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ELEMENTS
OF
MORAL SCIENCE.
ELEMENTS
OF
MORAL SCIENCE
BY JAMES BEATTIE, LL. D.
PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY AND LOGIC IN THE MARISCHAL COLLEGE, AND UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. IL
THE. THIRD EDITIOX.
TO WHICH IS XOW ADDED, A COMPLETE IXDEX.
EDINBURGH;
PRINTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY,
AND JOHN' FAIRBAIRy, (Successor to Mr Creech), EDINBURGH;
4ND T. CADELL AXD W. DAVIES, LONDOX.
1817.
CONTENTS
OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
Page
TART II.— ECONOMICS 1
Relat'ton of Hitshand and V/ife, — Parent and CMld^ — Muster and Servant. Of Slavery, — part'icidarly iJiat of the Negroes i b .
PART III.— POLITICS 75
CHAP. I. OF THE GEXERAL XATURE OF LAW... 76
CHAP. II. OF THE ORIGIN AND NATURE OF CIVIL
GO V ERXMENT 1 4)7
Sect. 1. Origin of Government 149
2. OJ' Democracy and Aristocracy 1 78
3. Of Despotism 19G
4. Of Monarchy., and the British Constitu-
tion 199
PART IV.— LOGIC 244
CHAP. I. RHETORIC 243
Sect. \. Tropes and Figures ib.
2. Of a Sentence 271
8. Of Style in general 284
4. Of Prose Style, Historical, Common, Rhe-
torical, and Philosophical 294
5. Of the general nature of Poetry 338
CHAP. II. REMARKS ON EVIDENCE 38!?
ELEMENTS
OF
MORAL SCIENCE.
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
PART SECOND.
OF ECONOMICS.
574. We are now to consider human beings as members of a family, which is the foundation of all civil society, and comprehends the three relations of husband and wife, parent and child, master and servant. The duties belonging to these relations are so well, and so generally un- derstood, that they need not be here specified ; but connected with them are some controverted points, whereof I shall attempt a brief examination.— Among the inferior animals, the union of the sexes is temporary and casual j the passions that prompt
VOL, II, A
^ ELEMENTS OF PART II.
to it being periodical, and the young soon able to provide for themselves. But human infants being, of all animals, the most helpless, stand most in need of education and parental care. For man, in his conduct, is guided, not by unerring instinct, as the brutes are, but by his own reason ; which, if well cultivated, will lead him right, but if neglected or perverted, may lead him wrong.
515. Of all this, man, being by nature compas- sionate, as well as endowed with reason, reflection, and foresight, can hardly fail to be sensible. It is therefore natural that he, even in savage life, should have a certain degree of attachment to his child, and its mother, and do what he can to assist and defend them. Hence, it seems reasonable to sup. pose, that marriage, under one form or other, would take place, even where not many laws had been established with regard to it: and this is in fact the case. Exceptions may perhaps be found, among the worst sort of savages : but those are not considerable enough to affect the present argument. In civilized nations, the matrimonial union must appear a matter of very great importance ; being, indeed, the ground-work, not only of all decency and domestic virtue, but of all good government and regular society. Were we to hear of a nation in which there is no such thing as marriage, we should pronounce that nation to be in a state of the grossest barbarity.
576. The principles of this union may be re- duced to five : first, that tendency, which belongs
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 3
to animal nature in general, towards the continua- tion of the species : secondly, that love or esteem, which arises from the vievy of good qualities in an- other : thirdly, benevolence or friendship proceed- ing from this love : fourthly, a natural affection to children : and, lastly, a regard to one's own hap- piness. As these principles are natural, and among mankind universal, and tend to produce this union, and actually have produced it in all ages, we must believe it to be the intention of Providence, that they should produce it : which will be still more evident to him who considers the peculiar and very different characters, whereby nature has discrimin- ated the two sexes; and which, even in the amuse- ments of male and female children, begin very early to distinguish themselves. The ends of this union are three* By means of it, Providence intended, first, that the human race should be continued, in a way not only consistent with, but conducive to, virtue, decency, and good government : secondly, to provide for the education of children : and, thirdly, to promote the happiness of the married persons.
577. It has been made a question, whether poly- gamy be naturally unlawful. Among christians, it cannot be lawful ; because our religon forbids it : but to the ancient Jews and patriarchs, it was not forbidden ; and seems, in some cases, to have been permitted, as a punishment for their intemperance, in desiring it. ,That it is not according to the ana-
4 ELEMENTS OF PART II.
logy of nature, may be proved, by this argument. The number of males that are born, is so nearly equal to that of females, (being as twenty to nineteen, according to some computations, or as fourteen to thirteen, according to others), that, if all men and women were married, there would not be more than one man to each woman, and one •woman to each man. That more males should be born than females, is wisely ordered by Providence; men being exposed to many dangers, in war, for example, and at sea, from which the condition of the female is, in a great measure, exempted. — By some travellers, who affect to apologize for the po- lygamy allowed by the law of Mahomet, it has been said, that, in certain eastern nations, particularly in Arabia, the country of that impostor, there are three or four females born for one male. When this is clearly ascertained, (for as yet it seems to be doubtful), I shall admit, that, in those parts of the world, polygamy is not so inconvenient or so un- natural, as it undisputably would be in these.
578. It is inconsistent with that affection which married persons owe to each other. Where it pre- vails, the husband, whatever be the number of his wives, has commonly but one favourite wife ; and the consequence is, that she is hated by all the rest, and he, on her account : in other respects, it is fatal to the peace of families. In Turkey, a hus- band must exercise over his household a sort of tyrannical authority j so that his wives are really
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. O
his slaves j which destroys that friendship and mu- tual confidence, so essential to the happiness of the married state. To which we may add, that the natural affection between parents and children must be very much weakened by polyLamy, and conse- quently, the right education of children neglected. And a number of children of the same father, by different living mothers, could hardly fail to be- come the rivals and enemies of one another.
579. That marriage may be a determinate object of law, it must, like every other express contract, be ratified by some form ; the neglect of which is to be considered as illegal, but not as sufficient in all cases to nullify the marrige : much, however, in regard to this matter, will depend on human laws. That the matrimonial union should be for life, appears from the very nature of friendship, which men never enter into with a view that it shall last only for a limited time. And the education of children requires, that the father and mother should be united for life. If this were not the case, marriages would be contracted with such precipi- tancy, as to preclude the hope of connubial hap- piness J and the profligacy of individuals would in- troduce endless confusion into human affairs, and entirely destroy the attachments of kindred, and all the amiable virtues thence arising.
580. Plato is whimsical on this subject, as on many others. He thinks, that parents should not be entrusted with the bringing up, or with the
b ELEMENTS OF PART IF.
education of their children, Mhich ought, in his opinion, to be provided for and conducted by the state ; and that children should never know who their parents are, but consider themselves as the sons and daughters of the republic. For he sup- poses, iirst, that parents become avaricious, in or- der to enrich their children : secondly, that per- sons united by the ties of blood are apt to conspire against the state, and promote rebellious insurrec- tion : and, thirdly, that parents ruin their children by immoderate fondness. The arguments are as weals, as the scheme is unnatural ; though it must be allowed, that there is a defect in the policy of a country, in which the law takes no notice of the conduct of parents with respect to the education of their children.
.'TSl. There are not many instances of children ruined by parental fondness merely : a little know- ledge of the world commonly vrears oft' the bad ef- i'ects of that fondness where it has been excessive. And if at their birth children were sent to a public seminary, and there brought up, ignorant of their parents, it is not unlikely that some of them might be ruined by bad example, or by the indiscretion or indifterenoe of nurses and teachers ; for that all persons should act well, who act by public autho- rity, is not to be expected. Besides, family at- tachments encourage industry, which ought to be encouraged ; but do not often incline parents to jivaricc, which is well known to be most prevalent
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 7
in those who have no families ; and conspiracies against the state are more remarkable for breeding dissension among relations, than for arising from their unanimity. But it is still more to the present purpose to remark, that the virtues one may ac- quire in domestic life ; the love that one bears to parents, brethren, and kindred, and the many kind affections thence resulting, are among the most amiable qualities of our nature ; and have a happy effect in producing a sense of honour, gentleness of manners, and tenderness of heart, which great- ly promote the improvement of the mind, and the happiness of society, and which, under a scheme like Plato's, could hardly exist.
582. From these reasonings may be deduced the following definition of marriage. It is a strict and intimate union, for life, founded on mutual esteem, of one man and one woman, in one family, for the purpose of having children, educating them, and promoting the happiness of one another. This union being the foundation of regular so- ciety, all persons are bound in conscience to pay great regard to it ; to account its laws sacred ; and to do nothing to lessen it in the opinion of the public, or of individuals j remembering that it has been in the world from the beginning, and is of divine institution. But all persons are not obliged to enter into this estate. Want of prudence or of inclination, untowardly dispositions, immature age, and the indispensable duties annexed to certain
5 ELEMENTS OP PART II.
employments that one may be engaged in, may make it in particular cases improper. These are called natural impediments. Others there are of a moral kind, which render it unlawful.
583. The first is a prior contract. He who has married to two wives, both living, is by the laws of all christian countries punishable ; and in some, particularly Sweden, is punished with death. He ■who marries one woman, after having given an- other reason to believe that he would marry this other, is guilty of a crime, which, though the law should not reach it, ought to lie very heavy on his conscience. Too near a degree of consanguinity is another moral impediment. A line of kindred is either direct or collateral. The direct line com- prehends grandfathers, fathers, children, grand- children, Sec. ; and in this line all marriages are accounted unnatural, and are accordingly forbid- den by the laws of almost all nations. In the col- lateral line are brothers and sisters, and their de- scendants ; among whom, by the laws of the Jews, the old Romans, and all protestant countries, all marriages are forbidden within the fourth degree, that is, between persons more nearly related than cousins-german.
584. The canon law, that is, (he ecclesiastical law of the church of Rome, does also prohibit marriages within what is called the fourth degree : but their way of considering this matter is not the same with ours j for cousins-german, or even s.e-.
ART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 9
cond cousins, of the Romish religion, cannot marry without a warrant from the pope. He indeed was wont to reserve to himself the privilege of deter- mining what marriages are within the forbidden degrees, and what are not ; and thus he has had it in his power, especially in former times, to gra- tify those princes who were tired of their wives, by declaring their marriage unlawful from the first, and consequently null ; and to gratify others, by allowing them, for reasons of policy or interest, to form connections which among us could not be tolerated. It is not long since he granted a dis- pensation, whereby a queen of Portugal was mar- ried to her nephew.
585. It is not easy, nor perhaps possible, to as- certain, on philosophical principles, that precise boundary, in the collateral line of kindred, be- yond which marriages are lawful, and within which they are incestuous. Our own law is in this re- spect very reasonable. And it is better to rest this matter on positive laws, than to attempt to settle it by general reasoning. That men should not be allowed to marry very near relations, an- swers many excellent purposes, and this in parti- cular, (for the rest I do not care to specify) that it extends the sphere of kindred and friendship,
>nd so connects society more closely together.
586. The superiority of the husband to the wife is so generally acknovvledged, that it must be ow- ing to some good and permanent cause : and that
10 ELEMENTS OF PART 11.
it was SO from the beginning, and so appointed of God, we believe on the authority of scripture. Considering the matter abstractly, we should say, that in the management of a family, that person ought to be superior, who has most prudence and virtue. But the exact degree of virtue and pru- dence it might be difficult to ascertain ; and con- troversies on this subject between husband and wife would have disagreeable consequences. And therefore the superiority of one sex ought to be fixed by law as well as by custom. Supposing the two sexes equal in virtue and understanding, which, after making allowance for diversity of education, we should perhaps find to be the case, it is still right that the man should have the su- periority. For his bodily strength, and his in- capacity for some domestic duties, the nursing of children for example, not to mention other cir- cumstances of a more delicate nature, make him better qualified, and leave him more at leisure, to guard the family from injury, and 'superintend all the members of it. However, the more the sexes approach to equality, the more will society be civi- lized. Savages are tyrannical to their women. In polite nations it is otherwise ; and the superiority vested by law in the men is compensated to the women, by that superior complaisance which is paid them by every man who aspires to elegance of manners.
587. The duties of the married persons with
PART Hi MORAL SCIENCE. 11
respect to each other are so well known, that it is unnecessary to give a detail of them in this place. They may all be reduced to those of -mutual love, and mutual fidelity ; the violation of which is ia the wife and the husband equally immoral, though perhaps in a political view not equally ruinous. Parental authority is founded, first, in the need that children have of assistance and direction ; se- condly, in parental love, disposing fathers and mothers to assist and direct them ; and, thirdly, in filial piety, disposing children to love, honour, and obey their parents. In the father's absence, the mother's authority may be supposed to be equal to his, because it has the same foundation ; but when he is present, his authority must be superior, because all the family is subject to him. That mothers, when able, ought to nurse their oflTspring, is generally acknowledged, and might be proved, from many considerations, both moral and phy- sical. The mother is by nature supplied with the means of yielding her infant that sort of nourish- ment which is best for it ; the infant, by natural instinct, craves this nourishment ; and mothers are inclined, both by instinct and by reason, to give it, and find exquisite delight in doing so. To which we may add, that not to comply with nature in this particular, is often attended with danger- ous, and sometimes fatal consequences to both mother and child.
588. Parents owe their children the most tender
12 ELEMENTS OF PART II,
affection, which must neither degenerate into in- discreet fondness, nor be exercised with any partia- lity, except what may be due to superior merit. They ought, as far as is in their power, to provide for their children the necessaries of life, and such of its ornaments as befit their condition ; but are not obliged to endow them so liberally as to en- courage vice or idleness. They are bound by every tie of love, honour, and duty, to give them such education as may qualify them for acting their part aright in this world, and preparing them- selves for the next : and, for this purpose, to em- ploy all the proper means of instruction ; moral and religious precept ; prudent advice ; good ex- ample ; praise, in order to encourage ; and re- proof, and, if necessary, even correction, in order to reform. On education there are many books that deserve attentive perusal, but not many that ought to be implicitly followed : for too many writers on this subject seem more anxious to esta- blish paradoxes, and fashion the young mind into a similarity to their own, than to give general pre- cepts for training up good christians, and useful members of society. The topic being far too ex- tensive for this place, I shall only make two or three remarks on it ; in order that, by pointing out a few examples, not universally attended to, of improper management in the business of educa- tion, I may engage my hearers to think on the sub- ject, and to think for themselves,
Fart ii. moral sciencb. 13
589. The present plan of education, as it is commonly (I do not say universally) conducted, seems to proceed on a supposition, that piety and virtue are not indispensable parts of duty ; for that the figure a man makes, and the gratifications he obtains, in this world, are of more value to him, than eternal happiness in the world to come. Ac- cordingly, some pains are taken to cultivate his understanding, to adorn his outside, and to fit him for the common arts of life ; but the improvement of his heart, and the regulations of his passions and principles, are, comparatively speaking, but little minded. Children are too often treated rather as play- things than as immortal beings, who have a difficult part to act here, and a strict account to render hereafter. A man indeed is not a moral agent till he attain the use of reason. But before he can compare things together so as to draw in- ferences, he may contract habits of obstinacy or obedience, fretfulness or contentment, good or ill nature, and even of right or wrong opinion, which shall adhere to him through life, and produce im- portant consequences. Therefore, let no one think that moral discipline, in the beginning of life, is of little moment : it can hardly begin too early.
590. Not few are the methods taken, even by parents who mean well, which would seem to teach children vice rather than virtue, and to create and cherish evil passions, instead of preventing
14f ELEMENTS OP • PART 11^
them. They are taught to threaten, and even beat those by whom they think themselves injured, or to beat other persons and things in their stead ; and thus learn to be peevish and revengeful : and thus too their notions of merit and demerit are confounded ; for how is it possible for them to learn any thing good, from seeing a stranger threat- ened, a dog punished, or a footstool beaten, for a fault committed by themselves, or by the nurse ! —Their good behaviour is sometimes rewarded so absurdly, as to hurt their health, and teach them gluttony or sensuality at the same time. — They are frequently taught to consider strangers, espe- cially those who are old and ill- dressed, as fright- ful beings, by whom they are in danger of being taken away : and thus they learn cowardice, dis- like to strangers, disrespect to old age, and an ab- horrence of poverty and misfortune, as if these rendered a man the object, not of pity, but of de- testation.
591. They are from tihie to time entertained with stories of ghosts and other terrible things, ■which, they are told, appear in the dark ; and lience receive impressions of terror which they find it difficult to get the better of, even when they come to be men. They are fiattered, on account of their finery, and so become fond of a gaudy outside ; a passion which, if they do not subdue it, will go near to make them ridiculous. When they being to speak, they are encouraged to speak
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. ^S
a great deal ; and thus learn petulance, and want of respect to their superiors. They are sometimes threatened with dreadful punishments, and in the most boisterous language; and by this example of ferocity and passion are taught to be fierce and passionate. At other times they are, without suf^ ficient reason, extravagantly caressed, which, while it enervates their minds, conveys a notion, that their parents act capriciously, and that they may do so too. The slightest foibles and greatest faults are often blamed with equal severity ; and the most trifling accomplishment more warmly commended than a generous sentiment, or virtuous action. You may have heard them blamed more bitterly for making an aukward bow, than for telling a lie ; and praised more for their dancing, than for alacrity in obeying their parents. Does not this absurd conduct tend to poison their prin- ciples, deprave their judgment, and even pervert their conscience ?
592. What can excuse the parent, or teacher, who chastises a child for a natural weakness of memory, or slowness of apprehension ? Would it not be equally reasonable to punish him, because Providence has given him a puny frame of body, or sickly constitution ? And what notions of rec- titude is a child likely to form, from seeing cruel- ty where there ought to be lenity, and from being punished because he cannot do what is. above his strength ? Many more instances might be givea
16 ELEMENTS OF PART II.
of parents and teachers, who really mean no harm, inuring children to vicious habits, and teaching them to form licentious opinions, in matters which the world in general considers as of little moment. But very trivial matters call forth the passions of a child ; and whatever does so is of serious im- portance, because it must give rise to virtuous or to criminal practice, and tend to form habits either good or evil.
593. Let children be taught, as far as their ca* pacity will admit, to form right opinions ; to con- sider clothes, for example, as intended more for use than for ornament ; and food, as what is neces- sary to life and health, but must not be pervert- ed to the purposes of sensuality. Let them be in- formed, that, by nature, all men are equal ; a lesson which they will easily learn, as pride is one of those passions which they seldom or never acquire of them- selves, (§ 305) ; and let them be made to under- stand, that a man is contemptible, not because he is old, or ugly, or poor, but because he is of inde- cent behaviour. Let them be accustomed to re- verence old age ; and for their parents to entertain the most profound respect, without repining at their commands, or venturing on any pretence to dispute their opinion. This will make them affectionate and dutiful ; for the more they respect a parent or teacher, the more they will love him j this will also teach them to be modest, obedient, and docile ; and soon impress them with a sense of their being
PART II. Moral science. if
subject to moral discipline, and accountable for their conduct.
594. When vices are practised, or without dis- approbation named, in the presence of children ; when a parent or teacher punishes at one time a fault which he overlooks at another, or neglects to take cognizance of a transgression whereof the child knows that he cannot be ignorant, these are so many lessons of immorality, which cannot fail to corrupt a young mind. To correct a child when one is in a passion, gives him an example of two vices at once, rage and revenge : for all correctiom of this kind is likely to be, and to the sufferer will appear to be, excessive ; and seem to have, and perhaps really has, something vindictive in it. To bodily punishment we are not to have recourse till all other means of reformation have been attempt- ed in vain ; and let this last remedy be applied, if at all applied, with temper and solemnity, that the child may see we are driven to it against our will,, from a regard to our duty and his good. Honour and shame are, as formerly observed, much more liberal motives 5 and experience proves, that they may for the most part, if not always, be more ef- fectual. These indeed may be employed, with good success, through the whole of life, as a pre- servative from vice, and a curb to every inordinate passion.
595. Whether a public school, or the privacy of domestic education, be preferable, has long been.
VOL. II. B
t^ ELEMENTS OF PART II.
matter of controversy, and is not likely to be soon determined. Experience will not settle the point; for men of every character, and of all degrees of genius and literature, have been formed both by the one method and by the other. Supposing the teachers in both equally conscientious, and of equal ability, one might say, perhaps, that the former is the best scene of discipline for this world, and the latter for that which is to come. In the former there are, no doubt, superior opportunities of ac- quiring habits of activity, a free and manly beha- viour, with knowledge of the world and of human nature, as well as of making valuable connections in the way of acquaintance and friendship. But in the latter may be expected more modesty and in- nocence, stricter rectitude of principle, fewer temp- tations to irregularity, and less danger from bad company.
596. Perhaps, if the two methods were to be united ; if they who frequent public schools were also to be continually under the eye of an attentive parent or tutor (which, comparatively speaking, could happen but to few), the objection to those crowded seminaries might in part be obviated. But without such private inspection, great schools, es- pecially in great towns, would seem to be extreme- ly dangerous. Horace informs us (sat. i. 6), that lie was educated in a way similar to what is here proposed ; that his father, though by no means wealthy, brought him from his native village to
i^ART II. MORAL SCIENCE.
19
Rome, and put him under the best masters ; but did himself carefully inspect every part of his son's education and behaviour. What the poet has writ- ten on this subject merits particular attention, and does honour both to his father's worth and wis- dom, and to his own gratitude and filial piety. A more amiable picture of a father and a son is hard- Jy to be met with in pagan antiquity.
597. On the duties of children to their parents it is unnecessary to expatiate, they being in chris- tian nations universally known. Next to that which is due to the Creator, children owe their parents the highest love, reverence, and gratitude ; for to a good parent, in all ordinary cases, his child is more obliged than to any other fellow-creature. Children ought, as far as it is necessary and they are able, to support their parents, and to bear with their infirmities, do every thing in their power to make their lives comfortable, receive their advice with respectful attention, and obey all their lawful commands. It does not, however, appear, that in things so intimately connected vvith the happiness of life, as marriage, and the choice of an employment^ parents have any right to force the inclinations of their children. Their best advice^ in these and all other matters, parents are bound to give them; but in these their temporal welfare may be so deeply interested, that compulsion would be cruelty ; nay, such compulsion, by irritating their passions, and unsettling their minds, might endanger their hap.
so
ELEMENTS OF PART H»
piness in a future life, as well as destroy it in this. It is indeed true, that habits of long acquaintance will sometimes overcome dislike ; but it is no less true, that some things and persons are so disagree- able, that we dislike them the more the longer we know them, and the more intimately we are con- nected with them. In the affair of marriage, the utmost a parent can claim is the validity of a nega- tive ; and in many cases even that may be disput- able. Nature intended mutual affection to be the principal motive to this union ; and therefore, mar- riage contracted from a different motive, where that is wanting, such as ambition, the love of money, or even implicit obedience to parents, is unnatural, and of course unlawful.
.598. The relation of master and servant is founded on a contract or agreement, and is in- tended for the mutual benefit of the contracting parties. The peculiar duties belonging to it are settled either by the terms of the agreement, or by the common rules of equity, arnl the general prac- tice of the country. The origin and reasonable- ness of this relation may be thus explained. Hu- man creatures, though born equal in many re- spects, are, in respect of abilities and character, very unequal : and if, naturally, one man is enter- prising, prudent, and active, and another irreso- lute, imprudent, and indolent, it will happen in process of time, supposing (what we call) Fortune eq.ually favourable to all, that one shall acquire
4*
1
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 31
much property without doing injury, and another little without suffering any. The former will of course have more things to mind than the latter, and will be disposed to hire persons to assist and serve him 5 and they who have little or no proper- ty will be willing to be hired for that purpose. And if the master be kind, and the servant faithftd, that is, if each do what he ought to do, they will both be happier in this connection than they could have been out of it.
599. Besides, to make society comfortable, there must be established in it a number of employments, which cannot all be equally honourable, or attend- ed with equal advantage. The richer sort, having the means of a better education, are better quali- fied than the poorer for the higher offices ; and the poor, conscious of their inability, will have no other ambition than to gain a competence in tliose walks of life to which they have been from infancy ac- customed : and thus, all the necessary professions will be filled with persons properly qualified for them, and the business of social life will go on with regularity and expedition. Far be it from me to insinuate, that low fortune is always the effect of mean parts, or a high one of the contrary. I only say, that the natural varieties of human character would in time produce varieties of condition, in the ordinary course of things. But let it ever be re- membered, that the affairs of this world are go- verned by Providence, who, for the wisest and
22 ELEMENTS OF PART II.
most beneficent piiropses, often brings down one, and sets up anoLher, by such means as may to us appear inadequate and extraordinary. Hence, let the great learn moderation, and the lowly content. All are equally the care of Providence ; and in every station a contented mind is happy. See § 152.
600. One cannot live without the necessaries of life, but he who has them may live without a serv- ant ; so that a master is more necessary to a serv- ant, than a servant is to a master. It is therefore reasonable that the servant should acknowledge the master's superiority, and, over and above the stipulated service, pay him a degree of attention, which the servant is not entitled to expect in re- turn. The master, on the other hand, ought to consider the dependent condition of his humble as- sociate, and treat him with that lenity which a ge- nerous mind naturally exercises towards those who have been unfortunate or unsuccessful. In short, it is incumbent on each to do to the other what he could reasonably wish the other to do to him, if they were to exchange conditions. If they observe this rule, their relation will be a blessing to both.
601. A severer kind of service called slavery,, has, I am sorry to say it, prevailed in many na- tions, and in many does still prevail; but its forms are so various, that one cannot express its general nature in a definition. Of that species of it which j]t is my design to gonsider, the follov.ing particu-
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 2S
lars will convey a pretty just idea. 1. In establish- ing this kind of service, the will of the master only is consulted, and no regard had to that of the slave. 2. No efforts of virtue or ability can ever change the slave's condition for the better, without the master's consent ; which in all cases he may re- fuse, without assigning any reason. 3. The master may correct his slave as severely, and in other re- spects use him as cruelly as he pleases, provided he do not deprive him of his limbs or life ; and in many countries even these are not protected, ex- cept by some trivial punishment or tine, which, it is well known, neither is, nor can be, any efJ'ectual restraint on the passions of a tyrannical and wealthy master. 4. The slave labours for his master's be- nefit only ; and in some parts of the world, can acquire little or nothing for himself, but what his master, if he pleases, may, without being obnoxi- ous to the law, contrive methods of taking from him. 5. The master buys a slave, and sells him with as little concern as we do an ox or piece of household stuff. 6. The children of slaves are born and bred in slavery, and their children, and all their posterity, for ever, unless it be the mas- ter's pleasure to give them liberty ; which he is seldom or never obliged to do, and which the laws of some countries will not, in certain cases, permit him to do. 7. The life or death of slaves, in the eyes of the slave-monger, is of no more value than the money for which they might have been sold :
24 ELEMENTS OF PART 11.
of their health and welfare in this wprld he proba- bly will, on his own account, take some care, but is not obliged to take much, and it is certain takes very little : their happiness or misery in the world to come, is a consideration in which he does not think himself interested at all.
602. After this account, which I believe is not exaggerated, it must be unnecessary to add, that slavery is inconsistent with the dearest and most essential rights of man's nature ; that it is detri- mental to virtue and industry ; that it hardens the heart to those tender sympathies which form the most lovely part of the human character ; that it involves the innocent in hopeless misery, in order to procure wealth and pleasure for the authors of that misery ; that it seeks to degrade into brutes, beings whom the Lord of heaven and earth endow- ed jvith rational souls, and created for immortality j in short, that it is utterly repugnant to every prin- ciple of reason, religion, humanity, and conscience. In protesting against such a practice, it is not easy to preserve that lenity of language, and coolness of argument which philosophy recommends : and one eminent author has not sought to preserve it, but explicitly declares, that he who can seriously argue in vindication of slavery, deservs no other answer than the stab of a poniard. I am not, however, so bloody-minded; and shall endeavour to justify what I have said by an appeal to the reason, rather thaii to the passions, of mankind.
PART II, MORAL SCIENCE, 25
. 603. To my shame and sorrow, and to the dis- grace of human nature, I must confess that slavery is of ancient date ; and that there are not many countries in the world, where, at one time or other, it has not prevailed. Among savages it probably took its rise, or among men half-civilized, who con- demned their captives to this condition ; and might be afterwards adopted, in the way of retaliation, by more enlightened societies. We find in the Old Testament, and in Homer, that in early times it was customary to carry away into captivity, and sell for slaves, those who had been made prisoners of war. Those slaves, however, were not always barbarously treated in other respects, but, on the contrary, often became the favourites of their mas- ters. Yet this was not universal. In Athens and Rome, in times somewhat later, slaves might lead lives that were not uncomfortable ; but at Sparta they were treated with a degree of rigour that is hardly conceivable, although to them, as their hus- bandmen and artificers, their proud and idle mas- ters were indebted for all the necessaries of life. The Lacedemonian youth, trained up in the prac- tice of deceiving and butchering those poor men, were from time to time let loose upon them, in or- der to shew their proficiency in stratagem and mas- sacre. And once, without any provocation, and merely for their own amusement, we are told that they murdered three thousand in one night, not only with the connivance of law, but by its avowed
ii6 ELEMENTS OF PART II.
permission. Such, in promoting the happiness of one part of society, and the virtue of another, are the effects of slavery !
604. In arguing against slavery, it may perhaps be thought that I dispute without an opponent. But this is not the case. I have met with a native of Great Britain, a man of learning and some rank, who seriously maintained in my hearing, that the lower orders of people in this country ought still to be, as they once were, slaves, and toJbe annex- ed, as in some miserable parts of Europe they still are, to the soil, and bought and sold along with it. Many men, who, both as philosophers and as po- liticians, were pleased to think themselves wonder- fully wise, have laboured to prove the lawfulness and expediency of this practice ; which every per- son, worthy of the honour of being born a Briton, holds in utter abomination. I shall briefly examine their pleas, with regard, first, to slavery in general: and, secondly, to that of the African negroes in particular,
605. At the head of ray opponents I must place Aristotle, who, in his first book of politics, argues thus: — ' That men of great bodily strength, and de- ' ficient in mental abilities, are by nature destined ' to serve, and those of better capacity to com-
* mand ; that the Greeks, and some of the adjoin- ' ing nations, being superior in genius, have a na-
* tural right to empire ; and that the rest of man-
* kind appear, from their innate stupidity, to be
Part ir. moral science. 27
* by nature intended for slavery and toil.* Every body sees the absurdity of this reasoning, and that it is founded in national prejudice, and want of knowledge of mankind. The Greeks are not now a nation of either philosophers or heroes : in spite of the advantages they derive from climate and soil, and a happy temperament of bodily constitu. tlon, they are the ignorant and devoted slaves of Turkish tyranny ; while other nations, our own in particular, which Aristotle, no doubt, believed (if he ever heard of it) that nature had consigned f.o everlasting obscurity and servitude, have, in respect of genius, industry, fortitude, and the love of free- dom, become equal to the most accomplished of mankind. To infer, because a people is now bar- barous, that it never can be civilized, is not more wise, than to affirm, that an oak of ten inches long can never grow up into a tree, or that an infant can never become a man. But, whether ingenious or dull, learned or ignorant, clownish or polite, every innocent man, without exception, has as good a right to liberty as to life.
606. It has been said, that an institution so wide- Jy diffused as slavery, and so ancient, cannot be ei- ther unlawful or unnatural. This deserves no an- swer. Paganism and Mahometism have long been, and still are, the religion of many nations ; human sacrifices were once common in the north of Eu- rope, and in many other parts of the earth : and there are Indian tribes, who, in the spirit of savagq
28^ ELEMENTS OF PART If.
tfiumph, eat those enemies whom they take in battle. Does it follow that we may lawfully eat men, or offer them in sacrifice to idols ; that Ma- homet was a ture prophet j or that Jupiter and his Olympian rabble were the makers and governors of the universe ?
607. The Romans tolerated slavery ; and their laws give three accounts of it, which, as historical facts, may be true ; but, considered as arguments to justify the practice, are, every one of them, ab- surd. First, it is said, that prisoners of war may be enslaved rather than put to death. But the most that a conqueror can justly claim from his prisoners is a security that they will do him no hurt, which may be obtained, and in civilized na- tions is daily obtained, without either putting them to death, or enslaving them. To kill, even in war without necessity, is murder: to enslave can never be necessary, and therefore must always be unjust; for every generous mind considers slavery as worse than death ; and so in fact it is. Death affects the person only who dies, and who must soon die at any rate ; but slavery may extend its baleful influ- ence to the innocent children of the enslaved per- son, and even to their descendants.
60S. Where captives have been reserved for slavery, it is plain there could be no necessity for killing them ; and if it was not necessary to kill them, it was not lawful ; and a punishment, in it- self unlawful, can never be lawfully exchanged for
PART H. MORAL SCIENCE. 29
another punishment which is equally, or more than equally, severe. By the commission of crimes, a man may no doubt forfeit his liberty as well as life; which, however, is rwt slavery in the proper sensa of the word, because such forfeiture of freedom descends not to children : but, where there is no guilt, no punishment, not even the smallest, can be lawful. Now, in fighting for his country, or in self-defence, what crime does the soldier commit ? So far from committing any crime, it is universal- ly allowed that he does his duty : and is a man to be punished as a felon, or is he to be punished at all, for doing his duty ; that is, for doing what he would deserve punishment for neglecting to do ?
609. The civil law supposes, secondly, that a man may sell himself for a slave ; but this, as Mon- tesquieu observes, can hardly be ; for a sale implies a price, which he who consigns himself to slavery cannot receive, because the slave's property is sup- posed to be in the master's power. But might not a man sell himself for a price to be applied imme- diately for the payment of his debts, or in order to purchase some great good to another ; to save, for example, the life or the liberty of a parent ? This is possible, no doubt, and in some countries may have happened ; and this, in him who could make such a sacrifice, would be an act of great magna- nimity. But what could excuse the buyer, or ren- der a transaction lawful, by which so noble an eX'
so ELEMENTS OF PART II.
crtlon of human virtue would be subjected to a lasting and cruel punishment ?
610. Thirdly, the civil law supposes that a man may sell his children. But all human beings who have never injured society have an equal right to liberty ; so that parents can no more sell their children, than children can sell their parents. Sup- pose the father to sell them, or give them away, rather than to see them perish with hunger, yet still the person who received or bought them, would, if he made them slaves, be without excuse. I'or helpless persons in want have a right to be sup- ported by those who are not in want ; and the la- bour of a human creature is always of more value than his food and raiment, at least if he have strength to do the work of a slave : and if he be sickly as well as needy, he has a double claim to the compassion and gratuitous assistance of the ■wealthy.
611. It is impossible for a considerate and un- prejudiced mind to think of slavery without hor- ror. That a man, a rational and immortal being, should be treated on the same footing with a beast or piece of wood, and bought and sold, and entire- ly subjected to the will of another man, whose equal he is by nature, and whose superior he may be in virtue and understanding, and all for no crime, but merely because he was born in a certain country, or of certain parents, or because he differs from us
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 31
in the shape of his nose, the colour of his skin, or the size of his hps ; — if this be equitable, or excus- able, or pardonable, it is vain to talk any longer of the eternal distinctions of right and wrong, trutli and falsehood, good and evil.
612. So repugnant is slavery to the British ge- nius, that when, about two hundred years ago, a law was made in England condemning idle vaga- bonds to this condition, the spirit of the nation could not bear it ; and it was soon after repealed. And now every slave, of whatever colour, from the moment of his arrival in Great Britain, and as long as he remains in it, is a free man, and a British subject, whether baptized or not ; the law protects his person and his property ; he has no more to fear from his master than any other free servant has ; he cannot be bought or sold ; but if he has bound himself by contract to serve his mas- ter for a certain length of time, that contract, like those entered into by apprentices, and some other servants, wiil be valid. — I w-ish I were warranted to add, that the same regard is had to the rights of human nature in all the British dominions. But I must confess, w4th anguish of heart, that it is not so ; for that almost all the products of the West Indies, and some too of the East, are pro- cured for us, by the sweat, the tears, and the blood, of miserable slaves. And this leads me to consider, in the second place, the origin, law-
32 ELEMENTS OF PART II.
fulness, and expediency, of the slavery of the ne- groes.
613. In evincing the unlawfulness of slavery, and protesting against the cruelty of it, I must not be understood to blame every person who is, or may have been concerned in it. My censure nei- ther is, nor can be, levelled at any individuals, those excepted wlio are cruel and unjust to their slaves ; and that all such deserve censure, every lionest man will allow. The present race of Ame- rican and West-Indian planters I cannot blame for the existence of a commerce which was establish- ed before their grandfathers were born. I cannot blame them for possessing those estates which they have acquired by fair means ; or for not abolish- ing a traffic, which it is not in their power to abolish. Nor can I blame them for not giving liberty to their slaves, when I consider, that so many savage men, set free at once, might annul the property, and destroy the lives, of thousands of innocent persons, and perhaps involve the whole empire in confusion. The guilt of enslav- ing the negroes is to be imputed, not so much td individuals as to the ivhole community; those, bowever, excepted, who publicly condemn the practice, and would abolish it if they could. But lo expose it. in what I think its proper colours, is a duty which I owe to humanity and truth. Such attempts, though they cannot cure, may have al
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 33
tendency to alleviate, the evil ; and perhaps con- tribute something, however little, to its final abo- lition.
614. The Spaniards, having taken possession
of the West Indies, in the end of the fifteenth (Century, and being in great want of labourers to assist in cultivating their plantations, seized upon and enslaved such of the native Indians as came in their way ; but finding them an indolent and weakly race of men, and hearing that the negroes of Africa had more activity, they encouraged Por~ tuguese traders to bring them slaves from that country ; and the same policy was afterwards adopted by other European colonies, that settled beyond the Atlantic. This was the beginning of the African slave-trade, which has continued ever since, and has become so extensive, that into the British American, and our West Indian settle- ments alone, there are now imported annually from Africa, and sold, thousands of negroes ; MANY thousands certainly ; how many, I know not ; as the accounts I have received on this head are not consistent.
615. That many of these slaves come into the hands of good masters, and so lead lives that are not uncomfortable, I am very willing to believe : and it is well known, that those employed in do- mestic offices have not so much reason to com- plain as those who labour in the field ; and that, in some of our colonies, they are less rigorously
VOL II. c
34 ELEMENTS OF PART II.
used than in others. But it is in general true, and •is proved by unquestionable evidence, that the me- thods by wliich they are forced from their native land, the hardships they suffer at sea, the dread- ful punishments inflicted on them for slight of- fences, the excessive labour they are compelled to undergo, the scanty and unhealthy allotment that is given them of the necessaries of life, and the laws they are subject to, in some islands and pro- vinces, are shocking to relate, a-nd a disgrace to hu- man nature.* This, therefore, is a most infamous business ; and, though slavery cannot all at once be abolished, it ought to be, and may be, and probably will be, discontinued gradually. The bad policy and inhumanity of it were lately, t in a very solemn and public manner, proved by irre- sistible reasoning, in strains of elocution, and with a warmth of benevolence, that have done immor- tal honour to the names of Pitt, Fox, Wilber- force, Montagu, and Smith ; while, on the other side, nothing of the nature of argument was urged, that might not be resolved into a principle, which would vindicate half the wickedness of man- kind ; and which, if proposed in direct terms, every individual member of the illustrious assem-
* See all this proved unanswerably, and, alas ! by t09 wany facts, in An Abstract of the evidence delivered before a select committee of the house of commons^ in the years 1790 and 1791, London, printed 1791. f This written ill 1791.
FART ir« MORAL SCIENCE. 33
bly I allude to, would reject with abhorrence;— namely, that practices whereby money may be gained ought not to be discontinued.
616. The most intelligent writers on this sub- ject are of opinion, that, by our planters in the West Indies, free servants might be employed at less expence than slaves are ; of whom, in that part of the world, and in North America, there is reason to apprehend, that, in consequence of the tyranny under which they groan, many thou- sands perish every yearj over and above the num- ber that would die in that time in the ordinary course of nature. For, otherwise, there could not every year be a demand for so many thousands ^ as black men and women are imported promis- cuously ; and it is very much the planter's interest that they should marry, and have children. In this country no annual importation of free servants was ever found necessary ; because here, among people of almost every rank, those who are born are nearly equaly in number to those who die^ And so it would be in our colonies, if there the slaves were to be treated as free servants ; and if masters did not, as it is well known they do,- keep theni in utter ignorance of moral and religious duty, and, by example and connivance, encourage thenx to wallow in beastly sensuality. Let us now ex- amine the apologies, which those who think their interest promoted by the slavery of negroes, do
36. ELEMENTS OF
PART iJ.
commonly make for it. They may, I think, be reduced to five.
617. First, It is said, ' That the Africans,
* whom our planters, and their emissaries, buy
* for slaves, are publicly exposed to sale by their
* countrymen ; and that, if we did not buy them
* others would.' — In answer to this, I observe, in the first place, that it cannot be pretended, that all the negroes imported into our colonies from Africa are procured by sale in a public market ; for it is notorious, that many of them are stolen, or obtained by other indirect methods. Nor, se- condly, can it be pretended, that the planter, wha buys them when imported, makes any inquiry, either into their former condition, or into the le- gality of that power which the merchant assumes over them ; it being equally notorious, that, in every colony, the circumstances of their being black, and imported from Africa, are alone suffi- cient, in the eye of the law, to fix them in slavery for life, and to entail the same ruin upon their off- spring.
618. Thirdly, Though ignorant and barbarous nations, like those of Guinea, should sell their prisoners, it will not follow that we have any right to buy them ; unless we did it with a view to deliver them from misery, to improve their manners, and to instruct them in the Christian re- ligion J purposes which, it is well known, never enter into the head of the slave-merchant. Fourth-
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 37
ly. It IS strange, that merchants, who claim the privilege of purchasing whatever is offered at a price, should be so ignorant in their own trade, as not to know that those goods only are market- able for whicli there is a demand ; and that buy- ers, as well as sellers, are necessary in commercial intercourse. Will it be pretended, that the petty kings of Africa would continue to enslave their subjects and neighbours with the same alacrity as at present, if our West Indians and the North Americans were to purchase no more slaves ? As well may it be pretended, that the demand for to- bacco would not be lessened, though all Europe, Asia, and Africa, were to discontinue the use of it.
619. But, passing this, let me ask, in the fifth place. Who it was that first taught the negroes of Africa to sell one another ? Who are they, who tempt those unhappy people, by every sort of bribery that can be supposed to have influence on them, to plunder and betray, every man his neigh- bour, in order to get together a multitude of hu- man victims to answer the yearly demand ? Are not Europeans, and European planters, the first movers in this dreadful business ? Does it then become them to charge Africa with the whole guilt of a commerce, which, but for their cunning, cru- elty, and avarice, would not now exist, and would never have existed ? This sort of casuistry may justly be termed diabolical : for it is thus that the
•S8 ELEMENTS OP PART H,
most malevolent of all beings is said, first to tempt and corrupt, and then to accuse.
620. I shall only add, with respect to the argu- ment now before us, that goods are sometimes ex- posed to sale, which every trader knows it is not lawful to buy. He who purchases what he knows to have been stolen, is a partner in the guilt of the thief. He who buys a human being, with a view to reduce him to the condition of a wretched ne- gro slave, does every thing in his power to destroy the soul and the body of that human being, in or- der to get money for himself. And he who tempts a poor barbarian king to punish with slave- ry the most inconsiderable trespass, and to involve the innocent in the same ruin with the guilty, that he may have men to give in exchange for the trinkets and luxuries of Europe, does every thing that with impunity he can do, to confound truth find justice ; to introduce wickedness and misery Into the dominions of that barbarian ; and to pro- mote the views, and extend the influence, of the great adversary of God and man.
621. Secondly, It is said, ' That the negroes * are happier in our colonies than they were in their ' own country.' Supposing this true, it will not follow that we are excusable in making them slaves, unless we did it with a sincere intention to make them happy, and with their free consent, founded on a belief that we mean to do so. If I, by oppression, reduce an innocent man to poverty.
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. Sft-
and if Providence endow him with strength of mind to bear his misfortunes as becomes a Chris- tian, it is possible he may be happier in adversity than ever he was in prosperity ; but will this ex- cuse me for what I have done ? If it is unlawful to enslave an inoffensive fellow-creature, no unfore- seen and unintentional good consequences, that may follow upon it, will ever render it lawful. The knife of the ruffian may dismiss a good man from the troubles of this life, and send him to heaven : but is it therefore lawful to murder a good man ! If we estimate the morality of actions, not by the intention of the agent, but by the consequences, whereof, by the over-ruling care of a good Pro- vidence, they may be productive, we shall at once confound all moral principles.
622. In this plea of the slave-mongers there is something particularly shocking. By their cun- ning, and cruelty, and love of money, they have introduced many evils into the native countries of the negroes ; which, according to the best histori- cal information, were formerly regions of plenty and peace. And now, when they have stolen, or forced away, the unhappy victim into a distant land, and torn him for ever from the arms of con- sanguinity and friendship, and from every other comfort which remained for him in this, worlds and afterwards loaded him and his offspring with the chains of intolerable servitude, they are pleas- ed to affirm, that he is obliged to them for deli-
40 ELEMENTS OF PART II.
vering him from calamities, which by their means he might have been exposed to in his own coun- try. As if an enemy were first to fill every corner of my house with poisonous or inflammable mate- rials, and then violently to seize and cast me into a dungeon for life, telling me, that in this he did me a great favour, for that, if he had not forced me from home, I might have been burned, or poisoned, in consequence of the snares he had laid for me. What answer is due to such reason- ing!
623. But negroes are addicted to intoxication, and frequently entertain themselves with dancing" and wild music ; whence planters may be willing to believe, that they are happier with them than they could have been in a country where ruin is not known, except perhaps in the cottages of kings. Dancing, however, and drinking are very equivocal signs, and very inadequate means, of human happiness. How often do the most en- lightened Europeans have recourse to them, in order to banish care, or bring on a temporary stupefaction ! Even in those prisons they may be seen every day where the utmost misery pre- vails.
624. One man is not always a competent judge of another's feelings. But there are certain con- ditions and circumstances of life, whereof we say that they may make any reasonable man hap- py *, and there are others which, on hearing then)
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 41
' described, we declare to be worse than death. What then shall we say of the condition of a ne- gro slave ? Let us make his case our own, and ask ourselves, whether death or it be more de- sirable. To be stolen, or decoyed, or forced from our native country, for no crime of ours, and by those whom we never injured ; to be stowed, like lumber, amidst darkness, and death perhaps, and putrefaction, in the lower decks of a ship, sailing we know not whither ; to be stripped naked, and sold like beasts in a market ; to be driven away, by the scourge of the overseer, into hopeless slave- ry, in a strange land, where we find thousands of our countrymen in the same circumstances ; to be compelled to labour, with little intermission or shelter, under the burning sun of a tropical cli- mate; to be ourselves punished, and see our friends and innocent children punished, with unrelenting severity, for a slight offence, or merely to gratifj the unmeaning rage of a merciless oppressor ; to be subjected to laws, by which we are declared to be brutish slaves, and unworthy of a legal trial ; * to know that the same destiny awaits our posteri- ty, and that death alone will deliver us and them from the horrors of this condition ; to see our companions dying around us every day, in conse- quence of the miseries they undergo ; and, what perhaps is worst of all, to be obliged to keep
* See the laws of Carbadoes relating to slares.
42 ELEMENTS OF PART il,
company with, and spend our lives in the service of our tyrants : — are these desirable circumstances ? are they likely to make any rational being happy ? are they not worse than a thousand deaths ?
625. But can savages have sensibility to be af- fected, as we should be, with these circumstances ? Not so much, I grant, as we have, but enough to make them very wretched. The African negro is not deficient in sensibility. Violent in anger, and terrible in vengeance, he is also warm in his attachment to his native country and kindred. In love, and in friendship, he has sometimes given proof of such generosity as would do honour to any hero of romance. — From the blacks them- selves we may learn, what is their opinion of West-Indian slavery. Their frequent attempts to run away, though they knew not whither to run : the obstinacy of their behaviour towards those who use them cruelly; the cheerfulness with which they die, and that self-murder to which they too often have recourse, plainly shew, that they look upon their condition as miserable. And their no- tion of a future state is, that after death they shall return in freedom and happiness to their own country ; which is a proof that they consider such a return as the most desirable of all things, and their being detained in slavery as the greatest of all calamities. It is possible, however, that there may be among them some who are not dissatisfied with their condition. But those are individuals,
PART II, MORAL SCIENCE. 43
who either have fallen into the hands of humane masters ; or who, being in an uncommon degree s-tupid or profligate, are equally void of magnani- mity and of reflection.
626, It is urged, thirdly, ' That the Afri- ' can blacks are so very wicked as to deserve no ' other condition than slavery.' In answer to this, let me, in the first place, repeat a question formerly proposed, — How came they to be so very wicked ? Their ancestors, before they were ac- quainted with Europeans, are known to have been a harmless race of men, just, friendly, temperate (as much as people in their circumstances might be supposed to be), and strangers to avarice and discontent. Such to this day they would probably have continued, if they had never heard of Eu- rope, .or of white men. Europeans, therefore, are chargeable with their present depravity ; and that in three respects : First, by introducing among them intemperance and cruelty, and teaching them, by advice, example, and bribery, to be profligate, and enslave and sell one another : Secondly, by treating them with so much rigour ; keeping them ignorant of religion and morality ; behaving to- wards them as if they were more nearly allied to brutes than to men ; and setting before them so many examples of wickedness : And, thirdly, by making them slaves.
627. For it is well observed, by the wisest of poets, (as Atheuccus, quoting the passage, justly
44' ELEMENTS OF PART II.
calls him) — it is, I say, well observed by Homer, ■who lived when slavery was common, and whose knowledge of the human heart no person who un- derstands him will ever call in question, that
* when a man is made a slave, he loses from that
* day the halt of his virtue.* And Longinus, quot- ing the same passage, affirms, ' That slavery, how-
* ever mild, may still be called the prison of the
* soul, and a public dungeon.* And Tacitus re- marks, * That even wild animals lose their spirit ' when deprived of their freedom.* Banish from the human breast hope and the sense of honour, (and what sense of honour, or what hope, can an enslaved pagan retain !) and you banish at the same time the noblest incentives to virtue.
* Slavery,* says Montesquieu, * is not useful, ei-
* ther to the master or to the slave ; to the lat-
* ter, because he can do nothing by virtue; to the
* former, because he contracts with his slaves all ' sorts of evil habits, inures himself insensibly to
* neglect every moral virtue, and becomes proud, ' passionate, hard-hearted, violent, voluptuous, and
* cruel.* All history proves, and every rational philosopher admits, that as liberty promotes vir- tue and genius, slavery debases the understanding, and corrupts the heart, of both the slave and the master ; and that in a greater or less degree as it is more or less severe. So that in this plea of the slave-monger we have another example of the dia- bolical casuistry above mentioned j whereby the;
PART ir. MORAL SCIENCE. 45
tempter and corrupter endeavours to vindicate or gratify himself, by accusing those whom he has tempted and corrupted.
628. That negro slaves should be fierce and sa- vage is not wonderful ; it would be a miracle if they ■were otherwise. They are kept ignorant of their nature, duty, and final destination ; vitiated by the example of those who pretend to be wiser, better, and nobler, than they; w^antonly depiived of their inherent rights, whereof they have a sense as well as we; hardened, and rendered furious by de- spair ; their condition is without help, and with- out hope. That minds, untutored like theirs, and actuated by strong passions, should maintain a cheerful, patient, or pliable temper, in the midst of such misery ; or be virtuous, when beset on all sides by bad example, and cut off from every opportunity of rational improvement, is absolute- ly impossible. With all the advantages we have derived from philosophy, religion, and the man- ners of civilized life, if we were to suppose our country invaded, and our rights violated, by the African negroes, as cruelly as their rights are vio- lated by some European slave-merchants and plant- ers, candour, I believe, would compel us to ac- knowledge, that we should be as untractable and revengeful as they. And yet we would hardly admit, in their vindication, that we are by nature so depraved as to deserve no other condition than slavery. On the contrary, we should say of them.
46 ELEMENTS OF PART II*
and with truth, that they were such barbarians as to deserve at our hands no other return than final extermination. And, if our power were equal to our wishes and privileges, and if our de- liverance could be effected by no other means, we should arm ourselves with the rights of na- ture, and sweep our destroyers from the face of the earth. And if we did so, who would blame us!
629. flaking those allowances that ought to be made for the education and habits of savage life, and for that warmth of temper which prevails among the natives of the torrid zone, w^e shall not find that the negroes of Africa are naturally more corrupt than other men. Their remote an- cestors, if we believe history, were a respectable people. And they themselves are perhaps less corrupt than we should be in their circumstances : certain it is, that in general they are not more so than their masters. Their attachment to their children and parents, their gratitude to those mas- ters who use them well, the warmth of their friendship, their superiority to pain and the fear of death, are evidences, that they inherit from nature a constitution of mind very capable of improve- ment. If, as we read in Paradise Lost, Eve*s des- perate contempt of life and pleasure seemed to Adam to argue in her something sublime and ex- cellent*, let us not be insensible to the merit of
* Paradise Lost, X. 9T9-101G,
PART rr. MORAL SCIENCE, '47
that poor negro girl, who refused to marry, ' be- ' cause,* as she told Father Tertre, ' though miser- ' able herself, she would not bring into the world * children, whose sufferings would be more in- ' supportable to her than her own.' Who will say that this creature was so depraved as to de- serve no other condition than slavery !
630. For the white children committed to their care negro nurses are said to contract sometimes an extraordinary fondness ; by which they have even been prompted to disclose conspiracies form- ed by their countrymen for the recovery of their freedom ; for they could not bear to think that their little darlings, who had never offended, and whom, in their dialect, they distinguish by a name of peculiar endearment, should perish in the in- tended massacre. If this is thought to be an ex- ample of weakness rather than of magnanimity, it is, however, so amiable a weakness, and so truly feminine, as to do honour to the nature that is capable of it. So that, if we understand Homer's computation literally, and suppose that the day which delivered them into bondage took away the half of their original worth, we shall be inclined to consider the negroes as a race of men who miglit do credit to humanitv, if we did not debase and destroy them, and wdio are justly entitled to the privileges of rational beings.
631. Fourthly, The necessities of government and commerce have been pleaded in excuse of our
45 ELEMENTS OF PART ft,
conduct towards black men. But he who believes tliat universal justice and benevolence would be unfriendly to our political and commercial affairs, must admit, either that injustice and cruelty be- come lawful when money is to be got by them, or that there is something in our commercial po- licy which ought to be rectified. For as that which leads to absurdity cannot be true, so that cannot be right which necessarily produces wrong. And to go on in an evil course, merely because it seems easier to do so than to return to duty, can never be excuseable in any man, or in any nation. I apprehend, however, that this plea is no better founded than the others. Good government is maintained by justice, moderation, industry, love to our country and our neighbour, and the fear of God. But the practice in question tends to eradi- cate these virtues, and therefore cannot be neces- sary to good government.
632. That the proprietors of West Indian estates would be, in any respect, materially injured by employing free servants (if these could be had) in their several manufactures, is highly improbable, and has indeed been absolutely denied by those who were well informed upon this subject. A clergyman of Virginia assured me, that a white man does double the work of a slave : which will not seem wonderful, if we consider, that the former works for himself, the latter for another ; that by t-lie laws the one is protected, and the other op-
PART ri. MORAL SCIENCE. 49
pressed ; and that in the articles of food and cloth- ing, relaxation and rest, the free man has innum- erable advantages. In Jamaica, many slaves are kept for mere show ; and a gentleman from that island told me, that he had seen six of them loiter about a long morning in putting a house in order* which two English servants would have done to much better purpose in half the time. It may therefore be presumed, that if all who serve in the colonies were free, the same work would be performed by half the number, which is now per- formed by the whole ; which, even in a commer- cial view, would be of great benefit to the planter. And free servants, working as in England, with reasonable wages, rest on the Sabbath, and amuse- ment on holidays, would live longer than slaves, have more children, and be at once better dispos- ed, and better qualified, both for improving theii' country and for defending it.
633. The very soil becomes more fertile under the hands of freemen, and the fruits of the earth of a more generous nature. So says an intelliijent French author (Le Poivre) ; who, after observing, that the products of Cochin China are the sameia kind with those of the West Indies, but of better quality, and in greater abundance, gives for a rea- son, that the former are cultivated by freemen, and the latter by slaves ; and thence argues, that the negroes beyond the Atlantic ought to be made free. * Liberty and property,* says he, ' form
VOL. II, 8
4f6 ELEMENTS OF PART 11.
* the basis of abundance and good agriculture.
* I never observed it to flourish where those rights
* of mankind were not firmly established. The
* earth, which multiplies her productions with ' profusion under the hands of the free-born la- ' bourer, seems to shrink into barrenness under ' the sweat of the slave.* The same sentiments are found in Pliny and Columella : who both impute the decay of husbandry in their time, not to any deficiency in the soil, as if the earth could be ex- hausted of its genial powers by long cultivation (which, it seems, was in their days the vulgar be- lief), but to the unwise policy of leaving to the management of slaves those fields, which (to adopt the words of Pliny) ' had formerly rejoiced under
* the laurelled plowshare and the triumphant plow-
* man.' And Rollin, with good reason, imputes to the same cause the present barrenness of Pa- lestine, as compared with that fertility, which pro- cured for it in ancient times the appellation of * a ' land flowing with milk and honey *.*
634. It may be thought, that the planter could not easily, at first perhaps not possibly, procure a sufficient number of free servants. But, let it be remembered, that the present scarcity of them in our colonies is owing to the wretched policy there established. For it is affirmed by Dr Franklin, whose testimony on this subject will be allowed to
* See Columell. Prasfat— Plin. Hist. Nat. xviii. 3 Rol-
tin's History of Arts and Sciences, vol. i.
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. ^1
have very great weight, * that the negroes brought
* into the English sugar-islands have greatly di-
* niinished the number of white men. The poor
* whites/ says he, ' are by this means deprived of
* employment ; and those white men who have
* slaves, not labouring but luxurious, are enfeebled* ' and not so generally prolific.' So that, in those islands, if there were no slaves, it seems to be Franklin's opinion, that white men would be more numerous, more active, and more virtuous. Sure- ly, that cannot be good policy, which impairs the activity, corrupts the virtue, and lessens the num- ber, of white men.
635. If the negroes in Africa could once be satisfied, that on the opposite shores of the ocean they might live in freedom and plenty, may we not suppose, that many of them would be willing to leave tlieir own country, and seek their fortune on the footing of free servants, in North America and the West Indies ? For do we not see that to the same parts of the world, and with no better prospects, our own coun- trymen often choose to emigrate from a land which, except where merciless tyrants domineer, is a land of liberty and peace ? So that, if slavery were no more, it seems not unreasonable to be- lieve, that in our colonies there would soon be ra- ther a superabundance of free servants, than a de- ficiency. Those regions, which were long thought to be, and, when first discovered,- really were, in*
s^
ELEMENTS OF PART IB*
hospitable, are now known to be pleasant, and healthy, and fruitful even to luxuriance.
636. But how, it may be said, would it be possible to satisfy the negroes in Africa that they might with safety remove to the new world ? That could not be very difficult, if it be true, as the advocates for slavery affirm, that they are happier with them than they were at home. But this being false, I will admit, that for some time it might not be easy to persuade the Africans that they had any thing to expect from white men but treachery and torment. Yet were we to send among them, from year to year, some of their countrymen whom we had made free and happy, and who could with truth declare, that we wished to make others equally so, I cannot but think that their testimony would at least obtain belief: especially, when it was observed that they chose to return, and actually did return, with gladness, to the European colonies. And thus, among the nations on both sidesof the Atlantic, a right under- standing might in time be established; which would prepare the way for diffusing knowledge, civili- ty, and true religion, over the whole face of the earth.
637. But while the present system prevails, this scheme is wholly visionary, and indeed impractic- able. To give it a chance of being realized, the first step to be taken is, to prohibit, under the se- ■\erest penalties, the importation of slaves from
TART II. MORAL SGJENCE. 53
Africa into the British colonies. This would in- stantly change the condition of our negroes for the better, by making their lives of much greater importance to the planter, and consequently ob- liging him, for his own interest, to make tlieir la- bour moderate ; their food wholesome, and in sufficient abundance; their habitations and raiment comfortable ; their children and families objects of general concern ; their freedom attainable by good behaviour ; their education such as befits a Christian servant ; and by enforcing upon them the laws of wedlock, and restraining that un- bounded sensuality, which, I am told, their mas- ters at present do not discountenance, but rather, by connivance and bad example, encourage.
638. As money is not by all men accounted the chief good, and there are some who think virtue and happiness of more value, it is not impertinent to remark flirther, that, if the products of the Indies were to be procured by the labour of freemen, planters would themselves lead happier lives than they ever can do under their present plan of po- licy. For, as matters now stand, they are in per- petual danger of assassination ; and must know, that it is fear alone that restrains their miserable negro brethren from exerting all the power that can be derived from superiority of number, in re- gaining that liberty which they never forfeited, and to which the Author of Nature gave them a perfect right. Free servants may be faithful as-
34< EJ.E.MENTS OF PART II.
sociates, and are often the best of friends ; but from a slave, what is to be expected ? Montes- quieu informs us, in tlie following words ; to the truth of which the history of mankind, and the feelings of every generous heart, bear testimony. ' A slave sees a society happy, whereof he is not ' even a part ; he finds that security is establish-
* ed for others, but not for him ; he perceives
* that his master has a soul capable of self-ad-
* vancement, while his own is violently and for
* ever repressed. Nothing puts one nearer the ' condition of the beasts, than always to see free
* men, and not to be free. Such a person is the
* natural enemy of the society in which he lives.* Grant that, by means of his slaves, a planter, or pwner oi" a plantation, may acquire ten tiiousand pounds sooner than by being attended and served by freemen (which, however, I believe would not i)e the case) ; — yet, might not the tranquillity of such a state ; the satisfaction of being surrounded with faithful hearts and smiling eyes ; the circum- stance of having escaped from a scene of misery and carnage ; the approbation of a good con- science, and the hope of future reward, be ac- cepted as equivalents for a little superfluous gold and silver f
639. If nothing will satisfy the slave-monger, but sudden and enormous acquisitions, and if free servants be a tax upon his rapacity j — let freedom, however, take place, and let him indemnify him^
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 55
self, by raising the price of his marmfacture. Sii- gar and rum (thank Heaven !) are not necessary either to life or to virtue ; and if they were to become somewhat dearer, where would be the great harm ! — But (to bring this head to a conclu- sion), though all these reasonings should be reject- ed, I will not admit that any benefits derived from the trade of the western world, though they were ten thousand times greater than they are, can ever justify our enslaving and destroying black men. Nor will I admit, that this plea deserves the least notice, till it be first proved to my conviction, that gold and silver are of greater value than Christi- anity 5 that tobacco is a more glorious attainment, and more essential to happiness, than justice and brotherly love ; and that it is better for a man to live luxuriously in this world, than to be saved in that which is to come.
640. The Fifth argument that I have heard in favour of negro-slavery is founded on this prin- ciple, that negroes are animals of a nature inferior to man ; between whom and the brutes they hold as it were, the middle place. But, though this were true, it would not follow, that we have a right,, either to debase ourselves by habits of cruelty, or to use them ill : for even beasts, if inoffensive, are entitled to gentle treatment ; and we have rea- son to believe, that they who are not merciful will not obtain mercy. Besides, if we were to admit this theory, we should be much at a loss to deter*
56 ELEMENTS OF PART IT.
mine, whether the negro does really partake so much of the brute, as to lose that right to liberty "which, unless it be forfeited by criminal conduct, is inherent in every human, or at least in every ra- tional, being. And further, in the same proportion in wliich black men are supposed to be brutes, they must be supposed incapable of moral notions, and consequently not accountable fortheir conduct ; and therefore, to punish them as criminals must always be in a certain degree both absurd and cruel. , But this plea I do not think will ever be urged by our planters. Both negroes and mulattoes they know too well to have any doubt of their being men. For this notable piece of casuistry we are, I be- lieve, indebted to those ingenious modern philo- sophers, who never find any difficulty, or want of evidence, in paradoxes unfriendly to the Christian religion.
641. The only credible account extant of the origin of mankind is that which we have in Scrij^- ture. And if we acquiesce in it, we must believe, that all the nations of men upon the earth are * of one blood,* being descended of the same first parents. Nor can we reject it on rational grounds, till we have first proved, either from more au- thentic records, or from the nature of the thing, that it is not true. More authentic records it will hardly be pretended that there are ; for we have no genealogical table whereby it can be made ap- pear that negroes are not descended from Adam
Part ii. moral science. 57
and Eve. We must argue therefore from the na- ture of the thing, if we argue at all on this subject. And I think there is nothing in the na- ture of the negro, in his soul, or in his body, which may not easily be accounted for, on the supposition that he and we are of the same fa- mily.
642. As to his soul ; it is certain that he has reason, risibility, and a capacity of improvement ; that he possesses the faculty of speech, and con- sequently of forming, what philosophers call, ge- neral ideas (see § 20) ; that he perceives, as we do, a difference between beauty and deformity, truth and falsehood, virtue and vice, lawful au- thority and oppressive power (see § 520) ; that he has an idea, though no doubt a very imperfect one, of a Supreme Being and a future state, and may, by suitable education, be trained up in the exercise of religious, as well as of social, affec- tions ; and that, undisciplined as he is, he has frequently given proof of an elevated and gener- ous mind, and of great ingenuity in those arts and manufactures to which he has been accustom- ed to attend. These particulars, together with those of erect form, human shape, and human features, passions, and infirmities, amount to a de- monstration, either that his soul is human, or that ours is not human.
643. But are not some negroes remarkably stupid and perverse r Yes : and the same thing is
5-8 ELEMENTS 0? PART II,
true of some white men. In respect of under- standing, as well as disposition, do we not often see parents differ exceedingly from their children, and one brother from another ? — But blacks have not our delicacy of sensation, and can laugh and sing in the midst of torments which we tremble to think of. And were not Lacedemonians, though white men and Europeans, equally magnanimous, or, if you please, equally insensible ? In moral sensibilities, in love, friendship, and natural af- fection, the African savage is not deficient. And, W'hile we value ourselves on our compositions in prose and verse, let us remember, that, not many years ago, a poor female negro slave in Jamaica wrote some poems in the English tongue, which were published, and allowed to have considerable merit *.
644. I was once, about twenty years ago, en- gaged in this argument with a very eminent na- turalist, who maintaned that negroes are of a spe- cies inferior to the human ; and gave this reason among others, that not one of them had ever learned to speak distinctly. It was easy to answer, as I did, that such of them as were grown up to manhood before they conversed with our people could not possibly acquire a good English pro- nunciation, even though pains were taken to teach
* See on this subject much acute and authentic observa- tion in Letters on Slavery, by my benevolent, candid, and learned friend, Mr Dickson-
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE, 69
them ; because their organs had been too long inured to a different language ; and that the chil- dren'of our slaves could not learn to speak well, because they associated from infancy with people of their own condition, among whom a barbarous dialect had long prevailed, which their masters rather encouraged than endeavoured to rectify ; but, if a negro from his earliest years were to keep company with English people, I did not see that any thing could hinder him from speaking as well as they did. (See § 44, 45). This did not satisfy my opponent, who insisted, that negroes are naturally and utterly incapable of distinct articu- lation, and must therefore be of a race inferior to the human. But I happened, a few days after, to see his theory overturned, and by conjecture es- tablished, by a negro girl about ten years old, who had been six years in England, and not only spoke with the articulation and accent of a native, but repeated to me some pieces of poetry, with a degree of elegance, which would have been ad- mired in any English child of her years *. Since that time I have conversed with several African negroes, who spoke English well ; much better indeed than the greater part of the common people of Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Scotland.
645. But if negroes be really of the human
* She was in Lord Mansfield's family ; and at his desire, and in his presence, repeated those pieces of poetry to me. She. was called Didof and 1 believe is still alive.
60 ELEMENTS OP ^ART II.
species, why are their skins black, lips thick, noses flat, and hair woolly ? The question cannot be directly answered, because we have little cer- tain knowledge of the negro, previous to the dis- covery of the West Indies. But from a variety of analogies in nature, it is easy to shew, that these are no extraordinary appearances ; and that, thouf^h we had never seen or heard of black men, our knowledge of the effects of climate and cul- tivation, upon animals and vegetables, might have inclined us to admit the existence of such men to be neither impossible nor improbable. For, be- tween the skin and features of our fairest ladies, and those of our swarthy and grira-visaged men, is there a greater difference, than between the latter and an African black or Indian ? Do not noses as flat, and lips as thick, as those of the negro, some- times appear among us, without raising any sus- picion of a foreign kindred ? And may not se- veral varieties of crisp and sleek hair be seen in tlie same parish, and even in the same family.
646. Let it be remarked further, that towards the north the whitish colours seem to prevail, and the tawny towards the equator. Hares, foxes, and some other animals, that are russet in this coun- try, become whiter as you go nearer the pole. Danes and Russians are generally white- haired, and the more southerly Europeans of a dark com- plexion. Nor is there, perhaps, a greater diversi- ty, in this respect, between Italians and Ethiopi-
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. '61
ans, than between the Danes and Italians. There appears, too, to be something of a vegetative nature in the hair, and even in the flesh, of animals : and it is well known, that great changes may be produced in vegetables, by a change of cultivation and soil. The colour of roses, tulips, and daisies, may be altered, and the new colour made here- ditary by art ; and a small field-poppy metamor- phosed into a most luxuriant and gaudy flower.— Need we wonder, then, that men, originally white (as there is reason to believe they were), living naked and savage in the torrid zone ; inhabiting smoky and dirty hovels ; obliged to smear their bodies to defend them from insects and other evils that naked men are exposed to ; or perhaps in- clined, from some principle of superstition, or barbarous policy, to disfigure or disguise them- selves artificially ; and eating such food, and drink- ing such liquors, as to us are utterly unknown, should, in a long course of ages, lose tlieir pri- mitive complexion, and become black, or tawny, or copper- coloured, according to the peculiarity of their circumstances ? Is this more surprising, than that Arabian horses should, by a change of climate and provision, dwindle into Shetland, ponies ; or than the varieties, in respect of size, tail, horns, and wool, which sheep, of the same flock originally, may be made to undergo, by be- ing sent into different countries ?
647. The Ethiopian colour was, by Aristotle,
62 ELEMENTS OF PART II.
Strabo, and most of the ancient philosopliers, as- cribed to the heat of the sun merely ; a notion discoverable in the etymology of the word ( A/^/o-^), and countenanced by the fable of Phsston, But it may be presumed, that the other causes above mentioned have contributed to the same eftect. — As to the opinion of those who derive this colour from the curse pronounced upon Ham, the wicked son of Xoah, it is sufficiently confuted by Sir Thomas Brown, in a learned dissertation upon the blackness of negroes, in the sixth book of his In- quiries into vulgar and common errors.
648. It has been objected, that the descendants of white men, who have inhabited the torrid zone for two or three hundred years, do still retain the colour of their fathers ; and that therefore the ef- fects of climate, in changing the human features and complexion, cannot be so great as this account supposes. But it may be answered, that the con- dition of the European planter is not at all similar to that of the original natives of Africa and Ame- rica. He never goes naked, nor eats the food of savages ; he is not obliged or inclined to smear or otherwise disfigure his body ; nor is a small and smoky hut his habitation. And, though they were to live savage and naked in those latitudes, I know not whether three hundred, or even six hundred years would not be too short a period for transform- ing white into black men. It is, however, observ- ed, that the negroes who are settled in Europe do in
Part iu moral science. €S
time lose a little of their native blackness ; and we may presume they would lose more of it, if they were to be more exposed, than they are, to the influences of a northern climate. 1 have been as- sured by a gentleman of observation and unques- tionable veracity *, that, in the island of St Chris- tophers, where he lived for some years, the legs and feet of those white servants who wear no shoes or stockings, become in time of the exact colour of the negro. And it is generally believ- ed, that the descendants of white parents, by in- termarrying with blacks, and the offspring of ne- groes, by intermarrying with whites, may, in a few generations, lose their ancient colour and fea- tures, and become, the former black, and the lat- ter white ; which, if they were really different species, would be as great an irregularity in nature, as if complete asses or horses were to be found among the descendants of a mule.
649. I remember that, in the course of the de- bate with my friend the naturalist, he produced two skulls, the one, as he told me, of a white man, and the other of a black ; and he desired me to observe, when he set them down, that the skull of the white man rested with the chin touch- ing the table ; while the other leaned a Hale backwards, and left the space of an inch or half
* The late Mr Patrick Wilson of Aberdeen, one of the most learned and worthiest men I have ever known ; and one whose dpioion of negro slavery vrsa the same with mine.
64 ELEMENTS OV PART II.
an inch between the table and the point of the chin. His inference was, that the two skulls could not belong to the same species of animals, and that therefore the negroes were not perfect men, but beings of a lower order. But I was as little satisfied with this as with his other arguments. The horizontal position of the one skull did not ■seem to me to imply superiority, nor the obliijile inclination of the other to betoken inferiority. Or, granting the attitudes in question to be thus signi- ficant ; here were but two individual skulls ; and there was no evidence that the same peculiarity •would universally distinguish the skull of a white man from that of a black. Or, if it should, I had heard of nations who moulded the heads of their infants into a certain artificial form, which in process of time came to be (if we believe Hippo- crates) hereditary and natural. Or, admitting that this had never been done by negroes, I did not see any absurdity in supposing, that the in- fluence of soil and climate, or a certain tempera- ture of the blood, might dispose some parts of the human body to be more raised, and others •more depressed, in some tribes of men, and in some parts of the earth, than others : since it was found in fact, that some families are distinguished by aquiline, some b}' flat, and some by crooked noses ; that deformities, and elegancies, and other jieculiarities of shape, in the parent, are often transmitted to the child j and that the cheek-bones
PART II, MORAL SCIENCE. 63
of the Highlanders of Scotland are generally- thought to be more prominent than those of Eng- lishmen. I added, or I might have added, that many varieties yet more observable appear in the brute creation, particularly in dogs ; which, how- ever, are all referred to the same species, notwith- standing that, in shape, colour, hair, and size, they are diversified almost without end.
650. To conclude this part of the subject : We have, I think, the fullest evidence, that the souls of negroes are human souls : and we have no evi- dence that the bodies of negroes are not human bodies. \Ve have tlierefore every reason, that the case admits of, to believe, that all the men upon earth, whatever be their colour, are our brethren, and neighbours ; and if so, both reason and Scrip- ture declare, that it is our duty to love them, and to do unto them as we would that they should do unto us. And if national peculiarities of shap& and stature^ as well as of colour, may be account- ed for, as I think they may, from the foregoing principles; it follows, that Laplanders, Samoeydes, Esquimaux, the Hurons, the Chinese, and the American and Asiatic, as well as African Indians, and, in a word, all the inhabitants of this globe, who have reason, speech, and erect figure, must be considered as one great family, and as informed with souls of the same order, whatever slight va- rieties may appear in their bodies. So that though there are many nations and tribes of men, it can-
VOL, n. B
66 ELEMENTS OF PART II.
not be said with truth, that there is more than one species. Indeed, if every variety in the visible part of the human frame were to be ascribed to a difference of race, the species of men would be too numerous for computation, and w^e should be obliged to refer to different originals those whom we knew to be of the same kindred.
651. The human body, like every other corpo- real system, must be subject to the physical laws of nature ; and the soul of man, liable to be affect- ed by every thing that essentially affects the body, must be subject, in a certain degree, to the in- fluences of soil and climate, food and drink, and other modes of living. This we all feel, or may feel, in ourselves. The effects of bright and cloudy skies, on the soul as well as the body ; of violent heat and violent cold ; of a damp and a dry situation ; of light and gross food ; of weak and strong liquors ; of a cleanly and a slut- tish economy ; are known to many men by expe- rience ; or, at least, are so generally acknow- ledged, that we need not scruple to affirm them to be real and important. And if causes that are but temporary produce sensible effects, the same causes when permanent must produce effects still mere sensible, as well as durable. If a month of excessive heat or cold disqualify us for many of our customary exertions, years and ages of such heat or cold must disable the human soul and body in several of their faculties.
PARt n. MORAL SCIENCE. 67
652. In several, I say; but not in all. Man's body is of earth, but his soul is from heaven. He depends on outward things for convenience and pleasure ; but his happiness is from within. In all climates and conditions, he perceives a difference between truth and falsehood ; may act a virtuous or a vicious part ; improve his nature to a certain, degree, or debase it ; obtain knowledge of those things that lie within his reach, or by prejudice or neglect harden himself in error and ignorance. When I speak of the power of climate over the human faculties, it is with a view to those more conspicuous operations chiefly that are felt in so- ciety, and claim the notice of the historian.
653. Extremes of all kinds are hurtful : our minds and bodies thrive best in moderate circum- stances. Hardship and opposition, when such as may be overcome, rouse the soul, and improve all the human powers, by exercising them ; but, when excessive, render men stupid or desperate. And the warmth and plenty of some countries diffuse a languor through the human frame, and promote sensuaHty, while they debase the under- standing.— But, in forming national characters, other circumstances concur, besides those of soil and climate. Had the states of Greece been se- parated by inaccessible mountains, or impenetraible forests, like some provinces in Am^erica, or by seas which cannot be passed without difficulty, like many of the islands in the Pacific, Atlantic;,^
SS ELEMENTS OF PART 11.
and Eastern oceans ; or had they been immured in the centre of the African or Asiatic continent ; %ve should never have heard of Athenian elegance or Spartan valour. Nations, like individuals, are improved by emulation, activity, and mutual in- tercourse. From danger they learn vigilance and fortitude ; by preparing their own superfluities for exportation, and importing those of other coun- tries, they become industrious, ingenious, and ac- quainted with the varieties of human manners ; and the necessity of uniting against a common enemy teaches them policy and the discipline of war.
654. The arts of writing and of working in iron are so essential to the attainment of know- ledge, and to many of the most important profes- sions, particularly navigation and agriculture, that, without them, we can hardly conceive how, in our sense of the word, any people should become civilized. And let it be observed, that these arts, though known in Europe from very early times, were till of late unknown in the southern parts of Africa, and throughout all the islands and conti- nents of America. To which we may add, that the eastern regions of Europe, from their vicinity to that part of Asia which produced the first men, enjoyed the advantage of being soon peopled, and no doubt of deriving from their progenitors of the human race a great deal of traditionary informa- tion, which, in the long wanderings of other tribes,
Part ir. moral science. 69
to the extremities of the earth, might be totally forgotten. And the Mediterranean sea, winding along so many shores, with a gentle undulation, and in a temperate climate, supplied the best op- portunities of improving the navigator, extending the influence of the merchant, quickening the in- dustry of the artisan, and gratifying the curiosity of the traveller.
655. By these and the like considerations, that superiority, which has hitherto distinguished the inhabitants of Europe, and of the adjoining coun- tries, may be accounted for, without supposing the rest of mankind of an inferior species. Were two brothers of equal genius to be brought up, the one in the metropolis of England, with every ad- vantage of education and company, the other in St Kilda, without any of those advantages; it is probable they would differ no less in accomplish- ments and general character, than African or American savages differ from Europeans. And thus, our former conclusion is still further con- firmed, and every plea in favour of slavery prov* ed to be frivolous.
656. But what would you have us do ? Must all persons concerned in colonies, where slavery is tolerated, be branded with the epithets cruel and unjust, if they do not immediately give freedom to their slaves, and so relinquish one half of their property, and make the other useless ? I do not say so : I am very far from thinking so. I have
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known gentlemen return from tlie West Indies, after a loiig residence there, with untainted minds, tender hearts, and of the strictest probity and ho- nour. Many persons are proprietors of slaves, who have come innocently by them, and whom it ■would be difficult to indemnify, if a general eman- cipation of slaves in our colonies were immediately to take place. And both to them and to the whole British empire, it might be so dangerous, as to be politically impossible, to overturn all at once an establishment so widely diifused, and of so long standing *. See § 637.
657. Yet humanity requires, that something should be done for our unfortunate brethren : and
* These pages on slavery contain in brief the substance of a treatise, composed in the year 1778, from materials which I had been gradually collecting for almost twenty years. I then had thoughts of publishing the whole ; but was prevent- ed, partly by my not having at that time access to all the books I wished to consult ; and partly by the fear of having misrepresented some things, in consequence of false or partial information. I find, however, since this matter, having at- tracted the notice of the Legislature, came to be maiutely in- vestigated, that my information was in general but too well founded. It may be said, that these remarks of mine come too late, now (1792) when the commons of Great Britain have passed a vote for the abolition of the slave-trade. But, as slavery is not yet, nor likely to be soon, abolished ; and as I tliink myself responsible, first to my own conscience, and second- ly to the public, for what I teach, I Avish to be known what for these thirty years and upwards I have been publicly teaching on the subject of slavery.
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 71
much might be done, not only without danger, but even without difficulty. The same power that makes can unmake a law ; and laws that contra- dict the plainest principles of reason and justice, one would think it more difficult to establish than to abrogate. Let those laws, then, and customs be abrogated, which forbid a master to give free- dom to his slave ; which put the health, and too often the life, of a black in the power of a white man ; which refuse to admit, in a court of justice, a black man's testimony against a white, and of course nullify every criminal law that exists in fa- vour of black slaves ; which authorize at all times unnatural severities, and too often unjust con- demnations * ; which give countenance to the
* The following is, I hope, a singular fact, but was cer- tainly a real one. — A clergyman, an intimate friend of mine, went to Jamaica, to recover a legacy left him by his brother. While he was there, he happened to be present at a trial of three negroes, a woman and two men. After witnesses were examined, a person in the court asked this gentleman what was his opinion of the prisoners. ]My opinion, said he, must be that of every body else ; these people are as innocent as I am. Aye ! replied the other ; but, for all that, if you were to live a while in Jamaica, )'ou would see the necessity of making an example now and then. The slaves were accord- ingly condemned, and dragged to instant death ; gibbets be- ing erected at the door of the house. The two men met their fate with a stern courage, and spoke not a word. The woman, mounted on an empty hogshead, with the rope about her neck, told her executioners that she was willing to die if thfj- would only tell her what the crime was for which she mus-^
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Crimes of the man stealer, and of those incen- diaries, who bribe the petty tyrants of Africa to execute schemes of plunder and carnage, in order to force their subjects or neighbours into slavery ; and which consider the black colour of the Afri- cans, and the circumstance of their having been imported, as a sufficient reason for making them and their posterity slaves.
658. Let the clergy in our colonies undergo reformation ; and, if nothing short of compulsion can prevail, let them be compelled to do their duLy, or resign their offices. At present it is the fashion among them to take no notice of the ne- groes : nay, I am informed, that in those coun- tries (in some of them at least, I hope it is not so in all), if a clergyman were called to visit a dying negro he would think himself as much affronted as if he was summoned to attend a sick ox. This I give, on the authority of a gentleman who was a planter in Grenada, and justly complained of it as a most infamous neglect of duty on the part of those clergy. Nay, one who was himself a clergy- man in Virginia, and perhaps is so still, assured me, that there no attempt is ever made to in- struct a black in the Christian religion ; and that if he, or any other churchman, were in this re-
sufFer ; but, instead of receiving any answer, she was instantly turned off. This story I give from the report of an eye witness, whose testimony 1 could no more doubt than that of my own senses.
PART II. MORAL SCIENCE. 13
spect to depart fioni the established mode, he would be ridiculed h^ all his brethren. In Jamaica, I have too good reason to believe that not a few of the priesthood aflect to be infidels ; and that many of them will refuse baptism to those black men who desire it, unless a fee be paid (three pounds twelve shillings sterling, if I am not mis- informed), which very few slaves can afford to pay *. In behalf of those clergy, I have heard it said, that the planters will not permit them to preach the gospel to the negroes. But this I do not believe nor think possible. Supposing it however true, I hope I shall give no great offence by saying, that when a planter's prohibition, and the express command of Jesus Christ, happen to contradict each other, it may be worth a clergy- man's while to consider which of the two de- serves the preference.
659. Let the labour required of the negro be proportioned to his ability, and consistent with his health : let him rest on the Sabbath, and receive a Christian education : let a sufficiency of the ne-
* About three years ago, a friend of mine was present, in a dining party in Jamaica, when a churchman told, with many expressions of contemptuous merriment, that their bishop had sent over some pious books for the edification of the negroes ; and, added he, I have been entrusted with a parcel of those books, and shall take good care of them ; for they are in my house, safe under lock and key ; and there they shall remain. The story was well received; and the man who told it — not cen- sured at all.
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cessarles of life, with reasonable wages, be allow- ed him ; and when he has served his master faith- fully for a certain time, let him and his innocent children be free. All this West Indians n'^ay do ; and reason and religion declare it to be no more than their duty. And when this is done, the Afri- can will be happy in his exile j his master may grow rich without a crime ; and those plantations will become like paradise, which are now — places of torment.
660. The enemies of our religion long pleased themselves with a conceit that the Indians of A- merica were not of the human species, because in the early ages there could be no means of con- veying into that part of the world colonies from Europe or Asia. One French writer positively affirms, that between Asia and America an ocean roars of eight hundred leagues in breadth. But from late discoveries we learn, that the eastern ex- tremity of Asia is separated from the western ex- tremity of America by a straight, w^iich has islands in it, is generally frozen in winter, and not more than forty miles over. So that, we may as easily conceive how America might have been first in- habited by emigrants from Asia, as how Great Britain could have been peopled, as we have rea- son to think it was, by colonies from Gaul.
MORAL PHILOSOPHY^
PART THIRD.
OF POLITICS.
661. We are now to consider the origin and na- ture of Policy or Civil Government ; which is of all human institutions the most important and complex. As an introduction to it, some things must be premised concerning the general nature of law. For the end of just government is public good : and to public good human actions are directed by means of laws. What then is a law ? What are the notions comprehended in it ? What are the rights, the duties, and the ob- ligations that arise from it? The science that contains an answer to these questions, and to others that depend on these, is sometimes call- ed Jurisprudence^ Prudentia juris, the science of right or of law. Hitherto, since we entered on the practical part of the abstract philosophy, Hu- man duty has been the chief object of our in-
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quiry ; we are now to attend chiefly to what is called right, a word often correlative to duty, but not always strictly so j as will appear after- wards.
CHAPTER I.
OF THE GENERAL NATURE OF LAW.
QQ2, If we were to give an account of the laws of any particular country, we might begin with this definition. — Law is a rule of civil conduct, prescribed by the supreme power in a state, com- manding what is right, and prohibiting what is wrong *. But, taking the word law in a more ge- neral sense, and considering ourselves as subject to the laws of God, as well as of man, we may rather say, that law is the declared will of a per- son or persons in authority (that is, having a right to govern), commanding some things, and forbid- ding others, with a promise, expressed or implied, of reward or convenience to those who obey, and a denunciation of punishment or inconvenience to those who disobey. The good thus promised, and the evil thus denounced, are called the sanctions of the law. They who obey the law enjoy the
* Blackstone.
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 77
advantage of being protected by it, and sometimes other positive rewards. They who transgress are liable to the punishment or penalty denounced. That, under equitable government, the protection of law is an unspeakable advantage, will appear to those who consider, that a good citizen has the whole power of the state engaged on his side, to vindicate his rights, and guard him from in- jury.
663. Laws may be divided into those of God, and those of man. The law of God is subdivided into the natural or moral law, and the positive or revealed. The former may be discovered by a right use of reason, the latter is made known by revelation. To appropriate certain portions of our time to the offices of religion, is a moral duty, discoverable by reason, and founded on the same principle that recommends those offices ; time be- ing necessary to every work of man. To set apart one day in seven for this purpose, is a positive duty, which man did not know till it was revealed to him. When moral and positive duties inter- fere, so that we cannot perform the one without a temporary neglect of the other, moral duties ge- nerally deserve the preference. To rest from our ordinary business on Sunday is not so strictly in- cumbent as to relieve distress on that day, even though, in doing so, we should be obliged to la- bour from morning to night. The sanctions of the divine law are, first, Future reward or punish-
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ment ; secondly, the approbation or disapproba- tion of conscience ; and, tliirdly, the advantages and disadvantages annexed even in this life to vir- tuous and vicious conduct. — The divine moral law, which is also called the law of nature, regu- lates, or ought to regulate, the intercourse of in- dependent nations with respect to one another ; and in this view it is commonly called the law of nations.
664. Those laws, whereby human authority re- gulates the policy of any particular nation, are called the civil or municipal laws of that na- tion. Both these epithets are derived from the Latin ; the one from civis, which denotes a person who is a member or c^^izen of any political com- munity : the other from miinicipium^ which an- ciently denoted a community dependent on Rome, but possessing the right of enacting laws for the regulation of its own policy. — And here it may be proper to explain two or three terms of the Ro- man law. A proposal for a law, which in the British parliament is termed a bill, the Romans called rogatio ; because, when the magistrate put this question to the Roman people, Velitis jiihea- tisqtte, Quirites hoc fieri ? if the people answered, Uti rogas, this made the bill a law. Hence Jerre rogationem, and sometimes ferre legem^ answered to our parliamentary phrase, to bring in a bill; with this difference, that the rogatio was brought before the Roman people, who were the legisia-
CHAP I. MORAL SCIENCE. 79
tors : whereas, with us, the bill is brought before the parh'ament, which forms our legislature ; as will be particularly described hereafter. Legem seu rogationem cmtiqum^e answered to our phrase, to throw out the hill, not to suffer it to pass into a law. Legem ahrogare signified to repeal a law : legem jubere, sancire, Jigere^ or acciperc, to make or enact a law. Legem refigere is the same with abrogare. When by a new law a clause of a for- mer law was annulled, the phrase was de lege derO' gave : when by a new law a clause was added to a former law, it was le[!;em surromre.
665. Human laws may ascertain, and in some cases limit, the law of nature, but ought never to contradict it : for that would be setting up the will of man in opposition to the authority of God : and the more that human laws deviate from the law of nature, the more unjust they become. In countries subject to monarchical government, where a distinction of ranks, for reasons to be given hereafter, is essential to the good of the state, the law may oblige a father of a certain fortune and station to leave the greatest part of his estate to his eldest son ; who becoming his father's repre- sentative, and inheriting his rank, is liable to incur more expence than any of the younger children : this is reasonable, because it imposes no unnatural hardship on any body. But were the law to re- quire a father to leave his fortune to his eldest son, without making any provision, or a suitable
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provision, for his younger children, such a law would be unjust, because contradictory to the di- vine law, both moral and positive.
666. The laws of the ancient Romans, as col- lected hy the Emperor Justinian, have been called emphatically the civil law. In Scotland, and some other countries, this law serves as a kind of sup- plement to the municipal law of the land, and great regard is had to its authority ; but in Eng- land it is no more regarded than that of any other foreign nation. — Municipal law is divided into common law and statute law, the former is founded in ancient and immemorial custom ; the latter is contained in written statutes or acts of the legisla- ture. I know not whether any British statute could be produced which forbids murder or theft, or gives a man the disposal of his own estate. But these things have always been so ; and this circum- stance gives them the full force of laws. The common law of England was collected, about five hundred years ago, by (jlanville ; that of Scot- land is contained in a book called Regiiim Majes- tatemy from the two first words of the book. On comparing these two collections, we find, that an- ciently the common law^ was pretty much the same in both kingdoms. But considerable altera- tions have been introduced since that time.
667. The canon law was compiled from the de- crees of the popish councils, and from the re- scripts, or written determinations of the popes-
CHAP I. MORAL SCIENCE. 81
Except within the pope's own dominions, great liberties are now taken with it, even in popish countries. Among protestants it has no autliori- ty. Yet in our ecclesiastical law many of its prin- ciples are discernible. But these derive their au- thority among us, not from the church of Rome, but from acts of our own legislature, whereby they have been adopted and ratified.
668. A law must be promulgated to those who are to obey it ; and, when promulgated according to the established forms, no pretence of ignorance is admitted as a /egal excuse for transgression. If it were, every transgressor would plead ignorance, and so the law would be of no effect ; and people, trusting to this plea, would not give themselves the trouble to inquire what those laws are, by which they must regulate their conduct. How- ever, in a particular case, unavoidable ignorance would no doubt be admitted, in equity, as an al- leviation of the transgressor's fault. Different forms of promulgation have taken place in differ- ent nations. Where printing is practised, and newspapers circulate, the matter is very easy. Among us, when a law is made that particularly concerns the lower orders of the people, — with respect to them, as not being supposed to be con- versant in newspapers, or in general conversation, an interval of time is allowed, during which the law, though made and promulgated, does not take effect.
VOL, II. p
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669. The moral law of nature is promulgated to man by his reason and conscience ; and is as- certained, illustrated, and enforced, by revelation. Conscience, considered as the promulgator of this law, has been, by some writers, divided into cer- tain, probable, dubious, and scrupulous. When we are sure that the law is good, and that our con- duct is conformable to it, this is called certain conscience. When our conduct is conformable to a nde, but we are not certain of the conformity of that rule to the law of nature, it is probable conscience. When we are doubtful both of the rectitude of the rule and of the conformity of the action, it is dubious conscience. And when the ground of doubt is of small importance, con- science is called scrupulous, from a Latin word, signifying a stone small in size, but troublesome when it gets into the shoe of the traveller. — This division is neither correct nor material ; and in its stead we might put a good rule of Cicero, — Ne- ver to do that, of the lawfulness of which we are doubtful. Certain conscience alone is that which a man may safely act upon. Scrupulous conscience, though perhaps the effect of weak un- derstanding, is, however, entitled to reverence; as nothing can be unimportant to a conscientious man, which he believes to be his duty.
670. What is the moral law of nature ? is a question that has often been proposed. That (I would answer) is incumbent on us by the law of
CIIAP I. MORAL SCIENCE. 88'
our nature, which, after candid inquiry, our rea- son and conscience declare to be right. Other an- swers have been given. Some speak of seven precepts of Noah, from wliich the wliole law of nature is deducible ; but of this there is no evi- dence. Some have thouglit that the huv of nature is nothing else than the general consent of all na- tions. And it is true that, with respect to the principal points of the law of nature, all civilized nations are of the same opinion. But though there were only one nation, one family, or one person upon the earth, certain duties would be in- cumbent on that nation, family, or person ; which duties would result from, and be a part of the law of nature : so that there is a law of nature previous, not only to the consent, but even to the existence, of nations. Others have said, that the law of nature is that rule of conduct which men would observe in a state of perfect virtue. In such a state, no doubt, the law of nature would be obeyed ; but in such a state there would be no room for many duties incumbent on men by the law of nature ; those particularly that regard the regulation of such passions, as a sense of injury is apt to render excessive. For in such a state there would be no injury, and consequently no room for forgiveness, placability, and mercy, which yet are duties enjoined by the law of nature. — The con- ceit of ]Mr Hobbes, that in the nature of things there is no distinction between just and unjust.
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ELEMENTS OF PART III.
right and wrong ; and that in civil society the will of human governors is the sole standard of duty, and consequently of the law of nature ; this con- ceit, I say, we need not stop to examine. For Hobbes and his paradoxes are now forgotten, as they deserve to be : and Dr Clarke, in his excel- lent work on the Evidences of Religion, has prov- ed, that this paradox is both absurd and self con- tradictory, as well as impious.
671. Laws respect future actions. For it would be unreasonable to make a law declaring a past action unlawful, which at the time it was perform- ed was not unlawful : a law with a retrospect, as it is called, would be a very odious thing. ' Where ' there is no law (divine or human) there is no * transgression.* — Every law is a precept or com- mand ; and tvevy precept implies permission. That law, for example, which commands men not to steal or murder, permits men to enjoy their pro- perty and life. From the permissive part of law, arises right, jus ; which is defined a power, allow- ed by law, to have, do, or require, from another, some certain thing. From the ^9rece;?//i'c' part of law arises obligation; what the law commands I am obliged to do ; and if I have a right to a thing, there in an obligation on others not to viv.- late that right ; and if I am under an obligation ta do a thing, others have a right to require that I should do it. Obligation and right, therefore, do mutually imply each other, and are both compre-
€HAP I. MORAL SCIENCE. o^
hended in every law. The former restrains li- berty, the latter secures it. They may be furthei: distinguished thus. — We may dispense with a right, but not with an obligation ; we may forgive a debt due to us, but of a debt which we owe, we can acquit ourselves in no other way than by pay- ing it.
672, The obligation of law has been divided into moral and natural. We are under a moral obligation, that is, we are bound in conscience, to obey every good law. We are said to be under a natural obligation, that is, we are determined by prudence, to obey even those bad laws which we cannot transgress without incurring a penalty. Bad laws, however, we ought not to obey, if our con- science declare it criminal to obey them : and such laws seldom exist in regular society. All the di- vine laws are good, and guarded by the most aw- ful sanctions ; so that to obey them we are under the strongest obligations, both natural and moral. Laws generally concern a whole class of people. Yet a law may be made, that points at one per- son ; and this sort of law, whether made out of favour, or out of resentment, the Romans called privilegium, from priviis and lex. The English word pritilefj^e has a different meaning, and al- ways implies favour, or something which it is bet- ter to have than not to have.
673. Equity is distinguished from strict law. All the divine la\ys are equitable and good. But
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it may happen, that a human law, though good upon the whole, shall in a particular case be op- pressive. Now, when a judge moderates the ri- gour of the law, by departing from the letter of it, and giving judgment according to humanity and the peculiar circumstances of the case, he is said to decide according to equity. It is generally thouo'ht that inferior courts ought to be courts of strict law, because from them an appeal may be made to a higher court ; and because the judges in them are not supposed to have that extensive knowledge of the law and of human affairs, which the higher judges probably have. But supreme courts must be courts of equity; always, how- ever, adhering to law when tliat can be done without oppression. The Scotch court of session, though not a supreme court, claims the privilege of deciding according to equity, as well as accord- ino; to law. The court of chancery in Enohind is a court of equity. And the house of lords must be considered as a court of equity, as well as law ; because its sentence is final, and must stand, wlie- ther it be according to law or not.
674. \Vhen out of special favour a person is exempted from the obligation or penal sanction of any law, it is called dispensation ; and is the work of the lawgiver, as equity is of the judge; for in the law the dispensation must be specitied. AVith regard to human laws, dispensations may be allow- able and reasonable. But to grant a dispensation,
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. ^
exempting one from the obligation of tlie divine law, or stating an inconsiderable penalty as aa atonement for a transgression of it, though by the church of Rome this has been done, is absurd and imj^ious ; because it sets in opposition the will of man to the law of God.
675. Every variety in the states or conditions of men may occasion some variety in their rights, and consequently in their laws. Now our states or conditions depend upon our connection, first, with things irrational and inanimate, and second- ly, with our fellow men. From the former con- nection are derived innumerable rights and obli- gations respecting the acquisition and enjoyment of property ; from the latter arise all the social duties, and all the laws that relate to government, commerce, war, and peace.
676. That state, in which men may be supposed to live before the institution of government, has been called the state of nature, to distinguish it from the political state, which is an artificial thing. In the state of nature, supposing it to take place, there would be society, because man is a social being ; but there would also be perfect freedom, equality, and independence, and men would be subject to no law, but the law of God ; which, however, if they could know it, and were willing to obey it, would make the state of nature very happy, and render human government unneces- sary. But men, being liable to ignorance and er-
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ror, and much inclined to wickedness, would find the state of nature exposed to great inconveniences, "which could be prevented in no other way, than by establishing government, subordination, and human laws. — The state of nature is not wholly an imaginary thing. Independent nations, who acknowledge no superior but God, are in a state of nature with respect to one another. And a number of persons, mutually independent, thrown by .shipwreck into a desart island, would at first be in the state of nature ; though, no doubt, they "would soon find it necessary to make regulations •which would introduce a sort of government.
677. Human rights, as vindicated by laws, have been divided into perfect, imperfect, and external. Those are called perfect rights, which, being ne- cessary to the ejirisie?ice of society, may be vindi- cated by force, or by legal prosecution. Such is our right to life, to health, to property, to re- putation, to liberty : whence there is an obligation on other men, not to take our life, hurt our bo- dies, invade our property, deprive us of liberty, or injure our reputation. — The rights called, in con- tradistinction to the former class, imperfect, are necessary to the happiness of society, and in them- selves most sacred, but cannot be vindicated by force, or by legal prosecution. Such is a bene- factor's right to the gratitude of the person to 'whom he has done good ; the poor man's right to charity j and the right which all men have to the
CHAP I. MORAL SCIENCE. 89
common offices of humanity. It has been question- ed whether these be properly called impeiject ; and whether they be rights at all. Not having time to enter into controversy, I shall only say, that the c()mmo?i use of language will warrant their be- ing denominated rigJtts ; and that the word imper^ fecty as here applied and explained, can lead into no mistake. Those have been called external rights, which, though in some respects hurtful in society, are yet vindicated by the law, in order to prevent greater evils. Such is the miser's right to that money which he hoards up to the injury of his re- lations, the community, and the poor. And such is the right, which a creditor may have to exact ri- gorous payment from an unfortunate debtor.
678. Rights have also been divided into alien- able and unalienable. The former may be trans- ferred to others, and when transferred may be useful : such is our right to property. The latter cannot be transferred ; and, though they could, would be of no use : such is our right to life, to health, to innocence, to the performance of moral and religious duty. These unalienable rights we are not only entitled, but bound in conscience to maintain. — Rights are also divided into natural and adventitious. The former belong to all men, in consequence of their being men ; the latter belong to men on the supposition of their being placed in. certain circumstances, and having made certain ac- quisitions. The duties correspondent to the former
90 ELEMENTS OP PART III.
are, ' hurt nobody ; do all the good you can : ' the duty answering to the latter is, * give every * man his own.' — Adventitious rights are subdi- vided into original and derived. When a man, by some lawful deed of his own, acquires a right to something, to which nobody had a right before, this is original adventitious right. When a man derives his right from another who formerly had it, this is derived adventitious right. Examples of both will be given by and by.
679. The chief of these adventitious rights is property ; which may be defined, the right of pos- sessing and using a thing, and of excluding others from the possession and use of it. The origin of property may be explained as follows. — All the things in this world may be reduced to three classes, rational, irrational, and inanimate. Of rational beings, for reasons formerly given, it is unlawful to make property, so as to buy or sell them, or give them away into the absolute disposal of another. Inanimate things may be made property of; be- cause without them we could not subsist ; and be- cause they would be useless, if we and other ani- mals did not use them. Irrational animals may also be appropriated both for labour and for food; pro- vided it be done in such a manner as to promote the good of man, who is the chief inhabitant of this world, without doing injury to them.
680. To be a little more particular on this last point. Animals that would destroy us if they could
CH^\P I. MORAl. SCIENCE. 91
we have a right to destroy in self-defence. To many others of a mikler nature our protection is a great benetit, and death, with little or no pain, is a less misfortune than a lingering death would be* The endless multitudes of some irrational creatures, as of certain sorts of fishes and fowls, are a proofi that they were intended by the Creator for food to man and other animals. For that one animal should be supported by preying on another of a different species, is agreeable to the general eco- nomy of nature : even those that feed on grain or grass cannot devour either, or quench their thirst with water, without swallowing living things, which must all die before that grass, grain, or water can be converted into aliment. And in many situations, as in barren islands, large towns, and sea-voyages, men could not be supported without animal food. To which we may add, that if the usual slaughter of animals for food were to be discontinued, they would soon multiply to such a degree, as to become an intolerable nuisance, both to mankind and to one another ; and whether we used them for food or not, we should be obliged in self defence to destroy them. But let it be re- membered, that they are percipient beings, and ought to be treated with no unreasonable or avoid- able rigour, and to suffer as little pain as may be ; and wJien we have occasion to kill tlicm, we ought to do it, if possible, in an instant. >Such a death, to animals which do not know tliat tliev arc to
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die, and cannot even conceive what death is, and have nothino^ to fear in consequence of it, can hardly be called an evil. It does not clearly ap- pear, that the use of animal food was permitted to the antediluvians. The first grant that we read of with respect to it was made to Noah after the flood ; whereas the use of herbs, and fruit, for food, was granted immediately after man was created. See Genesis i. 29. and ix. 3.
681. All things are at f.rst in a state of what has been called negative community : in other words, if men were living in the state of nature, every man at Jirst would have a riglit to every thing, and no man would have a right to exclude another from the use of any thing. This is what Cicero means when he says, in the beginning of his discourse on Justice (De Off. i. 7.)» -S'ww^ auiem jprivata nulla naturd. In this state we are at pre- sent, with regard to those things which are com- mon, and cannot be appropriated as air and light. But with respect to other things, men could hard- ly remain in this state for a single day, because property must soon be acquired, in the article of food at least. Now original property may be ac- quired in two ways, by occupancy, (occupationej^ and by accession. Observe, that original property is that which a man makes his own by some law- ful action, and which he derives not from any former proprietor.
682. Occupancy is the act of seizing on some-
CHAP. r. MORAL SCIENCE. 93
thing which belongs to nobody, and of seizing on it in such a way as to shew that he or she who seizes intends by so doing to make it his or her own. If I find a thing which has no owner, I make it my own by seizing on it. If I, with other independent persons, were thrown by shipwreck into a desart island where there was plenty of ripe fruit, I should make myself the proprietor of some part of that fruit by seizing on it, or by climbing a tree, or otherwise exerting myself, in order to get it : and if, on coming down from the tree, I were to be assaulted by another who had done no- thing, and to have my fruit taken from me, it would be injustice, and a violation of property. Those things may be made property of which may be exhausted by use and improved by labour. AVater, air, and light, are not things of this kind, and therefore cannot be appropriated, but remain always in a state of negative community : your right to them is as good as mine, and mine as good as yours. Where water is exhaustible and improveable, as in towns and very dry climates, it may be appropriated and bear a price. And where running water is valued on account of the fishes that are in it, it may b^ bought and sold in like manner.
683. Property in food, being at all times neces- sary, must take place even in the rudest forms of society. That would probably be appropriated first which is most easily come at, as the fruit of
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trees and bushes, and otlier vegetables ; then per- haps men would think of preying on beasts, and fishes, and fowls ; and in many countries this must have been their first provision, and conse- quently, hunting, fishing, and fowling, their first employments. Aftervv-ards, finding that a provi- sion of animal food might be secured ibr some length of time, by bringing the more tractable animals together, and keeping them in flocks and herds, men would betake themselves to pasturage in countries where it was practicable. And this we learn, from tlie history of the patriarchs, to have been one of their earliest vocations.
6S4. In a good soil and climate, the digging of the ground, and the rearing of useful herbs, would no doubt be practised in the beginning of society, both as a recreation and as a profitable art. But agriculture, in a more enlarged sense of the word, as it depends on several other arts, especially those of working in wood and metal, could hardly take place, till after those arts were invented. And the appropriation of land, or territory, except for the purpose of self defence, in order to keep ene- mies at a distance, would hardly be thought of till after the establishment of agriculture. In Genesis, we find the patriarchs moving from place to place with their flocks and herds, for the convenience of pasture, and claiming property in wells, because they had dug them before they thought of mak- ing property of the soil. For the countries in
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 95
\vhich they sojourned were at that time thinly in- habited ; and, though productive of grass, were rather deficient in water. In many parts of the east the herbage is still said to be in common, on account of its abundance, and the comparative fewness of the people.
685. To what has been said of the origin of agriculture, it is no objection, that one of Adam's sons was a tiller of the ground. For the condi- tion of the antediluvians must have been so dif- ferent from that of all other men, that in a matter of this kind we cannot argue from the one to the other. Their lives were much longer than ours ; they probably derived their knowledge of the most necessary arts from the first man, who was no doubt in many respects enlightened by inspiration; and probably the earth was more easily cultivated, and the seasons milder, in those early days, than they have been at any time since. This we know, that after the flood the life of man was exceeding- ly shortened.
686. Some labours instantly repay the labourer. He who digs a cave, or builds a hut, enjoys the shelter of it, to which his labour gives him a right, provided he has not encroached on an}- body. Other labours do not immediately repay the la- bourer : it is autumn that compensates the toils of the spring. Now man is made for labour; and to it must have recourse for recreation, if he is not driven by necessity ; for without it he cannot be
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cither happy or healthy : and the earth and other things require labour to make them useful ; and "vve are prompted by reason and foresight to pro- vide for future as well as to remove present ■V'ants. And hence mankind would in time learn to lay claim, not only to present use, but also to permanent property ; not in moveables only, and other artificial things, but also in the soil or terri- tory.
687. Permanent property, when acquired, con- tinues till the owner relinquish it, or sell it, or give it away. If given away, or sold, it becomes per- manent in him to whom it is sold or given ; if re- linquished, it again becomes common, and falls to the first occupant as before. A man's children, if the first witnesses of his death, are naturally the first occupants of the property he has left ; and the municipal laws of all enlightened nations allow them to be his natural heirs. From a passage in the history of Abraham (Gen. xv. 2, 3.) it would appear, that in those early times when a man died childless, his servant (perhaps his chief ser- vant) became his heir ; probably, because being present at his death, he was of course the first oc- cupant of the property left. Of the reasonable- ness of admitting the validity of testaments, I shall Juive occasion to speak afterwards.
68S. From the view of things now given, it has been supposed by some authors, that the pro- gress of human society, from rudeness to refine-
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 97
ment, consists of four periods or stages : that, in the first, men lived by hunting or fishmg, or on such fruits and plants as the earth produces with- out culture; in the second, by pasturage ; in the third, by both these, in conjunction with agricul- ture ; and, in the fourth, by all these, in conjunc- tion with commerce, which gives rise to arts and sciences, and every other elegance of life. In some countries, particularly our own, this may have happened, but could not in all : some being so barren as not to admit of agriculture ; many so peculiarly situated, as to be incapable of commerce with the rest of the world ; and some so destitute of territory, and so beset with the sea, ^s to ob- lige the natives, from the beginning, to live by fishing, or practise commerce. Examples will readily occur to those who are conversant in his- tory and geography.
689. Of original property a man may occupy as much as he has occasion for, provided he do no injury to others : and the same rule, a little ex- tended, may determine the limits of occupancy^ where states or nations are the occupants. If one man, or a few men, were to land in a desart island, it would be unreasonable that they should appropriate the whole, unless the whole were ne- cessary to supply their wants. But men, acting as the servants of a nation, might, in the name of that nation, or of its sovereign, take possession of
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the whole, unless it were very extensive ; because the government which they serve may send co- lonies to people it, or in self-defence may find it necessary to hinder foreigners from settling in it. As to the right which some nations have assumed, of exterminating or driving away the people of any country, that they might have room to settle in it ; it is just such a right as my neighbour's family have to murder or drive me out of my house that they may have it for themselves. The instance of Joshua taking possession of the land of Canaan is no objection to this principle, as will appear after- wards.
690. Some things, when appropriated, belong not to any one individual, but to a society. Of this kind, in the Roman law, are, bona imiversita- tum, property belonging to communities ; as market-places, public halls, public walks, and such lands as may be bought by the community, or given to it. Of this kind also are, what the Ro- man lawyers called res sacras, as temples ; 7^cs sa?ictas, as the walls of a city ; and res religiosas, as the sepulchres of particular fiunilies. These were improperly termed res miUius, things belong- ing to nobody. It is true they belong not to any individual, but they are the property of certain communities or societies. Highways and public bridges are, by the civil law, considered as the property of the state : with us, they are supposed to belong to the king, as the representative of the
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 99
t^tate ; and hence we call the public road the king's iiighway.
691. It is a maxim in the civil law, Quod nuU'ms est. Jit occiipantis : what belongs to nobody, be- comes the property of that person who seizes on it. But in most of the modern monarchies of Europe the maxim is, Quod nulUus est. Jit domini regis^ Things found, when the owner cannot be disco- vered, belong, by the law of nature, to the finder or occupant ; but on this right of property the laws of different countries have laid different sorts of restriction. The Jews srave found treasure to the owner of the ground in which it was found j the Roman law gave it sometimes to the finder, sometimes to the landlord, and sometimes to tlie public treasury. In Great Britain it has commonly been considered as the property of the king ; and formerly it was criminal not to give him notice of it when found j but now he never claims- it, be- cause it is not worth his while, and so it remains with the finder. How the king should have a claim upon it will appear afterwards, when we come to speak of those feudal institutions which gave rise to the modern monarchies of Europe.
692. When a man throws away his property, or neglects it so as to give reason to believe that he does not mean to reclaim it, the first occupant has no doubt a right to it. In commercial coun- tries the law commonly fixes a time, before which, if a man does not claim his property, having it in
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his power to do so, he is supposed to have rehn- quished it, and loses his right by what is called prescription. The terms of prescription are dif- ferent in different countries, and with respect ta different sorts of property. Many corporations and individuals enjoy their estates by prescription ; that is, the law permits them to erijoy those things now, because their predecessors had possessed them undisturbed for many years. This is not unreasonable. Many things happen, by which charters and original grants may be destroyed ;^ and if a man and his forefathers have enjoyed an estate undisturbed for many years, it is presumed that no legal objection can be made to his right,, and consequently that his right is good. If ob- jections have been made from time to time, ac- cording to the established forms of law, that will alter the case. A tradesman may by prescription lose his claim against his debtor : that is, as the law stands at present, if he does not present his bill for payment within five or six years after it falls due. This too is reasonable. It imposes no hard- ship on the creditor to oblige him to present his bill ; and it prevents claims from being brought against the debtor of so old a date as that he can hardly know whether they be just or unjust. — Sa much for occupancy, the first way of acquiring; original property. See §681.
693. The second way is by what is called ac^ cession ; by which we acquire the original pro;-
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 101
perty of something, in consequence of its being strictly connected with another thing which be- longs to us. Of these accessions the lawyers enumerate several. The proprietor of money lent is entitled to the interest of it, and the owner of a tree or a cow, to the fruit or the calf: this is call- ed fri(ctus. He who buys a growing wood is proprietor of all the additional increase of the trees : this is termed incrcmoitum. Another is denominated alhivio ; when ground is by a river brought over from th€ proprietor on the one side to the proprietor on the other. If this be done gradually, it is properly accession, because the former owner might have prevented it ; but if a large piece is brought over at ouce, it seems rea- sonable, as such a thing could be neither foreseen nor prevented, that the proprietor should not lose his right. New islands sometimes rise in seas and rivers. If the sea or river belonged to any person or people, the new island also belongs to that per- son or people : if this was not the case, the new island may be appropriated by occupancy ; unless the neighbours have reason to think they may be in danger from foreigners getting into it ; in which case the right of self defence will justify their in- terposing, in order to obtain an equitable settle- ment.— Other accessions are mentioned by the names of commixtiOi conjicsio, specification &c. every question relating to which may be solved by any person of common sense.
102 ELEMEiJTS QF PART IIi;
694. The sea was mentioned as property ; ab- surdly, it may be thought, as that should be open to all the world. And this is in general true ; thou2jh the same rii^ht of self-defence mav autho- rise exceptions. A maritime people have an un- doubted rig-ht to hinder from coming within a certain distance of their coast foreigners suspect- ed of hostile purposes ; as well as those, who, by fishing, would deprive the natives of part of that provision to which nature gave them right; for that to the fishes found on our coast, for example, oz/r people have an exclusive right, will hardly be denied ; unless there be such plenty as may serve others as well as ourselves. Contraband adventu- rers too may be prohibited from approaching too near, on pain of forfeiting their cargoes.
695. The right of property comprehends these five rights. First, the right of possession : se- condly, the right of using : thirdly, a right to ex- clude others from possession and use ; for, with- out this, tlie two former rights would be nothing: fourthly, the right of recovering our own when lost : and fifthly, the right of transferring what is alienable. The duties and obligations correspond- ing to these rights are obvious and universally un- derstood.
696. I come now to the second class of adven- titious rights (see § 678), which are derived from some deed of a former proprietor. They are di- vided into personal and real. A personal derived
GHAP. r. IHORAL SCIENCE. 103
right terminates in some person : thus a master has a personal right to the service of him whom he has hired ; and thus a creditor may be satisfied with a personal or general security from his debtor, as a bill or a bond, without demanding a right, by a pledge or otherwise, to any particular part of the debtor's goods. These personal rights are real m one sense of the word, that is, they are not ficti- tious, but genuine. But, in contradistinction to these, those derived rights have been called real which terminate not in a person, but in some thing j for the word real (in barbarous Latin realis) is de- rived from res. If I have lent money to a man who gives me some part of his goods, in the way of pledge, to be kept by me if the debt is not paid, I am said to have a real right.
697. There is a derived real right to partial pro- perty, and a derived real right to full property. In the former case, one is proprietor along with an- other, or with others ; in the latter, one is sole proprietor. The following are examples of de- rived real rights to partial property. First bo7ia Jide pussessio. AVhen a man innocently becomes possessed of what belongs to another, as in the case of finding what is lost, he is a presumptive proprietor, a bona Jide possessor, and has a right to keep what he has found from every person but the owner j who, on receiving it back, is bound to indemnity him for any trouble or expence he may have incurred in preserving it, and in finding
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out the person whose property it is. If the finder have received benefit from it, let him make the owner an amicable compensation; if it have pe^ rished throus^h no fault of the finder, he cannot be liable in damages. There is no difficulty in de- termining any case that may be supposed to occur in a matter of this kind.
698. Secondly, the right of entail; or that Tight which one may have to a thing, an estate for example, after a certain number of years are past, in which case one is said to have the right m re- •version ; or after the death of certain persons, in which case one is said to have it in remainder. One may leave one's property, or give it away, to an- other ; or in the event of his death, or not perform- ing conditions, to a second ; or in case he should die, or not perform conditions, to a third, and so forward ; and every one of these persons has a right of entail. Or a man, disposing of an estate of his own acquisition, may leave it for so many years to one person, for so naany subsequent years to another, for so many more to a third, &c. Such disposals are in general not unreasonable, as the right of making them results from the very nature of property : but municipal law may limit such rights where the public good seems to require it. There is another sort of entail very common in this country. A man possessed of an estate in land, who can prove that he has no debt, may, if iie pleases, by a deed called an entail, executed
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 105
according to certain legal forms, settle that estate upon his heirs, in such a manner as to make it impossible for them to diminish it. So that he, who inherits an entailed estate, cannot have credit to borrow more money than he can satisfy his cre- ditors that he can pay during his life, or that his heir can pay without encroaching on the inheri- tance. Such entails lay a restraint on luxury, and secure the perpetuity of estates as far as that can be done by human policy; but they throw incum- brances in the way of private business, and seem to be rather detrimental to a commercial nation. And it often happens, in consequence of these en- tails, that the younger children of people of for- tune are poorly provided for.
699. A third derived right to partial property is jus empliyteuticum^ or the right of holding in fee, or, as it is sometimes called in Scotland, in Jeu : which takes place, when a man possesses as his own a certain improveable thing, as a piece of ground, on paying a yearly tribute to his superior, that is to the person from whom he derives his right. It differs from a lease, which gives one the use of a house or piece of ground for a limited time only. The holder in fee is the proprietor of what he holds; and may sell it to another ; though he is commonly subject to some restrictions with re- spect to the mode of alienation. The ancient and technical name of this sort of right is derived from the Greek z^(pvTiveiv, to plant or ingraff. Anciently,
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it seems, this tenure was, and indeed it is stilJ, found to be a good encouragement to the cultiva- tion of barren ground. A man who possesses a field as his own, and knows he may dispose of it to advantage when he has improved it, willingly incurs the expencc of improvement ; which he who holds by lease, unless it be a very long one, is in ordinary cases under little or no temptation to do. To the truth of this remark, many fine fields in this neighbourhood bear testimony. In the memory of persons not much older than I am, most of them were wild heath, or watery and rocky desart.
700. A fourth derived right to partial property is, pig?nis, and a fifth is hypotheca. When, as a se- curity for a debt, a certain piece of goods is put bv the debtor into the hands of the creditor, to be kept by him till the debt is paid, this is pignus or pledge. When either the law, or a deed of the debtor, transfers to the creditor, as a security for a debt, not the property itself, but a legal right to some part of the debtor's property, this is hypo- theca ; and is sometimes in the Scotch law termed hypofhec, as in French it is hypotheque : the Eng- lish word mortgage comes near it in signification, but is not the same. If in Scotland a farmer be- come bankrupt, his landlord has a hypothec on his crop for payment of the rent ; that is, may insist, without ranking himself among the other creditors, that as much of the crop shall be given
Chap. r. moral science. 107
him as will pay the full rent of that crop. In like manner, house-carpenters, and ship-wrights, have a hypothec on the house or ship repaired, for the materials and other charges of reparation ; and shipmasters, on the cargo for their freights. Pledges and hypothecs being real rights, the law- considers as preferable to personal ones. They are better securities for the payment of debt, than bills or bonds.
701. A sixth derived rlglit to partial property is called servitus, or servitude ; which is a right to some small use of another's property, or to some influence over it. Thus, in the country, I may liave a right to drive my cattle to water through a neighbour's field ; and in a town, if I am building a house, I may have a right to fasten some of the beams in my neighbour's wall ; and he may have a right to prevent my building so near or so high, as to make his house dark or unhealthy. The Roman law divided servitiitcs into urbana- and nistico'.
702. The last of these derived rights to partial property that I shall niention is Jeodum, or the right of holding in Jief, that is, of possessing an estate as one's own, on condition of rendering ho- mage and personal service to the superior. This sort of tenure was introduced by those nations, who in the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries, came} from the northern parts of Europe, overturned the Roman empire, pnd established themselves in
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France, Spain, 'Italy, and the other countries which they conquered. They were called by different names, Goths, Huns, Vandals, Franks, Normans, &:c. but seem originally to have been the same people ; or at least to have v^ery much resembled one another in manners, laws, and government. They left their own countries, probably because they found them uncomfortable, and had heard that in the southern parts of Europe the neces- saries of life might be more easily obtained, and in greater abundance ; and actuated too, perhaps, by a spirit of ambition and conquest : and whole nations of them emigrated at once, without any view of ever returning. Such emigrations were in former times not uncommon. Caesar * gives a particular account of a projected emigration of the Helvetii-, which he opposed, from an apprehen- sion that they would molest the Roman province, and some other nations in friendship with Rome ; and having defeated them in several battles, and killed two hundred and fifty thousand of them, compelled the remaining hundred and ten thousand to return to their own country. And about fifty years before this period, the Cimbri and Teutones emigrated from the northern parts of Germany, with a view to settle in the Roman province, or in Italy, and were overthrown by Caius Marius, with a slaughter that amounted almost to final extermi- Bation.
* Bell. Gall. lib. 1.
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 109
703. But to return to the snbverters of the Roman empire : they, like their predecessors in emigration, were a bold and hardy race of men, lovers of liberty and independence, and fond of military enterprize. When they had conquered a country, their plan was, not to destroy the natives, but to settle among them, and introduce their own laws and customs. To their commander, who at first was chosen by them, and afterwards became their king, they made a present of all the con- quered territory, on condition of his dividing it amoncr them ; which he did in the followins^ man- ner.
704. He retained as much of it as was thousfht sufficient for the support of his dignity ; and what he possessed he held of no superior. It was, therefore, property of that sort which afterwards came to be called allodial ; from two northern words, all, which signified then what in our lan- guage it does now, and odh, property. The rest of the conquered territory he divided among the officers of his army, who were afterwards consi- dered as nobility, and who held their lands of the king, and held them as their own, on condition of rendering him personal service, and attending him in war, at their own charges, when summoned for that purpose ; all which they swore to perform, declaring themselves at the same time his men, homines ; whence was derived the barbarous La- tin word homagium, and oiu' English term /'e-
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mage. This sort of tenure was called feodum, fend, and by corruption j^z^r/; from two northern words, /ee, reward, and oo'/z, property; which in- timated, that these nobles held their lands in pro- perty as a reicard for military service. And hence the government, laws, and customs, introduced by these people, are called feodal, or feudal.
705. The nobility of a feudal kingdom were the king's immediate vassals ; a word which did not signify slaves, but persons who held their lands of a superior, from whom they were supposed to derive them. The nobles had also their vassals, who, in after times, and in some countries, were called armigert, armour-bearers, or csqidres, bear- ers of shields ; which last term comes from the French escii (probably from scutum) or ecu, which formerly signified a shield : and the esquires held their lands, each of his immediate superior, and by the same feudal tenure, according to which their superior held his lands of the king. Thus the whole conquered territory was divided among the conquerors ; and the king, on summoning his nobility to war, was instantly attended by them, and they by their vassals the esquires, and these by their vassals (for the greater esquires had their vassals, as well as the nobles) ; so that all the mi- litary part of the nation was in arms at once. No plan of policy could, in those days, be better con- trived ibr securing a conquest. And European nations, who had not been subdued by the north-
CHAP I. MORAL SCIENCE. HI
ern warriors, adopted in process of time the same policy ; either because they admired the wi-^^dom of it, or because they wished to be liV? their neighbours. Thus the feudal government became almost universal in Europe. Into England it was first introduced in its full extent, about seven hun- dred and twenty years ago, by William the Con- queror, who brought it from his own country of Normandy.
706. All human institutions are liable to change. The feudal system soon became a different thing from what it had been originally. Arms being, in the opinion of these people, the only honour- able profession, the lower orders of men, includ- ing husbandmen and artificers, were not permitted to be soldiers, and were really slaves, thougl: the condition of all was not equally servile. The nobles at the same time were growing more and more powerful. Their lands at first were held during the king's pleasure, and their titles of ho- nour were only for life : but both lands and titles became hereditary ; and certain offices of great power and profit were held in the same manner ; as, in Scotland, those of high constable, earl ma- rischal, high admiral, &c. And then, by lega- cies, lucrative marriages, and other lucky inci- dents, some of the nobility acquired so great wealth and influence, each having a separate jurisdiction within his own territory, that they began to con- sider themselves as almost eoual to the kinq; liim-
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self; which made them regardless, both of him and of the authority of the law. The history of those times contains, for some centuries, little more than contests between the kings and nobles ; the former striving to regain the privileges they had lost, or imprudently given away ; and the lat- ter endeavouring to secure advantages, to which, because they had long enjoyed them, they thought they had a good right. Circumstances, however, some of which will be mentioned hereafter, con- curred at last to better the condition of the com- mon people, to enlarge men's notions on the sub- ject of liberty, to repress the insolence of the nobles, and to strengthen the authority of the kings and of the law. And thus, the feudal sys- tem was at last broken down, in some countries later, in others earlier. But, to this day, feudal laws, feudal manners, and feudal language, pre- vail more or less in almost every country of Eu- rope.— So much for derived rights to partial pro- perty.
707. A derived right to full property (see 5 697) may take place in these four ways — First, at the death of the former proprietor, and te^VA his consent ; — secondly, at his death, and independ- ently on his consent : — thirdly, during his life, and \xith his consent ; — fourthly, during his ife, and, independently on his cotisent.
70S. In tl]e first way, namely, at the death of the former proprietor, and with his consent, a de-
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE, 113
rived right of full property is conveyed, by testa- ment. A testament is a declaration of our will, made according to certain forms, to this end, that it may have no effect till our death, and may then determine the appropriation of the property we may leave behind us. It would be unwise in a lawgiver to discourage industry ; one great motive to which is, that we may do good to our surviving relations and friends : and it would be cruel to ex- pose men to the inconvenience tliat might attend the alienation of their property during their life. And if the validity of testaments were not allowed, there would in many cases be no sufficient securi- ty for the payment of the debts of the deceased ; which, as life is uncertain, would be injurious to every man's credit. That testaments should be valid, is therefore most reasonable ; and is admit- ted by the laws of all polite nations. Whether they derive their validity from natural or civil law, is a question with which men of theory may amuse themselves, but is not material. It is true, that a dead man can have no influence on any of the fur- niture of this world ; but it is equally true, that by the law of nature he has the disposal of his property as long as he has life and reason ; and if so, he may dispose of it before his death, on this condition, that the person who is to inherit shall not have it, nor use it, while the other lives : he might even exact from his heir an oath to this pur- pose, which oath would certainly be binding by
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the law of nature. The forms, according to which valid testaments are to be made, it must be left to the law of the land to determine. They are, ac- cordingly, different in different countries, and as they relate to diflferent sorts of property ; but, in general, they ought not to be, and in this country they are not, very complex, at least with regard to moveables. Forms, however, are necessary, to prevent forgery, and other frauds ; and to give legal authority to those who are to execute the will of the testator.
709. Secondly ; when a man dies intestate, that is, without making a will, the law, independentlij on his consenty determines the succession to his property. This too is reasonable, as well as ne- cessary. For most men know, or may know, the persons whom the law would make their heirs. If a man wish his legal heir to be his real heir, he needs not make a will ; and if he has made none, it may be presumed that this was his wish. A man's natural heirs are his children, or nearest relations, among whom the law of nature would give preference according to the degree of con- sanguinity, without respect to age or sex ; and would provide as liberally for the youngest daughter as for the eldest son. But here municipal laws interpose, and regulate inheritance according to the exigencies of different governments. In repub- lics, where the citizens are supposed to be equal, or nearly so, and where the preservation of this
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 11^
equality tends to the preservation of the govern-* ment, the children of the same father ought all to inherit equally. But in monarchy it is otherwise. (See § 665).
710. Thirdly ; a real right to full property may be transferred during the llfe^ and licith the consent, of the former proprietor, by means of contracts. The Roman law distinguished between contractum and pactum ; limiting the former to matters of commerce, and the latter to other co- venants, to marriage, for example. But in our tongue this distinction is unnecessary. A contract is the consent of two or moie persons, in the same design, mutually expressed or signified, in order to constitute some right and obligation. They are necessary in human affairs; for without them we could neither supply one another's wants in a way equitable to ourselves, nor depend on one another's services. They may be expressed in words, or by any other signs to which the persons concerned agree to give the same meaning. Written con- tracts have this advantage, that, being more with- in the reach of the law, they are more easily en- forced than such as are not committed to writing. These, however, may be equally binding on the conscience. The rights conveyed by contracts are perfect rights (§ 677) ; for the promiscuous vio- lation of them would overturn society. If in themselves lawful, they cannot be annulled but by the consent of the contracting parties ; and some
116 ELEiMENTS OF PART III.
of the more solemn covenants, as marriage, can- not be made null without the authority of the law. Contracts differ from resolutions ; for these, in many cases, we may alter without blame, and they confer no right on others. They differ also from those promises which, whether declared to be con- ditional or not, are universally understood to be such. A man promises to come to me to-morrow ; but death, sickness, and many other accidents, will justify his not coming ; a man promises to leave me a legacy ; but my misbehaviour, or a change in his circumstances for the worse, may excuse his not doing it. However, it is the duty of every man to avoid rash promises, to take care not to deceive or disappoint others, and to shun the ap- pearance of fickleness.
711. The validity of contracts may be affected, first, by the imderstanding, and, secondly, by the will, of the contractors, and, thirdly, by the mat- ter of the contract. First, by their understand- ing. A contract implies consent ; and consent im- plies the use of reason, and some knowledge of the nature of those things in regard to which the x:onsent is given. To fit a man for managing his own affairs, a certain maturity of age is necessary. What that is, and how far the validity of contracts may be affected by the contractor's immaturity of age, it belongs to human laws to determine. With us, minority ceases, and a man is supposed ca- pable of managing his own affairs, when the twen-
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 11?
ty- first year is completed ; but a private person, from prudential considerations, may prolong for some years the minority of his heir ; and an act of parliament may shorten that of the heir of the crown, and make him capable of legally discharging all the functions of royalty at eighteen, or even earlier. By the civil and Scotch law, males before fourteen, and females before twelve, can do no- thing in their own affairs, which the law holds to be valid ; but their parents, or, if these are dead, their guardians, act for them : and, during this period, they are said to be in the state of pupillarity. After these years, and till they be one-and twenty, they are minors ; and, while they are so, may, if their parents be dead, choose curators to manage their business, unless curators have already been appointed for them by their father.
712. With respect to marriage, and the age at which it may be legally contracted, the laws of different countries differ greatly. In Scotland, minors may marry without the consent or know- ledge of either parents or guardians ; and mar- riage contracted even by pupils becomes valid, if the parties agree to live together after their minori- ty commences. The English law resembles the Roman with regard to marriage. In England, all marriages, celebrated without the regular publica- tion of banns in the parish church, where either of the parties, not being a widow or widower, is under the age of twenty-one, and celebrated with-
5 IS ELEMENTS OP PART III.
out consent of the father, or, if lie is dead, of the mother and guardians, — are mil], and the ch^klren of such marriage illegitimate. If the consent of the motiier and guardians be unreasonably with- held, the matter may be determined by the lord chancellor ; but no power can force the father's consent ; or, if he is alive, make up for the want of it. If the law of England be too rigid in this particular, as some think it is, that of Scotland is undoubtedly too little so. In this particular, how- ever, the English law is easily evaded. If the per- sons who wish to marry can make their escape in- to Scotland, and get the nuptial ceremony per- formed there, though within half a mile of the English border (a thing often, and Avith no great difficulty accomplished), the marriage, in the judg- ment of the British legislature, is valid. Surely, either the English law with respect to legal mar- riage is wrong ; or to tolerate, in this way, the evading of it, is mere mockery of legislation.
713, How far imprudence or mistake may in- validate contracts, is in general well enough un- derstood, though not easily expressed in few words. One thing is clear, namely, that all fraud ought to be discouraged. Contracts, made with idiots, with mad men during their phrensy, or with drunken men when the drunkenness is apparent, ought not to be valid ; because, without a fraudulent pur- pose, nobody would transact business with such a person. In the case of drunkenness, however.
CHAP. I, :VIORAL SCIENCE. 119
there may be exceptions to this rule. All drunk men are not equally incapable of managing their affairs ; and all sober men are not equally acute in discerning the state of another man's mind. And there are some contracts, marriage, for example, which ought to be binding even upon drunk men, and in fact are so. Let those who think there is any hardship in this be careful to keep themselves always sober ; a circumstance of which no man will ever have occasion to repent.
714. Secondly, whatever affects the freedom of the will may affect the validity of contracts. In general, extorted contracts are not valid. But to this maxim there are many exceptions. If an army is forced into a treaty by a victorious enemy (which often happens), that treaty must be sacred- ly kept : if it were not, the evils of war would be remediless and endless. Extorted promises ought to be fulfilled, when by so doing the public good is promoted, and the person who promises not ma- terially injured. If a pirate sets me at liberty on my promising a ransom, I ought to pay that ran- som if I can ; not because he has any right to it, but because, if I did not, he might be more un- relenting to other prisoners. In all cases of this kind, the person tiom whom the promise is ex- torted, ought to consider how far his non-perform- ance may affect, first, the public good, and, se- condly, the dignity of his own character. See the story of Regulus, and Cicero's remarks upon it.
120 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
in his third book on moral duties : see also the tenth chapter of the first book.
715. Thirdly; valid contracts must all be pos- sible and lawful. Contractors, however, may some- times be mistaken with respect to this possibility and lawfulness : if the mistake was unavoidable they should suffer no loss; where fraud appears let it be discouraged. Of inconsistent contracts Avith the same person, the first is null, and the last valid ; with different persons, the first is valid, and the last null. If I hire a servant, at a certain rate of wages, and afterwards agree to give him more, I am bound by the last agreement. If a man marry a second wife while the first is living, the first marriage is valid, the last is both null and cri- minal.
716. Some contracts are intended for the bene- fit of one only of the contracting parties, and these are called gratuitous, and said to be three ; w«w- datum, when one without rew^ard undertakes to do business for another ; commodatiun, when one allows another, gratis, the use of a thing for a certain time ; deposition, when one undertakes, without asking any thing for his trouble, the charge and keeping of some part of another's property. These contracts are common, and the rights and obligations arising from them universally under- stood.
717. Those other contracts, which are intended for the equal advantage of the contracting parties.
CHAP. I» MORAL SCIENCE. 121
have in Scotland been called onerous. The general rule with regard to them is, that equality be pre- served. All the persons, therefore, concerned in them, ought to have the same opportunities of knowing the value of those things in regard to which the contract is made. Now those things have value, which are useful or agreeable ; and the price of a thing is in proportion to the diffi- culty of obtaining it, and the demand there is for it. Difficulty of obtaining a thing may be occa- sioned many ways ; as, if there be but a small quantity of it in the world ; if any accident make that quantity less than ordinary ; if much labour, learning, or genius, be required in the labourer or artist who produces it ; or if the persons employ- ed about it are, according to the custom of the country, obliged to live in an expensive manner *. — Value and price are not the same. For some things of great value bear no price : such are church benefices, which the law forbids to be bought or sold ; and such are those good things which cannot be appropriated, as air and light. On the other hand, things of little use may bear great price, if much desired and rarely met with, as gold and diamonds. Nay, in some savage na- tions, things of no value at all, as red feathers and glass beads, will be thankfully received in ex- change for hogs and other articles of provision. 718. The most ancient and most obvious sort * Hutcheson.
PART n^»
ELEMENTS OF
122
■ u rfpr or the exchange ,f eommacial contracts '.-t^ ^^^^^ .^ ^^
of good, for g'^°'i%^^^";j,3 of barter nwst be ,ort of commerce, cont act, ^^^ ^^.
ample, a th>ng o sma ^^^ ,^^^
bour can spare, as a pair o ^^^ ^ ^j,^„„
dung that I can ^P- t^^^^^/^e dWided, as a of great value, -'"'^^^^^^^ for me to carry ,„,e. Or it "-y^-^J^ toJe, to support me some of my property f.on. .^ i„eonvement
on a journey ; and yet n y .^.^^ „,
- impossible to mo^emyje^,^,^^, ^^^^
a sufficiency of "t^^' J^ ^,^,,efore, with ease, Por managing commeice t .^ ^^^.^^ ^„j
,nd in order to prese ve eq J^^^ ,,„u,ets of selling, lettmg ^"''^","1%^ necessary to contrive the same nature, 1 'f universally desired
some sort of ^'^"f J^f;^ „ay be willing to «„d valued, .-l>'^\^;'Xt he sells, because by take in exchange fo ^^^ ^^^^^ ,, buy.
them he may procu e w a ev .^^_
These -f -^|-t etabout, Ld that a sma they may be easily can e fo, , great
quantity of them ^'^V "^I'l^^^ „„,t also be dur- quautity of other good^^ *ey ^^^,^^^^^^^^ ,
!ble, and of a ^^ ^f J^^f„ or much worn b)
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 123
ous metals of gold and silver, which are accord- ingly used, in all commercial countries, for money J that is, for a general standard of value or price.
719. Money was anciently dealt out by weight : we still speak of a poimd sterling, and of e:ipe?ice and e.vpending money ; words, which in their ety- mology refer to weighing. But this method of reckoning money is both troublesome and unsafe ; for the metal, though sufficiently heavy, may not be sufficiently pure ; and of the purity of metal few people are judges. Coin, therefore, or stamp- ed money, was introduced ; whereof the value is known at sight, and the purity attested by the stamp ; which the public only has a right to affix, or the sovereign acting by public authority: so that he who counterfeits the legal coin incurs the punishment of high treason, because he usurps one of the rights of sovereignty. This at least is the punishment of him who in Great Britain is convicted of coining gold or silver money, which is our true, ancient, and current coin ; copper money not having been introduced into South Britain till the reign of Charles II. By the law of England, the counterfeiter of copper coin is guilty, not of high treason, or of felony, but of a trespass, or misdemeanour, punishable, however, with two years imprisonment, and other inconve- niences.
720. Pure siKer or gold, not stamped into coin^^
124> ELEMENTS OF PART III.
is Cralled bullion. Coin stamped and the same weight of bullion ought to be as near as possible of the same value, the expence of coining being but a trifle. If coin bear a higher value thari the metal is worth, foreign nations would not take our money at the price we pay for it ; and our people would find their account in carrying their goods to a foreign market, where they would re- ceive coin of more intrinsic value than could be had at home. If the bullion were more valuable than the coin : if, for example, a crown-piece melted would sell for more than five shillings, (which is said, but I can hardly believe, to have been the case with our old crown pieces, many of which are affirmed to have been worth five shillings and four pence), people would be tempted to melt the coin, and sell it for bullion, or to send it abroad, and dispose of it there ; and the more cash there was in circulation, the more would government be a loser.
721. Money, like other things, is more or less valuable, as it is less or more plentiful. Since South America was discovered, more than a thou- sand millions sterliug have been imported, in gold and silver, from that country into Europe. The consequence is, that our money has been continual- ly, and indeed rapidly, sinking in its value : that which i^ now bought for twenty shillings would not perhaps have cost twenty pence, three hundred years ago. This means, not that the thing has
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE." 125
become dearer, but that money has become cheaper : a man's labour or food being as valuable then as it is now. The necessaries of life, though their price is not always the same, have at all times the same value nearly ; some differences may indeed happen in a time of plenty or of scarcity, but those are not considerable in a computation that includes a num- ber of years : and seasons of great plenty or great scarcity are not frequent. For seventy years before the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty- two, there was not in North Britain a season of ex- traordinary scarcity.
722. Upon the principle now laid down with respect to the necessaries of life, we may form conjectures concerning the value of ancient money, and of our own money in former times. If, for example, in this country, three hundred years ago, an ordinary ox was sold for five shillings, and if such an ox is now sold for five pounds, we infer, not with certainty, but with probability, that a shilling of that time must have been equal to one of our pounds : as the intrinsic value of the ox, whether used for food or for labour, must have always been nearly the same. And if at Rome, in the time of Augustus, an ox was sold for a cer* tain number of sesterces, we may, by an easy cal- culation, form a conjecture concerning the value of a sesterce of that time in our present money. — In England, in the year twelve hundred, a horse was sold for twelve shillings and five pence j an ox
126 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
for four shiilings and eight pence ; a hog for three shillings ; a sheep tor twenty pence. In Scotland, about the year thirteen hundred, a hen was valued at one halfpenny, or six jjeimies Scotch ; a Scotch pint (two English quarts) of French wine at three pence ; a cow at five shillings ; an ox at six shil- lings and eight pence.
723. Notes or bank bills that pass for money are to be considered as personal securities on trad- ing companies, for the payment of certain sums of gold or silver. The value which the company re- ceive for the note when issued they oblige them- selves to give for it when returned upon them. And in nations where stamped leather or paper is used for money, these things, being in themselves of no value, must be supposed to derive what value is annexed to them from a contract, whereby the public, that is the government, obliges itself to give for them what it received. Money made of the baser metals must be bulky in proportion to the cheapness of the metal. Lycurgus, in order 10 abolish commerce at Sparta, made a law, that all the current coin should be of iron, which in that country was very cheap. Hence the Lacede- monian money vvas so unwieldy that nobody cared to have any thing to do with it, and the little traffic they had was in the way of barter.
724. In commercial society, it is sometimes ne- cessary to fix, for certain commodities, ^ pretium le^ilimuni, or legal price, which cannot be ex-
CHAP, r, MORAL SCIENCE. 127
ceeded. This is particularly the case with those things in regard to which the seller has it in his power to take advantage of the buyer. If they who lend money, that is, who sell the use of it for a limited time, could exact any price, that is, any rate of interest for it they pleased, the lender might in many ways take advantage of the bor- rower's necessity. A certain rate of interest, there- fore, is fixed by law ; and those money-lenders, who exact or accept of more, are liable to a pro- secution for tisury^ which in England is a trespass punishable by a fine not less, I think, than thrice the amount of the sum lent. The interest of mo- ney is greater or less, according to the scarcity or plenty of money in any country ; and according to the orreater or less risk there mav be of insolv- ency on the part of the borrower. In ancient Kome, the sum lent was supposed to be divided into a hundred parts, one of which was payable monthly, as interest; so that the rate was at twelve per cent. In England, under Henry VIII. and Queen Elizabeth, the legal interest was ten per cent, and eight in the reign of James I. Under Charles II. it was reduced to six; and by a statute, still in force, of Queen Anne, it was further re- duced to five per cent, which is the highest interest that the law now allows to be paid or exacted. Money lent on mortgage may be had at four per cent, the security being so good that there is littl« or no risk of losing it j aud a considerable part of
128 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
the mcney lent to government pays only three j9er cent.^ because, while the government lasts, there is no risk at all of this kind.
725. Whether it be lawful to lend money on interest, has been made a question. The canon Iaw% and, as some, think, the law of Moses, de- clare it to be unlawful ; and Aristotle is of the same opinion, because money, being naturally bar- ren, cannot without absurdity be made to breed money. But, in answer to Aristotle, it may be said, that a house is as barren as a shilling ; foi* we never heard of houses breeding houses, or shil- lings breeding shillings ; yet if I were to allow another man the use of my house for a year, it would hardly be equitable to forbid my accepting any rent from him. With the canon law we have not much concern, as protestants deny its authori- ty. And as to the law of Moses, it expressly al- lows interest to be exacted from a stranger, though (for reasons peculiar to the Jewish policy) not from an Israelite. Much profit may be made by the use of money ; to lend it is generally attended with some risk and inconvenience : and \i\ by means of my money lent him, a man get a hun- dred pounds, which without my money he could not have gotten, it is surely as reasonable that he should allow me part of his gain, as that I should give wages to a servant, or pay freight to a ship- master.— To elude the laws relating to usury is, I believe, neither difficult nor uncommon: but usury
CHAP I. MORAL SCIENCE. 129
is SO hateful a thing, that no ma - who regards his character will ever incur the disgrace of it.
726. When a man sets a greater value on a thing than it is worth; because he has had it long; because it has been peculiarly useful to him ; or because he got it from a friend; the price at wiiicli he rates it is called preiium affectionis. If he is to sell it, he ought to let the buver know that he overvalues it ; and then the bargain will be fair. But if I take a liking to any part of a man's pro- perty which he is willing to sell, and if I set a higher value on it than the seller does, or than it is worth, he ought not to take advantage of my fondness or ignorance. Sometimes, by the con- sent of all parties, a sale may be agreed on, which no inequality between the value of the thing sold and the price given shall be allowed to nullify. Such is the sale by auction, where the price is not fixed by the seller, but by the best bidder, who is the purchaser. The Romans called it aiictloy probably because every successive bidder (auget) increases, or raises the price. It was also called a sale 8ub hasta ; because a spear was stuck in the ground at the place where the prceco (or auc- tioneer) took his station. — Of this sort of con- tracts, that are opposed to gratuitous (see §7 6^ 717), and intended for the equal advantage ol the contracting parties, there is a great number la commercial society, as barter, buying and selling, letting and hiring, insurance, partnership, &c. iu-
VOL. II. I
130 ELEMENTS 07^ PA^T lir.
to the detail of which we need not enter, as their laws, to all those who are concerned in them, are well enough known.
727. Contracts are enforced in various ways, by pledges, mortgages, penalties, securities, &c. They are also enforced by oaths. The design of an oath is, not to induce the Deity to be more at- tentivei" or give him any new right of punishing falsehood ; but to impress ourselves with the strongest motives to veracity, by aggravating the guilt of untruth ; perjury, and every other sort of false-swearing, being both dishonest and impious. An oath, being an act of devotion, ought to be administered, and taken, with solemnity. It com- prehends the import of these words. — ^ In thy
* presence I stand, O God of truth : thou know-
* est that what I say is true : if I speak falsely, I
* know that I justly forfeit thy favour, and deserve
* punishment.* In such a declaration, uttered with sincerity, and a clear conscience, can there be any thing unchristian, or prejudicial to society? Surely not. Christians are warranted to swear, in con- firmation of the truth, not only by the laws of all Christian countries, the necessity of the thing, and the many examples of solemn swearing re- corded, without being blamed, nay, with appro- bation, in the Old Testament ; but also, by the example of St Paul, in several parts of his epistles: and, by still higher authority, that of our Saviour himself, who, when adjured by the high priest,
CITAP. U MORAL ^CII^NCE. iSl
condescended to return an explicit and immediate answer ;— ^which, amotig (he Jews, was one form' of administering and taking an oath.
728. That evangelical precept, therefore, 'Swear
* not at all,* either must be understood to refer to T-mnecessary and profane swearing, which in the decalogue is called ' taking the name of God in:
* vain,* or may be thus interpreted.—' Adhere sa
* scrupulously and habittlally to truths that men,
* knowing your veracity, and confiding in it, may
* have no occasion to make you confirm your //e5 or
* no by an oath. ' This whole subject is explained with the grea:test accuracy and perspicuity in the fourth volunrfe of Archbishop Secker*s sermons^ As the obligation of oaths is most sacred, and every sort of disrega;rd to theiti tends to the de- struction of society, all practices ought to incur punishment, which lessen men's reverence for an oath, and for the adorable name of the Supreme Being. Such a practice is common swearing, of "which it is shocking to consider, bow slightly it is animadverted on by th'e law, and how scandalously encouraged by the magistrate j*— for all those crimes the magistrate must be supposed to encourage, which he either perpetrates himself, or against which he I'efuses, of neglects* to put the law in execution. This crime is Wholly inexcusable ; no natural propensity prompts to it ; in his first at- tempts to acquire the habit of it, a man must h^ actuated by affectation, as well as impiety.
132 ELEMENTS OP PART 111.
729. It also tends to lessen the reverence due to oaths, when they are too frequently, and on trivial occasions, exacted ; or when they are ad- minstered, or taken, without due solemnity. In these two respects, I can pay no compliment to the laws and customs of this country. It is, how- ever, just to acknowledge, that, of those who take and administer oaths, there are among us some in- dividuals who know what they are about, and make the spectators ^e/ that they know it. The words of an oath ought to be, and, if the framers of it understand their own language, and have any skill in grammar, always may be, so plain, that the sense cannot be mistaken : and he who swears, and he who administers the oath, should under- stand them in the same sense. If the swearer,, taking advantage of the unavoidable imperfection of language, affix, to any word or phrase of the oath, a meaning w hich he would be unwilling to declare to the world, and which he knows to be different from the intention of the person who ex- acts the oath, and prescribes the form of it ; — this is perjury, of the most dangerous and criminal na- ture ; and as much worse than ordinary false- swearing, as poisoning, which cannot be foreseen or prevented, or in common cases detected, is worse than ordinary murder.
730. Perjuiy being a proof of extreme wicked- ness, and tending, more immediatley than theft, robbery, and many other crimes punishable with
CHAr. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 133
death, to the destruction of society, it may be thoLiffht that in all nations it should be considered as a capital crime. And indeed, if we attend merely to the enormity of the guilt, we could hardly call those laws severe that should punish it in every instance with death. But, were this the case, it might be apprehended, that many persons, called to give testimony on oath, would, from the fear of incurring such a punishment, be too much intimidated to declare their mind freely, and would rather keep out of the way of examination, than appear in the cause of truth and justice. False- swearing, therefore, though nobody pretends to extenuate its guilt, is considered as one of those crimes which in many cases it is sufficient to pu- nish with infamy. In the case indeed of an inno- cent man losing his life, in consequence of the perjury of witnesses, the delinquents ought cer- tainly to be put to death; because they are guilty, not only of wilful murder, and the most audacious impiety, but of entailing, as far as in them lies, infamy on the memory of the sufferer, and an- guish, and perhaps disgrace, on his friends and relations.
731. A strict regard to truth in every thing we say or do is an indispensible duty. All men have a right to expect it from us ; for, without it, speech, instead of a blessing, would be a snare and a curse, and the comforts of social life at an end. On some occasions, however, when we do
13^ £L£MENTS OF PaUT 111.
3iot even pretend to declare the truth, awd where it is not expected from us, as in composing an in- structive 01 amusing fable, there is no deviation from integrity, because we mean no deception, and in fact nobody is deceived : which is also the case in those complimental forms of speech, that are universally kno\vn to express a great deal pore than they niean ; as when we address a man of a certain rank by the title of lord, or subscribe our- selves the humble servants of a person whom per- haps we should not think it incumbent on us to .obey in any thing. In very large towns, too, where people have so numerous an acquaintance, that if they were to admit every visitant, they could have no time to look after their own affairs, it cannot be blameable to deny their being at home, if the phrase conveying the denial be generally understood to me^n nothing more, than that they are not ^t leisure. It \yere better, no doubt, if these deviations from the literal use of language \vere fe\yer; but in complying with a custom, that softens the harshness of refusal, does no harm in society, and i)either offends nor deceives any individual, there can be no great evil.-r-To use the words of deception, in order to do good to the person deceived, may be not only warrantable, but a duty. Were a physician always to tell his patients that they were in danger, when he thought them so, his visits might do more harm than good. Tq quiet a sick person's mind, to pacify a
CHAP. I. : MORAL SCIENCE. 135
madman, to defend the helpless from an enraged adversary, deviations from strict truth, if there be no other way of accomplishing the benevolent pur-- pose, are undoubtedly lawful.
732. It is another great duty in the use of speech, to make it not only pleasing to others, but also profitable ; by giving good advice, correcting error, allaying the violence of passion, enforcing good principles, and discountenancing bad ; by encou- raging the timorous, comforting the afflicted, re- proving in meekness the transgressor ; and always using such words as may neither raise evil thoughts in others, nor give proof of any indelicacy in our- selves. The Cynics of old, and some of the Stoics, maintained, that in words there is no in- delicacy ; that there can be no harm in speaking of any thing that is natural ; and that, if we may speak without blame of any one crime, or any one part or function of the human body, we may, in like manner, of any other. But this is vile sophi- stry *, tending to the utter debasement of man, and founded in the grossest ignorance of human nature and human language.
733. Words may do much harm as well as much good. Many of them not only convey the speak- er's meaning, but also exhibit the disposition of mind wherewith he speaks ; and, in the hearer, not only raise ideas, but stimulate passions : and
* See Cicero de Officiis, I. 35.
156 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
that which either stimulates bad passions in us, or sets an ensnaring example of them in others, is surely no matter of indifference. There are func- tions and parts of our bodily frame which may be signified by two sorts of words ; first, by those that express the meaning and nothing more, and such are the words that anatomists and philoso- phers use ; and secondly, those that express the meaning, together with a sensual and profligate in- clination, or some other indelicacy in him who speaks. Words of this last character are called ob- scene ; and prove the speaker to be equally desti- tute of good principles and good breeding. Words there are too, expressive of crimes, that signify on the part of the speaker either disapprobation, or no disapprobation ; of the former sort are adultery ^ murder ; of the latter, an affair of gallantry, an affair of honour, and those other sneaking circum- locutions, whereby modern profligacy endeavours to confound the distinctions of right and wrong. And among robbers and thieves there •s said to be a similar jargon, to notify certain crimes to those of the gang who have been initiated, and at the same time to insinuate, that to those crimes the speaker has no disinclination, but considers them as tools pertaining to his trade.
734. Fourthly, and lastly (see § 707, 710) ; A derived right to full property may be obtained during the life of the former proprietor, by the force of laws, independently on his consent ; and
CHAP. I, MORAL SCIENCE. 13?
this may happen, in consequence, first, of lawful, and secondly, ot unlawful actions. First, In con- sequence of lawful actions. He who is named the executor of a testament, and in every testa- ment an executor must be named, is, by accepting that office, obliged to pay the legacies and debts of the deceased, as far as the property left is sufficient for that purpose. And he whose business has been managed, in his absence, or during his minority, by friends who had no formal commission to do so, is under an obligation to indemnify the managers, and ratify every contract prudently entered into by them for his advantage. Obligations of this sort are said to be quasi ex contractu^ as if they arose from a contract ; and they are often called quasi-contracts.
735. Secondly, In consequence of unlawful ac- tions. He who does injury is obliged to repair it, or is otherwise punished for it. The doctrine of injury, and reparation of crimes and punishments, forms a most important part of jurisprudence ; but is so extensive, that, considering the shortness of the time allotted to this part of our academical course, and the great variety of subjects that arc still before us, I cannot think myself at liberty to enter, however briefly, into the detail of it. I shall therefore conclude this head with a few miscel- laneous observations ; after referring, for further particulars, to Blackstone's Commentaries on the Laws of England 3 in which not only the English,
138 ELEMENTS OP PART III,
law, but also the principles of general jurispru- dence, are explained with singular ingenuity, pre- cision, and elegance. The jurisprudence of Hut- cheson and Grotius on the law of peace and war, m'dy also be read with great advantage.
736. That to the utmost of our ability we ought to repair any damage we may have done to others, is self-evident : and it is no less evident, that we must not promote our own interest to the detri- ment of another, or if any necessity force us to this, that we ought to make good his loss as soon as it is in our power. Laws prohibiting injury %vould be of no effect, if the injurious were not ob- liged to indemnify those they have injured : and so- ciety would not be safe, i£ they who are inclined to be injurious were not restrained by the fear of pu- nishment. He may be deemed the author of injury, and is liable to be punished accordingly, who has, either by himself, or in compact with others, been instrumental in doing it : but the contrivers, ad- visers, or leaders, in such injury, are the greatest delinquents, and ought, if possible, to be in the first place aninriadverted on. In criminal cases, all the agents are liable to punishment : six persons equally concerned in the murder of one ought all to suffer death ; because equality of guilt requires equality of punishment; and if any one of the six be punished or pardoned, there is no reason why every one should not.
737. Damage, which he had accidentally done
CHAP. i. MORAL SCIENCE. iS9
to another, without any evil purpose, a generous man will repair, if he is able, but can hardly be obliged by law to repair. Yet such damage the law ought not to overlook ; for people, from the fear of consequences, as well as from more liberal motives, should always be on their guard against the commission of injury. Damage, unavoidably, and without injurious intention, done by persons acting, duly authorised, in the service of their country, as by soldiers, constables, magistrates, kc, should be repaired by the community. Damage ,done by free servants, if the master is entirely in- nocent, ought to be repaired by themselves. Da- mage done by slaves, cattle, or dogs, ought to fall upon their owner, if it was possible for him to have foreseen or prevented it. — No provocation should make our enemy cease to be the object of our benevolence. When the injury is repelled, and comjDensated, and we have established our right, and obtained security against like injury from the same person for the future, our animosity towards him ought to be at an end.
738. If the injurious party, notwithstanding re- monstrances, persist in injury, violence may be used to compel him to be quiet, and grant both indemnification for the past, and security against future injury. Hence the origin of just war; which may also be made for the prevention of in- jury, when there is reason to believe that injury is intended, and that nothing but force can prevent
140 ELEMENTS OF PART IJI.
it. Wars are either public or private. The for- mer are undertaken by a state, and in name of the body of a people, or of the sovereign, as the repre- sentative of that people : the latter are those which liave sometimes taken place among private persons. Public wars have been divided into solemn and civil. Solemn wars are formally declared, and authorised by one state against another, or by re- gular societies against pirates, or other avowed and formidable enemies of mankind. Those are called civil wars, which take place between different par- ties in the same community, contending for power, privileges, &:c. and these, of all forms of hostility, are the worst ; as being the most unnatural, the most ruinous, and the most effectually subversive of private and public virtue.
739. Private w-ars between individual men in the state of nature, are nearly in their principle, though not in their extent or consequences, on the same footing with public wars between nations ; for it was already observed, that independent nations are in the state of nature with respect to one ano- ther. Every gentle method should be tried, every reasonable offer of pardon and accommodation made, and a spirit of forgiveness manifested, before men have recourse to measures so violent ; but if these be necessary after all, they are justifiable on the plea of necessity, and the right of self-defence ; a right, which belongs equally to private persons, and to communities ; and which neither these nor
CHAP. I.
MORAL SCIENCE. 141
those can dispense with, or relinquish, without en- dano-ering the existence of the human race. All this is agreeable to reason ; and is besides warrant- ed by those passages of Scripture, that enjoin sub- mission to government, celebrate the virtues of patriotic warriors, or speak without disa}>probation of the military life. Passages of this sort are nu- 'merous in the Old Testament, and may also be found in sufficient abundance in the New. See particularly the eleventh chapter of the epistle to the Hebrews ; the second chapter of the first epis- tle of Peter ; the fourteenth verse of the third chapter of Luke j the tenth chapter of Acts of the Apostles, &c.
740. In the state of nature, men may defend their perfect rights by force, if gentler metods are ineffectual. But in civil society we are understood to iiave committed the right of violent defence to the law and the magistrate ; they being at once more equitable defenders, and more powerful : and therefore, in civil society, legal prosecution takes place of what in the natural state would be force. But if we be in such a situation as to derive no protection from the law or the magistrate, and no aid, or no sufficient aid from one another; as in the case of being attacked by thieves in the night, or by robbers, the right of self-defence justifies oiu repelling force by force. A good man, however, will be tender of the lives of his fellow-men, even of the mqst injurious ; and rutl^er submit to be
142 ELEMENTS 0? PART III.
robbed of such a suin as he can spare, than pnt the robber to death ; but when there is no other alternative than either to kill or be kiHed, or ruin- ed, we owe it both to ourselves and to society, to defend our property and life, though the conse- quences to the aggressor be fatal.
741. It belongs to this place to consider what may be said for and against duels. For them little, I think, can be said, except that they promot6 po- lite behaviour, by making men afraid of one an- other ; and that the abolition of them would be difficult, and might be attended with evil, by fu'r- nishing profligate men with a temptation to assassi- nate. But these are weak apologies. The Athe- nians and Rom-ans were in their better days as polite as we ; much more so, indeed, we must ac- knowledge them to have been, if we take into the account the grossness of their religian, and the purity of ours : yet they were strangers to duel- ling, as well as to those ridiculous notions of ho- nour which give rise to it ; and ft is impossible to mention a single instance of their unpolitenes?, which duelling, if it had been fashionable among them, would have ]>revented. Nor do we find, in our days, at least among the enlightened part of mankind, that persons who do not fight duels are less distinguished for elegance of behaviour than those that do : with some exceptions, the contrary will perliaps be found to be the case. And it is KOt very honourable to human nature to supposr,
€HAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 143
that nothing but the fear of death, or of disgrace, can prevail on persons in the higher ranks of life to practise the common rules of good nature and civility.
742. That it is difficult to prevent duelling I shall be willing to admit, when I have seen any legislature attempt the prevention of it, seriously, and yet unsuccessfully. But this has not happened as yet, so far as I know. A more despicable mock- ery of legislation there cannot be, than that pre- tended prohibition whereby our law is said to dis- courage it. For surely those laws, or those cus- toms established in defiance of law, which grant Hot only indemnity but honour to the tranj*gressor, and punish obedience with infamy and ruin, must mean either nothing at all, or nothing but public mischief — ^As to assassination : it is true, that in modern Italy, where duels are rare, it is very com- mon ; but it is impossible to prove, that the infre- quency of the one enormity, occasions the preva- lence of the other. Two or three centuries ago, when the point of honour, in regard to single combat was carried to a very extravagant height, assassinations were in most parts of Europe com- mon to a degree that fills us with horror. In tact, it is not unnatural, that he, to whose mind one species of murder is become familiar without being shocking, should, without great difficulty, be able to reconcile himself to any other. To plead ia behalf of duels, that they prevent assassiaation, is
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not less absurd, than to''plead in behalf of robbery, that it prevents theft.
743. The aim of penal law ought to be to pre- vent crimes, and deter from injury, by the fear of punishment. In most countries where the govern- ment has been of long standing, penal statutes are generally too many and too severe ; and some of them, it is to be feared, (though the law and the magistrate ought to be exempt from passion), even vindictive. One reason may be, that they were made when society was disorderly, and per- haps but half civilized ; the natural consequence of which would be a sanguinary temper in the law- giver, and in the person inclined to injury a degree of fierceness which nothing could intimidate but the apprehension of severe punishment. In some states of society some crimes may be more, and some less prevalent or dangerous than others; and different degrees of legal severity become ne- cessary, according to circumstances. The time was when theft was more dangerous than at present, because the means of securing property were less to be depended on ; and then, to hang a man for stealing a sheep might not be so unreasonable as it would be now. The time now is, when forgery is perhaps more dangerous than at any former pe- riod ; for now men seem to be more inclined to it than formerly ; and now the credit, and conse- ((uently the existence, of commercial nat:ions, would be at an end, if that wickedness were not
CHAP. I. MORAL SCIENCE. 145
most severely punislied : and accordingly, thougli nobody doubts the king's right to remit the pu- nishment due even to this crime, it is not now pardoned, and certainly ought not. — From these considerations it seems to follow, that in every na- tion the penal law ouglit from time to time to be revised, and alterations made in it, according to the change of circumstances.
744. That there ought to be, if it were possible, as many degrees of punishment as there may be of guilt in the criminal, and of danger in his crime, is undeniable. But human wisdom will never be able to regulate this matter exactly ; for, after all that fallible lawgivers can do, some punishments will be too severe, and others too mild. It has been doubted, whether capital punishment be ia any case allowable ; and proposed, that slavery, hard labour, and other severities, should be sub- stituted in its room. That it should be seldom inflicted ; that in general it is more frequent than it ought to be ; and that to the community the labour of convicted criminals might be more serviceable than their death, is readily admitted. But both reason and Scripture seem to declare that some crimes deserve it, particularly murder : * Whoso * sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be ' shed,' is a very ancient law ; and it would not be easy to prove it unreasonable. Severe punish- ments, however, have not always the consequences that one would expect from them 5 when immo-
VOL, IL K
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derately severe, they counteract themselves, be- cause the public humanity refuses to execute them : it is the certainty rather than the severity of pu- nishment, that most effectually restrains the in- jurious.
745. From the prevalence of sensuality, dissipa- tion, gaming, atheism, irreligion, and that unbound- ed licentiousness of the press, which gives almost the same encouragement to the most abominable, and the most useful publications, — capital crimes, and of course capital punishments, are in this coun- try frequent to a most lamentable degree. Yet punishments unreasonably severe cannot be said to be frequent in this country. "Where the letter of the law would authorise them, juries, humanely, and I hope conscientiously, mitigate the offence, or acquit the prisoner ; or judges, and other persons of influence, recommend him to the royal mercy, which, in our time, has never been withheld, ex- cept where the public good required that it should be withheld. — As to slavery, proposed as an ex- change for capital punishment, — it suits not the genius of our people, (See § 612). To see, in every parish perhaps, enslaved convicts, would be an intolerable eyesore to a true Briton. Solitary imprisonment, with hard labour, has been project- ed as a substitute for capital punishment : but it may be doubted, whether that is not worse than death ; and whether, by preying on the spirits of the delinquent, and tainting his imagination, it
CHAP. II. MORAL SCIENCE. 147
might not too often terminate in phrensy and sqlf-* destruction.
CHAPTER II.
OF THE ORIGIN AND NATURE OF CIVIL GOVERN- MENT.
746. Having premised these few things concern- ing law in general, I proceed to consider the origin and nature of civil government, and the laws essen- tial to the several forms of it. (See § 661). Civil government, or policy, or (as it was formerly and more properly called) polity*, ' is human society ' moulded into a certain form by human art.* Different forms of it are found in different nations ; and one form of it is supported by one system of laws, and another by another. The study of po- litics, properly conducted, tends not a little to the improvement of the human mind. It makes his- tory and law intelligible ; enlarges our acquaint- ance with human nature and human affairs ; and qualifies men for rational conversation. In this country it is peculiarly necessary ; because, with- out some knowledge of politics, it is impossible for us to understand that system of government under
* From T«x/T=(«.
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which we live ; the constitution of Great Britain being the most curious, the most complex, and the most excellent, form of human policy, that ever appeared in the world. This is said, not from any blind partiality to it, which, however, might be pardoned in a British subject: all this has been ad- mitted by the most enlightened foreigners. Few foreigners indeed understand it. But those who do, unanimously admire it. That it is perfect, I do not affirm : I know of no work of man that is so. But its imperfections are fewer, and less grievous, than the discontented, the turbulent, and the visionary, are willing to believe ; and their alleged bad con- sequences will, to a candid and intelligent observer, appear to exist rather in the imagination of the theorist than in reality.
747. Man is the only political animal ; that is, the only animal capable of government. Many .sorts of beasts, birds, insects, and fishes, herd to- gether, and take pleasure in one another ; man only has a notion of public good, and legal sub- ordination. Some brutes acquire pre-eminence among their fellows, by superiority of strength ; man alone has an idea of authority, or a right to govern, and of the duties and obligations thence arising. Some animals, as ants and bees, are guid- ed by instinct to live together, and assist one an- other ; and this, by a figure of speech, has been called their government. But in the proper sense of this word, government is an art which one
CHAP. II. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 149
learns in no other way than by studying it : it i;^ the effect of reason, foresight, and moral principle united, and must therefore be pecuHar to rational beings. — In treating of it, I shall consider, first, the origin and general nature of government ; se- condly, the several simple forms of it, and their fundamental laws ; and, thirdly, the structure and principles of that excellent system of policy, the British constitution.
SECTION I. Origin of Government.
748. The origin of government is a subject which may be said to comprehend answers to these two questions. — First, For what reasons, and by what steps is it probable, that men, not subject to government, would think of it, and submit them- selves to it ? Secondly, What may reasonably be presumed to have been the actual origin of go- vernment among men, according to the best lights that may be had from history, tradition, or con- jecture ? — With respect to the first question, it is to be observed, that, before the institution of go- vernment, men would live in what is called the state of nature, perfectly independent, equal, and free. But some would have more strength, more activity, and more wisdom, than others ; and it may be presumed, that they who were conscious
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of their own weakness in these particulars, would look up for advice and assistance to those who were able to assist and advise them ; and would thus, gradually, and voluntarily, confer on them some sort of authority, or lawful pre- eminence. Hence one motive to political union, arising from the diversity of human characters, and from our natural admiration of superior abilities. In respect of abilities, indeed, both of mind and of body, men are born so unequal, and their fortunes, with regard to the acquisition of property, are so different, that a variety of ranks and conditions, in social life, is plainly agreeable to the intentions of Providence, as well as beneficial to mankind.
749. Another motive to political union would arise from the inconveniences of the natural state ; in which men, being fallible, must often mistake their rights, and disagree about them. When this liappens in the political state, the law decides the matter, and the power of government enforces the decision. But in the state of nature, man would jiave nothing but his own strength and caution to defend him from injury ; and of course, when in- jured, would retaliate, which would hardly fail to produce more retaliation, and more injury, and so end in confusion. Suppose him to submit him- self and his cause to an arbiter mutually chosen by liim and his adversary, yet if either party prove re- fractory, the matter was just where it was ; there be. ing no power to enforce the sentence. Hence one
SHAP. 11. § I, lilORAL SCIENCE. 151
source of evil in the natural state, arising from mens mutual independence, and perfect equality with respect to their rights. Of this evil the ob- vious and the only remedy is government, or poli- tical subordination.
750. But men being wicked as well as fallible, the evils of the natural state must be much greater than I have hitherto supposed. We see them in- jure one another in spite of the sanctions of both divine and human law. Remove these, and they would be still more injurious. It is melancholy, but it is nevertheless true, that men are never so apt to throw off all regard to decency, as in the time ot some great public calamity, when cities are overturned by earthquake, or depopulated by pes- tilence ; for then the law loses its power, because the magistrate no longer retains that vigour of mind which is necessary to put it in execution. In short, we may presume the disorders incident to the natu- ral state would be so great, that if it were to be at all, it could not be of any long contmuance. Now as these would arise from the equality and inde- pendence of the members, they could be reme- died in no other way, than by abolishing, or limiting, that equality and independence. Hence the neces- sity ot mens divesting themselves of the freedom of the natural state, uniting in society, appointing a sovereignty, entrusting it with certain powers for the public good, and supporting it in the exercise ©f those powers. And all the members of a poli-
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ticalbody, thus uniting their strength, and acting in one direction, are able to repel injury, and de- fend one another, much more eifectually, than it is possible to do in the state of nature.
751. Though we here set government in oppo* sition to the natural state, we must not call the for- mer unnatural: artificial is the epithet which it derives from the contrast. Man is born naked ; but clothes, though artificial, are not unnatural. Government, being an art useful to man, and in- deed necessary to civilized man, must be agreeable to the intention of Providence, who made man what he is, and rendered him capable of moral and in- tellectual improvement. And those governments that most effectually promote human happiness are to be accounted the most sacred, and the most agreeable to the divine will.
752. All human arts are in some degree imper- fect, and government as well as others : but its ad- vantages greatly overbalance its imperfections. A subject of the best government must give some of his property in the way of tax, to defray the pub- lic expence ; and in certain cases may be obliged to expose himself to danger in defending the commu- nity. But then his connection with government enables him to defend himself and his property at less expence, with less danger, and more effectually, than is possible in the state of nature. His right of punishing injury he must resign into the hands of the magistrate. But this cannot appear a har^-
€HAP. II. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 153
ship to those who consider, that revenge hardens the heart, exposes the soul to the ravage of tem- pestuous and painful passion, and tends to the con- fusion of society ; that to inflict punishment seems to a generous mind to be a work equally torment- ing and debasing ; and that no man is an impartial judge in his own cause. Government promotes be- nevolence, justice, public spirit, security, and the cultivation of arts and sciences. People are gener- ally civilized, in proportion as the arts of govern- ment are understood among them.
753. The independence and equality of men in the natural state, being alienable rights, may be parted with, for valuable considerations. Men quit- ting that state, in order to establish policy, would accordingly part with them ; and either expressly or tacitly enter into a mutual agreement to the fol- lowing purpose. First ; every individual would en- gage to unite himself with the rest, so as to form one community ; whose conduct in matters of pub- lic concern is to be determined by the will of those "who shall be entrusted with the sovereignty. Se* condly ; it must be further agreed, that the govern- ment shall be of some one particular form ; that is, that the sovereignty shall be lodged in the body of the people, which is democracy ; or in the more distinguished citizens, which is aristocracy ; or in one man, which is monarchy ; or that the govern- ment shall be made up, as ours is, of two or moiQ
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of these forms mixed together. For different forms of government are supported by different systems of law; and therefore, till the form be ascertained, it cannot be distinctly known what laws would be expedient. Thirdly : The form being agreed on, they who are entrusted with the sovereignty would become bound to provide for the common interest, and the subjects would be bound to allegiance and obedience. And from this contract would arise the sovereign's right to command, and an obligation on the rest of the community to obey. — Observe, that I here use the word sovereign to denote the supreme power of a state wherever placed ; whe- ther it be in the hands of one, or of many ; whe- ther lodged in the whole people, as in democracy ; or in a senate, as in aristocracy ; or in a king, as in monarchy; or in a king and sen ate jointly, as in the constitution of Great Britain.
754. Observe further, that the foregoing, and some of the following reasonings, are purely hypo- thetical; that is, are founded on the supposition of what rational beings would probably do, if they were to make a transition from the state of nature to that of policy. But these reasonings are not on that account chimerical : for they do in fact lead us to discover the end, the utility, and the funda- mental principles of government. Geometry may be considered as a hypothetical science ; but it is not for that reason the less useful. The geometer does not inquire, whether there be in nature ma-
CHAP. II. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 155
thematical lines, circles, or right-angled triangles; but on the sivpposition that there are or may be, he proves that such and such must be their properties. I do not inquire, whether men ever made such a transition, as is here supposed, from the natural to the civil state; but supposing them to make it, and to make it rationally, and of choice, I say, that they would probably be determined by the views and motives above specified.
155. A community acts in one direction, and as one person; by agreeing that the will of the majo- rity, or of a certain proportion greater than the majority, as two thirds or three fourtlis, shall de- termine the whole. If it were not for this, com- munities could never act but when they are unani- mous ; which in political matters is not often to be expected. — In all just government, the interests of the sovereign and of the people are the same ; public good being the aim of both. Government will soon cease to be just, where an opposite maxim is adopted. Tyrannical governors cannot be happy, because they live in continual fear and danger; and people who licentiously invade the rights of the sovereign, must have an unsettled government, and therefore cannot enjoy security or peace.
756. Men agreeing to quit the state of nature and establish policy, must be supposed to have the good of their children as much at heart as their own. Their children, therefore, have a right to Jhe privileges of their flithers ; unless they declare
1<56 ELEMENTS OF PART Ilf,
when grown up, that they do not acquiesce in the determination of their fathers, but choose rather to relaspe into the state of nature, or to alter the form of government. If the whole or greater part of the community agree in this, it must be done. But if that is not the case, the right of self defence, which belongs to all, and to societies as well as in- dividuals, will authorize the government to lay such restraints on these refractory people, as the public safety may require ; and even to punish them, if they should breed disturbance, or transgress the law. However, where public good is not con- cerned, it would be unreasonable to hinder inoffen- sive people from going away in peace, in order to better their fortune elsewhere. And thus we see, how laws and the obligations of government, though it were to be formed in the way here supposed, might be transmitted from generation to generation. Every man is under ties of gratitude to the govern- ment that protects him, and protected his forefa- thers : and whoever lives in a country, or retains property in it, obliges himself, in so doing, by a contract either express or tacit, to obey the laws of it. — Thus far, arguing hypothetically, I have con- sidered, * For what reasons, and by what steps,
* men, not subject to government, would probably
• think of it, and submit themselves to it.* See § 748.
757. Of the actual origin of government, the second thing proposed to be considered, history
CHAP. II, § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 157
gives little information. For policy is almost co- eval with the world ; and, in the first ages, it is not probable that men would think of writing his- tory. Without written records, it is wonderful to observe, how soon human affairs are forgotten ; and hence the history of every ancient people, the Jews excepted, becomes more uncertain, the fur- ther back it goes, and ends at last, or rather begins, in fable. Ignorant nations have erected pillars, mounds of earth, and heaps of stones, to perpetuate the remembrance of great events. They thought, perhaps, that those structures would always raise curiosity, and that tradition would never be want- ing to gratify it ; but posterity were too much en- grossed by their own concerns, to inquire into those of their ancestors ; the great events of the present time obliterated the memory of the past ; and the monumental pile, having become familiar to the eye, was looked at with little wonder, and less curiosity. And when people came afterwards to be improved by letters, to aspire after historical information, and to study the antiquities of their native land, they could learn very little from those rude memorials ; which, having no definite mean- ing, could convey no distinct knowledge. In this country, there is not a province, there is hardly a parish, in which several of these monuments are not still to be seen j some whereof the neighbours endeavour to account for by fabulous tradition, ^hile others baffle alJ conjecture.
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7-58. That, in the first ages of tlie world, go- vernment may have arisen from parental authority, is very probable. The first man lived nine hun- dred and thirty years. In this long track of time his sons and daughters and their offspring, who were equally long-lived, or nearly so, must have increased to an exceeding great number, and peopled all the adjoining regions, if those were sufficient for their accommodation. It was surely natural for them to look up with extraordinary ve- neration to their common ancestor, who having been created pure, and having no doubt received much knowledge by inspiration, would probably retain, notwithstanding his fall, a greater portion of wisdom and virtue than any other of his con- temporaries. Equally reasonable it is to suppose, that after his death, the oldest of his children, as being then the oldest man upon earth, would be considered as his successor in that part of the world where he resided ; and among those who had settled in remote parts, it would come to be a thing of course, that he who had the pre-emi- nence in years and wisdom, should be the sove- reign of those who were within his reach. The patriarchs, we find, in after times, exercised in their own household a sort of kingly authority ; ^vhich was no doubt vested in them partly on ac- covint of their age and virtue, and partly because it had been customary befoie their time.
759. But, to prevent mistakes on this subject,
GHAP. 11= § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 159
it is necessary to remark, that tlie authority of a parent is very different, both in kind and in de- gree, from that of a sovereign. In some respects, indeed, they are similar. The magistrate is bound, by the most sacred ties, to consult the happiness of his people, and it is equally a parent's duty to promote the good of his children. Both the one and the other are entitled to respect and obedience as long as their commands are reasonable ; and no sound is more pleasing to the ear of a good sove- reign, than to be called the father of his country. But, though children, through the whole of life, ought to reverence their parents, there is a time when the parental authority ceases, and the child becomes as free as the parent j namely, w^hen the former leaves his father's house to establish a fa- mily of his own. Whereas the sovereign may en- act laws to continue in force through ages, and whose authority is indeed perj^etual, unless they be abrogated by the same sovereign power that made them. — Besides, the legislature may both denounce and inflict capital punishment ; but no man is sup- posed to have this right vested in him on his be- coming a parent ; and if fathers in ancient Rome had such a right, they derived it, not from the law" of nature, but from the municipal law of their country. The sovereign may in all lawful cases coimnand : the parent, in many cases, can only en- treat or advise. The child becomes, or may be- come, a parent in his turn j the subject does not
160 ELEMENTS OP PART III.
in the same manner grow up into a sovereign. If therefore parents have in the early ages become the sovereigns of their descendents by any just title, it must have been, not merely by virtue of their parental authority, but by the consent of their descendents, expressly or tacitly given for that purpose.
760. Many governments have been founded in conquest. Such were of old the Assyrian, Per- sian, and Macedonian empires ; and such, though more gradual in its progress, was the Roman. Such in later times was the Turkish tyranny ; and such the first feudal governments established in the southern parts of Europe. Kngland was con- quered by the Romans, the Saxons, the Danes, and at last, in the eleventh century, by the Nor- mans under William duke of Normandy, com- monly called the Conqueror. The effects of this last conquest are still discernible in the British constitution ; and our royal family is descended from William, though indeed it justly claims an ori- gin still higher and nobler : his majesty being the great grandson of George I. who was great-grand- son of James VI. of Scotland, who was descended from Malcolm 111. commonly called Malcolm Can- more, by Margaret the sister of Edgar, whose ancestors had been kings in England several hun- dred years before the Norman conquest.
761. That conquest alone convex s no jii>it right to sovereignty, is selt-evident. Great Britani, for
CHAP. II* § I. iJORAL SCIENCE. l^i
example, has no more right to conquer Spain, than Spain has to conquer Great Britain ; or than any man has to plunder me, and make me a slave, merely because he is stronger than I. Yet all go- vernments founded in conquest are not unlawful* Joshua's conquest of Canaan was lawful, because authorized by the Deity himself, who has the su- preme disposal of all his creatures, and who com- manded that the Canaanites should be destroyed in this manner, on account of their abominable wickedness. If a conquered nation, admiring the abilities of their conqueror, and in order to avoid greater evils, shall make choice of him for their king, he has a right to be so : and it was by a title of this kind that William the Conqueror, who was a man of abilities, became the rightful sove- reign of England : Edgar, the only surviving heir to the crown, having relinquished his claim in fa- vour of William, and all the people assembled at William's coronation having repeatedly declared, when the question was put to them by the arch- bishops of Canterbury and York, that they chose him to be their king.
76-2. If a nation be troublesome to its neigh- bours, and after frequent defeats refuse to be quiet, the victor may pursue his advantages till he has subdued them. But he must not punish the innocent with the guilty ; and therefore he must not make them slaves, or establish among them arbitrary power. For that would be to inflict pu-
YOL. 11. L
362 ELEMENTS OP PART III.
nishment, not only on the women and common people, many of whom probably had no hand in the public injuries, but also on their young child- ren, and unborn descendents, who certainly had no hand in them. All governments, therefore, founded in conquest, are not unlawftd. But every government is unlawful in some degree, which de- prives men of their freedom^ or of that political liberty which promotes prosperity and virtue. And here it is proper to ascertain what may reasonably be understood by the term political liberty, which is used in many different senses, and most used, perhaps, by those who least understand it. In this question I take it for granted that Britain is a free state, which no man of sense denies; which Mon- tesquieu, the greatest political genius that ever lived, acknowledges ; and which they, who are most dissatisfied with the administratian of our af- fairs, seem to admit, when they say, that our li- berty is in danger ; for in danger that cannot be which does not exist.
763. Does liberty, then, consist in the power of doing what we please ? No : for if every body had this power, there could be no liberty at all ; because our life and property would be at the dis- posal of every man who was able and wiHing to take them frorn us. Iti a free country, every vio- lation of law is an attack upon the public liberty. The laws of God and our country are our best and only security against oppression j and there-
CHAP. II. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 163.
fore liberty can exist amongst us no longer than while those laws are obeyed. iMilton, who loved liberty as much, I believe, as any man ever did, has truly observed, when speaking of it, that ' who * loves that must first be wise and good.* See his twelfth sonnet.
764. Does liberty consist in our being govern- ed by laws of our own making ? I know not how many political writers have laid this down as a first principle, and a self evident maxim : and yet, if Britain be a free government this maxim is gross- ly absurd. Who are they who can be said to be governed by laws of their own making ? I know of no such persons ; I never heard or read of any such, except, perhaps, among pirates and other banditti, who, trampling on all laws, divine and human, refuse to be governed in any other way than by their owni licentious regulations. The greatest part of the laws by which we are govern- ed were made long ago : I should be glad to know how a man co-operates, in making a law before he is born. But are we not instrumental in making those laws, which are made in our own time ? Granting that we are, which is by no means the case, these are not the only laws by which we are governed : we must obey the common law of the land, which is of immemorial standing, as well as the statutes made in the last session of parlia- ment.
765. The British laws are enacted by the king.
iS-t ELEMENTS OF PART llfr
lords, and commons, who may amount in all to about eight hundred persons : the inhabitants of Great Britain, who must obey these laws, are computed at eight millions. In Britain, there- fore, not to mention the rest of the empire, are more than seven milHons of persons, who are go- verned by laws which they neither make nor can alter : and even the king, lords, and commons, are themselves governed bylaws which were made before they were born. Nay more : if the ma- jority of the lords and commons agree to a bill, which afterwards receives the royal assent, that bill is a law, though the minority vote against it ; and the minority in both houses might compre- hend three hundred and eighty persons ; so that a law to bind the whole British nation might, ac- cording to the principles of our constitution, be made, even contrary to the will of three hundred and eighty members of the legislature. — Nay, fur- ther ; in the hou^e of commons, forty members, in ordinary cases of legislation, make a house, or quorum ; the majority is twenty-one, which, de- ducted from five hundred and fifty-eight, the num- ber of members in that house, leaves five hundred and thirty-seven : so that a bill might pass the hou:^e of commons, if the house happened to be very thin, contrary to the will of five hundred and thirty-seven members of that house ; and yet, if such a bill were afterwards ratified by the lords, and assented to by the king, it would be a law. —
CHAP. II. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 1 65
Surely, if we are a free people, liberty must be something, that does not consist in our being go- verned by laws of our own making.
766. It is said, indeed, that every British sub* ject has influence in the legislature by means of his representative freely chosen, who appears [and acts for him in parliament. But this is not true. There are not, in this island, one million of per- sons who have a vote in electing parliament-men : and yet, in this island, there are eight millions of persons who must obey the law. And for their conduct, as lawgivers, our parliament-men are not answerable to their electors, or to any other per- sons whatever. And it not often happens, that in making lav/s they are unanimous ; yet the minori- ty in both houses must obey the laws tliat are made against their will. — Besides, we are all sub- ject to the law of God, and are free in proportion as we obey it ; for his service is perfect freedom. But who can say that m.an is the maker of God's law ! — We see, then, that our liberty does not con- sist, either in the power of doing what w^e please, or in being governed by laws made by ourselves.
767. They, who are hindered from doing what the law allows, or who have reason to be afraid of one another, even while they are doing their duty, cannot be said to enjoy liberty. Wliere this is the case, there must be In the hands of certain individuals some exorbitant power productive of oppression, and not subject to law 5 or there must
566 ELEME^'TS OF- PART III*
prevail in the state a spirit of licentiousness which the law cannot controul. — Nor can meri be said to be free, wlio are liable to have oppressive laws imposed on them, or to be tried by tyrannical or incompetent judges. In Great Britain, by a contrivance to be explained hereafter, our laws are made by men whose interest it is to make them equitable ; and who, with a very few exceptions of little moment, are themselves subject to the laws they make. In Britain, too, by the institu- tion of juries, our judges, in all criminal and in many civil causes, are our equals : men, who are acquainted with our circumstances, to whose pru- dence and probity we have no objection, and who are favourably inclined towards us, on account of our being their equals. In Great Britain, there- fore, an honest man has nothing to fear, either from the law or from the judge. — Neither can those people be accounted freey who dare not com- plain when they suffer injury, or who are denied the privilege of declaring their sentiments freely to one another. In both these respects our freedom is secured by the liberty of the press, of which I shall speak afterwards.
768. Political liberty, therefore, I would de- scribe thus. ' It is that state in which men are so
* governed by equitable Ifiws, and so tried by ^ equitable judges, thai no person can be hindered
* from doing what the law allows, or have reason
* to be afraid of any person so long as he does his
CHAP. II. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 167
* duty.* This is true liberty ; for this is the only sort of liberty that promotes virtue and happiness; and surely no wise or good man would ever wish for any other : and this is a degree and a perfec- tion of liberty, which I know not that any other people on earth ever enjoyed. How the several parts of the British constitution are contrived, and adjusted, so as to secure this liberty, I shall after- wards endeavour to explain.
769. The Jewish policy was of divine origin, and some of the Jewish kings were appointed by a com- mand from heaven. Hence some writers have taught, that kingly government in general is of di- vine origin ; and that kings, deriving their autho- rity from God, are accountable to him alone, and must not be disobeyed or resisted by their people on any pretence whatever. This was called the doctrine of passive obedience and non-resistance. Formerly it made a noise in this country ; but the minds of our people on the subject of govern- ment are now more enlightened ; and the follow- ing brief remarks will be a sufficient confutation of it.
770. First ; Law is the declared will of a person who has a right to command. But no magistrate can have a right to violate the law to the oppres- sion of his people, or to command them to do what God forbids. "Were a sovereign to do either,, his will, because not founded in right, would not be a law, nor, consequently, entitled to obedience.
36S ELEMENTS OF PART III,
Secondly ; The right of self defence will justify a "man in resisting tliat power which is unlawfully ex- erted to destroy him, or to deprive him of his per- fect rights. Thirdly; Public good is the end of just government ; and therefore that is not just go- vernment which promotes public evil. Fourthly; Kinoes and other lawful magistrates derive their au- thority immediately, though by divine permission, from the laws of their country ; and no sovereign, some of the Jewish kings excepted, was ever ap- pointed by express command from heaven.
771. But, fifthly, The person of a good sovereign is as sacred as any thing human can be; and while the king executes the law, he does what the law re- quires of him, and it is absolutely unlawful to resist or disobey him. And in all government there must be some supreme power, in whatever person or persons it may be lodged, which every subject must obey : for law cannot contradict itself; which, how- ever, it would do, if it were to require obedience, and excuse disobedience. Let it be observed, too, that resistance to government is always attended with danger and bloodshed, involves many an in- nocent man in ruin, and many a worthy family in misery, and may in the end produce anarchy, or tyranny, more intolerable than any of the evils ■which it might have been intended to remove. To a remedy so desperate a good man will not have recourse, unless both he, and the greater and wiser
CHAP. II. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 169^
part of tlic nation, are morally certain, that it will be productive of good.
772. And therefore, when a government is esta- blished, and upon the whole tolerably mild, though it should fall short of the perfection of that under which we have the hanoiness to live, a jrood man will be careful not to breed disturbance in it; but will, on the contrary, as far as he is able, promote concord and peace, even though he should have reason to disapprove of many things in the conduct of his superiors. To his relations, friends, and fel- low-subjects, he owes the great duty of benevolence; and would therefore be extremely sorry to see them involve themselves in civil war, which of alt human calamities is the worst, which leads to the perpetration of innumerable crimes, and the event of which it is impossible to foresee. As to those who foment dissention in a state, in order to enrich or distinguish themselves, or to gratify the rancour of party-spirit, what can be said of them, but that they are public incendiaries, and the enemies of their country and of mankind !
773. The doctrine of the divine right of kings to do w'hat they please, was no doubt contrived by their flatterers, who wanted to make their court to the monarch, by magnifying his power, and enslav- ing his people. When Alexander had murdered Clytus, and was in an agony of remorse for what he had done, Anaxarchus, a fellow who attend* ed the king, and called himself a philosopher.
170 ELEMENTS OF PART 111.
endeavoured to give him comfort by telling him, tliat whatever was done by the supreme power was right, and that it was unworthy of Alexander to be afraid of the law, or the tongues of men ; for that his will was the law of his subjects, and ought to be to them the measure of right and wrong. By this doctrine, says Plutarch, he alleviated the king's grief, but made him withal more haughty and un- just ; and insinuated himself into the royal favour much more than he had been able to do before. The same doctrine was taught in England, in the last century, by Mr Hobbes and others. But kings were never obliged to those who taught it. If it make them more tyrannical, which it will certainly do if they listen to it, it will also make them more insecure and more wretched. The only happy princes are they who govern according to law; for the law is their excuse for every thing that is done : and, if there should be dissatisfied persons, which, though an angel from heaven were to be king, there always would be, such princes are sure of the affection of the greater and more respectable part of their people. Cruel and arbitrary sovereigns are unhappy while they live, and often come to an untimely end. In no other country on earth is the deposition of princes so common as in Turkey, where the sovereign is despotical, and the people are slaves : and let it not be forgotten, that of the twelve Caesars eight were tyrants and usurpers, and six of the eight perished by assassination. — So much
CHAP. ir,§ 1. MORAL SCIENCE. 171
for the origin of government. I proceed to con- sider, in the second place, its general principles and simple forms. See § 747.
774. It was already observed, that independent states bear to one another the same relation which individual men would bear to one another in the state of nature ; and that their conduct with re- spect to each other ought to be regulated by the law of nature ; which, as applied to independent- communities, is called the law of nations. They are all equal in their rights, whatever be their ex- tent, and whether they be called empire, kingdom, or republic ; even as in the natural state all men are equal in their rights, whatever be their name or size. The rights included in sovereignty have been divided into greater and less. The greater rights are three, the legislative, or the right of making laws ; the judiciary, or the right of decid- ing differences and trying criminals ; and the exe- cutive, which enforces the laws within the kinsf^ dom, and manages the business of the state with ibreign nations. In our government, for very good reasons to be mentioned hereafter, the executive power belongs to the king ; who also possesses those prerogatives called the less rights of sove- reignty, which are those of coining money, con- ferring nobility, knighthood, and other dignities, erecting corporations, pardoning condemned cri- minals, and the like. How our judiciary and
172 ZLEMENTS OF PART III.
legislative powers are disposed of, will be seen by and by.
775. As individuals in private life enjoy extra- ordinary rights on extraordinary occasions, the supreme power of government may also lay claim to extraordinary privileges, when any uncommon or pressing emergence renders them necessary to public good : as if the government were to seize on the ships of a subject for the transportation of troops, in time of war ; or on his lands in order to fortify some important pass or harbour. The urgency of the case might vindicate such a mea- sure, even though the subject were to refuse his consent ; because the safety of the nation might be endangered by delay, or if his refusal were allowed to be valid. But, in all such cases, the person, whose property is thus invaded for the public good, is entitled to full indemnification, or something more.
776. Government must possess authority, or a right to command ; and power, to render its com- mands effectual. Without authority, it would be unlawful ; without power, insignificant. In the sfirst institution of policy, authority would no doubt depend on moral virtues and intellectual abilities; which alone render one man riaturally superior to another, and which, as I remarked already, would probably point out the person who was to be en- trusted with sovereignty. In the more advanced states of society, government derives its authority
CHAP. II. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 173
from law, from custom, from the tacit or express consent of the people, and from its own beneficial tendency, which creates an obligation upon the consciences of the subjects to unite for its defence, and avoid rebellious or turbulent practices.
777. The form of government is naturally de- termined by the distribution of property, that is, of power. For from property power arises ; as he who can hire ten persons to co-operate with him in any work, may exert himself with the force or power of eleven persons. Now of all property the most permanent is property in land : for it is fixed, and it produces (what there must always be a demand for) the necessaries of life. — Hence, if a man possess all the land of any country, or the greater part of it, and depend on no superior, he will be, or he may be, the absolute sovereign of it ; because there is no other power in it sufficient to hinder the operation of his. Hence, if the property of a country be equally divided among the inhabitants, or nearly so, and if thfey be mutually independent and hold of no superior, they must all have equal power, and the government will be, or may be, democracy. Hence, if the whole, or the chief part of a territory be divided among a few persons, who are equal among themselves, or nearlv equal, and hold of no superior, the power will be in their hands, and the government will be aristocracy. But if those persons derive any dignities, or be supposed to derive their lands, from one persoii^
174 ELExMENTS OF PART III.
who by law or wniversal consent is considered as e^uperior to them all, that person will be king, and the government will be monarchy ; but such a monarch will not be absolute, because the power possessed by his subjects will be a check, to oblige him to govern according to law. In those com- mercial states that possess little land, as Venice, property in money will have similar effects on the form of government. Such states are commonly aristocratical ; for it rarely happens, that the pro- fits of an extensive commerce come into the hands of one person, so as to make that commercial chief a king ; though, where commerce is extensive, there may be a considerable number of rich peo- ple, and must also be a great number of people who arc not rich.
778. These remarks may show, why it becomes a principle in politics, that the form of govern- ment is determined, in any country, by the balance of power, and the balance of power by the balance of property, especially of property in land. If it should anywhere happen, that the form of go- vernment is not according to the distribution of property ; that those who have little property have great power, or those who have great property Jittle power; the government of that nation will be unsteady, and continually tending to a revolution, till either the balance of power produce its natural form of government, or till the established form of government get the better of the balance, and altei*
CHAP. II. § I, MORAL SCIENCE. 175
it. Those great lawgivers, who had the address to change the government of their country from one form to another, have generally begun their ope- rations, by making a change in the general distri- bution of property. When Lycurgns wanted to introduce democratical principles into the constitu- tion of Sparta, he prevailed on the citizens to give up their lands to the public, and then divided them equally : and, to render these principles perma- nent, made a law establishing the use of iron monev, which amounted to an abolition of com- nierce ; and he enacted, that Sparta, whatever vic- tories she might gain in war, should never enlarge her territory, nor even pursue the vanquished enemy beyond the field of battle.
779. The Greek politicians divided the simple forms of government into three ; which they said were all good in themselves, but liable to become evil by being corrupted. First, monarchy, or government by one man; the corruption of which is tyranny. Secondly, aristocracy, or government by nobles; the corruption of which is called oli- garchy, and takes place when a few of the nobles engross all the power, to the exclusion of the rest. Thirdly, democracy, when the sovereign power is in the body of the people; the corruption of which is anarchy, or confusion arising from want of govern- ment, and disregard to the law and magistrates. Montesquieu gives a better division of the simple forms, proceeding upon a more extensive view of
176 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
human affairs, and jiister notions of the nature and principles of law. That great author divides the simple forms of government into republic, which comprehends aristocracy and democracy ; mo- narchy, or government by one man according to law ; and despotism, or government by one man whose will is the law.
780. Whether any one of these simple forms does really take place in any nation, is no part of tlie present inquiry. Supposing any one, or all of them, to take place, which is possible at least, their essential laws must, from the nature of the human mind and of human affairs, be similar to those I am going to specify. My reasonings, however, on tliis subject, will not be merely hypo- thetical, but from history will derive considerable evidence. In as far, for example, as the gov'ern- ment of ancient Rome was democratical ; so far will the Roman laws and customs be found to co- incide with those which will be proved to be essen- tial to pure democracy. Most governments are mixed, and unite in themselves the principles of two or more of the simple forms : but the only way we can take to come at the knowledge of a complex object, is by analyzing it, and examining its component parts separately. The British go- vernment, for example, which unites in itself the principles of monarchy, aristocracy, and democra- cv, we cannot distinctlv understand, till we have
CHAP. II. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. IVt
formed a notion of what is essential to pure mo- narchy, pure aristocracy, and pure democracy.
781. The government of ancient Rome under the kings was an elective monarchy, mixed with aristocracy, and something too, but very little, of democracy : under the consuls, it was a mixture of aristocracy and democracy, unless when a dic- tator was in office ; for his power was absolute : about the time of Marius and Sylla it became aa oligarchy ; which grew every day more and more apparent, and, by a mode of degeneracy natural to that corruption of" government, came at last to ter- minate in absolute monarchy ; which though the forms of the old republic were still nominally ob- served, fell nothing short of despotism. Athens, Sparta, and Carthage, were mixed republics, com- pounded of aristocracy and democracy, but par- taking most of the former. Most of the modera monarchies of Europe, as Spain, Portugal, Prus- sia, &c. are composed of monarchy and aristocra- cy, but, from the want of democratical principles^ and from the discretionary power which the kings have with respect to the laws, have a tendency to- wards despotism. In Great Britain, we enjoy the; advantages of monarchy, aristocracy, and- demo- cracy united, with, I believe, as few of their disad- vantages as it is possible, in a free and commercial, state, to guard against. In short, none of the simple forms can be said to have taken place in any nation, except perhaps despotism : and even in
VOL. II. M
178 ELEMENTS OF PART HI.
the most despotical governments the will of the prince is not the only law ; being subject to many limitations, from religion, from customs of long standing, and from that fear of the violence of his people, of which the most tyrannical prince, who values his own salety, cannot entirely divest himself.
SECTION ir.
Of Democracy and Aristocracy.
782. In treating of the laws essential to the se- vcral simple forms of government, Montesquieu judiciously observes, that three things are to be at- tended to; first, the foundation of the form, or that peculiarity in the circumstances of any people which determines them to adopt one form of policy ra- ther than another : secondly, the nature of the form, or its particular structure ; and thirdly, the principle of the form, or the human passion by which it is supported, and made to act. This, says that great writer, is a very important distinc- tion, and serves as a key to an infinite number of laws.
783. The foundation of a pure Democracy is an equal distribution of property, especially of property in land, among all the citizens ; that is, among all those who, as members of the com-
CHAP. II. § II. MORAL SCIENCE. l?^
moil wealth, have influence in it. This^ far a rea- son already assigned, will give to every citizen an equal share of power, and consequently of weight in the government, either directly by himself, or indirectly by his representative freely chosen. All the citizens, for the same reason, must be consi- dered as of equal rank; for titles of honour in- spire pridcj command respect, and stimulate am- bition, and of course tend to destroy democrati- cal equality. Men who are thus on an equal foot- ing with respect to wealth and condition, do gene- rally pique themselves on their equality, and are unwilling to acknowledge any superiority in their neighbour : and if, together with his haughty spi- rit of independence, they be tem.perate, frugal, and lovers of labour and of their country, the de- Jriocracy, once established, may subsist for some time. But if a desire of wealth or superiority arise, inequality will soon appear; some will ac- quire niore, and be more distinguished, than others, and possess a more elevated mind ; and both will transmit to their posterity a portion of their own spirit : so that he whose father was ambitious and successful will inherit the same towering genius ; and they whose ancestors could never emerge from obscurity, will suit their views to their condition, which it will seem impossible for them to exchange for a better. And favour- able accidents, superior virtue, and superior ability, will all conspire to raise some individuals; and
ISO ELEMENTS OF FART in,
opposite circumstances, to depress others. Hence tiome must acquire greater power than they ought to have ; which will necessarily deprive others of part of that power to which they have a right. And so the democracy will gradually resolve itself into aristocracy j and this, by a similar, and almost unavoidable, degeneracy, into oligarchy ; which will probably end in despotism. These vicissitudes have in a greater or less degree been experienced in all democratical states, and it seems to be im- possible to prevent them. For this form of go- vernment is ill suited to human nature, and not at all to the modern state of human affairs.
784. Commerce, which, as accompanied with good or ill fortune, has so powerful a tendency to create inequalities among mankind, must be dan- gerous to this form of government ; unless the profits of it are to be, not appropriated to indivi- duals, but deposited in the public treasury. In the early times of the Roman republic, the riches ob- tained by conquest were generally disposed of in: this manner. Cincinnatus, after subduing the £qui, resigned the dictatorship, which he might have retained for five months longer, and returned to his plough and four acres of land, as poor as when he went from them. And Paulus ^milius, at a later period, having conquered the wealthy kingdom of Macedonia, brought all the spoil into the Roman treasury, and, to adopt the words of Cicero, carried nothing to his own house but the eternal remembrance of his name.
CHAP, II. § II. MORAL SCIENCE. 181
785. Neither to ornamental and elegant arts is the genius of democracy favourable ; they also tending to rouse emulation, and give splendour to genius. The Lacedaemonian citizens were satisfied with the homeliest food, and the coarsest furni- ture; they practised no commerce, except, per- haps, a little in the way of barter; they gave no countenance to any fine art, except music ; their music was oi the simplest kind ; and it was con- trary to law to make any improvement in it. Laws must also be made in this government for preventing the accumulation of wealth by testa- ments and doweries. A father's estate must be divided equally among his children ; and the wife's dowery adapted rather to the husband's fortune than to her own ; and adapted so, that the richer the husband the smaller must be the wife's dowery ; and the poorer the husband the greater the dowery.
786. The citizens, being equal in other re- spects, must also be equal in this ; that every man who appears worthy of such a trust, shall have a chance of being a magistrate in his turn ; and the term of magistracy must be short. For if public offices be engrossed by one party of the citizens, to the exclusion of the rest, equality is at an end, and the state aristocratical ; and if any one citizen remain in office too long, he will acquire too many clients, and consequently too much power. — It will be further expedient, where offices of public trust are to circulate through the whole
182 ELEMENTS CP PART III.
body of a people, that every citizen receive such an education as may qualify him for serving his country as a magistrate, as v;ell as a subject. For this reason all the citizens should receive the same education ; as difftrent plans of discipline would undoubtedly create diversities of genius and capa- city. It Avouid seem then that, in this govern- ment, education ought to be the care of the pub- lic ; not because domestic discipline is likely, as Plato thinks, to give rise to avarice and immoder- ate fondness in parents, or to form confederacies of near relations that may be dangerous to the state ; but because the masters of different fami- lies might, if left to themselves, prefer different modes of education ; or because some parents might be careless, in regard to this matter, and others attentive ; which would produce too many varieties of character and ability among the citi- zens. But I have shewn, in another place, (§ .581) that to dissolve the attach.ments of consan- guinity, by making cliildren the care of the pub- lic, and uot of their parents, v.ould be detrimental to the best interests of mankind. If this, there- fore, be necessary in democratical government, it supplies still fiirther evidence, that democracy is unnatural, and unfriendly to virtue and happi- ness.
787. In order to preserve the foundation of this government, laws must be made for prevent- ing ambition ; and to prevent it still more effectu-
CHAP. II. § II. MORAL SCIENCE. 183
ally than bylaws, all temptations to ambition must be removed ; which might possibly be done, where the territory of the state is small, where the num- ber of citizens is fixed and known, and where no citizen is allowed to have more land than is neces- sary to his support. At Rome, four acres for one citizen were deemed a competency, in the earlier times of the republic ; and as long as they thought this enough, they were temperate and la- borious, and gloried in their poverty, holding luxury and riches in supreme contempt. But the number of Roman citizens was never fixed ; and their territories they were continually enlarging 5 whence wealth was introduced, individuals grew avaricious and fond of power, the public assemblies became tumultuous, and the democratical part of the constitution disappeared.
788. It is the opinion of the best politicians, that where a democracy is to be established, the territory must be small. For this not only pre- vents ambition, and makes frugality atid modera- tion necessr.ry, but puts it in the power of the ci- tizens to be mutually acquainted, which produces mutual attachment ; as well as to perceive the in- terests of the community, which it is proper that every citizen should understand, because in his turn every citizen may be a magistrate. And not democracy only, but republic in general, seems to be, in an extensive empire, an impossible esta- blishmept. For jvhere many provinces are UJif^l&i'
lS4t ELEMENTS OF PART III.
one government, public affairs must be so com- plex, and so liable to chaniie from a number of unforeseen accidents, that unless there be in the state a principle of sovereignty distinct from po- pular deliberation, they will soon run into disor- der. For popular deliberation is slow ; whereas the will of a monarch, who has the executive power in his hands, may change as often, and as suddenly, as the public exigencies require. Though Rome had a senate, which, without con- sulting the people, could make temporary decrees, and, in times of great danger, create a dictator ■with absolute authority ; yet when the empire be- came very extensive, despotism ensued, and the republic was merely a name. In a wide empire, there cannot be that unanimity, that mutual at- tachment, or that idea of a common interest, which are essential to republic, and which in a small nation may subsist for a long time. And a successful commander, entrusted with a powerful army, in a remote province, where he is daily ac- quiring vast wealth and influence, will not be will- ing to take his orders from a set of men at home, ■who are in law his equals, and whom he has it in his power to make his inferiors, by means of that force, and that influence, of which they cannot deprive him without his consent. Here is such a lure to ambition, as it is not easy for an enterprizing genius to resist j especially when he knows, what every great officer in a republic must know, that
CHAP. ir. § II. MORAL SCIENCE. 1S5
the more successful he is abroad, the more ob- noxious he will be to the malevolence of party at home.
789. The history of Julius Caesar seems to ex- emplify these remarks. His long wars, and ex- traordinary success, in Gaul and Germany, had taught him that he was the greatest commander, and his army the bravest and best disciplined, in the world. The splendour of his actions, his long absence from Rome, and some dissatisfactions that had formerly prevailed against him, made him the object of envy and jealousy to a very powerful party among the patricians, who set up in opposi- tion to him Pompey, a person whom, though of great ability and very great ostentation, Cassar knew to be no match for him, either in policy or in war. Means were used to draw some of Cae- sar's legions from him, on pretence of sending them against the Parthians; but when they arrived in Italy, they were given to his rival, whose army the senate ordered to be further augmented with new levies. Caesar at the same time w^as required to disband his troops, which he agreed to do, pro- vided Pompey would do the same ; but this not being complied with, he saw the senate had re- solved on his destruction ; so that, as he had the means of self defence in his power, it is no won- der that he passed the Rubicon, and began that war w^hich set him at the head of the Roman em- pire. By him, however, the liberties of Rom.^
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were not finally subverted; his administration be- ing, as far perhaps as the circumstances of the times would permit, both mild and munificent. He had great things in view for advancing the prosperity of his country ; and, if he had been permitted to live, v.ould no doubt have executed them ; for it was not his way to relinquish the plans he had once adopted.
790. I return from this digression j and shall conclude the subject of democracy, with a few re- marks on its nature and principle (§ 782). The people in a democracy are the sovereigns, because they make their own laws, and choose their own magistrates ; they are also the subjects, because they must obey the laws and magistrates that they themselves have made. They exercise their so- vereignty, by means of their votes ; whereof the majority, or a fixed proportion greater than the majority, as two thirds or three fourths, must be understood to be the will of the whole. Laws for the regulation of votes are therefore essential in this government ; and the number of voters, or citizens, must be fixed and known : otherwise persons miglit vote who have no right to that pri- vilege ; and it would be impossible to know how many votes made a majority. The Athenian citi- zens were twenty thousand ; those of Sparta, ten thousand ; at Rome the number was never fixed, which gave rise to many troubles.
791. Ill a small state, the people may be quali-
CHAP. IT. § II. MORAL SCIENCE. 187
fied for making laws ; because they can hardly be ignorant of their own interest: and for choosing magistrates J because the character of every citi- zen is known. But, even in a small state, the people cannot execute the laws, or deliberate, or reason, concerning them in a public assembly ; because they are too numerous, and every man has his own business to mind. A senate, there- fore, to deliberate on public affairs, and prepare them for the popular assembly, and magistrates to execute the laws, are in this government neces- sary, and must be chosen by the peqple. If the senate become hereditary, and independent on the people, as the Roman senate was, it will have in- fluence sufficient to change the government to aris- tocracy.
792. In making laws, and electing magistrates, the citizens must give their votes, when they are assembled in some public place. They cannot be always assembled ; for that would put an end to all private business : and yet the exigencies of go- vernment are continually changing ; and a law may be necessary this year, wliich was not neces- sary last year ; and sometin^es it may be proper to make trial of a law, before it is absolutely esta- blished. The senate, therefore, should have power to make temporary decrees; which, however, must not become laws, till ratified by the people. This was the case at Athens and Rome. A senatus cvnsiiltum, or resolution of the senate, was in force
18S tLEMENTS OF PART III.
for a year, and sometimes longer ; a plehiscitum, or statute enacted by the people, was a permanent
law.
793. For regulating votes, the people, If very numerous, must be divided into classes or tribes ; each class to have one vote, or a certain number of votes, in the popular assembly. If, in making this division, more regard is had to the wealth and rank of individuals than to their number, which was the case in the arrangement of the Roman people by Servius Tullius, the government will be aristocratical ; that is, the richer sort will have great influence in the popular assembly, and the poorer sort, little or no influence. For holding this assembly, a certain place must be fixed by law, and a certain magistrate appointed for calling it to- gether ; and it must not be held to be a legal as- sembly, unless it be regularly summoned, and meet in the legal place, and with the legal formalities : otherwise, different bodies of the people might meet in different places, each calling itself the po- pular assembly, and claiming the power of legis- lation, and so make unconnected and inconsistent laws, and produce universal confusion,
794. Votes may be given either publicly or se- cretly : in the former way the voter's determina- tion is known ; in the latter it is concealed. Pub- lic votes may be liable to undue influence; as when a man is unwilling to offend by his vote a person ^'hom he fears to disoblige. Yet in many cases.
CHAP. II. § ir. MORAL SCIENCE. 189
as in that of a deputy acting for constituents, where it is proper that the constituents should know what part the deputy has acted, secret votes would be dangerous ; whence, in our parliament, in all mat- ters of legislation, votes are given openly, and all the nation knows, or may know, on what side of any question every member has voted. When elections to office are determined by lot, nobody is offended, but too much is left to what we call chance ; unless where none are admitted as candi- dates but persons of approved ability, who are to be answerable for their conduct, as was the case at Athens, in electing to some high offices.
795. Neither democracy nor aristocracy can long subsist uncorrupted, unless the citizens have a love to their country, and a spirit of moderation, superior to all views of private interest. These are the principles of veipubVican government : and excel- lent principles they are, and might safely be relied on, if men were what they ought to be. Without these, bad laws will be made, bad magistrates ap- pointed, ambition and discord will prevail ; and either the nation will be ruined, or the form ot government will change to one better provided with the means of counteracting the degeneracy of human nature. In these governments, there- fore, in order to maintain public virtue and a spi- rit of moderation, care must be taken to prevent the accumulation of wealth, and to render luxury, and all the arts that minister to it, unfashionable
390 ELEMENTS OF FAllT III.
and dishonourabie ; and censors arc very useful for the inspection of morals, and a senate of grave and wise men, to promote virtue by their example. In a democracy, this order of senators should re- main in office for life, because old age renders even virtue more venerable ; whereas the other senate, constituted for the purpose of making tem- porary decrees, and preparing matters of legisla- tion for the popular- assembly, should not hold their offices for life, lest they acquire too much in- fluence. The Roman censors had great power : they could even degrade senators, arid all orders of men were liable to be brought before their tri- bunal.
796. The foundation of aristocracy is such a distribution of property as puts the balance of power in the hands of a few, who are equal, or nearly equal, among themselves, and depend on no superior. Here the common people^ having no jrnfluence in the government, are the subjects of the nobles : and the nobles, like the people in a democracy, are the sovereigns in one respect, be- cause they make the law, and the subjects in an- other, because they must obey it. And here al- most the sanie laws take place with respect to the nobility, as in a democracy with respect to the people. If auibition prevail among the nobles, the government will change, as that of Rome did in the decline of the republic. Aristocracy is the more equitable the nearer it approaches to demo-
€HAP. II. 5 "• J!ORAL SCIENCE. 19i
cracy ; and the more corrupt as it verges to oii- garchy. To genius and the cultivation of elegant arts, it is more favourable than democracy. It is liable to much inconvenience from the animosities of faction ; which would have dcstroved the con- sular state of Rome soon after its commencement, if it had not been for that privilege, which the senate had, of creating, in cases of great public danger, a dictator, whose power for a certain limited time, commonly six months, was superior to the laws. To this despotic principle, and to auguries and some other superstitions, rather than to the wis- dom of its policy, the Roman republic owed its continuance ; and yet can hardly be said to have lasted above four hundred years, reckoning from the first consulship to the times of Marius and tiylla, when the oligarchy began.
797. Republican government has produced great men ; for it calls forth into action all the human faculties, and gives encouragement to military and political genius ; so that men of these talents can hardly fail to make a figure in it. But, on ac- count of the contentions that prevail in it, and are the more formidable, because all parties think them- selves equally entitled to supreiuacy, it does not seem favourable to public happiness, nor is it friend- ly to private virtue. At Athens, a citizen no sooner became eminent for great abilities, or even for great integrity, than his countrymen began io look on him as dangerous on account of his popularity.
192 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
"W'hich they thought might give him too much in- fluence ; and then it was customary to banish him for ten years, by a vote, not of the majority of the citizens, but of six thousand, not quite a third part: this was called ostradsm, from the shells fostrakaj on which, on those occasions, they used to write their votes. At Rome, the lower orders of people suffered incredible oppression from the higher. In the latter times of the republic, and indeed not long after the beginning of it, the Romans of rank and wealth, many of them at least, were immoderately attached to riches, and unmercifully severe in the treatment of those debtors who were not able to pay ; whom they often punished with scourging, and slavery, and sometimes even with death.
798. A republic cannot act with expedition or secrecy ; because many people must be consulted before it can act at all. In modern times, therefore, when the arts of printing and navigation have pro- tnoted a rapid circulation of intelligence, a republi- can state opposed to a monarchy ; or a free mo- narchy, like Britain, opposed to an arbitrary one, as France formerly was, must labour under con- siderable disadvantages. Accordingly, in the be- ginning of our wars with France, we were generally imsuccessful ; such being the influence of the de- mocratical principles of our constitution, that the executive power was unwilling to pursue decisive measures, till it should know, what could not at iirst be known, that the nation in general wished
GlIAP. II. § 11. MORAL SCIENCE. 1»S
it to do so. Whereas in France, at that time, the king was so absolute, that his will, though indivi- duals might murmur at it, was constantly submitted to by the people. In respect of government, those ancient rival nations of Rome and Carthage were on unequal footing, both being republican. These considerations, joined to what was formerly said of the natural inequality of mankind in respect of abi- lities and character, seems to prove, that republic, especially as the world is now constituted, is nei- ther a desirable, nor a natural form of government. Such for the last thirty years of my life, has been my opinion ; and the further I advance in the study of history and of human nature, the more I am confirmed in it. Whether some late revolutions will prove that I am mistaken, time will show : as yet * they have not made any change in my senti- ments. If they ever should, I shall most willingly acknowledge it.
799. About the middle of the seventeenth cen- tury, a party in England of republicans, or rather of those whose meaning was to level ail distinctions of men in political society, murdered the king, abo- lished the peerage, and endeavoured to introduce their favourite form (I know not whether to say) of government, or of anarchy. But the experience of a few years proved the scheme to be absurd ; partly, from the impossibility of the thing itself; partly, from the ambitious views of the ringleaders
* 1792.
VOL. II, N
ly-lf ELEMENTS OF PART HI,
in the rebellion, who, when they had advanced to power, would not return to republican equality ; and partly, no doubt, from the extent of the em- pire, which made it impossible to collect the senti- ments of the whole people; and unsafe to take that for a majority, which might have only the appear- ance of one. Even now, there are not wanting among us persons, who not only affect to admire republican government, for which nobody would blame them (as simple admiration can do no poli- tical mischief), but insinuate, that our monarchy ought to be subverted, and republic established in its room. But before this conceit, so fraught with, confusion, robbery, and massacre, be allowed to influence a quiet Christian, or a prudent man, he ■will seriously consider, whether republic, or such a constitution as the British, be, in these days, and in this part of the world, the preferable form of policy : whether, and on what occasions, the reli- nion of the New Testament authorizes the destruc- tion of lawful rulers and dutiful subjects : and how far the teachers of this doctrine may be actuated by disappointed ambition; a turbulent spirit ; attach- ment to a party or to a theory; envy of those in supe- rior station ; or a desire to gain, either a name, by vending paradoxes ; or popularity, by endavouring to provoke the censure of the law. — To clamour against the inequality of conditions in monarchical government, may be a popular topic : and among -people fond of novelty and speculation, and among
CHAP. II. § U. MORAL SCfEXCE. 19^
those wlio know not that political eqaalicy is im- possible, and though possible, would not be expe- dient, it may have influence. But if diversity of ranks contribute to public good, as in monarchy (I mean fiee monarchy) it certainly does, — -to exclaim, ' Why should that fellow walk before me and be « called Lord, while I am only Sirj or plain Tho- * mas,* is not magnanimity, but the peevish pride' of an envious and little mind ; qui .stupet in tituUs €t ima<sinibiis ; which instead of undervaluin!:r these distinctions, as it pretends to do, shews that it ad- mires and immoderately overvalues them.
800. I have heard modern republicans declaim on the prosperity of Rome under its consuls, and of Enirland under Oliver Cromwell. But that the Roman republic was generally a tumultuous go-' vernment, and owed its preservation (as already observed) to a despotic principle, which happened fortunately to be interwoven in its constitution, is w-ell known. And it is also well known, that Eng- land in the interval between the death of Charles and the restoration of his son^ owed its prosperity, not to the freedom of its government, bat to two other causes entirely different ; to the great abi- lities of a few individuals, as Cromwell, Blake, and some others, and to the usurper's arbitrary admi- nistration. What was republican in tlie state, if there was in it any thing republican, had no effect, at least no good effect ; what was despotical in Cromwell happened from the circumstances of tha^
i96 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
time to have very great effects. In fact, England "was never less republican than under Cromwell.
SECTION III.
Of Despotism.
801. I SHALL now make a remark or two on Despotism. Where it prevails, the will of the prince is the law ; and therefore the government must alwavs be bad, and would indeed be intoler- able, if he were not afraid of his people, and if there were not some established customs, which supply the place of laws, and which even a ty- rant dares not violate. A despotic prince is ge- nerally ignorant, sensual, and idle. He is there- fore inclined to commit the management of his af- fairs, not to many persons, for that would give him too much trouble ; but to one person, to whom he transfers his power, and who has long been dis- tinguished in Mahometan governments, which are all despotical, by the appellation of V'mr. In some of these governments, the sovereign declares him- self the heir of all his subjects, and seizes on a man's estate the moment he dies, and often before ; which effectually destroys industry, as well as do- mestic happiness. In others, he is satisfied with a certain proportion, as three, four, or five, per cent, on the value of inheritances. There being no law but his will, the right of the successor to the crown is frequently uncertain. Sometimes, how-
CHAP. II. § III. MORAL SCIENCE. 197
ever, it is settled by the order of birth ; and some- times by the will of the former prince. If there be competitors for the crown, a civil war ensues, and victory determines the succession. And the new sovereign, to prevent like trouble for the future, removes his brothers and near relations out of the way ; by imprisoning them for life, or murdering them, or putting out their eyes, or making them swallow drugs that deprive them of reason.
802. Extensive empires have a tendency to be- come despotical : for the sovereign must keep a great military force, which makes him, if not strictly limited by law, master of the lives and for- tunes of his people. The great extent of the Ro- man empire was one chief cause of that despotism, which came at last to prevail in it. In warm and fruitful countries, unless where a spirit of com- merce and manufactures takes place, there is sel- dom that activity which we find in more temperate climates ; and this indolence of the people inclines them to submit to despotic government. And where are very wide continents, as in the northern parts of Europe and Asia, the natives of the inland provinces, having little intercourse with the rest of the world, and being for that reason very ignorant, remain satisfied with their own bad government, because they have never heard of better. Besides, nothing but force is necessary to establish despo- tism ; whereas a free monarchy like ours, is a work of the greate^^t art.
V3S ELEMENTS OF FART III.
S03. in many parts of Europe there has been, from very early times, a spirit of activity, and a love of freedom, which may have been owing, partly to the climate and soil making industry ne- cessary, and so giving scope to the exertions of genius; and partly, perhaps, to the situation of the several countries ; divided from one another, as they are, by seas and mountains, which break them into distinct nations, and yet, by rendering com- merce and mutual intercourse easy, give rise to emulation and the various arts of life. I would not impute the characters and fates of nations to climate, soil, and situation merely; I only say, that these things may have influence. But Providence varies the characters of nations, and raises one, and brings down another, in order to accomplish its own good purposes : and we find, that the cha- racters, governments, laws, and manners of na- tions are not fixed, but perpetually changing. How different are the modern inhabitants of Greece and Italy, and, I may add, of our own country, from the ancient !
804. The principle of despotism, I mean the human passion that supports it, is fear ; for when the people throw off their fear of the tyrant, he is undone ; and if he were not afraid of them, his tyranny would be intolerable. Now fear is a pas- sion that depresses the mind, and makes it inactive: and this may be given as one reason for the long dwration of some despotical governments. The rcr
CHAP. il. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 199
Jigion of Mahomet is another. It was brought in by a tyrant, and whithersoever it goes, tyranny and ignorance go along with it.
SECTION IV.
Of Monardiy ; and the British Conslitut'a^n.
805. Monarchy is * government by one per- ♦ son who is subject to law.' Between the condi- tion of a king, and that of the common people, the distance is so great, that if both were to have in- fluence in the government, and if there were no other order of men in a nation, they would never agree ; the people would be suspicious of the king, and the king afraid of the people : whence conten- tion would arise, and continue, either till the king made himself master of the people, which would establish despotism ; or till the people got the bet- ter of the king, which would introduce republic, or anarchy. To free monarchy, therefore, a nobility is essential j as an intermediate order of men be- tween the king and the people. It is their interest to maintain the privileges of both. For, as they derive their dignities from the king, it may be sup- posed that they will be particularly attached to him ; and as they must in general be persons of wealth and influence, the king by their means is enabled to defend himself against the encroach-
200 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
meiits of the people. At the same time, it is the interest of" the nobles, both to be on good terms with the people, who are always a formidable body ; and also to support the power of the king, because the continuation of their own dignity de- pends on that of his. The same house of com- mons that put Charles I. to death voted the house of lords to be useless : and we lately saw in France, when the people had imprisoned their king, that they immediately resolved on the abolition of no- bility.
806. A well-balanced monarchy, consisting of a king, nobility, and commons, and in which all men, the king himself not excepted, are subject to Jaw, seems to have many advantages over the other forms of government. With respect to foreign nations, it may, by vesting the executive power in the king, act with more secrecy and expedition than any of the republican forms ; and it is less liable to dangerous contentions at home ; because it is the interest of all ranks of persons in it mutually to maintain the privileges of one another; and because the executive power in the hands of one person can operate with more energy, than when it is committed to a senate, or to a number of magistrates.
807. Monarchy is either elective or hereditary, in the former, the king is chosen by the nobles ; in the latter he succeeds by inheritance. Elective monarchy is liable to continual faction, and on the
CHAP. II. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 201
death of every king to dangerous convulsions. And an elective monarch is under strong tempta- tions to be oppressive, because he has now an op- portunity of enriching his family ; tlie interest of which he will be apt to consider as unconnected with that of the nation. Hereditary monarchy is not liable to these inconveniences, and does not permit any of its subjects to aspire to sovereignty, which is entirely beyond their reach ; and the king and his family can have no interests separate from those of the community. Most of the European monarchies are hereditary. The pope is an elect- ive prince, and his subjects are said to be the most wretched in Europe. — It seems to follow, from what has been said, that ' the best form of govern- * ment is hereditary monarchy, regulated by law.* This, it is presumed, will appear with und>;ubted evidence, when with the forms of policy above mentioned we compare the following brief account of the British constitution.
808. If all the rights of sovereignty were com- mitted to the same man, or to tlie same body of men, there could be no liberty ; because the most oppressive measures might be adopted, and laws made to warrant them : and the effect would be despotism. In order, therefore, to constitute a free monarchy, the rights of sovereignty, especially the greater rights (^ 774), the legislative, exe- cutive, and judiciary, must be committed to differ- ent men, or different bodies of men j'and so dis-
202 ELEMENtS OF PART III.
posed, as that the executive and legislative powers shall mutually be a check on each other, so tar at least as to prevent abuse and encroachment. In Great Britain, they are so disposed: the executive- power being in the king only, and the legislative in the parliament. — Of the judiciary power I shall speak hereafter. — To constitute a tree monarchy, it is further necessary, that the interest of those who make the laws shall be so connected with the interest of those who must obey them, that there shall be no danger of oppressive laws being made. That this is according to the spirit of our constitu- tion will appear from what follows.
809. Our laws are made by the parliament. The parliament consists of the king, the house of lords, and the house of commons. The house of lords consists of the lords spiritual and the lords temporal. The spiritual lords are the two Eng- lish archbishops, and the twenty-four English bishops ; who, though not peers, are called lords of parliament, and who sit and vote with the peers or temporal lords. The peers are, all the English nobility, and sixteen Scotch peers who are chosen as representatives by the nobility of Scotland. The house of commons consists of live hundred and fifty-eight persons, who are freely chosen by the people of Great Britain, to represent them in the legislature, and to vote and determine for them. So that our government comprehends the principles of monarchy, aristo^
eaAP. H. 5 IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 203
cra<;y, and democracy united : a state of things ^vhich never took place in any other country ; which Tacitus, one of the most profound poHticians of antiquity, seems to have considered as impossible ; but which Aristotle thought, if it could be estab- lished, was likely to form the most perfect policy *, The passage of Aristotle referred to is howcvei* somewhat obscure.
810. It may be supposed, that the British nobi- lity, on account of their rank and privileges, will be obnoxious to the jealousy of the people. If, therefore, the representatives of the people, that is the house of commons, could make laws without consent of the nobles, they would divest them of their privileges, or render them insignificant, that is, would abolish the order of nobles ; the conse- quence whereof, for reasons already given, would be a dissolution of the monarchy. — If the king and nobles could make laws without consent of the commons, the people would be ruined, and the go- vernment become, like most other European mo- narchies, a wretched mixture of despotism and aris- tocracy ;— ^if the lords and commons could make laws without consent of the king, he would be nothing ; and the government would be republi- can : and if the king alone could make laws, it would be despotisni.1 — AVith us, therefore, no law ^an \^e made, abrogated, or amended, without the
*Anst. PqI. 11. +,
204* ELEMENTS OF PART III.
joint authority of the king, tlie lords, and the com- mons.
811. The people of this island, being too nume- rous to meet in one assembly, and having each man his own business to mind, cannot appear in the legislature in any other way than by their de- puties or representatives freely chosen. Now it is neither necessary nor expedient, that every one of the people should vote, or have a right to vote, in the election of representatives. They who depend on another person for their subsistence, would not venture to offend that person, by voting contrary to his will J and therefore in public affairs could not be said to have a will of their own : so that their voting would give them no influence, and serve only to give too much influence to the person on whom they were dependent. It is to be observed, too, that all the lowest orders of the people are in all nations isnorant of the interests of their coun- try, as well as of the nature of the government j and, on these as well as on otlier accounts, very unfit for choosing lawgivers : and in a nation so popu- lous as this, if every individual had a vote in choos- ing the members of the house of commons, elec- tions would be public grievances, and the collect- ing of votes impracticable.
812. In England, a freeholder of forty shillings a, year is entitled to vote ; that sum, when this law was made, about three hundred and fifty years ago, being equal in value to at least thirty pounds
CUAP. ir. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 205
of our present money (§ 721), and therefore suf- ficient to make a man independent with respect to the necessaries of life, and consequently to give him in public matters a will of his own. In Scot- land, those freeholders only can vote, who hold their lands of the crown, that is, who do not hold them of any subject; and whose valued rents, that is, whose rents as stated in the registers of the kingdom, amount to something more than thirty- three pounds sterling a-year. This at least is the general rule ; but there are many exceptions, too minute to be mentioned here. It appears then, that the constitution of Eno-land is more democra- tical than that of Scotland ; which indeed appears from many other circumstances, that will be men- tioned hereafter. If tlierefore in Scotland there be too few voters, in England there seem to be too many. In Yorkshire alone are twenty-five thou- sand: which is more than thrice as many as there are in all Scotland.
813. According to the spirit of our laws, which, however, in this particular is too often eluded, the representatives of the people, who must all be men of considerable fortune, ought to be cho- sen, each by the freeholders of that district where- in he resides or has property : that so his in- terest and that of his electors may be the same ; that they may be acquainted with the charac- ter of the person whom they elect ; and that he nay know the circumstances and concerns of the district for which lie is elected. Yet, when elect-
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C(3, be is not to consider himself as concerned for that district only, or even chiefly ; for tl>c party- spirit of individual corporations or provinces ought not to find its wav into the great council of the na- tion. He is one of the lawgivers of the whole empire, and is not obliged to be determined, in his parliamentary conduct, by the opinion of his electors ; nor is he answerable to them, of ta any body, for what he may do in parliament : though no doubt he may think it in many cases prudent, and in some cases his duty, to pay a particular re- gard to the sentiments of those who elect him. In short, it is understood, that to their representatives freely chosen, tiie people who choose thenv commit their whole legislative authority, without keeping back any part of it. If it \vere not for this, when the people of a town or province were dissatisfied •with the conduct of their representati\'es, conten- tions, law-suits, and insurrection, might happen, and lay restraint on the freedom of the legislative assembly ; and thus we should be exposed to the turbulence and unsteadiness of republican govern- inent.
814". The representatives of the several shires, that is, of the landed interest, are called knights of the shire: for anciently they were knights; and, in allusion to that circumstance, they must at their lection wear a sword. The cities arwl boroughs of the kingdom send also to parliament their re- presentatives, who are called citizens and bur- gesses, and represent the commercial interest.
EH A p. H. § IV. MORAL SCIEXCE. 207
Learnir>g is not overlooked in the genei^ repre- sentation : each of tlie two English universities sends two members to parliament. But all thfe members of the house of commons, whatever they represent, are, when met in parliament, perfectly equal, and in the house may speak their mind free- ly on all matters proposed to their consideration. And the king must not take notice of any thing that is said in either house of parliament, unless a report be made to him by order of the house : nor is any member answerable, when out of the par- liament-house, for any thing he may have said in it, unless the house itself declare what he has said to be illegal. The obvious meaning of all this is, that both houses shall be perfectly free to speak, debate, and deliberate, as they please, without hav- ing reason to fear any person, or any human power whatever.
815. When one is told, that the representatives of the commons of England and Wales are five hundred and thirteen, and those of Scotland forty- five, and recollects the appearance of these coun- tries in the map, one is at first apt to think, that the representation is unequal, and to Scotland very- unfavourable. But it is not so much so as one would imagine. England is much more fruitful^ wealthy, and populous, than North Britain ; and pays two millions of land-tax, when Scotland pays o^ land-taj: only forty eight thousand pounds. And it seems not unreasonable, that in tlie legislative
SOS ELEMENTS OF PART III.
assembly tliat part of the nation should have most influence, which contributes most to the public expence. If, therefore, by the articles of the union, Scotland was too little favoured in one way, by being allowed so few representatives, it «eems in another way to have been sufficiently fa- voured, by being required to pay so small a pro- portion of land-tax. In fact, Yorkshire alone pays as much land-tax as Scotland does.
816. Yet, when we come to particulars, it is no doubt unequal, that an English borough of three or four hundred people should send two members to parliament, for some such boroughs there are ; when Edinburgh, v/hich contains eighty thousand inhabitants, sends only one member, and when Glas- gow, which contains forty thousand, is only one of five boroughs that are all represented by one member. But inequalities equally great may be found in England. The cities of London and Westminster, which contain eight hundred thou- sand people, send only six members ; and some boroughs still continue to send two, which have fallen to decay so totally, as to be reduced to a iQ\y houses. The law that regulates these mat- ters was thought reasonable when it was made ; and from the fluctuating nature of manufacture and commerce, it must happen, that, in a course of years, some tov.ns from being small will rise to opulence, and that others which were formerly considerable will dwindle av.ay. ' And it is per-
CHAP. II. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 50&
haps better that inequalities of this kind, as long as they are not vey-y material to the public, should remain as they are, than that fundamental laws of long; standinjT should be altered. The Romans were taught to look on the institutions of their forefathers with rehgious veneration : more majo- rum was among them a phrase of very solemn im- port.
817. A more equal representation is however wished by many ; and has several times been at- tempted of late years in the house of commons, though rejected by a considerable majority : and much might be said, and high authorities quoted, both for and against it. Against it, one might say, that, if boroughs were to be stripped of their privileges merely because they have become poor, the people, considering the fundamental laws as variable, would lose their confidence in the go- vernment : a circumstance, which, in a nation like this, where every thing depends on public credit, and the idea of a steady constitution, might be attended with great danger. That these ine- qualities have little or no infl-uence on public pros- perity, may appear from this ; that several flou- rishing towns in England, as Manchester, Bir- mingham, Halifax (which have risen to great opulence within these few years), send, as towns, no members to parliament, and do not, so far as I know, consider the want of this privilege as a grievance.
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818. The commons meet in one house, and the lords in another ; for as their business and privi- leges are different, their places of meeting must be so too. When the king appears in parliament, he sits on a high seat in the house of lords, in his royal robes, and with the crown on his head ; and the commons are then summoned to attend in the same house ; and he never appears there, unless to meet the parliament when it convenes in the beginning of tlie session ; or to give his assent to such bills as have been agreed to by both houses ; or to prorogue the parliament ; or to dissolve it. When he cannot conveniently go himself, he may do all this by commissioners duly authorized by him for that purpose : and he may prorogue, or he may dissolve the parliament, by proclamation. When he meets the parliament in the beginning of the session, and prorogues it at the end, he com- monly makes a speech, relative to the present state of affairs. His proclamations, if founded in law, or tending to enforce it, have the authority of laws. But sometimes they may be necessary to prevent public evils, against which the law cannot make suitable provision ; as in the case of laying re- straints on commerce, in order to prevent the im- portation of the plague. Such proclamations, though not founded in law, are allowed from the necessity of the case; and the first thing the legis- lature does, when it meets after their taking effect, is to make a law to ratify them, and declare
CHAP. IL § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 2lt
those persons blameless who were concerned in them.
819. Each house of parliament has certain pri- vileges of its own, whereof it holds itself to be the sole judge, and wherewith no other power in the kingdom can intermeddle. These are not all de- fined by our laws. For if it were certainly known how far privilege of parliament extends, a tyrannical king, say our lawyers, might oppress those members who opposed his measures ; and do this in such a wav, without violatinjjr the law of privilege, that parliamept could not legally relieve them : which would infringe the freedom of the legislature. As individuals, however, members of parliament are suliject to the law as well as other men ; only while it sits, and for a certain time after it rises, they cannot, because their service as lawgivers may be wanted, be imprisoned for debt j which is a privilege that lords of parliament enjoy at all times; they being considered in law as the king's counsellors. Some others of their privi- leges are fixed and known ; such as that of free- dom of speech within the house. And a claim of peerage, and a contested election of a Scotch peerjr can be settled by the house of lords only ; as con- tested elections of commoners are settled by the house of commons.
820. A proposal for a law is called a bill. A bill approved by the commons falls to nothing if rejected by tbe lords j and, though approved by
212 ELEMENTS OK PART HI,
the lords, is null if rejected by the commons : and though it should pass both houses, is nothing with- out the king*s assent, which he may withhold, without assigning any reason. But there has been no instance of a royal negative since the reign of William III. The king and parliament generally understand one another in matters of this sort ; and decency requires that there should be no op- position of the one to the other. It would be vain to attempt to make a law contrary to his will ; be- cause the parliament, as legislators, can do no- thing final without his consent ; and because he may at any time interrupt their proceedings, by proroguing or dissolving them. Thus our consti- tution is so balanced, that not one of the three powers can make any legal encroachment on either of the others. — All bills take their rise either in the house of commons, or in the house of lords. For the king has no other share in the legislature than the right of ratifying by his assent, or of an- nulHng by his negative,
821. When a bill is approved by both houses, and has obtained the royal assent, it is a law, and is called an act of parliament, and must continue in force, till it be abrogated or amended by the same powers that made it, that is, by another act of parliament. And it may bind every person in the nation, the king himself not excepted. Some- times, when a bill has passed one house, the other house makes amendments or alterations in it ', to
CHAP. ir. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 213
which, however, both houses must agree, other- wise tlie bill comes to nothing. But if it be a money-bill, that is a proposal for raising money by act of parliament, it must take its rise in the house of commons, and the lords, though they may reject, cannot make any alterations in it. The reason usually given for this jealousy of the commons, with respect to money bills, is as fol- lows.
8'2'2. The great engine of government is money, without which political affairs cannot be carried on. Now the nobility being more connected with the king than the commons are, it is supposed, that they might be willing to gratify him, by im- posing taxes which, though to them not burden- some, on account of their great wealth, might be oppressive to the people. But this reason does not account for the jealousy above mentioned ; as no- thing that the lords could do with respect to mo- ney-bills, or any other bills, would be valid with- out the consent of the commons. This therefore may be considered as one of those old customs, whereof there are some in every nation, which are allowed to have all the force of laws, though they cannot be fully accounted for. Anciently perhaps it may have been supposed, that the commons were better qualified than the lords, to judge of the expediency of money-bills, and manage the business connected with them ; and hence it is
iil4f ELEMENTS OF PART III.
possible, that the practice may have arisen. But this is only conjecture.
823. All the people of Great Britain Tnay be divided into three ranks, the king, the nobility, and the commons. As a commoner is tried by a jury of commoners, it is reasonable that the nobi- lity should be tried by persons of their own rank. Accordingly, in all criminal cases, the lords are tried by the house of lords, and condemned or ac- quitted by the majority of votes. Before this house, too, all persons must be tried who are im- peached by the commons, that is, against whom the house of commons brings a public and criminal accu- sation ; and, in all m.atters of pro|:>erty, the house of lords is our highest court of judicature, from which there is no appeal, and whose decisions ad- mit not of either amendment or revisal. This too is reasonable. A supreme court there must be somewhere ; and the lords of parliament, on ac- count of their dignity and wealth, must be least liable to undue influence ; and, at the same time, by their great advantages in respect of education, must be supposed to have the best opportunities of being well insti-ucted in the laws of the land. In determining appeals, this house commonly de- cides according to the opinion of those who are called the law lords, that is, of those peers who fill the highest stations in the law j and who at all times have, or may have, the opinions of other Jlugiish judges of high station, particularly those of
CHAP. II. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 215
the courts of king's bench and common pleas, of barons of exchequer of a certain rank, and of the masters of the court of chancery. It is not likely that persons of such rank and learning, and who in matters of law may have recourse to such au- thorities, will give a wrong sentence. Certain it is, that the sentences of the house of lords are less complained of than those of any other court. It is true that complaint would avail nothing ; but for all that, people will complain who think themselves injured. At Athens, the supreme court of judi- cature was no other than the assembly of the peo- ple, which might consist of twenty thousand per- sons ; many of them, we may suppose, very igno- rant, and very many liable to undue influence. A poor man, therefore, opposed to a rich one ; or one who had little popularity opposed to one who had much, could hardly fail to lose his cause.
824. If the executive power were in the hands of a person who had no vote in the making of laws, the legislative power might, by new laws, en- croach on it so far, as to take it into their own hands ; which, for reasons already given, would destroy the monarchy, and introduce republic, in Great Britain ; therefore the executive power be- longs to the king, on whom no legal encroach- ment can be made, because without his consent no law earl be either made or altered ; and it is not to be supposed, that he will ever consent to any bill which would divest him of his privileges.
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and reduce him, from beins; the first person in the nation, to a state of insignificance. In the exercise of this executive power, he cannot be checked direcU ly ; lie may declare war, or make peace, when he pleases, and employ his military force in any service he may think proper : for in matters of so great moment, it would not be right that the public bu- siness should be liable to interruption. And if the parliament could directly hinder him from do- ing these things, the executive power would be in them, and not in him ; which would destroy the constitution. Indirectly, however, they may hin- der him, or at least be a check upon him ; as will be seen by and by.
825. Further : if the executive power were in the hands, not of one person, but of many per- sons, they might pursue different measures, or disagree in opinion : at any rate, if they made a bad use of their power, the ])eople would -not know on what person or persons they might lay the blame ; or how they could obtain security against future inconveniences of the same kind. 13ut when the executive power is in the hands of one person, on whom the eyes of the whole com- munity are fixed, no inconvenience of this sort can happen. Let it be observed too, that this per- son must be at the head of the military force ; :which is never effectually commanded except by one person. When the Roman senate required Caesar to disband his army, he refused to do so,
CHAP. II. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 217
unless Pompey, bis rival and enemy, would also disband bis: wben Queen Anne ordered tbeduke of MarlboroLigb, tbe most successful general of mo- dern times, to resign his commission, be did it in- stantly ; well knowing, that his army, who had always considered their sovereign as their com- mander-in-chief, would have abandoned him if be bad not. Innumerable examples, from both an- cient and modern history, might be brought to shew, that military commands, where there is not a commander-in-chief, distinctly specified and ac- knowledged, are generally unsuccessful. . 826. Further still : if the executive power were in the hands of one person, who is elected into that high office from time to time, any ambitious man might flatter himself that one time or other he might be chosen : which would give rise to those contentions for supremacy, which have always dis- .turbed the peace, and often endangered the exist- ence, of republican governments. But our laws have wisely vested the executive power in the king only: no other man, or body of men, can ever have it, so long as our laws exist : and at such a distance above every other dignity have they raised his, that no subject, let his wealth or abilities be ever so great, can raise himself to the rank of roy- alty. The state of the king of Great Britain is very great : the noblest peers in the realm are am- bitious of holding offices in his household ; and his children, grandchildren, brothers, and uncles, who
218 ELEMENTS OF PART HI.
are called princes of the blood royal, have preceden- cy before all other subjects. This is not the effect of pride or vanity, either in the nation, or in the mp- narch: these high privileges are secured to the royal family bylaw ; and all is the effect of true political wisdom. For, by thus raising the king so high above every other porson, all those ambitious at- tempts at sovereignty, which have bred so great and frequent disturbance in the world, are pre- vented, as far as human prudence can prevent them.
827. But in his executive capacity the king is not absolute : the commons have indirectly, though effectually, a check upon him in these two ways. First, by the right of raising money from year to year, or of refusing it ; without which money he could not act ; because his fleets and armies would not be paid : and secondly, by the right of calling his ministers to account for their administration, and impeaching them before the house of lords ; in consequence of which they may be liable to pu- nishment, if they shall be found to have deserved it by giving the king pernicious counsel. For our law supposes, that the king himself can do no wrong ; and it is certain, that without corrupt mi- nisters and evil counsellors, a king who is subject to law cannot do much wrong. And therefore, to try the king for a crime is illegal, and while the constitution lasts, impossible. For any other power in the kingdom, the house of commons, fgr ex-
CHAP. n. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 219
ample, would, by laying hands on the king, both usurp the executive power, and also annihilate one branch of the legislature ; and so overturn the go- vernment. In matters of property, however, they who act by the king's authority may be prosecuted in a court of justice, and obliged to pay damages, if they shall be found to have done wrong j which, in a country like this, where so many questions arise relating to the public revenue, must some- times happen.
82S. The parliament should not be always as- sembled, for this would be a hardship on the mem- bers J nor should it have too long vacations, for that might be injurious to the public. For reasons formerly given, the king is the only person who can call this assembly together. And he may, when he pleases, prorogue, or even dissolve it ; for it cannot be a parliament without his consent. If it could, it might throw such difficulties in the way of public business, as would amount to an usurpa- tion of the executive power ; as Charles I. found to his sad experience, when he rashly consented to a law empowering (what was called) the long par- liament to sit till it should dissolve itself. A dis- solution of parliament, when made by the king's authority, in consequence of their opposition to his measures, is nothing more than the king appealing from the commons to their constituents the people. If the people be satisfied with the conduct of their representatives, they will re-elect them, and the
220 ELEMENTS OF PART 111.
king will be obliged to change his measures and his ministers ; if the people choose other repre- sentatives, it is a proof that they were dissatisfied with the last parliament, and approve of the mea- sures that the king was pursuing when he found himself obliged to dissolve it.
829. He puts an end to every session, by pro- roguing the parliament, that is, by dispensing with its attendance for a certain time, commonly about six weeks ; and when these are elapsed, it must meet again, unless prorogued a second time by proclamation, or oftener, according to the king's pleasure. In this way, the convenience of the members and the interest of the public are both at- tended to. But he is obliged by law to hold par- liaments frequently ; and for this great wliile one has been held every year ; which must continue to be the case, as long as supplies of public money are granted from year to year. The adjournment of the parliament is the continuation of the session from one day to another, and is done by the par- liament's own authority. The one house may be adjourned when the other is not adjourned ; but prorogation dismisses both houses.
830. As the law has stood since the year one thousand seven hundred and sixteen, the parlia- ment, if not dissolved by royal authority, is dissolv- ed by law at the end of seven years ; and then, as in the case of its being dissolved by the king, a general flection takes place, of members to sit in the house
CHAP. II. § II. MORAL SCIENCE. 221
of commons, and of the sixteen representatives of the Scotch nobility. Formerly parliaments were triennial, that is, were dissolved by law at the end of three years ; and these are thought by some to be more favourable to liberty than septennial ones ; for, it is said, if the king's ministers want to ob- tain by bribery undue influence in parliament, they may more easily, and at less expence, bribe once in seven years than once in three. . But it may be answered, that, if parliaments are willing to be bribed, a triennial one is as little as a septennial to be depended on ; the only difference will be, that the former will be satisfied with a sm.aller bribe. In fact, the corruption of parliaments is only a party-word ; it is a charge which the minority ge- nerally bring against the majority who vote with the minister. We are not to suppose, that mem- bers of parliament have less integrity than other men. Even more integrity and a more delicate sense of honour are to be expected from them, considering the station they fill, and the very im- portant trust reposed in them. Elections are at- tended, especially in England, with much dissipa- tion and neglect of business, and therefore ought not to be frequent. And a man who has sat in parliament five or six years is likely to be more expert in the business of it, and to have his par- liamentary character better known, than one who has been a member two years only or three.
831. Supplies of money, for defraying the pub-
2^22 ELEMENTS OF PART 111.
lie expence, are granted by act of parliament from year to year ; because the public expence may be greater one year than another ; and because the executive power, winch cannot act without money, should in this indirect way be dependent on the legislative. It is true, that many of our taxes are perpetual. But it is no less true, that some of our greatest articles of public expence are perpetual too; as the payment of the interest of the national debt, whereof I shall speak by and by. Before the revolution in the year one thousand six hun- dred and eighty-eight, the king paid his fleets and armies out of his own revenue, which for that reason was then much greater than it is now. But, since the revolution, from a principle more favour- able to economy, as well as to liberty, money for the support of military force has been granted by parliament from year to year; and more or less is granted, as more or less is thought necessary.
832. No person can sit in either house of par- liament, who is under twenty-one years of age, who is not a native of the British empire, who is not a protcstant, who is not of such fortune as makes him independent, and who is not well af- fected to the present constitution. And thus, we have no reason to fear, that imprudent laws, pro- ceeding: from ifjnorance or want of education in the lawgivers, or detrimental to our civil and reli- gious rights, will ever be made. And there is al- ways in both parliament houses, what we call the op-
CHAP. II. § IV. MORAL SCIEXCE* 223
position ; who watch with a jealous eye the conduct of their opponents in the ministry, and are acute to discern, and happy to expose, any mistake or in- advertence in the administration of affairs ; which is another security of the same tendency. And, in all ordinary cases, between the time of bringing in a bill into either house, and passing it into a law, several days must intervene ; and the bill it- self is not only considered and corrected in com- mittees, but is also three several times publicly read in each house, and may at each reading be argued upon, though this is commonly done at the second reading : and a copy of it is generally printed, and information conveyed concerning it, by means of newspapers, into every part of the kingdom ; so that, if any bill should be very of- fensive to the nation, remonstrances may be made against it, which, if urged with decency and found- ed in reason, will undoubtedly be attended to, and incline the legislature, if the bill be already passed into a law, to repeal or amend that law in a future session of parliament.
833. The sovereign of the British empire may be either a king or a queen ; but women do not suc- ceed to the crown, except on failure of males. By common law and immemorial custom, the crown is hereditary in the person who wears it, and de- scends to his or to her nearest heir. But this right of inheritance may be limited, or even changed, by act of parliament ; so that, if at any time the
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heir-apparent should be an idiot, or declare himself an atheist, a Mahometan, or a Roman catholic ; or avow any other opinions, which the law forbids such a person to entertain ; or if the king were to re- sign the crown ; or if the royal line were to fail ; an act of parliament might alter and determine the succession. Thus we are secured, as far as human wisdom can secure us, against the evils both of ty- rannical and of elective monarchy.
834. The chief duty of the sovereign is, to go- vern according to law. The king, therefore, or the queen, must, at his or her coronation, take a solemn oath, that he, or that she, will govern the people according to law ; will execute justice in mercy ; and will maintain the laws of God, and the protestant religion as by law established. This oath comprehends the whole duty of a British so- vereign ; and as the people on their part are bound to allegiance, here is plainly a covenantor contract between the sovereign and the people.
835. The king can do nothing but what the law authorises, or permits him to do ; but his pre- rogative is as extensive as any sovereign, who has a regard to the rights of humanity, can desire. His person tlie law declares to be sacred ; and it is a capital crime to intend his death, even though the intention should not be executed. He can make war and peace, send and receive ambassa- dors, enter into treaties with foreign nations, raise ajinies, and furnish out fleets ; and to all his mi-
GHAP. 11, § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 22iS
litary officers by sea and land he grants com- inissions, and may recal them at pleasure. He is commander-in-chief of all the military force in his dominions ; he chooses his own council and mini- sters ; and appoints all the great officers of church and state, and all judges of the rank of sheriff and upwards. He is the source of honour, and may create peers and knights, and introduce new orders of peerage and knighthood. He gives cur- rency to the coin ; he is the general conservator of the peace of the kingdom ; all criminal prose- cutions are carried on in his name, as all crimes are supposed to be committed against his peace. Some other parts of the royal prerogative were formerly mentioned.
836. The expence of our government is defray- ed by taxes imposed by act of parliament. Some of these are regulated annually, as those on malt and land ; which last is more or less according to the exigencies of the state. Others are perpetual, on account of a perpetual demand which there is on government for certain sums of money ; but were this demand to cease, or become less, parlia- ment woidd abolish, or lessen the perpetual taxes. These are, the customs paid on goods exported and imported ; the excise, paid on goods made use oi'y and on some goods sold by retail ; the salt duty ; the various stamp duties ; the postage of letters ; the taxes on houses, windows, horses, wheel- carriages ; and many others. The produce
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of these perpetual taxes, after paying the expence of collection and management, amounts to up- wards of thirteen millions sterling annually ; which sum is applied to several necessary purposes, one of which is the payment of the yearly interest of the national debt.
837. That this may be understood, it is to be observed, that soon after the revolution, the ex- pence of government was such, that King Wil- liam's ministers did not choose, for fear of disgust- ing the people, to raise by taxes so much money as was necessary ; the government being at that time not thoroughly settled, and rebellions being apprehended in favour of the abdicated family. The ministry, therefore, thought proper, in imi- tation of the Dutch policy (for which it may be supposed that William, as prince of Orange, would have a predilection), to borrow great sums of mo- ney to answer the present expence, giving the cre- dit of government as a security for payment ; and raising by taxes no more than was necessary to pav the interest of these borrowed sums : leaving it to their successors, either to pay oft' the debt, or to continue to pay the annual interest, as should be found most convenient.
838. This was the origin of the national debt ; which, instead of being paid off, was increased by the expensive wars of Queen Anne, and has been increasing, almost from that time to this. For succeeding ministers adopted the policy of King
CHAP. II. ^, IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 227
William's ministry ; and chose rather to pay thei interest, and even add to the capital debt, than to pay oft" the latter. Part of it has, however, been paid off at different times. Between the conclu- sion of the war in 1763, and the breaking out of the American war in 1775, ten millions of it were paid off"; and nine or ten millions have been paid since the commencem.ent of the present peace. But it was said to anaount last year to no less a sum than two hundred and forty millions : to pay the interest of which, the perpetual taxes are mortgaged by act of parliament. The yearly in- t-erest of this debt, including the expence of ma- nagement, amounted last year (1791) to nine mil- lions and one hundred and sixty-three thousand pounds. For the creditors of the public are sa- tisfied with less than five per cent, for their money lent to government ; one reason of which was al- ready mentioned (§ 724), and another will appear by and by.
839. In the year 1701, the national debt is said to have been fourteen millions ; at Queen Anne*3 death, in 1714, fifty millions; in 1 722, fifty.five millions; in J 726, fffty-two millions; in 1739, forty-seven millions; in 1763, one hundred and forty-six millions; in 1775, one hundred and thir- ty-five millions ; and now it is said to be what is mentioned above. Hence some apprehend that it can never be paid ; and that, of course, the na- tion must be bankrupt. But this is a mistarke.
S'ilS ELEMENTS OF PART III.
For, by computations, \vhich cannot he said to be perfectly exact, but which have been made by persons of candour and intelligence, it is found, that the annual income of the people of Great, Britain, including the profits arising from com- merce, agriculture, manufactures, &c. amounts to about one hundred and twenty millions a-year : so that, supposing the debt to be double this sum, that is, two hundred and forty millions, and sup- posing things to continue as they are, the nation is ill no greater danger of bankruptcy, than that man would be, who, with an estate in land of one hundred and twenty pounds a-year, had two hun- dred and forty pounds of debt. It is possible, in- deed, that the national debt might for some time increase if a war were to break out ; but it is also both possible and probable, that, by our improve- ments in agriculture, commerce, and manufacture, the national income may also increase ; which has actually been the case for many years past. And if we are permitted to live in peace, it cannot be doubted, that the plans now in agitation for lessening the debt will soon be made effectual ; as indeed some of them have been already, within these few years, to a degree that far transcends expectation. Whether the public debt might not, by more compendious methods, be paid off or les- sened, it is not for me to determine. I no doubt have, as others may have had, favourite notions, or whims, on this subject j but am too little con-
CHAP. II. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE.
229
fident of my abilities as a projector, to lay them before the public : at any rate, they could not ap- pear with propriety in this place.
840. If the half, or three-fouilhs, of the debt could be paid, it would not perhaps be expedient to pay off the rest. That this may be understood, it is necessary to observe, that hew'ho has lent his money to government, and receives for it annual- ly a certain interest, may sell the debt to another, who thus becomes entitled to the yearly interest, and is also the proprietor of the money lent. This purchaser may in like manner sell the debt to an- other, and he to a third, and so forward : and thus, among those to whom government owes mo- ney, there is a perpetual shifting of property, which promotes a circulation of credit, that is found to be not a little advantageous to a commercial people. Many persons choose to become the credi- tors of the public. Such a credit they who deal in these matters know how to turn to account in various ways. And they consider government se- curity as the best ; or as equal at least to any other. For, while the constitution stands, that security must be good ; and were it to be over- turned, all other sorts of property would be equally insecure.
841. Yet the creditors of the public have not always the same confidence in government security. While public affairs prosper, they are free from apprehension ; and if they were then to sell their
230 ELEMENTS OF FABT HI.
property in the funds, whicli is called stock, would exact a high price for it. But, in a season of bad news, tliey are more timorous, and many of tliem choose to sell at a lower price than they would liave exacted a few days before. Hence it is, that stocks are said to rise and fall. He who, from su- perior sagacity, or better intelligence, gets notice of good news before it be generally known, imme- diately thinks of buying stock at the present price, knowing, th.at when the good news becomes pub- lic, the price will rise, and that he may then sell it for more than it cost him. They, in like manner, ■who foresee bad news, sell ofl' their stock as fast as they can, knowing that, when the bad news is pub- lished, the price will be lowered. Thus the dealers in stock sometimes gain a great deal, and sometimes lose ; so that it is no wonder that so many per- sons employ themselves in this way. We see how ^^agerly some people, especially those who love money, or have little to do, engage in play ; the hope of success, and the varieties of fortune and contrivance, give an agitation to their minds, which when it becomes habitual, delights them more than any other. Similar are the circumstances and the feelings of thos§ who deal in stock ; which is in- deed a sort of gaming. And much it is to be re- gretted, that this, like every other sort, is not car- ried on with strict integrity. They who are con- cerned in it contrive pieces of good or bad news, ip order to sink the pricp of stock when they in-
CHAP. II. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 231
tend to buy, and to raise it when they purpose to sell: which is one cause of the many articles of false intelligence that we read in the newspapers.
842. The rising and falling of stock is by no means an evidence of the real strength or weakness of the nation j it depends on the hopes and fears of those who deal in stock ; and there may be much fear where there is little danger, and a gene- ral panic where there is no danger at all. And when a public disaster happens, it may raise great apprehensions in the minds of men, and yet, as compared with the collective power of the nation, be inconsiderable. — That a certain proportion of national debt, by creating a species of property which is easily transferred, may be useful in a trad- ing country, and tend to strengthen government, by interesting so many people in its preservation, is generally allowed. But it cannot be denied, that our national debt is far greater than can be con- sistent with any views of public convenience ; and therefore it is much to be wished, that it could be lessened. For, in order to raise money for paying the interest of it, many heavy taxes must be laid on the people. It deserves our notice, however, that, notwithstanding the present amount of this debt, the trade and manulactures of Great Britain, and its credit with foreign nations, were never be- fore so high as at present.
843. The money raised by the several taxes, that it may be managed the more easily, is thrown into
232 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
two or three great funds, one of which is mort- gaged by law for paying the king's own revenue j which is commonly called iJie civil list Formerly this depended in part on casualties, but generally amounted, at least durhig the last two reigns, to about one million. His present majesty, soon after his accession, dispensed with all those casualties in favour of the public, and only asked that the funds should pay annually to the crown eight hundred thousand pounds ; which was thought a very gene- rous proposal, being a saving to the nation of about two hundred thousand pounds a-year. An addition Avas lately made to the civil list,by act of parliament; and now it amounts to nine hundred thousand pounds. Out of this sum are paid, the salaries of all the officers of state and judges; the appointments to ambassadors ; the revenue of the queen and royal children ; the expence of the king's household ; and his private expences ; besides a great deal of money that must be laid out, in procuring intelli- gence from all parts of the earth ; and in other operations that belong to the executive power.
844. When the parliament have agreed to raise a sum by any particular tax, they consider how much the tax will probably produce ; and borrow money to that extent, to be repaid with interest when the tax is collected. Now of many taxes, it is impossible, before collecting, to calculate the ex- act amount. That this may not be attended v.itli inconvenience, they always compute the probable.
€HAP. II. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 233'
amount of the tax loiver than there is reason to think that the real amount will be. And thus, upon several of the taxes, there are every year con- siderable savings, which form a fund called the sinking fund, because intended for the purpose of sinking, or paying off gradually, the national debt. In the time of peace, this fund has sometimes yield- ed two millions ay ear.
845. It was mentioned, that the perpetual taxes amount to thirteen millions annually and upwards ; if to this we add almost three millions raised by the annual taxes on land and malt, it will be found, that the money paid in taxes by the people of Great Britain exceeds sixteen millions sterling a-year : a striking proof of the extent of our commerce, and the industry of our people. Our gains as a nation must be very great, when so much can be spared annually for the support of government, while, not- withstanding, many are growing rich, and the greater part enjoy a competency.
846. If the abolition of taxes were possible, which it plainly is not, would it be desirable? cer- tainly, would be the answer of many : for what encouragement would that give to the industrious, what a resource to the indigent, what an addition to the national wealth and strenojth ! But it is not clear that taxes, while supportable, tend to the di- minution of either national power or private hap- piness. Labor omnia vincit Improhus, et duris ur- gens in rebus egestas, says a poet, who understood
234 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
luiman nature well, and \v?3 not unskilled in poli- tics. The necessity of industry promotes industry ; the conveniences attainable by the idle encourage idleness. In Liege there is ampler provision for the poor than in any other part of Europe ; an opulent prince of hat territory having formerly, it seems, in order to compound with heaven for a profligate life, bequeathed his revenues to the poor of ail nations. The consequence, as a gentleman who long resided there told me, is, that no other part of Europe is so infested v/ith beggars ; who not only solicit, but often in vast multitudes ex- tort, pecuniary donation, both from individuals and from the magistracy.
847. Industry, where it is encouraged, as among us it seldom fliils to be, yields not only competence, but happiness also, by giving continual impulse to the active mind of man ; while in situations favour- able to indolence, there is seldom such employment as can either exercise or amuse the human fiicul- ties. The truth seems to be, that labour such as man can bear is good for man ; and that taxes, such as human industry can pay without being dispirited, rather rouse human exertion than repress it. ' The ' thing to be wished and aimed at in a land of li-
* berty,* says the wise and learned Blackstone, ' is
* not the total abolition of taxes, but wisdom and ' moderation not only in granting, but also in the
* method of raising the necessary supplies; by con- ' trivino; to do both in such a manner as may bq
CHAP. II. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. ' 23J
* most conducive to the national welfare, and at the ' same time most consistent with economy and the ' liberty of the subject ; who, when properly taxed, ' contributes only some part of his property in ' order to enjoy the rest.
848. There is no right of which the people of these kingdoms are more jealous than the liberty of the press. In many other nations one cannot publish a book, or paper of any kind, without leave from some person in power, wiio is supposed to have read it and found in it nothing that he thinks exceptionable ; and even in Great Britain this was the case till the year one thousand six hundred and ninety four. But since that time, within the Bri- tish dominions, any man may publish any thing he pleases, without asking any person's leave. In- deed, if he publish treason, blasphemy, defamation, or any thing which the law declares it a crime to publish, he is liable to the legal punishment. But still he may publish any thing, if he is willing to take the consequences.
849. This is a good security against oppression, and answers many other excellent purposes. If a man be injuriously treated, in a case in which the law can give him no redress (which M'ill some- times happen), he may punish the injurious person, by laying the matter before the public. And this teaches men to be attentive both to their own con- duct and to the rights of their neighbour. And hence, every British subject, who can express his
236 ELEMENTS OF PART llf,
thoughts in writing, may be considered as having sonieinfkience on public affairs, and on the poHcy of his country. Pubhc measures he may blame, if he do it with decency ; which every man will do, who does it with a good design. Plans of im- provement he may propose, and advice he may suggest to the greatest persons in the kingdom. And, if his reasons be good, they cannot fail, in a free country like this, to draw attention.
850. It is true, that this liberty of the press, like health, strength, genius, and manyothergood things, is liable to be, and at present is, grossly abused. But the abuse is not without remedy; the licentiousness of the press does in some degree counteract and cure itself. If wicked books are published, which often happens, they may be answered, and criticised, to the shame of their authors. And worthy cha- racters, and good measures of government, will always meet with general approbation, in spite of printed falsehoods ; which are now become so conmion in newspapers, and some anonymous publications, that no body, who knows how these things are made, pays any great regard to them. Anonymous abuse, indeed, merits no regard, and among the intelligent part of mankind obtains none. The great prevalence of it is disgracefid to the age, but does little harm to individuals ; no person of respectable character ever lost a friend by it. This, however, will no more excuse the malignity of those who contrive and publish it.
CHAP. ir. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 237
than missinor his aim will vindicate the assassin, Yvho in the dark makes a push with his knife at the inoffensive passenger. I shall conclude this sub- ject with a few very brief remarks on the judiciary power of the British government. See § 774, S08.
851. The most formidable part of the judiciary power is that which relates to criminal prosecution; for on this the characters and even the lives of men may depend. This is not exactly on the same footing in England and in Scotland. But in both countries one important regulation takes place, namely, that in all ordinary cases no person can be imprisoned without a legal warrant founded on au- thentic information. In riots, indeed, and assaults, and in some other circumstances in which the cri- minal could not be imprisoned at all, if people were obliged to go through the formalities of a legal war- rant, proceedings of this kind may be more sum- mary. But in general, the liberty of a British subject is considered by the law as a very delicate matter; and persons guilty of imprisoning without sufficient cause are liable to severe penalties.
852. In England the person imprisoned has a right to make himself be brought before one of the twelve judges ; and if that judge, after considering the case, find that the offence is bailable, the person is admitted to bail ; and the law declares, that exces- sive bail shall not be required. This privilege of the prisoner is called his habeas corpus ; from two remarkable words in the written deed tliat is exe-
238 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
cLited on these occasions. Sometimes, wlien there is great public danger, as in the case of rebelUon within the kingdom, the habeas corpus act may be suspended by act of parliament, and the king em- powered to imprison su'^pected persons for a time, without bringing them to any trial : which, as far as it goes, is a sort of dictatorial power ; necessary to the public safety, but such as cannot endanger liberty, as it never happens but in extraordinary cases, and by the authority of the whole legisla- ture. In consequence of this regulation, the sub- jects, as Montesquieu and Blaekstone observe, only lose their liberty for a little time that they may retain it for ever. The habeas corpus acf^ being made in the reign of Charles II. before the two kingdoms were united, does not extend to Scotland. But in Scotland, there is an institution, which partly answers the same purpose, though not so efiectually, or so speedily : the person im- prisoned for a crime may force his prosecutor to bring him to a trial within a certain number of davs, sixty, if I mistake not; and if the crime be such as to admit bail, the sheriff must grant it on reason- able terms.
853, Even to be tried for a crime, though one is both innocent and acquitted, is attended with shame, expence, and inconvenience. And there- fore, in every county in England, they have what is called the grand jur}', consisting of twelve per- sons at least, and not exceeding twenty-three, oe-
CHAP. If. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 239
casionally named and brought together by the she- riff One part of their business is, to judge, after examining witnesses, whether it be reasonable that the person charged with a crime should be brought to a trial for it. If their verdict is negative, they are said not to find a bill against him, and he is dismissed; liable, however, in some cases, to be again called to account before a subsequent grand jury. If it is affirmative, they are said to find a bill against him ; and he must be tried in presence of twelve persons, who are his peers or equals, and to whose judg- ment and impartiality he cannot offer any valid ob- jection ; for, if he can do this, the persons objected to are set aside, and other jurymen appointed : and in all cases he may object to a certain number, without assigning any reason.
854. These twelve persons, in contradistinction to the others, are called the petty or little jury ; and their business is the same with that of the jury of fifteen in Scotland. They attend the examination of the witnesses, and in open court hear counsel both for and against the prisoner ; and according to their verdict, finding the prisoner guilty or not guilty, the judge or judges, who preside at the trial, must condemn or acquit : so that the jury are the real, and indeed the sole, judges of the guilt or innocence of the piisoner. And this jury can never by its longstanding acquire undue influence, because it is no permanent body ; being chosen from time to tinic, according to certain legal forms.
240 ELEMENTS OF PART III.
from among the most respetable of the people. And thus, the most teriible part of the judiciary power, that I mean which dispenses punisliment, becomes almost invisible ; and no man can have reason to fear the criminal law of his country so long as he does his duty. — Or, supposing the jury to condemn rashly, which no doubt may have hap- pened, the condemned person has time allowed him to get the matter laid before the king ; who may change the punishment from a more to a less severe, as from death to banishment ; who may reprieve, that is, suspend the sentence of the law, for a longer or shorter space ; or w-ho may grant a full and free pardon. It is not easy, nor I believe possible, to imagine a constitution of things, which, without danger to the public, could more effectually disarm of its terrors the most formidable part of the judi- ciary power.
855. In England, the petty jury must in their verdict be unanimous ; and if any one of them should die before they agree upon it, the prisoner will be acquitted. In Scotland, the verdict given by the jury of fifteen is determined by the majori- ty of votes. In England, juries are allowed in ci- vil, as well as criminal prosecutions ; which is a .very great advantage in the policy of that country. In Scotland, they are not allowed in civil causes, except in the court of exchequer, which is mo- delled according to the English forms, and decides in matters relating to the public revenue. In
CHAP. II. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 241
Scotland, we have no grand jury, wliich is another, and a very great defect in our constitution : whe- ther our criminals shall be tried or not depends in a great measure, at least for the most part, on the loi'd advocate, that is, on the person who in the king*s name prosecutes criminals. It is certainly conso- nant to the principles of both liberty and justice to lodge this important privilege in a jury, rather than in a single person. If the petty jury in Eng- land, and the jury of fifteen in Scotland, find the prisoner guilty, or not guilty, the verdict is called general, and it is final. But sometimes they re- turn what is called a special verdict, that is, they find such and such things proved, but do not take upon them to decide concerning the precise amount of the crime implied in those things. When this is the case, the matter is left, in England, to the determination of the twelve judges j in Scotland, to that of the court of justiciary.
856. In Great Britain, there is no such thing as torment now used, to extort the truth, or for any other purpose ; the accused are presumed to be innocent, till the evidence of their guilt appear to the court; and they are allowed persons learned in the law to plead their cause for them. These indulgences are granted for very good reasons ; and from this humane and wise principle especial- ly, that it is better that many guilty escape punish- ment, than that one innocent person suffer. In Britain too, capital punishmeiit is in most cases, I
VOL. II, Q
242 ELEMENTS OF, &C. PART III.
niay say In all, attended with as little pain as pos- sible to the unhappy sufferer. It is true, that, in executions for high treason, the bodies of crimi- nals suffer some indignities, which it would be not improper to abolish : but executions for high trea- son are very rare ; and those indignities do not take place till the body is insensible. Cruelty and torture are the engines of arbitrary power. Their aim is, to frighten the subject ; and they always proceed from fear in the sovereign, and shock hu- manity, and render government unpopular, with- out answering any one good purpose.
PART FOURTH.
OF LOGIC,
fe57. Logic is the second division of the prac* tical part of the philosophy of mind (§ 8. § 470) ; and teaches the method of improving our in- tellectual faculties, in remembering and communicat- ing truth ; and judging of it according to evidence. It therefore consists of three parts ; one of which, the art of memory, has been considered already. The two other parts are, rhetoric, or the art of conveying our thoughts to others by word and writing, and judgment (the word is ambiguous in this connection, but will not lead into mistake when I say that I mean by it) the art o£ judging between truth and falsehood, by attending to evi* dence. I begin with rhetoric^
244 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
CHAPTER I.
OF RHETORIC.
SECTION I. Of Tropes and Figures,
SJ8. We formerly went through the theorij of language^ from the formation of articulate sound, to the investigation and arrangement of the essen- tials of human speech (§ 22. § 53). This was the first part of rhetoric. I now proceed to the second ; and propose to consider words as they may be employed for orname7it as well as for necessary use, and to explain those things that constitute ele- gance of language. This is an entertaining part of science ; and is in two respects useful : first, by enabling us to form a good style of our own ; and secondly, by preparing us for reading the works of elegant writers with proper taste, and distinguish- ing what is good or beautiful in their style from what may be inelegant or faulty. Now language may be improved in two respects, either in tiie choice of single words and expressions, or in the general structure and compos tion oj the style. First, therefore, I shall consider the nature of tropes and figures j that is, of the words, phrases, and
€HAP. I. § I, MORAL SCIENCE. 245
forms of expression, whereby language may be or- namented ; and secondly, I shall treat of the com- position of style, both in prose and in verse.
859. Of Tropes and Figures. A trope is the name of one thing applied emphatically to ex- press another thing : a figure is a phrase, expres- sion, sentence, or continuation of sentences, used in a sense different from the original and proper sense, and yet so used as not to occasion obscurity. Tropes affect single words chiefly ; figures affect phrases and sentences. Tropes are divided into primary and secondary. The primary tropes are commonly reckoned four, metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche^ and irony. These and many other terms in rhetoric, as well as the term rhetoric itself, are Greek ; the Grecians having been the first who treated of rhetoric as a science.
860. When the name of one thing is applied to another on account of a supposed or real resemblance between the two things, it is a metaphor ; and called by Latin authors sometimes metaphora, which is the Greek name of the trope, and sometimes trans- lation which is the correspondent term in Latin. It is a sort of similitude expressed in one word. It may be founded on a cornpaiisoji, first, of the qualities of a man with those of a beast ; as when we call a crafty and cruel man a fox : secondly, of one ina- nimate thing with another ; as when we say, clouds of dust, Jloods of fire ; thirdly, of a man with an in- animate thing 5 as when Homer calls Ajax a hul-
24^ ELEMENTS OF PART IV. .
^ark of the Greeks ; fourthly, of inanimate things with what has life and feeling ; as when Virgil calls a plentiful crop 2i joyful one, Icetas segetes : fifthly, of the qualities of mind with those of matter; as when we say, a solid judgment, 2Ljiery temper, a hard heart, &c. To this head may refer a num- ber of metaphors common in Holy writ, which con- vey, in such a way as our finite natures can com- prehend, some faint idea of the operations of the Supreme Being ; as when God is said to hear, to see, to repenty to be angry ^ to stand afar off, to hide his facCt to open his hand, &c. ; phrases which nobody understands in the literaf sense. The use of me- taphors is frequent in discourse ; more frequent among persons of a scanty elocution, than among those who have appropriated words for all their thoughts J and more frequent with those who speak of things beyond human comprehension, as of spi- rits and the economy of unseen worlds, than with such as talk of the common affairs of life.
S61. The trope which changes the names of things by putting the adjunct or quality for the whole subject, the effect for the cause, the cause for the effect, the matter for the form, or the form for the matter, is called metonymy. First, the adjunct for the subject ; as, clothed in piaple, meaning purple garments. Secondly, the effect for the cause ; as, he lives by the sweat of his brow, that is, by his la- bouj', of which sweat is the effect. Thirdly, the pause for the effect ; or the instrument employed
CHAP. r. { I. MORAL SCIENCE. 24?
in making, for the thing made ; as, I read Cicero, that is, the writings or works of Cicero ; I know his hand, . meaning his hand-writing. Fourthly, the matter for the form, or rather for the form and matter united j as I have no silver, meaning silver coin ; ' Sonorous 77ietal blowing martial sounds ;*
* Musam meditaris arena ;' Stridenti stipula mi-
* sererum disperdere carmen/ Fifthly, the form for the matter, or the thing signified for the sign ; as when we say, pointing to a picture, that is So- crates,
862. Synecdoche is a trope which we use, when we put the name of tJie whole for that of a part, or that of a part for the whole. Now there are se- veral sorts of wholes, and consequently of pat^ts ; and hence a variety of synecdoches. A whole ge- nus is made up of its several species ; a whole es- sence of its matter and its Jbrm ; a whole system of its several |;«r/5 or members : whence three sy- necdoches when we use the name of the wiiole for a part ; and other three, when we use the name of a part for the whole : so this trope may be used in six different forms. The first is when the name of the genus is put for that of one of the species com- prehended under it : as when we call a dull man a stupid animal ; as when in Latin the general term virtus is used to signify the particular virtues of valour and public spirit. The second is, when the name of a species is put for the genus ; as when we speak of a garrison being put to the sword, that
248 ELEMENTS OF PART IV,
is killed by warlike weapons in general ; or when a man is said to ^et his bread by his industry, that is, to get the necessaries of life, whereof bread is only one species. The third form of the synec- doche is, when the name of the whole essence is put for one of its constituent parts, as in epitaphs, Here lies such a man^ that is, the body of such a man. The fourth form is, when the name, of one of the constituent parts, or of the matter, or of the form, is put for the whole essence ; as, I cannot change your shilling, for I have no copper, that is copper coin. Thus in many languages 5oz//isput for person : this town contains fifteen thousand souJs, We say too, a good soul, a dear soul, a mer- ry soul ; and Horace has candidce animoe. In the same tropical sense the Romans used lepidum ca- put ; and we speak of thirty head of cattle. This last mode of speaking, in which the noun does not take the plural termination even when plurality is signified, we use of beasts only, or of men in con- tempt ; as when Pope says, * A hundred head of * Aristotle's friends ;' where a double contempt is intended : first, that the commentators on Aristotle were as dull as oxen or cattle ; and secondly, that, as individuals, they were so insignificant, and had so little character, that they deserved to be reckoned by the dozen only, or the hundred. The fifth form of the synecdoche is, when the name of a part of any material system is put for the whole : "yye may say a sail, instead of a ship at sea > and the
CHAP. I. § I. MORAL SCIENCE." 249
Romans used carina or puppis for navls. The sixth form of the synecdoche is, when the name of a whole system is put for that of a part of it ; as when in ancient authors (as in Luke ii. 1.) the Ro- man empire is called the "woiid.
863. When our words convey a sense contrary to what we express, but agreeable to what we mean and are understood to mean, the trope (or rather the figure) is called irony : as if with a pe- culiar look and accent we were to say, he is a wise man indeed, meaning, that he is the reverse. Ir.^* y is sometimes entertaining, by giving variety and vi- vacity to discourse, but becomes offensive when too frequent. It may be employed with success in expos- ing tolly and absurdity ; and has accordingly been used by teachers of respectable, and even of sacred characters. There are several instances of it in Holy writ. See 1 Kings xviji, 27. ; Eccles. xi. 9. ; Mark vii. 9. Socrates used it so happily, for the instruc- tion of his friends, and the confutation of the so- phists, that he got the name of 6 upmv, or the iro- nical philosopher. And from this in part results that pleasantry so remarkable in the Socratic philo- sophers, particularly Xenophon, who endeavoured, in this as in other respects, to imitate the manner of his master. — Care should be taken, in the use of this trope, that there be such a choice of words, and such an accent in pronunciation, as that our meaning may not be misunderstood. And with re- spect to all other tropes and figures, care should
250 ELEMENTS OP PART HI,
be taken, that our meaning be cleared and en- forced, but never obscured or weakened, by the use of them. These are the primary tropes.
. 864. Those called secondary may for the most part be resolved into one or more of these. — As, first, G?ito?iomasia, a sort of synecdoche ; which we use, when we put a general term for a proper name, or a proper name for a general term : as when Aris- totle calls Homer, as he often does, the poet; as when we call a great warrior an Alexander, a great orator a Demosthenes, a great patron of learned men a Maecenas. This trope may also be used, when we intend to convey a lively image to the mind ; as in that line of Milton, ' O'er many a ' frozen, many a fiery Alp* The frequent use of it, however, makes language obscure and affected, and shews a needless ostentation of learning. It is an essential rule in the application of this trope, that the character of the person or thing alluded to, be known to those to whom our discourse is ad- dressed, and be well ascertained, and generally ac- knowledged. If it is not known to our audience, we shall not be understood ; if it is doubtful, we may be misunderstood.
865. Communication, another secondary trope, takes place, when a speaker or writer assumes his hearer or reader as a partner in his sentiments and discourse, saying xice instead of lori/e. This trope may be a sign of the writer's or speaker's modesty, $^nd of the respect he bears to his readers or hear-
€HAP. I. § I, MORAL SCIENCE. 251
ers. If a clergyman is reproving the faults of his congregation, it may be a proof of his complais- ance and humility to speak, of himself as liable to the same infirmities, and say, "doe ought to be more obedient, more grateful, &c. instead of ye ought. By the former expression he shews that he thinks himself sinful as well as them ; by the latter he would seem to exclude himself out of the class of sinners: the former, therefore, is more agree- able, because more true, as well as more polite, than the latter. But if he is reproving a crime of which he is not, and cannot be supposed to be, guilty, as atheism, infidelity, swearing, and the like, his politeness should not be carried so far, as to make him speak of himself as an associate in their wickedness. As this trope puts maiiij for one, it may be considered as a sort of synecdoche.
866. Another of these secondary tropes is //- iotes, or extenuation, (from Urog, tenuis), which is used, when we do not express so much as we mean, and which therefore may also be resolved into the synecdoche ; as if one were to say, ' I cannot com- ' mend you for that,' meaning, I greatly blame you ; ' I am afraid the news I have to communicate ' will not be very agreeable,* meaning, — will be very disagreeable. This trope may be of use in softening harsh expressions. Akin to it is eupfW' onism, which may be applied to the same purpose, When it is said of the martyr St Stephen, that ' he fell asleep,' instead of — he died, the euphemisni .
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partakes of the nature of metaphor, intimating a resemblance between sleep and the death of such a person. The king's death being a very painful consideration to a loyal subject, we sometimes ex- press it by these words, * the demise of the crown, which is a mixture of euphemism and metonymy. A Roman expressing a strong dislike to a person or thing would say valeat, fare it well ; which is a kind of ironical euphemism.
867. CatackresiSj Abiisio, improper use, is any trope, especially any metaphor, so strong as to bor- der on impropriety, by seeming to confound the nature of things. This trope is used, when we call the young of beasts * their sons and daughters,' or the instinctive economy of bees their ' govern- naent ;' when the shepherd in Virgil calls his goat %'ir gregis, the * husband* of his flock; when Moses calls wine the * blood of the grape ;* for nothing but an animal can have blood ; and sons, daugh- ters, husbands, government, belong to rational be- ings only. We sometimes use this trope from ne- cessity, because we have no other way so conve- nient to express our meaning ; as when we say a 5/7- ver C2ir\d\estick, a glass'mkhorn. It is often used, es- pecially in poetry, to give strength to an expres- sion, or to make an image lively. Horace speak- ing of the amusements of children, says, Eqiiitare in arundine longa ; which literally means to to ride on horseback on a long stick. The expression is stronger than our verb to ride, and implies that i\\e
€HAP. li § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 253
child rides in imitation of horsemen, and with a degree of satisfaction equal to theirs. An English poet has a similar figure, in describing the three witches in Macbeth, * Horsed on three staves they posted,* &c. A catachresis is sometimes allowed in one language, which could not be allowed in another. ' I turned to see the voice that spake with me,* says St John in the Apocalypse, (i. 12.) where, however, the trope may be considered as a metonymy ; voice being put for the 'person speaks ing, that is, the adjunct for the subject. I feel a smelly is a catachresis common in Scotland ; but the English never use it, and think it as absurd as, I see a sound, or I hear a colour.
Hyperbole represents a thing as greater or less than it really is ; greater, as when we call a tall person a giant, or steeple ; less, as when we say of a lean man, that he is a mere shadow, or that he is nothing but skin and bone. The former is called muesis or exaggeration, the letter melosis or dimi- nution. This trope sometimes gives vivacity to expression, and sometimes entertains by presenting a ludicrous image. There are people who affect it greatly in common discourse j which, however, like every other sort of affectation, is offensive to persons of taste j and the fi-equent use of it offends on another account ; because it seems to imply a disregard to truth. Care is to be taken, in the use of it, not to lead others into any mistake coji- cerning the real nature of things. It seems in ge-
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reral to partake of the metaphor and synecdoche. So miicli for tropes.
S96. A Figure of speech, in Greek called cyjiijjoi, is a mode of expression different from, and more emphatical than the ordinary way of expressing the same sense. Many figures are enumerated by rhetoricians : my plan obliges me to confine my- self to a few of the more important figures. When a metaphor is continued till it become a description, and that description is carried on, agreeably to the literal, as w^ell as figurative, sense of the words, the figure is called Allegory, We have an ex- ample in the two first verses of the twenty-third psalm, and in the eightieth psalm from the eighth verse to the sixteenth. In conducting an allegory, care must be taken to introduce nothing unsuitable to the nature, either of the thing spoken of, or of the thing alluded to. Some allegories are short and others long. The Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan, is an allegory continued through a whole volume ; in which the commencement, procedure, and conclusion, of the Christain life, are ingeni- ously illustrated by the similitude of a journey. The following is a very short one, from the con- clusion of the second book of the Georgic : ' Sed
* nos immensum spatiis confecimus aequor. Et
* jam tempus equum fumantia solvere colla.* A great deal of Homer's and Virgil's machinery^ that is of the use they make of gods and goddesses and other fictitious beings, is allegorical. Thus it is
CHAP. I. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 255
Apollo that raises the plague in the first book of the Iliad, agreeable to the old opinion, that the sun, by drawing up noxious vapours from the earth, is the cause of pestilence. Thus it is Juno who instigates ^olus, in the first book of the M" neid, to raise a storm for destroying the Trojan fleet; which intimates, that a certain disposition of the air, over which Juno was supposed to pre- side, is the cause of wind. Thus when Pallas, in •the beginning of the Iliad, appears to Achilles, and forbids him to draw his sword against Agamemnon, it is an allegory ; and the meaning is, that Achilles was restrained on this occasion by his own good sense ; Pallas being the goddess of wisdom. And when Virgil tells us, that Juno and Venus conspir- ed to decoy Dido into an amour with -^Eneas, it signifies that Dido was drawn into this amour, partly by her love, and partly by her ambition. Venus being the representative of the one pas- sion, and Juno of the other.
870. Hyperbole was mentioned as a trope ; when extended into a description, it becomes a fi- gure. With proper management it may give rise to sublimity, but in the hands of an unskilful writ- er seldom fails to become ridiculous. It may be, as Quintilian says, ultra jidcm^ more than we can believe, but must not be ultra modum^ beyond all bounds of moderation. It is particularly useful, when a poet has occasion to imitate the language ©f violent passion ; for all violent passions express
256 ELEMENTS OF PART 1V»
themselves hyperbolically. An angry man speaks in exaggerating terms of" the injury he has receiv- ed, and the vengeance he is going to inflict : and a scornful man, speaking of that which he de- spises, adopts the diminishing hyperbole; which is also used by a brave man recounting the dangers he has undergone, and by every man of sense when obliged to speak of his own merit. Slight absurdities in sentiment or behaviour, and slight incongruities in any visible appearance, when de- scribed in concise and clear language, and with some degree of exaggeration, give rise to what is called humour ; which, in him who possesses it naturally, is an agreeable talent, and makes writ- ing and conversation very entertaining. Humour and wit, though they both may occasion laughter, are different things. Wit, as formerly observed, consists (§ 207.) in the sudden discovery of re- semblance between things supposed to be very unlike. As examples of humorous description of the most exquisite kind, see Addison's account of the character and conversations of Sir Roger de Coverly, in the Spectator. Delicate humour, pro- ceeding from moderate exaggeration, and convey- ing no oftensive ideas, was a distinguishing talent of that excellent author. Smollett, Sterne, and ma- ny other humorous writers, raise laughter by ex- cessive exaggeration; which is a work of no diffi- culty, and differs as widely from the humour of Addison, as bombast differs from sublimity. Swift
CHAP. I. § r. MORAL SCIENCE. 257
might have equalled Addison in this respect, or even surpassed him, if it had not been for the vi- rulence of his temper, and the indelicacy of his imagination.
871. Prosopopeia, or personification, is a figure which we use when we speak of things as if they were persons, and capable of action and sensation : which it is often natural for us to do ; and which, when done with judgment, may give force and elegance to language, and convey many ideas in few words. In poetr}', accordingly, and even in conversation, this figure is used. ' The sea rages, the storm threatens, the ground is thirsty,* are familiar examples : more elevated ones are such as these ; ' Tiie floods clap their hands, the valleys smile,
* the sun rejoices to run his race, the hills and
* trees break forth into singing,' &c. We per- sonify also abstract ideas and human passions; as when we speak of ' frowning disdain, pale fear, ' blushing shame, meek-eyed contentment, he. ; ' and we call fortune blind,* and consider love and hope as having wings, and time under the ap- pearance of an old man with an hour-glass and scythe, and death under that of a walking skeleton with a dart in its hand. And thus we form a great variety of allegorical persons^ where in strict philosophical language tilings only would be spoken of.
87'2. Apostrophe is a sudden change in our dis- course ; when, without giving previous notice,
VOL. II. R
258 ELEMENTS OF PART lY,
we address ourselves to a person or thing different from that to ^vhich we were addressing ourselves before. This figure is not much used, except in poetry, and other compositions intended to move the passions ; but, when judiciously used, has a very pleasing effect. See ^neid, iii. 710, where u^neas, mentioning the death of his father, sudden- ly breaks out into an affectionate address to him, as if he were alive and present. See the same poet's apostrophe to Nisus and Euryalus ; ix. 446. See Eve's address to Paradise, in the eleventh book of Paradise Lost, ver. 268. And see an ex- ample still finer in the fourth book of the same poem, ver. 724 j the hint of which is taken from Virgil, ^neid, viii. 293. You may also consult the following passages, in which this figure has a very happy effect : Georg. iv. 465 ; -^neid, ii. 241, 431, 664. To make the apostrophe natural, the speaker must be supposed to regard the object, whom he thus suddenlv addresses, with some strong emotion, as admiration, sorrow, love, indignation, &c. It is true, that poets use it even where no passion is expressed ; (see Virg. Eel. ii. 54) ; but they then use it for the sake of their verse, or mere- ly to give variety to tlie composition.
873. Similitude, comparison, or simily, is rank- ed among the figures of speech, but I think impro- perly. For it occasions no change in the dis- course, nor does it put one expression for ano- ther. It only says that one thing is like another.
CHAP. I, § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 259
When I say, he is bold as a lion, he is pale as death, he is hot as fire, I use words in their proper sense without any figure, except, perhaps, the hyperbole. Similies, however, and compari- sons, when judiciously applied, are very useful in discourse, or in writing, and are particularly or* namental in poetry. AVe have from our earliest years a propensity to compare things together, to trace our resemblances, and to describe one thing by saying that it is like another. Hence the origin of similitudes. They may be expressed in two or three words, and sometimes they extend into a de- scription. They are useful in three respects : — they lead us to compare things together, which is an agreeable exercise to the mind : — they illus- trate, explain, and beautify the subject ; and they are a source of amusement, by suggesting a variety of grand and beautiful images, that otherwise could not have been introduced. Homer's similies tend greatly to the embellishment of his poems; the composition of them is generally more elaborate and correct than that of his other verses ; and most of them have been borrov/ed by Virgil and other epic poets. You may consult the following passages, to which I refer, not as the best of Homer's and Virgil's similies, but as very fine ones. Iliad, ii. 144, 460; iv. 422, 452 ; vi. 504; viii. 551 ; xi. 41, 278; xiii. 137, &c. Georg. ii. 279; iv. 511; ^neid, i. 148, 430; ii. 304, 626; vii. 378 ; xi. 492 ; xii. 331, 684, 908, &c. Per- sons agitated by strong passions are very apt to
260 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
speak figuratively, and to use the hyperbole, meta- phor, and apostrophe ; but never make long simi- lies, because the hurry of their thoughts gives them notime forit ; it is therefore unnatural when dramatic poets put long similies in the mouths of such persons; which, however, is often done in modern tragedies; three or four examples might be quoted from Cato. To judge of the propriety of similitudes, we must at- tend to that point of likeness on which the com- parison turns ; for two things may resemble each other in one respect, which are in all others very unlike. A man, for example, is not like a rock ; but to compare, as Homer has done, the irresistible force of Hector rushing to battle, to a vast rock rolling from the top of a mountain, may be very proper, and even sublime. IHad, xiii. 137.
. 874. Of the use a^d abuse of Tropes and Figures. They are in many respects useful. Frequently they are necessary ; for to them we must have recourse, when we either do not know, or do not choose to mention, the real names of things. And that language may not be endless, and the labour of acquiring it insurmountable, we often, in speaking of one class of things, make use of words that properly belong to a different class ; which in many cases may be done without incon- venience. So to the mind and its qualities we ap- ply, tropically^ epithets, that properly belong to matter and its qualities ; as when we speak of a grave disposition, solid judgment, profound dis- cernment,j^<?r^ temper, &c.
eHAP. I. 5 !• MORAL SCIENCE. 261
875. They are favourable to delicacy, and to harmony, of language. We are sometimes obli- ged to speak of things;, which one would not care to mention by the proper names ; in which case, a trope or figure well chosen may convey our mean- ing without giving offence. Aiid in poetry, it is often necessary to introduce what would seem to fall below the dignity of the composition, if it were not expressed figuratively : and in order to make out their verse, or avoid a harsh expression, poets are often obliged to use figurative instead of proper laugua-^e. Tropes and figures promote also brevity of expression ; which is generally ele- gant, when it occasions no obscurity, or harshness. ' I read Cicero,* is more concise, and not less sig- nificant, than, ' I read the writings of Cicero.* When we say of a man, that he is a saint, or a devil ; when Virgil calls Scipio a thunderbolt of war ; when Homer calls Ajax a bulwark of the Greeks ; a great deal of meaning is conveyed in one word.
876. All passions that violently agitate the soul make us speak figuratively ; and therefore, when a poet imitates the language of such passions, he must have recourse to figures, if he would make his imitation Hke nature. Those emotions, on the contrary, which depress the mind and check the fancy, as grief, repentance, humility, &c. do for the most part express themselves in plain and sim- ple words without any figure. Hence anoth^ use
262 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
of figurative language, tliat the application of it may be employed in imitating violent passion ; and the v/ant of it, in imitating emotions, or states of mind, which are not violent. — There are some professions in life, which, by keeping men at a dis- tance from the rest of the world, confine their at- tention to one set of objects, and frame their lan- guage accordingly. Such men, even when talk- ing of things remote from their trade, are obliged to use figuratively the words of it ; which may now and then be entertaining, and which the writ- ers of comedy sometimes imitate : as when they introduce a mariner at land using the language of the sea, that is, applying figuratively the words of his own business to things quite diiferent.
877. Lastly : Tropes and figures, by alluding to objects of external sense, often make that clear which would otherwise be less clear, and some- times give great energy to particular expressions. The following common phrases, and such like, are for this reason very significant ; hardened in wick- edness, biflamed w'ith anger, thiinderstnick with astonishment, wallowmg in sensuality, a cheek hiirning with blushes, &c. But observe, that these figures, though they are strong, and may be elegant, are not always to be used ; for too many of them give reason to suspect, that the writer or speaker is labouring and straining to give force to his language, more than is necessary. Every thing in composition should appear to be easy,
CHAP. I, § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 263
like the exertions of a strong man : violent efforts are in themselves aukward, like a weak man trying to do what is above his strength, and should there- fore be avoided, at least on ordinary occasions, lest they breed a suspicion of weakness.
87H. With respect to the application and use of tropes and figures, the following rules may de- serve notice. They should always be intelligible to those to whom they are addressed ; for if they are not intelligible, they are good for nothing. Now a trope or a figure may sometimes be very significant in one language, which is not so in an- other. The Romans, as a metonymy for peace, sometimes used the word toga : that being the name of an upper garment, which the richer sort wore when they were not in arms. But with us the word gown, used metonymicaliy of men, would put one in mind of a clergyman, or a judge, or some other man who wears a garment of that name. A shepherd is a mean person with us j but in the eastern countries of old, where the wealth of nations depended on their flocks and herds ; where, to take proper care of those flocks, attention, prudence, and even valour were some- times necessary ; and where the sons of kings, and other great men, took care of them, it was an of- fice of great dignity. We need not then wonder that in Homer, kings are called shepherds of the people. In Scripture, the Deity himself is some- times spoken of undei the same denomination 5 as
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in <he twenty- third psalm. When we use this me- taphor in a dignified sense, as when clergymen are called pastors, and their people a flock, we al- lude rather to the customs of antiquity, than to our own.
879. Tropes and figures should all be adapted to the strain of the composition ; serious, if that be serious ; cheerful, mournful, ludicrous, or elevated, according to the subject. Every serious writer is sup- posed to write as he thinks, and to be interested in it ; and therefore the ornaments of his language should refer to such things as might be supposed to occur to him, while his mind was intent upon his work. Consequently, figures are blameable, when they give reason to think that the author's mind is wandering, or not so attentive as it ought to be. This at least is the case in serious matters. When one writes or speaks in order to make others' laugh, the utmost playfulness of fancy is al- lowed, provided a due regard be had to decency. Figures are also blameable, when they have little meaning, or no meaning ; or when they darken the sense, instead of clearing it ; or when they lead the mind to base, trifling, or indelicate ideas. In the language of satire indeed, in order to raise a laudable abhorrence to vice, images may some- times be presented that are to a certain degree in- deh'cate. Such is that passage of Solomon, so re- iii;irkal)le for its energy and propriety : ' As a dog * retLU'ni;th to his vomit, so a fool' (that is, a
CHAP. I. § I. JIORAL SCIENCE. ^^5
wicked man) ' returneth to his folly.* Yet even ill satire this must be done discreetly, and with moderation, and always with a view to accomplish some good purpose. According to this rule, some disagreeable allusions in Pope might be vin- dicated, and some must be condemned ; and many things in Swift and Juvenal are in a very high de- ixree censurable. These three authors seem in- deed to have had a peculiar and unaccountable sa- tisfaction in thinking of images physically impure. A nice man, says Swift, is a man of nasty ideas. He probably knew this by his own experience, for he was very nice in the care of his person.
880. Tropes and figures should not be far- fetched J that is, should seem to rise naturally out of the subject, without being sought for. A writer who hunts after remote figures, as Cowley does on every occasion (at least in his poems) will never satisfy us that he is interested in his suliject. He looks like a man who makes jesting the busi- ness of his life ; or who calls your attention to what he is going to say, and then speaks in such a manner as to shew that he is not attending to it himself. Quintilian gives the following example of a figure of this kind : Jupiter hyhenias cana 7iive conspuit Alpes, Jupiter makes the Alps white in winter by spitting them all over with snow ; which is both far-fetched and indelicate. Speaking of Joas, a young man v.ho early in life had attracted public notice, or, as we more fluniliarly say, had
266 ELEMENTS OF FART IV.
o
made a noise in the world, Cowley has this remote and ridiculous figure, * In life's fair morn his ' fame did early croiv.* Similar examples are these that follow, to which many more might be added, from the same author : ' A strange hell
* pour*d down from heaven there came ;' — ' His ' large black eyes, fill'd with a sprightful light,
* Shot forth his lively and illustrious night ;* —
* Stars at th* approach of day Cashiered by troops ' at last drop all away.*
881. Inconsistent figures should not be mixed together ; things that have no connection in nature should have none in language. Take an example from a very respectable writer. — * Silence and dark- ' ness, solemn sisters, twins from ancient night, ' who nurse the tender thought to reason,* — so far is very well ; silence, darkness, thought, reason, are personified, and the allegory well enough pre- served : but, in the sequel, this reason, which had been nursed by two sisters, becomes on a sudden the pedestal of a pillar; and ' on reason build re - *■ solve. That column of true majesty in man.* In Pope's Odyssey we find these two lines, which have been much admired ; ' But from the breezy deep
* the blest inhale, Thefragrant murmurs of the wes-
* tern gale.* A gale may be fragrant, but a mur- mur can no more be so, than a smell can be sonor- ous or splendid ; murmur being perceived by one sense, and fragrance by another.. — When a figure alludes to a visible object, the image expressed by
€HAP. I. § I. MORAL SCIENCE. 267
it should be such as might be painted in a con- sistency with the nature of the things alkided to. This rule is very well illustrated in the five hundred and ninety-fifth paper of the Spectator, where there is a curious specimen of inconsistent figures in the form of a letter.
882. The nature of the thing expressed by the fi- gure should not be confounded with thatof the thing which the figure is intended to illustrate. AVheii Penelope, in Pope's Odyssey, calls her son 'ajJillar of the state, the figure is good, because it signifies that he assisted in snppoii'mg ih^ government ; but when she complains, in the next line, that this pil- lar had gone away without aslcing leave or bidding farcsely there is a confusion of the nature of a pillar with that of a man. ' Now from my fond ' embrace by tempest torn, Our other column of ' the state is borne, Nor took a kind adieu, nor ' sought consent.' — Flame is used metaphorically for the passion of love : but to say, of a lover, that he whispered his flame into the ear of his mistress (meaning that in a whisper he gave her intimation of his love), would be faulty ; because it is not the property ot^Jlame to be blown into the ear, nor of a tchisper to convey flame from one place to another. — I have heard of clergymen, in their intemperate use of figurative expression, in public prayer (in which it should be used as little as possible), committing strange blunders of this kind : as of one who prayed, that God would be ^
268 ELEMENTS OF PART IV,
rock to tliem tliat are afar off upon the sea ; and that the JSrithh navy, like mount Zion, might never he 'moved.
883. Figures should not be taken from things little known, or known only to the learned : if they are, they make language obscure, and perhaps be- tray a foolish ostentation of learning. To say of gaming, that it has been the gulf of many a man's fortune, is clear and significant, because every body has seen a gulf, and knows that things may be swallowed up and lost in it : but to say, that gaming has been the Cltaf^ybdis or the Syrtis of many a man's fortune, would be affected and ob- scure ; because many people, who know a gulf very well, know nothing about Syrtis or Charyb- dis. In the six hundred and seventeenth num- ber of the Spectator are some affected verses (pro- bably contrived on purpose to exemplify this fault), in which, among other things of the same kind, heaven in the day-time, having but one light or eye, is called a Cyclops, and in the night, having many eyes, or stars, is termed an Argus : and an empty hogshead thrown into a bonfire is called the cynic's rolling tenement ; which they only can un- derstand, who recollect, that Diogenes the cynic is said to have lived in an empty cask.
884. Figures should not be too frequent. Black- more, speaking of the destruction of Sodom, says, * The gaping clouds pour lakes of sulphur down, *' Whose livid flashes sickening sunbeams drown.'
CHAP. I. § I. jVioral science. 269
What a noble confusion! says a witty critic ; clouds, lakes, brimstone, flames, sunbeams, gaping, pour- in^-, sickening, drowning, — all in two lines! Seethe Art of Sinking in poetry ; in which the abuse of fio-urative language is well illustrated in a great va- riety of examples. Figures are ornaments. A few ornaments may do very well in most things, but too many are worse than none at all.
885. Figures should not be pursued too far, or hunted down, as the critics say : that is, we should not seek to trace out a great number of resemblances between the thing illustrated by the figure and the fiffure itself. For this would shew, that the writer's mind is wandering, and less intent upon sense, than upon wit ; which, when the matter requires serious- ness and simplicity, is always offensive. The sun, moon,*and stars, are sometimes called, in Scripture,
* the host of heaven.' A pious and ingenious au- thor, whom exuberance of fancy frequently leads into the fault now under consideration, prosecutes this figure so far, as to describe the heavenly bo- dies in every period of their military progress ; ' Who marshals this bright host^ enrols their names ;
* Appoints their posts, their marches, and returns^
* Punctual at stated periods ? \\\\o disbands These ' veteran troops, their final duty done, If e'er dis-
* handed ? He, whose potent word. Like the loud ' trumpet, levied first iXi^u powers In night's ingh'
* rious empire, where they slept In beds of dark- ' ness ; arm\l them with fierce flames, Arranged
270 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
' and cUscqjlincd, and clothed in fi^'old. And call'd * them out of chaos to the field, Where now they ' tvar with vice and unbelief. ' — Genius regulat- ed by correct taste, is sparing of allegories, and brief in description ; and, instead of fatiguing the attention with unnecessary circumstances, chooses rather to leave many things to be supplied by the reader's fancy ; and is always too much engrossed by its subject to have leisure to look out for minute similitudes.
886. In the eighth and ninth books of Quinti- lian's Institutions, an account may be found of other tropes and figures ; but the narrow limits prescribed to my plan will not allow me to enter further into this detail : which, therefore, I con- clude with remarking, that in poetry and anim.ated language, these rhetorical ornaments are more al- lowable, because more necessary, than in history, or common conversation ; that in pure science they should be used as little as possible, and in ma- thematical proof not at all. I shall only add, that, as a man's chief merit is in his mind and moral character ; as a person of known worth will always be esteemed, though his attire be coarse, and his features homely; and as no degree of elegance or of ornament will ever reconcile a considerate mind to the wicked or the worthless ; so the chief merit of what is spoken or written, lies in the thoughts. Good thouglits will be valued, though expressed with little elegance j and those that are absurd or
CHAP. I. § II. MORAL SCIENCE. 271
trifling, can never please a man of taste, though, in setting them off, all the tropes and figures should be employed, and every other ornament of diction.
SECTION IL
Of a Sentence.
887. A Sentence is a complete declaration of a thought : and may be either short, or moderately long. I formerly made some remarks on it (see § 66) ; I shall now make some others. Short sentences are recommended by their perspicuity, long ones by their dignity. Many short sentences in succession make a style harsh, and too many long ones make it tiresome. The English writers of the last century were apt to run into long sen- tences ; as may be seen in Clarendon's history, Milton's prose writings, and the theological works of Bishop Taylor, Dr Barrow, and others : the mo- dern French writers, and their imitators, affect short sentences. The best way is to unite the two methods, by intermixing shorter sentences with longer : but this must be done so as to appear the work of chance, rather than of design : and when it is done judiciously, the effect will be pleasing even to those who do not see the contrivance ; the lonsr sentence exercising the attention, and the short one relieving it. The Pollio of Virgil begins with seven
272 ELEMENTS OP PART IV.
short sentences, each consisting of one hexameter verse ; which forms an agreeable contrast to the pomp and harmony of what follows: of this whole ecloijue, however, the sentences are rather short than long ; that being suitable to pastoral simpli- city; bat in the (Jcorgic, where the poet employs all his art to the best advantage, the sentences are often long, and in the composition elaborate ; though nothing of straining or artifice appears. Sentiments, either in prose or verse, that are intend- ed to make a sadden and strong impression, and to remain in the memory, ought to be expressed in short sentences, or at least in short clauses : which is intimated in that rule of Horace, Qidcquid prce- cipies, esto hrevw. And it will not perhaps be easy to find a better exemplification of this rule, than in the following words of the angel to Adam in Paradise Lost. — 'Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou ' livest Live well ; how long or short, permit to
* heaven,' Of words so plain, so simple, and so re- plete with important admonition, one instantly feels the force, and t:an hardly lose the remembrance.
888. But it is not in moral sentences only that conciseness is emphatical : brevity is also, as Shake- speare says, the soul of wit. If you wire-draw^ wit into paraphrase, you deprive it of all its energy.
* As the sky in the morning gradually loses its
* gloomy hue, and assumes a ruddy and more
* cheerful colour, so the lobster, when it has for
* some time been immersed in water made to flue-
CHAP. I. § II. MORAL SCIENCE. 273
' tuate by the operation of fire, puts off that dark
* appearance which it had when alive, and becomes
* of a crimson or scarlet die.* One may laugh at the b>mbastic verbosity of this sentence ; but the wit of Butler's couplet, ' Like a lobster boiPd, « the morn From black to red began to turn,* is entirely lost. (See § 207). Caesar*s account of the rapid success of his arms. Vent, vidi, vic'i, loses something of its energy, when we only prefix the pronoun to each of the verbs ; I came, I saw, I conquered. That short sentences often give vi- vacity to narrative, will readily occur to any per- son who is conversant in the historical parts of Scripture.
889. Words of principal signification have some- times a peculiar elegance, because they strike the mind with peculiar energy, when they are placed in those parts of the sentence or clause in which they are likely to be most taken notice of, that is^ at the beginning or end ; which by some critics have been called the posts of honour in a sentence. ' Silver and gold have I none,* said Peter to the lame man who was expecting an alms ; which is much stronger than, I have no silver or gold ; the money, on which the poor man*s attention was fixed, being mentioned first, and the negation last, as serving to introduce what follows ; ' but such as
* I have I give thee ; in the name of Jesus Christ
* of Nazareth, rise up and walk.* A similar energ}', arising from a similar arrangement, appears in the
VOL. II. s
274 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
following sentences. — Go I must ; remain here T dare not; ' Great is Diana of the Ephesians;'
* His sail-broad vans He spreads for flight ;' ' Your
* fathers, where are they ? and the prophets, do
* they live for ever ? ' So started up, in his own
* shape, the fiend ;' * Me, tho* just right and the ' fix'd laws of heaven Did first create your lead- '= er.' — This has sometimes been termed transposi- tion, and artificial arrangement; but it is often more natural, and as such, more expressive, than what is called the grammatical order. Our lan- guage, however, from the fewness of its inflec- tions, does not often admit of it, especially in sen- tences of length.
890. All the w^ofds and clauses of a sentence should be so disposed, as that the reader or hearer may instantly perceive the meaning and connection, without confusion or ambiguity. Relative pro^. nouns therefore should, especially in those lan- guages that have few cases, be placed as near their antecedents as possible, that we may immediately perceive to what antecedent each relative refers.
* I am going wnth a letter to the post-oflice which I ' have in my pocket,' would not perhaps in any language be ambiguous, because every body knows that in a pocket a post-oflice cannot be contained ; but the order is very improper ; the relative pro- noun being subjoined to an antecedent to which it does not belong : which on many occasions would produce ambiguit3^ Adverbs, too, and those other
CHAP. I. § lU MORAL SCIENCE. 27^
parts of speech that limit or ascertain the significa- tion of words, should be placed as near as is con- venient, to the words to which they are related. From some Latin exercises that I have seen, which Jiad been composed by young persons in this country, it would seem to have been prescribed a^ a rule to those who were to write them, that the arrangement which disordered the words most was the most elegant. But every order of words, both in Latin and English, is faulty, which either hinders the meaning from being immediately per- ceived, or makes it in any degree ambiguous. That order is the most elegant, which conveys the mean- ing with the greatest energy.
S9l. A sentence should have unity of design ; that is, should express some one thought ; and when that is completely expressed, the sentence is at an end. Ineidental thoughts, however, that are subordinate to the principal thought, or strictly con- nected with it, may be introduced ; which will make complex, as well as simple, sentences, neces- sary r and complex and simple sentences, judici- ously intermixed, have, for a reason already given, an agreeable effect on the mind. Instead of seek- ing to put too much meaning into a sentence, which young writers of lively fancy are very apt to doy we should be careful not to heap our thoughts con- fusedly upon one another ; but should deliver them gradual!)', beginning with wliat is easiest, and go^
276 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
ing on step by step to what is more difficult. Un- practised writers will do well not to attempt very long sentences, for it requires a great deal of art to manage them properly. — Sometimes even when you understand a subject, you may be at a loss to know, when you attempt to write upon it, where to begin. In this case, suppose that you are going to write a letter, in order to explain it to one who knows little or nothing about it. This supposition will be a help to you ; for most people know how to begin a letter. Let it be continually kept in mind, that we cannot convey our thoughts intelli- gibly to others, unless we first understand them ourselves, as well as their arrangement, and the dependence of one upon another.
892. At the end of every sentence and clause, the voice, in speaking, naturally makes a stop ; which is longer or shorter, according as the conti- guous sentences or clauses are more nearly, or more remotely, connected in meaning and syntax. In modern writing, the place and duration of these stops are partly regulated by colons, commas, and other points : I say, partly, because a good reader will often find it proper to make a short pause, even where there is no point : and sometimes to pass quickly from one clause to another, even when they are separated by a point that would seem to require a longer pause. But this is a matter of nicety, and can hardly be determined by rules ; as it will in a great measure depend on the reader's
CHAP. I. § II. MORAL SCIENCE. 277
feelings, and on the significancy of the words he is pronouncing. One rule, however, may be given. Before a word or clause of great importance, it may be proper that the voice pause a little, because this rouses the hearer's attention ; and, after such a word or clause, a longer stop than usual may be made, to give him, as it were, a little time to reflect upon it. Points, such as we have, are a modern inven- tion ; and, in modern language, for reasons I have elsewhere specified (Theory of Language^ part 2, chap. 4), seem to be necessary. What we write, therefore, ought to be correct in punctuation, as well as in other respects. The Greeks and Ro- mans had no points like ours, and seem not to have suffered any material inconvenience from the want of them.
893. When in the same sentence the same thing is affirmed of more individuals than one, they are commonly joined by the connective and, if there be but two of them j if there be three or more, we put the connective between the two last ; and if the things whereof the same affirmation is made be of different classes, each class is referred to a clause by itself: as in this example : ' The ' sun, moon, and stars ; the earth and its furniture, 'animal, vegetable, and unorganized; and espe-
* cially the constitution of the human body and
* soul, do all declare the glory of God.* Some- times the omission of the connective, by bringing particulars more closely together, may make a de-
Q18 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
scription or narrative more lively ; as in Caesar's •veni, ticlr, vki, and jn Cicero's ahnt, excessit, eva- sit, erupt t : and sometimes, the conjunction pre- fixed to each individual clause may, by strongly impressing on the mind the import of that conjunc- tion, and of the clause that follows, give energy to the several members of a complex sentence; as in this quotation from a very eloquent writer : * I am ' persuaded, that 7ieifher death, nor Vife, «or angels,
* nor principalities, 7ior powders, Jior things present,
* 7ior things to corne, ?ior heighth, jwr depth, nor
* any other creature, shall be able to separate us
* from the love of God.' See also Genesis viii. 22.
894. Some have said, that a sentence ought not to end with a word of weak sound, or little meaning. Indeed, when such a word is emphatical, it has, at least in English, an effect that disappoints the ear ; as in this of Cowley, ' Tell me what kind of thing
* is wit. Thou who master art of — it/ But it is not so in every sort of writing, nor in all languages. When little words in the end of sentences are not emphatical, they often give an air of facility and freedom, which would be lost if every sentence were to conclude with words of solemnity or importance. Head in the second volume of the Spectator, the vi- sion of Mirzah, which is one of the most elegant and affecting compositions in our, or in any language ; and you will find, that many of the sentences end with pronouns, and other words of no distinguished pmphasis ; and you will probably be sensible, that
CHAP. U § II. 3M0RAL SCIENCE. 279
from this very circumstance the piece derives not a httle of its ease and vivacity. Nothing could have a worse effect in style, than to follow in the struc- ture of sentences any one uniform plan.
895. When we have written a few sentences, it will be proper, after such an interval as may make us in part forget them, to give them a revisal, and consider whether the choice and order of the words may be altered for the better, that is, so as to make the sense clearer, and the sound more har- monious : and then, let every word be expunged, that may be spared without injury to the sense* We shall find on these occasions, that there are in the expression superfluities, and harsh combina- tions too perhaps, whereof we were not sensible when we wrote them. Conversation abounds in superfluous words. Hence we are apt to make the first draught of what we write too verbose. The adverbs possibly, probably, much, very, greatly, certainly, surely, and the like, we often introduce where there is no occasion for them, and where for that reason they should not be. And here it may be proper to make a remark or two on some of the superfluities of language.
896. When the same sense is repeated in differ- ent words, it has been termed tautology. This may be seen in these passages. ' The spacious firma- ment o?i high. With all the blue ethereal sky :'* — ' The dawn is overcast, — the morning lowers — and heavily in clouds brings on the day ;' — ' Divide and * part the severed world in two :' — * He gained the
280 ELEMENTS OP PART IV.
^ universalXovt of all men :' — * He vanquished and ' overcame his enemies : — I pray and beseech you :' — ' He is a jealous and suspicious man :* — I read
* your letter with much pleasure and^ satisfaction* &c. I have heard a clergyman bless his congre- gation in these terms ; ' May the grace of God rest, 7'eviain, and abide with you, &c.; and lengthen out that expression of Moses, ' Thou art glorious
* in holiness and fearful in praises, doing won- ders :' into, * alone doing great and mighty won-
* ders/ Such tautologies have no other effect than to weaken the sense, by incumbering it with unne- cessary words. Sometimes, however, tautology is elegant, because emphatical; when it serves to raise inore than ordinary attention, as in these words,
* Verily, verily, I say unto you ;' or when with pe- culiar energy it impresses an event or image on the mind, as ' The whole nation perished, 7nen, xio- men, and childroi ;' — ' An old old man with locks
* all hoary grey,' — ' O dark, dark, dark, amidst the
* blaze of noon.' This last mode of speech is often used by children ; a proof that it is natural.
897. When words are used which, though they do not repeat the sense, add nothing to it, the impropriety is called Pleonasm : as, ' they return-
* ed back again to the town from whence they
* came forth ;' in which sentence, though short, there are four unnecessary words : for the whole meaning is no more than this ; * they returned to
* the town whence they came.' — * The everlasting
* club,' says the Spectator, * treats all other clubs
CHAP. r. § 11. MORAL SCIENCE. 281
* with an eye of contempt ;* where the words an eye of are both a pleonasm, and a mixed figure : —
* looks on the other clubs with an eye of contempt* would have been better, but is still somewhat pleo- nastic. The pleonasm, as well as tautology, is sometimes emphatical, and therefore may be ele- gant. * JFith these eyes I saw it.* — ' AVe have
* heard xvitk our ears, and our fathers have declared ' to us,' &c. — Perdition catch my soul, but I do
* love thee,* says Othello, eagerly looking after Desdemona.
898. There are writers, who use words and phrases which, though they cannot be said either to repeat the sense, or to add nothing to it, are yet faulty, because they occasion prolixity and lan- guor, and weaken instead of strengthening lan- guage. The fault has been termed verbosity ; and is very often found in those compositions that are called paraphrases. Buchanan's Latin paraphrase of the Psalms is full of it ; which is the less par- donable, because the original is so remarkably concise and emphatical. Paraphrase may have its use ; but should never be employed to interpret that which needs no interpretation ; and therefore, in general, though I will not say always, paraphrases of Scripture are unnecessarily verbose. The same thing is true of most of our poetical translations of ancient poems : ' Blessed is the man,' &c. says the author of the first psalm : ' That man hath * perfect blessedness,* say the Scotch versifiers -,
282 ELEMENTS OP PART IV.
where the word perfect is superfluous, and the phrase, ' hath blessedness,' for * is blessed,' is both prolix and aukward. ' The heavens declare ' the glory ot" God,' says David : Tate and Brady, by a paraphrastical antithesis ill expressed, intro- duce obscurity into this plain aphorism : ' The ' heavens declare thy glory, Lord, vi^hich that ' alone can fill.' Instances of injudicious verbo- sity are innumerable in Tate and Brady. Their hundred and fourth psalm, from this cause as well as others, is one of the worst pieces of composition in our language ; and the original is one of the jioblest in any language. For further particulars on tautology, pleonsam, and verbosity, as well as on the structure of sentences, the reader is re- ferred to Dr Campbell's learned and ingenious work on the Philosophy of rhetoric ; to which I am indebted for not a few of these remarks.
899. Before you begin to write a sentence, be sure that you distinctly know what you mean to say in it ; and let it be your next care to give it a right arrangement. He, says Horace, who makes choice of a subject of which he is master, w ill be at no loss, either for expression, or for method. Having run over your subject in your mind, and disposed, in a certain order, the several parts of it, write a few short notes to assist your memory ; that you may neither omit any part, nor introduce any part in an improper place. When this is done, begin to write ; and, in the first draught, be not
CHAP. I. § II. MORAL SCIENCE. 283
scrupuioLis in the choice of words ; but write on as fast a3 you can, till you get to the end of some one division of the subject. When your thoughts are thus laid on paper, you can review them at leisure ; and then is the time for correcting and improving the language. In perspicuity it is better to exceed than to fall short. We should study, says Quintilian, not only to be understood in what we speak or write, but to make it impossible for the attentive to misunderstand us.
900. Of some complex sentences the meaning- remains suspended till we come to the last word, and if we stop sooner the sentence is incomplete. These have been called periods. In other com- plex sentences, there will always be found, before the end, one place at least, at which if we stop, the construction of the preceding part will render what we have said, or written, a complete sentence. For this sort of sentence we have no particular name. The following is an example of a period. ' To those who love learning and mankind, it is ' matter of humiliation and regret, that so many,
* doctrines of high renown and ancient date
* should, when traced to their first principles, be
* found to derive their origin from verbal ambi-
* guity.' An example of the looser sort of sen- tence we have in these words. ' He set out on
* his return — but before he had gone two miles
* his horse stumbled — and threw him on the
284 ELEMENTS OF PART IV,
* ground — by which accident he dislocated his
* wrist — and broke his arm.' The period is the more complete sentence of the two, and in its structure the more elegant ; but must not be often attempted, especially in the modern languages, as it would fatiuue the reader's attention, and give unnecessary trouble to the writer. In Greek and Latin it is more frequent, than with us it ought to be ; the numerous inflections of those languages leaving it in ihe writer's power to vary, in many different ways, with equal perspicuity, the order of his words.
SECTION III.
Of Style.
901. As each man has peculiarities in his way of thinking, so has he in his manner of speaking, and consequently in his style. For style may be defined, that particular way in which a man chooses, or is accustomed, to express his thoughts, by speech or writing. Every style must be gram- matical ; but one mode of grammatical style may differ from another ; and, in the same language, two or more styles may be very different, and yet all very good. Cicero, Caesar, Sallust, and Livy, wrote each of them an excellent style, and yet dif- fer greatly in this respect : and the same thing
CHAP. I. § III. MORAL SCIENCE. 285
may be said of Virgil, Horace, Ovid, and Lucre- tius. It is a proof of correct taste and of skill in language, when a reader can distinguish an author by his style ; so as to know, without being inform- ed by his memory, when he sees an anonymous quotation, whether it be from Virgil, Horace, or Ovid ; from Cicero, Caesar, or Livy.
902. Style, in order to be good, must be not [ only grammatical but perspicuous. Language, not understood, is useless ; not easily understood, or liable to be misunderstood, is faulty. I have fre- quently had occasion to say, that in every language the most perspicuous writers are the most elegant ; and that obscure writers, whatever other merit they may have, are not elegant, and therefore not to be imitated. In poetry, however, on account of its ornamented language, its brevity, and the art that must be employed in adapting the words to the measure, we do not expect the same per- spicuity as in prose. Yet poetry is faulty, when it seems obscure to those who are acquainted with i the poetical dialect. Poetical imitations of the style of prophecy must also, in order to be na- tural, have some degree of obscurity j as in Gray's incomparable ode on the massacre of the Welch bards. For prophecy must be obscure ; because if it were to be fully understood before it is accomplished, it would interrupt the course of human affairs, by restraining the liberty of the human will. In the language of passion too, | which the poet must sometimes imitate, we do not |
§86 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
expect great perspicuity ; it being the nature of violent passion to unsettle the mind, and make i men speak incoherently. Yet even the lan- . guage of passion should, in the imitation, be so far perspicuous, as to let us know what is in the speaker's mind, and what he means to say or do.
903. That we may speak and write perspicu- ously, it is necessary: 1. That we perfectly .know our own meaning ; which is not always so easy a matter as one would imagine : 2. That we thorough- \y understand the words we make use of, with those nice varieties of sense, which often distin- guisli words a})parently synonymous : 3. That we unfold our thoughts gradually, and in a natural order, begirniing with the easiest and most evi- dent : 4. That we admit no words that are uncom- mon, or not generally understood ; unless we have occasion to introduce new ideas that were never before expressed in our language : 5. That we avoid digressions, and all those parentheses that do not easily fall into the sentence : 6. That we use no foreign phrases, unless we write in a foreign tongue, or have occasion to quote a foreign author in his own words ; and lastly, as was said already, that we study to be ratlier too perspicu- ous than too little so ; always bearing in mind, that others cannot be expected to enter soreadily into our thoughts and views of things as we our- selves do.
CHAP. I. § III. MORAL science; 287
904. The beauty of language does not consist in learned or uncommon phrases, but in the use of such plain words as are understood by every body, and yet not offensive by their meanness. A fa- mous comic poet (Moliere, if I mistake not) is said to have read each of his plays, before he published it, to an old woman his housekeeper, and to have altered every word which she did not understand. The example may be of use to writers in general, especially to those who write for the instruction or amusement of the people. Sir Thomas Brown, a writer of the last century, the author o^ Religio medi" ci, and an Inquiry into vulgar errors, affected much the use of uncommon words, derived from the Greek and Latin, which, notwithstanding his great learning ami genius, make his English so uncouth and obscure, that none can understand it thorough- ly, but those wlio are conversant in the classic tongues. His style, however, has found imitators ; especially of late years, since the rage commenced of disfiguring and debasing our language by inno- vation. Such writers, instead of brittle, would say fragile, instead of Jruitfuhiess, feracity, and humectate, sterile desida'ate, al^lactale, indigitate. Sec. instead oi moisten, barren, desire, or wish for, 'wean, point out, &c. Brawn has words still more extraordinary, as feriation, for keeping kuUdat/y dedentition, for falling of teeth, dcquaniitate for diminish, commertsality, for the state of living at the same table ^ diaphamfy for tratisparcncy, dissenta»
288 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
neons, for inconsistent, and many others. I need not tell you that these strange words are all bad, and that no elegant and unaffected writer or speaker will ever U'^e them.
905. Excessive brevity of expression is hurtful to perspicuity ; as may be seen in Aristotle, Taci- tus, Florus, Marcus Aurelius, and some few pas- sages of Horace, who candidly says, Brevis esse laburOy ohscurus Jio. Too many words, and too much illustration, have sometimes the same effect, by confounding the reader, and making him inat- tentive : of which I have often been sensible in reading Locke on the Human understanding ; and still more, in toiling through Shaftesbury, who. in the art of conveying little meaning in many words, exceeds all the authors I am acquainted with ; Bolingbroke, in his Idea of a patriot king, except- ed : for this is vox et prwterea nihil. Of perspi- cuity without defect or redundance, with hardly one word too many or too few, we have admir- able models in Caesar and Xenophon, particularly the former. The same thing might be affirmed of Thucydides and Sallusl, if their style were less ar- tificial. Cicero, though in praise of his compo- sition we can hardly say too much, has often more words than are necessary ; which indeed is com- monly the case with professed orators. Swift, in some of his best pieces, is very correct in tliis par- ticular, and has seldom a word too few or too many : and the same thing may, for the most part.
CHAP. I. § III. MORAL SCIENCE. 289
be said of Addison j whose style, however, is, upoit the whole, much more pleasing and harmonious than that of Swift. Allusions to facts or customs little known, make language both obscure and pedantic ; a fault very conspicuous in Persius and Suetonius ; who, as they are among the most dif- ficult, are also to be ranked with the most inele- gant, of ancient authors.
906. Secondly : Style, in order to be good, must be harmonious ; that is, agreeable to the ear, and easily articulated. Of harmony in verse I shall speak hereafter. Harmony in prose depends on two things chiefly ; sweetness of sound, and 'variety of sound. The former quality we may attain, if we admit no words of difficult pronun- ciation, where their place can be supplied by others of easier sound, and equally significant ; and if we arrange our words so, as that too many harsh sounds may not be produced by their union : For in every tongue some words are more easily pronounced than others ; and, as words may both begin and end with consonants, and as the sound of some consonants does not easily coa- lesce with that of others, we shall hurt the har- mony of style, if we bring too many harsh con- sonants very near one another. To give one familiar example : vast strength is harsher thaa great strength, because not so easily pronounced j for in the former we have five consonants in suc- cession, STSTR, which must all be articulated, and in the latter there are four only. These things, VOL. ri, T
290 ELEMENT a OP PART IV,
though trifling, claim notice. But observe, that sense must not be sacrificed to sound, even in verse, far less in prose.
907. Variety of sound will be attained if we make contiguous sentences, and clauses, of differ- ent lengths, some longer and others shorter ; and if we vary the syntax, wherever it may be varied consistently with perspicuity and the laws of the language, and without any appearance of affecta- tion, or of too much art. Words of similar ter- mination coming near one another, especially if the sound is remarkable, have a bad effect in prose, at least in modern language. * I acknowledge
* with humility the sterility of my fancy, and the
* debility of my Judgment,* is neither so harmoni- ous, nor in any respect so elegant, as, * I acknow-
* ledge with humility, that my fancy is barren, ' and my judgment weak.* * In a declamation on ' the state of the nation, he made this observa-
* tion,' would be intolerable : better thus : ' In a
* declamatory discourse on the state of the nation, ' he made this remark.* The Greeks and Ro- mans were more attentive, than most moderns are, to the harmony of their prose. Indeed, it was much more in their power; their languages being more musical, and admitting, as I have often oc- casion to repeat, greater variety in the order of words. The most harmonious prose-writers of antiquity are Plato, Demosthenes, Isocrates, Cicero, and Livy. Our best model, in this and many other respects,, is Addison,
CHAP. I. § III. MORAL SCIENCE. 291
908. Thirdly : Style, in order to be good, must be pure ; that is, must be according to grammar, and to idiom. It is the business of the gramma- rian to teach how language is made grammatical. But words may be according to grammar, v/hich are not according to idiom ; for this last term de- notes peculiarity. Quid hoc sibi vult is pure Latin ; but * what would this to itselP is not English. * An useful member of society* is good English ; but utile membrum societatis would be bad Latin. To this diversity of idiom it is owing, that many things, which are elegant in one language, cannot be literally, and at the same time 'purely^ translated into another. It is true, that in English we have Hebrew^ Greek, and Latin idioms ; which, from having been used by our best writers, and in our best books, are become part of the language. But the English tongue is now so completely formed, and so copious, that, unless new arts and new ideas be invented, this liberty must not be taken any more. For, if any person might at pleasure intro- duce new words and phrases, the language would soon change, and in a few years the best part of our literature be lost. In writing, therefore, and in speaking, we ought always to attend to the prac- tice of former writers, especially of those who are of some standing, and whose style has been gene- rally approved. At present, as I formerly remarked, and every day observe with great concern, there is an unaccountable propensity, among many of our
292
ELEMENTS OF PART IV^
people, to bring in new words, and French, Ame- rican, West Indian, and Scotch idioms, and other uncouth phrases; not only without necessity, but to the great inconvenience of those who adhere to the genuine Enghsh language, and who now, in newspapers and other recent publications, often meet with expressions which they cannot under- stand. If this propensity should continue to pre- vail, and become general, our speech must in a few years be barbarous. But this, every person of taste, who loves his country, understands its language, and wishes well to its literature, will do every thing in his power to counteract.
909. Scotch people of education find it an easy matter to avoid broad Scotch words ; and this we should all be at pains to do ; because the habit of using barbarous language debases the taste ; taints the mind with a peculiar sort of indelicacy ; and makes a man appear, especially among stran- gers, to very great disadvantage. We have also in North Britain a number of improper idioms, which have been termed Scotticisms, and which it is more difficult to guard against, as many are apt to mistake them for good English. A list of about three hundred of these was published some years ago in an anonymous pamphlet ; v/hich, though no doubt extremely defective, was well received, and, there is reason to believe, of some use.
910. Lastly : Style, in order to be good, must be simple. Simplicity of style is not easily acquir-
CHAP. I. § III. MORAL SCIENCE,
293
ed, or described : it is the effect of much practice, a clear understanding, and a great knowledge of the language. A simple style is perfectly easy, natural, and perspicuous, without either defect or redun- dance : it admits of ornament ; but all its ornaments seem, as it were, to present themselves of their own accord, without being sought for. It conveys the idea of great plainness and candour in the writer, and looks liker the work of chance than of art, though in reality it is the effect of great art : ut sibi quivis spe?rt idem, sudet multum — ausus idem. But it is only by studying the best authors, for they in every language are in style the simplest, that one can either understand this simplicity, or practise it. Of the ancients most remarkable for it, are Homer, Xenophon, Herodotus, and most of the Greek historians, Caesar, Terence, Virgil, the epistles of Horace, the descriptive parts of Lucre- tius, and the narrative parts of Ovid. Of the Eng- lish, who excel in this way, are Dryden and Pope in their prose writings ; Swift in his best pieces, particularly his three first voyages of Gulliver, his letters to a young clergyman, and to a young lady on her marriage ; Mrs Montagu, in her Essay on Shakespeare ; Seeker, Porteus, and Hurd, in their sermons. But I hope I shall give no offence by say- ing, that in simplicity, as well as harmony, Addison is still our best model. The style of Scripture, especially in the historical parts, and in the Psalms, is majestically and inimitably simple.
294* ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
SECTION IV.
Of Prose Stj/le, -^Historical, — Common,— ^Rhetoricalf-^ Philosophical.
911. So much for style in general. It is divid- ed into prose and verse. Prose may be subdivided into historical, common, rhetorical, and philosophi- cal. Historical prose may be subdivided into true history and romance ; which last resembles history in the style, but in respect of invention belongs to poetry. Of these, I shall give as many particulars as can be admitted within the narrow limits pre- scribed to my plan.
912. The style of history must be clear, simple, harmonious, elegant ; but not so much ornament- ed, as to give ground of suspecting the author to have been more attentive to his language than to the truth. In this respect, as in some others, Florus is a faulty writer, his language being ob- scure, and affectedly poetical : Tacitus has the same fault, though in general an excellent and instruct- ive author. The historian should avoid strange words, and allusions to customs little known ; or, if he must mention these, it is his duty to explain them. Suetonius is to blame in this respect, as ^ell as for the harshness of his style, and the inde«
CHAP. I, § IV, MORAL SCIENCE* 29;?
licacy of many parts of his narration. The histo- rical style ought further to be grammatical ; and solemn, but not pompous ; and without any at- tempts at wit or satire, which are beneath the dig- nity of the historian's character. Voltaire is often affectedly witty in his histories ; Swift's account of the four last years of Queen Anne is a mere poli- tical satire, without even the appearance of can- dour. Bishop Burnet, though an entertaining and valuable writer, is often ostentatious in his manner, and in bis style not uniformly gramma- tical ; and Clarendon, according to the fashion of his age, is apt to exceed in the length of his sen- tences. But for dignity and fulness of narrative, and especially for a lively display of the characters of men, Clarendon's History of the Rebellion is a work of the highest merit; and, by those who have studied it, is considered as one of the most precious monuments of political wisdom that ever appeared in the world. Lord Lyttleton's History of Henry U. is, in respect both of style and of exactness, one of the best models of histo- rical writing in our language. Hume's and Ro- bertson's histories are also elegant and instructive. And Gibbon's History of the decline and fall of the Roman empire would have deserved much praise, if the style had not been disfigured by af- fectation (for of Tacitus, whom he takes for his pattern, he imitates the faults more successfully than the beauties) ; and if his prejudices against
296 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
religion had not led him into some misrepresenta- tions of fact, which, though they have been fre- quently confuted, he has not yet thought proper to rectify.
913. It has been made a question, whether an liistorian should confine himself to facts only ; without either making reflections, or relating any thing which he does not believe to be true. Surely it is his duty to relate facts, and speak truth. Yet some of the best historians have introduced moral and political reflections ; have made speeches for some of their personages ; and have added, no doubt, little circumstances of their own invention, in order to render the story more entertaining and instructive. Nor can they be blamed for these li- berties, provided they take care, that what they may thus invent shall in itself be so inconsiderable, as to lead the reader into no mistake.
914. Herodotus, the most ancient Greek histo- rian now extant, is remarkable for a pleasing sim- plicity of style, and for a very agreeable manner of telling a story. He travelled into Egypt and other countries, in order to qualify himself for instruct- ing mankind ; and many curious pieces of ancient history are to be found in his works. His chiefj and indeed his only fault, is credulity. I am far 'from suspecting, that he meant to impose on his readers ; but it is impossible to believe that he "Was never himself imposed on. What he saw, for example, in Egypt, I am willing to admit j but
Jt^AP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE, 29?
they who know ancient history cannot acquiesce in some things that uei^e told Mm in Egypt concern- ing the duration of the Egyptian monarchy. How- ever, the beauty of his style, and his having had the honour to exhibit the first specimen of Greek history, ought to endear his memory to every lover of learning.
915. Thucydides began to write the history of the Peloponnesian war at the time the .war began. His information was good ; his testimony is unexcep- tionable, and, I think, has never been controvert- ed. He excels all writers alniost in strength and brevity of expression ; which however has nothing of either the quaintness of Fiorus, or the ambiguity of Tacitus. His speeches, some whereof may be authentic, though others seem to be of his own com- position, are masterly pieces of eloquence ; and his descriptions beautiful and highly finished. In what esteem his work was held by the best judges may appear from this ; that Demosthenes is said to have transcribed it eight times, and to have got the greater part of it by heart. It is certain that the orator often imitates the historian, and som.etimes copies his phraseology.
916. Xenophon, a disciple of Socrates, is not more celebrated for his philosophical dialogues, than for his history of Greece, and of the famous retreat of the ten thousand Greeks. Of this extra- ordinary transaction he was an eye-witness, and liad a pjincipal hand in conducting it, The truth
29S ELEMENTS 0? PART IV,
of his narrative was never called in question: and the beautiful simplicity of his style has not been exceeded or equalled, except perhaps by Caesar. Of his Cyropedia I shall speak afterwards. — Poly- bius also was a military man ; and his account of that war, between the Romans and Carthaginians, which happened in his own time, is allowed to be more authentic, and is certainly more intelligible, than what we have from the Roman historians. His chief talent lies in describing battles, and other operations of war ; for which reason he has always been a favourite author with military men of learn- ing. His language is his chief defect ; for he was born in Arcadia ; and probably, from being early employed in business, never had an opportunity of frequenting those parts of Greece, in which the Greek tongue was spoken with the greatest pro- priety. There is also, now and then, a little con- fusion in his narrative.
917. The Parallel Lives of Plutarch are very instructive and entertaining. The author employed twenty years in travelling, to collect materials for this great work. He possesses, beyond most writers, the art of selecting those little incidents in the lives of men, which make one intimately acquainted with their characters. * For,* as he himself justly remarks,in his introduction to the life of Alexander,
• it is not always in the most distinguished achieve-
• ments that men's virtues or vices may be best dis- ^ cerned j but very often an action of small note, a
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 299"
* short saying, or a jest, shall distinguish a person's
* real character, more than the greatest sieges or
* most important battles.* This author's aim was to give, not a complete detail of all the actions wherein his great men were engaged ; but such an account of their conduct in public and pri- vate life, as might exhibit a distinct view of their virtues and vices, abilities and temper. In this he has succeeded wonderfully well. After reading one of his lives, we think we have been revising the his- tory of a particular friend or old acquaintance. In> deed the knowledge of battles and sieges, births and deaths, dissensions between parties, and de- bates among senators, however interesting to sol- diers, antiquaries, genealogists, and politicians, is not the most useful part of history, nor is it uni- versally entertaining. But those histories that un- fold the passions and characters of men, the con- sequences of their virtues and vices, and the rise and procedure of their purposes and projects, are not only entertaining, but in a very high degree useful. By laying open, as it were, the human heart, they enable us to discover, both our own characters, and those of other men ; which is a^ very important part of knowledge. Every philo- sopher, and every scholar, ought to make himself intimately acquainted with the lives of Plutarch.
918. Of Roman historians Livy is the greatest, and in some respects the best. He wrote the his- tory of Rome, from the arrival of ^neas in Italy t^
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his own time, in one hundred and forty-two books ; >vhereof only thirty-five remain, and a few frag- ments. Never was there a more entertaining writer. In his style and manner he often imitates Vir- gil ; and, like that great poet, excels particularly in description ; setting before our eyes every object he describes, and making us present in every event he relates. His eloquence is inexhaustible ; his language concise, elegant, harmonious, and often uncommonly beautiful. He is not so accurate as Poiybius in describing military affairs ; whence it may be presumed, that he was not a military man. His battle of Cannae is not very intelligible ; that of Poiybius is almost as distinct as if it had been written by Caesar. The critics have charged him with provincial improprieties of style ; but no critic was ever able to point them out : and it is hardly to be supposed, that a person of rank and learning, born at Padua, and not further from Rome than York is from London, could find any difficulty in avoid- ing provincial barbarism. He also has been blamed for recording omens and auguries. But it should be remembered, that an attention to these form- ed a part, and a part not inconsiderable, of the Roman policy ; and often gave rise to important transactions. The college of augurs at Rome were much attended to, and public matters of moment seldom undertaken contrary to their advice. It was indeed an engine of government ; and therefore an historian would not give a distinct view of the Rq-
CHAP, I. § IV, MORAL SCIENC2. 301
man affairs, if he were to omit their omens and auguries. Read Livy with care ; when you are masters of his language, you will read him with ex- traordinary delight ; and when you have read him, you may with reason think, that you have made no little proficiency, both in the history of Rome, and in its language.
919. Julius Cagsar prefixed to his account of the Gallic and civil wars, the modest title of Com- mentarii ; as if he had been only setting down from day to day, as a help to memory, a summary of his affairs in a journal ; for this is the meaning of the word. But every competent judge will rank Caesar in the highest class of historians, f<::)r the sin- gular exactness, brevity, and perspicuity of his nar- rative, and the unequalled simplicity of his style. He writes like a man who had all his life been accustom- ed to the most polite conversation, and to every sort of public business; and he describes his own great actions with a modesty which every man truly great will be ambitious to imitate. Cicero has declared, - that no person in his senses will ever undertake to improve Cesar's narrative. Roger Ascham is still more explicit. ' Thus justly,' says that able critic, ' I may conclude of Caesar, that whereas in all
* other, the best that ever wrote in Greek or La- ' tin (I except neither Plato, Demosthenes, noi
* Tully), some fault is justly noted ; in Caesar only
* could never yet fault be found.' ' Others know,' says a historian who had been his secretary, * how
S02 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
* elegantly and how correctly his Commentarii were
* composed ; I also know how easily and quickly ' he composed them ; and therefore, though others
* admire them much, I must admire them more.' To make a reader, who is not a military man, com- prehend the detail of battles, must be, I should think, a matter of no small difficulty to the histo- rian. Of our modern engagements, especially at land, I can make nothing ; and of many ancient ones not much. But Caesar's battles are more in- telligible, as they were generally more decisive. Even that with the Nervii, which must have been a scene of extraordinary confusion, I think I un- derstand ; and while I read it, am at a loss to de- termine which is more admirable, the elegant pre- cision of the journalist, or the astonishing abilities of the commander. I wish it were more the fa- shion among historians to imitate this author. But the quaintness of Tacitus, and the pertness of Voltaire, are much more easily copied than the na- tural and graceful simplicity of Cagsar.
920. Cornelius Nepos is an historian whom we ought not to undervalue because we learned him at school, or because he is very brief in his ac- count of things. His style is simple, and often elegantly so } and he som-etimes gives, in few words, ^ pretty distinct view of the characters of men. He is not so full, so entertaining, or so moral, as Plutarch ; but hehas considerable merit notwithstanding. Some historical facts are found in him which we find no- where else J and his lives of Epaminondas and Pom-
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 30S
ponius Atticus are very well written. He was esteem- ed by Cicero, with whom he sometimes correspond- ed by letter, and who, in one of his epistles to Atti- cus, speaks of him as a man whose name would go down with honour to posterity. — Of Saliust no- thing has come to us entire, but the conspiracy of Catiline, and the war with Jugurtha ; two pieces so highly finished, and with so much judgment, that nothing in history can be preferred to them. He imitates Thucydides'in his style, which is very concise and emphatical, but has perhaps too much the appearance of art and labour. The history of Alexander by Quintus Curtius is very entertain- ing ; but this author is fond of marvellous things, and his language, though elegant, is rather too poe- tical for history. Arrian*s Greek history of Alex- ander is more authentic ; but the author's ostenta- tion is somewhat disgusting. — Justin wrote an abridgement of a history of the world, which had been originally composed in Latin by Trogus Pom- perus. Trogus is lost, but Justin remains. He tells a story very well ; and is sometimes elegant, but unequal.
921. In these brief remarks on the historical style, 1 have not distinguished history, properly so called, from biography, or the history of lives. Nor have I made a distinction between general his- tories of nations, such as those written by Livyand Herodotus, and those other histories which regard only particular transactions, or periods of lime j
8^ ELEMENTS OF PART IV*
like Thucydides, on the Peloponnesian war, Xeno- phon's retreat of the ten thousand Greeks, or Lord Lyttleton*s age of Henry II. These, and the other divisions and subdivisions of history, it would have been necessary to mention, if I had intended a trea- tise on the art : but for that I have not time, nor is this a proper place. See, in the second book of Ba- con's Advancement of Learning, a particular ac- count of the genera and species of history.
922. A subordinate kifid of history are annals, memoireSy and travels ; of which, no more is ex- pected than that they shall record things perspi- cuously, and with a strict regard to truth. Of the historical edifice, the historian is, as it were, the architect ; annahsts and memoir writers, are those who collect and prepare the materials of building. It is true, that some books, bearing the name of annals, are so well written, as to deserve the appel- lation of history : such are the Annals of Tacitus, and Sir David Dalrymple's Annals of Scotland ; which last, as far as it goes, is the most authentic ac- count extant of the affairs of North Britain. He- iiault's abridgement of the History of France is an excellent work of the same nature. But we must not judge of books by their titles, nor confound an elegant historian, though he should assume the bumble name of annalist, with the common herd of compilers and memoir writers. — The French are remarkable for the number of those writings which they call memoirs. It is said that almost every
CHAP. Ik ^ IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 30j
French oflicer writes the memoirs of his cam- paign ; and that in the Hbrary of the king of France there are, relating to the civil wars only, more ma- nuscript works ot this kind, than one man could read in four hundred years, at the rate of sixteen hoins a-day. These writmgs, we may suppose, are not much read, except by those who love to col- lect anecdotes, or who read with a view to qualify themselves for writing history.
923. Books of voyages and travels are very amus- ing, and may be very usetul. First, by promot- ing the knowledge of nature, they extend the bounds of natural history and physics. Secondly, by making us acquainted with all the parts of this globe, they improve navigation, open new sources of commerce, supply materials for new arts and sciences, and prepare the way for a general circula- tion of civility and truth. And, thirdly, by dis- playing the varieties of human manners, opinions, and laws, they throw light on the human character, and so give greater extent and stability to the poli- tical sciences. Some books of this sort are ele- gant as well as instructive ; particularly Anson*s voyage round the world, by Ptobins ; and Cook's voyages, as written by himself. The voyages com- piled by Hawkes worth are written with more art than those of Cook, but with less simphcity. Cook puts me in mind of Caesar, Hawkesworth of Quin- tus Curtius.
924. Of Fabulous Histoky. To convey truth
VOL. II. V
306 ELEMENTS OP PART IV,
under the disguise of allegory and fable, is an an- cient practice, and may be very useful. The com- mon people cannot attend to long reasonings, or abstract investigation : a short proverb which is easily remembered, or a little allegorical tale, found- ed on the appearances of the visible universe, has much greater weight with them. Accordingly, in ancient times, when mankind were more illi- terate than they are now, moral precepts were ge-. nerally delivered in the form of proverb or apho- rism, and public teachers had frequent recourse to fictitious narrative, in order to exemplify and en- force their doctrines.
925. Many of those fables that bear the name of JEsop are no doubt modern ; but some are an- cient, and well suited to the purpose above men- tioned, being brief and simple in the style, and for the most part contrived with some regard to the real natiue of things. And this rule should be observed in fables. Things irrational and ina- nimate may, from the necessity of the case, be al- lowed to speak and think ; but, with this excep- tion, the laws of nature should be as little as pos- sible violated. The picture of Cebes the Theban, and the story of Hercules conversing with Virtue and Vice in the second book of Xenophon*s Me- morahiliay are elegant and instructive allegories, but formed on a more extensive plan. The Q/ro- pedia of this author is a mixture of history and in- vention J the great incidents in the story being
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 80t
true ; but many circumstances added, to exhibit, in a variety of lights, the character of Cyrus the Great, whom the author intended as a model of a good and wise king. The eastern nations have Ions been famous for fabulous narrative. The lazy life led by their princes and great men, makes them have recourse to story-telling as an amuse- ment. But probability and moral instruction they seldom think of: being too ignorant to desire the first, and too voluptuous to relish the last. Their supreme delight is in adventures, that are not only astonishing but incredible.
926. Moderir prose fable may be divided into four sorts : 1. The historical allegory : 2. The reli- gious and moral allegory : 3. The poetical and se- rious prose fable : 4. The poetical and comic prose
fable. 1. The historical allegory gives a view of
some part of history disguised by feigned names and fabulous adventures. It is either serious or comic. Barclay's Argenis is an example of the former : Arbuthnot's History of John Bull of the latter. The former, which is wTitten in good Latin, though rather unequal in this respect, alludes to the civil wars of France in the time of Henry III. John Bull is in the burlesque style, and gives a lu- dicrous representation of the state of parties in Queen Anne's reign.
927. II. Religious and Moral Allegories were frequent in Europe two or three centuries ago^ and assumed a dramatic form, and were acted on
308 ELEMENTS OP PART IV-
the stage under the name of moralities. The act- ing of them ceased in England about the time of Shakespeare, but had a longer continuance in Spain and Italy. The Pilgrim's Progress, by John Ban- yan, is a religious allegory, and has been much read. It was written about a hundred and thirty years ago, while the author, who had been a tinker, was in prison in Bedford, where he was confined twelve years. Some false notions in theology may be found in it, and the style is vul- gar, and savours of the author's trade ; but the fable is ingenious and entertaining. Gulliver's- Travels is a moral or rather a political allegory. As far as the satire is levelled at human pride and vanity, at the abuses of learning and the absurdity of projectors, so far the author deserves great praise; for the tales are well conducted, and the style is beautifully simple. But the last of the four voyages contains a fable which is at once un natu- ral,, indecent, and impious. The Tale of a Tub, by the same author, is also, in the narrative parts, allegorical ; being intended to typify the reforma- tion from popery. It is one of the wittiest, and most humoious, performances in any language. But there are in it many gross indecencies ; the sa- tire is too much exaggerated; and a bad effect upon the mind it cannot fail to have, by forming ludicrous associations of the meanest ideas with the most awful truths of religion. It the author meant well to Christianity and the church of England, as I
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 309
hope he did, this work betrays great ignorance of human nature. But the habitual joker spares no- thing ; and this is supposed to have been Swift's first work. And candour requires me to add, that he never put his name to it, or owned it as his.
928. III. IV. To the poetical prose fable, which is poetical in the invention though prose in the style, may be referred all those writings that have been termed romances. They might be divided into serious and comic. In explaining their origin and nature, it is necessary to introduce some par- ticulars, that will throw light on the history of modern literature, and of the manners of modem Europe. — The subversion of the Roman empire, in the fourth and fifth centuries, was followed, or accompanied, with a total neglect of learning, which continued four or five hundred years. During this period, the world being very ignorant, was very credulous. Of ancient times, of foreign countries, and of nature in general, they knew little ; and of course were easily induced to adopt absurd superstitions, and to admit as proba- ble, or even as true, the most ridiculous fables, of enchantment, magic, giants, dragons, and other monsters. — Here it will be proper to recollect what was formerly mentioned of those northern nations, who destroyed the Roman empire, and introduced the feudal government ; of the nature and gradual corruptions of that government ; and
310 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
of the contests and other disorders which, in con- sequence of these corruptions, took place between the kings and nobility of Europe. See § 702 — 706.
929. Among the expedients contrived by the kings for checking the turbulence of the feudal no- bility, and giving them employment abroad, that there might be peace at home, we may reckon the crusades. These were military expeditions into Palestine, undertaken by Christian princes, with a view, as they gave out, to drive the Saracens and other infidels from that holy land. They were well suited to the military genius and superstition of the times ; and served to inflame that passion for adventures, w^ar, and wandering, which was the foundation of chivalry. This was partly a mi- litary and partly a religious profession. The dis- orders of the feudal system, owing to want of au- thority in the kings, and to the obstinacy and pride of the nobles, having risen to such a height, that the greatest outrages were every day committed, and it was hardly possible to bring a criminal to justice, as the law had little or no effect; the in- stitution of chivalry was by no means absurd, but on the contrary served in some measure to make up for the want of law^ and public justice.
930. The person who made choice of this pro- fession, after receiving the honour of knighthood from one who was himself a knight, went up and down in complete armour, and on horseback, in
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 311
order to defend the weak, punish the injurious, and dehver those who were oppressed. He was also the declared champion of the catholic faith against all Saracens, and other unbelievers. He wished, above all things, to be considered as the defender of the weaker sex, who, in those days, were subject to frequent injuries, and often desti- tute of the means of self-defence, as well as of redress. And he bound himself by the most so- lemn vows to discharge the duties of his profes* sion, in opposition to every danger.
931. Another peculiarity in the character of these knights was their courtesy. The feudal po- licy divided mankind into various ranks, ^ome high and others low. Yet it happened, that, under the influence of this policy, persons of all ranks would often meet together, and remain in company for a considerable time ; for the castle of a feudal baron contained many people, and the great hall of the castle was a place of general resort. In circum- stances like these, men naturally become courte- ous, from standing in awe of one another ; while those of better rank study to recommend them-^ selves by affability, and their inferiors by respect- ful behaviour. Hence it is, that monarchy, where there must be different orders of men, and where the example of the better sort must extend its in- fluence to their inferiors, has generally been found, at least in modern times, more favourable to ele- gance of manners, than republican governments
312 ELEMENTS Oi? PART IV,
are, in which all the citizens are supposed equal and independent ; which, however, they never were in fact, nor can be.
932. It is to be observed too, that the knights of chivalry, especially those who were errant, or wandering knights, were brave and fierce, jealous of honour, and continually in arms. Single com- bat was so familiar to them, that they often had recourse to it as an amusement; whence in the histories and fables of those times we read of tilts and tournaments, at M'hich kings and nobles, and even ladies, were present, to be entertained with the show, though men were sometimes killed in those encounters. Reproachful words, therefore, especially if they reflected on the faith or courage of a knight, or on the character of those ladies ■whose champion he professed himself to be, were immediately resented in a hostile manner. Hence the origin of duels ; on which I have declar- ed my sentiments in another place. See § 74ri, 742.
933. Knight-errantry, though at first respect- able, soon became a nuisance. This was owing, partly to the changes gradually introduced into the- feudal system, whereby the kings acquired more power, and the law more influence, which made this profession unnecessary ; and partly to the out- rages committed by the knights themselves, or by persons assuming that disguise, in order to practise Tpbbery and other enormities. J'or the armour of
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 313
that time was a complete covering to the whole person ; so that a man, as long as he was not van- quished, could easily keep himself unknown. The law, therefore, was obliged to interpose; and in some countries knight-errantry was expressly prohibited. Eut the spirit of it was kept up by the romances of those times, which described the adventures of errant knights in the most extravagant style of fable. The first books that appeared in modern language were chiefly of this kind ; and could not Fail to draw attention, at a time when books were rare, and mankind ignorant and credulous.
934. That part of the south of France, which was anciently called Provincia Rommia, and still bears the name of Provence, was about this time the most civilized country in Europe. It no doubt retained something of the old Roman discipline, and probably of the Greek too ; Marseilles, a great city in it, having been a Grecian colony. Here it was that the first specimens appeared of composition in a modern tongue. They were made in verse, by persons who, in the language of that country, were called troubadours, that is, poets ; for the term has the same etymological sense with the Greek word poet, both being derived from verbs signifying to make^ or invent. These verses were sung by artists cdWed jongleurs, who travel- led through Europe, and gained a living, partly by singing them, partly by playing on musical in- struments, and partly by feats oi activity and slight
£14 ELEMENTS OP PART IV,
of hand. This last part of their trade suggests the origin of our word juggler. The subjects of these poems were various ; love, panegyric, satire, novels or tales, fragments of history, and even theological controversy ; but, whatever the sub- jects were, the poems gave great entertainment, and made the Provensal tongue, which was a mix- ture of the French and Italian of that time, fa- shionable in many parts of Europe. Then it was that the neighbouring nations began to imitate the Provensals, and to try how their respective lan- guages would appear when committed to writing. This was the commencement of modern literature ; and it is not much more than five hundred years since this great event took place.
935, The Italian tongue was the first that came to perfection. For in Italy, soon after the period above mentioned, several men arose of great ge- nius and learning, particularly the poets Dante and Petrarch, and the novelist Boccace, who rais- ed the character of the Italian language and poetry so high, that the Provensal v/as neglected and al- most forgotten. The first romances in prose, at least the first of any great length, appeared in Spain and France, and by their extravagance, so well adapted to the taste of those times, encourag- ed the phrenzies of chivalry, and at the same time retarded the advancement of classical learning ; which, however, not long after the time we speak of, began to gain ground in Europe ; the taking
.CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 315
of Constantinople by the Turks, about the middle of the fifteenth century (which is also the era of the invention of printing with moveable types), having occasioned a general dispersion of learned men, most of whom took shelter in Italy, and brought along with them what remained of the Greek and Latin literature. But while a taste con- tinued for the extravagance of the old romance, we may well suppose, that the natural simplicity of the classics would not be relished except by a few men of judgment, who thoroughly understood them.
936. At last, in the year one thousand six hun- dred and four, Cervantes, a .Spaniard, a man of great humour and learning, published what he called the history of Don Quixote ; in which the absurdities of the old romance and of knight er- rantry are exposed in the strongest light, and in the most ridiculous attitudes. Chivalry instantly disappeared ; for all Europe read and admired this performance, and saw that more entertainment might be found in a book written with simplicity and sense, and a regard to nature, than had ever been conveyed in the monstrous fables of chivalry. This book not only banished knight-errantry, but served to promote a good taste in literature ; so that the publication of Don Quixote forms an era in the history of both modern learning and mo- dern manners. It destroyed the old romance, and brought in the new, in which, as far as it has beei^
SI 6 ELEMENTS OF PART IV,
cultivated by good writers, probability is as much \studied as in the other it had been neglected.
937. The new romance, if it were worth our while to analyse it, might be divided into the se- rious and the comic ; and each of these subdivided into, 1. Those that follow the historical order of events, and give an account of a man's life from his birth to the conclusion of his adventures; and, 2. Those which are formed according to the poetical mode of arranging events (whereof I shall speak attervvards), comprehend but a short space of time, and are taken up chiefly in describing some one event, with the subordinate events that operated in producing it. Robinson Crusoe is an example of the serious historical romance; Gil Bias is historical and comic. The novels of Rich- ardson are serious, and in the structure of the fable poetical. Fielding's Amelia is poetical and comic. — But it is time to leave this subject.
938. Romances are a very unprofitable study; most of them being unskilfully written, and the greater part indecent and immoral. Robinson Crusoe, however, and the novels of Ptichardson, are exceptions ; and it is with great pleasure that I also except those of Mr Mackenzie, and of the amiable and accomplished author of Cecilia. Other exceptions, no doubt, I might have found, if I had not for many years, by want of time and of inclination, been restrained from this sort of read- ing. Of Fielding, as a novelist, I admire the hu-
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 31?
mour ; and his artful contexture of fable ; in which last respect I tliink he has no equal among the moderns : but his morality and delicacy are not what I wish they had been ; and his style, though in general excellent, especially in his latter works, is not always free from bombast, and sometimes betrays an unnecessary ostentation of learning. To contract a habit of readinfT romances is extremelv dangerous. They who do so lose all relish for history, philosophy, and other useful knowledge; acquire a superficial and frivolous way of think- ing ; and never fail to form false notions of life, which come to be very hurtful to young people when they go out into the world. I speak not rashly, but with too good evidence, when I afKrm, that many young persons of both sexes have, by reading romances, been ruined ; and that many of the follies, and not a few of the crimes, now pre- valent, may be traced to the same source. Vi\ therefore, I have enlarged a little on tlie rise and progress of this sort of writing, it was not from any partiality to the main subject, but on account of some more important matters that seemed to be connected with it. So much for historical prose. See § 911.
939. The next kind of prose may be called common ; whereof the simplest form is that which we use in conversation. It should be perfectly plain, without hard words or strong figures, or any thing that looks like a studied harangue ; and
318 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
the words should flow easily, without either hurry or hesitation. If a man be naturally witty or hu- morous, that will appear without any care of his ; and a delightful effect it will have, especially when recommended by the candour and good nature of the speaker. But wit and humour, that seem to be studied, or intended to give pain, are very of- fensive. All inelegant words and barbarous idioms ought to be avoided. Even common proverbs should not be frequent, because they have a vul- garity about them ; and because they shew, in him who often uses them, a want of invention, and that he has little to say, but what he has got by heart. Allusions to foreign languages, and to learning in general, are unseemly, unless our company be all as learned as we. To force upon others our own concerns and studies, and theories, or the business of our profession, is intolerable ; and has been branded with the name of pedantry. Let him who is called on to explain any point of literature, do it in the plainest words, avoiding terms of art as much as possible. To tell long stories, to make long speeches, or to seem ambitious to engross the general notice, make a man a disagreeable companion. If he be a person of rank, ar of emi- nent ^abilities, he will be as much attended to, as any reasonable man can desire.
940. Avoid dispute ; or, if it cannot be avoided, conduct it with good humour, and bring it as soon as you can to an end j without shewing any desire
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 319
of victory, or any triumph if you should obtain it. More earnestness may, however, be expected from us, if we are obhged to speak in defence of virtue, religion, or an absent friend : but let us never be- tray symptoms of passion. Cahiiness, on these oc- casions, gives double energy to every thing we say, interests the audience in behalf both of us and of our cause, and prevents all the disagreeable effects of contention. To promote the happiness of those with whom we converse, to comply with their in- nocent humours, and never give way to morose- ness or ill-nature, are moral duties, as well as es- sential to good breeding. I need not add, that detraction, defamation, falsehood, and all uncha- ritableness and indecency of speech, are not only contrary to good manners, but exceedingly flagiti- ous. See more on this subject, § 213, '214, 224, 225, 226. See also Cicero de Ojflciis, 1. 37.
941. Young men, in order to acquire a com- mand of words, and a habit of speaking easily, and with presence of mind, sometimes form them- selves into clubs, or small societies, and practise extempore declamation. This may be of use ; if they are careful not to contract a disputatious tem- per, or a habit of diffuse, prolix, and declamatory talk. They v.iil do well to 'remember, that to converse and to declaim are ciuite different thinsis and, when in general company, must never forget themselves so tar, as to think they are at the club. It was formerly the custom in all schools of learn-
320 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
ing, and in some it still is, to dispute on all sub- jects, and in opposition to the plainest truth, and the most awful doctrines of religion. It was per- mitted, nay commanded, to argue against the truth of revelation, and the being of God. For thus it was supposed, that the student would most effec- tually make himself master of the subject, and of every argument both for and against the truth ; and at the same time improve himself in an art, then valued more than any other, the art of dis- putation. But I cannot conceive it possible, that the human mind should be in any respect improv- ed by arguing against conviction, or by endeavour- ing to make others believe a doctrine w'hich we ourselves not only disbelieve, but perhaps abhor. Such an exercise seems to me likely to make men rather hypocrites than philosophers ; rather un- principled than wise. If people will argue for the sake of argument, let them choose some indif- ferent topic, on which they have not formed any settled opinion, and in regard to which they may without inconvenience adopt either the one side of the question or the other : and many such topics there arc in history and politics, as well as in phi- losophy. But let no man argue against his own conviction, or urge any reasonings that may have a tendency to hurt the moral or religious j)rin- ciples of those who hear him. And let all such wrangling matches be confined to schools, or clubs, or private apartments, and never introduced into
CHAP. I» § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 321
company, where they generally promote ill humour, and destroy all the rational pleasures of social in- tercourse.
942. The second sort of common prose is that which is used in letters, or familiar epistles. This in simplicity and plainness should come very near the style of conversation ; be free from all barba- rism, impropriety, and ambiguity ; and have no- thing in it that looks like the effect of elaborate study. If a letter of business be sufficiently intel- ligible, and comprehend every thing your corres- pondent wishes you to write about, it can hardly be too short. But do not affect brevity too much, lest it lead you into obscurity, or an uncouth bluntness of expression, or make you overlook something that should have been minded. How- ever, in regard to the propriety of your epistolary style, as well as the length of your letters, muck will depend on the nature of the business you write of, the rank or station of your correspondent, and the degree of acquaintance that may subsist between you and him.
943. If you have many things to write of, set down the several heads on a separate paper, before you begin your letter ; which will make it both complete and methodical ; a single word may be a sufficient hint for each head. Every rule of good manners must be carefully observed ; and there- fore one should make one*s self acquainted with the customary forms of address that are used t»©
VOL. II. X
/ 0^ y^ '4^ '
i ^^^^
II
m
ELEMENTS OF
PART IV.
persons of different ranks and conditions. It is a good rule to answer every letter that requires an answer as soon as you have read it, or as soon after as you can : many people perplex themselves ex- ceedingly, by delaying to answer their letters. In matters of business delay is generally dangerous.
944. Of this sort of style, the epistles of Cicero are excellent models, being equally remarkable for brevity, politeness, and perspicuity : those of the younger Pliny have also considerable merit. The epistles of Seneca are of the nature of moral essays, and are not to be considered as models of letter- writing. Some French authors are admired for their talents in this way ; the voluminous collection of letters ascribed to Madame Sevigne, is deserv- edly celebrated. But Voiture and Balsac, though they have their admirers, seem to me to be trifling writers, and to abound in affectation and false wit. Pope imitated or translated some of Voiture's let- ters, and published them with the title of Letters to several ladies ; but his reputation would lose nothing if they were ia be expunged from his works. His correspondence, however, with Swift, Bolingbroke, Addison, and others, contains many letters that maybe considered as models of the epis- tolary style. Lord Chesterfield's letters, if the four volumes, by being cleared of exceptionable matter, were reduced to two or three, I should re- commend as excellent in the style, and not unin- structive J but in their present state I cannot reconi-
to w»
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CHAP. I. § IV. ISIORAL SCIENCE.
323
mend, being of Dr Johnson's opinion, that they teach the manners of a fop, and the morals of a harlot. I know not in the English tongue any collection of genuine letters more elegant, or more entertaining, than those of Gray, which a few years ago were published by Mason. The letters as- cribed, fictitiously I believe, to Sir Thomas Fitz- osburn, are rather verbose, and in the composition too elaborate, but in other respects of very consi- derable merit.
945. The third sort of common prose is the written dialogue, which imitates polite conversa- tion, and should therefore have all possible ease, simplicity, and elegance. It is either comic or se- rious. Of the former sort the dialogues of Lu- cian, and some of those of Erasmus, are particu- larly excellent. The character of these authors is well known. Both are witty and learned ; but Lucian despised all religion ; whereas Erasmus was a pious divine, and, by some moderate satire well pointed at the church of Rome, contributed to bring on the reformation from Popery. Nei- ther of them lived in an age of eloquence, yet the language of both is very good : I know not whe- ther any other modern can vie with Erasmus in the fluency and classical simplicity of his Latin style. — Of the serious dialogue, in which points of philo- sophy, politics, and criticism, may be discussed, there are many elegant models. Those of Xeno- phon and Plato have long been admired, for pen;
i^^-
MVi$
^■^^
"^^:'^::..
522
ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
persons of different ranks and conditions. It is a good rule to answer every letter that requires an answer as soon as you have read it, or as soon after as you can : many people perplex themselves ex- ceedingly, by delaying to answer their letters. In matters of business delay is generally dangerous.
944. Of this sort of style, the epistles of Cicero are excellent models, being equally remarkable for brevity, politeness, and perspicuity : those of the younger Pliny have also considerable merit. The epistles of Seneca are of the nature of moral essays, and are not to be considered as models of letter- writing. Some French authors are admired for their talents in this way ; the voluminous collection of letters ascribed to Madame Sevigne, is deserv- edly celebrated. But Voiture and Balsac, though they have their admirers, seem to me to be trifling writers, and to abound in affectation and false wit. Pope imitated or translated some of Voiture's let- ters, and published them with the title of Letters to several ladies ; but his reputation would lose nothing if they were to be expunged from his works. His correspondence, however, with Swift, Bolingbroke, Addison, and others, contains many letters that maybe considered as models of the epis- tolary style. Lord Chesterfield*s letters, if the four volumes, by being cleared of exceptionable matter, were reduced to two or three, I should re- commend as excellent in the style, and not unin- structive J but in their present state I cannot reconi-
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 323
mend, being of Dr Johnson's opinion, that they teacli the manners of a fop, and the morals of a harlot. I know not in the English tongue any collection of genuine letters more elegant, or more entertaining, than those of Gray, which a few years ago were published by Mason. The letters as- cribed, fictitiously I believe, to Sir Thomas Fitz- osburn, are rather verbose, and in the composition too elaborate, but in other respects of very consi* derable merit.
945. The third sort of common prose is the written dialogue, which imitates polite conversa- tion, and should therefore have all possible ease, simplicity, and elegance. It is either comic or se- rious. Of the former sort the dialogues of Lu- cian, and some of those of Erasmus, are particu- larly excellent. The character of these authors is w^ell known. Both are witty and learned ; but Lucian despised all religion ; whereas Erasmus was a pious divine, and, by some moderate satire w^ell pointed at the church of Rome, contributed to bring on the reformation from Popery. Nei- ther of them lived in an age of eloquence, yet the language of both is very good : I know not whe- ther any other modern can vie with Erasmus in the fluency and classical simplicity of his Latin style. — Of the serious dialogue, in which points of philo- sophy, politics, and criticism, may be discussed, there are many elegant models. Those of Xeno- phon and Plato have long been admired, for po^-
S24f * ELEMENTS OF PART IV,
liteness of address, and of composition. Many of Cicero's philosophical works are in the form of dialogue. He seems to have made Plato his mo- del. His three books, De Oratore, are transcen- dently elegant, and the best example, perhaps, now extant of this sort of writing. In England, however, it has been attempted with good success. Lord Lyttleton's Dialogues of the dead, with the three dialogues subjoined by Mrs Montague, all, or most of which belong to the comic species, are excellent both in matter and in style. Kurd's Po- litical and moral dialogues, which are serious, have also distinguished merit. To this work the learn- ed author has prefixed an essay on the written dialogue, to which for further information I refer you. *
946. The third kind of prose I called rhetorical (§ 911), which I divide into three sorts, the po- pular essay, the sermon, and the oration. — The popular essay has flourished more in England than in any other country ; but is not peculiar to England ; some of Seneca's epistles being compositions of the same character. The first series of popular and periodical essays that appeared in England, the first at least of any great name, are those which we have under the name of the Tatler, a paper of ■which the first number is dated in April 1709, and which was published thrice a-week. It was pro- jected and begun by Sir Richard Steele, who soon received a powerful coadjutor in Addison. The
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCFENCE, 325
Tatler was followed by the Spectator ; one paper of which was pubhshed every morning, Sunday ex- cepted, for about two years together. Steele and Addison were the principal writers of the Specta- tor also, as well as of the Guardian, that succeed- ed it ; but some materials were communicated by other authors, particularly Budgell, Pope, Lord Hardwicke, afterwards chancellor of Eng- land, and Dr Pearce, late bishop of Rochester. The next remarkable publication of this sort is the Rambler, written by Dr Johnson, and published on Tuesdays and Saturdays in 1750 and 1751. This was followed by the Adventurer, the work of Dr Hawkesworth, Dr Johnson, Mr Warton, and others ; and it was succeeded by the World, written by Mr Moore, Mr Jenyns, Mr Cam- bridge, Lord Chesterfield, Horace Walpole, now earl of Orford, Sir David Dalrymple, and others. AH these, as well as the Idler by Dr Johnson, and the Mirror and Lounger, which were written by Scotch authors, and have been very favourably re- ceived by the public, deserve an attentive perusal ; as they contain much beautiful morality, sound criticism, delicate humour, and just satire on the follies of mankind.
947. But of the whole set the Spectator seems to me to be the best; and of all our periodical writers Addison, I think, deserves the preference, both for style and for matter. ♦ As a describer of * life and manners, he must,* says Dr Johnson,
S26 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
' be allowed to stand perhaps the first of the first ' rank. His humour is so happily diftused as to
* give the grace of novelty to domestic scenes and ^ daily occurrences. He never outsteps the mo-
* desty of nature, nor raises merriment or wonder ' by the violation of truth. His figures neither di- ' vert by distortion, nor amaze by aggravation. ' He copies life with so much fidelity that he can
* be hardly said to invent ; yet his exhibitions
* have an air so much original, that it is difficult
* to suppose them not merely the product of ima-
* gination. — As a teacher of wisdom he may be ' confidently followed ; his religion has nothing in
* it enthusiastic or superstitious ; his morality is ' neither dangerously lax, nor impracticably rigid.
* — His prose is pure without scrupulosity, and
* exact without apparent elaboration ; always equa- ' ble, and always easy. — AYhoever wishes to attain ' an English style, familiar but not coarse, and ' elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days
* and nights to the volumes of Addison.' — See more on this subject in a Preface to an edition of Addison's papers, printed at Edinburgh in 1790, in four volumes.
948. The popular essay, being addressed to the people in general, ought to be simple in the style, that it may be understood by every reader ; and elegant, that it may please the learned. Great closeness of matter and conciseness of expression are necessary, because the work itself is short, an^
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 327
intended to be read at some moment df leisure. — In Great Britain, we have multitudes of popular essays on the subject of politics ; and seldom see a newspaper that does not contain one or more of them. Some of these have been collected, and published in volumes, with various titles ; but I cannot recommend them to your perusal, as they are dictated by party spirit ; and not to be de- pended on, either for truth of narrative, or can- dour in argument. Addison's Freeholder must, however, be exempted from this censure. Many of its papers are in the author's best manner, though all are not equally excellent. It was pub- lished in 1715, with the laudable purpose of re- moving the prejudices which some at that time en- tertained against the royal family ; and I have beea told that it did much good ; which could hardly fail to be the case, the humour being irresistible, and the arguments unanswerable. '—We have seen even religious controversy discussed in popular es- says. The Independent Whig, by Gordon and Trenchard, is a work of this nature ; has some merit in the style, and is not deficient in vivacity. But, though the authors profess to point their sa- tire at the church of Rome, they are by no means favourable to that of England, and seem to take unbecoming liberties with Christianity itself. For this reason, and on account of the ludicrous manner in which the most venerable topics are occasional- ly treated in it, I would not recommend the In-
328 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
dependent Whig to the perusal of young per- sons.
949. I am to blame for not having mentioned sooner the Essays of Lord Verulam ; which were among the first examples of the popular essay that appeared in England ; and which, for sound philo- sophy, and accurate observation, have not been exceeded, nor perhaps equalled. They deserve to be not only read, but studied ; being fraught with maxims of wisdom, expressed with great energy, though not always elegance, of style. The author published them also in Latin, with the title ofSermO' nes Fideles. I need not remind my hearers of the character this noble author bears in the literary vorld ; they know that he was the great reformer of philosophy, and that to him science is more indebt- ed, perhaps, than to any other person. Yet I know- not whether any part of his works discovers greater force of mind, or a more original way of think- ing, than his Essay. He says of them himselfj and very justly, ' Although they handle those
* things wherein both men's lives and their per- ^ sons are most conversant ; yet I have endeavour- ' ed to make them not vulgar, but of a nature
* whereof a man shall find much in experience, ** and little in books j so as they are neither repeti-
* tions nor fancies.' And in another place he ex- presses himself on the same subject thus : ' I do ' now publish my Essays, which of all my works ^ have been most current, because, as it seems.
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 329
* they oome home to men's business and bosoms.' He appears to have had a high opinion of these es- says : * I do conceive,* says he, ' that the Latin vo-
* lume of them' (meaning the edition he published in Latin), as it is the universal language, may last as long as books last/ — ' I dedicate them to
* you* (says he to the duke of Buckingham),
* being of the best fruits, that, by the good in-
* crease which God gives to my pen and labours,
* I could yield.' — A work, so much a favourite of the great Lord Verulam, is surely entitled to the attention of every lover of learning.
950. The second species of rhetorical prose is the Sermon, which is supposed to be delivered by a clergyman, in order to instruct his people in the doctrines of religion, and animate them to the practice of it. No other composition has an end so important as this ; its purpose being to lead men to happiness, both in this life and in that which is to come ; and the doctrines it delivers are, or ought to be, founded on the dictates of infinite w^isdom. The aim of the preacher is quite differ- ent from that of the ancient orators of Greece and Rome ; and therefore his manner ought to be quite different. They addressed the people, the senate, or the judges, with a view to obtain their immediate consent to some political measure ; if they could do this, they gained their end ; and they were not solicitous whether they gained it by speaking truth, or affirming plausible falsehood ; \)y convincing the re % on of the audience, or in-
S30 ELEMENTS OF PART IV»
flaming their passions. But the preacher declares the truth, and nothing but the truth ; and ought to declare it so, as to convince the understanding, and improve the heart, not by a temporary im- pression merely, but by establishing permanent principles of piety, rectitude, and obedience. Let it be remarked further, that his business is totally different from that of the player; and that the gestures and declamation of the stage would in the pulpit be intolerably absurd. The player means nothing more than to please by imitating nature ; the preacher seriously and humbly expounds the word of God. There are not in earth two profes- sions more incongruous. How absurd then is it for a preacher to imitate the gesture and pronunciation of a player ! He might with equal reason put his sermon in verse, because poets make verses ; or sing them to a tune, because musicians adapt music to words.
951. To attain excellence in the art of composing and pronouncing sermons, the following qualifica- tions seem to be necessary. 1. The preacher must be a man of piety, and one who has the in- struction and salvation of mankind sincerely at heart. If this is not the case, he will not be able to touch the hearts of his hearers ; and if he can- not do that, he will preach in vain. In the utter- ance of him who speaks what he believes to be true, and of infinite importance, there is an ear- nestness, a simplicity, and an energy, of which
CHAP. I, § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. 831
every man of sense who hears him feels the effect, and which recommends a preacher more than any other accompHshment. To which let me add, that though hypocrisy be at all times, and in men of all professions, a most hateful vice, in a clergy- man it is peculiarly atrocious, and must be ac- companied with such corruption and baseness of heart, as cannot fail to render him not only useless in his calling, but absolutely detestable.
952. 2. A preacher must be a man of modest and simple manners ; and in his public perform- ances and general behaviour conduct himself so, as to make his people sensible, that he has their temporal and eternal welfare more at heart than any thing else. Without this disinterested love to the souls of men, he will never gain the confidence of those under his care, if they be people of sense-: they may wonder at his talents, but will not profit by his ministry. Heason, as well as Scripture, de- clares, that a Christian minister ought to preach, not hhnself, but the gospel ; that he ought to be much more anxious to promote the knowledge and love of Christianity, than to gain applause by an ostentatious display of his address, eloquence, or learning. He must, in the third place, be well in- structed in morality and religion, and in the origin- al tongues in which the Scripture was written : for without these talents he can hardly be qualified to explain Scripture, or to teach religion and mora- lity. Yet, as men are more effectually led to virtue
332 ELEMENTS OF PART iV,
by example flian by precept, it must be owned, that a holy life and good sense may make a clergy- man very u eful, even though his learning and ge- nius be not ^reat.
953. He must, fourthly, be such a proficient in his own language, as to be able to express every doctrine and precept with the utmost simplicity ; and without any thing in the diction, either finical on the one hand or vulgar on the other. I have been told, that candidates for holy orders are usu- ally examined on their knowledge of ancient lan- guage : this is undoubtedly right : but they ought, in my humble opinion, to give proof that they are also masters of their own. An elegant simplicity of style is more necessary in a sermon than in any other composition. For to men of all ranks and capacities the preacher addresses himself: and if he does not make what he says intelligible to all, and in respect of style not offensive to any, he may chance to do more harm than good. Plain lan- guage, therefore, he must speak ; otherwise the vul- gar cannot understand him : and any thing which tends to debase his subject he must not utter ; le^t he offend both the learned and unlearned part of his audience. If he introduce uncommon words, to shew his learning ; violent figures, to display his wit ; poetical flourishes, to make people admire his tine fancy ; or theatrical looks and gestures, to in- timate, that he is not unacquainted with players and playhouses ; ignorant people may be amazed at
CHAP. It § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. S33
him ; but every person of sense will see, that the instruction of liis hearers is with him but a second- ary consideration.
954. A sermon should be composed with re- gularity, and unity of design, so that all its parts may have a mutual and natural connection : and it should not consist of many heads, nor should it be very long. If these rules are not observed, it may make a slight impression while it is heard, but will quickly be forgotten. One can remember all the parts of a regular machine, and their con- nections, on once seeing it : but had those parts been laid together in a heap without connection or method, they would have taken no hold of the memory. (See § 128.) The human mind can attend for a certain space ; but if it be over- fatigued with attention, what it hears will do it harm without doing good. And let it be con- sidered, that the common people are less capable of strict attention than the learned are, because less used to it ; so that very long sermons can answer no end, either to learned or unlearned hearers, ex- cept to wear out the spirits of the former, and raise in the latter a foolish admiration of the preach- er's powers, both which ends are very remote from the views of a conscientious minister of the gospel. — I shall only add, that a sermon ought to be pro- nounced with gravity, modesty, and meekness, and so as to be distinctly heard by all the audience. Let the preacher therefore accustom himself to ai-
SS4} ELEMENTS OF FART IV
ticulate slowiy, and deliver the words with a dis- tinct voice, and without artificial attitudes or mo- tions, or any other affectation.
955. The third and last species of rhetorical prose is the oration ; delivered to judges from the bar, to wise men in a senate, or to the people in a
Jorum. This I must omit ; partly, because it is not of general use ; partly, because it is a sub- ject too extensive for the time I should have to be- stow on it ; and chiefly, because it has been illus- trated at large by Cicero and Quintilian, with whom every scholar will be careful to make him- self acquainted. Two things are especially necessa- ry to enable a man to excel in it. The first is, a ready eloquence ; which is in some measure the gift of nature, but may be much improved by prac- tice in speaking, and habits of recollection, and ac- curate study. The second is, an exact knowledge of the laws and constitution of one's country, and a perfect acquaintance with that business, whatever it may be, which is to form the subject of the oration.
956. The last sort of prose composition is the philosophical (§ 911): which may be subdivided into mathematical, physical, and moral. In the mathematical style, the utmost perspicuity and ex- actness are necessary ; with such an arrangement of propositions and arguments, as cannot be altered but for the worse ; and all tropes, figures, and other embellishments of diction, are prohibited. Eu- clid is the best model, especially in the original j
CHAP. I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. S3S
which is the easiest Greek book in the world, and a good preparative to the studying of the lan- guage ; all his words being used in their proper signification, and without any mixture of a figurative meaning. I need not say any thing of the advan- tages of mathematical study : you have, in another place, heard them explained to better purpose than I can explain them ; and are, I doubt not, sensible, that they must be very great. Not to mention the importance of mathematical science, as the founda- tion of astronomy, navigation, surveying, gunnery, fortification, mechanics, and other useful arts, I would only observe, that it is of singular benefit in improving the understanding of the student, by en- gaging his attention, inuring him to accuracy and method, and making him acquainted with one spe- cies ofreasoning which is liable to no exception. Two cautions only I would suggest to him ; and those are, 1. Not to waste his time and talents in those geometrical speculations thatare not connected with practice ; and, 2. Not to apply the rules of mathe- matical reasoning to other parts of knowledge ; or expect the same mode of arrangement, and form of proof, in theology, morality, and history, which he has been accustomed to in the mathematical sciences. — The philosophy of bodies, as far as it is connected with geometry, ought also to be deliv'er- ed in the plainest words, and without any figura- tive embellishment. But those physical inquiries which are not strictly mathematical, may admit of
SSft £LEMENTS OF PART I\%
rhetorical decoration, and should be as entertaining as possible. Perspicuity, however, and exactness of method, should never be sacrificed to elegance ; for the philosopher ought always to remember, that his chief concern is^ to find out and explain the truth.
957. All the doctrines of moral philosophy, in- cluding logic, are founded in a careful observation of the human mind. Now to human creatures nothing is more interesting than that which relates to hu- man passions, feelings, and sentiments : and there- fore it is the teacher's fault, and not the fault of the subject, if every part of moral philosophy is not made very entertaining. The phenomena of hu- man nature, which are the facts whereon this sci- ence is built, ought to be illustrated by examples from history and common life ; and these should be frequent, that attention may be continually en- gaged, and the subject, notwithstanding its abstract nature, made level to the capacity of every person who can observe what passes in his own mind, and in the world around him. Those parts of moral science that relate to our improvement in virtue, iind the regulation of the passions, ought to be not only entertaining, but also enforced with that simple and expressive eloquence, which touches the heart, and disposes it to form good resolutions.
958. In this, as in every other science, accuracy of arrangement, and perspicuity of expression, are indispensable. Ambiguity of language is particu-
CHAP* I. § IV. MORAL SCIENCE. Q37
larly to be guarded against ; or, where ambiguous terms must be used for want of better, which will sometimes be the case, let care be taken to explain or connect them so, as that the reader and writer may understand them in the same sense, and distinguish them from other terms of the same or similar sound, but different signification. To give one example. If we have occasion to use the words taste, smell, sight, or the like, let us do it in such a way as that the reader may instantly discover whether we mean the thing perceived, the faculty perceiving, or the perception itself as distinguished from both. For, as I formerly observed, all these, however differ- ent, are both in common and in philosophical laiv guage, frequently denominated by one and the same word. — Had this rule been duly observed, we should, have been free from a great deal of erroneous rea- soning, which has appeared in the world under the respectable name of moral science.
959. When I affirm, that all moral inquiry ought to be perspicuous and entertaining, it may be thought that I forget to take into the account those speculations concerning power, infinity, space, du- ration, innate ideas, &c. which in some moral sys- tems take up great room, and which, being of au abstruse nature, admit of few or no illustrations from common life, and are therefore attended with unavoidable obscurity. I confess that these things are not entertaining ; I fear they arc not always in- telligible. From science, therefore, I would exclude
VOL. II. V
533 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
them ; as tbey do harm, and cannot do good. They do harm : because they consume precious time ; exhaust the vigour of the understanding in vain controversy ; pervert reason, by encouraging sophistical wranghng ; and dispirit the mind in the search of truth, by presenting to it nothing but un- certainty. And they cannot do good : because they lead to no principles that can be appHed to any useful, or indeed to any practical^ purpose. Every science, and moral science especially, ought to refresh the mind with the knowledge of truth, and give strength to the human faculties, by estab- lishing rules for the regulation of human conduct, both in common life and in the pursuits of litera- ture. But this speculative metaphysic can answer no end, that is not either bad or frivolous ; and therefore shall never form a part of my moral sys- tem, or attract the notice of anyperson, who in these matters is willing to be determined by my advice. Plain, practical, and useful truth, ought to be the sole object of philosophical inquiry,
SECTION V.
Of the General Nature of Poetri/.
960. The design of the following remarks on poetry is, not to teach or recommend the practice of the art, but so to explain the principles of it.
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 339
as to shew its connection with the human mind ; and to raise, if I can, in those who hear me, as much curiosity concerning it as may incline them to read the best ancient and modern poets ; a study which will be found equally amusing and profitable. (See § 911). The essential rules of this art, as well as of every other, are to be inferred from its end or destination. (§ 233). That one end of it must, in all ages, have been to give pleasure^ can admit of no doubt. For why should a man take the trouble to put his thoughts in verse, which is a work of some difficulty, if he did not hope, by so doing, to make them more agreeable than they would have been in prose ? or why should he contrive fables, if he did not think that they might have in them something which people would take pleasure to read, or to hear ?
961. History and philosophy aim at instruction as their chief end, and if they accomplish this are allowed to have merit. But verses, however instructive, have no poetical merit, unless they be in other respects agreeable. The philosopher and historian are at pains to please their readers, that they may the more effectually instruct them : the poet instructs, that he may the more effectually please. Instruction, therefore, is one end of poe- try, but it is a secondary end ; and we never esti- mate the degree of poetical merit by the quantity of instruction conveyed in the poem : every body knows, that the most instructive books in the world
340 ELEMENTS OF PART IV,
are written in prose. — It has been asked, whether poetical or prose composition be the more ancient ? The question is not material, and hardly admits of a general answer. If the book of Job be older than the Pentateuch, as some think it is, poetry will claim the priority ; if Moses wrote the Pentateuch before Job was written, the precedence must be given to prose. In ancient Greece, and in Provence at the revival of letters (§ 934), there is good reason to think that prose was posterior to poetry. Whether verse, that is regular mea- sure, be essential to this art, will appear afterwards. I call it poetry, after the example of most of our late writers ; but am sensible, that its ancient name poesy is more proper.
962. It is said that the poet instructs with this view, that he may the more effectually please. That this may be understood, it is to be observed, that the human mind, when it is not biassed by preju- dice or passion, generally prefers virtue to vice, and truth to falsehood. That, therefore, which tends to corrupt the heart, or which can do it no good, or which plainly proceeds from a bad heart, must al- ways offend the most respectable part of mankind ; as that whose tendency is to make the heart better must please in tlie same proportion. It is true, that vicious characters may in poetry be introduced speak- ing and acting viciously : but if that be done in or- der to deter from vice, by exhibiting its deformi- ty and fatal consequences, we may be instructed or
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE; S41
improved by it, and consequently pleased. It is also true, that poems, and other fictions, have been popular, in which it was attempted to exhibit vice under a seductive disguise ; or as the object, not of disapprobation, or ridicule (§ 109), but of that sort of laughter which breeds a liking to the ludi- crous object. But this is repugnant to the end of the art, as Well as to the practice of all genuine poets. And the popularity of such things cannot be lasting ; as it will be found to arise from a tem- porary cause ; from the novelty of the things them- selves ; from the fashion of the age ; from the in- fluence oi patrons ; or merely from the inadvert' ence of the public, who were not at first aware of the real nature of the novelty that caught their at- tention.
963. The poet is not, like the historian and phi- losopher, obliged to adhere, in his narrative, to truth : he may invent as many incidents as he pleases, if by so doing he can make his work agree- able ; the chief end of the art being to give plea- sure. The word poet means maker or inventor ; as if fiction were in some sort necessary to distin- guish this art from that of those who are obliged to confine themselves to reality. But poetical fic- tions cannot be agreeable unless they are natural. For to the laws and appearances of nature we are so much accustomed, that we cannot relish any thing which apparently contradicts them. What we call unnatural we always in a certain degree
842 ELEMENTS OP PART IV.
dislike. Now, in order to have the quality ex- pressed by the word 7iatural, the fictions of poetry must be, first, conformable to the general experi- ence of mankind, or, at least, not contrary to it ; or, secondly, conformable to the opinions enter- tained concerning nature' by the persons to whom they are addressed ; or, thirdly, consistent with themselves at least, and connected with probable circumstances. In short, fiction, in order to give pleasure, must be probable, or plausible, or some- thing which, if it is not true, is so like the truth as not to seem unnatural to those for whom it was invented. We are, indeed, easily reconciled to any fable (provided it be consistent with itself), in which the appearances of the universe, as per- ceived by our senses, and the operations of the human mind, as suggested by reflection, are natur- ally represented. For thesS- are things which every person is more or less acquainted with ; and concerning which, mankind have in all ages been nearly of the same opinion.
964. Different nations have differed in religion ; and in their notions of those invisible beings, whom they supposed to have influence in conducting hu- man afiairs. The Greeks and Romans believed in, or at least worshipped, Apollo, Jupiter, and other idols ; and in latter times, when Europe was more ignorant than it is now, many Christians be- lieved in magic, enchantment, witches, fairies, ghosts, &c. All these things are now disbelieved
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. S4S
by people of sense. And, therefore, if a poem were now to be written, in which these imaginary beings appeared as agents, we might be diverted with it, or laugh at it j but our heart and affections could not be seriously interested. In Homer's fable, however, and in Virgil's, we are interested, not- withstanding that heathen gods are introduced ; because we make allowance for the opinions of the people for whose amusement Homer and Virgil wrote, and we are willing from time to time to suppose ourselves in their situation, and to have the same views of nature which they had. In the same way we make allowance for similar fables in other ancient poets. Yet it must be owned, that we are seldom or never interested in those parts of a fable which directly contradict our own opi- nions. We are not, for example, interested in the squabbles of Homer's gods ; though we may be in those adventures of the Greek and Trojan he- roes which ar^ represented as the consequences of what passed in the palace of Jupiter ; because in the joys and sorrows of our fellow-men, in what- ever way brought about, we must always partici- pate, when they are naturally described. Tele- maqiiCy notwithstanding the beauty of the senti- ments, is not an interesting tale j the language and style will not permit us for a moment to suppose it ancient ; and we cannot think a Christian arch- bishop in earnest, when he tells us that Minerva, in the shape of an old man, accompanied his hero.
S44 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
965. The action of Paradise Lost (by the action of an epic poem is meant the series of events re- lated in it) is supposed to have happened at the be- ginning of the world ; when we have reason io believe that good angels might have been employed in conducting certain events, and that evil spirits exerted themselves too successfully in corrupting our first parents. That part, therefore, of Mil- ton's machinery, in which angels are concerned, has still sufficient probability to interest us ; and among Christians will always have it. By the •word machinery is here understood the use that a poet makes of superior beings and supernatural events. But Milton has transgressed the rules both of probability and of possibility, and that in a very blameable degree, when to the Supreme Being he ascribes long imaginary speeches full of theological controversy.
966. History and philosophy represent nature as it is. But we may imagine a state of things, not better upon the whole, for all the works of God are good, but more amusing to the human mind, than what we see in the world around us. "We may imagine a finer landscape, and a more magnificent town or palace, than any we ever be- held ; and a heaven more beautifully adorned with stars, than that glorious firmament which is over our heads. The best man we ever knew is not so good as we may imagine a man to be, or as a man ought to be. Now, as theeud of poetry is to
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 345
please, and as that poetry is best which pleases most, it seems to follow, that poetical descriptions are to be framed, not so much after those appear- ances of nature which really exist, as according to that general idea of excellence, which it is possible for the human mind to conceive within the limits of probability. — To take an example from a kin- dred art. If a painter were to draw such a human figure as every body would acknowledge to be completely beautiful, he would not copy any one individual person ; because there are few or no in- dividual figures so beautiful as to have no blemish ; and because any one, though admired by some, might not be equally admired by all. But he would, after observing a number of beautiful figures, and comparing them with one another, collect a general idea of beauty, more perfect per- haps than could be seen in any one person ; and this general idea he would express in his picture. And Pliny tells us, that an ancient painter made a famous picture of Helen in this very way. The example may serve to illustrate the nature of sub- lime and elegant invention, both in painting and in poetry.
967. It appears then that poetry, in order to be completely agreeable, must be, not what history is, a representation of real nature, but rather an imi- tation of nature in that state of perfection in which we may suppose nature to be. (§ 189). And this is the idea of poetry, which is given by Aristotle in
84G ELEMENTS OF PART IV,
liis Poetics, and by Bacon in his Treatise of the Advancement of Learning. — But it must be observ- ed, first, that we are here speaking of what is called the higher poetry, that is, of the epic poem and tragedy : for in explaining the essential rules of an art, we must always allude to that art in its most perfect state. In the lower sorts of poetry nature may be exhibited as it is, and clowns, for example, introduced speaking clownishly, and act- ing accordingly. And in farces, and other poems intended to raise laughter, nature may be exhibited in a state of degradation, that is, more imperfect than it really is. The higher poetry is analogous to historical (it should rather be called poetical) painting; the lower, to portrait painting; and farce, to car/crt/wre.^— -Observe, secondly, that when, in speaking of the higher poetry, we call it an imitation of nature improved, we do not mean, that nothing is to appear there but what is beauti- ful and morally excellent. For, in an epic poem, a person may be introduced, of a worse moral character, perhaps, than ever appeared on earth j and scenes of horror may be described, more dreadful than ever were beheld by mortal eyes. Satan and hell, as we find them in Paradise Lost, are examples of this. While we speak of nature being improved in poetry, we mean \\ii\t more than that the appearances of things are exaggerated Avith respect to both good and evil, so as most (effectually to gratify and improve the reader.
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 847
068. One of the most important and most dif^ ficult parts of poetical 'fiction is, to invent and support a variety of characters ; that is, to intro- duce in the story, or in the play, a number of per- sons of ditl'erent tempers and talents, speaking and acting, each according to his or her character, and within the bounds of probability. Of the ditficulty of this sort of invention, Horace is so sensible that he rather dissuades it, and advises that characters in the drama be taken from the ancient poets, or from tradition. And, indeed, though many have made the attempt. Homer, Shakespeare, and Mil- ton, are almost the only poets who have succeed- ed in the invention of such characters as are at once natural, adapted to the strain of the compo- sition, and different from all that had appeared before.
969. To make every poetical character wise and virtuous is not necessary, and would be improper. For, first, this would not be like nature ; as all men have their frailties both moral and intellectual. Secondly ; it would be easy for us to foresee what part a good man would act in any given circum- stances ; so that his actions would produce no sur- prise : and the reader's surprise, as it imparts viva- city to every emotion connected with it, is much nought after by the writers of fiction, who, with this view, give such a turn to their fable as makes one expect events different from those which they intend to bring about. Thirdly j we receive plea-
S48 ELEMENTS OF PART IV*'
Tsure and instruction, not only by contemplating the beauty and rewards of virtue, but also by observ- ing the deformity and bad consequences of vigc ; and therefore in a poetical fable, good men should be exhibited as a pattern to us, and ill men as a t^'arning. Fourthly ; distress is necessary in fable to draw forth our pity; this being a good and salu- tar}-^ atfection, and attended, as formerly observed, with a very peculiar sort of pleasure. But distress, except when it arises from some degree of vice or imprudence, pains us too exquisitely even infaWe ; and therefore some of the characters in a poem must be to a certain degree vicious or imprudent, in order to bring about, by probable means, such events as, by drawing forth our pity, may both please and improve us. The most beautiful and most instructive incidents in Homer and Virgil are those which arise from vice and imprudence. The Trojan war, and all the adventures it occasioned, were owing to the wickedness of two persons, and the folly of some others; the most pathetic episode in Virgil, the despair and death of Dido, is also the effect of imprudence and guilt ; another tale in the same poet, inimitably tender and interesting, the story of Misus and Euryalus, has, in consequence of youthful temerity, a fatal termination ; and Milton's divine poem would not have been either so affect- ing or so instructive, if it had not described the fall of man, as well as the state of innocence.
970. No ancient poet has displayed so great a
CHAP. I. § V. iMpRAL SCIENCE. 349
variety of natural cliaracters as Homer. In his per- sons, not two of whom are alike, good and evil, prudence and ir.i prudence, and different talents and passions, are blended, as we find them in real life. Courage is a prevailing character among his heroes, but not two of them have the same sort of courage. In one it is united with rashness, in ano- ther witli prudence, in a third with modesty, in a fourth with ostentation ; one is brave and merci- ful, another brave and cruel ; one is brave from principle, another from insensibility to danger, or from confidence in his massy arms ; one is brave in the defence of his country, another in order to' gratify himself. Ahnost every species of heroism may be found in Homer. His good characters have for the most part some weakness in them ; and none of his bad ones are totally destitute of good qualities ; which generally happens to be the case in life. Nor is it heroism only that the poet diversifies. Nestor and Ulysses are both wise, and both eloquent ; but the wisdom of the former is the effect of experience ; that of the latter, of genius ; the eloquence of the one is copious, and, like that of old men, not always to the purpose, and apt to degenerate into story-telling ; that of the other is close and emphatical, and accompanied with a peculiar modesty and simplicity of manner, bordering on aukwardness. His female person- ages the poet varies with equal skill : Helen, An- dromache, Penelope, are all interesting and ami-
S5Q ELEMENTS OP PART IV,
able ; but they are quite difterent. Andromache is amiable, as an affectionate wife and mother ; Pene- lope,'as a prudent matron, of unshaken fidehty; and Helen, as an accomplished and beautiful wo- man, guilty of one enormous trespass, but candid, grateful, and submissive. Homer's superannuated heroes are well and naturally distinguished : how unlike is Kestor to Priam ! how different Laertes from both ! In the celestial, I should rather say Olympian, personages, Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, Juno, Minerva, Venus, the attentive readers of this wonderful poet are entertained with varieties of character not less remarkable.
971. All those persons in whose fortune the writer of fable wishes his readers to be deeply in- terested, must have agreeable qualities to recom- mend them in some degree to our regard : for who could bear to read the adventures of a person completely worthless ! But agreeable qualities should never be given to a fabulous character in such abundance as to make us entertain any par- tiality for vice ; a fault, however, which in mo- dern plays and novels is very common. Writers of genius, who have that love of virtue which ge- nerous minds always have had and will have, know how to give in this respect the proper direction to our passions, and without any confusion of right and wi'ong, to make the same person raise within us very different emotions, pity and hatred per- haps, admiration and horror. The Achilles of
©HAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 351
Homer, for example, we admire, we esteem, we hate, and we pity. We admire his great qualities, his generosity, his valour, his superiority to the fear of death : we esteem his good quahties, the warmth of his friendship, his affection to his pa- rents, his love of truth, his hatred of tyranny, his attention to the duties of hospitahty, his gentle and compassionate behaviour to his enemy Priam : we hate him for his crueity, obstinacy, and violent temper: and we pity him on account of that cir- cumstance in his poetical destiny, which makes him foresee that he must be cut off in the flower of his youth.
972. Neither in the arrangement of his fable, nor in the variety of his characters, has A^irgil at- tempted to rival Homer ; having been sensible no doubt of his inferiority in these two branches of the art ; though in some others he is equal to his great master, and in some events superior. His characters indeed are very few. Dido, however, Turnus, Mezentius, Evander, and one or two more, are well drawn, and skilfully distinguished. Milton's plan did not admit many characters ; but most of those whom he has introduced are form- ed and discriminated with consummate propriety. Satan is astonishingly superior to all the other fiends ; among whom there are different forms of impiety and malevolence, notwithstanding that all are malevolent and impious. Of the blessed spi- rits, Raphael is characterised by affability, and pe-
352 ELEMENTS OF PART IV,
culiar good-will to tlie human- race ; Michael by majesty, but such as commands veneration, rather than fear ; Abdiel is distinct from both. It re- quired great judgment to vary, with so much probability and nature (if I may so speak), the characters of three angelic beings, who in good- ness and greatness are almost equal. * Adam and ' Eve, in the state of innocence,* as I have in ano- ther place observed, ' are characters well imagin-
* ed, and well supported ; and the different senti-
* ments, arising from difference of sex, are traced
* out with inimitable delicacy, and philosophical
* tnith. After the fall the poet makes them re-
* tain the same characters, without any other
* change, than what the transition from innocence
* to guilt might be supposed to produce : Adam
* has still that pre-eminence in dignity, and Eve
* in loveliness, which we should naturally look for ' in the father and mother of mankind.' Sam- son in Milton's Agonistes is a species of the heroic character, not to be found in Homer, distinctly marked, and admirably supported : and Delilah, in the same tragedy, is as perfect a model of an alluring worthless woman as any other to be met with in poetry.
973. But the only poet, modern or ancient, who in the variety of his characters can vie with Homer, is our great English dramatist ; of whom the elegant and judicious Lord Lyttleton boldly, 'but with no blameable exaggeration, affirms, that
CHAP. I. § V, MORAL SCIE^^CE. 353"
if all luiman things were to perish except the works of Shakespeare, it might still be known from them what man was. He has greater variety in this and in other respects, than Homer could liave ; for Homer was confined to heroic manners, and the uniform dignity of the epic muse ; where- as the more ductile nature of the drama permitted the English poet to indulge himself, without re- straint, in comedy and farce, as well as in tragedy. In exhibiting different forms of heroism, he shews not the ability or the art of Homer ; but he shews very great ability : Hotspur, Henry prince of AVales, Macbeth, and Othello, are heroes, totally unlike one another, and each so natural, and so well distinguished, that we think we know him as thoroughly as if he had been our intimate ac- quaintance. What diversities of comic humour appear in the same Henry, in FalstafF, Benedick, Mercutio ! of feminine loveliness, in Miranda, Juliet, Desdemona, Rosalind, Ophelia ! of laugh- able absurdity, in Dogberry, Juliet's nurse, the Host of the Garter, Sir Hugh Evans, Mrs Quickly, Shal- low, Slender ! &c. — But it would require volumes, and the labour of years, to give a just analysis of the characters of Shakespeare.
974. There is a considerable difference between the historical and poetical arrangement of events ; the aim of the former being to adhere to truth and chronology ; that of the latter, to produce sur- prise and other pleasurable emotions. In history
VOL, 11. z.
954 ELEMENTS OF PART IV
some events are recorded, merely because they are true, though their causes be unknown, and their con- sequences unimportant. But of all poetical events, the causes should be manifest, for the sake of proba- bility, and the consequences important, that the rea- der may be interested. A history may be as long as 5'ou please ; for, while instructive and true, it is still a good history. But a poem must not be very long : \a because it is addressed to the passions, which can- not long be kept in violent exercise : because, in order to be suitably affected with the poet's art, one must have a distinct remembrance of the whole fable ; which could not be, if it were very long ; because poetical composition is difficult, and be- cause events in poetry, that they may have the proper effect upon the imagination and passions, ought to be described with some degree of minute- ness ; so that a poem, if it were to comprehend many events, would shoot out into an immoderate length. 975. The poet, therefore, commonly fixes on some one great event, as the subject of his work, to the bringing about of which, every material part of the action ought to contribute. Thus, in the Iliad, every thing relates to the wrath of Achilles ; which in the first words of the poem is proposed as the subject, and which every part of the fable tends to display, in its rise, progress, and conse- quences : and when that wrath is extinguished, the poem is at an end. Some critics have thought, that, as the anger of Achilles ended with the life
CHAP. I. 5 V. MORAL SCIENCE. 333
of Hector, who is killed in the twenty-second book, the poem ought to have concluded with that book ; and that the following events, being unnecessary, violate the unity of the fable. But the anger of Achilles was not extinguished by the death of Hector : he had vowed to treat the dead body with indignity, and continued to do so, till Priam pre- vailed on him to allow it the honours of sepulture. Hector's funeral, therefore, being the proof and consequence of the extinction of the hero's anger, is very properly made the concluding event. The subject of the ^Eneid is the establishment of the Trojans in Italy : to this the poem continually tends : and when this is effected by the death of Turnus, the only remaining person who opposed that establishment, the poem naturally concludes. 976. It was hinted that every material part of a poetical fable tends to bring about or illustrate that event which forms the subject of it. Digressions however may be introduced so as to have a very pleasing effect ; and though they have little con- uection with the subject, never fail to be applaud- ed, if they be eminently beautiful in themselves. Digressions of this sort in an epic poem are called episodes. The most beautiful in the ^neid are the despair and death of Dido, in the fourth book ; the account of Elysium, Tartarus, and the Lugentes campi, in the sixth 5 the death of Cacus in the eighth, and the story of Nisus and Euryalus in the jiinth. The finest in ihe Iliad are the parting of
S.56 ELEMENTS OE PART IV,
Hector and Andromache, and the description of tlie shield of Achilles. In the Georsric are some digressions of transcendent beauty : the prodigies that attended the death of Julius Caesar, in the first book ; the praises of a country life, in the second ; the plague among the beasts, in the third ; and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, in the fourth. But nothing of the kind is finer than the apostrophe to light in the beginning of the third book of Para- dise Lost.
977. The historian takes up his narrative at the beginning j but the poet begins in -the middle of the subject, or rather as near the end as possible. Though the Iliad contains the mosT tmportanrpar- ticulars of the war of Troy, the action of the poem opens in the ninth year of the war, and lasts little more than forty days ; and we are informed occa- sionally of the previous events by the conversa- tion of the persons who bear a part in the ac- tion. The JEueid contains the affairs of seven years ; but the first thing related in it is the de- parture of the Trojan fleet from Sicily, which hap- pened but a few months before the death of Tur- nus : and the previous part of the story we learn from a narrative which the poet puts in the mouth of ^neas, v/ho at the request of Dido relates his adventures. This contrivance, of beginning in the middle of the subject, has in poetry several advan- tages. By giving compactness to the fable, it makes it be easily remembered j and, by putting it in the
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 357
poet's power to begin the action as lie pleases, it enables him to rouse the reader's attention and cu- riosity, by setting before him, in the commence- ment of the work (which m history is generally languid), some great event, or interesting combina- tion of imaii^es. It is also agreeable to the order in which most things strike our senses. For it rarely hapjiens, that we see the whole of any great event from beginning to end. Such things are most apt to draw our attention some time after they are begun ; and what went before, we learn from other people, or perhaps make out for ourselves^ from the conversation of the persons engaged in the action. This poetical arrangement of events is followed not in epic poems only, but also in re- gular tragedies and comedies, and sometimes in romances and narrative ballads. Fielding's Amelia, and Goldsmith's Hermit, are conducted according to this plan.
978. Of the language of poetry. As poetical fiction imitates improved nature Q 967), so poeti- cal language is an imitation of natural language, improved to that degree of perfection, whereof, in a consistency with probability, we may suppose it capable. Natural language and good language are not always the same. Language is good, v. hen it is according to rule ; it is natural, when suitable to the condition, circumstances, and character of the speaker. In history, the historian is sup- posed to speak from beginning to end. Now the
068
ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
iiistorian assumes the character of a person who is capable of instructing mankind, and must therefore we supposed capable of telling his story agreeably and with elegance. His style, therefore, in order to be natural, that is, suited to his supposed condi- tion and character, must be uniformly elegant, even although he should have occasion to record the sentiments and speeches of illiterate persons ; ^vhich is no more than w^e should expect from a good speaker recapitulating, in any solemn assem- bly, the speech of a clown.
979. In the epic poem, the poet, or his muse, is supposed to speak from beginning to end. As he lays claim to inspiration, and unfolds even the ^4 thoughts of men, and the transactions of superior beings, his language, adapted to this his supposed character, must be elevated, far above that of his- tory, into the highest elegance possible. And in this he must uniformly persist, even when he re- lates the sentiments and sayings of persons from "whom, if they themselves were to speak, we should expect no elegance at all. — In tragedy and comedy the poet never appears ; the several persons being themselves introduced, speaking and acting suit- ably to their respective characters and circum- stances. It is natural, however, that the language of tragedy should be more elevated than that of comedy. For in the former the persons are sup- posed to be in the higher ranks of life, and em- ployed in aifairs of importance j whereas in co-
A
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 859
medy they are for tlie most part taken from the middle and lower ranks, and employed in business of a more trivial nature. — In the lower sorts of co- medy, which are called farce, nature, as I already observed, is represented as rather degraded than elevated, the author's chief purpose being to raise laughter ; and therefore clowns are introduced speaking clownishly, and foreigners speaking im- perfectly in a barbarous dialect ; and, in general, whatever is ridiculous in life is made more ridicu- lous than it is in reality. There is, for the most part, a great deal of farce in comedy. Critics may mark the difference between them, but poets seldom mind it. Terence indeed writes pure co- medy, as Menander probably did ; there is a great proportion of farce in Plautus, and in Aristophanes hardly any thing else.
980. Poetical language is * natural language im- proved as far as may be consistent with probabili- ty.' Natural language is improved in poetry, first, by the use of poetical words ; secondly, by tropes and figures ; and, thirdly, by versification. In most cultivated tongues, perhaps in all, there are words and phrases, which, because they often oc- cur in poetry, and seldom or never in prose, are termed poetical. Many of these were once in common use, but are now little used, and, except in poetry, are obsolete. Such in English are the words trump for trumpet, helm for helmet, morn for morning, lore for learning, rue for regret, &c.
SQO ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
Some poetical words are common words lengthen- ed, and some are common words shortened, for the convenience of the versifier ; as affright for fright, disjyarf for part, d'lsiain for stain, eve and even for evening, illume for illuminate, he. The Latin poets, in a similar way, and for the same reason, shortened fundamentum^ tutamcntumi mu- nimentnm, kc. into Jundrnnen, tulcwie/i, miinnnen. Many of our poetical words, which cannot be call- ed either obsolete or old, are borrowed from other languages, as philomel, radiant^ refidgent, redo» lent, verdant, zejihijr, kc. For more particulars on this subject, see an Essay on Poetry and Music as they affect the mind, part ii.
981. The poetical dialect of the Greeks is pro- bably that form of the language which was in com- mon use in the days of the first Greek poets, He- siod and Homer ; or perhaps in the time of those who lived a century earlier, and whose style it is probable that Homer imitated, as Orpheus, Linus, Amphion, and Museus, of whose works nothing uow remains. This style in after times was gra- dually discontinued in common life, and used by those writers only who imitated the ancient poets. Such changes happen in all cultivated languages. The English now written is in many respects dif- ferent from what Spenser wrote two hundred years ago ; and the difference is still more re- markable between Spenser's language and that Qf Chaucer, who was two hundred years before
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 261
him. The advantages arising from the use of poetical words are these two. First, they make the language of poetry more musical ; most of them being agreeable in the sound, and easily put in verse. And, secondly, they make it more so- lemn : for those words which we never meet with but in very elegant writing, do as naturally acquire dignity and elegance, as other words become vul- gar, by being used on vulgar occasions. Such is the effect of association.
982. In what respects tropes and figures are or- namental to language, we have seen formerly : 1 therefore proceed to make some remarks on versi- fication. Poetry, being intended to give pleasure, must be agreeable in the sound, as well as in every thing else. Harmony in prose is ornamental ; in verse, necessary. It has been much debated among critics, whether verse or regular measure be essential to the poet's art. Without recapitu- lating what has been said i)y others, I shall give what I take to be the truth ; that ' to poetry verse
* is not essential, but is necessary to the perfection
* of all poetry that admits of it.* It is to this art what colours are to painting. A painter might draw beautiful and exact figures by means of one colour : and some sorts of drawing admit no more ; but pictures are not i^erfect, unless there be in them as many colours as are seen in the ori- ginals. So a poem may be in prose ; but, in or- der to be perfect, most kinds of poetry must bg
362 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
in verse.— Let it be observed here, that in prose the measures of verse are extremely improper. Such composition looks like neither prose nor verse ; one might call it, in the words of a witty author, prose run mad. It resembles the gait of a man who walks sometimes naturally, and every now and then in a minuet step. Always to avoid poetical measure in prose is not easy ; nor is it worth while to be continually on our guard against it ; but in general it ought to be avoided, as it very judiciously is, by our translators, in the poetical, as well as in the other parts of Scripture. In some pretended translations of ancient poems, it is affected as a beauty, and no doubt has its ad- mirers ; but it will not gratify an ear that has been long accustomed to the best ancient and modern authors.
983. In comedy, which imitates the language of conversation, verse would seem to be unnatural, and consequently improper. Yet the Greeks, tlie Komans, and the French, have comedies in verse ; which must be allowed where it is the fashion, but would not now suit the English taste ; unless it were verse so carelessly modulated, that the mea- tiUre could appear to the eye only, and not to the ear. Fielding's Amelia is an epic poem of the co. mic species, and would be spoiled if it were turn- ed into verse : Telemachus is a sort of serious epic poem, and would not be improved by being versi- iicd. To the lower kinds of poetry, such as pas-
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 365
torals, songs, epigrams, and the like, verse seems to be essential, because they have little else to dis- tinguish them from prose. Very sublime poetry, especially if very ancient, has sometimes a better effect in a literal prose translation, than it would Jiave in verse ; because the ornaments essential to the modern poetic measures would be hurtful to its simplicity. Every attempt to versify the book of Job, the Psalms, and the other poetical parts of Scripture, takes away from the beauty and the grandeur of those sacred compositions.
984. The principles of versification are in dif- ferent languages different. In Greek and Latin, the measure of verse depends on the qiiantitij of the syllables ; that is, on their being long or short. With us it may depend on the same thing, but does not so always, or essentially. The following line consists of a short and long syllable five times repeated :
Despair, remorse, revenge, torment tho soul.
But this other line, though of the same sort of verse, consists of nine short syllables and a long one :
The busy bodies flutter, tattle still.
In fact, English versification dependson the alternate succession of emphatic and non-emphatic syllables. And though the emphatic syllable is often long, it is not always so. In the word despair, the last syllabic is emphatic and long ; in body, the first is emphatic and short.
985. In most languages the measure of verstt
S64 ELEMENTS OP PART 1V4
depends on a certain proportion which one verse bears to another, in respect either of the time, or of something else that affects the pronunciation. That jjroportioji should be agreeable, is not sur- prising, and has formerly been accounted for. It suggests the agreeable idea of skill and contriv- ance : and when we have heard a few verses, we expect the same measures to return ; and this ex- pectation, and the gratification that follows it, give a pleasing exercise to the mind. In the same manner we might account for the pleasure derived from the rhymes of modern verse. The Greeks and Romans supposed a line of poetry to consist of a certain number of parts, which the Latin gramma- rian caWs Jeet. A foot consists of two syllables at least, and no more at most than three or four. A foot made up of two long syllables was called spoTi- ileus ; of a long and short, trocheus ; of a short and long, iambus ; of a long and two short, dac- tylus or finger ; of two short and a long, anapeS' tus ; and of two short syllables, pyrrichius.
986. In order to understand the measures of English verse, it is sufficient that we fix in our mind a distinct notion of the trocheus, iambus, and anapestus; for in our language the spondeus is not frequent ; and those measures are also uncom- mon, in which the dactyle predominates ; the more usual measures of our verse being reducible to three, iambic, trochaic, and anapestic. Adapt- ing ancient terms to English prosody, we may call
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 365
an emphatic and non. emphatic syllable, forming one foot, a trocheus, as gentle, purple^ i>ody ; a non-emphatic syllable followed by an emphatic one, an iambus, as revenge, depart, atteiid ; two non-emphatic syllables succeeded, in the same foot, by an emphatic syllable, an anapestus, as w?z- dertake, understand, entertain ; and an emphatic syllable followed in the same foot, by two non-em- phatic ones, a dactyl, as thimderer, multitude, pro- ^fligate. Of all poetical measures the iambic is the most natural ; for, as Aristotle observes, we often fall into it in ordinary discourse. Trochaic and anapestic measures are more artificial.
987. Of English iambics there are five or six species (I divide them into species according to their different lengths), whereof these that follow are the most common.
I. The good alone are great. II. Thtfhand that made us is divine.
III. I live in ho|)e that all will yet be well.
IV. For thou art hut of dust, be humble and be wise.
V. The Lord descended from above, and bow'd the heavens high.
Observe, that the second of these lines is the same measure with the iambic dimeter of the ancients, whereof you will fmd examples in the Latin proso- dy, as, jJLternitatis janua ; the third is the English heroic verse ; the fourth, which is called alexan- drine, for what reason I know not, corresponds in measure with the iambic trimeter of the ancients, of which the following: line of Horace, when rishtlv pronounced, is an example j
Beatus il!c qui prociil nejotiis :
366 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
and the fifth is now for the most part broken into two lines, the one containing four feet and the other three.
988. Of Enghsh trochaics there are four or five species; whereof these two are the most common. In each of them, an emphatic and non-emphatic syllable are disposed alternately, so that this mea- sure is the reverse of the former :
I. Come and trip it as re jfo On the iis^lit fantastic toe. 11. O'er the dreary waste they wander.
This second verse, with the former subjoined to If, juakes the measure of an excellent English ballad, known by the name of Hosier's Ghost, which be- gins thus :
As near Portobello lying. On the gently swelling llood.
At midnight, with streamers flying, Qui* triumphant navy rode.
Examples of the same measure may be found In the Greek tragedies; and we have it in a Latin poem called Pervigilium Veneris^ commonly as- cribed to Catullus :
Ver novum, ver jam canorum, Vere natus orbis est.
Of anapestic verse, there are in English four or five sorts ; the two following are the most com- mon :
I. With her inein she enamours the brave. II. If 1 live to grow old, as 1 find I go down.
In both sorts the first foot is often, indeed, ge- nerally, an iambus :
1. Despairing beside a clear stream. II. The biicht and the balmv effulgence of morn.
tJHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCEr 367
989. It is not the measure merely of verses that deserves attention ; poets have studied to vary the sound, and the motion of their numbers, accord- ing to the subject : which has produced what the critics call imitative harmony. But such imitation neither is, nor can be, nor ought to be exact : it is enough, if there be a remote resemblance be- tween the sound and the sense, and if the versifi- cation vary as the subject varies. Articulate sounds may imitate other sounds ; and the slow- ness or rapidity of poetical rhythm may imitate other slow or quick motions. On this principle, harmonious poets may imitate sounds that are sweet with dignity, — sweet and tender, — loud, — - and harsh ; and motions, that are — slow in conse- quence of difficulty, — slow in consequence of dignity, — swift and noisy, — swift and smooth, — uneven and abrupt,— quick and joyous. An unexpected pause in the verse may also imitate a sudden failure of strength, or interruption of motion ; or give vivacity to an image or thought, by fixing the attention longer than usual upon it. See examples of all these, and of other things re- lating to this subject, in Theory of Language, part i. chap. 4 ; and in an Essay on Poetry and Music as they affect the Mind, part ii. chap. ^. There are poets who have very little of this imitative har- mony, and not much variety in their numbers; as Ovid, Waller, Lansdovvne, Roscommon, &c. But the great poets, especially tlie epic, lyric, and
368 -ELEMENTS OF PART IV,'
didactic, have much of it; and, with respect to their degrees of excellence in it, those I am best acquainted with may be tlius arranged : Homer, Virgil, Milton, Tasso, Spenser, Gray, Dryden, Pope. Horace, in some of his odes, particularly Tijrrhena regum progenies, and, in some passages of his epistles, shews a very correct ear for poeti- cal harmony ; but the general tenor of his compo- sitions did not often admit of this beauty. Nor does tragedy often admit of imitative modulation. Yet some nobie examples of it might be quoted from Shakespeare.
990. I shall conclude this subject with an at- tempt to enumerate the genera and species of poe- try. The genera may perhaps be reduced to seven. ¥irst, Epic, or narrative; secondly, Dramatic, which is made in order to be acted, or in imitation of what is acted ; thirdly, Lyric, which is, or may be, ac- companied v. ith music ; fourthly. Elegiac ; fiftiily. Didactic; sixthly. Descriptive; and lastly, Epigram- matic. Each of these kinds may be subdivided into several species or sorts. A complete enumeration I do not pretend to give.
991. NmTative poetry comprehends, 1. The Re- gular Epic Poem of Homer, A'irgil, Milton, and Tasso ; the general nature of which may be pretty well understood from what has been said : 2. The iVIixed Epic poem ; such as the Fairy Queen of Spenser, and Ariosto's Orlando Furioso ; in which «rc less probability, less unity, and great extrava*
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 369
gance of invention. 3. The Historical Poem ; in which the events are generally true, and arranged in the historical order; as the Pharsalia of Lucan,the Punic warof"SiliusItalicus,and Addison's Campaign. 4. The Heroic Tale ; which is either wholly fabu- lous, or nearly so, has more unity and regularity than the former, and turns for the most part upon some one event. Such are many of the tales in Ovid's Metamorphoses ; and such are most of the serious pieces in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales ; par- ticularly Palamon and Arcite, which is very well modernised by Dryden. 5. The Didactic Epic j in which there is more philosophy than narrative. Such is Milton's Paradise Regained, an excellent and instructive poem, much less read than it ought to be. 6. Serious Romance ; of which enough has been said already. The Adventures of Telema- chus is of this species ; if it may not rather be called an epic poem in prose. 7. Comic Epic Poetry com- prehends the comic romance, and the comic narra- tive poem. Don Quixote, Amelia, Cecilia, are ex- amples of the one, and Hudibras of the other,
992. Dramatic Poetry comprehends many spe- cies. 1. The Ancient Greek Tragedy of Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides ; the plan of which is very well imitated in the Samson Agonistes of Milton, and the Caractacus of Mason. 2. The Modern Re- gular Tragedy of five acts, without the chorus, which to the former species is essential. Of this sort are the tragedies of Rowe, Racine, the Cato of Ad-
VOL. 11. 2 a
S70 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
dison, Congreve*s Mourning Bride, &c. 3. The Ancient Comedy of the Greeks, whereof nothing but Aristophanes remains ; which is grossly sati- rical, in many respects indecent, and in some abo- minable. This form of the drama has never, I think, been, and I hope will never be, attempted by the moderns. 4. The Ancient Satiric Drama, so called from the satyrs, which, together with lieroes and clowns, appeared in it as actors ; a sort of licentious farce, which Horace seems to have thought susceptible of reformation, and has pro- posed some very sensible rules * for reforming. Whether these were ever applied to practice is not known. Fortunately, every thing of this sort has perished, except the Cyclops of Euripides, which is a vile production. 5. The New Comedy, as it was called, of Menander and Terence, which has no chorus, and is written with great elegance and politeness. Plautus would belong to this class, if there were not too much farce in him and low hu- mour. 6. The Modern Regular Comedy of five acts, such as the Drummer by Addison, the Conscious Lovers by Steele, the Merry Wives of Windsor by Shakespeare, the Clandestine Marriage by Garrick and Colman. These are excellent comedies ; Shake- speare's Merry Wives is probably the best in the world. 7. The Farce : a kind of short comedy, sufficiently characterised already : we have num- bers of them, by Fielding, Garrick, Foote, Murphy, and others. . 8. The Historical Tragi- comedy j the
* Epist ad Pison, v. 220—50.
CHAP. I. § V. MORAI4 SCIENCE. S?!
nature of which is expressed in its name : such as Shakespeare's JuHus Cassar, Henry IV. Richard III. &c. Shakespeare is the only author who ex- cels in this sort of drama ; which in his time was called History : Ben Jonson attempted it without success. 9. Poetical Tragi-comedy ; whereof the best examples extant are Othello, Hamlet, jNIac- beth, and Lear, by the same great author. This species is generally founded in fiction, or very ob- scure tradition : the former, in the detail of the historical events, and delineation of the real cha- racters, departs not materially from historical truth. 10. The Ballad Opera ; a sort of comedy or farce, with songs or ballads in it; such as the Duenna, Love in a Village, the Padlock, 8:c. The first thing of this kind that appeared among us, was the Beggar's Opera ; one of the vilest pieces of low and profligate humour that ever was known, at least in modern times ; which has done more harm than any other dramatic exhibition since the age of Ari- stophanes ; and which could never have acquired popularity,if it had not been for the songs, and some other causes formerly specified. (§ 962). 11. The Serious Italian Opera ; which, as reformed by Me- tastasio, is a tragedy of three acts, with odes or songs interspersed, and which from beginning to end is accompanied with music. There is also a Comic Italian Opera ; — but I confine myself to those sorts of poetry with which we are best acquainted. 12. The Pastoral J such as the Idyls of Theocritus, the
3'72 ELEMENTS OF PART lY,
Eclogues of Virgil, the Pastorals of Pope and Phi- lips, and the Eclogues of Spenser ; all which I re- fer to the dramatic species, because they are com- monly in the form of either dialogue or soliloquy. Milion's Lycidas, and Mason's Monody on the death of Pope, are also of this species, though more ornamented in the style, and more allegori- cal in the manner. 13. The Dramatic Pastoral; a sort of comedy, or tragi-comedy, in verse, with songs or odes interspersed, and in which the per- sons are supposed to be shepherds, or people liv- ing in the country. The Pastor Fido of Guarini, and the Aminta of Tasso, are of this sort ; ele- gant in particular passages, but unnatural in the manners, and in the invention extravagant. Ram- say's Gentle Shepherd has more nature and pro- bability ; and would be a good poem in its way, if it were not debased by a barbarous dialect, and the worse than rustic coarseness of several pas- sages. 14. The Masque ; a sort of tragic poem *, which admits greater wildness of invention, and a style more highly ornamented, than would be al- lowed in a regular tragedy. Milton's Comus is the finest specimen extant. He seems in it to have copied the manner of Eschylus ; as in Samson Agonistes he imitates Sophocles. Alfred, by
* By a tragic poem is meant, not a poem that ends unhap- pily, but a drama in which the persons are of an elevated cha,- ractcr. See § 979.
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 378
Thomson and Mallet, is a masque of very consi- derable merit.
993. Of Lyric poetry also there are many sorts. 1. The Pindaric or Dithyrambic Ode ; which was originally accompanied with music and dancing, and admits of bolder figures, and requires a great- er variety of harmony, than any other composition. The odes of Pindar belong to this class. The best examples in our language, and better than any thing of Pindar now extant, are Dryden*s Alexan- der's Feast, and Gray's Odes on Poetry and the Death of the Welch Bards. The choral odes in the Greek tragedies, and in Mason's Elfrida and Carac- tacus, are of this species. 2. The Horatian Ode ; which has more simplicity than the former, and less wildness of invention and of harmony. Ho- race is the greatest writer in this way. The frag- ments of Sappho, though much more ancient than Horace : and Gray's Odes, on the Spring, on Ad- versity, and on Eton College, belong to the same class ; as well as many of the odes of Akenside j though this poet sometimes imitates Pindar. 3. The Anacreontic Ode, invented probably by Ana- creon, is still simpler than the Horatian j Ana- creon himself is the only author who excels in it : in attempting to imitate him, Ambrose Philips and some others have made themselves ridiculous. 4. The Descriptive Ode, which paints the beauties of nature. The two finest examples are the Allegro and Penseroso of Milton j which are exquisitely
S74 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
harmonious and beautiful. 5. The Song ; a short composition, accompanied with music, which does not so much tell a story, or present poetical images, as express some human passion, as joy, sorrow^ ]ove, &c. : there are multitudes of them in every language. 6. The Pastoral Ballad, nearly allied to the former, but which refers more particularly to the events and passions of rural life. Of this sort is Shenstone's Ballad in four parts, and Rowe*s * Despairing beside a clear stream.* Lastly, the Epic Ballad, which is narrative, and describes ac- tions or events, either warlike or domestic ; as Chevy Chace, Hardiknute, Hosier's Ghost, Edwin and Angelina, Percy's Friar of orders grey, &c. Some of these divisions, particularly the Song, would admit of several subdivisions.
994. Elegy may be divided into, — 1. The Mourn- ful Elegy, expressive of sorrow ; as Pope's Elegy on an unfortunate lady ; and Tickell's Elegiac epistle to the Earl of Warwick on the death of Addison.- — 2. The Moral Elegy, expressive of moral sentiments, with an air of dignity and melancholy. Of this species Gray's Elegy in a Church-yard is the best that ever was written.— 3. The Love Elegy. Ovid, Tibuilus, and Hammond, are great writers in this way ; elegant indeed in the style, but in the sentiments often unnatural and insipid. — 4. The Epistolary Elegy ; expressive of various matter in the form of a letter in verse, with a mixture of complaint and tenderness. Many of Ovid's epis-
CHAP. I. § Y. MORAL SCIENCE. 37J^
ties are of this class. Pope's Eloisa to Abelard is the finest in our langiiao:e, or perhaps in any lan- guage.— 5. Young's Complaint belongs to the elegiac genus, and must be considered as a species by itself; for I know of no other poem of the same nature. It has much sublimity and pathos, muck elegant description, and much devout and moral sentiment, delivered frequently with uncommon energy of expression. But the sublimity suffers no little debasement from the superabundance of the poet's wit : and the pathos is too long conti- nued, and often too apparently artificial, to produce the intended effect: I can easily believe those who have told me, from personal knowledge, that Young, while composing the Night Thoughts, was as cheerful as at other times, and not melancholy at all. The lines of the poem, considered sepa- rately, are agreeable in the sound, but follow one another with little art of composition ; and seem to correspond with Voltaire's notion of blank verse, which was, that it is nothing more than verse with- out rhyme. One cannot but wonder, that Young, who was an enthusiastic admirer of blank verse, should have attended so little to the structure of Milton's numbers. But it is impossible in few words to give the character of so extraordinary a poem as the Night Thoughts.
995. Didactic poetry is intended to give instruc- tion in philosophy, natural or moral, and derives its name from a Greek word signifying to teach;.
876 ELEMENTS OP PART IV.
1. The first species of it may be called the phi- losophical poem ; of which the following are ex- amples.— Hesiod's Works and Days, the subject whereof is rural affairs ; and from which, though Tude, Virgil has not disdained to borrow several passages, and to honour them with a place in the Georgic. Lucretius de rerum natura illustrates what has been called the Epicurean philosophy ; is elegant in the style ; and beautiful and harmonious in the descriptive parts ; but in the reasoning mere sophistry, and frequently nonsense. Lucretius was a great poet, and a master of the Roman language ; but the philosophy of Epicurus seems to have turn- ed his brain ; for, on this subject, he speaks like a child, though, on many others, like a man of sense. Such forms of disordered intellect are not so very uncommon as one would be apt to imagine. Vir- gil's Georgic treats of agriculture, trees, vines, cattle, and bees ; and is without doubt the most highly finished, and most beautiful poem in the world : every scholar should not only study it, but have it by heart. In the Art of Preserving Health, by Armstrong, there is much good poetry, and good sense j though there are also some unguarded expressions. See § 552. The Plea- sures of Imagination, by Akenside, is not deficient in elegance j but often obscure, and too full of words ; faults into which the poet was probably led by imitating Plato and Shaftesbury. Pope's Eissay on Man has many beautiful and sublime pas«
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE. 377
sages ; but is founded on an erroneous system, whereof Bolingbroke was the author, and which it appears that Pope did not distinctly understand. The first draught of it in prose, in Bolingbroke's hand writing, has been seen by persons now alive. Cyder, by John Philips, and the Fleece, by Dyer, are didactic poems of considerable name ; but these authors are more eminent for knowledge of their respective subjects, than for poetical ability. 996. 2. The second species of didactic poetry is the Comic Satire ; a miscellaneous sort of poem, (for this the word satura implies) which exhibits the follies of mankind in such a light as to make them ridiculous. Horace excels in it, and has been well imitated by Dryden, Pope, and Young, in several of their compositions, Persius also imitates Ho- race ; and there are a few good lines in him : but he is an affected, obscure, and harsh writer, hard- ly worth reading. 3. The third sort of didactic poetry is the Serious Satire ; which inveighs against the crimes of mankind ; and is accordingly more vehement and solemn than the other. Juvenal is the first writer of this class j and Pope, in some of his pieces, is hardly inferior. Dryden, as both a se- rious and a comic satirist, shews distinguished abi- lity in his Absalom and Ahitophel ; which is a poem of a mixed nature ; partly narrative, and partly, with a surprising felicity of allusion, alle- gorical. 4. The fourth sort is the Moral Epistle ; which treats of various topics of philosophy, criti-
S;*7S ELEMENTS OF PART IV*
cism, and common life. Horace is the greatest master in this way : his epistles to Augustus, and to the Pisos, are so excellent, both in language and in sentiment, that almost every line and phrase of them has, among true critics, become proverbial. Boileau and Pope have attempted the same mode of writing, and succeeded well. 5. The fifth species of didactic poetry is the Moral Apologue, or fable, intended to illustrate some one moral truth by a short allegorical tale. iEsop was famous in this sort of writing ; but he wrote in prose. Phe- drus, Gay, and Fontaine, have written fables in verse, with considerable applause. The style of Phedrus is elegant, but some of his fables are trifling, and his versification is incorrect.
997. Descriptive poetry is employed in describ- ing the appearances of external nature, and is to be found more or less in every good poem ; but didactic poetry, like Virgil's Georgic, stands most in need of it, to supply in some measure the want of narrative. Accordingly, in the Georgic, the pic- tures of nature are very frequent, and the finest and most interesting that can be imagined. Thom- son's poem on the seasons is uniformly descrip- tive, or nearly so, for which it has been blamed by some critics, who maintain, what is indeed true, that description, though highly ornamental in g, poem, ought not to form the essence of it. How- ever, this is a delightful work, and deserves to bestudied, especially by young people j for it draws
Chap. i. § v. moral science. S79
their attention to the beauties of nature, and abounds in sentiments of piety and benevolence. In some passages the style is a little verbose, and the versification somewhat harsh ; which, on ac- count of the great merit of the poem, ought to be excused ; but which young writers will do well not to imitate : Milton is our best model in blank verse. Thomson's Castle of Indolence has not these faults : in both style and versification it is excellent, and is indeed one of the most pleasing poems in our language. It is of a mixed charac- ter ; descriptive, narrative, allegorical, and moral. 998. The word epigram properly means in- scription. Inscriptions on public buildings and sepulchral monuments ought to be in plain and few words, without any attempts at wit or poetical embellishment ; and to contain nothing but what is true. In this view they seem to belong to history rather than poetry. Epitaphs in verse are seldom good : Pope wrote several, but they added nothing to his reputation. When one is bury- ing a beloved friend, or erecting a monument to his memory, one must be supposed to be taken up with thoughts very different from those that incline people to make verses*. Some of our epi- taphs are partly verse and partly prose, and somQ
* What mourner ever felt poetic fires !
Slow comes the verse that real woe inspires.
Grief unaffected suits but ill with art,
Or flowing numbers with a bleeding heaft. TiCKStj,.
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partly Latin and partly English. All this has the appearance of affectation, and is very different from the practice of the ancients, who greatly excelled us in the art of inscription, and were as studious of brevity and plainness, as we seem to be of quaintness and verbosity. The epigram, strictly so called, is a short copy of verses, writ- ten on some occasion not very important, and end- ing with an unexpected turn of wit. In most languages there are volumes of epigrams, 4)ut very few worth notice. The most volumnious epigram- matist of antiquity is Martial ; an author whom it would be a great hardship to be obliged to read from beginning to end. A few of his little poems are tolerable, multitudes are trifling, very many are bad, and some are infamously so. He says of them himself; Sunt bona, sunt qiicedam mediocria, sunt ?nala plura.
999. In this arrangement of the genera and species of poetry the poetical parts of Scripture are not comprehended. They are indeed of so peculiar and so elevated a character, that I can- not class them with human compositions. The book of Job is a sublime poem ; partly epic, as far as it relates facts ; partly dramatic, because persons are introduced in it speaking in their own characters ; partly moral and argumenta- tive ; and in some passages allegorical. The Psalms are odes of the lyric kind, and were from the first intended to be accompanied with vocal
CHAP. I. § V. MORAL SCIENCE.
381
and instrumental music. The Song of Solomon is dramatic and pastoral, and, in the judgment of many divines, allegorical. The prophets are generally poetical, and often sublime in the highest degree.
1000. There are many sorts of poetry whereof the end is to raise laughter j and which are of so various kinds, that it would be difficult, and perhaps not worth while, to reduce them into classes. There are mock epic poems, mock trage- dies, mock.pastorals,;and ridiculous epitaphs. Any serious writing may be turned into burlesque, or made ludicrous, by preserving the manner, or the phraseology ; and changing the matter, from im- portant and solemn, to frivolous and vulgar. Of mock-epic poems the best are, the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, erroneously ascribed to Homer ; the Dunciad, and Rape of the Lock, by Pope ; the Rape of the Bucket, by Tassoni ; the Lutrin, by Boileau ; and the Dispensary, by Garth. Field- ing's Tom Thumb is a mock-tragedy ; Gay's pas- torals are a burlesque on the eclogues of Virgil ; and his art of walking the streets of London is a ludicrous sort of didactic poem. Prior's Alma is ludicrous, didactic, playful, and replete with ex- quisite humour. Scarron has burlesqued the whole iEneid ; but I should think it impossible to read such a thing to an end. Things of this kind ought to be short ; otherwise they debase the taste, by perverting the imaginatioD.
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CHAPTER IL
Ft MARKS ON EVIDENCE.
1001. NoTWiNG now remains, but that I should make some remarks on the philosophy of evi- dence ; which is the last part of logic, according to ray mode of arrangement. I begin it with a brief account of the ancient logic ; which I hope will serve as an apology for my not treating this subject in the way the ancients did. Logic took its rise in Greece. The Athenians in their na- tional character differed much from the Lacedae- monians ; and in this particularly, that the latter were a grave and silent people ; whereas the former were very talkative, and fond of what we call clubs and conversations, in which they debated and de- claimed extempore on either side of controvertible topics. This practice gratified their natural loqua- city, and at the same time prepared them for speaking readily in the public assemblies ; which, in a republican state like theirs, was a profitable accomplishment ; or, at least, if it did not always eminent service to the state, made individuals be taken notice of, and put them in the way of rising to wealth and honour. The Athenian Sophists therefore made it their business to teach dialectic.
CHAP. n. MORAL SCIENCE. 38S
or the art of reasoning plausibly in defence of either truth or falsehood : an art which Socrates perceived to have so bad effects on the human un- derstanding, that he exerted himself to the utmost in confuting them, and bringing their profession into discredit ; which irritated them so much, that they became his mortal enemies, and by their in- fluence procured that sentence against him, which deprived the heathen world of its brightest orna- ment.
J 002. To the dialectic of the Sophists, Aristo- tle made a great addition by his logic, wherein he explained with singular acuteness all the varieties of syllogism or demonstrative proof. But this lo- gic, though ingenious in itself, did no good to liter- ature ; nay it did much harm. For its aim was, not so much to improve the judgment, or prepare it for investigation, as to qualify a man for dispute, and for expressing common things in an abstruse and uncommon way. Indeed, a considerable part of what he delivered as logical science, was little better than grammatical observations on some Greek words. It was, however, esteemed by his countrymen, because suitable to their disputatious temper ; but the Romans, in their better days, seem to have paid little regard to it, as it had no connection with life or manners, or with, what they much valued themselves upon, the arts of po- licy. His other works, I mean his Natural History, and his treatises on rhetoric, poetry, morality, and
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government, are very valuable, and prove him to have been a man of observation and uncommon ability. But his logical writings are such, that the ■world would ])robably have been not less wise than it is, if they had never existed.
1003. During the ages of ignorance that fol- lowed the downfal of the Roman empire, these writings, either in the original Greek, or more probably in some bad translation, were brought into the western parts of Europe ; where they at- tracted the attention of all who could read them j and did it the more easily, because at that time no body thought of studying nature, or of acquiring any learning, but that which enabled monks, and other recluse and ignorant men, to puzzle one another with verbal disputes. These works of Aristotle, translated into barbarous Latin, formed the ground- work of what has been called the philosophy of the schoolmen ; who never rightly understood Ari- stotle, and enlarged and disfigured his logic by endless and insignificant commentaries. The school- logic was taught in all universities before the refor- mation, and in not a few of them since. It was, indeed, almost the only thing that was then taught in some seminaries: and so eagerly was it run after, that Duns Scotus, a great teacher of it at Oxford, is said to have had at one time twenty thousand scholars. This is not probable ; and, if true, can be accounted for in no other way than by supposing, that in an ignorant age, the man
CHAP. II. MORAL SCIENCE. S85
who could dispute, or speak fluently, would be admired as a prodigy, and might acquire among the common people what influence he pleased. It is to be observed, too, that the school logic was found to be a good support to the Romish reli- gion, and was by the church of Rome patronised accordingly. For this logic, by confining men's minds within the narrow circle of its own rules, and making them more attentive to words than to things, and totally regardless of nature, checked all freedom of inquiry ; and, by promoting a habit of arguing against one's belief, as well as for it, had a tendency to prevent serious thinking, to harden the heart, to pervert the understanding, and to make men indifferent about the truth,
1004. After the invention of printing, however, some ingenious men began to study nature, and try what experiment and observation could do. Indeed before that era a great deal had been done in this way by Roger Bacon, who flourished in the thirteenth century, and is to be considered as the father of experimental philosophy ; but who met with more persecution than encouragement, being looked upon as a person who had intercourse with evil spirits, and dealt in unlawful arts. Soon after his time, some learned men took a fancy to distin^ guish themselves as the opponents of Aristotle, whose logical fetters had so long held in bondage the human understanding. But he who brought the schoolmen into utter discredit m this nation^
t-QL. 11. (2 B
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was Francis Bacon Lord Verulam ; who taught, that the business of the philosopher is, not to wrangle about words, but to interpret nature ; and that philosophy is nothing else than the knowledge of nature applied to practical and useful purposes. In his Novum Organum he explains the method of conducting philosophical inquiry : and in his great work on the Advancement of Learning, which, that it might be useful abroad as well as at home, he published both in English and in Latin, he gives a view of all the sciences, divides and subdivides them with the greatest accuracy, and shews what parts had been cultivated, and what neglected. And since his time, and by his method, every part of useful science has been improved to a degree that raises the astonishment of all who are ac- quainted with the history of literature.
1005. Reason, judgment, or understanding, by which we perceive the difference between truth and falsehood, is the gift of God : but all men have not this faculty in an equal measure : and in some it is perverted by inattention and prejudice, as in others it is much improved by regular and accu- rate study, and by habits of deliberate and candid investigation. Independently on the knowledge of logical Tules, all rational beings perceive the dif- ference between truth and falsehood by the native vigour of their faculties ; and where reason is na- turally weak, logic will not make it strong. The best logician is not more sensible of the truth or
CMAI*. 11.^ MOftAL SCIENCE. ^Sf
falsehood of propositions, than the man of good sense who never heard of logic ; and the latter may reason as fairly as the other, though perhaps not so fluently. Philosophical truth is discovered, not by dispute, but by meditation, and by observ- ing the energies of nature, as they appear in the suggestions of the human mind, and in the pheno- mena of the visible universe. The talent of speak- ing readily on either side of any question may be of use to lawyers, whose business it is to say for their clients every thing that can be plausibly said ; and to senators, who ought to discuss all political matters so accurately, as that the public may from their debates learn every thing material that may be urged on either side of any political question. But since philosophy has been reformed, this is not a necessary talent, either to the philosopher or to the generality of mankind. On the contrary, to defend doctrines which one does not believe, can hardly fail, as formerly observed, to have a bad effect upon the mind both of the speaker and of the hearer.
1006. Different sorts of truth are supported by different sorts of evidence. Were one to endea- vour to prove any truth by arguments unsuitable to^ that sort of truth, one would necessarily fall into error and false reasoning. If, for example, I were to attempt to prove, by the geometrical method, any truths in morality or in history, the attempt would be unsuccessful, and I should probably
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speak nonsense. Yet moral and historical truths may be proved by satisfactory evidence, though that evidence must be of a different nature from geometrical demonstration ; for that justice is praiseworthy, and that Charles I. was beheaded, we believe with as full assurance, as that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles. The human understanding may, therefore, be im- proved, and in its investigations directed by a phi- losophical account of the several sorts of evidence. Of this part of logic, which is both useful and cu- rious, some idea may be formed from the following brief observations.
]007. Truth is that which the constitution of rational nature determines rational beings to be- lieve : or it may be defined, the conformity of pro- positions with the nature of things. A definition of it is, indeed, unnecessary ; for every man knows what he means when he says of one affirmation, that it is true ; and of another, that it is not true. — Some truths are certain, others only probable. It is certain that we are alive just now ; it may be probable, but is not certain, that we shall be alive an hour hence. — Some truths, both of the certain and of the probable kind, are perceived intuitive- ly, that is, without investigation or proof. Thus, / exists the sun mil r^tse to-morrow, are intuitive truths J the first certain, the last in the highest de- gree probable. Neither of them can we prove by argument j but the certainty of the one, and the
CHAP. II. MORAL SCIENCE. 389
high probability of the other, strike us irresistibly the moment we hear the words pronounced. * If the man who sees me were to doubt of my exist- ence, it would be a sign of his want of understand- ing ; and if any body were to say, that he doubted whether the sun would rise to-morrow, we should account him whimsical at least. In this case it would be natural for us to ask, whether he knew of any cause that would hinder the sun*s rising? if he answered that he knew of none, and yet persisted in his doubt, we should think him a fool. Other truths are not self evident, but require a proof, and admit of it ; and it is essential to every proof, to be clearer or more evident than the thing to be proved. Thus, many of the propositions of Euclid, which at first hearing one might be inclined to doubt, or even to disbelieve, are shewn to be true by proof) argument, or reasoning : but the axioms of geometry, common notions, as Euclid calls them, xotvai hvoiai, are intuitive principles ; for they need no proof, and admit of none ; being in themselves so clear, that nothing can be more so.
1008. All the objects of the human understand- ing may be considered as either abstract notions of quantity and number, or thijigs really CMSting. Of the relations of those abstract notions all our know- ledge is certain, being founded on mathematical evidence. Of things really existing we judge either
* See an Essay on Truth, page 77, 4to. edition, Campbell oi^ Miracles, pages 13; 14, second edition.
390 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
from our own experience, or from the experience of other men. Judging of real existence from our own experience, we attain eitlier certainty or probability. Our knowledge of real things is certain, when sup- ported by the evidence of external sense, conscious- ness, and memory, and when from eftects we infer causes. Our knowledge of real things is probable, Avhen from facts whereof we have had experience we infer facts of the same or of similar kinds not experienced. Judging of real existence from the experience of other men, we have the evidence of their testimony. And thus it appears, that all sorts of evidence, productive of real knowledge, jnay be reduced to seven. 1. MatJiemaiical evidence. 2. The evidence of external sense. 3. The evidence f)f consciousness. 4. The evidence of rnemory. 5. That evidence which we have when from effects xve infer causes. 6. Probable evidence. 7. The evidence oftestimonij. In exhibiting the following remarks in a connected series, I foresee that I must repeat observations formerly made ; but I shall be as brief, and use as little repetition, as I conve- niently can.
1009. Of MATHEMATICAL cvidencc there are two sorts, intuitive and demonstrative. Every step in a mathematical proof must either be self-evident, or have been demonstrated formerly. Both intui- tion and demonstration produce absolute certainty without any mixture of doubt ; the contrary of ^lathematical truth being not only absurd, but in-
<?HAP. II. aiORAL SCIENCE. S91
conceivable. Yet the conviction arising from de- monstration does not strike the mind so forcibly, as that which attends intuition. For, first, though no doubt remains after demonstration, there may- have been doubt before it ; but in regard to intui- tive truth we never doubt at all. Secondly, the evi- dence of demonstration is complex, being made up of the evidence of intuition, memory, and former demonstrations; whereas, that of intuition is perfect- ly pure and simple. And, thirdly, there are persons ■who cannot comprehend long demonstrations ; but the force of intuitive evidence is felt by every ra- tional being who understands the words in which the axiom is expressed. One writer endeavours to shew, that mathematical demonstration is not to be depended on, because it rests partly on the evidence of memory, which he says often deceives us. But we never suppose our memory fallacious. We may doubt whether we remember a thing or not ; but if we are conscious that we distinctly remem- ber, we hold ourselves to be absolutely certain ; and absolute certainty admits not of degrees.
1010. There are two sorts of mathematical de- monstration. The one is called direct, and takes place when a conclusion is inferred from principles which render it necessarily true ; and this, though a more perfect, or more simple sort of proof, is not more convincing than the other ; which is called indirect, apagogical, or ducens ad ahsurdum, and which takes place, when, by supposing a giveu
392 ELEMENTS OP PAUT IV.
proposition false, we are necessarily led into absur- dity. Now that must be true which we cannot, without absurdity, suppose to be false. And there- fore both sorts of demonstration are equally good, being equally productive of absolute certainty.
1011. All mathematical proof is founded in axioms, or self evident principles, the contraries of which are inconceivable. And this sort of proof seems to be peculiartothesciencesthattreat of quan- tity and number ; and therefore in no other science is the mathematical method of proof to be expected. For in the other sciences, in most of them at least, truth and its contrary are equally conceivable. That Julius Caesar died a natural death may be as easily conceived, as that he was murdered in the senate-house. I feel a hard body, I do not feel a hard body, I see a white colour, I do not see a white colour, are all equally conceivable, and yet may be either true or false, according to circum- stances. We may conceive, that the sun, after setting to night, will never appear again, or that any particular man will never die : and yet we consider death as what must inevitably happen to every man, and the rising of the sun to-morrow as so certain that no rational being can doubt of it. Though, therefore, mathematical proof is to be found in the mathematical sciences only, satisfacto- ry proof may be found in any other science ; and is actually found in every part of knowledge that deserves the name of science.
CHAP. II. MORAL SCIENCE. S9S
1012. Geometry is partly an hypothetical science- Jt does not say, that there are in nature geometri- cal lines, angles, triangles, &c. but supposing them to be, it demonstrates that such and such must be their properties and mutual relations. Some have said that the axioms of geometry are capable of proof, and ought to be proved to those who desire it. Admitting this to be the case, and that some of tlie axioms may be resolved into others, and thus the number of them reduced (which I believe might without difficulty be done), yet, as reasoning cannot extend downwards in hifinitum, we must at last come to a fcvf first principles, or to one at least, which can neither require proof, nor admit of it. This is not peculiar to geometry. Every investigation takes its rise from some intuitive principle, either of certain, or of probable evidence. It is, however, peculiar to the first principles of geometry, that they are simpler, perhaps, than any other, and that in ewQry case their contraries are inconceivable. They who think, that all mathe- matical truth is ultimately resolvable into identical propositions (of which the subject is the same with the predicate), must suppose that all the axioms, and consequently all the science, may be resolved into whatever is, is ; or, it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be.
1013. The evidence of external sense pro- duces also absolute certainty, but in a different way. I formerly mentioned that unaccountable
394? ^ELEMENTS OF PART IV,
conceit, of some ancient and some modern philo- sophers, of the mind perceiving, not outward things themselves, but ideas of outward things ; which ideas were supposed to be in the same place with the mind, that is, somewhere in the inside of the human body, and therefore in a condition of being perceived by the mind ; which those phi- losophers imagined that outward things could not be, on account of their distance from the mind. But, notwithstanding the great names who have patronised this hypothesis, a considerate man, who is not a slave to authority, and is resolved to think for himself, cannot hesitate in rejecting it as unin- telligible. We perceive outward things them- selves ; houi we perceive them we cannot explain ; nor could the Platonist explain how the mind per- ceives, by means of sight, touch, hearing, taste, and smell, the ideas of outward things. When I say, ' I see the sun with my eyes,' I distinctly un- derstand each word ; but when a Platonist, a Car- tesian, or a disciple of Berkeley, says, * I perceive with my eyes the idea of the sun, which idea is either in my mind, or contiguous to it,* it is not possible for me to affix to these words any sense, of which I could give a rational account. — Exter- nal things we believe to be what our senses re- present them ; and we cannot beheve other- wise. That fire is hot, snow white, ice cold, and a stone hard ; that we have a head, body, %Vi6. limbs ; and that the other bodies we see
CHAP. II, MORAL SCIENCE. 395
around us exist, and are what we see them to be, we believe with the fullest assurance; and with as little doubt as we have when we say, that two and two are four. I do not mean, that these truths are of the same kind ; but I mean, that we believe both with equal assurance. We can prove neither by argument, for they are too clear to admit of proof; but the law of our nature makes it equally impossible for us to doubt of these truths, and of our own existence.
1014. Some modern philosophers, misled by the visionary theories of the ancients, thought that a great discovery was made, when they found out, that body has two sorts of qualities, primary and secondary. The primary qualities of body are magnitude, solidity, figure ; of which those philo- sophers allows that they belong to bodies at all times, whether those bodies are perceived or not, and are, in a word, essential to body. In this they are no doubt right ; for that a shilling locked up in a miser's chest, so as to be neither felt nor seen, must instantly lose its magnitude, solidity, and roundness, and regain them when the chest is .opened, it would be difficult to make the miser, or any body else, believe. The secondary qualities were said to be those which gave rise to certain feelings in us, when they are presented to our senses ; as the heat of fire, the coldness of snow, and smells, tastes, and colours in general ; of which the same authors taught that they exist, not
396 £LEMENTS OF PART 1V»
in the bodies themselves, but m the mind that perceives them. So that, a fire in an empty room can have no heat, Notwithstanding that it might melt lead, or burn the house ; at the poles, if there be no aninnals, there can be no cold, not- withstanding the quantity of ice ; and a red rose, in a wilderness where there is no animal to smelly taste, or look at it, has no colour, taste, or smell !
1015. To make this, if possible, a little plainer : put your hand near the fire, and you feel heat } put it still nearer, and you feel pain : if you say, there is heat in the fire, why do you not also say, there is pain in it ? and if it be absurd to say this, must it not be equally absurd to say the other ? And are not heat and pain sensations in the mind that perceives them ? Thus argued these philoso- phers, unanswerably, as they imagined ; but the answer is easy. The question is really a question about words ; though they, mistaking words for things, wanted to extend it further. The word keat denotes two things ; a sensation in the mind of him who perceives heat ; and a quality of an external thing fit for raising that sensation in the mind of him who approaches the hot body. We use the word in the first sense when we say, I feel heat ; for nobody imagines that fire feels heat or feels any thing : in the last sense we use the word, when we say there is heat in the fire ; for nobody imagines that there is in the human
CHAP. II. MORAL SCIENCE. 397
mind, or in the inside of the human body, any thing that can melt lead, or make a pot boil. — Whereas the word pa'm denotes a sensation only, and never an external bodily quality ; and there- fore he who says there is pain in the fire, violates the laws of language, and indeed speaks nonsense. It was for not attending to the exact signification of words that the philosophers I speak of were led into the absurdity of affirming, and as they thought of proving, that the secondary qualities of body exist only as ideas, or perceptions, in the mind that perceives them.
1016. This having been supposed to be proved of the secondary qualities, Berkel^% with equal courage and equal success, applied the same mode of reasoning to the primary qualities. For what is magnitude, solidity, figure, but something per- ceived ? And what is a thing perceived but a per- ception ? And what is a perception but something, you may call it an idea, in the mind of him who perceives ? And thus it was found out, that all the qualities of body, both secondary and primary, exist only as perceptions or ideas in the minds that perceive them, and have no other existence what- ever, and consequently, that all the things and persons we see around us, and all the parts of the visible universe, the sun, moon, and stars, not ex- cepted, are nothing but ideas in our minds ; and have no more of substance or body in them, than those thoughts have which occur to us in «leep.— -
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"Willi the same sirccess, and courage still greater, the same modes of reasoning were afterwards applied by Mr Hume to mind or spirit and its qualities. And so it was at last discovered, that there is no such thing as either mind or body in the uni- verse ; all being an immense heap of ideas or perceptions, without one substance to perceive them !
1017. With respect to the objects of sense, an important though obvious distinction w^as formerly mentioned, between the act of perceiving, the per- cipient power, and the thing perceived : a distinc- tion familiar to' every man, who can distinguish between the strength that enables the blacksmith to strike his iron, the stroke itself, and the iron that is struck ; and no three things in nature are more distinguishable. The blacksmith may have this strength without exerting it : the iron may lie on his anvil without being struck ; and his strokes he may make either many or few, or suspend al- together. What would be thought of the philoso- pher, who should say, that the power of striking, the act of striking, and the iron struck, are all one and the same thing, and that whatever is true of the one is true of the other ? — For example, that be- cause the smith can put an end to the act of strik- ing, he can also annihilate, and does at the same time annihilate, the iron vvhich he struck, and the strength that enables him to strike !
1018. Now it happens, in English as well as m
CHAP. II. MORAL SCIENCE. SSB
some other languages, that tlie act of perceiving the percipient power, and the thing perceived, are often, as was observed formerly, called by the same name. Hence it was inferred, that what is true of any one of these three things is true of both the other ; and that, if the act of perceiving exists in the mind only, and only while it is exert- ed, the same thing must be true of the power per- ceiving, and of the thing perceived. Which being granted ; it follows, that I, by shutting my eyelids^ annihilate the whole visible universe, as well as my faculty of seeing it ; and that, by opening them again, I humanely restore and create anew the whole system of visible things, and also prudently revive in myself the extinguished faculty of seeing them. One may well be surprised, that any time, or a single sentence, should be employed on such absurdities. But, within these thirty years, the principles that lead to this conclusion were ad- mired as profound and wonderful philosophy; and the use to which they were applied by some* by ONE at least, of those who taught them (for Berkeley and Locke, though not exempt from error, were good men), was to vindicate atheism. Never was there a stronger confirmation of the Psalmist's aphorism, ' The fool hath said in his ' heart there is no God ;* for grosser folly than such poor quibbles as these, and the sophistries- founded on them, it is not in the power of man to conceive. '
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1019. It was formerly observed (§ 103), that our perception of external things is attended with an irresistible belief that they exist, and are what they appear to be. "When I see a man, or a horse, I can no more doubt of his existence than of my own ; and my own I believe with as full assur- ance, as that two and two are four. The exist- ence of body is a self evident fact: it needs no proof, for to disbelieve or doubt of it is impossi- ble ; and it admits of none, because we know of nothing more evident to prove it by.
1020. Some philosophers have made a. noise about the fallacy of the senses. Our senses, say they, continually deceive us ; but reason enables us to find out the deceit, and correct it ; therefore we do not believe in our senses, unless reason warrant their testimony. Consequently, the evi- ■dence of sense is not intuitive, but requires rea- soning, either to confirm it, or to prove it falla- cious. I plunge a straight stick in water, keeping the upper part dry, and my sight informs me it is crooked. Very true ; but how do you know it is straight i* Turn away from it, without handling or looking at it; and you may reason about it as long as you live, without ever knowing whether it be straigiit or crooked. This we know by the informa- tion of our senses, that is, of our sight and touch ; and this we should never know, if we did not believe our senses. They may indeed be im- proved, or assisted, by telescopes, microscopes,
CHAP. II. MORAL SCIENCE. 40i
ear-trumpets, &c. ; and accurate observation is more to be depended on than what is inaccurate* ^ut if we did not btlieve in our senses, these, and all other means of information with respect to outward things, would avail us nothing.
1021. There is a difference between the imper- fection, if it may be so called, and the fallacy of sense. We cannot see a man on the top of a mountain twenty miles off; but we do not consi- der this as a proof that no man is there ; and of course are not deceived by it. When a distant tower, which we believe to be fifty feet high, ap- pears to our eyes to be not six inches high, there is no opposition between the sensation and the be- lief; for the word high^ applied to the fifty feet, denotes tangible magnitude, that is, magnitude as- certained by mensuration ; and, applied to the six inches, denotes visible magnitude, which changes with every change of distance, while the other re- mains invariably tlie same. There is no more op- position here than in saying, I see a white body, and I believe it to have a sweet taste ; for whiteness and sweetness are perceived by different senses ; and so are visible and tangible magnitude. All reasonings whereby we rectify the deceptions, and all means whereby we supply the imperfections of sense, proceed on a supposition, that our senses are not fallacious, and that things are what our senses represent them. And this the law of our nature compels ws to believe instinctively, and without proof; and without this belief we could
VOL, II, 2 c
402> ELEMENTS OF PART IV.
never obtain any knowledge or experience at all. Were it possible that a man could disbelieve his senses, he would be as helpless and ignorant as if he had none, and mankind would not consider him as a rational beiu£c«
1022. The evidence of internal sense or cox- sciousNEss, ctoes also, as was formerly observed, produce absolute certainty. That we have within us a thinking and active principle, called a soul or viiJid; which is the same thing to-day it was yes- terday ; is conscious of its own thoughts ; and ex- ercises a variety of faculties, different in their ob- jects and manner of operation ; and that the na- ture of those faculties, of memory, for example, of imagination, of conscience, and of our several passions, appetites, and affections, is such as, by attending to what passes in our minds, we perceive it to be : these are all of them suggestions of in- ternal sense, consciousness, or reflection, which we believe, because we feel them to be true ; and which, if we were not to believe them, would bring on us the charge of irrationality.
1023. The evidence of memory does also pro- duce absolute certainty. A child believes, without any doubt, that what he distinctly remembers to have seen or heard, he really did see or hear. And he believes this, not because he has been told that he may safely trust his memory, but because the law of his nature determines him of his own accord to believe his memory, as well as his senses. Indeed, if we were to distrust our memory, or t»
CHAP. 11. MORAL SCIENCE. f03.
consider it as a flillacioiis faculty, our senses would be of little use to us, and we should be incapable both of knowledge and experience, and also of reasoning ; for we cannot be satisfied with a proof, unless we remember the steps of it, and believe, tliat on this remembrance we may depend. Thougiits remembered may decay through length of time, and at last vanish ; but of an event or ob- ject, that part which we distinctly remember, we believe to have been real. We may forget the whole subject of a book, and yet remember, and consequently believe, that we read it. We may forget the proofs of a proposition, and yet remem- ber that it was formerly proved to our satisfaction, and acquiesce in it accordingly. If, in conceiving any event or object, we be uncertain whether we re- member, or only imagine, belief is suspended, and we remain in doubt : but no sooner are we con- scious that we remember, than belief instantly takes place ; and we say, I am certain it was so, for now I remember it distinctly.
1024. The law of our nature determines us to be- lieve, that WHATEVER BEGINS TO EXIST PROCEEDS
FROM SOME CAUSE. If, ou going homc, I should find on my table a book which I never saw before, it would occur to me, as absolutely certain, that some cause had brought, and some person made it. For if I were to be told, that nobody brought it, and that it never was made, I should without hesi- tation declare such a thing to be not only absurd, but impossible j and there is not one rational be-
404 nElements of part iv.
ing who in this would refuse to concur with me. Even children thin^c in this manner ; and some of them are very inquisitive into the causes of things ; a proof, that it is not experience merely, which leads us to infer the cause from the effect. If the book, which I supposed myself to find, contained wise ob- servations,and was well printed, and elegantly bound, I must of necessity believe, that the author, print- er, and binder, were possessed of wisdom and skill equal at least to the effect produced. That Being, whom we believe to have proceeded from no cause but the necessity of his own nature, and to be self existent, and on all other beings inde- pendent, we must also believe to have existed from eternity, or, in other words, to have had no be- ginning. For if every thing which has a beginning proceeds from some cause, that which proceeds from no cause can have had no beginning. See § 411, 412.
1025. The nature of probable reasoning, found- ed on a supposition that the course of nature will continue to be in time to come as it has been in time past, was formerly explained (§ 4.52, — 455) ; and therefore, to avoid unnecessary repetition, I shall say nothing further of it in this place. There is another sort of probable evidence, which is termed analogical, and which makes us expect SIMILAR events in similar circumstances. For ex- ample, we think it probable that the planets are in- habited, they being in all other respects so like our earth. The force of an argument from ana-
CHAP. ir. MORAL SCIENCE. 405
logy is in proportion to the degree of likeness that there is between the case from uh'ich we argue and the case to uJiick we argue. In the example given, rfie case from which we argue is, the circum- stance of this earth being a planet, warmed and enlightened by the sun, and inhabited by many varieties of living creatures; and the case to which ■we argue is, that of the other planets, which being in all other respects so similar to our earth, we think it highly probable that tliey must resemble it in this respect too, of being the habitations of per- cipient beings. A man who thinks, as Epicurus did, that they are no bigger than they appear to his eye, can have no notion of their being inhabited, because to him they must appear in every respect unlike our earth. And if we were to argiie with him, in order to bring him over to our opinion, we should begin with explaining to him those particulars wherein the earth and other planets re- semble each other. As soon as he understands these particulars as well as we, he will of his own accord admit the probability of our opinion.
1026. I conclude with a few remarks on the evidence of testimony. It is natural for man to speak as he thinks ; and it is easy, like walking forward. One may walk backwards, or sideways j but it is uneasy, and a sort of force upon nature j and the same thing is true of speaking one thing and thinking another. — It is also natural for us to believe what others seriously tell us. We trust the word of a man of whose veracity we have had
406 ELEMENTS OF 1»ART IVW
experience ; but we also credit testimony pre- viously to such experience ; for children, who have least ex]>erience, are most credulous. It is from having had experience of the dishowesty of men, and of the motives that tempt them to it, that \vc come to disbelieve or distrust what they say. In general, when we doubt a man's word, we have always some reason for it. We think, that what he says is incredible in itself; — or, that there is some motive or temptation which inclines him in ihe present case to violate truth ; or, that lie is not a competent judge of the matter in which he gives testimony ; or, lastly, we distrust him now, because we know him to have been a de- ceiver formerly.
1027. Faith in testimony often rises to absolute certainty. Of places and persons whom we never Raw, and of whom we know nothing but from the testimony of others, we believe many things as hrmly as we believe our own existence. This happens, when the testimonies of men concerning such places and persons, are so many, and so con- sistent, that it seems impossible they should be fictitious. When a number of persons, not acting in concert, having no interest to disguise what is true, or to affirm what is false, and competent judges of what they testify, concur in making the same report, it would be accounted folly to disbe* Jieve them ; especially if what they testified were credible in itself Even when three, or when two .witnesses separately examined, and who have had
C-HAP. Ik MORAL SCIENCE. 407
no opportunity to concert a plan beforehand, con- cur in the same dcchvration, we beheve them, though we have had no experience of their veraci- ty ; because we know that, in such a case, their declarations woLdd not be consistent, if they were not true.
1028. "Witli regard to an impossible thing, we should not believe our own senses, nor conse- quently human testimony. If we were to see the same man double, or in two places at the same time, we should think, not that it was so, but that something was wrong in our eyes, or that the ap- pearance might be owing to the medium through which we saw it. Miraculous facts are not to be ranked with impossibilities. To raise a dead man to life, to cure blindness with a touch, to remove lameness or a disease by speaking a word, are mi- racles : but to divine power, as easy as to give life to an embryo, make the eye an organ of sight, or cause vegetables to revive in the spring. And therefore, if a person, declaring himself to be in- vested with divine power, and saying and doing what is worthy of such a commission, should per- form such miracles, mankind would have the best reason to believe, that he was really sent of God, and that every thing he said was true.
1029. As the common people have neither time nor capacity for deep reasoning, and as a divine revelation must be intended for all sorts of men, the vulgar as well as the learned, the poor as well as the rich, it is necessary, that the evidence of
408 ELEMENTS OF, &C. PART IV.
such a revelation should be fit for commanding general attention, and convincing all sorts of men ;, and should therefore be level to every capacity. Now there is no kind of evidence, consistent with man's free agency and moral probation, which is likely to command universal attention, and carry full conviction in religious matters to the minds of all sorts of men, except the evidence of miracles, or extraordinary events. Some facts seem extra- ordinary which are really not so. Such are the tricks of jugglers, of which, when we are told the contrivance, we are surprised to find it so easy. Other facts seem extraordinary to those only who are ignorant of their causes : and such are many things in electricity, magnetism, and chemistry. But the miracles recorded in the Gospel are quite of a different kind. They were such as no power of man could accomplish, and of so particular a nature, that every person present at the perform- ance, who had eyes, ears, and common sense, waS as competent a judge of them as the most learned philosopher could have been. Of these miracles our Saviour not only performed many, but also imparted to his disciples the power of doing the same. If it be asked, what evidence is sufficient to establish the truth of a miraculous event, I answer, that every event admits of proof from human testi- mony, which it is possible for a sufficient number of competent witnesses to see and to hear.
THE END,
>
INDEX.
A.
ABSTRACTION, faculty of, analyzed and explained, i. 6. 9. Of the application of the words genus and species, 7, 8. Ab- stract nouns, example of, 9.
Accent, common to all languages, i. 19. Distinguished from emphasis, 20. Of provincial accents, 21.
Accession, See Property.
Achilles, his character in the Iliad, ii. 355.
Action in poetry, meaning of, ii. 344.
Addiso7i, encomium on his style, ii. 289. He is the best model of harmony in prose, 290. And of simplicity, 293. Enco- mium of Dr Johnson on, 325. Excellence of his Freeholder, 327.
Admiration, how excited, i. 189, 190. Distinguished from wonder and surprise, 190, 191. Plato calls it the mother of wisdom, when moderate, 191. Its use to the young, 192. How expressed in the human countenance, 273.
Adverbs, their nature and use, i. 43, 44.
JEneid, beauty of the episodes in, ii. 355. Remarks on the fable of, 356.
JEsops Fables, observations on, ii. 306. His excellence as a comic satirist, 378.
Agriculture, origin of, ii. 94.
Akenside, character of his pleasures of the imagination, ii. 376.
Alexander the Great, anecdote of, ii. 169.
Allegory, figure in speech explained, ii. 254. Example of- the
c
11 INDEX.
*' Pilgrim's Progress," ib. Examples from the ancients, 253. Farther remarks on, 308.
Alphabet, English, defects of pointed out, i. 16, 17. Antiquity of alphabets, Si. The Chinese have no alphabet, ib.
Ambition, a source of much misery, i. 213. Cicero's remarks on, 214.
Ayialogy, evidence arising from, described, ii. 404.
Ancients, characters of their historians, ii. 296.
Anrrer, opposed to ijratitude, and character of, i. 239, 240. Different names of, 241. Seems implanted in us for self- defence, 242. When carried farther it becomes revenge, ib. Boundaries within which it may innocently operate, 244. Cases in which it is laudable or blameable, 244. 250. Ad- vice to those who are prone to anger, ib.
Antediluvians were different from all other men, ii, 95.
Antipathi/, a modification of dislike, i. 208. Examples of, ib. Persons, by care, may conquer their antipathies, 109. Some multiply them, from an affectation of delicacy, ib.
Apostrophe, use of that figure explained, ii. 258. Examples, and references to examples of, ib.
Appetite, meaning of, explained, i. 170, 171. Hunger and thirst are complex feelings, 171, 172. Of action and rest, 173. Natural appetites never injurious, ib. It is his artificial appe- tites that degrade man, 174.
Architecture, when sublime, i. 99. Not an imitative art, 111.
Aristocracy, distinguished from democracy, ii. 190.
/Iristotle, his definition of ridicule, i. 118. His definition of virtue approved of, 161. He taught that the passions are to be moderated, not extinguished, 186. His account of anger, 244. His account of the cardinal virtues, 359. 364. Re- futation ef his arguments in favour of slavery, ii. 27. He ascribed the colour of the Ethiopian to the heat of the sun, 61. He thought interest on money unlawful, 128. He thought a mixed monarchy the best form of government if practicable, 203. Character of his logic, 383. • .
IXDEI. lU
Armstrongs Dr, his definition of virtue ridiculed, i. 397. Brief character of as a poet, ii. .'376.
Article, its grammatical use explained, i. 49. 53.
Assassination, futility of the argument that it is prevented by duelling, ii. 14'3.
Association, principles of, e?iplained, i. 79. 83.
Atheism, doctrine of subversive of all morality, i. 278, 279. Some atheists acknowledge a first cause, 282.
AUribiites, their gramnlatical use explained, i. 31. 33. Impro- priety of the phrase adjective noun, 31. No grammatical affinity between nouns and adjectives, 32. Divine, general view of, 292. 298.
Avarice, an unnatural passion, i. 214. Severel)'^ lashed by Ho- race, lb. It carries its punishment along with it, 215.
Auctions, origin of, ii. 130.
Aversion, meaning of, i. 218, 219. It is of similar import with dislike, 218.
B.
Bacon, Lord, character of his Essays, ii. 328. Of his Novum Organum, 386.
Bacon, Roger, he was the father of experimental philosophy, ii. 385.
Barter, inconvenience of, gave rise to the use of money, ii. 123.
Baslifulness, a modification of shame, i. 237. It is seldom in- jurious to the young, and is becoming in a public speaker, 238.
Beauty, principle of, ranked among our secondary sensations, i. 102. Wherein it differs from sublimity, 103. Beauty of colours, 104. Negroes think their own colour beautiful, be- cause they see no other, ib. The reason why figures are beautiful, 105. The opinion of Socrates well-founded, that beauty depends greatly on utility, ib. Examples of this maxim, 106. Of the beauty of gesture and motion, 10%.
IV INDEX.
Benevolence. Doubts answered concerning the existence of a principle of pure benevolence, i. 181, 182. Of universal be- nevolence, and the same objections, 183, 184. Of its place among' the pasiiions, 202. Distinguished from complacency, 203. Dr Watts' notion of benevolence, 204. When exerted to brutes it is termed humanity, 205, 206. Opinion of some writers, that every action to be good must have a benevo- lent tendency, controverted, 379, 380.
Berkeley, Bishop^ refutation of his theory, that the mind per- ceives not outward things themselves, but ideas of outward things, 399.
Blackstone, his just account of the principle of taxation, ii. 234.
Bodies, theory of the Platonists and Cartesians, of the primary and secondary qualities of, ii. 394.
Britain, Great, nature and excellence of its government, ii. 177. Allusion to Cromwell's usurpation, 193.195. The national debt originated with King William, 226. Origin and advan- tages of the liberty of the press, 236. The judiciary power of the laws explained, 237. See Parliament.
Broun, Sir Thomas, he affected uncommon phrases, ii. 287. Examples, ib.
Buchanan, George, his paraphrase of the Psalms full of verbosity, ii. 281.
Bunyan, John, character of his Pilgrim's Progress, ii. 308.
Butler, Bishop, his opinion that necessity is the basis of infide- lity, i. 154.
Butler, paraphrase of his simile, wherein he compares the dawn of the morning to a boiled lobster, 273.
C.
Casar, Julius, allusion to his history and character, ii. 185.
Encomium on his style, 288. His character as a historian,
301. Campbell, Dr, encomium on his philosophy of rhetorick, ii.
282.
INDEX. V
Canon Law, origin of, ii. 80. It proscribes interest in money
as unlawful, 128. Carter, Mrs, her version of Epictetus recommended, i. 188. Cervantes, his great merit as an author, ii. 315. Character, human, influence of physical causes on, ii. 66, 67. Cheey- fulness, distinguished from mirth, i. 232. Its good effects,
233. Some persons cannot be cheerful, ib. Chesterfield, Lord, his opinion objected to concerning laughter,
i. 124. The eloquence he recommends shewy and superficial,
135. Remarks on his letters, ii. 322. Children should be nursed by their mothers, ii. 11. Remarks
on their education, 12. Instances of the impropriety of their
treatment, l-t, 15. Advices to parents, 16, 17. Vv'hethe
best instructed at pubhc or private schools, 18. Are not
bound to obey their parents in marriage, or the choice of a
profession, 20. Chivalry. See Knight-Errantry. Christianity, termed by Bishop Butler the basis of infidelity, i.
154. Cicero, short view of his explanation of the doctrine of the stoics,
i. 364. 366. The justness of his ideas of patriotism, 399. His
censure of dancing, 407. Excellence of his De Orntore, 324. Civil Laiv, defined, i. 7, 8. Derived from the Romans. Serves
as a supplement to the municipal law of Scotland, ii. 80. Civil List, account of, ii. 232. Clarendon, Lord, encomium on his history, ii. 295- Clarice, Dr, excellence of his book on natural theology, i. 281.
He has refuted the paradoxes of Hobbes, ii. 82. Comedy should not be written in verse, ii. 362. Different kinds
of, characterised, 370. Commons, House of. See Parliament. Complacency, distinguished from esteem, i. 202, 203. Fondness,
a modification of complacency, 206, 207. Composition, some rules for, ii. 283. Conjunctions, observations on, i. 49.
VI IXDEX.
Conquest, many governments founded in, ii. 160. It conveys no just right to sovereignty, 161.
Consanguinity, laws of, ii. 8, 9.
Conscience is the faculty that makes us capable of virtue and happiness, i. 335. It characterises actions according to the intention, 236, 237. The reason why conscience is su- perior to our bodily appetites, 328. Its dictates are of higher authority than the principles of taste, 329. To acft contrary to its dictates, is a proof of a bad heart, 340. To act agreeably to them, is a proof of a good one, 341. Attempt of Locke to prove conscience not a natural faculty, by a re- ference to the customs of other nations, 371. Exaggera- tions of travellers, 372. Refutation of this doctrine, 373. .378. The divisions of, as they relate to the moral law of na- ture, ii. 82.
Consciousness, or reflection, general observations on, i. S^. 66. Evidence arising from, explained, ii. 404.
Contempt, how excited, i. 197, 198. General remarks on, 199» Disdain and scorn, modifications of it, how expressed in the face, 273. .
Contracts in law, nature and right of discussed, ii. 115. Dis- tinguished from resolutions and promises, 116. How con- tracts may become invalid, 119. Valid contracts must be possible and lawful, 120. How contracts are divided, ib. How enforced, ISO.
Cornelius Nepos, his character as a historian, ii. 302.
Covetousness, observations on, i. 212, 213.
Crusades, origin of, ii. 310.
Cynics, their doctrine that there is no indelicacy in words, cen- sured, ii. 135.
D.
lyamage, in what cases we are bound to repair if, ii. 138.
X>eht, national origin of, ii. 226. Progress of, traced, 227. How stocks rise and fall, 230. They are not a very certain crite- rion of public credit, ib.
IXDEX, y^
JDaiiocraci/, nature and peculiar genius of, explained, ii. 179. It is ill suited to human nature, and gradually degenerates into oligarchy and despotism, 180. Commerce dangerous to this form of government, ib. Its genius is unfavourable to the arts, 181. Example of the Lacedemonians, ib. Equality of power and similarity of education necessary to the preserva-
. tion of democracy , 1 82. Ambition, the bane of, 183. Poli- ticians assert that it can only exist in a small state, ib. Il- lustrations of this principle, 184-. A republic calls forth ge- nius, 191. The slowness with which they act a radical defect, 192. Allusion to the nmrder of Charles the First, and attempt to establish a republic in England, 193. England never less republican than under Cromwell, 195.
Descriptive poetry, remarks on, ii. 378.
Desire, description of, i. 1 10. It discomposes the mind, and exposes it to disappointment, 211. Propensity and longing, modifications of desire, 212. Covetousness, sensuality, am- bition, and avarice, are all desires, 212, 213.
Despair, remarks on, i. 221, 222.
Despotism, its effects in Turkey described, ii. 1 96. Extensive empires have a tendency to become despotical, 197. Climate may have its influence in enslaving nations, 198. Despotism is supported by fear, 199.
Dialogue^ remarks on, ii. 323.
Didactic poetry, different kinds of, characterised, ii. 376.
Pisplacenci/, or dislike, the object of, to do evil or take away good, i. 207. Different degrees of, distinguished by different names,, ib. Antipathy, a modification of, 208.
Disputation, cautions regarding, ii. 320.
Divine existence, general remarks on the proofs of, i. 281. 291.
. His unity is inferred from the light of nature, 293. Of his self-existence and omnipotence, 294'. 296. Of his goodness,
. 297. The knowledge of his attributes can only be derived
„ from revelation, 298. Of his justice, ib. Remarks on his power and terrors, 3H.
Ylll INDEX.
Don Quixote, its appearance formed an aera in the literature of Europe, ii. 315.
Dreaming, observations on, i. 88. Disagreeable dreams fre- quently the effects of some bodily disorder, 89. Of their probable use, and the hints we may derive from them, for preserving the health of both mind and body, 90. Causes of dreams, and directions for banishing disagreeable ones, 91, 92.
Dryden, brief character of his Absalom and Ahitophel, ii. 377.
Duelling, weakness of, the apologies for, ii. 142. It was un- known among the Athenians and Romans, ib. Tlie law re- garding, a mere mockery, 143.
E.
Education, modem system of, for children, makes too little ac- count of piety and religion, ii. 13. Some methods seem to teach them vice rather than virtue, 14. Instances of improper treatment, 15. Rules for the guidance of parents, 16, 17. Comparison of the merits of public and private schools, 18. The instruction of youth becomes a public concern in a de- mocracy, 183.
Elegiac poetry, different kinds of, characterised, ii. 374.
Emphasis, common to ail languages, i. 19.
Emidation and rivalship may exist without envy^ and enmit)^, i. 215, 216. The principle, when pure, ought to be cultivated among the young. 216, 217. Caution regarding, 218.
Entails, right of explained, ii. 104. Their advantages and dis- advantages, 105.
Enthusiasm, its nature and effects upon the mind, i. 394, S95.
Envy, detestable character of, i. 217. Horace says tyrants have never devised a greater torment, 218.
Epic poetry, remarks on, ii. 358. Divided into tragedy, co- medy, and pastorals, 369. References to the examples vs. tach department, 372.
?>'DEX. lit
Epicurus, refutatian of his opinion that mankind were once all dumb, i. 21.
Epigrammatic poetry, dififerent kinds of, characterised, ii. 3S0.
Episodes, character of Homer and Virgil's, ii. 356.
Essaj/s, British, account of, ii. 325. Of the object and proper style of the periodical essay, 327- Excellence of Lord Ba- con's essays, 328.
Esteem, meaning of explained, i. 194?. It implies moral appro- bation, ib. Of self-esteem, and of its near alliance to pride and vanity, 195.
Ethics, general remarks on, i. 331, 332. See Virtue.
Evidence, division of, ii. 390. Mathematical evidence, ib. It is divided into direct and indirect, 391. Evidence of external sense, 393. Evidence of consciousness, 4'02, Evidence which we have, when from effects we infer causes, 403. Evidence of analogy, 404. Evidence of testimony, 405.
Evil, question concerning the origin of, i. SOt. Is of two kinds, physical and moral, 305. Its existence is a proof that tli« present is a probationary state, ib.
Fables, character and use of, ii. 306. Divisions of, 307- Faculties, perceptive, defined, i. 2.
Fashion possesses the power of reconciling us to things natural- ly ludicrous, i. 123. Fear, term defined as opposed to hope, i. 219, 220. Despair
allied to fear, 222. Danger of, when it goes beyond attention
and caution, 223. Feudal rights or Jiejs, origin of, ii. 107. Tiiis system matured
in England by William the Conqueror, 111. IIow change*
were introduced in, by the nobles, ib. Fielding, his character as a writer, ii. 316. His Amelia is aa
epic poem of the comic species, 362. Figures of speech, division of, ii. 254. Allegory, ib. Hyperbole,
255. Personification, 257. Apostrophe, 258. Simiiitude^.
A index;
259. Figures favourable to harmony and delicacy of lan- guage and brevity of expression, 261. They are employed to express the passions, 262. Cautions in the use of, ib. Rules for their use, 263. They should be adapted to the subject, 264'. They should not be far fetched, 265. Examples of ' improper figures, 266. A good figure is such as might be painted, 267. They should not be drawn from things little known, 268. They should not be too frequent, nov pursued too far, 269. Example of this fiiult, ib.
Fondness, a feeling nearly allied to complacency, i. 205.
Fortitude, distinguished from courage, i. 223. It is a virtue rather than a passion, 224. Of its modifications, 225. Eu- logy on, 226, 227. Aristotle's description of, 362, 363.
Franklin, Dr, asserts that the introduction of negroes into the West Indies has lessened the numbers of the whites, ii. 51.
Fire a<^ency, the piinciple of action, i. 144. 148. The mind and body are put in motion by the will, and nothing can begin mo- tion but mind, 148, 149. Of motives, 150. Of materialism, 151. Necessitarians contradict their doctrines by acting like other men, 152. The Christian religion favourable to free- dom of will, 153. Prayer useless and inefficacious without it, 154. Concessions made by a modern necessitarian that mili- tate against his doctrine, 155. Difficulties of the doctrine of liberty, 157. The Deity can decree contingencies as well as certainties, 157, 158. Observations on the will, 158, 162,
Freehold qualifications, how acquired, ii. 205.
G.
Gaming, its baneful effects stated, i. 260. Savages gi-eat gamblers, 261.
Garricli, his countenance remarkable for variety of expression, i. 264.
Genius consists principally m a talent for invention, i. 84. De- grees and varieties of, 85.
Geniis, explanation of the term by examples, i. 7.
INDEX.
%l
Oeometry, remarks on, ii. 393.
Gibbon, his style censured, ii. 295.
Good breeding, objections to Lord Chesterfield's opinion, that
. laughter is inconsistent with, i. 124. Hints concerning, 125,
. 126. Essentials of, stated, 131. Of the causes of a want of politeness in some characters, 131, 132. Bluntness oi' man- ners censured, 132, 133. Farther remarks on, 319.
Goths, how they overran the Roman empire, and introduced the feudal law, ii. 110.
Government, origin of, ii. 14-9. 152. Advantages of, 153. Sup- posed origin of different forms of government, ib. How de- termined by the will of the majority, \55. Of the obligations of subjects to the laws, 156. Antiquity of government, 157.
• It may have arisen from parental authority, 158. Difference between the authority of a parent and a sovereign, 159. Government frequently founded in conquest, 160. Divine origin of kings peculiar to the Jews, 168. It was flatterers who contrived this doctrine, 169. Division of the rights of sovereignty, 171. Great emergencies justify a stretch of ])ower on the part of the executive, 1 72. The furm of go- vernment is determined by the distribution of property or power, 173. In commercial states like Venice, money will have similar effects, 174. By what means Lycurgus intro- duced democratical principles into Sparta, 175. Of the an- cient and modern division of the simple forms of government, ib. Nature of the ancient Roman government explained,
. 177. A senate is necessarry in a small state, and when here- ditary may change the government, 187. How votes were regulated in the ancient republics, 189. How luxury ruins every form of policy, ib.
Oratitude, definition of, as -opposed to anger, i. 239. Farther described, 251. Of ingratitude, 251, 252. Of gratitude to things irrational, 252, 253. Of the gratitude due to tl:9 Deit}', ib. Of filial and parental gratitude, 254.
^uUivcrs Travels, character of. ii. 308, ^
XU IKJBEX.
H.
Habeas corpus act, origin and nature of, detailed, ii, 238-
Habit, different significations of the word, i. 167. Of its power over the mind as a principle of education, 168, 169. An elo- quent extempore discourse, a wonderful proof of the power of habit, 170.
Harmony, the principle of, analyzed, i. 112. A taste for, dis- tinguished from the sense of Itearing, 113. Difference be- tween melody and harmony, ib. Of Rhythm, ib. Imitative powers of music very limited, 114-. Variety and proportion constituents of harmony, 115. In style, constituents of sweet- ness and variety of sound, ii. 289.
Herodotus, remarkable simplicity of his style, ii. 296. His credulity his only fault, ib.
Hierofrlyphics, adopted as a mode of expressing mysteries, i. 24. Their use a proof of the refinement rather than the simplicity of a people, ib.
History, critical remarks on the style of, ii. 294'. Distinguished from annals, SOi.
Hobbes, Mr, his opinion of laughter exposed, i. 118. His para- doxes now forgotten, ii. 82. He taught that kings cannot err, 170.
Homer, his accurate discrimination of characters, i. 238. His opinion praised, that when man is made a slave, he loses half his virtue, ii. 4'4'. Reference to similies in, 259. Wonderful diversity of his characters, 349. Beauty of the episodes in the Iliad, 355.
Hope, term defined and opposed to fear, i. 219, 221. Con- fidence a modification of, ib.
Horace, severity of his satire against avarice, i. 214. Of his opinion that tyrants have never devised a greater torment than envy, 218. His account of his own education, ii. 18. His rule concerning short sentences quoted, 272. He dissuades poets from attempting characters, 347.
INDEX. xm
Httiue, Mr, elegance of his history, ii. 295. He applied the reasoning of Berkeley to spirit and its qualities, 398.
Humility, not a passion, but a virtue, i. 200. Eulogy on, ib. The difBdence and dejection natural to some tempers, inju- rious to their interest and happiness, 201.
Humour, distinguished from wit, ii. 256. Agreeableness of the quality when delicate and natural, ib.
Hutcheson, Mr, his theory of laughter either false or not suffi- ciently comprehensive, i. 119.
Hyperbole, figure in language explained, ii. 253. Cautions for the use of, 256.
Hypotheca, right of, defined, ii. 106. The termjs synonimous with pledge, and nearly so with mortgage, ib.
I.
Idea, different meanings attached to that word by the ancients and moderns, i. ^. 6. Of abstract ideas, 9.
Idioms, English, remarks on, ii. 291.
Idleness, misery of, i. 405. It drives men into criminal pursuits^ 406. Peculiarly dangerous in youth, 406, 407.
Jealousy, remarks on, i. 228, 229, Nearly allied to suspi- cion, ib.
Iliad, beauty of the episodes in, ii. 355. Objections of the cri- tics to the character of Achilles, ib.
Imagination, faculty of, analyzed, i, 76. Wherein it differs from memory, ib. When employed on trivial occasions, is termed fancy, 77. It may be simple or complex, ib. Invention de- pends on imagination, 78. Of association, 79. Custom an extensive pi-inciple of association, 82. May also be influenced by dress ainl fashion, 83, A talent for invention, the founda- tion of genius, 84. Degrees and varieties of human genius, 85. Diseases of the imagination, 86. Means of obtaining a cure, ib. Danger of habitual wit and jocularity, 87. Misery of a melancholy imagination, 88.
Imitation, principle of, ranked among our secondary sensatioflS5
MV INDEX.
"i. 108. Man of all animals the most prone to imitation, ib. Why good imitation pleases when the original is disagreeable, 109. The fine arts may be called imitative, ib. Example of painting,^ 110. Of poetry, 111. The reasons why good imitations please even when of a mournful character, 112.
Immortality, discussion of the questions. Does the light of nature, unaided by revelation, afford any reason to think that the hu- man soul may possibly survive the body? i. 308. 312. Does, the light of nature afford any reason to believe that the soul •ecill adualli/ survive the body? 313. 321. What may be rea- sonably conjectured concerning a future state, 321. 325.
Impieti/, its nature and effects described, i. 390. Means of eradicating it from the mind, 391.
Incongruity, a cause of laughter, i. 120. Horace's remark on, ib. Not alwa)'s ludicrous, 123. Is diminished by fashion, ib.
Indies, West. See Slavery.
Industry, numbered with the duties we owe to ourselves, i. 403. The merit of, and the applause uncommon degrees of it com- mand, 404. Miseries to which inactivity exposes the mind, 405.
Ingratitude, odiousness of, illustrated, i. 251, 252.
Innoralions in language, danger of, ii. 291, 292.
Instinct, definition of, i. 164. How it guides animals, 'iGb, In youth it is a substitute for reason, ib. It governs many of our actions in manhood, 166. Our proneness to imitation is in some degree instinctive, 167.
Intemperance, baneful effects of, i. 407. Savages addicted to, ib. Allusion to the syposium of Plato, 40S. The habit may be easily guarded against in youth, 409.
7/7fere.s< is fixed by public law to prevent usurj', ii. 127. Inte- rest is unlawful, according to the canon law, and the theory of Aristotle, 128.
Interjections, observations on, i. 46.
Intestate persons, reasonableness of the law respecting their property, ii. 114.
INDEX. sy
■Job, book of, remarks on, ii. 380.
Johnson, Dr., his censure of Lord Chesterfield's letters just, ii. 323. His encomium on Addison, quoted, 325.
Joy, defined, as opposed to sorrow, i. 229. Modifications of, 230, 231. Of cheerfulness and mirth, 232, 233. Of sym- pathetic joy, 234. The approbation of conscience may be termed moral joy. 235.
Irony, explanation of that figure, ii. 24^.
Italian language was soonest perfected, ii. 314'.
Judicmry power of Britain explained, ii. 237. Of habeas cor- pus, 238. Juries, advantages of, 240.
Juries, nature and advantages of, explained, ii. 239. Grand and petty juries distinguished, 240. In Scotland there is no ^randjury, 241.
Justice, Aristotle's description of, i. 361, 362. It forms a part of every virtue, 398.
K.
Kings, divine origin of, among the Jews, ii. 167. Refutation of the doctrine of divine rights, which was contrived by flat- terers, 168. The nature of the king's duty in the parliament «f England explained, 210. Extent of his executive power, 215. Propriety of placing the army under the controul of the king, 216. Wisdom of raising him high above every subject, in point of dignity, 217. Enumeration of his duties and powers, 224. How his revenues are appropriated, 232.
Knight-errantry, origin of, ii. 310. Duties of the knights, and their courtesy, 311. Tournaments, frequency of, 312. How it became corrupted, ib. Exploded by the appearance of Don Quixote, 315. New Romance, divisions of, 316. It is a dangerous and unprofitable study, 317.
J^anguages, first confounded at the building of Babel, i. 22. Great resemblance of some modern languages, ib. Of Nouns,-
XVI INDEX.
27.29. Of Pronouns, 30. Of Attributes, 31. 33. Of Verbs, 43. Of Adverbs, 44. Of Participles, 45. Of Interjections, 46. Of Prepositions, 48. Of Conjunctions, 49. Of the Ar- ticle, 52. Figures of speech, oriLjin of, 245. See Sentence. Good and natural language distinguished in poetry, 357.
Lavr.ter, his eminence as a physiognomist, i. 269. Anecdote of, 270.
Laughter, observations on, i. 117. Causes of, ib. Risibility, a characteristic of man, ib. Aristotle's definition of ridicule, 118. Mr Hobhes's erroneous opinion of laughter, 119, 120. Mr Hutcheson's theory of, 1 19. Occasioned by incongruity, 120. Horace's remark on, ib. Examples of incongruity, from Erasmus and Budibras, 120, 121. Dignity and mean- Dess accidentally united, a cause of laughter, 121. The Dun- ciad and the Splendid Shilling are examples of this, 122. Fashion reconciles us to objects naturally ludicrous, 123. Ob- jections to Lord Chesterfield's opinion, that laughter is incon- sistent with good-breeding, 124.
Zflti', definiiion of, ii. 76. Utility of, 77. Divided into those of God, and those of man, ib. Explanation of some terms in the Roman law, 78. Human laws to be just, must deviate little from the law of nature, 79. Municipal, civil, and sta- tute law, distinguished, 80. Common and canon law explain- ed, ib. No one is allowed to plead ignorance of the laws, 81. Observations on the question, " What is the moral law of nature," 82. Laws are never retrospective, 84. Obligation and right distinguished, 85. Equity is distinguishable from strict law, ib. Inferior courts should adhere to law, 86. Supreme courts, from which there is no appeal, decide fre- quently according to equity, ib. Dispensations can only exempt from human laws, 87. Of the state of nature, 88. Human rights, division of, 89. See Property. Feudal law, disquisition on, 107. Laws explained respecting testaments,
. 113. Respecting contracts, 115. Respecting marriage, 1 17. Respecting money, 123. Respecting oaths, 130. Respect-
INDEX. XVU
ing duelling, 14-3. Of penal laws, and the necessity of re- vising them, 144. How laws are enacted in Britain, 164.
Lacedemonians, genius of their government unfavourable to tlie arts, ii. 181.
Letters, style of, must never be elaborate, ii. 321. Hints con- cerning, ib. References to collections of letters, 322.
Livi/, his character as a historian, ii. 300.
Liberty, the question, In what does it consist ? examined, ii. 162. 166. Definition of pohtical liberty, 166.
Locke, John, his attempt to prove that the moral faculty is en- tirely the effect of education, i. 371.
Logic, origin of, ii. 382. Character of Aristotle's logic, 383. Logic may make men fluent, but will not make a weak judg- ment strong, 386. Truth defined, 388. divided into certain and probable, 389. See Evidence.
Lycurgus abolished commerce, by ordering the Spartan money to be made of iron, ii. 126. By what means he introduced democratical principles into Sparta, 175.
Lyrical foetry, different kinds of, characterised, ii. 373.
Lyttleton, Lord, encomium on his history, ii. 296. His dialogues of the dead recommended, 324. Justice of his re- marks on Shakespeare, 352.
M.
Malevolence, the best name that can be opposed to benevolence, i. 203, 204.
Marriage must have existed under some form prior to laws, ii. 2. Principles of this union, 3. Appointed by Providence as the means of continuing the species, ib. Of the evils of po- lygamy, 3. 5. That the union should be for life is evident, ib. Plato's whimsical sentiments on, 6. Definition of, 7- Law.s regarding, 8. Of consanguinity, 9. The superiority of the husband generally acknowledged, 10. Mothers ought to nurse their offspring, 11. Of the duties which parents owe to their cliildren; 12. Parents have no right to controiil their
h
SVIU INDEX.
children in marriage, 20. Contracts of marriage, and how the law affects minors, 119.
Masters, duties of, to their servants, ii. 22.
Materialism, brief remarks on the doctrine of, i. 150, 151.
Mathematics, importance of the study, ii. 235. Cautions against being over curious in, ib. Mathematical evidence described^ 390.
Melancholi/, misery of such a temper, i. 87,, Means of averting or removing it, 88.
Memory, analysis of its different powers, i. 67. Of remembrance and recollection, 68. The power of attention of great import- ance, and nearly allied to memory, 69. Device of the Greek and Roman orators to strengthen memory, 70. What we perceive by two senses best remembered, 71. Memory com- monly strong in youth, 72. Means of improving it, 73. Of the limited nature of the memory of brutes, 75. Satisfactory nature of the evidence arising from memory, ii. 403.
Metaphor, figure of, in language, explained, ii. 245.
Metaphysics, cautions against wasting tfme in the speculative parts of, 338.
Metonymy, use of, in language, ii. 246,
Milton, example of short sentences from, ii. 272. Probability of his machinery in Paradise Lost, 244. His characters are admirably drawn and supported, 351.
Minors, bow controuled by the law, ii. 117.
Miracles, observations on, ii. 407, 408.
Moliere, anecdote of, ii. 287.
Monarchy, defined, ii. 199. A nobility necessary in, ib. The advantages it possesses over a republic, 200. Elective and hereditary monarchy compared, 201. To insure freedom the sovereign rights must be vested in different bodies, 202. The right of voting cannot with safety be extended, 204. Of freehold qualifications, 205.
Money, origin of, ii. 123. Of bullion, 124. How it varies in price, ib. How to ascertain tlie comparative value of ancient
t
&nd modem money, 125. Paper money derives its value from the contract it implies, 126. The rate of interest is prescribed by law to prevent usury, 127. Interest on money deemed unlawful in the canort law, 128.
Montesquieu, his just account of slavery, ii. 44. A slave, he as- serts, must be the enemy of the society in which he lives, 54. He is termed the greatest political genius, 162. His improv- ed division of the simple forms of government, 176.
Moral Faculty, or Conscience, general remarks on, i. 368, 369."
• Refutation of the opinion that it derives its character solely from habit and education, 370. 378. Speculations of casuists concerning an erroneous conscience, 378, 379.
Moral Philosophy, definition of, i. 3?8. Meaning of the word moral, ib. Manners and morals distinguished, 328, 329. Division of the subject into ethics, economics, and politics, 330. Of the nature of virtue and conscience, 332. 356. Theory of the Stoics on, as explained by Cicero, 364. 366. General observations on, 357.
Municipal law defined, ii. 78. Distinguished from statute law, 80, 81.
Music, observations on, i. 113. Of harmony and melody, ib. Of rhythm, ib. The imitative powers of music very limited, 114. Of concords and discords, ib. Its influence upon the passions, 115. Its expression not determinate, urJess united with poetry, 116. Association a source of the pleasure we derive from harmony, 116. The humanity of the ancient Arcadians ascribed by Polybius to their knowledge of this art, 117.
Necessity, objections to the doctrines of, i. 151. Necessitarians
■ contradict their doctrines by acting like other men, 152.
Bishop Butler terms necessity the basis of infidelity, 154^
Of the inefficacy of prayer, were this doctrine true, ib.
Concessions made by a modern necessitarian, 155. He Kg"
XX INDEX.
gards tlie Deity as the cause of all moral good or evil, and asserts that fatalism originated with Hobbes or Spinosa, 156.
Xet^roes. See Slaverj/.
Neido7i, Sir Isaac, his great modesty, i. 197.
NIcrht Thoughls, peculiar character of that poem, ii. 374-. Its beauties and defects pointed out, 375.
Nobles, power of, necessary in a limited monarchy, ii. 200.
Novels, majority of, censured, as calculated to cherish impro- per affections, i. 130.
Novelty, a secondary sensation, i. 94-. The active nature of man the cause of the pleasure he derives from novelty, 95. The causes of some objects being disagreeable at first, ib. Variety studied by the cultivators of the fine arts, 9S. No- velty, one of our first passions, and prompts men to acquire knowledge, 97. Diversity of intellectual taste, ib.
Nouns, nature and use of, explained, i. 27. 29.
O.
Oaths, nature of, explained, ii. 130. They are not unlawful, 131. Should not be exacted on trivial occasions, 132. Per- jury a proof of extreme wickedness, 133.
Obedience, passive, explained, ii. 167.
Obscurity, writers of this character can never be elegant, ii.' 285. It is a greater defect in poetry than prose, ib.
Occupancy. See PropcHy.
Opera. English, characterised, ii. 371. Beggars' Opera cen- sured, ib.
Ostracism, account of, at Athens, ii. 192.
P.
Painting, when calculated to excite sublime ideas, i. 99. Ic is an imitative art, 1 10. The progress of thought and action cannot be represented on canvas, ib.
Paretits, of the duties they owe to their children, ii. 12. Re- marks on the education of, 13. Instances in which it is impro-
INEDX.
XXI
perly conducted, 14, 15. Rules for the guidance of parents, ie, 17. They have no rlglu to controul their children in mar- riage or the choice of an employment, '20. Parliaments, how constituted, ii. 202. Of freeholders, 201- Duties of representatives explained, 206. Privileges of par- liament regarding freedom of speech, 2 '7. The inequality in representation between England and Scotland more apparent than real, 208. Internal laws of, explained, 210. Privileges of members not exactly defined, 211. How bills are passed into laws, 212. Money bills must originate with the commons, 213. The house of lords the supreme court in matters of property, 214. Reasonableness of this appointment, 215. The powers of the king explained, 216. Ministers are respon- sible to parliament for the advice they give to the king, 218. The great councils of the nation should not always be agsem- bled, 219. Prorogation, but not adjournment, dismisses both houses, 220. They are dissolved by law every seven years,
221. Triennial and septennial parliaments compared, ib. Supplies to meet public expences granted from year to year,
222. Qualifications requisite in members, ib. The opposi- tion a salutary check on ministers, 223. The succession, though hereditary, is subject to the cognizance of parliament, 224. Enumeration of the duties and powers of the sove- reign, 225. s Of taxes, ib-
Participles, analj'sis of, i. 45.
Passions, general remarks on, i. 175. The term defined, 176. General remarks on, continued, 176. 179. Divided into such as do not prompt to action, and such as do, ib. May be di- vided into selfish and benevolent, 180. Erroneous idea of self-love exposed, 181. Short view of the question, whether there is a principle of pure benevolence in man? 182. Of universal benevolence, and of the futility of the arguments of those who object to its existence, 183. Of unnatural pas- sions, 184, 185. Division of the passions into calm and vio- lentj 185. Of their danger when violent, and necessity of
SXll INDEX.
guarding against them, 1F6. The Peripatetics taught that the passions are to be moderated, not extinguished, ib. Some authors have divided them into spiritual and human, 188, 189. Farther general remarks on, 254:. 256. Are best regulated in early life, 256. Gaming censured, 260. How to divert the tide of passion, 262. How displayed in look and gesture, 263. Physiognomy early studied, ib.
JPastorals, different kinds of, characterised, ii. 372.
Patri(irchs, probably the first governors, ii. 158.
Patriotism, Cicero's idea of, just, i. 399. It comprehends al- most all the social virtues, 4C0.
Pedantry, cautions against, ii. 318.
Penal Lams, aim of, explained, ii. 144. Necessity of revising them, 145.
Perception, faculties of, distributed, i. 2. Aristotle's notion of perception, 54.
Perjury, guilt and danger of, ii. 133.
Personification, an explanation of tliat figure, ii. 257.
Perspicuity, the first requisite in a good style, ii. 285. Of things necessary to insure it in writing, 286.
Physiognomy, early studied, i. 263. Different degrees of skill in, ib. Anecdote of Socrates, 264. All men are more or less physiognomists, 266. Facts from which the truth of this science may be inferred, ib. Many parts of the body, be- sides the face, are expressive of character, 267. Lavatcr Jiis great skill in, 269. The affections, when habitual, betray themselves in the countenance, 270, 271. The connection between the inward emotions and the form of the muscles cannot be explained, 271. How the countenance may be read by supposing it crossed by four parallel lines, 271. 273. How admiration, contempt, grief, and joy, are expressed, 274. Subjects cannot be made intelligible without draw- ings, ib.
Piety, the duties of, considered, i. 383. Its reasonableness and importance, 384. The affections it requires us to cherish, 385.
INDEX. xxm
Worship an important part of, 386. Great utility of public or social worship, 387; 388. It reminds men of their origin and end, and thus teaches humility, 389- Of the ^^ces or crimes opposite to piety, 390. Impiety described, 391. Means of eradicating it from the mind, ib. Superstition the vice of weak minds, 392. How removed, 393. Enthu- siasm highly inimical to true piety, 394-5 395.
Plato, he ascribes to the soul two natures, i. 187. His remark on admiration, 191. His whimsical sentiments on mar- riage, ii. 5.
Pleonasm described, ii. 280.
Plutarch, his character as a writer, ii. 299.
Poetry, when sublime, i, 100. Is an imitative art, 109. This position again illustrated. 111. The end of, to instruct as well as please, ii. 239. The question whether it be more ancient than prose of little importance, 34-0. Causes of the temporary popu- larity of some immoral poems, 2il. Although the poet is allow- ed greater latitude than philosophers, his fictions to please must be plausible, 34-2. Heathen mythology cannot now be relished in serious poetry, 343. Philosophy represents, but poetry imitates or improves nature, S-tS. Difficulty of drawing character properly in poetry, 34'7. To make all the charac- ters wise and virtuous would be improper in fiction, ib. Distress is necessary in fable to excite our pity, 348. The most instructive incidents in Homer and virgil arise from vice and imprudence, ib. Wonderful variety of Homer's characters, 349. A fabulous character, if bad, should never be made so agreeable as to make us love vice, 350. A work, like a poem which is addressed chiefly to the passions, must not be too long, 354. Every part of the fable should tend to illustrate the leading event, ib. Of style, 357. Epic poetry- distinguished from comedy and farce, 359. Definition of poetical language, ib. Verse necessary to the perfection of poetry, 361. Principles of, 363. Ancient names of metri- cal feet adapted to English verse. 365. Iambics, ib.
SXIV INDEX.
Trochaic?, 366. Anapestus, ib. Harmony, imitative, defin- ed, 367. Division of poetry, 368. Epic or narrative, 369. Dramatic, comprehending tragedy, comedy, and pastorals, 369. 373. Lyrical, ib. Elegiac, 374'. Didactic, 375. Descriptive, 378. Epigrammatic, 379. Concluding remarks, 381.
Politics, a useful study, ii. \^1.
Polygayny, forbidden in scripture, ii. 3. Its prevalence in the East, 4. Equality of the numbers of the sexes an argument against, ib. It is inconsistent with the affection of parents, and the duties they owe to their children, 5.
Poli/bius ascribed the humanity of the ancient Arcadians to their knowledge of music, i. 116. His character as a historian, ii. 298.
Pope, philosophy of his Essay on Man censured, ii. 377. Ex- cellence of his satirical writings, ib.
Pre.icJier, importance of the profession, ii. 330. Impropriety of preachers imitating the gestures of players, ib. Qualifica- tions of, 331.
Prepositions, observations on, i. 46. 48.
Prescriptiojis, reasonableness of, ii. 100.
Press, origin of the liberty of, ii. 235. Its advantages, 236. Its abuses, ib.
Pride, as distinguished from vanity, i. 195. Distinguished from arrogance and insolence, 196. It is an artificial passion, 197.
Printing, origin of, i. 25. Importance of the art, ib. Brought to perfection in France by Robert and Henry Stephen, 26.
Pronouns, nature and use of, explained, i. 29, 30. Relative importance of their proper position in a sentence, ii. 274.
Property/, origin of, ii. 90. It may be acquired by occupancy or accession, 92. Property in food must have been the ear- liest, 93. How long permanent property continues, 96. Nations have no right to seize upon a country already peo- pied. 98. Of property that belongs to the community, 99..
INDEX. SXV
Prescriptions, nature of, explained, 100. Accession, right of, defined, 101. Entails, nature and effects of, 101-. Of pro- perty held in fee or feu, 105. Of pledges, or the right of hijpotheca or hypothec, 106. The right of servitude, 107^ Feudal rights or fiefs introduced by the Goths, &-c. 110. Tes- taments, 113. Contracts, 115.
Provensah. See Troubadours,
Prudence, Aristotle's description of, i. 360, 361.
Psychology, explanation of the term, i. 1.
Punishments, capital, observations on, ii. 145.
Pythagoras, his theory of virtue, i. 359.
Q.
Quintus Curtius, his character as a writer, ii. 303.
R.
Ramsay, Allan, character of his Gentle Shepherd, ii. 372.
Reflection, or consciousness, general observations on, i. 6^. 6Q.
Representation, the dependence and ignorance of the common people, are good reasons why every man should not be al- lowed to vote, ii. 204. Inequality in, more apparent than real, 207. Innovation in, would be dangerous, 209.
Republic. See Democracy.
Resentment, its anti-social nature and effects, i. 396, 397.
Rhythm, common to both music and poetry, i. 113.
jR/V//c?</e, ^ Aristotle's definition of, i. 118.
Rights, human, division of, ii. 88. Of rights perfect and imper- fect, ib. Alienable and unalienable, 89. Adventitious, 90. Division of the rights of property, 102. Personal and real, 103. Of entail, 104. Of self-defence, 141.
Romances, origin of, ii. 309. Of the Troubadours, 313. Don Quixote exploded the old romance, and brought in the new, 316.
Romans, their triumphs censured as barbarous, i. 231. Their practice of slavery and laws concerning, ii. 28. 30. How
SXTI INDEX.
they were subdued by tlie Goths, &c 108. DuelHng un- known, 142. Rome, nature of its ancient government explained, ii. 177. It was the office of Diciator, and a behef in auguries, that pre- served the republic so long, 191. Causes of despotism in, 197.
S.
Salhist, his character as a writer, ii. 303.
Scotticisms, difficulty of avoiding them in North Britain, ii. 292
Scriptures, Sacred. Peter's answer to the lame man an instance of transposition in language, ii. 273. Example from St Paul of connectives repeated giving force to a sentence, 278. Style of the Scriptures inimitably simple, 293. Every attempt to versify the book of Job and the Psalms, take from their sim- plicity, 362. Remarks on the poetical parts of, 380.
Self-esteem, the difficulty of keeping it within just bounds, i. 195.
Sensation, external observations on, i. 53. Q^. Distinguished from sentiment, 367.
Sensations, secondary, general observations on, i. 93. The phrase synonimous with pleasures of the imagination, 94. Of Novelty, 94. 97. Of Sublimity, 97. 102. Of Beauty, 102. 108. Of Imitation, 108. 112. Of Harmony, 112. 117. Of Laughter, 117. 126.
Senses. Of Taste, i. 57- 59. Of Sound or Hearing, 61. Of Sight, 63. Of Touch, 64. The external evidence of the Senses, re- marks on, 394. On the alleged iallacy of the Senses, 400. Difference between the imperfection and fallacy of a Sense, 401.
Sentence, in language, definition of, ii. 271. Short and long sen- tences should be intermixed, ib. Whatever is intended to make a strong impression should be expressed with brevity, 272. Transposition, examples of, 273. Position of relative pronouns, 274. And adverbs, 275. Unity necessary in a sentence, ib. Beginners should not attempt long and com-
INDEX. XSVll
plex sentences, 276. Pauses, difficulty of prescribing rules for, 277. How conjunctions are to be used, ib. Example of, from St Paul, 278. A sentence is not always injured by ending with a word of weak sound, ib. Propriety of review- ing composition after it is partially forgotten, 279. Tautolo- gy, instances of, 2S0. And pleonasm, 281. Hints to begin- ners in composition, 282. Examples of different complex sentences, 283.
Sentiment, distinguished from sensation, i. 367. Modern ap* plication of the terra censured, 3G8.
Sermon, nature and use of, ii. 329. How a sermon should be composed, 334-.
Servants, o^gin and nature of their duties explained, ii. 20. 22.
Servitude, right of, in law, defined, ii. 107.
Shakespeare, his character as a poet, ii. 353.
Shame, passion of, described, i. 2,'35, 236. Bashfulness nearl)' allied to shame, 237. It is seldom injurious to the possessor, 238.
Similitude, improperly ranked among the figures of speech, ii. 258. Use and beauty of, in language, 259. Examples of, in Homer and Virgil, referred to, ib.
Simplicity in style, observations on, ii. 293.
Slavery, description of, ii. 23. Of its degrading nature and repugnance to reason and religion, 24. Its antiquity, 25. Cruelty of the Spartans to their slaves, ib. There are per- sons who defend slavery, 26. Aristotle's arguments in favour of, refuted, 27. Its diffusion no argument in its favour, 28. Laws of the Romans concerning, ib. Slavery worse than death, ib. In Rome a man might sell himself for a slave, 29. Might sell his children, 30. Horror of, ib. It is not al- lowed in Britain, 31. Of the negroes in the West Indies, 32. Origin of slavery in modern Europe, 33. The bad po- licy and inhumanity of, proved in parliament, S-i'. Free ser- vant* might be employed at less expence than negroes, 35» The arguments refuted, '< that negroes being exposed for sale by their countrymen; if we did not buy them, others would," 3Sc
XXVMl INDEX.
38. " That the negroes are happier in our colonies thjtt they were in their own country," 39. 42. " That the African blacks are so very wicked as to deserve no other condition than slavery," 43. 47. The necessities of government a bxid plea for continuing the slave traffic, 48. Tliat the very soil becomes more fertile under the hands of freemen, is the opinion of many respectable authors, 50. Dr Franklin as- serts, that the importation of negroes has lessened the num- bers of whites, 51. Were slavery abolished, free ser\'ants might be easily procured, 52. Emancipation would even promote tiie happiness and interest of planters, 53. A slave, according to Montesquieu, is the enemy of the society in which he lives, 54. Colonial produce not necessary to life, 55. The argument, that negroes are an inferior race of men, minutely considered and refuted, 53. 69. Although slavery cannot be completely abolished at once, much may be done to ameliorate the condition of the negroes, 70. Anecdote of three negroes unjustly condemned to death, 71. Note. The clergy entirely neglect the negroes, 72, 73. Anecdote illus- trative of this, ib. Note. Let their labour be lessened and allow them to rest on the Sabbath, 73. How America may have been peopled from Asia, 74.
Socrates, justness of his opinion, that beauty consists chiefly in utility, i. 105. Anecdote of, 264. He acknowledged his ignorance of the divine attributes, 298. His disputes with the Stoics, 383.
Social duties, general remarks on, i. 395, 396. The obliga- tions of charity stated, 398. Importance of patriotism, 399, 400. General remarks on the affection of parents and chil- dren, 401. 403. How the intellectual powers are to be cul- tivated, 412. The improvement of our nroral nature the greatest duty, 413. Conclusion, 414. 416.
Society, supposed stages of, stated, ii. 97.
Sophists, origin of ii. 383. Their hatred of Socrates, ib.,
ISovereigntt/. See Government,
INDEX. XK13;
Se'uli human, its connection with the body inexplicable, i. 300. Its immateriality proved from its possessing qualities different from those of matter, 301, S02. Controversies have been raised concerning the time when it is united with the body, 303. Allusions to the question on the origin of evil, SO^. Evil is of two kinds, moral and physical, 305. Its ex- istence is a proof that the present is only a probationary state, ib. The immortality of the soul unnecessary to be proved to the Christian, 308. Discussions of the questions, Does the light of nature, unaided by revelation, aiford any reason to think that the human soul may possibly survive the body ? 308. 312. Does the light of nature afford any reason to be- lieve that the soul ivill actitallij survive the body? 313. 321. What may be Teasonably conjectured concerning a future state? 321. 325. Spectator, Vision of Mirzah in, an example of elegant composi- tion, ii. 278. Instance of pleonasm in, 281. Origin of, 325. Speech, origin and nature of, i. 10. 12. Of the human voice and its mechanical powers, 13, 14. Cf the formation of vowels and consonants, 15. Of the defects of our alphabet, 16, 17. Inutility of the art which teaches the dumb to arti- culate, 17. Of letters and words, 18, 19. Primitive words generally short, ib. Of emphasis and accent, 19, 20. The opinion of Epicurus refuted, that mankind were once all dumb, 21. Steele, Sir RicJiard, the first writer of popular essays in England,
ii. 324, Stephen, Robert and Henry, their great merit as printers aljd
editors of the classics, i. 26. Stocks, nature of, explained, ii. 229.
Stoics, their theory of the passions often uniatelligible, i. 187, 188. Mrs Carter's version of Epictetus, ib. They condemD all violent emotion*, 230. Cicero's explanation of their doctrine, 364. 366.
iSS INDEX.
Style, in language, defined, ii. 264. Causes of diversity In, ib. Perspicuity, the first requisite of a good style, 285. How it is obtained in writing, 286. All uncommon phrases are to be avoided, 287. Too few and too many words equally hurtful to perspicuity, 288. Harmony in prose requires sweetness and variety of sound, 289. Examples of both, 290. Purity a third requisite of style, 291. Idioms distinguished from strict grammar, ib. Simplicity, great merit of, 293. Divi- sions of, 294. The historical style, ib. Of the epistolary style, 321. Of the style of essays, :^526. And sermons, 333. Of the philosophical style, 336. Of the poetical style, 358.
Sublimity, classed among our secondarj' sensations, i. 97. Causes of sublime emotions, 98. The Deity, the most sublime ob- ject in nature, ib. How the fine arts excite this sensation, 100. A taste for the sublime, conducive to moral improve- ment, 102.
Suicide, remarks on, i. 410, 411. Stoics, unreasonableness of their opinion that all virtues are equally meritorious, and all vices equally blamcable, 381, 382.
Superstition, the vice of weak minds, i. 392. How it may be removed, ib. The absurdity and varieties of, 393.
Suspicion, remarks on the character of, i. 228. Nearly syno- nimous with jealousy, ib.
Sivift, character of his Gulliver's Travels, and Tale of a Tub, ii. 308.
Sympathy, general observations on, i. 126. Is called forth even by inanimate things, 127. And by the brute creation, ib. Is strongly excited by our friends and equals, 128. We may sympathise with a person who feels nothing, 128. Our • fellow feeling best roused by a knowledge of the cause of the sufferings of others, ib. Many passions may be strengthened by sympathy, 129. Favourable to virtue and good breeding, 130. 133.
Synecdoche, figure in language explained, ii. 247.
INDEX, XXXI
T.
Tacitus, he thought a mixed monarchy like that of Britain im- possible, ii. ^03. His style, though excellent, is sometimea affected, 294.
Talc of a Tub, remarks on, ii. SOS,
Taste, observations on the sense of, i. 57, 58, Threefold mean- ing of the term. ib. Intellectual definition of the term, 1 S-l-. It implies several talents, such as imagination, (135), readiness of apprehension, (136), a lively sensibility to the sublime or beautiful, (ib.), sympathy, or moral sensibility, (137), and judg- ment or good sense, (138). Some degree of taste common to all men, and even children, ib. Improved by education and study, 139. Enumeration of books calculated for improving this faculty, ib. Importance of grammar in forming the judg- ment and taste, 140. Also improved by works on criticism, ib. List of books recommended, 140, 141. The principles of taste permanent, although inelegant modes of writing have been fashionable, 141. Examples of this, 142, 143.
Tautology., examples of, ii. 279.
Taxes, how raised, ii. 225. How applied, 232. Amount of, 233. Taxation, when not excessive, promotes industry, 234.
Telernachiis, character of, ii. 363.
Temperance, recommended as a means of regulating the passions, i. 255. Aristotle's description of, 363, 364. Farther remarks on, 407. 409.
Testaments, origin and nature of the right of, ii. 113.
Testimony, m.t\\rQ of the evidence arising from, described, ii.406.
Theology, natural, dignity and use of, i. 277, 278. Afheism is subversive of all morality, 279. The existence of the Deity has been proved by two different modes of reasoning, 280. General observations on the proofs of the divine existence, 281. 291. The divine attributes- enumerated and explaineda 293. 298,
XXXU INDEX.
Thomson, character of bis Seasons, fi. 378. Of the Castle of Indolence, 379.
Tluccydides, his character as a historian, ii. 297.
Torture, not allowed in Britain, ii. 241.
Touch, obser\'ations en this sense, i. 63, 64-.
Tragedy, different kinds of, characterised, ii. 369.
Tropes, primary, described, ii. 24'5. ^Metaphor, 246. Metono- my, ib. Synecdoche, 24-7. Irony, 249. Secondary tropes de- scribed, 250. Antonoraasia, a species of synecdoche, ib. Com- munication the same, 251. Litotes the same, ib. Catachrcsis, Abusio, 252. Hyperbole, 253. Observations on the use and abuse of tropes and figures. See Figures.
Troubadours, origin of, ii. 313. Their works contain the first gleams of literature in modern Europe, 314.
Truth, duty of, considered, ii. 134. Examples in wliich slight deviations from may be innocent, ib. Definition of, 388. Division of, into certain and probable, 389. See Evidence.
U.
Vanity, wherein it differs from pride, i. 195. They are some- times, although seldom, found in the same character, 196.
Verbosity described, ii. 281. Instances of, ib.
Verbs, nature and use of, i. 33. 35. Definition of a verb, ib. Number and origin of auxiliary words in the English language, 36. Of the attributes expressed by verbs, 37- Of the tenses, 40. Their number, 41. Of the moods, 42. Division of verbs into active, passive, and neuter, 43.
Vir-ril, the short sentences that begin his Pollio are a model of tJieir kind, ii. 272. He is inferior to Homer in incidents and the drawing of characters, 351. His fable is well managed, .'554. His episodes, beauty of, "55. Eulogy on his Georgics, 376. 378.
".'ifiue, referred to 'the will, i. 161, 162. Necessary in the idea of a future state, 305. Term defined, 332. The end of hu-
INDEX. xxxia
man nature may be discovered, 333. Man was made for two ends, action and knowledge, 334. It is conscience that makes us capable of virtue and happiness, 3-5, 336. Conscience approves or disapproves of actions, according to the intention, 337. The nature of conscience explained, 337. 311'. Argu- ments derived from the power of conscience in favour of vir- tue, 344. 347. It obtains considerable gratifications, even in this life, ib. Of the imperfection of human excellence, 348. Truth of the maxim that man's chief happiness results from virtue, 349. 354. It is the chief, but not the only good, 355. Description of, 356. Different meanings of the term, 357. Intellectual accomplishments only to be valued as they pro- mote moral goodness, 358. Short view of Aristotle's account of the four cardinal virtues. Prudence (360), Justice (361, 362), Fortitude ( 303 ) , and Temperance ( 363, 364 ) . Cicero's explanation of, 364. 366. Dr Armstrong's definition of, ridi- culed, 397. Social virtues, general remarks on, 376.
Voltaire is often affectedly witty in writing history, ii. 295.
Votes, how regulated in the ancient republics, ii. 186. The right of voting could not be extended with safety in Britain, 204.
Vo!/ages, utility of books of, ii. 305.
W.
War, origin of, ii. 139. When agreeable to reason and scrip- ture, 140.
Watts, Dr, remarks on his theory of benevolence, i. 204, 205.
Will, meaning of, explained, i. 158. Distinguished from the words desire and command, 159. Aristotle's definition of virtue approved, 161. Actions derive their moral character from the will, 161, 162.
Wit, distinguished from humour, ii. 256.
Writing supposed to be of greater antiquity than the hierogly- phics of Egypt, i. 24. The Chinese employ no alphabet, ib.
XXXIV
INUEX.
X.
Xenophon, his style a model of perspicuit}', ii. 288. His charac- ter as a historian, 298.
Y.
Young, Dr, his character as a poet, ii. 375,
ERRATA.
P. 319. 1. 13. for distinguish read distinguishej.
P. 28. 1. 4. for ture
— 59 16. ~ by
— 63. iVofe, — worthiest
— 111. — 27. — so
— Il7. — 25. — commences
— 151. — 2. — mens
— 247. — 8. — misererum
— 282 14. — pleonsam
— 296 29. — What he saw
— 321. — 23. dele of.
— 313- — . 25. dele other.
read true.
— my.
— worthy.
— such.
— ends.
— men's.
— miserum. ~ pleonasm
— What he savs he sa-a;.
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