Lives of men of letters & science who flourished in the time of George III

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MEN OF LETTERS AND SCIENCE,

WHO FLOURISHED IN

THE TIME OF GEORGE III.

BY

HENRY, LORD BROUGHAM, F.R.S.,

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VOL. II.

LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, 13, GREAT MARYBOROUGH STREET.

1846.

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PREFACE

IN delivering to the world a Second Volume of the
' Lives of Philosophers/ I am bound to acknowledge,
with much thankfulness, the favour with which the
former was received ; but I must, at the same time,
take leave to state, that the French critics especially
appear to have greatly misapprehended the object of
my labours. Some of them have asked what occa-
sion there was to write lives of Voltaire and Rousseau,
when there was no new information conveyed respect-
ing those celebrated persons, and no new judgment
pronounced upon their works. They seem to have
been misled by the accidental circumstance of the
French publication only containing these two pieces,
which, however, formed part of a series compre-
hending all the men of science and letters who
flourished in the time of George III. Surely, my
French friends and neighbours would have been the
first to complain had Voltaire and Rousseau been
left out of the list. In the most severe of the
criticisms which have appeared of these two Lives,
I have to acknowledge the very courteous and even
friendly style of the learned and ingenious author.

VI PREFACE.

M. Berville ; but he will permit me to express no
small satisfaction at finding that, after all, he con-
firms almost every opinion which I had ventured to
pronounce upon Voltaire, the subject to which his
remarks are almost exclusively confined. As for the
want of novelty, nothing can be more perilous than
running after discoveries on the merits of works
that have been before the world for almost a cen-
tury, and on which the most unlimited discussion has
taken place. It may, however, perhaps be thought
that, in one respect, the Life of Voltaire differs from
its predecessors. There is certainly no bias either
of nation, or of party, or of sect shewn in the opinions
given whether of the personal merits or the works
of that great man. On one subject M. Berville evi-
dently has entirely misapprehended me, when he says
I have expressed an opinion different from Clairaut's
on Voltaire's scientific capacity. Clairaut's judgment
was confined apparently to subjects of pure mathe-
matics; and I have only ventured to wish that either
it had been expressly so limited, or that it had been
so understood by Voltaire, whose capacity for experi-
mental philosophy, though not for the mathematics, I
ventured to consider was very great. Of this I have
given the proofs, and M. Berville considers them as
an important addition to what had hitherto been said
of Voltaire.

Respecting the Life of Rousseau, his opinion is
much more severe; but on this subject I never can
hope to agree with a writer who manifestly regards

PREFACE. Vll

that individual as a great benefactor of his species,
and as having waged a war against tyranny equally
successful with Voltaire's against priestcraft. Rous-
seau's political works are wholly beneath contempt.
No proofs are required to shew the ignorance and
even incapacity of a writer whose notions of the
representative system — the greatest political im-
provement of modern times — are such, that he holds
a people to be enslaved during the whole interval
between one election and another — a dogma which
makes it utterly impossible for any free state to
exist whose inhabitants amount to more than fifteen
hundred or two thousand. But, in truth, it is not as a
political writer that Rousseau now retains any portion
of the reputation which he once enjoyed. His fame
rests upon a paradoxical discourse against all know-
ledge, a second-rate novel, and an admirably written,
but degrading, and even disgusting autobiography.
The critic is very indignant at the grave censure
which I pronounced on this last work, and on the
vices by which it showed the author to have been
contaminated. I deliberately re-affirm my opinion
as formerly expressed on the subject ; nor can I ima-
gine a more reprehensible use of faculties, such as
Eousseau certainly possessed, than the composition
of a narrative, some parts of which cannot be read
without horror and disgust by any person whose mind
is ordinarily pure.

The Lives in the present volume require little
prefatory remark, because they embrace hardly any

Vlll PREFACE.

controversial matter. But I venture to advise the
reader, that, even if prejudiced against the preten-
sions, or, it may be, against the practical conclusions,
of the Political Economists, he should not turn from
the subject of Adam Smith; and that, even though
averse to geometrical studies, he should not be scared
by the mathematical discussions connected with
D'Alembert. For he will find that the subjects on
which the great and well-established fame of Smith
is founded have not been treated with any of the
prejudices wherewith the Political Economists have
been charged; and he will also experience no diffi-
culty in apprehending the truths which it is the prin-
cipal purpose of D'Alembert's Life to recommend, in
so far as regards the important subject of mathema-
tical pursuits, and the gratification which they are
fitted to bestow. This last hope is one which I have
peculiarly at heart. Nor do I think that I should
have been induced to undertake the labour of these
two volumes by any other consideration than the
desire of recommending the study of the mathematics
in both the great branches of the Greek Geometry
and the modern Analysis — recommending it by a
contemplation of such lives as those of Simson and
D'Alembert.

Chateau Eleanor- Loitise, Provence,
5th January, 1846

PREFACE. IX

. — Upon my return to this country at the
opening of the Session, I read over the Life of Adam
Smith, and the Analysis of his great work, which had
been written last autumn, at a time when I never
could have expected the present practical discussion
of the Corn Laws to come on before the work should
be published. The observations delivered on that
question, and the whole doctrine of Free Trade,
were, therefore, prepared without any view to the
controversy now going on; and I fear their tenor
will not give muck satisfaction to any party. My
opinion is well known upon the subject; and that I
neither expect any thing like the good which some
hope, nor apprehend any thing like the evil which
others dread, from the proposed alterations in the
law, while of those alterations I highly approve.
But I have resolved to publish the Life and the
Analytical Yiew, without the least alteration or
addition, exactly as it was written during the calm
of the last year ; giving it as a treatise upon a sub-
ject of science, composed with only the desire to dis-
cover or to expound the truth, and without any view
to the interests of any Party.

I am truly happy to announce my hope that a
fuller Life of Sir J. Banks, being in such excellent
hands as those of Mr. Dawson Turner, of Great
Yarmouth, will be finished by that much and justly
respected gentleman.

London, March 2lst, 1846.

( xi )

CONTENTS.

Page

JOHNSON . 1

ADAM SMITH 86

LAVOISIER . . . 227

GIBBON . . 277

SIR JOSEPH BANKS . . . 336

D'ALEMBERT . . . 391

ADDITIONAL APPENDIX TO THE LIVES OP SIR JOSEPH BANKS

AND ADAM SMITH ... . 502

NOTE ON THE LIVES OP CAVENDISH, WATT, AND BLACK . 507

ERRATA.

Page 344, line 2 from bottom, for " parallax," read " horizontal parallax."
,, 407, ,, 2, for "the body," read " a fixed body."
,, 410, ,, 'A, for "flo," read " dr."

,, ' "dN" , "dN"
„ 418, „ 13,/or — read —
ay due

„ 424, „ 4, for "1740," read "1747."

,, ,, ,, 9, for " distance," read " disturbance."

,, 426, ,, 20, for " (M«" rearf " (A*"

,, 428, ,, 21, same correction.

„ 431, ,, 8, /or "rate," read "ratio."

,, 436, „ 24, /or "at," read "as."

., 451, ,, 1, /or " accurate," read " inaccurate."

PUBLIC LIP

ASM
TILD hi .

J. Brown..

,,

2 JOHNSON.

tbrian figuring always in the group with his more stern
idol, affording relief, by contrast, to the picture of the
sage, and amusing with his own harmless foibles, which
he takes a pleasure in revealing, as if he shared the gra-
tification he was preparing for his unknown reader. His
cleverness, his tact, his skill in drawing forth those he
was studying, his admirable good humour, his strict love
of truth, his high and generous principle, his kindness
towards his friends, his unvarying but generally rational
piety, have scarcely been sufficiently praised by those
who nevertheless have been always ready, as needs they
must be, to acknowledge the debt of gratitude due for
perhaps the book of all that were ever written, the most
difficult to lay down once it has been taken up. To the
great work of Mr. Boswell, may be added some portions
of Sir John Hawkins's far inferior, and much less accurate
biography ; the amusing but also somewhat careless
anecdotes of Mrs. Piozzi, formerly Mrs. Thrale, and above
all, the two interesting works of Madame D'Arblay, the
celebrated Miss Burney, her own autobiography, and the
life of her father. These works, but the two last
especially, abound in important additions to that of
Mr. Boswell; and what relates to Dr. Johnson certainly
forms the principal value of them both"".

* We must, however, not pass over the light, somewhat lurid it
must be owned, which the autobiography sheds on the habits and
effects of a court life ; the dreadful prostration of the understanding
which may be seen to arise among at least the subordinate figures of
the courtly group. I own that I cannot conceive this to be the
universally resembling picture. My own experience and observa-
tion of many years, some of them passed in near connexion with our
court, leads me to this conclusion. It must be added in extenuation
of the absurdities so often laughed at in Boswell, that this amiable

JOHNSON. 3

In estimating the merits of Johnson, prejudices of a
very powerful nature have too generally operated un-
favourably to the cause of truth. The strongly marked
features of his mind were discernible in the vehemence
of his opinions both on political and religious subjects ;
he was a high tory, and a high churchman in all contro-
versies respecting the state ; he was under the habitual
influence of his religious impressions, and leant decidedly
in favour of the system established and protected by law.
He treated those whose opinions had an opposite inclina-
tion, with little tolerance and no courtesy ; and hence
while these undervalued his talents and his acquirements,
those with whom he so cordially agreed, were apt to
overrate both. To this must be added, two accidental
circumstances, from which were derived exaggerated opin-
ions, both of his merits and his defects ; the extravagant
admiration of the little circle in which he lived producing
a reaction among all beyond it ; and the vehement na-
tional prejudices under which he laboured, if indeed he
did not cherish and indulge them, prejudices that made
his own countrymen prone to exalt, and strangers as
prone to decry both his understanding and his knowledge.
On one point, however, there is never likely to be any
difference of opinion. While the exercise of his judgment
will by all be allowed to have been disturbed by his pre-
judices, the strength of his faculties will be admitted by

author furnishes quite her fair proportion of the matter of ridicule.
Such weakness as marks many of her sentiments, such deeply seated
vanity as pervades the whole, not only of her own, but of her father's
memoirs, which are in truth an autobiography as much as a life of
him, cannot certainly be surpassed, if they can be matched, in the less
deliberate effusions of Mr. Boswell's avowed self-esteem.

B 2

4 JOHNSON.

all ; and no one is likely to deny that he may justly be
ranked among the most remarkable men of his age, even
if we regard the works which he has left, but much more
if we consider the resources of his conversation. This
must be the result of a calm and candid review of his
history, after all due allowance shall be made for the
undoubted effects of manner and singularity in exalting
the impression of both his writings and his talk.

Samuel Johnson was born 18th of September, 1709,
at Lichfield, where his father, originally from Derby-
shire, was a bookseller and stationer in a small way of
business. His mother was of a yeoman's family named
Ford, for many generations settled in Warwickshire. He
inherited from his father a large and robust bodily frame,
with a disposition towards melancholy and hypochon-
driacism, which proved the source of wretchedness to him
through life. From his nurse he is supposed (though
probably it was hereditary too,) to have caught a scro-
fulous disorder, of whose ravages he always bore the
scars, which deprived him of the sight of one eye, and
which, under the influence of the vulgar supposition so
long prevalent, made his parents bring him to London
that he might be touched by Queen Anne. His father
was a man of respectable character and good abilities ;
and while he devoted himself to his trade, frequenting
various parts of the country to sell his books, he seems to
have had much pleasure in the diffusion of knowledge,
and to have been himself knowing in several branches
of ordinary learning. His mother was uneducated, but
had a strong natural understanding, and a deep sense of
religion, which she early instilled into her son. There
was only one other child, a younger brother, who followed

JOHNSON. 5

the father's business, and died at the age of five-and-
tweuty. The family were of strong high church prin-
ciples, and continued through all fortunes attached to the
House of Stuart.

Johnson at a very early age shewed abilities far above
those of his comrades. His quickness of apprehension
made learning exceedingly easy to him, and he had an
extraordinary power of memory, which stood by him
through life. His school companions well remembered
in after life his great superiority over them all ; they
would relate how when only six or seven years old, he
used to help them in their tasks as well as to amuse them
by his jokes, and his narratives, and how they were wont
to carry him of a morning to school, attending him in a
kind of triumph. The seminary in which he was edu-
cated for several years after, was Mr. Hunter's, and
although he always considered the severity of that
teacher as excessive, he yet candidly admitted that but
for the strict discipline maintained, he should never have
learnt much ; for his nature was extremely indolent
owing to his feeble spirits and broken health, and his
habits of application were then, as ever after, very de-
sultory and irregular. The school was, moreover, famous
for a succession of ushers and schoolmasters hardly
equalled in any other ; six or seven who attained emi-
nence in after life, all about the time of Johnson, having
either taught or learnt under Mr. Hunter.

In his fifteenth year he went to Mr. Westworth's
school at Stourbridge by the advice of his maternal cousin,
Mr. Ford, a clergyman represented as of better capacity
than life ; and after a year passed there to no good pur-
pose, he returned to Lichfield, where he whiled away his

6 JOHNSON.

time for two years and upwards, reading, in a desultory'
manner, whatever books came in his way ; a habit which
clung to him through life, insomuch that fond as he was
of poetry, he confessed that he never had read any one
poem to an end. The result, however, of the time thus
spent, and of his very retentive memory, was his ac-
quiring a variety of knowledge exceedingly rare in very
young men, and becoming acquainted with many writers
whose works are little read by any one.

In 1728, being in his nineteenth year, he was sent to
Oxford, and entered of Pembroke College. His father's
circumstances were so narrow that this step never could
have been taken without the prospect of some assist-
ance from his friends ; and as few men who raise them-
selves from humble beginnings are found very anxious
to claim the praise which all are so ready to bestow, so
we find among the biographers of Johnson, a reluctance
of the same kind, with respect to their hero, and a dis-
position to involve in obscurity, the contribution which
must have been made to his college education. Mr.
Corbet, a gentleman of Shropshire, is supposed by Sir
John Hawkins to have supported him for the first year
as his son's teacher ; though this is denied by Mr. Bos-
well, who yet admits his father's inability to maintain
him at Oxford. Some gentlemen of the cathedral at
Lichfield afterwards contributed to his support. But
that he suffered much from poverty during the time
of his residence is certain ; and his inability to attend
some course of instruction -which he greatly wished to
follow, from the want of fit shoes, is a fact related by
those who remarked his feet appearing through those he
wore, and who also have recorded his proud refusal

JOHNSON. 7

of assistance while in such distress. The pecuniary dif-
ficulties of his father increasing, or the aid of his friends
being withdrawn, he could not longer remain at college,
even in that poor condition ; and after three years' resi-
dence he was under the necessity of retiring to Lichfield
without taking a degree. But his veneration for the
University, and above all, his love for Pembroke, remained
by him ever after. When noting the numb IT of poets
who had belonged to it, he would cry out with exulta-
tion, " Sir, we are a nest of singing birds ;" and to the
latest period of his life, his choicest relaxation was to
repair from London and pass a few days at the Master's
Lodge.

During his residence, he passed the periods of vaca-
tion at Lichfield ; and there is something peculiarly dis-
tressing in the account handed down, and indeed pro-
ceeding chiefly from himself, of the wretchedness which he
suffered about this early age, in consequence of his morbid
state of mind. The first of the violent attacks of hypo-
chondria which he experienced was in 1 729, in his twen-
tieth year ; and it seized upon him with such irritation
and fretfulness, with such dejection and gloom, that he
described his existence as a misery. The judgment
appears never to have been clouded, nor the imagination
to have acquired greater power over the reason, than to
impress him with fearful apprehensions of insanity ; for
he never was under anything resembling delusion ; and
although a torpor of the faculties would often supervene,
insomuch that there were days when he said he could
not exert himself so as to tell the hour upon the town
clock, yet even while suffering severely he had the power
of drawing up a most clear, acute, and elegant account

JOHNSON.

of his disease in Latin for the opinion of his godfather,
Dr. Swinfen, who was so much struck with it, that he,
perhaps indiscreetly, shewed it to others ; an act never
forgiven by the author. He had recourse to various
expedients to drive away this frightful malady, but in
vain. Sometimes he would take violent bodily exercise,
walking to Birmingham and back again ; sometimes, but
this was rather at a late period, he had recourse to
drinking ; and though he never admitted that this
resource failed entirely, yet it may be presumed it did,
both because such a practice always exacerbates the mis-
chief in others, and because he for many years of his
life entirely gave up the use of fermented liquors. He
attained by experience some little control over the
disease, probably by steering a judicious course between
idleness and overwork, by being moderate in the enjoy-
ment of sleep, and by attention to diet. But he never
at any period of his long life was free from the infliction,
so that melancholy was the general habit, and its remis-
sion was only by intervals comparatively short. What
haunted him was the dread of insanity ; and he was ever
accustomed to regard his malady as a partial visitation
of that dreadful calamity. He never believed himself
deranged, but he never hesitated both in writing and
speaking to call his mental disease by the name of mad-
ness without any circumlocution, though he only meant
to express that it was a morbid affection.

The accounts which we have, and also upon his own
authority, of his early religious history, are interesting.
Although his mother's precepts and example gave him as
strong a bias towards religion as most children can have,
yet he considered her to have somewhat overdone her

JOHNSON.

work, especially by requiring the Sabbath to be spent in
" heaviness," in confinement, and in reading the ' Whole
Duty of Man', which neither interested nor attracted him.
From nine to fourteen years of age he was wholly indif-
ferent to sacred subjects, and had a great reluctance to
attend the service of the Church. From that time till
he went to Oxford, five years later, he was a general
" talker against religion," as he described himself, " for
he did not much think against it." At Oxford he took
up Law's ' Serious Call to a Holy Life,' expecting to find
a subject of ridicule ; but he " found Law quite an over-
match for him," and from that time his belief was unin-
terrupted, and even strong. The nature of his melan-
choly, and the hardships of his life, worked with his con-
victions to make him place his reliance upon a future
state of happiness, and few men have perhaps ever lived
in whose thoughts religion had a larger or more practical
share.

"While at Oxford his reading continued to be desul-
tory, though extensive, and his College tutor being a
person of amiable character, but moderate endowments,
he was left much to himself in the conduct of his studies.
The only application which he appears to have given was
to Greek, and his attention even here was confined to
Homer and Euripides. Before he came to College he
had exercised himself much in writing verses, and espe-
cially in translating from the Latin ; the specimens which
remain shew sufficiently his command of both languages,
and their closeness is worthy of praise. His translation
of Pope's ' Messiah' into Latin verse has been much com-
mended, and by Pope himself among others ; but John-
son never regarded it as possessing any value. Pope's

10 JOHNSON.

observation was indeed highly laudatory. " The writer
of this Poem," said he, " will leave it doubtful in after-
times which was the original, his verses or mine."

On his return to Lichfield he found his father's affairs
in a state of hopeless insolvency ; and before the end of
the year (1731) he died. A few months more were
spent in the place; and he frequented now, as he had
done before, a circle of excellent provincial society, of
which accomplished and well-bred women of family formed
an important part. The accounts of his conversation at
this time all agree in representing it as intelligent, but
modest ; his manner awkward enough as far as regarded
external qualities, but civilized ; and his whole demeanour
free from that roughness and even moroseness which it
afterwards acquired, partly from living much alone during
his struggles for subsistence, partly from the effects of
his mental and nervous malady ; in no little degree, also,
from the habit of living in a small circle of meek and
submissive worshippers.

In the summer of 1732 he accepted an appointment
as usher to a school at Market Bosworth ; but to the
labour of teaching he never could inure himself ; and it
was rendered more intolerable by the duty which devolved
upon him of acting as kind of lay-chaplain to Sir Walter
Dixie, the patron of the school, a situation in which lie
was treated with haughtiness and even harshness. To
the few months which he thus passed he ever after looked
back, not merely with aversion, but with a kind of horror.
He now removed to Birmingham, where he was
employed by Warren, a bookseller, and the first who
settled in that great town. He carried on a newspaper
in which Johnson wrote, who also translated from the

JOHNSON. 1 1

French Father Lobo's 'Voyage to Abyssinia/ This work
has been carefully examined, to discover if any traces
can be perceived of his peculiar style; but nothing of
the kind appears. The preface, however, is as com-
pletely clothed in his diction as any of his subsequent
productions ; and shews that he had then, in his twenty-
fifth year, formed the habit of sturdily thinking for
himself and rejecting all marvellous stories, at least in
secular matters, which ever after distinguished him, as
well as of tersely and epigramniatically expressing his
thoughts. Mr. Boswell and Mr. Burke examined this
piece together, and the following portion of the passage
on which they pitched as a proof of his early maturity
in that manner may serve to gratify the reader, and to
prove the truth of the foregoing remark.

"This Traveller has consulted his senses and not his

imagination. He meets with no basilisks that destroy

with their eyes; his crocodiles devour their prey without

tears; and his cataracts fall from the rocks without

deafening the neighbouring inhabitants. The reader will

here find no regions cursed with irremediable barrenness

or blessed with spontaneous fecundity ; no perpetual gloom

or unceasing sunshine ; nor are the natives here described

either devoid of all sense of humanity or consummate in

all private or social virtues. Here are no Hottentots

without religious piety or articulable language, no

Chinese perfectly polite and completely skilled in all

sciences; he will discover what will always be discovered

by a diligent and impartial enquirer, that where human

nature is to be found, there is a mixture of vice and

virtue, a contest of passion and reason ; and that the

Creator doth not appear partial in his distributions, but

12 JOHNSON.

has balanced in most countries their particular incon-
veniences by particular favours."

For the next three years he lived between Birming-
ham and Lichfield, and having formed the acquaintance
of Mr. Porter, a mercer in the latter town, he became,
after his decease, attached to his widow, whom he
married in the summer of 1736. She is described as of
vulgar and affected manners, and of a person not merely
without attraction but repulsive, plain in her features,
which, though naturally florid, she loaded with red paint
as well as refreshed with cordials, large in her stature,
and disposed to corpulence. To this picture drawn by
Garrick, one of her friends has added, that she was a
person of good understanding and great sentimentality,
with a disposition towards sarcasm ; and it is certain that
the empire over her husband, which occasioned their
marriage, subsisted to her decease, sixteen years after,
and so far survived her that he continued for the rest of
his life to offer up prayers for her soul, beside ever
keeping the day of her death as a fast with pious
veneration.

As she brought him but a few hundred pounds of
fortune, her husband having died insolvent, it was
necessary that the imprudence of the match should be
compensated by some exertion to obtain a living. They
therefore opened an Academy at Edial, near Lichfield;
but only three pupils presented themselves, of whom
Garrick and his brother were two; and after a few
months of vainly waiting for more, Johnson and Garrick
set forward to try their fortune in London, whither Mrs.
Johnson followed him some months later.

It was in the Spring of 1737 that he came to reside

JOHNSON. 13

in London ; and he now entered upon a life of as com-
plete dependence on literary labour as is to be found in
the history of letters. No man ever was more an author
by profession than he appears to have been for a quarter
of a century ; and he suffered during that period all the
evils incident to that precarious employment. Of these
the principal certainly is, that there being no steady
demand for the productions of the pen, the author is
perpetually obliged to find out subjects on which he may
be employed, and to entice employers : thus, unlike most
other labourers, stimulating the demand as well as fur-
nishing the supply. Hence we find Johnson constantly
suggesting works on which he is willing to be employed,
and often failing to obtain the concurrence of his pub-
lisher. For some years, before he had left Lichfield, he
had made unsuccessful attempts of this kind. A pro-
posal to publish Politian's Latin Poems was printed by
him in 1734, in conjunction with his brother, who had
succeeded to his father's shop. Notes on the history of
Modern Latin Poetry and a life of Politian were to be
subjoined; but, as might be easily foreseen, this project
met with no kind of encouragement. Indeed it would
hardly succeed in our own times as a speculation for
profit to the author. The success of the ' Gentleman's
Magazine' next seems to have struck him as affording
the hope of a connexion with Mr. Cave, its conductor;
and to him he addressed a letter under a feigned
name, proposing to write articles the subjects of which
he thought he could suggest so as to benefit the work,
hinting also at other literary schemes which he was
prepared to unfold "if he could be secure from having
others reap the advantage of what he should suggest."

14 JOHNSON.

But it does not appear, though Cave answered the letter,
that his reply was so favourable as to produce any result.
Upon settling in London, however, he propitiated that
respectable publisher with some very middling sapphics
in his praise, which were inserted in the Magazine, and
he was from thenceforth employed pretty regularly in
writing criticisms, biographies, and other papers, so that
for many years this miscellany formed the principal source
of his slender income. He, however, eked it out with other
occasional writings. A new translation was undertaken
at his suggestion by Dodsley and Cave, of Father Paul's
celebrated 'History,' with Le Courayer's Notes, which had
been recently added to the French edition. It appears that
Johnson was paid in small sums, about fifty pounds, on
account of this work, which was given up in consequence
of another being announced, and, by a singular coinci-
dence, also the production of a Samuel Johnson, who
was patronized by the Clergy. He, moreover, wrote
prefaces to different books, and, soon after he settled in
London, he published the admirable translation of Juve-
nal's Third Satire, entitled 'London/ which at once gave
him a high place among the poets of the day. It was
followed some years later by the 'Vanity of Human
Wishes,' an Imitation of the Tenth. It is known that
Pope at once expressed his hearty admiration of the
'London' in no measured terms, feeling none of the petty
jealousy which might have been occasioned by the fickle
multitude's exclamation, " Here is arisen an obscure poet
greater than Pope ;" his remark was, " Depend upon it,
he will soon be drawn out from his retreat."

Nothing can be more painful than to contemplate
the struggles in which these years of his penury were

JOHNSON. 15

0

passed, more especially the earlier ones, after he lived in
London. He dined at a boarding-house or ordinary for
eight pence, including a penny which he allowed the
servant. The tone of his correspondence with Cave ever
and anon lets his wants appear. One letter subscribed
with his name, has the significant, it is to be feared the
literary word, impransus, prefixed to the signature.
Another in 1742, while the Fra Paolo was going on,
mentions his having "received money on this work,
13/. 2s. 6d., reckoning the half guinea of last Saturday."
In the postscript he adds, "If you could spare me
another guinea I should take it very kindly, but if not I
shall not think it an injury." All the little valuables,
including a small silver cup and spoon given him by his
mother when he was brought up to be touched for the
evil, were offered for sale, to buy necessaries in the press-
ing wants of himself and his wife, and the spoon only
was kept. Nay, an affecting anecdote is furnished by
Mr. Harte, author of Gustavus Adolphus's Life, that
having dined with Cave and commended one of Johnson's
writings, Cave afterwards told him how happy it had
made the author to hear him thus express himself.
" How can that be," said Harte, " when there were only
our two selves present 1" " Yes," said Cave, " but you
might observe a plate with victuals sent from the table.
Johnson was behind the screen, where he ate it, being too
meanly dressed to appear." It is truly afflicting to
think that the work thus praised was his beautiful poem
of ' London/ The penury too in which he existed seems
to have long survived the obscurity of his earlier life in
London. As late as 1759, after he had been two-and-
twe»ty years in the world of letters, and had attained great

1 6 JOHNSON.

eminence as an author in several of its provinces, while
his mother was on her death-bed, he had to borrow
of his printer six of the twelve guineas he sent to supply
her pressing wants ; and in the evenings of the week
after her decease, he wrote his 'Rasselas,' in order to defray
the expenses of her funeral and discharge a few debts
which she had left. He received a hundred pounds
for it.

Nor must it be forgotten that to these miseries, the
general lot of the literary man's life, was added in John-
son's the far worse suffering from his constitutional com-
plaint, a suffering bad enough in itself if the companion
of ease and of affluence, but altogether intolerable when
it weighs down the spirits and the faculties of him whose
mental labour must contribute to the supply of his bodily
wants. The exertion, no doubt, when once made, is the
best medicine for the disease ; but it is the peculiar
operation of the disease to render all such exertion pain-
ful in the extreme, to make the mind recoil from it, and
render the intellectual powers both torpid and sluggish,
when a painful effort has put them in motion. I speak
with some confidence on a subject which accident has
enabled me to study in the case of one with whom I was
well acquainted for many years ; and who either outlived
the malady, which in him was hereditary, or obtained a
power over it by constant watchfulness, diligent care, and
a fixed resolution to conquer it. As in Johnson's case, it
was remittent, but also periodical, a thing not mentioned
of Johnson's ; for in my friend's case it recurred at inter-
vals, first of six months, then of a year, afterwards of two
and three years, until it ceased ; and the duration of the
attack was never more than of eight or ten months.. It

JOHNSON. 1 7

seemed wholly unconnected with bodily complaint,
though it appeared to interfere with the functions of the
alimentary canal ; and it was relieved by strict attention
to diet, and by great temperance in all particulars. There
was, as in Johnson's case, no kind of delusion, nor any
undue action of the imagination ; but unlike his, it was
wholly unattended with apprehensions or fears of any
kind. There was also no disposition to indulgence of
any kind except of sleep ; and a particular aversion to
the excitement of fermented liquors, the use of which
indeed never failed to exacerbate the malady, as Johnson,
too, from his confession to Mr. Boswell, appears to have
found, after trying them in vain to alleviate his suffering.
The senses were not at all more dull than usual, and
there was as much relish both of physical and mental
enjoyment. But the seat of the disease being in the
mind, and in the mind wholly, independent of and
unaffected by any external circumstances, good fortune
produced no exhilaration, afflictions no additional depres-
sion. The attack commenced sometimes suddenly, that
is, in a few days, and not seldom was foretold by dream-
ing that it had begun. The course was this. The active
powers were first affected; all the exertions of the will
becoming more painful and more difficult. This inertness
next extended itself and crept over the intellectual facul-
ties, the exercise of which became more distasteful and
their operations more sluggish; but the results, though
demanding more time, were in no respect of inferior
quality. Indeed, the patient used sometimes to say that
when time was of no importance, the work was better,
though much more painfully done. The exertions reso-
lutely made and steadily persevered in, seemed gradually

c

1 8 JOHNSON.

to undermine the disease, and each effort rendered the
succeeding one less difficult. But before he became so
well acquainted with the cure, and made little or no
exertion, passing the time in reading only, the recovery
took place nearly in the same manner as afterwards
under a more severe regimen, only that he has told me
that to this regimen he ascribed his ultimate cure after
obtaining a constantly increasing prolongation of the
healthy intervals. The recovery of the mind's tone
always took place in the reverse order to the loss of it ;
first the power returned before the will ; or the faculties
were restored to their vigour, before the desire of exerting
them had come back. It is much to be lamented that
no one examined Dr. Johnson more minutely respecting his
complaint ; for he never showed any disposition to conceal
the particulars of it. The sad experience which he had of
its effects appears frequently to have been in his thoughts
when writing; and it can, I conceive, be more parti-
cularly traced in his account of Collins,""" whose disease
became so greatly aggravated that he was placed under
restraint. The malady in Johnson appears never to have
reached to so great a height as in the case of Collins;
and indeed of Sir Isaac Newton, who was also subject to
it, and whose faculties at one period of his illustrious life
it entirely clouded over.f Chance having thrown in my

* See ' Lives of the Poets/ vol. iv.

t Some controversy has arisen on this subject, occasioned by M.
Biot's statement, (in his Biography of Newton,) taken from
Huyghens, who had it from Collins. There is also a partial con-
firmation in Abraham de la Pryne's ' Diary,' and in Babington's
' Letters.' -But I found among Locke's papers twenty years ago, a
letter which seems to leave no doubt on the subject. Newton had
written a letter to Locke, accusing himself (Newton) of having

JOHNSON. 1 9

way the case above described, I have thought it right
to record it for the benefit of those who may be similarly
afflicted ; and if any one who may be suffering under it
is desirous of further information, I believe I shall be able
to procure it. Dr. Baillie was at one time consulted, but
declared that the mental and bodily regimen which had
been adopted, were the best that occurred to him; only
he strongly recommended horse exercise, and an absti-
nence from hard work of all kinds, neither of which
prescriptions, as I have since understood, were followed.
He had once known a case much resembling this, and
which also terminated favourably, by the disease, as it
were, wearing itself out.

While Johnson was carrying on manfully and inde-
pendently and even proudly this arduous struggle, in-
duced by the natural desire of obtaining some less pre-
carious employment which might suffice for his support, he
listened to an offer of the mastership of Appleby Gram-
mar School, in Staffordshire. The salary was only sixty
pounds a year, but he would gladly have accepted this
with the labour of teaching, however hateful to him, that
he might escape from the drudgery and the uncertainties
of a poor author's life. Unfortunately the rules of the
foundation required that the master should have the
degree of M.A., and after a fruitless attempt through
Lord Gower to obtain this from the University of Dublin,

thought and spoke ill of him, and asking his pardon. Locke imme-
diately answered it in a letter which has been much and justly
admired. Newton replies, that he cannot conceive to what Locke
alludes, as he has no recollection of having written to him ; but adds
that for some time past he had been out of health owing to a bad
habit of sleeping after dinner.

C ^

20 JOHNSON.

he was forced to abandon the scheme. This took place
in 1739; and when the attempt failed, he made another
effort equally unsuccessful to practise as an advocate in
Doctors' Commons, the want of a still higher degree
proving there an insuperable obstacle.

Among his contributions to the 'Gentleman's Magazine'
are the accounts which he drew up of the debates in
Parliament. They were given as proceedings in the
" Senate of Lilliput ;" the squeamislmess of parliamentary
privilege men, even in those days, not permitting them to
suffer an open violation of the Standing Orders, which
their courage would not let them enforce. During the
three years 1740, 1741, and 1742, he carried on this
alone, obtaining only such help or hints as he coidd pick
up from frequenting a coffee-house in the neighbourhood
of the two Houses, and from original communications
made by the speakers themselves. The style of the
whole is plainly Johnson's own, and so was by far the
greater part of the matter. The supposed speech of
Lord Chatham, in answer to Horatio Walpole's attack on
his youth, is entirely Johnson's, as every reader must
perceive, and as he never affected to deny. Yet the
public were, for a while, deceived ; and as soon as he dis-
covered that these compositions passed for genuine, he
at once gave them up, being resolved that he should be
no party to a deception. Mr. Boswell says (I. 128),
that a short time before his death, he "expressed his
regret at having been the author of fictions which had
passed for realities." It is singular enough that any
person pretending to write on such subjects should have
had the simplicity to praise Johnson for the success with
he had " exhibited the manner of each particular

JOHNSON. 21

speaker" — there being no manner exhibited in any of the
speeches, except one, and that the peculiar manner of
Dr. Johnson.

During the first five years of his residence in London
he appears to have associated more with Savage than
with any other person ; and this connection, the result
of that unfortunate, but dissipated, and indeed reckless
individual's agreeable qualities, was the only part of his
life upon which Johnson had any occasion to look back
with shame; though, so permanent was the fascination
under which he was laid by the talents and the know-
ledge of high life which he found, or fancied he found, in
his companion, that he never would own his delusion —
never, perhaps, sufficiently felt the regret he ought to
have experienced for the aberration. The idle, listless
habits of the man accorded well with his own ; their
distresses were nearly equal, though the one seemed
degraded from the station he was born to, while the
other was only unfortunate in not having yet reached
that which he was by his merits entitled to. Irregular
habits, impatience of steady industry, unequal animal
spirits, a subsistence altogether depending on their own
casual exertions — and altogether precarious, had these
exertions been far more sustained — were common to
them both. The love of drinking was much more
Savage's vice than Johnson's, though, under the influence
of his own malady and his friend's example, he soon fell
into it, without, however, indulging in so great excesses.
But the laxity of the poet's principles, and his profligate
habits, made an inroad on the moralist's purity of con-
duct, for which his temperament certainly paved the
way ; the testimony of his provincial friends to the

22 JOHNSON.

chastity of his private life, has not been echoed by those
who knew him in London ; and Mr. Boswell has delicately,
but pointedly described those "indulgences as having
occasioned much distress to his virtuous mind" (I. 143).
When we are told that he would often roam the streets
with Savage after a debauch, which had exhausted their
means of finding a bed for the night, and which, when
the weather proved inclement, drove them to warm them-
selves by the smouldering ashes of a glass-house — when
we reflect that this companion had not been reclaimed
from such courses by killing a man in a brawl arising
immediately out of a night thus spent — when we consider
that one so poor must have sought the indulgences so
plainly indicated by his biographer, his all but adoring
biographer, in their more scrupulous form — and when to
all this is added the recollection (foreign to Savage's
history) that Johnson was a married man, with whom
affection only had made a virtuous woman share the
poorest of lots — surely we may be permitted to marvel
at the intolerance with which the defects of others were,
during the rest of his days, ever beheld by him, as if he
M-as making a compensation for his own conduct by want
of charity to his neighbours. But, above all, have we a
right to complain that the associate of Savage, the com-
panion of his debauches, should have presumed to insult
men of such pure minds as David Hume and Adam
Smith — rudely refusing to bear them company but for an
instant, merely because he regarded the sceptical opinions
of the one with horror, and could not forgive the other
for being his friend.

Savage died in prison at Bristol, miserably as he had
lived, July, 1748, in his forty-sixth year. He had been

JOHNSON. 23

arrested for a debt of eiglit pounds. Many who knew
him were willing to subscribe for his relief ; his wayward
temper induced him to choose this moment for writing a
satire on the place where his friends resided ; and he
expired, after six months' confinement, not without the
suspicion that a letter from Pope, taxing him, as he said,
unjustly, with great ingratitude, had brought on the fever
of which he died. Johnson was not a man whose friend-
ship for any person, however misplaced, or admiration of
his talents, however exaggerated beyond the truth, would
cease when he was laid low ; and he immediately set
about exhibiting both in that 'Life/ which has been the
object of so much admiration, and which certainly has all
the merits, with most of the defects that belong to his
style, both of thinking and of writing. The plain lan-
guage in which he accused Savage's mother, Lady Maccles-
field, after her divorce married to Colonel Brett, of
unnatural cruelty to her son, of scandalous licentiousness,
nay, of attempts to cause the death of the child whose only
fault towards her was his being the living evidence of an
adultery which she herself avowed, in order to annul her
first marriage, can hardly be supposed to have been
suffered, at a time when all libels were so severely dealt
with by the parties attacked and by the Courts ; but the
reason probably was, that one of the charges was
notoriously admitted by the person accused, and the
blacker imputation could not have been denied without
reviving the memory of the scandal in which the whole
had its origin.*

* One passage in the 'Life' seems to dare and defy her. After
charging her with "endeavouring to destroy her son by a lie, in a

24 JOHNSON.

At the time of his associating with Savage the circle

o O

of Johnson's acquaintance was very limited, and those
whom he knew were in humble circumstances. One
exception is afforded in Mr. Hervey, son of Lord Bristol,
of whom he always spoke with admiration and esteem,
although he admitted the profligacy of his friend's life.
Mr. Hervey left the army and went into the church ;
nor can it be doubted that his pleasing manners, the
talents, which like all his race he possessed, and his
familiarity with the habits of high life, formed an attrac-
tion which Johnson could not at any time resist. " Call a
dog, Hervey," he would say, "and I shall love him.""""
The friendship which, soon after his removal to London,
he formed with Reynolds, can scarcely be reckoned a
second exception; for at that time Sir Joshua's cir-
cumstances were so little above his own, that an anecdote
is preserved of some ladies, at whose house the author
and the artist happened to meet, feeling much discon-
certed by the arrival of a Duchess while " they were in
such company." Johnson, perceiving their embarrass-

manuer unaccountable, except that the most execrable crimes are
sometimes committed without apparent temptation," he adds, " This
mother is still alive, and may perhaps even yet, though her malice
was so often defeated, enjoy the pleasure of reflecting that the life
which she so often endeavoured to take away was at least shortened
by her unnatural offences." She must have been near seventy at
this time, and the chief scandal of her life had been fifty years
before.

* The persons described by his black servant as most about him
some years later, and when he h;id extended his acquaintance, were
Williams, an apothecary, with whom he used to dine every Sunday,
Mrs. Masters, a poetess, that lived in Cave's house, some booksellers
and printers, and copyists, one or two authoresses, and Mrs. Gardner,
the wife of a tallow chandler.

JOHNSON. 25

ment and offended with it, took his revenge by affecting
to be a common mechanic, and asking Reynolds " how
much he thought they could earn in a week if they
wrought to their utmost."

The ordinary literary labour of his life in magazines,
reviews, prefaces, and smaller essays, for the booksellers,
in correcting the works of authors, and even superin-
tending the press for publishers, appears to have been,
during these five-and-twenty years, carried on almost
like a trade, and without any scruples as to receiving
the most humble remuneration. Thus, on one occasion,
he received from Dodsley a guinea for writing a pro-
spectus to a new weekly paper; and on another he
praised the generosity of some Irish dignitary, who gave
him ten guineas for correcting a bad poem, in which he
blotted out many lines, and might, he said, have blotted
many more. Beside the more regular employment of
the 'Gentleman's Magazine/ he wrote a number of articles
for the 'Literary Magazine/ in 1756; among others his
review of Soame Jenyns on the 'Origin of Evil/ reckoned,
and justly, one of his happiest performances, perhaps his
best prose work, and which stands high in the first class
of severe, but not unjust criticisms. But his humbler
labours during this period were relieved by works of a
much higher order, one of which, the 'London/ has been
mentioned. In 1749 he produced his imitation of the
Tenth Satire, under the title of the 'Vanity of Human
Wishes/ and greatly extended his poetical reputation by
that admirable piece. The price paid for the copyright,
however, did not exceed fifteen guineas. Nor indeed
could a work of such moderate size easily obtain a large
remuneration.

26 JOHNSON.

In the spring of the same year his friend Garrick
having become manager of Drury Lane Theatre, he
brought out for him 'Irene/ a tragedy, which had been
begun at Lichfield, and was finished afterwards partly in
London, partly at Greenwich, where he resided for some
time. Its success was only moderate ; for an awkward
incident happened on the first night, when the audience
positively refused to let the heroine be strangled on the
stage, crying out " murder," in a tone that made it
necessary to omit the execution, or at least let it take
place behind the scenes ; and although the zealous
friendship of the manager obtained for it nine nights of
representation, the play then at once dropped, being
found wholly deficient in dramatic interest, perhaps too,
a little tiresome from the sameness of its somewhat
heavy and certainly monotonous diction. Slender as
was this success, it had been much smaller still but for
many alterations on which Garrick insisted. These were
vehemently resisted by the author, with a want of sense
and of ordinary reflexion exceedingly unnatural to one
of his excellent understanding, and who might easily
have seen how very far superior the practical skill and
sense of Garrick must be to his own on such subjects.
It became even necessary to call in the mediation of a
friend, and after all, several requisite changes were not
made. However, the benefit of three nights' profits was
thus, by the rules of the stage, secured to the author, and
the copyright being sold to his friend Dodsley produced
him a hundred pounds more. A ludicrous folly of his
occurred when this play was first brought out ; he must
needs appear in a handsome dress, with a scarlet and
gold-laced waistcoat, and a gold-laced hat, not only

JOHNSON. 27

behind the scenes but in the side boxes, from an absurd
notion that some such finery was suited to a dramatic
author. Certainly, if the feelings of the house in that
day resembled those of our own times, this proceeding
considerably increased the risk which he ran from his
plot, his Terse, and his bowstring. A pleasant story is
related of his shewing the first two acts of his tragedy
to a friend of his settled at Lichfield, and holding an
office in the Consistory there, Mr. Walmsley, a man
of much learning, and who being greatly his superior
in age as well as station, had patronised him in his
early years. When he made the natural objection,
that the heroine was already as much overwhelmed
with distress as she well could be in the result,
"Can't I," asked Johnson archly, "put her in the
spiritual court T

The 'Rambler' was another of the more permanently
known works with which this ever active period of his
life was diversified. It was published twice a-week
during the years 1750 and 1751. The 'Idler,' a similar
work, appeared in Newbury's ' Universal Chronicle,' a
weekly paper, in 1758 and 1759. Both these works
were conducted by Johnson with hardly any assistance
from the contributions of friends ; and the papers were
written with extraordinary facility, being generally finished
each at one sitting, and sent to the press without even
being read over by the author. It is indeed related of
the ' Idler,' that being at Oxford when a paper was re-
quired, he asked how long it was before the post went,
and being told half an hour, he said, " Then we shall do
very well ;" and sitting down, wrote a number, which he
would not let Mr. Langton read, saying, " Sir, you shall

28 JOHNSON.

not do more than I have done myself." He then folded
the paper up and sent it off.

The great work, however, upon which he was about
this time constantly engaged was his 'Dictionary/ of which
the first announcement was made in 1747, a year or more
after he had been at work upon it ; and the final publi-
cation in two volumes folio, with an elaborate Preface
and Grammar, took place in 1755. The Prospectus had
been inscribed to Lord Chesterfield, then (1747) Secre-
tary of State, and had received, when shewed him in
manuscript, that able and accomplished person's high
approval. It should seem that Johnson had called upon
him afterwards and been refused admittance, a thing far
from inexplicable when the person happened to be a
Cabinet Minister in a laborious department. He had
probably not courted his further acquaintance by invita-
tions, but quarrel there was not any between the parties ;
and when the ' Dictionary' was on the point of appearing,
Lord Chesterfield wrote two witty and highly laudatory
papers upon it in the ' World,' strongly but delicately re-
commending the expected work to all readers and all
purchasers. Johnson's pride took fire, and he wrote
that letter which is so well known, and has been so much
admired for its indignant and sarcastic tone, but wliich,
everything considered, is to be reckoned among the
outrages committed by the irritability of the literary
temperament. Nor can anything be more humbling, if
it be not even ridiculous enough at once to bring the
sublime of the epistle down to a very ordinary level,
than the unhappy Note which Mr. Boswell's candour and
love of accuracy has subjoined, — that Johnson once con-
fessed to Mr. Langton his having received ten pounds

JOHNSON. 29

from the Earl, but " as that was so inconsiderable a sum,
he thought the mention of it could not properly find a
place in a letter of the kind this was/' — referring to the
passage which speaks very incorrectly of his having re-
ceived from Lord Chesterfield " not one act of assistance,
one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour."
(L, 237.) It seems almost as incorrect to say, that he
had never received one smile of favour ; for it is certain
that he had been admitted to his society and politely
treated. He described him (IV., 353) as of "ex-
quisitely elegant manners, with more knowledge than
what he expected, and as having conversed with him
upon philosophy and literature." The letter which he
wrote appears to have been treated with indifference, if
not with contempt, by the noble Secretary of State ; for
he shewed it to any one that asked to see it, and let it lie
on his table open that all might read who pleased. The
followers of Johnson quote this as a proof of his dissimu-
lation ; possibly he overdid it ; but they should recollect
how little any one was likely to feel severely hurt by such
a composition, when he could with truth mention, even
if he should not choose to do so, that he had given the
writer ten pounds without giving him the least offence.

The stipulated price for the 'Dictionary' was 15751. ;
but he had to incur considerable expense in the prepara-
tion of it for the press, by having the extracts copied, as
well as in the purchase of books which he was obliged to
consult. He had for several years to employ three or
four amanuenses or clerks, who occupied a room in his
house fitted up like an office or a counting-house. In all
he employed six, for whom his kindness ever after is
known to have been unceasing, and his bounty quite

30 JOHNSON.

equal to his means of rewarding them. It has also been
observed as a proof of his national prejudices being
capable of mitigation, that five of the six were Scotch-
men. Of the money which he received for this work
nearly the whole was anticipated, being received and
spent for his support while the composition of the book
was going on.

During the laborious period of his life which we have
been surveying, he had sustained two losses which deeply
affected him, — by his mother's death in 1 759, of which
I have spoken, and his wife's in 1752, an affliction which
deeply impressed itself on his mind. He was not only
entirely overwhelmed with grief at the moment of her
decease, but continued ever after to mourn for her, and
to pray for her soul, which he appears to have thought
destined to a middle state of existence before its ever-
lasting rest, although he always put his supplication
doubtfully or conditionally. After this loss he received
into his lodgings Miss Williams, a maiden lady, daughter
of a Welsh physician, who had left her in poor circum-
stances ; and she afterwards became blind. She was a
person of excellent understanding and considerable in-
formation, but of a peevish temper, which he patiently
bore, partly because her constant society was a resource
against his melancholy tone of mind, and partly because
he really had a compassionate disposition. He could
only afford to give her lodging, she finding out of her
scanty means her own subsistence, which he occasionally
aided by gifts. She died a year before his own decease.
Mrs. Desmoulines was the daughter of his godfather,
Dr. Swinfen, and widow of a writing-master ; her, too,
Johnson received for many years in his house with her

JOHNSON. 31

daughter, though his rooms were so small, that she and
Miss Williams had to live in one apartment. The only
satisfaction apparently which he could receive from the
society of this lady, was the gratification of his charitable
disposition ; and he made her an allowance of near
thirty pounds a-year from the time that he received his
pension."3'" She survived him.

Robert Levett, a poor apothecary, lived with him in a
similar way almost from the time he came to London.
He practised among the poor for very small sums ; but
it was one of Johnson's ignorant prejudices, partly
founded on his contracted knowledge of scientific sub-
jects, partly from his not unamiable bias in favour of his
friends, that he never could be satisfied with the skill of
any medical attendant if Levett did not also assist their
care. He died two years before Johnson, who wrote
some very affecting verses to the memory of this humble
friend. It was among Johnson's fancies to suppose he
knew something of medicine and chemistry, because he
read occasionally in his accustomed desidtory manner
parts of old-fashioned books on these subjects ; and he
even used to make experiments without any method or
any acquaintance with the subject, upon mixing, and boil-
ing, and melting different substances, and even upon
distilling them. But his knowledge of all the parts of
natural science was extremely limited and altogether
empirical. Doubtless Levett's conversation was on these

* The temper and dispositions of his poor inmates were far from
conducing to their own comfort or to his peace. He describes them
in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale : — " Mrs. Williams hates every
body; Levett hates Desmouliues, and does not love- Williams;
Desmoulines hates them both; Polly loves none of them.'*

32 JOHNSON.

matters perfectly level to his companion's, and quite as
much as he could bear.

Johnson was now in his fifty-fourth year, and had
attained a very high, if not the highest station among
the literary men of his age and country. Goldsmith had
not yet reached the eminence which he afterwards at-
tained. Burke as a man of letters was but little known.
Gibbon had not appeared. Hume and Robertson be-
longed to another part of the island ; and Johnson had
not only distinguished himself both as a poet and a prose
writer, but he had conferred upon English literature the
important benefit of the first even tolerably good diction-
ary of the language, and one the general merit of which
may be inferred from the fact, that after a lapse of nearly
a century, filled with the monuments of literary labour
incalculably multiplied in all directions, no similar work
has superseded it. The struggle for subsistence in which
he had lived so long, and which he had so long nobly
maintained without stooping to any degrading acts, very
little even to the resource now so invariably resorted to
by literary men, the occupations of party, either in
Church or State, had continued during five-and-twenty
years with but little intermission, and when long past
the middle age, and beginning to feel the effects of time
upon his powers of exertion, a proposal was made without
his solicitation, or even knowledge, by Mr. Wedderburn,
then a rising man at the bar, (afterwards Lord Lough-
borough,) to the Prime Minister, Lord Bute, who received
it favourably, and acted upon it promptly. A pension
of three hundred a year was granted to him, and it was
granted without the least reference to political considera-
tions— the Minister declaring deliberately, that no ser-

JOHNSON. 33

vices whatever, of any kind, were expected in consideration
of the grant ; that it had reference to his past labours
alone, and that whatever political tracts he might have
written, they were not taken into the account, because it
was believed that he had, in the composition of them, only
followed the bent of his inclination and expressed his
unbiassed opinions.

Nothing could be more opportune than this grant ;
nothing more entirely change the whole aspect of his si-
tuation. When we consider that it put him in possession
of a much larger free income, without any exertion what-
ever, than he had ever been able to earn by a life of hard
labour, we at once perceive that there could hardly have
been wrought a greater revolution, or a happier, in any
man's fortunes. The delicate manner in which the grant
was bestowed, heightened the obligation ; and, indeed,
something might be required to soothe the feeling with
which he must have regarded his exposing himself to the
taunts of party, and the envy of disappointed men ; for
he had, but a few years before, gone out of his way to
define a pensioner, " a slave of state hired to obey a
master," and a pension, " pay given to a state hireling for
treason to his country."

The change in his circumstances of course produced
as great a change as possible in his habits. He no longer
laboured as before to gain money ; nor during the remain-
ing twenty-two years of his life do we find him compos-
ing any considerable number of works, even for his amuse-
ment. His edition of Shakspeare was published in 1765,
but begun twenty years earlier, and it had been almost
all finished before the grant. He wrote his two pamph-
lets, ' Taxation no Tyranny/ and ' On the Falkland

D

34 JOHNSON.

Island Dispute,' — works of little Labour ; and the ' Lives
of the Poets,' including that of Savage, and several other
pieces long before printed by him, was the only work of
any consequence which his later years produced.

He now indulged more than ever in desultory read-
ing, and in conversation, which appeared necessary to his
existence. Solitude oppressed him, by leaving him a
prey to his constitutional malady of low spirits. He was
especially afraid of being left alone in the evening, and
therefore loved to pass his time in one or other of the
clubs, which he founded for the purpose of having some
such resource on stated days. Of these, one attained
great eminence, from the number of distinguished men
who belonged to it ; and it exists at this clay. Reynolds,
Goldsmith, Burke, Fox, Gibbon, Wiudham, Beauclerk,
Sir William Scott, Canning, were among its members.
But he had other weekly clubs of less fame, and he once
desired to have one established in the City, which was ac-
cordingly done. He somewhat enlarged the circle of his
acquaintance as his life became so much less laborious,
and he made more frequent excursions to the country,
beside going for a few weeks to Paris, and making the
tour of Scotland and the Hebrides. His acquaintance with
Mr. Boswell began in 1 763, and their intercourse was con-
tinued till his death, as often as that gentleman happened
to be in London. With Mr. Beauclerk and Mr. Langton,
his friendship had commenced ten years earlier, and with
Sir Joshua Reynolds nearly twenty ; with Garrick he had
been on intimate terms when he was his pupil, and their
friendship had continued ever since his arrival in London.
It was one of his peculiarities that he never would say
much in favour of his old friend and pupil, but never

JOHNSON. 35

would allow others to say anything against him. He
must have a monopoly of the censure. Miss Burney
relates a diverting instance of this in her Memoirs of her
father. It had been observed that the great actor
was chagrined at the King and Queen receiving coldly his
private reading of ' Lethe,' which they had commanded.
" Sir," said Dr. Johnson, " he has no right, in a royal
apartment, to expect the hallooing and clamour of the one
shilling gallery. The King, I doubt not, gave him as
much applause as was rationally his due. And, indeed,
great and uncommon as is the merit of Mr. Garrick, no
man will be bold enough to assert that he has not had
his just proportion, both of fame and profit. He has long
reigned, the unequalled favourite of the public ; and
therefore nobody, we may venture to say, will mourn his
hard lot, if the King and the royal family were not trans-
ported into rapture upon hearing him read ' Lethe !7
But yet, Mr. Garrick will complain to his friends ; and
his friends will lament the King's want of feeling and
taste ; but then, Mr. Garrick will kindly excuse the
King — he will say that his Majesty — might, perhaps, be
thinking of something else ! that the affairs of America
might, possibly, occur to him — or some other subject of
state, more important — perhaps — than ' Lethe.' But
though he will candidly say this himself, he will not easily
forgive his friends, if they do not contradict him !"

Mr. Langton was a Lincolnshire gentleman, of a very
elegant turn of mind, and strictly correct life. Mr.
Beauclerk was a man of brilliant talents and celebrated
for his powers of conversation, but of dissipated habits,
and whose connexion with Lady Bolingbroke occasioned
her divorce from her husband, upon which she married

D 2

36 JOHNSOX.

Mr. Beauclerk. Johnson, however, was so captivated
with the society of this gentleman, all the more agreeable
to him from the accident of high birth, that he certainly
was as much attached to him as to any of his friends,
and felt as acutely upon his death. He occasionally
went to visit Mr. Langton's family in Lincolnshire, and
once was offered by them a considerable living, which he
declined. But though he esteemed Mr. Langton's cha-
racter, and was wont to say, "Sit anima mea cum Lang-
tono" it was plain that he enjoyed Beauclerk's society
more — and an amusing scene is recorded by Mr. Boswell,
of his laughing with his hearty and boisterous mirth at
Langton, for refusing to join them on a wild party down
the river, on the plea that he was engaged to chink tea
with some young ladies.

But a much more important addition was made to his
acquaintance three years after the grant of his pension.
He in 1765 became intimate with Mr. Thrale, the great
brewer, and the member for Southwark. He was a man
of excellent sense, respectable character, great wealth, pro-
portionable hospitality, and of a very good education ;
so that nothing could be more erroneous than the pre-
vailing notion that his wife formed the only attraction of
his house. She was a lively and clever person, who
loved to surround herself with brilliant society, and she
obtained great influence with Johnson, who was probably
half in love with her unknown to himself; but he always
allowed that Mr. Thrale had incomparably more both of
learning and of sense, and he never ceased to feel for him
the greatest respect and affection. The impression was
equally groundless that Mrs. Thrale ruled in the house ;
the master of it was absolute whenever he wished to

JOHNSON. 3 7

make his pleasure known, and although his kindness of
disposition might give the mistress a divisum imperium in
small matters, the form of government was anything
rather than a gynocracy. From the time of Johnson's
introduction, to Mr. Thrale's decease in 1781, and even
during the next two years, he might be said to be of the
family ; he had his apartment both in Southwark, and at
their villa of Streatham ; he called Thrale always " my
Master," Mrs. Thrale " my Mistress :" loving the com-
forts of life, he here had the constant enjoyment of its
luxuries : excellent society was always assembled under
their roof, his moody temper was soothed, and his melan-
choly dispelled by those relaxations, and by having,
without the cares of a family, its occupations to distract
his mind ; when unfortunately for his enjoyment, and on
no other account that I can discover unfortunately, the
widow contracted a second marriage with an Italian
teacher, Mr. Piozzi, which cut Johnson to the heart, and
was resented by himself and all his friends as an act of
self-degradation that deservedly put Mrs. Thrale out of
the pale of society. It is quite amusing to see the
manner in which this step of the lady is taken both
by Johnson, who had himself married his mercantile
friend's widow, without any means of support but his own
industry, nay, who had like Mr. Piozzi, endeavoured, but
unsuccessfully, to maintain himself by teaching, and by
Miss Burney, the daughter of a music-master, and sister
of a Greek teacher. Had Mrs. Thrale been not only
seduced, but thrown herself on the stage for subsistence,
nay, on the town for a livelihood, these high-bred per-
sonages could not have mourned more tenderly over her
conduct. Her fate, her fall, her sad lot, the pity of

38 JOHNSON.

friends and exultation of foes,""" are the terms applied to
the widow of a wealthy brewer, son of a common porter,
because she had lowered herself to contract a second mar-
riage with a well educated gentleman, whose circum-
stances led him to gain an honest subsistence by teaching
the finest music in the world, f

* " I thought," said Johnson in a letter to Sir J. Hawkins, " that
either her virtue or her vice would have kept her from such a mar-
riage ; she is now become a subject for her enemies to exult over,
and for her friends, if she has any left, to forget or to pity."

t Miss Burney's account of Dr. Johnson's vehement feelings on
this occasion, is striking.

" Scarcely an instant, however, was the latter left alone in Bolt
Court, ere she saw the justice of her long apprehensions ; for while
she planned speaking upon some topic that might have a chance to
catch the attention of the Doctor, a sudden change from kind tran-
quillity to strong austerity took place in his altered countenance ;
and, startled and affrighted, she held her peace. A silence almost
awful succeeded, though previously to Dr. Burney's absence, the
gayest discourse had been reciprocated. The Doctor, then, see-
sawing violently in his chair, as usual when he was big with any
powerful emotion whether of pleasure or of pain, seemed deeply
moved ; but without looking at her, or speaking, he intently fixed
his eyes upon the fire : while his panic-struck visitor, filled with
dismay at the storm which she saw gathering over the character and
conduct of one still dear to her very heart, from the furrowed front,
the laborious heaving of the ponderous chest, and the roll of the
large penetrating wrathful eye of her honoured, but just then, terrific
host, sat mute, motionless, and sad ; tremblingly awaiting a men-
tally demolishing thunderbolt. Thus passed a few minutes, in which
she scarcely dared breathe ; while the respiration of the Doctor, on
the contrary, was of asthmatic force and loudness ; then, suddenly
turning to her, with an air of mingled wrath and woe, he hoarsely
ejaculated : ' Piozzi ! ' He evidently meant to say more ; but the
effort with which he articulated that name robbed him of any voice
for amplification, and his whole frame grew tremulously convulsed.
His guest, appalled, could not speak ; but he soon discerned that it
was grief from coincidence, not distrust from opposition of sentiment

JOHNSON. 39

With all his powers of conversation, and all his wil-
lingness to mix with the world, it is certain that Johnson
never was received in the select circles of distinguished
persons, nor indeed was at all in general society ; nor
can a better proof be given of the great change which a
few years has effected in the social intercourse of London,
and of the great contrast which at all times has been
exhibited in that of Paris. Johnson was sensible enough
of this, but did not repine, for he lived in a small, but
highly interesting circle, and there was sufficiently es-

that caused her taciturnity. This perception calmed him, and he
then exhibited a face ' in sorrow more than anger.' His see-sawing
abated of its velocity, and again fixing his looks upon the fire, he
fell into pensive rumination. From time to time, nevertheless, he
impressively glanced upon her his full-fraught eye, that told, had
its expression been developed, whole volumes of his regret, his dis-
appointment, his astonished indignancy : but now and then it also
spoke so clearly and so kindly that he found her sight and her
stay soothing to his disturbance, that she felt as if confidentially
communing with him, although they exchanged not a word. At
length, and with great agitation, he broke forth with ' She cares for
no one ! You, only — You, she loves still ! — but no one — and
nothing else ! You she still loves,' — A half smile now, though of no
very gay character, softened a little the severity of his features while
he tried to resume some cheerfulness in adding : ' As .... she loves
her little finger !":

Now Johnson was, perhaps unknown to himself, in love with Mrs.
Thrale ; but for Miss Burney's thoughtless folly there can be no ex-
cuse. And her father, a person of the very same rank and profession
with Mr. Piozzi, appears to have adopted the same senseless cant, as
if it were less lawful to marry an Italian musician than an English.
To be sure, Miss Burney says that Mrs. Thrale was lineally descended
from Adam de Saltsburg, who came over with the Conqueror. But
assuredly that worthy, unable to write his name, would have held Dr.
Johnson himself in as much contempt as his fortunate rival, and
would have regarded his alliance equally disreputable with the
Italian's, could his consent have been asked.

40 JOHNSON.

teemed, indeed treated with unusual observance. He
ascribed his neglect by the great to a wrong cause ;
" Lords and ladies don't like," he said, " to have their
mouths stopt." The truth is, that in those days no one was,
generally speaking, admitted into patrician society merely
for the intrinsic merits of his writings or his talk, without
having some access to it through his rank, or his political
or professional eminence. Nay, even the greatest dis-
tinction in some professions could not open those doors
on their massive hinges. The first physicians and the
first merchants and bankers were not seen at the tables of
many persons in the " west end of the town." It is
equally erroneous to suppose that Johnson's rough exte-
rior, or his uncouth and even unpleasant habits, could
have prevented his fame and his conversation from being
sought after to adorn aristocratic parties in later times.
All these petty obstacles would have been easily got over
by the vanity of having such ,a person to shew, and indeed
by the real interest which the display of his colloquial
powers would have possessed among a more refined and
better educated generation. The only marvel is, that in
an age which valued extrinsic qualities so exclusively, or
at least regarded sterling merit as nothing without them,
the extraordinary deference for rank and for high sta-
tion, which Johnson on all occasions shewed, and the
respect for it which he was well known really to feel,
should have had so little effect in recommending him to
those who regarded nothing else.

It should seem that public bodies partook in no small
measure of the same indifferent feelings towards literary
eminence, and regarded rather the rank, or at least the
academical station, than the intrinsic merits of those upon

JOHNSON. 41

whom their honours should be bestowed. Johnson,
having been prevented from taking a degree in the
ordinary course, as we have seen, although he had resided
three years at Oxford, could not obtain one when it
would have given him the mastership of an endowed
school ; and he had attained for many years a high place
in the literary world before his Alma (?) Mater would
enrol him among her Masters of Arts. He obtained that
honorary degree on the eve of publishing his Dictionary
in 1755. No further honours were bestowed until in
1775, when a Doctor's degree was conferred upon him,
Trinity College, Dublin, having given him the same, ten
years before. He seems to have been much more pleased
with these compliments, than chagrined at the tardy
sense thus shown of his merits ; for it must be admitted
that Oxford delaying this mark of respect to one of her
most eminent pupils so long after the Irish University,
with which he had no connexion, had bestowed it,
betokened a singular economy in the distribution of
honours which are constantly given to every person of
rank without any merit whatever, who happens to attend
any of the great academical solemnities. Probably he
might feel this, for it is observable that he never availed
himself of the title thus bestowed upon him. He
always called himself Mr. Johnson, as he had done before.
He always wrote his name thus on his cards and in his
notes, never calling himself Doctor. As for his books, of
the three which he published after 1765, the ' Shakspeare'
and the ' Tour/ have no name at all in the title-pages,
and the ' Lives' have only Samuel Johnson, without either
M.A. or LL.D.

In commemorating the treatment, whether of respect

42 JOHNSON.

or neglect, which Johnson met with, we' must not forget
the honour which he received from the King, (George
TIL,) who, hearing that he used to come and read in the
fine library at Buckingham House, desired Mr. Barnard,
the librarian, to give him notice of his being there, in
order that he might gratify a very praiseworthy curiosity,
by becoming acquainted with him. This happened in
the year 1767, and the particulars of the interview, as
collected by Mr. Boswell from various sources, with even
more than his wonted diligence, shew the King to have
conversed both very courteously and like a sensible, well-
informed man upon various subjects, and to be acquainted
with all the ordinary topics of conversation, both as
related to books and men. Johnson's demeanour was
equally correct ; he was profoundly respectful, of course,
but he never lowered the tone either of his opinions or
of his voice during a pretty long interview.

From the time when the grant of the pension placed
him in easy circumstances to the year before his death,
when he had a paralytic stroke, no important event
occurred in his life, if we except his journey to Scotland
in 1772, which, gave him an opportunity of seeing all the
literary men of that country, and of observing also in the
Islands a people emerging from a very low state of
civility — but which had very little effect in shaking his
rooted prejudice against the Scotch — and an excursion in
1775, for two months, to Paris, in company with Mr.
Thrale's family, and Baretti, the author of the ' Italian
Dictionary,' one of his most intimate and valued friends.
Mr. Boswell has preserved one of the note books in which
he kept a diary of his observations on this French tour ;
and though he appears to have made many and very

JOHNSON. 43

minute inquiries, no kind of discrimination is observable
as having directed his curiosity, and very meagre general
information shines through the page. His ignorance of
things very generally known, is sufficiently remarkable.
Thus he seems never before to have been aware that
monks are not necessarily in orders ; but he might also
have known that though originally they were laymen,
yet for many centuries they have been, as indeed their
name implies, (regular clergy,) always in orders. He
notes with surprise, apparently, that an iron ball swims
in quicksilver. He mentions the French cookery at the
best tables as unbearably bad, and accounts for their
meat being so much dressed, that its bad quality (the
best, he says, only fit to be sent to a gaol in England,)
would make it uneatable if cooked plain.

The life which he continued to lead during these latter
years was on the whole far more agreeable as well as easy
than he had ever before enjoyed : for beside the entire
freedom from all care for his subsistence, and the power
which he thus had of indulging in the love of much, but
desultory and discontinuous, reading, as well as in the
society which looked up to him and humoured his some-
what capricious habits, his melancholy was considerably
abated, and could be better kept under control. The
family of the Thrales served to give him the quiet and
soothing pleasures of a home without any of the anxieties
of the domestic state, and with as much authority and
more liberty than he could have enjoyed within his own
household. His other friends, with whom also much of
his time was passed according to the more convivial
habits of that day, were among the most distinguished of
the age for their talents and their accomplishments. Be-

44 JOHNSON.

side varying his London residence by frequent visits to
the Thrales' villa, at the distance beyond which his fixed
preference of London to all other abodes, would not
easily let him move, he occasionally made excursions,
though short ones, to more remote haunts, especially to
Oxford, endeared to him both by the severely orthodox
genius of the place, (severa religio loci,) by early associa-
tions, and by surviving friendships. Some efforts he con-
tinued to make in literature and in politics, in perfect
freedom of labour, rather as relaxation than as work, and
he made them with his wonted success. The pamphlet
on the ' American Dispute' was written with great force
and effect, and is the best of these pieces. It appeared
in 1775. That on the 'Falkland Islands/ distinguished
by the eloquent defence of peace, and the powerful
description of the evils of war, was published in 1771.

In both these tracts he was avowedly the champion of
the Government ; but he was also employed by them, or at
least acted in concert with them ; for he received his mate-
rials from the Ministers, and conducted the argument by
their instructions, altering whatever they deemed improper
or inexpedient, and admitting his agency, by the defence
he made for leaving out one notable passage, " It was their
business : if an architect says, I will build finer stones,
and the man who employs him says, I will have only
these, the employer is to decide/' His other pamphlets
were, the 'False Alarm/ in 1770, on Wilkes's question,
espousing the side of the Ministers, and probably in un-
willing connexion with them, and the 'Patriot/ in 17 72;
on the general election, a short address, written to assist
his friend Thrale, then a candidate for the Borough.

o

There can be no doubt that in writing all but the last of

JOHNSON. 45

these works he felt himself discharging a debt of gratitude
to the Government, but they certainly cannot in any
respect be charged with speaking a language which was
either dictated, or at all influenced, by the highly im-
portant favour he had received.

In the middle of 1783, when in his seventy-fourth
year, he had the paralytic stroke, to which reference has
already been made. He was seized in the night, after
having felt himself the day before lighter and better than
usual, as is very common in such cases, probably from the
exhilarating effects of a quickened circulation. He felt a
confusion and indistinctness in his head " for half a
minute," and having prayed that his faculties might be
preserved, he composed his supplication in Latin verse,
for the purpose of trying whether or not his mind re-
mained entire. " The lines," he says in his letter to
Mrs. Thrale two days after, " were not very good, but I
knew them not to be very good, and concluded myself to
be unimpaired in my faculties." He found, however,
that he had lost his speech, which did not return till the
second day, and was for some time imperfect and un-
steady. His recovery, however, from this alarming ail-
ment appears to have been complete, though it probably
increased the general weakness of the system, now be-
ginning to shew itself in several ways, and especially by
an increased difficulty of breathing, the effect of water
forming in the chest. For about a year, though he con-
tinued in a precarious, and occasionally a suffering state,
he yet could enjoy society much as usual in the intervals
of his indisposition, and went once or twice into the
country for a few days. His occupations continued the
same as before, and he attended with much interest, at a

46 JOHNSON.

friend's near Salisbury, a course of lectures on the new

J 7

discoveries in pneumatic chemistry. It was supposed that
passing the next winter, 1784-5, in a better climate
would have a salutary effect, and he was himself much
set upon the plan of going to Italy with this view. The
Chancellor (Lord Thurlow) being apprised of this design,
and informed that some pecuniary assistance would be
required, shewed every readiness to obtain it from the
Government. In this application he was unsuccessful :
but for the somewhat discreditable refusal of his colleagues
his Lordship made good amends, by offering to advance
"five or six hundred pounds on the mortgage of the
Doctor's pension," a proposal, as he told Sir J. Reynolds,
which he made from a wish that Johnson's delicacy might

J O

not be offended by the gift. Dr. Brocklesby, his physician,
had likewise offered to settle a hundred a year upon him
for the remainder of his life.

That life was now drawing to a close. The difficulty
of breathing increased and the dropsical complaint ex-
tended itself. He suffered exceedingly, but with exem-
plary patience. He was attended by the affectionate
care of his friends, among whom Mr. Windham was the
last that ministered to his earthly comforts. He died
on the 13th of December, 1784, having suffered far less
from apprehension of the event than his former habit of
regarding it with extreme horror, might have led us to
expect.

The ample materials furnished by his biographers, and
the marked and very plainly distinguishable features of
Johnson's character both as an author and as a man, render
the estimate of his merits and his defects, the descrip-
tion of his peculiarities, an easier task than often falls to

JOHNSON. 47

the lot of the historian. In order to attain a clear and
a correct view of him in both capacities, nothing more
remains after carefully considering his life and his writ-
ings, than to pierce through the clouds which have been
raised by the exaggerated admiration of his followers,
and the almost equal injustice of those with whose
prejudices his prejudices came in conflict. And the
largest deduction that can be fairly made, whether from
the praise or the blame, will certainly leave a great deal
to extol, and not a little to lament or to condemn.

The prevailing character of his understanding was the
capacity of taking a clear view of any subject presented
to it, a determination to ascertain the object of search,
and a power of swiftly perceiving it. His sound sense
made him pursue steadily what he saw was worth the
pursuit, piercing at once the husk to reach the kernel,
rejecting the dross which men's errors and defect of
perspicacity, or infirmity of judgment, had spread over
the ore, and rejecting it without ever being tempted by
its superficial and worthless hues to regard it with any
tolerance. Had he been as knowing as he was acute,
had his vision been as extensive as it was clear within
narrow limits, he would only have gained by this reso-
lute determination not to be duped, and would not have
been led into one kind of error by his fear of falling
into another. But it must be allowed, that even in his
most severe judgments he was far oftener right than
wrong ; and that on all ordinary questions, both of
opinion and of conduct, there were few men whom it
was more hopeless to attempt deceiving either by inac-
curate observation, by unreflecting appeals to the autho-
rity whether of great names or great numbers, by

48 JOHNSON.

cherished prepossessions little examined, or by all the
various forms which the cant of custom or of sentiment
is wont to assume.

Out of this natural bent of his understanding arose, as
naturally, the constant habit of referring all matters,
whether for argument or for opinion, to the decision of
plain common sense. His reasonings were short ; his
topics were homely ; his way to the conclusion lay in a
straight line, the shortest between any two points; and
though he would not deviate from it so as to lose himself,
he was well disposed to look on either side, that he might
gather food for his contemptuous and somewhat sarcastic
disposition, laughing at those whom he saw bewildered,
rather than pitying their errors.

To the desire of short and easy proof and the love
of accuracy when it could be obtained, and to which he
sometimes sacrificed truth by striving after exact reason-
ing on subjects that admit not of it, MTC may ascribe his
great fondness for common arithmetic, one of the very
few sciences with which he was acquainted.

With the vices of such an understanding and such a
disposition he was sufficiently imbued, as well as with its
excellencies. He was very dogmatical — very confident,
even presumptuous ; not very tolerant. He was also apt
to deal in truisms, and often inclined, when he saw
through them himself, to break down an argument, some-
times overwhelming it with the might of loud assertion,
sometimes cutting it short by the edge of a sneer.
Seeing very clearly within somewhat narrow limits,
he easily believed there was nothing beyond them to
see ; and, fond of reducing each argument to its sim-
plest terms and shortest statement, he frequently applied

JOHNSON. 4.9

a kind of reasoning wholly imsuitcd to the subject matter,
pronounced decisions of which the dispute was not
susceptible, and fell into errors which more knowing
inquirers and calmer disputants, without half his perspi-
cacity or his powers of combining, would easily and
surely have avoided.

The peculiarities of his style may be traced to the
same source — the characteristic features of his under-
standing and disposition. What he perceived clearly he
clearly expressed ; his diction was distinct ; it was never
involved ; it kept ideas in their separate and proper
places ; it did not abound in synonymes and repetition ;
it was manly, and it was measured, despising meretricious
and trivial ornament, avoiding all slovenliness, rejecting
mere surplusage, generally, though not always, very con-
cise, often needlessly full, and almost always elabo-
rate, the art of the workman being made manifest in the
plainly artificial workmanship. A love of hard and
learned words prevailed throughout ; and a fondness for
balanced periods was its special characteristic. But there
was often great felicity in the expression, occasionally a
pleasing cadence in the rhythm, generally an epigrammatic
turn in the language as well as in the idea. Even where
the workmanship seemed most to surpass the material,
and the word-craft to be exercised needlessly, and the
diction to run to waste, there was never any feebleness to
complain of, and always something of skill and effect to
admire. The charm of nature was ever wanting, but the
presence of great art was undeniable. Nothing was seen
of the careless aspect which the highest of artists ever
give their masterpieces — the produce of elaborate but

concealed pains ; yet the strong hand of an able work-

E

50 JOHNSON.

man was always marked ; and it was observed, too, that
he disdained to hide from us the far less labour which he
had much more easily bestowed.

There is no denying that some of Johnson's works,
from the meagreness of the material and the regularity
of the monotonous style, are exceedingly little adapted
to reading. They are flimsy, and they are dull ; they
are pompous, and though full of undeniable, indeed self-
evident truths, they are somewhat empty; they are,
moreover, wrapt up in a style so disproportioned in its
importance, that the perusal becomes very tiresome, and
is soon given up. This character belongs more especially
to the ' Rambler,' the object of such unmeasured praises
among his followers, and from which he derived the title
of the Great Moralist. It would not be easy to name a
book more tiresome, indeed more difficult to read, or one
which gives moral lessons in a more frigid tone, with less
that is lively or novel in the matter, in a language more
heavy and monotonous. The measured pace, the con-
stant balance of the style, becomes quite intolerable ; for
there is no interesting truth there to be inculcated remote
from common observation, nor is there any attack carried
on against difficult positions, nor is there any satirical
warfare maintained either with opinions or with persons.
There is wanting, therefore, all that makes us overlook the
formality and even lumbering heaviness of Johnson's
style in his other works ; and in this the style forms a
very large proportion of the whole, as the workmanship
does of filagree or lace, the lightness of which, however,
is a charm that Johnson's work wholly wants. It is
singular to observe how vain are all his attempts in these
papers to escape from his own manner, even when it was

JOHNSON. .31

most unsuitcd to the occasion. Like Addison and Steele,
he must needs give many letters from correspondents by
way of variety ; but these all write in the same language,
how unlike soever their characters. So that anything less
successful in varying the uniformity of the book, or any-
thing less resembling the lightness, the graces, the elo-
quent and witty simplicity of the great masters, can
hardly be imagined. Thus we not only find maiden
ladies, like Tranquilla, describing themselves as " having
danced the round of gaiety amidst the murmurs of envy
and the gratulations of applause ; attended from pleasure
to pleasure by the great, the sprightly, and the vain ;
their regard solicited by the obsequiousness of gallantry,
the gaiety of wit, and the timidity of love ;" and spoilt
beauties, like Victoria, " whose bosom was rubbed with
a pomade, of virtue to discuss pimples and clear dis-
colorations ;" but we have Bellaria, at fifteen, and
hating books, who "distinguishes the glitter of vanity
from the solid merit of understanding,'' and describes her
guardians as telling her, but telling her in vain, " that
reading would fill up the vacuities of life, without the help
of silly or dangerous amusements, and preserve from the
snares of idleness and the inroads of temptation ;" and
Myrtella, at sixteen, who had "learnt all the common
rules of decent behaviour and standing maxims of
domestic prudence," till Flavia came down to the village,
" at once easy and officious, attentive and unembarrassed,"
when a struggle commenced with the old aunt, who found
" girls grown too wise and too stubborn to be commanded,
but was resolved to try who should govern, and would
thwart her mere humour till she broke her spirit."

Ponderous as such levities are after the ' Spectator'

E 2

52 JOHNSON.

and the ' Tatler,' and heavy indeed as the whole of the
' Rambler ' proves to every reader, it is impossible to
deny that it contains a great profusion of sensible reflec-
tion, or to refuse it the praise of having been produced
with a facility altogether astonishing, considering it to
bear so manifestly the mark of great labour. The
papers were always written in the utmost haste ; a part
of each being sent to the press, and the rest written
while it was printing. Nor did the author almost ever
read over what he had written until he saw it in print.
We have seen that the 'Idler' was composed in the
same hurry. Indeed, Johnson appears to have com-
posed so easily, that he could write as fast as he could
copy. That he composed with the greatest ease is,
however, certain. He told Miss Burney that the ' Lives
of the Poets/ which he never considered lives, but only
critical prefaces, were printed without his ever reading
the manuscript, and that he reserved his corrections till
he saw the sheets in print. Accordingly, when he com-
plied with her request to have the proof sheets of a life,
and she chose that of ' Pope,' she found the margin
covered with alterations. He wrote forty-eight printed
pages of his 'Life of Savage' in one night, and Mr. Bos-
well relates that he wrote twice as much of a translation
at one sitting ; but here there must be some mistake, as
no man who wrote Johnson's hand could have written
nearly so much. Even his verses were made so easily,
that he wrote seventy of his ' Vanity of Human Wishes '
in one day, and a hundred in another. These things are
believed from the testimony of his friends, and only upon
that authority. All internal evidence is clearly against
his composition being easy any more than it was natural.

JOHNSON. 53

The pamphlets and other occasional tracts of this emi-
nent writer are of a far higher merit than his ' Moral
Essays;' and they are so much the more excellent,
because they are occasional. The subject is either the
attack or the defence, sometimes both combined, of some
opinions, some measures, some men. The singularly
polemical powers of the author's mind — his controversial
propensities — his talent for pointed writing and for decla-
mation, relieved by epigram — his power of sarcasm, and
disposition to indulge in it — his plain, common sense
way of viewing every subject — and his short, downright,
fearless way of handling it, fitted him for such contests
beyond almost any one who ever engaged in them ; and
he had the advantage of writing at a time when the
conduct of both political and literary warfare was in the
hands of men little capable of able or even of correct
writing, and when, except the writings of Junius, and of
Burke, and perhaps of Wilkes, nothing had*appeared
which preferred even a moderate claim to the approval
of well informed readers. The American pamphlet,
' Taxation no Tyranny,' and the review of Soame Jeuyus'
treatise * On the Origin of Evil,' were soon distinguished
as the productions of a very superior pen to any before
known, at least to any known since the Addisons, the
Swifts, and the Steeles took a part in the labours of the
ephemeral press. Nor are there any of the Craftsmen
and the Examiners equal, upon the whole, in merit to
the pamphlets of Johnson, taking all the qualities re-
quired in such works into the account, though, doubt-
less, the exquisite wit of both Addison and Swift has a
lightness and a flavour which we in vain look for in the
works of their more stately successor ; while, as for the

.

.)4 JOHNSON.

merciless execution of Soanie Jenyns, the art of periodical
criticism being only of late cultivated, nothing can be
found to match it at the beginning of the century, if it
be not some of the unmeasured attacks of the Scriblerus
school upon their humble adversaries.

We are thus naturally led to speak of Johnson's poli-
tical principles. They were uniformly and steadily those
of a high tory in Church and State. He was of a
Jacobite family, and he never laid aside his good wishes
towards the Stuart family ; but when the madness of
1745, and the subsequent carelessness, ingratitude, and
sottish life of the Pretender had extinguished all hopes
among his followers, the strong opinions in favour of
prerogative, the hatred of the Whig party, and his dis-
trust, indeed dislike, of all popular courses, remained as
abiding parts of Johnson's faith and of his feelings on
political subjects. But his Jacobite opinions also re-
mained as regarded the history of the past both in regard
to persons and things. He had the greatest admiration
and even esteem for Charles II., whose licentious life he
was forced to allow ; but he declared him to be the best
king, excepting James II., that had appeared between
the Restoration and the accession of George III. Wil-
liam III. he could not endure, and openly called him
" one of the most worthless scoundrels that ever existed,"
(Bos., II. 353.) He, of course, had in his eye the family
connexion of that illustrious prince with James. There
was no abuse he did not lavish on George II., and in his
father he could only find one virtue, that he wished to
restore the exiled family, whose merits in Johnson's eyes
were plainly the origin of all these violent and absurd
opinions. In other respects, however, lie Mr;is no enemy

JOHNSON. 55

of liberty, but he wished to see it enjoyed under the
patronage of the sovereign and of a parliament repre-
senting hereditarily and electively the rank and property
of the country. He was no stickler for abuses, but he
desired that they might be prudently and cautiously
reformed by the wiser and the more respectable portion
of the community, not lopped off rashly by the violent
hands of the multitude.

Yet he so greatly loved established things, so deeply
venerated whatever had the sanction of time, that he
both shut his eyes to many defects in his view con-
secrated by age, and unreasonably transferred to mere
duration the respect which reason itself freely allows to
whatever has the testimony of experience in its favour.
The established Church, the established Government, the
established order of things in general, found in him an
unflinching supporter, because a sincere and warm ad-
mirer; and giving his confidence entirely, he either was
content to suspend his reason in the great majority of
instances, or, at least, to use it only for the purpose of
attaining the conclusion in favour of existing institutions,
and excluding all farther argument touching their foun-
dations. The manner in which these feelings rather
than principles broke out, even on trifles, was often suffi-
ciently ludicrous. When he went to Plymouth, where
he found a new town grown up, he always regarded the
"Dockers" (so they were called) as upstarts and aliens,
siding zealously in the local disputes with the old esta-
blished town. He once exclaimed, " I hate a Docker ;"
and again, half laughing at his own half-pretended zeal,
when there was a question of watering the new town,
" No, no !" said he, " I am against the Dockers : I am

56 JOHNSON.

a Plymouth man. Rogues ! let them die of thirst ; they
sha'n't have a drop !" This was more than half jest ;
but no doubt can be entertained that his dislike of the
American cause, and his exertions for the mother
country, had their root in the same soil of rank pre-
judice— a prejudice against the new people as much as
an opinion against their claims. " I am willing," he
once said, "to love all mankind except an American;"
and, he roared out with much abuse, "he'd burn and
destroy them."— (Boswell, III. 314.) "Sir," said he on
another occasion, " they are a race of convicts, and ought
to be thankful for anything we allow them short of
hanging."— (III. 327.)

Akin to this were his strong and even intolerant
national prejudices. Of the French he ever spoke with
an unmeasured and an ignorant contempt. He could
not but allow that there were many successful cultivators
of letters in France : indeed, he admitted that there
" was a great deal of learning there," and ascribed
it to the number of religious establishments ; but
he maintained that the men generally knew no more
than the women : that their books were superficial ;
that their manners were bad ; that they are a " gross,
ill-bred, untaught people ;" nay, that their cookery is
unbearable, and their meat so vile as to be only fit for
sending to feed prisoners. But his prejudices were to
the full as strong against the Scotch ; towards whom no
reflection, no civility experienced in their hospitable
country, no intercourse with the most distinguished and
most deserving individuals, could ever reconcile him.
With this, and with most of his other prejudices, a
strong taint of religious as well as political bigotry mixed

JOHNSON. 57

itself. The Presbyterian form of polity he could not
bear ; it was of too republican a caste, and it wholly
rejected the " regimen of Prelates."

If his political opinions were strong, his religious ones
were stronger still; and after wavering, even disbelieving,
at one time, and for some years "caring for none of these
things," he became one of the most sincerely believing,
and truly pious Christians that ever professed the faith
of the Gospel. That he had very minutely, or very
learnedly, examined the various points of controversy
connected with this most important subject cannot be
affirmed, nor even that he had with adequate patience,
and with undisturbed calmness, scrutinized the founda-
tions of his own general belief. His extreme anxiety to
believe ; his nervous dread of finding any cause for
doubt ; his constitutional want of some prospect on
which to fix his hopes ; his excessive alarm at the
appearance of any cloud arising over that prospect, pre-
vented him from possessing his soul in the perfect peace
and unruffled serenity necessary for him who would rise
to the height of this great argument, nay indisposed him
altogether to enter upon the discussion. He regarded
all who contended, however conscientiously, and how-
ever decorously, against the truths of Revelation, as not
only enemies, but criminals. He never could bear the
presence of any such persons as were known to hold
infidel opinions. He openly avowed his abhorrence of
them, and not only proclaimed his belief of their guilt
in harbouring such sentiments, but of their also being
generally men of wicked lives. Thus, when a zealous but
thoughtless person had once said, that the character of an
infidel was more detestable than that of a man notoriously

58 JOHNSON.

guilty of an atrocious crime, and some one ventured to
deny this strange assertion, Johnson immediately said,
" Sir, I agree with him : for the infidel would be guilty of
any crime if he were inclined to it." — (Boswell, III. 52.)
His impatience of hearing any one commended
whose orthodoxy was suspected is well known ; but
when a person of known heterodox opinions was in ques-
tion, he broke through all bounds, and once being at Ox-
ford, in a company into which Dr. Price came, he in-
stantly got up and left the room. Dr. Price was at that
time only known by his Unitarian writings, and had pub-
lished nothing on politics, except his calculations touching
reversionary payments may be so considered. When
some years later he attended a course of chemical lec-
tures, in which of necessity Dr. Priestley's name was fre-
quently mentioned as a great discoverer, he knit his
brows, and said with a stern voice : " Why do we hear so
much of Dr. Priestley 1" It was necessary to pacify him
by stating, what, however, the lecturer must have before said,
that the discoveries were Dr. Priestley's. (Bos., IV. 251.)
His abhorrence of David Hume is well known, and his
grossly insulting Adam Smith, because he had in a pri-
vate letter, which was afterwards published without his
consent, described the death of the philosopher as calm
and cheerful, and his life as virtuous, has been often men-
tioned. He is said to have given him the lie at Glasgow,
in a company of literary men assembled for the purpose
of showing civility to the renowned English traveller;
but this anecdote cannot possibly be true/" It is certain,

* It is related on the authority of Sir Walter Scott, a professed
dealer in curious stories, and not very nice in scrutinizing his autho-
rities. Johnson's visit to Scotland was in 1773 ; Hume died in ] 776.

JOHNSON. 59

however, that, while he would not suffer Hume or Smith
to be introduced, he endured the intimate and familiar
society of some men very well known to have no great
reverence for religion or belief in its doctrines, but
whose rank and manners pleased him — and as for mo-
rality, with all his high-sounding talk about its obliga-
tions in general, he both associated with persons whose
lives were notoriously profligate, and maintained opinions
of a somewhat loose nature upon some particular heads ;
such as underrating conjugal fidelity on the husband's
part.

His alarm about the foundations of his belief, seemed
always to betoken some little misgivings — some indica-
tion that he was most anxious to believe, and would fain
have a firmer faith than he had. When in a fit of gloom
among his Oxford friends, he was reminded, by way of
comforting him, that surely he had light and proof enough,
he said shortly and significantly, " I wish to have more."
His ever hankering after "more" was betrayed by his
strong disposition to believe in spirits, ghosts, appari-
tions. He never would suffer the possibility of these
to be rejected, or the belief in them to be treated with
the least contempt ; and though on such a subject he could
not be so dogmatical as was his wont upon other points
of faith, he yet always stood out most dogmatically for
the credit of human testimony ; strenuously contending
for it wherever gross improbability did not counteract its
effect — nay, even willing to set it against no slight defect
of probability in the circumstances. It was plain that
this bias connected itself in his mind with the evidences
of Revelation ; for the general turn of his mind was to
regard reasonable probability, and to be somewhat over-

60 JOHNSON.

bearing in rejecting positions, either contrary to general
principle, or inconsistent with plain reason, or in any
other way unlikely to be true.

It is equally certain that his deference to authority
was confined to questions of religion and policy. Upon
all other subjects he was an independent thinker ; upon
those he was ever a stickler for authority or a willing
slave, but he was desirous of having some deciding power,
some competent jurisdiction, which upon religious points
should preclude all doubt, and in obedience to which he
might repose undisturbed. He was willing to support
the powers that be on temporal points, that he might
maintain discipline in society and preclude both the
doctrines and the exertions of those who are given to
change. No man ever held these opinions or showed
these feelings with greater consistency.

Nevertheless there were occasions on which the mas-
culine strength of his understanding broke through the
fetters which his fears, or his temporal, or his political
habits of thinking had forged for it. Thus he always was
an enemy of Negro Slavery, and once at Oxford, in a
company of grave doctors, gave as a toast, " The insur-
rection of the negroes in the West Indies*, and success to
them." In speaking of intolerable abuses, even by the
Supreme Legislative power, he held the right of resist-
ance ; for in no other sense can such expressions as these
be taken. " If the abuse be enormous, nature will rise
up, and claiming her original rights, overturn a corrupt

* Of his biographer's many absurdities, it is none of the least
that when entering his protest against Johnson's anti-slavery opi-
nion, he seriously declares, that the abolishing the slave traffic would
be "to shut the gates of mercy on mankind.'' (III., 222.)

JOHNSON. 61

political system." The misgovernment of Ireland he
equally felt with the Colonial Slave system itself.
" Let the authority of the English Government perish/'
he exclaimed, "rather than be maintained by iniquity.
Better to hang and draw people at once, than by un-
relenting persecution to beggar and starve them, and
grind them to powder by disabilities and incapacities."
(Boswell, II., 120.) This was said in 1770, eight years
before the first relaxation of the penal code; but in the
'Rambler' and the 'Idler' is to be found as clear and
as powerful a statement of the whole argument against
capital punishment, and also against imprisonment for
debt, as can anywhere be met with, and those papers
were published as early as 1752."*

The occasional writings of which we have been speak-
ing, and the mention of which introduced these parti-
culars regarding his opinions, were by far his best works,
until very late in life he wrote his ' Lives of the Poets/
the production on which his fame as an author chiefly
rests. But in his earlier years there were, beside the
celebrated pamphlets and other controversial pieces of
which alone I have treated, a great number of more
obscure performances which he contributed chiefly to
periodical works; and many of these have very con-
siderable merit, nor are they generally speaking written
in the wordy and solemn style which he seems to have
used indeed quite -naturally, but rather to have reserved
for higher occasions. The most considerable of these
writings are his ' Life of Sir Francis Drake/ a long,
unaffected, and minute narrative; but in which he,

* See particularly ' Rambler/ No. cxiv. ; ' Idler/ Nos. xxii.
xxxviii.

62 JOHNSON.

strangely enough, neither tells us when that great man
was born, nor how old he was when he died ; and his
'Memoirs of Frederick II. of Prussia/ written in 1756,
which but for a few passages (as where he speaks of the
old king's grenadiers being chosen to " propagate procreat-
ing," and of " providing heirs for their habiliments,")
might be read by any one, without ever suspecting who
was the author. It was his rare lot as a reviewer, to
write a criticism upon a work of Sir Isaac Newton ; his
' Five Letters to Bentley,' having been published while
Johnson contributed to the ' Gentleman's Magazine.' It
is certain that he treated this most venerable of all the
sons of men, respecting whom he was wont to say, that
had he lived in heathen times, he would have been
worshipped as a god, in no very different way from any
other author, whose writings chanced to come before him
in his critical capacity. Beside the passage which fol-
lows, the, review consists of five short paragraphs, and one
is in these words, coming after a quotation.

" Let it not be thought irreverence to this great name,
if I observe, that by matter evenly spread through infinite
space, he now finds it necessary to mean matter not
evenly spread ; matter not evenly spread will indeed
commence, but it will commence as soon as it exists ;
and in my opinion this puzzling question about matter, is
only how that could be that never could have been, or
what a man thinks on when he thinks of nothing."- —Of
which petulance it is enough to remark, as might well
be supposed, that Newton being entirely right, his re-
viewer is wholly wrong.

Of the Prefaces to his own or other men's works, it is
not necessary to speak in detail. The most ambitious is

JOHNSON. 63

that to the Dictionary, which is powerfully written:
but promises more than it performs, when it pro-
fesses to give a history of the English language ; for it
does very little more than give a series of passages from
the writings in the Anglo-Saxon and English tongues of
different ages. The Dictionary itself, with all its faults,
still keeps its ground, and has had no successor that could
supplant it. This is owing to the admirable plan of giving
passages from the writers cited as authorities for each
word, and this part of the design is very well executed.
Hence the book becomes almost as entertaining to read, as
useful to consult. The more difficult task of definition has
been less happily performed ; but far better than the ety-
mological part, which neither shows profound knowledge,
nor makes a successful application of it. The compiler
appears to have satisfied himself with one or two autho-
rities, and neither to have chosen them well, nor con-
sulted them with discrimination. Of any attempts at a
deeper and more philosophical study, either as regards
the structure or the grammar of our language, he cannot
be said ever to have had the merit ; but if he at any time
was so far fortunate, Home Tooke has very mercilessly
stript him of it.

The Preface to his Shakespeare certainly is far superior to
his other introductory discourses, both fuller of matter and
more elaborate. His remarks on the great dramatist are
generally speaking sound and judicious ; many of them
may even, on a subject sufficiently hackneyed, be deemed
original. The boldness with which his many critical
objections were offered, deserves not the less praise that
Shakespeare's numberless and gross faults are easy to dis-
cern; because, in presence of the multitude, one might

64 JOHNSON.

say, even of the English nation at large, their obvious
nature and considerable magnitude has never made them
very safe to dwell upon. Nor was it a moderate courage
that could make Johnson venture upon the plain state-
ment of a truth, however manifest, vet very unpalatable,
that " not one play, if it were now exhibited as the
work of a contemporary writer, Avoulcl be heard to the
conclusion." The Preface is more to be commended
than the work itself. As a commentator, he is certainly
far from successful.

The tour in Scotland produced, in 1775, his 'Jour-
ney to the Western Islands,' certainly one of his least
valuable writings. The strong prejudices against the
Scotch under which he laboured, and which he may be
said to have cherished, partly from perverseness, partly
in a kind of half jest, certainly do not break out as might
have been expected; and nothing can be more unfair
than tlie. attacks made upon him by the zeal of national
feeling as if he unjustly described a country in which he
had been hospitably received. This charge is so plainly
without foundation, nay, so kindly does he express him-
self, so respectfully, so gratefully of all with whom he
came in contact, and so just is he almost always to the
merits both of the country and its inhabitants, that no
one can hesitate to what cause he shall ascribe the violence
of the animosity excited by his book. Plad he only
believed in ' Ossian's Poems/ nothing would ever have
been heard but satisfaction with the ' Journey ' and re-
spect for its author. His opinion was strong, his argu-
ments were powerful : he plainly gave the right name to
an attempt at deceiving, which had failed with him : it
was highly offensive to those concerned in the fabrication,

JOHNSON. 65

and it was somewhat disrespectful to their dupes : his
unqualified opinion remained unrefuted ; his arguments
are to this day unanswered, and the believers found it
more easy to rail at him than to refute. But though the
work cannot be charged with unfairness or even with
prejudice, it must be admitted to be superficial and even
flimsy. Less entertaining than most books of travels, it
is solemn about trifles, and stately without excuse, so
as not rarely to provoke a smile, at the disproportion
between the sound and the sense. He has himself in the
concluding sentence of the book, very fairly stated the
reason why his remarks must needs have little value, his
inquiries be imperfect, and his wonder often misplaced ;
only that his want of information, which he confines to
national manners, is pretty generally apparent on all the
subjects he touches upon. " Novelty and ignorance must
always be reciprocal, and I cannot but be conscious that
my thoughts on national manners are the thoughts of one

•

who has seen but little."

We have now considered all his prose writings, except
the 'Lives of the Poets' his greatest and best. The
design of publishing a good and full edition of the English
Poets, had been formed by the booksellers in the year
1777, and they asked him to give a short life and
criticism, by way of preface, to each. They were to
choose the poets, and he was to write upon each one thus
selected. He at once agreed, and being desired to name
his price, very modestly fixed on 2001. ; but they gave
him 300/. He was afterwards allowed to recommend
the insertion of a few other lives : and it seems well to
have justified their being themselves the selectors, that
the four whom he added were Blackmore, Watts, Pom-
s'

66 JOHNSON.

frett, and Yalden, the worst in the collection, and of
whose works none ought to have been inserted, except
Pomfrett's ' Choice/ and perhaps a few passages of
Blackmore's ' Creation,' though nothing can be more
exaggerated than Johnson's praise of that poem, as
" transmitting him to posterity among the first favourites
of the English Muse."' The omission of Goldsmith in
this collection is wholly beyond one's comprehension ;
whether we regard the interests of the booksellers, or the
taste and the friendship of the biographer who had
caused the insertion of Blackmore and Yaldeu. These
prefaces, excepting that of Savage, the criticism on Pope's
' Epitaphs,' and one or two similar pieces, were all written
towards the end of his life : the first half being published
when he was seventy, and the remainder when he was
seventy-two years of age.

The merit of this work is very great, whether we
regard the matter or the style — for the composition is
far more easy and natural, far less pompous and stately,
and the diction both more picturesque and more simple
than in any other of his writings. The measured period,
the balance of sentences, and the cliffiiseness arising from
this desire of symmetry, is still in a good degree retained ;
but it is far less constant, and therefore palls less on the
appetite than in any of his former works.

The narrative lias no great merit, either in respect of
the composition, or in the fulness of its details: conse-

* It must be admitted, indeed, that Addison ('Spectator,' No. 339,)
had described this poem as " executed with great mastery," and as
" one of the noblest productions of English verse," but he plainly
was seduced by what he also mentions, its excellent intention, and
its usefulness in a religious view.

JOHNSON. 67

quently as a work of biography it has not any great claim
to our admiration. But some of the anecdotes are well
and shortly related, and some of the characters strikingly
and skilfully drawn, with a sufficiently felicitous selec-
tion of particulars and a remarkable force of diction.
There are not wanting declamatory passages of consider-
able power, but these are very inferior to the more quiet,
and graphic portions, and through the whole work there
prevails a tone of piety and virtue which shows the love
of these excellencies to have been deeply rooted in the
writer's mind, and to have always guided his feelings.
There is, too, an amiable desire shown to give merit its
reward ; nor do the author's prejudices interfere with this
just course, except in a very few instances, of political
feelings warping his judgment, or indignation at impiety
blinding him to literary excellence, or of admiration for
religious purity giving slender merits an exaggerated
value in his eyes. The justness of his taste may be in
all other cases admitted ; great critical acuteness is every-
where exercised; extensive reading of ancient and
modern poetry is shown ; and occasionally philosophical
subjects are handled with considerable happiness both of
thought and of illustration.

The general opinion has always held up Savage's life
as the master-piece of this work, but certainly under the
impression made by strong invective, powerful, though
somewhat turgid declamation. There is beyond com-
parison, more, both of historical genius, and of critical
acumen in the Lives of Dryden, of Cowley, and of Pope.

His 'Dryden' is distinguished by judicious and fair
criticism, both on the inimitable poems and as inimitable
prose of that great writer. Nothing especially can be

F2

68 JOHNSON.

finer or more correct than the estimate of his prose style,
and the concluding summary of his general merits as a
poet particularly, is not only full, but composed with a
simplicity and elegance which we shall in vain seek in
Johnson's earlier writings. " Perhaps no nation ever pro-
duced a writer that united his language with such a
variety of models. To him we owe the improvement,
perhaps the completion of our metre, the refinement of
our language, and much of the correctness of our senti-
ments. By him we were taught sapere et fan, to think
naturally and express forcibly. He taught us that it was
possible to reason in rhyme. He showed us the true
bounds of a translator's liberty. What was said of Rome,
adorned by Augustus, may be applied by an easy meta-
phor to English poetry, embellished by Dryden ; Later-
itiam invenit, marmoreain reliquit ; he found it brick and
he left it marble."

The ' Cowley' was by Johnson preferred to all his other
lives, owing probably to the masterly dissertation upon the
metaphysical poets, a name wrhich appears to have been
very inaccurately chosen, as their writings have nothing of
metaphysics but its occasional obscurity, and are rather
distinguished by pedantic display of misplaced learning,
and constant striving after wit, equally unseasonable and
far-fetched. Johnson's ' Essay' is, however, admirable in
every particular : full of sound remarks, eloquently com-
posed, sparkling with wit, rich in illustration, and, above
all, amply attaining its object, by giving a description of
the thing, the subject-matter, at once faithful and striking.
It must certainly be placed at the head of all his writings.
The criticisms on Cowley's various poems are equally to
be admired. Nothing can be more discriminating, more

-

JOHNSON. 69

learned, more judicious. Nor can we, when hurried on by
admiration of so much excellence and such just remarks,
pause upon the strange error with which the life of a
metaphysical poet sets out, in defining genius to be the
" mind's propensity to some certain science or employ-
ment," as if the will and the power were one and the
same thing.

In speculative or argumentative writing, the life of Pope
is not equal to that of Cowley ; yet while its critical merits
are fully equal, it excels that and all Johnson's other works,
in the skilful narrative and happy selection of particulars
to describe personal character and habits. His admiration
of Pope's poetry, its fine sense, its sustained propriety of
diction, its unbroken smoothness of versification, was great ;
it was natural to the similarity of his own tastes. Nor
was he ever patient of the affectation or the paradox
which denied Pope to be a poet. But he appears to
have had very little respect for his person, and he has
painted him in a manner to lower him almost without
any relief. It would be difficult to fancy a greater as-
semblage of small matters calculated to make their subject
look paltry, than we find in the eight or nine pages de-
voted to a description of him, — as his being "protuberant
behind and before;" " comparing himself to a spider;"
" being so low of stature, that he must be brought to a
level with the table by raising his seat ;" " being dressed
by the maid, and with difficulty kept clean." — "Sometimes
he used to dine with Lord Oxford privately, in a velvet
cap. His dress of ceremony was black, with a tie wig
and a little sword. When he wanted to sleep, he nodded
in company, and once slumbered at his own table, while
the Prince of Wales was talking of poetry."

Of his other Lives some, as that of Savage, have been
praised too much ; some, as that of Milton, too severely
censured. It cannot be denied that the former is written
with a rare power of invention, though somewhat swollen
and monotonous ; but its partiality to the subject, which
both blinds the author to his friend's defects, and fills
him with a very exaggerated idea of his poetical merits,
forms the principal defect. That he had strong prepos-
sessions against Milton's political opinions, cannot be
doubted; but it is extremely incorrect to affirm, as has
too generally been affirmed, that this feeling made him
unfair to that great poet's merits. No one can read his
criticism on 'Paradise Lost' without perceiving that he
places it next to the Iliad, and in some respects on an
equal, if not a higher level. His praise of it in the
' Rambler' is equally ample. His objections are not at
all groundless : and although to the lesser pieces he may
not be equally just, it is certain that except to the ' Lyci-
das' he shews no very marked unfairness, while, in ob-
serving the faults of the others, he largely commemorates
their beauties. The ' Life of Swift,' which, as a piece of
biography, stands high in the collection, is disfigured by
more prejudice than any other. The merits of that great
writer's poetry are almost entirely overlooked, and his
prose works, especially the ' Gulliver,' are undervalued in
a degree which, when we recollect Johnson's own talent
for sarcasm, and his proneness to see in a ludicrous light
the objects of his scorn or his aversion, would seem in-
comprehensible, or only to be explained by the suppo-
sition that his religious feelings were roused against one
whom he regarded as having, like Sterne, an object of
his special scorn, disgraced by his writings his sacred

JOHNSON. 71

•

profession. The prejudice which he entertained against
Gray, on the other hand, was entirely confined to his
poetry, which he on all occasions undervalued even much
more than he has ventured to do in the ' Life' of that
poet. He was used to call him dull in every sense, both
as a writer and in society.

Though generally just in his criticisms, yet he would
sometimes in conversation give his opinion with great
exaggeration, especially when his personal likings or dis-
likings were at issue : of this a memorable example is
given by Mr. Boswell. On Goldsmith's merits being the
subject of conversation, he dogmatically set him as an
historian above all those of this country, naming Robert-
son in particular, and admitting that he had never read
Hume.

It is not, however, only in works of judgment as his
criticisms, or of narrative as his lives, or of dissertation
and argument, as his moral and controversial writings,
that Johnson attained great eminence. In works of
imagination he is to be reckoned a very considerable
artist, and to be ranked clearly among the English
classics. The ' Rasselas' might not, of itself, have sufficed
to support this character, for it is cold in the colouring,
and shows little play of fancy, belonging to the class of
philosophical romances, the least fitted to excite a lively
interest, or to command continued attention unless when
enlivened by either great powers of wit, or recommended
by extraordinary beauty of composition, or ministering
to the love of novelty by strange opinions. While the
book which, in some respects, it most resembles, the
great master-piece of Voltaire, is not easily laid down by
him that takes it up for the hundredth time, the reader

72 JOHNSON.

who first attempts the ' Abyssinian Candide' feels that
he has imposed on himself a task rather than found a
pleasure or even a relaxation. The manner is heavy,
and little suited to the occasion ; the matter is of a very
ordinary fabric, if it is safe and wholesome ; there is
nothing that shines except the author's facility of writing
in a very artificial style, as soon as we are informed, by
external evidence, of the whole having been written in a
few nights. He, perhaps, had some kind of misgiving
that it was not a successful effort, for he had never
looked at it till two and twenty years after it was
written, when a friend happening to have it who was
travelling with him, Johnson read it with some eager-
ness.

But his Poetry belongs to a different rank. That his
Tragedy was a great failure on the stage has been already
related ; that it is of extreme dulness, of a monotony
altogether insufferable, and therefore tires out the reader's
patience quite as much as it did the auditors, is true ;
that most of his lesser pieces are only things of easy and
of fairly successful execution is likewise certain, with
perhaps the exception of his verses on Robert Levett's
death, which have a sweetness and a tenderness seldom
found in any of his compositions. But had he never
written anything after the ' Imitations of Juvenal,' his
name would have gone down to posterity as a poet of
great excellence — one who only did not reach equal
celebrity with Pope, because he came after him, and did
not assiduouslv court the muse.

tt

In truth, these two pieces are admirable, both for their
matter, their diction, and their versification. In close-
ness of imitation, indeed, they have a moderate degree

JOHNSON. 73

of merit, the original verse doing no more than furnishing
a peg whereon to hang the imitation, and often not even
that, and a line and a half of Latin being in one place
the only excuse for sixteen of English. But if we leave
on one side the Latin altogether, the poems are truly
excellent. They abound in sterling sense, happily clothed
in a language full of point, illustrated by as happy a
selection as possible of examples, though figures are very
sparingly introduced ; and the ear is as well filled with
the harmony of the correct and smooth verse as the mind
is with the rich, strong, and appropriate diction. There
is little metaphor introduced ; the fancy of the bard is
not much drawn upon ; his feelings are not at work to
affect those of his readers ; he is operating with the head
and upon the understanding; he is now and then indig-
nant, often contemptuous, once or twice only pathetic;
but for eloquence in harmonious verse, for intellectual
vigour tuned to numbers, it would be difficult to name
any higher feats in any tongue. Many of the remarks
already made on the moral and descriptive poetry of
Voltaire""' have their application to these great perfor-
mances ; and it is no small praise of any work of genius
that it may boast some similarity with what must be
admitted to bear away the palm from Voltaire's other
serious poems.

The most splendid and the most renowned passage in
these pieces is the Charles XII. ; finer by a good deal
than the Hannibal of Juvenal, of which it much rather
fills the place than betrays the imitation. The Charles
is certainly .finer than the Hannibal in all but one

* Vol. i:

74 JOHNSON.

point. There is nothing in Johnson to be compared
with the proud, insulting scorn of

I demens curre per Alpes,

Ut pueris placeas, et declamatio fias,

not lowered in the tone by Drjden's exquisite and literal
verse,

Go, climb the rugged Alps, ambitious fool,
To please the boys, and be a theme at school !

The Xerxes, too, of Juvenal is finer than the Xerxes
of Johnson, who has, however, added his Bold Bavarian,
one of the best passages of the kind in his poems.

Were I to name the lines that please me most in
these two pieces I should venture to give those in which
there are both an unusual mixture of pathos and a
happy play of imagination, as rare in Johnson's verse-
I mean the lines on Human Life.

" Now Sorrow rises as the day returns,
A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns.
Now kindred merit fills the sable bier,
Now lacerated friendship claims a tear;
Year chases year, decay pursues decay,
Still drops some joy from withering life away.
New forms arise and different views engage,
Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage,
Till pitying nature signs the last release,
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace."

Nothing, with perhaps the exception of the last
couplet but one, can be finer : and the couplet imme-
diately preceding that more doubtful one is most
admirable, giving an image at once lively, beautiful, and
appropriate. It is recorded of Johnson that he often
would repeat, with much emotion, those lines of the
Georgics, in a similar vein, and which probably he had
in his mind when he composed this beautiful passage.

JOHNSON. 75

Assuredly, we may in vain search all the Mantuan tracery
of sweets for any to excel them in the beauty of num-
bers, or in the tenderness of the sentiment, provided
we abstract them from the subject to which they are
applied.

" Optima quseque dies miseris mortalibus sevi
Prirna fugit; subeunt morbi tristisque seuectus;
Et labor, et dura3 rapit inclementia mortis."*

As far as close imitation goes, that is, translation, in
these finer poems, they fall immeasurably below the
noble verses of Dryden.

Thus the Xerxes of the latter is far finer than John-
son's, who never would have dared to make such a
translation as Dryden's of

" Altos

Deperisse omnes, epotaque flumina Medo
Prandente."

" Rivers, whose depth no sharp beholder sees,
Drink up an army's dinner to the lees."

Hardly would have ventured on this,

" Et madidis cantat quse Sostratus alis."

" With a long legend of romantic things
Which in his cups the boozy poet sings."

In the concluding passage of the Satire the two artists
approach each other, and the original, more nearly : but
Dryden is considerably above Johnson.

" Fortem posce animum et mortis timore carentem,
Qui spatium vitse extremum inter uumera ponit
Naturae."

* " Swift fly the joys to anxious mortals known,
Swiftest the sweetest, ere yet tasted, gone !
Disease, and toil, and age fill up our day,
And death relentless hurries us away."

76 JOHNSON.

is given much better, with more spirit, and very closely

by

" A soul that can securely death defy
And count it Nature's privilege to die ;"

than by

" For faith, that panting for a happier seat,
Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat."

And Dryden has nothing which corresponds to the
unintelligible verse,

"For Nature sovereign o'er transmuted ill."

The art of translation, in which Johnson's love of
accuracy qualified him to excel, as well as his facility
of pointed composition, was possessed in a much higher
degree by Dryden than either by Johnson or indeed by
any one else. That he was unequal in his versions, as in
all his works, is certain ; and his having failed to render
in perfection the diction of Virgil, which can hardly be
approached in any modern tongue but the Italian, is no
reason for overlooking his extraordinary genius displayed
in this most difficult line. I have always read with pain
the remarks on Dryden's translations, or rather on his
' Virgil,' in Mr. Campbell's ' Essay on English Poetry ;'
and the rather that, when estimating Dryden's power as
a translator, he scarcely mentions his ' Juvenal,' and s. ,ys
nothing at all of his 'Ovid' and 'Lucretius;' these,
with ' Juvenal,' being past all doubt among his greatest
works. But, indeed, he consigns to equal silence the
immortal Ode, which, with the exception of some pas-
sages in Milton, is certainly the first poem in our lan-
guage/" Had Mr. Campbell expressed himself coldly

I had often found in my deceased friend a disposition to under-
value that great ode. At length it broke out, the last time I saw

JOHNSON. 77

of such translations, such metrical doers into crabbed
and unpoetical English, as have of late been praised,
merely because readers, ignorant of Italian, wish to read
Dante without the help of a dictionary, he might have
more easily been forgiven. Towards Dryden he is
wholly unjust."" Nor had he apparently a due value for
the poetry of Johnson. He includes the ' Vanity of
Human Wishes' among the specimens, but he never
mentions Johnson at all among the poets whom he
commemorates. Bestowing so disproportioned a space
upon Goldsmith renders it plain that he undervalued
Johnson. For though Goldsmith is superior to him,
they are too near in merit, and come from schools too
much alike to authorize him who sets the one so high, to
neglect or undervalue the other.

him, just before he went to Boulogne, where he died. He expressed
himself with extreme bitterness of attack on the bad taste of the
world, for admiring it so highly; no one could doubt that his
jealousy was personally irritated; a feeling wholly unworthy of
one who had written his admirable songs. — I trust that nothing in
the text may be supposed to have been written with any disrespect
towards Mr. Campbell's Essay, which is a work in every way
worthy of its author. Maiiy of the critical observations have the
peculiar delicacy which might be expected from so eminent a poet.
Many parts of it are written with much felicity of diction. Some
passages shew all the imagination of a truly poetical genius. The
description for instance, of a launch, is fine poetry in all but the
rhythm.

* It is remarkable that Mr. Campbell, in selecting proofs from
Pope, (whom he most justly defends from all the puny attacks of
taste vitiated by theory, and judgment perverted by paradox,)
should, to shew his power of picturesque description, have omitted
the finest example of all, the Italy in his ' Dunciad :'

" To happy convents, buried deep in vines,
Where slumber abbots purple as their wines, &c.''

.

*

78 JOHNSON.

Of Johnson's Latin verses it remains to speak, and
they assuredly do not rise to the level of his English, nor
indeed above mediocrity. The translation of Pope's
' Messiah/ however, a work of his boyhood, gave a
promise not fulfilled in his riper years. His not unfre-
quent efforts in this line are neither distinguished by
the value of the matter nor the felicity of the diction ;
nor is he always correct in his quantity. Such offences
as 'Littera Skaise/ for an Adonian in his Sapphics to
'Thralia dulcis,' would have called down his severe cen-
sure on any luckless wight of Paris, or of Edinburgh,
\vho should peradventure have perpetrated them ; nor
would his being the countryman of Polignac, or of by
far the finest of modern Latinists, Buchanan, have ope-
rated except as an aggravation of the fault"".

It remains to consider Johnson's personal character
and habits. Nor can we here avoid, first of all, attend-
ing to the rank which he held among those who either
cultivate conversation as an art, or indulge in it as a
relaxation, both pleasing and useful, from severer occu-
pations. That there have been others who shone more
in society both as instructive and as amusing companions,
is certain. Swift's range was confined, but within its
limits he must have been very great. Addison, with an
extremely small circle, has left a great reputation in this
kind. Steele was probably more various and more lively,
though less delightful. But Bolingbroke's superiority to
all others cannot be doubted; and nearer our times
Burke could hardly be surpassed, though his refinement

* Varidbilis was always objected to by Parr, and it is not of pure
Latinity, though to be found, I believe, iu Apuleius, a mean
authority.

JOHNSON. 79

was little to be extolled; while in our own day Wind-
ham, with almost all that his friend possessed, had an
exquisite polish* to which none that have been named
but Bolingbroke could make any pretension. Yet,
whether because all these, except Steele, had important
public stations to fill, or because they did not so much
make society the business of their lives, or because their
very excellence in conversation prevented them from
being mannerists, or finally, because no one, except in
Swift's case, thought of giving their names the termi-
nation in ana; certain it is, that they do not fill any
thing like the same space with Johnson in this particular.
He lent himself, too, very readily, and, indeed, naturally
to occupying this foreground; for he delighted in dog-
matical sentences easily carried away; he spoke in an
epigram style that first seized on men's attention and
then fixed itself in their memory; he loved polemical
discussion, and was well fitted for it by his readiness, by
the flow of both his sayings and his point, and by the
plain and strong sarcasm which he had ever ready at a
call. His talk, indeed, was akin to his writings, for he
wrote off-hand, and just as easily as he spoke. He
loved to fill a chair, surrounded with a circle well known
to him, and ex cathedra to deliver his judgments. It
cannot be said, that this was any thing like a high style
of conversation ; it had nothing like full or free discus-
sion; it had little even like free interchange of senti-
ments or opinions; it was occasionally enlivened with
wit, oftener broken by a growl or a sneer from him and
from him alone ; but his part of it was always arrogant
and dictatorial; nor after men's curiosity had once been
gratified by assisting at one of these talks, did any but

80 JOHNSON.

the small number of his familiar and admiring friends
often desire to repeat the experiment. His talk was
most commonly for victory, rather than* directed to the
clearing up of rational doubt, or the ascertaining of
important truth : nor unless upon the serious subject of
religion, and upon some of the political points involved
in the Whig and Tory controversy, did he ever seem to
care much on which side he argued, dogmatised, laughed
boisterously, or sneered rudely. His manners were, in
some trifling particulars, formal and courtly ; that is to
say, he greatly regarded rank and station, bowed even
more profoundly to dignitaries of the church than
to temporal peers, and shewed overdone courtesy to
women, unless when his temper was ruffled by opposi-
tion; but in all that constitutes a well-bred person-
abnegation of self, equable manner, equal good humour
on all subjects of talk, undistinguishing courtesy to all
persons — it would not be easy to name any person more
entirely defective among those who have ever lived in
good company. His external and accidental defects
added much to the outward roughness, but were wholly
independent of the real want of good breeding by which
he was so much distinguished. His awkward motions —
his convulsive starts — his habit of muttering to himself—
his purblindness — his panting articulation — his uncouth
figure — were all calculated to impress the beholder with
the sense of his being an uncivilized person, but would all
have been easily forgotten had they only covered the essen-
tials of politeness, and not been the crust of manners
essentially unrefined. Of those personal peculiarities
Miss Burney has preserved a very lively representation :
" He is, indeed, very ill-favoured ! Yet he has natur-

JOHNSON. 8 1

ally a noble figure : tall, stout, grand, and authoritative ;
but he stoops horribly; his back is quite round; his
mouth is continually opening and shutting, as if he were
chewing something ; he has a singular method of twirling
his fingers and twisting his hands; his vast body is in
constant agitation, see-sawing backwards and forwards;
his feet are never a moment quiet ; and his whole great
person looked often as if it were going to roll itself, quite
voluntarily, from his chair to the floor.

"Since such is his appearance to a person so preju-
diced in his favour as I am, how I must more than ever
reverence his abilities, when I tell you that, upon asking
my father why he had not prepared us for such uncouth,
untoward strangeness, he laughed heartily, and said he
had entirely forgotten that the same impression had
been, at first, made upon himself, but had been lost even
on the second interview

" How I long to see him again, to lose it, too ! — for,
knowing the value of what would come out when he
spoke, he ceased to observe the defects that were out
while he was silent.

" But you always charge me to write without reserve
or reservation, and so I obey as usual. Else I should be
ashamed to acknowledge having remarked such exterior
blemishes in so exalted a character. His dress, consider-
ing the times, and that he had meant to put on all his
best becomes, for he was engaged to dine with a very fine
party at Mrs. Montagu's, was as much out of the common
road as his figure. He had a large, full, bushy wig, a
snuff-colour coat, with gold buttons, (or, peradventure,
brass,) but no ruffles to his doughty fists ; and not, I
suppose, to be taken for a Blue, though going to the

G

82 JOHNSON.

Blue Queen, he had on very coarse black worsted
stockings."'55'

They, however, who only saw this distinguished person
once or twice in society, were apt to form a very
erroneous estimate of his temper, which was not at all
morose or sullen, but rather kindly and sociable. He
loved relaxation ; he enjoyed merriment ; he even liked
to indulge in sportive and playful pleasantry, when his
animal spirits were gay — pleasantry, indeed, somewhat
lumbering, but agreeable, from its perfect heartiness.
Nothing can be more droll than the scene of this kind of
which Mr. Boswell has preserved the account, and into
the humour of which he seems to have been incapable of
entering. When some one was mentioned as having
come to Mr. (afterwards Sir Win.) Chambers, to draw his
will, giving his estate to Sisters, Johnson objected, as it
had not been gained by trade ; '"If it had/ said he, ' he
might have left it to the dog Towser, and let him keep
his own name." He then went on "laughing immode-
rately at the testator as he kept calling him. ' I dare
say/ said he, 'he thinks he has done a mighty thing ; he
won't wait till he gets home to his seat — he'll call up the
landlord of the first inn on the road, and, after a suitable
preface on mortality and the uncertainty of life, will tell
him that he should not delay making his will; 'and here,

* It is truly painful to say, what is the real truth, that so excel-
lent a writer as this lady once was, should have ended by being the
very worst, without any single exception, of all writers whose name
ever survived themselves. Such vile passages as this are in every
page of her late works, and are surpassed by others — " A sweetness
of mental attraction that magnetized longer from infirmity and
deterioration of intellect from decay of years." (II., 44.) Such
outrages are all but breaches of decorum.

JOHNSON. 83

Sir/ will he say, 'is my will, which I have just made, with
the assistance of one of the ablest lawyers in the king-
dom/ and he will read it to him, (laughing all the time.)
He believes he has made this will; but he did not make
it : you, Chambers, made it for him. I trust you have
had more conscience than to make him say 'being of
sound understanding' — ha ! ha ! ha ! I hope he has left
me a legacy. I'd have his will turned into verse, like a
ballad/ Mr. Chambers," says Boswell, " didn't by any
means relish this jocularity, upon a matter of which pars
magna fuit, and seemed impatient till he got rid of us.
Johnson couldn't stop his merriment, but continued it all
the way, till lie got without the Temple gate ; he then
burst into such a fit of laughter, that he appeared to be
almost in a convulsion, and, in order to support himself,
laid hold of one of the posts on the side of the foot pave-
ment, and sent forth peals so loud that, in the silence of
the night, his voice seemed to resound from Temple Bar
to Fleet Ditch." (II., 270.)

His laugh is described as being peculiarly hearty,
though like a good humoured growl; and one drolly
enough said, " he laughs like a rhinoceros." He was,
when in good spirits, ever ready for idleness, and even
frolic ; and his friend has recorded an amusing anecdote of
himself and Messrs. Beauclerk and Langton, once rousing

o O

him at three in the morning after dining in a tavern,
when he cheerfully got up and said they must " make a
day of it." So forth they sallied, played such pranks in
Covent Garden Market as boys broke loose from school
might indulge in, and ended by going down the river and
dining at Greenwich.

His love of children may be added to the account of

G2

84 JOHNSON.

his good humour and his kindness. This has indeed
been observed as often accompanying the melancholic
temperament, as if their innocence and defencelessness
were a relief and repose to the agitated mind. The
same love of children was observed in Sir Isaac Newton,
and it was an accompaniment of the case of which I have
already given the outlines. Johnson also liked the
society of persons younger than himself ; and to the last
had nothing of the severeness, querulousness, and dis-
content with the world, which the old are often seen to
shew. Indeed at all times of his life he liked to view
things rather on their light side, at least in discussion ;
and he was a decided enemy to the principles of those
who superciliously look down upon vulgar enjoyments, or
ascetically condemn the innocent recreations of sense.
Though he never at any period of his life, except during
his intimacy with Savage, was intemperate, (for his
often drinking alone as he said " to get rid of himself,"
must be regarded only as a desperate remedy attempted
for an incurable disease,) yet he loved at all times to
indulge in the pleasures of the table, and was exceed-
ingly fond of good eating, even while for some years he
gave up the use of wine. It was a saying of his in dis-
cussing the merits of an entertainment at which he had
been a guest, " Sir, it was not a dinner to ask a man
to." With the breakfasts in Scotland he expressed his
entire satisfaction : and in his ' Journey/ he says that
if he could " transport himself by wish, he should,
wherever he might be to dine, always breakfast in
Scotland."

All these, however, are trifling matters, only made im-
portant by the extraordinary care taken to record every

JOHNSON. 85

particular respecting his habits, as well as his more im-
portant qualities.

He was friendly and actively so, in the greatest degree ;
he was charitable beyond what even prudential conside-
rations might justify ; as firmly as he believed the Gospel,
so constantly did he practise its divine maxim, " that it
is more blessed to give than to receive." His sense of
justice was strict and constant ; his love of truth was
steady and unbroken, in all matters as well little as
great ; nor did any man ever more peremptorily deny the
existence of what are sometimes so incorrectly termed
white lies;' for he justly thought that when a habit of
being careless of the truth in trifling things once has
been formed, it will become easily, nay, certainly, appli-
cable to things of moment. His habitual piety, his sense
of his own imperfections, his generally blameless conduct
in the various relations of life, has been already suffi-
ciently described, and has been illustrated in the pre-
ceding narrative. He was a good man, as he was a great
man ; and he had so firm a regard for virtue that he
wisely set much greater store by his worth than by his
fame."'5'

* The edition of Boswell by my able and learned friend Mr.
Croker, is a valuable accession to literature, and the well known
accuracy of that gentleman gives importance to his labours. I have
mentioned one instance of his having been misled by the narrative
of Sir Walter Scott from neither having attended to the dates. —
Supra, p. 58.

ADAM SMITH.

WITH AN ANALYSIS OF HIS GREAT WORK.

IN the last years of the seventeenth century were born
two men, who laid the foundation of ethical science as
we now have it, greatly advanced and improved beyond
the state in which the ancient moralists had left it, and
as the modern inquirers took it up after the revival of
letters, Bishop Butler and Dr. Hutchinson. The former,
bred a Presbyterian, and exercised in the metaphysical
subtleties of the Calvinistic school, had early turned his
acute and capacious mind to the more difficult questions
of morals, and having conformed to the Established Church,
he delivered, as preacher at the Rolls Chapel, to which
office he was promoted by Sir Joseph Jekyll, at the
suggestion of Dr. Samuel Clarke, a series of discourses, in
which the foundations of our moral sentiments and our
social as well as prudential duties were examined with
unrivalled sagacity. The latter having published his
speculations upon the moral sense, and the analogy of
our ideas of beauty and virtue, while a young teacher
among the Presbyterians in the north of Ireland, was
afterwards for many years Professor of Moral Philosophy
in the University of Glasgow, and there delivered his
Lectures, which, by their copious illustrations, their amiable

ID) A

THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND
TILD?N FOUNDATIONS.

ADAM SMITH. 87

tone of feeling, their enlightened views of liberty and
human improvement, and their persuasive eloquence, made
a deeper impression than the more severe and dry com-
positions of Butler could ever create, and laid the foun-
dation in Scotland of the modern ethical school. In this
he restored and revised, rather than created a taste for
moral and intellectual science, which had prevailed in
the fifteenth and early in the sixteenth centuries, but
which the prevalence of religious zeal and of political
faction had for above two hundred years extinguished.
He restored it, too, in a new, a purer, and a more rational
form, adopting, as Butler did nearly at the same time,
though certainly without any communication, or even
knowledge of each other's speculations, the sound and
consistent doctrine which rejects as a paradox, and indeed
a very vulgar fallacy, the doctrine that all the motives of
human conduct are directly resolvable into a regard for
self-interest.* Nothing more deserving of the character
of a demonstration can be cited than the argument in a
single sentence, by which he overthrows the position, that

* Hutchiuson had taught his doctrines in Dublin some years
before Butler's ' Sermons ' were published in 1726, and had even pub-
lished his ' Inquiry into Beauty and Virtue,' for the second edition
of that work appeared in the same year. The ' Sermons' had
indeed been preached at the Rolls, where he began to officiate as
early as 1718 ; but nothing can be more unlikely than that any
private intimation of their substance should have been conveyed to
the young Presbyterian minister in Ireland. Indeed, his book was
written soon after he settled at the academy, in 1716, which he
taught near Dublin ; for the Lord- Lieutenant, Lord Molesworth,
who was appointed in that year, revised the manuscript of it. Butler
and Hutchinson were contemporaries ; one born 1692, the other
1694. Dr. Smith was born considerably later, in 1723; Mr. Hume
in 1711.

88 ADAM SMITH.

we seek other men's happiness, because by so doing we
gratify our own feelings. This presupposes, says he,
that there is a pleasure to ourselves in seeking their hap-
piness, else the motive, by the supposition, wholly fails.
Therefore there is a pleasure as independent of selfish
gratification, as the thing pursued is necessarily some-
thing different from the being that pursues it.

These two great philosophers, then, may be reckoned
the founders of the received and sound ethical system,
to which Tucker, by his profound and original specula-
tions, added much. Hartley and Bonnet, who were a few
years later, only introduced a mixture of gross error in
their preposterous attempts to explain the inscrutable
union of the soul and the body, and to account for the
phenomena of niiiid by the nature or affection of the
nerves; while at a somewhat earlier date, Berkeley, an
inquirer of a much higher order, had applied himself to
psychological, and not to ethical studies.

As ethics in its extended sense comprehends both the
duties and capacities, and the moral and intellectual
qualities of individuals, and their relations to each other
in society, so may it also extend to the interests and the
regulation of society, that is, to the polity of states, in both
its branches, both the structure and the functions of govern-
ment, with a view to securing the happiness of the people.
Hence it may include everything that concerns the rights,
as well as the duties of citizens, all that regards their
good government, all the branches of jurisprudence, all
the principles that govern the production and distribution
of wealth, the employment and protection of labour, the
progress of population, the defence of the state, the edu-
cation of its inhabitants ; in a word, political science,

ADAM SMITH. 89

including, as one of its main branches, political economy.
When, therefore, ethical speculations had made so great
progress, it was natural that this important subject should
also engage the attention of scientific men ; and we iind,
accordingly, that in the early part of the eighteenth
century the attention of the learned and, in some but in a
moderate degree, of statesmen also, was directed to these
inquiries. Some able works had touched in the pre-
ceding century upon the subjects of money and trade.
Sound and useful ideas upon these were to be found
scattered through the writings of Mr. Locke. But at a
much earlier period, Mr. Min, both in 1621 and 1664,
had cornbatted successfully, as far as reasoning went,
without any success in making converts, the old and
mischievous, but natural fallacy, that the precious metals
are the constituents of wealth. Soon after Min's second
work, ' The Increase of Foreign Trade/ Sir Win. Petty
still further illustrated the error of those who are afraid
of an unfavourable balance of trade, and exposed the
evil policy of regulating the rate of interest by law. A
few years before Sir Wm. Petty's most celebrated work,
his ' Anatomy of Ireland/ appeared Sir Josiah Child's
'Discourse of Trade/ 1668, in which, with some errors
on the subject of interest, he laid down many sound views
of trade, the principle of population, and the absurdity
of laws against forestalling and regrating. In 1681 he
published his ' Philopatris/ which shews the injurious
effects of monopolies of every kind, and explains clearly
the nature of money. But Sir Dudley North's ' Discourse/
published in 1691, took as clear and even as full a view
of the true doctrines of commerce and exchange as any
modern treatise ; building its deductions upon the fun-

90 ADAM SMITH.

damental principle which lies at the root of all these
doctrines, that, as to trade, the whole world is one country,
of which the natives severally are citizens or subjects ;
that no laws can regulate prices ; and that whatever
injures any one member of the great community injures
the whole.

It must be observed that beside the treatises thus
early published on oeconoinical science, we find occasionally
very sound doctrines unfolded, and very just maxims of
policy laid down, by well known writers, who incidentally
touch upon O3conornical subjects in works written with
other views. Thus Fenelon, in his celebrated romance
of ' Telernachus/ has scattered various reflexions of the
truest and purest philosophy, upon the theory of com-
mercial legislation, as well as upon many other depart-
ments of administration. It is due to the memory of a
Romish prelate, and a royal preceptor in an absolute
monarchy, to add that all his writings breathe a spirit of
genuine religious tolerance, and of just regard to the
civil rights and liberties of mankind.

In the eighteenth century, the writers of Italy appear
to have taken the lead in these inquiries. The active
and lively genius of the people, the division of the country
into small states, the access to the ears of the Government
which this naturally gives to learned men, the interest in
the improvement of his country which the citizen of a
narrow community is apt to feel, gave rise to such a mul-
titude of writers on subjects of political economy, that
when the Government of the Italian Republic, with a
princely liberality, directed Custodi to publish a collection
of their works at the public expense, in 1803, they were
found to fill no less than fifty octavo volumes.

ADAM SMITH. 91

The earliest of these writings, which lay down sound
principles to guide commercial legislation, is the Memoir
(' Discorso Ecoiiomico') of Antonio Bandini of Siena,
addressed in 1737 to the Grand Duke of Tuscany upon
the improvement of the great Mareninia district. The
author recommended free trade in corn ; advised the
granting of leases to tenants, that they might have an
interest in the soil ; and proposed the repeal of all vexa-
tious imposts, and a substitution in their stead of one
equal tax upon all real property, without excepting either
the lands of the nobles or of the church. This able and
enlightened work, in which the germs of the French
economical doctrines are plainly unfolded, was only pub-
lished in 1775; but when Leopold succeeded his brother
in 1765, he showed his accustomed wisdom and virtue
in the government of Tuscany, by adopting many of
Bandini's suggestions for improving the Maremma. Other
writers followed in the same course. Fernando Galiaui.
of Naples, published in 1750 his treatise, 'Delia Moneta/
explained on sound principles that the precious metals
are only to be regarded as merchandise, and shewed
clearly the connexion between value and labour. The
discourse, Sopra i Bilanci delle Nazione., by Carli, of
Capo d'Istria, in 1771, laid down the true doctrine
respecting the balance of trade. Genovesi, a Neapolitan,
in 1768, supported the position of perfect freedom in
the corn trade, though not in that of other merchandise
or of manufactures. But in 1769, Pillo Verri, a Milan-
ese, in his work, '•Suite Legg'i Vincolanti,' maintained
the doctrine of absolute and universal freedom of com-
merce. The same thing was mentioned about the same

92 ADAM SMITH.

period in the work of Ferdinando Paoletti, a Florentine,
entitled, ' Veri Mezzi di rendere felice le Societal So
that, before and after the French economists' began their
useful and enlightened labours, the fundamental doctrine
of Adam Smith's celebrated work had been laid down by
a great number of writers in the different parts of the
Italian Peninsula."5'

The progress made in France by the same class of
philosophers and statesmen was very considerable, and
about the same time. Although the Italian writers rather
preceded, yet there is no doubt their works were unknown
beyond the Alps for many years after the French had
applied themselves successfully to the cultivation of
economical science. It is supposed, and apparently with
reason, that a mercantile man, who also held the rank of
a landed gentleman, Vincent Seigneur de Gournay of
St. Malo, educated for trade at Cadiz, but always a bold
thinker and a diligent student, was the first who adopted
the principles of a liberal and enlightened commercial
policy. His reputation both as an eminent merchant
and as a learned inquirer had become considerable, when
he was appointed, in 1751, to the office of Intendant de
Commerce, answering in some sort to our President of
the Board of Trade. His administration was a constant
struggle with the narrow prejudices of the old system,
which rests on encouragement, protection, prohibition,
endless intermeddling with the distribution of capital,

* Not having access to Custodi's work, and only having seen
some of the treatises contained in it, I have relied on the statement
given in the learned article on Political Economy, ('Penny Cyclo-
paedia/ vol. xviii. p. 339-40.)

ADAM SMITH. 93

and the employment of labour. He was so often and so
powerfully thwarted, that his reforms were anything but
complete. All he attempted was in the right direction;
and M. Turgot, his disciple, who afterwards, in his own
administration of the higher department of finance,
carried the same views farther, has given us a luminous
abstract of those sound principles which De Gournay
laid down. The duty of government, according to him,
was to give all branches of industry that freedom of
which the monopolizing spirit of different classes had so
long deprived them ; to protect men in making whatever
use they please of their capital, their skill, their industry ;
to open among the makers and sellers of all goods the
greatest competition, for the benefit of the buyers in the
low price and good quality of the things sold, and among
buyers the greatest competition, that the producer or the
importer may have the due stimulus to his exertions ;
and to trust the natural operations of men's interests for
the increase of national wealth and the general improve-
ment of society, when all fetters are removed, and all
absurd and pernicious encouragements by the State with-
held.

It was not for some years after these enlightened and
rational principles had been adopted, promulgated, and
acted upon by M. de Gournay, that Dr. Qtiesnay, who
had, from his youth upwards, attended to agricultural
questions, and even somewhat to farming pursuits, but
had been always immersed in the studies of his profes-
sion, began to cultivate economical science. He had
published several works of the greatest ability and learn-
ing on medical and surgical subjects, had acquired exten-
sive practice, and risen to the rank of the King's first

94 ADAM SMITH.

physician'5- before he had matured his speculations so as
to publish any treatise on political subjects ; and though
he was eighteen years older than M. de Gournay, the
latter had been several years at the head of the com-
mercial administration before the doctor's first work

' A very interesting work was published by my worthy friend
Mr. Quintiu Crawford, in/his ' Melanges d'Histoire et de Litterature,'
being the journal of Madame de Hausset, the waiting gentlewoman
of Madame de Pompadour. It contains some anecdotes of Dr.
Quesnay extremely curious and characteristic, and shows on what
an intimately familiar footing the great philosopher lived with the
royal voluptuary, who had the sense to relish his conversation, and
used to call him " his thinker," (mon penseur.) Mr. Crawford
gives an accurate sketch of his character ; and after mentioning
that his followers always termed him " Le Maitre," and decided
their disputes by " Le Maitre 1'a dit," like the disciples of Plato,
he tells us that, at his death, a funeral oration was pronounced by
M. de Mirabeau, before the assembled sect, all in deep mourning.
He adds, what may easily be believed, that this discourse was a
" chef-d'oauvre de ridicule et d'absurdite." A great discussion, as
it seems to me on a question very unimportant, has been raised by
political economists, not much to the credit of their philosophical
feelings, whether Quesnay 's family were of as low a station as some
represent them, and whether it be really true that they could not
afford to have him taught to read in his boyhood. Surely the
Memoirs of the Academy must be reckoned a decisive authority on
this question. In the historical part of the volume for 1774, it is
distinctly stated, as a matter well known, (p. 122,) that his father
was an Avocat au Parlement de Moutfort, and an intimate friend
of the Procureur du Roi. Grimm mentions Quesnay in a very dif-
ferent manner from most others. He thus speaks of the economists
and the great founder of their sect : — " Depuis que 1'ceconomie
politique est devenue en France la science a la mode, il est forme
une secte qui a voulu dominer dans cette partie. M. Quesnay s'est
fait chef de cette secte." — " Le vieux Quesnay est un cynique decide.
M. de Fobernais n'est pas tendre; aiusi cette querelle ue se passera
pas sans quelques faits d'armes." (CoRR.) He repeatedly gives
him the same epithet of cynique ; probably the light conversation of
Grimm had not attracted his notice, or gained his respect.

ADAM SMITH. 95

appeared — his excellent papers on the Corn Trade in the
Encyclopaedia.* His celebrated ' Tableau Economique'
in which the accumulation and distribution of wealth is
stated with great ingenuity and originality, though in a
somewhat abstruse form, appeared in 1758 ; and his
greatest work, the ' Physiocratie,' ten years later. His
doctrine was, that the cultivation of the soil alone adds
to the wealth of any state ; that they alone who till the
ground are entitled to be called productive labourers ;
that their industry alone yields a net or clear produce
('produit net') in the shape of rent over and above the
expense of raising it by paying the workman's wages,
and replacing with the ordinary profit the capital ex-
pended ; that all other labour, as that of manufacturers
who fashion the raw produce, of merchants or retail
dealers who distribute it, whether raw or worked up,
and professional men who do not operate upon produce
at all, are, though highly useful, yet wholly and all
equally unproductive, because those classes only receive
their wages, or the profit of their stock, from the produc-
tive class — the agriculturists. From this theory he
deduced practical inferences all of great importance, but
of different degrees of value or accuracy ; that all com-
merce, both external and internal, both in the raw and
manufactured produce of any country, should be left
entirely free ; that all industry of every class should be
alike unfettered ; that all men should be left to employ
their capital and their labour as their own view of their
own interest directs them ; that no tax should be im-

* The article 'Fermier' appeared in 1756; 'Grains' in 1757;
M. Turgot's able articles appeared in 1756.

96 ADAM SMITH.

posed on any goods or any labour except a single impost,
and that upon the net produce, the rent of land — this
(the impot fonciere) taking the place of all others, and
alone being levied to support the state.

Dr. Quesnay's ingenuity and learning, the boldness of
his views, their great simplicity, their originality, all
made a powerful impression ; but from these very causes,
and still more from the harshness and obscurity of the
style in which they were unfolded— perhaps one might
say enfolded, — they were better calculated to find accept-
ance with the learned few than with the general mass of
readers. Upon these few, however, they soon made a
deep impression, which was increased by their author's
simple and amiable manners, his exemplary purity,
though living in a corrupt court, and the admirable
talent which he had in conversation, of exposing his doc-
trines, like our Franklin, by the aid of apposite fables or
apologues. He became thus easily the leader, or head of
a sect, and he was looked up to by his disciples with the
same reverence that the followers of the ancient sages
paid to the objects of their veneration. The Marquis of
Mirabeau, father of the famous revolutionary leader ;
M. Mercier de la Riviere ; M. Dupont de Nemours ;
M. Condorcet, and M. Turgot, for some time Controller
General of the Finances, were the most celebrated of this
school. Their chief died as early as 1774, but they con-
tinued to instruct mankind by their writings, which,
however ingenious and learned, were almost all deprived
of their full effect upon the bulk of readers, by the dry,
scholastic, and even crabbed style in which they were
composed, and the want of that simple arrangement
and that plain manner of unfolding their system which

ADAM SMITH. 97

forms the first and the essential merit of didactic com-
position.

It must be added that on the structure of government,
the doctrines of the sect were far less enlightened than
upon its functions. While they held the whole happiness
of society to depend upon a wise and honest administra-
tion of the supreme power in the state, they never con-
sidered how necessary it was to provide a security for
that course being pursued, by establishing checks upon
the rulers. Their doctrine was that what they called
a despotisme legale, or an absolute power vested in the
sovereign, and exercised according to fixed laws, is the
most perfect form of government; and they entirely
forgot that either no change whatever can be made in
these laws, let ever so great a change happen in the cir-
cumstances of the community, or that all laws may be
abrogated or altered at the monarch's pleasure, and thus,
that the epithet " legal" dropt from their definition. In
short they forgot, that their theory to be tolerable re-
quired the despot to be an angel, in which case, no doubt,
their constitution would be perfect, but in no other. It
is singular, that with all this, we find in the authentic
accounts of their founder's habits that he never could
feel at his ease in the presence of Louis XV., and confes-
sed his reason to be, his thinking all the while that he
stood before a man who had the power of destroying him.
This is recorded in the Memoirs to which I have above re-
ferred, and we find two instances in the same work, illus-
trating the practical operation of the " despotisme legale"
To the Doctor's great dismay, M. de Mirabeau, his steady
follower, was suddenly hurried away to the fortress of
Vincennes, because an expression in his speculative work

H

.()8 ADAM .SMITH.

on Taxation being misunderstood by the King, had given
him offence ; and when Turgot was anxious to obtain the
King's assent, on the occasion of his proposing one of the
great municipal reforms which he supported, he took the
indirect, if not humiliating course of speaking to the
Doctor and to the mistress's waiting-woman, to whom
the Doctor gave a note of the plan, which by this circuit
reached the Royal ear.

But our view of what has been accomplished in econo-
mical science, before the period to which the following
Life refers, would be most imperfect, if we passed over the
Essays of Mr. Hume. They were published in 1752, and
gave the first clear refutation of the errors which had so
long prevailed in Commercial Policy, and the first phi-
losophical as well as practical exposition of those sound
principles, which ought to be the guide of statesmen in
their arrangements, as well as of philosophers in their
speculations upon this important subject. I have already
treated of this admirable work in the life of that illustri-
ous writer/'5'

It was necessary to give a summary of the progress
which had been made in ethical and economical philoso-
phy before the time of Dr. Smith, in order that we might
duly appreciate the invaluable services which he rendered
to both those branches of science, and to prevent us from
supposing, as men are always prone to do, that he whose
merit as a great improver can hardly be estimated too
highly, was also the creator of the system which he so
largely contributed to extend and to consolidate. We
may now proceed to the history of his life.

Adam Smith was born at Kirkaldy, in the Scotch

* Vol. I.

ADAM SMITH. 99

county of Fife, on the 5th of June, 1 723, and was a
posthumous child, his father having died a few months
before. That gentleman was Controller of the Customs
at the port, having been originally bred to the law, and
afterwards held the office of Private Secretary to Lord
Loudon, Secretary of State, and keeper of the Great Seal.
His wife was a daughter of Mr. Douglas, of Strathenry.
They had no other child but the philosopher, whose edu-
cation devolved upon his mother, and was most carefully
and affectionately conducted.

When a child of only three years old, he was stolen by
a gang of the vagrants, called in Scotland, tinkers, and
resembling gipsies in their habits — the same race which
Fletcher of Saltoun describes as having in his day be-
come so numerous as to form a considerable proportion of
the Scottish people. It was a fortunate circumstance,
that being soon missed, his uncle, at whose house he was
residing, pursued the wretches, and restored him to his
affrighted parent.

He received the first rudiments of his education at the
school of David Miller, an eminent teacher, several of
whose pupils filled important public stations in after life.
Being of weak constitution in his early years, books formed
his only amusement, and his companions retained all
their lives a lively recollection of his devotion to reading
and of the great tenacity of his memory. He was also
remarkable even in those early days for that absence
which so distinguished him in company ever after. At
the age of fourteen, as is usual in Scotland, he was sent
to the University, and remained at Glasgow for three
years, when he obtained an exhibition to Baliol College.

At Oxford he remained for seven years, and applied

H 2

10(1 ADAM SMITH.

himself to the acquisition of various learning. He became
master of both ancient and modern languages, and exer-
cised himself in translation, especially from the French,
a mode which, like his illustrious friend Robertson, he
always recommended, as tending to improve the student's
style, by giving a facility in the use of his own language.
But it is somewhat remarkable that his chief study was
of mathematical and physical science, a walk little fre-
quented at the University, and which, except as subser-
vient to other speculations, he himself appears to have
ever after abandoned. For some time, however, he must
have retained both the taste and the capacity for those
exalted studies ; for Mr. Stewart recollects his father,
the celebrated geometrician, reminding him of a problem
proposed to him by Dr. Simson, which had occupied his
attention after he had left College, and had come to
reside at Glasgow.

On his return from Oxford he went to reside for two
years at Kirkaldy with his mother, for whom he enter-
tained through his whole life an extraordinary and a
perfectly well-grounded affection, being ever happier in
her society than in any other ; and he enjoyed the un-
speakable blessing of having her days prolonged till he
had himself reached a good old age. The plan of his
family had been, that he should enter the English
Church, and with this view he had been sent to Oxford.
But Mr. Stewart says, that he did not find this profes-
sion suit his tastes ; perhaps it did not accord with his
habits of thinking; certain it is that he abandoned all
thoughts of it, and contented himself with those chances
of very moderate preferment which the Scotch Univer-
sities present to lovers of literature and science.

ADAM SMITH. 101

It is clearly proved by the course and by the tone of
his remarks on English universities,"55' that the discipline
and habits of Oxford had in no way gained either his
affection or his respect. Probably he could not easily
forget the silly bigotry which caused his superiors to
seize his copy of Hume's ' Treatise of Human Nature'
when he was surprised reading it, and to administer a
reprimand for the offence.

In 1748 he removed to Edinburgh, accompanied by
his mother; and he read for about three years a course
of Lectures on Rhetoric under the patronage of Lord
Kames, himself a very successful follower of critical
studies, and whose writings were the first to introduce in
this island a sound philosophy upon those subjects. Dr.
Smith also became intimately acquainted with the emi-
nent men of letters who then adorned the Scottish
capital, and some of whom were not yet well known to
the world. Mr. Hume, Dr. Robertson, Dr. Blair, were
among those literary men ; Mr. Wedderburue afterwards
Lord Loughborough, and Mr. Johnstone afterwards Sir
William Pulteney, were severally members of the Scot-
tish Bar. In 1751 he was elected to the Professorship
of Logic in the University of Glasgow, which he ex-
changed the year after for that of Moral Philosophy. It
had till four years before been filled by Hutcheson,
under whom he had studied with all the admiration
which the ingenuity and eloquence of that great teacher
so naturally inspired, and with the affection which was
commanded by his amiable character.

This important situation of a public teacher, one

* ' Wealth of Nation,?,' b. v., c. 1.

102 ADAM SMITH.

of the most exalted to which any man can aspire, was
certainly of all others the most perfectly adapted to his
genius, as it was the best suited to his habits and his
tastes ; for the love of speculation was in him combined
with the desire of communicating information to others
and of promoting their improvement. Even in society
all his life, there was something didactic in the style of
his conversation. He was fond of laying down princi-
ples, illustrating them, and tracing their consequences.
He was not, indeed, in such careless discussions, always
either very practical or very reflecting and circumspect
as to conclusions ; and his hasty opinions, whether of
men or of things, were often the result of momentary
impressions, which he was quite ready to correct upon
reconsideration. But the interest which he took in his
subject always animated his discourse; and no one
could more appropriately, or with greater claims to his
hearer's attention, illustrate the bearing of the truths
which he meant to convey. His language, too, was
choice, both elegant, various, and plain; his manner
having been formed upon the best models which he had,
as we have seen, diligently studied, as indeed he had the
principles of rhetoric, the subject of his earliest lectures.
Nor had he any difficulty of extempore composition,
though like many greater speakers, he at first was apt to
hesitate until he became warmed with his subject, and
then he could prelect with as great fluency of language
as copiousness of illustration. It may thus be well
supposed that on the subjects of his lectures, when he
had given them the full consideration which was required
for preparing himself, he could convey instruction in a
manner at once sound, luminous, and attractive. Accord-

ADAM SMITH. 103

iugly we find all accounts agree in representing him as
a teacher of the very highest order, and his pupils as
receiving instruction with a respect approaching to
enthusiasm. Even the talents of Hutcheson had failed
to recommend these studies to as general and cordial
acceptation. The taste for metaphysical and ethical
inquiries was greatly increased; discussions of the doc-
trines he taught became the favourite occupation in all
the literary circles, and formed the subjects of debate in
the clubs and societies of the place; even the pecu-
liarities of his manner and pronunciation were eagerly
caught up and imitated, though there was nothing
which he less affected than the graces of delivery, and
nothing in which he less excelled; but it seemed like
the free and spontaneous tribute to genius and learning
which courtly servility had paid to one monarch by
assuming his wry neck, and to another by adopting his
false grammar,'" so that he may perhaps be allowed to
have more than any other celebrated teacher of our own
times, attained the observance with which the ancient
sects cultivated their masters, while his friend and co-
adjutor, De Quesnay, in this respect passed all who
never actually taught.

The late eminent Professor Millar, who had been a
pupil of Dr. Smith's, and who remained to his death one
of his most intimate friends, has given a valuable account
of his lectures which Mr. Stewart inserted in his ' Bio-
graphical Sketch/ When he taught the Logic Class, he

* Augustus and Louis XIV. Happily the Roman parasites
could not, like the Parisians, bequeath their monarch's deformity,
but mon carosse is still French.

104 ADAM SMITH.

appears to have rather converted the course into one
upon rhetoric and belles lettres, only giving an introduc-
tory view of the School Logic and Metaphysics. The
reason given for what appears to me a great departure
from the proper duties of that chair, is, that he con-
sidered the best illustration of the mental powers to con-
sist in examining the several ways of communicating our
thoughts by speech, and tracing the principles upon which
literary composition becomes most subservient to per-
suasion or entertainment. It really seems difficult to
imagine a more unsatisfactory reason for teaching rhe-
toric as logic. The diiference of the two studies was
much more accurately perceived by another great light,—
Lord Coke, who places them rather in contrast than in
resemblance to each other, when he quaintly compares the
original writ to logic, and the count or pleading to rhetoric,
which assuredly it only resembles in being as unlike
logic, as the plea is unlike the writ. But I apprehend,
that whatever might be given as a ratio justifica, the
ratio suasoria was the accidental possession of a course
of lectures already delivered in Edinburgh in his earlier
years; and that, had this course been directed to ex-
plain the learning of the Schools, the rules of argumenta-
tion, the principles of classification, and the limits of the
various branches of science, the proper office of logic, we
should not have heard of the somewhat unaccountable
theory which has been cited from Mr. Millar's note.

After one course, however, of this description, he
taught Moral Philosophy for twelve years, with extraor-
dinary ability and the greatest success. It is most
deeply to be lamented that of the four branches into
which his course was divided, the two most interesting

ADAM SMITH. 105

should not have reached us, the MS. having been de-
stroyed a short time before his death. He first unfolded
the sublime and important truths of Natural Theology,
and the faculties and principles of the mind on which
it rests, by far the most elevated of all human specula-
tions, and one, as Archbishop Tillotson * has most soundly
declared, which so far from being worthy of jealousy on
their part who maintain the doctrines of Revelation, is
of necessity the very foundation essential to support its
fabric. Whether we regard the hopes of man as built
upon his unassisted reason, or as confirmed by the light
of religion, no study can match that of Natural Theology
in the loftiness of its nature, and the importance of
its tendency. — " Neque cum homines ad Deos ulla re
proprius accedunt quam salutum hominibus dando."
(Cic. 'Pro Lig.') He next explained the doctrines of
Ethics, or the rules and principles by which men judge of
the qualities in point of wisdom and goodness, of human

* " All religion is founded upon right notions of God and his perfec-
tion, insomuch that divine revelation itself does suppose those for its
foundations, and can signify (disclose or reveal) nothing to us unless
they be first known and believed. For unless we be first firmly per-
suaded of the providence of God and of his superintendence over man-
kind, why should we suppose that he makes any revelation of his will
to us? Unless it be first actually known that God is a God of truth,
what ground is there for believing his word 1 So that the principles
of natural religion are the foundations of that which is revealed."
(Serm. xli.) This sermon was preached before the King and Queen
27th October, 1692, at the thanksgiving for the naval victory, and
contains even a more searching exposure of the errors of Romanism
than the celebrated sermon (xl.) on the Church of Rome. The
sermon on " Steadfastness in Religion," seems to me his Grace's other
great masterpiece in contending with Rome. It is a demonstration
of the great practical doctrine of the right of private judgment, and
it tallies in spirit with the above passage in the 41.t-t.

106 ADAM SMITH.

action. The third division of his course was, properly
speaking, a branch of the second ; it embodied general
jurisprudence, the structure of government, and the theory
of legislation. In the fourth and last branch he treated
of the principles upon which the wealth, power, and
generally the prosperity of communities depend, and of
the institutions relating to commerce, finance, instruction,
and defined, in a word, the functions of government as
contradistinguished from its structure. Of the second
and fourth divisions he afterwards gave the substance in
his published works ; unhappily, the whole of his papers
containing the first and the third series of Lectures, were
destroyed by himself some time before he died, together
with the Lectures on Rhetoric, which are described by Mr.
Millar as having been composed with extraordinary care,
and as having contained critical discussions of great deli-
cacy of taste, as well as extensive learning. I cannot
help regarding it as a circumstance however unfortunate
for the world, peculiarly happy for his executors, that
these invaluable manuscripts were not left in their hands,
with the injunction which his will contained to burn
them, for if ever men can be conceived to lie under a
temptation to strain at placing their public duty in
opposition to their private obligations, it certainly would
have been those eminent persons, Dr. Black and Dr.
Hutton, shrinking from the painful office of performing
the trusts of their friend's will.

While Dr. Smith was engaged in the duties of his
Professorship at Glasgow, he published the first works
which he gave to the world. In 1755 he contributed
to the ' Edinburgh Review,' of which I have spoken in
the ' Life of Robertson,' a paper of great merit, being a

ADAM SMITH. 107

criticism on Johnson's Dictionary. Allowing full praise to
the merits of that important work, he jet very clearly shewed
the want of strict philosophical principle with which it is
justly chargeable, the different senses of words being rarely
arranged in classes, or the particular modifications of
each signification under the more general, and as it were
leading or prevailing sense, and words apparently syno-
nymous, being very often distinguished with little care.
He illustrates his remarks by examining the words, but
and humour, as given by Johnson, and by giving them on
his own more systematic plan. The article is masterly
in all respects, and carries conviction to every attentive
reader. The specimen is as well executed as possible,
and makes it a matter of regret, not indeed that the
author should have confined his own labours as a lexi-
cographer to pointing out the way instead of walking in
it himself, but that his plan should not have been adopted
and executed by others whose labour might have been
better spared for so useful a work. This service to letters,
indeed to science itself, still remains to be rendered, and
if individuals should be scared from so toilsome an
undertaking, it seems well suited to the joint exertions of
some literary society. The zeal and activity of Voltaire,
it may be mentioned, broke out almost on his death-bed,
in persuading his colleagues of the Academy to accomplish
a work of this kind, in some sort fellow to the one I
speak of ; for it was to remodel their Dictionary, giving
the historical progress of the meaning attached to the
words, with quotations from contemporary writers, and
each Academician was to have taken a letter ; he had
begun himself to write upon the letter A, with his wonted
industry, when that hand arrested him. to which the

108 ADAM SMITH.

laborious and the idle alike must submit, closing his long
and brilliant career.

Dr. Smith's other paper in the Review is a letter to
the editors upon the propriety of extending their plan,
which had been confined to the criticism of works
published in Scotland. He enters at some length into
the general state of literature on the Continent, and
shows a familiar acquaintance with it, that could only
have been acquired by very extensive reading in the
works of foreign writers. The advice which he gave
would in all probability have been followed ; but the
Review was given up, as I have elsewhere stated *, in
consequence of the ferment excited by the fanatical part
of the Kirk.

In 1759 Dr. Smith published his 'Theory of Moral
Sentiments/ being the greater part of the second division
of his course of lectures, and the explanation of the prin-
ciples upon which his ethical system rested. To the
'Theory' was subjoined a 'Dissertation on the Origin of
Language,' a subject to which he had paid great atten-
tion. There is some doubt whether this was not added
to the second edition of the work. Mr. Stewart is
inclined to think that it was not in the first, but a
different opinion has been confidently expressed by others.
The success of this publication was great, and it was
immediate. The book became at once generally popular;
and Mr. Hume, who was in London at the time of its
first appearance, wrote him a most lively and humorous
letter, in which he gives the history of his friend's com-
plete success. In this letter there is mentioned a circum-

* ' Life of Robertson,' Vol. I.

ADAM SMITH. 109

stance, too, which we shall presently see was destined to
have a great influence on his future prospects. The
celebrated Charles Townsend said, on reading the book,
that he should make it worth the author's while to under-
take the charge of the young Duke of Buccleugh's educa-
tion, whose mother, the dowager Duchess, he had married.

The success of this excellent work, however, was con-
fined, at least for a long time, to the author's own
country. It was soon translated into French, and the
publisher sought to give it more attraction by adding an
absurd title to the original one — he called it ' Metaphy-
sique de 1'Ame." Grimm commends this as extremely
clever; but adds that it had failed to obtain for the book
any attention, and that it had entirely failed at Paris,
which, however, he observes, proved nothing against its
merits.*

After the ' Theory of Moral Sentiments' was published,
Dr. Smith naturally made considerable changes in his
course of lectures during the four years that he remained
in Glasgow College. He greatly curtailed the second
branch, having incorporated so large a portion of it in his
book; and he extended the third and fourth heads —
those parts which related to jurisprudence and political
economy — giving more copious illustrations of the prin-
ciples on which these important sciences are grounded.

* "On a traduit depuis quelque terns la ' Theorie des Sentimens
Moraux,' de M. Adam Smith, Professeur a Glasgow, en deux
volumes in 8vo. Le traducteur ou le libraire, pour lui donner un
titre plus piquant, 1'a nomine spirituellement ' Metaphysique de
1'Ame;' cet ouvrage a beaucoup de reputation en Angleterre, et n'a
eu aucun succes a Paris. Cela ne decide rien centre son nierite."
(Corr., IV., 291.)

110 ADAM SMITH.

In particular, his discussions of commercial policy were
more elaborately conducted ; and he profited by his
intimacy \vith merchants and manufacturers of eminence
in the great trading city in which he resided to obtain
practical information which might illustrate, if not guide,
his speculative views — possibly also correcting those views
by bringing them to the test of experience by free dis-
cussion.

The progress of his opinions in making converts to the
modern doctrines concerning trade is represented as
having been considerable, even among those whose preju-
dices in favour of the older maxims were of long standing ;
but of course his philosophy was more readily adopted,
and more extensively diffused by the pupils, who came to
the consideration of the subject with no bias upon their
minds from former habits of thinking or long-formed pro-
fessional opinions.

In 1763 the project, already mentioned, of Charles
Townsend, was carried into execution, and Dr. Smith
was induced to resign his professorship, with the view of
attending the Duke of Buccleugh on his travels. The
settlement of an adequate annuity upon him made this
arrangement one sufficiently consistent with ordinary
prudence. But it may reasonably be doubted, if, after
enjoying the advantages of a residence during a year or
two abroad, his happiness would not have been better
consulted by returning to the duties and habits of his
academical life. Nothing, certainly, can be more clear,
than that the official appointment to which this change in
his plans ultimately led, was one deeply to be lamented,
and indeed to be disapproved in every respect, however
well meant. It is somewhat humbling to our national

ADAM SMITH. Ill

pride to reflect that our Government could find no
better employment, and no fitter reward for the most
eminent philosopher of the age, than making him a
revenue officer. For the last twelve years of his precious
life he was condemned to go through the routine business
of a Commissioner of the Customs ; — as, some time after,
one of the greatest poets who ever appeared in this
island was made an exciseman, at seventy pounds a-year,
for a bare subsistence, and daily threatened with removal,
to die of hunger, if he did not square his conversation by
the opinions on French politics which his superiors enter-
tained."5"

It must, however, be added, that nothing could better
suit Dr. Smith, than the opportunity which his connexion
with the Duke gave him of visiting France and Switzer-
land. They repaired in the spring of 1764 to Paris,
where they only remained a few days, and proceeding to
Toulouse, passed in that provincial capital a year and
a-half. Except that the French spoken on the Garonne
is by no means so pure as that of the Loire and other
districts in the centre of the country, the place was well
chosen for a residence connected with education. There
was an university of good repute with an excellent
library; it was also the seat of one of the most impor-
tant parliaments, and of an engineer and artillery head-
quarters (a requisite of good society in my late friend

* It is a gratifying proof of the progress which has since those
times been made, that no Minister could in our day propose such
preferment to such men. An instance may probably be cited of an
eminent poet being early in this century so employed; but there
was a wide difference in the emoluments, and the place was nearly
a sinecure.

112 ADAM SMITH.

Mr. Wickham's opinion) ; the society was polished and
not dissipated, commerce and manufactures having some-
what unaccountably never established themselves in a
city which seems well-suited to both from its central
position and the neighbourhood of the canal, as well as
from the fertility of the surrounding country. It is not
doubtful that Dr. Smith obtained, by his residence in
this ancient and flourishing city, and his intercourse with
the well-informed and polished circles of its society,
much of that accurate information respecting French
affairs which plainly appears in his writings, and which,
as he habitually distrusts the statements of political
authorities, was the result of his own inquiries and
observations""". From Toulouse they went to Geneva,
where they passed two months, and then remained ten
mouths in Paris. Here he enjoyed an intimate acquain-
tance with all the most eminent men of science and of
letters, particularly D'Alembert, Necker, Marmontel,
Helvetius, Morellet, Turgot, and above all, Quesnay,
whose tastes and pursuits so much resembling his own
formed the bond of a strong attachment. Though differ-
ing in opinion upon some fundamental points, he re-
garded his system as "the nearest approximation to
truth that had ever been made in economical science,

* He has preserved in his 'Theory of Moral Sentiments' an
anecdote, which, unless it is to be found in the earlier editions, I
should imagine him to have heard at Toulouse ; that when the
unhappy Galas was murdered by the law, and among other tor-
ments a monk was sent to obtain his confession, the wretched
sufferer, already broken on the wheel, exclaimed, "Can you, your-
self, father, believe me guilty?" (I., 303.) The paragraph certainly
is in one of the chapters which he says was altered in the edition of
1788.

ADAM SMITH. 113

while the singular modesty and simplicity" of the man
had a powerful attraction for so congenial a nature.
He was, as is well known, only prevented by Quesnay's
death from dedicating to him the ' Wealth of Nations/
It appears by a letter of Morellet, published in his
Memoirs, that notwithstanding Dr. Smith's residence at
Toulouse, and his intimate acquaintance with the French
language, he had never so far mastered it as to speak it
tolerably well; but he could, though difficultly, converse
in it without much inconvenience. " II parloit," says the
Abbe, "fort mal notre langue, mais nous parlames theorie
commerciale, banque, credit publique, &c." As the
date of 1762 is given for this acquaintance, it might be
deemed that this applies to his passing through Paris in
1764, rather than his residence there in 1766; but as
the Abbe mentions having seen and conversed with him
repeatedly, and adds, that Turgot, as well as Helvetius,
had made his acquaintance, the time referred to must
have been at his return from the south; for the twelve
days spent at Paris, on his way to Toulouse, could not
have given time to form their acquaintance.

Upon his return to England in the autumn of 1766, he
went to reside with his mother at his native town of
Kirkaldy, and remained there for ten years. All the
attempts of his friends in Edinburgh to draw him thither
were vain; and from a kind and lively letter of Mr.
Hume upon the subject, complaining that though within
sight of him on the opposite side of the Frith of Forth,
he could not have speech of him, it appears that no one
was aware of the occupations in which those years were
passed. At length, early in 1776, the mystery was
explained by the appearance of his great work — the

I

114 ADAM SMITH.

' Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of
Nations;' at first published in two quarto volumes, and
afterwards in three octavo. Mr. Hume lived to see it,
having died in the autumn of the same year ; and he
immediately wrote to express his high sense of its merits,
specifying accurately the chief points of its excellence—
"depth, solidity, acuteness, with much illustration of
curious facts ;" to which, if we add the extraordinary merit
of showing in what way economical reasoning should
be conducted — with a constant recourse to the general
principles of human nature, and a distrust of all empi-
rical details, though with a due attention to ascertained
facts of a general and not a topical or accidental class — we
sum up the great services rendered to science, as well as
to government and legislation generally, by this celebrated
work. In regard to the originality of its views, it ranks,
perhaps, less highly, as most of its doctrines had been
broached by the Italian writers and the French econo-
mists, and still more by Mr. Hume in his 'Political
Discourses/ We must, however, bear in mind, that
Dr. Smith had begun to lecture upon those subjects as
early as the year after he settled in Glasgow, that is,
in 1752, when Mr. Hume's Essays were published; and
in 1755 he drew up a paper containing an abstract of
his doctrines, which he asserts that he taught the winter
before he left Edinburgh, and consequently in 1750. As
far as regards himself, therefore, we may affirm that
those opinions were not borrowed from any others, but
were the results of his own speculations.*

* He says that they are contained in lectures which he had
composed and had caused to be written in the hand of an amanu-
ensis, who left his service in 1749 or the beginning of 1750.

ADAM SMITH. 115

The two years immediately following the publication of
his work he passed chiefly in London, and lived in the
society of the persons most distinguished for political and
for literary eminence. His appointment as Commissioner
of the Customs was wholly without his solicitation, or,
indeed, knowledge, until the offer was made. In 1762
the University of Glasgow had conferred upon him the
degree of Doctor of Laws, and in 1788 he was chosen
their Rector — an office in the gift of the students, voting
by four divisions or nations. His letter of thanks on this
occurrence shows how extremely gratified he was with
the honour.

Upon his appointment to the Customs he settled in
Edinburgh, where his venerable parent lived with him till
her death in 1784, as well as his cousin, Miss Douglas,
who died in 1788. These two losses sorely afflicted his
gentle and affectionate heart, for he was tenderly attached
to both his relations, and had never known domestic
comforts but in their society. He lived hospitably, and
saw much of his friends — the great lights of Scottish
society in those days : Dr. Black, Dr. Hutton, Dr. Robert-
son, Dr. Cullen, were his chosen companions; and he
took much pleasure in superintending the education of
his kinsman, Mr. Douglas, afterwards Lord Strathenry, to
whom he left his choice library (the only thing, as he
used to say, in which he was a fop), as well as that
portion of his papers which he did not destroy.

But now, although his income exceeded his wants, his
far more precious time was no longer his own. The trivial
but incessant duties of his office exhausted his spirits,
and distracted, though they could not fix his attention.
For several years he ceased to cultivate letters or

i 2

116 ADAM SMITH.

science, or only gave his attention to them, as matters of
amusement, and as food for conversation. He had,
indeed, in the two portions of his lectures of which
nothing had been published, the rich materials of works
in the very highest degree interesting and important.
But when we reflect that ten years had been required,
and those years passed in seclusion, to systematize, to
arrange, and to compose the work into which were
moulded the economical part of his lectures, we may well
believe that he now, as his age declined and his infirmities
increased, shrunk from performing the same office to the
other portions of the lectures, when the avocations of his
public duty gave a perpetual interruption to his studies.
It is remarkable, too, how little, with all his great prac-
tice, he ever acquired the art of composition. He told
Mr. Stewart a short time before his death, that " after all
his practice, he composed as slowly and with as great diffi-
culty as at first/' Hence it naturally surprises us to learn
that he never wrote, but walking about the room, dictated
to an amanuensis, from which we must conclude that
before he began, he had well considered the language as
well as the matter, and spoke to the writer, as it were,
a prepared speech/"

He began to feel the approach of age at a somewhat
early period, notwithstanding the temperate, calm, and

* Mr. Stewart adds, that Dr. Smith mentioned Mr. Hume's faci-
lity of writing as a contrast to his own, stating "that the last vols.
of his History were printed from the original copy, with a few mar-
ginal corrections." I have shown in his life, that this could not have
been the case; for I have proved, both from Mr. Hume's own MSS.,
and from his account of his difficulty in writing, that Dr. Smith's
impression was erroneous.

ADAM SMITH. 117

equable life which he had ever had; nor had he reached
three score when he was sensible, not that his faculties,
but that his bodily strength and spirits were somewhat
impaired. The domestic losses to which I have adverted
left him solitary and helpless ; and though he bore them
with an equal mind, as became a great philosopher, his
health gradually declined. The immediate cause of his
death, which happened in July, 1790, was a chronic ob-
struction in the bowels, under which he lingered for a
considerable time and suffered great pain ; but he bore it
with perfect resignation. When he left Edinburgh in
1773, on a journey to London, the object of which has
not been explained, but which gave him the expectation
of a long absence from Scotland, he wrote a letter to Mr.
Hume, intrusting him with the charge of his papers, and
intimating that, except the 'Speculative History of
Astronomy/ he desired all his other writings to be
destroyed, stating that they were contained in eighteen
folio paper books, which were not even to be exa-
mined before destroying them. Dr. Hutton's account
of what afterwards passed, coincided with this intention
and must be subjoined, as it is extremely interesting.
" When he became weak and saw the approaching end of
his life, he spoke to his friends again upon the subject of
his papers. They entreated him to make his mind easy,
as he might depend upon their fulfilling his desire. He
was then satisfied, but some days afterwards finding his
anxiety not entirely removed, he begged one of them to
destroy the volumes immediately. This accordingly was
done, and his mind was so much relieved that he was
able to receive his friends in the evening with his usual
complacency. They had been in use to sup with him

118 ADAM SMITH.

every Sunday, and that evening there was a pretty numer-
ous society of them. Dr. Smith not being able to sit up
with them as usual, retired to bed before supper, and as
he went away, took leave of his friends by saying, ' I
believe we must adjourn this meeting to some other
place !' ' He died a very few clays afterwards. Mr. Rid-
del, an intimate friend of Dr. Smith's, who was present at
one of the conversations on the subject of the manuscripts,
mentioned to Mr. Stewart, in addition to Dr. Button's
note, that he " regretted he had done so little, adding, ' I
meant to have done more, and there are materials in my
papers of which I could have made a great deal, but that
is now out of the question.' '

In the latter period of his life, and while suffering
under the illness which proved fatal, he made some
important additions to his ' Theory of Moral Sentiments.'
Of these, some of the most eloquent passages of his whole
writings, Mr. Stewart has beautifully said, " that the moral
and serious strain which prevails through those additions,
when connected with the circumstances of his declining
health, adds a peculiar charm to his pathetic eloquence,
and communicates a new interest, if possible, to those
sublime truths, which in the academical retreat of his
youth awakened the first ardours of his genius, and on
which the last efforts of his mind reposed."

In 1795, a volume of posthumous works was published,
consisting of four Essays. The first is a portion of the
extensive work which he had begun, on the principles
which lead to and direct philosophical inquiries ; these
he illustrates from the history of astronomy, of ancient
physics, and ancient logic and metaphysics. His second
is an Essay upon the imitative arts ; the third on certain

ADAM SMITH. 119

affinities of English and Italian verse, and the fourth on
the external senses. The only part of this work that ap-
pears to be nearly finished, is the 'History of Astronomy ;'
but the whole of the Essays are replete with profound
and ingenious views, and show an extensive and accurate
acquaintance with all the branches of inductive science.

The true picture of a great author's intellectual cha-
racter is presented by his writings; and of the depth,
the comprehensiveness, the general accuracy of his views,
on the various subjects to which his mind was bent,
there can be but one opinion. His understanding
was enlarged, and it was versatile; his sagacity, when he
applied himself deliberately to inquiry or to discussion,
was unerring; his information was extensive and correct;
his fancy was rich and various; his taste, formed upon
the purest models of antiquity, was simple and chaste.

His integrity was unimpeachable, and the warmth of
his affections knew no chill, even when the langour of
age, and the weight of ill-health, was upon him; his
nature was kindly in the greatest degree, and his bene-
volence was extensive, leading him. to indulge in acts of
private charity, pushed beyond his means, and concealed
with the most scrupulous delicacy towards its objects.
Stern votaries of religion have complained of his defi-
ciencies in piety, chiefly because of his letter upon the
death of his old and intimate friend Mr. Hume ; but no
one can read the frequent and warm allusions with which
his works abound to the moral government of the world,
to reliance upon the all-wise Disposer, to the hopes of a
future state, and not be convinced that his mind was
deeply sensible to devout impressions. Nay, even as to
his estimate of Mr. Hume's character, we are clearly

120 ADAM SMITH.

intitled to conclude that he regarded his friend as an
exception to the rule that religion has a powerful and
salutary influence on morals, because he has most forcibly
stated his opinion, that whenever the principles of reli-
gion which are natural to it are not perverted or cor-
rupted " the world justly places a double confidence in
the rectitude of the religious man's behaviour."- -(' Mor.
Sent.,' L, 427.) Surely, Dr. Johnson himself could desire
no stronger testimony to religion, no more severe con-
demnation of infidelity.""'

In his simple manners, and the easy flow of his con-
versation, wholly without effort, often with little re-
flection, the carelessness of his nature often appeared;
and the mistakes which he would occasionally fall into,
by giving immediate vent to what occurred to him on a
first impression, or a view of the subject from a single
point, sometimes would furnish subject of merriment
to his frieuds.f It was, probably, from the same sim-
plicity and earnestness that he was apt in conversation
to lay down principles and descant upon topics somewhat
in the way of a lecture; but no one found this tiresome,
all feeling that it was owing to his mind being in the
matter, and to his simple and unsophisticated nature.
Never was there anything about him in the least like
a desire to engross the conversation. On the contrary,

* See ' Theory of Moral Sentiments,' Part. Ill, chap, i., ii.,
and v.

t In some few instances, these traces of imperfect judgment have
found a place in his works. His giving Gray the preference to
almost all poets, "as equalling Milton in sublimity and Pope in
eloquence and harmony," is the more singular, because the best by
far of Gray's poems, the Elegy, makes no pretension to sublimity
at all. — ('Theory of Moral Sentiments/ I. 311.)

ADAM SMITH. 121

he could sit a silent spectator of other men's gaiety, which
he was perceived to enjoy even when he took no part in
what excited it.

Somewhat akin to these peculiarities was his habitual
absence, not only muttering in company as unconscious of
their presence, but even unaware of the obstructions he
might encounter while walking in the streets. One that
knew him, which the sufferer did not, was a good deal
amused to hear a poor old woman, whose stall he had over-
turned while he moved on with his hands behind his back
and his head in the air, exclaim in some anger, "doating
brute!"* Another was amused at the remark of an old
gardener, near Kirkaldy, who only knew him by having
answered his questions, somewhat incoherently put in his
walks, when the ' Wealth of Nations ' appeared, and he
found who was its author : " Weel a weel !" quoth he,
" they tell me that lad Adam Smith has put out a great
book. I am sure it would be long before I would think of
doing a thing of the kind/' It is related by old people at
Edinburgh, that while he moved through the Fishniarket
in his accustomed attitude, and as if wholly unconscious
of his own existence or that of others, a female of the
trade exclaimed, taking him for an idiot broken loose,
" Heigh ! Sirs, to let the like of him be about ! And yet
he's weel eneugh put on" (dressed). It was often so
too in society. Once during dinner at Dalkeith he broke
out in a long lecture on some political matters of the
day, and was bestowing a variety of severe epithets on a
statesman, when he suddenly perceived his nearest rela-

* The Scotch word is "doited" or "donnert" and expresses one
whose faculties are entirely gone, if ever they existed.

1 22 ADAM SMITH.

tive sitting opposite, and stopt ; but lie was heard to go
muttering, " Deil care, deil care, it's all true."

The ' Theory of Moral Sentiments,' although it be not
the work by which Dr. Smith is best known, and for
which he is most renowned, is yet a performance of the
highest merit. The system has not, indeed, been ap-
proved by the philosophical world, and it seems liable
to insuperable objections when considered even with an
ordinary degree of attention, objections which never
could have escaped the acuteness of its author but for
the veil so easily drawn over an inquirer's eyes when
directed to the weak points of his own supposed dis-
covery. The principle or property in our nature which
leads us to sympathise or feel with the feelings of others,
to be pleased when our feelings are in accordance with
theirs, to be displeased when they are in discord, must
be on all hands admitted to exist; and thence may
fairly be deduced the inference, that our approval of
another's conduct is affected by the consciousness of this
accord of our feelings, and our self-approval by the
expectation of his feelings according with our own. But
when we resolve our whole approval of his conduct and
of our own into this sympathy, we evidently assume two
things : first, that the accord is a sufficient ground of
approbation ; and, secondly, that this approbation is not
independent but relative, or reflected, and rests upon
either the feelings of others and upon our own specula-
tions respecting those feelings, or upon our sympathy
with those feelings, or upon both the one and the other.
Now, the first of these things involves a petitio principii,

ADAM SMITH. 123

and the second involves both a petitio principii and a
dangerous doctrine. It cannot surely be doubted that a
sense of right may exist in the mind, a disposition to pro-
nounce a thing fit and proper, innocent or praiseworthy,
unfit or unbecoming, guilty or blameworthy, without the
least regard either to the feelings or the judgments of
other men. It is quite certain, that, in point of fact, we
feel this sentiment of approbation or disapprobation
without being in the least degree sensible of making any
reference to other men's feelings, and no sympathy with
them is interposed between our own sentence of approval
or disapproval and its object. But it is enough to say,
and it seems to answer the theory at once, that even if
our sympathy were admitted to be the foundation of our
approval, our inability to sympathise the ground of our
disapproval, this in no way explains why we should
approve because of the accord and disapprove because
of the discord.

The theory, with the utmost concession that can be
made to it as to the ground-work, leaves the superstruc-
ture still defective, and defective in the same degree
in which the ' Theory of Utility ' is defective ; we are
still left to seek for a reason why approval follows the
perception of corresponding feelings in the one case, of
general utility in the other. Dr. Paley is so sensible
of this, that after resolving all questions of morals into
questions of utility, he is obliged to call in the Divine
Will as the ground of our doing or approving that which
is found to be generally useful. Other reasoners on the
same side of the question pass over the defect of their
system altogether, while some try the question by assum-
ing that we must desire or approve that which is useful ;

124 ADAM SMITH.

while a third class, much more consistently, consider
that the approving of what is generally useful, and dis-
approving of what is generally hurtful, arises from the
exercise of an inherent faculty or moral sense, an innate
principle or property in our nature, irresistible and
universal. The like defect is imputablc to Dr. Smith's
theory, and is only to be supplied either by Dr. Paley's
method of reasoning, or by the last supposition to which
I have referred. But all this concedes a great deal more
than is due to the ' Theory of Sympathy,' and assumes it
to stand on as good a foundation as that of 'Utility.'
Now one consideration, which has in part been antici-
pated, shows that such is not the case. We may sympa-
thise with another, that is, we may feel that in his
position our own inclinations would be exactly the same
with those under which he appears to be acting, and
yet we may equally feel that we should deserve blame,
and not approval. Why ? " Because," says Dr. Smith,
" we take into the account also that others, that is to
say, men in general, not under the influence of excite-
ment to disturb their feelings or their judgments, will
disapprove." But why should they 1 If they are to
place themselves, as we are desired to do, in the situation
of the propositus, of him whose conduct is the subject
of consideration, they must each of them feel, as we do
ourselves, that in his situation they would do as he is
doinsr, or, at least, would be inclined so to do. There-

cP *

fore, this appeal to others in general, this calling in the
general sense to correct the individual, can have no effect
upon the hypothesis; it can only exert any influence, or
apply any correction, upon some other hypothesis. It ap-
pears, therefore, that in every view the theory is unsound.

ADAM SMITH. 125

At the same time, nothing can be more clear than the
very high merit and the very great value of the work
in which that theory is explained, illustrated, and applied.

In the first place, it is the first modern systematic
work on ethics which exhausts the subject by going over
its whole range, both as regards the principles of our
nature, whereby we distinguish moral thoughts, words,
and actions, and as regards the grounds of our approving
or disapproving of these. The writings of his predeces-
sors, particularly, as we have seen, those of Butler, Hutch-
eson, and Hume, had done much, but they had left much
to be done in forming a comprehensive and general
system.

Secondly. The important operation of sympathy was
never before explained and traced, its effects upon our
feelings and our judgments, its sudden and even instan-
taneous action, its direct and indirect, and immediate and
reflex workings ; all the modifications which it under-
goes. There remains a great body of important truth,
even concerning sympathy, in the work, after we shall
have deducted the portion of it which cannot be sup-
ported. Sympathy is a great agent in our moral sys-
tem, though it may not be allowed either to be the only
one, or one of unlimited power ; and its agency was
never before so fully perceived, or so clearly traced.

Thirdly. In a system of ethics the truth or falsehood
of the fundamental principle is not, as in a physical or
mathematical speculation, the only point to be regarded,
and upon our determination respecting which the whole
value of the theory depends. The exhibiting an extensive
and connected view of feelings and judgments, of moral
qualities and sentiments, referring the whole to one prin-

126 ADAM SMITH.

ciple of convenient arrangement, and tracing their con-
nexion with each other, as well as with the common
source, may be of great importance, because of great use,
although the arrangement itself is defective, and the
pivot on which it hinges insufficient to bear it. This
merit belongs in a very eminent degree to Dr. Smith's
theory, which brings together a much larger collection of
moral facts, and exhibits a much greater variety of moral
arguments than any other ethical treatise in ancient or
modern times.

Fourthly. There are whole compartments of the work
which are of inestimable value, without any regard to the
theory, and independent of those portions more connected
with it, of which we have admitted the value. Thus the
copious and accurate and luminous account of the other
systems of morals, forming the seventh part, which occu-
pies a fourth of the book, would have been a valuable
work detached from the rest. To relish it we do not
require the striking contrast of perusing such works as
the dry and uninteresting and indistinct histories of
Enfield and Stanley. So the third section of the first
part, on the influence of success, or the event, upon our
feelings and judgments of actions, what the author terms
the influence of fortune, has great originality, and is at
once judicious and profound. The like may be said of
the fifth part, which treats of the influence of custom and
fashion.

Lastly. The admirable felicity, and the inexhaustible
variety of the illustrations in which the work everywhere
abounds, sheds a new and a strong light upon all the
most important principles of human nature; and affords
an explanation of many things which are wholly inde-

ADAM SMITH. 127

pendent of any theory whatever, and which deserves to
be known and understood, whatever theory may obtain
our assent.

The beauty of the illustrations, and the eloquence of
the diction, are indeed a great merit of this work. That
the author living nearly twenty years in a College, or in
a small country town, and with his habits, both of study
and mental absence or distraction, should have all the
while been so curious an observer even of minute par-
ticulars in conduct, manners, habits, is exceedingly sin-
gular, and seems to justify a conjecture of Mr. Stewart,
that he often gave a partial attention to what was pass-
ing around him, and was afterwards able to recall it by
an effort of recollection, as if he had given his whole
mind to it at the time. His style, indeed, is peculiarly
good; his diction is always appropriate and expressive,
quite natural, often picturesque, even racy and idiomatic
beyond what men are apt to acquire who gather their
language rather from books than from, habitually hearing
it spoken by the natives. Johnson, though an English-
man, has filled his ' Rambler' with very inferior English,
in comparison of such passages as these : " We seldom
resent our friends being at enmity with our friends,
though upon that account we may sometimes affect to
make an awkward quarrel with them; but we quarrel
with them in good earnest, if they live in friendship with
our enemies." (Vol. I. p. 20.) "Smaller offences are
always better neglected; nor is there any thing more
despicable than that froward and captious humour which
takes fire upon every slight occasion of quarrel." (I. 86.)
Look through the heavy and wearying pages of the
great English moralist's most admired ethical writings,

128 ADAM SMITH.

his ' Rambler/ his ' Idler,' his ' Rasselas/ where will you
find such a picture of the progress of an upstart, which,
however, is written in a much more balanced and sen-
tentious style than Dr. Smith generally adopts. " In a
little time he generally leaves all his own friends behind
him, some of the meanest of them excepted, who may
perhaps condescend to become his dependants ; nor does
he always acquire any new ones. The pride of his new
connections is as much affected at finding him their equal,
as that of his old ones had been by his becoming their
superior : and it requires the most obstinate and per-
severing modesty to atone for this mortification to either.
He generally grows weary too soon, and is provoked by
the sullen and suspicious pride of the one, and by the
saucy contempt of the other, to treat the first with
neglect and the second with petulance, till at last he
grows habitually insolent, and forfeits the esteem of all."
Then he concludes beautifully and truly : " He is happiest
who advances more gradually to greatness; whom the
public destines to every step of his preferment long be-
fore he arrives at it; in whom, upon that account, when
it comes, it can excite no extravagant joy, and with
regard to whom it cannot reasonably create either any
jealousy in those he overtakes, or any envy in those he
leaves behind." (Vol. I. p. 97.)

Here, too, is a noble passage of indignant eloquence,
which I hope will not be deemed to carry with it any
offence to the remote descendants of those assailed ; but
if it should, it can only be from a consciousness of the
stain enduring, and that stain can be easily wiped out, so
that the memory of the past shall redound only to the
glory of the present generation. lie is speaking of the

ADAM SMITH. 129

North American Indians. " The same contempt of
death and torture prevails among all the savage nations.
There is not a negro from the coast of Africa who does
not in this respect possess a magnanimity which the soul
of his sordid master is too often scarce capable of con-
ceiving. Fortune never exerted more cruelly her empire
on mankind, than when she subjected this nation of
heroes to the refuse of the jails of Europe, to wretches
who possess the virtues neither of the countries which
they come from nor of those which they go to, and whose
levity, brutality, and baseness, so justly expose them to
the contempt of the vanquished/' (Vol. II. p. 37.)

How well has he painted the man of system, and how
many features of this portrait have we recognized in Mr.
Bentham, and others of our day ! — " He is apt to be very
wise in his own conceit, and is often so enamoured with
the supposed beauty of his own ideal plan of government,
that he cannot suffer the smallest deviation from any
part of it. He goes on to establish it completely, in all
its parts, without any regard either to the great interests
or to the strong prejudices which may oppose it. lie
seems to imagine that he can arrange the different
members of a great society with as much ease as the
hand arranges the different pieces upon a chess-board.
He does not consider that the pieces upon the chess-
board have no other principle of motion beside that
which the hand impresses upon them ; but that in the
great chess-board of human society, every single piece
has a principle of action of its own, altogether different
from that which the legislature might choose to impress
upon it. If these two principles coincide and act in the
same direction, the game of human society will go on

K

130 ADAM SMITH.

easily and harmoniously, and is very likely to be happy
and successful. If they are opposite or different, the
game will go on miserably, and the society must be at
all times in the highest degree of disorder."- — " For a man
to insist upon establishing, and upon establishing all at
once, and in spite of all opposition, anything which his
own idea of policy and law may seem to require, must
often be the highest degree of arrogance. It is to erect
his own judgment into the supreme standard of right and
wrong. It is to fancy himself the only wise and worthy
man in the commonwealth, that his fellow creatures
should accommodate themselves to him, and not he to
them." (Vol. II. p. 110.)

There are scattered through this and Dr. Smith's other
work abundant indications of the scorn in which he held
faction and the spirit it engenders ; but I am far from
being averse to cite passages which may be supposed to
reflect on my own policy and conduct, while a minister
or a party chief, or to confine my quotations to those
opinions with which I might be supposed more to agree.
The following passage must be fairly admitted to contain
much truth, though not stated in terms sufficiently
measured : -- - " The leaders of the discontented party
seldom fail to hold out some plausible plan of reforma-
tion, which they predict will not only remove the incon-
veniences, and relieve the distresses immediately com-
plained of, but will prevent in all time coming any
return of the like inconveniences and distresses. They
often propose on this account to remodel the constitution,
and to alter in some of its most essential parts that system
of government under which the subjects of a great empire
have enjoyed perhaps peace, security, and even glory,

ADAM SMITH. LSI

during the course of several centuries together. The

O O

great body of the party are commonly intoxicated with
the imaginary beauty of this ideal system, of which they
have no experience but which has been presented to
them in all the most dazzling colours in which the elo-
quence of their leaders could display it. The leaders them-
selves, though they may originally have meant nothing
but their own aggrandisement, become many of them in
time the dupes of their own sophistry, and are as eager
for this great reformation as the weakest and foolishest
of their followers. Even though the leaders should have
preserved their own heads, as indeed they commonly do,
free from this fanaticism, yet they dare not always
disappoint the expectations of their followers ; but are
often obliged, though contrary to their principles and
their conscience, to act as if they were under the common
delusion." No one can doubt the truth of the conclusion
to which his account of reforming schemes leads him ; it
is proved by constant experience, which also shows,
though he leaves this out of his view, that they who
refuse all reform often are the cause of excessive and
perilous innovation : — " The violence of the party refusing
all palliations, all temperaments, all reasonable accommo-
dations, by requiring too much, frequently obtains nothing ;
and those inconveniences and distresses which with a
little moderation might in a great measure have been
removed and relieved, are left altogether without the
hope of remedy." (Vol. II. p. 107.)

Such is the ' Theory of Moral Sentiments.' The great
reputation, however, of Dr. Smith, and especially his
European reputation, is founded upon the ' Wealth of
Nations/ We have seen how the principles of a more

K 2

132 ADAM SMITH.

sound, liberal, and rational policy in all that regards
commerce and finance, had been gradually taking the
place of the old and narrow views upon which all countries
regulated their economical systems, and we have found
the improvement begun as early as the seventeenth
century. Towards the end of that, and in the earlier
part of the following, the alarms of the different states
which form the great European Commonwealth were so
much excited by the ambition of Louis XIV., that the
only subject which either interested statesmen or specu-
lative inquirers related to questions of military and foreign
policy. But the regency of a most able prince and wise
ruler, profligate though his private life might be, suc-
ceeded that splendid and mischievous reign, and the
greatest, indeed the only, error of the Duke of Orleans,
his confidence in a clever and unprincipled projector,
however hurtful to his country for the moment, yet pro-
duced no permanent mischief, while it rather tended to
encourage speculations connected with money and trade
and taxation. Accordingly, both in France and Italy,
those subjects occupied the attention of learned men
during the first half of the eighteenth century, and we
have seen how great a progress was made between 1720
and 1770 in establishing the sound principles of which a
considerable portion had been anticipated nearly a hun-
dred years before. In England, Mr. Hume had contributed
more largely to the science than all the other inquirers who
handled these important subjects. In France the Econo-
mists had reduced them to a system, though they mingled
them with important errors, and enveloped them in a style
exceedingly repulsive, and not well calculated to instruct
even the few readers whom it suffered the importance of

ADAM SMITH. 133

the subject matter to attract. But it remained to give a
more ample exposition of the whole subject ; to explain
and to illustrate all the fundamental principles, many of
which had been left either assumed or ill defined, and
certainly not clearly laid down nor exhibited in their
connexion with the other parts of the inquiry; to purge
the theory of the new errors which had replaced those
exploded ; to expound the doctrines in a more catholic
and less sectarian spirit than the followers of Quesnay
displayed, and in a less detached and occasional manner
than necessarily prevailed in the Essays of Hume, though
from, his admirably generalizing mind no series of sepa-
rate discourses ever moulded themselves more readily
into a system. This service of inestimable value Dr.
Smith's great work rendered to science ; and it likewise
contained many speculations, and many deductions of
fact upon the details of economical inquiry, never before
exhibited by any of his predecessors. It had also the
merit of a most clear and simple style, with a copiousness
of illustration, whether from facts or from imagination,
attained by no other writer but Mr. Hume, unsur-
passed even by him, and which might well be expected
from the author of the ' Theory of Moral Sentiments.'

ANALYTICAL VIEW OF THE WEALTH OF NATIONS.

I. Labour is the source of all human enjoyment; it
may be even reckoned the source of all possession,
because not even the property in severalty of the soil can
be obtained, without some exertion to acquire and secure
the possession; while labour is also required to obtain
possession of its minerals, or of the produce which grows
uncultivated, or the animals which are reared wild. All

134 ADAM SMITH.

wealth, therefore, all objects of necessary use, of conve-
nience, of enjoyment, are either created or fashioned, or
in some way obtained, by human labour. The first
inquiry then, which presents itself, relates to the powers
of labour; the next to the distribution of its produce.
These two subjects are treated in the first book of the
' Wealth of Nations/ in eleven chapters, to which is added
a kind of appendix, called by the author a ' Digression,
upon Money Prices,' or as he terms it, " the variations in
the value of silver, and the variations in the real prices of
commodities." The unskilful and even illogical aspect of
this division is manifest ; for under the head of labour, are
comprehended the subjects of profit and rent as well as
wages. But subject to this objection against the arrange-
ment, and to the still more material objection which may
be urged against one portion of the doctrine, the first
book is of very great value, and unfolds at length the
fundamental principles of economical science.

i. The first sub-division relating to the powers of
labour, embraces the subject of its division and its price ;
the former is treated of in the three first chapters; the
latter in \k& fifth and eighth, but also occasionally in the
sixth, seventh and tenth.

1 . The division of labour, both increases its productive
powers, and increases the excellence of its produce. Men
will work more when their attention is confined to a
single operation, than when it is distracted by several,
because time is saved by not passing from one thing to
another, and because the power or skill of the workman
is increased when he has but one thing to occupy him.
But independent of his increased skill making him do
more work, it makes him perform better the work which

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 135

he does, and hence both the quantity is augmented, and
the quality is improved of what his labour produces. The
origin of this division is the principle which makes men
exchange or barter their different possessions, and among
these their different powers. Either one differs from
another in his capacity, or each by confining his attention
to a single pursuit, acquires a peculiar capacity for that
pursuit. In either case, they who are differently quali-
fied will employ themselves differently, and one will ex-
change the produce of his labour with the other for the
produce of his ; or, which is the same thing, each will
work for the other, and both will thus be better served.
The extent of the market will always fix a limit to the
division of labour, which can have no great range in con-
fined situations; but where it is much divided, a vast
multitude of workmen will concur in producing a single
article of exchange. Dr. Smith mentions the case of
eighteen persons being employed in making a pin, and
being thus enabled to make 86,000 pins in a day,
or 4,800 each person; whereas had they worked alone,
perhaps they might not have been able to make one a-
piece. He adds, that the meanest individual of a civi-
lized country uses, or commands, in some small portion at
least, the labour of many thousands, and is thus better
accommodated than a savage chief, who wholly possesses
10,000 slaves, and has their lives and liberties at his
disposal. Among the beneficial effects, however, of the
division of labour, one is to save labour by different con-
trivances, and especially by the invention of machinery.
This in many instances, though by no means in all, im-
proves the quality of the article ; in all cases, it increases
its quantity. It therefore greatly augments the power of
labour.

136 ADAM SMITH.

2. Labour is the measure of the exchangeable value of
all commodities, because the possession of all is governed
by labour; and in the case of exchanging one against
another, the produce of the labour by which both
were obtained is mutually given and received. But
it is easier to compare two commodities with each other
than either of them with labour as their common measure ;
not to mention that it is not easy to compare the differ-
ent kinds of labour, as hard and easy working, skilful
and unskilful, with one another. Hence, prices are gene-
rally estimated by the proportion which the commodities
bear to one another. Labour is thus estimated as well
as other commodities, in commodities, and its natural
wages are the whole of its produce. But as each labourer
seeks for employment, and as each employer is desirous
of giving as little for labour as he can, therefore the com-
petition of workmen for work enables the employer to
obtain it at much less than the whole produce. When
there is a superabundance of workmen and more hands
than are wanted, the competition of workmen lowers their
wages. When there is a scarcity of workmen and more
work than hands to do it, the competition of employers
raises wages. But, in all cases, except where a man
labours for himself, less than the produce of the labour is
paid to reward it, and the difference belongs to the
employers.

It is most material to observe, fi rst, that there is a ten-
dency in the competition of workmen to lower their
wages ; secondly, that there is a point below which wages
cannot descend. Both these positions are founded on this :
that the labourers are, generally speaking, persons wholly
dependent on their labour. Therefore, in \\\Q first place,

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 137

they cannot keep their labour out of the market when
the demand for it is slack, as a man of property will keep
his goods back when their price is low ; and, in the
second place, the labourer would cease to work if he could
not earn enough to support himself in the manner in
which persons of the lower order usually live, with a sur-
plus for supporting his family, without which his race
would be extinct. Hence there is a necessary connexion
between the wages of labour and the prices of the neces-
saries of life; and though the demand for work, com-
pared with its supply, must regulate wages within cer-
tain limits, that is, between the lowest point to which they
can fall and the highest to which they can rise, the lat-
ter point depends upon the demand, the former upon the
cost of maintaining the labourer and his family. This
will not vary with each variation of the prices of neces-
saries ; indeed, a scarcity, by throwing hands out of em-
ployment, may even lower wages instead of raising them.
But upon the average price of necessaries the amount of
wages certainly does and must depend ; for, if the average
price is high, some proportion must be kept by wages,
else the workman would either perish or emigrate, and so
labour would leave the market, until its recompense
became equal to the cost of living ; and again, if the
average is low, the competition of workmen and the in-
crease of their numbers by the progress of population
will bring down the price, that is the wages, to the level of
prices ; so that the average rate of wages never can be
much beyond the cost of living, that is, it must fall
towards 'the average price of the necessaries of life.

We may here stop to observe how soon we are brought,
by discussing speculations on the foundations of labour and

138 ADAM SMITH.

value, or real prices, to the very practical question of the
Corn Laws. They who are against all legislative measures,
whether for revenue or protection, that can obstruct the
importation of corn, contend for the most part that their
plan will lower the price of bread, though some of the
most distinguished advocates of free trade in corn deny
that it could produce any such effect. For my own part,
I can hardly doubt, that it might in some, though no
great degree, lower the average price of grain and of
bread. But if it produced this effect, undoubtedly its
tendency would be to lower the average rate of wages.
This I say, would be its tendency; but that tendency
would be counteracted by the operation of two causes,
both the increased amount of the capital employed in
manufacturing labour would tend to restore the rate of
wages, and the extension of foreign commerce, operating
upon domestic industry in all its branches, would produce
the same effect; not to mention that the money rate of
wages might fall, and the real rate remain the same, in con-
sequence of living having become cheaper. I must, how-
ever, admit that the interest of the working classes in this
question is not so manifest, though we should not wholly
neglect it, as that of the capitalist. The main reason why
the labourer has no very material interest in it, is this :
In almost every state of society, indeed in every state, ex-
cept that of a new and unpeopled country, the tendency
above explained of the labourer to cause a glut of his only
merchandise, his labour, in the market, is sure to bring
down his profits, that is, his wages, to the lowest or nearly
the lowest amount on which he can subsist. No change
of this kind, therefore, in the national policy appears likely
to effect any permanent improvement in his lot.

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 139

Hitherto we have been treating only of labour, and of
matters immediately and directly connected with it ; but
in the remaining six chapters of the first book, Dr. Smith
considers other subjects, namely, capital and its profits,
or the revenue it yields, and also the manner in which all
exchanges are effected. As every thing is the produce of
labour, as "all is the gift of industry," there maybe some
ground for thus reducing all within the bounds of the
same book ; nevertheless, these other subjects would have
been more logically kept distinct from labour, inasmuch
as the five chapters which we have analysed, relate to
labour alone, and to labour of every kind, and labour
forms the only subject of their discussion ; whereas the
remaining six relate to other things as well as labour,
and the greater part of these discussions refer not to
labour at all.

ii. The second subdivision of the book relates to the
manner of effecting exchanges ; and this introduces, first,
the subject of money; and great part of the fifth chapter
treats of the money price of commodities, as contradis-
tinguished from their real price. It includes, secondly,
the subject of prices. The sixth and seventh chapters
treat of this.

1. The great inconvenience of traffic by barter, which
made it impossible for one person to exchange any com-
modity with another, unless each wanted exactly the
same quantity which the other had to give, — equally im-
possible to obtain what was wanted in one place, without
sending what was redundant to the other place, — and
equally impossible to obtain what was wanted at one
time from a person who did not want the thing given for
it at the same time, — set men upon making two inventions,

140 ADAM SMITH.

the one of falling upon some commodity generally desir-
able, produced in moderate quantities, and capable of
being easily and exactly divided into portions as well as
easily transported and easily preserved, which might be
exchanged for all other commodities, and thus become, as
it were, a material or tangible measure of their exchange-
able value, as well as an easy medium of carrying on all
exchanges ; the other of agreeing, that when any bargain
was made for the exchange of commodities, he who did
not immediately want to have the article delivered to
which he was entitled, might receive some document as-
certaining his claim to receive it when he wished, and he
who did not wish to part with it, but desired to have the
equivalent commodity immediately, might find the docu-
ment binding him to pay something for the delay, in
case the other party wished it: — the former of these in-
ventions is money ; the latter is credit, or paper cur-
rency. In some rude countries shells have been used for
money; in others, leather; almost universally, however,
the metals have been so employed, and chiefly those
which from their beauty and their scarcity, are the most
valuable; gold, silver, and copper, though sometimes iron
has been so used. Bills of exchange and promissory
notes have greatly facilitated the operations of commerce,
by enabling debts to be transferred, so that there should
be no necessity of employing either goods or money to
pay more than the net balance due from one given coun-
try, or from one district of the same country to another,
upon the whole mutual dealings of both countries or both
districts; and also by enabling credit to do the office of
coin, and thus to economize the use of the precious
metals. The fifth chapter enters at large into the sub-

WEALTH OP NATIONS. 141

jcct of the coinage, and the variations, both in the actual
amount of gold and silver at different times existing in
the country, and in the real value of the precious metals
themselves, from the varying quantities yielded by the
mines of the world, and somewhat also from the varia-
tions in the demand for them ; these metals being like all
other commodities, liable to fluctuation from the supply
and the demand varying, and their value being measured
by the goods or the labour they can purchase.

2. In a rude or perfectly natural state of society,
when each person enjoys the whole produce of his labour,
exchange would be regulated by the time of labour, the
hardness of the work, the perilous or disagreeable nature
of the occupation, the skill required to carry it on ; but
as society advances, when men are set to work for others
and paid by their employers, there goes a part of the
produce to the employer, and the consideration in the
exchange or sale of the produce consists of two parts —
the wages of the workman, and the profits of his
employer. When the labour has been employed upon
land by those who are not the owners, they must pay to
the owners something for the use of it; and this is called
rent, which Dr. Smith considers as entering into the price
of produce, together with wages and profits, that is, the
time of the labourers and the profits of the farmer; so
that he considers wages alone, or wages and profits of
stock alone, or wages, profits, and rent together, as enter-
ing into and composing the price of all commodities.
He also considers all prices as of two kinds — the natural,
and the actual or market price; the former being that
which replaces the wages paid for producing the article,
with the profits of the employer, and in cases of agricul-

142 ADAM SMITH.

tural produce, with the rent of the landowner also ; * the
other, the price as regulated by the proportion between
the supply and the demand in the market, where it is
exposed for sale or for barter, and which price may be
either equal to, or greater, or less than the natural price.

The portion of these chapters which relates to rent is
now admitted to be founded upon an erroneous view of
that subject. Rent can never, properly speaking, form
any part of price. It has been shown, first by Dr.
Anderson in 1776, afterwards by Sir E. West and
Mr. Malthus in 1812 and 14, ignorant of Dr. Ander-
son's discovery, that rent arises from the bringing of
inferior lands into cultivation, which makes it the far-
mer's interest to pay a consideration for the use of the
better land first cultivated ; so that, instead of the rent
affecting the price of corn, the price of corn affects the
rent; and that land is let at a rent because corn cannot
be grown any longer at the same price, and not that corn
is sold at the higher price because land yields a rent.
The price of corn again is always regulated by the appli-
cation of capital to inferior soils. It never can materially
rise above or fall materially below the expense required
for raising and bringing to market the corn produced
on the worst soils actually cultivated. This is perhaps
the most considerable step that has been made in political
economy since the ' Wealth of Nations' was published.

iii. The profits of stock are the subject of the third

It is proper to observe, that the peculiarity of rent was not
wholly passed over by Dr. Smith. He expressly says, that while
high or low wages and profits are the cause of high or low prices,
high or low prices are the causes and not the effects of high or low
rents. (Book I., chap, xi.. Introduction.)

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 143

sub-division. These vary with the wealth and property
of the community as wages do, but in a very different
manner; for the increase of capital, which tends to raise
the rate of wages, lowers by competition the rate of
profit, as indeed the rise of wages does also. The pro-
gress of the community, however, in prosperity, has a
tendency to raise both the wages of labour and the
profits of stock ; while a retrograde state of a country
never fails to lower both profits and wages. The profit
of money, or interest, follow the like rules. It depends
upon the proportions of borrowers to lenders; that
is, on the supply of money compared with the demand
for it, and the profits made by those who borrow it to
invest in trade. It depends not at all upon the mere
quantity of the precious metals. The profits of stock
form generally the subject of the ninth chapter. The
tenth relates to the rate of wages and profits in different
employments, and consists of two parts — the one treating
of the inequalities arising from the nature of the employ-
ment of labour or capital, the other treating of the in-
equalities produced by the policy of states.

1. The inequalities of the first class affecting wages of
labour are fivefold, arising severally from the disagree-
able nature of the employment, the expense or difficulty
of learning it, the inconstancy and precariousness of the
demand, the great trust reposed in the workman or the
capitalist, and the improbability of success in the work
or investment; each of these disadvantages requires a
certain increase of gain to the labourer, or to the capi-
talist, as a compensation for the disagreeableness, the
education, the period of inaction, the trust, the risk of
loss. Of these five circumstances two only affect the

144 ADAM SMITH.

profits of stock — the agreeableness or disagreeableness of
the trade, and the scarcity or risk attending it.

2. Were industry and commerce left free, these in-
equalities alone could affect wages and profits ; but the
policy of states has added to these causes of inequality
several others, which disturb the natural rate of both
wages and profits much more than the circumstances
already enumerated.

(1.) The laws requiring several years' apprenticeship
to be served before trades can be set up, prevent the free
circulation of labour both from place to place, and from
one profession to another. They tend to give a mono-
poly to both employers and capitalists, and thus to lower
the wages of labour, and raise the profits of stock. The
various other restrictions imposed by corporations have a
like tendency.

(2.) Institutions for encouraging one kind of industry,
and giving it a power greater than it naturally would
possess, have the effect of drawing more to it than would
naturally resort to it, and thus, from the numbers who
must fail, lower the wages of labour. Free schools and
colleges are liable to this imputation, which, however,
Dr. Smith admits to be much corrected by the important
benefits conferred if education is thus made materially
better or cheaper.

(3.) The exclusive privileges of corporations produce
the same effect in obstructing the free circulation of both
labour and capital from place to place, and in the same
trade, which the laws of apprenticeship do in preventing
the circulation of labour from place to place, and from
trade to trade. The poor laws of England are shown by
Dr. Smith to have the most mischievous effects on the

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 145

circulation of labour, and indeed of capital also. But
these have now happily ceased thus to operate, as have
in all our municipal towns, except London, the exclusive
privileges of corporations.

iv. The rent of land forms the subject of the eleventh
and last chapter of i\\e first book. It is not the profit of
the stock vested in land, or even of that vested in its
improvement, but the portion of the produce paid to the
owner for the natural powers or productiveness of the
soil. This subdivision consists of three parts — produce
always affording rent, produce sometimes affording rent,
sometimes not, and variations in the relative value of
these two kinds of produce, whether compared with each
other, or with other commodities.

1. The articles necessary to the food of man always
enable the land on which they are raised to yield a rent,
beside both supporting the labourers by wages, and re-
placing the cultivator's stock with a profit. The first
part of the chapter enters minutely into the prices of
these articles relatively, and in comparison of money or
other commodities.

2. Certain articles of clothing, as wool and the skins
of wild animals, articles used in building, as timber,
stone, fuel as coal, some metals, all yield rent in certain
situations and certain circumstances, not in others.

3. The value of articles only occasionally yielding
rent will vary with that of the produce that always yields
it. Some of the precious metals are dependent not on
one district, but on the market of the world, from the
metals being everywhere the instrument or medium of
exchange. These things are to be regarded as making
their price vary, and with it the rent of the mines.

L

146 ADAM SMITH.

As society improves the demand of the market may
increase, while the produce of the mines remains the
same; or the produce may increase more than the
demand increases ; or the produce and demand may in-
crease together and equably. In the first case, the
money price of goods will fall, and the mine become
more valuable ; in the second, the money price will rise,
and the mine fall in value ; in the third case, the money
price of goods will remain stationary, and with it the
value of the mine. By the value of the mine, we, of
course, mean the value of the same amount of its produce
in the several cases.

This leads Dr. Smith to enter at great length into the
important question, how far the value of silver, the
general medium of exchange in the market of the world,
has varied at different periods during the four last cen-
turies.

(1.) The first period is from 1350 to 1570, and he
shows that the increased supply from the discovery of
America could not have sensibly affected the value of
silver during these two centuries. The progress of com-
merce of all kinds, internal and external, must have been
the retarding cause, which prevented the influx of the
additional quantity of metal from sensibly raising the
money price of commodities.

(2.) From 1570 to 1640 the newly discovered mines
produced their full effect in raising all the prices, and
lowering the exchangeable value of silver. That effect
was completed between the years 1630 and 1640.
Prices had then risen to between three and four times
their former rate, although the increase of commerce had
increased also the demand for the metallic currency.

WEALTH OP NATIONS. 147

(3.) From 1640 to 1776 Dr. Smith does not consider
that any material change has taken place in the relative
value of silver and other commodities ; and he examines
with much particularity, and in great detail, the facts on
which the prevailing suspicion rests, and traces the pro-
gress of the supply and demand from the produce of the
mines on the one hand, and the advance of society on the
other. He also has occasion to show how groundless
are the notions of those who regard the precious metals
as constituting wealth, — that is all wealth, — when they are
but a commodity valuable for use or for ornament, but
still more valuable for aiding the commerce of the world
as an indispensable medium of exchange.

II. The subject of the second book is stock — its nature,
accumulation and employment; and it consists of five
several subdivisions — the distribution of stock, the nature
and use of money, the profitable employment of stock by
its owners, its profitable employment by others on loan,
and the various employments of stock. Each subdivision
is considered in one of the five chapters into which the
book is distributed.

i. The stock which any one possesses is of two kinds
— that which he retains for his support, or which he has
exchanged for articles of present use, and this remains in
his possession, or which he takes from his revenue arising
from the other portions of his stock : this is the second
kind, and is used in obtaining a profit by its employment.
This second kind is commonly called capital, which is of
two kinds — fixed and circulating ; the former (fixed)
consisting of capital vested in land, or tools, or ma-
chinery, or manufactures, or shipping, which yield pro-
fit without being exchanged or parted with ; the latter

L 2

148 ADAM SMITH.

(circulating) being vested in goods which, to yield a pro-
fit, must be sold or exchanged. The stock of the com-
munity consists of the same two subdivisions — stock
used for support, and capital or stock employed at a
profit ; and the national capital in the same way is either
fixed, — being of four kinds — machines or instruments,
buildings used for profit, improvements in land, acquired
talents, useful and profitable, — or circulating, likewise of
four kinds — currency, provisions in the hands of the
raisers of them, unmanufactured materials of articles of
consumption, and manufactured articles of consumption.
But the circulating capital of the community differs
from that of an individual ; because the latter is wholly
excluded from his net revenue, his profits, while the
former may enter into the whole trade of the community
and be replaced with a profit.

ii. The only part of the circulating capital of the
community which cannot be maintained without dimi-
nishing the net revenue is the money of the community-
It resembles the fixed capital, first, in requiring like
machinery an expense for keeping it up; secondly, in
making no part of revenue; and, thirdly, in adding to
the revenue by improvements which may economise its
use. Under this head Dr. Smith discusses the prin-
ciples of banking and of currency.

iii. The capital employed by the owner is distin-
guished by Dr. Smith into two kinds, as it puts in
motion and maintains productive or unproductive labour.
In this phraseology he follows the French Economists,
but he differs materially from them in his classification of
labour, considering as productive important branches of
what they consider as unproductive. The Economists

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 149

considered the labourer employed upoii land as alone pro-
ductive, because he alone replaces the capital and labour
with their ordinary profit, and adds also a net profit; he
alone replaces the cost of his subsistence, of the seed
sown by him, of the tools used by him, and of the far-
mer's stock or capital with a profit, and also adds a net
produce, the rent of the land, thus augmenting the whole
capital of the community ; while the retail dealer, the
manufacturer, and the merchant only receive from the
produce of the soil purchased with their goods, their
subsistence and the profits of their capital, but make no
addition to the capital of the community. Still more,
they reckon unproductive the labour of professional men
and others who do not fix and realize their skill or their
work in any exchangeable commodity at all. Dr. Smith
shows with irresistible force of reasoning and great
felicity of illustration, the great errors of this theory;
and he reckons manufacturers and traders productive
labourers; but then he excludes from this class all the
labour of professional men. Dr. Smith's arguments on
this subject are partly contained in this, the third chapter
of the second book, and partly, indeed chiefly in the
ninth chapter of the third book, under the head of
Agricultural Systems of Political Economy. I believe
it may now be safely affirmed, that his reasoning is
generally admitted to be erroneous; and that as the
Economists were wrong in drawing the line between
productive and unproductive labour, so as to exclude
that of traders and manufacturers, he is equally wrong
in so drawing it as to exclude that of professional men.
It is now generally admitted that the defence, the police,

150 ADAM SMITH.

the government in general of a country, increasing the
value of its whole capital, is as productive a labour as that
of the locksmith who protects portions of the capital
from pillage, or the trader who transports it from place
to place ; and that the efforts of those who instruct, or
rationally amuse the community, give new value to its
capital, which their labour enables the owner to expend
in purchasing education or entertainment.

It seems now agreed that in the complicated system of
civilized society, indeed in any society where the division
of labour is carried to any considerable extent, it becomes
wholly impossible to say who feeds, who clothes, who in-
structs, who defends, who amuses the community, as it is
to say which of the farm servants raises the crop, or which
of the artisans makes the machine or the tool ; and that
nothing can be more unsound than the distinction drawn
between one kind of labour and another, because one
realizes nothing tangible, its produce vanishing in the act
of its production, and because employing many servants
or many soldiers is expensive, and employing many arti-
sans is profitable; for what gives increased value to all
capital is productive, and the employing more farm ser-
vants or more artisans than we require would be as
unprofitable as employing more soldiers or servants.

These and other propositions connected with this sub-
ject, though now generally admitted, were much resisted
when I first explained and defended them above forty
years ago ; and I shall refer the reader to an Appendix
containing the principal parts of the tract then published,
because it happened to be the foundation of much that
has since been written on this controversy without any

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 151

acknowledgement, and what is of more importance, with-
out a due regard to the limits of the question then
discussed.*

iv. Stock lent at interest is evidently capital to be
replaced with a profit; but it may be used by the bor-
rower either for his consumption, or as capital to be em-
ployed by him with a profit ; and it is chiefly as capital
that it is used. The profit paid to the lender is called
interest, and depends, like all the other profits of stock,
upon the competition in the market, that is, the proportion
of the lenders to the borrowers in the money market.
The greater or less abundance of the precious metals, or
of paper currency, has no effect upon the rate of interest ;
for, as Mr. Hume, who first clearly explained this sub-
ject, says, " If every man in the country were to awake
one morning with double the amount of money in his
coffers, all money prices would be doubled; but profits,
though calculated in a different coin, would really be the
same, and the profits of lenders, and of merchants, and
of manufacturers would not even be nominally increased ;
for these profits are to be reckoned by their proportion to
the capital employed in the one case, lent in the other ;
and he who before would have vested one hundred
pounds either in trade or loan, would now vest two hun-
dred pounds, and would receive ten pounds instead of the
five he before received, being the very same per centage
in each case." In this chapter Dr. Smith, with a very
singular deviation from his general principles, regards
laws regulating the rate of interest writh favour, provided

* It was in No. VIII. of the ' Edinburgh Review' that the paper
was published, July, 1804.

152 ADAM SMITH.

the legal rate be fixed a little above the market rate.
This opinion has been most unanswerably exposed and
refuted by Mr. Bentham, in his admirable ' Defence of
Usury/ published about the time of Dr. Smith's decease,
v. The capital of a country can only be employed in
one or other of these four ways — in agriculture, mines?
works, fisheries ; or in manufactures ; or in the wholesale
trade, foreign and domestic ; or in the retail trade. Dr.
Smith considers it clear, that agriculture puts in motion
most productive labourers, manufacturers next to agricul-
ture, then retail trade, and wholesale trade least of all.
He also holds that agriculture augments the capital of
the community most rapidly, manufactures next, then
retail trade, and lastly wholesale. The wholesale trade
he divides into three branches, properly speaking into
four — the home trade, the foreign direct trade of con-
sumption, the foreign indirect or round about trade
of consumption, and the carrying trade. The first he
considers the most beneficial employment of capital,
because it replaces two national capitals; the second
and third are, according to him, less beneficial, be-
cause they replace one national and one foreign capital;
while the carrying trade replaces two capitals, both
foreign. I believe the views contained in this chap-
ter are pretty generally admitted to be erroneous, that
is to say, as regards the relative importance assigned
to different branches of trade or employments of capital.
This seems, as regards the comparison of agriculture,
manufactures, and trade, to follow, from what has been
stated under the third subdivision of this subject, and from
what is more fully explained in the Appendix. In truth
Dr. Smith here, as elsewhere, while he differs with the

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 153

Economists, falls into some of their most erroneous views.
He regards agriculture as wholly different from manufac-
tures, because nature here works with man, and adds to
the amount of his possessions. But the powers of nature
are as much required to aid us in a chemical, nay, even in
a mechanical process, as in agriculture. The fermenta-
tion of grains to distil a beer or a spirit from them is as
much an operation of nature as the germination of the
seeds to grow the crop ; it is as impossible for man to
augment the quantity of matter in tilling the ground, as
in working up the produce ; all he does in either case is
to new-mould, and to fashion ; and the rude produce is
as useless before he manufactures it, as the water, the
salts, and the gaseous bodies, of which vegetables consist,
are useless before the process of vegetation. The differ-
ence in trades which replace foreign, and those which
replace home capitals, is better founded, although the
sounder view is to consider all nations which interchange
each other's commodities as one great community, and
to regard the gain of each, even by the labour which
the capital of any other puts in motion, and by the
accumulation of profits which thence arises, as the gain
more or less directly of that other; thus extending the
doctrine of the division of labour to the whole community
of nations, upon which doctrine we have seen depends the
refutation of the errors respecting productive and unpro-
ductive labour in the case of any one nation.

III. The different progress of wealth in different
nations forms the subject of the third book, which there-
fore treats in four successive chapters, first, of the na-
tional progress of opulence, by the cultivation of the
country, and then by the improvement of the towns ;

154 ADAM SMITH.

next of foreign commerce, as capital is safer in the first
than the second, and in the second than in the third em-
ployment. Secondly, the various discouragements to agri-
culture by the circumstances and the barbarous policy of
the European states after the fall of the Roman empire.
Thirdly, the rise and progress of the towns in the dark
ages. Fourthly, the improvement promoted in the country
by the progress of the towns, which gave the agriculturist
an increased market for his produce, applied their capital
to the improvement and purchase of his land, and intro-
duced a more regular police, as well as a freer state of
society generally.

IV. The fourth book, the most important of the
' Wealth of Nations,' is devoted to the consideration of
the two great systems of political economy, the Mercan-
tile and the Agricultural; the discussion of the former
occupies eight chapters, and one-fourth part of the whole
work ; that of the latter is comprised in a single chapter
of moderate extent.

Part I. This elaborate, most able, and most completely
satisfactory inquiry commences with showing the popular
mistake or confusion which lies at the bottom of the
mercantile system, runs through its whole doctrines, and
gives rise to all its practical applications, that gold and
silver, being the instruments of exchange and the ordinary
measures of value, are therefore wealth itself independent
of their value as instruments and measures, and that the
great object of statesmen should be to multiply them in
any given country, in order thereby to increase that
country's wealth. Rulers having begun upon this view,
prohibited the exportation of the precious metals ; but
this was found most vexatious to commerce, and therefore

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 155

the traders urged the governments of different countries to
suffer the exportation, by which goods might be obtained,
the re-exportation of which would restore with a profit
the specie that had been sent to buy these, and thus aug-
ment its whole mass. These merchants, however, wholly
adopting the fundamental error, and regarding specie as
alone constituting wealth, further urged that the direct
prohibition to export them could scarce ever be effectual,
on account of the small bulk of the metals and their easy
smuggling, the evil of evading the law adding to the cost of
getting the metal ; but they represented the true policy to
consist in so regulating the balance of trade, as to make
the exports exceed the imports of goods generally, the
difference being of course paid in gold and silver. These
arguments prevailed generally, both with speculative men
and with practical statesmen ; the home-trade, by far the
most important of all in every country, was undervalued ;
foreign commerce was regarded as the great source of
wealth; and positive restraints were imposed upon im-
portation, while direct encouragements were, given to
exportation. The restraints were of two kinds, — restraints
upon foreign goods, which were or could be manufactured
at home, and this was a restraint on trade in these par-
ticular commodities with all countries indiscriminately —
and restraints upon almost all goods from countries with
which the balance of trade was supposed unfavourable.
Encouragement to exportation was given in four ways, by
drawbacks of the excise imports, or certain duties im-
posed; by actual bounties on exportation or on home
manufactures, by treaties of commerce to obtain commer-
cial privileges or favours, by planting colonies and mono-
polizing their trade. These are the six grand resources

156 ADAM SMITH.

of the Mercantile System — its great expedients for ob-
taining an increase of the precious metals by making the
country export much and import little. Accustomed as
we now are to the plain and obvious consideration, that
those metals, like all other merchandise, can only be bought
with other merchandise, that when this merchandise exists,
it will obtain the metals ; that unless it exists none can by
any means be procured ; that the natural industry of the
country can alone give it existence ; that this industry, if
cramped by regulations, can never raise it so cheaply or
so profitably as when left free ; that all restraints upon
importation diminish the .value of home produce by
raising the price of the foreign, which is its price ; that
all bounties are a waste of the capital, and obstruct the
very ends they are intended to gain ; finally, that the
metals themselves are not wealth, but only one part, and
a very small and most insignificant part, of the national
capital, which might be augmented to exuberance, and
make the nation abundantly and superabundantly wealthy,
without any specie at all, if means could be devised of
restraining the excessive issue of a paper currency, or any
other instrument could be devised for conveniently effect-
ing exchanges — accustomed as we now are to these obvious
views of this subject, we seem to wonder that the elabo-
rate exposure of manifest error to which the six chapters
of Dr. Smith's work are devoted, each chapter examining
one of the resources of the mercantile system, should ever
have been required in order to overthrow the fabric. But
it is because he wrote those invaluable chapters that these
doctrines, which though often before attacked, as we have
seen, both abroad and at home, yet continued everywhere
to prevail, and especially to prevail among the rulers of

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 157

the world, at length received their demonstrative refuta-
tion, and that we now can look back with wonder on
the darkness which this great light dispelled.

i. If the importation of any commodity is restricted, there
is an inducement held out to the raising or the manufactur-
ing of that commodity at home ; capital is drawn towards
its production which would not otherwise have been so em-
ployed, and workmen are engaged in raising or manufac-
turing it who would have been otherwise occupied. But
this is hurtful on two accounts ; men's regard for their own
interest is sure to make them work and employ workmen
in the way most likely to yield them a profit; and the
natural advantages of each country or district of a country
for raising or for manufacturing certain commodities must
always determine where they can be grown or made the
cheapest. The inducing men to cultivate one branch rather
than another of industry, must therefore prevent their in-
dustry from being most profitably employed, and the con-
fining the inhabitants of the country to the commodities
produced by its own inhabitants makes them pay dearer
for them than they otherwise would do ; and thus lowers
the real value of all the other produce of the country. —
Dr. Smith states the exceptions to which the general rule
is liable. They are said by him to be two-fold, but in
reality he allows four exceptions. Defence being more
important than wealth, he greatly praises the provisions
of the ' Navigation Law/ whereby, in order to increase
the amount of British shipping, and to destroy the carry-
ing trade of Holland, none but British ships could be
employed either in the colonial, or the coasting, or the
carrying trade, or in importing from any foreign country
any article not the produce of that country, also pro-

158 ADAM SMITH.

hibiting British ships to import from one country the
produce of any other. — Again : when any tax is laid
upon one article of home-growth or manufacture, he con-
siders it right to lay an equal or countervailing duty
upon the importation of the same article. — He also allows
that when any article has been unnaturally encouraged
by former prohibitions, or by the restriction of importa-
tion, justice, as well as policy, requires that the prohibition
or restriction should only be taken off " slowly, gradually,
and after a very long warning."- -Finally, he conceives it
just and right to retaliate on Foreign States, which have
restricted the dealing in our commodities by restraining
our people from dealing in theirs, providing we can thus
hope to obtain an alteration in their policy. But the
consideration how far such experiments are likely in any
case to succeed, he says, belongs not so much to the phi-
losopher or the lawgiver as to him whom he is pleased
to mention as the " insidious and crafty animal, vulgarly
called a statesman or politician, whose councils are di-
rected by the momentary fluctuation of affairs/' (Vol. II.
p. 201.) I trust I may be excused for saying that my
councils were always directed by more liberal and per-
manent views than Dr. Smith himself on this one point
entertained; being always pointed to dissuade my
" brother animals" from any such retaliating process as
he approves, and to recommend liberal principles as more
likely in the end to remove the prejudices of Foreign
States. In one thing we all appeared quite to agree with
Dr. Smith, that " to expect the entire restoration of free-
dom of trade would be as absurd as expecting to see an
Oceana or an Utopia established." (Vol. II. p. 206.)
ii. The unreasonableness of general restraints upon

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 159

importations from particular countries on account of the
balance of trade is next shown, first, on the principles of
the Mercantile System, and secondly, upon general and
sounder principles.

1. Supposing that the freest trade were allowed with
any given country with wrhich the balance was supposed
unfavourable, it by no means follows that this would
prevent a gain with all countries in the amount of specie
imported, because the importation of more goods from
the given country than we exported to it might very
possibly enable us to export more to some other countries
with which we had no other means of trading, because
even if all the goods imported from the given country
were consumed, and not re-exported, the balance would
be better preserved if they were bought cheaper there
than they could be elsewhere. Add to this, the impossi-
bility of ascertaining with any tolerable approach to
accuracy the balance of trade with any country from the
inaccurate valuations in custom-house books, and from
the course of exchange being influenced, not merely by
the dealings between any two countries, but by the
dealings of each with all other countries, as well as by
the state of the coin in both, by the arrangements made
for defraying the expense of coinage, and by the practice
of paying sometimes in bank money and sometimes in
specie currency. The course of exchange will frequently
appear to be in favour of nations which pay in bank
money, and against those which pay in currency, though
the real exchange may be the other way in each case.
This leads to a long but very valuable digression con-
cerning Banks of Deposit, especially that of Amsterdam,
on which the author tells us, in the last edition, that he

160 ADAM SMITH.

received his information from Mr. Hope; and it was the
first time that any intelligible account of that celebrated
establishment had ever been given to the world. Mr.
Hope estimated the amount of the deposits in 1750,
at about three and a quarter millions sterling; and
Dr. Smith, like the rest of mankind, believed that the
oath annually taken by the burgomasters was sacred
" among that sober and religious people," and that not a
florin was ever issued except to the depositors, the whole
profit of the bank being the commission of a quarter per
cent, on deposits of silver, and a half per cent, on those
of gold. But about the very time that Mr. Hope spoke
of, or immediately after, the faitli which had remained
inviolate from 1609, the date of the Bank's foundation,
was broken by that body, — large loans were secretly
made to the Government and the East India Company ;
the annual oath continued to be taken by that " sober
and religious people," and to be annually broken; in
1790, the bank announced that no deposits under 2501.
would be returned, and that ten per cent, would be
returned on all others; and all this was submitted to
without impairing the bank's credit — so sturdy a plant is
confidence, grounded on long habit and long-sustained
good faith! At length, in 1796, it was discovered that
above a million sterling, lent covertly, could not now be
recovered from the State by the Company, whose claims
on the public were assigned over to its creditors. The
bank paper, before bearing a premium of 5 per cent.,
now fell to 16 discount.

2. Hitherto we have tried the merits of the Mercantile
System for increasing the precious metals, on the principles
of the system itself. But more rational views condemn the

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 161

attempt altogether. The supposition that two nations
can only gain by trade when each imports an equal
value of commodities from the other, and that if one
imports more it loses, is perfectly absurd, and betokens a
complete inattention to the nature of trade as well as of
money. If both import from each other an equal value
of goods, so far from neither gaining, both gain, and
nearly in an equal degree. The benefit of England in
receiving the wines of France, which it cannot grow, is
equal to the benefit of France in receiving from England
the coal, which it cannot raise, or the steam-engines,
which it cannot make. If there were no balance at
all on the year's account, not only all the coal and
machinery, but all the marketable goods in England
would be the more valuable in amount, because all could
be exchanged for wines, and not only all the wines, but all
the silks and other goods of France would be more
valuable, because they could be exchanged for our coals
or our engines. The interest of each nation is to obtain
a vent for the produce which it has no occasion for,
and a supply of the things which it wants. Its labour
and its capital is thus most profitably employed; its
comforts are provided for, and its wealth is increased.
If it can buy cheaper than it can raise or make, it is
more profitably employed in importing than in producing,
for the very same reason that it is more profitable for
the farmer to buy his ploughs and his clothes than to
make them. Where it can buy cheapest and sell dearest,
there ought it to resort — for the very same reason that
it is more profitable for a farmer to buy of the workman
in the next parish who makes ploughs or clothes better
and cheaper than the workman in his own parish. The

M

162 ADAM SMITH.

only balance to be considered by rational men as affect-
ing the progress of any nation's riches, is that of produc-
tion and consumption: when it consumes more goods
than it produces, it will be impoverished; when it con-
sumes less, it will be enriched by accumulation. But
this accumulation will be going on, and the national
wealth be increasing, while the exportation of specie by
the balance of trade is going on during the whole time.
For half a century together this appears to have gone on
in the North American States before the Revolution;
and yet, though the currency was almost entirely paper,
no part of the world had made greater or more rapid
strides towards wealth and prosperity.

iii. It does not appear that drawbacks are exposed to
serious objections upon any principle. If any commodity
is taxed at home, and cannot be re-exported with the
weight of the duty upon it, there seems no reason why
the whole or the greater part of the tax or duty should
not be repaid upon the exportation. Care must, of
course, be taken to prevent clandestinely retaining or
re-landing the goods for home consumption; and Dr.
Smith considers the exportation to our colonies, which
can only receive goods through us, as not a case for
drawback, because the impost must be paid by the
colonists, if they want the goods.

iv. Bounties stand in a very different predicament, if
we take care to distinguish between real and only appa-
rent bounties. A real bounty is the payment of some-
thing to encourage the exportation of goods not subject
to any such impost at home. An apparent bounty is
the payment of something to encourage the exportation
of goods which are either directly subject to a tax, or

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 163

made of, or with, articles subject to a tax — as refined
sugar made of taxed raw sugar, or gunpowder made of
saltpetre that has paid duty. These apparent bounties
are, in reality, drawbacks, and fall within the exception
of the last subdivision. But real bounties are, in every
case, objectionable; they are liable to the general objec-
tion urged against encouraging one branch of industry,
or one employment of capital, by restricting importation;
they force labour and capital into employments they
would not naturally seek, and therefore would not advan-
tageously have. But they are liable to the still greater
objection, that the giving them always assumes the
employment of capital to be prejudicial, the trade to be
a losing one, else there could be no reason whatever for
giving them; and thus we pay more for driving a losing
trade, and wisely make a present to foreigners at the
expense of our own people, for the purpose of increasing
the amount of the specie which we are to gain from those
foreigners. Dr. Smith examines particularly the two
most celebrated cases of bounty ; first, that on exported
corn, which he shows to have both raised its price to the
public at the public expense — to have prevented the
plenty of one year from providing for the want of
another — to have had no effect in encouraging tillage,
because it only gave the grower a nominal benefit — to
have raised the money price of our goods in the home
market, and lowered their price abroad — to have enabled
foreigners to eat of corn somewhat cheaper than we do
ourselves. The other bounty discussed is that in the
herring and whale fisheries ; in which he clearly shows the
Government to have been grievously imposed upon by the
great authors of all such measures — the members of the

M 2

164 ADAM SMITH.

commercial interest, whom he never spares in his sharp
and severe censures.

To this subdivision is naturally enough added a disser-
tation called, somewhat inaccurately, a 'Digression on
the Corn Trade and Corn Laws/ the bounty having
been already touched upon. There are four trades
engaged in this line of business — those of the inland
dealer, the importer, the exporter, and the carrier or
importer for re-exportation. These trades may be
carried on separately or together.

1. The interest of the consumer, as well as of the
producer, is clearly served by the first class of traders ;
nor can anything be more clear than that, where they
raise the price, which they have no power of doing
unless there is a scarcity either begun or impending,
they benefit the people by putting them on short allow-
ance, and preventing dearth from being exchanged for
famine. The gross injustice, and revolting absurdity, of
all the laws, now happily abrogated, against forestalling
and regrating, intended to keep down prices but in
reality keeping them up, by discouraging trade, by dis-
couraging agriculture, and by discouraging thrift, it is
needless to illustrate either by reason or example.

2. The trade of the importer is likewise beneficial to
the community by somewhat lowering the price of corn;
and though this may lower the nominal revenue of the
home producer, it likewise lessens his expenses, and so
leaves his net income the same, not to mention that in
common years there is never much more than the six
hundredth part of our comsumption imported from
abroad. One thing, however, requires to be observed as
to the admission of foreign corn. The producers have

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 165

for a long course of years received a money income
higher than a free trade in grain might leave it. Hence
the difficulty of reducing that income, when all their
settlements, and all their mortgages, and all their other
time bargains, as well as the rents paid by their tenants
on existing leases, have been calculated and augmented
upon the foot of higher prices. The importance of the
landed interest to any country is not easily overrated.
Dr. Smith himself, on every occasion, puts it much higher
than that of any other of the great classes of the commu-
nity. In a form of government, and frame of society, such
as ours, it is to be carefully considered. The burthens
peculiar to the owners and cultivators of the soil are
likewise to be taken into the account. Not only do they
pay a heavy land tax, but still heavier county and parish
rates, amounting in all to between six and seven millions.
Supposing that the malt tax falls wholly on the consumer,
yet it certainly tends to discourage the cultivation of
barley very materially by diminishing its natural con-
sumption. Barley too, is the grain to which soils are
more universally adapted than to wheat ; and, independent
of the direct operation of the tax in discouraging its
growth for the sake of revenue, the regulations necessary
to prevent illicit distillation press severely on the grower
by preventing him from using grain to feed his cattle.
All these considerations made the late Mr. Ricardo, a
strong and unsparing advocate of free trade, propose a
permanent fixed duty on corn imported, as a compensa-
tion to the farmer, in respect of his being pressed by
burthens from which the foreign grower is free.* Hence,

* The argument often so thoughtlessly employed by the wild
adversaries of the landed interest, that the poor rates fall on houses,

166 ADAM SMITH.

too, some reasoners extend several of Dr. Smith's argu-
ments in favour of countervailing duties, and his view of
further exceptions being allowed to the rule of free
importation by the consideration that other things may
be more important than wealth, and, possibly, that the
support of the internal institutions may be as much a
fair object of care as its external defence of a country.
On this inquiry I do not enter. The subject of steadiness
of price is not considered by Dr. Smith, though it forms,
at least in our times, the main topic of those who defend
the corn laws. The tendency of the importation, by open-
ing our market to the growers of Poland and the Ukraine,
though not in terms referred to, must have been in his eye,
because in no other way could the free importation of corn
permanently reduce its price, the opening of our markets
having the inevitable effect of raising its price abroad.
But as Poland and the Ukraine can only increase their
production of grain gradually in the gradual advance of
their population, it seems evident that the permanent fall
in prices must be the work of time, and could not easily
occasion any great or sudden shock to our internal system.
3. The free export of corn, whether home-grown or

and thus on the merchant and manufacturer as well as on the land-
owner and farmer, seems quite inconceivable. Suppose them right
in stating that half the poor rates fall on house-rent, still, as the
landowner and farmer pay this also, there would remain above three
millions exclusively laid on them. No man of common reflection
can be ignorant that the manufacturer is rated at the rent of a
building worth to him, perhaps, 20,000 1. a year, that rent being
1000 1. or 1200/., while the landowner whose income is the same
pays in the proportion ten or twelve times more. It is equally in-
accurate to reckon the excise, customs, stamps, as burthens falling
on the rest of the community and not on the laud. The landowner
pays his share of these largely, and the stamps are peculiarly burthen-
some to him.

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 167

imported, is essential both to the interests of the pro-
ducer and the consumer, because, unless it is certain that
the quantity grown, if superabundant, can be easily
taken off, the growth will be pared down to so low an
amount as must prevent cheapness, and, unless it is
certain that any surplus imported can be re-exported,
there will be the same slowness to lower prices by importa-
tion. As for the arguments against importing or export-
ing for fear foreign States should shut their ports and we
should thus lose our needful supplies, the experience even
of Dr. Smith's age showed how little ground there was
for such alarms; but in our day, who have seen one
vast system of continental despotism established upon a
monstrous military power, wielded by a single man, and
wielded in direct hostility to our commerce, yet fail to
prevent a much greater importation than usual of all
kinds of grain, anything more chimerical than such fears
cannot well be imagined.

4. The carrying trade is not perhaps of so much
importance to the home market as the three other
branches of the corn trade : yet it does contribute to its
supply; for the carrier will always be ready to keep part
of his capital under his eye and controul, and thus to sell
at home, just as Holland became a great emporium of all
articles, while she was the carrier of the world.

The general soundness of Dr. Smith's views upon this
important subject has never been questioned by persons
of good authority, unless upon the questions connected
with the bounty. Some writers, who are in general the
advocates of free trade, have considered the benefits con-
ferred by the bounty upon agriculture, and through
agriculture upon the whole industry of the community,

168 ADAM SMITH.

to be sufficiently important to counterbalance the argu-
ments against so great a deviation from all sound prin-
ciple as the payment of a portion out of the national
capital, for the purpose of drawing more of this capital
into one line of employment than would otherwise seek that
line. They have also considered that a reduction in the
price of agricultural produce is the ultimate effect of this
system. Dr. Anderson, the author of the true Theory
of Rent, (as far back as 1777,) and Mr. Malthus hold
these opinions. Others, again, who entirely agree in
Dr. Smith's opinion, dispute the reasons by which he
supports it. Thus Professor Maculloch has shown that
there is a fallacy in the assumption of the real value of
corn being unalterable as Dr. Smith supposes, (Corn
Laws, ' Encyclopaedia Brit.' VII. 347.) And Mr. Homer,
in a most able paper in the ' Edinburgh Review ' (V.
199), shows that Dr. Smith arrives at the conclusion of
the enhancement of price in the home market by a
wrong route, the enhancement being by him regarded as
the direct and inevitable effect of the bounty, and kept
separate, from its effect in extending the foreign demand,
whereas Mr. Horner shows, I think very clearly, that
the extension is the direct and main cause of the enhance-
ment, and that the bounty only operates incidentally in
this way. It is also to be observed that no reference
is made to the operation of the bounty upon the foreign
demand in the two first editions of the 'Wealth of
Nations/ It may be further mentioned that, some time
before the 'Wealth of Nations' was published, an act
had passed materially relaxing the bounty law of King
William. Of this alteration Dr. Smith remarks, that like
the laws of Solon, if not the best it was as good as the

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 169

temper of the times would admit; and it is well known
that Mr. Burke, its author, told him, when objecting to
it, that although philosophers had the privilege of con-
ceiving their diagrams in geometric accuracy, the engineer
must often impair the symmetry as well as simplicity of
his machine, to overcome the irregularities of friction and
resistance. The corn bounty was entirely abrogated in
1815; and in 1830 all bounties whatever were repealed,
v. The subject of commercial treaties is next to be
considered. They are liable and always to this objec-
tion, that as they grant advantages to the growers or
manufacturers of one nation over the growers and manu-
facturers of all others, so those advantages are at the
expense of the people living under the Government which
has granted them. They buy dearer and sell cheaper
than they would do if their trade was left free with
all nations. No loss will be incurred either by the
nation or by individuals as in the case of bounties, but a
smaller gain will be made than might otherwise have been
made. Unless some gain were made, the monopoly given
to the foreigner would extinguish the home trade. But
some commercial treaties have been made, with the view
of turning the balance in one country's favour with the
other country to which it gave a monopoly of its markets.
An instance of this is given in the Methuen Treaty, in
1703, with Portugal, examined in detail by Dr. Smith;
who shows that the obligation incurred by Great Britain
to admit Portugal wines at a third part less duty than
French, in return for Portugal only agreeing not to raise
the duties ort British woollens, though receiving them on
the same terms as those of Holland and France, is an
unfair and improvident bargain, even upon the principles
of the mercantile system, of which this treaty is vaunted

170 ADAM SMITH.

as the especial triumph and glory. The great aim of that
system, to increase the amount by importation of the
precious metals, undoubtedly gave rise to this treaty with
Portugal, whose share in the mines of gold is so large.
Dr. Smith takes occasion to show, that there needs no
care whatever of the Government in any country to
obtain these metals, whether for trade, or for revenue, or
for subsidy, or for any other head of expenditure, foreign
or domestic, as its ordinary commerce must always insure
a sufficient supply of them ; that is, as much of them as
it can afford to pay for, and this is as much as it ever
can have. — He takes occasion likewise in closing this sub-
ject to introduce a discussion on the coinage and in favour
of a moderate seignorage, a discussion out of place in
this part of his work, and which rather belonged, as he
himself admits, to the subdivision of the first book which
treated of money. Perhaps it more properly should have
formed another head of the expedients of the mercantile
system. In its present place it seems much more
entitled to the name of a digression than any one of the
three which have been so termed, with this difference,
that it has no kind of connexion with the subject to
which it is annexed, and can hardly, like those others,
have been suggested by it, excepting that it follows the
remarks on Portuguese gold.

vi. The great subject of Colonial establishments con-
cludes this discussion of the expedients of the commer-
cial system. Dr. Smith first explains the motives for
planting new colonies ; secondly ', the causes of their pros-
perity ; thirdly, the advantages which Europe has derived
from the discovery of America, and the easier communi-
cation by sea with India.

1. The ancient colonies of Greece and Rome were

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 171

suggested by different circumstances, and founded on
different principles. Their names sufficiently show this
diversity. The Greek settlement was called, avrot/aa, a
going from home ; the Latin, colonia, a plantation ; the
former kinds of colony lost all connexion with the parent
state ; the latter were its advanced posts or garrisons in a
conquered country ; both originated or at least had some
connexion with the narrowness of the home territory, and
the necessity of obtaining settlements elsewhere. With
the Greeks, no other purpose was served but to get rid of
their surplus population; with the Romans, beside this,
the securing their conquests formed a motive for coloni-
zing. The modern colonies had some concern with the
convenience of emigration, but far more with the promo-
tion of commerce and the extension of dominion. After
the Venetians and Portuguese had enriched themselves
by the East Indian commerce, the Spaniards and Portu-
guese turned themselves to exploring and settling the
islands and continent of South America, where the rich
returns of gold and silver gave them so great commercial
renown, that England, France, and Holland pursued a
like course, and planted colonies in the American islands
and continents. The jealousy with which Spain and
Portugal prevented all foreign intercourse with their
colonies made it necessary for other countries to obtain
similar possessions, if they would have any trade in the
valuable produce of those distant fertile countries; and
each nation successively founded its colonial policy upon
the same jealous aud exclusive spirit which had shut
them all out of the colonies first established. The motive
of all these colonizing projects was the thirst of gold; in
all of them the traffic in other produce was soon found

172 ADAM SMITH.

to be the most valuable; and tlie commerce in commo-
dities at first despised, gives rise now to the bulk of the
European intercourse with the new world.

2. The abundance of good land, and the knowledge
of agriculture and the arts which settlers take out with
them to a new or a conquered colony, are the causes of its
rapid increase in population and in wealth. The Ameri-
can plantations greatly surpass the Greek in this respect,
and very greatly surpass the Roman, while their distance
from the mother country gives them far greater freedom
than the latter had in managing their own concerns.
Even under the tyrannical government and bad manage-
ment of Spain, Mexico had 100,000 inhabitants a cen-
tury ago, five times as many as at the conquest. Brazil
had above half a million of Portuguese, or their descend-
ants ; while in British North America, the number of the
people doubles in seventeen or eighteen years, and now
amounts to nearly 20,000,000. The more rapid progress
of our colonies is owing to four leading circumstances : the
law preventing land from being engrossed in a few
hands, and preventing it being conveyed unless a certain
portion is cultivated; the general law of equal division
by succession, without regard to primogeniture; the
low amount of the taxes; the more favourable trading
system, which gives no exclusive companies the monopoly
of their commerce, and allows certain produce to be freely
imported into the mother country, throwing open for
all produce all her ports, and giving them all the inesti-
mable advantages of a free and popular government.

3. The advantages derived from the colonies have
been either those obtained by Europe at large, or those
obtained by the several colonizing Powers.

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 173

(1.) The comforts and enjoyments of life have been
varied and increased to all nations in the old world. The
industry of all has been stimulated by the new vent for
their produce, and countries which even do not directly
trade with the colonies, have benefited by their produce,
and by the surplus produce of the countries that conduct
the trade, which is occasioned by the colonial demand.

(2.) The colonizing countries have derived not only
the benefit wrhich all States receive from their own
dominions, but also the peculiar advantages of their
exclusive traffic with the colonies. The former have been
very trifling, as means of defence and revenue are all that
a State can derive from its own territory, and of these
nothing has been afforded, except the revenue derived
from the Spanish and Portuguese settlements. But the
commercial monopoly has certainly been very lucrative.
This advantage, however, is, by Dr. Smith, considered
to be rather relative than absolute, — an advantage over
nations having no colonies, and whose industry is to
a certain degree oppressed by their exclusion from the
colonial commerce. The monopoly has kept down the
agriculture and trade of the colonies, and thus it has
injured the mother country by curtailing the natural
supply and thereby raising the natural price of colonial
produce. But it has also injured the natural trade and
agriculture of the mother country, by drawing much
more capital towards the colonial traffic and cultivation
than would naturally have gone thither, thus gradually
lowering the profits by increasing the competition in the
colonial trade, and proportionably decreasing the com-
petition and raising the profits in other branches of
commerce. The rate of profit in the mother country

174 ADAM SMITH.

being thus kept unnaturally high, has necessarily been
hurtful to its trade with all other countries. Dr. Smith,
likewise contends, that the monopoly draws capital from
a foreign trade of consumption with foreign countries
yielding quick returns, to a similar trade with distant
countries yielding slow returns; that it draws capital
from a direct to a round-about foreign trade of consump-
tion; and that it draws some capital from all trade of
consumption to a carrying trade. In these respects he
holds the colonial monopoly to have been greatly pre-
judicial. Lastly, he considers it a disadvantage that
this great branch of commerce occasions our manu-
factures not to be adapted to a variety of small markets
but to one or two large ones, destroying the uniform and
equal balance that would naturally have taken place
among the different employments of capital, and thus
diminishing the great security derived from a moderate
amount of capital being invested in a great number of
trades, of which if one should fail, another may be
expected to succeed.

It is not to be denied, that a great portion of Dr.
Smith's objections to the colonial monopoly are well
founded. The object of that monopoly is to overcome
the natural effects of distance and severance, and to
render the remote territory, situated at the other extre-
mity of the globe, a portion of the mother country's
European dominions. But even if such be its object,
it is treating the colony unlike any other part of the
parent State's dominions, to forbid all trade between its
people and foreign States, and to confine its commercial
existence to its relations with the rest of the empire.
No one ever thought of compelling Lancashire or Devon-

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 175

shire to trade with the other parts of England alone.
But we have even gone further and prohibited certain
of our colonies from trading with some of our other
colonies, as if Lancashire and Devonshire should be
obliged to trade with Middlesex alone. However, it
must be allowed, that Dr. Smith is wholly in error when
he regards the colonial trade and agriculture as foreign,
and the capital invested in them as invested in remote
foreign trade, round-about foreign trade, and carry-
ing trade. The colonies are part of the empire; their
people are its citizens and subjects; the trade with the
colonies is as much a home trade, as much replaces
British capital, and puts in motion two classes of British
labourers, as the trade between two provinces of the
mother country. Indeed it resembles most nearly the
commerce between the country and the towns in any
given state, the traffic of the producers with the con-
sumers, of the farmers with the manufacturers, of all
commerce the most gainful. It is also certain, that he
has overlooked another and a most material consider-
ation. The capital invested in foreign agriculture, where
the capitalist and his family reside on their property or
their farms, remains abroad, both stock and profits.
The capital invested in colonial agriculture returns its
profits almost immediately to support families residing
in the mother country. These profits, moreover, can be
subjected to the taxation of the State with a view to
support its revenue.

The benefits of the colonial trade, and even its mono-
poly, in contributing to the naval resources of the State,
have been freely admitted by Dr. Smith, as has already
been seen. But one important consideration he has wholly

176 ADAM SMITH.

left out of view, or only vaguely hinted at it. When
comparing the effects of the colonial trade as monopolized
with its eifects if left free, he assumes that all nations have
their colonial trade unfettered, and omits to remark that
any one doing so woidd not gain at all as he supposes, if
the others continued the exclusive system. — Akin to this
is his overlooking the dilemma in which England, France,
and Holland were severally placed by the Spanish and
Portuguese monopolies. In order to share the advan-
tages of the colonial trade they were compelled to have
colonies of their own. It is one thing to ask, Whether
there b*e any benefit from this or that given country
planting colonies ? and another to ask, Whether the
colonial trade is ever otherwise than in some degree
beneficial? Possibly it would be better if two or three
nations should plant colonies, especially if they let
others profit by their traffic, that these others should
have none of their own. But who is so wild as to
expect that ever this could happen, that any nation
should be at all the expense, trouble, risk of founding
and rearing a settlement, and afterwards of governing
and protecting it, and then let all other nations benefit
equally by its commerce? — Lastly, Dr. Smith has
omitted to consider the great advantage which a nation
derives from having once had colonial possessions, even
after they have thrown off the yoke and ceased to be
under the government of the mother country. The
market for her produce is thus continued ; the intercourse
of emigration and of trade is maintained between the
nations now become independent; common origin, com-
mon language, common laws and customs, making the
firm bond which naturally exists between the parent

WEALTH OP NATIONS. 177

state and the colony, survive their political severance;
and if no untoward circumstances have attended that
event, there must always remain a natural amity and
alliance between the two branches of the same people.
All these things have been fully explained in the work
upon Colonial Policy which I published two-and-forty
years ago, and they are there illustrated by the history
of all the European settlements in America and else-
where. It is also there shown how little the charge of
colonial government has been, and how rarely colonial
interests have involved the mother country in war.

vii. The subject of the mercantile system, the first
part of the fourth book, is closed with a general chapter,
containing not a summary of the insuperable objections
to that theory, as might have been expected from the
title — 'Conclusion of the Mercantile System' — but a
number of remarks on bounties and prohibitions, speci-
fying those actually given or imposed. These it is unne-
cessary to abstract.

In concluding the analysis of this, the most important
part of Dr. Smith's work, we may be permitted to
consider, with some regret, that he should have so con-
stantly expressed himself with harshness respecting the
mercantile and manufacturing classes of the community,
or rather the merchants and the master manufacturers.
He, on all occasions, regards them as inferior in character
to the land-owners and farmers, inferior in patriotism
and disinterestedness, inferior in good feeling — in short
only to be praised for their greater acuteness, and better
knowledge of their own interests. This spirit, which he
derives from a view of the many restrictive laws which
may no doubt be traced to them, breaks forth constantly

N

178 ADAM SMITH.

in the course of the book, but it is especially to be
observed in such passages as that of Book iv., chap, ii.,
(Vol. II., p. 307); Book iv., chap, vii., (II., 441); Book
iv., chap, viii., (II., 489*). He carries his prejudice
even further; he regards manufacturing industry as
wholly unfavourable to both the acquisition of know-
ledge, the enlargement of the mind, and even the enjoy-
ment of health.

Part II. — The remaining part of this fourth book is
devoted to a Ml explanation of the agricultural system,
that is, the theory of the French Economists, and to
remarks tending to show how erroneously it deals with
the classification of labour and profits, when it represents
employment of labour or of capital in agriculture as
alone productive. The subject has already been so fully
discussed, both in the foregoing analysis and in the Ap-
pendix, that nothing remains to be added in this place.

* " The member of parliament who supports every proposal for
strengthening their monopoly, is sure to acquire not only the repu-
tation of understanding trade but great popularity. If he opposes
them, on the contrary, and still more if he has authority enough to
be able to thwart them, neither the most acknowledged probity or
the highest rank, nor the greatest public services, can protect him
from the most infamous abuse and detraction, from personal insults,
nay, sometimes from real danger from the insolent outrage of
furious and disappointed monopolists." (Ii., 206.) — "Our great
master manufacturers are as intent to keep down the wages of their
own weavers, or the earnings of the poor spinners, and it is by no
means for the benefit of the workman that they endeavour either to
raise the price of the complete work or to lower that of the ruder
material. It is the industry which is carried on for the benefit
of the rich and powerful that is principally encouraged by our
mercantile system, — that which is carried on for the benefit of the
poor and the indigent is too often either neglected or oppressed."
(II. 489.)

WEALTH OP NATIONS. 179

V. We are thus brought to the fifth and last book of
Dr. Smith's work, in which he examines the important
subject of the Public Revenue, or that portion of the
revenue of individuals which is allotted to the Expenses
of the State. This subject is treated in three subdivisions:
the expenses of the commonwealth; the sources of the
public revenue ; public debts.

i. The expenses of the commonwealth are — first,
those of defence; secondly, those of justice; thirdly,
those of public works and institutions ; fourthly, those for
supporting the sovereign's dignity.

1. In treating of defence, we are led to consider the
progress of the military art. At first, all the clan
are warriors, and the chief is the first warrior. In
the hunting state, very small bodies can be collected; in
the pastoral state only, large bodies may be gathered
together; in the infancy of the agricultural state, also,
large forces may be raised. But as society advances,
manufactures are introduced, and the ruder art of war is
improved. It thus becomes doubly necessary to have a
certain class of the community trained to arms, and alone
called out to serve; for without this, manufacturing
industry could not go on, and the military art could not
be learnt. If this plan be pursued, a regular army is
raised; if the whole citizens in rotation are called upon
to serve, it is a militia. The superior efficiency of stand-
ing armies has been felt in all ages. Philip of Macedon
by their help conquered Greece, and his son conquered
Persia. The victories of Hannibal, and, after the second
Punic War, those of Rome, were owing to the same
superiority. The history of modern wars reads the
same lesson. The expense, however, of this mode of

N 2

180 ADAM SMITH.

defence, now become necessary, is very great in all
countries.

2. In early times, the administration of justice in the
hands of the sovereign, or of his delegate, was not an
expense, but a source of revenue ; and hence the greatest
abuses, the most sordid corruption, the most cruel injus-
tice, disfigured the administration. Afterwards, justice
was said to be administered gratis, that is, by persons
whom the sovereign paid; but in all countries fees were
exacted from the suitors. Dr. Smith is very far from
perceiving the evils of taxing law proceedings; and,
indeed, this is one of the parts of his work in which he
seems to have taken the least pains, either to inform
himself, or to acquire sound notions of principle. Mr.
Bentham has, in his admirable tract on the subject
('Protest against Law Taxes'), demonstrated unanswer-
ably that these imposts are the very worst that have ever,
to any considerable extent, been adopted by any civilized
nation. Dr. Smith, however, had very sound ideas on
the necessity of separating the judicial from the executive
office in every State.

3. Institutions or works are of three classes — those
for aiding the commerce of the country, those for the
education of youth, and those for instructing its adult
citizens.

(1.) Those for aiding commerce may either be directed
to help the general commerce of a country, or to help
particular branches. To the former class belong canals
roads, bridges — of which the cost, either as to making or
repairing, may be well and justly defrayed by a toll on
those who use them. In some countries, as in France,
this expense is defrayed by the State on all the common

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 181

roads; in others, as in England, the property of tolls
is in private hands, and the burthen of repairing the
roads lies on them. The repair of the Languedoc Canal
was intrusted, with its tolls, to the Engineer Riqueti's
family. A local administration in such cases is always
better than a central — less costly, and less liable to
abuse. To the class of works required for particular
branches of commerce belong — factories, established in
countries either wholly barbarous, or varying widely in
their customs and laws from our own; establishments of
Consuls and Ministers; regulated companies, and joint
stock companies. Those joint stock companies the
members of which have the privilege of transferring their
shares, and of being only liable each to the extent of his
subscription, have a tendency to draw more capital into
the trade than could be invested by the members of
private partnerships. Hence they are only to be
approved in cases where there is great public benefit to
be derived from the trade they undertake, and where
private adventure would be insufficient to conduct it.
There seem to be only four kinds of business which
justify their formation — banking, insurances, canals,
water-works. Had Dr. Smith lived to our day, he would
have included railways. The numbers of such com-
panies for purposes of foreign trade which have failed,
when not supported by the grant of exclusive privileges,
is so great, that, a century ago, the Abbe Morellet enu-
merated no less than fifty-five such instances in one
hundred and fifty years.

(2.) Institutions for the education of children or
youth do not necessarily fall on the State to maintain
them; they may defray their own expenses. The

182 ADAM SMITH.

general rule of such establishments is, that they are
founded or endowed by private munificence, sometimes
by the bounty of former sovereigns. Dr. Smith con-
tends that their instruction is always worse than that of
schools and colleges which subsist by the exertions of
teachers paid by school fees. He also objects to such
endowments, as drawing to literary pursuits a greater
number of persons than would naturally devote them-
selves to a literary life, or than its gains can support.
He seems to admit, however, that there is an advantage
even in the small amount of education bestowed in
endowed schools and colleges, so very much underrated
by him; for he suggests that without them there might
have been nothing taught at all. He has even carried
his view further, and allowed that the public should
establish parish schools: apparently on the ground that
the very ignorance which such establishments are calcu-
lated to remove, if left to operate, would prevent the
bulk of mankind from making any exertion to obtain
schools and teachers, by preventing men from being
aware of their own deficiencies.

(3.) The institutions for adult education are chiefly
those for teaching religion. Dr. Smith does not give a
very decided opinion against an establishment supported
by law and by the State, but all, or nearly all his
reasoning tends towards that negative ; and he gets the
better of Mr. Hume's argument, (which he cites as that of
" by far the greatest philosopher and historian of the
present age,") that there is no better way of preventing the
dangers of fanaticism than paying a clergy to be quiet/""

* "Qui otium reipublica? perturbant, redclam otiosos." (Cic.)

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 183

by stating that this mischief may be counteracted
in two ways: encouraging the study of science not by
foundations, but by requiring certain qualifications in
philosophical knowledge as the title to offices ; and
encouraging the arts and amusements, including dramatic
exhibitions by which he sets great store. In discussing
establishments he touches but slightly on tithes, which he
regards as a tax upon the landlord, overlooking the con-
sideration that they are a property which never belonged
to him, and are by many reasoners held to be, I think on
very doubtful grounds, no more a tax than a rent-charge
on his land is. He afterwards recurs to the subject,
but no where enters fully into it.

(4.) The expense of maintaining the sovereign's dignity
necessarily increases with the progress of luxury and
refinement: when all ranks live expensively, the sove-
reign must be maintained in greater and more expensive
luxury than any.

ii. Having considered the expenses which fall upon
the government in performing its functions and discharg-
ing its duties, we come next to examine the sources
from which the funds are derived, to meet those ex-
penses. These funds are of two descriptions; funds be-
longing to the Sovereign or the State, the revenue of
which forms a public income — or income levied from the
subjects of the State in the form of taxes. This division
of the subject, therefore, is sub-divided into two parts.

Part 1. The Sovereign or the State may be possessed
of property, and frequently has been, of various kinds.
It may even have labourers, and employ them at a pro-
fit ; or it may carry on profitable business on its own
account and as a source of revenue. In rude States the
Prince profits by the herds which belong to him, and sup-

184 ADAM SMITH.

port his expenditure and his power. Where slavery is
allowed, the Prince may make a profit by the labour of his
slaves. Small republics have driven traffic by their own
mercantile profit in various ways. Hamburgh used to
have the profit of selling wines in a public wine-cellar,
and drugs in an apothecary's shop. Banking was always
a source of revenue to the smaller Italian republics, and
to Venice, Hamburgh, and Amsterdam. Many Princes
have traded like private individuals. The Egyptian
Pacha does so at this day ; nor is there anything more
unfair than such dignitaries entering into competition with
their subjects, over whose dealings they exercise a con-
troul. The post-office has always been to the Govern-
ment of England and other countries a considerable
source of revenue. Some Italian and German States
have profited by insurance against fire and sea risk.
Many of these small States have gained profit by lending
at interest their savings or treasure, and thus dealing
like other money-lenders. Most States have driven the
gainful and dishonest trade of gambling, by way of lot-
tery. But land has in all instances been held by the
State. In former times it formed the bulk of the revenue
in all feudal countries, the Sovereign being the greatest
feudal lord, and defraying all, or nearly all the expenses
of his government by his rents as a landowner, while for
his military establishment he had to depend upon the
precarious and temporary services of the inferior land-
owners, the crown vassals. It was when the progress of
civilization made such military service inconvenient and
even impossible, that regular armies became necessary;
these required a greater expenditure than the crown lands
could supply ; and other sources of revenue became ne-
cessary. The other expenses of the Government were

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 185

increased in proportion, and hence the total inadequacy
of the rents compelled the State to provide for the go-
vernment in all its branches by the levying of money
from the people. This gave rise to the modern System
of Taxation.

Part 2. Taxes imposed upon the people of any coun-
try, must necessarily fall, either upon the rent of land,
the profits of stock, or the wages of labour ; and a tax
may fall on one or more of these three great branches of
the income of the community. Hence the subject divides
itself into four heads, as taxes are intended to fall upon
rents, profits, wages, or on all indiscriminately, — I say, are
intended so to fall, because we shall presently see that
the incidence of an impost may be very different from
that which its authors intended it should be. But there
are four leading principles which apply to all taxes what-
ever, and which must in considering the merits of any
given tax be kept always in view. First. All the subjects
of a State should be called upon to contribute as nearly
as possible in proportion to their several means or in-
comes. Secondly. Each individual should be taxed ac-
cording to a known and certain, and not an arbitrary
rule. Thirdly. Every tax should be levied in the time
and manner most likely to suit the convenience of the
contributors. Fourthly. Every tax should be so con-
trived as to take and to keep out of the people's pockets
as little as possible beyond what goes into the coffers of
the State. A tax may depart from this last principle in
four ways : by requiring too large a number to collect and
manage it; or by obstructing the people's industry and
so injuring the fund of payment; or by encouraging
smuggling and thus increasing the price of commodities,

186 ADAM SMITH.

while it ruins by prosecutions; or by subjecting the
people to vexatious search and other annoyances, which
though not directly money payments, may yet be reckoned
as costing what every one would readily give to avoid the
evil. This fourth maxim thus appears to be the most
important of the whole. According as any tax does
or does not conform itself to these several maxims, it is
good or bad.

1. A tax on rent may be imposed either by valuing
each district at so much yearly, and taking thence a sum,
which shall never afterwards be altered; or by taking so
much in proportion to the actual rent in every year, or at
stated periods of adjustment, and so making the tax rise
or fall with the actual value of landed income. In this
country the land-tax, settled in the 4th William and
Mary, comes under the first of these classes, and there-
fore sins against the first of the four maxims, but conforms
itself to the other three. The second kind of tax is the
Impot Fonder e of the French Economists. They con-
tend, that all taxes fall ultimately upon rent, and there-
fore they argue that they ought to be at once and
directly imposed upon it. But though Dr. Smith de-
clines a discussion of the metaphysical reasoning by which
they maintain such to be the ultimate incidence of all
taxes, he yet undertakes to show by a review of the facts
and arguments that the just conclusion is otherwise. He
gives, however, no such proof ; he contents himself with
a statement taken from the Memoires sur les Droits, pub-
lished by the French Government, in what manner the
tax upon rent and tithes is secured in many of the prin-
cipal countries of the Continent. He next considers land-
taxes, when taken in proportion to the produce and not

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 187

to the rent ; and he shows clearly enough, that these,
though advanced by the farmer, are paid by the land-
lord. Tithe and other such burthens, falling under this
description, are unequal because in different lands and
different situations, the produce, and consequently the
tax, bears a different proportion to the rent. Taxes on
the rent of houses, he clearly shows, must fall indifferently
on all the sources of revenue, rent, profit, and wages,
the house itself yielding no revenue, and by its use and
wear resembling a consumable commodity. As nothing
is a better test of a person's whole expenses than the
house he lives in, a house tax is recommended by the
first maxim, and it suits well enough with the other three.
The ground-rent and not the rent payable for profits of
building should be the subject of this tax, because that
would not raise house-rent, and it would fall heaviest on
the capital and larger houses, which can best afford to
pay it. As revenue from houses is received without
exerting any labour, and with little care either of superin-
tendence or collection, it is a better subject of taxation
than land-rents.

2. A tax upon the profits of stock must either fall
upon the part of the profits which goes to pay the interest
of the stock, or the price paid for the stock, or it must
fall on the surplus profit over what the interest amounts
to. The former revenue belongs to the owner of the stock,
the latter being a compensation, generally a very mode-
rate compensation, for the trouble and risk of employ-
ing the stock. He cannot pay this himself, for if he did
he must run the risk and take the trouble for inadequate
reward. Therefore he lays it upon the price of his goods
if a trader, or deducts it from the rent if a farmer, or he

188 ADAM SMITH.

must take it from the interest, if lie does not either raise
his prices or lower his rent. Now the interest, though
it seems to be, like rent, a fit subject of taxation, is
really not so, for two reasons : it is impossible to get at
profits of trade as you do at rent, and it is easy to re-
move stock in trade, while land is not removable. The
result has been, that where attempts have been made to
tax profits, the State has had recourse to some vague and
inaccurate estimate, and has been always content with a
very moderate proportion, answering to a very low valua-
tion. Thus our land-tax, though intended to tax all
profits, falls mainly on the country and on houses in the
towns. In Holland and in Hamburgh, where stock was
taxed, the inhabitants were allowed to assess themselves
that an inquisition might be avoided. Had Dr. Smith
lived to our days, he would have found some reason to be
confirmed in his opinion of the land paying far more than
its share, owing to its being irremovable and unconcealable ;
but he would also have seen how considerable an ap-
proximation to equal payment could be made by inqui-
sitorial proceedings, and well-constructed machinery.—
Taxes laid on particular trades must fall on the consumer,
as the dealer will not remain in a business which does
not yield the average rate of profit. A tax on all profits
of one trade, but proportioned to each dealer's trade,
finally falls on the consumer ; if not so proportioned it
falls on the consumer, but favours great and oppresses
small dealers. The shop-tax once proposed had this
disadvantage in a great degree ; for all shops must have
paid. The personal taille in France was a tax upon
farmers' profits, and as a farmer paying rent never can
withhold his crop from the market in order to raise his

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 189

prices, he can only throw the taille on the landlord by
lowering his rent. The tax being levied according to the
farmer's stock, made every one stock his farm as badly
as possible, and endeavour to conceal the stock he had.
Poll-taxes in countries having slaves, are taxes on profits.
Poll-taxes on free men are of a wholly different nature,
and are the most unequal of all. Taxes on household
servants are taxes on consumption, and they are objec-
tionable because servants are not employed in proportion
to the income of their masters ; then these taxes fall
heavier on the middle classes, and not at all on the lower
orders, unless so far as they may prevent some from find-
ing employment.

An Appendix on this head discusses Taxes on Capital,
which have not generally been intended to be levied by
any State ; all the imposts of this kind being meant to
affect income only. But when property changes hands
by death, then both the Romans in Augustus' time, the
Dutch, the English, and all feudal countries, in taxing the
casualties, intentionally levied imposts upon capital. The
feudal perquisites on alienation operated when property
was sold. Stamp duties on purchases have with us the same
operation. Taxes on succession fall on the owner ;
taxes on sale fall on the seller, because he is the needy
person and must pay. The Spanish Alcavala seems to
be of this class, though Dr. Smith does not here consider
it. All taxes on capital are unthrifty, because they
diminish the fund for employing labour and machinery,
or increasing production. Living upon the principal, is
accordingly a common expression to denote the usual
spendthrift course.

It must be observed that Dr. Smith in this, as in other

190 ADAM SMITH.

parts of his work, leaves out of view one important cir-
cumstance when speaking of capitalists, and also of
labourers, shifting their stock or their labour to new
channels of employment when a burthen is laid on them,
or any other demand is made which tends to lower their
gains. They very often linger on a long time, perhaps
all their lives, in order to avoid the disagreeable conse-
quences of the change; and because they have become
expert in one employment and could not soon be equally
so in another. What they would pay to avoid a risk or a
disagreeable change of employment or business, may fairly
be reckoned the difference of the two in value to them,
according to an argument often used by Dr. Smith, and
this price they pay for continuing in their former business
or occupation. It is also to be observed that Dr. Smith,
when he speaks of the tax often being thrown on the
consumer, forgets the important consideration that the
power of so throwing it depends on the condition of the
market. When the demand is rising, or even stationary
if steady, the tax may be thrown on the consumer ; when
the market is falling, or is fluctuating, the trader is
unable so to throw it, and he must either pay it himself
or quit the trade.

3. Taxes on wages must be paid by the rise of wages
a good deal higher than the tax ; the tax is not even
advanced in the first instance by the labourer, but by his
employer, who must lay it on goods, or deduct it, if a farmer,
from rent. Hence the consumer or the landlord must
always pay such taxes. The French taille was charged
on labourers as well as farmers, and produced great evils.
In Bohemia artificers paid a tax of ten pounds a year in
the highest class, and so clown to two pounds ten shillings

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 1.91

in the lowest. The emoluments of office-bearers if so
taxed do not fall under the same rule, as the competition
is not open. The tax on these falls on the officer.

4. The taxes intended to fall on all the three, funds,
rent, profits and wages, indiscriminately, are capitation
taxes, and those on consumable commodities.

(1.) Poll-taxes are utterly unjust if they be not ap-
portioned to fortune; even then a great injustice must
take place, and a yearly inquisition is necessary, as a
man's fortune is constantly varying. If they are, as our
poll-tax of William III.'s time, laid on rank, they are
manifestly unequal. In France the poll-tax was laid
on the higher orders by a tariff according to rank;
on the lower and middle classes it was levied accord-
ing to property, and subjected the people to a severe
inquisition. In so far as the taxes fall on the lower
orders they are levied on wages, and liable to the objec-
tions stated to those imposts. The difficulties of a poll-
tax being applied to expenditure or income gave rise to
the taxes on consumable commodities.

(2.) These commodities are either necessaries or luxu-
ries. Taxes on the former would be perfectly unequal if
their incidence was ultimately what it is intended to be in
the first instance ; but they are really taxes on labour, and
must fall on the employer, not on the workman, the em-
ployer laying them on the landlord or the consumer. Those
on luxuries are not so transferred, even those on the luxur-
ies of the poor. Thus the duties on beer and tobacco do
not raise wages, nor materially diminish the power of
bringing up a family ; nor do they necessarily raise the
price of any except the taxed commodities. The taxes
on the four necessaries, salt, leather, soap and candles.

192 ADAM SMITH.

affect in some small degree the wages of labour ; however,
the salt-tax, now repealed (somewhat hastily, by the efforts
of party,) pressed so very lightly that its loss has been
pretty generally lamented, and it certainly yielded to the
clamour against its disproportion to the price of the
article, and its requiring so many persons to collect it.
Dr. Smith, however, condemns much more strongly two
other measures which operate as taxes on the mere
necessaries of life, and yield no revenue ; the bounty on
exportation of corn, and the protecting duties on the
importation of that and meat. But he considers these as
clearly tending to raise the price of labour, and conse-
quently regards their repeal as sure to lower wages ; so
that the advocates of that repeal are prevented from
quoting his authority because they always deny this
tendency of the measure, or at least have always denied it
since the working-classes hearing the arguments originally
advanced for the repeal, from its being expected to lower
wages, plainly indicated their aversion to the change.
Dr. Smith shows that in other countries a high direct tax
is imposed on flour, and even on bread, instancing Hol-
land, where it was supposed to make the money price of
bread double in the towns; the country inhabitants
paying a poll-tax in lieu of it. The taxes on luxuries
fall pretty equally on the whole people, according to their
consumption. The great bulk of them is paid by the
inferior and most numerous classes, but no rise of wages
being caused by this payment, the burthen remains where
it first falls. Dr. Smith strongly recommends the repeal
of beer-taxes, and substituting malt-taxes instead; this
has since been so far effected that beer is no longer
directly taxed. But these taxes especially, on the upper

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 193

classes, do not fall iu proportion to income, for they are
proportioned to expenditure only, which varies much
more in the higher classes than in the middle and lower
ranks. Absentees, too, pay no such taxes, and accord-
ingly Dr. Smith is an advocate for absentee taxes, giving
Ireland as an example of the effects of persons being
non-resident on their estates, and wholly forgetting that
an Irish family residing in England contributes to the
revenue by which Ireland is governed and defended, as
much as a Scotch family living in London does to the
government and defence of Scotland; or a Yorkshire
family to that of Yorkshire. He shows, however, very
clearly that all taxes upon consumable commodities sin
against the fourth maxim ; they keep and take more from
the people than almost any others, creating a number of
excise and customs officers, by raising prices and dis-
couraging consumption, by vexatious prosecutions for
smuggling, and by vexatious visits of officers. He here
discusses the alcavala, or tax on sales of all kinds, in
Spain, at first of ten and even fourteen per cent., and
afterwards of six per cent., and a similar tax of three
per cent, on all contracts in the Spanish kingdom of
Naples. He institutes an interesting comparison between
the old system of taxation in France, and that of England,
giving the clear advantage to the latter.

Upon the whole it must be admitted, that the long
chapter on taxation, (one of the longest, having 153
pages,) though, from the variety of the facts brought
together, it is exceedingly entertaining, is less instructive
than any other part of the ' Wealth of Nations ;' because
the principles are not very fully and carefully discussed,
because the whole operation of the different taxes de-

o

194 ADAM SMITH.

scribed is not accurately traced, and because, therefore,
the important point of their ultimate incidence is not
accurately and satisfactorily pursued and explained. Some
of the most important taxes are very slightly touched
upon, and the subject of an income-tax is very imperfectly
handled. The doctrine of the Economists of a single
tax, impot fonciere, being substituted for all others, is
rather indirectly treated than fully and authoritatively
exposed, while so great an error claimed ample refuta-
tion ; and the manifest fairness as well as advantage of
so distributing taxes, as to give every variety to them,
and thus to make their ultimate incidence as universal
as possible, and yet as far as possible proportionate to
the means of payment, is not at all dwelt upon, hardly
touched.

iii. In the early stages of society and of government,
the Sovereign always making provision for extraordinary
occurrences, used to amass out of his annual income,
either accruing from property or obtained by taxes,
savings which formed a treasure in course of time. Even as
far down as the early part of the eighteenth century, the
Prussian treasure enabled Frederic II. to carry on suc-
cessful wars almost as much as the disciplined army, to
which he succeeded from his father. But in our times
extraordinary emergencies are met by borrowing; and
all Governments are more or less in debt, many of them
heavily indebted. It is much easier for the Government
of a commercial country to raise loans than for any other,
because capitalists are ever to be found able and willing to
advance money on the public security. For the most part
these loans have at first been personal, that is, on the
general credit of the Government ; afterwards when

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 195

that was exhausted, the lenders required security, and
branches of the public revenue were mortgaged for
repayment of the loans. The unfunded debt of this
country belongs to the former class, the funded to the
latter. The convenience of raising supplies by loan is
obvious; but its mischievous consequences are as mani-
fest, and they very far counterbalance its advantages.
Were all supplies required for a war to be raised by
taxes within the year, or were this the general rule, then
would the reluctance to engage in war, and the readiness
to make peace after the war had been begun, be incal-
culably increased and universally diffused; and a loan
might always be resorted to as an exception to the rule
when public feelings were directed against continuing a
war absolutely necessary for the honour, that is, for the
existence of the State. These I place as synonymous
ideas, because no war, however short, can ever be beneficial
on a calculation of profit and loss ; and thus only those
wars are justifiable on sound policy which are required
by the necessity of averting national disgrace, and are
entered into for the national independence, placed in
imminent peril by submitting to insult, as a man's whole
fortune is by consenting to pay money under a threat,
or submitting to any other extortion. But for this con-
sideration no one would defend an action, or sue a
debtor for a small sum of money, even if his adversary
admitted himself to be in the wrong.

The payment, or the escape from the payment of
debts, forms an important subject of consideration in
this discussion. Generally speaking, the latter course
has been taken when the burthen became heavy. The
most common expedient, the most hurtful, and the

o 2

196 ADAM SMITH.

most disgraceful, has been tampering with the coin.
This has been done in two ways, — one by raising its
denomination, making, for instance, every pound be
called two pounds ; the other, by debasing it with alloy :
and these two expedients differ only in the form, —
the one being an act of open violence, the other an act
of secret fraud; but both have the effect of cheating
all creditors, not only those of the State, but those of
private debtors, to the amount of the difference between
the two nominal values in the one case, and the two
real values in the other. Most countries have had re-
course to one or both of these expedients, and it is of
ancient origin; for the Romans had first by one and
then by the other expedient, before the end of the
second Punic war, made the coin worth nominally two-
and-twenty times more than it originally was.

Incited by a view of the dangers of taxation, perpe-
tuated by public debts, Dr. Smith strongly recommends
the increase of such taxes as are most according to prin-
ciple, and fall in with the four general maxims already
stated ; but above all, he recommends in what he admits
to be a kind of " New Utopia," but not more useless and
chimerical than "the old one," a general union of the
whole empire, by giving both Ireland and all the colonies
representatives, and thus making all parts of our domi-
nion contribute to a fund for paying off the debt which
was contracted for the government and the defence of
them all. This plan, with its details, closes the work.
The recommendation as regards Ireland has been suc-
cessfully adopted and carried into execution. It was
soon made clear by the events of the American war that
no such incorporation of the distant provinces could be

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 197

effected. Mr. Burke, in a speech on conciliation with
America, adverted to such a plan and said, " A great
flood stops me in my course. Opposuit natura. I can-
not remove the eternal barriers of the creation."""" No
representative Government ever can be maintained, when
the delegate and his constituents live on the opposite
shores of the Atlantic.

Having now finished the analytical view of this great
work, the opinion may, in conclusion, be expressed,
which all men are now agreed in entertaining of its pro-
digious merits. It may truly be said to have founded
the science of Political Economy, as it exists in its new
and greatly improved form. Many preceding authors
had treated different branches of the subject ; some, as
we have seen in the introduction to this Life, had, before
Dr. Smith's time, treated several of those branches upon
the sound and rational principles which he applied to
economical questions. Systematic treatises were not
wanting which professed to embrace the whole as a sci-
ence ; and of these the most extensive and most valuable
was Sir James Stewart's. But the ' Wealth of Nations '
combines both the sound and enlightened views which
had distinguished the detached pieces of the French and
Italian Economists, and above all, of Mr. Hume, with the
great merit of embracing the whole subject, thus bring-
ing the general scope of the principles into view, illus-
trating all the parts of the inquiry by their combined
relations, and confirming their soundness in each instance
by their application to the others. The copiousness of

* Works, iii., 91.

198 ADAM SMITH.

the illustrations keeps pace with the closeness of the
reasoning ; and wherever the received prejudices of
lawgivers are to be overcome, or popular errors to be
encountered, the arguments, and the facts, and the ex-
planations are judiciously given with extraordinary ful-
ness, the author wisely disregarding all imputations of
prolixity or repetition, in pursuit of the great end of
making himself understood, and gaining the victory over
error. The chapter on the Mercantile System is an
example of this ; but the errors of that widely prevailing
theory and its deeply-rooted prejudices are also encoun-
tered occasionally in almost every other part of the
work.

It is a lesser, but a very important merit, that the
style of the writing is truly admirable. There is not a
book of better English to be any where found. The
language is simple, clear, often homely like the illustra-
tions, not seldom idiomatic, always perfectly adapted to
the subject handled. Beside its other perfections, it is
one of the most entertaining of books. There is no
laying it down after you begin to read. You are drawn
on from page to page by the strong current of the argu-
ments, the manly sense of the remarks, the fulness and
force of the illustrations, the thickly strewed and happily
selected facts. Nor can it ever escape observation, that
the facts, far from being a mere bede-roll of details un-
connected with principle and with each other, derive
their whole interest from forming parts of a whole, and
reflecting the general views which they are intended to
exemplify or to support.

This admirable work has received the aid of several
learned and able commentators, of whom Professor

WEALTH OF NATIONS. 199

Maccullocli is, beyond all question, the first in this coun-
try, and M. de Gamier abroad. The edition of the
former is a book of great value, and like his excellent
treatise on Political Economy in the ' Encyclopaedia
Britannica/ ought to be in the hands of every one who
would study this science with success. *

* The editions of Dr. Smith's works referred to in this Life are,
' Moral Sentiments/ London, 1792, and 'Wealth of Nations,' Lon-
don, 1802; being the seventh of the former, and the tenth of the
latter.

200

APPENDIX.

I. ECONOMISTS AND DR. SMITH.

THE two leading opinions which divide political inquirers
upon the sources of national wealth, are those of the Econo-
mists and of Dr. Smith. We purpose here to exhibit a
concise view of the objections to which both of these doc-
trines are eminently liable. As the general principle of a
distinction between productive and unproductive labour is
recognized by Dr. Smith, — as we conceive his theory to be
extremely inconsistent with itself, and consider it to be an
imperfect approximation to that of the Economists, we shall
begin with a short examination of the principle on which it
depends. That eminent writer divides labourers into two
classes; those who, by adding to the value of some raw
material, or by assisting in the increase of their quantity,
realize or fix in a vendible commodity the effects of their
exertions ; and those whose labour leaves nothing in existence
after the moment of exertion, but perishes in the act of per-
formance. The former he denominates productive, the latter
unproductive labourers ; not meaning thereby to undervalue
the exertions of many useful kinds of work performed by the
unproductive order, but merely asserting that they do not
augment the wealth of the community. Thus, the work of
the farm- servant, or manufacturing labourer, is fixed in a
useful commodity; the work of a menial servant perishes
with the motion of his hands, and adds to the value of
nothing. A man grows rich by employing a number of the
former; he ruins himself by keeping a multitude of the
latter.

To begin with this illustration. The case of the menial

ADAM SMITH. 201

servant must not be compared with that of the labourer
employed in farming or manufactures. The menial is em-
ployed by the consumer, and for his own use exclusively ;
the farm-servant and journeyman are employed by another
party, by whom the consumer is supplied. The former is,
properly speaking, in the predicament of a commodity bought
or hired for consumption or use ; the latter rather resembles
a tool bought or hired for working withal. But, at any rate,
there is no such difference as Dr. Smith supposes between
the effects of maintaining a multitude of these several kinds
of workmen. It is the extravagant quantity, not the peculiar
quality of the labour thus paid for, that brings on ruin. A
man is ruined if he keeps more servants than he can afford
or employ, and does not let them out for hire, — exactly as
he is ruined by purchasing more food than he can consume,
or by employing more workmen in any branch of manu-
factures than his business requires, or his profits will pay.

But it may be observed, in general, that there is no solid
distinction between the effective powers of the two classes
whom Dr. Smith denominates productive and unproductive
labourers. The end of all labour is to augment the wealth of
the community; that is to say, the fund from which the
members of that community derive their subsistence, their
comforts and enjoyments. To confine the definition of wealth
to mere subsistence is absurd. Those who argue thus admit
butcher's meat and manufactured liquors to be subsistence ;
yet neither of them are necessary; for if all comfort and
enjoyment be kept out of view, vegetables and water would
suffice for the support of life ; and by this mode of reasoning
the epithet of productive would be limited to the sort of
employment that raises the species of food which each
climate and soil is fitted to yield in greatest abundance, with
the least labour ; — to the culture of maize in some countries ;
of rice in others; of potatoes, or yams, or the bread-fruit
tree in others : and in no country would any variation of
employment whatever be consistent with the definition.
According to this view of the question, therefore, the menial
servant, the judge, the soldier and the buffoon, are to be
ranked in the same class with the husbandmen and manu-

202 ADAM SMITH.

facturers of every civilized community. The produce of the
labour is, in all these cases, calculated to supply either the
necessities, the comforts, or the luxuries of society ; and that
nation has more real wealth than another, which possesses
more of all those commodities. If this is not admitted, then
we can compare the two countries only in respect of their
relative shares of articles indispensably requisite, and produced
in greatest abundance, considering the soil and climate of
each : and, as nothing which is not necessary is to be reckoned
valuable, a nation wallowing in all manner of comforts and
enjoyments is to be deemed no richer than a horde fed upon
the smallest portion of the cheapest grain, or roots and water,
which is sufficient to support human life.

But it is maintained that, admitting the wealth of a com-
munity to be augmented by the labour of those whom
Dr. Smith denominates unproductive, still they are in a
different predicament from the productive class, inasmuch as
they do not augment the exchangeable value of any separate
portions of the society's stock — neither increasing the quan-
tity of that stock, nor adding to the value of what formerly
existed. To this, however, it may be replied, that it appears
of very little consequence whether the wants of the com-
munity are supplied directly by men, or mediately by men
with the intervention of matter — whether we receive certain
benefits and conveniences from those men at once, or only in
the form of inanimate and disposable substances. Dr. Smith
would admit that labour to be productive which realized
itself in a stock, though that stock were destined to perish
the next instant. If a player or musician, instead of charming
our ears, were to produce something which, when applied to
our senses, would give us pleasure for a single moment of
time, their labour would be called productive, although the
produce were to perish in the very act of employment.
Wherein, then, lies the difference ? Merely in this — that we
must consume the one produce at a certain time and place,
and may use the other in a latitude somewhat, though but
little, more extensive. This difference, however, disappears
altogether, when we reflect that the labour would still be
reckoned productive which should give us a tangible equi-

ADAM SMITH. 203

valent, though it could not be carried from the spot of its
production, and could last only a second in our hands upon
that spot. The musician, in reality, affects our senses by
modulating the air ; i. e., he works upon the air, and renders
a certain portion of it worth more than it was before he
manufactured it. He communicates this value to it only for
a moment, and in one place ; there and then we are obliged
to consume it. A glassblower, again, prepares some metal
for our amusement or instruction, and blows it up to a great
volume. He has now fixed his labour to a tangible com-
modity. He then exchanges it, or gives it to us, that we
may immediately use it; i.e., blow it until it flies to shivers.
He has fixed his labour, however, we say, in a vendible com-
modity. But we may desire his further assistance — we may
require him to use it for our benefit ; and, without any pause
in his process of blowing, he bursts it. This case approaches
as nearly as possible to that of the musician ; yet Dr. Smith
maintains that the latter is a different kind of labour from
the former. Nay, according to him, the labour of the glass-
blower is productive, if he spoils the process, and defeats the
end of the experiment, by pausing, and giving into unskilful
hands the bubble before it bursts. But if he performs the
whole of that instructive operation, by contemplating which
Sir Isaac Newton was taught the nature of colour, his labour
must be denominated unproductive !

But it is not fair to deny that the class called unproductive
fixes its labour in some existing commodity. First, we may
observe that no labour, not even that of the farmer, can lay
claim to the quality of actually adding to the stock already
in existence: man never creates; he only modifies the mass
of matter previously in his possession. But, next, the class
alluded to does actually, like the class termed unproductive,
realize its labour in an additional value conferred upon the
stock formerly existing. The only difference is, that instead
of working upon detached portions, this class operates upon
the stock of the community in general. Thus, the soldier
renders every portion of the stock more valuable by securing
the whole from plunder; and the judge, by securing the whole
from injury. Dr. Smith would allow that man to be a pro-

204 ADAM SMITH.

ductive labourer who should manufacture bolts and bars for
the defence of property. Is not he also, then, a productive
labourer, who protects property in the mass, and adds to
every portion of it the quality of being secure? In like
manner, those who increase the enjoyments of society, add a
value to the stock previously existing; they furnish new equi-
valents for which it may be exchanged; they render the stock
worth more, i. e., exchangeable for more — capable of com-
manding more enjoyments than it formerly could command.
The stock of the community is either that part which is con-
sumed by the producer, or that part which he exchanges for
some object of desire. Were there nothing for which to
exchange the latter portion, it would soon cease to be pro-
duced. Hence the labour that augments the sum of the
enjoyments and objects of desire for which this portion may
be exchanged, is indirectly beneficial to production. But if
this portion destined to be exchanged, is already in existence,
the labour which is supported by it, and which returns an
equivalent to the former owner, by the new enjoyments that
it yields him, must be allowed to add a value directly to the
exchangeable part of the stock.

It appears peculiarly inconsistent in Dr. Smith to deny
that labour can add to value by its general operation on the
stock of the community, and on the fund of equivalents, when
we find him frequently reckoning things by other than phy-
sical means, measuring them by other standards than actual
bulk and quantity — nay, counting their price in money when
no money can be exchanged for them. He approaches often
nearer than any assignable distance to the doctrines which I
have been explaining. Thus he more than once, but parti-
cularly in the inquiry concerning taxation, (Book vi. chap. 2,)
when mentioning the trouble or annoyance which certain
things occasion, says they may be estimated at the sum any
one would willingly give to be rid of them, and he considers
the impost which is levied by means so vexatious as increased
in its amount by that sum. Why not consider the sum also
which any one would give to secure his property from the
risk of an invasion, or of pillage in a riot, as increasing the
value of that property? Now the obtaining this security, is

ADAM SMITH. 205

the service which Government renders to the owner of the
property by defence and police; it is the service for which
their wages are paid to soldiers, and magistrates, and police
officers. Can we then, on Dr. Smith's own view, deny the
additions made to the stock of the community by these
labourers, or refuse to their labour the name of productive ?

In every point of view, therefore, it appears that the
opinion of Dr. Smith is untenable. He has drawn his line
of distinction between productive and unproductive labour in
too low a part of the scale. The labour which he denomi-
nates unproductive, has the very same qualities with a great
part of the labour which he allows to be productive. Accord-
ing to his own principles, the line should have been drawn?
so as to cut off, on the one hand, the labour which appa-
rently increases the quantity of stock, and to leave, on the
other hand, all that labour which only modifies, or in some
manner induces a beneficial change upon stock already in
existence. In a word, his principles clearly carry him to the
theory of the Economists; and, in order to be consistent, he
ought unquestionably to have reckoned agriculture the only
productive employment of capital or labour. That there is
only this one doctrine tenable, in consistency with itself, has
been, we conceive, sufficiently proved. We shall now con-
sider whether there is in reality any foundation even for this
distinction, which forms the basis of the theory supported by
the Economists.

Whoever has honoured the foregoing observations with
his attention, will speedily be satisfied that the reasonings
applied to Dr. Smith's classification of labour are applicable
also to the more precise and constituent doctrine of the fol-
lowers of Quesnay. It is the opinion of these ingenious
metaphysicians, that the labour bestowed upon the earth can
alone be considered as really productive; that all other labour
only varies the position or the form of capital, but that agri-
culture increases its net amount. That the merchant who
transports goods from the spot of their abundance to the
quarter where they are wanted, adds nothing to the whole
stock, or to the value of the portions which he circulates,
these reasoners deem almost a self-evident proposition. That

206 ADAM SMITH.

the manufacturer who fashions raw materials into useful com-
modities increases their value, the Economists indeed admit;
but they deny that any further addition is thus made to the
value of the materials than the value of the workman's main-
tenance while employed in the manufacture.

It seems obvious, at first sight, to remark, that, according
to their own principles, these theorists have committed one
error. They have ranged all labour, except that of the hus-
bandman, in the same class; while they have virtually ac-
knowledged that as great a difference subsists between the
two members of that division, as between either of them and
the other division. For surely, the merchant, who adds,
according to them, no value to any material, is as much to be
distinguished from the manufacturer who does add the value

O

of his maintenance to the raw produce, as the manufacturer
is to be distinguished from the husbandman, whose labour

O '

returns a net profit over and above the price of his mainte-
nance. This criticism is almost decisive, in a discussion
which, it must be admitted on all hands, resolves into a
question of classification. But the error of the Economists
is still more fundamental.

There is no essential difference between the powers of
man over matter, in agriculture, and in other employments.
It is a vulgar error, to suppose that, in the operations of
husbandry, any portion is added to the stock of matter for-
merly in existence. The farmer works up the raw material,
i. e., the manure, soil and seed, into grain, by means of heat,
moisture, and the vegetative powers of nature, in whatever
these may consist. The manufacturer works up his raw
material by means of certain other powers of nature. Dr.
Smith, however, who states the doctrine of the Economists
in its greatest latitude, (Chap. V., Book II., Vol. II., p. 52,
Svo. edition), asserts, that, in agriculture, nature works with
man, and that the rent is the wages of her labour ; but that,
in manufactures, man does every thing. But, does not nature
work with man, in manufacture as well as in agriculture? If
she works with him in forming a handful of seed into a sheaf
of flax, does she not also work with him in fashioning this
useless sheaf into a garment? Why draw a line between the

ADAM SMITH. 207

two effects, when a person can no more clothe himself with
an unwrought sheaf of the produce than with an unsown
handful of the seed? Why draw a line between the two
operations, when the workman can no more change the
sheaf into a garment without the aid of those powers which
we denominate nature, cohesion, divisibility, heat and mois-
ture, than the farmer can convert the seed into a sheaf with-
out the vegetative powers of heat, moisture, and cohesion?
If, instead of flax, we suppose the sheaf to be of barley, the
analogy will be still more apparent. The brewer or distiller
is certainly a productive labourer; yet the changes which he
effects are as little the direct work of his hands, as the multi-
plication of the seed in the field. The conversion of that
substance into an intoxicating beverage, is the work of
nature, as well as its growth in the harvest; and fermentation
is as great a mystery as vegetation. If the rent of land,
again, may be called the wages of nature, in agricultural
operations, the net profits of manufacturing stock may be
termed her wages in our operations upon raw produce;
meaning, by net profits, that part of the gross profit which
remains after paying the labourer who works, and him who
superintends; that is, after deducting wages, and the profit
received by a man trading on borrowed capital: for we must
always keep in view a consideration, the omission of which,
we will venture to assert, has misled almost all political
inquirers, that the rent of land is, properly speaking, the net
profit of stock advanced by the landlord, and that every
thing which the farmer receives over and above the wages
of his labour, is the profit of another stock, which may be
borrowed as well as the land ; and in this case his whole
profit resolves into wages — the case of a trader having no
capital whatever. In both cases, there is a clear gain; in
both it is obtained in the same way; in both distributed
among the same classes.

Let us, however, take an example or two, for the pur-
pose of comparing more closely the productive with the
unproductive kinds of labour. The person who makes a
plough is, according to the Economists, an unproductive
labourer, but he who drives it is a productive labourer. In

208 ADAM SMITH.

what predicament, then, is the labourer who makes a hedge
round a field for its protection, or a ditch for draining it ?
This operation, because it is called farm-work, is admitted
by the Economists to be productive. But wherein does it
differ from the plough manufacture ? Both are alike sub-
servient and necessary to the operations of ploughing and
reaping ; both are alike performed by persons who do not
raise the produce that feeds them ; — and both are alike per-
formed upon some materials produced from the earth by
other labour. If the plough were made in a bungling man-
ner by farm-servants in the out-houses of the farm, we ima-
gine the manufacture would of necessity fall under the head
of productive labour, as well as the work of hedging and
ditching. Again — Capital employed by the corn-merchant
in collecting and circulating grain, is most unproductively
employed, according to the Economists. But the capital
employed in collecting seed in a barn, carrying it from thence
to the field, and returning the crop at harvest, is employed
in the most productive manner possible. Can it be main-
tained that there is any difference whatever between these
two cases, necessarily placed by the theory of the Econo-
mists at the opposite extremes of their scale ? If the corn-
merchant lived on the ground of the farmer, and if the
farmer, from this convenient circumstance, were enabled to
sell all his grain without having any barns or granaries, cer-
tain of supplying himself at his own door next seed-time,
the Economist would be forced to allow that the capital of
the corn-merchant, in so far as it assisted the farmer, was
productively employed. — Wherein lies the difference ? — And
these observations are applicable to every case of every
manufacture, and every species of commerce whatever.
They apply to those kinds of employment which are sub-
servient to the purposes of comfort and enjoyment, as well
as to those which administer to our necessary wants; for
we showed above, that there is no possibility of drawing
a line between the cases, consistently with principles ad-
mitted even by the Economists themselves. The founda-
tion of all these misapprehensions is evidently laid in a
neglect of the great principle of the division of labour. In

ADAM SMITH. 209

whatever part of a community the labour connected with
agriculture, immediately or remotely, is performed, the sub-
division of the task renders it more productive than if it
were carried on upon the farm itself; and, to deny the same
properties to this labour, on account of its subdivision and
accumulation in different quarters, is little less than a con-
tradiction in terms.

There is only one view of the Economical theory which
remains to be taken : it is that most ingenious argument by
which the followers of Quesnai attempt to prove, that manu-
facturing labour only adds a value equal to its own mainte-
nance. The above remarks may^indeed suffice for the refuta-
tion of this doctrine, but its peculiar demonstration merits
separate attention.* The works of the artisan, the Econo-
mists maintain, are in a very different predicament from the
produce of the agricultural labourer. Multiply the former
beyond a certain extent, and either a part will remain unsold,
or the whole will sell at a reduced price. Multiply the latter
to any extent, and still the same demand will exist, from
the increased number of consumers, whom it will main-
tain. The labour of the artisan is therefore limited to a
particular quantity ; this quantity it will always nearly equal,
but never exceed; and the amount is determined by the com-
petition of different artists on the one hand, and the fixed
extent of the demand on the other. The labour of the
husbandman has no such limits. The extension of his pro-
ductions necessarily widens his market. The price of manu-
factures will therefore be reduced to the value of the raw
material, of the workman's maintenance, aud of his master's
maintenance ; while that of agricultural produce, having no
such limit, leaves always a net profit over and above the
farmer's maintenance.

In answer to this very subtle argument, we may remark,
that it proceeds on a total misconception of the principle of
population. It is absurd to suppose that the mere augmen-
tation of agricultural produce extends the demand for it, by
increasing the population of the community. If the lowest

*
P. 571

See this reasoning stated repeatedly in Dialogue 2de, Physiocratie,

P

210 ADAM SMITH.

means only of subsistence are considered, and if men will
be contented to possess only the simplest food, without any
raiment, then, no doubt, an increase of grain and roots may
increase the numbers of the consumers. But is it not evi-
dent that men require more than the mere necessaries of life,
and that even those necessaries are in part the production
of manufacturing labour ? Does not a person, in forming
his estimate of a competency, take into the account articles
of manufacture as well as husbandry, furniture, clothes, and
even luxuries — gratifications as well as meat and drink ? The
mere augmentation of those simple necessaries will never
sensibly increase the number of the consumers, any more
than the mere augmentation of articles of comfort and
luxury. An increase in the production of the one class of
commodities will operate exactly as powerfully on population,
as an increase in the production of the other class. In fact, an
increase of either may somewhat affect the numbers of the
consumers ; but in order to produce any considerable aug-
mentation of those numbers, the increase of both species of
produce must go on together. This argument, then, only
leads us by a new, and certainly an unexpected road, to an
additional conclusion in favour of the theory that utterly
denies all distinction between any of the applications of
capital and industry, which are subservient to the wants and
enjoyments of man.

The reasoning in which we have been engaged, will pro-
bably be deemed sufficient to authorize several positive infer-
ences with respect to the nature and sources of national
wealth. We trust that enough has been said to expose the
inaccuracy of drawing any line between the different channels
in which capital and labour may be employed — of separating,
with Dr. Smith and his followers, the operations of agricul-
ture, manufactures, and commerce, from those arts where
nothing tangible is produced or exchanged — or of placing,
with the Economists, the division somewhat higher, and
limiting the denomination of productive to agricultural em-
ployment alone. It may safely be concluded, that all those
occupations which tend to supply the necessary wants, or to
multiply the comforts and pleasures of human life, are equally

ADAM SMITH. 211

productive in the strict sense of the word, and tend to aug-
ment the mass of human riches, meaning, by riches, all those
things which are necessary, or convenient, or delightful to
man. The progress of society has been attended with a com-
plete separation of employments originally united. At first,
every man provided for his necessities as well as his pleasures,
and for all his wants as well as all his enjoyments. By de-
grees, a division of those cares was introduced ; the subsis-
tence of the community became the province of one class,
its comforts of another, and its gratifications of a third. The
different operations subservient to the attainment of each of
these objects, were then intrusted to different hands ; and the
universal establishment of barter connected the whole of the
divisions and subdivisions together ; enabled one man to
manufacture for all, without danger of starving by not plough-
ing or hunting ; and another to plough or hunt for all, without
the risk of wanting tools and clothes by not manufacturing.
It has thus become as impossible to say exactly who feeds,
clothes, and entertains the community, as it would be impos-
sible to say which of the many workmen employed in the
manufacture of a pin is the actual pin-maker, or which of the
farm-servants produces the crop. All the branches of useful
industry work together to the common end, as all the parts
of each branch co-operate to its particular object. If you
say that the farmer feeds the community, and produces all the
raw materials which the other classes work upon ; we answer,
that unless those other classes worked upon the raw materials,
and supplied the farmer's necessities, he would be forced to
allot part of his labour to this employment, while he forced
others to assist in raising the rude produce. In such a com-
plicated system, it is clear that all labour has the same effect,
and equally increases the whole mass of wealth. Nor can
any attempt be more vain than theirs who would define the
particular parts of the machine that produce the motion,
which is necessarily the result of the whole powers combined,
and depends on each one of the mutually connected members.
Yet so wedded have those theorists been to the notion, that
certain necessary kinds of employment are absolutely unpro-
ductive, that a writer of no less name than Dr. Smith has

P 2

212 ADAM SMITH.

not scrupled to rank the capital sunk in the public debt, or
spent in warfare, in the same class with the property con-
sumed by fire, and the labour destroyed by pestilence. He
ought surely to have reflected, that the debts of a country are
always contracted, and its wars entered into, for some purpose
either of security or aggrandizement ; and that stock thus
employed must have produced an equivalent, which cannot
be asserted of property or population absolutely destroyed.
This equivalent may have been greater or less ; that is, the
money spent for useful purposes may have been applied with
more or less prudence and frugality. Those purposes, too,
may have been more or less useful ; and a certain degree of
waste and extravagance always attends the operations of fund-
ing and of war. But this must only be looked upon as an
addition to the necessary price at which the benefits in view
are to be bought. The food of a country, in like manner, may
be used with different degrees of economy ; and the necessity
of eating may be supplied at more or less cost. So long as
the love of war is a necessary evil in human nature, it is
absurd to denominate the expenses unproductive that are in-
curred by defending a country ; or, which is the same thing,
preventing an invasion, by a judicious attack of an enemy ;
or, which is also the same thing, avoiding the necessity of war
by a prudent system of foreign policy. And he who holds
the labour of soldiers and sailors and diplomatic agents to be
unproductive, commits precisely the same error as he who
should maintain that the labour of the hedger is unproductive,
because he only protects, and does not rear the crop. All
those kinds of labour and employments of stock, are parts
of the system, and all are equally productive of wealth.*

* See Book II. chap. III. '"Wealth of Nations.' (Vol. II., page 25, 8vo.
edition.) The terms productive and unproductive are, in the argument of
some of the Economists, and in parts of Dr. Smith's reasonings, so qualified,
as to render the question a dispute about words, or at most about arrange-
ment. But this is not the case with many branches of both those theories,
and especially with the position examined in the text. The author actually
remarks how much richer England would now be, had she not waged such
and such wars. So might we estimate how many more coats we should
have, had we always gone naked. The remarks here stated, may with
equal justice be applied to a circumstance in the Theory of the Balance of

ADAM SMITH. 213

II. CAPITAL.

By capital, when used generally, we understand the whole
of the material world which man can appropriate, as well as
those talents, natural or acquired, which are the springs of his
exertions. In this sense of the word, it signifies all property
material and mental, or every thing valuable to man. Among
other things, it clearly comprehends land. But sometimes
we speak of capital, in opposition to land ; and, in this case,
it comprehends every thing valuable, except the ground ; for
it certainly includes all the parts and productions of the soil
which are severed from it. In this sense, the division nearly
resembles the legal distribution of property into real and per-
sonal. Both these definitions of capital are used repeatedly,
and with equal frequency, by every writer on political
economy.

If capital is contradistinguished from land, the separation
is made by a most indefinite and obscure boundary. Canals,
roads and bridges, are as much a part of capital, as any por-
table machines, fashioned out of the produce or parts of
the soil. The same may be said of fences, drains, footways,
and in general of all the ostensible monuments of labour in
an improved farm. But is not the soil itself, also, referable
to the very same class, after it has been worked up with
manure and composts, so as to be highly fertilized ? Is not
the whole surface of an improved farm, therefore, to be con-
sidered as capital, rather than as land ? And when a person
buys a hundred acres of improved land, how can he say what
part of the price is paid for land, and what part for capital ?
We speak indeed of capital vested in land, and use the phrase,

Trade. In stating the proportion of exports to imports, it has justly been
observed, that no notice can ever be taken, in Custom-house accounts, of
money remitted for subsidies, or for the payment of our troops and fleets
abroad. But it has very inaccurately been added, that these sums are so
much actually sent out of the country without an equivalent. In fact, the
equivalent is great and obvious, although of a nature which cannot be stated
in figures among the imports. The equivalent is all the success gained by
our foreign warfare and foreign policy— the aggrandizement and security of
the State, and the power of carrying on that commerce, without which there
would be neither exports nor imports to calculate and compare.

214 ADAM SMITH.

until we actually think there is such a thing as adding the
capital to land ; whereas the whole meaning of the expression
is, that capital of one kind or other is given in exchange for
land, or that our property has become land, instead of some
other valuable commodity — or, according to what has just
now been denned, that one kind of capital has been ex-
changed for another. If it is said, that capital is that in which
labour has been fixed and realized, either by accumulation or
by change of form ; then, it is very obvious, that land, in the
most extensive sense of the word, must become capital in
order to be useful ; and that many things, usually reckoned
capital, as the wild produce which is raised by nature without
human assistance, belongs to the class of land, and not to that
of stock. But a difference is established by some, especially
by Dr. Smith, between capital and the other parts of stock ;
capital being, according to them, that part which brings in a
revenue. This idea clearly appears, by the whole of the illus-
trations given of it, to have arisen from the fundamental
error of considering nothing as productive which does not
yield a tangible return, and of confounding use with exchange.
For, may not a man live upon his stock, that is, enjoy his ca-
pital, without either diminishing or exchanging any part of it?
In what does the value, and the real nature of stock reserved
for immediate consumption, differ from stock that yields what
Dr. Smith calls a revenue or profit ? Merely in this — that
the former is wanted and used itself by the owner; the latter
is not wanted by him, and therefore is exchanged for some-
thing which he does want. There is surely no other meaning
in the idea of profit or revenue, but this : and as the profit of
that part of stock which is exchanged, and which the ad-
herents of this opinion denominate capital, consists merely in
the use of those things obtained in return — so, the profit of
the other part of stock, the portion reserved for consump-
tion, is the use to which it is immediately subservient. Ac-
cording to Dr. Smith, there is some difference between
revenue and enjoyment ; and that part of a man's property
yields him no profit, which is most useful and necessary to
him, by which he can support and enjoy life without the
necessity of any operation of barter.

ADAM SMITH. 215

Labour, on the other hand, is so far different in the mode
of its subserviency to our enjoyments, that it can in no
way be ranked in the same class, either with capital or with
land. Labour is applicable to both land and capital. It is
the means of rendering them useful, or of increasing their
utility. It is truly the origin and source of wealth ; but is,
in no sense of the word, wealth itself — unless, indeed, we
conceive the pleasure of some kinds of exertion to be a use
of labour analogous to the enjoyment of riches. Wealth
may be said to be every thing from which man immediately
derives the supply of his wants and desires. Its component
parts are as various as those wants and desires, though it is,
no doubt, susceptible of various general divisions, liable to
no just exceptions in point of accuracy. Thus, it may be
ranged in the two classes of matter and mind, or property
and talents ; and property may be divided into animate and
inanimate, or the lifeless and the living, things over which
man has dominion. By a combination of those component
parts of wealth — by the operation of talents on property,
and by a combination of the component parts of property —
by the operation of living powers upon inert matter, man is
enabled to increase the whole of his possessions, and to aug-
ment the sum of his enjoyments. In by far the greater
number of instances, some exertion of labour is necessary
to profit by his possessions ; but this is not universally the
case, unless we go so far as to term that exertion labour,
\vhich consists in the very act of enjoyment, or of use ; for
it would scarcely be correct, to consider the eating of wild
fruits on the tree as the labour paid for the acquisition of
them ; it is rather the enjoyment of them — and has nothing
in it analogous to the previous exertion required to procure
similar fruits by culture, and which must be followed by the
same exertion in using them.

III.

I have now before me a number of Dr. Smith's Letters,
written when at Oxford, between the years 1740 and 1746,
to his mother : they are almost all upon mere family and

216 ADAM SMITH.

personal matters ; most of them indeed upon his linen and
other such necessaries, but all show his strong affection for
his parent. Writing 2nd July, 1 744, he says : —

" I am quite inexcusable for not writing to you oftener.
I think of you every day, but always defer writing till the
post is just going, and then sometimes business or company,
but oftener laziness, hinders me. Tar water is a remedy
very much in vogue here at present for almost all diseases.
It has perfectly cured me of an inveterate scurvy and shaking
in the head. I wish you'd try it. I fancy it might be of
service to you." In another letter he says he had had the
scurvy and shaking as long as he remembered anything, and
that the tar water had not removed those complaints.

29th November, 1743. — "I am just recovered of a violent
fit of laziness, which has confined me to my elbow-chair
these three months."

It should seem as if his habitual absence had assumed a
marked form at that time. The description resembles that
of a hypochondriacal malady. He was then only twenty
years old.

I have likewise had access to some letters which he wrote
afterwards to Lord Hailes, and, through the kindness of the
Royal Society of Edinburgh, to such of his letters as are in
the papers of David Hume.

The following letter to Lord Hailes, dated 5th March,
1769, gives the germ of some of his speculations, but it is
also curious as giving his very strong and very rash opinion
against the decision of the great Douglas Cause.

" MY LORD, Kirkaldy, March 5, 1769.

" I should now be extremely obliged to your Lordship
if you would send me the papers you mentioned upon the
prices of provisions in former times. In order that the con-
veyance may be perfectly secure, if your Lordship will give
me leave, I shall send my own servant sometime this week
to receive them at your Lordship's house at Edinburgh. I
have not been able to get the papers in the cause of Lord
Galloway and Lord Morton. If your Lordship is possessed
of them it would likewise be a great obligation if you could

ADAM SMITH. 217

send me them. I shall return both as soon as possible. If
your Lordship will give me leave I shall transcribe the
MSS. papers : this, however, entirely depends upon your
Lordship.

" Since the last time I had the honour of writing to your
Lordship, I have read over with more care than before the
Acts of James 1st, and compared them with your Lordship's
remarks. From these last I have received both much plea-
sure and much instruction. Your Lordship's remarks will, I
plainly see, be of much more use to me than I am afraid
mine will be to you. I have read law entirely with a view to
form some general notion of the great outlines of the plan
according to which justice has been administered in different
ages and nations ; and I have entered very little into the
detail of particulars of which I see your Lordship is very
much master. Your Lordship's particular facts will be of
great use to correct my general views ; but the latter I fear
will always be too vague and superficial to be of much use to
your Lordship.

" I have nothing to add to what your Lordship has ob-
served upon the Acts of James 1st. They are penned in
general in a much ruder and more inaccurate manner than
either the English statutes or French ordinances of the same
period; and Scotland seems to have been, even during this
vigorous reign, as our historians represent it, in greater dis-
order than either France or England had been from the time
of the Danish and Norwegian incursions. The 5, 24, 56,
and 85 statutes, seem all to attempt a remedy to one and the
same abuse. Travelling, from the disorders of the country,
must have been extremely dangerous, and consequently very
rare. Few people, therefore, could propose to live by enter-
taining travellers ; and consequently there would be few or
no inns. Travellers would be obliged to have recourse to the
hospitality of private families in the same manner as in all
other barbarous countries ; and being in this situation real
objects of compassion, private families would think them-
selves obliged to receive them, even though this hospitality
was extremely oppressive. Strangers, says Homer, are sacred
persons, and under the protection of Jupiter ; but no wise

218 ADAM SMITH.

man would ever choose to send for a stranger unless he was
either a bard or a soothsayer. The danger, too, of travelling
either alone or with few attendants made all men of any con-
sequence carry along with them a numerous suite of retainers,
which rendered this hospitality still more oppressive. Hence
the orders to build hostellaries in 24 and 85. And as many
people had chosen to follow the old fashion and to live rather
at the expense of other people than at their own, hence the
complaint of the keepers of the hostellaries, and the order
thereupon in Act 56.

" I cannot conclude this letter, though already too long,
Avithout expressing to your Lordship my concern, and, still
more, my indignation at what has lately passed both at
London and at Edinburgh. I have often thought that the
Supreme Court of the United Kingdom very much resembled
a jury. The law Lords generally take upon them to sum up
the evidence, and to explain the law to the other peers, who
generally follow their opinion implicitly. Of the two law
Lords who upon this occasion instructed them, the one has
always run after the applause of the mob ; the other, by far
the most intelligent, has always shewn the greatest dread of
popular odium, which, however, he has not been able to
avoid. His inclinations also have always been suspected to
favour one of the parties. He has upon this occasion, I sus-
pect, followed rather his fears and his inclinations than his
judgment. I could say a great deal more upon this subject
to your Lordship, but I am afraid I have already said too much.
I would rather, for my own part, have the solid reputation
of your most respectable President, though exposed to the
insults of a brutal mob, than all the vain and flimsy applause
that has ever yet been bestowed upon either or both the
other two. I have the honour to be, with the highest esteem
and regard,

11 My Lord,
" Your Lordship's most obliged

and obedient servant,
(Signed) "ADAM SMITH/'

ADAM SMITH. 219

Another letter, dated a week later, gives what is evidently
the beginning of his speculations on the price of silver, and
adds as to the Douglas Cause —

" If the rejoicings which I read of in the public papers in
different places on account of the Douglas Cause had no
more foundation than those which were said to have been in
this place, there has been very little joy upon the occasion.
There was here no sort of rejoicing of any kind, unless four
schoolboys having set up three candles upon the trone, by
way of an illumination, is to be considered as such."

In one of his letters to Mr. Hume, from Toulouse, he
complains much of the dull life he led from not having
brought introductions to society. " The life (he says) which
I led at Glasgow was a pleasurable dissipated life in com-
parison of that which I lead here. I have begun to write a
book in order to pass away the time: you may believe I have
very little to do." This letter is dated 5th July, 1764, and
the work was plainly the ' Wealth of Nations.3 The men-
tion of it is interesting, as being the first we have of his great
undertaking. I need hardly add, that from his habitual aver-
sion to write letters, very few remain of his compared with
the correspondence of most distinguished men. Afterwards
he lived in all the society of Toulouse. Here is another letter
of a later date on Mr. Hume's quarrel with Rousseau: —

" MY DEAR FRIEND, Paris, July 6th, 1766.

" I am thoroughly convinced that Rousseau is as great a
rascal as you and as every man here believes him to be; yet
let me beg of you not to think of publishing any thing to the
world upon the very great impertinence which he has been
guilty of to you. By refusing the pension which you had
the goodness to solicit for him with his own consent, he may
have thrown, by the baseness of his proceedings, some little
ridicule upon you in the eyes of the Court and the Ministry.
Stand this ridicule; expose his brutal letter, but without giv-
ing it out of your own hand, so that it may never be printed,
and if you can, laugh at yourself, and I shall pawn my life
that before three weeks are at an end, this little affair, which

220 ADAM SMITH.

at present gives you so much uneasiness, shall be understood
to do you as much honour as any thing that has ever hap-
pened to you. By endeavouring to unmask before the public
this hypocritical pedant, you run the risk of disturbing the
tranquillity of your whole life. By letting him alone he
cannot give you a fortnight's uneasiness. To write against
him is, you may depend upon it, the very thing he wishes
you to do. He is in danger of falling into obscurity in
England, and he hopes to make himself considerable by pro-
voking an illustrious adversary. He will have a great party,
the Church, the Whigs, the Jacobites, the whole wise Eng-
lish nation, who will love to mortify a Scotchman, and to
applaud a man that has refused a pension from the King. It
is not unlikely, too, that they may pay him very well for
having refused it, and that even he may have had in view
this compensation. Your whole friends here wish you not
to write — the Baron d'Alembert, Madame Riccoboni, Made-
moiselle Riancourt, M. Turgot, &c., &c. M. Turgot, a friend
every way worthy of you, desired me to recommend this
advice to you in a particular manner, as his most earnest
entreaty and opinion. He and I are both afraid that you are
surrounded with evil counsellors, and that the advice of your
English literati, who are themselves accustomed to publish
all their little gossiping stories in newspapers, may have too
much influence upon you. Remember me to Mr. Walpole,
and believe me to be, with the most sincere affection,

"Ever yours,

"ADAM SMITH."

" P.S. Make my apology to Miller for not having yet
answered his last very kind letter. I am preparing the
answer to it, which he will certainly receive by next post.
Remember me to Mrs. Miller. Do you ever see Mr.
Townshend?"

After his return to Kirkaldy, and when engaged in his
great work he thus writes —

" MY DEAREST FRIEND, Kirkaldy, June /th, 17C7.

" The principal design of this letter is to recommend to
your particular attention the Count de Sarsfield, the best and

ADAM SMITH. 221

the most agreeable friend I had in France. Introduce him,
if you find it proper, to all the friends of your absent friend,
to Oswald and to Elliot in particular. I cannot express to
you how anxious I am that his stay in London should be
rendered agreeable to him. You know him, and must know
what a plain, worthy, honourable man he is. I have enclosed
a letter for him, which you may either send to him, or rather,
if the weighty affairs of state will permit it, deliver it to him
yourself. The letter to Dr. Morton you may send by the
penny post.

" My business here is study, in which I have been very
deeply engaged for about a month past. My amusements
are long solitary walks by the sea side. You may judge how
I spend my time. I feel myself, however, extremely happy,
comfortable, and contented. I never was perhaps more so in
all my life. You will give me great comfort by writing to
me now and then, and by letting me know what is passing
among my friends at London. Remember me to them all,
particularly to Mr. Adams's family and to Mrs. Montague.

"What has become of Rousseau? Has he gone abroad,
because he cannot contrive to get himself sufficiently perse-
cuted in Great Britain?

" What is the meaning of the bargain that your Ministry
have made with the India Company? They have not I see
prolonged their Charter, which is a good circumstance. What
are you going to do/'*

Thinking it probable that the Dalkeith repositories might
contain some letters, the present Duke of Buccleugh was
kind enough, at my request, to make search, but none were
found.

I have much satisfaction in adding the following letter,
because it gives Dr. Smith's first impressions, which in this
case proved most just ones, of a person whose virtues and
amiable qualities were the theme of universal respect and
esteem during her whole life, the late Duchess of Buccleugh,
grandmother of the present Duke.

* Remainder of the letter obliterated.

222 ADAM SMITH.

" MY DEAR FRIEND, Dalkeith House, September 18, 1767-

" Be so good as to convey the enclosed letter to the
Count de Sarsfield ; I have been much in the wrong for
having delayed so long to write both to him and you.

" There is a very amiable, modest, brave, worthy young
gentleman, who lives in the same house with you ; his name
is David Skeene. He and I are sisters' sons, but my regard
for him is much more founded upon his personal qualities
than upon the relation in which he stands to me. He acted
lately in a very gallant manner in America, of which he never
acquainted me himself, and of which I came to the know-
ledge only within these few days. If you can be of any
service to him, you could not possibly do a more obliging
thing to me. The Duke and Duchess of Buccleugh have
been here now for almost a fortnight; they begin to open their
house on Monday next, and I flatter myself will both be very
agreeable to the people of this country. I am not sure that
I have ever seen a more agreeable woman than the Duchess.
I am sorry that you are not here, because I am sure you
would be perfectly in love with her. I shall probably be
here some weeks ; I would wish, however, that both you and
the Count de Sarsfield would direct for me as usual at
Kirkaldy. I should be glad to know the true history of
Rousseau before and since he left England. You may per-
fectly depend upon my never quoting you to any living soul
upon that subject.

" I ever am, dear Sir,

" Most faithfully yours,

"ADAM SMITH."

The following letter relates to his unhappy determination
of having all his papers destroyed.

" MY DEAR FRIEND, Edinburgh, April 16th, 1773.

" As I have left the care of all my literary papers to
you, I must tell you that, except those which I carry along
with me, there are none worth the publishing but a fragment
of a great work, which contains a history of the Astronomical
Systems that were successively in fashion down to the time
of Des Cartes. Whether that might not be published as a

ADAM SMITH. 223

fragment of an intended juvenile work I leave entirely to
your judgment, though I begin to suspect myself, that there
is more refinement than solidity in some parts of it. This
little work you will find in a thin folio paper book, in my
writing-desk in my book-room : all the other loose papers,
which you will find either in that desk or within the glass
folding doors of a bureau, which stands in my bed-room,
together with about eighteen thin paper folio books, which
you will likewise find within the same glass folding doors, I
desire may be destroyed without any examination. Unless I
die very suddenly, I shall take care that the papers I carry
with me shall be carefully sent to you."

" I ever am, my dear friend,

" Most faithfully yours,

"ADAM SMITH."
" To DAVID HUME, Esq.,

of St. Andrew's Square, Edinburgh."

" MY DEAREST FRIEND, Kirkaldy, August 22nd, 177G.

"I have this moment received your letter of the 15th
instant. You had, in order to save me the sum of one penny
sterling, sent it by the carrier instead of the post ; and (if
you have not mistaken the date) it has lain at his quarters
these eight days, and was, I presume, very likely to lie there
for ever.

"I shall be very happy to receive a copy of your Dialogues;
and, if I should happen to die before they are published, I
shall take care that my copy shall be as carefully preserved as
if I was to live a hundred years. With regard to leaving me
the property in case they are not published within five years
after your decease, you may do as you think proper. I think,
however, you should not menace Strahan with the loss of any
thing in case he does not publish your Work within a certain
time.* There is no probability of his delaying it, and if any
thing could make him delay it, it would be a clause of this
kind ; which would give him an honourable pretence for doing

* This refers to the passage of Mr. Hume's will, imposing a penalty in
case of not printing one of his posthumous works. See ' Life of Hume,'
vol. i.

224 ADAM SMITH.

so. It would then be said that I had published, for the s"ake
of an Establishment, not from respect to the memory of my
friend, what even a Printer for the sake of the same emolu-
ment had not published. That Strahan is sufficiently zealous
you will see by the enclosed letter, which I will beg the favour
of you to return to me, but by the post and not by the carrier.
If you will give me leave I will add a few lines to your ac-
count of your own Life ; giving some account in my own
name, of your behaviour in this illness, if, contrary to my own
hopes, it should prove your last. Some conversations we had
lately together, particularly that concerning your want of an
excuse to make to Charon, the excuse you at last thought of,
and the very bad reception which Charon was likely to give
it, would, I imagine, make no disagreeable part of the history.
You have in a declining state of health, under an exhausting
disease, for more than two years together, now looked at the
approach, or what you at least believed to be the approach of
Death with a steady cheerfulness such as very few men have
been able to maintain for a few hours, though otherwise in
the most perfect health. J shall likewise, if you will give me
leave, correct the sheets of the new edition of your Works,
and shall take care that it shall be published exactly according
to your late corrections. As I shall be at London this winter
it will cost me very little trouble. All this I have written
upon the supposition that the event of your disease should
prove different from what I still hope it may do. For your
spirits are so good, the spirit of life is still so very strong in you,
and the progress of your disorder is so slow and gradual, that
I still hope it may take a turn. Even the cool and steady Dr.
Black, by a letter I received from him last week, seems not
to be averse to the same hopes.

" I hope I need not repeat to you, that I am ready to wait
on you whenever you wish to see me. Whenever you do so,
I hope you will not scruple to call on me. I beg to be re-
membered in the kindest and most respectful manner to your
Brother, your Sister, your Nephew, and all other Friends.

" I ever am,

" My dearest friend,

" Most affectionately yours,

" ADAM SMITH."

ADAM SMITH. 225

To JOHN HOME, OF NINEWELLS.

" DEAR SIR, " Dalkeith House, August 31st, 1776.

" As the Duke proposes to stay here till Thursday
next, I may not have an opportunity of seeing you before
you return to Ninewells ; I, therefore, take this opportunity
of discharging you, and all others concerned, of the legacy
which you was so good as to think might, upon a certain
event, become due to me by your brother's will, but which, I
think, would upon no event become so, viz., the legacy of
two hundred pounds sterling. I hereby therefore discharge
it for ever ; and least this discharge should be lost, I shall be
careful to mention it in a note at the bottom of my will. I
shall be glad to hear that you have received this letter, and
hope you will believe me to be, both on your brother's
account and your own, with great truth, most affectionately,

" Yours,

"ADAM SMITH.

" P. S. — I do not hereby mean to discharge the other
legacy, viz., that of a copy of his works."

"DEAR SlR, "Edinburgh, September 2nd, 1776.

" I was favoured with your's of Saturday, and I
assure you that, on perusing the destinations, I was more of
opinion than when I saw you, that the pecuniary part of it
was not altered by the codicil, and that it was intended for
you at all events ; that my brother knowing your liberal way
of thinking, laid on you something as an equivalent, not
imagining you would refuse a small gratuity from the funds
it was to come from, as a testimony of his friendship; and
though I must highly esteem the motives and manner, I can-
not agree to accept of your renunciation, but leave you full
master to dispose of it which way is most agreeable to you.

" The copys of the Dialogues are finished and of the Life,
and will be sent to Mr. Strahan to-morrow ; and I will men-
tion to him your intention of adding to the last something
to finish so valuable a life, and will leave you at Liberty to
look into the correction of the first, as it either answers your

Q

226 ADAM SMITH.

leisure or ideas with regard to the composition, or what
effects you think it may have with regard to yourself. The
two copys intended for you will be left with my sister, when
you please to require them ; and the copy of the new edition
of his works you shall be sure to receive, though you have
no better title to that part than the other, though much you
have to the friendship and esteem of, Dear Sir, him who is
most sincerely,

" Yours,

"JOHN HOME."

.

AND
>„ /

( 227 )

"'LAVOISIER.

IN the Lives of Black, Priestley, Watt, and Cavendish,
it has been necessary to mention the claims of Lavoisier,
first as a competitor with the great philosophers of the
age for the honour of their discoveries, yet as an in-
truder among them by his attempts to shew that he had
himself, though unknown to them and ignorant of their
inquiries, made the same steps nearly at the same time,
The history of that great man, which we are now to
consider, will enable us to perceive clearly the evidence
upon which the charge rests, both the proof of his having
preferred those claims, and the proof that they were
groundless. But it will also enable us to perceive how
vast his real merits were, and how much remained his
own of the discoveries which have built up the science
of modern chemistry, even after all those plumes have
been stript away that belonged to others.

It is a very great error to suppose that the truths of
philosophy are alone important to be learnt by its stu-
dents; that provided these truths are taught, it signifies
little when or by whom or by what steps they were dis-
covered. The history of science, of the stages by which
its advances have been made, of the relative merits by

Q.2

228 LAVOISIER.

which each of our teachers was successively made famous,
is of an importance far beyond its being subservient to
the gratification even of an enlightened and learned
curiosity. It is eminently calculated to further the
progress which it records ; it conveys peculiarly clear and
discriminating ideas upon the doctrines taught, and the
proofs they rest on ; it suggests new inquiries, and en-
courages the prosecuting of new researches. It is, more-
over, both a debt of gratitude to our benefactors which
we should be anxious to pay by testifying our gratitude,
and commemorating their fame; and the discharge of
this duty has a direct tendency to excite emulation,
prompting to further labours that may enlarge the bounds
of science. Besides, the history of scientific achievements
is the history of the human mind in its noblest exertions,
of the human race in its most exalted pursuits. But it
is equally clear that the whole value of this, as of every
other branch of history, depends upon the diligence with
which the facts are examined, the care and even the skill
with which their evidence is sifted, the impartiality with
which judgment is pronounced, and the accuracy with
which the record is finally made up. The mere pane-
gyric of eminent men, how elegantly soever it may be
composed, must remain wholly worthless, at the best,
and is capable of being mischievous, if it aims at praise
without due discrimination, still more if it awards to one
man the eulogy which belongs to another. Nothing can
be more indispensable to the execution of the important
task undertaken by the historian of science, than that he
should most carefully examine the share which each of
its cultivators had in the successive changes it has under-
gone. The greatest of these have ever felt how valuable

LAVOISIEK. 229

such titles are, and have shewn the most singular anxiety
to compare and to adjust their relative claims. Of these
illustrious men I have known two, Black and Watt, and
I can safely say that when the question was raised of
priority in discovery among either their predecessors or
their cotemporaries, they were wont to be particular and
minute, even to what seemed superfluous carefulness, in
assigning to each his just share, very far more anxious in
making this distribution than they ever shewed them-
selves to secure the admission of their titles in their
own case. By a singular injustice of fortune these two
philosophers have been treated themselves with a more
scanty measure of the like justice than perhaps any
of their cotemporary discoverers.""" It is proposed to
examine with the same minuteness the particulars in
M. Lavoisier's history, upon which some controversy has
at different times arisen.

Antoine Laurent Lavoisier was born at Paris, 13th of
August, 1743, the son of an opulent family, his father
having been a fermier-general. No expense was spared
upon his education ; and in the college of Mazarin, where
he studied, he gained many prizes for proficiency in clas-
sical acquirements. It was, however, to the sciences that
he soon devoted himself, and first to the severer ones,
having made considerable proficiency in the mathematics
and astronomy under La Caille, in whose observatory he
studied upon leaving the college. He studied botany
under Jussieu, and chemistry under Rouelle. As from

* When any reference is made to the Eloges of the French Aca-
demy, justice requires me to add that those of M. Arago form a most
striking exception. They are strictly historical; as well as philoso-
phical. That of Watt is a model.

230 LAVOISIER.

his earliest years he appears to have been wholly conse-
crated to scientific pursuits, so no one ever entered upon
his course with a more fervid courage. The earliest of
his inquiries of which we have any knowledge was an
analysis of gypsum, presented to the Academy of Sciences
in 1765, and published in the collection of ' Memoires de
divers Savans,' 1768. In 1764 a prize had been pro-
posed by M. de Sartine, the celebrated chief of the police
of Paris, for the best method of lighting a great town, so
as to combine illumination with economy, and with
facility of service. After the lapse of twelve months no
dissertation had been presented which satisfied the con-
ditions of the programme, and the prize was doubled,
being raised to 2000 livres; and next year, 1766, the
conditions remaining still unsatisfied by the candidates,
the prize was divided among the three best, while a
Memoir of great merit, by M. Lavoisier, was honourably
mentioned and ordered to be printed. The King, too,
on M. de Sartine's recommendation, directed a gold medal
to be bestowed upon the author, who was presented with
it at the public sitting of the Academy in April, 1766.
In 1769 he obtained the place of a fermier-general, by a
kind of hereditary title; and in 1771 he married Marie-
Anne Paulze, whose father likewise belonged to the same
financial class. In 1768 he had been admitted a
member of the Academy, at the early age of twenty-
five. His paper on the lapis specularis, related to the
composition of the great strata forming the basin of
Paris.

He appears for some years to have occupied himself
principally with geological inquiries; he made niinera-
logical journeys in various parts of France in company

LAVOISIER. 231

with M. Guettard; and he had collected materials for an
extensive work on the revolutions of the globe, when the
recent progress of another science gave a new direction
to his pursuits. His paper on gypsum contains a num-
ber of experiments, which shew it to be a neutral salt,
soluble in a great proportion of water, and composed of
sulphuric acid united to a calcareous base. This and
almost every other part of his paper was well known
before. M. Montigny had, in the ' Memoirs of the Aca-
demy/ 1762, shewn its solubility, and M. Margraaff, in
the 'Berlin Memoirs/ as far back as 1750, had proved
both this and its composition. M. Lavoisier refers to
these long-published works in a note appended to his
paper, but states that he had not seen MargraafFs till
after his own was read before the Academy. He also
states that M. Baume had published researches similar to
his in a journal, but that he was not aware of this till he
had made considerable progress with his paper. It is
unfortunate that this eminent person should have begun
his works with this kind of doubt hanging over his ori-
ginality. Yet we may observe that his paper contains an
ingenious theory, explaining the phenomenon of the for-
mation of gypsum on the principles of ordinary crystal-
lization; and that he has also ascertained the proportion
of water required for its solution more accurately than
had before been done ; that he gave a systematic view of
the whole subject. Quatis ab incept o processerat — It is
remarkable that all the distinguishing characters of his
inquiries in after-times should be found to mark this
his first production. We observe the same disputed
originality in his experiments, the same anticipation of
his discoveries by former inquirers, the same superiority

232 LAVOISIER.

of his processes in point of accurate admeasurement,
the same inferiority of his experiments to his reasons,
the same happy generalization of facts observed by
others, the same turn for throwing doctrines and disco-
veries not his own into one combined system.

The discoveries of Black had, long before M. Lavoisier
entered upon his scientific pursuits, directed the attention
of philosophers to the important subject of gaseous bodies,
to their production by the absorption of heat, and to the
combinations into which they enter with other substances,
so as to alter the nature of these. The great doctrines
of causticity and of latent heat, with the existence of fixed
air, and its evolution in respiration, fermentation, and
combustion, had been established, and had formed a new
era in chemical science. Fixed air was discovered in
1754; latent heat before 1763. Mr. Cavendish had pro-
secuted these inquiries with success; he had examined
some of the properties both of fixed air and of hydrogen ;
had determined their specific gravities, and had shewn
that they are always the same from whatever substances
they may be obtained. His experiments were published in
1766. Soon after this time Dr. Priestley began his brilliant
course of discovery. A new scene had been opened to
philosophers ; they were like infants gazing on the material
world, every object of which is new to them, and whose
whole existence is one continued gratification of curiosity.
Aware from former discoveries that various kinds of air,
each having its peculiar properties, exist in nature, he
was of course ever expecting to meet with them; and,
accordingly, he soon found that the air of the atmosphere
yields one of these, which on a false theory he termed
phlogisticated, but M'hich others have termed azote, being

LAVOISIER. 233

incapable of supporting either animal life or flame.
These experiments of his were published in 1772.

Before proceeding further with the history of chemical
discovery, it is necessary I should mention a serious in-
convenience thrown in the way of the accurate inquirer
by the very extraordinary manner in which the ' Memoirs
of the French Academy' have always been published.
The ' Philosophical Transactions' appear most carefully
in two, sometimes, though very rarely, in three parts
every year, and all the papers published each year have
been read before the Society during the course of that
year; nay, all the papers which form each part have
been read during the half-year immediately preceding
the publication of that part. It is far otherwise with
the French Academy's ' Memoirs ;' these never are pub-
lished in less than three, sometimes even four years after
the year to which they nominally relate. Thus the
volume for 1772 consists of two parts, one of which was
published in 1775, and the other in 1776. But this
would occasion a small inconvenience to the inquirer
into dates and facts, if it only indicated that the work
was constantly in arrear, and that the papers purporting
to be those of any given year, as 1772, were not published
till three or four years later. That, however, is by no
means the case. It continually happens that the papers
classed as those of one year were in reality read a year
or two later. In earlier periods the dates are often not
given at which papers were read, but from internal evi-
dence we find when they were read; for in the volume
for 1772, p. 12, we have M. Lavoisier quoting a book
published in January, 1773, and describing an experi-
ment made in August of that year, (p. 5.98). So in the

234 LAVOISIER.

volume for 1770, we have an account of an eclipse in
April, 1771, and of experiments made in autumn, 1771,
(p. 621). In later volumes the dates are more accurately
given, though sometimes they tend to bewilder us. Thus
the volume for 1776 was not published till 1778, and it
contains a paper of M. Lavoisier, printed in Sept. 1778,
and read 23rd Nov., 1779. So the volume for 1776
contains another paper of his, stated to have been printed
in Dec., 1777. In like manner the volume for 1774 was
published in 1778, and it contains a paper read 1774,
but reld 1777. And the volume for 1775 has a paper
read Easter, 1775, reld Aug., 1778. It is needless to
remark how very difficult this kind of confusion and in-
accuracy, wholly unaccountable, renders it to ascertain
the precise date at which any experiment was made, or
theory formed. We are in most cases left to mere con-
jecture, being uncertain of anything but the time of
publication, and not always sure of that.

In the year 1768 M. Lavoisier began to occupy him-
self almost exclusively with chemical inquiries. Well
educated in the kindred branches of natural philosophy,
and fully conversant with all that was then known of
chemistry, ardent in the pursuit of scientific truth, filled
with a noble ambition to distinguish himself among its
students, careless of the various pursuits which men in
his circumstances find all-engrossing, he was also in
possession of ample wealth, and could both command
the aid of some and obtain the fellowship of others in
his researches, while the most costly apparatus, and the
most expensive experiments, were at all times within his
reach. He soon filled his house with the finest instru-
ments, and opened it freely to all men of letters and of

LAVOISIER. 235

science. In their company, and with the inestimable
advantage of their constant society, in which every point
was discussed and all difficulties encountered by their
lights as well as 'his own, he devoted the rest of his
praiseworthy life to his favourite science, repeating the
experiments of others, varying them with the suggestions
of his own mind, and, in some instances, devising new
ones which he successfully conducted. We are now to
consider the fruits of these glorious labors.

In 1768 and 1769 he made a number of very
laborious and very accurate experiments, with the view
of ascertaining the correctness of an opinion long enter-
tained, and among others by Bonde and Margraaff, that
water may, by repeated distillations, be converted into
earth; and also of determining whether or not there was
any foundation for the opinion that water can, by
repeated distillations, become so elastic and aeriform as
to escape through the pores of vessels : an opinion enter-
tained by Stahl, the celebrated author of the phlogistic
theory. M. Lavoisier satisfactorily disproved both these
positions, and shewed that the earth which had misled
others was a portion of the vessels : used in performing
the distillation. The account of these experiments was
given to the Academy in 1770, and published in 1773.
It may give us some idea of the pains with which these
experiments were performed, to state that one of them
lasted a hundred and one days.

In the year after these inquiries were carried on,
his attention appears to have been turned aside from
chemical studies, by the reports which he made to the
Academy upon the means of supplying Paris with water,,
at an economical rate. A question having arisen between

236 LAVOISIEK.

the Government and M. Parcieux, a learned mechanical
projector, on the comparative expense of bringing the
water of the rivulet Yvette by canal and wheel engines,
or by steam engine, M. Lavoisier examined the subject,
and shewed that the latter mode was the most expensive.
His Memoir appeared in the volume for 1771. In that
year, however, he resumed his chemical pursuits, and
applied himself to the attentive consideration of the
calcination of metals. The recent discoveries on the
nature of gases by Black, Cavendish, and Priestley, ap-
pear to have chiefly contributed to his doubts upon the
foundation of Stahl's theory, which considers the union
of phlogiston, or the matter of heat and light, with the
basis of the metals, as the cause of their lustre and duc-
tility, and the evolution of that substance as the cause
of their becoming earthy, or calces. M. Lavoisier ex-
amined the process by which minium, or red lead, is
reduced, that is, resumes its metallic state, and he found
that there was always evolved a great quantity of air,
which he examined and found to be fixed air, being, he
expressly says, the same that escapes in the effervescence
of alkalis and calcareous earth, and in the fermentation
of liquors. He then examined the converse operation of
calcination, and found it accompanied with an absorption
of air, and that the weight of the metal had increased by
the whole weight of the air absorbed. The inference
which he drew was, that calcination is caused by the
union of air with the metal, and not by the loss of any
body, as phlogiston, combined with it. These experi-
ments and this theory he published at the end of the
year 1773, in a small volume entitled 'Opuscules Physi-
ques,' which describes very fully the previous discoveries

LAVOISIER. 237

on gases and on heat, and contains many ingenious dis-
cussions on the processes of calcination and combustion.
He had in the course of that year read several Memoirs,
on the subject of his own experiments, to the Academy,
and had shewn these experiments to several of its
members. Nothing, therefore, can be more incontestable
than his claim to the important step now made the
cause of so many others, that the calcination of metals
is their uniting with a gas become fixed and solid in
their substance; and a mortal blow was thus given to
the theory of Stahl."* But it must be added that he
was wholly ignorant of the nature of the air absorbed.
He seems to have been deceived by the quantity of fixed
air which minium contains, and to have hastily supposed
this air to be the cause of calcination, without examining
the air in which he performed the more useful and con-
verse experiment.

It is singular how very near M. Lavoisier came in
these inquiries to two discoveries of first-rate importance.
He could not have examined with any care the residue
of the air in which his calcinations were performed,
without discovering the composition of the atmosphere;
nor could he have examined the air given out in the
reduction of calces to their reguline, or metallic state
without discovering oxygen. It was reserved for Dr.
Priestley, two years later, to make both these capital
discoveries.

A similar remark arises upon the next inquiry of any

* It is truly painful to find the determination of French writers
never to take the trouble of giving the names of foreigners with
any accuracy. Lavoisier always calls Stahl either Stalh or Sthal,
and never once gives his right name.

238 LAVOISIER.

importance in which M. Lavoisier was engaged. For we
may pass over his experiments on the use of alcohol in
the analysis of mineral waters, as he admits that the
subject was familiar to chemists, having been treated at
length by Macquer. It may, however, be observed in
passing, that he claims as a discovery the proposition
that alcohol attacks salts differently when mixed with
different proportions of water; and also, that nothing
can be more crude than his notions of the connexions
between the salts and the mineral kingdom — for a large
portion of his Memoir is devoted to prove that there
can only be three mineral alkalis, soda, calcareous earth,
and what he calls the base of Epsom salts, which is
magnesia, and two mineral acids, the vitriolic and muri-
atic— propositions as wide of the truth as possible, and,
apparently, chiefly recommended to him by their shew-
ing that the experiments with alcohol, which he had made
with those substances, exhausted the subject of mineral
waters.

But the next important inquiry of this eminent
chemist related to the action of heat on the diamond,
or, as he very inaccurately termed it, the destruction of
the diamond by fire. These experiments were performed
with great care, and without any regard to expense;
to which purpose a public-spirited jeweller also contri-
buted largely. They were performed partly by fire, partly
by the great lens of Tschirnausen belonging to the Aca-
demy. The Memoir is in the volume for 1772, Part II.,
published in 1776; but the experiments were not all
performed till late in 1773, and the Memoir was probably
read in 1774. It was found that some carbonaceous
effervescence (as he describes it) could be observed when

LAVOISIER. 239

the heat applied was not very strong, though a stronger
heat dissipated the diamond altogether if exposed to the
air. Hence M. Lavoisier inferred, that beside being a
combustible substance, as Newton had sagaciously ima-
gined from its optical qualities, and as Macquer had
proved by direct experiment, it is capable of conversion
into charcoal. But a more important fact was also ascer-
tained. M. Lavoisier examined the air in which the
evaporation, as he terms it, of the diamond was per-
formed, and he found that it precipitated lime from lime
water. Examining the lime thus thrown down he found
it to be chalk, and thence concluded most justly that the
air produced during the combustion of the diamond was
fixed air. This, however, is not his enunciation of the
proposition; he only says, that the air in which the
diamond had been evaporated had acquired in part the
properties of fixed air, or the air which, he correctly
says, comes from the effervescence of alkalis and from
fermentation, and which, he very erroneously says, (fol-
lowing the mistake into which he had fallen in his expe-
riments on calcination) is the air given out by metallic
calces on their reduction to the reguline state. He rests
in doubt between the two inferences from his experi-
ments— the one, that the diamond evaporates into fixed
air; the other, that its vapour changes atmospheric into
fixed air.

Observing the analogy between the diamond and com-
bustible bodies, he exposed it to heat when surrounded
with fixed air, and atmospheric air was excluded. The
evaporation went on, but much more difficultly and slowly.
The probability is that the air was not entirely fixed air,
else the diamond could not have evaporated at all.

240 LAVOISIER,

The production of fixed air by burning charcoal, alcohol,
ether, in close vessels had been long known; but M.
Lavoisier carefully subjected charcoal to the same process
which he had made the diamond undergo, and the result
was nearly the same.

The conclusion at which he arrived from these experi-
ments, is marked by a caution truly philosophic, and as
well deserving our admiration, as the sagacity which
distinguished the conduct of the inquiry. " We should
never have expected," he says, "to find any relation
between charcoal and diamond, and it would be unreason-
able to push this analogy too far; it only exists because
both substances seem to be properly ranged in the class
of combustible bodies, and because they are of all these
bodies the most fixed when kept from the contact of air."
He adds, "It is far from being impossible that the
blackish matter should come from surrounding bodies,
and not from the diamond itself."

It is needless to remark how very near he was, in
this inquiry, to making the discovery that diamond and
the pure carbonaceous matter are identical, and that both
form alike fixed air by their union with another and a
gaseous substance. Dr. Black had shown, nearly twenty
years before, that fixed air was the product of the com-
bustion of charcoal. Had M. Lavoisier performed his
experiments on that combustion with a little more care,
he would have made the discovery in 1773, which he did
a few years later; and as he then was occupied in con-
sidering the nature of the diamond, its identity with
carbon would not have escaped him as it afterwards did
when he first ascertained the composition of fixed air.
In 1773, M. Lavoisier made some very accurate expe-

LAVOISIER. 241

riments upon the calcination of air in close vessels ; and
he proved clearly that the whole air and metal after
calcination weighed exactly the same as before, and that
the metal had gained in weight exactly what the air had
lost. But he adds an inference which is very remarkable
on more accounts than one. It is that the atmo-
sphere is composed of two gases, one capable of support-
ing life and flame, and of combining with metals in then-
calcination, the other incapable of supporting either life
or flame, or of combining with metals. Now here begins
the blame imputable to this great philosopher. His
paper is said in his Memoir (p. 351,) to have been read
at Martinmas, 1774; and to have been "remis" 10
May, 1777; he says, p. 366, that he had received a
letter from P. Beccaria, dated 12 Nov. 1774, but that his
own Memoir was then drawn up, and that an " Extract "
of it had been read at the public sitting in November.
He does not state whether or not the important doctrine
above-mentioned, on the constituent parts of the atmo-
sphere, was contained in that extract ; nor how long before
10 May, 1777, it was added to the paper. Moreover,
he says nothing whatever of the communication made to
him by Dr. Priestley, in October, 1774, of his grand dis-
covery of oxygen. Nor does he mention that the same
philosopher had, in 1772, discovered the existence of
azote in the atmosphere, and received, from our Royal
Society, the Copley medal the following year, on account
of his paper printed in the ' Philosophical Transactions
for 1772.' It is wholly impossible to believe that the
experiments on tin could have given M. Lavoisier any
light on the constitution of the atmosphere, which he had
not derived from his similar experiments in 1770, and

E

242 LAVOISIER.

1771, upon the reduction of minium, and the calcination
of other metals. But the discoveries of Dr. Priestley must
have been known to him in 1774; and what he gives as
conjectures derived from his own experiments, were the
discoveries of Dr. Priestley in 1772 and 1774. The
knowledge of these discoveries formed the only difference
between the state of M. Lavoisier's information, when he
experimented upon tin in 1774, and when he experi-
mented on lead three years before. It is perfectly clear that
until the discoveries of Dr. Priestley, the chief of which,
we have positive evidence, was communicated to him by
the Doctor himself, he never had the least idea of the air
absorbed in calcination possessing any qualities like
those of oxygen gas, or that the air evolved in the reduc-
tion of calcined metals, was of that nature ; indeed, he
distinctly stated it to be fixed air, misled by the quantity
of fixed air found in minium as an impurity. He had
made many experiments on calces of metals, and he had
never found any air to be contained in them resembling
oxygen. Until he heard of Dr. Priestley's great experi-
ment he never had thought of obtaining oxygen gas from
those bodies, nor ever knew of the existence of that gas.

This is the plain inference from the history of his
inquiries, as far as we have now followed it. But as he
has himself, beside wrapping up the date of his theory
in the general terms already observed when he presented
his paper on tin, also laid positive claim to the discovery
of oxygen in a subsequent Memoir, it becomes necessary
to examine the grounds of this pretension more closely,
and we shall find that this examination entirely confirms
the position already stated, namely, his ignorance of
oxygen, until the true discoverer made him acquainted
with it.

LAVOISIER. 243

We shall first give the words in which he couches his
claim. I quote from his ' Elemens cle Chimie.' " Get air'
(oxygen gas,) "nous avons decouvert presqu'en meme
terns, Dr. Priestley, M. Scheele et rnoi."

Now I begin this statement by observing, that as to
the precise time of Dr. Priestley's discovery there is no
doubt ; no " presqu'en meme terns ;" it was the first day
of August, 1774. Scheele, without knowing of his dis-
covery, made the same the year after, 1775. So far then
the statement of Lavoisier is incorrect; Priestley and
Scheele did not discover oxygen, " presqu'en meme terns."
But we must proceed, and shall first of all examine in
what way M. Lavoisier preferred his claim. For that
would have rested upon a foundation somewhat more
plausible had he brought it forward early, and always
adhered to the same statement. But the reverse is the
fact.

We must first observe that not a hint is dropped of
this claim in the paper upon calcination first presented
in 1774, and afterwards with additions in 1777. In
1775, at Easter, he read a paper on the nature of calci-
nation, which was "relu 8 August, 1778;" with what
additions is not stated. But the experiments which it con-
tains are of two classes; the one set he says were made
above a year before, or in spring 1774, and these throw no
new light at all on the subject ; the others were made, he
says, first in November, 1774, and more fully before other
persons, in the following spring. These experiments show
that the oxygen of the atmosphere is absorbed in calcina-
tion ; and this conclusion is stated ; but no claim whatever
is made to the discovery of oxygen gas, although if dis-
covered by him at all, it must have been in those experi-

R 2

244 LAVOISIEK.

ments. He only calls it " the most respirable portion of
the atmosphere." A most important admission is, how-
ever, made in a subsequent paper, 1782, that the experi-
ments in which he made this step, were not those per-
formed in 1774, but those performed in February, 1775,
(Vol. for 1782, p. 458). In 1776 he printed a Memoir
on Nitrous Acid, in which ample justice is done to Dr.
Priestley's discoveries, and the experiments recounted as
made by M. Lavoisier, are admitted to have all been Dr.
Priestley's suggestions ; he himself only claiming to have
drawn more correct inferences from them. Among these
inferences, there is only the one that nitrous acid consists
of oxygen and nitrous gas ; but no suspicion of its real
composition, afterwards discovered by Mr. Cavendish to
be the union of azote and oxygen, is even hinted at. It
is also material to note, that in this paper not a word is
said of the claim to having discovered oxygen. In 1777 a
paper was printed by him on the combustion of phosphorus
with " air eminemment respirable," to form phosphoric
acid; that air is said to be "by Dr. Priestley termed
dephlogisticated air," and still nothing is said of the
claim to its joint discovery; but in p. 187 he speaks of
the " experiences de Dr. Priestley et les miennes," on pre-
cipitate per se. These experiments, we are told by him,
in the volume for 1 775, (p. 520,) were made in November,
1774. In 1778, he printed, it is said, his Memoir on
Acids. The date of presentation is given as September,

1778, but the reading is said to have been 23 November,

1779. In this paper, (p. 536,) he speaks of "the pure
air to which Priestley gave the name of dephlogisticated,
but which he himself calls oxygen, as being the acidifying
principle." No mention is made of the base of nitrous

LAVOISIER. 245

acid, or of his claim to the discovery of oxygen. In
1780, in another paper, lie speaks of "vital air, which
Priestley improperly called dephlogisticated," (p. 336.)
In the volume for 1781 is a paper on Scheele's work;
and though Scheele's discovery of oxygen is mentioned,
no claim to a partnership is advanced. In the same
volume is the admirable paper on the constitution of
fixed air, to which he gives the name of carbonic acid,
but still no mention of having discovered oxygen. Thus
we find that, in at least eight several papers which dis-
cuss the effects produced by the absorption and the
evolution of oxygen gas, printed between the years 1772
and 1780, not the least hint is given of his own claim,
though in five of those papers he mentions Priestley as
having given it a name ; and one would therefore believe
acknowledges him as the discoverer, without claiming any
partnership for himself. This must be confessed to be a
very strong circumstance, according to all the rides of
evidence and principles of decision which men apply to
the discussion and determination of claims in ordinary
cases.

It was not till late in the year 1782, that this claim
for the first time appeared. In a paper read November
of that year, upon the means of increasing heat by the use
of oxygen, he says, (p. 458,) " Get air que M. Priestley a
decouvert a peu-pres en rneme terns que inoi, et je crois
rnerne avant moi;" and reminds the Academy that he
had announced this inquiry at Easter, 1775, as having
been conducted with M. Trudaine in Montigny's labora-
tory some months before. Now, in the Memoir already
cited, he distinctly informs us that these experiments
were not made till February, 1775; therefore, it is to

246 LAVOISIER.

this period that he refers his supposed discovery, and
not to any part, however late, of 1774. It must also be
borne in mind, that, for the reason formerly stated
respecting the irregular publication of the Memoirs, and
the inserting in one year the papers read long after,
in many cases, without noting the date of their presen-
tation, it becomes impossible to be certain of the time at
which many of them were actually read. But I have
always assumed that M. Lavoisier's were read at the
times stated by him; and where no date is given I
have supposed the paper to have been read in the
year to which the volume refers — a supposition mani-
festly favourable, and often gratuitously favourable, to
his case.

We have thus seen the suspicious manner in which,
after suffering to pass over at least eight occasions on
which he might naturally have brought forward the claim,
he at length makes it at an interval of ten years; but
he makes it with an important admission, that Priestley's
discovery had been before his own. Yet strange to tell,
when he repeats the assertion of "presqu'en meme
terns," in his ' Siemens de Chimie,' he entirely omits this
statement of "et meme je crois avant rnoi." Let us
now observe what Dr. Priestley himself states, first re-
marking that he comes before us without the least
unfavourable impression attached to his testimony, while
M. Lavoisier's is subject to the weight of the observation
already made, and arising entirely from his own conduct.
Dr. Priestley, moreover, was a person of the most scrupu-
lous veracity, and wholly incapable of giving any false
colouring to the facts which he related respecting his
discoveries. Indued, no man ever shewed less vanity

LAVOISIER. 247

respecting his extraordinary services to science. He
even frankly and honestly, in the prefaces to his Essays,
disclaims much merit that all men would allow him ; and
fairly tells how many of the great things which he had
done were the suggestions of hazard, and not found out
by any preconceived plan for making the discovery. No
one, therefore, can possibly be cited whose authority is
more unimpeachable in weighing the facts of such a case. —
The following are his own words in a work published by
him, in 1800, upon phlogiston. "The case was this.
Having made the discovery (of oxygen) some time
before I was in Paris, in the year 1774, I mentioned it
at the table of M. Lavoisier, when most of the philoso-
phical people of the city were present, saying, that it
was a kind of air in which a candle burnt much better
than in common air, but I had not then given it any
name. At this all the company, and Mr. and Mrs.
Lavoisier as much as any, expressed great surprise. I
told them I had gotten it from precipitate per se, and
also from red lead. Speaking French very imperfectly,
and being little acquainted with the terms of chemistry,
I said plombe rouge, which was not understood till
Mr. Macquer said I must mean minium. M. Scheele's
discovery was certainly independent of mine, though, I
believe, not made quite so early."

It is very important here to remark that M. Lavoisier's
surprise was expressed at finding that minium had
yielded this new air by reduction. He himself had
made the experiment with minium, as we have seen,
and only could detect fixed air as the produce ; whence
his erroneous inference that a metallic calx is com-
posed of the metal united with fixed air. It was
not till six months after this discovery of Dr. Priestley,

248 LAVOISIER.

and full four months after his expression of surprise,
that he made the experiments which he many years
afterwards thought it not unbecoming to affirm, had
led him to the discovery about the same time with
Priestley. I will venture to assert that no one, however
little conversant with the rules of probability, or accus-
tomed to weigh testimony, can hesitate a moment in
drawing the conclusion, that M. Lavoisier never at any
time made this discovery; that he intruded himself
into the history of it, knowing that Priestley was its
sole author ; and that, in all likelihood, he covered over
to himself this unworthy proceeding, so lamentable
in the conduct of a truly great man, by the notion
that he differed with Priestley in his theory of the
gas — the one conceiving it to be a peculiar air deprived
of phlogiston, and capable of taking it from inflammable
gases; the other holding it to be air which unites to
inflammable bodies, and precipitates its heat and light
in forming the union. But all must admit that the
air was a newly discovered substance, a gas wholly
different from all other gases formerly known ; and that
therefore, whatever might be the theory, the question of
fact regarded the bringing this new substance to light.
No self-deception, therefore, can vindicate M. Lavoisier
for either the statement in his Memoir, suppressing all
mention of Dr. Priestley's communication, or the still
more reprehensible statement in his ' Elements/ suppress-
ing the trifling confession of Priestley's priority. With
respect to Scheele the case is wholly different. What
Priestley had discovered in 1 774, he discovered the year
following, without being aware that he had been antici-
pated. His process, too, was wholly different from
Priestley's, whereas Lavoisier's was the very same. Of

LAVOISIER. 249

these great men, then, Priestley made the discovery in

1774, Scheele in 1775, Lavoisier neither in 1774 nor in

1775, nor ever except by receiving the information from
" the true and first discoverer thereof, which, at the time,
others did not use.""""

There can be no doubt whatever that it was the dis-
covery of oxygen gas which suggested to M. Lavoisier
his theory of combustion. He had previously made the
important step of explaining the calcination of metals,
so far, at least, as shewing that it was the union of the
metals with air absorbed, though he was wholly mis-
taken as to the air which they gave out on reduction,
and had a most imperfect notion of the change which
their calcination produced on the air in which the process
took place ; but now he was enabled, by Dr. Priestley's
discovery, to shew that the air absorbed is oxygen gas;
while Dr. Black's great doctrine of heat, which he also
called to his assistance, enabled him to perceive that the
gas, on becoming fixed, parted with its latent heat, and
assumed a solid form. A felicitous idea of Macquer's,
which M. Lavoisier cites, ('Mem./ 1777, p. 572,) that
calcination is only a slow combustion, may have given
rise to his theory of this operation ; but he had also, in
his experiments on phosphorus and sulphur, shewn the
absorption of oxygen by those bodies in burning ; and as
the doctrine of Dr. Black shewed how much heat was
evolved on a gaseous body becoming fixed and solid, we
may suppose that these experiments, which he laid before
the Academy in the spring of I777f, led him to his

* Words of our Patent Act, 21 James I.

f In his Memoir on Phlogiston in the volume for 1783, he speaks
of his theory of combustion as having been "published in 1777." If

250 LAVOISIER.

general theory. This theory is well known. It consists
in supposing that all combustion, like all calcination, is
produced by the union of oxygen with the body burnt or
calcined; and that the gas which, in calcination, only
gives out its heat and light slowly and imperceptibly,
unless when this operation is performed very rapidly, in
combustion gives out that heat quickly and sensibly.
Thus the doctrine is, that, by applying heat to a com-
bustible body, we so far overcome the attraction of co-
hesion as to make the particles enter into a union with
those of the gas, which gives out its latent heat and
light, thus causing the flame that marks and distinguishes
the process. Calcination, too, may be produced so
quickly, that the process is attended with red heat, and
even with flame. Iron burns with a bright whitish and
sometimes a bluish flame, gold with a duller and more
lambent flame of a greenish colour.

The product of the combustion, slow or quick, was next
attentively considered by M. Lavoisier. In the case of
metals it was their calces, or as he denominated them
from the process of oxygenation, oxides. In the case of
sulphur he had found it to be vitriolic acid, of phos-
phorus phosphoric; nitrous gas, which he erroneously
supposed the base of nitrous acid, formed that acid by its
union with oxygen. The nature of fixed air, too, was no

by "published" he means read at the Academy, this maybe correct,
for it appears to have been read 5 Sept., 1777, but the volume was
not published till 1780. In the same volume we find internal evi-
dence that the other papers referred to in the text were read in the
opening of that year; thus, one of them read in May refers to
experiments about to be performed in company with M. Trudaine
and M. Montigny, the former of whom died in August, 1777.

LAVOISIEK. 251

longer a matter of doubt. Dr. Black had shewn, as early
as 1 757, that the combustion of charcoal produced it. M.
Lavoisier, in 1777, satisfied himself by his experiments on
pyrophorus formed by heating alum and carbonaceous mat-
ter together, that the union of carbonaceous matter with
oxygen gas produces fixed air. It is true he did not com-
plete this important inference till 1781, when he shewed
by decisive experiments that charcoal contains, beside in-
flammable air, water, and other impurities, a matter purely
carbonaceous, and which he afterwards termed carbon,
which, by its union with oxygen, forms fixed air, thence
called by him carbonic acid. But the knowledge that
the something contained in charcoal uniting itself with
oxygen gas forms fixed air, and that this fixed air is an
acid, had been obtained by Dr. Black, M. Lavoisier, and
M. Macquer before 1777. On these facts he now rea-
soned as well as on the composition of the acid of sugar,
which, with other vegetable acids, he considered as con-
taining oxygen. He then made his famous generaliza-
tion that oxygen is the acidifying principle, and from
thence he gave it the name. Dr. Priestley had shewn its
absorption by the lungs in respiration ; and thus we had
the general proposition established, as M. Lavoisier sup-
posed, that oxygen gas is necessary to combustion, calci-
nation, acidification, respiration, possibly to the animal
heat thence arising, and certainly to the red colour of
arterial blood ; consequently he held that all those pro-
cesses, so different in themselves, are really one and the
same, the union of oxygen with different bodies in dif-
ferent ways. I reserve for a subsequent stage of the
treatise the consideration of this important and beautiful
theory.

252 LAVOISIER.

While M. Lavoisier was employed in generalizing the
phenomena observed by others, in correcting former
opinions, and in adding materially to the store of facts
by his own experiments, but rather filling up blanks
left by his predecessors than producing any very striking
novelties himself, two most important discoveries were
made in England which call for our careful observation,
— the composition of water and of the nitrous acid.
Respecting the latter discovery there is no question
whatever. Mr. Cavendish alone is its author. Dr.
Priestley had shewn that nitrous acid was resolvable
into nitrous gas, which he discovered, and oxygen.
M. Lavoisier had never gone further than to suppose
that gas the base of the acid. He had never sus-
pected it to be compounded of any other known mate-
rials, except in so far as it plainly contained oxygen ;
and as for azote, the residue of atmospheric air after the
oxygen gas, or respirable part, is withdrawn from it, we
find him expressing strongly ('Mem./ 1777,) that this
is a body of whose nature we are wholly ignorant. I
am not aware that he ever laid any claim whatever to
share in Mr. Cavendish's great discovery, to which he was
led by the most philosophical consideration of the acid
always found when oxygen gas, impure from the pre-
sence of nitrogen or azote, is burnt with inflammable air.
A careful course of experiments devised and directed by
him, performed by his colleagues of the Royal Society,
led to the knowledge of this important truth.

But the other great discovery with which his name is
inseparably connected stands in different circumstances.
Nothing can interfere with his title to be regarded as
having first made the capital experiment upon which it

LAVOISIER. 253

rests; but it is equally undeniable, that from less elabo-
rate experiments Mr. Watt had before him drawn the
inference then so startling, that it required all the
boldness of the philosophic character to venture upon
it — the inference that water was not a simple element,
but a combination of oxygen with inflammable air,
thence called hydrogen gas. That Mr. Watt first gene-
ralized the facts so as to arrive at this great truth, I
think, has been proved as clearly as any position in the
history of physical science. (' Life of Watt,' — Historical
note in Appendix. — Eloge of Watt by Arago.) It is
equally certain from the examination of Mr. Cavendish's
papers, and from the publication lately made of his
journals, first, that he never so clearly as Mr. Watt drew
the inference from his experiments; and, secondly, that
though those experiments were made before Mr. Watt's
inferences, yet Mr. Cavendish's conclusion was not drawn
even privately by himself, till after Mr. Watt's inference
had been made known to many others.4'"

In 1783, after Mr. Cavendish's experiment had been
made, and after Mr. Watt's theory had been formed upon
the experiments of Warltire and Priestley, and of Mr.
Watt himself, Sir Charles Blagdeu went to Paris. The
experiments of Mr. Cavendish were made in 1781, the
theory of Mr. Watt was contained in a letter which was

* Mr. Harcourt's publication, contrary indeed to his design, has
greatly strengthened the evidence in Mr. Watt's favour. (' Life
of Watt,' in vol. i., p. 201.) Professor Robison's article in the
' Encyclopaedia Britannica' gives an opinion coinciding with mine ;
and it was published thirteen years before Mr. Cavendish's death.
I first stated that opinion in a published form in 1803-4. ('Edin-
burgh Review,' vol. iii.) See the Appendix to this Life, in which
some account is given of the extraordinary errors and carelessness
about facts, which distinguish M. Cuvier's Eloge of Mr. Cavendish.

254 LAVOISIER.

communicated to the Royal Society in April, 1783:
there is even reason to think from his correspondence,
that it was formed earlier. Mr. Cavendish never gave
the least intimation of having drawn any such inference
from his experiment before April, 1 783, when Mr. Watt's
letter was in the hands of the President of the Royal
Society, and was accessible to Sir Charles Blagden, one
of the Council. Mr. Cavendish's Diary of his experi-
ments has been carefully examined, and fac-similes
have been printed by Mr. Harcourt of all that relates to
the discovery ; not a word is to be found of the inference
or conclusion from the experiment, of a date prior to
April, 1783, when Mr. Watt's letter was in the hands of
the Society. It is certain that, whether he took the
theory from Mr. Watt or had formed it himself, he did,
previous to June, 1783, adopt and express the opinion
that his experiment shewed " dephlogisticated air to be
water deprived of its phlogiston." Now this was, in the
language of the Stahl doctrine, holding that water was
formed by the union of phlogiston with dephlogisticated
air, a calx, as it were, of phlogiston. But Mr. Watt's
theory was, that phlogiston and inflammable air are
synonymous. Be this, however, as it may, the conclu-
sion contains the real doctrine of the composition of
water, how much disguised soever by the language of the
phlogistic theory; and that conclusion was communi-
cated, Sir C. Blagden says, "in summer, 1783," to M.
Lavoisier. His words are, "that he gave last summer
(1783) some account of Mr. Cavendish's experiments to
M. Lavoisier, as well as of the conclusion drawn from
them, that dephlogisticated air is only water deprived of
its phlogiston : but at that time so far was M. Lavoisier
from thinking any such opinion warranted, that till he

LAVOISIER. 255

was prevailed upon to repeat the experiment himself, he
found some difficulty in believing that nearly the whole
of the two airs could be converted into water."""

This passage is in Mr. Cavendish's paper ; but it is not
in his own hand-writing, nor is it in the paper as at first
printed ; it is added in the hand-writing of Sir 0. Blagden,
and is therefore that gentleman's assertion of what had
passed at Paris the summer before. M. Lavoisier states
that it was in June Sir C. Blagden saw him ; and also
states that he was present when the experiment on which
the French claim to the discovery rests, was performed by
Messrs. Lavoisier and Laplace before several Academi-
cians on the 24th of June. He adds the material fact,
that Sir Charles informed the company of Mr. Cavendish's
having already performed the experiment, and obtained
a considerable quantity of water from the combustion of
the two gases. He wholly omits the still more material
fact, that Sir Charles also stated the conclusion drawn from
the experiment in England ; and he does not mention that
he, M. Lavoisier, did not believe it possible that nearly
the whole of the two airs could be converted into water.
This omission of M. Lavoisier is quite unworthy of him.
Sir 0. Blagden' s statement was published in 1784 in the
'Philosophical Transactions;' and though M. Lavoisier
constantly wrote papers which were published by the
Academy for several years after this statement of Sir
Charles in Mr. Cavendish's paper, and though his Memoirs
repeatedly touched upon the composition of water, and in
one of them he gave it as a truth established by himself,

* In a letter of Blagden's, published in 'Crell's Annals,' in 1786,
he states having mentioned to Lavoisier also Mr. Watt's conclusions,
which he there admits had been made "about the same time'' as
Cavendish's. Vol. I. for 1786.

256 LAVOISIER.

(' Mem. sur la Decomposition de 1'Eau par la Vegetation
des Plantes/ 1786,) yet he never gave a word of contra-
diction to Sir C. Blagden's statement. Indeed, that Sir
Charles must, if he related the experiment as M. Lavoi-
sier says he did, have also added the conclusion drawn
from it, is quite evident; he never could have given the
one without the other. If the unbelief of M. Lavoisier
was not a fact, it was a pure invention of Sir Charles,
which not only M. Lavoisier, but M. Laplace, M. Leroy,
and others, all present at the time, could at once have con-
tradicted. And here the reader cannot fail to recollect,
that a very similar circumstance attended Dr. Priestley's
communication of his discovery of oxygen to M. Lavoisier.
When the Doctor described the effect of this new gas in
enlarging the flame of bodies burnt in it, M. Lavoisier ex-
pressed his great surprise; yet he afterwards suppressed
all mention of his surprise, and of his having received the
account of the discovery from the real author. In the
case of Mr. Cavendish's experiment, he admits having
been told of it ; and suppresses all mention of the theory
having been at the same time imparted to him, and of
his own incredulity until he repeated the experiment and
convinced himself.

It seems, therefore, quite certain, that in this case, as
in that of oxygen, M. Lavoisier's intrusion is clearly
proved; that he performed an experiment which another
had before, to his knowledge, contrived and made; that
he drew a conclusion from it, in substance the same with
the conclusion which others had drawn, and which he
had been apprized of, before he either produced the ex-
periment or reasoned upon its result ; that he related the
whole, both in his 'Memoirs,' and in his 'Elements,3 as if
he had been the author of the discovery ; and that he

LAVOISIER. 257

only told a part of the communication previously made
to him, leaving out if he did not suppress, the most import-
ant portion of the statement, the theory of the process.

It is on the other hand certain, that from having
abandoned the phlogiston hypothesis, his theory of the
experiment was more distinctly and accurately given than
it had been by former reasoners who were hampered with
the errors of that doctrine ; although in the popular language
at the time, the composition and decomposition of water
was always spoken of as the discovery that had been
made. We must further allow, that M. Lavoisier added
a valuable experiment to the synthetical process of
Priestley and Cavendish, the analysis of water by passing-
its vapour or steam over hot iron filings, and finding that
the oxygen calcined the metal, while the other con-
stituent part escaped in the form of inflammable air ; an
experiment of excellent use after the more crucial trial
of the composition had been made, but wholly inconclu-
sive had it stood by itself/''

In the course of these inquiries, of the numerous
Memoirs to which they gave rise, and of the various dis-
cussions in which they involved him, M. Lavoisier, who
was so anxious, as we have seen, to obtain a share or
kind of partnership in the greatest discoveries of his time,
never showed any anxiety to distribute the praise where
it was really due, either among his contemporaries or
their immediate predecessors. It might have been thought

* An admirable experiment similar to Mr. Cavendish's was per-
formed in June, 1783, by M. Monge, at Mezieres. The account
of it is given in the volume for 1783 ; and the author mentions in
a note both Lavoisier and Cavendish's experiments., stating that
they were performed on a smaller scale.

S

258 LAVOISIER.

difficult to write so often as he has done upon the gases,
and the new sera which their discovery opened to che-
mistry, and not to have once mentioned him, who, by the
discovery of fixed air, was beyond all doubt the founder
of the system. Still more difficult was it to investigate
the properties of that body, ascertaining its composition
with new accuracy, and yet avoid all allusion to Black,
who had long before him proved it to be the product of
charcoal when burnt. The reader will search in Tain,
either the papers on combustion, or those on acidification,
or those on the composition of fixed air, for the least re-
ference to that illustrious name. In the several Memoirs
upon the nature of heat, its absorption and evolution, its
combining in a quiescent state to form the permanently
elastic fluids, how difficult was it to avoid all mention of
him who made the great step of discovering latent heat,
and showed that to its absorption was owing fluidity, both
liquid and aeriform ! I confess that when I first read the
title of one of those excellent papers, " De la Conibinaison
de la Matiere du Feu avec les Fluides evaporablcs, et de la
Formation des Fluides elastiques aeriformes," (Mem. de
VAcad. 1777, p. 410,) I expected to find mentioned,
at every step of the discussion, the author of this whole
theory, and who left it absolutely perfect, who taught it
from the year 1763 to crowded classes, and whose name
was connected with it wherever science was cultivated.
My wonder was not small when I found not the least
allusion to Black, and that the problem was completely
solved, how to frame an exact account of any given man's
discoveries and theory, never coming into contact with
his name. No reader of that paper could doubt that the
whole doctrine was that of M. Lavoisier himself; and in a

LAVOISIER. 259

paper printed seven years after by himself and M. de La
Place, on the nature of heat, a reference is distinctly
made to this doctrine of aeriform fluidity, as the theory of
M. Lavoisier""". We find this in the Memoirs for 1780f,
published 1784, but the paper was read June 18, 1783.
The theory of latent heat had been taught by Dr. Black
to large classes for above twenty years before that time,
and had been universally associated with his name in
every part of the world.

But it may be supposed, that by some singular chance,
M. Lavoisier was unacquainted with that illustrious name.
I must therefore produce evidence to the contrary under
his own hand. In Oct., 1789, he writes to Dr. Black,
and professes himself to be " zele admirateur de la pro-
fondeur de votre genie, et des importantes revolutions
que vos decouvertes ont occasionnees dans la chimie." In
the following year, July 14, he tells him: "Accoutume
a vous regarder comme mon maitre, je ne serai content
jusqu'a ce que les circonstances permettent de vous aller
porter moi-meme le temoignage de mon admiration, et de
me ranger an nombre de vos disciples." Now after
writing these letters, M.Lavoisier published his 'Elements ;'
and while writing them he published, in the Memoirs of
the Academy, a paper in which the doctrine of latent
heat, as the cause of fluidity, is described, and described

* Mem. 1780, p. 399.

t See, too, vol. for 1777, p. 595- In the paper 1777 first cited,
the only thing ascribed to preceding philosophers is the belief in
the existence of an igneous fluid, or matter of heat in OUT planet ;
and the experiments of Richman, Cullen, Mairan, and Baume on
the production of cold by evaporation.

s 2

260 LAVOISIEK.

as his own, not as Black's, whose name is wholly
avoided*.

It may easily be believed that Dr. Black's surprise was
great upon this occasion, and that he treated the flattery
contained in these letters with a very marked contempt.
This we learn from his friend and colleague, Professor
Robison, (Lectures, vol. II., note.) But this no one
could have learnt from that illustrious philosopher's
manner, when he had occasion to speak of his correspon-
dent in public. I well remember the uniform respect
with which he mentioned him in his Lectures, the admira-
tion which Jie always expressed of his great powers of
generalization, the satisfaction with which he recounted
his experiments, some of which, he himself, performed
before us; nay, the willingness with which he admitted
him to a share of the grand discovery of the composition
of water; and shewed us the analytical proof, or rather
illustration of the doctrine, as a most happy confirmation
of it, though not certainly deserving to be regarded as an
unequivocal demonstration. No one could ever have
suspected either the existence of the letters which I have
cited or the blank in the Memoirs with which I have con-
trasted them.

After the year 1784, though M. Lavoisier continued
his scientific labours, excepting his co-operation in forming
the new nomenclature, and his important researches, in
company with M. Seguin, upon the processes of respira-
tion and transpiration, there are no results of his chemical
inquiries that require to be mentioned. The paper on

* Mem. 1789, p. 567. Black is mentioned with Boyle, Hales,
and Priestley, only as having shown that the air of the atmosphere
is altered by the respiration of animals — (p. 568.)

LAVOISIER. 2G1

Respiration (Mem. 1789) contains some very important
experiments which throw great light upon that process, and
some upon the production of animal heat. They not
only clearly shew that the oxygenation of the blood, in
passing through the lungs, produces both carbonic acid
gas by the slow combustion of carbon, and water by
that of hydrogen, the carbon and the hydrogen being
alike supplied by the blood, which as early as 1785
M. Lavoisier had suspected from many appearances;'"
but they enable us to ascertain the exact quantity of
oxygen gas consumed, and of carbon and hydrogen in-
haled in the process; for they shew 24 cubic feet of gas,
or 2 Ibs. 1 oz. and 1 scruple to be consumed in 24 hours,
and 2 Ibs. 5 oz. and 4 scruples of carbonic acid to be
formed with 5 scruples 51 gr. of water: answering to
10 oz. 4 scruples of carbon and 1 oz. 5 scruples and
51 gr. of hydrogen. A number of valuable physiological
and therapeutical conclusions are derived from the same
inquiry. In the paper on Transpiration (Mem. 1790) the
inquiry is continued, and a general estimate is formed
by approximation of the amount lost in the 24 hours by
this process ; it is 1 Ib. 1 4 oz. and only 5 drachms by res-
piration : a calculation not reconcileable with the former
course of experiments, which made the loss under 12 oz.
Beside these Memoirs, and one or two others of less
importance on chemical subjects, he gave a paper in
1789 upon the horizontal strata deposited by the sea;
a subject to which he had, in the earliest period of his

* The theory of the present day departs somewhat from Lavoi-
sier's, particularly in holding that the carbonic acid is not produced
at the surface of the lungs, and that the oxygen enters into combi-
nation with the mass of the blood, forming water and carbonic acid
at the capillary terminations of the vessels.

262 LAVOISIER.

scientific researches, devoted much of his attention, as
I have already related. From his numerous observa-
tions, both on the coast and on the Paris basin, M. Monge
drew the conclusion that the earth was originally covered
with vegetables long before any animals were upon its
surface. The subsequent inquiries, we may say dis-
coveries, of Cuvier and his successors, deprive these com-
paratively imperfect attempts in geological science of
nearly their whole interest.

In the course of the illustrious career which we have
been surveying, its brightness occasionally dimmed with
the spots which a regard for the truth of history over-
coming our regard for his fame made it a duty to mark,
this great man occasionally gave his aid to the adminis-
tration of public affairs, not as a politician, for from that
craft he ever kept aloof, but when called in by the
government to its assistance. In 1776 M. Turgot, then
minister, requested him to superintend the manufacture
of gunpowder; and the result of his labours was both
the increase by nearly a fourth in the explosive force of
the compound, and, what the enlightened statesman who
employed him valued still more, the suppression of the
vexatious regulations for collecting saltpetre from private
buildings : an operation of wise as well as humane legis-
lation, by which the produce of that necessary article
was increased fourfold. When the National Assembly,
in 1791, appointed a committee to improve the system
of taxation, he was again consulted, and he drew up a
treatise, entitled 'Richesse Territoriale de la France,'
which contained the fullest account yet given of the pro-
duction and consumption of the country, and was by far
the most valuable report ever presented to the legisla-
ture. Being appointed one of the Commissioners of the

LAVOISIER. 263

Treasury in the same year, he introduced into that great
department such system and such regularity, that the
income and expenditure under each head could be per-
ceived at a single glance each successive day. To the new
metrical system he contributed by accurate experiments
upon the expansion of metals, never before fully investi-
gated. He was likewise consulted, with great advantage to
the public service, upon the best means of preventing for-
gery, when the system of paper credit led to the issue of
assignats. The Academy, as well as the state at large,
benefited amply by his mature and practical genius,
formed to direct and further the affairs of life as well
as the speculations of the closet. All its plans, and all
the subjects referred to it by the government, received
the inestimable advantage of his assistance and advice;
he was a member of the Board of Consultation, and he
was the treasurer of the body, in which capacity he
introduced new order and exact economy into the
management of its concerns.

These public cares did not distract him from that
due to the administration of his private concerns. Agri-
culture had early in life engaged his attention; and he
set apart a considerable tract of land on his estate, at
Vendome, for experimental farming. Of the peasantry
upon his property he always took the most kind and
parental care ; and to the poor, in general, his charities
knew no bounds but those of his means. His house in
Paris is described as having been a vast laboratory, in
which experiments were always going on: not merely
those contrived by himself and subservient to his own
speculations, but whatever trials any one connected with
science desired to have made, and which required the aid

264 LAVOISIER.

of his costly apparatus to perform. Twice a week his
apartments were thrown open to receive all scientific men,
foreigners as well as natives; all were received with the
utmost courtesy ; and to young men of merit in straitened
circumstances this enlightened and truly liberal person
was a generous auxiliary.

The lustre which his labours had shed over the scientific
renown of France, the valuable services which he had
rendered to her in so many important departments of
her affairs, the virtues which adorned his character and
made his philosophy beloved as well as revered, were
all destined to meet the reward with which the tyranny
of vulgar faction is sure to recompense the good and the
wise, as often as the base unlettered multitude are per-
mitted to bear sway and to place in the seat of domi-
nion their idols, who dupe to betray and finally punish
them. The execrable triumvirate in 1794 seized
him with twenty-seven others, who had been fermiers-
general before the Revolution, an employment he held
as it were by inheritance ; they were all flung into prison
upon a charge which as against most of them, certainly
as against Lavoisier, was ridiculously groundless, that
of having mixed water and ingredients hurtful to the
health of the citizens for the adulteration of tobacco,
one of the objects of the ferme; but their real crimes
were their possessions. On hearing of the order for his
arrest he fled, and remained for some days in conceal-
ment; but understanding that his escape might injure
the others, and that among them M. Paulze, his father-
in-law, had been arrested, he nobly, though to the
sorrow of the sciences, gave himself up and was confined
with the rest. He presently perceived that he must

LAVOISIER. 265

expect to be stripped of his property ; but he could lead
the life of a philosopher, and wealth had never minis-
tered to any but his philosophical pursuits. He had,
indeed, when those dismal times began, in conversation
with Laborde, said that he foresaw his fortune could not
escape, and that he was resolved, when ruined, to support
himself by his labour; and the profession in which he
designed to engage was that of pharmacy. No such
respite, however, was now allowed him. By a retro-
spective law, monstrous even in that season of violence,
their persons were declared punishable for the profits
which they had made from the old government, and
punishable not as for malversation but treason. This
iniquitous decree was passed on the 5th May; under it
he was condemned to death by the Revolutionary Tri-
bunal, before whom a courageous citizen, M. Halle, had
the noble firmness to read a detailed account of Lavoi-
sier's discoveries, and his services to his country. After
his sentence was pronounced, he himself asked to be
allowed a few days' respite, in order that he might see
the result of some experiments which he had planned,
and which were going on during his confinement; the
cruel answer of the Tribunal, through Coffmhal their
brutal jester, was that "the Republic had no need of
philosophers," and he was hurried to the scaffold on the
following day, the 8th of May, 1794, with a hundred
and twenty-three other victims, who suffered in the
course of a few hours.

Thus perished, in the fifty-first year of his age, one of
the most illustrious cultivators of science in modern times.
When the absolutely harmless life he had ever led,
remote from all political connections, is considered,

266 LAVOISIER.

together with the utterly ridiculous nature of the charge
against him, we can hardly avoid asking ourselves how it
came to pass that no voice was raised, no hand stretched
out for his rescue. One man of science, among the most
eminent of his time — Carnot, was on the Terrible Com-
mittee: had he no means of saving this great philoso-
pher, accused of something as absurd and fabulous as
witchcraft \ There was another, much more nearly
related to Lavoisier in his pursuits — a member possessed
of no small influence in the Convention, and who had in
the Committee of Public Instruction succeeded in carry-
ing some most important measures — Fourcroy was that
man; and he had often employed his extraordinary
powers in explaining and enforcing the great discoveries
of his master, as well as in sounding his praises to
crowded audiences assembled from every part of the
world. Fourcroy could never have feared to receive the
answer of the savage, Coffinhal, that the Republic had
philosophers enough ; and it is to be hoped that Fourcroy
did not consider there would be philosophers enough if
his master were to disappear from among their number.
The courage shown by the virtuous Halle might have
been expected from Fourcroy, in whom its display would
have been incomparably safer. His interposition would
also have. been much more powerful; nay, we know that
he did interpose, with effect, for another member of the
Academy, M. Darcet, whom he saved from the guillotine.
No explanation has ever been given of the neutral
position maintained by him in Lavoisier's apparent
murder. This only we know, that he remained in his
place, both as a member of the Convention and of the
Committee; and we know, too, how impossible it would

LAVOISIER. 267

have been to retain H alley or Maclaurin in theirs, had
the sacred head of Newton been threatened by the sacri-
legious hands of their colleagues. The charge against
Fourcroy amounts to no more; for there is no evidence
whatever to support the accusation often brought against
him, that he had instigated the atrocious crime which
placed all the republic of letters in mourning, and covered
that of France with infamy hardly to be effaced. M.
Cuvier tells us that the " most strict researches had left
him unable to discover the least proof in support of this
horrid charge, and he states that this imputation " had
been the torment of M. Fourcroy's life."'"' This is very
credible ; the charge is hardly credible at all. But men's
admiration of Halle will remain for ever; and if their
suspicions of Fourcroy should ever be removed, they
must at least regard his want of courage with contempt
rather than pity.

The great man whose life was thus sacrificed, was as
much to be loved in private life as he was to be revered
among philosophers. His manners were simple and
engaging, his generosity unbounded, his conduct without
reproach. His case formed no exception to the general
rule, which seems almost always to forbid genius from
descending in families, for he died childless. His widow,
a person of remarkable abilities and great information,
shared in his pursuits, and even took upon herself the
task of engraving the plates that accompanied his
'Elements.' She survived him many years, and late in life
was married to Count Rumford, whom she also outlived.

* Eloge de Fourcroy, Mem. de I'lnstitut, An 1810. (Tome XL,
Phys. et Math.)

268 LAVOIS1EE.

From the accurate detail into which I have entered of
Lavoisier's history, no difficulty remains in forming an
estimate of his merits as a great teacher of science. He
possessed the happiest powers of generalizing, and of
applying them to the facts which others had discovered,
often making important additions to those facts ; always,
where any link was wanting to connect them, either
together or with his conclusions, supplying that link by
judiciously-contrived experiments of his own. He may
most justly be said to have made some of the most
important discoveries in modern times, and to have left
the science of chemistry with its bounds extended very
far beyond those within which he had found it confined
wlicu his researches began.

It is, however, fit that we make the important dis-
tinction between the two classes of his theories: those
which, being founded upon a rigorous induction, and not
pushed beyond the legitimate conclusions from certain
facts, stand as truths to this day, and in all probability
will ever retain their place; and those which, carried
incautiously or daringly beyond the proper bounds of
him who is only naturae minister et interpres, have
already been overthrown — never, indeed, having reposed
upon solid foundations.

1. Of the first class is his important doctrine of cal-
cination— justly termed by him, oxidation, — by which
he overthrew the leading doctrine of Stahl, and shewed
that metals do not part with anything in passing from
the reguline state, but, on the contrary, absorb and fix a
gas — proved by other philosophers to be oxygen gas.
This, his capital discovery, stands, and in all probability
will ever stand, the test of every inquiry. AVe know of

LAVOISIER. 269

no calcination without oxygen — we know of no metallic
oxygenation without calcination.*

2. The importance of the blow thus given to the
theory of phlogiston induced him to follow it up by
denying that combustion is a process which evolves any
component part from bodies ; but, on the contrary, that,
like calcination, it always consists of some other sub-
stance being added to, or united with, the inflammable
body.

3. The ascertaining the nature of fixed air, that is,
the combination of oxygen gas with the carbonic prin-
ciple, and the ascertaining also the existence of that
principle, is another discovery of the same great master;
and we owe it to the well-contrived experiments by
which he proved it.

4. The analogy of the diamond to this carbonic prin-
ciple is another discovery of his, though he did not make
the final step of shewing or even suspecting the identity
of the two bodies.

5. The composition of sulphuric and of phosphoric
acid, and perhaps of saccharic too, were first clearly
explained by his experiments, and by his judicious and
original reasoning upon the experiments of others.

6. There is more doubt of the composition of the
atmosphere having been first proved by him. Certainly its
nature was by him first fully ascertained ; but it was plainly
known to Priestley at an earlier date. Lavoisier, however,
added much to our accurate knowledge of the function

* If it should be said that metals absorb oxygen when dissolved
in oxygenous acids, we answer, that still they are in the state of calx
or oxide, though united to an acid menstruum.

270 LAVOISIER.

of respiration; and the discovery of hydrogen being
evolved by it as well as carbon, was undeniably his.

7. We have seen that to the two great discoveries of
oxygen and the composition of water, he can lay no
claim. Yet let it be borne in mind that his statement
of both doctrines was more precise and clear than
any which the authors of the experiments and original
framers of the theory had given. As regards the latter
doctrine, the obscurity of Mr. Cavendish's language, even
of Mr. Watt's though in a much less degree, has been
observed upon already. But we need only consider Dr.
Priestley's view of the air he had discovered, and the
name he gave it, in order to be satisfied how confused
were the notions derived from the phlogistic theory, and
how they obscured his naturally acute vision. When he
called it dephlogisticated air, he intended to say that air,
the atmosphere, parts with phlogiston, and the residue is
oxygen gas. But then if phlogiston be added, it should
again become common air. Now he held the calcination
of metals to be the evolution of phlogiston, therefore this
operation should have restored the gas to the state of
common air. But, instead of that, it absorbed it alto-
gether. Again : the residue, when common air is deprived
of the dephlogisticated portion, is another air which he
called phlogisticated, because it contained more phlogiston
than the common air. But how by this theory could the
union of such a phlogisticated air with a dephlogisticated
air make the common air? By the hypothesis, that air
with phlogiston added is azote, with phlogiston sub-
tracted is oxygen gas. Therefore mixing the two, you
should have produced, not the air that had been phlogis-
ticated in making the one, dephlogisticated in making

LAVOISIER. 271

the other, but double the quantity operated upon.*
Such was the load of absurdity and contradiction under
which the favourite hypothesis of the day placed Priestley
entirely, Cavendish to a great degree, Watt in some
sort; such was the weight of prejudice against which
Lavoisier had to contend; such was the maze of error
from which he boldly broke loose and extricated chemical
science. It is his glory that he first effected this emanci-
pation; and it is no small proof of his merit, that for
many years he remained almost alone among the philo-
sophers of his age, and even his own countrymen, how
prone soever to adopt French discoveries, in maintaining
opinions from which there is now, after the lapse of little
more than half a century, not a single dissenting voice
all over the scientific world.

We are now to mark wherein he was led astray by
the love of theorising carrying him too far. He was not
content with shewing that combustion, contrary to the
phlogistic doctrine, proceeds from a union of the burning
body with other bodies; but he regarded the body
uniting as always the same, to wit, oxygen. Observing
the fact of many bodies burning in oxygen gas, and of
most other gases being unfit for supporting flame, he
generalized too much, and inferred that all combustion
consists in the union of that gas with the inflammable
body. — Again : he regarded the heat and light given out
in the process as wholly proceeding from the gas, as
having kept the gas when latent in its aeriform state,
and as given out in a sensible form when the gas becomes

* If common air (a) — Phlog. = ox. gas, and com. air (a) + Phlog.
= azote; Ox. gas + azote = not a, as it ought to do, but 2 a.

272 LAVOISIER,

fixed in a liquid or a solid state. — Lastly : observing that
the union of many bodies with oxygen produced acids,
he generalized too much this fact, and inferred that all
acids contain oxygen, which he thence called by that
name, as denoting the acidifying principle. Now all
these inferences are groundless, and therefore this portion
of his theory is to be rejected. He is to be followed
implicitly in rejecting Stahl's principle ; the doctrine of
phlogiston he for ever overthrew. His own theory, the
doctrine which he substituted in place of the one which
he had destroyed, is liable to insuperable objections ; at
least when carried to the length which he went.

In the first place, not only may oxygenation take
place without any evolution of either heat or light, but
combustion. The mixture of many substances together
evolves heat, and a great degree of heat, without the
presence of oxygen — or if oxygen be present in some of
these cases, it is not operative in any way — it is not
disengaged, and is not in the form of a gas to be ab-
sorbed. Thus, much heat is caused by the mixture of
sulphuric acid and water; some heat by the mixture
of alcohol and water. Lime when slaked by water
produces violent heat, sometimes accompanied with light
also, flame as well as redness appearing. The union of
iron with sulphur in vacuo causes great heat and the
emission of bright light. The exposure of metals and
other inflammable bodies to gases which contain no
oxygen, as chlorine, produces red heat and flame. There-
fore, although it is very true that we know of no instance
in which combustion takes place without the union of
the combustible body to some other, and the formation
of a new substance, yet it is not true that oxygen alone

LAVOISIER. 273

causes combustion, and that no body can burn but in
oxygen gas.

Secondly. The facts are all against his doctrine, that
the heat and light conies from the fixation of the gas.
Experiments on the capacity of bodies for heat have
clearly shewn this. But the simple fact of well-known
explosions, as of gunpowder, disproves his theory — for
here, instead of the heat and light coming from the gas
being reduced to a solid state, a gaseous body is formed
two or three hundrecj times the bulk of the solid ex-
ploded.

Thirdly. There are many acids which have no oxygen
in their composition, and there are many bodies con-
taining oxygen which have none of the qualities of
acids. The first part of this proposition was not cer-
tainly known to Lavoisier, and he assumed that the
acids which had not yet been decomposed would be
found to contain oxygen. The second part of the pro-
position was known to him, and ought to have checked
his generalization. We now know many acids which
contain no oxygen at all. Muriatic acid, a compound of
chlorine and hydrogen; prussic acid, a compound of
hydrogen, nitrogen and carbon; hydro-bromic ; fluoric-
acid; ferro-cyanic acid; sulpho-cyanic ; hydro-selenic ;
hydriodic: xanthic. Even if fluoric be omitted, here
are nine undeniable acids, and all without a particle
of oxygen in their composition. Again, the mere
fact of calcination should have prevented him from so
generalizing, for all calces contain oxygen, and many of
them have no acid qualities. Indeed, his own conjec-
ture, since fully confirmed by experiment, that the fixed
alkalis are oxides, is a still more striking disproof of his

T

274 LAVOISIER.

theory ; for it appears that he might just as well have
called oxygen the alkalizing principle as the acidifying,
or rather much better, since , all the alkalis save one
contain it and the alkaline earths to boot. But he also
should have recollected that no acid of them all contains
so much oxygen as water, and yet nothing Ijgss like an
acid can well be imagined. We now have still further
instances of the same kind against this theory, and which
might justify us in calling hydrogen the acidifying prin-
ciple as well as oxygen. Upwards of two hundred acids
contain hydrogen either with or without oxygen present.
Hence he might really have reckoned hydrogen the acidi-
fying principle upon fully better grounds than support his
choice of oxygen; and the truth appears to be, that
..there is no one substance which deserves the name.

It is, then, quite clear that M. Lavoisier committed a
great error in his induction, and that he framed a theory
which was in the extent to which he pressed it wholly
without foundation — not merely without sufficient proof
from the facts, but contrary to the facts. Newton gives
it as a fundamental rule of philosophising, that we are
to state the inferences from phenomena with the excep-
tions which occur, and if a first induction should be
made from imperfect views of the phenomena, then to
correct it by the exceptions afterwards found to exist.
But from this rule Lavoisier has departed entirely:
because, though subsequent experiments have greatly
increased the number of the exceptions, yet there were
many striking ones at the time he formed his system,
and these were left out of view in its formation.

After all the deductions, however, which can fairly be
made from his merits, these stand high indeed, and leave

LAVOISIER. 275

his renown as brilliant as that of any one who has
ever cultivated physical science. The overthrow of the
Phlogiston Theory, and the happy generalizations upon
the combinations of bodies, which we owe to his genius
for philosophical research, are sufficient to place him
among the" first, perhaps to make him be regarded as the
first reformer of chemical science, the principal founder
of that magnificent fabric which now fills so ample a
space in the eye of every student of nature.

T 2

276 LAVOISIER.

APPENDIX.

Acids known to contain no Oxygen.

Muriatic acid, (Hydro-chloric; Chlorine and Hydrogen.)
Prussic acid, (Hydro-cyanic ; Hydrogen, Nitrogen and Car-
bon.)
Bromine.

Hydro-Bromic acid, (Bromine and Hydrogen.)
Fluoric acid, (Fluorine and Hydrogen.)
Ferro-cyanic acid, (Iron, Azote, Carbon and Hydrogen.)
Sulpho-cyanic, (Sulphur, Azote, Carbon and Hydrogen.)
Hydriodic, (Iodine and Hydrogen.)
Hydro-selenic, (Selenium and Hydrogen.)

Acids known to contain Hydrogen with or without Oxygen.

Muriatic, (or Formic. Acetic.

Hydro-chloric.) Oleic. Tartaric.

Prussic, (Hydro- Stearic. Citric.

cyanic.) Capric. Malic.

Hydro-bromic. Butyric Benzoic.

Hydro-fluoric. Crotonic. Gallic.

Hydriodic. Racemic. Succinic.

Hydro-selenic. Cetic. Saccholactic.

Ferro-cyanic. Cholesteric.

Sulpho-cyanic. Ambreic.

And at least 150 more; as oxalic is perhaps the only
vegetable acid which has no hydrogen.

FHE

PUBLIC LIB;-

'Of?, LEIJOX AND
lO'.-iS.

©• H IB IB ©

.. 2846.

( 277 )

GIBBON.

THE biography of illustrious men, men whose history
is intimately connected either with the political events
of their times, or with the progress of science or of learn-
ing, has ever been deemed one of the most useful as well
as delightful departments of literature; nor does it
yield to any in the capacity of conveying the most
important instruction in every department of know-
ledge. It has accordingly been cultivated in all ages by
the most eminent men. Invaluable contributions to it
have been afforded by the individuals themselves whose
lives were to be recorded. Their correspondence with
familiar friends is one source of our knowledge regarding
them; nay, it may almost be termed a branch of auto-
biography. Who does not value Cicero's letters above
most of his works? Who does not lament that those of
Demosthenes are not more numerous and better authen-
ticated? But some have been in form, as well as in sub-
stance, their own biographers. Nor does any one accuse
Hume and Gibbon of an undue regard to their own
fame, or of assuming arrogantly a rank above their real
importance, when they left us the precious histories of
their lives. On the contrary, their accounts of other
men contain few pages more valuable to the cause of

278 GIBBON.

truth than those which they have left of their owu
studies, " Ac plerique suani ipsi vitam narrare, fiduciam
potius morum quam arrogantiam arbitrati sunt: nee id
Rutilio et Scauro citra fidem ant obtrectationi fuit. Adeo
virtutes iisdeni temporibus optiine sestimantur quibus
facillime gignuntur." (Tacit. ' Vit. Ag.' cap. i.)

Guided in part by the light of his own description, in
part by that which his correspondence sheds, we have
traced the history of one of these great historians. We
are now to follow that of the other with similar advan-
tages from the lights of his own pen.

Edward Gibbon was descended from a considerable
and ancient family settled in the county of Kent, and
landowners there as early as the beginning of the four-
teenth century. Their respectability may be judged
from the circumstance that in Edward III.'s reign John
Gibbon, the head of the house, was king's architect, and
received the grant of a hereditary toll in Stonar Passage,
as a reward for the construction of Queenborough Castle.
One of the family, in Henry the Sixth's reign, married
Fiennes, Lord Say and Sele, the Lord High Treasurer;
and from him the historian descended in the eleventh
generation, belonging to a younger branch of the Gibbons
which settled in London in the reign of James L, and
engaged in commerce. His grandfather acquired in these
pursuits considerable wealth, and was at the end of
Queen Anne's reign commissioner of the customs, to-
gether with Prior the poet. His family had always been
of the Tory party, and his promotion came from the
Queen's Tory Ministry. In 1716 he became a director of
the South Sea Company, and he was proved to have then
been possessed of above a hundred thousand pounds, all

GIBBON. 279

of which he lost, except a pittance granted by the authors
of the violent proceedings that confiscated the estates of
the directors; one of the most flagrant acts of injustice,
and ex post facto legislation, of which history affords any
record. All were compelled to disclose their property ;
exorbitant security for their appearance was exacted;
they were restrained from making any mortgage or
transfer or exchange. They prayed to be heard against
the bill; this prayer was refused; three-and-thirty per-
sons were condemned, absent and unheard; the pittance
allotted to each was made the subject of unfeeling jest ;
motions to give one a pound, another a shilling, were
made; the most absurd tales were told, and eagerly
believed, resting on no kind of proof, and on these the
votes of the House of Commons were passed. The out-
rages of despots in barbarous countries and dark ages
seldom can go beyond this parliamentary proceeding of
a popular legislature in a civilized community and an
enlightened age, the country of Locke, Newton, Somers,
and while yet their immortal names shed a lustre on the
eighteenth century of the Christian era. Nor is it pos-
sible to contemplate this legislative enormity without re-
flecting on the infirm title of the very lawgivers who per-
petrated it. The act was one passed in 1 720 by the first
septennial Parliament during the four years which it had
added to its lawful existence, having been chosen in 1715
for only three years, and extended its existence to
seven. It is a creditable thing to the historian that,
believing the Protestant succession to have been saved
(as it certainly was) by that measure, he always gave his
vote against its repeal. Nor was the spirit of the people
more inclined to justice than that of their unchoseu

280 GIBBON.

representatives. Whatever may have been the unpopu-
larity of the original Septennial Act in those Jacobite
times, the violence done to the South Sea Directors was
amply justified by the public voice. Complaints were
indeed made, and loudly ; but it was of the mercy shewn
to those whom the fury of disappointed speculators
called " monsters," " traitors," " the cannibals of Change
Alley." Their blood was called for in a thousand
quarters ; and the shame of the Parliament was loudly
proclaimed to be, that no one had been hanged for the
crime of having engaged in an unsuccessful adventure.
So regardless of all reason and justice, and even common
sense, is the accursed thirst of gold that raises the daemon
of commercial gambling!

When Mr. Gibbon's fortune, amounting to 106,000/.,
was confiscated, two sums being proposed as his allow-
ance, fifteen thousand and ten thousand, the smaller was
immediately adopted; but his life being prolonged for
sixteen years, his industry was so fruitful that he left
nearly as large a fortune as the violence of Parliament
had robbed him of. Dying in 1736, he left the his-
torian's father, his son, and two daughters, one of whom
married Mr. Elliott of Cornwall, afterwards Lord Elliott.
The celebrated author of the ' Serious Call/ William
Law, lived as tutor in the family, and is supposed to
have designed the son by the name of Flatus in that
popular work. A lady of the family still settled in
Kent, married Mr. Yorke Gibbon, the father of Lord
Hardwick; and by another, the historian was related to
the Actons, who afterwards settled in Naples.

The estates left by the Director were situate at Putney
in Surrey, and in Hampshire, near Petersfield, in which

GIBBON. 281

lie possessed so large an influence that his son repre-
sented it in Parliament. Edward the historian was born
at Putney, April 27, 1737, his mother being a daughter
of Mr. Porten, a merchant in London, who lived near the
church of that village. Mr. Gibbon afterwards sat for
Southampton, and continued in Parliament until 1747.
Edward's infancy was exceedingly delicate, and his life
with difficulty preserved. He was treated with unceasing
care by his maternal aunt, Mrs. Catharine Porten ; and it
was not easy to teach him reading, writing, and accounts,
though quick enough of capacity. At seven years of age
he was placed under John Kirkby, a poor Cumberland
curate, as private tutor, and author of some popular
works; and two years after, he was sent to a private
academy, kept by a Dr. Wooddeson, at Kingston. Next
year his mother died, and soon after her father became
bankrupt ; so that his kind aunt was driven from Putney
to keep a boarding-house at Westminster School, and
his father, inconsolable for his wife's death, left Surrey
to bury himself in his Hampshire property. Mrs. Porten
took her sickly nephew with her to Westminster, where,
in the course of two years, he " painfully ascended into
the third form." But his health continued so feeble, that
it became necessary to remove him, and he was consigned
to the care of a female servant at Bath. As his six-
teenth year approached he became much more robust,
and he was placed under Mr. Francis, Sir Philip's
father, who then taught at Esher in Surrey. Soon, how-
ever, his relations found that the ill-principled tutor
preferred the pleasures of London to the duties of his
school; and they removed his pupil to Oxford, where
he was entered as a gentleman-commoner of Magdalen

282 GIBBON.

College, 2nd April, 1752, a few weeks before he had
completed his fifteenth year.

Hitherto it may truly be said, that, partly from his
feeble health, partly from the neglect of his instructors, he
had been taught little, and left to acquire information
either by his own efforts or the conversation of his excel-
lent aunt. Fortunately she was a well-read person, of
sound judgment, and correct taste; and she delighted to
direct, and to form his mind by pointing out the best
books, and helping him to understand them. His read-
ing, however, was necessarily desultory, and in the classics
he made but an inconsiderable progress, although he had
acquired a competent knowledge of the Latin tongue.
But the bent of his inclination had already disclosed
itself. While he read other books, he devoured histories.
The ' Universal History' was then in the course of publica-
tion, and he eagerly pored over the volumes as they suc-
cessively appeared. In the summer of 1751, he accom-
panied his father on a visit to Mr. Hoare, in Wiltshire,
and finding in the library the continuation of Echard's
'Roman History/ he was deeply immersed in it when
summoned to dinner. Returning to Bath, he obtained
that portion of Howell's 'History of the World/ containing
the Byzantine period; and he soon had traversed the
whole field of oriental story — nay, more, he had studied
the geography connected with that history, and had
examined the different chronological systems which bore
upon the subject; those of Scaliger, and Petavius, of
Marsham, and Newton; which of course he could only
know at second-hand; and he arrived at Oxford before
the age of fifteen complete, with a stock of erudition,
which, he says, might have puzzled a Doctor, and a degree

GIBBON. 283

of ignorance, of which, he ingenuously confesses, a school-
boy would have been ashamed.

Being entered a gentleman-commoner of his College,
he at once from a boy was transformed into a man, in so
far as regarded the persons with whom he associated,
the respect with which he was treated, and the indepen-
dence which he enjoyed. The picture which he has left
us of the studies at that time pursued, the discipline of
the place, and the assiduity of the teachers, is very far
indeed from flattering. The account given by Adam
Smith, and which has been the subject of so much
ignorant, so much prejudiced, and, I fear we must add,
so much interested vituperation, is more than fully borne
out by Gibbon's testimony. Under Dr. Waldegrave, his
first tutor, he learnt little; but he delighted in that
reverend person's conversation. Under the successor,
whose name is charitably withheld, he learnt nothing;
paying the salary and only receiving a single lesson.
The sum of his obligations to the University is stated to
be the reading, without any commentary or explanation,
three or four plays of Terence in fourteen months of
academical study. Meanwhile his habits became irre-
gular and expensive, and no effort whatever was made to
prevent him from falling into idle and even vicious courses,
or to reclaim him after he had gone astray. No care
whatever was given to his religious instruction; and
as he always had a turn for controversial discussion, he
soon fell, thus abandoned, into a snare too often spread
for neglected youth, too easily effectual to their ruin.
The study of Middleton's 'Free Inquiry/ made him con-
found the Protestant with the Popish dogmas; and,
induced by Mr. Molesworth, a friend who had embraced

284 GIBBON.

Romanism, he, after a short interval of hesitation, em-
braced the principles, and bowed to the authority of an
infallible church. He became reconciled to Rome, could
not again return to the orthodox, but Protestant shades of
Magdalen, and was sent to Lausanne by his father ; after
an ill-judged attempt to reclaim him, by placing him
under the superintendence of Mallet, the poet, who with
his wife had thrown off all Christianity, perhaps even all
religion whatever.

In contemplating the account given both by Smith
and Gibbon, of the great University, in which both re-
sided without being instructed, the friend of education
feels it gratifying to reflect that the picture which both
have left, and the latter especially, finds no resemblance
in the Alma Mater of the Hollands, the Cannings, the Car-
lisles, the Wards, the Peels. The shades of Oxford under
the Jacksons, the AVetherells, the Coplestones, (friendly,
learned, honoured name, which I delight to bring into
contrast with the neglectful tutors of Gibbon,) bears no
more resemblance to that illustrious seat of learning
in his time, than the Cambridge of the Aireys, the Her-
schells, the Whewells, the Peacocks, the Gaskins, offers
to the Cambridge in which Playfair might afterwards,
with justice, lament, that the Mecanique Celeste could no
longer find readers in the haunts where Newton had
once taught, and where his name only was since known.

At Lausanne Gibbon was placed under the care of
M. Pavilliard, a pious and well-informed Calvinist minister,
who, by gentle and rational discipline, brought him back
to the Protestant faith, of which he testified his deli-
berate approval by receiving the Sacrament, Christmas,
1754. M. Pavilliard also successfully guided his studies

GIBBON. 285

during five of the most important years of his life. In
the Latin Classics he made a great and easy progress ; he
began the study of the Greek; he learned the outlines
of general knowledge, and as much of natural science as
he ever had any taste or capacity to master. His active
mind had even entered into speculations connected with
literary subjects; and he corresponded with Crevier,
Gesner, and other men of letters, on points connected
with the higher departments of classical learning. French
literature occupied naturally a considerable share of his
attention in a country where that language alone was
spoken, and where Voltaire resided. At the private
theatre of the patriarch he was a frequent attendant,
and heard the poet declaim his own fine verse ; but he
confesses that he was never distinguished in the number
of the admirers who crowded those assemblies, or in the
more select circle which frequented the hospitable table
of the great poet.

Beside his study of the Classics and of the French
authors, he exercised himself in composition, and ac-
quired great facility both in writing English and French,
and even Latin, by translating and retranslating from
the three languages. But the chief portion of his time
was devoted to a careful perusal of the great Latin
authors, all of whom he most diligently examined with
the aid of their commentators, and all of whom he
abstracted generally in his journal. After carefully
going through Cicero's whole works with the variorum
notes of Verburgius's folio edition, he completed the other
and more laborious branch of this extensive plan during
the last twenty-seven months of his residence at Lau-
sanne. There is hardly upon record so diligent a pre-

286 GIBBON.

paration for literary exertion; and be it observed, that
though he had now attained and passed his twenty-first
year with habits of study well fitted to excite emulation
and urge the boldness of youth into attempts at obtain-
ing literary fame, or at least into experimental trials of
his strength, he passed all the tune of his studious resi-
dence at Lausanne without any effort of composition,
and never seems to have thought of becoming an author
after the boyish essay on the Age of Socrates, which he
had made during his first Oxford vacation, and which he
afterwards committed to the flames.

It was during this period of his life, alike happy and
useful, that he became, or dreamt he became, enamoured
of Mile. Curchod, daughter of a venerable pastor. She
returned his flame ; but on his father very peremptorily
" forbidding the banns," alarmed it should seem quite as
much with this Calvinistic as he had before been with
the Romish conversion, the dutiful son broke off the
connexion in a letter, which ended with, " C'est pour quoi,
Mile., J'ai 1'honneur d'etre votre tres-humble et tres-
obeissant serviteur, E. G.;" and which forms one of the
reasons why I have expressed some doubt of his really
having felt the heat of the tender passion. The story is
often told of his bodily weakness having, when on the
floor at her feet, prevented him from rising, and his
bodily weight kept her from assisting him, so that the bell
was resorted to, in order that extraneous help might be
procured in the dilemma. Be this as it may, the lady
was reserved for a higher destiny. She became the wife

* This curious particular is not given by himself, but by his
friend, M. Suard.— (' Memoire.')

GIBBON. 287

of Necker, soon after the first minister of France ; and no
preceding circumstance ever prevented her first admirer
from continuing to be her respected and intimate friend
in her exaltation.

But he formed another friendship at Lausanne, which
proved much more important to his happiness through
life. He became intimately acquainted, from similarity
of age, disposition, and pursuits, with M. Deyverdun, a
young man of respectable family, amiable character, and
good education. Their correspondence continued ever
after to be familiar and pleasing; and the loss of his
society was the principal, if not the only regret which
Gibbon felt when his return to England took place.

This happened in May, 1758, by the consent of his
father, who received him with perfect kindness, unabated
by the second marriage which he had recently contracted.
His stepmother was a woman of amiable character and
of excellent sense; and a lasting friendship appears to
have subsisted between them during her whole life. His
kind aunt, however, Mrs. Porten, was naturally the first
object of his affections, and to her he hastened upon his
arrival. The principal evil which attended his long
exile was, that at the important age when accidental
circumstances are so plastic in forming the habits, he
had ceased to be an Englishman. He wrote, spoke, and
thought in a foreign language; and as his allowance was
too moderate to suffer any expense not absolutely neces-
sary, he never had associated with his countrymen who
passed through or sojourned in Switzerland. On his
return home, therefore, he found himself as a stranger in
a far country ; and as his father, now residing chiefly at
Buriton in Hampshire, had long given up all connexion

288 GIBBON.

with London society, the son seems, during the nine
months that he passed there of the first two years after
his arrival, to have been only intimate with the Mallets
and with Lady Harvey, (the present Lord Bristol's grand-
mother,) to whom they had introduced him. At Buri-
ton, too, he enjoyed the pleasures of a large library; he
resumed his classical studies; he read, he abridged and
he commented; finally he turned his thoughts towards
composition. Mallet advised him to study Swift and
Addison ; he studied them and he admired, but he ran
counter in every one particular to their example ; and in
1761 he published his essay 'Sur 1'Etude de la Littera-
ture,' the work of about six weeks nearly two years
before, but withheld from the press through dread of its
failure.

Though no one can deny that this work shews both
extensive reading and a habit of thinking, and though
it is the production unquestionably of a clever man, yet
must we admit it to be in some most essential particulars
singularly defective, and, in some respects, rather a
puerile performance. The cardinal fault is the want of
any definite object. Who can tell what the author
would be at, if it be not to display his reading, his epi-
grammatic talent, and his facility in writing French ?
It is said, in the address to the reader, that the author's
design was to "vindicate a favourite study, and rescue
it from the contempt under which it was languishing."
But what is the favourite study? Literature means the
whole of learning in one sense ; and, in a more restricted
acceptation, it means learning apart from science. But
what occasion to vindicate learning 1 Who accused, who
contemned it, at least in the middle of the eighteenth

GIBBON. 289

century ? The vindicator came five or six hundred
years too late to the defence. The champion hastened
to the rescue long after the fight was over, and was won.
His ancient reading might have reminded him of things
out of time and things out of place. Learning might
be figured addressing him with thanks, and, also, in her
turn, vindicating him from the charge of not knowing
his alphabet, as Tiberius condoled with some tardy
addressers from Troy, on the occasion of his son's death,
by condoling with them on the loss of their distinguished
countryman Hector. A bystander might have applied
to his panegyric on Letters the question put to the
eulogist of Hercules.

Gibbon, himself, seems fully aware of the radical
defect in his work, that he applies the term "literature"
loosely and variously, instead of giving it a definite
sense. If classical learning be the principal subject of
his remarks, it is equally certain that he sets out with
resting the glory of man upon his achievements in the
sciences, and soon declares his regret that mathematics
and physics should have in modern times thrown the
sister branches of philosophy into the shade. His obser-
vations, too, are scattered over the whole range of know-
ledge, and not always confined to the knowledge of the
ancients. But suppose they were \ Who can draw the
line between ancient and modern, or suppose that the
study of the poets, the orators, the historians, the philo-
sophers of antiquity, can be different from the general
study of poetry, rhetoric, history, and philosophy? He
is himself quite conscious of the total want of arrange-
ment that pervades his work. "A number," he says,
"of remarks and examples, historical, critical, philoso-

u

290 GIBBON.

pkical, are heaped on each other without method or
connexion, and, if we except some introductory pages,
all the remaining chapters might indifferently be reversed
or transposed." ('Life/ chap, v.) Though his candour
be deserving of our approbation, and though we must
also agree in his observation that "the imitation of
Montesquieu has been fatal/' there is little chance of any
one subscribing to the complacency with which he regards
his obstinate defence of the early history of Rome. As-
suredly nothing can be less creditable to his sagacity;
nor can one so difficult on severe subjects of belief be
excused for so easily swallowing down the poetical fictions
of the earlier Roman annals.

The folly of choosing to write in a foreign language
he hardly excuses by saying, that it was partly with a
view of furthering the plan of his father to obtain some
diplomatic appointment, but chiefly from the vanity of
being a singular instance in this kind. The success,
however, of the publication abroad was aided by this
circumstance, but it was not sufficiently great to justify
the author; while at home the work could not be said
to have any success at all. It was little read beyond
the circle of the writer's few friends, and it was very
speedily forgotten.

A short time before this publication, June, 1759, he
had joined the Hampshire militia as captain, his father
having the rank of major. During two years and a half,
that is, till the end of the war, he was thus condemned,
he says, "to a wandering life of military servitude."
He complains of the loss of precious time thus occa-
sioned, and the souring of the temper by ruder intercourse
without any adequate compensation for either evil, beyond

GIBBON. 291

the restoring him to English habits and rubbing away
the foreign rust of his Swiss education. It is singular
enough that, at the close of this long and thankless inter-
ruption, on his resuming his studious habits, he hesitated
between Greek and Mathematics, when a letter of Mr.
Scott (whom I have mentioned in the life of his teacher
Simson*) traced to him a map of the country, which
seems to have appeared too rocky and arid for his taste.
He now, therefore, applied himself to Greek, which he
had hitherto almost entirely neglected, having only
as yet formed any acquaintance with the monuments
of the Attic and the Doric genius through the medium
of general descriptions, or through the imperfect reflexion
of translations, that preserve not all of the substance
and nothing whatever of the diction. His characteristic
industry soon accomplished the task of introducing him
to the father of poetry; whose immortal song Scaliger
had read through in twenty-one days, but with Gibbon's
more imperfect knowledge of the Homeric language its
perusal occupied as many weeks. He read almost the
whole of the Iliad twice in the same year, beside some
books of the Odyssey and Longinus's treatise. The other
books which he read at the same time were more or less
connected with Greek learning.

During the time spent in the militia, he had frequently
revolved in his mind the plan of some historical work,
and had successively chosen as his subjects, the Expedi-
tion of Charles VIII. into Italy, respecting which he
went so far as to discuss at large that Prince's title to
the crown of Naples, contrasted with the rival claims of

* Vol. I., Lives of Philosophers.

U 2

292 WBBON.

the Houses of Anjou and Aragon — the wars of the Eng-
lish Barons — the lives of the Black Prince, of Sir Philip
Sidney, and of Montrose; but he at length fixed on
Raleigh, and read with diligence all the works which treat
of that remarkable person. After much preparatory
labour, he abandoned the design, and thought of the
Swiss Confederacy, and of Florence under the Medicis ;
but before he finally settled to either subject, he went
abroad for two years and a half, passing tliree or four
months at Paris, in the most interesting society, and
nearly a year at Lausanne, before he crossed the Alps —

" Filled with the visions of fair Italy."

For this important expedition he prepared himself
with all his wonted industry. He diligently studied the
greater classics; he examined all that the best writers
had collected on the topography of Ancient Rome, on
Italian geography, and on Medals, going carefully
through Nardiui, Donatus, Spanheim, D'Anville, Beaufort,
Cluverius, and other modern writers, as well as Strabo,
Pliny, and Pomponius Mela, and he filled a large common-
place book with notes and extracts, as well as disquisitions
on important passages of Roman antiquities and history.
Thus furnished perhaps better than any other traveller
ever was for his expedition, he fared forth in the spring
of 1764-

"To happy convents, bosomed deep in vines,
Where slumber Abbots purple as their wines;
To isles of fragrance, lily-silvered vales,
Diffusing languor on the panting gales;
To lands of singing or of dancing slaves —
Love-whispering woods, and lute-resounding waves ;
But chief her court where naked Venus keeps,
And Cupids ride the Lion of the deeps." — Dunciad.

GIBBON. 293

The greater number of the Italian cities he visited, but
it was in Rome that he made the longest stay, remaining
there between four and five months of the eleven which
he passed beyond the Alps. It was also at Rome that
he formed the plan of writing his great work. The idea
entered his mind while, "on the 15th of October, he sat
musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while bare-footed
friars were singing vespers in the Temple of Jupiter/'
('Life/ chap, vi.,) — a striking picture surely, and one in
which the image of the Roman Decline and Fall appears
to be shadowed forth with sufficient distinctness. To the
original idea, indeed, it was still more akin : for he at
first only contemplated a History of the Eternal City's
decay.

His second visit to Lausanne had given him the im-
portant accession to his comfort of Lord Sheffield's
acquaintance, then Mr. Holroyd, who accompanied him
into Italy, and proved ever after his most intimate and
confidential friend. He was a person of cultivated mind,
but filled more with details than with principles, and
those details relating to statistics and commercial facts,
rather than to the more classical pursuits of Gibbon.
His opinions were framed 011 a contracted scale, and the
matters presented by the old and unphilosophical
school. He had no genius in his views, no point or spirit
in his composition ; he frequently, however, addressed his
moderate number of readers through the press, each com-
mercial question, as it were, producing a work of accurate
detail, of narrow views, of inconsistent reasoning, and of
unreadable clryness. But his life of bad pamphlets was
varied by a gallant resistance, which he made at the head
of his Yeomanry Cavalry, to the No-Popery mob of

294 GIBBON.

1780, and he also had the good taste to cultivate the
society of abler and more lettered men, in consequence
probably of his intimacy with Gibbon, who, during the
twenty years of his life passed in England after his
return from Italy, was domesticated in the Holroyd
family. He was also returned to Parliament by Bris-
tol, after Burke's opposition to the American war had
caused his rejection by that city; and having mar-
ried one of Lord North's amiable and gifted daughters,
he supported the measures of that able, though unfor-
tunate statesman, and was by him raised to the Irish
peerage. Whatever may have been his deficiencies as a
political writer, in his personal and domestic character he
was blameless; and the constancy of his attachment to
his celebrated friend was a source of comfort and of
credit to both.

On his return in June, 1765, Gibbon resumed the
domestic relations which his travels had only interrupted,
and found great satisfaction in the friendship of his own
family, especially of his step-mother, an amiable, kindly,
and sensible woman. His only real business, however,
was the yearly attendance on his militia regiment, in
which he rose successively to the rank of Major and
Lieutenant-Colonel Commandant. But though this occu-
pation only lasted a month, he found it became intoler-
able, and in 1770 resigned his commission. He describes
these five years between his return and his father's death,
which happened soon after his resignation, as the most
irksome of his life. And the void which he felt from
want of regular and professional employment, he has
described in such a way, that the record thus left ought for
ever to deter men from embracing a merely literary life,

GIBBON. 295

whose circumstances are not such as to make its gains,
its moderate and precarious gains, a matter of necessary
consideration. He enjoyed fully the ease of comfortable,
though not of luxurious, or even affluent circumstances;
he had a cheerful home, and if without the interest, was
also free from the cares of a family ; his time was at his
own command ; and he lived in a library while at Buriton,
and in the best society when in London. Yet listen to
his moan over the want of that sovereign authority which a
social position exercises, but so as to make its service perfect
freedom compared with the slavery of nullity and ennui.
" While so many of my acquaintance were married, or in
Parliament, or advancing with a rapid step in the various
roads of honour and fortune, I stood alone immovable
and insignificant." — " I lamented that at the proper age
I had not embraced the lucrative pursuits of the law of
trade, the chances of civil office or India adventure, or
even the fat slumbers of the Church ; and my repentance
became more lively as the loss of time was more irre-
trievable. Experience showed me the use of grafting my
private consequence on the importance of a great pro-
fessional body; the benefits of these form connexions
which are cemented by hope and interest, by gratitude
and emulation, by the mutual exchange of services and
favour." (' Life,' chap, viii.) Then were not the occupa-
tions of his studious hours, and especially of his projected
works, enough to fill up his time and satisfy his mind?
We saw him but lately seated on the Capitol, niulta et
prseclara minantem. Had all these plans vanished with-
out producing any fruit ? Not so ; he had, in the society
of his earliest and most cherished friend Deyverdun, who
by yearly visits served to break the monotony of his
superabundant leisure, commenced more literary works

296 GIBBON.

than one. The History of Switzerland was chosen for
one subject; and the two friends made considerable
preparation for its composition by collecting materials,
which, when in German, were diligently translated by
Deyverdun for the use of Gibbon, to whom the compo-
sition was in 1767 consigned. He produced the first
book of the History; it was submitted to the judgment
of a society of literary foreigners ; the author, unknown to
them, was present ; he heard their sentence of condemna-
tion with pain, but confirmed it in his cooler moments.
It was, however, afterwards submitted to a better judge ;
Mr. Hume approved of it in all respects but the foreign
language employed, and strongly recommended a con-
tinuation of the work. Gibbon himself, however, sided
with the court below, and says in his ' Life' that he com-
mitted the manuscript to the flames. This he neglected
to do ; and though Lord Sheffield in a note has expressed
an opinion coinciding with Hume's, he is thought to have
destroyed it, possibly from respect for his friend's
declared intentions*.

Another work was planned and partly executed during
the same period. Gibbon and Deyverdun published in
the two years 1767 and 1768 an annual review, entitled
' Memoires Litteraires de la Grande Bretagne.' To the
first volume Gibbon contributed, among other papers, an
excellent review of Lyttleton's ' History of Henry II.,' at
once acute, candid, and judicious. The second was
adorned with an article on ' Walpole's Historical Doubts,'
from the pen of Mr. Hume. The dedication to Lord
Chesterfield obtained for Deyverdun the appointment of

; Some believe that it is still among the Gibbon papers, the
publication of which Lord Sheffield, by his will, positively
prohibited.

GIBBON. 297

tutor to his successor, the late Earl ; and when a third
volume was nearly ready for publication he went abroad
with the care of Sir Richard Worsley, and did not return
till after the death of Gibbon's father.

A third work also bears date in the same period of
listlessness and discontent. It was an answer to War-
burton's dream respecting the Sixth Book of the ^neid ;
and though tinged with a bitterness of spirit to which no
anonymous writer should give way, all competent judges
have admitted the victory over insolent and dogmatic
paradox to have been complete. This was his first pub-
lication in his native tongue, and, except his contributions
to the periodical work, it was his only appearance through
the press during the fifteen years that had elapsed since
his Essay came out.

Thus there was no want of either study or literary
labour to diversify the learned leisure which yet he found
so irksome. The contrast is surpassingly remarkable,
which his description presents to the account which
D'Alernbert has left us, of the calm pleasures enjoyed by
him as long as he confined himself to geometrical pur-
suits. Shall we ascribe this diversity to the variety of
individual character and tastes; or to the difference in
the nature of those literary occupations ; or finally to the
peculiarities of French society, affording, as it does, daily
occupation too easy to weary, and pleasing relaxation too
temperate to cloy ? Perhaps partly to each of the three
causes, but most of all to the absorbing nature of the
geometrician's studies. It seems certain, however, that
no life of mere literary indulgence, of study unmingled
with exertion, and with continued, regular exertion, can
ever be passed in tolerable contentment; and that if the
student has not a regular, and, as it were, a professional

298 GIBBON.

occupation to fill up the bulk of his time, he must make to
himself the only substitute for it by engaging in some
long and laborious work. Gibbon found by experience
the necessity of some such resource ; and we owe to his
sense of it, the ' Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.'
The preparations for this great work were made with
deliberate care; but the composition was deferred for
several years, by the anxieties which his father's declining
circumstances as well as health occasioned. After many
vain efforts to mend his fortune by loans, and by parting
with the residence at Putney, all of which means were
generously seconded by the son, he died in 1770, partly
from mental suffering ; and it was not till two years had
elapsed, that the heir of a fortune, now become moderate,
could finally close the farming concerns of the family and
transfer his residence from Hampshire to London. At
length, in 1772, he began the work, and so little did he
find it easy to "hit the middle tone between a dull
chronicle and a rhetorical declamation," that the first
chapter was thrice, and the two following ones were
twice composed, before he could be satisfied with the
effect. Possibly had he given the same careful revision
to the subsequent chapters we should have seen a style
more chastened; and if his very defective taste in com-
position had retained the weeds which he took for
flowers, at least such confused metaphors would have been
extirpated, as " the aspect of Greek emperors towards the
Pope being the thermometer of their prosperity, and the
scale of their dynasty," (ch. Ixvi.) — and " a ray of light
proceeding from the darkness of the tenth century ;" and
such enigmatical wrapping up of his meaning, as " the
kindred appellation of Scsevola being illustrated by three
sages of the law." (ch. xliv.) Certain it is that the

GIBBON. 299

three first chapters are beyond all comparison the most
chastely composed of the whole seventy-one.

After three years bestowed upon this work, the
appearance of which was somewhat delayed by his being
in 1774 returned to Parliament for his cousin Mr.
Elliott's borough of Liskeard, the first volume, in quarto,
was published in the month of February, 1776. Its
success was complete. The praise of Mr. Strahan, which
Lord Sheffield greatly values, is not indeed of the most
enlightened cast. He extols the diction as " the most
correct, most elegant, and most expressive he ever read."
But the opinion of the two great historians of the age
was more judicious, and it was very favourable. Dr.
Robertson, while he objected to some passages as too
laboured, and to others as too quaint, praised the
general flow of the language, and the peculiar happiness
of many expressions; and having read the work with a
constant reference to the original authorities, he com-
mends his accuracy, as he does his great industry. He
likewise bestows praise on the narrative as perspicuous
and interesting; and he terms the style generally
elegant and forcible. Of the two last chapters, the
fifteenth and sixteenth, he merely says he has not yet
read them, but from what he has heard, expects they will
give great offence and injure the. success of the book.
Mr. Hume still more lavishly extols the work; and of
the style he commends the dignity, without taking the
exceptions which his own very superior taste must have
suggested. Of the two last chapters, he says that the
author has extricated himself as well as he could
by observing a very prudent temperament; he warns
him, however, of the clamour which was sure to arise

300 GIBBON.

upon them, and gives a very dismal prediction of the
downfall of philosophy, and decrease of taste, which the
prevalence of superstition in England was likely to bring
about. He also expresses his astonishment that a clas-
sical work should have appeared in a country so given
up to " barbarous and absurd faction, and so totally
neglecting all polite letters." The reception of his own
history in all likelihood was present to his memory when
he took these gloomy views. He urges Gibbon to con-
tinue the work, which he says the learned men of Edin-
burgh are most anxious to see completed, and mournfully
observes, that he speaks without any personal interest, as
he cannot expect to see the fulfilment of these wishes.
In fact he died a few months after the date of the letter,.
(March, 1776.)*

* My learned, able and reverend friend, Mr. Milman, (to whose
admirable edition alone I refer in this work,) departing from his
wonted and very signal candour, adds a note to the Principal's letter
intimating that " his prudential civility is not quite honest," in refer-
ence to the passage regarded by Mr. M. as a suppressed opinion, on
the celebrated chapters. My knowledge of Dr. Robertson's strict
and most scrupulous veracity, makes it quite clear to me that the
fact was as he stated it, and that to avoid controversy, (a thing he ex-
ceedingly disliked on all occasions, but especially on matters so inter-
esting to his feelings as the truths of Christianity,) he had purposely
written his letter before he perused those portions of the volume.
Surely he might be excused for not expressing his dissent from or dis-
approval of the chapters, when it was notorious to all mankind that
he had himself discussed the same subject, but with the views of a
sincere believer, in the famous Sermon so often referred to by M.
Guizot, in his Notes, as containing an anticipated refutation of Gib-
bon,— notes inserted by Mr. Milman himself in his edition of the
History. It might as well be supposed that Mr. Hume differed with
Gibbon, because he does not express any concurrence or any ap-
proval, except of the prudence of the manner, as that Dr. Robertson

GIBBON. 301

The public voice amply confirmed these important and
learned judgments. The first edition of a thousand was
exhausted in a few days ; two others scarcely supplied
the demand; and the Dublin pirates twice invaded the
copyright. The volume, moreover, was to be seen not
only in the studies of the learned, but in the drawing-
rooms of the idle and the gay. On the other hand, the
violence of theological controversy was speedily excited
by the two chapters ; and adversaries of various ranks in
the Church, and of every degree of merit, hastened to the
conflict, from Lord Hailes and Dr. Watson, afterwards
Bishop of Llandaff, down to Mr. Ohelsum., a feeble but
violent divine, and Taylor, an Arian minister, Vicar of
Portsmouth, and alike wrongheaded and enthusiastic.
Gibbon admits that for a while the noise stunned him,
but he soon found that his antagonists were, with a very
few exceptions, far too little prepared for the combat, by
the possession of any weapons save zeal, to occasion him
any harm, and he resolved to maintain silence and leave
his defence to time, and to the body of those readers
who had studied his work. This reserve he continued
until his veracity was attacked by the charge of false
quotations, and then he published his ' Vindication.' Of
that work the reverend editor of his Life and History
well observes, that "this single discharge from the pon-
derous artillery of learning and sarcasm laid prostrate

agreed with him, or did not disapprove the line which he had pur-
sued. Both these great historians assumed that their opinions on
the matter must be well known, and could not be mistaken by those
their letters were addressed to, Mr. Hume's being written to Gibbon
himself, and Dr. Robertson's to Mr. Strahan, the publisher of his
celebrated Sermon.

302 GIBBON.

the whole disorderly squadron of rash and feeble volun-
teers who filled the ranks of his enemies, while the more
distinguished theological writers of the country stood
aloof." (' Life,' ch. ix., note 3.)

Two years elapsed between the publication of the
first and the commencement of the second volume. His
curiosity had induced him to attend courses of lectures
in anatomy under Dr. William Hunter, and in chemistry
under Mr. Higgins; and he read some books of natural
history. In 1771 he went to Paris, on the invitation of
his friends the Neckers, who had come over to England
on a visit, and this excursion occupied six months, which
he passed very agreeably, if not very instructively, in the
best Parisian society. He was there, from his knowledge
of the language and his early habits of foreign residence,
more at home than most other strangers who frequent
those circles, and there remain testimonies of competent
witnesses to his success. Mme. du Deffaud describes it
as very great indeed, praises his French, applauds also
the fulness of his conversation, is pleased with his man-
ners, though she complains that he is much too fond of
distinction and overrates the pleasures of French society ;
she is in some doubt if he is a very clever man, though
clear that he is a very learned one; and asserts, among
other things, that though he has not the abilities (1'es-
prit)* of Mr. Hume, "il ne tombe pas dans les memes
ridicules, inais se comporte d'une nianiere qui ne donne
point de prise au ridicule, ce qui est fort difficile a eviter

* Hume's difficulty in speaking the language, and his awkward
though simple and unaffected manners, were often the subject of
merriment at Paris ; but this very naivete contributed to the repu-
tation of " le bon David," as he was generally termed.

GIBBON. 303

dans les societes qu'il frequente." (Lett., 284.) Suard
gives more credit to his talents, but charges him with
being too prepared in his sentences and too anxious to
shine, while he allows his conversation to be full and
animated. He likewise praises the facility and correct-
ness of his French, though he spoke it with a very strong-
accent and with extremely unpleasant intonations of the
voice.

His return to Parliament somewhat delayed the first
volume, but the attendance of some stormy sessions does
not appear to have at all interrupted the further progress
of the work. And the all but sinecure place of a Lord
of Trade, which he accepted in 1779, could have very
little influence on the disposal of his time. This favour
was opportunely bestowed on him as a recompense, not
merely for his steady support in Parliament, but for his
drawing up a defence for the British Government against
the French claims in 1778 ; it was written at the request
of the Ministers, particularly Lord Thurlow, then Chan-
cellor, and was prepared in concert with the Foreign Office,
from which the materials were furnished. The work is
allowed to have been respectably executed; and the
scurrilous attack upon it by Wilkes, generally set down
to the account of factious spleen, had no success. In
1780 he lost his seat in Parliament, at the general
election ; and soon after published his second and third
volumes, which, he confesses, were by no means so well
received as the first had been. Lord North's friendship
restored him to the House of Commons as member for
Lymington, a seat which he retained until Mr. Pitt's
dissolution to defeat the famous Coalition in 1784. The
Board of Trade had been abolished some months before,

304 GIBBON.

and his income being no longer adequate to a comfort-
able residence in London, lie resolved to pass the rest of
his life at Lausanne.

After the publication of his second and third volumes,
which bring down the History to the fall of the Western
Empire at the beginning of the sixth century, he hesitated
for some months whether to continue the work or terminate
it at that period. This interval was passed in classical
studies, particularly of the Greek poets and historians, but
with excursions into the writings of the Socratic school. But

Medio de fonte leporum
Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat.

He found "in the luxury of freedom the wish for the
daily toil, the active pursuit which gave value to every
work and an object to every inquiry;" and the same
want of a regular occupation that had originally given
rise to the work determined him to continue it. Before
he left England he had nearly finished the fourth volume.
He had also been urged by the importunate zeal of Dr.
Priestley to enter into a controversy with him on the
subject of his two chapters. That indiscreet and angry
polemic sent him a copy of his work on the 'Corruptions
of Christianity/ civilly intimating that it was intended
not as a gift but as a challenge. Gibbon declined the
invitation in a sneering letter, questioning whether he or
his correspondent best deserved the name of unbeliever.
Priestley replied, that Gibbon's honour as well as his
principles called for a defence, inasmuch as he had
covertly and not with honest openness assailed Chris-
tianity. Gibbon's rejoinder declined all further corres-
pondence "with such an adversary." Priestley then
stated that their correspondence not being confidential,

GIBBON. 305

he might possibly print it. Gibbon replied, that he
alone had the right to authorize such a proceeding, and
that he withheld his consent. Priestley, on the ground
that the subject of their letters was public, asserted his
right to print them; which he did soon after Gibbon's
decease. The opinion of the world has long since been
pronounced very unanimously, that though Gibbon's
sneers were chargeable with impertinence, yet Priestley's
whole proceeding was entirely without justification, and
his reason for publishing the correspondence utterly
absurd.

In the autumn of 1783 Gibbon repaired to Lausanne,
where his friend Deyverdim had settled, and took up
his abode with him, the house belonging to the one, and
the other defraying the expense of the establishment.
A year elapsed before the change, the want of his books,
and the renewal of his long interrupted acquaintance
with his Lausanne friends allowed him to resume his
habits of regular work. Some considerable time was also
spent in determining whether when distributing his matter
on so various and often confused a subject he should
follow the chronological order of events, or "groupe the
picture by nations," and he wisely preferred the latter
course. He then began to work diligently, and finished
the fifth volume in less than two years, the sixth, and
last, in thirteen months. He must be himself allowed to
describe the conclusion of his arduous labours.

" It was," he says, " on the day, or rather the night of
the 27th of June, 1787, between the hours of eleven and
twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page in a
summer house in my garden. After laying down my
pen I took several walks in a berceau, or covered walk of

x

306 GIBBON.

acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the
lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the
sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected
from the waters, and all nature was silent." — " I will
not," he adds, " dissemble the first emotions of joy on
recovery of my freedom, and perhaps the establishment
of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a
sober melancholy was spread over my mind by the idea
that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and agree-
able companion, and that whatever might be the future
date of my History, the life of the historian must be
short and precarious." (' Life,' ch. x.)

He returned for a few months to London, in order to
superintend the publication of the last volumes. During
this visit he lived, both in Sussex and London, in the
family of Lord Sheffield, which had in some sort become
his OWE. He remained a few weeks after the publication
on his fifty-first birth-day, 27th April, 1788, for which
coincidence it was deferred a little while — a strange
arrangement, certainly, when the expediency of dispatch
had been so strongly felt as to require nine sheets a-week
from the printer and three thousand copies of each.
Before he left England he had full notice of the storm
which the infidel tendency and, still more, the indecency
of many portions of the last three volumes, raised against
him. To the former charge he had been accustomed,
and he was prepared for it ; but he expresses much sur-
prise at the second, a surprise not greater than that of
his reader, provided he be also a reader of the History.

His return to Lausanne was saddened by the de-
plorable condition in which lie found his friend Dey verdun,
reduced by repeated strokes of apoplexy to a state that

GIBBON. 307

made a prolongation of his life not desirable either for
himself or for those to whom he was dear. At his death,
a year after, he was found to have given Gibbon by his
will the option of purchasing the house and garden, or of
holding it for life at an easy price ; and he preferred the
latter arrangement, which allowed him with prudence to
lay out a considerable sum in improvements. To Dey-
verdun, whose loss left him solitary when he had been
accustomed to domestic comfort, there succeeded in his
friendship and intimacy the family of the Severys; but
though their intercourse was close, and their meeting-
daily, he sighed over the loss of a domestic society still
more constant. His chief enjoyment continued to be in
his books; nor does his time during the latter years of
his life appear to have hung heavy on his hands. The
society of Lausanne was select and agreeable; his cir-
cumstances were easy for the scale of expense in that
country, and must have been improved by the sale of his
History, though he nowhere gives us any intimation
of the sums which he received, and his editor Lord
Sheffield has not supplied the omission ; but he probably
was about the wealthiest person in Lausanne, and could
indulge, as he liked to indulge, in the pleasures of a
constant though modest hospitality. Occasional visits of
strangers varied the scene; and such as were distin-
guished, from what country soever, failed not to present
themselves at his house. He describes the visit of
Prince Henry of Prussia in autumn, 1784, as having
proved "both flattering from his affability, and enter-
taining from his conversation/' A yet more illustrious
name occurs in his account of 1788, when " Mr. Fox,
escaped from the bloody tumult of the Westminster

x 2

308 GIBBON.

election, gave him two days of his free and private
society." From ten in the morning to ten at night they
passed their time together. The conversation never
flagged for a moment; there was little of politics in it,
but he gave such a character of Pitt as one great man
should give of another, his rival. Of books they talked
much, from the History to Homer and the ' Arabian
Nights ;' much about the country and about " my garden,"
says Gibbon, " which he understands far better than I do."
-Let us dwell on the picture he has sketched with truth
of one of the most amiable of great men : — " He seemed
to feel and to envy the happiness of my situation, while
I admired the powers of a superior man, as they arc
blended in his attractive character with the softness and
simplicity of a child. Perhaps no human being was
ever more perfectly exempt from the taint of malevo-
lence, vanity, or falsehood."""'

This sketch, which adorns the ' Life', is shaded by a
dark touch or two in the ' Correspondence.' He cries out
loudly against the female accompaniment of the great
statesman's travels; asks if Fox will never learn the im-
portance of character, and, strangely enough, contrasts
him with his other friend of lesser fame certainly, though

* The likeness would be improved by substituting pride for
vanity, but still more by leaving both substantives out. It was
the saying of Fox himself, that " praise was good for the Fox
family ;" but such portion of this weakness as he had was of a very
harmless, inoffensive, even amiable cast. Another littleness of the
kind was his great love of great people, agreeably to the aristocratic
propensities of Whigs. He would speak amusingly enough of " my
friend the Duke of this," and " my friend Lord John that," when
designating persons whose title to the distinction rested on their
place in the peerage almost alone.

GIBBON. 309

of more correct demeanour, Sylvester Douglas, afterwards
Lord Gleubervie, who had in consequence left behind
him an universally favourable impression. On Fox, he
says, " the people gazed as on a prodigy, but he shewed
little inclination to converse with them;" and Gibbon
adds, that " the scandalous impropriety of shewing his
mistress to all Europe" had given much offence.

During the two or three following years, the French
Revolution drove a number, he says " a swarm," of emi-
grants to Switzerland, and Lausanne was so filled with
them that he describes the " narrow habitations of the
town and country as occupied by the first names and
titles of the departed monarchy." Among others were
the Due de Guignes and Marechal de Castries; but
Malesherbes, the Grarnmonts, Mourner, formerly President
of the National Assembly, and Lally-Tollendal, were
those whom he allowed to cultivate his acquaintance. The
Prince de Conde and Calonne passed through Lausanne
in 1790 on their way to Italy, but he was confined
with the gout and another disorder, by which he after-
wards fell. The celebrated adversary of Calonne, however,
M. Necker, he visited that year at his chateau of Coppet,
near Geneva. " I could have wished," says Gibbon, " to
have shewn him as a warning to aspiring youth possessed
with the daemon of ambition. With all the means of
present happiness in his power, he is the most miserable
of human beings; the past, the present, and the future
are equally odious to him. When I suggested some
domestic amusement of books, building, &c., he answered
with a deep tone of despair, ' Dans 1'etat ou je suis je
ne puis scntir que le coup de vent qui m'a abattu.' ;
Well may Gibbon add, " how different from the constant

310 GIBBON.

cheerfulness with which our poor friend Lord North
supported his fall." The lover of Mile. Curchod, not
unnaturally, nor jet very tenderly, or even politely,
adverts to Mine. Necker's mode of supporting the common
calamity which had exiled to their own country, from
one which they had grossly misgoverned, a wealthy, a
learned family, that affected the station of philosophers.
" She maintains more external composure, mais le diable
n'y perd rien." There follows a fair and somewhat
favourable character of this weak man. Anything more
despicable than the figure he makes in Gibbon's sketch
can hardly be conceived. The year after he again visited
Coppet frequently; and he found Necker's spirits much
restored, especially since the publication of his last book,
not the ' Bonheur des Sots/ his cleverest work, but pro-
bably his answer to Calonne's ' Compte Rendu.'

On the French Revolution Gibbon frequently expresses
his strong opinion and warm feelings in perfect accord-
ance with those of Burke ; of whom he says, " I admire
his eloquence, I approve his politics, I adore his chivalry,
and I can almost excuse his reverence for church esta-
blishments." Even when Burke's violence had spurned
all bounds of moderation, we find the historian, in refer-
ence to the famous debate of May, 1791, in his letters
exclaiming, "Poor Burke is the most eloquent and
rational madman that I ever knew. I love Fox's feel-
ings, but I doubt the political principles of the man and
of the party."

In 1791 Lord Sheffield's family paid him a visit,
passing some time with him at Lausanne, where they
found him settled in an excellent house and handsome
garden, commanding a beautiful view of the lake and the

<n * c-

GIBBON. 311

Alps, and the well-cultivated, well-wooded country in
the foreground. They were most hospitably received by
him and introduced to the pleasant and select society of
the place and of the French emigrants, a society in which
the historian was the principal person, and was the object
of universal respect and esteem. They found him so
much under the impression already adverted to respect-
ing the danger of revolution, that he seriously argued in
favour of the Lisbon Inquisition, saying, " he would not
at the present moment give up even that old establish-
ment." Well might he call Burke a rational madman!
Possibly the compliment might not have been returned.

During the next year the French fever had extended
itself into Switzerland, and he found the society of Lau-
sanne greatly affected by it. " Never did he know any
place so much changed in a year." The storm, however,
blew over as far as the Pays de Vaud was concerned,
and beyond some arrests for meditated insurrection,
nothing took place to disturb the public tranquillity. He
therefore deferred for another year the visit which he had
promised his friends, with whom he was to have passed
twelve months after their return to England. At first
the long journey in his infirm state of health made him
dread the undertaking; then the apprehension of dis-
turbances in Lausanne induced him to defer his depar-
ture. Afterwards he found those fears groundless; but
a more serious danger lowered in the month of October,
from the French occupying Savoy under General Montes-
quieu, and threatening the Helvetian territory. Geneva
required the stipulated aid of Berne, and above eleven
thousand men, in aid of three thousand Genevese, occupied
the neighbourhood of Coppet and Nyon. A convention was

312 GIBBON.

concluded, seeming the independence of the little republic
at the end of October ; and the Pays de Vaud being thus
for the present secured from attack, Gibbon no longer
contemplated the necessity of abandoning his library and
garden, and of seeking shelter in Zurich or Constance.

It is singular enough, and sufficiently characteristic of
those times, that General Montesquieu one evening, imme-
diately after signing the convention, suddenly entered
the room where the Neckers were, at Rolle, whither they
had fled on account of Mine, de StaeTs approaching con-
finement. He had run away from his victorious army in
consequence of a decree against him by the Convention;
and orders having been given to secure him, alive or dead,
he fled through Switzerland into Germany, intending pos-
sibly by a circuitous route, to reach shelter in England.
He was succeeded by Kellermann, and the fears of the
Swiss returned. A few days, however, restored peace
and security to the minds of all at Lausanne. Savoy was
erected into the Departement du Mont-Blanc; Geneva
was revolutionised and summoned a Convention to meet.
The wealthier inhabitants retired to the Pays de Vaud,
where all apprehensions of attack or of insurrection had
subsided at the beginning of 1793.

In these circumstances Gibbon's promised visit to Lord
Sheffield would have been in all probability still post-
poned, but for an unfortunate event in his friend's family
—his wife's death — and his writing to require consola-
tion and support under this loss. Gibbon behaved most
admirably on the occasion, for he lost no time in setting
out upon a long, very inconvenient, and somewhat perilous
journey round the French frontier, though in a state of
body little fit for undergoing such fatigue. He had some

GIBBON. 313

years before suffered from erysipelas, which had left a
swelling in the legs. He had been visited with a severe
fit of the gout in 1791, and again the following year;
but his chief infirmity was a very unwieldy rupture,
which all who saw him perceived, but which he himself
most unaccountably never supposed any one could be
aware of, and never had mentioned in the slightest way
either to any medical man or even to his valet-de-
chambre. The death of his friend Severy, after a long
illness, had likewise indisposed him to any exertion. Yet
with all these difficulties to struggle against, he manfully
set out about the month of May, and, after a tedious and
circuitous journey by Frankfort and Brussels, reached
Ostend at the end of that month, and Sheffield House
in London a few days after. There, and at Sheffield
Place in Sussex, he remained during the summer, except-
ing only a visit to Mrs. Gibbon at Bath, and one to Lord
Spencer at Althorp in October.

He came to London early in November. He now
found it necessary to consult physicians, and it being
ascertained that he had hydrocele as well as hernia,
the operation of puncturing was performed. Under this,
which is not considered painful, nor if the only complaint,
dangerous, he shewed great cheerfulness, making jokes
with the operator during the time. No less than four
quarts of fluid were taken off, and as he had no fever he
was able to go out in a few days, though the tumour con-
tinued of about half its former size, owing to the other
malady. The water immediately began to form again;
a second operation was necessary — it was performed
Nov. 24, and it proved much more painful than the first.
His letters continued as gay as usual ; and he announced

314 GIBBON.

his intention of going to Sheffield Place in a few days.
He visited Lord Auckland in Kent ; he returned to dine
with the Chancellor, (Lord Loughborough,) and met there
Mr. Pitt, with Burke and Windhani; and before the
middle of December he reached Lord Sheffield's. While
there he was observed to be exceedingly changed, though
in London, a few days before, his conversation had been
as lively and animated as ever. He moved about with
difficulty ; he often retired to his room ; the formation of
water again showed itself; his appetite began to fail ; and
he observed, it was a bad sign with him. when he could
not eat at breakfast — the only desponding expression that
escaped him. Fever now made its appearance, and Lord
Sheffield recommended his removal to London, where he
went by a very painful journey on the 6th of January.
Two days after, Lord Sheffield joined him, and a third
operation relieved him of six quarts. His spirits were
revived by this relief, and when his friend left town, he
reckoned upon being able to go out in a day or two ; but
on the 1 5th he was taken violently ill in the night, and
he died the following day, 16th January, 1794. Two
days before, he had received the visit of Lady Spencer
and her mother Lady Lucau ; and on the next day he
rose and saw several friends, with whom conversing as
late as five in the evening, the talk fell on a favourite
topic with him, the probable duration of his life, which
he fixed at ten years at least, perhaps twelve, and perhaps
twenty. In less than two hours he became drowsy, passed
an exceedingly bad night, and though in the morning
he found himself better and got up, he was persuaded to
retire again into his bed, in which he expired before one
o'clock. His servant said, that he never at any time

GIBBON. 315

appeared to have supposed himself in danger, unless his
desiring to see Mr. Darell, his solicitor, might be con-
sidered to indicate some such feeling. He was buried in
Lord Sheffield's vault at Hitching, in Sussex, and an
epitaph in Latin was inscribed on his tomb, the composi-
tion of Dr. Parr, and describing his style with more dis-
crimination than is to be found in many of that expe-
rienced lapidary writer's compositions. "Copiosum,
splendidum, concinnum orbe verborum, et summo artificio
distinctimi orationis genus, reconditse exquisitseque sen-
tentise."

It remains before considering the historical merits of
Gibbon, that some account be given of his personal qua-
lities, beyond that which has incidentally been drawn
from the opinions of Suard and Deffand. His honour-
able and amiable disposition, his kind and even temper
was praised by all, displayed as it was in the steadiness of
his friendships, and the generosity of his conduct towards
Deyverdun, and indeed all who needed whatever help his
circumstances enabled him to give. Perhaps the warmth
of his affection was yet more strikingly exemplified in
his steady attachment to his kind aunt, Miss Porten, and
towards his venerable stepmother, who survived him. Nor
can any just exception be taken to ,his political conduct
when in Parliament, the personal friend as he was of
Lord North, and the conscientious approver of his mea-
sures. If he joined in the Coalition which made ship-
wreck of all the parties to it, he only erred with far
greater politicians, and might well plead his habitual
respect and esteem for his leader as the justification of
joining in his fatal mistake.

316 GIBBON.

He never was more than a silent spectator of those
great and fierce struggles. He appears early to have felt
that his talents were not adapted to public speaking,
an error which many able and even highly gifted men fall
into from not being aware how much the faculty of
thinking on his legs, is an acquisition of habit to any
man of tolerable abilities, who will devote himself to gain
a faculty, beyond most others, bearing a premium dispro-
portioned to its real merits in every free country. He
repeatedly endeavoured to overcome his repugnance, and
to risk the consequences of a failure, which after all
would only have continued the silence he condemned him-
self to. As often as he came near the point, he shrank
back, saying, it "was more tremendous than he had
imagined — the great speakers filled him with despair, the
bad ones with terror." Afterwards, on again coming
near the task, he recoils, as he says, not for want of pre-
paration and of matter, but " from dread of exposing
himself." This personal vanity, then, finally condemned
him to silence — or as he says, " he remained in his seat
safe but inglorious." He would not take the chance of
success which would have greatly exalted him, for fear
by failing he should remain where he was. He refused
to take a gratis ticket in the political lottery, where he
might have gained by the adventure, and could not pos-
sibly lose, unless, indeed, his vanity might have been
mortified for nine days by men citing his failure.

His colloquial powers were by all accounts of a high
order, but certainly not of the highest; for he was care-
fid of his expressions to the pitch of pedantry ; his re-
marks came as if prepared for the press; his wit was

GIBBON. 317

equally precise, and his manner was strongly tinged with
affectation. Great resources of information, and as much
readiness of argument, and remark, and sally, as his con-
ceit would allow to appear, ministered to the staple of his
talk. Sir James Mackintosh, in reference to Gibbon's
powers of conversation was wont to say, that he might
have been cut out of a corner of Burke's mind, without
being missed. I say in reference to his powers of conver-
sation; though Mr. Green who relates the anecdote, con-
siders the application of the remark as having been gene-
ral. But Sir James far better knew the merit of Gibbon,
and the value of his great work, than thus to compare
him generally with Burke — whose whole writings, excel-
lent as they are for some qualities, will never stand
nearly so high in the estimation of mankind, either for
profound learning or for various usefulness, as the 'De-
cline and Fall.'

His letters have the faults of his conversation ; they
are, not easy or natural; all is constrained, all for effect.
No one can suppose in reading them that a word would
have been changed, had the writer known they were to
be published the morning after he dispatched them,
and had sent them to the printing-office instead of the
post-office.

The external appearance of Gibbon was extremely un-
graceful and forbidding. In his early years his figure
was very small and slender, but his head disproportionately
large. In after life his whole form was changed, and his
large head and barely human features, seemed better
adapted to the bulk into which his body had swelled.
By far the best picture of him and of his conversation is
given by Colman, whom Mr. Croker copies in a note to

318 GIBBON.

his invaluable Edition of Boswell's Johnson, (vol. i. p.
121.) "The learned Gibbon was a curious counter-
balance to the learned, (may I not say the less learned'?""")
Johnson. Their manners and tastes both in writing and
in conversation were as different as their habiliments.
On the day I first sat down with Johnson, in his rusty
brown suit, and his black worsted stockings, Gibbon
was placed opposite to me in a suit of flowered velvet,
with a bag and sword. Each had his measured phrase-
ology; and Johnson's famous parallel between Dryden
and Pope might be loosely parodied in reference to him-
self and Gibbon. Johnson's style was grand, and Gib-
bon's elegant ; the stateliness of the former was sometimes
pedantic, and the polish of the latter was sometimes
finical. Johnson marched to kettledrums and trumpets,
Gibbon moved to flutes and hautboys ; Johnson hewed
passages through the Alps, while Gibbon levelled walks
through parks and gardens. Mauled as I had been by
Johnson, Gibbon poured balm upon my bruises, by con-
descending once or twice in the course of the evening to
talk with me. The great historian was light and playful,
suiting his matter to the capacity of the boy ; but it was
done more suo ; still his manner prevailed, still he tap-
ped his snuff-box, still he smiled and smiled, and rounded
his periods with the same air of good breeding as if he
were conversing with men. His mouth, mellifluous as
Plato's, was a round hole nearly in the centre of his

visage."

We are now in the last place to consider Gibbon as an
historian, and in considering the nature and estimating

* It really is singular to see any kind of doubt expressed on tlii.s
by any one who had ever heard either author.

GIBBON. 319

the merits of his great work, the first thing that naturally
requires our attention is the plan. In the subject, as he
has denned or rather extended it, there is manifestly a
remarkable defect. There is no correctness in repre-
senting the decline of the Roman Empire as having
lasted from the age immediately following that of the
Antonines, at the end of the second century, to the
taking of Constantinople by the Turks in the middle of
the fifteenth — a period of nearly thirteen hundred years.
It is true that the seat of power had been transferred
from. Italy to the confines of Asia; but in order to make
the Roman Empire survive for six centuries and a half
the destruction of the Western Empire, it becomes neces-
sary to regard, and the author does accordingly regard,
Charlemagne as having formed a new empire in the
west, and his successors, first of the Caiiovingian race and
then of the Capetian, as governing the Roman Empire.
Indeed, the unity of the subject, and its clear limitation,
would have been more perfectly maintained by making
the History terminate with the subversion of the Western
Empire by the conquest of Rome in the beginning of the
sixth century. The subject, as it has been continued
far beyond the original design, is, therefore, wanting in
unity; it is not so much the decline and fall of the
Roman Empire as the history of the whole world for the
first fourteen or fifteen centuries of the Christian era.

In order to keep some order and arrangement in a
subject so vast and various, it becomes necessary either
to follow strictly the order of time in relating successive
events — or to group those events, and chiefly by the
countries which were the scenes of them — or to adopt a
middle course and to treat chronologically the events of

320 GIBBON.

each group. Gibbon has, generally speaking, taken this
third line, and has pursued it with much skill and
felicity. But he has also adopted occasionally other
principles of distribution, and has collected all the events
relating to some important subject, as the rise or
downfall of a religious sect, and has given these events
as the general history of that subject. To this course,
however, there are exceptions. It was not judicious to
separate from the general history of Constantino an
event so important in its influence, both on his own
fortunes and on the condition of his empire, as his con-
version to Christianity, making it instead of Paganism
the established religion of the Roman world. One
consequence, among others, of this separation is, that the
historical reader can hardly recognise Constantino's
identity or that of his most famous victory, "the battle of
the standard,"*" by which he took Rome and established
his fortune. Another consequence is, that had the
History ended with the first publication, comprising the
first sixteen chapters, the reader would have been left
wholly ignorant of the most important part of Constan-
tine's reign, although the narrative had extended over
two-thirds of that reign, and incomparably the most
material as well as the largest portion of it. It is a
third consequence that his religious history, being
reserved for a separate narrative, is blended with the
establishment of the Christian religion, which was only
fully effected during the century after his decease; and
thus the general narrative breaks off in the middle of

* There is no mention whatever even of the word Labarum in
the first publication. It occurs not under the head of the battle, but
in the 20th chapter, which gives the religious history of the empire.

GIBBON. 321

Julian's reign and of the fourth century : then the eccle-
siastical history goes back to the beginning of that
century and continues to the middle of the fifth; and
lastly the general narrative, thus interrupted, is again
taken up where it left off in Julian's reign. Thus, too,
the history of Mahomet and his immediate successors is
given apart from that of their conquests. The reigns of
the six caliphs who conquered Persia, Syria, Egypt, and
part of Africa, are all given, though shortly; and no one,
to read the chapter containing that history (the fiftieth),
would ever suspect that any of them, not even Omar and
Ali and Otlmian, had ever drawn a sword, though the rise
of their religion had been related, and even its peculiar
doctrines described, and though that history covered a
period of half a century (632 to 680). Hence anti-
cipation and repetition, or the choice between these and
obscurity, becomes unavoidable. Other defects of a like
description may be found out in the design; but it must
on all hands be admitted, that the extraordinary nature
of the subject, its many scattered parts, its consisting of
so much possessing no interest, and yet not easy to
omit, with so much which, though interesting, is of most
difficult arrangement and compression, interposed obsta-
cles all but insuperable to the composition of a work
having any pretensions to cither unity or method, and
the historian has been always most justly praised for
having approached as near as could reasonably be
expected to a perfection of impossible attainment.

The great merit of Gibbon is his extraordinary in-
dustry, and the general fidelity of his statements, as
attested by the constant references which he makes to
his numerous and varied authorities — references which

Y

322 GIBBON.

enabled the " most faithful of historians""" to ascertain
clearly their accuracy, that is, the truth of his narrative.
This is the very first virtue of the historical character;
and that merit, therefore, is fully possessed by Gibbon.
In it he is the worthy rival of Robertson, and in it he
forms a remarkable contrast to Hume.

The next great merit of Gibbon is the judgment with
which he weighs conflicting authorities, and the freedom
with which he rejects improbable relations. His sagacity
is remarkable; and his attention seems ever awake.
When we consider the obscurity in which many events
during the dark ages are necessarily shrouded, nay, even
the multitude of obscure actors on the turbulent and
varied scenes — persons whom he yet was not at liberty
to pass over — this praise, so generally accorded to him,
becomes the more flattering, in proportion as the task
was the more difficult of following scanty and uncertain
lights, and describing strange but oftentimes mean trans-
actions. His most distinguished translator and commen-
tator, after, at one time, doubting his general accuracy
and powers of discrimination, has confessed, upon a more
careful perusal, with a constant reference to his authori-
ties, that he had judged him too severely, and has done
ample justice, as well to " his power of judicious discri-
mination" (justesse d'esprit) " as to the immensity of his
researches and the variety of his knowledge." f

The third excellence of the work is its varied learning,
distributed in the vast body of notes which accompany

* Robertson. See his letter on the publication of the first volume.
That great writer had diligently traced the author's references,
t Guizot. Preface.

GIBBON. 323

the text, and which contain no small portion of a critical
abstract, serving for a catalogue raisonne, of the works
referred to in the page. Though many of these notes
are somewhat flippant, and some are far from decent,
they form, perhaps, the most striking, certainly the most
entertaining part of the work.

It must, lastly, be allowed, that the narrative is as
lucid as the confused nature of the subject will admit;
and that, whatever defects may be ascribed to it, there is
nothing tiring or monotonous, nothing to prevent the
reader's attention from being kept ever awake. When
the nature of the subject is considered, perhaps there
may some doubt arise, if the chaster style of Livy, of
Robertson, or even of Hume, could have rendered this
story as attractive as Gibbon's manner, singularly free
from all approach to monotony, though often deviating
widely from simplicity and nature.

These are, truly, excellences of a high, some of them
excellences of the highest, order, and all possessed by
Gibbon in an ample measure — patient industry, general
fidelity, sagacious discrimination, jealous vigilance in
detecting error and falsehood, various, profound, and
accurate learning, all combined to produce a history,
which with eminent clearness unravels a perplexed and
obscure subject but one of extreme importance, and
which gives in a connected view the transition from
former ages to our own, uniting, as has been happily
observed,"" by a kind of bridge the story of the ancient
and the modern world. It would be difficult for more of
the virtues of a great historian to unite in the same person.

* Miliuan's Preface.

Y 2

324 GIBBON.

But great vices also fell to liis share. Has tantas viri
virtutes ingentia vitia rcquabant. (Liv. xxi. cli. 4.) He
never attained, with all his practice, the first quality of
the historical style, and which goes deeper than the
mere manner, the power of narrative. The story does
not flow smoothly along; its course is interrupted; it
wants unity, being broken down into fragments. It is
almost as much argumentative as narrative. But above
all it fails in the very first quality of narrative ; it does
not assume the ignorance of the reader and relate things

C-J O

in their order, proceeding from what has been told or ex-
plained to what remains undisclosed. Now this is the most
essential quality of all didactic compositions, and for the
present purpose every work is didactic. Whether a
science is to be unfolded, or an argument to be enforced,
or a story to be told, nothing should be anticipated, no-
thing assumed to be known before it has been propounded.
Now Gibbon constantly seems to assume that his reader
knows the subject, and continually alludes to what lias
yet to be brought before him. It is a part of this defect*
indeed it is the main cause of this defect, that he is
generally observing upon matters rather than plainly
recounting them. Numberless instances might be given
of these anticipations and assumptions ; not a few of his
leaving out the facts and losing himself in the remarks.
One or two may suffice rather as explaining than as
proving those positions, to which all Gibbon's readers
must assent. — There is nothing more elaborate than his
history of Alexander Severus; yet two references are
made to his death, and one of them is made the subject
of a general inference, at a considerable distance from the
account of his murder, afterwards given (chap. VII.) ;

GIBBON-. 325

a long digression on the finances of the empire, as well
as a history of Maximin, being interposed between these
allusions and the narrative of the death. — A great and
just panegyric is delivered of Papinian, the greatest
lawyer and statesman of his age, and prime minister of
the Emperor Caracalla.""" His death is said to have
caused general sorrow; but we are never told that he
died, or how, and can only conjecture as most likely that
the tyrant put him to death for nobly refusing to follow
Seneca's example and defend parricide. (Chap. VI.) —
So too in the same chapter, a minuter account with some
statements, and especially some notes that might have
been spared, is given of the monster Elagabalus. We
are told that he sent his portrait to Rome before he
marched thither in person. But the important event
of his going there is altogether left out, and we only
know it by being afterwards told of his conduct in the
capital. — Speaking of the war of Honain, he mentions
the confederacy of Tayef as a thing already described
and known to the reader, yet it never had even been
alluded to. (Chap. L.)

All this proceeds from the false notion which Gibbon
seems to have formed of a dignified style. He will not
condescend to be plain : he forgets that the very business
of the historian is to relate the history of events as they
happened. He must always shine; but labouring for
effect, he wholly omits the obvious consideration that
relief is absolutely necessary to produce it ; and forgets
that a strong unbroken light may dazzle without pleasing,
or may shine rather than illuminate, and that a broad

* So Gibbon makes him. He appears, however, to have been
dismissed from his office of Prcefectus Pretoria some time before,

326 GIBBON.

•

glare may be as confused and uninteresting as darkness
itself. The main fault of his style is the perpetual effort
which it discloses. Hume may have concealed his art
better than Robertson, yet the latter is ever at his
entire ease, while Gibbon is ever in the attitudes of the
Academy; he is almost agonistic. He can tell nothing
in plain terms, unadorned with figure, unseasoned with
epigram and point. Much tinsel is the result; many a
puerile ornament; many a gaudy allusion. But the
worst consequence of the erroneous theory, after the
fatal effect of spoiling the narrative and making the
story be told by allusion and hint rather than his-
torically, is that it leads to no small obscurity in the
diction. This great historian furnishes an example of
the style so much in favour with some inferior writers of
a later date, the ^enigmatical. Forgetting that the use
of language is to disclose our thoughts, they seem rather
to adopt the politic cardinal's notion that speech was
given us to conceal them, and accordingly they seem at
the end of each fine sentence as if they cried in a tone of
defiance, " Find me out the meaning of that !" Of course
the proverbial servility of imitators has since gone very
far beyond the earlier examples in Tacitus, Montesquieu,
and Gibbon. Yet the latter has innumerable passages at
which we guess long ere we can be sure of their sense.
Another consequence of the determination to pursue the
same stately march on all occasions is, that the most
common things being wrapt up in the same dignified or
adorned language, the matter, beside eluding for some
time our apprehension, forms a contrast so ludicrous
with the manner, that somewhat of ridicule is produced
when the sense is well ascertained.

GIBBON. 327

To exemplify these remarks, which must have, presented
themselves to all readers, there needs only the opening of
the book at almost any page. — He has to state that
instead of following the political divisions of the Turkish
Empire, he means to be guided by natural boundaries ;
but this is too plain : "Instead of following the arbitrary
divisions of despotism and ignorance,* it will be safer as
well as more agreeable to observe the indelible characters
of nature." Then comes, instead of a simple geographical
description of boundaries, a very violent figure represent-
ing the countries as in motion or as gushing out. "The
name of Asia Minorf is attributed with some propriety
to the peninsula which, confined betwixt the Euxine and
the Mediterranean, advances from the Euphrates towards
Europe," (ch. I.) — When he has simply to say, that Sardinia
and Sicily form two kingdoms in Italy, it is, "Two Italian
sovereigns assume a regal title from Sardinia and Sicily,"
(ch. I.) — When he has to mention the simple fact that there
were three great lawyers of the name of Scsevola, it is
" The kindred appellation of Mucius Scsevola, was illus-
trated by three sages of the law," (ch. XLIV.) — Who with-
out much thought can descry that the following sentence
means to state the circumstance of the Western Ocean
being called the Atlantic ? " The western parts of
Africa are intersected by the branches of Mount Atlas, a
name so idly celebrated by the fancy of poets, but which
is now diffused over the immense ocean that rolls between
the ancient and the new continent," (ch. IV.)— So inve-
terate had this habit of writing become, that when relat-
ing the ordinary events of his own life, or describing the

* This is not an intelligible word here, t Why not " given ?"

328 GIBBON.

circumstances of his family, we find him equally moving
upon stilts as when recounting the fortunes of the Western
or the Eastern Empire. He is telling that the Gibbons
had been city traders ; and he says that in their days,
" before our army and navy, our civil establishment, and
India empire had opened so many paths of fortune, the
mercantile profession was more frequently chosen by
youths of a liberal race and education who aspired to
create their own independence. Our most respectable
families have not disdained the counting-house, or even
the shop ; and in England as well as in the Italian com-
monwealths, heralds have been compelled to declare that
gentility is not degraded by the exercise of trade."
(Life, sub in.)

Such a style is prone to adopt false and mixed meta-
phors, and falls naturally into obscurity. The great
original of it, Tacitus, is a constant example of the
latter vice ; but Gibbon added a defect not to be found
in his model, or in the other object of his admiration,
Montesquieu : he is very often incorrect, sometimes from
desire of making the sense of words bend to the balance
of a period, or the turn of an epigram, sometimes from
mere carelessness or neglect. — " They addressed the Pon-
tiff to dispel their scruples, and absolve their promises,"
(ch. XLIX.) Dispel is not the correct word applied to
scruples, but to doubts ; and absolving a promise is wholly
senseless ; but " absolve them from a promise," is plainly
rejected because it would have interrupted the sj'mmetry,
which some would call the jingle. — So he makes the
Emperor (ch. XVI.) not pity, but "abhor the sufferings of
the persecuted sect," instead of the cruelty of the perse-
cutors.— From the same motive, speaking of Maximin's

GIBBON. 329

cruelty and superstition, he makes " the former suggest the
means, the latter point out the objects of persecution :" (ch.
XVI.) now cruelty can never suggest means, it can only
induce the adoption of them, and superstition might just
as well suggest means as objects. — Again, speaking of the
numbers of the empire and its public works, he says, "The
observation of the number and greatness of its cities will
serve to confirm the former, and to multiply the latter,"
(ch. II.) : as if any observation of works could increase their
number ; but then the accurate phrase " to extend our
belief in the number of the latter/' would have spoilt the
symmetry and sound of the period.

The historian's language, however, abounds in phrases
indolently adopted without any regard to the real mean-
ing of words, and not to serve any purpose of preserving
symmetry or obtaining point. — Thus "human industry
corrected the deficiencies of nature," (ch. II.) instead of
supplied. — So "the life of the founder supplies the silence
of his written revelation;" (ch. L.) instead of supplies the
deficiencies, or speaks when the writings are silent. —
" Genius and learning served to harmonize the soul of
Longinus," (ch. XII.) — " Two circumstances have been
universally mentioned, which insinuate that the treat-
ment," &c., (ch. XVI.) — Again, " History, which under-
takes to record the transactions of the past, for the
instruction of future ages, would ill deserve that honour-
able office, if," &c., (ch. XVI.) instead of "execute" or
" perform." — " Fraud is the resource of weakness." No
one doubts it; but he adds, "and cunning," — which is, in
fact, either fraud or the immediate cause of it ; and no
one can correctly say that fraud is its resource, (ch. XLIX.)
Sometimes, in quest of a fine word, he says something

330 GIBBON.

which he does not mean. — " If we annihilate the interval
of time and space between Augustus and Charles IV. ;"
(ch. L.) but he only means, "if we pass over that interval."
— "A casting vote was ascribed to the superior wisdom of
Papinian;" (ch. XLIV.) but he only means, that it was
given to Papinian on account of his " wisdom," while he
says that Papinian's wisdom was understood to have
invented the casting vote. — "The fragments of the Greek
kingdom in Europe and Asia I shall abandon to the
Turkish arms;" (ch. LXVIII.) but he only means, that
he gives up the history of the empire after those arms
had conquered it. A greater artist marks his course, and
connects himself with his subject after a very different
fashion : — " Me quoque juvat," says Livy, on closing the
Punic wars, " velut ipse in parte laboris ac periculi fuerim,
ad finem belli Punici pervenisse. Nam , etsi profiteri
ausum perscripturuni res omnes Roinanas, in partibus sin-
gulis tanti operis fatigari mininie conveniat, tamen quum
in nientem venit tres et sexaginta annos seque multa
volumina occupasse niihi quam occuparint quadringenti
octoginta octo anni a condita Urbe ad Ap. Claudium Con-
sulem qui primus bellum Carthaginiensibus intulit; jam
provideo anirno, velut qui proximis littori vadis inducti
mare pedibus ingrediuntur, quidquid progredior in vas-
tiorem me altitudinem ac velut profundum invehi et
crescere psene opus quod prima quseque perficiendo minui
videbatur." (Lib. xxxi,, cap. 1.)

There are few instances in his statements of the same
carelessness which we have marked in his style; but
some there are, — as when he makes the number of
Roman citizens at the beginning of the Social War,
463,000 fighting men, which answers to a population of

GIBBON. 331

at least two, perhaps of nearer four millions, (cli. II.)
It is, however, rather strange, that one so accustomed to
weigh historical evidence, so little apt to be seduced by
mere authority, and so prone to set the probabilities of
any narrative against the weight of its author, should
always have shut his eyes to the gross improbability of
the commonly received history of Rome in the earlier
ages, and should have followed blindfold the guidance of
what any Latin writer, from national vanity, or preju-
dice, or superstition, happened to relate. We may re-
member having seen him pluming himself on defending
the authenticity of those poetical fictions as pure history
in his juvenile work. The same implicit faith in their
authenticity followed him to the end of his career,
although Beaufort's excellent work had long claimed the
regard, and indeed obtained the assent of inquiring
minds; and the subsequently promulgated doctrines of
Niebuhr and Wachsmiith had been very fully anticipated
before any part of the ' Decline and Fall' was written.

The greatest charge against Gibbon's historical cha-
racter remains : he wrote under the influence of a deeply
rooted prejudice, and a prejudice upon the most impor-
tant of all subjects — the religion of his age and nation.
I speak not of the too famous description in which the
progress of Christianity is ascribed to second causes, that
no doubt operated most powerfully to its general accep-
tance and dissemination. The most orthodox believer
might subscribe to his theory, nay, might have taken the
self-same view of the subject. There is great truth, too,
in his remarks upon the exaggerated accounts of early
persecution, and some foundation for the circumstances
urged in extenuation of the conduct held by heathen

332 GIBBON.

authorities towards the new sect. But there runs a vein
of sneering and unfair insinuation always against Chris-
tians and their faith through the whole botli of those
inquiries and other portions of ecclesiastical history,
especially the religious transactions of Constantino, nay,
through almost every part of the work in which any
opportunity is afforded by the subject, or can be made
often by pretty forcible means — any opportunity of grati-
fying a disposition eminently uncharitable, wholly unfair,
and tinged with prejudices quite unworthy of a philoso-
pher, and altogether alien to the character of an his-
torian. Nor is the charge lessened, but rather aggra-
vated, by the pretence constantly kept up of his being a
believer, when any reader of the most ordinary sagacity
at once discovers that he is an unrelenting enemy of the
Christian name. Nothing can be more discreditable
to the individual, nothing, above all, more unworthy
the historian, than this subterfuge, resorted to for the
purpose of escaping popular odium. All men of right
feelings must allow that they would far more have re-
spected an open adversary, who comes forward to the
assault with a manly avowal of his disbelief, than they
can a concealed but bitter enemy who assumes the garb
of an ally, in order effectually to screen himself and
injure the cause he pretends to defend.

To give instances of the unfairness which I have, in
common with all Gibbon's readers, reproved, would be too
easy not to prove superfluous. But the sixteenth chapter
must for ever be, in an especial manner, a monument of
his gross injustice or incurable prejudice. The eagerness
with which he seizes on every circumstance to extenuate
the dreadful persecutions that admit of no defence, is in

GIBBON. 333

the highest degree discreditable, both to his honesty and
his sound judgment. He purposely begins with Nero,
and so leaves out the persecutions recorded in Scripture.
His account of Cyprian's martyrdom is as unfair as it
could be without deceit and positive falsehood — casting
a veil over all the most horrible atrocities practised on
that amiable and innocent personage, and magnifying
into acts of clemency exercised towards him every insig-
nificant attention that was paid him — perverting, too,
the truth of history, in order to feign circumstances which
really do not appear vouched by any kind of authority.
But nothing can be more preposterous than the elaborate
description which he gives of the comforts derived by
the sufferers in these cruel scenes from the glory of mar-
tyrdom, and from the great preference which they must
have given it over the disgrace of apostasy. The twofold
object of this strange discourse is at once to lower the
sufferer's merit and extenuate his oppressor's guilt. Nor
is there any kind of persecution for conscience' sake to
which the same remarks are not equally applicable. It
is a much lesser offence, though the passage is not un-
deserving of notice, as exhibiting the force of his preju-
dices, and the errors into which they lead him while
descanting on his favourite topic, the " mild spirit of
polytheism," that when, in describing Diocletian's general
persecution, he has occasion to mention a Christian who
had torn down the imperial proclamation, accompanying
the act with expressions of "hatred and contempt
towards all such tyrannical governors," the historian
shows at once his prejudice against Christianity and his
ignorance of law, by declaring this offence to be punish-
able " as treason by the mildest laws." He adds, that

334 GIBBON.

his being a person of rank aggravated the guilt; and
relates, without a single expression of disapproval, that
the man " was burnt, or rather roasted by a slow fire,
every refinement of cruelty being exhausted without
altering the steady smile which remained on his coun-
tenance." The only remark made on the executioners is
of an extenuating nature ; they were, it seems, " zealous
to revenge the personal insult which had been offered to
the Emperor." The smile of the patient sufferer is
termed " a steady and insulting smile ;" and the Chris-
tians are sneered at for " the excessive commendations
which they lavished on the memory of their hero and
martyr." Gibbon's clerical adversaries would have fared
much better in their conflict with him had they dwelt
rather upon such passages as these, in which he stands
self-convicted either of almost incurable prejudice or of
bad faith, and not attempted the hopeless act of charging
him with ignorance and with false quotation.

The charge of indecency has often been advanced
against Gibbon's ' History,' and by none more severely than
by a writer who was combating on his side, in one, at
least, of his theological controversies, and a writer whose
own verses, any more than his familiar conversation, gave
him but little right to make this complaint. Person "" de-
clares that, " Were the ' History' anonymous, he should
guess that the shameful obscenities which pervade the
whole, but especially the last volumes, were written by
some debauchee, who, having, from age or excess, sur-
vived the practices of lust, still indulged himself in the
luxury of speculation, or exposed the impotent imbecility

* ' Letters to Archdeacon Travis.' Preface.

GIBBON. 335

after lie had lost the vigour of passion." This censure
is certainly much too sharp, and it is truly astonishing
that Gibbon felt it not. Delighted with Person's' alliance
against Travis, and pleased with the panegyric of his
own diligence and accuracy which the great Grecian had
penned, he only says that " the sweetness of his praise is
tempered by a reasonable mixture of acid." He also de-
fends himself against the charge of indecency as preferred
by others, and his principal argument is the exceedingly
feeble, and even doubtful one, that his English text is
chaste, and that " all licentious passages are left in the
obscurity of a learned language." It is undeniable,
however, that, after allowing Person's invective to be
exaggerated, there can be no excuse for some of the notes
— as those on Elagabalus, and Mahomet, and Theodora,
which throw little, if any, light upon the subject, and
only serve to pander for a prurient imagination.

( 336 )

SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

IT is rare to observe a name among the active and
successful promoters of science, and which yet cannot
easily find a place in its annals from the circumstance of
its not being inscribed on any work, or connected with
any remarkable discovery. Almost all the philosophers
of both ancient and modern times have left us writings in
which their doctrines were delivered, and the steps made
by their labours were recorded. The illustrious excep-
tion of Socrates almost ceases to be one, from the memory
of his opinions being preserved by two of his disciples
in their immortal works ; and the important discoveries
of Archimedes and of Pythagoras arc known distinctly
enough in the books of ancient geometry, to leave no
doubt resting upon their claims to the admiration and
the gratitude of all ages. The lost works of the ancient
geometers evidently afford no exception to the general
remark, since they once existed, and contained the dis-
coveries of their authors.

It must, however, be observed, that the circumstance
of a cultivator of science having left no works to after
ages is merely accidental. He may have enriched philo-
sophy with his achievements, and yet never have recorded
them himself. Thus, had Black only made the great
discovery of latent heat and specific heat, he would have
been justly considered in all times as one of the greatest
benefactors of natural science, and yet the history of that

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 337

splendid discovery would only have been found in the
memory of those who had heard his lectures ; his only
work being confined to the other discovery of fixed air,
and the nature of the alkaline earths. To take a yet
more remarkable instance; — how little of Watt's great
and lasting fame depends on any written work which he
has left ! The like may be truly said of Arkwright ;
nay, the most important of inventions, the art of print-
ing, is disputed by two names, Coster and Guttenberg,
neither of whom is connected with the composition of
any literary work whatever.

As men who have by their researches advanced the
bounds of science, — " inventas aut qui vitani excoluerunt
per artes," — may never have given any written works
to the world, and yet merit a high place among the
greatest philosophers, so may others who have filled
the less exalted but highly useful sphere of furthering
the progress of the sciences or the arts, deserve a
distinguished place among philosophers for the same
reason which entitles authors to such a station, although
they may never have contributed by any discoveries
to the advancement of the sciences which they culti-
vated. The excellent and eminent individual whose life
we are about to contemplate falls within this descrip-
tion; for although his active exertions for upwards of
half a century left traces most deeply marked in the
history of the natural sciences, and though his whole life
was given up to their pursuit, it so happened, that with
the exception of one or twro tracts upon agricultural and
horticultural questions, he never gave any work of his
own composition to the world, nor left behind him
anything, beyond his extensive correspondence with other

z

338 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

cultivators of science. It is from this circumstance that
not even an attempt has ever as yet been made to write
the history of Sir Joseph Banks. And yet, what so
\vorthy of contemplation as the history of one who loved
science for its own sake, who delighted in the survey of
important facts connected with the study of nature, or
tracing interesting truths belonging to the same branch
of knowledge; whose pursuit of knowledge was wholly
disinterested, not even stimulated by the hope of fame
as the reward of his labours'? And who better deserved
the name of a philosopher, than he whose life was
devoted to the love of wisdom, whose rich reward was the
delight of the study, whose more noble ambition left to
others the gratification of recording their progress in
books, and filling the mouths of men with their names "?
Much of what is explained, touching the real pleasures of
science, in the life of D'Alembert, is applicable to the
career of Sir Joseph Banks. *

He was of an ancient and wealthy family, established
since the reign of Edward III., first in the West Riding
of Yorkshire, and afterwards in the county of Lincoln,
where they possessed ample estates from the end of the
seventeenth century ; and a considerable accession of
fortune came to them early in the eighteenth, by mar-
riage with an heiress in Derbyshire, named Hodgkin-
son, whose estates, by a shifting use in a settlement, were
severed from those in Lincolnshire till 1792, when the
whole fortune united in the person of Sir Joseph.

He was born at Argyle Buildings, in London, on the
2d of February, 1743, 0. S., according to a note in his
own handwriting which lies before me, contrary to several

* See Life of D'Alembert, and Appendix.

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 339

accounts which represent him as born in Lincolnshire in
December of that year."''" After being placed for some time
under a private tutor, he was in his ninth year sent to Har-
row and four years after to Eton, where his good disposi-
tion and cheerful temper recommended him to his masters ;
but they complained of his extreme aversion to study,
and inordinate love of active sports. In about twelve
mouths, however, when in his fourteenth year, his tutor
found him reading at the hours of play, and the change
which had been effected in his habits was described by
himself to Sir Everard Home as arising from an acci-
dental circumstance. One day he had been bathing with
his fellow Etonians ; and on coming out of the water to
dress, he found that all but himself had gone away.
Having put on his clothes, he walked slowly along a
green lane. It was a fine summer's evening ; flowers
covered the sides of the path. He felt delighted with
the natural beauties around him, and exclaimed, " How
beautiful ! Would it not be far more reasonable to
make me learn the nature of these plants than the Greek
and Latin I am confined to V His next reflection was
that he must do his duty, obey his father's commands,
and reconcile himself to the learning of the school. But
this did not hinder him from immediately applying to
the study of botany ; and having no better instructor,
he paid some women who were employed in gathering
plants — what is called culling simples — for the druggists,
for such information as they could give him, the price
he gave being sixpence for each thing they told him.
Returning home for the holidays, he was inexpressibly

* The parish register of St. James's makes hislrirth 4th January.

z 2

340 SIR JOSEPH BAKES.

delighted to find in his mother's dressing-room an old
torn copy of Gerard's Herbal, having the names and
figures of the plants, with which he had formed an
imperfect acquaintance, and he carried it with him back
to school. There he continued his collection of plants,
and he also made one of butterflies and other insects. I
have often heard iny father say, that being of the same
age, they used to associate much together. Both were
fond of walking and of swimming, and both were expert
in the latter exercise. Banks always distinguished him,
and in his old age he never ceased to show me every
kindness in his power, in consequence of this old con-
nexion. My father described him as a remarkably fine-look-
ing, strong, and active boy, whom no fatigue could subdue,
and no peril daunt ; and his whole time out of school was
given up to hunting after plants and insects, making a
hortus siccus of the one, and forming a cabinet of the
other. As often as Banks could induce him to quit his
task in reading or in verse -making, he would take him on
his long rambles ; and I suppose it was from this early
taste that we had at Brougham so many butterflies,
beetles, and other insects, as well as a cabinet of shells
and fossils. The interesting anecdote related by Sir E.
Home, I never heard my father relate, but he always said
that his friend Joe cared mighty little for his book, and
could not well understand any one taking to Greek and
Latin. The anecdote itself must be perfectly authentic
if Sir E. Home heard it from him ; for he was scrupulously
exact in relating facts, and anything like romance about
natural scenery was the thing in the world the most alien
from the cast of his mind.

In 1760 he was taken from Eton to be inoculated,
and the operation failed : it was repeated, and succeeded ;

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 341

but so much time was thus lost, that it was thought
better he should uot return to school ; aud immediately
before he completed his eighteenth year, he was sent to
Oxford, and entered a gentleman commoner of Christ
Church. His love of natural history now increased with
the increased means and greater leisure for gratifying it.
Botanjr, however, continued to be his favourite branch of
that science ; and he found that unfortunately no lectures
were given by Dr. Sibthorp, the botanical professor. In
this difficulty, he applied to the learned doctor for leave
to engage a lecturer, whose remuneration should be
wholly defrayed by his pupils ; and it is highly creditable
to the professor, and shows his love of the science, in
which sonic of his family afterwards so greatly excelled,
that he at once agreed to the proposal. Mr. Banks then
finding no one at Oxford capable of undertaking the
class, went over to Cambridge, whence he brought back
with him Mr. Israel Lyon, a learned botanist, and good
astronomer, who was then engaged in teaching these
two sciences to private pupils. The friendship of Mr.
Banks afterwards obtained for him the appointment of
astronomer to Captain Phipps on his Polar voyage. Mr.
Lyon gave lectures and lessons to the young men who
had joined in this very laudable scheme, and Mr. Banks,
as might be expected, profited exceedingly by those
instructions. Among true Oxonians, of course, he stood
low. He used to tell in after-life, that when he entered
any of the rooms where discussions on classical points
were going briskly on, they would say, " Here is Banks,
but he knows nothing of Greek." He made no reply,
but he would say to himself, " I shall very soon beat you
all in a kind of knowledge I thiiik infinitely more im-

342 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

portant;" and it happened that, soon after lie first heard
these jokes, as often as the classical men were puzzled on a
point of natural history, they said, "We must go toBanks."

In 1761 his father died; and in 1764, on coming of
age, he was put in possession of his valuable estates in
Lincolnshire, having quitted Oxford the year before.
And now it was that the great merit of this distinguished
person shone forth. With all the incitements which his
age, his figure, and his station naturally presented to
leading a life of idleness, varied only by the more vulgar
gratifications of sense or of ordinary ambition, and with
a fortune which placed these gratifications in ample
measure within his reach, he continued steadily devoted
to scientific pursuits, and only lived for the studies of the
naturalist. He remained out of Parliament; he went
little into any society but that of learned men ; his
relaxation was confined to exercise, and to angling, of
which he was so fond, that he would devote days and
even nights to it ; and as it happened that Lord Sandwich
had the same taste, and that both possessed estates in
Lincolnshire, they became intimately acquainted, and saw
much of one another. So zealous were both these friends
in the prosecution of this sport, that Sir Joseph used to
tell of a project they had formed for suddenly draining
the Serpentine by letting off the water ; and he was wont
to lament their scheme being discovered the night before
it was to have been executed: their hope was to have
thrown much light on the state and habits of the fish.

In May, 1766, he was elected a Member of the
Royal Society, and the same year he accompanied his
friend Sir Thomas Adams in the Niger, entrusted with a
voyage to Newfoundland. Mr. Bauks's object was the

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 343

collection of plants: what the object of the particular
voyage might be I ain not informed. On his return
to England by way of Lisbon, early in 1767, he re-
sumed, or rather continued, his studies in botany and
natural history ; and the intimacy which he formed with
Dr. Solander, a favourite pupil of Linnaeus, now settled
at the British Museum as Assistant-Librarian, greatly
facilitated his application to these pursuits.

The commencement of George the Third's reign was
distinguished most honourably, both for the Sovereign
and for his favourite minister, Lord Bute, by an extra-
ordinary regard for the interests of science. That dis-
tinguished person, the victim of much popular prejudice
and misrepresentation, formed a rare exception to most
statesmen who have governed this country, for he was
fond of philosophical studies, and was a successful as well
as a diligent cultivator of some of the sciences. Accord-
ingly, the patronage of the Crown was extended to
others who had like tastes, and it was most judiciously
employed in promoting the discovery of distant regions not
before explored by the adventurous spirit of navigators.
Captain Wallis had recently brought us acquainted with
some of the more remarkable groups of islands which
stud one portion of the Pacific Ocean; and it was
resolved to promote these discoveries, for the advance-
ment of natural science, without any views of conquest.
In 1676 Halley, while residing at the Island of St. He-
lena, had made an important observation on the transit
of Mercury over the sun's disc. But he had bequeathed
to astronomers a far more important recommendation, to
mark the transit of Venus, an event of much more rare
occurrence, and which . he could not hope to see, as it

344 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

was calculated to happen next in the year 1761. He
had shewn how complete a measure that phenomenon
would afford of the sun's parallax, or the angle subtended
by the earth's radius at the surface of the sun. This
angle could be with great accuracy best ascertained by
different contemporaneous observations at distant points
of the arc which the planet described in its passage, — the
planet affording, as it were, an object between the sun
and the earth, a kind of signal-post, by means of which
the angle sought might be measured.

Accordingly, in 1761 the British Government sent one
observer, Mr. Mason, to the Cape, and another, Dr. Maske-
lyuc, to St. Helena. The French Government at the
same time sent Le Gentil to Pondicherry, in the East
Indies, and La Chappe to Tobolsk, in Siberia, and Pingre
to Rodrigues, near the Mauritius. But the weather proved
so unfavourable that no certain conclusion could be
derived from their observations: for thoudi Pin^rc and

o o

Mason's observations proved afterwards to be correct,
they differed so widely from the others that the whole
subject remained in great uncertainty. A second transit
was expected in 1761), and the British Government now
sent an astronomer (Mr. Green) again to make those
important observations.

The great value of the object in view is manifest. If
we can ascertain the parallax, we have, by an easy process,
the exact distance of the sun from the earth; for, as in
every triangle the sides arc as the sines of the opposite
angles, the distance of the sun must be to the earth's
radius as the sine of an angle not sensibly differing from
a right angle, that is, as unity to the sine of the paral-
lax. Hence the distance is equal to the radius of

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 345

the earth divided by the sine of that very small angle.
The distances from the sun of the other planets are
easily found, because we know their relative distances;
and the real diameters of the sun and of these bodies are
likewise deduciblc from the same angles. The whole struc-
ture of the planetary or solar system thus depended upon
ascertaining the angle of parallax ; and nothing, therefore,
could be more becoming the rulers of two such kingdoms
as France and England, than to promote by every means
the success of these observations. While one expedition
was sent to the Pacific, Otaheite being the place chosen
for the experiment, Messrs. Dymond and Wales repaired
to Hudson's Bay, Mr. Call to Madras, and the Abbe de la
Chappe was sent to California. The Danish Government
sent Father Hills to Wardhus, near the North Cape ; the
King of Sweden dispatched Plausow to Finland ; and the
Empress of Russia sent several observers to different
parts of Siberia, with the same views. Four of the
observers — those at Otaheite, California, Hudson's Bay,
and Wardhus — were completely successful. The expedi-
tion to the Pacific had for its principal, but not its only
object, the observation by Mr. Green of the transit.
Everything that regarded the natural history of the
island fell within its scope; and the accurate survey
of the coasts already known, as well as the exploring of
new lands, was an important part of the wise and
enlightened scheme.

As soon as Mr. Banks found that the voyage to the
South Seas was resolved upon, he applied to his friend
Lord Sandwich, then at the head of the Admiralty, for
leave to join the expedition with a suite of scientific men,
and this was immediately granted. He made his prepa-

346 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

rations on the most liberal and extensive scale, worthy of
his fortune and his zeal for the advancement of natural
knowledge. He took with him Dr. Solander, the distin-
guished botanist already mentioned. He likewise took
two draftsmen and four servants; and, as the expedition
was placed under the government of the naval service, all
who joined it became subject to its rules and its discipline.
The choice of Captain Cook, as commander, was
singularly fortunate, or rather it was perfectly judicious.
He had risen gradually from the humble station of an
apprentice in a collier of Whitby, till he became mate of a
vessel engaged in that trade, fitted beyond all others to
make excellent navigators, because it is carried on by
sailing upon a coast almost without any harbour of
refuge, and consequently exposes the mariner to constant
risks and exercises his unremitting vigilance. When the
war of 1756 broke out, (the Seven Years' War,) he had
volunteered into the navy, and showed such talents
in his profession, that the Admiralty appointed him mate
of a sloop, the Mersey, in which he was present at the
siege of Quebec, under Wolfe. His skill and gallantry in
laying down the river and its soundings, previous to the
attack, led to his being employed in making a chart
of the St. Lawrence as far as the sea. His chart, though
he had never been taught either surveying or drawing,
was long the only one in use. He was, in consequence,
made master of the Northumberland frigate, and served
in that capacity till 1762, employing, however, his spare
time in the study of the mathematics, in which he
received most valuable assistance from a person of great
science, a pupil of the Bernouillis, Mr. afterwards Major
Desbarres; and in 1764, his patron, Sir Hugh Palliser,

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 347

whose name has been blackened by the assiduous efforts
of political faction, but who for many years was the firm
friend and only patron of Cook, being appointed to the
Government of Newfoundland, obtained for him the place
of marine surveyor of that island and Labrador. He
held that place for nearly four years, and enriched hydro-
graphical science by the most valuable charts of those
regions. The talents ^hich he had displayed as a navi-
gator were united to every bodily quality that can
fit men for either action, or labour, or suffering — an eye
sure in estimating directions and distances; a frame of
iron ; an entire indifference to fatigue, or privations, or
the times of wakefulness or of rest. But these natural
aptitudes for great actions were even exceeded by his
excellent demeanour in every station whether of obe-
dience or of command, by his fertility of resources in
all difficult situations, by his calmness in danger, his
firmness and presence of mind on every emergency.
"Plurimum audacke ad pericula capessenda, plurimum
consilii inter ipsa pericula erat ; nullo labore aut corpus
fatigari aut animus vinci poterat. Caloris ac frigoris
patientia par; cibi potionisque desiderio naturali, non
voluptate, modus finitus, vigiliarum sonmique nee die nee
nocte discriminata tempora. Id quod gerendis rebus
superesset quieti datum." (Liv. xxi. c. 4.)

So accomplished a seaman, or one so admirably fitted
for exploring new and unknown regions, guided only by
science and relying only on his own resources in all perils
and all emergencies, has never perhaps been offered to
the choice of a Government desirous of promoting this
interesting and difficult branch of the public service.
He was accordingly promoted to the rank of Lieutenant

348 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

and placed at the head of this expedition. Such was the
chief under whom Mr. Banks embarked in this important
enterprise; and in admiration of his great qualities he
yielded to none of his followers. There was, indeed,
something exceedingly congenial in the two characters;
the same love of discipline, the same firmness of purpose,
the same exclusive devotion to the one object in view, the
same strict and even punctilious* regard to the perform-
ance of his duty, the same active habits, and the same
contempt of all save action, distinguished alike these
eminent individuals, and knit them together in an indis-
soluble friendship notwithstanding the somewhat stern
temper of the one and the occasionally irascible dispo-
sition of the other, and notwithstanding the wide differ-
ence of the favourite pursuits to which their several lives
had been devoted. There was, moreover, a considerable
difference of age ; for Banks was only in his twenty -sixth
year, while Cook was upwards of forty.

On the 2.3th of August, 1768, the Endeavour sailed
from Plymouth Sound; but the jealousy of the Brazil
Government preventing them from landing at Rio dc
Janeiro, the first laud at which they touched, (except
a few days at Madeira,) was the Terra del Fuego, the
southernmost point of the great American continent.
Here Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander made extensive
botanical collections; but though it was the height of
summer in that severe climate, their attempts to ascend
the mountains were attended with extreme danger from
the severity of the snow storms and the excessive cold.
Three of their attendants perished; and Dr. Solander
could only be saved from that deep sleep which proves
the forerunner of death, by the greater activity and more

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 349

powerful constitution of his younger companion, who
succeeded himself in casting off the drowsiness by a
strong and painful effort, and was enabled also to rescue
his friend. I have more than once heard him discourse
on the subject : he described the desire of sleep which
then stole over his senses as altogether irresistible, and
ascribed its force to the effect of the cold in making all
other desires with all tlie faculties torpid. Motion seemed
to produce little effect, for the irresistible tendency was
at every step to sink down, as if the greatest suffering
was to continue alive and awake, the most delightful state
to fall asleep and expire; nor, so far as I recollect his
account, did any of them, while yielding to this propensity,
doubt that it was indulged at the cost of life itself. Dr.
Solander's case was peculiarly remarkable. Accustomed
to excessive cold in travelling among the Norwegian and
Swedish Alps, he had warned his companions of the fate
that awaited them should they yield to drowsiness. " Who-
ever," said he, "sits down, will sleep; whoever sleeps
will wake no more/' Yet was he soonest overpowered.
He insisted on being suffered to lie down. One of the
men said, " all he desired was to lay down and die."
The Doctor did not quite say so; but he acted on this
feeling. He fell asleep before he could reach the fire which
Mr. Banks had kindled. When the latter roused him, his
feet were found to be so shrunk that his shoes fell off.

On the 26th of January, 1769, they sailed from Cape
Horn, and arrived, after a prosperous voyage, at Otaheite,
on the 11 th of April. The delightful climate, pleasing
landscape, and amiable people which here met them, may
well be supposed to have enchanted men who for eight
long months had seen only the sea and the sky, unless

350 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

when they touched on the arid and inhospitable coast of
Terra del Fuego. But amid their repose and relaxation,
business never was forgotten. They spent the time that
elapsed before the Transit in astronomical observations,
and in a minute examination of the island. Mr. Banks
and his friend became thoroughly acquainted with every
branch of its natural history, but he also acquired extra-
ordinary favour and influence with the natives, insomuch
that he became the frequent arbiter in their disputes.
This ascendant he owed to his frank and manly carriage,
his perfect good humour, and his unfailing firmness, to
which we must certainly add his noble presence, so well
fitted to make an impression upon rude minds. An
important service was rendered by him, and he was
enabled to render it through the influence winch he had
thus acquired. When the observatory was established on
the 1st of May, and the instruments had been taken on
shore the evening before, it was found that the quadrant,
contained in a large packing-case, and deposited in a
tent guarded by a sentinel, had been carried off. The
whole object of the expedition was frustrated should it
not be recovered. Every search proved unavailing. At
last Mr. Banks went into the woods, and his judicious
and spirited exertions proved successful ; the precious
instrument was restored in perfect safety. In his expe-
dition he was sometimes surrounded by the crowd of
impatient and angry natives, and had to show his pistols
in order to control them. He went among them with a
single attendant only.

The event so anxiously expected, of the Transit, took
place at the time prefixed by the calculations, — June 3.
As the critical day approached, the general anxiety

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 351

increased, and it descended from the astronomer him-
self to the humblest mariner of the expedition. On
the night of the 2nd not an eye was closed. One
rose every half hour to report the state of the weather
to the rest, who were kept on the alert by the hope
which arose when the sky was reported clear, or
the fear which the mention of a cloud produced ; but
next morning, to their unspeakable delight, the sun was
seen to rise without a cloud, and the serene clear sky
continued during the day. The observations were accord-
ingly among the best of any which the different astrono-
mers made of the phenomenon. The precaution had
been taken, judiciously suggested by Lord Moreton, of
making the observation at more places than one ; and Mr.
Banks accompanied the party which was despatched for
that purpose to the Island of Eimeo. An officer was
sent to another station on the main island, while Captain
Cook and Dr. Solander remained at the fort erected at
Otaheite, with Mr. Green, who there found the first
external contact to be at 9, 25, 42, and the beginning
of emersion and the total emersion 3, 32, 10, so that
about six hours of serene and clear weather were required
for this important observation. The latitude was
17° 29' 15" south,— the longitude 149° 32' 30" west.

In the same year the transit of Mercury was afterwards
observed with equal success in the island of Major near
Mowtohera on the 9th November. The weather, though
it had been very thick for several days before, proved
most propitious on the 9th. Mr. Green made the internal
contact 12, 8, 58, the external 12, 9, 55. Captain Cook's
observation differed one second as to the former, seven
as to the latter. The latitude was 36° 48' 28" south.

352 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

From the observations of the transit of Venus by the
expedition compared with the four others in Siberia,
Lapland, Hudson's Bay, and California, the sun's paral-
lax was determined at S"*7S, and his distance from the
earth was thence deduced to be 93,726,900 miles, upon
the supposition that the radius of the earth is 3985.
The relative distances of the planets being known, those
of them all from the sun were then determined.*""

About six weeks after this important transaction, the
Endeavour proceeded on her voyage ; and first the navi-
gators cruised for some time among the group, then little
known, of the Society Islands. They next proceeded
in search of the great Southern Continent, the Terra
Australis, so long supposed to exist as a balance to the
lands of the Northern hemisphere. On the 9th of Octo-
ber it was thought to be discovered, land being on that
morning seen, with mountains of a lofty height; but it
proved to be New Zealand, discovered in 1620 by
Tasman, who called it Staaten Island, but never landed
upon it; nor had it ever been since visited. Captain
Cook during six months sailed round it, and fully
explored its coasts. He found it to consist of two large
islands. On the 31st March, 1770, he began his home-
ward voyage, and directed his course along the east coast
of New Holland, never before explored, and indeed then
quite unknown. On this voyage every opportunity was
seized of extending our knowledge, both of the natural
history and the geography of that vast region. The

* Mercury, 36,281,700; Venus, 67,795,500 ; Mars, 142,218,000;
Jupiter, 487,472,000, and Saturn, 894,162,000. — See Phil. Trans.,
vol. LX., 1574, Prof. Hawley's paper.

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 353

navigation was most perilous, because the coast is sur-
rounded with sharp coral reefs, which rise suddenly like
a wall from the water.

In spite of all difficulties he had safely run along
about 1300 miles of this unknown and savage coast,
when on the night of the 10th of June, some hours after
an alarm of being on a coral reef had been felt, but
passed away, a loud crash, foUowed quickly by a second,
too plainly told them that the vessel had struck. The
commander was instantly upon deck. I have heard
Sir Joseph Banks describe his habit of nightly making all
the arrangements, and giving all the orders which he
deemed necessary when running along an unknown coast,
and having a lee-shore under his bow. After the usual
direction to caU him if anything occurred, he would then
calmly undress and go to bed, satisfied that all precau-
tions had been taken for every event which could be
foreseen or conjectured, and he was immediately asleep.
Upon that trying occasion he was upon deck in his
drawers as the second blow was struck, and he gave his
orders with his wonted coolness and precision. The
ship had grounded on a coral reef, which surrounded her
almost to the surface of the water, but in a perfectly
calm sea made no breach, and could not be seen. She
had been carried by the waves clear over the ledge of
rock, and lay on a hollow within it, in some parts of
which the water was not more than three or four feet
deep. The light of the moon shewed, to complete their
distress, the sheathing-boards of the ship floating all
around, and at last her false keel, so that their fate
appeared imminent. It was necessary to lighten her by
all means, though the probability appeared slight of her

2 A

354 SIB JOSEPH BANKS.

holding together till another tide should enable them to
get her off. The morning disclosed a full view of their
dreadful and dismal condition. The land was at eight
leagues' distance, and no islets lay in the intermediate
sea, on which the crew could be landed and saved were
they to quit the wreck, the boats being wholly insufficient
to take all the crew at once. Nothing could possibly be
more desperate than this appearance of things. Never-
theless, the sense of imminent danger produced the
strictest discipline ; no attempts at insubordination were
perceivable ; nor any discontent ; but rather an alacrity,
approaching to cheerfulness, was shown by all ; and it was
observed that their awful situation restrained any loose
or profane expressions, so that not an oath was to be
heard any more than a murmur. To lighten the ship,
was now the first object. Every thing, therefore, was
thrown overboard which could be spared, guns, heavy
lumber, ballast, stores ; and yet two tides elapsed before
she could be got afloat. The moment of her floating was
truly an anxious one; for the water had gained so fast
that there was a great probability of her going down
when no longer supported by the rocks. Every one saw
in his neighbour's countenance a reflection of the despair
he felt himself ; but none gave way to such feelings, and
the suspense continued in silent anxiety and dread. To
their exceeding relief, at ten in the morning, when she
rode in deep water, the leak was found to gain no faster
than before, though her bottom was by that time con-
siderably damaged. The water, however, could only be
stemmed by the unceasing labour of the crew at the
pumps night and day. The men were so exhausted, that
finding the leak still gain upon them, they were on the

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 355

point of giving it up in despair when one of the midship-
men suggested the having recourse to an expedient which
he had seen practised on a voyage to America, called
fathering. It consists in drawing under the ship's
bottom a sail in which there are stitched down oakum,
flax, dung, and other thick and light substances. The
motion of the leak draws in the sail with its stuff, and
thus stops or lessens the leak. He represented this
process as having proved so successful when he saw it
tried, that the vessel was allowed to make her homeward
voyage without further repair. Happily, being now tried,
it succeeded to a wish, and enabled a single pump to keep
the leak under.

They proceeded on their voyage till a river was dis-
covered in which they could give the ship (whose name
it now bears,) the necessary repairs. But upon laying her
down and examining her bottom, they found to what a
singular circumstance they owed their providential escape.
A large fragment of the coral had forced its way through
the timber, and was found sticking in the leak so as in a
great measure to stop it, otherwise the size of the aper-
ture was such that it must have at once sent the vessel
to the bottom. The boats being wholly insufficient to
save the crew, it may easily be conceived with what feel-
ings all regarded this most extraordinary escape. Cap-
tain Cook, in his account of the voyage, gives high praise
to all, (he mentions Mr. Banks and his party expressly,)
for their cool and orderly conduct, and their firm and
active exertions during this perilous crisis.

A new calamity, however, now appeared to sadden
them, when the joy had scarcely subsided to which their
merciful escape gave rise. The scurvy began to make its

2 A 2

356 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

appearance ; and, among others, Mr. Green the astronomer,
and Tupia, a native who had accompanied them from the
wish to visit England, were so severely attacked that there
seemed no means of stemming the disease. The country
was explored to find fresh vegetables for the relief of
the sick, and Mr. Banks, with his wonted activity and skill,
served to guide these important expeditions. In the course
of them he discovered the strange quadruped since so
familiarly known both to naturalists and the vulgar,
the kangaroo. He also found a supply of fish, turtle,
and large cockles, and some vegetables, which proved a
most seasonable relief. Nor were his researches con-
cerning the manners and habits of the natives less inter-

O

esting to science ; indeed, it is principally to him that we
owe the accurate descriptions of the natives seen and
conversed with in the course of the voyage, a description
which forms a new and important chapter in the general
history of our species. In prosecuting these inquiries his
courage was as conspicuous as his activity and his judg-
ment. He would expose himself to their collected mul-
titudes when some inadvertent proceeding had roused
their anger, or would resist them when a thirst of plunder
incited them to threaten ; he would visit their habitations
unattended by any force whatever; he would sleep for
nights together on the ground at many leagues' distance
from the crew of the vessel, and accompanied only by two
or three attendants, regardless of the peril in which he must
have been placed had the natives, possibly living close
by, discovered the place of his repose.

After remaining on this coast above six weeks, they
set sail again on the 3rd of August, but it was a grievous
disappointment to find, on examining the pumps, that

- SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 357

they were all decayed and unfit for service, so that their
only trust was in the strength of the vessel's timbers.
Fortunately she made no more than an inch of water in
the hour. A gale, which soon assailed them, and lasted
for some days, did no material damage. The navigation
was, however, beset by reefs of rocks and shoals, through
the narrow openings of which they escaped almost mir-
aculously. At length, after three months of constant
peril, they burst as it were into a wide and deep sea, the
swell of which showed that no land was near. The leak,
however, had now increased to nine inches an hour, and
in two days more they were surrounded by breakers, and
in a more dangerous position than ever: nor did they
escape except by the sudden springing up of a light breeze
at the moment when they were helplessly and hopelessly
drifting on the rocks.

Then, after repairing the vessel, Captain Cook pro-
ceeded on his cruise through the most intricate navigation
in the world; then, too, first explored the track of reefs
and islands on the northern part of the east coast ; and
having now explored and laid down above two thousand
miles of coast, he formally took possession of the country
for the British crown, giving it the name of New South
Wales. From thence he proceeded to New Guinea,
which he proved to be an island separate from New Hol-
land; and, on the 9th of October he arrived at Batavia,
where it was necessary to give the ship a thorough repair.
Upon examining her bottom it was found in many places
worn to the thinness of the sole of a shoe, and in other
places it appeared that there had, since the accident, been
nothing between them and the water but a lock of wool
jammed between the planks; so small was the distance,

358 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

so feeble the barrier by which, in traversing the Indian
Ocean, they had been for weeks separated and protected
from the unfathomable deep ! The gravest malady, how-
ever, that visited the expedition, now broke out in that
pestilential climate. Seven of the crew died in a few
clays; and so many more were sick that not ten men
remained fit for duty. Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander
were so ill that their lives were despaired of, and they
were only saved by going into the country. The iron
frame of Cook himself was seen to yield; he, too, fell
seriously ill. When they set sail, 26th December, Mr.
Banks was carried on board, and his life still despaired of.
The ravages of the fever continued throughout the voyage ;
and the nightly corse was frequently heard to plunge in
the water. Before they reached the Cape, 15th March,
three-and-twenty thus perished, including Mr. Green the
astronomer, and Mr. Munkhouse, the midshipman, whose
suggestion had saved the ship. After remaining there a
month, they sailed for England. Nothing material occurred
on the voyage, and on the 12th July, 1771, the Endea-
vour cast anchor in the Downs, giving up her gallant and
prudent commander, with his adventurous company, to
the gratitude and admiration of their country.

Before the vessel was allowed to have any communica-
tion with the shore, Captain Cook required every per-
son on board to deliver up all his journals, notes, draw-
ings and other papers — a requisition which was imme-
diately and cheerfully complied with. No leave was
given to make any disclosures or any separate publication
until the Government had determined on the person into
whose hands the official accounts should be placed for
being coinrnimicated to the public. Dr. Hawkesworth

SIK JOSEPH BANKS. 359

was pitched upon, and he is allowed to have performed
his task with reasonable ability and with perfect fidelity.
Mr. Parkinson, brother of one of Sir Joseph Banks's at-
tendants, indeed his draughtsman, broke through the rule,
and published a tract with drawings; but the book was
speedily bought up by his liberal and spirited employer,
and the irregular publication proceeded no further.

The results of the voyage were highly important.
The observations necessary for ascertaining the solar
parallax had been made with perfect success. The man-
ners of the natives in the Society Islands had been exa-
mined, and the singular state of their society ascer-
tained. Their products, vegetable, mineral, and animal, as
well as those of New Holland, New Zealand, and New
Guinea, had been fully explored, chiefly by Mr. Banks
and his learned companion. The coast of New Hol-
land had been thoroughly surveyed as well as the whole
of New Zealand. These two islands had been shown
not to form a portion of any southern continent ; and
the existence of such a continent as far as the 47th
degree of south latitude had been disproved. All now
joined in rendering due praise to the leaders of the expe-
dition; and its illustrious commander was immediately
raised a step in the naval profession. But it is fit that
we here pause to reflect on the large share which Mr.
Banks had in the conduct of the expedition, that is, in
the collection of the vast and important information
which was its result — information not confined to natural
history, but extending to the manners, the habits, and
the condition of the natives. It was from the record
duly and faithfully kept of his observations that the
history of the voyage was subsequently compiled ; and Dr.

3 GO SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

Hawkcsworth (Introduction) expressly states that he felt
concerned at delivering his account in the person of the
commander, when, as to all but the nautical part, he would
have preferred making Mr. Banks speak. This was
proposed to him, " but the proposal was generously
overruled!"

Important, however, as were the results of the
voyage, it had not extended our knowledge of the
southern hemisphere beyond the 47th degree; and as
it was still supposed possible that the Terra Australia
might be in a higher latitude, to which the instruc-
tions of Capt. Cook had not before reached, a new
expedition was fitted out early in the following year,
under the same great navigator. It is impossible to
reflect without astonishment and admiration on that
ardour for the advancement of science, and that noble
disregard of both dangers and fatigues, and annoyance of
every kind, in the pursuit of his favourite object, which
could induce Mr. Banks again, after a few months of
repose, to volunteer his services. These were gladly ac-
cepted, and his preparations were made on so vast a scale
as required, even with his ample means, the raising of
money by way of loan. He engaged Zoffany, the painter,
and three draughtsmen ; he took two secretaries and nine
servants, well versed in the art of preserving plants and
animals; all the books, drawings, and instruments re-
quired for his studies, and all the stores which so numer-
ous a suite could desire, were provided with profusion, and
everything seemed ready for his joining the expedition
when the constant thwarting which lie received at each
turn from the Navy Board, especially from its chief, the
Comptroller, wore out his patience, and he reluctantly

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 361

abandoned this enterprise so near his heart. The name
of the wrong-doer must not be suffered to perish, and
thus escape the scorn which it so well deserves from each
friend of science, and of a liberal and enlightened national
policy ; nor must it be concealed even because of the great
service he had before rendered by his patronage of Oapt.
Cook. The Comptroller who thus thwarted both the
wishes of the scientific world and the views of his own
official superiors, probably from being one that

Hated learning worse than toad or asp,

was Sir Hugh Palliser. The common report that Capt.
Cook had himself objected to and frustrated Sir Joseph's
plan of accompanying him, appears contrary to all pro-
bability, and it rests on no evidence whatever. A letter
of the Captain's is given in the Appendix, and it betokens
au entire disposition to aid his friend and fellow voyager
in his arrangements.

Mr. Banks, however, was determined not altogether to
lose the fruits of his extensive and costly preparations for
an expedition which he was thus prevented from joining.
He fitted out a voyage to Iceland, which he undertook
with his trusty and tried friend, Dr. Solander, and with
a Swedish clergyman, Dr. Von Troil, of Iceland. In-
cluding draughtsmen, secretaries, seamen and attendants,
there were forty persons in company ; and in August,
1772, they reached the island. They remained there for
a month, examining everything that related to its natural
history, and especially the volcano, Hecla, and the
boiling springs, Reykum and Geyser, for which it is
famous. A rich collection of books and manuscripts was
likewise purchased, and presented by Mr. Banks to the

362 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

British Museum. Dr. Voii Troil, who afterwards became
Archbishop of Upsal, published a full and interesting
account of the voyage. Mr. Banks left the subject in
his hands with his wonted aversion to the pursuit of
literary fame, and his undervaluing of all but the exer-
tions required to perform great or useful actions.

After his return to England, he settled in London,
except the short period every summer which he passed at
Revesby, his seat in Lincolnshire. His hospitality in
the country was quite unbounded, and extended to all
parties and all classes. His house in Soho Square was
with its noble library, and precious collection of maps,
drawings, and engravings, connected with botany, and the
various branches of natural history, always open to the
student and the author. Foreigners as well as natives
were ever his welcome guests, and it was his delight to
be surrounded by the cultivators and the promoters of
science in all its branches.

In 1777, Sir John Pringle resigned his office as Pre-
sident of the Royal Society, and in Nov. 1778. Mr.
Banks was chosen his successor. He lost no time in
devoting himself with his accustomed ardour to the duties
of his high station, and for some years his administration
was carried on with general approval. But the person
who undertakes to reform abuses in any public depart-
ment, must lay his account with making enemies; and
though these may be at the first few in number, and of
little weight, they form a centre, around which will soon
gather all, who on any account are discontented ; all who
regard a superior with envy or an exalted equal with
jealous}^; not seldom all who would fain displace him,
and succeed to his station. So it fared with Mr. Banks ;

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 363

for he too, had early perceived, and speedily checked
some manifest abuses. The chief of these was the ease
with which the door of the Society was opened, to admit
all who desired to be Fellows. The Secretaries might be
said almost to elect them at their pleasure ; for whoever
wished to add the title of F.R.S. to his name, on the title
of a book, or as a Divine seeking preferment, or as a
Physician in quest of practice, had only to become ac-
quainted with these officers, and obtain their good will.
Their constant intercourse with the members gave them so
many opportunities of recommendation, that the election
was quite secure of any whom, they chose to favour.
The President was little consulted, whose especial duty
it, however, is, to preserve the purity of election, and to
see that improper or improvident choice be not made.
It is well known that D'Alembert, in allusion to the ex-
treme prodigality with which the honours of the fellow-
ship were distributed, was in use to ask jocularly any
person going to England, if he desired to be made a
member, as he could easily obtain it for him, should he
think it any honour. The new President was resolved
that this should no longer be allowed, and though the
unlimited number of its fellows must always prevent the
place of F.R.S. from being an object of so much value
and of so much desire as that of an Academician in
France, he thought that at all events it should be re-
stored to somewhat of its primitive value, by being no
longer indiscriminately bestowed. Two principles were
laid down by him; first, that any person who had suc-
cessfully cultivated science, especially by original investi-
gations, should be admitted, whatever might be his rank
or his fortune ; secondly, that men of wealth or station,

364 SIE JOSEPH BANKS.

disposed to promote, adorn, and patronise science, should,
but with due caution and deliberation, be occasionally
allowed to enter. There can be no objection to these
principles, or to limiting the choice in future to cases thus
defined. It is to be lamented that an end was not also
put to the extremely absurd and even degrading statute
by which, while all others must have their claims pub-
lished twelve weeks before being considered, Peers and
Privy Councillors may be balloted for the moment they
are proposed — a law every way bad in itself, and worse
in its execution, for that which is really intended as dis-
tinction, is in practice regarded as unimportant, and the
claim of no person of rank is ever subjected to the least
scrutiny ; he is chosen at once on being proposed. But
the other and pressing case of abuse, the indiscriminate
election, was at once corrected by Mr. Banks, and with a
firm hand. lie announced to the secretaries and mem-
bers his determination to watch over the applications for
admission, and the election by ballot. Previous to the
election, he spoke to the members who usually attended;
he gave his opinion freely on the merits of candidates,
and when he considered a rejection proper, he hesitated
not to advise it — giving his opinion, and recommending,
or asking a black-ball from individuals at the time of the
ballot. The consequence was the rejection of several
persons, and this was afterwards made the chief ground
of attack upon him in the dissensions which unfortunately
broke out, and for some time grievously disturbed the
peace of the Society.

The immediate occasion of these dissensions, however,
was an accident of a different kind. The office of
Secretary for Foreign Correspondence had been conferred

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 365

upon Dr. Charles Ilutton, a mathematician of distinguished
reputation, and whose official duties at the Royal Academy
of Woolwich obliged him to reside there. Some neglect
of his duties as Secretary was said to have been thus
occasioned. Upon examination, the charge was found to
rest on very insufficient grounds; and the childish com-
plaint of M. Bonnet, of Geneva, that a dry and laconic
answer had been returned to his letter, accompanying a
present of his works, really appears to be the only re-
mains of the accusation which a full inquiry left standing
against Dr. Hutton/" It was a much more serious charge,
that he held no communication with the President; and
certainly this was mainly imputable to his residing at a
distance. The Council passed a resolution, 20th
November, 1783, recommending that the Foreign Secre-
tary should reside in London, and Dr. Hutton tendered
his resignation. The emoluments of the office were only
twenty pounds a-year, from a bequest of Mr. Keck half a
century before ; and Dr. Hutton having to hire chambers
in town for the performance of his official duties, had
been in reality a loser by holding the place.

This resolution of the Council, and resignation of the
Foreign Secretary, immediately caused a great sensation
in the Society. It appears that the embers of discon-
tent with the President's administration had been for
some time smouldering; and now the spark accidentally
flung, made the embers break out in a flame. Dr.

* The feeble and very trimming tract of Dr. Kippis on these dis-
putes, seriously represents the dry style of Dr. Hutton's letter as
worthy of blame. The Doctor desiderated more courtesy, that is,
flummery after the foreign fashion.

366 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

Maskelyne, the Astronomer Royal, really considered his
friend Dr. Hutton as ill-treated; so might Baron
Maseres, and one or two others; but the most active
mover, who indeed took the lead in the opposition to
the Council, was Dr. Horsley, a priest of intolerant
nature, of extreme arrogance, of violent temper, and
guided by a most inflated estimate of his own import-
ance as a cultivator of mathematical science, in which
capacity he was nearly if not altogether insignificant.
Finding himself joined with Dr. Maskelyne and Baron
Maseres, he chose to hoist a standard for the mathema-
tical sciences in opposition to natural history, which the
President and his especial friends chiefly cultivated; and
he considered the treatment of Dr. Hutton to be an overt
act of hostility to those studies to which he untruly
represented his own life as devoted.

The motion was carried, by a majority of thirty to
twenty-five, that Dr. Ilutton be thanked for his services
as Foreign Secretary; and Sir Joseph Banks's party
committed their first error in opposing this proposition,
on a ground, plausible, but wholly insufficient, that the
Council alone, and not the Society at large, had the means
of judging how far the duties of Dr. Button's office had
been well performed. The New Council coming into office
29th November, affirmed, with a single dissentient voice,
the resolution of their predecessors, requiring the Foreign
Secretary to reside in London. Before the next meeting
of the Society, Dr. Mutton's written defence was read,
and a resolution was passed by a large majority (45 to
15), that, "if he had been censured, he had fully justi-
fied himself." Here the matter might hare ended, and
here it certainly would have ended, had the case of Dr.

SIR JOSEPH BAKES. 367

Hutton alone furnished the matter of dispute. But it was
the occasion, not the cause of the dissension. A party
had clearly been formed against the President: at the
head of that party Dr. Horsley had placed himself; he had
raised an absurd cry that the mathematics were neglected,
and botany alone patronised ; and he was plainly looking
to eject Sir Joseph Banks, and raise himself to the chair.
This enabled the latter to commit his second great error
— the calling in members who were only titular, and
never took a part in the ordinary business of the Society,
any more than they were capable of sharing in its
labours. These came down on the 8th January, 1784, in
great numbers ; and, after a long debate, they carried, by
a large majority of 119 to 42, a vote of confidence, " ap-
proving of Sir Joseph Banks as President, and resolving
to support him in his office." At a subsequent meeting,
a motion for rescinding the resolution of the Council on
the residence of the Foreign Secretary, was lost by a
majority of 85 to 47; as were afterwards, by still larger
majorities, three several motions, censuring all endeavours
of the President to influence the votes of members by
solicitation, either on elections or on any other matters.
The two most important of these motions were lost by
115 to 27, the other by 102 to 23. Mr. Maty, a person
of some accomplishments, of amiable character, of hasty,
fickle temper, who had warmly sided with the President's
opponents, soon after resigned his place as one of the
ordinary secretaries; Dr. Blagden was chosen his suc-
cessor by 139 to 39, Dr. Hutton being the other candidate.
It was possibly a third error of the President, that he
sought for a defender in a learned equity barrister, the
Accountant-general, Mr. Anguish, who was unknown in

368 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

the Society for any philosophic attainments; while the
opposite party, in availing themselves of Mr. Poore's and
Mr. Watson's aid, had advocates who were respected in
the literary world,

The main charge used in these debates against the

President, was his interference with elections; and this

was loudly objected to, both as overbearing, even

despotic, and as having excluded several persons, worthy

of the honour they sought. The general objection was

wholly groundless. Sir Joseph Banks only interfered as

he was bound by the duty of his office to interfere ; and

if his frank and manly nature, despising all indirect roads

to his object, scorning all covert proceedings to attain

that which he felt bound to seek — the honour and the

advantage of the Society — made him openly state his

objections to candidates, and openly ask his brethren

to join in rejecting them, instead of canvassing against

them in the dark, no better reason can be assigned for

loudly applauding the course which he took. That he

might have committed mistakes in one or two instances

is equally certain. The rejection of Major Desbarres,

already mentioned as a pupil of Bernouilli's, and the

instructor of Captain Cook, and soon after appointed to

a foreign government, was the strongest case cited ; the

only other person of admitted merit, among the twelve

black-balled in four years, was Mr. Henry Clarke of

Manchester, schoolmaster, and a writer of some merit

on mathematical subjects; and all admitted that the

President's interference had proved most useful to the

Society's honour, in carrying the rejection of four or five

unworthy candidates. These, under the old and lax

system, would in all probability have found their way

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 369

into the Society, though their object only was to use the
title of Fellows as a snare for enticing customers.'"

As for the charge of favouring natural history at the
expense of the severer sciences, never was anything more
unfounded. Full as many papers had been received and
printed by Sir Joseph Banks's Council on the latter
subject, as had ever been so treated in any other period ;
quite as small a proportion of papers upon the former. The
Copley medal, five times bestowed, had been thrice given to
mathematical and astronomical papers, twice to chemical ;
and I may add, never either then or since, to papers upon
the subjects which the President was supposed most to
favour. The appearance of a naturalist in the chair was
a phenomenon by no means now first observed in the
sphere of the Society. Sir Isaac Newton himself had
been succeeded by Sir Hans Sloane, who filled the chair
fourteen years, and preceded by Lord Somers, whose
eminence is certainly not scientific, though it may be of
a higher order. Of the nineteen Presidents before Sir
Joseph Banks, nearly, if not quite the greater number
were men of eminent station, who never, either before or
after their elevation to the chair, were known to have
cultivated, much less improved, any branch of " natural
knowledge." Nor let it be supposed, as Dr. Horsley and
his more factious adherents used to represent, that none
but botanists opposed their proceedings, and sided with
the President. The names of Cavendish, Watson,
Fordyce, Heberden, Hunter, Kirwan, are quite sufficient,
both in number and value, to rescue Sir J. Banks' sup-
porters from that imputation, and to take from their

* One was the patentee of a new water-closet.

2B

370 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

adversaries all pretence that they had a monopoly of
important science.

Although the majorities were obtained and the debates
chiefly carried on by men who did not usually attend,
there can be no doubt that the Society was greatly
benefited by their interference. The asperity which had
marked the progress of the contest was testified in the
speeches of the opposition leader, Dr. Ilorsley. He had,
moreover, given a great and threatening notice of so
many motions as might occupy the Society for the whole
session, and until the annual period came round for
electing the officers, when he plainly hinted his hope
that another President would be chosen. The haughti-
ness of this arrogant ecclesiastic's tone in the debates
gave general offence, even to those who might be dis-
posed to admit the cleverness of his speeches. When,
perceiving a defeat approaching, he threatened a seces-
sion of the mathematical party, he exclaimed, " The
President will then be left with his train of feeble ama-
teurs and that toy* upon the table; — the ghost of the
Society in which Philosophy once reigned, and Newton
presided as her minister."

To have saved the Society from such a consumma-
tion as being under Dr. Horsley's presidency was truly a
service of the highest value, which, in a somewhat
unusual though certainly not an irregular manner, was
rendered by the members who attended and resisted the
factious combination. His assuming the station of leader

o

among the mathematicians was altogether preposterous;
and he might have been raised to the chair, by dint of the

* The mace, to which he pointed.

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 371

intrigue which he set on foot, and the ferment which he ex-
cited in the bosom of the Society, without any victory what-
ever being gained for mathematical and physical science.
His writings had never placed him higher than a mere
" amateur," and a somewhat " feeble amateur" in all
essentials, though stout enough in the overbearing lan-
guage of his polemical writings, and magniloquent enough
in the diction of his self-laudatory prefaces. Some of
his efforts are merely puerile, like the Sieve of Erato-
sthenes, which he tried, he says, " Dlis propitiis usus;"
some are far too easy to confer any fame, like the
restoration of Apollonius's Inclinations ; while his great
attempt, an edition of Newton, is confessed by all to be
as signal a failure as any on record in the history of
science. *

* The reader who compares Bishop Horsley's praises of his own
exploits with the exploits themselves, will readily concur in Pro-
fessor Playfair's opinion of them expressed delicately but sharply
in the fourth volume of the ' Edinburgh Review.' He has not
indeed entered into particulars, as to the great failure, the
' Newton.' But who can read an edition of the ' Principia/ the
' Optics/ and the ( Fluxions/ published in 1778 — 80, and not marvel
at the author's apparent ignorance of all that had been done since
Sir I. Newton's time ? There is not a word of the Calculus of
Variations or of Partial Differences, — not an allusion to D'Alembert's
principle of Dynamics, — nor to the objection of the Bernouillis and
D'Alembert, touching the Hydraulic Cataract; — no reference to the
progress of Hydrodyuamical science ; — nor to the discoveries of Dol-
lond and others on refraction. Indeed the 'Optics' is given almost
without note or comment, while the comments on the ' Principia '
are only upon passages of no difficulty, leaving the darker ones in
their original obscurity, unless where reference is made to the com-
mentary of Le Sueur and Jacquier, — Vargnon and Herman and tho
Bernouillis are unnoticed. In short no one can read the book,
however cursorily, and rise from its perusal with the least respect

2 B 2

372 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

The escape from such a chief was further enhanced
in value by the excellent qualities of him whom the
victory kept in the chair. He showed no jealousy of any
rival, no prejudice in one person's favour rather than
another's. He was equally accessible to all, for counsel
and for help ; where his own knowledge did not suffice,
he could easily obtain the aid of those more devoted to
the subject of the application. His house, his library, his
whole valuable collections, were at all times open to
men of science ; while his credit, both with our own and
foreign Governments, and, if need were, the resource of
his purse, was ever ready to help the prosecution of their
inquiries. I know of many persons, since eminent, who
when only tyros in science, and wholly unknown to fame,
have been patronized by him ; and one of these tells me,
with grateful recollection, of the kindness he experienced
in his younger days from that useful and liberal patron,
" who would (says my friend) send all over Europe and
further to get either the information or the thing that I
wished to have." Where private aid failed of the desired
effects, he had access to the Government ; he could obtain
countenance and assistance from the public departments,
beside removing those many and so often insurmount-
able obstacles which the forms of office and the prejudices
of official men plant in the way of literary research.

Many circumstances concurred to give Sir Joseph Banks
the power which he so largely exercised of patronizing
and promoting the labours of scientific men. His ample

for the Right Reverend Editor, or the least disposition to admit his
claim either as head of the mathematicians whom he marshalled to
defeat, or as aspiring to fill the Society's chair.

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 373

fortune ; the station which he filled in society ; the favour
which he enjoyed at Court and with the Ministers of
the Crown ; the fame of his voyages ; his indefatigable
industry; his ever-wakeful attention to the representa-
tions and requests of the student ; his entire freedom from
all the meaner feelings which mere literary men are but
too apt to entertain one towards another ; his great natural
quickness and unerring sagacity, never leaving him long
to seek for the point of any argument, nor ever suffering
him to be deceived by plausible errors or designing par-
ties; his large and accurate knowledge of mankind, and
of men as well as of man; the practical wisdom which
he had gathered from extensive and varied experience —
all formed in him an assemblage of qualities, natural and
acquired, extrinsic or accidental, and intrinsic or native,
so rare as had hardly ever met together in any other
individual.

. . . Quid virtus et quid sapientia possit
Utile proposuit nobis exemplar Ulyssem.
..... Multorum providus urbes
Et mores hominum inspexit ; latumque per aequor
Dum sibi, dum sociis reditum parat, aspera multa
Pertulit adversis rerum immersabilis undis.

(Hor.

He was thus for upwards of forty years the great
promoter of philosophical pursuits ; and it may fairly be
said, that no one, either before or since his time, ever
occupied the high station in which he was placed with
such eminent advantage to the interests of the scientific
world.

His own studies continued, as they always had
been, devoted to natural history ; and botany was the
portion of it which he chiefly loved to cultivate. He

374 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

was, perhaps, the most accomplished botanist of his day,
and among the very first in the other branches of natural
history. During the greater part of his life his time and
his fortune were assiduously bestowed on the preparation
of a magnificent series of botanical drawings and en-
gravings. But he never retained any of these, as it were,
locked up for his own gratification ; and his habitual in-
difference to literary fame made him so slowr to publish,
that he is believed to have as constantly given over to
other cultivators of the same studies the fruits of his own
labour, as these fruits were ripened and ready to be
gathered in : and while all men's books were crowded

o ?

with his designs, and all men's inquiries promoted by the
stores of his knowledge, he alone reaped no fame from
his researches, nor profited by the treasures which he had
amassed, except by the gratification of seeing them made
subservient to the progress of his favourite pursuits.

A baronetcy had been bestowed on him in 1780,
and in 1795 he was invested with the Order of the Bath ;
a rare instance in those clays of this distinction being
bestowed on any but a military or a diplomatic person.
Not, however, by any means the first instance; for Sir
Robert Atkins, the Chief Baron, was also a Knight of the
Order. In 1 79 7, he was made a Privy Councillor. He
was chosen Recorder of Boston on the Duke of Ancas-
ter's death. Though often pressed to take a scat in
Parliament, he always declined. The favour which he
enjoyed with George III. was of long standing: that
Prince loved the manly frankness of his character, the
courage with which he had so often exposed himself to
danger in the pursuit of knowledge, and the firmness
with which his conduct was marked on all trying occasions.
Sir Joseph's political principles, too, those of a high tory,

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 375

were much to the Monarch's liking; and a country gen-
tleman who never troubled himself with Parliamentary
life, nor ever desired to rise above the rank he was born
to, was sure to find a friend in His Majesty. Though a
tory, and very firm in his opinions, both in Church and
State, he was anything rather than a party man. He
never interfered in politics beyond using his legitimate
influence in Lincolnshire and Derbyshire, where his
property lay, to aid those country gentlemen whom he
believed fitted to make useful representatives of the
landed interest ; and so entirely devoid of common party
feelings was his use of this influence, that he always
supported Lord Yarborough, then Mr. Pelham, a whig,
as well as Mr. Chaplin, a tory. This just and impartial
conduct was not displeasing to the King; and among
other marks of good-will, was his recommending to Sir
Joseph an attention to agricultural pursuits. I have
heard him say that he took to farming by the King's
desire. He pursued this pleasing occupation with his
characteristic energy, and understood its principles tho-
roughly, as he practised it with far more than the
success that usually attends amateurs. When the King
fell hopelessly ill, in 1811, I well remember Sir Joseph
Banks saying, he had ceased since then being a farmer,
having only "taken up the trade by His Majesty's
commands."

A common story is to be found in the slight at-
tempts that have been made to write his life, as if
the Ministers were used occasionally to employ his
personal influence with the King, to obtain his consent
to measures which he disliked. I will venture to give
this statement a very peremptory contradiction. I am
pretty confident that he never would have undertaken

376 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

any such mission; but I ani perfectly certain that the
King never would have suffered Sir Joseph to approach
him on any subject of the kind. This opinion I can
state the more emphatically, since my worthy friend Sir
E. Knatchbull, who did me the favour of examining
this Life, gives me the most positive assurance of his
uncle never having at all interfered, as the story asserts
he did. An interference of a very different description
he did exert, and with the happiest results. During the
long war, which desolated the world by land and by sea,
after the year 1792, he constantly exerted himself to
mitigate its evils, and alleviate its pressure upon men of
science and upon the interests of philosophy. It was
owing to him that our Government issued orders in
favour of La Perouse, wheresoever our fleets should come
in contact with that unfortunate navigator. When D'En-
trecasteaux was sent in search of him, and Billardiere's
collections were captured and brought to England, Sir
Joseph Banks had them restored to him, and without even
opening to examine them, as if he feared that any one
should profit by any discoveries save their rightful owner,
the author. On ten several occasions did he procure
the restoration to the Jardin des Plantes of collections
addressed to that noble establishment, and which had
fallen a prey to our naval superiority. He sent to the
Cape of Good Hope, to recover some charts belonging
to Humboldt, which our cruizers had seized, and in
no instance would he suffer the expenses he had under-
gone to be repaid. He even interfered to remedy
injuries which foreign nations had inflicted on scien-
tific men. Broussonet had fled from France to save his
life from the anarchists of Paris. Sir Joseph Banks
directed his correspondents in Spain and in Portugal to

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 377

supply his wants ; and he found a friendly purse open to
him both at Madrid and at Lisbon. Dolomieu, cast
into a dungeon in Sicily by the tyranny of the profligate
and cruel Queen, experienced the humanity of Sir Joseph
during a long captivity, although his unwearied efforts
to obtain his liberation failed of success. His own
countrymen, when detained by the arbitrary and perfi-
dious policy of Napoleon, were in repeated instances
indebted to Sir Joseph Banks for their permission to
return home ; and a learned friend of mine, one of the
first Oriental scholars of the age, the late Professor
Hamilton, must have perished at Verdun but for his
generous interference. By his interposition the Institute
exerted itself in various other cases; and whenever
it could be made to appear that a man of science
or of letters was among the detained, no very strict scru-
tiny being exercised either by Sir Joseph or his Paris
colleagues, the order for his liberation was applied for
and obtained.

In 1802 he was chosen one of the Foreign Members
of that illustrious body, and in acknowledging this high
honour he expressed his gratitude in warm terms. Much
offence was given to the zealots of the Anti-Gallican
party in this country ; the remains of Bishop Horsley's
party were roused to censure him; an anonymous attack
upon him was published in the daily papers, and after-
wards acknowledged to have proceeded from the Bishop ;
Mr. Cobbett, then as bitter an enemy of France and of
peace as he soon afterwards became a zealous friend,
addressed a letter to the Members of the Royal Society,
calling upon them to depose the President from the
chair, because he had called the Institute the first literary

378 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

body in Europe ; but the silly faction and the paltry
storm it had raised, soon sank into their natural insigni-
ficance, and all men of sense saw plainly that nothing in
the complimentary language of his letter exceeded the
ordinary limits of such compositions, or betokened the
least want of respect for his own Society."

His assiduous cultivation of natural history, and his
devotion to agricultural pursuits, did not prevent him
from taking the most active part in promoting the dis-
covery of unknown regions, the most favourite of all
his pursuits. He was the real founder of the African
Association; and it is well known that when Ledyard,
the most accomplished of the travellers next to Mungo
Park, was in want of support on his celebrated journey, it
was on Sir Joseph Banks that he drew a bill, which in
the remote region where the traveller then was, found
an immediate honour and discount. The captivity of
Flinders, whom I have heard him more than once com-
pare to Cook, was greatly mitigated by his exertions and
influence with the French Government ; and he not only
promoted discovery with all his means to the end of his
life, but applied himself vigorously to improving the
discoveries successively made to the real use of mankind.
The good treatment of the aborigines was ever a main
object of his humane exertions. He it was who may be
truly said to have planted and founded the colony of

* If Mr. Cobbett was ever less happy on one occasion than
another, it was when he meddled with such subjects. He congra-
tulated his country in one of his papers on Captain Glennie having
discovered the quadrature of the circle, — the captain having gained
his scientific fame, in Cobbett's eyes, by joining in the combination
against the Duke of York3 a year or two before.

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 379

Botany Bay. He it was, too, who suggested the means
of transplanting the bread-fruit tree from the South
Sea Islands, to the West Indies, (the object of Captain
Bligli's unfortunate voyage,) and of also naturalizing
there the mango of Bengal. The fruits of Ceylon and
of Persia were successfully, through his exertions and
experiments, brought from thence to the West Indies
and to Europe. So little did his love of plants end, like
that of other botanists, in mere description and classifica-
tion, in the composition of a catalogue, or the preparation
of a Herbal ! Horticulture, indeed, was a subject the
usefulness of which was sure strongly to attract hi
care, and accordingly the Society for its improvement
owed its success, if not its origin, to him. The British
Museum was a constant object of his anxious care, and
during the forty-two years of his official trusteeship he
paid unremitting attention to its concerns, and largely
endowed it with presents; he bequeathed to it his
noble library and all his principal collections.

I have already said that his published works bore no
proportion either to his scientific labours or his exertions
in behalf of learned men. They consisted only of some
tracts on agricultural and horticultural subjects, as the
mildew in wheat, and Merino sheep— on Indian and spring
wheat — on the Spanish chesnut — on Roman forcing-
houses — and some others.

For the last thirty years of his life, Sir Joseph Banks
suffered frequently and severely from gout; and during
the last fourteen years he was so much a martyr to it,
that he could take no exercise on foot. He tried various
expedients to lessen the violence of the attacks, such as
giving up the use of fermented liquors, and abstaining

380 SIB JOSEPH BANKS.

entirely from animal food; but if the fits were less
severe, their recurrence was more frequent. Small
doses of Husson's medicine were latterly resorted to with
considerable effect; and with his wonted sagacity and
firmness he met the objections of those who urged how
certain the tendency of that cure was to shorten life, by
asking "how many years they supposed he could hope to
live if he took none of itl" At last he gradually sank
under the exhausting effects of this ailment, after having
for a considerable length of time entirely lost the use of
his lower limbs. He died at his villa of Spring Grove,
Hounslow, 19th June, 1820, in the seventy-eighth year of
his age, after suffering with the greatest cheerfulness for
many years the pains of this tormenting malady, and its
debilitating effects, much more intolerable to one of his
active habits and strong animal spirits.

The directions of his will were characteristic of his
tastes as a lover of science, and its provisions truly marked
the man, ever careless of the fame of great and good
actions, and only intent on performing them. — To Mr.
Brown, his librarian, he gave an annuity of 200/., with
the use of his library and collections, on condition that
he should continue his studies in natural history, and
assist in superintending the Botanic Garden at Kew.—
To Mr. Bauer, who had been his draughtsman for thirty
years, he gave an annuity of 300/., on condition of his
continuing to reside at Kew, and to carry on the draw-
ings of the Kew plants. — He gave the whole collection of
the Kew drawings to the King, and strongly recommended
the appointment of a resident draughtsman, being of
opinion that no botanic garden can be complete without
one. He adds, that he had hoped this truth would have

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 381

obtained from the Government a salary for Mr. Bauer,
but if not, he charges it on his Lincolnshire estates. So
far the bequests. The directions were, that he should be
interred in the parish where he might happen to die; he
entreated his relatives to spare themselves the affliction
of attending the ceremony; and he earnestly requested
that they would not erect any monument to his memory.
He left his widow surviving; she was the daughter
and co-heiress of Mr. Hugessen, of Provender in Kent,
and had been married to him in 1779. His mother only
died in 1804, at a very advanced age; and his sister,
who always resided with him, died in 1818. He never
had any children ; and his large estates devolved upon
his wife's relations, the Knatchbull and Stanhope families,
the late Sir E. Knatchbull having married Lady Banks'
sister, and co-heiress with her ; and his property in Derby-
shire and Lincolnshire being left by his will to Colonel
Stanhope, brother of the present Earl, who was the grand-
son of his aunt, Margaret Eleanor Banks, by Henry
Grenville, brother of Earl Temple. Sir E. Knatchbull,
his nephew by marriage, was appointed executor of his
last will.

( 382 )

APPENDIX.

I.

CAPT. COOK TO MR. BANKS.

" DEAR SIR,

" I received a note from Mr. Marsh, of the Victual-
ling Office, wherein he desires that we will call upon him on
Friday morn, as he is obliged to attend at the Admiralty on
Thursday. I left a line at your house yesterday, desiring to
know your sentiments concerning a stove for the cabin, it
being necessary the officers of Deptford Yard should know
how to act. If you approve of a green baize floor-cloth for
the great cabin, I will demand as much cloth from the Yard
as will make one. As you mean to furnish the cabin well,
I think you should have brass locks and hinges to the doors,
&c., this, however, will be a private affair of your own, as
nothing of this kind is allowed; the round-house will be
fitted in this manner at my expense. — Thus far I had got
with this letter when your note arrived : I think it a good
thought to take Mr. Buzagio's stove with you, as it may be
very useful on many occasions. I shall go to Deptford
to-morrow to give directions about the other. Whenever
it is certain that Dr. Lynd goes with us, I beg you will
let me know by the penny post. My respects to the Dr.*,
and am,

« Dear Sir,

" Your very humble servant,

" JAMES COOK.
" Monday Evening, Six o'clock."

Dr. Solander,

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 383

DR. PRIESTLEY TO MR. BANKS.*

" DEAR SIR, "Leeds, December 10, 1771-

" After the letter which I received about a fortnight
ago from Mr. Eden, who informed me that he wrote at your
request, I cannot help saying that yours and his, which I
have now received, appear a little extraordinary. In the
former letter there was far from being the most distant hint
of any objection to me, provided I would consent to accom-
pany you. You now tell me that, as the different Professors
of Oxford and Cambridge will have the naming of the
person, and they are all clergymen, they may possibly have
some scruples on the head of religion ; and that, on this
account, you do not think you could get me nominated at
any rate, much less on the terms which were first mentioned
to me. Now what I am, and what they are, with respect to
religion, might easily have been known before the thing was
proposed to me at all. Besides, I thought that this had been
a business of philosophy and not of divinity. If, however,
this be the case, I shall hold the Board of Longitude in
extreme contempt, and make no scruple of speaking of them
accordingly, taking it for granted that you have just ground
for your suspicions.

" I most sincerely wish you a happy voyage, as I doubt
not it will be greatly to the emolument of science ; but I am
surprised that the persons who have the chief influence in
this expedition, having (according to your representation)
minds so despicably illiberal, should give any countenance
to so noble an undertaking; and I am truly sorry that a
person of your disposition should be subject to a choice
restricted by such narrow considerations.

" I am, dear Sir,
" Your obedient, humble servant,

" J. PRIESTLEY."

See ' Life of Pries tley,' vol. i.

384 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

" To GEO. ROSE, ESQ., TREASURY CHAMBERS.

" MY DEAR SlR, "Soho Square, March 2nd, 1787.

"By an Arret, dated April 23, 1775, M. Turgot took
off all kinds of droits from books imported under the most
general description, as "relies ou vieux ou neufs." I wish
I had his Eloge, in which the compliments paid him on
the occasion are pretty. I have sent to borrow it from Lord
Lansdowne's library, but his Lordship has not yet risen after
the fatigues of last night. The exemption is still continued,
as may be seen in the Recueil des Droits, printed last year.

" Far be it from me to press the subject. I shall always
consider literature as under great obligations to Mr. Pitt,
who scrupled not a moment to forbid the additional tax
intended by the compilers of the rate-book; but sure he
might, by giving up a very small receipt, oblige a numerous
body whose claim of exemption has been acceded to by the
French nation, which circumstance, however, I only wish to
bring forward as my apology for the trouble I have given.

" Should it be thought expedient to continue the tax upon
bound books, lest the bookbinders might suffer, a clause
allowing a quarter of a hundred instead of under ten pounds
for each man's private books would make strangers easy; and
in that case, if the unbound were quite given up, with only
the proviso against books of which editions are extant, printed
in England, we should be secured from piracy, and a small
portion indeed of revenue sacrificed.

"In France those who attempt to import a pirated edition
are very roughly handled by other laws.
"Believe me, dear Sir,

" Most faithfully,
"Your obliged humble servant,

"Jos. BANKS."

" MR. PARKINSON, „ July 1?thj 1809

:f I am not certain that I well understand what Mr.
Lacy has been doing in his capacity of Inspector; his aim I
conclude in surcharging my tenant at a higher rent than my
farms are let for, is a trick by which he expects to obtain an

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 385

increased tax on the lands I hold in my own hands; he dares
not, I am confident, venture even to suppose that I have let my
land collusively, or received any fine or other consideration in
hand to lower the amount of the reserved rent.

" I let my land, as you know, at a rent which I think and
believe to be its real value, that is, I take to myself such a
share of the produce as ought in my opinion to belong to the
landlord, leaving the tenant what in my opinion he ought to
have as his share, and I do not calculate this idly or by guess.
You have laid before me on divers occasions what the produce
of a farm will be, if well managed in an average season, stating
the gross amount of receipt on each article of produce valued
at an average price, such as you and I think likely to be per-
manent; of this sum you and I allot what we think necessary
for the cultivation of the farm, what we think the tenant
ought to have to pay his household, pay his tithes, rates and
taxes, and allow some savings to him if he is industrious and
frugal; the rest is apportioned to me as my share, and more
than that portion no landlord ought to take, and in fact most
landlords of gentlemen's families and liberal educations are
contented with such a proportion.

"Those who exact higher rents, who have no feeling for
the oppression of their tenants, who employ attorneys as
their stewards, or keep lawyers in pay by retaining fees to
watch over their interests, and recover arrears from their
tenants when they can no longer support their families, and
who are at last compelled to deduct from their net profits the
cost of law charges, the losses suffered by tenants unable to
pay the whole of the arrears, and the increase of poor's rates
on their estates, which must arise from the persons who used
to pay them being reduced to the necessity of receiving them
or of starving, are surely not to be considered as examples
which Government wishes to hold up for imitation, and compel
humane men to adopt.

"If I am mistaken in the rate I have set upon my lands
as rent, the Commissioners will by enforcing the surcharges
put me right; I must in that case raise the farms not in lease
to the rent they consider as a proper one : Government will
in that case have the credit of raising my estate very much to

2 C

386 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

my emolument, as I must receive 18s. for every 2s. they get,
but the whole of the unpopularity of the measure must rest
on their shoulders.

"Thus much for my tenants: for the lands I hold in
hand, I have no objection, if the Commissioners choose to
rate me so, to pay at the value fixed upon it by the quality
men; they acted under parliamentary sanction, and upon
their oaths; they are persons over whom I have no kind of
influence, and if I had, I should have urged them to value as
high as possible, because in that case I should get the greater
share of the Fen to be divided. I have, however, entirely
acquiesced in their valuation, and have received my share of
Wildmore Fen at their rate ; am I therefore to receive under
the sanction of one Act of Parliament at a low rate, and to
be taxed under another Act at a high one ? English policy
does not admit such an idea, and I doubt whether it would
be well received in Turkey or in Barbary; besides, no increase
in the value of stock has taken place since this valuation was
made.

"I thank you much for having provided me with a pony.
I can do without it till I come to Revesby: you will by that
time be perfectly acquainted with its qualities. Perfect sure-
footedness is my great object. I am weak; and if a horse
should fall under me, I cannot hold myself upon him.

"You were right in telling the Fen Commissioners, that
if they do not allow to the soke their just rights over the
Fodder Fen, I must seek justice elsewhere. The Fodder
Dike is so strong an argument, and the constant usage, that
it would be in truth a crying injustice to be blind, as they
seem to wish to be, to a right so substantially established.

" If you wish for further instructions on the subject of the
surcharges, be good enough to write to me, and state what
your opinion is, and what other people think. I could easily
fill another sheet of paper, for I am sure that Government
never meant a surcharge on property let honestly and fairly,
however low that rent might be; all they sought for was to
check collusion and other kinds of cheating.

( Your sure friend,

"Jos. BANKS."

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 387

SIR J. BANKS TO LORD GRENVILLE.

" MY LORD, " Soho Square, July 20th, 1796.

" When I had the honour near three weeks ago of
waiting upon your Lordship, by your appointment, on the
business of M. de Billardiere, I was in hopes I had con-
vinced your Lordship that the measure of returning to that
gentleman the collections of natural history he had made
during his employment as a naturalist on the voyage of dis-
covery sent from France for the purpose of inquiring into the
fate of the late M. de Peyrouse, was a measure likely to do
honour to the national character of the English, as a people
loving science and abounding with generosity, as well as
with justice, and liable to no reasonable objection whatever.

" I was in hopes also that your Lordship would consider
it as creditable to His Majesty's Ministers to grant in this
instance a truce to the unfortunate animosities at present
subsisting between England and France, by following the
precedents of their predecessors in the case of M. de Con-
damine, of the French nation under their late form of govern-
ment in that of Captain Cook, and under their present one
in the mistaken instance of M. Spillard.

" I hope I have not been mistaken, though your Lordship
will allow that I have reason to fear the contrary, because
you promised me a speedy answer, and I have not heard from
your Lordship since. Respecting the opinion of M. de
Billardiere having received any special commission or enjoyed
any salary from the late King of France, I have made every
inquiry in my power without learning anything to make me
believe that to have been the case : the late King did cer-
tainly draw up private instructions for M. de Peyrouse, and
this has probably been the origin of the mistake.

" Allow me then, my Lord, to request a speedy answer to
this interesting subject, and to deprecate a refusal. M. de
Billardiere is, as I am informed by printed documents, at this
time Director of the Botanic Garden at Paris, at the head of
his department of science, and in a country where, however
humanity may have been outraged by popular leaders, science
is held in immeasurable esteem, he will have it in his power

2 c 2

388 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

to appeal to Europe, if in his case the justice is refused which
was formerly granted by us to De Condamine, and by his
countrymen to Cook ; and I fear Europe, if such an appeal is
made, is more likely to take part with the complainant than
with a nation which for the first time refuses a reasonable
indulgence to science in alleviation of the necessary horrors

O J

attendant on a state of warfare.

"As I possibly may have occasion to correspond with
your Lordship on another subject similar in principle to that
now under consideration, I take the liberty to state as fol-
lows : —

"The French either have, or will soon solicit from His
Majesty's Ministers, a passport for a ship intended to be
sent to Trinidad for the purpose of bringing away a collection
of living plants deposited there for fear of capture. I hope,
my Lord, that this request will be readily granted. The
credit Europe has given to the English for having brought
useful plants from the South Seas to their colonies in the
west, has fully shown that all good men respect the exten-
sive benevolence of increasing the food of mankind, by
removing useful plants to countries where Nature has not
provided them ; and our amiable Monarch has set the example
of sending useful plants from his Botanic Gardens to the
East, to the West Indies, and to Africa.

" Besides, my Lord, the very application virtually offers,
during the horrors of a war unprecedented in the mutual
implacability of the parties engaged, an unconditional armis-
tice to science ; surely, my Lord, such an offer should not
be neglected ; the ready acceptance of it may be the signal of
the return of the dawnings of good will towards men, and
produce consequences, in the present position of Europe,
valuable beyond appreciation to all the nations who in-
habit it.

" I have the honour to be, my Lord, with due respect
and unfeigned esteem,

" Your Lordship's obedient,

humble servant,

" Jos. BANKS."

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 389

*

SIR J. BANKS TO M. CHARRETIE.

"SlR, "August 10th, 179G.

(e I have great pleasure in acquainting you that I am
now fully empowered to deliver to you the collection made
by M. de Billardiere, in order to their being put on board the
next Cartel ship, and conveyed by you to that gentleman.

" If you will do me the honour of calling in Soho Square,
at any time to-morrow before twelve o'clock, I shall have
great pleasure in consulting with you on the proper mode of
packing them safely for the voyage, and also on the time
which you choose to have them conveyed to the place from
whence they are to be put on board : matters which, I appre-
hend, cannot be so well settled any where as on the spot
where the collection now is."

M. CHARRETIE TO SIR J. BANKS.

" Walcot Place, le 10 Aout, 1796.

" M. Charretie fait bien ses complimens a Monsieur
le Chevalier Banks, et ne doutant pas que ce ne soit a ses
demarches que le Gouvernement Fran£ais soit redevable de
la remise de la collection de M. la Billardiere, il peut etre
persuade de la reconnoissance du Directoire Executif. M.
Charretie aura 1'honneur dialler demain avant midi temoigner
a Monsieur Banks toute sa gratitude particuliere pour ses
bons offices, et conferer des moyens les plus propres a faire
1'envoi de la collection dont il s'agit."

390 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

II.

THE very imperfect manner in which the attempts to write
Sir Joseph Banks's Life have been made we have already
had occasion to remark, as well as the errors which have
been introduced into the accounts hitherto given of that
eminent person. There is but too much reason to fear that
this work ill supplies the defect in our scientific history,
owing, among other things, to his having strictly ordered all
his letters and other manuscripts to be destroyed. But errors
have been corrected, and it is hoped that some important
particulars have been given.

Among the accounts hitherto offered to the world those of
the French writers are beyond all comparison the most
erroneous and indeed fanciful. The l Biographic Universelle '
may be cited as peculiarly abounding in such inventions. —
The statement that Sir Joseph allowed Dr. Solander a salary
or pension of 400/. a-year I believe to be wholly groundless :
the sum would have been preposterous, especially considering
that the Doctor enjoyed a considerable place in the British
Museum. — The institution of the Copley Medal is said to be
for " the experiments the most useful to the preservation of
lives," whereas it is for the "best paper on experimental
philosophy in the year." — The group called the " Society
Islands" is said to derive its name from the "caractere doux
et sociable des habitans," and Otaheite is said to be the chief.
Now Otaheite is 150 miles distant, and belongs to the
Friendly Islands ; and Cook tells us himself that he named
the others Society Islands, six in number, " on account of
their being contiguous to each other."

THE . YORK
PUBLIC LIDBARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND
TILDE N FOUNDATIONS.

J. Brawn.

.

ASTOR

( 391 )

/

D'ALEMBERT.

THE pleasures of a purely scientific life have often
been described; and they have been celebrated with very
heartfelt envy by those whose vocations precluded or
interrupted such enjoyments, as well as commended by
those whose more fortunate lot gave them the experience
of what they praised; but it may be doubted, if such
representations can ever apply to any pursuits so justly
as to the study of the mathematics. In other branches
of science the student is dependent upon many circum-
stances over which he has little control. He must often
rely on the reports of others for his facts; he must fre-
quently commit to their agency much of his inquiries;
his research may lead him to depend upon climate, or
weather, or the qualities of matter, which he must take
as he finds it; where all other things are auspicious, he
may be without the means of making experiments, of
placing nature in circumstances by which he would ex-
tort her secrets ; add to all this the necessarily imper-
fect nature of inductive evidence, which always leaves it
doubtful if one generalization of facts shall not be after-
wards superseded by another, as exceptions arise to the
rule first discovered. But the geometrician"" relies en-

* It may be as well to adopt the expression always used on the
Continent, to denote the cultivation of mathematical science : — "Ce

392 D'ALEMBERT.

tirely on himself; he is absolute master of his materials;
his whole investigations are conducted at his own good
pleasure, and under his own absolute and undivided con-
trol. He seeks the aid of no assistant, requires the use of
no apparatus, hardly wants any books ; and with the fullest
reliance on the perfect instruments of his operations, and
on the altogether certain nature of his results, he is quite
assured that the truths which he has found out, though
they may lay the foundation of further discovery, can
never by possibility be disproved, nor his reasonings upon
them shaken, by all the progress that the science can
make to the very end of time.

The life of the geometrician, then, may well be
supposed an uninterrupted calm; and the gratification
which he derives from his researches is of a pure
and also of a lively kind, whether he contemplates
the truths discovered by others, with the demonstra-
tive evidence on which they rest, or carries the science
further, and himself adds to the number of the inter-
esting truths before known. He may be often stopped
in his researches by the difficulties that beset his
path; he may be frustrated in his attempts to discover
relations depending on complicated data which he cannot
unravel or reconcile; but his study is wholly indepen-
dent of accident; his reliance is on his own powers;
doubt and contestation and uncertainty he never can
know ; a stranger to all controversy, above all mystery,
he possesses his mind in unruffled peace; bound by no
authority, regardless of all consequences as of all opposi-

grand gcometre," is a phrase now universally understood and ap-
plied to mathematicians of every description.

D'ALEMBERT. 393

•

tion, he is entire master of his conclusions as of his
operations; and feels even perfectly indifferent to the
acceptance or rejection of his doctrines, because he con-
fidently looks forward to their universal and immediate
admission the moment they are comprehended.

It is to be further borne in mind, that from the labours
of the geometrician are derived the most important assis-
tance to the researches of other philosophers, and to the
perfection of the most useful arts. This consideration
resolves itself into two : one is the pleasure of contem-
plation, and consequently is an addition to the gratification
of exactly the same kind, derived immediately from the
contemplation of pure mathematical truth; much, in-
deed, of the mixed mathematics is also purely mathe-
matical investigation, built upon premises derived from
induction. The other gratification is of a wholly dif-
ferent description; it is connected merely with the pro-
motion of arts subservient to the ordinary enjoyments of
life. This is only a secondary and mixed use of sci-
ence to the philosopher; the main pleasure bestowed by
it, is the gratification which, by a law of our nature,
we derive, from contemplating scientific truth when in-
dulging in the general views which it gives, marking the
unexpected relations of things seemingly unconnected,
tracing the resemblance, perhaps identity, of things the
most unlike, noting the diversity of those apparently
similar. This is the true and primary object of scientific
investigation. This it is which gives the pleasure of
science to the mind. The secular benefits, so to speak,
the practical uses derived from it, are wholly independent
of this, and are only an incidental, adventitious, secon-
dary advantage. I have fully explained this doctrine in

394 D'ALEMBERT,

•

the Preliminary Discourse to the works of the Society for
the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, and in the Introduc-
tion to the ' Political Philosophy.' It never had been
stated, as far as I know, before; but it rests on such
irrefragable principles, that it has not since been called
in question.*

It is an illustration of the happiness derived from
mathematical studies, that they possess two qualities in
the highest degree, not perhaps unconnected with one
another. They occupy the attention, entirely abstracting
it from all other considerations ; and they produce a calm
agreeable temper of mind.

Their abstracting and absorbing power is very remark-
able, and is known to all geometricians. Every one has
found how much more swiftly time passes when spent in
such investigations, than in any other occupation either
of the senses or even of the mind. Sir Isaac Newton is
related to have very frequently forgotten the season of
meals, and left his food awaiting for hours his arrival
from his study. A story is told of his being entirely
shut up and disappearing, as it were eclipsed, and then
shining forth grasping the great torch which he carried
through the study of the heavens ; he had invented the
Fluxional Calculus. I know not if there be any founda-
tion for the anecdote; but that he continually remained
engaged with his researches through the night is certain,

It gave me great pleasure to find it highly approved by my
revered friend, Professor Stewart, who regarded it as indeed of more
value and originality than I had considered myself. The outline
of it had been read many years before (1798) in a literary society
at Edinburgh, to which Lord Jeffrey, Dr. Brown, Mr. Homer, and
others belonged. See Appendix to this Life.

D'ALEMBERT. 395

and that he then took no keep of time is undeniable.
It does not require the same depth of understanding
to experience the effects of such pursuits in producing
complete abstraction; every geometrician is aware of
them in his own case. The sun goes down unperceived,
and the night wanes afterwards till he again rises upon
our labours.

They who have experienced an incurable wound in
some prodigious mental affliction, have confessed, that
nothing but mathematical researches could withdraw
their attention from their situation. Instances we know
of a habit of drinking being cured by the like means ; an
inveterate taste for play has within my own observation
been found to give way before the revival of an early love
of analytical studies. This is possibly a cause of the
other tendency, which has been mentioned, the calming
of the mind. We have seen in the life of Simson, how
he would fly from the conflicts of metaphysical and
theological science, to that of necessary truth, and how
in those calm retreats he ever " found himself refreshed
with rest."""" Greater tranquillity is possessed by none
than by geometricians. Even under severe privations
this is observed. The greatest of them all, certainly the
greatest after Newton, was an example. Euler lost his
sight after a long expectation of this calamity, which he
bore with perfectly equal mind; both in the dreadful
prospect and the actual bereavement, his temper con-
tinued as cheerful as before, and his mind, fertile in
resources of every kind, supplied the want of sight by
ingenious mechanical devices, and by a memory more

* Vol. i., p. 477.

396 D'ALEMBERT.

powerful even than before.* He furnishes an instance to
another purpose. Thoughtless and superficial observers
have charged this science with a tendency to render the
feelings obtuse. Any pursuit of a very engrossing or
absorbing kind may produce this temporary effect; and
it has been supposed that men occasionally abstracted
from other contemplations, are particularly dull of tem-
per. But no one ever had more warm or kindly feelings
than Euler, whose chief delight was in the cheerful
society of his grand-children, to his last hour, and whose
chief relaxation from his severer studies was found in
teaching these little ones.

It has been alleged, and certainly has been somewhat
found by experience to be true, that the habit of contem-
plating necessary truth and the familiarity with the

* My late learned and esteemed friend, Mr. Gough, of
Keudal, was another example of studies being pursued under the
same severe deprivation — but he had never known the advantages
of sight, having lost his eyes when an infant, and never had any
distinct recollection of light. He was an accomplished mathe-
matician of the old school, and what is more singular, a most skilful
botanist. His prodigious memory resembled Euler's, and the exqui-
site acuteness of his smell and touch supplied in a great measure the
want of sight. He would describe surfaces as covered with undula-
tions which to others appeared smooth and even polished. His
ready sagacity in naming any plant submitted to his examination was
truly wonderful. I had not only the pleasure of his acquaintance, but
I have many particulars respecting his rare endowments, from
another eminent mathematician, who unites the learning of the
older with that of the modern school, my learned friend and neigh-
bour, Mr. Slee, of Tirrel. A detailed account of Mr. Gough's case,
by Mr. Slee and Professor Whewell (a pupil of his), would be most
curious and instructive. Euler's memory was such, that he could
repeat the ^neid, noting the words that begin and end each page.
Mr. Gough also was an excellent classical scholar.

D'ALEMBERT. 397

demonstrative evidence on which it rests, has a tendency
to unfit the mind for accurately weighing the inferior
kind of proof which alone the other sciences can obtain.
Once finding that the certainty to which the geometrician
is accustomed cannot be attained, he is apt either to
reject all testimony, or to become credulous by confound-
ing different degrees of evidence, regarding them all as
nearly equal from their immeasurable inferiority to his
own species of proof — much as great sovereigns con-
found together various ranks of common persons, on
whom they look down as all belonging to a different
species from their own. In this observation there is,
no doubt, much of truth, but we must be careful not to
extend its scope too far, so as that it should admit of no
exceptions. The following life affords one of the most
remarkable of these ; as far as physical science went,
Laplace afforded another; in several other branches he
was, perhaps, no exception to the rule.*

The hold which their favourite studies have, and keep
over geometricians is not the least remarkable proof of
the gratification which they are calculated to afford. — I
well know, to take one instance within my own observa-
tion, that my learned and esteemed friend, the present
Lord Chancellor, a most successful student of the mathe-
matics in his earlier years, reverted to the pursuits in

* It is said that when the Emperor asked him why he had left
out the consideration of a Supreme Intelligence in his speculations,
he answered that he conceived he could explain the phenomenon
without that hypothesis. But when we look to his demonstration
of the high improbability of the system having been formed without
an intelligent cause, (above four millions of millions to one he
proves it in his Calcul de Probability) we cannot lend much faith to
this Paris anecdote.

398 D'ALEMBERT.

which he had so often found delight, long after he had
held the highest offices and been engaged in the most dis-
similar discussions. As late as 1838, when I was en-
gaged in preparing my Analytical Review of the Prin-
cipia, I found that, by an accidental coincidence, he was
amusing his leisure with the calculus long intermitted;
and I am sure that he could have furnished as correct
and more elegant analytical demonstrations of the New-
tonian theorems than I had the fortune to obtain in com-
posing that work.

I have thought it a useful thing to consider the per-
sonal history with the scientific achievements of a very
great geometrician, with a view to the illustration of
these remarks — and I have chosen D'Alembert in pre-
ference to Euler or to Clairaut, the two other illustrious
analysts of their age, because we have more ample
materials for the study. Whatever of peace and comfort
he enjoyed, D'Alembert owed to geometry, and confessed
his obligations. Whatever he suffered from vexation of
any sort, he could fairly charge upon the temporary in-
terruption of his mathematical pursuits. In both por-
tions of his history, therefore, it is likely to prove instruc-
tive, and to enforce the doctrine which I have laid clown.

Jean le Rond d'Alernbert was born on the 17th of
Nov., 1717, being a foundling exposed near the church
of St. Jean le Rond in Paris, and thus called by the
name of the parish, as is usual in most countries. The
commissary of the district, before whom the infant was
carried, perceiving its feeble and almost dying condition,
instead of sending it to the hospital gave the charge to
the wife of a poor but honest glazier in the neighbour-
hood, living in the Rue Michel-le-Oomte, for he was ac-

D'ALEMBERT. 399

quainted with the good woman's respectability. In a
few days the father, M. Destouches, commissary of artil-
lery, came forward to own the child, and made provision
for its support. The general belief is, that the exposi-
tion had been concerted with the police. But if so, a
very needless risk was unaccountably incurred by ex-
posing so tender an infant in a winter's night, when the
parties might have sent it at once to the place where it
was destined to be brought up. It is more likely that
the mother, afraid of the discovery, if not of the burthen
to be thrown upon her, caused the exposure before, the
father was apprized of the birth having happened, and
that as soon as he knew of what had been done, he
hastened to send after the person who had been entrusted
with the charge. The mother was an unmarried lady,
sister to Cardinal Tencin, Archbishop of Lyons, and she
was afterwards well known in the circles of Paris as a
person of rare talents and accomplishments. Marmontel,
in his Memoirs, calls her Madame de Tencin, she having
probably in her old age passed by that name; and he
relates some of her sayings, of which one is singular in
relation to the life of her celebrated son. " Woe to him,"
she said, "who depends for his subsistence on his pen!
The shoemaker is secure of his wages ; the bookmaker is
not secure of anything." She was wont also to give the
result of her experience of men, by recommending per-
sons who lacked friends to prefer choosing them among
women, as they are far more zealous to serve those they
wish well to ; but then, she added, " You must be their
friend, and not their lover/' She was the author of a
novel, ' Les Memoires du Comte de Cominges/ of which
a good judge, Baron Grimm, says, "II est en possession

400 D'ALEMBERT.

de faire pleurer." After giving an account of the plot,
he adds, "II a toujours conserve beaucoup de reputa-
tion ;" and he adds, " II est de feu Mine. Tencin, soeur du
Cardinal de ce noni ; cette feinine celebre de plus d'ime
inaniere.""* This celebrated person was the centre of
a distinguished circle of society remarkable for wit,
talents, and accomplishments, and after her death Mine.
Geoffrin succeeded to her post.

The young D'Alembert, who probably took his name
from his nurse, was sent at the age of twelve to the
college of the Quatre Nations, where the professors, at
that time of warm controversy, belonged to the Jansenist
party; and observing the early appearance of genius in
their young pupil, they took pains to imbue him with a
taste for polemical subjects. In the first year of his
studies in philosophy he had written an able and learned
commentary of St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, and as
he showed a general capacity for science, the worthy
enemies of the Jesuits, delighted to find that all profound
learning was not engrossed by that body, cherished a
hope that a new Pascal had been given to them for
renewing their victories over their learned and subtle
adversaries. It was with this view that they made him
betimes study the mathematics, in which Pascal had so
greatly and so early excelled ; but they had to deal with
a less docile subject than the Port-Royal had formerly
found in young Blaise, for they soon perceived that it
was in vain to make him quit his figures and his calcula-
tions and take to the divinity of the schools; and all
their descriptions of the tendency which such studies had

* Corr., iv. 27C.

D'ALEMBEET. 401

to "dry up the heart""" failed to make him abandon
what had taken so strong a hold of his whole niind.

When he left the college he showed the first remark-
able instance of that kind and even tender disposition
which distinguished him through life, and is another
example to rescue the geometrician's pursuits from the
reproach of hardening the heart. He found himself soli-
tary in the world, without any kindred that acknowledged
him, and he reverted to her whose care had reared and
comforted his earlier years ; he took refuge in the humble
dwelling of his nurse, feeling, as he afterwards used to say,
that the small income which alone he possessed, a pension
of less than fifty pounds settled upon him by his father,
would tend to increase somewhat the comforts of the poor
people with whom he should board. In that lowly dwell-
ing, a single confined room of which he occupied as his
bed-room and his study, he established himself, living
with the family and faring as they fared. Here he
remained happy and contented for forty years, that is,
until his health compelled him to change his abode, when
the age of the good woman would not permit her to accom-
pany him. When her husband died she was ill-treated
by her grandchildren, who were stripping her of her little
property and reducing her to great distress. "Laissez,"
said D'Alembert, "Laissez tout emporter par ces in-
dignes. — Je ne vous abandonnerai point." Nor did he ;
he provided for all her wants, and as long as she lived
he visited her twice a week, to satisfy himself by his

* These good fathers did not quite use the language they had em-
ployed to turn away Fenelon from "se laisser ensorceler par les at-
traits diaboliques de la geometrie." Certainly it is a proof of the evil
one's ubiquity that we should find him lurking in this of all places.

2 D

402 D'ALEMBERT.

own observation that nothing was wanting of care and
attention to secure her comforts. When he became
famous his mother's vanity led her to desire his intimacy,
a step which natural affection had not suggested. Dis-
covering to him the secret of his birth, she would have
had him come and live with her. But he plainly said
he regarded the nurse as his mother, and only saw a
step-mother in Mine. Tencin.*

In this obscure retreat he devoted himself to his daily
pursuits. Such books of mathematics as he could pur-
chase he bought; others he was obliged to consult at
the public libraries. From the very small scale of his
library, and from the degree to which in his education
and his subsequent studies he was left to himself, it
happened that he was constantly making what seemed
to him discoveries, and as constantly finding in some
book, which he had not before been able to consult, that
he had been anticipated. He drew from hence a very
inaccurate inference ; he supposed that nature had
refused him the gift of original genius, and that he must
rest satisfied with studying what others had discovered.
But this gave him no pain ; the gratification of investi-
gating mathematical truth was all he desired, and with
tasting that in his studies he was abundantly contented,
regarding the glory of first making the step a very sub-
ordinate consideration, and esteeming the pleasure of the

* "Que me dites-vous la, madame?" he exclaimed; "Ah! vous
n'etes qu'une maratre ! C'est la vitriere qui est ma mere." This
touching anecdote is differently related by some, as Grimm in his
'Correspondence.' They report the interview as having taken place
in presence of the old nurse ; that D'Alembert exclaimed, "Ma mere !
Ah! la voila ! — Je ne connais point d'autre." And therewithal fell
upon her neck and bathed it in his tears.

D'ALEMBERT. 403

contemplation a sufficient reward of his labour. This
most interesting circumstance was related by himself to
M. Condorcet, a profound and accomplished geometrician,
who enjoyed his entire confidence, and succeeded him in
the Academy.

While, however, his time thus passed in tranquil
enjoyment, the very moderate income which he possessed
rendered it advisable that he should seek for some means
of increasing it and rendering himself independent, as
well as helping more actively those he cared for. He
was advised to study the law, and in the law he took his
degrees. But nothing could less suit his taste than this
study, and he changed it for that of medicine.

Finding that his passion for the mathematics inter-
fered with this pursuit, he adopted the singular expe-
dient of sending his books to a friend's house, that he
might keep temptation out of his way. The resolution
was, that he should not be allowed to have them again
until he had taken his Doctor's degree. For some time
this arrangement succeeded ; but, his mind hankering after
the forbidden scene, he would be ever haunted with
the vision of some quantity, some function whose exact
exponents had escaped him, some formula of which he
could not recal the solution ; he would then get back a
volume, and thus one by one the whole of his little stock
of precious learning returned into his possession, while
the title of Doctor, the quantity, the arbitrary function
M.D., remained without any approximation. He then
fairly gave up the struggle, and devoted his life to geo-
metrical pursuits.

The account which he always gave of his follow-
ing years was one glowing with the recollection of the

2 D 2

404 D'ALEMBEKT.

purest happiness; and he was fond of dwelling upon
all its details. Perfectly tranquil, without a thought
of wealth or power or distinction, his whole enjoy-
ments of an intellectual cast, his existence was as
entirely that of a philosopher as ever fell to the lot of
any one in ancient or in modern days. — " I awoke," he
would say, " every morning to look back, with a feeling
of gladness in my heart, on the investigation which I had
begun over-night, and exulting in the prospect of con-
tinuing it to the result as soon as I rose. When I stopt
my operations for a few moments to rest myself, I used
to look forward to the evening when I should go to the
theatre and enjoy another kind of treat, but also aware
that between the acts I should be thinking on the greater
treat my next morning's work was to afford me." — It was
at this period of his life, at once glorious and happy,
though still passed in obscurity, that the good old woman
whom he loved as a mother, and who doated on him as a
son, would say when any one told her of the great renown
he was preparing for his name, " Oh, you will never be
any thing better than a philosopher. And what's a phi-
losopher'? A foolish body who wearies his life out to be
spoken of after he's dead."

His studies, however, as might well be expected, soon
proved eminently successful. In 1739 he presented to
the Academy of Sciences a paper containing some import-
ant corrections of errors into which Pere Reynau had
fallen in his treatise " Analyse Demontree ;" these errors
D'Alembert had discovered when studying the book in
order to learn the calculus, and they related to the
integrals of binomials. This memoir gave a most favour-
able impression of his capacity to the eminent men who

D'ALEMBERT. 405

at that time formed the mathematical portion of this
illustrious body, Mairau, Cassini, Camus, Fouchy, above
all Clairaut, then in the meridian of his great and just
renown. The young analyst became their acquaintance
first, then their friend. In 1741 he was admitted into
the Society, at the early age of twenty-four. Except-
ing Clairaut, who for the maturity of his extraordinary
faculties at an early age is an exception to all rules, no
one had ever been an Academician so young. Clairaut
had by Royal Ordinance, dispensing with the rule that
required the age of twenty complete, been admitted an
Adjoint at eighteen, and an Associate at twenty; but at
twelve he had presented a memoir upon an important
analytical subject, and at the same early age he had made
some progress in his greatest work, the ' Courbes &
double Courbure/ which was nearly completed at thir-
teen, and at sixteen was actually published. *

In 1743, two years after D'Aleinbert entered the
Academy, appeared his e Traite de Dynamique/ which at
once placed him in the highest rank of geometricians.
The theory is deduced with perfect precision, and with as
great clearness and simplicity as the subject allows, from
a principle which he first laid down and explained, though,
it be deducible from the equality of action and re-action, a
physical rather than a mathematical truth, and derived
from universal induction, not from abstract reasoning &
priori.

The Principle is this. (' Dyn.' pt. 2. ch. i.) If there

* It would certainly have been published in 1725, before he was
fourteen years old, but for a violent head-ache which his labours
brought on, and which obliged him to give up writing. When his
first paper was read at the Academy, the good Father Reynau burst
into tears of joy at so marvellous a performance.

406 D'ALEMBERT.

are several bodies acting on each other, as by being con-
nected through inflexible rods, or by mutual attraction.,
or in any other way that may be conceived; suppose an
external force is impressed upon these bodies, they will
move not in the direction of that force as they would were
they all unconnected and free, but in another direction ;
then the force acting on the bodies may be decomposed
into two, one acting in the direction which they actually
take, or moving the bodies without at all interfering with
their mutual action, the other in such direction as that
the forces destroy each other, and are wholly extin-
guished; being such, that if none other had been im-
pressed upon the system, it would have remained at
rest.'55' This principle reduces all the problems of dy-
namics to statical problems, and is of great fertility, as
well as of admirable service in both assisting our investi-
gations and simplifying them. It is, indeed, deduciblc
from the simplest principles, and especially from the
equality of action and re-action; but though any one
might naturally enough have thus hit upon it, how vast a
distance lies between the mere principle and its applica-
tion to such problems, for example, as to find the locus or

* Lagrange's statement of the principle is the most concise, but
I question if it is the clearest, of all that have been given. " If there
be impressed upon several bodies, motions which they are compelled
to change by their mutual actions, we may regard these motions as
composed of the motions which the bodies will actually have, and of
other motions which are destroyed ; from whence it follows, that the
bodies, if animated by those motions only, must be in equilibrio."
(<Mec. An.' vol. i. p. 239, Ed. 1811.) It is not easy to give a
general statement of the principle, and I am by no means wedded
to the one given in the text. A learned friend has communicated
one which the reader will find in Appendix II., together with a
statement, by another excellent geometrician, of the real benefit
derived from the Principle.

D'ALEMBERT. 407

velocity of a body sliding or moving freely along a
revolving rod, at the extremity of which rod the body
moves round in a given plane — a locus which the cal-
culus founded on the Principle shews to be in certain
cases the logarithmic spiral."""

No one can doubt that the Principle of D'Alembert
was involved in many of the solutions of dynamical
problems before given. But then each solution rested
on its own grounds, and these varied with the different
cases ; their demonstrations were not traced to and con-
nected with one fundamental principle. He alone and
first established this connexion, and extended the Prin-
ciple over the whole field of dynamical inquiry.

The ' Traite' contains, further, (part 1. ch. ii.), a new
demonstration of the parallelogram of forces. The reason

?/ ft ir^ 2 T) ?/ cJ 'tfi
* The general equation is d^y—- — - — + . .2 — y: — ^ in

which y is the distance of the moving body D from the fixed point,
or the length of the rod, at the end of which is the body A, describ-
ing an arch of a circle, and x that arch. The velocity of D is like-
wise found in terms of the same quantity.

I have freely admitted that the principle of D'Alembert flows
from the equality of action and re-action ; but nothing can be more
incorrect than the remark made by a learned critic, ('Quarterly Re-
view,' vol. v. p. 345,) that " this boasted principle is little more than
Newton's third law of motion modified so as to suit the algebraical
method of investigating propositions;" on which is grounded a
complaint that the French, while praising D'Alembert, never men-
tion Newton, the real author of the principle. The third law of
motion was assuredly no discovery of Sir I. Newton ; and as cer-
tainly the praise of the step made was due to D'Alembert, unless
indeed Bernouilli, and still more Fontaine, in some sort anticipated
him, probably without his being aware of it. The critic to whom
I allude is well founded in urging the like complaints against the
French chemists for omitting all mention of Black.

408 D'ALEMBERT.

of the author's preference of this over the common demon-
stration, is not at all satisfactory. His proof consists
in supposing the body to move on a plane sliding in two
grooves parallel to one side of the parallelogram, and at
the same time carried along in the direction of the other
side. This is not one whit more strict and rigorous than
the ordinary supposition of the body moving along a
ruler parallel to one side, while the ruler at the same
time moves along a line parallel to the other side. Indeed
I should rather prefer this demonstration to D'Alembert's.
The ' Traite de Dynamique ' appeared in 1 743, and in
the following year its fundamental principle was applied
by the author to the important and difficult subject of
the equilibrium, and motion of fluids, the portion of the
' Principia ' which its illustrious author had left in its least
perfect state. Pressed by the difficulty, of the inquiry
which is one of the most important in Hydrodynamics, the
motion of a fluid through an orifice in a given vessel, and
despairing of the data affording the means of a strict
and direct solution, Newton had recourse to assump-
tions marked by the most refined ingenuity, but
admitted to be gratuitous and to be unauthorized by the
facts. The celebrated Cataract is of this description.
He supposes ('Principia/ lib. ii. prop. 36,) that a body of
ice shaped like the vessel, comes in contact with the
upper surface of the liquid and melts immediately on
touching it, so as to keep the level of the fluid always the
same, and that a cataract is thus formed, of which the
upper surface is that of the fluid, and the lower that of
the orifice. His first investigation assumed the issuing
column to be cylindrical, but he afterwards found that
the lateral pressure and motion gave it the form of a

D'ALEMBERT. 409

truncated cone which he called a vein ; and his correc-
tion of the former result was a matter of much con-
troversy among mathematicians. Daniel Bernouilli at
first maintained it to be erroneous against Riccati and
others, but he afterwards acquiesced in Newton's view.
He however always resisted the hypothesis of the cataract,
as indeed did most other inquirers. Newton's assumptions,
in other parts of this very difficult inquiry, have been
deemed liable to the same objections; as where he leaves
the purely speculative hypothesis of perfectly uncom-
pressed and distinct particles, and treats of the interior
and minute portions of fluids, as similar to those which
we know. (Lib. ii. prop. 37, 38, 39.) It must, how-
ever, be admitted as D'Alenibert has observed, ('Encyc.'
v. 889, and 'Resistance des Fluides/ xvii.) that "those
who attacked the Newtonian theory on this subject had
no greater success than its illustrious author ; some hav-
ing, after resorting to hypotheses which the experiments
refuted, abandoned their doctrines as equally unsatisfac-
tory, and others confessing their systems groundless, and
substituting calculations for principles."

Such was the state of the science when D'Alembert
happily applied his Dynamical principle to the pressure
and motion of fluids, and found that it served excellently
for a guide, both in regard to non-elastic and elastic
fluids. In fact the particles of these being related to one
another by a cohesion which prevents them not from
obeying an external impulse, it is manifest that the prin-
ciple may be applied. Thus, if a fluid contained in a
vessel of any shape be conceived divided into layers per-
pendicular to the direction of its motion, and if v repre-
sent generally the velocity of the layers of fluid at any

410 D'ALEMBEHT.

instant, and d v the small increment of that velocity,
which may be either positive or negative, and will be
different for the different layers, v ± vo will express the
velocity of each layer as it takes the place of that
immediately below it ; then if a velocity + dv alone were
communicated to each layer, the fluid would remain at
rest. ('Traite de Fluides,' Liv. ii. ch. 1. Theor. 2.)
Thus the velocity of each part of the layer being taken
in the vertical direction is the same, and this velocity
being that of the whole layer itself, must be inversely as
its horizontal section, in order that its motion may not
interfere with that of the other layers, and may not
disturb the equilibrium. This, then, is precisely the
general dynamical principle already explained applied to
the motion of fluids, and it is impossible to deny that
the author is thus enabled to demonstrate directly many
propositions which had never before been satisfactorily
investigated. It is equally undeniable that much re-
mained after all his efforts incapable of a complete solu-
tion, partly owing to the inherent difficulties of the sub-
ject from our ignorance of the internal structure and
motions of fluids, and partly owing to the imperfect state
in which all our progress in analytical science still has
left us, the differential equations to which our inquiries
lead having, in very many cases, been found to resist all
the resources of the integral calculus.

^D

This remark applies with still greater force to his next
work. In 1752, he published his Essay on a new
theory of the Resistance of Fluids. The great merit of this
admirable work is that it makes no assumption, save one
to which none can object, because it is involved in every
view which can well be taken of the nature of a fluid;

D'ALEMBERT. 411

namely, that it is a body composed of very minute par-
ticles, separate from each other, and capable of free
motion in all directions. He applies the general dyna-
mical principle to the consideration of resistance in all its
views and relations, and he applies the calculus to the
solution of the various problems with infinite skill. It is
in this work that he makes the most use of that refine-
ment in the integral calculus of which we shall presently
have occasion to speak more at large, as having first been
applied by D'Alembert to physical investigation, if it was
not his own invention. But the interval between 1744
and 1752 was not passed without other important con-
tributions to physical and analytical science. In 1746,
he gave his Memoir on the general theory of Winds, which
was crowned by the Royal Academy of Berlin. The
foundation of this able and interesting inquiry is the
influence of the sun and moon upon the atmosphere, the
aerial tides, as it were, which the gravitation towards
these bodies produces ; for he dismisses all other causes of
aerial currents as too little depending upon any definite
operation, or too much depending upon various circum-
stances that furnish no precise data, to be capable of
analytical investigation. The Memoir consists of three
parts. In the first he calculates the oscillations caused
by the two heavenly bodies supposing them at rest, or the
earth at rest in respect of them. In the second, he
investigates their operation on the supposition of their
motion. In the third, he endeavours to trace the effects
produced upon the oscillations by terrestrial objects. The
paper is closed with remarks upon the effects of tempera-
ture. The whole inquiry is conducted with reference to
the general dynamical principle which he had so hap-

412 D'ALEMBERT.

pily applied to the equilibrium and pressure of fluids, iu
his first work upon that difficult subject.

The subject of fluids was, perhaps, the one which
most occupied D'Alcmbert's attention, and for the
greatest number of years. His 'Opuscula' contain several
interesting tracts upon its various departments, espe-
cially the first and fifth volumes, which were published in
1761 and 1768 respectively. But above half the eighth
volume relates to the same subject, and it appeared as
late as 1780, so that this inquiry had retained its hold
on his mind for a period of nearly forty years.*

We may further observe, that the extreme interest
which he took in it seems to have made him some-
what susceptible, when he conceived others had not
done justice to his labours in this favourite department
of science. Not only is he anxious, perhaps beyond
what is altogether beseeming the calm and disinterested

* The readers of D'Alembert's papers on these subjects will have
real obligations to Bossut, if they read with D'Alemb'ert that
great didactic writer's admirable treatise, ' Hydrodynamique,'
second edition. He was an intimate friend and, indeed, may be
said to have been a pupil, of D'Alenibert and of Condorcet. His
' Calcul Integral et Differentiel,' is also a truly excellent and useful
work. Of the four great elementary treatises on this subject,
Lacroix's, Bougainville's, Cousin's, and Bossut's, the last appears
to me the best; but I am aware of the high opinion which
D'Alembert entertained of Bougainville's. He was accustomed to
refer to Bossut those who applied to him for explanations of his
writings, as Newton did to Denioivre. — Why, may it be permitted
us respectfully to ask, why will so many mathematicians fancy it
beneath them to write clearly, simply, and, as didactic matter should
be written, intelligibly — and always proceeding from what is
known and explained to what is not, without anticipation? Surely
Bossut was as great a geometrician as themselves, and he con-
descended to write as if he were teaching and not commenting,
alluding, or referring.

D'ALEMBERT. 413

love of investigation, to secure the admission of his
claims as the original discoverer; but we sometimes find
him even querulous as to the remarks of others, and
complaining of them for not rendering him justice. In
the 'Opuscula,' torn, i., p. 158, we have not only an
anxious statement of his having been the first to use the
method employed in the 'Essai sur la Resistance des
Fluides/ and adding, that "great geometricians had so
much valued it as to apply it in their inquiries;" but
he objects to their having maintained that his theory
was capable of greater extension than he had given it,
and observes that he had turned it to other inquiries
which had escaped them. In the able and learned
article Hydrodynamique, in the 'Diet. Encyc.,' vol. viii.,
p. 373, he attacks Euler for supposing, in his 'Memoire
Acad. de Berlin,' 1 755, that D'Alembert's method in his
Essai was not general ; and he adds, "II me semble que
M. Euler auroit du rendre plus de justice & mon travail
sur ce sujet et convenir de 1'utilite qu'il en avoit tiree."
Assuredly if ever man was above all suspicion of either
usurping upon others or overrating his own discoveries,
it was this most illustrious geometrician, whose inherent
richness of invention made him even blarneably careless
of his own claims to originality. No one can have
contemplated the different periods of D'Alembert's life
without being assured that such feelings of jealousy and
irritation as appear in the passages just now cited, were
not congenial to his nature and to his earlier habits,
when his darling science maintained undisputed posses-
sion of his mind, excluded all anxiety save in the search
after truth, and calmed every temporary ruffling of his
composure. The dates these passages bear, of 1761 and
1765, long after his admission into the circle of Madame

414 D'ALEMBERT.

du Deffand, and his participation in the labours and
factions of the Encyclopaedists, the Diderots, the Holbachs,
the Voltaires, shew sufficiently that he had exchanged
the peace of geometry for the troubled existence of
coterie and party.

We ought, while on this subject, to add the just and
judicious remark of Bossut on the circumstance of James
Bernouilli having anticipated in some sort D'Alembcrt's
method of treating dynamical problems : " That the
latter seemed to prove, by the numerous and important
applications which he had made of his Principle, that in
all probability he owed the discovery of it solely to
himself." ('Hydrodyn/ L, xv.)

In treating of Hydrodynamics D'Alembcrt had found
the ordinary calculus insufficient, and was under the
necessity of making an important addition to its pro-
cesses and its powers, already so much extended by the
great improvements which Eulcr had introduced. This
was rendered still more necessary when, in 1746, he came
to treat of the winds, and in the following year when he
handled the very difficult subject of the vibration of cords,
hitherto most imperfectly investigated by mathema-
ticians.* In all these inquiries the differential equations
which resulted from a geometrical examination of the
conditions of any problem, proved to be of so difficult

* Taylor ('Methodus Incrementum') had solved the problem of the
vibrating cord's movement, but upon three assumptions — that it de-
parts very little from the axis or from a straight line, that all its points
come to the axis at the same moment, and that it is of a uniform
thickness in its whole length. D'Alembert's solution only requires
the last and the first supposition, rejecting the second. The first,
indeed, is near the truth, and it is absolutely necessary to render
the problem soluble at all. The third has been rejected by both
Euler and Daniel Bernouilli, in several cases investigated by them.

D'ALEMBERT. 415

integration that they appeared to set at defiance the
utmost resources of the calculus. When a close and
rigorous inspection shewed no daylight, when expe-
riments of substitution and transformation failed, the
only resource which seemed to remain was finding
factors which might, by multiplying each side of the
equation, complete the differential, and so make it inte-
grable either entirely, or by circular arches, or by loga-
rithms, or by series. D'Alembert, in all probability, drew
his new method of treating the subject from the considera-
tion that, in the process of differentiation we successively
assume one quantity only to be variable and the rest con-
stant, and we differentiate with reference to that one vari-
able ; so that x d y + y d x is the differential of x y, a
rectangle, and xydz + xzdy + yzdx the differential of
x y 2, a parallelepiped, and so of second differences, d* z
being (when z = xm) = (m2 — m)xm~" dx'2 + m x m - ' d* x.
He probably conceived from hence that by reversing the
operation and partially integrating, that is, integrating
as if one only of the variables were such, and the others
were constant, he might succeed in going a certain
length, and then discover the residue by supposing an un-
known function of the variable which had been assumed
constant, to be added, and afterwards ascertaining that
function by attending to the other conditions of the
question. This method is called that of partial dif-
ferences. Lacroix justly observes that it would be
more correct to say partial differentials; and a neces-
sary part of it consisted of the equations of con-

D'Alembert's solution led to an equation of partial differences of

this form ( c ¥\ = a 2 ( — ^ ) in which t is the time of the vibra-

\ d t* ) \<* x /

tion, x and y the co-ordinates of the curve formed by the vibration.

416 D'ALEMBERT.

ditiotis, which other geometricians unfolded more fully
than the inventor of the calculus himself ; that is
to say, statements of the relation which must subsist
between the variables or rather the differentials of
these variables, in order that there may be a possi-
bility of finding the integral by the method of partial
differences. It appears that Fontaine,"" a geometrician

Euler had so high an opinion of Fontaine, that in 1751 he told
Lalande, "If any unexpected discovery shall be made, I believe it
will be Fontaine that will make it." (Montucla, iv., 77, note by
Lalande.) His name is not even mentioned in the scientific Ency-
clopaedias ; nor does Professor Leslie, in his Dissertation to the
' Encyc. Brit.,' shew that he had ever heard of it. The delay of
the Academy in publishing his papers is apparently suspected by
Montucla as having resulted from some unfair feeling towards him.
He was a person of the most philosophic habits, living always in
the country, where he cultivated a small estate ; and having had the
misfortune to be involved in an oppressive litigation he appears to
have abandoned scientific pursuits during the latter years of his
life. (Mem., 1771.) We find him mentioned in some of the con-
temporary Memoirs, among the very first geometricians. Grimm
always treats him as such, and he gives some anecdotes of him.
" Fontaine vit a la campagne, et ne vient a Paris que rareraent. II
passe aupres des connaisseurs pour le premier geometre du royaume.
II met du genie dans ses ouvrages, et quand on le connait on n'est
pas difficile a persuader sur ce point. C'est un homme d'un tour
d'esprit tres-piquant. II reunit une finesse extreme a je ne sais
quoi de niais." (Corr. ii., 287.) It must, however, be confessed, that
Grimm writes on a subject he knew nothing of, having mixed
error with truth. Thus he says of D'Alembert, "Sans avoir rien
invente, il passe pour mettre bcaucoup d'elegance et de clarte dans
ses ouvrages geometriques," p. 215; thus praising him for exactly
that in which he is most deficient, and denying him the originality
which was his great merit. Of Clairaut he elsewhere says : " Un
tres-grand geometre, presque sur la ligne des Euler, des Fontaine,
des Bernouilli, et des D'Alembert. II avait moins de genie que Fon-
taine, plus de justesse et de surete et moins de penetration que
D'Alembert. Ce dernier a perdu a son mort un rival qui le tenait
sans cesse en haleine, et c'est une grande perte." (Corr. iv., 456.)
This latter passage is very just in all respects.

D'ALEMBERT. 417

of the greatest genius, gave the earliest intimation on
this important subject; for the function of one or both
variables which is multiplied by d x being called M, and
that function of one or both which is multiplied by d y
being called N, the canon or criterion of integrability is
that dM. d N

d y d x

and we certainly find this clearly given in a paper of
Fontaine's read before the Academy, 19th Nov., 1738.
It is the third theorem of that paper. Clairaut laid down
the same rule in a Memoir which he presented in 1739;
but he admits in that Memoir his having seen Fontaine's
paper. He expounds the subject more largely in his far
fuller and far abler paper of 1740; and there he says
that Fontaine showed his theorem to the Academy the day
this second paper of Clairaut's was read — erroneously, for
Fontaine had shown it in November, 1738; and had said
that it was then new at Paris, and was sent from thence
to Euler and Bernouilli. The probability is, that Clairaut
had discovered it independent of Fontaine, as Euler cer-
tainly had done; and both of them handled it much
more successfully than Fontaine. D'Alernbert, in his
demonstrations, 1769, of the theorems on the integral
calculus, given by him without any demonstration in the
volume for 1767, and in the scholium to the twenty-first
theorem, affirms distinctly that he had communicated to
Clairaut a portion of the demonstration, forming a corol-
lary to the proposition, and from, which he says that
Clairaut derived his equation of condition to differentials
involving three variables. It is possible; but as this
never was mentioned in Clairaut's lifetime, although
there existed a sharp controversy between these two

2 B

418 D'ALEMBERT.

great men on other matters, and especially as the equa-
tion of conditions respecting two variables might very
easily have led to the train of reasoning by which this
extension of the criterion was found out, the probability
is, that Clairaut's discovery was in all respects his own.

The extreme importance of this criterion to the
method of partial differences, only invented, or at least
applied, some years later, is obvious. Take a simple
case in a differential equation of the first order,—

dz = (2axy — ys) dx + (ax* — 3xy*) dy
where M. = 2axy — y3, N = ax2 ~3xy*

dM.
For the criterion -j— • - 2 a x — 3 y*

dN

-,— = 2 ax — 3 w«
dy

rfM

gives us -j— = -,— '

ay dx

which shows that the equation ~Nldx + Ndy is a
complete differential, and may be integrated. Thus inte-
grate (ax'2 — 3 x y*) d y, as if a; were constant, and add
X (a function of x, or a constant), as necessary to com-
plete the integral, and we have

ax*y — xy3 + X = Z;
now differentiate, supposing y constant, and we have

dz

(because of the criterion) =<2axy — y*t

dX
consequently 7 = o, and X = C, a constant.

Accordingly, z = a x1 y-~xif + C ;

D'ALEMBERT. 419

and so it is, for differentiating in the ordinary way, x and
y being both variable, we have

dz — Zaxydx + ax* dy — 3xy* dy — y'J dx
= (Zaxy — yz] dx + (a xl — 3 xy^ dy

which was the equation given to be integrated.

To take another instance in which —j— , the differ-

a jc

ential coefficient of the quantity added is not = o or X
constant. Let

dz=y*dx + 3x*dx + 2 x y dy
in which, by inspection, the solution is easy —

z = xy* + .r3 + C
Here M = «/* + 3 x* N = 2x.y

and

dy dx

So z — x y* + X, and differentiating with respect to
dz dX

Hence X = sc3 + C

and z = xy* + x* + C,

the integral of the equation proposed.

It must, however, be observed of the criterion, that an
equation may be integrable which does not answer the
condition

dy dx

It may be possible to separate the variables and
obtain X dx — Y dy, as by transformation; or to find a
factor, which, multiplying the equation, shall render it

* 2 E 2

420 D'ALEMBERT.

integrable, by bringing it within that condition. The
latter process is the most hopeful; and it is generally
affirmed that such a factor, F, may always be found for
every equation of the first order involving only two
variables. However, this is only true in theory: we
cannot resolve the general equation by any such means;
for that gives us

_ _

dxt dx dy

an expression as impossible to disentangle, it may safely
be asserted, as any for the resolution of which its aid
might be wanted. It is only in a few instances of the
values of these functions (M and N) that we can succeed
in finding F.

It is here to be 'observed, that not only Fontaine had,
apparently, first of all the geometricians, given the crite-
rion of integrability, but he had also given the notation
which was afterwards adopted for the calculus of Partial
Differences. </> being a function of two variables, x and

y, he makes — - stand for the differential coefficient of

& when x only varies, and — - for the same differential

y d6

coefficient when y only varies. Hence he takes — - x d «r,

CL X

not, as in the ordinary notation it would be, = d </>, the
complete differential of <i>; whereas that differential
would, in this solution, be

ax dy

D'ALEMBERT. 421

Thus if </> —xy\ its complete clif. d </> = 2yxdy + y*d.r,
but '

It is quite clear, therefore, that Fontaine gave the nota-
tion of this calculus.

But D'Alembert had been anticipated in the method
itself, as well as in the notation or algorithm; for Euler,
in a paper entitled 'Investigatio functionum ex data diifer-
entialiuni conditione/ dated 1 734,"" integrated an equation
of partial differences ; and lie had afterwards forgotten
his own new calculus, so entirely as to believe that it was
first applied by D'Alembert in 1744. So great were the
intellectual riches of the first of analysts, that he could
thus afford to throw away the invention of a new and
most powerful calculus! A germ of the same method
is plainly to be traced in Nicolas Bernouilli's paper f in
the ' Acta Eruditorum' for 1720, on Orthogonal Trajec-
tories.|

* 'Petersburgh Memoirs/ Vol. VII.

t See, too, the paper in John Bernouilli's Works, Vol. II., p. 442,
where he investigates the transformation of the differential equation
dx = P dy (P being a function of a, x, and y) into one, in which a
also is variable.

$ While upon the subject of Partial Differences, we must natu-
rally feel some disappointment that this important subject has not
been treated more systematically, especially by later analysts.
Some of these, indeed, seem to have formed an extremely vague
notion of its nature. Thus Professor Leslie, in his declamatory and
inaccurate Dissertation on the progress of mathematical and physical
science, (' Encyc. Brit.,' I., 600,) gives a definition of this calculus,
which is really that of the fluxional or differential calculus in
general, and which, though authorized by an inaccurate passage in
Bossut's excellent work, (' Integ. and Dif. Cal.,' II., 351,) could never
have been adopted by any one who did more than copy after another.

422 D'ALEMBERT.

While mentioning Fontaine's great and original genius
for analytical investigations, we must not overlook his
having apparently come very near the Calculus of Varia-
tions. In a paper read at the Academy, 17th February,
1734, we find a passage that certainly looks towards
that calculus, and shews that he used a new algorithm as
requisite for conducting his operation : — " J'ai etc oblige,"
he says, " de faire varier les niemes lignes en deux mani-
eres differentes. II a fallu designer leurs variations dif-
feremment." " J'ai marque les unes commes les geometres
Anglais par des fluxions (points) ; les autres par des dif-
ferences (d x) a notre nianiere ; de sorte qu'ici d x ne
sera pas la rneme chose que x, d x que 'x" (p. 18.)
" II peut y avoir," he afterwards adds, " des problernes
qui dependroient de cette methode fluxio-differentielle."

Nothing that has now been said can, in any manner,
detract from the renown justly acquired by D'Alembert
and Lagrange as the first who fully expounded the two
great additions to the Differential Calculus, first applied
them systematically to the investigation of physical as
well as mathematical questions, and therefore may truly

He afterwards (p. 606) supposes Clairaut's addition to the inverse
square of the distance ( —^ + —^ \ to have been adding what he

calls " a small portion of the inverse cube joined to the ordinary
term of the inverse square;" and he considers, most unaccount-
ably, that this is not a function of the distance at all. His account
of the calculus of variations is equally vague; and the example
unhappily chosen is one in which the relations of the co-ordinates
do not change, but only the amount of the parameter (Ib., p. 600.)
I must also most respectfully enter my protest here, once more,
against mathematicians writing metaphorically and poetically, as
this learned Professor does in almost every sentence.

D'ALEMBERT. 423

be said to have first taught the use of them as instru-
ments of research to geometricians/''5'

In the year 1746 the Academy of France proposed,-
as the subject of its annual prize essay for 1748, the
disturbances produced by Jupiter and Saturn mutually
on each other's orbits. Euler's Memoir gained the prize ;
and it contains the solution of the famous Problem of
the Three Bodies — namely, to find the path which one
of those bodies describes round another when all three
attract each other with forces varying inversely as the
squares of their distances, their velocities and masses
being given, and their directions in the tangents of their
orbits, f This, which applies to the case of the Moon,
would be resolved were we in possession of the solu-
tion for the case of Jupiter and Saturn, which, instead
of revolving round each other, revolve round the third
body. Euler's investigation did not appear quite satis-
factory; and, in 1750 the same subject was announced
for 1752, when he again carried off the prize by a paper
exhausting the subject, and affording such an approxi-
mation to the solution as the utmost resources of the
integral calculus can give. But while we admit, because
its illustrious author himself admitted, the justice of the
Academy's views respecting his first solution, we must

* There was nothing in the observation of Fontaine that can be
termed an anticipation of Lagrange, though D'Alembert, unknown to
himself, had certainly been anticipated by Euler.

t The problem of the Three Bodies, properly speaking, is more
general ; but, in common parlance, it is confined to the particular
case of gravitation, and indeed of the sun, earth, and moon, as three
bodies attracting each other by the law of gravitation, and one
of which is incomparably larger than the other two.

424 D'ALEMBERT.

never forget the extraordinary genius displayed in it.
He did not communicate the whole, or even the more
essential portion of his investigation, but he afterwards
gave it in a paper to the Berlin Academy in 1740, and
in another to the Petersburgh Academy in 1750, the first
of these containing our earliest view of the variation of
arbitrary constants in differential equations, and the
development of the radical which expresses the relative
distance between two planets in a series of sines and
co-sines of angles multiples of the elongation, a series
so artistly framed that every three consecutive terms
are related together in such a manner as to give the
whole series from a determination of the first two
terms. Clairaut appears to have turned his attention
to the same problem some time before Euler. In 1743,
he gave a Memoir on the Moon's Orbit, according to
the Newtonian theory of gravitation, and it appears
in the volume for that year; but this paper must be ad-
mitted to have been a somewhat slight performance for
so consummate a geometrician. It rather evaded the diffi-
culties of the problem than surmounted by encountering
them; for he assumed the orbit of the moon to differ
imperceptibly from a circle ; and his differential equation
could not have been integrated without this supposition.
Now, the only assumptions which had been conceived
permissible were the incomparably greater mass of one
body than those of the two others,* the nearly equal

* In truth, the mass of the sun being 355,000 times that of the
earth, and that of the earth being between sixty-eight and sixty-nine
times that of the moon, the mass of the sun is twenty-five millions
of time* greater than that of the

D;ALEMBERT. 425

distance of that body from each of the two others, and
the almost elliptical path of the one whose orbit was
sought, leaving its deviation from that path alone to be
sought after. Accordingly, the paper of 1743 did not
satisfy its illustrious author, who, in 1747, produced
another worthy of the subject and of himself. This was
read 15th November, 1747, but part of it had been read
in August. He asserts positively in a note ('Mem./ 1745,
p. 335,) that though Euler's first paper had been sent in
the same year, he had never seen it till after his solution
was obtained; therefore, Lalande had no right to state
in his note to the very bad edition of Montucla which
he published, wholly incapable of the task, that Fon-
taine always said that Clairaut was enabled to obtain his
solution by the paper of Euler, (Vol. iv. p. 66.)

At the time that Clairaut was engaged in this
investigation, D'Alembert, unknown to him, was working
upon the same subject. Their papers were presented on
the same day, and Clairaut's solution was unknown to
D'Alembert; but so neither could D'Alembert's solution
have been known to Clairaut, because the paper is
general on the problem, and the section applicable to the
moon's orbit was added after the rest was first read, and
was never read at all to the Academy. Nothing, there-
fore, can be more clear than that neither of these great
geometricians borrowed from the other, or from Euler.
It is just possible that Euler in his complete solution
of 1752 might have had the advantage of their pre-
vious ones; but as it clearly flowed from his earlier
paper, there is no doubt also of his entire originality.
Nevertheless, when D'Alembert's name became mixed
up with the party proceedings among the literary and

426 D'ALEMBERT.

fashionable circles of Paris, there were not wanting those
who insisted that the whole fame of this great inquiry
belonged to Clairaut ; and it is painful to reflect on the
needless uneasiness which such insinuations gave to
D'Alembert. We shall recur to the subject after-
wards, and now must continue the history of this
problem.

Thus, in investigating this famous "Problem of the
Three Bodies," all the three geometricians, without com-
municating together, took the same general course in the
field, like three navigators of consummate skill and most
practised experience tracing the pathless ocean, unseen
by one another, and each trusting to his seamanship,
his astronomical observations, and his time-keeper, and
all of them steering separately the same course. They
were each led to three equations, which nearly resembled
those obtained by the other two. Of the three equations
the most important is —

T^-P»

a u d v

dv* + U+- * °

in which u is the reciprocal of the projection on the plane
of the ecliptic of the moon's distance from the earth, v
the moon's longitude with respect to the centre of
gravity of the earth and moon, P and T the resultants
respectively of all the forces acting on the moon parallel

and perpendicular to -, and parallel to the plane of

the ecliptic, h an arbitrary constant. P and T being
complicated functions of the longitudes of the sun and
moon, as well as of the eccentricities of their orbits

D'ALEMBERT. 427

have to be developed for the further solution of the
problem.

Now, it is a truly remarkable circumstance that the
conclusion at which all these great men separately arrived
was afterwards found to be erroneous. They made the
revolving motion of the moon's apogee (or the revolution
which the most distant part of her orbit makes in a cer-
tain time) half as much as the observations shew it to
be; and in a revolution of the moon, 1° 30' 43", instead
of 3° 2' 32" the observations giving about nine years for
the period, which the revolution really takes, instead of
eighteen. Clairaut first stated this apparent failure of
the Newtonian theory, and as he had taken pains to
make the investigation "avec toute 1'exactitude qu'elle
dernandoit," ('Mem/ 1745, p. 336,) he was with great
reluctance driven to conclude that the doctrine of gravi-
tation failed to account for the progression of the apogee
or revolution of the lunar orbit ; and if so, as Euler justly
observed, (Prix., torn, vii., ' Recherches sur Jupiter et
Saturne,' p. 4,) we must have been entitled to call in
question the operation of the same principle on all the
other parts of the planetary system. Clairaut even went
so far as to propose, in consequence of the supposed
error, a modification of the law of gravitation ; and that
we should, instead of considering it as in the proportion

of _ , (d being the distance,) regard it as proportional

\AJ

partly to -=a, the inverse square, and partly to — , the

d a

inverse fourth power of the distance. But this sugges-
tion was far from giving satisfaction even to those who
admitted the failure of the theory. A controversy arose

428 D'ALEMBERT.

between this great geometrician and a very unworthy
antagonist, Buffon, who, on vague, metaphysical, and even
declamatory grounds, persisted in shewing his ignorance
of analysis, and his obstinate vanity; nor, though he
was by accident, quite right, could any one give him the
least credit for his good fortune. Clairaut answered him,
and afterwards rejoined to his reply, with a courtesy
which betokened entire civility and even respect for the
person, with an infinitely low estimation of either his
weight or his strength — quantities truly evanescent. At
length it occurred to him that the process should be
repeated, a course which he certainly must have taken at
first had he not naturally enough been misled by the
singular coincidence of both Euler and D'Alembert*
having arrived at the same conclusion with himself. He
found that he ought to have repeated his investigation of
the differential equation to the radius, after obtaining, by
a first investigation, the value of the third term above
given in that equation—

T ^ - &c. ,

d v (as above given.)

! + &c.

This omission he now supplied, and he found that the
result, when applied to the case, made the progression of
the moon's apogee twice as quick as the former operation
had given it, or nine years, agreeing with the actual obser-
vation. He deposited, in July, 1746, with the secretary

* Euler had stated it incidentally, as regarded the lunar apogee,
in his prize memoir, in 1746, on Jupiter and Saturn, but he men-
tioned it more fully in a letter to Clairaut. ('Mem.' 1745, p. 353,
note.)

D'ALEMBERT. 429

of the Academy, as well as with Sir Martin Folkes, presi-
dent of the Royal Society, a sealed paper containing the
heads of his analysis, but delayed the publication of it
until he should complete the whole to his satisfaction : a
most praiseworthy caution, after the error that had been
committed in the first instance. He announced, how-
ever, the result, and its confirming the Newtonian theory,
in May of the same year ; and added, that his reasoning
was purely geometrical, and had no reference to vague
topics, giving, at the same time, a conclusive exposition
of Bufibn's ignorance in his hot attack, which showed
him to be wholly incapable of appreciating any part of
the argument. In May, 1752, the Memoir itself was
given to the Academy, and it appears in the volume for
1748.* It is entitled, "De TOrbite de la Lune, en ue
negligeant pas les quarres des quantites de merne ordre
avec les forces perturbatrices ;" which has misled many in
their conception of the cause to which the error must be
ascribed. But in the volume for 1748, p. 433, he leaves
no doubt on that cause ; for he states that having origi-
nally taken the radius vector r, (the reciprocal of u in our

k

former equation,) = , he now takes fully

1 — cos. m v

k 2 v

that reciprocal u or _ = 1 — e cos. m v + /3 cos.

r n

cos.

— 7 cos. ( — — m) v + 8 cos. ( - + m) v —
^ n xn

2 \

/- — 2 m } v, terms obtained by the first or trial integra-

\n /

* For an account of the irregular and irrational manner in which
the Memoirs of the Academy were published, see ' Life of Lavoisier.'
The inconvenience of it meets us everywhere.

430 D'ALEMBERT.

tion, which he had fully explained in his first Memoir to
be the more correct mode of proceeding, ('Mem./ 1745.
p. 352;) and the consequence of this is to give the mul-
tiplier, on which depends the progression of the apogee,
a different value from what it was found to have in the
former process. It is never to be forgotten that the
original investigation was accurate as far as it went; but
by further extending the approximation a more correct
value of m was obtained, in consequence of which the
expression for the motion of the apogee became double
that which had been calculated before.

It should be observed, in closing the subject of the
Problem of Three Bodies, that Euler no sooner heard of
Clairaut's final discovery, than he confirmed it by his own
investigation of the subject, as did D'Alembert. But in
the mean time Matthew Stuart, (Life of Simson, vol. i.)
had undertaken to assail this question by the mere help
of the ancient geometry, and had marvellously succeeded
in reconciling the Newtonian theory with observation.
Father Walmisley, a young English priest of the Benedic-
tine order, also gave an analytical solution of the diffi-
culty in 1749.

The other great problem, the investigation of which
occupied D'Alembert, was the Precession of the equi-
noxes and the Nutation of the earth's axis, according to
the theory of gravitation. Sir Isaac Newton, in the
xxxix. prop, of the third book, had given an indirect
solution of the problem concerning the Precession; the
Nutation had only been by his unrivalled sagacity con-
jectured a priori, and was proved by the observations of
Bradley. The solution of the Precession had not proved
satisfactory; and objections were taken to the hypotheses

D'ALEMBERT. 431

on which it rested, that the accumulation of matter at
the equator might be regarded as a belt of moons, that
its movement might be reckoned in the proportion of its
mass to that of the earth, and that the proportion of the
terrestrial axes is that of 229 to 230 ; that the earth is
homogeneous, and that the action of the sun and moon
ad mare movendum, are as one to four and a half nearly,
and in the same rate ad equinoctia movenda. Certainly
the three last suppositions have since Newton's time
been displaced by more accurate observations; the axes
being found, to be as 298 to 299, the earth not homoge-
neous, and the actions of the sun and moon on the tides
more nearly as one to three. But it has often been observed
and truly observed, that when D'Alembert came to dis-
cuss the subject, it would have been more becoming in
him to assign his reasons for denying the other hypothesis
on which the Newtonian investigation rests, than simply
to have pronounced it groundless. However, it is cer-
tain that he first gave a direct and satisfactory solution
of this great problem ; and that he investigated the Nuta-
tion with perfect success, showing it to be such that if it
subsisted alone, (i. e., if there were no precessional motion)
the pole of the equinoctial would described among the
stars a minute ellipse, having its longer axis about
18" and its shorter about 13", the longer being directed
towards the pole of the ecliptic, and the shorter of course
at right angles to it. He also discovered in his investi-
gations that the Precession is itself subject to a variation,
being in a revolution of the nodes, sometimes accelerated,
sometimes retarded, according to a law which he dis-
covered, giving the equation of correction. It was in 1 749
that he gave this admirable investigation ; and in 1755

432 D'ALEMBERT.

lie followed it up with another first attempted by him,
namely, the variation which might occur to the former
results, if the earth, instead of being a sphere oblate at the
poles, were an elliptic spheroid, whose axes were different.
He added an investigation of the Precession on the sup-
position of the form being any other curve approaching
the circle. This is an investigation of as great diffi-
culty perhaps as ever engaged the attention of analysts.
It remains to add that Euler, in 1750, entered on the
same inquiries concerning Precession and Nutation ;
and with his wonted candour, he declared that he had
read D'Alembert's memoir before he began the investi-
gation.

The only other works of D'Alernbert which it is neces-
sary to mention, are his three papers on the integral cal-
culus. Of these one, in the Berlin Memoirs, is replete with
improvements extremely important in the methods of in-
tegration, and contains a method of treating linear equa-
tions of any order that serve as a foundation for the
approximate solutions, which are absolutely indispensable
to physical astronomy in the present imperfect state of
the calculus. The other two are in the French Academy's
Memoirs for 1757 and 1769, the latter giving the demon-
strations of the theorems on integration contained in the
former. It is in the twenty-first of these that he claims
having suggested, as we have already seen, to Clairaut his
equation of conditions in the case of three variables. The
' Opuscules' contain likewise, especially the 4th, 5th, and
7th volumes, some most important papers on the calculus.
Nor must we omit to record that there is every reason
to give him credit for having discovered Taylor's Theorem.
It is certain that he first gave this celebrated formula

D'ALEMBERT. 433

complete, having, in the article 'Series' of the 'Encyclo-
pedic/ first given the remaining terms left out by Taylor,
and also a demonstration of the whole, better than the
original inventor's. Oondorcet, who only knew the
Theorem from this exposition of it, treats him as certainly
being its author ; and D'Alembert himself, citing no other
discoverer, plainly gives it as altogether his own""".

I have thought it better to pursue the same method in
treating of D'Alembert's works that I adopted respecting
Voltaire's, giving all his scientific researches, his import-
ant physical and analytical discoveries, in a connected
order, and thus avoiding the interruption of the series
which an exclusive regard to the chronological succession
of his different works on all subjects would have occa-
sioned. We must now return to the history of his life,
and the other pursuits with which his severer studies
were interrupted, and his enjoyments, as it were, varie-
gated.

In those scientific pursuits, the history of which we
have been surveying, he passed the first eighteen years
after he left the College, and he passed them in un-
interrupted tranquillity and happiness, in tasting the
pleasure of contemplating the relations of necessary
truths, in adding to the number which had been before
ascertained, and in enlarging the sphere of his own use-

* If very small things might be compared to great, I should note
the circumstance — the accident, I may well term it — of my having
hit upon the Binomial Theorem, and given it as an exercise to
Professor Playfair, when attending his class in 1794. He kept my
paper, and used to mention this circumstance. He said he concluded
I had found it only by induction, which was true. The demonstra-
tion is, indeed, very difficult.

2 F

434 D'ALEMBERT.

fulness as well as his feme. His existence had been one
which the children of this world, the pampered sons of
wealth and fashion, the votaries of vulgar pleasure, and
the slaves of ordinary ambition would regard as obscure
and even wretched; for he had neither wealth nor rank,
and all his gratifications were of a purely intellectual
kind. But his enjoyment had been unbroken ; he had
no wants unsupplicd; he tasted perfect tranquillity of
mind ; and his friends, who esteemed him, were great men
of congenial habits. He had now passed his thirty-fifth
year —

" II mezzo tli camin di nostra vita." — DANTE.

His devotion to the mathematics had all along estranged
him from those branches of physical science which do not
lend themselves to analytical investigation. Indeed, as I
have shown in the Life of Sirnson, he appears even to have
disregarded all geometrical inquiries which were uncon-
nected with modern analysis. But he had always culti-
vated a taste for the belles-lettres, and both read and un-
derstood poetry. He was also well acquainted with moral
and metaphysical subjects. The singularity is, therefore,
great, that he should have had no taste for the inductive
sciences. Herein he differed widely from other great geo-
metricians. To say nothing of the greatest of mathemati-
cians, Newton himself, alike of inexhaustible resources in
experimental as in analytical and geometrical investi-
gation, Euler and Laplace both were much attached to
experimental philosophy. D'Alenibert had, moreover,
lived in the society of several persons whose pursuits
were not at all confined to the mathematics, and with
some for whom that science had no attractions. Of these

D'ALEMBERT. 435

Diderot was his most intimate and earliest friend; and
he it was who prevailed upon him to join in the conduct
of a great literary undertaking, the first French Encyclo-
paedia. This work was published at Paris from 1751
to 1758; and of these seven volumes D'Alenibert and
Diderot were the joint editors. D'Aleinbert also con-
tributed many of the best articles, and wrote the cele-
brated Preliminary Discourse upon the distribution and
the progress of the sciences. The merit of those articles
is generally, as might have been expected from such a
writer, great in proportion as he exerted himself to
elaborate and to finish them. But the best are, as might
have been expected, the mathematical.

The Preliminary Discourse has, in my very humble
opinion, and speaking with an unfeigned respect for
both its illustrious author and its eminent eulogists,
been praised much beyond its merits. The very ground
of those panegyrics, that it traces the invention of
the sciences and the arts to the necessities and the
desires of individual nature, seems to be a satisfac-
tory proof how fanciful and indeed how confined the
whole plan of the work is. Professor Stewart has most
justly remarked ('Dissertation, Encyc. Brit. Introd/)
that there is in the Discourse a total confusion of
two things, in themselves wholly different and which
ought to have been carefully kept distinct — the character
and circumstances and progress of the individual, and
those of the species. It is the scientific advance of the
race that the author professes to treat; but he is con-
stantly dealing with the unfolding of the faculties in the
man. There arises from hence a most shadowy, in-
distinct, and vague view of most points discussed. And

2 F2

436 D'ALEMBERT.

not unconnected with this confusion is the other main
error of the whole treatise, the error into which Bacon
had fallen before; the sciences are classified under the
heads of memory, imagination, and reason, only Bacon's
arrangement revived. But nothing can be more fanciful,
nothing less accurate, than such a distribution, which
sacrifices sense to point, and sound principles of classifi-
cation to outward symmetry and affected simplicity.
The total want of precision, and of logical arrangement
in the details of this division, is indeed striking. Thus
under History we have Natural History, or a record of
all facts, whether relating to animals, or vegetables, or
minerals, or the heavenly bodies, or the elements, as
to heat, air, water, meteors. Then in what does this
differ from inductive or experimental philosophy, which
yet forms a branch of the second great division \ More-
over, why are moral facts omitted in the division of
History ? Then the application of natural powers to
different uses is another branch of History, and thus all
the arts are introduced under this head. In the division
of Natural Philosophy we find equal want of precision.
Can anything be more inexplicable than to find a person,
who like D'Alembert was both a mathematician and a
metaphysician, treating mathematics at a branch of
natural science, as if number, or indeed quantity, could
be regarded as a physical existence ? Not more happy
is the execution of this plan in the moral and intellectual
division. These are ranged under the science of Man.
Then what place has the subject of instinct, which is just
as intellectual a branch as that of reason \ Logic is defined
to be the science of intellect, or the means of finding
truth ; Morals, that of the will, or the grounds of virtue.

D'ALEMBERT. 437

But the Fancy is as much a subject of intellectual science
as the Reason. Moreover the moral qualities belong to
the understanding. Under Logic he brings hieroglyphics
and heraldry ('La Science du Blason'), and also rhetoric,
including the art of versification ; but poetry belongs to
the third great division, Imagination, though oratory is
ranged under the second, with Logic.

Thus of this celebrated classification and the famous
genealogical tree applied to it, the object of so much
self-gratulation with the Encyclopaedists, we may fairly
judge by its fruits, and they are of but mean value. It
shares the same blame, however, with the division of
Bacon, the root and seed from which it springs. We
find that great master of logic classifying the mechanical
arts and history together; nay, in his threefold division
of the sciences, according as the Deity, man, or external
nature are their objects, he classes intellectual and moral
philosophy with anatomy and medicine, optics and
acoustics with ethics, the chemical qualities of human
bones and blood with human philosophy, that of animal
bones and blood with natural philosophy. So D'Alern-
bert not lagging behind his master in paradox affirms
that imagination has the greatest share in metaphysics
and geometry of all the sciences connected with reason.

That the celebrated Discourse contains many bold
general views, often more bold indeed than considerate,
that it abounds with learning, that it is full of ingenious
suggestions, is perfectly true. That it is written in a
plain, perspicuous style, well suited to a didactic work,
is also certian. But that the impression which it pro-
duced was owing much more to its large scope, to the
amplitude of its range, than to the soundness of its doc-

438 D'ALEMBERT.

trines, or even to any felicity with which these were
illustrated, is, I believe, now the opinion of all who im-
partially consider the subject.

No sooner did the great work appear, to which this
Discourse formed the introduction, than the freedom
which marked some of the opinions delivered, perhaps the
omission of certain subjects altogether, but certainly
much more than either of these circumstances, the well-
known sentiments upon religious questions of many con-
tributors, though that subject was in general avoided
with care, raised a great opposition among the friends
of the Church, who were soon joined by those of the
temporal government ; and this hostility was encouraged
by all who made a trade of literature, the professed
authors not belonging to the circle of the Encyclopedists,
a name soon applied not only to the authors of the work
but to the whole free-thinking part of the community.
The storm soon became general, but the article 'Geneve'
was the first cause of attack. The free constitution of
that little republic was praised, the conduct of its magis-
trates commended, the character of its people extolled,
but there were doubts thrown upon the orthodoxy of its
pastors, and a distinct condemnation was pronounced of
Calvin's prohibition of the drama being still maintained
in force.

Rousseau, though himself the author of plays and
operas, attacked this article. His 'Letter' had extra-
ordinary success, and D'Alembert's reply is on all hands
allowed to have been a failure. Even his indiscriminate
panegyrist, Condorcet, is fain to confess " Nous avouons
sans peine que sa reponse eut moms de succes." (' Hist.
Ac.' 1783, p. 102.) The attack on the Encyclopedists

D'ALKMBEKT. 439

was not confined to their literary adversaries or rivals,
terms far too frequently synonymous, to the disgrace of
letters. The circles of fashion, which at Paris always
had their factious divisions, and always connected them-
selves both with literature and the theatre, took their
share in the controversy. The clergy, of course, were
not slow to join ; and the Government became influenced
against the great work and its conductors. D'Alembert
now first knew what it was to have the hitherto unruffled
calm of a geometrician's life broken and agitated by the
tempests of controversy and of faction. Though he had
never lived retired from the world, yet he had not been
so mixed up in its affairs as to have acquired the cal-
lousness by which practical men soon become protected
against the bufferings of the world. He could not easily
reconcile himself to the bitterness that assailed him, and
the injustice to which it led. When the Government
refused in 1758 to let the 'Encyclopedic' be any longer
published in France, and its seat was transferred to
Neufchatel, he retired from all share in the direction,
(which Diderot alone continued to exercise,) and only
contributed articles on mathematical and metaphysical
subjects.

During the stormy years which now passed over his
head he published his ' Melanges de Philosophic, d'His-
toire, et de Litterature/ his ' Memoirs of Queen Christina
of Sweden/ his ' History of the Fall of the Jesuits/ and
his ' Essay on the Intercourse of Literary Men with the
Great/ a work in which he reads to his brethren lessons
of independence, fully as distasteful as wholesome. His
serious, rational, and dignified remonstrances are known
to have at least had the salutary effect of terminating

440 D'ALEMBERT.

the degrading practice of authors dedicating their works,
both of fancy and of science, to the great, in addresses
which savoured rather of prostrate submission before a
superior being, than of gratitude for human patronage.
He had long before accommodated his own practice to
the course which his principles, as expounded in this
Essay, would sanction ; his first work (the ' Dynamique')
having been inscribed to M. de Maurepas, Minister of
Marine, in a respectful but dignified address, only stating
that a scientific work was naturally enough dedicated to
a statesman who protected the sciences.""

The annoyance and frequent irritation which the
deviations from his proper pursuits occasioned him,
made him always most willing to resume his more cairn
and congenial occupation. His researches on various
important questions of physical astronomy, and his com-
pletion of the solution which he had a few years before
given, as we have seen, of the great problem of disturbing
forces, were published during the stormy years of his
life. But it is truly painful to think that the soreness
which he experienced from unjust attacks was supposed
on more than one occasion to extend its influence into
the serene regions of abstract science, and that the geo-
metrician and the controversialist were sometimes per-
ceived to be the same individual. The absurd attempt

* His dedication to M. D'Argenson of his ' Essai sur la Resistance
des Fluides,' did not by any means conform to his principles. After
praising many other qualities, he ascribes, perhaps with some show of
justice, to that virtuous Minister, " Modestie, candeur, amour du bien
public, et toutes les vertus que uotre siecle se contente d'estimer."
Did he mean to conceal under the latter branch of this sentence
only the meaning that M. D'Argenson gives an example of loving
the virtues which other.- only admired ?

D'^LEMBERT. 441

of ignorant men to depreciate his labours in the great
problem, by representing him as borrowing from Clairaut,
instead of only exciting his indignation against the silly
propagators of such insinuations, which assuredly had no
countenance whatever from Clairaut, as we have already
seen, led him to show more heat than beseemed the geo-
metrical character in scientific disputes on the subject
with that illustrious colleague, whom he shewed an
unworthy disposition to differ with. A controversy of
some length arose between them, when the principles of
the solution respecting the lunar orbit were applied to
the construction of lunar tables. D'Alembert's were
published in his 'Recherches' in 1754, and he soon found
their inaccuracy to be considerable; the results of his
calculations sometimes differing seven or eight minutes
from the observations. He was obliged in 1756 to give
a corrected set after further investigation. Clairaut was
writing at the same time on this subject, and he had
received a prize from the Academy of Petersburg^ for
his work. D'Alernbert, who had been a candidate too,
attacked his methods in his ' Recherches/ 1 756. Clairaut
gave a criticism of this book and of the author's method
in the ' Journal de Sc, avans ;' D'Alembert replied in the
'Mercure;' and Clairaut rejoined in 1758. The same
unworthy spirit broke out on Clairaut having applied his
investigation of the disturbing forces to the comet of
1682, (Halley's comet,) expected in 1759, but appearing
a month earlier than Clairaut foretold, owing to an error
of nineteen days in the computation. Anonymous attacks
upon him he ascribed to D'Alembert, and a long series
of controversial papers in different journals ensued; until
Clairaut appeared to silence his adversary by an elabo-

442 D'ALEMBERT.

rate summary of the dispute, in 176 2*. Again, when
Clairaut investigated the figure of the earth upon the hy-
pothesis of a variable density in the different zones, but the
same throughout each, D'Alembert was not satisfied with

* I observe that Montucla (vol. iv. p. 72) considers D'Alembert
as the author of the anonymous attacks, but he is evidently preju-
diced against him. Indeed it is not clear that the editor, Lalande,
may not have modified some passages. A person who could write
the note about Clairaut might, indeed, be rather suspected of leaning
against him. But there is no being certain respecting one who is so
weak as Lalaude; one who, not content with constantly recording his
own small exploits in science, prints a motto under his portrait in the
edition of Montucla, purporting that though the heavens were under
his empire, and his genius penetrated through space, he yet reigned
still more in the hearts of men. His flippant note (vol. iv. p. 188,)
on Boscovich shews his dislike of D'Alembert. " Le Pere Bos-
covich ne fesait pas autant de calcul integral que D'Alembert, inais
il avoit bien autant d'esprit." He charges D'Alembert with per-
secuting the Pere all his life. But little reliance can be placed on
this assertion, at least if we may judge by the manifest falsehood of
his statement, that " D'Alembert attacked Boscovich in his ' Opus •
cule,' vol. i. p. 246;" for all the attack consists in defending him-
self against an objection made by " an Italian geometrician of note
in the science." The utter incompetency of a person like Lalaude
to edit such a work as Montucla's, can hardly be conceived without
reading what he has done. Such ignorance or want of judgment is
inconceivable, as could make him call Priestley's 'History of Optics'
(so he terms it) a work of great importance, and one of its author's
best, while by speaking of it as a book in 813 4to pages, he shows
that he never had seen it; such ignorance as could also make him
speak of Priestley's " universal erudition," (vol. iv. p. 604, 5.) The
entire want of common care as to dates is shewn in his quoting
Black's experiments as published in 1777. The analytical expres-
sions so abound with errors, possibly of the press, but which
Lalande was incapable of correcting, that nothing can be more
unsatisfactory than reading the book ; nothing more tiresome than
using the formulas, and finding, after perhaps a laborious inves-
tigation, as has happened to myself, that there was a gross error in
1 hem

D'ALEMBERT. 443

giving his own solution more generally and more rigor-
ously, but assailed Clairaut's hypothesis. However, this
controversy was carried on with much less heat than the
former. Geometricians appear to be agreed that in the
one case, that of the lunar tables, Clairaut had the
decided advantage over his adversary, whose mind did
not easily lend itself to such details ; but that the balance
inclined in his favour upon the question of the earth's
figure, D'Alembert's solution being certainly more
general and less dependent upon assumption. His
treatise on this subject is universally admired by geome-
tricians, and it contains both the differential equations,
then first given, of the equilibrium of fluids, and the new
and most important theorem upon the relation between
the polar oblateness and increase of gravitation on all
possible suppositions of the earth's internal structure.
Finally, as regards this controversy, so painful to every
reflecting geometrician, all men must be satisfied that in
point of courtesy and candour there is no comparison
between the two combatants. D'Alembert's blunt habits,
which were excused in society as marks of simplicity,
gave an unpleasant tinge of bitterness to his controversial
writings, wholly unworthy of a philosopher, and little to
be expected and less to be excused on questions of pure
mathematics.

Let us, for relief from the pain which this portion of
D'Alembert's history gives, do, as he did in the actual
circumstances, retreat to geometry for comfort and for
calm. In the midst of the virulent attacks which his
' Melanges' called forth, and which were at the bottom of
his soreness towards Clairaut on very different topics, see
how he himself describes the trulv philosophical course

444 D'ALEMBERT.

which his better reason indicated, and which he generally
pursued : " Me voila claquenmre" (walled in, or built
round,) " pour long temps et vraiseinblement pour tou-
jours dans ma triste, ma tres chere, et tres paisible
geometric. Je suis fort content de trouver une pretexte
pour ne plus rien faire dans le dechainement que mon
livre a excite centre nioi. Je n'ai pourtant attaque
personne, ni nierne designe qui que ce soit plus que n'a
fait Fauteur du Me'chant, et vingt autres centre lesquels
personne ne s'est dechaine. Mais il y a hour et inal-
heur. Je n'ai besoin ni de 1'amitie de tous ces gens-la,
puisque assurement je ne veux rien leur demander, ni de
leur excuse, puisque j'ai bien resolu de ne jamais vivre
avec eux: aussi je les mets a pis faire" (to do their worst).
Again he says : " Eh bien ! vous ne voulez pas, ni Four-
inont non plus, que je me claqueniure dans ma geometric!
J'en suis pourtant bien tente ! si vous saviez combien
cette geometrie est une retraite douce a la paresse! et puis
les sots ne TOUS lisent point, et par consequent ne vous
blament, ni vous louent; et comptez-vous cet avantage
la pour rien1? En tout cas j'ai de la geometrie pour un
an tout an moins. Ah! que je fais a present de belles
choses que personne ne lira! J'ai bien quelques mor-
ceaux de litterature & traiter qui seroient peut-etre assez
agreables, mais je chasse tout cela de ma tete comuie
mauvais train. La geometric est ma femnie et je me suis
remis en menage. Avec cela j'ai plus d'argent devant
moi que je n'eii puis depenser. Ma foi, on est bien fou de
se tant connoitre par des choses qui ne rendent pas plus
heureux ; on a bien plutot fait de dire ' Ne pourrois-je pas
me passer de cela?' Et c'est la recette dont j'use depuis
long temps."

D'ALEMBERT. 445

It is to be considered that the abundance of income
which he thus speaks of was not much above one hundred
a year; for we know from himself that a short time
before he had but I700fs., or 68/., and the place of
Pensionnaire Surnumeraire, which he obtained by election
of the Academy in 1756, when he thus stated his means
of living, could not have exceeded lOOOfs.

In the autumn of 1 752, the King of Prussia, to whom
he had inscribed his Prize Memoir on the Winds, with
some tolerable Latin lines,""" invited him to settle in
Berlin, offering a pension of 500/. a year, apartments and
a table in the palace, with the office of President of the
Academy, in the event of Maupertuis' death, who was not
expected to live. D'Alembert refused this handsome
offer, on the ground of his whole enjoyment being the
society of his friends in the Parisian circle to which he
belonged; and of his somewhat excessive fear of any
connection which should interfere with, or put in jeopardy,
the perfect freedom so essential to his happiness — a feel-
ing so strong in him, that his friends used to say he was
" the slave of his own liberty." At this time he states,
in the correspondence with M. D'Argens, through whom
Frederick's offer was made, his income, as I have stated,
did not exceed I700fs. — not quite 70/. a year. The
scruple of delicacy which he felt as to Maupertuis was at
once removed by the King desiring him to take the
appointments independent of all connection with the
Academy, and assuring him that Maupertuis' wish was to
have him for a successor. But nothing could tempt him

* Hsec ego de Ventis, dum Veutorum ocyor alis
Palantes agit Austriacos Fredericus, et orbi,
Insignis lauro, ramum protendit olivse.

446 D'ALEMBERT.

to quit Paris. Ten years after this, he received a still
more flattering offer, and one which, to an ambitious
mind, would have presented more charms. The Empress
of Russia, in 1762, desired him to undertake the super-
intendence of her son's education — the Czarowitch, after-
wards the Emperor Paul. The appointments were £4000
a year, with residence in the palace. But still he pre-
ferred Paris, "the air of which agreed with his tastes
and habits, notwithstanding the intolerance he was
exposed to."

Indeed a great change had taken place in his manner
of life, before either the Prussian monarch or the
Russian became suitors for his favour. The society
in which he now lived was one to which he had,
about the year 1744, been introduced, and of which he
soon became an intimate and esteemed member. It fre-
quented the two houses of Mdrne. Geoffrin and Mdme.
du Duffand, or rather the house of the former, and
the apartment which the latter occupied in the Con-
vent of St. Joseph. Mdme. Geoffrin had succeeded to
the coterie which used to assemble round Mdine. du
Tencin, D'Alembert's mother; and all accounts agree in
representing her as a person of extraordinary merit-
sensible, clever, exceedingly amiable, of kindly disposition,
and of the most active, but unostentatious benevolence.
His intimacy continued to her death; or rather, as we
shall presently see, to the commencement of her long
illness. Mdme. du Duffand was a woman of another
caste — very clever, extremely satirical, extremely selfish,
and of a cold unamiable character. Beside meeting his
literary friends at her apartment, he there made an
acquaintance which proved the bane of his life.

D'ALEMBERT. 447

Mdlle. de 1'Espinasse was a young person of great bril-
liancy, and of a warm and romantic disposition, which con-
tributed as much as her talents to captivate all who came
within the sphere of her attraction. The similarity of
their history produced a mutual interest between her and
D'Alembert, for she too was an illegitimate child. She was
the daughter of Mdme. D'Albon, but not by her husband,
being the fruit of a criminal intercourse with her lover.
Mdine. D'Albon's daughter by her husband was married
to M. de Vichy, and she allowed her unfortunate sister
to live with her as a governess, her parents having only
settled twelve pounds a year upon her. Constant ill-
usage in this house made her willing to accept the oifer of
Mdrne. du Deffand, whose deceased husband was supposed
to be her father. The moderate sum of sixteen pounds
a year was to be allowed her; and in 1752 she went to
live with her new patroness. Her humble office was to
be the companion of that lady, to bear her intolerable
humours, and to read her to sleep at an early hour of
the morning — for in her life the night was turned into
day, and she seldom rose much before sunset, or went to
sleep before sunrise. The unhappy attendant was thus
condemned also to pass her day in bed; but she rose an
hour or two before her patroness, and that short interval,
her only enjoyment of life, was passed in receiving
D'Alembert and a few other friends, unknown to the
Marchioness, who, however, discovered these secret meet-
ings, and, treating them as a conspiracy against her,
drove the poor girl rudely from her situation, warning
D'Alembert, at the same time, that he must choose
between the two. As might be expected, he at once
preferred his young friend; and, joining with others,

448 D'ALEMBERT.

obtained for her both a suitable residence and a small
pension. An inflammation of the bowels, with which he
very soon after was seized, and which had well nigh
proved fatal, made it necessary, by the opinion of his
physicians, to remove from his old nurse's small and ill-
aired lodgings in the dark and narrow street, Rue
Michel-le-Comte, in which, as in one of his letters he tells
Voltaire, he only could see a yard or two of sky ; and he
took up his abode with Mdlle. de 1'Espinasse, who had
nursed him tenderly during his illness. No one whispered
a syllable of suspicion respecting a connection which all
were fully convinced could only be of the most innocent
kind; and he continued to reside in the same apartment
during the remaining twelve years of her singular life.
It is now necessary to state some particulars of this
attachment, which appear to have been given in an
authentic form, and which cannot be easily reconciled with
the feelings of a high and honourable nature, according
to the facts as they stand recorded under his own hand.
Marmontel, one of the circle (coterie), and an inti-
mate and admiring friend of D'Alembert, informs us that
this young lady began to entertain the design of fixing
in the substantial and regular form of wedded love, or at
least of matrimony, the hitherto erratic admiration of
which she had long been the object with many friends.
He mentions an accomplished officer, M. Guibert, know^n
for his able military writings, as the one on whom she
first set her affections; and when he escaped her, tells
us that she transferred her attempts to the Marquis
Mora, a young Spanish grandee of the Fuentes family.
But he falls into an evident mistake; for the correspon-
dence of Mdlle. de 1'Espinasse, since published, shews

D'ALEMBERT. 449

that she fell desperately in love with Guibcrt while she
was carrying on her affair with Mora. Guibert, more
wrary and more experienced, avoided the snare. The
Spaniard was completely caught; and being ordered
home by his family, fell ill, as was said, from the excess
of his passion. She obtained an opinion of Lorry, the
famous physician, that the air of France was necessary for
his recovery; and his family yielding to this representa-
tion, he set out for Paris, but died on the way. Not-
withstanding her passion for Guibert, which had been
intercalated as it were, she is said to have taken Mora's
death so much to heart, that her excitable and feeble
frame could not stand against the shock, and she died
about two years after, in May 1776.

Now, strange as it must seem to all men of right and
honourable feelings, D'Alembert was so completely the
dupe of his passion for her, that she made him the con-
fidant of hers for Mora. Nay, he was sent every morn-
ing to the post-office for his absent and favoured rival's
letters, that he might have them ready on her awaken-
ing. Nay, further, the opinion of Lorry which recalled
him, was obtained through the solicitation of D'Alembert,
the Doctor's intimate friend; and he wrote the most
tender letter to Mora's father, condoling upon the young
man's death. Marmontel sets all this down to the
account of his extreme devotion to his mistress, and the
great simplicity of his character. But this assumes that
he believed her to be really in love with Mora. D'Alem-
bert's own account is entirely different. In his 'Address
to her Manes,' and his ' Address at her Tomb,' we find
him distinctly complaining that she had deceived him,
and made him believe for eight years and upwards that

9 ri

450 D'ALEMBERT.

she loved him, when he discovered, by a paper left for
him to read after her death, that all the time she really
loved another. She appointed him her executor; and
he found that she had kept masses of letters from others
and not one from himself; also she bequeathed all these
letters to different persons and none to him. He then
bursts out into this complaint : — " Pourquoi les devoirs
que cette execution in'iinposoit m'ont-ils appris, ce que
je ne devois pas savoir et ce que j'aurois desire ignorer?
Pourquoi ne in'avez-vous pas ordonne bruler sans
1'ouvrir ce nianuscrit funeste, que j'ai cm pouvoir lire
sans y trouver de nouveaux sujets de douleur, et qui
m'apprit que depuis hint ans an rnoins, je n'etois plus le
premier objet de votre coeur, malgre toute 1'assurance
que vous ni'en aviez si souvent dounee V — He then goes
on naturally enough to ask what security he could have,
after this discovery, that she ever had loved him ; and
that she had not been also playing upon his affections
("tronipe ma tendresse") during the eight or ten other
years which he had believed to be so filled with love for
him. (OBuv., Vol. I., p. 25.)

Now, how can we possibly account for this but by
supposing, that she had made him believe her professed
affection for Mora was all a pretence1? But if so, what
did he think was the nature of her connexion with that
enthusiastic young Spaniard1? Assuredly he must have
been aware that Mora was in love with her. Then what
was her plan with respect to him1? I confess I am
driven, how reluctantly soever, to the painful conclusion,
that he lent himself to the plan of her inveigling the
Spaniard into a marriage, and deceived himself into a
belief that her heart was still his own. Mannontel's

D'ALEMBERT. 451

account is accurate enough in some particulars; but
the story of D'Alembert's going for the young man's
letters cannot be a fiction. It is an office no one could
have easily invented for a lover. Besides, the apparent
passion for Mora was known to all Mdlle. de 1'Espinasse's
circle. She never could conceal such a feeling when it
took possession of her. That passion was not an affair
of a few weeks or months; it lasted considerably more
than six years ; for in April, 1768, we find D'Alembert
introducing him to Voltaire as his dear friend, and
the young man's death was in May, 1774. (Corr. avec
Voltaire, (Euv. XVL, 49.)

The fancy of this susceptible lady for Guibert was
equally well known. D'Alembert saw these demonstra-
tions of love as well as every one else ; but she continued
to make him believe that they were not real indications
of passion. This he tells us plainly himself. It remains
to explain what he took them for; and no one can easily
suppose that he was not made to believe they were con-
nected with a plan of obtaining for her a settlement in
life by marriage. The certificate which he obtained
from Lorry to make Mora revisit Paris is of itself a proof
that such was the project, and that to this project
D'Alembert was privy.

The character of Mdlle. de 1'Espinasse has been drawn
by several masters, and by all in very favourable colours.
Marmontel and D'Alembert himself have both laboured
the portrait exceedingly ; and if the passion of the latter
may make the truth of the resemblance doubtful, at least
to the pencil of the former, both more skilful and more
faithful, we must give credit. — " Cette demoiselle etoit un
etonnant compose de bienseance, de raison, de sagesse,

2 G2

452 D'ALEMBERT.

avec la tete la plus vive, Tame la plus ardentc, riinagma-
tion la plus inflammable, qui ait existe depuis Sappho.
Le feu qui circuloit dans ses veines et dans ses nerfs, et
qui donnoit a son esprit tant d'activite et de cliarme, 1'a
consomme'e avant le tems. Sa partie dans ces dines
(at Mdnie. Geoffrin's, where she was the only woman pre-
sent except the hostess,) etoit d'un interet inexprimable.
Continuel objet d'attraction, soit qu'elle ecoutat, soit
qu'elle parlat elle-nieme, et personne ne parloit mieux ;
sans coquetterie, elle inspiroit I'innocent desir de lui
plaire; sans pruderie, elle fesoit sentir a la liberte des
propos jusqu'ou elle pouvoit aller sans inquieter la pu-
deur et sans effleurer la deceuce. Son talent de jeter en
arant la pensee et de la donncr a dcbattre a des homuies
de cette classe (les Turgot, les Coudillac, les D'Alem-
bert, aupres d'elle comme un simple et docile enfant,)
son talent de discuter elle-mcme, et comme eux avec
precision, quelquc fois avec eloquence ; son talent
d'amasser des nouvelles idees et de varier Tentretien,
toujours avec 1'aisance et la facilite d'une fee qui, d'un
coup de baguette change a son gre la scene de ses
enchantemens ; ce talent n'e'toit d'une femme vulgaire. Ce
n'etoit pas avec les niaiseries de la mode et de la vanite
que tous les jours durant quatre heures de conversation,
sans langueur et sans vide, elle savoit se rendre interes-
sante pour un cercle de bons esprits." (Marmoutel,
Vol. II.)

In the society of this attractive person, D'Alenibert's
evenings were all passed; and during the twelve years
that elapsed between her quarrel with Madame du Def-
fand and her decease, he lived more constantly, of course,
in her company, as he occupied the same lodgings. His

D'ALEMBERT. 453

mornings, after lie quitted his study, were generally
spent at Madame Geoffriii's; and the circle which he
met at both those houses was nearly the same, except
that Madame Geoffrin's was accessible to the better class
of statesmen, according to her maxim that the protection
of her favourites — the men of letters and of science — was
well worth purchasing at this price ; but for this use to
which her benevolence knew how to turn them, she
declared that after nine o'clock none but men of genius
should find her door open, as far as her own taste was
concerned.

The habits of French society, so entirely unlike our
own, assemble in very small numbers the same persons
almost every evening at the same houses. The master
or the mistress, generally the latter, hardly ever leaves
home at the hours consecrated to this refined and agree-
able intercourse, or only does so on stated nights, seldom
more than one in a week. It is not easy for those who
have never experienced the charms of this kind of society
to understand its merits. Far from becoming didl or
monotonous, in consequence of the sameness of the per-
sons who compose it, this very circumstance it is that
gives so much comfort and even enjoyment to the inter-
course. The intimacy of a family circle is kept up, and
the interest which each takes in the others becomes a
powerful incentive to bestowing mutual confidence, while
it gives a pleasurable feeling to such as have no families
of their own. There is, too, a variety always occurring,
which no family circle can possess. The knowledge of
each other's character, habits, pursuits, tastes, renders
the conversation easy and interesting. The same subjects
are continued from day to day. The kind of wit or

454 D'ALEMBERT.

humour of the circle is well known, and gives a zest to
trifles, or sallies of pleasantry, that would be little re-
lished by strangers. Add to which, that the familiarity
of all with one another, though giving all a considerable
interest in the welfare of each, stops short of inspiring so
great an interest as would too much excite the feelings;
and in this quasi family circle none of the anxiety is felt
which often becomes too painful in the real domestic
relations. The national character is, perhaps, better
suited to such habits than ours would be. Certain it
is that our neighbours consider us as having nothing
which can be, with any propriety of speech, called
society ; for those whose lives are spent in coteries, when
not occupied with business, regard with unmitigated
aversion the large parties which, on rare occasions, bring
together hundreds of their countrymen at some of our
fair country-women's houses, and would have joined a late
chief-justice in his description of the obstruction which
such assembled multitudes occasion of our streets, if his
lordship, passing through the outer door, had extended his
definition of a nuisance to the scenes which pass within the
walls of those fashionable and not inhospitable mansions.
All accounts agree in describing D'Alenibert as a most
agreeable and most acceptable member of those circles,
first at Madame du Deffand's, and afterwards at Made-
moiselle de 1'Espinasse's and Madame Geoffrin's. His wit
was very playful and easy, and it was without a particle
of gall, though not unaccompanied with traits of satire,
from which his writings are entirely free. He is described
as coming into society from his geometry like a boy
escaped from school ; and with the buoyant spirits which
he drew from the success of his morning's investigations,

D'ALEMBERT. 455

combined with the pleasure of his present relaxation —
a pure mind, free from all passions, satisfied with itself
— a gentle and equal spirit, ever true, ever simple and
natural, far removed from both pride and dissimulation,
— such is the picture drawn of him by the Marmontels,
the Grimms, and the Diderots, who knew him best. His
conversation was admitted to be delightful by the mem-
bers of the most delightful and most fastidious circle in
the world. His favourite maxim contributed to the
charm of his conversation; he held that men should be
most careful what they did, less careful about what they
wrote, and least careful about what they spoke — a maxim
to which he acted up in all respects himself. His in-
exhaustible memory — his lively unexpected sallies that
never went a hair's-breadth too far — his inimitable talent
of telling, and even of acting, a story — his constant vein
of liberal and enlightened, but sound, and therefore
tolerant philosophy, — are the themes of those who sur-
vived him, and found that the blank he had left could
not be supplied. That he possessed higher qualities
than these is certain, for he was the most kind and
charitable of men. Half his small income was given
away in beneficent acts as soon as it became greater
than his few wants and strict economy required. His
patronage was easily obtained for merit ; not easily, or
at all, by powerful solicitation. An instance, and a cele-
brated one, occurred of this difference. When Laplace
came to Paris as a young man, he brought letters of in-
troduction to him from persons of importance in his native
town ; but no notice being taken of these, he wrote him
a letter on the principles of mechanics. This produced
an immediate invitation to call upon the Secretary, who

456 D'ALEMBERT.

told him lie had no need of any introduction but his own
merits, and in a week obtained for him a professorship
in the Ecole Militaire.

We have seen the warmth of his attachment to the
object of Ins love. It remains to note the dreadful grief
in which he was plunged by her death. Marmontel,
whose tender friendship endeavoured to soothe his afflic-
tion, describes it as excessive : — " He seemed, in return-
ing home to his apartment in the Louvre, as if he was
burying himself in a tomb." But nothing better paints
his affectionate nature, and the depth of his sorrow, than
his own simple and touching expressions. Speaking, in
a letter to Diderot, of the loss he had sustained already,
and the impending one of Madame Geoffrin, he says, —
"Je passois toutes mes soirees chez l'amie quo j'avais
perdue, et toutes nies matinees avec celle qui me reste
encore. Je ne 1'ai plus et il n'y a plus pour moi, ni soir
ni matin." (Cor., GEuv., XIV. 250.) Madame Geoffrin was
then on her death-bed, having for some months been
given over. It was a great addition to his grief for
Mademoiselle de i'Espinasse, that he was prevented from
ever seeing the only person who could have offered him
any consolation ; but during the year that she lingered,
her doors were barred against him by the cruel fanaticism
of her daughter, whose name deserves to be recorded in
order that her memory may be rescued from its apparent
obscurity, and delivered over to the scorn of all good
men, all charitable Christians. Madame de la Ferte-
Imbaut thought fit to write him an insolent and intoler-
ant letter, filled with abuse, and announcing that she
took upon herself to deprive her dying parent of what
must have proved a great comfort — the society of the

D'ALEMBERT. 457

man she most esteemed. The ground taken by this
furious bigot was the known scepticism of the philoso-
pher's opinions, though every one is aware that he never
obtruded them on any society, and never gave to the
world a single line in which religion and its institutions
were treated with" disrespect.

In the deep grief with which these irreparable losses
struck him, his friends hastened to administer such con-
solation as their sympathy could afford. Among others,
Frederick II. wrote him several letters, which are superior
in point of feeling, and at least equal in ability, to any
other of his works ; and by that monarch's wise advice
he was guided, and with success ; for the only real relief
which he experienced was in his favourite pursuit, his
fast friend in good and in evil fortune, as Frederick
advised him, (CEuv. Vol. XIII. p. 267.) He plunged into
the depths of geometrical investigation, which he had too
long abandoned, and he found the most salutary effects
from this exertion. (CEuv. Vol. XVIII. p. 95.)*

The change which took place in D'Alembert's habits,
when he became a member of those circles to which we
have been referring, and passed in them no little portion
of his time and all his leisure, may be supposed to have
disinclined him towards his studious occupations, if it did
not unfit him for them. But this was not the case. lie

* It must be added as a sufficient reason for our regarding the
affair of Mdlle. de Espinasse in the light of a publicly avowed
matter, and not one only belonging to the immediate parties,
that D'Alembert himself printed the letter to Count Fuentes on
Mora's death, and also allowed Frederick's letters on Mdlle. de
1'Espinasse's death to be copied, circulated, and published. Frederick
was exceedingly offended with this; it produced a serious dryness,
which lasted some time. (Vol. XVIII. p. 143. 155.)

458 D'ALEMBERT.

had a great love of these pursuits, and a remarkable
facility in following them; and the principal altera-
tion which took place in his studies was, that he no
longer confined himself to the mathematics, but under-
took those other works of which mention has already
been made. When he was chosen to succeed Duclos, in
1772, as Secretary to the Academy, the further labour
devolved upon him of writing the Eloges of dead
members; and not content with this, he undertook to
give the Eloges of those who had died between 1700 and
1772, and had not been commemorated by his predeces-
sors. In three years he composed no fewer than seventy
such biographical sketches, which, with thirteen others of
his writing, fill six volumes of his works. Nor can we
avoid feeling great regret that he should have wasted so
much time and labour on a species of composition ex-
tremely little to be esteemed. For these Eloges are
almost always remarkable for omitting whatever truths
tell to the disadvantage of their subjects, so that they are
of little value as history; and they are so slight and
superficial as notices, that beyond giving dates and facts
they give nothing. D'Aleinbert's offer no exception to
this description; they do not record the history of the
learned men's Avorks of whose lives they profess to be
sketches, and only general sketches. Many of them,
indeed, relate to exceedingly obscure individuals, and the
most distinguished are treated of in a manner quite
unsatisfactory. The most elaborate is that of Boileau, in
the notes of which we find a great number of literary
anecdotes. The best, perhaps, is that of a man with
no pretensions to literature, Lord Mareschall (Keith)
because it contains a number of racy and characteristic

D'ALEMBERT. 459

traits of the worthy old politician. The taste and judg-
ment shewn in some is of a very equivocal character.
Thus Massillon is described with some reference to his
finer sermons, but very indifferent passages are selected
for illustrating his prodigious merits; and his funeral
sermons are plainly undervalued, without any exception
being made in favour of the most magnificent passage,
and the most successful that was perhaps ever delivered
from the pulpit, the opening of the sermon on Louis le
Grand's death. * Bossuet is plainly preferred to him;
and some passages are given as master-pieces that are
far exceeded by others in that great preacher's discourses.
The " article" on the Abbe Dubois is entertaining ; but,
as if to shew the incurable vices of the Eloge, a memoir
being inserted written by one who had access to know
the Abbe's history, D'Alembert admits his having sup-
pressed those portions which reflected discredit upon him.
It is necessary to add that the Eloges which D'Alembert
composed officially as Secretary were, according to the
custom of the Academy, read at the general or public
meetings, which are attended by all who can obtain
tickets of admission from the Academicians. At the
same meetings were read other pieces of a popular
description, as the 'Dialogue between Queen Christina
and Descartes in Elysium/ that between ' Philosophy and
Poetry,' and the ' Discourses on Poetry,' on ' Eloquence,'
and others, upon the annual distribution of the prizes.
That D'Alembert suffered himself to be seduced by the
comparatively poor and passing gratification of pleasing

* The body was lying in the church when Massillon began,
Dieu seul est grand, mes freres !"

460 D'ALEMBERT.

or amusing promiscuous audiences on those occasions,
cannot be doubted. The productions are of very ordi-
nary merit. The two dialogues just referred to contain
in their more solid portions nothing at all original or
felicitous ; and as jeux d'esprit, they may justly be said
to have little of either playfulness or wit. The one in
which Christina is a prolocutor, was delivered on the
reception of Gustavus III. as a visitor, and it contains
some singularly unmerited compliments""" to that worth-
less and profligate prince, nowise distinguished either
for their happy turn or the cautious procedure ever to be
used in noting the merits of sovereigns too young to
have shewn how far taking them on trust is safe. Another
jeu d'esprit, the ' Apology for Study,' is admitted among
the warmest of D'Alembert's admirers to be a signal
failure.

Another work of D'Alembert's, though not on a
scientific subject, falls not within the remarks now made,
his ' History of the Destruction of the Jesuits/ an im-
portant measure which had been finally accomplished by
the Edict of the 6th of August, 1762, after their com-
mercial speculations in Martinico had involved them in
bankruptcy even priorto the capture of the island ; and they
had lost important law-suits with the mercantile interest
in the Parliament of Paris. The Edict of 1762 was
found insufficient to prevent the Society's subtle intrigues ;
and it was followed by several others, which dispersed

* " Sa modestie, ou plutot, et ce qui vaut bien mieux encore., sa
simplicite, car la modestie est quclquefois hypocrite, et la sim-
plicite ne 1'est jamais." (IV. 82.) It would certainly have been
difficult to find a word less applicable than simjilicite to the subject
of this flattery.

D'ALEMBERT. 461

them and forbade them to come within ten leagues of the
capital. This work of D'Alembert, the ' History/ is only
remarkable for its calmness and impartiality. He gives
the amplest praise to the dispersed body, and allows
them to be alone, of all the monastic orders, distinguished
for their genius as well as learning, while of the others
the only ones not sunk in ignorance were the Mendicant
orders and the Benedictine ; the former of whom were
only scholastic writers, the latter literary compilers. lie
also shews that the Jansenists, the implacable enemies
of the Jesuits, were exposed to great censure, and had
acted like rigorous persecutors ; and he takes the sound
and rational course of maintaining that the destruction
of one order could only be defended on principles which
lead to the destruction of all other orders of monks,
and in every state. In other respects the merit of the
' History' is but moderate. There is nothing very happy
in the narrative, which, indeed, is unconnected, and has
the worst of historical faults, proceeding by way of allu-
sion more frequently than of plain and direct recital.
There is nothing very original or profound in the remarks.
There is nothing striking in the descriptions. The style
has the excellent qualities of all D'Alembert's writings,
clearness and simplicity, and this is the principal praise
to which the work is entitled.

His translation of select passages of Tacitus, executed
with great zeal, as might be expected from his exagge-
rated admiration of that classic, and the kind of delusion
respecting him under which he laboured, is certainly
much better than his critical opinion on the original.
But his ideas of a translator's duties are singularly
incorrect. He complains of the common run of trans-

462 D'ALEMBERT.

lators for being so " superstitiously attached to their
authors, that they fear to embellish them even in feeble
passages ;" and contends, by a ridiculous sophism, that as
we must often fall short of the originals, so we ought
to take compensation by surpassing them when we can.
He tells us that he sketched his translations with much
rapidity to avoid coldness, and afterwards corrected with
great care — a proceeding not perhaps much to be con-
demned; but, he adds, that he has occasionally taken
the liberty of altering the meaning when "the Latin
presented a puerile image or idea, and when Tacitus
appears to be below himself." (Ib. 26.) Thus he lends
Tacitus a little wit, a metaphor, indeed, in the celebrated
description of Tiberius, whose dislike alike of freedom
and of flattery made men's words difficult and slippery,
or perilous. " Augusta et lubrica oratio sub principe qui
libertatem nietuebat, adulationem oderat." (Ann. 11, 87.)
" Tant la servitude meme marchoit par une route etroite
et glissante, sous un prince qui detestoit la flatterie et
craignait la liberte." ((Euv. xiv. 167.) Can any one
doubt that this is a total perversion of the sense?
Tacitus does not say, nor could he with truth say, that
the one noble quality of the crafty but able tyrant, his
detestation of flattery, made all the actions of men
slippery and doubtful. He knew well that in every
other respect submissive obedience was their only care;
but the dislike of flattery only created some doubt when
they were to write or to speak. Accordingly, other
translators have preserved the sense of the original with-
out losing the fine and picturesque expression of " An-
gusta et lubrica." "Rien de plus etroit et de plus
glissant que 1'usage de la parole," says La Bletterie.

D'ALEMBERT. 463

" Aussi ne restoit-il a 1'eloquence qu'un sentier etroit et
bien glissant/' says another. I have dwelt upon this
passage because it is a special favourite of the author,
who gives four pages of commentary on his version. So
in the famous passage on Domitian, the highly wrought
diction and vivid imagery of Tacitus is not sufficient to
satisfy the translator. " Prsecipua rniseriarurn pars erat
videre et aspici ; cum suspiria subscriberentur ; cum deno-
tandis tot hominimi palloribus sufficeret ssevus ille vultus
et rubor quo se contra pudorem inuniebat." ('Vit. Ag.' c.
XLV.) " La fureur de Domitien etait plus cruelle que les
supplices ineme ; nos soupirs etoient comptes ; et le visage
du tyran, inflamme par le crime et inaccessible a la honte,
rendit plus touchante la paleur du tant de mourans."
(xiii. 267.) It is not too much to say that D'Aleinbert,
with all his admiration of Tacitus, thought he had
greatly improved upon him ; though while affirming that
his author had lost "nothing by the translation," he
candidly admits "that the original is at least as fine."
(Cor. Part. (Euv. xiv., 392."") It is, however, now ad-
mitted by all critics that a good translation of Tacitus
into any modern language is impossible. I remember
Dr. Parr once saying, in answer to a learned person who
asked, or rather took the liberty of asking, his opinion
which was the best translation of Tacitus, — "Sir, I

* Numberless examples of failures could easily be given; but I
have only selected a few to shew the consequences of his absurd
theory of translation. In the character of the Fenni (De Mor.
Germ.) "Fennis mira feritas, fceda paupertas," D'Alembert renders
this most tamely and most imperfectly, " tres-feroces et tres-
pauvres :" thus getting rid entirely of the sense of the Latin, (xiii.
233.)

464 D'ALEMBERT.

thought every one had long since admitted there can
be none."

Among D'Alembert's other writings of the inferior
kind, to which I hare been referring, must be reckoned
his ' General Reflections on Eloquence/ They are super-
ficial and inaccurate, though, like most of his literary
pieces, somewhat dogmatical with their shallowness. His
very definition of Eloquence is entirely faulty ; he calls
it the faculty of communicating to others the feelings
that fill our own minds ; according to which, however dull
or impotent these feelings may be, their impression being
truly conveyed, they produce all the effects of the highest
eloquence, and so every person may be eloquent, nay,
almost all may be equally eloquent. His reflections on
History are of no higher merit. Of his notions respect-
ing Poetry we have already spoken.

It remains to speak of his general treatise on the
' Elements of Philosophy.' It is one of his best literary
works, and certainly preferable to the one it approaches
nearest in the subject-matter, the Introductory Discourse
to the Encyclopaedia. It is exceedingly comprehensive;
it is rapid without being hurried or hasty; it is as
clearly written as possible; and it is accompanied with
illustrations judiciously given and very convenient for
the general reader. But though it be well entitled to
these commendations, it is not easy to follow Condorcet
in his eulogy of this piece as containing an important
" metaphysical discovery." He regards it as settling for
the first time the controversy "whether the laws of
motion belong to the class of contingent or of necessary
truths," and he considers D'Alembert as having first dis-
covered the demonstration that these laws are necessary.

D'ALEMBERT. 465

Now nothing can be more certain than that D'Alembert
does no such thing as prove this position. He only
shews, what never could be doubted, that the deductions
from certain assumed facts are necessary and not con-
tingent. Assuming the existence of matter, and also its
impenetrability, he treats the vis inertiee as demonstrated,
and also its corollary, the uniformity of motion once
begun and not affected by any external causes. But the
impenetrability of matter is a contingent truth as well
as its existence ; and there is nothing in the definition of
matter or of motion to make it impossible that a motion
once begun should cease at a time proportioned for
example to its quickness, or should be accelerated by
the very nature of the original impulse ; and so of the
equality of action and reaction. No doubt, if the vis
inertise be granted and the equality of action and re-
action, the composition of forces may be demonstrated,
and so may the proposition of equal areas in equal times,
and the principle of equilibrium first discovered by
D'Alembert. But these are only mathematical demon-
strations of truths deducible and issuing from contingent
truths. The propositions of geometry are wholly differ-
ent; they result necessarily from the definitions; they
are indeed involved in those definitions. Thus, if a
circle is defined as the curve described by the extremity
of a given straight line revolving round a fixed point, in
this definition there is really contained the proposition
that its length is proportional to the describing line's
length, and its surface to the square of that line. We
affirm in these two propositions only that if there be a
curve line such as to have all the lines equal, which are
drawn to it from a given point, that curve must have

2 H

466 D'ALEMBEET.

certain measure of its length and surface. "When we
affirm that a body moves in the diagonal when solicited
by two impulses along the two sides of a parallelogram,
we assume, not merely that there is a body and that
there is motion, but that the body has certain qualities
and that motion has certain laws, and these are facts
which exist, not mere suppositions which we make.
D'Alembert has only the merit, and a great one it is,
of having, first in his ' Dynainique ' and afterwards in
his 'Elemens/ reduced the whole laws of motion and
equilibrium to the fewest and simplest possible funda-
mental principles, and therefore generalized those prin-
ciples.

All D'Alembert's writings have now passed under our
review : it remains to form a more general estimate of his
merits in the two capacities with a detailed view of
which we have been occupied, his merits as a man of
science and a man of letters. And certainly the differ-
ence is very wide betM'een his position in these two
different classes ; nor can I avoid marvelling, with Sir J.
Mackintosh, at the partiality which so far blinded Mr.
Stewart, as to make him consider him very eminent in both.

Among mathematicians he holds a high place indeed,
ranking on the very first line. Euler was perhaps a
more fertile analyst ; and he gave incomparably greater
contributions to the science, than either D'Alembert or
indeed any other man. Clairaut was excelled by none
in the profoundness of his researches, and the originality
of his methods, and he excelled all others in the marvel-
lous precocity of his genius as a geometrician. At the
same time, we can never forget that D'Alembert's dis-
covery of the dynamical theorem, and his most felicitous

D'ALEMBEET. 467

employment of it to arrange the whole of mechanical
science, exceeds anything accomplished by either of his
illustrious contemporaries in usefulness, indeed in origi-
nality ; while of a most important calculus he was, if not
the father, certainly the person who by applying it and
teaching its uses, almost changed the face of geometrical
and physical science. His investigation of the lunar
orbit, of the earth's figure, of the precession and the
nutation, would have entitled him to rank with Euler and
with Clairaut, and before Fontaine, had his ' Dynamique '
and his ' Partial Differences ' * never been given to the
world. On the latter subject, Euler and Fontaine in
some sort anticipated him; but taking the former dis-
covery into our account, and his application of the cal-
culus, we shall probably be justified in placing him the
first among the philosophers and geometricians who
succeeded Sir Isaac Newton.

It is equally clear that no comparisons can be insti-
tuted between him and that most illustrious of the
human race. The 'Principia' stands at an immeasurable
distance before the ' Dynamique ;' and the Calculus of
Partial Differences is but an improvement, though a very
great one, of the Method of Fluxions ; while the optical dis-
coveries of Newton have so little that can be compared
with them in the history we are contemplating, that
D'Alembert never could bring himself to take an interest
at all in experimental philosophy, much less to make
any discoveries for extending its bounds. Not only
was he without any pretension of this kind, but he was

* It is in his two works on Fluids, and in his Memoirs on the
Winds and Vibrating Chords, that we find this method, and rather
used or applied than explained.

o w o

~J ti -f

468 D'ALEMBERT.

incapacitated from such pursuits by his entire ignorance
of many branches of physical science, an ignorance almost
general with him on every thing which did not lend itself
to geometry or rather analysis, — an ignorance, be it
further observed, extremely discreditable to his under-
standing as a philosopher. Who can read without
astonishment his avowal that he knows nothing of che-
mistry ; an avowal borne out by some of his writings, and
by the Discourse to the 'Encyclopedie;' when we reflect
at the same time, that the greatest of geometricians and
analysists did not disdain to be as thoroughly acquainted
with the chemistry of his age, as any one who knew
nothing else 1 Indeed some of his most wonderful con-
jectures respecting the constituent parts of bodies, may be
referred as much to chemical as to optical science.*

D'Alembert's reason for undervaluing the truths of in-
ductive philosophy, must be allowed to have been wholly
unworthy of his genius for general speculation. He
thought meanly of the evidence on which it rests, and
could take no interest in any investigations other than
analytical. Can any one doubt that the evidence of
experiments is in the highest degree deserving of our
respectful attention, without refusing also his approval to
the whole of human conduct, which of necessity proceeds
upon the admission that contingent truths, both physical
and moral, rest on sufficient grounds for us safely to act
upon them in all the affairs of life1? Besides, D'Alembert
admitted, both in theory and by his own conduct, that
physical science was deserving of attention, when it could

* See especially the Queries to the ' Optics.' I remember Dr. Black
citing these wonderful productions with unbounded admiration.

D'ALEMBERT. 469

bear the application of the calculus. Then how was he
to be sure that any given branch of experimental philoso-
phy might not be susceptible of strictly mathematical
treatment, unless he made himself master of that branch"?
We find Cavendish applying geometrical and analytical
reasoning to such subjects as electricity. We have pro-
found Memoirs of my illustrious and lamented colleague,
M. Poisson, treating the same subject by the resources of
the calculus of which he was so great a master. Capil-
lary attraction received a similar consideration from
Laplace ; analysis has been successfully applied to
optical researches by mathematicians of our own times.
But I would not by any means be understood in these
observations to admit that purely inductive researches,
and those to which no geometrical reasoning can be
applied, are less worthy of a philosopher's regard than
those which easily ally themselves with the science of
necessary truth. No one who has studied the inimitable
experimental investigations of the second book of the
' Optics/ can hesitate in admitting that they are in every
way worthy of the immortal author of the ' Principia.'
The inquiries of Black and Cavendish excite the like
admiration. Nay, has not D'Alembert himself written
many profound optical papers 1 We have some of these
in the 1st, 5th, and 7th volumes of the ' Opuscules/ and
the 3rd volume is composed wholly of such. How then
could he tell beforehand that he might not find other
physical subjects capable of geometrical treatment?

It remains to note the inferiority in point of elegance
in D'Alembert's investigations to those of many other
geometricians. He was anxious only for the result ; and
the truth once discovered he was extremely indifferent to

470 D'ALEMBERT.

the neatness of the investigation, whether of the steps by
which the analysis had guided his course, or of the
synthetical deduction by which he demonstrated the
proposition. His own observation was, " Let us discover
truths, and there will never want those who can put them
in shape." Possibly his quickness (or facilite) the only
quality beside " some talent,"* which he modestly
claimed for himself, may have had its share in producing
this carelessness about any elaboration of his analysis.
He is generally clear enough in his explanations, always
logical in his reasonings, but we enjoy not the pleasure of
seeing the truth unfolded by the most striking methods,
or traced in its most surprising relations and connected by
remarkable analogies with kindred matters.

If, from contemplating the eminent merits of this
illustrious geometrician, we turn to regard him in his
literary capacity, there is, unquestionably, a signal falling
off. He cannot be said here to occupy even a second
place. It is to be observed, that his entering upon
the belles-lettres, and, indeed, upon moral and his-
torical subjects also, was a deviation from his original,
and, as it were, his appointed course; nor ought the
failures of great men ever to be visited with censure, but
under the influence of this candid and just consideration.
The accidental relations of society first seduced him
from geometry, and the appointment of Secretary to the
Academy completed the desertion of his mistress, lead-
ino; him to indulge in the meretricious course of deliver-

o o

* " II a apporte dans 1'etudc de la haute geometric, quelque talent
et beaucoup de facilite ; ce qui lui a fait un assez grand nom de
tres-bonne heure." Portrait par lui-ineme. (CEuv. i. xliv.)

D'ALEMBEET. 471

ing popular essays to promiscuous assemblies on great
occasions of academical display. To the task of hand-
ling literary subjects, too, he came with a most imperfect
preparation. He had no depth at all of learning; his
knowledge of Latin was respectable, not extensive or
profound; of Greek very far from considerable, indeed
hardly competent; and of the principles of criticism he
was imperfectly master. In truth nothing could be more
alien to his natural and amiable diffidence than the
position which he assumed, without any title whatever,
of dictating ex, cathedra his many crude opinions and
hasty and superficial comments on literary topics. His
taste, accordingly, as a critic, was, without being posi-
tively vicious, certainly far from very correct. He
appears to have preferred Bossuet to Massillon ; but in
this he agrees with probably the majority of his country-
men. He is far from placing Corneille on the same level
to which his powerful genius has by general consent
elevated him ; and his pleasure was great when he found
the idol of his worship, Voltaire, joining in repeated
attempts to decry that illustrious author. Even Racine
pleases him but little. The versification he thinks a model,
but the dramatic effect small. 'Athalie' is a "Tragedie de
college" without action, without interest. He compares
Racine, Boileau, and Voltaire, together thus; Boileau
makes us think and feel what labour the verse has cost :
Racine makes us think without feeling it: Voltaire
makes us neither think it nor feel it ; and to him he gives
the decided preference. (Cor. de Volt., (Euv. xvi. 106.)
Indeed, Voltaire was in all things his idol. No one can
read any of his literary works and not be convinced
that he regarded that extraordinary man as standing at

472 D'ALEMBERT.

the head of all writers, ancient and modern, upon literary
subjects, as well as of all poets. The first impression
made upon him was, in all probability, by Voltaire's
dramatic works. His other poems confirmed and ex-
tended the influence thus acquired over his mind; and
the sceptical opinions and satirical spirit of his prose
writings completed the enchantment, leaving him no
power of supposing either that the god of his idolatry
could ever err, or that anything was beyond his reach —
insomuch that we actually find him infinitely flattered "par
le suffrage accorde a Tarticle ' Geometric,' " and hoping
that Voltaire would be equally pleased with the articles on
Forces and Gravitation, and begging him to read that on
the Figure of the Earth, the merit of which consists in his
correcting Clairaut's hypothesis, and on this correction
Voltaire was utterly incapable of offering an opinion.
The article on Gravitation consists of four sections, three
of which are full of calculus, and so unintelligible to
Voltaire that it seemed like a mockery to mention them.
(Cor. de Volt., (Euv., xv., 41.)

The admiration which he expresses for Tasso is cer-
tainly quite legitimate. But who can allow him to
single the 'Gerusalemme' out of all ancient and modern
epics, as the "only one which we can read from begin-
ning to end with pleasure and interest""? (CEuv. iv., 116.)
He had just pronounced, dogmatically, the somewhat
astounding dictum, that no one can read Virgil or Homer
through without being weary of the task. When he
singles out Tasso, indeed, he makes him the solitary
exception "among dead poets;" but this qualification is
manifestly introduced on behalf of the 'Henriade/ the
author of which was still alive.

D'ALEMBEKT. 473

It is another proof of defective taste that he admires
Tacitus beyond all the writers of antiquity, which critics
of a much less severe taste than D'Alembert have not
been tasteless enough to do. "Prejuge de traducteur a
part (says he) comme il est sans comparaison le plus
grand historien de 1'antiquite, il est aussi celui dont il y a
la plus a recueiller." He goes on to speak of the "various
kinds of beauty of which this incomparable writer gives
the model," and after mentioning "the energy of his
descriptions of men, and the pathos of his narrative of
events," ends with this astounding assertion, "qu'il
possede dans un si haut degre la veritable eloquence, le
talent de dire sirnplement de grandes choses." (CEuv. vii.,
23.) I own that when I first read this passage I looked
to see if there might not have been omitted, by an error
of the press, the words "quoique" and "ne pas." It is
hardly credible that any one should have singled out
for commendation in Tacitus the very quality which he
notoriously possesses not. We find the same enthusiastic
admiration breaking out in his correspondence: "Quel
homme que ce Tacite!" (Cor. Part., (Euv. xiv., 332.) We
find him, too, consoling his afflictions in the writings of
that historian, whom he quotes in both the letters
addressed to Diderot on Mde. Geoffrin's death. (Cor.
Part., (Euv. xiv., 251, 261.)

But it is not only from defective taste and insufficient
knowledge, that D'Alembert's literary works fall so im-
measurably below his scientific. They are, in general,
extremely slight and superficial. His capacity of deep
thought nowhere appears. There is sufficient calmness
in the tone of the remarks; the discussions, when he
does discuss, are conducted with commendable imparti-

4 74 D'ALEMBERT.

ality, and the sentiments are generally those of a liberal,
enlightened and unprejudiced mind; but no force is put
forth; no difficulty is grappled with; nothing original
or striking appears in the views taken; nothing very
felicitous in the illustrations; nothing profound in the
argument. The "great facility," or quickness, which has
been already noted as characterizing his geometrical
capacity, had a fatal effect when he deviated into lighter
studies ; it lulled his attention asleep and prevented the
severe labour which great works in the belles-lettres
demand, as in every other department of human exertion.
All his writings are more or less slight and insufficient.
By far the most elaborate are, the Discourse in the
'Encyclopedic' and the 'Elements of Philosophy:' but
the first of these must be confessed to fail from the
radical defect of its fundamental principles ; and the
second, though superior, does not rise much above medi-
ocrity, nor leave on the mind any lively or lasting
impression.

Of the style in which all his writings are composed,
the great merit must at once be admitted. It has the
good quality of perfect clearness and of undeviating
simplicity. The taste which it displays is very far
superior to what could have been expected from so
warm an admirer of Tacitus. It seems as if his other
passion, that which devoted him to Voltaire, together
with his keen sense of ridicule, had effectually saved
him from the rock upon which the admirers of Tacitus
have so generally made shipwreck, and had purged his
diction of those false ornaments in which men of science
are so very apt to indulge when they quit their proper
haunts and descend into the low but perilous sphere of

D'ALEMBERT. 475

fine writing. Would that our physical, ay, and even
our geometrical writers, would always keep the great
example of D'Alembert before their eyes — not only when
they deviate from their proper orbit into general specu-
lation, but even when they are confined to their own
subjects! How much vile figure and inaccurate trope;
how many jumbled metaphors, disjointed declamations,
and misplaced quotations, should we then be spared!
His own character of his style is not at all too favour-
able, exemplifying what it describes : "Son style serre,
clair et precis, ordinairement facile, sans pretension
quoique chatie, quelquefois un peu sec, mais jamais de
mauvais gout, a plus d'energie que de chaleur, plus de
justesse que d'imagination, plus de noblesse que de

grace." *

We have now surveyed this illustrious life in its
various phases, and observed its merits reduced to their
real, but still magnificent dimensions. The events by
which it was diversified were necessarily few. The kind
of existence which D'Alembert enjoyed in his study and
the society of Paris has been described. From those
habits he seldom deviated, unless in so far as his whole
literary occupations may be considered to have been,
as indeed they were, a deviation. His intercourse with
Voltaire and with Frederick II. have been mentioned,
and they were nearly all that can be said to have varie-
gated the tranquil and uniform tenor of his way.

To Voltaire at Ferney he paid a visit in the autumn
of 1756; and it is plain from all Voltaire's letters that
this occurrence gave the greatest satisfaction to " the

* Portrait de lui-meuie. (CEuv. i., xlv.)

476 D'ALEMBERT.

Patriarch." The tenor of their correspondence was one
of uninterrupted confidence and mutual esteem. That
D'Alembert occasionally sacrificed somewhat of his
wonted independence to his profound admiration of his
friend, is certain. A mathematician like him should
never have given to Voltaire's ignorant and ridiculous
assertion that Leibnitz and Descartes were two charlatans
('Corr. Vol.' (Euv., XVI. 77) so tame a reply as merely
to say, that he had not read the collection of Leibnitz'
works, but readily believed it to be " un fatras ou il y a
bien peu de choses a apprendre" (Ib., 80). Though Vol-
taire may only have spoken of that great man's universality,
an objection which it little becomes either himself or his
correspondent to make, yet the first geometrician of the
age ought never to have left the subject without a pro-
test in favour of the founder of modern Analysis. There
is, however, something very touching in the ease with
which D'Alembert bowed before the errors and the
ignorance of genius, contrasted with the sturdiness of his
resistance to all the attempts of mere station or private
friendship to influence his opinion. Mdme. du Defiand,
then the patroness of his mistress and his own, in vain
besought him to slide in a word on behalf of her friend
the President Henault when the 'Discours' was preparing.
D'Alembert peremptorily refused to say one syllable of
that feeble and correct chronologer in the ' Discours/ and
would only, under the head of " Chronology," go so far as
to say he had written one of the three chronological
abridgments which were useful, but not the best of them
('(Euv./ XIV., 322. 343).

The correspondence with Frederick II. was continued
for thirty years, during three-and-twenty of which it was

D'ALEMBERT. 477

constant and regular. There is, perhaps, as much inde-
pendence in it on the philosopher's part as can well ba
expected in such circumstances; yet, certainly, a very
considerable portion of it is filled with constantly-
repeated expressions of respect, devotion, gratitude, and
of admiration for the royal qualities and station. The
letters written on any days that happened to be anni-
versaries of Frederick's victories, are always dated
" Anniversary of such and such a battle" (see XVIL,
16. 422, &c. &c.) A Frenchman, whose country was at
war with Frederick, expresses his joy at all that prince's
victories for six years, except only the one over the
French army at Rosbach (XVIL 7). A scornful opinion
of his intimate friend Diderot's works, and a report as
contemptuous of his personal qualities (XVIL 381.), is
only met with a prediction that, should his Majesty see
Diderot, he would judge more favourably of him than he
had done of his works (Ib., 383). Flattery, of course, is
lavished unsparingly. Not only is Frederick the Csesar
of the age, which he certainly might fairly be termed, but
he is raised to a divine rank, being commemorated as
both Mars and Apollo (Ib., 259. 389). Nor is any
clear expression of opinion given, when, after committing
the greatest public crime in modern times — the partition
of Poland — Frederick sent the philosopher his Polish
Medal, with the false motto, " Regno reintegrate." He
coolly takes it as a proof that the King had only taken
the step of re-entering into the possession of his own old
dominions (XVIL 329) ; and after the lapse of eight years
had left no possible doubt on the nature of the transac-
tion, we find him introducing Ruhlieres to the King as
desirous of writing Polish History under his patronage,

478 D'ALEMBEKT.

and expressing "his great admiration of his Majesty."
But the wary King-partitioner had the sense to see what
might follow from hence, and told his correspondent that
the event was too recent to be the fit subject of an
historical work (XVII. 235, 6. 240).

In the course of this correspondence D'Alembert went
twice to visit Frederick, — once in 1755, when the latter
was at Wesel on the Rhine; and again in 1763, when
he passed two months with the king at Potsdam. The
impression left on the royal mind by both these visits
was highly favourable to D'Alembert, as might well be
expected from his modest, ingenuous nature, and excel-
lent social habits.

Towards his sixty-fourth year his health — which had
never been robust, though his life was eminently tem-
perate, and always with an entire abstinence from
fermented liquors — began to decline. A feeble diges-
tion and constant difficulty of sleeping, had long been the
bane of his bodily comfort. To these ailments was now
added an affection of the bladder, which his medical
friends found to be beyond the reach of their art. He
suffered exceedingly for the last three years of his life,
and suffered with an exemplary calmness and even
cheerfulness ; at length, exhausted with pain, with irrita-
tion more than pain, with sleeplessness, with indigestion,
and its consequent weakness, he expired on the 29th of
October, 1783, in the sixty-seventh year of his age.
His most intimate friend, Diderot, died of dropsy nearly
about the same time. It is emphatically stated by
Grimm, whose intimacy with Diderot gave him means of
knowing the truth of the assertion, that D'Alembert
might have prolonged his life had he not refused submit-

D'ALEMBERT. 479

ting to a surgical operation. Be that as it may, during
his long and painful illness his mind appeared ex-
hausted like his body, but the mental feebleness was
only apparent; for the intervals of ease which he had
were occupied with mathematical investigations, and
with other subjects that interested him. His sick-
chamber was attended by numerous friends, among whom
he alone retained his gaiety, enlivening the conversa-
tion with sallies of pleasantry, in which their feelings
would hardly let them participate. Condorcet was,
he knew, to write his eloge for both Academies. A day
or two before his death he said to him, " Mon ami, vous
ferez rnon eloge dans les deux Academies, vous n'avez
pas de terns a perdre pour cette double besogne."
(' Grim. Corr/) Yet sometimes the torment he endured
overpowered him ; and his unostentatious dislike of all
pretence, all acting, prevented him from concealing his
agony. " Nature," said he, " has left a suffering being
the relief of complaining." And if he ever accused
himself of importunately afflicting his friends by his
sufferings, he would say that he could hardly " conceive
how so feeble a creature was able to endure so much
without dying." The certainty of his end approaching
was announced to him, and he received the tidings with
the most absolute tranquillity. His cheerfulness re-
mained unbroken ; and the last words he uttered were
to a friend who attended his death-bed : " Do you hear
how my chest is filling T M. Pouque, member of the
Institute, communicated this interesting anecdote to
La Harpe. The words were addressed to him.

The fame which D'Alembert for a long course of
years enjoyed all over Europe, was certainly greater than

480 D'ALEMBERT.

that of any other man of science in any age. Voltaire's
was little or nothing among philosophers ; and prodigi-
ous as it always was as a poet and a literary man, his
opinions upon religious subjects were so generally known,
indeed so openly declared, that his reputation, how
great soever, was to a certain degree of a party caste.
D'Alembert, the first philosopher of the age, was like-
wise advantageously known among literary men, and
estimated above his deserts in letters on account of his
admitted superiority in science. During his life, too,
though attached to the party of the Free Thinkers by
his habits in society, he had never made himself ob-
noxious by any public declaration of his opinions ; and
was indeed never known to be an infidel till his corres-
pondence with Voltaire was published after his death.
There was no name, therefore, which carried such weight
among men as his; and while he lived, though cabals
among politicians now and then interfered against him,
as when his academical pension was delayed, because, in
a letter opened at the post-office, he was found to have
called the Due de Choiseul, Voltaire's protege" rather
than his protector; yet in general, full justice was done
to his transcendent merits, and his name was every-
where amply honoured. A letter of Abbe Galliani may
be cited as shewing the estimation he was held in even
at Naples, where one might have expected merit, such as
his, would be slow to penetrate. The Abbe thus gaily
refers to a letter some one had brought from the great
man : — " Elle m'est si chere, me cause tant de plaisir,
me rend si glorieux, que c'est le meilleur present que
j'eusse pu recevoir de Paris. Si vous voyiez cornrne je
me rengorge endisant dans la coinpagnie, ' Je viens de

D'ALEMBERT. 481

recevoir une lettre de D'Alembert,' — que je tire a moitie

de ma poche, et que j'y laisse tomber sans cu faire la

lecture a cause d'un certain petit bricole qu'il y a

dedans, qui n'est pas pour tout le rnonde." I cannot

refrain from continuing the quotation of this truly witty

letter: — "Sur cela grands discours sur D'Alembert;

grand etonnement lorsque je dis qu'il est petit de taille,

pantomime et polisson au possible. On vent partout

que vous soyez grand comnie St. Christophe, et serieux

et barbeux comnie le MoTse de Michel Ange.* On

finit par me demander tons a la fois, ' L'avez vous-vu V

comme on demandait a Pape Panurge dans File des

Papegais et des Papefigues. Non, en verite, un Messi-

nois n'est pas si vain de sa lettre de la Madonne que

je le suis de la votre."— (CEuv., XIV., 399.) Such is

the style of one who himself stood at the very head of

the most witty and agreeable society of the times ; and

was more run after than any one of its members. And

it may safely be affirmed that no man in any circle of

Europe, would in those days (1773) have received a

letter from D'Alembert with different emotions, f

The neutrality which he had always during his life
maintained upon sacred subjects, was unfortunately con-

* I have corrected the manifest error of the books which make
it " Moine."

t This letter is one of the most charming for its light gay wit,
that is any where to be found; nothing can give a higher idea of
the Abbe's powers. The profound sense of it is on a par with the
wit. Thus: — "La crainte et 1'avidite sont et seront toujours les
causes de la cruaute:" which he proceeds to illustrate by a most
picturesque allusion to the conduct of the most cruel of men — the
Spaniards in America.

2 I

482 D'ALEMBERT.

fined to his published writings; and a few years only
elapsed after his decease, before the real state of his
religious opinions became well known by the publication
of Voltaire's correspondence and Frederick II.'s. The
fame which his reputation had hitherto enjoyed, caused
a great and general reaction among the zealous
friends of the Church, a reaction proportioned to the
tolerance previously exercised towards him, while men
were in the dark respecting his opinions. Nevertheless
nothing could be more unjust or unreflecting than the
indignation which thus broke forth. He had studiously
avoided all offence, whatever opportunity he might have
had of giving it. A very pious and even zealous writer,
who while giving vent to his strong feelings on religion,
has the candour to condemn the want of charity shown
towards D'Alembert on this subject, declaring that his infi-
delity was only " a fault God- ward, and which men had no
right to visit with censure, because he never published one
phrase of an irreligious tendency, while his writings con-
tain many warm expressions in favour of Christianity and
its professors." (Portrait de D'Alembert, (Euv. I. Ixvii.)
This testimony from a writer who cries out against the
' Encyclopedic,' as "an arsenal of irreligiou," dispenses
with the necessity of adding proofs to show how fairly
and even kindly D'Alembert ever talked of Christianity
in public. But another and a more reverend authority
may be cited to the same effect. M. Coetloquest, Bishop
of Limoges, said that he had never seen him, but that he
had always heard that his morals were above reproach ;
and his Lordship added, " Quant a ses ouvrages je les
lis souvent, et je n'y trouve que beaucoup d'esprit, de
grandes lumieres, et une bonne morale. S'il ne pense pas

D'ALEMBERT. 483

aussi bien qu'il ecrit, il faudroit le plaindre ; mats personue
n'est en droit d'interroger sa conscience." The detestation
which D'Aleinbert expresses, even in his private letters,
of the 'Systeme de la Nature/ (XLI. 371. XVII. 225,)
may be cited with the same view, as may the horror of
Atheism which he repeatedly testifies/"' And if in
reality he was a zealous adversary of religion, it has been
justly observed by La Harpe, that his hostility was far
more directed against its ministers than against the
system itself "*. Nor ought we even to express our con-
demnation of such conduct, or our regret for its injustice,
which view soever we may take of this subject, without
considering the extreme provocation which the French
philosophers of that age had to endure. Galas, old and
infirm, broken on the wheel as the murderer of his son, a
robust young man, in the presence of many of his family,
to prevent him from abjuring Catholicism ; La Barre con-
demned to have his tongue cut out, and dying in agony,
because while a boy he made faces at the procession of
the priests; a poor creature condemned to the galleys
and pillory, and dying of the fright the day after, for
having offered a bookseller a book which he knew no-
thing of and had received in payment of a debt : — these
were the scenes that passed before the eyes of D'Aleinbert
and Voltaire; nor let us, who have no such excuse for
hating the establishment, visit too severely the senti-
ments which scenes like these not unnaturally raised in

* See especially in the Hist, de la Destruction cles Jesuites, CEuv. v.
134. " Ce malheureux (1'athee) tres-coupable aux yeux de Dieu et de
raison, n'est nuisible qu'a lui-meme." It is clear from all he says
of the ' Systeme de la Nature,' that he never could believe Diderot
to be the author ; perhaps not even D'Holbach.

2 I 2

484 D'ALEMBERT.

generous miuds, how much soever we may be disposed to
admit that they carried their indignation beyond just
bounds when they confounded the use with the abuse,
and made religion answerable for the faults of its pro-
fessors.'"

* The character given of D'Alembert by Grimm, is certainly more
remarkable for its epigrammatic composition than its truth ; though
it may contain an approximation to some features. " Les personnes
qui ont vecu le plus avec D'Alembert le trouvaieut bon sans bonte,
sensible sans sensibilite, vain sans orgueil, chagrin sans tristesse;"
all this he explains by ascribing to him a combination of " roideur,
faiblesse, et activite.'' He allows his conversation to have been
admirable , that he could give attraction to the most dry and for-
bidding subjects, and gave his sallies with a grace and a readiness
not easily surpassed.

( 485 )

APPENDIX.

I.

Extracts from the 'Discourse of the Objects, Advantages, and
Pleasures of Science,' prefixed to the Works of the Useful
Knowledge Society.

[The doctrines here delivered are illustrated in the Lives
of D'Alembert and Banks.]

IT may easily be demonstrated, that there is an advantage
in learning, both for the usefulness and the pleasure of it.
There is something positively agreeable to all mena to all at
least whose nature is not most grovelling and base, in gaining
knowledge for its own sake. When you see anything for the
first time, you at once derive some gratification from the sight
being new; your attention is awakened, and you desire to
know more about it. If it is a piece of workmanship, as an
instrument, a machine of any kind, you wish to know how it
is made ; how it works ; and what use it is of. If it is an
animal, you desire to know where it conies from ; how it lives;
what are its dispositions, and, generally, its nature and habits.
You feel this desire, too, without at all considering that the
machine or the animal may ever be of the least use to your-
self practically; for, in all probability, you may never see
them again. But you have a curiosity to learn all about
them, because they are new and unknown. You accordingly
make inquiries ; you feel a gratification in getting answers to
your questions, that is, in receiving information, and in
knowing more — in being better informed than you were
before. If you happen again to see the same instrument or
animal, you find it agreeable to recollect having seen it for-
merly, and to think that you know something about it. If
you see another instrument or animal, in some respects like,
but differing in other particulars, you find it pleasing to
compare them together, and to note in what they agree, and
in what they differ. Now, all this kind of gratification is of
a pure and disinterested nature, and has no reference to any
of the common purposes of life; yet it is a pleasure — an

486 D'ALEMBEKT.

enjoyment. You are nothing the richer for it; you do not
gratify your palate or any other bodily appetite; and yet it
is so pleasing, that you would give something out of your
pocket to obtain it, and would forego some bodily enjoyment
for its sake. The pleasure derived from Science is exactly of
the like nature, or, rather, it is the very same. For what has
just been spoken of is, in fact, Science, which in its most
comprehensive sense only means Knowledge, and in its ordi-
nary sense means Knowledge reduced to a System; that is,
arranged in a regular order, so as to be conveniently taught,
easily remembered, and readily applied.

The practical uses of any science or branch of knowledge
are undoubtedly of the highest importance; and there is
hardly any man who may not gain some positive advantage
in his worldly wealth and comforts, by increasing his stock of
information. But there is also a pleasure in seeing the uses
to which knowledge may be applied, wholly independent of
the share we ourselves may have in those practical benefits.
It is pleasing to examine the nature of a new instrument, or
the habits of an unknown animal, without considering whether
or not they may ever be of use to ourselves or to any body.
It is another gratification to extend our inquiries, and find
that the instrument or animal is useful to man, even although
we have no chance ourselves of ever benefiting by the infor-
mation : as, to find that the natives of some distant country
employ the animal in travelling: — nay, though we have no
desire of benefiting by the knowledge ; as, for example, to
find that the instrument is useful in performing some dangerous
surgical operation. The mere gratification of curiosity; the
knowing more to-day than we knew yesterday; the under-
standing clearly what before seemed obscure and puzzling;
the contemplation of general truths, and the comparing to-
gether of different things — is an agreeable occupation of the
mind ; and, beside the present enjoyment, elevates the faculties
above low pursuits, purifies and refines the passions, and helps
our reason to assuage their violence.

Now, these are the practical advantages of learning ; but
the third benefit is, when rightly considered, just as practical

D'ALEMBERT. 487

as the other two — the pleasure derived from mere knowledge,,
without any view to our own bodily enjoyments : and this
applies to all classes, the idle as well as the industrious, if,
indeed, it be not peculiarly applicable to those who enjoy the
inestimable blessing of having time at their command. Every
man is by nature endowed with the power of gaining know-
ledge ; and the taste for it, the capacity to be pleased with it,
forms equally a part of the natural constitution of his mind.
It is his own fault, or the fault of his education, if he derives
no gratification from it. There is a satisfaction in knowing
what others know — in not being more ignorant than those we
live with : there is a satisfaction in knowing what others do
not know — in being more informed than they are. But this
is quite independent of the pure pleasure of knowledge — of
gratifying a curiosity implanted in us by Providence,- to lead
us towards the better understanding of the universe in which
our lot is cast, and the nature wherewithal we are clothed.
That every man is capable of being delighted with extending
his information upon matters of science, will be evident from
a few plain considerations.

Reflect how many parts of the reading, even of persons
ignorant of all sciences, refer to matters wholly unconnected
with any interest or advantage to be derived from the know-
ledge acquired. Every one is amused with reading a story :
a romance may divert some, and a fairy tale may entertain
others ; but no benefit beyond the amusement is derived from
this source : the imagination is gratified ; and we willingly
spend a good deal of time and a little money in this gratifica-
tion, rather than in resting after fatigue, or any other bodily
indulgence. So we read a newspaper, without any view to
the advantage we are to gain from learning the news, but
because it interests and amuses us to know what is passing.
One object, no doubt, is to become acquainted with matters
relating to the welfare of the country ; but we also read the
occurrences which do little or not at all regard the public
interests, and we take a pleasure in reading them. Accidents,
'adventures, anecdotes, crimes, and a variety of other things
amuse us, independent of the information respecting public
affairs, in which we feel interested as citizens of the state, or
as members of a particular body. It is of little importance to

488 D'ALEMBERT.

inquire how and why these things excite our attention, and
wherefore the reading about them is a pleasure : the fact is
certain ; and it proves clearly that there is a positive enjoy-
ment in knowing what we did not know before : and this

O

pleasure is greatly increased when the information is such as
excites our surprise, wonder, or admiration. Most persons
who take delight in reading tales of ghosts, which they know
to be false, and feel all the while to be silly in the extreme,
are merely gratified, or rather occupied, with the strong
emotions of horror excited by the momentary belief, for it
can only last an instant. Such reading is a degrading waste
of precious time, and has even a bad effect upon the feelings
and the judgment.* But true stories of horrid crimes, as
murders, and pitiable misfortunes, as shipwrecks, are not
much more instructive. It may be better to read these than
to sit yawning and idle — much better than to sit drinking or
gaming, which, when carried to the least excess, are crimes in
themselves, and the fruitful parents of many more. But this
is nearly as much as can be said for such vain and unprofit-
able reading. If it be a pleasure to gratify curiosity, to know
what we were ignorant of, to have our feelings of wonder
called forth, how pure a delight of this very kind does natural
science hold out to its students ! Recollect some of the
extraordinary discoveries of mechanical philosophy. How
wonderful are the laws that regulate the motions of fluids !
Is there anything in all the idle books of tales and horrors

•i O

more truly astonishing than the fact, that a few pounds of
water may, by mere pressure, without any machinery — by
merely being placed in a particular way, produce an irresistible
force ? What can be more strange, than that an ounce weight
should balance hundreds of pounds, by the intervention of a
few bars of thin iron? Observe the extraordinary truths
which optical science discloses. Can anything surprise us

* Children's Books have at all times been made upon the pernicious plan
of exciting wonder, generally horror, at whatever risk. The folly and
misery occasioned by this error it would be difficult to estimate. The time
may come when it will be felt and understood. At present the inveterate
habits of parents and nurses prevent children from benefiting by the excel-
lent lessons of Mrs. Barbauld and Miss Edgeworth.

D'ALEMBERT. 489

more, than to find that the colour of white is a mixture of all
others — that red, and blue, and green, and all the rest, merely
by being blended in certain proportions, form what we had
fancied rather to be no colour at all, than all colours together ?
Chemistry is not behind in its wonders. That the diamond
should be made of the same material with coal ; that water
should be chiefly composed of an inflammable substance ;
that acids should be, for the most part, formed of different
kinds of air, and that one of those acids, whose strength can
dissolve almost any of the metals, should consist of the self-
same ingredients with the common air we breathe ; that salts
should be of a metallic nature, and composed, in a great part,
of metals, fluid like quicksilver, but lighter than water, and
which, without any heating, take fire upon being exposed to
the air, and by burning form the substance so abounding in
saltpetre and in the ashes of burnt wood ; — these, surely, are
things to excite the wonder of any reflecting mind, nay, of
any one but little accustomed to reflect. And yet these are
trifling when compared to the prodigies which astronomy
opens to our view: the enormous masses of the heavenly
bodies ; their immense distances ; their countless numbers,
and their motions, whose swiftness mocks the uttermost
efforts of the imagination.

Akin to this pleasure of contemplating new and extra-
ordinary truths, is the gratification of a more learned curiosity,
by tracing resemblances and relations between things which,
to common apprehension, seem widely different. Mathe-
matical science, to thinking minds, affords this pleasure in a
high degree. It is agreeable to know that the three angles of
every triangle, whatever be its size, howsoever its sides may
be inclined to each other, are always of necessity, when taken
together, the same in amount : that any regular kind of figure
whatever, upon the one side of a right-angled triangle, is
equal to the two figures of the same kind upon the two other
sides, whatever be the size of the triangle : that the properties
of an oval curve are extremely similar to those of a curve,
which appears the least like it of any, consisting of two
branches of infinite extent, with their backs turned to each
other. To trace such unexpected resemblances is, indeed, the

490 D'ALEMBERT.

object of all philosophy ; and experimental science, in parti-
cular, is occupied with such investigations, giving us general
views, and enabling us to explain the appearances of nature,
that is, to show how one appearance is connected with another.
But we are now considering only the gratification derived
from learning these things.

It is surely a satisfaction, for instance, to know that the
same thing, or motion, or whatever it is, which causes the
sensation of heat, causes also fluidity, and expands bodies in
all directions ; that electricity, the light which is seen on the
back of a cat when slightly rubbed on a frosty evening, is the
very same matter with the lightning of the clouds; — that
plants breathe like ourselves, but differently by day and by
night; — that the air which burns in our lamps enables a
balloon to mount, and causes the globules of the dust of
plants to rise, float through the air, and continue their race ;—
in a word, is the immediate cause of vegetation. Nothing can
at first view appear less like, or less likely to be caused by the
same thing, than the processes of burning and of breathing,
the rust of metals and burning, an acid and rust, the influ-
ence of a plant on the air it grows in by night, and of an
animal on the same air at any time, nay, and of a body
burning in that air ; and yet all these are the same operation.
It is an undeniable fact, that the very same thing which makes
the fire burn, makes metals rust, forms acids, and enables
plants and animals to breathe; but these operations, so
unlike to common eyes, when examined by the light of
science, are the same, — the rusting of metals, the formation
of acids, the burning of inflammable bodies, the breathing of
animals, and the growth of plants by night. To know this is
a positive gratification. Is it not pleasing to find the same
substance in various situations extremely unlike each other ;
to meet with fixed air as the produce of burning, of breathing,
and of vegetation ; to find that it is the choke-damp of mines,
the bad air in the grotto at Naples, the cause of death in
neglected brewers' vats, and of the brisk and acid flavour of
Seltzer and other mineral springs ? Nothing can be less like
than the working of a vast steam-engine, of the old construc-
tion, and the crawling of a fly upon the window. Yet we

D'ALEMBERT. 491

find that these two operations are performed by the same
means, the weight of the atmosphere, and that a sea-horse
climbs the ice-hills by no other power. Can anything be
more strange to contemplate ? Is there in all the fairy-tales
that ever were fancied anything more calculated to arrest the
attention, and to occupy and gratify the mind, than this most
unexpected resemblance between things so unlike, to the
eyes of ordinary beholders ? What more pleasing occupation
than, to see uncovered and bared before our eyes the very
instrument and the process by which Nature works ? Then
we raise our views to the structure of the heavens ; and are
again gratified with tracing accurate but most unexpected
resemblances. Is it not in the highest degree interesting to
find, that the power which keeps this earth in its shape, and
in its path, wheeling upon its axis and round the sun, extends
over all the other worlds that compose the universe, and gives
to each its proper place and motion ; that this same power
keeps the moon in her path round our earth, and our earth
in its path round the sun, and each planet in its path ; that
the same power causes the tides upon our globe, and the pecu-
liar form of the globe itself ; and that, after all, it is the same
power which makes a stone fall to the ground \ To learn these
things, and to reflect upon them, occupies the faculties, fills
the mind, and produces certain as well as pure gratification.
But if the knowledge of the doctrines unfolded by science
is pleasing, so is the being able to trace the steps by which
those doctrines are investigated, and their truth demonstrated:
indeed, you cannot be said, in any sense of the word, to have
learnt them, or to know them, if you have not so studied them
as to perceive how they are proved. Without this, you never
can expect to remember them long, or to understand them
accurately; and that would of itself be reason enough for
examining closely the grounds they rest on. But there is the
highest gratification of all, in being able to see distinctly those
grounds, so as to be satisfied that a belief in the doctrines is
well founded. Hence to follow a demonstration of a grand
mathematical truth — to perceive how clearly and how inevit-
ably one step succeeds another, and how the whole steps lead
to the conclusion — to observe how certainly and unerringly
the reasoning goes on from things perfectly self-evident, and

492 D'ALEMBERT.

by the smallest addition at each step, every one being as
easily taken after the one before as the first step of all was,
and yet the result being something not only far from self-
evident, but so general and strange, that you can hardly
believe it to be true, and are only convinced of it by going
over the whole reasoning — this operation of the understand-
ing, to those who so exercise themselves, always affords the
highest delight. The contemplation of experimental inquiries,
and the examination of reasoning founded upon the facts
which our experiments and observations disclose, is another
fruitful source of enjoyment, and no other means can be de-
vised for either imprinting the results upon our memory, or
enabling us really to enjoy the whole pleasures of science.

One of the most delightful treats which science affords us
is the knowledge of the extraordinary powers with which the
human mind is endowed. No man, until he has studied
philosophy, can have a just idea of the great things for which
Providence has fitted his understanding — the extraordinary
disproportion which there is between his natural strength,
and the powers of his mind and the force he derives from
them. When we survey the marvellous truths of astronomy,
we are first of all lost in the feeling of immense space, and of
the comparative insignificance of this globe and its inhabitants.
But there soon arises a sense of gratification and of new
wonder at perceiving how so insignificant a creature has been
able to reach such a knowledge of the unbounded system of
the universe — to penetrate, as it were, through all space, and
become familiar with the laws of nature at distances so enor-
mous as baffle our imagination — to be able to say, not merely
that the sun has 329,630 times the quantity of matter which
our globe has, Jupiter 308^, and Saturn 93^ times; but that
a pound of lead weighs at the sun 22 Ibs. 15 ozs. 16 dwts.
8 grs. and f of a grain — at Jupiter 2 Ibs. 1 oz. 19 dwts.
1 gr. f % — and at Saturn 1 Ib. 3 ozs. 8 dwts. 20 grs. ^ part of
a grain ! And what is far more wonderful, to discover the
laws by which the whole of this vast system is held together
and maintained through countless ages in perfect security and
order. It is surely no mean reward of our labour to become
acquainted with the prodigious genius of those who have

D'ALEMBEHT. 493

almost exalted the nature of man above its destined sphere,
when, admitted to a fellowship with these loftier minds, we
discover how it comes to pass that, by universal consent, they
hold a station apart, rising over all the great teachers of
mankind, and spoken of reverently, as if Newton and Laplace
were not the names of mortal men.

The highest of all our gratifications in the contemplations
of science remains : we are raised by them to an understand-
ing of the infinite wisdom and goodness which the Creator-
has displayed in his works. Not a step can we take in any
direction without perceiving the most extraordinary traces of
design ; and the skill everywhere conspicuous is calculated, in
so vast a proportion of instances, to promote the happiness of
living creatures, and especially of our own kind, that we can
feel no hesitation in concluding that, if we knew the whole
scheme of Providence, every part would be found in harmony
with a plan of absolute benevolence. Independently, how-
ever, of this most consoling inference, the delight is inex-
pressible of being able to follow, as it were, with our eyes,
the marvellous works of the Great Architect of Nature — to
trace the unbounded power and exquisite skill which are
exhibited in the most minute, as well as the mightiest parts
of his system. The pleasure derived from this study is
unceasing, and so various, that it never tires the appetite.
But it is unlike the low gratifications of sense in another
respect : while those hurt the health, debase the understand-
ing, and corrupt the feelings, this elevates and refines our
nature, teaching us to look upon all earthly objects as insigni-
ficant and below our notice, except the pursuit of knowledge
and the cultivation of virtue; and giving a dignity and
importance to the enjoyment of life, which the frivolous and
the grovelling cannot even comprehend.

Extracts from the Preliminary Discourse to the ' Political
Philosophy,' published by the Useful Knowledge Society.

It is obvious that of all the sciences which form the subject
of human study, none are calculated to afford greater pleasure,
and few so great to the student, as the important one of which

494 D'ALEMBERT.

we have just been describing the nature and the subdivisions.
In common with the different branches of Natural Philo-
sophy, it possesses all the interest derived from the contem-
plation of important truths, the first and the purest of the
pleasures derived from any department of science. There is
a positive pleasure in that exercise of the mental faculties
which the investigation of mathematical and physical truth
affords. The contemplation of mathematical and physical
truths is, in itself, always pleasing and wholesome to the
mind. There is a real pleasure in tracing the relations between
figures and between substances, the resemblances unexpect-
edly found to exist among those which seem to differ, the
precise differences found to exist between one figure and
another, or one body and another. Thus, to find that the
sum of the angles of all triangles, be their size or their form
what it may, is uniformly the same, or that all circles, from
the sun down to a watch dial, are to each other in one fixed
proportion, as the squares of their diameters, is a matter of
pleasing contemplation which we are glad to learn and to re-
member from the very constitution of our minds. So there
is a great, even an exquisite pleasure in learning the compo-
sition of bodies : in knowing, for instance, that water, once
believed to be a simple element, is composed of two sub-
stances, the more considerable of which makes, when united
with heat in a certain form, the air we burn and the air we
breathe; that rust is the combination of this last substance
with metals; that flame is supported by it; that respiration
is performed by means of it; that rusting, breathing, and
burning, are all processes of the same kind; that two of the
alkaline salts are themselves rusts of metals, one of these
metals being lighter than water, burning spontaneously when
exposed to the air, without any heat, and forming the salt by
its combination. To know these things, and to contemplate
such relations between bodies or operations seemingly so
unlike, is in a high degree delightful, even if no practical use
could be made of such knowledge. So the sublime truths of
astronomy afford extreme gratification to the student. To
find that the planets and the comets which wheel round the
sun with a swiftness immensely greater than that of a cannon-

D'ALEMBERT. 495

ball, are retained in their vast orbits by the same power which
causes a stone to fall to the ground; that this power, with
their various motions, moulds those bodies into the forms
they have assumed; that their motions and the arrangement
of their paths cause their mutual action to operate in such a
manner, as to make their courses constantly vary, but also to
prevent them from ever deviating beyond a certain point, and
that the deviation being governed by fixed rules, never can
exceed in any direction a certain amount, so as to preserve
the perpetual duration of the system; — such truths as these
transport the mind with amazement, and fill it with a pure
and unwearying delight. This is the first and most legitimate
pleasure of philosophy. As much and the like pleasure is
afforded by contemplating the truths of Moral Science. To
trace the connexion of the mental faculties with each other;
to mark how they are strengthened or enfeebled; to observe
their variety or resemblance in different individuals ; to ascer-
tain their influence on the bodily functions, and the influence
of the body upon them; to compare the human with the
brute mind; to pursue the various forms of animal instinct;
to examine the limits of instinct and reason in all tribes; —
these are the sources of as pleasing contemplation as any
which the truths of abstract or of physical science can bestow;
from these contemplations we reap a gratification unalloyed
with any pain, and removed far above all risk of the satiety
and disgust to which the grosser indulgences of sense are
subject. But the study of Political Science is equally fertile
in the materials of pleasing contemplation. The examination
of those principles which bind men together in communities,
and enable them to exercise their whole mental powers in
the most effectual and worthy manner ; the knowledge of the
means by which their happiness can be best secured and
their virtues most promoted ; the examination of the various
forms in which the social system is found to exist ; the
tracing all the modifications which the general principles of
ethics and of polity undergo in every variety of circumstances,
both physical and moral ; the discovery of resemblances in
cases where nothing but contrasts might be expected; the
observation of the effects produced by the diversities of poli-

496 D'ALEMBERT.

tical systems ; the following of schemes of polity from their
most rude beginnings to their greatest perfection, and pur-
suing the gradual development of some master-principle
through all the stages of its progress — these are studies which
would interest a rational being, even if he could never draw
from them any practical inference for the government of his
own conduct, or the improvement of the society he belonged
to — nay, even if he belonged to another species and was
merely surveying the history and the state of human society
as a curious observer, in like manner as we study the works
of the bee, the beaver, and the ant. How prodigiously does
the interest of such contemplations rise when it is the politi-
cal habits of our own species that we are examining, and
when, beside the sympathy naturally felt in the fortunes of
our fellow creatures of other countries, at every step of our
inquiry we enjoy the satisfaction of comparing their institu-
tions with our own, of marking how far they depart from the
same model, and of tracing the consequences of the variety
upon the happiness of millions of beings like ourselves ! How
analogous is this gratification to the kindred pleasure derived
from Comparative Anatomy, which enables us to mark the
resemblances and the differences in structure and in functions
between the frame of other animals and our own !

From the contemplation of political truths our minds rise
naturally, and by a process also of legitimate reasoning like
that which discovers those truths, towards the great Creator
of the universe, the source of all that we have been surveying
by the light of science, — the Almighty Being who made the
heavens and the earth, and sustains the frame of the world by
the word of His power. But he also created the mind of
man, — bestowed upon him a thinking, a reasoning, and a
feeling nature, — placed him in a universe of wonders, — en-
dowed him with faculties to comprehend them, and to rise by
his meditation to a knowledge of their Great First Cause.
The Moral world, then, affords additional evidence of the
creating and preserving power, and its contemplations also
raise the mind to a communion with its Maker. Shall any
doubt be entertained that the like pleasing and useful conse-
quences result from a study of Man in his political capacity,

D'ALEMBEET. 497

and a contemplation of the structure and functions of the
Political world ? The nice adaptation of our species for the
social state; the increase of our powers, as well as the multi-
plication of our comforts and our enjoyments, by union of
purpose and action; the subserviency of the laws governing
the nature and motions of the material world to the uses of
man in his social position; the tendency of his mental facul-
ties and moral feelings to further the progress of social im-
provement; the predisposition of political combinations, even
in unfavourable circumstances, to produce good, and the
inherent powers by which evil is avoided, compensated, or
repaired; the singular laws, partly physical and partly moral,
by which the numbers of mankind are maintained, and the
balance of the sexes preserved with unerring certainty; — these
form only a portion of the marvels to which the eyes of the
political observer are pointed, and by which his attention
is arrested; for there is hardly any one political arrange-
ment which by its structure and functions does not shed a
light on the capacities of human nature, and illustrate the
power and the wonders of the Providence to which man looks
as his Maker and Preserver. Such contemplations, connected
with all the branches of science, and only neglected by the
superficial or the perverted, are at once the reward of philo-
sophic labour, the source of true devotion, the guide of wise
and virtuous conduct. They are the true end of all our
knowledge, and they give to each portion of it a double
value and a higher relish.

The last — but in the view of many, probably most men,
the most important — advantage derived from the sciences, is
their practical adaptation to the uses of life. It is not cor-
rect— it is the very reverse of the truth — to represent this as
the only real, and, as it were, tangible profit derived from
scientific discoveries or philosophical pursuits in general.
There cannot be a greater oversight or greater confusion of
ideas than that in which such a notion has its origin. It is
nearly akin to the fallacy which represents profitable or pro-
ductive labour as that kind of labour alone by which some
substantial or material thing is produced or fashioned. The
labour which of all others most benefits a community, the

2 K

498 D'ALEMBEKT.

superior order of labour which governs, defends, and im-
proves a state, is by this fallacy excluded from the title of
productive, merely because, instead of bestowing additional
value on one mass or parcel of a nation's capital, it gives
additional value to the whole of its property, and gives it
that quality of security without which all other value would
be worthless. So they who deny the importance of mere
scientific contemplation, and exclude from the uses of science
the pure and real pleasure of discovering, and of learning,
and of surveying its truths, forget how many of the enjoy-
ments derived from what are called the practical applications
of the sciences, resolve themselves into gratifications of a
merely contemplative kind. Thus, the steam engine is con-
fessed to be the most useful application of machinery and
of chemistry to the arts. Would it not be so if steam navi-
gation were its only result, and if no one used a steam boat
but for excursions of curiositv or of amusement ? Would it

j

not be so if steam engines had never been used but in the
fine arts ? So a microscope is a useful practical application
of optical science as well as a telescope — and a telescope
would be so, although it were only used in examining distant
views for our amusement, or in showing us the real figures
of the planets, and were of no use in navigation or in war.
The mere pleasure, then, of tracing relations, and of con-
templating general laws in the material, the moral, and the
political world, is the direct and legitimate value of science ;
and all scientific truths are important for this reason, whether
thej- ever lend any aid to the common arts of life or no. In
like manner the mental gratification afforded by the scientific
contemplations of Natural Religion are of great value, inde-
pendent of their much higher virtue in mending the heart
and improving the life, towards which important object,
indeed, all the contemplations of science more or less directly
tend, and in this higher sense all the pleasures of science are
justly considered as Practical Uses.

D'ALEMBERT. 499

II.

NOTE ON D^ALEMBERT'S PRINCIPLE.

Professor Playfair ('Ed. Rev/ xi., 253) has by no means
been happy in his enunciation of the Principle. " If the
motions which the particles of a moving or a system of mov-
ing bodies have at any instant be resolved each into two,
one of which is the motion which the particle had in the pre-
ceding instant, then the sum of all these third motions must
be such that they are in equilibrium with one another."

The following are the observations referred to in p. 406, note.

The great utility of this principle proceeds from the uni-
versality of its operation, and from its supplying the place of
the detached artifices and ingenious assumptions by which
dynamical problems had hitherto been treated, by a rule
directly applicable to the circumstances of the motion of one
or more bodies whose motions were any other than those
immediately proceeding from the direct and unfettered action
of the motive force.

The principle applies equally to the most elementary and the
most difficult problems — to the motion of a body down an
inclined plane — the vibrations of a simple pendulum — or to
the theory of the radiation of heat — the vibrations of a
chord : two subjects previously of insuperable difficulty, to
which the illustrious author applied his new method, and
which became remarkable in his hands, not only for the
solutions which he obtained, but also for the manner
of them — for it was his singular good fortune, by a further
invention, to overcome the analytical difficulties into which
the fecundity of his dynamical principle had led him.

The great utility of this principle will not appear from the
comparison of the solutions of any one problem obtained by
its means, with the detached artifices previously employed;
these were all private paths to one solution, whilst that is a
high road to all. The solution of every problem is obtained
from an equation involving some principle to which the
motions of the system are subject — the advantage of D'Alem-

2 K2

500 D'ALEMBERT.

bert's step lay in this, that it was the same principle which
he applied to each particular case.

Note to p. 406, line 14, by the author mentioned p. 406, note.

Since these last forces mutually destroy each other, and
that the forces actually impressed were compounded of them
and of those (usually called effective) which act in the direc-
tion the bodies really move in, so that the force originally
applied (usually called the impressed force) is the result of
these two forces, it follows that the effective forces would, if
they acted in the contrary direction, exactly balance the
impressed forces. Problems of dynamics are thus reduced
to a general equation of equilibrium and become statical.

III.

That Euler, in the Memoir published in 1734, solved an
equation of Partial Differences is quite incontestable, though
he laid down no general method; which, indeed, D'Alembert
himself never did, nor any geometrician before the publica-
tion of Euler's third vol. of the * Institutions of the Integral
and Differential Calculus.' The problem, as given in the
' Mem. Acad. Petersb.3 vol. vii., was this ; We have the equa-
tion d ~ = = P d x + Q, d a, z being a function of x and «; and
the problem is to find the most general value of P and Q,
which will satisfy the equation. Q, = = F~+PR, F being a
function of «, and R a function of a and x, Euler seeks for
the factor which will make d x + R d a integrable. Call
this factor S, and make S d x + S R d a = d T, and make

I F d a --log. B.
He finds for the values required

P = BS/':T,Q = ^? + BRS/=T

and from thence he deduces

rl B

d z = B S (d x + R d a) f ' : T +

~

D

5and

XJ

consequently £ = B/ : T.

D'ALEMBERT. 501

It is thus clear, that Euler had, in or before 1734, integrated
an equation of Partial Differences; and it must further be
remarked, that D'Alembert, in his paper on the Winds, the
first application of the calculus, quotes Euler's paper of 1734.
D'Alembert always differed with Euler respecting the extent
to which this calculus can be applied, holding, contrary to
Euler's opinion, that it does not include irregular and dis-
continuous arbitrary functions*.

IV.

The Vitriere's house, in which D'Alembert was brought
up and lived afterwards for so many years, can no longer be
ascertained. I have examined this matter with some care in
the street in which it stood, Rue Michel-le-Comte. That
street is very narrow, in no place above eighteen or nineteen
feet wide, and the houses on both sides are lofty. D'Alem-
bert, therefore, did not exaggerate when, in his letter to
Voltaire, he said he could only see a yard or two of the sky
from his room. The street is near the Rue St. Martin, at
some distance north of the H6tel-de-Ville. The church of
St. Jean-le-Rond, at the gate of which he was exposed, and
from which he took his name, stood near the cathedral of
Notre Dame, and was pulled down in 1748. It was a bap-
tistery of Notre Dame, near the Foundling Hospital, and
touched the Cathedral Church. Of the Vitriere's house I
have inquired everywhere, not only in the Rue Michel-le-
Comte, but at the Prefecture (H6tel-de-Ville), and among
my brethren of the Institute; I can discover no traces of it.
D'Alembert's Address given on his admission to the Academy
in 174], only mentions the street without giving any number.

* Cousin has mentioned the anticipation of Euler. ' Astronomie, Disc.
Pr<nim.'

( 502 )

ADDITIONAL APPENDIX

TO THE LIVES OP

SIR JOSEPH BANKS AND ADAM SMITH.

CAPT. COOK TO MR. BANKS.

" Wills's Coffee-house, Charing
" DEAR SiR, " Sunday Morning, [1768?]

ft

Your very obliging letter was the first messenger
that conveyed to me Lord Sandwich's intentions. Promotion,
unsolicited, to a man in my situation in life, must convey a
satisfaction to the mind that is better conceived than described.
I had this morning the honour to wait upon his Lordship,
who renewed his promises to me, and in so obliging and
polite a manner as convinced me he approved of the voyage.
The reputation I may have acquired on this account, by which
I shall receive promotion, calls to my mind the very great
assistance I received therein from you, which will ever be
remembered with most grateful acknowledgments by,

"Dear Sir,

" Your most obliged humble servant,
"JAMES COOK."

CAPT. COOK TO MR. BANKS.

" SlRa " Sheerness, 2nd June, 1/72.

" I received your letter by one of your people, acquaint-
ing me that you had ordered everything belonging to you to
be removed out of the ship, and desiring my assistance therein.
"I hope, Sir, you will find this done to your satisfaction,
and with that care the present hurry and confused state of
the ship required. Some few articles which were for the mess
I have kept; for which, together with the money I have re-

SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 503

maining in my hands, I shall account with you for, when I
come to Town.

" Taught by experience not to trust to the knowledge of
servants the whole of every necessary article wanting in such
a voyage, I had, independent of what I purchased for the
mess, laid in a stock of most articles, which will be now quite
sufficient for me, and is the reason why I have not kept more
of yours.

" The cook and two French-horn men are at liberty to go
whenever they please. Several of the casks your things are
in belong to the King, are charged to me, and for which I
must be accountable. I shall be much obliged to you to send
them to the Victualling-Office when they are emptied, but
desire that you will by no means put yourself to any ill-con-
veniency on this head, as I shall not be called upon to account
for them until my return.

" If it should not be convenient to send down for what
may be still remaining in the ship of yours, they shall be sent

you by

"Sir,

" Your most obedient and very humble servant,

"JAMES COOK."

"My best respects to the Doctor; and since I am not to
have your company in the ' Resolution/ I most sincerely wish
you success in all your exploring undertakings."

CAPT. COOK TO MR. BANKS.

" ' Resolution,' Cape of Good Hope,

" DEAR SIR, " isth Nov. 17/2.

" Some cross circumstances which happened at the
latter part of the equipment of the ' Resolution* created,
I have reason to think, a coolness betwixt you and I ; but I
can by no means think it was sufficient to me to break off all
correspondence with a man I am under many obligations to.
" I wish I had something interesting to communicate, but
our passage here has rather been barren on that head. We
touched at St. Jago, where we remained two days, and Mr.

504 SIR JOSEPH BANKS.

Forster got some things there new in your way. Mr. Brand
has got for you a fine collection, as I am told. I depart from
hence in a day or two well stored with every necessary thing,
but I am told the French from the Mauritius have got the
start of me. About eight months ago two ships from that
island discovered land in the latitude of 48 degrees, and
about the meridian of the Mauritius, along which they sailed
forty miles till they came to a bay, into which they were
about to enter, when they were separated, and drove off the
coast by a gale of wind. The one got to the Mauritius soon
after, and the other is since arrived from Batavia with a cargo
of arrack, as the report goes here ; also, in March last, two
frigates from the same island touched here in their way to
the South Sea, having on board the man Bougainville
brought from Otaheite, and who died before the ships de-
parted hence, a circumstance I am really sorry for. These
ships were to touch some where on the coast of America,
and afterwards to proceed round Cape Horn.

" I am in your debt for the pickled and dried salmon
which you left on board, which a little time ago was most
excellent ; but the eight casks of pickled salted fish I kept for
myself proved so bad that even the hogs would not eat it.
These hints may be of use to you in providing for your in-
tended expedition, in which I wish you all the success you
can wish yourself; and am, with great esteem and respect,

" Dear Sir,

" Your most obliged humble servant,
"JAMES COOK."

CAPT. COOK TO MR. BANKS.

" DEAR SlU, " Plymouth Sound, July 10th, 1776.

" As you was so obliging as to say you would give a
description of the New Zealand spruce tree, or any other
plant, the drawing of which might accompany my Journal,
I desired Mr. Strahan and Mr. Stuart, who have the charge
of the publication, to give you extracts out the manuscript of
such descriptions as I had given (if any), for you to correct

ADAM SMITH. 505

or describe yourself, as may be most agreeable. I know not
what plates Mr. Forster may have got engraved of natural
history that will come into my books; nor do I know of any
that will be of use to it, but the spruce tree and tea plant
and scurvy grass ; and I know not if this last is engraved.
The flax plant is engraved; but whether the publishing of
this in my Journal will be of any use to seamen I shall not
determine. In short, whatever plates of this kind falls to my
share, I shall hope for your kind assistance in giving some
short account of them. On my arrival here I gave Omai
three guineas, which sent him on shore in high spirits: indeed
he could hardly be otherwise, for he is very much caressed
here by every person of note ; and, upon the whole, I think
he rejoices at the prospect of going home.

" I now only wait for a wind to put to sea ; unless Capt.
Clarke makes good haste down, he will have to follow me.
Sir John Pringle writes me that the Council of the Royal
Society have decreed me the Prize Medal of this year. I am
obliged to you and my other good friends for this unmerited
honour.

" Omai joins his best respects to you and Dr. Solander

with,

" Dear Sir,

"Your most obedient and very humble servant,

"JAMES COOK."

These letters are given out of their place, not having come
into my possession until after the Life of Sir J. Banks was
printed. They appeared sufficiently interesting to be here
inserted. The same reason must justify the inserting, also
out of its place, the following extract from a letter of Dr. Black
to Mr. Smith, on his e Wealth of Nations/ The rest of the
letter regards Mr. Hume's health. It was written apparently
in August, 1776. Nothing can be more interesting than to
mark the sentiments of a great and original genius respecting
the exertions of another and congenial spirit in a different
walk of science.

506 ADAM SMITH.

DR. BLACK TO ADAM SMITH.

.- 1

Though I. sit down to write to you upon another account,
I cannot help expressing the pleasure and satisfaction I fre-
quently meet with in hearing the opinions of good judges
concerning your book. I most heartily rejoice in the prospect
of the additional credit and reputation which you cannot
miss to gain by it, and which must increase as long as you
live; for I have no doubt that the views you have given of
many parts of your subject will be found by experience to be
as just as they are new and interesting. And although it be
admired immediately by discerning and impartial judges, it
will require more time before others who are not so quick-
sighted, or whose minds are warped by prejudice or interest,
can understand and relish such a comprehensive system,
framed with such just and liberal sentiments."

( 507)

NOTE TO THE LIVES

or

CAVENDISH, WATT, AND BLACK,

Published in the First Volume.

I HAD not read M. Cuvier' s ' Eloge de M. Cavendish' when
the former volume of these Lives was published. That Eloge
is contained in the Memoirs of the Institute for 1811*.
Its composition certainly justifies the title of Eloge; for it is
a very indiscriminate, and not very accurate panegyric of
an illustrious man, whose memory was best preserved and
honoured bv a correct statement of the facts. M. Cuvier

•/

makes no mention whatever of Watt in connection with the
discovery of the composition of water. But he is not much
more just to Black himself on that of fixed air; or, as he calls
him, Blake : clearly showing that he bad never taken the
trouble even to look at any work of that great man. As to
Mr. Cavendish, he gives it for part of his Eulogy that he
explained his doctrines " dans une maniere plus etonnante
encore que leur decouverte meme," (p. cxxvi.) Now if M.
Cuvier had read the paper upon the combustion of inflam-
mable air, he certainly would have found that this remark in
no respect whatever applies to it, for the composition of water
is but darkly shadowed out in that celebrated Memoir.

He proceeds to say, that in 1766 Mr. Cavendish under-
took, in his paper read before the Royal Society, to establish

* Nothing can be more confused, more inconsistent, than the manner of
publishing the volumes of this great work. It is generally a year or two
and even three or four, after the real date of the papers ; thus this twelfth
volume of the new series is called ' Mem. aune'e 1811,' yet it contains only
two papers of 1810-11; all the rest were received in 1812-13. I have
remarked this more fully in the Lives of Lavoisier and D'Alembert.

508 NOTES.

propositions, " presqu'inouies jusque la; 1'eau n'est pas un
element; il existe plusieurs sortes d'airs, essentiellement
diflerentes." He then mentions Von Helmont inaccurately,
as having ascertained that there were " permanently elastic
vapours other than atmospheric air;" and Hales, still more
inaccurately, as having measured these permanently elastic
fluids : whereas Hales considered them all as common air,
combined with impure exhalations, — an opinion which pre-
vailed a century and a half after Von Helmont, and was
adopted by D'Alembert in his article "Air" in the Ency-
clopaedia, 1751. Black's discovery of fixed air, he con-
fines solely to its explaining the causticity of the alkalis
and earths. No one, he says, before Cavendish had dis-
tinguished it as a separate aeriform substance ; and though
emanations were said to proceed from bodies, no one knew in
what they consisted. Cavendish, he says, in 1766 first settled
all these questions, and showed that this air, whether from
chalk or fermentation, or mines, was one and the same fluid,
" auquel on a depuis reserve le nom d'air fixe." Finally he
(Cavendish) discovered that it was the air evolved from burn-
ing charcoal (p. cxxx). He then ascribes the application of
inflammable air to raising balloons in the air to M. Charles's
application of Mr. Cavendish's experiments on the specific
gravity of that gas.

This is really somewhat astounding. That a person of
M. Cuvier's eminent attainments, filling the high office of
Secretaire Perpetuel, and charged with the delicate and
important duty of recording the history of science yearly,
should not have deemed it worth his while to read either the
celebrated experiments on Magnesia Alba and Quicklime
published in 1755, or the Lectures published in 1803, before
assuming to write the history of chemical discovery, is wholly
beyond belief. Had he read the former work, he would have
found that Dr. Black gave to the air which he had discovered
the name of fixed air; and that he did so, not because it was
the same with, or any modification of, atmospheric air, but
simply because air was a known term in common use to
represent a permanently elastic fluid, and because this kind
of air was found fixed in combination with bodies. Had he

NOTES. 509

looked at the Lectures, he would have found that two years
after the publication of his capital discovery, viz., in 1757?
and one year before Mr. Cavendishes paper was received,
Dr. Black discovered that fixed air is the gas evolved in fer-
mentation, and that he found it to be so by the very experi-
ment now in use to show it, namely, emptying half of a phial
filled with lime water in the air of a brewer's vat, when the
remaining lime water becomes turbid, the carbonate of lime
being formed and precipitated; that he discovered on the
same day the identity of fixed air with that evolved from
burning charcoal; and finally, that he also ascertained the
air evolved from the lungs in respiration to be fixed air, by
breathing through a syphon half filled with lime water. All
this, which M. Cuvier ascribes to Mr. Cavendish's discoveries,
in 1766, had been published by Dr. Black in 1755, and
explained by the experiments themselves being performed by
his own hands, in his public lectures, every year before
nearly three hundred persons, from the year 1757 to the
time of Mr. Cavendish's supposed discovery in 1766. Of
these Lectures numberless copies were taken, were in ge-
neral circulation, and were sold to the students attending
the classes of the College in Edinburgh. It is, however, very
possible that Mr. Cavendish was not apprised of Dr. Black's
experiment made before 1752 and published in 1755. But it
is quite certain that he never arrogated to himself the discovery
of fixed air being a peculiar body different from common air, for
he expressly says, " By fixed air I mean that peculiar species
of factitious air which is separated from alcaline substances by
solution in acids, or by calcination, and to which Dr. Black
has given that name in his Treatise on Quicklime." (fPhil.
Trans.,' LVL, p. 140.) Now this shows clearly that M.
Cuvier never had read Mr. Cavendish's paper, any more than
he had read Dr. Black's Treatise, and his Lectures. Another
proof is his asserting that Mr. Cavendish discovered the air
evolved from burning charcoal to be fixed air. His paper
contains not one word on that air as connected with burning
charcoal. Nay, so far is Mr. Cavendish from assuming to
himself the discovery of its identity with the air evolved in
fermentation, that he expressly says Dr. Macbride had dis-

510 NOTES.

covered the evolving of fixed air in that process, and that he
himself only made his experiments to ascertain if any other
air was also evolved, when he found inflammable air also to
come away. Apparently he had not been aware of Dr. Black's
experiments in 1757- The Lectures would also have shewn
M. Cuvier that Dr. Black, as early as 1 7^6, showed his friends
the ascent of a bladder rilled with inflammable air, long
before the experiments of M. Charles, to whom the earliest
observation of this fact is by M. Cuvier rashly ascribed.

M. Cuvier mentions Macquer as having first observed
the deposit of moisture when inflammable air is burnt. He
says nothing of Mr. Warltire's experiment, though Mr. Caven-
dish himself states expressly (< Phil. Trans.' 1784, p. 126) that
it was the deposit of dew observed by Warltire, which set
him on making his experiments. From this omission of M.
Cuvier, it is plain that he never took the trouble to read the
paper of Mr. Cavendish, which, as he refers to it by volume
and page, he may, therefore, have seen — he never could have
read it. This also accounts for his singular assertion, that Mr.
Cavendish's discoveries were explained with an evidence and
a clearness more astonishing than the discoveries themselves.

It is equally incorrect to affirm, as M. Cuvier appears to
do, p. cxxxiii, that the decomposition of water suggested by
M. de la Place, and performed by M. Lavoisier, became uia
clef de la voute," for the analytical experiment is equivocal,
and the synthetical alone is precise. He says that M. Monge
had made the same experiments as Mr. Cavendish, and had
the same idea, " avoit eu la meme idee,r probably meaning
that of a quantity of water being formed equal to the quantity
of airs burnt, and had communicated the result to Lavoisier
and La Place; and Monge seems really to give the first
notion of wrater being composed of these airs, as La Place's;
for he says, " Si la combustion de ces airs donne de 1'eau, dit
M. de la Place, c'est qu'ils resultent de sa decomposition."
Had M. Cuvier really read the work he so often cites, the
'Philosophical Transactions,' he would have found Mr. Watt's
letter, and he could hardly have avoided mentioning the first
idea of the composition as his.

But truly it is to be lamented that the history of science

NOTES. 511

should be written with such remarkable carelessness, and
such manifest inattention to the facts. To find mistakes so
very gross in the works of ordinary writers might excite little
surprise; but when they are embodied in the history of the
National Institute, and when they come to us under the
name, among the very first in all sciences, of Cuvier, we may
at once wonder and mourn.

Since the Life of Watt was published, a very strange attack
on both M. Arago and myself, but more especially on my illus-
trious colleague, has appeared in the ' Quarterly Review/ The
ingenious and (as far as this controversy is concerned) not
very learned critic appears to be led away by the excess of
his zeal for Mr. Cavendish. I leave him in the hands of M.
Arago, who will observe with some wonder that he has been
accused and judged and condemned by a chemist so well
versed in that science, and so reflecting, as to announce the
astonishing novelty, that the exhibition of sulphur to sulphuric
acid reduces that acid and restores it to its primitive state
of sulphur ! The writer had probably read somewhere that
sulphuric acid is reduced to sulphurous by the process ; for he
is assuredly the first that had ever hit upon the acid's reduc-
tion by sulphur "to its primitive state/'* I have lying
before me fifteen pages of statements of chemical errors in
the thirty- four pages of the paper; and as these are the work
of a most experienced and learned and practical chemist,
whom I consulted on the above and other parts of the paper,
I have entire reliance on his report and opinion. I must
also add that he completely bears out, by the authority of his
concurring opinion, the statements (disputed by the critic)
which I had ventured to make respecting Dr. Black's dis-
coveries, with the single exception that he is not aware how
far I am justified in stating the greater specific gravity of
fixed air as known to him before Mr. Cavendish's experiments

* The process of reducing phosphoric acid to its primitive phosphorus, had
just been stated, and the writer adds, " A similar succession of phenomena
are presented by sulphur, &c.;" and he enumerates sulphur as one of the
bodies which reduce the acid to its primitive state.

512 NOTES.

in 1 766. My reason for so stating was my distinct recollection
of Dr. B. having in his lectures shewn us the experiment of
pouring fixed air out of a receiver on a candle, and his having
given this as a property originally known to himself when he
discovered the gas, though it is very true that the published
lectures do not decide either way the question of his early
knowledge. His not mentioning Mr. Cavendish or any one
else as having first taught it him is with me, who well knew
his scrupulous exactness in such matters, quite decisive of his
having himself observed it.

I shall only cite further my correspondent's note on the
Reviewer's statement, Sf that I was wrong in ascribing to Dr.
Black the discovery that fixed air has acid properties."
(p. 110.) — "The Reviewer adds that 'the acidity of fixed air
was indicated for the first time by Priestley and his fellow-
labourers, and only completely established by Lavoisier, who
shewed fixed air to be carbonic acid, or a mixture of carbon
and oxygen.5 His Lordship is quite right, and the Reviewer
doubly and egregiously wrong. Priestley did not indicate for
the first time the acidity of fixed air. Whether he under-
stood Black's views concerning it does not appear, but he
expressly disclaims the discovery as his own. His words are,
' It is not improbable but that fixed air itself may be of the
nature of an acid, though of a weak and peculiar sort. Mr.
Bergman of Upsal, who honoured me with a letter upon the
subject, calls it the aerial acid; and among other experiments
to prove it to be an acid, he says that it changes the blue
juice of tournesole into red. ('Phil. Trans/ 1772, vol. Ixx.,
p. 153.) It does not appear whether Black was aware of the
reddening action of fixed air on vegetable colours, but he was
abundantly aware of the functions of fixed air as an acid ; that
is, of its power to neutralize bases, and to form salts by com-
bination with them. Black's own words are, ' These con-
siderations led me to conclude that the relation between fixed
air and alkaline substances was somewhat similar to the rela-
tion between these and acids j that as the calcareous earths
and alkalis attract acids strongly, and can be saturated with

o j -'

them, so they also attract fixed air, and are in their ordinary
state saturated with it.' ('Experiments upon Magnesia

NOTES. 513

Alba,' &c., p. 50.) The whole page might be quoted. Nothing
could be more satisfactory to a chemist than this statement.
The modem definition of an acid is ea substance which
neutralizes bases, and by combination with them, forms salts.'
Power to affect vegetable colours, or sour taste, the vulgar
attributes of an acid, are wanting in many of the most power-
ful of them; for example, in silicic acid. The Reviewer's
reference to Lavoisier is quite meaningless. The French
chemist shewed that fixed air was an oxide of carbon.
Whether it was an acid oxide or not, could not be deter-
mined by analysis. That problem could be solved only by
ascertaining whether or not it formed salts by combining
with bases. That is the only method possible at the present
day, and was the one Black followed."

So very easy is it for ill-informed and inaccurate writers to
launch charges of ignorance and inaccuracy and carelessness
against others ! M. Arago will no doubt be fully sensible of
this truth, though he will furnish no example of it in his own
person or in his defence of himself.

As for the mysterious passage in p. 11*7, which states that
the critic had prepared a commentary on my account of
Mr. Cavendish's experiment regarding the density of the
earth, but that, possibly through pity towards a fellow crea-
ture, he suppressed it, giving, however, as the result, that
it would show " the most ingenious and entire distortion, not
merely of nearly every step in the process itself, but of nearly
every principle involved in it," — I can only, with all humility,
but with all comfort, mention, that the passage is none of my
own, being taken very closely from the work of a most pro-
found mathematician, professor of the science in one of our
Universities; and that, in borrowing it, I find that I have
avoided two errors in the original, one the misprint (appa-
rently) of friction for torsion, the other the confining the
comparison to the time of the oscillation, whereas I make
it general, including therefore both the length and the
duration. I wrote the account at a distance from Mr.
Cavendish's paper, and therefore took it at second hand. If
friction is intended, and not torsion, in the account which
I copied, it is an omission certainly. How it can be called a

2 L

514 NOTES.

distortion, I cannot comprehend, nor can the learned Pro-
fessor himself, whom I have consulted. I say nothing of a
similar charge respecting the Torricellian experiment, except
to observe, that my reference to it is most studiously framed
to exclude the very construction put upon it by the critic, as
the sentence beginning "unless" must plainly shew to any
candid reader.

Now 1 write with great and unfeigned personal respect for
the learned critic, who, had his work been given under the
sanction of his name, would have been more careful in all
likelihood. But one discovery having been mentioned, 1 must
add, that he also has made another, a discovery which, I
think, would have surprised my friend Mr. Vernon Harcourt
himself, as much as it did his other readers, " that there are
very few amongst the most distinguished of our countrymen
superior to" that reverend and exceUent person, "either as a
writer or as a man of science ;" so great a length will zeal for
his friend and fellow polemic carry a critic engaged in a
controversy.

But this zeal is readily explained by the reflection that
fellow-combatants in any controversy which heats their
tempers, are blind to each other's deficiencies, and exaggerate
each other's perfections; they are also prone to exaggerate
the services rendered by each other to the common cause.
"The unanswerable arguments of my noble, or my honourable
friend," is a very familiar expression on every side in Parlia-
mentary debates, which one thus finds are conducted on both
sides by combatants equally invincible, and therefore ought
always to prove drawn battles. So the critic holds Mr. Vernon
Harcourt's publication from Mr. Cavendish's Journals, to be
decisive in favour of his contention ; whereas those extracts
demonstrate, that Mr. Cavendish never had, even privately,
given the explanation of his experiment until after Mr.
Watt's theory was in the hands of the Royal Society. I am
very far from arguing upon this important publication of Mr.
Vernon Harcourt's, that Mr. Cavendish borrowed the hint
from Mr. Watt; but at least it demonstrates that Mr. Watt
had reduced his theory to writing before Mr. Cavendish, and
could not by possibility have borrowed it from him.

NOTES. 515

It must once more be repeated, that I never charged or
thought of charging Mr. Cavendish with having obtained
from Mr. Watt's paper his knowledge of the composition of
water, and having knowingly borrowed it, however suspicious
a case Mr. Harcourt's publication may seem to make. Both
those great men, in my opinion, made the discovery apart
from each other, and ignorant each of the other's doctrine.
Mr. Cavendish was a man of the strictest integrity, and the
most perfect sense of justice. His feelings were very far
inferior to his principles. He was singularly callous to the
ordinary calls of humanity, as there exist positive proofs
sufficient to satisfy the polemical writer upon whose paper I
have been commenting if he has any mind to see them. Nor
do they rest on my assertion, for I never had any intercourse
with him except in society. But the pursuits of a philoso-
pher and the life of a recluse, which had so entirely hardened
his heart, had not in the least degree impaired his sense
of justice ; and my own belief is, that he as entirely supposed
himself to have alone made the discovery in question, as Sir
Isaac Newton believed himself to be the sole discoverer of
the nature of light, and the theory of the solar system.

Mr. J. Watt and M. Arago may now safely be left to
carry on the controversy, whether with the reverend author,
or with his able and ingenious, though somewhat over-zealous
critic. The subject left in their hands is safe, and the truth
is sure to prevail. In these circumstances I am far from
feeling any anxiety as to the result, or any desire to anti-
cipate the arguments and the statements which must so soon
be brought forward. But as I have been freely and most
rashly charged with inaccuracy, with inattention to facts,
even with having omitted to read the original papers on which
the question turns, and charged, in company with my friends
M. Arago and Mr. J. Watt, (one of the most careful, labo-
rious, and scrupulously exact of men,) I may simply assert,
that as regards myself no imputation can well be more
groundless ; for there is not a single one of the whole papers
which I have not repeatedly and sedulously examined, both
alone and in company with others who took an interest in
the controversy. I might add, that never was a charge made

516 NOTES.

with a worse grace than this by the ingenious, and most care-
less, and very moderately-informed critic who has mixed in
the discussion: for assuredly he has not taken the trouble
to read the papers, or to make himself acquainted with the
works which every chemist, even every student of chemistry
familiarly knows. What shall we say of a writer who under-
takes to discuss this question, with no better provision for
handling it, than is betokened by his broadly affirming that
Mr. Watt himself never preferred the disputed claim, when
there exists his own paper of 1784 in the 'Philosophical
Transactions/ referring to and indeed containing his letter
of April, 1783? Nay, what shall we again say of the same
critic as broadly asserting, that no one ever in Mr. Caven-
dish's lifetime brought it forward, when Professor Robison in
the Encyclopaedia, Dr. John Thomson in his celebrated Trans-
lation of Fourcroy, Dr. Thomas Thomson and Mr. Murray,
each in their ' Elements of Chemistry,' and Mr. W. Nicholson
in both his e Dictionary5 and his other works, all state Mr.
Watt's claim in the very words in which M. Arago and
myself now have urged it, nay, Sir C. Blagden states it in
his letter to Crell, and all these long and long before Mr.
Cavendish's death,* to say nothing of others, as Dr. Thom-
son, in his 'History of the Royal Society,1 published since?
As to Mr. Vernon Harcourt's appealing boldly to -Dr. Henry's
authority, and preserving a profound silence when I quoted
his letter, expressly negativing that confident statement, I
say nothing; because it is a matter not easily handled, con-
sistently with the respect and esteem in which I have ever
held my reverend friend.

* Professor Robison in 1797; the Translation of Fourcroy earlier.

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