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diff --git a/2445-h/2445-h.htm b/2445-h/2445-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..14e67ad --- /dev/null +++ b/2445-h/2445-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3837 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Letters on England</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Letters on England, by Voltaire</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Letters on England, by Voltaire, Edited by +Henry Morley + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Letters on England + + +Author: Voltaire + +Release Date: April 22, 2005 [eBook #2445] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS ON ENGLAND*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1894 Cassell & Co. edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<h1>LETTERS ON ENGLAND<br /> +by Voltaire</h1> +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> +<p>François Marie Arouet, who called himself Voltaire, was the +son of François Arouet of Poitou, who lived in Paris, had given +up his office of notary two years before the birth of this his third +son, and obtained some years afterwards a treasurer’s office in +the Chambre des Comptes. Voltaire was born in the year 1694. +He lived until within ten or eleven years of the outbreak of the Great +French Revolution, and was a chief leader in the movement of thought +that preceded the Revolution. Though he lived to his eighty-fourth +year, Voltaire was born with a weak body. His brother Armand, +eight years his senior, became a Jansenist. Voltaire when ten +years old was placed with the Jesuits in the Collège Louis-le-Grand. +There he was taught during seven years, and his genius was encouraged +in its bent for literature; skill in speaking and in writing being especially +fostered in the system of education which the Jesuits had planned to +produce capable men who by voice and pen could give a reason for the +faith they held. Verses written for an invalid soldier at the +age of eleven won for young Voltaire the friendship of Ninon l’Enclos, +who encouraged him to go on writing verses. She died soon afterwards, +and remembered him with a legacy of two thousand livres for purchase +of books. He wrote in his lively school-days a tragedy that afterwards +he burnt. At the age of seventeen he left the Collège Louis-le-Grand, +where he said afterwards that he had been taught nothing but Latin and +the Stupidities. He was then sent to the law schools, and saw +life in Paris as a gay young poet who, with all his brilliant liveliness, +had an aptitude for looking on the tragic side of things, and one of +whose first poems was an “Ode on the Misfortunes of Life.” +His mother died when he was twenty. Voltaire’s father thought +him a fool for his versifying, and attached him as secretary to the +Marquis of Châteauneuf; when he went as ambassador to the Hague. +In December, 1713, he was dismissed for his irregularities. In +Paris his unsteadiness and his addiction to literature caused his father +to rejoice in getting him housed in a country château with M. +de Caumartin. M. de Caumartin’s father talked with such +enthusiasm of Henri IV. and Sully that Voltaire planned the writing +of what became his <i>Henriade</i>, and his “History of the Age +of Louis XIV.,” who died on the 1st of September, 1715.</p> +<p>Under the regency that followed, Voltaire got into trouble again +and again through the sharpness of his pen, and at last, accused of +verse that satirised the Regent, he was locked up—on the 17th +of May, 1717—in the Bastille. There he wrote the first two +books of his <i>Henriade</i>, and finished a play on Œdipus, which +he had begun at the age of eighteen. He did not obtain full liberty +until the 12th of April, 1718, and it was at this time—with a +clearly formed design to associate the name he took with work of high +attempt in literature—that François Marie Arouet, aged +twenty-four, first called himself Voltaire.</p> +<p>Voltaire’s <i>Œdipe</i> was played with success in November, +1718. A few months later he was again banished from Paris, and +finished the <i>Henriade</i> in his retirement, as well as another play, +<i>Artémise</i>, that was acted in February, 1720. Other +plays followed. In December, 1721, Voltaire visited Lord Bolingbroke, +who was then an exile from England, at the Château of La Source. +There was now constant literary activity. From July to October, +1722, Voltaire visited Holland with Madame de Rupelmonde. After +a serious attack of small-pox in November, 1723, Voltaire was active +as a poet about the Court. He was then in receipt of a pension +of two thousand livres from the king, and had inherited more than twice +as much by the death of his father in January, 1722. But in December, +1725, a quarrel, fastened upon him by the Chevalier de Rohan, who had +him waylaid and beaten, caused him to send a challenge. For this +he was arrested and lodged once more, in April, 1726, in the Bastille. +There he was detained a month; and his first act when he was released +was to ask for a passport to England.</p> +<p>Voltaire left France, reached London in August, 1726, went as guest +to the house of a rich merchant at Wandsworth, and remained three years +in this country, from the age of thirty-two to the age of thirty-five. +He was here when George I. died, and George II. became king. He +published here his <i>Henriade</i>. He wrote here his “History +of Charles XII.” He read “Gulliver’s Travels” +as a new book, and might have been present at the first night of <i>The +Beggar’s Opera</i>. He was here whet Sir Isaac Newton died.</p> +<p>In 1731 he published at Rouen the <i>Lettres sur les Anglais</i>, +which appeared in England in 1733 in the volume from which they are +here reprinted.</p> +<p>H.M.</p> +<h2>LETTERS ON ENGLAND</h2> +<h3>LETTER I.—ON THE QUAKERS</h3> +<p>I was of opinion that the doctrine and history of so extraordinary +a people were worthy the attention of the curious. To acquaint +myself with them I made a visit to one of the most eminent Quakers in +England, who, after having traded thirty years, had the wisdom to prescribe +limits to his fortune and to his desires, and was settled in a little +solitude not far from London. Being come into it, I perceived +a small but regularly built house, vastly neat, but without the least +pomp of furniture. The Quaker who owned it was a hale, ruddy-complexioned +old man, who had never been afflicted with sickness because he had always +been insensible to passions, and a perfect stranger to intemperance. +I never in my life saw a more noble or a more engaging aspect than his. +He was dressed like those of his persuasion, in a plain coat without +pleats in the sides, or buttons on the pockets and sleeves; and had +on a beaver, the brims of which were horizontal like those of our clergy. +He did not uncover himself when I appeared, and advanced towards me +without once stooping his body; but there appeared more politeness in +the open, humane air of his countenance, than in the custom of drawing +one leg behind the other, and taking that from the head which is made +to cover it. “Friend,” says he to me, “I perceive +thou art a stranger, but if I can do anything for thee, only tell me.” +“Sir,” said I to him, bending forwards and advancing, as +is usual with us, one leg towards him, “I flatter myself that +my just curiosity will not give you the least offence, and that you’ll +do me the honour to inform me of the particulars of your religion.” +“The people of thy country,” replied the Quaker, “are +too full of their bows and compliments, but I never yet met with one +of them who had so much curiosity as thyself. Come in, and let +us first dine together.” I still continued to make some +very unseasonable ceremonies, it not being easy to disengage one’s +self at once from habits we have been long used to; and after taking +part in a frugal meal, which began and ended with a prayer to God, I +began to question my courteous host. I opened with that which +good Catholics have more than once made to Huguenots. “My +dear sir,” said I, “were you ever baptised?” +“I never was,” replied the Quaker, “nor any of my +brethren.” “Zounds!” say I to him, “you +are not Christians, then.” “Friend,” replies +the old man in a soft tone of voice, “swear not; we are Christians, +and endeavour to be good Christians, but we are not of opinion that +the sprinkling water on a child’s head makes him a Christian.” +“Heavens!” say I, shocked at his impiety, “you have +then forgot that Christ was baptised by St. John.” “Friend,” +replies the mild Quaker once again, “swear not; Christ indeed +was baptised by John, but He himself never baptised anyone. We +are the disciples of Christ, not of John.” I pitied very +much the sincerity of my worthy Quaker, and was absolutely for forcing +him to get himself christened. “Were that all,” replied +he very gravely, “we would submit cheerfully to baptism, purely +in compliance with thy weakness, for we don’t condemn any person +who uses it; but then we think that those who profess a religion of +so holy, so spiritual a nature as that of Christ, ought to abstain to +the utmost of their power from the Jewish ceremonies.” “O +unaccountable!” say I: “what! baptism a Jewish ceremony?” +“Yes, my friend,” says he, “so truly Jewish, that +a great many Jews use the baptism of John to this day. Look into +ancient authors, and thou wilt find that John only revived this practice; +and that it had been used by the Hebrews, long before his time, in like +manner as the Mahometans imitated the Ishmaelites in their pilgrimages +to Mecca. Jesus indeed submitted to the baptism of John, as He +had suffered Himself to be circumcised; but circumcision and the washing +with water ought to be abolished by the baptism of Christ, that baptism +of the Spirit, that ablution of the soul, which is the salvation of +mankind. Thus the forerunner said, ‘I indeed baptise you +with water unto repentance; but He that cometh after me is mightier +than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear: he shall baptise you with +the Holy Ghost and with fire.’ Likewise Paul, the great +apostle of the Gentiles, writes as follows to the Corinthians, ‘Christ +sent me not to baptise, but to preach the Gospel;’ and indeed +Paul never baptised but two persons with water, and that very much against +his inclinations. He circumcised his disciple Timothy, and the +other disciples likewise circumcised all who were willing to submit +to that carnal ordinance. But art thou circumcised?” added +he. “I have not the honour to be so,” say I. +“Well, friend,” continues the Quaker, “thou art a +Christian without being circumcised, and I am one without being baptised.” +Thus did this pious man make a wrong but very specious application of +four or five texts of Scripture which seemed to favour the tenets of +his sect; but at the same time forgot very sincerely an hundred texts +which made directly against them. I had more sense than to contest +with him, since there is no possibility of convincing an enthusiast. +A man should never pretend to inform a lover of his mistress’s +faults, no more than one who is at law, of the badness of his cause; +nor attempt to win over a fanatic by strength of reasoning. Accordingly +I waived the subject.</p> +<p>“Well,” said I to him, “what sort of a communion +have you?” “We have none like that thou hintest at +among us,” replied he. “How! no communion?” +said I. “Only that spiritual one,” replied he, “of +hearts.” He then began again to throw out his texts of Scripture; +and preached a most eloquent sermon against that ordinance. He +harangued in a tone as though he had been inspired, to prove that the +sacraments were merely of human invention, and that the word “sacrament” +was not once mentioned in the Gospel. “Excuse,” said +he, “my ignorance, for I have not employed a hundredth part of +the arguments which might be brought to prove the truth of our religion, +but these thou thyself mayest peruse in the Exposition of our Faith +written by Robert Barclay. It is one of the best pieces that ever +was penned by man; and as our adversaries confess it to be of dangerous +tendency, the arguments in it must necessarily be very convincing.” +I promised to peruse this piece, and my Quaker imagined he had already +made a convert of me. He afterwards gave me an account in few +words of some singularities which make this sect the contempt of others. +“Confess,” said he, “that it was very difficult for +thee to refrain from laughter, when I answered all thy civilities without +uncovering my head, and at the same time said ‘thee’ and +‘thou’ to thee. However, thou appearest to me too +well read not to know that in Christ’s time no nation was so ridiculous +as to put the plural number for the singular. Augustus Cæsar +himself was spoken to in such phrases as these: ‘I love thee,’ +‘I beseech thee,’ ‘I thank thee;’ but he did +not allow any person to call him ‘Domine,’ sir. It +was not till many ages after that men would have the word ‘you,’ +as though they were double, instead of ‘thou’ employed in +speaking to them; and usurped the flattering titles of lordship, of +eminence, and of holiness, which mere worms bestow on other worms by +assuring them that they are with a most profound respect, and an infamous +falsehood, their most obedient humble servants. It is to secure +ourselves more strongly from such a shameless traffic of lies and flattery, +that we ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ a king with the same +freedom as we do a beggar, and salute no person; we owing nothing to +mankind but charity, and to the laws respect and obedience.</p> +<p>“Our apparel is also somewhat different from that of others, +and this purely, that it may be a perpetual warning to us not to imitate +them. Others wear the badges and marks of their several dignities, +and we those of Christian humility. We fly from all assemblies +of pleasure, from diversions of every kind, and from places where gaming +is practised; and indeed our case would be very deplorable, should we +fill with such levities as those I have mentioned the heart which ought +to be the habitation of God. We never swear, not even in a court +of justice, being of opinion that the most holy name of God ought not +to be prostituted in the miserable contests betwixt man and man. +When we are obliged to appear before a magistrate upon other people’s +account (for law-suits are unknown among the Friends), we give evidence +to the truth by sealing it with our yea or nay; and the judges believe +us on our bare affirmation, whilst so many other Christians forswear +themselves on the holy Gospels. We never war or fight in any case; +but it is not that we are afraid, for so far from shuddering at the +thoughts of death, we on the contrary bless the moment which unites +us with the Being of Beings; but the reason of our not using the outward +sword is, that we are neither wolves, tigers, nor mastiffs, but men +and Christians. Our God, who has commanded us to love our enemies, +and to suffer without repining, would certainly not permit us to cross +the seas, merely because murderers clothed in scarlet, and wearing caps +two foot high, enlist citizens by a noise made with two little sticks +on an ass’s skin extended. And when, after a victory is +gained, the whole city of London is illuminated; when the sky is in +a blaze with fireworks, and a noise is heard in the air, of thanksgivings, +of bells, of organs, and of the cannon, we groan in silence, and are +deeply affected with sadness of spirit and brokenness of heart, for +the sad havoc which is the occasion of those public rejoicings.”</p> +<h3>LETTER II.—ON THE QUAKERS</h3> +<p>Such was the substance of the conversation I had with this very singular +person; but I was greatly surprised to see him come the Sunday following +and take me with him to the Quakers’ meeting. There are +several of these in London, but that which he carried me to stands near +the famous pillar called The Monument. The brethren were already +assembled at my entering it with my guide. There might be about +four hundred men and three hundred women in the meeting. The women +hid their faces behind their fans, and the men were covered with their +broad-brimmed hats. All were seated, and the silence was universal. +I passed through them, but did not perceive so much as one lift up his +eyes to look at me. This silence lasted a quarter of an hour, +when at last one of them rose up, took off his hat, and, after making +a variety of wry faces and groaning in a most lamentable manner, he, +partly from his nose and partly from his mouth, threw out a strange, +confused jumble of words (borrowed, as he imagined, from the Gospel) +which neither himself nor any of his hearers understood. When +this distorter had ended his beautiful soliloquy, and that the stupid, +but greatly edified, congregation were separated, I asked my friend +how it was possible for the judicious part of their assembly to suffer +such a babbling? “We are obliged,” says he, “to +suffer it, because no one knows when a man rises up to hold forth whether +he will be moved by the Spirit or by folly. In this doubt and +uncertainty we listen patiently to everyone; we even allow our women +to hold forth. Two or three of these are often inspired at one +and the same time, and it is then that a most charming noise is heard +in the Lord’s house.” “You have, then, no priests?” +say I to him. “No, no, friend,” replies the Quaker, +“to our great happiness.” Then opening one of the +Friends’ books, as he called it, he read the following words in +an emphatic tone:—“‘God forbid we should presume to +ordain anyone to receive the Holy Spirit on the Lord’s Day to +the prejudice of the rest of the brethren.’ Thanks to the +Almighty, we are the only people upon earth that have no priests. +Wouldst thou deprive us of so happy a distinction? Why should +we abandon our babe to mercenary nurses, when we ourselves have milk +enough for it? These mercenary creatures would soon domineer in +our houses and destroy both the mother and the babe. God has said, +‘Freely you have received, freely give.’ Shall we, +after these words, cheapen, as it were, the Gospel, sell the Holy Ghost, +and make of an assembly of Christians a mere shop of traders? +We don’t pay a set of men clothed in black to assist our poor, +to bury our dead, or to preach to the brethren. These offices +are all of too tender a nature for us ever to entrust them to others.” +“But how is it possible for you,” said I, with some warmth, +“to know whether your discourse is really inspired by the Almighty?” +“Whosoever,” says he, “shall implore Christ to enlighten +him, and shall publish the Gospel truths he may feel inwardly, such +an one may be assured that he is inspired by the Lord.” +He then poured forth a numberless multitude of Scripture texts which +proved, as he imagined, that there is no such thing as Christianity +without an immediate revelation, and added these remarkable words: “When +thou movest one of thy limbs, is it moved by thy own power? Certainly +not; for this limb is often sensible to involuntary motions. Consequently +he who created thy body gives motion to this earthly tabernacle. +And are the several ideas of which thy soul receives the impression +formed by thyself? Much less are they, since these pour in upon +thy mind whether thou wilt or no; consequently thou receivest thy ideas +from Him who created thy soul. But as He leaves thy affections +at full liberty, He gives thy mind such ideas as thy affections may +deserve; if thou livest in God, thou actest, thou thinkest in God. +After this thou needest only but open thine eyes to that light which +enlightens all mankind, and it is then thou wilt perceive the truth, +and make others perceive it.” “Why, this,” said +I, “is Malebranche’s doctrine to a tittle.” +“I am acquainted with thy Malebranche,” said he; “he +had something of the Friend in him, but was not enough so.” +These are the most considerable particulars I learnt concerning the +doctrine of the Quakers. In my next letter I shall acquaint you +with their history, which you will find more singular than their opinions.</p> +<h3>LETTER III.—ON THE QUAKERS</h3> +<p>You have already heard that the Quakers date from Christ, who, according +to them, was the first Quaker. Religion, say these, was corrupted +a little after His death, and remained in that state of corruption about +sixteen hundred years. But there were always a few Quakers concealed +in the world, who carefully preserved the sacred fire, which was extinguished +in all but themselves, until at last this light spread itself in England +in 1642.</p> +<p>It was at the time when Great Britain was torn to pieces by the intestine +wars which three or four sects had raised in the name of God, that one +George Fox, born in Leicestershire, and son to a silk-weaver, took it +into his head to preach, and, as he pretended, with all the requisites +of a true apostle—that is, without being able either to read or +write. He was about twenty-five years of age, irreproachable in +his life and conduct, and a holy madman. He was equipped in leather +from head to foot, and travelled from one village to another, exclaiming +against war and the clergy. Had his invectives been levelled against +the soldiery only he would have been safe enough, but he inveighed against +ecclesiastics. Fox was seized at Derby, and being carried before +a justice of peace, he did not once offer to pull off his leathern hat, +upon which an officer gave him a great box of the ear, and cried to +him, “Don’t you know you are to appear uncovered before +his worship?” Fox presented his other cheek to the officer, +and begged him to give him another box for God’s sake. The +justice would have had him sworn before he asked him any questions. +“Know, friend,” says Fox to him, “that I never swear.” +The justice, observing he “thee’d” and “thou’d” +him, sent him to the House of Correction, in Derby, with orders that +he should be whipped there. Fox praised the Lord all the way he +went to the House of Correction, where the justice’s order was +executed with the utmost severity. The men who whipped this enthusiast +were greatly surprised to hear him beseech them to give him a few more +lashes for the good of his soul. There was no need of entreating +these people; the lashes were repeated, for which Fox thanked them very +cordially, and began to preach. At first the spectators fell a-laughing, +but they afterwards listened to him; and as enthusiasm is an epidemical +distemper, many were persuaded, and those who scourged him became his +first disciples. Being set at liberty, he ran up and down the +country with a dozen proselytes at his heels, still declaiming against +the clergy, and was whipped from time to time. Being one day set +in the pillory, he harangued the crowd in so strong and moving a manner, +that fifty of the auditors became his converts, and he won the rest +so much in his favour that, his head being freed tumultuously from the +hole where it was fastened, the populace went and searched for the Church +of England clergyman who had been chiefly instrumental in bringing him +to this punishment, and set him on the same pillory where Fox had stood.</p> +<p>Fox was bold enough to convert some of Oliver Cromwell’s soldiers, +who thereupon quitted the service and refused to take the oaths. +Oliver, having as great a contempt for a sect which would not allow +its members to fight, as Sixtus Quintus had for another sect, <i>Dove +non si chiamava</i>, began to persecute these new converts. The +prisons were crowded with them, but persecution seldom has any other +effect than to increase the number of proselytes. These came, +therefore, from their confinement more strongly confirmed in the principles +they had imbibed, and followed by their gaolers, whom they had brought +over to their belief. But the circumstances which contributed +chiefly to the spreading of this sect were as follows:—Fox thought +himself inspired, and consequently was of opinion that he must speak +in a manner different from the rest of mankind. He thereupon began +to writhe his body, to screw up his face, to hold in his breath, and +to exhale it in a forcible manner, insomuch that the priestess of the +Pythian god at Delphos could not have acted her part to better advantage. +Inspiration soon became so habitual to him that he could scarce deliver +himself in any other manner. This was the first gift he communicated +to his disciples. These aped very sincerely their master’s +several grimaces, and shook in every limb the instant the fit of inspiration +came upon them, whence they were called Quakers. The vulgar attempted +to mimic them; they trembled, they spake through the nose, they quaked +and fancied themselves inspired by the Holy Ghost. The only thing +now wanting was a few miracles, and accordingly they wrought some.</p> +<p>Fox, this modern patriarch, spoke thus to a justice of peace before +a large assembly of people: “Friend, take care what thou dost; +God will soon punish thee for persecuting His saints.” This +magistrate, being one who besotted himself every day with bad beer and +brandy, died of an apoplexy two days after, the moment he had signed +a <i>mittimus</i> for imprisoning some Quakers. The sudden death +with which this justice was seized was not ascribed to his intemperance, +but was universally looked upon as the effect of the holy man’s +predictions; so that this accident made more converts to Quakerism than +a thousand sermons and as many shaking fits could have done. Oliver, +finding them increase daily, was desirous of bringing them over to his +party, and for that purpose attempted to bribe them by money. +However, they were incorruptible, which made him one day declare that +this religion was the only one he had ever met with that had resisted +the charms of gold.</p> +<p>The Quakers were several times persecuted under Charles II.; not +upon a religious account, but for refusing to pay the tithes, for “theeing” +and “thouing” the magistrates, and for refusing to take +the oaths enacted by the laws.</p> +<p>At last Robert Barclay, a native of Scotland, presented to the King, +in 1675, his “Apology for the Quakers,” a work as well drawn +up as the subject could possibly admit. The dedication to Charles +II. is not filled with mean, flattering encomiums, but abounds with +bold touches in favour of truth and with the wisest counsels. +“Thou hast tasted,” says he to the King at the close of +his epistle dedicatory, “of prosperity and adversity; thou knowest +what it is to be banished thy native country; to be overruled as well +as to rule and sit upon the throne; and, being oppressed, thou hast +reason to know how hateful the Oppressor is both to God and man. +If, after all these warnings and advertisements, thou dost not turn +unto the Lord with all thy heart, but forget Him who remembered thee +in thy distress, and give up thyself to follow lust and vanity, surely +great will be thy condemnation.</p> +<p>“Against which snare, as well as the temptation of those that +may or do feed thee and prompt thee to evil, the most excellent and +prevalent remedy will be, to apply thyself to that light of Christ which +shineth in thy conscience, which neither can nor will flatter thee nor +suffer thee to be at ease in thy sins, but doth and will deal plainly +and faithfully with thee, as those that are followers thereof have plainly +done.—Thy faithful friend and subject, Robert Barclay.”</p> +<p>A more surprising circumstance is, that this epistle, written by +a private man of no figure, was so happy in its effects, as to put a +stop to the persecution.</p> +<h3>LETTER IV.—ON THE QUAKERS</h3> +<p>About this time arose the illustrious William Penn, who established +the power of the Quakers in America, and would have made them appear +venerable in the eyes of the Europeans, were it possible for mankind +to respect virtue when revealed in a ridiculous light. He was +the only son of Vice-Admiral Penn, favourite of the Duke of York, afterwards +King James II.</p> +<p>William Penn, at twenty years of age, happening to meet with a Quaker +in Cork, whom he had known at Oxford, this man made a proselyte of him; +and William being a sprightly youth, and naturally eloquent, having +a winning aspect, and a very engaging carriage, he soon gained over +some of his intimates. He carried matters so far, that he formed +by insensible degrees a society of young Quakers, who met at his house; +so that he was at the head of a sect when a little above twenty.</p> +<p>Being returned, after his leaving Cork, to the Vice-Admiral his father, +instead of falling upon his knees to ask his blessing, he went up to +him with his hat on, and said, “Friend, I am very glad to see +thee in good health.” The Vice-Admiral imagined his son +to be crazy, but soon finding he was turned Quaker, he employed all +the methods that prudence could suggest to engage him to behave and +act like other people. The youth made no other answer to his father, +than by exhorting him to turn Quaker also. At last his father +confined himself to this single request, viz., “that he should +wait upon the King and the Duke of York with his hat under his arm, +and should not ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ them.” +William answered, “that he could not do these things, for conscience’ +sake,” which exasperated his father to such a degree, that he +turned him out of doors. Young Pen gave God thanks for permitting +him to suffer so early in His cause, after which he went into the city, +where he held forth, and made a great number of converts.</p> +<p>The Church of England clergy found their congregations dwindle away +daily; and Penn being young, handsome, and of a graceful stature, the +court as well as the city ladies flocked very devoutly to his meeting. +The patriarch, George Fox, hearing of his great reputation, came to +London (though the journey was very long) purely to see and converse +with him. Both resolved to go upon missions into foreign countries, +and accordingly they embarked for Holland, after having left labourers +sufficient to take care of the London vineyard.</p> +<p>Their labours were crowned with success in Amsterdam, but a circumstance +which reflected the greatest honour on them, and at the same time put +their humility to the greatest trial, was the reception they met with +from Elizabeth, the Princess Palatine, aunt to George I. of Great Britain, +a lady conspicuous for her genius and knowledge, and to whom Descartes +had dedicated his Philosophical Romance.</p> +<p>She was then retired to the Hague, where she received these Friends, +for so the Quakers were at that time called in Holland. This princess +had several conferences with them in her palace, and she at last entertained +so favourable an opinion of Quakerism, that they confessed she was not +far from the kingdom of heaven. The Friends sowed likewise the +good seed in Germany, but reaped very little fruit; for the mode of +“theeing” and “thouing” was not approved of +in a country where a man is perpetually obliged to employ the titles +of “highness” and “excellency.” William +Penn returned soon to England upon hearing of his father’s sickness, +in order to see him before he died. The Vice-Admiral was reconciled +to his son, and though of a different persuasion, embraced him tenderly. +William made a fruitless exhortation to his father not to receive the +sacrament, but to die a Quaker, and the good old man entreated his son +William to wear buttons on his sleeves, and a crape hatband in his beaver, +but all to no purpose.</p> +<p>William Penn inherited very large possessions, part of which consisted +in Crown debts due to the Vice-Admiral for sums he had advanced for +the sea service. No moneys were at that time more insecure than +those owing from the king. Penn was obliged to go more than once, +and “thee” and “thou” King Charles and his Ministers, +in order to recover the debt; and at last, instead of specie, the Government +invested him with the right and sovereignty of a province of America, +to the south of Maryland. Thus was a Quaker raised to sovereign +power. Penn set sail for his new dominions with two ships freighted +with Quakers, who followed his fortune. The country was then called +Pennsylvania from William Penn, who there founded Philadelphia, now +the most flourishing city in that country. The first step he took +was to enter into an alliance with his American neighbours, and this +is the only treaty between those people and the Christians that was +not ratified by an oath, and was never infringed. The new sovereign +was at the same time the legislator of Pennsylvania, and enacted very +wise and prudent laws, none of which have ever been changed since his +time. The first is, to injure no person upon a religious account, +and to consider as brethren all those who believe in one God.</p> +<p>He had no sooner settled his government, but several American merchants +came and peopled this colony. The natives of the country, instead +of flying into the woods, cultivated by insensible degrees a friendship +with the peaceable Quakers. They loved these foreigners as much +as they detested the other Christians who had conquered and laid waste +America. In a little time a great number of these savages (falsely +so called), charmed with the mild and gentle disposition of their neighbours, +came in crowds to William Penn, and besought him to admit them into +the number of his vassals. It was very rare and uncommon for a +sovereign to be “thee’d” and “thou’d” +by the meanest of his subjects, who never took their hats off when they +came into his presence; and as singular for a Government to be without +one priest in it, and for a people to be without arms, either offensive +or defensive; for a body of citizens to be absolutely undistinguished +but by the public employments, and for neighbours not to entertain the +least jealousy one against the other.</p> +<p>William Penn might glory in having brought down upon earth the so +much boasted golden age, which in all probability never existed but +in Pennsylvania. He returned to England to settle some affairs +relating to his new dominions. After the death of King Charles +II., King James, who had loved the father, indulged the same affection +to the son, and no longer considered him as an obscure sectary, but +as a very great man. The king’s politics on this occasion +agreed with his inclinations. He was desirous of pleasing the +Quakers by annulling the laws made against Nonconformists, in order +to have an opportunity, by this universal toleration, of establishing +the Romish religion. All the sectarists in England saw the snare +that was laid for them, but did not give into it; they never failing +to unite when the Romish religion, their common enemy, is to be opposed. +But Penn did not think himself bound in any manner to renounce his principles, +merely to favour Protestants to whom he was odious, in opposition to +a king who loved him. He had established a universal toleration +with regard to conscience in America, and would not have it thought +that he intended to destroy it in Europe, for which reason he adhered +so inviolably to King James, that a report prevailed universally of +his being a Jesuit. This calumny affected him very strongly, and +he was obliged to justify himself in print. However, the unfortunate +King James II., in whom, as in most princes of the Stuart family, grandeur +and weakness were equally blended, and who, like them, as much overdid +some things as he was short in others, lost his kingdom in a manner +that is hardly to be accounted for.</p> +<p>All the English sectarists accepted from William III, and his Parliament +the toleration and indulgence which they had refused when offered by +King James. It was then the Quakers began to enjoy, by virtue +of the laws, the several privileges they possess at this time. +Penn having at last seen Quakerism firmly established in his native +country, went back to Pennsylvania. His own people and the Americans +received him with tears of joy, as though he had been a father who was +returned to visit his children. All the laws had been religiously +observed in his absence, a circumstance in which no legislator had ever +been happy but himself. After having resided some years in Pennsylvania +he left it, but with great reluctance, in order to return to England, +there to solicit some matters in favour of the commerce of Pennsylvania. +But he never saw it again, he dying in Ruscombe, in Berkshire, in 1718.</p> +<p>I am not able to guess what fate Quakerism may have in America, but +I perceive it dwindles away daily in England. In all countries +where liberty of conscience is allowed, the established religion will +at last swallow up all the rest. Quakers are disqualified from +being members of Parliament; nor can they enjoy any post or preferment, +because an oath must always be taken on these occasions, and they never +swear. They are therefore reduced to the necessity of subsisting +upon traffic. Their children, whom the industry of their parents +has enriched, are desirous of enjoying honours, of wearing buttons and +ruffles; and quite ashamed of being called Quakers they become converts +to the Church of England, merely to be in the fashion.</p> +<h3>LETTER V.—ON THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND</h3> +<p>England is properly the country of sectarists. <i>Multæ +sunt mansiones in domo patris mei</i> (in my Father’s house are +many mansions). An Englishman, as one to whom liberty is natural, +may go to heaven his own way.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, though every one is permitted to serve God in whatever +mode or fashion he thinks proper, yet their true religion, that in which +a man makes his fortune, is the sect of Episcopalians or Churchmen, +called the Church of England, or simply the Church, by way of eminence. +No person can possess an employment either in England or Ireland unless +he be ranked among the faithful, that is, professes himself a member +of the Church of England. This reason (which carries mathematical +evidence with it) has converted such numbers of Dissenters of all persuasions, +that not a twentieth part of the nation is out of the pale of the Established +Church. The English clergy have retained a great number of the +Romish ceremonies, and especially that of receiving, with a most scrupulous +attention, their tithes. They also have the pious ambition to +aim at superiority.</p> +<p>Moreover, they inspire very religiously their flock with a holy zeal +against Dissenters of all denominations. This zeal was pretty +violent under the Tories in the four last years of Queen Anne; but was +productive of no greater mischief than the breaking the windows of some +meeting-houses and the demolishing of a few of them. For religious +rage ceased in England with the civil wars, and was no more under Queen +Anne than the hollow noise of a sea whose billows still heaved, though +so long after the storm when the Whigs and Tories laid waste their native +country, in the same manner as the Guelphs and Ghibelins formerly did +theirs. It was absolutely necessary for both parties to call in +religion on this occasion; the Tories declared for Episcopacy, and the +Whigs, as some imagined, were for abolishing it; however, after these +had got the upper hand, they contented themselves with only abridging +it.</p> +<p>At the time when the Earl of Oxford and the Lord Bolingbroke used +to drink healths to the Tories, the Church of England considered those +noblemen as the defenders of its holy privileges. The lower House +of Convocation (a kind of House of Commons) composed wholly of the clergy, +was in some credit at that time; at least the members of it had the +liberty to meet, to dispute on ecclesiastical matters, to sentence impious +books from time to time to the flames, that is, books written against +themselves. The Ministry which is now composed of Whigs does not +so much as allow those gentlemen to assemble, so that they are at this +time reduced (in the obscurity of their respective parishes) to the +melancholy occupation of praying for the prosperity of the Government +whose tranquillity they would willingly disturb. With regard to +the bishops, who are twenty-six in all, they still have seats in the +House of Lords in spite of the Whigs, because the ancient abuse of considering +them as barons subsists to this day. There is a clause, however, +in the oath which the Government requires from these gentlemen, that +puts their Christian patience to a very great trial, viz., that they +shall be of the Church of England as by law established. There +are few bishops, deans, or other dignitaries, but imagine they are so +<i>jure divino</i>; it is consequently a great mortification to them +to be obliged to confess that they owe their dignity to a pitiful law +enacted by a set of profane laymen. A learned monk (Father Courayer) +wrote a book lately to prove the validity and succession of English +ordinations. This book was forbid in France, but do you believe +that the English Ministry were pleased with it? Far from it. +Those wicked Whigs don’t care a straw whether the episcopal succession +among them hath been interrupted or not, or whether Bishop Parker was +consecrated (as it is pretended) in a tavern or a church; for these +Whigs are much better pleased that the Bishops should derive their authority +from the Parliament than from the Apostles. The Lord Bolingbroke +observed that this notion of divine right would only make so many tyrants +in lawn sleeves, but that the laws made so many citizens.</p> +<p>With regard to the morals of the English clergy, they are more regular +than those of France, and for this reason. All the clergy (a very +few excepted) are educated in the Universities of Oxford or Cambridge, +far from the depravity and corruption which reign in the capital. +They are not called to dignities till very late, at a time of life when +men are sensible of no other passion but avarice, that is, when their +ambition craves a supply. Employments are here bestowed both in +the Church and the army, as a reward for long services; and we never +see youngsters made bishops or colonels immediately upon their laying +aside the academical gown; and besides most of the clergy are married. +The stiff and awkward air contracted by them at the University, and +the little familiarity the men of this country have with the ladies, +commonly oblige a bishop to confine himself to, and rest contented with, +his own. Clergymen sometimes take a glass at the tavern, custom +giving them a sanction on this occasion; and if they fuddle themselves +it is in a very serious manner, and without giving the least scandal.</p> +<p>That fable-mixed kind of mortal (not to be defined), who is neither +of the clergy nor of the laity; in a word, the thing called <i>Abbé</i> +in France; is a species quite unknown in England. All the clergy +here are very much upon the reserve, and most of them pedants. +When these are told that in France young fellows famous for their dissoluteness, +and raised to the highest dignities of the Church by female intrigues, +address the fair publicly in an amorous way, amuse themselves in writing +tender love songs, entertain their friends very splendidly every night +at their own houses, and after the banquet is ended withdraw to invoke +the assistance of the Holy Ghost, and call themselves boldly the successors +of the Apostles, they bless God for their being Protestants. But +these are shameless heretics, who deserve to be blown hence through +the flames to old Nick, as Rabelais says, and for this reason I do not +trouble myself about them.</p> +<h3>LETTER VI.—ON THE PRESBYTERIANS</h3> +<p>The Church of England is confined almost to the kingdom whence it +received its name, and to Ireland, for Presbyterianism is the established +religion in Scotland. This Presbyterianism is directly the same +with Calvinism, as it was established in France, and is now professed +at Geneva. As the priests of this sect receive but very inconsiderable +stipends from their churches, and consequently cannot emulate the splendid +luxury of bishops, they exclaim very naturally against honours which +they can never attain to. Figure to yourself the haughty Diogenes +trampling under foot the pride of Plato. The Scotch Presbyterians +are not very unlike that proud though tattered reasoner. Diogenes +did not use Alexander half so impertinently as these treated King Charles +II.; for when they took up arms in his cause in opposition to Oliver, +who had deceived them, they forced that poor monarch to undergo the +hearing of three or four sermons every day, would not suffer him to +play, reduced him to a state of penitence and mortification, so that +Charles soon grew sick of these pedants, and accordingly eloped from +them with as much joy as a youth does from school.</p> +<p>A Church of England minister appears as another Cato in presence +of a juvenile, sprightly French graduate, who bawls for a whole morning +together in the divinity schools, and hums a song in chorus with ladies +in the evening; but this Cato is a very spark when before a Scotch Presbyterian. +The latter affects a serious gait, puts on a sour look, wears a vastly +broad-brimmed hat and a long cloak over a very short coat, preaches +through the nose, and gives the name of the whore of Babylon to all +churches where the ministers are so fortunate as to enjoy an annual +revenue of five or six thousand pounds, and where the people are weak +enough to suffer this, and to give them the titles of my lord, your +lordship, or your eminence.</p> +<p>These gentlemen, who have also some churches in England, introduced +there the mode of grave and severe exhortations. To them is owing +the sanctification of Sunday in the three kingdoms. People are +there forbidden to work or take any recreation on that day, in which +the severity is twice as great as that of the Romish Church. No +operas, plays, or concerts are allowed in London on Sundays, and even +cards are so expressly forbidden that none but persons of quality, and +those we call the genteel, play on that day; the rest of the nation +go either to church, to the tavern, or to see their mistresses.</p> +<p>Though the Episcopal and Presbyterian sects are the two prevailing +ones in Great Britain, yet all others are very welcome to come and settle +in it, and live very sociably together, though most of their preachers +hate one another almost as cordially as a Jansenist damns a Jesuit.</p> +<p>Take a view of the Royal Exchange in London, a place more venerable +than many courts of justice, where the representatives of all nations +meet for the benefit of mankind. There the Jew, the Mahometan, +and the Christian transact together, as though they all professed the +same religion, and give the name of infidel to none but bankrupts. +There the Presbyterian confides in the Anabaptist, and the Churchman +depends on the Quaker’s word.</p> +<p>If one religion only were allowed in England, the Government would +very possibly become arbitrary; if there were but two, the people would +cut one another’s throats; but as there are such a multitude, +they all live happy and in peace.</p> +<h3>LETTER VII.—ON THE SOCINIANS, OR ARIANS, OR ANTITRINITARIANS</h3> +<p>There is a little sect here composed of clergymen, and of a few very +learned persons among the laity, who, though they do not call themselves +Arians or Socinians, do yet dissent entirely from St. Athanasius with +regard to their notions of the Trinity, and declare very frankly that +the Father is greater than the Son.</p> +<p>Do you remember what is related of a certain orthodox bishop, who, +in order to convince an emperor of the reality of consubstantiation, +put his hand under the chin of the monarch’s son, and took him +by the nose in presence of his sacred majesty? The emperor was +going to order his attendants to throw the bishop out of the window, +when the good old man gave him this handsome and convincing reason: +“Since your majesty,” says he, “is angry when your +son has not due respect shown him, what punishment do you think will +God the Father inflict on those who refuse His Son Jesus the titles +due to Him?” The persons I just now mentioned declare that +the holy bishop took a very wrong step, that his argument was inconclusive, +and that the emperor should have answered him thus: “Know that +there are two ways by which men may be wanting in respect to me—first, +in not doing honour sufficient to my son; and, secondly, in paying him +the same honour as to me.”</p> +<p>Be this as it will, the principles of Arius begin to revive, not +only in England, but in Holland and Poland. The celebrated Sir +Isaac Newton honoured this opinion so far as to countenance it. +This philosopher thought that the Unitarians argued more mathematically +than we do. But the most sanguine stickler for Arianism is the +illustrious Dr. Clark. This man is rigidly virtuous, and of a +mild disposition, is more fond of his tenets than desirous of propagating +them, and absorbed so entirely in problems and calculations that he +is a mere reasoning machine.</p> +<p>It is he who wrote a book which is much esteemed and little understood, +on the existence of God, and another, more intelligible, but pretty +much contemned, on the truth of the Christian religion.</p> +<p>He never engaged in scholastic disputes, which our friend calls venerable +trifles. He only published a work containing all the testimonies +of the primitive ages for and against the Unitarians, and leaves to +the reader the counting of the voices and the liberty of forming a judgment. +This book won the doctor a great number of partisans, and lost him the +See of Canterbury; but, in my humble opinion, he was out in his calculation, +and had better have been Primate of all England than merely an Arian +parson.</p> +<p>You see that opinions are subject to revolutions as well as empires. +Arianism, after having triumphed during three centuries, and been forgot +twelve, rises at last out of its own ashes; but it has chosen a very +improper season to make its appearance in, the present age being quite +cloyed with disputes and sects. The members of this sect are, +besides, too few to be indulged the liberty of holding public assemblies, +which, however, they will, doubtless, be permitted to do in case they +spread considerably. But people are now so very cold with respect +to all things of this kind, that there is little probability any new +religion, or old one, that may be revived, will meet with favour. +Is it not whimsical enough that Luther, Calvin, and Zuinglius, all of +them wretched authors, should have founded sects which are now spread +over a great part of Europe, that Mahomet, though so ignorant, should +have given a religion to Asia and Africa, and that Sir Isaac Newton, +Dr. Clark, Mr. Locke, Mr. Le Clerc, etc., the greatest philosophers, +as well as the ablest writers of their ages, should scarcely have been +able to raise a little flock, which even decreases daily.</p> +<p>This it is to be born at a proper period of time. Were Cardinal +de Retz to return again into the world, neither his eloquence nor his +intrigues would draw together ten women in Paris.</p> +<p>Were Oliver Cromwell, he who beheaded his sovereign, and seized upon +the kingly dignity, to rise from the dead, he would be a wealthy City +trader, and no more.</p> +<h3>LETTER VIII.—ON THE PARLIAMENT</h3> +<p>The members of the English Parliament are fond of comparing themselves +to the old Romans.</p> +<p>Not long since Mr. Shippen opened a speech in the House of Commons +with these words, “The majesty of the people of England would +be wounded.” The singularity of the expression occasioned +a loud laugh; but this gentleman, so far from being disconcerted, repeated +the same words with a resolute tone of voice, and the laugh ceased. +In my opinion, the majesty of the people of England has nothing in common +with that of the people of Rome, much less is there any affinity between +their Governments. There is in London a senate, some of the members +whereof are accused (doubtless very unjustly) of selling their voices +on certain occasions, as was done in Rome; this is the only resemblance. +Besides, the two nations appear to me quite opposite in character, with +regard both to good and evil. The Romans never knew the dreadful +folly of religious wars, an abomination reserved for devout preachers +of patience and humility. Marius and Sylla, Cæsar and Pompey, +Anthony and Augustus, did not draw their swords and set the world in +a blaze merely to determine whether the flamen should wear his shirt +over his robe, or his robe over his shirt, or whether the sacred chickens +should eat and drink, or eat only, in order to take the augury. +The English have hanged one another by law, and cut one another to pieces +in pitched battles, for quarrels of as trifling a nature. The +sects of the Episcopalians and Presbyterians quite distracted these +very serious heads for a time. But I fancy they will hardly ever +be so silly again, they seeming to be grown wiser at their own expense; +and I do not perceive the least inclination in them to murder one another +merely about syllogisms, as some zealots among them once did.</p> +<p>But here follows a more essential difference between Rome and England, +which gives the advantage entirely to the latter—viz., that the +civil wars of Rome ended in slavery, and those of the English in liberty. +The English are the only people upon earth who have been able to prescribe +limits to the power of kings by resisting them; and who, by a series +of struggles, have at last established that wise Government where the +Prince is all-powerful to do good, and, at the same time, is restrained +from committing evil; where the nobles are great without insolence, +though there are no vassals; and where the people share in the Government +without confusion.</p> +<p>The House of Lords and that of the Commons divide the legislative +power under the king, but the Romans had no such balance. The +patricians and plebeians in Rome were perpetually at variance, and there +was no intermediate power to reconcile them. The Roman senate, +who were so unjustly, so criminally proud as not to suffer the plebeians +to share with them in anything, could find no other artifice to keep +the latter out of the administration than by employing them in foreign +wars. They considered the plebeians as a wild beast, whom it behoved +them to let loose upon their neighbours, for fear they should devour +their masters. Thus the greatest defect in the Government of the +Romans raised them to be conquerors. By being unhappy at home, +they triumphed over and possessed themselves of the world, till at last +their divisions sunk them to slavery.</p> +<p>The Government of England will never rise to so exalted a pitch of +glory, nor will its end be so fatal. The English are not fired +with the splendid folly of making conquests, but would only prevent +their neighbours from conquering. They are not only jealous of +their own liberty, but even of that of other nations. The English +were exasperated against Louis XIV. for no other reason but because +he was ambitious, and declared war against him merely out of levity, +not from any interested motives.</p> +<p>The English have doubtless purchased their liberties at a very high +price, and waded through seas of blood to drown the idol of arbitrary +power. Other nations have been involved in as great calamities, +and have shed as much blood; but then the blood they spilt in defence +of their liberties only enslaved them the more.</p> +<p>That which rises to a revolution in England is no more than a sedition +in other countries. A city in Spain, in Barbary, or in Turkey, +takes up arms in defence of its privileges, when immediately it is stormed +by mercenary troops, it is punished by executioners, and the rest of +the nation kiss the chains they are loaded with. The French are +of opinion that the government of this island is more tempestuous than +the sea which surrounds it, which indeed is true; but then it is never +so but when the king raises the storm—when he attempts to seize +the ship of which he is only the chief pilot. The civil wars of +France lasted longer, were more cruel, and productive of greater evils +than those of England; but none of these civil wars had a wise and prudent +liberty for their object.</p> +<p>In the detestable reigns of Charles IX. and Henry III. the whole +affair was only whether the people should be slaves to the Guises. +With regard to the last war of Paris, it deserves only to be hooted +at. Methinks I see a crowd of schoolboys rising up in arms against +their master, and afterwards whipped for it. Cardinal de Retz, +who was witty and brave (but to no purpose), rebellious without a cause, +factious without design, and head of a defenceless party, caballed for +caballing sake, and seemed to foment the civil war merely out of diversion. +The Parliament did not know what he intended, nor what he did not intend. +He levied troops by Act of Parliament, and the next moment cashiered +them. He threatened, he begged pardon; he set a price upon Cardinal +Mazarin’s head, and afterwards congratulated him in a public manner. +Our civil wars under Charles VI. were bloody and cruel, those of the +League execrable, and that of the Frondeurs ridiculous.</p> +<p>That for which the French chiefly reproach the English nation is +the murder of King Charles I., whom his subjects treated exactly as +he would have treated them had his reign been prosperous. After +all, consider on one side Charles I., defeated in a pitched battle, +imprisoned, tried, sentenced to die in Westminster Hall, and then beheaded. +And on the other, the Emperor Henry VII., poisoned by his chaplain at +his receiving the Sacrament; Henry III. stabbed by a monk; thirty assassinations +projected against Henry IV., several of them put in execution, and the +last bereaving that great monarch of his life. Weigh, I say, all +these wicked attempts, and then judge.</p> +<h3>LETTER IX.—ON THE GOVERNMENT</h3> +<p>That mixture in the English Government, that harmony between King, +Lords, and commons, did not always subsist. England was enslaved +for a long series of years by the Romans, the Saxons, the Danes, and +the French successively. William the Conqueror particularly, ruled +them with a rod of iron. He disposed as absolutely of the lives +and fortunes of his conquered subjects as an eastern monarch; and forbade, +upon pain of death, the English either fire or candle in their houses +after eight o’clock; whether was this to prevent their nocturnal +meetings, or only to try, by an odd and whimsical prohibition, how far +it was possible for one man to extend his power over his fellow-creatures. +It is true, indeed, that the English had Parliaments before and after +William the Conqueror, and they boast of them, as though these assemblies +then called Parliaments, composed of ecclesiastical tyrants and of plunderers +entitled barons, had been the guardians of the public liberty and happiness.</p> +<p>The barbarians who came from the shores of the Baltic, and settled +in the rest of Europe, brought with them the form of government called +States or Parliaments, about which so much noise is made, and which +are so little understood. Kings, indeed, were not absolute in +those days; but then the people were more wretched upon that very account, +and more completely enslaved. The chiefs of these savages, who +had laid waste France, Italy, Spain, and England, made themselves monarchs. +Their generals divided among themselves the several countries they had +conquered, whence sprung those margraves, those peers, those barons, +those petty tyrants, who often contested with their sovereigns for the +spoils of whole nations. These were birds of prey fighting with +an eagle for doves whose blood the victorious was to suck. Every +nation, instead of being governed by one master, was trampled upon by +a hundred tyrants. The priests soon played a part among them. +Before this it had been the fate of the Gauls, the Germans, and the +Britons, to be always governed by their Druids and the chiefs of their +villages, an ancient kind of barons, not so tyrannical as their successors. +These Druids pretended to be mediators between God and man. They +enacted laws, they fulminated their excommunications, and sentenced +to death. The bishops succeeded, by insensible degrees, to their +temporal authority in the Goth and Vandal government. The popes +set themselves at their head, and armed with their briefs, their bulls, +and reinforced by monks, they made even kings tremble, deposed and assassinated +them at pleasure, and employed every artifice to draw into their own +purses moneys from all parts of Europe. The weak Ina, one of the +tyrants of the Saxon Heptarchy in England, was the first monarch who +submitted, in his pilgrimage to Rome, to pay St. Peter’s penny +(equivalent very near to a French crown) for every house in his dominions. +The whole island soon followed his example; England became insensibly +one of the Pope’s provinces, and the Holy Father used to send +from time to time his legates thither to levy exorbitant taxes. +At last King John delivered up by a public instrument the kingdom of +England to the Pope, who had excommunicated him; but the barons, not +finding their account in this resignation, dethroned the wretched King +John and seated Louis, father to St. Louis, King of France, in his place. +However, they were soon weary of their new monarch, and accordingly +obliged him to return to France.</p> +<p>Whilst that the barons, the bishops, and the popes, all laid waste +England, where all were for ruling the most numerous, the most useful, +even the most virtuous, and consequently the most venerable part of +mankind, consisting of those who study the laws and the sciences, of +traders, of artificers, in a word, of all who were not tyrants—that +is, those who are called the people: these, I say, were by them looked +upon as so many animals beneath the dignity of the human species. +The Commons in those ages were far from sharing in the government, they +being villains or peasants, whose labour, whose blood, were the property +of their masters who entitled themselves the nobility. The major +part of men in Europe were at that time what they are to this day in +several parts of the world—they were villains or bondsmen of lords—that +is, a kind of cattle bought and sold with the land. Many ages +passed away before justice could be done to human nature—before +mankind were conscious that it was abominable for many to sow, and but +few reap. And was not France very happy, when the power and authority +of those petty robbers was abolished by the lawful authority of kings +and of the people?</p> +<p>Happily, in the violent shocks which the divisions between kings +and the nobles gave to empires, the chains of nations were more or less +heavy. Liberty in England sprang from the quarrels of tyrants. +The barons forced King John and King Henry III. to grant the famous +Magna Charta, the chief design of which was indeed to make kings dependent +on the Lords; but then the rest of the nation were a little favoured +in it, in order that they might join on proper occasions with their +pretended masters. This great Charter, which is considered as +the sacred origin of the English liberties, shows in itself how little +liberty was known.</p> +<p>The title alone proves that the king thought he had a just right +to be absolute; and that the barons, and even the clergy, forced him +to give up the pretended right, for no other reason but because they +were the most powerful.</p> +<p>Magna Charta begins in this style: “We grant, of our own free +will, the following privileges to the archbishops, bishops, priors, +and barons of our kingdom,” etc.</p> +<p>The House of Commons is not once mentioned in the articles of this +Charter—a proof that it did not yet exist, or that it existed +without power. Mention is therein made, by name, of the freemen +of England—a melancholy proof that some were not so. It +appears, by Article XXXII., that these pretended freemen owed service +to their lords. Such a liberty as this was not many removes from +slavery.</p> +<p>By Article XXI., the king ordains that his officers shall not henceforward +seize upon, unless they pay for them, the horses and carts of freemen. +The people considered this ordinance as a real liberty, though it was +a greater tyranny. Henry VII., that happy usurper and great politician, +who pretended to love the barons, though he in reality hated and feared +them, got their lands alienated. By this means the villains, afterwards +acquiring riches by their industry, purchased the estates and country +seats of the illustrious peers who had ruined themselves by their folly +and extravagance, and all the lands got by insensible degrees into other +hands.</p> +<p>The power of the House of Commons increased every day. The +families of the ancient peers were at last extinct; and as peers only +are properly noble in England, there would be no such thing in strictness +of law as nobility in that island, had not the kings created new barons +from time to time, and preserved the body of peers, once a terror to +them, to oppose them to the Commons, since become so formidable.</p> +<p>All these new peers who compose the Higher House receive nothing +but their titles from the king, and very few of them have estates in +those places whence they take their titles. One shall be Duke +of D-, though he has not a foot of land in Dorsetshire; and another +is Earl of a village, though he scarce knows where it is situated. +The peers have power, but it is only in the Parliament House.</p> +<p>There is no such thing here as <i>haute</i>, <i>moyenne</i>, and +<i>basse justice</i>—that is, a power to judge in all matters +civil and criminal; nor a right or privilege of hunting in the grounds +of a citizen, who at the same time is not permitted to fire a gun in +his own field.</p> +<p>No one is exempted in this country from paying certain taxes because +he is a nobleman or a priest. All duties and taxes are settled +by the House of Commons, whose power is greater than that of the Peers, +though inferior to it in dignity. The spiritual as well as temporal +Lords have the liberty to reject a Money Bill brought in by the Commons; +but they are not allowed to alter anything in it, and must either pass +or throw it out without restriction. When the Bill has passed +the Lords and is signed by the king, then the whole nation pays, every +man in proportion to his revenue or estate, not according to his title, +which would be absurd. There is no such thing as an arbitrary +subsidy or poll-tax, but a real tax on the lands, of all which an estimate +was made in the reign of the famous King William III.</p> +<p>The land-tax continues still upon the same foot, though the revenue +of the lands is increased. Thus no one is tyrannised over, and +every one is easy. The feet of the peasants are not bruised by +wooden shoes; they eat white bread, are well clothed, and are not afraid +of increasing their stock of cattle, nor of tiling their houses, from +any apprehension that their taxes will be raised the year following. +The annual income of the estates of a great many commoners in England +amounts to two hundred thousand livres, and yet these do not think it +beneath them to plough the lands which enrich them, and on which they +enjoy their liberty.</p> +<h3>LETTER X.—ON TRADE</h3> +<p>As trade enriched the citizens in England, so it contributed to their +freedom, and this freedom on the other side extended their commerce, +whence arose the grandeur of the State. Trade raised by insensible +degrees the naval power, which gives the English a superiority over +the seas, and they now are masters of very near two hundred ships of +war. Posterity will very probably be surprised to hear that an +island whose only produce is a little lead, tin, fuller’s-earth, +and coarse wool, should become so powerful by its commerce, as to be +able to send, in 1723, three fleets at the same time to three different +and far distanced parts of the globe. One before Gibraltar, conquered +and still possessed by the English; a second to Portobello, to dispossess +the King of Spain of the treasures of the West Indies; and a third into +the Baltic, to prevent the Northern Powers from coming to an engagement.</p> +<p>At the time when Louis XIV. made all Italy tremble, and that his +armies, which had already possessed themselves of Savoy and Piedmont, +were upon the point of taking Turin; Prince Eugene was obliged to march +from the middle of Germany in order to succour Savoy. Having no +money, without which cities cannot be either taken or defended, he addressed +himself to some English merchants. These, at an hour and half’s +warning, lent him five millions, whereby he was enabled to deliver Turin, +and to beat the French; after which he wrote the following short letter +to the persons who had disbursed him the above-mentioned sums: “Gentlemen, +I have received your money, and flatter myself that I have laid it out +to your satisfaction.” Such a circumstance as this raises +a just pride in an English merchant, and makes him presume (not without +some reason) to compare himself to a Roman citizen; and, indeed, a peer’s +brother does not think traffic beneath him. When the Lord Townshend +was Minister of State, a brother of his was content to be a City merchant; +and at the time that the Earl of Oxford governed Great Britain, a younger +brother was no more than a factor in Aleppo, where he chose to live, +and where he died. This custom, which begins, however, to be laid +aside, appears monstrous to Germans, vainly puffed up with their extraction. +These think it morally impossible that the son of an English peer should +be no more than a rich and powerful citizen, for all are princes in +Germany. There have been thirty highnesses of the same name, all +whose patrimony consisted only in their escutcheons and their pride.</p> +<p>In France the title of marquis is given gratis to any one who will +accept of it; and whosoever arrives at Paris from the midst of the most +remote provinces with money in his purse, and a name terminating in +<i>ac</i> or <i>ille</i>, may strut about, and cry, “Such a man +as I! A man of my rank and figure!” and may look down upon +a trader with sovereign contempt; whilst the trader on the other side, +by thus often hearing his profession treated so disdainfully, is fool +enough to blush at it. However, I need not say which is most useful +to a nation; a lord, powdered in the tip of the mode, who knows exactly +at what o’clock the king rises and goes to bed, and who gives +himself airs of grandeur and state, at the same time that he is acting +the slave in the ante-chamber of a prime minister; or a merchant, who +enriches his country, despatches orders from his counting-house to Surat +and Grand Cairo, and contributes to the well-being of the world.</p> +<h3>LETTER XI.—ON INOCULATION</h3> +<p>It is inadvertently affirmed in the Christian countries of Europe +that the English are fools and madmen. Fools, because they give +their children the small-pox to prevent their catching it; and madmen, +because they wantonly communicate a certain and dreadful distemper to +their children, merely to prevent an uncertain evil. The English, +on the other side, call the rest of the Europeans cowardly and unnatural. +Cowardly, because they are afraid of putting their children to a little +pain; unnatural, because they expose them to die one time or other of +the small-pox. But that the reader may be able to judge whether +the English or those who differ from them in opinion are in the right, +here follows the history of the famed inoculation, which is mentioned +with so much dread in France.</p> +<p>The Circassian women have, from time immemorial, communicated the +small-pox to their children when not above six months old by making +an incision in the arm, and by putting into this incision a pustule, +taken carefully from the body of another child. This pustule produces +the same effect in the arm it is laid in as yeast in a piece of dough; +it ferments, and diffuses through the whole mass of blood the qualities +with which it is impregnated. The pustules of the child in whom +the artificial small-pox has been thus inoculated are employed to communicate +the same distemper to others. There is an almost perpetual circulation +of it in Circassia; and when unhappily the small-pox has quite left +the country, the inhabitants of it are in as great trouble and perplexity +as other nations when their harvest has fallen short.</p> +<p>The circumstance that introduced a custom in Circassia, which appears +so singular to others, is nevertheless a cause common to all nations, +I mean maternal tenderness and interest.</p> +<p>The Circassians are poor, and their daughters are beautiful, and +indeed, it is in them they chiefly trade. They furnish with beauties +the seraglios of the Turkish Sultan, of the Persian Sophy, and of all +those who are wealthy enough to purchase and maintain such precious +merchandise. These maidens are very honourably and virtuously +instructed to fondle and caress men; are taught dances of a very polite +and effeminate kind; and how to heighten by the most voluptuous artifices +the pleasures of their disdainful masters for whom they are designed. +These unhappy creatures repeat their lesson to their mothers, in the +same manner as little girls among us repeat their catechism without +understanding one word they say.</p> +<p>Now it often happened that, after a father and mother had taken the +utmost care of the education of their children, they were frustrated +of all their hopes in an instant. The small-pox getting into the +family, one daughter died of it, another lost an eye, a third had a +great nose at her recovery, and the unhappy parents were completely +ruined. Even, frequently, when the small-pox became epidemical, +trade was suspended for several years, which thinned very considerably +the seraglios of Persia and Turkey.</p> +<p>A trading nation is always watchful over its own interests, and grasps +at every discovery that may be of advantage to its commerce. The +Circassians observed that scarce one person in a thousand was ever attacked +by a small-pox of a violent kind. That some, indeed, had this +distemper very favourably three or four times, but never twice so as +to prove fatal; in a word, that no one ever had it in a violent degree +twice in his life. They observed farther, that when the small-pox +is of the milder sort, and the pustules have only a tender, delicate +skin to break through, they never leave the least scar in the face. +From these natural observations they concluded, that in case an infant +of six months or a year old should have a milder sort of small-pox, +he would not die of it, would not be marked, nor be ever afflicted with +it again.</p> +<p>In order, therefore, to preserve the life and beauty of their children, +the only thing remaining was to give them the small-pox in their infant +years. This they did by inoculating in the body of a child a pustule +taken from the most regular and at the same time the most favourable +sort of small-pox that could be procured.</p> +<p>The experiment could not possibly fail. The Turks, who are +people of good sense, soon adopted this custom, insomuch that at this +time there is not a bassa in Constantinople but communicates the small-pox +to his children of both sexes immediately upon their being weaned.</p> +<p>Some pretend that the Circassians borrowed this custom anciently +from the Arabians; but we shall leave the clearing up of this point +of history to some learned Benedictine, who will not fail to compile +a great many folios on this subject, with the several proofs or authorities. +All I have to say upon it is that, in the beginning of the reign of +King George I., the Lady Wortley Montague, a woman of as fine a genius, +and endued with as great a strength of mind, as any of her sex in the +British Kingdoms, being with her husband, who was ambassador at the +Porte, made no scruple to communicate the small-pox to an infant of +which she was delivered in Constantinople. The chaplain represented +to his lady, but to no purpose, that this was an unchristian operation, +and therefore that it could succeed with none but infidels. However, +it had the most happy effect upon the son of the Lady Wortley Montague, +who, at her return to England, communicated the experiment to the Princess +of Wales, now Queen of England. It must be confessed that this +princess, abstracted from her crown and titles, was born to encourage +the whole circle of arts, and to do good to mankind. She appears +as an amiable philosopher on the throne, having never let slip one opportunity +of improving the great talents she received from Nature, nor of exerting +her beneficence. It is she who, being informed that a daughter +of Milton was living, but in miserable circumstances, immediately sent +her a considerable present. It is she who protects the learned +Father Courayer. It is she who condescended to attempt a reconciliation +between Dr. Clark and Mr. Leibnitz. The moment this princess heard +of inoculation, she caused an experiment of it to be made on four criminals +sentenced to die, and by that means preserved their lives doubly; for +she not only saved them from the gallows, but by means of this artificial +small-pox prevented their ever having that distemper in a natural way, +with which they would very probably have been attacked one time or other, +and might have died of in a more advanced age.</p> +<p>The princess being assured of the usefulness of this operation, caused +her own children to be inoculated. A great part of the kingdom +followed her example, and since that time ten thousand children, at +least, of persons of condition owe in this manner their lives to her +Majesty and to the Lady Wortley Montague; and as many of the fair sex +are obliged to them for their beauty.</p> +<p>Upon a general calculation, threescore persons in every hundred have +the small-pox. Of these threescore, twenty die of it in the most +favourable season of life, and as many more wear the disagreeable remains +of it in their faces so long as they live. Thus, a fifth part +of mankind either die or are disfigured by this distemper. But +it does not prove fatal to so much as one among those who are inoculated +in Turkey or in England, unless the patient be infirm, or would have +died had not the experiment been made upon him. Besides, no one +is disfigured, no one has the small-pox a second time, if the inoculation +was perfect. It is therefore certain, that had the lady of some +French ambassador brought this secret from Constantinople to Paris, +the nation would have been for ever obliged to her. Then the Duke +de Villequier, father to the Duke d’Aumont, who enjoys the most +vigorous constitution, and is the healthiest man in France, would not +have been cut off in the flower of his age.</p> +<p>The Prince of Soubise, happy in the finest flush of health, would +not have been snatched away at five-and-twenty, nor the Dauphin, grandfather +to Louis XV., have been laid in his grave in his fiftieth year. +Twenty thousand persons whom the small-pox swept away at Paris in 1723 +would have been alive at this time. But are not the French fond +of life, and is beauty so inconsiderable an advantage as to be disregarded +by the ladies? It must be confessed that we are an odd kind of +people. Perhaps our nation will imitate ten years hence this practice +of the English, if the clergy and the physicians will but give them +leave to do it; or possibly our countrymen may introduce inoculation +three months hence in France out of mere whim, in case the English should +discontinue it through fickleness.</p> +<p>I am informed that the Chinese have practised inoculation these hundred +years, a circumstance that argues very much in its favour, since they +are thought to be the wisest and best governed people in the world. +The Chinese, indeed, do not communicate this distemper by inoculation, +but at the nose, in the same manner as we take snuff. This is +a more agreeable way, but then it produces the like effects; and proves +at the same time that had inoculation been practised in France it would +have saved the lives of thousands.</p> +<h3>LETTER XII.—ON THE LORD BACON</h3> +<p>Not long since the trite and frivolous question following was debated +in a very polite and learned company, viz., Who was the greatest man, +Cæsar, Alexander, Tamerlane, Cromwell, &c.?</p> +<p>Somebody answered that Sir Isaac Newton excelled them all. +The gentleman’s assertion was very just; for if true greatness +consists in having received from heaven a mighty genius, and in having +employed it to enlighten our own mind and that of others, a man like +Sir Isaac Newton, whose equal is hardly found in a thousand years, is +the truly great man. And those politicians and conquerors (and +all ages produce some) were generally so many illustrious wicked men. +That man claims our respect who commands over the minds of the rest +of the world by the force of truth, not those who enslave their fellow-creatures: +he who is acquainted with the universe, not they who deface it.</p> +<p>Since, therefore, you desire me to give you an account of the famous +personages whom England has given birth to, I shall begin with Lord +Bacon, Mr. Locke, Sir Isaac Newton, &c. Afterwards the warriors +and Ministers of State shall come in their order.</p> +<p>I must begin with the celebrated Viscount Verulam, known in Europe +by the name of Bacon, which was that of his family. His father +had been Lord Keeper, and himself was a great many years Lord Chancellor +under King James I. Nevertheless, amidst the intrigues of a Court, +and the affairs of his exalted employment, which alone were enough to +engross his whole time, he yet found so much leisure for study as to +make himself a great philosopher, a good historian, and an elegant writer; +and a still more surprising circumstance is that he lived in an age +in which the art of writing justly and elegantly was little known, much +less true philosophy. Lord Bacon, as is the fate of man, was more +esteemed after his death than in his lifetime. His enemies were +in the British Court, and his admirers were foreigners.</p> +<p>When the Marquis d’Effiat attended in England upon the Princess +Henrietta Maria, daughter to Henry IV., whom King Charles I. had married, +that Minister went and visited the Lord Bacon, who, being at that time +sick in his bed, received him with the curtains shut close. “You +resemble the angels,” says the Marquis to him; “we hear +those beings spoken of perpetually, and we believe them superior to +men, but are never allowed the consolation to see them.”</p> +<p>You know that this great man was accused of a crime very unbecoming +a philosopher: I mean bribery and extortion. You know that he +was sentenced by the House of Lords to pay a fine of about four hundred +thousand French livres, to lose his peerage and his dignity of Chancellor; +but in the present age the English revere his memory to such a degree, +that they will scarce allow him to have been guilty. In case you +should ask what are my thoughts on this head, I shall answer you in +the words which I heard the Lord Bolingbroke use on another occasion. +Several gentlemen were speaking, in his company, of the avarice with +which the late Duke of Marlborough had been charged, some examples whereof +being given, the Lord Bolingbroke was appealed to (who, having been +in the opposite party, might perhaps, without the imputation of indecency, +have been allowed to clear up that matter): “He was so great a +man,” replied his lordship, “that I have forgot his vices.”</p> +<p>I shall therefore confine myself to those things which so justly +gained Lord Bacon the esteem of all Europe.</p> +<p>The most singular and the best of all his pieces is that which, at +this time, is the most useless and the least read, I mean his <i>Novum +Scientiarum Organum</i>. This is the scaffold with which the new +philosophy was raised; and when the edifice was built, part of it at +least, the scaffold was no longer of service.</p> +<p>The Lord Bacon was not yet acquainted with Nature, but then he knew, +and pointed out, the several paths that lead to it. He had despised +in his younger years the thing called philosophy in the Universities, +and did all that lay in his power to prevent those societies of men +instituted to improve human reason from depraving it by their quiddities, +their horrors of the vacuum, their substantial forms, and all those +impertinent terms which not only ignorance had rendered venerable, but +which had been made sacred by their being ridiculously blended with +religion.</p> +<p>He is the father of experimental philosophy. It must, indeed, +be confessed that very surprising secrets had been found out before +his time—the sea-compass, printing, engraving on copper plates, +oil-painting, looking-glasses; the art of restoring, in some measure, +old men to their sight by spectacles; gunpowder, &c., had been discovered. +A new world had been fought for, found, and conquered. Would not +one suppose that these sublime discoveries had been made by the greatest +philosophers, and in ages much more enlightened than the present? +But it was far otherwise; all these great changes happened in the most +stupid and barbarous times. Chance only gave birth to most of +those inventions; and it is very probable that what is called chance +contributed very much to the discovery of America; at least, it has +been always thought that Christopher Columbus undertook his voyage merely +on the relation of a captain of a ship which a storm had driven as far +westward as the Caribbean Islands. Be this as it will, men had +sailed round the world, and could destroy cities by an artificial thunder +more dreadful than the real one; but, then, they were not acquainted +with the circulation of the blood, the weight of the air, the laws of +motion, light, the number of our planets, &c. And a man who +maintained a thesis on Aristotle’s “Categories,” on +the universals <i>a parte rei</i>, or such-like nonsense, was looked +upon as a prodigy.</p> +<p>The most astonishing, the most useful inventions, are not those which +reflect the greatest honour on the human mind. It is to a mechanical +instinct, which is found in many men, and not to true philosophy, that +most arts owe their origin.</p> +<p>The discovery of fire, the art of making bread, of melting and preparing +metals, of building houses, and the invention of the shuttle, are infinitely +more beneficial to mankind than printing or the sea-compass: and yet +these arts were invented by uncultivated, savage men.</p> +<p>What a prodigious use the Greeks and Romans made afterwards of mechanics! +Nevertheless, they believed that there were crystal heavens, that the +stars were small lamps which sometimes fell into the sea, and one of +their greatest philosophers, after long researches, found that the stars +were so many flints which had been detached from the earth.</p> +<p>In a word, no one before the Lord Bacon was acquainted with experimental +philosophy, nor with the several physical experiments which have been +made since his time. Scarce one of them but is hinted at in his +work, and he himself had made several. He made a kind of pneumatic +engine, by which he guessed the elasticity of the air. He approached, +on all sides as it were, to the discovery of its weight, and had very +near attained it, but some time after Torricelli seized upon this truth. +In a little time experimental philosophy began to be cultivated on a +sudden in most parts of Europe. It was a hidden treasure which +the Lord Bacon had some notion of, and which all the philosophers, encouraged +by his promises, endeavoured to dig up.</p> +<p>But that which surprised me most was to read in his work, in express +terms, the new attraction, the invention of which is ascribed to Sir +Isaac Newton.</p> +<p>We must search, says Lord Bacon, whether there may not be a kind +of magnetic power which operates between the earth and heavy bodies, +between the moon and the ocean, between the planets, &c. In +another place he says either heavy bodies must be carried towards the +centre of the earth, or must be reciprocally attracted by it; and in +the latter case it is evident that the nearer bodies, in their falling, +draw towards the earth, the stronger they will attract one another. +We must, says he, make an experiment to see whether the same clock will +go faster on the top of a mountain or at the bottom of a mine; whether +the strength of the weights decreases on the mountain and increases +in the mine. It is probable that the earth has a true attractive +power.</p> +<p>This forerunner in philosophy was also an elegant writer, an historian, +and a wit.</p> +<p>His moral essays are greatly esteemed, but they were drawn up in +the view of instructing rather than of pleasing; and, as they are not +a satire upon mankind, like Rochefoucauld’s “Maxims,” +nor written upon a sceptical plan, like Montaigne’s “Essays,” +they are not so much read as those two ingenious authors.</p> +<p>His History of Henry VII. was looked upon as a masterpiece, but how +is it possible that some persons can presume to compare so little a +work with the history of our illustrious Thuanus?</p> +<p>Speaking about the famous impostor Perkin, son to a converted Jew, +who assumed boldly the name and title of Richard IV., King of England, +at the instigation of the Duchess of Burgundy, and who disputed the +crown with Henry VII., the Lord Bacon writes as follows:—</p> +<p>“At this time the King began again to be haunted with sprites, +by the magic and curious arts of the Lady Margaret, who raised up the +ghost of Richard, Duke of York, second son to King Edward IV., to walk +and vex the King.</p> +<p>“After such time as she (Margaret of Burgundy) thought he (Perkin +Warbeck) was perfect in his lesson, she began to cast with herself from +what coast this blazing star should first appear, and at what time it +must be upon the horizon of Ireland; for there had the like meteor strong +influence before.”</p> +<p>Methinks our sagacious Thuanus does not give in to such fustian, +which formerly was looked upon as sublime, but in this age is justly +called nonsense.</p> +<h3>LETTER XIII.—ON MR. LOCKE</h3> +<p>Perhaps no man ever had a more judicious or more methodical genius, +or was a more acute logician than Mr. Locke, and yet he was not deeply +skilled in the mathematics. This great man could never subject +himself to the tedious fatigue of calculations, nor to the dry pursuit +of mathematical truths, which do not at first present any sensible objects +to the mind; and no one has given better proofs than he, that it is +possible for a man to have a geometrical head without the assistance +of geometry. Before his time, several great philosophers had declared, +in the most positive terms, what the soul of man is; but as these absolutely +knew nothing about it, they might very well be allowed to differ entirely +in opinion from one another.</p> +<p>In Greece, the infant seat of arts and of errors, and where the grandeur +as well as folly of the human mind went such prodigious lengths, the +people used to reason about the soul in the very same manner as we do.</p> +<p>The divine Anaxagoras, in whose honour an altar was erected for his +having taught mankind that the sun was greater than Peloponnesus, that +snow was black, and that the heavens were of stone, affirmed that the +soul was an aërial spirit, but at the same time immortal. +Diogenes (not he who was a cynical philosopher after having coined base +money) declared that the soul was a portion of the substance of God: +an idea which we must confess was very sublime. Epicurus maintained +that it was composed of parts in the same manner as the body.</p> +<p>Aristotle, who has been explained a thousand ways, because he is +unintelligible, was of opinion, according to some of his disciples, +that the understanding in all men is one and the same substance.</p> +<p>The divine Plato, master of the divine Aristotle,—and the divine +Socrates, master of the divine Plato—used to say that the soul +was corporeal and eternal. No doubt but the demon of Socrates +had instructed him in the nature of it. Some people, indeed, pretend +that a man who boasted his being attended by a familiar genius must +infallibly be either a knave or a madman, but this kind of people are +seldom satisfied with anything but reason.</p> +<p>With regard to the Fathers of the Church, several in the primitive +ages believed that the soul was human, and the angels and God corporeal. +Men naturally improve upon every system. St. Bernard, as Father +Mabillon confesses, taught that the soul after death does not see God +in the celestial regions, but converses with Christ’s human nature +only. However, he was not believed this time on his bare word; +the adventure of the crusade having a little sunk the credit of his +oracles. Afterwards a thousand schoolmen arose, such as the Irrefragable +Doctor, the Subtile Doctor, the Angelic Doctor, the Seraphic Doctor, +and the Cherubic Doctor, who were all sure that they had a very clear +and distinct idea of the soul, and yet wrote in such a manner, that +one would conclude they were resolved no one should understand a word +in their writings. Our Descartes, born to discover the errors +of antiquity, and at the same time to substitute his own, and hurried +away by that systematic spirit which throws a cloud over the minds of +the greatest men, thought he had demonstrated that the soul is the same +thing as thought, in the same manner as matter, in his opinion, is the +same as extension. He asserted, that man thinks eternally, and +that the soul, at its coming into the body, is informed with the whole +series of metaphysical notions: knowing God, infinite space, possessing +all abstract ideas—in a word, completely endued with the most +sublime lights, which it unhappily forgets at its issuing from the womb.</p> +<p>Father Malebranche, in his sublime illusions, not only admitted innate +ideas, but did not doubt of our living wholly in God, and that God is, +as it were, our soul.</p> +<p>Such a multitude of reasoners having written the romance of the soul, +a sage at last arose, who gave, with an air of the greatest modesty, +the history of it. Mr. Locke has displayed the human soul in the +same manner as an excellent anatomist explains the springs of the human +body. He everywhere takes the light of physics for his guide. +He sometimes presumes to speak affirmatively, but then he presumes also +to doubt. Instead of concluding at once what we know not, he examines +gradually what we would know. He takes an infant at the instant +of his birth; he traces, step by step, the progress of his understanding; +examines what things he has in common with beasts, and what he possesses +above them. Above all, he consults himself: the being conscious +that he himself thinks.</p> +<p>“I shall leave,” says he, “to those who know more +of this matter than myself, the examining whether the soul exists before +or after the organisation of our bodies. But I confess that it +is my lot to be animated with one of those heavy souls which do not +think always; and I am even so unhappy as not to conceive that it is +more necessary the soul should think perpetually than that bodies should +be for ever in motion.”</p> +<p>With regard to myself, I shall boast that I have the honour to be +as stupid in this particular as Mr. Locke. No one shall ever make +me believe that I think always: and I am as little inclined as he could +be to fancy that some weeks after I was conceived I was a very learned +soul; knowing at that time a thousand things which I forgot at my birth; +and possessing when in the womb (though to no manner of purpose) knowledge +which I lost the instant I had occasion for it; and which I have never +since been able to recover perfectly.</p> +<p>Mr. Locke, after having destroyed innate ideas; after having fully +renounced the vanity of believing that we think always; after having +laid down, from the most solid principles, that ideas enter the mind +through the senses; having examined our simple and complex ideas; having +traced the human mind through its several operations; having shown that +all the languages in the world are imperfect, and the great abuse that +is made of words every moment, he at last comes to consider the extent +or rather the narrow limits of human knowledge. It was in this +chapter he presumed to advance, but very modestly, the following words: +“We shall, perhaps, never be capable of knowing whether a being, +purely material, thinks or not.” This sage assertion was, +by more divines than one, looked upon as a scandalous declaration that +the soul is material and mortal. Some Englishmen, devout after +their way, sounded an alarm. The superstitious are the same in +society as cowards in an army; they themselves are seized with a panic +fear, and communicate it to others. It was loudly exclaimed that +Mr. Locke intended to destroy religion; nevertheless, religion had nothing +to do in the affair, it being a question purely philosophical, altogether +independent of faith and revelation. Mr. Locke’s opponents +needed but to examine, calmly and impartially, whether the declaring +that matter can think, implies a contradiction; and whether God is able +to communicate thought to matter. But divines are too apt to begin +their declarations with saying that God is offended when people differ +from them in opinion; in which they too much resemble the bad poets, +who used to declare publicly that Boileau spake irreverently of Louis +XIV., because he ridiculed their stupid productions. Bishop Stillingfleet +got the reputation of a calm and unprejudiced divine because he did +not expressly make use of injurious terms in his dispute with Mr. Locke. +That divine entered the lists against him, but was defeated; for he +argued as a schoolman, and Locke as a philosopher, who was perfectly +acquainted with the strong as well as the weak side of the human mind, +and who fought with weapons whose temper he knew. If I might presume +to give my opinion on so delicate a subject after Mr. Locke, I would +say, that men have long disputed on the nature and the immortality of +the soul. With regard to its immortality, it is impossible to +give a demonstration of it, since its nature is still the subject of +controversy; which, however, must be thoroughly understood before a +person can be able to determine whether it be immortal or not. +Human reason is so little able, merely by its own strength, to demonstrate +the immortality of the soul, that it was absolutely necessary religion +should reveal it to us. It is of advantage to society in general, +that mankind should believe the soul to be immortal; faith commands +us to do this; nothing more is required, and the matter is cleared up +at once. But it is otherwise with respect to its nature; it is +of little importance to religion, which only requires the soul to be +virtuous, whatever substance it may be made of. It is a clock +which is given us to regulate, but the artist has not told us of what +materials the spring of this chock is composed.</p> +<p>I am a body, and, I think, that’s all I know of the matter. +Shall I ascribe to an unknown cause, what I can so easily impute to +the only second cause I am acquainted with? Here all the school +philosophers interrupt me with their arguments, and declare that there +is only extension and solidity in bodies, and that there they can have +nothing but motion and figure. Now motion, figure, extension and +solidity cannot form a thought, and consequently the soul cannot be +matter. All this so often repeated mighty series of reasoning, +amounts to no more than this: I am absolutely ignorant what matter is; +I guess, but imperfectly, some properties of it; now I absolutely cannot +tell whether these properties may be joined to thought. As I therefore +know nothing, I maintain positively that matter cannot think. +In this manner do the schools reason.</p> +<p>Mr. Locke addressed these gentlemen in the candid, sincere manner +following: At least confess yourselves to be as ignorant as I. +Neither your imaginations nor mine are able to comprehend in what manner +a body is susceptible of ideas; and do you conceive better in what manner +a substance, of what kind soever, is susceptible of them? As you +cannot comprehend either matter or spirit, why will you presume to assert +anything?</p> +<p>The superstitious man comes afterwards and declares, that all those +must be burnt for the good of their souls, who so much as suspect that +it is possible for the body to think without any foreign assistance. +But what would these people say should they themselves be proved irreligious? +And indeed, what man can presume to assert, without being guilty at +the same time of the greatest impiety, that it is impossible for the +Creator to form matter with thought and sensation? Consider only, +I beg you, what a dilemma you bring yourselves into, you who confine +in this manner the power of the Creator. Beasts have the same +organs, the same sensations, the same perceptions as we; they have memory, +and combine certain ideas. In case it was not in the power of +God to animate matter, and inform it with sensation, the consequence +would be, either that beasts are mere machines, or that they have a +spiritual soul.</p> +<p>Methinks it is clearly evident that beasts cannot be mere machines, +which I prove thus. God has given to them the very same organs +of sensation as to us: if therefore they have no sensation, God has +created a useless thing; now according to your own confession God does +nothing in vain; He therefore did not create so many organs of sensation, +merely for them to be uninformed with this faculty; consequently beasts +are not mere machines. Beasts, according to your assertion, cannot +be animated with a spiritual soul; you will, therefore, in spite of +yourself, be reduced to this only assertion, viz., that God has endued +the organs of beasts, who are mere matter, with the faculties of sensation +and perception, which you call instinct in them. But why may not +God, if He pleases, communicate to our more delicate organs, that faculty +of feeling, perceiving, and thinking, which we call human reason? +To whatever side you turn, you are forced to acknowledge your own ignorance, +and the boundless power of the Creator. Exclaim therefore no more +against the sage, the modest philosophy of Mr. Locke, which so far from +interfering with religion, would be of use to demonstrate the truth +of it, in case religion wanted any such support. For what philosophy +can be of a more religious nature than that, which affirming nothing +but what it conceives clearly, and conscious of its own weakness, declares +that we must always have recourse to God in our examining of the first +principles?</p> +<p>Besides, we must not be apprehensive that any philosophical opinion +will ever prejudice the religion of a country. Though our demonstrations +clash directly with our mysteries, that is nothing to the purpose, for +the latter are not less revered upon that account by our Christian philosophers, +who know very well that the objects of reason and those of faith are +of a very different nature. Philosophers will never form a religious +sect, the reason of which is, their writings are not calculated for +the vulgar, and they themselves are free from enthusiasm. If we +divide mankind into twenty parts, it will be found that nineteen of +these consist of persons employed in manual labour, who will never know +that such a man as Mr. Locke existed. In the remaining twentieth +part how few are readers? And among such as are so, twenty amuse +themselves with romances to one who studies philosophy. The thinking +part of mankind is confined to a very small number, and these will never +disturb the peace and tranquillity of the world.</p> +<p>Neither Montaigne, Locke, Bayle, Spinoza, Hobbes, the Lord Shaftesbury, +Collins, nor Toland lighted up the firebrand of discord in their countries; +this has generally been the work of divines, who being at first puffed +up with the ambition of becoming chiefs of a sect, soon grew very desirous +of being at the head of a party. But what do I say? All +the works of the modern philosophers put together will never make so +much noise as even the dispute which arose among the Franciscans, merely +about the fashion of their sleeves and of their cowls.</p> +<h3>LETTER XIV.—ON DESCARTES AND SIR ISAAC NEWTON</h3> +<p>A Frenchman who arrives in London, will find philosophy, like everything +else, very much changed there. He had left the world a plenum, +and he now finds it a vacuum. At Paris the universe is seen composed +of vortices of subtile matter; but nothing like it is seen in London. +In France, it is the pressure of the moon that causes the tides; but +in England it is the sea that gravitates towards the moon; so that when +you think that the moon should make it flood with us, those gentlemen +fancy it should be ebb, which very unluckily cannot be proved. +For to be able to do this, it is necessary the moon and the tides should +have been inquired into at the very instant of the creation.</p> +<p>You will observe farther, that the sun, which in France is said to +have nothing to do in the affair, comes in here for very near a quarter +of its assistance. According to your Cartesians, everything is +performed by an impulsion, of which we have very little notion; and +according to Sir Isaac Newton, it is by an attraction, the cause of +which is as much unknown to us. At Paris you imagine that the +earth is shaped like a melon, or of an oblique figure; at London it +has an oblate one. A Cartesian declares that light exists in the +air; but a Newtonian asserts that it comes from the sun in six minutes +and a half. The several operations of your chemistry are performed +by acids, alkalies and subtile matter; but attraction prevails even +in chemistry among the English.</p> +<p>The very essence of things is totally changed. You neither +are agreed upon the definition of the soul, nor on that of matter. +Descartes, as I observed in my last, maintains that the soul is the +same thing with thought, and Mr. Locke has given a pretty good proof +of the contrary.</p> +<p>Descartes asserts farther, that extension alone constitutes matter, +but Sir Isaac adds solidity to it.</p> +<p>How furiously contradictory are these opinions!</p> +<blockquote><p>“Non nostrum inter vos tantas componere lites.”</p> +<p>VIRGIL, Eclog. III.</p> +<p>“’Tis not for us to end such great disputes.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This famous Newton, this destroyer of the Cartesian system, died +in March, anno 1727. His countrymen honoured him in his lifetime, +and interred him as though he had been a king who had made his people +happy.</p> +<p>The English read with the highest satisfaction, and translated into +their tongue, the Elogium of Sir Isaac Newton, which M. de Fontenelle +spoke in the Academy of Sciences. M. de Fontenelle presides as +judge over philosophers; and the English expected his decision, as a +solemn declaration of the superiority of the English philosophy over +that of the French. But when it was found that this gentleman +had compared Descartes to Sir Isaac, the whole Royal Society in London +rose up in arms. So far from acquiescing with M. Fontenelle’s +judgment, they criticised his discourse. And even several (who, +however, were not the ablest philosophers in that body) were offended +at the comparison; and for no other reason but because Descartes was +a Frenchman.</p> +<p>It must be confessed that these two great men differed very much +in conduct, in fortune, and in philosophy.</p> +<p>Nature had indulged Descartes with a shining and strong imagination, +whence he became a very singular person both in private life and in +his manner of reasoning. This imagination could not conceal itself +even in his philosophical works, which are everywhere adorned with very +shining, ingenious metaphors and figures. Nature had almost made +him a poet; and indeed he wrote a piece of poetry for the entertainment +of Christina, Queen of Sweden, which however was suppressed in honour +to his memory.</p> +<p>He embraced a military life for some time, and afterwards becoming +a complete philosopher, he did not think the passion of love derogatory +to his character. He had by his mistress a daughter called Froncine, +who died young, and was very much regretted by him. Thus he experienced +every passion incident to mankind.</p> +<p>He was a long time of opinion that it would be necessary for him +to fly from the society of his fellow creatures, and especially from +his native country, in order to enjoy the happiness of cultivating his +philosophical studies in full liberty.</p> +<p>Descartes was very right, for his contemporaries were not knowing +enough to improve and enlighten his understanding, and were capable +of little else than of giving him uneasiness.</p> +<p>He left France purely to go in search of truth, which was then persecuted +by the wretched philosophy of the schools. However, he found that +reason was as much disguised and depraved in the universities of Holland, +into which he withdrew, as in his own country. For at the time +that the French condemned the only propositions of his philosophy which +were true, he was persecuted by the pretended philosophers of Holland, +who understood him no better; and who, having a nearer view of his glory, +hated his person the more, so that he was obliged to leave Utrecht. +Descartes was injuriously accused of being an atheist, the last refuge +of religious scandal: and he who had employed all the sagacity and penetration +of his genius, in searching for new proofs of the existence of a God, +was suspected to believe there was no such Being.</p> +<p>Such a persecution from all sides, must necessarily suppose a most +exalted merit as well as a very distinguished reputation, and indeed +he possessed both. Reason at that time darted a ray upon the world +through the gloom of the schools, and the prejudices of popular superstition. +At last his name spread so universally, that the French were desirous +of bringing him back into his native country by rewards, and accordingly +offered him an annual pension of a thousand crowns. Upon these +hopes Descartes returned to France; paid the fees of his patent, which +was sold at that time, but no pension was settled upon him. Thus +disappointed, he returned to his solitude in North Holland, where he +again pursued the study of philosophy, whilst the great Galileo, at +fourscore years of age, was groaning in the prisons of the Inquisition, +only for having demonstrated the earth’s motion.</p> +<p>At last Descartes was snatched from the world in the flower of his +age at Stockholm. His death was owing to a bad regimen, and he +expired in the midst of some literati who were his enemies, and under +the hands of a physician to whom he was odious.</p> +<p>The progress of Sir Isaac Newton’s life was quite different. +He lived happy, and very much honoured in his native country, to the +age of fourscore and five years.</p> +<p>It was his peculiar felicity, not only to be born in a country of +liberty, but in an age when all scholastic impertinences were banished +from the world. Reason alone was cultivated, and mankind could +only be his pupil, not his enemy.</p> +<p>One very singular difference in the lives of these two great men +is, that Sir Isaac, during the long course of years he enjoyed, was +never sensible to any passion, was not subject to the common frailties +of mankind, nor ever had any commerce with women—a circumstance +which was assured me by the physician and surgeon who attended him in +his last moments.</p> +<p>We may admire Sir Isaac Newton on this occasion, but then we must +not censure Descartes.</p> +<p>The opinion that generally prevails in England with regard to these +new philosophers is, that the latter was a dreamer, and the former a +sage.</p> +<p>Very few people in England read Descartes, whose works indeed are +now useless. On the other side, but a small number peruse those +of Sir Isaac, because to do this the student must be deeply skilled +in the mathematics, otherwise those works will be unintelligible to +him. But notwithstanding this, these great men are the subject +of everyone’s discourse. Sir Isaac Newton is allowed every +advantage, whilst Descartes is not indulged a single one. According +to some, it is to the former that we owe the discovery of a vacuum, +that the air is a heavy body, and the invention of telescopes. +In a word, Sir Isaac Newton is here as the Hercules of fabulous story, +to whom the ignorant ascribed all the feats of ancient heroes.</p> +<p>In a critique that was made in London on Mr. de Fontenelle’s +discourse, the writer presumed to assert that Descartes was not a great +geometrician. Those who make such a declaration may justly be +reproached with flying in their master’s face. Descartes +extended the limits of geometry as far beyond the place where he found +them, as Sir Isaac did after him. The former first taught the +method of expressing curves by equations. This geometry which, +thanks to him for it, is now grown common, was so abstruse in his time, +that not so much as one professor would undertake to explain it; and +Schotten in Holland, and Format in France, were the only men who understood +it.</p> +<p>He applied this geometrical and inventive genius to dioptrics, which, +when treated of by him, became a new art. And if he was mistaken +in some things, the reason of that is, a man who discovers a new tract +of land cannot at once know all the properties of the soil. Those +who come after him, and make these lands fruitful, are at least obliged +to him for the discovery. I will not deny but that there are innumerable +errors in the rest of Descartes’ works.</p> +<p>Geometry was a guide he himself had in some measure fashioned, which +would have conducted him safely through the several paths of natural +philosophy. Nevertheless, he at last abandoned this guide, and +gave entirely into the humour of forming hypotheses; and then philosophy +was no more than an ingenious romance, fit only to amuse the ignorant. +He was mistaken in the nature of the soul, in the proofs of the existence +of a God, in matter, in the laws of motion, and in the nature of light. +He admitted innate ideas, he invented new elements, he created a world; +he made man according to his own fancy; and it is justly said, that +the man of Descartes is, in fact, that of Descartes only, very different +from the real one.</p> +<p>He pushed his metaphysical errors so far, as to declare that two +and two make four for no other reason but because God would have it +so. However, it will not be making him too great a compliment +if we affirm that he was valuable even in his mistakes. He deceived +himself; but then it was at least in a methodical way. He destroyed +all the absurd chimeras with which youth had been infatuated for two +thousand years. He taught his contemporaries how to reason, and +enabled them to employ his own weapons against himself. If Descartes +did not pay in good money, he however did great service in crying down +that of a base alloy.</p> +<p>I indeed believe that very few will presume to compare his philosophy +in any respect with that of Sir Isaac Newton. The former is an +essay, the latter a masterpiece. But then the man who first brought +us to the path of truth, was perhaps as great a genius as he who afterwards +conducted us through it.</p> +<p>Descartes gave sight to the blind. These saw the errors of +antiquity and of the sciences. The path he struck out is since +become boundless. Rohault’s little work was, during some +years, a complete system of physics; but now all the Transactions of +the several academies in Europe put together do not form so much as +the beginning of a system. In fathoming this abyss no bottom has +been found. We are now to examine what discoveries Sir Isaac Newton +has made in it.</p> +<h3>LETTER XV.—ON ATTRACTION</h3> +<p>The discoveries which gained Sir Isaac Newton so universal a reputation, +relate to the system of the world, to light, to geometrical infinities; +and, lastly, to chronology, with which he used to amuse himself after +the fatigue of his severer studies.</p> +<p>I will now acquaint you (without prolixity if possible) with the +few things I have been able to comprehend of all these sublime ideas. +With regard to the system of our world, disputes were a long time maintained, +on the cause that turns the planets, and keeps them in their orbits: +and on those causes which make all bodies here below descend towards +the surface of the earth.</p> +<p>The system of Descartes, explained and improved since his time, seemed +to give a plausible reason for all those phenomena; and this reason +seemed more just, as it is simple and intelligible to all capacities. +But in philosophy, a student ought to doubt of the things he fancies +he understands too easily, as much as of those he does not understand.</p> +<p>Gravity, the falling of accelerated bodies on the earth, the revolution +of the planets in their orbits, their rotations round their axis, all +this is mere motion. Now motion cannot perhaps be conceived any +otherwise than by impulsion; therefore all those bodies must be impelled. +But by what are they impelled? All space is full, it therefore +is filled with a very subtile matter, since this is imperceptible to +us; this matter goes from west to east, since all the planets are carried +from west to east. Thus from hypothesis to hypothesis, from one +appearance to another, philosophers have imagined a vast whirlpool of +subtile matter, in which the planets are carried round the sun: they +also have created another particular vortex which floats in the great +one, and which turns daily round the planets. When all this is +done, it is pretended that gravity depends on this diurnal motion; for, +say these, the velocity of the subtile matter that turns round our little +vortex, must be seventeen times more rapid than that of the earth; or, +in case its velocity is seventeen times greater than that of the earth, +its centrifugal force must be vastly greater, and consequently impel +all bodies towards the earth. This is the cause of gravity, according +to the Cartesian system. But the theorist, before he calculated +the centrifugal force and velocity of the subtile matter, should first +have been certain that it existed.</p> +<p>Sir Isaac Newton, seems to have destroyed all these great and little +vortices, both that which carries the planets round the sun, as well +as the other which supposes every planet to turn on its own axis.</p> +<p>First, with regard to the pretended little vortex of the earth, it +is demonstrated that it must lose its motion by insensible degrees; +it is demonstrated, that if the earth swims in a fluid, its density +must be equal to that of the earth; and in case its density be the same, +all the bodies we endeavour to move must meet with an insuperable resistance.</p> +<p>With regard to the great vortices, they are still more chimerical, +and it is impossible to make them agree with Kepler’s law, the +truth of which has been demonstrated. Sir Isaac shows, that the +revolution of the fluid in which Jupiter is supposed to be carried, +is not the same with regard to the revolution of the fluid of the earth, +as the revolution of Jupiter with respect to that of the earth. +He proves, that as the planets make their revolutions in ellipses, and +consequently being at a much greater distance one from the other in +their Aphelia, and a little nearer in their Perihelia; the earth’s +velocity, for instance, ought to be greater when it is nearer Venus +and Mars, because the fluid that carries it along, being then more pressed, +ought to have a greater motion; and yet it is even then that the earth’s +motion is slower.</p> +<p>He proves that there is no such thing as a celestial matter which +goes from west to east since the comets traverse those spaces, sometimes +from east to west, and at other times from north to south.</p> +<p>In fine, the better to resolve, if possible, every difficulty, he +proves, and even by experiments, that it is impossible there should +be a plenum; and brings back the vacuum, which Aristotle and Descartes +had banished from the world.</p> +<p>Having by these and several other arguments destroyed the Cartesian +vortices, he despaired of ever being able to discover whether there +is a secret principle in nature which, at the same time, is the cause +of the motion of all celestial bodies, and that of gravity on the earth. +But being retired in 1666, upon account of the Plague, to a solitude +near Cambridge; as he was walking one day in his garden, and saw some +fruits fall from a tree, he fell into a profound meditation on that +gravity, the cause of which had so long been sought, but in vain, by +all the philosophers, whilst the vulgar think there is nothing mysterious +in it. He said to himself; that from what height soever in our +hemisphere, those bodies might descend, their fall would certainly be +in the progression discovered by Galileo; and the spaces they run through +would be as the square of the times. Why may not this power which +causes heavy bodies to descend, and is the same without any sensible +diminution at the remotest distance from the centre of the earth, or +on the summits of the highest mountains, why, said Sir Isaac, may not +this power extend as high as the moon? And in case its influence +reaches so far, is it not very probable that this power retains it in +its orbit, and determines its motion? But in case the moon obeys +this principle (whatever it be) may we not conclude very naturally that +the rest of the planets are equally subject to it? In case this +power exists (which besides is proved) it must increase in an inverse +ratio of the squares of the distances. All, therefore, that remains +is, to examine how far a heavy body, which should fall upon the earth +from a moderate height, would go; and how far in the same time, a body +which should fall from the orbit of the moon, would descend. To +find this, nothing is wanted but the measure of the earth, and the distance +of the moon from it.</p> +<p>Thus Sir Isaac Newton reasoned. But at that time the English +had but a very imperfect measure of our globe, and depended on the uncertain +supposition of mariners, who computed a degree to contain but sixty +English miles, whereas it consists in reality of near seventy. +As this false computation did not agree with the conclusions which Sir +Isaac intended to draw from them, he laid aside this pursuit. +A half-learned philosopher, remarkable only for his vanity, would have +made the measure of the earth agree, anyhow, with his system. +Sir Isaac, however, chose rather to quit the researches he was then +engaged in. But after Mr. Picard had measured the earth exactly, +by tracing that meridian which redounds so much to the honour of the +French, Sir Isaac Newton resumed his former reflections, and found his +account in Mr. Picard’s calculation.</p> +<p>A circumstance which has always appeared wonderful to me, is that +such sublime discoveries should have been made by the sole assistance +of a quadrant and a little arithmetic.</p> +<p>The circumference of the earth is 123,249,600 feet. This, among +other things, is necessary to prove the system of attraction.</p> +<p>The instant we know the earth’s circumference, and the distance +of the moon, we know that of the moon’s orbit, and the diameter +of this orbit. The moon performs its revolution in that orbit +in twenty-seven days, seven hours, forty-three minutes. It is +demonstrated, that the moon in its mean motion makes an hundred and +fourscore and seven thousand nine hundred and sixty feet (of Paris) +in a minute. It is likewise demonstrated, by a known theorem, +that the central force which should make a body fall from the height +of the moon, would make its velocity no more than fifteen Paris feet +in a minute of time. Now, if the law by which bodies gravitate +and attract one another in an inverse ratio to the squares of the distances +be true, if the same power acts according to that law throughout all +nature, it is evident that as the earth is sixty semi-diameters distant +from the moon, a heavy body must necessarily fall (on the earth) fifteen +feet in the first second, and fifty-four thousand feet in the first +minute.</p> +<p>Now a heavy body falls, in reality, fifteen feet in the first second, +and goes in the first minute fifty-four thousand feet, which number +is the square of sixty multiplied by fifteen. Bodies, therefore, +gravitate in an inverse ratio of the squares of the distances; consequently, +what causes gravity on earth, and keeps the moon in its orbit, is one +and the same power; it being demonstrated that the moon gravitates on +the earth, which is the centre of its particular motion, it is demonstrated +that the earth and the moon gravitate on the sun which is the centre +of their annual motion.</p> +<p>The rest of the planets must be subject to this general law; and +if this law exists, these planets must follow the laws which Kepler +discovered. All these laws, all these relations are indeed observed +by the planets with the utmost exactness; therefore, the power of attraction +causes all the planets to gravitate towards the sun, in like manner +as the moon gravitates towards our globe.</p> +<p>Finally, as in all bodies re-action is equal to action, it is certain +that the earth gravitates also towards the moon; and that the sun gravitates +towards both. That every one of the satellites of Saturn gravitates +towards the other four, and the other four towards it; all five towards +Saturn, and Saturn towards all. That it is the same with regard +to Jupiter; and that all these globes are attracted by the sun, which +is reciprocally attracted by them.</p> +<p>This power of gravitation acts proportionably to the quantity of +matter in bodies, a truth which Sir Isaac has demonstrated by experiments. +This new discovery has been of use to show that the sun (the centre +of the planetary system) attracts them all in a direct ratio of their +quantity of matter combined with their nearness. From hence Sir +Isaac, rising by degrees to discoveries which seemed not to be formed +for the human mind, is bold enough to compute the quantity of matter +contained in the sun and in every planet; and in this manner shows, +from the simple laws of mechanics, that every celestial globe ought +necessarily to be where it is placed.</p> +<p>His bare principle of the laws of gravitation accounts for all the +apparent inequalities in the course of the celestial globes. The +variations of the moon are a necessary consequence of those laws. +Moreover, the reason is evidently seen why the nodes of the moon perform +their revolutions in nineteen years, and those of the earth in about +twenty-six thousand. The several appearances observed in the tides +are also a very simple effect of this attraction. The proximity +of the moon, when at the full, and when it is new, and its distance +in the quadratures or quarters, combined with the action of the sun, +exhibit a sensible reason why the ocean swells and sinks.</p> +<p>After having shown by his sublime theory the course and inequalities +of the planets, he subjects comets to the same law. The orbit +of these fires (unknown for so great a series of years), which was the +terror of mankind and the rock against which philosophy split, placed +by Aristotle below the moon, and sent back by Descartes above the sphere +of Saturn, is at last placed in its proper seat by Sir Isaac Newton.</p> +<p>He proves that comets are solid bodies which move in the sphere of +the sun’s activity, and that they describe an ellipsis so very +eccentric, and so near to parabolas, that certain comets must take up +above five hundred years in their revolution.</p> +<p>The learned Dr. Halley is of opinion that the comet seen in 1680 +is the same which appeared in Julius Cæsar’s time. +This shows more than any other that comets are hard, opaque bodies; +for it descended so near to the sun, as to come within a sixth part +of the diameter of this planet from it, and consequently might have +contracted a degree of heat two thousand times stronger than that of +red-hot iron; and would have been soon dispersed in vapour, had it not +been a firm, dense body. The guessing the course of comets began +then to be very much in vogue. The celebrated Bernoulli concluded +by his system that the famous comet of 1680 would appear again the 17th +of May, 1719. Not a single astronomer in Europe went to bed that +night. However, they needed not to have broke their rest, for +the famous comet never appeared. There is at least more cunning, +if not more certainty, in fixing its return to so remote a distance +as five hundred and seventy-five years. As to Mr. Whiston, he +affirmed very seriously that in the time of the Deluge a comet overflowed +the terrestrial globe. And he was so unreasonable as to wonder +that people laughed at him for making such an assertion. The ancients +were almost in the same way of thinking with Mr. Whiston, and fancied +that comets were always the forerunners of some great calamity which +was to befall mankind. Sir Isaac Newton, on the contrary, suspected +that they are very beneficent, and that vapours exhale from them merely +to nourish and vivify the planets, which imbibe in their course the +several particles the sun has detached from the comets, an opinion which, +at least, is more probable than the former. But this is not all. +If this power of gravitation or attraction acts on all the celestial +globes, it acts undoubtedly on the several parts of these globes. +For in case bodies attract one another in proportion to the quantity +of matter contained in them, it can only be in proportion to the quantity +of their parts; and if this power is found in the whole, it is undoubtedly +in the half; in the quarters in the eighth part, and so on in <i>infinitum</i>.</p> +<p>This is attraction, the great spring by which all Nature is moved. +Sir Isaac Newton, after having demonstrated the existence of this principle, +plainly foresaw that its very name would offend; and, therefore, this +philosopher, in more places than one of his books, gives the reader +some caution about it. He bids him beware of confounding this +name with what the ancients called occult qualities, but to be satisfied +with knowing that there is in all bodies a central force, which acts +to the utmost limits of the universe, according to the invariable laws +of mechanics.</p> +<p>It is surprising, after the solemn protestations Sir Isaac made, +that such eminent men as Mr. Sorin and Mr. de Fontenelle should have +imputed to this great philosopher the verbal and chimerical way of reasoning +of the Aristotelians; Mr. Sorin in the Memoirs of the Academy of 1709, +and Mr. de Fontenelle in the very eulogium of Sir Isaac Newton.</p> +<p>Most of the French (the learned and others) have repeated this reproach. +These are for ever crying out, “Why did he not employ the word +<i>impulsion</i>, which is so well understood, rather than that of <i>attraction</i>, +which is unintelligible?”</p> +<p>Sir Isaac might have answered these critics thus:—“First, +you have as imperfect an idea of the word impulsion as of that of attraction; +and in case you cannot conceive how one body tends towards the centre +of another body, neither can you conceive by what power one body can +impel another.</p> +<p>“Secondly, I could not admit of impulsion; for to do this I +must have known that a celestial matter was the agent. But so +far from knowing that there is any such matter, I have proved it to +be merely imaginary.</p> +<p>“Thirdly, I use the word attraction for no other reason but +to express an effect which I discovered in Nature—a certain and +indisputable effect of an unknown principle—a quality inherent +in matter, the cause of which persons of greater abilities than I can +pretend to may, if they can, find out.”</p> +<p>“What have you, then, taught us?” will these people say +further; “and to what purpose are so many calculations to tell +us what you yourself do not comprehend?”</p> +<p>“I have taught you,” may Sir Isaac rejoin, “that +all bodies gravitate towards one another in proportion to their quantity +of matter; that these central forces alone keep the planets and comets +in their orbits, and cause them to move in the proportion before set +down. I demonstrate to you that it is impossible there should +be any other cause which keeps the planets in their orbits than that +general phenomenon of gravity. For heavy bodies fall on the earth +according to the proportion demonstrated of central forces; and the +planets finishing their course according to these same proportions, +in case there were another power that acted upon all those bodies, it +would either increase their velocity or change their direction. +Now, not one of those bodies ever has a single degree of motion or velocity, +or has any direction but what is demonstrated to be the effect of the +central forces. Consequently it is impossible there should be +any other principle.”</p> +<p>Give me leave once more to introduce Sir Isaac speaking. Shall +he not be allowed to say? “My case and that of the ancients is +very different. These saw, for instance, water ascend in pumps, +and said, ‘The water rises because it abhors a vacuum.’ +But with regard to myself; I am in the case of a man who should have +first observed that water ascends in pumps, but should leave others +to explain the cause of this effect. The anatomist, who first +declared that the motion of the arm is owing to the contraction of the +muscles, taught mankind an indisputable truth. But are they less +obliged to him because he did not know the reason why the muscles contract? +The cause of the elasticity of the air is unknown, but he who first +discovered this spring performed a very signal service to natural philosophy. +The spring that I discovered was more hidden and more universal, and +for that very reason mankind ought to thank me the more. I have +discovered a new property of matter—one of the secrets of the +Creator—and have calculated and discovered the effects of it. +After this, shall people quarrel with me about the name I give it?”</p> +<p>Vortices may be called an occult quality, because their existence +was never proved. Attraction, on the contrary, is a real thing, +because its effects are demonstrated, and the proportions of it are +calculated. The cause of this cause is among the <i>Arcana</i> +of the Almighty.</p> +<blockquote><p>“Precedes huc, et non amplius.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>(Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.)</p> +<h3>LETTER XVI.—ON SIR ISAAC NEWTON’S OPTICS</h3> +<p>The philosophers of the last age found out a new universe; and a +circumstance which made its discovery more difficult was that no one +had so much as suspected its existence. The most sage and judicious +were of opinion that it was a frantic rashness to dare so much as to +imagine that it was possible to guess the laws by which the celestial +bodies move and the manner how light acts. Galileo, by his astronomical +discoveries, Kepler, by his calculation, Descartes (at least, in his +dioptrics), and Sir Isaac Newton, in all his works, severally saw the +mechanism of the springs of the world. The geometricians have +subjected infinity to the laws of calculation. The circulation +of the blood in animals, and of the sap in vegetables, have changed +the face of Nature with regard to us. A new kind of existence +has been given to bodies in the air-pump. By the assistance of +telescopes bodies have been brought nearer to one another. Finally, +the several discoveries which Sir Isaac Newton has made on light are +equal to the boldest things which the curiosity of man could expect +after so many philosophical novelties.</p> +<p>Till Antonio de Dominis the rainbow was considered as an inexplicable +miracle. This philosopher guessed that it was a necessary effect +of the sun and rain. Descartes gained immortal fame by his mathematical +explication of this so natural a phenomenon. He calculated the +reflections and refractions of light in drops of rain. And his +sagacity on this occasion was at that time looked upon as next to divine.</p> +<p>But what would he have said had it been proved to him that he was +mistaken in the nature of light; that he had not the least reason to +maintain that it is a globular body? That it is false to assert +that this matter, spreading itself through the whole, waits only to +be projected forward by the sun, in order to be put in action, in like +manner as a long staff acts at one end when pushed forward by the other. +That light is certainly darted by the sun; in fine, that light is transmitted +from the sun to the earth in about seven minutes, though a cannonball, +which were not to lose any of its velocity, could not go that distance +in less than twenty-five years. How great would have been his +astonishment had he been told that light does not reflect directly by +impinging against the solid parts of bodies, that bodies are not transparent +when they have large pores, and that a man should arise who would demonstrate +all these paradoxes, and anatomise a single ray of light with more dexterity +than the ablest artist dissects a human body. This man is come. +Sir Isaac Newton has demonstrated to the eye, by the bare assistance +of the prism, that light is a composition of coloured rays, which, being +united, form white colour. A single ray is by him divided into +seven, which all fall upon a piece of linen, or a sheet of white paper, +in their order, one above the other, and at unequal distances. +The first is red, the second orange, the third yellow, the fourth green, +the fifth blue, the sixth indigo, the seventh a violet-purple. +Each of these rays, transmitted afterwards by a hundred other prisms, +will never change the colour it bears; in like manner, as gold, when +completely purged from its dross, will never change afterwards in the +crucible. As a superabundant proof that each of these elementary +rays has inherently in itself that which forms its colour to the eye, +take a small piece of yellow wood, for instance, and set it in the ray +of a red colour; this wood will instantly be tinged red. But set +it in the ray of a green colour, it assumes a green colour, and so of +all the rest.</p> +<p>From what cause, therefore, do colours arise in Nature? It +is nothing but the disposition of bodies to reflect the rays of a certain +order and to absorb all the rest.</p> +<p>What, then, is this secret disposition? Sir Isaac Newton demonstrates +that it is nothing more than the density of the small constituent particles +of which a body is composed. And how is this reflection performed? +It was supposed to arise from the rebounding of the rays, in the same +manner as a ball on the surface of a solid body. But this is a +mistake, for Sir Isaac taught the astonished philosophers that bodies +are opaque for no other reason but because their pores are large, that +light reflects on our eyes from the very bosom of those pores, that +the smaller the pores of a body are the more such a body is transparent. +Thus paper, which reflects the light when dry, transmits it when oiled, +because the oil, by filling its pores, makes them much smaller.</p> +<p>It is there that examining the vast porosity of bodies, every particle +having its pores, and every particle of those particles having its own, +he shows we are not certain that there is a cubic inch of solid matter +in the universe, so far are we from conceiving what matter is. +Having thus divided, as it were, light into its elements, and carried +the sagacity of his discoveries so far as to prove the method of distinguishing +compound colours from such as are primitive, he shows that these elementary +rays, separated by the prism, are ranged in their order for no other +reason but because they are refracted in that very order; and it is +this property (unknown till he discovered it) of breaking or splitting +in this proportion; it is this unequal refraction of rays, this power +of refracting the red less than the orange colour, &c., which he +calls the different refrangibility. The most reflexible rays are +the most refrangible, and from hence he evinces that the same power +is the cause both of the reflection and refraction of light.</p> +<p>But all these wonders are merely but the opening of his discoveries. +He found out the secret to see the vibrations or fits of light which +come and go incessantly, and which either transmit light or reflect +it, according to the density of the parts they meet with. He has +presumed to calculate the density of the particles of air necessary +between two glasses, the one flat, the other convex on one side, set +one upon the other, in order to operate such a transmission or reflection, +or to form such and such a colour.</p> +<p>From all these combinations he discovers the proportion in which +light acts on bodies and bodies act on light.</p> +<p>He saw light so perfectly, that he has determined to what degree +of perfection the art of increasing it, and of assisting our eyes by +telescopes, can be carried.</p> +<p>Descartes, from a noble confidence that was very excusable, considering +how strongly he was fired at the first discoveries he made in an art +which he almost first found out; Descartes, I say, hoped to discover +in the stars, by the assistance of telescopes, objects as small as those +we discern upon the earth.</p> +<p>But Sir Isaac has shown that dioptric telescopes cannot be brought +to a greater perfection, because of that refraction, and of that very +refrangibility, which at the same time that they bring objects nearer +to us, scatter too much the elementary rays. He has calculated +in these glasses the proportion of the scattering of the red and of +the blue rays; and proceeding so far as to demonstrate things which +were not supposed even to exist, he examines the inequalities which +arise from the shape or figure of the glass, and that which arises from +the refrangibility. He finds that the object glass of the telescope +being convex on one side and flat on the other, in case the flat side +be turned towards the object, the error which arises from the construction +and position of the glass is above five thousand times less than the +error which arises from the refrangibility; and, therefore, that the +shape or figure of the glasses is not the cause why telescopes cannot +be carried to a greater perfection, but arises wholly from the nature +of light.</p> +<p>For this reason he invented a telescope, which discovers objects +by reflection, and not by refraction. Telescopes of this new kind +are very hard to make, and their use is not easy; but, according to +the English, a reflective telescope of but five feet has the same effect +as another of a hundred feet in length.</p> +<h3>LETTER XVII.—ON INFINITES IN GEOMETRY, AND SIR ISAAC NEWTON’S +CHRONOLOGY</h3> +<p>The labyrinth and abyss of infinity is also a new course Sir Isaac +Newton has gone through, and we are obliged to him for the clue, by +whose assistance we are enabled to trace its various windings.</p> +<p>Descartes got the start of him also in this astonishing invention. +He advanced with mighty steps in his geometry, and was arrived at the +very borders of infinity, but went no farther. Dr. Wallis, about +the middle of the last century, was the first who reduced a fraction +by a perpetual division to an infinite series.</p> +<p>The Lord Brouncker employed this series to square the hyperbola.</p> +<p>Mercator published a demonstration of this quadrature; much about +which time Sir Isaac Newton, being then twenty-three years of age, had +invented a general method, to perform on all geometrical curves what +had just before been tried on the hyperbola.</p> +<p>It is to this method of subjecting everywhere infinity to algebraical +calculations, that the name is given of differential calculations or +of fluxions and integral calculation. It is the art of numbering +and measuring exactly a thing whose existence cannot be conceived.</p> +<p>And, indeed, would you not imagine that a man laughed at you who +should declare that there are lines infinitely great which form an angle +infinitely little?</p> +<p>That a right line, which is a right line so long as it is finite, +by changing infinitely little its direction, becomes an infinite curve; +and that a curve may become infinitely less than another curve?</p> +<p>That there are infinite squares, infinite cubes, and infinites of +infinites, all greater than one another, and the last but one of which +is nothing in comparison of the last?</p> +<p>All these things, which at first appear to be the utmost excess of +frenzy, are in reality an effort of the subtlety and extent of the human +mind, and the art of finding truths which till then had been unknown.</p> +<p>This so bold edifice is even founded on simple ideas. The business +is to measure the diagonal of a square, to give the area of a curve, +to find the square root of a number, which has none in common arithmetic. +After all, the imagination ought not to be startled any more at so many +orders of infinites than at the so well-known proposition, viz., that +curve lines may always be made to pass between a circle and a tangent; +or at that other, namely, that matter is divisible in <i>infinitum</i>. +These two truths have been demonstrated many years, and are no less +incomprehensible than the things we have been speaking of.</p> +<p>For many years the invention of this famous calculation was denied +to Sir Isaac Newton. In Germany Mr. Leibnitz was considered as +the inventor of the differences or moments, called fluxions, and Mr. +Bernouilli claimed the integral calculus. However, Sir Isaac is +now thought to have first made the discovery, and the other two have +the glory of having once made the world doubt whether it was to be ascribed +to him or them. Thus some contested with Dr. Harvey the invention +of the circulation of the blood, as others disputed with Mr. Perrault +that of the circulation of the sap.</p> +<p>Hartsocher and Leuwenhoek disputed with each other the honour of +having first seen the <i>vermiculi</i> of which mankind are formed. +This Hartsocher also contested with Huygens the invention of a new method +of calculating the distance of a fixed star. It is not yet known +to what philosopher we owe the invention of the cycloid.</p> +<p>Be this as it will, it is by the help of this geometry of infinites +that Sir Isaac Newton attained to the most sublime discoveries. +I am now to speak of another work, which, though more adapted to the +capacity of the human mind, does nevertheless display some marks of +that creative genius with which Sir Isaac Newton was informed in all +his researches. The work I mean is a chronology of a new kind, +for what province soever he undertook he was sure to change the ideas +and opinions received by the rest of men.</p> +<p>Accustomed to unravel and disentangle chaos, he was resolved to convey +at least some light into that of the fables of antiquity which are blended +and confounded with history, and fix an uncertain chronology. +It is true that there is no family, city, or nation, but endeavours +to remove its original as far backward as possible. Besides, the +first historians were the most negligent in setting down the eras: books +were infinitely less common than they are at this time, and, consequently, +authors being not so obnoxious to censure, they therefore imposed upon +the world with greater impunity; and, as it is evident that these have +related a great number of fictitious particulars, it is probable enough +that they also gave us several false eras.</p> +<p>It appeared in general to Sir Isaac that the world was five hundred +years younger than chronologers declare it to be. He grounds his +opinion on the ordinary course of Nature, and on the observations which +astronomers have made.</p> +<p>By the course of Nature we here understand the time that every generation +of men lives upon the earth. The Egyptians first employed this +vague and uncertain method of calculating when they began to write the +beginning of their history. These computed three hundred and forty-one +generations from Menes to Sethon; and, having no fixed era, they supposed +three generations to consist of a hundred years. In this manner +they computed eleven thousand three hundred and forty years from Menes’s +reign to that of Sethon.</p> +<p>The Greeks before they counted by Olympiads followed the method of +the Egyptians, and even gave a little more extent to generations, making +each to consist of forty years.</p> +<p>Now, here, both the Egyptians and the Greeks made an erroneous computation. +It is true, indeed, that, according to the usual course of Nature, three +generations last about a hundred and twenty years; but three reigns +are far from taking up so many. It is very evident that mankind +in general live longer than kings are found to reign, so that an author +who should write a history in which there were no dates fixed, and should +know that nine kings had reigned over a nation; such an historian would +commit a great error should he allow three hundred years to these nine +monarchs. Every generation takes about thirty-six years; every +reign is, one with the other, about twenty. Thirty kings of England +have swayed the sceptre from William the Conqueror to George I., the +years of whose reigns added together amount to six hundred and forty-eight +years; which, being divided equally among the thirty kings, give to +every one a reign of twenty-one years and a half very near. Sixty-three +kings of France have sat upon the throne; these have, one with another, +reigned about twenty years each. This is the usual course of Nature. +The ancients, therefore, were mistaken when they supposed the durations +in general of reigns to equal that of generations. They, therefore, +allowed too great a number of years, and consequently some years must +be subtracted from their computation.</p> +<p>Astronomical observations seem to have lent a still greater assistance +to our philosopher. He appears to us stronger when he fights upon +his own ground.</p> +<p>You know that the earth, besides its annual motion which carries +it round the sun from west to east in the space of a year, has also +a singular revolution which was quite unknown till within these late +years. Its poles have a very slow retrograde motion from east +to west, whence it happens that their position every day does not correspond +exactly with the same point of the heavens. This difference, which +is so insensible in a year, becomes pretty considerable in time; and +in threescore and twelve years the difference is found to be of one +degree, that is to say, the three hundred and sixtieth part of the circumference +of the whole heaven. Thus after seventy-two years the colure of +the vernal equinox which passed through a fixed star, corresponds with +another fixed star. Hence it is that the sun, instead of being +in that part of the heavens in which the Ram was situated in the time +of Hipparchus, is found to correspond with that part of the heavens +in which the Bull was situated; and the Twins are placed where the Bull +then stood. All the signs have changed their situation, and yet +we still retain the same manner of speaking as the ancients did. +In this age we say that the sun is in the Ram in the spring, from the +same principle of condescension that we say that the sun turns round.</p> +<p>Hipparchus was the first among the Greeks who observed some change +in the constellations with regard to the equinoxes, or rather who learnt +it from the Egyptians. Philosophers ascribed this motion to the +stars; for in those ages people were far from imagining such a revolution +in the earth, which was supposed to be immovable in every respect. +They therefore created a heaven in which they fixed the several stars, +and gave this heaven a particular motion by which it was carried towards +the east, whilst that all the stars seemed to perform their diurnal +revolution from east to west. To this error they added a second +of much greater consequence, by imagining that the pretended heaven +of the fixed stars advanced one degree eastward every hundred years. +In this manner they were no less mistaken in their astronomical calculation +than in their system of natural philosophy. As for instance, an +astronomer in that age would have said that the vernal equinox was in +the time of such and such an observation, in such a sign, and in such +a star. It has advanced two degrees of each since the time that +observation was made to the present. Now two degrees are equivalent +to two hundred years; consequently the astronomer who made that observation +lived just so many years before me. It is certain that an astronomer +who had argued in this manner would have mistook just fifty-four years; +hence it is that the ancients, who were doubly deceived, made their +great year of the world, that is, the revolution of the whole heavens, +to consist of thirty-six thousand years. But the moderns are sensible +that this imaginary revolution of the heaven of the stars is nothing +else than the revolution of the poles of the earth, which is performed +in twenty-five thousand nine hundred years. It may be proper to +observe transiently in this place, that Sir Isaac, by determining the +figure of the earth, has very happily explained the cause of this revolution.</p> +<p>All this being laid down, the only thing remaining to settle chronology +is to see through what star the colure of the equinoxes passes, and +where it intersects at this time the ecliptic in the spring; and to +discover whether some ancient writer does not tell us in what point +the ecliptic was intersected in his time, by the same colure of the +equinoxes.</p> +<p>Clemens Alexandrinus informs us, that Chiron, who went with the Argonauts, +observed the constellations at the time of that famous expedition, and +fixed the vernal equinox to the middle of the Ram; the autumnal equinox +to the middle of Libra; our summer solstice to the middle of Cancer, +and our winter solstice to the middle of Capricorn.</p> +<p>A long time after the expedition of the Argonauts, and a year before +the Peloponnesian war, Methon observed that the point of the summer +solstice passed through the eighth degree of Cancer.</p> +<p>Now every sign of the zodiac contains thirty degrees. In Chiron’s +time, the solstice was arrived at the middle of the sign, that is to +say to the fifteenth degree. A year before the Peloponnesian war +it was at the eighth, and therefore it had retarded seven degrees. +A degree is equivalent to seventy-two years; consequently, from the +beginning of the Peloponnesian war to the expedition of the Argonauts, +there is no more than an interval of seven times seventy-two years, +which make five hundred and four years, and not seven hundred years +as the Greeks computed. Thus in comparing the position of the +heavens at this time with their position in that age, we find that the +expedition of the Argonauts ought to be placed about nine hundred years +before Christ, and not about fourteen hundred; and consequently that +the world is not so old by five hundred years as it was generally supposed +to be. By this calculation all the eras are drawn nearer, and +the several events are found to have happened later than is computed. +I do not know whether this ingenious system will be favourably received; +and whether these notions will prevail so far with the learned, as to +prompt them to reform the chronology of the world. Perhaps these +gentlemen would think it too great a condescension to allow one and +the same man the glory of having improved natural philosophy, geometry, +and history. This would be a kind of universal monarchy, with +which the principle of self-love that is in man will scarce suffer him +to indulge his fellow-creature; and, indeed, at the same time that some +very great philosophers attacked Sir Isaac Newton’s attractive +principle, others fell upon his chronological system. Time that +should discover to which of these the victory is due, may perhaps only +leave the dispute still more undetermined.</p> +<h3>LETTER XVIII.—ON TRAGEDY</h3> +<p>The English as well as the Spaniards were possessed of theatres at +a time when the French had no more than moving, itinerant stages. +Shakspeare, who was considered as the Corneille of the first-mentioned +nation, was pretty nearly contemporary with Lopez de Vega, and he created, +as it were, the English theatre. Shakspeare boasted a strong fruitful +genius. He was natural and sublime, but had not so much as a single +spark of good taste, or knew one rule of the drama. I will now +hazard a random, but, at the same time, true reflection, which is, that +the great merit of this dramatic poet has been the ruin of the English +stage. There are such beautiful, such noble, such dreadful scenes +in this writer’s monstrous farces, to which the name of tragedy +is given, that they have always been exhibited with great success. +Time, which alone gives reputation to writers, at last makes their very +faults venerable. Most of the whimsical gigantic images of this +poet, have, through length of time (it being a hundred and fifty years +since they were first drawn) acquired a right of passing for sublime. +Most of the modern dramatic writers have copied him; but the touches +and descriptions which are applauded in Shakspeare, are hissed at in +these writers; and you will easily believe that the veneration in which +this author is held, increases in proportion to the contempt which is +shown to the moderns. Dramatic writers don’t consider that +they should not imitate him; and the ill-success of Shakspeare’s +imitators produces no other effect, than to make him be considered as +inimitable. You remember that in the tragedy of <i>Othello, Moor +of Venice</i>, a most tender piece, a man strangles his wife on the +stage, and that the poor woman, whilst she is strangling, cries aloud +that she dies very unjustly. You know that in <i>Hamlet, Prince +of Denmark</i>, two grave-diggers make a grave, and are all the time +drinking, singing ballads, and making humorous reflections (natural +indeed enough to persons of their profession) on the several skulls +they throw up with their spades; but a circumstance which will surprise +you is, that this ridiculous incident has been imitated. In the +reign of King Charles II., which was that of politeness, and the Golden +Age of the liberal arts; Otway, in his <i>Venice Preserved</i>, introduces +Antonio the senator, and Naki, his courtesan, in the midst of the horrors +of the Marquis of Bedemar’s conspiracy. Antonio, the superannuated +senator plays, in his mistress’s presence, all the apish tricks +of a lewd, impotent debauchee, who is quite frantic and out of his senses. +He mimics a bull and a dog, and bites his mistress’s legs, who +kicks and whips him. However, the players have struck these buffooneries +(which indeed were calculated merely for the dregs of the people) out +of Otway’s tragedy; but they have still left in Shakspeare’s +<i>Julius Cæsar</i> the jokes of the Roman shoemakers and cobblers, +who are introduced in the same scene with Brutus and Cassius. +You will undoubtedly complain, that those who have hitherto discoursed +with you on the English stage, and especially on the celebrated Shakspeare, +have taken notice only of his errors; and that no one has translated +any of those strong, those forcible passages which atone for all his +faults. But to this I will answer, that nothing is easier than +to exhibit in prose all the silly impertinences which a poet may have +thrown out; but that it is a very difficult task to translate his fine +verses. All your junior academical sophs, who set up for censors +of the eminent writers, compile whole volumes; but methinks two pages +which display some of the beauties of great geniuses, are of infinitely +more value than all the idle rhapsodies of those commentators; and I +will join in opinion with all persons of good taste in declaring, that +greater advantage may be reaped from a dozen verses of Homer of Virgil, +than from all the critiques put together which have been made on those +two great poets.</p> +<p>I have ventured to translate some passages of the most celebrated +English poets, and shall now give you one from Shakspeare. Pardon +the blemishes of the translation for the sake of the original; and remember +always that when you see a version, you see merely a faint print of +a beautiful picture. I have made choice of part of the celebrated +soliloquy in <i>Hamlet</i>, which you may remember is as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“To be, or not to be? that is the question!<br /> +Whether ’t is nobler in the mind to suffer<br /> +The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,<br /> +Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,<br /> +And by opposing, end them? To die! to sleep!<br /> +No more! and by a sleep to say we end<br /> +The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks<br /> +That flesh is heir to! ’Tis a consummation<br /> +Devoutly to be wished. To die! to sleep!<br /> +To sleep; perchance to dream! O, there’s the rub;<br /> +For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come<br /> +When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,<br /> +Must give us pause. There’s the respect<br /> +That makes calamity of so long life:<br /> +For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,<br /> +The oppressor’s wrong, the poor man’s contumely,<br /> +The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,<br /> +The insolence of office, and the spurns<br /> +That patient merit of the unworthy takes,<br /> +When he himself might his quietus make<br /> +With a bare bodkin. Who would fardels bear<br /> +To groan and sweat under a weary life,<br /> +But that the dread of something after death,<br /> +The undiscovered country, from whose bourn<br /> +No traveller returns, puzzles the will,<br /> +And makes us rather bear those ills we have,<br /> +Than fly to others that we know not of?<br /> +Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;<br /> +And thus the native hue of resolution<br /> +Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought:<br /> +And enterprises of great weight and moment<br /> +With this regard their currents turn awry,<br /> +And lose the name of action—”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>My version of it runs thus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Demeure, il faut choisir et passer à l’instant<br /> +De la vie, à la mort, ou de l’être au neant.<br /> +Dieux cruels, s’il en est, éclairez mon courage.<br /> +Faut-il vieillir courbé sous la main qui m’outrage,<br /> +Supporter, ou finir mon malheur et mon sort?<br /> +Qui suis je? Qui m’arrête! et qu’est-ce que +la mort?<br /> +C’est la fin de nos maux, c’est mon unique asile<br /> +Après de longs transports, c’est un sommeil tranquile.<br /> +On s’endort, et tout meurt, mais un affreux reveil<br /> +Doit succeder peut être aux douceurs du sommeil!<br /> +On nous menace, on dit que cette courte vie,<br /> +De tourmens éternels est aussi-tôt suivie.<br /> +O mort! moment fatal! affreuse eternité!<br /> +Tout coeur à ton seul nom se glace épouvanté.<br /> +Eh! qui pourroit sans toi supporter cette vie,<br /> +De nos prêtres menteurs benir l’hypocrisie:<br /> +D’une indigne maitresse encenser les erreurs,<br /> +Ramper sous un ministre, adorer ses hauteurs;<br /> +Et montrer les langueurs de son ame abattüe,<br /> +A des amis ingrats qui detournent la vüe?<br /> +La mort seroit trop douce en ces extrémitez,<br /> +Mais le scrupule parle, et nous crie, arrêtez;<br /> +Il defend à nos mains cet heureux homicide<br /> +Et d’un heros guerrier, fait un Chrétien timide,” +&c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Do not imagine that I have translated Shakspeare in a servile manner. +Woe to the writer who gives a literal version; who by rendering every +word of his original, by that very means enervates the sense, and extinguishes +all the fire of it. It is on such an occasion one may justly affirm, +that the letter kills, but the Spirit quickens.</p> +<p>Here follows another passage copied from a celebrated tragic writer +among the English. It is Dryden, a poet in the reign of Charles +II.—a writer whose genius was too exuberant, and not accompanied +with judgment enough. Had he written only a tenth part of the +works he left behind him, his character would have been conspicuous +in every part; but his great fault is his having endeavoured to be universal.</p> +<p>The passage in question is as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“When I consider life, ’t is all a cheat,<br /> +Yet fooled by hope, men favour the deceit;<br /> +Trust on and think, to-morrow will repay;<br /> +To-morrow’s falser than the former day;<br /> +Lies more; and whilst it says we shall be blest<br /> +With some new joy, cuts off what we possessed;<br /> +Strange cozenage! none would live past years again,<br /> +Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain,<br /> +And from the dregs of life think to receive<br /> +What the first sprightly running could not give.<br /> +I’m tired with waiting for this chymic gold,<br /> +Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I shall now give you my translation:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“De desseins en regrets et d’erreurs en desirs<br /> +Les mortals insensés promenent leur folie.<br /> +Dans des malheurs presents, dans l’espoir des plaisirs<br /> +Nous ne vivons jamais, nous attendons la vie.<br /> +Demain, demain, dit-on, va combler tous nos voeux.<br /> +Demain vient, et nous laisse encore plus malheureux.<br /> +Quelle est l’erreur, helas! du soin qui nous dévore,<br /> +Nul de nous ne voudroit recommencer son cours.<br /> +De nos premiers momens nous maudissons l’aurore,<br /> +Et de la nuit qui vient nous attendons encore,<br /> +Ce qu’ont en vain promis les plus beaux de nos jours,” &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is in these detached passages that the English have hitherto excelled. +Their dramatic pieces, most of which are barbarous and without decorum, +order, or verisimilitude, dart such resplendent flashes through this +gleam, as amaze and astonish. The style is too much inflated, +too unnatural, too closely copied from the Hebrew writers, who abound +so much with the Asiatic fustian. But then it must be also confessed +that the stilts of the figurative style, on which the English tongue +is lifted up, raises the genius at the same time very far aloft, though +with an irregular pace. The first English writer who composed +a regular tragedy, and infused a spirit of elegance through every part +of it, was the illustrious Mr. Addison. His “Cato” +is a masterpiece, both with regard to the diction and to the beauty +and harmony of the numbers. The character of Cato is, in my opinion, +vastly superior to that of Cornelia in the “Pompey” of Corneille, +for Cato is great without anything like fustian, and Cornelia, who besides +is not a necessary character, tends sometimes to bombast. Mr. +Addison’s Cato appears to me the greatest character that was ever +brought upon any stage, but then the rest of them do not correspond +to the dignity of it, and this dramatic piece, so excellently well writ, +is disfigured by a dull love plot, which spreads a certain languor over +the whole, that quite murders it.</p> +<p>The custom of introducing love at random and at any rate in the drama +passed from Paris to London about 1660, with our ribbons and our perruques. +The ladies who adorn the theatrical circle there, in like manner as +in this city, will suffer love only to be the theme of every conversation. +The judicious Mr. Addison had the effeminate complaisance to soften +the severity of his dramatic character, so as to adapt it to the manners +of the age, and, from an endeavour to please, quite ruined a masterpiece +in its kind. Since his time the drama is become more regular, +the audience more difficult to be pleased, and writers more correct +and less bold. I have seen some new pieces that were written with +great regularity, but which, at the same time, were very flat and insipid. +One would think that the English had been hitherto formed to produce +irregular beauties only. The shining monsters of Shakspeare give +infinite more delight than the judicious images of the moderns. +Hitherto the poetical genius of the English resembles a tufted tree +planted by the hand of Nature, that throws out a thousand branches at +random, and spreads unequally, but with great vigour. It dies +if you attempt to force its nature, and to lop and dress it in the same +manner as the trees of the Garden of Marli.</p> +<h3>LETTER XIX.—ON COMEDY</h3> +<p>I am surprised that the judicious and ingenious Mr. de Muralt, who +has published some letters on the English and French nations, should +have confined himself; in treating of comedy, merely to censure Shadwell +the comic writer. This author was had in pretty great contempt +in Mr. de Muralt’s time, and was not the poet of the polite part +of the nation. His dramatic pieces, which pleased some time in +acting, were despised by all persons of taste, and might be compared +to many plays which I have seen in France, that drew crowds to the playhouse, +at the same time that they were intolerable to read; and of which it +might be said, that the whole city of Paris exploded them, and yet all +flocked to see them represented on the stage. Methinks Mr. de +Muralt should have mentioned an excellent comic writer (living when +he was in England), I mean Mr. Wycherley, who was a long time known +publicly to be happy in the good graces of the most celebrated mistress +of King Charles II. This gentleman, who passed his life among +persons of the highest distinction, was perfectly well acquainted with +their lives and their follies, and painted them with the strongest pencil, +and in the truest colours. He has drawn a misanthrope or man-hater, +in imitation of that of Molière. All Wycherley’s +strokes are stronger and bolder than those of our misanthrope, but then +they are less delicate, and the rules of decorum are not so well observed +in this play. The English writer has corrected the only defect +that is in Molière’s comedy, the thinness of the plot, +which also is so disposed that the characters in it do not enough raise +our concern. The English comedy affects us, and the contrivance +of the plot is very ingenious, but at the same time it is too bold for +the French manners. The fable is this:—A captain of a man-of-war, +who is very brave, open-hearted, and inflamed with a spirit of contempt +for all mankind, has a prudent, sincere friend, whom he yet is suspicious +of; and a mistress that loves him with the utmost excess of passion. +The captain so far from returning her love, will not even condescend +to look upon her, but confides entirely in a false friend, who is the +most worthless wretch living. At the same time he has given his +heart to a creature, who is the greatest coquette and the most perfidious +of her sex, and he is so credulous as to be confident she is a Penelope, +and his false friend a Cato. He embarks on board his ship in order +to go and fight the Dutch, having left all his money, his jewels, and +everything he had in the world to this virtuous creature, whom at the +same time he recommends to the care of his supposed faithful friend. +Nevertheless the real man of honour, whom he suspects so unaccountably, +goes on board the ship with him, and the mistress, on whom he would +not bestow so much as one glance, disguises herself in the habit of +a page, and is with him the whole voyage, without his once knowing that +she is of a sex different from that she attempts to pass for, which, +by the way, is not over natural.</p> +<p>The captain having blown up his own ship in an engagement, returns +to England abandoned and undone, accompanied by his page and his friend, +without knowing the friendship of the one or the tender passion of the +other. Immediately he goes to the jewel among women, who he expected +had preserved her fidelity to him and the treasure he had left in her +hands. He meets with her indeed, but married to the honest knave +in whom he had reposed so much confidence, and finds she had acted as +treacherously with regard to the casket he had entrusted her with. +The captain can scarce think it possible that a woman of virtue and +honour can act so vile a part; but to convince him still more of the +reality of it, this very worthy lady falls in love with the little page, +and will force him to her embraces. But as it is requisite justice +should be done, and that in a dramatic piece virtue ought to be rewarded +and vice punished, it is at last found that the captain takes his page’s +place, and lies with his faithless mistress, cuckolds his treacherous +friend, thrusts his sword through his body, recovers his casket, and +marries his page. You will observe that this play is also larded +with a petulant, litigious old woman (a relation of the captain), who +is the most comical character that was ever brought upon the stage.</p> +<p>Wycherley has also copied from Molière another play, of as +singular and bold a cast, which is a kind of <i>Ecole des Femmes</i>, +or, <i>School for Married Women</i>.</p> +<p>The principal character in this comedy is one Homer, a sly fortune +hunter, and the terror of all the City husbands. This fellow, +in order to play a surer game, causes a report to be spread, that in +his last illness, the surgeons had found it necessary to have him made +a eunuch. Upon his appearing in this noble character, all the +husbands in town flock to him with their wives, and now poor Homer is +only puzzled about his choice. However, he gives the preference +particularly to a little female peasant, a very harmless, innocent creature, +who enjoys a fine flush of health, and cuckolds her husband with a simplicity +that has infinitely more merit than the witty malice of the most experienced +ladies. This play cannot indeed be called the school of good morals, +but it is certainly the school of wit and true humour.</p> +<p>Sir John Vanbrugh has written several comedies, which are more humorous +than those of Mr. Wycherley, but not so ingenious. Sir John was +a man of pleasure, and likewise a poet and an architect. The general +opinion is, that he is as sprightly in his writings as he is heavy in +his buildings. It is he who raised the famous Castle of Blenheim, +a ponderous and lasting monument of our unfortunate Battle of Hochstet. +Were the apartments but as spacious as the walls are thick, this castle +would be commodious enough. Some wag, in an epitaph he made on +Sir John Vanbrugh, has these lines:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Earth lie light on him, for he<br /> +Laid many a heavy load on thee.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Sir John having taken a tour into France before the glorious war +that broke out in 1701, was thrown into the Bastille, and detained there +for some time, without being ever able to discover the motive which +had prompted our ministry to indulge him with this mark of their distinction. +He wrote a comedy during his confinement; and a circumstance which appears +to me very extraordinary is, that we don’t meet with so much as +a single satirical stroke against the country in which he had been so +injuriously treated.</p> +<p>The late Mr. Congreve raised the glory of comedy to a greater height +than any English writer before or since his time. He wrote only +a few plays, but they are all excellent in their kind. The laws +of the drama are strictly observed in them; they abound with characters +all which are shadowed with the utmost delicacy, and we don’t +meet with so much as one low or coarse jest. The language is everywhere +that of men of honour, but their actions are those of knaves—a +proof that he was perfectly well acquainted with human nature, and frequented +what we call polite company. He was infirm and come to the verge +of life when I knew him. Mr. Congreve had one defect, which was +his entertaining too mean an idea of his first profession (that of a +writer), though it was to this he owed his fame and fortune. He +spoke of his works as of trifles that were beneath him; and hinted to +me, in our first conversation, that I should visit him upon no other +footing than that of a gentleman who led a life of plainness and simplicity. +I answered, that had he been so unfortunate as to be a mere gentleman, +I should never have come to see him; and I was very much disgusted at +so unseasonable a piece of vanity.</p> +<p>Mr. Congreve’s comedies are the most witty and regular, those +of Sir John Vanbrugh most gay and humorous, and those of Mr. Wycherley +have the greatest force and spirit. It may be proper to observe +that these fine geniuses never spoke disadvantageously of Molière; +and that none but the contemptible writers among the English have endeavoured +to lessen the character of that great comic poet. Such Italian +musicians as despise Lully are themselves persons of no character or +ability; but a Buononcini esteems that great artist, and does justice +to his merit.</p> +<p>The English have some other good comic writers living, such as Sir +Richard Steele and Mr. Cibber, who is an excellent player, and also +Poet Laureate—a title which, how ridiculous soever it may be thought, +is yet worth a thousand crowns a year (besides some considerable privileges) +to the person who enjoys it. Our illustrious Corneille had not +so much.</p> +<p>To conclude. Don’t desire me to descend to particulars +with regard to these English comedies, which I am so fond of applauding; +nor to give you a single smart saying or humorous stroke from Wycherley +or Congreve. We don’t laugh in rending a translation. +If you have a mind to understand the English comedy, the only way to +do this will be for you to go to England, to spend three years in London, +to make yourself master of the English tongue, and to frequent the playhouse +every night. I receive but little pleasure from the perusal of +Aristophanes and Plautus, and for this reason, because I am neither +a Greek nor a Roman. The delicacy of the humour, the allusion, +the <i>à propos</i>—all these are lost to a foreigner.</p> +<p>But it is different with respect to tragedy, this treating only of +exalted passions and heroical follies, which the antiquated errors of +fable or history have made sacred. Œdipus, Electra, and +such-like characters, may with as much propriety be treated of by the +Spaniards, the English, or us, as by the Greeks. But true comedy +is the speaking picture of the follies and ridiculous foibles of a nation; +so that he only is able to judge of the painting who is perfectly acquainted +with the people it represents.</p> +<h3>LETTER XX.—ON SUCH OF THE NOBILITY AS CULTIVATE THE BELLES +LETTRES</h3> +<p>There once was a time in France when the polite arts were cultivated +by persons of the highest rank in the state. The courtiers particularly +were conversant in them, although indolence, a taste for trifles, and +a passion for intrigue, were the divinities of the country. The +Court methinks at this time seems to have given into a taste quite opposite +to that of polite literature, but perhaps the mode of thinking may be +revived in a little time. The French are of so flexible a disposition, +may be moulded into such a variety of shapes, that the monarch needs +but command and he is immediately obeyed. The English generally +think, and learning is had in greater honour among them than in our +country—an advantage that results naturally from the form of their +government. There are about eight hundred persons in England who +have a right to speak in public, and to support the interest of the +kingdom; and near five or six thousand may in their turns aspire to +the same honour. The whole nation set themselves up as judges +over these, and every man has the liberty of publishing his thoughts +with regard to public affairs, which shows that all the people in general +are indispensably obliged to cultivate their understandings. In +England the governments of Greece and Rome are the subject of every +conversation, so that every man is under a necessity of perusing such +authors as treat of them, how disagreeable soever it may be to him; +and this study leads naturally to that of polite literature. Mankind +in general speak well in their respective professions. What is +the reason why our magistrates, our lawyers, our physicians, and a great +number of the clergy, are abler scholars, have a finer taste, and more +wit, than persons of all other professions? The reason is, because +their condition of life requires a cultivated and enlightened mind, +in the same manner as a merchant is obliged to be acquainted with his +traffic. Not long since an English nobleman, who was very young, +came to see me at Paris on his return from Italy. He had written +a poetical description of that country, which, for delicacy and politeness, +may vie with anything we meet with in the Earl of Rochester, or in our +Chaulieu, our Sarrasin, or Chapelle. The translation I have given +of it is so inexpressive of the strength and delicate humour of the +original, that I am obliged seriously to ask pardon of the author and +of all who understand English. However, as this is the only method +I have to make his lordship’s verses known, I shall here present +you with them in our tongue:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Qu’ay je donc vû dans l’Italie?<br /> +Orgueil, astuce, et pauvreté,<br /> +Grands complimens, peu de bonté<br /> +Et beaucoup de ceremonie.</p> +<p>“L’extravagante comedie<br /> +Que souvent l’Inquisition<br /> +Vent qu’on nomme religion<br /> +Mais qu’ici nous nommons folie.</p> +<p>“La Nature en vain bienfaisante<br /> +Vent enricher ses lieux charmans,<br /> +Des prêtres la main desolante<br /> +Etouffe ses plus beaux présens.</p> +<p>“Les monsignors, soy disant Grands,<br /> +Seuls dans leurs palais magnifiques<br /> +Y sont d’illustres faineants,<br /> +Sans argent, et sans domestiques.</p> +<p>“Pour les petits, sans liberté,<br /> +Martyrs du joug qui les domine,<br /> +Ils ont fait voeu de pauvreté,<br /> +Priant Dieu par oisiveté<br /> +Et toujours jeunant par famine.</p> +<p>“Ces beaux lieux du Pape benis<br /> +Semblent habitez par les diables;<br /> +Et les habitans miserables<br /> +Sont damnes dans le Paradis.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>LETTER XXI.—ON THE EARL OF ROCHESTER AND MR. WALLER</h3> +<p>The Earl of Rochester’s name is universally known. Mr. +de St. Evremont has made very frequent mention of him, but then he has +represented this famous nobleman in no other light than as the man of +pleasure, as one who was the idol of the fair; but, with regard to myself, +I would willingly describe in him the man of genius, the great poet. +Among other pieces which display the shining imagination, his lordship +only could boast he wrote some satires on the same subjects as those +our celebrated Boileau made choice of. I do not know any better +method of improving the taste than to compare the productions of such +great geniuses as have exercised their talent on the same subject. +Boileau declaims as follows against human reason in his “Satire +on Man:”</p> +<blockquote><p>“Cependant à le voir plein de vapeurs légeres,<br /> +Soi-même se bercer de ses propres chimeres,<br /> +Lui seul de la nature est la baze et l’appui,<br /> +Et le dixieme ciel ne tourne que pour lui.<br /> +De tous les animaux il est ici le maître;<br /> +Qui pourroit le nier, poursuis tu? Moi peut-être.<br /> +Ce maître prétendu qui leur donne des loix,<br /> +Ce roi des animaux, combien a-t’il de rois?”</p> +<p>“Yet, pleased with idle whimsies of his brain,<br /> +And puffed with pride, this haughty thing would fain<br /> +Be think himself the only stay and prop<br /> +That holds the mighty frame of Nature up.<br /> +The skies and stars his properties must seem,<br /> +* * *<br /> +Of all the creatures he’s the lord, he cries.<br /> +* * *<br /> +And who is there, say you, that dares deny<br /> +So owned a truth? That may be, sir, do I.<br /> +* * *<br /> +This boasted monarch of the world who awes<br /> +The creatures here, and with his nod gives laws<br /> +This self-named king, who thus pretends to be<br /> +The lord of all, how many lords has he?”</p> +<p>OLDHAM, <i>a little altered</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The Lord Rochester expresses himself, in his “Satire against +Man,” in pretty near the following manner. But I must first +desire you always to remember that the versions I give you from the +English poets are written with freedom and latitude, and that the restraint +of our versification, and the delicacies of the French tongue, will +not allow a translator to convey into it the licentious impetuosity +and fire of the English numbers:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Cet esprit que je haïs, cet esprit plein +d’erreur,<br /> +Ce n’est pas ma raison, c’est la tienne, docteur.<br /> +C’est la raison frivôle, inquiete, orgueilleuse<br /> +Des sages animaux, rivale dédaigneuse,<br /> +Qui croit entr’eux et l’Ange, occuper le milieu,<br /> +Et pense être ici bas l’image de son Dieu.<br /> +Vil atôme imparfait, qui croit, doute, dispute<br /> +Rampe, s’élève, tombe, et nie encore sa chûte,<br /> +Qui nous dit je suis libre, en nous montrant ses fers,<br /> +Et dont l’œil trouble et faux, croit percer l’univers.<br /> +Allez, reverends fous, bienheureux fanatiques,<br /> +Compilez bien l’amas de vos riens scholastiques,<br /> +Pères de visions, et d’enigmes sacres,<br /> +Auteurs du labirinthe, où vous vous égarez.<br /> +Allez obscurement éclaircir vos mistères,<br /> +Et courez dans l’école adorer vos chimères.<br /> +Il est d’autres erreurs, il est de ces dévots<br /> +Condamné par eux mêmes à l’ennui du repos.<br /> +Ce mystique encloîtré, fier de son indolence<br /> +Tranquille, au sein de Dieu. Que peut il faire? Il pense.<br /> +Non, tu ne penses point, misérable, tu dors:<br /> +Inutile à la terre, et mis au rang des morts.<br /> +Ton esprit énervé croupit dans la molesse.<br /> +Reveille toi, sois homme, et sors de ton ivresse.<br /> +L’homme est né pour agir, et tu pretens penser?” +&c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The original runs thus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Hold mighty man, I cry all this we know,<br /> +And ’tis this very reason I despise,<br /> +This supernatural gift that makes a mite<br /> +Think he’s the image of the Infinite;<br /> +Comparing his short life, void of all rest,<br /> +To the eternal and the ever blest.<br /> +This busy, puzzling stirrer up of doubt,<br /> +That frames deep mysteries, then finds them out,<br /> +Filling, with frantic crowds of thinking fools,<br /> +Those reverend bedlams, colleges, and schools;<br /> +Borne on whose wings each heavy sot can pierce<br /> +The limits of the boundless universe.<br /> +So charming ointments make an old witch fly,<br /> +And bear a crippled carcase through the sky.<br /> +’Tis this exalted power, whose business lies<br /> +In nonsense and impossibilities.<br /> +This made a whimsical philosopher<br /> +Before the spacious world his tub prefer;<br /> +And we have modern cloistered coxcombs, who<br /> +Retire to think, ’cause they have naught to do.<br /> +But thoughts are given for action’s government,<br /> +Where action ceases, thought’s impertinent.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Whether these ideas are true or false, it is certain they are expressed +with an energy and fire which form the poet. I shall be very far +from attempting to examine philosophically into these verses, to lay +down the pencil, and take up the rule and compass on this occasion; +my only design in this letter being to display the genius of the English +poets, and therefore I shall continue in the same view.</p> +<p>The celebrated Mr. Waller has been very much talked of in France, +and Mr. De la Fontaine, St. Evremont, and Bayle have written his eulogium, +but still his name only is known. He had much the same reputation +in London as Voiture had in Paris, and in my opinion deserved it better. +Voiture was born in an age that was just emerging from barbarity; an +age that was still rude and ignorant, the people of which aimed at wit, +though they had not the least pretensions to it, and sought for points +and conceits instead of sentiments. Bristol stones are more easily +found than diamonds. Voiture, born with an easy and frivolous, +genius, was the first who shone in this aurora of French literature. +Had he come into the world after those great geniuses who spread such +a glory over the age of Louis XIV., he would either have been unknown, +would have been despised, or would have corrected his style. Boileau +applauded him, but it was in his first satires, at a time when the taste +of that great poet was not yet formed. He was young, and in an +age when persons form a judgment of men from their reputation, and not +from their writings. Besides, Boileau was very partial both in +his encomiums and his censures. He applauded Segrais, whose works +nobody reads; he abused Quinault, whose poetical pieces every one has +got by heart; and is wholly silent upon La Fontaine. Waller, though +a better poet than Voiture, was not yet a finished poet. The graces +breathe in such of Waller’s works as are writ in a tender strain; +but then they are languid through negligence, and often disfigured with +false thoughts. The English had not in his time attained the art +of correct writing. But his serious compositions exhibit a strength +and vigour which could not have been expected from the softness and +effeminacy of his other pieces. He wrote an elegy on Oliver Cromwell, +which, with all its faults, is nevertheless looked upon as a masterpiece. +To understand this copy of verses you are to know that the day Oliver +died was remarkable for a great storm. His poem begins in this +manner:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Il n’est plus, s’en est fait, soumettons +nous au sort,<br /> +Le ciel a signalé ce jour par des tempêtes,<br /> +Et la voix des tonnerres éclatant sur nos têtes<br /> +Vient d’annoncer sa mort.</p> +<p>“Par ses derniers soupirs il ébranle cet île;<br /> +Cet île que son bras fit trembler tant de fois,<br /> +Quand dans le cours de ses exploits,<br /> +Il brisoit la téte des Rois,<br /> +Et soumettoit un peuple à son joug seul docile.</p> +<p>“Mer tu t’en es troublé; O mer tes flots émus<br /> +Semblent dire en grondant aux plus lointains rivages<br /> +Que l’effroi de la terre et ton maître n’est plus.</p> +<p>“Tel au ciel autrefois s’envola Romulus,<br /> +Tel il quitta la Terre, au milieu des orages,<br /> +Tel d’un peuple guerrier il reçut les homages;<br /> +Obéï dans sa vie, sa mort adoré,<br /> +Son palais fut un Temple,” &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<blockquote><p>“We must resign! heaven his great soul does claim<br /> +In storms as loud as his immortal fame;<br /> +His dying groans, his last breath shakes our isle,<br /> +And trees uncut fall for his funeral pile:<br /> +About his palace their broad roots are tost<br /> +Into the air; so Romulus was lost!<br /> +New Rome in such a tempest missed her king,<br /> +And from obeying fell to worshipping.<br /> +On Œta’s top thus Hercules lay dead,<br /> +With ruined oaks and pines about him spread.<br /> +Nature herself took notice of his death,<br /> +And, sighing, swelled the sea with such a breath,<br /> +That to remotest shores the billows rolled,<br /> +Th’ approaching fate of his great ruler told.”</p> +<p>WALLER.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It was this elogium that gave occasion to the reply (taken notice +of in Bayle’s Dictionary), which Waller made to King Charles II. +This king, to whom Waller had a little before (as is usual with bards +and monarchs) presented a copy of verses embroidered with praises, reproached +the poet for not writing with so much energy and fire as when he had +applauded the Usurper (meaning Oliver). “Sir,” replied +Waller to the king, “we poets succeed better in fiction than in +truth.” This answer was not so sincere as that which a Dutch +ambassador made, who, when the same monarch complained that his masters +paid less regard to him than they had done to Cromwell. “Ah, +sir!” says the Ambassador, “Oliver was quite another man—” +It is not my intent to give a commentary on Waller’s character, +nor on that of any other person; for I consider men after their death +in no other light than as they were writers, and wholly disregard everything +else. I shall only observe that Waller, though born in a court, +and to an estate of five or six thousand pounds sterling a year, was +never so proud or so indolent as to lay aside the happy talent which +Nature had indulged him. The Earls of Dorset and Roscommon, the +two Dukes of Buckingham, the Lord Halifax, and so many other noblemen, +did not think the reputation they obtained of very great poets and illustrious +writers, any way derogatory to their quality. They are more glorious +for their works than for their titles. These cultivated the polite +arts with as much assiduity as though they had been their whole dependence.</p> +<p>They also have made learning appear venerable in the eyes of the +vulgar, who have need to be led in all things by the great; and who, +nevertheless, fashion their manners less after those of the nobility +(in England I mean) than in any other country in the world.</p> +<h3>LETTER XXII.—ON MR. POPE AND SOME OTHER FAMOUS POETS</h3> +<p>I intended to treat of Mr. Prior, one of the most amiable English +poets, whom you saw Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary at Paris +in 1712. I also designed to have given you some idea of the Lord +Roscommon’s and the Lord Dorset’s muse; but I find that +to do this I should be obliged to write a large volume, and that, after +much pains and trouble, you would have but an imperfect idea of all +those works. Poetry is a kind of music in which a man should have +some knowledge before he pretends to judge of it. When I give +you a translation of some passages from those foreign poets, I only +prick down, and that imperfectly, their music; but then I cannot express +the taste of their harmony.</p> +<p>There is one English poem especially which I should despair of ever +making you understand, the title whereof is “Hudibras.” +The subject of it is the Civil War in the time of the grand rebellion, +and the principles and practice of the Puritans are therein ridiculed. +It is Don Quixote, it is our “Satire Menippée” blended +together. I never found so much wit in one single book as in that, +which at the same time is the most difficult to be translated. +Who would believe that a work which paints in such lively and natural +colours the several foibles and follies of mankind, and where we meet +with more sentiments than words, should baffle the endeavours of the +ablest translator? But the reason of this is, almost every part +of it alludes to particular incidents. The clergy are there made +the principal object of ridicule, which is understood but by few among +the laity. To explain this a commentary would be requisite, and +humour when explained is no longer humour. Whoever sets up for +a commentator of smart sayings and repartees is himself a blockhead. +This is the reason why the works of the ingenious Dean Swift, who has +been called the English Rabelais, will never be well understood in France. +This gentleman has the honour (in common with Rabelais) of being a priest, +and, like him, laughs at everything; but, in my humble opinion, the +title of the English Rabelais which is given the dean is highly derogatory +to his genius. The former has interspersed his unaccountably-fantastic +and unintelligible book with the most gay strokes of humour; but which, +at the same time, has a greater proportion of impertinence. He +has been vastly lavish of erudition, of smut, and insipid raillery. +An agreeable tale of two pages is purchased at the expense of whole +volumes of nonsense. There are but few persons, and those of a +grotesque taste, who pretend to understand and to esteem this work; +for, as to the rest of the nation, they laugh at the pleasant and diverting +touches which are found in Rabelais and despise his book. He is +looked upon as the prince of buffoons. The readers are vexed to +think that a man who was master of so much wit should have made so wretched +a use of it; he is an intoxicated philosopher who never wrote but when +he was in liquor.</p> +<p>Dean Swift is Rabelais in his senses, and frequenting the politest +company. The former, indeed, is not so gay as the latter, but +then he possesses all the delicacy, the justness, the choice, the good +taste, in all which particulars our giggling rural Vicar Rabelais is +wanting. The poetical numbers of Dean Swift are of a singular +and almost inimitable taste; true humour, whether in prose or verse, +seems to be his peculiar talent; but whoever is desirous of understanding +him perfectly must visit the island in which he was born.</p> +<p>It will be much easier for you to form an idea of Mr. Pope’s +works. He is, in my opinion, the most elegant, the most correct +poet; and, at the same time, the most harmonious (a circumstance which +redounds very much to the honour of this muse) that England ever gave +birth to. He has mellowed the harsh sounds of the English trumpet +to the soft accents of the flute. His compositions may be easily +translated, because they are vastly clear and perspicuous; besides, +most of his subjects are general, and relative to all nations.</p> +<p>His “Essay on Criticism” will soon be known in France +by the translation which l’Abbé de Resnel has made of it.</p> +<p>Here is an extract from his poem entitled the “Rape of the +Lock,” which I just now translated with the latitude I usually +take on these occasions; for, once again, nothing can be more ridiculous +than to translate a poet literally:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Umbriel, à l’instant, vieil gnome +rechigné,<br /> +Va d’une aîle pesante et d’un air renfrogné<br /> +Chercher en murmurant la caverne profonde,<br /> +Où loin des doux raïons que répand l’œil +du monde<br /> +La Déesse aux Vapeurs a choisi son séjour,<br /> +Les Tristes Aquilons y sifflent à l’entour,<br /> +Et le souffle mal sain de leur aride haleine<br /> +Y porte aux environs la fievre et la migraine.<br /> +Sur un riche sofa derrière un paravent<br /> +Loin des flambeaux, du bruit, des parleurs et du vent,<br /> +La quinteuse déesse incessamment repose,<br /> +Le coeur gros de chagrin, sans en savoir la cause.<br /> +N’aiant pensé jamais, l’esprit toujours troublé,<br /> +L’œil chargé, le teint pâle, et l’hypocondre +enflé.<br /> +La médisante Envie, est assise auprès d’elle,<br /> +Vieil spectre féminin, décrépite pucelle,<br /> +Avec un air devot déchirant son prochain,<br /> +Et chansonnant les Gens l’Evangile à la main.<br /> +Sur un lit plein de fleurs negligemment panchée<br /> +Une jeune beauté non loin d’elle est couchée,<br /> +C’est l’Affectation qui grassaïe en parlant,<br /> +Écoute sans entendre, et lorgne en regardant.<br /> +Qui rougit sans pudeur, et rit de tout sans joie,<br /> +De cent maux différens prétend qu’elle est la proïe;<br /> +Et pleine de santé sous le rouge et le fard,<br /> +Se plaint avec molesse, et se pame avec art.”</p> +<p>“Umbriel, a dusky, melancholy sprite<br /> +As ever sullied the fair face of light,<br /> +Down to the central earth, his proper scene,<br /> +Repairs to search the gloomy cave of Spleen.<br /> +Swift on his sooty pinions flits the gnome,<br /> +And in a vapour reached the dismal dome.<br /> +No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows,<br /> +The dreaded east is all the wind that blows.<br /> +Here, in a grotto, sheltered close from air,<br /> +And screened in shades from day’s detested glare,<br /> +She sighs for ever on her pensive bed,<br /> +Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head,<br /> +Two handmaids wait the throne. Alike in place,<br /> +But differing far in figure and in face,<br /> +Here stood Ill-nature, like an ancient maid,<br /> +Her wrinkled form in black and white arrayed;<br /> +With store of prayers for mornings, nights, and noons,<br /> +Her hand is filled; her bosom with lampoons.<br /> +There Affectation, with a sickly mien,<br /> +Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen,<br /> +Practised to lisp, and hang the head aside,<br /> +Faints into airs, and languishes with pride;<br /> +On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe,<br /> +Wrapt in a gown, for sickness and for show.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This extract, in the original (not in the faint translation I have +given you of it), may be compared to the description of <i>la Molesse</i> +(softness or effeminacy), in Boileau’s “Lutrin.”</p> +<p>Methinks I now have given you specimens enough from the English poets. +I have made some transient mention of their philosophers, but as for +good historians among them, I don’t know of any; and, indeed, +a Frenchman was forced to write their history. Possibly the English +genius, which is either languid or impetuous, has not yet acquired that +unaffected eloquence, that plain but majestic air which history requires. +Possibly too, the spirit of party which exhibits objects in a dim and +confused light may have sunk the credit of their historians. One +half of the nation is always at variance with the other half. +I have met with people who assured me that the Duke of Marlborough was +a coward, and that Mr. Pope was a fool; just as some Jesuits in France +declare Pascal to have been a man of little or no genius, and some Jansenists +affirm Father Bourdaloüe to have been a mere babbler. The +Jacobites consider Mary Queen of Scots as a pious heroine, but those +of an opposite party look upon her as a prostitute, an adulteress, a +murderer. Thus the English have memorials of the several reigns, +but no such thing as a history. There is, indeed, now living, +one Mr. Gordon (the public are obliged to him for a translation of Tacitus), +who is very capable of writing the history of his own country, but Rapin +de Thoyras got the start of him. To conclude, in my opinion the +English have not such good historians as the French have no such thing +as a real tragedy, have several delightful comedies, some wonderful +passages in certain of their poems, and boast of philosophers that are +worthy of instructing mankind. The English have reaped very great +benefit from the writers of our nation, and therefore we ought (since +they have not scrupled to be in our debt) to borrow from them. +Both the English and we came after the Italians, who have been our instructors +in all the arts, and whom we have surpassed in some. I cannot +determine which of the three nations ought to be honoured with the palm; +but happy the writer who could display their various merits.</p> +<h3>LETTER XXIII.—ON THE REGARD THAT OUGHT TO BE SHOWN TO MEN +OF LETTERS</h3> +<p>Neither the English nor any other people have foundations established +in favour of the polite arts like those in France. There are Universities +in most countries, but it is in France only that we meet with so beneficial +an encouragement for astronomy and all parts of the mathematics, for +physic, for researches into antiquity, for painting, sculpture, and +architecture. Louis XIV. has immortalised his name by these several +foundations, and this immortality did not cost him two hundred thousand +livres a year.</p> +<p>I must confess that one of the things I very much wonder at is, that +as the Parliament of Great Britain have promised a reward of £20,000 +sterling to any person who may discover the longitude, they should never +have once thought to imitate Louis XIV. in his munificence with regard +to the arts and sciences.</p> +<p>Merit, indeed, meets in England with rewards of another kind, which +redound more to the honour of the nation. The English have so +great a veneration for exalted talents, that a man of merit in their +country is always sure of making his fortune. Mr. Addison in France +would have been elected a member of one of the academies, and, by the +credit of some women, might have obtained a yearly pension of twelve +hundred livres, or else might have been imprisoned in the Bastile, upon +pretence that certain strokes in his tragedy of <i>Cato</i> had been +discovered which glanced at the porter of some man in power. Mr. +Addison was raised to the post of Secretary of State in England. +Sir Isaac Newton was made Master of the Royal Mint. Mr. Congreve +had a considerable employment. Mr. Prior was Plenipotentiary. +Dr. Swift is Dean of St. Patrick in Dublin, and is more revered in Ireland +than the Primate himself. The religion which Mr. Pope professes +excludes him, indeed, from preferments of every kind, but then it did +not prevent his gaining two hundred thousand livres by his excellent +translation of Homer. I myself saw a long time in France the author +of <i>Rhadamistus</i> ready to perish for hunger. And the son +of one of the greatest men our country ever gave birth to, and who was +beginning to run the noble career which his father had set him, would +have been reduced to the extremes of misery had he not been patronised +by Monsieur Fagon.</p> +<p>But the circumstance which mostly encourages the arts in England +is the great veneration which is paid them. The picture of the +Prime Minister hangs over the chimney of his own closet, but I have +seen that of Mr. Pope in twenty noblemen’s houses. Sir Isaac +Newton was revered in his lifetime, and had a due respect paid to him +after his death; the greatest men in the nation disputing who should +have the honour of holding up his pall. Go into Westminster Abbey, +and you will find that what raises the admiration of the spectator is +not the mausoleums of the English kings, but the monuments which the +gratitude of the nation has erected to perpetuate the memory of those +illustrious men who contributed to its glory. We view their statues +in that abbey in the same manner as those of Sophocles, Plato, and other +immortal personages were viewed in Athens; and I am persuaded that the +bare sight of those glorious monuments has fired more than one breast, +and been the occasion of their becoming great men.</p> +<p>The English have even been reproached with paying too extravagant +honours to mere merit, and censured for interring the celebrated actress +Mrs. Oldfield in Westminster Abbey, with almost the same pomp as Sir +Isaac Newton. Some pretend that the English had paid her these +great funeral honours, purposely to make us more strongly sensible of +the barbarity and injustice which they object to us, for having buried +Mademoiselle Le Couvreur ignominiously in the fields.</p> +<p>But be assured from me, that the English were prompted by no other +principle in burying Mrs. Oldfield in Westminster Abbey than their good +sense. They are far from being so ridiculous as to brand with +infamy an art which has immortalised a Euripides and a Sophocles; or +to exclude from the body of their citizens a set of people whose business +is to set off with the utmost grace of speech and action those pieces +which the nation is proud of.</p> +<p>Under the reign of Charles I. and in the beginning of the civil wars +raised by a number of rigid fanatics, who at last were the victims to +it; a great many pieces were published against theatrical and other +shows, which were attacked with the greater virulence because that monarch +and his queen, daughter to Henry I. of France, were passionately fond +of them.</p> +<p>One Mr. Prynne, a man of most furiously scrupulous principles, who +would have thought himself damned had he worn a cassock instead of a +short cloak, and have been glad to see one-half of mankind cut the other +to pieces for the glory of God, and the <i>Propaganda Fide</i>; took +it into his head to write a most wretched satire against some pretty +good comedies, which were exhibited very innocently every night before +their majesties. He quoted the authority of the Rabbis, and some +passages from St. Bonaventure, to prove that the Œdipus of Sophocles +was the work of the evil spirit; that Terence was excommunicated <i>ipso +facto</i>; and added, that doubtless Brutus, who was a very severe Jansenist, +assassinated Julius Cæsar for no other reason but because he, +who was Pontifex Maximus, presumed to write a tragedy the subject of +which was Œdipus. Lastly, he declared that all who frequented +the theatre were excommunicated, as they thereby renounced their baptism. +This was casting the highest insult on the king and all the royal family; +and as the English loved their prince at that time, they could not bear +to hear a writer talk of excommunicating him, though they themselves +afterwards cut his head off. Prynne was summoned to appear before +the Star Chamber; his wonderful book, from which Father Le Brun stole +his, was sentenced to be burnt by the common hangman, and himself to +lose his ears. His trial is now extant.</p> +<p>The Italians are far from attempting to cast a blemish on the opera, +or to excommunicate Signor Senesino or Signora Cuzzoni. With regard +to myself, I could presume to wish that the magistrates would suppress +I know not what contemptible pieces written against the stage. +For when the English and Italians hear that we brand with the greatest +mark of infamy an art in which we excel; that we excommunicate persons +who receive salaries from the king; that we condemn as impious a spectacle +exhibited in convents and monasteries; that we dishonour sports in which +Louis XIV. and Louis XV., performed as actors; that we give the title +of the devil’s works to pieces which are received by magistrates +of the most severe character, and represented before a virtuous queen; +when, I say, foreigners are told of this insolent conduct, this contempt +for the royal authority, and this Gothic rusticity which some presume +to call Christian severity, what an idea must they entertain of our +nation? And how will it be possible for them to conceive, either +that our laws give a sanction to an art which is declared infamous, +or that some persons dare to stamp with infamy an art which receives +a sanction from the laws, is rewarded by kings, cultivated and encouraged +by the greatest men, and admired by whole nations? And that Father +Le Brun’s impertinent libel against the stage is seen in a bookseller’s +shop, standing the very next to the immortal labours of Racine, of Corneille, +of Molière, &c.</p> +<h3>LETTER XXIV.—ON THE ROYAL SOCIETY AND OTHER ACADEMIES</h3> +<p>The English had an Academy of Sciences many years before us, but +then it is not under such prudent regulations as ours, the only reason +of which very possibly is, because it was founded before the Academy +of Paris; for had it been founded after, it would very probably have +adopted some of the sage laws of the former and improved upon others.</p> +<p>Two things, and those the most essential to man, are wanting in the +Royal Society of London, I mean rewards and laws. A seat in the +Academy at Paris is a small but secure fortune to a geometrician or +a chemist; but this is so far from being the case at London, that the +several members of the Royal Society are at a continual, though indeed +small expense. Any man in England who declares himself a lover +of the mathematics and natural philosophy, and expresses an inclination +to be a member of the Royal Society, is immediately elected into it. +But in France it is not enough that a man who aspires to the honour +of being a member of the Academy, and of receiving the royal stipend, +has a love for the sciences; he must at the same time be deeply skilled +in them; and is obliged to dispute the seat with competitors who are +so much the more formidable as they are fired by a principle of glory, +by interest, by the difficulty itself; and by that inflexibility of +mind which is generally found in those who devote themselves to that +pertinacious study, the mathematics.</p> +<p>The Academy of Sciences is prudently confined to the study of Nature, +and, indeed, this is a field spacious enough for fifty or threescore +persons to range in. That of London mixes indiscriminately literature +with physics; but methinks the founding an academy merely for the polite +arts is more judicious, as it prevents confusion, and the joining, in +some measure, of heterogeneals, such as a dissertation on the head-dresses +of the Roman ladies with a hundred or more new curves.</p> +<p>As there is very little order and regularity in the Royal Society, +and not the least encouragement; and that the Academy of Paris is on +a quite different foot, it is no wonder that our transactions are drawn +up in a more just and beautiful manner than those of the English. +Soldiers who are under a regular discipline, and besides well paid, +must necessarily at last perform more glorious achievements than others +who are mere volunteers. It must indeed be confessed that the +Royal Society boast their Newton, but then he did not owe his knowledge +and discoveries to that body; so far from it, that the latter were intelligible +to very few of his fellow members. A genius like that of Sir Isaac +belonged to all the academies in the world, because all had a thousand +things to learn of him.</p> +<p>The celebrated Dean Swift formed a design, in the latter end of the +late Queen’s reign, to found an academy for the English tongue +upon the model of that of the French. This project was promoted +by the late Earl of Oxford, Lord High Treasurer, and much more by the +Lord Bolingbroke, Secretary of State, who had the happy talent of speaking +without premeditation in the Parliament House with as much purity as +Dean Swift wrote in his closet, and who would have been the ornament +and protector of that academy. Those only would have been chosen +members of it whose works will last as long as the English tongue, such +as Dean Swift, Mr. Prior, whom we saw here invested with a public character, +and whose fame in England is equal to that of La Fontaine in France; +Mr. Pope, the English Boileau, Mr. Congreve, who may be called their +Molière, and several other eminent persons whose names I have +forgot; all these would have raised the glory of that body to a great +height even in its infancy. But Queen Anne being snatched suddenly +from the world, the Whigs were resolved to ruin the protectors of the +intended academy, a circumstance that was of the most fatal consequence +to polite literature. The members of this academy would have had +a very great advantage over those who first formed that of the French, +for Swift, Prior, Congreve, Dryden, Pope, Addison, &c. had fixed +the English tongue by their writings; whereas Chapelain, Colletet, Cassaigne, +Faret, Perrin, Cotin, our first academicians, were a disgrace to their +country; and so much ridicule is now attached to their very names, that +if an author of some genius in this age had the misfortune to be called +Chapelain or Cotin, he would be under a necessity of changing his name.</p> +<p>One circumstance, to which the English Academy should especially +have attended, is to have prescribed to themselves occupations of a +quite different kind from those with which our academicians amuse themselves. +A wit of this country asked me for the memoirs of the French Academy. +I answered, they have no memoirs, but have printed threescore or fourscore +volumes in quarto of compliments. The gentleman perused one or +two of them, but without being able to understand the style in which +they were written, though he understood all our good authors perfectly. +“All,” says he, “I see in these elegant discourses +is, that the member elect having assured the audience that his predecessor +was a great man, that Cardinal Richelieu was a very great man, that +the Chancellor Seguier was a pretty great man, that Louis XIV. was a +more than great man, the director answers in the very same strain, and +adds, that the member elect may also be a sort of great man, and that +himself, in quality of director, must also have some share in this greatness.”</p> +<p>The cause why all these academical discourses have unhappily done +so little honour to this body is evident enough. <i>Vitium est +temporis potiùs quam hominis</i> (the fault is owing to the age +rather than to particular persons). It grew up insensibly into +a custom for every academician to repeat these elogiums at his reception; +it was laid down as a kind of law that the public should be indulged +from time to time the sullen satisfaction of yawning over these productions. +If the reason should afterwards be sought, why the greatest geniuses +who have been incorporated into that body have sometimes made the worst +speeches, I answer, that it is wholly owing to a strong propension, +the gentlemen in question had to shine, and to display a thread-bare, +worn-out subject in a new and uncommon light. The necessity of +saying something, the perplexity of having nothing to say, and a desire +of being witty, are three circumstances which alone are capable of making +even the greatest writer ridiculous. These gentlemen, not being +able to strike out any new thoughts, hunted after a new play of words, +and delivered themselves without thinking at all: in like manner as +people who should seem to chew with great eagerness, and make as though +they were eating, at the same time that they were just starved.</p> +<p>It is a law in the French Academy, to publish all those discourses +by which only they are known, but they should rather make a law never +to print any of them.</p> +<p>But the Academy of the <i>Belles Lettres</i> have a more prudent +and more useful object, which is, to present the public with a collection +of transactions that abound with curious researches and critiques. +These transactions are already esteemed by foreigners; and it were only +to be wished that some subjects in them had been more thoroughly examined, +and that others had not been treated at all. As, for instance, +we should have been very well satisfied, had they omitted I know not +what dissertation on the prerogative of the right hand over the left; +and some others, which, though not published under so ridiculous a title, +are yet written on subjects that are almost as frivolous and silly.</p> +<p>The Academy of Sciences, in such of their researches as are of a +more difficult kind and a more sensible use, embrace the knowledge of +nature and the improvements of the arts. We may presume that such +profound, such uninterrupted pursuits as these, such exact calculations, +such refined discoveries, such extensive and exalted views, will, at +last, produce something that may prove of advantage to the universe. +Hitherto, as we have observed together, the most useful discoveries +have been made in the most barbarous times. One would conclude +that the business of the most enlightened ages and the most learned +bodies, is, to argue and debate on things which were invented by ignorant +people. We know exactly the angle which the sail of a ship is +to make with the keel in order to its sailing better; and yet Columbus +discovered America without having the least idea of the property of +this angle: however, I am far from inferring from hence that we are +to confine ourselves merely to a blind practice, but happy it were, +would naturalists and geometricians unite, as much as possible, the +practice with the theory.</p> +<p>Strange, but so it is, that those things which reflect the greatest +honour on the human mind are frequently of the least benefit to it! +A man who understands the four fundamental rules of arithmetic, aided +by a little good sense, shall amass prodigious wealth in trade, shall +become a Sir Peter Delmé, a Sir Richard Hopkins, a Sir Gilbert +Heathcote, whilst a poor algebraist spends his whole life in searching +for astonishing properties and relations in numbers, which at the same +time are of no manner of use, and will not acquaint him with the nature +of exchanges. This is very nearly the case with most of the arts: +there is a certain point beyond which all researches serve to no other +purpose than merely to delight an inquisitive mind. Those ingenious +and useless truths may be compared to stars which, by being placed at +too great a distance, cannot afford us the least light.</p> +<p>With regard to the French Academy, how great a service would they +do to literature, to the language, and the nation, if, instead of publishing +a set of compliments annually, they would give us new editions of the +valuable works written in the age of Louis XIV., purged from the several +errors of diction which are crept into them. There are many of +these errors in Corneille and Molière, but those in La Fontaine +are very numerous. Such as could not be corrected might at least +be pointed out. By this means, as all the Europeans read those +works, they would teach them our language in its utmost purity—which, +by that means, would be fixed to a lasting standard; and valuable French +books being then printed at the King’s expense, would prove one +of the most glorious monuments the nation could boast. I have +been told that Boileau formerly made this proposal, and that it has +since been revived by a gentleman eminent for his genius, his fine sense, +and just taste for criticism; but this thought has met with the fate +of many other useful projects, of being applauded and neglected.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS ON ENGLAND***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 2445-h.htm or 2445-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/4/2445 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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