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 THE 
 PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS 
 
 OF 
 DAVID HUME.
 
 THE 
 
 PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 DAVID HUME. 
 
 INCLUDING ALL THE ESSAYS, AND EXHIBITING THE 
 
 MORE IMPORTANT ALTERATIONS AND CORRECTIONS 
 
 IN THE SUCCESSIVE EDITIONS PUBLISHED 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 PRINTED FOR ADAM BLACK AND WILLIAM TAIT ; 
 AND CHARLES TAIT, 63, FLEET STREET, 
 LONDON. 
 
 MDCCCXXVI.
 
 3 
 
 ESSAYS 
 MORAL, POLITICAL, AND LITERARY. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 rUBlISHED IN MBCCXLII,
 
 ESSAY I. 
 
 OF THE DELICACY OF TASTE AND PASSION. 
 
 ^OME people are subject to a certain delicacy of /xxss/ow, 
 which makes them extremely sensible to all the acci- 
 dents of life, and gives them a lively joy upon every 
 prosperous event, as well as a piercing grief when they 
 meet with misfortunes and adversity. Favours and good 
 offices easily engage their friendship, while the small- 
 est injury provokes their resentment. Any honour or 
 mark of distinction elevates them above measure, but 
 they are as sensibly touched with contempt. People 
 of this character have, no doubt, more lively enjoy- 
 ments, as well as more pungent sorrows, than men of 
 cool and sedate tempers. But, I believe, when every 
 thing is balanced, there is no one who would not ra- 
 ther be of the latter character, were he entirely master 
 of his own disposition. Good or ill fortune is very 
 little at our disposal ; and when a person that has this 
 sensibility of temper meets with any misfortune, his 
 sorrow or resentment takes entire possession of him, 
 and deprives him of all relish in the common occur- 
 rences of life, the right enjoyment of which forms the 
 chief part of our happiness. Great pleasures are much , 
 less frequent than great pains, so that a sensible tem- 
 per must meet with fewer trials in the former way than 
 
 VOL. III. A 2
 
 4 ESSAY I. 
 
 in tlie latter. Not to mention, that men of such lively 
 passions are apt to be transported beyond all bounds of 
 prudence and discretion, and to take false steps in the 
 conduct of life, which are often irretrievable. 
 
 There is a dcUcacij of taste observable in some men, 
 which very much resembles this delicacy ofj^^ssion^ and 
 produces the same sensibility to beauty and deformity 
 of every kind, as that does to prosperity and adversity, 
 obliirations and injuries. When you present a poem or 
 a picture to a man possessed of this talent, the delicacy 
 of his feeling makes him be sensibly touched with every 
 part of it ; nor are the masterly strokes perceived with 
 more exquisite relish and satisfaction, than the negli- 
 gences or absurdities with disgust and uneasiness. A 
 polite and judicious conversation affords him the high- 
 est entertainment ; rudeness or impertinence is as great 
 punishment to him. In short, delicacy of taste has 
 tlie same effect as delicacy of passion. It enlarges the 
 sphere both of our hapi)iness and misery, and makes 
 us sensible to jiains as well as pleasures which escape 
 the rest of mankind. 
 
 I believe, however, ever}^ one will agree with me, that 
 notwithstanding this resemblance, delicacy of taste is as 
 much to be desired and cultivated, as delicacy of passion 
 is to be lamented, and to be remedied, if possible. "^I'lie 
 good or ill accidents of life are very little at our disposal ; 
 but we arc juxtty much masters what books we shall 
 read, what cHversions we shall {)artake of, and what com- 
 pany we shall keep. Philosophers have endeavoured 
 to render ]ia))piness entirely independent of every thing 
 exteriKil. The degree of perfection is impossible to be 
 \ntlain((l: hut every wise nuaii will endeavour to place 
 ( his hai)|)iness on such objects chiefly as depend upon 
 himself; and llml is not lo be (illdincd so much by any
 
 DELICACY OF TASTE. O 
 
 Oilier means as by this delicacy of sentiment. When 
 a man is possessed of that talent, he is more happy by 
 what pleases his taste, than by what o-ratifies his appe- 
 tites, and receives more enjoyment from a poem, or a 
 piece of reasoning, than the most expensive luxury can 
 afford. ^ 
 
 Whatever connexion there may be originally be- 
 tween these two species of delicacy, I am persuaded 
 that nothing is so proper to cure us of this delicacy of 
 passion, as the cultivating of that higher and more re- 
 fined taste, which enables us to judge of the characters 
 of men, of compositions of genius, and of the produc- 
 tions of the nobler arts. A greater or less relish for 
 those obvious beauties which strike the senses, depends 
 entirely upon the greater or less sensibility of the tem- 
 per ; but with regard to the sciences and liberal arts, a 
 fine taste is, in some measure, the same with strong 
 sense, or at least depends so much upon it that they 
 are inseparable. In order to judge aright of a compo- 
 sition of genius, there are so many views to be taken in, 
 so many circumstances to be compared, and such a 
 knowledge of human nature requisite, that no man, who 
 is not possessed of the soundest judgment, will ever 
 make a tolerable critic in such performances. And 
 this is a new reason for cultivating a relish in the libe- \ 
 ral arts. Our judgment will strengthen by this exer- j 
 cise. We shall form juster notions of life. Many 
 
 1 How far the delicacy of taste, and that of passion, arc connected 
 together in the original frame of the mind, it is hard to determine. To 
 me there appears to be a very considerable connexion betwixt them. 
 For we may observe that v^•omen, who have more delicate passions thaa 
 men, have also a more delicate taste of the ornaments of life, of dress, 
 equipage, and the ordinary decencies of behaviour. Any excellency in 
 these hits their taste much sooner than ours ; and when you please thcif 
 :t<jbte, you soon engage their affections. — EuixioK-i A, C, D, N,
 
 ESSAY I. 
 
 lliiii(Ts which please or afllict others, wITl appear to us 
 too riivoh)iis to enffiifje our attention ; and we shall 
 lose by tlo<irrces that sensibility and delicacy of passion, 
 which is so incommodious. 
 
 But perhaps 1 have gone too far, in saying that a 
 cultivated taste for the polite arts extinguishes the pas- 
 sions, and renders us indifferent to those objects wliich 
 are so fondly pursued by the rest of mankind. On 
 ftirthu)- reflection, I find, that it rather improves our 
 sensibility for all the tender and agreeable passions; 
 at the same time that it renders the mind incapable of 
 the rougher and more boisterous emotions. 
 
 Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes, 
 EmoIIit mores, nee sinit esse feros. 
 
 For this, I think, there may be assigned two very 
 natural reasons. In i\\Qjirst place, nothing is so im- 
 proving to the temper as the study of the beauties, 
 eitiier of jioetry, elo((uence, music, or painting. They 
 give a certain elegance of sentiment to which the rest 
 of mankind are strangers. The emotions which they 
 excite are soft and tender. They draw off the mind 
 from the hurry of business and interest ; cherish re- 
 flection ; dispose to tranquillity; and produce an agree- 
 able melancholy, which, of all dispositions of the mind, 
 is the best suited to love and friendship. 
 
 Ill the second place, a delicacy of taste is favourable 
 to love and friendship, by confining our choice to few 
 people, and making ns indin'erent to the company and 
 conversation of die greater part of men. You will sel- 
 dom fnid that mere men of the world, whatever strong 
 (>ense they may be endowed with, are very nice in dis- 
 tinguishing characters, or in marking those insensil)le 
 difT'erences and gradations, which make one man pre- 
 feral)le to another. Any one that has competent sense
 
 DELICACY OF TASTE. 7 
 
 is strfficient for their entertainment. They talk to him 
 of their pleasures and affairs, with the same frankness 
 that they would to another ; and findin<^ many who- 
 are fit to supply his place, they never feel any vacancy 
 or want in his absence. But to make use of the allu- 
 sion of a celebrated French * author, the judgment may 
 be compared to a clock or watch, where the most ordi- 
 nary machine is sufficient to tell the hours ; but the 
 most elaborate alone can point out the minutes and se- 
 conds, and distinguish the smallest differences of time. 
 Qne that has well digested his knowledge both of 
 books and men, has little enjoyment but in the compa- 
 ny of a few select companions. He feels too sensibly, 
 how much all the rest of mankind fall short of the no- 
 tions which he has entertained. And, his affections 
 being thus confined within a narrow circle, no wonder 
 he carries them further than if they were more general 
 and undistinguished. The gaiety and frolic of a bottle 
 companion improves with hira into a solid friendship ; 
 and the ardours of a youtliful appetite become an ele- 
 gant passion. 
 
 * Mons. Fontenellc, Pluralite des Mondes, Soir G,
 
 8 
 
 ESSAY U, 
 
 ESSAY II. 
 
 or THE LIBERTY OF THE TRESS. 
 
 Nothing is more apt to surprise a foreioner, than 
 the extreme liberty, wliich we enjoy in this country, of 
 communicating whatever we please to the public, and 
 of openly censuring every measure entered into by the 
 king or his ministers. If the administration resolve 
 upon war, it is affirmed, that, either wilfully or igno- 
 rantly, they mistake tlie interests of the nation ; and 
 tliat peace, in the jircsent situation of affairs, is infi- 
 nitely preferable. W the passion of the ministers lie 
 towards peace, our political writers breathe nothing 
 but war and devastation, and represent the pacific con- 
 duct of tiie goverimient as mean and pusillanimous. 
 As this liberty is not indulged in any other govern- 
 ment, either republican or monarchial; in Holland and 
 Venice, more than in France or Spahi; it may very 
 naturally give occasion to the question, How it hap- 
 pciis that GrcaL Brilain alone cnjoijs this peculiar pri- 
 vilege ? '^ 
 
 'J'Ik; reason why the laws indulge us in sxich a liberty, 
 seems to be deiivi.d fioiii oin* mixed ionn of government. 
 
 » And wliLtlicT the nnliiiiilL-d cxercist of this Iil)irty Ijc advantageous 
 or jinjiKlitial to tiic jniblic. — ilDirioNs A, (', \), N.
 
 LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. V 
 
 "vvl)ich is neither wholly monarchical, nor wliolly republi- 
 can. It will be found, it" I mistake not, a true observation 
 in politics, that the two extremes in <:^overnment, libeily 
 and slavery, commonly ajiproach neai'cst to each otlier ; 
 and that, as yon depart iVoni the extremes, and mix a 
 little of monarchy with liberty, the government becomes 
 always the more free ; and, on the other hand, when 
 you mix a httle of liberty with monarchy, the yoke be- 
 comes always the more grievous and intolerable. In a 
 government, such as that of France, which is absolute, 
 and where law, custom, and religion concur, all of them, 
 to make the people fully satisfied with their condition, 
 the monarch cannot entertain any jealousij against his 
 subjects, and therefore is apt to indulge them in great 
 liberties both of speech and action. In a government 
 altogether republican, such as that of Holland, where 
 there is no magistrate so eminent as to givejealoicsi/ to 
 the state, there is no dano-er in intrustino- the maiyistrates 
 with large discretionary powers ; and though many ad- 
 vantages result from such powers, in preserving peace 
 and order, yet they lay a considerable restraint on 
 men's actions, and make every private citizen pay a 
 great respect to the government. Thus it seems evi- 
 dent, that the two extremes of absolute monarchy and 
 of a republic, approach near to each other in some ma- 
 terial circumstances. In thcjirst^ the magistrate has 
 no jealousy of the people ; in the second, the people 
 have none of the magistrate : Which want of jealousy 
 beu-ets a mutual confidence and trust in both cases, and 
 produces a species of liberty in monarchies, and of ar- 
 bitrary power in republics. 
 
 To justify the other part of the foregoing observa- 
 tion, that, in every government, the means are most 
 v.ide of each otlier, and that the mixtures of monarchy
 
 10 ESSAY II. 
 
 aiul liberty render the yoke either more grievons; I 
 must take notice of a remark in Tacitus with reijrard to 
 the Komans uiulcr the Emperors, that they neither 
 coukl bear total shivery nor total liberty, Ncc totam 
 scivitulan, ncc totam libcrtatem jntti jwssunt. This re- 
 mark a celebrated poet has translated and applied to 
 the Eiiijlish, in his lively description of Queen Eliza- 
 beth's policy and government. ' 
 
 Et fit ainMjr son joug a I'Aiigiois indompte, 
 Qui ne yeut ni servii-, ni vivre eii liberte. 
 
 Henriade, liv. ». 
 
 Accordhig to these remarks, we are to consider the 
 Roman government nnder the Emperors as a mixture 
 of despotism and liberty, where the despotism prevail- 
 ed ; and the English government as a mixture of the 
 same kind, where the liberty predominates. The con- 
 seciucnces are conformable to the foregoing observation, 
 and such as may be expected from those mixed forms 
 of government, which beget a nuitual watchfulness and 
 jealousy. The Roman emperors were, many of them, 
 the most frightful tyrants that ever disgj-aced human 
 nature ; and it is evident, that their cruelty was chiefly 
 excited by their jealousy, and by their observing that 
 all the great men of Rome bore with impatience the 
 dominion of a famil}', which, but a little before, was 
 nowise superior to tlieir own. On the other hand, as 
 the republican part of the government prevails in Eng- 
 land, though with a great mixture of monarchy, it is 
 obliged, for its own preservation, to maintain a watch- 
 ful, /tv/Zo?/.';// over the magistrates, to remove all discre- 
 tionary powers, and to secure every one's life and for- 
 tune by general and inflexible laws. No action mustl>e 
 deemed a crime but what the law has plainly determin- 
 ed to be such : No crime must be imputed to a man
 
 LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 1 1 
 
 but from a legal proof before liis judges ; and even these 
 judges must be his fellow-subjects, who are obliged, 
 by their own interest, to have a watchful eye over the 
 encroachments and violence of the ministers. From 
 these causes it proceeds, that there is as nuich libert}-, 
 and even perhaps licentiousness, in Great Britain, as 
 there were formerly slavery and tyranny in Rome. 
 
 These principles account for the great liberty of the 
 press in these kingdoms, beyond what is indulged in 
 any other government. It is apprehended that arbi- 
 trary power would steal in upon us, were we not care- 
 ful to prevent its progress, and were there not an easy 
 method of conveying the alarm from one end of the 
 kingdom to the other. The spirit of the people must 
 frequently be roused, in order to curb the ambition of 
 the court; and the dread of rousing this spirit must be 
 employed to prevent that ambition. Nothing so effec- 
 tual to this purpose as the liberty of the press ; by 
 which all the learning, wit, and genius of the nation, 
 may be employed on the side of freedom, and every 
 one be animated to its defence. As long, therefore, as 
 the republican part of our government can maintain it- 
 self against the monarchical, it will naturally be care- 
 ful to keep the press open, as of importance to its own 
 preservation. ^ 
 
 5 Since, therefore, the liberty of the press is so essential to the sup- 
 port of O'lr mixed government, this sufficiently decides the second ques- 
 tion, Whclhcr litis libcrlij be advantageous or prejudicial, there being no- 
 thing of gieater importance in every state than the preservation of the 
 ancient government, especially if it be a free one. But I would fain 
 go a step fartlier, and assert, that such a liberty is attended with so few 
 inconveniences, that it may be claimed as the common right of man- 
 kind, and ought to be indulged them almost in every government ex- 
 cept the ecclesiastical, to which, indeed, it would be fatal. We need 
 not tbead from this liberty any such ill consecpicncci as followed from
 
 12 ESSAY 11. 
 
 It must however be allowetl, tliat the iinboundecl li- 
 berty of the press, tliough it be dilliciilt, perhaps in> 
 
 Uic Iiaraiigucs of the popular demagogues of Athens and Trihunes of 
 Rome. A man reads a book or pamphlet alone and cooly. There is 
 none j)rest'nt from whom he can catcli the passion by contagion. He is 
 not hurried away by the force and energy of action. And should he be 
 MTought up to never so seditious a humour, tliere is no violent resolu- 
 tion presented to him by which he can immediately vent Ins passion. 
 I'hc lil)crfy of tiie press, therefore, however <il)used, can scarce ever ex- 
 cite pojiidar tumults or rebellion. And as to those murmurs or secret 
 discontents it may occasion, it is l)etter they should get vent in words, 
 that they may come to the knowledge of the magistrate before it be too 
 late, in order to his providing a remedy against them. Mankind, it is 
 true, have always a greater propension to believe what is said to the 
 disadvantage of their governors than the contrary ; but this inclination 
 is inseparable from them whether they have lil)erty or not. A Avliisj)er 
 may fly as quick, and be as pernicious as a j)amphlet. Nay, it will be 
 more pernicious, where men are not accustomed to think freely, or dis- 
 tinguish betwixt trutli and falsehood. 
 
 It has also been found, as tiie experience of mankind increases, that 
 the pi'fijttt' are no such dangerous monster as they have been rejjresented, 
 and that it is in every respect l)etter to guide them like rational creatures 
 tlian to lead or drive tliem like brute beasts. IJefore the United Pro- 
 vinces set tlie example, toleration was deemed incompatible with good 
 government ; and it was thought impossible that a number of religious 
 sects coidd live together in liarmony and peace, and have all of them 
 an equal affection to their common country and to each other. Englatui 
 li.xs set a like example of civil liberty ; and though this lil)erty seems to 
 occasion some small ferment at present, it has not as yet produced any 
 pernicious effects; and it is to be hoped that men, being every day more 
 accustomed to the free discussion of ])ubhc affairs, will improve in their 
 judgment of them, and be with greater difliculty seduced by every idle 
 rumour and popular clamour. 
 
 It is a \i:Ty comfortable reflection to the lovers of liberty, that this pe- 
 culiar jirivilege of Uriluin is of a kind that cannot easily be wrested 
 from us, and must la'-t as long as our Government remains in any de- 
 l^ee free and independent. It is seldom that liberty of any kind is lost 
 all at once. Slavery has so frightful an aspect to men accustomed to 
 freedom, that it must steal in u|)on them by degrees, and must disguise 
 nsclfin a tfaou.atid !<ha])cs in order to be received. Ijut if the liberty
 
 LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 13 
 
 possible, to propose a suitable remedy for it, is one of 
 the evils attending those mixed fbrnis of government. 
 
 of the press ever be lost, it must be lost at once. The general laws 
 against sedition and libelling arc at present as strong as they possibly 
 can be made. Nothing can impose a farther restraint but either the 
 clapping an imprimatm- upon the press, or the giving very large discre- 
 tionary powers to the court to punish whatever displeases them. But 
 these concessions would be such a barefaced violation of liberty, that 
 they will probably be tlie last efforts of a despotic government. We 
 may conclude that tlie liberty of Britain is gone for ever when these at- 
 tempts shall succeed. — Editions A, C, D, N.
 
 1 i ESSAY HI. 
 
 ESSAY III. 
 
 THAT POLITICS MAY BE REDUCED TO A SCIENCE. 
 
 It is a question with several, wliethcr there be any 
 essential difference between one foim of government 
 and another ? and, whether every form may not be- 
 come cfood or bad, accordincj as it is well or ill admi- 
 nistered ? " Were it once admitted, that all govern- 
 ments arc alike, and that the only difference consists in 
 the character and conduct of the governors, most poli- 
 tical disputes would be at an end, and all Zeal for one 
 constitution above another must be esteemed mere bi- 
 gotry and folly. But, though a friend to moderation, 
 I cannot forbear condemning this sentiment, and should 
 be sorry to think, that human affairs admit of no great- 
 er stability, than what they receive from the casual 
 humours and characters of particular men. 
 
 It is true, those who maintain that the goodness of 
 all government consists in the goodness of the admi- 
 nistration, may cite many particular instances in histo- 
 ry, where the very same government, in different hands, 
 has varied suddenly into the two opposite extremes of 
 good and bad. Compare the French government un- 
 
 ■* For forms of government let fools contest, 
 Whatc'er is best administered is best. 
 
 Essay on Man, Book 3.
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 15 
 
 tier Hefiry III. and uiuler Henry IV. Oppression, le- 
 vity, artifice on the part of the rulers ; faction, sedition, 
 treachery, rebellion, disloyalty on the part of the sub- 
 jects : These compose the character of the former mi- 
 serable era. But when the patriot and heroic prince, 
 wlio succeeded, was once firmly seated on the throne, 
 the government, the people, every thing, seemed to be 
 totally changed ; and ail from the difference of the 
 temper and conduct of these two sovereigns. * Instan- 
 ces of this kind may be multiplied, almost without num- 
 ber, from ancient as well as modern history, foreign 
 as well as domestic. 
 
 But here it may be proper to make a distinction. 
 All absolute governments must very much depend on 
 the administration ; and this is one of the great incon- 
 veniences attending that form of government. But a 
 republican and free government would be an obvious 
 absurdity, if the particular checks and controls, provid- 
 ed by the constitution, haxl really no influence, and made 
 it not the interest, even of bad men, to act for the pub- 
 lic good. Such is the intention of these forms of go- 
 vernment, and such is their real effect, vv'here they are 
 wisely constituted : As, on the other hand, they are the 
 source of all disorder, and of the blackest crimes, where 
 cither skill or honesty lias been wanting in their ori- 
 ginal frame and institution. 
 
 So great is the force of laws, and of particular forms 
 of government, and so little dependence have they on 
 the humours and tempers of men, that consequences 
 almost as general and certain may sometimes be deduc- 
 
 * An equal difference of a contiai^ kind may be found in comparing 
 the reigns of Elizabeth and Jdincs, at least with regard to foreign af- 
 fairs.-— Editions A, C, D, N.
 
 16 ESSAY II T. 
 
 C'.\ iVom tlicm, .t^ nny -wliicli the mathematical sciences 
 afionl us. 
 
 The constitution of the Roman republic gave the 
 whole legislative power to the people, without allowing 
 a negative voice either to the nobility or consuls. This 
 unbounded power tliey possessed in a collective, not in 
 a representative body. The consequences were : When 
 the people, by success and conquest, had become very 
 numerous, and liad spread themselves to a great dis- 
 tance from the capital, the city tribes, though the most 
 contemptible, carried almost every vote : They were, 
 tlierefore, most cajoled by every one that affected po- 
 pularity : They were supported in idleness by the 
 general distribution of corn, and by particular bribes, 
 which they received from almost every candidate: Cy 
 this means, they became every day more licentious, and 
 the Campus Martins was a perpetual scene of tumult 
 and sedition : Armed slaves were introduced amons 
 these rascally citizens, ^o that the whole government 
 fell into anarchy ; and the greatest happiness which the 
 Romans coukl look for, was the despotic power of the 
 Caesars. Such are the effects of democracy without a 
 representative. 
 
 A Nobility may possess the whole, or any part of 
 the legislative power of a state, in two different ways. 
 Either every nobleman shares the power as a part of 
 the whole bodv? or the whole body enjoys the power 
 as composed of ))arts, which have each a distinct power 
 and authority. Tlie Venetian aristocracy is an instance 
 of the first kind of government; the Polish, of (lie 
 second. In the Venetian government the whole bodv 
 of nobility possesses the whole power, and no noble- 
 man has any authorily which he receives not from the 
 wholi'. In ilii' i'olisli government every nobleman, by
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 1*7 
 
 means of his fiefs, has a distinct hereditary authority 
 over his vassals, and the whole body has no authority 
 but what it receives from the concurrence of its parts. 
 The diiferent operations and tendencies of these two 
 species of government might be made apparent even a 
 priori. A Venetian nobility is preferable to a Polish, 
 let the humours and education of men be ever so much 
 varied. A nobility, who possess their power in com- 
 mon, will preserve peace and order, both among them- 
 selves, and their subjects ; and no member can have au- 
 thority enough to control the laws for a moment. The 
 nobles will preserve their authority over the people, but 
 without any grievous tyranny, or any breach of private 
 property ; because such a tyrannical government pro- 
 motes not the interests of the whole body, however it 
 may that of some individuals. There will be a distinc- 
 tion of rank between the nobility and people, but this 
 will be the only distinction in the state. Tlie whole 
 nobility will form one body, and the whole people an- 
 other, without any of those private feuds and animosi- 
 ties, which spread ruin and desolation every where. It 
 is easy to see the disadvantages of a Polish nobility in 
 every one of these particulars. 
 
 It is possible so to constitute a free government, as 
 that a single person, call him a doge, prince, or king, 
 shall possess a lai'ge share of power, and shall form a 
 proper balance or counterjioise to the other parts of the 
 legislature. This chief magistrate may be either elec- 
 tive or hereditarjj ,- and though the former institution 
 may, to a superficial view, appear the most advantage- 
 ous ; yet a more accurate inspection will discover in it 
 greater inconveniences than in the latter, and such as 
 are founded on causes and principles eternal and im- 
 mutable. The filling of the throne, in such a govern- 
 
 VOL. III. B
 
 18 ESSAY III. 
 
 nicnt, is a point of too great and too general interest, 
 not to divide the whole people into factions : Wlience 
 a civil war, the greatest of ills, may be apprehended, 
 almost with certainty, upon every vacancy. The prince 
 elected must be either a Foreigner or a Native : The 
 former will be ignorant of the people whom he is to 
 govern ; suspicious of his new subjects, and suspected 
 by them ; giving his confidence entirely to strangers, 
 who will have no other care but of enriching themselves 
 in the (juickest manner, while their master's favour and 
 authority are able to support them. A native will carry 
 into the throne all his private animosities and friend- 
 ships, and will never be viewed in his elevation without 
 exciting the sentiment of envy in those who formerly 
 considered him as their equal. Not to mention that a 
 crown is too hi^h a reward ever to be given to merit 
 alone, and will always induce the candidates to employ 
 force, or money, or intrigue, to procure the votes of the 
 electors : So that such an election will give no better 
 chance for superior merit in the prince, than if the state 
 had trusted to birth alone for determining the sovereign. 
 
 It may, therefore, be pronounced as an universal ax- 
 iom in })olitics, T/iat an hereditary prince, a nohility 
 -iicithout vassalsy and a people voting hy their representa- 
 tives, farm the best monarchy, aiustooracy andD'EUO- 
 CUACY. But in order to prove more fully, that politics 
 admit of general truths, which are invariable by the 
 humour or education either of subject or sovereign, it 
 may not be amiss to observe some other princi[)les of 
 this science, which may seem to deserve that character. 
 
 It may easily be observed, that though free govern- 
 ments have l)een commonly the most happy for those 
 who j)artake of tiieir freedom ; yet are they the most 
 ruinous and opi)res.sive to their provinces : And this ob-
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 19 
 
 servation may, I believe, be fixed as a maxim of the kiiul 
 we are here speakin<r of. Wlien a monarch extends his 
 dominions by conquest, he soon learns to consider his 
 old and his new subjects as on the same footing; be- 
 cause, in reality, all his subjects are to him the same, 
 except the few friends and favourites with whom he is 
 personally acquainted. He does not, therefore, make 
 any distinction between them in his general laws ; and, 
 at the same time, is careful to prevent all jmrticular acts 
 of oppression on the one as well as tlie other. But a 
 free state necessarily makes a great distinction, and 
 must always do so, till men learn to love their neigh- 
 bours as well as themselves. The conquerors, in such 
 a government, are all legislators, and will be sure to 
 contrive matters, by restrictions on trade, and by taxes, 
 so as to draw some private, as well as public advantage 
 from their conquests. Provincial governors have also 
 a better chance, in a republic, to escape with their 
 plunder, by means of bribery or intrigue ; and their 
 fellow-citizens, who find their own state to be enrich- 
 ed by the spoils of the subject provinces, will be the 
 more inclined to tolerate such abuses. Not to men- 
 tion, that it is a necessary precaution in a free state to 
 change the governors frequently ; which obliges these 
 temporary tyrants to be more expeditious and rapa- 
 cious, that they may accumulate sufficient wealth be- 
 fore they give place to their successors. What cruel 
 tyrants were the Romans over the world during the 
 time of their commonwealth ! It is true, they had 
 laws to prevent oppression in their provincial magis- 
 trates ; but Cicero informs us, that the Romans could 
 not better consult the interests of the provinces than 
 by repealing these very laws. For, in that case, says 
 he, our magistrates, having entire impunity, would 
 
 b2
 
 20 ESSAY III. 
 
 plunder no more than would satisfy their own rapa- 
 ciousness ; whereas, at present, they must also satisfy 
 that of their judges, and of all the great men in Rome, 
 of whose protection they stand in need. Who can 
 read of the cruelties and oppressions of Verrcs without 
 horror and astonishment? And who is not touched 
 Avith indignation to hear, that, after Cicero had ex- 
 hausted on that abandoned criminal all the thunders 
 of his eloquence, and had prevailed so far as to get 
 him condemned to the utmost extent of the laws, yet 
 that cruel tyrant lived peaceably to old age, in opu- 
 lence and ease, and, thirty years afterwards, was put 
 into the proscription by Mark Antony, on account of 
 his exorbitant wealth, wliere he fell with Cicero him- 
 self, and all the most virtuous men of Rome ? After 
 the dissolution of the commonwealth, the Roman yoke 
 became easier upon the provinces, as Tacitus informs 
 us ; "" and it may be observed, that many of the worst 
 emperors, Domitian, " for instance, were careful to pre- 
 vent all oppression on the provinces. In Tiberius's " 
 time, Gaul was esteemed richer than Italy itself: Nor 
 do 1 find, during the whole time of the Roman monar- 
 chy, that the empire became less rich or populous in 
 any of its provinces ; though indeed its valour and mi- 
 litary discipline were always upon the decline. The 
 oppression and tyranny of the Carthaginians over their 
 subject states in Africa went so far, as we learn from 
 Poiybius, " that, not content with exacting the half of 
 all the produce of the land, which of itself was a very 
 
 " Aim. lib. i. cap. 2. ^ Suet, in vita Domit. 
 
 *^ Egrcgium rt-sumendae libertati tcmpus, si ipsi florentcs, quam inops 
 Italia, quam imhcllis \irbana plebs, niliil validum in cxercitibus, nisi 
 quoil txtcrnuni cogitarcnU — Tacit. Ann. lilj. iii. 
 
 •" Lib. i. cap. I'd.
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 21 
 
 high rent, they also loaded lliem with many other 
 taxes. If we pass from ancient to modern times, we 
 shall still find the observation to hold. The provinces 
 of absolute monarchies are always better treated than 
 those of free states. Compare the Pah conquis of 
 France with Ireland, and you will be convinced of this 
 truth ; though this latter kingdom, being in a good 
 measure peopled from England, possesses so many 
 rights and privileges as should naturally make it chal- 
 lenge better treatment than that of a conquered pro- 
 vince. Corsica is also an obvious instance to the same 
 purpose. 
 
 There is an observation of Machiavel, with regard 
 to the conquests of Alexander the Great, which, I 
 think, may be regarded as one of those eternal politi- 
 cal truths, which no time nor accidents can vary. It may 
 seem strange, says that politician, that such sudden 
 conquests, as those of Alexander, should be possessed 
 so peaceably by his successors, and that the Persians, 
 during all the confusions and civil wars among the 
 Greeks, never made the smallest effort towards the re- 
 covery of their former independent government. To 
 satisfy us concerning the cause of this remarkable event, 
 we may consider, that a monarch may govern his sub- 
 jects in two different ways. He may either follow tlie 
 maxims of the Eastern princes, and stretch his authori- 
 ty so far as to leave no distinction of rank among his 
 subjects, but what proceeds immediately from himself; 
 no advantages of birth ; no hereditary honours and pos- 
 sessions ; and, in a word, no credit among the people, 
 except from his commission alone. Or a monarch may 
 exert his power after a milder manner, like other Eu- 
 ropean princes ; and leave other sources of honour, be- 
 side his smile and favour : Birth, titles, possessions.
 
 22 ESSAY in. 
 
 valour, integrity, knowledge, or great and fortunate 
 achievements. In the former species of government, 
 after a conquest, it is impossible ever to shake off the 
 yoke ; since no one possesses, among the people, so 
 much personal credit and authority as to begin such 
 an enterprise : \Miereas, in the latter, the least misfor- 
 tune, or discord among the victors, will encourage the 
 vancjuished to take arms, who have leaders ready to 
 prompt and conduct them in every undertaking. " 
 
 * I have taken it for granted, according to the supposition of Machia- 
 vcl, that the ancient Persians had no nobility ; thougli there is reason to 
 suspect, that the F"lorentine sccretarj-, who seems to have been better 
 acquainted with tlie Iloman tlian the Greek authors, was mistaken in 
 tliis particular. The more ancient Persians, whose manners are describ- 
 ed by Xenophon, were a free people, and had nobility. Their ohoti/jloi 
 were prese^^•ed even after the extending cf their conquests and the con- 
 sequent change of their government. Arrian mentions them in Darius's 
 time, De cxpi'd. uilci'. lib. ii. Historians also speak often of the per- 
 sons in command as men of family. Tygranes, who was general of the 
 Medes under Xerxes, was of the race of Achmrenes, Ileriod. lib. vii. 
 cap. 62. Artachxus, wlio directed the cutting of the canal about Mount 
 Athos, was of the same family. Id. cap. 117. Megabyzus was one of 
 the seven eminent Persians who conspired against the Magi. His son, 
 Zopyrus, was in tlie hij^iest command under Darius, and delivered Ba- 
 bylon to Iiim. His grandson, IVIcgabyzus, commanded the army de- 
 feated at Marathon. His great-grandson, Zopyrus, was also eminent, 
 and was banished Persia. Herod. HI), iii. Thuc. lib. i. Rosaces, who 
 commanded an army in Egypt under Artaxerxes, was also dcKcended 
 from one of the seven conspirators, Diod. Sic. lib. xvi. Agcsilaus, in 
 Xenophon. Hist. Cra'c. lilj, iv. being desirous of making a marriage 
 betwixt king Cotys his ally, and the daughter of Spitliridates, a Persian 
 of rank, «ho had deserted to Iiim, first asks Cotys what family Spi- 
 thridai.es is of. One of the most considerable in Persia, says Cotys. 
 Aria^us, when oflered the sovereignty by Clearchus and the ten thousand 
 Greeks, refused it as of too low a rank, and said, that so many emi- 
 nent Persians would never endure his rule. Id. dc ripfd, Mb. ii. Some 
 of the families (Ie<-cende(l from the seven Persians above mentioned re- 
 mained during A lexander's successors ; and Mithridates, in Antiochus's 
 time. Is said l>y Pol)bius to be descended from one of them, lib. v. cap.
 
 POTJTTCS a SCIKNCE. SS 
 
 Such is llie reasoiiiiii^ of Machiavel, vvliicli seems 
 solid and conclusive; though I wish he had not mixed 
 falsehood with truth, in asserting that monarchies, go- 
 verned according to Eastern policy, though more easily 
 kept when once subdued, yet are the most difficult to 
 subdue ; since they cannot contain any powerful sub- 
 ject, whose discontent and faction may facilitate the en- 
 terprises of an enemy. For, besides, that such a ty- 
 rannical government enervates the courage of men, and 
 venders them indifferent towards the fortunes of their 
 sovereign ; besides this, I say, we find by experience, 
 that even the temporary and delegated authority of the 
 generals and magistrates, being always, in such govern- 
 ments, as absolute within its sphere as that of the prince 
 himself, is able, with barbarians accustomed to a blind 
 submission, to produce the most dangerous and fatal 
 revolutions. So that in every respect, a gentle govern- 
 ment is preferable, and gives the greatest security to 
 the sovereign as well as to the subject. 
 
 Legislators, therefore, ought not to trust the future 
 government of a state entirely to chance, but ought to 
 provide a system of laws to regulate the administration 
 of public affairs to the latest posterity. Effects will al- 
 
 43. Artabazus was esteemed as Arrian says, tv toi( Tr^aroii JlecTav, 
 lib. iii. And when Alexander married in one day 80 of his captains to 
 Persian women, his intention plainly was to ally the Macedonians with 
 the most eminent Persian families. Id. lib. vii. Diodorus Siculussays, 
 they were of the most noble birth in Persia, lib. xvii. The government 
 of Persia was despotic, and conducted in many respects after the Eastern 
 manner, but was not carried so far as to extirpate all nobility, and con- 
 found all ranks and orders. It left men who were still great, by them- 
 selves and their family, independent of their office and commission. And 
 the reason why the Macedonians kept so easily dominion over them, was 
 owing to other causes easy to be found in the historians ; though it must 
 be owned that Machiavel's reasoning is, in itself, just, hoM ever doubtful 
 its application to the present case. 
 3
 
 24' KSSAY III. 
 
 ways correspond to causes ; and wise regulations, in 
 any comnionwealtli, are the most valuable legacy that 
 can be left to future ages. In the smallest court or 
 office, the stated forms and methods by which busi- 
 ness must be conducted, are found to be a consider- 
 able check on the natural depravity of mankind. Why 
 should not the case be the same in public affairs? 
 Can we ascribe the stability and wisdom of the Vene- 
 tian government, through so many ages, to any thing 
 but the form of government? And is it not easy to 
 point cut those defects in the original constitution, 
 which produced the tumultuous governments of Athens 
 and Rome, and ended at last in the ruin of these 
 two famous republics? And so little dependence has 
 this affair on the humours and education of particular 
 men, that one part of the same republic may be wisely 
 conducted, and another weakly, by the very same men, 
 merely on account of the differences of the forms and 
 institutions by which these parts are regulated. His- 
 torians inform us that this was actually the case with 
 C'cnoa. For wiiile the state was always full of sedition, 
 and tun)ult, and disordei", the bank of St George, 
 v.hich liad become a considerable part of the people, 
 was conducted, for several ages, with the utmost in- 
 tegrity and wisdom. * 
 
 The ages of greatest public spirit are not always 
 most eminent for private virtue. Good laws may beget 
 
 ' E«?iTipio vcratncnte ra»o, et da' filosofi in lante loro immaginate e 
 vedutc Ilepulibliilic mai iion trovato, vcdere dentro ad un medesiwo cer- 
 cliio, fra niudesinii cittuilini, la liberta e la tirannide, la vita civile e la 
 ccjiTOtIa, la giustizia e la licenza ; pcrche quelle ordine solo manticne 
 r|uella citfa piena di costumi anticlii e venerabili. E s'egli avvenissc, 
 die to) tfinpo in ogni niodo avverra, die San Giorgio tutta quella 
 ritfi occupa<-se, sarebbe f|i;dla una Kepubblica piu che la Vcneziana me- 
 morabile.— IXlle islorie Fiorenline, lib. viii. 4.'i7. — Florent. 1782.
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 25 
 
 order and moderation in the government, where the 
 manners and cnstoms have instilled little humanity or 
 justice into the tempers of men. The most illustrious 
 period of the Roman history, considered in a political 
 view, is that between the beginning of the first and 
 end of the last Punic war ; the due balance between 
 the nobility and people being then fixed by the con- 
 tests of the tribunes, and not being yet lost by the 
 extent of conquests. Yet at this very time, the horrid 
 practice of poisoning was so common, that, during 
 part of the season, a Prcutor punished capitally for 
 this crime above three thousand ^ persons in a part of 
 Italy ; and found informations of this nature still mul- 
 tiplying upon him. There is a similar, or rather a 
 worse instance, '^ in the more early times of the com- 
 monwealth ; so depraved in private life were that 
 people, whom in their histories we so much admire. I 
 doubt not but they were really more virtuous during 
 the time of the two Triumvirates ; when they were 
 tearing their common country to pieces, and spreading 
 slaughter and desolation over the face of the earth, 
 merely for the choice of tyrants. " 
 
 Here, then, is a sufficient inducement to maintain, 
 with the utmost zeal, in every free state, those forms 
 and institutions by which liberty is secured, the public 
 good consulted, and the avarice or ambition of parti- 
 cular men restrained and punished. Nothing does 
 more honour to human nature, than to see it susceptible 
 of so noble a passion ; as nothing can be a greater in- 
 
 * T. Livii, lib. xl. cap. 43. 
 ^ T. Livii, lib. viii. cap. 18. 
 
 ' L'Aigle centre I'Aigle, Remains contrc Romains, 
 Pombstans sculement pour le choix de tyrans. 
 
 CoRNEILLEv
 
 26 ESSAY III. 
 
 (lication of meanness of heart in any man than to see 
 him ck'slitute of it. A man who loves only himself, 
 without regard to friendship and desert, merits the se- 
 verest blame ; and a man, who is only susceptible of 
 friendship, without public spirit, or a regard to the 
 connnunity, is deficient in the most material part of 
 virtue. 
 
 l>ut this is a subject which needs not be longer in- 
 sisted on at present. There are enow of zealots on 
 both sides, who kindle up the passions of their parti- 
 sans, and, under pretence of public good, pursue the 
 interests and ends of their particular faction. For my 
 part, I shall always be more fond of promoting moder- 
 ation than zeal ; though perhaps the surest way of pro- 
 ducing moderation in every party is to increase our zeal 
 for the public. Let us therefore try, if it be possible, 
 from the foregoing doctrine, to draw a lesson of moder- 
 ation with regard to the parties into which our country 
 is at present divided ; at the same time, that we allow 
 not this moderation to abate the industry and passion, 
 with which every individual is bound to pursue the 
 good of his country. 
 
 Those who either attack or defend a minister in 
 such a government as ours, where the utmost liberty is 
 allowed, always carry matters to an extreme, and ex- 
 aggerate his merit or demerit with regard to the pub- 
 lic. His enemies are sure to charge him with the 
 greatest enormities, both in domestic and foreign ma- 
 nagement ; and there is no meanness or crime, of 
 which, ill their account, he is not cap;ible. Unneces- 
 sary wars, scandalous treaties, profusion of public trea- 
 sure, op[)ressive taxes, every kind of mal-administra- 
 tion is ascribed to iilni. To aggravate the ciiarge, his 
 |K'rnicioas coiuluct, it is said, will extend its baneful
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. 27 
 
 influence even to posterity, by undermining the best 
 constitution in the workl, and disordering that wise 
 system of laws, institutions and customs, by which our 
 ancestors, during so many centuries, liave been so hap- 
 pily governed. He is not only a wicked minister in 
 himself, but has removed every security provided a- 
 jjainst wicked ministers for the future. 
 
 On the other hand, the partisans of the minister 
 make his panegyric run as high as the accusation a- 
 gainst him, and celebrate his wise, steady, and mode- 
 rate conduct in every part of his administration. The 
 honour and interest of the nation supported abroad, 
 public credit maintained at home, persecution restrain- 
 ed, faction subdued ; the merit of all these blessings is 
 ascribed solely to the minister. At the same time, he 
 crowns all his other merits by a religious care of the 
 best constitution in the world, which he has preserved 
 in all its parts, and has transmitted entire, to be the 
 happiness and security of the latest posterity. 
 
 When this accusation and panegyric are received by 
 the partisans of each party, no wonder they beget an 
 extraordinary ferment on both sides, and fill the nation 
 with violent animosities. But I would fain persuade 
 these party zealots, that there is a flat contradiction 
 both in the accusation and panegyric, and that it were 
 impossible for either of them to run so high, were it 
 not for this contradiction. If our constitution be real- 
 ly that nohle fabric^ the jiride of Britain^ the envy of our 
 neighbours, raised bij the labour of so many centtiries, re- 
 paired at the expense of so many millions, and cemented 
 by such a profusion of blood ; I say, if our constitution 
 does in any degree deserve these eulogies, it would 
 
 ' Disstrtation on Parties, Letter X.
 
 28 ESSAY 11 F. 
 
 never have suileretl a wicked and weak minister to go- 
 vern triunipluuitly for a course of twenty years, when 
 ojiposed by the greatest geniuses in the nation, who ex- 
 ercised the utmost liberty of tongue and pen, in parlia- 
 ment, and in their frequent appeals to the people. 
 But, if the minister be wicked and weak, to the degree 
 so strenuously insisted on, the constitution must be 
 faulty in its original principles, and he cannot consist- 
 ently be charged with undermining the best form of 
 government in the world. A constitution is only so 
 far good, as it provides a remedy against mal-admini- 
 stration ; and if the British, when in its greatest vigour, 
 and repaired by two such remarkable events as the Re- 
 volution and Accession, by which our ancient royal fa- 
 mily was sacrificed to it ; if our constitution, I say, 
 with so great advantages, does not, in fact, provide any 
 such remedy, we arc rather beholden to any minister 
 who undermines it, and affords us an opportunity of 
 erecting a better in its place. 
 
 I would employ the same topics to moderate the zeal 
 of those who defend the minister. Is our constitution 
 so excellent ? Then a change of ministry can be no 
 such dreadful event; since it is essential to such a con- 
 stitution, in every ministry, both to preserve itself from 
 violation, and to prevent all enormities in the adminis- 
 tration. Is our constitution very bad F Then so ex- 
 traordinary a jealousy and apprehension, on account 
 of changes, is ill placed ; and a man should no more be 
 anxious in this case, than a husband, who had married 
 a woman from the stews, should be v/atchful to prevent 
 her infidelity. Public affairs, in such a government, 
 must necessarily go to confusion, by whatever hands 
 they are conducted ; and the zeal of patriots is in that 
 case much les» requisite than the patience and subniis-
 
 POLITICS A SCIENCE. ^*^ 
 
 sion o^ philosophers. The virtue and good intention of 
 Cato and Brutus are highly laudable; but to what 
 purpose did their zeal serve ? Only to hasten the fatal 
 period of the Roman government, and render its con- 
 vulsions and dying agonies more violent and painful. 
 
 I would not be understood to mean, that public af- 
 fairs deserve no care and attention at all. Would men 
 be moderate and consistent, their claims might be ad- 
 mitted ; at least might be examined. The country par li) 
 might still assert, that our constitution, though excel- 
 lent, will admit of mal-administratiou to a certain de- 
 «»ree : and therefore, if the minister be bad, it is pro- 
 per to oppose him with a suitable degree of zeal. And, 
 on the other hand, the court party may be allowed, up- 
 on the supposition that the minister were good, to de- 
 fend, and with some zeal too, his administration. I 
 would only persuade men not to contend, as if they 
 were fighting pro aris etfocis, and change a good con- 
 stitution into a bad one, by the violence of their fac- 
 tions. 
 
 I have not here considered any thing that is person- 
 al in the present controversy. In the best civil con- 
 stitution, where every man is restrained by the most 
 ri<'-id laws, it is easy to discover either the good or bad 
 intentions of a minister, and to judge whether his per- 
 sonal character deserve love or hatred. But such 
 :juestions are of little importance to the public, and lay 
 those, who employ their pens upon them, under a just 
 suspicion either of malevolence or of flattery. ^ 
 
 ( 
 
 5 What our author s opinion ivas of the famous minister here pointed 
 at, may be learned from that Essay, printed in the former edition, under 
 the title of " A Character of Sir Robert Walpole. " It was as follows ; — 
 There never was a man whose actions and character have been more 
 earnestly and openly canvassed than those of the present minister, who, 
 having governed a learned and free nation for io long a time, «m.d?t
 
 80r ESSAY 111. 
 
 sucl) mighty opposition, may make a large li!)rary of whit has been 
 wrote for and against him, and is the subject of above half the paper 
 that has been blotted in the nation within these twenty years. I wish, 
 for the honour of our country, that any one character of him had been 
 drawn with such judgment and impavtiulittj as to have some credit with 
 posterity, and to show that our liberty has, once at least, been employed 
 to good purpose. I am only afraid of failing in the former quality of 
 judgment : But if it should be so, it is but one puge more thrown away, 
 after an liundred thousand upon the same subject, that have perished 
 and become useless. In the mean time, I shall flatter myself with the 
 pleasing imagination, that the following character will be adopted by fu- 
 ture historians. 
 
 Sir RobtTt Walpole, Prime Minister of Great Britain, is a man of 
 ability, not a genius ; good natured, not virtuous; constant, not mag- 
 nanimous ; moderate, not equitable. * His virtues, in some instances, 
 are free from the allay of those vices which usually accompany such 
 virtues : He is a generous friend, without being a bitter enemy. His 
 vices, in other instances, are not compensated by those virtues which are 
 pearly allied to them : His want of enterprise is not attended with fru- 
 gality. The private character of tiie man is better than the public : His 
 virtues more than his vices : His fortune greater than his fame. With 
 many good qualities, he has incurred the public iiatred : With good ca- 
 pacity, lie has not escaped ridicule. He would have been esteemed more 
 H orthy of his high station, had he never possessed it ; and is better qua- 
 lified for the second than for the first place in any government : His mi- 
 nistry has been more advantageous to his family than to the pul)lic, bet- 
 ter for this age than for posterity ; and more pernicious by bad prece- 
 dents than by real grievances. During his time trade has flourished, li- 
 berty declined, and learning gone to ruin. As I am a man, I love him ; 
 as I am a scholar, I hate him ; as I am a Briton, I calmy wish his fall. 
 And were I a member of either House, I would give my vote for re- 
 moving him from St James's; but should be glad to see him retire to 
 U u''hlon- Hall, to pass the remainder of his days in ease and pleasure. 
 
 The author is pleased to find, tliat after animosities are laid, and ca- 
 Inmnrj has ceased, the whole nation almost have returned to the same mo- 
 derate ientimcnls with regard to this ureal man ; if they arc not rather 
 become more favourable to him, by a very natural transition, from one ex- 
 treme to another. The author would not ojfjiose these humane sentiments 
 towards the dead ; thoui-h he cannot forbear observing, that the not payin<i 
 more of our public debts was, as hinted in this character, a great, and the 
 only f^reai, error in that long administration. — Note in Editions D and 
 N, and published as a separate Essay in Edition 13. 
 
 • Moderate in <''c exercise of power, not equitable in cngrosbing ili
 
 rniNCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 31 
 
 ESSAY IV. 
 
 OF THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 
 
 Nothing appears more surprising to those who 
 consider human affairs with a philosophical eye, than 
 the easiness with which the many are governed by the 
 few ; and the implicit submission, with which men re- 
 sign their own sentiments and passions to those of their 
 rulers. When we inquire by what means this wonder 
 is effected, we shall find, that, as Force is always on 
 the side of the governed, the governors have nothing 
 to support them but opinion. It is, therefore, on 
 opinion only that government is founded ; and this 
 maxim extends to the most despotic and most military 
 governments, as well as to the most free and most 
 popular. The soldan of Egypt, or the emperor of 
 Rome, might drive his harmless subjects, like brute 
 beasts, against their sentiments and inclination. But 
 he must, at least, have led his mamalukes or jn-cctoriau 
 hands, like men, by their opinion. 
 
 Opinion is of two kinds, to wit, opinion of interest, 
 and opinion of right. By opinion of interest, I chief- 
 ly understand the sense of the general advantage which 
 is reaped from government ; together with the persua- 
 sion, that the particular government which is establish- 
 ed is equally advantageous with any other that could
 
 32 ESSAY IV. 
 
 easily be settled. When this opinion prevails among 
 the generality of a state, or among those who have the 
 force in their hands, it gives great security to any go- 
 vernment. 
 
 Right is of two kinds ; right to Power, and right to 
 Property. What j)revalence opinion of the first kind 
 has over mankind, may easily be understood, by ob- 
 serving the attachment which all nations have to their 
 ancient government, and even to those names wliich 
 have had the sanction of anti(|uity. Antiquity always 
 begets the opinion of right ; and whatever disadvanta- 
 geous sentiments we may entertain of mankind, they 
 are always found to be prodigal both of blood and 
 treasure in the maintenance of public justice. " There 
 is, indeed, no particular in which, at first sight, there 
 may ajipear a greater contradiction in the frame of the 
 human mind than the present. When men act in a 
 faction, they are apt, without shame or remorse, to 
 neglect all the ties of honour and morality, in order to 
 serve their party ; and yet, when a faction is formed 
 upon a point of right or principle, there is no occasion 
 where men discover a greater obstinacy, and a more 
 determined sense of justice and equity. The same so- 
 cial disposition of mankind is the cause of these con- 
 tradictory appearances. 
 
 It is sufficiently understood, that the opinion of right 
 to property is of moment in all matters of government. 
 A noted author has made property the foundation of 
 all government; and most of our political writers seem 
 inclined to follow him in that particular. This is car- 
 
 c Tlii" pnssioTi we may (lenomiiiate fnthusiasm, or wo may give it 
 what appellation wu please ; hut a politician who should overlook its in- 
 fluence on human affairs, would prove himself to have hut a very limit- 
 ed understanding Editions, A, C, D, N.
 
 PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 33 
 
 rying the matter too far ; but still it must be owned, 
 that the opinion of right to property has a great influ- 
 ence in this subject. 
 
 Upon these three opinions, therefore, of public in- 
 terest) of right to poisoer^ and of right to 'property^ are 
 all governments founded, and all authority of the few 
 over the many. There are indeed other principles 
 which add force to these, and determine, limit, or alter 
 their operation ; such as sclf-intere&t,^ foar, and affec- 
 tion. But still we may assert, that these other princi- 
 ples can have no influence alone, but suppose the an- 
 tecedent influence of those opinions above mentioned. 
 They are, therefore, to be esteemed the secondary, not 
 the original, principles of government. 
 
 For, Jirst, as to self-inter est.^ by which I mean the 
 expectation of particular rewards, distinct from the 
 general protection which we receive from government, 
 it is evident that the magistrate's authority must be an- 
 tecedently established, at least be hoped for, in order 
 to produce this expectation. The prospect of reward 
 may augment his authority with regard to some parti- 
 cular persons, but can never give birth to it, with re- 
 gard to the public. Men naturally look for the great- 
 est favours from their friends and acquaintance ; and 
 therefore, the hopes of any considerable number of the 
 state would never centre in any particular set of men, 
 if these men had no other title to magistracy, and had 
 no separate influence over the opinions of mankind. 
 The same observation may be extended to the other 
 two principles oi fear and affection. No man would 
 have any reason to fear the fury of a tyrant, if he had 
 no authority over any but from fear ; since, as a single 
 man, his bodily force can reach but a small way, and 
 
 VOL. III. c
 
 34 ESSAY IV. ■ 
 
 all the farther power he possesses must be founded ei- 
 ther on our own opinion, or on the presumed opinion 
 of others. And thouoh affection to wisdom and virtue 
 in a sove)-eign extends very far, and has great influ- 
 ence, )'et he must antecedently be supposed invested 
 with a public character, otherwise the public esteem 
 will serve him in no stead, nor will his virtue have any 
 influence beyond a narrow sphere. 
 
 A government may endure for several ages, though 
 tlie balance of power and the balance of property do 
 not coincide. This chiefly happens where any rank or 
 order of the state has acquired a large share in the 
 property ; but, from the original constitution of the go- 
 vernment, has no share in the power. Under what 
 pretence would any individual of that order assume 
 authority in public affairs? As men are commonly 
 much attached to their ancient government, it is not to 
 be expected, that the public would ever favour such 
 usurpations. But where the original constitution al- 
 lows any share of power, though small, to an order of 
 men who possess a large share of property, it is easy 
 for them gradually to stretch their authority, and bring 
 the balance of power to coincide with that of property. 
 This has been the case with the House of Commons in 
 England. 
 
 Most writers that have treated of the British govern- 
 ment, have supposed, that, as the Lower House repre- 
 sents all the Commons of Great 13ritain, its weight in 
 the scale is proportioned to the property and power of 
 all whom it represents. But this principle must not 
 be received as absolutely true. Tor though the people 
 are apt to attach themselves more to the House of 
 Commons than to any other member of the constitu-
 
 PRINCIPLES OF GOVERNMENT. 35 
 
 tion, that House being cliosen by them as theif repre*- 
 sentatives, and as the public guardians of their Hberty : 
 yet are there instances where the House, even when in 
 opposition to the crown, has not been followed by the 
 people, as we may particularly observe of the Torij 
 House of Commons in the reio-n of Kinff William. 
 Were the members obliged to receive instructions from 
 their constituents, like the Dutch deputies, this w^ould 
 entirely alter the case ; and if such immense power and 
 riches, as those of all the Commons of Great Britain, 
 were brought into the scale, it is not easy to conceive, 
 that the crown could either influence that multitude of 
 people, or withstand that balance of property. It is 
 true, the crown has great influence over the collective 
 body in the elections of members ; but were this influ- 
 ence, which at present is only exerted once in seven 
 years, to be employed in bringing over the people to 
 every vote, it would soon be wasted, and no skill, po- 
 pularity or revenue, could support it. I must, there- 
 fore, be of opinion, that an alteration in this particular 
 would introduce a total alteration in our government, 
 and would soon reduce it to a pure republic ; and, per- 
 haps, to a republic of no inconvenient form. For 
 though the people, collected in a body like the Roman 
 tribes, be quite unfit for government, yet, when dis- 
 persed in small bodies, they are more susceptible both 
 of reason and order ; the force of popular currents and 
 tides is in a great measure broken ; and the public in- 
 terest may be pursued with some method and constan- 
 cy. But it is needless to reason any farther concern- 
 ing a form of government which is never likely to have 
 place in Great Britain, and which seems not to be the 
 aim of any party amongst us. Let us cherish andim- 
 prove our ancient government as much as possible, 
 
 c2
 
 S6 
 
 ESSAY IV. 
 
 without enconraging a passion for such dangerous no- 
 velties. "^ 
 
 ' I shall conclude tliis subject with observing, that the present poli- 
 tical controversy with regard to instructions, is a very frivolous one, and 
 can never be brought to any decision, as it is managed by both parties. 
 The country partj- do not protend that a member is absolutely bound to 
 follow instructions as an ambassador or general is confined by his orders, 
 and that his vote is not to be received in the House but so far as it is 
 conformable to tliem. The court party, again, do not pretend that the 
 sentiments of the people ought to have no weight with every member ; 
 much less that he ought to despise the sentiments of those whom he re- 
 presents, and with whom he is more particularly connected. And if 
 their sentiments be of weight, why ought tliey not to express these sen- 
 timents ? Tlie question then is only concerning the degrees of weight 
 which ought to be placed on instructions. But such is the nature of 
 language, that it is impossible for it to express distinctly these different 
 degrees ; and if men will carry on a controversy on this head, it may 
 well happen that tliey differ in the language, and yet agree in their senti- 
 ments ; or differ in their sentiments, and yet agree in their language. 
 Besides, how is it possible to fix these degrees, considering the variety 
 of aflUirs that come before the House, and the variety of places which 
 members represent? Ought the instructions of Totness to have the 
 same weight as those of London ? or instructions with regard to the 
 Convention which respected foreign politics, to have the same weight as 
 those witli regard to the Excise, which respected only our domestic af- 
 airs ?— EniTioys A, C, D.
 
 OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. 37 
 
 ESSAY V. « 
 
 OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. 
 
 Man, born in a family, is compelled to maintain so- 
 ciety from necessity, from natural inclination, and from 
 habit. The same creature, in his farther progress, is 
 engaged to establish political society, in order to admi- 
 nister justice, without which there can be no peace a- 
 mong them, nor safety, nor mutual intercourse. We 
 are, therefore, to look upon all the vast apparatus of 
 our government, as having ultimately no other object 
 or purpose but the distribution of justice, or, in other 
 words, the support of the twelve judges. Kings and 
 parliaments, fleets and armies, officers of the court an d 
 revenue, ambassadors, ministers and privy-counsellors, 
 are all subordinate in their end to this part of admini- 
 stration. Even the clergy, as their duty leads them to 
 mculcate morality, may justly be thought, so far as re- 
 gards this world, to have no other useful object of their 
 institution. 
 
 All men are sensible of the necessity of justice to 
 maintain peace and order ; and all men are sensible of 
 the necessity of peace and order for the maintenance 
 of society. Yet, notwithstanding this strong and ob- 
 
 * This Essay is not published in any of the Editions prior to Edi- 
 tion O.
 
 38 ESSAY V. 
 
 vious necessity, such is the IViiilty or perverseness of 
 our nature ! it is ini^jossible to keep men fiiithlully and 
 unerrin<5ly in the paths of justice. Some extraordi- 
 nary circumstances may happen, in which a man finds 
 his interests to be more promoted by fraud or rapine, 
 than hurt by the breach which liis injustice makes in 
 tlie social vuiion. But much more frequently he is se- 
 duced from his great and important, but distant inte- 
 rests, by the allurement of present, though often very 
 frivolous temptations. This great weakness is incur- 
 able in human nature. 
 
 Men must, therefore, endeavour to palliate what they 
 cannot cure. They must institute some persons under 
 the appellation of magistrates, whose peculiar ofiice it 
 is to point out the decrees of equitj^, to punish trans^- 
 gressors, to correct fraud and violence, and to oblige 
 men, however reluctant, to consult their own real and 
 permanent interests. In a word, obedience is a new 
 duty which must be invented to support that of justice, 
 and the ties of ecjuity must be corroborated by those 
 of allegiance. 
 
 But still, viewing matters in an abstract light, it may 
 be thought that nothing is gained by this alliance, and 
 that the factitious duty of obedience, from its very na- 
 ture, lays as feeble a hold of the human mind, as the 
 primitive and natural duty of justice. Peculiar inte- 
 rests and present temptations may overcome the one as 
 well as the other. They are equally exposed to the 
 same inconvenience ; and the man who is inclined to be 
 a bad neighbour, must be led by the same motives, 
 well or ill understood, to be a bad citizen or subject. 
 Not to mention, that the magistrate himself may often 
 be negligent, or partial, or unjust in his administration. 
 
 ]:^xj)eriei!te, however, proves that there is a great difU
 
 OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVEHNMENT. 39 
 
 ference between the cases. Order in society, we find, 
 is much better maintained by means of government ; 
 and our duty to the magistrate is more strictly guarded 
 by the principles of human nature, than our duty to our 
 fellow-citizens. The love of dominion is so strong in 
 the breast of man, that many not only submit to, but 
 court all the dangers, and fatigues, and cares of govern- 
 ment ; and men, once raised to that station, though oft- 
 en led astray by private passions, find, in ordinary cases, 
 a visible interest in the impartial administration of jus- 
 tice. The persons who first attain this distinction, by 
 the consent, tacit or express, of the people, must be 
 endowed with superior personal qualities of valour, 
 force, integrity, or prudence, which command respect 
 and confidence ; and, after government is established, 
 a regard to birth, rank, and station, has a mighty in- 
 fluence over men, and enforces the decrees of the ma- 
 gistrate. The prince or leader exclaims against every 
 disorder which disturbs his society. He summons all 
 his partisans and all men of probity to aid him in cor- 
 recting and redressing it ; and he is readily followed by 
 all indifferent persons in the execution of his ofiice. 
 He soon acquires the power of rewarding these ser- 
 vices; and in the progress of society, he establishes 
 subordinate ministers, and often a military force, who 
 find an immediate and a visible interest in supporting 
 his authority. Habit soon consolidates what other prin- 
 ciples of human nature had imperfectly founded ; and 
 men, once accustomed to obedience, never think of de- 
 parting from that path, in which they and their ances- 
 tors have constantly trod, and to which they are con- 
 fined by so many urgent and visible motives. 
 
 But though this progress of human affairs may ap- 
 pear certain and inevitiible, and though the support
 
 40 ESSAY V. »; 
 
 which allegiance brings to justice be founded on obvi- 
 ous principles of human nature, it cannot be expected 
 that men should beforehand be able to discover them, 
 or foresee their operation. Government commences 
 more casually and moj-e imperfectly. It is probable, 
 that the first ascendant of one man over multitudes 
 begun during a state of war ; where the superiority of 
 courage and of genius discovers itself most visibly, 
 where unanimity and concert are most requisite, and 
 where the pernicious effects of disorder are most sen- 
 sibly felt. The long continuance of that state, an inci- 
 dent common among savage tribes, inured the people 
 to submission ; and if the chieftain possessed as much 
 equity as prudence and valour, he became, even during 
 peace, the arbiter of all differences, and could gradu- 
 ally, by a mixture of force and consent, establish his 
 authority. The benefit sensibly felt from his influence, 
 made it be cherished by the people, at least by the 
 peaceable and well-disposed among them ; and if his 
 son enjoyed the same good qualities, government advan- 
 ced the sooner to maturity and perfection ; but was still 
 in a feeble state, till the farther progress of improve- 
 ment procured the magistrate a revenue, and enabled 
 him to bestow rewards on the several instruments of his 
 administration, and to inflict punishments on the re- 
 fractory and disobedient. Before that period, each ex- 
 ertion of his influence must have been particular, and 
 founded on the peculiar circumstances of the case. Af- 
 ter it, submission was no longer a matter of choice in 
 the bulk of the community, but was rigorously exacted 
 by the authority of the supreme magistrate. 
 
 In all governments, there is a perpetual intestine 
 struggle, open or secret, between Authority and Li- 
 iK'rty ; and neither of them can ever absolutely prevail
 
 OF THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT. 41 
 
 in the contest. A great sacrifice of liberty must neces- 
 sarily be made in every government ; yet even the au- 
 thority, which confines liberty, can never, and perhaps 
 ought never, in any constitution, to become quite entire 
 and uncontrollable. The sultan is master of the life and 
 fortune of any individual ; but will not be permitted to 
 impose new taxes on his subjects : a French monarch 
 can impose taxes at pleasure ; but would find it dan- 
 gerous to attempt the lives and fortunes of individuals. 
 Religion also, in most countries, is commonly found to 
 be a very intractable principle ; and other principles 
 or prejudices frequently resist all the authority of the 
 civil magistrate ; whose power, being founded on opi- 
 nion, can never subvert other opinions equally rooted 
 with that of his title to dominion. The government, 
 which, in common appellation, receives the appellation 
 of free, is that which admits of a partition of power 
 among several members, whose united authority is no 
 less, or is commonly greater, than that of any monarch; 
 but who, in the usual course of administration, must 
 act by genei'al and equal laws, that are previously 
 known to all the members, and to all their subjects. 
 In this sense, it must be owned, that liberty is the per- 
 fection of civil society ; but still authority must be ac- 
 knowledged essential to its very existence : and in those 
 contests which so often take place between the one and 
 the other, the latter may, on that account, challenge 
 the preference. Unless perhaps one may say (and it 
 may be said with some reason) that a circumstance, 
 which is essential to the existence of civil society, must 
 always support itself, and needs be guarded with less 
 jealousy, than one that contributes only to its perfec- 
 tion, which the indolence of men is so apt to neglect, 
 or their ignorance to overlook.
 
 42 ESSAY VI. 
 
 ESSAY VI. 
 
 OF THE INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 
 
 Political writers have established it as a maxim, 
 that, in contriving any system of government, and fix- 
 ing the several checks and controls of the constitution, 
 every man ought to be supposed a knave, and to have 
 no other end, in all his actions, than private interest. 
 By this interest we must govern him, and, by means of 
 
 P In the Editions A, C and D, this Essay is introduced by the following 
 examination of the spirit of parties. — I have frequently observed, in com- 
 paring the conduct of the court and country party, that the former are 
 commonly less assuming and dogmatical in conversation, more apt to 
 make concessions, and though not, perhaps, more susceptible of con- 
 viction, yet more able to bear contradiction than the latter, who are 
 a])t to fly out upon any opposition, and to regard one as a mercenary, 
 designing fellow, if he argues with any coolness and impartiality, or 
 makes any concessions to their adversaries. Tliis is a fact, which, I 
 believe, every one may have observed who has been much in companies 
 where political questions have been discussed ; though, were one to ask 
 the reason of this diflerence, every party would be apt to assign a dif- 
 ferent reason. Gentlemen in the opposition will ascribe It to the very 
 nature of their party, which, being founded on public spirit, and a zeal 
 for the constitution, cannot easily endure such doctrines as are of per- 
 nicious consequence to liberty. The courtiers, on the other hand, will 
 be apt to put us in mind of the clown mentioned by Lord Shaftsbury, 
 ' A clown, ' says that excelk'nt author, * ' once took a fancy to hear 
 
 iVIisccllaneous Reflections, page 107,
 
 INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 43 
 
 it, make him, notwithstanding his insatiable avarice and 
 ambition, cooporate to public good. Without this, 
 say they, we shall in vain boast of the advantages of 
 any constitution, and shall find, in the end, that we 
 have no security for our liberties or possessions, ex- 
 
 the Latin disputes of doctors at an university. He was asked what plea- 
 sure he could take in viewing such combatants, when he could never 
 know so much as wliich of the parties had the better. ' — ' Fur that mat- 
 ter,' replied the clown, ' I an I such a fool neither, but I can see ivho^s 
 thejirst that jmts t'other into a passion.' Nature herself dictated this 
 lesson to the clown, that he who had the better of the argument would 
 be easy and well humoured : But he who was unable to support his 
 cause by reason would naturally lose his temper, and grow violent. ' 
 
 To which of these reasons will we adhere ? To neither of them, in 
 my opinion ; unless we have a mind to inlist ourselves and become zea- 
 lots in either party. I believe I can assign the reason of this different 
 conduct of the two parties, without offending either. The counti-y party 
 are plainly most popular at present, and perhaps have been so in most 
 administrations : So that, being accustomed to prevail in company, they 
 cannot endure to bear their opinions controverted, but are as confident 
 on the public favour, as if they were supported in all their sentiments by 
 the most infallible demonstration. The courtiers, on the other hand, 
 are commonly run down by your popular talkers, that if you speak to 
 them with any moderation, or make them the smallest concessions, they 
 think themselves extremely obliged to you, and are apt to return the fa- 
 vour by a like moderation and facility on their part. To be furious 
 and passionate, they know, would only gain them the character o{ shame- 
 less mercenaries, not that of zcalotis patriots, which is the character that 
 such a warm behaviour is apt to acquire to the other party. 
 
 In all controversies, we find, without regarding the truth or falsehood 
 on either side, that those who defend the established and popular opi- 
 nions are always most dogmatical and imperious in their style : while 
 their adversaries affect almost extraordinary gentleness and moderation, 
 in order to soften, as much as possible, any prejudices that may be a- 
 gainst them. Consider the behaviour of our Free-thinkers of all deno- 
 minations, whether they be such as decry all revelation, or oiily oppose 
 the exorbitant power of the clergy ; Collins, Tindal, Foster, Hoadley. 
 Compare their moderation and good manners with the furious zeal and 
 scurrility of their adversaries, and you will be convinced of the trutU
 
 44 ESSAY vr. 
 
 cept the good will of our rulers ; that is, we shall have 
 no security at all. 
 
 It is, therefore, a just political maxim, that every 
 vian must he supposed a knave ; though, at the same 
 tune, it appears somewhat strange, that a maxim should 
 be true in politics which is false mfact. But to satisfy 
 us on this head, we may consider, that men are gene- 
 nerally more honest in their private than in their pub- 
 lic capacity, and will go greater lengths to serve a 
 party, than when their own private interest is alone 
 
 of iny obsers'ation. A like difference may be observed in the conduct 
 of those French writers, who maintained the controversy with regard to 
 ancient and modern learning. Boileau, Monsieur and Madame Dacier, 
 I'Abbe de Bos, who defended the party of the ancients, mixed their 
 reasonings with satire and invective; while Fontenelle, la Mottc, Char- 
 pentier, and even Perrault, never transgressed the bounds of modera- 
 tion and good breeding, though provoked by tlie most injurious treat- 
 ment of their adversaries. 
 
 I must however observe, that this remark with regard to the seeming 
 moderation of the court party, is entirely confined to conversation, and 
 to gentlemen who have been engaged by interest or inclination in that 
 party. For as to the court writers, being commonly hired scribblers, 
 they are altogether as scurrilous as the mercenaries of the other party : 
 Nor has the Gazetteer any advantage, in this respect, above comvion sense. 
 A man of education will, in any party, discover himself to be such by his 
 good breeding and decency, as a scoundrel will always betray the oppo- 
 lite qualities. The false accusers accused, &c. is very scurrilous, though 
 that side of the question, being least popular, should be defended with 
 most moderation. When L — d B — c, L — dM — t, Mr L — n, 
 take the pen in liand, though they write with warmtli, they presume not 
 upon tJieir popularity so far as to transgress tlie bounds of decency. 
 
 I am led into this train of reflection by considering some papers wrote 
 apon that grand topic of court influence and parliamentary dependence, 
 where, in my humble opinion, the country party show too rigid an inflexi- 
 bility, and too great a jealousy of making concessions to their adversaries. 
 Their reasonings lose their force by being carried too far; and the po- 
 pularity of their ojiinions has seduced them to neglect in some measure 
 their justness and solidity. The following reasoning will, I hope, serve 
 to justify me in tliis opinion.
 
 INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 46 
 
 concerned. Honour is a great check upon mankind : 
 But where a considerable body of men act together, 
 this check is in a great measure removed, since a man 
 is sure to be approved of by his own party, for what 
 promotes the common interest ; and he soon learns to 
 despise the clamours of adversaries. To which we 
 may add, that every court or senate is determined by 
 the greater number of voices ; so that, if self-interest 
 influences only the majority (as it will always do), the 
 whole senate follows the allurements of this separate 
 interest, and acts as if it contained not one member 
 who had any regard to public interest and liberty. 
 
 When there offers, therefore, to our censure and ex- 
 amination, any plan of government, real or imaginary, 
 where the power is distributed among several courts, 
 and several orders of men, we should always consider 
 the separate interest of each court, and each order; 
 and if we find that, by the skilful division of power, 
 this interest must necessarily, in its operation, concur 
 with the public, we may pronounce that government 
 to be wise and happy. If, on the contrary, separate 
 interest be not checked, and be not directed to the 
 public, we ought to look for nothing but faction, disor- 
 der, and tyranny from such a government. In this 
 opinion I am justified by experience, as well as by the 
 authority of all philosophers and politicians, both an- 
 cient and modern. 
 
 How much, therefore, would it have surprised such 
 a genius as Cicero or Tacitus, to have been told, that 
 in a future age there should arise a very regular sys- 
 tem of mixed government, where the authority was so 
 distributed, that one rank, whenever it pleased, might 
 swallow up all the rest, and engross the whole power 
 of the constitution ! — Such a government, they would
 
 46 ESSAY vr. 
 
 say, will not be a mixed government. For so great is 
 the natural ambition of men, that they are never satis- 
 fied with power ; and if one order of men, by pursuing 
 its own interest, can usurp upon every other order, it 
 will certainly do so, and render itself, as far as possible, 
 absolute and uncontrollable. 
 
 But, in this opinion, experience shows they would 
 liave been mistaken. For this is actually the case with 
 the British constitution. The share of power allotted 
 by our constitution to the House of Commons is so 
 great, that it absolutely commands all the other parts 
 of the government. The king's legislative power is 
 plainly no proper check to it. For though the king 
 has a negative in framing laws, yet this, in fact, is 
 esteemed of so little moment, that whatever is voted 
 by the two Houses, is always sure to pass into a law, 
 and the royal assent is little better than a form. The 
 principal weight of the crown lies in the executive 
 power. But, besides that the executive power in every 
 government is altogether subordinate to the legislative; 
 besides this, I say, the exercise of this power requires 
 an immense expense, and tlie Commons have assumed 
 to tliemselves the sole right of granting money. How 
 easy, therefore, would it be for that house to wrest 
 from the crown all these powers, one after another, by 
 making every grant conditional, and choosing their 
 time so well, that their refusal of supply should only 
 distress the government, without giving foreign powers 
 any advantage over us I Did the House of Conmions 
 depend in the same manner upon the king, and had 
 none of the members any property but from his gift, 
 would not he command all their resolutions, and be 
 from that moment absolute? As to the House of 
 Liords, tliey are a very powerful support to the crown,
 
 INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 47 
 
 SO long as they are, in their turn, supported by it ; but 
 both experience and reason show, that they have no 
 force or authority sufficient to maintain themselves 
 alone, without such support. 
 
 How, therefore, shall we solve this paradox ? And 
 by what means is this member of our constitution con- 
 fined within the proper limits, since, from our very con- 
 stitution, it must necessarily have as much power as it 
 demands, and can only be confined by itself? How is 
 this consistent with our experience of human nature ? 
 I answer, that the interest of the body is here restrained 
 by that of the individuals, and that the House of Com- 
 mons stretches not its power, because such an usurpa- 
 tion would be contrary to the interest of the majority 
 of its members. The crown has so many offices at its 
 disposal, that, when assisted by the honest and disin- 
 terested part of the House, it will always command the 
 resolutions of the whole, so far, at least, as to preserve 
 the ancient constitution from danger. We may, there- 
 fore, give to this influence what name we please ; we 
 may call it by the invidious appellations of corruption 
 and dependence ; but some degree and some kind of it 
 are inseparable from the very nature of the constitution, 
 and necessary to the preservation of our mixed govern- 
 ment. 
 
 Instead, then, of asserting ^ absolutely, that the de- 
 pendence of parliament, in every degree, is an infringe- 
 ment of British liberty, the country party should have 
 made some concessions to their adversaries, and have 
 only examined what was the proper degree of this de- 
 pendence, beyond which it became dangerous to li- 
 berty. But such a moderation is not to be expected in 
 
 ^ See Dissertation on Parties, throughout.
 
 48 ESSAY vr. 
 
 party-men of any kind. After a concession of this na- 
 ture, all declamation must be abandoned ; and a calm 
 inquiry into the proper degree of court influence and 
 parliamentary dependence would have been expected 
 by the readers. And though the advantage, in such a 
 controversy, might possibly remain to the country xiarty, 
 yet the victory would not be so complete as they wish 
 for, nor would a true patriot have given an entire loose 
 to his zeal, for fear of running matters into a contrary 
 extreme, by diminishing too " far the influence of the 
 crown. It was, therefore, thought best to deny that 
 this extreme could ever be dangerous to the constitu- 
 tion, or that the crown could ever have too little influ- 
 ence over members of parliament. 
 
 All questions concerning the proper medium between 
 extremes are difficult to be decided ; both because it is 
 not easy to find xa-oi-fls proper to fix this medium, and 
 because the good and ill, in such cases, run so gradu- 
 ally into each other, as even to render our sentiments 
 doubtful and uncertain. But there is a peculiar diffi- 
 culty in the present case, which would embarrass the 
 most knowing and most impartial examiner. The 
 power of the crown is always lodged in a single person, 
 either king or minister ; and as this person may have 
 either a greater or less degree of ambition, capacity, 
 
 " By that injluence of the crown, which I would justify, I mean only 
 that which arises from tlie offices and honours that arc at the disposal of 
 the crown. As to private bribery, it may be considered in the same light 
 as the practice of employing spies, which is scarcely justifiable in a good 
 minister, and is infamous in a bad one : But to be a spy, or to be cor- 
 rupted, is always infamous under all ministers, and is to be regarded as 
 a shameless prostitution. Polybius justly esteems the pecuniary influ- 
 ence of the senate and censors to be one of the regular and constitution- 
 al weights xvhich preserved the balance of the Roman government.— 
 Lib. vi. cap. lo.
 
 INDEPENDENCY OF PARLIAMENT. 49 
 
 courage, popularity, or fortune, the power, which is too 
 great in one hand, may become too httle in another. 
 In pure repubhcs, where the authority is distributed 
 among several assembhes or senates, the checks and 
 controls are more regular in their operation ; because 
 the members of such numerous assemblies may be pre-^ 
 sumed to be always nearly equal in capacity and virtue ; 
 and it is only their number, riches, or authority, which 
 enter into consideration. But a limited monarchy ad- 
 mits not of any such stability ; nor is it possible to as- 
 sign to the crown such a determinate degree of power, 
 as will, in every liand, form a proper counterbalance 
 to the other parts of the constitution. This is an un- 
 avoidable disadvantage, among the many advantages 
 attending that species of government. 
 
 A'OL. I it;
 
 50 ESSAY VII. 
 
 ESSAY VII. 
 
 WHETIIETl THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT INCLINES MORE 
 TO ABSOLUTE MONARCHY OR TO A REPUBLIC. 
 
 It afFords a violent prejudice against almost every 
 science, that no prudent man, however sure of his prin- 
 ciples, dares prophesy concerning any event, or fore- 
 tel the remote consequences of things. A physician will 
 not venture to pronounce concerning the condition of his 
 patient a fortnight or a month after : And still less dares 
 a politician foretel the situation of public affairs a few 
 years hence. Harrington thought himself so sure of his 
 general principles, that the balance of jpoisoer depends on 
 that of i)ropcrt\j^ that he ventured to pronounce it im- 
 possible ever to re-establish monarchy in England : 
 But his book was scarcely published when the king 
 was restored ; and we see that monarchy has ever since 
 subsisted upon the same footing as before. Notwith- 
 standing this unlucky example, I will venture to exa- 
 mine an important question, to wit, Whether the Bri- 
 tish Govci'nmeyit inclines more to absolute monarchy or to 
 a republic ; and in itohich of these two species of govern- 
 ment it will most probably terminate P As there seems 
 not to be any great danger of a sudden revolution ei- 
 ther way, I shall at least escape the shame attending 
 my temerity, if I should be found to have been mista- 
 ken.
 
 THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 51 
 
 Those who assert that the balance of our govern- 
 ment mclines towards absolute monarchy, may sup- 
 port their opinion by the following reasons : That 
 property has a great influence on power cannot pos- 
 sibly be denied ; but yet the general maxim, that the 
 balance of the one dcpemh on the balance of tJie other, 
 must be received with several limitations. It is evi- 
 dent, tliat much less property in a single hand will be 
 able to counterbalance a greater property in several ; 
 not only because it is difficult to make many persons 
 combine in the same views and measures, but because 
 property, when united, causes much greater depend- 
 ence than the same property when dispersed. A hun- 
 dred persons, of 1000/. a year a piece, can consume all 
 tJieir income, and nobody shall ever be the better for 
 them, except their servants and tradesmen, who justly 
 regard their profits as the product of their own labour. 
 But a man possessed of 100,000/. a year, if he has ei- 
 ther any generosity or any cunning, may create a great 
 dependence by obligations, and still a greater by ex- 
 pectations. Hence we may observe, that, in all free 
 governments, any subject exorbitantly rich has alwaj^s 
 created jealousy, even though his riches bore no pro- 
 portion to those of the state. Crassus's fortune, if I 
 remember well, amounted only to about two millions 
 and a half of our money ; yet we find, that though his 
 genius was nothing extraordinary, he was able, by 
 means of his riches alone, to counterbalance, during 
 his lifetime, the power of Pompey as well as that of 
 Caesar, who afterwards became master of the world. 
 The wealth of the Medici made them masters of Flo- 
 rence, though it is probable it was not considerable, 
 compared to the united property of that opulent re- 
 public. 
 
 d2
 
 62 ESSAY VII. 
 
 These considerations are apt to make one entertain 
 a magnificent idea of the British spirit and love of li- 
 berty, since we could maintain our free government, 
 during so many centuries, against our sovereigns, who, 
 besides the power, and dignity, and majesty of the 
 crown, have always been possessed of much more pro- 
 perty than any subject has ever enjoyed in any com- 
 monwealth. But it may be said that this spirit, how- 
 ever great, will never be able to support itself against 
 that immense property which is now lodged in the 
 king, and which is still increasing. Upon a moderate 
 computation, there are near three millions a year at 
 the disposal of the crown. The civil list amounts to 
 near a million ; the collection of all taxes to another; 
 and the employments in the army and navy, together 
 with ecclesiastical preferments, to above a third mil- 
 lion : — an enormous sum, and what may fairly be com- 
 puted to be more than a thirtieth part of the whole in- 
 come and labour of the kinjjdom. When we add to 
 this great property the increasing luxury of the nation, 
 our proneness to corruption, together with the great 
 power and prerogatives of the crown, and the com- 
 mand of military force, there is no one but must de- 
 spair of being able, without extraordinary efforts, to- 
 support our free government much longer under these 
 disadvantages. 
 
 On the other hand, those who maintain that the bias 
 of the British government leans towards a republic, 
 may support their opinion by specious arguments. It 
 may be said, that though this immense property in the 
 erown be joined to the dignity of first magistrate, and 
 to many other legal powers and prerogatives, which 
 should naturally give it greater influence; yet it really 
 becouies less dangerous to liberty upon that ver}' ac-
 
 THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 53 
 
 » 
 
 count. Were England a republic, and were any pri- 
 vate man possessed of a revenue, a third, or even a 
 tenth part as large as that of the crown, he would very 
 justly excite jealousy ; because he would infallibly have 
 great authority in the government. And such an irre- 
 gular authority, not avowed by the laws, is always more 
 dangerous than a much greater authority derived from 
 them. A man possessed of usurped power can set no 
 bounds to his pretensions : His partisans have liberty 
 to hope for every thing in his favour : His enemies 
 provoke his ambition with his fears, by the violence of 
 their opposition : And the government being thrown 
 into a ferment, every corrupted humour in the state 
 naturally gathers to him. On the contrary, a legal au- 
 thority, though great, has always some bounds, which 
 terminate both the hopes and pretensions of the person 
 possessed of it : The laws must have provided a reme- 
 dy against its excesses : Such an eminent magistrate 
 has much to fear, and little to hope, from his usurpa- 
 tions : And as his legal authority is quietly submitted 
 to, he has small temptation and small opportunity of 
 extending it farther. Besides, it happens, with regard 
 to ambitious aims and projects, what may be observed 
 with regard to sects of philosophy and religion. A 
 new sect excites such a ferment, and is both opposed 
 and defended with such vehemence, that it always 
 spreads faster, and multiplies its partisans with greater 
 rapidity than any old established opinion, recommend- 
 ed by the sanction of the laws and of antiquity. Such 
 is the nature of novelty, that, where any thing pleases, 
 it becomes doubly agreeable, if new ; but if it displeases, 
 it is doubly displeasing upon that very account. And, 
 in most cases, the violence of enemies is favourable to 
 ambitious projects, as well as the zeal of partisans.
 
 54 ESSAY VII. 
 
 It may fartlier be said, that, though men be much 
 governed by interest, yet even interest itself, and all 
 human alFairs, are entirely governed by ojnnion. Now, 
 there has been a sudden and sensible change in the 
 opinions of men within these last fifty years, by the 
 progress of learning and of liberty. Most people in 
 tliis Island have divested themselves of all superstitious 
 reverence to names and authority : The clergy have 
 much lost their credit : Their pretensions and doc- 
 trines have been ridiculed ; and even religion can 
 scarcely support itself in the world. The mere name 
 of king commands little respect ; and to talk of a king 
 as God's vicegerent on earth, or to give him any of 
 those magnificent titles which formerly dazzled man- 
 kind, would but excite laughter in every one. Though 
 the crown, by means of its large revenue, may main- 
 tain its authority, in times of tranquillity, upon private 
 interest and influence, yet, as tlie least shock or con- 
 vulsion must break all these interests to pieces, the 
 royal power, being no longer supported by the settled 
 principles and opinions of men, will immediately dis- 
 solve. Had men been in the same disposition at the 
 lievolution, as they are at present, monarchy would 
 have run a great risk of being entirely lost in this 
 Island. 
 
 Durst I venture to deliver my own sentiments amidst 
 these opposite arguments, I would assert, that, unless 
 there happen some extraordinary convulsion, the powei' 
 of the crown, by means of its large revenue, is rather 
 upon the increase ; though at the same time, I own 
 that its progress seems very slow, and almost insen- 
 sible. The tide has run long, and with some rapidity, 
 to the side of popular government, and is just begin- 
 ning to turn towards monarchy.
 
 THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. 55 
 
 It is well known, that every government must come 
 to a period, and that death is unavoidable to the poli- 
 tical, as well as to the animal body. But, as one kind 
 of death may be preferable to another, it may be in- 
 quired, whether it be more desirable for the British 
 constitution to terminate in a popular government, or 
 in an absolute monarchy ? Here I would frankly de- 
 clare, that though liberty be preferable to slavery, m 
 almost every case ; yet I should rather wish to see an 
 absolute monarch than a republic in this Island. For 
 let us consider what kind of republic we have reason 
 to expect. The question is not concerning any fine 
 imaginary republic, of which a man forms a plan in his 
 closet. Thei'e is no doubt but a popular government 
 may be imagined more perfect than an absolute mo- 
 narchy, or even than our present constitution. But 
 what reason have we expect that any such government 
 will ever be established in Great Britain, upon the 
 dissolution of our monarchy ? If any single person 
 acquire power enough to take our constitution to pieces, 
 and put it up anew, he is really an absolute monarch ; 
 and we have already had an instance of this kind, 
 sufficient to convince us, that such a person will never 
 resign his power, or establish any free government. 
 Matters, therefore, must be trusted to their natural 
 progress and operation ; and the House of Commons, 
 according to its present constitution, must be the only 
 legislature in such a popular government. The incon- 
 veniences attending such a situation of affairs present 
 themselves by thousands. If the House of Commons, 
 in such a case, ever dissolve itself, which is not to be 
 expected, we may look for a civil war every election. 
 If it continue itself, we shall suffer all the tyranny of a 
 faction subdivided into new factions. And, as such a
 
 66 ESSAY VII. 
 
 violent government cannot long subsist, we shall, at 
 last, after many convulsions and civil wars, find repose 
 in absolute monarchy, which it would have been hap- 
 pier tor us to have established peaceably from the be- 
 ginning. Absolute monarchy, therefore, is the easiest 
 death, the true Euthanasia of the British constitution. 
 
 Thus, if we have reason to be more jealous of mo- 
 narchv, because the danjrer is more imminent from that 
 quarter ; we have also reason to be mor€ jealous of 
 popular government, because that danger is more ter- 
 rible. Tins may teach us a lesson of moderation in all 
 our political controversies.
 
 OF PARTIES IN GENEttAL. 57 
 
 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 OF TARTIES IN GENERAL. 
 
 Of all men that distinguish themselves by memorable 
 achievements, the first place of honour seems due to 
 Legislators and founders of states, who transmit a 
 system of laws and institutions to secure the peace, 
 happiness, and liberty of future generations. The in- 
 fluence of useful inventions in the arts and sciences 
 may, perliaps, extend farther than that of wise laws, 
 whose effects are limited both in time and place ; but 
 the benefit arising from the former is not so sensible 
 as that which results from the latter. Speculative sci- 
 ences do, indeed, improve the mind, but this advan- 
 tage reaches only to a few persons, who have leisure 
 to apply themselves to them. And as to practical arts, 
 which increase the commodities and enjoyments of life, 
 it is well known that men's happiness consists not so 
 much in an abundance of these, as in the peace and 
 security with which they possess them; and those 
 blessings can only be derived from good government. 
 Not to mention, that general virtue and good morals 
 in a state, which are so requisite to happiness, can 
 never arise from the most refined precepts of philo- 
 sophy, or even the severest injunctions of religion; 
 but must proceed entirely from the virtuous educa..
 
 58 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 tion of youth, the cfTect of wise laws and institutions. 
 I must, therefore, presume to differ from Lord Bacon 
 in this particuhir, and must regard antiquity as some- 
 what unjust in its distribution of honours, when it 
 made gods of all the inventors of useful arts, such as 
 Ceres, Bacchus, iEsculapius ; and dignified legislators, 
 such as Romulus and Theseus, only with the appella- 
 tion of demigods and heroes. 
 
 As much as legislators and founders of states ought 
 to be honoured and res])ected among men, as much 
 ought the founders of sects and factions to be detested 
 and hated ; because the influence of faction is directly 
 contrary to that of laws. Factions subvert government, 
 render laws unpotent, and beget the fiercest animosities 
 among men of the same nation, who ought to give 
 iiuitual assistance and protection to each other. And 
 what should render the founders of parties more odious, 
 is the difficulty of extirpating these weeds, when once 
 they have taken root in any state. They naturally 
 propagate themselves for many centuries, and seldom 
 end but Ijy the total dissolution of that government, in 
 which they are sown. They are, besides, plants which 
 grow most plentifully in the richest soil ; and though 
 absolute governments be not wholly free from them, it 
 must be confessed, that they rise more easily, and pro- 
 pagate themselves faster in free governments, where 
 tliey always infect the legislature itself, which alone 
 could be able, by the steady a])plication of rewards and 
 j)unishments, to eradicate them. 
 
 Factions may be divided into Personal and Real ; 
 tliat is, into factions founded on personal friendship or 
 animosity among such as compose the contending 
 parties, and into those founded on some real difference 
 of sentiment or interest. The reason of this distinction
 
 OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 59 
 
 is obvious ; though I must acknowledge, that parties are 
 seldom found pure and unmixed, either of the one kind 
 or the other. It is not often seen, that a government 
 divides into factions, where there is no difference in 
 the views of the constituent members, either real or 
 apparent, trivial or material : And in those factions, 
 which are founded on the most real and most material 
 difference, there is always observed a great deal of 
 personal animosity or affection. But notwithstanding 
 this mixture, a party may be denominated either per- 
 sonal or real, according to that principle which is pre- 
 dominant, and is found to have the greatest influence. 
 
 Personal factions arise most easily in small republics. 
 Every domestic quarrel, there, becomes an affair of 
 state. Love, vanity, emulation, any passion, as well as 
 ambition and resentment, begets public division. The 
 Neri and Bianchi of Florence, the Fregosi and A- 
 DOHNi of Genoa, the Colonnesi and Orsini of modern 
 Rome, were parties of this kind. 
 
 Men have such a propensity to divide into personal 
 factions, that the smallest appearance of real difference 
 will produce them. What can be imagined more trivial 
 than the difference between one colour of livery and 
 another in horse races ? Yet this difference begat two 
 most inveterate factions in the Greek empire, the Pra- 
 siNi and Veneti, who never suspended their animosi- 
 ties till they ruined that unhappy government. 
 
 We find in the Roman history a remarkable dissen- 
 sion between two tribes, the Pollia and Papiria, which 
 continued for the space of near three hundred years, 
 and discovered itself in their suffrages at every election 
 of magistrates. "^ This faction was the more remark- 
 
 ° As this fact has not been much observed by antiquaries or politi- 
 cians, I shall deliver it in the words of the Roman historian. « Populus
 
 60 ESSAY VJII. 
 
 able, as it could continue for so long a tract of time ; 
 even though it did not spread itself, nor draw any of 
 the other tribes into a share of the quarrel. If man- 
 kind had not a strong propensity to such divisions, the 
 indillerence of the rest of the community must have 
 suppressed this foolish animosity, that had not any ah- 
 ment of new benefits and injuries, of general sympathy 
 and antipathy, which never fail to take place, when the 
 whole state is rent into equal factions. 
 
 Nothing is more usual than to see parties, which have 
 begun upon a real difference, continue even after that 
 difference is lost. When men are once inlisted on op- 
 posite sides, they contract an affection to the persons 
 with whom they are united, and an animosity against 
 their antagonists ; and these passions they often trans- 
 mit to their posterity. The real difference between 
 Guelf and Ghibbeline was long lost in Italy, before 
 these factions were extinguislied. The Guelfs adhered 
 to the po])e, the Ghibbelines to the emperor; yet the 
 family of iSlbrza, who were in alliance with the empe- 
 ror, though they were Guelfs, being expelled Milan by 
 tiie king * of France, assisted by Jacomo Trivulzio and 
 the Ghibbelines, the pope concurred with the latter, 
 
 Tusculanus cum conjugibus ac liberis Romam venit : Ea multitudo ves- 
 tc mutata, ct speciu rcorum, tribus circuit, genibus se omnium advolvens. 
 Plus ita([uc misericordia ad pccna; veniam impetrandam, quar.i causa ad 
 crimen purgandum valuit. Tribus omnes, prater Polliam, antiquarunt 
 legem. PoUia; sententia fuit, puberes verberatos necari ; liberos conju- 
 gesquc sub corona leg'e l)elli venire: Memoriamque ejus ira; Tusculanjs 
 ill pftnac tam atrocis auctorcs, mansissc ad patrum aitatem constat, nee 
 quemquain fermc ex Pollia trilju candidatum Papiriam ferre solitum.'— 
 T. Livii, lib. H. The Castelani and Nicolloti are two mobbish factions 
 in Venice, wlio frequently box together, and then lay aside their quar. 
 relh pre»iontiy. 
 
 ^LcwibXII. •
 
 OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. Gt 
 
 and they formed leagues with the pope against the em- 
 peror. 
 
 The civil wars which arose some few years ago in 
 Morocco between the Blacks and Whites, merely on ac- 
 count of their complexion, are founded on a pleasant 
 difference. We laugh at them ; but, I believe, were 
 things rightly examined, we afford much more occasion 
 of ridicule to the Moors. For, what are all the wars 
 of religion, which have prevailed in this polite and 
 knowing part of the world ? They are certainly more 
 absurd than the Moorish civil wars. The difference of 
 complexion is a sensible and a real difference ; but the 
 controversy about an article of faith, which is utterly 
 absurd and unintelligible, is not a difference in senti- 
 ment, but in a few phrases and expressions, which one 
 party accepts of without understanding them, and the 
 other refuses in the same manner. ^ 
 
 Real factions may be divided into those from interest, 
 from prificiple, and from affection. Of all factions, the. 
 first are the most reasonable, and the most excusable. 
 Where two orders of men, such as the nobles and peo- 
 ple, have a distinct authority in a government, not very 
 accurately balanced and modelled, they naturally fol- 
 low a distinct interest ; nor can we reasonably expect 
 a different conduct, considering that degree of selfish- 
 ness implanted in human nature. It requires great skill 
 
 5 Besides I do not find that the Whites in Morocco ever imposed on 
 the Blacks any necessity of altering their complexion, or frightened thera 
 with inquisitions and penal laws in case of obstinacy. Nor have the 
 Blacks been more unreasonable in tliis particular. But is a man's opi- 
 nion, where he is able to form a real opinion, more at his disposal than 
 his complexion ? And can one be induced by force or fear to do more 
 than paint and disguise in the one case as well as iu the other ? — Eui- 
 TioNs A, C, D, N.
 
 62 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 in a legislator to prevent sucli parties ; and many phi- 
 losophers are of opinion, that this secret, like the grand 
 elixir^ or ])erpctual motion, may amuse men in theory, 
 but can never possibly be reduced to practice. In des- 
 potic governments, indeed, factions often do not ap- 
 pear ; but they are not the less real ; or rather, they 
 are more real and more pernicious upon that very ac- 
 count. The distinct orders of men, nobles and people, 
 soldiers and merchants, have all a distinct interest ; but 
 the more powerful oppresses the weaker with impunity, 
 and without resistance ; which begets a seeming tran- 
 quillity in such governments. 
 
 There has been an attempt in England to divide the 
 landed and trading part of the nation ; but without suc- 
 cess. The interests of these two bodies are not really 
 distinct, and never will be so, till our public debts in- 
 crease to such a degree as to become altogether op->- 
 pressive and intolerable. 
 
 Parties from ■principle, especially abstract speculative 
 principle, are known only to modern times, and are, 
 perhaps, the most extraordinary and unaccountable 
 phenomenon that has yet appeared in human affairs. 
 Where different principles beget a contrariety of con- 
 duct, which is the case with all different political prin- 
 ciples, the matter may be more easily explained. A 
 man who esteems the true right of government to lie 
 in one man, or one family, cannot easily agree with 
 his fellow-citizen, who thinks that another man or fa- 
 mily is possessed of this right. Each naturally wishes 
 that right may take place, according to his own notions 
 of it. But where the difference of principle is attend- 
 ed with no contrariety of action, but every one may 
 follow his own way, without interfering with his neigh- 
 bour, as ha})pens in all religious controversies, what
 
 OF PARTIES IN GENERAL, 63 
 
 madness, what fury, can beget such an unhappy and 
 
 such fatal divisions ? 
 
 Two men travelling on the highway, the one east, 
 
 the other west, can easily pass each other, if the way 
 be broad enough : but two men, reasoning upon oppo- 
 site principles of religion, cannot so easily pass, with- 
 out shocking, though one should think, that the way 
 were also, in that case, sufficiently broad, and that each 
 might proceed, without interruption, in his own course. 
 But such is the nature of the human mind, that it al- 
 ways lays hold on every mind that approaches it ; and 
 as it is wonderfully fortified by an unanimity of senti- 
 ments, so it is shocked and disturbed by any contrarie- 
 ty. Hence the eagerness which most people discover 
 in a dispute ; and hence their impatience of opposition, 
 even in the most speculative and indifferent opinions. 
 
 This principle, however frivolous it may appear, 
 seems to have been the origin of all religious wars and 
 divisions. But as this principle is universal in human 
 nature, its effects would not have been confined to one 
 age, and to one sect of religion, did it not there concur 
 with other more accidental causes, which raise it to 
 such a height as to produce the greatest misery and 
 devastation. Most religions of the ancient world arose 
 in the unknown ages of government, when men were 
 as yet barbarous and uninstructed, and the prince, as 
 well as peasant, was disposed to receive, with implicit 
 faith, every pious tale or fiction which was offered him. 
 The magistrate embraced the religion of the people, 
 and, entering cordially into the care of sacred matters^ 
 naturally acquired an authority in them, and united 
 the ecclesiastical with the civil power. But the C/nis~ 
 tia7i religion arising, while principles directly opposite 
 to it were firmly established hi the polite part of the
 
 Gl ESSAY VIII. 
 
 world, who despised tlie nation tliat first broached this 
 novehy ; no wonder tliat, in such circumstances, it was 
 but Httle countenanced by the civil magistrate, and that 
 the priesthood was allowed to engross all the authority 
 in the new sect. So bad a use did they make of this 
 power, even in those early times, that the primitive 
 persecutions may, perhaps in imrt, ' be ascribed to the 
 violence instilled by them into their followers. 
 
 And the same principles of priestly government con- 
 tinuing, after Christianity became the established reli- 
 gion, they have engendered a spirit of persecution, 
 which has ever since been the poison of human society, 
 and the source of the most inveterate factions in every 
 government. Such divisions, therefore, on the part of 
 the people, may justly be esteemed flictions of ^Wn- 
 ciplc ; but, on the part of the priests, who are the prime 
 movers, they are really factions of interest. 
 
 " I say in part ; for it is a vulgar error to imagine, that the ancients 
 were as great friends to toleration as the English or Dutch are at pre- 
 sent. Tlie laws against external superstition, among the Romans, were 
 as ancient as the time of the Twelve Tal)les ; and tlie Jews, as well as 
 Christians, were sometimes pnnished by tliem ; thougli, in general, (liese 
 laws were not rigorously executed. Immediately after the conquest of 
 Gaul, they forbad all l)ut the natives to be initiated into the religion of 
 the Druids ; and this was a kind of persecution. In about a century 
 after this conquest, the emperor Claudius quite abolished that supersti- 
 tion by penal laws ; wliich would have been a very grievous persecution, 
 if the imitation of the Roman manners had not, beforehand, weaned the 
 Cauls from their ancient prejudices. Suetonius in vita Claudii. Pliny 
 ascribes the abolition of the Druidical superstitions to Tiberius, probably 
 because tliat emperor had taken some steps towards restraining them 
 (lib. XXX. cap. i. ) This is an instance of the usual caution and modera- 
 tion of the Romans in siicii cases; and very different from their violent 
 and sanguinary method of treating the Christians. Hence we may en- 
 tertjnn a suspicion, that those furious persecutions of Christianity were 
 in some measure owing to the imprudent zeal and I)igotry of the fiist 
 propagators of that sect ; and ecclesiastical history allbids us many rea- 
 sons to confirm this suspicion.
 
 OF PARTIES IN GENERAL. 65 
 
 There is another cause (beside the authority of the 
 priests, and the separation of the ecclesiastical and civil 
 powers), which has contributed to render Christendom 
 the scene of religious wars and divisions. Religions 
 that arise in ages totally ignorant and barbarous, con- 
 sist mostly of traditional tales and fictions, which may 
 be different in every sect, without being contrary to 
 each other ; and even when they are contrary, every 
 one adheres to the tradition of his own sect, without 
 much reasoning or disputation. But as philosophy was 
 widely spread over the world at the time when Chris- 
 tianity arose, the teachers of the new sect were obliged 
 to form a system of speculative opinions, to divide, with 
 some accuracy, their articles of faith, and to explain, 
 comment, confute and defend, with all the subtlety of 
 argument and science. Hence naturally arose keen- 
 ness in dispute, when the Christian religion came to be 
 split into new divisions and heresies : And this keen- 
 ness assisted the priests in their policy of begetting a 
 mutual hatred and antipathy among their deluded fol- 
 lowers. Sects of philosophy, in the ancient world, 
 were more zealous than parties of religion ; but, in mo- 
 dern times, parties of religion are more furious and 
 enrao-ed than the most cruel factions that ever arose 
 from interest and ambition. 
 
 I have mentioned parties from affection as a kind of 
 real parties, beside those from interest and principle. 
 By parties from affection, I understand those which 
 are founded on the different attachments of men to- 
 wards particular families and persons whom they de- 
 sire to rule over them. These factions are often very 
 violent ; though, I must own, it may seem unaccount- 
 able that men should attach themselves so strongly 
 to persons with whom they are nowis;e ac(|uainted, 
 
 VOL. III. E
 
 66 ESSAY VI ir. 
 
 whom perhaps they never saw, and from whom they 
 never received, nor can ever hope for, any favour. 
 Yet this we often find to be the case, and even with 
 men, who, on other occasions, discover no great gene- 
 rosity of spirit, nor are found to be easily transported 
 by friendship beyond their own interest. We are apt 
 to think the rehition between us and our sovereign very 
 close and intimate. The splendour of majesty and 
 power bestows an importance on the fortunes even of 
 a single person. And when a man's good nature does 
 not give him this imaginary interest, his ill nature will, 
 from spite and opposition to persons whose sentiments 
 are different from his own.
 
 THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 67 
 
 ESSAY IX. 
 
 OF THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 
 
 Were the British government proposed as a subject 
 of speculation, one would immediately perceive in it a 
 source of division and party, which it would be almost 
 impossible for it, under any administration, to avoid. 
 The just balance between the republican and monar- 
 chical part of our constitution is really in itself so ex- 
 tremely delicate and uncertain, that, when joined to 
 men's passions and prejudices, it is impossible but dif- 
 ferent opinions must arise concerning it, even among 
 persons of the best understanding. Those of mild tem- 
 pers, who love peace and order, and detest sedition 
 and civil wars, will always entertain more favourable 
 sentiments of monarchy than men of bold and generous 
 spirits, who are passionate lovers of liberty, and think 
 no evil comparable to subjection and slavery. And 
 though all reasonable men agree in general to preserve 
 our mixed government, yet, when they come to parti- 
 culars, some will incline to trust greater powers to the 
 crown, to bestow on it more influence, and to guard 
 against its encroachments with less caution, than others 
 who are terrified at the most distant approaches of ty- 
 ranny and despotic power. Thus are there parties of 
 Principle involved in the very nature of our constitu- 
 
 E 2
 
 68 ESSAY IX. 
 
 tion, wliich may properly enough be denominated those 
 of Court and Country. ' ° The strength and violence 
 of each of these parties will nuich depend upon the 
 particular administration. An administration may be 
 so bad, as to throw a great majority into the opposi- 
 tion ; as a good administration will reconcile to the 
 court many of the most passionate lovers of liberty. 
 But however the nation may fluctuate between them, 
 the parties themselves will always subsist, so long as 
 we are governed by a limited monarchy. 
 
 But, besides this difference of Principle, those par- 
 ties are very much fomented by a difference of Inte- 
 rest, without which they could scarcely ever be dan- 
 gerous or violent. The crown will naturally bestow 
 all trust and power upon those whose principles, real 
 or pretended, are most favourable to monarchical go- 
 vernment ; and this temptation will naturally engage 
 them to go greater lengths than their principles would 
 otherwise carry them. Their antagonists, who are 
 disappointed in their ambitious aims, throw themselves 
 into the party whose sentiments incline them to be 
 most jealous of royal power, and naturally carry those 
 sentiments to a greater height than sound politics will 
 
 > o Tlicsc words have become of general use, and therefore I shall em- 
 ploy them without intending to express by them an universal blame of 
 the one party, or approbation of the otlier. The Court party may no 
 doubt, on some occasions, consult best the interest of the country, and 
 the Country party ()i)])Ose it. In like manner, the lioman parties were 
 denominated Optimates and Populares ; and Cicero, like a true party 
 man, defines the Optimates to lie such as, in all tlieir pubh'c conduct, re- 
 gulated tlicmselves hy the sentiments of the I'est and worthiest Roman?; 
 j)ro Scxtio. The term of Country party may afford a favo\iral)le definition 
 or etymology of the same kind ; but it would be folly to draw any argu- 
 ment from tliat l)ead, and I have no regard to it in employing these 
 tenns. — N'oii: in Editions A, C, 1), N.
 
 THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 69 
 
 justify. Thus Court and Country, which are the genu- 
 ine offspring of the British government, are a kind of 
 mixed parties, and are influenced both by principle and 
 by interest. The heads of the factions are commonly 
 most governed by the latter motive ; the inferior mem- 
 bers of them by the former. * ' 
 
 As to ecclesiastical parties, we may observe, that, in 
 all ages of the world, priests have been enemies to li- 
 berty ; ^ ^ and, it is certain, that this steady conduct of 
 theirs must have been founded on fixed reasons of in- 
 terest and ambition. Liberty of thinking, and of ex- 
 pressing our thoughts, is always fatal to priestly power, 
 and to those pious frauds on which it is commonly 
 founded ; and, by an infallible connexion, which pre- 
 vails among all kinds of liberty, this privilege can never 
 be enjoyed, at least has never yet been enjoyed, but in 
 a free government. Hence it must happen, in such a 
 constitution as that of Great Britain, that the establish- 
 ed clergy, while things are in their natural situation, 
 will always be of the Court party ; as, on the contrary, 
 dissenters of all kinds will be of the Coimtry party \ 
 since they can never hope for that toleration which 
 
 " ' I must be understood to mean this of persons wlio have any mo- 
 tive for taking party on any side. For, to tell the truth, the greatest 
 part are commonly men who associate themselves they know not why ; 
 from example, from passion, from idleness. But still it is requisite there 
 be some source of division, either in principle or interest; otherwise 
 such persons would not find parties to which they could associate them- 
 selves...— Editions A, C, D, N. 
 
 » * This proposition is true, notwithstanding that, in the early times- 
 of the English government, the clergy were the great and principal op- 
 posers of the crown ; but at that time their possessions were so immense- 
 ly great, that they composed a considerable part of the proi^rietors of 
 England, and in many contests were direet rivals of the crowa-— NoiB: 
 IN Editions C, D, N.
 
 70 ESSAY IX. 
 
 tliey stand in need of, but by means of our free go- 
 vernment. All princes that have aimed at despotic 
 power have known of what importance it was to gain 
 the established clergy ; as the clergy, on their part, 
 have 8110%^! a great fiicility in entering into the views of 
 such princes. " Gustavus Vasa was, perhaps, the only 
 ambitious monarch that ever depressed the church, at 
 the same time that he discouraged liberty. But the 
 exorbitant power of the bishops in Sweden, who at that 
 time overtopped the crown itself, together with their 
 attachment to a foreign family, w'as the reason of his 
 embracing such an unusual system of politics. 
 
 This observation, concerning the propensity of priests 
 to the government of a smgle person, is not true with 
 regard to one sect only. The Presbyterian and Cal- 
 vinistic clergy in Holland, were professed friends to the 
 family of Orange ; as the ArminiaJis, who were esteem- 
 ed heretics, were of the Louvestein faction, and zealous 
 for liberty. But if a prince have the choice of both, it 
 is easy to see that he will prefer the Episcopal to the 
 Presbyterian form of government, both because of the 
 greater affinity between monarchy and episcopacy, and 
 because of tlie facility which he will find, in such a go- 
 vernment, of ruling the clergy by means of their eccle- 
 siastical superiors. " 
 
 If we consider the first rise of parties in England, 
 during the great rebellion, we shall observe that it was 
 
 " Judoei silji ipbi reges impOBuerc, qui mobilitate vulgi expulsi, re- 
 fcumpu per arma dominationc, fugas civium, urbium eversiones, fra- 
 iruru, conjugum, parentum ncces, aliaque solita regibus ausi, superstiti- 
 onem fovebant ; quia honor sacerdotii firmamcnlum potcntiae, assume- 
 batur. Tacit. Hist. lib. v. 
 
 ^ Populi impcrium, juxU libcrtatem : paucorum dominalio, rcgia; li- 
 bidini propior est. Tacii, Ann. lib. vi.
 
 THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 71 
 
 conformable to this general theory, and that the species 
 of government gave birth to them by a regular and in- 
 fallible operation. The English constitution, before 
 that period, had lain in a kind of confusion, yet so as 
 that the subjects possessed many noble privileges, 
 which, though not exactly bounded and secured by 
 law, were universally deemed, from long possession, to 
 belong to them as their birthright. An ambitious, or 
 rather a misguided, prince arose, who deemed all these 
 privileges to be concessions of his predecessors, revoc- 
 able at pleasure ; and, in prosecution of this principle, 
 he openly acted in violation of liberty during the course 
 of several years. Necessity, at last, constrained him 
 to call a parliament : The spirit of liberty arose and 
 spread itself: The prince, being without any support, 
 was obliged to grant every thing required of him : And 
 his enemies, jealous and implacable, set no bounds to 
 their pretensions. Here, then, began those contests, 
 in which it was no wonder that men of that ag-e were 
 divided into different parties ; since, even at this day, 
 the impartial are at a loss to decide concerning the 
 justice of the quarrel. The pretensions of the parlia- 
 ment, if yielded to, broke the balance of the constitu- 
 tion, by rendering the government almost entirely re- 
 publican. If not yielded to, the nation was, perhaps, 
 still in danger of absolute power, from the settled prin- 
 ciples and inveterate habits of the king, which had 
 plainly appeared in every concession that he had been 
 constrained to make to his people. In this question, 
 so delicate and uncertain, men naturally fell to the 
 side which was most conformable to their usual prin- 
 ciples ; and the more passionate favourers of monarchy 
 declared for the king, as the zealous friends of liberty 
 sided with the parliament. The hopes of success be-
 
 TS ESSAY IX. 
 
 ing nearly equal on both sides, interc&t had no general 
 influence in this contest : So that Roundhead and 
 Cavalier were merely parties of principle, neither of 
 which disowned either monarchy or liberty; but the 
 former party inclined most to the republican part of 
 our government, the latter to the monarchical. In this 
 respect, they may be considered as court and country 
 party, inflamed into a civil war, by an unhappy con- 
 currence of circumstances, and by the turbulent spirit 
 of the age. The commonwealth's men, and the parti- 
 sans of absolute power, lay concealed in both parties, 
 and formed but an inconsiderable part of them. 
 
 The clergy had concurred with the king's arbitrary 
 designs ; and, in return, were allowed to persecute 
 their adversaries, whom they called heretics and schis- 
 matics. The established clergy were Episcopal, the 
 non-conformists Presbyterian ; so that all things con- 
 curred to throw the former, without reserve, into the 
 king's party, and the latter into that of the parlia- 
 ment. ^ ' 
 
 Every one knows the event of this quarrel ; fatal to 
 the king first, to the parliament afterwards. After 
 many confusions and revolutions, the royal family was 
 
 1 3 The clergy had concurred in a shameless manner with the Kinfj's 
 arbitrarj' desij^ns, accordinfij to their usual maxims in such cases, and, in 
 return, were allowed to persecute their adversaries, whom they called he- 
 retics and schismatics. The established clergy were Episcopal, the non- 
 conformists Presbyterians; so tliat all tilings concurred to throw the for- 
 mer, without rcscr\'c, into the King's i)arty, and tlie latter into that of 
 the I'arliament. Tlie Cannliers being the Court party, and the Round- 
 heads the Country party, the union was infallible betwixt the former and 
 the estal)lislied prelacy, and betwixt the latter and Presbyterian non- 
 conformists. 'J'his union is so natural, according to the general princi- 
 ples of ])()litics, that it requires some very extraordinary situation of af- 
 fairs to break it.— Ewxio.vs A, C, D, N. n
 
 THE PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN. 78 
 
 at last restored, and tlic ancient government re-esta- 
 blished. Cliarles II. was not made wiser by the exam- 
 ple of his father, but prosecuted the same measures, 
 though, at first, with more secrecy and caution. New 
 parties arose, under the appellation of Whig and Tb>//, 
 which have continued ever since to confound and dis- 
 tract our G;overnment. To determine the nature of 
 these parties is perhaps one of the most difficult pro- 
 blems that can be met with, and is a proof that history 
 may contain questions as uncertain as any to be found 
 in the most abstract sciences. We have seen the con- 
 duct of the two parties, during the course of seventy 
 years, in a vast variety of circumstances, possessed of 
 power, and deprived of it, during peace, and during 
 war : Persons, who profess themselves of one side or 
 other, we meet with every hour, in company, in our 
 pleasures, in our serious occupations : We ourselves 
 are constrained, in a manner, to take party; and, living 
 in a country of the highest liberty, every one may 
 openly declare all his sentiments and opinions : Yet 
 are we at a loss to tell the nature, pretensions and 
 principles, of the different factions. ^ * 
 
 When we compare the parties of Whig and Tory 
 with those of Roundhead and Cavalier, the most 
 obvious difference that appears between them consists 
 in the principles of jjassivc obedience, and indefeasible 
 right, which were but little heard of among the Cava- 
 liers, but became the universal doctrine, and were 
 esteemed the true characteristic of a Tory. Were 
 these principles pushed into their most obvious conse- 
 
 * * The question is perhaps in itself somewhat difficult, but has been 
 rendered more so by the prejudices and violence of party. — Editions, 
 A, C, D, N.
 
 ^'t ESSAY IX. 
 
 quences, they imply a formal renunciation of all our 
 liberties, and an avotval of absolute monarchy; since 
 nothing can be a greater absurdity than a limited power, 
 which must not be resisted, even when it exceeds its 
 limitations. But, as the most rational principles are 
 often but a weak counterpoise to passion, it is no won- 
 der that these absurd principles ' ^ were found too 
 \veak for that effect. The Tories, as men, were ene- 
 mies to oppression ; and also as Englishmen, they were 
 enemies to arbitrary power. Their zeal for liberty was, 
 perhaps, less fervent tiian that of their antagonists, but 
 was sufficient to make them forget all their general 
 principles, when they saw themselves openly threaten- 
 ed with a subversion of the ancient government. From 
 these sentiments arose the llcvolution ; an event of 
 mighty consequence, and the firmest foundation of 
 British liberty. The conduct of the Tories during 
 that event, and after it, will afford us a true insight in- 
 to the nature of that party. 
 
 In iho. Jirst place, they appear to have had the ge- 
 nuine sentiments of Britons in their affection for liber- 
 ty, and in their determined resolution not to sacrifice it 
 to any abstract principle whatsoever, or to any imagi- 
 nary rights of princes. This part of their character 
 might justly have been doubted of before the lievolu- 
 iion, from the obvious tendency of their avowed prin- 
 ciples, and from their ' '^ compliances with a court, 
 which seemed to make little secret of its arbitrary de- 
 signs. The Jlcvoluiiofi showed them to have been, in 
 
 ' 5 Editions, A, C, D, N, sufficient, according to a justly celebrated 
 author, • to shock the common sense of a Hottentot or Samoicde. 
 
 ' ^ In P^DiTioNs A, (', and D, we read idmosl unlmundcd compliances. 
 
 • Dissertation on Parties, Letter X.
 
 THK PARTIES OF GREAT BRITAIN". 75 
 
 this respect, nothing but a genuine cmirt party, sucli 
 as might be expected in a British government; that is, 
 lovers of liberty, but greater lovers of monarchy. It 
 must, however, be confessed, that they carried their 
 monarchical principles farther even in practice, but 
 more so in theory, than was in any degree consistent 
 with a limited government. 
 
 Secondly, Neither their principles nor affections con- 
 curred, entirely or heartily, with the settlement made 
 at the Bevolution, or with that which has since taken 
 place. This part of their character may seem opposite 
 to the former, since any other settlement, in those cir- 
 cumstances of the nation, must probably have been 
 dangerous, if not fatal, to liberty. But the heart of 
 man is made to reconcile contradictions ; and this con- 
 tradiction is not greater than that between passive obe- 
 dience, and the resistance employed at the Revolution. 
 A Tory, therefore, since the Hevolution, may be defin- 
 ed, in a few words, to be a lover of monarchy, though 
 *mithout abandoning liberty, and a partisan of the family 
 of Stuart : As a Whig may be defined to be a lover of 
 liberty, though nsoithojit renouncing monarchy, cmd a friend 
 to the settlement in the Protestant line. ' ' 
 
 * ■' In Editions A and C, the definitions of Whig and Tory were fol- 
 lowed by remarks in the text, which are thrown into a note in Editions 
 D and N, and omitted altogether in 0. 
 
 The celebrated writer above cited has asserted, that the real distinc- 
 tion betwixt Whig and Tory was lost at the Revolution, and that ever 
 since they have continued to be mere personal parties, like the Gueljs and 
 Ghibbellines, after the Emperors had lost all authority in Ttali/. Such 
 an opinion, were it received, would turn our whole history into an 
 enigma. 
 
 I shall first mention, as a proof of a real distinction betwixt these par- 
 tics, what every one may have observed or heard concerning the conduct 
 and conversation of all his friends and sicquaintance on both sides.
 
 76 - ESSAY IX. 
 
 These diirereiit views, with regard to the settlement 
 of the crown, were accidental, but natural additions, to 
 the principles of the Court and Country parties, which 
 are the genuine divisions in the British government. 
 A passionate lover of monarchy is apt to be displeased j 
 at any change of the succession, as savouring too much j 
 
 IIcivc not the Tories always bore an avowcrl aflTeclioii to the family of 
 Sludrt, and liavc not tlieir adversaries ahfays opposed with vigour the 
 succession of tliat family? 
 
 The Tory principles are confessedly the most favourable to monarchy. 
 Yet the Tories Iiave almost always opposed the court these fifty years; 
 nor v.cre they cordial friends to King U'll/iavi, even when employed by 
 Iiini. Their quarrel, therefore, cannot be supposed to have lain with the 
 throne, but witli the person who sat on it. 
 
 They concurred heartily with the court during the four last years of 
 Queen ylnnc. But is any one at a loss to find the reason ? 
 
 The succession of the crown in the British government is a point of 
 too great consequence to be absolutely indifferent to persons who con- 
 cern themselves, in any degree, about the fortune of the public ; much 
 less can it be supposed that the Tory party, who never valued tliemselves 
 upon moderation, could maintain a stoical indifference in a point of so 
 great importance. Were they, therefore, zealous for the liouse of Hano- 
 Vir? or was tliere any thing that kept an opposite zeal from openly ap- 
 pearing, if it did not openly appear, but prudence, and a sense of de- 
 cency ? 
 
 It is monstrous to sec an established Episcopal clergy in declared op- 
 position to the court, and a non-confonnist Presbyterian clergy in con- 
 junction with it. W'liat can produce such an imnatural conduct in 
 botli? Nothing, but tliat the former liave espoused monarchical princi- 
 ples too high for tlie jiresent settlement, which is founded on the princi- 
 ples of liberty : And the latter, being afraid of (he prevalance of tliose 
 high princijiles, adhere to tliat party from whom tliey Iiave reason to ex- 
 pect liberty and toleration. 
 
 Tlie difierent conduct of the two parties, with regard to foreign poli- 
 tics, is also a proof to the same purpose. Holland has always been most 
 favoured by one, and Fniiiir by tlie otiiir. In short, the jiroofs of this 
 kind seem so palpable and evident, that it is almost needless to collect 
 them. 
 
 It is liowever remarkable, that though the (jrinciplcsof ir/iigami Tory
 
 THE PAirriEs of great Britain. TT 
 
 of a commonwealth : A passionate lover of liberty is 
 apt to think that every part of the jj^overnment ought 
 to be subordinate to the interests of liberty. 
 
 Some, who will not venture to assert that the real 
 difference between Whig and Tory was lost at the Re- 
 voluti(m, seem inclined to think, that the difference is 
 
 be both of them of a compound nature, yet the ingredients which predo- 
 minated in both were not correspondent to cacli other. A Tor;/ loved 
 monarchy, and bore an affection to the family of Stuart ,- but the latter 
 affection was tlie predominant inclination of the party. A Whig loved 
 liberty, and was a friend to the settlement in the Protestant line ; l)ut 
 the love of liberty was professedly his predominant inclination. The 
 Tories have fre<|uently acted as republicans, where eitlier policy or re- 
 venge has engaged them to that conduct ; and there was none of tlie 
 party who, upon the supposition that they were to be disa])pointed in 
 their views with regard to the succession, would not have desired to im- 
 pose the strictest limitations on the crown, and to bring our form of go- 
 vernment as near republican as possible, in order to depress the family, 
 that, according to their apprehension, succeeded without any just title. 
 The Whigs, it is true, liave also taken steps dangerous to liberty, under 
 pretext of securing the succession and settlement of the crown according 
 to their views ; but, as the body of the party had no passion for that suc- 
 cession, otherwise than as the means of securing liberty, they have been 
 betrayed into these steps by ignorance or frailty, or the interest of their 
 leaders. The succession of the crown was, therefore, the chief point 
 with the Tories ; the security of our liberties witli the Whigs. • 
 
 * In Editions D and N there follows a passage not found in A, C, 
 or O. 
 
 Nor is this seeming irregularity at all difficult to be accounted for by 
 our present theory. Court and country parties are the true parents of 
 Tory and Whig. But it is almost imiwssible that the attachment of the 
 court party to monarchy should not degenerate into an attachment to the 
 monarch, their being so close a connexion between them and the latter 
 being so much the more natural-object. How easily does the worsliip of 
 the Divinity degenerate into a worship of the idol ! The connexion is 
 not so great between liberty, the divinity of the old Country party or 
 Whigs, and any monarch or royal family; nor is it so reasonable to sup^ 
 pose, that in that party the woisliip can he so easily transferred from th« 
 one to the other, though even that would be no great miracle.
 
 '^^ ESSAY IX. 
 
 now abolished, and that aflairs are so far returned to 
 their natural state, that there are at present no other 
 parties anion<r us but Cotirt and Coimfry ,- that is, men 
 who, by interest or principle, are attached either to 
 monarchy or liberty. The Tories have been so long 
 obliged to talk in the republican style, that they seem 
 
 It is difficult to penetrate into the thoughts and sentiments of any 
 particular man ; but it is almost impossible to distinguish those of a 
 wliole party, ■where it often happens that no two persons agree precisely 
 in the same way of thinking. Yet I will venture to affirm, that it was 
 not so much principle, or an opinion of indefeasible right, that attached 
 the Tories to the ancient family, as affi.'ction, or a certain love and esteem 
 for tlieir persons. The same cause divided England formerly betwixt 
 tile houses of York and Lancaster, and Scotland betwixt the families of 
 Uruce and Baliol, in an age wlien political disputes were but little in 
 fiishion, and when political principles must of course have had but little 
 influence on mankind. The doctrine of passive obedience is so absurd 
 in itself, and so opposite to our liberties, that it seems to have been 
 chiefly left to pulpit declaimers, and to their deluded followers amono- 
 the mob. Men of better sense were guided by affection ; and as to the 
 leaders of this party, it is ))rol)ab]e tliat interest was their sole motive, 
 and that they acted more contrary to their private sentiments than the 
 leaders of the opposite party. 
 
 [Though it is almost impossible to maintain with zeal the right of any 
 perscn or family, without acquiring a good will to them, and changing 
 the principle into afluction, yet is this less natural to people of an elevat- 
 ed station and liberal education, who have had full opportunity of observ- 
 ing the weakness, folly, and arrogance of monarchs, and have found them 
 to be nothing superior, if not rather inferior to the rest of mankind. The 
 'nterest, therefore, of Iieing heads of a party, does often, with such people, 
 supply the place both of principle and aflfection.] • 
 
 Scjme who will not venture to assert, that the real diflference between 
 Wiiig and Tory, was lost at the Revolution, seem inclined to think that 
 the diflL-rencc is now abolished, and that alliiirsare so far returned to their 
 natural state, that there are at present no other parties amongst us but Court 
 and Country ; that is, men who, by interest or principle, are attached either 
 
 • The passage within brackets is not in editions A and C, but is found 
 in Dancl N. What follows is found in all the early editions, A, C, D. N,
 
 THE PARTIEisi OF GIIEAT BRITAIN. 79 
 
 to have made converts of themselves by their hypocri- 
 sy, and to have embraced the sentiments, as well as 
 language of their adversaries. There are, however, 
 very consiilerable remains of that party in England, 
 with all their old prejudices ; and a proof that Court 
 and Country are not our only parties, is, that almost all 
 
 to Monarchy or to Liberty. It must indeed be confessed, that the Tory- 
 party seem of late to have decayed much in their numbers, still more in 
 their zeal, and I may venture to say, still more in their credit and au- 
 thority. [There are few men of knowledge or learning, at least few phi- 
 losophers since Mr Locke has wrote, who would not be ashamed to be 
 thought of that party ; and in almost all companies, the name of Old 
 Whig is mentioned as an incontestable appellation of honour and digni- 
 ty. Accordingly, the enemies of the ministry, as a reproach, call the 
 courtiers the true Tories ; and, as an honour, denominate the gentlemen 
 in the Opposition the true Whigs.'] f The Tories have been so long oblig- 
 ed to talk in the republican style, that they seem to have made converts 
 of themselves by their hypocrisy, and to have embraced the sentiments as 
 well as language of their adversaries. There are, however, very consi- 
 derable remains of that party in England, with all their old prejudices ; 
 and a proof that Court and Country are not our only parties, is, that al- 
 most all our dissenters side with the Court, and the lower clergy, at least 
 of the Church of England, with the Opposition. This may convince us 
 that some bias still hangs upon our constitution, some extrinsic weight 
 which turns it from its uatural course, and causes a confusion in our 
 parties. 
 
 I shall conclude this subject with observing, that we never bad any 
 Tories in Scotland, according to the proper signification of the word, and 
 that the division of parties in this country was really into Whigs and 
 Jacobites. A Jacobite seems to be a Tory, vho has no regard to the 
 constitution, but is either a zealous partisan of absolute monarchy, or at 
 least willing to sacrifice our liberties to the obtaining the succession in that 
 family to which he is attached. The reason of the difference betwixt 
 England and Scotland I take to be this. Our political and religious di- 
 visions in this country have been, since the Revolution, regularly corre- 
 spondent to each other. The Presbyterians were all Whigs, without ei.. 
 
 I The passage within brackets is in editions A, C, D, not in N,
 
 80 ESSAY IX. 
 
 tlif dissenters side with the court, and the lower cler- 
 gVj at least of the church of Enghuid, with the opposi- 
 tion. This may convince us, that some bias still hangs 
 upon our constitution, some extrinsic weight, which 
 turns it from its natural course, and causes a confusion 
 in our parties. "* 
 
 ccptioii ; the Episcopalians of the opposite parly. And as tlie clergy of 
 tlie latter sect were turned out of tliuir churches at the Revolution, they 
 liad no motive to make any compliances with the government in their 
 oaths or forms of prayer, but openly avowed the higliest principles of 
 their party ; which is the cause why their followers have been more bare- 
 faced and violent than their brethren of the Tory party in England. 
 [As violent things have not commonly so long a duration as moderate, 
 we actually find that the Jacobite party is almost entirely vanished from 
 among us, and that the distinction of Court and Counti-y, which is but 
 creeping in at London, is the only one that is ever mentioned in this 
 kingdom. Beside the violence and openness of the Jacobite party, an- 
 otlier reason has perhaps contributed to produce so sudden and so visible 
 an alteration in this part of Britain. There are only two ranks of men 
 among us ; gentlemen who have some fortune and education, and the 
 meanest slaving poor ; without any considerable number of that middling 
 rank of men, which abounds more in England, both in cities and in the 
 country, than in any other part of the world. Tlie slaving poor are in- 
 capable of any principles : Gentlemen may be converted to true princi- 
 ples, by time and experience. The middling rank of men have curiosity 
 and knowledge enough to form principles, but not enough to form true 
 ones, or correct any prejudices that they may have imbibed : And it is 
 among the middling rank of people that Tory principles do at present 
 prevail most in lOngland.J * 
 
 * Some of the opinions delivered in these Essays, with regard to the 
 jjuhlic transactions in the last century, the Author, on more accurate 
 examination, found reason to retract in liis History of Great Britain, 
 And as lie would not enslave himself to the systems of either party, nei- 
 ther would lie fetter his jtulgnient by his own preconceived opinions and 
 principles ; nor is he ashamed to acknowledge his mistakes. These 
 juistakes were indeed, at that time, almost universal in this kingdom. 
 
 • Tlic passage wiiiiin brackets is found in A and C, not in D and N-
 
 OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 81 
 
 ESSAY X. 
 
 OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 
 
 That the corruption of the best of things j)^'oduces the 
 "worsts is grown into a maxim, and is commonly proved, 
 among other instances, by the pernicious effects of su- 
 perstition and enthusiasm^ the corruptions of true reli- 
 gion. 
 
 These two species of false religion, though both per- 
 nicious, are yet of a very different, and even of a con- 
 trary nature. The uiind of man is subject to certain 
 unaccountable terrors and apprehensions, proceeding 
 either from the unhappy situation of private or public 
 affairs, from ill health, from a gloomy and melancholy 
 disposition, or from the concurrence of all these cir- 
 cumstances. In such a state of mind, infinite unknown 
 evils are dreaded from unknown agents ; and where 
 real objects of terror are wanting, the soul, active to 
 its own prejudice, and fostering its predominant incli- 
 nation, finds imaginary ones, to whose power and ma- 
 levolence it sets no limits. As these enemies are en- 
 tirely invisible and unknown, the methods taken to ap- 
 pease them are equally unaccountable, and consist in 
 ceremonies, observances, mortifications, sacrifices, pre- 
 sents, or in any practice, however absurd or frivolous, 
 which either folly or knavery recommends to a blind 
 
 VOL. III. J
 
 82 ESSAY X. 
 
 and terrified credulity. Weakness, fear, melancholy, 
 together with ignorance, are, therefore, the true sources 
 of Superstition. 
 
 But the mind of man is also subject to an unaccount- 
 able elevation and presumption, arising from prosperous 
 success, from luxuriant health, from strong spirits, or 
 from a bold and confident disposition. In such a state 
 of mind, the imagination swells with great, but con- 
 fused conceptions, to which no sublunary beauties or 
 enjoyments can correspond. Every thing mortal and 
 perishable vanishes as unworthy of attention ; and a full 
 range is given to the fancy in the invisible regions, or 
 world of Spirits, where the soul is at liberty to indulge 
 itself in every imagination, which may best suit its 
 present taste and disposition. Hence arise raptures, 
 transports, and surprising flights of fancy ; and, confi- 
 dence and presumption still increasing, these raptures, 
 being altogether unaccountable, and seeming quite be- 
 yond the reach of our ordinary faculties, are attributed 
 to the immediate inspiration of that Divine Being who 
 is the object of devotion. In a little time, the inspired 
 person comes to regard himself as a distinguished fa- 
 vourite of the Divinity ; and when this phrenzy once 
 takes place, which is the summit of enthusiasm, every 
 whimsy is consecrated : Human reason, and even mo- 
 rality, are rejected as fallacious guides ; and the fanatic 
 madman delivers himself over, blindly and without re- 
 serve, to the supposed illapses of the Spirit, and to in- 
 spiration from above. — Hope, pride, presumption, a 
 warm imagination, together with ignorance, are there- 
 fore the true sources of Enthusiasm. 
 
 These two species of false religion might afford occa- 
 sion to many speculations ; but I shall confine myself, 
 at present, to a few reflections concerning their differ- 
 ent influence on government and society.
 
 OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 83 
 
 * ^ yiy first reflection is, that superstition is favourable 
 to -priestli) jwwer, and enthusiasm not less, or rather more 
 contrary to it, than sound reason and j)hilosophij. As 
 superstition is founded on fear, sorrow, and a depression 
 of spirits, it represents the man to himself in such des- 
 picable colours, that he appears unworthy, in his own 
 
 ' ^ My first reflection is, that religions which partake of enthusiasm 
 are, on their first rise, much more furious and violent than those which 
 partake of superstition ; but in a little time become much more gentle 
 and moderate. The violence of this species of religion, when excited by 
 novelty, and animated by opposition, appears from numberless instances ; 
 O^ i\\(i Anabaptists m. Gcimiany, the CamLwrs in France, the Levellers, 
 and other fanatics in England, and the Covenanters in Scotland. As 
 enthusiasm is founded on strong spirits and a presumptuous boldness of 
 character, it naturally begets the most extreme resolutions ; especially 
 after it rises to that height as to inspire the deluded fanatics with the 
 opinion of Divine illuminations, and with a contempt of the common 
 rules of reason, morality, and prudence. 
 
 It is thus enthusiasm produces the most cruel desolation in human 
 society: But its fury is like that of thunder and tempest, which exhaust 
 themselves in a little time, and leave the air more calm and serene than 
 before. The reason of this will appear evidently, by comparing enthusiasm 
 to superstition, the other species of false religion, and tracing the natu- 
 ral consequences of each. As superstition is founded on fear, sorrow, 
 and a depression of spirits, it represents the person to himself in such 
 despicable colours, that he appears unworthy, in his own eyes, of ap- 
 proaching the Divine presence, and naturally has recourse to any other 
 person whose sanctity of life, or perhaps impudence and cunning, have 
 made him be supposed to be more favoured by the Divinity. To him 
 they entrust their devotions : to his care they recommend their prayers, 
 petitions and sacrifices : and by his means hope to render their ad- 
 dresses acceptable to tlieir incensed Deity. Hence the origin of Priests,* 
 
 * By priests, I understand only the pretenders to power and domi- 
 nion, and to a superior sanctity of character, distinct from virtue and 
 good morals. These are very different from clergymen, who are set 
 apart to the care of sacred matters, and the conducting our public devo- 
 tions with greater decency and order. There is no rank of men more 
 to be respected than the latter. 
 
 f2
 
 84 ESSAY X. 
 
 eyes, ofapproacliinir tlie Divine presence, and naturally 
 has recourse to any other person, wliose sanctity of 
 life, or perhaps impudence and cunning, have made 
 him be sujiposed more favoured by the Divinity. To 
 him the superstitious entrust their devotions ; to his 
 care they recommend their prayers, petitions, and 
 
 who may justly be regarded as proceeding from one of the grossest in- 
 ventions of a timorous and abject superstition, wliich, ever diffident of 
 itself, dares not offer up its own. devotions, but ignorantly thinks to re- 
 commend itself to the Divinity by the mediation of his supposed friends 
 and servants. As superstition is a cnansidcrable ingredient of almost all 
 religions, even the most fanatical, there being nothing but pliilosophy 
 able to conquer entirely these unaccountable terrors ; hence it proceeds, 
 that in almost every sect of religion there are priests to be found. But 
 the stronger mixture tliere is of superstition, the higher is the authority of 
 the priesthood. Modern Judaism and Popery, especially the latter, 
 being the most barbarous and absurd superstitions that have yet beea 
 known in the world, arc the most enslaved by tlieir priests. As the 
 church of England has a strong mixture of Popish superstition, it par- 
 takes also, in its original constitution, of a propensity to priestly power 
 and dominion, particularly in the respect it exacts to the priest. And 
 though, according to the sentiments of that church, the prayers of the 
 priest must be accomj)anied with those of the laity, yet is he the mouth 
 of the congregation ; his person is sacred, and without his presence few 
 would think their public devotions, or the sacraments and other rites, 
 acceptable to the Divinity. 
 
 On the otiiir liand, it may be observed, that all enthusiasts have been 
 free from the yoke of Ecclesiastics, and Iiave expressed a great indepen- 
 dence in their devotion ; with a contempt of forms, traditions, and au- 
 thorities. The QtaihcTS are tl>e most egregious, though at the same time 
 the most innocent enthusiasts that liave been yet known ; and are, per- 
 haps, tlie only sect iliat liave never admitted priests amongst them. The 
 Indepcndcnls, of all the English sectaries, approach nearest to the Quakers 
 in fanaticism, and in their freedom from priestly bondage. The Vresbi/- 
 terians follow after at an equal distance in both these particulars. In 
 short, this observation is founded on the most certain experience ; and 
 will also appear to be founded on reason, if we consider, that as enthu- 
 siasm arises from a pre^^uinptuous pride and confidence, it thinks itself 
 sufficiently qualified to iijijiruuch the Divinity without any human media- 
 tor. Its rapturous devotions are so fervent, that it even imagines itself
 
 OF SUPERSTITION AND EXTII USIASM. 85 
 
 sacrifices: and by his means, they hope to render 
 their addresses acceptable to their incensed Deity. 
 Hence the origin of Priests, who may justly be re- 
 garded as an invention of a timorous and abject super- 
 stition, which, ever diffident of itself, dares not offer 
 up its own devotions, but ignorantly thinks to recom- 
 mend itself to the Divinity, by the mediation of his 
 supposed friends and servants. As superstition is a 
 considerable ingredient in almost all religions, even 
 the most fanatical ; there being nothing but philosophy 
 able entirel}' to conquer these unaccountable terrors ; 
 hence it proceeds, that in almost every sect of religion 
 
 actually to approach him by the way of contemplation and inward con- 
 verse, — which makes it neglect all those outward ceremonies and observ- 
 ances, to which the assistance of the priest appears so requisite in the 
 eyes of their superstitious votaries. The fanatic consecrates himself, and 
 bestows on his own person a sacred character, much superior to what 
 forms and ceremonious institutions can confer on any other. 
 
 It is therefore an infallible rule that superstition is favourable to priest- 
 ly power, and enthusiasm as much, or rather more, contrary to it, than 
 sound reason and philosophy. The consequences are evident. When 
 tlie first fire of enthusiasm is spent, man naturally, in such fanatical 
 sects, sinks into the greatest remissness and coolness in sacred matters; 
 there being no body of men amongst them endowed with sufficient au- 
 thority, whose interest is concerned, to support the religious spirit. Su- 
 perstition, on the contrary, steals in gradually and insensibly; renders 
 men tame and submissive ; is acceptable to the magistrate, and seems in- 
 offensive to the people : till at last the priest, having firmly established 
 his authority, becomes the tyrant and disturber of human society, by his 
 endless contentions, persecutions, and religious wars. How smoothly 
 did the BomUh church advance in their acquisition of power ! But into 
 wliat dismal convulsions did they throw all Europe, in order to maintain 
 it ! On the other hand, our sectaries, who were formerly such dangerous 
 bigots, are now become our greatest freetliinkcrs ; and the Quakers are 
 perhaps the only regular body of Deists in the universe, except the lite- 
 rati, or disciples of Confucius in China. 
 
 My second observation with regard to these species of false religion is, 
 that superstition is an enemy to civil liberty, and enthusiasm a friend ly 
 it, &.C. — Editioks a and C.
 
 86 ESSAY X. 
 
 there are priests to be found : But the stronger mixture 
 there is of superstition, the higher is the avithority of 
 the priesthood. 
 
 On the other hand, it may be observed, that all en- 
 thusiasts have been free from the yoke of ecclesiastics, 
 and have expressed great independence in their devo- 
 tion, with a contempt of forms, ceremonies, and tradi- 
 tions. The Qiiakers are the most egregious, though, 
 at the same time, the most innocent enthusiasts that 
 have yet been known ; and are perhaps the only sect 
 that have never admitted priests among them. The 
 Independents^ of all the English sectaries, approach 
 nearest to the Qjtuikcrs in fanaticism, and in their free- 
 dom from priestly bondage. The Preshijterians follow 
 after, at an equal distance, in both particulars. In 
 short, this observation is founded in experience ; and 
 will also appear to be founded in reason, if we consi- 
 der, that, as enthusiasm arises from a presumptuous 
 pride and confidence, it thinks itself sufficiently quali- 
 fied to ajjproach the Divinity, without any human me- 
 diator. Its rapturous devotions are so fervent, that it 
 even imagines itself actually to approach him by the 
 way of contemjjlation and inward converse ; which 
 makes it neglect all those outward ceremonies and ob- 
 servances, to which the assistance of the priests appears 
 so re(juisite in the eyes of their superstitious votaries. 
 The fanatic consecrates himself, and iK'stows on his 
 own person a sacred character, much superior to what 
 forms and ceremonious institutions can confer on any 
 other. 
 
 My second reflection with regard to these species of 
 false religion is, that religio?is "jchich partake of enthu- 
 siasm are, on their first rise, m;re furious and violent 
 than those -jchich partake of superstition ; hut in a little
 
 OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 87 
 
 time become more gentle and moderate. The violence of 
 this species of religion, when excited by novelty, and 
 animated by opposition, appears from numberless in- 
 stances ; of the Anabaptists in Germany, the Caviisars 
 in France, the Levellers^ and other fanatics in England, 
 and the Covenanters in Scotland. Enthusiasm being 
 founded on strong spirits, and a presumptuous boldness 
 of character, it naturally begets the most extreme re- 
 solutions ; especially after it rises to that height as to 
 inspire the deluded fanatic with the opinion of Divine 
 illuminations, and with a contempt for the common 
 rules of reason, morality, and prudence. 
 
 It is thus enthusiasm produces the most cruel dis- 
 orders in human society ; but its fury is like that of 
 thunder and tempest, which exhaust themselves in a little 
 time, and leave the air more calm and serene than be- 
 fore. When the first fire of enthusiasm is spent, men 
 naturally, in all fanatical sects, sink into the greatest 
 remissness and coolness in sacred matters ; there being 
 no body of men among them endowed with sufficient 
 authority, whose interest is concerned to support the 
 religious spirit ; no rites, no ceremonies, no holy ob - 
 servances, which may enter into the common train of 
 life, and preserve the sacred principles from oblivion. 
 Superstition, on the contrary, steals in gradually and 
 insensibly; renders men tame and submissive; is ac- 
 ceptable to the magistrate, and seems inoffensive to the 
 people : till at last the priest, having firmly establish- 
 ed his authority, becomes the tyrant and disturber of 
 human society, by his endless contentions, persecu- 
 tions, and religious wars. How smoothly did the Ro- 
 mish church advance in her acquisition of power ! But 
 into what dismal convulsions did she throw all Europe, 
 in order to maintain it ! On the other hand, our sect-
 
 88 ESSAY X. 
 
 aries, who were formerly such dangerous bigots, are 
 now become very free reasoners; and tlie Quakers seem 
 to approach nearly the only regular body of Deists in 
 the universe, the liicrali, or the disciples of Confucius 
 in China. " 
 
 My t/u'rd observation on this head is, t/iai supcvsti-' 
 lion is an cnemxj to civil liberty^ and enthusiasm a friend 
 to it. As superstition groans under the dominion of 
 priests, and enthusiasm is destructive of all ecclesiasti- 
 cal power, this sulliciently accounts for the present ob- 
 servation. Not to mention that enthusiasm, beinn; the 
 infirmity of bold and ambitious tempers, is naturally 
 accompanied with a spirit of liberty ; as superstition, 
 on the contrary, renders men tame and abject, and fits 
 them for slavery. We learn from English history, 
 that, during the civil wars, the Independents and Deists^ 
 tliough the most opposite in their religious principles, 
 yet were united in their political ones, and were alike 
 passionate for a commonwealth. And since the origin 
 of Whig and Tory, the leaders of the Whigs have either 
 been Deists or professed Latiiudinarians in their prin- 
 ciples ; that is, friends to toleration, and indifferent to 
 any particular sect of Christians : \\'hile the sectaries, 
 who have all a strong tincture of enthusiasm, have al- 
 ways, without exception, concurred with that party in 
 defence of civil liberty. The resemblance in their su- 
 perstitions long united the High-Church Tories and 
 the Roman Catholics;, in support of prerogative and 
 kingly power; though experience of the tolerating spirit 
 of the /r///g5 seems of late to have reconciled the Ca- 
 tholics to that party. 
 
 The Molinists and Jansenists in Fiance have a thou^- 
 
 Tht Cliincsp lilfrati Jmve no priests or ecclesiastical oslaljlishmcnf.
 
 OF SUPERSTITION AND ENTHUSIASM. 89 
 
 sand unintelligible disputes, which are not worthy the 
 reflection of a man of sense : But what principally dis- 
 tinguishes these two sects, and alone merits attention, 
 is the diiferent spirit of their religion. The Molinists, 
 conducted by the Jesuits, are great friends to supersti- 
 tion, rigid observers of external forms and ceremonies, 
 and devoted to the authority of the priests, and to tra- 
 dition. The Janscnists are enthusiasts, and zealous 
 promoters of the passionate devotion, and of the in- 
 ward life ; little influenced by authority ; and, in a word, 
 but half Catholics. The consequences ai'e exactly con- 
 formable to the forefjoiufr reasonino;. The Jesuits are 
 the tyrants of the people, and the slaves of the court : 
 And the Jansenists preserve alive the small sparks of the 
 love of liberty which are to be found in the French nation.
 
 90 ESSAY XI. 
 
 / 
 
 ESSAY XI. 
 
 OF THE DIGNllTf OK MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 There are certain sects which secretly form them- 
 selves in the learned world, as well as factions in the 
 pohtical ; and though sometimes they come not to an 
 open rupture, they give a different turn to the ways of 
 thinking of those who have taken part on either side. 
 The most remarkable of this kind are the sects found- 
 ed on the different sentiments with regard to the dig- 
 nity of Imman nahire ; which is a point that seems to 
 have divided philosophers and poets, as well as di- 
 vines, from the beginning of the world to this day. 
 Some exalt our species to the skies, and represent 
 man as a kind of human demigod, who derives his ori- 
 gin from heaven, and retains evident marks of his li- 
 neage and descent. Others insist upon the blind sides 
 of human nature, and can discover nothing, except va- 
 nity, in which man surpasses the other animals, whom 
 lie affects so much to despise. If an author possess 
 the talent of rhetoric and declamation, he commonly 
 takes part with the former: If his turn lie towards 
 irony and ridicule, he naturally throws himself into the 
 other extreme. 
 
 I am far from thiukiug that all those who have de- 
 preciated our species have been enemies to virtue, and
 
 DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 91 
 
 have exposed the frailties of their fellow- creatures with 
 any bad intention. On the contrary, I am sensible 
 that a delicate sense of morals, especially when attend- 
 ed with a splenetic temper, is apt to give a man a dis- 
 gust of the world, and to make him consider the com- 
 mon course of human affairs with too much mdigna- 
 tion. I must, however, be of opinion, that the senti- 
 ments of those who are inclined to think favourably of 
 mankind, are more advantageous to virtue than the 
 contrary principles, which give us a mean opinion of 
 our nature. When a man is prepossessed with a high 
 notion of his rank and character in the creation, he 
 will naturally endeavour to act up to it, and will scorn 
 to do a base or vicious action which might sink him 
 below that figure which he makes in his own imagina- 
 tion. Accordingly we find, that all our polite and fa- 
 shionable moralists insist upon this topic, and endea- 
 vour to represent vice unworthy of man, as well as 
 odious in itself. "• 
 
 We find few disputes that are not founded on some 
 ambiguity in the expression ; and I am persuaded that 
 the present dispute, concerning the dignity or mean- 
 ness of human nature, is not more exempt from it than 
 any other. It may therefore be worth while to consi- 
 der what is real, and what is only verbal, in this con- 
 troversy. 
 
 That there is a natural difference between merit and 
 demerit, virtue and vice, wisdom and folly, no reason- 
 able man will deny : Yet it is evident that, in affixing 
 the term, which denotes either our approbation or 
 
 • 9 Women are generally nuicli more flattered in tlieir youtli than men, 
 which may proceed from this reason among others, that their chief point 
 of honour is considered as much more difficult than ours, and requires 
 to be supported by all that decent pride which can be instilled into tliera. 
 Editions A, C, D & N.
 
 92 ESSAY XI. 
 
 blame, we are commonly more influenced by compari- 
 son than by any fixed unalterable standard in the na- 
 ture of things. In like manner, quantity, and exten- 
 sion, and bulk, are by every one acknowledged to be 
 real things : But when we call any animal great or lit- 
 tle^ we always form a secret comparison between that 
 animal and others of the same species ; and it is that 
 comparison which regulates our judgment concerning 
 its greatness. A dog and a horse may be of the very 
 same size, while the one is admired for the greatness 
 of its bulk, and the other for the smallness. When I 
 am present, therefore, at any dispute, I always consi- 
 der with myself whether it be a question of compari- 
 son or not that is the subject of controversy ; and if it 
 be, whether the disputants compare the same objects 
 together, or talk of things that are widely diiferent. 
 
 In forming our notions of human nature, we are apt 
 to make a comparison between men and animals, the 
 only creatures endowed with thought that fall under 
 our senses. Certainly this comparison is favourable 
 to mankind. On the one hand, we see a creature 
 whose thoughts are not limited by any narrow bounds, 
 either of place or time ; who carries his researches in- 
 to the most distant regions of this globe, and beyond 
 this globe, to the planets and heavenly bodies ; looks 
 backward to consider the first origin, at least the his- 
 tory of the human race; casts his eye forward to see 
 the influence of his actions upon posterity, and the 
 judgments which will be formed of his character a 
 thousand years hence ; a creature, who traces causes 
 and eflects to a great length and intricacy ; extracts 
 general principles from particular appearances ; im- 
 proves ujjon ills discoveries; corrects his mistakes; 
 aJid makes his very crroi.s profltablc. On the other
 
 DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 93 
 
 luiiid, we are presented with a creature the very re- 
 verse of this ; limited in its observ^ations and reason- 
 ings to a few sensible objects which surround it; witli- 
 out curiosity, without foresight ; blindly conducted by 
 instinct, and attaining, in a short time, its utmost per- 
 fection, beyond which it is never able to advance a 
 single step. What a wide difference is there between 
 these creatures ! And how exalted a notion must we 
 entertain of the former, in comparison of the latter ! 
 
 There are two means commonly employed to destroy 
 this conclusion : First, By making an unfair represen- 
 tation of the case, and insisting only upon the weakness 
 of human nature. And, secondhj, By forming a new 
 and secret comparison between man and beings of the 
 most perfect wisdom. Among the other excellences 
 of man, this is one, that he can form an idea of perfec- 
 tions much beyond what he has experience of in him- 
 self; and is not limited in his conception of wisdom 
 and virtue. He can easily exalt his notions, and con- 
 ceive a degree of knowledge, which, when compared to 
 his own, will make the latter appear very contemptible, 
 and will cause the difference between that and the sa- 
 gacity of animals, in a manner, to disappear and va- 
 nish. Now this being a point in which all the world 
 is agreed, that human understanding falls infinitely 
 short of perfect wisdom, it is proper we should know 
 when this comparison takes place, that we may not dis- 
 pute where there is no real difference in our sentiments. 
 Man falls much more short of perfect wisdom, and even 
 of his own ideas of perfect wisdom, than animals do of 
 man ; yet the latter difference is so considerable, that 
 nothing but a comparison with the former can make it 
 appear of little moment. 
 
 It is also usual to comjmrc one man with another ;
 
 94 ESSAY XI. 
 
 and fiiKlino- very few whom wc can call "joise or virtuous. 
 we are apt to entertain a contemptible notion of our 
 species in general. That we may be sensible of the 
 fallacy of this way of reasoning, we may observe, that 
 the honourable appellations of wise and virtuous are 
 not annexed to any particular degree of those qualities 
 of wisihm and virtue, but arise altogether from the 
 comparison we nuike between one man and another. 
 When we find a man who arrives at such a pitch of 
 wisdom as is very uncommon, we pronounce him a 
 wise man : So that to say there are few wise men in 
 the world, is really to say nothing ; since it is only by 
 
 /- their scarcity that they merit that appellation. Were 
 the lowest of our species as wise as TuUy or Lord Ba- 
 con, we should still have reason to say that there are 
 few wise men. For in that case we should exalt our 
 notions of wisdom, and should not pay a singular ho- 
 
 j. nour to any one who was not singularly distinguished 
 by his talents. In like manner, I have heard it ob- 
 served by thoughtless people, that there are few women 
 possessed of beauty in comparison of those who want 
 it; not considering that we bestow the epithet o^ beau- 
 tiful only on such as possess a degree of beauty that is 
 common to them with a few. The same degree of 
 beauty in a woman is called deformity, which is treated 
 as real beauty in one of our sex. 
 
 As it is usual, in forming a notion of our species, to 
 compare it with the other species above or below it, or 
 to compare the individuals of the species among them- 
 selves ; so we often compare together the different mo- 
 tives or actuating principles of human nature, in order 
 to regulate our judgment concerning it. And, indeed, 
 this is the only kind of comparison which is worth our 
 attention, or decides any tiling in the present question.
 
 DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 95 
 
 Were our selfish and vicious principles so much pre- 
 dominant above our social and virlnous, as is asserted 
 by some philosophers, we ought undoubtedly to enter- 
 tain a contemptible notion of human nature. ^ " 
 
 There is much of a dispute of words in all this con- 
 troversy. * ' When a man denies the sincerity of all 
 public spirit or affection to a country and community, 
 I am at a loss what to think of him. Perhaps he never 
 felt this passion in so clear and distinct a manner as to 
 remove all his doubts concerning its force and reality. 
 But when he proceeds afterwards to reject all private 
 fi'icndship, if no interest or self-love intermix itself; I 
 am then confident that he abuses terms, and confounds 
 the ideas of things ; since it is impossible for any one 
 to be so selfish, or rather so stupid, as to make no dif- 
 ference between one man and another, and give no pre- 
 ference to qualities which engage his approbation and 
 esteem. Is he also, say I, as insensible to anger as he 
 pretends to be to friendship? And does injury and wrong 
 no more affect him than kindness or benefits ? Impos- 
 sible : He does not know himself: He has forgotten 
 the movements of his heart ; or rather, he makes use 
 of a different language from the rest of his country- 
 men, and calls not things by their proper names. What 
 say you of natural affection? (I subjoin), Is that also 
 
 I o I may perhaps treat more fully of this subject in some future Es- 
 say. In the mean time I shall observe, what has been proved beyond 
 question by several great moralists of the present age, that the social 
 passions are by far the most powerful of any, and that even all the other 
 passions receive from them their chief force and influence. Wlioever 
 desires to see this question treated at large, with the greatest force of ar- 
 gument and eloquence, may consult my Lord Shaftsbury's Enquiry con- 
 cerning Virtue. — Editions A, C, D, N. 
 
 * ' This passage is not in tlie early editions. It is found in Edi- 
 tion N.
 
 !3C ESSAY XI. 
 
 a species of self-love ? Yes ; all is self-love. Your 
 children are loved only because they are yours : Your 
 friend for a like reason: And 7/our country engages 
 you only so far as it has a connexion with yourself': 
 Were the idea of self removed, nothing would affect 
 you : You would be altogether unactive and insensible: 
 Or, if you ever give yourself any movement, it would 
 only be from vanity, and a desire of fame and reputa- 
 tion to this same self. I am willing, reply I, to receive 
 your interpretation of human actions, provided you 
 admit the facts. That species of self-love which dis- 
 plays itself in kindness to others, you must allow to 
 have great influence over human actions, and even 
 greater, on many occasions, than that which remains 
 in its original shape and form. For how few are there, 
 having a family, children, and relations, who do not 
 spend more on the maintenance and education of these 
 than on their own pleasures ? This, indeed, you justly 
 observe, may proceed from their self-love, since the 
 prosperity of their family and friends is one, or the 
 chief, of their pleasures, as well as their chief honour. 
 Be you also one of these selfish men, and you are sure 
 of every one's good opinion and good will ; or, not to 
 shock your ears with these expressions, the self-love of 
 every one, and mine among the rest, will then, incline 
 us to serve you, and speak well of you. 
 
 In my opinion, there are two things which have led 
 astray those philosophers that have insisted so much 
 on the selfishness of man. In ihejirsi place, they found 
 that every act of virtue or friendship was attended with 
 a secret pleasure; whence they concluded, that friend- 
 ship and virtue could not be disinterested. But the 
 fallacy of this is obvious. The virtuous sentiment or 
 passion produces the pleasure, and doe^ not arise from
 
 DIGNITY OR MEANNESS OF HUMAN NATURE. 97 
 
 it. I feel a pleasure in doing good to my friend^ be- 
 cause I love him ; but do not love him for the sake of 
 that pleasure. 
 
 In the second place, it has always, been found, that 
 the virtuous are far from being indifferent to praise ; 
 and therefore they have been represented as a set of 
 vain-glorious men, who had nothing in view but the ap- 
 plauses of others. But this also is a fallacy. It is very 
 unjust in the world, when they find any tincture of 
 faulty in a laudable action, to depreciate it upon that 
 account, or ascribe it entirely to that motive. The 
 case is not the same with vanity, as with other passions. 
 Where avarice or revenge enters into any seemingly 
 virtuous action, it is difficult for us to determine how 
 far it enters, and it is natural to suppose it the sole ac- 
 tuating principle. But vanity is so closely allied to 
 virtue, and to love the fame of laudable actions ap- 
 proaches so near the love of laudable actions for their 
 own sake, that these passions are more capable of mix- 
 ture, than any other kinds of affection; and it is almost 
 impossible to have the latter •without some degree of 
 the former. Accordingly we find, that this passion for 
 glory is always warped and varied according to the 
 particular taste or disposition of the mind on which it 
 falls. Nero had the same vanity in driving a chariot, 
 that Trajan had in governing the empire with justice 
 and ability. To love the glory of virtuous deeds is a 
 sure proof of the love of virtue. 
 
 VOL. ITT. G
 
 98 ESSAY xir. 
 
 ESSAY XII. 
 
 OF CIVIL LIBERTY. ^^ 
 
 Those who employ their pens on pohtical subjects, 
 free from party-rage, and part3'-prejudices, cultivate a 
 science, which, of all others, contributes most to pub- 
 lic utility, and even to the private satisfaction of those 
 who addict themselves to the study of it. I am apt, 
 however, to entertain a suspicion, that the world is still 
 too young to fix many general truths in politics, which 
 will remain true to the latest posterity. We have not 
 as yet had experience of three thousand years ; so that 
 not only the art of reasoning is still imperfect in this 
 science, as in all others, but we even want sufficient 
 materials upon which we can reason. It is not fully 
 known what degree of refinement, either in virtue or 
 vice, human nature is susceptible of, nor what may be 
 expected of mankind from any great revolution in their 
 education, customs or principles. Machiavel was cer- 
 tainly a great genius ; but, having confined his study to 
 the furious and tyrannical governments of ancient times, 
 or to the little disorderly principalities of Italy, his rea- 
 sonings, especially u])on monarchical government, have 
 
 i » In Editions A, C, and D, this Essay is entitled, ' Of Liberty and 
 Despotism, '
 
 OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 99 
 
 been found extremely defective ; and tliere scarcely is 
 any maxim in his Prince which subsequent experience 
 has not entirely refuted. ' A weak prince, ' says he, 
 ' is incapable of receiving good counsel ; for, if he con- 
 sult with several, he will not be able to choose among 
 their different counsels. If he abandon himself to one, 
 that minister may perhaps have capacity, but he will 
 not long be a minister. He will be sure to dispossess 
 his master, and place himself and his family upon the 
 throne. ' I mention this, among many instances of the 
 errors of that politician, proceeding, in a great mea- 
 sure, from his having lived in too early an age of the 
 world, to be a good judge of political truth. Almost 
 all the princes of Europe are at present governed by 
 their ministers, and have been so for near two centu- 
 ries J and yet no such event has ever happened, or can 
 possibly happen. Sejanus might project dethroning 
 the Cassars, but Fleury, though ever so vicious, could 
 not, while in his senses, entertain the least hopes of 
 dispossessing the Bourbons. 
 
 Trade was never esteemed an affair of state till the 
 last century ; and there scarcely is any ancient writer 
 on politics who has made mention of it. "" Even the 
 Italians have kept a profound silence with regard to it, 
 though it has now engaged the chief attention, as well 
 of ministers of state, as of speculative reasoners. The 
 great opulence, grandeur, and military achievements of 
 the two maritime powers, seem first to have instructed 
 mankind in the importance of an extensive commerce. 
 
 Having therefore intended, in this Essay, to make a 
 full comparison of civil liberty and absolute government, 
 
 " Xenophon mentions it, but with a doubt if it be of any advantage 
 to a state. Ei tTt xai £/*jropi'a ofixu rt TToKiv, &c. Xen. Hiero. — Plato 
 totally excludes it from his imaginary republic. De Legibus, lib. iv. 
 
 g2
 
 100 ESSAY XII. 
 
 and to sliow the great advantages of the former above 
 the latter ; ^ ' I began to entertain a suspicion that no 
 man in this age was sufficiently qualified for such an 
 undertaking, and that, whatever any one should ad- 
 vance on that head, would in all probability be refuted 
 by further experience, and be rejected by posterity. 
 Such mighty revolutions have happened in human af- 
 fairs, and so many events have arisen contrary to the 
 expectation of the ancients, that they are sufficient to 
 beget the suspicion of still further changes. 
 
 It had been observed by the ancients, that all the 
 arts and sciences arose among free nations ; and that 
 the Persians and Egyptians, notwithstanding their ease, 
 opulence, and luxury, made but faint efforts towards a 
 relish in those finer pleasures, which were carried to 
 such perfection by the Greeks, amidst continual wars, 
 attended with poverty, and the greatest simplicity of 
 life and manners. It had also been observed, that, 
 when the Greeks lost their liberty, though they in- 
 creased mightily in riches by means of the conquests 
 of Alexander, yet the arts, from that moment, declined 
 among them, and have never since been able to raise 
 their head in that climate. Learning was transplanted 
 to Rome, the only free nation at that time in the uni- 
 verse ; and having met with so favourable a soil, it made 
 prodigious shoots for above a century ; till the decay of 
 liberty produced also the decay of letters, and spread a 
 total barbarism over the world. From these two ex- 
 periments, of which each was double in its kind, and 
 showed the fall of learning in absolute governments, as 
 well as its rise in popular ones, Longinus thought him- 
 
 1 3 « The ac'.vantages and disadvantages of cacli.' — Editions A, C, D.
 
 OF CIVIL LIBERTY. lOl 
 
 self sufficiently justified in asserting, that the arts and 
 sciences could never flourish but in a free government : 
 And in this opinion he has been followed by several 
 eminent writers "" in our own country, who either con- 
 fined their view merely to ancient facts, or entertained 
 too great a partiality in favour of that form of govern- 
 ment established among us. 
 
 But what would these writers have said to the in- 
 stances of modern Rome and Florence ? Of which the 
 former carried to perfection all the finer arts of sculp- 
 ture, painting, and music, as well as poetry, though it 
 groaned under tyranny, and under the tyranny of 
 priests : While the latter made its chief progress iu 
 the arts and sciences after it began to lose its liberty 
 by the usurpation of the family of Medici. Ariosto, 
 Tasso, Galileo, no more than Raphael or Michael 
 Angelo, were not born in republics. And though the 
 Lombard school was famous as well as the Roman, yet 
 the Venetians have had the smallest share in its ho- 
 nours, and seem rather inferior to the other Italians in 
 their genius for the arts and sciences. Rubens esta- 
 blished his school at Antwerp, not at Amsterdam. 
 Dresden, not Hamburgh, is the centre of politeness in 
 Germany. 
 
 But the most eminent instance of the flourishing of 
 learning in absolute governments is that of France, 
 v^'hich scarcely ever enjoyed any established liberty, 
 and yet has carried the arts and sciences as near per- 
 fection as any other nation. The English are, per- 
 haps, greater philosophers ; ^ '^ the Italians better paint- 
 ers and musicians ; the Romans were greater orators : 
 But the French are the only people, except the Greeks, 
 
 ^ Mr Addison and Lord Shaftesbury. 
 
 »4 (N. B. This was published in 1712. '— EmiioN N,
 
 102 ESSAY XII. 
 
 who have been at once pliilosophers, poets, orators, 
 liistorians, painters, architects, sculptors, and musi- 
 cians. M^ith regard to the stage, they have excelled 
 even the Greeks, who far excelled the English. And, 
 in common life, they have, in a great measure, perfect- 
 ed that art, the most useful and agreeable of any, VArt 
 de FiiTCy the art of society and conversation. 
 
 If we consider the state of the sciences and polite 
 arts in our own country, Horace's observation, with 
 regard to the Romans, may in a great measure be ap- 
 plied to the British. 
 
 Set! in longum tamen aevum 
 
 Manserunt, hodieque manent vestigia ruris. 
 
 The elegance and jiropriety of style have been very 
 much neglected among us. We have no dictionary of 
 our language, and scarcely a tolerable grammar. The 
 first polite prose we have was writ by a man who is 
 still alive. * As to Sprat, Locke, and even Temple, 
 they knew too little of the rules of art to be esteemed 
 elegant writers. The prose of Bacon, Harrington, and 
 Milton, is altogether stiff and pedantic, though their 
 sense be excellent. Men, in this country, have been 
 so much occupied in the great disputes of Religion, 
 Politics, and Philosophy, that they had no relish for 
 the seemingly minute observations of grammar and 
 criticism. And, though this turn of thinking must 
 have considerably improved our sense and our talent 
 of reasoning, it must be confessed, that even in those 
 sciences above mentioned, we have not any standard 
 book which we can transmit to posterity: And the ut- 
 most we have to boast of, are a few essays towards a 
 more just philosophy, which indeed promise well, but 
 liave not as yet reached any degree of perfection. 
 
 ' Dr Swift.
 
 OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 103 
 
 It has become an established opinion, that commerce 
 can never flourish but in a free government ; and this 
 opinion seems to be founded on a longer and larger 
 experience than the foregoing, with regard to the arts 
 and sciences. If we trace commerce in its progress 
 through Tyre, Athens, Syracuse, Carthage, Venice, 
 Florence, Genoa, Antwerp, Holland, England, &c. we 
 shall always find it to have fixed its seat in free go- 
 vernments. The three greatest trading towns now in 
 Europe, are London, Amsterdam, and Hamburgh ; all 
 free cities, and Protestant cities; that is, enjoying a 
 double liberty. It must, however, be observed, that 
 the great jealousy entertained of late with regard to the 
 commerce of France, seems to prove that this maxim 
 is no more certain and infallible than the foregoing, 
 and that the subjects of an absolute prince may become 
 our rivals in commerce as well as in learning. 
 
 Durst I deliver my opinion in an affair of so much 
 uncertainty, I would assert, that notwithstanding the 
 efforts of the French, there is something hurtful to com- 
 merce inherent in the very nature of absolute govern- 
 ment, and inseparable from it; though the reason I 
 should assign for this opinion is somewhat different from 
 that which is commonly insisted on. Private property 
 seems to me almost as secure in a civilized European 
 monarchy as in a republic ; nor is danger much appre- 
 hended, in such a government, from the violence of the 
 sovereign, more than we commonly dread harm from 
 thunder, or earthquakes, or any accident the most un- 
 usual and extraordinary. Avarice, the spur of indus- 
 try, is so obstinate a passion, and works its way through 
 so many real dangers and difficulties, that it is not like- 
 ly to be scared by an imaginary danger, which is so 
 small, that it scarcely admits of calculation. Commerce,
 
 lOi ESSAY XI I. 
 
 therefore, in my opinion, is apt to decay in absolute 
 governments, not because it is there less secure, but be- 
 cause it is less honourable. A subordination of rank is 
 absolutely necessary to the support of monarchy. Birth, 
 titles and place, must be honoured above industry and 
 riches ; and while these notions prevail, all the consi^ 
 derable traders will be tempted to throw up their 
 commerce, in order to purchase some of those env 
 ployments, to which privileges and honours are an- 
 nexed. 
 
 Since I am upon this head, of the alterations which 
 time has produced, or may produce in politics, I must 
 observe, that all kinds of government, free and abso- 
 lute, seem to have undergone, in modern times, a great 
 change for the better, with regard both to foreign and 
 domestic management. The balance of j:)ower is a se- 
 cret in politics, fully known only to the present age ; 
 and I must add, that the internal police of states has 
 also received great improvements within the last cen- 
 tury. We are informed by Sallust, that Catiline's army 
 was much augmented by the accession of the highway- 
 men about Rome ; though I believe, that all of that 
 profession who are at present dispersed over Europe 
 would not amount to a regiment. In Cicero's pleadings 
 for Milo, I find this argument, among others, made 
 use of to prove that his client had not assassinated Clo- 
 dius. Hud Milo, said he, intended to have killed Clo- 
 dius, he had not attacked him in the day-time, and at 
 such a distance from the city : He had waylaid him at 
 niglit, near the suburbs, where it might have been pre- 
 tended that he was killed by robbers ; and the frequen- 
 cy of the accident would have favoured the deceit. 
 This is a surprising proof of the loose policy of Rome, 
 and of the number and force of these robbers, since
 
 or CIVIL LIBERTY. 105 
 
 Cloclliis * was at that time attended by thirty shives, 
 who were completely armed, and sufliciently accustom- 
 ed to blood and danger in the frequent tumults excited 
 by that seditious tribune. 
 
 But though all kinds of governmentbe improved in mo- 
 dern times, yet monarchical government seems to liave 
 made the greatest advances towards perfection. It may 
 now be affirmed of civilized monarchies, what was for- 
 merly said in praise of republics alone, that they are a 
 government of I^axzs^ not of Men. They are found sus- 
 ceptible of order, method, and constancy, to a surpris- 
 ing degree. Property is there secure, industry en- 
 couraged, the arts flourish, and the prince lives se- 
 cure among his subjects, like a father among his 
 children. There are, perhaps, and have been for 
 two centuries, near two hundred absolute princes, 
 great and small, in Europe ; and allowing twenty 
 years to each reign, we may suppose, that there have 
 been in the whole two thousand monarchs, or tyrants, 
 as the Greeks would have called them ; yet of these 
 there has not been one, not even Philip II. of Spain, 
 so bad as Tiberius, Caligula, Nero, or Domitian, who 
 were four in twelve among the Roman emperors. It 
 must, however, be confessed, that though monarchical 
 governments have a})proached nearer to popular ones 
 in gentleness and stability, they are still inferior. Our 
 modern education and customs instil more humanity 
 and moderation than the ancient ; but have not as yet 
 been able to overcome entirely the disadvantages of that 
 form of government. 
 
 But here I must beg leave to advance a conjecture, 
 which seems probable, but wliich posterity alone can 
 
 * Vide Asc. Ped, in Oiat. pro Miluue.
 
 106 ESSAY XII. 
 
 fully judge of. I am apt to think, that in monarchical 
 governments there is a source of improvement, and in 
 })opular governments a source of degenei'acy, which in 
 time will bring these species of civil polity still nearer 
 an equality. The greatest abuses which arise in France, 
 the most perfect model of pure monarcliy, proceed not 
 from the number or weight of the taxes, beyond what 
 are to be met with in free countries ; but from the ex- 
 pensive, unequal, arbitrary, and intricate method of 
 levying them, by which the industry of the poor, espe- 
 cially of the peasants and farmers, is in a great measure 
 discouraged, and agriculture rendered a beggarly and 
 slavish employment. But to whose advantage do these 
 abuses tend ? If to that of the nobility, they might be 
 esteemed inherent in that form of government, since 
 the nobility are the true supports of monarchy ; and it 
 is natural their interest should be more consulted in 
 such a constitution, than that of the people. But the 
 nobility are, in reality, the chief losers by this oppres- 
 sion, since it ruins their estates, and beggars their te- 
 nants. The only gainers by it are the Financiers ; a 
 race of men rather odious to the nobility and the whole 
 kingdom. If a prince or minister, therefore, should 
 arise, endowed with sufficient discernment to know his 
 own and the public interest, and with sufficient force of 
 minil to break through ancient customs, we might ex- 
 pect to see these abuses remedied ; in which case, the 
 difference between that absolute government and our 
 free one would not appear so considerable as at present. 
 The source of degeneracy which may be remarked in 
 free governments, consists in the practice of contracting 
 debt, and mortgaging the public revenues, by which 
 taxes may, in time, become altogether intolerable, and 
 all the proj)erty of the state be brought into the hands
 
 OF CIVIL LIBERTY. 1 OT 
 
 of the public. This practice is of modern date. The 
 Athenians, though governed by a repubhc, paid near 
 two hundred per cent, for those sums of money which 
 any emergence made it necessary for them to borrow ; 
 as we learn from Xenophon. '^ Among the moderns, 
 the Dutch first introduced the practice of borrowing 
 great sums at low interest, and have well nigh ruined 
 themselves by it. Absolute princes have also contract- 
 ed debt ; but as an absolute prince may make a bank- 
 ruptcy when he pleases, his people can never be op- 
 pressed by his debts. In popular governments, the 
 people, and chiefly those who have the highest offices, 
 being commonly the public creditors, it is difficult for 
 the state to make use of this remedy, which, however 
 it may sometimes be necessary, is always cruel and bar- 
 barous. This, therefore, seems to be an inconvenience 
 which nearly threatens all free governments, especially 
 our own, at the present juncture of affairs. And what 
 a strong motive is this to increase our frugality of pub- 
 lic money, lest, for want of it, we be reduced, by the 
 multiplicity of taxes, or, what is worse, by our public 
 impotence and inability for defence, to curse our very 
 liberty, and v.ish ourselves in the same state of servi- 
 tude with all the nations who surround us ? 
 
 * Kt»)»"«v OS cfK Koevo? CSV viu x.xX>iv xT*i<7-envre u<j-!rip cctp cv k* 
 
 ■^ovTxi Kxr' ItrnvTov i) oc-x kv i'i(riviyxu<nv. 0< yu^ f^vav 7s-^oTi>iiTuy- 
 T6J, iyyvi ^vo7f fivxTv TrpoTeaofi i^aiT-i — Oooku rZv av^^oirty^v </,iy(p«iXi' 
 Tenon n Kxi 7roXv^^o*ia)TXT»y uvon, HEN. nOPOI.
 
 108 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 OF ELOQUENCE. 
 
 1'hose wlio consider the periods and revolutions of 
 human kind, as represented in history, are entertained 
 with a spectacle full of pleasure and variety, and see 
 with surprise the manners, customs, and opinions of 
 the same species susceptible of such prodigious changes 
 in different periods of time. It may, however, be ob- 
 served, that, in civil history, there is found a much 
 greater uniformity than in the history of learning and 
 science, and that the wars, negociations, and politics of 
 one age, resemble more those of another than the taste, 
 wit, and speculative principles. Interest and ambition, 
 lionour and shame, friendship and enmity, gratitude 
 and revenge, are the prime movers in all public trans- 
 actions ; and these passions are of a very stubborn and 
 untractable nature, in comparison of the sentiments 
 and understanding, which are easily varied by educa- 
 tion and example. The Goths were much more infe- 
 rior to the Romans in taste and science than in cou- 
 rage and virtue. 
 
 But not to compare together nations so widely dif- 
 ferent, it may be observed, that even this latter period 
 of liuman learning is, in many respects, of an opposite 
 cliaracter to the ancient ; and that, if we be superior in
 
 OF ELOQUENCE. 109 
 
 philosophy, we are still, notwithstanding all our refine- 
 ments, much inferior in eloquence. 
 
 In ancient times, no work of genius was thought to 
 require so great parts and capacity as the speaking in 
 public ; and some eminent writers have pronounced 
 the talents even of a great poet or philosopher to be of 
 an inferior nature to those which are requisite for such 
 an undertaking. Greece and Rome produced, each 
 of them, but one accomplished orator ; and, whatever 
 praises the other celebrated speakers might merit, they 
 were still esteemed much inferior to those great models 
 of eloquence. It is observable, that the ancient critics 
 could scarcely find two orators in any age who deserv- 
 ed to be placed precisely in the same rank, and possess- 
 ed the same degree of merit. Calvus, Cajlius, Curio, 
 Hortensius, Caesar, rose one above another : But the 
 greatest of that age was inferior to Cicero, the most elo- 
 quent speaker that had ever appeared in Rome. Those 
 of fine taste, howevei', pronounced this judgment of the 
 Roman orator, as well as of the Grecian, that both of 
 them surpassed in eloquence all that had ever appear- 
 ed, but that they were far from reaching the perfection 
 of their art, which was infinite, and not only exceeded 
 human force to attain, but human imagination to con- 
 ceive. Cicero declares himself dissatisfied with his 
 own performances, nay, even with those of Demosthe- 
 nes, lia sunt avidce et capaces mece mires, says he, et 
 semper aliquid inwiefisum, injinitumqiie desidcrant. 
 
 Of all the polite and learned nations, England a- 
 lone possesses a popular government, or admits in- 
 to the legislature such numerous assemblies as can 
 be supposed to lie under the dominion of elo- 
 quence. But what has England to boast of in this 
 particular ? In enumerating the great men who have
 
 110 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 clone honour to our country, we exult in our poets 
 and pliilosophers ; but what orators are ever mention- 
 ed ? or where are the monuments of their genius to be 
 met with ? There are found, indeed, in our histories, the 
 names of several, who directed the resolutions of our 
 parliament : But neither themselves nor others have 
 taken the pains to preserve their speeches : and the 
 authority, which they possessed, seems to have been 
 owing to their experience, wisdom, or power, more 
 than to their talents for oratory. At present there are 
 above half a dozen speakers in the two Houses, who, in 
 the judgment of the public, have reached very near the 
 same pitch of eloquence ; and no man pretends to give 
 any one the preference above the rest. This seems to 
 me a certain proof, that none of them have attained 
 much beyond a mediocrity in their art, and that the 
 species of elocjuence, which they aspire to, gives no 
 exercise to the sublimer faculties of the mind, but may 
 be reached by ordinary talents and a slight applica- 
 tion. A hundred cabinet-makers in London can work 
 a table or a chair equally well ; but no one poet can 
 write verses with such spirit and elegance as Mr Pope. 
 We are told, that, when Demosthenes was to plead, 
 all ingenious men flocked to Athens from the most re- 
 mote parts of Greece, as to the most celebrated spec- 
 tacle of the world. ^ At London, you may see men 
 sauntering in the court of requests, while the most im- 
 portant debate is carrying on in the two Houses ; and 
 many do not think themselves sufficiently compensated 
 
 Ne illud fjiiidem iiUflligmit, iion rnodo ita ineinoriae proditum esse, 
 sed ita necesse fuisse, cum Demosthenes dicturus esset, ut concursus, 
 audicndi causa, ex tola Graecia fierent. At cum isti Attici dicunt, non 
 modo a corona (quod est ipsum miserabile) sed etiam ab advocatis relin- 
 quuntur. — Cicero de Claris Oralorilnis.
 
 or ELQOUENCE. IH 
 
 for the losing of their dinners, by all the eloquence of 
 our most celebrated speakers. Wlien old Cibber is 
 to act, the curiosity of several is more excited, than 
 when our prime minister is to defend himself from a 
 motion for his removal or impeachment. 
 
 Even a person, unacquainted with thenoble remains 
 of ancient orators, may judge, from a few strokes, that 
 the style or species of their eloquence was infinitely 
 more sublime than that which modern orators aspire 
 to. How absurd would it appear, in our temperate 
 and calm speakers, to make use of an Apostrophe^ like 
 that noble one of Demosthenes, so much celebrated by 
 Quhitilian and Longinus, when, justifying the unsuc- 
 cessful battle of Chaeronea, he breaks out, ' No, my 
 fellow- citizens. No: You have not erred. I swear by 
 the manes of those heroes, who fought for the same 
 cause in the plains of Marathon and Plataea. ' Who 
 could now endure such a bold and poetical figure as 
 that which Cicero employs, after describing, in the 
 most tragical terms, the crucifixion of a Roman citizen ? 
 ' Should I paint the horrors of this scene, not to Roman 
 citizens, not to the allies of our state, not to those who 
 have ever heard of the Roman name, not even to men, 
 but to brute creatures ; or, to go farther, should I lift 
 up my voice in the most desolate solitude, to the rocks 
 and mountains, yet should I surely see those rude and 
 inanimate parts of nature moved with horror and indig- 
 nation at the recital of so enormous an action. ' ^ With 
 
 ^ The original is : ' Quod si haec non ad cives Romanos, non ad ali- 
 quos amicos nostrae civitatis, non ad eos qui populi lloinani nomen au- 
 dissent; denique, si non ad homines, verum ad bestias; aut etiara, ut 
 longius progrediar, si in aliqua desertissima solitudine, ad saxa et ad sco- 
 pulos haec conqueri et deplorare velleni, tamen omnia muta atque ina- 
 nima, tanta et tam indigna rerum atrocitate connnoverentur Cic. in Fer.
 
 112 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 what a blaze of eloquence must such a sentence be sur- 
 rounded to give it grace, or cause it to make any im- 
 pression !on the liearers ! And what noble art and 
 sublime talents are requisite to arrive, by just degrees, 
 at a sentiment so bold and excessive ! To inflame the 
 audience, so as to make them accompany the speaker 
 in such violent passions, and such elevated conceptions ; 
 and to conceal, under a torrent of eloquence, the arti- 
 fice by which all this is effectuated ! Should this sen- 
 timent even appear to us excessive, as perhaps justly it 
 may, it will at least serve to give an idea of the style of 
 ancient eloquence, where such swelling expressions 
 were not rejected as wholly monstrous and gigantic. 
 
 Suitable to this vehemence of thought and expression, 
 was the vehemence of action, observed in the ancient 
 orators. The supplosio pedis^ or stamping with the 
 foot, was one of the most usual and moderate gestures 
 which they made use of; " though that is now esteemed 
 too violent, either for the senate, bar, or pulpit, and is 
 only admitted into the theatre to accompany the most 
 violent passions which are there represented. 
 
 One is somewhat at a loss to what cause we may 
 ascribe so sensible a decline of eloquence in latter ages. 
 The genius of mankind, at all times, is perhaps equal : 
 The moderns have applied themselves, with great in- 
 dusti-y and success, to all the other arts and sciences : 
 And a learned nation possesses a popular government; 
 a circumstance which seems requisite for the full dis- 
 play of these noble talents : But notwithstanding all 
 
 * Ul)i dolor? Ubi ardor aniini, qui ctiam ox inf'antium iiigeniis cliccre 
 vocfs ft querelas solet ? nulla perturbatio animi, nulla corporis; frons 
 non percussa, iion femur; pedis ((juod minimum est J nulla supplosio. 
 Itaque tantum abfuit ut inflammares nostros animos ; somnum isto loco 
 Tix tencbamus. — Cicero de Claris Oruloribus.
 
 OF ELOOUENCK. 113 
 
 tliese advantages, our progress in eloquence is very in- 
 considerable, in comparison of the advances which we 
 have made in all other parts of learning. 
 
 Shall we assert, that the strains of ancient eloquence 
 are unsuitable to our age, and ought not to be imitated 
 by modern orators ? Whatever reasons may be made 
 use of to prove this, I am persuaded they will be found, 
 upon examination, to be unsound and unsatisfactory. 
 
 First, It may be said, that, in ancient times, during 
 the flourishing period of Greek and Roman learning, 
 the municipal laws, in every state, w^ere but few and 
 simple, and the decision of causes was, in a great mea- 
 sure, left to the equity and common sense of the judges. 
 The study of the laws was not then a laborious occupa- 
 tion, requiring the drudgery of a whole life to finish it, 
 and incompatible with every other study or profession. 
 The great statesmen and generals among the Romans 
 were all lawyers ; and Cicero, to show the facility of 
 acquiring this science, declares, that in the midst of all 
 his occupations, he would undertake, in a few days, to 
 make himself a complete civilian. Now, where a plead- 
 er addresses himself to the equity of his judges, he has 
 much more room to display his eloquence, than where 
 he must draw his arguments from strict laws, statutes, 
 and precedents. In the former case many circumstan- 
 ces must be taken in, many personal considerations re- 
 garded, and even favour and inclination, which it be- 
 longs to the orator, by his art and eloquence, to conci- 
 liate, may be disguised under the appearance of equity. 
 But how shall a modern lawyer have leisure to quit 
 his toilsome occupations, in order to gather the flowers 
 of Parnassus ? Or what opportunity shall he have of 
 displaying them, amidst the rigid and subtile argu- 
 ments, objections and replies, which he is obliged to 
 
 VOL. III. II
 
 114 ESSAY xiir. 
 
 make use of? The greatest genius, and greatest orator, 
 who should pretend to plead before the Chancellor, af- 
 ter a month's study of the laws, would only labour to 
 make himself I'idiculous. 
 
 I am ready to own, that this circumstance, of the 
 multiplicity and intricacy of laws, is a discouragement 
 to eloquence in modern times: But I assert, that it 
 will not entirely account for the decline of that noble 
 art. It may banish oratory from Westminster-Hall, 
 but not from either house of Parliament. Among the 
 Athenians, the Areopagites expressly forbade all allure- 
 ments of eloquence ; and some have pretended, that in 
 the Greek orations, written in i\\Q judiciary ^orm, there 
 is not so bold and rhetorical a style as appears in the 
 Roman. But to what a pitch did the Athenians carry 
 their eloquence in the deliberative kind, when affairs of 
 state were canvassed, and the liberty, happiness, and 
 lionour of the republic, were the subject of debate ! 
 Disputes of this nature elevate the genius above all 
 others, and give the fullest scope to eloquence; and 
 such disputes are very frequent in this nation. 
 
 Secondly, It may be pretended, that the decline of 
 eloquence is owing to the superior good sense of the 
 moderns, who reject with disdain all those rhetorical 
 tricks employed to seduce the judges, and will admit of 
 nothing but solid argument in any debate of delibera- 
 tion. If a man be accused of murder, the fact must be 
 proved by witnesses and evidence, and the laws will 
 afterwards determine the punishment of the criminal. 
 It would be ridiculous to describe, in strong colours, 
 the horror and cruelty of the action ; to introduce the 
 relations of the dead, and, at a signal, make them 
 tlirow themselves at the feet of the judges, imploring 
 justice, with tears and lamentations : And still more
 
 OF ELOQUENCE. 115 
 
 ridiculous would it be, to enijiloy a picture represent- 
 ing the bloody deed, in order to move the judges by 
 the display of so tragical a spectacle, though we know 
 that this artifice was sometimes practised by the plead- 
 ers of old. * Now, banish the pathetic from public 
 discourses, and you reduce the speakers merely to mo- 
 dern eloquence ; that is, to good sense, delivered in 
 proper expressions. 
 
 Perhaps it may be acknowledged, that our modern 
 customs, or our superior good sense, if you will, should 
 make our orators more cautious and reserved than the 
 ancient, in attempting to inflame the passions, or ele- 
 vate the imagination of their audience : But I see no 
 reason why it should make them despair absolutely of 
 succeeding in that attempt. It should make them re- 
 double their art, not abandon it entirely. The ancient 
 orators seem also to have been on their guard against 
 this jealousy of their audience ; but they took a different 
 way of eluding it. " They hurried away with such a 
 torrent of sublime and pathetic, that they left their 
 hearers no leisure to perceive the artifice by which they 
 were deceived. Nay, to consider the matter aright, 
 they were not deceived by any artifice. The orator, 
 by the force of his own genius and eloquence, first in- 
 flamed himself with anger, indignation, pit}^, sorrow ; 
 and then communicated those impetuous movements to 
 his audience. 
 
 Does any man pretend to have more good sense 
 than Julius Caesar ? yet that haughty conqueror, we 
 know, was so subdued by the charms of Cicero's elo- 
 quence, that he was, in a manner, constrained to change 
 his settled purpose and resolution, and to absolve a 
 
 QuiNTiL. lib. vi. cap. 1. ^ Longinis, cap. 15. 
 
 H 2
 
 116 ESSAY XIIT. 
 
 criminal, wliom, before that orator pleaded, he was de- 
 termined to condemn. 
 
 "•^ Some objections, I own, notwithstanding his vast 
 success, may lie against some passages of the Roman 
 orator. lie is too florid and rhetorical : His figures 
 are too striking and palpable : The divisions of his 
 discourse are drawn chiefly from the rules of the 
 schools : And his wit disdains not always the artifice 
 even of a pun, rhyme, or jingle of words. The Gre- 
 cian addressed himself to an audience much less refin- 
 ed than the Roman senate or judges. The lowest vul- 
 gar of Athens were his sovereigns, and the arbiters of 
 his eloquence. " Yet is his manner more chaste and 
 austere than that of the other. Could it be copied, its 
 success would be infallible over a modern assembly. 
 It is rapid harmony, exactly adjusted to the sense : It 
 is vehement reasoning, without any appearance of art: 
 It is disdain, anger, boldness, freedom, involved in a 
 continued stream of argument: And, of all human pro- 
 ductions, the orations of Demosthenes present to us 
 the models which approach the nearest to perfection. 
 
 T/ihf/lij, It may be pretended, that the disorders of 
 the ancient frovernments, and the enormous crimes of 
 which the citizens were often guilty, afforded much 
 
 * J This passage is not in the first Editions, it occurs in Edition N. 
 
 " The orators formed tlie taste of the Athenian people, not the people 
 of the orators. Gorgias Lcontinus was very taking with them, till they 
 became acrjuainted with a bettor manner. His figures of speech says 
 Diodorus Siculus, liis antitliesis, his la-oy.nKoc, his o/hoito^ivtov, wliich are 
 now despised, had a great effect upon tlie audience. lAh. xii. p. lOG- 
 ex edilione llliod. It is in vain, therefore, for modern orators to plead 
 the taste of their hearers as an apology for their lame ])crformances. It 
 would be strange prejudice in favour of antiquity, not to allow a British 
 Parliament to be naturally superior in judgment and delicacy to an A- 
 thenian mob.
 
 OF ELOj^UENCE. 1 IT 
 
 ampler matter for eloquence than can be met with 
 among tlie moderns. Were there no Verres or Cati- 
 line, there would be no Cicero. But that this reason 
 can have no great influence, is evident. It would be 
 easy to find a Philip in modern times, but where shall 
 we find a Demosthenes ? 
 
 What remains, then, but that we lay the blame on 
 the want of genius, or of judgment, in our speakers, 
 who either found themselves incapable of reaching the 
 heights of ancient eloquence, or rejected all such en- 
 deavours, as unsuitable to the spirit of modern assem- 
 blies ? A few successful attempts of this nature might 
 rouse the genius of the nation, excite the emulation of 
 the youth, and accustom our ears to a more sublime 
 and more pathetic elocution, than what we have been 
 hitherto entertained with. There is certainly some- 
 thing accidental in the first rise and progress of the 
 arts in any nation. I doubt whether a very satisfactory 
 reason can be given why ancient Rome, though it re- 
 ceived all its refinements from Greece, could attain 
 only to a relish for statuary, painting, and architecture, 
 without reaching the practice of these arts : Wliile mo- 
 dern Rome has been excited by a few remains found 
 among the ruins of antiquity, and has produced artists 
 of the greatest eminence and distinction. - " Had such 
 a cultivated genius for oratory, as Waller's for poetry, 
 arisen during the civil wars, when liberty began to be 
 fully established, and popular assemblies to enter into 
 all the most material points of government, I am per- 
 suaded so illustrious an example would have given a 
 quite different turn to British eloquence, and made us 
 
 » 6 In the early editions the sentence runs thus. Had such a culti- 
 vated genius «s mi/ Lord Bolin^biokc arisen during the civil wars, &c. &c.
 
 118 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 reach the perfection of the ancient model. Our ora- 
 tors would then have done honour to their country, as 
 well as our poets, geometers, and philosophers ; and 
 British Ciceros have appeared, as well as British Ar- 
 chimedeses and \'ir<>ils. - " 
 
 1 7 I have confessed that there is something accidental in the origin 
 and progress of the arts in any nation ; and yet I cannot forbear thinking, 
 that if the other learned and polite nations of Europe had possessed the 
 same arlvantages of a popular government, they would probably have 
 carried eloquence to a greater height than it has yet readied in Britain. 
 Tlie rrencli sermons, especially those of Flechier and Bourdaloue, are 
 nnicli superior to the English in this particular; and in Flechier there 
 are many strokes of the most sublime poetry. His funeral sermon on 
 tlie Marechal de Turennc, is a good instance None but private causes 
 in tliat country, are ever debated before their Parliament or Courts of 
 Judicature ; but, notwithstanding this disadvantage, there appears a spirit 
 of eloquence in many of their lawyers, wliich, with proper cultivation 
 and encouragement, might rise to the greatest heights. The pleadings of 
 Patru are very elegant, and give us room to imagine what so fine a 
 genius could have ])erformed in questions concerning public liberty or 
 slavery, peace or war, wlio exerts himself with such success, in debates 
 concerning the price of an old horse, or the gossiping story of a quarrel 
 betwixt an abbess and her nuns. For it is remarkable, that this polite 
 writer, though esteemed by all the men of wit in his time, was never 
 em])Ioyed in tlie most considerable causes of their courts of judicature, 
 but lived and died in poverty ; from an ancient prejudice industriously 
 propagated by the Dunces in all countries, J'hat a vtan of genius is unfit 
 for biiainess. The disorders produced by the ministry of Cardinal Ma- 
 zarine, made the Parliament, of Paris enter into the discussion of public 
 affairs; and during tliat short interval, there appeared many symptoms 
 of tlie revival of ancient eloquence. Tlie Avocat- General, Talon, in an 
 oration, invoked on his knees the spirit of St Louis to look down with 
 compassion on his divided and uiihai)i)y jieoijle, and to inspire tliem, from 
 above, willi tlie love of concord and uiiaiiiniity. * The members of the 
 French Academy have attempted to give us models of eloquence in their 
 harangues at their admittance ; but having no sulyect to discourse upon, 
 tliey have run altogetlier into a fulsome strain of panegyric and flattery. 
 
 De Ketz's Memoirs.
 
 OF ELOQUENCE. 119 
 
 It is seldom or never found, when a false taste in 
 poetry or eloquence prevails among any people, that it 
 lias been preferred to a true, upon comparison and re- 
 flection. It commonly prevails merely from ignorance 
 of the true, and from the want of perfect models to lead 
 men into a juster apprehension, and more refined re- 
 lish of those productions of genius. When these ap- 
 pear, they soon unite all suffrages in their favour, and, 
 by their natural and powerful charms, gain over even 
 
 the most barren of all subjects. Their style, however, is commonly, on 
 these occasions, very elevated and sublime, and might reach the greatest 
 heiglits, were it employed on a subject more favourable and engaging. 
 
 There are some circumstances in the English temper and genius, which 
 arc disadvantageous to the progress of eloquence, and render all attempts 
 of that kind more dangerous and difficult among them, than among any 
 other nation in the universe. The English are conspicuous for good 
 sense, which makes them very jealous of any attempts to deceive them, 
 by the flowers of rhetoric and elocution. They are also peculiarly mo- 
 dest ; which makes them consider it as a piece of arrogance to offer any 
 thing but reason to public assemblies, or attempt to guide theiri by pas- 
 sion or fancy. I may, perhaps, be allowed to add, that the people in 
 general are not remarkable for delicacy of taste, or for sensibility to the 
 charms of the Muses. Their musical parts, to use the expression of a 
 noble author, are but indifferent. Hence their comic poets, to move 
 them, must have recourse to obscenity; their tragic poets to blood 
 and slaughter. And hence, their orators, being deprived of any such 
 resource, have abandoned altogether the hopes of moving them, and have 
 confined tliemselves to plain argument and reasoning. 
 
 These circumstances, joined to particular accidents, may, perhaps, 
 have retarded the growth of eloquence in this kingdom ; but will not be 
 able to prevent its success, if ever it appear amongst us. And one may 
 safely pronounce, that this is a field in which the most flourishins^ laurels 
 may yet be gathered, if any youth of accomplished genius, thoroughly 
 acquainted with all the polite arts, and not ignorant of public business, 
 should appear in Parliament, and accustom our ears to an eloquence 
 more commanding and pathetic. And to confirm me in this opinion 
 there occur two considerations, the one derived from ancient, the other 
 from modern times.
 
 120 ESSAY Kill. 
 
 the most prejiulicetl to the love and adniiration of them. 
 The principles of every passion, and of every sentiment, 
 is in every man ; and, when touched properl}', they rise 
 to life, and warm the heart, and convey that satisfac- 
 tion, by which a work of o;enius is distinfjuishcd from 
 the adulterate beauties of a capricious wit and fancy. 
 And, if this observation be true, with repjard to all the 
 liberal arts, it must be peculiarly so with regard to 
 eloquence ; which, beini^ merely calculated for the 
 public, and for men of the world, cannot, with any 
 pretence of reason, appeal from the peo})le to more re- 
 fined judges, but must submit to the public verdict 
 without reserve or limitation. Whoever, upon com- 
 parison, is deemed by a common audience the greatest 
 orator, ought most certainly to be pronounced such by 
 men of science and erudition. And thoujrh an indif- 
 ferent speaker may triumph for a long time, and be 
 esteemed altogether perfect by the vulgar, who are sa- 
 tisfied with his accomplishments, and know not in what 
 he is defective ; yet, whenever the true genius arises, he 
 draws to him the attentioji of every one, and immedi- 
 ately appears superior to his rival. 
 
 Now, to judge by this rule, ancient eloquence, that 
 is, the sublime and passionate, is of a much juster taste 
 than the modern, or the ai'gumentative and rational , 
 and, if properly executed, will always have more com- 
 mand and authority over mankind. We are satisfied 
 with our mediocrity, because we have had no experi- 
 ence of any thing better : But the ancients had experi- 
 ence of both ; and ujion comparison, gave the prefer- 
 ence to that kind of which they have left us such ap- 
 plauded models. For, if I mistake not, our modern 
 eloquence is of the same style or species with that which 
 ancient critics denominated Attic eloquence, that is,
 
 OF ELOJJUENCt:. 121 
 
 calm, elegant, and subtile, which instructed the reason 
 more than affected the passions, and never raised its 
 tone above arcjument or common discourse. 8uch was 
 the eloquence of Lysias among the Athenians, and of 
 Calvus amonff the Romans. These were esteemed in 
 their time ; but, when compared with Demosthenes 
 and Cicero, were eclipsed like a taper when set in the 
 rays of a meridian sun. Those latter orators possess- 
 ed the same elegance, and subtilty, and force of argu- 
 ment with the former ; but, what rendered them chiefly 
 admirable, was that pathetic and sublime, which, on 
 proper occasions, they threw into their discourse, and 
 by which they commanded the resolution of their audi- 
 ence. 
 
 Of this species of eloquence we have scarcely had 
 any instance in England, at least in our public speak- 
 ers. In our writers, we have had some instances which 
 have met with great applause, and might assure our 
 ambitious youth of equal or superior glory in attempts 
 for the revival of ancient eloquence. Lord Boling- 
 broke's productions, with all their defects in argument, 
 method, and precision, contain a force and energy 
 which our orators scarcely ever aim at; though it is 
 evident that such an elevated style has much better 
 grace in a speaker than in a writer, and is assured of 
 more prompt and more astonishing success. It is 
 there seconded by the graces of voice and action : 
 The movements are mutually communicated between 
 the orator and the audience : And the very aspect 
 of a large assembly, attentive to the discourse of one 
 man, must inspire him with a peculiar elevation, 
 sufficient to give a propriety to the strongest figures 
 and expressions. It is true, there is a great prejudice 
 against nci sjiceches ; and a man cannot escape ridi^'
 
 122 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 ciile, who repeats a discourse as a schoolboy does 
 his lesson, and takes no notice of any thing that has 
 been advanced in the course of the debate. But where 
 is the necessity of falHng into this absurdity ? A pubhc 
 speaker must know before hand the question under de- 
 bate. He may compose all the arguments, objections, 
 and answers, such as he thinks will be most proper for his 
 discourse. " If any thing new occur, he may supply it 
 from his own invention ; nor will the diilerence be very 
 apparent between his elaborate and his extemporary 
 compositions. The mind naturally continues with the 
 same imjjcttis or fm'ce^ which it has acquired by its 
 motion, as a vessel, once impelled by the oars, carries 
 on its course for some time when the original impulse 
 is suspended. 
 
 I shall conclude this subject with observing, that, 
 even though our modern orators should not elevate 
 their style, or aspire to a rivalship with the ancient ; 
 yet there is, in most of their speeches, a material de- 
 fect which they might correct, without dejiarting from 
 that composed air of argument and reasoning to which 
 they limit their ambition. Their great affectation of 
 extemporary discourses has made them reject all or- 
 der and method, which seems so requisite to argument, 
 and without which it is scarcely possible to produce an 
 entire conviction on the mind. It is not that one 
 would recommend many divisions in a public dis- 
 course, unless the subject very evidently offer them : 
 But it is easy, without this formality, to observe a me- 
 
 ' The first of the Athenians, who composed and wrote his speeches, 
 was Pericles, a man of business and a man of sense, if ever tliere was 
 one, llf.uro{ yfa-jTrot >.-jyov e'v J(x«r»pf«i f'/Tt, tuv Trpo avr« trytSix^ovTU* 
 Suidas in flf^ixXn;.
 
 OF ELOQUENCE. 123 
 
 thod, and make that method conspicuous to the hear- 
 ers, who will be infinitely pleased to see the arguments 
 rise naturally from one another, and will retain a more 
 thorough persuasion than can arise from the strongest 
 reasons which are thrown together in confusion.
 
 ]->l. 
 
 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 or THE RISE AND I'ROGUE.SS OF THE ARTS AND 
 
 SCIENCES. 
 
 Nothing requires greater nicety, in our inquiries 
 concerning human affairs, than to distinguish exactly 
 what is owing to chance, and what proceeds from 
 causes ,- nor is there any subject in which an author is 
 more liable to deceive himself by false subtilties and 
 refinements. To say that any event is derived from 
 chance, cuts short all farther inquiry concerning it, 
 and leaves the writer in the same state of ignorance 
 with the rest of mankind. But when the event is sup- 
 posed to proceed from certain and stable causes, he 
 may then display his ingenuity in assigning these 
 causes ; and as a man of any subtilty can never be at 
 a loss in this particular, he has thereby an opportunity 
 of swelling his volumes, and discovering his profound 
 knowledge in observing what escapes the vulgar and 
 ignorant. 
 
 The distinguishing between chance and causes must 
 dej)en(l upon every particular man's sagacity in consi- 
 dering every particular incident. But if I were to as- 
 sign any general rule to help us in ajiplying this dis- 
 tinction, it would be the following: What depends up- 
 on a fe\i: persojis is, in a <^reaL vieasure, Lu he ascribed
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 125 
 
 to chance, or secret and unknoxtm causes : JVliat arises 
 from a great manher, may often he accounted for by de- 
 terminate and knormi causes. 
 
 Two natural reasons may be assigned for this rule. 
 Fi7-st, If you suppose a die to have any bias, however 
 small, to a particular side, this bias, though perhaps it 
 may not appear in a few throws, will certainly prevail 
 in a great number, and will cast the balance entirely 
 to that side. In like manner, when any causes beget a 
 particular inclination or passion, at a certain time, and 
 among a certain people, though many individuals may 
 escape the contagion, and be ruled by passions pecu- 
 liar to themselves, yet the multitude will certainly be 
 seized by the common affection, and be governed by it 
 in all their actions. 
 
 Secondly, Those principles or causes which are fitted 
 to operate on a multitude, are always of a grosser and 
 more stubborn nature, less subject to accidents, and 
 less influenced by whim and private fancy, than those 
 which operate on a few only. The latter are common- 
 ly so delicate and refined, that the smallest incident in 
 the health, education, or fortune of a particular person, 
 is sufficient to divert their course and retard their ope- 
 ration ; nor is it possible to reduce them to any gene- 
 ral maxims or observations. Their influence at one 
 time will never assure us concerning their influence at 
 another, even though all the general circumstances 
 should be the same in both cases. 
 
 To judge by this rule, the domestic and the gradual 
 revolutions of a state must be a more proper subject 
 of reasoning and observation than the foreimi and tlie 
 violent, which are commonly produced by single per- 
 sons, and are more influenced by whim, folly or ca- 
 price, than by general passions and interests. The
 
 126 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 depression of tlie Lords, and rise of the Commons in 
 En<rland, after the statutes of alienation, and the in- 
 crease of trade and industry, are more easily account- 
 ed for by general principles, than the depression of 
 the Spanish, and rise of the French monarchy, after 
 the death of Charles Quint. Had Harry IV. Cardi- 
 nal Richelieu, and Louis XIV. been Spaniards, and 
 Philiji II. III. and IV., and Charles II. been French- 
 men, the history of these two nations had been en- 
 tirely reversed. 
 
 For the same reason, it is more easy to account for 
 the rise and pro^^ress of commerce in any kingdom 
 than for that of learning; and a state, which should 
 apply itself to the encouragement of one, would be 
 more assured of success than one which should culti- 
 vate the other. (Avarice, or the desire of gain, is an 
 universal passion, which operates at all times, in all 
 places, and upon all persons : But curiosity, or the 
 love of knowledge, has a very limited influence, and 
 requires youth, leisure, education, genius and exam- 
 ple, to make it govern any person. You will never 
 want booksellers while there are buyers of books : But 
 there may frequently be readers where there are no 
 authors.! Multitudes of people, necessity and liberty, 
 have begotten commerce in Holland : But study and 
 application have scarcely produced any eminent writ- 
 ers. 
 
 V/c may therefore conclude, that there is no sub- 
 ject in which we must proceed with more caution than 
 in tracing the history of the arts and sciences, lest we 
 assign causes which never existed, and reduce wliat is 
 merely contingent to stable and universal principles. 
 Those who cultivate the sciences in any state are al- 
 ways few in number ; the passion which governs them
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIEN'CES. 127 
 
 limited ; their taste and judgment delicate and easily 
 perverted ; and their application disturbed with the 
 smallest accident. Chance, therefore, or secret and 
 unknown causes, must have a great influence on the 
 rise and progress of all the refined arts. 
 
 But there is a reason M-hich induces me not to a- 
 scribe the matter altoji-ether to chance. Though the 
 persons who cultivate the sciences with such astonish- 
 ing success as to attract the admiration of posterity, be 
 always few in all nations and all ages, it is impossible but 
 a share of the same spirit and genius must be antece- 
 dently diffused throughout the people among whom they 
 arise, in order to produce, form, and cultivate, from 
 their earliest infancy, the taste and iudo-ment of those 
 eminent writers. The mass cannot be altogether in- 
 sipid from which such refined spirits are extracted. 
 There is a God iviihin us, says Ovid, "d/io hrcathes. that 
 divine Jire by *which we are a7iimated. ^ Poets in all 
 ages have advanced this claim to inspiration. There 
 is not, however, any thing supernatural in the case. 
 Their fire is not not kindled from heaven. It only 
 runs along the earth, is caught from one breast to an- 
 other, and burns brightest where the materials are 
 best prepared and most happily disposed. The ques- 
 tion, therefoi'e, concerning the rise and progress of the 
 arts and sciences is not altogether a question concern- 
 ing the taste, genius, and spirit of a few, but concern- 
 ing those of a whole people, and may therefore be ac- 
 counted for, in some measure, by general causes and 
 principles. I grant that a man, who should inquire 
 why such a particular poet, as Homer, for instance, 
 
 ^ Est Deus in nobis ; agitante calescimus illo : 
 Impetus hie, sacra; scmina mentis habet. Ovid. Fast. lib. i.
 
 128 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 existed at such a jilace, in such a time, would throw 
 himself headlon<y into chimera, and could never treat 
 of such a subject without a multitude of false subtilties 
 and refinements. lie mioht as well pretend to give a 
 reason why such })articular oenerals as Fabius and 
 Scipio lived in Rome at such a time, and why F'abius 
 came into the world before Sci})io. For such incidents 
 as these no other reason can be giverj than that of Ho- 
 race : 
 
 Scit genius, natale comes, qui temperat astrum. 
 Naturae Deus humanne, mortalis in unum 
 
 -Quodque caput, vultu mutahilis, albus ct ater. 
 
 I 
 
 Bill I am persuaded that in many cases good rea- 
 sons might be given why such a nation is more polite 
 and learned, at a particular time, than any of its neigh- 
 bours. At least this is so curious a subject, that it 
 were a pity to abandon it entirely before we have 
 found whether it be susceptible of reasoning, and can 
 be reduced to any general ]irinciples. 
 
 My first observation on this head is. That H is im- 
 'po^nbh' jhr I he arh and sciences to arise, at Jirst, among 
 any ])eoj>le, unless that iicople cnjoij the blessing of a 
 free government. 
 
 In the first ages of the world, wlien men are as yet 
 barbarous and ignorant, they seek no farther security 
 against mutual violence and injustice than the choice of 
 some rulers, few or many, in whom they place an iiiipli- 
 cit confidence, without providing any .security, by laws 
 or political institutions, against the violence and injus- 
 tice of these rulers. If the authority be centered in a 
 single person, and if the people, either by conquest or 
 by the ordinary course of propagation, increase to a 
 great multitude, the monarch, finding it impossible, in 
 his own person, to execute every office of sovereignty,
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 129 
 
 in every place, must delegate his authority to infe- 
 rior magistrates, who preserve peace and order in 
 their respective districts. As experience and educa- 
 tion have not yet refined the judgments of men to any 
 considerable degree, the prince, who is himself unre- 
 strained, never dreams of restraining his ministers, but 
 delegates his full authority to every one whom he sets 
 over any portion of the people. All general laws are at- 
 tended with inconveniences, when applied to particular 
 cases ; and it requires great penetration and experience, 
 both to perceive that these inconveniences are fewer 
 than what result from full discretionary powers in every 
 magistrate, and also to discern what general laws are, 
 upon the whole, attended with fewest inconveniences. 
 This is a matter of so great difficulty, that men may 
 have made some advances, even in the sublime arts of 
 poetry and eloquence, where a rapidity of genius and 
 imagination assists their progress, before they have ar- 
 rived at any great refinement in their municipal laws, 
 where frequent trials and diligent observation can alone 
 direct their improvements. It is not, therefore, to be 
 supposed, that a barbarous monarch, unrestrained and 
 uninstructed, will ever become a legislator, or think of 
 restraining his Bashaws in every province, or even his 
 Cadis in every village. We are told, that the late Czart 
 though actuated with a noble genius, and smit with the 
 love and admiration of European arts ; yet professed 
 an esteem for the Turkish policy in this particular, and 
 approved of such summary decisions of causes, as are 
 practised in that barbarous monarchy, where the judges 
 are not restrained by any methods, forms, or laws. He 
 did not perceive, how contrary such a practice would 
 have been to all his other endeavours for refininjr his 
 people. Arbitrary power, in all cases, is somewhat 
 
 VOL. III. I
 
 130 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 oppressive and debasing ; but it is altogether ruinous 
 and intolerable, when contracted into a small compass; 
 and becomes still worse, when the person, who possess- 
 es it, knows that the time of his authority is limited and 
 uncertain. Habct subjectos tanq^iam siios ; viles ut ali~ 
 enos. * He governs the subjects with full authority, as 
 if they were his own ; and with negligence or tyranny, 
 as belonging to another. A people, governed after 
 such a manner, are slaves in the full and proper sense 
 of the word ; and it is impossible they can ever aspire 
 to any refinements of taste or reason. They dare not 
 so much as pretend to enjoy the necessaries of life in 
 plenty or security. 
 
 To expect, therefore, that the arts and sciences should 
 take their first risj in a monarchy, is to expect a contra- 
 diction. Before these refinements have taken place, the 
 monarch is ignorant and uninstructed ; and not havinir 
 knowledge sufficient to make him sensible of the neces- 
 sity of balancing his government upon general laws, he 
 delegates his full power to all inferior magistrates. This 
 barbarous policy debases the people, and for ever pre- 
 vents all improvements. Were it possible, that, before 
 science were known in the world, a monarch could pos- 
 sess so much wisdom as to become a lefjislator, and efo- 
 vern his people by law, not by the arbitrary wdll of their 
 fellow-subjects, it might be possible for that species of 
 government to be the first nursery of arts and sciences. 
 But that suj)j)osition seems scarcely to be consistent or 
 rational. 
 
 It may happen, that a republic, in its infant state, 
 may be supj)orted by as few laws as a barbarous mo- 
 narchy, and may intrust as unlimited an authority to its 
 
 " Tacit. Hist. lib. i.
 
 THE RISE OF ARTii AND SCIENCES. 131 
 
 magistrates or judges. But, besides that the frequent 
 elections by the people are a considerable check upon 
 authority ; it is impossible, but in time, the necessity 
 of restraining the magistrates, in order to preserve 
 libert}', must at last appear, and give rise to general 
 laws and statutes. The Roman Consuls, for some time, 
 decided all causes, without being confined by any posi- 
 tive statutes, till the people, bearing this yoke with 
 impatience, created the decemvirs, who promulgated the 
 Txvclve Tables ; a body of laws which, though perhaps 
 they were not equal in bulk to one English act of Par- 
 liament, were almost the only written rules, which re- 
 gulated property and punishment, for some ages, in that 
 famous republic. They were, however, sufficient, to- 
 gether with the forms of a free government, to secure 
 the lives and properties of the citizens ; to exempt one 
 man from the dominion of another ; and to protect 
 every one against the violence or tyranny of his fellow- 
 citizens. In such a situation, the sciences may raise 
 their heads and flourish; but never can have being 
 amidst such a scene of oppression and slavery, as al- 
 ways results from barbarous monarchies, where the 
 people alone are restrained by the authority of the ma- 
 gistrates, and the magistrates are not restrained by any 
 law or statute. An unlimited despotism of this nature, 
 while it exists, effectually puts a stop to all improve- 
 ments, and keeps men from attaining that knowledge, 
 which is requisite to instruct them in the advantages a- 
 rising from a better police, and more moderate authority. 
 Here then are the advanta<jes of free states. Thouoli 
 a republic should be barbarous, it necessarily, by an 
 infallible operation, gives rise to Law, even before man- 
 kind have made any considerable advances in the other 
 sciences. From law arises security ; from security cu- 
 
 1 2 *
 
 132 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 viosity ; and from ciirio«;ity knowledge. The latter steps 
 of this progress may be more accidental ; but the for- 
 mer are altogether necessary. A republic without laws 
 can never have any duration. On the contrary, in a 
 monarchical government, law arises not necessarily from 
 the forms of government. Monarchy, when absolute, 
 contains even something repugnant to law. Great wis- 
 dom and reflection can alone reconcile them. But such 
 a degree of wisdom can never be expected, before the 
 greater refinements and improvements of human reason. 
 These refinements require curiosity, security, and law. 
 The/frst growth, therefore, of the arts and sciences, can 
 never be expected in despotic governments. ^ ^ 
 
 There are other causes, which discourage the rise of 
 the refined arts in despotic governments ; though I take 
 the want of laws, and the delegation of full powers to 
 every petty magistrate, to be the principal. Eloquence 
 certainly springs up more naturally in popular govern- 
 ments : Emulation, too, in every accomplishment, must 
 there be more animated and enlivened ; and genius and 
 capacity have a fuller scope and career. All these 
 causes render free governments the only proper 7mr- 
 sery for the arts and sciences. 
 
 The next observation which I shall make on this 
 head is, That notJiing is more favourable to the rise of 
 politeness and learnings than a number of neighbouring 
 and independent states, connected together by commerce 
 
 * 8 According to the necessary progress of things, law must precede 
 science. In republics, law may precede science, and may arise from the 
 very nature of the government. In monarchies, it arises not from the 
 nature of the government, and cannot precede science. An absolute 
 prince, that is barbarous, renders all his ministers and magistrates as 
 absolute as himself: And there needs no more to prevent, for ever, all 
 industry, curiosity, and science. — Editions B, D, and N.
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 133 
 
 and policy. The emulation which naturiilly arises a- 
 niong those neighbouring states is an obvious source 
 of improvement. But what I would chiefly insist on 
 is the stop which such limited territories give both to 
 potsoer and to authority. 
 
 Extended governments, where a single person has 
 great influence, soon become absolute ; but small ones 
 change naturally into commonwealths. A large go- 
 vernment is accustomed by degrees to tyranny, be- 
 cause each act of violence is at first performed upon a 
 part, which, being distant from the majority, is not ta- 
 ken notice of, nor excites any violent ferment. Be- 
 sides, a large government, though the whole be dis- 
 contented, may, by a little art, be kept in obedience ; 
 while each part, ignorant of the resolutions of the rest, 
 is afraid to begin any commotion or insurrection : not 
 to mention that there is a superstitious reverence for 
 princes, which mankind naturally contract when they 
 do not often see the sovereign, and when many of them 
 become not acquainted with him so as to perceive his 
 weaknesses. And as large states can afford a great 
 expense in oi'der to support the pomp of majesty, this 
 is a kind of fascination on men, and naturally contri- 
 butes to the enslaving of them. 
 
 In a small government, any act of oppression is im- 
 mcdiatelv known throu";hout the whole; the murmurs 
 and discontents proceeding from it are easily commu- 
 nicated ; and the indignation arises the higher, because 
 the subjects are not to apprehend, in such states, that 
 the distance is very wide between themselves and their 
 sovereign. ' No man, ' said the Prince of Condc, ' is 
 a hero to his valet de chamhrc. ' It is certain that ad- 
 miration and acquaintance are altogether incompatible 
 towards any mortal creature. Sleeji and love con-
 
 13i ESSAY XIV. 
 
 viiiced even Alexander himself that he was not a God. 
 Rut I suppose that such as daily attended him could 
 easily, iVom the nuuiberless weaknesses to which he 
 was subject, have «riven him many still more convinc- 
 ing proofs of his humanity. 
 
 Ikit the divisions into small states are favourable to 
 learnintr, by stopping the progress of authority as well 
 as that of po-^cr. Reputation is often as great a fasci- 
 nation upon men as sovereignty, and is equally de- 
 structive to the freedom of thought and examination. 
 But where a number of neighbouring states have a 
 <rreat intercourse of arts and commerce, their mutual 
 jealousy keeps them from receiving too lighdy the law 
 from each other, in matters of taste and of reasoning, 
 and makes them examine every work of art with the 
 greatest care and accuracy. The contagion of popu- 
 lar opinion spreads not so easily from one place to 
 another. It readily receives a check in some state or 
 other, where it concurs not with the prevailing preju- 
 dices. And nothing but nature and reason, or at least 
 what bears them a strong resemblance, can force its 
 way through all obstacles, and unite the most rival na- 
 tions into an esteem and admiration of it. 
 
 Greece was a cluster of little principalities, which 
 soon became republics ; and being united both by their 
 near neighbourhood, and by the ties of the same lan- 
 guage and interest, they entered into the closest inter- 
 course of commerce and learning. There concurred a 
 liajipy climate, a soil not unfertile, and a most harmo- 
 nious and comprehensive language ; so that every cir- 
 cumstance among that people seemed to favour the 
 rise of the arts and sciences. Each city produced its 
 several artists and })hilosophers, who refused to yield 
 the preference to those of the neighbouring republics ; 

 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 135 
 
 their contention and debates sharpened the wits of 
 men; a variety of objects was presented to the jud<r- 
 ment, while each challenged the preference to the rest> 
 and tlie sciences, not being dwarfed by tlie restraint of 
 authority, were enabled to make such considerable 
 shoots as are even at this time the objects of our ad- 
 miration. After the Roman Christian or Catholic 
 church had spread itself over the civilized world, and 
 had engrossed all the learning of the times, being real- 
 ly one large state within itself, and united under one 
 head, this variety of sects immediately disappeared, 
 and the Peripatetic philosophy was alone admitted in- 
 to all the schools, to the utter depravation of every 
 kind of learning. But mankind having at len<rth 
 thrown off this yoke, affairs are now returned nearly 
 to the same situation as before, and Europe is at pre- 
 sent a copy, at large, of what Greece was formerly a 
 pattern in miniature. We have seen the advantage of 
 this situation in several instances. What checked the 
 progress of the Cartesian philosophy, to which the 
 French nation showed such a strong propensity to- 
 wards the end of the last century, but the opposition 
 made to it by the other nations of Europe, who soon 
 discovered the weak sides of that philosophy ? The 
 severest scrutiny which Newton's theory has under- 
 gone proceeded not from his own countrymen, but . 
 from foreigners ; and if it can overcome the obstacles 
 which it meets with at present in all parts of Euro})e, 
 it will probably go down triumphant to the latest pos- 
 terity. The English are become sensible of the scan- 
 dalous licentiousnes of their stage, from tlie example 
 of the French decency and morals. The French are 
 convinced that their theatre has become somewhat ef- 
 feminate by too much love and gallantry, and begin to
 
 136 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 approve of the more masculine taste of some neigh- 
 bouring nations. 
 
 In China, there seems to be a pretty considerable 
 stock of politeness and science, which, in the course of 
 so many centuries, might naturally be expected to ri- 
 pen into something more perfect and finished than 
 what has yet arisen from them. But China is one vast 
 empire, speaking one language, governed by one law, 
 and svmpathi/ino- in the same manners. The autho- 
 rity of any teacher, such as Confucius, was propagated 
 easily from one corner of the empire to the other. 
 None had courage to resist the torrent of popular opi- 
 nion ; and posterity was not bold enough to dispute 
 what had been universally received by their ancestors. 
 This seems to be one natural reason why the sciences 
 liave made so slow a progress in that mighty em- 
 pire. ^ 
 
 ^ If it be asked how we can reconcile to the foregoing principles the 
 happiness, riclies, and good police of the Chinese, who have always been 
 governed by a monarcli, and can scarcely form an idea of a free go- 
 vernment ; I w ould answer, that though the Chinese government be a 
 pure monarchy, it is not, properly speaking, absolute. This proceeds 
 from a peculiarity in tlie situation of that country: They have no neigh- 
 bours, except tlic Tartars, from whom they were, in some measure, se- 
 cured, at least seemed to be secured, by tlieir famous wall, and by the 
 great superiority of their numbers. By this means, military discipline 
 has always been much neglected amongst them; and their standing 
 forces are mere militia of the worst kind, and unfit to suppress any ge- 
 neral insurrection in countries so extremely poiJulous The sword, there- 
 fore, may properly be said to be always in tlie hands of the people ; which 
 is a sufficient restraint upon the monarch, and obliges him to lay his 
 mandarinf, or governors of provinces, under the restraint of general 
 laws, in order to jjrevent those rebellions wliich we learn from history to 
 have been so frequent and dangerous in that government. Perhaps a 
 pure monarchy of tliis kind, were it fitted for defence against foreign 
 enemies, would be rhe best of all governments, as having both the tran- 
 quillity attending kingly power, and the moderation and liberty of popu-r 
 lar assemblies. 
 
 ^
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 137 
 
 If we consider the face of the globe, Europe, of all 
 the four parts of the world, is the most broken by 
 seas, rivers, and mountains, and Greece of all coun- 
 tries of Europe. Hence these regions were naturally 
 divided into several distinct governments; and hence 
 the sciences arose in Greece, and Europe has been 
 hitherto the most constant habitation of them. 
 
 I have sometimes been inclined to think, that inter- 
 ruptions in the periods of learning, were they not at- 
 tended with such a destruction of ancient books, and 
 the records of history, w'ould be rather favourable to 
 the arts and sciences, by breaking the progress of au- 
 thority, and dethroning the tyrannical usurpers over 
 human reason. In this particular, they have the same 
 influence as interruptions in political governments and 
 societies. Consider the blind submission of the an- 
 cient philosophers to the several masters in each school, 
 and you will be convinced, that little good could be 
 expected from a hundred centuries of such a servile 
 philosophy. Even the Eclectics, who arose about the 
 age of Augustus, notwithstanding their professing to 
 choose freely what pleased them from every different 
 sect, were yet, in the main, as slavish and dependent 
 as any of their brethren ; since they sought for truth, 
 not in Nature, but in the several schools ; where they 
 supposed she must necessarily be found, though not 
 united in a body, yet dispersed in parts. Upon the 
 revival of learning, those sects of Stoics and Epicureans, 
 Platonists and Pythagoreans, could never regain any 
 credit or authority ; and, at the same time, by the ex- 
 ample of their fall, kept men from submitting, with 
 such blind deference, to those new sects, which have 
 attempted to gain an ascendant over them. 
 
 The third observation, which I shall form on thiij 
 
 //
 
 138 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 head, of the rise and progress of tlie arts and sciences, 
 is. That, tJiough the onlij p-oper nursery of these nohle 
 })lants he a free state, yet may they he transplanted into 
 any government ,- and that a republic is most favourable 
 to the groiiih of the sciences, a?id a civilized monarchy to 
 that of the polite arts. 
 
 To balance a large state or society, whether mo- 
 narchical or republican, on general laws, is a work of 
 so great dilliculty, that no human genius, however 
 comprehensive, is able, by the mere dint of reason and 
 reflection, to effect it. The judgments of many must 
 unite in this work : Experience must guide their la- 
 bour : Time must bring it to perfection : And the feel- 
 in**" of inconveniences must correct the mistakes, which 
 they inevitably fall into, in their first trials and experi- 
 ments. Hence appears the impossibility that this un- 
 dertaking should be begun and carried on in any mo- 
 narchy ; since such a form of government, ere civilized, 
 knows no other secret or policy, than that of intrust- 
 ing unlimited powers to every governor or magistrate, 
 and subdividing the people into so many classes and 
 orders of slavery. From such a situation, no improve- 
 ment can ever be expected in the sciences, in the libe- 
 ral arts, in laws, and scarcely in the manual arts and 
 manufactures. The same barbarism and ignorance, 
 with which the government commences, is propagated 
 to all posterity, and can never come to a period by the 
 efforts or ingenuity of such unhappy slaves. 
 
 But though law, the source of all security and hap- 
 piness, arises late in any government, and is the slow 
 product of order and of liberty, it is not preserved with 
 tiie same difficidty with which it is produced ; but wlien 
 it has f)nce taken root, is a hardy j)lant, which will 
 scarcely ever pcrisli ihrongh the ill cullure of men, or
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 139 
 
 the rigour of the seasons. The arts of hixury, and 
 much more the liberal arts, which depend on a refined 
 taste or sentiment, are easily lost ; because they are 
 always relished by a few only, whose leisure, fortune 
 and genius, fit them for such amusements. But what 
 is profitable to every mortal, and in common life, v/hcn 
 once discovered, can scarcely fail into oblivion, but by 
 the total subversion of society, and by such furious in- 
 undations of barbarous invaders, as obliterate all me- 
 mory of former arts and civility. Imitation also is apt 
 to transport these coarser and more useful arts from 
 one climate to another, and make them precede the 
 refined arts in their progress ; though, perhaps, they 
 sprang after them in their first rise and propagation. 
 From these causes proceed civilized monarchies, where 
 the arts of government, first invented in free states, 
 are preserved to the mutual advantage and security of 
 sovereign and subject. 
 
 However perfect, therefore, the monarchical form 
 may appear to some politicians, it owes all its perfec- 
 tion to the republican ; nor is it possible that a pure 
 despotism, established among a barbarous people, can 
 ever, by its native force and energy, refine and polish 
 itself. It must borrow its laws, and methods, and in- 
 stitutions, and consequently its stability and order, 
 from free governments. These advantages are the 
 sole growth of republics. The extensive despotism of 
 a barbarous monarchy, by entering into the detail of 
 the government, as well as into the principal points of 
 administration, for ever prevents all such improve- 
 ments. 
 
 In a civilized monarchy, the prince alone is unre- 
 strained in the exercise of his authority, and possesses 
 alone a loowcr, which is not bounded by tniv thin')- but
 
 140 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 custom, example, and tlie sense of his own interest. 
 Every minister or magistrate, however eminent, must 
 submit to the general laws which govern the whole so- 
 ciety, and must exert the authority delegated to him 
 after the manner which is prescribed. The people de- 
 pend on none but their sovereign for the security of 
 their property. He is so far removed from them, and 
 is so much exempt from private jealousies or interests, 
 that this dependence is scarcely felt. And thus a spe- 
 cies of government arises, to which, in a high political 
 rant, we may give the name of Tyranny^ but which, by 
 a just and prudent administration, may afford tolerable 
 security to the people, and may answer most of the 
 ends of political society. 
 
 But though in a civilized monarchy, as well as in a 
 republic, the people have security for the enjoyment of 
 their property, yet in both these forms of government, 
 those who possess the supreme authority have the dis- 
 posal of many honours and advantages, which excite 
 the ambition and avarice of mankind. The only dif- 
 ference is, that, in a re})ublic, the candidates for office 
 must look downwards to gain the suffrages of the peo- 
 ple ; in a monarchy, they must turn their attention up- 
 wards, to court the good graces and favour of the 
 great. To be successful in the former way, it is ne- 
 cessary for a man to make himself useful by his indus- 
 try, capacity, or knowledge : To be prosperous in the 
 latter way, it is requisite for him to render himself 
 agreeable by his wit, complaisance, or civility. A strong 
 genius succeeds best in republics; a refined taste in 
 monarchies. And, consequejitly, the sciences are the 
 more natural growth of the one, and the polite arts of 
 the other. 
 
 Not to mention, that monarchies, receiving their
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 141 
 
 chief stability from a superstitious reverence to priests 
 ard princes, have commonly abridged tlie liberty of 
 reasoning, with regard to religion and politics, and 
 consequently metaphj'sics and morals. All these form 
 the most considerable branches of science. Mathema- 
 tics and natural philosophy, which only remain, are 
 not half so valuable. ^ ^ 
 
 Among the arts of conversation, no one pleases more 
 than mutual deference or civility, which leads us to re- 
 sign our own inclinations to those of our companion, 
 and to curb and conceal that presumption and arro- 
 gance so natural to the human mind. A good-natured 
 man, who is well educated, practises this civility to 
 every mortal, without premeditation or interest. But 
 in order to render that valuable quality general among 
 any people, it seems necessary to assist the natural 
 disposition by some general motive. Where power 
 rises upwards from the people to the great, as in all 
 republics, such refinements of civility are apt to be 
 little practised, since the whole state is, by that means, 
 brought near to a level, and every member of it is ren- 
 dered, in a great measure, independent of another. 
 The people have the advantage, by the authority of 
 their suffrages ; the great by the superiority of their 
 station. But in a civilized monarchy, there is a long 
 train of dependence from the prince to the peasant, 
 which is not great enough to render property precari- 
 ous, or depress the minds of the people ; but is suffi- 
 
 » 9 Immediately after this passage, we find in the early Editions 
 B, D and N. 
 
 There is a very great connection among all the arts, that contribute to 
 pleasure ; and the same delicacy of taste vhich enables us to make im- 
 provements in one, will not allow the others to remain altogether rude 
 and barbarous.
 
 142 ESSAY XIY. 
 
 cient to begot In every one an inclination to please his 
 superiors, and to form himself u))on those models which 
 are most acceptable to ]ieople of condition and educa- 
 tion. Politeness of manners, therefore, arises most 
 naturally in monarchies and courts ; and where that 
 flourishes, none of the liberal arts will be altogether 
 neglected or despised. 
 
 The republics in Europe are at present noted for 
 want of politeness. The good manners of a Swiss civi- 
 lized in Holland, ^ is an expression for rusticity among 
 the French. The English, in some degree, fall under 
 tlie same censure, notwithstandino- their learning and 
 genius. And if the Venetians be an exception to the 
 rule, they owe it, perhaps, to their communication with 
 the other Italians, most of whose governments beuet a 
 dependence more than sufhcient for civilizing their 
 maimers. 
 
 It is difficult to pronounce any judgement concern- 
 ing the refinements of the ancient republics in this })ar- 
 ticular : But I am apt to suspect, that the arts of con- 
 versation were not brought so near to perfection among 
 them as the arts of writing and composition. The 
 scurrility of the ancient orators, in many instances, is 
 quite shocking, and exceeds all belief. Vanity, too, is 
 often not a little ofi'ensive in authors of those ages; '' as 
 well as the common licentiousness and immodesty of 
 their style, (^licnvqiw. impudicus, adulter, ganeo, manu. 
 
 * C'cst la ])olitcsso (I'un Suisse 
 
 En Ilollaiide civilise. Rous'seait. 
 
 •* It is needless to cite Cicero or I'liny on this head : Tlicy are too 
 much noted. But one is a little surprised to find Arriaii, a veiy grave, 
 judicious writer, interrupt the thread of liis narration all of a sudden, to 
 tell his readers that he himself is as eminent among the Greeks for elo- 
 <^uence, as Alexander was for arms. — Lib, i. 

 
 TMK RISK OF ARTS AND 8CIENCES. 143 
 
 ventre, pene, bona pntria laccravci^at, says Sallust, in 
 one of tlie gravest and most moral passages of his his- 
 tory. Najii fuit ante Hclenam Cwifms, tetcrrima belli 
 caiisa, is an expression of Horace, in tracing the origin 
 of moral good and evil. Ovid antl Lucretius '' are al- 
 most as licentious in their style as Lord Rochester ; 
 thouo-li the former were fine gentlemen and delicate 
 writers, and the latter, from the corruptions of that 
 court in which he lived, seems to have thrown off all 
 regard to shame and decency. Juvenal inculcates mo- 
 desty with great zeal ; but sets a very bad example of 
 it, if we consider the impudence of his expressions. 
 
 I shall also be bold to affirm, that among the anci- 
 ents, there was not much delicacy of breeding, or that 
 polite deference and respect, which civility obliges us 
 either to express or counterfeit towards the persons 
 with whom we converse. Cicero was certainly one of 
 the finest gentlemen of his age ; yet, I must confess, I 
 have frequently been shocked with the poor figure un- 
 der which he represents his friend Atticus, in those dia- 
 logues where he himself is introduced as a speaker, 
 lliat learned and virtuous Roman, whose dignity, 
 though he was only a private gentleman, was inferior 
 to that of no one in Rome, is there shown in rather a 
 more pitiful light than Philalethes's friend in our mo- 
 dern dialogues. He is a humble admirer of the orator, 
 pays him frequent compliments, and receives his in- 
 structions, with all the deference which a scholar owes 
 
 •• This poet (see lib. iv. ilG5.) recommends a very extraordinary cure 
 for love, and what one expects not to meet with in so elegant and philo- 
 sopliical a poem. It seems to have been the originnl of some of Dr 
 Swift's images. The elegant Catullus and Pha'drus full under the same 
 censure.
 
 lii ESSAY XIV. 
 
 to his master. " Even Cato is treated in somewhat of a 
 cavalier manner in the dialoo;ues Dc Finibus. ^° 
 
 ^ Att. Non milii videtur ad bcate vivcndum satis esse virtutem. Mar. 
 At hercule Bruto meo videtui-; cujiis ego judicium, pace tua dixerim, 
 longe antepono tuo. — Tusc. Qevst. lib. v. 
 
 5 o These observations regarding politeness in different ages and na- 
 tions, occur in all the early Editions, but have been since omitted. And 
 it is reniarkal)k', tliat Cicero, being a great sceptic in matters of religion, 
 and being unwilling to determine any thing on that head among the dif- 
 ferent sects of philosophy, introduces his friends disputing concerning 
 the being and nature of the gods, wliile he is only a hearer; because, 
 forsooth, it would have been an impropriety for so great a genius as him- 
 self had he spoke, not to have said something decisive on the subject, 
 and have carried every thing before him, as he always does on other oc- 
 casions. There is also a spirit of dialogue observed in the charming 
 hooks de Oratore, and a tolerable equality maintained among the speak- 
 ers ; but then these speakers are the great men of the age preceding our 
 author, and he recounts the conference as only from hearsay. 
 
 It is but a very indifferent compliment which Horace pays to his friend 
 Grosphus, ill the ode addressed to him. * No one, says he, is liappj/ in 
 every respect. And I may, perhaps, enjoy some advantages, which you are 
 deprived of. I'om possess great riches : Yo2ir bellowing herds cover the 
 Silician plains : Your chariot is drawn by the finest horses : And you are 
 arrayed in the richest purple. But the indulgent Fates, with a small inhe- 
 ritance have given me a fine genius, and have endowed me with a contempt 
 
 Nihil est ab omni 
 
 I'arte bcatum. 
 Abstulit clarum cita mors Achillem, 
 Longa Tithonum minuit sencctus, 
 Et milii forsan, tibi quod negarit, 
 
 Porriget hora. 
 Tc greges centum, Siculaeque circum 
 Mugiunt vacca; : tibi tojlit hinni- 
 Tum apta quadrigis equa : te bis Afro 
 
 INIurice tincta; 
 Vestiunt lanac : milii parva rura, et 
 R|)iritum Graiae tenuem Camoenae 
 Parca non mendax dedit, et malignum 
 
 Spcrnere vulgus. — Lib. 2. Ode 16.
 
 THE RISK OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 145 
 
 One of the most particular details of a real dialogue, 
 which we meet with in antiquity, is related by Poly- 
 bius ; *■ when Philip king of Macedon, a prince of wit 
 and })arts, met with Titus Flamininus, one of the po- 
 
 for the malignant judgments of the vulgar. Phcedrus says to his patron, 
 Eutychus, if you design to read my works, I shall be pleased : If not, I 
 shall, at least, have the advantage of pleasing posterity. • I am apt to 
 think, that a modern poet would not have been guilty of such an impro- 
 priety, as that which may be observed in Virgil's address to Augustus, 
 when, after a great deal of extravagant flattery, and after having deified 
 the emperor, according to the custom of those times, he at last places 
 this god on the same level with himself, f By your gracious nod, Says 
 
 * Quem si leges, laJtabor ; sin autem minus, habebunt certe quo se 
 oblectent posteri. 
 
 f Ignarosque vise mecum miseratus agrestes 
 Ingredere, et votis jam nunc assuesce vocari. 
 One would not say to a prince or great man, When you and I were in 
 Stich a place, tve saw such a thing happen. But, when you were in such a 
 place, I attended on you -, and such a thing happened. 
 
 Here I cannot forbear mentioning a piece of delicacy observed in 
 France, which seems to me excessive and ridiculous. You must not say* 
 That is a very fine dog, Madam, — But, Madam, that is a very fine dog. 
 They think it indecent that those words Dog and Madam should be 
 coupled together in the sentence, though they have no reference to each 
 other in the sense. 
 
 After all, I acknowledge, that this reasoning from single passages of 
 ancient authors may seem fallacious, and that the foregoing arguments 
 cannot have great force, but with those who are well acquainted with 
 these authors, and know the truth of the general position. For instance, 
 what absurdity would it be to assert that Virgil understood not the force 
 of the terms he employs, and could not choose his epithets with pro- 
 priety ; because, iu the following lines addressed also to Augustus, lie 
 has failed in that particular, and has ascribed to the Indians a quality 
 which seems, in a manner, to turn his hero into ridicule ! 
 
 i — Et te, maxime Ca?sar, 
 
 Qui nunc, extremis Asite jam victor in oris, 
 Inibelleni avertis Romanis arcibus Indum — Georg. Lib. ii. 
 Editions, B, D & N. 
 
 •> Lib. xvii. 
 
 VOL. III. K
 
 146 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 litest of the Romans, as we learn from Plutarch, * ac- 
 companied with ambassadors from almost all the Greek 
 cities. The ^li^tolian ambassador very abruptly tells 
 the king, that he talked like a fool or a madman (A»ge*y.) 
 * That's evident (says his Majesty), even to a blind 
 man ; ' which was a raillery on the blindness of his 
 excellency. Yet all this did not pass the usual bounds : 
 For the conference was not disturbed ; and Flamininus 
 was very well diverted with these strokes of humour. 
 At the end, when Philip craved a little time to consult 
 with his friends, of whom he had none present, the 
 Roman general, being desirous also to show his wit, as 
 the historian says, tells him, ' That perhaps the reason 
 why he had none of his friends with him, was because 
 he had murdered them all ; ' which was actually the 
 case. Tins unprovoked piece of rusticity is not con- 
 demned by the historian; caused no farther resentment 
 in Philip than to excite a Sardonian smile, or what we 
 call a grin ; and hindered him not from renewing the 
 conference next day. Plutarch, '' too, mentions this 
 raillery amongst the witty and agreeable sayings of 
 Flamininus. 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey apologized for his famous piece of 
 insolence, in saying. Ego et rex meus, I and my king, 
 by observing, that this expression was conformable to 
 the Latin idiom, and that a Roman always named him- 
 self before the person to whou), or of whom, he spake. 
 
 he, render my undertaking prosperous ; and talcing pitj/, along with rae, 
 of the swains ignorant of husbandry, bestow your favourable injlucncc on 
 this work. Had men in tliat age been accnstomed to observe such nice- 
 tics, a writer so delicate as Virgil, would certainly have given a different 
 turn to this sentence. The court of Augustus, however polite, had not 
 yet, it seems, wore off the manners of the republic. 
 
 * In Vita Flamin. '' I'lut. in Vita Flamin..
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. I'l-T 
 
 Yet this seems to have been an instance of want of ci-i 
 vility among that people. The ancients made it a 
 rule, that the person of the greatest dignity should be 
 mentioned first in the discourse; insomuch, that we 
 find the spring of a quarrel and jealousy between the 
 Romans and iEtolians, to have been a poet's naming 
 the ^tolians before the Romans in celebratins: a vie- 
 tory gained by their united arms over the Macedo- 
 nians. " Thus Livia disgusted Tiberius by placing her 
 own name before his in an inscription. " 
 
 No advantages in this world are pure and unmixed. 
 In like manner, as modern politeness, which is natu- 
 rally so ornamental, runs often into affectation and 
 foppery, disguise and insincerity ; so the ancient sim- 
 plicity, which is naturally so amiable and affecting, 
 often degenerates into rusticit}' and abuse, scurrility 
 and obscenity. 
 
 If the superiority in politeness should be allowed to 
 modern times, the modern notions of galkmtri/, the 
 natural produce of courts and monarchies, will proba- 
 bly be assigned as the causes of this refinement. No 
 one denies this invention to be modern : '' But some of 
 the more zealous partisans of the ancients have assert- 
 ed it to be foppish and ridiculous, and a reproach, ra- 
 ther than a credit, to the present age. * It may here 
 be jiroper to examine this question. 
 
 Nature has implanted in all living creatures an affec- 
 tion between the sexes, which, even in the fiercest and 
 most rapacious animals, is not merely confined to the 
 satisfaction of the bodily appetite, but begets a friend- 
 
 '' Plut. in Vita Flamin. "^ Tacit. Ann. lib. iii. cap. Gk 
 
 " In the Sflf-Tormcntur of Terence, Clinias, whenever he comes to 
 town, instead of waiting on his mistress, sends for her to come to him. 
 * Lord Sliaftesbin-y. See his Moralists. 
 
 K 2
 
 118 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 ship and mutual syuipatliy, which runs through the 
 whi)le tenor of their Hves. Nay, even in those species, 
 where nature limits the indulgence of this appetite to 
 one season and to one object, and forms a kind of mar- 
 riage or association between a single male and female, 
 there is yet a visible com])lacency and benevolence, 
 wliich extends farther, and mutually softens the affec- 
 tions of the sexes towards each other. How much 
 more must this have place in man, where the confine- 
 ment of the appetite is not natural, but either is de- 
 rived accidentally from some strong charm of love, or 
 arises from reflections on duty and convenience ! No- 
 thing, therefore, can proceed less from affectation than 
 the passion of gallantry. It is natural in the highest 
 degree. Art and education, in the most elegant courts, 
 make no more alteration on it than on all the other 
 laudable passions. They only turn the mind more to- 
 wards it; they refine it; they polish it; and give it a 
 proper grace and expression. 
 
 But gallantry is as geficrotis as it is natural. To cor- 
 rect such gross vices as lead us to commit real injury 
 on others, is the part of morals, and the object of the 
 most ordinary education. Where that is not attended 
 to in some degree, no human society can subsist. But, 
 in order to render conversation, and the intercourse of 
 minds more easy and agreeable, good manners have 
 been invented, and have carried the matter somewhat 
 farther. Wherever nature has given the mind a pro- 
 pensity to any vice, or to any passion disagreeable to 
 others, refined breeding has taught men to throw the 
 bias on the opposite side, and to preserve, in all their 
 behaviour, tlie appearance of sentiments dillbrent from 
 those to wliich they naturally incline. Thus, as we are 
 commonly proud and selfish, and apt to assume the
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 149 
 
 preference above others, a polite man learns to behave 
 with deference towards his companions, and to yield the 
 superiority to them in all the common incidents of so- 
 ciety. In like manner, wherever a person's situation may 
 naturally beget any disagreeable suspicion in him, it is 
 the part of good manners to prevent it, by a studied dis- 
 play of sentiments, directly contrary to those of which he 
 is apt to be jealous. Thus, old men know their infir- 
 mities, and naturally dread contempt from the youth : 
 Hence well-educated youth redouble the instances of 
 respect and deference to their elders. Strangers and 
 foreigners are without protection : Hence, in all polite 
 countries, they receive the highest civilities, and are 
 entitled to the first place in every company. A man is 
 lord in his own family ; and his guests are, in a manner, 
 subject to his authority : Hence, he is always the low- 
 est person in the company, attentive to the wants of 
 every one, and giving himself all the trouble in or- 
 der to please, which may not betray too visible an af- 
 fectation, or impose too much constraint on his guests. ^ 
 Gallantry is nothing but an instance of the same gene- 
 rous attention. As nature has given man the superiority 
 above 'woman, by endowing him with greater strength 
 both of mind and body, it is his part to alleviate that 
 superiority, as much as possible, by the generosity of 
 his behaviour, and by a studied deference and com- 
 plaisance for all her inclinations and opinions. Bar- 
 
 f The frequent mention in ancient authors of that ill-bred custom of 
 the master of the family's eating better bread, or drinking better -vvine at 
 table, than he afforded his guests, h but an indifferent mark of the civi- 
 lity of those ages. See Juvenal, sat. 5. ; IMin. lib. xiv. cap. 13. ; also 
 Plinii Epist. Lucian de mercude conductis. Saturnalia, &c. There is 
 scarcely any part of Europe at present so uncivilized as to admit of such 
 a, custom.
 
 IjO essay XIV. 
 
 barons nations display tliis superiority, by reducing 
 their females to the most abject slavery ; by confining 
 them, by beating them, by selling them, by killing 
 them. But the male sex, among a polite people, dis- 
 cover their authority in a more generous, though not a 
 less evident manner ; by civility, by respect, by com- 
 plaisance, and, in a word, by gallantry. In good com- 
 pany, you need not ask, who is the master of the 
 feast? The man who sits in the lowest place, and who 
 is always industrious in helping every one, is certainly 
 the person. We must either condemn all such instan- 
 ces of generosity as foppish and affected, or admit of 
 gallantry among the rest. The ancient Muscovites 
 wedded their wives with a whij), instead of a ring. The 
 same people, in their own houses, took always the pre- 
 cedency above foreigners, even ^ foreign ambassadors. 
 These two instances of their generosity and pohteness 
 are much of a piece. 
 
 Gallantry is not less compatible with 'wisdom and pru-^ 
 dcHce, than with nature and generosity ; and, when un- 
 der proper regulations, contributes more than any other 
 invention to the entertainment and improvement of the 
 youth of both sexes. Among every species of animals, 
 nature has founded on the love between the sexes their 
 sweetest and best enjoyment. But the satisfaction of 
 the bodily appetite is not alone suilicient to gratify tlie 
 mind ; and, even among brute creatures, we find that 
 their play and dalliance, and other expressions of fond- 
 ness, form the greatest part of the entertainment. In 
 rational beings, we must certainly admit the mind for 
 u considerable share. Were we to rob the feast of all 
 its garniture of reason, discourse, sympathy, friendship, 
 
 « fke lUlalioii of Thre« Kmbasiiie*, by the Earl of Carlisle,
 
 THE RISK OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 151 
 
 and gaiety, what remains would scarcely be worth ac- 
 ceptance, in the judgment of the truly elegant and lux- 
 urious. 
 
 What better school for manners than the comj^any 
 of virtuous women, where the mutual endeavour to 
 please must insensibly polish the mind, where the ex- 
 ample of the female softness and modesty must com- 
 municate itself to their admirers, and where the deli- 
 cacy of that sex puts every one on his guard, lest he 
 give offence by any breach of decency ? ^' 
 
 Among the ancients, the character of the fair sex was 
 considered as altogether domestic ; nor were they re- 
 garded as part of the polite world, or of good company. 
 This, perhaps, is the true reason why the ancients have 
 not left us one piece of pleasantry that is excellent (un- 
 less one may except the Banquet of Xenophon, and the 
 Dialogues of Lucian), though many of their serious 
 compositions are altogether inimitable, Horace con- 
 demns the coarse railleries and cold jests of Plautus : 
 But, though the most easy, agreeable, and judicious 
 writer in the world, is his own talent for ridicule very 
 striking or refined ? This, therefore, is one consider- 
 able improvement which the polite arts have received 
 from gallantry, and from courts where it first arose. ^* 
 
 3 » 1 must confess that my own particular choice rather leads me tp 
 prefer the company of a few select companions, witli whom I can calmly 
 and peaceably enjoy the feast of reason, and try the justness of every re- 
 flection, whether gay or serious, that may occur to me. But as such a 
 delightful society is not every day to be met with, I must think that 
 mixed companies without tlie fair sex, are the most insipid entertainment 
 in the world, and destitute of gaiety and politeness, as much as of sense 
 3nd reason. Nothing can keep them from excessive dulness but hard 
 drinking, a remedy worse tlian the disease. — Editions B & D. 
 
 i i The point of honour is a modern invention, as well as i;al/nnlri/ ; 
 3nd by some esteemed e<]ually useful for the refining of maiin(.r.i : But
 
 152 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 But to return from this digression, I shall advance 
 it as a fourth observation on this subject, of the rise 
 and progress of the arts and sciences, That "when the 
 arts atid sciences come to ■perfection in any state, from 
 that moment they naturally, or rather necessarily, decliiie, 
 and seldom or never revive in that nation xdiere they 
 formerly flourished . 
 
 It nnist be confessed, tliat this maxim, though con- 
 formable to experience, may at first siglit be esteemed 
 contrary to reason. If the natural genius of mankind 
 be the same in all ages, and in almost all countries (as 
 seems to be the truth), it must very much forward and 
 
 how it has contributed to that effect, I am at a loss to determine. Con- 
 versation, among the greatest rustics, is not commonly infested with such 
 rudeness as can give occasion to duels, even according to the most re- 
 fined laws of this fantastic honour ; and as to the other smaller indecen- 
 cies, which are the most offensive, because the most frequent, they can 
 never be cured liy the practice of duelling. But these notions are not 
 only useless l)ut pernicious. By separating the man of honour from the 
 man of virtue, the greatest profligates have got something to value them- 
 selves upon, and have been able to keep themselves in countenance, 
 though guilty of the most shameful and most dangerous vices. They 
 pre debauchees, spendthrifts, and never pay a farthing they owe; but 
 they are men of honour, and therefore are to be received as gentlemen 
 in all companies. 
 
 There are some of the parts of modern honour which are the most es- 
 sential parts of morality, such as fidelity, the observing promises, and 
 telling truth. These points of honour Mr Addison had in his eye, when 
 he made Juba say, 
 
 Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings, 
 
 The noble mind's distinguishing perfection, 
 
 That aids and strengthens virtue, when it meets her. 
 
 And imitates her actions where she is not : 
 
 It ouglit not to be sported with. 
 These lines are very beautiful ; but I am afraid tliat Mr Addison has 
 here been guilty of that impropriety of sentiment with which he has so 
 justly r'.i>rove(l other poets. Tlie ancients certainly never had any notion 
 pi honour as distinct from vir.tu;. — Kditions B, J) & N.
 
 THE niSE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 153 
 
 cultivate this genius, to be possessed of patterns in every 
 art, which may regulate the taste, and fix the objects 
 of imitation. The models left us by the ancients gave 
 birth to all the arts about two hundred years ago, and 
 have mightily advanced their progress in every country 
 of Europe. Why had they not a like effect during the 
 reign of Trajan and his successors, when they were 
 much more entire, and were still admired ami studied 
 by the whole world ? So late as the emperor Justinian, 
 the Poet, by way of distinction, was understood, among 
 the Greeks, to be Homer ; among the Romans, Virgil. 
 Such admirations still remained for these divine ge- 
 niuses ; though no poet had appeared for many centu- 
 ries, who could justly pretend to have imitated them. 
 
 A man's genius is always, in the beginning of life, as 
 much unknown to himself as to others ; and it is only 
 after frequent trials, attended with success, that he dares 
 think himself equal to those undertakings, in which 
 those who have succeeded have fixed the admiration of 
 mankind. If his own nation be already possessed of 
 jnany models of eloquence, he naturally compares his 
 own juvenile exercises with these ; and, being sensible 
 of the great disproportion, is discouraged from any 
 farther attempts, and never aims at a rivalship with 
 those authors whom he so much admires. A noble ^_ 
 emulation is the source of every excellence. Admira- 
 tion and modesty naturally extinguish this emulation ; 
 and no one is so liable to an excess of admiration and 
 modesty as a truly great genius. 
 
 Next to emulation, the greatest encourager of the 
 noble arts is praise and glory. A writer is animated 
 with new force when he hears the applauses of the 
 world for his former productions ; and, being roused 
 by such a motive, he often reaches a pitch of perfect
 
 154« ESSAY XIV, 
 
 tion, wliicli Is equally surprising to himself and to his 
 readers. ]5ut when the posts of honour are all occu- 
 pied, his first attempts are but coldly received by the 
 public; being compared to productions which are both 
 in themselves more excellent, and have already the ad- 
 vantage of an established reputation. Were Moliere 
 and C'orneille to bring upon the stage at present their 
 early proiluctions, which were formerly so well receiv- 
 ed, it would discourage the yoimg poets to see the in- 
 difference and disdain of the public. The ignorance 
 of the aire alone could have given admission to the 
 Prince of Tyre ; but it is to that we owe The Moo7\ 
 Had Every Man in his Humour been rejected, we had 
 never seen Volpone^ 
 
 Perhaps it may not be for the advantage of any na- 
 tion to have the arts imported from their neighbours 
 in too great perfection. This extinguishes emulation, 
 and sinks the ardour of the generous youth. So many 
 models of Italian painting brought to England, instead 
 of exciting our artists, is the cause of their small pro- 
 gress in that noble art. The same, perhaps, was the 
 case of Rome when it received the arts from Greece. 
 That multitude of polite productions in the French 
 language, dispersed all over Germany and the North, 
 liinder these nations from cultivating their own lan-^ 
 guage, and keep them still dependent on their neigh- 
 bours for those elegant entertainments. 
 
 It is true, the ancients had left us models in every 
 kind of writing, which are highly worthy of admiral 
 tion. But besides that they were written in languages 
 known only to the learned ; besides this, I say, the 
 comjjarison is not so perfect or entire between modern 
 wits, and those who lived in so remote an age. Ilacl 
 Waller been b(»rn in Koni-', during the reign of Ti-^
 
 THE RISE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 155 
 
 berius, his first productions had been despised, when 
 compared to the finished odes of Horace. But in this 
 Island, the superiority of the Roman poet diminished 
 nothing from the fame of the EngHsh. We esteemed 
 ourselves sufficiently happy that our climate and lan- 
 guage could produce but a faint copy of so excellent 
 an original. 
 
 In short, the arts and sciences, like some plants, re- 
 quire a fresh soil ; and however rich the land may be, 
 and however you may recruit it by art or care, it will 
 never, when once exhausted, produce any thing that is 
 perfect or finished in the kind.
 
 I5G ESSAY XV. 
 
 ESSAY XV. 
 
 THE EPICUREAN. " 
 
 It is a great mortification to the vanity of man, that 
 his utmost art and industry can never equal the mean- 
 ' est of Nature's productions, either for beauty or value. 
 Art is only the under-workman, and is employed to 
 give a few strokes of embellishment to those pieces 
 which come from the hand of the master. Some of the 
 drapery may be of his drawing, but he is not allowed 
 to touch the principal figure. Art may make a suit of 
 clothes, but Nature must produce a man. 
 
 Even in those productions commonly denominated 
 works of art, we find that the noblest of the kind are 
 beholden for their chief beauty to the force and happy 
 influence of nature. To the native enthusiasm of the 
 poets we owe whatever is admirable in their produc- 
 tions. The greatest genius, where nature at any time 
 fails him (for she is not equal), throws aside the lyre, 
 and hopes not, from the rules of art, to reach that di- 
 
 ^ Or, The man of elegance and pleasure. The intention of this and 
 the three following Essays, is not so much to explain accurately the sen- 
 timonts of the ancient sects of philosoj)liy, as to deliver the sentiments of 
 ^ Bccts that naturally form themselves in tiie world, and entertain different 
 ideas of human life and happiness. I have given each of them the name 
 of the philosophical tect to which it bears the greatest affinity.
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 157 
 
 vine harmony which must proceed from her inspira- 
 tion alone. How poor are those songs where a happy 
 flow of fancy has not furnished materials for art to em- 
 bellish and refine ! 
 
 But of all the fruitless attempts of art, no one is so 
 ridiculous as that which the severe philosophers have 
 undertaken, the producing of an artificial happiness, ' 
 and making us be pleased by rules of reason and by 
 reflection. Why did none of them claim the reward 
 which Xerxes promised to him who should invent a 
 new pleasure? Unless, perhaps, they invented so 
 many pleasures for their own use, that they despised 
 riches, and stood in no need of any enjoyments which 
 the rewards of that monarch could procure them. I 
 am apt, indeed, to think, that they were not willing to 
 furnish the Persian court with a new pleasure, by pre- 
 senting it with so new and unusual an object of ridi- 
 cule. Their speculations, when confined to theory, 
 and gravely delivered in the schools of Greece, might 
 excite admiration in their ignorant pupils ; but the at- 
 tempting to reduce such principles to practice would 
 soon have betrayed their absurdity. 
 
 You pretend to make me happy, by reason and by 
 rules of art. You must then create me anew by rules ^ 
 of art, for on my original frame and structure does my 
 happiness depend. But you want power to effect this, 
 and skill too, I am afraid ; nor can I entertain a less 
 opinion of Nature's wisdom than yours ; and let her 
 conduct the machine which she has so wisely framed; 
 I find that I should only spoil it by tampering. 
 
 To what purpose should I pretend to regulate, re 
 fine, or invigorate any of those springs or principles 
 which nature has implanted in me ? Is this the road 
 by which I must reach happiness ? But happhiess im-
 
 138 ESSAY XV i 
 
 plies ease, contentment, repose, and pleasure ; not 
 watchfulness, care, and fatigue. The health of my 
 body consists in the facility with which all its opera- 
 tions are performed. The stomach digests the ali- 
 ments ; the heart circulates tlic blood ; the brain sepa- 
 rates and refines the sjMrits : and all this without my 
 concerning myself in tiie matter. ^Mlen by my will 
 alone I can stop the blood, as it runs with impetuosity 
 along its canals, then may I hope to change the course 
 of my sentiments and passions. In vain should I strain 
 my faculties, and endeavour to receive pleasure from 
 an object which is not fitted by nature to affect my or- 
 gans with delight. I may give myself pain by ni}^ fruit- 
 less endeavours, but shall never reach any pleasure. 
 
 Away then with all those vain pretences of making 
 ourselves happy within ourselves, of feasting on our 
 own thouirhts, of bcinsf satisfied with the consciousness 
 of well-doing, and of despising all assistance and all 
 supplies from external objects. This is the voice of 
 pride, not of nature. And it were well if even this 
 pride could support itself, and communicate a real m- 
 "iZard pleasure, however melancholy or severe. But 
 this impotent pride can do no more than regulate the 
 outside^ and, with infinite pains and attention, compose 
 the language and countenance to a philosophical digni- 
 ty, in order to deceive the ignorant vulgar. 7^he heart, 
 meanwhile, is empty of all enjoyment, and the mind, 
 unsupported by its proper objects, sinks into the deep- 
 est sorrow and dejection. Miserable, but vain mortal ! 
 Thy mind be happy within itself ! With w hat resources 
 is it endowed to fill so inmiense a void, and supply the 
 })lace of all thy bodily senses and faculties ? Can thy 
 head subsist without thy other members ? In such a 
 situation.
 
 THE Epicurean. 159 
 
 What foolish figure must it make? 
 Do nothing else but sleep and ake. 
 
 Into such a lethargy, or such a mcLanchol}', must 
 thy mind be pkmged, when deprived of foreign occu- 
 pations and enjoyments. 
 
 Keep me, therefore, no longer in this violent con- 
 straint. Confine me not within myself, but point out 
 to me those objects and pleasures which afford the 
 chief enjoyment. But why do I apply to you, proud 
 and ignorant sages, to show me the road to happiness? 
 Let me consult my own passions and inclinations. In 
 them must I read the dictates of nature, not in your 
 frivolous discourses. 
 
 But see, propitious to my wishes, the divine, the 
 amiable Pleasure, i the supreme love of Gods and 
 men, advances towards me. At her approach my heart 
 beats with genial heat, and every sense and every fa- 
 culty is dissolved in joy , while she pours around me 
 all the embellishments of the spring, and all the trea* 
 sures of the autumn. The melody of her voice charm?? 
 my ears with the softest music, as she invites me to par- 
 take of those delicious fruits, which, with a smile that 
 diff'uses a glory on the heavens and the earth, she pre- 
 sents to me. The sportive cupids who attend her, or 
 fan me with their odoriferous wings, or pour on my 
 head the most fragrant oils, or offer me their sparkling 
 nectar in golden goblets ; O ! for ever let me spread 
 my limbs on this bed of roses, and thus, thus feel the 
 delicious moments, with soft and downy steps, glide 
 along. But cruel chance ! Whither do you fly so 
 fast ? Why do my ardent wishes, and that load of plea- 
 sures under which you labour, rather hasten than re- 
 
 • Dia Voluptas. Lucret.
 
 IGO ESSAY XV. 
 
 tard your unrclcntiiipj pace ? Suffer me to enjoy this 
 solt repose, alter all my fatigues in search of happiness. 
 Sulfer me to satiate myself with these delicacies, after 
 the pains of so long and so foolish an abstinence. 
 
 But it will not do. The roses have lost their hue, 
 the fruit its flavour, and that delicious wine, whose 
 fumes so late intoxicated all my senses with such de- 
 light, now solicits in vain the sated palate. Pleasure 
 smiles at my languor. She beckons her sister, Virtue, 
 to come to her assistance. The gay, the frolic Virtue, 
 observes the call, and brings along the whole troop of 
 my jovial friends. Welcome, thrice welcome, my ever 
 dear companions, to these shady bowers, and to this 
 luxurious repast. Your presence has restored to the 
 rose its hue, and to the fruit its flavour. The vapours 
 of this sprightly nectar now again ply round my heart; 
 while you partake of my delights, and discover, in 
 your cheerful looks, the pleasure wliich you receive 
 from my happiness and satisfaction. The like do I re- 
 ceive from yours ; and, encouraged by your joyous pre- 
 sence, shall again renew the feast, with which, from 
 too much enjoyment, my senses are well nigh sated, 
 while the mind kept not pace with the body, nor af- 
 forded relief to her overburdened partner. 
 
 In our cheerful discourses, better than in the formal 
 reasoning of the schools, is true wisdom to be found. 
 In our friendly endearments, better than in the hollow 
 debates of statesmen and pretended patriots, does true 
 virtue display itself Forgetful of the past, secure of 
 the future, let us here enjoy the present ; and while we 
 yet j)ossess a being, let us fix some good, beyond the 
 power of fate or fortmie. To-morrow will bring its 
 own pk-asures along with it : Or, should it disappoint 
 oui loud wishes, we sliall at least enjoy the pleasure of 
 reflecting on the pleasures of to-day.
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 161 
 
 Fear not, my friends, that the barbarous dissonance 
 of Bacchus, and of his revellers, should break in upon 
 this entertainment, and confound us with their turbu- 
 lent and clamorous pleasures. The sprightly Muses 
 wait around, and, with their charming symphony, suf- 
 ficient to soften the wolves and tigers of the savage de- 
 sert, inspire a soft joy into every bosom. Peace, har- 
 mony, and concord, reign in this retreat; nor is the 
 silence ever broken but by the music of our songs, or 
 the cheerful accents of our friendly voices. 
 
 But hark ! the favourite of the Muses, the gentle 
 Damon strikes the lyre ; and, while he accompanies its 
 harmonious notes with his more harmonious song, he 
 inspires us with the same happy debauch of fancy by 
 which he is himself transported. ' Ye happy youth ! ' 
 he sings, * Ye favoured of Heaven ! ' while the wanton 
 spring pours upon you all her blooming honours, let 
 not glory seduce you with her delusive blaze, to pass 
 in perils and dangers this delicious season, this prime 
 of life. Wisdom points out to you the road to plea- 
 sure : Nature, too, beckons you to follow her in that 
 smooth and flowery path. Will you shut your ears to 
 their commanding voice ? Will you harden your heart 
 to their soft allurements ? Oh, deluded mortals ! thus 
 to lose your youth, thus to throw away so invaluable a 
 present, to trifle with so perishhig a blessing. Con- 
 template well your recompense. Consider that glory, 
 which so allures your proud hearts, and seduces you 
 with your own praises. It is an echo, a dream, nay 
 
 ' An imitation of the Syrens song in Tasso : 
 
 ' O Giovenetti, mentre Aprilc ct Maggio 
 V ammantan di fiorite et verde spoglic, ' &c. 
 
 Giuresalemme Liberata, Canto 14. 
 VOL. III. L
 
 162 ESSAY XV. 
 
 the shadow of a dream, dissipated by eveiy wind, and 
 lost by every contrary breath of the ignorant and ill- 
 judging multitude. You fear not that even death itself 
 shall ravish it from you. But behold ! while you are 
 yet alive, calumny bereaves you of it; ignorance ne- 
 glects it ; nature enjoys it not ; fancy alone, renounc- 
 ing every pleasure, receives this airy recompense, 
 empty and unstable as herself. ' 
 
 Thus the hours pass unperceived along, and lead in 
 their wanton train all the pleasures of sense, and all 
 the joys of harmony and friendship. Smiling Inno- 
 cence closes the procession; and, while she presents 
 herself to our ravished eyes, she embellishes the whole 
 scene, and renders the view of these pleasures as tran- 
 sporting after they have past us, as when, with laugh- 
 ing countenances, they were yet advancing towards us. 
 But the sun has sunk below the horizon ; and dark- 
 ness, stealing silently upon us, has now buried all na- 
 ture in an universal shade. ' Rejoice, my friends, con- 
 tinue your repast, or change it for soft repose. Though 
 absent, your joy or your tranquillity shall still be muie. ' 
 But ixhitlicr do you go ? Or u/iat nexc pleasures call you 
 from our society ? Is there aught agreeable tsoithout your 
 friends ? And can aught please in "vchich 'iSie partake not ? 
 * Yes, my friends, the joy which I now seek admits 
 not of your participation. Here alone I wish your 
 absence : And here alone can I find a sufficient com-t 
 pensation for the loss of your society. ' 
 
 But I have not advanced far through the shades of 
 the thick wood, which spreads a double night around 
 me, ere, methinks, I perceive through the gloom the 
 charming Caelia, tlie mistress of my wishes, who 
 wanders impatient through the grove, and, preventing 
 the appointed liour, silently chides my tardy steps.
 
 THE EPICUREAN. 163 
 
 But the joy which she receives from my presence best 
 pleads my excuse, and, dissipating every anxious and 
 every angry thought, leaves room for nought but mu- 
 tual joy and rapture. With what words, my fair one, 
 shall I express my tenderness, or describe the emotions 
 which now warm my transported bosom ! Words are 
 too faint to describe my love ; and if, alas ! you feel 
 not the same flame within you, in vain shall I endea- 
 vour to convey to you a just conception of it. But 
 your every word and every motion suffice to remove 
 this doubt ; and while they express your passion, serve 
 also to inflame mine. How amiable this solitude, this 
 silence, this darkness ! No objects now importune the 
 ravished soul. The thought, the sense, all full of no- 
 thing but our mutual happiness, wholly possess the 
 mind, and convey a pleasure which deluded mortals 
 
 vainly seek for in every other enjoyment. 
 
 But why does your bosom heave with these sighs, 
 while tears bathe your glowing cheeks ? Why distract 
 your heart with such vain anxieties ? Why so often 
 ask me, Hoxso long my love shall yet endure ? Alas ! 
 my Caelia, can I resolve this question ? Do I hnonso 
 hmso lo7ig my life shall yet endure ? But does this also 
 disturb your tender breast? And is the image of our 
 frail mortality for ever present with you, to throw a 
 damp on your gayest hours, and poison even those joys 
 which love inspires ? Consider rather, that if life be 
 frail, if youth be transitory, we should well employ the 
 present moment, and lose no part of so perishable an 
 existence. Yet a little moment, and these shall be no 
 more. We shall be as if we had never been. Not a 
 memory of us be left upon earth ; and even the fabu- 
 lous shades below will not afford us a habitation. Our 
 fruitless anxieties, our vain projects, our uncertain spe- 
 
 l2
 
 164< ESSAY XV. 
 
 culations, shall all be swallowed up and lost. Our pre- 
 sent doubts, concerning the original cause of all things, 
 must never, alas ! be resolved. This alone we may be 
 certain of, that if any governing mind preside, he must 
 be pleased to see us fulfil the ends of our being, and 
 enjoy that pleasure for which alone we were created. 
 Let this reflection give ease to your anxious thoughts ; 
 but render not your joys too serious, by dwelling for 
 ever upon it. It is sufficient once to be acquainted 
 with this philosophy, in order to give an unbounded 
 loose to love and jollity, and remove all the scruples 
 of a vain superstition : But while youth and passion, 
 my fair one, prompt our eager desires, we must find 
 gayer subjects of discourse to intermix with these a- 
 morous caresses.
 
 THE STOIC. 165 
 
 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 THE STOIC. ■" 
 
 There is this obvious and material difference in the 
 conduct of nature, with regard to man and other ani- 
 mals, that, having endowed the former with a sublime 
 celestial spirit, and having given him an affinity with 
 superior beings, she allows not such noble faculties to 
 lie lethargic or idle, but urges him by necessity to em- 
 ploy, on every emergence, his utmost art and industry. 
 Brute creatures have many of their necessities supplied 
 by nature, being clothed and armed by this beneficent 
 parent of all things : And where their own industry is 
 requisite on any occasion, nature, by implanting in- 
 stincts, still supplies them with the «r/, and guides 
 them to their good by her unerring precepts. But 
 man, exposed naked and indigent to the rude ele- 
 ments, rises slowly from that helpless state by the care 
 and vigilance of his parents ; and, having attained his 
 utmost growth and perfection, reaches only a capacity 
 of subsisting by his own care and vigilance. Every 
 thing is sold to skill and labour ; and where nature 
 furnishes the materials, they are still rude and unfi- 
 nished, till industry, ever active and intelligent, refines 
 
 '' Or the man of action and virtue.
 
 K)6 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 them from their brute state, and fits them for human 
 use and convenience. 
 
 Acknowledge, therefore, O man ! the beneficence of 
 nature ; for she has given thee that intelhgence which 
 supplies all thy necessities. But let not indolence, un- 
 der the false appearance of gratitude, persuade thee to 
 rest contented with her presents. Wouldst thou re- 
 turn to the raw herbage for thy food, to the open sky 
 for thy covering, and to stones and clubs for thy de- 
 fence against the ravenous animals of the desert ? 
 Then return also to thy savage manners, to thy timo- 
 rous superstition, to thy brutal ignorance, and sink 
 thyself below those animals whose condition thou ad- 
 mirest and wouldst so fondly imitate. 
 
 Thy kind parent. Nature, having given thee art and 
 intelligence, has filled the whole globe with materials 
 to employ these talents. Harken to her voice, which 
 so plainly tells thee that thou thyself shouldst also be 
 the object of thy industry, and that by art and atten- 
 tion alone thou canst acquire that ability which will 
 raise thee to thy proper station in the universe. Be- 
 hold this artisan who converts a rude and shapeless 
 stone into a noble metal ; and, moulding that metal by 
 his cunning hands, creates, as it were, by magic, every 
 weapon for his defence, and every utensil for his con- 
 venience. He has not this skill from nature : Use and 
 practice have taught it him ; and if thou wouldst emu- 
 late his success, thou must follow his laborious foot- 
 steps. 
 
 But wlxile tliou amhilionshj aspirest to perfecting thy 
 bodily powers and faculties, wouldst thou meanly ne- 
 glect thy mind, and, from a preposterous sloth, leave 
 it still rude and uncultivated, as it came from the Iiands 
 of nature? Far be, such folly and negligence from
 
 THE STOIC. 167 
 
 every rational beiiij^. \, If nature has been frugal in her 
 gifts and endowments, there is the more need of art to 
 supply her defects. If she has been generous and li- ^ 
 beral, know that she still expects industry and applica- 
 tion on our part, and revenges herself in proportion to 
 our negligent ingratitude. The richest genius, like the 
 most fertile soil, when uncultivated, shoots up into the ^ 
 rankest weeds ; and instead of vines and olives for the 
 pleasure and use of man, produces, to its slothful own- 
 er, the most abundant crop of poisons.) 
 
 The great end of all human industry, is the attain- ^ 
 ment of happiness. For this were arts invented, sci- 
 ences cultivated, laws ordained, and societies modelled, 
 by the most profound wisdom of patriots and legisla- 
 tors. Even the lonely savage, who lies exposed to the 
 inclemency of the elements and the fury of wild beasts, 
 forgets not, for a moment, this grand object of his be- 
 ing. Ignorant as he is of every art of life, he still 
 keeps in view the end of all those arts, and eagerly 
 seeks for felicity amidst that darkness with which he is 
 environed. But as much as the wildest savage is infe- 
 rior to the polished citizen, who, under the protection /., 
 of laws, enjoys every convenience which industry has 
 invented, so much is this citizen himself inferior to the 
 man of virtue, and the true philosopher, who governs ^^ 
 his appetites, subdues his passions, and has learned, 
 from reason, to set a just value on every pursuit and 
 enjoyment. For is there an art and apprenticeship ne- 
 cessary for every other attainment ? And is there no 
 art of life, no rule, no pi-ecepts, to direct us in this 
 principal concern ? Can no particular pleasure be at- 
 tained without skill ; and can the whole be regulated, 
 without reflection or intelligence, by the blind guid- 
 ance of appetite and instinct ? Sure then no mistakes
 
 168 ESSAY xvr. 
 
 are ever committed in this affiiir ; but every man, how- 
 ever dissohite and negh<yent, proceeds in the pursuit of 
 ha})piness with as unerring a motion as that which the 
 celestial bodies observe, when, conducted by the hand 
 of the Almighty, they roll along the ethereal plains. 
 But if mistakes be often, be inevitably committed, let 
 us register these mistakes; let us consider their causes; 
 let us weigh their importance ; let us inquire for their 
 remedies. When from this we have fixed all the rules 
 fof conduct, we are jihilosojihcrs. When we have re- 
 duced these rules to practice, we are sages. 
 
 Like many subordinate artists, employed to form the 
 several wheels and springs of a machine, such are those 
 who excel in all the particular arts of life. He is the 
 master workman who puts those several parts together, 
 moves them according to just harmony and proportion, 
 and produces true felicity as the result of their conspir- 
 ing order. 
 
 While thou hast such an alluring object in view, 
 shall that labour and attention, requisite to the attain- 
 ment of thy end, ever seem burdensome and intoler- 
 able? Know, that this labour itself is the chief ingre- 
 dient of the felicity to which thou aspirest, and that 
 every enjoyment soon becomes insipid and distasteful, 
 when not acquired by fatigue and hidustry. See the 
 hardy hunters rise from their downy couches, shake off 
 the slumbers which still weigh down their heavy eye- 
 lids, and, ere Aurora has yet covered the heavens with 
 her flaming mantle, hasten to the forest. They leave 
 behind, in their own houses, and in the neighbouring 
 plains, animals of every kind, whose flesh furnishes the 
 most delicious fare, and which offer themselves to the 
 fatal stroke. Laborious man disdains so easy a pur- 
 chase. He seeks for a prey, which hides itself from
 
 THE STOIC. 169 
 
 his search, or flies from his pursuit, or defends itself 
 from his violence. Having exerted in the chase every 
 passion of the mind, and every member of the body, 
 he then finds the charms of repose, and with joy com- 
 pares his pleasures to those of his engaging labours. 
 
 And can vigorous industry give pleasure to the pur- 
 suit even of the most worthless prey, which frequently 
 escapes our toils ? And cannot the same industry ren- 
 der the cultivatinsj of our mind, the moderatinc: of our 
 passions, the enlightening of our reason, an agreeable 
 occupation ; while we are every day sensible of our 
 progress, and behold our inward features and counte- 
 nance brightening incessantly with new charms ? Be- 
 gin by curing yourself of this lethargic indolence ; the 
 task is not difficult : You need but taste the sweets of 
 honest labour. Proceed to learn the just value of 
 every pursuit ; long study is not requisite : Compare, 
 though but for once, the mind to the body, virtue to 
 fortune, and glory to pleasure. You will then per- 
 ceive the advantages of industry; you will then be 
 sensible what are the proper objects of your industry. 
 
 In vain do you seek repose from beds of roses : In 
 vain do you hope for enjoyment from the most deli- 
 cious wines and fruits. Your indolence itself becomes 
 a fatigue ; your pleasure itself creates disgust. The 
 mind, unexercised, finds every delight insipid and 
 loathsome ; and ere yet the body, full of noxious hu- 
 mours, feels the torment of its multiplied diseases, your 
 nobler part is sensible of the invading poison, and 
 seeks in vain to relieve its anxiety by new pleasures, 
 which still augment the fatal malady. 
 
 I need not tell you, that, by this eager pursuit of 
 pleasure, you more and more expose yourself to for- 
 tune and accidents, and rivet your affections on exter-
 
 170 ESSAY XV 1. 
 
 nal objects, which chance may, in a moment, ravish 
 from you. I shall suppose that your indulgent stars 
 favour you still with the enjoyment of your riches and 
 possessions. I prove to you, that, even in the midst 
 of your luxurious pleasures, you are unhappy; and 
 that, by too much indulgence, you are incapable of 
 enjoying what prosperous fortune still allows you to 
 possess. 
 
 But surely the instability of fortune is a considera- 
 tion not to be overlooked or neglected. Happiness 
 cannot possibly exist where there is no security ; and 
 I security can have no place where fortune has any do- 
 "minion. Though that unstable deity should not exert 
 her rage against you, the dread of it would still tor- 
 ment you ; would disturb your slumbers, haunt your 
 dreams, and throw a damp on the jollity of your most 
 delicious banquets. 
 
 The temple of wisdom is seated on a rock, above the 
 rage of the fighting elements, and inaccessible to all 
 the malice of man. The rollinfj thunder breaks be- 
 low ; and those more terrible instruments of human 
 fury reach not to so sublime a height. The sage, 
 while lie breathes that serene air, looks down with 
 pleasure, mixed with compassion, on the errors of 
 mistaken mortals, who blindly seek for the true path 
 of life, and pursue riches, nobility, honour, or power, 
 for genuine felicity. The greater part he beholds dis- 
 appointed of their fond wishes : Some lament, that 
 having once possessed the object of their desires, it is 
 ravished from them by envious fortune ; and all com- 
 plain, that even their own vows, though granted, can- 
 not give them hap))iness, or relieve the anxiety of their 
 distracted miiuls. 
 
 But does the sage always pi'cserve himself in this
 
 THE STOIC. ITl 
 
 philosopliical iiulifTerencc, and rest contented with la- 
 menting tlie miseries of mankind, without ever employ- 
 ing himself for their relief? Does he constantly in- 
 dulge this severe wisdom, which, by pretending to ele- 
 vate him above human accidents, does in reality har- 
 den his heart, and render him careless of the interests 
 of mankind, and of society ? No ; he knows that in 
 this sullen Apathy neither true wisdom nor true happi- 
 ness can be found. He feels too strongly the charm 
 of the social affections, ever to counteract so sweet, so 
 natural, so virtuous a propensity. Even when, bathed 
 in tears, he laments the miseries of the human race, of 
 his country, of his friends, and, unable to give suc- 
 cour, can only relieve them by compassion ; he yet re- 
 joices in the generous disposition, and feels a satisfac- 
 tion superior to that of the most indulged sense. So 
 engaging are the sentiments of humanity, that they 
 brighten up the very face of sorrow, and operate like 
 the sun, which, shining on a dusky cloud or falling 
 rain, paints on them the most glorious colours which 
 are to be found in the whole circle of nature. 
 
 But it is not here alone that the social virtues display 
 their energy. With whatever ingredient you mix them, 
 they are still predominant. As sorrow cannot overcome 
 them, so neither can sensual pleasure obscure them. 
 The joys of love, however tumultuous, banish not the 
 tender sentiments of sympathy and affection. They 
 even derive their chief influence from that generous 
 passion : and when presented alone, afford nothing to 
 the unhappy mind but lassitude and disgust. Behold 
 this sprightly debauchee, who professes a contempt of 
 all other pleasures but those of wine and jollity : Se- 
 parate him from his companions, like a spark from a 
 fire, where before it contributed to the general blaze :
 
 172 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 His alacrity suddenly cxtinouishes ; and, though sur- 
 i-ounded with every other means of delight, he loathes 
 the sumptuous banquet, and prefers even the most ab- 
 stracted study and speculation, as more agreeable and 
 entertaining. 
 
 But the social passions never afford such transport- 
 ing pleasures, or make so glorious an appearance in the 
 ej'es both of God and man, as when, shaking off every 
 earthly mixture, they associate themselves with the sen- 
 timents of virtue, and prompt us to laudable and wor- 
 thy actions. As harmonious colours mutually give and 
 receive a lustre by their friendly union, so do these en- 
 nobling sentiments of the human mind. See the tri- 
 umph of nature in parental affection ! What selfish pas- 
 sion, what sensual delight is a match for it, whether a 
 man exults in the prosperity and virtue of his offspring, 
 or flies to their succour through the most threateniuir 
 and tremendous dangers ? 
 
 Proceed still in purifying the generous passion, you 
 will still the more admire its shining glories. What 
 charms are there in the harmony of minds, and in a 
 friendship founded on mutual esteem and gratitude ! 
 What satisfaction in relieving the distressed, in com- 
 forting the alllicted, in raising the fallen, and in stop- 
 ping the career of cruel fortune, or of more cruel man, 
 in their insults over the good and virtuous ! (^But what 
 supreme joy in the victories over vice as well as misery, 
 when, by virtuous example or wise exhortation, our 
 fellow-creatures are taught to govej'n their passions, re- 
 form their vices, and subdue their worst enemies, which 
 inhabit within their own bosoms !y 
 
 But these objects are still too hmited for the human 
 mind, which, being of celestial origin, swells with the 
 divinest and most enlarged affections, and, carrying its
 
 THE STOIC. 173 
 
 attention beyond kindred and acquaintance, extends its 
 benevolent wishes to the most distant posterity. It views 
 liberty and laws as the source of human happiness, and 
 devotes itself, with the utmost alacrity, to their guar- 
 dianship and protection. Toils, dangers, death itself, 
 carry their charms, when we brave them for the public 
 good, and ennoble that being which we generously sa- 
 crifice for the interests of our country. Happy the man 
 whom indulgent fortune allows to pay to virtue what he 
 owes to nature, and to make a generous gift of what 
 must otherwise be ravished from him by cruel necessity. 
 
 In the true sage and patriot are united whatever can 
 distinguish human nature, or elevate mortal man to a 
 resemblance with the Divinity. The softest benevo- 
 lence, the most undaunted resolution, the tenderest sen- 
 timents, the most sublime love of virtue, all these ani- 
 mate successively his transported bosom. What satis- 
 faction, when he looks within, to find the most turbu- 
 lent passions tuned to just harmony and concord, and 
 every jarring sound banished from this enchanting music! 
 If the contemplation, even of inanimate beauty, is so de- 
 lightful ; if it ravishes the senses, even when the fair 
 form is foreign to us ; what must be the effects of moral 
 beauty ? and what influence must it have, when it em- 
 bellishes our own mind, and is the result of our own 
 reflection and industry? 
 
 But 'ivhere is the reward of virtue P Atid what recom- 
 jyense has Nature ptwided for such important sacrifices 
 as those of life and fortune, which we must often make 
 to it P Oh, sons of earth ! Are ye ignorant of the va- 
 lue of this celestial mistress ? And do ye meanly inquire 
 for her portion, when ye observe her genuine charms ? 
 But know, that Nature has been indulgent to human 
 weakness, and has not left this favourite child naked
 
 ITt ESSAY xvr. 
 
 and uneiulowcd. Slie has provided virtue with the 
 richest dowry ; but being careful lest the allurements 
 of interest should en<jao;e such suitors as were insensi- 
 ble of the native worth of so divine a beauty, she has 
 wisely provided, that this dowry can have no charms 
 but in the eyes of those who are already transported 
 with the love of virtue. Glory is the portion of virtue, 
 the sweet reward of honourable toils, the triumphant 
 crown which covers the thoughtful head of the disin- 
 terested patriot, or the dusty brow of the victorious 
 Avarrior. Elevated by so sublime a prize, the man of 
 virtue looks down with contempt on all the allurements 
 of pleasure, and all the menaces of danger. Death 
 itself loses its terrors, when he considers, that its do- 
 minion extends only over a part of him, and that, in 
 spite of death and time, the rage of the elements, and 
 the endless vicissitude of human affairs, he is assured 
 of an immortal fame among all the sons of men. 
 
 There surely is a Being who presides over the uni- 
 verse, and who, with infinite wisdom and power, has 
 reduced the jarring elements into just order and pro- 
 portion. Let speculative reasoners dispute, how far 
 tliis beneficent Being extends his care, and whether he 
 prolongs our existence beyond the grave, in order to 
 bestow on virtue its just reward, and render it fully tri- 
 umphant. The man of morals, without deciding any 
 thing on so dubious a subject, is satisfied with the por- 
 tion marked out to him by the Supreme Disposer of 
 all things. Gratefully he accepts of that farther re- 
 ward prepared for him ; but if disappointed, he tliinks 
 not virtue an empty name ; but, justly esteeming it its 
 own reward, he gratefully acknowledges the bounty of 
 liis Creator, who, by calling him into existence, has 
 thereby afforded him an opportunity of once ac(juiring 
 so invalualile a possession.
 
 THE PLATO N I ST. 115 
 
 ESSAY XVII. 
 
 THE PLATONIST, ' 
 
 To some philosophers it appears matter of surprise, 
 that all mankind, possessing the same nature, and be- 
 ing endowed with the same faculties, should yet differ 
 so widely in their pursuits and inclinations, and that 
 one should utterly condemn what is fondly sought after 
 by another. To some it appears matter of still more 
 surprise, that a man should differ so widely from him- 
 self at different times ; and, after possession, reject with 
 disdain what before was -the object of all his vows and 
 wishes. To me this feverish uncertainty and irresolu- 
 tion, in human conduct, seems altogether unavoidable; 
 nor can a rational soul, made for the contemplation of 
 the Supreme Being, and of his works, ever enjoy tran- 
 (juillity or satisfaction, while detained in the ignoble 
 pursuits of sensual pleasure or popular applause. The 
 Divinity is a boundless ocean of bliss and glory : Hu- 
 man minds are smaller streams, which, arising at first 
 from this ocean, seek still, amid all their wanderings, 
 to return to it, and to lose themselves in that immensi- 
 ty of perfection. When checked in this natural course 
 
 Or the man of contemplation and philosophical devotiono
 
 1T6 ESSAY XVII. 
 
 by vice or folly, they become furious and enraged ; and, 
 swelling to a torrent, do then spread horror and devas- 
 tation on the neighbouring plains. 
 
 In vain, by pompous phrase and passionate expres- 
 sion, each recommends his own pursuit, and invites the 
 credulous hearers to an imitation of his life and man- 
 ners. The heart belies the countenance, and sensibly 
 feels, even amid the highest success, the unsatisfactory 
 nature of all those pleasures which detain it from its 
 true object. I examine the voluptuous man before en- 
 joyment ; I measure the vehemence of his desire, and 
 the importance of his object ; I find that all his happi- 
 ness proceeds only from that hurry of thought, which 
 takes him from himself, and turns his view from his 
 guilt and misery. I consider him a moment after; he 
 has now enjoyed the pleasure which he fondly sought 
 after. The sense of his guilt and misery returns upon 
 him with double anguish : His mind tormented with 
 fear and remorse ; his body depressed with disgust and 
 satiety. 
 
 But a more august, at least a more hauglity person- 
 age, presents himself boldly to our censure ; and, as- 
 suming the title of a philosopher and man of morals, 
 offers to submit to the most rigid examination. He 
 challenges with a visible, though concealed impatience, 
 our approbation and applause ; and seems offended, 
 that we should hesitate a moment before we break out 
 into admiration of his virtue. Seeing this impatience, 
 I hesitate still more ; I begin to examine the motives 
 of his seeming virtue : But, behold ! ere I can enter 
 upon this inquiry, he flings himself from me; and, ad- 
 dressing his discourse to that crowd of heedless audi- 
 tors, fondly annises them by liis magnificent preten- 
 sions.
 
 THE PLATONIST. 177 
 
 O philosopher ! thy wisdom is vain, and thy virtue 
 unprofitable. Thou seekest the ignorant applauses of 
 men, not the solid reflections of thy own conscience, 
 or the more solid approbation of that Being, who, with 
 one regard of his all-seeing eye, penetrates the uni- 
 verse. Thou surely art conscious of the hollowness of 
 thy pretended probity ; whilst calling thyself a citizen, 
 a son, a friend, thou forgettest thy higher sovereign, 
 thy true father, thy greatest benefactor. Where is the 
 adoration due to infinite perfection, whence every thing 
 good and valuable is derived ! "Where is the gratitude 
 owing to thy Creator, who called thee forth from no- 
 thing, who placed thee in all these relations to thy fel- 
 low-creatures, and, requiring thee to fulfil the duty of 
 each relation, forbids thee to neglect what thou owest 
 to himself, the most perfect being, to whom thou art 
 connected by the closest tie ? 
 
 But thou art thyself thy own idol. Thou worshippest 
 thy imaginary perfections ; or rather, sensible of thy 
 real imperfections, thou seekest only to deceive the 
 world, and to please thy fancy, by multiplying thy ig- 
 norant admirers. Thus, not content with neglecting 
 what is most excellent in the universe, thou desirest to 
 substitute in his place what is most vile and contempt- 
 ible. 
 
 Consider all the works of mens hands, all the inven- 
 tions of human wit, in which thou aifectest so nice a 
 discernment. Thou wilt find, that the most perfect 
 production still proceeds from the most perfect thought, 
 and that it is mind alone which we admire, while we 
 bestow our applause on the graces of a well-propor- 
 tioned statue, or the symmetry of a noble pile. The 
 statuary, the architect, come still in view, and makes 
 lis reflect on the beauty of his art and contrivance, 
 
 VOL. iir. M
 
 1*8 ESSAY xvir. 
 
 which, from a lieap of unformcci matter, coirld extract 
 such expressions and proportions. This sirjierior beau- 
 ty of thought and intelli<rence thou thyself acknowledjj- 
 est, while thou inyitest us to contemplate, in thy con- 
 duct, tlic harmony of allections, the dignity of senti- 
 ments, and all those graces of a mind which chiefly 
 merit our attention. But why stoppest thou short ? 
 Seest thou nothing farther that is valuable ? Amid 
 tliy rapturous ap})lauses of beauty and order, art thou 
 still iirnorant where is to be found the most consum- 
 mate beauty, the most perfect order ? Compare the 
 works of art with those of nature. The one are but 
 imitations of the other. The nearer art approaches to 
 nature, the more perfect is it esteemed, liut still how 
 wide are its nearest approaches, and what an immense 
 interval may be observed between them ! Art c(^pies 
 only the outside of nature, leaving the inward and 
 more admirable springs and principles as exceeding 
 lier imitation, as beyond her comjirehension. Art co- 
 pies only the minute productions of nature, despairing 
 to reach that grandeur and ma<rnificence which are so 
 astonishing in the masterly works of her original. Can 
 we then be so blind as not to discover an intelligence 
 and a design in the exquisite and most stujiendous 
 contrivance of the universe? Can we be so stupid as 
 not to feel the warmest raj)tures of worship and adora- 
 tion upon the contemplation of that intelligent Being, 
 so infinitely good and wise? 
 
 The most ))erfect hapj)iness surely must arise from 
 the contemplation of the most perfect object. But 
 what more perfect than beauty and virtue? And where 
 is beauty to be found e(jual to that of the mnverse, or 
 virtue which can be compared to tiic benevolence and 
 justice of tile Deity? If :ujght can diminish the plea-
 
 THE PLATONIST. 179 
 
 sure of this contemplation, it must be either the nar- 
 rowness of our faculties, which conceals from us the 
 greatest part of these beauties and perfections, or the 
 shortness of our lives, which allows not time sufficient 
 to instruct us in them. But it is our comfort, that if 
 we employ worthily the faculties here assigned us, they 
 will be enlarged in another state of existence, so as to 
 render us more suitable worshippers of our Maker ; 
 and that the task, which can never be finished in time, 
 will be the business of an eternity. 
 
 M 3
 
 180 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 ESSAY xviir. 
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 
 
 I HAVE long entertained a suspicion witli regard tor 
 the decisions of philosophers upon all subjects, and 
 found in myself a greater inclination to dispute than 
 assent to their conclusions. There is one mistake to 
 which they seem liable, almost without exception ; they 
 confine too much their principles, and make no account 
 of that vast variety which nature has so much affected 
 in all her operations. When a philosopher has once 
 laid hold of a favourite principle, which perhaps ac- 
 counts for many natural effects, he extends the same 
 principle over the whole creation, and reduces to it 
 every phenomenon, though by the most violent and 
 absurd reasoning. Our own mind beinij narrow and 
 contracted, we cannot extend our conception to the va- 
 riety and extent of nature, but imagine that she is as 
 much bounded in her operations as wc are in our spe- 
 culation. 
 
 But if ever this infirmity of philosophers is to be 
 suspected on any occasion, it is in their reasonings 
 concerning hununi life, and the methods of attaining 
 liappiness. In that case they are led astray, not only 
 by the narrowness of their understandings, but by that 
 also of tlieir passions. Almost every one has a predo-
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 181 
 
 minant inclination, to which his other desires and af- 
 fections submit, and which governs him, though per- 
 haps with some intervals, through the whole course of 
 his life. It is difficult for him to apprehend, that any 
 thing which appears totally indifferent to him can ever 
 give enjoyment to any person, or can possess charms 
 which altogether escape his observation. His own 
 pursuits are always, in his account, the most engaging, 
 the objects of his passion the most valuable, and the 
 road which he pursues the only one that leads to hap- 
 piness. 
 
 But would these prejudiced reasoners reflect a mo- 
 ment, there are many obvious instances and arguments 
 sufficient to undeceive them, and make them enlarge 
 their maxims and principles. Do they not see the 
 vast variety of inclinations and pursuits among our 
 species, where each man seems fully satisfied with his 
 own course of life, and would esteem it the greatest 
 unhappiness to be confined to that of his neighbour ? 
 Do they not feel in themselves, that what pleases at 
 one time, displeases at another, by the change of incli- 
 nation, and that it is not in their power, by their ut- 
 most efforts, to recal that taste or appetite which for- 
 merly bestowed charms on what now appears indiffer- 
 ent or disagreeable ? What is the meaning therefore 
 of those general preferences of the town or country 
 life, of a life of action or one of pleasure, of retirement 
 or society ; when, besides the different inclinations of 
 different men, every one's experience may convince 
 him that each of these kinds of life is agreeable in its 
 turn, and that their variety or their judicious mixture 
 chiefly contributes to the rendering all of them agree- 
 able? 
 
 But shall this business be allowed to go altogether at
 
 182 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 adventures i and must a man only consult his humour 
 and inclination, in order to determine his course of 
 lite, without employing his reason to inform him what 
 road is preferable, and leads most surely to happiness? 
 Is there no difference, then, between one man's con- 
 duct and another? 
 
 I answer, there is a great difference. One man, fol- 
 lowing his inclination, in choosing his course of life, 
 may employ much surer means for succeeding than an- 
 other, who is led by his inclination into the same course 
 of life, and pursues the same object. (Are riches the chief 
 object of your desires P Acquire skillMn your profession ; 
 be diligent in the exercise of it; enlarge the circle of 
 your friends and acquaintance ; avoid pleasure and ex- 
 pense ; and never be generous, but with a view of gain- 
 ing more than you could save by frugality. Woidd you 
 acquire the public esteem ? Guard equally against the 
 extremes of arrogance and fawning. Let it appear that 
 you set a value upon yourself, but without despising 
 others. If you fall into either of the extremes, you 
 either provoke men's pride by your insolence, or teach 
 them to despise you by your timorous submission, and 
 by the mean opinion which you seem to entertain of 
 yourself. I 
 
 These, you say, are the maxims of common prudence 
 and discretion ; what every parent inculcates on his 
 child, and what every man of sense pursues in the 
 course of life which he has chosen. — What is it then 
 you desire more? Do you come to a philosopher as to 
 a cjmni?ig man, to learn something by magic or witch- 
 craft, beyond what can be known by common prudence 
 and discretion? — Yes; we come to a philosopher to be 
 instructed, how we shall choose our ends, more than 
 l-he means for attaining these ends : We want to knovv
 
 THfi SCEPTIC. 183 
 
 whiit desire we shall gratify, what passion we shall com- 
 ply with, what appetite we shall indulge. As to the 
 rest, we trust to common sense, and the general ma- 
 xims of the world, for our instruction. 
 
 I am sorry, then, I have pretended to be a philoso- 
 pher ; for I find your questions very perplexing, and 
 am in danger, if my answer be too rigid and severe, of 
 passing for a pedant and scholastic ; if it be too easy 
 and free, of being taken for a preacher of vice and im- 
 morality. However, to satisfy you, I shall deliver my 
 opinion upon the matter, and shall only desire you to 
 esteem it of as little consequence as I do myself. By 
 that means you will neither think it worthy of your ri- 
 dicule nor your anger. 
 
 If we can depend upon any principle which we learn 
 from philosophy, this, I think, may be considei'ed as 
 certain and undoubted, that there is nothing, in itself, 
 valuable or despicable, desirable or hateful, beautiful 
 or deformed ; but that these attributes arise from the 
 particular constitution and fabric of human sentiment 
 and affection. What seems the most delicious food to 
 one animal, appears loathsome to another ; what affects 
 the feeling of one with delight, produces uneasiness in 
 another. This is confessedly the case with regard to 
 all the bodily senses. But, if we examine the matter 
 more accurately, we shall find that the same observa- 
 tion holds even where the mind concurs with the body, 
 and mingles its sentiment with the exterior appetite. 
 
 Desire this passionate lover to give you a character 
 of his mistress : he will tell you, that he is at a loss for 
 words to describe her charms, and will ask you very 
 seriously, if ever you were acquainted with a goddess 
 or an angel ? If you answer that you never were, he 
 will then say that it is impossible for you to forni a con-
 
 181 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 ception of such divine beauties as those which his char- 
 mer possesses ; so complete a shape ; such well-propor- 
 tioned features ; so engaging an air ; such sweetness of 
 disposition ; such gaiety of humour. You can infer 
 nothing, however, from all this discourse, but that the 
 poor man is in love ; and that the general appetite be-r 
 tween the sexes, which nature has infused into all ani- 
 mals, is in him determined to a particular object by 
 some qualities which give him pleasure. The same di- 
 vine creature, not only to a different animal, but also 
 to a different man, appears a mere mortal being, and is 
 beheld with the utmost indifference. 
 
 Nature has given all animals a like prejudice in favour 
 ^ of their offspring. As soon as the helpless infant sees 
 the light, though in every other eye it appears a despi- 
 cable and a miserable creature, it is regarded by its fond 
 parent with the utmost affection, and is preferred to 
 every other object, however perfect and accomplished. 
 The passion alone, arising from the original structure 
 J. and formation of human nature, bestows a value on the 
 most insignificant object. 
 
 We may push the same observation farther, and may 
 conclude that, even when the mind operates alone, and 
 feeling the sentiment ol' blame or approbation, pronoun- 
 ces one object deformed and odious, another beautiful 
 and amiable ; I say that, even in this case, those qua- 
 lities are not really in the objects, but belong entirely 
 to the sentiment of tiiat mind which blames or praises. 
 I grant, that it will be more difficult to make this pro- 
 position evident, and, as it were, ]ialpable, to negligent 
 thinkers ; because nature is more uniform in the senti- 
 ments of the mind than in most I'eelings of the body, 
 and produces a nearer resemblance in the inward than 
 in the outward i)art of human kind. I'here is some-
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 185 
 
 thing approaching to principles in mental taste; and 
 critics can reason and dispute more plausibly than cooks 
 or perfumers. We may observe, however, that this 
 uniformity among human kind hinders not, but that 
 there is a considerable diversity in the sentiments of 
 beauty and worth, and that education, custom, preju- 
 dice, caprice, and humour, frequently vary our taste of 
 this kind. You will never convince a man, who is not 
 accustomed to Italian music, and has not an ear to fol- 
 low its intricacies, that a Scots tune is not preferable. 
 You have not even any single argument beyond your 
 own taste, which you can employ in your behalf: And 
 to your antagonist his particular taste will always ap- 
 pear a more convincing argument to the contrary. If 
 you be wise, each of you will allow that the other may 
 be in the right ; and having many other instances of 
 this diversity of taste, you will both confess, that beauty 
 and worth are merely of a relative nature, and consist 
 in an agreeable sentiment, produced by an object in a 
 particular mind, according to the peculiar structure and 
 constitution of that mind. 
 
 By this diversity of sentiment, observable in human 
 kind, nature has, perhaps, intended to make us sen- 
 , sible of her authority, and let us see what surprising 
 changes she could produce on the passions and desires 
 of mankind, merely by the change of their inward fa- 
 bric, without any alteration on the objects. The vul- 
 gar may even be convinced by this argument. But 
 men, accustomed to thinking, may draw a more con- 
 vincing, at least a more general argument, from the 
 very nature of the subject. 
 
 In the operation of reasoning, the mind does nothing 
 but run over its objects, as they are supposed to stand 
 in reality, without adding any thing to them, or dinii-
 
 186 KSbAY XVllJ. 
 
 iiishinu: anv tlun<r I'lom ihein. If I examine the Ptolo^ 
 maic and Copernican systems, I endeavour only, by 
 my inquiries, to know the real situation of the planets; 
 that is, in other words, I endeavour to give them, in 
 my conception, the same relations that they bear to- 
 wards each other in the heavens. To this operation 
 of the mind, therefore, there seems to be always a real, 
 though often an unknown standard, in the nature of 
 things ; nor is truth or falsehood variable by the vari- 
 ous apprehensions of mankind. Though all human 
 race should for ever conclude that the sun moves, and 
 ^ the earth remains at rest, the sun stirs not an inch 
 from his place for all these reasonings ; and such con- 
 clusions are eternally false and erroneous. 
 
 But the case is not the same with the qualities of 
 hecnitiful and deformed^ desirable and odious, as with 
 truth and falsehood. In the former case, the mind is 
 not content with merely surveying its objects, as they 
 stand in themselves ; It also feels a sentiment of de- 
 light or uneasiness, approbation or blame, consequent 
 to that survey ; and this sentiment determines it to affix 
 the epitliet beautiful or deformed, desirable w odio2is. 
 Now, it is evident, that this sentiment must depend 
 upon the particular fabric or structure of the mind, 
 which enables such particular forms to operate in such 
 a particular manner, and produces a sympathy or con- 
 formity between the mind and its objects. Vary the 
 structure of the mind or inward organs, the sentiment 
 no longer follows, though the form remains the same. 
 The sentiment being different from the object, and 
 arising from its operation upon the organs of the mind, 
 ' an alteration upon the latter must vary the efl'ect; nor 
 can the same object, presented to a mind totally diller- 
 eflt, produce the same sentiment.
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 187 
 
 This conclusion every one is apt to draw of himself, 
 without much philosophy, where the sentiment is evi- 
 dently distinguishable from the object. Who is not 
 sensible that power, and glory, and vengeance, are not 
 desirable of themselves, but derive all their value from 
 the structure of human passions, which begets a desire 
 towards such particular pursuits ? But with regard to 
 beauty, either natural or moral, the case is commonly 
 supposed to be different. The agreeable quality is 
 thought to lie in the object, not in the sentiment ; and 
 that merely because the sentiinent is not so turbulent 
 and violent as to distinguish itself, in an evident man- 
 ner, from the perception of the object. 
 
 But a little reflection suffices to distinmiish them. 
 A man may know exactly all the circles and ellipses of 
 the Copernican system, and all the irregular spirals of 
 the Ptolomaic, without perceiving that the former is 
 more beautiful than the latter. Euclid has fully ex- 
 plained every quality of the circle, but has not, in any 
 pro})osition, said a word of its beauty. The reason is 
 evident. Beauty is not a quality of the circle. It lies 
 not in any part of the line, 'whose parts are all equally 
 distant from a common centre. It is onlj^ the effect, 
 which that figure produces upon a mind, whose parti- 
 cular fabric or structure renders it susceptible of such 
 sentiments.- In vain would you look for it hi the cir- 
 cle, or seek it, either by your senses, or by mathemati- 
 cal reasonings, in all the properties of that figure. 
 
 The mathematician, who took no other pleasure in 
 reading Virgil, but that of examining iEneas's voyage 
 by the map, might perfectly understand the meaning 
 of every Latin word employed by that divine author ; 
 and, consequently, might have a distinct idea of tlie 
 whole narration. He would even have a more distinct
 
 188 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 idea of it, than they could attain wlio had not studied 
 so exactly the geography ot" the poem. He knew, 
 therefore, every thing in the poem : But he was igno- 
 rant of its beauty, because the beauty, properly speak- 
 ing, lies not in the poem, but in the sentiment or taste 
 ot" the reader. And where a man has no such delicacy 
 of temper as to make him feel this sentiment, he must 
 be ignorant of the beauty, though possessed of the 
 science and understanding of an angel. "' 
 
 The inference upon the whole is, that it is not from 
 the value or worth of the object which any person pur- 
 sues, that we can determine his enjoyment, but merely 
 from the passion with which he pursues it, and the suc- 
 cess which he meets with in his pursuit. Objects have 
 absolutely no worth or value in themselves. They de- 
 rive their worth merely from the passion. If that be 
 strong and steady, and successful, the person is happy. 
 It cannot reasonably be doubted, but a little miss, 
 dressed in a new gown for a dancing-school ball, re- 
 ceives as complete enjoyment as the greatest orator^ 
 who triumphs in the splendour of his eloquence, while 
 
 "' Wure I not afraid of appearing too pbilosopl)ical, I should remind 
 my reader of tliat famous doctrine, supposed to be fully proved in mo- 
 dern times, ' That tastes and colours, and all other sensible qualities, lie 
 not in the bodies, but merely in the senses.' The case is the same with 
 beauty and deformity, virtue and vice. This doctrine, however, takes off 
 no more from the reality of the latter qualities, than from that of the 
 former; nor need it give any umbrage either to critics or moralists. 
 Though colours were allowed to lie only in the eye, would dyers or 
 painters ever be less regarded or esteemed ? There is a sufficient uni- 
 formity in the senses and feelings of mankind, to make all these qualities 
 the objects of art and reasoning, and to have the greatest influence on 
 life and manners. And as it is certain, that the discovery above men- 
 tioned in natural philosophy, makes no alteration on action and conduct, 
 wby should a like discovery in moral philosophy make any alteration ?
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 189 
 
 he governs the passions and resolutions of a numerous 
 assembly. 
 
 All the difference, therefore, between one man and 
 another, with regard to life, consists either in the j'^'s- 
 S1071, or in the enjoyment : And these differences are 
 sufficient to produce the wide extremes of happiness 
 and misery. 
 
 To be happy, the passio7i must neither be too vio- 
 lent, nor too remiss. In the first case, the mind is in 
 a perpetual hurry and tumult ; in the second, it sinks 
 into a disagreeable indolence and lethargy. 
 
 To be happy, the passion must be benign and social, 
 not rough or fierce. The affections of the latter kind 
 are not near so agreeable to the feeling as those of the 
 former. Who will compare rancour and animosity, 
 envy and revenge, to friendship, benignity, clemency, 
 and gratitude ? 
 
 To be happy, the passion must be cheerful and gay, 
 not gloomy and melancholy. A propensity to hope 
 and joy is real riches ; one to fear and sorrow, real 
 poverty. 
 
 Some passions or inclinations, in the enjoyment of 
 their object, are not so steady or constant as others, 
 nor convey such durable pleasure and satisfaction. Phi- 
 losophical devotion, for instance, like the enthusiasm of 
 a poet, is the transitory effect of high spirits, great lei- 
 sure, a fine genius, and a habit of study and contem- 
 plation : But notwithstanding all these circumstances, 
 an abstract, invisible object, like that which natural re- 
 ligion alone presents to us, cannot long actuate the 
 mind, or be of any moment in life. To render the pas- 
 sion of continuance, we must find some method of af- 
 fecting the senses and imagination, and must embrace 
 some historical as well as philosophical account of the
 
 100 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 Divinity. Popular superstitions and observances are 
 even found to be of use in this particular. 
 
 Though the tempers of men be very different, yet we 
 may safely pronounce in general, that a life of pleasure 
 cannot support itself so long as one of business, but is 
 nnich more subject to satiety and disgust. The amuse- 
 ments which are the most durable, have all a mixture 
 of application and attention in them ; such as gaming 
 and hunting. And in general, business and action fill 
 up all the great vacancies in human life. 
 
 But where the temper is the best disposed for any 
 enjoyment, the object is often wanting : And in this re- 
 spect, the passions, which pursue external objects, con- 
 tribute not so much to happiness as those which rest in 
 ourselves ; since we are neither so certain of attaining 
 such objects, nor so secure in possessing them. A pas- 
 sion for learning is preferable, with regard to happi- 
 ness, to one for riches. 
 
 Some men are possessed of great strength of mind ; 
 and even when they pursue external objects, are not 
 nuich affected by a disappointment, but renew their 
 application and industry with the greatest cheerfulness. 
 Nothing contributes more to happiness than such a 
 turn of mind. 
 
 According to this short and imperfect sketch of hu- 
 man life, the happiest disposition of mind is the nirtu- 
 ous ; or, in other words, that which leads to action and 
 employment, renders us sensible to the social passions, 
 steels the heart against the assaults of fortune, reduces 
 the affections to a just moderation, makes our own 
 thoughts an entertainment to us, and inclines us rather 
 to the pleasures of society and conversation than to 
 those of the senses. This, in the mean time, must be 
 obvious to the most careless reasoner, that all disposi-
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 191 
 
 lions of mind are not alike favourable to happiness, 
 aiitl that one passion or humour may be extremely de- 
 sirable, while another is equally disagreeable. And, 
 indeed, all the difference between the conditions of life 
 depends upon the mind ; nor is there any one situation 
 of affairs, in itself, preferable to another. Good and 
 ill, both natural and moral, are entirely relative to hu- 
 man sentiment and affection. No man would ever be 
 unhappy, could he alter his feelings. Proteus-like, he 
 would elude all attacks, by the continual alterations of 
 his shape and form. 
 
 But of this resource nature has, in a great measure, 
 deprived us. The fabric and constitution of our mind 
 no more depends on our choice, than that of our body. 
 The generality of men have not even the smallest no- 
 tion that any alteration in this respect can ever be de- 
 sirable. As a stream necessarily follows the several 
 inclinations of the ground on which it runs, so are the 
 ignorant and thoughtless part of mankind actuated by 
 their natural propensities. Such are effectually ex- 
 cluded from all pretensions to philosophy, and the me- 
 dicine of the mind, so much boasted. But even upon 
 the wise and thoughtful, nature has a prodigious influ- 
 ence ; nor is it always in a man's power, by the utmost 
 art and industry, to correct his temper, and attain that 
 virtuous character to which he aspires. The empire 
 of philosophy extends over a few ; and with regard to 
 these too, her authority is very weak and limited. 
 Men may well be sensible of the value of virtue, and 
 may desire to attain it ; but it is not always certain 
 that they will be successful in their wishes. 
 
 Whoever considers, without prejudice, the course 
 of human actions, will find, that mankind are almost 
 entirely guided by constitution and temper, and that
 
 192 ESSAY XVI I r. 
 
 general maxims have little influence, but so far as they 
 affect our taste or sentiment. It" a man have a lively 
 sense of honour and virtue, with moderate passions, 
 his conduct will always be conformable to the rules of 
 morality : or if he depart from them, his return will 
 be eas}' and expeditious. On the other hand, where 
 one is born of so perverse a frame of mind, of so cal- 
 lous and insensible a disposition, as to have no relish 
 for virtue and humanity, no sympathy with his fellow- 
 creatures, no desire of esteem and applause, such a 
 one must be allowed entirely incurable ; nor is there 
 any remedy in philosophy. He reaps no satisfaction 
 but from low and sensual objects, or from the indul- 
 gence of malignant passions : He feels no remorse to 
 control his vicious inclinations : He has not even that 
 sense or taste, which is requisite to make him desire a 
 better character. For my part, I know not how I 
 should address myself to such a one, or by what ar- 
 guments I should endeavour to reform him. Should I 
 tell him of the inward satisfaction which results from 
 laudable and humane actions, and delicate pleasure of 
 disinterested love and friendship, the lasting enjoy- 
 ments of a good name and an established character, he 
 might still reply, that these were, perhaps, pleasures 
 to such as were susceptible of them ; but that, for his 
 part, he finds himself of a quite different turn and dis- 
 position. I must repeat it, tny philosophy affords no 
 remedy in such a case ; nor could I do an}' thing but 
 lament this person's unhajipy condition. But then I 
 ask, If any other philosophy can afford a remedy; or 
 if it l)e possible, by any system, to render all mankind 
 virtuous, however perverse may be their natural frame 
 of mind? Experience will soon convince us of the con- 
 trary ; and I will venture to affirm, that, perhaps, the 
 
 I
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 193 
 
 chief benefit which results from philosophy, arises in 
 an indirect manner, and proceeds more from its secret 
 insensible influence, than from its immediate applica- 
 tion. 
 
 It is certain, that a serious attention to the sciences 
 and liberal arts soi'tens and humanizes the temper, and 
 cherishes those fine emotions, in which true virtue and 
 honour consists. It rarely, very rarely happens, that 
 a man of taste and learning is not, at least, an honest 
 man, whatever frailties may attend him. The bent of 
 his mind to speculative studies must mortify in him the 
 passions of interest and ambition, and must, at the 
 same time, give him a greater sensibility of all the de- 
 cencies and duties of life. He feels more fully a moral 
 distinction in characters and manners ; nor is his sense 
 of this kind diminished, but, on the contrary, it is 
 much increased, b}'' speculation. 
 
 Besides such insensible changes upon the temper and 
 disposition, it is highly probable, that others may be 
 produced by study and application. The prodigious 
 effects of education may convince us, that the mind is 
 not altogether stubborn and inflexible, but will admit 
 of many alterations from its original make and struc- 
 ture. Let a man propose to himself the model of a 
 character which he approves : Let him be well ac- 
 quainted with those particulars in which his own cha- 
 racter deviates from this model : Let him keep a con- 
 stant watch over himself, and bend his mind, by a con- 
 tinual effort, from the vices, towards the virtues ; and 
 I doubt not but, in time, he will find, in his temper, 
 an alteration for the better. 
 
 Habit is another powerful means of reforming the 
 mind, and implanting in it good dispositions and in- 
 clinations. A man, who continues in a course of so- 
 
 VOL. III. N
 
 194 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 briety and temperance, will hate riot and disorder : If 
 he engage in business or stud}', indolence will seem a 
 punishment to him : If lie constrain himself to practise 
 beneficence and affability, he will soon abhor all in- 
 stances of pride and violence. Where one is thorough- 
 ly convinced that the virtuous course of life is prefer- 
 able ; if he have but resolution enough, for some time, 
 to impose a violence on himself; his reformation needs 
 not be despaired of. The misfortune is, that this con- 
 viction and this resolution never can have place, un- 
 less a man be, before hand, tolerably virtuous. 
 
 Here then is the chief triumph of art and philoso- 
 phy : It insensibly refines the temper, and it points 
 out to us those dispositions which we should endea- 
 vour to attain, by a constant bent of mind, and by re- 
 peated habit. Beyond this I cannot acknowledge it to 
 have great influence ; and I must entertain doubts con- 
 cerning all those exhortations and consolations, which 
 are in such vogue among speculative reasoners. 
 
 We have already observed, that no objects are, in 
 themselves, desirable or odious, valuable or despi- 
 cable ; but that objects acquire these qualities from the 
 particular character and constitution of the mind which 
 surveys them. To diminish, therefore, or augment 
 any person's value for an object, to excite or moderate 
 his passions, there are no direct arguments or reasons, 
 which can be employed with any force or influence. 
 The catching of flies, like Domitian, if it give more 
 pleasure, is preferable to the hunting of wild beasts, 
 like William Rufus, or conquering of kingdoms like 
 Alexander. 
 
 But though the value of every object can be deter- 
 mined only by the sentiment or passion of every indi- 
 vidual, we may observe, that the passion, in pronounc-
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 195 
 
 ing its verdict, considers not the object simply, as it 
 is in itself, but surveys it with all the circumstances 
 which attend it. A man, transported with joy on ac- 
 count of his possessing a diamond, confines not his 
 view to the glittering stone before him. He a\sp con- 
 siders its rarity ; and thence chiefly arises his pleasure 
 and exultation. Here, therefore, a philosopher may 
 step in, and suggest particular views, and considera- 
 tions, and circumstances, which otherwise would have 
 escaped us, and by that means he may either moderate 
 or excite any particular passion. 
 
 It may seem unreasonable absolutely to deny the au- 
 thority of philosophy in this respect : But it must be 
 confessed, that there lies this strong presumption a- 
 gainst it, that, if these views be natural and obvious, 
 they would have occurred of themselves without the 
 assistance of philosophy : if they be not natural, they 
 never can have any influence on the affections. These 
 are of a very delicate nature, and cannot be forced or 
 constrained by the utmost art or industry. A consi- 
 deration which we seek for on purpose, which we en- 
 ter into with difficulty, which we cannot retain without 
 care and attention, will never produce those genuine 
 and durable movements of passion which are the re- 
 sult of natui'e, and the constitution of the mind. A 
 man may as well pretend to cure himself of love, by 
 viewing his mistress through the artificial medium of 
 a microscope or prospect, and beholding there the 
 coarseness of her skin, and monstrous disproportion of 
 her features, as hope to excite or moderate any pas- 
 sion by the artijicial arguments of a Seneca or an 
 Epictetus. The remembrance of the natural aspect 
 and situation of the object will, in both cases, still re- 
 cur upon him. The reflections of philosophy are too 
 
 n2
 
 196 ESSAY XVIIf. 
 
 subtile and distant to take place in common life, or 
 eradicate any affection. The air is too fine to breathe 
 in, where it is above the winds and clouds of the at- 
 mosphere. 
 
 Another defect of those refined reflections which 
 philosophy suggests to us, is, that commonly they can- 
 not diminish or extinguish our vicious passions, with- 
 out diminishinir or extin<i;uishing such as are virtuous, 
 and rendering the mind totally indiflerent and inac- 
 tive. They are, for the most part, general, and are 
 applicable to all our affections. In vain do we hope 
 to direct their influence only to one side. If by inces- 
 sant study and meditation we have rendered them inti- 
 mate and present to us, they will operate throughout, 
 and spread an universal insensibility over the mind. 
 When we destroy the nerves, we extinguish the sense 
 of pleasure, together with that of pain, in the human 
 body. 
 
 It will be easy, by one glance of the eye, to find 
 one or other of these defects in most of those phi- 
 losophical reflections, so much celebrated both in an- 
 cient and modern times. Let not tJic injuries or vio- 
 lence of men, say the philosophers, " ever disconqwse 
 you by anger or hatred. Would you he angry at the ape 
 for its malice, or the tiger for its ferocity ? This re- 
 flection leads us into a bad opinion of human nature, 
 and must extinguish the social affections. It tends 
 also to prevent all remorse for a man's own crimes, 
 when he considers that vice is as natural to mankind 
 as the particular instincts to brute creatures. 
 
 All ills arise from the oider of the universe, isohich is 
 absolutely jicrfect. Would you wish to dislurb so divine 
 
 " I'l.rr. JJc Ira cnltibcndu.
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 197 
 
 an order for the sake of your oicn imrticular interest ? 
 What if the ills I suffer arise from malice or op})res- 
 sion ? But the vices and imperfections of men are also 
 comprehended in the order of the utiiverse. 
 
 If plagues and earthquakes break not heaven's design, 
 Why then a Borgia or a Catiline? 
 
 Let this be allowed, and my own vices will also be a 
 part of the same order. 
 
 To one who said that none were happy who were 
 not above opinion, a Spartan replied, The?i none are 
 happy hut hiaves and robbers. ° 
 
 Man is borii to be miserable ; and is he surprised at 
 any particular misfortune ? And can he give 'way to 
 S07T0W and lamentation tipon account of any disaster ? 
 Yes : He very reasonably laments that he should be 
 born to be miserable. Your consolation presents a 
 hundred ills for one, of which you pretend to ease 
 him. 
 
 You should always have before your eyes deaths dis- 
 ease, poverty, blindness^ exile, calumny, and infamy, as 
 ills which are incident to hu?nan nature. If any one of 
 these ills fall to your lot, you will bear it the better when 
 you have reckoned upon it. I answer, if we confine our- 
 selves to a general and distant reflection on the ills of 
 human life, that can have no effect to prepare us for 
 them. If by close and intense meditation we render 
 them present and intimate to us, that is the true secret 
 for poisoning all our pleasures, and rendering us per- 
 petually miserable. 
 
 Your sorrow is fruitless, and will not change the 
 course of destiny. Very true ; and for that very reason 
 I am sorry. 
 
 " Plui. Lacon. ylpophlheg.
 
 198 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 Cicero's consolation for deafness is somewhat curi- 
 ous. Hox^o many languages arc therc^ says he, 'which 
 you do not understand ? The Punic, Sjmnish, Gallic, 
 Egyptian, Sfc. With regard to all these, you are as if 
 you iccrc deaf, yet you are indifferent about the matter. 
 Is it then so great a misfortiinc to he deaf to one lan- 
 guage more P ^ 
 
 I like better the repartee of Antipater the Cyrenaic, 
 when some women were condoling with him for his 
 blindness : What ! says he, Do you think there are no 
 jdcasurcs iri the dark ? 
 
 Nothing can he more destructive, says Fontenelle, to 
 ambition, and the passion for conquest, than the true 
 system of astronomy. What a poor thing is even the 
 ischole globe iti comj^arison of the infinite extent of na- 
 ture ! This consideration is evidently too distant ever 
 to have any effect ; or, if it had any, would it not de- 
 stroy patriotism as well as ambition ? The same gal- 
 lant author adds, with some reason, that the bright 
 eyes of the ladies are the only objects which lose no- 
 thing of their lustre or value from the most extensive 
 views of astronomy, but stand proof against every sys- 
 tem. Would philosophers advise us to limit our af- 
 fection to them ? 
 
 Exile, says Plutarch to a friend in banishment, is no 
 evil : Mathematicians tell us that the "whole earth is but 
 a point, compared to the heavens. To change one's 
 country, then, is little more than to remove from one 
 street to another. Man is not a plant, rooted to a 
 certain spot of earth : All soils and all climates are a- 
 like suited to him. ' These topics are admirable, could 
 they fall only into the hands of banished persons. But 
 
 •• Tusc. Quest, lil). v. '* Be Exiiio,
 
 THE SCEPl'IC. 199 
 
 what if tliey come also to the knowledge of those who 
 are emploj'ed in public affairs, and destroy all their at- 
 tachment to their native country ? Or will they ope- 
 rate like the quack's medicine, which is equally good 
 for a diabetes and a dropsy ? 
 
 It is certain, were a superior being thrust into a hu- 
 man body, that the whole of life would to him appear 
 so mean, contemptible and puerile, that he never 
 could be induced to take part in any thing, and would 
 scarcely give attention to what passes around him. To 
 engage him to such a condescension as to play even 
 the part of a Philip with zeal and alacrity, would be 
 much more difficult than to constrain the same Philip, 
 after having been a king and a conqueror during fifty 
 years, to mend old shoes with proper care and atten- 
 tion, the occupation which Lucian assigns him in the 
 infernal regions. Now, all the same topics of disdain 
 towards human affairs, which could operate on this 
 supposed being, occur also to a philosopher ; but be- 
 ing, in some measure, disproportioned to human capa- 
 city, and not being fortified by the experience of any 
 thing bettei', they make not a full impression on him. 
 He sees, but he feels not sufficiently their truth ; and 
 is always a sublime philosopher when he needs not ; 
 that is, as long as nothing disturbs him, or rouses his 
 affections. While others play, he wonders at their 
 keenness and ardour ; but he no sooner puts in his 
 own stake, than he is commonly transported with the 
 same passions that he had so much condemned while 
 he remained a simple spectator. 
 
 There are two considerations chiefly to be met with 
 in books of philosophy, from which any important ef- 
 fect is to be expected, and that because these conside- 
 rations are drawn from couniion life, and occur upon the 
 
 /"
 
 200 
 
 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 most superficial view of human affairs. When we re- 
 flect on the shortness and uncertainty of hfe, how des- 
 picable seem all our pursuits of happiness ! And even 
 it we would extend our concern beyond our own life, 
 how frivolous appear our most enlarged and most gene- 
 rous i)rojccts, when we consider the incessant changes 
 and revolutions of human affairs, by which laws and 
 learning, books and governments, are hurried away by 
 time, as by a rapid stream, and are lost in the immense 
 ocean of matter ! Such a reflection certainly tends to 
 mortify all our passions: But does it not thereby coun- 
 terwork the artifice of nature, who has happily de- 
 ceived us into an opinion, that human life is of some 
 imjiortance ? And may not such a reflection be em- 
 ployed with success by voluptuous reasoners, in order 
 to lead us from the paths of action and virtue, into the 
 flowery fields of indolence and pleasure? 
 
 We are informed by Thucydides, that, during the 
 famous plague of Athens, when death seemed present 
 to every one, a dissolute mirth and gaiety prevailed 
 among the people, who exhorted one another to make 
 the most of life as long as it endured. The same ob- 
 servation is made by Boccace, with regard to the 
 plague of Florence. A like principle makes soldiers, 
 during war, be more addicted to riot and expense, 
 than any other race of men. ^ ^ Present pleasure is 
 always of importance; and whatever diminishes the 
 imjiortance of all other objects, must bestow on it an 
 additional influence and value. 
 
 ' ' And it is obscrval)lc, in this kingdom, that long peace, by pro- 
 ducing security, )ias[mucli altered them in tliis particular, and|has quite 
 removed our officers from the generous character yf their profession. 
 £ditio!«.s B and D.
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 201 
 
 The second philosophical consideration, which may 
 often have an influence on the affections, is derived from 
 a comparison of our own condition with the condition 
 of others. This comparison we are continually making 
 even in common life ; but the misfortune is, that we 
 are rather apt to compare our situation with that of 
 our superiors, than with that of our inferiors. A phi- 
 losopher corrects this natural infirmity, by turning his 
 view to the other side, in order to render himself easy 
 in the situation to which fortune has confined him. 
 There are few people who are not susceptible of some 
 consolation from this reflection, though, to a very good 
 natured man, the view of human miseries should rather 
 produce sorrow than comfort, and add, to his lamen- 
 tations for his own misfortunes, a deep compassion for 
 those of others. Such is the imperfection, even of the 
 best of these philosophical topics of consolation. ' 
 
 ■' Tlic Sceptic, perhaps, carries the matter too far, when he limits all 
 philosophical topics and reflections to these two. There seem to be 
 others, whose truth is undeniable, and whose natural tendency is to 
 tranquillize and soften all the passions. Philosophy greedily seizes 
 these ; studies them, weighs them, commits them to the memory, and fa- 
 miliarizes them to the mind : And their influence on tempers which are 
 thoughtful, gentle, and moderate, may be considerable. But what is 
 their influence, you will say, if the temper be antecedently disposed after 
 the same manner as that to which they pretend to form it ? They may, 
 at least, fortify that temper, and furnish it with views, l)y which it may 
 entertain and nourish itself. Here are a few examples of such philoso- 
 phical reflections. 
 
 1. Is it not certain, that every condition has concealed ills? Then why 
 envy any body ? 
 
 2. Every one has known ills ; and there is a compensation through- 
 out. Why not be contented with the present ? 
 
 3. Custom deadens the sense both of the good and the ill, and levels 
 every thing. 
 
 4. Health anil humour all. The rest of little consequence, except 
 these be atFected.
 
 202 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 I sliall conclude tliis subject with observing, that, 
 though virtue be undoubtedly the best choice, when it 
 is attainable, vet such is the disorder and confusion of 
 liuman affairs, that no perfect or regular distribution of 
 happiness and misery is ever in this life to be expected. 
 Not only the goods of fortune, and the endowments of 
 the body (both of which are important), not only these 
 advantages, I say, are unequally divided between the 
 virtuous and vicious, but even the mind itself partakes, 
 in some degree, of this disorder ; and the most worthy 
 character, by the very constitution of the passions, en- 
 joys not always the highest felicity. 
 
 It is observable, that though every bodily pain pro- 
 ceeds from some disorder in the part or organ, yet the 
 
 5. How many other good things have I ? Then why be vexed for 
 one ill? 
 
 6. How many are happy in the condition of wliich I complain ? How 
 many envy me ? 
 
 7. Every good must be paid for : Fortune by labour, favour by flat- 
 tery. Would I keep the price, yet have the commodity ? 
 
 8. Expect not too great happiness in life. Human nature admits it 
 not. 
 
 9. Propose not a happiness too complicated. But does that depend 
 on me? Yes; The first choice does. Life is like a game: One may 
 choose the game : And passion, by degrees, seizes the proper object. 
 
 10. Anticipate by your hopes and fancy future consolation, which 
 time infallibly brings to every affliction. 
 
 11. I desire to be rich. Why? That I may possess many fine ob- 
 jects ; houses, gardens, equipage, &c. How many fine objects does na- 
 ture offer to every one without expense ? If enjoyed, sufficient. If not : 
 See the effect of custom or of temper, which would soon take off the re- 
 lisli of the riches. 
 
 \2. I desire fame. Let this occur : If I act well, I shall have the 
 esteem of all my acquaintance. And what is all the rest to me? 
 
 Tliese reflections are so oljvious, that it is a wonder they occur not to 
 every man. So convincing, that it is a wonder they persuade not every 
 man. JJut, perhaps, they do occur to, and persuade most men, when
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 203 
 
 pain is not always proportioned to the disorder, but is 
 greater or less, according to the greater or less sensi- 
 bility of the part upon which the noxious humours 
 exert their influence. A toothach produces more vio- 
 lent convulsions of pain than a phthisis or a drojisi/. In 
 like manner, with regard to the economy of the mind, 
 we may observe, that all vice is indeed pernicious ; yet 
 the disturbance or pain is not measured out by nature 
 with exact proportion to the degrees of vice ; nor is 
 the man of highest virtue, even abstracting from exter- 
 nal accidents, always the most happy. A gloomy and 
 melancholy disposition is certainly, to our sentiments^ a 
 vice or imperfection ; but as it may be accompanied 
 with great sense of honour and great integrity, it may 
 be found in very worthy characters, though it is suffi- 
 cient alone to imbitter life, and render the person af- 
 fected with it completely miserable. On the other 
 hand, a selfish villain nuiy possess a spring and alacri- 
 ty of temper, a certain gaiety of hearty which is indeed 
 a good quality, but which is rewarded much beyond 
 
 when they consider human life by a general and calm survey : But where 
 any real, aftecting incident happens ; when passion is awakened, fancy 
 agitated, example draws, and counsel urges ; the philosopher is lost in 
 the man, and he seeks in vain for that persuasion which before seemed so 
 firm and unshaken. What remedy for this inconvenience ? Assist your- 
 self by a frequent perusal of the entertaining moralists : Have recourse 
 to the learning of Plutarch, the imagination of Lucian, the eloquence of 
 Cicero, the wit of Seneca, the gaiety of IMontaigne, the sublimity of 
 Shaftesbury. Moral precepts, so couched, strike deep, and fortify the 
 mind against the illusions of passion. But trust not altogether to exter- 
 nal aid : By habit and study acquire that philosophical temper which 
 both gives force to reflection, and by rendering a great part of your hap- 
 piness independent, takes off the edge from all disorderly passions, and 
 tranquillizes the mind. Despise not these helps ; but confide not too 
 much in them neither ; unless nature has been favourable in the temper 
 with which she has endowed you.
 
 204 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 its merit, and when attended with good fortune, will 
 compensate for the uneasiness and remorse arising from 
 all the other vices. 
 
 I shall add, as an observation to the same purpose, 
 that, if a man be liable to a vice or imperfection, it 
 may often happen, that a good quality, which he pos- 
 sesses along with it, will render him more miserable, 
 than if he were completely vicious. A person of such 
 imbecility of temper, as to be easily broken by afflic- 
 tion, is more unhappy for being endowed with a gene- 
 rous and friendly disposition, which gives him a lively 
 concern for others, and exposes him the more to for- 
 tune and accidents. A sense of shame, in an imper- 
 fect character, is certainly a virtue; but produces great 
 uneasiness and remorse, from which the abandoned 
 villain is entirely free. A very amorous complexion, 
 with a heart incapable of friendship, is happier than 
 the same excess in love, with a generosity of temper, 
 which transports a man beyond himself, and renders 
 him a total slave to the object of his passion. 
 
 In a word, human life is more governed by fortune 
 than by reason ; is to be regarded more as a dull pas- 
 time than a serious occupation ; and is more influenced 
 by particular humour, than b}^ general principles. Shall 
 we engage ourselves in it with passion and anxiety ? 
 It is not worthy of so much concern. Shall we be in- 
 different about what happens ? We lose all the plea- 
 sure of the game by our phlegm and carelessness. 
 While we are reasoning concerning life, life is gone ; 
 and death, though j^erhaps they receive liim differently, 
 yet treats alike the fool and the ])hilosopher. To re- 
 duce life to exact rule and method is conmionly a pain- 
 ful, oft a fruitless occupation : And is it not also a 
 ))roo)", that we overvalue the prize for which we con-
 
 THE SCEPTIC. 205 
 
 tend ? Even to reason so carefully concerning it, and 
 to fix with accuracy its just idea, would be overvaluing 
 it, were it not that, to some tempers, this occupation 
 is one of the most amusing in which life could possibly 
 be employed. 
 
 .V
 
 206 ESSAY XIX. 
 
 ESSAY XIX. 
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 
 
 As marriage is an engagement entered into by mu- 
 tual consent, and has for its end the propagation of the 
 species, it is evident that it must be susceptible of all 
 the variety of conditions which consent establishes, 
 provided they be not contrary to this end. 
 
 A man, in conjoining himself to a woman, is bound 
 to her according to the terms of his engagement : In 
 begetting children, he is bound, by all the ties of na- 
 ture and humanity, to provide for their subsistence and 
 education. When he has performed these two parts 
 of duty, no one can reproach him with injustice or in- 
 jury. And as the terms of his engagement, as well as 
 the methods of subsisting his offspring, may be various, 
 it is mere superstition to imagine, that marriage can 
 be entirely uniform, and will admit only of one mode 
 or form. Did not human laws restrain the natural 
 liberty of men, every particular marriage would be as 
 different as contracts or bargains of any other kind or 
 species. 
 
 As circumstances vary, and the laws propose differ- 
 ent advantages, we find, that, in different times and 
 places, they impose different conditions on this import- 
 ant contract. In Ton(|uin, it is usual for the sail-
 
 OF rOLYOAMY AND DIVORCES. 207 
 
 ors, when the ship comes into harbour, to marry for 
 the season ; and, notwithstanding this precarious en- 
 iranrement, they are assured, it is said, of the strictest 
 fidelity to their bed, as well as in the whole manage- 
 ment of their affairs, from those temporary spouses. 
 
 I cannot, at present, recollect my authorities ; but I 
 have somewhere read, that the republic of Athens, 
 having lost many of its citizens by war and pestilence, 
 allowed every man to marry two wives, in order the 
 sooner to repair the waste which had been made by 
 these calamities. The poet Euripides happened to be 
 coupled to two noisy vixens, who so plagued him with 
 their jealousies and quarrels, that he became ever after 
 a professed 'woman-hater ; and is the only theatrical 
 writer, perhaps the only poet, that ever entertained an 
 aversion to the sex. 
 
 In that agreeable romance, called the Mhtory of the 
 Sevarambians, where a great many men and a few wo- 
 men are supposed to be shipwrecked on a desert coast, 
 the captain of the troop, in order to obviate those end- 
 less quarrels which arose, regulates their marriages 
 after the following manner : He takes a handsome fe- 
 male to himself alone ; assigns one to every couple of 
 inferior officers, and to five of the lowest rank he gives 
 one wife in common. 
 
 The ancient Britons had a singular kind of mar- 
 riage, to be met with among no other people. Any 
 number of them, as ten or a dozen, joined in a society 
 together, which was perhaps requisite for mutual de- 
 fence in those barbarous times. In order to link this 
 society the closer, they took an equal number of wives 
 in common ; and whatever children were born, were 
 reputed to belong to all of them, and were accordingly 
 provided for by the whole community.
 
 208 ESSAY XIX. 
 
 Among the inferior creatures, nature herself beinfr 
 tlie supreme legislator, prescribes all the laws which 
 regulate their marriages, and varies those laws accord- 
 ing to the different circumstances of the creature. 
 Where she furnishes, with ease, food and defence to 
 the new-born animal, the present embrace terminates 
 the marriage ; and the care of the offspring is commit- 
 ted entirely to the female. Where the food is of more 
 difficult purchase, the marriage continues for one sea- 
 son, till the common progeu}' can provide for itself; 
 and then the union immediately dissolves, and leaves 
 each of the parties free to enter into a new euirao-ement 
 at the ensuing season. But nature, having endowed 
 man MJth reason, has not so exactly regulated every 
 article of his marriage-contract, but has left him to ad- 
 just them, by his own prudence, according to his par- 
 ticular circumstances and situation. Municipal laws 
 are a supply to the wisdom of each individual ; and, at 
 the same time, by restraining the natural liberty of men, 
 make private interest submit to the interest of the pub- 
 lic. All regulations, therefore, on this head, are equal- 
 ly lawful and equally conformable to the principles of 
 nature ; though they are not all equally convenient, or 
 equally useful to society. The laws may allow of poly- 
 gamy, as among the Eastern nations ; or of voluntary 
 divorces, as among the Greeks and Romans ; or they 
 may confine one man to one woman during the whole 
 course of their lives, as among the modern Europeans. 
 It may not be disagreeable to consider the advantages 
 and disadvantages which result from each of these insti- 
 tutions. 
 
 The advocates for polygamy may recommend it as the 
 only effectual remedy for the disorders of love, and the 
 only expedient for freeing men from that slavery to the
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 209 
 
 females, which the natural violence of our passions has 
 imposed upon us. By this means alone can we regain 
 our right of sovereignty ; and, sating our appetite, re- 
 establish the authority of reason in our minds, and, of 
 consequence, our own authority in our families. Man, 
 like a weak sovereign, being unable to support himself 
 against the wiles and intrigues of his subjects, must play 
 one faction against another, and become absolute by 
 the mutual jealousy of the females. To divide and to 
 govern, is an universal maxim ; and, by neglectmg it, the 
 Europeans undergo a more grievous and a more igno- 
 minious slavery than the Turks or Persians, who are 
 subjected indeed to a sovereign that lies at a distance 
 from them, but in their domestic affairs rule with an 
 uncontrollable sway. ^* 
 
 On the other hand, it may be urged with better rea- 
 son, that this sovereignty of the male is a real usurpa- 
 tion, and destroys that nearness of rank, not to say e- 
 quality, which nature has established between the sexes. 
 We are, by nature, their lovers, their friends, their pa- 
 trons : Would we willingly exchange such endearing 
 appellations for the barbarous title of master and tyrant ? 
 
 In what capacity shall we gain by this inhuman pro- 
 ceeding;? As lovers, or as husbands ? The lover is to- 
 tally annihilated; and courtship, the most agreeable 
 scene in life, can no longer have place where women 
 have not the free disposal of themselves, but are bought 
 and sold, like the meanest animal. The husband is as 
 little a gainer, having found the admirable secret of ex- 
 
 J 4 An honest Turk who should come from his seraglio, where every 
 one trembles before liim, would be surprised to see Sylvia in her drawing- 
 room, adored by all the beaus and pretty fellows about town ; and he 
 would certainly take her for some mighty despotic queen, surrounded by 
 her guard of obsequious slaves and eunuchs. — Editions B, D, N. 
 VOL. III. O
 
 210 ESSAY XIX. 
 
 tinguisliinq every part of love, except its jealoiisy. No 
 rose without its thorn ; but he must be a foolish wretch 
 iiuleed, that throws away the rose and jircserves only 
 the thorn. '' 
 
 15ut llie Asiatic manners are as destructive to friend- 
 ship as to love. Jealousy excludes men from all inti- 
 macies and iamiliarities with each other. No one dares 
 brini^ his friend to his house or tt.ble, lest he bring a 
 lover to his numerous wives. Hence, all over the East, 
 each family is as much separate from another as if they 
 ■were so many distinct kingdoms. No wonder then that 
 Solomon, living like an Eastern prince, with his seven 
 hundred wives and three hundred concubines, without 
 one friend, could write so pathetically concerning the 
 vanity of the world. Had he tried the secret of one 
 wife or mistress, a few friends, and a great many com- 
 panions, he might have found life somew^hat more agree- 
 able. Destroy love and friendship, what remains in the 
 Morld worth accc]:)ting? 
 
 The bad education of children, especially children of 
 condition, is another unavoidable consequence of these 
 Eastern institutions. Those who pass the early part of 
 lile among slaves, are only qualified to be, themselves, 
 slaves and tyrants,* and in every future intercourse, ei- 
 ther with their inferiors or superiors, are apt to forget 
 
 5 5 I would not willingly insist upon it as an advantage in our Euro- 
 peitn customs, what was observed by Mahomet Effcndi, the last Turkish 
 Ambassador in France. We Turks, says he, are great simjiletuns in com- 
 patison oj" the Christians ; we arc at the expense and trouble of /cee]>ing n 
 acrnglio, each in his owa house; hut you case yourselves of this burden^ 
 and have your seraglio in ynur friends houses, Tlie known virtue of our 
 Jiritiah bulies free thein suflicieiitly from tin's imputation ; and the Turk 
 himself, howivcr great a Turk, must oi«-n, that our i\-v\.: conunerce with 
 the fair nex, more than any other invention, embcUisheK, enlivens, and 
 p<jIi>lK'S »oci«.«»y. — Ki>jTiof*s B, D, & N,
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 211 
 
 the natural equality of mankind. What attention, too, 
 can it be supposed a parent, whose seraglio affords hiin 
 fifty sons, will give to instilling principles of morality 
 or science into a progeny, with whom he himself is 
 scarcely acquainted, and whom he loves with so divided 
 an affection ? Barbarism therefore appears, from rea- 
 son as well as experience, to be the inseparable attend- 
 ant of polygamy. 
 
 To render polygamy more odious, I need not recount 
 the frightful effects of jealousy, and the constraint in 
 which it holds the fair sex all over the East. In those 
 countries, men are not allowed to have any commerce 
 with the females, not even physicians, w^hen sickness 
 may be supposed to have extinguished all wanton pas- 
 sions in the bosoms of the fair, and, at the same time, 
 has rendered them unfit objects of desire. Tournefort 
 tells us, that when he was brought into the Grand Seig- 
 nior's seraglio as a physician, he was not a little sur- 
 prised, in looking along a gallery, to see a great num- 
 ber of naked arms standing out from the sides of the 
 room. He could not imagine what this could mean, 
 till he was told that those arms belonged to bodies which 
 he must cure, without knowing any more about them 
 than what he could learn from the arms. He was not 
 allowed to ask a question of the patient, or even of her 
 attendants, lest he might find it necessary to inquire 
 concerning circumstances which the delicacy of the se- 
 raglio allows not to be revealed. Hence physicians in 
 the East pretend to know all diseases from the pulse, 
 as our quacks in Europe undertake to cure a person 
 merely from seeing his water. I suppose, had Mon- 
 sieur Tournefort been of this latter kind, he would not, 
 in Constantinople, have been allowed by the jealous 
 
 o 2
 
 212 ESSAY XIX. 
 
 Turks to be furnished with materials requisite for ex- 
 ercisin<]r his art. 
 
 In another country, where polygamy is also allowed, 
 they render their wives cripples, and make their feet of 
 no use to them, in order to confine them to their own 
 houses. But it will perhaps appear strange, that, in a 
 European country, jealousy can yet be carried to such 
 a hei'rht, that it is indecent so much as to suppose that 
 a woman of rank can have feet or legs. Witness the 
 following story, which we have from very good autho- 
 rity. ' When the mother of the late king of Spain was 
 on he/ i- ad towards Madrid, she passed through a lit- 
 tle town in Spain famous for its manuflictory of gloves 
 and stockings. The magistrates of the place thought 
 they could not better express their joy for the reception 
 of their new queen, than by presenting her with a sam- 
 ple of those commodities for which alone their town 
 was remarkable. The major do)no, who conducted the 
 princess, received the gloves very graciously ; but, when 
 the stockings were presented, he flung them away with 
 great indignation, and severely reprimanded the ma- 
 gistrates for this egregious piece of indecency. K?ioxso, 
 says he, that a queen of Spain has no legs. I'he young 
 queen, who at that time understood the language but 
 imperfectly, and had often been frightened with stories 
 of Spanish jealousy, imagined that they were to cut off 
 her legs. Upon which she fell a crying, and begged 
 them to conduct her back to Germany, for that she ne- 
 ver could endure the operation ; and it was with some 
 (lilficulty they could appease her. Philip IV. is said 
 
 ' Memoirct de lu Cour d'Espanne, par Madame d'Aunoij.
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 213 
 
 never in his life to have laughed heartily but at the re- 
 cital of tliis story. ^'^ 
 
 Having rejected polygamy, and matched one man 
 with one woman, let us now consider what duration we 
 shall assign to their union, and whether we shall admit 
 of those voluntary divorces which were customary a- 
 monfj the Greeks and Romans. Those who would de- 
 fend this practice, may employ the following reasons. 
 
 How often does disjjust and aversion arise after mar- 
 riage, from the most trivial accidents, or from an in- 
 compatibility of humour ; where time, instead of curing 
 the wounds proceeding from mutual injuries, festers 
 them every day the more, by new quarrels and re- 
 proaches ? Let us separate hearts which were not made 
 to associate together. Either of them may, perhaps, 
 find another for which it is better fitted. At least, no- 
 thing can be more cruel than to preserve, by violence, 
 an union which, at first, was made by mutual love, 
 and is now, in effect, dissolved by mutual hatred. 
 
 But the liberty of divorces is not only a cure to hatred 
 and domestic quarrels ; it is also an admirable preser- 
 vative against them, and the only secret for keeping a- 
 
 J S If a Spanish lady must not be supposed to have legs, what must be 
 supposed of a Turkish lady ? She must not be supposed to have a being 
 at all. Accordingly, it is esteemed a piece of rudeness and indecency at 
 Constantinople, ever to make mention of a man's wives bei i e him. * In 
 Europe, it is true, fine bred people make it also a rul. jr to talk of 
 
 their wives : but the reason is not founded on our jealousy. I suppose 
 it is, because we should be apt, were it not for this rule, to become 
 troublesome to company, by talking too much of them. 
 
 The President Montesquieu has given a different reason for this polite 
 maxim. Men, says he, never care to mention their wives in company, lest 
 they should talk of them before people that knoiv them better than they do 
 themselves. — Editions B, D & N. 
 
 * Memoires dc Marquis d'Argens.
 
 914 ESSAY XIX. 
 
 live that love wliicli lirsL united the married couple. 
 The heart of man delights in liberty : The very image 
 of constraint is grievous to it. When you would con- 
 fine it by violence, to what woidd otherwise have been 
 its choice, the inclination immediately changes, and 
 desire is turned into aversion. If the public interest 
 will not allow us to enjoy in polygamy that variety 
 which is so agreeable in love : at least, deprive us not 
 of that liberty which is so essentially requisite. In 
 vain you tell me, that I had my choice of the person 
 with whom I would conjoin myself. I had my choice, 
 it is true, of my prison ; but this is but a small com- 
 fort, since it must still be a prison. 
 
 Such are the arguments which may be urged in fa- 
 j/ vour of divorces : But there seem to be these three 
 unanswerable objections against them. Firsts What 
 nmst become of the children upon the separation of 
 the parents ? Must they be committed to the care of 
 a stepmother, and, instead of the fond attention and 
 concern of a parent, feel all the indifference or hatred 
 of a stranger, or an enemy? These inconveniences 
 are sufficiently felt, where nature has made the divorce 
 by the doom inevitable to all mortals : And shall we 
 seek to multiply those inconveniences by multiplying 
 divorces, and putting it in the power of parents, upon 
 every caprice, to render their posterity miserable ? 
 
 Secondhj, If it be true, on the one hand, that the 
 heart of man naturally delights in liberty, and hates 
 every thinir to which it is confined ; it is also true, on 
 the other, that the heart of man naturally submits to 
 necessity, and soon loses an inclination, when there 
 appears an absolute impossibility of gratifying it. These 
 principKs of human nature, you will say, are contra- 
 dictorv: But what is man but a heap of contradictions !
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND UIVOIICES. 215 
 
 Though it is remarkable, that where principles arc, 
 after this manner, contrary in their operation, they do 
 not always destroy each other ; but the one or the 
 other may predominate on any particular occasion, ac- 
 cordin<j as circumstances are more or less favourable 
 to it. For instance, love is a restless and impatient 
 passion, full of caprices and variations : arising in a 
 moment from a feature, from an air, from nothing, and 
 suddenly extinguishing after the same manner. Such 
 a passion requires liberty above all things ; and there- 
 fore Eloisa had reason, when, in order to preserve this 
 passion, she refused to marry her beloved Abelard. 
 
 How oft, when pressed to marriage, have I said, 
 Curse on all laws but those which love has made : 
 Love, free as air, at sight of human ties. 
 Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies. 
 
 ^nifricndshij) is a calm and sedate affection, conduct- 
 ed by reason and cemented by habit; springing from 
 long acquaintance and mutual obligations ; without jea- 
 lousies or fears, and without those feverish fits of heat 
 and cold, which cause such an aoreeable torment in 
 the amorous passion. So sober an affection, therefore, 
 as friendship, rather thrives under constraint, and never 
 rises to such a height, as when any strong interest or 
 necessity binds two persons together, and gives them 
 some common object of pursuit. ^ ' ^^^e need not, there- 
 
 } ■? Let us consider, then, wlietlier love or friendship should most predo- 
 minate in marriage, and we shall soon determine whether liberty or con- 
 straint be most favourable to it. The happiest marriages, to be sure, are 
 found where love, by long acquaintance, is consolidated into friendship. 
 Whoever dreams of extasius beyond the honey moon, is a fool Even 
 romances themselves, witli all their liberty of fiction, are obliged to drop 
 their lovers the very day of their marriage, and find it easier to support 
 the passion for a dozen of years under coldness, disdain and difficulties, 
 than a week under possession and security. — Editions E, D, N.
 
 216 ESSAY XIX. 
 
 fore, be afraid of drawing the marriage-knot, wliich 'r] 
 
 cliiefly subsists by friendship, the closest possible. The 
 amity between the persons, whei'e it is solid and sin- 
 cere, will rather gain by it : And where it is wavering 
 and uncertain, that is the best expedient for fixing it. 
 How many frivolous quarrels and disgusts are there, 
 which people of common prudence endeavour to for- 
 get, when they lie under a necessity of passing their 
 lives together ; but which would soon be inflamed into 
 the most deadly hatred, were they pursued to the ut- 
 most, under the prospect of an easy separation ? 
 
 In the l/ii?d place. We must consider, that nothing 
 is more dangerous than to unite two persons so. closely 
 in all their interests and concerns, as man and wife, 
 without rendering the union entire and total. The 
 least possibility of a separate interest must be the 
 source of endless quarrels and suspicions. The wife, 
 not secure of her establishment, will still be driving 
 some separate end or project ; and the husband's sel- 
 fishness, being accompanied with more power, may be 
 still more dangerous. 
 
 Should these reasons against voluntary divorces be 
 ^ deemed insufficient, I hope nobody will pretend to re- 
 fuse the testimony of experience. At the time when 
 divorces were most frequent among the Romans, mar- 
 riages were most rare ; and Augustus was obliged, by 
 penal laws, to force men of fashion into the married 
 state ; a circumstance which is scarcely to be found in 
 any other age or nation. The more ancient laws of 
 Rome, whicli prohibited divorces, are extremely praised 
 by Dionysius Halicarnassus. ' Wonderful was the 
 harmony, says the historian, which this inseparable 
 
 • Lib. ii.
 
 OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES. 21T 
 
 union of interests produced between married persons ; 
 while each of them considered the inevitable necessity 
 by which they were linked toj^ether, and abandoned 
 all prospect of any other choice or establishment. 
 
 The exclusion of polygamy and divorces sufficiently 
 recommends our present European practice with re- 
 gard to marriage.
 
 218 ESSAY XX. 
 
 r 
 
 ESSAY XX. 
 
 OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT IN WRITING. 
 
 Fine writing, according to Mr Addison, consists of 
 sentiments which are natural, without being obvious. 
 There cannot be a juster and moz'e concise definition 
 of fine writing. 
 
 Sentiments, wliich are merely natural, affect not the 
 mind with any pleasure, and seem not worthy of our 
 attention. The pleasantries of a waterman, the obser- 
 vations of a peasant, the ribaldry of a porter or hack- 
 ney coachman, all of these are natural and disagree- 
 able. Wiiat an insipid comedy should we make of the 
 chit-chat of the tea-table, copied faithfully and at full 
 length ? Nothing can please persons of taste, but na- 
 ture drawn with all her graces and ornaments, la belle 
 nature ; or if we copy low life, the strokes must be 
 strong and remarkable, and must convey a lively image 
 to the mind. The absurd " naivete of Sancho Panza is 
 represented in such inimitable colours by Cervantes, 
 that it entertains as much as the picture of the most 
 magnanimous hero or the softest lover. 
 
 The case is the same with orators, philosophers, cri- 
 
 " Naivete, a word whicli I liavc Ixjrrowed from the French, and wliich 
 is mucli wanted in our language. — Note in Editions B, D.
 
 OF SIMPLICITY AND HEFINEMENT. 2\d 
 
 tics, or any author who sjieaks in liis own person, with- 
 without introducing other speakers or actors. It" his 
 \ hmguage be not elegant, his observations uncommon, 
 his sense strong and masculine, he will in vain boast 
 his nature and simplicity. He may be correct ; but 
 he never will be agreeable. It is the unhappiness of 
 such authors, that they are never blamed or censured. 
 The good fortune of a book, and that of a man, are not 
 the same. The secret deceiving path of life, which 
 Horace talks oi\ Jul lent is scmila vitce, may be the haj)- 
 piest lot of the one ; but it is the greatest misfortune 
 which the other can possibly fall into. 
 
 On the other hand, productions which are merely 
 surprising, without being natural, can never give any 
 lasting entertainment to the mind. To draw chimeras, 
 is not, properly speaking, to copy or imitate. The 
 justness of the representation is lost, and the mind is 
 displeased to find a picture which bears no resemblance 
 to any original. Nor are such excessive refinements 
 more agreeable in the epistolary or philosophic style, 
 than in the epic or tragic. Too much ornament is a 
 fault in every kind of production. Unconnnon expres- 
 sions, strong flashes of wit, pointed similes, and epi' 
 grammatic turns, especially when they recur too fre- 
 quently, are a disfigurement, rather than any embellish- 
 ment of discourse. As the eye, in surveying a Gothic 
 building, is distracted by the multi})licity of ornaments, 
 and loses the whole by its minute attention to the parts; 
 so the mind, in perusing a work overstocked with wit, 
 is fatigued and disgusted with the constant endeavour 
 to shine and surprise. This is the case where a writer 
 overabounds in wit, even though that wit, in itself, 
 should be just and agreeable. But it connnoniy haj)- 
 pens to such \uilerb., that they seek for their favourite
 
 f 
 
 220 ESSAY XX. 
 
 ornaments, even where the subject does not afford 
 them ; and by tliat means have twenty insipid conceits 
 for one thouglit which is really beautiful. 
 
 Tliere is no object in critical learning more copious 
 than this, of the just mixture of simplicity and refine- 
 ment in writing ; and therefore, not to wander in too 
 large a field, I shall confine myself to a few general ob- 
 servations on that head. 
 
 First, I observe. That though excesses of both kinds 
 are to be avoided, and though a jn-opcr 7)iedium ought to 
 be studied in all itroduciions, yet this medium lies not in 
 a lyoint, but admits of a considerable latitude. Consider 
 the wide distance, in this respect, between Mr Pope 
 and Lucretius. These seem to lie in the two greatest 
 extremes of refinement and simplicity in which a poet 
 can indulge himself, without being guilty of any blame- 
 able excess. All this interval may be filled with poets 
 who may differ from each other, but may be equally 
 admirable, each in his pecular style and manner. Cor- 
 neille and Confrreve, who carrv their wit and refine- 
 ment somewhat farther than Mr Pope, (if poets of so 
 different a kind can be compared together), and So- 
 phocles and Terence, who are more simple than Lu- 
 cretius, seem to have gone out of that metlium in which 
 the most perfect productions are found, and to be guil- 
 ty of some excess in these opposite characters. Of 
 all the great poets, Virgil and liacine, in my opinion, 
 lie nearest the centre, and are the farthest removed 
 from both the extremities. 
 
 My second observation on this head is. That it is 
 very dijficult, if not impossible, to explain by isoords *whbre 
 the just medium lies between the excesses of simplicity and 
 r<fi7iemcnt , or to give any ride by "johich we caii know 
 precisely the bounds between the fault and the beauty. A 
 
 (
 
 OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT. 221 
 
 critic may discourse not only very judiciously on this 
 head without instructing his readers, but even without 
 understanding the matter perfectly himself. There is 
 \ not a finer piece of criticism than the Dissertaiion o?i 
 ! Pastorals by Fontenelle, in which, by a number of re- 
 i flexions and philosophical reasonings, he endeavours to 
 fix the just medium which is suitable to that species of 
 writing. But let any one read the pastorals of that au- 
 thor, and he will be convinced that this judicious critic, 
 notwithstanding his fine reasonings, had a false taste, 
 and fixed the point of perfection much nearer the ex- 
 treme of refinement than pastoral poetry will admit of. 
 The sentiments of his shepherds are better suited to the 
 toilettes of Paris than to the forests of Arcadia. But 
 this it is impossible to discover from his critical reason- 
 ings. He blames all excessive painting and ornament 
 as much as Virgil could have done, had that great poet 
 wrote a dissertation on this species of poetiy. How- 
 ever different the tastes of men, their general discourse 
 on these subjects is commonly the same. No criticism 
 can be instructive which descends not to particulars, 
 and is not full of examples and illustrations. It is al- 
 lowed on all hands, that beauty, as well as virtue, al- 
 ways lies in a medium ; but where this medium is placed 
 is a great question, and can never be sufficiently ex- 
 plained by general reasonings. 
 
 I shall deliver it as a t/ii)-d observation on this sub- 
 ject, T7iat tve ought to he more on our guard against the 
 excess of refinement than that ofsimplicitij ; and that he- 
 cause the former excess is hoth less beautiful, a7id moi-e 
 dangerous tha7i the latter. 
 
 It is a certain rule, that wit and passion are entirely 
 j incompatible. When the affections are moved, there 
 1 is no place for the imagination. The mind of man be-
 
 2'?*i ESSAY XX. 
 
 ii)!,^ naturally limited, it is impossible that all his facul* 
 ties can operate at once ; and the more any one predo- 
 minates, the less room is there for the others to exert 
 tlicir vigour. For this reason, a greater degree of sim- 
 plicity is required in all compositions where men, and 
 actions, and passions are painted, than in such as con- 
 sist of reflections and observations. And as the former 
 species of writing is the more engaging and beautiful, 
 one may safely, upon this account, give the preference 
 to the extreme of simplicity above that of refinement. 
 
 We may also observe, that those compositions which 
 •we 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 di- 
 vested of that elegance of expression, and harmony of 
 numbers, with which it is clothed. If the merit of the 
 composition lie in a point of wit, it may strike at first; 
 but the mind anticipates the thought in the second per- 
 usal, and is no longer afiected by it. When I read an 
 epigram of Martial, the first line recals the whole; and 
 1 have no j)leasure in repeating to myself what 1 know 
 already. But each line, each word in Catullus has its 
 merit, and I am never tired with the perusal of him. 
 It is sufficient to run over Cowley once ; but Parnell, 
 after the fiftieth reading, is as fresh as at the first. Be- 
 sides it is with books as with women, where a certain 
 plainness of manner and of dress is more eniran-inL'' than 
 tliat glare of paint, and airs, and apparel, which may 
 dazzle the eye, but reaches not the affections. Terence 
 is a modest and bashful beauty, to whom we grant every 
 thing, because he assumes nothing, and whose purity 
 and nature make a durable, though not a vi(^lenl im- 
 pression f)n u^. 
 
 But rcfinejiient, as it is the less beaut/////, so is it the
 
 OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT. 223 
 
 more dajigerous extreme, and what we are the aptest to 
 fall into. Simplicity passes for dulness, when it is not 
 accompanied with great elegance and propriety. On 
 the contrary, there is something surprising in a blaze of 
 M it and conceit. Ordinary readers are mightily struck 
 with it, and falsely imagine it to be the most difficult, 
 as well as the most excellent way of writing. Seneca 
 abounds with agreeable faults, says Quintilian, ahundat 
 dulcibus vitiis ; and for that reason is the more danger- 
 ous, 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 ex- . 
 treme which men are the most apt to fall into, after 
 learning has made some progress, and after eminent 
 writers have appeared in every species of composition. 
 The endeavour to please by novelty leads men wide of 
 simplicity and nature, and fills their writings with af- 
 fectation and conceit. It was thus the Asiatic eloquence 
 degenerated so much from the Attic. It was 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 dege- 
 neracy of taste in France, as well as in England.
 
 224 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 ESSAY XXL 
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 
 
 The vulgar are apt to carry all national characters 
 to extremes ; and, having once established it as a prin- 
 ciple that any people are knavish, or cowardly, or ig- 
 norant, they will admit of no exception, but compre- 
 hend every individual 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 manners, and that some particular 
 qualities are more frequently to be met with among one 
 people than among their neighbours. The common 
 people in Switzerland have probably more honesty than 
 those of the same rank in Ireland ; and every prudent 
 man will, from that circumstance alone, make a differ- 
 ence in the trust which he reposes in each. We have 
 reason to expect greater wit and gaiety in a Frenchman 
 than in a Spaniard, though Cervantes was born in 
 Spain. An Englishman will naturally be supposed to 
 liave more knowledge than a Dane, though Tycho 
 Brahe was a native of Denmark. 
 
 IJifferent reasons are assigned for these national cha- 
 racters ; while some account for them from moral^ others 
 from phjsical causes. By moral causes, I mean all cir- 
 cumstances which are fitted to work on the mind as
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 225 
 
 motives or reasons, and which render a peculiar set of 
 manners habitual to us. Of this kind are, the nature /^ 
 of the government, the revolutions of public affairs, 
 the plenty or penury in which the people live, the si- 
 tuation of the nation with regard to its neighbours, and 
 such like circumstances. By jihj&ical causes, I mean 
 those qualities of the air and climate which are suppos- 
 ed to work insensibly on the temper, by altering the 
 tone and habit of the body, and giving a particular com- 
 plexion, which, though reflection and reason may some- 
 times overcome it, will yet prevail among the generality 
 of mankind, and have an influence on their manners. 
 
 That the character of a nation will much depend on 
 moral causes, must be evident to the most superficial 
 observer; since a nation is nothing but a collection of 
 individuals, and the manners of individuals are fre- 
 quently determined by these causes. As poverty and 
 hard labour debase the minds of the common people, 
 and render them unfit for any science and ingenious 
 profession, so, where any government becomes very 
 oppressive to all its subjects, it must have a proportion- 
 al effect on their temper and genius, and must banish 
 all the liberal arts from amono- them. 
 
 The same principle of moral causes fixes the charac- 
 ter of different .professions, and alters even that dispo- 
 sition which the particular members receive from the 
 liand of nature. A soldier and a priest are different 
 characters, in all nations, and all ages ; and this dif- 
 ference is founded on circumstances whose operation is 
 eternal and unalterable. 
 
 The uncertainty of their life makes soldiers lavish 
 and generous, as well as brave : Their idleness, to- 
 gether with the large societies which they form in 
 camps or garrisons, inclines them to pleasure and gal- 
 
 VOL. III. p
 
 220 ESSAY xxr. 
 
 lantry : By their frequent change oi' company, they 
 acquire good breeding and an openness of behaviour : 
 Behig employed only against a public iind an open ene- 
 my, they become candid, honest, and undesigning: And 
 as they use more the labour of the body than that of the 
 mind, they are commonly thoughtless and ignorant. " 
 
 It is a trite, but not altogether a false maxim, that 
 prics/s of all religions are the same ,• and though the 
 character of the profession will not, in every instance, 
 prevail over the personal character, yet it is sure al- 
 ways to predominate with the greater number. For as 
 chemists observe, that spirits, when raised to a certain 
 height, are all the same, from whatever materials they 
 be extracted ; so these men, being elevated above hu- 
 manity, acquire a uniform character, which is entirely 
 their own, and which, in my opinion, is, generally 
 speaking, not the most amiable that is to be met with 
 in human society. It is, in most points, opposite to 
 that of a soldier ; as is the way of life from which it 
 is derived. ^ 
 
 * It is a saying of Monander, Ko^4,i( a-pccTtuTH(, W d'v tl TrxdrTti Qtoc 
 OuSfTf yi^oiT oiv. IVIcn. apud Stoba;um. It is not in the power even of 
 God to make a polite soldier. The contrary obsei'vation with regard to 
 the manners of soldiers takes place in our days. This seems to me a 
 presumption, that the ancients owed all their refinement and civility to 
 books and study ; for which, indeed, a soldier's life is not so well calcu- 
 lated. Company and the world is their sphere. And if there be any 
 politeness to be learned from company, they will certainly have a consi- 
 derable share of it. 
 
 ^ Though all mankind have a strong propensity to religion at certain 
 times and in certain dispositions, yet are there few or none who have it 
 to that degree, and with that constancy, which is requisite to suj)port the 
 character of this i)r<)fession. It must tliereforc liaiijicn, that clergymen, 
 being drawn from the common mass of mankind, as people are to other 
 employments, by the views of profit, the greater part, though no atlieists 
 or free-thinkers, will find it necessary, on particular occasions, to feign
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 227 
 
 As to jihysical causes, I am inclined to doubt alto- 
 gether of their operation in this particular ; nor do I 
 think that men owe any thing of their temper or ge- 
 nius to the air, food, or climate. I confess, that the 
 contrary opinion may justly, at first sight, seem pro- 
 
 more devotion than they are at that time possessed of, and to maintain 
 the appearance of fervour and seriousness, even when jaded with the ex- 
 ercises of their religion, or when they have their minds engaged in the 
 common occupations of life. They must not, like the rest of the world, 
 give scope to their natural movements and sentiments : They must set a 
 guard over their looks, and words, and actions : And in order to support 
 tlie veneration paid them by the multitude, they must not only keep a 
 remarkable reserve, but must promote the spirit of superstition, by a con- 
 tinued grimace and hypocrisy. This dissimulation often destroys the 
 candour and ingenuity of tlieir temper, and makes an irreparable breach 
 in their character. 
 
 If by chance any of them be possessed of a temper more susceptible 
 of devotion than usual, so that he has but little occasion for hypocrisy to 
 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 mo- 
 rality, that frequently he is not more virtuous than the hypocrite. And 
 though few dare openly avow those exploded opinions, that every thing 
 is laivfid to the saints, and that they alone have property in their goods ; 
 yet may we observe, that these principles lurk in every bosom, and re- 
 present a zeal for religious observances as so great a merit, that it may 
 compensate for many vices and enormities. This observation is so com- 
 mon, that all prudent men are on their guard when they meet with any 
 extraordinary appearance of religion ; though at the same time they con- 
 fess, that there are many exceptions to this general rule, and that probity 
 and superstition, or even probity and fanaticism, are not altogether and 
 in eveiy instance incompatible. 
 
 Most men are ambitious ; but the ambition of other men may com- 
 monly be satisfied by excelling in their particular profession, 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 pious frauds. And having got what Archimedes only want- 
 ed, (namely, another world, on which he could fix his engines), no 
 wonder they move this world at their pleasure. 
 
 Most men have an overweening conceit of themselves ; but these have 
 
 p 2
 
 228 ESSAY xxr. 
 
 bablc ; since we find, thtit these circumstances have 
 an inlhicnce over every other animal, and that even 
 those creatures, which are fitted to live in all climates, 
 such as dogs, horses, &c. do not attain the same per* 
 lection in all. The courage of bull-dogs and game- 
 
 a peculiar temptation to that vice, who arc regarded with such venera" 
 tion, and are even deemed sacred, by the ignora-nt multitude. 
 
 ISfost men are a|)t to bear a particular regard for members of their own 
 profession ; but as a lawyer, or physician, or merchant, does each of 
 tliem follow out his business apart, the interests of men of these profes- 
 sions are not so closely united as the interests of clergymen of the same 
 religion ; where the whole body gains by the veneration p:iid to their 
 common tenets, and by the suppres-iion of antagonists. 
 
 Few men can bear contradiction with i)atience; but the cJergy 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 tliey alone pretend to a divine and supernatural authority, or 
 have any colour for representing tlieir antagonists as impious and pro- 
 fane. Tlie Odium T/wiito^icum, or 'ilieological Hatred, is noted even to a 
 proverb, and means that degree of rancour wliich 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 coml)at, they are apt to 
 fancy themselves despised on that account; and their pride supports their 
 vindictive disposition. 
 
 Thus many of the vices of luiman nature are, by fixed moral causes', 
 inflamerl in that profession; and though several individuals escape the 
 contagion, yet all wise governments will be on their guard against tlie 
 attempts of a society, who uill for ever combine into one faction; and 
 while it acts as a society, will for ever be actuated by ambition, pride; 
 revenge, and a persecuting spirit. 
 
 The temper of religion is grave and serious ; and this is the character 
 required of priests, which confines them to strict rules of decency, and 
 commonly prevents irregularity and intemperance amongst them. The 
 gaiety, much less the excesses of jjleasure, is not permitted in that bod j ; 
 and this virtue is, perhaps, the only one which they owe to their profes- 
 sion. In religions indeed, founded on speculative principles, and where 
 public disLOursts miilce a part of religious service, it may also be sup{>os-^
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 229 
 
 cocks seems peculiar to England. Flanders is remark- 
 able for large and heavy horses : Spain for horses 
 light, and of good mettle. And any breed of these 
 creatures, transplanted from one country to another, 
 will soon lose the qualities which they derived from 
 their native climate. It may be asked, why not the 
 same with men ? '' 
 
 There are few questions more curious than this, or 
 which will oftener occur in our inquiries concerning 
 human affairs ; and therefore it may be proper to give 
 it a full examination. 
 
 The human mind is of a very imitative nature ; nor 
 
 ed 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 who- 
 ever possesses the other noble virtues of humanity, meekness, and mode- 
 ration, 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 old Romans, for preventing the strong 
 effect of the priestly character, to make it a law, that no one should be 
 received into the sacerdotal office till he was past fifty years of age.^ 
 Dion. Hal. lib .i. The living a layman till that age, it is presumed, would 
 be able to fix the character. 
 
 ^ Ca;sar (r/e Bdlo Gallico, lib. 1.) says, that the Gallic horses were 
 very good, the German very bad. We find in lib. vii. that lie was oblig- 
 ed to remount some German cavalry with Gallic horses. At present no 
 part of Europe has so bad horses of all kinds as France : but Germany- 
 abounds with excellent war-horses. This may beget a little suspicion, 
 that even animals depend not on the climate, but on the diflcrent breeds, 
 and on the skill and care in rearing them. Tlie north of England 
 abounds in the best horses 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. Strabo, lib. ii. rejects, in a great mea- 
 sure, the influence of climates ujion men. All is custom and education, 
 says he. It is not from nature that the Athenians are learned, the Lace- 
 demonians ignorant, and the Thebans too, who are still nearer neigh- 
 bours to the former. Even the difference of animals, he adds, depends 
 not on climate.
 
 230 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 is it possible for any set of men to converse often to- 
 gether, without acquiring a similitude of manner, and 
 communicatin<r to each other their vices as well as vir- 
 tues. The propensity to company and society is strong 
 in all rational creatures ; and the same disposition, 
 which gives us this propensity, makes us enter deeply 
 into each other's sentiments, and causes like passions 
 and inclinations to run, as it were, by contagion, 
 through the whole club or knot of companions. Where 
 a number of men are united into one political body, 
 the occasions of their intercourse must be so frequent 
 for defence, commerce and government, that, together 
 with the same speech or language, they must acquire 
 a resemblance in their manners, and have a common 
 or national character, as well as a personal one, pecu- 
 liar to each individual. Now, though nature produces 
 all kinds of temper and understanding in great abun- 
 dance, it does not follow, that she always produces 
 them in like proportions, and that in every society the 
 ingredients of industry and indolence, valour and cow- 
 ardice, humanity and brutality, wisdom and folly, will 
 be mixed after the same manner. In the infancy of 
 society, if any of these dispositions be found in greater 
 abundance than the rest, it will naturally prevail in the 
 composition, and give a tincture to the national cha- 
 racter. Or, should it be asserted that no species of 
 temjier can reasonably be presumed to predominate, 
 even in those contracted societies, and that the same 
 proportions will always be preserved in the mixture ; 
 yet surely the persons in credit and authority, being 
 still a more contracted body, cannot always be presumed 
 to be of the same character ; and their influence on the 
 manners of the people must, at all times, be very con- 
 siderable. If, on the first establishment of a republic,
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 231 
 
 a Brutus should be placed in authority, and be trans- 
 ported with such an enthusiasm for liberty and public 
 good, as to overlook all the ties of nature, as well as 
 private interest, such an illustrious example will natur- 
 ally 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 d3'e ; 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 charac- 
 ters, where they depend not on fixed moral causes, 
 proceed from such accidents as these, and that physi- 
 cal causes have no discernible operation on the hu- 
 man 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 sym- 
 pathy or contagion of manners, none of the influence 
 of air or climate. 
 
 First, We may observe, that where a very exten- 
 sive government has been established for many cen- 
 turies, it spreads a national character over the whole 
 empire, and communicates to every part a similarity of 
 manners. Thus the Chinese have the greatest unifor- 
 mity of character imaginable, though the air and cli- 
 mate, in different parts of those vast dominions, admit 
 of very considerable variations. 
 
 Secondlij, In small governments which are contigu- 
 ous, the people have, notwithstanding, a different cha- 
 racter, and are often as distinguishable in their man- 
 ners as the most distant nations. Athens and Thebes 
 were but a short day's journey from each other, though 
 
 /^ 
 
 /■
 
 232 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 the Athenians were as remarkable for ingenuity, polite- 
 Dess antl gaiely, as the Tiiebans for chdncss, rusticity, 
 and a plilcgmatic temper. Plutarch, discoursing of tiie 
 effects of air on the n^inds of men, observes, that the 
 inliabitants of the Pira;um possessed very different 
 tempers from those of the higher town in Athens, 
 whicli was distant about four miles from the former : 
 But I l>elieve no one attributes the difference of man- 
 ners, in Wapj)ing and 8t James's, to a difference of 
 air or climate. 
 
 Thirdly, The same national character commonly fol- 
 lows the authority of government to a precise boun- 
 dary; and upon crossing a I'iver or passing a moun-. 
 tain, one finds a new set of manners, with a new go- 
 vernment. The Languedocians 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 
 tlie limits of an empire, which depends so nnich on the 
 accidents of battles, negociations and marriages ? 
 
 Fourthh), \\'here any set of men, scattered over dis- 
 tant nations, maintain a close society or communication 
 together, they acquire a similitude of manners, and have 
 but little in common with the nations amongst whom 
 thev live. Thus the Jews in Euroj^e, and the Arme- 
 nians in the East, have a peculiar character ; and the 
 former are as much noted for fraud as the latter for 
 probitv. " Tiie Jesuits,, in all Roman Catholic coun- 
 
 * A small sect or society amidst a greater, are commonly most regular 
 in tlieir morals ; because they are more remarked, and the faults of indi- 
 viduals draw dishonoui on the wliole. 'J'he only excepSion to this rule 
 is, when the superstition and jirejudices of llie large society are so 
 strong as to throw »n infamy on the smaller society, independent of their 
 morals. For in that case, having no character either to save or gain, 
 Ihey bscome careless of their behaviour, except among themselves.
 
 OF NATIONAL CHAHACTENS. 233 
 
 tries, are also observed to have a character peculiar to 
 themselves. 
 
 FiftJilij, Where any accident, as a difference in Ian-- 
 guage or religion, keeps two nations, ijihabiting the 
 same country, from mixing with each other, they will 
 preserve, during several centuries, a distinct and even 
 opposite set of manners. The integrity, gravity, and 
 bravery of the Turks, form an exact contrast to the 
 deceit, levity, and cowardice of the modern Greeks. 
 
 S'torthli/, The same set of manners will follow a na- 
 tion, and adhere to them over the whole globe, as well 
 as the same laws and language. The Spanish, Eng- 
 lish, French and Dutch colonies, are all distinguish- 
 able even between the tropics. 
 
 Seventhly^ The manners of a people change very 
 considerably from one age to another, either by great 
 alterations in their government, by the mixtures of 
 new people, or by that inconstancy to which all hu- 
 man affairs are subject. The jngenuity, industry, and 
 activity of the ancient Greeks, have nothing in com- 
 mon with the stupidity and indolence of the present in- 
 habitants of those regions. Candour, bravery, and love 
 of liberty, formed the character of the ancient Romans, 
 as subtilty, cowardice, and a slavish disposition, do that 
 of the modern. The old Spaniards were restless, tur- 
 bulent, and so addicted to war, that many of them kill-, 
 ed themselves when deprived of their arms by the Ro^ 
 mans. '' One would find an equal difficulty at present 
 (at least one would have found it fifty years ago) to ^ 
 rouse up the modern Spaniards to arms. The Bata-s 
 vians were all soldiers of fortune, and hired themselves 
 into the Roman armies. Their posterity make use of 
 
 '' TxT. L.1VII, lib. xxxiv, cap. 17,
 
 234 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 foreigners for the same purpose that the Romans did 
 tlieir ancestors. Though some few strokes of the 
 French character be the same with that which Caesar 
 has ascribed to the Gauls ; yet what comparison be- 
 tween the civihty, humanity, and knowledge of the mo- 
 dern inhabitants of that country, and the ignorance, 
 barbarity, and grossness of the ancient? Not to in- 
 sist upon the great difference between the present pos- 
 sessors of Britain, and those before the Roman con- 
 quest, we may observe, that our ancestors, a few centu- 
 ries ago, were sunk into tlie most abject superstition. 
 Last century they were inflamed with the most furious 
 enthusiasm, and are now settled into the most cool in- 
 dillerence, with regard to religious matters, that is to 
 be found in any nation of the world. 
 
 Eighthly, Where several neighbouring nations have 
 a very close communication together, either by policy, 
 commerce, or travelling, they acquire a similitude of 
 manners, proportioned to the communication. Thus, 
 all the Franks appear to have a uniform character to 
 the Eastern nations. The differences among them are 
 like the peculiar accents of different provinces, which 
 are not distinguishable except by an ear accustomed to 
 them, and which commonly escape a foreigner. 
 
 Ninlhbj, We may often remark a wonderful mixture 
 of manners and characters in the same nation, speak- 
 ing the same language, and subject to the same go- 
 vernment : And in this particular the English are the 
 most remarkable of any people that perhaps ever were 
 ill tiie world. Nor is this to be ascribed to the mu- 
 Uibility and uncertainty of their climate, or to any 
 other jjhysical causes, since all these causes take place 
 in the neighbouring country of Scotland, without hav- 
 ing the same effect. Where the government of a na-
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. 235 
 
 tion is altogether republican, it is apt to beget a pecu- 
 liar set of manners. Where it is altogether monarchi- 
 cal, it is more apt to have the same eifect ; the imita- 
 tion of superiors spi'eacling the national manners faster 
 among the people. If the governing part of a state 
 consist altogether of merchants, as in Holland, their 
 uniform way of life will fix their character. If it con- 
 sists chiefly of nobles and landed gentry, like Ger- 
 many, France and Spain, the same effect follows. The 
 genius of a particular sect or religion is also apt to 
 mould the manners of a people. But the English go- 
 vernment is a mixture of monarchy, aristocracy, and 
 democracy. The people in authority are composed of 
 gentry and merchants. All sects of religion are to be 
 found among them ; and the great liberty and inde- 
 pendency which every man enjoys, allows him to dis- 
 play the manners peculiar to him. Hence the English, 
 of any people in the universe, have the least of a na- 
 tional character, unless this very singularity may pass 
 for such. 
 
 If the characters of men depended on the air and 
 climate, the degrees of heat and cold should naturally 
 be expected to have a mighty influence, since nothing 
 has a greater effect on all plants and irrational animals. 
 And indeed there is some reason to think, that all the 
 nations which live beyond tlie polar circles or between 
 the tropics, are inferior to the rest of the species, and 
 are incapable of all the higher attainments of the hu- 
 man mind. The poverty and misery of the northern in- 
 habitants of the globe, and the indolence of the southern, 
 from their few necessities, may, perhaps, account for 
 this remarkable difference, without our having recourse 
 to i^hijucal causes. This, however, is certain, that the
 
 236 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 characters of nations are very promiscuous in the tem- 
 perate climates, and that ahiiost all the general observ- 
 ations which have been formed of the more southern 
 or more northern people in these climates, are found 
 to be uncertain and fallacious. 
 
 Shall we say, that the neighbourhood of the sun in- 
 flames 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 seri- 
 ous deportment, without any such difference of climate 
 as to produce this difference of temper. 
 
 The Greeks and Romans, who called all other na- 
 tions barbarians, confined genius and a fine undei*- 
 standing to the more southern climates, and pronounced 
 the northern nations incapable of all knowledge and 
 civilit}'. But our Island has produced as great men, 
 either for action or learning, as Greece or Italy has to 
 boast of. 
 
 * I am apt to suspect the Negroes to be naturally inferior to the 
 "Whites. There scarcely ever was a civilized nation of that complexion, 
 nor even any individual, eminent either in action or speculation. No 
 ingenious manufactures amongst them, no arts, no sciences. On the 
 other hand, the most rude and barbarous of the Whites, such as the an- 
 cient Gennans, the present Tartars, have still something eminent about 
 them, in their valour, fonn of government, or some other particular. 
 Such a uniform and constant difference could not happen, in so many 
 countries and ages, if nature had not made an original distinction be- 
 tween these breeds of men. Not to mention our colonies, there are 
 Negro slaves dispersed all over Europe, of whom none ever discovered 
 any symptoms of ingenuity ; though low people, without education, will 
 start up amongst us, and distinguish themselves in every {jrofcssion. In 
 Jamaica, indeed, they talk of one Negro as a man of jiarts and learning; 
 hut it is likely he is admired for slender accomplishments, like a parrot 
 who speaks a few words plainly.
 
 OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS. SSt 
 
 It is pretended, that the senthneiits of men become! 
 more delicate as the country approaches nearer to the 
 sun ; and that the taste of beauty and elegance receives 
 proportional improvements in every latitude, as we may 
 particularly observe of the languages, of which the more 
 southern are smooth and melodious, the northern harsh 
 and untunable. But this observation holds not univer- 
 sally. The Arabic is uncouth and disagreeable ; the 
 Muscovite soft and musical. Energy, strength and 
 harshness, form the character of the Latin tongue. The 
 Italian is the most liquid, smooth, and effeminate lan- 
 guage that can possibly be imagined. Every language 
 will depend somewhat on the manners of the people j 
 but much more on that original stock of woi'ds and 
 sounds which they received from their ancestors, and 
 which I'emain unchangeable, even while their manners 
 admit of the greatest alterations. Who can doubt, but 
 the English are at present a more polite and knowing 
 people than the Greeks were for several ages after the 
 siege of Troy ? Yet there is no comparison between the 
 language of Milton and that of Homer. Nay, the great- 
 er are the alterations and improvements which happen 
 in the manners of a people, the less can be expected 
 in their language. A few eminent and refined jjeniuses 
 will communicate their taste and knowledge to a whole 
 people, and produce the greatest improvements ; but 
 they fix the tongue by their writings, and prevent, in 
 some degree, its farther changes. 
 
 Lord Bacon has observed, that the inhabitants of 
 the south are, in general, more ingenious than tliose 
 of the north ; but that, where the native of a cold cli- 
 mate has genius, he rises to a higher pitch than can 
 be reached by the southern wits. This observation
 
 238 ESSAY xxr. 
 
 a late " writer confirms, by comparing the southern 
 wits to cucumbers, which are commonly all good in 
 their kind, but, at best, are an insipid fruit ; while 
 the northern geniuses are like melons, of which not 
 one in fifty is good, but when it is so, it has an ex- 
 quisite 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 application, when excited by emu- 
 lation and by glory, the few who were addicted to 
 them would carry them to the greatest height, and 
 stretch every nerve, and every faculty, to reach the 
 pinnacle of perfection. Such illustrious examples 
 spread knowledge every where, and begot an univer-. 
 sal esteem for the sciences ; after which, it is no won- 
 der that industry relaxes, while men meet not with 
 suitable encouragement, nor arrive at such distinction 
 by their attainments. The universal diffusion of learn- 
 ing among a people, and the entire banishment of gross 
 ignorance and rusticity, is, therefore, seldom attended 
 with any remarkable perfection in particular persons. 
 It seems to be taken for granted in the dialogue de Ora- 
 torihus, that knowledge was much more common in 
 Vespasian's age than in that of Cicero and Augustus. 
 Quintilian also complains of the profanation of learning, 
 by its becoming too common. * Formerly, ' says Ju- 
 venal, ' science was confined to Greece and Italy. Now 
 the whole world emulates Athens and Rome. Eloquent 
 
 '' Dr Berkeley. Minute Philosopher,
 
 OF NATIONAL CIIAnACTERS. 239 
 
 Gaul has taiic[ht Britain, knowinjr in the laws. Even 
 Thule entertains thoughts of hiring rhetoricians for its 
 instruction. ' ' This state of learning is remarkable ; 
 because Juvenal is himself the last of the Roman writers 
 that possessed any degree of genius. Those who suc- 
 ceeded are valued for nothing but the matters of fact 
 of which they give us information. I hope the late 
 conversion of Muscovy to the study of the sciences, 
 will not prove a like prognostic to the present period 
 of learning. 
 
 Cardinal Bentivoglio gives the preference to the 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 Germans. But I am apt to think that this has 
 happened by accident. The ancient Romans seem to 
 have been a candid, sincere people, as are the modern 
 Turks. But if we must needs suppose that this event 
 has arisen from fixed causes, we may only conclude from 
 it, that all extremes are apt to concur, and are com- 
 monly attended with the same consequences. Treachery 
 is the usual concomitant of ignorance and barbarism ; 
 and if civilized nations ever embrace subtle and crook- 
 ed 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 
 
 ■^ ' Sed Cantaber nude 
 Stoicus? antiqui praEsertini a'tate IMetelli. 
 Nunc totus Graias, nostrasque habet orbis Athenas. 
 Gallia causidicos docuk faciinda Britannos : 
 Dc coiiducendo loquitur jam rhethore TUulc' — Sat. 15.
 
 2W tSSAY Xxt. 
 
 it would have been juster to have said, that most Cort-" 
 quests are uiatle by })overty and want upon plenty and 
 riches. The Saracens, leaving the desei'ts of Arabia^ 
 carried their conquests nortliwards upon all the fertile 
 provinces of the lloinan empire, and met the Turks 
 lialf way, who were coming southwards from the de- 
 serts of Tartary. 
 
 An eminent writer ^ has remarked, that all coura- 
 geous animals arc also carnivorous, and that greater 
 courage is to be expected in a jieople, such as the 
 English, whose food is strong and hearty, than in the 
 half-starved commonalty of other countries. But the 
 Swedes, notwithstandino; their disadvantasjes 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 na* 
 tional (jualities, is the most precarious ; because it is 
 exerted only at intervals, and by a few in every na- 
 tion ; whereas industry, knowledge, civility, may be of 
 constant and universal use, and for several ages may 
 become habitual to the whole people. If courage be 
 preserved, it must be by disci})iine, example, and opi- 
 nion. Tiie tenth legion of Ciesar, and the regiment of 
 Picardy in France, were formed promiscuously from 
 among the citizens ; but having once entertained a no- 
 tion that they were the best troops in the service, this 
 very oj)iiii<)ii leally made them such. 
 
 As a proof how much courage depends on opinion, 
 we may observe, that, of the two chief tribes of the 
 Greeks, tlie Dorians and lonians, the former wei'e al- 
 ways esteemed, aud always appeared, more brave and 
 manly than the latter, though the ci)]onies of both the 
 
 ' .Sir William Tcinple's Account of tlic Nethfrlandii.
 
 OF NATIONAL CHAUACTIiRS. 211 
 
 tribes were interspersed and intermingled tlirouoliout 
 all the extent of Greece, the Lesser Asia, Sicily, Italy, 
 and the islands of the iEixean Sea. The Athenians 
 were the only lonians that ever had any reputatiom for 
 valonr or military achievements, thongh even these 
 were deemed inferior to the Lacedemonians, the brav- 
 est 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 li(juors, 
 and those in the southern to love and women. One 
 can assign a very probable physical cause for this dif- 
 ference. Wine and distilled waters warm the frozen 
 blood in the colder climates, and fortify men against 
 the injuries of the weather ; as the genial heat of the 
 sun, in the countries exposed to his beams, inflames 
 the blood, and exalts the passion between the sexes. 
 
 Perhaps, too, the matter may be accounted for by 
 moral causes. All strong liquors are rarer in the 
 north, and consequently are more coveted. Diodorus 
 Siculus ^ tells us that the Gauls, in his time, were 
 great drunkards, and much addicted to wine ; cliiefl}', 
 I sujipose, from its rarity and novelty. On the other 
 hand, the heat in the southern climates oblio-infr nien 
 and women to go half naked, thereby renders their 
 frequent conniierce more dangerous, and inflames their 
 mutual passion. This makes parents and husbands 
 more jealous and reserved, which still farther inflames 
 
 ^ Lib. V. The same author ascribes taciturnity to that people; a new 
 proof that national characters may alter very much. Taciturnity as a na- 
 tional character, implies unsociableness. Aristotle, in his I'olitics, book 
 ii. cap. 2. says, that tlie Gauls are the only warlike nation who are ne- 
 gligent of women. 
 
 VOL. III. O
 
 212 ESSAY XXI. 
 
 the piissiDii. Not to mention, that as women ripen 
 sooner in tlie southern regions, it is necessary to ob- 
 serve greater jealousy and care in their education ; it 
 being evident, that a girl of" twelve cannot possess 
 equal discretion to govern this passion with one who 
 feels not its violence till she be seventeen or eighteen. 
 Nothing so much encourages the passion of love as 
 ease and leisure, or is more destructive to it than in- 
 dustry and hard labour ; and as the necessities of men 
 are evidently fewer in the warm climates than in the 
 cold ones, this circumstance alone may make a con-f 
 siderable difference between them. 
 
 But perhaps the fact is doubtful, that nature has, ei^ 
 ther from moral or physical causes, distributed these 
 respective inclinations to the different climates. The 
 ancient Greeks, though born in a warm climate, seem 
 to have been much addicted to the bottle; nor were 
 their parties of pleasure any thing but matches of 
 drinking among men, who passed their time altoge- 
 ther apart from the fair. Yet when Alexander led the 
 Greeks into Persia, a still more southern climate, they 
 multiplied their debauches of this kind, in imitation of 
 the Persian manners. " So honourable was the cha- 
 racter of a drunkard among the Persians, that Cyrus 
 the younger, soliciting the sober Lacedemonians for 
 succour against his brother Artaxerxes, claims it chief- 
 ly on account of his superior endowments, as more va- 
 lorous, more bountiful, and a better drinker. \ Darius 
 Hystaspes made it be inscribed on his tomb-stone, a- 
 mong his otiier virtues and princely qualities, that no 
 one could bear a greater quantity of iicjuor. You may 
 
 ** JJabijlunii maiime in vinum, el qxim ebriclalcm serjuunlur, sjfusi sunt, 
 Qu'iNT. Cur. lib. v. cajj. 1. 
 ' Plut. Syrup, lih. i. <|ua'st. 1.
 
 OF NATIONAL CHAKACTERS. 213 
 
 obtain any thing of the Negroes by offering them 
 strong drink, and may easily prevail with them to 
 sell, not only their children, but their wives and mis- 
 tresses, for a cask of brandy. In France, and Italy, 
 few drink pure wine, except in the greatest heats of 
 summer ; and, indeed, it is then almost as necessary, 
 in order to recruit the spirits, evaporated by heat, as 
 it is in Sweden during the winter, in order to warm 
 the bodies congealed by the rigour of the season. If 
 jealousy be regarded as a proof of an amorous disposi- 
 tion, no people were more jealous than the Muscovites, 
 before their communication with Europe had somewhat 
 altered their manners in this particular. 
 
 But supposing the fact true, that nature, by physical 
 principles, has regularly distributed these two passions, 
 the one to the northern, the other to the southern re- 
 gions, we can only infer, that the climate may affect 
 the grosser and more bodily organs of our frame, not 
 that it can work upon those finer organs on which the 
 operations of the mind and understanding depend. 
 And this is agreeable to the analogy of nature. The 
 races of animals never degenerate when carefully at- 
 tended to; and horses, in particular, always show their 
 blood in their shape, spirit, and swiftness. But a cox- 
 comb may beget a philosopher, as a man of virtue may 
 leave a worthless progeny. 
 
 I shall conclude this subject with observing, that 
 though the passion for liquor be more brutal and de- 
 basing than love, which, when properly managed, is 
 the source of all politeness and refinement ; yet this 
 gives not so great an advantage to the southern cli- 
 mates as we may be apt, at first sight, to imagine. 
 When love goes beyond a certain pitch, it renders 
 men jealous, and cuts off' the free intercourse between 
 
 22
 
 2ii ESSAY XXI. 
 
 the "s^es, on which the politeness of a nation will 
 commonly much depend. And if we would subtilize 
 and refine upon this point, we might observe, that the 
 people, in very temperate climates, are the most likely 
 to attain all sorts of improvement, their blood not be- 
 ing so inflamed as to render them jealous, and yet be- 
 ing warm enough to make them set a due value on the 
 charms and endowmients of the fair sex.
 
 OF TRAGEDY. 215 
 
 ESSAY XXIL 
 
 OF TRAGEDY. 
 
 It seems an unaccountable pleasure which the spec-» 
 tators of a well-written tragedy receive from sorrow, 
 terror, anxiety, and other passions that are in them- 
 selves disagreeable and uneasy. The more they are 
 touched and affected, the more are they delighted with 
 the spectacle ; and as soon as the uneasy passions cease 
 to operate, the piece is at an end. One scene of full 
 joy and contentment and security is the utmost that 
 any composition of this kind can bear ; and it is sure 
 always to be the concluding one. If in the texture of 
 the piece there be interwoven any scenes of satisfac- 
 tion, they afford only faint gleams of pleasure, which 
 are thrown in by way of variety, and in order to 
 plunge the actors into deeper distress by means of that 
 contrast and disappointment. The whole art of the 
 poet is employed in i-ousing and supporting the com- 
 passion and indignation, the anxiety and resentment, 
 of his audience. They are pleased in proportion as 
 they are afflicted, and never are so happy as when 
 they employ tears, sobs and cries, to give vent to their 
 sorrow, and relieve their heart, swoln with the tender- 
 est sympathy and compassion.
 
 S16 ESSAY xxir. 
 
 The few critics wlio have liad some tincture of plii- 
 losophy have remarked tliis singular phenomenon, and 
 have endeavoured to account for it. 
 
 L'Abbe Dubos, in his Reflections on Poetry and 
 Painting, asserts, that nothing is in genei*al so dis- 
 agreeable 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 si- 
 tuation, it seeks every amusement and pursuit ; busi- 
 ness, gaming, shows, executions ; whatever will rouse 
 the passions and take its attention from itself No 
 matter what the passion is; let it be disagreeable, af- 
 flicting, melancholy, disordered ; it is still better than 
 that insipid languor which arises from perfect tranquil- 
 lity 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 com- 
 pany run to those where the deepest play is, even 
 though they find not there the best plaj-ers. The 
 view, or, at least, imagination of high passions, arising 
 from great loss or gain, aflects the spectator b}^ sym- 
 j)athy, gives him some touches of the same passions, 
 and serves him for a momentary entertainment. It 
 makes the time pass the easier with him, and is some 
 relief to that ojipression under which men commonly 
 labour when left entirely to their own thoughts and 
 meditations. 
 
 We find that common liars always magnify, in their 
 narrations, 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 at- 
 tention, and attaching them to such marvellous rela-
 
 OF TRAGEDY. 247 
 
 tion by the passions and emotions which they ex- 
 cite. 
 
 There is, however, a difficiihy in applying to the 
 present subject, in its full extent, this solution, how- 
 ever ingenious and satisfactory it may appear. It is 
 certain that the same object of distress, which pleases 
 in a tragedy, were it really set before us, would give 
 the most unfeigned uneasiness, though it be then the 
 most effectual cure to languor and indolence. Mon- 
 sieur Fontenelle seems to have been sensible of this 
 difficulty, and accordingly attempts another solution of 
 the phenomenon, at least makes some addition to the 
 theory above mentioned. ^ 
 
 * Pleasure and pain, ' says he, ' wliich are two sen- 
 timents so different in themselves, differ not so much 
 in their cause. From the instance of tickling it ap- 
 pears, 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 pro- 
 ceeds, that there is such a thing as a sorrow, soft and 
 agreeable : It is a pain weakened and diminished. 
 The heart likes naturally to be moved and affected. 
 Melancholy objects suit it, and even disastrous and 
 sorrowful, ]:)rovided they are softened by some circum- 
 stance. It is certain, that, on the theatre, the repre- 
 sentation has almost 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 usurp over the reason, there still 
 lurks at the bottom a certain idea of falsehood in the 
 whole of what we see. This idea, though weak and 
 disguised, suffices to diminish the pain which we suf- 
 
 ^ Reflections sur la Po'etiqiie, § 36.
 
 218 ESSAY XXII. 
 
 ier iVoni the misfortunes of those whom we love, and 
 to rechicc that nfHiction to such ii pitcli as converts it 
 into a pleasure, ^^'e weep for the misfortune of a hero 
 to whom we are attached. In tiie same instant we com- 
 lort ourselves by reflecting, that it is nothing but a fic- 
 tion: And it is precisely that mixture of sentiments which 
 composes an agreeable sorrow, and tears that delight 
 us. But as that aflHction which is caused by exterior 
 and sensible objects is stronger than the consolation 
 which arises from an internal reflection, they are the 
 effects and symptoms of sorrow that ought to predomi- 
 nate in the composition. ' 
 
 This solution seems just and convincing; but per- 
 haps it wants still some new addition, in order to make 
 it answer fully the phenomenon which we here exa- 
 mine. All the passions, excited by eloquence, are a- 
 greeable in the highest degree, as well as those which 
 are moved by painting and the theatre. The Epi- 
 logues of Cicero are, on this account chiefly, the de- 
 light of every reader of taste; and it is difficult to read 
 some of them without the deepest S3'mpathy and sor- 
 row. His merit as an orator, no doubt, depends much 
 on his success in this particular. When he liad raised 
 tears in his judges and all his audience, they were then 
 llic most highly delighted, and expressed the greatest 
 satisfaction with the pleader. The })athetic description 
 of the butchery made by Verres of the Sicilian cap- 
 tains, is a masterpiece of this kind : But I believe 
 none will afiirm, that the being present at a melan- 
 choly scene of that nature would afford any entertain- 
 ment. Neither is the sorrow here softened by fiction ; 
 ihr tliC audi<.-nce were convinced of the reality of every 
 clrcinn-itance. Wliat is it then wiiich in this case raises^ 
 a pleasure from tiie bosom of mieasiness, so to speak>
 
 or TRAGEDY. 240 
 
 and a pleasure which still retains all the features and 
 outward symptoms of distress and sorrow ? 
 
 I answer : This extraordinary effect proceeds from 
 that very eloquence with which the melancholy scene 
 is represented. The genius required to paint objects 
 in a lively manner, the art employed in collecting all 
 the pathetic circumstances, the judgment displayed in 
 disposing them ; the exercise, I say, of these noble ta- 
 lents, together with the force of expression, and beau- 
 ty of oratorial numbers, diffuse the highest satisfaction 
 on the audience, and excite the most delightful move- 
 ments. By this means, the uneasiness of the melan- 
 choly passions is not only overpowered and effaced by 
 something stronger of an opposite kind, but the whole 
 impulse of those passions is converted into pleasure, 
 and sw^ells the delight which the eloquence raises in 
 us. The same force of oratory, employed on an un- 
 interesting 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, compassion, indignation, receives 
 a new direction from the sentiments of beauty. The 
 latter, being the predominant emotion, seize the whole 
 mind, and convert the former into themselves, at least 
 tincture them so strongly as totally to alter their nature. 
 And the soul being at the same time roused by passion 
 and charmed by eloquence, feels on the whole a strong 
 movement, which is altogether delightful. 
 
 The same principle takes place in tragedy; with thi& 
 addition, that tragedy is an imitation, and imitation is 
 alwavs of itself agreeable. This circumstance serves
 
 250 ESSAY XXTI. 
 
 Still I'artlier to smooth the motions of passion, and con- 
 vert the whole feeling into one uniform and strong en- 
 joyment. Objects of the greatest terror and distress 
 please in painting, and please more than the most beau- 
 tiful objects that appear calm and indifferent. The( 
 affection, rousing the mind, excites a large stock of 
 spirit and vehemence; which is all transformed into 
 pleasure by the force of the prevailing movement. It is 
 thus the fiction of tragedy softens the passion, by an 
 infusion of a new feeling, not merely by weakening or 
 diminishing the sorrow. You may by degrees weaken 
 a real sorrow, till it totally disappears ; yet in none of 
 its gradations will it ever give pleasure ; except, per- 
 haps, by accident, to a man sunk under lethargic indo- 
 lence, whom it rouses from that languid state. 
 
 To confirm this theory, it will be sufficient to pro- 
 duce other instances, where the subordinate move- 
 ment is converted into the predominant, and gives 
 force to it, though of a different, and even sometimes 
 though of a contrary nature. 
 
 Novelty naturally rouses the mind, and attracts our 
 attention ; and the movements which it causes are al- 
 ways converted into any passion belonging to the ob- 
 ject, and join their force to it. Wiiether an event ex- 
 cite joy or sorrow, pride or shame, anger or good-will, 
 
 ' Painters make no scruple of representing distress and sorrow, as well 
 as any other passion ; but they seem not to dwell so much on these me- 
 lancholy afTlctions as the poets, who, thougli they copy every motion of 
 the human breast, yet pass quickly over the agreeable sentiments. A 
 painter represents only one instant ; and if that be passionate enough, it 
 is sure to affect and delight the spectator; but nothing can furnisli to the 
 poet a variety of scenes, and incidents, and sentiments, except distress, 
 terror, or anxiety. Complete joy and satisfaction is attended witli secu- 
 rity, and leave* no farther room for action.
 
 OF TRAGEDY. 251 
 
 it is sure to produce a stronf^er afT'ectlon, when new or 
 unusual. And though novelty of itself be agreeable, it 
 fortifies the painful, as well as agreeable passions. 
 
 Had you any intention to move a person extremely 
 by the narration of any event, the best method of in- 
 creasing its effect would be artfully to delay informing 
 liim of it, and first to excite his curiosity and impa- 
 tience before you let him into the secret. This is the 
 artifice practised by lago in the famous scene of Shake- 
 peare ; and every spectator is sensible, that Othello's 
 jealousy acquires additional force from his preceding 
 impatience, and that the subordinate passion is here 
 readily transformed into the predominant one. 
 
 Difficulties increase passions of every kind ; and by 
 rousing our attention, and exciting our active powers, 
 they produce an emotion which nourishes the prevail- 
 ing affection. 
 
 Parents commonly love that child most whose sickly 
 infirm frame of body has occasioned them the greatest 
 pains, trouble, and anxiety, in rearing him. The agree- 
 able sentiment 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 power- 
 ful an influence. 
 
 Jealousy is a painful passion ; yet without some share 
 of it, the agreeable affection of love has difiiculty to 
 subsist 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 fa- 
 vourable 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
 
 252 ESSAY XXII. 
 
 and absence in love compose the dolce jicccante of the 
 Italians, which they suppose so essential to all plea- 
 sure. 
 
 There is a fine observation of the elder Pliny, which 
 illustrates the principle here insisted on. ' It is very 
 remarkable,' says he, ' that the last works of celebrat- 
 ed artists, which they left imperfect, are always the 
 most prized, such as the Iisis of Aristides, the Tynda- 
 RiDES of Nicomachus, the Medea of Timomachus, and 
 the Venus of Apelles. These are valued even above 
 their finished productions. The broken lineaments of 
 the piece, and the half-formed idea of the painter, are 
 carefully studied ; and our very grief for that curious 
 hand, which had been stopped by death, is an addi- 
 tional increase to our pleasure. 
 
 These instances (and many more might be collected) 
 are sufiicient to ailbrd us some insight into the analogy 
 of nature, and to show us, that the pleasure v.hich 
 poets, orators, and musicians give us, by exciting grief, 
 sorrow, indignation, compassion, is not so extraordina- 
 rv or paradoxical as it may at first sight appear. The 
 force of imagination, the energy of expression, the 
 power of numbers, the charms of imitation ; all these 
 are naturally, of themselves, delightful to the mind: 
 And when the object presented lays also hold of some 
 aflectioii, the pleasure still rises upon us, by the con- 
 version of this subordinate movement into that which 
 
 "• Illud vOro pfr((ii;mi rariini ac mciiioria (ligiuim, ctiain siipreina opera 
 arlifuiiin, iinperfcctasfjiic tahiilas, siciit, litis Aristidis, TyNn.\Kii).\s Ni- 
 coiiiachi, Mkdkam Tiiiioniaclii, et quam dixiinus Vf.nkrkm Apclli.s, in 
 majwi admiratione esse quam perfecta. (iiiippe in iis lincamenta reli- 
 qiia, ii)sa;qiie logitationes artificum spectantiir, atquo in Icnocinio com- 
 rnondaiioiiis dolor e^t maims, cum id agertt, t-Ktinctif. Ld). xxxv. 
 cap. 1 1.
 
 OF TRAGEDY. 253 
 
 is predominant. The passion, though perhaps natu- 
 rally, 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 liner 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 latter, and still farther increases the pain and 
 affliction of the sufferer. 
 
 Wlio could ever think of it as a good expedient for 
 comforting an afflicted parent, to exaggerate, with all 
 the force of elocution, the irreparable loss which he has 
 met with by the death of a favourite child ? The more 
 power of imagination and exjiression 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 un- 
 easiness. These former passions were too strong for 
 the pleasure arising from the beauties of elocution ; 
 and operated, though from the same principle, yet in a 
 contrary manner, to the sympathy, compassion, and 
 indiiiuation of the audience. 
 
 Lord Clarendon, when he approaches towards the 
 catastrophe of the royal party, suj^poses that his narra^ 
 tion must then become infinitely disagreeable ; and he 
 hurries over the king's death witliout giving us one 
 circumstance of it. He considers it as too horrid a 
 scene to be contemplated with any satisfaction, or even 
 without the utmost pain and aversion. He liimself, as 
 well as the readers of that age, were too deeply con- 
 cerned in the events, and felt a pain from subject;*
 
 ~0t ESSAY XX n. 
 
 whicli an liistorimi and a reader of anotlier a<ie would 
 rei^ard as the most padietic and most interesting, and, 
 by consecjuence, the most agreeable. 
 
 An action, represented in tragedy, may be too bloody 
 and atrocious. It may excite such movements of hor- 
 ror 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 represented in the Ambitious Stepmother, 
 where a venerable old man, raised to the height of 
 fury and despair, rushes against a pillar, and, striking 
 his head upon it, besmears it all over with mingled 
 brains and gore. The English theatre abounds too 
 much with such shockinn; ima<res. 
 
 Even the common sentiments of compassion require 
 to be softened by some agreeable affection, in order to 
 give a thorough satisfaction to the audience. The mere 
 suffering of plaintive virtue, under the triumphant ty- 
 ranny and ojipression of vice, forms a disagreeable 
 spectacle, and is carefully avoided by all masters of the 
 drama. In order to dismiss the audience with entire 
 satisfaction and contentment, the virtue must either 
 convert itself into a noble courageous despair, or the 
 vice receive its proper punislnnent. 
 
 Most painters appear in this light to have been very 
 urdiappy 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 sufi'ering, without any action or affection. 
 When they turned their pencil from this ghastly my- 
 thology, they had commonly recourse to Oviil, whose 
 fictions, though jiassionate and agreeable, are scarcely 
 jialural or j)robable enough lor painting.
 
 OF TUAGEDY. 255 
 
 The same inversion of that principle which is here 
 insisted on, displays itself in common life, as in the ef- 
 fects 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 jealousy extinguishes love ; too much diffi- 
 culty renders us indifferent ; too much sickness and in- 
 firmity disgusts a selfish and unkind parent. 
 
 What so disagreeable as the dismal, gloomy, disas- 
 trous stories, with which melancholy people entertain 
 their companions ? The uneasy passion being there 
 raised alone, unaccompanied with any spirit, genius, or 
 eloquence, conveys a pure uneasiness, and is attended 
 with nothing that can soften it into pleasure or satis.- 
 faction.
 
 256 ESSAY XXI f I. 
 
 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 
 
 The great variety of Taste, as well as of opinion, 
 wliicli prevails in the world, is too obvious not to have 
 fallen under every one's observation. Men of the most 
 confined knowledge are able to remark a difference of 
 taste in the narrow circle of their acquaintance, even 
 where the persons have been educated under the same 
 government, and have early imbibed the same preju' 
 dices. Ikit tjiose who can enlarge their view to con- 
 template distant nations and remote ages, are still more 
 surprised at the great inconsistence and contrariety. 
 We are apt to call barbarous whatever departs widely 
 / from our own taste and apprehension ; but soon find 
 the epitliet of reproach retorted on us. And the high- 
 est arrofrance and self-conceit is at last startled, on ob- 
 serving an equal assurance on all sides, and scruples, 
 amidst such a contest of sentiment, to pronounce posi- 
 tively in its own favour. 
 
 As this varietv of taste is obvious to the most careless 
 inquirer, so will it be found, on examination, to be still 
 greater in reality than in a])j:)earance. The sentiments 
 of men often differ with regard to beauty and deformity 
 of all kinds, even while their general discourse is the 
 same. Tiiere are certain terms in every language which
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 257 
 
 import blame, and olliers praise ; and all men who use 
 the same tongue must agree in their application of them. 
 ] Every voice is united in applauding elegance, proprie- » 
 jty, simplicity, spirit in writing ; and in blaming fustian, 
 affectation, coldness, and a false brilliancy. But when 
 'critics come to particulars, this seeming unanimity va- 
 ! nishes ; and it is found, that they had affixed a very dif- 
 ferent meaning to their expressions. In all matters of 
 opinion and science, the case is opposite ; the difference 
 amono- men is there oftener found to lie in generals than 
 in particulars, and to be less in reality than in appear- 
 ance. An explanation of the terms commonly ends the 
 controversy : and the disputants are surprised to find 
 that they had been quarrelling, while at bottom they 
 agreed in their judgment. 
 
 Those who found morality on sentiment, more than \ 
 on reason, are inclined to comprehend ethics under the 
 former observation, and to maintain, that, in all ques- 
 tions which regard conduct and manners, the differ- 
 ence among men is really greater than at first sight it 
 appears. It is indeed obvious, that writers of all na- 
 tions and all ages concur in applauding justice, huma- 
 nity, magnanimit}', prudence, veracity ; and in blaming 
 the opposite qualities. Ev'en poets and other authors, 
 whose compositions are chiefly calculated to please the 
 imagination, are yet found, from Homer down to Fe- 
 nelon, to inculcate the same moral precepts, and to be- 
 stow 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 
 VOL. III. R
 
 1 A'yNO, 
 
 l)"-^ 
 
 2^)S ESSAY xxiir. 
 
 also allow, that some part of the seeming harmonj' in 
 morals may be accounted for from the very nature of 
 language. The word v/'iiur, with its equivalent in every 
 tongue, ini;)lies praisii, as that o'i vice does blame.; and 
 no one, without the most obvious and grossest impro- 
 priety, could adix reproach to a term, which in general 
 acceptation is understood in a good sense : or bestow 
 applause, where the idiom requires disapprobation. 
 Homer's general precepts, wliere he delivers any such, 
 will never be controverted ; but it is obvious, that, when 
 he draws partlcuhir pictures of manners, and represents 
 heroism in Achilles, and prudence in Ulysses, he inter- 
 mixes a much greater degree of ferocity in the former, 
 and of cunning and fraud in the latter, than Fenelon 
 would admit of. The sage Ulysses, in the Greek poet, 
 seems to delight in lies and fictions, and often employs 
 them without any necessity, or even advantage. But 
 Ills more scru])ulous son, in the French epic writer, 
 exposes himself to the most innninent perils, riither than 
 de-part from the most exact line of truth and veracity. 
 
 The admirers and followers of the Alcoran insist on 
 the excellent moral precepts interspersed throughout 
 that wild and absurd jierlbrmance. 15ut it is to be sup- 
 posed, that the Arabic words, which correspond to the 
 English, equity, justice, temperance, meekness, cha- 
 rity, were such as, from the constant use of that tongue, 
 must always be taken in a good sense : and it would 
 have argued the greatest ignorance, not of morals, but 
 of language, to have mentioned them with any epithets, 
 besides those of api)lause and ai)probation. But would 
 we knov/, whether the ])retended prophet had really 
 attained a just sentiment of morals, let us attend to his 
 narration, and we shall soon find, thnt he bestows 
 praise on such instances of treachery, inhumanity.
 
 true 
 / ethic 
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 259 
 
 cruelty, revenge, bigotry, as arc utterly incompatiMc 
 with civilized society. No steady rule of right seems 
 there to be attended to ; and every action is blamed or 
 praised, so far only as it is beneficial or hurtful to the 
 true believers. 
 
 he merit of delivering true general precepts in 
 ethics is indeed very small. Whoever recommends 
 any moral virtues, really does no more than is implied 
 in the terms themselves. That people who invented 
 the word charity^ and used it in a good sense, incul- 
 cated more clearly, and much more efficaciously, the 
 precept, Be charitable^ than any pretended legislator or 
 prophet, who should insert such a maxim in his writ- 
 iiigs. Of all expressions, those which, together with^ 
 their other meaning, imply a degree either of blame or 
 approbation, are the least liable to be perverted or 
 mistaken. 
 
 It is natural for us to seek a Standard of Taste ; a -^ 
 rule by which the various sentiments of men may be 
 reconciled ; at least a decision afforded confirming one 
 sentiment, and condemnino- another. 
 
 There is a species of philosophy, which cuts off all 
 hopes of success in such an attempt, and represents -^ 
 the impossibility of ever attaining any standard of 
 taste. The difference, it is said, is very wide between 
 judgment and sentiment. All sentiment is right; be- "^ 
 cause sentiment has a reference to nothing beyond it- 
 self, and is always real, wherever a man is conscious of 
 it. But all determinations of the understanding arc " 
 not right ; because they have a reference to something 
 beyond themselves, to wit, real matter of fact; and ^ 
 are not alwavs conformable to that standard. Amonij 
 a thousand different opinions which different men may 
 entertain of the same subject, there is one, and but 
 
 R 2
 
 2()0 ESSAY xxm. 
 
 one, that is just and true : and the only difficulty is to 
 fix and ascertain it. On the contrary, a thousand dif- 
 ferent sentiments, excited by the same object, are all 
 right ; because no sentiment represents what is I'eally 
 in the object. It only marks a certain conformity or 
 relation between the object and the organs or faculties 
 of the mind; and if that conformity did not really 
 exist, the sentiment could never possibly have being. 
 Beauty is no quality in things themselves : It exists 
 merely in the mind which contemplates them ; and 
 each mind perceives a different beauty. One per- 
 son may even perceive deformity, where another is 
 sensible of beauty ; and every individual ought to 
 acquiesce in his own sentiment, without pretending to 
 regulate those of others. To seek the real beauty, or 
 real deformity, is as fruitless an inquiry, as to pretend 
 to ascertain the real sweet or real bitter. Accordinjr to 
 the disposition of the organs, the same object may be 
 both sweet and bitter; and the proverb has justly de- 
 termined it to be fruitless to dispute concerning tastes. 
 It is very natural, and even quite necessary, to extend 
 this axiom to mental, as well as bodily taste ; and thus 
 common sense, which is so often at variance with phi- 
 losophy, especially with the sceptical kind, is found, 
 in one instance at least, to agree in pronouncing the 
 same decision. 
 *- — But though this axiom, by passing into a proverb, 
 seems to have attained the sanction of common sense; 
 there is certainly a species of common sense, which 
 opposes it, at least serves to modify and restrain it. 
 Whoever would assert an equaHty of genius and ele- 
 gance between Ogilby and Milton, or Bunyan and Ad- 
 dison, would be thought to defend no less an extrava- 
 gance, than if he had maintained a mole-hill to be as
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 261 
 
 high as Teneriffe, or a pond as extensive as the ocean. 
 Though there may be found persons, who give the 
 preference to the former authors ; no one pays atten- 
 tion to such a taste ; and we pronounce, without scru- 
 ple, the sentiment of these pretended critics to be ab- 
 surd and ridiculous. The principle of the n at-Ur_aI-e» 
 quality of tast es is then totally forgot, and while we 
 admit it on some occasions, where the objects seem 
 near an equality, it appears an extravagant paradox, 
 or rather a palpable absurdity, where objects so dis- 
 proportioned are compared together. 
 
 It is evident that none of the rules_of compos ition 
 are fixed by reasonings a priori, or can be esteemed , 
 abstract conclusions of the understanding, from com- 
 paring those habitudes and relations of ideas, which are 
 eternal and immutable. Their foundation is the same <, 
 with that of all the practical sciences, experience ; nor 
 are they any thing but general observations, concern- 
 ing what has been univers a lly found to please in all 
 countries and in all ages. Many of the beauties of 
 poetry, and even of eloquence, are founded on false- 
 hood and fiction, on hyperboles, metaphors, and an 
 abuse or perversion of terms from their natural mean- 
 ing. To check the sallies of the imagination, and to 
 reduce every expression to geometrical truth and ex- 
 actness, would be the most contrary to the laws of cri- 
 ticism ; because it would produce a work, which, by 
 universal experience, has been found the most insipid 
 and disagreeable. But though poetry can never sub- 
 mit to exact truth, it must be confined by rules of art, ^ 
 discovered to the author either by genius or observa- 
 tion. If some negligent or irregular writers have pleas- 
 ed, they have not pleased by their transgressions of 
 rule or order, but in spite of these transgressions :
 
 262 ESSAY xxiir. 
 
 Tliey have possessed other beauties, wliich were con- 
 formable to just criticism ; and the force oF these beau- 
 ties has been able to overpower censure, and give tlie 
 mind a satisfaction superior to the disgust arising from 
 the blemishes. Ariosto j^leases ; but not by his mon- 
 strous and improbable fictions, by his bizarre mixture 
 of the serious and comic styles, by the w-ant of cohe- 
 rence in his stories, or by the continual interruptions 
 of his narration. He charms by the force and clear- 
 ness of his expression, by the readiness and variety of 
 his inventions, and by his natural pictures of the pas- 
 sions, especially those of the gay and amorous kind : 
 And, liowever his faults may diminish our satisfaction, 
 they are not able entirely to destroy it. Did our plea- 
 sure really arise from those parts of his poem, which 
 we denominate faults, this would be no objection to cri- 
 ticism in general : It would only be an objection to 
 those ^larticular rules of criticism, which would esta- 
 blish such circumstances t6 be faults, and would repre- 
 sent them as universally blameable. If they 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 com- 
 mon sentiments of human nature, we must not imagine, 
 that, on every occasion, the feelings of men will be 
 conformable to these rules. Those finer emotions of 
 the mind are of a very tender and delicate nature, and 
 require the concurrence of many favourable circum- 
 stances to make them play with facility and exactness, 
 according to their general and established principles. 
 The least exterior hinderance to such small springs, or 
 the Icuit internal disoidtr, disturbii their motion, and
 
 OF THE STAN DA i: I) OF TASTE. 2^S 
 
 confounds the operation of the whole machine. When 
 we woukl make an experiment of this nature, and would 
 try the force of any beaut y or ddormrty, we must 
 choose with care a proper time and place, and bring ^^^"^'tI^^^ 
 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 circum- " 
 stances be wanting, our experiment will be fallacious, 
 and we shall be unable to judge of the catholic and 
 universal beauty. The relation, v/hich nature has 
 placed between the form and the sentiment, will at 
 least be more obscure ; and it will require greater ac- '^ 
 curacy to trace and discern it. We shall be able to 
 ascertain its influence, not so much from the operation 
 of each particular beauty, as from the durable admira- 
 tion which attends those works that have survived all 
 the caprices of mode and fashion, 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, 
 religion, and lan<xua£i;e, have not been able to obscure 
 his glory. Authority or prejudice may give a tempo- itrr^^^^jr^*-^ 
 rary vogue to a bad poet or orator ; but his reputation ' 
 will never be durable or general. When his composi- 
 tions are examined by posterity or by foreigners, the 
 enchantment is dissipated, and his faults appear in 
 their true colours. On the contrary, a real genius, the 
 longer his works. endure, and the more wide they are ^ 
 spread, the more sincere is tlie admiration which he 
 meets with. Env}- and jealousy have too much place 
 in a narrow circle ; and even familiar acquaintance 
 with his person may diminish the a])plause due to his 
 perforniuucos : But when these ob.tftructions "are re-*
 
 2Gi ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 moved, tlic beauties, which are naturall y fiftpd in pg p 
 cite ji greeable sentini £iit:>, immediately display their 
 energy ; and while the world endures, they maintain 
 their authority over the minds of men. 
 ay<^jL-uL*Si It appears, then, that amidst all the variety and ca- 
 
 ^^/^J.vo.^i^^^^'j^rice of taste, there are certain general principles of 
 jcXoL/^coj^"tJ approbation or blame, whose influence a careful eye 
 '''te may trace in all operations of the mind. Some parti- 
 
 ^>H^^;^'^ cular forms or qualities, from the original structure of 
 Yj);^,(,.^j^iAjWV*»the internal fabric, are calculated to please, and others 
 to displease ; and if they fail of their effect in any par- 
 ticular instance, it is from some apparent defect or im- 
 perfection in the organ. A man in a fever would not 
 insist on his palate as able to decide concerning fla- 
 -• vours ; nor would one affected with the jaundice pretend 
 to give a verdict with regard to colours. In each crea- 
 ^^sj.;<N^ cv ture there is a sound and a defectiv e 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 
 tlie organ, there be an entire or a considerable unifor- 
 mity of sentiment among men, we may thence derive 
 an idea of the perfect beauty ; in like manner as the 
 apjicarance of objects in daylight, to the eye of a man 
 in health, is denominated their true and real colour, 
 even while colour is allowed to be merely a phantasm 
 of the senses. 
 
 V Many and frequent are the defects in the internal 
 organs, which prevent or weaken the influence of those 
 freneral 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 indivi- 
 dual the pleasure will be e(jually felt. Particular inci- 
 dents and situations occur, which either throw a falsp 
 
 «\>-tjjt-i>J<-> 
 
 y^. 
 
 utCX,"-'-
 
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 2G5 
 
 lifrht on the objects, or hinder the true from convey- 
 ing to tlie imagination the proper sentiment and per- 
 ception. 
 
 One obvious cause why many feel not the proper 
 sentiment of beauty, is the want of t hat delicacjj of ima- > 
 gination which is requisite to convey a sensibility of 
 those finer emotions. This dehcacy every one pre- 
 tends to : Every one talks of it ; and would reduce 
 every kind of taste or sentiment to its standard. But 
 as our intention in this Essay is to mingle some light of 
 the understanding with the feelings of sentiment, it will 
 be proper to give a more accurate definition of delicacy 
 than has hitherto been attempted. And not to draw 
 our philosophy from too profound a source, we shall 
 have recourse to a noted story in Don Quixote. jj,v.^^a/«\ 
 
 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 opi- 
 nion of a hogshead, which was suj)posed to be excel- 
 lent, being old and of a good vintage. One of them 
 tastes it, considers it ; and, after mature reflection, 
 pronounces the wine to be good, were it not for a 
 small taste of leather wliich he perceived in it. Tlie 
 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 judgniont. But who laughed in the end ? On 
 emptying the hogshead, there was found at the bottom 
 an old key with a leathern thong tied to it. 
 
 The great resemblance between mental and bodily 
 taste will easily teach us to a})ply this story. Though 
 it be certain that beauty and deformity, more than sweet
 
 ^HG ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 and bitter, are not qualities in objects, but belong en- 
 tirely 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 and confounded with each other, it 
 often happens that the taste is not affected with such 
 minuto 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 al- 
 *^" low nothing to escape them, and at the same time so 
 exact as to perceive every ingredient in the composi- 
 tion, 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 con- 
 tinued composition, and in a smaller degree, affect not 
 the organs with a sensible delight or uneasiness, we 
 exclude the person from all pretensions to this delicacy. 
 To produce these general rules or avowed patterns of 
 composition, is like finding the key with the leathern 
 thong, which justified the verdict of Sancho's kinsmen, 
 and confounded those pretended judges who had con- 
 demned 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 diflicult to havci proved the su- 
 periority of the former, to the conviction of every by- 
 stander. In like manner, though the beauties of writ- 
 ing had never been methodized, or leduced to ireneral 
 principles; though no excellent models had ever been 
 £.cknovvIedged, the diflerent degrees of taste would still
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 2G7 
 
 have subsistetl, and die juuiynicn jiiLoiig^ mnn boon pra - 
 ferable to t hat of pjijiLbiif ; but it would not have been 
 so easy to silence the bad critic, wlu) niiglit always in- 
 sist upon his particular sentiment, antl refuse to submit 
 to his antagonist, i. But when we show him an avowed 
 principle of art ; when we illustrate this principle by 
 examples, whose operation, from his own particular S/^-^ 
 taste, he acknowledges to be conformable to the prin- 
 ciple ; 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 tlie whole, 
 that the fault lies in himself, and that he wants the de- 
 licacy which is requisite to make him sensible of every 
 beauty and evciy blemish in any composition or dis- 
 course.^ 
 
 It is acknowledged to be the perfection of every sense 
 or faculty, to perceive with exactness its most minute 
 objects, and allow nothing to escape its notice and ob- 
 servation. The smaller the objects are which become 
 sensible to the eye, the finer is that organ, and the more 
 elaborate its make and composition. A good palate is 
 not tried by strong flavours, but by a mixture of small 
 ingredients, where we are still sensible of each part, 
 notwithstanding its minuteness and its confusion with 
 the rest. In like manner, a ([uick and acute perc eption 
 of beauty and deformity must be the perfection of our 
 inental tast e; nor can a man be satisfied with himself 
 while he suspects that any excellence or blemish in a 
 discourse has passed him unobserved. In this case, the 
 perfection of the man, and the perfection of the sense 
 of feeling, are found to be united. A very delicate pa- 
 late, on many occasions, may be a great inconvenience 
 both to a man himself and to his friends. But a deli- 
 cate taste of wit or beauty must always be a desirable
 
 Tial>cuc^ 
 
 J 
 
 2C8 ESSAY xxm. 
 
 fjiialiU', because it is the source of all the finest and 
 most innocent enjoyments of wliich human nature is 
 su.scej>tible. In this decision the sentiments of all man- 
 kind are ai^reed. lAVherever you can ascertain a deli- 
 cacy of taste, it is sure to meet with approbation ; and 
 the best way of ascertaining it is, to appeal to those 
 models and principles which have been established by 
 the uniform consent and experience of nations and ages. ) 
 
 But though there be naturally a wide difference, in 
 point of delicacy, between one person and another, no- 
 
 l^^v^a^ thing tends further to increase a adintftrove this- talent. 
 
 ^r^AcX^ou than /Jroc^ic^' in a particular art, and the frequent sur- 
 
 ^^tvo*^ vey or contemplation of a particular species of beauty. 
 When objects of any kind are first presented to the eye 
 or imagination, the sentiment which attends them is ob- 
 scure and confused ; and the mind is, in a great mea- 
 sure, incapable of pronouncing concerning their merits 
 0^ j^ t)i' defects. The taste cannot perceive the several ex- 
 
 Qe;/^ cellences of the ^>eribrmance, much less distinguish the 
 
 ■S> particular character of each excellency, and ascertain 
 'ij^ its quality and degree. If it pronounce the whole in 
 
 general to be beautiful or deformed, it is the utmost 
 that can be expected ; and even this judgment, a per- 
 son so unjiractised will be apt to deliver with great he- 
 sitation and reserve. But allow him to acquire expe- 
 rience in those objects, his feeling becomes more exact 
 and nice : He not only perceives the beauties and de- 
 fects of each part, but marks the distinguishing sj)ecies 
 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 ])art is naturally fitted to produce. Tiie mist dis- 
 sipates which seemed formerly to hang over the object ;
 
 OF THE STANDAKD OK TASTE. 
 
 2G9 
 
 the organ ncquircs greater perfection in its operations, 
 and can pronounee, without danger of mistake, con- 
 cerning the merits of every performance. In a word, 
 the same address and dexterity which practice gives to ^': 
 the execution of any work, is also acquired by the 
 same means in the judging of it. 
 
 So advantageous is practice to the discernment of <<.\x Cr««^J^aft«j 
 beauty, that, before we can give judgment on any ^/^ . „ 
 work of importance, it will even be requisite that that (j>^*^^2) 
 very individual performance be more than once perus- «'^ "^ 
 ed by us, and be surveyed in different lights with at- ^ ' 
 tention and deliberation. There is a flutter or hvuTy 
 of thought which attends the first perusal of any piece, 
 and which confounds the genuine sentiment of beauty. 
 The relation of the parts is not discerned : The 
 true characters of style are little distinguished. The 
 several perfections and defects seem wrapped up in a 
 species of confusion, and present themselves indistinct- 
 ly to the imaghiation. Not to mention, that there is 
 a species of beauty, which, as it is florid and superfi- 
 cial, pleases at first; but being found incompatible 
 with a just expression either of reason or passion, soon 
 palls upon the taste, and is then rejected with disdain, 
 at least rated at a much lower value. 
 
 •^ It is impossible to continue in the practice of con- a«<^^a'"^>*^^' 
 templating any order of beauty, without being frequent- 
 ly obliged to form ^mparisoti s. between the several 
 species and degrees of excellence, and estimating their 
 proportion to each other. A man who has had no op- 
 portunity of comparing the different kinds of beauty, 
 is indeed totally unqualified to pronounce an opinion 
 with regard to any object presented to him. By com- 
 parison alone we fix the epithets of praise or blame, 
 and learn how to assign the due degree of each. The
 
 ^TO ESSAY XXI ir. 
 
 coarsest daiibino; contains a certain lustre of colours and 
 exactness of imitation, wliich aic so far beauties, and 
 would aftcct the mind of a peasant or Indian with the 
 hiiihest admiration. The most vuliiar ballads are not 
 entirely destitute of harmony or nature ; and none but 
 a person familiarized to superior beauties would pro- 
 nounce their numbers harsh, or narration uninterest- 
 intr. A ^qreat inferiority of beauty gives jiain to a per-^ 
 son conversant in the luLfhest excellence of the kindj 
 and is for that reason pronounced a cleformity ; as the 
 most finisiied object with which we arc acquainted is 
 naturally supposed to have reached the pinnacle of per- 
 fection, and to be entitled to the highest applause. 
 ^ One accustomed to see, and examine, and weigh the 
 several performances, admired in diffez'ent ages and na- 
 y^ tions, can alone rate the merits of a work exhibited to 
 his view, and assign its proper rank among the produc- 
 tions of genius. 
 . v:^ ^"*' ^^ enable a critic the more fully to execute this 
 ^ undertaking, he must preserve his mind free from all 
 jivrjiuUce^ and allow nothing to enter into his conside- 
 ration, but the very object which is submitted to his 
 3^ot '^^''-j^'i examination. We may observe, that every work of 
 art, in order to produce its due eifect on the mind, 
 Bu*im^ fl must be surveyed in a certain point of view, and can- 
 .tJat*^ not be fully relished by persons whose situation, real 
 
 or ima'>inarv, is not conformable to that which is re- 
 quired b}' the performance. An orator addresses him- 
 self to a particuhn- audience, and must have a regard to 
 their particular genius, interests, opinions, j)assions, 
 and prejudices; otherwise he hopes in vain to govern 
 tboir resolutions, and inflame their affections. Should 
 they even have entertained some prepossessions against 
 him, huwevtr unreasonable, he must not overlook tliis 

 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 271 
 
 disadvantage ; but, before he enters upon the subject^ 
 must endeavour to conciliate their affection, and ac- 
 quire their good graces. A critic of a different age or ^ xii^oju 
 nation, who should peruse this discourse, must have all c\> js'^*?^*''^^^**^ 
 these circumstances in his eye, and must place himself 
 in the same situation as the audience, in order to form 
 a true judgment of the oration. In like manner, v.hen 
 any work is addressed to the public, though I should 6 o'tA^,:a>cxV5^ 
 have a friendship or enmity with the author, I must .-^ 
 depart from this situation, and, considering myself as a 
 man in general, forget, if possible, my individual being, 
 and my peculiar circumstances. A person influenced 
 by prejudice complies not with this condition, but ob- 
 stinately maintains his natural position, without placing 
 himself in that point of view which the performance 
 supposes. If the work be addressed to persons of a it^-oj^^*"-'''^ 
 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 alone 
 the discourse was calculated. If the work be executed 
 for the public, he never sufficiently enlarges his com- 
 prehension, or forgets his interest as a friend or ene- 
 my, as a rival or commentator. By this means his 
 sentiments are perverted ; nor have the same beauties 
 and blemishes the same influence upon him, as if he 
 had imposed a proper violence on his imagination, and 
 had forgotten himself for a moment. So far his taste 
 evidently departs from the true standard, and of con- 
 sequence loses all credit and authority. 
 
 It is well known, that, in all questions submitted to 
 the understanding, prejudice is destructive of sound - 
 judgment, and perverts all operations of the^itelle£a. 
 tUciHacultJes : It is no less contrary to ^oodjiist^ ; nor
 
 272 ESSAY XXIIl. 
 
 ,j^>^'c ^si'^^^^jij^g jf Jgsg influence to corrupt our sentiment of beautv. 
 
 j^s/ejo-^'^^j^ /-I^ belongs io^ood seme to check its influence in both 
 cases ; and in this respect, as well as in many others, 
 reason, if not an essential part of taste, is at least re- 
 (juisite to the operations of this latter faculty. In all 
 the nobler productions of genius, there is a mutual re- 
 lation 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 nniformity of the 
 whole. Every work of art has also a cert ain e nd pr 
 jmrpose for which i t is calc ulated j jind is to be_ deemed 
 more or less perfect, as it is more or less fitted to at- 
 tain this end. The object of eloquence is to persuade, 
 of history to instruct, of poetry to please, by means of 
 the passions and the imagination. These ends we 
 must carry constantly in our view when we peruse any 
 performance ; and we must be able to judge how far 
 the means employed are adapted to their respective 
 purposes. liesides, every kind of composition, even 
 the most poetical, is nothing but a chain of propositions 
 and reasonings ; not always, indeed, the justest and 
 most exact, but still plausible and specious, however 
 disguised by the colouring of tiie imagination. The 
 ♦ persons introduced in tragedy and epic poetry must be 
 >, represented as reasoning, and thinking, and conclud- 
 "^ ing, and acting, suitably to their character and circum- 
 Mjy stances ; and without judgment, as well as taste and 
 
 invention, a poet can never hope to succeed in so deli- 
 cate an undertaking. Not to mention, that the same 
 excellence of faculties which contributes to the im- 
 provement of reason, the same clearness of conception, 
 the same exactness of distinction, the same vivacity of
 
 ^ 
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 273 
 
 apprehension, are essential to the operations of true 
 taste, and are its infallible concomitants. It seldom or 
 never happens, that a man of sense, who has expe- 
 rience 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 organs of internal sensation are seldom 
 so perfect as to allow the general principles their full 
 play, and produce a feeling correspondent to those 
 principles. They either labour under some defect, or 
 are vitiated by some disorder ; and by that means ex- 
 cite a sentiment, which may be pronounced erroneous. 
 When the critic has no delicacy, he judges without any ^*>»-*^"^ 
 distinction, and is only affected by the grosser and 
 more palpable qualities of the object : The finer touches 
 pass unnoticed and disregarded. Where he is not o^ncxa^^*^^^ 
 aided by practice, his verdict is attended with confu- 
 sion and hesitation. Where no comparison has been ^i.©**"^'*'**''*''*^ 
 employed, the most frivolous beauties, such as rather 
 merit the name of defects, are the object of his admira- 
 tion. Where he lies under the influence of prejudice, j^^-^^^i-**^"^^ 
 all his natural sentiments are perverted. Where good -^ f:,^/rsuj 
 sense is wanting, he is not qualified to discern the 
 beauties of design and reasoning, which are the highest 
 and most excellent. Under some or other of these 
 imperfections, the generality of men labour; and hence 
 a true judge in the finer arts is observed, even during 
 the most polished ages, to be so rare a character : ; 
 Strong sense, un ited to del icate sentiment, improved 
 by practice, perfected b y compariso n, and cleared of 
 
 VOL. III. s Av^ "^^^ eA!;:Wi) 
 
 -5^^
 
 274 ESSAY xxirr. 
 
 ^v\>^ jall prejudice^ can alone entitl e critics to t his valuable 
 ^,_€^ charac ter ; and the joint v erdict of such, wh ereve r 
 
 ^^ thej are to be found, i s the tr ue standard of taste an d 
 \J' beauty. 
 
 But where are such critics to be found ? By what 
 
 marks are they to be known ? How distinguish them 
 
 from pretenders ? These questions are embarrassing; 
 
 ., and seem to throw us back into the same uncertainty 
 
 "■^fi^^ from which, during the course of this Essay, we have 
 
 ■ ^ endeavoured to extricate ourselves. 
 
 But if we consider the matter aright, these are ques- 
 tions of fact, not of sentiment. Whether any particu- 
 lar person be endowed with good sense and a delicate 
 imagination, free from prejudice, may often be the 
 subject of dispute, and be liable to great discussiori 
 and inquiry : But that such a character is valuable and 
 estimable, will be agreed in by all mankind. Where 
 these doubts occur, men can do no more than in other 
 ^j^jjjiu^^js^^ disputable questions which are submitted to the under- 
 • ^ a*;4ina"^t^"^^'"o • '^'li^y niust produce the best arguments that 
 their invention suggests to them ; they must acknow- 
 ledge a true and decisive, staiidiU'd to exist somewhere, 
 to wit, real existence and matter of fact; and they must 
 have iiidi'.lirence to such as differ from them in their 
 1 appeals to this standard. It is sufficient for our pre- 
 sent purj:>osc, if we have proved, tliat the taste of alt 
 individuals is not upon an e([ual footing, and that some 
 men in general, iiowever difficult to be particularly 
 j'.itched upon, will be acknowledged by universal senti- 
 ment to have a preference above others. 
 
 But, in reality, the difficulty of finding, even in par- 
 ticulars, the stiindard of taste, is not so great as it is- 
 represented, 'i'hough in speculation we may readily 
 avow a certain ciit- rion in science, nm] denv it in sen-
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 275 
 
 timent, the matter is found in practice to be much 
 more hard to ascertain in the former case than in the onisiAjiai 
 latter. Theories of abstract philosophy, systems of ^"ua/"-*^ 
 profound theology, have prevailed during one age : in ^^£^>.^ 
 a successive period these have been universally explod- 
 ed : 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 elo- 
 quence and poetry. Just expressions of passion and 
 nature are sure, after a little time, to gain public ap- 
 plause, which they maintain for ever. Aristotle, and 
 Plato, and Epicurus, and Descartes, may successively 
 yield to each other : But Terence and Virgil maintain 
 an universal, undisputed empire over the minds of 
 men. The abstract philosophy of Cicero has lost its 
 credit : The vehemence of his oratory is still the object 
 of our admiration. 
 
 Though men of delicate taste be rare, they are easi- 
 ly to be distinguished in society by the soundness of 
 their understanding, and the superiority of their facul- 
 ties above the rest of mankind. The ascendant, vvliich 
 they acquire, gives a prevalence to that lively approba- 
 tion with which they receive any productions of ge- 
 nius, and renders it generally predominant. Many 
 men, when left to tliemselves, have but a faint and du- 
 bious perception of beauty, who yet are capable of re- 
 lishing any fine stroke which is pointed out to them. 
 Every convert to the admiration of the real poet or 
 orator, is the cause of some new conversion. And 
 though prejudices may prevail for a time, they never 
 unite in celebrating any rival to the true genius, but 
 
 s 2
 
 276 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 yield at last to the force of nature and just sentiment. 
 Tluis, thouoli a civilized nation may easily be mistaken 
 ' in the choice of their admired philosopher, they never 
 
 have been found long to err, in their affection for a fa- 
 vourite epic or tragic author. 
 
 But notwiLhstandiiifT all our endeavours to fix a 
 "" , standard of taste, and reconcile the discordant appre- 
 6^ 4iL-.r-A^>^ liensions of men, there still remain two sources of va- 
 ^.vw^,vM3«^ riation, which are not sufficient indeed to confound all 
 b i^'^^m'^ ^^^ boundaries of beauty and deformity, but will often 
 serve to produce a difference in the degrees of our ap- 
 *' probation or blame. The one is the different humours 
 of particular men ; the other, the particular manners 
 and opinions of our age and country. The general 
 principles of taste are uniform in human nature : Where 
 men vary in their judgments, some defect or perversion 
 in the faculties may commonly be remarked ; proceed- 
 ing either from prejudice, from want of practice, or 
 want of delicacy : and there is just reason for approv- 
 ing one taste, and condemning another. But where 
 there is such a diversity in the internal frame or exter- 
 nal situation as is entirely blameless on both sides, and 
 leaves no room to give one the preference above the 
 other ; in that case a certain_dcgree of diversity in, 
 "^ jud^rment is unavoidable, and we seek in vain for a 
 standard, by which we can reconcile the contrary sen- 
 timents. 
 
 A young man, whose passions are warm, will be more 
 sensibly touched with amorous and tender images, than 
 a man more advanced in years, who takes pleasure in 
 wise, philosophical reflections, concerning the conduct 
 of life, and moderation of the ))assions. At twenty, 
 Ovid may be the iiivourite author, Horace at forty, and 
 perhaps Tacitus at fifty. \'ainly would we, in such 

 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 277 
 
 cases, endeavour to enter into the sentiments of others, 
 and divest ourselves of those propensities which are 
 natural to us. We choose our favourite author as we^/ 
 do our friend, from a conformity of humour and dis- 
 position. Mirth or passion, sentiment or reflection ; 
 whichever of these most predominates in our temper, it 
 gives us a peculiar sympathy with the writer who re- 
 sembles us. 
 
 One person is more pleased with the sublime, ano- 
 ther with the tender, a third with raillery. One has a 
 strong sensibility to blemishes, and is extremely stu- 
 dious of correctness ; another has a more lively feeling 
 of beauties, and pardons twenty absurdities and defects 
 for one elevated or pathetic stroke. The ear of this 
 man is entirely turned towards conciseness and energy ; 
 that man is delighted with a copious, rich, and harmo- 
 nious expression. Simplicity is affected by one ; orna- 
 ment by another. Comedy, tragedy, satire, odes, have 
 each its partisans, who prefer that particular species of 
 writing to all others. It is plainly an error in a critic, 
 to confine his approbation to one species or style of 
 writing, and condemn all the rest. But it is almost im- 
 possible not to feel a predilection for that which suits 
 our particular turn and disposition. Such preferences 
 are innocent and unavoidable, and can never reason- 
 ably be the object of dispute, because there is no stand- 
 ard by which they can be decided. 
 
 ^ For alike reason, we are more pleased, in the course \/ 
 of our reading, with pictures and characters that resem- \ 
 ble objects which are found in our own age or country, 
 than with those which desci'ibe a different set of customs. 
 It is not without some effort that we reconcile ourselves 
 to the simplicity of ancient manners, and behold prin- 
 cesses carrying water from the spring, and kings and
 
 278 " ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 lierocs drcssino- tlicir 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 rea^ 
 son, comedy is not easily transferred from one age or 
 nation to another. A Frenchman or Enolishman is not 
 pleased with the Andria of Terence, or Cliiia of Ma- 
 chiavel ; where the fine lady, upon wliom all the play 
 turns, never once ajjpears to the spectators, but is al- 
 ways 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 au- 
 dience can never divest themselves so far of their usual 
 ideas and sentiments, as to relish pictures which nowise 
 resemble them. 
 ^^ But here there occurs a reflection, which may, per- 
 
 c^'^ jf, haps, be useful in examining the celebrated controversy 
 ^ concerninii ancient and modern learnini; ; where we 
 often find the one side excusing any seeming absurdity 
 in the ancients from the manners of the age, and the 
 other refusing to admit this excuse, or at least admit- 
 ting it only as an apology for the author, not for the 
 performance. J[n my opi nion^ tj ie-proper boundaries 
 in this subject hav e seldo m jbeen fix gd. betwt'pn thp r«>u- 
 tending jiai^es. Where any innocent peculiarities of 
 nuumers are represented, such as those above mention- 
 ed, they ought certainly to be admitted ; and a man who 
 is shocketl with them, gives an evident proof of false 
 delicacy and refinement. The poet's monument more 
 duruhle Ihcm Ijrass, must fall to the ground like common 
 brick or clay, were men to make no allowance for tlie 
 tontinual revolutions of manners and customs, and 
 woukl aduiil ol' nothing but what was suitable to the
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 279 
 
 prevailing fashion. Must we throw aside the pictures 
 of our ancestors, because of tlieir ruffs and farthingales ? 
 But where the id^as of morality, and clccency al ter froin _> 
 one age to^ another, and where yicious jpanjiers are de- 
 _scribec], without bein^jnarked with the pro per charac - 
 X _ters of blame and disapprobation^, this must be all owed 
 4— -tQ_disfigure the poem, and to be a real deformity. I 
 cannot, nor is it proper I should, enter into such sen- 
 timents ; and however I may excuse the poet, on ac- 
 count of the manners of his age, I can never 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 
 confounded ; and whatever indulgence we may give to 
 the writer on account of his prejudices, we cannot pre- 
 vail on ourselves to enter into his sentiments, or bear 
 an affection to characters which we plainly discover to 
 be blameable. 
 
 The case is not the same with moral principles as i*js<A, 
 with speculative opinions of any kind. These are in t^tr^^oisJi^ 
 continual flux and revolution. The son embraces a dif- s^^^^'^^^'-to-v 
 ferent system from the father. Nay, there scarcely is 
 any man, who can boast of great constancy and uni- 
 formity in this particular. Whatever speculative errors 
 may be found in the polite writings of any age or coun- 
 try, they detract but little from the value of those com- 
 positions. There needs but a certain turn of thought 
 or imagination to make us enter into all the opinions 
 wliich then prevailed, and relish the sentiments or con-^
 
 280 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 elusions derived from them. But a very violent effort 
 is requisite to change our judgment of manners, and 
 excite sentiments of appi'obation or blame, love or hatr 
 red, 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 reli^ 
 gion are the most excusable in compositions of genius; 
 nor is it ever permitted to judge of the civility or wis- 
 dom 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 ordi- 
 nary occurrences of life, is not hearkened to in religi- 
 ous matters, which are supposed to be placed altogether 
 above the cognizance of human reason. On this ac- 
 coimt, all the absurdities of the Pagan system of theo- 
 logy 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 indul- 
 •^tToS^y^ jrence to their forefathers. (No religious principles can 
 _y' .% ever be imputed as a fault to any poet, while they re- 
 s' main merely principles,') and take not such strong pos- 
 ^ session of his heart as to lay him under the imputa- 
 tion of hi<rptrij or sujierstiiion. Where that happens, 
 they confound the sentiments of morality, and alter 
 the natural boundaries of vice and virtue. They are 
 therefore eternal blemishes, according to the principle 
 above mentioned ; nor are the prejudices and false o- 
 pinions of the age sufficient to justify them. 
 "/ It is essential to the Roman Catholic religion to in- 
 •,pire a violent hatred of every other worship, and to
 
 OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE. 281 
 
 represent all Pagans, Mahometans, and heretics, as the 
 objects of divine wrath and vengeance. Such senti- 
 ments, 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 Ijigpt^y has disfi- 
 gured two very fine tragedies of the P'rench theatre, 
 PoLiEUCTE and Athalia; where an intemperate 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 
 the priest of Baal, ' Does the daughter of David 
 speak to this traitor ? Are you not afraid lest the 
 earth should open, and pour forth flames to devour you 
 both ? Or lest these holy walls should fall and crush 
 you together ? What is his purpose ? Why comes that 
 enemy of God hither to poison the air, which we 
 breathe, with his horrid presence?' Such sentiments 
 are received with great applause on the theatre of Paris; 
 but at London the spectators would be full as much 
 pleased to hear Achilles tell Agamemnon, that he was 
 a dog in his forehead, and a deer in his heart ; or Ju- 
 piter threaten Juno with a sound drubbing, if she will 
 not be quiet. 
 / Religious principles are also a blemish in any polite 
 ' composition, when they rise up to superstition, and in- 
 trude 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 religious ceremonies and observances, 
 that no part of it was exempt from that yoke. It must 
 for ever be ridiculous in Petrarch to compare his mis- 
 tress, Laura, to Jesus Christ. Nor is it less ridicu-
 
 282 ESSAY XXIII. 
 
 lous in tliat agreeable libertine, Boccace, very seri- 
 ously to give thanks to God Alniiglity and the ladies, 
 for their assistance in deiendin<i: him ajjainst his ene- 
 mies. 

 
 ESSAYS 
 MORAL, POLITICAL, AND LITERARY. 
 
 PART IL 
 
 PUBLISHED IN MnCCLII.
 
 OF COMMERCE. 285 
 
 ESSAY I. 
 
 OF COMMERCE. 
 
 The greater part of mankind may be divided into 
 two classes ; that of s/ialloiv thinkers, who fall short of 
 the truth ; and that of abstruse thinkers, who go be- 
 yond it. The latter class are by far the most rare ; and, 
 I may add, by far the most useful and valuable. They 
 sufo-est 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 un- 
 common ; and if it should cost some pains to compre- 
 hend 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 shalloxv thought are apt to decry even 
 those of solid understanding, as abstruse thinkers, and 
 metaphysicians, and refiners ; and never will allow any 
 thing to be just which is beyond their own weak con- 
 ceptions. There are some cases, I own, where an ex- 
 traordinary refinement affords a strong presumption of 
 falsehood, and where no reasoning is to be trusted but
 
 2SG ESSAY r. 
 
 what is natural and easy. When a man tlehberates 
 concerninj; his conduct in any jiarticidar affair, and 
 forms schemes in pohtics, trade, economy, or any bu- 
 sines in life, he never ought to draw his arguments too 
 fine, or connect too long a chain of consequences to- 
 gether. Something is sure to happen, that will dis^ 
 concert 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 fine, provided they 
 be just ; and that the difference between a common 
 man and a man of genius is chiefly seen in the shallow- 
 ness or depth of the principles upon which they pro- 
 ceed. General reasonings seem intricate, merely be- 
 cause they are general ; nor is it easy for the bulk of 
 mankind to distinguish, in a great number of particu- 
 lars, that common circumstance in which they all a- 
 gree, or to extract it, pure and unmixed, from the 
 other superfluous circumstances. Every judgment or 
 conclusion with them is particular. They cannot en- 
 large their view to those universal proj)ositions which 
 comprehend under them an infinite number of indivi- 
 duals, and include a whole science in a single theorem. 
 Their eye is confounded with such an extensive pro- 
 spect ; and the conclusions derived from it, even though 
 clearly expressed, seem intricate and obscure. But 
 however intricate they may seem, it is certain that ge- 
 neral principles, if just and sound, must always prevail 
 in the general course of things, though they may fail 
 in ))articular cases; and it. is the chief business of phi- 
 losophers to regard the general course of things. I 
 may add, that it is also the ciiief business of jioliticians, 
 especially in tlu; domestic government of the state, 
 where the public good, which is or ought to be their
 
 or C03IMERCE. 287 
 
 object, depends on the concurrence of a multitude of 
 causes ; not, as in foreign politics, on accidents and 
 chances, and the caprices of a few persons. This 
 therefore makes the difference between jjarticular de- 
 liberations and general reasonings, and renders subtil- 
 ty and refinement much more suitable to the latter 
 than to the former. 
 
 I thought this introduction necessary before the fol- 
 lowing discourses on Commerce^ Money, Interest, Ba- 
 lance of Trade, ^c., where perhaps there will occur 
 some principles which are uncommon, and which may 
 seem too refined and subtle for such vulgar subjects. 
 If false, let them be rejected ; but no one ought to en-> 
 tertain a prejudice against them merely because they 
 are out of the common road. 
 
 The greatness of a state, and the happiness of its 
 subjects, how independent soever they may be suppos- 
 ed in some respects, are commonly allowed to be inse- 
 parable 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 powerful in proportion to the opulence and 
 extensive commerce of private men. This maxim is 
 true in general, though I cannot forbear thinking that 
 it may possibly admit of exceptions, and that we often 
 establish it with too little reserve and limitation. There 
 may be some circumstances where the commerce, and 
 riches, and luxury of individuals, instead of adding 
 strength to the public, will serve only to thin its ar- 
 mies, and diminish its authority among the neighbour- 
 ing nations. Man is a very variable being, and sus- 
 ceptible of many different opinions, principles, and 
 rules of conduct. What may be true, while he ad- 
 heres to one way of thinking, will be found false, when
 
 28S ESSAY r. 
 
 he has embraced an opposite set of manners and opi- 
 nions. 
 
 TJie bulk of every state may be divided into hus- 
 bandmen and manufacturers. The former are employ- 
 ed in the culture of the land ; the latter works up the 
 materials furnished by the former, into all the commo- 
 dities which are necessary or ornamental to human 
 life. As soon as men quit their savage state, where 
 they live chiefly by hunting and fishing, they must fall 
 into these two classes, though the arts of agriculture 
 employ, at Jirst, the most numerous part of the so- 
 ciety. "* 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 em- 
 ployed in its culture, or who furnish the more neces- 
 sary manufactures to such as are so employed. 
 
 If these superfluous hands apply themselves to the 
 finer arts, which are commonly denominated the arts 
 of luxury, they add to the happiness of the state, since 
 they afford to many the opportunity of receiving en- 
 joyments with which they would otherwise have been 
 unacquainted. But may not another scheme be pro- 
 posed 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 na- 
 
 " Mons. jMelon, in his ]K)liticaI Essay on Commerce, asserts, that even 
 at present, if you divide France into twenty parts, sixteen arc labourers 
 or peasants ; two only artisans ; one belonging to the law, church, and 
 military ; and one merchants, financiers, and bourgeois. This calcula- 
 tion is certainly very erroneous. In France, England, and indeed most 
 parts of Europe, lialf of the inhabitants live in cities; and even of those 
 who live in tlie country, a great number are artisans, perhajis above a 
 third.
 
 OF COMMERCE. 289 
 
 tions ? It is certain, that the fewer desires and wants 
 are found in the proprietors and labourers of land, the 
 fewer hands do they employ ; and consequently, the 
 superfluities of the land, instead of maintaining trades- 
 men and manufacturers, may support fleets and armies 
 to a much greater extent than where a great many arts 
 are required to minister to the luxury of particular per- 
 sons. Here, therefore, seems to be a kind of opposi- 
 tion between the greatness of the state and the happi- 
 ness of the subject. A state is never greater than when 
 all its superfluous hands are employed in the service of 
 the public. The ease and convenience of private per- 
 sons require that these hands should be employed in 
 their service. The one can never be satisfied but at 
 the expense of the other. As the ambition of the so- 
 vereign must entrench on the luxury of individuals, so 
 the luxury of individuals must diminish the force, and 
 check the ambition, of the sovereign. 
 
 Nor is this reasoning merely chimerical, but is found- 
 ed on history and experience. The republic of Spar- 
 ta 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 main- 
 tained so great a number of Spartans, had these latter 
 lived in ease and delicacy, and given employment to a 
 great variety of trades and manufactures. The like 
 policy may be remarked in Rome. And, indeed, 
 throughout all ancient history it is observable, that 
 the smallest republics raised and maintained greater 
 armies than states, consisting of triple the number of 
 inhabitants, are able to support at present. It is com- 
 
 VOL. III. T
 
 290 ESSAY I. 
 
 puted, that, in all European nations, the proportion be- 
 tween soldiers and j^eople does not exceed one to a 
 hundred. But we read, that the city of Rome alone, 
 with its small territory, raised and maintained, in early 
 times, ten legions aijainst the Latins. Athens, the 
 whole of whose dominons was not larger than York- 
 shire, sent to the expedition against Sicily near forty 
 thousand men. " Dionysius the elder, it is said, main- 
 tained a standing army of a hundred thousand foot, 
 and ten thousand horse, besides a large fleet of four 
 hundred sail : " though his territories extended no fur- 
 ther than the city of Syracuse, about a third of the 
 island of Sicily, and some sea-port towns and garrisons 
 on the coast of Italy and Illyricum. It is true, the an- 
 cient armies, in time of war, subsisted much upon plun- 
 der : But did not the enemy plunder in their turn ? 
 which was a more ruinous way of levying a tax than 
 any other that could be devised. In short, no proba- 
 ble reason can be assigned for the great power of the 
 more ancient states above the modern, but their want 
 of commerce and luxury. Few artisans were maintain- 
 ed by the labour of the farmers, and therefore more 
 soldiers might live upon it. Livy says, that Rome, in 
 his lime, 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. " Instead of those soldiers who 
 fought for liberty and empire in Camillus's time, there 
 were, in Augustus's days, musicians, painters, cooks, 
 
 •• Thucyijides, lib. vii. 
 
 ' DioD. Sic. lib. vii. This account, I own, is somewhat suspicious, not 
 to say worse ; chiefly because this anny was not composed of citizens, but 
 of mLTcenary forces. 
 
 " TiTi Livii, lib. vii. cap. 2V. « Adeo in qua; laboramus, ' says he 
 ' sola crevimus, divitias luxurieimjuc. '
 
 OF COMMERCE. 291 
 
 players, and tailors ; and if the land was equally culti- 
 vated at both periods, it could certainly maintain equal 
 numbers in the one profession as in the other. They 
 added nothing to the mere necessaries of life, in the 
 latter period more than in the former. 
 
 It is natural on this occasion to ask, whether sove- 
 reigns may not return to the maxims of ancient policy, 
 and consult their own interest in this respect, more 
 than the happiness of their subjects ? I answer, that it 
 appears to me almost impossible ; and that because an- 
 cient policy was violent, and contrary to the more na- 
 tural 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 tes- 
 timony of history less positive and circumstantial, such 
 a government would appear a mere philosophical whim 
 or fiction, and impossible ever to be reduced to prac- 
 tice. And thouffh the Roman and other ancient re- 
 publics were supported on principles somewhat more 
 natural, yet was there an extraordinary concurrence of 
 circumstances, to make them submit to such grievous 
 burdens. They were free states ; they were small ones; 
 and the age being martial, all their neighbours were 
 continually in arms. Freedom naturally begets public 
 spirit, especially in small states ; and this public spirit, 
 this amor jpatrice^ must increase, when the public is al- 
 most in continual alarm, and men are obliged every 
 moment to expose themselves to the greatest dangers 
 for its defence. A continual succession of wars makes 
 every citizen a soldier : He takes the field in his turn : 
 And during his service he is chiefly maintained by him- 
 self. This service is indeed equivalent to a heavy tax ; 
 
 T 2
 
 292 ESSAY I. 
 
 yet is it less felt by a people addicted to arms, who 
 ii^lit tor honour and reven<re more than pay, and are 
 unacquainted with gain and industry, as well as plea- 
 sure. * Not to mention the great e(juality of fortunes 
 among the inhnbitants of the ancient republics, where 
 every field, belonging to a different proprietor, was 
 able to maintain a family, and rendered the numbers of 
 citizens very considerable, even without trade and 
 manufactures. 
 
 But though the want of trade and manufactures a- 
 mong 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 affldrs, it will have a quite contrary tendency. 
 Sovereigns must take mankind as they find them, and 
 cannot pretend to introduce any violent change in their 
 principles and ways of thinking. A long course of 
 time, with a variety of accidents and circumstances, 
 are requisite to produce those great revolutions, which 
 so much diversify the face of human affairs. And the 
 
 •^ The more ancient Romans lived in perpetual war with all their neigh- 
 bours : and in old Latin, tlie term Itoslis, 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 deno- 
 mination of an enemy, by calling him by the same appellation which 
 signified a stranger. I)e Off. lib. ii. It is however much more probable, 
 from the manners of Uie times, that the ferocity of those people was so 
 great as to make them regard all strangers as enemies, and call them by 
 the same name. It is not, besides, consistent with the most common 
 maxims of policy or of nature, that any state should regard its public 
 enemies with a friendly eye, or preserve any sucli sentiments for them as 
 the Roman orator would ascribe to his ancestors. Not to mention, that 
 the early Romans really exercised piracy, as we learn from their first 
 treaties with Carthage, preserved by I'olybius, HI), iii. and consequently, 
 like the Sallee and Algeiiiie rovers, were actually at war with most na- 
 tions, and a stranger and an enemy were with them almost synonymous.
 
 OF COMMERCE. 293 
 
 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 man- 
 kind, 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 aggran- 
 dizes the public by the poverty of individuals. This 
 will easily appear from a few considerations, which will 
 present to us the consequences of sloth and barbarity. 
 Where manufactures and mechanic arts are not cul- 
 tivated, 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, 
 be^'ond what suffices to maintain them. They have no 
 temptation, therefore, to increase their skill and indus- 
 ti'y; since they cannot exchange that superfluity for 
 any commodities which may serve either to their plea- 
 sure 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 farmers. If at any time the public exi- 
 gencies require that great numbers should be employ- 
 ed in the public service, the labour of the people fur- 
 nishes now no superfluities by which these numbers 
 can be maintained. The labourers cannot increase 
 their skill and industry on a sudden. Lands unculti- 
 vated cannot be brought into tillage for some years. 
 The armies, mean while, must either make sudden and 
 violent conquests, or disband for want of subsistence. 
 A regular attack or defence, therefore, is not to be ex- 
 pected from such a people, and their soldiers must be
 
 29-1 ESSAY r. 
 
 as io-noraiit :iiul im-^kilt'iil as tlicir fanners and manu- 
 factnrer.s. 
 
 Every tiling in the world is purchased by labour ; 
 and our passions are the only causes of labour. When 
 a nation abounds in manufactures and mechanic arts, 
 the proprietors of land, as well as the farmers, study 
 agriculture as a science, and redouble their industry and 
 attention. The superfluity which arises from their la- 
 bour is not lost, but is exchanged with manufactures 
 for those commodities which men's luxury now makes 
 them covet. By this means, land furnishes a great 
 deal more of the necessaries of life than what suffices 
 for those who cultivate it. In times of peace and tran- 
 quillity, 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 ma- 
 nufacturers into soldiers, and maintain them by that 
 superfluity which arises from the labour of the farmers. 
 Accordingly we find, that tiiis is the case in all civi- 
 lized governments. 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 subsistence. Those who labour in 
 such commodities must either enlist in the troops, or 
 turn themselves to agriculture, and thereby oblifre 
 .some labourers to enlist for want of business. And to 
 consider the matter abstractedly, manufactures increase 
 the power of the state only as they store up so nuich 
 labour, and that of a kind to which the public may lay 
 claim, without depriving any oneoftiie necessaries of 
 life. The more labour, therefore, that is employed be- 
 yond mere necessaries, the more powerful is any state ; 
 since the persons engaged in that labour may easily 
 be converted to the public service. In a state without
 
 OF COMMERCE. 295 
 
 manuractures, there may be the same number of haiuls; 
 but there is not the same quantity of hibour, nor ol" the 
 same kind. All the labour is there bestowed upon ne- 
 cessaries, which can admit of little or no abatement. 
 
 Thus the greatness of the sovereign, and the hap- 
 piness of the state, are in a great measure united with 
 regard to trade and manufactures. It is a violent me- 
 thod, and in most cases impracticable, to oblige the 
 labourer to toil, in order to raise from the lantl more 
 than what subsists himself and family. Furnish him 
 with manufactures and commodities, and he will do it 
 of himself; afterwards you will find it easy to seize 
 some part of his superfluous labour, and employ it in 
 the public service, v/ithout giving him his wonted re- 
 turn. 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 
 magazine of arms ; all these must be allowed real rich- 
 es and strength in any state. Trade and industry are 
 really nothing but a stock of labour, which, in times 
 of peace and tranquillity, is employed for the ease and 
 satisfaction of individuals, but in the exigencies of state, 
 may in part be turned to public advantage. Could we 
 convert a city into a kind of fortified camp, and infuse 
 into each breast so martial a genius, and such a passion 
 for public good, as to make every one willing to under- 
 go the greatest hardships for the sake of the public, 
 ihese affections might now, as in ancient times, prove 
 .alone a sufficient spur to industry, and support the
 
 2€6 ESSAY I. 
 
 community. It would then be advantageous, as in 
 camps, to banish all arts and luxury ; and by restric- 
 tions on equipage and tables, make the provisions and 
 forage last longer than if the army were loaded with a 
 number of superfluous retainers. But as these princi- 
 ples are too disinterested, and too difficult to support, 
 it is requisite to govern men by other passions, and 
 animate them with a spirit of avarice and industry, art 
 and luxury. The camp is, in this case, loaded with a 
 superfluous retinue, but the provisions flow in propor- 
 tionably 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 
 advantage olfm-eign commerce in augmenting the pow- 
 er of the state, as well as the riches and happiness of 
 the subject. It increases the stock of labour in the 
 nation ; and the sovereign may convert what share of 
 it he finds necessary to the service of the public. Fo- 
 reign trade, by its imports, furnishes materials for new 
 manufactures ; and, by its exports, it produces labour 
 in particular commodities, which could not be consum- 
 ed at home. In short, a kingdom that has a large im- 
 port and export, must abound more with industry, and 
 that employed upon delicacies and luxuries, than a 
 kingdom which rests contented with its native com- 
 moditles. It is therefore more powerful, as well as 
 richer and happier. The individuals reap the benefit 
 of these commodities, so far as they gratify the senses 
 and appetites ; and the public is also a gainer, while 
 a greater stock of labour is, by this means, stored up 
 against any public exigency ; that is, a greater number 
 of laborious men are maintained, who may be diverted
 
 OF COMMERCE. 29T 
 
 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 na- 
 tions foreign trade has preceded any refinement in 
 home manufactures, and given birth to domestic luxury. 
 The temptation is stronger to make use of foreign com- 
 modities which are ready for use, and which are en- 
 tirely new to us, than to make improvements on any 
 domestic commodity, which always advance by slow 
 degrees, and never affect us by their novelty. The 
 profit is also very great in exporting what is super- 
 fluous at home, and what bears no price, to foreign na- 
 tions whose soil or climate is not favourable to that 
 commodity. Thus men become acquainted with the 
 j)lcas2ircs of luxury, and the lyrojits 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 perhaps 
 is the chief advantage which arises from a commerce 
 with strangers. It rouses men from their indolence ; 
 and, presenting the gayer and more opulent part of the 
 nation with objects of luxury which they never before 
 dreamed of, raises in them a desire of a more splendid 
 way of life than what their ancestors enjoyed. And at 
 the same time, the few merchants who possess the se- 
 cret of this importation and exportation, make great 
 profits, and, becoming rivals in wealth to the ancient 
 nobility, tempt other adventurers to become their rivals 
 in commerce. Imitation soon diffuses all those arts, 
 while domestic manufacturers emulate the foreio-n in 
 their improvements, and work up every home commo- 
 dity to the utmost perfection of which it is susceptible. 
 Their own steel and iron, in such laborious hands, be- 
 come equal to the gold and rubies of the Indies,
 
 908 ESSAY r; 
 
 V\'hen the afliiirs of the society are once brought to 
 tills situation, a nation may lose most of its foreign 
 trade, antl yet continue a great and powerful people. If 
 strangers will not take any particular conmiodity of 
 ours, we must cease to labour in it. The same hands 
 will turn themselves towards some refinement in other 
 commodities which may be wanted at home ; and there 
 must always be materials for them to work upon, till 
 every person in the state who possesses riches, enjoys 
 as great plenty of home commodities, and those in as 
 great perfection, as he desires ; which can never pos- 
 sibly happen. China is represented as one of the most 
 flourishing empires in the world, though it has very 
 little commerce beyond its own territories. 
 
 It will not, I ho])e, be considered as a superfluous 
 digression, if I here observe, that as the multitude of 
 mechanical arts is advantageous, so is the great num- 
 ber of persons to whose share the productions of these 
 arts fall. A too great disproportion among the citizens 
 weakens any state. Every person, if possible, ought 
 to enjoy the fruits of his labour, in a full possession of 
 all the necessaries, and many of the conveniences of 
 life. No one can doubt but such an equality is most 
 suitable to human nature, and diminishes much less 
 from the hupinness of the rich, than it adds to that of 
 the poor. It also augments the^joww of the state, and 
 makes any extraordinary taxes or impositions be paid 
 with more cheerfulness. Where the riches are engros- 
 sed by a few, these must contribute very largely to the 
 sup])lying of the public necessities ; but when the riches 
 are dispersed among multitudes, the burden feels light 
 on every shoulder, and the taxes make not a very sen- 
 sible dilference on any one's way of living. 
 
 Add to this, that where the riches are in few hands,
 
 OF COMiMEUCE. 299 
 
 these must enjoy all the power, and will readily con- 
 spire to lay the whole burden on the poor, and oppress 
 them still farther, to the discouragement of all in- 
 dustry. 
 
 In this circumstance consists the great advantage of 
 England above any nation at present in the world, or 
 that appears in the records of any story. It is true, 
 the English feel some 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 ma- 
 terial circumstance, it is not to be put in competition 
 with the happiness of so many millions ; and if there 
 were no more to endear to them that free government 
 under which they live, this alone were sufficient. The 
 poverty of the common people is a natural, if not an 
 infoUible effect of absolute monarchy; though I doubt, 
 whether it be always true on the other hand, that their 
 riches are an infallible result of liberty. Liberty must 
 be attended with particular accidents, and a certain 
 turn of thinking, in order to produce that effect. Lord 
 Bacon, accounting for the great advantages obtained 
 by the English in their wars with France, ascribes them 
 chiefly to the superior ease and plenty of the common 
 people amongst the former ; yet the government of the 
 two kingdoms was, at that time, pretty much alike. 
 Where the labourers and artisans are accustomed to 
 work for low wages, and to retain but a small part of 
 the fruits of their labour, it is difficult for them, even 
 in a free government, to better their condition, or con- 
 spire 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 go-;- 
 vernment, to conspire against them, and throw the 
 >vhole burden of the taxes on their shoulders.
 
 300 ESSAY I. 
 
 It may seem an odd position, that tlie poverty of the 
 common people in France, Italy, and Spain, is, in 
 ^ some measure, owing to the superior riches of the soil 
 and hajipiness of chmate ; yet there want no reasons to 
 justify this paradox. In sucli a fine mould or soil as 
 that of those more southern regions, agriculture is an 
 easy art ; and one man, with a couple of sorry horses, 
 will be able, in a season, to cultivate as much land as 
 will pay a pretty considerable rent to the proprietor. 
 AH the art which the farmer 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 fertility. Such poor 
 peasants, therefore, require only a simple maintenance 
 for their labour. They have no stock or riches which 
 claim more ; and at the same time they are for ever de- 
 pendent on the landlord, who gives no leases, nor fears 
 that his land will be sj)oiled by the ill methods of cul- 
 tivation. In England, the land is rich, but coarse; 
 must be cultivated at a great expense; and produces 
 slender 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 considerable stock, and a long lease ; which 
 beget proportional profits. The vineyards of Cham- 
 pagne and Burgundy, that often yield to the landlord 
 above five pounds ycr acre, are cultivated by peasants 
 who have scarcely bread : The 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 better circumstan- 
 ces 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 pro-
 
 OF COMMERCE. 301 
 
 portlonable to their expense and hazard. Where so 
 considerable a number of the labouring poor, as the 
 peasants and farmers, are in very low circumstances, 
 all the rest must partake of their poverty, whether the 
 govermnentof that nation be monarchical or republican. 
 We may form a similar remark with regard to the 
 general history of mankind. W^hat is the reason why 
 no people living between the ti'opics, could ever yet 
 attain to any art or civility, or reach even any police 
 in their government, and any military discipline, while 
 few nations in the temperate climates have been al- 
 together 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 necessity which is the 
 great spur to industry and invention. Curis acuens 
 mortalia corda. Not to mention, that the fewer goods 
 or possessions of this kind any people enjoy, the fewer 
 quarrels are likely to arise amongst them, and the less 
 necessity will there be for a settled police or regular au- 
 thorit}^, to protect and defend them from foreign ene- 
 mies, or from each other.
 
 302 
 
 ESSAY II. 
 
 ESSAY II. 
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. ^^ 
 
 Luxury is a word of an uncertain sif^nificatlon, 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, according to the age, or country, or con- 
 dition 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 grati- 
 fying of any sense, or the indulging of any delicacy in 
 meat, drink, or apparel, is of itself a vice, can never 
 enter into ahead, that is not disordered by the frenzies 
 of enthusiasm. I have, indeed, heard of a monk a- 
 broad, who, because the windows of liis cell opened 
 upon a noble prospect, made a covenant isoiih his cijes 
 never to turn that way, or receive so sensual a gratifi- 
 cation. And such is the crime of drinking Champagne 
 or Burgundy, preferably to small beer or porter. These 
 indulgences are only vices, when they are ])ursued 
 at the expense of some virtue, as liberality or charity ; 
 
 3 H In Lditions V, C, II, this Essay is entitled " Of Luxury. "
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 303 
 
 in like manner as they are follies, when for them a man 
 ruins his fortune, and reduces himself to want and 
 beggary. Where they entrench upon no virtue, but 
 leave ample subject whence to provide for friends, 
 family, and every proper object of generosity or com- 
 passion, they are entirely innocent, and have in every 
 age been acknowledged such by almost all moralists. 
 To be entirely occupied with the luxury of the table, 
 for instance, without any relish for the pleasures of am- 
 bition, study, or conversation, is a mark of stupidity, 
 and is incompatible with any vigour of temper or ge- 
 nius. To confine one's expense entirely to such a gra- 
 tification, without regard to friends or family, is an in- 
 dication of a heart destitute of humanity or benevo- 
 lence. But if a man reserve time suiHcient for all lau- 
 dable pursuits, and money sufficient for all generous 
 purposes, he is free from every shadow of blame or re- 
 proach. 
 
 Since luxury may be considered either as innocent 
 or blameable, one may be surprised at those preposter- 
 ous opinions which have been entertained concerning 
 it ; while men of libertine principles bestow praises 
 even on vicious luxury, and represent it as highly ad- 
 vantageous 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 {xovernmiCnt. 
 We shall here endeavour to correct both these ex- 
 tremes, by prox'mg, Jirsi, that the ages of refinement are 
 both the happiest and most virtuous ; secondhj^ 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 per- 
 nicious, to political society. 
 
 A-
 
 iOi ESSAY II. 
 
 To prove the first point, we need but consider the 
 > effects of refinement both on private and on public life. 
 Human hap))iness, accordintr to the most received no- 
 tions, seems to consist in three inijjredients ; action, 
 - pleasure, and indolence : And though these ingredi- 
 ents ought to be mixed in different proportions, ac- 
 cording to the particular disposition of the person ; yet 
 no one ingredient can be entirely wanting, without de- 
 stroying, in some measure, the relish of the whole com- 
 position. Indolence or repose, indeed, seems not of 
 itself to contribute much to our enjoyment ; but, like 
 sleep, is requisite as an indulgence, to the weakness of 
 human nature, which cannot su]:)port an uninterrupted 
 course of business or pleasure. That quick march of 
 the spirits, which takes a man from himself, and chiefly 
 gives satisfaction, does in the end exhaust the mind, 
 and requires some intervals of repose, which, though 
 agreeable for a moment, yet, if prolonged, beget a 
 laufuor and lethargy, that destroy all enjoyment. Edu- 
 cation, custom, and example, have a mighty influence 
 in turning the mind to any of these pursuits ; and it 
 must be owned that, where they promote a relish for 
 action and pleasure, they are so favourable to human 
 hajipiness. In times when mdustry and the arts flour- 
 ish, men are kept in perpetual occupation, and enjoy, 
 as their reward, the occupation itself, as well as those 
 pleasures which are the fruit of their labour. The 
 mind ac(piires new vigour ; enlarges its powers and 
 faculties ; and, by an assiduity in honest industry, both 
 satisfies its natural appetites, and prevents the growth 
 of unnatural ones, which commonly spring up, when 
 nourished by ease and idleness. Banish those arts from 
 society, you deprive men both of action and of plea- 
 sure ; and, leaving nothing but indolence in their place,
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 305 
 
 you even destroy the relish of indolence, which never 
 is agreeable, but when it succeeds to labour, and re- 
 cruits the spirits, exhausted by too much application 
 and fatiijue. 
 
 Another advantage of industry and of refinements in 
 the mechanical arts, is, that they commonly produce 
 some refinements in the liberal ; nor can one be carried 
 to perfection, without being accompanied, in some de- 
 gree, with the other. The same age which produces 
 great philosophers and politicians, renowned generals 
 and poets, usually abounds with skilful weavers, and 
 ship-carpenters. We cannot reasonably expect, that 
 a piece of woollen cloth will be wrought to perfection in 
 a nation which is ignorant of astronomy, or where ethics 
 are neglected. The spirit of the age affects all the arts, 
 and the minds of men being once roused from their 
 lethargy, and put into a fermentation, turn themselves 
 on all sides, and carry improvements into every art 
 and science. Profound ignorance is totally banished, 
 and men enjoy the privilege of rational creatures, to 
 think as well as to act, to cultivate the pleasures of the 
 mind as well as those of the body. 
 
 The more these refined arts advance, the more so- 
 ciable men become : Nor is it possible, that, when en- 
 riched with science, and possessed of a fund of con- 
 versation, they should be contented to remain in soli- 
 tude, or live with their fellow-citizens in that distant 
 manner, which is peculiar to ignorant and barbarous 
 nations. They flock into cities ; love to receive and 
 communicate knowledge ; to show their wit or their 
 breeding; their taste in conversation or living, in clothes 
 or furniture. Curiosity allures the wise ; vanity the 
 foolish ; and pleasure both. Particular clubs and so- 
 cieties are every where formed : Both sexes meet in 
 
 VOL. III. u
 
 306 ESSAY II. 
 
 an easy and sociable manner ; and the tempers of men, 
 as well as their behaviour, refine apace. So that, be- 
 side the improvements which they receive from know- 
 ledge 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 
 pleasure and entertainment. Thus industry, knotsdedge, 
 and humanity, are linked together, by an indissoluble 
 chain, and are found, from experience as well as rea- 
 son, to be peculiar to the more polished, and, what are 
 commonly denominated, the more luxurious ages. 
 
 Nor are these advantages attended with disadvantajjes 
 that bear any proportion to them. The more men re- 
 fine upon pleasure, the less will they indulge in exces- 
 ses of any kind ; because nothing is more destructive 
 to true pleasure than such excesses. One may safely 
 affirm, that the Tartars are oftener guilty of beastly 
 gluttony, when they feast on their dead horses, than 
 European courtiers with all their refinements of cook- 
 ery. And if libertine love, or even infidelity to the 
 marriage-bed, be more frequent in polite ages, when it 
 is often regarded only as a piece of gallantry ; drunk- 
 enness, 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 Cassar, during Cataline's conspiracy, 
 being necessitated to put into Cato's hands a billet-doux, 
 which discovered 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 appellation of drunkard, as a term more op- 
 probrious than that with which he could more justly 
 have reproached him.
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 307 
 
 But industry, knowledge, and humanity, are not ad- 
 vantageous in private life alone ; they diffuse their be- 
 neficial influence on the jniblic, and render the govern- 
 ment as great and flourishing as they make individuals 
 happy and prosperous. The increase and consumption 
 of all the commodities, which serve to the ornament 
 and pleasure of life, are advantages to society ; because, 
 at the same time that they multiply those innocent gra- 
 tifications to individuals, they are a kind of storehouse of 
 labour, which, in the exigencies of state, may be turned 
 to the public service. In a nation where there is no 
 demand for such superfluities, men sink into indolence, 
 lose all enjoyment of life, and are useless to the public, 
 which cannot maintain or support its fleets and armies 
 from the industry of such slothful members. 
 
 The bounds of all the European kingdoms are, at 
 present, nearly the same they were two hundred years 
 ago. But what a diflference is thei*e in the power and 
 grandeur of those kingdoms ? which can be ascribed 
 to nothing but the increase of art and industry. When 
 Charles VIIl. of France invaded Italy, he carried with 
 him about 20,000 men ; yet this armament so exhaust- 
 ed the nation, as we learn from Guicciardin, that for 
 some years it was not able to make so great an effort. 
 The late king of France, in time of war, kept in pay 
 above 400,000 men ; ^ though from Mazarine's death 
 to his own, he was engaged in a course of wars that 
 lasted near thirty years. 
 
 This industry is much promoted by the knowledge 
 inseparable 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, 
 
 - Tlie inscription on the Place- de-Vendome says 440,000. 
 
 u2
 
 308 fissAY rr. 
 
 order, police, discipline ; these can never be carried 
 to any degree of perfection, before human reason has 
 refined itself by exercise, and by an application to 
 the more vulgar arts, at least of commerce and manu- 
 fiacture. 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 government off its bias, 
 and disturbs men in the pursuit of their interest and 
 happiness. Knowledge in the arts of government be- 
 gets mildness and moderation, by instructing men in 
 the advantages of human maxims above rioour and se- 
 verity, whicli di'ive 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 hu- 
 manity appears still more conspicuous, and is the chief 
 characteristic which distino-uishes a civilized affe from 
 
 o o 
 
 limes of barbarity and ignorance. Factions are then 
 less inveterate, revolutions less tragical, authority less 
 severe, and seditions less frequent. Even foreign wars 
 abate of their cruelty; and after the field of battle, 
 where honour and interest steel men against compas- 
 sion, 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 liber- 
 ty. The arts have no such effect in enervating either 
 the mind or body. On the contrary, industry, their 
 inseparable attendant, 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 refine-
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 309 
 
 rnent ; a sense of honour, which is a stronger, more con- 
 stant, 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 peo- 
 ple. The ancients remarked, that Datames was the 
 only barbarian that ever knew the art of war. And 
 Pyrrhus, seeing the Romans marshal their army with 
 some art and skill, said with surprise. These barbarians 
 have nothing barbarous in their discipline ! It is obser- 
 vable, that, as the old Romans, by applying themselves 
 solely to war, were almost the only uncivilized people 
 that ever possessed military discipline ; so the modern 
 Italians are the only civilized people, among Europeans, 
 that ever wanted courage and a martial spirit. Those 
 who would ascribe this effeminacy of the Italians to their 
 luxury, or politeness, or application to the arts, need 
 but consider the French and English, whose brave- 
 ry is as incontestable as their love for the arts, and 
 their assiduity in commerce. The Italian historians 
 give us a more satisfactory reason for the 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 sub- 
 jects, the Florentine democracy applied itself entire- 
 ly to commerce ; Rome was governed by priests, and 
 Naples by women. War then became the business 
 of soldiers of fortune, who sj\ared one another, and, 
 to the astonishment of the world,' could engage a 
 whole day in what they called a battle, and return at 
 night to their camp without the least bloodshed. 
 
 What has chiefly induced severe moralists to declaim
 
 310 ESSAY II. 
 
 against refinement in the arts, is the example of ancient 
 Rome, which, joining to its poverty and rusticity virtue 
 and piibHc spirit, rose to such a surprising height of 
 grandeur and hberty ; but, having learned from its con- 
 quered provinces the Asiatic luxur}-, fell into every 
 kind of corruption ; whence arose sedition and civil 
 wars, attended at last with the total loss of liberty. All 
 the Latin classics, whom we peruse in our inflinc}', are 
 full of these sentiments, and universally ascribe the 
 ruin of their state to the arts and riches imported form 
 the East ; insomuch, that Sallust represents a taste for 
 painting as a vice, no less than lewdness and drinking. 
 And so popular were tliese sentiments, during the 
 latter ages of the republic, that this author abounds 
 in praises of the old rigid Roman virtue, though him- 
 self the most egregious instance of modern luxury and 
 corruption ; speaks contemptuously of the Grecian elo- 
 quence, though the most elegant writer in the world ; 
 nay, employs preposterous digressions and declama- 
 tions to this purpose, though a model of taste and cor- 
 rectness. 
 
 But it would be easy to prove, that these writers 
 mistook the cause of the disorders in the Roman state, 
 and ascribed to luxury and the arts, what really pro- 
 ceeded from an ill-modelled government, and the unli- 
 mited extent of concjuests. Refinement on the pleasures 
 and conveniences of life has no natural tendency to be- 
 get venality and corruption. The value which all men 
 put upon any particular pleasure, depends on com- 
 parison and experience ; nor is a porter less greedy of 
 money, which he spends on bacon and brandy, than 
 a courtier, who purchases champagne and ortolans. 
 Riches are valuable at all times, and to all men; be- 
 cause they always purchase pleasures, such as men are
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 311 
 
 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 
 defective in the arts of war as well as peace, mechanical 
 as well as liberal ; yet it is there that venality and cor- 
 ruption 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 improvements in the arts, have never flourished so 
 much as during 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 par- 
 liaments, or of terrifying parliaments by the phantom 
 of prerogative. Not to mention, that this corruption or 
 venality prevails much more among the electors than 
 the elected ; and therefore cannot justly be ascribed 
 to any refinements in luxury. 
 
 If we consider the matter in a proper light, we shall 
 find, that a progress in the arts is rather favourable to 
 liberty, and has a natural tendency to preserve, if not 
 produce a free government. In rude unpolished na- 
 tions, where the arts are neglected, all labour is be- 
 stowed on the cultivation of the ground ; and the whole 
 society is divided into two classes, proprietors of land, 
 and their vassals or tenants. The latter are necessarily 
 dependent, and fitted for slavery and subjection ; especi- 
 ally where they possess no riches, and are not valued for
 
 312 ESSAY ir. 
 
 their knowledge in agriculture ; as must always be the 
 case where the arts are neglected. The former natur- 
 ally 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 inde- 
 pendency, like the ancient barons, they must fall into 
 feuds and contests among themselves, and throw the 
 whole society into such confusion, as is perhaps worse 
 than the most despotic government. But where luxury 
 nourishes commerce and industry, the peasants, by a 
 proper cultivation of the land, become rich and inde- 
 pendent: while the tradesmen and merchants acquire 
 a share of the property', and draw authority and con- 
 sideration to that middling rank of men, who are the 
 best and firmest basis of public liberty. These submit 
 not to slavery, like the peasants, from poverty and mean- 
 ness of spirit ; and, having no hopes of tyrannizing 
 over others like the barons, they are not tempted, for 
 the sake of that gratification, to submit to the tyranny 
 of their sovereign. They covet equal laws, which may 
 secure their property, and preserve them from monar- 
 chical, as well as aristocratical tyranny. 
 
 The lower house is the support of our popular go- 
 vernment; and all the world acknowledges, that it owed 
 its chief influence and consideration to the increase 
 of commerce, which threw such a balance of proper- 
 ty into the hands of the Commons. How inconsist- 
 ent, then, is it to blame so violently a refinement in 
 the arts, and to represent it as the bane of liberty and 
 
 ibli c spirit ! 
 
 To declaim against present times, and magnify the 
 virtue of remote ancestors, is a propensity almost inhe- 
 rent in human nature: And as the sentiments and o- 
 jiinions of civilized ages alone are transmitted to pps-»
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 313 
 
 terity, hence it is that we meet with so many severe judg- 
 ments pronounced against luxury, and even science ; 
 and hence it is that at present we give so ready an as- 
 sent to them. But the flillacy is easily perceived, by 
 com})aring different nations that are contemporaries ; 
 where we both judge more impartially, and can better 
 set in opposition those manners, with which we are suf- 
 ficiently acquainted. Treachery and cruelty, the most 
 pernicious and most odious of all vices, seem peculiar to 
 uncivilized ages ; and, by the refined Greeks and Ro- 
 mans, were ascribed to all the barbarous nations which 
 surrounded them. They might justly, therefore, have 
 presumed, that their own ancestors, so highly celebrat- 
 ed, possessed no greater virtue, and were as much infe- 
 rior to their posterity in honour and humanity, as in 
 taste and science. An ancient Frank or Saxon may be 
 hjohlv extolled: But I believe every man would think 
 his life or fortune much less secure in the hands of a 
 Moor or Tartar, than in those of a French or English 
 gentleman, the rank of men the most civilized in the 
 most civilzed nations. 
 
 We come now to the second position which we pro- 
 posed to illustrate, to wit, that, as innocent luxury, or 
 a refinement in the arts and conveniences of life, is ad- 
 vantageous 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 
 gratification, however sensual, can of itself be esteemed 
 vicious. A gratification is only vicious when it engros- 
 ses all a man's expense, and leaves no ability for such 
 acts of duty and generosity as are required by \\h
 
 314. ESSAY 11. 
 
 situation and fortune. Suppose that he correct the vice, 
 and employ part of his expense in the education of his 
 children, in the support of his friends, and in relieving 
 the })oor ; would any prejudice result to society ? On 
 the contrary, the same consumption would arise ; and 
 that labour, which at present is employed only in pro- 
 ducing a slender gratification to one man, would re- 
 lieve the necessitous, and bestow satisfaction on hun- 
 dreds. The same care and toil that raise a dish of 
 peas at Christmas, would give bread to a whole fa- 
 mily, during six months. To say that, without a vi- 
 cious luxury, the labour would not have been em- 
 ployed at all, is only to say, that there is some other 
 defect in human nature, such as indolence, selfish- 
 ness, inattention to others, for which luxur}', in some 
 measure, provides a remedy ; as one poison may be an 
 antidote to another. But virtue, like Vv'holesome food, 
 is better than poisons, however corrected. 
 
 Suj^jiose the same number of men that are at pre- 
 sent in Great Britain, with the same soil and climate ; I 
 ask, is it not possible for them to be hap))ier, by the 
 most perfect way of life that can be imagined, and by 
 the greatest reformation that Omnipotence itself could 
 work in their temper and disposition ? To assert that 
 they cannot, appears evidently ridiculous. As the 
 land is able to maintain more than all its present in- 
 liabitants, 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 mise- 
 ries. All other ills spring from some vice, either in 
 ourselves or others; and even many of our diseases 
 proceed from the same origin. Remove the vices, and 
 the ills r(;ll()w. You must only take care to remove all 
 the vices. If you remove part, you may render the
 
 OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS. 315 
 
 matter worse. By banishing vicious luxury, without 
 curing slotli and an indifference to others, you only di- 
 minish industry in the state, and add nothing to men's 
 charity or their generosity. Let us, therefore, rest 
 contented with asserting, that two opposite vices in a 
 state may be more advantageous than either of them 
 alone ; but let us never pronounce vice in itself advan- 
 tageous. Is it not very inconsistent for an author to 
 assert in one page, that moral distinctions are inven- 
 tions of politicians for public interest, and in the next 
 page maintain, that vice is advantageous to the pub- 
 lic ? ^ And indeed it seems, upon any system of mora- 
 lity, 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 disputed in England. I call it a philosojohical 
 question, not a political one. For whatever may be 
 the consequence of such a miraculous transformation 
 of mankind, as would endow them with every species 
 of virtue, and free them from every species of vice, 
 this concerns not the magistrate, who aims only at 
 possibilities. He cannot cure every vice by substitut- 
 
 e Fable of the Bees. 
 
 3 9 Prodigality is not to be confounded with a refinement in the arts. 
 It even appears that that vice is much less frequent in the cultivated 
 ages. Industry and gain beget this frugality among the lower and mid- 
 dle ranks of men, and in all the busy professions. Men of high rank, 
 indeed, it may be pretended, are more allured by the pleasures which be- 
 come more frequent ; but idleness is the great source of prodigality at 
 all times ; and there are pleasures and vanities in every age, which al- 
 lure men equally when they are unacquainted with better enjoyments 
 not to mention that the high interest paid in rude times quickly con- 
 sumes the fortunes of the landed gentry, and multiplies their necessities, 
 — Edition N.
 
 31G ESSAY II. 
 
 ing a virtue in its place. Very often he can only cure 
 one vice by another ; and in that case he ought to pre- 
 fer what is least pernicious to society. Luxury, when 
 excessive, is the source of many ills, but is in general 
 preferable to sloth and idleness, which would common- 
 ly succeed in its place, and are more hurtful both to 
 private persons and to the public. When sloth reigns, 
 a mean uncultivated way of life prevails amongst indi- 
 viduals, without society, without enjoyment. And if 
 the sovereign, in such a situation, demands the service 
 of his subjects, the labour of the state suffices only to 
 furnish the necessaries of life to the labourers, and can 
 afford nothing to those who are employed in the pub- 
 )^ic service.
 
 OF MONEY. 317 
 
 ESSAY III. 
 
 OF MONEY. 
 
 Money is not, properly speaking, one of the sub- 
 jects of commerce, but only the instrument which men 
 have agreed upon to facilitate the exchange of one 
 commodity for another. It is none of the wheels of 
 trade : It is the oil which renders the motion of the 
 wheels more smooth and easy. If we 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 Han-y VII.'s time 
 served the same purpose as a pound does at present. 
 It is only the public which draws any advantage from 
 the greater plenty of money, and that only in its wars 
 and negociations with foreign states. And this is the 
 reason wliy all rich and trading countries, from Car- 
 thage 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 su- 
 perior riches, and from their great plenty of gold and 
 silver, since the pay of all their servants must rise in
 
 318 ESSAY III. 
 
 proiiortion to the public opulence. Our small army of 
 20,000 men is maintained at as great expense as a 
 French army twice as numerous. The English fleet, 
 during the late war, required as much money to sup- 
 port it as all the Roman legions, which kept the 
 whole world in subjection, during the time of the em- 
 perors. " 
 
 The great number of people, and their greater in- 
 dustry, are serriceable in all cases, at home and a- 
 broad, in private and in public. But the greater plen- 
 ty of money is very limited in its use, and may even 
 sometimes be a loss to a nation in its commerce with 
 foreigners. 
 
 There seems to be a happy concurrence of causes in 
 human affairs, which checks the growth of trade and 
 riches, and hinders them from being confined entirely 
 to one people, as might naturally at first be dread- 
 
 •" A private soldier in the Iloman infantry had a denarius a day, some- 
 what less than eigliteenpence. The Roman emperors had commonly 25 
 legions in pay, which, allowing 5000 men to a legion, makes 125,000, 
 Tacit, yinn. lib. iv. It is true there were also auxiliaries to the legions; 
 but tlieir numbers are uncertain as well as their pay. To consider only 
 the legionaries, the j)ay of the private men could not exceed 1,600,000 
 pounds. Now, the parliament in the last war commonly allowed for the 
 fleet 2,500,000. We have therefore 900,000 over for the officers and 
 other expenses of the Iloman legions. There seem to have been but 
 few officers in the Iloman armies in comparison of what are employed 
 in all our modern troops, except some Swiss corps. And these ofhcers 
 had very small pay : A centurion, for instance, only double a common 
 soldier. And as tJie soldiers from their jjay {Tacit. Ann. lib. i.) bought 
 their own clothes, arms, tents, and baggage ; this must also diminish 
 considerably the other cliarges of the army. So little expensive was that 
 miglity government, and so easy was its yoke over the world! And, in- 
 deed, this is the more natural conclusion from the foregoing calculations. 
 For money, after the conquest of Egypt, seems to have been nearly in 
 as great plenty at Rome as it is at present in the richest of the Euro- 
 pean kingdoms.
 
 OF MONEY. 319 
 
 ed from tlie advantages of an established commerce. 
 Where one nation has gotten the start of another in 
 trade, it is very difficult for the latter to regain the 
 ground it has lost, because of the superior 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 advan- 
 tages are compensated, in some measure, by the low 
 price of labour in every nation which has not an exten- 
 sive 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, whi- 
 ther they are allured by the cheapness of provisions 
 and labour, till they have enriched these also, and are 
 again banished by the same causes. And in general 
 we may observe, that the dearness of every thing, from 
 plenty of money, is a disadvantage which attends an 
 established commerce, and sets bounds to it in every 
 country, by enabling the poorer states to undersell the 
 richer in all foreign markets. 
 
 This has made me entertain a doubt concerning the 
 hene^t of ba7iks and paper- a-edit, which are so gene- 
 rally esteemed advantageous to every nation. That 
 provisions and labour should become dear by the in- 
 crease of trade and money, is, in many respects, an 
 inconvenience ; but an inconvenience that is unavoid- 
 able, and the effect of that public wealth and prospe- 
 rity which are the end of all our wishes. It is com- 
 pensated by the advantages which we reap from the 
 possession of these precious metals, and the weight 
 which they give the nation in all foreign wars and ne- 
 gociations. But there appears no reason for increasing 
 that inconvenience by a counterfeit money, which fo-
 
 320 ESSAY III. 
 
 reigncrs will not accept of in any payment, and vvliich 
 any great disorder in the state will reduce to nothing. 
 There are, it is true, many people in every rich state, 
 who, having large sums of money, would prefer paper, 
 with good security ; as being of more easy transport 
 and more safe custody. If the public provide not a 
 bank, private bankers will take advantage of this cir- 
 cumstance, as the goldsmiths formerly did in London, 
 or as the bankers do at present in Dublin : And there- 
 fore it is better, it may be thought, that a public com- 
 pany should enjoy the benefit of that paper-credit, 
 which always will have place in every opulent king- 
 dom. 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 in- 
 creasing money beyond its natural proportion to labour 
 and connnodities, and thereby heightening their price 
 to the merchant and manufacturer. And in this view, 
 it must be allowed, that no bank could be more advan- 
 tageous than such a one as locked up all the money it 
 received, ' and never augmented the circulating coin, 
 as is usual by returning part of its treasure into com- 
 merce. A public bank, by this expedient, might cut 
 off much of the dealings of private bankers and money- 
 jobbers : and though the state bore the charge of sa- 
 laries to the directors and tellers of this bank, (for, ac- 
 cording to the preceding supposition, it would have 
 no profit from its dealings), the national advantage, 
 resulting from the low price of labour and the destruc- 
 tion of paper- credit, would be a sufficient compensa- 
 tion. Not to mention, that so large a sum, lying ready 
 at command, would be a convenience in times of great 
 
 ' This is Uic cast' witli the bank of Anistcitlam.
 
 OF MONEY. 321 
 
 public danger and distress ; and what part of it was 
 used might be replaced at leisure, when peace and 
 tranquillity was restored to the nation. 
 
 But of this subject of paper-credit we shall treat 
 more largely hereafter. And I shall finisli this Essay 
 on Money, by proposing and explaining two observa- 
 tions, which may perhaps serve to employ the thoughts 
 of our speculative politicians. '^° 
 
 It was a shrewd observation of Anacharsis ' the 
 Scythian, who had never seen money in his own coun- 
 try, that gold and silver seemed to him of no use to 
 the Greeks, but to assist them in numeration and ar- 
 ithmetic. 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 na- 
 tion within itself; any more than it would make an al- 
 teration on a merchant's books, if, instead of the Ara- 
 bian method of notation, which requires few charac- 
 ters, he should make use of the Roman, which requires 
 a great many. Nay, the greater quantity of money, 
 like the Roman characters, is rather inconvenient, and 
 requires greater trouble both to keep and transport it. 
 But, notwithstanding this conclusion, which must be 
 allowed just, it is certain, that, since the discovery of 
 the mines in America, industry has increased in all the 
 
 4 o For to tlicse only I all along address myself. It is enough that I 
 submit to the ridicule sometimes in this age attached to the character of 
 a philosopher, without adding to it that which belongs to a projector. — 
 Editions F, G, H, N. 
 
 ' Plut. Quomodo <juis suos profectus in virtute senli'rc possit. 
 VOL. III. X
 
 322 
 
 ESSAY irr^ 
 
 nations of Europe, except in the possessors of those 
 mines; and this may justly be ascribed, amongst o- 
 ther reasons, to the increase of gold and silver. Ac- 
 cordingly we find, that, in every kingdom, into which 
 money begins to flow in greater abundance than for- 
 merly, every thing takes a new face : labour and indus- 
 try gain life ; the merchant becomes more enterprising, 
 the manufacturer more diligent and skilful, and even 
 the farmer Ibllows his plough with greater alacrity and 
 attention. This is not easily to be accounted for, if 
 we consider only the influence which a greater abun- 
 dance 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 
 disadvantageous, by raising the price of every kind of 
 labour. 
 
 To account, then, for this phenomenon, we must 
 consider, that though the high price of commodities 
 be a necessary consequence of the 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 first, no alteration is per- 
 ceived ; by degrees the price rises, first of one com- 
 modity, then of another; till the whole at last reaches 
 a just proportion widi the new quantity of specie which 
 is in the kingdom. In my opinion, it is only in this 
 interval or intermediate situation, between llie acquisi- 
 tion of money and rise of prices, that the increasing 
 (piantity of gold and silver is favourable to industry. 
 When any quantity of money is imported into a na- 
 tion, it is not at first dispersed into many hands; but
 
 OF MONEY. 3S3 
 
 IS confined to the coffers of a few persons, who imme- 
 diately seelc 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. If 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 
 fatigue. He carries his money to market, where he 
 finds every thing at the same price as formerly, but re- 
 turns with greater quantity, and of better kinds, for 
 the use of his family. The farmer and gardener, find* 
 hig 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 for- 
 merly, and their industry only whetted by so much 
 new gain. It is easy to trace the money in its progress 
 through the whole commonwealth ; where we shall 
 find, that it must first quicken the diligence of every 
 individual, before it increase the price of labour. 
 
 And that the specie may increase to a considerable 
 pitch, before it have this latter effect, appears, amongst 
 other instances, from the frequent operations of the 
 French king on the money; where it was always 
 found, that the augmenting of the numerary value did 
 not produce a proportional rise of the prices, at least 
 for some time. In the last year of Louis XIV. money 
 was raised three-sevenths, but prices augmented only 
 one. Corn in France is now sold at the same price, 
 
 X 2
 
 324 ESSAY irf. 
 
 or tor the same number of livres, it was in 1G83; 
 though silver was then at 30 livres the mark, and 
 is now at 50. " Not to mention the great addition of 
 gold and silver which may have come into that king- 
 dom since that period. 
 
 From the whole of this reasoning we may conclude, 
 tliat it is of no manner of consequence with regard to 
 the domestic happiness of a state, whether money be 
 in a greater or less quantity. The good policy of the 
 magistrate consists only in keeping it, if possible, still 
 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 decreases, is actually at that 
 time weaker and more miserable than another nation 
 ■which possesses no more money, but is on the increas- 
 
 ^ These facts I give upon the authority of M. du Tot, in his Reflec- 
 tions Puliiiqncs, an author of reputation ; tliough I must confess, that 
 the facts which lie advances on other occasions, are often so suspicious, 
 as to make his authority less in this matter. However, the general ob- 
 servation, that the augmenting of the money in France does not at first 
 proportionably augment the prices, is certainly just. 
 
 By the by, this seems to be one of the best reasons which can be 
 given, for a gradual and universal increase of the denomination of moneys 
 though it has been entirely overlooked in all lliose volumes which have 
 been written on that fjuestion by Melon du Tot, and Paris de Vcrney. 
 "Were all our money, for instance, recoincd, and a i)enny's worih 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 seme increase and encouragement. In ex- 
 ecuting such a project, it would be better to make the new shilling pass 
 for 24. halfpence in or<ler to preserve the illusion, and to make it be taken 
 for the same. And as a recoinage of our silver begins to be requisite, 
 by the continual wearing of our shillings and sixpences, it may bedoubt- 
 ftjl, wlifcther we oiight to imitate the example in King William's reign> 
 M-hcn the dipt money was raised to the old standard.
 
 or MONEY. 8i25 
 
 ing hand. This will be easily accounted for, if we 
 consider that the alterations in the quantity of mone}^, 
 either on one side or the other, are not immediately 
 attended with proportionable alterations in the price of 
 commodities. There is always an inten^al before mat- 
 ters be adjusted to their new situation ; and this inter- 
 val is as pernicious to industry, when gold and silver 
 are diminishing, as it is advantageous when these me- 
 tals are increasinfj. The workmen 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 the same rent to his land- 
 lord. The jwverty and beggary, and sloth, which 
 must ensue, are easilv foreseen. 
 
 II. The second observation which I jn-oposed to 
 make with regard to money, may be explained after 
 the following manner : There are some kingdoms, and 
 many provinces in Europe, (and all of them were once 
 in the same condition), where money is so scarce, that 
 the landlord can get none at all from his tenants, but 
 is obliffed to take his rent in kind, and either to con- 
 sume it himself, or transport it to places where he may 
 find a market. In those countries, the prince can levy 
 few or no taxes but in the same manner; and as he will 
 receive small benefit from impositions so paid, it is e- 
 vident that such a kingdom has little force even at home, 
 and cannot maintain fleets and armies to the same ex- 
 tent as if every part of it abounded in gold and silver. 
 There is surely a greater disproportion between the^ 
 force of Germany at present, and what it was three 
 centuries ago, "' than there is in its industry, people, 
 
 "" Tli<-' Italians gave to the emperor Maximilian the nickname of 
 PocHi Danari. None of the enterprises of that prince ever succeeded, 
 for want of money.
 
 326 ESSAY in. 
 
 and manufactures. The Austrian dominions in the 
 empire are in general well peopled and well cultivated, 
 and are of great extent, but have not a proportionable 
 weight in the balance of Europe; proceeding as is 
 commonly supposed, from the scarcity of money. How 
 do all these facts agree with that principle of reason, 
 that the quantity of gold and silver is in itself altoge- 
 ther indifferent ? According to that principle, wher- 
 ever a sovereign has numbers of subjects, and these 
 have plenty of commodities, he should of course be 
 great and powerful, and they rich and happy, inde- 
 pendent of the greater or lesser abundance of the pre- 
 cious metals. These admit of divisions and subdivi- 
 sions 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 con- 
 venient. They still serve the same purposes of ex- 
 change, whatever their number may be, or whatever 
 colour they may be supposed to have. 
 
 To these difficulties I answer, that the effect here 
 supposed 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 contradiction is only apparent ; but it re- 
 quires some thought and reflection to discover the 
 principles by which we can reconcile reason to experi- 
 ence. 
 
 It seems a maxim almost self-evident, that the jirices 
 of every thing depend on the proportioji between com- 
 modities and money, and that any considerable altera- 
 tion on either lias the same eflect, either of heightening 
 or lowering the price. Increase the commodities, they
 
 OF MONEY. 32t 
 
 "become cheaper ; increase the money, they rise in their 
 value. As, on the other hand, a diminution of the 
 fermer, and that of the latter, have contrary tenden- 
 cies. 
 
 It is also evident that the prices do not so much de- 
 pend on the absolute quantity of commodities and that 
 of money which are in a nation, as on that of the com- 
 modities ^hich <;ome or may come into market, and of 
 the money which circulates. If the coin be locked up 
 i« 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 tliese cases never meet, 
 they -cannot aifect each other. Were we at any time 
 to form conjectures concerning the price of provisions, 
 the corn which the farmer must reserve for seed, and 
 for the maintenance of himself and family, ought never 
 to enter into tlie estimation. It is only the overplus, 
 compared to tlie demand, that determines the value. 
 
 To apply th^se principles, we must consider, that, 
 ill the first and more uncwltivatetl ages of any state, 
 ere fancy has confounded her wants with those of na- 
 ture, men, content with the produce of their o\vn fields, 
 or with those rude improvements wliich they themselves 
 can work upon them, have little occasion for exchange, 
 at least for money, which, by agreement, is the com- 
 mon measure of exchange. The wool of the farmer's 
 own flock, spun in his own family, and wrought by a 
 neiirlibourinir weaver, who receives his payment in corn 
 or wool, suffices for furniture and clothing. The car- 
 penter, the smith, the mas+)n, the tailor, are retained 
 by wages of a like nature ; and the landlord himself, 
 dvvellino- in the neighbourhood, is content to receive 
 his rent m the commodities raised by the farmer. The
 
 328 ESSAY III. 
 
 greater part of these he consumes at home, in rustic 
 hospitality : The rest, perhaps, he disposes of for mo- 
 ney to the neiolibouring town, wlience he draws the 
 few materials of his expense and luxury. 
 
 But after men begin to refine on all these enjoy- 
 ments, and live not always at liome, nor are content 
 with what can be raised in their neighbourhood, there 
 is more exchange and commerce of all kinds, and more 
 money enters into that exchange. The tradesmen will 
 not be j^aid in corn, because they want something more 
 than barely to eat. The farmer goes beyond his own 
 parish for the commodities he purchases, and cannot 
 always carry his commodities to the merchant who 
 supplies him. The landlord lives in the capital, or in 
 a foreign country, and demands his rent in gold and 
 silver, which can easily be transported to him. Great 
 undertakers, and manufiicturers, and merchants, arise 
 in every conmiodity ; and these can conveniently deal 
 in nothing but in specie. And consequently, in this 
 situation of society, the coin entei's into many more 
 contracts, and by that means is much more employed 
 than in the former. 
 
 The necessary effect is, that, provided tlic 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 circulating money, and the commodities 
 in the market, which determines t])e prices. Goods 
 that are consumed at home, or exchanged with other 
 goods in the neighljourhood, never come to market • 
 they affect not in tiie least the current specie ; with re- 
 gard to it, they are as if totally annihilated ; and con- 
 sequently this method of using them sinks the propor- 
 tion on the side of the commodities, and increases the
 
 OF MONEY. S29 
 
 prices. But after money enters into all contracts and 
 sales, and is every where the measure of exchange, the 
 same national cash has a much greater task to perform; 
 all commodities are then in the market ; the sphere of 
 circulation is enlarged ; it is the same case as if that 
 individual sum were to serve a larger kingdom ; and 
 therefore, the proportion being here lessened on the 
 side of the money, every thing must become cheaper, 
 and the prices gradually fall. 
 
 By the most exact computations that have been 
 formed all over Europe, after making allowance for 
 the alteration in the numerary value or the denomina- 
 tion, it is found, that the prices of all things have only 
 risen three, or, at most, four times since the discovery 
 of the West Indies. But will any one assert, that 
 there is not much more than four times the coin in 
 Europe that was in the fifteenth century, and the cen- 
 turies preceding it? The Spaniards and Portuguese 
 from their mines, the English, French, and Dutch, by 
 their African trade, and by their interlopers in the 
 West Indies, bring home about six millions a year, of 
 which not above a tliird goes to the East Indies. 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 
 risen to a much more exorbitant heigiit, excej)t that 
 which is derived from a change of customs and man- 
 ners. Besides that more commodities are produced 
 by additional industry, the same commodities come 
 more to market, after men depart from their ancient 
 simplicity of manners. And though this increase has 
 not been equal to that of money, it has, Iiowever, been 
 considerable, and has preserved the proportion between 
 coin and commodities nearer the ancient standard.
 
 330 ESSAY III. 
 
 "Were the question proposed, Which of these me- 
 thods of liviiio; in the people, the simple or refined, is 
 the most advantageous to the state or pubhc ? I 
 should, without much scruple, prefer the latter, in a 
 view to ]>olitics at least, and should produce this as an 
 additional reason for the encouragement of trade and 
 manufactures. 
 
 \\'hile men live in the ancient simple manner, and 
 supply all their necessaries from domestic industry, or 
 IVom the neighbourhood, the sovereign can levy no 
 taxes in money from a considerable part of his sub- 
 jects ; 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 in- 
 sisted on. All the money he can pretend to raise must 
 be fi'om 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 
 throuirhout the whole. But besides this obvious dimi- 
 nution of the revenue, there is another cause of the po- 
 verty of the public in such a situation. Not only the 
 sovereign receives less money, but the same money 
 goes not so far as in times of industry and general 
 commerce. Every thing is dearer where the gold and 
 silver are supposed equal ; and that because fewer 
 conmiodities come to market, and the whole coin bears 
 a higher proportion to wliat is to be purchased by it; 
 whence alone the prices of every thing are fixed and 
 determined. 
 
 I lere tlien we may learn the fallacy of the remark, 
 often to be met with in historians, and even in com- 
 mon conversation, that any particular state is weak, 
 though fertile, jiopulous, and well cultivated, merely
 
 OF MONEY. 331 
 
 because it wants money. It a})pears, tliat the want of 
 money can never injure any state within itself; ior 
 men and commodities are the real strength of any 
 community. It is the simple maimer of living which 
 here hurts the public, by confining the gold and silver 
 to few hands, and preventing its universal division and 
 circulation. On the contrary, industry and refinements 
 of all kinds incorporate it with the whole state, how- 
 ever small its quantity may be : They digest it into 
 every vein, so to speak, and make it enter into every 
 transaction and contract. No hand is entirely empty 
 of it. And as the prices of every thing fall by that 
 means, the sovereign has a double advantage : He 
 may draw money by his taxes from every part of the 
 state ; and what he receives goes farther in every pur- 
 chase and payment. 
 
 We may infer, from a comparison of prices, that 
 money is not more plentiful in China than it was in 
 Europe three centuries ago. But what immense power 
 is that empire possessed of, if we may judge by the ci- 
 vil and military establishment maintained by it ! Po- 
 lybius " tells us, that provisions were so cheap in Italy 
 during his time, that in some places the stated price 
 for a meal at the inns was a semis a head, little more 
 than a farthing ! Yet the Roman power had even then 
 subdued the whole known world. About a century 
 before that period, the Carthaginian ambassador said, 
 by way of raillery, that no people lived more sociably 
 amongst themselves than the Romans; for tliat, in 
 every entertainment, which, as foreign ministers, they 
 received, they still observed the same plate at every 
 table. " The absolute quantity of the precious metals 
 
 " Lib. ii. cap. 15. ° Plin. lib. xxxiii. cap. IL
 
 332 ESSAY III. 
 
 is a matter of great indifference. There are only two 
 circumstances of any importance, namely, their gradual 
 increase, and their thorouu;h concoction and circulation 
 through the state ; and the influence of both these cir- 
 cumstances has here been explained. 
 
 In the following Essay we shall see an instance of a 
 like fallacy as that above mentioned ; where a collate- 
 ral 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.
 
 OF INTEREST. 333 
 
 ESSAY IV. 
 
 OF INTEREST. 
 
 Nothing Is esteemed a more certain sign of the 
 flourishing condition of any nation than the lowness of 
 interest : And with reason, though I beheve the cause 
 is somewhat different from what is commonly appre- 
 hended. Lowness of interest is generally ascribed to 
 plenty of money. But money, however plentiful, has 
 no other effect, if Jixed, than to raise the price of la- 
 bour. Silver is more common than gold, and there- 
 fore you receive a greater quantity of it for the same 
 commodities. But do you pay less interest for it ? In- 
 terest in Batavia and Jamaica is at 10 pe7' cent., in Por- 
 tugal at 6, though these places, as w^e may learn fron\ 
 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 sil- 
 ver instead of o-old. Were gold rendered as common 
 as silver, and silver as common as copper, would mo- 
 ney be more plentiful, or interest lower? We may
 
 334- ESSAY IV. 
 
 assuredly give the same answer. Our shillings would 
 then be yellow, and our halfpence white; and we 
 should have no guineas. No other difference w^ould 
 ever be observed ; no alteration on commerce, manu- 
 factures, navigation, or interest; unless we imagine 
 that the colour of the metal is of any consequence. 
 
 Now, what is so visible in these ijreater variations of 
 scarcity or abundance in the precious metals must hold 
 in all inferior changes. If the multijilying of gold and 
 silver fifteen times makes no difference, much less can 
 the doubling or tripling them. All augmentation has 
 no other effect than to heighten the price of labour and 
 commodities ; and even this variation is little more 
 than that of a name. In the progress towards these 
 clianges, the augmentation may have some inffuence, 
 by exciting industry ; but after the prices are settled, 
 suitably to the new abundance of gold and silver, it 
 has no manner of influence. 
 
 An effect always holds proportion with its cause. 
 Prices have risen near four times .since the discovery 
 of tlie 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; and the (juantity of specie, when 
 once fixed, though ever so large, lias no other effect 
 than to oblige every one to tell out a greater number 
 of those shining bits of metal for clothes, furniture, or 
 cfjuipage, without increasing 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, &c. with the labour of the masons
 
 or INTEREST. 
 
 335 
 
 and cai-penters, are represented by a greater quantity 
 of o-old and silver. But as these metals are considered 
 chiefly as representations, there can no alteration arise 
 from their bulk or quantity, their weight or colour, ei- 
 ther upon their real value or their interest. The same 
 interest, in all cases, bears the same proportion to the 
 sum. And if you lent me so much labour and so many 
 commodities, by receiving five 'per cent, you always re- 
 ceive proportional labour and commodities, however 
 repi-esented, 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 fix- 
 ed in any nation. 
 
 Hiffh interest arises from three circumstances : A 
 great demand for borrowing, little riches to supply 
 that demand, 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 borrowhig ; 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 com- 
 merce, 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 borrow- 
 ing. 
 
 Mlien a people have emerged ever so little from a 
 savasre state, and their numbers have increased beyond 
 the original multitude, there must immediately arise an 
 inequality of property ; and while some possess large 
 tracts of land, others are confined within narrow limits.
 
 336 tSSAV IV. 
 
 and some are entirely without landed property. Those 
 wlio possess more land than they can labour, employ 
 those who possess none, and agree to receive a deter- 
 minate part of the product. Thus the landed interest 
 is immediately established ; nor is there any settled go- 
 vernment, however rude, in which affairs are not on 
 this footing. Of these proprietors of land, some must 
 presently discover themselves to be of dillerent 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 plea- 
 sures, such as they are, will be the pursuit of the great- 
 er 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 interest, as there is little frugality, the borrow- 
 ers must be very numerous, and the rate of interest 
 must hold proportion to it. 'i'lie dilference depends 
 not on the (juantity of money, but on the habits and 
 manners which prevail. By this alone the demand for 
 borrowing is increased or diminished. Were money 
 so plentiful as to make an egg be sold for sixpence ; so 
 long as there are only landed gentry and peasants in 
 the state, the borrowers must be numerous, and interest 
 high. The rent for the same farm Vv'ould be heavier 
 and more bulky: But the same idleness of the land- 
 lord, with the high price of commodities, would dis- 
 sij)ate it in the same time, and produce the same ne- 
 cessity and demand for borrowing. * ' 
 
 4 1 I have been informed by a very eminent lawyer, and a man of 
 great knowledge and observation, that it appears, from ancient papers
 
 OP INTEUEST. 337 
 
 Nor is the case different with regard to the second 
 circuinstaiicc which we proposed to consider, namely, 
 the great or little riches to supply the demand. This 
 effect also depends on the habits and way of living of 
 the people, not on the quantity of gold and silver. In 
 order to have, in any state, a great number of lenders, 
 it is not sufficient nor requisite that there be great a- 
 bundance of the precious metals. It is only requisite 
 that the property or command of that quantity, which 
 is in the state, whether great or small, should be col- 
 lected in particular hands, so as to form considerable 
 sums, or compose a great moneyed interest. This be- 
 gets 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 particular manners and cus- 
 toms, which make the specie gather into separate sums 
 or masses of considerable value. 
 
 For, suppose that, by miracle, every man in Great 
 Britain should have five pounds slipt into his pocket in 
 one night ; this would much more than double the whole 
 money that is at present in the kingdom; yet there 
 would not next day, nor for some time, be any more 
 lenders, nor any variation in the interest. And were 
 there notliing but landlords and peasants in the state, 
 this money, however abundant, could never gather into 
 sums, and would only serve to increase the prices of 
 
 and records, that about four centuries ago, money in Scotland, and pro- 
 bably in other parts of Europe, was only at five per cent., and afterwards 
 rose to ten, before the discovery of the irest Indies. The fact is curious ; 
 but miglit easily be reconciled to the foregoing reasoning. IVIen in that 
 age lived so much at home, and in so very simple and frugal a manner, 
 that they had no occasion for money ; and though the lenders were then 
 few, the borrowers were still fewer. The high rate of interest among 
 the early Romans is accounted for by historians from the frequent losses 
 sustained by the inroads of the enemy. — Editions F, G, H. 
 
 VOL. III. Y
 
 338 ESSAY IV. 
 
 everj' thiiifv, without any farther consequence. The pro- 
 digal laiullord dissipates it as fast as he receives it; and 
 the beggarly peasant has no means, nor view, nor am- 
 bition of obtaininn; above a bare livelihood. The over- 
 plus of borrowers above that of lenders continuing still 
 the same, there will follow no reduction of interest. 
 That depends upon another pi'inciple ; and must pro- 
 ceed from an increase ol' industry and frugality of arts 
 and commerce. 
 
 Every thing useful to the Hie of man arises from the 
 ground ; but few things arise in tliat condition which is 
 requisite to render them useful. There must, therefore, 
 beside the peasants and the proprietors of land, be an- 
 other 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 peasants, and between one species of artisans 
 and another, are commonly entered into immediately 
 by the persons themselves, who, being neighbours, are 
 easily acquainted with each other's necessities, and can 
 lend their mutual assistance to supply them. But when 
 men's industry increases, 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 
 tliis intercourse of good oflices may be carried on to the 
 greatest extent and intricacy. Hence the origin of mer- 
 chaiits, 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 necessi- 
 ties. Here are in a city fifty workmen in silk and lin- 
 en, and a thousand customers ; and these two ranks of 
 men, so necessary to each other, can never rightly meet 
 till one man erects a ^;hop, to which all the workmen and
 
 OF INTEREST. 339 
 
 all the customers repair. In this province, grass rises 
 in abundance : The inhabitants abound in cheese, and 
 butter, and cattle ; but want bread and corn, which, in 
 a neighbouring province, are in too great abundance 
 for the use of the inhabitants. One man discovers tliis. 
 He brings corn from the one province, and returns with 
 cattle ,• and, supplying the wants of both, he is, so far, 
 a common benefactor. As the people increase in num- 
 bers and industry, the difficulty of their intercourse in- 
 creases : The business of the agency or merchandise 
 becomes more intricate ; and divides, subdivides, com- 
 pounds and mixes to a greater variety. In all these 
 transactions, it is necessary and reasonable, that a con- 
 siderable part of the commodities and labour should be- 
 long 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 mo- 
 ney, which is their common representation. If gold 
 and silver have increased in the state, together with the 
 industry, it will require 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 business 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 im- 
 moderate expenses. Give him a more harmless way of 
 employing his mind or body, he is satisfied, and feels 
 
 Y 2
 
 340 ESSAY IV. 
 
 no longer that insatiable thirst after pleasure. But if 
 the employment you give him be lucrative, especially if 
 the profit be attached to every particular exertion of in- 
 dustry, he has gain so often in his eye, that he acquires, 
 by degrees, a passion for it, and knows no such plea- 
 sure 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 amoaig 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 
 frugality, by giving occupation to men, and employing 
 them in the arts of gain, which soon enijafije their affec- 
 tion, and remove all relish for pleasure and expense. 
 It is an infallible consequence of all industrious profes- 
 sions to beget frugality, and make the love of gain pre- 
 vail over the love of pleasure. Among lawyers and 
 physicians who have any practice, there are many more 
 who live within their income, than who exceed it, or 
 even live up to it. But lawyers and physicians beget 
 no industry; and it is even at the expense of others 
 they acquire their riches ; so that they are sure to di- 
 minish the possessions of some of their fellow-citizens, 
 as fast as they increase their own. Merchants, on the 
 contrary, beget industry, by serving as canals to con- 
 vey it through every corner of the state : And, at the 
 .same time, by their frugaiit}', they acquire great power 
 over that industrv, 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 
 monied interest considerable; or, in other words, can
 
 t>r INTER E.ST. 341 
 
 increase industry, and, by also increasing frugality, 
 give a great command of that industry to particular 
 members of the society. Without commerce, the state 
 must consist chiefly of landed gentry, whose prodigali- 
 ty and expense make a continual demand for borrow- 
 ing; and of peasants, who have no sums to supply that 
 demand. The money never gathers into large stocks 
 or sums, which can be lent at interest. It is dispersed 
 into numberless hands, who either squander it in idle 
 show and magnificence, or employ it in the purchase of 
 the common necessaries of life. Commerce alone as- 
 sembles it into considerable sums ; and this effect it has 
 merely from the industry which it begets, and the fru- 
 gality which it inspires, independent of that particular 
 quantity of precious metal which may circulate in the 
 state. 
 
 Thus an increase of commerce, by a necessary con- 
 sequence, raises a great number of lenders, and by 
 that means produces lovvness of interest. We must 
 now consider how far this increase of commerce dimi- 
 nishes the profits arising from that profession, and 
 gives rise to the third circumstance requisite to pro- 
 duce lowness of interest. 
 
 It may be proper to observe on this head, that low 
 interest and low profits of merchandise, are two e- 
 vents that mutually forward each other, and are both 
 originally derived from that extensive commerce, which 
 produces opulent merchants, and renders the monied 
 interest considerable. Where merchants possess great 
 stocks, whether represented by few or many pieces of 
 metal, it must frequently happen, that, when they ei- 
 ther become tired of business, or leave heii's unwillino- 
 or unfit to engage in commerce, a great proportion of 
 these riches naturally seeks an annual and secure re-
 
 342 
 
 ESSAY IV. 
 
 venue. The plenty diminishes the price, and makes 
 the lenders accept of a low interest. This considera- 
 tion obliges many to keep their stock employed in 
 trade, and rather be content with low profits than 
 dispose of their money at an inidervalue. On the 
 other hand, when commerce has become extensive, 
 and emj:)loys larg-e stocks, there must arise rivalships 
 among the merchants, which diminish the profits of 
 trade, at the same time that they increase the trade it- 
 self. The low profits of merchandise induce the mer- 
 chants to accept more willingly of a low interest when 
 they leave off business, , and begin to indulge them- 
 selves in ease and indolence. It is needless, there- 
 fore, to inquire, which of these circumstances, to wit, 
 loTv inta-est or /(/to profits, is the cause, and which the 
 effect ? They both arise from an extensive commerce, 
 and mutually forward each other. No man will ac- 
 cept of low profits where he can have high interest ; 
 and no man will accept of low interest where he can 
 have high profits. An extensive commerce, by pro- 
 ducing large stocks, diminishes both interest and pro- 
 fits, and is always assisted, in its diminution of the one, 
 by the proportional sinking of the other. I may add, 
 that, as low profits arise from the increase of com- 
 merce and industry, they serve in their turn to its far- 
 ther increase, by rendering the commodities cheaper, 
 encouraging the consumption, and heightening the in- 
 dustry. And thus, if we consider the whole connec- 
 tion of causes and effects, interest is the barometer of 
 the state, and its lowness is a sign, almost infallible, of 
 the flourishing condition of a people. It proves the in- 
 crease of industry, and its promjH circulation, tlirough 
 the whole state, little inferior to a demonstration. And 
 though, pcrhaj)s, it may not be impossible but a sud-
 
 OF INTEREST. 343 
 
 lien and a great check to commerce may have a mo- 
 mentary effect of the same kind, by throwing so many 
 stocks out of trade, it must be attended with such mi- 
 sery and want of employment in the poor, that, be- 
 sides its short duration, it will not be possible to mis- 
 take the one case for the other. 
 
 Those who have asserted, that the plenty of money 
 was the cause of low interest, seem to have taken a 
 collateral effect for a cause, since the same industry, 
 which sinks the interest, commonly acquires great a- 
 bundance 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 multi})lying 
 the conveniences of life, and increasing industry, col- 
 lects 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 ajid low interest, naturally arise from 
 commerce and industry, they are altogether indepen- 
 dent of each other. For supi)ose 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 increasing in its numbers and industry : It 
 is evident that the price of every commodity must gra- 
 dually diminish in that kingdom ; since it is the pro- 
 portion between money and any species of goods which 
 fixes their mutual value ; and, upon the present sup- 
 position, 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 ii\ igno-
 
 Sii ESSAY IV. 
 
 rant and slotlifiil ages. Less money will build a lioiise, 
 portion a daughter, buy an estate, sujiport a manufac- 
 tory, 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 lias no in- 
 fluence on the interest. Ihit it is evident that the 
 greater or less stock of labour and commodities must 
 have a great influence; since we really and in efi^ect 
 borrow these, when we take money upon interest. It 
 is true, when commerce is extended all over the globe, 
 the most industrious nations always abound most with 
 the precious metals ; so that low interest and plenty of 
 money are in fact almost inseparable. But still it is of 
 consequence to know the principle whence any phe- 
 nomenon arises, and to distinguish between a cause 
 and a concomitant effect. Besides that the specula- 
 tion is curious, it may frequently be of use in the con- 
 duct 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 all others are the most important, though they are 
 conmionly 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 mo- 
 ney, or of the precious metals by means of foreign 
 conquest, the interest lias fallen not only among them, 
 but in all the neighbouring states, as soon as that mo- 
 ney was dispersed, and had insinuated itself into every 
 corner. Thus, interest in Spain fell near a half im- 
 mediately 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
 
 OF INTEREST. 345 
 
 Europe. Interest in Rome, after the conquest of E- 
 gypt, fell from 6 to 4 per ccnf.y as we learn from 
 Dion. - 
 
 The causes of the sinking of interest, upon such an 
 event, seem different in the conquering country and in 
 the nei":hbourin<T states ; but in neither of them can 
 we justly ascribe that effect merely to tlie 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 revenue, 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 commerce. The increase of lenders a- 
 bove the borrowers sinks the interest, and so much 
 the faster if those who have acquired those large sums 
 find no industry or commerce in the state, and no me- 
 thod of employing their money but by lending it at in- 
 terest. But after this new mass of gold and silver lias 
 been digested, and has circulated throufjh the whole 
 state, affairs will soon return to their former situation, 
 while the landlords and new money-holders, living 
 idly, squander above their income ; and the former 
 daily contract debt, and the latter encroach on their 
 stock till its final extinction. The whole money may 
 still be in the state, and make itself felt bv the increase 
 of prices ; but not being now collected into any large 
 masses or stocks, the disproportion between the bor- 
 rowers and lenders is the same as formerly, and con- 
 sequently the high interest returns, 
 
 Accordin<>lv we find in Rome, that, so early as Ti- 
 
 P Lib. ii.
 
 346 ESSAY IV. 
 
 berius's time, interest had again amounted to 6 jicr 
 ceiit. '' though no accident had happened to drain the 
 empire of money. In Trajan's time, money lent on 
 mortgages in Italy bore 6 2)er cent, ^ on common secu- 
 rities in Bithynia 12;' and if interest in Spain has not 
 risen to its old pitch, this can be ascribed to nothing 
 but the continuance of the same cause that sunk it, to 
 wit, the large fortunes continually made in the Indies, 
 which come over to Spain from time to time, and sup- 
 ply the demand of the borrowers. By this accidental 
 and extraneous cause, more money is to be lent in 
 Spain, that is, more money is collected into large sums, 
 than would otherwise be found in a state, where there 
 are so little commerce and industry. 
 
 As to the reduction of interest which has followed in 
 England, France, and other kingdoms of Europe that 
 have no mines, it has been gradual, and has not pro- 
 ceeded from the increase of money, considered merely 
 in itself, but from that of industry, which is the natu- 
 ral effect of the former increase in that interval, before 
 it raises the price of labour and provisions ; for to re- 
 turn to the foregoing supposition, if the industry of 
 En'dand had risen as much from other causes, (and 
 that rise might easily have happened, though the 
 stock of money had remained the same), must not 
 all the same consequences have followed, which we ob- 
 serve at present? The same people would in that case 
 be found in the kingdom, the same commodities, the 
 same industry, manufactures, and commerce; and con- 
 sequently the same merchants, with the same stocks, 
 that is, with the same command over labour and com- 
 
 ■' Columella, lib. iii. cap. 3* 
 ' Pliriii Ej)ist. lib. vii. ep. 18. 
 • Id. lib. X. cp. 02.
 
 OF INTEREST. 347 
 
 modities, 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 pre- 
 sent, it is evident that interest must also have been as 
 low, since that is the necessary result of all these cir- 
 cumstances, so far as they determine the profits of com- 
 merce, and the proportion between the borrowers and 
 lenders in any state.
 
 348 ESSAY V. 
 
 ESSAY V 
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 It is very usual, in nations ignorant of the nature of 
 commerce, to prohibit the exportation of commodities, 
 and to preserve among themselves whatever they think 
 valuable and useful. They do not consider, that in 
 this prohibition they act directly contrary to their in- 
 tention ; and that the more is exported of any commo- 
 dity, 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 pro- 
 hibition they were so much in earnest, that inform- 
 ers were thence called siycop/ianis among them, from 
 two (xreek words, which signify Jigs and discoverer. ' 
 Tliere are proofs in many old acts of parliament of the 
 same ignorance in the nature of commerce, particular- 
 ly in llie reign of Edward III. ; and to this day, in 
 
 ' Pli't. De Curiositatc.
 
 OF THE BALANCE OK TRADK. 349 
 
 France, the exportation of corn is almost always pro- 
 hibited, in order, as they sa}^, to prevent famines ; 
 though it is evident that nothinn; contributes more to 
 the frequent famines which so much distress that fer- 
 tile country. 
 
 The same jealous fear, with regard to money, has 
 also prevailed among several nations ; and it required 
 both reason and experience to convince any people, that 
 these prohibitions serve to no other purpose than to 
 raise the exchange against them, and produce a still 
 greater exportation. 
 
 These errors, one may say, are gross and palpable ; 
 but there still prevails, even in nations well acquainted 
 with commerce, a strong jealousy with regard to the 
 balance of trade, and a fear that all their gold and sil- 
 ver may be leaving 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 king- 
 dom where there are people and industry. Let us 
 carefully preserve these latter advantages, and, we need 
 never be apprehensive of losing the former. 
 ' It is easy to observe, that all calculations concerning 
 the balance of trade are founded on very uncertain 
 facts and suppositions. The customhouse books are 
 allowed to be an insufficient ground of reasoning ; nor 
 is the rate of exchange much better, unless we con- 
 sider it with all nations, and know also the proportions 
 of the several sums remitted, which one may safely 
 pronounce impossible. Every man, who has ever rea- 
 soned on this subject, has always proved his theory, 
 whatever it was, by facts and calculations, and by an 
 enumeration of all the commodities sent to all foreign 
 kingdoms.
 
 350 ESSAY V. 
 
 The writiniTs of Mr Gee struck the nation with ah 
 universal panic, when they saw it phiinly demonstrated, 
 by a detail of particulars, that the balance was against 
 them for so considerable a sum, as must leave them 
 without a single shilling in five or six years. But 
 luckily, twenty years have since elapsed, with an ex- 
 pensive foreign war ; yet it is commonly supposed that 
 money is still more plentiful among us than in any for- 
 mer period. 
 
 Notliinfr can be more entertaininc; on this head than 
 Dr Swift ; an author so quick in discerning the mis- 
 takes and absurdities of others. He says, in his 
 Short View of the State (rf Irelajid, that the whole cash 
 of that kingdom formerly amounted but to 500,000/. ; 
 that out of this the Irish remitted every year a neat 
 million to England, and had scarcely any other source 
 from which they could compensate themselves, and lit- 
 tle other foreign trade than the importation of French 
 wines, for which they paid ready money. The conse- 
 quence of this situation, which must be owned to be 
 disadvantngeous, was, that, in a course of three years, 
 the current money of Ireland, from 500,000/. was re- 
 duced 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 Ireland, which gave the Doctor so much in- 
 dignation, 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 par- 
 ticul.'ir detail of all llic exports which counterbalance 
 the imports, it may here be j)roper to form a general
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 351 
 
 argument, tliat may prove the impossibility of this 
 event, so long as we preserve our people and our in- 
 dustry. 
 
 Suppose four-fifths of all the money in Great Bri- 
 tain to be annihilated in one night, and the nation re- 
 duced to the same condition, with regard to specie, as 
 m the reigns of the Harrys and Edwards, what would 
 be the consequence ? Must not the price of all labour 
 and commodities sink in proportion, and every thing 
 be sold as cheap as they were in those ages ? What 
 nation could then dispute with us in any foreign mar- 
 ket, or pretend to navigate or to sell manufactures at 
 the same price, which to us would afford sufficient pro- 
 fit? In how little time, therefore, must this bring 
 back the money which we had lost, and raise us to the 
 level of all the neighbouring nations ? where, after we 
 have arrived, we immediately lose the advantage of the 
 cheapness of labour and commodities, and the farther 
 flowing in of money is stopped by our fulness and re- 
 pletion. 
 
 Again, suppose that all the money of Great Britain 
 were multiplied fivefold in a night, must not the con- 
 trary effect follow ? Must not all labour and commo- 
 dities rise to such an exorbitant height, that no neigh- 
 bouring nations could afford to buy from us ; while 
 their commodities, on the other hand, became compa- 
 ratively 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 foreign- 
 ers, 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 hap- 
 pen miraculously, must prevent their ha}^pening in the
 
 3.>^> liSSAY V. 
 
 coninion course of nature, and must for ever, in all 
 neigl)l)ourin<y nations, preserve money nearly propor- 
 tionable to the art anil industry of each nation. All 
 water, wherever it conununicates, remains always at a 
 level. Ask natui'alists the reason ; they tell you, that, 
 were it to be raised in any one place, the superior gra- 
 vity of that part not being balanced, must depress it, 
 till it meets a counterpoise ; and tliat the same cause, 
 which redresses the inequality when it happens, must 
 for ever prevent it, without some violent external opera- 
 tion. " 
 
 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 
 finding their way thither, and draining from that im- 
 mense treasure ? What other reason, indeed, is there, 
 why all nations at present gain in their trade with 
 Sjiain and Portugal, but because it is impossible to 
 lieap uj) money, more than any fluid, beyond its pro- 
 per level? The sovereigns of these countries have 
 shown, that they wanted not inclination to keep their 
 gold and silver to themselves, had it been in any de- 
 gree practicable. 
 
 But as anv body of water may be raised above the 
 level of the surrounding element, if the former has no 
 
 " Tlitre is another cause, though more limited in its operation, which 
 checks tlic wrong balance of trade, to every particular nation to which 
 the kingdom trades, ^\■)lt•^ we import more goods than we export, the 
 exchange turns against us, and tliis becomes a new encouragement to ex- 
 port ; as much as the cliarge of carriage and insurance of the money 
 wJiich becomes due would amoinit to. For llie exchange can never rise 
 lint a little higher than lliat sum.
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 353 
 
 communication with the latter; so in money, if the 
 communication be cut off, by any material or physical 
 impediment (for all laws alone are ineffectual), there 
 may, in such a case, be a very great inequality of 
 money. Thus the immense distance of China, toge- 
 ther with the monopolies of our India companies ob- 
 structing the communication, preserve in Europe the 
 gold and silver, especially the latter, in much greater 
 plenty than they are found in that kingdom. But, 
 notwithstanding this great obstruction, the force of the 
 causes above mentioned is still evident. The skill and 
 ingenuity of Europe in general surpasses perhaps that 
 of China, with regard to manual arts and manufac- 
 tures, yet are we never able to trade thither without 
 great disadvantage. And were it not for the con- 
 tinual recruits which we receive from America, money 
 would soon sink in Europe, and rise in China, till it 
 came nearly to a level in both places. Nor can any 
 reasonable man doubt, but tliat 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 treasures. 
 We need not have recourse to a physical attraction, in 
 order to explain the necessity of this operation. There 
 is a moral attraction, arising from the interests and 
 passions of men, which is full as potent and infallible. 
 
 How is the balance kept in the provinces of every 
 kingdom among themselves, but by the force of this 
 principle, which makes it impossible for money to lose 
 its level, and either to rise or sink beyond the propor- 
 tion 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 Yorkshiremauj 
 
 VOL. III. z
 
 354 ESSAY V. 
 
 ■while lie conipntcd and magnified the sums drawn to 
 London by taxes, absentees, commodities, and found 
 on comparison the opposite articles so much inferior ! 
 And no doubt, had the Ilcptarchij subsisted in Eng- 
 land, 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 
 Iiave been extremely violent on account of their close 
 neighbourhood, they would have loaded and oppressed 
 all connnerce, by a jealous and superfluous caution. 
 Since the Union has removed the barriers between 
 Scotland and Enirland, which of these nations jjains 
 from the other by this free commerce ? Or if the for- 
 mer kingdom has received any increase of riches, can 
 it reasonably be accounted for by any thing but the 
 increase of its art and industry ? It was a common 
 apprehension in England, before the Union, as we 
 learn from L'Abbc du Bos, " that Scotland would soon 
 drain them of their treasures, were an open trade al- 
 lowed ; and on the other side of the Tweed a contrary 
 apprehension prevailed : with what justice in both, 
 time has shown. 
 
 What happens in small portions of mankind must 
 take place in greater. The provinces of the Roman 
 empire, no doubt, kept their balance with each other, 
 and with Italy, independent of the legislature; as much 
 as the several counties of Great Britain, or the several 
 parishes of each county. And any man who travels 
 over Europe at this day, may see, by the prices of com- 
 modities, that money, in spite of the absurd jealousy of 
 princes and states, has brought itself nearly to a level; 
 and that the difference between one kingdom and ano- 
 
 ' Les Intcrcts d'Angleterrc mal-entendus.
 
 ON THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 355 
 
 ther is not greater in this respect, tlian it is often be- 
 tween different provinces of liic same kingdom. Men 
 naturally flock to capital cities, sea -ports, and navi- 
 gable rivers. There we find more men, more indus- 
 try, more commodities, and consequently more money 
 but still the latter difference holds proportion with the 
 former, and the level is preserved. *' 
 
 Our jealousy and our hatred of France are without 
 bounds; and the former sentiment, at least, must be ac- 
 knowledged reasonable and well-grounded. These pas- 
 sions have occasioned innumerable barriers and obstruc- 
 tions upon commerce, where we are accused of being 
 commonly the aggressors. But what have we gained 
 by the bargain ? We lost the French market for our 
 woollen manufactures, and transferred the commerce of 
 wine to Spain and Portugal, where we buy worse liquor 
 at a higher price. There are few Englishmen who 
 would not think their country absolutely ruined, were 
 French wines sold in England so cheap and in such a- 
 bundance as to supplant, in some measure, all ale and 
 home-brewed liquors: But would we lay aside preju- 
 dice, it would not be difHcult to prove, that nothing 
 
 y It must carefully be remarked, that throughout this discourse, where- 
 ever I speak of the level of money, I mean always its proportional level 
 to the commodities, labour, industry, and skill, vvliich is in the several 
 states. And I assert, that where tliese advantages are double, triple, qua- 
 druple, 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 tlie expense of trans- 
 porting the commodities from one place to another ; and this expense is 
 sometimes unequal. Thus the corn, cattle, cheese, butter of Derbyshire, 
 cannot draw the money of London, so :nucli as the manufactures of Lon- 
 don 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, 
 
 z 2
 
 356 . ESSAY V. 
 
 could be more innocent, perliaps 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 bai'lcv, in order to subsist them- 
 selves ; and it is evident that we should thereby get 
 command of the better commodity. 
 
 There are many edicts of the French king, prohibit- 
 ing the planting of new vineyards, and ordering all 
 those which are lately planted to he grubbed up ; so 
 sensible are they, in that country, of the superior value 
 of corn above every other product. 
 
 Mareschal Vauban complains often, and with reason, 
 of the absurd duties which load the entry of those wines 
 of Languedoc, Guienne, and other southern provinces, 
 that are imported into Britanny and Normandy. He 
 entertained no doubt but these latter provinces could 
 preserve their balance, notwithstanding the open com- 
 merce 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 sink, and another by which we may raise money be- 
 yond its natural level in any kingdom ; but these cases, 
 when examined, will be found to resolve into our gene- 
 ral theor}', and to bring additional authority to it. 
 
 I scarcely know any method of sinking money below 
 its level, but those institutions of banks, funds, and 
 paper credit, which are so much practised in this king- 
 dom. These render paper equivalent to money, cir- 
 culate it throughout the whole state, make it supply the 
 place of gold and silver, raise proportionably the price 
 of labour and commodities, and by that means either
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 357 
 
 banish a great part of those precious metals, or prevent 
 their farther increase. What can be more short-sii>ht- 
 ed than our reasonings on this head ? We fancy, be- 
 cause 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 increased ; 
 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 
 gi'eater stock of money is advantageous; and as our 
 paper is there absolutely insignificant, we feel, by its 
 means, all the ill effects arisinfj from a ffreat abundance 
 of mone}^, without reaping any of the advantages. '^ 
 
 Suppose that there are 12 millions of paper, which 
 circulate in the kingdom as money (for we are not to 
 imagine that all our enormous funds are employed in 
 that shape), and suppose the real cash of the kingdom 
 to be 18 millions : Here is a state which is found by 
 experience to be able to hold a stock of 30 millions. I 
 say, if it be able to hold it, it must of necessity have 
 acquired it in gold and silver, had we not obstructed the 
 entrance of these metals by this new invention of paper. 
 Whence 'vcould it have acquired that sum P From all the 
 kingdoms of the world. But vchij ? 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 
 
 * We observed in Essay III. that money, when increasing, gives en- 
 couragement to industry, during the interval between the increase of 
 money and rise of the prices. A good eifect of tliis nature raay follow 
 too from paper credit ; but it is dangerous to precipitate matters at the 
 risk of losing all by tlie failing of that credit, as must happen upon any 
 violent shock in public aflairs.
 
 358 ESSAY V. 
 
 saturate, so to speak, and can hold no more. By our 
 present politics, we are 'as careful to stuft' the nation 
 with this fme 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 bul- 
 lion in France is, in a great measure, owing to the want 
 of paper-credit. The French have no banks : Mer- 
 chants' bills do not circulate as with us : Usury, or lend- 
 ing on interest, is not directly permitted; so that many 
 have large sums in their coffers : Great quantities of 
 plate are used in private houses ; and all the churches 
 are full of it. By this means, provisions and labour 
 still remain cheaper among them, than in nations that 
 are not half so rich in gold and silver. The advan- 
 tages of this situation, in point of trade, as well as in 
 great public emergencies, are too evident to be dis- 
 puted. 
 
 The same fashion a few years ago prevailed in Ge- 
 noa, v.hich still has place in England and Holland, of 
 using services of China-ware instead of plate ; but the 
 senate, foreseeing the consequence, prohibited the use 
 of that brittle commodity beyond a certain extent; 
 while the use of silver-plate was left unlimited. And I 
 suppose, in their late distresses, they felt the good ef- 
 fect of this ordinance. Our tax on plate is, perhaps, 
 in this view, somewhat impolitic. 
 
 Before the introduction of paper-money into our co- 
 lonies, they had gold and silver sufficient for their cir- 
 culation. Since the introduction of that commodity, 
 the least inconveniency that has followed is the total 
 banishment of the precious metals. And after the a- 
 bolition of paper, can it be doubted but money will re- 
 turn, while those colonies possess manufactures and
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 359 
 
 commodities, the only thing vahiablc in commerce, and 
 for whose sake alone all men desire money ? 
 
 What pity Lycurgus did not think of paper-credit, 
 when he wanted to banish gold and silver from Sparta ! 
 It would have served his purpose better than the lumps 
 of iron he made use of as money ; and would also have 
 prevented more effectually all commerce with strangers, 
 as being of so much real and intrinsic value. 
 
 It must, however, be confessed, that, as all these 
 questions of trade and money are extremely compli- 
 cated, 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 disad- 
 vantages. That they banish specie and bullion from a 
 state, is undoubtedly true ; and whoever looks no fur- 
 ther than this circumstance, does well to condemn 
 them ; but specie and bullion are not of so great con- 
 sequence as not to admit of a compensation, and even 
 an overbalance from the increase of industry and of 
 credit, which may be promoted by the right use of pa- 
 per-money. It is well known of what advantage it is 
 to a merchant to be able to discount his bills upon oc- 
 casion ; and every thing that facilitates this species of 
 .traffic is favourable to the general commerce of a state. 
 But private bankers are enabled to give such credit by 
 the credit they receive from the depositing of money in 
 their shops ; and the Bank of England, in the same 
 maimer, from the liberty it has to issue its notes in all 
 payments. There was an invention of this kind which 
 was fallen upon some years ago by the banks of Edin- 
 burgh, and which, as it is one of the most ingenious 
 ideas that has been executed in commerce, has also 
 been thought advantageous to Scotland. It is there 
 called a Bank- Credit, and is of this nature. A man
 
 360 ESSAY V. 
 
 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 when- 
 ever he pleases, and he pays only the ordinary interest 
 for it while it is in his liands. He may, when he 
 pleases, repay any sum so small as twenty pounds, and 
 the interest is discounted from the very day of the re- 
 payment. The advantages resulting from this contri- 
 vance are manifold. As a man may find surety nearly 
 to the amount of his substance, and his bank-credit is 
 equivalent to ready money, a merchant does hereby in 
 a manner coin his houses, his household furniture, the 
 goods in his warehouse, the foreign debts due to him, 
 his ships at sea; and can, upon occasion, employ them 
 in all payments, as if they were the current money of 
 the country. If a man borrow a thousand pounds 
 from a private hand, besides that it is not always to be 
 found when required, he pays interest for it whether 
 he be using it or not: His bank-credit costs him no- 
 thing except during the very moment in which it is of 
 service to him : And this circumstance is of equal ad- 
 vantage as if he had borrowed money at much lower 
 interest. Merchants likewise, from this invention, ac- 
 quire a great facility in supporting each other's credit, 
 which is a considerable security against bankruptcies. 
 A man, when his own bank-credit is exhausted, goes 
 to any of his neighbours who is not in the same condi- 
 tion, and lie 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 associ- 
 ated themselves into different banks, and issued notes 
 so low as ten shillings, which they used in all pay-
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 301 
 
 ments for goods, manufactures, tradesmen's labour of 
 all kinds ; and these notes, from the established credit 
 of the companies, passed as money in all payments 
 throughout the country. By this means, a stock of 
 five thousand pounds was able to perform the same 
 operations as if it were six or seven ; and merchants 
 were thereby enabled to trade to a greater extent, and 
 to require less profit in all their transactions. But 
 whatever other advantages result from these inven- 
 tions, it must still be allowed, that, besides giving too 
 great facility to credit, which is dangerous, they ba- 
 nish the precious metals : and nothing can be a more 
 evident proof of it than a comparison of the past and 
 present condition of Scotland in that particular. It 
 was found, upon the recoinage made after the Union, 
 that there was near a million of specie in that country: 
 But notwithstanding the great increase of riches, com- 
 merce, and manufactures of all kinds, it is thought, 
 that, even where there is no extraordinary drain made 
 by England, the current specie will not now amount to 
 a third of that sum. 
 
 But as our projects of paper-credit are almost the 
 only expedient by which we can sink money below its 
 level, so, in my opinion, the only expedient by which 
 we can raise money above it, is a practice which we 
 should all exclaim against as destructive, namely, the 
 gathering of large sums into a public treasure, locking 
 them up, and absolutely preventing their circulation. 
 The fluid, not communicating with the neighbouring 
 element, may, by such an artifice, be raised to what 
 height we please. To prove this, we need only return 
 to our first supposition, of annihilating the half or any 
 part of our cash ; where we found, that the immediate 
 consequence of such an event would be the attraction
 
 362 ESSAY V. 
 
 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 policy for 
 ages, might engross nine tenths of the money of Eu- 
 rope. 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 be- 
 come a prey to some of its poorer, but more powerful 
 neighbours. A great state would dissipate its wealth 
 in dangerous and ill-concerted projects, and probably 
 destroy, with it, what is much more valuable, the in- 
 dustry, morals, and numbers of its people. The fluid, 
 in tins case, raised to too great a height, bursts and 
 destroys the vessel that contains it ; and, mixing itself 
 with the surrounding element, soon falls to its proper 
 level. 
 
 So little are we commonly acquainted with this prin- 
 ciple, that, though all historians agree in relating uni- 
 formly so recent an event as the immense treasure 
 amassed by Harry VII. (which they make amount to 
 1,700,000 pounds), we rather reject their concurring 
 testimony than admit of a fact which agrees so ill with 
 our inveterate prejudices. It is indeed probable that 
 this sum might be three fourths of all the money in 
 Eiifdand. But wliere is the difliculty in conceiving 
 that such a sum might be amassed in twenty years by 
 a cunning, rapacious, frugal, and ahnost absolute mo- 
 narcli ? Nor is it probable that the duninution of cir- 
 cuhiting money was ever sensibly felt by the people, 
 or ever did lliem any prejudice. The sinking of the 
 prices of all commodities would immediately replace it, 
 by giving England the advantage in its conunerce witlji 
 the neigliljouring kingdoms.
 
 OF THE BALANXE OF TRADE. 363 
 
 Have we not an instance in the small republic of 
 Athens with its allies, who, in about fifty years be- 
 tween the Median and Peloponnesian wars, amassed a 
 sum not much inferior to that of Harry VIl/ ? For 
 all the Greek historians ^ and orators '' agree, that the 
 Athenians collected in the citadel more than 10,000 
 talents, which they afterwards dissipated to their own 
 ruin, in rash and imprudent enterprises. But when 
 this money was set a running, and began to communi- 
 cate with the surrounding fluid, what was the conse- 
 quence ? Did it remain in the state ? No. For we 
 find, by the memorable census mentioned by Demos- 
 thenes ' and Polybius,'' that, in about fifty years after- 
 wards, the whole value of the republic, comprehending 
 lands, houses, commodities, slaves and money, was less 
 than 6000 talents. 
 
 What an ambitious Iiigh-spirited people was this, to 
 collect and keep in their treasury, with a view to con- 
 quests, a sum, which it was every day in the power of 
 the citizens, by a single vote, to distribute among them- 
 selves, and which would have gone near to triple the 
 riches of every individual ! For we must observe, that 
 the numbers and private riches of the Athenians are 
 said, by ancient writers, to have been no greater at the 
 beginning of the Peloponnesian war, than at the be- 
 ginning of the Macedonian. 
 
 Money was little more plentiful in Greece during 
 the age of Philip and Perseus, than in England during 
 
 "^ There were about ciglit ounces of silver in a pound sterling in 
 Harry VI I. 's time. 
 
 * Thucydides, lib. ii. and Diod. Sic. lib. xii. 
 •* Vid. iEscliinis cl Dcmostlicnis Efisl, 
 
 d Lib. ii. cap. 62.
 
 30 !• ESSAY V. 
 
 tliat of I lurry \ll. : Yet these two monarchs in thirty 
 years ^ collected from the small kingdom of Macedon, 
 a larger treasure than that of the English monarch. 
 Paulus ^iMnilius brought to Rome about 1,700,000 
 pounds Sterling. ^ Pliny says, 2,4-00,000. ^ And that 
 Avas but a part of the Macedonian treasure. The rest 
 was dissipated by the resistance and flight of Perseus. " 
 
 We may learn from Stanian, that the canton of Berne 
 had 300,000 pounds lent at interest, and had about 
 six times as much in their treasury. Here then is a 
 sum hoarded of 1,800,000 pounds Sterling, which is at 
 least quadruple what should naturally circulate in such 
 a petty state ; and yet no one, who travels in the Pais 
 de Vaux, or any part of that canton, observes any 
 want of money more than could be supposed in a 
 country of that extent, soil, and situation. On the 
 contrary, there are scarce any inland provinces in the 
 continent of France or Germany, where the inhabi- 
 tants are at this time so opulent, though that canton 
 lias vastly increased its treasure since 1714, the time 
 when Stanian wrote his judicious account of Switzer- 
 land. ' 
 
 The account given by Appian ^ 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 
 liad many of them treasures not much inferior. For 
 this saving humour of the neighbouring princes must 
 necessarily have checked the frugality of the Egyptian 
 
 " 'J'iti I.ivii, lib. xlv. cap. W. 
 
 ' Vcl I'atcrc. lib. i. caj). 9. ^ Lib. xxxiii. cap. 3. '' Titi Livii, ibid. 
 
 ' Tlic poverty which Stanian speaks of is only to be seen in the most 
 mountainous cantons, wliere there is no commodity to bring money. 
 Anrl e%'cn there the people are not poorer than in the cliocess of Salts- 
 burgli on the one hand, or Savoy on the other. ^ rroem,
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 363 
 
 monarclis, according to the foregoing theory. The 
 sum he mentions is 740,000 talents, or 191,1GG,6GG 
 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 ouirht to form of those numberless bars, obstruc- 
 tions, 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 apprehension of losing their spe- 
 cie, which never will sink below it. Could any thing 
 scatter our riches, it would be such impolitic contriv- 
 ances. But this general ill effect, however, results 
 from them, that they deprive neighbouring nations of 
 that free communication and exchange which the Au- 
 thor of the world has intended, by giving them soils, 
 climates, and geniuses, so different from each other. 
 
 Our modern politics embrace the only method of 
 banishing money, the using of paper-credit; they re- 
 ject the only method of amassing it, the practice of 
 hoarding; and they adopt a hundred contrivances, 
 which serve to no purpose but to check industry, and 
 rob ourselves and our neighbours of the common be- 
 nefits 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 men- 
 tioned. 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 southern colonies. And as it is nc-
 
 36G ESSAY V. 
 
 cessary that imposts should be levied for the support 
 of government, it may be thought more convenient to 
 lay them on foreign commodities, which can easily be 
 intercepted at the port, and subjected to the impost. 
 We ought, however, always to remember the maxim 
 of Dr Swift, that, in the arithmetic of the customs, 
 two and two make not four, but often make only one. 
 It can scarcely be doubted, but if the duties on wine 
 were lowered to a third, they would yield much more 
 to the government than at present : Our people might 
 thereby afford to drink commonly a better and more 
 wholesome liquor ; and no prejudice would ensue to 
 the balance of trade, of which we are so jealous. The 
 manufacture of ale beyond the agriculture is but in- 
 considerable, and gives employment to few hands. 
 The transport of wine and corn would not be much 
 inferior. 
 
 But are there not frequent instances, you will say, of 
 states and kingdoms, which were formerly rich and 
 opulent, and are now poor and beggarly ? Has not 
 the money left them, with which they formerly abound- 
 ed ? I answer, If they lose their trade, industry, and 
 people, they cannot expect to keep their gold and sil- 
 ver : For these precious metals will hold proportion to 
 the former advantages. Wlien Lisbon and Amster- 
 dam got the East India trade from Venice and Genoa, 
 they also got the profits and money which arose from 
 it. \\'here the seat of government is transferred, where 
 expensive armies are maintained at a distance, where 
 great funds are possessed by foreigners ; there natu- 
 rally 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
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF TRADE. 367 
 
 and industry. But where these remain, and the drain 
 is not continued, the money always finds its way back 
 again, by a hundred canals, of which we have no no- 
 tion or suspicion. What immense treasures have been 
 spent, by so many nations, in Flanders, since the Re- 
 volution, in the course of three long wars? More 
 money perha})s than the half of what is at present in 
 Europe. But what has now become of it? Is it in 
 the narrow compass of the Austrian provinces ? No, 
 surely : It has most of it returned to the several coun- 
 tries whence it came, and has followed that art and in- 
 dustry 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 Papal dominions the poorest territory in all 
 Italy. 
 
 In short, a government has great reason to preserve 
 with care its people and its manufactures. Its money, 
 it may safely trust to the course of human affairs, 
 without fear or jealousy. Or, if it ever give attention 
 to this latter circumstance, it ought only to be so far as 
 it affects the former.
 
 368 ESSAY YI. 
 
 ESSAY VI. 
 
 OF THE JEALOUSY OF TRADE. 
 
 Having endeavoured to remove one species of ill- 
 founded jealousy, which is so prevalent amonfr commer- 
 cial nations, it may not be amiss to mention another, 
 ■which seems equally groundless. Nothing is more 
 usual, among states which have made some advances 
 in commerce, than to look on the progress of their 
 neighbours with a suspicious eye, to consider all trad- 
 ing states as their rivals, and to suppose that it is im- 
 possible for any of them to flourish, but at their ex- 
 pense. In opposition to this narrow and malignant o- 
 pinion, I will venture to assert, that the increase of 
 riches and commerce in any one nation, instead of hurt- 
 ing, commonly promotes the riches and commerce of 
 all its neighbours ; and that a state can scarcely carry 
 its trade and industry very far, where all the surround- 
 ing states are buried in ignorance, sloth and barbarism. 
 
 It is obvious, that the domestic industry of a people 
 cannot be hurt by the greatest prosperity of their 
 neighbours; and as this branch of commerce is un- 
 doubtedly the most important in any extensive kingdom, 
 we are so far removed from all reason of jealousy. But
 
 OF THE JEALOUSY OF TRADE. 369 
 
 I go farther, and observe, that where an ()i)cn com- 
 munication is preserved among nations, it is impossible 
 but the domestic industry of every one must receive an 
 increase from the improvements of the others. Com- 
 pare the situation of Great Britain at present, with 
 what it was two centuries ago. All the arts, both of 
 agriculture and manufactures, were then extremely 
 rude and 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 inge- 
 nuity. But this intercourse is still upheld to our great 
 advantage : Notwithstanding the advanced state of our 
 manufactures, we daily adopt, in every art, the inven- 
 tions and improvements of our neighbours. The com- 
 modity is first imported from abroad, to our great dis- 
 content, while we imagine that it drains us of our mo- 
 ney : Afterwards, the art itself is gradually imported, 
 to our visible advantage : Yet we continue still to re- 
 pine, that our neighbours should possess any art, in- 
 dustry, and invention; forgetting that, had they not 
 first instructed us, we should have been at present bar- 
 barians ; and did they not still continue their instruc- 
 tions, the arts must fall into a state of languor, and 
 lose that emulation and novelty which contribute so 
 much to their advancement. 
 
 The inci'ease of domestic industry lays the founda- 
 tion of foreign commerce. Where a great number of 
 commodities are raised and perfected for the home mar- 
 ket, there will always be found some which can be ex- 
 ported with advantage. But if our neighbours have 
 no art or cultivation, they cannot take them ; because 
 they will have nothing to give in exchange. In this 
 respect, states are in the same condition as individuals. 
 
 VOL. III. A A
 
 370 ESSAY VI. 
 
 A single man cnn scarcely be industrious, where all his 
 fellow-citizens are idle. The riches of the several 
 memlxMs of a comniunily contribute to increase my 
 riches, whatever profession I may follow. They con- 
 sume the produce of my industry, and afford me the 
 produce of theirs in return. 
 
 Nor needs any state entertain apprehensions, that 
 their neighbours will improve to such a degree in every 
 art and manufacture, as to have no demand from them. 
 Nature, by giving a diversity of geniuses, climates, and 
 soils to different nations, has secured their mutual in- 
 tercourse and commerce, as long as they all remain in- 
 dustrious and civilized. Nay, the more the arts in- 
 crease in any state, the more will be its demands from 
 its industrious neighbours. The inhabitants, having 
 become opulent and skilful, desire to have every com- 
 modity in the utmost perfection; and as they have 
 plenty of commodities to give in excliange, they make 
 large importations from every foreign country. The 
 industry of the nations, from whom they import, re- 
 ceives encouragement: Their own is also increased, by 
 the sale of the commodities which they give in ex- 
 change. 
 
 But what if a nation has any staple commodity, such 
 as the woollen manufacture is in England ? Must not 
 the interfering of our neighbours in that manufacture 
 be a loss to us ? I answer, that, when any commodity 
 is denominated the staple of a kingdom, it is supposed 
 that this kingdom has some peculiar and natural ad- 
 vantages for raising the commodity ; and if, notwith- 
 standing these advantages, they lose such a manufac- 
 ture, they ought to blame their own idleness or bad 
 government, not the industry of their neighbours. It 
 ought also to be considered, that, by the increase of
 
 OF THE JEALOUSY OF TRADE. 371 
 
 industry among the neighbouring nations, the con- 
 sumption of every particuhir species of commodity is 
 also increased ; and though foreign manufactures inter- 
 fere with them in the market, the demand for their pro- 
 duct may still continue, or even increase. And should 
 it diminish, ought the consequence to be esteemed so 
 fatal? If the spirit of industry be preserved, it may 
 easily be diverted from one branch to another; and the 
 manufacturers of wool, for instance, be employed in 
 linen, silk, iron, or any other commodities for which 
 there appears to be a demand. We need not appre- 
 hend, that all the objects of industry will be exhaust- 
 ed, or that our manufacturers, while they remain on 
 an equal footing with those of our neighbours, will be 
 in danger of wanting employment. The emulation a- 
 mong rival nations serves rather to keep industry alive 
 in all of them : And any people is happier who pos- 
 sess a variety of manufactures, than if they enjoyed 
 one single great manufacture, in which they are all em- 
 ployed. Their situation is less precarious ; and they 
 will feel less sensibly those revolutions and uncertain- 
 ties, to which every particular branch of commerce 
 will always be exposed. 
 
 The only commercial state that ought to dread the 
 improvements and industry of their neighbours, is such 
 a one as the Dutch, who, enjoying no extent of land, 
 nor possessing any number of native connnodities, 
 flourish only by their being the brokers, and factors, 
 and carriers of others. Such a people may naturally 
 apprehend, that as soon as the neighbouring states 
 come to know and pursue their interest, they will take 
 into their own hands the management of their affairs, 
 and deprive their brokers of that profit which they 
 formerly reaped from it. But though this consequence 
 
 A A 2
 
 372 ESSAY vr. 
 
 may naturally be dreaded, it is very long before it 
 takes place ; and by art and industry it may be ward- 
 ed off for many generations, if not wholly eluded. 
 -The advantage of superior stocks and correspondence 
 is so great, that it is not easily overcome ; and as all 
 the transactions increase by the increase of industry in 
 the neighbouring states, even a people whose com- 
 merce stands on this precarious basis, may at first reap 
 a considerable profit from the flourishing condition of 
 their neighbours. The Dutch having mortgaged all 
 their revenues, make not such a figure in political 
 transactions as formerly ; but their commerce is surely 
 equal to what it was in the middle of the last century, 
 when they were reckoned among the great powers of 
 Europe. 
 
 Were our narrow and malignant politics to meet with 
 success, we should reduce all our neighbouring nations 
 to the same state of sloth and ignorance that prevails 
 in Morocco and the coast of Barbary. But what would 
 be the consequence? They could send us no commo- 
 dities : They could take none from us : Our domestic 
 commerce itself would languish for want of emulation, 
 cxamjile, and instruction : And we ourselves should 
 soon fall into the same abject condition, to which we 
 liad reduced them. I shall therefore venture to ac- 
 knowledge, that, not only as a man, but as a British 
 subject, I pray for the flourishing commerce of Ger- 
 many, Spain, Italy, and even France itself. I am at 
 least certain that Great Britain, and all those nations, 
 would flourish more, did their sovereigns and ministers 
 adopt such enlarged and benevolent sentiments to- 
 wards each other.
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 373 
 
 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 onl}' has been invented in these later ages ? It 
 is certain that Xenophon, ^ 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 elegant 
 composition should be supposed altogether a romance, 
 this sentiment, ascribed by the author to the Eastern 
 princes, is at least a proof of the prevailing notion of 
 ancient times. 
 
 In all the politics of Greece, the anxiety with regard 
 to the balance of power, is apparent, and is expressly 
 pointed out to us, even by the ancient historians. 
 Thucydides " represents the league which was formed 
 against Athens, and which produced the Peloponnesi- 
 an war, as entirely owing to this principle. And after 
 the decline of Athens, when the Thebans and Lace- 
 demonians disputed for sovereignty, we find that the 
 Athenians (as well as many other republics) always 
 
 ' Lib. i. ■" Lib. i.
 
 374 ESSAY vir. 
 
 threw themselves into the lighter scale, and endea- 
 voured to preserve the balance. They supported 
 Thebes against Sparta, till the great victory gained by 
 Epaminondas at Leuctra; after which they immedi- 
 ately went over to the conquered, from generosity, as 
 they pretended, but in reality from their jealousy of 
 the conquerors. " 
 
 Whoever will read Demosthenes's oration for the 
 Megalopolitans, may see the utmost refinements on 
 this principle that ever entered into the head of a Ve- 
 netian or English speculatist. And upon the first rise 
 of the Macedcmian power, this orator immediately dis- 
 covered the danger, sounded the alarm throughout all 
 Greece, and at last assembled that confederacy under 
 the banners of Athens which fought the great and de- 
 cisive battle of Chasronea. 
 
 It is true, the Grecian wars are regarded by histori- 
 ans as wars of emulation rather than of politics ; and 
 each state seems to have had more in view the honour 
 of leading the rest, than any well-grounded hopes of 
 authority and dominion. If we consider, indeed, the 
 small number of inhabitants in any one republic, com- 
 pared to the whole, the great difficulty of forming 
 sieges in those times, and the extraordinary bravery 
 and discipline of every freeman among that noble peo- 
 ple ; we shall conclude, that the balance of power was, 
 of itself, sufficiently secured in Greece, and needed not 
 to have been guarded with that caution which may be 
 requisite in other ages. But whether we ascribe the 
 shifting of sides in all the Grecian republics tojea- 
 lo7is emidalion or cautious j)olitics, the efiPects were alike, 
 and every prevailing power was sure to meet with a 
 
 " Xenoph. Hist. Grace, lib. vi. and vii.
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 3T5 
 
 confederacy against it, and that often composed of its 
 former Iriends and allies. 
 
 The same principle, call it envy or prudence, which 
 produced the Oslracism of Athens, and Petalism of 
 Syracuse, and expelled every citizen whose fame or 
 power overtopped the rest ; the same principle, I say, 
 naturally discovered itself in foreign politics, and soon 
 raised enemies to the leading state, however moderate 
 in the exercise of its authority. 
 
 The Persian monarch was really, in his force, a 
 petty prince compared to the Grecian republics ; and 
 therefore, it behoved him, from views of safety more 
 than from emulation, to interest himself in their quar- 
 rels, and to support the weaker side in every contest. 
 This was the advice given by Alcibiades to Tissapher- 
 nes, ° 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 Phi- 
 lip, brought that lofty and frail edifice to the ground, 
 with a rapidity of which there are few instances in the 
 history of mankind. 
 
 The successors of Alexander showed great jealousy 
 of the balance of power ; a jealousy founded on true 
 politics and prudence, and which preserved distinct for 
 several ages the partition made after the death of that 
 famous conqueror. The fortune and ambition of An- 
 ti'i-onus " threatened them anew with a universal mo- 
 narchy : but their combination, and their victory at 
 Ipsus, saved them. And in subsequent times, we find, 
 that, as the Eastern princes considered the Greeks and 
 Macedonians as the only real military force with whom 
 they had any intercourse, they kept always a watchful 
 
 ° Thucyd. lib. viii. p Diod. Sic. lib. xi.
 
 376 ESSAY VII. 
 
 eye over tliat part of tlie world. The Ptolemies, iir 
 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 mo- 
 narchs. For this is the account which Polybius gives 
 of the Egyptain politics.' 
 
 The reason why it is supposed that the ancients 
 were entirely ignorant of the balance of jpuwer^ seems 
 to be drawn from the Roman history more than the 
 Grecian ; and as the transactions of the former are ge- 
 nerally more familiar to us, we have thence formed all 
 our conclusions. It must be owned, that the Romans 
 never met with any such general combination or con- 
 federacy against them, as might naturally have been 
 expected from their rapid conquests and declared ambi- 
 tion, but were allowed peaceably to subdue their neigh- 
 bours, one after another, till they extended their do- 
 minion over the whole known world. Not to mention 
 the fabulous history of the * •" Italic wars, there was,. 
 
 ^ Lil). ii. cap. 51. 
 
 4 'i There liave strong suspicions of late arisen amongst critics, and, 
 in my opinion, not without reason, concerning the first ages of the Ho- 
 man liistory, as if they were almost entirely fabulous, till after the sack- 
 ing of the city by the Gauls, and were even doubtful for some time af- 
 terwards, till the Greeks began to give attention to Roman affairs, and 
 commit them to writing. Tliis scepticism seems to me, however, scarce- 
 ly defensible in its full extent, with regard to the domestic history of 
 JRome, wliich has some air of truth and probaliility, and could scarce be 
 the invention of an liistorian who liad so little morals or judgment as to 
 indulge himself in fiction and romance. The revolutions seem so well 
 proportioned to their causfs, the progress of their factions is so con- 
 formaljle to political exi)erience, the manners and maxims of the age 
 are so uniform and natural, that scarce any real history affords more just 
 reflection and improvement. Is not Machiavel's comment on Livy (a 
 work surely of great judgment and genius) founded entirely on this pe- 
 riod, which is represented as faljulouH? I would willingly, therefore, in 
 my private sentiments, divide the matter with these critics, and alloWy
 
 or THE BALANCE OF POWER. 377 
 
 upon Plannibal's invasion of the Roman state, a re- 
 markable crisis, which ought to have called up the at- 
 tention of all civilized nations. It appeared afterwards 
 (nor was it difficult to be observed at the time) ' that 
 this was a contest for universal empire ; yet no prince 
 or state seems to have been in the least alarmed about 
 the event or issue of the quarrel. 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 imprudent. He sti- 
 pulated, that he was to assist the Carthaginian state 
 in their conquest of Itah^ ; after which they engaged to 
 send over forces into Greece, to assist him in subduing 
 the Grecian commonwealths. 
 
 The Rhodian and Achaean republics are much cele- 
 brated by ancient historians for their wisdom and sound 
 policy ; yet both of them assisted the Romans in their 
 wars against Philip and Antiochus. And what may 
 be esteemed still a stronger proof, that this maxim was 
 not generally known in those ages, no ancient author 
 has remarked the imprudence of these measures, nor 
 
 that the battles and victories and triumphs of those ages had been ex- 
 tremely falsified by family memoirs, as Cicero says they were. But as, 
 in the accounts of domestic factions, there were two opposite relations 
 transmitted to posterity, tliis both served as a check upon fiction, and 
 enabled latter historians to gather some truth from comparison and rea- 
 soning. Half of the slaughter which Livy commits on the jEqui and 
 the Volsci would depopulate France and Germany ; and that historian, 
 though perhaps he may be justly charged as superficial, is at last shock- 
 ed himself with the incredulity of his narration. The same love of ex- 
 aggeration seems to have magnified the numbers of the Romans in their 
 armies and census. — Editions F, G. 
 
 '' It was observed by some, as appears by the speech of Agesilaus of 
 Naupactum, in the general congress of Greece. See Polyb. lib. v. cap. 
 104. 
 
 * Titi Livii, lib. xxiii. cap. 33.
 
 378 ESSAY VII. 
 
 has even blamed that absurd treaty above mentioned, 
 made by Philip with the Carthaginians. Princes and 
 statesmen, in all ages, ma}', before hand, be blinded in 
 their reasonings with regard to events : But it is some- 
 what extraordinary that historians, afterwards should 
 not form a sounder judgment of them. 
 
 Massinissa, Attalus, Prusias, in gratifying their pri- 
 vate passions, were all of them the instruments of the Ro- 
 man greatness, and never seem to have suspected, that 
 thev were forging their own chains, while they advanc- 
 ed the conquests of their all}'. A simple treat}' and a^ 
 greement between Massinissa and the Carthaginians, 
 so much required by mutual interest, barred the Ro- 
 mans from all entrance into Africa, and preserved li- 
 bertv to mankind. 
 
 Tilt; only prince we meet with in the Roman history, 
 who seems to have understood the balance of power, is 
 riiero, king of Syracuse. Though the ally of Rome, 
 he sent assistance to the Carthaginians during the war 
 of the auxiliaries; ' Esteeming it requisite,' says Poly- 
 bius, ' ' 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 contrast or opposition, to exe- 
 cute every purpose and undertaking. And here he 
 acted with great wisdom and prudence : For that is 
 never, on any account, to be overlooked ; nor ought such 
 a force ever to be thrown into one hand, as to incapa- 
 citate the neighbouring states from defending their 
 rights again«t it. ' Here is the aim of modern politics 
 pointed out in express terms. 
 
 In short, the maxim of preserving the balance of 
 
 ' Lib. i. cap, 83.
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF POWEIt. 379 
 
 power is founded so much on common sense and ob- 
 vious reasoning, that it is impossible it could altogether 
 have escaped antiquity, where we find, in other parti- 
 culars, so many marks of deep penetration and discern- 
 ment. If it was not so generally known and acknow- 
 ledged as at present, it had at least an influence on all 
 the wiser and more experienced princes and politicians. 
 And indeed, even at present, however generally known 
 and acknowledged among speculative reasoncrs, 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 go- 
 vernment, established by the northern conquerors, in- 
 capacitated them, in a great measure, for farther con- 
 quests, and long maintained each state in its proper 
 boundaries. But when vassalage and the feudal militia 
 were abolished, mankind were anew alarmed by the 
 danger of universal monarchy, from the union of so 
 many kingdoms and principalities in the person of the 
 Emperor Charles. But the power of the house of Aus- 
 tria, founded on extensive but divided dominions; and 
 their riches, derived chiefly from mines of gold and 
 silver, were more likely to decay of themselves, from in- 
 ternal defects, than to overthrow all the bulwarks rais- 
 ed against them. In less than a century, the force of that 
 violent and haughty race was shattered, their opulence 
 dissipated, their splendour eclipsed. A new power suc- 
 ceeded, more formidable to the liberties of Europe, 
 possessing all the advantages of the former, and labour- 
 ing under none of its defects, except a share of that 
 spirit of bigotry and persecution, with which the house 
 of Austria was so long, and still is, so much infatuated. ^^ 
 
 4 3 Europe has now, for above a century, remained on the defensive 
 against the greatest force that ever perhaps was formed by the civil or
 
 380 ESSAY VII. 
 
 In the general wars maintained against this ambiti- 
 ous power, Great Britain has stood foremost, and she 
 still maintains her station. Beside her advantages of 
 riches and situation, her people are animated with such 
 a national spirit, and are so fully sensible of the bless- 
 ings of their government, that we may hope their vi- 
 gour never will languish in so necessary and so just a 
 cause. On the contrary, if we may judge by the past, 
 their passionate ardour seems rather to require some 
 moderation ; and they have oftener erred from a laud- 
 able excess than from a blameable deficiency. 
 
 In the first place, we seem to have been more pos- 
 sessed with the ancient Greek spirit of jealous emula- 
 tion, than actuated by the prudent views of modern po- 
 litics. Oar wars with France have been begun with 
 justice, and even perhaps from necessity, but have al- 
 ways been too far pushed, from obstinacy and passion. 
 The same peace, which was afterwards made at Rys- 
 wick in 1G97, 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 
 hi the year eight ; and we might have given at Frank- 
 fort, in 1713, the same terms which we were glad to 
 
 political combination of mankind. And sudi is the influence of the 
 maxim here treated of, that, though that ambitious nation, in tlie five 
 lait general wars, Iiave been victorious in four, * and unsuccessful only 
 in one, j- they have not much enlarged their dominions, nor acquired a 
 total ascendant over Euroiie. On tlie contrary, there remains stiH some 
 hope of maintaining the resistance so long, that the natural revolutions 
 of human affairs, togetlier with unforeseen events and accidents, may 
 guard us against universal monarchy, and preserve the world from so 
 great an evil — EninoNs F, G, II, N. 
 
 • Tliose concluded by the peace of the Pyrenees, Nimcgucn, Rys- 
 wick, and Aix-Li-Chapelle. 
 
 t Iliat concluded by the peace of Utrecht.
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF POWER. 381 
 
 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 oppo- 
 sition to French power, and so alert in defence of our 
 allies, that they always reckon upon our force as upon 
 their own ; and expecting to carry on war at our ex- 
 pense, refuse all reasonable terms of accommodation. 
 Hahcnt suhjcctos, tanquam suos ; viles, ut alienos. All 
 the world knows, that the factious vote of the House 
 of Commons, in the beginning of the last Parliament, 
 with the professed humour of the nation, made the 
 Queen of Hungary inflexible in her terms, and prevent- 
 ed that agreement with Prussia, which would immedi- 
 ately have restored the general tranquillity of Europe. 
 
 In the third place, we are such true combatants, that, 
 when once eno;as:ed, 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 wars where we were only accessaries, 
 was surely the most fatal delusion that a nation, which 
 had any pretension to politics and prudence, has ever 
 yet been guilty of. That remedy of funding, if it be a 
 remedy, and 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 expedient. 
 
 These excesses, to which we have been carried, are 
 prejudicial, and may, perhaps, in time, become still 
 more prejudicial 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
 
 382 ESSAY VII. 
 
 Athenians, from the most bustling, intriguing, warlike, 
 people of Greece, finding their error in thrusting them- 
 selves into every quarrel, abandoned all attention to fo- 
 reign affairs ; and in no contest ever took part on ei- 
 ther side, except by their flatteries and complaisance to 
 the victor. 
 
 Enormous monarchies *"• are probably destructive to 
 human nature in their progress, in their continuance, 
 and even in their downfal, which never can be very dis- 
 tant from their establishment. The military genius 
 which aggrandized the monarchy, soon leaves the court, 
 the capital, and the centre of such a government, while 
 the wars are carried on at a great distance, and inter- 
 est so small a part of the state. The ancient nobility, 
 whose aifections attach them to their sovereign, live all 
 at court, and never will accept of military employments, 
 which would carry them to remote and barbarous fron- 
 tiers, where they are distant both from their pleasures 
 and their fortune. The arms of the state must there- 
 fore be intrusted to mercenary strangers, without zeal, 
 without attachment, without honour, ready on every oc- 
 casion to turn tliem against the prince, and join each 
 desperate malcontent who offers pay and plunder. This 
 is the necessary progress of human affairs. Thus hu- 
 man nature checks itself in its airy elevation; thus am- 
 bition blindly labours for the destruction of the con- 
 queror, 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. 
 
 "1 4 Such as Europe is at present threatened with. — Editions F, G, H. 
 
 " If the lloman empire was of advantage, it could only proceed from 
 this, that mankind were generaally in a very disorderly, uncivilized con- 
 dition before its cbtablisliment.
 
 OF THE BALANCE OF POTV'EK. 383 
 
 These, while fired with glory and emulation, can bear 
 the fatiffues and danQ;ers of war; but never would sub- 
 mit to languish in the garrisons of Hungary or Lithu- 
 ania, 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, Hus- 
 sars and Cossacs, intermingled, perhaps, with a few 
 soldiers of fortune from the better provinces ; and the 
 melancholy fate of the Roman emperors, from the 
 same cause, is renewed over and over again, till the 
 final dissolution of the monarchy.
 
 384 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 OF TAXES. 
 
 There is a prevailing maxim among some reasoners, 
 That every new fax creates a neiso ahilUrj in the subject to 
 bear it, and that each increase of public burdens increases 
 jiroportionabhj the industry of the people. This maxim 
 is of such a nature, as is most likely to be abused, and 
 is so much the more dangerous, as its truth cannot be 
 altogether denied ; but it must be owned, when kept 
 within certain bounds, to have some foundation in rea- 
 son and experience. 
 
 Wlien a tax is laid upon commodities which are 
 consumed by the common people, the necessary conse- 
 quence may seem to be, either that the poor must re- 
 trench something from their way of living, or raise 
 their wages, so as to make the burden of the tax fall 
 entirely upon the rich. But there is a third conse- 
 quence which often follows upon taxes, namely, that 
 the poor increase their industry, perform more work, 
 and live as well as before, without demanding more 
 f(;r their labour. Where taxes are moderate, are laid 
 on gradually, and affect not the necessaries of life, this 
 consequence naturally follows ; and it is certain, that
 
 OF TAXES. 385 
 
 such tlifliculties often serve to excite the industry of a 
 people, and render them more opulent and laborious 
 than others, who enjoy the greatest advantages; for 
 we may observe, as a parallel instance, that the most 
 commercial nations have not always possessed the 
 greatest extent of fertile land, but, on the contrary, 
 that they have laboured under many natural disadvan- 
 tages. Tyre, Athens, Carthage, Rhodes, Genoa, Ve- 
 nice, Holland, are strong examples to this purpose ; 
 and in all history, we find only three instances of large 
 and fertile countries which have possessed much trade, 
 the Netherlands, England, and France. The two for- 
 mer seem to have been allured by the advantages of 
 their maritime situation, and the necessity they lay 
 under of frequenting foreign ports, in order to procure 
 what their own climate refused them ; and as to France, 
 trade has come late into that kingdom, and seems to 
 have been the effect of reflection and observation in an 
 ingenious and enterprising people, who remarked the 
 riches acquired by such of the neighbouring nations as 
 cultivated navigation and commerce. 
 
 The places mentioned by Cicero, ' as possessed of 
 the greatest commerce in his time, are Alexandria, 
 Colchus, Tyre, Sidon, Andros, Cyprus, Pamphylia, 
 Lycia, Rhodes, Chios, Byzantium, Lesbos, Smyrna, 
 Miletum, Coos. All these, except Alexandria, were 
 either small islands, or narrow territories ; and that 
 city owed its trade entirely to the happiness of its 
 situation. 
 
 Since, therefore, some natural necessities or disad- 
 vantages may be thought favourable to industr}', why 
 may not artificial burdens have the same effect ? Sir 
 
 ' Epist. ad Att. lib. ix. cp. 1 1. 
 VOL. III. B B
 
 386 ESSAY VIII. 
 
 \\'^illiam Temple, '' we may observe, ascribes the in- 
 dustry of the Dutch entirely to necessity, proceed- 
 infj from their natural disadvantafjes ; and illustrates 
 his doctrine by a striking comparison with Ireland, 
 * where, ' says he, ' by the largeness and plenty of 
 the soil, and scarcity of people, all things necessary to 
 life are so cheap, that an industrious man, by two days' 
 labour, may gain enough to feed him the rest of the 
 week ; which I take to be a verj'^ plain ground of the 
 laziness attributed to the people; for men naturally 
 prefer ease before labour, and will not take pains if 
 they can live idle ; though when, by necessity, they 
 have been inured to it, they cannot leave it, being 
 grown a custom necessary to their health, and to their 
 very entertainment. Nor perhaps is the change harder, 
 from constant ease to labour, than from constant la- 
 bour to ease. ' After which the author proceeds to 
 confirm his doctrine, by enumerating, as above, the 
 places where trade has most flourished in ancient and 
 modern times, and which are commonly observed to 
 be such narrow confined territories, as beget a neces- 
 sity for industr}'. ■* ^ . 
 
 '' Account of the Netherlands, chap. 6. 
 
 4 5 It is always observed in years of scarcity, if it be not extreme, that 
 the poor labour more, and really live better, than in years of great plen- 
 ty, when they indulge themselves in idleness and riot. I have been 
 told, by a considerable manufacturer, that in the year 1740, when bread 
 and provisions of all kinds were verj' dear, his workmen not only made 
 a shift to live, but paid debts which they had contracted in former years 
 that were much more favourable and abundant. * 
 
 Tliis doctrine, therefore, with regard to taxes, may be admitted in 
 some degree ; but beware of the abuse. Taxes, like necessity, wlieu 
 carried too far, destroy industry, by engendering despair ; and even be- 
 
 • To this purpose, see also Essay I. at the end.
 
 OF TAXES. 387 
 
 The best taxes are such as are levied upon consump- 
 tions, especially those of luxury, because such taxes 
 are least felt by the people. They seem in some mea- 
 sure 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 so- 
 briety and frugalit)', 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 are levied without expense, 
 but have every other disadvantage. Most states, how- 
 ever, are obliged to have recourse to them, in order to 
 supply the deficiencies of the other. 
 
 But the most pernicious of all taxes are the arbitrary. 
 They are commonly converted, by their management, 
 into punishments on industry ; and also, by their un- 
 avoidable inequality, are more grievous, than by the 
 real burden which they imjiose. It is surprising, 
 therefore, to see them have place among any civilized 
 people. 
 
 In general, all poll-taxes, even when not arbitrary, 
 which they commonly are, may be esteemed dano-er- 
 ous : Because it is so easy for the sovereign to add a 
 little more, and a little more, to the sum demanded, 
 
 fore they reach this pitch, they raise the wages of the labourer and ma- 
 nufacturer, and heighten the price of all commodities. An attentive 
 disinterested legislature will observe the point wlien the emolument 
 ceases, and the prejudice begins ; but as the contrary cliaracter is nuich 
 more common, it is to be feared that taxes all over Europe are multiply- 
 ing to such a degree as will entirely crush all art and industry, though 
 perhaps their past increase, along with other circumstances, might con- 
 tribute to the growth of these advantages. — Editions F, G, H, N. 
 
 BB 2
 
 388 ESSAY vrir. 
 
 that these t«axes are apt to become altogether oppres- 
 sive 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 re- 
 venue. It is not eas}', therefore, for a people to be 
 altogether ruined by such taxes. 
 
 Historians inform us, that one of the chief causes of 
 the destruction of the Roman state, was the alteration 
 which Constantine introduced into the finances, by 
 substituting an universal poll-tax, in lieu of almost all 
 the tithes, customs, and excises, which formerly com- 
 posed the revenue of the empire. The people, in all 
 the provinces, were so grinded and oppressed by the 
 jyuhlicanSi that they were glad to take refuge under the 
 conquering arms of the barbarians, whose dominion, 
 as they had fewer necessities and less art, was found 
 preferable to the refined tyranny of the Romans. 
 
 It is an opinion, zealously promoted by some politi- 
 cal writers, that, since all taxes, as they pretend, fall 
 ultimately upon land, it were better to lay them origi- 
 nally there, and abolish every duty upon consumptions. 
 But it is denied that all taxes fall ultimately upon land. 
 If a duty be laid upon any commodity consumed by an 
 artisan, he has two obvious expedients for pa3^ing it : 
 lie may retrench somewhat of his expense, or he may 
 increase his labour. Both these resources are more 
 easy and natural than that of heightening his wages. 
 We see, that, in years of scarcity, the weaver either 
 consumes less or labours more, or employs both these 
 expedients of frugality and industry, by which he is 
 enabled to reach the end of the year. It is but just 
 that he should subject himself to the same hardships, 
 if they deserve the name, for the sake of the public 
 which gives liim protection. By what contrivance can
 
 OF TAXES. 389 
 
 he raise the price of his labour ? The manufacturer 
 who employs him will not give him more : Neither can 
 he, because the merchant who exports the cloth can- 
 not 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 pre- 
 vail altogether in this contest. And w-hy the landed 
 gentleman should be the victim of the whole, and 
 should not be able to defend himself, as well as others 
 are, I cannot readily imagine. All tradesmen, indeed, 
 would willingly prey upon him, and divide him among 
 them, if they could : But this inclination they always 
 have, though no taxes were levied ; and the same me- 
 thods 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 en- 
 abled to pay by superior industry and frugality, with- 
 out raising the price of his labour. 
 
 I shall conclude this subject with observing, that we 
 have, with regard to taxes, an instance of what fre- 
 quently happens in political institutions, that the con- 
 sequences of things are diametrically opposite to what 
 we should expect on the first appearance. It is re- 
 garded as a fundamental maxim of the Turkish go- 
 vernment, that the Grand Seignior, 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
 
 390 ESSAY VI 11. 
 
 perseverance. One would imagine, that this prejudice 
 or establislied 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 
 bashaws and governors 'to oppress and abuse the sub- 
 jects; and these he squeezes after their return from 
 their government. Whereas, if he could impose a 
 new tax, like our European princes, his interest would 
 so far be united with tliat of his people, that he would 
 immediately feel the bad effects of these disorderly le- 
 vies of mone}', and would find, that a pound, raised 
 by a general imposition, would have less pernicious ef- 
 fects than a shilling taken in so unequal and arbitrary 
 a manner.
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 391 
 
 ESSAY IX. 
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 
 
 It appears to have been the common practice of an- 
 tiquity, to make provision, during peace, for the ne- 
 cessities of war, and to hoard up treasures beforehand 
 as the instruments either of conquest or defence ; with- 
 out trusting to extraordinary impositions, much less to 
 borrowing in times of disorder and confusion. Besides 
 the immense sums above mentioned, '^ which were a- 
 massed by Athens, and by the Ptolemies, and other 
 successors of Alexander; we learn from Plato," that 
 the frujjal Lacedemonians had also collected a great 
 treasure ; and Arrian " and Plutarch " take notice of 
 the riches which Alexander got possession of on the 
 conquest of Susa and Ecbatana, and which were re- 
 served, some of them, from the time of Cyrus. If I 
 remember right, the Scripture also mentions the trea- 
 sure of Hezekiah and the Jewish princes ; as profane 
 
 » Essay V. " Alcib. 1. b Lib. iii. 
 
 "^ Plut. in vita Alex. He 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.
 
 392 ESSAY IX. 
 
 history does that of Phihp and Perseus, kings of Ma- 
 cedon. The ancient repubhcs of Gaul had commonly 
 large sums in reserve. "^ Every one knows the treasure 
 seized in Rome by Julius Caesar, during the civil wars: 
 and we find afterwards, that the wiser emperors, Au- 
 gustus, Tiberius, Vespasian, Severus, &c. always dis- 
 covered the prudent foresight of saving great sums a- 
 gainst any public exigency. 
 
 On the contrary, our modern expedient, which has 
 become very general, is to mortgage the public reve- 
 nues, and to trust that posterity will pay off the in- 
 cumbrances contracted 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 a- 
 gainst a practice which appears ruinous beyond all con- 
 troversy, it seems pretty apparent, that the ancient 
 maxims are, in this respect, more prudent than the 
 modern ; even though the latter had been confined 
 •within some reasonable bounds, and had ever, in any 
 instance, been attended with such frugality, in time of 
 peace, as to discharge the debts incurred by an expen- 
 sive war. For wliy should the case be so different be- 
 tween the public and an individual, as to make us esta- 
 blisli different maxims of conduct for each ? If the 
 funds of the former be greater, its necessary expenses 
 are proportionably larger ; if its resources be more nu- 
 merous, 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 
 
 <> Strabo, lib, iv.
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 393 
 
 maxims, larp;e, 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 una- 
 voidable ; but whoever voluntarily depend on such re- 
 sources, have not necessity, but their own folly to ac- 
 cuse for their misfortunes, when any such befall them. 
 
 If the abuses of treasures be dangerous, either by 
 engaging the state in rash enterprises, or making it 
 neglect military discipline, in confidence of its riches ; 
 the abuses of mortgajrino; are more certain and inevi- 
 table ; poverty, impotence, 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 pro- 
 duced an uncommon affluence of gold and silver, serv- 
 ed as a temporary encouragement to industry, and a- 
 toned, in some degree, for the inevitable calamities of 
 war. 
 
 It is very tempting to a minister to employ such an 
 expedient, as enables him to make a great figure dur- 
 ing his administration, without overburdening the peo- 
 ple with taxes, or exciting any immediate clamours a- 
 gainst himself. The practice, therefore, of contract- 
 ing debt, will almost infallibly be abused in every go- 
 vernment. It would scarcely be more imprudent to 
 give a prodigal son a credit in every banker's shop in 
 London, than to empower a statesman to draw bills, 
 in this manner, upon posterity. 
 
 What, then, shall we say to the new paradox, that 
 public incumbrances are, of themselves, advantageous,
 
 394 ESSAY IX. 
 
 iiulej)endcnt of the necessity of contracting them ; and 
 that any state, even though it were not pressed by a 
 foreign enemy, could not possibly have embraced a 
 Miser expedieiit for promoting commerce and riches, 
 than to create funds, and debts, and taxes, without li- 
 mitation? Reasonings, such as these, might naturally 
 have passed for trials of wit among rhetoricians, like 
 the panegyrics on folly and fever, on Busiris and Nero? 
 had we not seen such absurd maxims patronized by 
 great ministers, and by a whole party among us. "^ 
 
 Let us examine the consequences of })ublic debts, 
 both in our domestic management, by their influence 
 on commerce and industry ; and in our foreign trans- 
 actions, by their effect on wars and negociations. ''^ 
 
 4 6 Immediately after this, in the Editions F, G, H, N, there follow- 
 ed — ' And these puzzling arguments (for they deserve not the name of 
 specious), though they could not be the foundation of Lord Orford's 
 conduct, for he liad more sense, served at least to keej) liis partisans in 
 countenance, and perplex tlie understanding of the nation. ' 
 
 4 7 In Editions F, G, H, N, tliere followed — ' Tliere is a word, vi'hich 
 is here in the niouth of every body, and which I iind has also got abroad, 
 and is mudi employed by foreign writers,* in imitation of the English; 
 and that is Circulation. Tliii- word serves as an account of every thing ; 
 and though I confess tliat I have sought for its meaning in Ihe present 
 subject, ever since I was a school-boy, I have never yet been able to 
 discover it. What possible advantage is there which the nation can reap 
 by the easy transference of stock from hand to hand ? Or is there any 
 parallel to be drawn from the circulation of other commodities to that of 
 Chequer notes and India bonds? Where a manufacturer has a quick 
 sale of his goods to the merchant, the merchant to the shopkeeper, the 
 shopkeeper to his customers, this enlivens industry, and gives new en- 
 couragement to the (irst dealer, or the manufacturer and all In's trades- 
 men, and makes them produce more and better commodities of the same 
 species. A stagnation is here pernicious, wherever it happens, because 
 it operates backwards, and stops or benumbs the industrious hand in its 
 production of what is useful to human life. But what production we 
 
 • jNItlon, du Tut, Law, in the Pamphlets published in France.
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 395 
 
 Public securities are with us become a kind of mo- 
 ney, and pass as readily at the current price as f^old or 
 silver. Wherever any profitable undertaking offers it- 
 self, how expensive 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 merchant thinks it necessary 
 to keep by him any considerable cash. Bank- stock, or 
 India bonds, especially the latter, serve all the same 
 purposes ; because he can dispose of them, or pledge 
 them to a banker, in a quarter of an hour ; and at the 
 same time they are not idle, even when in his scrutoire, 
 but bring him in a constant revenue. In short our na- 
 tional debts furnish merchants with a species of money 
 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, 
 
 owe to Change- Alley, or even what consumption, except that of coffee, and 
 pen, ink and paper, I have not yet learned ; nor can one foresee the loss 
 or decay of any one beneficial commerce or commodity, though that 
 place, and all its inhabitants, were for ever buried in the ocean. 
 
 But though this term, circulation, has never been explained by those 
 who insist so much on the advantages that result from it, there seems, 
 however, to be some beneiit of a similar kind arising from our encum- 
 brances : As indeed, what human evil is there, which is not attended 
 with some advantage ? This we shall endeavour to explain, that we may 
 'estimate the weight we ought to allow it.'
 
 396 ESSAY IX. 
 
 a set of men, who are half mercliants, half stockhold- 
 ers, aiul may be supposed williiifr to trade for small 
 profits ; because commerce is not their principal or sole 
 support, and their revenues in the funds are a sure re- 
 source 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 disad- 
 vantages in comparison of funds. Requiring more 
 care and inspection, it divides the time and attention 
 of the merchant : Upon any tempting offer or extra- 
 ordinary accident in trade, it is not so easily converted 
 into money ; and as it attracts too much, both by the 
 many natural pleasures it affords, and the authority it 
 gives, it soon converts the citizen into the country 
 gentleman. More men, therefore, with large stocks 
 and incomes, may naturally be supposed to continue 
 in trade, where there are public debts; and this, it 
 must be owned, is of some advantage to commerce, by 
 diminishing its profits, promoting circulation, and en- 
 courauin<r industry. *^ 
 
 But, in ojiposition to these two favourable circum- 
 stances, perhaps of no very great importance, weigh 
 the many disadvantages which attend our public debts 
 in the whole interior economy of the state: You will 
 find no comparison between the ill and the good which 
 result from them. 
 
 "l f* In EiJiTioss 1', G, II, tliure is the following note. ' On this head 
 I shall observe, ■without interrupting the tlircad of the argument, that 
 the multi])licity of our public debts serves rather to sink the interest, 
 and that the more the government borrows, the cheaper may they ex- 
 pect to borrow, contrary to past experience, and contrary to common 
 opinion. The profits of treuic have an influence on interest. ' See Dxs- 
 cot°&&£ IV'.
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 397 
 
 First, It is certain that national debts cause a miglity 
 confluence of people and riches to the capital, by the 
 great sums levied in the provinces to pay the interest, 
 and perhaps, too, by the advantag-es in trade above 
 mentioned, which they give the merchants in the capi- 
 tal 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 apprehen- 
 sive of the consequences. For my own part, I cannot 
 forbear thinking, that, though the head is undoubtedly 
 too large for the body, yet that great city is so hap- 
 pily situated, that its excessive bulk causes less incon- 
 venience than even a smaller capital to a greater king- 
 dom. There is more difference between the prices of 
 all provisions in Paris and Languedoc, than between 
 those in London and Yorkshire. The immense jrreat- 
 ness, indeed, of London, under a government which 
 admits not of discretionary power, renders the people 
 factious, mutinous, seditious, and even perhaps rebel- 
 lious. But to this evil the national debts themselves 
 tend to provide a remedy. The first visible eruption, 
 or even immediate danger of public disorders, must 
 alarm all the stockholders, whose property is the most 
 precarious of any ; and will make them fly to the sup- 
 port of government, whether menaced by Jacobitish 
 violence, or democratical frenzy. 
 
 Secondly, Public stocks, being a kind of paper-cre- 
 dit, 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 pro-
 
 39S ESSAY IX. 
 
 visions and labour dearer than otlierwise they would 
 be. "' 
 
 TJiirdly, The taxes which are levied to pay the in- 
 terests of these debts are apt either to heighten the 
 price of labour, or to be an oppression on the poorer 
 sort. 
 
 Fourlhli/, As foreigners possess a great share of our 
 national funds, they render the public in a manner 
 tributary to them, and may in time occasion the trans- 
 port of our people and our industry. 
 
 FiflJiljj^ The greater part of the public stock being 
 always in the hands of idle people, who live on their 
 revenue, our funds, in that view, give great encourage- 
 ment to an useless and inactive life. 
 
 But though the injury that arises to commerce and 
 industry from our public funds will appear, uj)on ba- 
 lancing the whole, not inconsiderable, it is trivial in 
 comjjarison of the prejudice that results to a state con- 
 sidered as a body })olitic, 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 unmixed, without any favourable cir- 
 cumstance to atone for it; and it is an ill too of a na- 
 ture the highest and most important. 
 
 We have indeed been told, that the public is no 
 
 4 1' We may also remark, that this increase of prices, derived from 
 paper. credit, has a more durable and a more dangerous influence than 
 wlien it arises from a great increase of gold and silver : Wlicre an acci- 
 dental overflow of money raises the price of labour and commodities, 
 the evil remedies itself in a little time. Tlie money soon flows out into 
 all the neighbouring nations: The prices fall to a level : and industry 
 may be continued as before; a relief which cannot be expected wlicre 
 tlie circulating specie consists chiefly of paper, and has no intrinsic va- 
 lue. — Ekition N.
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 399 
 
 weaker on account of its debts, since they are mostly 
 due among ourselves, and bring as mucli 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 tlian before. 
 Such loose reasoning and specious comparisons will 
 always pass where we judge not upon principles. I 
 ask, Is it possible, in the nature of things, to overbur- 
 den a nation with taxes, even where the sovereisn re- 
 sides among them ? The very doubt seems extrava- 
 gant, since it is requisite, in every communit\', that 
 there be a certain proportion observed between the la- 
 borious and the idle part of it. But if all our present 
 taxes be morto-ao-ed, must we not invent new ones ? 
 And may not this matter be carried to a length that is 
 ruinous and destructive ? 
 
 In every nation there are always some methods of 
 levying money more easy than others, agreeably to the 
 way of living of the people, and the commodities they 
 make use of. In Great Britain, the excises upon malt 
 and beer afford a large revenue, because the opera- 
 tions of malting and brewing are tedious, and are im- 
 possible to be concealed ; and, at the same time, these 
 commodities are not so absolutely necessary to life as 
 that the raising of their price would very much affect 
 the poorer sort. These taxes being all mortgaged, 
 what difficulty to find new ones ! what vexation and 
 ruin of the poor ! 
 
 Duties upon consumptions are more equal and easy 
 than those upon possessions. Wliat a loss to the pub- 
 lic that the former are all exhausted, and that we must 
 have recourse to the more grievous method of levying 
 taxes ! 
 
 Were all the proprietors of land only stewards to
 
 100 ESSAY IXi 
 
 the public, must not necessity force them to practise 
 all the arts of oppression used by stewards, where the 
 absence or nc<^ligence of the proprietor render them 
 secure aj^ainst incjuiry ? 
 
 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 excises. There is something, therefore, 
 in the case, beside the mere transferring of property 
 from the one hand to another. In five hundred years, 
 the posterity of those now in the coaches, and of those 
 npon the boxes, will probably have changed places, 
 without affecting the public by these revolutions. 
 
 Suppose the public once fairly brought to that con- 
 dition to which it is hastening with such amazing rapi- 
 dity ; suppose the land to be taxed eighteen or nine- 
 teen shillings in the poiuul, for it can never bear the 
 whole twenty ; suppose all the excises and customs to 
 be screwed uj) to the utmost which the nation can 
 bear, without entirely losing its commerce and indus- 
 try ; 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 con- 
 sider the necessary consequences of this situation, 
 ThDugli the imperfect state of our poHtical knowledge, 
 and the narrow capacities of men, make it difficult to 
 foretel the effects which will result from any untried 
 measure, the seeds of ruin are here scattered with such 
 |)rofusion as not to escape the eye of the most careless 
 observer. 
 
 In this unnatural state of society, the only persons 
 who possess any revenue beyond the immediate effects
 
 OF PUBLIC CIlEDIT. 401 
 
 of their Industry, are the stockhoklers, who draw al- 
 most all the rent of the land and houses, besides the 
 produce of all the customs and excises. These are 
 men who have no connexions witli the state, who can 
 enjoy their revenue in any part of the globe in which 
 they choose to reside, who will naturally bury them- 
 selves in the capital, or in great cities, and who will 
 sink into the lethargy of a stupid and pampered lux- 
 ury, without spirit, ambition, or enjoyment. Adieu to 
 all ideas of nobility, gentry, and family. The stocks 
 can be transferred in an instant ; and, being in such a 
 fluctuating state, will seldom be transmitted during 
 three generations from father to son. Or were they 
 to remain ever so long in one family, they convey no 
 hereditary authority or credit to the possessor ; and 
 by this means the several ranks of men, which form a 
 kind of independent magistracy in a state, instituted 
 by the hand of nature, are entirely lost ; and every 
 man in authority derives his influence from the com- 
 mission alone of the sovereign. No expedient remains 
 for preventing or suppressing insurrections but mer- 
 cenary armies : No expedient at all remains for re- 
 sisting tyranny : Elections are swayed by bribery and 
 corruption alone : And the middle power between king 
 and people being totally removed, a grievous despo- 
 tism must infallibly prevail. The landholders, despis- 
 ed 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 legis- 
 lature never to impose any tax which hurts commerce 
 and discourages industry, it will be impossible for men, 
 in subjects of such extreme delicacy, to reason so just- 
 ly as never to be mistaken, or, amidst difficulties so 
 lu'gent, never to be seduced from their resolution. 
 
 VOL. III. c c
 
 402 ESSAY IX. 
 
 The continual fliictiintions in commerce require conti- 
 nual alterations in the nature of the taxes, which ex- 
 poses the legislature every moment to the clanger both 
 of willul and involuntary error. And any great blow 
 given to trade, whether by injudicious taxes or by 
 other accidents, throws the whole system of govern- 
 ment into confusion. 
 
 But what expedient can the public now employ, even 
 su}iposing trade to continue in the most flourishing con- 
 dition, in order to support its foreign wars and enter- 
 prises, and to defend its own honour and interest, or 
 those of its allies ? I do not ask how the public is to 
 exert such a prodigious power as it has maintained dur- 
 ing our late wars ; where we have so much exceeded, 
 not only our own natural strength, but even that of the 
 greatest em{)ires. This extravagance is the abuse com- 
 plained of, as the source of all the dangers to which we 
 are at present exposed. But since we must still sup- 
 pose great commerce and opulence to remain, even af- 
 ter every fund is mortgaged ; these riches must be de- 
 ieiuled 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 annuitants, or, which 
 is the same thing, from mortgaging anew, on every ex- 
 igency, a certain part of their annuities; and thus mak- 
 ing them contri])ute to their own defence, and to that 
 of the nation. iJut the difficulties attending this system 
 of policy will easily appear, whether we suppose the 
 king to have become absolute master, or to be still con- 
 trolled by national councils, in which the annuitants 
 themselves must necessarily bear the principal sway. 
 
 it the prince has become absolute, as may naturally 
 be exj)ected from this situation of a/Iairs, it is so easy 
 for hiui to increase his exactions upon the ainuiitants.
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 403 
 
 which amount only to the retaining of money in his own 
 hands, that tliis species of property would soon lose all 
 its credit, and the whole income of every individual in 
 the state must lie entirely at the mercy of the sovereign ; 
 a degree of despotism which no oriental monarchy has 
 ever yet attained. If, on the contrary, the consent of 
 the annuitants be requisite for every taxation, they will 
 never be persuaded to contribute sufficiently even to the 
 support of government; as the diminution of their re- 
 venue must in that case be very sensible, would not be 
 disguised under the appearance of a branch of excise 
 or customs, and would not be shared by any other or- 
 der of the state, who are already supposed to be taxed 
 to the utmost. There are instances, in some republics, 
 of a hundredth penny, and sometimes of the fiftieth, 
 being given to the support of the state ; but this is al- 
 ways an extraordinary exertion of power, and can never 
 become the foundation of a constant national defence. 
 We have always found, where a government has mort- 
 gaged all its revenues, that it necessarily sinks into a 
 state of languor, inactivity, and impotence. 
 
 Such ai'e the inconveniences which may reasonably 
 be foreseen of this situation to which Great Britain is 
 visibly tending. Not to mention the numberless incon- 
 veniences, which cannot be foreseen, and which must 
 result from so monstrous a situation as that of makinaf 
 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 projec- 
 tors have been able to invent. 
 
 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 ve- 
 hemently complain of with regard to their religious 
 
 c c 2
 
 404. ESSAY IX. 
 
 doctrines. We all own that tlic most sanguine ima- 
 gination cannot hope, either that this or any future 
 ministry will be possessed of such rigid and steady fru- 
 gality, as to make a considerable progress in the pay- 
 ment of our debts ; or that the situation of foreign af- 
 fairs will, for any long time, allow them leisure and 
 tranquillity for such an midertaking. ^° IVhat then is 
 to become of its ? Were we ever so good Christians, and 
 ever so resigned to Providence; this, methinks, were a 
 curious question, even considered as a speculative one, 
 and what it might not be altogether impossible to form 
 some conjectural solution of. The events here will de- 
 pend little upon the contingencies of battles, negocia- 
 tions, intrigues and factions. There seems to be a na- 
 tural progress of tilings which may guide our reason- 
 ing. As it would have required but a moderate share 
 of prudence, when we first began this practice of mort- 
 irnirinir, to have foretold, from the nature of men and of 
 ministers, that things would necessarily be carried to 
 the length we see ; so now, that they have at last hap- 
 pily reached it, it may not be diflicult to guess at the 
 consequences. It must, indeed, be one of these two 
 events ; either the nation must destroy public credit, or 
 public credit will destroy the nation. It is impossible 
 
 5 In times of peace and security, when alone it is possible to pay 
 «k'l)t, the moni-yed interest arc averse to receive partiiil ));iyinents, wliieh 
 they know nol liovv to dispose of to advantage; and the landed interest 
 arc averse to continue the taxes requisite for that purpose. Why there- 
 fore sJiould a minister persevere in a tneasure so disagreeable to all par- 
 lies? Tor the sal^e, I suj)])Ose, of a pf>sterity which he will never see, or 
 of a few rca.^onal)le reflecting jK'oijle, whose united interest perhaps will 
 not l)e able to secure him the smallest borough in England. It is not 
 likely we shall ever find any minister str had a jjolitician. With regard 
 to these narrow destructive maxims of politics, all ministers are expert 
 enough. — Kditio.vs F, G, H, N. 
 
 I
 
 OF PUiJLlC CREDIT. 405 
 
 tliat they can both subsist, after the manner they have 
 been hitherto managed, in this, as well as in some other 
 countries. 
 
 There was, indeed, a scheme for the payment of our 
 debts, which was proposed by an excellent citizen. Mr 
 Hutchinson, above thirty years ago, and which was 
 much approved of by some men of sense, but never was 
 likely to take effect. He asserted that there was a fal- 
 lacy in imagining that the public owed this debt ; for 
 that really every individual owed a proportional share 
 of it, and paid, in his taxes, a proportional share of the 
 interest, beside the expense 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 dis- 
 charge at once all our funds and public mortgages ? He 
 seems not to have considered that the laborious poor 
 pay a considerable part of the taxes by their annual 
 consumptions, though they could not advance, at once, 
 a proportional part of the sum required. Not to men- 
 tion, that property in money and stock in trade might 
 easily be concealed or disguised ; and that visible pro- 
 perty 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 impro- 
 bable, that when the nation becomes heartily sick of 
 their debts, and is cruelly oppressed by them, some 
 daring projector may arise with visionary schemes for 
 their discharge. And as public credit will begin, by 
 that time, to be a little frail, the least touch will destroy 
 it, as happened in France during the regency; and in 
 this manner it will die of the doctor. ^' 
 
 5 1 ' 
 
 Some neighbouring states practise an easy expedient, by v..hich
 
 406 ESSAY IX. 
 
 But it is more probable, that the breach of national 
 faith will be the necessary effect of wars, defeats, mis- 
 fortunes, and public calamities, or even perhaps of vic- 
 tories and conquests. I nuist confess, when I see princes 
 and states fiohting and qnarrelling, amidst their debts, 
 funds, and jniblic 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 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 subscrib- 
 ed 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 threat- 
 ened Avith an invasion ; a rebellion is suspected or brok- 
 en out at home ; a squadron cannot be equipped for 
 want of pay, victuals, or repairs; or even a foreign sub- 
 sidy camiot be advanced. What must a prince or mi- 
 nister do in such an emergence? The right of self-pre- 
 servation is unalienable in every individual, much more 
 in every community. And the folly of our statesmen 
 
 they lighten their j)iihlic debts. The Frencli have a custom (as the 
 Romans formerly had) of augmenting their money; and this the nation 
 has been so much familiarized to, that it hurts not public credit, though 
 it l)e really cutting off at once, l)y an e<lict, so much of their debts. 
 The Dutch diminish tlie interest without the consent of tlieir creditors, 
 or, which is the same tiling, they arbitrarily tax the funds, as well as 
 other property. Could wc practise either of these methods, we need 
 never be oppressed by the national debt; and it is not impossible but 
 one of these, or some other metiiodj may, at all adventures, be tried on 
 the augmentation of our encumbrances and difiiculties. But people in 
 this country are so good reasoners ujion whatever regards their interests, 
 that such a practice will deceive nobody ; and ])ublic credit will pro- 
 bably tremble at once, by so dangerous a trial. ' — Editions F, G, H, N.
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 407 
 
 must tlien be greater than the folly of those who first 
 contracted debt; or what is more, than that of those 
 who trusted, or continue to trust this security, if these 
 statesmen have the means of safety in their hands, and 
 do not employ them. The funds, created and mort- 
 gaged, will by that time bring in a large yearly revenue, 
 sufficient for the defence and security of the nation : 
 Money is perhaps lying in the exchequer, ready for the 
 discharge of the quarterly interest : necessity calls, fear 
 urges, reason exhorts, compassion alone exclaims : The 
 money will immediately be seized for the current ser- 
 vice, imder the most solemn protestations, perhaps of 
 being immediately replaced. But no more is requisite. 
 The whole fabric, already tottering, falls to the ground, 
 and buries thousands in its ruins. And this, I think, 
 may be called the natural death of public credit; for to 
 this period it tends as naturally as an animal body to 
 its dissolution and destruction. 
 
 So great dupes are the generality of mankind, that 
 notwithstanding such a violent shock to public credit, 
 as a voluntary bankruptcy in England would occasion, 
 it would not probably be long ere credit would again 
 revive in as flourishing a condition as before. The pre- 
 sent 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 foresee, with whatever certainty; 
 yet promises, protestations, fair appearances, with the 
 allurements of present interest, have such powerful in- 
 fluence as few are able to resist. Mankind are, in all 
 ages, caught by the same baits : The same tricks play- 
 ed over and over agam, still trepan them. The heights
 
 408 ESSAY IX. 
 
 of popularity and patriotism are still the beaten road to 
 power and tyranny; flattery, to treachery; standing ar- 
 mies to arbitrary government; and the glory of God to 
 the 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, tlian at present ; as 
 much as an opulent knave, even though one could not 
 force him to pay, is a preferable debtor to an honest 
 bankrupt : For the former, in order to carry on busi- 
 ness, may find it his interest to discharge his debts, 
 where they are not exorbitant : The latter has it not in 
 his power. The reasoning of Tacitus, ^ as it is eternal- 
 ly true, is very applicable to our present case. Scd vul- 
 giis ad magnitudincm hcneficiorum aderat : Stidtissimus 
 quisqiie j^eainiis mercahatur • Ajmd sajnentes cassa habe- 
 bantur, qu(C ncque dari ncque accipi, salva r'ejmhlica, po- 
 ierant. The public is a debtor, whom no man can o- 
 blige to pay. The only check which the creditors have- 
 upon her, is the interest of preserving credit; an inter- 
 est which may easily be overbalanced by a great debt, 
 and by a dillicult and extraordinary emergence, even 
 supposing that credit irrecoverable. Not to mention, 
 that a present necessity often forces states into mea- 
 sures, which are, strictly speaking, against their in- 
 terest. 
 
 These two events supposed above, are calamitous, 
 but not the most calamilous. Thousands are thereby 
 sacrificed to the safety of millions. But we are not 
 without danger, that the contrary event may take place, 
 and that millions may be sacrificed for ever to the tem- 
 
 '■• Jlist. lib. iiL
 
 OF PUBLIC CREDIT. 409 
 
 porary safety of thousands. ^ Our popular frovernnient, 
 perhaps, will render it difficult or dangerous for a mi- 
 nister to venture on so desperate an expedient as that 
 of a voluntary bankruptcy. And though the House of 
 Lords be altogether composed of proprietors of land, 
 and the House of Commons chiefly ; and consequently 
 neither of them can be supposed to have great proper- 
 ty in the funds : Yet the connexions of the members 
 may be so great with the proprietors, as to render them 
 more tenacious of public faith than prudence, policy, or 
 even justice, strictly speaking, requires. And perhaps, 
 too, our foreign enemies may be so politic as to dis- 
 cover, that our safety lies in despair, and may not there- 
 fore show the danger, open and barefaced, till it be in- 
 evitable. The balance of power in Europe, our grand- 
 fathers, our fathers, and we, have all deemed too une- 
 qual to be preserved without our attention and assist- 
 ance. But our children, weary of the struggle, and 
 fettered with incumbrances, may sit down secure, and 
 see their neighbours oppressed and conquered ; till, at 
 last, they themselves and their creditors lie both at the 
 mercy of tlie conqueror. And this may properly enough 
 be denominated the violent death of our public credit. 
 
 '' I liave heard it has been computed, that all the creditors of the pub- 
 lic, natives and foreigners, amount only to 17,000. These make a 
 figure at present on their income ; but, in case of a public bankriii)tcy, 
 vould, in an instant, become the lowest, as well as the most wretched 
 of the people. The dignity and authority of the landed gentry and no- 
 bility is much butter rooted, and would render the contention very un- 
 equal, if ever we come to that extremity. One would incline to as- 
 sign to this event a very near period, such as half a century, had 
 not our fathers' prophecies of this kind been already found fallacious, by 
 the duration of our public credit so much beyond all reasonable expec- 
 tation. When the astrologers in France were every year foretelling the 
 death of Henry IV., ' These fellows, ' says he, ' nuist be right at last. ' 
 We shall, therefore, be more cautious than to assign any precise date ; 
 and shall content ourselves with pointing out the event in general.
 
 410 ESSAY IX. 
 
 These seem to be t])e events, which are not very re- 
 mote, and which reason foresees as clearly almost as she 
 can tlo any thing that lies in the womb of time. And 
 thouirh the ancients maintained, that in order to reach 
 the gift of prophecy, a certain divine fury or matlncss 
 was requisite, one may safely affirm, that in order to 
 deliver such proj^hecies as these, no more is necessary 
 than merely to be in one's senses, free from the influ- 
 ence of popular madness and delusion.
 
 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 411 
 
 ESSAY X. 
 
 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUST03IS. 
 
 I SHALL observe three remarkable customs in three 
 celebrated governments ; and shall conclude from the 
 whole, that all general maxims in politics ought to be 
 established with great caution ; and that irregular and 
 extraordinary appearances are frequently discovered in 
 the moral, as well as in the physical world. The for- 
 mer, perhaps, we can better account for after they hap- 
 pen, 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 im- 
 possible for human prudence, beforehand, to foresee 
 and foretell them. 
 
 I. One would think it essential to every supreme 
 council or assembly which debates, that entire liberty of 
 speech should be granted to every member, and that 
 all motions or reasoninijs should be received, which can 
 any way tend to illustrate the point under deliberation. 
 One would conclude, with still greater assurance, that 
 after a motion was made, which was voted and approv- 
 ed by that assembly in which the legislative power is 
 lodged, the member who made the motion must for ever
 
 412 ESSAY X. 
 
 be exempted from future trial or inquiry. But no po- 
 litical maxim can, at first sight, appear more indisput- 
 able, than that he must, at least, be secured from all 
 inferior jurisdiction; and that nothing less than the 
 same supreme legislative assembly in their subsequent 
 meetings, could make him accountable for those mo- 
 tions and harangues, to which they had before given 
 their approbation. But these axioms, however irrefra- 
 gable they may appear, have all failed in the Athenian 
 government, from causes and principles too, which ap- 
 pear almost inevitable. 
 
 By the y^aipyi zrx^ccvofca*, or 2)idictmcnt 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 Demosthenes, finding that ship- 
 money was levied irregularly, and that the poor bore 
 the same burden as the rich in equipping the galleys, 
 corrected this inequality by a very useful law, which 
 proportioned the expense to the revenue -and income of 
 each individual. He moved for this law in the assem- 
 bly ; he proved its advantages ; ^ he convinced the peo- 
 ple, the only legislature in Athens ; the law passed, and 
 was carried into execution : Yet waJ> he tried in a cri- 
 minal court for that law, upon the complaint of the rich, 
 who resented the alteration that he had introduced 
 into the finances. '' 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 Demosthen- 
 
 ^ His haran^rxK- for it is still extant: rif^i 2i/^^opi«f. 
 ^ I'ro Cttsiplionte.
 
 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 413 
 
 es, as on a citizen affectionate and useful to the com- 
 monwealth : The people, convinced of this truth, voted 
 those honours : Yet was Ctesiphon tried by the y§«?'>) 
 ■zs-oi^dvofiuy. It was asscrtcd, 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 Chaeronea, a law was passed upon 
 the motion of Hyperides, giving liberty to slaves, and 
 enrolling them in the troops. ' On account of this 
 law, the orator was afterwards tried by the indictment 
 above mentioned, and defended himself, among other 
 topics, by that stroke celebrated by Plutarch and Lon- 
 ginus. li rvas not I, said he, ihat moved for this lax^o : 
 It xsjOS the necessities of "d^ar ; it xvas the battle of Chce- 
 ronea. The orations of Demosthenes abound with 
 many instances of trials of this nature, and prove clear- 
 ly, that nothing was more commonly practised. 
 
 The Athenian Democracy was such a tumultuous 
 government as we can scarcely form a notion of in the 
 present age of the world. The whole collective body 
 of the people voted in every law, without any limitation 
 of property, without any distinction of rank, without 
 control from any magistracy or senate ; ^ and conse- 
 quently without regard to order, justice, or prudence. 
 The Athenians soon became sensible of the mischiefs 
 
 ' Plutarcluis in vita Decern Oratorum. Demosthenes gives a difle- 
 rent account of this law. Contra Aristogiton, orat. II. He says, that 
 its purport was, to render the aT/^o; i'rjr/^aoi, or to restore the privilege 
 of bearing offices to those who had been declared incapable. Perhaps 
 these were both clauses of the same law. 
 
 ^ The senate of the Bean was only a less numerous mob, chosen bjr 
 lot from 9mong the people, and their authority was not great.
 
 414 ESSAY X. 
 
 attendiiifT this constitution : But being averse to check- 
 ing themselves by any I'ule or restriction, they resolv- 
 ed, at least, to check tlieir demagogues or counsellors, 
 by the fear of future punishment and inquiry. They 
 accordingly instituted this remarkable law, a law esteem- 
 ed so essential to their form of government, that -/Eschi- 
 nes insists on it as a known truth, that, were it abolish- 
 ed or neglected, it were impossible for the Democracy 
 to subsibt. ' 
 
 The people feared not any ill consequence to liberty 
 from the authority of the criminal courts, because these 
 were nothing but very numerous juries, chosen by lot 
 from among the people. And they justly considered 
 themselves as in a state of perpetual pu})ilage, where 
 they had an authority, after they came to the use of 
 reason, not only to retract and control whatever had 
 been determined, but to punish any guardian for mea- 
 sures which they had embraced by his persuasion. 
 The same law had place in Thebes, "" and for the same 
 reason. 
 
 It appears to have been a usual practice in Athens, 
 on the establishment of any law esteemed very useful 
 or popular, to prohibit for ever its abrogation and re- 
 peal. 
 
 Thus the demagogue, who diverted all the public 
 revenues to the support of shows and spectacles, made 
 it criminal so much as to move for a repeal of this 
 law, " Thus Leptines moved for a law, not only to 
 
 ' In Ctesipliontem. It is remarkable, tliat the first step after the dis- 
 solution of the Democracy by Critias and the thirty, was to annul the 
 yfufn vrapoctof/iav, as we learn from Demosthenes xarx Ttfiox,. The ora^ 
 tor, in this oration, gives us the words of tlie law, estal)lisliing the yparpn 
 tfapayo/j.uv, page 207, ex edit. Aldi. And lie accouiils for it from th(j 
 same principles wc here reason upon. 
 
 •" Plut in vita Pelop. " Deraost. Olynth. 1, 2.
 
 GT SOME HEMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 4.15 
 
 recal all the immunities formerly granted, but to de- 
 prive the people for the future of the power of grant- 
 ing any more, " Thus all bills of attainder '' were for- 
 bid, or laws that affected one Athenian, without ex- 
 tending to the whole commonwealth. These absurd 
 clauses, by which the legislature vainly attempted to 
 bind itself for ever, proceeded from an universal sense 
 in the people of their own levity and inconstancy. 
 
 II. A wheel within a wheel, such as we observe in 
 the German empire, is considered by Lord Shaftes- 
 bury "^ as an absurdity in politics : But what must we 
 say to two equal wheels, which govern the same political 
 machine, without any mutual check, control, or subor- 
 dination, and yet preserve the greatest harmony and 
 concord ? To establish two distinct legislatures, each 
 of which possesses full and absolute 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, emulation, 
 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 shoidd affirm, that this 
 disjointed, irregular government, was the most active, 
 triumphant, and illustrious commonwealth that ever 
 yet appeared ; I should certainly be told, that such a 
 political chimera was as absurd as any vision of priests 
 
 " Demost. contra Lept. p Demost. contra Aristocratcm, 
 
 " Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour, Part 3. § 2.
 
 4 16 ESSAY X. 
 
 or poets. But there is no need for searchinjr long, in 
 order to jirove the realit}^ of the foregoinp; supposi- 
 tions : For this was actually the case with the Roman 
 republic. 
 
 The legislative power M-as there lodged in the comi- 
 tia cent ur lata and cumitia trihula. 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 com- 
 monwealth, it determined the whole; and, with the 
 authority of the senate, established a law. In the lat- 
 ter, every vote was equal ; and as the authority of the 
 senate was not there requisite, the lower people entire- 
 ly 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 peo- 
 ple, the interest of the aristocracy was predominant in 
 the first legislature, that of the democracy in the se- 
 cond : The one could always destroy what the other 
 had established : Nay, the one by a sudden and un- 
 foreseen motion, might take the start of the other, and 
 totally annihilate its rival by a vote, which, from the 
 nature of the constitution, had the full authority of a 
 law. Put 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. AMience arose this concord, which 
 may seem so extraordinary ? 
 
 The legislature established in Rome, by the autho- 
 rity of Servius Tullius, was the comitia ccnturiata, 
 which, alter the expulsion of the kings, rendered the 
 government for some time very aristocratical. Put the 
 people, having numbers and force on their side, and 
 being elated with frequentcontjuests and victories in
 
 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 417 
 
 their foreign wars, always prevailed when pushed to 
 extremity, and first extorted from the senate the ma- 
 gistracy of the tribmies, and next the legislative power 
 of the comitia tributa. It then behoved the nobles to 
 be more careful than ever not to provoke the people. 
 For beside the force which the latter were always pos- 
 sessed of, they had now got possession of legal autho- 
 rity, and could instantly break in pieces any order or 
 institution which directly opposed them. By intrigue, 
 by influence, by money, by combination, and by the 
 respect paid to their character, the nobles might often 
 prevail, and direct the whole machine of government : 
 But had they openly set their comitia cciituriata in op- 
 position to the tributa^ they had soon lost the advan- 
 tage of that institution, together with their consuls, 
 praetors, ediles, and all the magistrates elected by it. 
 But the comitia tribnta, not having the same reason 
 for respecting the centtiriata, frequently repealed laws 
 favourable to the aristocracy : They limited the autho- 
 rity of the nobles, protected the people from oppres- 
 sion, and controlled the actions of the senate and ma- 
 gistracy. The ceyiiiiriata found it convenient always 
 to submit ; and though equal in authority, yet bemg 
 inferior in power, durst never directly give any shock 
 to the other legislature, either by repealing its laws, 
 or establishing laws which it foi'esaw would soon be 
 repealed by it. 
 
 No instance is found of any opposition or struggle 
 between these comitia, except one slight attempt of 
 this kind, mentioned by Appian in the third book of 
 his Civil Wars. Mark Anthony, resolving to deprive 
 Decimus Brutus of the government of Cisalpine Gaul, 
 railed in the Fo7'iim, and called one of the comitia, in 
 order to prevent the meeting of the other, which IukI 
 
 VOL. III. D D
 
 418 ESSAY X. 
 
 been ordered by the senate. But affairs were then 
 fallen into sucli confusion, and the Roman constitution 
 was so near its final dissolution, that no inference can 
 be drawn from such an expedient. This contest, be- 
 sides, was founded more on form than party. It was 
 the senate wlio ordered the comitia tributa^ that they 
 mi^ht obstruct the meetinf^ of the ccnUiriata^ which, 
 by the constitution, or at least forms of the govern- 
 ment, could alone dispose of provinces. 
 
 Cicero was recalled by the comitia ccnturiata^ though 
 banished by the trihuta^ tliat is, by a, jjlebisciliim. But 
 his banislnnent, we may observe, never was considered 
 as a legal deed, arising from the free choice and incli- 
 nation of the people. It was always ascribed to the 
 violence alone of Clodius, and to the disorders intro- 
 duced by him into the government. 
 
 III. Tlie third custom which we purpose to remark 
 regards England, and, though it be not so important as 
 those which we have pointed out in Athens and Rome, 
 is no less singular and unexpected. It is a maxim in 
 politics, which we readily admit as undisputed and 
 universal, that a power, however great, when granted 
 ])y law to an eminent magistrate, is not so dangerous 
 to liberty as an authority, however inconsiderable, 
 which he acquires from violence and usurpation. For 
 besides that the law always limits every power which 
 it i)estows, the very receiving it as a concession esta- 
 blishes the authority whence it is derived, and pre- 
 serves the harmony of the constitution. By the same 
 right tliat one prerogative is assumed without law, an- 
 other may also be claimed, and another, with still 
 greater facility ; while the first usurpations both serve 
 as precedents to the following, and give force to main- 
 tain them. Hence the heroism of Hampden's con-
 
 OF SOME REMARKABLE CUSTOMS. 419 
 
 duct, who sustained the whole violence of royal pro- 
 secution, rather than pay a tax of twenty shillinos 
 not imposed by Parliament; hence the care of all 
 English patriots to guard against the first encroach- 
 ments of the crown; and hence alone the existence, at 
 this day, of English liberty. 
 
 There is, however, one occasion where the Parlia- 
 ment has departed from this maxim ; and that is, in 
 the prcssi7ig of seamen. The exercise of an irregu- 
 lar power is here tacitly permitted in the crown ; and 
 though it has freciuently been under deliberation how 
 that power might be rendered legal, and granted, un- 
 der proper restrictions, to the sovereign, no safe expe- 
 dient could ever be proposed for that purpose ; and 
 the danger to liberty always appeared greater from 
 law than from usurpation. When this power is exer- 
 cised to no other end than to man the navy, men wil- 
 lingly submit to it from a sense of its use and neces- 
 sity ; and the sailors, who are alone affected by it, find 
 nobody to support them in claiming the rights and 
 privileges which the law grants, without distinction, to 
 all English subjects. But were this power, on any oc- 
 casion, made an instrument of faction or ministei'ial 
 tyranny, the opposite faction, and indeed all lovers of 
 their country, would immediately take the alarm, and 
 support the injured party; the liberty of Englishmen 
 would be asserted ; juries would be implacable ; and 
 the tools of tyranny, acting both against law and equi- 
 ty, would meet with the severest vengeance. On the 
 other hand, were the Parliament to grant such an au- 
 thority, 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 thty 
 
 D D 2
 
 420 
 
 ESSAY X. 
 
 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 jiractice at present prevents its abuses, by ailbrding 
 so easy a remedy against them. 
 
 I pretend not, by this reasoning, to exclude all pos- 
 sibility of contriving a register for seamen, which 
 might man the navy without being dangerous to liber-* 
 ty. I only observe, that no satisfactory scheme of that 
 nature has yet been proposed. Rather than adopt 
 any project hitherto invented, we continue a practice 
 seemingly the most absurd and unaccountable. Au- 
 thority, in times of full internal peace and concord, is 
 armed against law. A continued violence is permitted 
 in the crown, amidst the greatest jealousy and watch- 
 fulness in the people ; nay, proceeding from those 
 very principles. Liberty, in a country of the highest 
 liberty, is left entirely to its own defence, without any 
 countenance or protection. The wild state of nature 
 is renewed in one of the most civilized societies of 
 mankind, and great violence and disorder are com- 
 mitted with impunity; while the one party pleads obe- 
 dience to the supreme magistrate, the other the sanc- 
 tion of fundamental laws.
 
 THE rOPULOUSNIvSS Of ANCIENT NATIONS. 421 
 
 ESSAY Xh 
 
 OF THE POrULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. " 
 
 There is very little ground, either from reason or 
 observation, to conclude the world eternal or iiicor- 
 
 5 2 < An eminent clergyman in Edinburgh, having wrote, some years 
 ago, a discourse on the same question with this, of the populousness of 
 ancient nations, was pleased lately to communicate it to the author. It 
 maintained the opposite side of the argument, to what is here insisted 
 on, and contained much erudition and good reasoning. The author ac- 
 knowledges to have borrowed, with some variations from that discourse' 
 two computations, that with regard to the number of inhabitants in Bel- 
 gium, and that with regard to those in Ejnrus. If this learned gentle- 
 man be prevailed on to publish his dissertation, it will serve to give 
 great light into the present question, the most curious and important of 
 all questions of erudition. ' 
 
 In Editions H, N, this note is changed as follows. — ' An ingenious 
 writer has honoured this discourse with an answer, full of politeness, 
 erudition and good sense. So learned a refutation would have made 
 the author suspect that his reasonings were entirely overthrown, had he 
 not used the precaution, from the beginning, to keep himself on the 
 sceptical side ; and having taken this advantage of the ground, he was 
 enabled, though with much inferior forces, to preserve himself from a 
 total defeat. That Reverend gentleman will always find, where his an- 
 tagonist is so entrenched, that it will be difficult to force him. Varro, 
 Lii such a situation, could defend himself against Hannibal, Pharnaces 
 against- CcEsar. The author, however, very willingly acknowledges, that
 
 422 ESSAY XT. 
 
 niptlble. The continual and rapid motion of matter, 
 the violent revolutions with which every part is agi- 
 tated, the chancres remarked in the heavens, the plain 
 traces as well as tradition of an imiversal deluge, or 
 general convulsion of the elements ; all these prove 
 strongly the mortality of this fabric of the world, and 
 its passage, by corruption or dissolution, from one 
 state or order to another. It must therefore, as well 
 as each individual form wliich it contains, have its in- 
 fancy, youth, manhood, and old age ; and it is pro- 
 bable, 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 spi- 
 rits, 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 revo- 
 lutions, they are too slow to be discernible in that short 
 period which is comprehended by history and tradi- 
 tion. Stature and force of body, length of life, even 
 courage and extent of genius, seem hitlierto to have 
 been naturally, in all ages, pretty much the same. The 
 arts and sciences, indeed, have flourished in one pe- 
 riod, and have decayed in another; but we may ob- 
 serve, that at the time when they rose to greatest per- 
 fection among one people, tliey were perhaps totally 
 unknown to all the neiohbourino; nations : and though 
 they universally decayed in one age, yet in a succeed- 
 
 his antagonist has detected many mistakes both in his authorities and 
 reasonings: and it was owing entirely to that gentleman's indulgence, 
 that many more errors were not remarked. In this edition, advantage 
 has been taken of his learned animadversions, and the Essay has been 
 rendered less imperfect than formerly. ' — Note in Editions F, G.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 423 
 
 ing 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 universe, like an animal body, had a natural pro- 
 gress from infancy to old age, yet as it must still be 
 uncertain, whether, at present, it be advancing to its 
 point of perfection, or declining from it, we cannot 
 thence presuppose any decay in human nature. ' To 
 prove, therefore, or account for that superior popu- 
 lousness of antiquity, which is commonly supposed, by 
 the imaginary youth or vigour of the world, will scarce- 
 ly be admitted by any just reasoner. These general 
 ■physical causes ought entirely to be excluded from this 
 question. 
 
 There are indeed some more j)articular pJiijsical axwse^ 
 of importance. Diseases are mentioned in antiquity, 
 which are almost unknown to modern medicine ; and 
 new diseases have arisen and propagated themselves, of 
 which there are no traces in ancient history. In this 
 particular we may observe, upon comparison, that the 
 disadvantage is much on the side of the moderns. Not 
 to mention some others of less moment, the small-pox 
 commits such ravages, as would almost alone account 
 for the great superiority ascribed to ancient times. The 
 tenth or the twelfth part of mankind destroyed, every 
 
 ^ Columella says, lib. iii. cap. 8., that in Egypt and Africa the bear- 
 ing of tvvins was frequent, and even customary; gemini par/as fami- 
 liares, ac patie sulcnncs sunt. If this was true, there is a physical diffe- 
 rence both in countries and ages. For travellers make no such remarks 
 on these countries at present. On the contrary, we are apt to suppose 
 the northern nations more prolific. As those t^^o countries were pro- 
 vinces of the Roman empire, it is difficult, though not altogether ab- 
 surd, to suppose that such a man as Columella might be mistaken with 
 regard to them.
 
 424. ESSAY XI. 
 
 generation, should make a vast difference, it may bc 
 thought, in the luniibers of tlic people ; and when 
 joined to venereal distempers, a new })lngue diffused 
 every where, this disease is perhaps equivalent, by its 
 constant operation, to the three great scourges of" man- 
 kind, war, pestilence, and famine. Were it certain, 
 thereibre, that ancient times were more populous than 
 the present, and could no moral causes be assigned for 
 so great a change, these physical causes alone, in the 
 opinion of many, would be sufficient to give us satis- 
 faction on that head. 
 
 But is it certain that antiquity was so much more 
 populous, as is pretended ? The extravagances of Vos- 
 sius, with regard to this subject, are well known. But 
 an author of much greater genius and discernment has 
 ventured to ailirm, that according to the best compu- 
 tations 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 Cossar. ' 
 It may easily be observed, that the comparison in this 
 case must be imperfect, even though we confine our- 
 selves to the scene of ancient history ; Europe, and the 
 nations round the Mediterranean. We know not ex-- 
 actly 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 ap- 
 pears to me so uncertain, that, as I intend to throw 
 toirether some reflections on that head, I shall inter- 
 mingle the inquiry concerning causes with that con- 
 cerningyac/5 ; which ought never to be admitted, where 
 
 * LtUrcs I'tTsancb. Sec also L'Espiit dc Loix, lib. xiiii, cap. 17, 
 
 \b, 19.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 4S3 
 
 the facts can be ascertained with any tolerable assur- 
 ance. We sha\\,^rst, consider whether it be probable, 
 from what we know of the situation of society in both 
 periods, that antiquity must have been more populous; 
 scconcUij, 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 
 regard to the comparative populousness of ages or 
 kingdoms, implies important consequences, and com- 
 monly determines concerning the preference of their 
 whole police, their manners, and the constitution of 
 their government. For as there is in all men, both 
 male and female, a desire and power of generation, 
 more active than is ever universally exerted, the re- 
 straints which they lie under must proceed from some 
 difficulties in their situation, which it belongs to a wise 
 legislature carefully to observe and remove. Almost 
 every man, who thinks he can maintain a family, will 
 have one ; and the human species, at this rate of pro- 
 pagation, would more than double every generation. 
 How fast do mankind multiply in every colony or new 
 settlement, where it is an easy matter to provide for a 
 family, and where men are nowise straitened or con- 
 fined 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 genera- 
 tion or two, the destruction was not perceived, and the 
 society had again acquired their former number. Tlie 
 lands which were cultivated, the houses built, the com- 
 modities raised, the riches acquired, enabled the peo- 
 ple, who escaped, immediately to marry and to rear fa- 
 inilies, which supplied the place of those who had pe-
 
 42G ESSAY xr. 
 
 rislied. ' And, for a like reason, every wise, just, and 
 mild {roveriuuent, bv renderin*; the condition of its 
 subjects easy and secure, will always abound most in 
 people, as well as in commodities and riclies. A coun- 
 try, indeed, whose climate and soil are fitted for vines, 
 will naturally be more populous than one which pro- 
 duces corn only, and that more populous than one 
 which is only fitted for pasturage. In general, warm 
 climates, as the necessities 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, wherever there are most 
 happiness and virtue, and the wisest institutions, there 
 will also be most people. 
 
 The question, therefore, concerning the populous- 
 ness of ancient and modern times, being allowed of 
 great imj)ortance, it will be requisite, if we would 
 bring it to some determination, to compare both the 
 domestic and ])olitical situation of these two periods, in 
 order to judge of the facts by their moral causes; which 
 is the Jirst view in which we proposed to consider 
 them. 
 
 Tlie chief difference between the domestic economy 
 of the ancients and that of the moderns, consists in 
 the practice of slavery, which prevailed among the for- 
 mer, and whicli has been abolished for some centuries 
 throughout the greater part of Europe. Some pas- 
 sionate admirers of the ancients, and zealous partisans 
 
 ' 'J'liis, too, is a good reason why the smaII-])ox does not (lcpoi)ulate 
 countries so inucii as may at first sight be imagined. Where tliere is 
 room for more people, they will always arise, even without the assistance 
 of naturalization bills, It is remarked by Don Geronimo De Ustariz, 
 that the provinces of .Sj)ain, wliicli send most ])eoi)le to the Indies, are 
 most j)opulous, whicli proceeds from their superior riches.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 427 
 
 of civil liberty, (for these sentiments, as they are both 
 of them in the main extremely just, are found to be 
 almost inseparable), cannot forbear regretting the loss 
 of this institution ; and whilst they brand all submis- 
 sion to the government of a single person with the harsh 
 denomination of slavery, they would gladly reduce the 
 greater part of mankind to real slavery and subjection. 
 But to one who considers coolly on the subject, it will 
 appear that human nature, in general, really enjoys 
 more liberty at present, in the most arbitrary govern- 
 ment 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 not 
 beyond a single city, is more grievous than obedience 
 to a great monarch ; so much is domestic slavery more 
 cruel and oppressive than any civil subjection whatso- 
 ever. The more the master is removed from us in 
 place and rank, the greater liberty w^e enjoy, the less 
 are our actions inspected and controlled, and the faint- 
 er that cruel comparison becomes between our own sub- 
 jection, and the freedom, and even dominion of ano- 
 ther. The remains which are found of domestic slav- 
 ery, in the American colonies, and among some Euro- 
 pean 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 do- 
 minion. Nor can a more probable reason be assigned 
 for the severe, I misht sav, barbarous manners of an- 
 cient timeS| than the practice of domestic slavery ; by 
 which every man of rank was rendered a petty tyrant, 
 and educated amidst the flattery, submission, and low- 
 debasement of his slaves.
 
 428 ESSAY XI. 
 
 According to ancient practice, all checks were on 
 tlie 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 servant; and the checks are mutual, 
 suitably to the inviolable and eternal laws of reason and 
 equity. 
 
 The custom of exposing old, useless, or sick slaves 
 in an island of the Tyber, there to starve, seems to 
 have been pretty common in Home ; and whoever re- 
 covered, after having been so exposed, had his liberty 
 given him by an edict of the Emperor Claudius ; in 
 which it was likewise forbidden to kill any slave merely 
 for old age or sickness. " But supposing that this edict 
 was strictly obeyed, would it better the domestic treat- 
 ment of slaves, or render their lives much more com- 
 fortable ? We may imagine what others would prac- 
 tise, 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. * 
 
 The crgaslula, or dungeons, where slaves in chains 
 were forced to work, were very common all over Italy. 
 Columella ^ advises, that they be always built under 
 ground ; and recommends ^ it as the duty of a careful 
 overseer, to call over every day the names of these 
 slaves, like the mustering of a regiment or ship's com- 
 pany, in order to know presently when any of them had 
 deserted; a proof of the I'recjuency of these crgastula, and 
 of the great number of slaves usually confined in them. 
 
 ^ Suetonius in vita Claudii. * Pluf. in vita Catonis. 
 
 " Lib. i. cap. 0. ''■ Lib. xi. cap. L
 
 rOPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 429 
 
 A chained slave for a porter was usual in Rome, as 
 appears from Ovid, ^ and other authors. " Had not 
 these people shaken oflF all sense of compassion to- 
 wards that unhappy part of their species, would they 
 have presented their friends, at the first entrance, with 
 such an image of the severity of the master and misery 
 of the slave? 
 
 Nothing so common in all trials, even of civil causes, 
 as to call for the evidence of slaves ; which was always 
 extorted by the most exquisite torments. Demosthenes 
 says, ' 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 
 ■mor6 certain evidence. "^ 
 
 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. A- 
 mong other circumstances, such as displacing the 
 meals and times of bathing, he mentions, that, regu- 
 larly 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 inquirj-, find 
 that he is then taking an account of the conduct of his 
 servants, and giving them due correction and disci- 
 pline. This is not remarked as an instance of cruelty, 
 but only of disorder, which, even in actions the most 
 
 ^ Amor. lib. i. eleg. 6. 
 
 •> Sueton. de Claris Rhetor. So also the ancient poet, janiloris tin- 
 iinnire impedimenta audio- 
 
 '^ In Oniterem Orat. 1. 
 
 "^ Tlie same practice was very common in Rome ; but Cicero seems 
 not to think this evidence so certain as the testimony of free citizens-. 
 Pro Ccelio,
 
 430 ESSAY XI. 
 
 usual aucl methodical, changes the fixed hours that an 
 established custom had assigned for them. ^ 
 
 But our present business is only to consider the in- 
 fluence of slavery on the pojndousness of a state. It 
 is pretended, that, in this particular, the ancient prac- 
 tice hail 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 of the female, who are then sup- 
 posed altogether incapacitated for their service. But 
 where the property of the servants is lodged in the 
 master, their marriage forms his riches, and brings him 
 a succession of slaves, that supply the place of those 
 whom age and infirmity have disabled. Pie encourages, 
 therefore, their propagation as much as that of his cat- 
 tle, rears the young with the same care, and educates 
 them to some art or calling, which may render them 
 more useful or valuable to him. The opulent are, 
 by this policy, interested in the being at least, though 
 not in the well-being, of the poor ; and enrich them- 
 
 • Epist. 122. The inhuman sports exhibited at Rome, may justly be 
 considered too as an effect of the peoi)Ie's contempt for slaves, and was 
 also a great cause of the general inhumanity of their princes and rulers. 
 Who can read the accounts of the amphitheatrical entertainments with- 
 out horror ? Or who is surprised, that the emperors should treat that 
 people in tlie same way the people treated their inferiors? One's hu- 
 manity is ajJt to renew the barbarous wish of Caligula, that the people 
 had but one neck : A man could almost be pleased, by a single blow, 
 to put an end to such a race of monsters. You may thank God, says 
 tlie autlior above cited (rjiist. 7.), addressing himself to the Roman peo- 
 ple, that you have a master (to wit, the mild and merciful Nero), wlio is 
 incapable of learning cruelty from your example. Tliis was spoke in 
 the beginning of his reign, but he fitted them very well afterwards, and, 
 no doubt, was considerably imjiroved l»y the sight of the barbarous ob- 
 jects to wliich he had, from hib infancy, been accustomed.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 431 
 
 selves by increasing the number and industry of those 
 who are subjected to them. Each man, being a sove- 
 reign in his own family, has the same interest with re- 
 gard to it as the prince with regard to the state, and 
 has not, like the prince, any opposite motives of ambi- 
 tion 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 mi- 
 nute detail of the marriage and education of his sub- 
 jects. ^ 
 
 Such are the consequences of domestic slavery, ac- 
 cording 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 determina- 
 tions. The comparison is shocking between the ma- 
 nagement of human creatures and that of cattle ; but 
 being extremely just, when applied to the present sub- 
 ject, it may be proper to trace the consequences of it. 
 At the capital, near all great cities, in all populous, 
 rich, industrious provinces, few cattle are bred. Pro- 
 visions, lodging, attendance, labour, are there dear ; 
 and men find their account better in buying the cattle, 
 after they come to a certain stage, from the remoter 
 and cheaper countries. These are consequently the 
 only breeding countries for cattle ; and, by a parity of 
 reason, for men too, when the latter are put on the 
 same footing with the former. To rear a child in 
 London till he could be serviceable, would cost much 
 
 ^ We may here observe, that if domestic slavery really increased po- 
 pulousness, it would be an exception to the general rule, that the happi- 
 ness 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 with them, more than any other action of their life.
 
 At^ 5ESSAY XI. 
 
 dearer tlian to bu}' one of the same age from Scotland 
 or Ireland, where he had been bred in a cottage, co- 
 vered with rags, and fed on oatmeal or potatoes. 
 Those who had slaves, therefore, in all the richer and 
 more popidous countries, would discourage the preg- 
 nancy of the females, and either prevent or destroy 
 the birth. The human species would perish in those 
 places where it ought to 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 ci- 
 ties ten times more destructive than with us ; where 
 every man is master of himself, and provides for. his 
 children from the powerful instinct of nature, not the 
 calculations of sordid 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 recjuire if the greater part of the trades- 
 men and common people were slaves, and were hin- 
 dered from breeding by their avaricious masters ? 
 
 All ancient authors tell us, that there was a perpe- 
 tual flux of slaves to Italy, from the remoter provinces, 
 particularly Syria, Cilicia, '^ Cappadocia, and the Les- 
 ser Asia, Thrace, and Kgypt : Yet the luunber of 
 people (litl not increase in Italy; and writers com- 
 plain of the continual decay of industry and agricul- 
 ture. " Where then is that extreme fertility of the 
 Roman slaves, which is commonly supposed ? So far 
 from nudtiplying, they could not, it seems, so much as 
 
 ' Ten tliousand slaves in a day have often been sold for the use of the 
 llomans, at Delus in Cilicia. Stral)o, lib. xiv. 
 
 •» Columella, lib. 1, j)rottiT), et cap. 2. et 7. Varro, lib. iii. cap. 1. 
 llorat. lib. ii. od. 1.3. Tacit. Aniial. lib. iii. cap. 51. Sueton. in vila 
 Aug. caji. xliL I'liii. lib. xviii. cap. 13.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS, 433 
 
 keep up the stock without immense recruits. And 
 tliough great numbers were continually manumitted 
 and converted into Roman citizens, the numbers even 
 of these did not increase, ' till the freedom of the city 
 was communicated to foreign provinces. 
 
 The term for a slave, born and bred in the family, 
 was ver-7ia ; ^ and these slaves seem to have been en- 
 titled by custom to privileges and indulgences beyond 
 others ; a sufficient reason why the masters would not 
 be fond of rearing many of that kind. ' Whoever is 
 
 ' Minora indies plebe ingenua, says Tacitus, Ann. lib. xxiv. cap. 7. 
 
 '^ As servus was the name of the genus, and verna of the species, with- 
 out any correlative, this forms a strong presumption, that the latter were 
 by far the least numerous. It is an universal observation which we may 
 form upon language, that where two related parts of a whole bear any 
 proportion to each other, in numbers, rank, or consideration, there are 
 always correlative terms invented, which answer to both the parts, and 
 express their mutual relation. If they bear no proportion to each other, 
 the term is only invented for the less, and marks its distinction from the 
 whole. Thus man and woman, master and servant, Jather and son, prince 
 and suljcct, stranger and citizen, are correlative terms. But the words 
 seaman, carpenter, smith, tailor, See. have no correspondent terms whicli 
 express those who are no seamen, no carpenters, &c. Languages differ 
 very much with regard to the particular words where this distinction ob- 
 tains ; and may thence afford very strong inferences concerning the man- 
 ners and customs of different nations. 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 still 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 in these alone. And from the same prin- 
 ciples I infer, that if the number of slaves bought by tlie Romans from 
 foreign countries had not extremely exceeded those which were bred at 
 home, verna would have had a correlative, which would have expressed 
 tlie 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. 
 
 ' Verna is used by Roman writers as a word equivalent to scnrra, on 
 account of the petulance and impudence of those slaves. Mart. lib. i. ep. 
 
 VOL. III. E E
 
 4S4 ESSAY XI. 
 
 acquainted with the maxims of our planters, will ac- 
 knowledge the justness of this observation. *" 
 
 Atticus is much praised by his historian for the care 
 which he took in recruiting his family from the slaves 
 born in it. " May we not thence infer, that this prac- 
 tice was not then very common ? 
 
 The names of slaves in the Greek comedies, Syrus, 
 Mysus, Geta, Tiirax, Davus, Lydus, Phryx, &c. 
 afford a presumption, that, at Athens at least, most of 
 the slaves were imported from foreign countries. The 
 Athenians, says Strabo, ° gave to their slaves either 
 the names of the nations whence they were bought, 
 as Lydus, Syrus, or tlie names that were most com- 
 mon among those nations, as Manes or Midas to a 
 Phrygian, Tibias to a Paphlagonian. 
 
 Demosthenes, having mentioned a law which forbad 
 any man to strike the slave of another, praises the hu- 
 manity of this law ; and adds, that if the barbarians, 
 
 42. Horace also mentions the verna procaces : and Petronius, cap. 24. 
 vemula urbanitas. Seneca, De Provid. cap. L vernularum licentia. 
 
 "* It is computed in tlie West Indies, that a stock of slaves grow worse 
 five per cent, every year, unless new slaves be bought to recruit them. 
 Tliey 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 
 tliis happen in European countries, and in or near great cities? I shall 
 add, that, from the experience of our planters, slavery is as little advan- 
 tageous to the master as to the slave, wherever hired servants can be pro- 
 cured. A man is obliged to clothe and feed his slave; and he does no- 
 more for his servant : Tlie price of the first purchase is, therefore, so 
 much loss to liim ; not to mention, that tlie fear of punisliment will never 
 draw so much labour from a slave, as the dread of being turned off, and 
 not getting another service, will from a freeman, 
 
 " Com. Neiios in vita Attici. We may remark, that Atticus's estate 
 lay chiefly in Kpirus, which being a remote, desolate place, would render 
 it profitable for him to rear slaves there. 
 
 " Lib. vii.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 435 
 
 from whom the slaves were bouglit, had information 
 that their countrymen met with such gentle treatment, 
 they would entertain a great esteem for the Athe- 
 nians. ■" Isocrates, " too, insinuates, that the slaves of 
 the Greeks were generally or very commonly barba- 
 rians. Aristotle in his politics ' plainly supposes, that 
 a slave is always a foreigner. The ancient comic 
 writers represented the slaves as speaking a barbarous 
 language. ' This was an imitation of nature. 
 
 It is well known that Demosthenes, in his nonage, 
 had been defrauded of a large fortune by his tutors, and 
 that afterwards he recovered, by a prosecution at law, 
 the value of his patrimony. His orations, on that oc- 
 casion, still remain, and contain an exact detail of the 
 whole substance left by his father, ' in money, merchan- 
 dise, houses, and slaves, together with the value of each 
 particular. Among the rest were 52 slaves, handi- 
 craftsmen, namely, 32 sword-cutlers, and 20 cabinet- 
 makers, " 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 de- 
 pended on that circumstance. No female slaves are 
 even so much as mentioned, except some housemaids, 
 who belonged to his mother. This argument has great 
 force, if it be not altogether conclusive. 
 
 Consider this passage of Plutarch, " speaking of the 
 
 P In Midiam, p. 221. ex edit. Aldi. 
 ■1 Panegyr. ' Lib. vii. cap. 10. sub. fin. 
 
 ' Aristoph. Equites, L. 17, The ancient scholiast remarks on this 
 passage BapCafi^tt ui JouXflf. 
 
 * In Amphobum, Orat, i. 
 
 " Kx(vccroio», makers of those beds which the ancients lay upon at meals. 
 
 * In vita Catonis. 
 
 E E 2
 
 436 ESSAY XI. 
 
 Elder Cato : * He had a great number of slaves, when? 
 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 in- 
 structed in any business or labour, as men teach any 
 thing to young dogs or horses. — And esteeming love 
 the chief source of all disorders, he allowed the male 
 slaves to have a commerce with the female in his fami- 
 ly, ujion paying a certain sum for this privilege : But he 
 strictly prohibited all intrigues out of his family. ' Are 
 tliei'e any symptoms in this narration of that care which 
 is supposed in the ancients of the marriage and propa- 
 gation of their slaves ? If that was a common practice, 
 founded on general interest, it would surely have been 
 embraced by Cato, who was a great economist, and 
 lived in times when the ancient frugality and simplicity 
 of manners were still in credit and reputation. 
 
 It is expressly remarked by the writers of the Ro- 
 man law, that scarely any ever purchased slaves with a 
 view of breeding from them. 
 
 '' ' Non temerc ancillac ejus rei causa comparantur ut pariant. ' Di- 
 gest, lib. V. tit. 3. de hared. petit, lex 27. The following texts are to the 
 same ])urposc : ' Sjjadonem morbosum non esse, nequc vltiosum, vcrius 
 niilii vidftur; sed sanum esse, secuti ilium qui unum testiculum habet, 
 qui etiam generare potest. ' Digest, lib. ii. tit. 1. de ccdilitio edicto, lex 6. 
 § 2. ' Sin autem quis ita spado sit, ut tarn necessaria pars corporis 
 penitus absit, morbosus est- ' Id. lex. 7. Ilis impotence, it seems, was on- 
 ly regarded so far as liis health or life might be aflected by it. In other 
 respects, he was full as valuable. The same reasoning is employed with- 
 regard to female slaves. * Qua;ritur de ea muliere qua; semper mortuos 
 parit, an morbosa sit? et ait S;ibirais, si vulva; vitio hoc contingit, mor- 
 Ijosam esse. * Id. lex. 14. It had even been doubted, whether a woman 
 pregnant was morbid or vitiated ; and it is determined, that she is sound, 
 
 not on accouot of the value of her offspring, but because it is the natural 
 ])art or odicc f)f women to bear children. ' Si inulier prcgnans venerit, inter 
 omnes convenit sanam cam esse. Maximum cniin ac pra;cipuum munus. 
 fxminarum accij)cre ac tucri conceptum. Puerperamquoque sanaEivessei
 
 rOPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 43T 
 
 Our lackeys and house-maids, I own, do not serve 
 much to multiply their species : But the ancients, be- 
 sides those who attended on their person, had almost 
 all their labour performed, and even manufactures exe- 
 cuted by slaves, who lived, many of them, in their fa- 
 mily ; and some great men possessed to the number of 
 10,000. If there be any suspicion, therefore, that this 
 institution was unfavourable to propagation (and the 
 same reason, at least in part, holds with regard to an- 
 cient 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 with- 
 out exception were put to death. '^ Many other Roman 
 noblemen had families equally, or more numerous ; and 
 I believe every one will allow, that this would scarcely 
 be practicable, were we to suppose all the slaves mar- 
 ried, and the females to be breeders. ° 
 
 So early as the poet Hesiod, '' married slaves, whe- 
 ther male or female, were esteemed inconvenient. How 
 much more, where families had increased to such an 
 enormous size as in Rome, and where the ancient sim- 
 plicity of manners was banished from all ranks of peo^ 
 pie! 
 
 si modo nihil extrinsecus acccdit, quod corpus ejus in aliquam valetudinem 
 immitteret. De sterili Coelius distinguere Trebatium dicit, ut si natura 
 sterilis sit, sana sit ; si vitio corporis, contra. ' /(/. 
 
 ^ Tacit. Ann. lib. xiv. cap. 45. 
 
 ^ The slaves in tlie great houses had little rooms assigned them called 
 cellcE. 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 family slaves. 
 
 " Opera et Dies, lib. ii. 1. 24. also L 220.
 
 438 ESSAY XI. 
 
 Xenoplion in his Oecononiics, where he gives direc- 
 tions for the management of a farm, recommends a 
 strict care and attention of laying the male and the fe- 
 male 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 Ilelotes, who had houses apart, 
 and were more the slaves of the public than of indivi- 
 duals.' 
 
 The same author " tells us, that Nicias's overseer, by 
 agreement with his master, was obliged to pay him an 
 obolus a day for each slave, besides maintaining them 
 and keeping up the number. Had the ancient slaves 
 been all breeders, this last circumstance of the contract 
 had been superfluous. 
 
 The ancients talk so frequently of a fixed, stated por- 
 tion of provisions assigned to each slave, ' that we are 
 naturally led to conclude, that slaves lived almost all 
 single, and received that portion as a kind of board- 
 wages. 
 
 The practice, indeed, of marrying slaves, seems not 
 to have been very common, even among the country 
 labourers, where it is more naturally to be expected. 
 Cato, ' 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, and 
 13 male slaves; for an olive plantiition of 240 acres, 
 the overseer and his wife, and 1 1 male slaves ; and so 
 in proportion to a greater or less plantation or vine- 
 yard. 
 
 * Strabo, lib. viii. '' Dc Ilatione Rcdituuin, 
 
 * Stf Cafo Dc He RusUca, cap. 56. Donatus in Phorniion, 1. L f. 9. 
 Scnecae, Kpist. HO. 
 
 ' De He KusUc. cap. 10, II.
 
 rOPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 439 
 
 Varro, ^ quoting this passage of Cato, allows his 
 computation 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 propor- 
 tion. Had Cato's computation been erroneous in any 
 other respect, it had certainly been corrected by Varro, 
 who seems fond of discovering so trivial an error. 
 
 The same author, " as well as Columella, * recom- 
 mends it as requisite to give a wife to the overseer, in 
 order to attach him the more strongly to his master's 
 service. This was therefore a peculiar indulgence 
 granted to a slave, in whom so great confidence was 
 reposed. 
 
 In the same place, Varro mentions it as an useful 
 precaution, not to buy too many slaves from the same 
 nation, lest they beget factions and seditions in the fa- 
 mily ; a presumption, that in Italy the greater part 
 even of the country slaves (for he speaks of no other) 
 were bought from the remoter provinces. All the 
 world knows, that the family slaves in Rome, who were 
 instruments of show and luxury, were commonly im- 
 ported from the East. Hoc ]:)rqfecere, says Pliny, 
 speaking of the jealous care of masters, mcaicijnorum 
 lcgW7ies, et in domo tiirha externa ac servorum quuque 
 causa 7iomenclator adhihendus. ^ 
 
 It is indeed recommended by Varro ' to propagate 
 young shepherds in the family from the old ones. For 
 as grazing farms were commonly in remote and cheap 
 places, and each shepherd lived in a cottage apart, his 
 marriage and increase were not liable to the same in- 
 
 e Lib. i. cap. 18. " Lib. i. cap. 17. • Lib. i. cap. 18. 
 
 ^ Lib. xxxiii. cap. 1. So likewise Tacitus, Annal lib. xiv. cap. 44. 
 ^ Lib iL cap. 10.
 
 4 10 ESSAY XI. 
 
 convenience as in dearer places, and where many ser- 
 vants lived in the ftiniily, which was universally the 
 case in such of the Roman farms as produced wine or 
 corn. If we consider this exception with regard to 
 shepherds, and weigh the reasons of it, it will serve for 
 a strong confirmation of all our foregoing suspicions. *" 
 
 Columella, " I own, advises the master to give a re- 
 ward, and even liberty to a female slave, that had rear- 
 ed him above three children ; a proof that sometimes 
 the ancients propagated from their slaves, which in- 
 deed cannot be denied. Were it otherwise, the prac- 
 tice of slavery, being so common in antiquity, must 
 have been destructive to a degree which no expedient 
 could repair. All I pretend to infer from these rea- 
 sonings is, that slavery is in general disadvantageous 
 both to the happiness and populousness of mankind, 
 and that its place is much better supplied by the prac- 
 tice of hired servants. 
 
 The laws, or, as some writers call them, the sedi- 
 tions of the Gracchi, were occasioned by their observ- 
 ing the increase of slaves all over Ital}', and the dimi- 
 inition of free citizens. Appian " ascribes this increhse 
 to the propagation of the slaves : Plutarch '' to the pur- 
 chasing of barbarians, who were chained and imprison- 
 ed, /3«gS<*gix« ^i(rfiUTmcc. " It is to be presumed that both 
 causes concurred. 
 
 "* Pastoris duri est hie filius, ille bubulci. Juven. Sat. 1 1. 131. 
 
 " Lib. i. cap. a ° De Bell. Civ. lib. i. 
 
 f In Vita Tib. et C. Gracchi. 
 
 "^ To the same purjjose is that passage in the elder Seneca, ex contro- 
 vcrsia, 5. lib. v. ' Arata quondam populis rura, singiilorum ergastulo- 
 rum sunt; latiusrjiic nunc villici, quam olim reges, imperant. ' * At nun« 
 iwlem, ' says I'liny, ' vincti pedes, damnata; maiius, inscripti vultus ex- 
 irccnt. ' Lib. xviii. caji. 'i. So also Martial. 
 
 ' Et sonct innumera comijcde Thuscus agcjr. ' Lib. ix. cp. 231
 
 roPL'LOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 441 
 
 Sicily, says Florus, ' was full of crgasttda, and was 
 cultivated by labourers in chains. Eunus and Athenio 
 excited the servile war, by breaking up these mon- 
 strous prisons, and giving liberty to 60,000 slaves. 
 The younger Pompey augmented his army in Spain 
 by the same expedient. ' If the country labourers 
 throughout the Roman empire, were so generally in 
 this situation, and if it was difficult or impossible to 
 find separate lodgings for the families of the city ser- 
 vants, how unfavourable to propagation, as well as to 
 humanity, must the institution of domestic slavery be 
 esteemed ? 
 
 Constantinople, at present,' requires the same re- 
 cruits of slaves from all the provinces that Rome did 
 of old ; and these provinces are of consequence far 
 from being populous. 
 
 Egypt, according to Mons. Maillet, sends continual 
 colonies of black slaves to the other parts of the Turk- 
 ish empire, and receives annually an equal return of 
 white : The one brought. from the inland parts of Afri- 
 ca, the other from Mingrelia, Circassia, and Tartary. 
 
 Our modern convents are, no doubt, bad institu- 
 tions : 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 institu- 
 tions as nurseries of superstition, burdensome to the 
 public, and oppressive to the poor prisoners, male as 
 
 And Lucan. ' Turn longos jungerc fines 
 
 Agrorum, ct quondam duro sulcata Camilli 
 Vomere, et anti<iuos Curiorum passa ligones 
 Longa sub ignotis extcndere rura colonis. ' Lib. i. 1. IGS. 
 * Vincto fossore coluntur 
 
 Hesperiae segetes. * Lib. vii. 
 
 ' Lib. iii. cap. 19. ° Id. lib. iv. cap. 8,
 
 412 ESSAY XI. 
 
 well as female, yet may it be questioned whether they 
 be so destructive to the populousness of a state, as is 
 comuiouly imagined. Were the land which 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 
 dau<rhters into nunneries, is, that he mav not be over- 
 burdened with too numerous a family; but the ancients 
 had a method almost as innocent, and more effectual 
 to that purpose, to wit, exposing their children in early 
 infancy. This practice was very common, and is not 
 spoken of by any author of those times with the hor- 
 ror it deserves, or scarcely* even with disapprobation. 
 Plutarch, the humane good-natured Plutarch, " men- 
 tions it as a merit in Attains, king of Pergamus, that 
 he murdered, or, if you will, exposed all his own chil- 
 dren, in order to leave his crown to the son of his bro- 
 ther Eumenes; signalizing in this manner his grati- 
 tude and afl'ection 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. ^ 
 
 Shall we then allow these two circumstances to com- 
 pensate each other, to wit, monastic vows and the ex- 
 posing 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 connection of causes, the barbarous practice 
 
 • Tacitus blames it. De Morib. Germ. 
 
 " T)e Fratcrno Amorc. Seneca also approves of the exposing of sick- 
 ly infirm cliildren. Dc Ira, lib. i. cap. 15. 
 
 * Stxt. £jnp. lib. iii. cap. 5il.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 443 
 
 of the ancients might rather render those times more 
 populous. By removing the terrors of too numerous 
 a family, it would engage many people in marriage ; 
 and such is the force of natural affection, that very few, 
 in comparison, would have resolution enough, when it 
 came to the push, to carry into execution their former 
 intentions. 
 
 China, the only country where this practice of ex- 
 posing children prevails at present, is the most popu- 
 lous country we know of, and every man is married 
 before he is twenty. Such early marriages could scarce- 
 ly be general, had not men the prospect of so easy a 
 method of getting rid of their children. I own that y 
 Plutarch speaks of it as a very general maxim of the 
 poor to expose their children ; and as the rich were 
 then averse to marriage, on account of the courtship 
 they met with from those who expected legacies from 
 them, the public must have been in a bad situation be- 
 tween them. ^ 
 
 Of all sciences, there is none where first appear- 
 ances are more deceitful than in politics. Hospitals 
 for foundlings seem favourable to the increase of num- 
 
 y De Amore ProUs. 
 
 ^ The practice of leaving great sums of money to friends, though one 
 had near relations, was common in Geeece as well as Rome, as we may 
 gather from Lucian. This practice prevails much less in modern times ; 
 and Ben Johnson's Volpone 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 prevents not 
 quarrels from humour, but rather increases them j and occasions also 
 those from interest, which are much more dangerous and destructive. 
 See farther on this head. Part I. Essay XVIII. Perhaps, too, the un- 
 natural lusts of the ancients ought to be taken into consideration as of 
 some moment.
 
 444 ESSAY XI. 
 
 bers, and perhaps may be so, when kept under proper 
 restrictions. But wlien tliey open the door to every 
 one witliout distinction, they have probably a contrary 
 effect, and are pernicious to the state. It is comput- 
 ed, that every ninth child born at Paris is sent to the 
 liospital ; though it seems certain, according to the 
 common course of human affairs, that it is not a hun- 
 dredth child whose parents are altofrether incapacitat- 
 ed to rear and educate him. The great difference, for 
 liealth, industry, and morals, between an education in 
 an hospital and that in a private family, should induce 
 us not to make the entrance into the former too easy 
 and enfjaging. To kill one's own child is shockinij to 
 nature, and must therefore be somewhat unusual ; but 
 to turn over the care of him upon others, is very 
 tempting to the natural indolence of mankind. 
 
 Having considered the domestic life and manners of 
 the ancients, compared to those of the moderns, where, 
 in the main, we seem rather superior, so far as the 
 present question is concerned, we shall now examine 
 i\\(i poUlical customs 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 establablishment, 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
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 445 
 
 the propagation of mankind. For tlioiifrh 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. Enor- 
 mous cities are, besides, destructive to society, beget 
 vice and disorder of all kinds, starve the remoter pro- 
 vinces, 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 si- 
 tuation of mankind ! how favourable to industry and 
 agriculture, to marriage and propagation ! The proli- 
 fic virtue of men, were it to act in its full extent, with- 
 out that restraint which jwverty and necessity impose 
 on it, would double the number every generation : 
 And nothing surely can give it more liberty than such 
 small commonwealths, and such an equality of fortune 
 among the citizens. All small states naturally pro- 
 duce equality of fortune, because they afford no op- 
 portunities of great increase ; but small common- 
 wealths much more, by that division of power and au- 
 thority which is essential to them. 
 
 When Xenophon ^ returned after the famous expe- 
 dition with Cyrus, he hired himself and 6000 of the 
 Greeks into the service of Seuthes, a prince of Thrace; 
 and the articles of his agreement were, that each sol- 
 dier should receive a daric a month, each captain two 
 darics, and he himself, as general, four ; a regulation 
 of pay which would not a little surprise our modern 
 officers. 
 
 * De Exp. Cyr. lib. vii.
 
 446 ESSAY xr. 
 
 Demosthenes and iEscliines, with eii^ht more, were 
 sent ambassadors to Pliilip ot" Macedon, and their ap- 
 pointments for above fonr months were a thousand 
 tlrachmasy wliich is less than a drachma a day for each 
 ambassador. '' But a drachma a (Uiy, nay, sometimes 
 two, ' was the pay of a connnon foot soldier. 
 
 A centurion amonf^ the Romans had only double 
 pay to a jirivate man in Polybius's time ; <i and we ac- 
 C()rdin<rly find the gratuities after a triimiph regulated 
 by that proportion. " But Mark Anthony and the tri- 
 umvirate gave the centurions five times the reward of 
 the other ; ^ so nuich had the increase of the com- 
 monwealth increased the inequality among the citi- 
 zens. ^ 
 
 It must be owned, that the situation of affairs in mo- 
 dern times, with regard to civil liberty, as well as equality 
 of fortune, is not near so favourable either to the pro- 
 pagation or happiness of mankind. Europe is shared 
 out mostly into great monarchies ; and such parts of 
 it as are divided into small territories are commonly 
 governed by absolute princes, who ruin their people 
 by a mimicry of the greater monarchs, in the splendour 
 of their court, and number of their forces. Swisser- 
 land alone, and Holhuid, resemble the ancient repub- 
 lics ; and though the former is far from possessing any 
 advantage, either of soil, climate, or commerce, yet the 
 
 •' Dt-most. I)e I'alsa Leg. He calls it a considerable sum. 
 '^ Thucyd. lib. iii. "^ Lib. vi. cap. 37. 
 
 • Tit Liv. lib. xli. cap. 7. 13. et alibi jmssim. 
 f Appian. De Bell. Civ. lib. iv. 
 
 * C.-Lsar gave tlie centurions ten times tbe gratuity of the common 
 soldiers. De Hello Gallico, lib. viii. in the llhodian cartel, mention- 
 ed afterwards, no dibtinction in the ransom was made on account of 
 ranks in the army.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 447 
 
 numbers of people with which it abounds, notwith- 
 standing their enlisting themselves into every service 
 in Europe, prove sufficiently the advantages of their 
 political institutions. 
 
 The ancient republics derived their chief or only 
 security from the numbers of their citizens. The 
 Trachinians having lost great numbers of their peo- 
 ple, the remainder, instead of enriching themselves by 
 the inheritance of tlieir fellow-citizens, applied to Spar- 
 ta, their metropolis, for a new stock of inhabitants. 
 The Spartans immediately collected ten thousand 
 men, among whom the old citizens divided the lands 
 of which the former proprietors had perished." 
 
 After Timoleon had banished Dionysius from Syra- 
 cuse, and had settled the affairs of Sicily, finding the 
 cities of Syracuse and Sellinuntium extremely depopu- 
 lated by tyranny, war, and faction, he invited over 
 from Greece some new inhabitants to repeople them. ' 
 Immediately forty thousand men (Plutarch *^ says sixty 
 thousand) offered themselves ; and he distributed so 
 many lots of land among them, to the great satisfac- 
 tion of the ancient inhabitants ; a proof at once of the 
 maxims of ancient policy, which affected populousness 
 more than riches, and of the good effects of these ma- 
 xims, in the extreme populousness of that small coun- 
 try, Greece, which could at once supply so great 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 i acres. 
 
 •• Diod. Sic. lib. xii. Thucyd. lib. iii. ' Diod. Sic. lib. xvi. 
 
 ^ In vita Timol. 
 
 ' Plin. lib. xviii, cap. 3. The same author, in cap. 6, says, Vcnimque 
 
 fatenVibus latifundia perdidere Italiam ; jam vera ct ])rovincias. Sex domi 
 
 semissem Africa: jwssidebant, cum intcrfccit cos Nero princess. In this
 
 418 ESSAY xr. 
 
 Such ideas of equality could not fail of producing great 
 numbers of people. 
 
 We inust now consider what disadvantafjcs the an- 
 
 cients lay under with regard to populousness, and what 
 cliecks they received from their political maxims and 
 institutions. There are commonly compensations in 
 every human condition ; and though these compensa- 
 tions be not always perfectly e(jual, yet they serve, at 
 least, to restrahi the prevailing principle. To compare 
 them, and estimate their influence, is indeed diflicult, 
 even where they take place in the same age, and in 
 neiirhbourino: countries : But where several ajies have 
 intervened, and only scattered lights are afforded us 
 by ancient authors ; what can we do but amuse our- 
 selves by talking 7J/-6» and con on an interesting subject, 
 and thereby correcting all hasty and violent determi- 
 nations ? 
 
 lurs/f We may observe, that tlie ancient republics 
 were almost in perpetual war ; a natural effect of their 
 martial spirit, their love of liberty, their mutual emu- 
 lation, and that hatred which generally prevails among 
 nations that live in close neighbourhood. Now, war 
 in a small state is much more destructive than in a great 
 one ; both because all the inhabitants, in the former 
 case, must serve in the armies, and because the whole 
 state is frontier, and is all exposed to the inroads of 
 the enemy. 
 
 The maxims of ancient war were much more de- 
 
 vie-w, the barbarous butcliory committed by the first Roman emperors 
 was not, perhaps, so destructive to the puhhc as we may imagine. 
 These never ceased till they had extinguished all the illustrious families 
 which had enjoyed the ])liindi'r of the worlfi during the latter ages of" the 
 republic. 'J'lie new nobles who rose in their jilace were less splendid, as 
 wc learn from Tacitus. Ann. lib. iii. cap. 53.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 449 
 
 structive than those of modern, chiefly by that distri- 
 bution of phmder, in which the soldiers were indulg- 
 ed. The private men in our armies are such a low set 
 of people, that we find any abundance, beyond their 
 simple pay, breeds confusion and disorder among them, 
 and a total dissolution of discipline. The very wretch^ 
 edness and meanness of those who fill the modern 
 armies, render them less destructive to the countries 
 which they invade ; one instance, among many, of the 
 deceitfulness of first appearances in all political rea- 
 
 soninji-s. *" 
 
 Ancient battles were much more bloody, by the very 
 nature of the weapons employed in them. The an- 
 cients drew up their men 16 or 20, sometimes 50 men 
 deep, which made a narrow front ; and it was not diffi- 
 cult to find a field, in which both armies might be 
 marshalled, and might engage with each other. Even 
 where any body of the troops was kept off by hedges, 
 hillocks, woods, or hollow ways, the battle was not so 
 soon decided between the contending parties, but that 
 the others had time to overcome the difficulties which 
 opposed them, and take part in the engagement. And 
 as the whole army was thus engaged, and each man 
 closely buckled to his antagonist, the battles were com- 
 monly very bloody, and great slaughter was made on 
 both sides, especially on the vanquished. The lono- 
 thin lines, required by fire-arms, and the quick deci- 
 sion of the fray, render our modern engagements but 
 partial rencounters, and enable the general, who is 
 
 " The ancient soldiers, being free citizens, above the lowest rank, 
 were all married. Our modern soldiers are either forced to live un- 
 married, or their marriages turn to small account towards the increase of 
 mankind; a circumstance which ought, perhaps, to be taken into con- 
 sideration, as of some consequence in favour of the ancients, 
 VOL. III. F J?
 
 450 ESSAY XI. 
 
 foiled in tlic bcoinniiig of the clay, to draw off the 
 greater part of his army, sound and entire. ^ * 
 
 The battles of anticjiiity, both by their duration and 
 their resemblance to single combats, were wrought up 
 to a degree of fury quite unknown to later ages. No- 
 thing could then engage the combatants to give quar- 
 ter, but the hopes of profit, by making slaves of their 
 prisoners. In civil wars, as we learn from Tacitus, " 
 the battles were the most bloody, because the prison- 
 ers were not slaves. 
 
 What a stout resistance must be made, where the 
 vanquished expected so hard a fate ! How inveterate 
 the rage, where the maxims of war were, in every re- 
 spect, so bloody and severe ! 
 
 Instances are frequent, in ancient history, of cities 
 besieged, whose inhabitants, rather than open their 
 gates, murdered their wives and children, and rushed 
 themselves on a voluntary death, sweetened perhaps by 
 a little prospect of revenge upon the enemy. Greeks, " 
 as well as barbarians, have often been wrought up to 
 this degree of fury. And the same determined spirit 
 and cruelty must, in other instances less remarkable, 
 have been destructive to human society, in those petty 
 
 5 4 In Editions F, G, H, N, there is the following passage and note. 
 Could Folard's project of the column take place (which seems un])racti- 
 cable), * it would render modern battles as destructive as the ancient. 
 
 " Hist. lib. ii. cap. -H-. 
 
 " As Abydus, mentioned by Livy, lib. xxxi. cap. 17, 18, and Polyb. 
 lib. xvi. As also the Xantliians, Appian, De I3ell. Civil, lib. iv. 
 
 • Wliat is the advantage of the column after it has broke the enemy's 
 line ? Only that it then takes them in flank, and dissipates whatever 
 stands near it by a lire from all sides. But till it lias broke them, does 
 it not presents flank to the enemy, and that exposed to their musketry, 
 and, what is much worse, to their cannon ?
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 451 
 
 commonwealths which lived in close nei«rhbourhoocl, 
 and were engaged in perpetual wars and contentions. 
 
 Sometimes the wars in Greece, says Plutarch, " were 
 carried on entirely by inroads, and robberies, and pi- 
 racies. Such a method of war must be more destruc- 
 tive in small states, than the bloodiest battles and 
 sieges. 
 
 By the laws of the twelve tables, possession during 
 two years formed a prescription for land ; one year for 
 moveables ; ^ * an indication, that there was not in Italy, 
 at that time, much more order, tranquillity, and settled 
 police, than there is at present among the Tartars. 
 
 The only cartel I remember in ancient history, is 
 that between Demetrius Poliorcetes and the Rhodians ; 
 when it was agreed, that a free citizen should be re- 
 stored for 1000 drachmas, a slave bearing arms for 
 500. " 
 
 But, secondly. It appears that ancient manners were 
 more unfavourable than the modern, not only in times 
 of war, but also in those of peace ; and that too in 
 every respect, except the love of civil liberty and of 
 equality, which is, I own, of considerable importance. 
 To exclude faction from a free government, is very dif- 
 ficult, if not altogether impracticable ; but such inve- 
 terate rage between the factions, and such bloody ma- 
 xims are found, in modern times, amongst relimous 
 parties alone. * ^ In ancient history we may always 
 observe, where one party prevailed, whether the nobles 
 
 '' In vita Arati. 
 
 5 5 Inst. lib. ii. cap. 6. It is true the same law seems to have been 
 continued till the time of Justinian. But abuses introduced by barba- 
 rism are not always corrected by civility. — Note in Editions F, G, H, N, 
 
 ■• Diod. Sicul, lib. XX. 
 
 5 G ' Where bigotted priests are the accusers, judges and executioners." 
 Thus in Editions F, G, H, N. 
 
 F F 2
 
 452 ESSAY XI. 
 
 or people (for I can observe no difference in this re- 
 spect), ' that they immediately butchered all of the op- 
 posite party who fell into their hands, and banished 
 such as had been so fortunate as to escape their fury. 
 No form of process, no law, no trial, no pardon. A 
 fourth, a third, perhaps near half of the city was 
 slaughtered, or expelled, every revolution ; and the 
 exiles always joined foreign enemies, and did all the 
 mischief possible to their fellow-citizens, till fortune put 
 it in their power to take full revenge by a new revolu- 
 tion. And as these were frequent in such violent go- 
 vernments, the disorder, diffidence, jealousy, enmity, 
 which must prevail, are not easy for us to imagine in 
 this age of the world. 
 
 There are only two revolutions I can recollect in an- 
 cient history, which passed without great severity, and 
 great effusion of blood in massacres and assassinations, 
 namely, the restoration of the Athenian Democracy 
 by Thrasybulus, and the subduing of the Roman Re- 
 public by Cffisar. We learn from ancient history, that 
 Thrasybulus passed a general amnesty for all past of- 
 fences ; and first introduced that word, as well as prac- 
 tice, into Greece. ' It appears, however, from many 
 orations of Lysias, « that the chief, and even some of 
 the subaltern offenders, in the preceding t^Tanny, were 
 tried and capitally punished. And as to Caesar's cle- 
 mency, thougk much celebrated, it would not gain 
 great applause in the present age. He butchered, for 
 
 ' Lysias, who was himself of the popular faction, and very narrowly 
 escaped from the thirty tyrants, says, that the Democracy was as violent 
 a government as the Oligarchy. Orat. 24'. De Statu Popul. 
 
 • Cicero, Philip. I. 
 
 « Ah Orat. 11. contra Eratost. ; Orat. l'^. contra Agorat. j Orat. ICv 
 pro Mantitlu
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 453 
 
 instance, all Cato's senate, when he became master of 
 Utica ; " 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 all public offices. 
 
 These people were extremely fond of liberty, but 
 seem not to have understood it very well. Wlien the 
 thirty tyrants first established their dominion at Athens, 
 they began with seizing all the sycophants and inform- 
 ers, who had been so troublesome during the demo- 
 cracy, and putting them to death by an arbitrary sen- 
 tence and execution. Mvery man^ says Sallust "^ and 
 Lysias, ^ rejoiced at these jmnishments ,- not considering 
 that liberty was from that moment annihilated. 
 
 The utmost energy of the nervous style of Thucy- 
 dides, and the copiousness and expression of the Greek 
 language, seem to sink under that historian, when he 
 attempts to describe the disorders which arose from 
 faction throufjhout all the Grecian commonwealths. 
 You would imagine that he still labours with a thouoht 
 greater than he can find words to communicate. And 
 he concludes his pathetic description with an observa- 
 tion, which is at once refined and solid : ' In these 
 contests, ' says he, ' those who were the dullest and most 
 stupid, and had the least foresight, commonly prevail- 
 ed. For beinnr conscious of this weakness, and dread- 
 ing to be over- reached by those of greater penetration, 
 they went to work hastily, without premeditation, by 
 the sword and poniard, and thereby got the start of 
 
 " Appian. De Bel. Civ. lib. ii. 
 
 * See Caesar's speech, De Bel. Cat. 
 
 "^ Orat. 24. And in Orat. 29. he mentions the factious spirit of the 
 popular assemblies as the only cause why these illegal punishments 
 should displease.
 
 454- ESSAY XI. 
 
 their antn<>onists, who were forming fine schemes and 
 projects for their destruction. ' * ' 
 
 Not to mention Dionysius ' tlie elder, who is com- 
 puted to liave butchered in cold blood above 10,000 of 
 his fellow-citizens; or Agathocles, ' Nabis, " and others, 
 still more bloody than he; the transactions, even in free 
 governments, were extremely violent and destructive. 
 At Athens, the thirty tyrants and the nobles, in a 
 twelvemonth, murdered without trial, about 1200 of 
 the people, and banished above the half of the citizens 
 that remained. » In Argos, near the same time, the 
 people killed 1200 of the nobles; and afterwards their 
 own demagogues, because they had refused to carry 
 their prosecutions farther. " The people also in Cor- 
 cvra killed 1500 of the nobles, and banished a thou- 
 sand. * These numbers will appear the more surpris- 
 ing, if we consider the extreme smallness of these states; 
 but all ancient history is full of such circumstances. * 
 
 5 7 ' I.il). 3. — The country in Europe wherein I have observed the 
 fjictions to be most violent, and party hatred the strongest, is Ireland. 
 This }!;oes so far as to cut ofT even tlie most common intercourse of civi- 
 lities betwixt the Protestants and Catholics. Their cruel insurrections, 
 and the severe revenges which they have taken of each other, are the 
 causes of this mutual ill-will, which is the chief source of disorder, po- 
 verty and dcjiopulation, in that country. The Greek factions I ima- 
 gine to have been inHamed still to a higher degree of rage: The revolu- 
 tions being commonly more frequent, and the maxims of assassination 
 much more avowed and acknowledged.' — Note in Editions F, G, H, N. 
 
 ' Pint, de virt. et Fort. Alex. 
 
 • Died. Sic. ]il>. xviii. xix. " Tit. JAv. xxxi, xxxiii, xxxiv. 
 
 * Diod Sic. lib. xiv. Isocrates says, there were only 5000 banished. 
 He makes the number of those killed amount to 1500. Arcop. TEschines 
 contra (Jtesiph. assigns precisely the same number. Seneca (De Tranq. 
 Anim.) cap. v. s;iys l.'iOO. 
 
 ^ Diod. Sic. lib. XV. '' Diod. Sic. HI), xiii. 
 
 ■ We shall mention from Dioilorns Siculus alone a few mas.sacrcs, 
 wliiili pasicd in the course of sixty years, during the most shining age of
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANC£ENT NATIONS. 455 
 
 When Alexander ordered all the exiles to be restor- 
 ed throuo-hout all the cities, it was found, that the 
 whole amounted to 20,000 men ; '' the remains proba- 
 bly of still greater slaughters and massacres. What an 
 astonishing multitude in so narrow a country as ancient 
 Greece ! And what domestic confusion, jealousy, parti- 
 ality, revenge, heart-burnings, must have torn those 
 cities, where factions were wrought up to such a degree 
 of fury and despair ! 
 
 Greece. There were banished from Sybaris 500 of the nobles and their 
 partisans ; lib. xii. p. 77. ex edit. Rhodomanni. Of Chians, GOO citizens 
 banished; lib. xiii. p. 189. At Ephesus, 340 killed, 1000 banished; 
 lib. xiii. p. 22.3. Of Cyrenians, 500 nobles killed, all the rest banished ; 
 lib. xiv. p. 263. The Corinthians killed 120, banished 500; lib. siv. 
 p. 304-. l'ha;bidas the Spartan banished 300 Bajotians ; lib. xv. p. 312- 
 Upon the fall of the Lacedemonians, democracies were restored in many 
 cities, and severe vengeance taken of the nobles, after the Greek man- 
 ner. But matters did not end there. For the banished nobles, return- 
 ing in many places, butchered their adversaries at Phialae, in Corinth, in 
 Megara, in Phliasia. In this last place they killed 300 of the peojjle ; 
 but these again revolting, killed above 600 of the nobles, and banislied 
 the rest ; lib. xv. p. 357. In Arcadia 1400 banished, besides many kill- 
 ed. The banished retired to Sparta and to Pallantium : The latter were 
 delivered up to their countrymen, and all killed ; lib. xv. p. 373. Of 
 tlie banished from Argos and Thebes, there were 500 in the Spartan 
 army ; id. p. 374. Here is a detail of the most remarkable of Agatho- 
 cles's cruelties from the same author. The people, before his usurpa- 
 tion, had banished 600 nobles ; lib. xix. p. 655. Afterwards that tyrant, 
 in concurrence with the people, killed 4000 nobles, and banished 6000 ; 
 id. p. 647. He killed 4000 people at Gela; id. p. 741. By Ag:v- 
 thocles's brother 8000 banished from Syracuse ; lib. xx. p. 757. The 
 inhabitants of iEgesta, to the number of 40,000, were killed, man, wo- 
 man, and child; and with tortures, for the sake of their money; id. p. 
 802. All the relations, to wit, father, brother, children, grandfather, of 
 his Libyan army, killed ; id. p. 803. He killed 7000 exiles after capi- 
 tulation; id. p. 816. It is to be remarked, that Agathocles was a man 
 of great sense and courage, and is not to be suspected of wanton cruelty^ 
 ■contrary to the maxims of his age. 
 ^ Diod. Sic. lib. xviii.
 
 456 ESSAY XI. 
 
 It would be easier, says Isocrates to Philip, to raise 
 an army in Greece at present from the vagabonds than 
 from the cities. 
 
 Even when affairs came not to such extremities 
 (which they failed not to do almost in every city twice 
 or thrice every century), property was rendered very 
 precarious by the maxims of ancient government. Xe- 
 nophon, in the Banquet of Socrates, gives us a natural 
 imalTected description of the tyranny of the Athenian 
 people. ' In my poverty, ' says Charmides, ' I am 
 much more happy than I ever was while possessed of 
 riches : as much as it is happier to be in security than 
 in terrors, free than a slave, to receive than to pay court, 
 to be trusted than suspected. Formerly I was obliged 
 to caress every informer ; some imposition was con- 
 tinually laid upon me ; and it was never allowed me to 
 travel, or be absent from the city. At present, when I 
 am poor, I look big, and threaten others. The rich 
 are afraid of me, and show me every kind of civility 
 and respect ; and I am become a kind of tyrant in the 
 city.' = 
 
 In one of the pleadings of Lysias, " the orator very 
 coolly speaks of it, by the by, as a maxim of the Athe- 
 nian people, that whenever they wanted money, they 
 put to death some of the rich citizens as well as strang- 
 ers, 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 sti^anger among 
 that people, it seemed indeed requisite, either that he 
 should impoverish liimself, or that the people would 
 
 "^ Pag. bbo, ex udit. Lcuudav. <■ Oral. 29, in Nicom.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 457 
 
 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 ; " that is, above 
 the third of it in raree-shows and figured dances. 
 
 I need not insist on the Greek tyrannies, which were 
 altogether horrible. Even the mixed monarchies, by 
 which most of the ancient states of Greece were go- 
 verned, before the introduction of republics, were very 
 unsettled. Scarcely any city, but Athens, says Iso- 
 crates, could show a succession of kings for four or 
 five generations. 
 
 Besides many other obvious reasons for the instabi- 
 lity of ancient monarchies, the equal division of proper- 
 ty among the brothers of private flimilies, must, by a 
 
 ^ In order to recommend his client to the favour of the people, he 
 enumerates all the sums he had expended. When ;^aptiyos 30 minas ; 
 Upon a chorus of men 20 minas ; iia-rxvppi^itxraii, 8 minas ; aySpaa-t 
 Xopnyuv, 50 minas ; kukx/xim _;^«f u, 3 minas : Seven times trierarch, where 
 he spent 6 talents : Taxes, once 30 minas, another time 40 ; ■yv//.vatriap;^avy 
 12 minas; xPP^y^ w«<^ix« x.^pa, 15 minas: y.ofx.oiot( ^oprtyav, ISminas; 
 :7-t/pp(;^/o-Ta<f> «>'£vt(oif) 7 minas; rpirtpii ccfit\xofis\io(, 15 minas; ap^nQta- 
 pof, 30 minas : In the whole ten talents; 38 minas. An immense sura 
 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 expense, not above a fourth. But without the favour of 
 the people, nobody was so much as safe; and this was the only way to 
 gain it. See farther, Orat. 24', de pop. statu. In another place, he in- 
 troduces a speaker, who says that he had spent his whole fortune, and 
 an immense one, eighty talents, for the people ; Orat. 25. de Prob. Evan- 
 dri. The /isroixo/, or strangers, find, says he, if they do not contribute 
 largely enough to the people's fancy, that they have reason to repent it; 
 Orat. 30. cuntra Pliil. You may see with what care Demosthenes dis- 
 plays his expenses of this nature, when he pleads for himself de corona ; 
 and how he exa<Trrerates Midias's stiniriness in this particular, in his ac- 
 
 Gey *^ 
 
 cusation of that criminal. All this, by the by, is a mark of a very ini- 
 quitous judicature : And yet the Athenians valued themselves on having 
 the most legal and regular administration of any people in Greece. 
 i Tanath.
 
 458 ESSAY XI. 
 
 necessary consequence, contribute to unsettle and dis- 
 turb the state. The iniiversal preference given to the 
 elder by modern laws, though it increases the inequali- 
 ty of fortunes, has, however, this good effect, that it 
 accustoms men to the same idea in public succession, 
 and cuts oif all claim and pretension of the younger. 
 
 The new settled colony of Heraclea, falling immedi- 
 ately into faction, applied to Sparta, who sent Heripi- 
 das with full authority to quiet their dissensions. This 
 man, not provoked by any opposition, not inflamed by 
 party rage, knew no better expedient than immediate- 
 ly putting to death about 500 of the citizens ; ^ a strong 
 proof how deeply rooted these violent maxims of go- 
 vernment were throughout all Greece. 
 
 If such was the disposition of men's minds among 
 that refined people, Avhat may be expected in the com- 
 monwealths of Italy, Africa, Spain, and Gaul, which 
 were denominated barbarous ? Why otherwise did the 
 Greeks so much value themselves on their humanity, 
 gentleness, and moderation, above all other nations ? 
 This reasoning seems very natural. But unluckily the 
 liistory of the Roman commonwealth, in its earlier 
 times, if we give credit to the received accounts, pre- 
 sents an opposite conclusion. No blood was ever shed 
 in any sedition at Rome till the murder of the Gracchi. 
 Dionysius Ilalicarnassyeus, " observing the singular hu- 
 manity of the Roman people in this particular, makes 
 use of it as an argument that they were originally 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. 
 
 « Diod. Sic. lilj. xiv. »> Lib. i.
 
 roPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 459 
 
 If the Romans were so late in coming to blows, they 
 made ample compensation after they had once entered 
 upon the bloody scene ; and Appian's history of their 
 civil wars contains the most frightful picture of mas- 
 sacres, proscriptions, and forfeitures, that ever was pre- 
 sented to the world. What pleases most, in that his- 
 torian, 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. ' 
 
 The maxim of ancient politics contain, in general, 
 so little humanity and moderation, that it seems super- 
 fluous to give any particular reason for the acts of vio- 
 lence committed at any particular period. Yet I can- 
 not forbear observing, that the laws, in the later period 
 of the Roman commonwealth, were so absurdly con- 
 trived, that they obliged the heads of parties to have 
 recourse to these extremities. All capital punishments 
 
 ' The authorities above cited are all historians, orators, and philoso- 
 phers, whose testimony is unquestioned. It is dangerous to rely upon 
 writers who deal in ridicule and satire. What will posterity, for in- 
 stance, 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 sojourned some time in my travels, the bulk of the people 
 consist, in a manner, wholly of discoverers, witnesses, informers, ac- 
 cusers, prosecutors, evidences, swearers, together with their several sub- 
 servient and subaltern instruments, all under the colours, the conduct, 
 and pay of ministers of state and their deputies. The plots in that king- 
 dom are usually the workmanship of those persons, ' &c. Gu/lirer'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 object. The Bishop of Rochester, who was 
 his friend, and of the same party, had been banished a little before by a 
 bill of attainder, with great justice, but without such a proof as was legal, 
 or according to the strict forms of common law.
 
 4C0 ' ESSAY XT. 
 
 were abolished : However criminal, or, what is more, 
 liowever (lani>eroiis anv citizen inii>ht be, he could not 
 regularly be punished otherwise than by banishment: 
 And it became necessary, in the revolutions of party, 
 to draw the sword of private vengeance ; nor was it 
 easy, when laws were once violated, to set bounds to 
 these sanguinary proceedings. Had Brutus himself 
 prevailed over the triuinvirate ,- could he, in common 
 prudence, have allowed Octavius and Antony to live, and 
 liave contented himself with banishing them to Rhodes 
 or Marseilles, where they might still have plotted 
 new commotions and rebellions ? His executing C. An- 
 tonius, brother to the triumvir, shows evidently his sense 
 of tlie matter. Did not Cicero, with the approbation 
 of all the wise and virtuous of Rome, arbitrarily put to 
 death Catiline's accomplices, contrary to law, and with' 
 out any trial or form of process ? and if he moderated 
 Ills executions, did it not proceed, either from the cle- 
 mency of his temper, or the conjunctures of the times? 
 A wretched security in a government which pretends 
 to laws and liberty ! 
 
 Thus one extreme produces another. In the same 
 manner as excessive severity in the laws is apt to beget 
 great relaxation in their execution ; so their excessive 
 lenity naturally produces cruelty and barbarity. It is 
 dangerous to force us, in any case, to pass their sacred 
 boundaries. 
 
 One general cause of the disorders, so frequent in 
 all ancient governments, seems to have consisted in the 
 great difliculty of establishing any aristocracy in those 
 ages, and the perpetual discontents and seditions of the 
 peoph', wlienever even tlie meanest and most beggarly 
 were exclndid from the legislature and from public 
 oiTiccs. The very (juality o\' freemen gave such a rank,
 
 roruLousNEss of ancient nations. 401 
 
 being opposed to that of slave, that it seemed to entitle 
 the possessor to every power and iirivilege of the com- 
 monwealth. Solon's "^ laws excluded no freemen from 
 votes or elections, but confined some magistracies to a 
 particular ceyisiis ; yet were the people never satisfied 
 till those laws were repealed. By the treaty with An- 
 tipater,' no Athenian was allowed a vote whose census 
 was less than 2000 drachmas (about 60/. Sterling). And 
 though such a government would to us appear suffici- 
 ently democratical, it was so disagreeable to that peo- 
 ple, that above two-thirds of them immediately left their 
 country. "" Cassander reduced that census to the half; " 
 yet still the government was considered as an oligar- 
 chical tyranny, and the effect of foreign violence. 
 
 Servius Tullius's " 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. 
 
 In those days there was no medium between a se- 
 vere, jealous aristocracy, ruling over discontented sub- 
 jects, and a turbulent, fiictious, tyrannical democracy, 's 
 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 be- 
 yond Marseilles, Rhodes, or the most celebrated in an- 
 tiquity. Almost all of them are well tempered aristo- 
 cracies. 
 
 But, thirdly, There are many other circumstances in 
 which ancient nations seem inferior to the modern, 
 both for the happiness and increase of mankind. Trade, 
 
 ^ Plutarch, in vita Solon. ' Diod. Sic. lib. xviii. 
 
 "' Id. ibid. " Id. ibid. " Tit. Liv. lib. i. cap. 43. 
 
 5 s This sentence was not in the Editions prior to 0.
 
 402 ESSAY xr. 
 
 niamiractures, industry, were no where, in former ages, 
 so Hourisliing as they arc at present in Europe. The 
 only garb of the ancients, both for males and females, 
 seems to have been a kind of flannel, which they wore, 
 commonly white or grey, and which they scoured as 
 often as it became dirty. Tyre, which carried on, af- 
 ter Carthage, the greatest connnerce of any city in the 
 Mediterranean, befoi'c it was destroyed by Alexander, 
 was no mighty city, if we credit Arrian's account of its 
 inhabitants. ^ Athens is commonly supposed to have 
 been a trading city ; but it was as populous before the 
 ^ledian war as at any time after it, according to Hero- 
 dotus;' 3'et its commerce at that time was so incon- 
 siderable, that, as the same historian observes,' even 
 the neighbouring coasts of Asia were as little frequent- 
 ed by the Greeks as the Pillai's of Hercules, for be- 
 yond these he conceived nothin<r. 
 
 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'of 100 
 per ecu/, 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 
 j)rofit. Antidorus, says Demosthenes, ' paid three 
 tiilents and a half for a house, which he let at a talent 
 a year ; and the orator blames his own tutors for not 
 eini)l(>ying his money to like advantage. My fortune, 
 
 ^ Lil). ii. 'i'liere were SOOO killed (iuriii'f the siege, and the cajjlivcs 
 amounted to .'iO.CHXJ. Diodorus Siculus, lib. xvii. says only l.'J,000; but 
 he accounts for tliis small number by saying, that the Tyriaiis liad sent 
 away Ijeforehand ))art of their wives and children to Carthage, 
 
 '' I'll/. V. he makes the number of the citizens amount to .'jO,()00. 
 
 ' lb. V. 
 
 • Orat. .Ti. advers. Diagit, • Contra Aphob. p. 25. ex edit. Aldi.
 
 rOPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 403 
 
 says he, in eleven years' minority, ought to liave been 
 tripled. The value of 20 of the slaves left by his fa- 
 ther, he computes at 40 minas, and the yearly profit of 
 their labour at 12. " The most moderate interest at 
 Athens (for there was higher" often paid), was \2 j^cr 
 cent.^ and that paid monthly. Not to insist upon the 
 high interest to which the vast sums distributed in elec- 
 tions had raised money '^ at Rome, we find, that Verres, 
 before that factious period, stated 24 jper cent, for 
 money which he left in the hands of the publicans; and 
 though Cicero exclaims against this article, it is not on 
 account of the extravagant usury, but because it had 
 never been customary to state any interest on such oc- 
 casions. * Interest, indeed, sunk at Rome, after the 
 settlement of the empire ; but it never remained any 
 considerable time so low as in the commercial states of 
 modern times. ^ 
 
 Among the other inconveniences which the Atheni- 
 ans felt from the fortifying of Decelia by the Lacede- 
 monians, it is represented by Thucydides,'' as one of the 
 most considerable, 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 navigation, for the water-carriage is not here 
 above double the land. 
 
 I do not remember a passage in any ancient author, 
 where the growth of a city is ascribed to the establish- 
 ment of a manufacture. The commerce, which is said 
 to flourish, is chiefly the exchange of those commodities, 
 
 " Id. p. 19. ' Id. ibid. 
 
 y Id. ibid, and iEschines contra Ctesiph. 
 
 ^ Epist. ad Attic, lib. iv. epist. 15. 
 
 " Contra Verr. Orat. 3. " See Essay IV. = Lib. vii.
 
 4()1< ESSAY xr. 
 
 for wliich (liflorent soils and climates were suited. The 
 sale of wine and oil into Africa, according to Diodorus 
 ►Siculiis,*' was the foundation of the riches of Agrigen- 
 turn. The situation of the city of Sybaris, according 
 to the same author, "^ was the cause of its immense po- 
 pulousness, being built near the two rivers Crathys and 
 8ybaris. But these two rivers, we may observe, are 
 not navigable, and could only produce some fertile 
 valleys for agriculture and tillage ; an advantage so in- 
 considerable, that a modern writer would scarcely have 
 taken notice of it. 
 
 The barbarity of the ancient tyrants, together with 
 the extreme love of liberty which animated tliose 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 carried with him any art or skill to procure 
 a subsistence in other countries, would have remained 
 exposed to such implacable barbarity ? The persecu- 
 tions of Philip II. and Louis XIV. 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 possible that this industry may flourish, even where 
 manufactures and other arts are unknown and nejjlect- 
 ed. Swisserland is at present a renuirkable 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 
 
 '' Lib. xiii. '^ Lib. xii.
 
 POrULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 465 
 
 periods, we liave reason to presume ; and whether the 
 mechanical arts had reached the same degree of per- 
 fection, may not be esteemed so material, especially if 
 we consider tlie 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 ma}', in 
 some instances, flourish without trade or manufactures, 
 to conclude, that, in any great extent of country, and 
 for any great tract of time, it would subsist alone ? 
 The most natural way, surely, of encouraging hus- 
 bandry, is, first, to excite other kinds of industry, and 
 thereby afford the labourer a ready market for his com- 
 modities, and a return for such goods as may contri- 
 bute to his pleasure and enjoyment. This method is 
 infallible and universal ; and, as it prevails more in 
 modern governments than in the ancient, 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 attention to the execution ; a strong proof, as Co- 
 lumella hints, that agriculture was but little known in 
 the age of Xenophon. 
 
 All our later improvements and refinements, have 
 they done nothing towards the easy subsistence of men, 
 and consequently towards their propagation and in- 
 crease ? Our superior skill in mechanics ; the discovery 
 of new worlds, by which commerce has been so much 
 enlarged ; the establishment of posts ; and the use of 
 bills of exchange : These seem all extremely useful to 
 the encouragement of art, industry, and populousness. 
 
 ^ Oecoii. 
 VOL. III. G G
 
 466 ESSAY xr. 
 
 Were wc to strike off these, what a check should we 
 give to every kind of business and labour, and what 
 multitudes of families would immediately perish from 
 want and hunger ? And it seems not probable, that 
 we could supply the place of these new inventions by 
 any other regulation or institution. 
 
 Have we reason to think, that the police of ancient 
 states was any wise comi)arable to that of modern, or 
 that men had then equal security, either at home, or 
 in their journeys by land or water ? I question not, but 
 every impartial examiner would give us the preference 
 in this particular. ^ 
 
 Thus, upon comparing the whole, it seems impos- 
 sible 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 in- 
 deed circumstances favourable to the propagation of 
 mankind : But their wars were more bloody and de- 
 structive, their governments more factious and un- 
 settled, commerce and manufactures more feeble and 
 languishing, and the general police more loose and ir- 
 regular. These latter disadvantages seem to form a 
 suflicient counterbalance to the former advantages ; and 
 rather favour the opposite opinion to that which com- 
 monly prevails with regard to this subject. 
 
 But there is no reasoning, it may be said, against 
 matter of fact. If it appear that the world was then 
 more populous than at present, we may be assured 
 that our conjectures are false, and that we have over- 
 looked some material circumstance in the comparison. 
 This I readily own : All our preceding reasonings I 
 
 ^ ik-'c I'art I. Essay XI,
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 467 
 
 acknowledge to be mere trifling, or, at least, small 
 skirmishes and frivolous rencounters, which decide no- 
 thing. But unluckily the main combat, where we com- 
 pare facts, cannot be rendered much more decisive* 
 The facts delivered by ancient authors are either so 
 uncertain or so imperfect as to afford us nothing posi- 
 tive in this matter. How indeed could it be otherwise ? 
 The very facts which we must oppose to them, in com- 
 puting 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 
 formed an estimate of the immense greatness of Rome 
 from ten thousand pounds weight of cobwebs which had 
 been found in that city. " 
 
 It is to be remarked, that all kinds of numbers are 
 uncertain in ancient manuscripts, and have been sub- 
 ject to much greater corruptions than any other part of 
 the text, and that for an obvious reason. Any altei-a- 
 tion in other places commonly affects the sense of 
 grammar, and is more readily perceived by the reader 
 and transcriber. 
 
 Few enumerations of inhabitants have been made of 
 any tract of country by any ancient author of good 
 authority, so as to afford us a large enough view for 
 comparison. 
 
 It is probable that there was formerly a good foun- 
 dation for the number of citizens assigned to any free 
 city, because they entered for a share in the govern- 
 ment, and there were exact registers kept of them. 
 But as the number of slaves is seldom mentioned, this 
 
 »• iElii Lamprid. in vita Heliogab. cap. 2G. 
 G g2
 
 408 ESSAY XT. 
 
 leaves us in as great uncertainty as ever with regard to 
 the populousness even of single cities. 
 
 Tlie first page of Thucydicles is, in my opinion, the 
 commencement of real history. All preceding narra- 
 tions are so intermixed with fable, that philosophers 
 ouglit to abandon them, in a great measure, to the 
 cmbeHishment of poets and orators. ' 
 
 AX'ith regard to remoter times, the numbers of peo- 
 ple assigned are often ridiculous, and lose all credit 
 and authority. The free citizens of Sybaris, able to 
 bear arms, and actually drawn out in battle, were 300,000. 
 They encountered at Siagra with, 100,000 citizens of 
 Crotona, another Greek city contiguous to them, and 
 were defeated. — This is Diodorus Siculus's ^ account, 
 and is very seriously insisted on by that historian. Stra- 
 bo ' also mentions the same number of Sybarites. 
 
 Diodorus Siculus, '" enumerating the inhabitants of 
 Agrigentum, when it was destroyed by the Carthagi- 
 nians, says that they amounted to 20,000 citizens, 
 200,000 strangers, besides slaves, who, in so opulent 
 a city as he represents it, would probably be at least as 
 numerous. We must remark, that the women and the 
 children are not included; and that, therefore, upon 
 
 ' In general, there is more tandour and sinceiily in ancient historians, 
 but less exactness and care, than in tlie moderns. Our specidative fac- 
 tions, especially those of religion, tlirow sucli an illusion over our minds, 
 that men seem to regard impartiality to their adversaries and to heretics 
 as a vice or weakness. But the commonness of books, by means of 
 jirinting, has obliged modern historians to be more careful in avoiding 
 contradictions and incongruities. Diodorus Sicnlus is a good viriter, 
 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 
 ex])edition, and Demosthtnes's orations. Plutarch and Appian seem 
 scarce ever to h;ivc read Cicero's epistles. 
 
 '' Lib. xii. ' Lib. xi. "" Lib. xiii.'
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 469 
 
 the whole, this city must have contained near two mil- 
 lions of inhabitants. " And what was the reason of so 
 immense an increase ? Tliey were industrious in culti- 
 vating the neighbouring fields, not exceeding a small 
 English county ; and they traded with their wine and 
 oil to Africa, which at that time produced none of 
 these commodities. 
 
 Ptolemy, says Theocritus ° commands 33,339 cities. 
 I suppose the singvdarity of the number was the reason 
 of assio-nino; it. Diodorus Siculus '' assigns three mil- 
 lions of inhabitants to Egypt, a small number : But 
 then he makes the number of cities amount to 18,000 ; 
 an evident contradiction. 
 
 He says, "^ the people were formerly seven millions. 
 Thus remote times are alwavs most envid and admired. 
 
 That Xerxes's army was extremely numerous, I can 
 readily believe ; both from the great extent of his em- 
 pire, and from the practice among the eastern nations 
 of encumbering their camp with a superfluous multi- 
 tude : But will any rational man cite Herodotus's won- 
 derful narrations as any authority ? There is something 
 very rational, I own, in Lysias's ' argument upon this 
 subject. Had not Xerxes's army been incredibly nu- 
 merous, says he, he had never made a bridge over the 
 Hellespont : It had been much easier to have transport- 
 ed his men over so short a passage with the numerous 
 shipping of which he was master. 
 
 Polybius says ' that the Romans, between the first 
 and second Punic wars, being threatened with an in- 
 vasion from the Gauls, mustered all their own forces, 
 
 " Diogenes Laeitius (in vita Empedoclis) says, that Agrigentum con- 
 tained only 800,000 inliabitants. 
 
 " Idyll. 17. P Lib. i. " Id. ibid. 
 
 ' Oral, de Funebris. ' Lib. ii.
 
 470 ESSAY XI. 
 
 and those of their allies, and found them amount to 
 seven hundred thousand men able to bear arms ; a great 
 number surely, and which, when joined to the slaves, 
 is probably not less, if not rather more, than that ex- 
 tent of country affords at present. ' The enumeration 
 too seems to have been made with some exactness; and 
 Polybius gives us the detail of the particulars. But 
 might not the number be magnified, in order to en- 
 courage the people ? 
 
 Diodorus Siculus " makes the same enumeration a- 
 mount to near a million. These variations are suspi- 
 cious. He plainly too supposes, that Italy, in his 
 time, was not so populous ; another suspicious circum- 
 stance. For who can believe that the inhabitants of 
 that country diminished from the time of the first Pu- 
 nic war to that of the triumvirates ? 
 
 Julius Caesar, according to Appian, * encountered 
 four millions of Gauls, killed one million, and made 
 another million prisoners. ^ Supposing the number of 
 the enemy's army and that of the slain could be ex- 
 actly 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 le- 
 vied soldiers ? No attention ought ever to be given to 
 such loose, exaggerated calculations, especially where 
 the author does not tell us the mediums upon which 
 the calculations were founded. 
 
 Paterculus '"" makes the number of Gauls killed by 
 
 ' The country that supplied this number was not above a third of 
 Italy, viz. tlie I'ojje's dominions, Tuscany, and a part of the kingdom of 
 Naples : But perhajis in those early times there were very few slaves, 
 except in Rome, or the great cities. " Lib. ii. * Celtica. 
 
 '' Plutarch (in vita Caes.) makes the number that Ca;sar fought with 
 amount to three millions; Julian (in Caesaribus) to two. 
 
 * Lib. ii. cap. \1.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 471 
 
 Ci3esar amount only to 400,000 ; a more probable ac- 
 count, and more easily reconciled to tlie history oF 
 these wars given by that conqueror himsell' in his 
 Commentaries. "" The most bloody ol" his battles were 
 fought against the Helvetii and the Germans. 
 
 One would imagine, that every circumstance of the 
 life and actions of Dionysius the elder might be re- 
 garded as authentic, and free from all fabulous exag- 
 geration, both because he lived at a time when letters 
 flourished most in Greece, and because his chief his- 
 torian was Philistus, a man allowed to be of great ge- 
 nius, and who was a courtier and minister of that 
 prince. But can we admit that he had a standing ar- 
 my of 100,000 foot, 10,000 horse, and a fleet of 400 
 galleys ? These, we may observe, were mercenary 
 forces, and subsisted upon pay, like our armies in Eu- 
 rope, 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 along with him, which he distributed 
 among those who joined him. " In a state where agri- 
 culture alone flourishes, there may be many inhabi- 
 tants ; and if these be all armed and disciplined, a 
 great force may be called out upon occasion : But 
 great bodies of mercenary troops can never be maiii" 
 tained without either great trade and numerous manu- 
 
 ^ Pliny, lib. vii. cap. 25. says, that Ca;sar used to boast, tliat 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 tliat the Helvetii, Ger- 
 mans and Britons, whom he slaughtered, woidd amount to near a half 
 of the number. 
 
 ^ Diod. Sic. lib. ii. * Plutath. in vita Dionys.
 
 172 ESSAY XI. 
 
 factures, 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 possess as lar<fe a territory, perfectly well culti- 
 vated, and liave much more resources from their com- 
 merce and industry. Diodorus Siculus allows, that, 
 even in his time, the army of Dionysius appeared iur 
 credible ; that is, as I interpret it, was entirely a fic- 
 tion ; and the opinion arose from the exaggerated flat- 
 tery of the courtiers, and perhaps from the vanity and 
 })olicy of the tyrant himself. ^^ 
 
 5 9 ' Tlie critical art may very justly be suspected of temerity, when 
 it pretends to correct or dispute the plain testimony of ancient historians 
 bv any probable or analogical reasonings : Yet the license of authors 
 upon all subjects, particularly with regard to numbers, is so great, that 
 ■we ou^ht still to retain a kind of doubt or reserve, whenever the facts 
 advanced depart in the least from the common bounds of nature and ex- 
 perience. I shall give an instance with regard to modern history. Sir 
 William Temple tells us, in his jMemoirs, that having a free conversa- 
 tion with Charles the II., he took the opportunity of representing to 
 that monarch the impossibility of introducing into this island the reli- 
 gion and government of France, chiefly on account of the great force 
 rciiui:>ite to subdue the spirit and liberty of so brave a people. ' The 
 Romans, ' says he, ' were forced to keep up twelve legions for that pur- 
 pose ' (a great absurdity), * ' and Cromwell left an army of near eighty 
 thousand men. ' Must not this last be regarded as unquestioned by fu- 
 ture critics, when they find it asserted by a wise and learned minister of 
 state contemporary to the first, and who addressed his discourse, upon 
 an ungrateful subject, to a great monarch who was also contemporary, 
 and w ho himself broke those very forces about fourteen years before ? 
 Yet, by the most undoubted authority, we may insist that Cromwell's 
 army, when he died, did not amount to half the number here men, 
 tioncd. f 
 
 • Strabo, lib. iv. says, that one legion would be sufficient, i\ith a few 
 cavalry; but tlie Ilomans connnonly kept up somewhat a greater fore*; 
 in lliiji island, wliicii they never took the pains entirely to subdue. 
 
 + It appears that Croinwcirs parliament, in KioO, settled but 1,300,000
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 173 
 
 It is a usual fallacy to consider all the ages of anti- 
 quity as one period, and to compute the numbers con- 
 tained in 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. " 
 
 Let us now examine the numbers of the inhabitants 
 assigned to particular cities in antiquity ; and, omit- . 
 ting the numbers of Nineveh, Babylon, and the E- 
 gyptian Thebes, let us confine ourselves to the sphere 
 of real histoiy, to the Grecian and Roman states. I 
 must own, the more I consider this subject, the more 
 am I inclined to scepticism with regard to the great, 
 populousness ascribed to ancient times. 
 
 Athens is said by Plato" to be a very great city; 
 and it was surely the greatest of all the Greek ^ cities 
 except Syracuse, which was nearly about the same 
 
 pounds a year on him for the constant charges of government in all the 
 three kingdoms. See Scobel, chap. 31. This was to supply the fleet, army, 
 and civil list. It appears from ^Vhitelocke, that in the year 16i9, the 
 sum of 80,000 pounds a month was the estimate for -10,000 men. V»'e 
 must conclude, tlierefore, that Cromwell had much less than tliat num- 
 ber upon pay in 1656. In the very instrument of government, 20,000 
 foot and 10,000 horse are fixed by Cromwell himself, and afterwards con- 
 firmed by parliament, as the regular standing army of the commonwealth. 
 That number, indeed, seems not to have been much exceeded during 
 the whole time of the Protectorship. See farther Thurlo, Vol. II. 
 pp. il3, idd, 568. "We may there see, that though tlie Trotector had 
 more considerable armies in Ireland and Scotland, he had not sometimes 
 more than 4000 or 5000 men in England..— Editioks F, G, H. 
 
 •1 Strabo, lib. vi. 
 
 •^ Apolog. Socr. 
 
 f Argos seems also to liave been a great city; for Lysias content* 
 liimsell" witli saying, that it did not exceed Athens. Oral. 31.
 
 471 ESSAY XI. 
 
 size in TliucytHilos's ^ time, and afterwards increased 
 beyond it. For Cicero " mentions it as the greatest of 
 all the Greek cities in his time, not comprehending, 
 I suppose, either Antioch or Alexandria under that 
 denomination. Athenanis » says, that, by the enume- 
 ration 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 opi- 
 nion I call in question, and is esteemed a fundamental 
 fact to their purpose: But, in my opinion, there is no 
 point of criticism more certain than that Athenaeus 
 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 
 tlian 40,000. 
 
 First, When the number of citizens are said to be 
 21,000 by Athenaeus, ^ men of full age are only im- 
 derstood. For, 1. Herodotus says, ' that Aristogoras, 
 ambassador from the lonians, found it harder to de- 
 ceive one Spartan than 30,000 Athenians ; meaning, 
 in a loose way, the whole state, supposed to be met 
 in one popular assembly, excluding the women and 
 children. 2. Thucydides" says, that, making allow- 
 ance for all the absentees in the fleet, army, garrisons, 
 and for people employed in their private affairs, the 
 Athenian assembly never rose to five thousand. 3. 
 The forces enumerated by the same historian " being 
 
 ^ Lib. vL See also riutarch in vita Niciw. 
 
 >» Oral, contra Verrcm, lib. iv. cap. 52. Strabo, lib. vi. says, it wa> 
 twcnty-tv.o miles in compass. But then we are to consider, that it con- 
 tained two harbours within it, one of wliicli was a very large "one, and 
 might be regarded as a kind of bay. ' Lib. vi. cap. liO. 
 
 I" Demosthenes assigns 2U,0U0, contra Aristag. 
 
 » Lib. V. "' Lib. viii. 
 
 " Lib. ii. Diodorus Siculus'b account perfectly agrees, lib. xii.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 475 
 
 all citizens, and amounting to 13,000 heavy-armed in- 
 fantry, 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 num- 
 ber of citizens in any republic. Now, these being but 
 the fourth of the inhabitants, the free Athenians were 
 by this account 84,000 ; the strangers 40,000 ; and 
 the slaves, calculating by the smaller number, and al- 
 lowing that they married and propagated at the same 
 rate with freemen, were 160,000; and the whole of the 
 inhabitants 284,000; a number surely large enough. 
 The other number, 1,720,000, makes Athens larger 
 than London and Paris united. 
 
 Seco7icUj/, There were but 10,000 houses in Athens.® 
 
 Thirdli), Though the extent of the walls, as given us 
 by Thucydides, " be great (to wit, eighteen miles, be- 
 side the seacoast), yet Xenophon *" says there was 
 much waste ground within the walls. They seem in- 
 deed to have joined four distinct and separate cities. ' 
 
 Fou7'tJili/, No insurrection of the slaves, or suspicion 
 of insurrection, is ever mentioned by historians, ex- 
 cept one commotion of the miners. 
 
 Fifthly, The treatment of slaves by the Athenians 
 is said by Xenophon, ' and Demosthenes, " and Plau- 
 
 ° Xenophon Mem. lib. ii. ^ Lib. ii. "^ De Ratione Red 
 ^ We are to observe, that when Dionysius Halicarnassajus says, that 
 if we regard the ancient walls of Rome, the extent of that city will not 
 appear greater than that of Athens, he must mean the Acropolis and 
 high town only. No ancient author ever speaks of the Pyrajus, Phalerus, 
 and Munychia, as the same with Athens. Much less can it be supposed, 
 that Dionysius would consider the matter in tliat light, after tlie walls of 
 Cimon and Pericles were destroyed, and Athens was entirely separated 
 from these other towns. This observation destroys all Vossius's reason- 
 ings, and introduces common sense into these calculations. 
 
 " Athen. lib. vi. » Dc Rep. Athen. " Philip. 3.
 
 4'76 ESSAY XI. 
 
 tiis, ' to have been extremely gentle and indulgent ; 
 which conld never have been the case, had the dispro- 
 portion been twenty to one. The disproportion is not 
 so great in any of our colonies; yet we are obliged to 
 exercise a rigorous and military government over the 
 negroes. 
 
 SixtJili/y No man is ever esteemed rich for possessing 
 what may be reckoned an equal distribution of proj^er- 
 ty in any country, or even triple or quadruple that 
 wealth. Thus, ever}' person in England is computed 
 by some to spend sixpence a day ; yet he is esteemed 
 but poor who has five times that sum. Now, Timar- 
 chus is said by ^schines ^ 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 : ''' De- 
 mosthenes was left very rich by his father, yet he had 
 no more than fifty-two slaves. ^ His workhouse of 
 twenty cabinet-makers is said to be a very considerable 
 manufactory. ^ 
 
 Sevcnlhlt/, During the Decelian war, as the Greek 
 historians call it, 20,000 slaves deserted, and brouglit 
 the Athenians to great distress, as we learn from Thu- 
 cydides. " This could not have happened had they 
 been only the twentieth part. I'he best slaves would 
 not desert. 
 
 li,i<r]ilhhj, Xenophon " proposes a scheme for main- 
 taining by the public 10,000 slaves: And that so great 
 a immlier may possibly be su])])ortcd, any one will be 
 
 convinced, says he, who considers the numbers we pos- 
 sessed before the Decelian war ; a way of speaking 
 
 * Sticlio. '' Contra Tiiiiarcli. ''' Oral. II. " Contra Aphob. 
 
 i- ibid. ' Lib. vii. " Dc Hat. Red.
 
 rOPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 477 
 
 altogether incompatible with the larger number of 
 Athenaeus. 
 
 Niiif/ilij, The whole cejisiis of the state of Athens was 
 less than 6000 talents. And thoufrh numbers in an- 
 cient manuscripts be often suspected by critics, yet this 
 is unexceptionable ; both because Demosthenes,'' who 
 gives it, gives also the detail, which checks him ; and 
 because Polybius ^ assigns the same number, and rea- 
 sons upon it. Now, the most vulgar slave could yield 
 by his labour an oholus a day, over and above his main- 
 tenance, as we learn from Xenophon,'' 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 ; even though 
 allowance be made for the great number of holidays in 
 Athens. Besides, many of the slaves would have a 
 much o-reater value from their art. The lowest that 
 Demosthenes estimates any of his " father's slaves is 
 two minas a head. And upon this supposition, it is a 
 little difficult, I confess, to reconcile even the number 
 of 40,000 slaves with the ce?isns of 6000 talents. 
 
 Tcnl/ili/, Chios is said by Thucydides,' to contain 
 more slaves than any Greek city, except Sparta. Sparta 
 then had more than Athens, in proportion to the num- 
 ber of citizens. The Spartans were 9000 in the town, 
 30,000 in the country. " The male slaves, therefore, 
 of full age, must have been more than 780,000 ; the 
 whole more than 3, 120,000 ; a number impossible to 
 
 * De Classibiis. f Lib. ii. cap- 62. 
 
 ^ De Rat. Red. " Contra Apliobum. 
 
 > Lib. viii. '' Plutarch, in vita Lyciivg.
 
 478 ESSAY xr. 
 
 be maintained in a narrow bai'rcn country, such as 
 Laconia, which had no trade. Had the Helotes been 
 so very numerous, the murder of 2000, mentioned by 
 Thucydides,' would have irritated them, without weaken- 
 inii; them. 
 
 Besides, we are to consider, that the number assign- 
 ed by Athemcus, "' whatever it is, comprehends all the 
 inhabitants of Attica, as well as those of Athens. The 
 Athenians affected much a country life, as we learn 
 from Thucydides;" and when they were all chased in- 
 to town, by the invasion of their territory during the 
 Peloponnesian war, the city was not able to contain 
 them ; and they were obliged to lie in the porticos, 
 temples, and even streets, for want of lodging. ° 
 
 The same remark is to be extended to all the other 
 Greek cities ; and when the number of citizens is as- 
 signed, we must always imderstand it to comprehend 
 the inhabitants of the neighbouring country, as well as 
 of the city. Yet even with this allowance, it must be 
 confesj>cd that Greece was a populous country, and ex- 
 ceeded what we could imajiine conccrniuiii; so narrow a 
 territory, naturally not very fertile, and which drew no 
 supplies of corn from other places. For, excepting 
 Athens, which traded to Pontus for that commodity, 
 the other cities seem to have subsisted chiefly from 
 their neighbouring territory. '' 
 
 ' Lil). iv. 
 
 "' TJie same author aflirms, that Corinlli had once 4G0,000 slaves; 
 iEgina ITO/XJO. But the foregoing arguments hold stronger against 
 these facts, which are indeed entirely absurd and impossible. It is how- 
 ever rcmarkaljlc, tliat Athenaus cites so great an authority as Aristotle 
 for tills last fact : And the scholiast on Pindar mentions the same num- 
 ber of slaves in iEgina. 
 
 " Lib. il. ° Thucyd. lib. ii. 
 
 " Demost. contra Lfpt. The Athenians l)rought yearly from Pontus 
 400,000 mtdimrii or bushels of corn, as appeared from the tustomliouse
 
 POPULOUvSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 479 
 
 Rhodes is well known to have been a city of exten- 
 sive commerce, and of great fame and splendour ; yet 
 it contained only 6000 citizens able to bear arms when 
 it was besieged by Demetrius. ** 
 
 Thebes was always one of the capital cities of Greece;' 
 but the number of its citizens exceeded not those of 
 Rhodes. ' Phliasia is said to be a small city by Xeno- 
 
 books. And this was the greater part of their importation of corn. 
 This, by the by, is a strong proof that there is some great mistake in the 
 foregoing passage of Athenjcus. 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 navigiuin 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 perliaps Athens was decayed at that time ; 
 and, besides, it is not safe to trust to such loose rhetorical calculations. 
 1 Diod. Sic. lib. xx. "■ Isocr. paneg. 
 
 * 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 tlie Thebans, 
 will never suspect that any of them would desert their country when it 
 was reduced to such extreme peril and distress. As Alexander took the 
 town by storm, all tliose 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, 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 21-, 000, the strangers and slaves about 
 12,000. These last, we may observe, were somewhat fewer in jiropor- 
 tion than at Athens, as is reasonable to imagine from this circumstance, 
 that Athens was a town of more trade to support slaves, and of more en- 
 tertainment to allure strangers. It is also to be remarked, that 30,000 
 was the whole number of people, both in the city of Thebes and the 
 neighbouring territory. A very moderate number, it must be confessed ; 
 and this computation, being founded on facts which appear indisputaljlc, 
 must have great weight in the present controversy. The above men- 
 tioned number of Rhodians, too, were all the inhabitants of the island 
 who were free, and able to bear arms.
 
 4S0 ESSAY XI. 
 
 plum,' yet we find that it contained GOOO citizens." I 
 pretend not to reconcile these two facts. Perhaps Xe- 
 noi)lu)n 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 coun- 
 try belonjrinj; to it was extensive, and most of the 
 citizens were employed in the cultivation of it, and 
 dwelt in the nei<>hbourinfi; villao-es. 
 
 ISIantinea was equal to any city in Arcadia. "^ Con- 
 sequently it was equal to Megalopolis, which was fifty 
 stadia, or six miles and a quarter in circumference. ^ 
 But Mantinea had only 3000 citizens. "" 71ie Greek 
 cities, therefore, contained only fields and gardens, to- 
 gether with the houses ; and we cannot judge of them 
 by the extent of their walls. Athens contained no 
 more than 10,000 houses; yet its walls, with the sea- 
 coast, were above twenty miles in extent. Syracuse 
 was twenty-two miles in circumference ; yet was scarce- 
 ly ever spoken of by the ancients as more populous 
 than Athens. Babylon was a square of fifteen miles, 
 or sixty miles in circuit ; but it contained large culti- 
 vated fields and inclosures, as we learn from Pliny. 
 I'hough Aurelian's wall was fifty miles in circumfer- 
 ence,'' the circuit of all the thirteen divisions of Rome, 
 taken apart, according to Publius Victor, was only a- 
 bout forty-three miles. When an enemy invaded the 
 country, all the inhabitants retired within the walls of 
 the ancient cities, with their cattle and furniture, and 
 instruments of husbandry : and the great height to 
 whicli the walls were raised, enabled a small number 
 to defend them with facility. 
 
 ' Hist. Gr.xc. li!). vii. " Id. lib. vii. " Polyb. lib. ii. 
 
 " Polyb. lib. ix. cap. 'iO. '" Lysias, Oiat. '.il. 
 
 * V(')jisciH in vita Auicl.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 481 
 
 Sparta, says Xenophon, " is one of the cities of Greece 
 that has the fewest inhabitants. Yet Polybius ' says 
 that it was forty-eight stadia in circumference, and was 
 round. 
 
 All the ^tolians able to bear arms in Antipater's 
 time, deducting some few garrisons, were but 10,000 
 men. " 
 
 Polybius ^ tells us, that the Achaean league might, 
 without any inconvenience, march 30 or 40,000 men: 
 And this account seems probable ; for that league com- 
 preliended the greater part of Peloponnesus. Yet 
 Pausanias, ^ 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, 
 disorderly. ^ It is not therefore natural to suppose 
 that this part of Greece abounded much in people. 
 
 We are told by Thucydides, " that the part of Pelo- 
 ponnesus, adjoining to Pylos, was desert and unculti- 
 vated. Herodotus says,' that Macedonia was full of 
 lions and wikl bulls ; animals which can only inhabit 
 vast unpeopled forests. These were the two extre- 
 mities of Greece. 
 
 All the inhabitants of Epirus, of all ages, sexes, and 
 conditions, who were sold by Paulus ^'Emilius, amount- 
 
 ^ De Rep. Laced. This passage is not easily reconciled with that of 
 Plutarch above, who says that Sparta had 9000 citizens. 
 
 '^ Polyb. lib. ix. cap. xx. '' Diod. Sic. lib. xviii. 
 
 ^ Legat. ^ In Achaicis. 
 
 s Tit. Liv. lib. xxiv. cap. 51. Plato in Critone. 
 " Lib. vii. ' Lib. vii. 
 
 VOL. III. H H
 
 482 ESSAY XI. 
 
 ed only lo 150,000. * Yet Epirus might be double the 
 extent of Yorkshire. 
 
 Justin ' tells us, that when Philip of Macedon was 
 declared head of the Greek confederac}^, Jie 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 infan- 
 try and 15,000 cavalry. This must be understood to 
 be all the citizens capable of bearing arms. For as the 
 Greek republics maintained no mercenary forces, and 
 had no militia distinct from the whole body of the citizens, 
 it is not conceivable what other medium there could be 
 of com]:)utation. That such an army could ever, by 
 Greece, be brought into the field, and be maintained 
 there, is contrary to all history. Upon this supposi- 
 tion, therefore, we may thus reason. The free Greeks 
 of all ages and sexes were 800,000. The slaves, esti- 
 mating them by the number of Athenian slaves as a- 
 bove, who seldom married or had families, were double 
 tlie male citizens of full age, to wit, 430,000. And all 
 the inliabitants of ancient Gi'eece, excepting Laconia, 
 were about one million two hundred and ninety thou- 
 sand ; no mighty numbei-, nor exceeding what may be 
 found at present in Scotland, a country of not much 
 greater extent, and very inditferently peopled. 
 
 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 ; and no reason to support those 
 exaggerated calculations, so much insisted on by mo- 
 dern writers. 
 
 '' Tit. Liv. lib. xlv. cap. 34, ' Lib. ix. cap. 3.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 483 
 
 DIonysiiis Halicarnassaeus "" says, that the ancient 
 walls of Rome were nearly of the same compass with 
 those of Athens, but that the suburbs ran out to a great 
 extent ; and it was difficult to tell where the town end- 
 ed, or the country began. In some places of Rome, it 
 appears, from the same author, ° from Juvenal, ° and 
 from other ancient writers, ^ that the houses were high, 
 and families lived in separate stories, one above an- 
 other : But is it probable that these were only the poorer 
 citizens, and only in some few streets ? If we may judge 
 from the younger Pliny's "• account of his own house, 
 and from Bartoli's plans of ancient buildings, the men 
 of quality had very spacious palaces : and their build- 
 ings were like the Chinese houses at this day, where each 
 
 " Lib. iv. ° Lib. X. ° Satyr, iii. 1. 269, 270. 
 
 P Stiabo, lib. v. says, that the Emperor Augustus prohibited the 
 raising houses higher than seventy feet. In anotlicr passage, 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 
 tif Pu^wv, says, that Rome consisted of cities on the top of cities; and 
 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 extravatrant 
 declamations, and gives so much into the hyperbolical style, one knows 
 not how far he must be reduced. But this reasoning seems natural : If 
 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. 
 
 ' Lib. ii. cpist. 16. lib. v. epist. 6. It is true, Pliny there describes a 
 country-house ; but since that was the idea which the ancients formed of 
 a magnificent and convenient building, the great men would certainly 
 build the same way in town. ' In laxitatem ruris excurrunt, ' says Se- 
 neca of the rich and voluptuous, epist. 114'. Valerius Maximus, lib. iv. 
 cap. 4'. speaking of Cincinnatus's field of four acres, says, ' Auo'uste se 
 habitare nunc putat, cujusdomus tantum patet quantum Cincinnati rura 
 patuerant. ' To the same purpose see lib. xkxvi. cap. 15. ; also lib. xviii. 
 cap. 2. 
 
 H H 2
 
 484 ESSAY XI. 
 
 njiartmciit is separated iVoni the rest, and rises no 
 hi<>her than a single story. To which it" we add, that 
 the Ixoman nobility much affected extensive porticoes, 
 and even woods ' in town, we may perhaps allow Vos- 
 sius (thou<rh there is no manner of reason for it), to 
 read the famous passage of the elder Pliny ' his own 
 
 ' Vitruv. lib. V. cap. 11. Tacit- Annal. lib. xi. cap. 3. Sucton. in vita 
 Octav. cap. 72, &c. 
 
 ' ' ]Mocnia ejus (Roma) collegere ambitu iinperatoribus, censoribus- 
 quc Vespasianis, A. U. C. 828. pass. xiii. MCC, complesa monies sep- 
 tem, ipsa dividitur in rcgiones quatiiordecim, compita earum 2G5. Ejus- 
 dein spatii mensura, currente a Milliario in capite Rom. Fori statuto, 
 ad singulas portas, qua: sunt hodie numero 37, ita ut duodocim porta; 
 semel numcrcntur, pr^ctereanturque ex veteribus scptem, quae esse desie- 
 runt, efficit passuum per directum 30,775. Ad cxtrcma vcro tectorum 
 cum castris pra;toriis ab eodem Milliario, per vices omnium viarum, 
 mensura collegit paulo amplius scptuaginta millia passuum. Quo si 
 quis altitudinem tettorum addat, dignam profecto, a'stimationem conci- 
 piat, fatcaturque nuUius urbis magnitudincm in toto orbe potuisse ci 
 comi)aTari. ' Plin. lib. iii. cap. 5. 
 
 All the best manuscripts of Pliny read the passage as here cited, and 
 fix the compass of the avails of Rome to be thirteen miles. The ques- 
 tion is, What Pliny means by 30,775 paces, and Iiow that number was 
 formed? The manner in which I conceive it is this. Rome was a 
 semicircular area of thirteen miles circumference. The Forum, and 
 consequently the Milliarium, we know, was situated on the banks of the 
 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 tlie Millia- 
 rium. I'liny, therefore, having assigned the circumference of Rome, 
 and knowing that that alone was not sufficient to give us a just notion of 
 its surface, uses this farther method. He supposes all the streets lead- 
 ing 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 wliicii case, lie says, that the whole line is .30,775 paces, 
 or, ill 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 Jtome 
 is five miles, and its breadth about half as much, besides the scattered 
 suburbs.
 
 rorULousNESs of ancient nations. 485 
 
 way, without adniitling the extravagant consequences 
 which he draws from it. 
 
 The number of citizens who received corn by the 
 pubhc distribution in the time of Augustus were two 
 
 Pere Hardouin understands this passage in the same manner, 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 tliat 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 tliat circumference. 2d, There is an absurdity in supposing 
 a city so built as to have streets riinning to its centre from every gate in 
 its circumference, these streets must interfere as they approach. 3d, This 
 diminishes too much from the greatness of ancient Rome, and reduces 
 that city below even Bristol or Rotterdam. 
 
 The sense which Vossius, in his Obscrvationes variae, puts on this 
 passage of Pliny, errs widely in the other extreme. One manuscript of 
 no authority, instead of thirteen miles, has assigned thirty miles for the 
 compass of the walls of Rome. And Vossius 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 manuscripts. 
 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 sen- 
 sible a variation ? -Ith, What is the meaning of Pliny's mentioning 
 twice the Milliarium, if a line was measured that had no dependence on 
 the Milliarium ? 3th, Aurelian's wall is said by Vopiscus to have been 
 drawn laxiore ambitu, and to have compreiiended 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 mistake or corruption in the 
 text, since the walls which remain, and which are supposed to be the 
 same with Aurelian's, exceed not twelve miles. It is not probable that 
 Rome would diminish from Augustus to Aurelian. It remained still 
 the capital of the same empire ; and none of the civil v/ars in that long 
 period, except the tumults on the death of JMaximus 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 ab- 
 surd, that the rubbish would sink sixty or seventy feet under ground.
 
 486 ESSAY XI. 
 
 luiiulred thousand. ' This one would esteem a pretty 
 certain ground of calculation ; yet it is attended with 
 such circumstances as throw us back into doubt and 
 micertainty. 
 
 Did the poorer citizens only receive the distribution ? 
 It was calculated, to be sure, chiefly tor their benefit 
 But it appears from a passage in Cicero " that the rich 
 might also take their portion, and that it was esteem- 
 ed no reproach in them to apply for it. 
 
 To whom was the corn given ; whether only to heads 
 of families, or to every man, woman and child ? The 
 portion every month was five modii to each * (about 
 five-sixths of a bushel.) This was too little for a fa- 
 mily, and too much for an individual. A very accu- 
 rate anti(juary, ' therefore, infers, that it was given to 
 every man of full age : But he allows the matter to be 
 uncertain. 
 
 It appears from Sparfian (/n vita Severi) tliat 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 betw ixt forty and fifty thousand. 
 8th, The very extravagance of the consequences drawn by this critic, as 
 well as Lipsius, if they be necessary, destroy the foundation on which 
 tliey 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 wchave affixed above to the pas- 
 sage of Pliny, seems to lie in this, that Pliny, after mentioning the thirty- 
 Bcven gates of Rome, assigns only a reason for suppressing the seven old 
 ones, and says nothing of the eighteen gates; the streets leading from 
 which terminated, according to my opinion, before they reached the 
 Forum. But as Pliny was writing to the Romans, who perfectly knew 
 the disposition of the streets, it is not strange he should take a circum- 
 stance for granted which was so familiar to every body. Perhaps, too, 
 many of these gates led to wharfs upon the river. 
 
 « Ex monument. Ancyr. " Tusc. Quasst. lib. iii. cap. \ii. 
 
 * Licinius apud Sallust Hist. Frag, lib. iii. 
 
 * Nicolaus Ilorttnsius De Re Frumentaria Roman.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 487 
 
 Was it strictly inquired, whether the claimant lived 
 within the precincts of Rome ? or was it suflicient that 
 he presented himself at the monthly distribution ? This 
 last seems more probable. * 
 
 Were there no false claimants ? We are told, ^ that 
 Caesar struck off at once 170,000, who had creeped in 
 without a just title; and it is very little probable that 
 he remedied all abuses. 
 
 But, lastly, what proportion of slaves must we assign 
 to these citizens ? This is the most material question, 
 and the most uncertain. It is very doubtful whether 
 Athens can be established as a rule for Rome, Per- 
 haps the Athenians had more slaves, because they em- 
 ployed them in manufactures, for which a capital city, 
 like Rome, seems not so proper. Perhaps, on the o- 
 ther 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 bu- 
 rials, except Suetonius, t who tells us, that in one sea- 
 son there were 30,000 names carried to the temple of 
 Libitina : But this was during a plague, which can af- 
 ford no certain foundation for any inference. 
 
 The public corn, though distributed only to 200,000 
 citizens, affected very considerably the whole agricul- 
 culture of Italy ; *" a fact nowise reconcileable to some 
 
 ^ Not to take the people too much from their business, Augustus or- 
 dained the distribution of corn to be made only thrice a year : But the 
 people, finding the monthly distributions more convenient (as preserving, 
 I suppose, a more regular economy in their family), desired to have 
 them restored. Sueton. August, cap. 4-0. Had not some of the people 
 come from some distance for their corn, Augustus's precaution seems 
 superfluous. 
 
 ^ Sueton. in Jul. cap. ll. 
 
 ^ In vita Neronis. "^ Sueton. Aug. cap. 4'2.
 
 488 ESSAY XI. 
 
 modern exaggerations with regard to the inhabitants of 
 tliat country. 
 
 The best ground of conjecture I can find concerning 
 the greatness of ancient Rome is this : We are told by 
 Herodian, '^ that Antioch and Alexandria were very 
 little inferior to Rome. It appears from Diodorus Si- 
 culus*^ that one straight street of Alexandria, reaching 
 from irate to crate, was five miles lonjx ; and as Alexan- 
 dria was much more extended in length than breadth, 
 it seems to have been a city nearly of the bulk of Paris; ^ 
 and Rome miirht be about the size of London. 
 
 •^ Lib. iv. cap. 3. ^ Lib. xvii. 
 
 ^ Quintus Curtius says, its walls were ten miles in circumference, 
 when founded by Alexander, lib. iv. cap. 8. Strabo, who had 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 says it re- 
 sembled a IMacedoiiian cassock, stretching out in the corners, lib. v. 
 ca]i. 10. Notwithstanding 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 Marcelli- 
 nus, lib. xxii. cap. 16.) says it was /jivytSu Siafifovra, exlrcmehj great 
 ibid. Tlie reason wliich he assigns for its surpassing all cities in the 
 world (for he excepts not Rome) is, that it contained .300,000 free in- 
 haljitants. lie also mentions the revenues of the kings, to wit, GOOD 
 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 country, means only 
 that it was peopled, oiy.ov/jcfya y.axaf. Might not one aiKrm, without 
 any great hyperbole, th;it the whole banks of the river, from Gravesend 
 to Windsor, are one city ? This is even more than Strabo says of the 
 lianks of tlie lake Mareotis, and of the canal to Canopus. It is a vulgar 
 saying in Italy, that tlie king of Sardinia has but one town in Piedmont, 
 for it is all a town. Agrippa, in Josephus dc hello Judaic- lib. ii. cap. 16. 
 to make Iiis audience comprehend the excessive greatness of Alexandria, 
 wJiich lie endeavours to magnify, describes only the compass of the city 
 as drawn by Alexander; a clear proof that the l)ulk of the inliabitants 
 were lodged there, and that the neighbouring country was no more than 
 what might be cxpccU-d about all great towns, very well cultivated, and 
 well peopled.
 
 rOPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 489 
 
 There lived in Alexandria, in Diodorus Siculus's 
 time, ^ 300,000 free people, comprehending, I sup- 
 pose, women and children. " But what number of 
 slaves ? Had we any just ground to fix these at an e- 
 qual number with the free inhabitants, it would favour 
 the foi'egoing computation. 
 
 There is a passage in Herodian which is a little sur- 
 prising. He says positively, that the palace of the 
 Emperor was as large as all the rest of the city. ' This 
 was Nero's golden house, which is indeed represented 
 by Suetonius ^ and Pliny as of an enormous extent; ' 
 but no power of imagination can make us conceive it 
 to bear any proportion to such a city as London. 
 
 We may observe, had the historian bee;i relating 
 Nero's extravagance, and had he made use of such an 
 expression, it would have had much less weight ; these 
 rhetorical exaggerations being so apt to creep into an 
 author's style, even when the most chaste and correct. 
 
 ^ Lib. xvii. 
 
 •» He says iKivBspoi not rroxnai, which last expression must have been 
 
 understood of citizens alone, and grown men. 
 
 ' Lib. iv. cap. 1. -aixa-rc •nroXeaf. Politian interprets it, ' a;dibus majo- 
 ribus etiam reli(jua urbe. ' 
 
 ^ He says (in Nerone, cap. 30.) that a portico or piazza of it was 3000 
 feet long ; « tanta laxitas ut porticus triplices milliarias 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 
 milliariensis, 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. L satyr 8. 
 
 ' Mille pedes in fronte, treccntos cippus in agrum 
 Hie dabat. ' 
 > Plinius, lib. xxxvi. cap. 15. < Bis vidimus urbcm totam cingi do- 
 mibus principum, Caii ac Neronis. '
 
 490 ESSAY XI. 
 
 But it is mentioned by Hcrodian only by the by, in 
 rclatin<^ tlie quarrels between Geta and Caracalla. 
 
 It appears from the same historian," that there was 
 then much land uncultivated, and put to no manner of 
 use; and he ascribes it as a great praise to Pertinax, that 
 he allowed every one to take such land, either in Italy 
 or elsewhere, and cultivate it as he pleased, without pay- 
 ing any taxes. Lands uncultivated, and put to no man- 
 7icr of use ! This is not heard of in any part of Christen- 
 dom, except in some remote parts of Hungary, as I 
 liave been informed : And it surely corresponds very ill 
 with that idea of the extreme populousness of antiquity 
 so much insisted on. 
 
 We learn from Vopiscus, " that there was even in E- 
 truria much fertile land uncultivated, which the empe- 
 ror Aurelian intended to convert into vineyards, in or- 
 der to furnish the Roman people with a gratuitous dis- 
 tribution of wine ; a very proper expecUent for depo- 
 pulating still farther that capital, and all the neigh- 
 bouring territories. 
 
 It may not be amiss to take notice of the account 
 •which Polybius " gives of the great herds of swine to 
 be met with in Tuscany and Lombardy, as well as in 
 Greece, and of the method of feeding them which was 
 then practised. * There are great herds of swine, ' says 
 lie, ' throughout all Italy, particulary in former times, 
 through Etruria and Cisalpine Gaul ; and a herd fre- 
 quently consists of a thousand or more swine. When 
 one of these herds in feeding meets with another, tliey 
 mix together ; and the swine-herds have no other ex- 
 pedient for separating tliem than to go to different 
 
 ■ Lib. ii. cap. J5. 
 
 ■ In Aurtliai), cap. 1«. " Lib. xii. cap. 2.
 
 roruLOusNEss of ancient nations. 491 
 
 quarters, where they sound their liorn ; and these ani- 
 mals, being accustomed to that signal, run immediate- 
 ly each to the horn of his own keeper. Whereas in 
 Greece, if the herds of swine happen to mix in the fo- 
 rests, he who has the greater flock takes cunningly the 
 opportunity of driving all away. And thieves are very 
 apt to purloin the straggling hogs, which have wander- 
 ed 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 peo- 
 pled, and worse cultivated than at present ? How 
 could these vast herds be fed in a country so full of en- 
 closures, so improved by agriculture, so divided by 
 farms, so planted with vines and corn intermingled to- 
 gether? I must confess, that Polybius's relation has 
 more the air of that economy which is to be met with 
 in our American colonies, than the management of an 
 European countrj^ 
 
 We meet with a reflection in Aristotle's " 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 philo- 
 sopher, treating of friendship, and observing, that this 
 relation ought neither to be contracted to a very few, 
 nor extended over a great multitude, illustrates his o- 
 pinion 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 thou- 
 sand ; so is there mediocrity required in the number of 
 friends ; and you destroy the essence of friendship by 
 running into either extreme. ' Wliat ! impossible that 
 
 P Lib. ix. cap. 10. His expression is Av^putzof, not zsoXims, inhabi- 
 tant, not dtizeu.
 
 492 ESSAY XI. 
 
 a city can contain a lunidrcd tliousand inliabitants ! 
 Had Aristotle never seen nor heard of a city so popu- 
 lous ? This, I must own, passes my comprehension. 
 
 Pliny " tells us, that Seleucia, the seat of the Greek 
 empire in the East, was reported to contain 600,000 
 people. Carthage is said by Strabo ' to have contain- 
 ed 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, Alexan- 
 dria, Antioch, we have already spoken of. From the 
 experience of past and present ages, one might con- 
 jecture that there is a kind of impossibility that any city 
 could ever rise much beyond this proportion. Whether 
 the grandeur of a city be founded on commerce or on 
 empire, there seem to be invincible obstacles which pre- 
 vent its farther progress. The seats of vast monarchies, 
 by introducing extravagant luxury, irregular expense, 
 idleness, dependence, and false ideas of rank and su- 
 periority, are improper for commerce. Extensive com- 
 merce checks itself, by raising the price of all labour 
 and commodities. When a great court engages the 
 attendance of a numerous nobility, possessed of over- 
 grown fortunes, the middling gentry remain in their 
 provincial towns, where they can make a figure on a 
 moderate income. And if the dominions of a state ar- 
 rive at an enormous size, there necessarily arise many 
 capitals, in the remoter provinces, whether all the in- 
 liabitants, except a few courtiers, repair for education, 
 fortune, and amusement. * London, by uniting exten- 
 
 •^ Lit), vi. cap. 28. ' Lib. xvii. 
 
 • SiK'li wtre Aluxandria, Antioch, Carthage, I^i)hesus, Lyons, &.c. in 
 tlie Iloman cmi)irc. Sucli arc even Bourdeaux, Tholouse, Dijon, 
 Jlcnncs, Ilouen, Aix, &c. in France ; Dublin, Edinburgh, York, \n the 
 Uritibh dominions.
 
 roruLousNEss of ancient nations. 493 
 
 sive commerce and middling empire, has perhaps ar- 
 rived 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 raxhus : You comprehend Lon- ^ 
 don, Paris, the Netherlands, the United Provinces, and 
 some of the best cultivated parts of France and Eng- 
 land. 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 ci- 
 ties, and was so stocked with riches and inhabitants. 
 
 To balance, in both periods, the states which pos- 
 sessed most art, knowledge, civihty, and the best police, 
 seems the truest method of comparison. 
 
 It is an observation of L'abbe du Bos, that ' Italy is 
 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 froze in Rome, and the ground was 
 covered with snow for forty days. Wlien Juvenal " de- 
 scribes a superstitious woman, he represents her as 
 breaking the ice of the Tyber, that she might perform 
 her ablutions : 
 
 Hybernum fracta glacie descendut in amnem, 
 Ter matutino Tyberi mergetur. 
 
 He speaks of that river's freezing as a common event. 
 Many passages of Horace sujjpose 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- 
 inar it, cfive us information sufficient to convince us, 
 that the winters are now much more temperate at Rome 
 
 t Vol. II. sec. 16. " Sat. 6. 1. 521.
 
 494 ESSAY XI. 
 
 than formerly. At present, the Tyber no more freezes 
 at Rome than the Nile at Cairo. The Romans esteem 
 tlie winters very rigorous if the snow lie two days, and 
 if one see for eight-and-forty hours a few icicles hang 
 from a fountain that has a north exposure. ' 
 
 The observation of this ingenious critic may be ex- 
 tended to other European climates. Who could dis- 
 cover the mild climate of France in Diodorus Siculus's ^ 
 description of that of Gaul ? ' As it is a northern cli- 
 mate, ' says he, ' it is 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 which, not only single travellers 
 may pass, but large armies, accompanied with all their 
 baggage and loaded waggons. And there being many 
 rivers in Caul, the Rhone, the Rhine, &c. almost all of 
 tJiem are frozen over ; and it is usual, in order to pre- 
 vent falling, to cover the ice with chaff and straw at the 
 places where the road passes. ' Colder than a Gallic 
 'uni/cr, 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. ^ 
 
 North of the Cevennes, says Strabo, "" Gaul pro- 
 duces not figs and olives : And the vines, M-hich have 
 been planted, bear not grapes that will ripen. 
 
 Ovid positively maintains, with all the serious affir- 
 mation of prose, that the Euxine Sea was frozen over 
 every winter in his time; and he appeals to Roman go- 
 vernors, whom he names, for the truth of his asser- 
 tion. ^ This seldom or never happens at present in the 
 
 ' Lib. iv. 
 
 '' De Gencrat. Anim. lilj. ii. '^ Lib. iv. 
 
 • Trist. lib. iii. flog. '.). IX- Ponto, lib. iv. cleg. 7, 9, 10.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 495 
 
 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 Petersburg!! or Stockholm. 
 
 Tournefort a Provenpcd, who had travelled into the 
 same country, observes, that there is not a finer cli- 
 mate in the world : And he asserts, that nothing but 
 Ovid's melancholy could have given him such dismal 
 ideas of it. But the facts mentioned by that poet are 
 too circumstantial to bear any such interpretation. 
 
 Polybius'' says, that the climate in Arcadia was very 
 cold, and the air moist. 
 
 * Italy, ' says Varro, " ' 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, ** 
 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 cul- 
 tivated, and that the woods are cleared, which formerly 
 threw a shade upon the earth, and kept the rays of the 
 sun from penetrating to it. Our northern colonies in 
 America become more temperate in proportion as the 
 woods are felled ' ; but, in general, every one may re- 
 mark, that cold is still much more severely felt, both in 
 
 ^ Lib. iv. cap. 21. " Lib. i. cap. 2. ^ Lib. iii. 
 
 ^ The warm southern colonies also become more healthful : And it is 
 remarkable, that in the Spanish histories of the first discovery and con- 
 quest of these countries, they appear to have been very healthful, being 
 then well peopled and cultivated. No account of the sickness or decay 
 of Cortes's or Pizarro's small amiies.
 
 496 ESSAY XI. 
 
 North and Soutli America, than in places under the 
 same latitude in Europe. 
 
 Saserna, quoted by Columella, ' affirmed, that the 
 disposition of the heavens was altered before his time, 
 and that the air had become much milder and warmer ; 
 as appears hence, says he, that many places now abound 
 with vineyards and olive plantations, which formerly, 
 by reason of the rigour of the climate, could raise none 
 of these productions. Such a change, if real, will be 
 allowed an evident sign of the better cultivation and 
 peopling of countries before the age of Saserna; ^ and 
 if it be continued to the present times, is a proof that 
 these advantages have been continually 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 com- 
 pare their past and present situation : We shall not, 
 perhaps, find ^ch foundation for the complaint of the 
 present emptiness and desolation of the world. Egypt 
 is represented by Maillet, to whom we owe the best 
 account of it, as extremely populous, though he es- 
 teems the number of its inhabitants to be diminished. 
 Syria and the Lesser Asia, as well as the coast of 
 Barbary, I can readily own to be 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 flourisliing period of 
 Greece, may be a little doubtful. The Thracians 
 seem then to liave lived like the Tartars at present. 
 
 f Lil). i. cap. 1. 
 
 •^ He seems to have lived about the time of the younger Africanus, 
 lilj. i. cnji. I.
 
 POPULOUSNESS or ANCIENT NATIONS. 497 
 
 by pasturage and plunder. '"' The Getes were still 
 more uncivilized, " and the Illyrians were no better. ' 
 These occupy nine-tenths of that country: And though 
 the government of the Turks be not very favourable 
 to industry and propagation, yet it preserves at least 
 peace and order among the inhabitants, and is prefer- 
 able 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 Sar- 
 matia 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 ouoht 
 to esteem the immense swarms of people which for- 
 merly came from the North, and overran all Europe, 
 to be any objection to this opinion. Where a whole 
 nation, or even half of it, remove their seat, it is easy 
 to imagine what a prodigious multitude they must 
 form, with what desperate valour they must make 
 their attacks, and how the terror they strike into the 
 invaded nations will make these magnify, in their ima- 
 gination, both the courage and multitude of the invad- 
 ers ! Scotland is neither extensive nor populous ; but 
 were the half of its inhabitants to seek new seats, they 
 would form a colony as numerous as the Teutons and 
 Cimbri, and would shake all Europe, supposing it in 
 no better condition for defence than formerly. 
 
 Germany has surely at present twenty times more 
 inhabitants than in ancient times, when they cultivated 
 no ground, and each tribe valued itself on the exten- 
 
 s Xenoph. Exp. lib. vii. Polyb. lib. iv. cap. 4-5. 
 
 •» Ovid, passim, &c. Strabo, lib. vii. ' Polyb. lib. ii, cap. 12. 
 
 VOL. III. II
 
 498 ESSAY xr. 
 
 sive desolation which it spread around, as we learn 
 from Citsar, ^ and Tacitus, ' and Strabo ; "' a proof 
 that the division into small republics will not alone 
 render a nation populous, unless attended with the 
 spirit of peace, order, and industry. 
 
 The barbarous condition of Britain in former times 
 is well known ; and the thinness of its inhabitants may 
 easily be conjectured, both from their barbarit}^, and 
 from a circumstance mentioned by Herodian, " that 
 all Britain was marshy, even in Severus's time, after 
 the Romans had been fully settled in it above a cen- 
 tury. 
 
 It is not easily imagined, that the Gauls were an- 
 ciently much more advanced in the arts of life than 
 their northern neighbours, since they travelled to this 
 island for their education in the mysteries of the reli- 
 gion and philosophy of the Druids. ° I cannot, there- 
 fore, think that Gaul was then near so populous as 
 France is at present. 
 
 Were we to believe, indeed, and join together, the 
 testimony of Appian, and that of Diodorus Siculus, 
 we must admit of an incredible populousness in Gaul. 
 The former historian '' says, that tiicre were 400 na- 
 tions in that country ; the latter " affirms, that the 
 largest of the Gallic nations consisted of 200,000 men, 
 besides women and children, and the least of 50,000. 
 Calculating, therefore, at a medium, we must admit of 
 near 200,000,000 of people in a country which we es- 
 teem populous at present, though supposed to contain 
 
 k De IJello Gallico, lib. vi. ' De Moribus Germ. 
 
 *" Lib. vii. " Lib. iii. cap. 47. 
 
 " Cscsar (11- I'ello Gallico, lib. vi. Strabo, lib. vii. says, tlie Gauls 
 were not much more improved than the Germans. 
 
 » Celt pars 1. "i Lib. v.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 499 
 
 little more than twenty. ' Such calculations, there- 
 fore, by their extravairance, lose all manner of autho- 
 rity. We may observe, that the equality of property, 
 to which the populousness of antiquity may be ascrib- 
 ed, had no place among the Gauls. ° Their intestine 
 wars also, before Caesar's time, were almost perpe- 
 tual. ' And Strabo " observes, that though all Gaul 
 was cultivated, yet was it not cultivated with any skill 
 or care ; the genius of the inhabitants leading them less 
 to arts than arms, till their slavery under Rome pro- 
 duced peace among themselves. 
 
 Caesar* 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 his- 
 torian tells us, that the Bellovaci could have brought a 
 hundred thousand men into the field, though they en- 
 gaged only for sixty. Taking the whole, therefore, 
 in this proportion of ten to six, the sum of fighting 
 men in all the states of Belgium was about 350,000 ; 
 all the inhabitants a million and a half. And Belijium 
 being about a fourth of Gaul, that country might con- 
 tain six millions, which is not near the third of its 
 present inhabitants. ^ We are informed by Caesar, 
 
 ' Ancient Gaul was more extensive than modern France. 
 
 " Cassar de Bello Galileo, lib. vi. * Id. ibid. 
 
 " Lib. iv. * De Bello GalUco, lib. ii. 
 
 ^ It appears from Cassar's account, that the Gauls had no domestic 
 slaves, who formed a different order from the riebca. The whole com- 
 mon people were indeed a kind of slaves to the nobility, as the people 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 tlie nobility. An army of 
 100,000 noblemen, from a very small state, is incredible. The fighting 
 men among the Helvetii were the fourth part of the inhabitants, a clear 
 
 I I 2
 
 500 ESSAY XI. 
 
 that the Gauls liad no fixed property in land ; but 
 that the chieftains, when any death happened in a fa- 
 mily, made a new division of all the lands amonfj the 
 several members of the family. This is the custom of 
 Tanistnji which so long prevailed in Ireland, and 
 which retained that country in a state of misery, bar- 
 barism, and desolation. 
 
 The ancient Helvetia w^as 250 miles in length, and 
 180 in breadth, according to the same author;* yet 
 contained only 360,000 inhabitants. The canton of 
 Berne alone has, at present, as many people. 
 
 After this computation of Appian and Diodorus Si- 
 culus, 1 know not whether I dare affirm that the mo- 
 dern Dutch are more numerous than the ancient Ba- 
 tavi. 
 
 Spain is perhaps decayed from what it was three 
 centuries ago ; but if we step backward two thousand 
 years, and consider the restless, turbulent, unsettled 
 condition of its inhabitants, we may probably be in- 
 clined to think that it is now much more populous. 
 Many Spaniards killed themselves when deprived of 
 their arms by the Romans. * It appears from Plu- 
 tarch, '' tliat robbery and plunder were esteemed ho- 
 nourable among the Spaniards. Hirtius " represents, 
 in the same light, the situation of that country in Cae- 
 sar's time ; and he says, that every man was obliged to 
 
 proof that all the males of military age bore arms. Sec Ccosar de Bella 
 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 
 tl)e Greek translation, which still remains, and which checks the Latin 
 original. 
 
 ' De Bcllo Gallico, lib. i. =" Titi Livii, lib. xxxiv. cap. 17. 
 
 '' In vita Marii. "^ De Bello Hisp.
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 501 
 
 live in castles and walled towns for his security. It 
 was not till its final conquest under Augustus that 
 these disorders were repressed. " The account which 
 Strabo ^ and Justin ^ give of Spain corresponds exact- 
 ly with those above mentioned. How much, there- 
 fore, must it diminish from our idea of the populous- 
 ness of antiquity, when we find that Tully, comparing 
 Italy, Africa, Gaul, Greece, and Spain, mentions the 
 great number of inhabitants as the peculiar circum- 
 stance which rendered this latter country formidable ? 
 
 Italy, however, it is probable, has decaj'ed : But 
 how many great cities does it still contain ? Venice, 
 Genoa, Pavia, Turin, Milan, Naples, Florence, Leg- 
 horn, which either subsisted not in ancient times, or 
 were then very inconsiderable ? If we reflect on this, 
 we shall not be apt to carry matters to so great an ex- 
 treme as is usual with regard to this subject. 
 
 When the Roman authors complain that Italy, 
 which formerly exported corn, became dependent on 
 all the provinces for its daily bread, they never ascribe 
 this alteration to the increase of its inhabitants, but to 
 the neglect of tillage and agriculture ; " a natural ef- 
 fect of that pernicious practice of importing corn, in 
 order to distz'ibute it gratis among the Roman citi- 
 zens, and a very bad means of multiplying the inhabi- 
 
 Veil. Paterc. lib. ii. § 90. « Lib. iii f Lib. xliv. 
 
 ^ < Nee nuraero Hispanos, nee robore Gallos, nee callidate Poenos, 
 nee artibus Gra-cos, nee dcnique hoc ipso hujus gentis, ac terra; domes- 
 
 tico nativoque sensu, Italos ipsos ac Latinos superavimus. ' De 
 
 Harusp. Resp. cap. 9. The disorders of Spain seem to have been al- 
 most provf rbial : < Nee impacatos a tergo horrebis Iberos. ' Virg. Georg. 
 lib. iii. The Iberi are here plainly taken, by a poetical figure, for rob- 
 bers in general. 
 
 " Varro De Re Rustica, lib. ii. praf. Columella pra;f. Sueton. 
 August, cap. 42.
 
 502 ESSAY XI. 
 
 tants of any country, i The sjwr tula, so much talked 
 of by Martial and Juvenal, beinfr presents regularly 
 made by the great lords to their smaller clients, must 
 have liad a like tendency to produce idleness, debau- 
 chery, 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 inha- 
 bitants 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, set- 
 tled almost m a profound peace, both foreign and do- 
 mestic, and living under the same regular police and 
 government. "^ But we are told that all extensive go- 
 
 * Though the observations of L'Abbe du Bos should be admitted, that 
 Italy is now wanner than in former times, the consequence may not be 
 necessary, 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. 
 
 ' The inhabitants of 3Iarseilles lost not their superiority over the 
 Gauls in commerce and the mechanic arts, till the Roman dominion 
 turned the latter from anns to agriculture and civil life, see Strabo, lib. 
 iv. Tliat author, in several places, repeats 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 I'liny : ♦ Quis enim non, communicato orbe terrarum, majestate 
 Romani imperii, profecisse vitam putet, commercio rerum ac societate 
 fcsto! pacis, omniaque etiam, qua; occulta antea fuerant, in promiscuo 
 usu facta. Lib. xiv. proocm. Numine deum electa (speaking of Italy) 
 qua; ca-lum ipsum clarius faceret, sparsa congregaret impcria, ritusque 
 molliret, et tot populorum discordes, ferasque linguas sermonis com- 
 mercio contraheret ad colloquia, et humanitatem humini daret; breviter- 
 que, una cunctarum gentium in toto orbe patria fieret, ' lib. ii. cap. 5. 
 Nothing can Ijc stronger to this puqiose than the following passage from 
 Tertullian, wlio lived alx)ut the age of Severus. ' Certe quidem ipse 
 orbib in promptu est, cultior de die ct instructior pristino. Omnia jam
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 503 
 
 vernments, especially absolute monarchies, are perni- 
 cious to population, and contain a secret vice and poi- 
 son, which destroy the effect of all these promising 
 
 pervia, omnia iiota, omnia negotiosa. Solitudines famosas retro fundi 
 amoenissimi obliteraverunt, silvas arva domuerunt, feras pecora fugave- 
 runt ; arena; seruntur, saxa panguntur, paliides eliquantur, tantae urbes, 
 quanta; non casa; quondam. Jam nee insula; horrent, ncc scopuli ter- 
 rent ; ubique domus, ubique populus, ubique respublica, ubique vita. 
 Summum testimonium frequentias humaniE, onerosi sumus mundo, vix 
 nobis elementa sufficiunt ; et necessitates arctiores, et querela; apud 
 omnes, dum jam nos natura non sustinet. ' De anima, cap. 30. The 
 air of rhetoric and declamation which appears in this passage diminishes 
 somewhat from its authority, but does not entirely destroy it. The 
 same remark may be extended to the following passage of Aristides the 
 sophist, who lived in the age of Adrian. ' The whole world, ' says he, 
 addressing himself to the Romans, * seems to keep one holiday ; and 
 mankind, laying aside the sword which they formerly wore, now betake 
 themselves to feasting and to joy. The cities, forgetting their ancient 
 animosities, preserve only one emulation, which shall embellish itself 
 most by every art and ornament : Theatres every where arise, amplii- 
 theatres, porticos, aqueducts, temples, schools, academies j and one may 
 safely pronounce, that the sinking world has been again raised by your 
 auspicious empire. Nor have cities alone received an increase of orna- 
 ment and beauty ; but the whole earth, like a garden or paradise, is cul- 
 tivated 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 sym- 
 pathy and compassion. ' 
 
 It is remai'kable, that though Diodorus Siculus makes the inhabitants 
 of Egypt, when conquered by the Romans, amount only to three mil- 
 lions, yet Joseph, dc Hello Jiul. 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 expressly 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 Athenfeus (lib. i. cap. 25.), who flourished during the rei^n of 
 the Antonines, that the town Mareia, near Alexandria, which was for- 
 merly a large city, had dwindled into a village. This is not, properly 
 speaking, a contradiction. Siiidas (August.) says, that tlie Emperor
 
 601. ESSAY XI. 
 
 appearances. ' To confirm this, there is a passage 
 cited from Plutarcli, "' which, being somewhat singu- 
 lar, we shall here examine it. 
 
 That author, endeavouring to account for the si- 
 lence of many of the oracles, says, that it may be 
 ascribed to the present desolation of the world, pro- 
 ceeding from former wars and factions ; which com- 
 mon calamity, he adds, has fallen heavier upon Greece 
 than on any other country, insomuch that the whole 
 could scarcely at present furnish three thousand war- 
 riors ; a number which, in the time of the Median 
 war, was supplied by the single city of Megara. The 
 gods, therefore, who affect works of dignity and im- 
 portance, 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 
 difficulties, 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 seve- 
 ral states, all which were quieted by the Roman arms. 
 Plutarch's reasoning, therefore, is directly contrary to 
 the inference which is drawn from the fact he ad- 
 vances. 
 
 Polybius supposes that Greece had become more 
 prosperous and flourishing after the establishment of 
 
 Augustus, Iiiivin^ numbered the wliole Roman empire, found it con- 
 tained only }-,l()],(Jl7 men (avSpif). 'I'liere is here surely some great 
 mistake, either in the author or transcriber. But this authority, feeble 
 as it is, may be sufficient to counterljalance the exaggerated accounts of 
 Herodotus and Diodorus Siculus with regard to more early times. 
 
 ■ L'Esprit du Loix, )iv. xxiii. chap. 19. '" De Orac. Defectus.
 
 POrULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 505 
 
 the Roman yoke ; " and thoufrh that historian wrote 
 before these conquerors had degenerated, from being 
 the patrons to be the phnulerers of mankind, yet as we 
 find from Tacitus, " that the severity of the emperors 
 afterwards corrected the hcense of tiie governors, we 
 have no reason to think that extensive monarchy so 
 destructive as it is often represented. 
 
 We learn from Strabo ^ 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. "^ How, 
 therefore, can we imagine that the Roman yoke was 
 so burdensome over that part of the Vrorld ? The op- 
 pression of the proconsuls was checked ; and the ma- 
 gistracies in Greece being all bestowed, in the several 
 cities, by the free votes of the people, there was no ne- 
 cessity for the competitors to attend the emperor's 
 court. If o-reat numbers went to seek their fortunes 
 in Rome, and advance themselves by learning or elo- 
 quence, the commodities of their native country, many 
 of them would return with the fortunes which they had 
 acquired, and thereby enrich the Grecian common- 
 wealths. 
 
 But Plutarch says that the general depopulation had 
 been more sensibly felt in Greece than in any other 
 
 " Lib. ii. cap. 62. It may perhaps be imagined, that Polybius, being 
 dependent on Rome, would naturally extol the Roman dominion. But, 
 in the Jirst place, Polybius, tliough one sees sometimes instances of his 
 caution, discovers no symptoms of flattery. Secondly, This opinion is 
 only delivered in a single stroke, by the by, while he is intent upon an- 
 other subject ; and it is allowed, if there be any suspicion of an author's 
 insincerity, that these oblique propositions discover his real opinion 
 better than his more formal and direct assertions. 
 
 " Annal. lib. 1. cap. 2. ^ Lib. viii. and ix. 
 
 '' riutarch. De his (]ui scro a Numine puniuatur.
 
 506 ESSAY XI. 
 
 country. How is this reconcileable to its superior pri- 
 vile»;es and advantaijes ? 
 
 Besides, this passage, by proving too much, really 
 proves nothing. Ouhj ihree thousand me7i able to hear 
 arms in all Greece! Who can admit so strange a 
 propositioji, especially if we consider the great num- 
 ber of Greek cities, whose names still remain in his- 
 tory, and which are mentioned by writers long after 
 the age of Plutarch ? There are there surely ten 
 times more people at present, when there scarcely re- 
 mains a city in all the bounds of ancient Greece. 
 That country is still tolerably cultivated, and furnishes 
 a sure supply of corn, in case of any scarcity in Spain, 
 Italy, or the south of France. 
 
 We may observe, that the ancient frugality of the 
 Greeks, and their equality of property, still subsisted 
 during the age of Plutarch, as appears from Lucian. ' 
 Nor is there any ground to imagine, that the country 
 was possessed by a fev/ masters, and a great number 
 of slaves. 
 
 It is probable, indeed, that military discipline, being 
 entirely useless, was extremely neglected in Greece 
 after the establishment of the Roman empire; and if 
 these commonwealths, formerly so warlike and ambi- 
 tious, maintained each of them a small city guard, to 
 prevent mobbish disorders, it is all they had occasion 
 for ; and these, perhaps, did not amount to 3000 men 
 throughout all Greece. I own, that if Plutarch had 
 this fact in his eye, he is here guilty of a gross paralo- 
 gism, and assigns causes nowise proportioned to the 
 efiects. But is it so great a prodigy that an author 
 siiould fall into a mistake of this nature? ' 
 
 ' l)c mtrcfde condiictis. 
 
 ' I mufit coiifcbb that that (Ji^courbf of Plutarch, tonteming the silence
 
 POPULOUSNESS OF ANCIENT NATIONS. 50T 
 
 But whatever force may remain in this passage of 
 Plutarch, we shall endeavour to counterbalance it by 
 as remarkable a passage in Diodorus Siculus, where 
 the historian, after mentioning Ninus's army of 
 1,700,000 foot, and 200,000 horse, endeavours to sup- 
 port 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. * Thus an author, who lived at that very pe- 
 
 of the oracles, is in general of so odd a texture and so unlike his otiier 
 productions, that one is at a loss what judgment to form of it. It is 
 written in dialogue, which is a method of composition that Plutarch 
 commonly but little affects. Tlic personages he introduces advance very 
 wild, absurd, and contradictory opinions, more like the visionary sys- 
 tems or ravings of Plato, than the plain sense of Plutarch. There runs 
 also through the whole an air of superstition and credulity, which re- 
 sembles very little the spirit that appears in other philosophical composi- 
 tions of that author. For it is remarkable, that though Plutarch be an 
 historian as superstitious as Herodotus or Livy, yet there is scarcely, in 
 all antiquity, a philosopher less superstitious, excepting Cicero and 
 Lucian. I must therefore confess, that a passage of Plutarch, cited from 
 this discourse, has much less authority with me, than if it had been found 
 in most of his other compositions. 
 
 There is only one other discourse of Plutarch liable to like objections, 
 to wit, that concerning those whoso puniskvient is delayed by the Deity. It 
 is also writ in dialogue, contains like superstitious, wild visions, and 
 seems to have been chiefly composed in rivalship to Plato, particularly 
 liis last book De Erjmblica. 
 
 And here I cannot but observe, that Mons. Fontenelle, a writer emi- 
 nent for candour, seems to have departed a little from his usual charac- 
 ter, when he endeavours to throw a ridicule upon Plutarch 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 ascribed to Plutarch. He makes them refute each other; and, ih 
 general, he seems to intend the ridiculing of those very opinions which 
 Fontenelle would ridicule him for maintaining. — See Histoire det 
 Oracles. 
 
 ^ Lib. ii.
 
 508 ESSAY XI. 
 
 riod of antujulty which is represented as most popu- 
 lous, " coniphiins of the desolation which then prevail- 
 ed, gives the preference to former times, and has re- 
 course to ancient fables as a foundation for his opi- 
 nion. The humour of blaming the present, and ad- 
 miring the past, is strongly rooted in human nature, 
 ^ and has an influence even on persons endued with the 
 profoundcst judgment and most extensive learning. 
 
 " He was contemporary with Caesar and Augustus.
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 509 
 
 ESSAY XII. 
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 
 
 As no party, in the present age, can well support 
 itself without a philosophical or speculative system of 
 principles annexed to its political or practical one, we 
 accordingly find, that each of the factions into which this 
 nation is divided has reared up a fabric of the former 
 kind, in order to protect and cover that scheme of actions 
 which it pursues. The people being commonly very 
 rude builders, especially in this speculative way, and 
 more especially still when actuated by party zeal, it is 
 natural to imagine that their workmanship must be a 
 little unshapely, and discover evident marks of that 
 violence and hurry in which it was raised. The one 
 party, by tracing up government to the Deity, endea- 
 vour to render it so sacred and inviolate, that it must 
 be little less than sacrilege, however tyrannical it may 
 become, to touch or invade it in the smallest article. 
 The other party, by founding government altogether 
 on the consent of the people, suppose that there is a 
 kind of origijial contract, by which the subjects have 
 tacitly reserved the power of resisting their sovereign,
 
 510 ESSAY XII. 
 
 whenever they find tliemselves aggrieved by that autho- 
 rity with which they liave, for certain purposes, volun- 
 tiirily intrusted him. These are the specuhitive prin- 
 ciples of the two parties, and these, too, are the prac- 
 tical consequences deduced from them. 
 
 I shall venture to afiirm, Tliat both these systems qf 
 spcadalive 2»incij)les are just, though not in the setise 
 intended bi/ the parties : And, IViat both the schemes qf 
 jiractical consequences are prudent, though not in the 
 ext roues to lihich each party, in opposition to the other ^ 
 lias commonli) endeavoured to carry them. 
 
 That the Deitj'^ is the ultimate author of all govern- 
 ment, will never be denied by any, who admit a gene- 
 ral providence, and allow, that all events in the uni- 
 verse are conducted by an uniform plan, and directed 
 to wise purposes. As it is impossible for the human 
 race to subsist, at least in any comfortable or secure 
 state, without tlie protection of government, this insti- 
 tution must certainly have been intended by that bene- 
 ficent Being, who means the good of all his creatures : 
 And as it has universally, in fact, taken place in all 
 countries, and all ages, we may conclude, with still 
 greater certainty, that it was intended by that omni- 
 scient Being, who can never be deceived by any event 
 or operation. But since he gave rise to it, not by any 
 particular or miraculous interposition, but by his con- 
 cealed and universal ellicacy, a sovereign cannot, pro- 
 perly speaking, be called his vicegerent in any other 
 sense than every power or force, being derived from 
 Iiim, may be said to act by his commission. Whatever 
 actually liappens is comprehended in the general plan 
 or intention of Providence; nor has the greatest and 
 most lawful prince anymore reason, upon that account, 
 to plead a peculiar sacredness or inviolable authority.
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 511 
 
 than an inferior magistrate, or even an usurper, or even 
 a robber and a pirate. The same Divine Superintendant, 
 who, for wise purposes, invested a Titus or a Trajan 
 with authority, did also, for purposes no doubt equally 
 wise, though unknown, bestow power on a Borgia or 
 an Angria. The same causes, which gave rise to the 
 sovereign power in every state, established likewise 
 every petty jurisdiction in it, and every limited authori- 
 ty. A constable, therefore, no less than a king, acts by 
 a divine commission, and possesses an indefeasible 
 right. 
 
 Wlien we consider how nearly equal all men are in 
 their bodily force, and even in their mental powers and 
 faculties, till cultivated by education, we must neces- 
 sarily allow, that nothing but their own consent could 
 at first associate them together, and subject them to 
 any authority. The people, if we trace government to 
 its first origin in the woods and deserts, are the source 
 of all power and jurisdiction, and voluntarily, for the 
 sake of peace and order, abandoned their native liberty, 
 and received laws from their equal and companion. 
 The conditions upon which they were willing to sub- 
 mit, were either expressed, or were so clear and obvi- 
 ous, that it might well be esteemed superfluous to ex- 
 press them. If this, then, be meant by the original 
 contract^ it cannot be denied, that all government is, at 
 first, founded on a contract, and that the most ancient 
 rude combinations of mankind were formed chiefly by 
 that principle. In vain are we asked in what records 
 this charter of our liberties is registered. It was not 
 written on parchment, nor yet on leaves or barks of 
 trees. It preceded the use of writing, and all the other 
 civilized arts of life. But we trace it plainly in the na- 
 ture of man J and in the equality, or something approach-
 
 512 ESSAY xn. 
 
 ing equality, which we find in all the individuals of that 
 species. The force, which now prevails, and which is 
 founded on fleets and armies, is plainly political, and 
 derived from authoritv, the effect of established so- 
 vernment. A man's natural force consists only in the 
 vigour of his limbs, and the firmness 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 
 chieftain, who had probably acquired his influence dur- 
 ing the continuance of war, ruled more by persuasion 
 than command ; and till he could employ force to re- 
 duce the refractory and disobedient, the society could 
 scarcely be said to have attained a state of civil govern- 
 ment. No compact or agreement, it is evident, was 
 expressly formed for general submission ; an idea far 
 beyond the comprehension of savages : Each exertion 
 of authority in the chieftain must have been particular, 
 and called forth by the present exigencies of the case : 
 The sensible utility, resulting from his interposition, 
 made these exertions become daily more frequent ; and 
 their frequency gradually produced an habitual, and, 
 if you please to call it so, a voluntary, and therefore 
 precarious, acquiescence in the people. 
 
 But j)liilosopliers who have embraced a party (if 
 that be not a contradiction in terms), are not contented 
 with these concessions. Tliey assert, not only that 
 government in its earliest infancy arose from consent, 
 or rath( r ilie voluntary acquiescence of the people; but 
 also that, even at present, when it has attained its full 
 maturity, it rests on no other foundation. They affirm.
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 513 
 
 that all men are still born equal, and owe allegiance to 
 no prince or government, unless bound by the obliga- 
 tion and sanction o( a ])ro7nisc. And as no man, with- 
 out some equivalent, would forego the advantages of 
 his native liberty, and subject himself to the will of an- 
 other, this promise is always understood to be condi- 
 tional, and imposes on him no obligation, unless he 
 meet with justice and protection from his sovereign. 
 These advantages the sovereign promises him in return ; 
 and if he foil in the execution, he has broken, on his 
 part, the articles of engagement, and has thereby freed 
 his subject from all obligations to allegiance. Such, 
 according to these philosophers, is the foundation of 
 authority in every government, and such the right of 
 resistance possessed by every subject. 
 
 But would these reasoners look abroad into the 
 world, they would meet with nothing that, in the least, 
 corresponds to their ideas, or can warrant so refined 
 and philosophical a system. On the contrary, we find 
 every where princes who claim their subjects as their 
 property, and assert their independent right of sove- 
 reignty, from conquest or succession. We find also 
 every where subjects who acknowledge this right in 
 their prince, and suppose themselves born under obli- 
 gations of obedience to a certain sovereign, as much as 
 under the ties of reverence and duty to certain parents. 
 These connexions are always conceived to be equally 
 independent of our consent, in Persia and China, in 
 France and Spain, and even in Holland and England, 
 wherever the doctrines above mentioned have not been 
 carefully inculcated. Obedience or subjection becomes 
 so fomiliar, that most men never make any inquiry a- 
 bout its origin or cause, more than about the principle 
 of gravity, resistance, or the most universal laws of na- 
 
 VOL. III. K K
 
 511- ESSAY XII. 
 
 ture. Or if curiosity ever move tliem, as soon as they 
 learn that they themselves and their ancestors have, 
 for several ages, or from time immemorial, been sub- 
 ject to such a form of government or such a family, 
 they immediately acquiesce, and acknowledge their ob- 
 ligation to allegiance. Were you to preach, in most 
 parts of the world, that political connexions are found- 
 ed altogether on voluntary 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 ab- 
 surdities. 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 me- 
 mory of it. 
 
 But the contract, on which government is founded, 
 is said to be the original contract ,- and consequently 
 may be supposed too old to fall under the knowledge 
 of the present generation. If the agreement, by which 
 savage men first associated and conjoined their force, 
 be here meant, this is acknowledged to be real ; but 
 being so ancient, and being obliterated by a thousand 
 changes of government and princes, it cannot now be 
 supposed to retain any authority. If we would say 
 any thing to the purpose, we must assert, that every 
 particular government which is lawful, and which im- 
 poses any duty of allegiance on the subject, was, at first, 
 founded on consent and a voluntary compact. But, 
 besides ti)at 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.
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 515 
 
 I say, it is not justified by history or experience in any 
 age or country of the world. 
 
 Ahnost all the governments which exist at present, 
 or of which there remains any record in story, have 
 been founded originally, either on usurpation or con- 
 quest, 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 fac- 
 tion, it is often easy for him, by employing, sometimes 
 violence, sometimes false pretences, to establish his do- 
 minion over a people a hundred times more numerous 
 than his partisans. He allows no such open commu- 
 nication, 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 fiill ; but their ignorance of each other's in- 
 tention keeps them in awe, and is the sole cause of his 
 security. By such arts as these many governments 
 have been established ; and this is all the original con- 
 tract 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 
 dissolution of great empires into smaller kingdoms, by 
 the planting of colonies, by the migration of tribes. Is 
 there any thing discoverable in all these events but force 
 and violence? Where is the mutual agreement or vo- 
 luntary association so much talked of? 
 
 Even the smoothest way by which a nation may re- 
 ceive a foreign master, by marriage or a will, is not ex- 
 tremely honourable for the people ; but supposes them 
 to be disposed of hke a dowry or a legacy, according to 
 the pleasure or interest of their rulers. 
 
 But where no force interposes, and election takes 
 
 K k2
 
 516 ESSAY xir. 
 
 place ; what is this election so highly vaunted ? It is 
 either the combination of a few great men, who decide 
 for the whole, and will allow of no opposition ; or it is 
 the fury of a multitude, that follow a seditious ring- 
 leader, who is not knoMU, jierhaps, to a dozen among 
 them, and who owes his advancement merely to his 
 own impudence, or to the momentary caprice of his 
 iiillows. 
 
 Are these disorderly elections, which are rare too, of 
 such mighty authority as to be the only lawful founda- 
 tion of all government and alleijiance ? 
 
 In reality there is not a more terrible event than a 
 total dissolution of government, which gives liberty to 
 the multitude, and makes the determination or choice 
 of a new establishment depend upon a number, which 
 nearly a}-)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 speed- 
 ily 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 goverimient, as to imagine all others mon- 
 sti'ous and irregular. 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 go- 
 vernment, 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,
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 517 
 
 to their choice ? Was it not justly supposed to be, from 
 tlmt moment, decided, and every man punished, who 
 refused to submit to the new sovereign ? How other- 
 wise could the matter have ever been brought to any 
 issue or conclusion ? 
 
 The republic of Athens was, I believe, the most ex- 
 tensive 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 es- 
 tablishment was not at first made, nor any law ever vot- 
 ed, by a tenth part of those who were bound to pay obe- 
 dience to it ; not to mention the islands and foreign do- 
 minions, which the Athenians claimed as theirs by 
 right of conquest. And as it is well known that popu- 
 lar assemblies in that city were always full of license 
 and disorder, notwithstanding the institutions and laws 
 by which they were checked; how much more disor- 
 derly must they prove, where they form not the esta- 
 blished constitution, but meet tumultuously on the dis- 
 solution 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 Achagans enjoyed the freest and most perfect 
 democracy of all antiquity ; yet they employed force to 
 oblige some cities to enter into their league, as we learn 
 from Polybius. * 
 
 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 
 foundation of all authority be consent and promise ? 
 
 It is in vain to say that all governments are, or should 
 
 ^ Lib. ii. cap. 38.
 
 518 ESSAY xir. 
 
 be, at first founded on popular consent, as mucli as the 
 necessity of human ailairs will admit. This favours en- 
 tirely my pretension. I maintain, that human affairs 
 will never admit of this consent, seldom of the appear- 
 ance of it; but that conquest or usurpation, that is, in 
 plain terms, force, by dissolving the ancient govern- 
 ments, is the oriijin of almost all the new ones which 
 were ever established in the world. And that in the 
 few cases where consent may seem to have taken place, 
 it was commonly so irregular, so confined, or so much 
 intermixed either with fraud or violence, that it cannot 
 have any great authority. 
 
 My intention here is not to exclude the consent of 
 the people from being one just foundation of govern- 
 ment. Where it has place, it is surely the best and 
 most sacred of any. 1 only contend, that it has very 
 seldom had place in any degree, and never almost in 
 its full extent ; and that, therefore, some other founda- 
 tion of government must also be admitted. 
 
 Were all men possessed of so inflexible a regard to 
 justice, that of themselves they would totally abstain 
 from the properties of others ; they had for ever re- 
 mained in a state of absolute liberty, without sub- 
 jection to any magistrate or political society: But this 
 is a state of perfection of which human nature is justly 
 deemed incapable. Again, were all men possessed of 
 so perfect an understanding as always to know their own 
 interests, no form of government had ever been submit- 
 ted 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 supei'ior to 
 liuman nature. Reason, history, and experience show 
 us, that all political societies have had an origin much 
 less accurate and regular ; and were one to choose a pe-
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTHACT. 519 
 
 riod of time when the people's consent was the least 
 regarded in public transactions, it would be precisely 
 on the establishment of a new government. In a set- 
 tled constitution their inclinations are often consulted ; 
 but during the fury of revolutions, conquests and pub- 
 lic convulsions, military force or political craft usually 
 decides the controversy. 
 
 When a new government is established, by whatever 
 means, the people are commonly dissatisfied with it, 
 and pay obedience more from fear and necessity, than 
 from any idea of allegiance or of moral obligation. 
 The prince is watchful and jealous, and must carefully 
 guard against every beginning or appearance of insur- 
 rection. Time, by degrees, removes all these difficulties, 
 and accustoms the nation to regard, as their lawful or 
 native princes, that family which at first they consider- 
 ed as usurpers or foreign conquerors. In order to 
 found this opinion, they have no recourse to any no- 
 tion of voluntary consent or promise, which, they know, 
 never was, in this case, either expected or demanded. 
 The original establishment was formed by violence, and 
 submitted to from necessity. The subsequent admini- 
 stration is also supported by power, and acquiesced in 
 b}'^ the people, not as a matter of choice, but of obli- 
 gation. They imagine not that their consent gives their 
 prince a title : But they willingly consent, because they 
 think, that, from long possession, he has acquired a 
 title, independent of their choice or inclination. 
 
 Should it be said, that, by living under the dominion 
 of a prince which one might leave, every individual 
 has given a tacit consent to his authority, and promis- 
 ed him obedience ; it may be answered, that such an 
 implied consent can only have place where a man ima- 
 gines that the matter depends on his choice. But
 
 520 ESSAY XII. 
 
 where he thinks (as all mankind do who are born un- 
 der established governments) that, by his birth, he owes 
 allegiance to a certain prince or certain form of govern- 
 ment ; it would be absurd to infer a consent or choice, 
 which he expressly, in this case, renounces and dis- 
 claims. 
 
 Can we seriously say, that a poor peasant or artisan 
 has a free choice to leave his country, when he knows 
 no foreign 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 ves- 
 sel, freely consents to the dominion of the master ; 
 though he was carried on board while asleep, and must 
 leap into the ocean and perish, the moment he leaves 
 her. 
 
 What if the prince forbid his subjects to quit his 
 dominions; as in Tiberius's time, it was regarded as a 
 crime in a Roman knight that he had attempted to fly 
 to the Parthians, in order to escape the tyranny of that 
 emperor ? '' Or as the ancient Muscovites prohibited 
 all travelling under pain of death ? And did a prince 
 observe, that many of his subjects were seized with the 
 frenzy of migrating to foreign countries, he would, 
 doubtless, with great reason and justice, restrain them, 
 in order to prevent the depopulation of his own king- 
 dom. Would he forfeit the allegiance of all his sub- 
 jects by so wise and reasonable a law ? Yet the free- 
 dom 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, 
 miLclit dream of recovering their native freedom, but 
 
 y Tacit. Ann. lib. vi. cap. 1 U
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 521 
 
 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 con- 
 formably to the common ideas of mankind. 
 
 The truest tacit consent of this kind that is ever ob- 
 served, is when a foreigner settles in any country, and 
 is beforehand acquainted with the prince, and govern- 
 ment, and laws, to which he must submit : Yet is his 
 allegiance, though more voluntary, much less expect- 
 ed or depended on, than that of a natural born sub- 
 ject. 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 his new prince's com- 
 mission ; this clemency is not founded on the municipal 
 law, which in all countries condemns the prisoner ; 
 but on the consent of princes, who have agreed to this 
 indulgence, in order to prevent reprisals. 
 
 Did one generation of men go off the stage at once, 
 and another succeed, as is the case with silk worms 
 and butterflies, 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 con- 
 sent, establish their own form of civil polity, without 
 any regard to the laws or precedents which prevailed 
 among their ancestors. But as human society is in 
 perpetual flux, one man every hour going out of the 
 world, another coming into it, it is necessary, in order 
 to preserve stability in government, that the new brood 
 should conform themselves to the established constitu- 
 tion, and nearly follow the path which their fathers, 
 treading in the footsteps of theirs, had marked out to 
 them. Some innovations must necessarily have place 
 in every human institution ; and it is happy where the 
 enlightened genius of the age give these a direction to
 
 522 ESSAY xir. 
 
 the siile of reason, liberty, and justice : But violent 
 iiuiovations no individual is entitled to make : They 
 are even dangerous to be attempted by the legislature : 
 More ill than good is ever to be expected from them ; 
 And if history affords examples to the contrary, they 
 are not to be drawn into precedent, and are only to 
 be regarded as proofs, that the science of politics af- 
 fords few rules, which will not admit of some excep- 
 tion, and which may not sometimes be controlled by 
 fortune and accident. The violent innovations in the 
 reign of Henry .VIII. proceeded from an imperious 
 monarch, seconded by the appearance of legislative 
 authority : Those in the reign of Charles I. were de- 
 rived from faction and fanaticism ; and both of them 
 have proved happy in the issue. But even the former 
 were long the source of many disorders, and still more 
 danfjers ; and if the measures of allcijiance were to be 
 taken from the latter, a total anarchy must have place 
 in human society, and a final period at once be put to 
 every government. 
 
 Suppose that an usurper, after having banished his 
 lawful prince and royal i'amily, should establish his do- 
 minion for ten or a dozen years in any country, and 
 should preserve so exact a discipline in his troops, 
 and so regular a disposition in his garrisons, that no 
 insurrection had ever been raised, or even murmur 
 heard aijainst his administration : Can it be asserted 
 tliat the people, who in their hearts abhor his treason, 
 have tacitly consented to his authority, and promised 
 him allegiance, merely because, from necessity, they 
 live under his dominion? Suppose again their native 
 prince restored, by means of an army, which he levies 
 in foreign countries : They receive him with joy and 
 exultation, and show plainly with what reluctance they
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 523 
 
 had submitted to any other yoke. I may now ask, 
 upon what foundation the prince's title stands ? Not on 
 popuhir consent surely : For though the people wil- 
 lingly 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 tacit consent, which 
 may now be inferred from their living under his do- 
 minion, this is no more than what they formerly gave 
 to the tyrant and usurper. 
 
 When we assert that all lawful government arises 
 from the consent of the people, we certainly do them 
 a great deal more honour than they deserve, or even 
 expect and desire from us. After the Roman domini- 
 ons became too unwieldy for the republic to govern 
 them, the people over the whole known world were ex- 
 tremely grateful to Augustus for that authority which, 
 by violence, he had established over them ; and they 
 showed an equal disposition to submit to the successor 
 whom he left them by his last will and testament. It was 
 afterwards their misfortune, that there never was, in 
 one family, any long regular succession ; but that their 
 line of princes was continually broken, either by pri- 
 vate assassinations or public rebellions. The prceto- 
 rinn bands, on the failure of every family, set up one 
 emperor ; the legions in the East a second ; those in 
 Germany, perhaps, a third ; and the sword alone could 
 decide the controversy. The condition of the people 
 in that mighty monarchy was to be lamented, not be- 
 cause the choice of the emperor was never left to them, 
 for that was impracticable, but because they never fell 
 under any succession of masters who might regularly 
 follow each other. As to the violence, and wars, and
 
 5r2I. ESSAY xir. 
 
 bloodslied, occasioned by every new settlement, these 
 were not blameable, because 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 establish- 
 ment has taken place during a still longer period. 
 Have all views of right in another family been utterly ' 
 extinguished, even though scarce any man now alive 
 had arrived at the years of discretion when it was ex- 
 pelled, or could have consented to its dominion, or 
 have promised it allegiance? — a sufficient indication, 
 surely, of the general sentiment of mankind on this 
 head. For we blame not the partisans of the abdicat- 
 ed family merely on account of the long time during 
 v.hich they have preserved their imaginary loyalty. 
 We blame them for adhering to a family which we af- 
 firm has been justly expelled, and which, from the 
 moment the new settlement took place, had forfeited 
 all title to authorit}'. 
 
 But would we have a more regular, at least a more 
 philosophical refutation of this principle of an original 
 contract, or popular consent, perhaps the following 
 observations may suffice. 
 
 All moral duties may be divided into two kinds. 
 The^/,s^ arc those to which men are impelled by a na- 
 tural instinct or immediate propensity which operates 
 on them, independent of all ideas of obligation, and of 
 all views either to public or private utility. Of this 
 nature are love of children, gratitude to benefactors, 
 pity to the unfortunate. When we reflect on the ad- 
 vantage which results to society from such humane in- 
 stincts, we pay tliem the just tribute of moral approba- 
 tion and esteem : But the person actuated by them
 
 OF THE OniGINAL CONTRACT. 525 
 
 feels their power and influence antecedent to any such 
 reflection. 
 
 The second kind of moral duties are such as are not 
 supported by any original instinct of nature, but are 
 performed entirely from a sense of obligation, when we 
 consider the necessities of human society, and the im- 
 possibility of supporting it, if these duties were ne- 
 glected. It is thus justice, or a regard to the proper- 
 ty of others, Jidelitij, or the observance of promises, 
 become obligatory, and acquire an authority over man- 
 kind. For as it is evident that every man loves him- 
 self better than any other person, he is naturally im- 
 pelled to extend his acquisitions as much as possible ; 
 and nothing can restrain him in this propensity but re- 
 flection and experience, by which he learns the perni- 
 cious eifects of that license, and the total dissolution of 
 society which must ensue from it. His original incli- 
 nation, therefore, or instinct, is here checked and re- 
 strained by a subsequent judgment or observation. 
 
 The case is precisely the same with the political or 
 civil duty of allegiance as with the natural duties of 
 justice and fidelity. Our primary instincts lead us ei- 
 ther to indulge ourselves in unlimited freedom, or to 
 seek dominion over others ; and it is reflection only 
 which engages us to sacrifice such strong passions to 
 tlie interests of peace and public order. A small dc- 
 gi'ee of experience and observation suffices to teach 
 us, that society cannot possibly be maintained without 
 the authority of magistrates, and that this authority 
 must soon fall into contempt where exact obedience is 
 not paid to it. The observation of these general and 
 obvious interests is the source of all allegiance, and of 
 that moral obligation which we attribute to it.
 
 526 ESSAY xir. 
 
 What necessity, therefore, is there to found the du- 
 ty of allcgia?icCi or obedience to magistrates, on tliat of 
 jiddity^ or a regard to promises, and to suppose that it 
 is the consent of each indivi(kial 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 
 apjiarent interests and necessities of human society ? 
 \\'e are bound to obey our sovereign, it is said, be- 
 cause 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 inter- 
 course 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 prevent the encroachments of the strong up- 
 on the weak, of the violent upon the just and equi- 
 table. The obligation to allegiance being of like force 
 and authority with the obligation to fidelity, we gain 
 nothing by resolving the one into the other. The ge- 
 neral interests or necessities of society are sufficient to 
 establish both. 
 
 If the reason be asked of that obedience which we 
 are bound to pay to government, I readily answer. 
 Because society could not otherwise subsist ,• and this an- 
 swer is clear and intelligible to all mankind. Your 
 answer is. Because ive should keep our isoord. But be- 
 sides that nobody, till trained in a philosophical sys- 
 tem, can either comprehend or relish this answer ; be- 
 sides this, I say, you find yourself embarrassed when 
 it is asked, Whij nsoe are hound to Iceep our "word? Nor
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTllACT. 527 
 
 can you give any answer but what would immediately, 
 without any circuit, have accounted for our obligation 
 to allegiance. 
 
 But to xvJwm is allegiance due, and vclio is our laiiful 
 sovereign ? This question is often the most difficult of 
 any, and liable to infinite discussions. When people 
 are so happy that they can answer. Our 2)resent sove- 
 reign,, 'who inker it Si in a direct line, from ancestors that 
 have governed us for many ages, this answer admits of 
 no reply, even though historians, in tracing up to the 
 remotest antiquity the origin of that royal family, may 
 find, as commonly happens, that its first authority was 
 derived from usurpation and violence. It is confessed 
 that private justice, or the abstinence from the pro- 
 perties of others, is a most cardinal virtue. Yet reason 
 tells us that there is no property 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 ne- 
 cessities of human society, neither in private nor pub- 
 lic life, will allow of such an accurate inquiry ; and 
 there is no virtue or moral duty but what may, with 
 facility, be refined away, if we indulge a false philoso- 
 phy in sifting and scrutinizing it, by every captious 
 rule of logic, in every light or position in which it may 
 be placed. 
 
 The questions with regard to private property have 
 filled 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 re- 
 gard to the succession and rights of princes, and forms 
 of government. Several cases no doubt occui-, especi-
 
 52S ESSAY XII. 
 
 ally in the infancy of any constitution, which admit of 
 no determination from the laws of justice and equity ; 
 and our historian Ixajiin 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 
 ouiiht to have succeeded to Tiberius, had he died while 
 they were both alive, without naming any of them for 
 liis successor ? Ought the right of adoption to be re- 
 ceived as equivalent to that of blood, in a nation where 
 it had the same effect in private families, and had al- 
 ready, in two instances, taken place in the public ? 
 Oufiht Germanicus to be esteemed the elder son, be- 
 cause he was born before Drusus ; or the younger, be- 
 cause he was adopted after the birth of his brother? 
 Oufrht the rijjht of the elder to be regarded in a na- 
 lion, where he liad no advantage in the succession of 
 private families? Ought the Roman empire at that 
 time to be deemed hereditary, because of two examples; 
 or ought it, even so early, to be regarded as belonging 
 to the stronger, or to the present possessor, as being 
 founded on so recent an usurpation ? 
 
 Connnodus mounted the throne after a pretty long 
 succession of excellent emperors, who had acquired 
 their title, not by birth, or public election, but by the 
 fictitious rite of adoption. The bloody debauchee be- 
 ing murdered by a conspiracy, suddenly formed between 
 his wench and her gallant, who happened at that tin)e_ 
 to be Picctorian Prfrfect, these immediately deliberated 
 about choosing a master to human kind, to speak in 
 the style of those ages; and they east their eyes on 
 Pertinnx. Before the tyrant's death was known, the 
 Prrvfcct went secretly to that senator, who, on the
 
 OF THE ORIGINAL CONTRACT. 529 
 
 appearance of the soldiers, imagined that his execntioii 
 had been ordered by Commodus. He was immediate- 
 ly saluted emperor by the officer and his attendants, 
 cheerfully proclaimed by the populace, unwillingly sub- 
 mitted 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 
 excellent prince ; and the world being now without a 
 master, and without government, the guards thought 
 proper to set the empire formally to sale. Julian, the 
 purchaser, was 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 legions begotten opposition and re- 
 sistance. Pescennius Niger in Syria elected himself 
 emperor, gained the tumultuary consent of his army, 
 and was attended with the secret good will of the senate 
 and people of Rome. Albinus in Britain found an equal 
 right to set up his claim ; but Severus, who governed 
 Pannonia, prevailed in the end above both of them. 
 That able politician and warrior, finding his own birth 
 and dignity too much inferior to the imperial crown, 
 professed, at first, an intention only of revenging the 
 death of Pertinax. He marched as general into Italy, de- 
 feated Julian, and, without our being able to fix any pre- 
 cise 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. '^ 
 
 ' Inter hcec Gordiamis Casar'' (says Capitolinus, speak- 
 
 ^ Hcrodian, lib. ii. 
 vox.. Iir. L L
 
 530 ESSAY XII. 
 
 ing of another period) ' snblafus a militihis. Impcratov 
 est appcllatiis, quia non crat alius in pra^scnti. ' It is to 
 be remarked, that Gordian was a boy of fourteen years 
 of age. 
 
 Frequent instances of a hke nature occur in the his- 
 tory of the emperors ; in that of Alexander's successors; 
 and of many other countries : Nor can any thing be 
 more unhajipythan a despotic government of this kind; 
 where the succession is disjointed and irregular, and 
 must be determined on every vacancy by force or elec- 
 tion. In a free jTOvernment, the matter is often unavoid- 
 able, 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 stability, by resting on the aristo- 
 cratical or democratical members, though the monar- 
 chical be altered, from time to time, in order to ac- 
 commodate it to the former. 
 
 In an absolute government, when there is no legal 
 prince who has a title to tlie throne, it may safely be 
 determined to belong to the first occupant. Instances 
 of this kind are but too frequent, especially in the eas- 
 tern monarchies. When any race of princes expires, 
 the will or destination of the last sovereign will be re- 
 irarded as a title. Thus the edict of Louis XIV., who 
 called tlie bastard princes to the succession in case of 
 the failure of all the legitimate princes, would, in such 
 an event, have some authority. ^ Thus the will of 
 
 ' It is remarkable, that in the remonstrance of the Duke of Bourbon 
 and tlic legitimate princes, against tliis destination of Louis XIV., tlie 
 doctrine of the orifiin/d conlracl is insisted on, even in that absolute go- 
 vernment. The French nation, say they, choosing Ihigli ('apet and his 
 posterity to rule over them and their posterity, where the former line
 
 OF THE OKIGINAL CONTRACT. 531 
 
 Charles the Sccoiul disposed of tlie whole Spanish 
 monarchy. The cession of the ancient proprietor, es- 
 pecially when joined to conquest, is likewise deemed a 
 good title. The general obligation, which binds us to 
 government, is the interest and necessities of society ; and 
 this obligation is very strong. The determination of it 
 to this or that particular prince, or form of government, 
 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 criti- 
 cism, there is really no other standard, by which any 
 controversy can ever be decided. And nothing is a 
 clearer proof, that a theory of this kind is erroneous, 
 than to find, that it leads to paradoxes repugnant to 
 the common sentiments of mankind, and to the prac- 
 
 fails, there is a tacit riglit 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 Boulainvilliers, who wrote 
 in defence of the bastard princes, ridicules this notion of an original 
 contract, especially when applied to Hugh Capet, wlio mounted the 
 throne, says he, by the same arts which have ever been employed by all 
 conquerors and usurpers. He got his title, indeed, recognised by the 
 states after he had put himself in possession : But is this a choice or 
 contract? The Comte de Boulainvilliers, we may observe, was a noted 
 republican ; but being a man of learning, and very conversant in his- 
 tory, he knew that the people were never almost consulted in these re- 
 volutions and new establishments, and that time alone bestowed right 
 and authority on what was commonly at first founded on force and vio- 
 lence. See Eldl ilc la France, vol. iii. 
 
 L l2
 
 332 ESSAY xri. 
 
 tice and opinion of all nations and all ages. The doc- 
 trine, which founds all lawful government on an origin- 
 al 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 ixith civil society, and so can be no form 
 of civil government at all ; ^ and that the supreme power 
 in a state cannot take from any man, by taxes and impo- 
 sitions, any part of his property, without his own consent 
 or that of his rep)resentatives. " What authority any 
 moral reasoning can have, which leads into opinions so 
 wide of the general practice of mankind, in every place 
 but this single kingdom, it is easy to determine. 
 
 The only passage I meet with in antiquity, where the 
 obli<;ation of obedience to jrovernment is ascribed to a 
 promise, is in Plato's Crito ; where Socrates refuses to 
 escape from prison, because he had tacitly promised 
 to obey the laws. Thus he builds a Tory consequence 
 of passive obedience on a JVhig foundation of the ori- 
 ginal contract. 
 
 New discoveries are not to be expected in these mat- 
 ters. If scarce any man, till very lately, ever imagin- 
 ed that government was founded on compact, it is cer- 
 tain that it cannot, in general, have any such founda- 
 tion. 
 
 The crime of rebellion among the ancients was com- 
 monly expressed by the terms viun^t^m novas res moliri. 
 
 ^ See Locke on Government, chap. vii. § 90. 
 
 * Locke on Goyernment, chap. xi. § 138, 139, 140.
 
 OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 533 
 
 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 
 
 In the former Essay, we endeavoured to refute the 
 speculative systems of politics advanced in this nation, 
 as well the religious system of the one party, as the 
 philosophical of the other. We now come to examine 
 the jpratical consequences deduced by each party, with 
 regard to the measures of submission due to sovereiirns. 
 
 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 man- 
 kind ; it is evident that, when the execution of justice 
 would be attended with very pernicious consequences, 
 that virtue must be suspended, and give place to public 
 utility, in such extraordinary and such pressing emer- 
 gencies. The maxim, Jtat Justitia, mat Ccelum, let 
 justice be performed, though the universe be destro\^ed, 
 is apparently false, and, by sacrificing the end to the 
 means, shows a preposterous idea of the subordination 
 of duties. What governor of a town makes any scruple 
 of burning the suburbs, when they facilitate the ap- 
 proaches of the enemy? Or what general abstains from 
 plundering a neutral country, when the necessities of
 
 534 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 war require it, and he cannot otherwise subsist his 
 army ? The case is the same with the duty of allegi- 
 ance ; and common sense teaches us, that as govern- 
 ment binds us to obedience, only on account of its ten- 
 dency to public utility, that duty must always, in extra- 
 ordinary cases, when public ruin would evidently at- 
 tend obedience, yield to the primary and original obli- 
 gation. Salies 2)oj)uli siiprcina Lcx^ the safety of the 
 people is the supreme law. This maxim is agreeable 
 to the sentiments of mankind in all ages : Nor is any 
 one, when he reads of the insurrections against Nero 
 or Philip tlie 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 extraordina- 
 ry emergencies, the question can only be among good 
 reasoners, with regard to the degree of necessity wliich 
 can justify resistance, and render it lawful or commend- 
 able. And here, I must confess, that I shall always in- 
 cline to their side, who draw the bond of allegiance 
 very close, and consider an infringement of it as the last 
 refuge in desperate cases, when the public is in the 
 highest danger from violence and tyranny. For, be- 
 sides the mischiefs of a civil war, which commonly at- 
 tends insurrection, it is certain tliat, where a disposi- 
 tion to rebellion appears among any people, it is one 
 chief cause of tyranny in the rulers, and forces them 
 into many violent measures which they never would 
 have embraced, had every one been inclined to submis- 
 sion and obedience. Thus, the Upamiicidc^ or assassi- 
 nation, approved of by ancient muximsj instead of keep-
 
 OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 535 
 
 ing tyrants and usurpers in awe, made them ten times 
 more fierce and unrelenting; and is now justly, upon 
 that account, abolished by the laws of nations, and uni- 
 versally condemned as a. base and treacherous method 
 of bringing to justice these disturbers of society. 
 
 Besides, we must consider, that as obedience is our 
 duty in the common course of things, it ought chiefly 
 to be inculcated ; nor can any thing be more preposter- 
 ous than an anxious care and solicitude in stating all 
 the cases in which resistance may be allowed. In like 
 manner, though a philosopher reasonably acknowledges, 
 in the course of an argument, that the rules of justice 
 may be dispensed with in cases of urgent necessity ; 
 what should we think of a preacher or casuist, who 
 should make it his chief study to find out such cases* 
 and enforce them with all the vehemence of argument 
 and eloquence? Would he not be better employed 
 in inculcating the general doctrine, than in displaying 
 the particular exceptions, which we are, perhaps, but 
 too much inclined of ourselves to embrace and to ex- 
 tend ? 
 
 There are, however, two reasons which may be plead- 
 ed in defence of that party among us who have, with 
 so much industry, propagated the maxims of resist- 
 ance ; maxims which, it must be confessed, are, in ge- 
 neral, so pernicious and so destructive of civil society. 
 The ^rst is, that their antagonists, carrymg the doc- 
 trine of obedience to such an extravagant height, as 
 not only never to mention the exceptions in extraor- 
 dinary cases (which might, perhaps, be excusable), but 
 even positively to exclude them ; it became necessary 
 to insist on these exceptions, and defend the rights of 
 injured truth and liberty. The second, and, perhaps, 
 better reason, is founded on the nature of the Britisli 
 constitution and form of government.
 
 530 ESSAY XIII. 
 
 It is almost peculiar to our constitution to establish 
 a first magistrate with such high pre-eminence and dig- 
 nity, tliat, though limited by the laws, he is, in a man- 
 ner, so tiir as regards his own person, above the laws, 
 and can neither be questioned nor punished for any in- 
 jury or wrong which may be committed by him. His 
 ministers alone, or those who act by his commission, 
 are obnoxious to justice ; and while the prince is thus 
 allured by the prospect of personal safety, to give the 
 laws their free course, an equal security is, in effect, 
 obtained by the punishment of lesser offenders ; and, 
 at the same time, a civil war is avoided, which would be 
 the infallible consequence, were an attack at every turn 
 made directly upon the sovereign. But, though the con- 
 stitution 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 establish- 
 ed 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 affiiirs come to that extremity, that the constitu- 
 tion can be defended by it alone. Resistance, there- 
 fore, must of course become more frequent in the Bri- 
 tish government, than in others which are simpler, and 
 consist of fewer parts and movements. Where the 
 king is an absolute sovereign, lie has little temptation 
 to commit such enormous tyranny as may justly pro- 
 voke rebellion. But where he is limited, his impru- 
 dent ambition, without any great vices, may run him
 
 OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 537 
 
 into that perilous situation. This is frequently sup- 
 posed to have been the case with Charles the First ; 
 and if we may now speak trutli, after animosities are 
 ceased, this was also the case with James the Second. 
 These were harmless, if not, in their private character, 
 good men ; but mistaking the nature of our constitu- 
 tion, and engrossing the whole legislative power, it be- 
 came necessary to oppose them with some vehemence ; 
 and even to deprive the latter formally of that authori- 
 ty, which he had used with such imprudence and indis- 
 cretion.
 
 53S ESSAY XIV. 
 
 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 OF tllE COALITION OF PARTIES. 
 
 To abolish all distinctions of party may not be prac- 
 ticable, perhaps not desirable in a free government. 
 Tlie only dangerous parties are such as entertain op- 
 posite 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 con- 
 stitution ; where there is no room for any compromise 
 or accommodation, and where the controversy may ap- 
 pear so momentous as to justify even an opposition by 
 arms to the pretensions of antagonists. Of this nature 
 was the animosity continued for above a century past, 
 between the parties in England ; an animosity which 
 broke out sometimes into civil war, which occasioned 
 violent revolutions, and which continually endangered 
 the peace and trancjuillity of the nation. But as there 
 have appeared of late the strongest symptoms of an 
 universal desire to abolish these party distinctions, this 
 tendency to a coalition affords the most agreeable pro- 
 spect 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 in-
 
 OF Tlin COALITION OF PARTIES. 539 
 
 suit and triuin})li of tlie one party over the other, to 
 encouraf^e moderate ophiions, to find the proper me- 
 dium in all disputes, to persuade each tliat its antago- 
 nist may possibly be sometimes in the ri^-ht, and to 
 keep a balance in the praise and blame which we be- 
 stow on either side. The two former Essays, concern - 
 infy the original contract and passive obedience, are cal- 
 culated for this purpose with regard to the jihilosoplii- 
 cal and practical controversies between the parties, and 
 tend to show that neither side are in these respects so 
 fully supported by reason as they endeavour to flatter 
 themselves. We shall proceed to exercise the same 
 moderation with regard to the historical disputes be- 
 tween the parties, by proving that each of them was 
 justified by plausible topics ; that there were on both 
 sides wise men, who meant well to their country ; 
 and that the past animosity between the factions had 
 no better foundation than narrow prejudice or inter- 
 ested passion. 
 
 The popular party, who afterwards acquired the 
 name of Whigs, might justify, by very specious argu- 
 ments, that opposition to the crown, from which our 
 present free constitution is derived. Though obliged 
 to acknowledge, that precedents in flivour of preroga- 
 tive had uniformly taken place during many reigns 
 before Charles the First, they thought that there was 
 no reason for submitting any longer to so dangerous 
 an authority. Such might have been their 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. Liberty 
 is a blessing so inestimable, that, wherever there ap- 
 pears any probability of recovering it, a nation may 
 willingly run many hazards, and ought not even to
 
 510 ESSAY xiy. 
 
 repine at the greatest effusion of blood or dissipation 
 of treasure. All human institutions, and none more 
 than government, are in continual fluctuation. Kings 
 are sure to embrace every opportunity of extending 
 their prerogatives : And if favourable incidents be not 
 also laid hold of for extending and securing the privi- 
 leges of the people, an universal despotism must for 
 ever prevail amongst mankind. The example of all 
 the neighbouring nations proves, that it is no longer 
 safe to intrust witli the crown the same high prero- 
 gatives 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 tlie crown ; 
 and those pretensions of the parliament now branded 
 with the title of innovations, are only a recovery of 
 the just rights of the people. 
 
 These views, far from being odious, are surely large, 
 and generous, and noble : to their prevalence and suc- 
 cess the kingdom owes its liberty : perhaps its learn- 
 ing, its industry, commerce, and naval power: By 
 tliem chiefly the English name is distinguished a- 
 mong tlie society of nations, and aspires to a rivalship 
 with that of the freest and most illustrious common- 
 wealths of antiquit}'. But as all these mighty conse- 
 quences could not reasonably be foreseen at the time 
 when the contest began, the royalists of that age want- 
 ed not specious arguments on their side, by which 
 they could justify their defence of the then establish- 
 ed prerogatives of the prince. We shall state the 
 question, as it might have appeared to them at the as- 
 sembling of that parliament, which, by its violent en- 
 croachments on the crown, began the civil wars. 
 
 I
 
 or THE COALITION OF PARTIES. 541 
 
 The only rule of government, tliey 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 
 render itself prevalent over the people, men had al- 
 ways retained it as their sole rule of conduct: They 
 had still continued in the primitive unconnected state 
 of nature, without submitting to political government, 
 whose sole basis is, not pure reason, but authority 
 and 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 appearance of 
 reason, shall dictate to him. The spirit of innovation 
 is in itself pernicious, however favourable its particu- 
 lar object may sometimes appear ; a truth so obvious, 
 that the popular party themselves are sensible of it, 
 and therefore cover their encroachments on the crown 
 by the plausible pretence of their recovering the an- 
 cient liberties of the people. 
 
 But the present prerogatives of the crown, allow- 
 ing all the suppositions of that party, have been in- 
 contestably established ever since the accession of the 
 House of Tudor ; a period which, as it now compre- 
 hends a hundred and sixty years, may be allowed suf- 
 ficient 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 con- 
 stitution as the rule of government ; or to have sup- 
 posed, that the former rights of the senate, and con- 
 suls and tribunes, were still subsisting ? 
 
 But the present claims of the English monarchs 
 are much more favourable than those of the Roman 
 emperors during that age. The authority of Angus-
 
 542 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 tus was a plain usurpation, frrounded only on mili- 
 tary violence, and forms such an epoch in the Roman 
 liistory as is obvious to every reader. But if Henry 
 VII. really, as some pretend, enlarged the power of 
 the crown, it was only by insensible acquisitions, 
 which escaped the apprehensions of the people, and 
 liave scarcely been remarked even by historians and 
 politicians. The new government, if it deserves the 
 epithet, is an imperceptible transition from the former J 
 is entirely engrafted on it ; derives its title fully from 
 that root ; and is to be considered only as one of those 
 gradual revolutions, to which human affairs, in every 
 nation, will be for ever subject. 
 
 The house of Tudor, and after them that of Stuart, 
 exercised no prerogatives but what had been claimed 
 and exercised by the Plantagenets. Not a single branch 
 of their authority can be said to be an innovation. 
 The only difference is, that perhaps former kings ex- 
 erted these powers only by intervals, and were not able, 
 by reason of the opposition of their barons, to render 
 them so steady a rule of administration. ^ ° But the 
 sole inference from this fact is, that those ancient times 
 •were more turbulent and seditious ; and that roval au- 
 thority, 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 for- 
 
 c The author believes that he was the first writer \\ ho advanced, 
 that the family of Tudor possessed in general more authority than their 
 immediate predecessors ; an opinion which he hopes ^^ ill be supported 
 by historj', but which he proposes with some diffidence. Tlicre are 
 strong symptoms of arbitrary power in some former reigns even after 
 signing of the cliarters. Tlic power of the crown in that age depended 
 less on the constitution, than on tlic capacity and vi^'our of the prince 
 wlio wore it. — Edition N.
 
 OF THE COALITION OF PAnTIES. 543 
 
 mer control over the kings was not placed in the com- 
 mons, but in the barons : The people had no authori- 
 ty, and even little or no liberty ; till the crown, by sup- 
 pressing these factious tyrants, enforced the execution 
 of the laws, and obliged all the subjects ecjually to re- 
 spect each other's rights, privileges, and properties. 
 If we must return to the ancient barbarous and feudal 
 constitution, let those gentlemen, who now behave 
 themselves with so much insolence to their sovereign, 
 set the first example. Let them make court to be ad- 
 mitted as retainers to a neighbouring baron ; and, by 
 , submitting to slavery under him, acquire some protec- 
 tion to themselves, together with the power of exer- 
 cising rapine and oppression over their inferior slaves 
 and villains. This was the condition of the commons 
 amono; their remote ancestors. 
 
 But how far back must we go, in having recourse to 
 ancient constitutions and governments ? There was a 
 constitution still more ancient than that to which these 
 innovators affect so much to appeal. During that pe- 
 riod there was no Magna Charta : The barons them- 
 selves possessed few regular, stated privileges ; and the 
 house of commons probably had not an existence. 
 
 It is ridiculous to hear the Commons, while they are 
 assuming, by usurpation, the whole power of govern- 
 ment, talk of reviving the ancient institutions. Is it 
 not known, that, though representatives received wages 
 from their constituents, to be a member of the Lower 
 House was always considered as a burden, and an ex- 
 emption from it as a privilege ? Will they persuade 
 iis that power, which of all human acquisitions is the 
 most coveted, and in comparison of which, even repu- 
 tation, and pleasure, and riches, are slighted, could 
 ever be regarded as a burden by any man ?
 
 5H ESSAY XIV. 
 
 The property acquired of late by the Commons, it is 
 said, entitles them to more power than their ancestors 
 enjoyed. But to what is this increase of their proper- 
 ty owing but to an increase of their liberty and their 
 security ? Let them therefore acknowledge that their 
 ancestors, while the crown was restrained by the sedi- 
 tious barons, really enjo3'ed less liberty than they them- 
 selves have attained, after the sovereign acquired the 
 ascendant : And let them enjoy that liberty with mode- 
 ration, and not forfeit it by new exorbitant claims, and 
 by rendering it a pretence for endless innovations. 
 
 The true rule of government is the present esta- 
 blished practice of the age. That has most authority, 
 because it is recent : It is also best known, for the 
 same reason. Who has assured those tribunes that 
 the Plantajrenets did not exercise as hi<rh acts of au- 
 thority as the Tudors ? Historians, they sa}', do not 
 mention them. But historians are also silent with re- 
 gard to the chief exertions of prerogative by the Tu- 
 dors. ^^'^here 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 
 history and annals. Had we no other monuments of 
 Elizabeth's reign than what are preserved even by 
 Camden, the most copious, judicious, and exact of 
 our historians, we should be entirely ignorant of tiie 
 most important maxims of her government. 
 
 A\'as not the present monarchical government, in its 
 full extent, authorized by lawyers, recommended by 
 divines, acknowledged by politicians, acquiesced in, 
 nay, passionately cherished, by the people in general, 
 and ail this during a period of at least a hundred and 
 sixty years, and, till of late, without the smallest mur- 
 mur or controversy ? This general consent surely, dur-
 
 OF THE COALITION DF PARTIES. 54-5 
 
 ing SO long a time, must be sufficient to render a con- 
 stitution legal and valid. If the origin of all power be 
 derived, as is pretended, from the people, here is their 
 consent in the fullest and most ample terms that can 
 be desired or imagined. 
 
 But the people must not pretend, because they can, 
 by their consent, lay the foundations of government, 
 that therefore they are to be permitted, at their plea- 
 sure, to overthrow and subvert them. There is no end 
 of these seditious and arrogant claims. The power of 
 the crown is now openly struck at : The nobility are 
 also in visible peril: The gentry will soon follow: The 
 popular leaders, who will then assume the name of 
 gentry, will next be exposed to danger : And the peo- 
 ple themselves, having become incapable of civil go- 
 vernment, and lying under the restraint of no autho- 
 rity, 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 
 pretensions to civil liberty, is in reality incited by the 
 fanaticism of religion ; a principle the most blind, head- 
 strong and ungovernable, by which human nature can 
 possibly be actuated. Popular rage is dreadful, from 
 whatever motive derived ; but must be attended with 
 the most pernicious consequences, when it arises from 
 a principle which disclaims all control by humaij law, 
 reason, or authority. 
 
 These are the arguments which each party may 
 make use of to justify the conduct of their predeces- 
 sors during that great crisis. The event, if that can 
 be admitted as a reason, has shown, that the argu- 
 ments of the popular party were better founded ; but 
 
 VOL. III. 31 M
 
 540 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 perhaps, according to the estabhshed maxuTis of law- 
 yers 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 es- 
 tablishment. Moderation is of advantage to every es- 
 tablishment : Nothing but zeal can overturn a settled 
 power ; and an over active zeal in friends is apt to be- 
 get a like spirit in antagonists. The transition from a 
 moderate opposition against an establishment, to an 
 entire acquiescence in it, is easy and insensible. 
 
 There are many invincible arguments which should 
 induce the malecontent party to acquiesce entirely in 
 the present settlement of the constitution. They now 
 find, that the spirit of civil liberty, though at first 
 connected with religious fanaticism, could purge itself 
 from that pollution, and appear under a more genuine 
 and engaging aspect ; a friend to toleration, and en- 
 courager of all the enlarged and generous sentiments 
 that do honour to human nature. They may observe, 
 that the popular claims could stop at a proper period ; 
 and, after retrenching the high claims of prerogative, 
 could still maintain a due respect to monarchy, the no- 
 bility, 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 set- 
 tled ; its happy effects are proved by experience; a 
 long tract of time has given it stability ; and whoever 
 would attempt to overturn it, and to recall the past 
 government or abdicated family, would, besides other
 
 OF THE COALITION OF PARTIES. 54.7 
 
 more criminal imputations, be exposed, in their turn, 
 to the reproach of faction and innovation. While they 
 peruse the history of past events, they ought to reflect, 
 both that those rinhts of the crown are lono; since an- 
 nihilated, and that the tyranny, and violence, and op- 
 pression, to which they often give 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 lay the stress of the argu- 
 ment on a wrong place, and, by disputing an untenable 
 post, inure the adversaries to success and victory. 
 
 M M 2
 
 548 ESSAY XV. 
 
 ESSAY XV. 
 
 OF THE TROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 
 
 I SUPPOSE, that if a Member of Parliament, in the 
 reign of King William or Queen Anne, while the es- 
 tablishment of the Protestant Succesi,ion was yet nncer- 
 tain, were deliberating concerning the party he would 
 choose in that important question, and weighing, with 
 imjiartiality, the advantages and disadvantages on each 
 side, I believe the following particulars would have en- 
 tered into his consideration. 
 
 He would easily perceive the great advantage re- 
 sulting from the restoration of the Stuart family, by 
 which we should preserve the succession clear and un- 
 disputed, free from a pretender, with such a specious 
 title as that of blood, wliich, with the multitude, is al- 
 ways the claim the strongest and most easily compre- 
 hended. It is in vain to say, as many have done, that 
 the question with regard to governors, independent of 
 governme?ity is frivolous, and little worth disputing, 
 much less fighting about. The generality of mankind 
 never will enter into these sentiments ; and it is nmch 
 hapjiier, I believe, for society, that they do not, but 
 rather continue in their natural prepossessions. How
 
 or THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 549 
 
 could stability be preserved in any monarchical govern- 
 ment (which, though perhaps not the best, is, and al- 
 ways has been, the most common of any), unless men 
 had so passionate a regard for the true heir of their 
 royal family; and even though he be weak in under- 
 standing, or infirm in years, gave him so sensible a 
 preference above persons the most accomplished in 
 shining talents, or celebrated for great 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 perpetual wars and 
 convulsions ? The condition of the Roman empire, 
 surel}"^, 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 popu- 
 lace or soldierv. It is but a foolish wisdom, which is 
 so carefully displayed in undervaluing princes, and 
 placing them on a level with the meanest of mankind. 
 To be sure, an anatomist finds no more in the greatest 
 monarch than in the lowest peasant or day-labourer ; 
 and a moralist may, perhaps, frequently find less. But 
 what do all these reflections tend to ? We all of us still 
 retain these prejudices in favour of birth and ftimily; 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 pre- 
 sently disgust us ; but one that introduces kings and 
 princes, acquires in our eyes an air of importance and 
 dignity. Or should a man be able, by his superior 
 wisdom, to get entirely above such prepossessions, he 
 would soon, by means of the same wisdom, again bring 
 himself down to them for the sake of society, whose
 
 550 ESSAY XV. 
 
 welfare he would perceive to be intimately connected 
 with them. Far from endcavourinir to undeceive the 
 people in this particular, he would cherish such senti- 
 timents of reverence to their princes, as requisite to 
 preserve a due subordination in society. And though 
 the lives of twenty thousand men be often sacrificed to 
 maintain a king in possession of his throne, or preserve 
 the right of succession undisturbed, he entertains no 
 indignation at the loss, on pretence that every indivi- 
 dual of these was, perhaps, in himself, as valuable as 
 the prince he served. He considers the consequences 
 of violating the hereditary right of kings ; consequen- 
 ces 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 
 opposite nature, and arise from this very circumstance, 
 that it violates hereditary right, and places on the 
 throne a prince to whom birtii gave no title to that 
 dignity. It is evident, from the history of this Island, 
 that the privileges of the people have, during near two 
 centuries, been continually upon the increase, by the 
 division of the church lands, by the alienations of the 
 barons' estates, by the progress of trade, and above all 
 by the happiness of our situation, which, for a long 
 time, gave us sufficient security, without any standing 
 army or military establishment. On the contrary, 
 public liberty has, almost in every other nation of Eu- 
 rope, been, during the same period, extremely on the 
 decline ; while the people were disgusted at the hard- 
 ships of the old feudal militia, and rather chose to in- 
 trust their prince with mercenary armies, which he 
 easily turned against themselves. It was nothing ex-
 
 OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 551 
 
 tniordinary, therefore, ihut some of our British sove- 
 reigns mistook the nature of the constitution, at least 
 the genius of the people ; ami as they embraced all the 
 favourable precedents left them by their ancestors, they 
 overlooked all those which were contrary, and which 
 supposed a limitation in our government. They were 
 encouraged in this mistake, by the example of all the 
 neighbouring princes, who, bearing the same title or 
 appellation, and being adorned with the same ensigns 
 of authority, naturally led them to claim the same powers 
 and 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 pre- 
 paring any force to support them ; and even without 
 reserve or disguise, which are always employed by 
 those who enter upon any new project, or endeavour to 
 innovate in anj' government. "^^ The flattery of cour- 
 
 6 1 King James told his Parliament plainly, when they meddled in state 
 affairs, « Ne sutor ultra crepidam ? He used also, at his table, in promiscu- 
 ous companies, to advance his notions in a manner still more undisguised, 
 as we may learn from a story toUl in the life of Mr Waller, and which 
 that poet used frequently to repeat. When Mr Waller was young, he had 
 the curiosity to go to Court, and he stood in the circle and saw King 
 James dine ; where, amongst other company, there sat at table two 
 Bishops. The King openly and aloud proposed this question, Whether 
 he might not take his siibjccls^ money when he had occasion for it, without 
 (dllhisformalilijofrarUnment. The one Bishop readily replied, ' God 
 forbid you should not, for you arc the breath of our nostrils. ' The other 
 Bishop declined answering, and said he was not skilled in Parliamentary 
 cases. But upon the King's urging him, and saying he would admit of 
 no evasion, his Lordship replied very pleasantly, ' Why, then, I think 
 your Majesty may laitftd/y lake my brother's vioney,for he offers it. ' In
 
 552 ESSAY XV. 
 
 tiers fartlier confirmed their prejudices; and, above 
 all, that of tlie clergy, wlio, from several passages of 
 S.-ripiure, and these wrested too, had erected a regular 
 and avowed system of arbitrary power. The only me- 
 thod of destroj'ing, at once, all these high claims and 
 pretensions, was to depart from the true liereditary 
 line, and choose a prince, who, being plainly a crea- 
 ture of the public, and receiving the crown on condi- 
 tions, expressed and avowed, found his authority esta- 
 blished on the same bottom with the privileges of the 
 people. By electing him in the royal line, we cut off 
 all hopes of ambitious subjects, who might, in future 
 emergencies, disturb the government by their cabals 
 and pretensions : By rendering the crown hereditary 
 in his family, we avoided all the inconveniences of elec- 
 
 Sir Walter Raleigh's Preface to the History of the World, there is this 
 remarkalilc passage. ' Philip the II., by strong hand and main force, at- 
 tempted to make himself' not only an absolute monarch over the A^etkcrlands, 
 like unto the kings and sovereigns q/" England and France, but, Turk like, 
 to tread under his feet all their natural and fundamental laws, privileges^ 
 and ancient rights.' Spencer, speaking of i^omc grunts oi the English 
 Kings to the Irish corporations, says, ' All vs'hich, though at the time of 
 llicir first grant they were tolerable and perhaps reasonable, yet now are 
 most unreasonable and inconvenient. But all these will easily be cut off 
 with the superior power of iier Majesty's prerogative, against which her 
 own grants arc not to be pleaded or enforced. ' Stale oj Ireland, page 
 15.37, Edit. 1706. 
 
 As these were very common, though not, perhaps, the universal no- 
 tions of the times, the two first Princes of the House of Stuart were the 
 more excusable for their mistake. And Ilapin, the most judicious of 
 historians, * seepis sometimes to treat them with too much severity uport 
 account of it. 
 
 • In Editiosi II, N, the worda ' the most judicious of historians, ' 
 which stood in KnirioNs !•', G, are changed to ' suitable to his usual 
 iiialigijity and partiality. '
 
 OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 553 
 
 tive monarchy: and by excluding the lineal heir, we 
 secured all our constitutional limitations, and rendered 
 our government uniform, and of a piece. The people 
 cherish monarchy, because protected by it: The monarch 
 favours liberty, because created by it: And thus every 
 advantage is obtained by the new establishment, as far 
 as human skill and wisdom can extend itself. 
 
 These are the separate advantages of fixing the suc- 
 cession, either in the house of Stuart, or in that of 
 Hanover. There are also disadvantages in each esta- 
 blishment, which an impartial patriot would ponder and 
 examine, in order to form a just judgment upon the 
 whole. 
 
 The disadvantages of the Protestant succession con- 
 sist in the foreign dominions which are possessed by 
 the princes of the Hanover line, and which, it might be 
 supposed, would engage us in the intrigues and wars of 
 the Continent, and lose us, in some measure, the inesti- 
 mable advantage we possess, of being surrounded and 
 guarded by the sea, which we command. The disad- 
 vantages of recalling the abdicated family consist chief- 
 ly in their religion, which is more prejudicial to socie- 
 ty than that established among us ; is contrary to it, 
 and affords no toleration, or peace, or security, to any 
 other communion. 
 
 It appears to me, that these advantages and disad- 
 vantages 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, 
 £\re also disadvantages in that family. It belongsj
 
 554 ESSAY XV, 
 
 therefore, to a philosopher alone, who is of neither 
 party, to put all the circumstances in the scale, and as- 
 sign 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 delibei-ation, a choice 
 which is either purely good, or purely ill. Consequen- 
 ces, mixed and varied, may be foreseen to flow from 
 every measure: And many consequences, unforeseen, 
 do always, in fact, result from every one. Hesitation, 
 and reserve, and suspense, are therefore the only sen- 
 timents he brings to this essay or trial. Or, if he in- 
 dulges any passion, it is that of derision against the ig- 
 norant multitude, who are always clamorous and dog- 
 matical, even in the nicest questions, of which, from 
 want of temper, perhaps still more than of understand- 
 ing, 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 govern- 
 ment was kept in a continual fever, by the contention 
 between the privileges of the people and the preroga- 
 tives of the crown. If arms were dropped, the noise of 
 disputes continued : Or if these were silenced, jealousy 
 still corroded the heart, and threw the nation into an un- 
 natural ferment and disorder. And while we were thus
 
 OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 555 
 
 occupied in domestic disputes, a foreign power, dan- 
 gerous to public liberty, erected itself in Europe, with- 
 out any opposition from us, and even sometimes with 
 our assistance. 
 
 But during these last sixty years, when a parliamen- 
 tary establishment has taken place; whatever factions 
 may have prevailed, either among the people or in pub- 
 lic 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 par- 
 liaments. Public liberty, with internal peace and or- 
 der, has flourished almost without interruption : Irade 
 and manufiictures, and agriculture, have increased: 
 The arts, and sciences, and philosophy, have been cul- 
 tivated. 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 equal- 
 ly from our progress in the arts of peace, and from va- 
 lour and success in war. So long and so glorious a 
 period no nation almost can boast of: Nor is there an- 
 other 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 ra- 
 tional, and so suitable to the dignity of human nature. 
 
 But though this recent experience seems clearly to 
 decide in favour of the present establishment, there are 
 some circumstances to be thrown into the other scale ; 
 and it is dangerous to regulate our judgment by one 
 event or example. 
 
 We have had two rebellions during the flourishing 
 period above mentioned, besides plots and conspiracies 
 without number. And if none of these have produced 
 any very fatal event, we may ascribe our escape chiefly 
 to the narrow genius of those princes who disputed our
 
 556 ESSAY XV. 
 
 establishment; and we may esteem ourselves so far for- 
 tunate. But the claims of the banished flimily, I fear, 
 are not yet anti(juated ; and who can foretell, that their 
 future attempts will produce no greater disorder ? 
 
 The disputes between privile<>-e and prerogative may 
 easily be composed by laws, and votes, and conferences, 
 and concessions, where there is tolerable temper or 
 prudence on both sides, or on either side. Among con- 
 tending 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 secur- 
 mg a people fully, both against domestic oppression 
 and foreign conquest. 
 
 Notwithstanding our riches and renown, what a cri- 
 tical escape did we make, by the late peace, from dan- 
 gers, which were owing not so much to bad conduct 
 and ill success in war, as to the pernicious practice 
 of mortgaging our finances, and the still more per- 
 nicious maxim of never paying off our encumbrances ? 
 Such I'atal measures would not probably have been 
 embraced, had it not been to secure a precarious esta- 
 blishment. °2 
 
 But to convince us, that an hereditary title is to be 
 embraced rather than a parliamentary one, which is not 
 supported by any other views or motives, a man needs 
 only transport himself back to the era of the Restora- 
 tion, and suppose that he had had a seat in that parlia- 
 ment which recalled the royal family, and put a period 
 to tlie greatest disorders that ever arose from the oppo- 
 
 « 2 Tliosc wlio consider how universal this pernicious practice of 
 funding has become all over Europe, may perhaps dispute this last opi- 
 nion. But wi' l.-ty under less necessity than other states. — Nolc in Edi- 
 tions V, (J, 11, N.
 
 OF THE PllOTKSiTANT SUCCESSION. 557 
 
 site pretensions of prince and people. What would 
 have been thou»ht of one that had proposed, at that 
 time, to set aside Charles II. and settle the crown on 
 the Duke of York or Gloucester, merely in order to 
 exclude all high claims, like those of their father and 
 grandfather ? Would not such a one have been re- 
 garded as an extravagant projector, who loved danger- 
 ous remedies, and could tamper and play with a go- 
 vei-nment and national constitution, like a quack with 
 a sickly patient. *^ ^ 
 
 In reality, the reason assigned by the nation for ex- 
 cluding the race of Stuart, and so many other branches 
 of the royal family, is not on account of their heredi- 
 tary title, (a reason which would, to vulgar apprehen- 
 sions, have appeared altogether absurd, but on ac- 
 count of their religion, which leads us to compare the 
 disadvantages above mentioned in each establishment. 
 
 I confess that, considering the matter in general, it 
 were much to be wished that our prince had no foreign 
 dominions, and could confine all his atttention to the 
 government of the island. For not to mention some 
 real inconveniences that may result from territories on 
 the Continent, they afford such a handle for calumny 
 and defamation, as is greedily seized by the people, al- 
 
 c 5 ' The advantages which result from a parliamentary title, prefer- 
 ably to an hereditary one, though they are great, are too refined ever to 
 enter into the conception of tlie vulgar. The bulk of mankind would 
 never allow tlieni to be suHicicnt for committing what would be regarded 
 as an injustice to the Prince. They must be supported by some gross, 
 popular, and familiar topics ; and wise men, though convinced of their 
 force, would reject them, in compliance with the weakness and preju- 
 dices of the people. An encroacliing tyrant, or deluded bigot alone, by 
 his miscouduct, is able to enrage the nation, and render practicable what 
 was always, perhaps, desirable. — Editioks F, G, II, N.
 
 558 ESSAY XV. 
 
 ways disposed to tliink ill of their superiors. It must, 
 liowever, be acknowledged, that Hanover is, perhaps, 
 tlie spot of ground in Europe tlie least inconvenient 
 for a Kinop of Eniiland. It lies in the heart of Ger- 
 many, at a distance from the great powers, which are 
 our natural rivals : It is protected by the laws of the 
 empire, as well as by the arms of its own sovereign : 
 And it serves only to connect us more closely with the 
 House of Austria, our natural ally. ^ ^ 
 
 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 
 Avith dividing the sacerdotal from the regal office (which 
 must be prejudicial to any state), it bestows the former 
 on a foreigner, who has always a separate interest from 
 that of the public, and may often have an opposite one. 
 
 But were this reliijion ever so advantaueous to so- 
 ciety, it is contrary to that which is established among 
 
 C 1 ' In the last war, it has been of service to us, by furnishing us 
 with a considerable body of auxiliary troops, the bravest and most faith- 
 ful in the world. The Elector of Hanover is the only considerable 
 prince in the empire wlio has drove no separate end, and has raised up 
 no stale pretensions, during the late commotions of Europe; but has 
 a^ted all along with the dignity of a King of Britain. And, ever since 
 tlic accession of tliat family, it would be diflicult to show any harm we 
 have ever received from tlie electoral dominions, except that short dis- 
 gust in 1718 with Charles the 12th, who, regidating himself by maxims 
 very different from those of other princes, made a personal quarrel of 
 every public injury. * — EniTioNs F, G, II, N. 
 
 * Note ill Kiiiiios N. ' Thit xvas i»il>lisli('(I in 1752.'
 
 OF THE PROTESTANT SUCCESSION. 559 
 
 US, and which is hkely 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 acrimony of opposite religions all 
 over Europe, yet the spirit of moderation has, as yet, 
 made too slow advances to be entirely trusted. ^ ^ 
 
 Thus, upon the whole, the advantages of the settle- 
 ment in the family of Stuart, which frees us from a 
 disputed title, seem to bear some proportion with those 
 of the settlement in the family of Hanover, which frees 
 us from the claims of prerogative; but, at the same 
 time, its disadvantages, by placing on the throne a 
 Roman Catholic, are greater than those of the other 
 establishment, in settling the crown on a foreign prince. 
 What party an impartial patriot, in the reign of King 
 William or Queen 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 ac- 
 tually taken place. The princes of that family, with- 
 out 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 
 
 6 5 ' The conduct of the Saxon family, where the same person can be 
 a Catholic King and a Protestant Elector, is perhaps the first instance 
 in modern times of so reasonable and prudent a behaviour: And the 
 gradual progress of the Catholic superstition does even there prognosti- 
 cate a speedy alteration. After which it is justly to be apprehended, 
 that persecutions will put a speedy period to the Protestant religion in 
 the place of its nativity. ' — Editions F, G, H, N. 
 
 6 6 s^For my part, I esteem liberty so invaluable a blessing in society, 
 that whatever favours its progress and security, can scarce be too fondly 
 cherished by every one who is a lover of human kind. '— Edixioks 
 F, G, H, N.
 
 560 ESSAY XV. 
 
 Utmost mildness, equity, and regard to the laws and 
 constitution. Our own ministers, our own parliaments, 
 ourselves, have governed us ; and if aught ill has be- 
 fallen us, we can only blame fortune or ourselves. 
 A\'hat 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 our- 
 selves totally unfit for any state but that of absolute 
 slavery and subjection? 
 
 The greatest inconvenience attending a disputed title 
 is, that it brings us in danger of civil wars and rebel- 
 lions. What wise man, to avoid this inconvenience, 
 would run directly into a civil war and rebellion ? Not 
 to mention, that so long possession, secured by so 
 many laws, must, ere this time, in the apprehension of 
 a great part of the nation, have begotten a title in the 
 house of Hanover, independent of their present pos- 
 session : So that now we should not, even by a revolu- 
 tion, obtain the end of avoiding a disputed title. 
 
 No revolution made by national forces will ever be 
 able, without some other great necessity, to abolish 
 our debts and 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 balance of power threatens us, and which 
 our civil dis-sensions are likely, above all other circum- * 
 stances, to bring upon us.
 
 IDEA OF A TERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 561 
 
 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. ^ "^ 
 
 It is not with forms of government, as with other 
 artificial contrivances, where an old engine may be re- 
 jected, if we can discover another more accurate and 
 commodious, or where trials may safely be made, even 
 though the success be doubtful. An established go- 
 vernment has an infinite advantage, by that very cir- 
 cumstance, of its being established ; the bulk of man- 
 kind being governed by authority, not reason, and 
 never attributing authority to any thing that has not 
 the recommendation of antiquity. 
 
 To tamper, therefore, in this aifair, or try experi- 
 ments merely upon the credit of supposed argument 
 and philosophy, can never be the part of a wise magis- 
 trate, who will bear a reverence to what carries the 
 marks of age ; and though he may attempt some im- 
 
 6 7 « Of all mankind, there are none so pernicious as political projec- 
 tors, if they have power, nor so ridiculous, if they want it : As, on the 
 other hand, a wise politician is the most beneficial character in nature, if 
 accompanied with authority, and the most innocent, and not altogether 
 useless, even if deprived of it, ' — Editions F, G, H, N. 
 
 VOL. III. N N
 
 502 ESSAY xvr. 
 
 provements for the public good, yet will he adjust his 
 iunovatious as much as possible to the ancient fabric, 
 and preserve entire the chief pillars and supports of 
 the constitution. 
 
 The mathematicians in Europe have been much di- 
 vided concerning that figure of a ship which is the 
 most conuuodious for sailing; and Huygens, who at 
 last determined the controversy, is justly thought to 
 have obliged the learned as well as commercial world, 
 thoujrh Columbus had sailed to America, and Sir 
 Francis Drake made the tour of the world, without 
 any such discovery. As one form of government must 
 be allowed more perfect than another, independent of 
 the manners and humours of particular men, why may 
 we not inquire what is the most perfect of all, though 
 the common botched and inaccurate governments seem 
 to serve the purposes of society, and though it be not 
 so easy to establish a new system of government, as to 
 build a vessel upon a new construction ? The subject 
 is surely the most worthy of curiosity of any the wit of 
 man can possibly devise. And who knows, if this con- 
 troversy were fixed by the universal consent of the wise 
 and learned, but, in some future age, an opportunity 
 might be afforded of reducing the theory to practice, 
 either by a dissolution of some old government, or by 
 the combination of men to form a new one, in some 
 distant part of the world ? In all cases, it must be ad- 
 vantageous to know what is the most perfect in the 
 kind, that we may be able to bring any real constitu- 
 tion or form of government as near it as possible, by 
 such gentle alterations and innovations as may not give 
 too great disturbance to society. 
 
 All I pretend to in the present Essay is, to revive 
 this sul)ject of speculation; and therefore I shall de-
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 563 
 
 liver my sentiments in as few words as possible. A 
 long dissertation on tliat head would not, I apprehend, 
 be very acceptable to the public, who will be apt to re- 
 gard such disquisitions both as useless and chimerical. 
 
 All plans of government, wliich suppose great refor- 
 mation in the manners of mankind, are plainly imao-i- 
 nary. Of this nature, are the Rcjmblic 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, Its rotation is inconvenient, by throwing men, of 
 whatever abilities, by intervals, out of public employ- 
 ment. Secondly^ Its Agrarian is impracticable. Men 
 will soon learn the art which was practised in ancient 
 Rome, of concealing their possessions under other 
 people's names, till at last the abuse will become so 
 common, that they will throw off even the appearance 
 of restraint. Thirdlxj, The Oceana provides not a suffi- 
 cient security for liberty, or the redress of grievances. 
 The senate must propose, and the people consent, by 
 which means the senate have not only a negative upon 
 the people, but, what is of much greater consequence, 
 their negative goes before the votes of the people. 
 Were the king's negative of the same nature in the 
 English constitution, and could he prevent any bill 
 from coming into parliament, he would be an absolute 
 monarch. As his negative follows the votes of the 
 houses, it is of little 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 
 
 N N 2
 
 56 !• ESSAY XVI. 
 
 uuanimoiis desire of the people. But could the khig 
 crush a disagreeable bill in embryo (as was the case 
 for some time in the Scottish parliament, by means of 
 the Lords of the Articles), the British government would 
 have no balance, nor would grievances ever be redress- 
 ed ; and it is certain, that exorbitant power proceeds 
 not in anv government from new laws, so much as 
 from neglecting to remedy the abuses which frequently 
 rise from the old ones. A government, says Machiavel, 
 must often be brought back to its original principles. 
 It appears then, that in the Oceana^ the whole legisla- 
 ture may be said to rest in the senate, which Harring- 
 ton 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 100 counties, and each 
 county mto 100 parishes, making in all 10,000. If the 
 country proposed to be erected into a commonwealth 
 be of more narrow extent, we may diminish the number 
 of counties ; Ixit never bring them below thirty. If it 
 be of greater extent, it were better to enlarge the 
 parishes, or throw more parishes into a county, than 
 increase the number of counties. 
 
 <^s 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 
 
 6 s * Let all the freeholders in the country parishes, and tljose who 
 pay scot and lot in the town parishes, meet annually, ' &c. — Editions 
 F, G. 
 
 < Let all the freeholders of ten pounds a year in the country, and all 
 the householders worth 200 pounds in the town parishes, meet annually, * 
 &c. — Editions H, N.
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 565 
 
 churcli, and clioose by ballot, some freeholder of the 
 county for their member, whom we shall call the coiai- 
 ty represent alive. 
 
 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 maghirafes, and 
 one senator. There are, therefore, in the whole com- 
 monwealth, 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 magistrates the authority of county repre- 
 sentatives. 
 
 Let the senators meet in the capital, and be endow- 
 ed with the whole executive power of the common- 
 wealth ; the power of peace and war, of giving orders 
 to generals, admirals, and ambassadors ; and, in short, 
 all the prerogatives of a British king, except his nega- 
 tive. 
 
 Let the county representatives meet in their particu- 
 lar counties, and possess the whole legislative power of 
 the commonwealth, the greater number of counties de- 
 ciding 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, ihe senate have their choice of sending down 
 the law either to the county magistrates or county re- 
 presentatives. 
 
 The magistrates, though the law be referred to them,
 
 566 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 may, if they please, call the representatives, and sub- 
 mit the aliair to their determination. 
 
 Whether the law be referred by the senate to the 
 county magistrates or representatives, a copy of it, and 
 of the senate's reasons, must be sent to every represen- 
 tative eight days before the day appointed for the as- 
 semblin"-, in order to deliberate concerninfj it. And 
 though the determination be, by the senate, referred to 
 the magistrates, if five representatives of the county or- 
 der the magistrates to assemble the whole court of re- 
 presentatives, and submit the affair to their determina-r 
 tion, 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- 
 trates or re})resentatives, may throw any man out of 
 all public ollices for a year. Thirty counties for three 
 years. 
 
 The senate has a power of throwing out any mem- 
 ber or number of members of its own body, not to be 
 re-elected for that year. The senate cannot throw out 
 twice in a year the senator of the same county. 
 
 The power of the old senate continues for three 
 weeks after the annual election of the county represen- 
 tatives. Then all the new senators are shut up in a 
 conclave like the cardinals ; and by an intricate ballot, 
 such as that of Venice or Malta, they choose the fol- 
 lowing niiigistrates; a protector, who represents the 
 dignity of tiie connnonweallh, and presides in the se-
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 5G7 
 
 nate ; two secretaries of state : these six councils, a coun- 
 cil of state, a council of religion and learning, a coun- 
 cil of trade, a council of laws, a council of war, a coun- 
 cil of the admiralty, each council consisting of five per- 
 sons ; together with six commissioners of the treasury, 
 and a first commissioner. All these must be senators. 
 The senate also names all the ambassadors to foreign 
 courts, who may either be senators or not. 
 
 The senate may continue any or all of these, but 
 must re-elect them every year. 
 
 The protector and two secretaries have session and 
 suffrage in the council of state. The business of that 
 council is all foreign politics. The council of state has 
 session and suffrage in all the other councils. 
 
 The council of religion and learning inspects the 
 universities and clergy. That of trade inspects every 
 thing that may affect commerce. That of laws inspects 
 all the abuses of law by the inferior magistrates, and 
 examines what improvements may be made of the mu- 
 nici})al law. That of war inspects the militia and its 
 discipline, magazines, stores, &c. ; and when the re- 
 public is in war, examines into the proper orders for 
 generals. The council of admiralty has the same power 
 with regard to the navy, together with the nomination 
 of the captains and all inferior officers. 
 
 None of these councils can give orders themselves, 
 except where they receive such powers from the senate. 
 In other cases, they must communicate every thing to 
 the senate. 
 
 When the senate is under adjournment, any of the 
 councils may assemble it before the day appointed for 
 its meeting. 
 
 Besides these councils or courts, there is another call- 
 ed the court oi comjic titers ; which is thus constituted.
 
 568 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 If any candidates for tlie office of senator have more 
 votes than a third of the representatives, that candidate 
 who has most votes, next to the senator elected, be- 
 comes incapable for one year of all public offices, even 
 of being a magistrate or representative ; but he takes 
 his seat in the court of competitors. Here then is a 
 court which may sometimes consist of a hundred mem- 
 bers, sometimes have no members at all; and by that 
 means be for a year abolished. 
 
 The court of competitors has no power in the com- 
 monwealth. It has only the inspection of public ac- 
 counts, and the accusing of any man before the senate. 
 If the senate acquit him, the court of competitors may, 
 if they please, appeal to the people, either magistrates 
 or representatives. Upon that appeal, the magistrates 
 or representatives meet on the day appointed by the 
 court of competitors, and choose in each county three 
 persons, from which number every senator is excluded. 
 These, to the number of 300, meet in the capital, and 
 bring the person accused to a new trial. 
 
 7 he court of competitors may pro])ose any law to 
 the senate ; and if refused, may appeal to the people, 
 that is, to the magistrates or representatives, who ex- 
 amine 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 Chan- 
 cellor and all the officers of the law. 
 
 Every county is a kind of republic within itself, and 
 the representatives may make by-laws, which have no 
 authority till three months after they are voted. A 
 copy of the law is sent to the senate, and to every
 
 IDEA OF A PFRFECT COMMONWEALTH. 569 
 
 other county. The senate, or any single county, 
 may at any time annul any by-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 of- 
 ficers of the revenue in each county. All causes with 
 regard to the revenue are carried ultimately by appeal 
 before the magistrates. They pass the accounts of all 
 the officers ; but must have their own accounts exa- 
 mined and passed at the end of the year by the repre- 
 sentatives. 
 
 The magistrates name rectors or ministers to all the 
 parishes. 
 
 The Presbyterian government is established ; and 
 the highest ecclesiastical court is an assembly or synod 
 of all the presbyters of the county. The magistrates 
 may take any cause from this court, and determine it 
 themselves. 
 
 The magistrates may try, and depose or susjiend 
 any presbyter. 
 
 The militia is established in imitation of that of 
 Swisserland, which, being well known, we shall not in- 
 sist upon it. It will only be proper to make this addi- 
 tion, that an army of 20,000 men be annually drawTi 
 out by rotation, paid and encamped during six weeks 
 in summer, that the duty of a camp may not be alto- 
 gether unknown. 
 
 The magistrates appoint all the colonels, and down- 
 wards. 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 wliich the regiment belongs. The magistrates may
 
 570 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 break any officer in the county regiment ; and the se- 
 nate may do the same to any officer in the service. 
 If the magistrates do not think proper to confirm the 
 general's choice, they may appoint another officer in 
 the phice of him they reject. 
 
 All crimes are tried within the county by the magis- 
 trates and a jury ; but the senate can stop any trial, 
 and briuff it before themselves. 
 
 Any county may indict any man before the senate 
 for any crime. 
 
 The protector, the two secretaries, the council of 
 state, with any five or more that the senate appoints, 
 are possessed, on extraordinary emergencies, of dicta- 
 torial })ower for six months. 
 
 The protector may pardon any person condemned 
 by the inferior courts. 
 
 In time of war, no officer of the army that is in 
 the field can have any civil office in the common- 
 wealth. 
 
 The capital, which we shall call London, may be al- 
 lowed four members in the senate. It may therefore 
 be divided into four counties. The representatives of 
 each of these choose one senator and ten magistrates. 
 Tiiere are therefore in the city four senators, forty- 
 four magistrates, and four hundred representatives. 
 The magistrates have the same authority as in the 
 counties. The representatives also have the same au- 
 thority ; but they never meet in one general court: 
 They give their votes in their particular county or di- 
 vision of hundreds. 
 
 When they enact any by-law, the greater number 
 of counties or divisions determines the matter. AjkI 
 where these are equal, the magistrates have the casthig 
 vote.
 
 IDEA OF A PEIIFECT COMMONWEALTH. 571 
 
 The magistrates choose the mayor, sheriff, record- 
 er, and other officers of the city. 
 
 In tlie commonwealth, no representative, magistrate, 
 or senator as such, has any salary. The protector, 
 secretaries, councils, and ambassadors, have salaries. 
 
 The first year in every century is set apart for cor- 
 recting all inequalities which time may have produced 
 in the representative. This must be done by the le- 
 gislature. 
 
 The following political aphorisms may explain the 
 reason 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 paro- 
 chial meetings, will probably choose the best, or near- 
 ly the best representative : But they are wholly unfit 
 for county meetings, and for electing into the higher 
 offices of the republic. Their ignorance gives the 
 grandees an opportunity of deceiving them. 
 
 Ten thousand, even though they were not annually 
 elected, are a basis large enough for any free govern- 
 ment. It is true, the nobles in Poland are more than 
 10,000, and yet these oppress the people. But as 
 power always continues there in the same persons and 
 families, this makes them in a manner a different na- 
 tion from the people. Besides, the nobles are there 
 united under a few heads of families. 
 
 All free governments must consist of two councils, a 
 lesser and greater, or, in other words, of a senate and 
 people. The 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 disor-.
 
 572 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 der. If not allowed to debate, the senate has a nega- 
 tive upon tliem, and the worst kind of negative, that 
 before resolution. 
 
 Here, therefore. Is an inconvenience which no go- 
 vernment has yet fully remedied, but which is the ea- 
 siest to be remedied in the world. If the people de- 
 bate, all is confusion : If they do not debate, they can 
 only resolve; and then the senate carves for them. 
 Divide the people into many separate bodies, and then 
 they may debate widi 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 daily experience. When an absurdity strikes a 
 member, he conveys it to his neighbour, and so on till 
 the whole be infected. Separate this great body ; and 
 though every member be only of middling sense, it is 
 not probable that any thing but reason can prevail 
 over the whole. Influence and example being remov- 
 ed, good sense will always get die better of bad among 
 a number of people. '' ^ 
 
 Tliere are two things to be guarded against in every 
 senate, its combination and its division. Its combina- 
 tion is most dangerous ; and against this inconvenience 
 we have provided the following remedies : 1. The great 
 dependence of the senators on the people by annual 
 elections ; and that not by an undistinguished rabble, 
 like the English electors, but by men of fortune and 
 education. 2. The small power they are allowed. 
 
 C !» < Good sense is one tiling, but fullifs are numberless; and every 
 man has a difitrent one. Tbe only way of making a people wise, is to 
 keep them from uniting into large assemblies, '— Edixioks F, G, H, N.
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 573 
 
 They have few offices to dispose of. Almost all are 
 given by the matristrates in the counties. 3. The 
 court of competitors, which, being composed of men 
 tliat are their rivals next to them in interest, and un- 
 easy in their present situation, will be sure to take all 
 advantages against them. 
 
 The division of the senate is prevented, 1. By the 
 smallness of their number. 2. As faction supposes a 
 combination in a separate interest, it is prevented by 
 tlieir dependence on the people. 3. They have a power 
 of expelling any factious member. It is true, when 
 another member of the same spirit comes fi*om 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 affiiirs. 4. Almost any man, in a 
 senate so regularly chosen by the people, may be sup- 
 posed fit for any civil office. It would be proper, 
 therefore, for the senate to form some general resolu- 
 tions with regard to the disposing of offices among the 
 members : Which resolutions would not confine them 
 in critical times, when extraordinary parts on the one 
 hand, or extraordinary stupidity on the other, appears 
 in any senator ; but they would be sufficient to prevent 
 intrigue and faction, by making the disposal of the 
 offices a thing of course. For instance, let it be a re- 
 solution, That no man shall enjoy any office till he has 
 sat four years in the senate: That, except ambassa- 
 dors, 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. Sec. 
 The senate of \'enice govern themselves by such reso- 
 tions. 
 
 In foreign politics the interest of the senate can
 
 574 ESSAY xvt. 
 
 scarcely ever be divided from that of the people; and 
 therefore it is fit to make the senate absolute with re- 
 gard to them, otherwise there could be no secrecy or 
 refined policy. Besides, without money no alliance 
 can be executed, and the senate is still sufficiently de- 
 pendent. Not to mention, that the legislative power, 
 being alwaj's superior to the executive, the magistrates 
 or representatives may interpose whenever they think 
 proper. 
 
 The chief support of the British government is the 
 opposition of interest : But that, though in the main 
 serviceable, breeds endless factions. In the foregoing 
 plan, it does all the good without any of the harm. 
 The competitors have no power of controlling the se- 
 nate : They have only the power of accusing, and ap- 
 pealing to the people. 
 
 It is necessary, likewise, to prevent both combina- 
 tion and division in the thousand magistrates. This is 
 done sufficiently by the separation of places and in- 
 terests. 
 
 But, lest that should not lie sufficient, their depend- 
 ence on the 10,000 for their elections serves to the 
 same purpose. 
 
 Nor is that all ; for the 10,000 may resume the 
 power whenever they please, and not only when they 
 all please, but when any five of a hundred please, which 
 will happen upon the very first suspicion of a separate 
 interest. ; 
 
 The 10,000 are too large a body eitlier to unite or 
 divide, except when they meet in one place, and fall 
 under the guidance of ambitious leaders. Not to men- 
 tion their annual election, by the whole body of the 
 people, that are of any consideration. 
 
 A small commonwealth is the happiest government
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 575 
 
 in the world within itself, because every thing lies under 
 the eye of the rulers: But it may be subdued by great 
 force from without. This scheme seems to have all 
 tlie advantiiijes both of a great and a little common- 
 wealth. 
 
 Every county law may be annulled either by the se- 
 nate or another county, because that shows an opposi- 
 tion of interest : In which case no part ought to decide 
 for itself. The matter must be referred to the whole, 
 which will best determine what agrees with general in- 
 terest. 
 
 As to the clergy and militia, the reasons of these 
 orders are obvious. Without the dependence of the 
 clergy on the civil magistrates, and without a militia, 
 it is in vain to think that any free government will ever 
 have security or stability. 
 
 In many governments, the inferior magistrates have 
 no rewards but what arise from their ambition, vanity, 
 or public spirit. The salaries of the French judges 
 amount not to the interest of the sums they pay for 
 their offices. The Dutch burgo-masters have little 
 more immediate profit than the English justices of 
 peace, or the members of the House of Commons for- 
 merly. But lest any should suspect that this would 
 beget negligence in the administration (which is little 
 to be feared, considering the natural ambition of man- 
 kind), let the magistrates have competent salaries. 
 The senators have access to so many honourable and 
 lucrative offices, that their attendance needs not be 
 bought. Their is little attendance required of the re- 
 presentatives. 
 
 That the foregoing plan of government is practica- 
 ble, no one can doubt who considers the resemblance 
 that it bears to the connnonwealth of the United Pro-
 
 5T6 ESSAY xvr. 
 
 vinces, a wise and renowned government. The altera- 
 tions in the present scheme seem all evidently for the 
 better. 1. The representation is more equal. 2. The un- 
 limited power of the burgo-masters in the towns, which 
 forms a perfect aristocracy in the Dutch commonwealth, 
 is corrected by a well-tempered democracy, in giving to 
 the people the annual election of the county represen- 
 tatives. 3. The negative, which every province and 
 town has upon the whole body of the Dutch Republic, 
 with regard to alliances, peace and war, and the impo- 
 sition of taxes, is here removed. 4. The counties, in 
 the present plan, are not so independent of each other, 
 nor do they form separate bodies so much as the seven 
 provinces, where the jealousy and envy of the smaller 
 provinces and towns against the greater, particularly 
 Holland and Amsterdam, have frequently disturbed 
 the government. 5. Larger powers, though of the 
 safest kind, are intrusted to the senate than the States- 
 General possess ; by which means the former may be- 
 come more expeditious and secret in their I'esolutions 
 than it is possible for die latter. 
 
 The cliief alterations that could be made on the Bri- 
 tish government, in order to bring it to the most per- 
 fect model of limited monarchy, seem to be the follow- 
 ing. First, The plan of Cromwell's parliament ought 
 to be restored, by making the representation equal, and 
 by allowing none to vote in the county elections who 
 possess not a property of L.200 value. ^° Secondly, As 
 such a House of Commons would be too weighty for a 
 frail House of Lords, like the present, the Bishops, 
 and Scotch Peers, ouglit to be removed : '' The num- 
 
 T < Who possess not ]00/. a i/ear.' — Editions F, G. 
 
 ~ 1 * Thr TSishops and Scotch Peers ought to be removed, whose beha- 
 viour in FORMER pnrliamcnts destroyed entirclij the aidhoriti/ of that 
 lIuuHc. ■— EuirioNs !•", C, II, N.
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 577 
 
 ber of the upper house ought to be raised to three or 
 four hundrecj : The seats not hereditary, but during 
 life : They ought to have the election of their own mem- 
 bers ; 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 tlie men of chief 
 credit, abilities, and interest in the nation ; and every 
 turbulent leader in the House of Commons mio-ht be 
 taken off, and connected by interest with the House of 
 Peers. Such an aristocracy would be an excellent bar- 
 rier both to the monarchy and against it. At present, 
 the balance of our government depends in some mea- 
 sure on the abilities and behaviour of the sovereio-n : 
 which are variable and uncertain circumstances. 
 
 This plan of limited monarchy, however corrected,' 
 seems still liable to three great inconveniences. First, 
 It removes not entirely, though it may soften the parties 
 of court and country. Secondly, The king's personal 
 character must still have great influence on the govern- 
 ment. Thirdly, The sword is in the hands of a single 
 person, who will always neglect to discipline the mili- 
 tia, in order to have a pretence for keeping up a stand- 
 ing army. '* 
 
 We shall conclude this subject, with observing the 
 falsehood of the common opinion, that no lar^e state, 
 such as France or Great Britain, could ever be model- 
 led into a commonwealth, but that such a form of no- 
 
 7 s2 It is evident that this is a mortal distemper in the British govern- 
 ment, of which it must at last inevitably perish. I must, however, con- 
 fess, that Sweden seems, in some measure, to have remedied this incon- 
 venience, and to have a militia along with its limited monarchy, as well 
 
 as a standing anny, which is less dangerous than the Eritisli Editions 
 
 F, G, H, N. 
 
 VOL. III. O O
 
 378 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 veniniont can only take place in a city or small terri- 
 tory. The contrary seems probable. Though it is 
 more diflicult to form a republican government in an 
 extensive coimtry than in a city, there is more facility, 
 Avhen once it is formed, of preserving it steady and uni- 
 form, without tumult and faction. It is not easy for 
 tlie distant parts of a large state to combine in any plan 
 of free government; but they easily conspire in the 
 esteem and reverence for a single person, who, by 
 means of this popular favour, may seize the power, and 
 forcing the more obstinate to submit, may establish a 
 monarchical government. On the other hand, a city 
 readily concurs in the same notions of government, the 
 natural equality of property favours liberty, and the 
 nearness of habitation enables the citizens mutually to 
 assist each other. Even imder absolute princes, the 
 subordinate government of cities is commonly republi- 
 can ; Avhile that of counties and provinces is monarchi- 
 cal. But these same circumstances, which facilitate the 
 erection of commonwealths in cities, render their consti- 
 tution more frail and uncertain. Democracies are tur- 
 ))ulent. For, however the people may be separated or 
 divided into small parties, either in their votes or elec- 
 tions, their near habitation hi a city will always make 
 the force of popular tides and currents very sensible. 
 Aristocracies are better adapted for peace and order, 
 and accordingly were most admired by ancient writers; 
 but they are jealous and oppressive. In a large go- 
 vernment, which is modelled with masterly skill, there 
 is compass and room enough to refine the democracy, 
 from the lower people who may be admitted into the 
 iirst 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,
 
 IDEA OF A PERFECT COMMONWEALTH. 579 
 
 that it is very diflicult, eitlier by intrigue, prejudice, or 
 passion, to hurry them into any measures against the 
 pubhc interest. 
 
 It is needless to inquire, whether sucli a government 
 woukl be immortah I allow the justness of the poet's ex- 
 clamation on the endless projects of human z'ace, Man 
 and for ever ! The world itself probably is not immor- 
 tal. Such consuming plagues may arise as would leave 
 even a perfect government a weak prey to its neighbours. 
 We know not to what length enthusiasm, or other extra- 
 ordinary movements of the human mind, may transport 
 men to the neglect of all order and public good. Where 
 difference of interest is removed, whimsical unaccount- 
 able factions often arise, from personal favour or en- 
 mity. Perhaps rust may grow to the springs of the 
 most accurate political machine, and cUsorder its mo- 
 tions. Lastly, extensive conquests, when pursued, must 
 be the ruin of every free government ; and of the more 
 perfect governments sooner than of the imperfect ; be- 
 cause of the very advantages which the former possess 
 above the latter. And though such a state ought to 
 establish a fundamental law against conquests, yet re- 
 publics have ambition as well as individuals, and pre- 
 sent interest makes men forgetful of their posterity. It 
 is a sufficient incitement to human endeavours, that 
 such a government would flourish for many ages ; with- 
 out pretending to bestow, on any work of man, that im- 
 mortality which the Almighty seems to have refused to 
 his own productions. 
 
 END OF VOLUME THIRD. 
 
 Printed by J. Hutchison, 
 for the Heirs of D. W'illi^on.
 
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