Elements of moral science

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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

•70 ELEMENTS OF PART II,

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-^

72 ELEMENTS OF PART IT,

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.

,*T4< ELEMENTS OF PABT II,

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-

*76 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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-

78 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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

60 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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

82 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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.

84

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

86 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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-

^8 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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

92 ELEMENTS OF PART III,

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

94 ELEMENTS OF PART HI.

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

96 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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

VOL. II. G

98 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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

100 ELEMENTS OF PART III,

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

104 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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,

106 ELEiMENTS OF PART III.

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

108 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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-

110 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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-

112 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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

VOLrf Hi H

114? ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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

144 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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

146 ELEMENTS OF PART III,

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=(«.

148 ELEMENTS OF PART Hi,

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

150 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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-

152 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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

154 ELEMENTS OF PART 111.

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.

158 ELEMENTS OF t*ART III.

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.^

186 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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-

20S ELEMENTS OF PART UK

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.

VOL. II. 0

210 ELEMENTS OF PART III,

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.

216 ELEMENTS OF PART 111,

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

524 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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

VOL. II. p

226 ELEMENTS OF PART III.

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 .

-52 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.

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-

254 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.

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

264 ELEMENTS OF PART IV.

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^

300 ELEMENTS OF PART IV,

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

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,.

380 ELExMENTS OF PART 1V»

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.

38g ELEMENTS OF PART IV.

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

S84 ELEMENTS OF PART IV

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

S86 ELEMENTS OF' PART IV.

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

^88 ELEMENTS OP PART IV.

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.— -

398 ELEMENTS OF - PART IV-'

"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. '

400 ELEMENTS OF % PART IV,

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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