J 
 
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 MRS. MARTHA E. HALLIDIE. 
 Class 
 
 ftiterarp Utttftttutum, 
 
 MANSION HOUSE, 
 
 HIGH STREET, CAMBERWELL. 
 
 This Volume may be kept JJL & days 
 
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 Value of this Work, 
 
 
AN 
 
 INQUIRY, 
 
 I i 
 
 WITH A VIEW TO ASCERTAIN 
 
 HOW FAR 
 
 NATURE AND EDUCATION 
 
 RESPECTIVELY DETERMINE 
 THE 
 
 MORAL AND INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER 
 
 OF 
 
 sTOTp 
 
 1\/T A XT 
 UNIVERSITY j iVlAJM 
 
 Let us try to trace 
 
 What Good, what Evil, from ourselves proceed: 
 " How best the fickle fabric to support 
 " Of mortal Man, in healthful body how 
 " A healthful mind, the longest to maintain." 
 
 V 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR T. CADELL, IN THE STRAND ; 
 
 AND 
 
 J. AND A. ARCH, CORNHILL. 
 1823. 
 

 J. M'Creery.Tooks-Court, 
 Chaucerj Lane, London. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THOUGH many highly distinguished persons have 
 published their thoughts upon the nature of the 
 Human Mind, yet there appeared to us to be still 
 wanting a familiar analysis of it, that would enable 
 us readily to trace all the actions of man to some 
 decided principles of his nature ; and this, expressly 
 in order to qualify us for conducting either our own 
 or the education of others with more confidence of 
 success. The one we here offer to the Reader we 
 flatter ourselves may afford him a few useful hints, 
 until a far abler pen shall provide him with such 
 as will prove much better calculated to answer the 
 purpose. To make the fruits of our labours how- 
 ever, in the mean time, more acceptable to him, we 
 have freely quoted the words of eminent writers, 
 whenever they particularly answered our purpose, 
 but in doing so, having often found it necessary to 
 transpose periods as well as paragraphs, it became 
 impracticable, to note the parts of the several dis- 
 
IV 
 
 courses whence they were borrowed; but this has 
 not prevented us acknowledging our obligations to 
 the proper authors ; if, therefore, any omissions be 
 made in this particular we here beg pardon. 
 
 To Mr. Locke we are most particularly indebted 
 for assistance;. all extracts made from his immortal 
 " Essay concerning Human Understanding" his 
 Treatise upon Education, and his Conduct of the 
 Understanding, are commonly inserted without a 
 name, but are marked with inverted commas. We 
 have profited greatly likewise by the very celebrated 
 Sermons of Dr. Barrow. 
 
NOTICE. 
 
 IN the following Work we have taken a very superficial sur- 
 vey of some of the Sciences, as classed into three divisions by 
 Mr. Locke, that is, so far as it is connected with the Inquiry 
 before us. We have made an abstract of his doctrine of Ideas 
 of the nature of Language, and the use and the abuse of it 
 of the nature and degrees of Knowledge. 
 
 We have particularly detailed the constitutional resem- 
 blances and differences that appear to us, to exist between 
 children individually, and originally to determine their Moral 
 and Intellectual Character. 
 
 Likewise in what manner apparently the mind and body re- 
 ciprocally influence each other. 
 
 Also how far, such resemblances and differences are likely 
 to require more or less similar, or opposite management, lest 
 we interfere injudiciously, and thus cause evil, where we most 
 earnestly desire to effect good. 
 
 We have enumerated the various excitements and disposi- 
 tions most common to human nature. 
 
VI 
 
 The consideration of his dispositions naturally led us to 
 reflect upon the evils man suffers, and to aim at discerning 
 which of them are inherent in him, and which probably owing 
 to his blindness, perverseness, or neglect. 
 
 We crave the reader's indulgence for having, in enumerat- 
 ing the dispositions, used sometimes the noun, sometimes the 
 verb, but we found it answer our purpose better. Shall we be 
 pardoned for having applied the words, Reserved, Unreserved ; 
 Decisive, Indecisive; to denote distinctions of characters? 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Pagt 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PRELIMINARY Discourse 1 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 It seems of little importance to us to know whether our Ideas 
 be Innate or not Thing, Idea, Quality Principal divi- 
 sion of the Sciences Abstract of Mr. Locke's Doctrine of 
 Ideas Of the nature of Language, and the use, and the 
 abuse of it 9 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Of Man Power Action Corporeal Powers Native Cha- 
 racter Mental Powers Excitements Principal Directing 
 Dispositions Primary Dispositions Indescribable Natu- 
 ral Peculiarities Circumstances Original, Acquired, and 
 General Character Children of the same family often differ 
 as widely from each other as from the rest of the species . 40 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Of the Soul or Mind, Understanding, Sensibility, Volition 
 Of the Body, Senses, Sensation Indifference Tempera- 
 ment Desire Temper Dispositions Differences of 
 Temperament and of Temper Prevailing Dispositions how 
 discerned Thought, Reflection The several faculties of 
 the Understanding Genius, Imagination Wit, Humour, 
 Mimickry, &c. Cleverness Dexterity Taste .... 56 
 
Vlll 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Page 
 
 Knowledge, Ignorance. Degrees of Knowledge Truth, Er- 
 ror Mutable, Immutable Truth Moral Truth, Falsehood 
 Belief, Opinion, Probability, Certainty, Doubt Con- 
 jecture Assent, Dissent Concatenation of Ideas Asso- 
 ciation of Ideas .......... ..... 79 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Pleasure and Pain Love and Hatred Hope and Fear . . 104 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Self-Love Social Love Sympathy ......... 114 
 
 CHAPTER VIH. 
 
 Desire of Happiness. Desire of Reward, and Fear of Pu- 
 nishment Conscience Reason, Faith Enthusiasm, Ex- 
 tasy True or Abstract Virtue and Vice, or Moral right 
 and wrong Arbitrary Virtue and Vice, or Moral right and 
 wrong Good and Evil Moral Good and Evil Reward 
 and Punishment Prejudice, Superstition Toleration, Bi- 
 gotry Credulity, Scepticism ..........' 140 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Volition, Desire, Wish Liberty Willing, Unwilling Free- 
 agency Fatality Insurmountable and Arbitrary Neces- 
 sity _ Desire of Ease Desire of Ease the principal motive 
 to action Substance Matter, Spirit Real Existence 
 The existence of a God Piety ......... 170 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Of Speech Desire of Praise, and Fear of Blame .... 207 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Ambition Desire of Pleasure Desire of Independence- 
 Desire of Power and of Wealth ......... 226 
 
IX 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Page 
 
 Pride Vanity Desire of Change Desire of Novelty 
 Curiosity Desire of Occupation 247 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Primary Dispositions Consistency, Inconsistency . . . 271 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Experience Wisdom, Folly Prudence, Imprudence 
 Cause and Effect Design, Chance Habit, Custom, 
 Fashion Example, Precept Master, or Ruling Passion 291 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Systems of Education futile Principal causes of the great 
 diversity of opinions entertained upon the subject of Edu- 
 cation Two sorts of Education to be carefully distin- 
 guished the Education of a Child to be suited to his 
 powers, character and situation in life Good Habits con- 
 stitute a good Education 324 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Simplicity, Affectation Civility, Good-breeding The fun- 
 damental principles of Education applicable to both sexes 338 
 
 Recapitulation 353 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Page 20, line 24, for manner read manna. 
 
 37, 35, for beings read being. 
 
 148, 12, for compare read compose. 
 
 207, " Of Speech," is from Barrow. 
 
-Of THE 
 
 ( UNIVERSITY 
 
 AN 
 
 INQUIRY, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PRELIMINARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 A N Inquiry into the several Powers, Excitements, and Dispo* 
 sitions of the Human Mind, seems naturally to lead us to the 
 consideration of the most suitable mode of Educating it ; but 
 he who attempts the discovery of the most rational mode of 
 educating it, without having first examined what are its powers, 
 excitements, and dispositions, must often find himself extremely 
 at a loss to determine, Whether his proposed management is 
 conformable, not only to the general nature of man, but likewise, 
 to the peculiar constitution of the individual he proposes to 
 render virtuous, healthy, and intelligent. If we be ignorant of 
 the different ways in which the mind operates, and is affected 
 by its own thoughts and external objects, how can we reason- 
 ably hope successfully to encourage, regulate and restrain its 
 very various impulses, according as circumstances may require ? 
 But in order to satisfy ourselves of the justness of our suppo- 
 sitions, we ought, as we proceed, to endeavour also to learn, In 
 what manner nature commonly manifests her approbation or 
 disapprobation of our conduct, in other words, what are most 
 evidently her intentions in the moral world. 
 
 B 
 
We do not entertain a wish to controvert, nor to establish 
 any system whatsoever; we only desire to convey to the reader, 
 the result of our own general observations and reflections upon 
 the nature and education of man, in as intelligible language as 
 we can command. It is a trite observation, that no one is free 
 from error, we have therefore ventured to declare our dissent 
 in opinion, upon some very few points, from the highest autho- 
 rities. This dissent arises, perhaps, from our not having seen 
 the same things in so distinct a point of view as they have 
 done ; but should we have proved successful in correcting two 
 or three of their mistakes, we have ourselves doubtless, at the 
 same time, furnished numerous examples of the fallibility of 
 human judgment. We trust, however, we are such sincere 
 lovers of truth, that we shall derive unfeigned satisfaction to 
 find others, as willing as they may be capable, of correcting 
 what we have done amiss. 
 
 Mr. Locke, when he attempted to distinguish the various 
 sorts of ideas we entertain, was under the necessity of invent- 
 ing some new terms, and of applying some old ones in a new 
 sense, because he had acquired notions not before appre- 
 hended; thus he called some of our ideas Simple, others Com- 
 plex; some Simple Modes, others Mixed Modes, &c. both 
 for his own convenience, and also in order to convey his mean- 
 ing more clearly to his readers. But if we will follow his ad- 
 vice, and fix our attention to the consideration of things instead 
 of words, we cannot fail to perceive, that he was intent upon 
 describing the several powers he imagined he had discerned 
 in the human understanding, and the varieties of the ideas 
 that give it exercise, without having any exclusive preference 
 for certain words, or being in any way anxious, to introduce 
 any particular terms of his own coining or application into 
 common use. Indeed he says in answer to the Bishop of 
 Worcester, " I would, for the satisfaction of your lordship, 
 change the term idea for a better, if your lordship or any one 
 
could help me to it ; for that notion will not so well stand for 
 every immediate object of the mind in thinking, as idea does. 
 I have (as I guess) somewhere given a reason in my book, by 
 shewing, that the term notion is more peculiarly appropriated 
 to a certain sort of those objects, which I call mixed modes : 
 and I think it would not sound altogether so well to say the 
 notion of red, and the notion of a horse, as the idea of red, 
 and the idea of a horse. But if any one think it will, I con- 
 tend not, for I have no fondness for, nor any antipathy to any 
 particular articulate sounds ; nor do I think there is any spell 
 or fascination in any of them." 
 
 " Names are but the arbitrary marks of conceptions ; and so 
 they be sufficiently appropriated to them in their use, I know 
 no other difference any of them have in particular, but as they 
 are of easy or difficult pronunciation, or of a more or less 
 pleasant sound, and what particular antipathies there may be 
 in men to some of these upon that account, is not easy to be 
 foreseen." We commonly say we have a notion of dancing, 
 sailing, of mathematics, &c. 
 
 When we speak of material things we may make our mean- 
 ing, in most cases, well understood, by causing them to affect 
 the senses ; but in treating of the powers and operations of 
 the mind, we must unavoidably depend entirely upon the 
 candour and sagacity of the reader ; for the only assistance 
 we can afford him besides words, is to suggest some comparison 
 to him, that may be made with sensible objects, applicable to 
 the case in point. Abstraction, for instance, may possibly be 
 better understood, when a person is told to imagine the pulp 
 of any fruits removed, so that none but the germinating parts 
 remain ; and that then, instead of being classed under the 
 genus fruit, they would come under the yet more general term 
 seed, as all fruit is seed, but all seed is not fruit ; so likewise 
 all men are animals, but all animals are not men. 
 
 " The infinite wise Creator of us and of all things about 
 
4 
 
 us, hath fitted our senses, faculties, and organs, to know 
 and distinguish things, and. to examine them so far as to 
 apply them to our uses, and in several ways to accommodate 
 them to the exigencies of this life* We have insight enough 
 into their admirable contrivances and wonderful effects, to 
 admire and magnify the wisdom, power, and goodness of 
 their Author: but it appears not that God intended we should 
 have a perfect, clear, and adequate knowledge of them, that 
 perhaps is not within the comprehension of a finite being." 
 
 " As the want of ideas which our faculties are not able to 
 give us, shuts us wholly from the view of some things, so the 
 want of those ideas within our reach, keeps us in ignorance of 
 others we conceive ourselves capable of apprehending. Bulk, 
 figure, and motion, we have ideas of. But, though we are 
 not without ideas of these primary qualities of bodies in gene- 
 ral, yet not knowing what is the particular bulk, figure, and 
 motion, of the greatest part of the bodies of the universe, we 
 are ignorant of the several powers, efficacies, and ways of 
 operation, whereby the effects which we daily see, are pro- 
 duced. These are hid from us in some things by being too 
 remote, in others by being too minute. When we consider 
 the vast distance of the known and visible parts of the world, 
 and the reasons we have to think, that what lies within our ken, 
 is but a small part of the universe, we shall then discover a 
 huge abyss of ignorance* What are the particular fabrics 
 of the great masses of matter, which make up the whole stu- 
 pendous frame of corporeal beings, how far they are extended, 
 what is their motion, and how continued or communicated, 
 and what influence they have upon one another, are contem- 
 plations in which our thoughts are lost at the first glimpse : 
 and if we narrow our view, and confine it to this canton? I 
 mean this system of our sun, and the grosser masses of matter 
 which visibly move about it; what several sorts of vegetables, 
 animals, and intellectual corporeal beings, infinitely different 
 
from those of our little spot of earth, may there not be in the 
 other planets, to the knowledge of which, even of their out- 
 ward figures and parts, we can no way attain ? There are no 
 natural means, either by sensation or reflection, to convey 
 clear ideas of them into our minds, whilst we remain in this 
 nether world." 
 
 " Another cause of ignorance, of no less moment, is a want 
 of a discoverable connexion between those ideas we have. 
 It is evident, for instance, that the bulk, figure, and motion of 
 several bodies about us, produce in us several sensations, as 
 of colours, sounds, tastes, smells, pleasure and pain, &c. yet 
 these mechanical affections of bodies having no affinity at all 
 with those ideas they produce in us, (there being no conceiv- 
 able connexion between any impulse of any sort of body, and 
 any perception of a colour or smell, which we find in our 
 minds) we can have no distinct knowledge of such operations 
 beyond our experience ; and can reason no otherwise about 
 them, than as being the effects produced by the appointment 
 of an infinitely wise Agent, and as perfectly surpassing our 
 comprehensions. As the ideas of sensible secondary qualities 
 which we have in our minds, can by us be no way deduced 
 from bodily causes, nor any correspondence or connexion be 
 found between them and those primary qualities which (expe- 
 rience shews us) produce them in us ; so, on the other side, 
 the operation of our minds upon our bodies is equally incon- 
 ceivable. How any thought should produce a motion in body, 
 is as remote from the nature of our ideas, as how any body 
 should produce any thought in the mind. If experience did 
 not convince us that it is so, the consideration of the things 
 themselves would never be able, in the least, to discover it to 
 us." 
 
 " Respecting the immateriality of the soul, if our faculties 
 cannot arrive at demonstrative certainty, we need not think it 
 strange. He who considers with what difficulty sensation is 
 
6 
 
 in our thoughts reconcileable to extended matter, or existence 
 to any thing that has no extension at all, will confess he is 
 very far from certainly knowing what his soul is. It is a point 
 ivhich seems to me placed out of the reach of our knowledge : 
 and he who will give himself leave to look into the dark and 
 intricate part of each hypothesis, will scarce find his reason 
 able to determine him fixedly for, or against the soul's mate- 
 riality : since on which side soever he views it, either as an 
 unextended substance, or as a thinking extended matter, the 
 difficulty to conceive either will, whilst either alone is in his 
 thoughts, still drive him to the contrary side. There are men 
 who, because of the inconceivableness of something they find 
 in one, throw themselves violently into the contrary hypothe- 
 sis, though altogether as unintelligible to an unbiassed under- 
 standing ; an unfair way of proceeding, that serves not only 
 to shew the weakness and the scantiness of our knowledge, 
 but the insignificant triumph of such sorts of arguments; which 
 though they may satisfy us, that we can find no certainty in 
 one side of the question, do not at all thereby assure us of 
 being nearer the truth, should we adopt the opposite opinion. 
 But what safety, what advantage is it to any one, who in order 
 to avoid the seeming absurdities, and to him insurmountable 
 rubs he meets with in one opinion, to take refuge in the con- 
 trary, which is as far remote from his comprehension? It is 
 past controversy, that we have in us something that thinks. 
 Our very doubts about what it is, confirm the certainty of its 
 being, though we must content ourselves in the ignorance of 
 what kind of being it is : and I would fain know, what sub- 
 stance exists, that has not something in it that manifestly baf- 
 fles our understanding." 
 
 " Thus, after a due examination of the various parts of 
 nature, whether they relate to Matter or to Spirit, we arrive at 
 the conclusion, that the secret abstract nature of either the 
 one or the other, is from all we have yet discovered, equally 
 
beyond the reach of our capacities, but that their powers 
 and operations are as equally the proper objects of our 
 study." 
 
 " And of what consequence the discovery of one natural 
 body and its properties may be to human life, the whole great 
 continent of America is a convincing instance ; for the useful 
 arts, and the greatest part of the conveniences of life, being 
 unknown in a country which abounded with all sorts of na- 
 tural productions, may, I suspect, be attributed to their igno- 
 rance of what was to be found in a very ordinary despicable 
 stone, I mean the mineral of iron. And whatever we think 
 of our parts or improvements in Europe, where knowledge 
 and plenty seem to vie with each other, yet to any one who 
 will seriously reflect on it, it will, I suppose, appear past doubt, 
 that were the use of iron lost among us, we should in a few 
 ages unavoidably be reduced to the wants and ignorance of 
 the ancient savage Americans, whose natural endowments and 
 provisions come no way short of those, of the most flourishing 
 and polite nations. So that he who first made known the use 
 of iron, may be truly styled the father of arts and the author 
 of plenty." 
 
 Yet in Europe even, after the lapse of so many ages, and 
 the rise and downfal of such numerous and variously governed 
 societies of men, how little progress have we made in the arts 
 and sciences, comparatively with what it is supposed, the per- 
 severing and well-directed industry of man is likely hereafter 
 to accomplish. 
 
 Both vice and disease, for example, are upon the whole so 
 little diminished amongst people of all ranks, that we may 
 reasonably conclude the art of educating man is amongst 
 others in its very infancy, notwithstanding the many valuable 
 works published upon the subject, and the very judicious 
 improvements introduced in the mode of conveying instruction 
 to youth. By continually aiming however, also to discover the 
 
8 
 
 means of commonly exciting in him the determination, duly to 
 regulate his several inclinations, as well as to obtain various 
 and useful knowledge, we may reasonably hope, gradually to 
 effect the general improvement in health, and the reformation 
 in manners, so long and so ardently desired by every friend to 
 humanity. 
 
 We are ignorant of the real essence of a horse, but the 
 more we know from experience the extent of his powers and 
 properties, &c. the better we understand how to feed, shelter, 
 and shoe him; how to accommodate his accoutrements, la- 
 bours, &c. to his strength and make, so as to obtain the 
 greatest and most durable advantages possible from his ser- 
 vices ; and by studying his general dispositions, we discover by 
 what mode of treatment he is most successfully to be rendered 
 docile, and yet remain spirited and active. 
 
 Though we find the active exercise of the mind in many 
 cases incompatible with the busy employment of the hands, yet 
 whatever be a man's calling in life, a quick perception and 
 ready judgment respecting the operations that concern his 
 particular trade or profession, not only prove of great advan- 
 tage to himself, as serving both to lighten his labours, and to 
 increase his profits, but are necessarily also of considerable 
 importance to the community at large, that either benefits by 
 his skill, or suffers from his ignorance or want of force or 
 dexterity in the execution of his work : whence we may infer, 
 that a judicious education, tending more or less to perfect the 
 several faculties of man, is commanded both by Reason and 
 Humanity, whether he be the offspring of a prince or a pea- 
 sant. 
 

 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It seems of little importance to us to know, whether our Ideas be Innate or not. 
 Thing, Idea, Quality. Principal Division of the Sciences. Abstract of Mr. 
 Locke's Doctrine of Ideas. Of the nature of Language, and the use, and the 
 abuse of it. 
 
 It seems of little importance to us to know, whether our Ideas 
 be Innate or not. 
 
 TRIFLING probably, would be the advantage we should derive 
 from ascertaining, even beyond a doubt, whether our ideas be 
 Innate or not, or how far they may be so ; provided we do not 
 deny, that the stock of them may be infinitely increased by the 
 active exercise of our senses and reasoning faculties ; and that 
 we do not attempt prematurely to force their entrance into 
 the mind, i. e. before it is fitted to receive them ; we say fitted 
 to receive them, because an idea that is not understood, is 
 but an insignificant sound. Jurisprudence, for instance, though 
 a very significant term when properly used, is an incompre- 
 hensible idea to one yet in his infancy. 
 
 It has been asserted, that " most of Mr. Locke's arguments 
 against innate ideas are founded upon an ambiguous accepta- 
 tion of the words idea and innate /" but he surely expresses 
 himself with great perspicuity upon this subject. 
 
 " It is an established opinion amongst some men, that there 
 are in the understanding certain innate principles, some pri- 
 mary notions or characters, as it were, stamped upon the mind 
 pf man, which the soul receives in its very first being, and 
 
10 
 
 brings into the world with it. It would be sufficient to con- 
 vince unprejudiced readers of the falseness of this supposition, 
 if I should only shew how men, barely by the use of their 
 natural faculties, may attain to all the knowledge they have, 
 without the help of any innate impressions ; and may arrive at 
 certainty, without any such original notions or principles. For 
 I imagine any one will easily grant, that it would be impertinent 
 to suppose the idea of colours innate in a creature to whom 
 God hath given sight, and a power to receive them by the 
 eyes from external objects ; and no less unreasonable would it 
 be, to attribute several truths to the impressions of nature and 
 innate characters, when we may observe in ourselves, faculties 
 fit to attain as easy and certain knowledge of them, as if they 
 were originally imprinted on the mind." 
 
 " The senses first let in particular ideas, and furnish the 
 yet empty cabinet, and the mind by degrees growing familiar 
 with some of them, they are lodged in the memory, and names 
 got to them. Afterwards the mind proceeding farther ab- 
 stracts them, and by degrees learns the use of general names. 
 In this manner the mind comes to be furnished with ideas and 
 language, the materials about which to exercise its discursive 
 faculty ; and the use of reason becomes daily more visible, as 
 these materials, which give it employment, increase. External 
 material things then as the objects of sensation, and the ope- 
 ration of our own minds within, as the objects of reflection, 
 are, in my opinion, the only originals whence all our ideas take 
 their beginning." 
 
 " Children when they come first into the world, are sur- 
 rounded by new objects which constantly excite their curi- 
 osity ; and a variety of ideas, whether care be taken of it or 
 no, are imprinted on their minds. But though the ideas of 
 obvious and familiar qualities, imprint themselves before the 
 memory begins to keep a register of time or order, yet it is 
 often so late before some unusual qualities come in the way, 
 
11 
 
 that there are few men who cannot recollect the beginning of 
 their acquaintance with them." 
 
 " Now as the mind, by the means of the senses, comes more 
 and more to be furnished with ideas, it comes to be more and 
 more awake ; thinks more, the more it has to think on ; and we 
 may observe how by degrees it improves in the exercise of the 
 faculty it has, of enlarging, compounding, and abstracting its 
 ideas, and of reasoning and reflecting upon them." 
 
 " Thus the human capacity is fitted to receive the impres- 
 sions made on it, either through the senses by outward objects, 
 or by its own operations when it reflects on them. It is by 
 these steps man advances towards the most sublime disco- 
 veries, and the mind, when elevated by those thoughts which 
 tower above the clouds, and reach as high as Heaven itself, 
 extends not an iota beyond the ideas, which sensation or re- 
 flection have offered to its contemplation." 
 
 " To ask at what time a man has first any idea, is to ask 
 when he begins to perceive, having ideas, and having percep- 
 tion, being the same thing. But whether the soul be supposed 
 to exist antecedent to, or coeval with, or some time after, the 
 first rudiments or organization on the beginning of life in the 
 body, I leave to be disputed by those who have better thought 
 of that matter." 
 
 Thus we see Mr. Locke most evidently makes the same dis- 
 tinction between idea and innate, as between having an idea 
 what sleep is, and the actually going to sleep. The mind 
 may or may not at any time entertain the idea of what sleep 
 is, but the propensity to sleep is inherent in our nature, or is 
 innate, or born with us, and thus we suppose a child falls 
 asleep, without having any idea what sleep means. 
 
 Thing, Idea, Quality. 
 
 The most universal term we have is Thing ; for it includes 
 God ; Spirits ;. Finite Intelligences ; Bodies ; Ideas ; in other 
 
12 
 
 words, the great Creator of all ; all immortal beings ; all mortal 
 beings ; all substances whatsoever ; all that can be known or 
 imagined by the mind of man. 
 
 " Whatsoever the mind perceives in itself, or is the imme- 
 diate object of perception, thought, or understanding, that I 
 call Idea; and the power to produce any idea in thejtnind, I 
 call Quality of the subject wherein that power_is. Thus a 
 snow-ball having the power to produce in us the ideas of 
 white, cold, round, the pojwers to produce those ideas in us as 
 they are injke snow-ball. I call qualities ; and as they are sen- 
 sations or perceptions in our understanding* I call them ideas" 
 
 Some things, doubtless, exist, of which we have not any 
 idea, and others most certainly do, of which we have no de- 
 termined nor adequate ideas ; and we have ideas of things that 
 have no existence ; consequently, Things and Ideas must neces- 
 
 di^-tfJ-^. fi#~- f**ti~CUJt <r&fit-^ 
 
 , sarily be distinct. Ideas^are the images or pictures of things 
 
 /as entertained by the mind, just as bodies are reflected in a 
 
 Vmirror, but a mirror cannot, like the mind, receive or retain any 
 
 \ image independent of the thing; neither can it reflect any 
 
 thing that is not embodied. God himself, and our idea of God, 
 
 are two as distinct, things, as it is possible to conceive, 
 
 /3-tf^^e-^-' O^-rfy^" l*~*-s e-Lc*.^ t~-S * ! -2z~2}~*' **-*- tQj^c-ji <V^- /J -* 
 
 * tr 
 
 Principal Division of the Sciences. 
 
 " All that can fall within the compass of human understand- 
 ing being, First, the Nature of things as they are in themselves, 
 their Relations, and their manner of Operation : or Secondly 
 that which man himself ought to do, as a rational and volun- 
 tary agent, for the attainment of any end, especially Happiness : 
 or Thirdly, the ways and means by which the Knowledge of 
 both the one and the other of these is attained and communi- 
 cated : Science may be divided into three sorts." 
 
 " First, the knowledge of things as they are in their own 
 proper beings, their constitutions, properties, and operations ; 
 whereby I mean, not only Matter and Body, but Spirits also, 
 
13 
 
 which have their proper natures, constitutions, and operations, 
 as well as bodies. This is Natural Philosophy. The end of 
 this is bare speculative truth ; and whatsoever can afford any 
 such to the mind of man, comes under this branch, whether it 
 be God himself, angels, spirits, or bodies." 
 
 " Secondly, the skill of rightly applying our own powers 
 and actions for the attainment of things good and useful : the 
 most considerable under this head is Ethics, which is the 
 seeking out those rules and measures of human actions, which 
 lead to Happiness, and the means to practise them. The end 
 of this is not bare speculation and the knowledge of truth, but 
 Right, and a conduct suitable to it." 
 
 " Thirdly, the third branch may be called the doctrine of 
 Signs, the most usual whereof being words, it is also aptly 
 enough termed Logic. The mind makes use of these signs 
 for the understanding of things, or conveying its knowledge 
 to others. The consideration, then, of words, as the great 
 instrument of knowledge, makes no despicable part of their 
 contemplation, who would take a view of the whole extent of 
 Human Knowledge." 
 
 Physica. 
 
 Natural Philosophy, or Physiology. 
 
 Most of the Arts and Sciences that the wit and industry of 
 man has established, may be classed under this head ; but we 
 shall only particularly notice Metaphysics, as being immediately 
 connected with our present examination. 
 
 Metaphysics. 
 
 Metaphysics are defined to be " the doctrine of the general 
 affections of substances." For instance, the Constitution of 
 the Mind, its Powers, Manner of Operating, fyc. Mr. Locke 
 has, we imagine, most clearly distinguished the several intel- 
 lectual faculties we have ; the varieties of ideas we entertain ; 
 and the degrees of knowledge they afford us. 
 
Practica. 
 Ethics. 
 
 Ethics includes the sciences both of Education and of Go- 
 vernment. 
 
 Education* 
 
 The science of Education is supposed to suggest the most 
 effectual means, of bringing to the perfection they are seve- 
 rally capable of, both the mental and corporeal powers or 
 faculties of children, in order to their attaining " a sound mind 
 in a sound body." 
 
 Government. 
 
 Government or Politics we may define to be, the science of 
 framing, establishing, and enforcing of just laws, for the gene- 
 ral benefit of any community of men, by the promotion of 
 virtue, and the suppression of vice amongst them. Education 
 more particularly concerns individual happiness ; Government, 
 national prosperity. 
 
 Logica. 
 
 Under this head we class Language and Signs, Grammar, 
 Rhetoric, Logic, and Orthography. 
 
 Language Signs. 
 
 (f Man has his organs so fashioned by nature, as to be fit 
 to frame Articulate Sounds, which we call Words, and these 
 sounds are used as Signs of internal conceptions, whereby the 
 thoughts of men's minds are conveyed from one to another." 
 As words are made signs of ideas, so are certain formed Cha- 
 racters arbitrarily appointed to be the signs or symbols of 
 words. These two sorts of signs are what we call Oral and 
 Written language. 
 
15 
 
 Grammar. 
 
 Making ourselves fully acquainted with the characters of 
 any language, our next object must be, to use them in such a 
 manner as to avoid ambiguity. It is the province of Grammar 
 therefore, to teach us how to class them, in order that we may 
 assign to each its proper place in any discourse, so as to speak 
 or write with perspicuity. 
 
 Rhetoric. 
 
 Grammar having determined, by what means we may avoid 
 ambiguity, Rhetoric communicates to us the art of conveying 
 our thoughts to others with clearness, force, and elegancy, so 
 
 as to instruct, persuade, and delight them. 
 / 
 
 Logic. 
 
 Logic directs us to the most profitable use of our reasoning 
 faculties, so as to improve not only our own understanding, 
 but to enlighten mankind ; and this it does, by professing to 
 shew us the best method, of tracing the mutual and various 
 relations there must always naturally exist, between conse- 
 quences and their premises, i. e. between causes and their 
 effects. 
 
 Orthography. 
 
 Orthography makes known to us the proper way of both 
 Writing and Spelling the signs or character of words, accord- 
 ing to the most universally approved manner. 
 
 " This seems to me the first and most general, as well as 
 natural division of the objects of our understanding. For a 
 man can employ his thoughts but in one of these three ways : 
 either in the contemplation of Things themselves, for the dis- 
 covery of truth ; or about his own Actions, for the attainment 
 of his own ends ; or about the Signs, the mind makes use of 
 both in the one and the other, and the right ordering of them 
 
16 
 
 for its clearer information. Which three, viz. Things, as they 
 are themselves Knowable; Actions as they depend on us to 
 obtain Happiness; and the right use of Signs in order to 
 Knowledge; appear to me, to be the three great provinces of 
 the intellectual world, and wholly separate and distinct from 
 one another." 
 
 An Abstract of Mr. Locke's Doctrine of Ideas. 
 
 A celebrated writer of the present age, whom Mr. Locke 
 would have been proud to have called his friend, does not 
 estimate the second book of his Essay quite so highly as the 
 other three ; yet it appears to us, to be also deserving of consi- 
 derable attention. Mr. Locke's division of ideas may possibly 
 be very defective, but still it is capable of conveying to the mind 
 such distinct notions of their several varieties, as to induce us 
 to attempt making a concise abstract of it in this place, in 
 order to the better understanding the nature of language, 
 which we shall shortly take into consideration. 
 
 The first great distinction that seems to have presented 
 itself to Mr. Locke, was, that some of our ideas are Simple, 
 and some Complex ; the simple ideas white or red, soft or hardy 
 an unit, &c. for example, are not definable, yet can be very 
 readily understood by anyone having sight or feeling ; whereas, 
 the complex ideas comedy, glory, faith, &c. can be all more or 
 less easily defined, and yet are extremely liable to be diffe- 
 rently interpreted ; a savage, for instance, would readily com- 
 prehend the idea of any colour or sound, &c. upon hearing the 
 name repeated and perceiving the thing ; but could scarcely be 
 made to understand the meaning of such a word as equivocal. 
 Simple ideas are only to be got by those impressions objects 
 themselves make on our minds, by the proper inlets appointed 
 to each sort ; if they be not received this way, all the words 
 in the world made use of to explain or define any of them, 
 
17 
 
 will never be able to produce in us the idea it stands for. He 
 that thinks otherwise, let him try if any words can give him 
 the taste of a pine-apple. So far as he is told it has a resem- 
 blance with any tastes, whereof he has the ideas already in 
 his memory, imprinted there by sensible objects, so far may 
 he approach that resemblance in his mind. But this is not 
 giving us that idea by a definition, it is only exciting in us 
 other simple ideas by their known names $ and the idea of 
 it so received, will still be very different from the true fla- 
 vour of that delicious fruit itself. It is the same with light 
 and colours, and all other simple ideas. For to hope to 
 produce an idea of light and colours by a sound, however 
 formed, is to expect that sounds should be visible, or colours 
 audible, and to make the ears do the office of all the other 
 senses ; which is all one as to say, that we might taste, smell, 
 and see, by the ears, a sort of philosophy worthy only of 
 Sancho Pana, who had the faculty to see Dulcinea by hear- 
 say. The case is quite otherwise in Complex ideas, which 
 consisting of several simple ones, it is in the power of words, 
 standing for the several ideas which make that composition, 
 to imprint them in the mind. He that should use the word 
 rainbow to one who knew all those colours, but had never seen 
 that phenomenon, would by enumerating the figure, largeness, 
 position, and order of the colours, so well define that word, 
 that it might be perfectly understood ; yet that definition, how 
 exact and perfect soever, would never make a blind man un- 
 derstand it, because several of the simple ideas which make 
 that complex one, being such as he never received by sensa- 
 tion and experience, no words would be able to excite them 
 in his mind." 
 
 Mr. Locke distinguishes the several simple ideas that are 
 received by each respective sense, and some of them by more- 
 senses than one; thus we say, such tilings are visible, or au- 
 dible, or tangible, or palatable, or odoriferous, and we can 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 both see and feel number, figure, motion, and rest, &c. We 
 see the whiteness of sugar-candy, we taste the sweetness of 
 it, we feel its hardness and weight, and we both see and feel 
 the size, figure, or shape of it, consequently, sugar-candy 
 is a complex idea, formed of so many simple ones, each of 
 which are so many distinct ideas or perceptions in our minds. 
 Upon its being pounded however, we cannot distinguish the 
 shape of each grain, and, instead of unity, we have the idea 
 of innumerable parts. But simple ideas are not capable of 
 any other change, than of degrees, as white, whiter ; heavy, 
 heavier ; hard, harder ; sweet, sweeter, &c. 
 
 " Although the names of simple ideas have not the help of 
 definition to determine their signification, yet that hinders not, 
 but they are generally less doubtful and uncertain than those 
 of mixed modes and substances. He that knows once, that 
 whiteness is the name of that colour, he has observed in snow 
 or milk, is not likely to misapply that word as long as he re- 
 tains that idea. This farther may be observed concerning 
 Dimple ideas and their names, that they have but few ascents 
 in lined prcedicamentali, (as they call it) from the lowest species 
 to the summum genus. The reason whereof is, that the lowest 
 species being but one simple idea, nothing can be left out of 
 it ; that so the difference being taken away, it may agree with 
 .some other thing in one idea, common to them both, viz. 
 there is nothing that can be left out of the ideas of white or 
 red, to make them agree in one common appearance, and so 
 have one general name, as rationality being left out of the 
 complex idea Man, makes it agree with brute in the more 
 general idea and name Animal; and therefore, when to 
 avoid unpleasant enumerations, men would comprehend both 
 white and red, and several other such simple ideas'under one 
 general name ; they have been fain to do it by a word, which 
 denotes only the way they get into the mind. For when 
 white, red, and yellow, are all comprehended under the genus* 
 
19 
 
 or name, colour, it signifies no more, than that such ideas are 
 produced in the mind only by the sight, and have entrance 
 only through the eyes. And when they would frame a yet 
 more general term, to comprehend both colours and sounds, 
 and the like simple ideas, they do it by a word, that signifies 
 all such as come into the mind only by one sense ; and so the 
 general term Quality, in its ordinary acceptation, comprehends 
 colours, sounds, tastes, smells, and tangible qualities, with dis- 
 tinction, from extension, number, motion, pleasure, and pain 
 which make impressions on the mind by more senses than 
 one." 
 
 Complex ideas are divided into Simple Modes, Mixed 
 Modes, Substances, and Relations. 
 
 " Simple Modes are only variations or different combina- 
 tions of the same simple idea without the mixture of any other, 
 as a dozen or score, which are nothing but the ideas of so 
 many distinct units added together, and these I call simple 
 modes, as being contained within the bounds of one simple 
 idea. These modifications of any one simple idea, are each 
 of them as perfectly different and distinct ideas in the mind, 
 as those of the greatest contrariety ; for the idea of two is as 
 distinct from one, as blueness from heat, or either of them 
 from any number. Modes of Space, are a square, cubic, feet, 
 yards, fathoms, immeasurable space, &c. Modes of Dura- 
 tion, a minute, hour, day, time, eternity. Modes of Motion, 
 jumping, leaping, skipping, dancing, &c. and so of some 
 others." 
 
 " Mixed Modes are arbitrary combinations of ideas, 
 whether simple or complex, that the mind, though com- 
 monly with some restrictions, makes at pleasure, and ties 
 together by a name, such are ship, carriage, obligation, 
 murder, law, divinity, good-breeding, &c. This shews us 
 how it comes to pass, that there are in every language, many 
 particular words which cannot be rendered by any one single 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 word of another. For the several fashions, customs* and 
 manners^ of one nation, making several combinations of ideas- 
 familiar and necessary, which another people have never had 
 occasion to unite, or perhaps so much as take notice of, 
 names come of course to be annexed to them, to avoid long 
 periphrases in things of daily conversation, and so become so- 
 many distinct complex ideas in their minds. How great a 
 number of different ideas are by this means, wrapt up in 
 one short sound, and how much of our time and breath is 
 thereby saved, any one may see who will but take the pains 
 to enumerate all the ideas, which either reprieve or appeal 
 stand for." 
 
 Substances. " The ideas which make up our complex 
 ones of Corporeal Substances, are of these three sorts : first, 
 the ideas of the Primary qualities of things, and which exist 
 even when we perceive them not; such are the bulk, figure, 
 number, situation, and motion of the parts of bodies. Se~ 
 eondly, the sensible secondary qualities, which depend on the 
 first, and are nothing but the powers those substances have to 
 produce several ideas in our minds, such as colours, tastes, 
 smells, &c., but which qualities are not in the things them- 
 selves, otherwise than as any effect depends on its cause ;. 
 taste and smell is no more really in them, than sickness or 
 pain is in manner. Take away the sensation of them, let the 
 eyes not see light, nor colours, nor the ears hear sounds, and 
 all colours, tastes, odours, and sounds, as particular ideas, 
 vanish and cease, and are reduced to their causes, i. e., bulk, 
 figure, and motion of parts. Thirdly, the capacity we consi- 
 der in any substance to give or receive such alterations of the 
 primary qualities, as that the substance so altered, should excite 
 in us different ideas from what it did before ; thus, when clay 
 has been operated upon by fire, it produces in us the idea of 
 hardness, instead of softness : these are called Powers / the 
 immediate operations of which powers are sometimes percep- 
 
21 
 
 tible, sometimes not. The alteration a loadstone has the power 
 to make in the minute particles of iron is apparent; but 
 doubtless there are a thousand changes, which bodies we daily 
 handle have a power to cause in one another, that we never 
 suspect, because they never appear in sensible effects." 
 
 " The greatest part of our ideas that make up our complex 
 idea of gold, are yellowness, great weight, ductility, fusibility, 
 and solubility in aqua regia, &c., all united together in an un- 
 known substratum : all which ideas, but variously combined, 
 are common to many other substances, and not confined to 
 gold, though that particular combination depends on those 
 real and primary qualities of its internal constitution, whereby 
 it has a fitness differently to operate, and be operated upon, 
 by several other substances. The idea which an Englishman 
 signifies by the name swan, is white colour, long neck, red 
 beak, black legs, and whole feet, and all these of a certain 
 size, with a power of swimming in water, and making a pecu- 
 liar kind of noise ; and, perhaps, to a' man who has long ob- 
 served this kind of birds ; some other properties, all which 
 terminate in sensible simple ideas, united in one common sub- 
 ject." 
 
 " Besides these complex ideas of several single substances, 
 as of man, horse, gold, &c. ; the mind hath also Complex Col- 
 lective Ideas of Substances, which I so call, because such ideas 
 are made up of many particular substances considered together, 
 as united into one idea, viz. the idea of such a collection of 
 men as make an army, though consisting of a great number of 
 distinct substances, is as much one idea, as the idea of a man, 
 and such also are a constellation, flock, herd, covey, forest, 
 city, &c," 
 
 Relations. " Besides, the ideas, whether simple or com- 
 plex, that the mind has of things as they are in themselves, 
 there are others it gets from comparing them one with ano- 
 ther. The understanding in the consideration of an object, 
 
is not confined to that precise object, but can bring it, as it 
 were, and set it by another, in order to discover as the words 
 import, its Relation and respect. Thus, when I give to Caius 
 the name husband, I intimate some other person ; and when 
 I give him the name whiter, I intimate some other thing ; in 
 both cases my thought is led to something beyond Caius, and 
 there are two things brought into consideration. There are 
 several distinct kinds of relations, Proportional, Natural, In- 
 stituted, Moral, and others, as Cause and Effect, Identity and 
 Diversity, &c. ; Proportional, whiter, sweeter, equal, more, 
 &c. Natural, father, husband, countryman, cousin, &c. Insti- 
 tuted, king, subject, citizen, burgher, general, soldier, &c. 
 Moral, virtuous, vicious, sinful, commendable, &c. We have 
 determined and adequate ideas of Relations, but not of Sub- 
 stances ; we know precisely, for instance, what the nature of a 
 brother is, though not of a man. Relations are innumerable, 
 and the varieties of them well worthy attentive consideration." 
 
 Particles. " Besides words, which are names of ideas in 
 the mind, there are a great many others that are made use of, 
 to signify the connexion that the mind gives to ideas or pro- 
 positions one with another. The mind, in communicating its 
 thoughts to others, does not only need signs of the ideas it has 
 then before it, but others also, to shew or intimate some par- 
 ticular action of its own at that time, relating to those ideas. 
 This it does several ways, as Is, and Is not, are the general 
 marks of the mind, affirming or denying. But, besides Affir- 
 mation and Negation, without which, there is in words no 
 truth nor falsehood, the mind does, in declaring its senti- 
 ments to others, connect not only the parts of propositions, 
 but whole sentences one to another, with their several rela-? 
 tions and dependencies, in order to make a coherent discourse, 
 such are But, However, Although, &c." 
 
 " The meaning of the names of Simple Ideas can be known 
 only by shewing: of Simple Modes and Mixed Modes, some 
 
23 
 
 by definition only, and some both by shewing and defining : 
 of Substances, both by shewing and defining : and, of Rela- 
 tions, by definition alone. The terms Wisdom and Cousin, 
 for instance, cannot be clearly understood, but by definition, 
 nor Minerals, without both shewing and defining." 
 
 Mr. Locke supposes that we have either a determined and 
 adequate, or an indetermined, inadequate, or erroneous idea of 
 any thing whatsoever. 
 
 " An idea is said to be Determined, when the mind has a 
 full and evident perception of an object by its operating 
 duly on a well disposed organ ; and thus perceives it to be dis- 
 tinct from all others : an Indetermined idea is one, that is 
 indistinct or confused. Thus he, that has an idea made up 
 only of the simple ones of a beast with spots, has but a con- 
 fused idea of a leopard, it not being thereby sufficiently dis- 
 tinguished from a lynx, and several other sorts of beasts that 
 are spotted. So that such an idea, though it hath the pecu- 
 liar name leopard, is not distinguishable from those designed 
 by the names lynx or panther, and may as well come under 
 the name lynx as leopard. How much the custom of defin- 
 ing words by general terms, contributes to make the ideas we 
 would express by them, confused and indetermined, I leave 
 others to consider. Complex ideas must of course be most 
 liable to confusion." 
 
 A complex idea is Erroneous, when one or many of the sim- 
 ple ideas which we include in it, are not to be found in the 
 pattern. The leaving out or not comprehending one or many 
 of the simple ideas, which make up the composition of any 
 idea, will only so much diminish its distinctness, that it may be 
 called an Inadequate idea. When on the contrary, the num- 
 bers and sorts of simple ideas perfectly agree with those in 
 the pattern, such an idea is said to be Adequate to, or equal 
 to the thing implied. 
 
 Thus, we have a determined idea of the colour white, it is 
 
24 
 
 distinct in our minds from that of red. Children must have 
 either an erroneous or inadequate idea of those things beyond 
 their comprehension, whatever words we make use of to com- 
 municate our knowledge to them. We may have determined 
 and adequate ideas of artificial things, but of all natural 
 bodies, our ideas, as Mr. Locke observes, must necessarily 
 be inadequate, and are often very erroneous. We have, it 
 is evident, very inadequate ideas of God, eternity, and immea- 
 surable space. 
 
 Of the Nature of Language, and the Use and the Abuse 
 
 of it. 
 
 " Man, though he has a great variety of thoughts, and such 
 from which others as well as himself, might receive profit and 
 delight, yet they are all within his own breast, invisible, and 
 hidden from others, nor can of themselves appear. But the 
 comfort and advantage of society not being to be had without 
 some communication of them, it was necessary that man should 
 find out some external sensible signs, whereby those invisible 
 ideas, which his thoughts are made up of, might be made 
 known to others. For this purpose, no other means could be 
 devised so fit, as those articulate sounds which with so much 
 ease and variety, he found himself able to make. Thus we 
 may conceive how words, which were by nature so well adapted 
 to this purpose, came to be made use of by men, as the Signs 
 of their ideas ; not, however, by any natural connexion that 
 there is between certain articulate sounds and our ideas, for 
 in this case, there would be but one language amongst men ; 
 but, by a voluntary imposition, whereby such a word is made 
 arbitrarily the mark of such an idea. The use, then, of 
 words is, to make them sensible marks of ideas, as their proper 
 and immediate signification." 
 
 " The use men have of these marks, is either to record 
 
25 
 
 their own thoughts, for the assistance of their own memory, 
 or to bring out their ideas, as it were, and lay them before the 
 view of others. The speaker at the same time supposes his 
 words to be the marks also of the same ideas, in the minds of 
 other men with whom he converses, otherwise he could not 
 be understood; and by constant use, there comes to be such 
 a connexion between certain sounds, and the ideas they stand 
 for, that the hearing the names almost as readily excites certain 
 ideas, as if the objects themselves did actually affect the senses. 
 This is manifestly so in all sensible qualities, and in all sub- 
 stances that frequently and familiarly occur to us." 
 
 " The cause of the greater doubtfulness and uncertainty 
 in the signification of some words than in others is, the dif- 
 ference of the ideas they stand for, and not in any incapa- 
 city there is in one sound, more than in another, to signify 
 any idea, for in that respect they are all alike. 
 
 " Thus words having no inherent signification, the ideas 
 which each stands for must be learned and retained by those 
 who would exchange thoughts, and hold intelligible discourse 
 with others in any language ; but this is most difficult to be 
 done." 
 
 "" First, when the ideas they stand for are very Complex, 
 being made up of a great number of ideas joined together." 
 
 " Secondly, when the ideas they stand for have no certain 
 connexion in nature, and so no settled standard to adjust and 
 rectify them by." 
 
 " Thirdly, when the signification of the word is referred to 
 a standard, which standard is not easy to be known." 
 
 " The names of mixed modes are most liable to doubtfulness 
 for the two first of these reasons, the names of substances 
 chiefly for the latter." 
 
 "When a word stands for a very compound idea, it is not 
 easy for men to form and retain the idea of it correctly in 
 their minds: hence it comes to pass, that moral words have 
 
26 
 
 seldom in two different men the same precise signification; 
 and, indeed, the same person's idea often differs from his own, 
 that he had yesterday. What the words murder or sacrilege 
 stand for, can never be known from things themselves, since 
 there are many parts of those complex ideas, which are not 
 visible in the action itself, and which have been attached to 
 them by men framing those words. When children learn to 
 speak, people commonly shew them both qualities and sub- 
 stances, and then repeat the name, as white, yellow, cat, dog; 
 but moral words are commonly learned before they can be 
 understood, and there not being many who afterwards search 
 for the true meaning of them, their signification often remains 
 very undetermined in their minds. Where shall one find 
 either a controversial debate or familiar discourse, concerning 
 honour, faith, grace, religion, church, &c. wherein it is not 
 easy to observe the different notions men have of those ideas. 
 And hence we see, that in the interpretation of laws, whether 
 divine or human, comments beget comments, and explications 
 make new matter for explications, and of limiting, distin- 
 guishing, and varying the signification of these moral words, 
 there is no end." 
 
 " These ideas of men's making, are by men still having the 
 same power, multiplied in infinitum? 
 
 " The names of substances are of a doubtful signification 
 for a contrary reason, viz. -because the ideas they stand for 
 are supposed conformable to the reality of things, and to have 
 their archetypes in nature. In our ideas of substances we 
 have not the liberty as in mixed modes, to frame what combi- 
 nations we think fit to be the characteristical notes, to rank 
 and denominate things by. In these we must follow nature, 
 suit our complex ideas to real existences, and regulate the 
 signification of their names by the things themselves, if we 
 would make their names the signs of them. But these arche- 
 types cannot be so well known, as to leave their names without 
 
27 
 
 doubtful and uncertain significations, because the simple ideas* 
 which co-exist and are united in the same subject, being often 
 very numerous, and having all an equal right to go into the 
 complex specific idea, which the specific name is to stand 
 for, men, though they propose to themselves the very same 
 subject to consider, yet frame altogether very different ideas 
 about it." 
 
 "In philosophical inquiries and debates, where general truths 
 are to be established, and consequences drawn from positions 
 laid down, there the precise signification of the names of sub- 
 stances will be found, not only not to be well established, but 
 also very difficult to be so ; for example :" 
 
 " I was once in a meeting of very learned and ingenious 
 physicians, where by chance there arose a question, Whether 
 any Liquor passed through the filaments of the nerves. The 
 debate having been managed a. good while, by variety of argu- 
 ments on both sides, I (who had been used to suspect that the 
 greater part of disputes were more about the signification of 
 words, than a real difference in the conception of things) 
 desired, that before they went any farther in this dispute, 
 they would first examine and establish amongst them, what 
 the word Liquor signified. They were at first a little sur- 
 prised at the proposal ; and had they been persons less inge- 
 nious, they might perhaps have considered it very frivolous or 
 extravagant, since there was no one there, who did not believe 
 himself to understand very perfectly what the word liquor 
 stood for; which I think too, none of the most perplexed 
 names of substances. However, they were pleased to comply 
 with my motion, and upon examination found, that the signi- 
 fication of that word was not so settled and certain as they 
 had all imagined ; but that each of them used it as a sign of a 
 somewhat different conception. This made them perceive^ 
 that the main of their dispute was about the signification of 
 that term; and that they differed very little in their opinions, 
 
28 
 
 concerning some fluid and subtile matter passing through the 
 conduits of the nerves ; though it was not so easy to agree 
 whether it was to be called Liquor or no, a thing which 
 when considered, they thought it not worth the contending 
 about." 
 
 " From what has been before said, it is easy to observe that 
 the names of Simple Ideas are, of all others, the least liable to 
 be mistaken, because the ideas they stand for being each but 
 one single perception, are much easier got and more clearly 
 retained. By the same rule, the names of Simple Modes are 
 next to those of simple ideas, the least liable to doubt and un- 
 certainty, especially those of figure and number, of which men 
 have so clear and distinct ideas. Who that had a mind to 
 understand them ever mistook the ordinary meaning of seven 
 and a triangle ? And, in general, the least compounded of 
 our ideas of every kind have the least dubious names." 
 
 " Besides the imperfections natural to language, and the ob- 
 scurity and confusion, so difficult to be avoided in the use of 
 words, there are several wilful faults and neglects, which men 
 are guilty of in this way of communication, whereby they ren- 
 der these signs still less clear and distinct in their signification." 
 " Of this kind the most palpable abuse is, the using of words 
 without clear and distinct ideas, or, which is worse, signs 
 without any thing signified." 
 
 " One may observe in all languages certain words, which if 
 they be examined, will be found in their first original, and 
 their appropriated use, not to stand for any clear and distinct 
 ideas. These, for the most part, the several sects of philo- 
 sophy have introduced. For their authors or promoters, 
 Cither affecting something singular and out of the way of 
 common apprehensions, or to support some strange opinions, 
 or to cover some weakness of their hypothesis, seldom fail to 
 coin new words, such, as when they come to be examined, 
 may justly be called insignificant terms, that having had no 
 
29 
 
 determinate collection of ideas annexed to them when they 
 were first invented, or, at least, having such as upon strict 
 examination, will "be found inconsistent, it is no wonder if, 
 afterwards, they prove mere empty sounds. But the multitude 
 think it enough to have them often in their mouths, as the 
 distinguishing characters of their church or school, without, 
 much troubling their heads to examine what are the precise 
 ideas they stand for. Of this it is unnecessary to mention 
 instances; every man's reading and conversation will suffi- 
 ciently furnish him ; or if he want to be better stored, the 
 great mint-masters of this kind of terms, I mean the school- 
 men and metaphysicians, (under which, I think, the disputing 
 natural and moral philosophers of these latter ages may be 
 comprehended) have wherewithal abundantly to content him." 
 
 " Others there are, who extend this abuse yet farther, who 
 not only take little care to reject words, that in their primary 
 notation, have scarce any clear and distinct ideas, to which 
 they are annexed, but by an unpardonable negligence, impro- 
 perly use words, which the propriety of long usage has affixed 
 to very important ideas. Wisdom, glory, grace, &c. are words 
 familiar to every man's mouth, yet if a great many of those 
 who use them should be asked to explain their meaning, they 
 would be at a loss what to answer," 
 
 " In the common occurrences of life, men find it easy to make 
 themselves understood ; but such insignificancy in their words, 
 when they come to reason concerning either their tenets or 
 general interests, manifestly fills their discourse with abun- 
 dance of unintelligible noise and jargon, especially in moral 
 matters. Men take the words they find current amongst their 
 neighbours, and that they may not seem ignorant what they 
 stand for, use them confidently without much troubling their 
 heads about a certain and fixed meaning ; whereby, besides 
 the ease of it, they obtain this advantage, that, as in such dis- 
 courses, they seldom are in the right, so they are as seldom to 
 
ao 
 
 be convinced that they are wrong ; it being as vain to endea- 
 vour to draw those men out of their mistakes, who have no 
 determined notions, as to dispossess a vagrant who has no 
 settled abode, of his habitation. This I guess to be the case, 
 and every one may ascertain in himself and others, whether I 
 am mistaken." 
 
 " A farther abuse of words is the taking them for things* 
 This in some degree concerns all names in general, but parti- 
 cularly affects those of substances. To this abuse, those men 
 are most liable, who most confine their thoughts to any one 
 system, and give themselves up to a firm belief of the perfec- 
 tion of any received hypothesis, whereby they come to be 
 persuaded, that the terms of that sect exactly correspond with 
 the real existence of things. Who is there that has been 
 bred up in the Peripatetic philosophy, who does not think the 
 ten names, under which are ranked the ten predicaments, to 
 be perfectly conformable to nature ? Who is there of that 
 school, that is not persuaded, that substantial forms, vegeta- 
 tive souls, abhorrence of a vacuum, intentional species, &c. 
 are something real ? The Platonists have their soul of the 
 world, and the Epicureans the endeavour towards motion in 
 atoms when at rest. But there is scarce any sect in philoso- 
 phy that has not a distinct set of terms, which others compre- 
 hend not ; yet this gibberish, which in the weakness of human 
 understanding, serves so well to palliate men's ignorance, and 
 cover their errors, comes by familiar use amongst those of the 
 same tribe, to appear of all others, the terms the most signifi- 
 cant. Thus the doctrine of aerial and aBthereal vehicles may, 
 possibly, one of these days, make impressions on men's minds, 
 as much as peripatetic forms and intentional species have here- 
 tofore done." 
 
 " Another great abuse of words is, inconstancy in the use of 
 them. It is hard to find a discourse written of any subject, 
 especially of controversy, wherein one shall not with a little 
 
31 
 
 attention observe, that some words (and those commonly the 
 most material in the discourse, and upon which the argument 
 turns) used sometimes for one collection of ideas, and some- 
 times for another, which is a perfect abuse of language. 
 Words being intended for signs of ideas, to make them known 
 to others, not by any natural signification, but by a voluntary 
 imposition; it is plain they only serve to cheat and abuse, 
 when they are made to stand sometimes for one thing, and 
 sometimes for another ; therefore, the wilfully doing so, must 
 be imputed either to great folly or great dishonesty. One 
 who should speak thus in the affairs and business of the 
 world, and call eight sometimes seven, and sometimes nine, as 
 best served his purpose, would presently have clapped upon 
 him one of two names, men are commonly disgusted with." 
 
 " If men will not be at the pains to declare the meaning of 
 their words, yet this is the least to be expected, that in all 
 discourses, wherein one man pretends to instruct or convince 
 another, he should use the same word constantly in the same 
 sense : if this were done (which no one can refuse without 
 great disingenuity) many of the books extant might be spared, 
 many of the controversies would be at an end: several of 
 those bulky volumes swoln with ambiguous words would 
 shrink into a very narrow compass, and many philosophical 
 works (to mention no other) might be contained in a nut- 
 shell." 
 
 " But, after all, the provision of words is so scanty in respect 
 of the infinite variety of thoughts, that men wanting terms to 
 suit their precise notions, will, notwithstanding their utmost 
 caution, be forced often to use the same word in somewhat 
 different senses. And, though in the continuation of a dis- 
 course, or the pursuit of an argument, there can be hardly 
 room to digress into a particular definition as often as a man 
 varies the signification of any term ; yet, the import of the 
 discourse will, for the most part, if there be no designed fal- 
 
32 
 
 lacy, sufficiently lead candid and intelligent readers into the 
 true meaning of it ; but where there is no sufficient clearness 
 to guide the reader, there it concerns the writer to explain 
 his meaning, and shew in what sense he then uses such or 
 such a term. If words were taken for what they are, only the 
 signs of our ideas, and not for things themselves ; and, if men 
 would tell what ideas they make their words stand for, there 
 could not be half that wrangling in the support or search of 
 truth that there is." 
 
 " Language being as I said before, the great bond which 
 holds society together, and the common conduit, whereby the 
 improvements of knowledge are conveyed from one man, and 
 from one generation to another, he who makes an ill use of it, 
 though he does not corrupt the fountains of knowledge which 
 are in things themselves, yet he may break or stop the pipes, 
 whereby it is distributed to the public advantage." 
 
 " Words, by long and familiar use, come as before observed, 
 to excite in men certain ideas, so constantly and so readily, 
 that we are apt to suppose a natural connexion between them. 
 But, that they signify only men's peculiar ideas by a per- 
 fectly arbitrary imposition, is evident by this, that they often 
 fail to excite in others (even that use the same language) the 
 same ideas we take them to be signs of; and every man has 
 so inviolable a liberty to make words stand for what ideas he 
 pleases, that no one hath the power to oblige others to have the 
 same ideas in their minds as he has, when they use the same 
 words he does. And, therefore, the great Augustus himself, in 
 possession of that power, which ruled so great a portion of 
 the old world, acknowledged he could not make a new Latin 
 word ; which was as much as to say, that he could not arbitra- 
 rily appoint what idea any sound should be a sign of, in the 
 mouths and common language of his subjects/' 
 
 " The same liberty Adam had, to make any complex ideas 
 of Mixed Modes by no other patterns than his own thoughts, 
 
33 
 
 all men have ever since had. The necessity he was under (if 
 he would not wilfully impose upon himself) of conforming his 
 ideas of Substances to things without him, they being arche- 
 types made by nature, the same have all men from his time. 
 The same liberty also, that Adam had of affixing any new 
 name to any idea, the same has any one still, especially the be- 
 ginners of languages, if we can imagine any such ; but, with 
 this difference, that in places, where men in society have al- 
 ready established a language amongst them, the significations 
 of words are very warily and sparingly to be altered ; because, 
 men being furnished already with names for their ideas, and 
 common use having appropriated known names to certain 
 ideas, an affected misapplication of them cannot but be very 
 ridiculous. He that hath new notions wiD, perhaps, venture 
 sometimes on the coming of new names to express them ; but 
 men think it a boldness, and it is uncertain whether common 
 use will ever make them pass for current. But in communi- 
 cation with others it is necessary, that we conform the ideas 
 we make the vulgar words of any language stand for, to their 
 known proper significations, or else specify what new significa- 
 tions we apply them to." 
 
 " He that hath names without ideas, wants meaning in his 
 words, and speaks only empty sounds. He that hath com- 
 plex ideas without names to them, wants dispatch in his ex- 
 pressions, and is necessitated to use periphrases. He that 
 uses words loosely and unsteadily, will either be not minded, 
 or not understood. He that applies names to ideas differ- 
 ent from their common use, wants propriety in his language, 
 and speaks gibberish. And he that hath ideas of substances 
 disagreeing with the real existence of things, so far wants the 
 materials of true knowledge in his understanding, and hath 
 instead thereof chimeras." 
 
 " The fallacies men put upon themselves, as well as upon 
 others, and the mistakes common in men's notions and dis- 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 putes, will be found to originate in words ; and their uncertain 
 or mistaken significations, we shall have reason to think no 
 small obstacle in the way of knowledge : and I am apt to imagine, 
 that were the imperfections of language, which is the instrument 
 of knowledge, more thoroughly weighed, a great many of the 
 controversies, which make such a noise in the world, would of 
 themselves cease ; and the way to knowledge, and perhaps 
 peace too, lie a great deal more open than it does." 
 
 Of General or Abstract Terms. 
 
 " All things that exist being particulars, it may perhaps, be 
 thought reasonable that words, which ought to be conformed 
 to things, should be so too, I mean in their signification, but 
 yet we find quite the contrary. The far greatest part in all- 
 languages are General Terms, which, however, has not been 
 the effect of neglect or chance, but of reason and necessity." 
 
 It is impossible that every particular thing should have a 
 distinct peculiar name, for it is beyond the power of the hu- 
 man capacity to frame and retain distinct ideas of all the par- 
 ticular things we meet with. Every bird and beast men saw, 
 and tree and plant that affected their senses, could not find 
 place in the most capacious understanding. If it be looked 
 on as an instance of a prodigious memory, that some generals 
 have been able to call every soldier in their army by his pro- 
 per name, we may easily find a reason why men should never 
 have attempted to give names to each sheep in their flocks, or 
 crow that flies over their head, much less to call every leaf of 
 plants or grains of sand that come in their way by a peculiar 
 name. But, if it were possible, it would be useless; men 
 therefore content themselves commonly with giving proper 
 names to those things only, which they have most need of dis- 
 tinguishing, as persons, countries, cities, churches, rivers, 
 mountains, &c., and to some houses, dogs, and horses, but, 
 to very few, if any other things." 
 
35 
 
 " It will not, perhaps, be amiss, to trace our notions and 
 names from their beginning, and observe by what degrees we 
 proceed, and by what steps we enlarge our ideas from our 
 first infancy. There is nothing more evident, than that the 
 ideas of the persons children converse with (to instance in 
 them alone) are like the persons themselves only particulars. 
 The ideas of the nurse and the mother, are well framed in 
 their minds, and, like pictures of them there, represent only 
 those individuals. The names they first gave to them are 
 confined to these individuals, and the names of nurse and 
 mama the child uses, determine themselves to those persons* 
 Afterwards, when time and a larger acquaintance have made 
 them observe, that there are a great many things in the world, 
 that in some common agreements of shape, and several other 
 qualities, resemble their father and mother, and those persons 
 they have been accustomed to, they frame an idea which they 
 find those many particulars do partake in, and to that they 
 give with others the name Man for example ; and thus they 
 come to have a general or abstract Name, wherein they make 
 nothing new, but only leave out of the complex idea they had 
 of Peter and James, Mary and Jane, that which is peculiar 
 to each, and retain only what is common to them all." 
 
 " By the same way that they come by the general name 
 and idea of man, they easily advance to yet more general 
 names and notions, for leaving out the shape and some other 
 properties, signified by the name Man, and retaining only the 
 ideas of a body with life, sense, and spontaneous motion, they 
 comprehend other things under the name Animal ; and leav- 
 ing out of the idea animal, sense, and spontaneous motion; 
 the remaining complex idea made up of the remaining simple 
 ones of body, life, and nourishment, comes under the still 
 more comprehensive or abstract term Vivens, which includes 
 also all vegetables. And not to dwell longer upon this parti- 
 
36 
 
 cular, so evident in itself, it is by the same way the mind pro- 
 ceeds to Body, Substance, and at last, to Being, Thing, and 
 such universal terms, which stand for any of our ideas what- 
 soever : to conclude, this whole mystery of Genera and Species, 
 which make such a noise in the schools, but are with justice 
 so little regarded out of them, are nothing more than Abstract 
 Ideas, more or less comprehensive with Names annexed to 
 them." 
 
 " When, therefore, we quit Particulars, the Generals we 
 use, are entirely of our own creation; their general nature 
 being nothing but the capacity they are put into by the un- 
 derstanding, of signifying or representing many particulars. 
 For the signification they have is nothing but a relation, 
 which, by the mind of man, is added to them." 
 
 " The next thing therefore, to be considered is, what kind 
 of signification it is that general words have. It is evident 
 they do not signify barely one particular thing, for then they 
 would not be general terms, but proper names : church, for 
 instance, is a general term, but, St. Peters, at Rome, a proper 
 name : so on the other hand it is as evident, they do not sig- 
 nify a plurality, for man and men would then signify the same, 
 and the distinction of numbers (as grammarians call them) 
 prove superfluous and useless; whereas, man and men are 
 both general terms, though the one is singular, the other 
 plural. That then, which general words signify, are the 
 Sorts of things, and each General Term being a sign of an 
 Abstract Idea in the mind, it is thus things existing, as they are 
 found to agree, come to be ranked under one name ; for ex- 
 ample, to be a man, or of the species man, and to have a 
 right to the name man, is the same thing. All nouns that are 
 not proper names are general terms." Locke. 
 
 " There is nothing in the world Universal but Names ; for 
 the things named are every one of them individual and singu- 
 lar. One universal name is imposed on many things, for their 
 
37 
 
 similarity in some quality, or other accident ; and whereas, a 
 Proper name bringeth to mind one thing only, Universals 
 reach any one of those many." Hobbes. 
 
 A highly eminent philologist, and whose profound learning 
 we cannot pretend ever to fathom, in making some few com- 
 ments upon the Essay concerning Human Understanding, 
 says, " I only desire you to read the Essay over again with 
 attention, and see whether all that its immortal author has 
 justly concluded will not hold equally true and clear, if you 
 substitute the composition, &c. of Terms, wherever he has 
 supposed a composition, &c. of Ideas." But after a second, 
 and even third perusal, we still retain the opinion that Mr. 
 Locke is correct, and that the proposed alteration would .not 
 upon trial be found to answer. According to Mr. Locke, 
 " Ideas are whatsoever may be the object of the understanding 
 when a man thinks," whereas, terms, he says, are only the 
 Symbols of ideas ; and whether they are to be considered as 
 particular or general, must be determined entirely by the 
 nature of the ideas to which they are annexed. " Terms 
 become general by being made signs of general ideas, and 
 Ideas become general, by separating from them the circum- 
 stances of time, place, and any other particular existence," as 
 man, theatre, &c. The mind first makes a collection of 
 ideas; secondly, it unites them into one; and thirdly, gives 
 stability to the union by a name, as a tragedy, phoanix, bank- 
 rupt, &c. But 
 
 " What's in a name? that which we call a Rose, 
 By any other word would smell as sweet." 
 
 The term universe is the same, whether used by the learned or 
 the ignorant; the idea attached to it too, so for as it is supposed 
 to include all beings, is the same ; yet how greatly more sublime, 
 
38 
 
 though infinitely short of the original, will the composition of 
 the picture be to the eye of knowledge than to that of igno- 
 rance. Besides the mind can conceive, and by circumlocution 
 enable another to conceive, the like arbitrarily composed 
 ideas, even before terms are affixed to them ; for instance, in- 
 ventions ere they have been carried into execution, and the 
 numberless chimeras entertained of beauty or deformity, 
 whence, indeed, the expression " Ideal beauty." The hands 
 cannot execute what the eye hath not seen, nor the mind 
 conceived. Imagination it is that " bodies forth the forms of 
 things unknown," and the artist's, like the poet's hand, 
 
 " Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
 A local habitation and a name." 
 
 Simple terms have been invented, and afterwards as occasion 
 required, variously compounded. Simple terms are the un-r 
 compounded names of any ideas whatsoever, as John, man, 
 fleet. Compound terms, Johnson defines to be, two or more 
 terms united into one. The apparent intention of compound- 
 ing them is, not only in general to spare the invention of new 
 terms, but sometimes also to mark particularly either some 
 sort of relation, with which certain things are considered, or 
 some preeminent power or quality, or remarkable deficiency of 
 either, discernible in them ; e. g. the simple term, umbrella, a 
 shade, does not specify from what it is to shade one, but the 
 compound terms, parasol and parapluie, are 110 sooner pro- 
 nounced, than the mind considers those instruments with rela- 
 tion to the things parried, i. e. with the sun and rain. Such, 
 too, are thermometer, contemporary, coal-heaver, turnspit. 
 By the term ventriloquist, we distinguish those persons re- 
 markable for speaking, as it were, from the belly; clear- 
 sighted, able-bodied, shallow-brain, &c. are of the like descrip- 
 tion. A very superficiaj examination of the most copious 
 languages would serve to convince us, that the composition of 
 terms is extremely limited, while that of ideas we find to be 
 
39 
 
 as boundless as the imagination of man : e. g. in the term 
 religion there is little composition, yet it represents a great 
 composition of ideas, of a Creator, of a superior, of a bene- 
 factor, of one created, of an inferior, of gratitude, of adoration, 
 and perhaps of many others. 
 
 Great numbers of the general Ideas of one nation are com- 
 mon to all others, and must necessarily be so, man and things 
 being fundamentally the same every where ; whereas, the Terms 
 affixed to those ideas, often very widely differ, as the vast 
 variety of languages testify, and some of which bear no man- 
 ner of resemblance to each other, I. e. neither in the compo- 
 sition nor in the sounds of words. 
 
 Mr. Locke's Analysis of our Ideas and Language has, we 
 apprehend, something peculiar in it. He confined his atten- 
 tion solely to the examination of the nature of our ideas, and 
 of the manner in which the mind severally entertains and mo- 
 difies them ; and also how far, and which kind of words are 
 the most liable to be differently interpreted and abused; it 
 lay out of his way, therefore, to meddle with the bueinosa 
 either of the grammarian or lexicographer. Young people 
 might, perhaps, derive profitable amusement from occasionally 
 examining the force of words according to his directions. 
 This would lead them to consider in what manner language is 
 fitted to represent our ideas, what are the sorts of ideas affixed 
 to the words they would define, and whether they have a 
 determined, adequate, and correct, or a confused and inade- 
 quate notion of the thing nominated. Should they be induced, 
 for a time, frequently to engage in such exercises, it is to be 
 presumed, they could not fail shortly to acquire a habit of 
 both tjiinking and speaking correctly. 
 
40 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Of Man. Power. Action. Corporeal Powers. Native Character. Mental 
 Powers. Excitements. Principal Directing Dispositions. Primary Dispositions. 
 Indescribable Natural Peculiarities. Circumstances. Original, Acquired, and 
 General Character. Children of the same family often differ as widely from one 
 another as from the rest of the species. 
 
 Of Man. 
 
 MAN doth consist of two parts, one Material and external, 
 whereby each individual becomes a sensible part of nature, 
 and hath an eminent station amongst visible creatures, this 
 we term Body, Person : the other the interior, and Invisible 
 principle of operations, properly called the Soul, Spirit, Mind. 
 There is an evident relation between our bodies and souls, 
 the members and organs of our bodies being wonderfully 
 adapted to serve the operations of our souls, and we (as inward 
 experience, or conscience of what we do, may teach us) deter- 
 mine ourselves commonly to action, and move the corporeal 
 instruments, subject to our will and command, not by force of 
 any precedent bodily impression or impulse, but either ac- 
 cording to mere pleasure, or in virtue of somewhat spiritual, 
 and abstracted from matter, acting upon us, not by a physical 
 energy, but by moral representation, in a manner more easily 
 conceived than expressed. This invisible power renders man 
 the author of actions so worthy, and works so wonderful ; 
 capable of wisdom and virtue; of knowledge so vast, and 
 of desires so lofty ; apt to contemplate truth and affect good ; 
 able to recollect things past, and to see things future; to 
 search so deep into the causes of things, and disclose so many 
 mysteries of nature ; to invent so many arts and sciences, to 
 
41 
 
 contrive such projects of polity; and atchieve such feats of 
 prowess : briefly, it capacitates him, to perform all those ad- 
 mirable efforts of human wit and industry, which we daily see 
 and hear of." Barrow. 
 
 Experience assures us that the Mind and Body have con- 
 tinually a reciprocal influence upon each other ; that the body 
 is so organized, as to be affected in various ways, by external 
 objects, and by the thoughts of the mind ; and the mind, by 
 the impressions external objects make upon the body, and 
 also by its own voluntary, or involuntary contemplations ; and 
 moreover, that the changes which take place in the body, 
 commonly effect some alteration, more or less durable, in the 
 mind ; as the alterations in the mind do in the body, though 
 not often so certainly perhaps, nor to the same degree. 
 
 Judging from the appearance of idiots, there seems to be 
 strong evidence of the understanding being more or less con- 
 fined and cramped, when lodged in an ill-shaped tenement. 
 But as many of the derangements of the body frequently pro- 
 duce not only slow, but also very rapid and various sorts of 
 changes, both transient and permanent in the mind, we suspect 
 that other parts of it, besides the skull, and which are far more 
 liable to alteration, also greatly determine the constitution of 
 the mental faculties. And do we not find all infants more or 
 less irritable, and more or less sprightly, according to their 
 present state of ease and health? We conclude, therefore, 
 that the force of the digestion, and the quality of the several 
 humours, &c. very strongly influence the native as well as the 
 acquired character of all men. 
 
 The Understanding we denominate the Mental Faculties, 
 which faculties we find to have the power (more or less) of 
 
42 
 
 exciting, modifying, calming, and suppressing the emotions 
 consequent upon either thought or sensation, or both. The 
 various emotions that commonly determine the man to action, 
 whether caused by sense or thought, we call Dispositions. The 
 ordinary tenor of his mind, the Temper, and the general sensi- 
 bility that animates him, and gives a peculiar character both 
 to his temper and dispositions, the Temperament. 
 
 The effects both external objects and inward thoughts are 
 calculated universally to produce upon us, we distinguish by 
 the word Excitements, such as are pleasure and pain, hope 
 and fear, conscience, &c. 
 
 Some of our dispositions appear to be the origin, directly or 
 indirectly, of the greatest part of our actions, and thus to give 
 a certain character to our general conduct ; ambition, for in- 
 stance, gives one direction to our conduct, the desire of plea- 
 sure another, &c. we therefore denominate all such, Principal 
 Directing Dispositions. 
 
 Those dispositions we first betray, we name Primary ; chil- 
 dren for example, very early appear addicted to anger, resent- 
 ment, obstinacy, &c. 
 
 Power. 
 
 The mind being every day informed by the senses, of the 
 alterations which take place in the physical world, in which 
 some things cease to be, and others begin to exist : Reflecting 
 also on what passes within itself, and observing a frequent 
 change of opinions, occasioned sometimes by the impressions 
 received from outward objects, and sometimes by its own ope- 
 rations about them, it concludes from the changes it has so 
 often seen, that the like changes will in future be made in 
 similar things, by the like agents, and the like ways ; thus the 
 mind being led to consider the possibility of making that 
 change, comes by the idea we call Power. 
 
43 
 
 Action. 
 
 Man has two sorts of Action, viz. Thinking and Motion: think- 
 ing is the exercise of his mental, and motion that of his corporeal 
 powers. " We easily distinguish two sorts of objects ; the first 
 is of those we perceive to have a spontaneity, or self-moving 
 power, and several properties and affections similar to those 
 of our own minds, such as reasoning, judging, willing, loving, 
 hating, &c. the second is of those in which no such affections 
 appear, and which are so far of a passive nature, that they 
 never move of themselves, neither do they when in motion 
 ever stop, without some external influence. If one of these 
 moves out of its place, without the appearance of a mover, we 
 immediately conclude it to be owing to some invisible agent, so 
 much are we persuaded of its own inertia. If we lay one of 
 them up in any place, we expect to find it there at any distance 
 of time, provided no other powers have had access to it. This 
 passive nature or inertia is what chiefly distinguishes the se- 
 cond class, and is called Matter, as the former is Spirit." 
 Maclauriris Newton, Book ii. chap. 1 . 
 
 " Thus matter seems to be wholly destitute of Active power, 
 as its author, God, truly is above all Passive power. The 
 intermediate spirits alone probably are endowed with both ac- 
 tive and passive power." Matter operates only by necessity, 
 whereas spirits operate more or less freely, and are operated 
 upon; consequently, man's voluntary actions must all of them 
 indubitably originate in the mind. 
 
 Corporeal Powers, 
 general Frame, and Constitution of the Body. 
 
 As beauty still has blemish, and the mind 
 
 The most accomplished, its imperfect side, 
 
 Few bodies are there of that happy mould 
 
 But some one part is weaker than the rest, 
 
 The legs, perhaps, or arms refuse their load, 
 
 Or the chest labours. Armstrong's Art (/Health. 
 
44 
 
 The Shape of the Skull, 
 Somewhat different in each individual. 
 
 The Digestion) 
 More or less rapid, and stronger or weaker. 
 
 The Circulation 
 
 Of the blood, and the several humours of the body, more or 
 less rapid, stronger or weaker, and more or less irritating. 
 
 The Appetites, 
 Severally more or less keen or vehement. 
 
 The Senses, 
 Severally more or less acute. 
 
 Other Parts of the Body, 
 The limbs, &c. severally more or less vigorous. 
 
 The general Constitution, 
 Stronger or weaker. 
 
 Native Character. 
 
 " Some there are in whom, as one expresses it, one would 
 think, nature had placed every thing the wrong way de- 
 praved in their opinions, unintelligible in their reasonings, ir- 
 regular in their actions, and vicious in every disposition. 
 Whilst in some others, we see almost every thing amiable and 
 excellent, that can adorn and exalt the human mind under the 
 disadvantages of mortality. So that I am very ready to be- 
 lieve, that there is not a greater difference between an angel 
 and some of the best and wisest of men, than between a devil 
 and some of the worst and wickedest." Mason on Self -Know- 
 ledge. 
 
45 
 
 The Temperament, 
 
 Sanguine or Phlegmatic, and of both sorts there are the Cheer- 
 ful and Melancholy, of several characters and degrees. 
 
 The Temper, 
 Easy or Difficult, and of several characters and degrees. 
 
 Dispositions, 
 
 Severally more or less kindly, or perverse, and there are num- 
 berless combinations, characters, and degrees of them. 
 
 Mental Powers^ 
 
 " The difference is exceeding great between some men and 
 some other animals ; but, if we compare the understanding 
 and abilities of some men and some brutes, we shall find so 
 little, that it will be difficult to say that that of the man is 
 either clearer or more capacious." Locke. 
 
 Perception, Judgment, 
 
 Discerning, Compounding, 
 
 Retention, Abstracting, 
 
 Comparing, Reasoning, 
 
 Severally stronger or weaker, and betraying in many indivi- 
 duals more or less 
 
 Genius, Mimickry, 
 
 Imagination, Cleverness, 
 
 Wit, Dexterity, and 
 
 Humour, Good or bad Taste. 
 
 And of all these there are numberless combinations, characters, 
 and degrees. 
 
 Excitements. 
 Various excitements are implanted in all human beings 
 
46 
 
 (idiots excepted), in order to urge them to the active exercise 
 of their several faculties. 
 
 Pleasure and Pain, 
 
 Felt more or less keenly according to the character of the 
 individual, thing desired, and present state of his mind and 
 body. From these originate all our desires, both good and 
 bad. 
 
 Desire or Volition. 
 
 Felt more or less keenly according to character, thing de- 
 sired, and to circumstances. From it arise all our actions, 
 both good and bad. 
 
 Love and Hatred. 
 
 More or less vehement towards the several objects desired 
 or deprecated, according to character and circumstances. 
 From these arises the renewal of all our desires, either to ob- 
 tain or to avoid any thing. 
 
 Hope and Fear, 
 
 Stronger or weaker according to character and circum- 
 stances. From these arise all our expectations of both good 
 
 and evil. 
 
 Self-Love. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and more or less exclusive. Thence 
 originates our propensity to do whatsoever is agreeable to us, 
 or what we believe to be good for us, in some way or other. 
 
 Social Love. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. From it 
 arises our propensity to love our fellow-creatures, or to regard 
 any animal, and consequently to desire their society and re- 
 ciprocal affection, and more or less to confer benefits upon 
 them. 
 
Sympathy. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. Thence 
 originates our propensity to pity and succour the distressed, 
 and to rejoice with the fortunate; also to be affected by the 
 physical uneasinesses we see others suffer, as from surgical 
 operations, yawning, &c. It likewise makes known to us in 
 what manner we can most annoy and torment others. 
 
 Conscience. 
 
 More or less sensitive generally, and likewise upon some 
 particular subjects, according to the situation and character of 
 the individual. From it arises our propensity to act, rather as 
 our sense of duty dictates, than as our inclinations prompt us. 
 
 Desire of Reward and Fear of Punishment. 
 Respectively stronger or weaker according to the character 
 of the individual. From these originates our propensity to 
 follow the suggestions of our conscience ; also to be obedient 
 to both public and private authority. They dispose us like- 
 wise to do evil, in order to obtain the one and to avoid the 
 other. 
 
 Desire of Praise and Fear of Blame. 
 
 Respectively stronger or weaker, according to character and 
 circumstances. From these arises our propensity to court the 
 approbation of men, and to deprecate their censure, by the 
 practice either of virtue or of vice, according to the associates 
 we are most influenced by. 
 
 PRINCIPAL DIRECTING DISPOSITIONS. 
 These are the dispositions every man has, to urge him to 
 seek more or less steadily the very various things that are 
 good, useful, and agreeable to him. 
 
48 
 
 Desire of Happiness both in our Present and Future State of 
 
 Existence, or to obtain Good and to avoid Evil. 
 Respectively stronger or weaker according to the character 
 of the individual. It directs him upon all occasions to do 
 what his reason and conscience dictate to him, whether agree- 
 able to his present inclinations or not. 
 
 Desire of Ease, or Relief from Present Pain. 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him to free himself, as soon as practicable, from any an- 
 noyance likely to injure either his mind or body ; it often in- 
 duces him also to rid himself of pain, though his impatience is 
 likely eventually to be more or less disadvantageous to him. 
 
 Desire of Superiority, or Ambition. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him to aim at excelling in any pursuit whatsoever, whether 
 good or bad. 
 
 Desire of Pleasure. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him to enjoy the various bounties provided for him by indul- 
 gent nature ; it tempts him also to use them to a more or less 
 criminal excess. 
 
 Desire of Independence or of Liberty. 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him to rely principally upon his own exertions, both for sub- 
 sistence and amusement ; it renders him also apt to resist the 
 most wholesome authority. 
 
 Desire of Power. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him to become more or less, and in a variety of ways, the be- 
 nefactor or the scourge of individuals, families, or nations. 
 
49 
 
 Desire of Wealth. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him to accumulate riches either by honest or dishonest means, 
 and for good or bad purposes, or for hoarding. 
 
 Consciousness or Belief of Superiority or Pride. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him properly to support the dignity of his nature, character, 
 rank, and situation, in life : it often leads him also to forget 
 what is justly due to the self-love and pretensions of others. 
 
 Desire of Appearing to Advantage, or Vanity. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him to display his acquirements or possessions in a manner 
 more or less agreeable and advantageous to, or more or less 
 offensive and injurious to, the fortunes or morals of others. 
 
 Desire of Change. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It is in 
 many cases irresistible ; in others it directs him to vary his 
 actions, so as to give his body and mind each a wholesome de- 
 gree both of exercise and repose ; it leads him also to indulge 
 himself in the most wanton caprices. 
 
 Desire of Novelty. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him to seek new objects in order to extend his acquaintance 
 with nature, and to give new zest to his enjoyments. It also in- 
 clines him to become soon disgusted with sameness, and to 
 be fickle and dissipated. 
 
 Curiosity. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him to search out the secrets of nature, both physical and in- 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 tellectual, and to make himself acquainted with the past and 
 present state of the world ; it disposes him also to be more or 
 less impertinently inquisitive and prying into the affairs of 
 others. 
 
 Desire of Occupation. 
 
 Stronger or weaker, and of different characters. It directs 
 him to employ his thne in different degrees, either well or ill. 
 
 Primary Dispositions. 
 
 These dispositions betray themselves with the dawn of 
 reason, and every child is disposed to be, in various degrees, 
 
 Active or Indolent, 
 
 Patient or Impatient, Docile or Obstinate, 
 
 Contented or Discontented, Reserved or Unreserved, 1 
 
 Courageous or Fearful, Decisive or Indecisive, 
 
 Bold or Timid, Attentive or Inattentive. 
 
 He is disposed to Love and Hate ; also to be 
 Angry, Forgiving, Jealous, 
 
 Resentful, Grateful, Envious. 
 
 Indescribable Natural Peculiarities. 
 
 As every individual has some peculiarities, more or less easily 
 made known to a certain degree by words, so has he others, that 
 we can as clearly discern, without however, being able to describe 
 them. Some, for instance, have a peculiar grace in their car- 
 riage, looks, manners, and motions ; others in their language 
 and sentiments. Some have an extraordinary tenderness, de- 
 licacy, or coarseness of feeling. Some are remarkable for 
 their gentleness, awkwardness, boisterousness. Some have 
 peculiar sorts of expression in the countenance, as of good- 
 ness, malignity, intelligence, acuteness, archness, inquiry, 
 
51 
 
 suspicion, carelessness, vacancy, imbecility, &c. in short, such- 
 and similar peculiarities, though they cause men very appa- 
 rently to differ still more widely from each other, yet want 
 names to distinguish them to any one a stranger to the subject 
 in whom they reside. 
 
 We cannot discover any other excitements than those we 
 have classed as above. We suppose a certain degree of plea- 
 sure or pain generally accompanies almost every action, sensa- 
 tion, and thought, consequently that we either love or hate to 
 repeat them ; that we have a constant succession of desires, 
 and either hope or fear to gratify them ; that we have consci- 
 ence, and a sense of right or wrong in most, if not in all things 
 we do, because we find ourselves very frequently subjected to 
 a greater or less reward or punishment of some kind, either 
 natural or instituted ; and that we commonly incur either praise 
 or blame : all our voluntary actions too must from the very 
 nature of things, have their original in the separate or joint 
 influence of self-love, social love, and sympathy. 
 
 " Self-love and Social are the same," says Mr. Pope; 
 but, we suspect the selfish but too frequently and forcibly 
 prove them very distinct ; however, they most certainly com- 
 monly concur, to urge man to action, and sympathy no less 
 frequently lends its aid. Whenever we unjustly indulge our 
 inclinations at the expense of others, we must be moved, 
 it is evident, by self-love alone, and surely directly war 
 against both social love and sympathy. If we be thirsty and 
 drink, self-love urges us to it: but, if we be hungry, and 
 yet give our meat to another also in want of it, sympathy 
 it is that makes known his cravings to us, social love in- 
 duces us to satisfy them, and self-love is gratified by our be- 
 holding his consequent joy and thankfulness. Self-love will 
 determine us to act thus, provided we feel more pain, in be- 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 holding the sufferings of another, than in bearing the evils 
 attendant upon the degree of hunger, we at the moment 
 suffer. If an animal appear to require our aid, sympathy 
 stirs us to administer it. We here speak of the natural opera- 
 tions of these three excitements on the mind, without taking 
 into account the moral feeling that serves to strengthen their 
 proper influence over us. 
 
 We suppose all men not idiots, to have a certain degree of 
 each of the Principal Directing Dispositions ; and that they 
 would otherwise be less fitted to live in community. 
 
 The Primary Dispositions also seem to be common to the 
 whole race. 
 
 Experience continually proves to us, that as precisely the 
 same sort of actions have their original in very different pro- 
 pensities ; so likewise, does each propensity give rise to very 
 different actions, which makes it the more reasonable to con- 
 clude, notwithstanding the infinite variety of conduct we find 
 amongst men, that each man is urged to the exercise of his 
 several faculties by few, if any other Excitements, Principal 
 Directing, and Primary Dispositions, than those which have 
 so long had distinct names assigned them. If we take a walk 
 for example, we may do so, because we desire health, or plea- 
 sure, or to oblige another, or to exhibit ourselves in public, or 
 to escape some annoyance, &c. Does a man commit murder, 
 he may have been instigated to it by jealousy and revenge, by 
 ambition, by the desire of wealth, or of pleasure, or of ease from 
 pinching want, &c. On the other hand, to what a variety of 
 actions does ambition, vanity, the desire of pleasure, &c. urge 
 not only different men, but the same man. In short, we can- 
 not imagine any voluntary action that may not be traced to 
 one or more of the excitements and propensities classed as 
 above. The having clear notions of them, qualifies us, we ap- 
 prehend, to judge more correctly in the first place, of the best 
 mode of educating man; in the second, of the probable 
 
53 
 
 motives for his conduct, and of the manner in which he is 
 likely to act under the different circumstances of his life ; and 
 thirdly, what laws and customs are calculated the most effec- 
 tually to encourage his virtuous, and to check his vicious pro- 
 pensities ; the first and second deeply concerns parents and 
 teachers; the third, rulers of all denominations and legisla- 
 tors. 
 
 Circumstances. 
 
 Children may be nursed and educated more or less judici- 
 ously with respect either to their mind or body, or both. 
 They may have more or fewer companions, and these may 
 be severally, more or less intelligent, active, amiable, virtuous, 
 and well informed, or the contrary, or differently mixed. 
 They may be educated at home, or at school, public or pri- 
 vate, larger or smaller, well or ill conducted, containing more 
 or fewer virtuous or vicious, active or indolent scholars. They 
 may, at home, see more or fewer visitors, and the society of 
 these visitors may be more or less advantageous to them. They 
 may be left more or less with servants, and the language and 
 conduct of these servants may be more or less exceptionable. 
 They may be treated with more or less indulgence by their 
 parents or guardians, and may associate more or less with 
 them. Their parents may be more or less virtuous, intelligent, 
 active, well informed, and amiable, chearful or melancholy, 
 healthy or sickly, more or less opulent, more or less elevated 
 by birth, or rank, or both, more or less engaged in public or 
 private life, more or less powerful, more or less dissipated, or 
 domestic, &c. &c. 
 
 Young men may form friendships and acquaintances more 
 or less valuable or objectionable. They may go to college, 
 enter any profession, engage in any trade, devote themselves 
 to any branch of literature, or to any art or science, and do 
 
54 
 
 any one of these under peculiar circumstances, or remain idle, 
 &c. &c. They may become husbands, or remain in a state 
 of celibacy, fathers or not, governors, subalterns, &c. live un- 
 der a more or less limited monarchy, or a more or less free 
 democracy, in peaceable or turbulent times, at court, or remote 
 from it, &c. They may be more or less fortunate or unfor- 
 tunate in their several connexions or transactions at any one 
 or more periods of their life, or through the whole of it, and 
 be more or less favoured by chance. 
 
 All these and numberless other circumstances, and all the 
 before enumerated peculiarities of corporeal powers, general 
 constitution, native character, mental powers, excitements, 
 and dispositions, may be differently combined in infinitum, 
 and moreover, each individual is liable, as we said before, not 
 only to continual changes himself, but also to be affected by 
 the alterations that are as incessantly taking place in every 
 thing around him. 
 
 " But, these alterations are often like the quantity in a re- 
 gular cone, where, though there be a manifest difference in 
 the diameter at remote distances, yet, in those parts which 
 immediately touch one another, it is hardly discernible." 
 
 Need we seek farther, in order to account for the endless 
 variety we see in man, and the ever succeeding revolutions 
 that take place in all human affairs ? 
 
 The Original, Acquired, and General Character. 
 
 The physical and mental constitution of each individual 
 form his Original character. The effects produced upon it by 
 the excitements and circumstances determine, we apprehend, 
 what is commonly called his Acquired character ; and, that 
 the two together, with his conduct, make up his General 
 character ; since, when we inquire what is the general cha- 
 racter of such a one, we desire to be made acquainted with 
 
55 
 
 his principal actions, his natural endowments, and the degree 
 of cultivation they have had. 
 
 Children of the same family often differ as widely from one 
 another as from the rest of the species. 
 
 We sometimes see children of all characters, degrees of in- 
 tellect, &c. born of the same parents. The intelligent and 
 imbecile, the good and bad tempered, the interesting and 
 dull, the graceful and awkward, the beautiful and ugly, &c. 
 more or less powerful minds united to weak bodies, and vice 
 versa. The poor, like the rich, casually give birth to genius, 
 and both mental and corporeal grace and beauty ; and being 
 vastly more numerous, prodigies start up amongst them more 
 frequently than amongst their superiors in many adventitious 
 advantages. 
 
 We proceed to examine the Human Mind more in detail. 
 
56 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Of the Soul or Mind, Understanding, Sensibility, Volition. Of the Body, Senses, 
 Sensation. Indifference. Temperament. Desire. Temper. Dispositions. 
 Differences of Temperament and of Temper. Prevailing Dispositions how dis- 
 cerned. Thought, Reflection. The several Faculties of the Understanding. 
 Genius. Imagination. Wit. Humour. Mimickry, &c. Cleverness. Dexte- 
 rity. Taste, 
 
 Of the Soul or Mind. 
 Understanding, Sensibility^ Volition. 
 
 IT is not our intention to discuss the nature of the Soul, we here 
 consider it distinct from the body, therefore merely for the pur- 
 pose of rendering our meaning more intelligible to the reader. 
 
 The Soul or Mind has not only a power or faculty to per- 
 ceive things singly or together; but likewise their resemblances, 
 differences, relations, and reciprocal operations upon each 
 other, &c. this power is termed the Understanding. 
 
 The soul's susceptibility of pleasure and pain, upon its vari- 
 ous perceptions of things, we call its Sensibility. 
 
 From perception and sensibility arises Volition, i. e. a pre- 
 ference for certain actions, and certain impressions, rather 
 than others. 
 
 The effect of the temporary excitement of the sensibility 
 we suppose to be expressed by the word Emotion. 
 
 We cannot imagine the soul or mind in any state of exist- 
 ence to be devoid of either Understanding, Sensibility, or Vo- 
 lition ; of understanding to apprehend its existence, sensibility 
 to feel it, and volition to will good or evil. Understanding, for 
 
instance, to apprehend Infinite Intelligence, sensibility to adore 
 it, and volition to will the performance of what is due to the 
 Author of its unspeakable happiness. 
 
 Whether in other worlds, the soul will be capable of feeling 
 uniformly supremely blest, or be permitted only occasional 
 exquisite emotions, is a question, seemingly as far removed 
 from our present comprehension, as it most certainly is from 
 our present concerns in life. 
 
 Of the Body. 
 Senses, Sensation. 
 
 Five Senses are distinguished, as being the organs of seeing, 
 hearing, feeling, smelling, and tasting. 
 
 These several senses, we find, are fitted to convey sensations 
 to the body, and perceptions to the mind, thus Sensation evi- 
 dently expresses the sensibility of the body. 
 
 A Sensation, therefore, must be to the body what an Emo- 
 tion is to the mind, a temporary affection of it. 
 
 Physical things only can excite sensations in the body, 
 without the active agency of the mind. If we touch a dead 
 person, for example, it excites in us merely the sensation of 
 coldness, but that sensation serves to awaken emotions in us, 
 according to our character, present state of mind and health, 
 and the degree of attachment we bore the deceased. The 
 distress, however, the mind suffers, may afterwards disorder 
 the body, and cause it to experience many painful sensations. 
 But all things, both real and ideal, may reach the mind ; it 
 may be enchanted with substantial beauty, or with such ima- 
 ginary forms, " as float in light vision round the poet's head." 
 
 Though the influence of the emotions upon the body, as of 
 the sensations upon the mind, is vastly extensive, yet there 
 are numerous and insurmountable limits to it. No emotion 
 can cause the sensation of extreme hunger in the body, neither 
 can any sensation of itself, excite despair in the mind. But 
 
58 
 
 the smell of a violet, by delighting the olfactory nerves, may 
 animate the mind to make a thousand reflections, and these 
 reflections cause the beholder to see new and inexpressible 
 charms in this modest and fragrant flower. The same tune 
 striking upon the ear, will at one moment or one period of our 
 lives, awaken us to joy, in another plunge us into grief. 
 
 The sensations of many persons appear to be wonderfully 
 more lively than their emotions, while the dulness of some of 
 those of another, seem far from corresponding with the force 
 of their emotions. The first will be found to have their senses 
 superior to their intellect, the second, vice versa ; but where 
 there is nearly an equality of understanding and temperament, 
 he who has the most acute senses, will necessarily be found to 
 have the most lively emotions ; caeteris paribus, therefore, the 
 more lively the sensations, the more lively the emotions. 
 
 Indifference. 
 
 When things fail to excite any sort of emotion in the mind, 
 we are said to be Indifferent to them. We may behold a 
 place with perfect indifference to-day, and shortly after, re- 
 gard it with the deepest emotion, as containing the ashes of a 
 darling child. 
 
 The Temperament. 
 
 The union of sensibility and sensation is, we apprehend, 
 what is called the Temperament, i. e. the susceptibility of the 
 whole man to be affected with pleasure or pain, by every 
 object both of sensation and reflection ; which susceptibility 
 must necessarily be wonderfully modified by the peculiar 
 constitution of his mind, as well as of his body. This will 
 explain to us, how it comes to pass, that thougji we can distin- 
 guish by peculiar terms the general characters of the tempe- 
 rament and temper of each individual, and so call them ardent 
 or phlegmatic, easy or difficult, accordingly; yet that we could 
 
59 
 
 not find words to express the varieties of them, they being, 
 we believe, numerous as the race of man. Each person, 
 from his infancy, has a certain something in his way of speak- 
 ing, feeling, and acting, peculiar to himself; and which he 
 always retains, whatever changes circumstances may afterwards 
 effect in him. Thus one with an ardent temperament has a 
 sweet temper, noble courage, generous thoughts, &c. another 
 is brutal, fierce, malignant ; and there are some of all shades 
 between these two extremes. We find the same pleasing and 
 disagreeable tempers and dispositions amongst the phleg- 
 matic, but of a more sober complexion. 
 
 Desire. 
 
 From the temperament springs Desire ; it being excited 
 either by the sensibility of the mind, or the sensations of the 
 body, or both. It is the union of volition with the appetites ; 
 for volition expresses the propensities of the mind, and the 
 appetites those of the body. What seems to prove our de- 
 sires to be the expression both of volition and the appetites is, 
 that we find the appetites to be the Will (if we may so call it) 
 of the body ; it would eat and drink to satisfy its hunger and 
 thirst, &c. just as the mind would fain discover the cause of 
 any phenomena to satisfy its curiosity. In fact, we may ob- 
 serve, that some of our desires are purely spiritual, as the 
 appetites are entirely corporeal : such is the desire of appre- 
 hending and worshipping God, and of attaining knowledge 
 independent of all worldly considerations. But most of them 
 are more or less corporeal or spiritual as it may happen. 
 He, for instance, who desires cheerful company and good 
 cheer, may have a higher relish, either for the dainties before 
 him, or for " the feast of reason, and the flow of soul," that 
 animates his associates. 
 
 Man being thus framed to derive pleasure or pain from 
 every object, both of sensation and reflection, he must neces- 
 
60 
 
 sarily desire to obtain that, which he has found to be agree- 
 able to him, and to avoid what has proved otherwise. More- 
 over, his desires cannot but be more or less intense or feeble, 
 according to his temperament, general character, present state 
 of mind and body, and things desired. 
 
 The Temper. 
 
 The Temper seems to be the continual susceptibility of the 
 mind, to be affected by the operations of things, both within 
 and without it, and by the state of the body. The tempera- 
 ment must, therefore, necessarily determine the character of 
 the temper, for the temper can be no other than the general 
 manifestation of the temperament. 
 
 The Dispositions. 
 
 The terms desire and disposition, both in fact express the 
 inclinations we have for certain actions or things ; but Desire 
 is applied to any appetite or wish whatsoever, that may urge 
 us to action ; whereas, Disposition is confined to express the 
 effect a continual repetition of the same desire produces upon 
 the mind ; thus a man may desire to read a particular book, 
 without being addicted to reading in general; but a great 
 reader is said to have a turn for literature, or if he steadily 
 direct his attention to the attainment of any art or science, 
 we call him studious, or declare him disposed to study. We 
 may therefore define the Dispositions to be The occasional and 
 successive propensities that move us to make use of our several 
 operative faculties, according as our wants, either natural or 
 factitious, may suggest, and thus lead us to acquire a habit of 
 acting after a certain fashion. 
 
 Thus the union of Sensibility with Sensation constitutes, we 
 imagine, the Temperament. That of Volition with the Appe- 
 tites, the Desires ; and that the frequent repetition of the same 
 desires, cause them to become Dispositions. The Temper, 
 
61 
 
 we suppose, to be the general effect of the temperament upon 
 our frame, both of mind and body. 
 
 Differences of Temperament. 
 
 Men have, as we said before, distinguished two principal 
 sorts of temperaments, the Ardent and the Phlegmatic, and of 
 both there are the cheerful and melancholy, of all characters 
 and degrees. 
 
 The Ardent commonly are easily excited to feel, and per- 
 suaded to exert themselves in the service of others ; but many 
 of them are much wanting in steadiness and determination. 
 
 The Phlegmatic we find, on the contrary, difficult to work 
 upon, they seeming little disposed to accommodate themselves 
 to other people's wishes, or to take any trouble, or even inte- 
 rest in their concerns ; but when prevailed upon, they gene- 
 rally remain firm in their friendships and purposes. 
 
 With a good understanding and easy temper, the Ardent, it 
 must be acknowledged, are far more interesting and agreeable 
 than the Phlegmatic, of the same pretensions. But some of 
 them have shallow heads, weak sensibility, and lively sensa- 
 tions, which union they betray by what is called strong animal 
 spirits, i. e. a corporeal restlessness and mental inactivity. Such 
 persons are often vastly troublesome to the more sober part 
 of mankind, and cause men heartily to wish rather for the 
 quiet dulness of their compeers for sense amongst the phleg- 
 matic. Such subjects loudly demand sufficient manual occu- 
 pation, to keep them out of mischief: to employ their minds, 
 and to leave their bodies at rest, is to do great violence to 
 nature. 
 
 The temperament, we imagine, never altogether changes its 
 character from sanguine to phlegmatic, and vice versa, though 
 it unquestionably does in degree. The varieties of each seem 
 pretty nearly as follows, but in innumerable degrees. 
 
62 
 
 Of the Sanguine. Of the Phlegmatic. 
 
 Placid, Placid, 
 
 Cheerful, Cheerful, 
 
 Lively, Irritable, 
 
 Sprightly, Grave, 
 
 Gay, Pensive, 
 
 Irritable, Melancholy, 
 
 Grave, Gloomy. 
 Pensive, 
 Melancholy, 
 Gloomy. 
 
 The Temperament or sensibility betrays not only the above 
 differences, but has other peculiar characters. Each indivi- 
 dual, for instance, feels in a manner quite his own. Persons 
 of the most lively sensibility, some of them quickly betray 
 themselves, while others will be as deeply, though silently 
 moved. Many are as remarkable for tenderness as others for 
 roughness. Some are easily and violently affected, but soon 
 forget their grief, whereas others are not agitated by trifling 
 occasions, but dwell long and heavily upon their misfortunes. 
 
 Differences of Temper. 
 
 Each peculiar temperament disposes each individual, as we 
 have before said, to be generally more or less agreeably af- 
 fected by all things whatsoever, so as to occasion his having, 
 what we call, an Easy or Difficult Temper, in a greater or less 
 degree. For we cannot but observe, that things seem to 
 produce a sort of almost continual irritation upon some minds, 
 whereas others again appear seldom disturbed, and this from 
 their very birth. 
 
63 
 
 Of Tempers there are of all degrees, the 
 
 Easy, Difficult, 
 
 Placid, Peevish, 
 
 Sweet, Sulky or. Sullen, 
 
 Fretful, 
 
 Irritable, 
 
 Choleric, 
 
 Irascible. 
 
 Prevailing Dispositions) Propensities, Inclinations, Passions, 
 how discerned. 
 
 The various propensities we have, frequently to repeat certain 
 actions, are, as before observed, termed our Dispositions. Cer- 
 tain things being commonly desired or deprecated, induce regu- 
 lar habits of seeking or avoiding them, and the same actions are 
 performed, and the same opinions entertained in different ways 
 by different persons, with so much uniformity, as to stamp the 
 character of each individual, and thus to betray the general 
 complexion of his mind. 
 
 These modes of actions, having many of them peculiar 
 names assigned them, we pronounce a man to be disposed, 
 severally, and in different degrees, to activity or indolence, to 
 economy or extravagance, to be docile or obstinate, &c. The 
 Passions, we apprehend, are no other than dispositions in their 
 excess, since we say such a one is Inclined, or has a Propen- 
 sity, or is Disposed to, or is Passionately devoted to gaming, 
 drinking, painting, &c. according as he more or less, passion- 
 ately or dispassionately, pursues any one of these objects. 
 Inclination seems to express an incipient desire. It is by his 
 Dispositions, and Manner of shewing them, that we judge of 
 a man's natural and acquired character. 
 
 Thought, Reflection. 
 A Thought is, we imagine, one or more ideas that sponta- 
 
64 
 
 neously, and without effort present themselves to the mind, or 
 are excited in it by sensation. Reflection, the active operation 
 of the mind upon any thoughts arising in it. 
 
 The several Faculties of the Understanding. 
 
 It appears unimportant in what manner an author may dis- 
 tinguish the Mental Powers or faculties, provided he can 
 make his meaning clearly understood, by a candid and intelli- 
 gent reader. For as long as we remain ignorant, of the 
 nature of the understanding, we must content ourselves with 
 observing the operations of the thinking thing within us, and 
 give the several sorts of them distinct names, as perception, 
 retention, &c. And we may afterwards examine, whether any 
 of the thoughts we entertain are of a description that cannot 
 be classed under the varieties nominated. We have adopted 
 Mr. Locke's method, because we observe, that one individual 
 has a quicker Perception ; another, a nicer Discernment ; a 
 third, a more tenacious Memory ; a fourth, a greater penetra- 
 tion in Comparing or discovering relations between any two 
 or more things ; a fifth, a more correct Judgment ; a sixth, a 
 greater readiness at Compounding or Imagining new ideas ; a 
 seventh, in Abstracting or generalizing, or classing various 
 objects in nature; also, that there are numberless combina- 
 tions, of the various degrees of each of these, and likewise, 
 that all men (idiots excepted) have more or less a power of 
 Reasoning. 
 
 Perception. 
 
 " Perception is the first faculty of the mind, exercised about 
 its ideas, and is by some called thinking in general, though 
 thinking, in the propriety of the English tongue, signifies that 
 operation in the mind about its ideas, wherein the mind is 
 active, where it with some degree of voluntary attention, con- 
 siders any thing ; for in bare, naked perception, the mind is 
 for the most part only passive, and what it perceives it cannot 
 
65 
 
 help perceiving ; e. g. we cannot but perceive colours, sounds, 
 densities, flavours, and odours, whenever our senses are ex- 
 posed to be strongly acted upon by them. Perception then, 
 is the first operation of all our intellectual faculties, and the 
 inlet of all knowledge to our minds ; it is the notice the mind 
 takes of any thing in any manner whatsoever, whether by 
 thought or sensation." 
 
 Retention. 
 
 " Retention is the next faculty of the mind, whereby it makes 
 a farther progress towards knowledge. It is the power by which 
 we keep or retain the ideas, the power of perception has in- 
 troduced into our minds. This is done two ways, one, by 
 retaining the idea that is brought into the mind, for some time 
 actually in view, and we call it Contemplation ; the other 
 the reviving, or bringing back to our minds those ideas, which 
 after being imprinted or retained, have disappeared, or have 
 been, as it were, laid out of sight, this is Memory, which we 
 may consider the storehouse of our ideas. It is by the assist- 
 ance of this faculty, that we have all those ideas in our under- 
 standing, which though we do not actually contemplate, yet 
 we can bring in sight, and make the objects of our thoughts, 
 without the help of those sensible qualities, that first im- 
 printed them ; we Contemplate the Heavens, and Remember 
 or Recollect the eclipse of yesterday. We commonly use the 
 word rf collect instead of remember, when it is with some diffi- 
 culty we recal any ideas to our minds." 
 
 Discerning. 
 
 " Discerning is the distinguishing between the several ideas 
 the mind has. It is not enough, to have a confused percep- 
 tion of something in general ; for unless the mind had distinct 
 notions of different objects and their qualities, it would be 
 capable of very little knowledge, though the bodies that affect 
 
us, were as busy about us as they now are, and the mind were 
 continually employed in thinking. We discern gold from lead, 
 and that the fire has the power of hardening some bodies, and 
 of softening others," &c. 
 
 Comparing. 
 
 " With this faculty we compare our ideas one with another, 
 in respect of extent, degrees, time, place, or any other circum- 
 stances; in a word, any relation between them, e.g. London 
 is larger than Bath, snow is whiter than milk, Sylla lived be- 
 fore Augustus ; two trades are equally, or one is more flou- 
 rishing than the other, &c. the ship's stores are sufficient for 
 the length of the voyage, &c. We here compare the quantity 
 of the stores with the probable duration of the voyage." 
 
 The faculty of comparing is most particularly exercised in 
 matters of experience ; thus we compare one circumstance 
 with another, in order to ascertain in what respect they are 
 similar or dissimilar, &c. and afterwards judge accordingly. 
 
 Judgment. 
 
 The faculty which God has given man, to supply the want 
 of clear and certain, or intuitive knowledge, in cases where 
 that cannot be had, is Judgment : e. g. we know by intuition, 
 that white is not black ; we judge, from evidence, that a man 
 is innocent. 
 
 " The being able nicely to distinguish the relations between 
 causes and their effects, where there is but the least difference, 
 consists in a great measure that exactness of judgment, that 
 enables us to determine the most correctly what we ought to 
 think and to do ; e. g. whether the entertainment of such and 
 such thoughts be likely to strengthen, or weaken, or corrupt, 
 the mind, and to what degree : whether the despatching of a 
 ship to such a country at such a season, is likely to secure her 
 a quick and safe voyage, &c." 
 
67 
 
 Compounding. 
 
 Compounding is the power we have of enlarging our ideas 
 by uniting several together; and by giving them, when so 
 united, a name, we make them, as it were, into one ; e. g. 
 what a variety of ideas we unite by the word politics ! and by 
 compounding certain other ideas, we at pleasure imagine such 
 beings as fairies, witches, &c. 
 
 Abstracting. 
 
 The power of abstracting enables us to class things into ge- 
 nera and species. We abstract or leave out certain ideas or 
 qualities in which certain things differ, and consider them 
 only so far as they have a common resemblance with each 
 other ; e. g. the same colour being observed to-day in chalk or 
 snow, which the mind yesterday perceived in milk, it considers 
 that appearance alone, and having given it the name white- 
 ness, it by that sound signifies the same quality, wheresoever 
 to be imagined or met with, and thus universals (as was said 
 before), whether ideas or terms, are made. 
 
 Reasoning. 
 
 The term Reason, we apprehend, to be in one sense ano- 
 ther name for understanding, and not for a distinct power of 
 it. Reasons are arguments for or against any proposition- 
 Reasoning, a peculiar mode of exercising the mental facul- 
 ties, the deducing consequences from certain premises, and 
 where the consequences arise properly out of the premises, it 
 is said to be right reasoning otherwise, false ; but we shall 
 better explain our meaning by example : 
 
 We perceive two men, the one regularly and usefully em- 
 ployed, the other not ; and that one has gained wherewithal 
 both to feed and clothe himself, the other not: we consequently 
 discern the difference between the fate of an industrious and 
 of an idle (poor) man ; we compare the several differences one 
 
68 
 
 with the other, and judge industrious habits to be the most con- 
 formable to our well-being. Our Reasons for judging so are, 
 because we find the industrious commonly prosper in life, and 
 make good fathers and citizens. Our arguments are the Rea- 
 sons that induce us to entertain such an opinion ; our Reason- 
 ing is the chain of arguments that ultimately brings us to the 
 point we would arrive at, that is, to the proof or demonstra- 
 tion, that industry is to be preferred to idleness. We shall 
 shortly return to this subject. 
 
 Genius, Imagination, Fancy. 
 
 There are persons of genius, we find, without imagination ; 
 others of imagination without genius ; and some with both 
 one and the other. 
 
 Wherever Genius appears, it seems to betray, not only pow- 
 erful intellectual faculties, but also strong sensibility, no matter 
 of what character. Supposing two men to have nearly similar 
 temperaments and organization, but very different degrees of 
 understanding, it is reasonable to conclude, that the one who has 
 the most lively apprehensions of things will be apt commonly to 
 experience most pleasure or pain from them. Sir Isaac New- 
 ton and Mr. Locke had indisputably the highest degree of 
 human intelligence, but we are at a loss to conjecture what 
 caused each of them to pursue i such distinct inquiries, unless 
 it were owing to a constitutional peculiarity. We cannot be 
 persuaded, that any circumstances could alone have given 
 their genius, respectively, so decided a bent. It seems proba- 
 ble that each mind was predisposed to ^receive certain impres- 
 sions, and that the attention was forcibly attracted to notice 
 most particularly those accidents, that afforded subjects of re- 
 flection best suited to their individual genius, for 
 
 " The difference is as great between 
 The optic seeing as the object seen." 
 
69 
 
 Examples have been often quoted of men, who were not 
 to be diverted from their strong natural bent by severe conti- 
 nual opposition ; how much more then are they likely to take 
 it, when no great obstacles arise to prevent them doing so ? 
 Many have appeared immediately electrified, as it were, by the, 
 perception of objects connected with the pursuit nature had con- 
 stituted them to follow, and to lose the impression of genius, as 
 soon as they turned their attention to employments not suited to 
 their peculiar frame of mind. Nature seems wisely to have 
 fitted the bulk of mankind for carrying on any of the common 
 concerns of life, and men of genius to effect discoveries, inven- 
 tions, and improvements, that demand extraordinary energies. 
 Superior intellectual faculties appear to us the very essence, as it 
 were, of genius ; but this superiority is sometimes found to be 
 more particularly in the power of invention ; sometimes in that 
 of reasoning and discovering; but in different men we may per- 
 ceive all the varieties and degrees both of the one and the 
 other, exercised in the establishing or improving of some pe- 
 culiar art or science. 
 
 The temperament must necessarily determine the character 
 of each genius, i. e. its manner of feeling, whether it be 
 strong, lively, tender, stern, or morose, &c. What influence, the 
 more or less acute organization of one or more of the senses 
 has upon the intellect, we may perceive to be often made appa- 
 rent by the comparison of opposite examples. The union 
 of fine organization with strong intellect we suspect gives 
 the stamp both of genius and imagination, consequently, the 
 stronger the intellect, the more transcendent the genius the 
 finer the organs, the brighter the imagination. For the more 
 acute the organs, the more lively impressions they are likely 
 to convey to the mind, as we said before, and thus to rouse it 
 more forcibly to notice things, and the faculty it has of ima- 
 gining or compounding new objects, or of varying those it is 
 already acquainted with, will by its operations, betray the 
 
70 
 
 general strength of the understanding. We suppose also that 
 acute organs, but an ordinary understanding, causes a lively 
 imagination, or a happy dexterity at imitation, but not a ca- 
 pability of invention. There seems to be the same differ- 
 ence between genius and imagination as between sober reason 
 and sportive fancy ; genius ennobles imagination, and imagina- 
 tion imparts numerous and some exquisite charms to genius. 
 
 Mozart had evidently a most delicate perception of sounds,, 
 discerned nicely the one from the other, compared their re- 
 semblances, differences, and relations, compounded them va- 
 riously, and judged how they might be arranged in the most 
 skilful manner, to produce that extraordinary degree of me- 
 lody and harmony that so greatly and generally charms all 
 lovers of music. Is it not probable, that an exquisitely orga- 
 nized ear led him to employ his superior mental powers in the 
 composition of music ? Without that acuteness of the organ 
 he could not have judged so accurately of the force and beau- 
 ty of sounds, with their various modulations ; and without the 
 superior intellect he would have been wanting in invention ; 
 his very ardent temperament occasioned those impassioned 
 feelings which, too freely indulged, seem actually to have con- 
 sumed him. He who has an acute ear with mental powers of 
 a common stamp, often succeeds in acquiring great skill in the 
 execution of music, but never betrays genius never greatly 
 distinguishes himself by his compositions ; the degree of delight 
 music affords him depends also upon the nature of his tem- 
 perament. We sometimes see persons of very dull intellect 
 notable dancers and lovers of sweet sounds ; their sprightliness 
 arises probably from a fine ear and ardent temperament. 
 
 In the productions of Michel Angelo and Raphael we be- 
 hold transcendent genius express itself in the most striking 
 manner ; on the other hand, it is not uncommon for a person 
 with a remarkably correct eye, to imitate the paintings of these 
 great masters to such a nicety, as to deceive the most practised 
 
71 
 
 critic ; yet he at the same time, perhaps, proves himself utterly 
 destitute of that enviable originality of design which Nature 
 reserves for her favourites. Thus we suppose the union of 
 superior senses with superior intellect makes up the happy 
 combination of genius and imagination, which has so often 
 excited the surprise and admiration of mankind, by effecting 
 those many wonderful works that variously adorn and benefit 
 the world. 
 
 Whether the peculiar organization of the eye has any thing 
 to do with mechanical genius, we are at a loss to guess, but 
 we do not entertain a doubt of men being forcibly attracted to 
 notice curious pieces of mechanism, and readily to suggest 
 improvements in them when impelled to it by the common 
 mother of genius : Mr. Watt was a highly distinguished 
 instance of it. Great dexterity in some of the executive parts 
 of mechanics, seems certainly to require a correct eye, and 
 possibly too, a nice touch ; but we are ignorant, if there have 
 been men of genius of this description, some of whom have 
 proved themselves not fitted to excel in the more delicate 
 operations, though they have become eminent by directing 
 the labours of others. 
 
 The union of Genius with imagination communicates to 
 us the power to create, invent, or compound, with more or 
 less skill, new worlds, new scenes, new beings, new charac^ 
 ters, new associations of ideas, new arts ; in a word, the fertile 
 mind can in detail image to itself, altogether, a new state of 
 existence. Shakspeare united the most sublime genius with 
 the most creative imagination. His was 
 
 " The poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling, 
 Glancing from Heav'n to earth, from earth to Heav'n :" 
 
 all his senses were, perhaps, so finely organized, that he 
 was alternately attracted to note down the very lively impres- 
 sions he received by their various inlets. Beauty in every 
 part of nature's works charmed him, whether intellectual or 
 
72 
 
 physical. In him we discover the most ready perception, the 
 most acute discernment of the infinitely various workings of 
 the human mind, the most just comparisons, the most di- 
 versified compositions of new images, and a fine, correct 
 judgment (in his frequent happiest moments), in introducing 
 them, so as to affect his audience in the manner he desired. 
 
 Many persons, though they be not constituted to invent 
 them, yet are capable of readily beholding the poetical crea- 
 tions of others, and of being suitably and deeply charmed and 
 agitated by the sentiments and passions, imputed to the seve- 
 ral personages introduced. Some again, are more or less de- 
 nied the ability of enjoying the visions of genius and imagina- 
 tion, notwithstanding they possess as strong, perhaps stronger, 
 powers, both to reason and judge. These differences also, 
 doubtless, depend upon some constitutional peculiarities, both 
 of the temperament and senses. 
 
 Lord Bacon, like Shakespeare, was enchanted with the de- 
 licious perfume, 
 
 " Of the bank whereon the wild thyme blows, 
 Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows ;" 
 
 and loved to court " the air that nimbly and sweetly recom- 
 mends itself unto our gentle senses:" moreover, he delighted 
 in music, yet, still imagination was not the distinguishing feature 
 of his lordship's mind. He seems to have had his faculties 
 constituted, rather to take a vast and comprehensive view of 
 nature, so as to have been led to discover the means of wresting 
 from her those secrets, that most deeply concern man to be- 
 come familiarly acquainted with. 
 
 The peculiar constitution of the individual determines him 
 also, apparently, to be a wit or a humourist, or a mimic, &c. 
 and of Ja certain character ; for experience serves to prove, 
 that no education nor circumstances can make any one so, 
 though the talents he has received from nature may be wonder- 
 fully cultivated or neglected. 
 
73 
 
 The lowest degree of imagination, we presume, takes the 
 name of Fancy. But, to conclude, superior intellect is, we 
 believe, universally acknowledged, to constitute genius, conse- 
 quently genius must absolutely be confined to the favoured 
 few ; but, imagination is, in fact, common to all men capable 
 of compounding ideas, and 
 
 " Such tricks hath strong Imagination, 
 That, if it would but apprehend some joy, 
 It comprehends some Bringer of that joy ; 
 Or, in the night, imagining some fear, 
 How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear." 
 
 A more or less ardent temperament and more or less acute 
 senses we suppose, suitably animate both genius and imagina- 
 tion, but that genius only can give that bold or delicate stamp 
 to the imagination that marks it for pre-eminence amongst 
 men. 
 
 Wit, 
 
 " Wit lies most in the assemblage of ideas, and the putting 
 those together with quickness and variety, wherein can be 
 found any resemblance or congruity, thereby to make up plea- 
 sant pictures, or agreeable visions in the fancy, so acceptable 
 to all people, and whose beauty appears at first sight, with- 
 out any labour of thought." Locke. 
 
 " Wit is a thing so versatile and multiform, appearing in so 
 many shapes, so many postures, so many garbs, so variously 
 apprehended by several eyes and judgments, that it seemeth 
 no less hard to settle a clear and certain notion thereof, than 
 to make a portrait of Proteus, or to define the figure of the 
 fleeting air. Sometimes it lieth in pat allusions to a known 
 story, or in seasonable application of a trivial saying, or in 
 forging an apposite tale ; sometimes it playeth on words and 
 phrases, taking advantage from the ambiguity of their sense, 
 or the affinity of their sound ; sometimes it is wrapped up in a 
 dress of humourous expression ; sometimes it lieth under an 
 
74 
 
 odd similitude ; sometimes it is lodged in a sly question, in a 
 smart answer, in a quirkish reason, in a shrewd intimation, in 
 cunningly diverting, or smartly retorting an objection; some- 
 times it is concealed in a bold scheme of speech, in a tart 
 irony, or in a lusty hyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a 
 plausible reconciling of contradictions, or in acute nonsense ; 
 sometimes a cynical representation of persons and things, a 
 counterfeit speech, a mimical look or gesture passeth for it; 
 sometimes an affected simplicity ; sometimes a presumptuous 
 bluntness gives it being ; sometimes it riseth only from a lucky 
 hitting upon what is strange ; sometimes from a crafty wrest- 
 ing of matter obvious to the purpose : often it consisteth in 
 one knows not what, and springeth up one can hardly tell 
 how. Its ways are unaccountable and inexplicable, being an- 
 swerable to the numberless rovings of fancy, and windings of 
 language. It raiseth admiration, as signifying a nimble saga- 
 city of apprehension, a special felicity of invention, a vivacity 
 of spirit, and reach of thought more than vulgar ; it seemeth 
 to argue a rare quickness of parts, that one can fetch in remote 
 conceits applicably ; a notable skill, that can dexterously ac- 
 commodate them to the purpose before him, together with a 
 lively briskness of humour, not apt to damp those sportful 
 flashes of imagination. It also procureth delight by gratifying 
 curiosity with its rareness, or semblance of difficulty, by di- 
 verting the mind from its road of serious thoughts, by instill- 
 ing gaiety and airiness of spirits, by provoking to such disposi- 
 tions of gaiety in way of emulation or complaisance, and by 
 seasoning matters otherwise distasteful or insipid, with an un- 
 usual and thence grateful savour." Barrow. 
 
 According to Dr. Barrow's definition of wit, it appears to be 
 an aptness to compound certain notions in various ways, so as 
 to produce new images in the mind. Some wits have a satiri- 
 cal turn, either railing or laughing at the follies and wicked- 
 ness of mankind ; some are sportive, some saturnine ; in short, 
 
75 
 
 there are of them, of all characters and degrees, with more or 
 less genius, imagination, &c. 
 
 Humour, Mimicry. 
 
 The Humorous, and those inclined to Mimicry, are also to 
 he found amongst men of every description, including persons 
 of Garrick's high stamp, and the successful imitator of mere 
 common gestures and sounds. The jester, the punster, the 
 wag, &c. all have more or less pretensions to imagination or 
 fancy. In Garrick we discover the mimic, and the man of ge- 
 nius and imagination; his genius giving a high tone to his 
 mimicry, and his mimicry marking the versatility of his ge- 
 nius. Baron Grimm says of him, 
 
 " Garrick is beyond all praise : one must see him to form 
 an idea of his extraordinary excellence in the histrionic art, 
 both in tragedy and comedy. This actor is the first and the 
 only one who has completely answered, all that my imagination 
 expected and exacted from a comedian. He has proved to 
 my entire satisfaction that the ideas one forms to oneself of 
 perfection, are not so chimerical as some narrow minded peo- 
 ple are apt to conclude them to be. We saw him act the 
 poniard scene in the tragedy of Macbeth in a private room, 
 in his ordinary dress, without any assistance from theatrical 
 illusions ; and, as he followed with his eyes, the imaginary re- 
 ceding weapon suspended in the air, his countenance assumed 
 such a wonderfully appropriate and striking expression, that 
 it excited a general burst of applause. Would it have been 
 credited, that this same man, the moment after, could counter- 
 feit with equal success a pastry-cook's boy, carrying patties on 
 his head, who, while gaping about in the streets, let fall his 
 dish into the gutter, then stood stupified, and afterwards burst 
 
 into tears." 
 
 Cleverness. 
 
 Cleverness, we apprehend, denotes a degree of intellect 
 
more or less below genius, but generally something above 
 mediocrity. It seems to be a readiness of judging what ar- 
 rangements are most likely to answer in matters concerning 
 the making or repairing of any thing. The best method of 
 dispatching quickly and advantageously any public or private 
 business, or of executing notably any commissions, whether it 
 be in the serving of a banquet, or in the disposal of a ship's 
 cargo, &c. 
 
 Those who are capable of discovering, inventing, or greatly 
 improving things, are generally termed ingenious, as pretend- 
 ing more or less to genius, and thus ranking above the clever. 
 
 Dexterity. 
 
 Dexterity seems to be literally applied to the skilful per- 
 formance of any manual labour. By his dexterity a man may 
 betray the first-rate mental powers, or different degrees of 
 cleverness, or a mere facility of imitation. When nature has 
 favoured a pupil, he often becomes a master in his art, and in- 
 vents new and improved methods of executing his work. 
 But, if his principal merit be derived from education, he com- 
 monly continues to plod on as he has been taught to do, 
 until he receive other instructions. 
 
 Taste. 
 
 Taste literally is, as we all know, the power we have of dis- 
 tinguishing one flavour from that of another by the means of 
 our palate. Figuratively, it implies the different degrees of 
 admiration we feel upon the perception of a variety of things 
 fashioned or arranged in a certain manner, either by nature, 
 or the art of man, or the preference we have for certain 
 modes of action. To say that we have a taste for a thing or 
 action is, in fact, to say, that we love it, or that it excites a 
 pleasant feeling in our minds ; if we neither like nor dislike it, 
 we remain unmoved, but in proportion as the thing or action 
 
77 
 
 is displeasing to us, we are said to be offended by what we 
 consider a bad taste. The degree of our sensibility to the se- 
 veral objects of taste, must, therefore, greatly depend upon 
 the force of our various mental powers, upon the organization 
 of our different senses, and upon circumstances. 
 
 We cannot but observe in infants, as soon as they notice 
 things, the different degrees of preference they shew to some, 
 and of antipathy to others, whether they be objects affecting 
 the sight, hearing, feeling, smell or taste, and the various tastes 
 we subsequently have, are but the different modifications of 
 this same feeling implanted in us by nature, and afterwards 
 encouraged or repressed by our more or less correct judg- 
 ment. Want of taste, therefore, we Apprehend to be, an im- 
 proper expression, but not so the want of a good, refined, 
 chaste, or elegant taste. As children, we are " pleased with a 
 rattle, tickled with a straw," and the same sensibility leads us 
 in after life, to admire flowers, trees, rocks, &c. dress, furni- 
 ture, statues, pictures, &c. We derive more or less pleasure 
 from having our various senses affected by certain objects; 
 and if we continue to seek them, in order to renew the delight 
 they have once afforded us, we are said either to betray a taste 
 for, or to acquire a taste for them. 
 
 The infinitely various combinations of natural powers, of 
 temperaments, and of the casual circumstances of life, are fully 
 adequate to account for the vast variety of tastes found 
 amongst men. And as the character of our several tastes, 
 depend as much upon our natural powers arid temperament, 
 as upon our education and situation in life, we may easily 
 explain, why superior minds will sometimes, under the greatest 
 disadvantages, have a chaste and even elegant taste ; while 
 inferior ones prove themselves incapable of understanding or 
 relishing the beauties either of nature or of art, though placed 
 continually before their eyes, and they fully at leisure to con- 
 template them. 
 
78 
 
 We suppose men by their peculiar organization and by 
 ircumstances, to have, as we said before, their attention often 
 directed to particular objects, and thereby to acquire a taste 
 for them ; but it is very difficult, if not impossible, to ascer- 
 tain how far our natural powers determine the character of 
 our tastes, or how far they are the result of education and 
 circumstances. Of this, however, we cannot entertain a doubt, 
 that habit has the force in most cases, greatly to improve, 
 correct, or vitiate our taste in all things ; in other words, to 
 make us more or less relish whatever is good or bad for us. 
 The concurrent approbation of the generality of men in all 
 ages, is universally acknowledged, we believe, to determine 
 the standard of good taste in most works of literature and of 
 the arts; and those habits and things that commonly best 
 contribute to our convenience and well-being, ought surely to 
 be the standard of a correct taste, in matters concerning our 
 general conduct. For to indulge in such habits, and to seek 
 and enjoy such things as are eventually prejudicial to us, our 
 reason tells us, must, by whatever authority established, be a 
 vicious taste ; unless we allow, that God intended man to be 
 a sluggard, drunkard, gambler, glutton, &c. Otherwise, it 
 cannot but be considered the duty of all parents to instil, if 
 possible, into the minds of their children, both by precept and 
 example, a taste for rationally early hours, useful occupations, 
 wholesome food, fresh air, salutary exercise, and the love of 
 general order. Man ought to be so educated, in short, as to 
 acquire a taste for, or to be agreeably affected by whatever 
 he believes to be good, and to have a distaste for, or repug- 
 nance to whatever he knows to be evil. 
 
 In the various productions of human industry we may dis- 
 cover more or less genius, more or less imagination, more or 
 less wit, more or less humour, more or less cleverness, more or 
 less dexterity, and a better or worse taste. 
 
79 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Knowledge, Ignorance. Degrees of Knowledge. Truth. Error. Mutable, Immu- 
 table Truth. Moral Truth, Falsehood. Belief, Assent, Opinion, Probability, 
 Certainty, Doubt. Conjecture. Assent, Dissent. Concatenation of Ideas. As- 
 sociation of Ideas. 
 
 Knowledge and Ignorance. 
 
 " WE are of necessity Ignorant, and want Knowledge of all 
 sorts, where we want ideas. Knowledge is the perception of 
 the agreement or disagreement of two or more ideas. When 
 we know, for instance, that white is not black, what do we, but 
 perceive that these two ideas do not agree ; but that equality 
 to two right ones does necessarily agree to, and is inseparable 
 from the three angles of a triangle" 
 
 This agreement or disagreement consists of four sorts 
 
 1. Identity or diversity, 
 
 2. Relation, 
 
 3. Co-existence or necessary connexion, 
 
 4. Real existence. 
 
 " First, As to the first sort of agreement or disagreement, 
 viz. Identity or Diversity ; it is the first act of the mind, when 
 it has any sentiments or ideas at all, to perceive its ideas, and so 
 far as it perceives them, to know each what it is, and thereby 
 also to perceive their difference, and that one is not another. 
 This is so absolutely necessary, that without it there could be 
 no knowledge, no reasoning, no imagination, no distinct 
 thoughts at all ; this the mind does without pains or labour, 
 
80 
 
 at first view, by its natural power of perception and distinc- 
 tion.' 1 
 
 :s Secondly, The next sort of agreement or disagreement 
 the mind perceives in any of its ideas, may I think, be called 
 Relative, and is nothing but the perception of the relation be- 
 tween any two ideas, of what kind soever, whether substances, 
 modes, or any other. For since all distinct ideas, must eter- 
 nally be known not to be the same, and so be universally and 
 constantly denied one of another, there could be no room 
 for any positive knowledge at all, if we could not perceive any 
 relation between our ideas, and find out the agreement or dis- 
 agreement they have with one another, in the several ways the 
 mind takes of comparing them." 
 
 " Thirdly, The third sort of agreement or disagreement to 
 be found in our ideas, which the perception of the mind is 
 employed about, is Co-existence, or Non-coexistence, in the 
 same subject, and this belongs particularly to substances. 
 Thus when we pronounce concerning gold, that it is fixed, 
 our knowledge of this truth amounts to no more but this, that 
 fixedness, or a power to remain in the fire unconsumed, is 
 an idea that always accompanies, and is joined with that par- 
 ticular sort of yellowness, weight, fusibility, malleableness, and 
 solubility in aq. regia, which makes up our complex idea, 
 signified by the word gold." 
 
 " Fourthly, The fourth and last sort is, that of Actual and 
 Real Existence agreeing to any idea. Within these four sorts 
 of agreement or disagreement is, I suppose, contained all the 
 knowledge we have, or are capable of; for all the inquiries 
 that we can make concerning any of our ideas, all that we 
 know or can affirm, concerning any of them is, that it is, or is 
 not, the same as some other idea ; that it has this or that rela- 
 tion to some other idea ; that it does or does not always co- 
 exist with some idea in the same subject, or that it has a real 
 exist&tice without the mind. Thus, blue is not yellow, or St. 
 
81 
 
 Paul's is not Windsor Castle, is of Identity : Two triangles 
 upon equal bases, between two parallels are equal, or London 
 is larger than Paris, is of Relation: Iron is susceptible of 
 magnetical impressions, or a shark has teeth, is of Co-exist- 
 ence. God is of Real existence. Though identity and co- 
 existence are truly nothing but relations, yet they are such pe- 
 culiar ways of agreement or disagreement of our ideas, that 
 they deserve well to be considered under distinct heads, and 
 not as relation in general." 
 
 Our perception of the agreement or disagreement of our 
 ideas, with respect to Identity and Diversity, extends of course 
 to every thing whatsoever, we being able to perceive whether 
 a thing is the same or another. 
 
 " The perception of the agreement or disagreement of our 
 ideas with respect to Relation, extends as far as we can per- 
 ceive any relation between any two things whatsoever. This, 
 as it is the largest field of our knowledge, so it is scarcely to 
 be determined how far it may extend, for it is not easy to 
 discover when reason has all the assistance it is capable of 
 receiving, for the finding of proofs, or examining the agree- 
 ment or disagreement of remote ideas." If we would demon- 
 strate, for instance, that drunkenness is a vice, and sobriety a 
 virtue, we must endeavour to find out what ideas agree or 
 disagree with our ideas, both of the one and the other : thus 
 our idea of the body being rendered feverish, agrees with, or 
 is related to our idea of drunkenness, but disagrees with, or is 
 not related to our idea of sobriety; whereas the mind not 
 being for a time more or less deprived of its powers of discern- 
 ing, judging, reasoning, &c. agrees with, or is related to our 
 idea of sobriety, and not to that of drunkenness. But it would 
 occupy many hours if not days, to" enumerate all the evils, 
 public and private, that may spring more or less immediately, 
 or remotely, from the practice of this vice, and all the good 
 that may arise from the observance of sobriety. It is by find- 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 ing the agreement or disagreement then, or Relation or non- 
 Relation of all the ideas enumerated, to the ideas we have of 
 drunkenness and sobriety, that we can arrive at demonstrating 
 that the one is to be preferred to the other, or that one is a 
 vice and the other a virtue. 
 
 Again, we lay down two propositions : one, That health is 
 preferable to pleasure, and the other, That virtue is preferable 
 to health. Now in order to demonstrate the reasonableness of 
 these two propositions, we must examine, how far, and in what 
 particulars, the concurring experience of mankind has proved 
 health to be preferable to mere pleasure, and virtue to health ; 
 e. g. health is commonly found to be more durable than plea- 
 sure, to bring us fewer pains, to be favourable to cheerfulness, 
 activity, and long life, &c. The pursuit of pleasure on the con- 
 trary, is apt we find, to lead us to commit excesses, enervating 
 both to the mind and body, and to distract us unseasonably from 
 useful occupations, &c. and we have both reason and revela- 
 tion to assure us, that virtue ought to be of more weight with us 
 than either, since it concerns our welfare, not only in this 
 world but in the next. So far as these intermediate ideas 
 agree with those in the two propositions in question, and with 
 one another, so far the reasoning is said to be sound, other- 
 wise false ; for instance, it is false to say that pleasure is never 
 dangerous, because this assertion is found to be contrary to 
 fact ; for the never-being dangerous does not agree with our 
 idea of the eager pursuit of what is called pleasure. 
 
 Our perception of the agreement or disagreement of our 
 ideas, with respect to Co-existence or non-co-existence, con- 
 cerns, as has been said before, mostly our ideas of substances ; 
 for instance, we may enumerate all the ideas we have that co- 
 exist in our ideas of a sheep, a turtle, a ruby, a flower, gold, 
 c. Amphibious is an idea that does not agree with, or does not 
 co-exist with our idea of a sheep ; but it does agree with, and 
 does co-exist with our ideas of a turtle ; transparency co-exists 
 
83 
 
 with our idea of a polished ruby, but not of gold. Experience 
 alone can determine, what ideas we may hereafter find to agree 
 or disagree with our ideas of any substances whatsoever, since 
 new discoveries excite new ideas in us, upon the perception of 
 such as have hitherto been considered devoid of certain powers 
 or qualities, &c. for example, powers of preserving or de- 
 stroying life, may possibly be proved to exist in things not at 
 present suspected capable of any such uses. It would not 
 perhaps, be unamusing to youth, occasionally to enumerate 
 the several ideas that are known to co-exist in the several 
 substances. For example, our ideas of life, birth, growth, 
 maturity, age, decay, and death, co-exist with our ideas of all 
 animals and vegetables whatsoever, likewise spontaneous mo- 
 tion in all animals, also rationality in all men, (idiots are as 
 non-entities). The ancients, as we all know, looked upon air 
 and water, &c. as elements, but what a variety of ideas now 
 co-exist in those two substances ! The use of the word idea in 
 this sense, saves us endless circumlocution, and cannot we 
 imagine, be misunderstood. We substitute the word that 
 expresses our perception of a thing, for a quality of the thing 
 itself, and thus speak of it, as though the idea were in the 
 thing, instead of being in our minds. 
 
 Some persons have a wonderful power of reasoning, and by 
 continued inference, not only make, but suggest discoveries in 
 the intellectual as well as in the physical world. Mr. Locke 
 says, " Mr. Newton, in his never enough to be admired book, 
 has demonstrated several propositions which are so many new 
 truths, before unknown to the world, and are farther advances 
 in mathematical knowledge; and he attained his object by 
 finding out the intermediate ideas, which shewed the agree- 
 ment or disagreement of the ideas, as expressed in the propo- 
 sitions he demonstrated." 
 
 " Our reason is often at a stand, because it perceives not 
 those ideas which could serve to shew the certain or probable 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 agreement or disagreement of any other two ideas ; and in 
 this, some men's faculties far outgo others. Till algebra, that 
 great instrument, and instance of human sagacity, was disco- 
 vered, men with amazement, looked on many of the demon- 
 strations of ancient mathematicians, and could scarce forbear 
 to think the finding several of those proofs, to be something 
 more than human. And what farther improvements and 
 helps, advantageous to other parts of knowledge, the saga- 
 cious mind of man may yet find out, I cannot pretend to guess. 
 It appears to me, the ideas of quantity are not those alone 
 which are capable of demonstration and knowledge, and that 
 other, and perhaps more useful parts of contemplation, would 
 afford us certainty, if vices, passions, and domineering interests 
 did not oppose, or menace such endeavours." 
 
 " Yet reason, though it penetrates into the depths of the 
 sea and earth, though it elevates our thoughts as high as the 
 stars, and leads us through the vast spaces and large rooms of 
 this mighty fabric, yet as it comes far short of the real extent 
 of even corporeal beings, there must be many instances in 
 which it fails us. It perfectly fails us where our ideas fail ; it 
 neither does, nor can extend itself farther than they do ; 
 and therefore, wherever ideas fail us, our reasoning stops, 
 and we are at the end of our reckoning ; and if at any time 
 we reason about words, which do not stand positively for cer- 
 tain ideas, it is only about those sounds and nothing else, that 
 
 we argue." 
 
 The Degrees of Knowledge. 
 
 Knowledge is of three degrees, Intuitive, Demonstrative, 
 and Sensitive. Thus the mind perceives that white is not 
 black, that a circle is not a triangle, that three are more than 
 two, and equal to one and two. Such kind of truths the 
 mind perceives at first sight of the ideas together, by bare 
 Intuition, without the intervention of any other* idea ; and 
 this kind of knowledge is the clearest and most certain, that 
 
85 
 
 human frailty is capable of. This part of knowledge is irre- 
 sistible ; like bright sunshine, it forces itself to be immediately 
 perceived, and leaves no room for hesitation, doubt, or exami- 
 nation. He that demands a greater certainty than this, shews 
 only that he has a mind to be a sceptic, without being able to 
 be so. Certainty depends so wholly on this intuition, that 
 in the next degree of knowledge, which I call demonstrative, 
 this intuition is necessary in all the connexions of the interme- 
 diate ideas, and without which we cannot attain knowledge 
 and certainty. 
 
 The next degree of knowledge is, where the mind perceives 
 the agreement or disagreement of any ideas, but not immedi- 
 ately. The reason why the mind cannot always perceive 
 presently the agreement or disagreement of two ideas is, be- 
 cause those ideas, concerning whose agreement or disagree- 
 ment the inquiry is made, cannot by the mind be so put toge- 
 ther, as to shew it. In this case then, when the mind cannot 
 so bring its ideas together, as by their immediate comparison, 
 and as it were, juxta position, or application one to another, 
 to perceive their agreement or disagreement, it is fain, by the 
 intervention of other ideas (one or more as it happens) to dis- 
 cover the agreement or disagreement which it searches ; and 
 this is that which we call Reasoning. Thus the mind being 
 willing to know the agreement or disagreement in the bigness 
 between the three angles of a triangle, and two right ones, 
 cannot, by an immediate view and comparing them do it, 
 because the three angles of a triangle cannot be brought at 
 once, and be compared with any one or two angles, and so of 
 this the mind has no immediate, no intuitive knowledge. In 
 this case, the mind is led to find out some other angles, to 
 which the three angles of a triangle have an equality, and 
 finding those equal to two right ones, comes to know the 
 equality to two right ones. This knowledge by intervening 
 proofs, though it be certain, yet the evidence of it is not alto- 
 
86 
 
 gether so bright nor so clear, nor the assent so ready, as in 
 intuitive knowledge ; besides, there is this farther difference 
 between Demonstrative and Intuitive knowledge, that though 
 in the former all doubt be removed, when by the intervention 
 of the intermediate ideas the agreement or disagreement is 
 perceived, yet before the demonstration there was a doubt, 
 which in intuitive knowledge cannot happen to a mind, capa- 
 ble of entertaining distinct ideas. But every step in reasoning 
 that produces knowledge, has intuitive certainty, and this in- 
 tuitive perception of the agreement or disagreement of the 
 intermediate ideas, in each step and progression of the demon- 
 stration, must also be carried exactly in the mind, and a man 
 must be sure that no part is left out ; which because in long 
 deductions, and the use of many proofs, the memory does not 
 always so readily and exactly retain; therefore it comes to 
 pass, that this is more imperfect than intuitive knowledge, 
 and men often embrace error or falsehood for demonstration. 
 These two, viz. Intuition and Demonstration, are the de- 
 grees of our knowledge; whatever comes short of one of thesej 
 with what assurance soever embraced, is but faith or opinion, 
 but not knowledge, at least in all general truths. There is 
 indeed, another perception of the mind employed about the 
 particular existence of finite beings without us, which going be- 
 yond bare probability, and yet not reaching perfectly to either 
 of the foregoing degrees of certainty, passes under the name of 
 knowledge. There can be nothing more certain, than that 
 the idea we receive from an external object is in our minds ; 
 this is intuitive knowledge. But whether there be any thing 
 more than barely that idea in our minds, whether we can 
 thence certainly infer the existence of any thing without us, 
 which corresponds to that idea, is that whereof some men 
 think there may be a question made, because men may have 
 such ideas in their minds, when no such thing exists, no such 
 object affects their senses. But yet here, I think we are 
 
87 
 
 provided with an evidence that puts us past doubting ; for I 
 ask any one, whether he be not invincibly conscious to himself 
 of a different perception when he looks on the sun by day, 
 and thinks on it by night ; when he actually tastes wormwood, 
 or smells a rose, or thinks only on that savour and odour ; and 
 there is a very manifest difference between dreaming of being 
 in the fire, and being actually in one. We as plainly find the 
 difference here is, between any idea revived in our minds by 
 our own memory, and actually coming into our minds by our 
 senses, as we do between any two distinct ideas. So that I 
 think we may add to the two former sorts of knowledge, this 
 also of the existence of particular external objects, by that 
 perception and consciousness we have of the actual entrance 
 of ideas from them, and allow, these three degrees of know- 
 ledge, viz. Intuitive, Demonstrative, and Sensitive; in each 
 of which there are different degrees and ways of evidence and 
 certainty. Thus of the Real actual existence of things, we have 
 an intuitive knowledge of our own existence ; a demonstrative 
 knowledge of the existence of a God ; but of the existence of 
 any thing else, we have no other than a sensitive knowledge, 
 which extends not beyond the objects present to our senses. 
 
 " How vain and foolish a thing it is then, to put others 
 upon demonstrating, or ourselves upon search of universal 
 certainty in all those matters wherein we are not capable of 
 any other knowledge, but what our senses give us in this or 
 that particular. Man has had reason given him to judge of 
 the different evidence and probability of things, and to be 
 swayed accordingly : how vain I say then, it is, to expect de* 
 monstration and certainty in things, not admitting of it, and 
 to refuse assent to very rational propositions, and act contrary 
 to very plain and clear truths, because they cannot be made 
 out so evident as to surmount every the least, (I will not say 
 reason) but pretence of doubting." 
 
88 
 
 | " There are several ways wherein the mind is possessed of 
 truth, each of which is called knowledge." 
 
 " 1. There is Actual knowledge, which is the present view 
 the mind has of the agreement or disagreement of any of its 
 ideas, or of the relation they have to one another." 
 
 " 2. A man is said to know any proposition, which having 
 been once laid before his thoughts, he evidently perceived the 
 agreement or disagreement of the ideas whereof it consists, 
 and so lodged it in his memory, that whenever that proposi- 
 tion comes again to be reflected on, he without doubt or hesi- 
 tation, embraces the right side, assents to, and is certain of 
 the truth of it. This, I think, may be called Habitual know- 
 ledge. Our finite understandings being able to think clearly 
 and distinctly but on one thing at once, if men had no know- 
 ledge of any more, than what they actually thought on, they 
 would all be very ignorant ; and he that knew most, would 
 know but one truth, that being all he was able to think on at 
 one time." 
 
 " Of habitual knowledge there are also, vulgarly speaking, 
 two degrees." 
 
 " First. The one is of such truths laid up in the memory, 
 whereof we have an intuitive knowledge." 
 
 " Secondly, The other is of such truths, whereof the 
 mind having been convinced, it retains the memory of the 
 conviction without the proofs. Thus, a man that remembers 
 certainly, that he once perceived the demonstration, that the 
 three angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones, is certain 
 that he knows it, because he cannot doubt of the truth of it. 
 He remembers, i. e. he knows (for remembrance is but the re- 
 viving of some past knowledge) that he was once certain of 
 the truth of that proposition. The immutability of the same 
 relations, between the same immutable things, is now the idea 
 that shews him, that if the three angles of a triangle were 
 
89 
 
 once equal to two right ones, they will always be equal to two 
 right ones. And hence he comes to be certain, that what 
 was once true in the case, is always true ; what ideas once 
 agreed, will always agree ; and consequently, what he once 
 knew to be true, he will always know to be true, as long as he 
 can remember that he once knew it. Upon this ground it is, 
 that particular demonstrations in mathematics afford general 
 knowledge. If then the perception, that the same ideas will 
 eternally have the same habitudes and relations, be not a suf- 
 ficient ground of knowledge, there could be no knowledge of 
 general propositions in mathematics. But nobody, I think, 
 can deny, that Mr. Newton certainly knows any proposition 
 that he now at any time reads in his book to be true, though 
 he has not in actual view the admirable chain of intermediate 
 ideas, whereby he at first discovered it to be true. Such a 
 memory as that, able to retain such a train of particulars, may 
 be well thought beyond the reach of human faculties ; when 
 the very discovery, perception, and laying together that won- 
 derful connexion of ideas, is found to surpass most readers' 
 comprehension. But, because the memory is not always so 
 clear as actual perception, and does in all men more or less 
 decay in length of time; this, amongst other differences is 
 one, which shews that demonstrative knowledge is much more 
 imperfect than intuitive." 
 
 Truth, Error. 
 
 Truth, we apprehend, to be the conformity of our ideas to 
 the real nature of things, both intellectual and physical, ex- 
 pressed in such terms as we usually annex to those ideas : it 
 is true, for example, that a lion is, in many respects, unlike 
 a serpent ; that man recollects some past events ; that time 
 elapses ; that a radius is less than the diameter ; that two and 
 two make four ; that a square is not a circle, &c. We call 
 
90 
 
 this Truth, because it is the conformity of our ideas to the 
 very being of things themselves. 
 
 The supposing things to be different from what they really 
 are is error ; but, which of our opinions are just, and which 
 erroneous ; or in other words, which are conformable to truth, 
 and which are founded in error, general and continual experi- 
 ence can alone determine. " Error is not a fault of our 
 knowledge, but a mistake of our judgment, giving assent to 
 that which is not true." 
 
 Mutable, Immutable Truth. 
 
 There appear to be what we may perhaps, properly enough 
 call Mutable and Immutable Truths. It is an immutable 
 truth (supposing no miracle) that a live elephant is bigger than 
 a mouse ; that equal numbers added together cannot make an 
 odd one. The truth seems to be no less immutable, that a 
 man of sound organization is capable of receiving impressions 
 from without by his several senses, and of entertaining thoughts 
 within. That he is fitted to perceive, discern, judge, reason, 
 &c. impelled to action by desire, love and hatred, hope and 
 fear, conscience, &c. disposed to be ambitious, proud, vain, 
 &c. to the degree to which his character and circumstances urge 
 him, and inclined to be angry, resentful, forgiving, jealous, &c. 
 That he sometimes restrains, and sometimes indulges his de- 
 sires ; that he is sometimes inclined to virtue, and sometimes to 
 vice, &c. &c. But, it is a very Mutable Truth, that the inha- 
 bitants of a certain country are remarkably barbarous or civi- 
 lized, simple or luxurious, virtuous or vicious, handsome or 
 ugly, brave or cowardly, &c. Man himself must be diffe- 
 rently framed, before certain ideas of him, which we entertain, 
 can be changed, and likewise every sort of animal, vegetable, 
 and substance ; but our ideas of them altogether may conti- 
 nually differ, as new powers, qualities, and propensities, are 
 discovered in them. Seeing the wonders that chemists have 
 
91 
 
 lately brought to light, it would be perhaps rash to assert, as 
 an immutable truth, that atmospheric air is indispensable to 
 the continuance of human life. 
 
 Moral Truth) Falsehood. 
 
 Moral Truth is the speaking of things according to the 
 persuasion of our minds, though such persuasion agree not 
 with the reality of things, or as we say, is contrary to fact ; 
 e. g. the affirmation, that such a man is good, may be true as 
 far as regards the speaker's veracity, being according to his 
 belief, and yet be false in fact ; for Falsehood is the utter- 
 ing of words contrary to the persuasion of our minds. If a 
 man would persuade another to receive for truth an unsound 
 doctrine, which he himself believes to be sound, he unconsci- 
 ously leads, or would] lead him into error, but if he wish to 
 impose upon him for Truth, the belief of that which he knows 
 to be an error, he is in such case absolutely guilty of False- 
 hood. 
 
 Belief, Opinion, Probability, Certainty, Doubt. 
 
 " Probability is likeliness to be true; the very notation 
 of the word signifying such a proposition, for which there 
 be arguments or proofs to make it pass or be received for 
 true. The entertainment the mind gives this sort of proposi- 
 tions, is called Belief, or Opinion, which is the admitting or 
 receiving any proposition for true, upon arguments or proofs 
 that are found to persuade us to receive it as true, without 
 certain knowledge that it is so. And, herein lies the diffe- 
 rence between probability and certainty, faith and knowledge, 
 that in all the parts of knowledge there is intuition ; each im- 
 mediate idea, each step has its visible and certain connexion ; 
 in belief not so." 
 
 " The grounds of probability are these two following : First, 
 
92 
 
 the conformity of any thing with our own knowledge, observa- 
 tion, and experience." 
 
 " Secondly, the testimony of others, vouching their observa- 
 tion and experience. In the testimony of others is to be con- 
 sidered : 1. The number. 2. The integrity. 3. The skill 
 of the witnesses. 4. The design of the author out of a book 
 cited. 5. The consistency of the parts and circumstances of 
 the relation. 6. Contrary testimonies." 
 
 " Probability wanting that intuitive evidence which infalli- 
 bly determines the understanding, and produces certain know- 
 ledge ; the mind, if it would proceed rationally, ought to exa- 
 mine all the grounds of probability, and see how they make 
 more or less, for or against any proposition, before it assents 
 to, or dissents from it, and, upon a due balancing of the whole, 
 reject or receive it with a Vnore or less firm assent, in propor- 
 tion to the preponderancy of the greater grounds of probability 
 on one side or the other." 
 
 " If I see a man walk on the ice, it is past probability, it is 
 knowledge ; but, if another tells me, he saw a man in Russia 
 skating during a sharp winter, this has so great conformity 
 with what I have usually observed to happen, that I am dis- 
 posed by the nature of the thing to credit or believe it. If, 
 however, the same thing be told to one, born between the 
 tropics, who never saw nor heard of any such thing before, 
 there the whole probability relies on testimony. In this case, 
 as the relators are more' in number, and of more credit, and 
 have no interest to speak contrary to the truth, so that matter 
 of fact is like to find more or less belief. Though to a man, 
 whose experience has been always quite contrary, the most 
 untainted credit of a witness will scarce prevail, as it hap- 
 pened to a Dutch ambassador, who, upon speaking to the 
 king of Siam of the canals in Holland, being at times frozen 
 so hard as to bear a weight equal to that of an elephant, 
 was answered, Hitherto I have believed the strange things you 
 
93 
 
 have told me, because I looked upon you as a sober, fair man, 
 but now I am sure you lie" 
 
 " If one minute since, I saw a man existing, but have now 
 lost sight of him, I cannot be certain that the same man is 
 still in existence, since there is no necessary connexion of his 
 existence a minute since, with his existence now. By a thou- 
 sand ways he may have ceased to be, since I had the testi- 
 mony of my senses for his existence. And if I cannot be cer- 
 tain, that the man I last saw to-day, is now in being, I can yet 
 less be sure that he is so, who hath been longer removed from 
 my senses, and still less of the existence of men I never 
 saw. Though it be highly probable, therefore, that millions of 
 men do now exist, yet, whilst I am alone writing this, I have 
 not that certainty of it, we strictly call knowledge, but the great 
 likelihood of it puts me past doubt, and makes it reason- 
 able for me to do several things, upon the confidence that 
 there are men, and men also of my acquaintance, with whom I 
 have to do now in the world, but this is but Probability, not 
 knowledge." 
 
 " Certainty implies the non-existence of doubt, as doubt 
 does of the non-existence of certainty. Thus the mind has 
 two faculties conversant about truth and error." 
 
 " Knowledge, whereby it certainly perceives, and is un- 
 doubtedly satisfied of the agreement or disagreement of any 
 ideas." 
 
 " Judgment, which is the putting ideas together, or sepa- 
 rating them from one another in the mind, when their certain 
 agreement or disagreement is not perceived, but presumed to 
 be so, which is, as the word imports, taken to be so before it 
 certainly appears. And, if it so unites and separates them, as 
 in reality things are, it is right judgment, otherwise wrong 
 judgment or error. 
 
 Conjecture. 
 
 Conjecture expresses the operation of the mind, while 
 
94 
 
 searching for reasons to determine it to entertain certain opi- 
 nions or not, upon any subject whatsoever. 
 
 Assent, Dissent. 
 
 " Assent is the determination of the judgment in favour of 
 an opinion. Dissent, its determination against it. The mind 
 Assents or Dissents to propositions, the truth or falsehood of 
 which it presumes, but cannot feel assured of. But if assent 
 be grounded on likelihood, if the proper object and motive of 
 our assent be probability, how happens it, that men come to 
 give their assents, contrary to probability ? For there is no- 
 thing more common, than contrariety of opinion, nothing more 
 obvious, than that one man wholly disbelieves what another 
 only doubts of, and a third stedfastly believes and firmly ad- 
 heres to. The reasons whereof, though they may be very 
 various, yet I suppose, may all be reduced to these" 
 
 1. Want of proofs. 
 
 2. Want of ability to use them. 
 
 3. Want of will to use them. 
 
 4. Wrong measures of probability. 
 
 " First, by want of proofs, I do not mean the want of those 
 proofs only, which are no where extant, and so are no where 
 to be had ; but the want of those proofs which are in being, 
 or might be procured. And thus men want proofs, who have 
 not the convenience or opportunity to make experiments and 
 observations themselves, tending to the proof of any proposi- 
 tion ; nor likewise the convenience to inquire into, and collect 
 the testimonies of others ; and in this state, are the greatest 
 part of mankind, who are given up to labour. Thus vast 
 numbers are, by the natural and unalterable state of things in 
 this world, and the constitution of human affairs, unavoidably 
 given over to invincible ignorance of those proofs, on which 
 
95 
 
 others build, and which are necessary to establish their opi- 
 nions." 
 
 " Secondly, Such as want strength of understanding, or skill 
 to use those evidences they have of probabilities, who cannot 
 carry a train of consequences in their head, nor weigh exactly 
 the preponderancy of contrary proofs and testimonies, making 
 every circumstance its due allowance, may be easily misled to 
 adopt propositions that are not probable." 
 
 " Thirdly, There is another sort of people who want proofs, 
 not because they are out of their reach, but because they will 
 not use them; who, though they have riches and leisure 
 enough, and are not deficient in parts, are yet never the better 
 for them. Their hot pursuit of pleasure, or constant drudgery 
 in business, engages some men's thoughts elsewhere ; laziness 
 and oscitancy in general, or a particular aversion from books, 
 study, and meditation, keep others from serious thoughts at 
 all ; and some out of fear, that an impartial inquiry would not 
 favour those opinions, which best suit their prejudices, lives, 
 and designs, content themselves without examination, to take 
 upon trust, what they find convenient and in fashion. But 
 this at least, is worth the consideration of those who call 
 themselves gentlemen, that however they may think credit, 
 respect, power, and authority, the concomitants of their birth 
 and fortune, yet they will find all these carried away from 
 them by men of lower condition, who surpass them in know- 
 ledge. They who are blind will always be led by those that 
 see, or fall into the ditch ; and he is certainly the most sub- 
 jected, the most enslaved, who is so in his understanding." 
 
 " Fourthly, There remains yet the last sort, Those who even 
 where the real probabilities appear, and are plainly laid before 
 them, do not admit of the conviction, nor yield unto manifest 
 reasons, but do either suspend their assent, or give it to the less 
 probable opinion ; and to this danger are exposed those, who 
 have taken up wrong measures of probability, which are," 
 
96 
 
 " 1. Propositions that are not in themselves certain and evi- 
 dent, but doubtful and false, taken up for principles, also 
 received hypotheses." 
 
 2. Predominant passions or inclinations. 
 
 3. Authority. 
 
 '' The first and firmest ground of probability, is the con- 
 formity any thing has to our own knowledge, especially that 
 part of our knowledge which we have embraced, and continue 
 to look on as principles. These have so great an influence 
 upon our opinions, that it is usually by them we judge of truth, 
 and measure probability to that degree, that what is inconsistent 
 with our principles, is so far from passing for probable with 
 us, that it will not be allowed possible. The reverence borne 
 to these principles is so great, and their authority so para- 
 mount to all other, that the testimony not only of other men, 
 but the evidence of our own senses are often rejected, when 
 they offer to vouch any thing contrary to those established 
 rules. Every one ought therefore, carefully to beware what 
 he admits for a principle, to examine it strictly, and see whe- 
 ther he certainly knows it to be true of itself by its own evi- 
 dence, or whether he does only with assurance believe it to be 
 so upon the authority of others. The belief of transubstan- 
 tiation will, for instance, cause a Romanist to take that for 
 flesh which he actually sees to be bread." 
 
 " Whoever, therefore, has imbibed wrong principles, is 
 not, in things inconsistent with these principles, to be moved 
 by the most apparent and convincing probabilities, till he 
 is so candid and ingenuous to himself, as to be persuaded 
 to examine those said principles, but this many never suffer 
 themselves to do. With such staunch supporters of esta- 
 blished principles and received hypotheses, all the arguments 
 that can be used, will be as little able to prevail, as the wind 
 did with the traveller to part with his cloak, which he held 
 only the faster." 
 
97 
 
 " Secondly, Probabilities which cross men's appetites, and 
 prevailing passions, run the same fate. Tell a man passion- 
 ately in love that he is jilted, bring a score of witnesses of the 
 falsehood of his mistress, it is ten to one, but three kind words 
 of her's, shall invalidate all their testimonies. What suits our 
 wishes is forwardly believed, is, I suppose, what every one 
 hath more than once experimented ; and though men cannot 
 always openly gainsay or resist the force of manifest proba- 
 bilities that make against them, yet yield they not to the argu- 
 ment. Not, but that it is the nature of the understanding, 
 constantly to close with the more probable side; still a man 
 hath a power to suspend and restrain its inquiries, and not 
 permit a full and satisfactory examination as far as the matter 
 in question is capable, and will bear it to be made. But until 
 this be done, there will be always these two ways left of evad- 
 ing the most apparent probabilities, that the arguments being, 
 (as for the most part they are) brought in words, there may 
 be a fallacy latent in them ; and the consequences being, per- 
 haps, many in train, they may be some of them incoherent. 
 There are very few discourses so short, clear, and consistent, 
 to which most men may not, with satisfaction enough to them- 
 selves, raise this doubt, and from whose conviction they may 
 not, without reproach of disingenuousness, or unreasonableness, 
 set themselves free with the old reply, Though I cannot answer, 
 I will not yield. Manifest probabilities may be evaded, and 
 the assent withheld, upon this suggestion, That I know not 
 yet all that may be said on the contrary side, and therefore 
 though I be beaten, it is not necessary I should yield, not 
 knowing what forces are in reserve behind. This is a refuge 
 against conviction so open and so wide, that it is hard to de- 
 termine when a man is quite out of the verge of it." 
 
 " But yet there is some end of it; for a man having carefully 
 inquired into all the grounds of probability and unlikeliness, 
 having done his utmost to inform himself in all particulars 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 fairly, and cast up the sum total on both sides, he may in most 
 cases come to a knowledge upon the whole matter on which 
 side the probability rests, wherein some of the proofs which 
 reason offers being suppositions upon universal experience, 
 so cogent and clear, and some of the testimonies in matter of 
 fact so universal, he cannot refuse his assent." 
 
 " Thirdly, the fourth and last wrong measure of probability I 
 shall take notice of, and which keeps in ignorance or error 
 more people than all the others together, is the giving up our 
 assent to the commonly received opinions, either of our friends 
 or party, neighbourhood or country. How many men have 
 no other ground for their tenets than the supposed honesty 
 or learning, or number of those of their profession ; as if ho- 
 nest or bookish men could not err, or truth were to be esta- 
 blished by the votes of the multitude ; yet this with most men 
 serves the turn. The tenet has had the attestation of reve- 
 rend antiquity ; it comes to me with the passport of former 
 ages, and therefore I am secure in the reception I give it ; 
 other men have been, and are of the same opinion (for that is 
 all that is said), and therefore it is reasonable for me to em- 
 brace it. A man may more justifiably throw up cross and pile 
 for his opinions than take them up by such measures. All men 
 are liable to error, and most men are in many points, by pas- 
 sion or interest, under temptation to it. If we could but see 
 the secret motives that influenced the men of name and learn- 
 ing in the world and the leaders of parties, we should not 
 always find, that it was the embracing of truth, for its own 
 sake, that made them espouse the doctrines they owned and 
 maintained. This at least is certain, there is not an opinion so 
 absurd which a man may not receive upon this ground. There 
 is no error to be named which has not had its professors, and 
 a man will never want crooked paths to walk in, if he thinks 
 he is in the right way, wherever he has the footsteps of others 
 to follow." 
 
99 
 
 Concatenation of Ideas. 
 
 The perception of certain ideas we find apt to excite others 
 in our minds, and to lead us on from one reflection to another, 
 sometimes in regular train, sometimes with strange aberrations. 
 The idea of time, for instance, seems of itself calculated directly 
 to awaken in us the recollection of the progress we have made 
 in life, this progress of our approach to dissolution, and our dis- 
 solution of the final retribution that awaits us. But upon the civil 
 war, in the time of Charles I. being mentioned, some one, says 
 Hobbes, abruptly asked, What was the value of a Roman pen- 
 ny ? " The thought of the war introduced the thought of the 
 king being delivered up to his enemies, the thought of that the 
 delivering up of Christ, that again the thought of the thirty 
 pence, which was the price of that treason." Both these ex- 
 amples come under the head Concatenation of Ideas. 
 
 Association of Ideas. 
 
 " The ideas, which have a natural correspondence and con- 
 nexion one with another, it is the office and excellency of our 
 reason to trace and hold together in that union and corre- 
 spondence, which is founded in their peculiar beings; but 
 there is another connexion of ideas wholly owing to chance or 
 habit ideas, that in themselves are not at all of kin, come to 
 be so connected in some men's minds, that it is very difficult 
 to disunite them ; they ever keep in company, and the one no 
 sooner, at any time, comes into the understanding, but its as- 
 sociate appears with it ; and, if there be more than two that 
 are thus connected, the whole gang, always inseparable, shew 
 themselves together. A musician used to any tune will find, 
 that let it but once begin in his head, and the ideas of the 
 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 several notes of it will follow one another in his mind, without 
 any care or attention, as orderly as his fingers move over the 
 keys of an organ, to play out the tune he has begun, though 
 his inattentive thoughts be elsewhere a wandering." 
 
 " This strong combination of ideas, not allied by nature, 
 the mind makes in itself, either voluntarily or by chance ; and 
 hence it varies in different men according to their different in- 
 clinations, education, interests, &c. Habit settles modes of 
 thinking in the understanding, as it does of motion in the 
 body." 
 
 " Those who have children, or the charge of their educa- 
 tion, ought diligently to watch, and carefully to prevent, the 
 undue connexion of ideas in their minds. Youth is the time 
 most susceptible of lasting impressions, and though such as 
 relate to the health of the body are, by discreet people, com- 
 monly minded and fenced against, yet I am apt to doubt, that 
 those which more peculiarly concern the mind, and terminate 
 in the understanding or passions, have, though of such vast 
 importance, been often entirely overlooked." 
 
 " This wrong connexion in our minds, of ideas in them- 
 selves loose and independent of one another, has such an 
 influence over our actions, as well moral as natural, our rea- 
 sonings and notions, that perhaps there is not any one thing 
 which deserves a more serious consideration." 
 
 " The ideas of goblins and sprites have really no more to 
 do with darkness than with light; should a foolish maid, how- 
 ever, inculcate these often on the mind of a child, and raise 
 them there together, possibly he shall never be able to sepa- 
 rate them again as long as he lives, but darkness will ever af- 
 terwards bring with it those frightful ideas. If a man has 
 suffered pain or sickness in such a place, if he saw his friend 
 die in such a room, though the circumstances and places have 
 not in nature any thing to do one with the other, yet when 
 the idea of the place occurs to his mind, it brings (the impres- 
 
101 
 
 sion being once made) that of the pain and displeasure with 
 it, and he confounds them together in his mind." 
 
 " When this combination is settled, and while it lasts, it is not 
 often in the power of reason to help us, and relieve us from the 
 effects of it. Ideas in our minds, when they are there, will ope- 
 rate according to their natures and to circumstances ; and here 
 we see the cause why time cures certain affections when reason, 
 though in the right, and allowed to be so, has not power to 
 prevail, even with those who are apt to hearken to it in other 
 cases. The death of a child, who was the daily delight of his 
 mother's eyes and the joy of her soul, rends from her heart 
 one of the great comforts of her life and gives her all the tor- 
 ment imaginable. Use the consolations of reason in this case, 
 and you might as effectually preach ease to one on the rack, 
 or hope to allay by rational discourse the pain of his tortured 
 joints. Till time has by disuse separated the sense of the en- 
 joyment and its loss, that are united in her memory, from the 
 idea of the child, all representations, though ever so reasona- 
 ble, are vain ; and therefore some in whom the union between 
 these ideas is never dissolved, spend their lives in mourning, 
 and carry an incurable sorrow to their graves." 
 
 " There are rooms convenient enough that some men can- 
 not study in, and fashions of vessels which, though ever so 
 clean and commodious, they cannot drink out of; and that by 
 reason of some accidental association of ideas which are an- 
 nexed to them, and make them offensive." 
 
 " Some such wrong combinations of ideas will be found to 
 establish the irreconcileable opposition between two different 
 sects of philosophy or religion, for we cannot imagine every one 
 of their followers wilfully to impose on himself, and know- 
 ingly refuse truth offered by plain reason. Interest, though it 
 does a great deal in the case, yet cannot be thought to work whole 
 societies of men to so universal a perverseness, as that every 
 
102 
 
 one of them to a man should knowingly maintain falsehood ; 
 some at least must be allowed to do what all pretend to, i. e. 
 to pursue truth sincerely ; and therefore there must be some- 
 thing that blinds their understandings, and prevents their see- 
 ing the falsehood of what they embrace for real truth. That 
 which thus captivates their reason, and leads men of sincerity 
 blindfold from common sense, will, when examined, be found 
 to be what we are speaking of, some independent ideas, 
 of no alliance to one another, have been by education, habit, 
 and the constant din of their party, so coupled in their minds 
 that they always appear there together, and they can no more 
 separate them in their thoughts than if they were but one 
 idea, and they operate as if they were so. This gives sense 
 to jargon, demonstration to absurdities, and consistency to 
 nonsense, and is the foundation of the greatest number, I had 
 almost said of all the errors in the world, or if it does not reach 
 so far, it is at least the most dangerous one ; since, so far as it 
 obtains, it hinders men from seeing and examining. This, 
 while they are under the deceit of it, makes them incapable 
 of conviction, and they applaud themselves as zealous cham- 
 pions for truth, when in fact they are contending for errors ; 
 and the confusion of two different ideas, which a customary 
 connexion in their minds hath to them made in effect but one, 
 fills their heads with false views, and their reasonings with 
 false consequences. How often one with amazement hears the 
 arguments, and is astonished at the obstinacy of a worthy 
 man, who yields not to the evidence of reason, though laid be^ 
 fore him as clear as daylight." 
 
 The association of ideas; it is evident, serves infinitely to 
 modify both our pleasures and pains, and thus it is that intel- 
 ligent and enlightened minds often view nature with emotions 
 either elevating, soothing, melancholy, or painful, peculiar to 
 themselves. A bright sun, 
 
103 
 
 " When first on this delightful land he spreads 
 His orient beams, on herb, tre, fruit, and flow'r, 
 Glist'ring with dew," 
 
 may give a buoyancy of spirits to any one, and excite in him 
 a present high enjoyment of his existence ; but the association 
 of ideas imparts other inexpressible charms to such a scene. 
 By this operation of the mind the spring recals to man the 
 lively feelings, blooming appearance, and bright hopes of youth, 
 and the autumn awakens in him contemplations of an opposite 
 character. What power too has music to conjure up asso- 
 ciations long since made by the mind ! 
 
 Mr. Locke observes, that madmen commonly join ideas to- 
 gether very wrongly, that they are kings, astronomers, &c. 
 but that they act quite suitably to such strange conceits so 
 fearfully and wonderfully are we made ! 
 
104 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Pleasure and Pain. Love and Hatred. Hope and Fear, &c. 
 
 Pleasure and Pain. 
 
 " DELIGHT or uneasiness, one or other of them, join them- 
 selves to almost all our ideas, and there is scarce any affection 
 of our senses from without, any retired thought of our mind 
 within, which is not capable of producing in us either Pleasure 
 or Pain. The infinite wise Author of our being has given us 
 command over several parts of our bodies, to move or keep them 
 at rest as we think fit ; and also by the motion of them to 
 move ourselves and other contiguous bodies. He has also 
 endowed the mind with a power frequently to chuse amongst 
 its ideas which it will think on, and to pursue the inquiry of 
 this or that subject with consideration and attention; and, 
 in order to excite us to these two actions of thinking and mo- 
 tion, he has been pleased to annex to several objects, and the 
 ideas we receive from them, as also to several of our thoughts, 
 a concomitant pleasure, and that in several objects to several 
 degrees. If this perception of delight were wholly separated 
 from all our outward sensations and inward thoughts, we should 
 have no reason to prefer one thought or action to another, 
 negligence to attention, motion to rest ; and so we should nei- 
 ther stir our bodies nor employ our minds, but let our 
 thoughts, if we may so call it, run adrift without any direc- 
 
105 
 
 tion or design, and suffer the ideas of our minds, like un- 
 regarded shadows, to make their appearance there without 
 attending to them. In which state man, however furnished 
 with the faculties of understanding and will, would be a 
 very idle, inactive creature, and pass his time in a lazy, lethar- 
 gic dream. Pain has the same efficacy and use to set us on 
 work that pleasure has, we being as ready to employ our 
 faculties to avoid that as to pursue this." 
 
 Love and Hatred. 
 
 " Any one reflecting upon the thought he has of the de- 
 light which any present or absent thing is apt to produce in 
 him, has the idea we call Love. On the contrary, the thought 
 of the pain which any thing present or absent is apt to pro- 
 duce in us, is that we call Hatred. 
 
 " Our love or hatred of inanimate insensible beings is com- 
 monly founded on that pleasure and pain, which we receive 
 from their use and application any way to our senses, though 
 with their destruction : but hatred or love, towards beings ca- 
 pable of happiness or misery, is often the uneasiness or de- 
 light, which we find in ourselves arising from a consideration 
 of their very being or happiness. Thus the being and wel- 
 fare of a man's children or friends producing constant delight 
 in him, whenever he reflects upon it, he is said constantly to 
 love them." 
 
 Joy and Sorrow. 
 
 " Joy is a delight of the mind, arising from the consideration 
 of the present or assured approaching possession of a good ; 
 and we are possessed of any good when we have it so in our 
 power that we can use it when we please. Thus a man almost 
 starved has joy at the arrival of relief, even , before he has 
 
106 
 
 the pleasure of using it ; and a father, in whom the very well- 
 being of his children causes delight, is always, as long as his 
 children are in such a state, in the possession of that good ; 
 for he need but to reflect on it to have that pleasure." 
 
 " Sorrow is uneasiness of the mind upon the thought of a 
 good lost which might have been longer enjoyed, or the sense 
 of a present evil." 
 
 Sympathy causes us to feel joy in beholding the happiness 
 of others, or sorrow in witnessing the uneasiness they suffer. 
 
 Apathy. 
 
 Apathy expresses the absence of all emotion upon such oc- 
 casions as commonly more or less affect men, either agreeably 
 or otherwise. 
 
 Hope, Fear, 
 
 " Hope is that pleasure in the mind which every one finds in 
 himself, upon the thought of a probable future enjoyment of a 
 thing which is apt to delight him." 
 
 Fear, an emotion arising from the anticipation of any sort 
 of evil we think likely to befal us. 
 
 We may hope or fear the consequences of any thing we do, 
 or that is done to us ; or the natural course of events, or the 
 result of men's actions in general, or the effects of chance. 
 
 Hope and fear seem to have been implanted in us, not only 
 to excite us continually to action, but also to induce us to sub- 
 mit to present pain, or to relinquish present pleasures, when 
 by so doing we are likely to secure any future advantages, or to 
 avoid any future evils. 
 
 Reasonable hopes are founded upon our confidence in Su- 
 preme Goodness, and upon our knowledge of men and things, 
 so that we may justly reckon upon the degree of probability 
 
107 
 
 there is, that the measures we pursue will be attended with 
 the result we desire, or that circumstances may prove favourable 
 to our wishes. Such hopes are well calculated to inspire 
 cheerfulness, and to soothe the anxious mind during its pro- 
 gress through this feverish life. 
 
 " The most vital movement mortals feel 
 
 Is Hope, the balm and life-blood of the soul : 
 It pleases and it lasts : indulgent Heav'n 
 Sent down the kind delusion through the paths 
 Of rugged life, to lead us patient on, 
 And make our happiest state no tedious thing ; 
 Our greatest good, and what we least can spare, 
 Is Hope." Armstrong. 
 
 But those who are continually entertaining idle hopes, t . e. 
 such as do not rest upon reasonable probability, prepare only 
 repeated disappointments for themselves ; and persons of this 
 description are very apt to build their expectations upon 
 chance, instead of depending upon their own prudence and 
 industry, which might very possibly obtain for them the ad- 
 vantages they are so anxious to possess. 
 
 Reasonable fears induce the prudent to provide carefully for 
 the future, and to guard themselves against the common acci- 
 dents of life; but the fearful are continually in dread, of even 
 improbable casualties thus we say, groundless fears. 
 
 " Some for fear of want 
 
 Want all their lives ; and others ev'ry day, 
 For fear of dying, suffer worse than death. 
 Ah ! from your bosoms banish if you can 
 That fatal guest, I mean the demon Fear 
 That trembles at impossible events, 
 Lest aged Atlas should resign his load, 
 And Heav'n's eternal battlements rush down. 
 Is there an evil worse than fear itself? 
 And what avails it, that indulgent Heav'n 
 From mortal eyes has wrapt the woes to come 
 If we, ingenious to torment ourselves, 
 
108 
 
 Grow pale at hideous fictions of our own. 
 
 Enjoy the present, nor with needless cares 
 
 Of what may spring from blind Misfortune's womb, 
 
 Appal the surest hour that life bestows ; 
 
 Serene and master of yourself, prepare 
 
 For what may come, and leave the rest to Heav'n." Armstrong. 
 
 Children are, with great difficulty, induced to sacrifice pre- 
 sent, to the hope of future pleasure, even when of near prospect. 
 As to the past, it is with them literally, " the tear forgot as 
 soon as shed." Most children are fearful, but never any of 
 them apprehensive about possible distant evils. 
 
 Youth, not childhood, is the season, when buoyed up, and 
 carried along by Hope, we eagerly " bid the lovely scenes at 
 distance hail." Youth reverts little to the past, feels mis- 
 fortunes acutely, but seldom either dwells long upon, or anti- 
 cipates them. 
 
 In middle age our hopes begin perhaps, to be less san- 
 guine and our fears more lively; and we are strongly instigated 
 to action, not only to secure ourselves the goods, but also to 
 avert the evils of life. 
 
 Both hopes and fears become more and more languid as 
 time advances, and, in the decline of years, we dwell tenaci- 
 ously "upon the memory of joys that are past," often imputing 
 the little interest we comparatively take, either in the present 
 or the future, not to our feelings being more obtuse, but to 
 unfavourable changes in things themselves. 
 
 It seems the part of wisdom to provide against future evils, 
 but that done, to enjoy during the present moment every sort 
 of blessing we can conscientiously command ; and, to reflect 
 upon the past principally, in order to profit by experience, so 
 as to obtain future good, and to avoid repeating former mistakes. 
 This is an advantage time offers us, in lieu of the successive 
 sacrifices he exacts from us, and, we may thus avoid the re- 
 newing of many pains, and safely indulge ourselves in nume- 
 rous pleasant recollections. 
 
109 
 
 Hope and Fear are the two powerful engines by which 
 man is ruled from the cradle to the grave. 
 
 Anticipation. 
 
 We are all of us more or less prone to anticipate pleasures 
 or pains, i. e. in fact, to hope or fear them. Anticipation is 
 the enjoyment of pleasure before hand by thought, or the en- 
 during of pain in the same manner ; and, if it cause us to suf- 
 fer prematurely, so does it also bring within our immediate view 
 more or less distant pleasures. 
 
 Provident) Improvident. 
 
 Our hopes and our fears both dispose us to be Provident, in 
 order to secure ourselves good, and to guard ourselves against 
 evil, and consequently to prevent our losing the one, or in- 
 curring the other. The wise and prudent are provident, be- 
 cause they perceive, that the general welfare of man depends 
 greatly upon his own care and exertions. The Improvident 
 look not beyond the present moment. 
 
 Expectation) Disappointment. 
 
 Expectation implies the mind being under the persuasion, 
 that some particular circumstance is likely to occur. Disap- 
 pointment expresses the loss of hope more or less earnestly en- 
 tertained. If, for instance, a man sow an abundance of fine 
 corn, he hopes, yet fears, he may not reap a plentiful harvest, 
 but, is disappointed upon the actual appearance of a scanty 
 
 crop. 
 
 To Tantalize. 
 
 Some persons are more or less disposed, and in various 
 ways, to tantalize others, i. e. to excite hope with intent to dis- 
 appoint them. 
 
 iSurprise } Astonishment ', Wonder. 
 
 The mind experiences surprise, wonder, astonishment, upon 
 
110 
 
 the obtaining of any thing wished for or desired, but not 
 hoped for; or upon getting any thing either acceptable or 
 otherwise, that was neither wished for, nor hoped for. We 
 may wish for a large fortune, though we cannot reasonably 
 either expect or hope for it ; and may be surprised, or feel 
 wonder and astonishment, at receiving a bequest from a 
 stranger, or at being disinherited. We also feel surprise, &c. 
 upon hearing of any circumstance, occurring contrary to our 
 general or individual experience, or of any phenomena, the 
 existence of which we had not suspected. 
 
 To be Shocked. 
 
 The mind is shocked by the sudden excitement of great 
 fear, or the suppression of anxious hope, by the discovery 
 for instance, that our house is on fire, or that a speculation 
 has failed. We are shocked also by any unexpected and 
 heavy calamities befalling those any way connected with us, or 
 to any person whatsoever, or at any remarkable instance of 
 human depravity, &c. 
 
 Anxious, Solicitous, Sanguine. 
 
 Those in whom fear is apt to predominate, are commonly 
 the most Anxious respecting future events. Such persons 
 are generally prudent, being seldom deluded by present ap- 
 pearances ; whereas, the Sanguine are ever disposed to over- 
 look threatening evils, and to magnify probable advantages. 
 The anxious often suffer unnecessarily ; for many of their ap- 
 prehensions prove groundless, and fortunate circumstances 
 not unfrequently occur, to prevent very probable evils. The 
 sanguine, on the other hand, are too much given to despise 
 the warnings of experience, and are thus often overtaken by 
 misfortunes they might by timely precaution have more or 
 less easily averted. We perceive therefore, that a moderate 
 degree of anxiety serves to protect us from many evils ; and, 
 
Ill 
 
 that reasonably sanguine hopes lead us to anticipate many en- 
 joyments, and thus to increase and prolong our pleasures in 
 
 life. 
 
 Apprehension, Disquietude, Trouble, Care. 
 
 The past, the present, and the future, all dispose us to feel 
 apprehension, disquietude, trouble, and care; the past by 
 exciting in us fears for consequences that may serve to embit- 
 ter our future moments. 
 
 Alarm, Fright, Terror. 
 
 The more or less lively fear, of immediate or remote danger, 
 disposes the mind to be alarmed, frightened, terrified. 
 
 Discreet, Circumspect, Indiscreet. 
 
 Upon becoming better acquainted with the world, we feel 
 disposed to be more guarded in our language, looks, manners, 
 and general demeanour ; in other words, to be discreet and 
 circumspect from the fear of laying ourselves open to misre- 
 presentation and censure. 
 
 Cautious, Heedful, Wary, Watchful, Incautious, Heedless, 
 Negligent. 
 
 The cautious, wary, &c. earnestly endeavour to secure 
 the advantages they possess, and to shield themselves against 
 future dangers, because they always entertain some fear of 
 being involved in evil, either by the follies of the imprudent, 
 or the machinations of the designing. 
 
 Confidence, Trust, Reliance, Suspicion, Mistrust. 
 
 The knowledge of vice disposes us to be suspicious. Be- 
 fore vice was, suspicion could not be. The warnings of our 
 friends, our own evil thoughts, or the experience of evil from 
 others, causes us to regard men with a watchful eye ; and we 
 often justly mistrust the fairest appearances, and the most pro* 
 
112 
 
 mising language. The wise and prudent are shy of " dulling 
 their palm with entertainment of each new hatched, unfledged 
 comrade." Suspicion makes the vicious live in continual fear 
 of both provoked and unprovoked injuries. 
 
 The consciousness of virtue, and frequent experience, dis- 
 poses us to hope we may safely place confidence in our friends, 
 trust them with our concerns, and rely upon their good 
 offices. 
 
 Dejection, Despondency, Despair. 
 
 Dejection, we suppose, expresses that state of mind, that 
 disposes a man gloomily to support the evils imposed upon 
 him, without making an effort either to extricate himself from 
 them, or even to divert his thoughts from the contemplation of 
 his misfortunes, be they real or supposed. Such a person is 
 destitute both of hope and courage. 
 
 Despair is felt by him who has lost all hope, but such a 
 loss often serves only to raise the courage of some persons, 
 and to goad them " to do all that does become a man." But 
 despair is also apt to drive men to the most criminal excesses, 
 either against themselves, or others, and sometimes both. 
 
 Cheerful, Gay, Merry, Joyous, Jovial, Sad, Melancholy, 
 Gloomy. 
 
 More or less freedom from fear, arising either from cir- 
 cumstances or carelessness, disposes men to be gay, merry, 
 joyous, jovial, &c. A greater or less, or entire deprivation of 
 hope, inclines them to be sad, melancholy, gloomy. 
 
 To be Glad, to Rejoice, to Regret, Grieve, to be Afflicted. 
 
 The realization of hope, or the occurrence of unexpected 
 good, disposes us to be glad, to rejoice, &c. The entertain- 
 ing of fears, or the occurrence of unexpected evil, inclines us 
 to grieve, to be afflicted, &c. 
 
113 
 
 To Exult, Triumph. 
 
 Many men are disposed to exult or triumph, upon having 
 gained either any expected or unexpected advantage over 
 others, that seems to distinguish their superiority, or to give 
 
 them any. 
 
 Speculation. 
 
 Hope tempts men to engage in transactions, from which 
 they calculate upon deriving more or less advantage. The 
 proud, the ambitious, the covetous, people of all ranks and 
 characters, Speculate upon promoting their own interest or 
 wishes, or that of others, in a more or less direct or indirect, 
 or honest or dishonest way. 
 
 To Predict, Foretel, Prognosticate, Forewarn. 
 The idle entertainment of certain hopes and fears leads 
 some men with more or less credulity, to consult others upon 
 the probability of certain events occurring, and thus invite 
 them to predict, foretel, &c. General experience enables us 
 to predict the probable operations of nature both in the 
 intellectual and physical worlds, and the knowledge of men's 
 characters, their probable actions. 
 
114 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Self-love. Social Love. Sympathy, &c. 
 
 Self-Love, Selfishness. 
 
 SELF-LOVE expresses the universal interest we take in every 
 thing that concerns ourselves. It is the continual desire we 
 have of preserving our existence, of obtaining ease, pleasure, 
 and good ; of avoiding uneasiness, pain, and evil. Any thing 
 may affect our self-love, any thing that is fitted to excite in us 
 the very slightest degree of emotion in any manner whatso- 
 ever. Devoid of it, we should be utterly regardless of the 
 welfare, both of our souls and bodies. 
 
 " Self-Love is originally implanted by God himself in our 
 nature, in order to the preservation and enjoyment of our 
 being; the which is common to us with all creatures, and 
 cannot any wise be extirpated ; for no man (as St. Paul saith) 
 ever yet hated his own flesh, but nourisheth and cherisheth it: 
 every man living, by a natural and necessary instinct, is 
 prompted to guard his life, shunning all dangers threatening 
 its destruction, to purvey for the support and convenience of 
 it; to satisfy those natural appetites which importunately 
 crave relief, and without intolerable pain cannot be denied it ; 
 and to repel or decline whatever is very grievous, and offen- 
 sive to nature." 
 
 " God hath expressly commanded us to love all men, not 
 excluding ourselves from the number ; to love our neighbours 
 
115 
 
 and therefore ourselves, who of all are nearest to ourselves, 
 who occur as the first objects of humanity and charity ; whose 
 needs we most sensibly feel ; whose good is in itself no less 
 considerable, than the single good of any other person ; who 
 must first look to our own good, before we can be capable to 
 love others, or do any good to our neighbour." 
 
 " He doth enforce obedience to all his commands, by pro- 
 mising rewards, yielding immense profits, and transcendent 
 pleasure to us, and by threatening punishments grievous to 
 our sense ; which proceeding is grounded upon a supposition, 
 that we do and ought greatly to love ourselves, or to regard 
 our own interest and pleasure." 
 
 He doth recommend wisdom or virtue to us, as most agree- 
 able to self-love ; most eligible, because it yieldeth great benefit 
 to ourselves, because (as the wise man saith) " Tie that getteth 
 it doth love his own soul, he that keepeth it shall find good " 
 
 He dissuadeth from vice, as detestable to self-love, because 
 the embracing it doth imply hatred of ourselves, bringing 
 mischief and damage to us, because " he that sinneth t wrongeth 
 his own soul; he that despiseth instruction^ despiseth his own 
 soul; he that committeth injury, hateth his own soul" 
 
 " Aristotle saith of a virtuous man, that he is the greatest 
 self-lover." 
 
 We concur entirely both with Dr. Barrow and Aristotle, 
 that a virtuous man does what is most agreeable to self-love, 
 i. e. provided that his virtue is conformable to the dictates of 
 sound reason, otherwise he may cany on continual war against 
 it. Many a fanatic, for instance, seems to prove himself no 
 self-lover, for he continually torments both his body and mind, 
 without benefit to either, or to his fellow-creatures. 
 
 Those in whom self-love predominates to the greater or less 
 exclusion of a generous sympathy are called Selfish. 
 
116 
 
 Social Love. 
 
 The Social affections are most closely allied to self-love, for 
 continual experience assures us, they are unquestionably or- 
 dained by God to be the origin of by far the greatest part, of 
 all the conveniences we command, and of the pleasures we 
 enjoy; and even at the hour of our final departure. 
 
 " On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 
 Some pious drops the closing eye requires." 
 
 How forcibly then, are we called upon to do all the good 
 we justly can to our fellow-creatures, upon whom we are so 
 unceasingly dependant for the supply both of our most indis- 
 pensable wants and very numerous pleasures. 
 
 Sympathy. 
 
 Heaven perfected the gift of the social affections, by also 
 implanting Sympathy in our minds, in order that we might 
 mutually share and desire to promote each other's pleasures, 
 and to lessen each other's pains. Without sympathy, we 
 must, it is evident, have been devoid of emotion at the view or 
 recital of the enjoyments or sufferings of all creatures whatso- 
 ever, but on the contrary, we find that we follow the tra- 
 veller, 
 
 tread his deck, 
 
 Ascend his topmast, through his peering eyes 
 Discover countries ; with a kindred heart 
 Suffer his woes, and share in his escapes." 
 
 And without sympathy, what would become of the most de- 
 lightful pleasures of imagination ? 
 
 Thus sympathy is the emotion produced in our minds, by 
 the seeing, hearing, or imagining such pleasures or pains, 
 being enjoyed or endured by any creature, as we remember 
 to have experienced ourselves, or that we, from analogy, judge 
 we are liable to feel; whence the expression, fellow-feeling. 
 We have a Moral and a Physical sympathy. We sympa- 
 
117 
 
 thize with the joys or sorrows of any animal, according as we 
 see or suppose it to be in health or sickness, in plenty or 
 want, at liberty or in confinement, &c. and, 
 
 " His heart is hard in nature, and unfit 
 For human fellowship, as being void 
 Of Sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
 To love and friendship both, that is not pleas'd 
 With sight of animals enjoying life, 
 Nor feels their happiness augment his own." 
 
 Sympathy likewise occasions corresponding gestures and 
 motions in the person, in the same manner as it does emotions 
 in the mind ; and hence the danger of allowing children to 
 associate much with any one who has an unfortunate nervous 
 irritation that affects his appearance in any remarkable man- 
 ner, as St. Vitus's dance, &c. 
 
 Those pains, cceteris paribus, we have once ourselves la- 
 boured under, or the pleasures we have once tasted of, com- 
 monly excite the strongest sympathy in us ; so much so, that 
 he who has undergone amputation of a limb, for instance, 
 sometimes sympathizes with the patient more acutely than 
 another, who is a stranger to the precise kind of agony such 
 an operation occasions; though he may at the same mo- 
 ment be less moved by pity for the sufferer. And thus also 
 we are said to understand, or enter better into the feelings of 
 those who experience a joy with which we are familiar, yet we 
 may possibly, at the very same moment, envy them the satis- 
 faction they betray. 
 
 The effect sympathy produces in the mind of any one, de- 
 pends apparently upon his temperament, temper, dispositions, 
 state of health, and state of feeling. Appearances, that more or 
 less shock, distress, or rejoice some persons, scarcely, if at all, 
 disturb others ; and they disturb them more or less at one 
 time than at another; they likewise excite in them severally, as 
 various degrees of anxiety to alleviate pain, and to promote 
 
118 
 
 pleasure, or to aggravate the one, and to interfere with the 
 other. The cruel, for instance, are taught by sympathy how 
 to annoy and worry any creature ; the selfish commonly re- 
 main indifferent to joys and sorrows, which do not directly, or 
 indirectly concern them ; but the generous are, 
 
 " Never elated when one man's depress'd, 
 Never dejected when another's bless' d." 
 
 And, 
 
 " From their own, they learn to melt at other's woe." 
 
 " Ariel. your charm so strongly works 'em 
 
 That if you now beheld them, your affections 
 
 Would become tender. 
 Pros. Dost thou think so, Spirit ? 
 Ariel. Mine would, sir, were they human. 
 Pros. And mine shall. 
 
 Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
 
 Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, 
 
 One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, 
 
 Passions the same, be kindlier mov'd than thou art ?" 
 
 Selfish, Interested, Disinterested, Social, Unsocial Philan- 
 thropy, Misanthropy. 
 
 When we reflect upon the advantages and pleasures we 
 derive from the society of our fellow-creatures, we find it easy 
 to explain, why the selfish may be very Social, and yet be 
 regardless of the welfare of others, unless their own ease or 
 amusement be implicated in it. The selfish appear to be 
 anxious for the prosperity, and disturbed by the sufferings of 
 persons, upon whom their own comfort immediately, or more 
 or less remotely depends, because it is a disappointment or an 
 affliction to them, to have their several connexions so circum- 
 stanced, as not to afford them continual satisfaction ; but the 
 evils, public or private, the rest of mankind endure, penetrate 
 not their callous hearts. 
 
 The Philanthropist, on the contrary, with the true spirit of 
 a Christian, is more or less moved with pity and regret, at 
 
119 
 
 hearing of the ill treatment and sufferings of people of all 
 kindreds and nations, and fervently desires the well-being of 
 every one. 
 
 " God loves from whole to parts ; but human soul 
 Must rise from individual to the whole. 
 Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace, 
 His country next, and then all human race, 
 Wide and more wide the o'erflowings of the mind, 
 Takes every creature in of every kind." 
 
 And if power happily falls into such hands, we see in pro- 
 portion to the extent of it, 
 
 " Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, 
 And Heav'n beholds its image in his breast." 
 
 There does not appear to be a term in the English lan- 
 guage to express precisely the reverse of selfish, as Social does 
 of Unsocial, Disinterested of Interested. Disinterested and 
 interested seem to be applied most commonly to persons en- 
 gaged in some particular transaction. The philanthropist, or 
 the selfish, for instance, may alike be interested or disinte- 
 rested in some advice or assistance they give to others ; but a 
 person who is continually seeking to obtain advantages over 
 others is called interested, the contrary of this, disinterested. 
 
 Self-love is, as we have already observed, the constant desire 
 of obtaining good for ourselves. Sympathy, the correspond- 
 ing pleasure or pain we enjoy or suffer with others, and which 
 may excite in us a greater or less desire of promoting or re- 
 lieving the same. Selfish, the more or less exclusive desire of 
 gratifying our own inclinations, without consulting the comfort 
 or convenience of those we associate with, or engage in our 
 service. Social, the desire of society, Unsocial, a dislike to it, 
 or reluctance for different reasons to mix with it. We may 
 be social, without generous sympathy, as we may abound with 
 the milk of human kindness, without being social ; this is often 
 caused by circumstances, but seems sometimes to arise from a 
 
120 
 
 constitutional peculiarity. Misanthropy is opposed to Philan- 
 thropy. A misanthropist is commonly one who believes him- 
 self entitled to the gratitude of others, when, in fact, he has 
 been only indulging his most selfish propensities, his desire of 
 company and good cheer, perhaps, or of appearing generous, 
 though it be to his more remote, at the expense of his nearer 
 connexions. A prodigal, in his full career of extravagance, 
 must necessarily scatter his bounties around him, but the par- 
 takers of such mere casual advantages, cannot entertain the 
 same sense of gratitude and respect towards him, that they 
 would towards one who, instead of distressing his family and 
 dependants, had obtained the power of assisting them by the 
 frequent practice of self-denial, and who thus most evidently 
 made sacrifices for the benefit of others. The misanthropist, 
 who quarrels with the human race, because he has had just 
 reason to complain of ingratitude, forgets that casual ch> 
 cumstances may have connected him with the least estimable 
 persons, or possibly, that the want of discernment may have 
 grossly misled him, in the choice of friends and dependants. 
 
 Upon the due regulation of our self-love, sympathy, and 
 social feelings, our moral character must necessarily depend, 
 and consequently the prosperity of individuals, families, and 
 nations. 
 
 The evils of despotism, and the calamitous effects of war, 
 have originated in the counsels of the selfish, who however 
 often injure themselves, and sometimes eventually work their 
 own ruin, by the adoption of those very measures, they ima- 
 gine most likely to secure their individual interests. Among the 
 selfish are to be found all unjust conquerors, gamblers, drunk- 
 ards, prodigals, misers, in short, all persons who gratify their 
 inclinations at the expense of their moral duties ; which moral 
 duties positively require the fulfilment of the divine precept, 
 of doing as we would be done by. And were men's actions 
 generally to be strictly tried by that most admirable rule, not a 
 
121 
 
 few, perhaps, of the decisions, would to numbers be as unex- 
 pected, as was the discovery of his wits in the lunar regions, 
 to Astolpho of famous history. 
 
 " The selfish look upon themselves, as if they were all the 
 world, and no man beside concerned therein ; that the good 
 state of things is to be measured by their condition ; that all 
 is well, if they do prosper and thrive ; all is ill, if they be dis- 
 appointed in their desires and projects. The good of no man, 
 not of their brethren, not of their friends, not of their coun- 
 try, doth come under their consideration." 
 
 " This is the chief spring of injustice, for from hence it is, 
 that oftentimes men regard not what courses they take, what 
 means they use (how unjust, how base soever they be) toward 
 the compassing of their designs : hence, they trample upon 
 right, they violate all laws and rules of conscience, they falsify 
 their trusts, they betray their friends, they supplant their 
 neighbour, they flatter and colleague, they wind about and 
 shuffle any way, they detract from the worth and virtue of 
 any man, they forge and vent odious slanders, they commit 
 any sort of wrong and outrage, they (without regard or re- 
 morse) do any thing which seemeth to further their design." 
 
 " Selfishness therefore is the great enemy to the common- 
 weal, that which perverteth all right, which confoundeth all 
 order, which spoileth all the convenience and comfort of so- 
 ciety." 
 
 " The frame of our nature speaketh, that we are not born 
 for ourselves alone. We shall find man, if we contemplate 
 him, to be a nobler thing than to have been designed merely 
 to serve himself, and to satisfy his single pleasure ; his endow- 
 ments are too excellent, his capacities too large for so mean 
 and narrow purposes. How pitiful a creature were man, if 
 this were all he were made for, how sorry a faculty were rea- 
 son, if it served not to better uses. He debaseth himself, he 
 
122 
 
 disgraceth his nature, who hath so low conceits, and pursueth 
 so petty designs." 
 
 " Nay, even a true regard to our own private good will en- 
 gage us not inordinately to pursue self-interest. As we are 
 all born members of the world, as we are compacted into a 
 commonwealth, as we are incorporated into any society, as we 
 partake in any conversation or company, so by mutual sup- 
 port, aid, defence, comfort, not only the common welfare first, 
 but our particular benefit consequently doth subsist. On the 
 contrary, our thriving by the common prejudice, will in the 
 end turn to our own loss" Barrow. 
 
 Self- Will. 
 
 " Self-will is the offspring of selfishness ; in other words, 
 of self-indulgence. Self-will is the pleasing one's self in one's 
 choice and proceeding, without or against reason, as when a 
 man unaccountably or unreasonably, with obstinate resolution 
 pursueth any course offensive to others, or prejudicial to him- 
 self, so that he will not hearken to any advice, nor yield to 
 any consideration diverting him from his purpose, but putteth 
 off all with, Say what you can, let what will come on it, I 
 will do as I please, I will proceed in my own way, so I am re- 
 solved, so it shall be." 
 
 " But we should in no case indulge our own humour or 
 fancy, but ever look to the reason of the thing, and act ac- 
 cordingly, whatever it requireth." 
 
 We should never act, without striving with competent ap- 
 plication of mind, to discern clearly some reason why we act ; 
 and, from observing the dictates of that reason, no unaccount- 
 able cause should divert us : blind will, headstrong inclina- 
 tion, impetuous passion, should never guide, nor draw, nor 
 drive us to any thing ; for this is to act not like a man, but as 
 a beast, or rather worse than a beast, for beasts operate by a 
 
123 
 
 blind instinct ; whereas, man is obliged by some penalties, not 
 to follow inclinations blindly, but to act with serious delibera- 
 tion and choice, to observe explicit rules and resolutions of 
 reason.'* 
 
 " Men who are self-willed, are in their demeanour per- 
 verse and froward, stiff and stubborn, with much inconve- 
 nience to others, and commonly with more to themselves. It 
 must be just as they will have it ; what, if ten to one think 
 otherwise; what, if generally, the wisest men are agreed to 
 the contrary ; what, if the most pressing necessity of affairs 
 do not admit it ; what, if public authority does not allow it ; 
 yet so it must be, because they fancy it, otherwise they will 
 not be quiet ; so do they sacrifice the greatest benefits of so- 
 ciety, public order and peace, mutual love and friendship, 
 common safety and prosperity, to their private will and hu- 
 mour." Barrow. 
 
 Charity. 
 
 As selfishness and self-will spring from inordinate self- 
 love, so does Charity arise from our sympathetic and social 
 feelings. " Loving our neighbour as ourselves doth impart a 
 rule, directing what kind of love we should bear and exercise 
 toward him ; or informing us that our charity doth consist in 
 having the same affections of soul, and, in performing the 
 same acts of beneficence toward him, as we are ready by incli- 
 nation, as we are wont in practice, to have or to perform to- 
 ward ourselves, with full approbation of our judgment and con- 
 science, apprehending it just and reasonable so to do." 
 
 " We cannot, indeed, better understand the nature of this 
 duty, than by reflecting on the motions of our own heart, and 
 observing the course of our demeanor toward ourselves ; for 
 thence infallibly we may be assured, how we should stand 
 affected, and how we should behave ourselves toward others." 
 
 " This is a peculiar advantage of this rule (inferring the 
 
124 
 
 excellent wisdom and goodness of him who framed it) that by 
 it very easily and certainly, we may discern all the specialties 
 of our duty, without looking abroad, or having recourse to 
 external instructions ; so that by it we may be perfect law- 
 givers, and skilful judges, and faithful monitors to ourselves, 
 of what in any case we should do ; for we are not only taught 
 of God, as the Apostle saith, to love one another, but taught 
 of ourselves how to exercise that duty. Wherefore, for infor- 
 mation concerning our duty in each case and circumstance, we 
 need only thus to consult and interrogate ourselves ; hence, 
 forming resolutions concerning our practice." 
 
 " Do we not much esteem and set by ourselves, do we not 
 strive to maintain in our minds a good opinion of ourselves ; 
 can any mischances befalling us, any defects observable in 
 us, any faults committed by us, induce us to slight or despise 
 ourselves? This may teach us what regard and value we 
 should ever preserve for our neighbour." 
 
 " Do we not sincerely and earnestly desire our own welfare 
 and advantage in every kind ; do we not heartily wish good 
 success to our own designs and undertakings ; are we uncon- 
 cerned or coldly affected in any case touching our own safety, 
 our estate, our credit, our satisfaction, or pleasure? This 
 doth inform us what we should wish and covet for our neigh- 
 bour." 
 
 " Do we not seriously grieve at our own disasters and dis- 
 appointments ; are we not in sad dumps whenever we incur 
 any damage or disgrace ; do not our diseases and pains sorely 
 afflict us ; do we not pity and bemoan ourselves in any want, 
 calamity, or distress ? Hence, we may learn, how we should 
 condole and commiserate the misfortunes of our neigh- 
 bours." 
 
 " Do we not eagerly prosecute our own concerns, do we not 
 with huge vigour and industry strive to acquire all conve^ 
 
125 
 
 niences and comforts to ourselves, to rid ourselves of all 
 wants and molestations ? If we be well advised, do we not 
 labour to rescue ourselves from ignorance and error, from 
 the tyranny of sin, from the torture of a bad conscience, from 
 the danger of hell ? This sheweth how ready we should be 
 really to further our neighbour's good, ministering to him all 
 kinds of assistance and relief suitable to his needs, both 
 corporal and spiritual." 
 
 " Are we so proud or nice that we disdain to yield atten- 
 dance or service needful for our own sustenance or conve- 
 nience ? Do we not indeed gladly perform the meanest and 
 most sordid offices for ourselves ? This declareth how con- 
 descensive we should be in helping our neighbour, how ready 
 even to wash his feet when occasion doth require." 
 
 " Thus reflecting on ourselves, and making our practice to- 
 ward ourselves the pattern of our dealing with others, we shall 
 not fail to discharge what is prescribed to us in this law ; and 
 so we have here a rule of charity. Thus it is from sympathy 
 we learn what charity requires of us to do. 
 
 " The love of our neighbour doth imply readiness upon all 
 occasions to do him good, to promote and advance his bene- 
 fit in all kinds. It doth not rest in good opinions of mind 
 and good affections of heart, but from those roots doth put 
 forth abundant fruits of real beneficence ; it will not long be 
 satisfied with faint desires or sluggish wishes, but will be up 
 and doing what it can for its neighbour. Love is a busy and 
 active, a vigorous and sprightful, a courageous and industri- 
 ous disposition of soul, which will prompt a man and push him 
 forward to undertake or undergo any thing, to endure pains, to 
 encounter dangers, to surmount difficulties for the good of its 
 object." 
 
 " Hence charity will render a man a general benefactor in 
 all matters, upon all occasions, affording to his neighbour all 
 kinds of assistance and relief, according to his neighbour's 
 
T26 
 
 need and his own ability. It will make him a bountiful dis- 
 penser of his goods to the poor, a comforter of the afflicted, 
 a visitor of the sick, an instructor of the ignorant, an adviser 
 of the doubtful, a protector of the oppressed, a hospitable 
 entertainer of strangers, a reconciler of differences, an inter- 
 cessor for offenders, an advocate of those who need defence, 
 a succourer of all that want help. Such is a charitable man ; 
 the sun is not more liberal of his light and warmth than he is 
 of beneficial influence." 
 
 " Do we love to vex ourselves or cross our own humour, do 
 we not rather seek by all means to please and gratify ourselves ? 
 This may warn us how innocent and inoffensive, how compliant 
 and complacent we should be in our behaviour toward others, 
 endeavouring to please them in all things > especially, for their 
 good to edification." 
 
 " Are we easily angry with ourselves, do we retain impla- 
 cable grudges against ourselves, or do we execute upon our- 
 selves mischievous revenge ? Are we not rather very meek 
 and patient toward ourselves, mildly comporting with our own 
 great weaknesses, our troublesome humours, our impertinen- 
 cies and follies readily forgiving ourselves the most heinous 
 offences, neglects, affronts, injuries, and outrages, committed 
 by us against our own interest, honour, and welfare ? Hence 
 may we derive lessons of meekness and patience to be exer- 
 cised toward our neighbour, in bearing his infirmities and mis- 
 carriages, in remitting any wrongs or discourtesies received 
 from him." 
 
 " Do we use to pry for faults, or pick quarrels with our- 
 selves, to make foul constructions of our words, to blazon our 
 defects or aggravate our failings, do we not rather connive at 
 and conceal our blemishes, do we not excuse and extenuate 
 our own crimes ? Can we find in our hearts to murder our 
 own credit by slander, to blast it by detraction, to maun it 
 by reproach? Are we not rather very jealous of our reputa- 
 
12? 
 
 tion and studious to preserve it as a precious ornament, a main 
 fence, an useful instrument of our welfare ? Hence we may be 
 acquainted how civil and courteous in our behaviour, how fair 
 and ingenuous in our dealing, how candid and mild in our 
 judgment or censure we should be toward our neighbour 
 how very tender and careful we should be of anywise wrong- 
 ing or hurting his fame." 
 
 " We may ask with St. Paul, Why dost thou set at nought 
 thy brother ?" 
 
 " Is it for the lowness of his condition or for any misfor- 
 tune that hath befallen him? But are not the best men, 
 are not all men, art not thou thyself obnoxious to the like ? 
 Hath not God declared that he hath a special regard to such ? 
 and are not such things commonly disposed by his hand with 
 a gracious intent ?" 
 
 " Is it for meanness of parts, or abilities, or endowments ? 
 but are not these the gifts of God, absolutely at his disposal, 
 and arbitrarily distributed or preserved; so that thou who 
 art so wise in thy own conceit to-day, may, by a disease, or 
 from a judgment, deserved by thy pride, become an idiot to- 
 morrow ? Have not many good, and therefore many happy, 
 men wanted these things ?" 
 
 " Is it for moral imperfections or blemishes, for vicious ha- 
 bits, or actual misdemeanors ? These indeed are the only de- 
 basements and disparagements of a man ; yet do they not ex- 
 punge the characters of Divinity impressed on his nature, and 
 he may by God's mercy recover from them ; and are not we 
 ourselves, if grace do not uphold us, liable to the same ? and 
 may we not, if without partiality or flattery we examine our- 
 selves, discern the same within us, or other defects equivalent?" 
 
 " We may consider that the common things, both good and 
 bad, wherein men agree, are far more considerable than the 
 peculiar things wherein they differ ; to be a man is much be- 
 yond being a lord, or a wit, or a philosopher ; to be a true 
 
128 
 
 Christian doth infinitely surpass being an emperor or learned 
 clerk ; to be a sinner is much worse than to be a beggar or an 
 idiot. The agreement of men is in the body and substance of 
 things ; the difference is in a circumstance, a fringe or a sha- 
 dow about them, so that we cannot despise another man with- 
 out reflecting contempt on ourselves who are so very like him, 
 and not considerably better than he, or hardly can without ar- 
 rogance pretend to be so." 
 
 " We may therefore, and reason doth require that we 
 should, value our neighbour ; and it is no impossible or un- 
 reasonable precept which St. Peter giveth us, to honour all 
 men ; and with it a charitable mind will easily comply ; it ever 
 will descry something valuable, something honourable, some- 
 thing amiable in our neighbour ; it will find somewhat of dig- 
 nity in the meanest, somewhat of worth in the basest, some- 
 what hopeful in the most degenerate of men ; it therefore will 
 not absolutely slight or scorn any man whatever, looking on 
 him as an abject or forlorn wretch, unworthy of consideration." 
 
 " We do all conceive love and respect due to us from all 
 men ; we take all men bound to wish and tender our welfare ; 
 we suppose our need to require commiseration and succour 
 from every man ; if it be refused we think it a hard case, and 
 that we are ill-used ; we cry out of wrong, of discourtesy, of 
 inhumanity, of baseness practised towards us. A moderate 
 respect and affection will hardly satisfy some of us, we pretend 
 to them in the highest degree, being disgusted with the least 
 appearance of disregard or disaffection ; we can scarce better 
 digest indifference than hatred. This evidenceth our opinion 
 and conscience to be, that we ought to pay the greatest re- 
 spect and kindness to our neighbour, for it is plainly unjust 
 and ridiculously vain to require that from others, which we 
 refuse to them who may demand it upon the same title ; nor 
 can we without self-condemnation practise that which we de- 
 test in the rest of our species." 
 
129 
 
 " In all reason and equity, if I would have another my 
 friend, I must be a friend to him ; if I pretend to charity from 
 all men, I must render it to all in the same kind and measure." 
 
 " Hence is the law of charity well expressed in those terms, 
 of doing to others whatever we would have them do to us; 
 whereby the palpable equity of this practice is demonstrated." 
 
 " Charity will moreover encompass a man with friends, 
 with many guards of his safety, with many supports of his 
 fortune, with many patrons of his reputation, with many suc- 
 courers of his necessity, with many comforters of his afflic- 
 tion; for is a charitable man in danger, who will not defend 
 him ? Is he falling, who will not uphold him ? Is he falsely 
 accused or aspersed, who will not vindicate him? Is he in dis- 
 tress, who will not pity him ; who will not endeavour to re- 
 lieve and restore him? Who will insult over his calamity? 
 Will it not in such cases appear a common duty, a common 
 interest, to assist and countenance a common friend, a com- 
 mon benefactor to mankind ?" 
 
 " And thus our self-love may lead us to act towards others, 
 as we must hope they will be induced to act towards us." 
 . " Uncharitableness is a very mean and base thing ; it con- 
 tracteth a man's soul into a narrow compass, or straighteneth 
 it into one point, drawing all his thoughts, his desires, his af- 
 fections, into himself as to their centre ; so that his reason, his 
 will, his activity, have but one pitiful object to exercise them- 
 selves about ; to scrape together a little pelf, to catch a va- 
 pour of fame, to progg for a frivolous semblance of power or 
 dignity ; to soothe the humour, or pamper the sensuality of 
 one poor worm is the ignoble subject of his busy care and en- 
 deavour." 
 
 " But withholding his portion from the poor, as it will pollute 
 and profane all our estate, so it will render the fruition thereof 
 sour or unsavoury to us ; for can we with any content taste 
 our dainties, or view our plenties, while the poor man stands in 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 sight, pining with hunger ? Can we without regret see our 
 walls clothed with tapestry, our horses decked with golden 
 trappings, our attendants strutting in wanton gaiety, while our 
 honest poor brother appears half naked, and trembling with 
 cold ? Can we carry on one finger enough to furnish ten poor 
 people with necessaries, and have the heart within us, without 
 shame and displeasure, to see them want. No, the sense of 
 our impiety and ingratitude toward God, of our inhumanity 
 and unworthiness toward our neighbour, will not foil (if ever 
 we considerately reflect on our behaviour) to sting us with 
 cruel remorse and self-condemnation; the clamours of want 
 and misery surrounding us, will pierce our ears and wound our 
 hearts." 
 
 " We should remember that we are mortal and frail ; were we 
 immortal, or could we probably retain our possessions for ever 
 in our hands ; yea, could we foresee some definite space of 
 time, considerably long, in which we might assuredly enjoy our 
 stores, it might seem somewhat excusable to scrape hard and 
 to hold fast ; to do so might look like rational providence ; 
 but since riches must infallibly be soon left, and there is no 
 certainty how long we may keep them, it is very unaccount- 
 able why we should so greedily seek them, and hug them so 
 fondly. We should reckon that it may happen to us, as it has 
 done to many others, that after we have reared great barns, 
 and stored up much goods for many years, our soul this very 
 night might be required of tis, and if it be uncertain when, it is 
 however most certain, that, after a very short time, our thread 
 will be spun out ; then shall we be rifled and quite stripped of 
 all, becoming stark naked as when we came into the world ; 
 we shall not carry with us one grain of our glittering metals, 
 nor one rag of our gaudy stuff; our stately houses, our fine 
 gardens, and our spacious walks, must all be exchanged for a 
 close hole under ground ; we must for ever bid farewell to our 
 pomps and magnificences, to our feasts arid jollities, to our 
 
131 
 
 sport and pastimes not one of all our numerous and splendid 
 retinue, no companion of our pleasures, no admirer of our 
 fortune, no flatterer of our vices, can wait upon us ; desolate 
 and unattended we must go down to the chambers of darkness ; 
 then shall we find that to die rich (as men are wont impro- 
 perly to speak) is really to die most poor ; that to have care- 
 fully kept our money, is to have lost it utterly. All our trea- 
 sures will not procure us any favour, nor purchase one advocate 
 for us in that impartial world. We shall, moreover, leave our 
 riches behind us as marks of obloquy, and monuments of in- 
 famy upon our memories ; for ordinarily of such a rich per- 
 son it is true, what Job says of him, Men shall clap their 
 hands at him, and hiss him out of his place, like one who 
 departs from off this stage, after having very ill acted his part 
 on it." 
 
 " But he, who out of conscience and reverence toward God, 
 out of good-will and kindness to his brother, hath disposed 
 and given to the poor, he shall at last find God infinitely more 
 bountiful to him than he hath been to the needy. For when 
 all the flashes of sensual pleasures* are quite extinct, when all 
 the flowers of secular glory are withered away, when all earthly 
 treasures are buried in darkness, when this world, and all the 
 fashions of it are utterly vanished and gone, the bountiful 
 man's state will be still firm and flourishing, and his righteous- 
 ness shall endure for ever" Barrow. 
 
 Patriotism. 
 
 " Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 
 Who never to himself hath said, 
 This is my own, my native land V 
 
 We are disposed more or less to love and cherish our 
 native land, and to befriend our countrymen. This feeling 
 arises jointly from our self-love, social affections, and the 
 
132 
 
 force of habit. We prefer it because it in a manner belongs 
 to us, and to those most dear to us, and that it entombs the 
 ashes of our forefathers. Habit too has endeared to us even 
 the inanimate objects it contains. 
 
 Hospitality. 
 
 The truly Hospitable are disposed courteously to receive, 
 and kindly to entertain their friends, acquaintance, and stran- 
 gers, as far as their means will permit, without their wronging 
 any one. To do more than this, is selfishness, it is to indulge 
 our wish of appearing generous, or our love of society, at the 
 expense of justice ; but we may do less, either from the want 
 of social feeling, or from some peculiar habits or circumstances. 
 The practice of hospitality must therefore unavoidably de- 
 pend, more or less, upon the government under which we live, 
 the state of society, prevailing customs, upon the health and 
 character of the several members of our family, &c. For in- 
 stance, our propensity, to be generally hospitable, can be far 
 more safely indulged in a thinly, than in a thickly inhabited 
 country ; remote from, tharj near to a town ; in a small, than 
 in a large community. But unless avarice be their ruling 
 passion, men are commonly well-inclined both to seek and to 
 invite frequent intercourse with each other ; to suppose other- 
 wise, is to believe man an unsocial animal, or averse to the 
 indulgence of his inclinations. To be hospitable is to be ge- 
 nerous, but to be generous we must be just ; thus it is prosti- 
 tuting the word hospitable, to apply it to such as entertain 
 strangers at the expense of injuring their family, and defraud- 
 ing their dependants and tradespeople. 
 
 Benevolence. 
 
 Benevolence is the necessary consequence of our loving our 
 brethren, for we cannot love them, without feeling disposed to 
 
133 
 
 do them as much good as is compatible with our several ob- 
 ligations in life. 
 
 Compassion, Commiseration, Pity. 
 
 Social love and sympathy dispose us, more or less, to com- 
 passionate and pity the sufferings of humanity, or of any living 
 creature. 
 
 To Comfort, Console, Cheer, Soothe. 
 
 And compassion and commiseration to soothe, comfort, and 
 cheer the afflicted. 
 
 Obliging, Complaisant, Accommodating, Unaccommodating, 
 Disobliging, Offensive. 
 
 The good and amiable are spontaneously disposed to be 
 obliging, complaisant, accommodating, &c. But the selfish often 
 put on the appearance of it, in order to answer some purpose 
 of their own. 
 
 Considerate, Overbearing. 
 
 The considerate commonly take into account in what man- 
 ner their proposed actions, are likely to interfere with the 
 comfort and convenience of others. The overbearing are not 
 deterred by any such restraints, from gratifying their most 
 wanton caprices. 
 
 Conciliatory. 
 
 The philanthropist is ever anxious to maintain peace and 
 goodwill among men, and to please them in every reasonable 
 manner. 
 
 To Embroil, Irritate, Exasperate. 
 
 The selfish often hope, on the contrary, to find their own 
 profit, by embroiling their neighbours in quarrels and litiga- 
 tions, and by irritating and exasperating them against one 
 another. 
 
 To Monopolize. 
 
 And to monopolize every advantage they can obtain over 
 others. 
 
134 
 
 Scrupulous, Encroaching. 
 
 Well regulated minds are very scrupulous of encroaching 
 upon the attentions, kindness, or generosity of others, but the 
 selfish seldom lose any thing for want of asking. 
 
 To Persecute. 
 
 Some men are disposed to persecute others, either for their 
 religious or political opinions, or from malevolence. 
 
 To Injure, Wrong, Ruin. 
 
 Many men are disposed to injure, wrong, and ruin others, 
 some do it unintentionally, and some unavoidably. 
 
 To Annoy, Disturb, Molest, Tease, Vex, Provoke, Worry, 
 
 Enrage. 
 
 And are apt to tease, annoy, &c. others in various ways, 
 some purposely, others unconsciously, and some idly. 
 
 To Ridicule. 
 
 We are apt to ridicule those who act absurdly, or contrary 
 to reason. The ill-disposed and thoughtless sometimes ridi- 
 cule the mistakes or awkwardnesses of their associates, or of 
 the indigent, or their mental and personal defects. 
 
 To Appease, Pacify, Mollify. 
 
 The good are disposed to appease the irritations that disturb 
 others, and to mollify their resentments. 
 
 To Encourage, Incite, Spur on. 
 
 Also to encourage the industrious, and to incite and spur on 
 the indolent. 
 
 To Animate, Enliven, Exhilarate. 
 
 The sprightly often animate, enliven, an.d exhilarate their 
 associates, and also the depressed. 
 
135 
 
 To Intimidate, Depress, Cast down. 
 
 The tyrannical and overbearing endeavour to intimidate and 
 depress the weak and defenceless. 
 
 Like, Love, Adore, Idolize, Dislike, Hate, Detest, Abhor, 
 
 Abominate. 
 
 We are disposed to like, love, in numberless ways and de- 
 grees, also to hate, detest, &c. 
 
 To be Infatuated. 
 
 When we love contrary to the dictates of our reason, or 
 desire to have that which would evidently be hurtful to us, we 
 are said to be infatuated. 
 
 Preference, Partiality, Impartiality. 
 
 The greater degree of love we are disposed to bear to one 
 person or thing more than to another, is expressed by the 
 words preference, partiality. When we do not betray any 
 preference, we are said to be impartial. 
 
 To be Zealous, Earnest, Lukewarm. 
 
 We are more or less zealous or lukewarm, in the pursuit of 
 any business or pleasure, either on our own or on another's 
 account. 
 
 To Enjoy, to be Charmed with, to Delight in, to be in Trans- 
 ports, Raptures. 
 
 We are all of us disposed to be delighted with, to be trans- 
 ported with the perception of things we consider eminently 
 great, beautiful, curious, sublime, &c. 
 
 To have a Repugnance to, an Aversion to, Antipathy to, to be 
 
 Disgusted with, to Loathe. 
 Some of our antipathies are as unreasonable as our pre- 
 
136 
 
 ferences. We have a repugnance to whatever is disagreeable, 
 and loathe what is nauseous to us. 
 
 Chaste, Unchaste. 
 
 Chastity, we apprehend, expresses such a temper of mind, 
 as indisposes it to entertain thoughts, or to commit actions 
 unsuitable to the dignity of virtue, or to hold intercourse with 
 persons any way inclined to insult our natural modesty, and 
 whom we term unchaste, 
 
 Modest, Immodest. 
 
 We consider those persons modest, whose looks, air, lan- 
 guage, manners, and dress, bespeak a mind unsullied by the 
 contamination of unchaste thoughts. Alarmed or offended 
 modesty expresses itself by blushes. 
 
 Coquetry, Love. 
 
 Coquetry, in the good sense of the word, is the first and 
 indirect expression, we apprehend, of those feelings, nature 
 has implanted in the two sexes towards each other ; and thus 
 all young persons of one sex, are apt to experience a peculiar 
 sort of anxiety in the presence of the other, a perturbation, a 
 vague hope, they are unconscious of themselves, though it is 
 commonly, more or less apparent to bystanders. As this feel- 
 ing becomes stronger and stronger, it finally takes the name 
 of Love. 
 
 " Oh happy love, where love like this is found, 
 Oh heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! 
 I've paced much this weary mortal round, 
 And sage experience bids me this declare ; 
 If Heaven, a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, 
 One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, 
 In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, 
 Beneath the milk-white thorn, that scents the evening gale," 
 
137 
 
 Friendship, Conjugal Affection. 
 
 Friendship implies the strongest degree of social affection 
 we are capable of entertaining towards one another ; and it 
 serves to confirm the empire of love itself. 
 
 " Tis Friendship makes the bondage sweet, 
 And feeds their mutual loves." 
 
 But love often exists without friendship; the voluptuary 
 has only the baser propensity, and thus, 
 
 " Unknown to him when sensual pleasures cloy, 
 To fill the languid pause with finer joy." 
 
 But Conjugal Affection is friendship founded upon love. 
 True friendship leads us spontaneously to do as we would be 
 done by, and when we act otherwise, we are moved by selfish- 
 ness, not friendship. 
 
 Selfishness is most particularly baneful to conjugal affec- 
 tion, because so strict a union cannot be long comfortably 
 maintained, but by mutual endeavours to support each other, 
 through the various trials all, even the most fortunate, are 
 liable to encounter in this state of probation. Whereas, how 
 common is it to see one of the party become more exacting, in 
 proportion to the sacrifices made by the other, and the most 
 earnest devotion repaid with neglect. 
 
 To Flirt. 
 
 The propensity to flirt is at best, a mere idle habit, ori- 
 ginating in vanity; but it is sometimes a meretricious art, 
 leading to the worst consequences. 
 
 To Jilt. 
 
 Some flirts, whether men or women, jilt, because they 
 have unintentionally excited hopes ; others are disposed to it, 
 
138 
 
 and find their amusement in the disappointment of their 
 lovers ; few of these, however, it is to be hoped, have allowed 
 themselves to weigh the very probable consequences of their 
 cruel proceedings. 
 
 Licentious, Profligate, Debauched. 
 
 Some persons abandon themselves, more or less, and in dif- 
 ferent ways, to licentiousness, profligacy, and debauchery. 
 
 Parental Affection. 
 
 When a father beholds his children, he sees beings he has 
 made tenants of a thorny and intricate world, and whose wel- 
 fare through, perhaps, a long life, principally depends upon 
 his judicious management of them during their minority. He 
 must therefore, feel himself so far responsible for their ac- 
 tions, and he is accordingly empowered by the laws, both 
 human and divine, to enforce obedience. And as a parent is 
 thus, to a certain degree/ accountable to God for the conduct 
 of his children ; so are guardians or teachers to the parents 
 who employ them, it being a delegated trust, voluntarily un- 
 dertaken. And it is voluntary too, on the part of the parents, 
 for they enter the marriage state upon this express condition. 
 
 Filial Affection. 
 
 Filial affection is founded upon gratitude. Children feel 
 grateful for the tender care (direct or indirect) bestowed upon 
 them by their parents during their infancy and youth. 
 
 Fraternal Affection, 
 
 Fraternal affection is friendship establisfred by the ties of 
 blood and early habit. 
 
 Strict, Severe, Relaxed, Indulgent* 
 Persons in authority are disposed to Be, more or less, strict 
 
139 
 
 and severe, or relaxed and indulgent, justly or unjustly, judi- 
 ciously or injudiciously. 
 
 Obedient, Dutiful, Disobedient, Unruly, Refractory. 
 
 And those they command are inclined to be, more or less, 
 obedient, or disobedient, unruly, refractory, &c. and their 
 disobedience is more or less blameable, according to the na- 
 ture and extent of the duties or actions exacted of them. 
 
140 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Desire of Happiness. Desire of Reward and Fear of Punishment. Conscience. 
 Reason, Faith, Enthusiasm, Extasy. True or Abstract Virtue and Vice, or 
 Moral Right and Wrong. Arbitrary Virtue and Vice, or Moral Right and 
 Wrong. Good and Evil. Moral Good and Evil. Reward and Punishment. 
 Prejudice, Superstition. Toleration, Bigotry. Credulity, Scepticism. 
 
 Desire of Happiness both in our Present and Future state of 
 existence, or to obtain Good and to avoid Evil. 
 
 HUMAN Happiness is defined to be, The enjoyment of the 
 greatest degree of Good, with the least mixture of Evil. 
 All men, in fact, abstractedly desire such happiness, but they 
 are more or less diverted from the steady pursuit of it, ac- 
 cording to the force or weakness of their judgment, and the 
 degree of discipline to which they commonly subject their in- 
 clinations : a man may, for instance, either not have sagacity 
 to discover his proper line of conduct, or want resolution to 
 obey the dictates of his reason. 
 
 The earnest desire of true happiness induces us carefully to 
 consider in what manner we ought to act, in order to obtain any 
 future good, or to avoid any future evil, and to be willing to 
 sacrifice present advantages or pleasures accordingly ; in other 
 words, habitually to prefer the restraints required of us by 
 virtue, to the freedom permitted us by vice. Men pursue 
 happiness in innumerable ways ; some by the excessive indul- 
 gence of their ambition, or vanity, or desire of pleasure, or of 
 wealth, or of independence, &c. but wisdom, we presume, ad- 
 vises the reasonable gratification of our several directing dis- 
 
positions to the degree as nearly as possible, that our capa- 
 city, character, and situation, may seem likely, eventually to 
 render most advantageous to us. A labourer, for example, 
 may be laudably ambitious of excelling in his trade ; proud of 
 his good name, dexterity, and consequent influence with his 
 employer ; vain of having his family, his house, and himself, 
 appear clean and neat ; he may desire the pleasure of enjoying 
 many rustic amusements with his neighbours ; ease in various 
 ways ; wholesome changes of labour and repose ; occasional 
 novelties ; he may be curious to know by what means the land 
 would be most successfully tilled, or cattle reared ; he may de- 
 sire independence of all charity, and to quit any harsh or un- 
 reasonably dissatisfied or unjust master ; he may desire power 
 or promotion within his sphere of life ; wealth to command, 
 not only the necessaries, but some of the comforts of life ; 
 and employment to obtain subsistence, and to beguile time. 
 Thus, we imagine, man cannot be long happy, but by the oc- 
 casional indulgence of these several propensities, and that 
 were it possible entirely to subdue any of them, he would be 
 a less excellent creature than he is, and less fitted for a joint 
 tenant of this sublunary world. Man will find his happiness 
 too, in duly regulating all his primary dispositions, for whatever 
 be his rank or pursuit in life, he will find abundant occasions 
 for the exercise of his patience, courage, forbearance, &c. 
 
 The desire of Happiness in a future state of existence, is 
 the bright beacon that fixes the eye the more steadily, the 
 greater the difficulties that present themselves in our voyage 
 t owards it. 
 
 The Desire of Reward and Fear of Punishment. 
 
 The desire of Reward and fear of Punishment seems to 
 have been universally implanted in us, in order to induce us 
 to take heed generally, of the consequences of what we are 
 
142 
 
 about to do, for were we regardless of them, we should be 
 always determined to action by the prevailing inclination of the 
 moment. This excitement is calculated to urge us to the 
 practice of virtue at any sacrifice, and to restrain us from the 
 pursuit of vice, however alluring ; to cause us to make various 
 provisions for the future, and to guard against many evils, ap- 
 parent and concealed, likely and possible to happen ; likewise 
 to enable us to live in community ; for without hope of reward 
 or fear of punishment from men, we should commonly prove 
 a lawless, ungovernable race of beings. 
 
 Rewards and punishments are either natural or instituted, 
 the first are the necessary consequences of actions, the latter 
 determined by law, custom, or caprice. The provident are 
 commonly rewarded by escaping many evils to which the im- 
 provident idly expose themselves. If we offend the customs 
 of a country, we subject ourselves to be censured and shunned; 
 and if we violate the established laws, a supposed suitable 
 punishment awaits us. 
 
 The fear of punishment, doubtless, operates more power- 
 fully in general upon the human mind than the hope of reward, 
 and rulers often use this argument to govern men rather with 
 the sword than with the sceptre ; they take not into the ac- 
 count, however, that uneasiness it is, that causes men to become 
 restless, adventurous, and desperate, and fit instruments to be 
 obtained for the worst purposes. 
 
 " 1st Murderer. I am one, my liege, 
 Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world 
 Have so incens'd, that I am* reckless what 
 I do to spite the world. 
 
 2d Murderer. And I another, 
 So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, 
 That I would set my life on any chance 
 To mend it, or be rid on't." 
 
143 
 
 Conscience. 
 
 " He that has light within his own clear breast 
 May sit i' th' center, and enjoy bright day ; 
 But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts 
 Benighted walks under the mid-day sun 
 Himself is his own dungeon." Milton. 
 
 " What is conscience ? Is it, as has been thought, an in- 
 ternal monitor implanted in us by the Supreme Being, and 
 dictating to us on all occasions what is right or wrong ? Or 
 is it merely our own judgment of the moral rectitude or turpi- 
 tude of our own actions ? I take the word with Mr. Locke in 
 the latter, as in the only intelligible sense. Now who sees 
 not, that our judgments of virtue and vice, right and wrong, 
 are not always formed from an enlightened and dispassionate 
 use of our reason in the investigation of truth ? They are 
 more generally formed from the nature of the religion we pro- 
 fess ; from the quality of the civil government under which we 
 live ; from the general manners of the age, or the particular 
 manners of the persons with whom we associate ; from the 
 education we have had in our youth; from the books we have 
 read at a more advanced period, and from other accidental 
 causes. Who sees not that, on this account, conscience may 
 be conformable or repugnant to the law of nature may be 
 certain or doubtful ? and that it can be no criterion of moral 
 rectitude even when it is certain, because the certainty of an 
 opinion is no proof of its being a right opinion ? A man may be 
 certainly persuaded of an error in reasoning, or of an untruth 
 in matters of fact. It is a maxim of every law, human and 
 divine, that a man ought never to act in opposition to his con- 
 science ; but it will not from thence follow that he will, in 
 obeying the dictates of his conscience, on all occasions act 
 right." Watsoris Apology for the Bible. 
 
 God having ordained that the perception of things should 
 
144 
 
 excite in us not only present pleasure and pain, but also that 
 it should produce effects of a more permanent nature, opi- 
 nions, which are peculiar modes of thinking, and which modes 
 most commonly regulate our actions, establish themselves in 
 our minds with more and less force and steadiness, and we like- 
 wise adopt, with more or less tenacity, many of the notions we 
 find current in the world. The character of a man's opinions 
 seems to be, as Dr. Watson says, generally determined by the 
 strength and activity of his understanding, by his peculiar 
 temperament, by the objects he becomes familiar with, by the 
 sort of entertainment he gives them, and by a variety of other 
 circumstances that influence him throughout life ; and this 
 alone will explain how it comes to pass, that the very same ac- 
 tion which is esteemed virtue in one country, is sometimes con- 
 sidered to be actually vice in another. Moreover, as our opi- 
 nions change upon moral matters, so does our conscience 
 effect a suitable change in our conduct. It often happens, 
 for instance, that he who has long indulged himself without 
 scruple in the enjoyment of many worldly pleasures, is brought, 
 either by the experience of their vanity, or by misfortune, or 
 by the persuasions of others, to believe them criminal, and 
 consequently to abandon them more or less abruptly and 
 strictly. Courtiers have thus voluntarily quitted the bril- 
 liant saloons of Versailles, in order to entomb themselves 
 within the gloomy walls of La Trappe. Prejudice and super- 
 stition strangely warp the human mind, and seemingly there 
 is no absurdity man is not capable of practising from con- 
 scientious motives. Some men continually torment themselves, 
 and some as continually torment others, in the very monstrous 
 belief of its proving acceptable to the Father of all Mercies. 
 But though reason is, as experience assures us, apt to be biassed 
 in such a vast variety of ways, in its determination of what is 
 morally right, yet is it in every man, from his childhood, fitted 
 to apprise him, that it is his duty to act according to his sense 
 
145 
 
 of right, whatever it may be, and this sense of right is what 
 we call Conscience. 
 
 Conscience, however, like most other moral terms, compre- 
 hends many distinct notions, all which or nearly, it is neces- 
 sary to take into the account, if we would have an adequate 
 and determined idea of it. 
 
 It supposes the belief of the existence of an eternal, om- 
 niscient, and omnipotent Being governing the universe by im- 
 mutable laws, (for perfection can need no change). It supposes 
 man created with intelligence, sensibility, and volition, and 
 left a free agent. Intelligent, to apprehend more or less cor- 
 rectly by his own sagacity, or by the instructions of others, 
 or by revelation, that God is, and that he has endowed him 
 with faculties for the use of which he will hereafter call him 
 to account : sensibility, to subject him to the impressions of 
 pleasure and pain, and consequently to temptations, since 
 where there is no temptation there can be no merit in forbear- 
 ance : volition, to determine him to seek whatever seemeth 
 good to him ; and a free agent, in order to render him respon- 
 sible for his actions. It supposes that, attaching the idea of 
 moral right to those actions he believes the most conforma- 
 ble to the intentions of his Maker, he calls them virtues, and 
 that the opposite to these he concludes to be morally wrong, 
 and denominates them vices, and men virtuous or vicious ac- 
 cording to their conduct. It supposes that he is satisfied with 
 himself whenever he does, or means to do right, though evil 
 come of it ; but is dissatisfied with himself whenever he does, or 
 means to do wrong, though good as unexpectedly follow. It 
 supposes that we believe ourselves entirely dependent upon the 
 Ruler of all things, and that he will reward the virtuous and 
 punish the vicious suitably to both their visible and invisible 
 actions, and to his own consummate justice and mercy, and 
 which actions can be nicely scrutinized only by that Eye that 
 
146 
 
 unceasingly penetrates all space. It supposes, that the idea of 
 perfect justice excites confidence and tranquillity in the virtu- 
 ous, but terror in the vicious, and that the belief of infinite 
 mercy restores peace to the truly penitent. Such we appre*- 
 hend to be, pretty nearly, the nature of that very complex 
 idea we call conscience. 
 
 The shaking off the restraints, or the stilling of the voice 
 of conscience, are figurative terms, denoting the endeavour we 
 make to lose the remembrance, of our being subject to an 
 omniscient and omnipotent Power or could we forget our 
 offences the effect would be the same could we but, 
 
 " Raze out the written troubles of the brain, 
 And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, 
 Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff 
 Which weighs upon the heart." 
 
 conscience would cease from troubling us. 
 
 In short, all men, we suppose, have their notions of moral 
 right and wrong, determined by the opinions they severally 
 entertain, which opinions we find, however, they are liable to 
 change at any period of their lives, and to be swayed by them 
 accordingly. That their opinions entirely regulate the deci- 
 sions of their conscience, and that conscience influences all men 
 essentially alike, whatever be their peculiar notions of God, 
 or of virtue and vice. Dr. Watson's conclusion appears there- 
 fore perfectly just, that most certainly no man ought to act in 
 opposition to his conscience, but that his peculiar notions of 
 right may in themselves be very wrong, and most contrary to 
 both natural and revealed religion. ] 
 
 The acquiring false notions of virtue and vice it is, that causes 
 men often earnestly to pursue that which is in itself wrong, 
 from the strongest persuasion of its being right, and the world 
 has been most cruelly and variously afflicted by such mistakes, 
 as well as by the wilful injuries, bad men have done it. But 
 a well exercised judgment cannot but determine us mpst 
 
147 
 
 strictly to conform our actions to the pure doctrines of Chris- 
 tianity, and thus to reject opinions likely to warp our con- 
 science r to the exclusion of truths, the adoption of which is of 
 the utmost possible importance to our own, and in many cases 
 to the general happiness of multitudes. It clearly appears 
 therefore, that conscience is not implanted in us for the purpose 
 of directing us in forming our opinions of virtue and vice, that 
 being the proper office of reason ; but only to rate us whenever 
 we swerve from the practice of those notions we may severally 
 entertain of moral right ; it goads us to do that which we 
 believe we ought to do, and warns us to leave undone those 
 things which we suppose we ought not to do. 
 
 " It is a peculiar excellency of human nature which seemeth 
 more to distinguish man from any inferior rank of creatures 
 than bare reason itself, that he can reflect upon all that is 
 done within him, can discern the tendencies of his soul, is ac- 
 quainted with his own purposes : some shadows of other ra- 
 tional operations are discoverable in beasts, but no good rea- 
 son or experience can, I suppose, make it probable, that they 
 partake of this reflexive faculty ; that they do ever regard or 
 remark upon their own imaginations ; they seem always to 
 march directly forward with a blind impetuousness toward 
 some object that pleases them, without attending to the fancy 
 that guides them, or the appetite which excites them. But 
 man being designed by his Maker, disposed by the frame of 
 his nature, and obliged by a law imposed on him not to follow 
 the casual impulses from exterior objects, nor the base conduct 
 of his imagination, nor the sway of his natural propensities, 
 but to regulate as well the internal workings of his soul, as 
 his external actions, according to certain laws or rules pre- 
 scribed him to settle his thoughts upon due objects, to bend 
 his inclinations into a right frame, to restrain his affections 
 within due bounds, to rectify his judgment of things, to ground 
 his purposes on honest reasons, and direct them into lawful 
 
148 
 
 matters it is needful that he should have this power of dis- 
 cerning whatever moveth or passeth within him; what he 
 thinks upon, whither he inclines, how he judge th, whence he: 
 is affected, wherefore he doth resolve. Without this power, 
 he could not be a moral agent, not able to perform any duty, 
 not properly subject to any law, not liable to render an ac- 
 count of his doings. Did he not perceive his own thoughts, 
 how could he dispel them when they are bad or vain ? Might 
 he not observe his own inclinations, how could he strive to 
 keep them in check or to reform them, when they draw to 
 unlawful practices ? Were he not sensible of his affections, 
 how could he endeavour to reduce or compare them, when 
 they become exorbitant or tumultuous ? Were he not con- 
 scious of his own opinions, how could he weigh and examine 
 them, how could he conform his actions to them, or practise 
 according to the dictates of his conscience? It is therefore, 
 plainly needful that man should be endued with this power, 
 since without it he can neither perform the duty required of 
 him, nor enjoy the benefits he is capacified and designed for: 
 the intention of our Maker in conferring it upon us is there- 
 fore evident, our duty consists in its right use, our advantage 
 ariseth from the constant and careful exercise of this excellent 
 faculty." 
 
 " This is then our duty, recommended by the wise man, ta 
 be continually, with extreme diligence, looking inward upon, 
 ourselves, observing what thoughts spring up within us, what 
 imaginations find most welcome harbour in our breasts, what, 
 objects most affect us with delight or displeasure; what it is 
 we love and readily embrace, what we distaste and presently 
 reject; what prejudices do possess our minds ; wherefore we 
 propose to ourselves certain undertakings ; conversing with 
 ourselves, that we should, as it were, discourse in this manner, 
 What is it that I think upon, are my thoughts serious, sea- 
 sonable, and pure ? Whither do I propend, are my inclina- 
 
149 
 
 tions compliant to God's law and good reason? what judg- 
 ments do I make of things : are my apprehensions clear, solid, 
 sure, built upon no corrupt prejudice ? what doth most easily 
 stir me, and how is my heart moved ; are my affections calm 
 and orderly, and well-placed ? what plots do I contrive, what 
 projects am I driving on; are my designs good, are my inten- 
 tions upright and sincere ? let me thoroughly inquire into these 
 points, let me be fully satisfied in them. Thus should we con- 
 tinually be doing." 
 
 " All men are very curious and inquisitive after knowledge, 
 the being endued therewith, passeth for a goodly ornament, a 
 rich possession, a matter of great satisfaction, and much solid 
 advantage. Men are commonly ashamed of nothing so much 
 as of ignorance ; but if any knowledge meriteth esteem for its 
 worth and usefulness, this next to that concerning Almighty 
 God, may surely best pretend thereto ; if any ignorance de- 
 serveth blame, this certainly is most liable thereto : to be stu- 
 dious in contemplating natural effects, and the causes whence 
 they proceed ; to be versed in the writings and stories of other 
 men's doings, to be pragmatical observers of what is said or 
 done without us (that which perchance may little concern, 
 little profit us to know) and in the meanwhile to be strangers 
 at home, to overlook what passeth in our own breasts, to be 
 ignorant of our most near and proper concernments, is a folly, 
 if any, to be derided, or rather greatly to be pitied, as the 
 source of many weighty inconveniences to us." 
 
 " A man by serious inspection into his own heart, shall dis- 
 cern how many fond, impure, and ugly thoughts do swarm 
 within him ; how averse his inclinations are from good, and 
 how prone to evil; how much his affections are misplaced 
 and distempered, (while he vehemently delights in the pos- 
 session, and absurdly frets for the want of trifles, having small 
 content in the fruition, and but slender displeasure for the 
 absence of the greatest goods ; while empty hopes exalt him, 
 
150 
 
 and idle fears deject him ; while other various passions, like 
 so many tempests, drive and toss him all about) who shall 
 observe, how clouds of darkness, error, and doubt, do hover 
 upon the face of his soul, so that he quickly taketh up opi- 
 nions, and soon layeth them down, and often turneth from one 
 mistake to another ; how unsettled his resolutions are, espe- 
 cially in the pursuance of the most desirable good, and what 
 corrupt mixtures cleave to his best purposes ; who taketh no- 
 tice how backward he is unto, and how cold in devotions to- 
 ward God, how little sensible of his goodness, or fearful .of his 
 displeasure ; how little also it is that he desireth, or delighteth 
 in the good, that he pitieth, and grieveth at the evil of his 
 neighbour ; he that doth, I say, frequently, and with heedful- 
 ness regard these imperfections and obliquities in his own 
 heart, how can he be much taken with himself?" 
 
 " Socrates is reported to have much admired the verse in 
 Homer, affirming, that in it the sum of all wisdom is comprised, 
 the sense and drift of it being this, (as he took it,) Seek and 
 study what good or bad is at home within thy house ; see how 
 all goes on in thy breast, employ thy chief inquiry upon the 
 affairs of thy soul, there confining thy curiosity and care." 
 
 " This practice will particularly fence us against immoderate 
 displeasure, occasionable by men's hard opinions, or rash cen- 
 sures passed upon us, for he that by inquiry into himself, 
 perceives so many defects in himself, will not so easily, nor so 
 greatly be offended, if some of them (or some like to them) be 
 objected to him, since he finds himself truly liable to many 
 more and greater. Epictetus, his advice is, when you are 
 told any man speaks ill of you, that you should not endeavour 
 to exculpate yourself, but answer only, that he was ignorant 
 of many other faults of yours, or he would not have mentioned 
 those only. To be disposed without dissembling, or self-de- 
 lusion, to follow this counsel, would prove a man very intimate 
 with himself, and well prepared to endure happily and hand- 
 
151 
 
 somely, encounters of this kind, which every man shall be 
 sure to meet with." 
 
 " This practice will likewise defend us, not only from the 
 irritation consequent to harsh censure, but also from the mis- 
 takes and miscarriages, to which the more favourable opinions 
 of men, or their flattering expressions (those luscious poisons,) 
 may expose us. The common nature of men inclines them to 
 be credulous when they are commended, or receive any signi- 
 fication of esteem from others. Every ear is tickled with the 
 sweet music of applause. But we are not to rely upon others, 
 their imperfect and ill-grounded judgment, so much as upon 
 our own more certain knowledge concerning ourselves. Take 
 no mans word before thine own sense, in what concerns thine 
 own case and character, is an advice deserving our regard and 
 practice. For that man, who in questions of this kind, is able 
 to be a skilful and indifferent umpire between himself and 
 others; who is neither elevated nor depressed in mind by 
 external weights, but keepeth himself equally poised in a just 
 balance by his own well-informed Conscience ; whose heart is 
 neither exasperated with the bitterest gall of reproach, nor his 
 head intoxicated with the sweetest potion of flattery, has a 
 degree of virtue, arguing a most strong and healthful consti- 
 tution of soul." Barrow. 
 
 Repentance) Compunction, Contrition, Remorse, Atonement, 
 
 Expiation. 
 
 Some men the more easily yield to their untoward inclina- 
 tions, because they do not consider the probable extent of the 
 evil consequences of doing so. Others wilfully abandon them- 
 selves to their most inordinate desires, preferring (at the mo- 
 ment) to encounter all risks, rather than suffer the present 
 uneasiness of restraining them. They enjoy, for a time, the 
 feast they have thus provided for themselves ; but the day of 
 reckoning arrives, and with it other feelings and other opinions 
 
152 
 
 succeed. Either worldly disappointments, or bodily suffer- 
 ings, or the experience of the vanity and vexation of a sinful 
 life, awakens the fear of future punishments, and torments 
 them with the sharp pangs of remorse. They recollect the 
 advantages they have wasted, and groan under the evils they 
 have wantonly incurred. Suffering more or less acutely from 
 having formerly indulged their irregular propensities, they 
 now feel disposed, not only to resist them, but earnestly de- 
 sire to expiate their sins, and this desire becoming paramount 
 to all others, they voluntarily seek the most severe mortifica- 
 tions both mental and bodily. They wound their pride by the 
 acknowledgment of their faults, they appropriate their wealth 
 to relieve the necessities of the indigent, and they who before 
 would not deny their body any ease or luxury that human art 
 could contrive to flatter the senses, now scourge it with re- 
 peated cruel stripes, and refuse to satisfy the cravings of its 
 most imperious appetites. It is by such means, they hope to 
 balance their moral accounts on this side the grave, and to pass 
 to their future destination in company with those, who have 
 little to reproach themselves with. The satisfaction that is 
 felt upon the adjusting of all affairs of conscience, whether be- 
 tween man and man, or between man and his Creator, must, 
 of course, be always proportionate to his belief of having more 
 or less duly filled up the measure of Atonement, and thus so far 
 Expiated his faults. 
 
 Reason, Faith. 
 
 " Reason, as contra-distinguished to Faith, I take to be the 
 discovery of the certainty or probability of such propositions 
 or truths, which the mind arrives at by deductions made from 
 such ideas, as it has got by the use of its natural faculties. 
 
 " Faith, on the other side, is the assent to any proposition, 
 not thus made out by the deduction of reason, but upon the 
 credit of the proposer, as coming from God, in some extraor- 
 
153 
 
 dinary way of communication. This way of discovering truths 
 to man, we call Revelation." 
 
 " Reason is natural revelation, whereby the eternal Father 
 of light, and fountain of all knowledge, communicates to man- 
 kind that portion of truth, which he has laid within the reach 
 of their natural faculties. Revelation is natural reason en- 
 larged by a new set of discoveries, communicated by God 
 immediately, which reason vouches the truth of, by the testi- 
 mony and proofs it gives, that they come from God." 
 
 " Whatever proposition is revealed, of whose truth, our 
 mind, by its natural faculties and notions cannot judge, that is 
 purely matter of faith and above reason." 
 
 Enthusiasm 9 Extasy. 
 
 " We see that in all ages men, in whom melancholy has 
 mixed with devotion, or whose conceit of themselves, has raised 
 them into an opinion of a greater familiarity with God, and a 
 nearer admittance to his favour than is afforded to others, 
 have often flattered themselves with a persuasion of an imme- 
 diate intercourse with the Deity, and frequent communications 
 from the divine Spirit, and whatsoever odd action they find in 
 themselves a strong inclination to do, that impulse is concluded 
 to be a call or direction from Heaven and must be obeyed ; it 
 is a commission from above, and they cannot err in executing 
 it. This I take to be properly, Enthusiasm." 
 
 Extasy, implies a state of mind in which it is absorbed in 
 the contemplation of ideas, that excite the highest degree of 
 emotion in the soul, from whatever cause proceeding. 
 
 True or Abstract Virtue and Vice, or Moral Right and 
 
 Wrong. 
 
 Man, from his earliest infancy, betrays intelligence, sensi- 
 bility, and volition. He distinguishes kindness from harshness, 
 
154 
 
 justice from injustice, reasonable from capricious interference, 
 &c. he feels pleased and satisfied with the one, and displeased 
 and dissatisfied with the other, and these opposite feelings 
 excite in him the will or desire, to express his gratitude in the 
 one case, and his resentment in the other. Such, it is evident, 
 are the workings of nature in him, and consequently, he as 
 necessarily entertains these notions and feelings, and acts ac- 
 cordingly, as he breathes or moves, and therefore cannot be 
 considered either virtuous or vicious, until his reason arrive at 
 such a degree of maturity, as to qualify him to distinguish and 
 judge of the consequences of his actions. Being then able to 
 trace effects to their proper causes, he is induced to consider 
 ijn what manner, his general conduct is likely to influence his 
 Happiness, and he soon perceives that some of his actions tend 
 t6 procure him good, others evil, of various sorts and degrees; 
 and this discovery leads him, more or less carefully to exa- 
 mine, how far he can consider himself justified in yielding to 
 his various propensities. Having adopted certain opinions 
 respecting the advantages or disadvantages consequent upon 
 the indulgence or restraint of his wishes, he subsequently, 
 upon the experience of good or evil, feels conscious that he 
 merits the ease or pleasure he enjoys, or deserves the uneasi- 
 ness or pain he suffers, or that he possesses comforts he can- 
 not justly claim as his due, or suffers annoyances not imputable 
 to his own vice or folly. We find children very early capable 
 of comprehending the reasonableness of subjecting themselves 
 to moral discipline ; but knowing how often we ourselves swerve 
 from our best resolutions, we make proportionable allowances 
 for the unsteadiness of youth. 
 
 God having endowed us with reason and judgment, where- 
 with to profit by experience, in order to determine what va- 
 rious modes of conduct are likely, upon the whole, to secure 
 to us the greatest degree of eventual good, and to protect us 
 from the greatest degree of eventual evil, we call these various 
 
155 
 
 modes, Virtues. Thus one mode of conduct is the practice 
 of what we call justice, another of fidelity, another of charity, 
 &c. and by adopting the opposites to these, we, of course, be- 
 come unjust, unfaithful, and uncharitable, and all such we de- 
 nominate Vices. To give to every one strictly his due, is 
 justice ; to bestow with kindness upon the needy a reasonable 
 proportion of one's wealth, to sympathize with the afflicted, 
 and to forbear evil speaking, seems to be charity ; and to do 
 most strictly as we would be done by, when entrusted with the 
 concerns of others, is we suppose fidelity. These terms so 
 applied, express the notions men have entertained of virtue or 
 moral right, since the days of Joseph and his brethren to the 
 present hour, and which are therefore called True Virtue, or 
 Moral Right, in the Abstract. 
 
 But in what sense men may severally interpret, the strictly 
 doing justice, the being charitable, or faithful, is quite another 
 question. No one can deny that justice is the giving to each 
 man strictly his due, yet few would perhaps agree upon the 
 point, of what that due strictly was. True or Abstract Virtue 
 and Vice, or Moral Right and Wrong, therefore, we appro-- 
 hend to be, those notions men in general entertain, that cer- 
 tain modes of conduct are as conformable to the intentions of 
 their Maker, as others are contrary to them ; and having de- 
 rived these notions from the active exercise of their reason, 
 continually directed by experience, and both reason and expe- 
 rience being of an immutable nature, we find Solomon, Socrates, 
 and Cicero, to have all agreed in what True Virtue consists. 
 
 Arbitrary Virtue and Vice, or Moral Right and Wrong, 
 
 " All names being imposed to signify our conceptions, and all 
 our affections being but conceptions, when we conceive the 
 same things differently, we can hardly avoid different meanings 
 of them. Since, though the nature of what we conceive be 
 the same, yet the diversity of our reception of it, in respect of 
 
156 
 
 different constitutions of body, and prejudices of opinion, gives 
 every thing a tincture of our different passions, and therefore 
 in reasoning, a man must take heed of words, which, besides 
 their proper signification, have a signification also of the cha- 
 racter, disposition, and interest of the speaker, such as are 
 the names of Virtues and Vices ; for one man calleth wisdom, 
 what another calleth fear ; and one cruelty, what another jus- 
 tice ; one prodigality, what another munificence, magnanimity, 
 &c"Hobbes. 
 
 Arbitrary Virtue and Vice, or Moral Right and Wrong, are 
 the peculiar notions men entertain upon those subjects, and 
 which are derived either from the exercise of their own rea- 
 son ; or from revelation ; or from the blind adoption of the 
 opinions of others : and how various these peculiar notions are, 
 may in some degree be imagined by those well acquainted with 
 the different established religions, and dissenters from them. 
 
 Peculiar notions of virtue and vice indeed, we believe, to 
 be nearly as numerous as the opinions entertained by each in- 
 dividual, upon each principal point of morality, that is to say, 
 two men would not often be found precisely to agree, upon 
 what it was right to do, in a case of any difficulty. 
 
 The Saviour of the world not only very repeatedly ex- 
 pressed his commands to us to practise justice, temperance, 
 charity, &c. but he enforced them in the strongest manner, by 
 giving us in his own conduct, the most perfect patterns of the 
 several virtues he inculcated ; yet necessarily, he still left it to 
 our own judgment, to determine by what means we can hope 
 most successfully to imitate his many bright examples, i. e. 
 how far we are called upon by our peculiar circumstances, to 
 do good to our neighbour, and in what way we can most effectu- 
 ally benefit him. Experience is the compass, and Reason the 
 pilot, that must steer us through so many shoals of false opi- 
 nions, every where abounding in the vast ocean of human life, 
 and safely land us where we may find Tnte Virtue, which can 
 
157 
 
 alone eventually secure not only our individual, but our na- 
 tional prosperity and glory. 
 
 " Virtue is not a mushroom, that springeth up of itself in 
 one night, when we are asleep, or regard it not ; but a deli- 
 cate plant, that groweth slowly and tenderly, needing much 
 pains to cultivate it, much care to guard it, much time to 
 mature it in our untoward soil, in this world's unkindly 
 climate : happiness is a thing too precious to be purchased at 
 an easy rate; Heaven is too high to be come at without 
 much climbing ; the crown of bliss is a prize too noble to be 
 won without a long and a tough conflict. Neither is Vice a 
 spirit that will be conjured down by a charm, or with a presto 
 driven away ; it is not an adversary that can be knocked down 
 at a blow, or dispatched with a stab. Whoever shall pretend 
 at any time easily with a celerity, by a kind of legerdemain, or 
 by any mysterious knack, a man may be settled in virtue, or 
 converted from vice, common experience will abundantly con- 
 fute him ; which sheweth, that a habit cannot (setting mira- 
 cles aside) otherwise be produced or destroyed, than by a con- 
 stant exercise of acts suitable or opposite thereto. He who 
 by temper is peevish or choleric, cannot without mastering 
 that temper, become patient or meek ; he who from vain opi- 
 nions is proud, cannot without subduing those opinions prove 
 humble ; he who by force of habit is intemperate, cannot 
 without weaning himself from that habit, come to be com- 
 monly sober, &c." 
 
 " It is a common practice of men, that are engaged in bad 
 courses, which their own conscience discerneth and disap- 
 proveth, to adjourn the reformation of their lives to a farther 
 time, so indulging themselves in the present commission of sin, 
 with the purpose and promise to themselves hereafter to repent 
 and take up. Few resolve to persist finally in an evil way, or de- 
 spair of being one day reclaimed, but immediately and effectu- 
 ally to set upon it, many deem unseasonable or needless ; it will, 
 
158 
 
 they presume, be soon enough to begin to-morrow or next day, 
 a month or a year hence, when they shall find more commo- 
 dious opportunity, or shall prove better disposed thereto : 
 but we may consider, that no future time which we can fix 
 upon, will be more convenient than the present is, for our re- 
 formation. Let us pitch on what time we please, we shall be as 
 unwilling and as unfit to begin as we are now ; we shall find in 
 ourselves the same indispositions, the same averseness, or the 
 same listlessness toward it as now. There will occur the like 
 hardships to deter us, and the like pleasures to allure us from 
 our duty ; objects will then be as present, and will strike as 
 smartly upon our senses ; and the same pretences for delay will 
 intrude themselves ; so that we shall be as apt then as now to 
 prorogue the business. We shall say then, to-morrow I will 
 mend, but when that morrow cometh, it will be still to-morrow, 
 and so the morrow will prove endless. If like the simple rustic, 
 (who stood by the river side waiting till it had done running, 
 that so he might pass dry foot over the channel) we do con- 
 ceive that the sources of sin (bad inclinations within, and 
 strong temptations abroad) will of themselves be spent or fail, 
 we shall find ourselves deluded. If ever we come to take up, 
 we must have a beginning with some difficulty and trouble ; 
 we must courageously break through the present with all its 
 enchantments." 
 
 " Vice enfeebles our reason, by perverting our will, by cor- 
 rupting our temper, by debasing our courage, by depraving all 
 our appetites and passions ; every day our mind groweth more 
 blind, our will more resty, our spirit more faint, our appetites 
 more fierce, our passions more headstrong and untameable. 
 The power and empire of sin do strangely by degrees en- 
 croach, and continually gain ground upon us, till it hath quite 
 overcome and enthralled us ; first, we learn to bear it, then 
 we come t6 like it, by and by we contract a friendship with it, 
 then we dote upon it, and at last, we become enslaved to it in 
 
159 
 
 a bondage, which we shall hardly be able, or find ourselves 
 willing, to shake off." 
 
 " Natural modesty, while it prevails, is a curb from doing 
 ill. Men in their first deflexions from virtue are bashful and 
 shy ; out of regard to other men's opinion, and tenderness of 
 their own honour, they are afraid or ashamed to transgress 
 plain rules of duty, but in process this disposition weareth 
 out; by little and little they, arrive to that character of the 
 degenerate Jews, whom the prophets call impudent children, 
 having a brow of brass, and faces harder than a rock ; so that 
 they commit sin with open face, and in broad day, without any 
 mask, without a blush ; they despise their own reputation, and 
 defy all censure of others ; they outface and outbrave the 
 world, till at length, with prodigious insolence, they come to 
 boast of wickedness and glory in their shame, as an instance 
 of high courage, and special gallantry." 
 
 " Conscience is a check to beginners in sin, reclaiming them 
 from it, and rating them for it ; but this in long standers be- 
 cometh useless, either failing to discharge its office, or essay- 
 ing it to no purpose, having often been slighted, it will be 
 weary of chiding ; or, if it be not wholly dumb, we shall be 
 deaf to its reproof; as those who live by cataracts or down- 
 falls of water, are by continual noise so deafened, as not to 
 hear or mind it; so shall we in time become insensible, not re- 
 garding the loudest peals and rattlings of the monitor within 
 us." 
 
 " Now, when any person is come to this pass, it must be 
 highly difficult to reduce him. To retrieve a lost modesty, to 
 quicken a jaded conscience, to supple a callous heart, to reset- 
 tle a baffled reason, to rear a dejected courage ; to recover 
 a soul miserably benumbed and broken, to its former vigour 
 and integrity, can be no easy matter." 
 
 ' The diseases of our soul no less than those of our body, 
 when once they are inveterate, they are become more incur- 
 
160 
 
 able; the longer we forbear to apply due remedy, the more 
 difficult their removal will prove ; if we let them proceed, we 
 must, ere we can be rid of them, undergo a course of physic 
 very tedious and offensive to us ; many a rough purge, many 
 a sore phlebotomy, many an irksome sweat we must endure." 
 
 " We should do well therefore most seriously to regard the 
 Apostle's monition ; exhort one another to day, while it is 
 catted to day, lest any of you be hardened by the deceitfulness 
 of sin. Besides, we are mortal and frail, and thence any de- 
 signs of future reformation may be clipt off, or intercepted by 
 death, which is always creeping toward us, and may for all we 
 can tell be very near at hand. You say you will repent to- 
 morrow, but are you sure you shall have to-morrow to repent 
 in. Have you an hour in your hand, or one minute at your 
 disposal ? Have you a lease to shew for any term of life ? 
 Can you claim or reckon upon the least portion of time with- 
 out His leave, who bestoweth life, and ordereth all things as 
 he pleaseth ? Rash man, boast not tlujself of to-morrow, for 
 thou knowest not what a day may bring forth." 
 
 " Epicurus himself said well, that no man is cither imma- 
 ture or over ripe in regard to his soul's health, we can never 
 set upon it too soon, we should never think it too late to be- 
 gin ; to live well is always the best thing we can do, and 
 therefore we should at any time endeavour it, there are 
 common reasons for all ages, there are special reasons for 
 each age, which most strongly and most clearly do urge it ; , it 
 is most seasonable for young men, it is most necessary for old 
 men, it is most advisable for all men." Barrow. 
 
 Good and Evil. 
 
 " Things are good and evil, only in reference to pleasure, 
 and pain. We call that Good, which is apt to cause or en- 
 crease pleasure, or dimmish pain in us : or else, to procure or 
 
161 
 
 preserve us the possession of any other good, or absence of any 
 evil. And, on the contrary, we name that Evil which is apt 
 to produce or increase any pain, or diminish any pleasure in 
 us, or else to procure us any evil, or deprive us of any good" 
 
 Moral Good and Evil. 
 
 " Moral good and evil is the conformity or disagreement of 
 our voluntary actions to some law, whereby good or evil is 
 drawn upon us by the will and power of the law-maker, and 
 this good or evil, or pleasure and pain, attending our ob- 
 servance, or breach of the law, is that we call reward and pu- 
 nishment." 
 
 Reward and Punishment. 
 
 " Of moral rules or laws, to which men generally refer, and 
 by which they judge of the rectitude or pravity of their ac- 
 tions, there seems to be three sorts, with their three different 
 enforcements, or Rewards and Punishments. For, since it 
 would be absurd to suppose a rule set to the free actions of 
 man, without annexing to it some enforcement of good and 
 evil to determine his will, we must, wherever we suppose a 
 law, suppose also some reward or punishment annexed to that 
 law. It would be vain for one intelligent being to set a rule 
 to the actions of another, if he had it not in his power to re- 
 ward the compliance with, or to punish the deviation from his 
 rule, by some good or evil, that was not the natural product 
 and consequence of the action itself, for that would operate of 
 itself without a law. This perhaps is the nature of all law." 
 
 " The laws to which men generally refer their actions in 
 order to judge of their rectitude or obliquity, seem to me to 
 be these three: 1. The Divine law. 2. The Civil law. 3. 
 The law of Opinion or Reputation if we may so call it. By 
 the relation they bear to the first of these, they judge whether 
 their actions are Sins or Duties ; by the second, whether they 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 are Criminal or Innocent; by the third, whether they are 
 Virtuous or Vicious." 
 
 " First. By the Divine law, I mean that law which God 
 has set to the actions of men, whether communicated to them 
 by the light of nature, or promulgated by the voice of revela- 
 tion ; and that he has given such a rule, whereby men should 
 govern themselves, there is no one, I think, so brutish as to 
 deny. He has left us free agents, given us faculties to distin- 
 guish right from wrong, and has power to enforce his law by 
 rewards and punishments of infinite weight and duration in 
 another life. This law then is the only true touchstone of 
 moral rectitude ; and men, by comparing their actions to it, 
 judge whether as duties or sins, they are like to procure them 
 happiness or misery from the hands of the Almighty.'* 
 
 " Secondly. The Civil law, or the rule set by the common- 
 wealth to the actions of those who belong to it, is another law 
 to which men refer their actions, to ascertain whether they are 
 criminal or no. This law no one overlooks ; the rewards and 
 punishments that enforce it being ready at hand, and suitable 
 to the power that makes it. The force of the commonwealth is 
 engaged to protect the lives, liberties, and possessions of those 
 who live according to its laws, and has power to take away 
 life, liberty, or goods, from him who disobeys them." 
 
 " Thirdly. The law of Opinion or Reputation. Virtue and 
 vice are names supposed every where to stand for actions 
 in their own nature right and wrong, and as far as they are 
 really so applied, they so far are co-incident with the divine 
 law before mentioned. But, whatever is pretended, yet it is 
 visible, that these names virtue and vice, in the particular 
 instances of their applications, through the several nations and 
 societies of men in the world, are constantly attributed only to 
 such actions, as in each country and society are in reputation 
 or discredit." 
 
 Nor is it to be thought strange, that men every where should 
 
163 
 
 give the name of virtue to those actions, which amongst them, 
 are judged praise-worthy; and call that vice, which they 
 count blameable : since otherwise, they would condemn them- 
 selves, should they think any thing right, to which they al- 
 lowed not commendation, or any thing wrong which they let 
 pass without censure. Thus, the measure of what is every 
 where called and esteemed virtue and vice, is the approbation 
 or dislike, praise or blame, which, by a secret and tacit con- 
 sent, establishes itself in the several societies, tribes and clubs 
 t>f men, in the world ; whereby several actions come to find 
 credit or disgrace amongst them, according to the judgment, 
 maxims, and fashions, of that place. For, though men unit- 
 ing into politic societies have resigned to the public the dis- 
 posing of all their force, so that they cannot employ it against 
 any fellow-citizens any farther than the law of the country di- 
 rects; yet they still retain the power of approving or disap- 
 proving of the actions of those whom they live amongst and 
 converse with ; and by this approbation and dislike, establish 
 amongst themselves what they will call virtue and vice." 
 
 " That this is the common measure of virtue and vice will 
 appear to any one who considers, that though that passes for 
 vice in one country which is counted a virtue, or at least not 
 vice in another, yet every where virtue and praise, vice and 
 blame go together, virtue is every where that which is thought 
 praiseworthy ; and that which has the allowance of public 
 esteem, is called virtue. Virtue and praise are indeed so 
 united, that they are often called by the same name." 
 
 " Men, without renouncing all sense and reason, could not 
 generally mistake in placing their commendation and blame on 
 that side, that really deserved it not. Nay, even those men 
 whose practice is otherwise, fail not to give their approbation 
 right, few being depraved to that degree, as not to condemn 
 in others, at least, deviations from the rule of right : whereby, 
 even in the corruption of manners, the true boundaries of the 
 
 M 2 
 
164 
 
 law of nature, which ought to be the measure of virtue and 
 vice, are pretty well preserved ; the exhortations of inspired 
 teachers have not feared to appeal to common repute, what- 
 soever is lovely, whatsoever is of good report ; if there be any 
 virtue, if there be any praise, &c." Phil. iv. 8. 
 
 " If any one shall imagine I have forgotten my own notion 
 of a law, when I make the law whereby men judge of virtue 
 and vice, to be nothing but the consent of private men, who 
 have not authority enough to frame a law, especially wanting 
 that which is so necessary and essential to a law, a power to 
 enforce it ; he who imagines commendation and disgrace not 
 to be strong motives to men, to suit their actions to the opi- 
 nions and rules of those with whom they converse, seem little 
 skilled in the nature or history of mankind ; a great part 
 whereof he shall find to govern themselves chiefly, if not solely 
 by the law of fashion ; and so they do that which keeps them 
 in reputation with their company, little regard the divine or 
 civil laws. The penalties which attend the breach of God's 
 laws, numbers of men seldom seriously reflect on ; and 
 amongst those that do, many whilst they break the law, en- 
 tertain thoughts of future reconciliation, and making their 
 peace for such breaches. As to the punishments due from 
 the laws of the commonwealth, they frequently flatter them- 
 selves with the hopes of impunity. But no man escapes the 
 punishment of censure, who offends against the fashion and 
 opinion of the company he keeps, and would recommend him- 
 self to ; and he must be of a strange and unusual constitution, 
 who can content himself to live in constant disgrace and dis- 
 repute with his own particular club. Solitude many men 
 have sought and been reconciled to, but no one who has the 
 least thought or sense of a man about him, can live in society 
 upon such terms. This is a burden too heavy for human suf- 
 ferance, and he must be made of irreconcileable contradictions, 
 who can take pleasure in company, and yet be insensible of 
 contempt and dislike from his companions." 
 
165 
 
 ** These three then, first the law of God, secondly, the law 
 of politic societies, thirdly, the law of fashion or private cen- 
 sure, are those to which men variously compare their actions ; 
 and it is by their conformity to one of these laws, that they 
 take their measures, when they would judge of the moral rec- 
 titude of their actions, and denominate them good and bad. 
 Thus, by what standard soever we frame in our minds, the 
 ideas of Virtue and Vice, the supposed rectitude or obli- 
 quity of our deeds consists in their agreement or disagreement 
 with those patterns, prescribed by some law, which law will 
 impose suitable Rewards and Punishments." 
 
 All communities of men, of course, frame the laws of their 
 commonwealth, and adopt such peculiar private opinions of 
 moral right and wrong, as are somewhat conformable with 
 their belief, of what may be the law of God. The Mussulman 
 and the Christian, for instance, entertain not a few very oppo- 
 site notions respecting the intentions of their Creator; the one 
 supposing he is commanded to live in charity with all men, the 
 other that he recommends himself to divine favour, by extir- 
 pating the followers of Christ. The Mahommedan and the 
 English laws too, will be found to differ as widely as the rules 
 of morality that regulate private commendation and censure, 
 amongst the individuals of the two nations. 
 
 Prejudice, Superstition. 
 
 Prejudices appear to us to be opinions not tenable by the 
 laws of reason. Just opinions may have been either adopted 
 from others, or derived from the proper exercise of our several 
 faculties. Liberal minds sometimes fondly cherish the most 
 ridiculous prejudices, but then they are tolerant towards those 
 who do not at all concur with them in opinion; whereas bigots 
 would fain confine the thoughts of all men within as narrow 
 limits as they do their own. The attachments we bear to our 
 
166 
 
 family, friends, country, place of residence, &c. do not, we 
 think, come properly under the class Prejudices. The more 
 attentively we observe nature in general, the more readily we 
 ,part with our prejudices, and yet continue to cling as closely 
 as ever to the objects of our domestic comforts, often perhaps 
 more so. The preference we feel towards them, is principally, 
 we suspect, the effect of habit, that inestimable friend, as well 
 as formidable foe to human happiness. 
 
 It is a prejudice to suppose, that the sun moves round the 
 world, that the Pope can grant indulgences, and innumerable 
 opinions little less irrational. 
 
 By leaving the mind open to conviction, we may discover 
 many advantages others, whether countrymen or foreigners, 
 have over us, by their management of those resources, both 
 nature and art have so bountifully supplied us with, and by 
 introducing these if suitable, where we have influence enough 
 to prevail, and being ever ready to communicate our know- 
 ledge of them when required to do so, we might not only re- 
 move many hurtful prejudices, but even greatly strengthen the 
 domestic attachments, by causing a great augmentation of 
 various sorts of comforts in families of the most moderate for- 
 tune. 
 
 " And when we divest ourselves of our Prejudices, we are 
 in the way to acquire a solid judgment of things in general, 
 we can see with our own eyes, and guide ourselves by our own 
 reason, not being led blindfold about, or depending preca- 
 riously on the conduct of others in matters of highest concern 
 to us. We are also exempted from giddy credulity, from 
 wavering levity, from fond admiration of persons and things, 
 being able to distinguish things, to settle our judgments 
 about them, and to get an intimate acquaintance with them, 
 assuring to us their true nature and worth. We are likewise 
 thereby rescued from over-weaning self-conceitedness." Bar- 
 row. 
 
167 
 
 " The Prejudiced are apt to converse but with one sort of 
 men, to read but one sort of books, to come in hearing but of 
 one sort of notions ; the truth is, they canton out to themselves 
 a little Goshen in the intellectual world, where light shines, 
 and as they conclude, day blesses them ; but the rest of the 
 vast expansum, they give up to night and darkness, and so 
 avoid coming near it. They confine themselves to some little 
 creek, not venturing out into the great ocean of knowledge, to 
 survey the riches that nature has stored other parts with, no 
 less genuine, no less solid, no less useful, than what is to be 
 found within their own little spot." 
 
 " To those who are willing to get rid of this great hindrance 
 of knowledge, I shall offer this one mark, whereby prejudice 
 may be known, He that is strongly attached to any opinion, 
 must suppose that his persuasion is built upon good grounds, 
 and that his assent is no greater, than what the evidence of 
 the truth he holds forces him to. Now if what he holds be as 
 he gives out, well fenced with evidence, why should he be shy 
 to have it tried, whether it be proof or not. If he refuse to 
 hear what is offered against it, he declares thereby, that it is 
 not the attainment of truth that he desires, but the quiet 
 enjoyment of the opinion he is fond of." 
 
 Prejudice takes the name of Superstition, when it is in any 
 way connected with the Deity, religion, angelic or infernal 
 spirits, or deceased persons, and is commonly accompanied 
 with a greater or less degree of awe. 
 
 The belief entertained of the suspension of Mahomet's 
 coffin between heaven and hell, &c. and numberless religious 
 ceremonies belonging to paganism, for instance, we call su- 
 perstitions ; and we call them so, because we believe them to 
 be contrary to the spirit of the Divine government of the 
 world. 
 
 Fanaticism. 
 
 The superstitious are apt to be, more or less, fanatical, 
 
168 
 
 i.e. to dream of inspirations or revelations from some spirit, 
 or from God himself. 
 
 Toleration, Bigotry. 
 
 The Tolerant, either from principle or indifference, do not 
 commonly estimate men by their religious or political opinions. 
 Too well aware of the fallibility of their own judgment, they 
 feel little disposed to quarrel with others about modes of faith. 
 
 Whereas the Bigotted, not only most tenaciously adhere 
 to their own opinions, however lightly adopted, but are apt 
 to think very harshly of such as entertain any doctrines con- 
 trary to their own tenets. This often renders them unjust 
 and merciless towards their fellow-creatures, and has given 
 rise to the most cruel persecutions recorded in history. 
 
 Credulity, Scepticism. 
 
 The Credulous readily receive the testimony and opinions 
 of others, without inquiring upon what authority they rest 
 their assurances, and are thus liable to adopt numberless erro- 
 neous notions. 
 
 The Sceptick, on the other hand, is so ridiculous, as to 
 refuse his assent to any degree of probability, though we have 
 a knowledge of many things, and some of them the most 
 essential to our well-being, fully as satisfactory as demonstra- 
 tion itself. 
 
 The rational believer takes the medium between these two 
 absurd extremes, he examines the foundations of his several 
 opinions, and rests satisfied with the various degrees of know- 
 ledge attainable by us, with our present very limited capacities. 
 
 " The understanding faculties being given to man, not 
 barely for speculation, but also for the conduct of life, he 
 would be at a great loss, if he had nothing to direct him, but 
 
169 
 
 what has the certainty of true knowledge. He who will not 
 eat till he has demonstration that it will nourish him ; he who 
 will not stir till he infallibly knows the business he goes about 
 will succeed ; will do little else than sit still and perish." 
 
 " Therefore, as God has set some things in broad day-light, 
 as he has given us some certain knowledge, though compara- 
 tively limited, and possibly as a taste of what intellectual crea- 
 tures are capable of, in order to excite in us a desire and 
 endeavour after a better state ; so in the greatest part of our 
 concernments, he has afforded us only twilight, as I may say, 
 or Probability, but suitable, I presume, to that state of pro- 
 bation he has been pleased to place us in here." 
 
170 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Volition, Desire, Wish. Liberty. Willing, Unwilling. Free Agency. Fatality. 
 Insurmountable and Arbitrary Necessity. Desire of Ease. Desire of Ease the 
 principal motive to action. Substance. Matter, Spirit. Real Existence. The 
 existence of a God. Piety. 
 
 Volition, Desire, Wish. 
 
 WE return to this subject, in order to examine it with the 
 attention it well deserves, and must crave the reader's pardon 
 for the repetition of a few words. 
 
 Volition, as we said before, seems to be an affection of the 
 soul or mind, consequent upon understanding and sensibility. 
 Having understanding to discern the differences between 
 things, and sensibility to render us susceptible of pleasure and 
 pain, and love and hatred, we must necessarily have volition to 
 prefer the one to the other, and to seek the one rather than 
 the other, or remain mere machines to be operated upon, 
 without being moved to operate upon any thing whatsoever. 
 
 The consideration of man as a free-agent, will lead us to 
 attempt proving, that volition, will, desire, and wish, are one 
 and the same affection of the mind, and that we are absolutely 
 determined to all our voluntary actions by the predominant 
 desire of the moment. 
 
 We say, we will, or desire, or wish, to move or remain at 
 rest, &c. but the consciousness of human weakness, seems to 
 have led men, very judiciously, to appropriate desire and 
 
171 
 
 wish more particularly to express the will to do if we could : 
 supposing, however, our power unlimited, these words might, 
 with perfect propriety, be used synonymously with the more 
 imperative term, Will. 
 
 Liberty. 
 
 The optional power the mind has to cause or prevent action 
 (either thinking or motion) in the man, suggests to us the idea 
 of Liberty ; so far, therefore, as we have the undisputed com- 
 mand of our several faculties, so far we consider ourselves free. 
 Without liberty, volition were but a vain endowment, a cruel 
 mockery. 
 
 Willing) Unwilling. 
 
 The expression, " acting Unwillingly," seems to denote the 
 acting contrary to the Will, (the opposite to volition) but a 
 careful examination of the manner in which this expression is 
 commonly applied, will serve perhaps, to prove to us more 
 forcibly than any other, how invariably the will determines the 
 man to action. 
 
 One man may, by various means, make another suffer bo- 
 dily pain, and also deprive him of his liberty, but cannot by 
 the application of any degree of force whatsoever, absolutely 
 compel him to action. He, therefore, that would move us to 
 make use of our operative faculties, 'must, if he would urge us 
 to comply with his wishes, endeavour to excite in us a desire 
 to obtain some good in his power to grant us, or to avoid 
 some evil, equally at his option to inflict upon us. Conse- 
 quently, when we say a man acts Unwillingly, or by compul- 
 sion, we speak of him as being under the influence of fear, 
 under the fear of losing some advantage he covets, or wishes 
 to retain ; or of suffering some pain or loss he dreads, and 
 determines if possible to ward off. Should he, however, prove 
 indifferent to the deprivation of any good, or to the endurance 
 
172 
 
 of any evil, he may be more or less easily deprived of his 
 liberty or of his life ; but no human contrivance could possi- 
 bly succeed in making him use his operative faculties ; that is 
 a power which rests only with Him who created man a free 
 agent and a responsible being. 
 
 We are said willingly to eat, study, travel, labour, &c. when 
 we do so from choice, without being under any immediate appre- 
 hension of the consequence of omission. Fear makes us some- 
 times act spontaneously or willingly, when we wish, for instance, 
 to escape from a pressing danger ; but if we be driven to a 
 choice of evils, we hesitate until we can determine which ap- 
 pears to us the most to be apprehended, or which we should 
 most desire to avoid, e. g. the amputation of a limb or death 
 may be the alternatives, in which case we are said unwillingly 
 to submit to amputation, though the fact is, we most earnestly 
 desire or will it, in order to escape a speedy death. Most 
 certainly we do not willingly lose our limb, but we are yet 
 more reluctant to part with life. Thus we suppose Will and 
 Desire to be one and the same affection of the mind. 
 
 Mr. Locke entertained a contrary opinion, but if he be in 
 an error, he was led into it by losing sight of what had most 
 particularly attracted his observation, " That man is in this 
 world distracted by various desires, and seeks to gratify the 
 most pressing of those judged at the time attainable." Yet 
 he says, " Will and Desire must not be confounded ; he that 
 shall turn his thoughts inwards upon what passes in his mind, 
 when he wills, shall see that the will or power of volition is 
 conversant about nothing but that particular determination of 
 the mind, whereby, barely by a thought, the mind endeavours 
 to give rise, continuation, or stop, to any action which it takes 
 to be in its power. This, well considered, plainly shews, that 
 the will is perfectly distinguished from desire, which in the 
 very same action may have a quite contrary tendency from that 
 which our will sets us upon, A man whom I cannot deny may 
 
173 
 
 oblige me to use persuasions to another, which, at the same 
 time I am speaking, I may wish not to prevail on him. In this 
 place it is plain the will and desire run counter. I will the 
 action that tends one way, whilst my desire tends another, and 
 that the direct contrary way. A man, who by a violent fit of 
 gout in his limbs, finds a dizziness in his head, or a want of 
 appetite in his stomach removed, desires to be eased too of the 
 pain of his feet or hands (for wherever there is pain there is 
 desire to be rid of it), though yet, whilst he apprehends that 
 the removal of the pain may translate the noxious humour to 
 a more vital part, his will is never determined to any one action 
 that may serve to remove the pain ; wherefore it is evident, that 
 Desiring and Willing are two distinct acts of the mind" 
 
 But we will here closely examine the probable workings of 
 the human niind under such and similar circumstances. A. 
 desires B. to solicit a pension for him ; B. must have a mo- 
 tive to comply with his request, either the wish to oblige or 
 the desire of a pecuniary reward, &c. If the money be pro- 
 mised for merely making the application, it is very possible B, 
 may not be desirous of prevailing, but should success be made 
 the condition of its being paid, he will then desire to ask as ear- 
 nestly as if the pension were for himself. And is it not by 
 bribery many a man is brought to do a foul deed, he would 
 not otherwise stain his hands with ? 
 
 " 1st Villain. How uost them feel thyself now? 
 
 2d Vil. Some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me. 
 
 1st Vil. Remember the reward when the deed's done. 
 
 2d Vil. Come, he dies I had forgot the reward. 
 
 1st Vil. Where's thy conscience now ? 
 
 2d Vil. O, in the Duke of Glocester's purse. 
 
 1st Vil. When he opens his purse to give us our reward thy conscience flies out." 
 
 The gouty man most assuredly desires ease, but, if he de- 
 sire life yet more, he will and desires to reject any remedy pro- 
 posed, that he suspects may eventually endanger his existence; 
 
174 
 
 but, should he desire ease at all risks, he will in that case ea- 
 gerly demand relief. 
 
 Again, A. is promised a pardon on condition that he be- 
 tray his accomplice ; and he may thus be induced unwillingly 
 to speak, *. e. provided his paramount desire be to save his 
 Own life, the fear of being executed it is that will cause 
 him to speak. But should he be afterwards reproached for 
 betraying his friend, we shall then find him perhaps becoming 
 his own executioner, very unwillingly it is certain, but still he 
 will destroy himself, if the fear of living to be the scorn and 
 outcast of his former associates prove stronger than his love of 
 life. He prefers death to dragging on what he considers a 
 miserable existence deprived of their countenance and support. 
 Such inconsistency of conduct is not without example, and we 
 think can be fully accounted for as above ; but the generality 
 of men would, under such circumstances, still more desire 
 life or dread death than apprehend any uneasiness they might 
 suffer from exile, or the general desertion of their comrades. 
 
 Thus we find that acting unwillingly means in fact only 
 that we act under the impression of fear, not that we do not 
 act according to our desire, for most certainly we desire to 
 act as we do in all such cases, from the fear of suffering a 
 greater evil, by not submitting to what we consider, at the mo- 
 ment, a lesser. Do we pay a visit unwillingly, we fear to give 
 offence ; do we study unwillingly, we fear either punishment 
 of some sort, or a state of ignorance ; do we perform any of 
 our moral obligations unwillingly, we stand in awe of Divine 
 displeasure or human authority. When we act unwillingly, 
 therefore, we act with hesitation from there being a choice to 
 make ; but when we act willingly, we act, on the contrary, 
 spontaneously, and often indeed inconsiderately. Will and 
 desire we therefore conclude to be absolutely synonymous 
 terms. 
 The thing that most excites our sensibility at the moment 
 
175 
 
 would in fact determine every act of our life, but for our rea- 
 son, which can alone keep a proper check upon our desires. 
 If honestly consulted, it tells us which of them we may safely 
 or advantageously gratify, and to what degree, and which we 
 ought altogether to subdue ; it suggests to us also the proba- 
 ble means of doing it, likewise the seasons to be active, and 
 when to suspend our operations, lest we fail of our object by 
 too great precipitancy or delay. But our reason even cannot 
 prevail with us but by exciting our desires, since if it fail to 
 make us more earnestly desire to obtain the good we have in 
 view, or to avoid the evil it warns us of, than to desire to pur- 
 sue our present object, we persevere in spite of its admoni- 
 tions, and thus it happens that our opinions and practice are 
 so often at variance ; all men, for instance, desire health, but 
 how many are there who yet more desire to indulge propensi- 
 ties in some way prejudicial to it, and so turn a deaf ear to 
 the loudest predictions of our noblest faculty. 
 
 " Great strife in my divided breast I find, 
 A will consenting, yet unwilling mind." 
 
 Our reason invites us to do what is good for us, our desires 
 prompt us to gratify the present inclination. 
 
 The struggles in the mind between virtue and vice are no 
 other, in fact, than the struggles for empire between reason 
 or conscience and desire. If reason or conscience sanction the 
 indulgence of our desires there is no hesitation, but when they 
 urge us to resist our inclinations, the less reason or conscience 
 have been accustomed to yield, the greater the resistance they 
 will make, and thus it happens that persons, the least practised 
 in vice, entertain the most scruples upon every proposed devia- 
 tion from right ; but whether a man be reasonable or unrea- 
 sonable, virtuous or vicious, his paramount desire of the mo- 
 ment (it appears to us) invariably determines him to action. 
 
 Even animals, if they cannot be allured to desire some- 
 
176 
 
 thing we offer to them, or be made to fear some pain we 
 threaten them with, defy our utmost power to compel them to 
 act ; and thus one man, it is said, can lead a horse to water 
 (not, however, contrary to his will), but twenty cannot make 
 him drink. 
 
 By making the actions of the creature to depend entirely 
 upon the mind, a merciful Providence seems to have given man 
 an unquestionable intimation that he is destined to rule not by 
 force, but by kindness, since kindness strengthens as much as 
 harshness weakens the power he has communicated to him over 
 all the animal creation. Kindness engages the whole crea- 
 ture, mind and body, in our service, whereas harshness often 
 causes it to avoid or escape, when possible, from our presence, 
 or to give us a sensible proof of its resentment. 
 
 Free-agency. 
 
 From the consideration of the power man has to think or 
 not to think with perseverance upon any particular subject, to 
 move or not to move any part of the body, is derived the idea 
 we have of free-agency, which concerns man's responsibility 
 to God, and man with relation to his Creator we call a free- 
 agent. All animals have liberty and instinct man, free- 
 agency and reason. 
 
 Fatality. 
 
 The irrevocable decrees of heaven, with respect to man's 
 destiny is termed Fatality ; it is opposed to free-agency, and 
 expresses its non-existence, for example, man, if he live, is 
 fated to grow old, and finally to die. 
 
177 
 
 Insurmountable and Arbitrary Necessity. 
 
 Necessity is opposed to liberty, and denotes the absence of 
 it. But there are two distinct kinds of necessity, the one in- 
 surmountable, the other arbitrary. The interference is equally 
 imperious in both cases for the time being, but the insurmount* 
 able necessity is sometimes synonymous with fatality, whereas the 
 arbitrary, as the word implies, we find to be often of very un- 
 certain operation. A man, for example, if he would long 
 continue his existence, must absolutely and of necessity nou- 
 rish his body, and sleep, such is the law of nature; but he may 
 be placed under the force of necessity by human agency, and 
 thus be made either conditionally or unconditionally to suffer in- 
 convenience, pain, or death. This sort of necessity however may 
 be of longer or shorter duration, because it depends upon the 
 will and pleasure of a mortal, ever prone to change his pur- 
 poses, and liable to innumerable accidents, e. g. he whom his 
 ruler dooms to perpetual imprisonment may, by the lenity, or 
 caprice, or removal, or by the death of that ruler, find him- 
 self released from it, which proves the duration of this sort of 
 necessity to be truly arbitrary. 
 
 Man can place almost every kind of animal under the force 
 of necessity ; he can place it, for instance, under the necessity 
 of remaining in confinement ; he can likewise approach or se- 
 parate certain physical bodies, and thus infinitely check or vary 
 many of their operations, but their operations being determined 
 by fixed laws, they must of necessity produce certain effects. 
 
 Voluntary, Involuntary. 
 
 In those cases, in which the exercise both of the mental 
 and corporeal powers are sometimes optional, sometimes inde- 
 pendent of the will, we use the terms Voluntary and Involun- 
 tary. Every act done according to the determination of the 
 will is said to be voluntary ; all acts that are independent of 
 
 -^\O)c 
 
 nF THE 
 
178 
 
 the will, involuntary; such, for instance, as yawning, winking of 
 the eyes, and many other movements of the body as well as 
 thoughts of the mind. 
 
 Man cannot be responsible for his involuntary acts, he hav- 
 ing no free-agency therein, but for all those that are voluntary 
 he must apprehend himself accountable to his Maker. 
 
 Compulsion, Restraint. 
 
 When the beginning or continuation of any action is re- 
 quired contrary to the will, it is called Compulsion; and the pre- 
 venting or checking any action, Restraint : and these are the 
 two principal modifications of necessity, both insurmountable 
 and arbitrary. Nature compels and restrains us upon many 
 occasions. Man can easily restrain ; but, as we have before 
 said, though he can compel all animals to remain in confine- 
 ment, or to suffer pain or death, yet he cannot compel them to 
 act, unless he succeed in exciting their fears of his power, to 
 make them suffer for their resistance. 
 
 So far as we have an option, so far we are at liberty, as we 
 said before ; but where no option is left us, there we are im- 
 mediately under the force of necessity ; but sometimes we are 
 placed only under the necessity of making a choice ; we are 
 compelled, for instance, finally to die, but we have the option 
 of hastening our death or not: in like manner a man may 
 inhabit a country or not, but, by inhabiting it, he will be com- 
 pelled to submit to its laws, or b restrained from repeatedly 
 violating theip. TJius when we speak of civil and religious 
 liberty, we mean the degree of liberty allowed to man by the 
 civil and ecclesiastical laws, which, in different countries and 
 in different periods, impose a greater or less degree of compul- 
 sion and restraint upon the subject; but we sliall find that hu- 
 man power is, without an exception, as a vain shadow, when it 
 would compel that man to act who braves torture and death. 
 
179 
 
 To Act Mechanically. 
 
 To act mechanically is to act without being conscious of the 
 direction or concurrence of the will, though doubtless the will 
 consents as the same person who inattentively does, or agrees to 
 do a thing of little or no importance, would doubtless immediately 
 have his attention roused by the demand of a large sum of 
 money, or his daughter in marriage, &c. But sometimes the 
 mind is so forcibly engaged by a book, or an interesting sub- 
 ject of contemplation, as to allow the body to suffer consider- 
 able distress for want of a timely change of posture. There 
 are probably few persons who have not experienced the truth 
 of both these observations. 
 
 Desire of Ease, or Relief from Present Pain. 
 
 All men desire ease, not only in proportion to their suffer- 
 ings, but also according to their character and present state of 
 mind and body ; for some persons are at all times much more im- 
 patient under pain than others ; and the same persons more or 
 less so at different times. This impatience often causes them 
 to desire immediate relief, even at the very probable risk of 
 incurring yet greater evils ; and thus it happens likewise that a 
 man often will not deny himself a pleasure he covets, or sub- 
 mit to continue an effort which is irksome to him, though it be 
 to purchase considerable future advantages. The desire of plea- 
 sure is the desire of experiencing a lively enjoyment of some sort; 
 the desire of ease, the desire of relief from pain. The man 
 who desires pleasure may be equally satisfied with the amuse- 
 ment of reading, as of listening to music, &c. but he who suf- 
 fers is not to be soothed but by the positive alleviation of the 
 pain that at the moment distresses him. The desire of ease, 
 as it is the most universal and frequent feeling we have, so is it 
 
 N 2 
 
180 
 
 that which most forcibly demands the regulation of our rea- 
 son, since the desire of ease might induce us to take a medi- 
 cine eventually fatal to us, to relinquish an employment which 
 would obtain us independence, to seek a pleasure destructive 
 to our future health and peace, &c. 
 
 The consideration of this subject seems therefore particu- 
 larly connected with education and government, because it is 
 not in our nature, seemingly, long quietly to support that state 
 of uneasiness we believe practicable to avoid ; consequently, 
 whatever laws or discipline are calculated continually, or even 
 frequently, to irritate the human mind must necessarily be very 
 contrary to a willing, steady, and cheerful obedience. 
 
 The following distinction, we imagine, may be made be- 
 tween the desire of Ease and the desire of Happiness ; that 
 the one induces us to regulate our actions by our feelings, the 
 other by our reason. Mr. Locke has treated this subject 
 with his wonted sagacity and perspicuity. 
 
 Desire of Ease the principal Motive to Action. 
 
 Upon considering the general conduct of human life we 
 shall find, " That we are far more frequently and more power- 
 fully stimulated to action by actual suffering or the apprehen- 
 sion of pain, than by the allurements of pleasure ; whence it 
 it is, that though the motive for continuing in the same state 
 of action is commonly the present satisfaction in it, yet the 
 motive to change most commonly arises from Uneasiness." 
 
 " All men desire happiness. Happiness and misery are the 
 names of two extremes, the utmost bounds whereof we know 
 not it is what, "eye hath not seen, ear not heard, nor hath it 
 entered into the heart of man to conceive." But of some de- 
 grees of both we have very lively impressions, made by several 
 instances of delight and joy, on the one side, and of torment 
 and sorrow on the other; and which, for brevity's sake, we 
 shall comprehend under the names of Pleasure and Pain ; 
 
181 
 
 there being pleasure and pain of the mind 'as well as of the 
 body: "with him is fulness of joy and pleasure evermore;" 
 or, to speak correctly, they are all of the mind, though some 
 have their rise in the mind from thought, others in the body 
 from sensation." 
 
 " Happiness then, in its fullest extent, is the utmost pleasure 
 we are capable of, and misery the utmost pain; and the lowest 
 degree of what can be called happiness is so much ease from 
 all pain as is necessary to content. Now because pleasure 
 and pain are, in different degrees, concomitant with our per- 
 ception of the various objects by which we are surrounded, 
 whatever object has an aptness to produce pleasure in us, is 
 that we call Good, and whatever is apt to produce pain, we 
 call Evil, for no other reason but for its aptness to produce 
 pleasure and pain in us, wherein consists our happiness and 
 misery. It is moreover to be observed, that though what is 
 apt to produce any degree of pleasure be in itself good, and 
 what is apt to produce any degree of pain be evil, yet it often 
 happens that we do not call it so, when it comes in competi- 
 tion with a greater of its sort; because, when they come in 
 competition, the degrees also of pleasure and pain have justly 
 a preference. So that, if we will rightly estimate what we call 
 good and evil, we shall find it lies much in comparison; for the 
 cause of every diminution of pain, as well as every increase of 
 pleasure has the nature of good, and vice versa" 
 
 " Good and evil, absent as well as present, work upon the 
 mind ; but that which immediately determines us, from time to 
 time, to every voluntary action, is the uneasiness of desire fixed 
 on some absent good, either negative, as repose to one in pain ; 
 or positive, as enjoyment of pleasure. That it is this uneasi- 
 ness that induces the successive voluntary actions, whereof the 
 greatest part of our lives is made up, and by which we are 
 conducted through different courses to different ends, J shall 
 endeavour to shew, both from experience and the reason of the 
 thing." 
 
182 
 
 " Though happiness be the universal aim, yet the pursuit of 
 it is as various as the constitution, habits, and age, of the per- 
 sons seeking it, and thus each man being moved by his pre- 
 valent desires, his faculties will be directed to the attainment 
 of those things only, he considers at that time to make a ne- 
 cessary part of his individual happiness. All other good, how- 
 ever great in reality or appearance, excites not a man's desires 
 who looks not on it, to form a part of that happiness where- 
 with he in his present thought can satisfy himself. Happiness 
 under this view every one constantly pursues, and desires 
 what makes any part of it ; other things acknowledged to be 
 good he can look upon without desire, pass by, and be con- 
 tent without. There is no one perhaps so senseless as to deny 
 that there is pleasure in knowledge, and for the pleasures of 
 sense they have too many followers to let it be questioned, whe- 
 ther men are taken with them or no. Now let one man place 
 his satisfaction in sensual pleasure, another in the delight of 
 knowledge, though each of them cannot but confess there is 
 great pleasure in what the other pursues, yet neither of them 
 making the other's delight a part of his happiness, their de- 
 sires are not excited, but each is satisfied without what the 
 other enjoys, and so he is not determined to the pursuit of it. 
 But as soon as the studious man's hunger and thirst make him 
 uneasy, he whose desire was never moved by any allurements 
 of good cheer, delicious wines, &c. is, by the uneasiness of 
 hunger and thirst, presently determined to eating and drinking, 
 though possibly with great indifferency, what wholesome food 
 comes in his way; and, on the other side, the epicure buckles 
 to study when shame, or the desire to recommend himself to 
 his mistress, shall make him uneasy in the want of any sort 
 of knowledge." 
 
 " Let a drunkard find that his health decays, his estate 
 wastes, discredit and diseases, and the want of all things, even 
 of his beloved drink, attend him in the course he follows, still 
 
183 
 
 the returns of uneasiness at missing his companions and the 
 habitual thirst after his cups, drives him at the usual time to the 
 tavern, though he at the same time admits, that the pleasures 
 of health and plenty are far preferable to the tickling of his 
 palate with a glass of wine, or the idle chat of a soaking club. 
 His perseverance in vice is not for want of considering the 
 greater good, which, in the intervals of his drinking hours, he 
 will make resolutions to pursue, but, on the return of his un- 
 easiness, at the want of his accustomed delight, the greater 
 acknowledged good loses its hold, and the present uneasiness 
 determines him to the wonted action, and thereby gets stronger 
 footing to prevail against the next occasion." 
 
 (t How many are to be found who, though they have had 
 lively representations made to them of the unspeakable joys of 
 heaven, and of which they acknowledge it not only possible, but 
 even probable, that the virtuous will partake, yet still allow the 
 prevailing uneasinesses of their desires, let loose, after the en- 
 joyments of this life, to take their turns in diverting them 
 from the attainment of eternal happiness. If therefore the 
 greater good in view the most powerfully excited our desires, 
 this infinitely greatest good once proposed, could not but seize 
 the mind, and hold it steady to the contemplation of it." 
 
 " Now though even the everlasting incomprehensible good 
 itself cannot stedfastly hold the mind, yet any very great and 
 prevailing uneasiness having once seized it, lets it not go, 
 whence we may be convinced what it is, that determines us to 
 action. Thus any vehement pain of the body, the ungovern- 
 able passion of a man violently in love, or the impatient emo- 
 tion of revenge, keeps the mind intent, and any desire thus 
 strongly excited never allows the understanding to layby 
 the object, but directs all the thoughts of the mind and the 
 powers of the body, uninterruptedly, to the removal of the 
 prevailing uneasiness; and whether this be not so every one 
 may observe in himself." 
 
184 
 
 " It is evident then, that the greater visible good does not 
 always raise men's desires in proportion to the greatness it ap- 
 pears, and is acknowledged to have ; and were it otherwise, 
 we should be constantly and infinitely miserable, there being- 
 infinite degrees of happiness not attainable by us. All unea- 
 siness being removed, a moderate portion of good serves at 
 present to content men, and some few degrees of pleasure in 
 a succession of ordinary enjoyments, make up a happiness 
 wherewith they can be tolerably satisfied. If this were not so, 
 there could be no room for those indifferent and visibly trifling 
 actions to which we are so often determined, and wherein we 
 voluntarily waste so much of our lives, which remissness could 
 by no means consist with a constant desire of the greatest ap- 
 parent good. The ordinary necessities of our lives fill a great 
 part of them with the uneasinesses of hunger, thirst, heat, cold, 
 weariness, with labour and sleepiness, &c. all in their constant 
 returns. To which if, besides accidental harms, we add those 
 fantastical ones after honour, power, riches, &c. that habits 
 acquired by fashion, example, and education, have settled 
 in us, we shall find that a very small part of our life is so va- 
 cant from these uneasinesses as to leave us free to the attrac- 
 tion of remoter absent good ; for no sooner is one action de- 
 spatched, which by the determination of our desire we were 
 bent upon, than another uneasiness is ready at hand to set us 
 again on work. Few people need go far from home to be 
 convinced of this truth." 
 
 " But there being in us a great many uneasinesses always 
 soliciting, and ready to determine us to action, it is natural, as 
 I have said, that the greatest and most pressing should prevail, 
 and so it does for the most part, but not always : for the mind 
 having in most cases, as is evident in experience, a power to 
 suspend the satisfaction of any of its desires, it is free to con- 
 sider the objects of them, examine them on all sides, and 
 weigh them with others. In this lies the free-agency man has, 
 
185 
 
 and from the not making a proper use of it, comes all the va- 
 riety of mistakes, errors, and faults so apparent in the course 
 of his life. Upon the forbearance of a too hasty compliance 
 with our desires, so that our understanding may be free to 
 examine, and reason unbiassed, give its judgment, depends 
 the right direction of our conduct to true happiness." 
 
 " As a man therefore may suspend the act of his choice till 
 he has examined, whether it be likely to be attended with con- 
 sequences calculated to promote his welfare, or to bring evil 
 upon him, we may see how it comes to pass that he may justly 
 incur punishment, though it be certain that, in the first instance, 
 he desires, and must unavoidably desire, that which then occu- 
 pies his mind; and though he be determined, even by that 
 which is judged good by his understanding, yet it excuses him 
 not, if he by a too hasty decision has imposed on himself wrong 
 measures of good and evil. If he vitiate his palate, he must 
 be answerable to himself for the sickness and death that follow 
 from it. The eternal law and nature of things will not be 
 altered to comply with his ill-ordered choice. If, by the neg- 
 lect or abuse of the freedom he had to examine, what would 
 really and truly make for his happiness, and with experience 
 for his guide he is misled, the miscarriage must, and ought to 
 be imputed to his own election. He had a power to suspend 
 his determination; and this power was given him that he 
 might examine and take care of his own happiness, and look 
 that he were not deceived ; and he could never judge that it 
 was better to be deceived than not, in a matter of so great 
 concernment to himself." 
 
 " But to account more particularly for the misery that men 
 often bring upon themselves, notwithstanding that they in ear- 
 nest pursue happiness, we must consider how things come by 
 our desires to be represented to us under deceitful appear- 
 ances, and thus induce wrong judgments in us." 
 
 " Not only present pleasures and pains, but likewise the 
 
186 
 
 consideration of the consequences the^ are likely to bring 
 upon us at a distant day, are apt to move a creature that has 
 foresight ; therefore things as they draw after them pleasure or 
 pain, are also considered as good and evil, e. g. a thing may 
 excite a temporary pleasurable sensation, and yet bring death ; 
 or a painful one, yet preserve life, &c. The wrong judgment 
 which misleads us, and makes us often fasten on the worse side, 
 lies in misreporting upon the various comparisons made. The 
 wrong judgment I am here speaking of, is not what one man 
 may think of the determination of another, but what every 
 man himself must confess to be wrong. Since I suppose it 
 certain, that every intelligent being really seeks happiness, 
 which consists in the enjoyment of the most durable pleasures, 
 with the least mixture of pain." 
 
 " Present pleasure and pain the mind can easily appreciate ; 
 for that which is the greatest pleasure, or the greater pain 
 is really just as it is felt. But, though present pleasure and 
 pain shew their differences and degrees so plainly, as not to 
 leave room for mistake, yet, when we compare present plea- 
 sure or pain with future (which comparison is usually made 
 previous to our most important determinations) we often make 
 wrong judgments of them, by taking our measures of them as 
 they appear to us at a distance. Objects near our view are 
 apt to be thought greater than those of a larger size, that are 
 more remote; and so it is with pleasures and pains, the pre- 
 sent is apt to carry it, and those at a distance have the disad- 
 vantage in the comparison. Thus, most men like spendthrift 
 heirs, are apt to judge a little in hand, better than a great 
 deal to come ; and so for small matter in possession, part with 
 great ones in reversion. But, that this is a wrong judgment 
 every one must allow, let his pleasure consist in whatever it 
 will : since that which- is future will certainly come to be pre- 
 sent if he live ; and then, having the same advantage of near- 
 ness, will sfrew itself in its full dimensions, and convince him 
 
187 
 
 of his mistake, who judged of it, by a wrong mode of measur- 
 ing. Were the pleasure of drinking accompanied the very 
 moment a man takes off his glass, with that sick stomach and 
 aching head, which in some men are sure to follow not many 
 hours after : no one, I think, whatever pleasure he had in his 
 cups, would on these conditions let wine touch his lips; 
 which yet he daily swallows, and the evil side comes to be 
 chosen only by the fallacy of a little difference in time." 
 
 " It seems to me to be owing to the weak and limited con- 
 stitutions of our minds, that we cannot well enjoy two plea- 
 sures at once, and scarcely any pleasure while pain possesses 
 us ; the present pleasure, if it be not very languid, and almost 
 none at all, seems fully to occupy us, and scarce to leave us 
 any thought of things not present : or, if among our pleasures, 
 there are some which are not strong enough to exclude the 
 consideration of things at a distance, yet we have so great an 
 abhorrence of pain, that a very little of it will often make us 
 lose sight of absent good ; a little bitter mingled in our cup 
 leaves no relish of the sweet. Hence comes our readiness to 
 make any sacrifice so we be rid of the present evil, which we 
 are apt to think nothing absent can equal ; because under the 
 present pain, we find not ourselves capable of any the least 
 degree of happiness. Men's daily complaints are a loud proof 
 of this ; the pain that any one actually feels, is still of all 
 others the worst ; and it is with anguish he cries out, "Any 
 rather than this, nothing can be so intolerable as what I now 
 suffer." Nothing, as we passionately think, can exceed or 
 scarce equal the uneasiness that sits so heavy upon us. The 
 abstinence from a pleasure which immediately offers itself, 
 may be a pain too, nay, oftentimes a very great one, the de- 
 sire being inflamed by a near and tempting object ; and thus 
 it frequently forces us, as it were, blindfold into its embraces, 
 by making us lose sight of the future." 
 
 " Add to this that absent good, or which is the same thing, 
 
188 
 
 future pleasure, especially if of a sort we are unacquainted 
 with, seldom is able to counterbalance any uneasiness that is 
 present. For its greatness being no more than what shall be 
 really felt when enjoyed, men are apt enough to depreciate it, 
 in order to make it give place to the gratification of any present 
 desire, and to conclude with themselves, that when it comes 
 to trial, it may possibly not answer the report or opinion that 
 generally passes of it ; they having often found, that not only 
 what others have magnified, but even what they themselves 
 have tasted of with great relish at onetime, has proved insipid 
 or nauseous at another, and therefore they see nothing in it 
 for which they should forego a present enjoyment." 
 
 " Of things which are apt to procure us good or evil in the 
 future, we judge amiss several ways. First, when we judge 
 that so much evil does not really depend on them, as in truth 
 there does. Secondly, when we judge, that though the con- 
 sequences be of moment, yet it is not of that certainty, but 
 that it may otherwise fall out, or else by some means be 
 avoided, as by industry, address, change, repentance, &c. 
 That these are wrong ways of judging, were easy to shew in 
 every particular, if I would examine them at large singly ; but, 
 I shall only mention this in general, viz. that it is a very wrong 
 and irrational way of proceeding, to venture a greater good 
 for a less, before a due examination be made, proportionate 
 to the weightiness of the matter, and the importance it is to 
 us not to mistake. This I think every one must confess, espe- 
 cially if he consider the usual causes of this wrong judgment, 
 which are either ignorance or inadvertency." 
 
 " Ignorance He that judges without informing himself to 
 the utmost that he is capable of, cannot acquit himself of judg- 
 ing amiss." 
 
 " Inadvertency When a man overlooks even that which 
 he does know." 
 
 11 This is commonly the effect of carelessness, which mis- 
 
189 
 
 leads our judgment as much as the other. Judging is, as it 
 were, balancing an account, and determining on which side the 
 odds lie. If, then, either side be cast up in haste, and seve- 
 ral of the sums which should have gone into the reckoning, be 
 overlooked and left out ; this precipitancy causes as wrong 
 judgment as can arise from perfect ignorance. This is most 
 commonly occasioned by the prevalency of some present plea- 
 sure or pain, heightened by our feeble passionate nature, 
 most strongly wrought on by what is present. To check this 
 precipitancy, our understanding and reason was given to us, 
 and the use of it is, to search and see, and then to judge. 
 Without free-agency the understanding would be to no pur- 
 pose ; and, without understanding free-agency, (if it could be) 
 would signify nothing. If a man perceives what would do 
 him good or harm, what would make him happy or miserable, 
 without being able to move himself one step towards or from 
 it, what is he the better for seeing? And he that is at 
 liberty to ramble in perfect darkness, what is his liberty better 
 than if he were driven up and down as a bubble by the force 
 of the wind ? Whether a man be moved by a blind impulse 
 from without, or from within, is little odds. The first, therefore, 
 and principal exercise of freedom, is to stand still, open the 
 eyes, look about, and deliberately take a view of the conse- 
 quences of what we are going to do, so that we mistake not 
 imaginary for true and solid Happiness ; in the constant and 
 careful pursuit of which lies the highest perfection of intel- 
 lectual nature." 
 
 " But, whatever false notions and shameful neglect of what 
 is in their power, may put men out of their way to happiness, 
 and distract them, as we see, into so different courses of life ; 
 this yet is certain, that morality, established upon its true 
 foundations, cannot but determine the choice in any one that 
 will but consider : and he that will not be so far a rational 
 creature, as to reflect seriously upon infinite happiness and 
 
190 
 
 misery, must needs condemn himself, as not making thatt use 
 of his understanding he should. The rewards and punish- 
 ments of another life, which the Almighty has established as 
 the enforcements of his laws, are of weight enough to deter- 
 mine the choice, against whatever pleasure or pain this life can 
 shew, when the eternal state is considered but in its bare pos- 
 sibility, which no body can make any doubt of. He that will 
 allow exquisite and endless happiness to be but the possible 
 consequence of a good life here, and the contrary state the 
 possible reward of a bad one, must own himself to judge very 
 much amiss, if he do not conclude, that a virtuous life, with 
 the certain expectation of everlasting bliss, which may come, 
 is to be preferred to a vicious one, with the fear of that dread- 
 ful state of misery, which it is very possible may overtake the 
 guilty, or at best the terrible, uncertain hope of annihilation. 
 This is evidently so, though the virtuous life here had nothing 
 but pain, and the vicious continual pleasure ; which yet is, for 
 the most part, quite otherwise, and wicked men have not 
 much the odds to brag of, even in their present possession, 
 nay, all things rightly considered, have, I think, the worst 
 part here. But, when infinite happiness is put in one scale, 
 against infinite misery in the other ; if the worst that comes 
 to the pious man, if he mistake, be the best that the wicked 
 can attain to, if he be in the right, who can without madness 
 run the venture? Who in his wits would chuse to come 
 within a possibility of infinite misery, which, if he miss, there 
 is yet nothing to be got by that hazard ? Whereas, on the 
 other side, the sober man ventures nothing against infinite 
 happiness to be got, if his expectation come to pass. If the 
 good man be in the right, he is eternally happy ; if he mis- 
 take, he is not miserable, he feels nothing. On the other side, if 
 the wicked be in the right, he is not happy ; if he mistake, he 
 is infinitely miserable. Must it not be a most manifest wrong 
 judgment, that does not presently see to which side in this 
 
191 
 
 case the preference is to be given? I have forborne to 
 mention any thing of the certainty or probability of a future 
 state, designing here only to shew the wrong judgment that 
 any one must allow he makes upon his own principles, laid 
 down how he pleases, who prefers the short pleasures of a vici- 
 ous life upon any consideration, whilst he knows, and cannot 
 but be certain, that a future life is at least possible." 
 
 Substance or Substratum. 
 
 Such a strange variety of opinions prevail respecting the 
 Deity, Real existence, and the nature both of Spirit and of 
 Matter, that we are tempted in this place to present our 
 reader with a very concise abridgment of Mr. Locke's confes- 
 sion of faith, (if we may so call it) upon these several points. 
 
 But, we must first endeavour to explain to those who may 
 not have read his Essay, what he would express by the word 
 Substance or Substratum, otherwise his meaning may not be 
 intelligible to them. Mr. Locke was of opinion, that there is 
 a substance or substratum (but whose essence is unknown to 
 us) which is the very essentia or being of the several sorts 
 of material bodies existing, and that it is the cause of the 
 union of certain qualities in them. For instance, we can- 
 not tell what makes the essential, though we can the apparent 
 differences, between the substance of a man, of a diamond, of 
 fire, of water, &c. We clearly perceive these are of different 
 shapes, colours, densities, opake, or transparent, &c. and also, 
 that they have different powers inherent in them. But, is it 
 possible to discover their essential differences, as we do those 
 of all artificial things ? Can we, for instance, distinguish the 
 difference between the essence of a bird and of a fish, as we can 
 between that of a candle and of a hat? The one being to afford 
 shelter solely for the head, the other light to the eyes. What- 
 soever therefore be the abstract nature of substance in gene- 
 
192 
 
 ral, all the ideas we have of particular sorts of substances, are 
 nothing more than several combinations of simple ideas co- 
 existing in such or such a substratum, the cause of their union, 
 and what makes the whole subsist of itself. For he has the 
 most perfect idea of any of the particular sorts of substances, 
 who is best acquainted with its qualities and powers." 
 
 It was also supposed by Mr. Locke, that there is a Spiritual 
 substance which serves in like manner to unite certain intel- 
 lectual powers, and consequently that thinking is the action, 
 and not the essence of the soul. 
 
 Spirit, Matter. 
 
 " We have as clear a perception and notion of Immaterial 
 as of Material substances, for putting together the ideas of 
 thinking and willing, or the power of causing or quieting cor- 
 poreal motion joined to substance, or a substratum, of which 
 we have no distinct idea, we have the idea of an Immaterial 
 Spirit ; and, by putting together the ideas of coherent solid 
 parts, and a power of being moved joined with substance, of 
 which likewise we have no distinct idea, we have the idea of 
 Matter. The one is as clear and distinct an idea as the other ; 
 the idea of thinking and moving a body, being as clear and 
 distinct ideas, as the ideas of extension, solidity, and being 
 moved, for our idea of substance is equally obscure in both ; 
 it is in both cases, but a supposed substratum, which supports 
 those ideas we called accidents. The want of reflexion it is, 
 that makes us apt to think our senses shew us nothing but 
 material things. Every act of sensation, when duly consi- 
 dered, gives us an equal view of both parts of nature, the 
 Corporeal and the Spiritual ; for whilst I know by seeing or 
 hearing, &c. that there is some corporeal being without me, 
 the object of that sensation ; I do more certainly know, that 
 there is some spiritual being within me, that sees and hears. 
 
193 
 
 This I must be convinced cannot be the action of base, insen- 
 sible matter, nor ever could be." 
 
 " The ideas of existence, duration, and mobility, are com- 
 mon to them both. There is no reason why it should be 
 thought strange, that I make mobility belong to spirit ; for, 
 to suppose it separated from the body in death, or leaving it, 
 and yet to have no idea of its motion, seems to me impossi- 
 ble." 
 
 " Motion cannot be attributed to God, not because he is an 
 Immaterial, but because he is an Infinite Spirit." 
 
 Real Existence. 
 
 I think it is beyond question, that man has a clear idea of 
 his own being : he knows certainly he exists, and that he is 
 something. He that can doubt whether he be any thing or 
 no, I speak not to, no more than I would argue with pure 
 nothing, or endeavour to convince non-entity that it were 
 something. If any one pretend to be so sceptical as to deny 
 his own existence, (for really to doubt of it is manifestly im- 
 possible) let him for me enjoy his beloved happiness of being 
 nothing, until hunger, or some other pain convince him of 
 the contrary." 
 
 " If any one will be so sceptical as to distrust his senses, and 
 to affirm, that all we see and hear, feel and taste, think and 
 do, during our whole being, is but the series and deluding 
 appearances of a long dream ; and therefore will question all 
 things, or our knowledge of any thing, I must desire him to 
 consider, that if all be a dream, then he doth but dream that 
 he makes the question, and so it is not much matter, that a 
 waking man should answer him ; however, if he please, he 
 may dream that I make him this answer, that the certainty of 
 things existing in rerum naturd, when we have the testimony 
 of our senses for it, is not only as great as our frame can at- 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 tain to, but as our condition needs, and no man requires 
 greater certainty to govern his actions by, than what is as 
 certain as his actions themselves. And, if our dreamer likes 
 to try, whether the glowing heat of a glass furnace be barely 
 a wandering imagination in a drowsy man's fancy, he may by 
 ,putting his hand into it, perhaps be awakened into a greater 
 certainty than he could wish. He most assuredly never could 
 be put into such exquisite pain by a bare idea or phantom, 
 unless that the pain be a fancy too, but this pain he cannot, 
 when the burn is well, bring upon himself again by the mere 
 force of imagination. So that this evidence is as strong as we 
 can desire, being as certain to us as our pleasure or pain, i. e. 
 happiness or misery, beyond which we have no concernment 
 either of knowing or being." 
 
 " Oh ! who can hold a fire in his hand, 
 By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? 
 Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 
 By bare imagination of a feast 1 
 Or wallow naked in December's snow, 
 By thinking on fantastic Summer's heat V 
 
 Existence of a God. 
 
 " If any one should be found so senseless and presumptuous 
 as to suppose man alone knowing and wise, yet the product of 
 mere ignorance and chance, and that the rest of the universe 
 was created by blind hap-hazard ; I shall leave with him this 
 very rational and emphatical rebuke of Tully, i. 11, de Leg. to 
 be considered at his leisure." " What can be more arrogant 
 and misbecoming than for a man to think, that he has a mind 
 and understanding in him, and yet in all the universe beside, 
 that there is no such thing ? Or that those things which with 
 the utmost stretch of his reason he can scarce comprehend, 
 should be moved and managed without any reason at all ?" 
 
195 
 
 "It is overvaluing ourselves to reduce all to the narrow 
 measure of our capacities, and to conclude all things impossi- 
 ble to be done, whose manner of doing exceeds our compre- 
 hension. It is making our comprehension infinite, or God 
 finite, when we limit what he can do, to what we can conceive 
 of it. If you do not understand the operations of your own 
 finite mind, that thinking thing within you, do not deem it 
 strange, that you cannot comprehend the operations of the 
 eternal, infinite Being, who made and governs all things, and 
 whom the Heaven of Heavens cannot contain." Locke. 
 
 Piety. 
 
 " It is we see common in nature for all animals to be readily 
 acquainted with their parents, to run after them, to expect 
 from them supply of wants, succour in straits, refuge and de- 
 fence in dangers, insomuch, that we may easily discern to what 
 parent any creature belongs ; and since there appears the like 
 instinct and capacity innate in man, and indeed, of all earthly 
 creatures, in him alone, to entertain nearly similar feelings 
 towards God; some philosophers have thought good from 
 this property to define him, " A creature capable of religion," 
 capable to bear in his mind, I say, awe and respect of his 
 Maker ; to supplicate him in all his straits, .(and most when 
 other helps and hopes fail him) to lift up his heart and voice 
 toward Heaven for assistance ; why then, may we not hence 
 infer, that man is in special manner the offspring of God ?" 
 
 " The very power of framing conceptions, although vastly 
 imperfect and inadequate concerning God, is in itself a faculty, 
 so very spiritual and sublime, that it argues something divine 
 in man's soul. That like is known by its like, was an axiom 
 amongst ancient philosophers ; and that spiritual things are 
 spiritually discerned, is a rule of a better master in wisdom 
 than they ; and beasts surely, because not endued with reason, 
 
 o 2 
 
196 
 
 have no conceptions concerning man's nature, and the matters 
 proper to him (according to what rules, by what methods, to 
 what purpose, he doth act), so in likelihood, we should not be 
 able to apprehend and discourse about things appertaining to 
 God, his nature, the methods and reasons of his proceedings, 
 the notions of eternal truth, the indispensable laws of right, 
 the natural differences of good and evil,- with such like high 
 objects of thought, except our souls had in them some sparks 
 of divine understanding ; some cognation with, and communi- 
 cation from Heaven." 
 
 " The wisest and most considerate men in several times, 
 only by reflecting upon their own minds, and observing in 
 them what was most lovely and excellent, most pure and strait, 
 have fallen upon and conspired in notions concerning God, 
 very suitable to those which we believe taught us by revela- 
 tion, although contrary to the general prejudices of their edu- 
 cation, and to popular conceits : many admirable passages to 
 this purpose we may find dropt from the mouth of Socrates, 
 and the pen of Plato, in Cicero, in Epictetus, yea, in the least 
 credulous or fanciful of men, Aristotle himself. Whence 
 plainly enough we may collect, how legible characters of the 
 divinity are written upon our souls; how easily we may 
 know God, if we be not ignorant of ourselves ; that we need 
 not go far to fetch arguments to prove that God is, nor to 
 find lessons to learn what he is ; since we always carry both 
 about us, or rather within us ; since our souls could indeed 
 come from no other than such a Being. Let men suppose 
 themselves a mere corporeal machine, and thus vilify and dis- 
 parage their nature as they please, yet those noble perfections 
 of our soul speak its extraction from a higher stock, it plainly 
 discovers its original to be from a cause itself understanding 
 and knowing freely, resenting things (if I may so speak) and 
 moving of itself, but in an infinitely more excellent manner and 
 degree." 
 
197 
 
 ** Piety tieth all relations more fastly and strongly, assureth 
 and augmenteth all endearments, enforceth and established! 
 all obligations by the firm bands of conscience, set aside 
 which, no engagement can hold sure against temptations of 
 interest or pleasure. Piety removeth oppression, violence, 
 faction, disorders, and murmurings, out of the State : schisms 
 and scandals, out of the Church ; pride and haughtiness, 
 sloth and luxury, detraction and sycophancy, out of the 
 Court ; corruption and partiality, out of Judicature ; clamours 
 and tumults, out of the Streets ; brawlings, grudges, and 
 jealousies, out of Families ; extortion and cozenage, out of 
 Trades ; strifes, emulations, slanderous backbitings, bitter and 
 foul language, out of Conversation; in all places, in all so- 
 cieties, it produceth, it advanceth, it establisheth, order, 
 peace, safety, prosperity, all that is good, all that is lovely or 
 handsome, all that is convenient or pleasant, for human society 
 and common life. It is that which exalteth a nation, and esta- 
 blisheth a throne, saith the great politician Solomon, and when 
 the Righteous are in authority, the people rejoice" Barrow, 
 
 Devotion. 
 
 " All persons who would not lead a loose and flattering life, 
 but design with good assurance and advantage, to prosecute 
 an orderly course of action, are wont to distribute their time 
 into several parcels ; assigning some part thereof to the neces- 
 sary refection of their bodies, some to the convenient relaxa- 
 tion of their minds, some to the dispatch of their ordinary 
 affairs, some also to familiar conversation, and interchanging 
 good offices with their friends ; considering that otherwise 
 they shall be uncertain and unstable in all their ways. And 
 in this distribution of time, Devotion surely should not lack its 
 share! it rather justly claimeth the choicest portion to be 
 allotted thereto ; as being incomparably the noblest part of 
 our duty, and mainest concernment of our lives. Every day 
 
198 
 
 we do recover and receive a new life from God ; every morn- 
 ing we do commence business, or revive it ; from our bed of 
 rest and security we then issue forth, exposing ourselves to 
 the cares and toils, to the dangers, troubles, and temptations of 
 the world : then especially, therefore, it is reasonable, that we 
 should sacrifice thanks to the gracious Preserver of our life, 
 and the Restorer of its supports and comforts ; that we should 
 crave his direction and help in the pursuit of our honest un- 
 dertakings ; that to his protection from sin and mischief we 
 should recommend ourselves and our affairs ; that by offering 
 up to him the first-fruits of our diurnal labours, we should 
 consecrate and consign them all to his blessing ; then as we 
 are wont to salute all the world, so then chiefly with humble 
 obeisance we should accost Him, who is ever present with us, 
 and continually watchful over us. Then also peculiarly devo- 
 tion is most seasonable, because then our minds being less pre- 
 possessed and pestered with other cares, our fancies being 
 lively and gay, our memories fresh and prompt, our spirits 
 copious and brisk, we are better disposed for it." 
 
 " Every night also reason calleth for these duties, requiring 
 that we should close our business, and wind up all our cares 
 in devotion ; that we should then bless God for his gracious 
 preservation of us, from the hazards and the sins to which we 
 stood obnoxious ; that we should implore his mercy for the 
 manifold neglects and transgressions of our duty, which through 
 the day past we have incurred ; that otir minds being then so 
 tired with study and care, our spirits so wasted with labour 
 and toil, that we cannot any longer sustain ourselves, but do, 
 of our own accord, sink down in a posture of death; we 
 should, as dying men, resign our soul into God's hand, depb-* 
 siting ourselves and our concernments into his custody, who 
 alone doth never sleep nor slumber, praying that he would 
 guard us from all the dangers and disturbances incident to us 
 in that state of forgetfulness, and interregnum of our reason, 
 
199 
 
 that he would grant us a happy resurrection in safety and 
 health, with a good and cheerful mind, enabling us thereafter 
 comfortably to enjoy ourselves, and delightfully to serve him." 
 
 " At the middle distance between those two extremes we 
 ought also to interpose somewhat of devotion. For as then 
 usually our spirits being somewhat shattered and spent, do 
 need a recruit, enabling us to pass through the residue of the 
 day with its incumbent business : so then it would do well, 
 and may be requisite, in a meal of devotion, to refresh our 
 souls with spiritual sustenance, drawn from the never-failing 
 storehouse of Divine grace, which may so fortify us, that with 
 due vigour and alacrity, we may perform the ensuing duties to 
 God's honour, and our own comfort." 
 
 " These are times which it is necessary, or very expedient, 
 that all men even persons of highest rank and greatest em- 
 ployment should observe. These even of old were the prac- 
 tices of religious persons, not expressly prescribed by God's 
 law, but assumed by themselves; good reason suggesting them 
 to the first practisers, and the consenting example of pious men 
 afterwards enforcing them." 
 
 " When we have received any singular blessing or notable 
 favours from God, when prosperous success hath attended 
 our honest enterprizes, when we have been happily rescued 
 from imminent dangers, when we have been supported in dif- 
 ficulties, or relieved in wants and straits ; then is it seasonable 
 to render sacrifices of thanksgiving and praise to the God of 
 victory, help, and mercy, to admire and celebrate Him, who 
 is our strength and our deliverer, our faithful refuge in trouble, 
 our fortress, and the rock of our salvation. To omit this 
 piece of devotion then, is vile ingratitude, or stupid negligence 
 and sloth." 
 
 " When any rare object, or remarkable occurrence, doth 
 upon this theatre of the world present itself to our view ; in 
 surveying the glorious works of nature, or the strange events 
 
200 
 
 of Providence, then is a proper occasion suggested, to send up 
 hymns of praise to the power, the wisdom, the goodness, of the 
 world's great Creator and Governor." 
 
 ' When we undertake any business of special moment and 
 difficulty ; then it is expedient (wisdom prompting it) to sue 
 for God's aid, to commit our affairs into his hand, to recom- 
 mend our endeavours to the blessing of Him, by whose guid- 
 ance all things are ordered, without whose concurrence nothing 
 can be effected, upon whose disposal all success dependeth." 
 
 " When we fall into doubts or darknesses (in the course 
 either of our spiritual or secular affairs) not knowing what 
 course to steer, or which way to turn ourselves ; (a case which 
 to so blind and silly creatures as we are, must often happen) 
 then doth the time bid us to consult the great Oracle of truth, 
 the mighty Counsellor, the Father of lights, seeking resolution 
 and satisfaction, intelligence and wisdom from him." 
 
 " When any storm of danger blustereth about us, perilously 
 threatening, or furiously assailing us with mischief, (so that 
 hardly by our own strength or wit we can hope to evade it) then 
 with the wings of ardent devotion we should fly unto God for 
 shelter and for relief." 
 
 " When we do lie under any irksome trouble, or sore dis- 
 tress, (of want, pain, disgrace) then for succour and sup- 
 port, for ease and comfort, we should have recourse to the 
 Father of pities, and to the God of all consolation" 
 
 " When any strong temptation doth invade us, with which 
 by our own strength we cannot grapple, but are like to sink 
 and faulter under it ; then is it opportune and needful, that we 
 should apply to God for a supply of spiritual forces, and the 
 succour of his Almighty grace." 
 
 " When also (from ignorance, or mistake, from inadver- 
 tency, negligence, or rashness, from weakness, from wanton- 
 ness, from presumption) we have transgressed our duty, and 
 incurred sinful guilt; then, (for avoiding consequent danger 
 
201 
 
 and vengeance, for unloading our consciences of the burden 
 and discomfort thereof) with humble confession in our mouths, 
 and serious contrition in our hearts, we should apply ourselves 
 to the God of mercy, deprecating his wrath, and imploring 
 pardon from him, remembering that, He that coveretk his sins 
 shall not prosper : but he that confesseth and forsaketh them 
 shall have mercy" 
 
 " And though we cannot ever be framing or venting long 
 prayers with our lips, yet as bodily respiration, without inter- 
 mission or impediment, doth concur with all our actions ; so may 
 that breathing of soul, which preserveth our spiritual life, and 
 ventilate th that holy flame within us, well conspire with all other 
 occupations. For Devotion is of a nature so spiritual, so sub- 
 tile and penetrant, that no matter can exclude or obstruct it. 
 We can never be so fully possessed by any employment, but 
 that divers vacuities of time do intercur, wherein our thoughts 
 and affections will be diverted to other matters. As a cove- 
 tous man, whatever beside he is doing, will be carking about 
 his bags and treasures ; an ambitious man devising about his 
 plots and projects; a voluptuous man have his mind in his 
 dishes ; a studious man musing on his notions ; so every man, 
 according to his particular inclination, will lard his business, 
 and besprinkle all his actions with cares and wishes, tending 
 to the enjoyment of what he most esteemeth and affecteth ; in 
 like manner then, a good Christian may, through all his under- 
 takings, wind in devout reflections and pious motions of soul, 
 toward the chief object of his mind and affection. Most bu- 
 sinesses have wide gaps, all have some chinks, at which de- 
 votion may slip in. Be we never so urgently set, or closely 
 intent upon any work, (be we feeding, be we travelling, be we 
 trading, be we studying,) nothing yet can forbid, but that we 
 may together wedge in a thought concerning God's goodness, 
 but that we may reflect on our sins, and spend a penitential 
 sigh on them. As worldly cares and desires do often intrude 
 
202 
 
 and creep into our devotions, distracting and defiling them; 
 so may spiritual thoughts and holy affections insinuate thenv 
 selves into, and hallow our secular transactions." Barrow. 
 
 Innocent, Culpable, Guilty. 
 
 Men are innocent or guilty in innumerable ways and de- 
 grees, and innocent in one or more respects, while guilty in 
 others, either in their thoughts or actions. 
 
 Virtuous, Good, Worthy, Blameless, Vicious, Bad, Worthless, 
 
 Blameable. 
 
 And are thus accounted upon the whole, more or less, vir- 
 tuous or vicious, &c. 
 
 Incorrigible, Reprobate. 
 
 Some vicious persons are incorrigible, reprobates, having 
 no desire, or at least, resolution to reform their lives. 
 
 Correct, Incorrect. 
 
 We are disposed to be more or less correct, or incorrect, in 
 all our proceedings, i. e. to act either with more or less up- 
 rightness or propriety. 
 
 Honesty, Uprightness, Probity, Integrity, Sincerity. 
 Those only can pretend to honesty, probity, &c. who in every 
 way act conscientiously towards all men. 
 
 Just, Unjust. 
 
 The just give to every man what they believe to be strictly 
 his due. 
 
 Frank, Ingenuous, Candid, Artless, Disingenuous, Artful, 
 
 Deceitful. 
 
 We are, by nature or principle, more or less disposed to be 
 ingenuous, candid, &c. or otherwise. 
 
203 
 
 Magnanimity) Heroism. 
 
 A single act of magnanimity or heroism, marks only that 
 the mind is for the moment under the influence of some very 
 strong desire, which may determine and enable a man to un- 
 dertake the most hazardous enterprizes, to encounter the most 
 appalling dangers, or to suffer the most agonizing pain with 
 undaunted courage; but experience proves, that many are 
 capable of making a wonderful effort at tunes, who are, how- 
 ever, often greatly deficient in steadiness of virtue. 
 
 True Greatness of Mind. 
 
 True greatness of mind implies habitual self-command, the 
 hardest task human nature can accomplish. The union of 
 powerful mental faculties, with true greatness of mind, consti- 
 tutes the perfection of man ; whereas, whoever possesses dis- 
 tinguished talents, and yet is much wanting in self-control, least 
 merits admiration, since with superior powers, he is unable to 
 conquer himself, though perhaps, with the assistance of the 
 multitude, he may have subjected nations to his dominion. 
 
 Generous, Ungenerous. 
 
 The generous are inclined to favour, protect, and defend 
 others in their need ; the ungenerous to desert, and sometimes 
 even to attack them. The generous are also commonly dis- 
 posed to interpret men's words and actions favourably; the 
 ungenerous, the contrary. 
 
 Liberal, Illiberal. 
 
 A Liberal mind has a generous turn of thinking upon most 
 subjects ; it may be fettered by narrow prejudices, but is in- 
 capable of any mean or base intention. The Illiberal are 
 apt to impute unworthy motives to others, or to act unhand- 
 somely towards them. 
 
20* 
 
 Honourable, DisJionourable. 
 
 The honourable are disposed to act not only with integrity, 
 but with a certain degree of liberality towards all men ; being 
 in any doubtful cases, determined to sacrifice rather more than 
 can reasonably be required of them, lest they fall short of it, 
 such is " the soul of Honour." 
 
 Fidelity. 
 The faithful are strictly true to the trust reposed in them. 
 
 Tale-bearer, Tell-tale. 
 
 Some persons are more or less disposed to communicate to 
 others what they hear said, or see done, with the intent of 
 causing some mischief or annoyance between men, or from a 
 bad habit. 
 
 Lying. 
 
 Lying is the subterfuge of one under the operation of fear, 
 or aiming to do mischief, or wishing to impose upon, or to 
 amuse his companions in some idle way or other. 
 
 To Equivocate, Prevaricate. 
 
 To equivocate or prevaricate, marks a mind not having 
 courage either to acknowledge the truth, or to utter a false- 
 hood. 
 
 Perjury. 
 
 Some men take a false oath for a more or less wicked pur- 
 pose, others to ward off punishment, &c. 
 
 To Invite, Tempt. 
 
 We invite or tempt others to partake of, or to do something 
 we think likely to cause them pleasure, and this either with a 
 good or bad intention, or inconsiderately. 
 
205 
 
 To Seduce, Delude, Entice, Allure, Decoy, Entrap, Enveigle, 
 
 Ensnare. 
 
 Men seduce, delude, &c. others with a more or less trea- 
 cherous design. 
 
 " Oh ! what may man within him hide, 
 Though angel on the outward side." 
 
 To Conspire, to Plot. 
 Others herd together for purposes of mischief. 
 
 To Sham, Counterfeit. 
 
 Some sham or counterfeit appearances that may answer 
 some sinister end. 
 
 Spy, Informer. 
 
 In order to be a spy or informer, perhaps, for the purpose 
 of entrapping and betraying men, such may most truly be 
 called the devil's imps. 
 
 To Bribe, Corrupt. 
 
 Many are disposed to bribe that they may the more easily 
 accomplish their own wishes, by obtaining the agency of others ; 
 or they corrupt men by their bad counsel or example, -some- 
 times purposely, sometimes idly. 
 
 To Suborn. 
 Suborning is the maximum of human obliquity. 
 
 To Swear, Blaspheme. 
 
 Numbers have an idle habit of swearing, some blaspheme 
 from losing all fear of God. 
 
 To Cheat, to Defraud. 
 
 There are numbers continually on the watch, to defraud the 
 unsuspecting and unguarded. 
 
206 
 
 To Pilfer, Thieve, Rob. 
 
 There are infinite degrees of vice betrayed by men addicted 
 to pilfering and thieving. 
 
 Breach of Faith, Treachery. 
 
 Men betray a trust reposed in them, either by appropriating 
 some part of the property of others to their own use, or by act- 
 ing in other ways unjustly towards those who are committed to 
 their charge; such men are guilty of breach of faith, and 
 treachery, and there are degrees of this crime, that are as 
 black as any in the catalogue of human depravity. The trea- 
 cherous often assume also the fairest appearances when they 
 entertain the foulest intentions. 
 
 Cruelty. 
 
 Some men are heedlessly, and some intentionally cruel. 
 There are infinite degrees of it, but the highest degree stamps 
 a man with the character of a demon. 
 
 Murder, Assassination. 
 
 He who has a propensity to shed blood without provocation, 
 or some proposed advantage to himself, is blood-thirsty, or 
 rather a fit subject for the strait-waistcoat. Murderers have 
 their several degrees of guilt. 
 
 But an Assassin must, without exception, be an object of 
 horror and detestation to every one who has not lost all sense 
 both of religion and honour. 
 
207 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Of Speech. Desire of Praise and Fear of Blame. 
 
 Of Speech. 
 
 THE extent of Speech must needs be vast, since it is nearly 
 commensurate to thought itself, which it ever closely traceth, 
 widely ranging through all the immense variety of objects ; so 
 that men almost as often speak incogitantly, as they think 
 silently. Speech is indeed the rudder that steereth human 
 affairs, the spring that setteth the wheels of action on going ; 
 the hands work, the feet walk, all the members, and all the 
 senses, act by its direction and impulse ; yea, most thoughts 
 are begotten, and most affections stirred up thereby ; it is it- 
 self most of our employment, and even what we do beside it, is 
 guided and moved by it. It is the profession and trade of 
 many, it is the practice of all men, to be in a manner continu- 
 ally talking. The chief and most considerable sort of men ma- 
 nage all their concernments merely by words ; by them princes 
 rule their subjects, generals command their armies, senators 
 deliberate and debate about the great matters of state : by them 
 advocates plead causes, and judges decide them ; divines per- 
 form their offices, and ministers their instructions ; merchants 
 strike up their bargains, and drive on all their traffic. What- 
 ever almost great or small is done in the court, or in the hall, 
 in the church, or at the exchange, in the school, or in the 
 shop, it is the tongue mostly that doeth it : it is the force of 
 this little machine that turneth all the human world about. It 
 
208 
 
 is indeed the use of this strange organ, which rendereth hu- 
 man life beyond the simple life of other creatures, so exceed- 
 ingly various and compounded ; which creates such a multipli- 
 city of business, and which transacts it; by it we communicate 
 our secret conceptions, transfusing them into others ; there- 
 with we instruct and advise one another: by its means we 
 consult about what is to be done, contest about right, dispute 
 about truth ; the whole business of conversation, of commerce, 
 of government, and administration of justice, of learning, and 
 of religion, is managed thereby ; yea, it stoppeth the gaps of 
 time, and filleth up the wide intervals of business, our recrea- 
 tions and divertisements (the which do constitute a great por- 
 tion of our life) mainly consisting therein ; so that, in compari- 
 son thereof, the execution of what we determine, and all other 
 action do take up small room; and even all that, usually de- 
 pendeth upon foregoing speech, which persuadeth, or counsel- 
 leth, or commandeth it. Thus Speech is almost universally 
 concerned either immediately as the matter, or by consequence, 
 as the source of our several actions. 
 
 Loquacity, Garrulity) Taciturnity. 
 
 Some persons are more or less disposed to loquacity, others 
 to taciturnity. 
 
 The Desire of Praise and Fear of Blame, 
 
 The desire of Praise and Fear of Blame, seems to have been 
 made part of our nature, in order that we might be subjected, 
 as it were, to the control of all men, though placed far above 
 the multitude either by birth, fortune, rank, talents, &c. The 
 desire of reward and fear of punishment concerns our moral 
 retribution both in this world and the next, and the necessary 
 consequences of our actions in general, the desire of praise 
 and fear of blame, the obtaining of applause, and the escaping 
 
209 
 
 of censure from men. Praise and blame, however, are of 
 themselves, as Mr. Locke observes, no weak instruments of 
 reward and punishment. 
 
 " He that filches from me my good name, 
 Robs me of that, which not enriches him, 
 But makes me poor indeed," 
 
 Without this excitement, therefore, we should be less un- 
 easy under the sense of our imperfections ; but the desire of 
 praise and fear of blame, is most closely connected with our 
 social affections, since it is not possible to covet the friendship 
 of any one, without wishing to possess his esteem and regard ; 
 nor, consequently, without feeling some apprehensions of be- 
 coming the object of his contempt and dislike. And as we 
 are commonly yet more desirous to escape uneasiness, than to 
 ^btain pleasure, so are we often satisfied without praise, pro- 
 vided we escape blame. 
 
 When the desire of praise makes us endeavour to deserve 
 it, it has only its due influence upon our minds, but if we be- 
 come eager to hear it frequently repeated, we may feel assured 
 we are in a similar danger as a dram-drinker, who requires the 
 intoxicating draught to be made stronger and stronger, until 
 quite besotted, he is neither desirous nor able, to distinguish 
 right from wrong. 
 
 Celebrity, Fame, Renown, 
 
 " Being sensible of his mortal and transitory condition, 
 man yet seeks to live for ever in his name and memory, la- 
 bours to perform memorable actions, rears lasting monuments 
 of his art and knowledge, of his wealth and power, of his 
 bounty and munificence, by all means studying and striving to 
 commend himself to the regard of posterity ; thus affecting a 
 sort of likeness unto God, even a kind of immortality and etei- 
 nity"-~Barrow. 
 
 The desire of Fame often has its original jointly in the de- 
 
210 
 
 sire of good and the desire of praise, but no less frequently 
 solely in the desire of praise, for many who most covet cele- 
 brity, think least of the account they have to carry with 
 them, into the region of eternal truth ; whereas, those who 
 are most anxious to discharge all their moral obligations, are 
 seldom so apt to be elated 'with worldly applause. Praise 
 however, when judiciously bestowed, tends to encourage every 
 one in the pursuit of excellence, to foster our most kindly 
 affections, and to invite us to continue the benefactors, as 
 well as the agreeable companions of our fellow creatures ; 
 but otherwise, it serves only to render us selfish, to make us 
 desire to fill the world with the echo of our name at any price, 
 also to blind us to our own defects, whence the inordinate de- 
 sire of praise has given birth to vices we term flattery, syco- 
 phancy, Sec. 
 
 Approbation, Disapprobation, Agreeable, Disagreeable. 
 
 Approbation is an emotion of the mind, excited by the 
 pleasure we derive from the perception of certain objects, 
 and from our knowledge or supposition of their merits ; thus 
 we may approve of the beauty of a portrait, or of the skill 
 with which it is executed. Disapprobation arises, on the con- 
 trary, from the annoyance we suffer, in perceiving what is dis- 
 agreeable to us, or which we either judiciously or injudiciously 
 consider, as being more or less devoid of merit; we may disap- 
 prove, for instance, of the voice of a singer, and of his want 
 of taste or correctness. 
 
 We commonly make use of the expressions, agreeable and 
 disagreeable, when we speak of the effect things naturally of 
 themselves produce upon the mind, and of approbation and 
 disapprobation, when they have been fashioned or arranged in 
 some way or other, by the industry of man ; for instance, we 
 say the fragrance of a rose is agreeable or delightful to us, but 
 that we approve of the tree being planted in the garden ; and 
 
211 
 
 we may delight in the tickling of our palate, and yet highly 
 disapprove of our own intemperance. We either approve or 
 disapprove of all moral actions whatsoever. 
 
 To Esteem, Respect, Reverence, Venerate, Adore, to feel 
 Contempt, to Despise, Scorn. 
 
 As approbation springs from our love of excellence, so es- 
 teem and respect originate in our approbation ; we approve of 
 the thing done, and esteem and respect more or less the per- 
 son doing it. Our respect in cases of extraordinary virtue 
 amounts to reverence, veneration ; and veneration, when we 
 contemplate infinite Perfection, rises of course to adoration. 
 
 As evil deeds excite our disapprobation, so do the prac- 
 tisers of them our contempt ; and we despise or hold bad men 
 in scorn or derision, according as their sins may appear to us 
 more or less flagrant, and their follies more or less extrava- 
 gant. 
 
 Men of an idle or trifling turn of mind also, are apt to excite 
 our contempt. 
 
 Admiration. 
 
 Admiration is the result of our approval of certain things, 
 exciting in us the idea either of moral or physical beauty, of 
 great power, dexterity, ingenuity, space, magnitude, &c. and 
 our admiration in its excess, amounts to surprise, wonder, 
 amazement. We say, for instance, such a thing is surprisingly, 
 wonderfully, amazingly, marvellously beautiful, or ingenious, 
 or sublime, &c. incomparable, unequalled, matchless, inimit- 
 able, are terms expressive of the highest degree of admira- 
 tion ; and all such words imply, that the mind considers any 
 thing with relation to what it has before perceived of the 
 same kind. 
 
 Coaxing, Wheedling, Cringing, Fawning. 
 We are all of us disposed more or less to coax. To coax 
 p 2 
 
212 
 
 is an artifice natural to man. Infants delight to caress, and to 
 be caressed ; and what they cannot readily obtain, they en- 
 deavour to win by stratagem. To coax is an innocent strata- 
 gem, for he who is prevailed upon is fully aware of the end 
 and aim of such manoeuvring, and yields to what he cannot 
 resist, to the pleasure of granting what has been so agreeably 
 won from him. But wheedling, cringing, and fawning, are 
 cunning contrivances of the crafty and designing a sort of 
 dumb hypocrisy. 
 
 Commendation. 
 
 Praise well merited we call commendation, otherwise flat- 
 tery. 
 
 Flatterer, Parasite, Sycophant. 
 
 The term Flatterer seems to be properly applied to all who 
 express a greater degree of admiration for any one, than they 
 believe to be justly due to him, on account either of his mental 
 or personal accomplishments, of his conduct, beauty, health, 
 taste, possessions, &c. 
 
 Delicate and indirect flattery, as far as it is made use of, 
 merely to keep people in greater good humour both with them- 
 selves and others, is perhaps necessary to soften the asperities 
 of our nature, but beyond this point, we find it to be the fruit- 
 ful parent of evil, and as such, has been largely commented 
 upon by writers of all ages and nations. 
 
 " Flattery is the nurse of crimes." 
 
 Parasites barter flattery for good cheer, or for some other 
 thing that they covet. Any one who has not penetration to 
 discover the difference, between the well bred gentleman and 
 the fulsome parasite, has a sickly appetite for compliments, 
 which, if he would indulge, he must be content to pay the price 
 of. 
 
 " If we should commend any man for good qualities, or 
 good deeds ; this is honest : if we should encourage him in 
 
213 
 
 good undertakings ; this is charitable : but to applaud his de- 
 fects, to bolster him in ill practices ; this is flattery and trea- 
 chery." Barrow. 
 
 A Sycophant recommends himself to those, with whom he 
 would curry favour, by repeating or inventing slanders against 
 persons he believes disliked or envied by his hearers, or be- 
 cause he is aware he shall be listened to with an anxiety, pro- 
 portionate to the malignancy of his reports. Envious minds 
 are most apt to encourage sycophants, for instead of being 
 roused to a noble emulation by examples of virtue, they seem 
 to delight in the discovery, that others are disturbed by as 
 base passions as themselves. The sycophant and his listener 
 are worthy of each other. L; 
 
 To Cajole. 
 
 The artful are disposed to cajole those, by whose follies or 
 ignorance they hope to profit. 
 
 Hypocrisy, Simulation, Dissimulation. 
 
 Hypocrisy is the adopting the air and language of any cha- 
 racter foreign to our own, and with an intent to deceive. Si- 
 mulation seems to be synonymous with it. 
 
 Dissimulation, the concealing our opinions or real character, 
 or both, from those whom we wish to conciliate, because we 
 suspect they would not like, or be well affected towards us, 
 were they acquainted with them. 
 
 The hypocrite simulates a character, but men may dissimu- 
 late in order to avoid shocking the opinions or prejudices of 
 those with whom they associate, or upon whom they are any 
 way dependant. But dissimulation always perhaps implies 
 some degree of artifice, something more than what prudence or 
 good-breeding require, for the word Dissembler is never used 
 in a good sense. The dissembler we suppose takes more or less 
 pains to persuade others he is not what he appears to be ; 
 
214 
 
 the hypocrite, that he is what he suspects will recommend him 
 to favour. 
 
 " Clarence, whom I indeed have cast in darkness, 
 I do beweep to many simple gulls, 
 And tell them 'tis the Queen and her allies, 
 That stir the king against the Duke my brother. 
 Now they believe it, and withal whet me 
 To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorset, Grey. 
 But, then I sigh, and with a piece of scripture 
 Tell them, that God bids us do good for evil. 
 And thus I clothe my naked villany, 
 With odd old ends stoln forth of holy writ, 
 And seem a saint, when most I play the devil." 
 
 Gossipping, Censoriousness, Scandal, Detraction. 
 
 " If we consider all the frivolous and petulant discourse, 
 the impertinent chattings, the rash censures, the spiteful 
 detractions which are so rife in the world, and so much 
 poison all communication, we shall find the main root of them 
 to be a want of industry in men, or of diligent attendance on 
 their own matters, which would leave them little desire or 
 leisure to search into, or comment upon other men's actions 
 and concerns." Barrow. 
 
 The term Censoriousness seems to imply a notable desire 
 of finding fault with, or condemning the conduct of others. 
 " Detraction respecteth especially worthy persons, good qua- 
 lities, and laudable actions, the reputation of which it aimeth 
 to impair or destroy." Scandal, the giving circulation to evil 
 reports : Gossipping, the hearing and detailing whatever pub- 
 lic or private occurrences may serve to gratify idle curiosity, 
 or to furnish conversation for a vacant hour, but this without 
 a malicious intent. But, with respect both to public and 
 private events and actions, we often hear the same person 
 pronounce judgments utterly inconsistent with his own previ- 
 ous decisions in similar cases, occurring at the very same 
 moment, and which inconsistency we easily trace either to 
 
215 
 
 self-interest or prejudice, or ill will. The censure is often 
 most evidently directed against the sinner not the sin; for 
 men point their finger with scorn at some hapless wretch, who 
 perhaps merits as much pity as blame ; while a person high in 
 office may remain like king David, ignorant of the enormity of 
 his transgressions, until a prophet shall arise and proclaim to 
 him, " Thou also hast done the like deed," ay, and done it 
 possibly not only with far weaker temptations, but with many 
 aggravating circumstances. 
 
 We are very apt likewise to condemn one party, before we 
 have had either time or opportunity to hear the other side of the 
 question ; but the culpable are commonly the least scrupulous, 
 and the most eager to shift the blame off their own shoulders ; 
 whereas, the innocent often find they cannot exculpate them- 
 selves, without attaching an indelible stigma upon some near 
 connexion or friend of theirs, and therefore quietly submit to 
 remain under obloquy ; our rash judgments consequently very 
 frequently injure such, as could prove themselves eminently 
 entitled to our regard and respect. The fear of incurring the 
 vengeance of a superior, also seals the lips of many a slander- 
 ed dependant, who dares not reveal the secret provocations he 
 has received, and which more than counterbalance perhaps 
 the advantages publicly heaped upon him. Whenever there- 
 fore, the tale of scandal reaches our ears, let it excite very 
 lively doubts in our mind, whether appearances be not equally 
 deceitful on this, as we have found them on many other occa- 
 sions ; and both reason and charity forbid our pronouncing a 
 harsh or positive censure against any part of a man's conduct, 
 until we have first obtained unquestionable proofs of his de- 
 linquency. 
 
 Slander. 
 
 " Slander is the uttering false (or equivalent to false, morally 
 false,) speech against our neighbour, in prejudice to his fame, 
 his safety, his welfare, or concernment in any kind, out of 
 
216 
 
 malignity, vanity, rashness, ill-nature, or bad design. But it 
 seemeth most fully intelligible by observing the several kinds 
 and degrees thereof, as also by reflecting on the divers ways 
 and manners of practising it." 
 
 1. " The grossest kind of slander is that which, in the De- 
 calogue is called, bearing false testimony against our neigh- 
 bour ; that is, flatly charging him with facts which he is no 
 wise guilty of, as in the case when men were suborned to say, 
 Naboth did blaspheme God and the king. This kind is in the 
 highest way (that is, in judicial proceedings), is more rare, and 
 of all men, they who are detected to practise it, are held most 
 vile and infamous, as being plainly the most pernicious and 
 perilous instruments of injustice, the most desperate enemies 
 of all men's right and safety that can be. This palpably is the 
 supreme pitch of calumny, incapable of any qualification or 
 excuse. Hell cannot go beyond this the cursed fiend him- 
 self cannot worse employ his wit than in minting wrongful 
 falsehoods." 
 
 2. " Another kind is, affixing scandalous names, injurious 
 epithets, and odious characters upon persons which they de- 
 serve not ; as when the apostles were charged of being pesti- 
 lent, turbulent, factious, and seditious fellows. This sort is very 
 common, and thence in ordinary repute not so bad, yet in just 
 estimation, perhaps, at least equal to the former, as doing to 
 our neighbour more heavy and more irreparable wrong ; for it 
 imposeth on him really more blame, and that such which he 
 can hardly shake off, because the charge signifieth a habit of 
 evil, and includeth many acts; these being general and in- 
 definite, can scarce be disproved. He, for instance, that call- 
 eth a sober man, drunkard, doth impute to him many acts of 
 such intemperance (some really past, others probably future), 
 and no particular time or place being specified, how can a man 
 clear himself of that imputation, especially with those who 
 are not thoroughly acquainted with his conversation ? So he 
 
217 
 
 that calleth a man unjust, proud, hypocritical, doth load him 
 with very grievous faults, which it is sometimes not possible 
 that the most innocent person should discharge himself from." 
 
 3. " Like to that kind is the following aspersing a man's 
 actions with harsh censures and foul terms, importing that 
 they proceed from ill principles, or tend to bad ends, so as it 
 doth not and cannot appear. Thus when we say of him that 
 is prudently frugal, that he is niggardly ; of him that is cheer- 
 ful and free in his conversation, that he is vain and loose ; of 
 him that is conspicuous and brisk in virtuous practice, that it 
 is ambition or ostentation which impels him. Whoever, I 
 say, pronounceth concerning his neighbour's intentions other- 
 wise than as they are evidently expressed by words, or signi- 
 fied by overt actions, is a slanderer. All words are ambiguous 
 and capable of different senses (some fair, some more foul) ; 
 all actions have two handles, one that candour and charity 
 will, another that disingenuity and spite may lay hold on; 
 and in such cases to misapprehend is a calumnious procedure, 
 arguing malignant disposition and mischievous design." 
 
 4. " Another sort of this practice is, partial and lame re- 
 presentation of men's discourse or their practice, suppressing 
 some part of the truth in them, or concealing some circum- 
 stances about them, which might serve to explain, to excuse, 
 or to extenuate them. In such a manner easily, without utter- 
 ing any logical untruth, one may yet grievously calumniate. 
 Thus, suppose that a man speaketh a thing upon supposition, 
 or with exception, or in way of objection, or merely for dis- 
 putation sake, in order to the discussion or clearing of truth ; 
 he that should report him asserting it absolutely, unlimitedly, 
 positively, and peremptorily, as his own settled judgment, 
 would notoriously calumniate. If one should be inveigled by 
 fraud, or driven by violence, or slip by chance into a bad place 
 or bad company, he that should so represent the gross of that 
 accident, as to breed an opinion that, out of disposition and 
 
218 
 
 design that person did put himself there, doth slanderously 
 abuse him. The reporter in such cases must not think to de- 
 fend himself by pretending that he spake nothing false, for 
 such propositions, however true in logic, may justly be deemed 
 lies in morality. There are slanderous truths as well as slan- 
 derous falsehoods when truth is uttered with a deceitful 
 heart and to a base end, it becomes a lie." 
 
 5. " Calumnious tongues pervert the judgments of men to 
 think ill of the most innocent, and meanly of the worthiest ac- 
 tions. Even commendation itself is often used calumniously, 
 with intent to breed dislike and ill-will toward a person com- 
 mended in envious or jealous ears; or so as to give passage to 
 dispraises, and render the accusations following more credible ; 
 'tis an artifice commonly observed to be much in use there 
 where the finest tricks of supplanting are practised with greatest 
 effect, so that there is no greater pestilent enemy than a ma- 
 levolent praiser. All these kinds of dealing, as they issue 
 from the principles of slander and perform its work, so they 
 deservedly bear the guilt thereof." 
 
 6. " A like kind is that of oblique and covert reflections ; 
 when a man doth not directly or expressly charge his neigh- 
 bour with faults, but yet so speaketh that he is understood, or 
 reasonably presumed to do it. This is a very cunning and 
 mischievous way of slandering, for therein the skulking calum- 
 niator keepeth a reserve for himself, and cutteth off from the 
 person concerned the means of defence. If he goeth to 
 clear himself from the matter of such aspersions, what need, 
 saith this insidious speaker, of that? Must I needs mean 
 you? Did I name you? Why then do you assume it to 
 yourself? Do you not prejudge yourself guilty ? I did not, 
 but your own conscience, it seemeth, doth accuse you. You 
 are jealous and suspicious as persons overwise or guilty 
 used to be. So meaneth this serpent out of the hedge, se- 
 curely and with certainty to bite his neighbour, and is in that 
 
219 
 
 respect, if possible, more base and more hurtful than the most 
 base and positive slanderer." 
 
 7. " Another kind is that of magnifying and aggravating 
 people's faults ; raising any small miscarriage into a heinous 
 crime, any slender defect into an odious vice, and any common 
 infirmity into a strange enormity, magnifying a small mote in 
 the eye of our neighbour into a huge beam. It is not only 
 slander to pick a hole where there is none, but to make that 
 wider which is, so that it appeareth more ugly and cannot so 
 easily be mended ; for charity is wont to extenuate faults, jus- 
 tice doth never exaggerate them." 
 
 8. " A no less base slander is, the imputing to our neigh- 
 bour's practice, judgment, or profession, evil consequences 
 (apt to render him odious or despicable), which have no de- 
 pendence on, or connexion with them. There do in every 
 age occur disorders and mishaps springing from various com- 
 plications of causes, working some of them in a more open and 
 discernible, others in a more secret and subtile way. Those 
 who are so disposed, are ready peremptorily to charge them 
 upon whomever they dislike or dissent from, although without 
 any apparent cause, or upon most frivolous and senseless pre- 
 tences, yea, when reason sheweth the quite contrary, and 
 they who are so charged are in the just esteem of all men, the 
 least obnoxious to such accusations. So usually the best 
 friends of mankind, those who most heartily wish the peace 
 and prosperity of the world, and most earnestly to their power 
 strive to promote them, have all the disturbances and disasters 
 happening, charged on them by those fiery vixens who (in pur- 
 suance of their base designs, or gratification of their wild 
 passions,) really do themselves embroil things, and raise mise- 
 rable combustions in the world. So it is also that they, who 
 have the conscience to do mischief, will have the confidence 
 also to disavow the blame, and the iniquity to lay the burthen 
 of it on those who are most innocent ; so liable are the best 
 
and most innocent sort of men to be calumniously accused in 
 this manner." 
 
 9. " Another practice (worthily bearing the guilt of slan- 
 der) is, being aiding and accessory thereto. He that by crafty 
 significations of ill-will doth prompt the slanderer to vent his 
 poison ; he that by a willing audience and credulous approba- 
 tion expresseth a delightful complacence therein, as he is a 
 partner in the fact, so he is a sharer in the guilt. There are 
 not only slanderous throats but slanderous ears also ; not only 
 wicked inventions, which engender and brood lies, but wicked 
 assents, which hatch and foster them. It is such friends and 
 patrons of them who are the causes that they are so rife, who 
 set ill-natured, base, and' designing people upon devising, 
 searching after, and picking up malicious and idle stories. 
 Were it not for such customers, the trade of calumniating 
 would fall; many pursue it out of servility and flattery, to 
 tickle the ears, to soothe the humour, to gratify the malignant 
 disposition or ill-will of others, but who would, upon the least 
 discouragement, give over the practice. If therefore, we 
 would exempt ourselves from all guilt of slander, we must not 
 only abstain from venting it, but forbear to regard or counte- 
 nance it ; yea, if we thoroughly would be clear of it we must 
 shew an aversation from hearing it, an unwillingness to believe 
 it, an indignation against it. If we would stop our ears we 
 should stop the slanderer's mouth; if we would resist the 
 calumniator, he would fly from us; if we would reprove him, we 
 should repel him ; for as the north wind driveth away rain, 
 so (the wise man telleth us) doth an angry countenance a back- 
 biting tongue" 
 
 " He that breweth lies may have more wit and skill, but the 
 broacher sheweth the like malice and wickedness. In this 
 there is no great difference between the arch-devil that fram- 
 eth scandalous reports, and the little imps that run about and 
 disperse them." 
 
221 
 
 " The tongue is a sharp and parlous weapon, which we are 
 bound to keep up in the sheath, or never to draw forth but 
 advisedly and upon just occasion it must ever be wielded 
 with caution and care : to brandish it wantonly, to lay about 
 with it blindly and furiously, to slash and smite therewith 
 any that happeth to come in our way, doth argue malice or 
 madness." 
 
 " Since our faculty of speech (wherein we do excel all other 
 creatures) was given us, as in the first place to praise and glo- 
 rify our Maker, so in the next to benefit and help our neigh- 
 bour, as an instrument of mutual succour and delectation, of 
 friendly commerce and pleasant converse together, for in- 
 structing and advising, comforting and cheering one another, 
 it is an unnatural perverting, and an irrational abuse thereof, 
 to employ it to the damage, disgrace, vexation, or wrong in 
 any kind, of our brother; better indeed had we been as 
 brutes, without its use, than we are, if so worse than brutishly 
 we abuse it." 
 
 " As good nature and ingenuous disposition incline men to 
 observe, like, and commend, what appeareth best in their 
 neighbour ; so malignity of temper and heart prompteth them 
 to espy and catch at the worst ; one, as a bee, gathereth honey 
 out of any herb ; the other, as a spider, sucketh poison out of 
 the sweetest flower." Barrow. 
 
 Satirical) Sarcastic. 
 
 The satirical are apt to ridicule the mistakes, awkwardnesses, 
 faults, errors, and crimes, of men, either from an earnest de- 
 sire of warning others, or merely to indulge their satirical hu- 
 mour, or to gratify their spleen. 
 
 To Reflect, Consider) Deliberate) Ponder. 
 We are more or less disposed to reflect, &c. with good or 
 bad intentions, upon any thing whatsoever, upon what we shall 
 
222 
 
 do or say, and upon what has been said or done, or proposed, 
 either by ourselves or others. 
 
 To Design, Contrive, Plan, Scheme. 
 
 Also to design, or contrive, or plan, any measures or things, 
 in a variety of ways, suitable to our own wants or desires, or 
 to the wishes or wants of others, and either for a good or bad 
 purpose. 
 
 To Consult, to take Advice, Counsel, $c. 
 
 Most men are disposed, more or less, to consult those they 
 deem likely to advise them judiciously, or to suggest the means 
 of more readily accomplishing their designs of whatever tendency 
 they be. " We are all short-sighted, and consequently can seldom 
 perceive every thing that has a connexion with the subject we 
 would consider. From this defect I think no man is free, and 
 therefore it is no wonder that, from our partial views, we are 
 apt to make false conclusions. This might instruct the proud- 
 est esteemer of his own parts how useful it is to talk and con- 
 sult with others, even such as come short of him in capacity, 
 quickness, and penetration ; for since no one sees all, and we 
 generally have different prospects of the same thing, accord- 
 ing to our different, as I may say, positions to it, it is not in- 
 congruous to think, nor beneath any man to try, whether 
 another may not have notions of things which have escaped 
 him, and which his reason would make use of, if they came into 
 his mind." 
 
 To Advise, Counsel, Recommend, Caution, Admonish, Warn. 
 We are disposed, more or less, to offer or to intrude our ad- 
 vice, counsel, &c. upon others, with either a good or bad in- 
 tention, or impertinently. 
 
223 
 
 Officious, Meddling, Interfering. 
 
 Some persons are disposed, more or less officiously, to med- 
 dle or interfere with the concerns of others in various ways. 
 " Every man having burthen enough on his shoulders, im- 
 posed by God and nature, it is vain to take on him more load, 
 by engaging himself in the affairs of others ; he will thence 
 be forced, either to shake off his own business, or be op- 
 pressed with more than he can bear. It is indeed hence ob- 
 servable, and it must needs happen, that those who officiously 
 meddle with other men's concerns are wont to neglect their 
 own ; they that are much abroa^ can seldom be at home ; 
 they that know others most are least acquainted with them- 
 selves. Whence it is scarce possible that a "pragmatical 
 man should be a good man ; that is, such a one as honestly 
 and carefully performeth the manifold duties incumbent on 
 him." But a man may upon proper occasions shew both great 
 judgment and much humanity, by timely interposing his good 
 offices between contending parties. 
 
 Positive, Dogmatical. 
 
 Many persons are apt to be positive, dogmatical, as if they 
 would absolutely impose their opinions upon the rest of the 
 world. 
 
 Dictatorial. 
 
 Others are inclined to be more or less dictatorial, often to 
 assume an authority to which they are not entitled. 
 
 To Reprimand, Reprove, Chide, Scold. 
 We reprimand more or less judiciously, or capriciously 
 those subjected to our authority, or who have offended or in- 
 jured us. 
 
 To Reproach, Upbraid. 
 
 And to reproach or upbraid those we imagine have any way 
 wronged us, or disgraced or injured themselves or others. 
 
224 
 
 To Expostulate. 
 
 We expostulate with such as we think likely to listen to 
 reason, or to be diverted from any imprudent or evil act, or 
 from doing any thing contrary to our wishes. 
 
 To Persuade. 
 
 And endeavour to persuade those we wish to comply with 
 our request, orders, &c. whether for their's or some other per- 
 son's advantage, or for our own. 
 
 To Argue, Dispute. 
 
 Men are disposed to argue and dispute upon any subject 
 with more or less ingenuousness and warmth, from the desire 
 of either communicating or obtaining information, or to per- 
 suade to good, or from vanity : also more or less craftily, ei- 
 ther from a spirit of contradiction, or to entice to evil. 
 
 To Debate. 
 
 Also to debate any subject, in order to obtain the advan- 
 tages often to be derived from the united experience of 
 
 others. 
 
 To Contradict. 
 
 Some persons are disposed to contradict from mere per- 
 
 verseness. 
 
 To Enlighten. 
 
 The well-disposed are pleased to think they have it in their 
 power to assist others in solving their doubts, and satisfying 
 their minds, by attempting the exposition of truth, 
 
 To Embarrass, Confuse, Perplex. 
 
 But in doing so they sometimes only confuse and perplex 
 them. Men also often, more or less embarrass others for evil 
 purposes. 
 
225 
 
 To Ask, Request, Petition, Solicit, Importune, Intreat, 
 Implore, Supplicate. 
 
 We are disposed to enforce our requests with more or less 
 earnestness or importunity, according to the degree of uneasi- 
 ness we suffer, from not readily obtaining what we desire to 
 
 have. 
 
 To Acknowledge, Avow, Confess. 
 
 Men more or less readily acknowledge and confess their 
 mistakes, errors, faults, and crimes. 
 
 Captious, Contentious, Quarrelsome, Cavilling, Wrangling. 
 
 Many persons have a bad habit of contending, wrangling, 
 &c. others are maliciously disposed to it. 
 
 To Affront, Insult. 
 
 Some seek occasions to affront or insult others ; some do it 
 unavoidably, some wantonly, and others heedlessly. 
 
 To Flout, Gibe, Jeer, Deride, Scoff. 
 
 There are men so base as to deride and scoff not only the 
 unworthy, but also the unfortunate. 
 
 To Mock. 
 
 Some mock or imitate the words and actions or appearance 
 of others, with the express intention of causing them pain. 
 
 To Abuse, Taunt, Jtevile, 
 
 There are persons who, when angry, give full reins to 
 their tongue, and utter the most opprobrious epithets their 
 language furnishes them with. 
 
226 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Ambition, Desire of Pleasure.-^ Desire of Independence. -Desire of Power. Desire 
 
 of Wealth. 
 
 The Desire of Superiority, or Ambition. 
 
 AMBITION is the desire of excelling some one or more of our 
 fellow-creatures, whether it be in doing good or in doing evil. 
 It seems to have been implanted in us, in order to direct our 
 views towards the attainment of perfection in all things, but 
 the option of good or evil has necessarily been left to us in this, 
 as in the other directing dispositions, otherwise we should be 
 alike devoid both of virtue and of vice. 
 
 The objects of ambition are as numerous as the pursuits of 
 man. Men often aim to govern more rationally, or more des- 
 potically, than their contemporaries or predecessors, of being 
 more famed in arms or in council, or in any one or more of the 
 arts or sciences, of being more luxurious or simple, more 
 intemperate or austere, &c. in short, upon all occasions in 
 which they aspire to rise above the point others have reached, 
 they are moved by Ambition. He who strives to distance his 
 competitors in any useful and laudable undertaking, makes 
 the right use of that desire of excellence, which is one of his 
 noblest propensities, and when so directed, we call it the true, 
 in contra-distinction to false ambition or vainglory, a glory 
 that invariably terminates, as is reasonably to be expected, in 
 vanity and vexation of spirit. True glory consists in doing 
 
227 
 
 the greatest practicable degree of good, with the least possible 
 mixture of evil. 
 
 Desire of Pleasure. 
 
 We appear to have been indulgently gifted with the desire 
 of Pleasure, in order to qualify us for the more lively enjoy- 
 ment of our existence, by disposing us to seek agreeably to fill 
 up many of the dull vacuities of life. Without it, we should 
 still be capable of receiving pleasure by the ordinary opera- 
 tions of things upon our several senses, but the desire of plea- 
 sure leads us to contrive the renewal of those perceptions we 
 find grateful to us, and to vary them according to our fancies. 
 
 It often urges us to climb the lofty hill, to court the balmy 
 air, to gaze on beautiful prospects, to pluck fragrant flowers, 
 to listen to the warbling of birds, to indulge the flights of 
 imagination, to seek the society of the learned, the eloquent, 
 the sprightly, the accomplished, the young, the beautiful, the 
 graceful, &c. To travel in foreign countries, to examine works 
 of art, &c. Nature has in truth, provided us so vast a fund 
 of innocent, nay absolutely salutary pleasures, they being most 
 of them so when enjoyed with moderation, that she has left us 
 no excuse for abusing her gifts. 
 
 A man of pleasure is one, who seeks continually to excite 
 and to gratify his appetites or senses, without taking into 
 account the future consequences of such indulgences ; in other 
 words, his desire of pleasure is paramount to his desire of 
 good. The Ambitious, on the contrary, live as it were, always 
 for the future, voluntarily submitting to present toil and priva- 
 tions, in order to accomplish some favourite object. Ambition 
 raised Marc Antony to his high command in the Roman Re- 
 public, the desire of pleasure delivered him over an abject 
 slave to the famed Cleopatra. 
 
 The history and biography of all ages furnish proofs that 
 
228 
 
 the mind of every man eminent for wisdom, was chiefly regu- 
 lated by the desire of good, and that the disturbers of man- 
 kind have, on the contrary, no less evidently been the sport 
 of their own inordinate ambition, desire of pleasure, &c. 
 
 Louis the Fourteenth was alternately the slave of his ambition, 
 his vanity, and of his desire of pleasure ; but he finally, it is said, 
 both perceived and acknowledged his errors, and expressed his 
 most earnest wish, that his posterity might steadily maintain 
 peace, and thus permanently relieve the then deeply suffering 
 nation. But his successor no way profited by the experience and 
 recorded admonitions of his grandfather. In Louis the Fif- 
 teenth, on the contrary, we behold a most striking example of the 
 horrible excesses into which the unbridled desire of pleasure, 
 and unbounded prodigality, precipitates man. Too many of 
 his contemporaries lived to witness the cruel catastrophe, that 
 overwhelmed the virtuous Louis the Sixteenth, a catastrophe the 
 voluptuous monarch had most wantonly prepared for himself, 
 but he did not however escape it unpunished, for outraged na- 
 ture herself resented his gross violation of all decency. 
 
 The desire of good caused the amiable Henry the Fourth, 
 earnestly to aim at promoting the welfare of his subjects, unhap- 
 pily, however, his desire of pleasure, for want of due control, 
 cast a shade over his character ; whereas, the desire of good 
 absolutely swayed the mind of the great Alfred. He proved 
 himself truly the father of his people, enlightening them by 
 his precepts, and stimulating them by his exemplary conduct ; 
 and the fervent spirit of independence he infused into the 
 inhabitants of this distinguished Island, at that dark and re- 
 mote period, still remains to guard his principal and matchless 
 institution, to immortalize his name, and to endear it not only 
 to every friend of' Britain, but of humanity. 
 
 Emulation. 
 . Emulation seems to be synonymous with laudable ambition ; 
 
229 
 
 for when we excite emulation amongst children, what is it, but 
 ambition that we stir in them ? And, in doing so, we cannot 
 too carefully guard against provoking their envy and jealousy. 
 But the propensity in human nature to delight in superiority, 
 may however be rendered highly useful both to the teacher 
 and the pupil, if great care be taken to keep it within due 
 bounds, and to attach only a proper degree of importance se- 
 verally to each advantage, that may be derived from nature, 
 or acquired by care and study. And the teacher, while he 
 excites emulation, ought, in order to check presumption, to 
 take frequent occasion to remind his successful pupil, that 
 every one gifted with distinguished talents, is justly expected 
 proportionately to excel his competitors ; and that it is to be 
 ascertained, if he have not more cause for humiliation than 
 pride, upon comparing his acquirements with his superior 
 powers and opportunities of improving himself. Besides, if 
 he excel them in one respect, they may possibly have some 
 advantage over him in another. 
 
 Competition, Rivalry. 
 
 We are disposed to be competitors or rivals for any ad- 
 vantage whatsoever, whether real or supposed. 
 
 Elated. 
 And to be more or less elated with our success. 
 
 Of Vainglory. 
 
 When a regard to the opinion or desire of the esteem of 
 men, is the main principle from which their actions do pro- 
 ceed, or the chief end which they propound to themselves, in- 
 stead of conscience, of duty, love, and reverence of God, hope 
 of the rewards promised, and a sober regard to their true 
 good, this is Vainglory. Also, when they delight in praise 
 for mean or indifferent things, as for secular dignity, power, 
 
230 
 
 wealth, strength, beauty, wit, learning, eloquence, &c. for 
 there are many (saith the Psalmist) that boast themselves in 
 the multitude of their riches, but honor should be affected 
 only for true virtue, and really good works. 
 
 When men covet praise unreasonably, not being content 
 with that measure of good reputation, which naturally doth 
 arise from a virtuous and blameless life. As all other goods, 
 so this should be desired moderately. When they are un- 
 willing to part with the esteem of men upon any account, but 
 rather will desert their duty, than endure disgrace ; prizing 
 the opinion of men before the favour and approbation of 
 God. When they pursue it irregularly, are cunning and po- 
 litic to procure it, hunt for it in oblique ways, lay gins, traps, 
 and baits for it ; such are ostentation of things commendable, 
 fair speeches, kind looks, and gestures, &c. devoid of since- 
 rity ; these, and similar ways ambitious and popular men do 
 use. This practice upon many accounts is vain and culpable, 
 and produceth great inconveniences. It is vain because un- 
 certain. How easily are the judgments of men altered ! how 
 fickle are their conceits ! The wind of Heaven is not more 
 fleeting and variable. In a trice the case is turned with them, 
 they admire and scorn, they approve and condemn, they ap- 
 plaud and reproach, they court and persecute the same man, 
 as their fancy is casually moved, or as fortune doth favour a 
 person. Histories are full of instances of persons, who have 
 been now the favourites of the people, presently the objects 
 of their hatred and obloquy. It is vain because unsatisfac- 
 tory. How can a man be satisfied with the opinions of bad 
 judges, who esteem a man without good grounds, commonly 
 for things not deserving regard, who cannot discern those 
 things which really deserve commendation, good principles 
 and honest intention ? those God only can know, these wise 
 and good men only can well guess at ; it is vain, therefore, 
 much to prize any judgment but that of God, and of wise 
 
231 
 
 men, which are but few. Praise becometh not the mouth of a 
 fool? 
 
 " How also can a man rationally be pleased with the com- 
 mendation of others, who is sensible of his so great defects, 
 and conscious to himself of so many miscarriages ? which con- 
 sidering, he should be ashamed to receive, he should in him- 
 self blush to own any praise. It is ugly and unseemly to men, 
 they despise nothing more than the acting out of this prin- 
 ciple. It misbecometh a man to perform things for so pitiful 
 a reward, or to look upon it as a valuable recompence for his 
 performances, there being considerations so vastly greater to 
 induce and encourage him, the satisfaction of conscience, the 
 pleasing God and procuring his favour, the obtaining of eter- 
 nal happiness." 
 
 " It is observable that the word ^*?PP signifieth to praise 
 or applaud, and also to infatuate or make mad." Barrow. 
 
 Abstemiousness, Temperance, Intemperance. 
 
 The terms Temperance and Intemperance are applied to 
 the degree of use we make of any of our faculties, or of any 
 thing that riches can procure us, either to satisfy our natural 
 wants, or to gratify any of our senses, in any manner whatso- 
 ever. 
 
 Economy and extravagance to the expenditure of our wealth, 
 in proportion to the interest or principal of it. 
 
 Abstemiousness is the not using our faculties, or one or 
 more things, to the degree that is compatible with health and 
 virtue. Temperance, the using them to the degree that is 
 compatible with both. Excess, the using them to a degree 
 that is prejudicial to both. 
 
 Upon consulting general experience we shall learn, that 
 both the healthy and the sickly are to be found indifferently 
 amongst the abstemious, the temperate, and the intemperate. 
 But we must recollect, that men are so differently constituted, 
 
232 
 
 and their constitutions so variously strengthened or weakened 
 by education and circumstances, that some are far better able 
 to resist the effects of bad habits than others, and that it yet 
 remains to be ascertained, whether those who have apparently 
 continued to suffer the least from their excesses, might not 
 have enjoyed more perfect health, both of mind and body, and 
 had their life protracted many years, if they would have sub- 
 jected their several appetites and inclinations, to the rules 
 prescribed by Temperance. 
 
 " What dext'rous thousands just within the goal, 
 Of wild debauch, direct their nightly course ! 
 Perhaps no sickly qualms bedim their days, 
 No morning admonitions shock the head ; 
 But ah ! what woes remain ! life rolls apace 
 And that incurable disease old age, 
 In youthful bodies more severely felt, 
 More sternly active, shakes the blasted prime, 
 Except kind nature by some hasty blow, 
 Prevent the ling'ring fates ; for know whate'er 
 Beyond its natural fervour hurries on 
 The sanguine tide, whether the frequent bowl, 
 High-seasoned fare, or exercise to toil 
 Protracted, spurs to its last stage tir'd life, 
 And sows the temples with untimely snows." Armstrong. 
 
 The sickly may be found amongst the temperate, because 
 our constitution and state of health depend, as we have just ob- 
 served, upon a combination of circumstances, and not upon 
 any one exclusively; moreover, temperance will perhaps be 
 found to have saved the weak, as often as excess has been 
 known to have destroyed the strong. Were it practicable to 
 make a census of the numbers that have fallen victims prema- 
 turely to intemperance, and could the evils they have in the 
 mean time respectively endured be discovered, even the most 
 eager votaries to pleasure might perhaps be startled, and pause 
 a moment to consider, whether the longest possible continued 
 
233 
 
 succession of the most lively enjoyments, were worth pur- 
 chasing at so fearful a price. 
 
 " War its thousands slays, 
 
 Peace its ten thousands. In the embattl'd plains, 
 Tho' death exults and claps his raven wings, 
 Yet reigns he not ev'n there so absolute, 
 So merciless, as in yon frantic scenes 
 Of midnight revel, and tumultuous mirth ; 
 Where in th' intoxicating draught conceal'd, 
 Or couch'd beneath the glance of lawless love, 
 He snares the simple youth, who nought suspecting, 
 Means to be blest, but finds himself undone ; 
 Torn immature from life's meridian joys 
 A prey to vice, intemp'rance, and disease." Porteus. 
 
 We class monks, hermits, cynics, &c. together, as professing 
 at least, extreme Abstinence. But general experience seems 
 to prove their principles quite contrary to our nature, since 
 they are neither happier nor more virtuous than the rest of 
 mankind, notwithstanding the many and extraordinary painful 
 sacrifices their doctrines often require of them. 
 
 " Some sunk to beasts find pleasure end in pain, 
 
 Some swell'd to Gods confess ev'n Virtue vain." Pope. 
 
 " Tis the great art of life to manage well 
 The restless mind : for ever on pursuit of 
 Knowledge bent, it starves the grosser pow'rs ; 
 Quite unemploy'd, against its own repose 
 It turns its fatal edge, and sharper pangs 
 Than what the body feels, embitter life. 
 Chiefly where Solitude, sad nurse of care ! 
 To sickly musings gives the pensive mind : 
 There Madness enters, and the dim-ey'd fiend, 
 Sour Melancholy, night and day provokes 
 Her own eternal wound ; the sun grows pale ; 
 A mournful visionary light o'erspreads 
 The cheerful face of nature ; earth becomes 
 A dreary desert, and Heav'n frowns above ; 
 Then various shapes of curs'd illusion rise, 
 
234 
 
 Whate'er the wretched fears, creating fear 
 Forms out of nothing, and with monsters teem 
 Unknown in hell. The prostrate soul beneath 
 A load of huge imagination heaves, 
 And all the horror that the murderer feels, 
 With anxious flutterings, wake the guiltless breast. 
 ***** 
 
 And some for love, and some for jealousy, 
 For grim religion some, and some for pride, 
 Have lost their reason." Armstrong. 
 
 If we examine the conduct of the rich in general, at all pe- 
 riods of time, and in all countries, in monarchies and in repub- 
 lics, amongst the laity and amongst the clergy, we perceive the 
 reverse of this picture, men in the more or less eager pursuit 
 of every variety of pleasure. We find they expended, and do 
 continue to expend their wealth principally, in building pa- 
 laces, in furnishing them sumptuously, in collecting statues, 
 pictures, rarities, &c. in dressing splendidly, in hiring numerous 
 servants and retainers, in giving banquets, in employing musi- 
 cians, singers, dancers, in assembling the gay, witty, and well- 
 bred, in obtaining rank, power, fame, &c. and that they have 
 done and still do these things, without incurring reproach, unless 
 they, directly or indirectly, have been guilty of injustice, or 
 committed vile excesses. Yet many of those who require the 
 most various and expensive amusements, themselves often act, 
 as if they would deny the poor the enjoyment of even such 
 recreations as are suitable to their condition. But nature, 
 with more justice, has rendered all extremes, whether of con- 
 tinual labour or dissipation, want or gluttony, injurious to us. 
 Too much leisure tends to make us hypochondriacal, or to 
 corrupt us ; too little to exhaust us : want renders us gloomy 
 and ferocious, gluttony stupid and unfeeling. 
 
 " Gross riot treasures up a wealthy fund 
 Of plagues, but more unmedicable ills 
 Attend the lean extreme ; for physic knows 
 
235 
 
 How to disburden the too tumid veins, 
 
 Ev'n how to ripen the half-labour'd blood ; 
 
 But to unlock the elemental tubes 
 
 Collaps'd and shrunk with long inanity, 
 
 And with balsamic nutriment repair 
 
 The dried and worn out habit, were to bid 
 
 Old age grow green, and wear a second spring." 
 
 Armstrong. 
 
 Temperance, or rather abstinence in all things, is but too 
 often imposed upon the needy, but the affluent, in the midst 
 of their abundance, may with advantage recollect, that " the 
 strength of the mightiest is given him to help the weakest, 
 and wealth to the richest to supply the poorest." Barrow. 
 
 The evil effects of Abstinence seem to assure us, that man 
 errs in refusing to enjoy with moderation, the many pleasures 
 that present themselves to his acceptance : the pernicious con- 
 sequences of Intemperance, warn us we are not born to mono- 
 polize the fruits of the earth ; and the advantages secured to 
 us in the long run, by the observance of Temperance, point 
 out to us the happy medium that nature prescribes to the 
 mortal, most favoured in the possession of both health and 
 wealth. 
 
 Self-Denial. 
 
 Experience teaches us, that to maintain a sound mind in a 
 sound body, we must early and steadily practise a wholesome 
 degree of self-denial, most particularly the rich, they being so 
 continually exposed to numerous and strong temptations to 
 exceed the golden rule ; but he that commonly keeps within it, 
 is the most effectually prepared, either to enjoy a prosperous, 
 or patiently to encounter an adverse fate. 
 
 Moderate, Immoderate. 
 
 We are disposed to use all things with a greater or less de- 
 gree of moderation. 
 
236 
 
 Luxurious^ Voluptuous, Austere. 
 Consequently to be more or less luxurious or austere. 
 
 Gambling. 
 
 " Ah ! quit a place where strong temptations try, 
 And since 'tis hard to combat, learn to fly." 
 
 Ruin and self-destruction have, as is too well known, quickly 
 terminated the career of very many of the votaries to this 
 appalling vice. 
 
 Whatever mode of education is best adapted to establish 
 habits of industry and virtue in young people, and to afford 
 them that wholesome variety of exercises and amusements, 
 suitable to their very lively and active imagination, must 
 doubtless prove the most effectual security against the bane- 
 ful attractions of the gaming-table. Mismanagement is, on 
 the contrary, likely to occasion the indolent to fall an easy 
 prey to sharpers, who are ever on the look-out to inveigle the 
 inexperienced, while the ardent and impatient seldom wait to 
 be invited to do either good or evil. 
 
 There does not appear to be any propensity whatsoever 
 more difficult to keep within due bounds, and this perhaps is 
 owing to its fully occupying the mind, at the expense of a very 
 trifling exertion, and to its continually and highly exciting the 
 attention, by the immediate prospect of loss or gain. We can 
 thus easily explain why young men, who cannot be roused to 
 the earnest pursuit of any profession or trade, by which they 
 might hope eventually to acquire an honourable independence, 
 will yet be found too ready to devote themselves unweariedly 
 to play. It must, of course, also require a no less extraordi- 
 nary effort to subdue a confirmed habit of this vice, for the 
 dreadful vacuity occasioned by the loss of the easy employment, 
 and of the accustomed very powerful stimulus, reduces men's 
 minds at first to a state of almost insupportable irritation, and 
 as the present uneasiness is apt to prevail, few have the cou- 
 
237 
 
 rage to make a timely retreat from such a bewitching allure- 
 ment. 
 
 Drunkenness. 
 
 We here find another vice that strikingly proves the neces- 
 sity of constant attention to our habits of life, lest they gradually 
 master us, and that we, without farther struggle, finally sur- 
 render ourselves to their potent influence* In adversity some 
 
 " Too weakly indolent to strive with pain, 
 And bravely by resisting conquer fate ; 
 Try Circe's arts, and in the tempting bowl 
 Of poison'd nectar, sweet oblivion swill. 
 Struck by the powerful charm, the gloom dissolves 
 In empty air, Elysium opens round, 
 A pleasing phrenzy buoys the lightened soul, 
 And sanguine hopes dispel your fleeting care ; 
 And what was difficult, and what was dire, 
 Yields to your prowess and superior stars : 
 The happiest you of all that ere were mad, 
 Or are, or shall be, could this folly last. 
 But soon your Heav'n is gone ; a heavier gloom 
 Shuts o'er your head : your cares return 
 With tenfold rage. An anxious stomach well 
 May be endur'd, so may the throbbing head ; 
 But such a dim delirium, such a dream 
 Involves you, such a dastardly despair 
 Unmans your soul, as madd'ning Pentheus felt 
 When baited round Cithaeron's cruel sides, 
 He saw two suns, and double Thebes ascend. 
 
 Besides it wounds you sore to recollect 
 What follies in your loose, unguarded hour 
 Escap'd. For one irrevocable word 
 Perhaps that meant no harm, you lose a friend, 
 Or in the rage of wine, your hasty hand 
 Performs a deed to haunt you to your grave : 
 Add, that your means, your health, your parts decay, 
 Your friends avoid you ; brutishly transformed 
 They hardly know you ; or if one remains 
 To wish you well, he wishes you in Heav'n. 
 Despis'd, unwept you fall, who might have left, 
 
238 
 
 A sacred, cherish'd, sadly pleasing name ; 
 
 A name still to be utter'd with a sigh. 
 
 Your last ungraceful scene, has quite effac'd 
 
 All sense and memory of your former worth." Armstrong. 
 
 Desire of Independence or of Liberty. 
 
 All men desire Independence or Liberty. Independence 
 implies the possession of the liberty God has given us to use 
 our several operative faculties, according to the determination 
 of our will. Such is the independence we enjoy in a state of 
 nature, as it is 'called. National independence we find to be 
 the degree of liberty permitted by the established laws of any 
 country, to the citizens respectively ruled by them, and thus 
 each government is termed more or less free, in proportion 
 to the nature and number of restrictions imposed upon the 
 subject. 
 
 Nature seems to have implanted this desire of liberty, or 
 freedom, or independence, or whatsoever else we please to 
 name it, in the breast of man, in order to urge him to act at 
 the impulse of his own mind, to animate him to labour for his 
 own subsistence, and to spurn the thought of thriving without 
 a suitable return, by the sweat of another man's brow, or to 
 depend upon his charity. It renders him averse, also, unsea- 
 sonably to tax the time and patience of his associates, by im- 
 posing upon them the task of amusing him. Both experience 
 and reason very early warn him, that the unbridled indulgence 
 of his several propensities, would infallibly entail upon him 
 various evils, either immediate or remote ; and he is therefore 
 spontaneously induced, to impose a certain degree of restraint 
 upon himself, i. e. in fact, to abridge his own liberty. But if 
 he covet social pleasures, and the innumerable comforts and 
 conveniences arising from the joint labours of a community, 
 he discovers that he must necessarily relinquish a yet larger 
 
239 
 
 portion of it, lest he interfere with the well-being of his coun- 
 trymen, and who cannot, nor will not, remain associated with 
 him upon any other terms. But, 
 
 " All constraint, 
 
 Except what wisdom lays on evil men 
 
 Is Evil : it hurts the faculties, impedes 
 
 Their progress in the road of science ; blinds 
 
 The eye-sight of Discovery, and begets 
 
 In those that suffer it, a sordid mind, 
 
 Bestial, a meagre intellect, unfit 
 
 To be the tenant of man's noble form." Cowper. 
 
 Abject, Servile. 
 
 The abject and servile are wanting in that noble spirit of 
 independence that exalts man in his own estimation, while it 
 dignifies him in the eyes of even the proudest sons of wealth. 
 
 Lawless, Turbulent, Rebellious. 
 
 An inordinate desire of independence leads men to become 
 turbulent, lawless, rebellious, in short, to set the most whole- 
 some authority at defiance, or to escape from it. But exces- 
 sive uneasiness, occasioned by the imposition of severe and 
 unreasonable restraints, will produce the same effect upon 
 persons forming a part, either of a family or community. 
 
 To Resist, Oppose. 
 
 We are disposed to resist, &c. more or less, any reasonable 
 or .unreasonable opposition to our wishes, or any real or sup- 
 posed injustice, &c. 
 
 To Contend. 
 
 And to contend, or try our strength, or power, or arguments, 
 against those that oppose, or resist, or attack us in any manner 
 whatsoever. 
 
240 
 
 To Deny, Refuse. 
 
 Also to deny or refuse any just or unjust claims, any rea- 
 sonable or unreasonable demand, indulgence, &c. 
 
 To Submit, Yield, Surrender. 
 
 The desire of obliging, or a sense of justice, or fear, or a 
 proper want of firmness, &c. may induce us to yield, &c. 
 sooner or later, and more or less entirely, either to entreaties, 
 commands, or threats, &c. 
 
 To Grant, Concede, Comply with. 
 
 We are disposed to grant the wishes, and to comply, c. 
 with the demands of others according to circumstances. 
 
 Desire of Power and of Wealth. 
 
 The desire of Power seems to be the desire of having the 
 option generally to gratify our very various propensities. From 
 our earliest years we perceive that we can obtain or avoid 
 some things and not others ; and, when we find ourselves un- 
 der human restraint or compulsion, we desire to overcome the 
 force that opposes our wishes ; thus it is evident our desire of 
 power must necessarily be coeval with our desire to obtain 
 pleasure and to avoid pain. Shortly after, we no less clearly 
 discern that the rich more or less readily command the services 
 of the multitude, and we gradually learn by what means they 
 enjoy such a distinguished privilege. This discovery is of 
 course soon followed by the desire of wealth, as the main in- 
 strument of power, (it matters not in what the wealth of any 
 country consists.) The desire of power and of wealth appears 
 to us therefore to be scarcely separable, since, if we desire to 
 indulge our inclinations, we must desire also the power of do- 
 
241 
 
 ing so. In some men, however, the desire of power more or 
 less preponderates, in others that of wealth ; but misers even, 
 who make no use of riches, heap together only those things 
 considered wealth, and consequently power, in the country in 
 which they live. 
 
 Many men, we presume, are ambitious without immediately 
 desiring power, in the common acceptation of the word, as 
 there are others who desire power without being directly 
 actuated by ambition. For ambition expresses the desire of 
 not only obtaining a thing, but that the possession of that 
 thing shall absolutely confer a suitable distinction upon the 
 possessor, whereas the desire of power is often merely the de- 
 sire of acquiring the means, of gratifying the desire of plea- 
 sure. A ruler, for instance, may desire to augment his power, 
 expressly that he may surpass all his contemporaries or prede- 
 cessors, as supreme arbiter of men's lives and fortunes, in or- 
 der to administer to them either good or evil ; or he may de- 
 sire it to satisfy the insatiable demands of successive mistresses 
 and favourites, who would mercilessly divide with him the 
 spoils of the people. The many famed conquerors are ex- 
 amples of the first, and voluptuous despots of the second. 
 
 Men may of course also desire wealth, either to favour their 
 ambitious views, or to gratify their sensuality, or their pride, 
 or vanity, or to become " the ministers of bounteous Provi- 
 dence, &c." 
 
 Authoritative, Commanding, Imperious. 
 
 Many men give their orders in an authoritative tone and 
 manner ; some from bad habit, and some from harshness or 
 inordinate pride. 
 
 Arbitrary, Despotical, Tyrannical. 
 
 The latter are apt to exercise their power in a more or less 
 arbitrary and tyrannical manner. 
 
242 
 
 Lenient, Merciful, Harsh, Rigorous, Unrelenting, Obdurate, 
 
 Inexorable. 
 
 The humane are disposed to be lenient and merciful; others 
 harsh, obdurate, &c. Too many of them 
 
 " So little mercy shew, who need so much." 
 
 To Protect, Defend, Support To Forsake, Desert, Abandon. 
 Many are more or less disposed to countenance, protect, 
 and defend, the worthy, defenceless, and persecuted ; others, 
 the powerful and wealthy. Some forsake the vicious, and 
 some the unfortunate. , 
 
 Desire of exclusive Possession of Property. 
 
 Self-love concurred, we suppose, with the desire of good, 
 of ease, and of pleasure, to excite in man the desire of 
 exclusive possession of Property, as soon as he perceived 
 others disputing with him the fruits of the earth or the gratifi- 
 cation of his social affections ; and that he desired this exclu- 
 sive possession, because it would empower him to continue 
 using any thing in the manner and to the degree he might de- 
 sire. The first interference thus probably awakened in him 
 an earnest desire of securing his own independence ; and his 
 subsequent wish must naturally have been, to obtain wealth as 
 a means to induce others voluntarily to administer both to his 
 wants and pleasures. 
 
 Prudent, Extravagant. 
 
 Men are severally disposed, more or less, and in different 
 ways, to be Avaricious, miserly ; or Parsimonious, stingy, nig- 
 gardly, penurious ; or Economical, frugal, thrifty ; or Liberal ; 
 generous, bountiful, munificent; or Extravagant, prodigal, 
 lavish, profuse, wasteful. 
 
243 
 
 Avarice, Parsimony, Economy, Liberality, Prodigality. 
 
 Avarice is the desire of accumulating wealth, without any 
 reference to the advantages to be derived from the use of it. 
 A miser seems commonly to have but two propensities, (save 
 his appetites) the one to preserve his existence, the other to 
 hoard his money ; but the latter is always paramount, for he 
 will risk his health and even his life by continually mortifying his 
 flesh, rather than diminish his treasures. But some misers have 
 been known to bestow large gifts at the very time they were 
 otherwise saving as rigidly as any of their fraternity ; " and 
 these are the only occasions, upon which they do not carry on 
 a perpetual warfare against nature and reason. 
 
 A Parsimonious disposition does not incline a man to" deny 
 himself the necessaries of life, but will rather allow him to en- 
 joy many comforts, nay, some luxuries; it generally, however, 
 prevents his administering even to the most urgent wants of 
 the needy. Saving is his ruling passion, and he commonly keeps 
 all others subordinate to it; but there are degrees of it that are 
 not incompatible with other powerful propensities, and we 
 thus discover frequent and severe struggles between them; 
 sometimes ambition, or vanity, or the desire of pleasure obtain 
 the mastery, and sometimes the desire of wealth. 
 
 An Economist strictly proportions his expenses to his for- 
 tune, and spends more or less liberally within its limits, ac- 
 cording to his general character and situation. 
 
 The Generous observe a liberal economy, for economy 
 is the very foundation of generosity. Unless a man pay all 
 his just debts, and provide what in reason he ought to do 
 for his nearest connexions, whatever he bestows (common 
 charity excepted) he takes away from those who are better 
 entitled to his money; in fact he gives what does not pro- 
 perly belong to him; he is therefore unjust, not generous: 
 but one that makes personal sacrifices in order to assist the 
 
244 
 
 deserving; and to diffuse more widely the blessings God has 
 largely bestowed upon him, is truly generous a character 
 worthy to be venerated, and to be held up as a bright example 
 of human virtue. 
 
 The Prodigal differs not more widely from the avaricious 
 than from the generous, for if the miser takes no account of 
 others, neither does the prodigal, since he will sacrifice as far 
 as he is allowed to do so, the welfare of every one who is any 
 way connected with him to his predominant passion, which is, 
 an inordinate desire of obtaining present pleasure and of avoid- 
 ing present uneasiness. The only difference we can discover 
 between them is, the manner of appropriating to themselves all 
 they covet. The generous, on the contrary, as we have be- 
 fore said, after satisfying every just claim upon them, lay aside 
 whatever they have yet to spare, in order to relieve their dis- 
 tressed brethren ; whereas the prodigal revels without com- 
 punction, at the cost of all whom he can prevail upon to listen 
 to his demands. We are particularly induced to make this 
 comparison between the generous and prodigal, because, in 
 despising wholesome frugality, the latter are very apt to rank 
 themselves amongst the most generous of mankind. 
 
 It does not seem to enter into the calculation of a prodigal 
 to curtail any of his own enjoyments for the benefit of either 
 his family or his creditors ; so far from it, he becomes highly 
 incensed upon any remonstrances being made to him to check 
 his ruinous expenditure, or to refund the sums borrowed ; and 
 he is no less indignant if more be refused him, but 
 
 " Neither a borrower nor a lender be, 
 For loan oft loses both itself and friend." 
 
 It is only from the experience of others, that men can be 
 aware of the mischiefs they may occasion by affording pecuniary 
 aid to a prodigal. He borrows money sometimes for the pur- 
 pose of squandering it, and sometimes with the intention of 
 
245 
 
 more quickly extricating himself from his embarrassments ; but 
 it most frequently happens that habitual self-indulgence proves 
 too powerful against his newly adopted resolutions, and he 
 sinks but the deeper for the assistance tendered him by his 
 mistaken friends. In this case it has no other effect than in- 
 volving many more persons in his difficulties, and of wonder- 
 fully aggravating the misfortunes he entails upon his nearest 
 connexions. They are almost always kept ignorant of every 
 such transaction, until the impatient and alarmed creditor 
 makes application to them for redress ; and thus they find 
 themselves unjustly called upon, not only to relieve the bor- 
 rower, but also to indemnify the lender, who has perhaps 
 on his part too been highly imprudent in parting with his 
 money upon insufficient security ; but this, however, does 
 not always prevent him from including those in his censures 
 and resentment, who have rather great cause to complain of 
 him. In short, if the prodigal ultimately answer all just 
 demands, still the cruel anxieties and mortifications he has 
 wantonly brought upon others, must ever remain in the ba- 
 lance against him. 
 
 " Prodigality begets contempt for sober and orderly plans 
 of life ; it overthrows all regard to domestic concerns and du- 
 ties; it pushes men on to hazardous and visionary schemes 
 of gain, and unfortunately unites the two extremes, of grasp- 
 ing with rapaciousness and of squandering with profusion. 
 Accustomed to move in a round of society and pleasure dis- 
 proportioned to their condition, they are unable to break 
 through the enchantments of habit, and with their eyes open sink 
 into the gulf which is before them. Poverty enforces depend- 
 ence, and dependence increases corruption. Necessity first 
 betrays them into mean compliances, next impels them into 
 open crimes, and, beginning with ostentation and extravagance, 
 they end in infamy and guilt. To what cause, so much as to 
 
246 
 
 the want of order in the conduct of one's worldly affairs, can 
 we attribute those scenes of distress which so frequently ex- 
 cite our pity, families that once were flourishing reduced to 
 want, and the melancholy widow and neglected orphan thrown 
 forth friendless upon the world ? What cause has been more 
 fruitful in engendering those atrocious crimes, which fill society 
 with disquiet and terror, in training the gamester to fraud, the 
 robber to violence, and even the assassin to blood." Blair. 
 
247 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Pride. Vanity. Desire of Change. Desire of Novelty. Curiosity. Desire of 
 Occupation. 
 
 The Consciousness or Belief of Superiority, or Pride* 
 
 THE term pride seems to express the satisfaction we feel in 
 the persuasion, that we possess one or more advantages in a 
 greater degree than some particular persons, in our moral cha- 
 racter ; for instance, in our intellectual faculties, degree of in- 
 formation, manners, &c. and this persuasion stimulates us to 
 maintain our superiority, and to deter us from acting in any 
 manner derogatory to it. It serves likewise to render us care- 
 ful not to sully by unsuitable conduct, the respectability we 
 derive from our adventitious advantages, such as high birth, 
 rank, wealth, &c. Men too are proud of their bodily strength, 
 beauty, &c. 
 
 " In flow'ry youth and beauty's pride." 
 
 It is common to say, " we are too proud to cringe or fawn 
 for favour," i. e. we scorn to degrade ourselves by mean com- 
 pliances, in order to obtain any benefit whatsoever. Pride 
 serves also to check the excessive effusions of vanity, for it 
 takes alarm, and is shocked at our being suspected of an 
 anxiety to display our superiority over others, and thus to 
 betray our ignorance of what is due to their self-love, whence 
 indeed the expression, " too proud to be vain." But pride 
 
248 
 
 without a due mixture of vanity, renders us perhaps more 
 averse than we ought to be, to make those mutual communica- 
 tions from which we derive so many mutual advantages. Per- 
 sons remarkable for pride are apt to be reserved or morose, 
 those for vanity, communicative, or indiscreet. 
 
 Many have fallen victims to the struggles between pride and 
 the desire of pleasure, and thus furnished subjects for the 
 tragic muse, 
 
 Humility. 
 
 Pride is, as we have just observed, the feeling of satisfaction 
 we have in the belief, that we possess a superiority of some 
 sort. Humility, on the contrary, expresses the consciousness 
 of our deficiencies. When we contemplate the infinite per- 
 fections of God, we humble ourselves before him, and ac- 
 knowledge our utter insignificancy, and the immeasurable dis- 
 tance there must ever remain between him and us. In com- 
 paring our wisdom or knowledge with the examples we read of, 
 or behold in human nature, we may be persuaded of our infe- 
 riority. Inordinate pride inclines us to be presumptuous ; ex- 
 treme humility, timid; thus pride is apt to persuade us we 
 have already reached pre-eminence, and humility to prevent 
 our attempting to approach it ; whereas a proper degree of 
 pride inspires us with rational confidence to excel, and a due 
 share of humility serves to convince us we have yet much 
 room for improvement. Such humility, it is evident, arises 
 from our pride being kept within its proper bounds, so as not 
 to blind our reason, which is fitted with the aid of experience 
 to assure us that, even after the most active exercise of our 
 several faculties, during the longest life, we shall still have left 
 undone far more than we have been able to accomplish ; and 
 that from our very frailty, we have ever need of the most vigi- 
 }ant control over our several propensities. 
 
249 
 
 Shame. 
 
 Shame seems to be consequent to wounded pride ; for it im- 
 plies the state of the mind upon the consciousness or detection 
 of any mean, base, or indecent act, by which one may forfeit 
 one's own, or the esteem of one's friends, or the good opinion 
 of the world, and thus have more or less opprobrium affixed 
 to one's name. It arises also from the consciousness or de- 
 tection of a deficiency of some sort, either of possession or 
 ability, and which deficiency a man knows or suspects will 
 lessen his importance in the estimation of others, or prove dis- 
 creditable to him. 
 
 Self-conceit. 
 
 Self-conceit seems to originate in pride, in the want of a 
 proper degree of humility, which would teach us to appreciate 
 ourselves more justly ; but the lively expression of it, we sup- 
 pose, springs from vanity. " Self-conceit is to ' think highly 
 of one's self beyond what one ought to think' This doth con- 
 sist in several acts or instances. Sometimes we in our imagina- 
 tion assume to ourselves perfections not belonging to us in 
 kind or in degree ; we take ourselves to be wise, to be good, 
 when we are not so, at least to be far wiser and better than 
 we are. We commonly presume ourselves to be very consi- 
 derable, very excellent, very extraordinary persons, even when 
 in truth we are very mean and worthless. We make vain 
 judgments upon the things we do possess, prizing them much 
 beyond their true worth and merit, consequently are disposed 
 to overvalue ourselves for owning them." 
 
 " Have we wit ? how witless are we in prizing it, or our- 
 selves for it, when we employ it to no good, not serving God, 
 not benefiting men, not anywise bettering our own condition 
 with it, when we no otherwise use it than to please ourselves 
 or others, that is, to act the part of fools or buffoons. Have 
 we learning or knowledge? then are we rare persons, not consi- 
 dering that many a bad, many a wretched person, hath had 
 
250 
 
 much more than we, who hath used it to the abuse of others, 
 to the torment of himself: and at the best, how defective our 
 knowledge is, how mixed with error and darkness, how useless 
 and vain, yea, how pernicious it is, if not sanctified by God's 
 grace and managed to his service? Have we riches? then 
 are we brave men, as fine and glorious in our conceit as in our 
 outward attire; although the veriest fools, the basest and 
 most miserable of men, do exceed us therein ; although (as 
 Aristotle saith) most either not use it, or abuse it. Have we 
 reputation? how doth that make us highly to repute ourselves 
 in a slavish imitation of others, yet nothing is less substan- 
 tial, nothing is less felt, nothing is more easily lost, a bubble is 
 not sooner burst nor a wave sunk, than is the opinion of 
 men altered concerning us. Have we power ? what doth more 
 raise our minds ? yet what is that commonly but a dangerous 
 instrument of mischief to others, and of ruin to ourselves, at 
 least an engagement to care and trouble ? What but that hath 
 filled the world with disasters and turned all history into tra- 
 gedy ? Have we prosperous success in our affairs ? then we 
 boast and triumph in our hearts, not remembering what the 
 wise man saith, the prosperity of fools destroy eth them, that 
 the wisest men (as Solomon), the best men (as Hezekiah), have 
 been befooled by it." 
 
 " If we reflect either upon the common nature of men, or 
 upon our own constitution, we cannot but find our conceits of 
 our wisdom very absurd. Do we mark how painful the 
 search, and how difficult the comprehension is of any truth ; 
 how hardly the most sagacious can descry any thing ; how ea- 
 sily the most judicious mistake; how the most learned everlast- 
 ingly dispute, and the wisest irreconcileably clash about mat- 
 ters seeming most familiar and facile ; how often the most wary 
 and steady do shift their opinions ; how the wiser a man is, and 
 the more experience he gaineth, the less confident he is in 
 his own judgment ; how dim the sight is of the most perspica- 
 
251 
 
 cious, and how shallow the conceptions of the most profound ; 
 how narrow is the horizon of our knowledge, and how im- 
 mensely the region of our ignorance is extended ?" 
 
 " Every man may discover in himself peculiar impediments to 
 wisdom; every man in his complexion and in his condition may 
 find things apt to pervert his judgment, and obstruct his ac- 
 quisition of true knowledge : is his temper sanguine ? thence 
 becometh he quick, rash, credulous, confident, and peremp- 
 tory, slippery, and fickle: is he phlegmatic? thence is he slow 
 and heavy ; diffident, pertinacious and stiff in his conceits ; 
 the mind is either soft and limber, so as easily to receive the 
 impressions of falsehood speciously represented ; or hard and 
 tough, so that it cannot readily admit instruction in truth, nor 
 correction of error. Wealth distracteth a man, or poverty 
 disturbeth his thoughts ; prosperity swelleth his mind up into 
 vain presumptions and satisfactions, or adversity sinketh it 
 down into unreasonable despondencies and dislikes of things ; 
 plenty breedeth sloth, want createth trouble, indisposing him 
 to think well ; ease doth rust his parts, and business weareth 
 them out ; inclination, interest, company, prejudice, do forci- 
 bly sway his apprehensions, so that no man can get himself 
 into, or keep himself steady in a perfect balance, requisite for 
 exact judgment of things ; no man, therefore, can obtain a 
 degree of wisdom, whereof he may with any reason be con- 
 ceited : if any man conceiteth himself to be considerably wise, 
 or intelligent, it is a plain sign that he is very ignorant, and 
 understandeth little to any purpose." 
 
 " Self-conceit is the strongest bar to the getting wisdom, to 
 the receiving instruction and right information about things, 
 for he that taketh himself to be abundantly knowing, or in- 
 comparably wise, will not care to learn, will scorn to be 
 taught. It rendereth a man in doubtful or difficult cases, un- 
 willing to seek, and unapt to take advice ; he will not care for, 
 nor admit any counsellor but himself; hence he undertaketh 
 
252 
 
 and easily is deceived, and incurreth disappointment, damage, 
 disasters in his affairs. As it is most incident to weak, incon- 
 siderate, lazy persons, who have not a capacity, or will not 
 yield attention or take pains to get right notions of things, so 
 it doth smother all industry, consideration, and circumspec- 
 tion ; for such persons think they need no labour in searching 
 for truth, no care in weighing arguments, no diligence in ob- 
 serving things ; Thus is the sluggard (as Solomon saith,) wiser 
 in his own conceit than seven men that can render a reason" 
 
 Hence also we persist obstinate and incorrigible in error, 
 for what reason can be efficacious to reclaim him, whose opi- 
 nion is the greater reason ? what argument can be ponderous 
 enough to outweigh his authority ? how can he, (the man of 
 wisdom, the penetrating and profound person) yield that he 
 hath erred ? how can he part with the satisfaction of being 
 always in the right, or endure the affront of being at any time 
 baffled ? Thus it rendereth men peevish and morose, so as to 
 bear nobody that dissenteth from them, nor to like any thing 
 which doth not hit their fancy ; to cross their opinion and 
 humour, is to derogate from their wisdom, and being in their 
 apprehension so injured, they find cause to be angry. They 
 are apt to become insolent and imperious in conversation, so 
 as to dictate and impose their conceits upon others. He that 
 is conceited of his own wisdom, will imagine that upon that 
 advantage he hath a right to prescribe to others an obligation 
 to submit, eo ipso, he becometh a common master and judge, 
 and they are culpable who will not yield him a credulous ear, 
 who will not stand to his decision." 
 
 But " let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, (saith the 
 prophet) neither let the mighty man glory in his riches, but 
 let him that glorieth, glory in this, that he understandeth and 
 knoweth me, that I am the Lord, which exercise loving 
 ness, judgment, and righteousness in the earth" 
 
253 
 
 Arrogance. 
 
 " When a man (puffed up with conceit of his own abilities, 
 or unmeasurably affecting himself) doth assume to himself 
 that which doth not belong to him, (more than in reason and 
 justice is his due, in any kind, more honour, more power, more 
 wisdom, &c.) then is he Arrogant. When he encroacheth on 
 the rights, invadeth the liberties, iritrudeth into the offices, 
 intermeddleth with the businesses, imposeth on the judgments 
 of others. When he will be advising, teaching, guiding, 
 checking, controlling others without their leave or liking. 
 When he will unduly be exercising judgment and censure 
 upon the persons, qualities, and actions of his neighbours. 
 The effects of this practice are, dissensions, dissatisfactions, 
 grudges, &c. for men cannot endure such fond and unjust 
 usurpations upon their rights, their liberties, their reputa- 
 tions." Barrow. 
 
 Haughtiness, Superciliousness. 
 
 Haughtiness springs from false pride, for true pride makes 
 us desire to be superior to others in courtesy and good-breed- 
 ing, as in every thing else* 
 
 Insolence. 
 
 The proud are disposed in different ways and degrees to 
 treat others with insolence, i. e. to make them immediately 
 feel their inferiority in birth, rank, wealth, power, &c. 
 
 Contumely. 
 
 All good men must, necessarily, to a certain degree, despise 
 the vicious, but contumely we understand to express the con- 
 tempt a superior feels towards an inferior ; on account of some 
 adventitious disadvantage, he has " The rich man's scorn, the 
 proud man's contumely." The contumelious will often court 
 
254 
 
 the vicious great, while they conduct themselves with insolence 
 towards indigent worth. 
 
 Impertinence. 
 
 Impertinence implies the doing or saying things not called 
 for by circumstances ; superiors, for instance, who make use 
 of any unnecessarily harsh expressions, or any opprobrious 
 terms, or who, by their gestures or manners unjustifiably wound 
 the self-love of their inferiors, are impertinent. Inferiors are 
 impertinent, whenever they, without adequate provocation, are 
 wanting in the respect and deference, both in looks and con- 
 duct, that are due to their superiors. But superiors are far 
 more apt to fall into this error than inferiors, men being much 
 more inclined to abuse power than to provoke the exercise of 
 it. But a great degree of impertinence takes the name of 
 insult, and as men have been known to pardon injury rather 
 than insult, it is evident dire revenge itself may spring from 
 impertinence, and consequently impertinence eventually prove 
 as fatal to a rich, as to a poor man. 
 
 Sauciness, Pertness. 
 
 Sauciness and pertness are lively expressions of contempt 
 of authority ; it is sometimes perhaps a sort of silly pride of in- 
 dependence, that leads people to set those in power at defiance, 
 in a ridiculous and often very provoking manner. 
 
 Desire of appearing to Advantage, or Vanity. 
 Vanity and Pride are sometimes used synonymously, yet 
 there appears to be a most decided distinction discernible be- 
 tween them, because a man may be proud of his possessions, 
 either intrinsic or extrinsic, without being moved by the desire 
 of making any direct display of his real or supposed superior- 
 ity : whereas, Vanity finds its gratification solely in the imme- 
 
255 
 
 diate admiration and applause of men. Devoid of vanity, we 
 might desire to be orderly and cleanly, in all our personal and 
 domestic arrangements ; but this stimulus, we suspect, serves 
 to render us wonderfully more gay, cheerful, and animated, 
 both at home and abroad, by exciting us to aim at appearing 
 with greater advantage to each other in several ways. Does 
 it not, for instance, induce the rich to expend their wealth 
 more liberally, people of all classes to adorn their persons, the 
 intelligent to display their talents, the accomplished their ac- 
 quirements, the skilful their dexterity, numbers to shew their 
 cultivated taste, the gentleman his breeding and knowledge of 
 the world ; and by these its various operations, do not the poor 
 obtain much of their subsistence, and the rich instruction and 
 delight ? 
 
 The desire of pleasure and that of ease sometimes co-ope- 
 rate with, and are sometimes diametrically opposed to vanity ; 
 a man might desire, for instance, to marry a beautiful woman, 
 and by doing so, his desire both of pleasure and of ease, it is 
 evident, would be gratified, also his vanity flattered : vanity, 
 however, may induce him to put on a tight shoe, while his 
 desire of ease would most certainly demand a larger one. Va- 
 nity and avarice have many a hard combat in some minds, and 
 vanity and prudence in yet more ; in the one case, the struggle 
 is between vanity and the desire of wealth, in the other the 
 desire of good. 
 
 Fantastical. 
 
 The ridiculously vain sometimes become fantastical in their 
 dress or manners, &c. 
 
 Pompous, Ostentatious. 
 
 They are also in various ways and degrees disposed to be 
 pompous, ostentatious, i. e. to display to others how wealthy 
 or powerful they are, or at least would appear to be. 
 
256 
 
 Of Talking of Ones-self. 
 
 " Talking about One's self, is an effect and manifest sign 
 of immoderate Self-love," (of undisciplined vanity). It may 
 seem an insignificant matter, but is of great use to be con- 
 sidered and corrected. To talk muck of One's self, of one's 
 own qualities, of one's concernments, of one's actions, so as 
 either downrightly to commend one's self, or obliquely to in- 
 sinuate grounds of commendation ; to catch at praise, or how- 
 ever to drive on our own designs and interests thereby, is a 
 foolish and hurtful practice. It is vain, and hath not the 
 effect desired. We thereby seek to recommend ourselves to 
 the opinion of men, but we fail therein, for our words gain no 
 belief. No man is looked upon as a good judge, or a faithful 
 witness in his own case ; a good judge and a faithful witness 
 must be indifferent and disinterested ; but every man is es- 
 teemed to be partial in his opinion concerning himself, to be 
 apt to strain a point of truth and right, in passing testimony 
 or sentence upon himself. Men have a prejudice against what 
 is said as proceeding from a suspected witness ; one who is 
 biassed by self-love and bribed by self-interest to impose upon 
 them. Not he that commendeth himself is approved. 
 
 It is fastidious, as impertinent, insignificant and insipid ; 
 spending time and beating their ears to no purpose, since men 
 take it for an injury to suppose them so weak as to be moved 
 by such words, or forced into a good conceit. It is odious and 
 invidious, for they all do love themselves no less than we our- 
 selves, and cannot endure to see those who affect to advance 
 themselves and reign in our opinion. It prompteth them to 
 speak evil of us, to search for faults in order to cool and check 
 us." 
 
 " Of all words, those which express ourselves and our 
 things, I, and mine, &c. are the least pleasing to men's ears. 
 It spoileth conversation, for he that loveth to speak of himself, 
 doth Jeast love to hear others speak of themselves, and so is 
 
257 
 
 not attentive. If a man have worthy qualities and do good 
 deeds, let them speak for him, they will of themselves extort 
 commendation, his silence about them, his seeming to neglect 
 them, will enhance their worth in the opinion of men. Prating 
 about them, obtruding them upon others will mar their credit, 
 inducing men to think them done not out of love to virtue, but 
 for a vainglorious design. Thus did Cicero, and thus have 
 many others clouded the glory of their virtuous deeds. Sup- 
 posing you get the belief and the praise you aim at, to have 
 complacence therein is bad, or dangerous ; it is a fond satis- 
 faction, it is a vicious pleasure, it puffeth up, it befooleth. It 
 is against modesty. It argueth the man hath a high opinion 
 of himself; if he believe what he saith, ~he hath so; if not, 
 why would he persuade others to have it ?" 
 
 " If we will be speaking of ourselves, it is allowable to speak 
 sincerely and unaffectedly concerning our infirmities and faults, 
 as St. Paul does of himself. There are some cases, however, 
 wherein a man may also commend himself, as in his own defence, 
 to maintain his authority, to urge his example, &c. So doth 
 St. Paul often. He calleth it folly to boast (because generally 
 such it is) yet he doth it for those ends. Let another praise 
 thee, and not thine own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own 
 lips." 
 
 Pedantry. 
 
 Pedantry arises from a wrong estimation of one's know- 
 ledge, and thus we find the truly wise, modest and humble, 
 even though pre-eminent in science. 
 
 To Boast, Brag. 
 
 The vain are apt to boast of what they have done, or will 
 do, or of what they possess, or of what they wish the world to 
 suppose they possess, or have done, or have it in their power' 
 to do. 
 
258 
 
 Desire of Change. 
 
 The desire of Change betrays itself on our very entrance 
 into life, and continually operates in us till we die. We desire 
 change of posture, of action, of food, change of all objects 
 affecting the senses, for the eye cannot long remain fixed upon 
 one object, and the mind still less upon one idea. Nature seems 
 to have implanted this desire in us, amongst many other wise 
 purposes, in order timely to arrest us in the midst both of our 
 labours and pleasures, lest we continue either of them to our 
 prejudice ; and happy is he, who early acquires the habit of 
 most commonly obeying her gentle admonitions, without wait- 
 ing until she upbraid him more or less loudly, for unreason- 
 able and repeated procrastination. By doing so, he escapes 
 numerous evils, not only temporary but permanent, for season- 
 able changes are indispensable to the steady well-being both 
 of the mind and body. 
 
 Desire of Novelty. 
 
 The desire of change is the desire of not doing or not per- 
 ceiving a thing of which we are become weary, or the desire 
 of doing or of perceiving something else. But the desire of 
 Novelty, is the desire of doing or perceiving a thing with which 
 we have not of late been familiar, or with which we are entirely 
 unacquainted. 
 
 This desire causes us from our earliest years, more or less 
 eagerly to seek new objects, in order to enjoy life with greater 
 zest, and " the charm of Novelty" is an expression, clearly 
 denoting its peculiar, though very short-lived power, of enhan- 
 cing the pleasures imparted to us by the perception of things 
 themselves. It urges us to extend our acquaintance with 
 nature in every way, often greatly to our advantage, and con- 
 
259 
 
 tinually to aim at a variety of inventions for the purpose of 
 varying our employments both manual and intellectual. Some 
 men, urged by the desire of good, and animated by curiosity, 
 travel expressly to improve some art or science for the benefit 
 of mankind ; many are stimulated to it by the desire of inde- 
 pendence, or wealth, or both, but not a few probably roam 
 into foreign parts, merely from the desire of novelty. It is a 
 propensity that requires to be strongly curbed, since it is very 
 apt to make us ever longing after yet untasted enjoyments, 
 and if unwisely gratified, disinclines us to pursue steadily our 
 proper avocations in life, or to remain satisfied with the va- 
 riety of amusements, we can conscientiously command and in- 
 dulge ourselves in ; in short, it causes us to become more or 
 less dissatisfied and wanton. 
 
 " Continual experience assures us, it is the nature of all 
 things, pleasant merely to sense or fancy, presently to satiate : 
 no beauty can long please the eye, no melody the ear, no de- 
 licacy the palate, no rare thing the imagination, a little time 
 doth waste away, a small use doth wear out the pleasure which 
 at first they afford. Novelty commendeth and ingratiateth 
 them, distance representeth them fair and lovely, the want or 
 absence of them rendereth them desirable, but the presence 
 of them dulleth their grace, the possession of them deadeneth 
 the appetite to them." Barrow. 
 
 Domestic, Dissipated. 
 
 The domestic seek their pleasures commonly in the society 
 of their family, friends, and neighbours ; the dissipated in the 
 ever shifting assemblies of strangers. 
 
 Constant, Steady, Inconstant, Unsteady. 
 We are disposed, in different ways and degrees, to be con- 
 stant or inconstant to one or more things. 
 
 s 2 
 
260 
 
 Capricious, Whimsical, Freakish. 
 Also to be capricious, whimsical, freakish. 
 
 Curiosity. 
 
 Curiosity seems to be, the general desire we have to pene- 
 trate the innumerable mysteries of nature, both in the intellec- 
 tual and physical worlds. Not satisfied with beholding the 
 visible effects of her very various operations, men aim to dis- 
 cover in what manner she more or less directly causes them. 
 We earnestly endeavour to search out by what means it 
 is we sometimes succeed, and sometimes fail in our several 
 experiments and undertakings: what events have occurred 
 both in public and private life, whence they originated, and in 
 what manner they are connected one with the other. And 
 these various secrets are often so cunningly wrapped up, as to 
 exercise our utmost ingenuity to unfold them. But in making 
 success the price of our labour, nature has enhanced the value 
 of her gifts, for who has not experienced, more or less, the 
 pleasure both of pursuit and of attainment, and, upon attain- 
 ment, has not been eager to start a new object of pursuit ? 
 
 " Man hath an insatiable curiosity and greediness of know- 
 ledge, he never rests content with, but in a manner despises 
 the notions already acquired, always striving to enlarge and 
 enrich his mind with intellectual treasure. So doth he con- 
 tinually tend somewhat nearer (though yet at an immeasurable 
 distance) to divine Omniscience." -.Barrow. 
 
 The abuse of curiosity it is that renders it contemptible, 
 whereas, the proper exercise of it serves to fill the mind with 
 knowledge and delight, and tempts it " to take its flight far- 
 ther than the stars, to extend its thoughts even beyond the 
 utmost expansion of matter, and to make excursions into the 
 incomprehensible inane." 
 
 " Suppose us to have much spare time, and to want occupa- 
 
261 
 
 tion, yet it is not advisable to meddle with the affairs of other 
 men ; there are divers other ways more innocent, more safe/ 
 more pleasant, more advantageous to divert ourselves, and to 
 satisfy curiosity." 
 
 " Nature offereth herself, and her inexhaustible store of ap- 
 pearances to our contemplation ; we may without any harm, 
 and with much delight, survey her rich varieties, examine her 
 proceedings, pierce into her secrets. Every kind of animal, 
 of plants, of minerals, of meteors, presenteth matter, wherewith 
 innocently, pleasantly, and profitably, to entertain our minds : 
 there are many noble sciences, by applying our minds to the 
 study whereof, we may not only divert them, but improve and 
 cultivate them : the histories of ages past, or relations con- 
 cerning foreign countries, wherein the manners of men are de- 
 scribed, and their actions reported, may afford us useful plea- 
 sure and pastime; thereby we may learn as much, and understand 
 the world as well, as by the most curious inquiry into the pre- 
 sent actions of men ; there we may observe, we may scan, we 
 may tax the proceedings of whom we please, without any dan- 
 ger or offence : there are extant numberless books, wherein the 
 wisest and most ingenious of men have laid open their hearts, 
 and exposed their most secret cogitations unto us ; in pursuing 
 them we may sufficiently busy ourselves, and let our idle hours 
 pass gratefully ; we may meddle with ourselves, studying our 
 own dispositions, examining our principles and purposes, re- 
 flecting on our thoughts, words, and actions, striving tho- 
 roughly to understand ourselves ; to do this, we have an un- 
 questionable right, and by it we shall obtain vast benefit, 
 much greater than by puddering in the designs or doings of 
 others." Barrow. 
 
 The more subordinate classes of society, when justly and 
 kindly dealt with, commonly find ample occupation in manual 
 labour, and abundant satisfaction in the gratification of their 
 
262 
 
 several social affections, which are unquestionably the sources 
 of our most durable and heartfelt pleasures. Moreover, ma- 
 nual labour, undertaken with cheerfulness, while it wonderfully 
 beguiles the time, leaves the mind in a state easily to be 
 pleased, either with some homely amusement or mere repose. 
 Nature has thus most kindly ordered, that curiosity and the 
 desire of novelty should comparatively be little excited in per- 
 sons so circumstanced, unless indeed the mind by its superior 
 powers be rendered unusually active. 
 
 Inquisitive, Prying. 
 
 The inquisitive desire to learn the most minute particulars 
 likely to elucidate any affair that excites their curiosity ; and 
 the prying search into every place they suspect likely to con- 
 tain things, the discovery of which may betray the mystery 
 that so mightily disquiets them. 
 
 Desire of Occupation. 
 
 Dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for that is 
 what life is made of. Franklin. 
 
 The desire of occupation continually stirs all men, more or 
 less, and in several ways, to the use of their many operative 
 faculties. The term Occupation seems to include all our ac- 
 tions, both visible and invisible, during our waking hours, when 
 some of our faculties must necessarily be employed, since we 
 cannot forbear thinking, though we can usually give a cer- 
 tain direction to our thoughts : and as the degree of control 
 we have over ourselves greatly depends on our general habits 
 of life, the manner of filling up our duration altogether, must 
 of course constitute our moral conduct in the sight of God. Thus 
 any labour of the rnind, or of the hands, or recreation, or 
 mere reverie, all are what we call occupation ; and we are said 
 
263 
 
 to be virtuous or vicious according as we are commonly upon 
 the whole well or ill occupied. 
 
 Our occupations we class under three distinct heads Bu- 
 siness, Relaxation, and Pleasure. We call every sort of occu- 
 pation business, that immediately or remotely tends to improve 
 our intellect, or morals, or worldly affairs, or to confer a bene- 
 fit upon any individual, or community, or upon mankind in 
 general in any manner whatsoever ; likewise the observance of 
 any religious rites enjoined us by our conscience as necessary 
 to our spiritual welfare. Relaxation whatever is necessary 
 to the wholesome refreshment of our faculties after labour. 
 Pleasure all actions which have for their object the attain- 
 ment of agreeable emotions or sensations. By ordaining that 
 frequent relaxation from business and occasional pleasures 
 should be indispensable to our content and permanent well- 
 being, God seems most clearly to have expressed his inten- 
 tion, that we should enjoy our existence at the same time that 
 we render it useful to others ; and, by making too long conti- 
 nued relaxation or pleasure, as wearisome, and yet more bane- 
 ful to us than uninterrupted application to business, he has 
 given us no less unequivocal proofs, that business is as much 
 the proper relief to relaxation and pleasure, as pleasure and 
 relaxation is to business. Besides, the things for which man 
 has the most urgent and continual occasion, imperiously de- 
 mand regular periodical returns to labour, in order to direct, 
 to arrange, to produce, to manufacture, and to preserve them 
 clean and sound. " Voluntary labour, taken in due place and 
 season, doth save much exertion afterward ; and moderate 
 care enables a man commonly to pass his life with ease, com- 
 fort, and delight ; whereas, idleness frequently doth let slip 
 opportunities and advantages which cannot with ease be re- 
 trieved, and letteth things fall into a bad case, out of which 
 they can hardly be recovered." Barrow. 
 
264 
 
 Industry, Sloth.* 
 
 " To industrious study is to be ascribed the invention and 
 perfection of all those arts, whereby human life is civilized, and 
 the world cultivated with numberless accommodations, orna- 
 ments, and beauties. All the comely, the stately, the pleasant 
 and useful works, which we view with delight or enjoy with 
 comfort, industry did contrive them industry did frame them." 
 
 " Industry reared those magnificent fabrics and those com- 
 modious houses ; it formed those goodly pictures and statues ; it 
 raised those convenient causeys, those bridges, those aque- 
 ducts ; it planted those fine gardens with various flowers and 
 fruits ; it clothed those pleasant fields with corn and grass ; 
 it built those ships whereby we plough the seas, reaping the 
 commodities of foreign regions. It hath subjected all crea- 
 tures to our command and service, enabling us to subdue the 
 fiercest, to catch the wildest, to render the gentler sort most 
 tractable and useful to us. It taught us from the wool of the 
 sheep, from the hair of the goat, from the labours of the silk- 
 worm, to weave our clothes to keep us warm, to make us fine 
 and gay. It helpeth us, from the inmost bowels of the earth, 
 to fetch divers needful tools and utensils." 
 
 " It collected mankind into cities, and compacted them into 
 orderly societies, and devised wholesome laws, under shelter 
 Avhereof we enjoy safety and peace, wealth and plenty, mutual 
 succour and defence, sweet conversation, and beneficial com- 
 munication. It by meditation did invent all those sciences 
 whereby our minds are enriched and ennobled, our manners 
 are refined and polished, our curiosity is satisfied, our life is 
 benefited." 
 
 " But when Sloth creepeth in, then all things corrupt and 
 decay. Sloth, indeed, doth affect ease and quiet, but by 
 affecting them doth lose them; it hateth labour and trouble, 
 but by hating them doth incur them. Whereas industry toe- 
 
 * All quotations in this section are taken from Dr. Barrow. 
 
265 
 
 gets ease by procuring good habits and facility of acting things 
 expedient for us to do. By taking pains to-day we shall need 
 the less pains to-morrow ; and by continuing the exercise 
 within a while, we shall need no pains at all, but perform the 
 most difficult tasks of duty or of benefit to us with perfect 
 ease, yea, commonly with great pleasure. What sluggish 
 people account hard and irksome (as to rise early, to hold close 
 to study, to business,) will be natural and sweet, as proceeding 
 from another nature, raised in us by use." 
 
 " By Industry we understand a steady application of mind, 
 joined with a vigorous exercise of our active faculties, in pro- 
 secution of any reasonable, honest, useful design, in order to 
 the accomplishment or attainment of some more or less con- 
 siderable good, and not merely action, for that is incessant in 
 all persons, our mind being a restless thing, never abiding in a 
 total cessation from thought or from design." 
 
 " But the mind doth naturally affect variety and liberty, be- 
 ing often apt to loathe familiar objects, and to be weary of any 
 constraint ; it is therefore not easily detained in a constant at- 
 tention to the same thing, and the corporeal instruments of ac- 
 tion being strained to a high pitch, or long held in a certain 
 tone, soon feel lassitude somewhat offensive to nature, whence 
 labour or pain is commonly reckoned an ingredient of in- 
 dustry ; and upon which account it is, that this virtue deser- 
 veth peculiar commendation, it being most laudable to follow 
 the dictates of reason, when so doing is attended with diffi- 
 culty and trouble. All virtue doth require much industry, and 
 that must necessarily itself be a great virtue, which is the mo- 
 ther, the nurse, the guardian of all virtues whatsoever ; yea, 
 which is indeed an ingredient and constitutive part of every 
 virtue ; for if virtue were easily obtainable or practicable with- 
 out a good measure of pains, how could it be virtue ? What 
 excellency could it have, what praise could it claim, what re- 
 ward could it expect ?" 
 
266 
 
 " The very nature and essence of virtue doth consist in the 
 most difficult and painful efforts of soul, in the extirpating 
 rooted prejudices and notions from our understanding, in 
 bending a stiff will, and rectifying crooked inclinations ; in 
 over-ruling a rebellious temper, in curbing eager and impor- 
 tunate appetites, in taming wild passions, in withstanding vio- 
 lent temptations, in surmounting many difficulties, and sustain- 
 ing many troubles ; in struggling with various unruly lusts 
 within, and encountering many stout enemies abroad, which 
 assault our reason and war against our soul. What attention, 
 what circumspection and vigilancy of mind and intention of 
 spirit, what force of resolution, what command and care over 
 ourselves doth it require also, to keep our hearts from vain 
 thoughts and evil desires ; to guard our tongue from wanton, 
 unjust, uncharitable discourse ; to order our steps uprightly 
 and steadily in all the paths of duty ? It is no small task 
 even to know it, wherein it consisteth, and what is demanded 
 of us ; but it is a far more painful thing to conform our prac- 
 tice unto its rules and dictates." 
 
 " But to be impertinently busy, doing that which conduceth 
 to no good purpose, is in some respect worse than to forbear 
 all action ; for 'tis a positive abuse of our faculties and trifling 
 with God's gifts ; 'tis a throwing away labour and care, things 
 valuable in themselves ; 'tis often a running out of the way, 
 which is worse than standing still ; 'tis a debasing our reason 
 to be solicitous and serious about trifles ; and a man will soon 
 be weary of that labour which yieldeth no profit nor beneficial 
 return. How assiduously intent and eager may we observe 
 men to be at sports ; how soon will they rise to go forth to 
 them ; with what constancy and patience will they toil in them 
 all the day ; how long will they sit poring on their games, dis- 
 pensing with their food and sleep for it. But how much in 
 such cases do men forget what they are doing, that sport 
 should be sport, not work; to divert and relax us, not to em- 
 
267 
 
 ploy and busy us ; to take off our minds a little, not wholly to 
 take them up ; not to exhaust or tire our spirits, but to re- 
 fresh and cheer them, that they may return with renewed vi- 
 gour to grave and useful occupation." 
 
 There is another industry, however, worse than that, the 
 devising and compassing of mischief. As no great good, so 
 neither can any great evil be effected without much pains ; 
 and if we consider the characters or the practices of those 
 who have been famous mischief-makers, the pests of mankind 
 and disturbers of the world, we shall find them to have been 
 no sluggards. How studiously will they plod, how restlessly 
 will they trudge, what carking and drudgery will they endure 
 in driving on projects of ambition and avarice. How intent 
 are some to over-reach, to circumvent, to supplant their neigh- 
 bour ; how sore pains will some take to seduce, corrupt, and 
 debauch others ; how active will some be in sowing strife, in 
 raising factions, in fomenting disorders in the world." 
 
 " These two sorts of vain and bad industry, the prophet 
 Isaiah seemeth to describe in these words ' They hatch cock- 
 atrice eggs, and weave the spider's web ;' of which expres- 
 sions one may denote mischievous, the other frivolous dili- 
 gence." 
 
 " A noble heart will disdain to subsist like a drone upon 
 the honey gathered by others' labour, like a vermin to filch its 
 food out of the public granary, or like a shark to prey on 
 the lesser fry ; but will rather outdo his private obligations to 
 other men's care and toil, by considerable service and benefi- 
 cence to the public; for there is no calling of any sort, from 
 the sceptre to the spade, the management whereof with any 
 good success, any credit, any satisfaction, doth not demand 
 much work of the head, or of the hands, or of both. Is a man a 
 governor, or a superior in any capacity, what is he but a pub- 
 lic servant doomed to continual labour, hired for the wages of 
 respect and pomp to wait on his people, and he will find that 
 
268 
 
 to wield power innocently, to brandish the sword of justice 
 discreetly and worthily, for the maintenance of right and en- 
 couragement of virtue, for the suppression of injury and cor- 
 rection of vice, is a matter of no small skill and slight care ; 
 and he that is obliged to purvey for so many, and so to abound 
 in good works, how can he want business ? How can he pre- 
 tend to a writ of ease ?" 
 
 " No industrious man, however mean his estate, is contemp- 
 tible, for he is ever looked upon as being in a way of thriving, 
 of working himself out of many straits, and of advancing 
 himself into a better condition ; and who can be ignorant, that 
 no wit alone or strength of parts can suffice without great in- 
 dustry to frame any science, to learn any one tongue, to know 
 the history of nature or of Providence ?" 
 
 The folly that some persons have of priding themselves 
 upon an exemption from labours the most indispensable to our 
 wants, comforts, and even advancement in every art and sci- 
 ence, is to be exceeded only by that of fancying superiority 
 attached to the not knowing, or not being able to do many 
 things that are most commonly imposed upon people of infe- 
 rior rank ; for really there is no one so senseless nor so despi- 
 cable, who cannot pretend to excel in the accomplishments of 
 ignorance and of helplessness^ But ought we not rather to 
 remember that " industry is needful to guard us from the 
 temptations and mischiefs to which wealth doth expose us, 
 that it do not prove a treacherous snare, an unwieldy burthen, 
 a destructive poison and plague to us, throwing us into pride 
 and vanity, into luxury, into stupidity, into distracting solici- 
 tude, into a base worldly and earthly temper of heart, into 
 a profane oblivion of God and of our own soul." 
 
 He who is obliged to toil for his daily bread is often under 
 the necessity of confining his industry strictly to the opera- 
 tions connected with his particular line of business, but a son 
 of fortune " is not staked to one pursuit, he has immense fields 
 
269 
 
 of contemplation, wherein he may everlastingly expatiate with 
 great proficiency and delight ; and if the eye be not satisfied 
 with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing, how much less is 
 the mind satiated with the pleasures of speculating, and ob- 
 serving that immense variety of objects subject to its view." 
 
 " Money is a defence of which fortune may bereave us, but 
 wisdom is beyond its attacks, being a treasure seated in a 
 place inaccessible to external impressions ; and do we not de- 
 serve great blame, displeasure, and disgrace from mankind, if 
 having such opportunities of qualifying ourselves to do good 
 and serve the public, we by our idleness render ourselves 
 worthless and useless. Moreover no man can quite decline 
 business, or disengage himself from duty, without infinite da- 
 mage and mischief accruing to himself." 
 
 " Industry will sweeten all our enjoyments and season them 
 with a grateful relish, for when a man hath done his best toward 
 the despatch of his work, he will then comfortably take his 
 ease and enjoy his pleasure; then his food doth taste savourily, 
 then his divertisements and recreations have a lively gustful- 
 ness, then his sleep is very sound and pleasant, according to 
 that of the preacher, * the sleep of the labouring man is sweet. 9 
 Besides, the very exercise of industry immediately in itself is 
 delightful, and hath an innate satisfaction which tempereth all 
 annoyances, and even ingratiateth the pains going with it. 
 Moreover, those accommodations prove most delightful which 
 our industry hath procured to us, we looking on them with 
 a special tenderness of affection, as on the children of our 
 endeavours, we being sensible at what costs of care and pains 
 we purchased them." 
 
 " It is with us as with other things in nature, which by mo- 
 tion are preserved in their native purity and perfection, in their 
 sweetness, in their lustre, rest corrupting, debasing, and de- 
 filing them ; if the water runneth it holdeth clear, sweet, and 
 fresh ; if the air be fanned by winds, it is pure and wholesome, 
 
270 
 
 but from being shut up it groweth thick and putrid ; if metals 
 be employed they abide smooth and splendid, but lay them by, 
 and they soon contract rust ; if the earth be belaboured with 
 culture it yieldeth corn, but lying neglected, it will be over* 
 grown with brakes and thistles, and the better the soil is, 
 the ranker weeds it will produce : all nature is upheld in its 
 being, order, and state, by constant agitation ; every creature 
 is incessantly employed in action conformable to its designed 
 end and use ; in like manner the preservation and improve- 
 ment of our faculties depend on their constant and wholesome 
 exercise." 
 
 " Finally, industry doth afford a lasting comfort deposited 
 in the memory and conscience of him that practiseth it. It 
 will ever, upon the reviewing the passages of his life, be sweet 
 to him to behold in them testimonies and monuments of his 
 diligence ; it will please him to consider that he hath lived to 
 purpose, that he hath made an advantageous use of his time, 
 that he hath well husbanded the talents committed to him, that 
 he hath accomplished, to a certain degree, the intent of God's 
 bounty, and made some return for his many excellent gifts." 
 Barrow. 
 
271 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Primary Dispositions. Consistency, Inconsistency. 
 
 Primary Dispositions. 
 
 UPON attentively considering the actions of a child, it is sel- 
 dom difficult to discover, whether it be naturally active or 
 indolent, patient or impatient, courageous or fearful, bold or 
 timid, &c. Also whether it be easily dispbsed to love and 
 hate, to be angry, resentful, jealous, &c. 
 
 Activity, Indolence. 
 
 We term those Active, who more or less, earnestly desire 
 to be continually employed, well or ill; Indolent, such as 
 usually appear reluctant to make any exertion, either for the 
 regular discharge of their duties, or for the enjoyment of plea- 
 sure. The . constitutionally indolent often rest satisfied with 
 quietly idling away their time, but the constitutionally active, 
 if they be not periodically and usefully engaged, are apt to 
 become troublesome and dangerous subjects of the common- 
 wealth, as well as restless and harassing inmates of a family. 
 But it is easy to discern that mental activity is united in some 
 persons with corporeal indolence, and in others vice versa; 
 many of the former injure their health by the indulgence of 
 sedentary habits, while the latter but too often utterly neglect 
 the improvement of their understanding. These two descrip- 
 
272 
 
 tions of character, it is self-evident, must so far require dia- 
 metrically opposite discipline. The great difficulty of mana- 
 ging the active is commonly to prevent their doing what they 
 ought not to do ; of the indolent, to induce them to do what 
 they ought to do. 
 
 Diligent, Assiduous, Busy, Idle, Dawdling. 
 
 The active are commonly disposed to be more or less dili- 
 gent and assiduous ; the indolent, idle and dawdling. 
 
 Quick, Hasty, Precipitate, Slow, Dilatory. 
 The active to be precipitate, &c. the indolent, dilatory. 
 
 Alert, Watchful, Vigilant, Unmindful, Negligent. 
 The active to be vigilant, the indolent, unmindful, &c. 
 
 Ennui. 
 
 Those persons, it is observed, who make not a rational dis- 
 tribution of their time, are most apt to experience this disa- 
 greeable feeling. Ennui expresses, we apprehend, the mind 
 being uneasy in a state of inactivity, though wanting, at the 
 moment, the energy to rouse itself to exertion ; for those who 
 are disposed to employ themselves, but are prevented doing 
 so, either by circumstances, or by prohibition, suffer from the 
 restraint, and not from Ennui properly so called. The idle 
 and dissipated very frequently wish to be agreeably occupied 
 without the trouble of making an effort. 
 
 Patience, Impatience. 
 
 Patience, we believe, expresses a generally unruffled state 
 of mind, under the ordinary and frequent uneasinesses of life. 
 Impatience the reverse of this. Some patient children are too 
 
273 
 
 dull to be easily moved, others again give the fairest promise 
 of fine intellect, united with the most amiable temper and dis- 
 positions. Of the Impatient there are, who want perseverance 
 in all they undertake, but some of them, by being early dis- 
 ciplined to control their too great eagerness either for action 
 or possession, or compliance from others, become very active 
 and steady members of society. 
 
 Patience seems at first view to include fortitude, they being 
 both of them the enduring with composure, any mental or bo- 
 dily uneasiness ; but we suspect many who are generally pa- 
 tient, sometimes want fortitude to bear excess of pain, and that 
 others, on the contrary, who shew great fortitude upon extra- 
 ordinary occasions, are not always distinguished for their ha- 
 bitual patience ; most probably, however, patience and forti- 
 tude are not often found separated. 
 
 "The word Patience hath, in common usage, a double 
 meaning, taken from the relation it bears unto two sorts of 
 objects, somewhat different. As it respecteth provocations to 
 anger and revenge by injuries or discourtesies, it signifieth a 
 disposition of mind to endure them with charitable meekness ; 
 as it relateth to adversities and crosses, disposed to us by 
 Providence, it importeth a pious undergoing and sustaining 
 them ; of the latter it is said ; If when ye do well, and suffer 
 for it, ye take it patiently ; this is acceptable to God. Of the 
 former ; who when he was reviled, reviled not again ; when he 
 suffered, he threatened not." 
 
 Patience then is that virtue, which qualifieth us to bear all 
 conditions and all events, by God's disposal incident to us, 
 with such apprehensions and persuasions of mind, such dispo- 
 sitions and affections of heart, such external deportments and 
 practices of life, as God requireth, and good reason directeth. 
 It is abstaining from all irregular and unworthy courses toward 
 the removal, or redress of our crosses ; chusing rather to 
 abide quietly under their pressure, than by any unwarrantable 
 
274 
 
 means to relieve or relax ourselves ; contentedly bearing, ra- 
 ther than violently breaking our yoke, or bursting our bonds ; 
 rather continuing poor, than striving to enrich ourselves by 
 fraud or rapine ; rather lying under contempt, than by sordid 
 or sinful compliances, attempting to gain the favour and re- 
 spect of men ; rather enduring any inconvenience or distress, 
 than having recourse to any succour, which God disalloweth. 
 It is observing a fair behaviour toward the instruments and 
 abettors of our affliction, those who brought us into it, or 
 those who detain us under it, by keeping off relief, or sparing 
 to yield the succour which we might expect ; the forbearing to 
 express any wrath or displeasure, to exercise any revenge, to 
 retain any grudge, or enmity toward them, but rather for 
 their reproaches, exchanging good words and wishes, for their 
 outrages repaying benefits and good turns, according to that 
 evangelical rule, Bless them that persecute you. 
 
 " In fine, patience doth include and produce a general 
 meekness and kindness of affection, together with an enlarged 
 sweetness and pleasantness in conversation and carriage to- 
 ward all men : implying that how hard soever our case, how 
 sorry or sad our condition is, we are not therefore angry with 
 the world, because we do not thrive or flourish in it ; that we 
 are not dissatisfied or disgusted with the prosperous estate of 
 other men ; that we are not become sullen or froward toward 
 any man, because his fortune excelleth ours, but that rather, 
 we do rejoice with them that rejoice, we do find complacency 
 and delight in their good success, we borrow satisfaction and 
 pleasure from their enjoyments. In these and the like acts, 
 the practice of this virtue (a virtue, which all men in this state 
 of inward weakness and outward trouble, shall have much 
 need and frequent occasion to exercise) consisteth, unto which 
 practice, even philosophy, natural reason, and common sense, 
 do suggest many inducements, and the tenor of our holy 
 faith and religion do supply many more and better." Barrow* 
 
275 
 
 Submission, Resignation. 
 
 The patient are commonly disposed to submit or resign 
 themselves to the will of God. 
 
 Perseverance. 
 
 Also to persevere, in order to accomplish whatever they 
 undertake, even though at first there may appear little proba- 
 bility of success to encourage them to proceed. 
 
 Content, Discontent. 
 
 Content must of course imply a satisfied Discontent, a dis- 
 satisfied state of mind. A contented person may do his ut- 
 most to remove, or to escape from any inconveniences he 
 suffers, or to improve his situation in life, but he will at the 
 same time endeavour altogether cheerfully to bear those ad- 
 verse circumstances he imagines unavoidable. Some persons 
 are scarcely to be disturbed, while others are almost always 
 fretting against the compliances reasonably required of them, 
 or about the present order of things. We here speak of the 
 habitual tenor of the mind, not of those idle wishes, that 
 occasionally molest the most moderate and easily pleased. 
 
 Whatever tends to promote his virtue and health, will 
 serve to dispose the individual to cheerfulness and content, 
 but if he still require other assistance to reconcile him to his 
 destiny, let him 
 
 " Measure lots 
 
 With less distinguish'*! than himself, that thus 
 He may with patience bear his mod'rate ills, 
 And sympathize with others suff'ring more."- Cowper. 
 
 But doubtless there are many miserable creatures, who 
 
 " From ev'ry joy the heart can feel excluded 
 
 Must arise, worn out and faint with unremitting woe." 
 
 Smtthey. 
 
 t 2 
 
276 
 
 If discontent therefore still assail thee, 
 
 " Take physic, Pomp, 
 Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, 
 That thou may'st shake the superflux to them, 
 And shew the Heav'ns more just." 
 
 " Contentedness is the virtue which, of all others, doth 
 render this world acceptable, and constituteth a kind of tem- 
 poral heaven, which he that hath, is thereby ipso facto, in 
 good measure happy, whatever other things he may seem to 
 want ; which he that wanteth, doth, however otherwise he be 
 furnished, become miserable, and carrieth a kind of hell within 
 him; it cannot therefore, but well deserve our best study 
 about it, and care to get it, in imitation of St. Paul, who had 
 learned, in whatever state he was, therein to be content." 
 
 " The object of contentedness is the present state of things, 
 whatever it be, (whether prosperous or adverse, of eminency 
 or meanness, of abundance or scantiness) wherein by Divine 
 Providence we are set : for it is ordinary and natural for men, 
 who have not exercised themselves in the practice of this duty, 
 to be dissatisfied and disquieted in every state ; to be always 
 in want of something, to find defects in every fortune ; to fancy 
 they may be in better xjase, and to be uneasy in the desire of 
 it. If we estimate things wisely, rich men are more liable to 
 discontent than poor men. It is observable that men of 
 highest fortune are apt most easily to resent the smallest 
 things; a little neglect, a slight word, an unpleasing look doth 
 affect them more than reproaches, blows, wrongs, do those of 
 a mean condition. Prosperity is a nice and squeamish thing, 
 and it is hard to find any thing able to please men of a full 
 and thriving estate ; whereas a good meal, a small gift, a little 
 gain, or good success of his labour, doth produce in a poor 
 man a very solid pleasure : whence contentedness hath place, 
 
277 
 
 and is needful in every condition, be it in appearance never so 
 prosperous, so plentiful, so pleasant." 
 
 " If we be rich, we should get a large and bountiful heart, 
 otherwise our wealth will hang loose about us ; the care and 
 trouble in keeping it, the suspicion and fear of losing it, the 
 desire of amplifying it, the unwillingness to spend or use it, 
 will bereave us of all true satisfaction therein, and render it no 
 less unsavoury to us, than unprofitable to others. If poor, we 
 should have a frugal, provident, industrious mind, sparing in 
 desires, willing to take pains, able to digest hardships, other- 
 wise the straitness of our condition will pinch and gall us." 
 
 " Are we high in dignity or reputation ? we then need a 
 mind well ballasted with sober thoughts, otherwise the wind 
 of vanity will drive us into absurd behaviours, thence will dash 
 us upon disappointments, and consequently plunge us into 
 vexation and discontent. Are we mean and low ? we need a 
 meek and humble, a calm and steady spirit ; not affecting little 
 respects, or resenting the want of them, apt to pass over, or to 
 bear quietly petty affronts and neglects, not easily to be moved 
 by words signifying contempt or disdain ; else (being fretted 
 with such things, which in this ill-natured and hard-hearted 
 world, we may be sure often to meet with) we shall be uneasy 
 in our minds, and impatiently wish a change of our state. 
 Real adversity, poverty, and disgrace, have naturally the strong- 
 est influence in disturbing and disordering our minds, Con- 
 tentedness, therefore, is plainly most needful in such cases, as 
 its proper support or medicine." Barrow. 
 
 Satisfaction, Dissatisfaction. 
 
 We may derive satisfaction from any circumstance that 
 answers our present wishes ; or from the recollection of any 
 which concerns either ourselves or others. It implies content 
 that things are as well, or no worse, than they are. A high 
 
278 
 
 degree of satisfaction takes the name of pleasure, joy, delight; 
 for instance, a man may be satisfied with his success in any 
 undertaking, or be rejoiced, or delighted at it. Dissatisfaction 
 when intense, becomes grief, &c. The terms satisfaction and 
 dissatisfaction are very commonly applied, to express the con- 
 sciousness of our moral rectitude or obliquity. 
 
 Courage, Fearfulness. 
 
 Being courageous, is the being constitutionally or habitually 
 prepared to encounter any pain or difficulties whatsoever, and 
 to face any dangers without dismay. 
 
 " Distress and danger should our courage fire, 
 
 Move generous thoughts, and brave resolves inspire." 
 
 Fearfulness is the want of courage. 
 
 Bravery, Cowardice. 
 
 Bravery commonly expresses the habitual courage of a 
 soldier, or his readiness to expose himself upon any warlike 
 emergency. Cowardice is the want of Bravery. 
 
 Firm, Resolute, Intrepid, Adventurous, Daring, Rash, Waver- 
 ing, Irresolute, Apprehensive, Pusillanimous. 
 The courageous are resolute, intrepid, &c. both to decide 
 and to act ; the fearful, apprehensive, pusillanimous, &c. 
 
 Presence of Mind. 
 
 Presence of mind, implies its retaining the powers of per- 
 ception, discernment, and judgment, in the hour of danger, 
 and thus being fully prepared to overcome, if possible, any dif- 
 ficulties that may occur. The want of it, on the contrary, 
 expresses that the mind loses itself, and is not present to direct 
 
279 
 
 its fellow-labourer, the body, in their common distress. It 
 seems to be cdurage operating in an intelligent mind. How 
 far this highly important quality is to be improved by habit, 
 is difficult to guess, but certain it is, we discover very various 
 degrees of it in the most youthful minds. 
 
 Fortitude. 
 
 Fortitude denotes a steady courage to bear the excess of 
 suffering with composure. Experience assures us there are 
 many who have courage to face danger, and yet want fortitude 
 to bear pain, and vice versa. 
 
 Boldness, Timidity. 
 
 The term Boldness implies a readiness to appear unabashed 
 before our equals and superiors, and which readiness denotes our 
 being free commonly from any lively apprehensions of suffering 
 annoyance from their criticisms, whether heard or suspected. 
 Timidity is a proneness to shrink from such encounters. We 
 find boldness to be compatible with fearfulness, and timidity 
 with courage, for he who can with the utmost boldness present 
 himself in a fashionable assembly, is often the first to turn 
 upon his heels at the hint of danger, while the man of courage 
 will undauntedly risk his life, though he may be too timid 
 perhaps, even to address himself to a stranger without con- 
 fusion. 
 
 Confidence, Assurance, Presumption, Impudence, Effrontery, 
 Audaciousness. 
 
 A proper degree of boldness we term confidence, the excess 
 of it, assurance, effrontery, &c. 
 
280 
 
 Modesty, Bashfulness, Shyness, Sheepishness. 
 
 A desirable degree of timidity is called modesty, the excess 
 of it, bashfulness, &c. 
 
 Intruding. 
 
 The bold are disposed, more or less, to be intruding their 
 company, or services, &c. even where they are as little ex- 
 pected as desired. 
 
 Confidence, Diffidence. 
 
 Confidence in its most comprehensive sense, expresses the 
 continual hope we entertain, that we are equal to doing what 
 might reasonably be expected of us, and in supporting with 
 becoming dignity the annoyances, difficulties, and calamities, to 
 which we may be variously exposed. Diffidence, the continual 
 fear of exposing our inability, or want of courage and forti- 
 tude. 
 
 Docility, Obstinacy. 
 
 Docility is a readiness to yield to the authority and wishes 
 of others: obstinacy, a determined adherence to one's own 
 decision, and often a desire sternly to resist opposition. The 
 docile being commonly easily persuaded, the artful sometimes 
 obtain a very dangerous ascendancy over them ; the obstinate 
 will, on the contrary, frequently punish themselves, rather 
 than gratify their opposers ; thus the docile are occasionally 
 won over to their own loss, while the obstinate miss some 
 advantages by their pertinacity. 
 
 Tractable, Perverse, Froward. 
 
 The docile are more or less apt to be tractable, and the 
 obstinate perverse and froward; but frowardness expresses 
 
281 
 
 rather a temporary, than an habitual obstinacy, a momentary 
 determination to gratify one's present whim, rather than to 
 listen to reason. 
 
 Reserved, Unreserved. 
 
 We call those reserved, who are not so communicative as 
 they might be, with advantage both to themselves and others. 
 The unreserved readily hold intercourse even with strangers. 
 The reserved are many of them apt to prove safer friends or 
 associates, than pleasant companions : some of the unreserved 
 the contrary. We abhor cunning and treachery, (if possible) 
 yet more in the unreserved, than in the reserved, but we 
 sooner forgive indiscretion in the former, because we are 
 more on our guard against it. The unreserved do well to bear 
 in mind the advice of Polonius, 
 
 " Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice, 
 
 Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment." 
 
 To be Secret, to Divulge, to Blab. 
 
 The reserved are commonly more to be depended upon 
 in matters of secrecy than the unreserved, who are some of 
 them very apt to divulge what has been communicated to 
 them confidentially, and this without the least intention of in- 
 juring the parties concerned. The indulgence of such a pro- 
 pensity is, however, strongly to be reprobated ; and when it is 
 done with an evil design, we term it treachery. 
 
 Decisive, Indecisive. 
 
 A decisive character seems to originate either from a readi- 
 ness at perceiving and judging what is proper to be done un- 
 der certain circumstances, and the manner of doing it, or from 
 
282 
 
 a blindness to the advantage of considering before we act ; 
 and this hastiness may be owing either to weakness of intellect 
 or want of patience ; when to the latter, children must be 
 checked, and habitually made to weigh the consequences of 
 what they are about to do. Indecision may arise from an in- 
 capacity to discern quickly the ways and means of accom- 
 plishing one's object, or to an unreasonable apprehension of 
 judging amiss. Persons of this last description often allow 
 the moment for action to pass. But 
 
 " There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
 Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; 
 Omitted, all the voyage of their life, 
 Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 
 
 Being on a full sea, 
 
 We must take the current when it serves, 
 Or lose our ventures." 
 
 Attentive, Inattentive. 
 
 We cannot but observe in some children an habitual attention 
 to what is passing around them ; while others seem as it were 
 to have their senses most frequently closed against the recep- 
 tion of impressions from without; but whether this arises from 
 the extraordinary activity of the powers within, or from a dulness 
 in them to entertain numerous and successive objects, must be 
 determined by the future developement of their minds. Early 
 education has doubtless also great effect upon the individual, 
 by exciting his attention or allowing it unseasonably to slum- 
 ber. Besides this, profound researches, repeated misfortunes, 
 continued ill-health, and even strict habits of retirement, will 
 likewise serve to render persons more or less apt to be ab- 
 sent, though that may not be their natural bent. 
 
283 
 
 Thoughtful, Contemplative, Meditative. 
 We are insensibly or voluntarily disposed to be more or less 
 thoughtful, meditative, &c. 
 
 To Recollect, Remember, Forget. 
 And also more or less apt to remember or forget. 
 
 Love, Hatred. 
 
 Infants, as soon as they are capable of discernment, love 
 those from whom they generally obtain what is pleasant to 
 them, and hate such as cause them pain, or affect their senses 
 disagreeably. 
 
 Anger Mild, Meek, Gentle, Passionate, Fierce. 
 
 Anger expresses the irritation of the mind upon receiving 
 any real or supposed offence or injury. Some persons are 
 fiercely passionate ; others altogether gentle ; and we see in 
 mankind every shade between these two extremes. 
 
 " But if your wrathful blood is apt to boil, 
 Or are your nerves too irritably tfrung. 
 Wave all dispute ; be cautious how you joke ; 
 Keep Lent for ever and forswear the bowl ; 
 For one rash moment sends you to the shades, 
 Or shatters ev'ry hopeful scheme of life, 
 And gives to horror all your days to come. 
 While choler works, good friend, you may be wrong ; 
 Distrust yourself, and sleep before you fight, 
 Tis not too late tomorrow to be brave ; 
 If honour bid, tomorrow kill or die." 
 
 " But calm advice against a raging fit 
 Avails too little ; and it braves the power 
 Of all that ever taught in prose or song, 
 To tame the fiend, that sleeps a gentle lamb 
 But wakes a lion." Armstrong. 
 
284 
 
 Indignation. 
 
 Indignation is anger mixed with contempt. We feel indig- 
 nant at the abuse of power, whether moral or physical, also at 
 the discovery of any mean or base conduct towards a friend or 
 benefactor, &c. 
 
 Vexation. 
 
 Vexation seems to denote the union of sorrow and anger, 
 the being disturbed about some circumstances, either past or 
 present, that betray one's mismanagement, or inability, or the 
 mismanagement or inability of those one employs, or the oc- 
 currence of some untoward accident. Sorrow or anger pre- 
 ponderate according to the subject of annoyance in question. 
 When sorrow on such occasions is not mixed with anger we 
 use the term regret. 
 
 Resentment. 
 
 Resentment is the consequence of anger, or rather perhaps 
 anger is itself the immediate resentment of an offence or in- 
 jury- 
 Were man devoid of resentment, the virtuous would be 
 without the strongest, or rather the only effectual defence 
 they have against the frequent machinations of the wicked, 
 and society could not long continue to exist. Men, in com- 
 munity resent the violations of the laws ; individuals resent 
 offences committed against themselves the most forbearing, by 
 withdrawing their confidence from the indiscreet by closing 
 their doors against the treacherous by avoiding the presence 
 of the ill-conducted. 
 
 Grudge, Spleen, Spite, Malice. 
 
 Malice, &c. expresses the resentment of a base mind ear- 
 nestly desiring to vent its spite in every practicable way con- 
 
285 
 
 sistent with its own safety, and the malicious thus often visit 
 petty offences with repeated and severe injuries. 
 
 Revenge. 
 
 Revenge is the excess of resentment ; a generous mind is 
 incapable of malice, though it sometimes takes revenge of 
 such offences, as it is possible for human nature to forgive, but 
 never to forget. 
 
 Irreconcileable, Vindictive, Implacable, Rancorous. 
 
 The revengeful are disposed to be more or less irrecon- 
 cileable, rancorous, &c. 
 
 Retaliation, Recrimination. 
 
 Retaliation is the requital of an offence, dealing out mea- 
 sure for measure. It is somewhat difficult to prescribe exact 
 limits to the spirit of retaliation between children, because if 
 the quarrelsome and violent be not sometimes made imme- 
 diately to suffer the same sort of annoyance they wantonly in- 
 flict upon others, there is infinite danger of their not only 
 subduing the gentle and peaceable, but also of their acquiring 
 confirmed habits of domineering and cruelty; but, on the 
 other hand, should retaliation be encouraged, or even fre- 
 quently permitted, it may very possibly foster the direful spirit 
 of revenge. At all events, however, we shall find safety in 
 taking very frequent occasion to commend forbearance, and 
 in reminding them of the divine exhortation, " be not over- 
 come of evil, but overcome evil with good," and bid them 
 
 " For every trifle scorn to take offence." 
 
 Forgiveness. 
 
 Forgiveness must necessarily imply the ceasing not only to 
 express, but to entertain any resentment for an offence or in- 
 jury received. 
 
286 
 
 Forbearance. 
 
 Forbearance is the withholding the power of retaliation or 
 revenge. It originates either in the desire of good or in fear ; 
 in the former case we always forbear to resent an injury when 
 prudence allows us to do so ; in the latter, when we dread any 
 possible evil consequences recurring to ourselves from the in- 
 dulgence of our rancorous feelings. 
 
 Reconciliation. 
 
 Reconciliation may or may not follow forgiveness. It im- 
 plies a more or less complete return to former habits of inti- 
 macy; but doubtless there are injuries that bar the door to re- 
 conciliation, though not to forgiveness. 
 
 Apology, Compensation) Reparation, Requital, Restitution. 
 
 Regret and penitence render us more or less ready, and 
 often anxious to apologize, or to make compensation, repara- 
 tion, &c. according to the degree of the offence or injury we 
 have either purposely or unintentionally done another. 
 
 Gratitude. 
 
 As anger is the consequence of offence or injury, so is 
 gratitude the natural result of a kindness or substantial be- 
 nefit received. Few creatures are there who are not occa- 
 sionally grateful, and desirous of making some sort of return 
 for obligations bestowed ; but the grateful entertain warm sen- 
 timents of regard towards their benefactors, and watch op- 
 portunities of expressing it by active services and sedulous at- 
 tentions. 
 
 Jealousy, Envy, Covetousness, Rapaciousness. 
 The term Jealousy expresses the uneasiness we suffer from 
 the fear of being deprived of the love, esteem, or favour of 
 
287 
 
 another, or from our persuasion of having lost it. Thus we 
 are apt to feel a greater or less degree of irritation upon per- 
 ceiving or suspecting that the person whose esteem, favour, or 
 love, we think we are best or equally entitled to, or desire to 
 retain, has shewn a marked preference for another; and thus 
 a man may be jealous of his wife, parents and children mu- 
 tually jealous of each other, a courtier of the king's favour, or 
 a servant of his master's, &c. 
 
 Mr. Locke defines Envy to be " an uneasiness of the mind, 
 caused by the consideration of a good we desire that is in the 
 possession of another, and of which we would deprive him." 
 
 Yet it appears to us that envy may be either of a more or 
 less liberal or base nature. The feeling we have, for exam- 
 ple, towards a successful rival or competitor, if it be not envy 
 what name can we give it? The character of it is similar, 
 since we would not only have occupied his place if we could, 
 but must necessarily, from our very nature, regret our lost 
 hopes of obtaining what we consider an enviable object. 
 Envy is an emotion in fact that cannot be entirely a stranger 
 to the breast of a creature constituted and circumstanced like 
 man ; but, after disturbing him, it affords him opportunities of 
 shewing striking proofs of the moral beauty of his mind. All 
 must greatly admire the generous sentiments many are capable 
 of subsequently entertaining towards the very instruments not 
 only of their disappointment, but of their mortification. Even 
 intentional injuries are commonly perhaps easier to pardon than 
 such defeats. 
 
 A lover is jealous of his mistress but envious of his rival ; this 
 jealousy remains as long as she betrays a marked preference 
 for another ; but he transfers his envy to any man who is suc- 
 cessively distinguished by her, with or without the intention 
 however of taking any unjustifiable measures to supplant him. 
 But when envy excites covetousness, then it appears in all its 
 deformity : " thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife," saith 
 
288 
 
 the Decalogue. Envy must in such cases, it is evident, be the 
 foundation of the wish to deprive a neighbour of his lawful 
 good ; it takes possession of the mind previous, as it were, 
 to the entrance of covetousness into it. Yet covetousness 
 does not necessarily include envy, since a man may be covet- 
 ous of wealth, beauty, &c. wherever to be obtained, ' without 
 envying any one in particular. Most of our directing dispo- 
 sitions are apt to excite covetousness, for the ambitious, the 
 proud, the vain, &c. all desire wealth. Excessive covetous- 
 ness takes the name of rapaciousness, and the rapacious too 
 often prove insatiable in their demands, or extortions from 
 others. 
 
 Jealousy seems to have been made part of our nature, in 
 order to impose an additional wholesome restraint upon us ; for 
 were we not jealous of the regard both of our friends and of 
 men in general, we should be still more inattentive to their 
 wants and pleasures still more disposed to indulge our selfish 
 at the expense of our social feelings. Possession serves to 
 lull our fears, jealousy to awaken them, and to render us more 
 alert in steadily fulfilling those kindly offices, that tend greatly 
 to strengthen and confirm our several sorts and degrees of at- 
 tachment towards each other. The direful effects of exaspe- 
 rated jealousy are but too well known. Revenge united with 
 jealousy prompted lago exultingly to exclaim, 
 
 " Not poppy nor mandragora, 
 
 Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, 
 Shall ever med'cine to thee that sweet sleep 
 That thou own'st yesterday." 
 
 To Long for, to Hanker after. 
 
 We long or hanker after a thing we suppose will, or recol- 
 lect to have afforded us pleasure, and which we sometimes 
 imagine we should particularly relish or enjoy at the present 
 moment ; or we hanker after what we are more or less doubt- 
 
289 
 
 ful of being able to obtain, yet are very unwilling to relinquish 
 the hope of possessing it. 
 
 Venal, Mercenary. 
 
 The venal and mercenary are seldom disposed to render 
 services to others without a pecuniary reward, or something 
 
 equivalent to it. 
 
 To Grudge. 
 
 We more or less grudge giving to one we think will not 
 make a proper use of our gift, or because we do not like to 
 part with it. We also grudge taking what we consider useless 
 trouble, or to mispend our time. When we give either our 
 time, pains, or money, contrary to our inclination, we give them 
 from the fear of otherwise displeasing the person in question 
 or some connexion of his, and thus bringing upon ourselves the 
 loss of their affection or goodwill, or from the apprehension 
 of incurring some other evil. 
 
 Consistency, Inconsistency. 
 
 When we take into consideration the multifarious powers 
 and propensities of man, his original and acquired character, 
 the innumerable objects he is capable of perceiving and of being 
 differently affected by at the different periods of his life, the 
 vast variety of circumstances that are continually occurring to 
 him, and the changes he himself and most things about him are 
 perpetually undergoing, we cannot be at a loss to account for 
 his Inconsistencies, numerous as they are. He in whom the 
 desire of good predominates acts inconsistently when he wil- 
 fully or carelessly injures his neighbour, or defrauds his de- 
 pendents, or gratifies his caprices at the expense of his fa- 
 mily, &c a But tender pity for another's suffering is not to be 
 expected from the harsh and cruel ; nor a generous act from 
 a miser; nor disinterested candour from a hypocrite, &c. 
 
 u 
 
290 
 
 If we be curious to discover the more or less immediate 
 causes of such and similar anomalies of the human mind, we 
 must endeavour to learn by what unusual impressions any one 
 was at the moment influenced, what desire became the un- 
 looked for " lord of the ascendant," whether it was the desire 
 of pleasure, or of ease, or ambition, or what other that thus 
 unexpectedly assumed the empire of the mind, and caused it 
 to act inconsistently with its wonted impulses. 
 
291 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Experience. Wisdom, Folly. Prudence, Imprudence. Cause and Effect. Design, 
 Chance. Habit, Custom, Fashion. Example, Precept. Ruling Passion?. 
 
 Experience. 
 
 THE present only has a being in nature ; things past have 
 a being in the memory only ; but things to come have no be- 
 ing at all, the future being but a fiction of the mind, applying 
 the sequels of actions past to the actions that are present, 
 which with most certainty is done by him that has most expe- 
 rience." Hobbes. 
 
 As it is general Experience that ought most commonly to 
 determine the decisions of our reason, we will here examine 
 the nature of it. Man being endowed with both mental and 
 corporeal powers to act, and with desires to impel him to 
 the use of them, and being subjected to be very variously af- 
 fected by his thoughts as well as sensations, he becomes aware 
 that things operate upon him in different ways, and excite in 
 him several degrees of pleasure and pain, according as they 
 are differently applied. 
 
 In thus making the same things sometimes beneficial, some- 
 times injurious to him, and that in infinite degrees, nature, in 
 order to direct him to an advantageous use of the vast variety 
 presented to his choice, implanted in him a constant desire of 
 
292 
 
 ease, pleasure, and good, and of aversion to uneasiness, pain, 
 and evil. But as some things that produce pleasant sensations 
 do nevertheless cause evil, and vice versa, it was farther ne- 
 cessary for him to be cautioned against remote consequences ; 
 with perception therefore to apprehend present pleasure and 
 pain, he was gifted with judgment to trace the relations between 
 causes and their effects, and memory to register his observa- 
 tions, and the result of these various operations of the mind, 
 and the exercise of the several senses, is that we call expe- 
 rience. Experience then we find to be a collection of obser- 
 vations made successively by man in his progress through life, 
 and some of which he carefully records, not only for the use 
 of the present, but for the advantage of future generations. 
 The immutability of nature together with experience, it is, 
 that teaches us to anticipate consequences of actions, as far 
 as they are independent of any direct or indirect interference, 
 to beware of fallacious pleasures, and to submit to suffer pain, 
 when considered eventually salutary to us. 
 
 So far as men are constituted alike, so far they commonly 
 agree in their notions of things, however widely their lan- 
 guage may differ, e. g. few if any have the folly to dispute 
 that food is indispensable to life ; that the young, if they live, 
 must grow old, &c. But since the effects of the operations of 
 all bodies upon others depend, not only upon their respective 
 natures but present state, so far as each man has something 
 peculiar in his constitution or situation, so far an infinite va- 
 riety of opinions must necessarily exist ; one man, for in- 
 stance, finds different degrees of heat agreeable at different 
 times, but at all times more or less than another. Whether 
 fire will burn is soon known by putting one's hand into it, but 
 when consequences follow remotely we often question their 
 being the result of certain applications, e. g. it may be very 
 doubtful whether the fruit A eat yesterday is the cause of the 
 
293 
 
 pain he suffers to-day ; or whether the bad examples given 
 by an ill-conditioned boy in a school, corrupted the others, 
 though there may be the greatest presumption of it. 
 
 Universality of assent therefore seems founded upon the 
 immutable habitudes of certain bodies when in certain states, 
 and the more or less general concurrence of men in certain 
 truths we find commonly to depend upon effects following 
 more or less closely their proper causes. Thus there seems 
 every probability, that though all candid men allow temper- 
 ance is favourable to health, yet that it will be ever and va- 
 riously disputed, how far our several appetites and fancies may 
 be indulged with safety to our future well-being. That which 
 indeed must ever prevent our coming to any common agree- 
 ment upon such questions is, that each peculiar intellectual 
 and physical constitution requires some peculiar restraints and 
 gratifications, not only at the different periods, but even under 
 the different circumstances of life ; consequently, it hereby 
 clearly appears that man was originally framed, perpetually to 
 be exercising his judgment for the conduct of his understand- 
 ing, and for the management of his health. 
 
 Wisdom, Folly. 
 
 Experience, it has been said, is the mother of Wisdom, it 
 most certainly is the teacher of it, since we cannot become 
 wise but by our own, or the experience of others. The being 
 able to discover what measures are most proper to be adopted, 
 in order to accomplish any proposed object, proves the strength 
 of the understanding ; and the having also sufficient self-com- 
 mand to obey its dictates, even when they run most counter 
 to our present inclinations, determines the wisdom of our con- 
 duct. True wisdom is therefore, the doing what we ought 
 to do, after having duly considered how we can best propor- 
 
294 
 
 tion our means to our ends ; whereas, virtue is the acting ac- 
 cording to the suggestions of our conscience, whether they be 
 judicious, or otherwise. Thus a virtuous man may possibly 
 have very little wisdom, either from want of intellect, or from 
 carelessness ; but no other than a virtuous man can be wise 
 in his general conduct, because every departure from virtue 
 is foolishness. 
 
 " When we do any thing good with reluctance, the reluc- 
 tance passeth away, and the good remains ; when we do 
 any thing evil with pleasure, the pleasure passeth away and 
 the evil remains : if we become then habitually obedient to 
 the dictates of reason, an even temper, peace of mind, and 
 many other present advantages springing from it, the hope 
 of not only escaping many future evils in this world, but 
 of obtaining everlasting life in the next, will, by degrees, 
 make our inclinations join with our reason, and our duty be- 
 come our delight." Jortin. For " the ways of Wisdom 
 are the ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." 
 
 Wisdom implies a revelation of truth, and a detection of error 
 to us. 'Tis like light, pleasant to behold, casting a bright 
 lustre, and diffusing a benign influence around us ; presenting 
 a goodly prospect of things to our mind's eye, displaying ob- 
 jects in their due shapes, postures, magnitude, and colours ; 
 quickening our spirits, and disposing them to a cheerful acti- 
 vity, dispelling the darkness of ignorance, scattering the mists 
 of doubt, driving away the spectres of delusive fancy, mitigat- 
 ing the cold of sullen melancholy, discovering obstacles, secur- 
 ing progress, and making the passages of life clear, open, and 
 pleasant. We are all naturally endowed with a strong appe- 
 tite to know, to see, to pursue truth ; and with a bashful ab- 
 horrency from being deceived and entangled in mistake. And 
 as success in inquiring after truth affords matter of joy and tri- 
 umph, so being conscious of error and miscarriage therein, is 
 attended with shame and sorrow." 
 
295 
 
 " Wisdom makes all the troubles, griefs, and pains, incident 
 to life, whether casual adversities or natural afflictions, compa- 
 ratively easy and supportable, by rightly valuing the impor- 
 tance, and moderating the influence of them. It suffers not 
 busy fancy to alter the nature, amplify the degree, or extend 
 the duration of them, by representing them more sad, heavy, 
 and remediless than they truly are. It allows them no force 
 beyond what naturally and necessarily they have, nor contri- 
 butes nourishment to their increase." 
 
 " Wisdom hath always a good conscience attending it, that 
 purest delight and richest cordial of the soul, that brazen wall 
 and impregnable fortress, against both external assaults and 
 internal commotions ; that continual feast, whereon the mind, 
 destitute of all other repast, with a never languishing appetite, 
 may entertain itself; that faithful witness and impartial judge, 
 whoever accuses, always acquitting the innocent soul ; that cer- 
 tain friend, in no strait failing, in no adversity deserting; that 
 sure refuge in all storms of fortune, and persecutions of dis- 
 grace." 
 
 " Wisdom confers a facility, expert readiness, and dexterity 
 in action, which is very pleasant and exceedingly sweetens 
 activity. To do things with difficulty, struggling, and immo- 
 derate contention, disheartens a man, quells his courage, blunts 
 the edge of his resolution, renders him sluggish and averse 
 from business, though apprehended never so necessary and of 
 great moment. These obstructions Wisdom removes, facili- 
 tating operations, by directing the intention to ends possible 
 and attainable, by suggesting fit means and instruments to 
 work by, by contriving right methods and courses of process, 
 the mind by it being stored with variety of good principles, 
 sure rules, and happy expedients, reposed in the memory, 
 ready upon all occasions to be produced and employed in 
 practice." 
 
 " Wisdom begets a sound, healthful, and harmonious com- 
 
296 
 
 plexion of soul, disposing us with judgment to distinguish, and 
 with pleasure to relish savory and wholesome things, but to 
 nauseate and reject such as are ungrateful and noxious to us, 
 thereby capacifying us to enjoy pleasantly and innocently all 
 those good things the Divine Goodness hath provided for, 
 and consigned to us ; whence to the soul proceeds all that 
 comfort, joy, and vigour, which results to the body from a 
 good constitution and perfect health."* 
 
 " Wisdom acquaints us with ourselves, our own temper and 
 constitution, our propensions and passions, habitudes and ca- 
 pacities, a thing not only of mighty advantage, but of infinite 
 pleasure and content to us. No man less knows a fool than 
 himself; nay, he is more than ignorant, for he constantly errs 
 in the point, taking himself for, and demeaning himself toward 
 another, as the better, wiser, and abler man of the two. But 
 a wise man, by constant observation, and impartial reflection 
 upon himself, grows very familiar with himself, he perceives 
 his own inclinations, which, if bad, he strives to alter and cor- 
 rect ; if good, he cherishes and corroborates them : he appre- 
 hends the matters he is fitting for and capable to manage, nei- 
 ther too mean and unworthy of him, nor too high nor difficult 
 for him ; and those applying his care to, he transacts cheer- 
 fully and successfully. So being neither puffed up with vain 
 and overweaning opinion, nor dejected with heartless diffidence 
 of himself, neither admiring nor despising, neither irksomely 
 hating, nor fondly loving himself; he continues in good hu- 
 mour, maintains a sure friendship and fair correspondence 
 with himself, and rejoices in the retirement and private con- 
 versation with his own thoughts, whence flows a pleasure and 
 satisfaction inexpressible." 
 
 " Wisdom procures and preserves a constant favour and 
 
 * Thus wisdom advises us to acquire a preference not only for good moral habits, 
 but also a taste for other things wholesome and salutary to us. 
 
297 
 
 fair respect of men, purchases a good name, and upholds a 
 reputation in the world, which things are naturally desirable, 
 commodious for life, encouragement to good, and preventive 
 of many inconveniences. The composed frame of mind, uni- 
 form and comely demeanour, compliant and inoffensive con- 
 versation, fair and punctual dealings, considerate motions, and 
 dexterous addresses of wise men, naturally beget esteem and 
 affection in those that observe them." 
 
 " Wisdom instructs us to examine, compare, and rightly to 
 value the objects that court our affections, and challenge our 
 care ; and thereby regulates our passions and moderates our 
 endeavours, which begets a pleasant serenity and peaceable 
 tranquillity of mind. For when being deluded with false 
 shows, and relying upon ill-grounded presumptions, we highly 
 esteem, passionately affect, and eagerly pursue things of little 
 worth in themselves, or concernment to us, as we unhand- 
 somely prostitute our affections, and prodigally mispend our 
 time, and vainly lose our labour, so the event not answering 
 our expectation, our minds thereby are confounded, disturbed, 
 and distempered. But when guided by right reason, we con- 
 ceive great esteem of, and zealously are enamoured with, and 
 vigorously strive to attain things of excellent worth, and 
 weighty consequence, the conscience of having well-placed 
 our affections, and well-employed our pains, and the experi- 
 ence of fruits corresponding to our hopes, fills our mind with 
 the utmost satisfaction. 
 
 " Wisdom distinguishes the circumstances, limits the mea- 
 sures, determines the modes, appoints the fit seasons for ac- 
 tion; so preserving decorum and order, the parent of peace, 
 and preventing confusion, the mother of disquiet, strife, and 
 iniquity." 
 
 " Wisdom discovers our relations, duties, and concernments, 
 in respect of men, with the natural grounds of them, thereby 
 both qualifying and inclining us to the discharge of them, 
 
298 
 
 whence exceeding convenience and content ensues. By it we 
 understand that we proceed from the same primitive stock, 
 are children of the same father, and partake of the same blood 
 with all men; are endowed with like faculties of mind, passions 
 of soul, shape of body, and sense of things : that we have 
 equally implanted in our original constitution, inclinations to 
 love, pity, gratitude, sociableness, quiet, joy, reputation : that 
 we have an indispensable need, and impatient desire of com- 
 pany, assistance, comfort, and relief: that, therefore, it is ac- 
 cording to the design of nature, and agreeable to reason, that 
 to those to whom our natural condition by so many bonds of 
 cognation, similitude, and mutual necessitude, hath knit and 
 conjoined us, we should bear a kind of respect and tender 
 affection; should cheerfully concur in undergoing the common 
 burdens, should heartily wish and industriously promote their 
 good, assist them in accomplishing their reasonable desires, 
 thankfully requite the courtesies received from them, congra- 
 tulate and rejoice with them in their prosperity, comfort them 
 in their distresses, and, as we are able, relieve them, or at least, 
 (for so much we can all do) tenderly compassionate their dis- 
 appointments, miseries, and sorrows. This renders us kind 
 and courteous neighbours, sweet and grateful companions. It 
 represents unto us the dreadful effects and insupportable mis- 
 chiefs, arising from breach of faith, contravening the obliga- 
 tions of solemn compacts, infringing public laws, deviating 
 from the received rules of equity, violating promises, and in- 
 terrupting good correspondence among men, by which con- 
 sideration it engages us to be good citizens, obedient subjects, 
 just dealers, and faithful friends. It reminds us of the blind- 
 ness, impotence, and levity, the proneness to mistake and mis- 
 behaviour, that human nature necessarily is subject to, de- 
 serving rather our commiseration than anger or hatred, which 
 prompts us to bear the infirmities of our brethren, to be gentle 
 in censure, to be insensible of petty affronts, to pardon injuries, 
 
299 
 
 to be patient, exorable, and reconcileable to those, that give us 
 the greatest cause of offence. So that Wisdom is in effect 
 the parent of all moral and political virtues ; and how sweet 
 these are in the practice, how comfortable in the consequences, 
 the testimony of continual experience, and the unanimous 
 consent of all wise men sufficiently declare." 
 
 " Wisdom prevents discouragement from the possibility of 
 ill success, yea, and makes disappointment itself tolerable. 
 For if either the foresight of a possible miscarriage, should 
 deter us from adventuring on action, or inculpable frustration 
 were insupportable, we should with no heart apply ourselves 
 to any thing ; there being no designs in this world, though 
 founded upon the most sound advice, and prosecuted by the 
 most diligent endeavour, which may not be defeated, as de- 
 pending upon divers causes above our power, and circumstan- 
 ces beyond our prospect. The inconstant opinions, uncertain 
 resolutions, mutable affections, and fallacious pretences of 
 men, upon which the accomplishment of most projects rely, 
 may easily deceive and disappoint us. The imperceptible 
 course of nature exerting itself in sudden tempests, diseases, 
 and unlucky casualties, may surprise us, and possibly put an 
 end to our businesses and lives together But even when we 
 fail of our purpose, if our intentions were upright, and that we 
 used fit means, and did our best, as no deserved blame, so no 
 considerable damage can arrive to us ; for hence we have 
 reason to hope, that the all-wise God reserves a better reward 
 for us, and will sometime recompence not only the good pur- 
 poses we unhappily pursued, but also the disappointment we 
 patiently endured ; which consideration, wherewith wisdom fur- 
 nishes us, will make the want of success not only tolerable, 
 but even comfortable to us. 'Tis foolish and ill-grounded in- 
 tentions, and practices not warranted by good reason, that 
 leave men disconsolate upon defeat." 
 
300 
 
 " But the principal advantage of wisdom is, its acquainting 
 us with the nature and reason of true religion, and affording 
 convictive arguments to persuade to the practice of it, which 
 is accompanied with the most ineffable delight possible. I 
 say the nature of religion, wherein it consists, and what it re- 
 quires, the mistake of which produceth daily so many mis- 
 chiefs and inconveniences in the world, and exposes so good 
 a name to so much reproach. It sheweth that it consisteth 
 not in fair professions and glorious pretences, but in real prac- 
 tice ; not in a pertinacious adherence to any sect or party, 
 but in a sincere love of goodness and dislike of naughtiness? 
 wherever discovering itself,- not in vain ostentations and flour- 
 ishes of outward performances, but in an inward good com- 
 plexion of mind, exerting itself in works of true devotion and 
 charity ; not in harsh censuring and virulently inveighing against 
 others, but in careful amending our own ways. Any one that 
 wisely hath considered the wisdom, goodness, and power of 
 his Creator, cannot imagine that God with a regardless eye, 
 overlooks a presumptuous contempt of his laws ; nor can ad- 
 mit unreasonable terrors, nor the entertaining of suspicious 
 conceits of him, as of an imperious master, or implacable ty- 
 rant, exacting impossible performances from, or delighting in 
 the fatal miseries of his creatures ; nor can suppose him pleased 
 with hypocritical shows, and greatly taken with superficial 
 courtships of ceremonious address ; or that he can in anywise 
 favour our fiery zeals, fierce passions, or unjust partialities 
 about matters of opinion; or can do otherwise than detest 
 all factious, harsh, uncharitable, and revengeful proceedings 
 of what nature, or upon what ground soever, or that he can 
 be so inconsistent with himself, as to approve any thing but 
 what is like Himself, that is righteousness, sincerity, and bene- 
 ficence" 
 
 " Lastly, wisdom purchaseth a future glorious reward, and 
 
301 
 
 secure th perpetual felicity to us, Happy is the man thatfind- 
 eth wisdom, and whoso Jindeth her, Jindeth life, and shall obtain 
 favour of the Lord" Barrow. 
 
 Thus it appears, the more actively and judiciously we exer- 
 cise our reason, and desire good, the more perfect will be our 
 wisdom. 
 
 Folly is the reverse of wisdom. Foolish people engage in 
 undertakings, without reflecting upon the means and capacity 
 they have of obtaining success, or upon the consequences likely 
 to follow from any part of their conduct. Now this may arise 
 from the weakness of their understanding, in which case the 
 evil is without a remedy, unless they will submit themselves to 
 the direction of the wise ; but if it be owing to bad habits, they 
 are more or less culpable, according to the various advantages, 
 natural or adventitious, they may have eitlier rejected or 
 abused. The children of folly are the sport of their own ca- 
 prices, or the artful designs of others. 
 
 Prudence, Imprudence, 
 
 " No Divinity is wanting where Prudence is." Thus said 
 a Pagan, but his meaning most evidently was, that prudence 
 is so safe a guide to conduct us through life, that those who 
 are capable and willing to make a reasonable use of experience, 
 have no need of a presiding deity, immediately to direct their 
 actions. 
 
 There is a great distinction we apprehend, to be made be- 
 tween Wisdom and Prudence. Wisdom aims to secure our 
 happiness, not only in this life, but in the next, whereas pru- 
 dence seems to imply merely a due attention to worldly inte- 
 rests ; a man, for instance, may be inordinately ambitious, 
 proud, vain, &c. and yet very prudent, though very unwise. 
 He limits his expenses within his income, lest he suffer the 
 evils he observes to be commonly attendant upon the want of 
 
302 
 
 this precaution; and he avoids, if possible, giving offence, from 
 the fear of involving himself in quarrels injurious to his repu- 
 tation, or family, or fortune ; in all these points, therefore, the 
 wise and the prudent man will fully concur, but the wise man 
 will do it upon principle, the prudent man upon calculation ; 
 the wise man will, moreover, endeavour as carefully to disci- 
 pline his invisible as his visible actions, while the mere pru- 
 dent man will feel little other anxiety, than to secure the ap- 
 probation of mankind. 
 
 Imprudence bears as close an alliance with folly, as pru- 
 dence does with wisdom. The imprudent man enters into 
 business without considering the probability and consequences 
 of failure ; or he risks his health or reputation, or fortune, or 
 domestic comforts, without any reasonable motive, by his 
 thoughtless manner of acting or speaking. If he want the 
 sense to form a better judgment, he is to be pitied ; otherwise, 
 those who are made timely to smart for their rashness, may, 
 possibly, discover before it be too late, that discretion is a 
 quality not to be despised, however they may be elevated by 
 rank, or fortune, or distinguished by talents. 
 
 But in the most common acceptation of the two words, Folly 
 and Imprudence, the first is, perhaps, most commonly applied 
 rather to such as want propriety in their manners, dress, lan- 
 guage, and general conduct ; the last, to those who are apt to 
 be extravagant, impetuous, &c. 
 
 Cause and Effect. 
 
 " We cannot but observe the constant vicissitudes of things, 
 and that several particulars, both qualities and substances, be- 
 gin to exist, and that they receive this their existence, from 
 the due application and operation of some other being. From 
 this observation we get our ideas of Cause and Effect." 
 Locke. 
 
303 
 
 " Anxiety for the future disposeth men to inquire into the 
 causes of things, because the knowledge of them, maketh men 
 the better able to order the present to their advantage." 
 Hobbes. 
 
 Causes are immediate or direct, or more or less remote or 
 indirect, or original. The man who makes a steam-engine, 
 for example, immediately causes its existence ; he who orders 
 and pays the cost, indirectly or more remotely causes it ; but 
 the inventor is the original cause of it, since, without his in- 
 vention, it would not have had being. But every particle of 
 matter, however manufactured by man, has been created or 
 caused to exist, by God himself. 
 
 We cannot more usefully employ our several faculties, than 
 in endeavouring to learn from experience, the immediate, and 
 in some things, the more or less remote causes that produce 
 the effects, we may wish either to continue, or to modify, or 
 to renew, or to remove, or to destroy ; for by such means alone 
 can we reasonably hope to cause effects, likely to obtain us 
 good, or to remove evil from us. 
 
 There are two sorts of Causes which we must carefully dis- 
 tinguish, as having very different origins. First, such causes 
 as we suppose to be coeval with the world itself, such as are 
 unceasingly producing their suitable effects, both in the moral 
 and physical worlds. The heavenly bodies revolve, the sea- 
 sons successively return, and each finds nature ever busy in 
 performing her infinitely various operations. Man feels love, 
 hatred, gratitude, revenge, the glow of devotion, the compunc- 
 tions of remorse, conjugal, parental, fraternal, and filial affec- 
 tion, confidence, suspicion, curiosity, &c. and all according as 
 he is affected by circumstances. The second sort of causes 
 are those depending upon the will of man. The former are 
 placed beyond his control, and he can no otherwise inter- 
 fere with even the effects of them, than by applying them 
 according to their several natures, to the purposes he may 
 
304 
 
 have in view, and this he does in an infinite variety of ways 
 and degrees. Nature brings us good or evil, according to 
 the impulse she immediately receives from the immutable 
 laws by which she is implicitly governed ; but man brings 
 us good or evil, according to the use or abuse he makes 
 of those powers, he can direct at his pleasure ; the opera- 
 tions of bodies upon one another, for example, may cause 
 the destruction of the prudent with the rash, the innocent 
 with the guilty, &c. whereas Man finds he is free to use, 
 or to forbear to use his strength against one or more of 
 his fellow-creatures. The more closely we investigate how 
 far the various evils we suffer, form a necessary part of the 
 general order of nature, and how far they originate in the 
 weakness or wickedness of man, the more likely we are to 
 succeed in discovering suitable remedies for the latter sort, 
 without wasting our time and labour in endeavouring to cor- 
 rect or remove those, we may, by reasonable experiments, 
 satisfactorily ascertain, to be entailed upon our very being. 
 
 The experience we derive from continually observing and 
 recording the spontaneous operations of nature, enable us to 
 judge, at what seasons we can with most advantage plough, 
 sow, reap, sail to different parts of the world, &c. and in what 
 manner to apply the several physical powers, to the making of 
 all artificial things. The same unwearied observations respect- 
 ing the workings of the human mind, and their consequences, 
 would, doubtless, in like manner, lead us to understand far 
 more correctly than we at present do, the best mode of self- 
 government, and the government of individuals, families, and 
 nations ; that is, if we could but divest ourselves of our selfish 
 feelings, and act up to our persuasion of the admirable truth, 
 that we ought honestly and strictly to do as we would be done 
 
 by. 
 
 It is the more necessary to have our attention constantly 
 directed to the noticing of the relations between causes and 
 
305 
 
 their effects, because no cunning contrivances of ours can 
 make certain effects to arise from foreign or inadequate causes, 
 either in the physical or in the moral world, or prevent certain 
 causes from producing their suitable effects. So strictly are 
 we limited, that we can do no more than bring certain things 
 within the influence of each other, but they will operate 
 (though not, perhaps, as we might wish, yet) indubitably, ac- 
 cording to the laws of nature. Thus fire will soften wax, 
 harden bricks, ripen fruits, destroy substances, exactly to the 
 degree the quantity applied is calculated to effect; and should 
 it not answer our purpose, we must, if we desire success, in- 
 crease or decrease the quantity, or modify it differently. In 
 like manner, whatever systems man establishes for the govern- 
 ment of individuals, families, and states, the effects those 
 systems produce generally upon the minds of the governed, 
 analogy makes it reasonable to believe, no less minutely and 
 unerringly correspond, upon the whole, with the arrangements 
 he may please to make. Nature, it is, that causes us to love, 
 hate, &c. but man may be the immediate cause of our loving or 
 hating, by presenting suitable objects to our senses, or by 
 treating us kindly or harshly, justly or unjustly, &c. and the 
 love or hatred excited, will be exactly proportioned to the 
 sort of treatment received, and to the character of the person 
 benefited or injured. To doubt of this, is to question whether 
 the immutable laws of nature have not been suspended, in 
 order to thwart or favour our particular plans. But were the 
 laws of nature mutable, how could man calculate with any 
 reasonable degree of probability, upon what would be the 
 effects of those causes, to which he himself might give exist- 
 ence ? He would have been the sport of chance, and judgment 
 and prudence mere ideal advantages. But this very extensive 
 power man has, of producing effects by causes of his own 
 creating, is the proudest prerogative he can claim over the 
 
 x 
 
306 
 
 rest of the creatures of the earth, and is the very foundation 
 of his moral responsibility. 
 
 It was Dr. Barrow's opinion that man is commonly of a no- 
 ble nature, capable of much knowledge and great virtue ; in 
 other words, that governors may cause him to be more or less 
 virtuous or vicious by the force of their example, laws, and 
 administration of them. " While we assert the existence 
 of God, we assert no other thing to be, than such as whereof 
 we can assign a manifest instance or example, as it were, al- 
 though in an infinitely inferior degree in man ; since what can 
 in any degree exist, 'tis not hard to conceive that possible to 
 exist in any degree how high soever : what is in kind possible, 
 is in any perfection of degree possible ; yea, what we see in a 
 lower degree somewhere to exist, doth probably elsewhere 
 exist in higher perfection. There is therefore scarce any at- 
 tribute commonly ascribed to God, the existence whereof we 
 cannot shew possible, yea, very credible proofs, by pointing 
 out some degree or, if you please, some shadow thereof dis- 
 cernible in man. Our souls bear some express resemblances 
 of our idea of Him, I say, especially as at first they were 
 made, and as by improvement of our capacities they may again 
 become. For as God being himself invisible, and not subject 
 to any of our senses, discovers himself by manifold effects of 
 wisdom and power ; so doth our soul, itself immediately ex- 
 posed not to our senses, shew itself by many productions of 
 art and industry, wherein she imitates nature and the works of 
 her Creator, although her works indeed in fineness and great- 
 ness cannot bear the least comparison with His. As God by 
 his presence and influence doth (saifh Aristotle) contain and 
 keep together the whole frame of things, so that he withdrawing 
 them, it would fall of itself into corruption and ruin ; so doth 
 the soul, by its union and secret energy upon the body, connect 
 the parts of the body and preserve it from dissolution, which 
 presently, upon its being separated from it does follow." 
 
307 
 
 " As He, in a manner beyond our conception, without any 
 proper extension or composition of parts, doth co-exist with, 
 penetrateth, and passeth through all things, so is she, in a 
 manner . also unconceivable, every where present within her 
 bounds, and penetrates all the dimensions of her little world. 
 As He incomprehensibly doth move the whole frame, or any 
 part of nature, so doth she, we cannot tell how, by thinking 
 only and by willing, wield her body and determine any mem- 
 ber thereof to motion. As He, not confined by the extension 
 or duration of things, doth at one view behold all things, not 
 only present, but past and future ; yea, whenever, wherever, 
 however, possible : so doth she, making wide excursions out 
 of her narrow mansion, in an instant, as it were, or with a mar- 
 vellous quickness, transcend any fixed bounds of time or 
 place, surveys in her thought the most remote regions, stop- 
 ping no where, and passing over the world's bounds into 
 spaces void and imaginary ; reviews ages long since past, and 
 looks forward into those long after to come ; sees things in 
 their causes, and as it were beyond them, even the possibi- 
 lities of things that never shall be. As He performs always 
 with wisest design to the best end, so doth she often set 
 herself on action with some drift or aim at good apparent to 
 her." 
 
 " As He himself abides immoveable, impassible, and immu- 
 table, so is she, immediately at least, not disturbed, not altered, 
 not affected, by the various motions that surround her; they 
 do not touch her, they cannot stir her ; among the many tu- 
 mults and tempests blustering all about her, she can retain a 
 steady calm and rest. So fair characters are there of the 
 Divine nature engraven upon man's soul ; but, alas ! in one 
 chief property the lineaments are more faint, and consequently 
 less discernible goodness I mean ; yet there do remain dis- 
 persed in the soil of human nature, divers seeds of goodness, 
 of benignity, of ingenuity, which being cherished, excited, and 
 
308 
 
 quickened by good culture, do to common experience, throw 
 out flowers very lovely, and yield fruit very pleasant, of virtue 
 and amiableness. We see that the generality of men are 
 prone to approve the laws and rules directing to justice, since- 
 rity, and beneficence ; to commend actions suitable unto them ; 
 to honour persons practising according unto them; as also to 
 distaste, detest, or despise such men, whose principles or tem- 
 pers incline them to the practice of injury, fraud, malice, and 
 cruelty ; yea even them men generally are apt to dislike, who 
 are so wrapped up in themselves as to be backward to do good 
 to others. Moreover, no man can act according to those 
 rules of justice and goodness without satisfaction of mind ; no 
 man can do against them without inward self-condemnation 
 and regret." 
 
 " In fine, the wisest observers of man's nature have pro- 
 nounced him to be a creature gentle and sociable, inclinable 
 to, and fit for conversation, apt to keep good order, to observe 
 rules of justice, to embrace any sort of virtue if well managed, 
 if instructed by good discipline, if guided by good example, if 
 living under the influence of wise laws and virtuous governors. 
 Fierceness, rudeness, craft, malice, all perverse and intractable, 
 all mischievous and vicious dispositions do grow among men 
 (like weeds in any, even the best soil), and overspread the 
 earth, from neglect of good education ; from ill-conduct, ill- 
 habits, ill-example ; but man's soul hath appetites and capaci- 
 ties, by which, well guided and ordered, it soars and climbs 
 continually in its affection and desire towards Divine Perfec- 
 tion." 
 
 If such be the nature of man, surely we may reasonably 
 hope that, by the proper use of his several faculties, he may 
 cause effects productive upon the whole of much happiness, 
 not only to himself but to very many others. 
 
309 
 
 Design, Intention, Chance, Accident. 
 
 CJiance or Accident is opposed to Design or Intention. 
 Having a design is having an intention to cause certain effects ; 
 and although we may by our actions, directly or indirectly, 
 cause effects very contrary to our intentions, yet we cannot 
 but be considered the authors of the good or evil that results 
 from the measures we have pursued. Moreover it seems 
 reasonable to believe, that we shall be made responsible here- 
 after for such evils as have.occurred, in consequence of our re- 
 fusing to consult our own reason, or to listen to the sugges- 
 tions and warnings of others. 
 
 Chance or accident we suppose to imply an effect that oc- 
 curs without one's having, by any previous arrangements, pre- 
 pared or provoked it to happen or take place in the manner it 
 does. Thus some one may have a fancy to bequeath his pro- 
 perty to another, who has not pursued any measures to obtain 
 it, and the legatee is said to get it by Chance; but peculiar 
 circumstances will have caused the legator to dispose of his 
 property otherwise than might reasonably have been expected ; 
 some circumstances, for instance, connected with his own cha- 
 racter or conduct, or with that of his natural or legal heirs, 
 and thus he Designs or intends to dispose of it in the manner 
 specified. The most cautious meet with a fatal accident when 
 least apprehending danger, having by chance struck a vital 
 part ; the rashest escape almost certain destruction, by being 
 caught in their fall down a precipice by a bush perhaps; 
 " Time and chance happeneth to all." 
 
 In what manner and upon what occasions it may please God 
 to interfere with human affairs, or how far he leaves us to the 
 ordinary operations of nature, can be known only to Himself. 
 If he govern all things by general laws, the most trifling ac- 
 cidents or chances cannot happen contrary to them without 
 his direct interposition, of this truth we must be fully persua- 
 ded, and also that we are under the superintendence of uner- 
 
310 
 
 ring Wisdom. But the ways of Providence being impenetra- 
 ble to human sagacity, we here crave leave, for brevity's sake, 
 to treat of chance as a casualty, and not as an immediate inter- 
 ference of Heaven. 
 
 We may distinguish three sorts of chances: 1. Any per- 
 son being born at any period of time, and under any particu- 
 lar circumstances. Unless we believe the doctrine of the trans- 
 migration of souls, it seems rational to suppose that creatures 
 are born in the regular order of nature, without any respect 
 of persons, and that they will receive their merited reward or 
 punishment, here or hereafter, according as they acquit them- 
 selves in the station in which they find themselves placed ; the 
 temptations to which they have been exposed, and the force 
 of their powers to resist them, being duly weighed one against 
 the other. A person, for instance, may be born healthy or 
 sickly, with an easy or difficult temper, more or less intelligent, 
 with kindly or perverse dispositions, rich or poor, of virtuous 
 or vicious, harsh or indulgent, judicious or injudicious parents, 
 in freedom or in slavery, in peaceable or in turbulent times, in 
 a dark or in an enlightened age, &c. The ordinary chances 
 we are liable to, in the physical world also, come under this 
 head. 
 
 2. We cannot discover, or even guess the causes of the 
 second sort ; why any one, for instance, should hold fortunate 
 cards for many deals, during many hours, and with many dif- 
 ferent packs ; and perhaps the very next day, be as invariably 
 unlucky, and so of similar chances ; and moreover, some per- 
 sons are more generally lucky or unlucky than others. 
 
 3. The causes of the third sort do not elude our search in 
 the same manner, though they are more or less difficult to be 
 discovered. In these sort of chances we always find the causes, 
 when we succeed in attaining to a knowledge of them, to be 
 quite adequate to their effects. It is recorded of Alexander, 
 the son of Philip, for example, that he marched with his army 
 
311 
 
 from Egypt across the Desert of Lybia to the temple of Ju- 
 piter Ammon, and that on his return, he and all his soldiers 
 would have perished with thirst, but for a most seasonable heavy 
 shower of rain, which in falling just in that spot, proved the 
 salvation of the Macedonian hero and his fainting army ; and 
 but for this chance, Alexander the Great, as he is styled, 
 would have been pronounced (as Prideaux justly observes) a 
 madman instead of a conqueror. How often does chance seem 
 to favour, or be adverse, to some persons more than others, 
 not only on one occasion, but sometimes during the whole pro- 
 gress of their lives. But every man's destiny being liable to be 
 more or less influenced, directly or indirectly, not only by his 
 own conduct, but by the conduct of every one, with whom he 
 may be any way connected, it cannot in the present order of 
 things happen otherwise. There are numbers whose most 
 praiseworthy efforts are continually counteracted by the folly 
 or wickedness of their associates, and not a few on the con- 
 trary, who dash from them every advantage, that intelligent, 
 affluent, or powerful friends would fain secure to them. 
 
 As far as a man's welfare depends upon his own actions, he 
 seems commonly, upon the whole, to reap the fruits of his 
 prudence, or of his imprudence, of his virtues, or of his vices ; 
 but inasmuch as it is influenced by the conduct of others, he 
 must apparently ever be more or less the sport (under a super- 
 intending Providence) of chance or accident, sometimes favour- 
 ing, sometimes thwarting him. 
 
 When we see the vicious successful, not only by chance, 
 but by their own efforts, and the virtuous unsuccessful, we 
 must recollect, that the vicious are sometimes both more intel- 
 ligent and more prudent, and that unless it may please God 
 immediately to interfere, they must, as long as causes shall be 
 allowed to operate their suitable effects, be so far entitled to 
 enjoy worldly prosperity. Buk%he general laws of nature se- 
 cure to the virtuous an advantage they cannot lose, but by 
 
312 
 
 their own consent, <{ a sound conscience ;" whereas the vicious, 
 with the utmost aid even of talents, riches, and power, will fail 
 to obtain " the Peace that passeth all understanding." For, 
 
 " The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy 
 Is virtue's prize." 
 
 And so nicely are causes and effects proportioned to each 
 other, by perfect Wisdom, that the virtuous, while they are 
 permitted to enjoy the internal satisfaction arising from their 
 general upright intentions, are left to suffer the self-reproaches 
 attached to the neglect of due attention to their minor duties 
 in life. 
 
 The consideration of the influence of chance upon our ge- 
 neral welfare, ought to make us but the more earnest to con- 
 duct ourselves with wisdom or due caution upon all occasions ; 
 since we find we are continually liable to suffer, not only na- 
 tural evils, and those we may bring upon ourselves, but like- 
 wise, from the adverse circumstances which may be imposed 
 upon us by men of all characters and stations, and also by 
 mere Chance. How much, therefore, have we need, of obey- 
 ing the dictates of that religion, which advises, " On earth 
 Peace, good-will towards men." It bids us to conciliate all 
 men as much as possible, instead of irritating them by our 
 harshness and inhumanity, to become either our avowed or 
 secret enemies, so as greatly to increase our manifold dangers 
 in this very variously and strangely chequered life. 
 
 " We are obliged to various duties of humanity, upon ac- 
 count of common interest, benefit, and advantage. The wel- 
 fare and safety, the honour and reputation, the pleasure and 
 quiet of our lives are concerned, in our maintaining a loving 
 correspondence with all men. For so uncertain is our condi- 
 tion, so obnoxious are we to manifold necessities, that there is 
 no man, whose good-will we may not need, whose good word 
 may not stand us in stead, whose helpful endeavour may not 
 
313 
 
 sometimes oblige us. The great Pompey, who triumphed 
 over nations, the admired darling of Fortune, was beholden at 
 last to a slave for the composing his ashes, and celebrating his 
 funeral obsequies. The honour of the greatest men depends 
 on the estimation of the least, and the good-will of the meanest 
 peasant is a brighter ornament to the fortune, a greater acces- 
 sion to the grandeur of a prince, than the most radiant gem in 
 his royal diadem. However the spite and enmity of one (and 
 him the most weak otherwise and contemptible person,) may 
 happen to spoil the content of our whole life, and deprive us 
 of the most comfortable enjoyments thereof; may divert our 
 thoughts from our delightful employments, to a solicitous care 
 of self-preservation and defence ; may discompose our mind 
 with vexatious passions ; may, by false reports, odious sugges- 
 tions, and slanderous defamations, blast our credit, raise a 
 storm of general hatred, and conjure up thousands of enemies 
 against us ; may, by insidious practices, supplant and under- 
 mine us, prejudice our welfare, endanger our estate, and in- 
 volve us in a bottomless gulf of trouble : it is but reasonable, 
 therefore, if we desire to live securely, comfortably, and quietly, 
 that by all honest means we should endeavour to purchase the 
 good-will of all men, and provoke no man's enmity needlessly ; 
 since any man's love may be useful, and every man's hatred 4s 
 dangerous." Barrow. 
 
 Habit, Custom, Fashion. 
 
 Each individual, as we said before, has his peculiar propen- 
 sities, some of them natural, some acquired ; these propensities 
 lead him more or less frequently to repeat certain actions, and 
 these repetitions finally render these actions habitual to him, 
 so that at length, he can scarcely refrain from, or at least feel 
 easy in the omission of them. We give to these several repe- 
 
314 
 
 titions of actions the name of Habit ; thus a person is said to 
 have a habit of riding, walking, studying, &c. that he has good 
 or bad habits of life, &c. We acquire habits either insensibly, 
 or by compulsion) or voluntarily: insensibly, by commonly 
 following the natural bent of our inclinations ; by compulsion, 
 when we submit to the commands of others, either from the 
 fear of being punished for disobediencej or of causing annoy- 
 ance to those we love or esteem, or wish to recommend our- 
 selves to ; voluntarily, when we steadily discipline ourselves, 
 or idly indulge our fancies. 
 
 Habits serve gradually to make our several duties more 
 easy, nay, oftentimes most agreeable to us ; but on the other 
 hand, they in like manner also strengthen our evil propensi- 
 ties, and render our resistance to them more and more difficult. 
 Medea, deeply practised in vice, exclaims, 
 
 " Remorse and sense of guilt draw back ray soul 
 But stronger passion does her power control ; 
 With rage transported I push boldly on, 
 And see the precipice I cannot shun !" 
 
 Habit is thus said to be our second nature, because it often 
 gives a force to our propensities, that they derive not from our 
 original constitution ; it is evident, therefore, that it must be 
 either a powerful auxiliary, or a most dangerous opponent to 
 the instructors of youth. 
 
 As habit is fitted to produce in us, more or less, the love of 
 virtue, and hatred of vice, or the love of vice, and indifference 
 to virtue ; so is it calculated likewise, to cause us uneasiness 
 upon the loss of any of our accustomed enjoyments, or upon 
 the removal of certain objects that have long affected any of 
 our senses ; and also afterwards to reconcile us, or at least to 
 diminish our regret, upon the continuance of our greater or 
 minor deprivations. 
 
 Custom seems to be but another name for habit, for cus- 
 
315 
 
 toms are, we apprehend, but the habits of a community ; cus- 
 tom being a propensity the several members of a community 
 generally have, to adopt certain modes of dressing, eating, 
 drinking, visiting, building, seeking amusements, performing 
 religious ceremonies, &c. Some nations, we find, ever remain 
 strictly attached to certain customs, and that others again are 
 prone continually to change them ; those who are given to 
 change, seem to have adopted the word Fashion, to denote 
 a variable custom, and the caprices of the fashionable world 
 form a curious contrast to the fixed modes of Hindostan. 
 
 Customs are said to be the laws of society, habits in like 
 manner, are no less the laws of individuals, for habits rule in- 
 dividuals no less imperiously, than customs do communities ; 
 and, moreover, in the house of an individual, we are in some 
 measure, as much subjected to his habits, as we are to the cus- 
 toms of the community into which we enter, or of which we 
 form a part. 
 
 " If we would live in peace, we must readily comply with 
 the innocent customs established in the places where we live. 
 Customs are in effect, inferior laws enacted by the tacit agree- 
 ment of the generality of men ; the non-observation of which, 
 is, upon many accounts, very prejudicial to a peaceable life. 
 For to those concerned in it, it will always seem to intimate a 
 squeamish niceness, a froward perverseness, a manifest de- 
 spising other men's judgments, and a virtual condemning their 
 practices of fault or folly, and consequently a monopolizing 
 all goodness, and appropriating all wisdom to one's-self ; qua- 
 lities intolerably odious to men, and productive of enmity. It 
 incenses the people (highly susceptible of provocation) with a 
 sense of notable injury done, and contempt cast upon it. For 
 the only authority which the commonalty can lay claim to, 
 consists in prescribing rules of decency in language, habit, 
 gesture, ceremony, and other circumstances of action, declared 
 and ratified by ordinary practice ; non-conformity to which, is 
 
316 
 
 by them adjudged a marvellous irregularity, contumacy, and 
 rebellion against the majesty of the people, and is infallibly 
 revenged and punished by them." 'Barrow. 
 
 Example, Precept. 
 
 Moral Example is, we apprehend, any particular act, or a 
 combination of acts, that mark any part, or the whole of a 
 man's character, i. e. whether he be virtuous or vicious, wise 
 or foolish, also in what manner and to what degree. Thus 
 he may afford the example of being, upon one or more occa- 
 sions, or in general, just or unjust, considerate or over-bearing, 
 disinterested or selfish, forgiving or revengeful, &c. Good 
 example has little need of Precept to recommend itself, but 
 precept becomes highly impertinent, when not enforced on 
 proper occasions by example. Thus the rich, who practise 
 not the virtues they inculcate, must render themselves objects 
 of contempt to the poor, since they betray their knowledge of 
 what is right, while they expose their weakness, by not con- 
 forming their own conduct to their instructions. Favour, 
 riches, and even chance, have often, and may again exalt vice 
 or folly to the highest degree of rank and splendour, but no 
 power, however despotic, can command for them, even when 
 so elevated, that genuine respect and devotion much oftener 
 coveted than obtained. 
 
 " Judges and Senates have been bought for gold, 
 Esteem and Love were never to be sold." 
 
 " Examples do more compendiously, easily, and pleasantly, 
 inform our minds, and direct our practice than Precepts, or 
 any other way or instrument of discipline. Precepts are de- 
 livered in an universal and abstracted manner, naked, and void 
 of all circumstantial attire, without any intervention, assistance, 
 
317 
 
 or suffrage of sense, and consequently can have no vehement 
 operation upon the fancy, and soon do fly the memory. But 
 good Example, with less trouble, more speed, and greater 
 efficacy, causes us to comprehend the business, representing 
 it like a picture exposed to sense, having the parts orderly 
 disposed, and completely united, contained in a narrow com- 
 pass, and perceptible at one glance, so easily insinuating itself 
 into the mind and durably resting therein. And this is the 
 most facile, familiar, and delightful way of instruction, which 
 is by experience, history, and observation of sensible events." 
 
 " This discourse is verified by various experience ; for we 
 find all masters of art and science, explicating, illustrating, and 
 confirming their general rules and precepts by particular ex- 
 amples : mathematicians demonstrate their theorems by schemes 
 and diagrams, which in effect are but sensible instances : ora- 
 tors back their enthymemes (or rational argumentations) with 
 inductions (or singular examples) : philosophers allege the 
 practice of Socrates, Zeno, and the like persons of famous 
 wisdom and virtue, to authorise their doctrines : politics and 
 civil prudence are more easily and sweetly drawn out of good 
 history, than out of books de republica: artificers describe 
 models, and set patterns before their disciples with greater 
 success, than if they should deliver accurate rules and pre- 
 cepts to them ; for who would not more readily learn to build, 
 by viewing carefully the parts and frame of a well-contrived 
 structure, than by a studious inquiry into the rules of archi- 
 tecture ; or to draw, by setting a good picture before him, 
 than by merely speculating upon the laws of perspective ; or 
 to write fairly and expeditely, by imitating one good copy, 
 than by hearkening to a thousand oral prescriptions, the un- 
 derstanding of which, and faculty of applying them to prac- 
 tice, may prove more difficult and tedious, than the whole 
 practice itself as directed by a copy ? Neither is the case much 
 
318 
 
 different in moral concernments, since in less time, and with 
 greater ease, we may learn our duty by regarding the deport- 
 ment of some excellent person, than by attending to many phi- 
 losophical discourses concerning it." 
 
 " Good examples not only inform, but they persuade and 
 incline our reason to good practice, commending it to us by 
 plausible authority. How boldly, for instance, do men adven- 
 ture their dearest interests, in following such as they deem 
 honest and able to guide them. Even in travelling, if one 
 being ignorant or doubtful of his way, happen to meet a 
 stranger whom he conceives no wise concerned, or disposed 
 to mislead him, he will, without scruple, follow him, and con- 
 fidently rely on his direction ; and in like manner, all good 
 men considered to be in a virtuous course of life, tending di- 
 rectly toward happiness, (our common journey's end) induce 
 most persons to think it reasonable, and safe to accompany 
 them in their progress, or to press after them in their steps." 
 
 " Examples do incite our passions, and impel them to the 
 performance of duty ; they raise hope, they inflame courage, 
 they provoke emulation, they awaken curiosity, they affect 
 fancy ; they set in motion all the springs of activity. It may 
 not be amiss to shew how, particularly." 
 
 " First, they raise hope, by discovering to us, and assuredly 
 proving the feasibleness of matters propounded, or the pos- 
 sibility of success in undertaking good designs, and that, by 
 the best and most convincing of arguments, Experience. No- 
 thing so depresseth hope, and advanceth despondency, as an 
 apprehension of impossibility, or which is equivalent thereto, 
 an extreme difficulty (appearing to surmount our present for- 
 ces) in the business to be attempted ; of such a conceit, de- 
 spair seemeth a reasonable consequence, for it is a madness to 
 attempt impossibilities. He, therefore, that would effectually 
 persuade the undertaking of any enterprize, must either sup- 
 
319 
 
 pose it, or prove it efFectible; and the most easy, the most 
 evident way of proving it, is by example. Human infirmity 
 (saith Salvian) requires the assistance of Example, that it may 
 more easily now perform that, which it knows others to have 
 before done, all posterity being admonished by hearing that 
 what hath once been done, may be done again." 
 
 " Secondly, examples do inflame courage, for that heat, and 
 active spirit, which in some degree resideth in all men's breasts, 
 is by example kindled, as one flame is kindled by the contact, 
 or approach of another. How many persons timorous, averse 
 from dangerous undertakings, have notwithstanding become 
 very bold and adventurous in war, by the discipline and influ- 
 ence of an exemplary valour : besides, it is a kind of daring, 
 that proclaimeth him a dastard who will not imitate it, which 
 imputation, the lowest courage of man can hardly digest, and 
 will therefore, by doing somewhat answerable, strive to dis- 
 own it. 
 
 " Thirdly, examples provoke emulation, which is another 
 strong principle of activity, moving us earnestly to desire (and 
 thence eagerly to pursue) whatever good, privilege, or advan- 
 tage, we see another to enjoy. Why shall not I become as 
 good, as commendable, as happy, as any other man ? These 
 are the conceits and voices of natural emulation, that mighty 
 passion, implanted in our original constitution, and the which 
 perhaps hath produced more noble effects, than any other in- 
 clination of our souls ; for all manner of excellency in know- 
 ledge, in prowess, in virtue, how often doth it issue from this 
 source ? The Apostle to the Hebrews chargeth us, to provoke 
 one another to charity and good works" 
 
 " Fourthly, example awakens that curiosity which is natural 
 to us, and of no mean efficacy upon our actions. For what- 
 ever we see done, we are apt to be inquisitive concerning it, 
 why, and to what purpose it is done, what the grounds are, 
 and what the fruits of the performance, especially, if the mat- 
 
320 
 
 ter seem considerably important, and the action proceedeth 
 from a person deserving respect ; whereof, having passed some 
 competent judgment, we are, by the same instinct of curiosity, 
 farther transported into a desire of discerning by our own 
 trial and experience, whether the event corresponded! to our 
 expectation, so are we easily induced to imitate the actions of 
 others. As vice is by this means ordinarily conceived and 
 propagated, (men by a preposterous and perverse curiosity, 
 being inveigled to try what they see others affect or enjoy) so 
 may virtue also, by the same means, be engendered and nou- 
 rished, the general ways of producing and maintaining those 
 contrary habits being alike. As therefore, it is a great ble- 
 mish and reproach to human nature, that we (as the Satirist 
 observeth) have a great proclivity to follow naughty examples; 
 so there is from hence some amends, that we have also incli- 
 nations to imitate good and worthy precedents ; the which is 
 somewhat more strong and vigorous, because countenanced 
 and encouraged by the approbation of reason, our noblest 
 faculty." 
 
 " Fifthly, examples also do please the mind and fancy in 
 contemplation of them, thence drawing a considerable influ- 
 ence upon practice. No kind of studious entertainment doth 
 so generally delight as history, or the tradition of remarkable 
 examples : even those, who have an abhorrency, or indispo- 
 sition toward other studies, (who have no genius to apprehend 
 the more intricate subtleties of science, nor the patience to 
 pursue rational consequences) are yet often much taken with 
 historical narrations; these striking them with a delectable 
 variety of accidents, with circumstantial descriptions, and sen- 
 sible representations of objects, do greatly affect and delight 
 their fancies; especially, the relation of notable adventures, 
 and rare accidents, is wont to be attended with great pleasure 
 and satisfaction. The history which reports the actions of 
 the best men, must in reason be esteemed not only the most 
 
321 
 
 useful, but also the most pleasant, yielding the sweetest enter- 
 tainment to well-disposed minds ; wherein we see virtue ex- 
 pressed, not in bare idea only, but in actual life, strength, 
 motion, in all its beauty and ornaments ; than which, no spec- 
 tacle can be more stately; no object more grateful can be 
 presented to the discerning eye of reason." 
 
 " To conclude, and as upon so many accounts we are most 
 strongly invited to follow good Examples, they being of such 
 vast use toward our proceeding in the way to happiness, by 
 conducing to the clear instruction of our understanding, to 
 the forcibly inclining our reason, to the vehement excitement 
 of our passions, to the delightfully affecting our imagination 
 in subserviency to good practices ; let us make that due and 
 profitable use of them, which we should and may do." 
 
 Master, or Ruling Passion. 
 
 The term Master or Ruling Passion seems to express, The 
 strongest prevailing propensity of each individual. If we ad- 
 mit that no two men are constituted alike, we must believe, 
 that every person has naturally a peculiar tendency to certain 
 modes of action ; and consequently, that the most powerful 
 of them, being the most difficult to restrain, may properly 
 enough be called the master or ruling passion. 
 
 But upon a closer examination of this subject, we shall per- 
 haps discover, that the ruling passion, like any other, some- 
 times originates entirely in habit, being foreign to the original 
 character of the individual. We offer an instance of it to the 
 reader, and it is not we believe a rare one, in a letter from the 
 celebrated Lord Chesterfield to his son. His Lordship in 
 thus making a candid confession of the errors of his youth, 
 affords us a striking proof of the extensive and important in- 
 fluence both of example and habit on human life. 
 
322 
 
 " The character which most young men first aim at, is that 
 of a man of Pleasure ; but they generally take it upon trust, 
 and instead of consulting their own taste and inclinations, they 
 blindly adopt whatever those, with whom they chiefly converse, 
 are pleased to call by the name of pleasure. As it may be of 
 use to you, I am not unwilling, though at the same time 
 ashamed to own, that the vices of my youth proceeded much 
 more from my silly resolution of being, what I heard called a 
 man of pleasure, than from my own inclinations. I always 
 naturally hated drinking, and yet I have often drunk with dis- 
 gust at the time, attended by great sickness the next day, only 
 because I then considered drinking as a necessary qualification 
 for a fine gentleman, and a man of pleasure. The same as to 
 gaming. I did not want money, and consequently had no 
 occasion to play for it, but I thought play another necessary 
 ingredient in the composition of a man of pleasure, and ac- 
 cordingly, I plunged into it, without desire, at first, sacrificed 
 a thousand real pleasures to it, and made myself solidly uneasy 
 by it, for thirty the best years of my life. I was even absurd 
 enough for a little while to swear, by way of adorning and 
 completing the shining character I affected ; but this folly I 
 soon laid aside, upon finding both the guilt and indecency of 
 it. Thus seduced by fashion, (in other words example) and 
 blindly adopting nominal pleasures, I lost real ones, and my 
 fortune impaired, and my constitution shattered, are, I must 
 confess, the just punishment of my errors. Take warning 
 then by them ; chuse your pleasures for yourself, and do not 
 let them be imposed upon you. Follow nature and not fa- 
 shion : weigh the present enjoyment of your pleasures, against 
 the necessary consequences of them, and then let your own 
 common sense determine the choice. 
 
 " Were I to begin the world again, with the experience 
 which I now have of it, I would lead a life of real, not of ima- 
 ginary pleasure. 1 would not at twenty years be a preaching 
 
323 
 
 missionary of abstemiousness and sobriety ; and I should let 
 other people do as they would, without formally and senten- 
 tiously rebuking them for it ; but I would be most firmly re- 
 solved, not to destroy my own faculties and constitution in 
 complaisance to those who have no regard to their own. I 
 would play to give me pleasure, but not to give me pain, that 
 is, I would play for trifles, in mixed companies to amuse my- 
 self, and conform to custom; but I would take care not to 
 venture for sums, which, if I won I should not be the better 
 for ; but if I Lost, should be under a difficulty to pay ; and 
 when paid, should find myself obliged to retrench in several 
 other articles, not to mention the quarrels which deep play 
 commonly occasions. I have not mentioned the pleasures of 
 the mind, which are the solid and permanent ones, because 
 they do not come under the head of what people commonly 
 call pleasures, which they seem to confine to the senses. The 
 pleasure of virtue, of charity, and of learning, is true and last- 
 ing pleasure, which I hope you will be long and well acquainted 
 with." 
 
 Can we require a more highly coloured picture to shew us 
 the folly and danger of suffering ourselves to be led, like 
 Bruin, by the nose, instead of exercising our own understand- 
 ing to determine our actions ? 
 
324 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Systems of Education futile. Principal causes of the great diversity of opinions 
 entertained upon the subject of Education. Two sorts of Education to be care- 
 fully distinguished. The Education of a child to be suited to his powers, cha- 
 racter, and situation in life. Good Habits constitute a good Education. 
 
 Systems of Education futile. 
 
 HAVING, as we apprehend, (with Mr. Locke's assistance) dis- 
 cerned what the various sorts of ideas are the mind entertains, 
 what are the different powers it is endowed with to arrive at 
 knowledge, and what are the several excitements, principal, 
 and primary dispositions, that commonly impel man to action ; 
 the next inquiry that seems naturally to present itself is, In 
 what manner his several powers are likely to be most success- 
 fully matured, and his very various propensities duly controlled 
 or encouraged. Were we all gifted with nearly the same capa- 
 bilities, and combinations, and degrees of dispositions, and 
 were most individuals of the same class, pretty nearly similarly 
 circumstanced, it would he comparatively easy to adapt sys- 
 tems of education to the several ranks of persons in society. 
 But as the perception of things produces effects accord- 
 ing to the constitution and present temper of the mind, in 
 the same manner, as the same sort of food is differently di- 
 gested, according to the constitution and present state of the 
 stomach, &c. no author has attempted to do more, than to 
 suggest some general principles for the management of youth, 
 to be applied at the discretion of the governor, according to 
 
325 
 
 the peculiarities of each constitution both of mind and body, 
 present state of feeling and health, existing circumstances, and 
 future prospects in life. 
 
 Principal causes of the great diversity of opinions entertained 
 upon the subject of Education. 
 
 There are very few, if any subjects, upon which men seem 
 to entertain a greater diversity of opinions than upon educa- 
 tion. But this is not difficult to explain. In the first place, 
 it is scarcely possible, in very many cases, to trace effects to 
 their proper causes, on account of their remoteness from each 
 other, for children often casually imbibe opinions that deter- 
 mine their conduct years afterwards : Secondly, they are con- 
 tinually influenced by a variety of circumstances, which cir- 
 cumstances frequently escape our notice, or do not come within 
 our observation : Thirdly, though we are aware, that there is 
 as great a variety in the original structure of the intellects and 
 character of man, as in his form and features, yet we frequently 
 find it beyond our penetration to discover what these peculi- 
 arities precisely are, in the individual we are concerned to 
 make ourselves the most intimately acquainted with. Mr Locke 
 says, however, that " the distinguishing character of the face, 
 and the lineaments of the body, grow more visible with time, 
 but the peculiar physiognomy of the mind is most discernible 
 in children." These various difficulties serve strongly to prove, 
 how necessary it is carefully to examine, What feelings and 
 dispositions are common to us all, in order to facilitate the 
 discovery of what peculiar restraints and indulgences each 
 child requires ; but we cannot hope to succeed, unless we at 
 the same time carefully keep our reason unbiassed, so that we 
 may judge of things as they really are, and not as we wish 
 them to be. Many persons have been perplexed by observ- 
 
326 
 
 ing, that when most pains have been taken with children, they 
 have sometimes least answered the expectations of their friends, 
 and that on the contrary, the neglected have not unfrequently 
 become the most shining and estimable characters. But may 
 not this be reasonably accounted for, by supposing that the 
 children were in the first case fine subjects unhappily misma- 
 naged, or that they were deficient in intellect, or of untoward 
 dispositions, or that some circumstances were more adverse to 
 them than was suspected ? In the other, that a superior mind 
 being often left unshackled, attained to eminence by its own 
 Strength and sagacity. 
 
 Two sorts of Education to be carefully distinguished. 
 
 The term Education is by some persons defined to be, The 
 effects our thoughts, actions, and circumstances are calculated 
 to have both upon the mind and body throughout life ; while 
 others confine it To the governing and instructing of children. 
 Education, in its most comprehensive sense, may, perhaps, be 
 properly enough called, " The Education of Nature," since she 
 unceasingly subjects us to be influenced by the effects that arise 
 from the very various causes to which we ourselves give exist- 
 ence, as well as to those that are every where operating around 
 us. If, for instance, reason fail to control the appetites, the 
 body is distressed by the consequences of intemperance, and 
 in its turn, either irritates the ill-regulated mind, or causes it 
 to be reformed by so wholesome a chastisement. Such is the 
 education we receive throughout life, for nature never relaxes 
 this sort of authority over us, as long as our reason and con- 
 science are capable of doing each their proper office. The 
 training or educating of a child, we suppose, implies, the 
 regulating, as far as lies in our power, all his habits of life, so 
 as to establish the health both of his mind and body, and to 
 
327 
 
 give either of them a polish his pretensions in society may de- 
 mand. When we endeavour to cause certain effects, by means 
 that have the most generally answered in practice, we may 
 rationally hope to accomplish our purpose ; but otherwise, how- 
 ever suitable our management mfght prove to a being of our 
 own creation, it is not likely to answer with a creature framed 
 like man. We may variously modify the materials with which 
 nature has furnished us, but we cannot change their constitu- 
 tion ; a very sharp razor cannot, we suppose, be manufactured 
 with lead or mercury. Self-education is, The duly regulating 
 our temper and dispositions, or the allowing them, more or 
 less, to determine us to action without the suffrage of our 
 reason. 
 
 We may clearly, therefore, distinguish two sorts of educa- 
 tion, the one necessarily received from nature herself, the 
 other from man, and these two, experience assures us, conti- 
 nually and powerfully influence each other. Nature continu- 
 ally influences us, because she has both framed and subjected 
 us to be variously operated upon, in a determined manner, by 
 certain things : Man, because he as continually and as vari- 
 ously modifies these operations. Our guardians, for instance, 
 discipline or neglect us during our earliest years, and bias our 
 judgment by their precepts, conversation, and examples ; our 
 other associates also, both at home and abroad, more or less 
 improve or corrupt us by their various actions; our rulers 
 either encourage virtue, or tolerate and countenance vice in 
 the state, by their moral conduct and distribution of offices ; 
 and we ourselves, more or less, wisely or unwisely, regulate 
 the effects these, and many other circumstances, are calculated 
 to have upon our character generally. The degree of respon- 
 sibility respectively attached to ourselves, our guardians, ru- 
 lers, and associates, for our errors or vices, it seems reasonable 
 to believe, depends not only upon the degree of constitutional 
 intelligence and firmness we are respectively gifted with 5 but 
 
328 
 
 likewise upon our being more or less unavoidably exposed, 
 either by the mismanagement or wicked designs of others, to 
 imbibe more or fewer evil impressions. " The Tempter or 
 the Tempted, who sins most?" Temptations are sometimes 
 made so ensnaring, or men are so forcibly driven into vicious 
 scenes or bad habits of life, that even human judges relent in 
 their favour, and shrink from the task of announcing the 
 punishment, annexed by the soundest wisdom to the crime 
 abstractedly considered: and were it otherwise miserable 
 indeed would be the lot of those born in adversity. Thus 
 man, as a creature endowed with reason, social love and sym- 
 pathy, and professing Christianity, cannot but earnestly desire 
 that the evils which are not absolutely imposed upon humanity 
 by nature herself, should be judiciously and effectually re- 
 lieved, and the recurrence of them carefully prevented as far 
 as it be practicable, 
 
 Self- Government. 
 
 We cannot entertain a doubt, but that some persons find it 
 far more difficult than others, to govern their temper and dis- 
 positions, but this consideration ought to serve only to render 
 them yet more attentive, in timely checking any irritation or 
 evil thoughts that may arise, since none but their Creator can 
 know what capabilities they have of subduing them, and we 
 are told that he will judge them accordingly. It behoveth us, 
 therefore, to make every possible effort, in order to obtain the 
 mastery over our propensities of every kind, so shall we find 
 favour in His eyes, " who pitieth us, even as a father pitieth his 
 children, and who remembereth we are but dust." 
 
 Our Temper requires our unwearied attention, because it 
 is unceasingly operated upon, either by persons or things. 
 Parents, children, friends, servants, dependants, acquaintan- 
 ces, countrymen, strangers, &c. all have their claims upon us, 
 and all may tax our patience and forbearance. We are an- 
 
329 
 
 noyed by the ill-timed fawning or perverseness of our domes- 
 tic animals, by the heat and cold, by the rain and dust, by the 
 attacks of insects, by having too much of one thing, or too 
 little of another, by the derangement of some part of our 
 body, by the resistance of our desires to our reason, &c. And 
 if we examine farther into this matter, we shall discover the 
 strongest proof, that God requires of us to keep continual 
 guard over ourselves, since he has ordained that bad propen- 
 sities may, by neglect, disturb the sweetest tempers. It is as 
 common to find evil dispositions united with an easy, as good 
 dispositions with a difficult temper. A person of a difficult 
 temper, becomes by proper management and self-control a 
 valuable citizen, a safe friend, and an agreeable companion ; 
 while, by self-indulgence, he who has an easy temper often 
 proves a scourge to the community to which he belongs, and 
 a destroyer of the peace and prosperity of his own family. An 
 easy temper, with a well-regulated mind, is indeed a most 
 enviable combination, but sometimes both the temper and dis- 
 positions are naturally very perverse, and demand our utmost 
 vigilance. 
 
 It is particularly to be observed, that some of the apparent 
 varieties of our dispositions, are often in fact only different 
 degrees of the same ; and that we are as liable to err in doing 
 too much as in doing too little ; the medium is perfection, but 
 from that, we are ever prone to deviate one way or the other. 
 If we have courage, for instance, we are apt to become rash ; 
 if generous, extravagant ; if economical, parsimonious ; if firm, 
 obstinate ; if flexible, too yielding, &c. Thus in so imperfect 
 a creature as man, we must never expect to find directly oppo- 
 site good dispositions, united in an eminent degree in the same 
 person, but readily excuse a failing that seems to arise out of 
 its concomitant virtue ; for example, we both expect and sooner 
 pardon undue severity in a steady character, than in one of an 
 
330 
 
 opposite description. But when we find the same persons to 
 be capriciously extravagant and parsimonious, imprudent and 
 exacting, cowardly and rash, &c. we are disgusted, by their be- 
 traying not only the defects common to their general character, 
 but those also from which we perceive others of the same 
 stamp to be most commonly exempt. But it is delightful, on 
 the other hand, to behold the extravagant become steadily 
 economical, the parsimonious generous, the rash cautious, &c. 
 such a revolution proves them to have subdued an untoward 
 disposition or bad habit, either of which is a conquest worthy 
 of an immortal spirit. 
 
 The Education of a Child to be suited to his Powers, 
 Character, and Situation in Life. 
 
 Upon undertaking the education of a child, we ought to en- 
 deavour by continual observation, to discover the force of his 
 several intellectual powers, the degree of his bodily health and 
 strength, the character both of his temperament and temper, 
 of his primary dispositions, and his predominant directing dis- 
 positions, and forming our opinion of his general character 
 from his looks, gestures, manners, language, and other habitual 
 actions, we should next take into consideration in what man- 
 ner such a subject ought probably to be managed, so as to 
 be made most fully to answer his apparent natural endowments, 
 both of mind and body. We must likewise take into account 
 what is his present situation, and what his future prospects ; 
 for though it is commonly impracticable to arrange matters 
 most for his advantage, yet we may prevail with him by suita- 
 ble discipline, cheerfully to accommodate himself to any ad- 
 verse and unavoidable circumstances that attend his entrance 
 into life, and his progress therein, and indeed often to turn 
 them to his benefit. 
 
331 
 
 The Education of the Person. 
 
 The education of the person concerns the general health, 
 the cleanliness, and care of the different parts of the body 
 that require regular attention. Children differ not more widely 
 from each other in intellect, temperament, temper, dispositions, 
 features, and form, than they do in their Gestures, Movements, 
 and Attitudes, and we must sedulously guard against the fre- 
 quent repetition of any awkward tricks that may otherwise 
 become habitual to them. But, however, as grace cannot, we 
 suppose, be imparted to another, and as they most certainly 
 may very easily acquire affectation, it appears far more advisa- 
 ble commonly to leave them to their own natural movements, 
 z. e. to act in the manner they are constituted to do in these 
 matters (unless they require correction) than to present mo- 
 dels for them to imitate. 
 
 Education of the Temper and Dispositions. 
 
 The education of the dispositions ought to be accommo- 
 dated to the strength or weakness of them severally ; like- 
 wise to the character of the temperament and temper. It 
 is here our business to excite, or moderate, or subdue, and 
 generally regulate all propensities and inclinations, accord- 
 ing as they may demand our interference ; or, in other words, 
 young persons ought to be brought up in such habits of life as 
 are commonly found to be most advantageous to them, not only 
 as individuals, but as members of a family, of a community, 
 and of a certain class and vocation. 
 
 Education of t)& Intellect. 
 
 The education of the intellectual powers should be strict- 
 ly determined by their respective constitutional strength or 
 weakness, as well as by the general character and age of the 
 individual ; " for though the faculties of the mind are improved 
 by exercise, yet they must not be put to a stress beyond their 
 
332 
 
 power; the mind, by being engaged in a task exceeding its 
 strength, like the body, strained by lifting at too heavy a 
 weight, has often its force broken, and thereby gets an inapt- 
 ness, or an aversion to any vigorous attempt ever after." For 
 want of due attention to this rule many parents have suffered 
 severe disappointments, and their children laboured under im- 
 putations little deserved. 
 
 To the dissipated we would say, " Nature never makes ex- 
 cellent things for mean or no purposes, and it is hardly to be 
 conceived that the infinitely wise Author of all things should 
 create so admirable a faculty as the power of thinking, that 
 faculty that comes nearest the excellency of his own incom- 
 prehensible Being, to be idly and unprofitably employed." 
 Locke. 
 
 To the studious, 
 
 " May nor thirst of fame, 
 
 Nor love of knowledge, urge you to fatigue 
 
 With constant drudg'ry the liberal soul." Armstrong. 
 
 Many men of fine genius have, we apprehend, sacrificed the 
 enjoyment of a protracted and happy life, and deprived man- 
 kind of numerous invaluable monuments of human sagacity 
 and dexterity, by the inordinate indulgence of their most laud- 
 able propensities. Intellectual like manual labour must surely 
 require periodical and seasonable relief, fully proportionate to 
 the degree to which the several powers have been kept on the 
 stretch, were it only to restore their proper tone, so as to fit 
 them to return with renewed alacrity to the accomplishment 
 of their arduous task : and if such timely relaxation is highly 
 beneficial, even within the short term of some hours, how in- 
 dispensable must it necessarily prove to the maintaining of the 
 faculties in a vigorous state during a long course of years ? All 
 nature cries aloud that children ought never to be long confined 
 to any one place, posture, or employment. If the body be 
 >iot duly invigorated by daily and wholesome exercises in the 
 
333 
 
 open air, it cannot attain to that degree of health and strength 
 it is constituted to reach. During four months of the winter, 
 from eleven to two, being commonly the three finest hours of 
 the day, occurring betwixt the morning and evening damps or 
 fogs, they ought to be held sacred for the performance of this 
 very important duty ; and the dining at two, or half past, in- 
 stead of one, would be every way a more advantageous ar- 
 rangement for those who have passed their infancy. The 
 short interval betwixt breakfast and dinner would, by this ar- 
 rangement be lengthened, and the long evenings curtailed 
 that confine children so many hours within doors. Indeed it 
 is highly desirable that their hours of study should be altoge- 
 ther determined by the season of the year, since the summer 
 mornings and evenings invite them to live abroad, as much as 
 the " sunbeam in a winter's day" warns them not to lose the 
 short-lived brilliancy of the noon-tide hour. 
 
 Good Habits constitute a Good Education. 
 We may very shortly and yet very properly define a good 
 education to be, A combination of good habits ; a bad one the 
 reverse. A youth, for instance, who has acquired habits of 
 early rising and of cleanliness, of daily expressing his gratitude 
 to God, of occupying himself actively, methodically, and pro- 
 fitably, of taking regular and sufficient exercise, of observing 
 temperance in the use of all things, of duly controlling his 
 several inclinations, of considering other people's convenience 
 and comfort as well as his own, and of noticing in those things 
 with which he has to do, the relations between causes and their 
 effects, is in the way to become eminent for his useful virtues, 
 and, if he please, his general accomplishments, though he may 
 have made little progress in what is called learning : and if 
 children be taught judiciously, that is, with due regard to their 
 age, health, and capacity, and suitably to their temperament, 
 
334 
 
 temper, and dispositions, it may reasonably be hoped, not 
 many of them would afterwards feel disposed to persevere in 
 any material deviation from the observance of rules, that im* 
 posed only wholesome restraints upon them. 
 
 There are few persons probably who cannot recollect many 
 melancholy examples, of the insufficiency of shining talents 
 and of worldly support and applause, to secure a man from 
 the mischiefs attendant upon the continued indulgence of bad 
 habits. A comparison between the conduct, death, and repu-t 
 tation of the noted Duke of Wharton and the celebrated Dr. 
 Franklin, will serve strikingly to illustrate the vast importance 
 of timely encouraging a relish for good, and an aversion to evil 
 habits. 
 
 Children are continually reminded that the discipline which 
 is irksome or appears harsh to them, is for their ultimate advan- 
 tage, that is to say, that future good will arise out of present 
 uneasiness. A child, as soon as he is capable of under- 
 standing the meaning of words, is easily made to experience 
 the truth of this and similar observations. If he be idle, 
 for instance, he sees others rapidly advancing before him ; 
 if disobliging, he is disliked ; if a liar, he is not believed ; if 
 dishonest, he is not trusted, &c. and thus he suffers, sooner 
 or later, various sorts of evils naturally arising both from his 
 faults and errors; whereas a diametrically opposite conduct is 
 usually attended, especially at an early age, with diametrically 
 opposite effects, and he is rewarded with the good he has 
 well merited. Such repeated experience, if it be suitably en- 
 forced, often makes a strong impression upon the yet tender 
 mind, and induces children subsequently to take heed gene- 
 rally of the consequences of what they are about to do. 
 
 We particularly recommend a habit of continually aiming 
 to do every thing, however important or trifling, in the most 
 dexterous, expeditious, and effectual manner possible ; and 
 w-ere young people commonly to follow this rule what number- 
 
335 
 
 less ill-imagined, ill-executed, and ill-arranged things would 
 disappear, and universal improvement proportionally advance. 
 The most difficult part of education, and indeed of human 
 conduct, perhaps, is the disposal of the hours of recreation 
 to the advantage both of the body and mind ; 
 
 " To please the fancy is no trifling good 
 Where health is studied 
 
 whatever cheerful and serene 
 
 Supports the mind, supports the body too." Amstrong. 
 
 Rural and social sports and excursions, farming, gardening, 
 botany, geography, the belles lettres, &c. and though last not 
 least, rational conversation, may alternately conduce, if pro- 
 perly measured and timed, to adorn the mind with general in- 
 formation, and to render it cheerful and content, while the 
 body obtains its due share of wholesome relief and refresh- 
 ment. 
 
 Order, Method, Punctuality. 
 
 The love of Order originates in our early habits, or in the 
 desire of good ; for the observance of order enables us to do 
 every thing at its proper time and place, to do more, and to do 
 better, and often prevents our losing opportunities that unex- 
 pectedly occur either of obtaining good or of avoiding evil. 
 
 Being Methodical is the doing things generally in due or- 
 der ; the observing order " in the distribution of our time ; 
 order in the conduct of our affairs," &c. also the placing 
 things where we may readily find them, likewise the being 
 punctual to our time and engagements both at home and 
 abroad, &c. We cannot entertain a doubt of the advantages 
 children derive from regular habits of life ; and, as we know 
 not at what age the want of order might begin to have a pre- 
 judicial influence upon their future conduct, we are called upon 
 very early to pay strict attention to this part of their educa- 
 tion. By a regular and useful distribution of our time the 
 
336 
 
 mind becomes habituated to making certain exertions at cer- 
 tain hours, and " the settlement of it on fit objects, or its ac- 
 quiescence in determinate action, conducing to a good end, 
 whereby we are freed of doubts, distraction, and fastidious 
 listlessness, doth minister content." Barrow. Whereas when 
 we yield ourselves up to desultory employments, much time is 
 often lost before we can decide what shall first engage our at- 
 tention, and we are moreover apt in this case to be easily di- 
 verted from business, for the dissipated finding us wavering 
 and embarrassed, have commonly little difficulty in prevailing 
 against our better resolutions. 
 
 It is surprising that persons of sense and propriety should 
 some of them attach little importance to Punctuality, since the 
 regular measuring of one's time always marks a mind more or 
 less capable of appreciating its value. Without punctuality 
 there cannot be a proper degree of order observed ; and with- 
 out order many of the most important transactions in life would 
 be liable to be seriously interrupted. Besides, with what shew 
 of reason can we inculcate punctuality to our children and 
 household, and strictly exact it from them, and in a few mi- 
 nutes afterwards, perhaps, give them a striking example of our 
 own irregularity ? " And how canst thou say to thy brother, 
 brother, let me pull out the mote that is in thine eye ?" 
 
 " In small, as well as in great affairs, a due regard to order is 
 requisite. Disorder, like other immoralities, takes its rise from 
 inconsiderable beginnings. They who in the lesser transac- 
 tions of life are very negligent of rule, will be in hazard of 
 extending that negligence by degrees to such affairs and du- 
 ties as will render them criminal. Remissness grows on all 
 who study not to guard against it, and it is only by frequent 
 exercise that the habit of order and punctuality can be tho- 
 roughly confirmed. The man of order is connected with all 
 the higher powers and principles in the universe, his character 
 is formed on the spirit which religion breathes, for religion in 
 
337 
 
 general, and the religion of Christ in particular, may be called 
 the great discipline of order." Blair. 
 
 Procrastination or Delay. 
 
 We have all of us a greater or less propensity to procrasti- 
 nate, in order to enjoy a little more pleasure, or to put off the 
 moment of labour, till we are more imperiously urged to relin- 
 quish the one and to buckle to the other. " Procrastination 
 is the thief of time :" truly it robs us of no inconsiderable 
 share of our duration, and makes us very uneasy during many 
 more hours of the remainder of it. The adhering steadily to 
 the determination to do what we ought, and not what we like, 
 is the grand panacea for this evil. 
 
338 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Simplicity, Affectation. Civility, Good-breeding. The Fundamental Principles of 
 Education applicable to both Sexes. 
 
 Simplicity, Affectation. 
 
 WE distinguish simplicity of Character, of Taste, of Lan- 
 guage, and of Gesture, Gait, and Manners. 
 
 Simplicity of character we understand to imply, a mind not 
 sophisticated by the entertainment (generally) of opinions very 
 contrary to our earliest spontaneous feelings. 
 
 Simplicity of taste, the having a high relish for the charms 
 of the country, and a preference for works of art, habits of 
 life, manners, &c. that are commonly considered the most con- 
 formable to sound reason. 
 
 Simplicity of language, the expressing oneself with more or 
 less grace, without seeking to embellish one's style with the 
 flowers of rhetoric. 
 
 One who has simplicity of gesture, gait, and manners, looks, 
 moves, and behaves, as his feelings dictate, without being im- 
 mediately influenced by his own notions of grace and beauty, 
 or by any consideration of what his associates or others may 
 think of him. 
 
 Affectation is the acting, speaking, moving, &c. differently 
 from what one would do, but for an overweening anxiety to 
 appear to advantage. 
 
339 
 
 Mother Eve, in the beautiful simplicity of nature, had 
 
 " Grace in all her steps, Heav'n in her eye, 
 In every gesture dignity and love." 
 
 Civility, Good-breeding. 
 
 Civility we apprehend to be, the natural expression of our 
 social feelings upon occasions that require us to shew the com- 
 mon courtesies of life towards each other ; and when we are not 
 civil we are selfish, i. e. indifferent to the annoyance we may thus 
 occasion others. We quote the opinion of Lord Chesterfield 
 as a high authority upon the subject of good-breeding: " To 
 sacrifice one's own self-love to other people's is a short, but I 
 believe a true definition of Civility ; * to do it with ease, pro- 
 priety, and grace, is Good-breeding. The one is the result of 
 good-nature ; the other of good sense joined to experience, 
 observation, and attention. It cannot be exactly defined, be- 
 cause it consists in a fitness, a propriety of words, actions, 
 and even looks, adapted to the infinite variety and combina- 
 tions of persons, places, and things ; for what is good-breed- 
 ing at court would pass for banter in a remote village, and the 
 homespun civility of a village would be considered as brutality 
 at court." 
 
 " Good-breeding, like charity, not only covers a multitude 
 of faults, but to a certain degree supplies the want of some 
 virtues, for in the common intercourse of life it acts good- 
 nature, and often does what mere good-nature cannot always 
 do ; it keeps both wits and fools within those bounds of de- 
 cency which the former are too apt to transgress, and which 
 the latter never know." 
 
 * His lordship's definition does not, however, appear to us correct, because we be- 
 lieve civility is often expressed without the least sacrifice of self-love ; so much to the 
 contrary, that it would often cause us pain to resist the inclination we have to prac- 
 tise it. 
 
340 
 
 " Courts are unquestionably the seats of good-breeding, 
 and must necessarily be so, otherwise they would present 
 scenes of violence and desolation. There all the passions are 
 in their highest state of fermentation, all pursue what but one 
 can obtain, and many seek what but few can enjoy. Good- 
 breeding alone restrains their excesses ; there, if enemies did 
 not embrace, they would stab ; there, smiles are often put on 
 to conceal tears ; there, mutual services are professed, while 
 mutual injuries are intended ; and there the guile of the serpent 
 simulates the gentleness of the dove : all this it is true at the 
 expense of sincerity, but upon the whole to the advantage of 
 social intercourse in general." 
 
 " I would not be misapprehended, and supposed to recom- 
 mend good-breeding thus profaned and prostituted to the pur- 
 poses of guilt and perfidy ; but I think I may justly infer from 
 it, to what a degree the accomplishment of good-breeding must 
 adorn and enforce virtue and truth, since it can so far soften 
 the outrages and deformity of vice and falsehood." 
 
 " A ploughman will be civil if he be good-natured, but can- 
 not be well-bred. A courtier will be well-bred if he have but 
 good sense." 
 
 " Flattery is the disgrace of good-breeding, as brutality of- 
 ten is of truth and sincerity good-breeding is the medium 
 between these two odious extremes. Love and friendship 
 necessarily produce, and justly authorize familiarity ; but then 
 good-breeding must mark out its bounds, and say, thus far 
 shalt thou go and no farther ; for I have known many a pas- 
 sion and many a friendship degraded, weakened, and at last 
 (if I may use the expression) wholly flattened away, by an un- 
 guarded and illiberal familiarity." 
 
 " Upon the whole, though good-breeding cannot, strictly 
 speaking, be called a virtue, yet it is productive of so many 
 good effects, that, in my opinion, it may justly be reckoned 
 more than a mere accomplishment." From the World. 
 
341 
 
 Civility is in fact founded upon the divine precept of doing 
 as we would be done by ; whatever mode of behaviour there- 
 fore offends against it, departs so much from genuine good- 
 breeding it is a spurious sort that may cease with other 
 follies of the day genuine good-breeding, on the contrary, 
 never changes, nor is it easy of imitation, requiring, as Lord 
 Chesterfield observes, good sense, knowledge of the world, 
 and habitual practice ; whereas, all capricious fashionable de- 
 viations from it, any vulgar senseless coxcomb may success- 
 fully copy. He who indulges a propensity to insolence, imper- 
 tinence, or negligence in society toward any one, is absolutely 
 guilty of high treason against the fundamental laws of good- 
 breeding ; and a frequent repetition of the offence stamps a 
 man as ill-bred, whatever his other accomplishments and pre- 
 tensions in life may be. 
 
 The duties attached to civility and good-breeding are strictly 
 confined to making our presence mutually as agreeable, and 
 consequently as little offensive as possible to each other. 
 Whenever we violate the rules of civility, we sin against that 
 forbearance and consideration we are commanded by the high- 
 est authority, to practise universally towards all our fellow 
 creatures. To assume a false character with intent to deceive 
 or betray, seems to us, to have no connexion whatsoever with 
 good-breeding, but to be absolutely a breach of morality, 
 marking depravity of mind, not manners. 
 
 " If we would maintain a peaceable estate of life, we must 
 use toward all men those demonstrations of respect and cour- 
 tesy, which, according to their degree and station, custom doth 
 entitle them to, or which upon the common score of humanity 
 they may be deemed reasonable to expect from us, respective 
 gestures, civil salutations, free access, affable demeanour, cheer- 
 ful looks, and courteous discourse. These, as they betoken 
 good-will in such as use them, so they beget, cherish, and 
 increase it in those whom they refer to, and the necessary fruit 
 
342 
 
 of mutual good-will, is peace. But the contrary carriages, con- 
 temptuous or disregardful behaviour, difficulty of admission 
 to converse, a tetrical or sullen aspect, rough and fastidious 
 language, as they discover a mind averse from friendly com- 
 merce, so they beget a more potent disdain in others ; men 
 generally (especially those of generous and hearty temper) va- 
 luing their due respect beyond all other interests, and more 
 contentedly brooking injury than neglect. Whence this skill 
 and dexterity of deportment (though immediately, and in its 
 own nature of no great worth, regulating actions of small 
 importance, gestures, looks, and forms of speech, yet,) be- 
 cause it is a nurse of peace, and greatly contributes to the de- 
 lightfulness of society, hath been always much commended. 
 Men have given it a conspicuous place in the honourable rank 
 of virtues, under the titles of courtesy and affability, and the 
 opposites thereto, rudeness and haughtiness, have been deser- 
 vedly counted and called vices in morality." Barrow. 
 
 " Good-breeding, which lies not in the putting off of a hat, 
 nor making of compliments, but in a due composure of lan- 
 guage, looks, motion, posture, place, &c. suited to persons and 
 occasions, can be learned only by habit and use ; and the car- 
 riage is not as it should be till it is become natural in every 
 part, falling as skilful musicians' fingers do into harmonious or- 
 der, without care and without thought ; for if in conversation 
 a man's mind be taken up with a solicitous watchfulness about 
 any part of his behaviour, his motions will be constrained, un- 
 easy and ungraceful. Wherefore it is necessary, that this 
 branch of education should particularly engage the governor's 
 attention, in order that an habitual gracefulness and politeness 
 in all his carriage may be settled in his charge, so that he need 
 not advice when he has neither time nor disposition to re- 
 ceive it ; for it comes very harshly to a grown man who has 
 lived ever so little in the world." 
 
 " Good qualities are the substantial riches of the mind, but 
 
343 
 
 it is good-breeding that sets them off, and he that will be 
 acceptable must give beauty as well as strength to his actions. 
 No one contents himself with rough diamonds, and wears them 
 so, who would appear with advantage." 
 
 Lord Chesterfield gives his son a general outline of his plan of 
 education : " From the time you have had life, it has been the 
 principal and favourite object of mine to make you as perfect as 
 the imperfections of human nature will allow : in this view I have 
 grudged no pains nor expense in your education, convinced 
 that education more than nature is the cause of that great dif- 
 ference which we see in the characters of men. While you 
 were a child I endeavoured to form your heart habitually to 
 virtue and honour, before your understanding was capable of 
 shewing you their beauty and utility. Those principles which 
 you then got, like your grammar-rules, only by rote, are now, I 
 am persuaded, fixed and confirmed by reason. And indeed 
 they are so plain and clear that they require but a very mode- 
 rate degree of understanding, either to comprehend or prac- 
 tise them. Lord Shaftsbury says very prettily, that he would 
 be virtuous for his own sake, though nobody were to know it, 
 as he would be clean for his own sake, though nobody were to 
 see him. I have therefore, since you have had the use of your 
 reason, never written to you upon those subjects, they speak 
 best for themselves ; and I should now just as soon think of warn- 
 ing you gravely not to fall into the dirt or the fire as into dis- 
 honour or vice. This view of mine I consider as fully attained. 
 My next object was sound and useful learning ; my own care 
 first, Mr. Harte's afterwards, and of late (I will own it to your 
 praise) your own application, have more than answered my ex- 
 pectation in that particular ; and I have reason to believe will 
 answer even my wishes. All that remains for me to wish, to 
 recommend, to inculcate, to order, and insist upon, is good- 
 breeding, without which all your other qualifications will 
 be lame, unadorned, and to a certain degree unavailing," &c. 
 
344 
 
 We will compare it with what Mr. Locke says upon the same 
 subject : " The great work of a governor is to fashion the 
 carriage and form the mind ; to settle in his pupil good ha- 
 bits and the principles of virtue and wisdom ; to give him, by 
 little and little, a view of mankind, and work him into a love 
 and imitation of what is excellent and praiseworthy ; and, in 
 the prosecution of it, to give him vigour, activity, and industry. 
 The studies which he sets him upon are but as it were, the 
 exercises of his faculties and employment of his time, to keep 
 him from sauntering and idleness ; to teach him application 
 and accustom him to take pains, and to give him some little 
 taste of what his own industry must perfect ; for who expects 
 that under a tutor a young gentleman should be an accom- 
 plished critic, orator, or logician ? Go to the bottom of meta- 
 physics, natural philosophy, or mathematics, or be a master 
 in history and chronology ? Though something of each of 
 these may be taught him, yet it is only to open the door that 
 he may look in, and as it were begin an acquaintance, but not 
 dwell there ; and a governor would be much blamed that 
 should keep his pupil too long, and lead him too far in most 
 of them. A gentleman that would penetrate deeper, must do it 
 by his own genius afterwards, for nobody ever went far in 
 knowledge, or became eminent in any of the sciences, by the 
 discipline and constraint of a master ; but of good-breeding, 
 knowledge of the world, virtue, industry, and a love of reputa- 
 tion, he cannot have too much ; and if he have these, he will 
 not long want what he needs or desires of the other." 
 
 Lord Chesterfield, it is evident, expected Mr. Stanhope to 
 assume the air, carriage, manners, and language of a courtier 
 with as much readiness as he put on his birthday suit ; but the 
 deluded father however, upon attempting subsequently to polish 
 him, like a second Cymon, by the force of love, only disgraced 
 himself, without removing the chains rivetted upon his son, 
 by the force of long continued habit. His Lordship very 
 
345 
 
 possibly best knew courts, but Mr. Locke certainly proved 
 himself the most intimately acquainted with human nature; 
 for experience serves continually to confirm the truth of his 
 assertion, that good habits, both of morality and manners, is 
 the surest ground-work for future eminence in wisdom and 
 good-breeding. 
 
 " It is the exercise of our powers only, which gives us abi- 
 lity and skill in any thing, and leads us towards perfection. A 
 middle-aged ploughman will scarce ever be brought to the 
 carriage and language of a gentleman, though his body be as 
 well-proportioned, his joints as supple, and his natural powers 
 not any way inferior. The legs of a dancing-master, and the 
 fingers of a musician fall, as it were, naturally, without thought 
 or pains, into regular and admirable motions. Bid them change 
 their parts, and they will in vain endeavour to produce the 
 like motions in the members not used to them, and it will 
 require length of time and long practice, to their attaining 
 even to some degree of ability. As it is in the body, so is it 
 in the mind, no person acquires dexterity by hearing of rules, 
 or laying them up in his memory. Practice must settle the 
 habit of doing without reflecting on the rule, and you may as 
 well hope to make a good painter, or musician extempore, by 
 a lecture, and instruction in the arts of music and painting, as 
 a coherent thinker, or strict reasoner, by a set of rules, shew- 
 ing him wherein right reason consists." 
 
 We have expatiated somewhat largely upon this subject, 
 because Mr. Stanhope's case seems strikingly to illustrate, the 
 force both of Nature and Education. If we want to give 
 nature any particular bias, we must first endeavour to learn 
 at what season, in what manner, and to what degree, we can 
 pretend to do it ; for though in some respects, she is pliant 
 enough, yet in others, we shall find her to remain so sternly 
 inflexible, as to mock our utmost efforts to divert her from 
 her purpose. 
 
346 
 
 Propriety, Decency, Impropriety, Indecency. 
 
 General propriety and decency of conduct implies, that the 
 usual tenor of a man's actions, is suitable to his station and 
 rank in the commonwealth, to his several relations as husband, 
 father, master, citizen, subject, &c. and that he performs his 
 very various moral duties, the most trifling, as well as the 
 most important, in a manner altogether becoming a well-regu- 
 lated mind. Such a person will especially be decent in his 
 gestures, speech, and behaviour. 
 
 Courteous, Affable, Condescending, Familiar. 
 
 Courtesy is the desire of rendering ourselves agreeable to 
 those we associate with. The philanthropist is spontaneously 
 disposed to be courteous to all men ; but some persons appear 
 so, only because they have a pleasant way of shewing their 
 good-breeding, or that they desire to be popular. We com- 
 monly use the term Affable, when we would express conde- 
 scension, and thus one gentleman is courteous to another, and 
 affable and condescending to his inferiors ; but affability sup- 
 poses a degree of familiarity in conversation, and thus a supe- 
 rior may be condescending without being familiar. 
 
 Easy, Formal, Ceremonious. 
 
 We are disposed to be more or less easy in our intercourse 
 with others, or more or less ceremonious, &c. 
 
 Respectful, Obsequious. 
 
 And to treat them with more or less respect, or to be more 
 or less obsequious to them, i. e. to treat them with a degree of 
 deference, their superiority does not command, and that our 
 own proper dignity forbids. 
 
 Various sorts of emotions cause us to weep, but it is some- 
 
347 
 
 times entirely physical a mere morbid sensibility grief, joy, 
 shame, newly excited hopes or fears, disappointments, recol- 
 lections, tenderness arising either from love or pure philan- 
 thropy, &c. are calculated to draw tears from our eyes. But 
 few weep at calamities to which time has accustomed them, as 
 few laugh at jests with which they have been long familiar. 
 
 Smiles, Laughter. 
 
 We are more or less disposed to smile benignantly, or mali- 
 ciously, or scornfully, or merrily, as also to laugh. " Epictetus 
 condemns the laughing upon every occasion as an argument 
 of insufferable levity. A man that is eternally upon the giggle 
 shews a mighty defect of judgment, and that every little occa- 
 sion of mirth is master of his temper. For this reason, it 
 ought not to be frequent, nor to continue long at a time, nor 
 should it be noisy nor violent, nor convulsive, but shew the 
 evenness and steady government of the mind, by being mo- 
 dest, and scarce exceeding a smile, which moves the lips a 
 little, and yet so, as scarce to make any alteration in the face." 
 Simplicius's Comment, upon Epictetus. 
 
 The fundamental Principles of Education applicable to both 
 
 Sexes. 
 
 The fundamental principles of education must be equally 
 applicable to both sexes, since the object is to make both the 
 one and the other healthy, virtuous, intelligent, and well-bred. 
 An early intercourse with the world, and the rougher exer- 
 cises to which the stronger sex is naturally inclined, prepare 
 men for the proper discharge of their public duties, in which 
 they have often immediately to contend against the most 
 vicious part of mankind, and to bear great bodily fatigue. But 
 the duties of women, though widely different, are no less im- 
 portant, and the most exalted female genius cannot covet a 
 
348 
 
 nobler employment, than the one nature has unquestionably 
 decreed her, the care of her children's health and morals du- 
 ring their infancy, and the forming of wives and mothers for 
 the rising generation. Nature, by thus placing man's greatest 
 stake in the custody of the weaker sex, proves her impartia- 
 lity, and as she is supposed always wisely to proportion her 
 means to her ends, she seems by this arrangement, evidently 
 to have assigned woman an equal rank with man in the in- 
 tellectual world. Grace, beauty, and intelligence, appear 
 to be portioned out without distinction of sex, as without 
 regard to rank. 
 
 Gentleness and delicacy are the distinguishing characteris- 
 tics of woman, and girls cannot be kept too ignorant of what- 
 ever may tend to sully the purity of their minds. The happy 
 delusions of innocence, and the blush of unaffected modesty, 
 are not to be beheld with indifference. Were girls generally 
 rationally educated, those who are from circumstances after- 
 wards debarred the gratification of some of their best affec- 
 tions, would be able profitably and satisfactorily to fill up many 
 of the vacant hours such a deprivation must necessarily leave 
 them, and of which we see not a few most laudable examples 
 in the present age. 
 
 It is only the latter part of the following quotation, from 
 Mr. Locke, that does not afford excellent rules for the ma- 
 nagement of girls, as well as of boys. He says, " Begin be- 
 times nicely to consider your son's temper, and that, when he 
 is under the least restraint. See what are his predominant 
 passions and inclinations, whether he be fierce or mild, bold 
 or bashful, compassionate or cruel, &c. for as these are differ- 
 ent in him, your authority must hence take its measures to 
 turn him different ways, as your judgment shall direct. These 
 native propensities, these prevalencies of constitution, are not 
 to be cured by a direct contest ; and after all, the bias will 
 always be on nature's side, so that if you carefully observe his 
 
349 
 
 character in the first scenes of his life, you will ever after be 
 commonly able to judge, which way his inclinations are likely 
 to lead him under particular circumstances." 
 
 " When by making your son sensible that he depends on you, 
 and is in your power, you have established your authority ; 
 and by being inflexibly severe, when obstinately persisting in 
 any ill-natured trick, but especially lying, you have imprinted 
 on his mind that awe of you which is necessary ; and on the 
 other side, when by permitting him the full liberty due to his 
 age, and laying no restraint in your presence to those childish 
 actions and gaiety of carriage, which whilst he is very young, 
 are as necessary to him as meat or sleep, you have reconciled 
 him to your company, and made him sensible of your care and 
 love of him ; especially, by being kind to him after a thousand 
 fashions, which nature teaches parents better than I can ; he 
 is then in the state you could desire, and you have formed in 
 his mind that true reverence, by which you will always have 
 hold upon him, to turn him to the ways of virtue and honour." 
 
 " Though I have mentioned the severity of a father's brow, 
 as one main instrument, whereby your son's education is to be 
 conducted, yet I think it should be relaxed as fast as the 
 young man's age, discretion, and good behaviour will allow ; 
 even to that degree, that you will do well to consult him about 
 those things wherein he has any knowledge or understanding ; 
 for by gradually treating him as a man, you will insensibly 
 raise his mind above the usual amusements of youth, in which 
 it is commonly wasted. If you would have him open his heart 
 to you and ask your advice, you must set him the example ; 
 and there is scarce any young man of so little thought, or so 
 void of sense, as not to be glad of a sure friend, whom he 
 might freely consult; but the reserve and distance fathers 
 keep, often deprive their sons of that most effectual protection 
 against the dangerous influence of youthful passions." 
 
 " Would your son engage in some frolic, or take a vagary, 
 
350 
 
 were it not much better he should do it with, than without 
 your knowledge ? For since allowances must be made to young 
 men, the more you know of his intrigues and designs, the bet- 
 ter you will be able to prevent greater mischiefs, by letting 
 him see what is likely to follow from his rashness. But what- 
 ever he consults you about, unless it lead to some fatal and 
 irremediable evil, be sure you advise only as a friend of more 
 experience, otherwise it were to prevent him having recourse 
 to you in future difficulties, and thus to deprive him of your 
 counsel. You must consider that he is a young man, and has 
 pleasures and fancies which you are past, and you must not 
 expect him to have the same inclinations and thoughts at 
 twenty, as you have at fifty. All that you can wish is, that 
 since youth must have some liberty, some outleaps, they might 
 be with the ingenuity of a son, and under the eye of a father, 
 and then no very great harm can come of it. This will in- 
 crease his love and esteem of you, without lessening your 
 authority, which being thus established, will always be sacred 
 to him, and prove as irresistible as the principles of his na- 
 ture." 
 
 " In all the whole business of education, there is nothing 
 like to be less hearkened to, or harder to be well observed, 
 than what I am now going to say ; and that is, that children 
 should from then- first beginning to talk, have some discreet, 
 sober, nay wise person about them, whose care it should be to 
 fashion them aright ; and he who procures his child a mind 
 tempered to virtue and usefulness, and adorned with good 
 breeding, makes a better purchase for him, than if he laid out 
 the money for an addition of more earth to his former acres. 
 It is bad husbandry to make his fortune rich, and his mind 
 poor. As the father's example must teach the child respect 
 for his tutor, so the tutor's example must lead the child into 
 those actions he would have him do. It will be to no purpose 
 for the tutor to talk of the restraint of the passions, whilst any 
 
351 
 
 of his own are let loose, and he will in vain endeavour to re- 
 form any vice or indecency in his pupil, which he allows in 
 himself. His practice must not cross his precepts, for ill 
 patterns are sure to be followed more than good rules." 
 
 " A governor should teach his scholar to guess at, and be- 
 ware of the designs of men he hath to do with, neither with 
 too much suspicion, nor too much confidence; but as the 
 young man is by nature most inclined to either side, rectify 
 him and bend him the other way. The only fence against the 
 world is a thorough knowledge of it, into which he should be 
 entered by degrees as he can bear it, and the earlier the bet- 
 ter, so he be in safe and skilful hands to guide him. The 
 scene should be gently opened, and his entrance made step 
 by step, and the dangers pointed out that attend him from the 
 several degrees, tempers, designs, and clubs of men. He 
 should be prepared to be shocked by some, and caressed by 
 others ; warned who are like to oppose, who to mislead, who 
 to undermine him, and who to serve him. He should be in- 
 structed how to know and to appreciate men, where he should 
 let them see, and when dissemble the knowledge of them, 
 their aims, and workings. And if he be too forward to ven- 
 ture upon his own strength and skill, the perplexity and trouble 
 of a misadventure now and then, that reaches not his inno- 
 cence, his health, or reputation, may not be an ill way to teach 
 him more caution. Thus, by safe and insensible degrees, he 
 will pass from a boy to a man, which is the most hazardous 
 passage in life. A young man should therefore be carefully 
 handed over it, and not abandoned at once to the world, and 
 so find it quite another thing from what he had been taught 
 to expect. The longer he is kept hood-winked, the less he 
 will see when he comes abroad into open daylight ; and an old 
 boy at his first appearance, with all the gravity of his ivy bush 
 about him, is sure to draw on him the eyes and chirpings of 
 the whole town volery, amongst which there will not be want- 
 
352 
 
 Sng some birds of prey, that will presently be on the wing for 
 him." 
 
 " Young men so hood-winked are easily persuaded by other 
 kind of tutors, which they are sure to meet with, that the dis- 
 cipline they were kept under, was but the restraint of child- 
 hood, and that the freedom belonging to men, is to take a full 
 swing of the pleasures hitherto forbidden them. Thus a 
 young novice is induced to court credit and manliness, by run- 
 ning counter to all the rules of virtue, which have been 
 preached to him by his tutor, and discovers too late, that those 
 who have persuaded him to throw off the restraints of mora- 
 lity, which they call being governed by others, do it only, that 
 they may have the government of him themselves, and use 
 him to their own advantage. The shewing him the world as 
 really it is, before he comes wholly into it, is one of the best 
 means, I think, to prevent this mischief. He should be told 
 the arts they use, the trains they lay, and now and then have 
 set before him the tragical or ridiculous examples of those 
 who are ruined, or being ruined this way ; and such examples 
 of disgrace, diseases, beggary, and shame, brought upon hope- 
 ful young men by the infamous arts of those, who make it 
 their business to corrupt, must be the most effectual land- 
 marks to warn him of danger." 
 
353 
 
 RECAPITULATION. 
 
 HAVING examined the several component parts of Man, as 
 far as the object we had in view required, we will now take a 
 general survey of him, and so terminate our labours. 
 
 He is composed of body and mind ; the body having senses 
 and sensation ; the mind, understanding, sensibility, and voli- 
 tion. 
 
 He has excitements to urge him to the use of his several 
 faculties. 
 
 Pleasure and Pain, Self-love, 
 
 Desire or Volition, Social Love, 
 
 Love and Hatred, ^ Sympathy, 
 
 Hope and Fear, Conscience, 
 
 Desire of Reward and Fear of Punishment. 
 Desire of Praise and Fear of Blame. 
 
 Principal directing dispositions, the immediate, or more or 
 less remote origin of most of his propensities both good and 
 bad. 
 
 Desire of Happiness, Desire of Wealth, 
 
 Desire of Ease, Pride, 
 
 Ambition, Vanity, 
 
 Desire of Pleasure, Desire of Change, 
 
 Desire of Independence, Desire of Novelty, 
 Desire of Power, Curiosity, 
 
 Desire of Occupation. 
 
 A native character, being of a sanguine or phlegmatic tem- 
 perament, and of an easy or difficult temper. 
 
 Primary dispositions that betray themselves at the dawn of 
 his reason, he being either 
 
354 
 
 Active or Indolent, 
 
 Patient or Impatient, Docile or Obstinate, 
 
 Contented or Discontented, Reserved or Unreserved, 
 Courageous or Fearful, Decisive or Indecisive, 
 
 Bold or Timid, Attentive or Inattentive. 
 
 He is disposed to Love and Hate, also to be 
 
 Angry, Forgiving, Jealous, 
 
 Resentful, Grateful, Envious. 
 
 He has reason, experience, and example, to enable him 
 more readily and confidently to regulate his several propen- 
 sities, and to determine his proper line of conduct in life. 
 
 Habit to acquire a relish for the practice of his numerous 
 moral duties, and also imperceptibly to lessen the sense of 
 those evils from which he cannot escape. 
 
 We find him in some things fettered by the law of insur- 
 mountable necessity, or fatality, and in others left a free agent, 
 and thus some of his actions are voluntary, some involuntary. 
 
 Subjected to human power, he is commonly left, more or 
 less, at liberty, but liable to be compelled to remain in con- 
 finement, or to suffer bodily pain, or death; or to be re- 
 strained from indulging his inclinations : upon all which occa- 
 sions, he is under the arbitrary necessity of submission. But 
 no human power can directly compel him to action, that can 
 be done only indirectly by the agency of fear. 
 
 He is born with a certain constitution both of mind and 
 body, which are more or less injured, or brought to a greater 
 or less degree of perfection, by being judiciously or injudi- 
 ciously managed. 
 
 A good education consists in a combination of good habits, 
 tending to bring the powers both of the mind and body, into 
 that healthy and sound state, as shall most effectually qualify 
 them, properly to perform their several functions throughout 
 life. 
 
355 
 
 Nature most clearly manifests her intention, that we should 
 partake of, but not abuse her very various bounties ; for excess 
 and want both produce, though in diametrically opposite ways, 
 sickness, vice, and consequent misery ; whereas, a wholesome 
 variety of pleasures, enjoyed with moderation, serve to promote 
 health, cheerfulness, and content, and to encourage us to per- 
 severe in the practice of virtue. Uneasiness it is, that the 
 most frequently causes us to be restless and eager of change. 
 
 But in what manner a creature constituted like man, could 
 be altogether the most successfully educated, seems to be a 
 question likely to divide the opinions of mankind, as long as it 
 shall remain impracticable to trace moral effects indubitably 
 to their proper causes. However, though we cannot trace 
 them indubitably, yet we may, we imagine, very satisfactorily 
 do so, by the means of continual experience, for the most pre- 
 ferable mode of educating man, must necessarily be that, which 
 upon the whole, is found to be productive of the greatest de- 
 gree of virtue, health, and useful information, and consequently 
 of the most general happiness. Man cannot long be truly 
 virtuous, wise, healthy, and happy, but by conforming himself 
 to the laws of nature, since nature it is, and not education, that 
 has given him those faculties and feelings he has, to act and 
 to enjoy life. 
 
 But to conclude, the peculiar constitution of each individual, 
 may be more or less perfected by education, but cannot be 
 essentially changed by it, indeed, so far from being essen- 
 tially changed by it, the constitution of his body, as well as 
 of his mind continually, we believe, determines the general 
 effects direct management, and likewise casual circumstances, 
 produce upon both his Moral and Intellectual Character. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 u ^ 
 
 < 
 
 ITV 
 
J. M'Creery, Tooks-Court, 
 Chancery-Lane, London. 
 
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