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@@ -0,0 +1,11931 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Thoughts on Man, by William Godwin + +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: Thoughts on Man + His Nature, Productions and Discoveries, Interspersed with + Some Particulars Respecting the Author + +Author: William Godwin + +Release Date: December, 1996 [Etext #743] +Posting Date: November 30, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS ON MAN *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller + + + + + +THOUGHTS ON MAN + +HIS NATURE, PRODUCTIONS AND DISCOVERIES INTERSPERSED WITH SOME +PARTICULARS RESPECTING THE AUTHOR + + +By William Godwin + + + Oh, the blood more stirs + To rouse a lion, than to start a hare! + + SHAKESPEARE + + +LONDON: + +EFFINGHAM WILSON, ROYAL EXCHANGE. + +1831. + + + + +PREFACE + +In the ensuing volume I have attempted to give a defined and permanent +form to a variety of thoughts, which have occurred to my mind in the +course of thirty-four years, it being so long since I published a +volume, entitled, the Enquirer,--thoughts, which, if they have presented +themselves to other men, have, at least so far as I am aware, never been +given to the public through the medium of the press. During a part of +this period I had remained to a considerable degree unoccupied in my +character of an author, and had delivered little to the press that bore +my name.--And I beg the reader to believe, that, since I entered in +1791 upon that which may be considered as my vocation in life, I +have scarcely in any instance contributed a page to any periodical +miscellany. + +My mind has been constitutionally meditative, and I should not have +felt satisfied, if I had not set in order for publication these special +fruits of my meditations. I had entered upon a certain career; and I +held it for my duty not to abandon it. + +One thing further I feel prompted to say. I have always regarded it as +my office to address myself to plain men, and in clear and unambiguous +terms. It has been my lot to have occasional intercourse with some of +those who consider themselves as profound, who deliver their oracles +in obscure phraseology, and who make it their boast that few men can +understand them, and those few only through a process of abstract +reflection, and by means of unwearied application. + +To this class of the oracular I certainly did not belong. I felt that +I had nothing to say, that it should be very difficult to understand. +I resolved, if I could help it, not to "darken counsel by words without +knowledge." This was my principle in the Enquiry concerning Political +Justice. And I had my reward. I had a numerous audience of all classes, +of every age, and of either sex. The young and the fair did not feel +deterred from consulting my pages. + +It may be that that book was published in a propitious season. I am +told that nothing coming from the press will now be welcomed, unless it +presents itself in the express form of amusement. He who shall propose +to himself for his principal end, to draw aside in one particular or +another the veil from the majesty of intellectual or moral truth, must +lay his account in being received with little attention. + +I have not been willing to believe this: and I publish my speculations +accordingly. I have aimed at a popular, and (if I could reach it) an +interesting style; and, if I am thrust aside and disregarded, I shall +console myself with believing that I have not neglected what it was in +my power to achieve. + +One characteristic of the present publication will not fail to +offer itself to the most superficial reader. I know many men who are +misanthropes, and profess to look down with disdain on their species. My +creed is of an opposite character. All that we observe that is best +and most excellent in the intellectual world, is man: and it is easy to +perceive in many cases, that the believer in mysteries does little +more, than dress up his deity in the choicest of human attributes and +qualifications. I have lived among, and I feel an ardent interest in and +love for, my brethren of mankind. This sentiment, which I regard with +complacency in my own breast, I would gladly cherish in others. In such +a cause I am well pleased to enrol myself a missionary. + + February 15, 1831. + + +The particulars respecting the author, referred to in the title-page, +will be found principally in Essays VII, IX, XIV, and XVIII. + + +CONTENTS + + Essay. + I. Of Body and Mind. The Prologue + II. Of the Distribution of Talents + III. Of Intellectual Abortion + IV. Of the Durability of Human Achievements and Productions + V. Of the Rebelliousness of Man + VI. Of Human Innocence + VII. Of the Duration of Human Life + VIII. Of Human Vegetation + IX. Of Leisure + X. Of Imitation and Invention + XI. Of Self-Love and Benevolence + XII. Of the Liberty of Human Actions + XIII. Of Belief + XIV. Of Youth and Age + XV. Of Love and Friendship + XVI. Of Frankness and Reserve + XVII. Of Ballot + XVIII. Of Diffidence + XIX. Of Self Complacence + XX. Of Phrenology + XXI. Of Astronomy + XXII. Of the Material Universe + XXIII. Of Human Virtue. The Epilogue + + + + +THOUGHTS, &c. + + + + +ESSAY I. OF BODY AND MIND. + +THE PROLOGUE. + +There is no subject that more frequently occupies the attention of the +contemplative than man: yet there are many circumstances concerning him +that we shall hardly admit to have been sufficiently considered. + +Familiarity breeds contempt. That which we see every day and every hour, +it is difficult for us to regard with admiration. To almost every one +of our stronger emotions novelty is a necessary ingredient. The simple +appetites of our nature may perhaps form an exception. The appetite +for food is perpetually renewed in a healthy subject with scarcely any +diminution and love, even the most refined, being combined with one +of our original impulses, will sometimes for that reason withstand a +thousand trials, and perpetuate itself for years. In all other cases it +is required, that a fresh impulse should be given, that attention should +anew be excited, or we cannot admire. Things often seen pass feebly +before our senses, and scarcely awake the languid soul. + +"Man is the most excellent and noble creature of the world, the +principal and mighty work of God, the wonder of nature, the marvel of +marvels(1)." + + + (1) Anatomy of Melancholy, p. 1. + + +Let us have regard to his corporeal structure. There is a simplicity in +it, that at first perhaps we slightly consider. But how exactly is it +fashioned for strength and agility! It is in no way incumbered. It +is like the marble when it comes out of the hand of the consummate +sculptor; every thing unnecessary is carefully chiseled away; and the +joints, the muscles, the articulations, and the veins come out, clean +and finished. It has long ago been observed, that beauty, as well as +virtue, is the middle between all extremes: that nose which is neither +specially long, nor short, nor thick, nor thin, is the perfect nose; and +so of the rest. In like manner, when I speak of man generally, I do not +regard any aberrations of form, obesity, a thick calf, a thin calf; I +take the middle between all extremes; and this is emphatically man. + +Man cannot keep pace with a starting horse: but he can persevere, and +beats him in the end. + +What an infinite variety of works is man by his corporeal form enabled +to accomplish! In this respect he casts the whole creation behind him. + +What a machine is the human hand! When we analyse its parts and its +uses, it appears to be the most consummate of our members. And yet there +are other parts, that may maintain no mean rivalship against it. + +What a sublimity is to be attributed to his upright form! He is not +fashioned, veluti pecora, quae natura prona atque ventri obedientia +finxit. He is made coeli convexa tueri. The looks that are given him in +his original structure, are "looks commercing with the skies." + +How surpassingly beautiful are the features of his countenance; the +eyes, the nose, the mouth! How noble do they appear in a state of +repose! With what never-ending variety and emphasis do they express the +emotions of his mind! In the visage of man, uncorrupted and undebased, +we read the frankness and ingenuousness of his soul, the clearness +of his reflections, the penetration of his spirit. What a volume of +understanding is unrolled in his broad, expanded, lofty brow! In his +countenance we see expressed at one time sedate confidence and awful +intrepidity, and at another godlike condescension and the most melting +tenderness. Who can behold the human eye, suddenly suffused with +moisture, or gushing with tears unbid, and the quivering lip, without +unspeakable emotion? Shakespear talks of an eye, "whose bend could awe +the world." + +What a miraculous thing is the human complexion! We are sent into the +world naked, that all the variations of the blood might be made visible. +However trite, I cannot avoid quoting here the lines of the most +deep-thinking and philosophical of our poets: + + We understood + Her by her sight: her pure and eloquent blood + Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, + That one might almost say her body thought. + +What a curious phenomenon is that of blushing! It is impossible to +witness this phenomenon without interest and sympathy. It comes at once, +unanticipated by the person in whom we behold it. It comes from the +soul, and expresses with equal certainty shame, modesty, and vivid, +uncontrollable affection. It spreads, as it were in so many stages, over +the cheeks, the brow, and the neck, of him or her in whom the sentiment +that gives birth to it is working. + +Thus far I have not mentioned speech, not perhaps the most inestimable +of human gifts, but, if it is not that, it is at least the endowment, +which makes man social, by which principally we impart our sentiments to +each other, and which changes us from solitary individuals, and +bestows on us a duplicate and multipliable existence. Beside which +it incalculably increases the perfection of one. The man who does not +speak, is an unfledged thinker; and the man that does not write, is but +half an investigator. + +Not to enter into all the mysteries of articulate speech and the +irresistible power of eloquence, whether addressed to a single hearer, +or instilled into the ears of many,--a topic that belongs perhaps less +to the chapter of body than mind,--let us for a moment fix our thoughts +steadily upon that little implement, the human voice. Of what unnumbered +modulations is it susceptible! What terror may it inspire! How may it +electrify the soul, and suspend all its functions! How infinite is its +melody! How instantly it subdues the hearer to pity or to love! How does +the listener hang upon every note praying that it may last for ever, + + ----that even silence + Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might + Deny her nature, and be never more, + Still to be so displaced. + +It is here especially that we are presented with the triumphs of +civilisation. How immeasurable is the distance between the voice of the +clown, who never thought of the power that dwells in this faculty, who +delivers himself in a rude, discordant and unmodulated accent, and is +accustomed to confer with his fellow at the distance of two fields, and +the man who understands his instrument as Handel understood the organ, +and who, whether he thinks of it or no, sways those that hear him as +implicitly as Orpheus is said to have subdued the brute creation! + +From the countenance of man let us proceed to his figure. Every limb +is capable of speaking, and telling its own tale. What can equal the +magnificence of the neck, the column upon which the head reposes! The +ample chest may denote an almost infinite strength and power. Let us +call to mind the Apollo Belvidere, and the Venus de Medicis, whose very +"bends are adornings." What loftiness and awe have I seen expressed in +the step of an actress, not yet deceased, when first she advanced, and +came down towards the audience! I was ravished, and with difficulty kept +my seat! Pass we to the mazes of the dance, the inimitable charms and +picturesque beauty that may be given to the figure while still unmoved, +and the ravishing grace that dwells in it during its endless changes and +evolutions. + +The upright figure of man produces, incidentally as it were, and by the +bye, another memorable effect. Hence we derive the power of meeting +in halls, and congregations, and crowded assemblies. We are found "at +large, though without number," at solemn commemorations and on festive +occasions. We touch each other, as the members of a gay party are +accustomed to do, when they wait the stroke of an electrical machine, +and the spark spreads along from man to man. It is thus that we have +our feelings in common at a theatrical representation and at a public +dinner, that indignation is communicated, and patriotism become +irrepressible. + +One man can convey his sentiments in articulate speech to a thousand; +and this is the nursing mother of oratory, of public morality, of public +religion, and the drama. The privilege we thus possess, we are indeed +too apt to abuse; but man is scarcely ever so magnificent and so awful, +as when hundreds of human heads are assembled together, hundreds of +faces lifted up to contemplate one object, and hundreds of voices +uttered in the expression of one common sentiment. + +But, notwithstanding the infinite beauty, the magazine of excellencies +and perfections, that appertains to the human body, the mind claims, +and justly claims, an undoubted superiority. I am not going into an +enumeration of the various faculties and endowments of the mind of man, +as I have done of his body. The latter was necessary for my purpose. +Before I proceeded to consider the ascendancy of mind, the dominion and +loftiness it is accustomed to assert, it appeared but just to recollect +what was the nature and value of its subject and its slave. + +By the mind we understand that within us which feels and thinks, the +seat of sensation and reason. Where it resides we cannot tell, nor +can authoritatively pronounce, as the apostle says, relatively to a +particular phenomenon, "whether it is in the body, or out of the body." +Be it however where or what it may, it is this which constitutes the +great essence of, and gives value to, our existence; and all the wonders +of our microcosm would without it be a form only, destined immediately +to perish, and of no greater account than as a clod of the valley. + +It was an important remark, suggested to me many years ago by an eminent +physiologer and anatomist, that, when I find my attention called to any +particular part or member of my body, I may be morally sure that there +is something amiss in the processes of that part or member. As long as +the whole economy of the frame goes on well and without interruption, +our attention is not called to it. The intellectual man is like a +disembodied spirit. + +He is almost in the state of the dervise in the Arabian Nights, who had +the power of darting his soul into the unanimated body of another, human +or brute, while he left his own body in the condition of an insensible +carcase, till it should be revivified by the same or some other spirit. +When I am, as it is vulgarly understood, in a state of motion, I use my +limbs as the implements of my will. When, in a quiescent state of the +body, I continue to think, to reflect and to reason, I use, it may be, +the substance of the brain as the implement of my thinking, reflecting +and reasoning; though of this in fact we know nothing. + +We have every reason to believe that the mind cannot subsist without the +body; at least we must be very different creatures from what we are at +present, when that shall take place. For a man to think, agreeably and +with serenity, he must be in some degree of health. The corpus sanum is +no less indispensible than the mens sana. We must eat, and drink, and +sleep. We must have a reasonably good appetite and digestion, and a +fitting temperature, neither too hot nor cold. It is desirable that we +should have air and exercise. But this is instrumental merely. All these +things are negatives, conditions without which we cannot think to the +best purpose, but which lend no active assistance to our thinking. + +Man is a godlike being. We launch ourselves in conceit into illimitable +space, and take up our rest beyond the fixed stars. We proceed without +impediment from country to country, and from century to century, +through all the ages of the past, and through the vast creation of the +imaginable future. We spurn at the bounds of time and space; nor would +the thought be less futile that imagines to imprison the mind within +the limits of the body, than the attempt of the booby clown who is said +within a thick hedge to have plotted to shut in the flight of an eagle. + +We never find our attention called to any particular part or member of +the body, except when there is somewhat amiss in that part or member. +And, in like manner as we do not think of any one part or member in +particular, so neither do we consider our entire microcosm and frame. +The body is apprehended as no more important and of intimate connection +to a man engaged in a train of reflections, than the house or +apartment in which he dwells. The mind may aptly be described under +the denomination of the "stranger at home." On set occasions and at +appropriate times we examine our stores, and ascertain the various +commodities we have, laid up in our presses and our coffers. Like the +governor of a fort in time of peace, which was erected to keep out a +foreign assailant, we occasionally visit our armoury, and take account +of the muskets, the swords, and other implements of war it contains, but +for the most part are engaged in the occupations of peace, and do not +call the means of warfare in any sort to our recollection. + +The mind may aptly be described under the denomination of the "stranger +at home." With their bodies most men are little acquainted. We are "like +unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass, who beholdeth himself, +and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he is." +In the ruminations of the inner man, and the dissecting our thoughts and +desires, we employ our intellectual arithmetic, we add, and subtract, +and multiply, and divide, without asking the aid, without adverting to +the existence, of our joints and members. Even as to the more corporeal +part of our avocations, we behold the external world, and proceed +straight to the object of our desires, without almost ever thinking +of this medium, our own material frame, unaided by which none of these +things could be accomplished. In this sense we may properly be said +to be spiritual existences, however imperfect may be the idea we are +enabled to affix to the term spirit. + +Hence arises the notion, which has been entertained ever since the birth +of reflection and logical discourse in the world, and which in some +faint and confused degree exists probably even among savages, that the +body is the prison of the mind. It is in this sense that Waller, after +completing fourscore years of age, expresses himself in these affecting +and interesting couplets. + + When we for age could neither read nor write, + The subject made us able to indite. + The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, + Lets in new light by chinks that time hath made: + Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become, + As they draw near to their eternal home. + +Thus it is common with persons of elevated soul to talk of neglecting, +overlooking, and taking small account of the body. It is in this spirit +that the story is recorded of Anaxarchus, who, we are told, was ordered +by Nicocreon, tyrant of Salamis, to be pounded in a mortar, and who, +in contempt of his mortal sufferings, exclaimed, "Beat on, tyrant! thou +dost but strike upon the case of Anaxarchus; thou canst not touch the +man himself." And it is in something of the same light that we must +regard what is related of the North American savages. Beings, who scoff +at their tortures, must have an idea of something that lies beyond the +reach of their assailants. + +It is just however to observe, that some of the particulars here +related, belong not less to the brute creation than to man. If men are +imperfectly acquainted with their external figure and appearance, +this may well be conceived to be still more predicable of the inferior +animals. It is true that all of them seem to be aware of the part in +their structure, where lie their main strength and means of hostility. +Thus the bull attacks with his horns, and the horse with his heels, the +beast of prey with his claws, the bird with his beak, and insects and +other venomous creatures with their sting. We know not by what +impulse they are prompted to the use of the various means which are so +intimately connected with their preservation and welfare; and we call it +instinct. We may be certain it does not arise from a careful survey of +their parts and members, and a methodised selection of the means which +shall be found most effectual for the accomplishment of their ends. +There is no premeditation; and, without anatomical knowledge, or any +distinct acquaintance with their image and likeness, they proceed +straight to their purpose. + +Hence, even as men, they are more familiar with the figures and +appearance of their fellows, their allies, or their enemies, than with +their own. + +Man is a creature of mingled substance. I am many times a day compelled +to acknowledge what a low, mean and contemptible being I am. Philip of +Macedon had no need to give it in charge to a page, to repair to him +every morning, and repeat, "Remember, sir, you are a man." A variety of +circumstances occur to us, while we eat, and drink, and submit to the +humiliating necessities of nature, that may well inculcate into us this +salutary lesson. The wonder rather is, that man, who has so many things +to put him in mind to be humble and despise himself, should ever have +been susceptible of pride and disdain. Nebuchadnezzar must indeed have +been the most besotted of mortals, if it were necessary that he should +be driven from among men, and made to eat grass like an ox, to convince +him that he was not the equal of the power that made him. + +But fortunately, as I have said, man is a "stranger at home." Were it +not for this, how incomprehensible would be + + The ceremony that to great ones 'longs, + The monarch's crown, and the deputed sword, + The marshal's truncheon, and the judge's robe! + +How ludicrous would be the long procession and the caparisoned horse, +the gilded chariot and the flowing train, the colours flying, the drums +beating, and the sound of trumpets rending the air, which after all only +introduce to us an ordinary man, no otherwise perhaps distinguished from +the vilest of the ragged spectators, than by the accident of his birth! + +But what is of more importance in the temporary oblivion we are enabled +to throw over the refuse of the body, it is thus we arrive at the +majesty of man. That sublimity of conception which renders the poet, and +the man of great literary and original endowments "in apprehension like +a God," we could not have, if we were not privileged occasionally +to cast away the slough and exuviae of the body from incumbering and +dishonouring us, even as Ulysses passed over his threshold, stripped of +the rags that had obscured him, while Minerva enlarged his frame, and +gave loftiness to his stature, added a youthful beauty and grace to his +motions, and caused his eyes to flash with more than mortal fire. With +what disdain, when I have been rapt in the loftiest moods of mind, do I +look down upon my limbs, the house of clay that contains me, the gross +flesh and blood of which my frame is composed, and wonder at a lodging, +poorly fitted to entertain so divine a guest! + +A still more important chapter in the history of the human mind has its +origin in these considerations. Hence it is that unenlightened man, in +almost all ages and countries, has been induced, independently of +divine revelation, to regard death, the most awful event to which we are +subject, as not being the termination of his existence. We see the +body of our friend become insensible, and remain without motion, or +any external indication of what we call life. We can shut it up in an +apartment, and visit it from day to day. If we had perseverance enough, +and could so far conquer the repugnance and humiliating feeling with +which the experiment would be attended, we might follow step by step the +process of decomposition and putrefaction, and observe by what degrees +the "dust returned unto earth as it was." But, in spite of this +demonstration of the senses, man still believes that there is something +in him that lives after death. The mind is so infinitely superior +in character to this case of flesh that incloses it, that he cannot +persuade himself that it and the body perish together. + +There are two considerations, the force of which made man a religious +animal. The first is, his proneness to ascribe hostility or benevolent +intention to every thing of a memorable sort that occurs to him in the +order of nature. The second is that of which I have just treated, the +superior dignity of mind over body. This, we persuade ourselves, +shall subsist uninjured by the mutations of our corporeal frame, and +undestroyed by the wreck of the material universe. + + + + +ESSAY II. OF THE DISTRIBUTION OF TALENTS. + +{Greek--omitted} Thucydides, Lib.I, cap. 84. + +SECTION I. + +PRESUMED DEARTH OF INTELLECTUAL POWER.--SCHOOLS FOR THE EDUCATION OF +YOUTH CONSIDERED.--THE BOY AND THE MAN COMPARED. + +One of the earliest judgments that is usually made by those whose +attention is turned to the characters of men in the social state, is +of the great inequality with which the gifts of the understanding are +distributed among us. + +Go into a miscellaneous society; sit down at table with ten or twelve +men; repair to a club where as many are assembled in an evening to relax +from the toils of the day--it is almost proverbial, that one or two of +these persons will perhaps be brilliant, and the rest "weary, stale, +flat and unprofitable." + +Go into a numerous school--the case will be still more striking. I have +been present where two men of superior endowments endeavoured to enter +into a calculation on the subject; and they agreed that there was not +above one boy in a hundred, who would be found to possess a penetrating +understanding, and to be able to strike into a path of intellect that +was truly his own. How common is it to hear the master of such a school +say, "Aye, I am proud of that lad; I have been a schoolmaster these +thirty years, and have never had such another!" + +The society above referred to, the dinner-party, or the club, was to +a considerable degree select, brought together by a certain supposed +congeniality between the individuals thus assembled. Were they +taken indiscriminately, as boys are when consigned to the care of +a schoolmaster, the proportion of the brilliant would not be a whit +greater than in the latter case. + +A main criterion of the superiority of the schoolboy will be found in +his mode of answering a casual question proposed by the master. The +majority will be wholly at fault, will shew that they do not understand +the question, and will return an answer altogether from the purpose. One +in a hundred perhaps, perhaps in a still less proportion, will reply +in a laudable manner, and convey his ideas in perspicuous and spirited +language. + +It does not certainly go altogether so ill, with men grown up to years +of maturity. They do not for the most part answer a plain question in a +manner to make you wonder at their fatuity. + +A main cause of the disadvantageous appearance exhibited by the ordinary +schoolboy, lies in what we denominate sheepishness. He is at a loss, and +in the first place stares at you, instead of giving an answer. He does +not make by many degrees so poor a figure among his equals, as when he +is addressed by his seniors. + +One of the reasons of the latter phenomenon consists in the torpedo +effect of what we may call, under the circumstances, the difference of +ranks. The schoolmaster is a despot to his scholar; for every man is +a despot, who delivers his judgment from the single impulse of his own +will. The boy answers his questioner, as Dolon answers Ulysses in the +Iliad, at the point of the sword. It is to a certain degree the same +thing, when the boy is questioned merely by his senior. He fears he +knows not what,--a reprimand, a look of lofty contempt, a gesture +of summary disdain. He does not think it worth his while under these +circumstances, to "gird up the loins of his mind." He cannot return a +free and intrepid answer but to the person whom he regards as his equal. +There is nothing that has so disqualifying an effect upon him who is +to answer, as the consideration that he who questions is universally +acknowledged to be a being of a higher sphere, or, as between the +boy and the man, that he is the superior in conventional and corporal +strength. + +Nor is it simple terror that restrains the boy from answering his senior +with the same freedom and spirit, as he would answer his equal. He does +not think it worth his while to enter the lists. He despairs of doing +the thing in the way that shall gain approbation, and therefore will not +try. He is like a boxer, who, though skilful, will not fight with one +hand tied behind him. He would return you the answer, if it occurred +without his giving himself trouble; but he will not rouse his soul, and +task his strength to give it. He is careless; and prefers trusting to +whatever construction you may put upon him, and whatever treatment you +may think proper to bestow upon him. It is the most difficult thing in +the world, for the schoolmaster to inspire into his pupil the desire to +do his best. + +Among full-grown men the case is different. The schoolboy, whether under +his domestic roof, or in the gymnasium, is in a situation similar to +that of the Christian slaves in Algiers, as described by Cervantes in +his History of the Captive. "They were shut up together in a species of +bagnio, from whence they were brought out from time to time to perform +certain tasks in common: they might also engage in pranks, and get into +scrapes, as they pleased; but the master would hang up one, impale +another, and cut off the ears of a third, for little occasion, or even +wholly without it." Such indeed is the condition of the child almost +from the hour of birth. The severities practised upon him are not so +great as those resorted to by the proprietor of slaves in Algiers; but +they are equally arbitrary and without appeal. He is free to a certain +extent, even as the captives described by Cervantes; but his freedom is +upon sufferance, and is brought to an end at any time at the pleasure of +his seniors. The child therefore feels his way, and ascertains by +repeated experiments how far he may proceed with impunity. He is like +the slaves of the Romans on the days of the Saturnalia. He may do +what he pleases, and command tasks to his masters, but with this +difference--the Roman slave knew when the days of his licence would be +over, and comported himself accordingly; but the child cannot foresee at +any moment when the bell will be struck, and the scene reversed. It is +commonly enough incident to this situation, that the being who is at the +mercy of another, will practise, what Tacitus calls, a "vernacular +urbanity," make his bold jests, and give utterance to his saucy +innuendoes, with as much freedom as the best; but he will do it with a +wary eye, not knowing how soon he may feel his chain plucked! and +himself compulsorily reduced into the established order. His more usual +refuge therefore is, to do nothing, and to wrap himself up in that +neutrality towards his seniors, that may best protect him from their +reprimand and their despotism. + +The condition of the full-grown man is different from that of the child, +and he conducts himself accordingly. He is always to a certain degree +under the control of the political society of which he is a member. He +is also exposed to the chance of personal insult and injury from +those who are stronger than he, or who may render their strength more +considerable by combination and numbers. The political institutions +which control him in certain respects, protect him also to a given +degree from the robber and assassin, or from the man who, were it +not for penalties and statutes, would perpetrate against him all the +mischiefs which malignity might suggest. Civil policy however subjects +him to a variety of evils, which wealth or corruption are accustomed to +inflict under the forms of justice; at the same time that it can never +wholly defend him from those violences to which he would be every moment +exposed in what is called the state of nature. + +The full-grown man in the mean time is well pleased when he escapes +from the ergastulum where he had previously dwelt, and in which he had +experienced corporal infliction and corporal restraint. At first, in the +newness of his freedom, he breaks out into idle sallies and escapes, and +is like the full-fed steed that manifests his wantonness in a thousand +antics and ruades. But this is a temporary extravagance. He presently +becomes as wise and calculating, as the schoolboy was before him. + +The human being then, that has attained a certain stature, watches and +poises his situation, and considers what he may do with impunity. He +ventures at first with no small diffidence, and pretends to be twice +as assured as he really is. He accumulates experiment after experiment, +till they amount to a considerable volume. It is not till he has passed +successive lustres, that he attains that firm step, and temperate and +settled accent, which characterise the man complete. He then no longer +doubts, but is ranged on the full level of the ripened members of the +community. + +There is therefore little room for wonder, if we find the same +individual, whom we once knew a sheepish and irresolute schoolboy, that +hung his head, that replied with inarticulated monotony, and stammered +out his meaning, metamorphosed into a thoroughly manly character, who +may take his place on the bench with senators, and deliver a grave and +matured opinion as well as the best. It appears then that the trial and +review of full-grown men is not altogether so disadvantageous to the +reckoning of our common nature, as that of boys at school. + +It is not however, that the full-grown man is not liable to be checked, +reprimanded and rebuked, even as the schoolboy is. He has his wife +to read him lectures, and rap his knuckles; he has his master, his +landlord, or the mayor of his village, to tell him of his duty in an +imperious style, and in measured sentences; if he is a member of a +legislature, even there he receives his lessons, and is told, either +in phrases of well-conceived irony, or by the exhibition of facts and +reasonings which take him by surprise, that he is not altogether the +person he deemed himself to be. But he does not mind it. Like Iago in +the play, he "knows his price, and, by the faith of man, that he is +worth no worse a place" than that which he occupies. He finds out the +value of the check he receives, and lets it "pass by him like the idle +wind"--a mastery, which the schoolboy, however he may affect it, never +thoroughly attains to. + +But it unfortunately happens, that, before he has arrived at that degree +of independence, the fate of the individual is too often decided for +ever. How are the majority of men trampled in the mire, made "hewers +of wood, and drawers of water," long, very long, before there was an +opportunity of ascertaining what it was of which they were capable! Thus +almost every one is put in the place which by nature he was least fit +for: and, while perhaps a sufficient quantity of talent is extant in +each successive generation, yet, for want of each man's being duly +estimated, and assigned his appropriate duty, the very reverse may +appear to be the case. By the time that they have attained to that sober +self-confidence that might enable them to assert themselves, they are +already chained to a fate, or thrust down to a condition, from which no +internal energies they possess can ever empower them to escape. + + +SECTION II. + +EQUALITY OF MAN WITH MAN.--TALENTS EXTENSIVELY DISTRIBUTED.--WAY IN +WHICH THIS DISTRIBUTION IS COUNTERACTED.--THE APTITUDE OF CHILDREN +FOR DIFFERENT PURSUITS SHOULD BE EARLY SOUGHT OUT.--HINTS FOR A BETTER +SYSTEM OF EDUCATION.--AMBITION AN UNIVERSAL PRINCIPLE. + +The reflections thus put down, may assist us in answering the question +as to the way in which talents are distributed among men by the hand of +nature. + +All things upon the earth and under the earth, and especially all +organised bodies of the animal or vegetable kingdom, fall into classes. +It is by this means, that the child no sooner learns the terms, man, +horse, tree, flower, than, if an object of any of these kinds which +he has never seen before, is exhibited to him, he pronounces without +hesitation, This is a man, a horse, a tree, a flower. + +All organised bodies of the animal or vegetable kingdom are cast in a +mould of given dimension and feature belonging to a certain number of +individuals, though distinguished by inexhaustible varieties. It is by +means of those features that the class of each individual is determined. + +To confine ourselves to man. + +All men, the monster and the lusus naturae excepted, have a certain +form, a certain complement of limbs, a certain internal structure, and +organs of sense--may we not add further, certain powers of intellect? + +Hence it seems to follow, that man is more like and more equal to +man, deformities of body and abortions of intellect excepted, than the +disdainful and fastidious censors of our common nature are willing to +admit. + +I am inclined to believe, that, putting idiots and extraordinary cases +out of the question, every human creature is endowed with talents, +which, if rightly directed, would shew him to be apt, adroit, +intelligent and acute, in the walk for which his organisation especially +fitted him. + +But the practices and modes of civilised life prompt us to take the +inexhaustible varieties of man, as he is given into our guardianship by +the bountiful hand of nature, and train him in one uniform exercise, as +the raw recruit is treated when he is brought under the direction of his +drill-serjeant. + +The son of the nobleman, of the country-gentleman, and of those parents +who from vanity or whatever other motive are desirous that their +offspring should be devoted to some liberal profession, is in nearly all +instances sent to the grammar-school. It is in this scene principally, +that the judgment is formed that not above one boy in a hundred +possesses an acute understanding, or will be able to strike into a path +of intellect that shall be truly his own. + +I do not object to this destination, if temperately pursued. It is fit +that as many children as possible should have their chance of figuring +in future life in what are called the higher departments of intellect. +A certain familiar acquaintance with language and the shades of language +as a lesson, will be beneficial to all. The youth who has expended only +six months in acquiring the rudiments of the Latin tongue, will probably +be more or less the better for it in all his future life. + +But seven years are usually spent at the grammar-school by those who are +sent to it. I do not in many cases object to this. The learned languages +are assuredly of slow acquisition. In the education of those who are +destined to what are called the higher departments of intellect, a long +period may advantageously be spent in the study of words, while the +progress they make in theory and dogmatical knowledge is too generally +a store of learning laid up, to be unlearned again when they reach the +period of real investigation and independent judgment. There is small +danger of this in the acquisition of words. + +But this method, indiscriminately pursued as it is now, is productive +of the worst consequences. Very soon a judgment may be formed by the +impartial observer, whether the pupil is at home in the study of the +learned languages, and is likely to make an adequate progress. +But parents are not impartial. There are also two reasons why the +schoolmaster is not the proper person to pronounce: first, because, +if he pronounces in the negative, he will have reason to fear that the +parent will be offended; and secondly, because he does not like to lose +his scholar. But the very moment that it can be ascertained, that the +pupil is not at home in the study of the learned languages, and is +unlikely to make an adequate progress, at that moment he should be taken +from it. + +The most palpable deficiency that is to be found in relation to the +education of children, is a sound judgment to be formed as to the +vocation or employment in which each is most fitted to excel. + +As, according to the institutions of Lycurgus, as soon as a boy was +born, he was visited by the elders of the ward, who were to decide +whether he was to be reared, and would be made an efficient member of +the commonwealth, so it were to be desired that, as early as a clear +discrimination on the subject might be practicable, a competent decision +should be given as to the future occupation and destiny of a child. + +But this is a question attended with no common degree of difficulty. +To the resolving such a question with sufficient evidence, a very +considerable series of observations would become necessary. The child +should be introduced into a variety of scenes, and a magazine, so to +speak, of those things about which human industry and skill may be +employed, should be successively set before him. The censor who is to +decide on the result of the whole, should be a person of great sagacity, +and capable of pronouncing upon a given amount of the most imperfect +and incidental indications. He should be clear-sighted, and vigilant +to observe the involuntary turns of an eye, expressions of a lip, and +demonstrations of a limb. + +The declarations of the child himself are often of very small use in the +case. He may be directed by an impulse, which occurs in the morning, and +vanishes in the evening. His preferences change as rapidly as the shapes +we sometimes observe in the evening clouds, and are governed by whim +or fantasy, and not by any of those indications which are parcel of his +individual constitution. He desires in many instances to be devoted to +a particular occupation, because his playfellow has been assigned to it +before him. + +The parent is not qualified to judge in this fundamental question, +because he is under the dominion of partiality, and wishes that his +child may become a lord chancellor, an archbishop, or any thing else, +the possessor of which condition shall be enabled to make a splendid +figure in the world. He is not qualified, because he is an interested +party, and, either from an exaggerated estimate of his child's merits, +or from a selfish shrinking from the cost it might require to mature +them, is anxious to arrive at a conclusion not founded upon the +intrinsic claims of the case to be considered. + +Even supposing it to be sufficiently ascertained in what calling it is +that the child will be most beneficially engaged, a thousand extrinsical +circumstances will often prevent that from being the calling chosen. +Nature distributes her gifts without any reference to the distinctions +of artificial society. The genius that demanded the most careful and +assiduous cultivation, that it might hereafter form the boast and +ornament of the world, will be reared amidst the chill blasts of +poverty; while he who was best adapted to make an exemplary carpenter +or artisan, by being the son of a nobleman is thrown a thousand fathoms +wide of his true destination. + +Human creatures are born into the world with various dispositions. +According to the memorable saying of Themistocles, One man can play upon +a psaltery or harp, and another can by political skill and ingenuity +convert a town of small account, weak and insignificant, into a city +noble, magnificent and great. + +It is comparatively a very little way that we can penetrate into the +mysteries of nature. + +Music seems to be one of the faculties most clearly defined in early +youth. The child who has received that destination from the hands of +nature, will even in infancy manifest a singular delight in musical +sounds, and will in no long time imitate snatches of a tune. The present +professor of music in the university of Oxford contrived for himself, +I believe at three years old, a way for playing on an instrument, the +piano forte, unprompted by any of the persons about him. This is called +having an ear. + +Instances nearly as precocious are related of persons, who afterwards +distinguished themselves in the art of painting. + +These two kinds of original destination appear to be placed beyond the +reach of controversy. + +Horace says, The poet is born a poet, and cannot be made so by the +ingenuity of art: and this seems to be true. He sees the objects about +him with an eye peculiarly his own; the sounds that reach his ear, +produce an effect upon him, and leave a memory behind, different +from that which is experienced by his fellows. His perceptions have a +singular vividness. + + The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, + Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; + + And his imagination bodies forth + The forms of things unknown, + +It is not probable that any trainings of art can give these endowments +to him who has not received them from the gift of nature. + +The subtle network of the brain, or whatever else it is, that makes a +man more fit for, and more qualified to succeed in, one occupation than +another, can scarcely be followed up and detected either in the living +subject or the dead one. But, as in the infinite variety of human beings +no two faces are so alike that they cannot be distinguished, nor even +two leaves plucked from the same tree(2), so it may reasonably be +presumed, that there are varieties in the senses, the organs, and the +internal structure of the human species, however delicate, and to the +touch of the bystander evanescent, which may give to each individual a +predisposition to rise to a supreme degree of excellence in some certain +art or attainment, over a million of competitors. + + + (2) Papers between Clarke and Leibnitz, p. 95. + + +It has been said that all these distinctions and anticipations are +idle, because man is born without innate ideas. Whatever is the +incomprehensible and inexplicable power, which we call nature, to which +he is indebted for his formation, it is groundless to suppose, that +that power is cognisant of, and guides itself in its operations by, the +infinite divisibleness of human pursuits in civilised society. A child +is not designed by his original formation to be a manufacturer of shoes, +for he may be born among a people by whom shoes are not worn, and +still less is he destined by his structure to be a metaphysician, an +astronomer, or a lawyer, a rope-dancer, a fortune-teller, or a juggler. + +It is true that we cannot suppose nature to be guided in her operations +by the infinite divisibleness of human pursuits in civilised society. +But it is not the less true that one man is by his structure best fitted +to excel in some one in particular of these multifarious pursuits, +however fortuitously his individual structure and that pursuit may be +brought into contact. Thus a certain calmness and steadiness of purpose, +much flexibility, and a very accurate proportion of the various limbs of +the body, are of great advantage in rope-dancing; while lightness of the +fingers, and a readiness to direct our thoughts to the rapid execution +of a purpose, joined with a steadiness of countenance adapted to what is +figuratively called throwing dust in the eyes of the bystander, are of +the utmost importance to the juggler: and so of the rest. + +It is as much the temper of the individual, as any particular subtlety +of organ or capacity, that prepares him to excel in one pursuit rather +than a thousand others. And he must have been a very inattentive +observer of the indications of temper in an infant in the first +months of his existence, who does not confess that there are various +peculiarities in that respect which the child brings into the world with +him. + +There is excellent sense in the fable of Achilles in the island of +Scyros. He was placed there by his mother in female attire among the +daughters of Lycomedes, that he might not be seduced to engage in the +Trojan war. Ulysses was commissioned to discover him, and, while he +exhibited jewels and various woman's ornaments to the princesses, +contrived to mix with his stores a suit of armour, the sight of which +immediately awakened the spirit of the hero. + +Every one has probably within him a string more susceptible than the +rest, that demands only a kindred impression to be made, to call forth +its latent character. Like the war-horse described in the Book of Job: +"He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength; he goeth on to +meet the armed men; he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the +captains, and the shouting." + +Nothing can be more unlike than the same man to himself, when he is +touched, and not touched, upon + + the master-string + That makes most harmony or discord to him. + +It is like the case of Manlius Torquatus in Livy, who by his father was +banished among his hinds for his clownish demeanour and untractableness +to every species of instruction that was offered him, but who, +understanding that his parent was criminally arraigned for barbarous +treatment of him, first resolutely resorted to the accuser, compelling +him upon pain of death to withdraw his accusation, and subsequently, +having surmounted this first step towards an energetic carriage and +demeanour, proved one of the most illustrious characters that the Roman +republic had to boast. + +Those children whose parents have no intention of training them to +the highest departments of intellect, and have therefore no thought of +bestowing on them a classical education, nevertheless for the most part +send them to a school where they are to be taught arithmetic, and the +principles of English grammar. I should say in this case, as I said +before on the subject of classical education, that a certain initiation +in these departments of knowledge, even if they are pursued a very +little way, will probably be beneficial to all. + +But it will often be found, in these schools for more ordinary +education, as in the school for classical instruction, that the majority +of the pupils will be seen to be unpromising, and, what is usually +called, dull. The mistake is, that the persons by whom this is +perceived, are disposed to set aside these pupils as blockheads, and +unsusceptible of any species of ingenuity. + +It is unreasonable that we should draw such a conclusion. + +In the first place, as has been already observed, it is the most +difficult thing in the world for the schoolmaster to inspire into his +pupil the desire to do his best. An overwhelming majority of lads at +school are in their secret hearts rebels to the discipline under which +they are placed. The instructor draws, one way, and the pupil another. +The object of the latter is to find out how he may escape censure and +punishment with the smallest expence of scholastic application. He +looks at the task that is set him, without the most distant desire of +improvement, but with alienated and averted eye. And, where this is the +case, the wonder is not that he does not make a brilliant figure. It is +rather an evidence of the slavish and subservient spirit incident to +the majority of human beings, that he learns any thing. Certainly +the schoolmaster, who judges of the powers of his pupil's mind by the +progress he makes in what he would most gladly be excused from learning, +must be expected perpetually to fall into the most egregious mistakes. + +The true test of the capacity of the individual, is where the desire to +succeed, and accomplish something effective, is already awakened in the +youthful mind. Whoever has found out what it is in which he is qualified +to excel, from that moment becomes a new creature. The general torpor +and sleep of the soul, which is incident to the vast multitude of the +human species, is departed from him. We begin, from the hour in which +our limbs are enabled to exert themselves freely, with a puerile love of +sport. Amusement is the order of the day. But no one was ever so fond +of play, that he had not also his serious moments. Every human creature +perhaps is sensible to the stimulus of ambition. He is delighted +with the thought that he also shall be somebody, and not a mere +undistinguished pawn, destined to fill up a square in the chess-board +of human society. He wishes to be thought something of, and to be gazed +upon. Nor is it merely the wish to be admired that excites him: he acts, +that he may be satisfied with himself. Self-respect is a sentiment dear +to every heart. The emotion can with difficulty be done justice to, that +a man feels, who is conscious that he is breathing his true element, +that every stroke that he strikes will have the effect he designs, that +he has an object before him, and every moment approaches nearer to +that object. Before, he was wrapped in an opake cloud, saw nothing +distinctly, and struck this way and that at hazard like a blind man. But +now the sun of understanding has risen upon him; and every step that he +takes, he advances with an assured and undoubting confidence. + +It is an admirable remark, that the book which we read at the very time +that we feel a desire to read it, affords us ten times the improvement, +that we should have derived from it when it was taken up by us as a +task. It is just so with the man who chooses his occupation, and feels +assured that that about which he is occupied is his true and native +field. Compare this person with the boy that studies the classics, or +arithmetic, or any thing else, with a secret disinclination, and, as +Shakespear expresses it, "creeps like snail, unwillingly, to school." +They do not seem as if they belonged to the same species. + +The result of these observations certainly strongly tends to support the +proposition laid down early in the present Essay, that, putting idiots +and extraordinary cases out of the question, every human creature is +endowed with talents, which, if rightly directed, would shew him to +be apt, adroit, intelligent and acute, in the walk for which his +organisation especially fitted him. + + +SECTION III. + +ENCOURAGING VIEW OF OUR COMMON NATURE.--POWER OF SOUND EXPOSITION +AFFORDED TO ALL.--DOCTRINE OF THIS ESSAY AND THE HYPOTHESIS OF HELVETIUS +COMPARED.--THE WILLING AND UNWILLING PUPIL CONTRASTED.--MISCHIEVOUS +TENDENCY OF THE USUAL MODES OF EDUCATION. + +What a beautiful and encouraging view is thus afforded us of our common +nature! It is not true, as certain disdainful and fastidious censurers +of their fellow-men would persuade us to believe, that a thousand seeds +are sown in the wide field of humanity, for no other purpose than that +half-a-dozen may grow up into something magnificent and splendid, and +that the rest, though not absolutely extinguished in the outset, are +merely suffered to live that they may furnish manure and nourishment to +their betters. On the contrary, each man, according to this hypothesis, +has a sphere in which he may shine, and may contemplate the exercise of +his own powers with a well-grounded satisfaction. He produces something +as perfect in its kind, as that which is effected under another form +by the more brilliant and illustrious of his species. He stands forward +with a serene confidence in the ranks of his fellow-creatures, and says, +"I also have my place in society, that I fill in a manner with which I +have a right to be satisfied." He vests a certain portion of ingenuity +in the work he turns out. He incorporates his mind with the labour +of his hands; and a competent observer will find character and +individuality in it. + +He has therefore nothing of the sheepishness of the ordinary schoolboy, +the tasks imposed upon whom by his instructor are foreign to the true +bent of his mind, and who stands cowed before his seniors, shrinking +under the judgment they may pass upon him, and the oppression they may +exercise towards him. He is probably competent to talk in a manner that +may afford instruction to men in other respects wise and accomplished, +and is no less clear and well-digested in his discourse respecting the +subjects to which his study and labour have been applied, than they are +on the questions that have exercised the powers of analysis with which +they are endowed. Like Elihu in the Book of Job, he says, "I am young, +and you are old; I said therefore, Days shall speak, and multitude +of years shall teach wisdom. But there is a spirit in man; and the +inspiration of the Almighty giveth him understanding. Great men are not +always wise; neither do the aged understand judgment. Hearken therefore +to me; and I also will shew my opinion." + +What however in the last instance is affirmed, is not always realised +in the experiment. The humblest mechanic, who works con amore, and feels +that he discharges his office creditably, has a sober satisfaction in +the retrospect, and is able to express himself perspicuously and well on +the subject that has occupied his industry. He has a just confidence in +himself. If the occasion arises, on which he should speak on the subject +of what he does, and the methods he adopts for effecting it, he will +undoubtedly acquit himself to the satisfaction of those who hear him. He +knows that the explanations he can afford will be sound and masculine, +and will stand the test of a rigid examination. + +But, in proportion as he feels the ground on which he stands, and his +own power to make it good, he will not fail to retire from an audience +that is not willing to be informed by him. He will often appear in the +presence of those, whom the established arrangements of society call +his superiors, who are more copiously endowed with the treasures of +language, and who, confident perhaps in the advantage of opulence, and +what is called, however they may have received it, a liberal education, +regard with disdain his artless and unornamented explanations. He did +not, it may be, expect this. And, having experienced several times such +unmerited treatment, he is not willing again to encounter it. He knew +the worth of what he had to offer. And, finding others indisposed to +listen to his suggestions, he contentedly confines them within the +circle of his own thoughts. + +To this it must be added that, though he is able to explain himself +perspicuously, yet he is not master of the graces of speech, nor even +perhaps of the niceties of grammar. His voice is not tuned to those +winning inflections by which men, accustomed to the higher ranks of +society, are enabled so to express themselves, + + That aged ears play truant at their tales, + And younger hearings are quite ravished, + So sweet and voluble is their discourse. + +On the contrary there is a ruggedness in his manner that jars upon +the sense. It is easy for the light and supercilious to turn him into +ridicule. And those who will not be satisfied with the soundness of his +matter, expounded, as he is able to expound it, in clear and appropriate +terms, will yield him small credit, and listen to him with little +delight. + +These considerations therefore bring us back again to the reasons of +the prevalent opinion, that the majority of mankind are dull, and of +apprehension narrow and confused. The mass of boys in the process of +their education appear so, because little of what is addressed to them +by their instructors, awakens their curiosity, and inspires them with +the desire to excel. The concealed spark of ambition is not yet cleared +from the crust that enveloped it as it first came from the hand of +nature. And in like manner the elder persons, who have not experienced +the advantages of a liberal education, or by whom small profit was made +by those advantages, being defective in exterior graces, are generally +listened to with impatience, and therefore want the confidence and the +inclination to tell what they know. + +But these latter, if they are not attended to upon the subjects to which +their attention and ingenuity have been applied, do not the less possess +a knowledge and skill which are intrinsically worthy of applause. They +therefore contentedly shut up the sum of their acquisitions in their own +bosoms, and are satisfied with the consciousness that they have not been +deficient in performing an adequate part in the generation of men among +whom they live. + +Those persons who favour the opinion of the incessant improveableness of +the human species, have felt strongly prompted to embrace the creed of +Helvetius, who affirms that the minds of men, as they are born into +the world, are in a state of equality, alike prepared for any kind +of discipline and instruction that may be afforded them, and that +it depends upon education only, in the largest sense of that word, +including every impression that may be made upon the mind, intentional +or accidental, from the hour of our birth, whether we shall be poets +or philosophers, dancers or singers, chemists or mathematicians, +astronomers or dissectors of the faculties of our common nature. + +But this is not true. It has already appeared in the course of this +Essay, that the talent, or, more accurately speaking, the original +suitableness of the individual for the cultivation, of music or +painting, depends upon certain peculiarities that we bring into the +world with us. The same thing may be affirmed of the poet. As, in the +infinite variety of human beings, there are no two faces so alike that +they cannot be distinguished, nor even two leaves plucked from the same +tree, so there are varieties in the senses, the organs, and the internal +structure of the human species, however delicate, and to the touch of +the bystander evanescent, which give to each individual a predisposition +to rise to excellence in one particular art or attainment, rather than +in any other. + +And this view of things, if well considered, is as favourable, nay, more +so, to the hypothesis of the successive improveableness of the human +species, as the creed of Helvetius. According to that philosopher, every +human creature that is born into the world, is capable of becoming, +or being made, the equal of Homer, Bacon or Newton, and as easily and +surely of the one as the other. This creed, if sincerely embraced, no +doubt affords a strong stimulus to both preceptor and pupil, since, if +true, it teaches us that any thing can be made of any thing, and that, +wherever there is mind, it is within the compass of possibility, not +only that that mind can be raised to a high pitch of excellence, but +even to a high pitch of that excellence, whatever it is, that we shall +prefer to all others, and most earnestly desire. + +Still this creed will, after all, leave both preceptor and pupil in a +state of feeling considerably unsatisfactory. What it sets before us, +is too vast and indefinite. We shall be left long perhaps in a state of +balance as to what species of excellence we shall choose; and, in +the immense field of accessible improvement it offers to us, without +land-mark or compass for the direction of our course, it is scarcely +possible that we should feel that assured confidence and anticipation of +success, which are perhaps indispensibly required to the completion of a +truly arduous undertaking. + +But, upon the principles laid down in this Essay, the case is widely +different. We are here presented in every individual human creature with +a subject better fitted for one sort of cultivation than another. We +are excited to an earnest study of the individual, that we may the +more unerringly discover what pursuit it is for which his nature and +qualifications especially prepare him. We may be long in choosing. +We may be even on the brink of committing a considerable mistake. Our +subsequent observations may enable us to correct the inference we were +disposed to make from those which went before. Our sagacity is flattered +by the result of the laborious scrutiny which this view of our common +nature imposes upon us. + +In addition to this we reap two important advantages. + +In the first place, we feel assured that every child that is born has +his suitable sphere, to which if he is devoted, he will not fail to make +an honourable figure, or, in other words, will be seen to be endowed +with faculties, apt, adroit, intelligent and acute. This consideration +may reasonably stimulate us to call up all our penetration for the +purpose of ascertaining the proper destination of the child for whom we +are interested. + +And, secondly, having arrived at this point, we shall find ourselves +placed in a very different predicament from the guardian or instructor, +who, having selected at random the pursuit which his fancy dictates, and +in the choice of which he is encouraged by the presumptuous assertions +of a wild metaphysical philosophy, must often, in spite of himself, feel +a secret misgiving as to the final event. He may succeed, and present to +a wondering world a consummate musician, painter, poet, or philosopher; +for even blind chance may sometimes hit the mark, as truly as the most +perfect skill. But he will probably fail. Sudet multum, frustraque +laboret. And, if he is disappointed, he will not only feel that +disappointment in the ultimate result, but also in every step of his +progress. When he has done his best, exerted his utmost industry, and +consecrated every power of his soul to the energies he puts forth, +he may close every day, sometimes with a faint shadow of success, and +sometimes with entire and blank miscarriage. And the latter will happen +ten thousand times, for once that the undertaking shall be blessed with +a prosperous event. + +But, when the destination that is given to a child has been founded +upon a careful investigation of the faculties, tokens, and accidental +aspirations which characterise his early years, it is then that +every step that is made with him, becomes a new and surer source of +satisfaction. The moment the pursuit for which his powers are adapted is +seriously proposed to him, his eyes sparkle, and a second existence, in +addition to that which he received at his birth, descends upon him. He +feels that he has now obtained something worth living for. He feels +that he is at home, and in a sphere that is appropriately his own. Every +effort that he makes is successful. At every resting-place in his +race of improvement he pauses, and looks back on what he has done with +complacency. The master cannot teach him so fast, as he is prompted to +acquire. + +What a contrast does this species of instruction exhibit, to the +ordinary course of scholastic education! There, every lesson that is +prescribed, is a source of indirect warfare between the instructor and +the pupil, the one professing to aim at the advancement of him that +is taught, in the career of knowledge, and the other contemplating +the effect that is intended to be produced upon him with aversion, and +longing to be engaged in any thing else, rather than in that which is +pressed upon his foremost attention. In this sense a numerous school +is, to a degree that can scarcely be adequately described, the +slaughter-house of mind. It is like the undertaking, related by Livy, +of Accius Navius, the augur, to cut a whetstone with a razor--with this +difference, that our modern schoolmasters are not endowed with the gift +of working miracles, and, when the experiment falls into their hands, +the result of their efforts is a pitiful miscarriage. Knowledge is +scarcely in any degree imparted. But, as they are inured to a dogged +assiduity, and persist in their unavailing attempts, though the shell +of science, so to speak, is scarcely in the smallest measure penetrated, +yet that inestimable gift of the author of our being, the sharpness of +human faculties, is so blunted and destroyed, that it can scarcely ever +be usefully employed even for those purposes which it was originally +best qualified to effect. + +A numerous school is that mint from which the worst and most flagrant +libels on our nature are incessantly issued. Hence it is that we are +taught, by a judgment everlastingly repeated, that the majority of our +kind are predestinated blockheads. + +Not that it is by any means to be recommended, that a little writing and +arithmetic, and even the first rudiments of classical knowledge, so far +as they can be practicably imparted, should be withheld from any. The +mischief is, that we persist, month after month, and year after year, +in sowing our seed, when it has already been fully ascertained, that no +suitable and wholsome crop will ever be produced. + +But what is perhaps worse is, that we are accustomed to pronounce, that +that soil, which will not produce the crop of which we have attempted to +make it fertile, is fit for nothing. The majority of boys, at the very +period when the buds of intellect begin to unfold themselves, are so +accustomed to be told that they are dull and fit for nothing, that +the most pernicious effects are necessarily produced. They become half +convinced by the ill-boding song of the raven, perpetually croaking in +their ears; and, for the other half, though by no means assured that +the sentence of impotence awarded against them is just, yet, folding +up their powers in inactivity, they are contented partly to waste their +energies in pure idleness and sport, and partly to wait, with minds +scarcely half awake, for the moment when their true destination shall be +opened before them. + +Not that it is by any means to be desired that the child in his earlier +years should meet with no ruggednesses in his way, and that he should +perpetually tread "the primrose path of dalliance." Clouds and tempests +occasionally clear the atmosphere of intellect, not less than that +of the visible world. The road to the hill of science, and to the +promontory of heroic virtue, is harsh and steep, and from time to time +puts to the proof the energies of him who would ascend their topmost +round. + +There are many things which every human creature should learn, so far +as, agreeably to the constitution of civilised society, they can be +brought within his reach. He should be induced to learn them, willingly +if possible, but, if that cannot be thoroughly effected, yet with half a +will. Such are reading, writing, arithmetic, and the first principles of +grammar; to which shall be added, as far as may be, the rudiments of all +the sciences that are in ordinary use. The latter however should not be +brought forward too soon; and, if wisely delayed, the tyro himself +will to a certain degree enter into the views of his instructor, and be +disposed to essay Quid valeant humeri, quid ferre recusent. But, above +all, the beginnings of those studies should be encouraged, which +unfold the imagination, familiarise us with the feelings, the joys and +sufferings of our fellow-beings, and teach us to put ourselves in their +place and eagerly fly to their assistance. + + +SECTION IV. + +HOW FAR OUR GENUINE PROPENSITIES AND VOCATION SHOULD BE +FAVOURED.--SELF-REVERENCE RECOMMENDED.--CONCLUSION. + +I knew a man of eminent intellectual faculties(3), one of whose +favourite topics of moral prudence was, that it is the greatest mistake +in the world to suppose, that, when we have discovered the special +aspiration of the youthful mind, we are bound to do every thing in our +power to assist its progress. He maintained on the contrary, that it is +our true wisdom to place obstacles in its way, and to thwart it: as we +may be well assured that, unless it is a mere caprice, it will shew its +strength in conquering difficulties, and that all the obstacles that +we can conjure up will but inspire it with the greater earnestness to +attain final success. + + + (3) Henry Fuseli. + + +The maxim here stated, taken to an unlimited extent, is doubtless a very +dangerous one. There are obstacles that scarcely any strength of man +would be sufficient to conquer. "Chill penury" will sometimes "repress +the noblest rage," that almost ever animated a human spirit: and our +wisest course will probably be, secretly to favour, even when we seem +most to oppose, the genuine bent of the youthful aspirer. + +But the thing of greatest importance is, that we should not teach him +to estimate his powers at too low a rate. One of the wisest of all the +precepts comprised in what are called the Golden Verses of Pythagoras, +is that, in which he enjoins his pupil to "reverence himself." Ambition +is the noblest root that can be planted in the garden of the human soul: +not the ambition to be applauded and admired, to be famous and looked up +to, to be the darling theme of "stupid starers and of loud huzzas;" but +the ambition to fill a respectable place in the theatre of society, to +be useful and to be esteemed, to feel that we have not lived in vain, +and that we are entitled to the most honourable of all dismissions, an +enlightened self-approbation. And nothing can more powerfully tend to +place this beyond our acquisition, even our contemplation, than the +perpetual and hourly rebuffs which ingenuous youth is so often doomed +to sustain from the supercilious pedant, and the rigid decision of his +unfeeling elders. + +Self-respect to be nourished in the mind of the pupil, is one of the +most valuable results of a well conducted education. To accomplish this, +it is most necessary that it should never be inculcated into him, +that he is dull. Upon the principles of this Essay, any unfavourable +appearances that may present themselves, do not arise from the dulness +of the pupil, but from the error of those upon whose superintendence he +is cast, who require of him the things for which he is not adapted, and +neglect those in which he is qualified to excel. + +It is further necessary, if self-respect is one of the most desirable +results of a well-conducted education, that, as we should not humble +the pupil in his own eyes by disgraceful and humiliating language, so +we should abstain, as much as possible, from personal ill-treatment, and +the employing towards him the measures of an owner towards his purchased +or indentured slave. Indignity is of all things the most hostile to the +best purposes of a liberal education. It may be necessary occasionally +to employ, towards a human creature in his years of nonage, the +stimulants of exhortation and remonstrance even in the pursuits to which +he is best adapted, for the purpose of overcoming the instability and +fits of idleness to which all men, and most of all in their early +years, are subject: though in such pursuits a necessity of this sort can +scarcely be supposed. The bow must not always be bent; and it is good +for us that we should occasionally relax and play the fool. It may more +readily be imagined, that some incitement may be called for in those +things which, as has been mentioned above, it may be fit he should learn +though with but half a will. All freaks must not be indulged; admonition +is salutary, and that the pupil should be awakened by his instructor to +sober reflection and to masculine exertion. Every Telemachus should have +his Mentor.--But through the whole it is necessary that the spirit of +the pupil should not be broken, and that he should not be treated with +contumely. Stripes should in all instances be regarded as the last +resort, and as a sort of problem set up for the wisdom of the wise to +solve, whether the urgent case can arise in which it shall be requisite +to have recourse to them. + +The principles here laid down have the strongest tendency to prove to +us how little progress has yet been made in the art of turning human +creatures to the best account. Every man has his place, in which if +he can be fixed, the most fastidious judge cannot look upon him with +disdain. But, to effect this arrangement, an exact attention is required +to ascertain the pursuit in which he will best succeed. In India the +whole mass of the members of the community is divided into castes; and, +instead of a scrupulous attention being paid to the early intimations of +individual character, it is already decided upon each, before he comes +into the world, which child shall be a priest, and which a soldier, a +physician, a lawyer, a merchant, and an artisan. In Europe we do not +carry this so far, and are not so elaborately wrong. But the rudiments +of the same folly flourish among us; and the accident of birth for +the most part decides the method of life to which each individual with +whatever violence shall be dedicated. A very few only, by means of +energies that no tyranny can subdue, escape from the operation of this +murderous decree. + +Nature never made a dunce. Imbecility of mind is as rare, as deformity +of the animal frame. If this position be true, we have only to bear it +in mind, feelingly to convince ourselves, how wholesale the error +is into which society has hitherto fallen in the destination of its +members, and how much yet remains to be done, before our common nature +can be vindicated from the basest of all libels, the most murderous of +all proscriptions. + +There is a passage in Voltaire, in which he expresses himself to this +effect: "It is after all but a slight line of separation that divides +the man of genius from the man of ordinary mould." I remember the place +where, and the time when, I read this passage. But I have been unable to +find the expression. It is however but reasonable that I should refer +to it on this occasion, that I may hereby shew so eminent a modern +concurring with the venerable ancient in an early era of letters, whose +dictum I have prefixed to this Essay, to vouch to a certain extent for +the truth of the doctrine I have delivered. + + + + +ESSAY III. OF INTELLECTUAL ABORTION. + +In the preceding Essay I have endeavoured to establish the proposition, +that every human creature, idiots and extraordinary cases excepted, is +endowed with talents, which, if rightly directed, would shew him to +be apt, adroit, intelligent and acute, in the walk for which his +organisation especially fitted him. + +There is however a sort of phenomenon, by no means of rare occurrence, +which tends to place the human species under a less favourable point of +view. Many men, as has already appeared, are forced into situations and +pursuits ill assorted to their talents, and by that means are exhibited +to their contemporaries in a light both despicable and ludicrous. + +But this is not all. Men are not only placed, by the absurd choice +of their parents, or an imperious concurrence of circumstances, +in destinations and employments in which they can never appear to +advantage: they frequently, without any external compulsion, select +for themselves objects of their industry, glaringly unadapted to their +powers, and in which all their efforts must necessarily terminate in +miscarriage. + +I remember a young man, who had been bred a hair-dresser, but who +experienced, as he believed, the secret visitations of the Muse, and +became inspired. "With sad civility, and aching head," I perused no +fewer than six comedies from the pen of this aspiring genius, in no page +of which I could discern any glimmering of poetry or wit, or in reality +could form a guess what it was that the writer intended in his elaborate +effusions. Such are the persons enumerated by Pope in the Prologue to +his Satires, + + a parson, much bemused in beer, + A maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer, + A clerk, foredoomed his father's sou to cross, + Who pens a stanza, when he should engross. + +Every manager of a theatre, and every publishing bookseller of eminence, +can produce you in each revolving season whole reams, almost cartloads, +of blurred paper, testifying the frequent recurrence of this phenomenon. + +The cause however of this painful mistake does not lie in the +circumstance, that each man has not from the hand of nature an +appropriate destination, a sphere assigned him, in which, if life +should be prolonged to him, he might be secure of the respect of his +neighbours, and might write upon his tomb, "I have filled an honourable +career; I have finished my course." + +One of the most glaring infirmities of our nature is discontent. One of +the most unquestionable characteristics of the human mind is the love +of novelty. Omne ignotum pro magnifico est. We are satiated with those +objects which make a part of our business in every day, and are desirous +of trying something that is a stranger to us. Whatever we see through +a mist, or in the twilight, is apt to be apprehended by us as something +admirable, for the single reason that it is seen imperfectly. What we +are sure that we can easily and adequately effect, we despise. He that +goes into battle with an adversary of more powerful muscle or of greater +practice than himself, feels a tingling sensation, not unallied to +delight, very different from that which would occur to him, when his +victory was easy and secure. + +Each man is conscious what it is that he can certainly effect. This does +not therefore present itself to him as an object of ambition. We have +many of us internally something of the spirit expressed by the apostle: +"Forgetting the things that are behind, we press forward to those that +remain." And, so long as this precept is soberly applied, no conduct can +be more worthy of praise. Improvement is the appropriate race of man. We +cannot stand still. If we do not go forward, we shall inevitably recede. +Shakespear, when he wrote his Hamlet, did not know that he could produce +Macbeth and Othello. + +But the progress of a man of reflection will be, to a considerable +degree, in the path he has already entered. If he strikes into a new +career, it will not be without deep premeditation. He will attempt +nothing wantonly. He will carefully examine his powers, and see for what +they are adapted. Sudet multum. He will be like the man, who first in a +frail bark committed himself to the treachery of the waves. He will +keep near to the shore; he will tremble for the audaciousness of +his enterprise; he will feel that it calls for all his alertness and +vigilance. The man of reflection will not begin, till he feels his mind +swelling with his purposed theme, till his blood flows fitfully and +with full pulses through his veins, till his eyes sparkle with the +intenseness of his conceptions, and his "bosom labours with the God." + +But the fool dashes in at once. He does not calculate the dangers of his +enterprise. He does not study the map of the country he has to traverse. +He does not measure the bias of the ground, the rising knolls and the +descending slopes that are before him. He obeys a blind and unreflecting +impulse. + +His case bears a striking resemblance to what is related of Oliver +Goldsmith. Goldsmith was a man of the most felicitous endowments. His +prose flows with such ease, copiousness and grace, that it resembles the +song of the sirens. His verses are among the most spirited, natural and +unaffected in the English language. Yet he was not contented. If he saw +a consummate dancer, he knew no reason why he should not do as well, +and immediately felt disposed to essay his powers. If he heard an +accomplished musician, he undertook to enter the lists with him. His +conduct was of a piece with that of the countryman, who, cheapening +spectacles, and making experiment of them for ever in vain upon the +book before him, was at length asked, "Could you ever read without +spectacles?" to which he was obliged to answer, "I do not know; I never +tried." The vanity of Goldsmith was infinite; and his failure in such +attempts must necessarily have been ludicrous. + +The splendour of the thing presented to our observation, awakens +the spirit within us. The applause and admiration excited by certain +achievements and accomplishments infects us with desire. We are like +the youthful Themistocles, who complained that the trophies of Miltiades +would not let him sleep. We are like the novice Guido, who, while +looking on the paintings of Michael Angelo, exclaimed, "I also am a +painter." Themistocles and Guido were right, for they were of kindred +spirit to the great men they admired. But the applause bestowed on +others will often generate uneasiness and a sigh, in men least of all +qualified by nature to acquire similar applause. We are not contented to +proceed in the path of obscure usefulness and worth. We are eager to be +admired, and thus often engage in pursuits for which perhaps we are of +all men least adapted Each one would be the man above him. + +And this is the cause why we see so many individuals, who might have +passed their lives with honour, devote themselves to incredible efforts, +only that they may be made supremely ridiculous. + +To this let it be added, that the wisest man that ever existed, never +yet knew himself, especially in the morning of life. The person, who +ultimately stamped his history with the most heroic achievements, was +far perhaps even from suspecting, in the dawn of his existence, that he +should realise the miracles that mark its maturity. He might be ready to +exclaim, with Hazael in the Scriptures, "Is thy servant more than man, +that he should do this great thing?" The sublimest poet that ever sung, +was peradventure, while a stripling, unconscious of the treasures which +formed a part of the fabric of his mind, and unsuspicious of the high +destiny that in the sequel awaited him. What wonder then, that, awaking +from the insensibility and torpor which precede the activity of the +soul, some men should believe in a fortune that shall never be theirs, +and anticipate a glory they are fated never to sustain! And for the same +reason, when unanticipated failure becomes their lot, they are unwilling +at first to be discouraged, and find a certain gallantry in persevering, +and "against hope believing in hope." + +This is the explanation of a countless multitude of failures that +occur in the career of literature. Nor is this phenomenon confined to +literature. In all the various paths of human existence, that appear +to have something in them splendid and alluring, there are perpetual +instances of daring adventures, unattended with the smallest rational +hope of success. Optat ephippia bos piger. + + All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. + +But, beside these instances of perfect and glaring miscarriage, there +are examples worthy of a deeper regret, where the juvenile candidate +sets out in the morning of life with the highest promise, with colours +flying, and the spirit-stirring note of gallant preparation, when yet +his voyage of life is destined to terminate in total discomfiture. I +have seen such an one, whose early instructors regarded him with +the most sanguine expectation, and his elders admired him, while his +youthful competitors unreluctantly confessed his superiority, and gave +way on either side to his triumphant career; and all this has terminated +in nothing. + +In reality the splendid march of genius is beset with a thousand +difficulties. "The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to +the strong." A multitude of unthought-of qualifications are required; +and it depends at least as much upon the nicely maintained balance +of these, as upon the copiousness and brilliancy of each, whether the +result shall be auspicious. The progress of genius is like the flight of +an arrow; a breath may turn it out of its course, and cause that course +to terminate many a degree wide of its purposed mark. It is therefore +scarcely possible that any sharpness of foresight can pronounce of the +noblest beginnings whether they shall reach to an adequate conclusion. + +I have seen such a man, with the most fervent imagination, with the +most diligent study, with the happiest powers of memory, and with an +understanding that apparently took in every thing, and arranged every +thing, at the same time that by its acuteness it seemed able to add to +the accumulated stores of foregone wisdom and learning new treasures of +its own; and yet this man shall pass through the successive stages of +human life, in appearance for ever active, for ever at work, and leave +nothing behind that shall embalm his name to posterity, certainly +nothing in any degree adequately representing those excellencies, which +a chosen few, admitted to his retired and his serenest hours, knew to +reside in him. + +There are conceptions of the mind, that come forth like the coruscations +of lightning. If you could fix that flash, it would seem as if it +would give new brightness to the sons of men, and almost extinguish the +luminary of day. But, ere you can say it is here, it is gone. It +appears to reveal to us the secrets of the world unknown; but the clouds +congregate again, and shut in upon us, before we had time to apprehend +its full radiance and splendour. + +To give solidity and permanence to the inspirations of genius two things +are especially necessary. First, that the idea to be communicated should +be powerfully apprehended by the speaker or writer; and next, that he +should employ words and phrases which might convey it in all its truth +to the mind of another. The man who entertains such conceptions, will +not unfrequently want the steadiness of nerve which is required for +their adequate transmission. Suitable words will not always wait upon +his thoughts. Language is in reality a vast labyrinth, a scene like the +Hercinian Forest of old, which, we are told, could not be traversed in +less than sixty days. If we do not possess the clue, we shall infallibly +perish in the attempt, and our thoughts and our memory will expire with +us. + +The sentences of this man, when he speaks, or when he writes, will be +full of perplexity and confusion. They will be endless, and never +arrive at their proper termination. They will include parenthesis on +parenthesis. We perceive the person who delivers them, to be perpetually +labouring after a meaning, but never reaching it. He is like one flung +over into the sea, unprovided with the skill that should enable him +to contend with the tumultuous element. He flounders about in pitiable +helplessness, without the chance of extricating himself by all his +efforts. He is lost in unintelligible embarrassment. It is a delightful +and a ravishing sight, to observe another man come after him, and +tell, without complexity, and in the simplicity of self-possession, +unconscious that there was any difficulty, all that his predecessor had +fruitlessly exerted himself to unfold. + +There are a multitude of causes that will produce a miscarriage of this +sort, where the richest soil, impregnated with the choicest seeds of +learning and observation, shall entirely fail to present us with such +a crop as might rationally have been anticipated. Many such men waste +their lives in indolence and irresolution. They attempt many things, +sketch out plans, which, if properly filled up, might illustrate the +literature of a nation, and extend the empire of the human mind, but +which yet they desert as soon as begun, affording us the promise of a +beautiful day, that, ere it is noon, is enveloped in darkest tempests +and the clouds of midnight. They skim away from one flower in the +parterre of literature to another, like the bee, without, like the bee, +gathering sweetness from each, to increase the public stock, and +enrich the magazine of thought. The cause of this phenomenon is an +unsteadiness, ever seduced by the newness of appearances, and never +settling with firmness and determination upon what had been chosen. + +Others there are that are turned aside from the career they might have +accomplished, by a visionary and impracticable fastidiousness. They can +find nothing that possesses all the requisites that should fix their +choice, nothing so good that should authorise them to present it to +public observation, and enable them to offer it to their contemporaries +as something that we should "not willingly let die." They begin often; +but nothing they produce appears to them such as that they should say of +it, "Let this stand." Or they never begin, none of their thoughts being +judged by them to be altogether such as to merit the being preserved. +They have a microscopic eye, and discern faults unworthy to be +tolerated, in that in which the critic himself might perceive nothing +but beauty. + +These phenomena have introduced a maxim which is current with many, +that the men who write nothing, and bequeath no record of themselves +to posterity, are not unfrequently of larger calibre, and more gigantic +standard of soul, than such as have inscribed their names upon the +columns of the temple of Fame. And certain it is, that there are +extraordinary instances which appear in some degree to countenance this +assertion. Many men are remembered as authors, who seem to have owed the +permanence of their reputation rather to fortune than merit. They were +daring, and stepped into a niche that was left in the gallery of art or +of science, where others of higher qualifications, but of unconquerable +modesty, held back. At the same time persons, whose destiny caused them +to live among the elite of an age, have seen reason to confess that they +have heard such talk, such glorious and unpremeditated discourse, from +men whose thoughts melted away with the breath that uttered them, as the +wisest of their vaunted contemporary authors would in vain have sought +to rival. + +The maxim however, notwithstanding these appearances, may safely be +pronounced to be a fallacious one. It has been received in various +quarters with the greater indulgence, inasmuch as the human mind is +prone in many cases to give a more welcome reception to seeming truths, +that present us at the first blush the appearance of falshood. + +It must however be recollected that the human mind consists in the first +instance merely of faculties prepared to be applied to certain purposes, +and susceptible of improvement. It cannot therefore happen, that the +man, who has chosen a subject towards which to direct the energy of his +faculties, who has sought on all sides for the materials that should +enable him to do that subject justice, who has employed upon it his +contemplations by day, and his meditations during the watches of the +night, should not by such exercise greatly invigorate his powers. In +this sense there was much truth in the observation of the author who +said, "I did not write upon the subject you mention because I understood +it; but I understood it afterward, because I had written upon it." + +The man who merely wanders through the fields of knowledge in search +of its gayest flowers and of whatever will afford him the most enviable +amusement, will necessarily return home at night with a very slender +collection. He that shall apply himself with self-denial and +an unshrinking resolution to the improvement of his mind, will +unquestionably be found more fortunate in the end. + +He is not deterred by the gulphs that yawn beneath his feet, or the +mountains that may oppose themselves to his progress. He knows that the +adventurer of timid mind, and that is infirm of purpose, will never make +himself master of those points which it would be most honourable to him +to subdue. But he who undertakes to commit to writing the result of +his researches, and to communicate his discoveries to mankind, is the +genuine hero. Till he enters on this task, every thing is laid up in +his memory in a certain confusion. He thinks he possesses a thing whole; +but, when he brings it to the test, he is surprised to find how much he +was deceived. He that would digest his thoughts and his principles into +a regular system, is compelled in the first place to regard them in all +their clearness and perspicuity, and in the next place to select the +fittest words by which they may be communicated to others. It is through +the instrumentality of words that we are taught to think accurately and +severely for ourselves; they are part and parcel of all our propositions +and theories. It is therefore in this way that a preceptor, by +undertaking to enlighten the mind of his pupil, enlightens his own. He +becomes twice the man in the sequel, that he was when he entered on his +task. We admire the amateur student in his public essays, as we admire +a jackdaw or a parrot: he does considerably more than could have been +expected from him. + +In attending to the subject of this Essay we have been led to observe +the different ways, in which the mind of man may be brought into +a position tending to exhibit its powers in a less creditable and +prepossessing point of view, than that in which all men, idiots and +extraordinary cases excepted, are by nature qualified to appear. Many, +not contented with those occupations, modest and humble in certain +cases, to which their endowments and original bent had designed them, +shew themselves immoderately set upon more alluring and splendid +pursuits in which they are least qualified to excel. Other instances +there are, still more entitled to our regret, where the individual is +seen to be gifted with no ordinary qualities, where his morning of life +has proved auspicious, and the highest expectations were formed of a +triumphant career, while yet in the final experiment he has been found +wanting, and the "voyage of his life" has passed "in shallows and in +miseries." + +But our survey of the subject of which I treat will not be complete, +unless we add to what has been said, another striking truth respecting +the imperfection of man collectively taken. The examples of which the +history of our species consists, not only abound in cases, where, from +mistakes in the choice of life, or radical and irremediable imperfection +in the adventurer, the most glaring miscarriages are found to +result,--but it is also true, that all men, even the most illustrious, +have some fatal weakness, obliging both them and their rational admirers +to confess, that they partake of human frailty, and belong to a race of +beings which has small occasion to be proud. Each man has his assailable +part. He is vulnerable, though it be only like the fabled Achilles in +his heel. We are like the image that Nebuchadnezzar saw in his dream, of +which though the head was of fine gold, and the breast and the arms were +silver, yet the feet were partly only of iron, and partly of clay. No +man is whole and entire, armed at all points, and qualified for every +undertaking, or even for any one undertaking, so as to carry it through, +and to make the achievement he would perform, or the work he would +produce, in all its parts equal and complete. + +It is a gross misapprehension in such men as, smitten with admiration of +a certain cluster of excellencies, or series of heroic acts, are +willing to predicate of the individual to whom they belong, "This man +is consummate, and without alloy." Take the person in his retirement, in +his hours of relaxation, when he has no longer a part to play, and one +or more spectators before whom he is desirous to appear to advantage, +and you shall find him a very ordinary man. He has "passions, +dimensions, senses, affections, like the rest of his fellow-creatures, +is fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, warmed and +cooled by the same summer and winter." He will therefore, when narrowly +observed, be unquestionably found betraying human weaknesses, and +falling into fits of ill humour, spleen, peevishness and folly. No man +is always a sage; no bosom at all times beats with sentiments lofty, +self-denying and heroic. It is enough if he does so, "when the matter +fits his mighty mind." + +The literary genius, who undertakes to produce some consummate work, +will find himself pitiably in error, if he expects to turn it out of his +hands, entire in all its parts, and without a flaw. + +There are some of the essentials of which it is constituted, that he has +mastered, and is sufficiently familiar with them; but there are others, +especially if his work is miscellaneous and comprehensive, to which he +is glaringly incompetent. He must deny his nature, and become another +man, if he would execute these parts, in a manner equal to that which +their intrinsic value demands, or to the perfection he is able to give +to his work in those places which are best suited to his powers. There +are points in which the wisest man that ever existed is no stronger than +a child. In this sense the sublimest genius will be found infelix operas +summa, nam ponere totum nescit. And, if he properly knows himself, and +is aware where lies his strength, and where his weakness, he will look +for nothing more in the particulars which fall under the last of these +heads, than to escape as he can, and to pass speedily to things in which +he finds himself at home and at his ease. + +Shakespear we are accustomed to call the most universal genius that ever +existed. He has a truly wonderful variety. It is almost impossible +to pronounce in which he has done best, his Hamlet, Macbeth, Lear, +or Othello. He is equally excellent in his comic vein as his tragic. +Falstaff is in his degree to the full as admirable and astonishing, as +what he achieved that is noblest under the auspices of the graver +muse. His poetry and the fruits of his imagination are unrivalled. His +language, in all that comes from him when his genius is most alive, has +a richness, an unction, and all those signs of a character which admits +not of mortality and decay, for ever fresh as when it was first uttered, +which we recognise, while we can hardly persuade ourselves that we +are not in a delusion. As Anthony Wood says(4), "By the writings of +Shakespear and others of his time, the English tongue was exceedingly +enriched, and made quite another thing than what it was before." His +versification on these occasions has a melody, a ripeness and variety +that no other pen has reached. + + + (4) Athenae Oxonienses, vol. i. p. 592. + + +Yet there were things that Shakespear could not do. He could not make +a hero. Familiar as he was with the evanescent touches of mind en +dishabille, and in its innermost feelings, he could not sustain the +tone of a character, penetrated with a divine enthusiasm, or fervently +devoted to a generous cause, though this is truly within the compass of +our nature, and is more than any other worthy to be delineated. He could +conceive such sentiments, for there are such in his personage of Brutus; +but he could not fill out and perfect what he has thus sketched. He +seems even to have had a propensity to bring the mountain and the +hill to a level with the plain. Caesar is spiritless, and Cicero is +ridiculous, in his hands. He appears to have written his Troilus and +Cressida partly with a view to degrade, and hold up to contempt, the +heroes of Homer; and he has even disfigured the pure, heroic affection +which the Greek poet has painted as existing between Achilles and +Patroclus with the most odious imputations. + +And, as he could not sustain an heroic character throughout, so neither +could he construct a perfect plot, in which the interest should be +perpetually increasing, and the curiosity of the spectator kept alive +and in suspense to the last moment. Several of his plays have an unity +of subject to which nothing is wanting; but he has not left us any +production that should rival that boast of Ancient Greece in the conduct +of a plot, the OEdipus Tyrannus, a piece in which each act rises upon +the act before, like a tower that lifts its head story above story to +the skies. He has scarcely ever given to any of his plays a fifth act, +worthy of those that preceded; the interest generally decreases after +the third. + +Shakespear is also liable to the charge of obscurity. The most sagacious +critics dispute to this very hour, whether Hamlet is or is not mad, +and whether Falstaff is a brave man or a coward. This defect is perhaps +partly to be imputed to the nature of dramatic writing. It is next to +impossible to make words, put into the mouth of a character, develop all +those things passing in his mind, which it may be desirable should be +known. + +I spoke, a short time back, of the language of Shakespear in his finest +passages, as of unrivalled excellence and beauty; I might almost have +called it miraculous. O, si sic omnia! It is to be lamented that this +felicity often deserts him. He is not seldom cramp, rigid and pedantic. +What is best in him is eternal, of all ages and times; but what is +worst, is crusted with an integument, almost more cumbrous than that of +any other writer, his contemporary, the merits of whose works continue +to invite us to their perusal. + +After Shakespear, it is scarcely worth while to bring forward any +other example, of a writer who, notwithstanding his undoubted claims to +excellencies of the highest order, yet in his productions fully displays +the inequality and non-universality of his genius. One of the most +remarkable instances may be alleged in Richardson, the author of +Clarissa. In his delineation of female delicacy, of high-souled +and generous sentiments, of the subtlest feelings and even mental +aberrations of virtuous distress strained beyond the power of human +endurance, nothing ever equalled this author. But he could not shape +out the image of a perfect gentleman, or of that winning gaiety of soul, +which may indeed be exemplified, but can never be defined, and never be +resisted. His profligate is a man without taste; and his coquettes are +insolent and profoundly revolting. He has no resemblance of the art, +so conspicuous in Fletcher and Farquhar, of presenting to the reader +or spectator an hilarity, bubbling and spreading forth from a perennial +spring, which we love as surely as we feel, which communicates its own +tone to the bystander, and makes our very hearts dance within us with +a responsive sportiveness. We are astonished however that the formal +pedant has acquitted himself of his uncongenial task with so great a +display of intellectual wealth; and, though he has not presented to us +the genuine picture of an intellectual profligate, or of that lovely +gaiety of the female spirit which we have all of us seen, but which it +is scarcely possible to fix and to copy, we almost admire the more the +astonishing talent, that, having undertaken a task for which it was so +eminently unfit, yet has been able to substitute for the substance so +amazing a mockery, and has treated with so much copiousness and power +what it was unfit ever to have attempted. + + + + +ESSAY IV. OF THE DURABILITY OF HUMAN ACHIEVEMENTS AND PRODUCTIONS. + +There is a view of the character of man, calculated more perhaps than +any other to impress us with reverence and awe. + +Man is the only creature we know, that, when the term of his natural +life is ended, leaves the memory of himself behind him. + +All other animals have but one object in view in their more considerable +actions, the supply of the humbler accommodations of their nature. Man +has a power sufficient for the accomplishment of this object, and a +residue of power beyond, which he is able, and which he not unfrequently +feels himself prompted, to employ in consecutive efforts, and thus, +first by the application and arrangement of material substances, and +afterward by the faculty he is found to possess of giving a permanent +record to his thoughts, to realise the archetypes and conceptions which +previously existed only in his mind. + +One method, calculated to place this fact strongly before us, is, to +suppose ourselves elevated, in a balloon or otherwise, so as to enable +us to take an extensive prospect of the earth on which we dwell. We +shall then see the plains and the everlasting hills, the forests and the +rivers, and all the exuberance of production which nature brings +forth for the supply of her living progeny. We shall see multitudes of +animals, herds of cattle and of beasts of prey, and all the varieties +of the winged tenants of the air. But we shall also behold, in a manner +almost equally calculated to arrest our attention, the traces and the +monuments of human industry. We shall see castles and churches, and +hamlets and mighty cities. We shall see this strange creature, man, +subjecting all nature to his will. He builds bridges, and he constructs +aqueducts. He "goes down to the sea in ships," and variegates the ocean +with his squadrons and his fleets. To the person thus mounted in the +air to take a wide and magnificent prospect, there seems to be a sort +of contest between the face of the earth, as it may be supposed to have +been at first, and the ingenuity of man, which shall occupy and possess +itself of the greatest number of acres. We cover immense regions of the +globe with the tokens of human cultivation. + +Thus the matter stands as to the exertions of the power of man in the +application and arrangement of material substances. + +But there is something to a profound and contemplative mind much more +extraordinary, in the effects produced by the faculty we possess of +giving a permanent record to our thoughts. + +From the development of this faculty all human science and literature +take their commencement. Here it is that we most distinctly, and with +the greatest astonishment, perceive that man is a miracle. Declaimers +are perpetually expatiating to us upon the shortness of human life. +And yet all this is performed by us, when the wants of our nature have +already by our industry been supplied. We manufacture these sublimities +and everlasting monuments out of the bare remnants and shreds of our +time. + +The labour of the intellect of man is endless. How copious is the +volume, and how extraordinary the variety, of our sciences and our +arts! The number of men is exceedingly great in every civilised state of +society, that make these the sole object of their occupation. And this +has been more or less the condition of our species in all ages, ever +since we left the savage and the pastoral modes of existence. + +From this view of the history of man we are led by an easy transition +to the consideration of the nature and influence of the love of fame in +modifying the actions of the human mind. We have already stated it to be +one of the characteristic distinctions of our species to erect monuments +which outlast the existence of the persons that produced them. This at +first was accidental, and did not enter the design of the operator. The +man who built himself a shed to protect him from the inclemency of +the seasons, and afterwards exchanged that shed for a somewhat more +commodious dwelling, did not at first advert to the circumstance that +the accommodation might last, when he was no longer capable to partake +of it. + +In this way perhaps the wish to extend the memory of ourselves beyond +the term of our mortal existence, and the idea of its being practicable +to gratify that wish, descended upon us together. In contemplating +the brief duration and the uncertainty of human life, the idea must +necessarily have occurred, that we might survive those we loved, or that +they might survive us. In the first case we inevitably wish more or less +to cherish the memory of the being who once was an object of affection +to us, but of whose society death has deprived us. In the second case +it can scarcely happen but that we desire ourselves to be kindly +recollected by those we leave behind us. So simple is the first germ +of that longing after posthumous honour, which presents us with so +memorable effects in the page of history. + +But, previously to the further consideration of posthumous fame, let us +turn our attention for a moment to the fame, or, as in that sense it +is more usually styled, popularity, which is the lot of a few favoured +individuals while they live. The attending to the subject in this point +of view, will be found to throw light upon the more extensive prospect +of the question to which we will immediately afterwards proceed. + +Popularity is an acquisition more level to the most ordinary capacities, +and therefore is a subject of more general ambition, than posthumous +fame. It addresses itself to the senses. Applause is a species of good +fortune to which perhaps no mortal ear is indifferent. The persons who +constitute the circle in which we are applauded, receive us with smiles +of approbation and sympathy. They pay their court to us, seem to be made +happy by our bare presence among them, and welcome us to their houses +with congratulation and joy. The vulgar portion of mankind scarcely +understand the question of posthumous fame, they cannot comprehend how +panegyric and honour can "soothe the dull, cold ear of death:" but +they can all conceive the gratification to be derived from applauding +multitudes and loud huzzas. + +One of the most obvious features however that attends upon popularity, +is its fugitive nature. No man has once been popular, and has lived +long, without experiencing neglect at least, if he were not also at some +time subjected to the very intelligible disapprobation and censure of +his fellows. The good will and kindness of the multitude has a devouring +appetite, and is like a wild beast that you should stable under your +roof, which, if you do not feed with a continual supply, will turn about +and attack its protector. + + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,-- + That all, with one consent, praise new-born gauds, + And give to dust, that is a little gilt, + More laud than they will give to gold o'erdusted. + +Cromwel well understood the nature of this topic, when he said, as we +are told, to one of his military companions, who called his attention to +the rapturous approbation with which they were received by the crowd on +their return from a successful expedition, "Ah, my friend, they would +accompany us with equal demonstrations of delight, if, upon no distant +occasion, they were to see us going to be hanged!" + +The same thing which happens to the popularity attendant on the real +or imaginary hero of the multitude, happens also in the race after +posthumous fame. + +As has already been said, the number of men is exceedingly great +in every civilised state of society, who make the sciences and arts +engendered by the human mind, the sole or the principal objects of their +occupation. + +This will perhaps be most strikingly illustrated by a retrospect of +the state of European society in the middle, or, as they are frequently +styled, the dark ages. + +It has been a vulgar error to imagine, that the mind of man, so far as +relates to its active and inventive powers, was sunk into a profound +sleep, from which it gradually recovered itself at the period when +Constantinople was taken by the Turks, and the books and the teachers of +the ancient Greek language were dispersed through Europe. The epoch from +which modern invention took its rise, commenced much earlier. The feudal +system, one of the most interesting contrivances of man in society, was +introduced in the ninth century; and chivalry, the offspring of that +system, an institution to which we are mainly indebted for refinement +of sentiment, and humane and generous demeanour, in the eleventh. Out of +these grew the originality and the poetry of romance. + +These were no mean advancements. But perhaps the greatest debt which +after ages have contracted to this remote period, arose out of the +system of monasteries and ecclesiastical celibacy. Owing to these a +numerous race of men succeeded to each other perpetually, who were +separated from the world, cut off from the endearments of conjugal and +parental affection, and who had a plenitude of leisure for solitary +application. To these men we are indebted for the preservation of +the literature of Rome, and the multiplied copies of the works of the +ancients. Nor were they contented only with the praise of never-ending +industry. They forged many works, that afterwards passed for classical, +and which have demanded all the perspicacity of comparative criticism to +refute. And in these pursuits the indefatigable men who were dedicated +to them, were not even goaded by the love of fame. They were satisfied +with the consciousness of their own perseverance and ingenuity. + +But the most memorable body of men that adorned these ages, were the +Schoolmen. They may be considered as the discoverers of the art of +logic. The ancients possessed in an eminent degree the gift of genius; +but they have little to boast on the score of arrangement, and discover +little skill in the strictness of an accurate deduction. They rather +arrive at truth by means of a felicity of impulse, than in consequence +of having regularly gone through the process which leads to it. The +schools of the middle ages gave birth to the Irrefragable and +the Seraphic doctors, the subtlety of whose distinctions, and the +perseverance of whose investigations, are among the most wonderful +monuments of the intellectual power of man. The thirteenth century +produced Thomas Aquinas, and Johannes Duns Scotus, and William Occam, +and Roger Bacon. In the century before, Thomas a Becket drew around him +a circle of literary men, whose correspondence has been handed down to +us, and who deemed it their proudest distinction that they called each +other philosophers. The Schoolmen often bewildered themselves in their +subtleties, and often delivered dogmas and systems that may astonish +the common sense of unsophisticated understandings. But such is man. +So great is his persevering labour, his invincible industry, and the +resolution with which he sets himself, year after year, and lustre after +lustre, to accomplish the task which his judgment and his zeal have +commanded him to pursue. + +But I return to the question of literary fame. All these men, and men of +a hundred other classes, who laboured most commendably and gallantly in +their day, may be considered as swept away into the gulph of oblivion. +As Swift humorously says in his Dedication to Prince Posterity, "I had +prepared a copious list of Titles to present to your highness, as an +undisputed argument of the prolificness of human genius in my own time: +the originals were posted upon all gates and corner's of streets: but, +returning in a very few hours to take a review, they were all torn down, +and fresh ones put in their places. I enquired after them among readers +and booksellers, but in vain: the memorial of them was lost among men; +their place was no more to be found." + +It is a just remark that had been made by Hume(5): "Theories of abstract +philosophy, systems of profound theology, have prevailed during one +age. In a successive period these have been universally exploded; their +absurdity has been detected; other theories and systems have supplied +their place, which again gave way to their successors; and nothing has +been experienced more liable to the revolutions of chance and fashion +than these pretended decisions of science. The case is not the same with +the beauties of eloquence and poetry. Just expressions of passion and +nature are sure, after a little time, to gain public applause, which +they maintain for ever. Aristotle and Plato and Epicurus and Descartes +may successively yield to each other: but Terence and Virgil maintain +an universal, undisputed empire over the minds of men. The abstract +philosophy of Cicero has lost its credit: the vehemence of his oratory +is still the object of our admiration." + +(5) Essays, Part 1, Essay xxiii. + + +A few examples of the instability of fame will place this question in +the clearest light. + +Nicholas Peiresk was born in the year 1580. His progress in knowledge +was so various and unprecedented, that, from the time that he was +twenty-one years of age, he was universally considered as holding the +helm of learning in his hand, and guiding the commonwealth of letters. +He died at the age of fifty-seven. The academy of the Humoristi at Rome +paid the most extraordinary honours to his memory; many of the cardinals +assisted at his funeral oration; and a collection of verses in his +praise was published in more than forty languages. + +Salmasius was regarded as a prodigy of learning; and various princes +and powers entered into a competition who should be so fortunate as to +secure his residence in their states. Christina, queen of Sweden, +having obtained the preference, received him with singular reverence and +attention; and, Salmasius being taken ill at Stockholm, and confined to +his bed, the queen persisted with her own hand to prepare his caudles, +and mend his fire. Yet, but for the accident of his having had Milton +for his adversary, his name would now be as little remembered, even by +the generality of the learned, as that of Peiresk. + +Du Bartas, in the reign of Henry the Fourth of France, was one of the +most successful poets that ever existed. His poem on the Creation of the +World went through upwards of thirty editions in the course of five +or six years, was translated into most European languages, and +its commentators promised to equal in copiousness and number the +commentators on Homer. + +One of the most admired of our English poets about the close of the +sixteenth century, was Donne. Unlike many of those trivial writers of +verse who succeeded him after an interval of forty or fifty years, and +who won for themselves a brilliant reputation by the smoothness of their +numbers, the elegance of their conceptions, and the politeness of their +style, Donne was full of originality, energy and vigour. No man can +read him without feeling himself called upon for earnest exercise of +his thinking powers, and, even with the most fixed attention and +application, the student is often obliged to confess his inability +to take in the whole of the meaning with which the poet's mind was +perceptibly fraught. Every sentence that Donne writes, whether in verse +or prose, is exclusively his own. In addition to this, his thoughts are +often in the noblest sense of the word poetical; and passages may be +quoted from him that no English poet may attempt to rival, unless it be +Milton and Shakespear. Ben Jonson observed of him with great truth and a +prophetic spirit: "Donne for not being understood will perish." But this +is not all. If Waller and Suckling and Carew sacrificed every thing to +the Graces, Donne went into the other extreme. With a few splendid and +admirable exceptions, his phraseology and versification are crabbed and +repulsive. And, as poetry is read in the first place for pleasure, Donne +is left undisturbed on the shelf, or rather in the sepulchre; and +not one in an hundred even among persons of cultivation, can give any +account of him, if in reality they ever heard of his productions. + +The name of Shakespear is that before which every knee must bow. But it +was not always so. When the first novelty of his pieces was gone, they +were seldom called into requisition. Only three or four of his plays +were upon the acting list of the principal company of players during +the reign of Charles the Second; and the productions of Beaumont and +Fletcher, and of Shirley, were acted three times for once of his. At +length Betterton revived, and by his admirable representation gave +popularity to, Macbeth, Hamlet and Lear, a popularity they have ever +since retained. But Macbeth was not revived (with music, and alterations +by sir William Davenant) till 1674; and Lear a few years later, with +love scenes and a happy catastrophe by Nahum Tate. + +In the latter part of the reign of Charles the Second, Dryden and Otway +and Lee held the undisputed supremacy in the serious drama. + +Such was the insensibility of the English public to nature, and her high +priest, Shakespear. The only one of their productions that has survived +upon the theatre, is Venice Preserved: and why it has done so it is +difficult to say; or rather it would be impossible to assign a just and +honourable reason for it. All the personages in this piece are of an +abandoned and profligate character. Pierre is a man resolved to destroy +and root up the republic by which he was employed, because his mistress, +a courtesan, is mercenary, and endures the amorous visits of an +impotent old lecher. Jaffier, without even the profession of any public +principle, joins in the conspiracy, because he has been accustomed +to luxury and prodigal expence and is poor. He has however no sooner +entered into the plot, than he betrays it, and turns informer to the +government against his associates. Belvidera instigates him to this +treachery, because she cannot bear the thought of having her father +murdered, and is absurd enough to imagine that she and her husband shall +be tender and happy lovers ever after. Their love in the latter acts of +the play is a continued tirade of bombast and sounding nonsense, without +one real sentiment, one just reflection, or one strong emotion working +from the heart, and analysing the nature of man. The folly of this love +can only be exceeded, by the abject and despicable crouching and fawning +of Jaffier to the man he had so basely betrayed, and their subsequent +reconciliation. There is not a production in the whole realms of +fiction, that has less pretension to manly, or even endurable feeling, +or to common propriety. The total defect of a moral sense in this piece +is strongly characteristic of the reign in which it was written. It has +in the mean while a richness of melody, and a picturesqueness of action, +that enables it to delude, and that even draws tears from the eyes +of, persons who can be won over by the eye and the ear, with almost +no participation of the understanding. And this unmeaning rant and +senseless declamation sufficed for the time to throw into shade those +exquisite delineations of character, those transcendent bursts of +passion, and that perfect anatomy of the human heart, which render the +master-pieces of Shakespear a property for all nations and all times. + +While Shakespear was partly forgotten, it continued to be totally +unknown that he had contemporaries as inexpressibly superior to the +dramatic writers that have appeared since, as these contemporaries were +themselves below the almighty master of scenic composition. It was the +fashion to say, that Shakespear existed alone in a barbarous age, and +that all his imputed crudities, and intermixture of what was noblest +with unparalleled absurdity and buffoonery, were to be allowed for to +him on that consideration. + +Cowley stands forward as a memorable instance of the inconstancy of +fame. He was a most amiable man; and the loveliness of his mind shines +out in his productions. He had a truly poetic frame of soul; and he +pours out the beautiful feelings that possessed him unreservedly and +at large. He was a great sufferer in the Stuart cause, he had been a +principal member of the court of the exiled queen; and, when the king +was restored, it was a deep sentiment among his followers and friends +to admire the verses of Cowley. He was "the Poet." The royalist rhymers +were set lightly by in comparison with him. Milton, the republican, who, +by his collection published during the civil war, had shewn that he was +entitled to the highest eminence, was unanimously consigned to oblivion. +Cowley died in 1667; and the duke of Buckingham, the author of the +Rehearsal, eight years after, set up his tomb in the cemetery of the +nation, with an inscription, declaring him to be at once "the Pindar, +the Horace and Virgil of his country, the delight and the glory of +his age, which by his death was left a perpetual mourner."--Yet--so +capricious is fame--a century has nearly elapsed, since Pope said, + + Who now reads Cowley? If he pleases yet, + His moral pleases, not his pointed wit; + Forgot his epic, nay, Pindaric art, + But still I love the language of his heart. + +As Cowley was the great royalist poet after the Restoration, Cleveland +stood in the same rank during the civil war. In the publication of his +works one edition succeeded to another, yearly or oftener, for more than +twenty years. His satire is eminently poignant; he is of a strength and +energy of thinking uncommonly masculine; and he compresses his meaning +so as to give it every advantage. His imagination is full of coruscation +and brilliancy. His petition to Cromwel, lord protector of England, when +the poet was under confinement for his loyal principles, is a singular +example of manly firmness, great independence of mind, and a happy +choice of topics to awaken feelings of forbearance and clemency. It is +unnecessary to say that Cleveland is now unknown, except to such as feel +themselves impelled to search into things forgotten. + +It would be endless to adduce all the examples that might be found of +the caprices of fame. It has been one of the arts of the envious to set +up a contemptible rival to eclipse the splendour of sterling merit. Thus +Crowne and Settle for a time disturbed the serenity of Dryden. Voltaire +says, the Phaedra of Pradon has not less passion than that of Racine, +but expressed in rugged verse and barbarous language. Pradon is now +forgotten: and the whole French poetry of the Augustan age of Louis the +Fourteenth is threatened with the same fate. Hayley for a few years was +applauded as the genuine successor of Pope; and the poem of Sympathy +by Pratt went through twelve editions. For a brief period almost each +successive age appears fraught with resplendent genius; but they go out +one after another; they set, "like stars that fall, to rise no more." +Few indeed are endowed with that strength of construction, that should +enable them to ride triumphant on the tide of ages. + +It is the same with conquerors. What tremendous battles have been +fought, what oceans of blood have been spilled, by men who were resolved +that their achievements should be remembered for ever! And now even +their names are scarcely preserved; and the very effects of the +disasters they inflicted on mankind seem to be swept away, as of no more +validity than things that never existed. Warriors and poets, the authors +of systems and the lights of philosophy, men that astonished the earth, +and were looked up to as Gods, even like an actor on the stage, have +strutted their hour, and then been heard of no more. + +Books have the advantage of all other productions of the human head or +hand. Copies of them may be multiplied for ever, the last as good as +the first, except so far as some slight inadvertent errors may have +insinuated themselves. The Iliad flourishes as green now, as on the +day that Pisistratus is said first to have stamped upon it its present +order. The songs of the Rhapsodists, the Scalds, and the Minstrels, +which once seemed as fugitive as the breath of him who chaunted them, +repose in libraries, and are embalmed in collections. The sportive +sallies of eminent wits, and the Table Talk of Luther and Selden, may +live as long as there shall be men to read, and judges to appreciate +them. + +But other human productions have their date. Pictures, however +admirable, will only last as long as the colours of which they are +composed, and the substance on which they are painted. Three or four +hundred years ordinarily limit the existence of the most favoured. We +have scarcely any paintings of the ancients, and but a small portion of +their statues, while of these a great part are mutilated, and various +members supplied by later and inferior artists. The library of Bufo is +by Pope described, + + where busts of poets dead, + And a true Pindar stood without a head. + +Monumental records, alike the slightest and the most solid, are +subjected to the destructive operation of time, or to the being removed +at the caprice or convenience of successive generations. The pyramids +of Egypt remain, but the names of him who founded them, and of him +whose memory they seemed destined to perpetuate, have perished together. +Buildings for the use or habitation of man do not last for ever. Mighty +cities, as well as detached edifices, are destined to disappear. Thebes, +and Troy, and Persepolis, and Palmyra have vanished from the face of the +earth. + +"Thorns and brambles have grown up in their palaces: they are +habitations for serpents, and a court for the owl." + +There are productions of man however that seem more durable than any +of the edifices he has raised. Such are, in the first place, modes of +government. The constitution of Sparta lasted for seven hundred years. +That of Rome for about the same period. Institutions, once deeply +rooted in the habits of a people, will operate in their effects through +successive revolutions. Modes of faith will sometimes be still more +permanent. Not to mention the systems of Moses and Christ, which we +consider as delivered to us by divine inspiration, that of Mahomet +has continued for twelve hundred years, and may last, for aught that +appears, twelve hundred more. The practices of the empire of China are +celebrated all over the earth for their immutability. + +This brings us naturally to reflect upon the durability of the sciences. +According to Bailly, the observation of the heavens, and a calculation +of the revolutions of the heavenly bodies, in other words, astronomy, +subsisted in maturity in China and the East, for at least three thousand +years before the birth of Christ: and, such as it was then, it bids fair +to last as long as civilisation shall continue. The additions it has +acquired of late years may fall away and perish, but the substance shall +remain. The circulation of the blood in man and other animals, is a +discovery that shall never be antiquated. And the same may be averred +of the fundamental elements of geometry and of some other sciences. +Knowledge, in its most considerable branches shall endure, as long as +books shall exist to hand it down to successive generations. + +It is just therefore, that we should regard with admiration and awe the +nature of man, by whom these mighty things have been accomplished, at +the same time that the perishable quality of its individual monuments, +and the temporary character and inconstancy of that fame which in many +instances has filled the whole earth with its renown, may reasonably +quell the fumes of an inordinate vanity, and keep alive in us the +sentiment of a wholsome diffidence and humility. + + + + +ESSAY V. OF THE REBELLIOUSNESS OF MAN. + +There is a particular characteristic in the nature of the human mind, +which is somewhat difficult to be explained. + +Man is a being of a rational and an irrational nature. + +It has often been said that we have two souls. Araspes, in the +Cyropedia, adopts this language to explain his inconsistency, and +desertion of principle and honour. The two souls of man, according to +this hypothesis, are, first, animal, and, secondly, intellectual. + +But I am not going into any thing of this slight and every-day +character. + +Man is a rational being. It is by this particular that he is eminently +distinguished from the brute creation. He collects premises and deduces +conclusions. He enters into systems of thinking, and combines systems of +action, which he pursues from day to day, and from year to year. It is +by this feature in his constitution that he becomes emphatically the +subject of history, of poetry and fiction. It is by this that he is +raised above the other inhabitants of the globe of earth, and that the +individuals of our race are made the partners of "gods, and men like +gods." + +But our nature, beside this, has another section. We start occasionally +ten thousand miles awry. We resign the sceptre of reason, and the high +dignity that belongs to us as beings of a superior species; and, without +authority derived to us from any system of thinking, even without the +scheme of gratifying any vehement and uncontrolable passion, we are +impelled to do, or at least feel ourselves excited to do, something +disordinate and strange. It seems as if we had a spring within us, that +found the perpetual restraint of being wise and sober insupportable. +We long to be something, or to do something, sudden and unexpected, +to throw the furniture of our apartment out at window, or, when we are +leaving a place of worship, in which perhaps the most solemn feelings +of our nature have been excited, to push the grave person that is +just before us, from the top of the stairs to the bottom. A thousand +absurdities, wild and extravagant vagaries, come into our heads, and we +are only restrained from perpetrating them by the fear, that we may be +subjected to the treatment appropriated to the insane, or may perhaps be +made amenable to the criminal laws of our country. + +A story occurs to me, which I learned from the late Dr. Parr at Hatton, +that may not unhappily illustrate the point I am endeavouring to +explain. + +Dr. Samuel Clarke, rector of St. James's, Westminster, the especial +friend of Sir Isaac Newton, the distinguished editor of the poems of +Homer, and author of the Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of +God, was one day summoned from his study, to receive two visitors in +the parlour. When he came downstairs, and entered the room, he saw +a foreigner, who by his air seemed to be a person of distinction, a +professor perhaps of some university on the continent; and an alderman +of London, a relation of the doctor, who had come to introduce the +foreigner. The alderman, a man of uncultivated mind and manners, and +whom the doctor had been accustomed to see in sordid attire, surrounded +with the incumbrances of his trade, was decked out for the occasion in a +full-dress suit, with a wig of majestic and voluminous structure. Clarke +was, as it appears, so much struck with the whimsical nature of this +unexpected metamorphosis, and the extraordinary solemnity of his +kinsman's demeanour, as to have felt impelled, almost immediately upon +entering the room, to snatch the wig from the alderman's head, and throw +it against the ceiling: after which this eminent person immediately +escaped, and retired to his own apartment. I was informed from the same +authority, that Clarke, after exhausting his intellectual faculties by +long and intense study, would not unfrequently quit his seat, leap upon +the table, and place himself cross-legged like a tailor, being prompted, +by these antagonist sallies, to relieve himself from the effect of the +too severe strain he had previously put upon his intellectual powers. + +But the deviousness and aberration of our human faculties frequently +amount to something considerably more serious than this. + +I will put a case. + +I will suppose myself and another human being together, in some spot +secure from the intrusion of spectators. A musket is conveniently at +hand. It is already loaded. I say to my companion, "I will place myself +before you; I will stand motionless: take up that musket, and shoot me +through the heart." I want to know what passes in the mind of the man to +whom these words are addressed. + +I say, that one of the thoughts that will occur to many of the persons +who should be so invited, will be, "Shall I take him at his word?" + +There are two things that restrain us from acts of violence and crime. +The first is, the laws of morality. The second is, the construction that +will be put upon our actions by our fellow-creatures, and the treatment +we shall receive from them.--I put out of the question here any +particular value I may entertain for my challenger, or any degree of +friendship and attachment I may feel for him. + +The laws of morality (setting aside the consideration of any documents +of religion or otherwise I may have imbibed from my parents and +instructors) are matured within us by experience. In proportion as I am +rendered familiar with my fellow-creatures, or with society at large, I +come to feel the ties which bind men to each other, and the wisdom +and necessity of governing my conduct by inexorable rules. We are thus +further and further removed from unexpected sallies of the mind, and the +danger of suddenly starting away into acts not previously reflected on +and considered. + +With respect to the censure and retaliation of other men on my +proceeding, these, by the terms of my supposition, are left out of the +question. + +It may be taken for granted, that no man but a madman, would in the +case I have stated take the challenger at his word. But what I want to +ascertain is, why the bare thought of doing so takes a momentary hold of +the mind of the person addressed? + +There are three principles in the nature of man which contribute to +account for this. + +First, the love of novelty. + +Secondly, the love of enterprise and adventure. I become insupportably +wearied with the repetition of rotatory acts and every-day occurrences. +I want to be alive, to be something more than I commonly am, to change +the scene, to cut the cable that binds my bark to the shore, to launch +into the wide sea of possibilities, and to nourish my thoughts with +observing a train of unforeseen consequences as they arise. + +A third principle, which discovers itself in early childhood, and which +never entirely quits us, is the love of power. We wish to be assured +that we are something, and that we can produce notable effects upon +other beings out of ourselves. It is this principle, which instigates +a child to destroy his playthings, and to torment and kill the animals +around him. + +But, even independently of the laws of morality, and the fear of censure +and retaliation from our fellow-creatures, there are other things which +would obviously restrain us from taking the challenger in the above +supposition at his word. + +If man were an omnipotent being, and at the same time retained all +his present mental infirmities, it would be difficult to say of what +extravagances he would be guilty. It is proverbially affirmed that power +has a tendency to corrupt the best dispositions. Then what would not +omnipotence effect? + +If, when I put an end to the life of a fellow-creature, all vestiges of +what I had done were to disappear, this would take off a great part of +the control upon my actions which at present subsists. But, as it is, +there are many consequences that "give us pause." I do not like to see +his blood streaming on the ground. I do not like to witness the spasms +and convulsions of a dying man. Though wounded to the heart, he may +speak. Then what may be chance to say? What looks of reproach may he +cast upon me? The musket may miss fire. If I wound him, the wound may be +less mortal than I contemplated. Then what may I not have to fear? His +dead body will be an incumbrance to me. It must be moved from the place +where it lies. It must be buried. How is all this to be done by me? By +one precipitate act, I have involved myself in a long train of loathsome +and heart-sickening consequences. + +If it should be said, that no one but a person of an abandoned character +would fail, when the scene was actually before him, to feel an instant +repugnance to the proposition, yet it will perhaps be admitted, that +almost every reader, when he regards it as a supposition merely, says to +himself for a moment, "Would I? Could I?" + +But, to bring the irrationality of man more completely to the test, +let us change the supposition. Let us imagine him to be gifted with the +powers of the fabled basilisk, "to monarchise, be feared, and kill with +looks." His present impulses, his passions, his modes of reasoning +and choosing shall continue; but his "will is neighboured to his act;" +whatever he has formed a conception of with preference, is immediately +realised; his thought is succeeded by the effect; and no traces are +left behind, by means of which a shadow of censure or suspicion can be +reflected on him. + +Man is in truth a miracle. The human mind is a creature of celestial +origin, shut up and confined in a wall of flesh. We feel a kind of +proud impatience of the degradation to which we are condemned. We beat +ourselves to pieces against the wires of our cage, and long to escape, +to shoot through the elements, and be as free to change at any instant +the place where we dwell, as to change the subject to which our thoughts +are applied. + +This, or something like this, seems to be the source of our most +portentous follies and absurdities. This is the original sin upon which +St. Austin and Calvin descanted. Certain Arabic writers seem to have had +this in their minds, when they tell us, that there is a black drop +of blood in the heart of every man, in which is contained the fomes +peccati, and add that, when Mahomet was in the fourth year of his age, +the angel Gabriel caught him up from among his playfellows, and taking +his heart from his bosom, squeezed out of it this first principle of +frailty, in consequence of which he for ever after remained inaccessible +to the weaknesses of other men(6). + + + (6) Life of Mahomet, by Prideaux. + + +It is the observation of sir Thomas Browne: "Man is a noble animal, +splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave." One of the most remarkable +examples of this is to be found in the pyramids of Egypt. They are +generally considered as having been erected to be the tombs of the kings +of that country. They have no opening by which for the light of heaven +to enter, and afford no means for the accommodation of living man. An +hundred thousand men are said to have been constantly employed in the +building; ten years to have been consumed in hewing and conveying the +stones, and twenty more in completing the edifice. Of the largest the +base is a square, and the sides are triangles, gradually diminishing as +they mount in the air. The sides of the base are two hundred and twenty +feet in length, and the perpendicular height is above one hundred and +fifty-five feet. The figure of the pyramid is precisely that which is +most calculated for duration: it cannot perish by accident; and it would +require almost as much labour to demolish it, as it did to raise it at +first. + +What a light does this fact convey into the inmost recesses of the human +heart! Man reflects deeply, and with feelings of a mortified nature, +upon the perishableness of his frame, and the approaching close, so far +as depends upon the evidence of our senses, of his existence. He has +indeed an irrepressible "longing after immortality;" and this is one of +the various and striking modes in which he has sought to give effect to +his desire. + +Various obvious causes might be selected, which should be calculated to +give birth to the feeling of discontent. + +One is, the not being at home. + +I will here put together some of the particulars which make up the idea +of home in the most emphatical sense of the word. + +Home is the place where a man is principally at his ease. It is the +place where he most breathes his native air: his lungs play without +impediment; and every respiration brings a pure element, and a +cheerful and gay frame of mind. Home is the place where he most easily +accomplishes all his designs; he has his furniture and materials and the +elements of his occupations entirely within his reach. Home is the place +where he can be uninterrupted. He is in a castle which is his in full +propriety. No unwelcome guests can intrude; no harsh sounds can disturb +his contemplations; he is the master, and can command a silence equal to +that of the tomb, whenever he pleases. + +In this sense every man feels, while cribbed in a cabin of flesh, +and shut up by the capricious and arbitrary injunctions of human +communities, that he is not at home. + +Another cause of our discontent is to be traced to the disparity of the +two parts of which we are composed, the thinking principle, and the body +in which it acts. The machine which constitutes the visible man, bears +no proportion to our thoughts, our wishes and desires. Hence we are +never satisfied; we always feel the want of something we have not; and +this uneasiness is continually pushing us on to precipitate and abortive +resolves. + +I find in a book, entitled, Illustrations of Phrenology, by Sir George +Mackenzie, Baronet, the following remark. 'If this portrait be correctly +drawn, the right side does not quite agree with the left in the +region of ideality. This dissimilarity may have produced something +contradictory in the feelings of the person it represents, which he may +have felt extremely annoying(7).' An observation of this sort may be +urged with striking propriety as to the dissimilar attributes of the +body and the thinking principle in man. + + + + (7) The remark thus delivered is applied to the portrait of the author +of the present volume. + + +It is perhaps thus that we are to account for a phenomenon, in itself +sufficiently obvious, that our nature has within it a principle of +boundless ambition, a desire to be something that we are not, a feeling +that we are out of our place, and ought to be where we are not. This +feeling produces in us quick and earnest sallies and goings forth of the +mind, a restlessness of soul, and an aspiration after some object that +we do not find ourselves able to chalk out and define. + +Hence comes the practice of castle-building, and of engaging the soul in +endless reveries and imaginations of something mysterious and unlike +to what we behold in the scenes of sublunary life. Many writers, having +remarked this, have endeavoured to explain it from the doctrine of +a preexistent state, and have said that, though we have no clear and +distinct recollection of what happened to us previously to our being +launched in our present condition, yet we have certain broken and +imperfect conceptions, as if, when the tablet of the memory was cleared +for the most part of the traces of what we had passed through in some +other mode of being, there were a few characters that had escaped the +diligence of the hand by which the rest had been obliterated. + +It is this that, in less enlightened ages of the world, led men to +engage so much of their thoughts upon supposed existences, which, +though they might never become subject to our organs of vision, were yet +conceived to be perpetually near us, fairies, ghosts, witches, demons +and angels. Our ancestors often derived suggestions from these, were +informed of things beyond the ken of ordinary faculties, were tempted to +the commission of forbidden acts, or encouraged to proceed in the paths +of virtue. + +The most remarkable of these phenomena was that of necromancy, sorcery +and magic. There were men who devoted themselves to "curious arts," and +had books fraught with hidden knowledge. They could "bedim" + + + The noon-tide sun, call forth the mutinous winds, + And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault + Set roaring war: to the dread, rattling thunder + They could give fire, and rift even Jove's stout oak + With his own bolt--graves at their command + Have waked their sleepers, oped and let them forth. + + +And of these things the actors in them were so certain, that many +witches were led to the stake, their guilt being principally established +on their own confessions. But the most memorable matters in the history +of the black art, were the contracts which those who practised it not +unfrequently entered into with the devil, that he should assist them by +his supernatural power for ten or twenty years, and, in consideration of +this aid, they consented to resign their souls into his possession, when +the period of the contract was expired. + +In the animal creation there are some species that may be tamed, and +others whose wildness is irreclaimable. Horace says, that all men are +mad: and no doubt mankind in general has one of the features of madness. +In the ordinary current of our existence we are to a considerable degree +rational and tractable. But we are not altogether safe. I may converse +with a maniac for hours; he shall talk as soberly, and conduct himself +with as much propriety, as any other of the species who has never been +afflicted with his disease; but touch upon a particular string, and, +before you are aware of it, he shall fly out into the wildest and most +terrifying extravagances. Such, though in a greatly inferior degree, are +the majority of human beings. + +The original impulse of man is uncontrolableness. When the spirit of +life first descends upon us, we desire and attempt to be as free as air. +We are impatient of restraint. This is the period of the empire of will. +There is a power within us that wars against the restraint of another. +We are eager to follow our own impulses and caprices, and are with +difficulty subjected to those who believe they best know how to control +inexperienced youth in a way that shall tend to his ultimate advantage. + +The most moderate and auspicious method in which the old may endeavour +to guide and control the pursuits of the young, undoubtedly is by the +conviction of the understanding. But this is not always easy. It is not +at all times practicable fully to explain to the apprehension of a very +young person the advantage, which at a period a little more advanced he +would be able clearly to recognise. + +There is a further evil appertaining to this view of the subject. + +A young man even, in the early season of life, is not always disposed to +obey the convictions of his understanding. He has prescribed to himself +a task which returns with the returning day; but he is often not +disposed to apply. The very sense that it is what he conceives to be an +incumbent duty, inspires him with reluctance. + +An obvious source of this reluctance is, that the convictions of our +understanding are not always equally present to us. I have entered into +a deduction of premises, and arrived at a conclusion; but some of the +steps of the chain are scarcely obvious to me, at the time that I am +called upon to act upon the conclusion I have drawn. Beside which, +there was a freshness in the first conception of the reasons on which +my conduct was to be framed, which, by successive rehearsals, and +by process of time, is no longer in any degree spirit-stirring and +pregnant. + +This restiveness and impracticability are principally incident to us in +the period of youth. By degrees the novelties of life wear out, and we +become sober. We are like soldiers at drill, and in a review. At first +we perform our exercise from necessity, and with an ill grace. We had +rather be doing almost any thing else. + +By degrees we are reconciled to our occupation. We are like horses in a +manege, or oxen or dogs taught to draw the plough, or be harnessed to a +carriage. Our stubbornness is subdued; we no longer exhaust our strength +in vain efforts to free ourselves from the yoke. + +Conviction at first is strong. Having arrived at years of discretion, +I revolve with a sobered mind the different occupations to which my +efforts and my time may be devoted, and determine at length upon +that which under all the circumstances displays the most cogent +recommendations. Having done so, I rouse my faculties and direct my +energies to the performance of my task. By degrees however my resolution +grows less vigorous, and my exertions relax. I accept any pretence to be +let off, and fly into a thousand episodes and eccentricities. + +But, as the newness of life subsides, the power of temptation becomes +less. That conviction, which was at first strong, and gradually became +fainter and less impressive, is made by incessant repetitions a part +of my nature. I no more think of doubting its truth, than of my own +existence. Practice has rendered the pursuits that engage me more easy, +till at length I grow disturbed and uncomfortable if I am withheld from +them. They are like my daily bread. If they are not afforded me, I grow +sick and attenuated, and my life verges to a close. The sun is not surer +to rise, than I am to feel the want of my stated employment. + +It is the business of education to tame the wild ass, the restive and +rebellious principle, in our nature. The judicious parent or instructor +essays a thousand methods to accomplish his end. The considerate elder +tempts the child with inticements and caresses, that he may win his +attention to the first rudiments of learning. + +He sets before him, as he grows older, all the considerations +and reasons he can devise, to make him apprehend the advantage of +improvement and literature. He does his utmost to make his progress +easy, and to remove all impediments. He smooths the path by which he +is to proceed, and endeavours to root out all its thorns. He exerts his +eloquence to inspire his pupil with a love for the studies in which he +is engaged. He opens to him the beauties and genius of the authors he +reads, and endeavours to proceed with him hand in hand, and step by +step. He persuades, he exhorts, and occasionally he reproves. He awakens +in him the love of excellence, the fear of disgrace, and an ambition to +accomplish that which "the excellent of the earth" accomplished before +him. + +At a certain period the young man is delivered into his own hands, +and becomes an instructor to himself. And, if he is blessed with an +ingenuous disposition, he will enter on his task with an earnest desire +and a devoted spirit. No person of a sober and enlarged mind can for a +moment delude himself into the opinion that, when he is delivered into +his own hands, his education is ended. In a sense to which no one is +a stranger, the education of man and his life terminate together. We +should at no period of our existence be backward to receive information, +and should at all times preserve our minds open to conviction. We +should through every day of our lives seek to add to the stores of our +knowledge and refinement. But, independently of this more extended sense +of the word, a great portion of the education of the young man is left +to the direction of the man himself. The epoch of entire liberty is a +dangerous period, and calls upon him for all his discretion, that he +may not make an ill use of that, which is in itself perhaps the first of +sublunary blessings. The season of puberty also, and all the excitements +from this source, "that flesh is heir to," demand the utmost vigilance +and the strictest restraint. In a word, if we would counteract the +innate rebelliousness of man, that indocility of mind which is at all +times at hand to plunge us into folly, we must never slumber at our +post, but govern ourselves with steady severity, and by the dictates +of an enlightened understanding. We must be like a skilful pilot in a +perilous sea, and be thoroughly aware of all the rocks and quicksands, +and the multiplied and hourly dangers that beset our navigation. + +In this Essay I have treated of nothing more than the inherent +restiveness and indocility of man, which accompany him at least through +all the earlier sections and divisions of his life. I have not treated +of those temptations calculated to lead him into a thousand excesses and +miseries, which originate in our lower nature, and are connected with +what we call the passion of love. Nor have I entered upon the still +more copious chapter, of the incentives and provocations which are +administered to us by those wants which at all times beset us as living +creatures, and by the unequal distribution of property generally in +civil society. I have not considered those attributes of man which may +serve indifferently for good or for ill, as he may happen to be or not +to be the subject of those fiercer excitements, that will oft times +corrupt the most ingenuous nature, and have a tendency to inspire into +us subtle schemes and a deep contrivance. I have confined myself to +the consideration of man, as yet untamed to the modes of civilised +community, and unbroken to the steps which are not only prescribed by +the interests of our social existence, but which are even in some degree +indispensible to the improvement and welfare of the individual. I have +considered him, not as he is often acted upon by causes and motives +which seem almost to compel him to vice, but merely as he is restless, +and impatient, and disdainful both of the control of others, and the +shackles of system. + +For the same reason I have not taken notice of another species of +irrationality, and which seems to answer more exactly to the Arabic +notion of the fomes peccati, the black drop of blood at the bottom of +the heart. We act from motives apprehended by the judgment; but we do +not stop at them. Once set in motion, it will not seldom happen that we +proceed beyond our original mark. We are like Othello in the play: + + + Our blood begins our safer guides to rule; + And passion, having our best judgment quelled, + Assays to lead the way. + + +This is the explanation of the greatest enormities that have been +perpetrated by man, and the inhuman deeds of Nero and Caligula. We +proceed from bad to worse. The reins of our discretion drop from our +hands. It fortunately happens however, that we do not in the majority of +cases, like Phaeton in the fable, set the world on fire; but that, with +ordinary men, the fiercest excesses of passion extend to no greater +distance than can be reached by the sound of their voice. + + + + +ESSAY VI. OF HUMAN INNOCENCE. + +One of the most obvious views which are presented to us by man +in society is the inoffensiveness and innocence that ordinarily +characterise him. + +Society for the greater part carries on its own organization. Each man +pursues his proper occupation, and there are few individuals that feel +the propensity to interrupt the pursuits of their neighbours by personal +violence. When we observe the quiet manner in which the inhabitants of a +great city, and, in the country, the frequenters of the fields, the +high roads, and the heaths, pass along, each engrossed by his private +contemplations, feeling no disposition to molest the strangers he +encounters, but on the contrary prepared to afford them every courteous +assistance, we cannot in equity do less than admire the innocence of our +species, and fancy that, like the patriarchs of old, we have fallen in +with "angels unawares." + +There are a few men in every community, that are sons of riot and +plunder, and for the sake of these the satirical and censorious throw a +general slur and aspersion upon the whole species. + +When we look at human society with kind and complacent survey, we are +more than half tempted to imagine that men might subsist very well in +clusters and congregated bodies without the coercion of law; and in +truth criminal laws were only made to prevent the ill-disposed few +from interrupting the regular and inoffensive proceedings of the vast +majority. + +From what disposition in human nature is it that all this accommodation +and concurrence proceed? + +It is not primarily love. We feel in a very slight degree excited to +good will towards the stranger whom we accidentally light upon in our +path. + +Neither is it fear. + +It is principally forecast and prudence. We have a sensitiveness, that +forbids us for a slight cause to expose ourselves to we know not what. +We are unwilling to be disturbed. + +We have a mental vis inertiae, analogous to that quality in material +substances, by means of which, being at rest, they resist being put into +a state of motion. We love our security; we love our respectability; +and both of these may be put to hazard by our rashly and unadvisedly +thrusting ourselves upon the course of another. We like to act for +ourselves. We like to act with others, when we think we can foresee the +way in which the proposed transaction will proceed, and that it will +proceed to our wish. + +Let us put the case, that I am passing along the highway, destitute and +pennyless, and without foresight of any means by which I am to procure +the next meal that my nature requires. + +The vagrant, who revolves in his mind the thought of extorting from +another the supply of which he is urgently in need, surveys the person +upon whom he meditates this violence with a scrutinising eye. He +considers, Will this man submit to my summons without resistance, or in +what manner will he repel my trespass? He watches his eye, he measures +his limbs, his strength, and his agility. Though they have met in the +deserts of Africa, where there is no law to punish the violator, he +knows that he exposes himself to a fearful hazard; and he enters upon +his purpose with desperate resolve. All this and more must occur to the +man of violence, within the pale of a civilised community. + +Begging is the mildest form in which a man can obtain from the stranger +he meets, the means of supplying his urgent necessities. + +But, even here, the beggar knows that he exposes himself not only to +refusal, but to the harsh and opprobrious terms in which that refusal +may be conveyed. In this city there are laws against begging; and +the man that asks alms of me, is an offender against the state. In +country-towns it is usual to remark a notice upon entering, to say, +Whoever shall be found begging in this place, shall be set in the +stocks. + +There are modes however in which I may accost a stranger, with small +apprehension that I shall be made to repent of it. I may enquire of him +my way to the place towards which my business or my pleasure invites me. +Ennius of old has observed, that lumen de lumine, to light my candle +at my neighbour's lamp, is one of the privileges that the practices of +civil society concede. + +But it is not merely from forecast and prudence that we refrain from +interrupting the stranger in his way. We have all of us a certain degree +of kindness for a being of our own species. A multitude of men feel this +kindness for every thing that has animal life. We would not willingly +molest the stranger who has done us no injury. On the contrary we would +all of us to a certain extent assist him, under any unforeseen casualty +and tribulation. A part therefore of the innocence that characterises +our species is to be attributed to philanthropy. + +Childhood is diffident. Children for the most part are averse to the +addressing themselves to strangers, unless in cases where, from the mere +want of anticipation and reflection, they proceed as if they were wholly +without the faculty of making calculations and deducing conclusions. The +child neither knows himself nor the stranger he meets in his path. He +has not measured either the one or the other. He does not know what the +stranger may be able, or may likely be prompted to do to him, nor what +are his own means of defence or escape. He takes refuge therefore in a +wary, sometimes an obstinate silence. It is for this reason that a boy +at school often appears duller and more inept, than would be the amount +of a fair proportion to what he is found to be when grown up to a man. + +As we improve in judgment and strength, we know better ourselves and +others, and in a majority of instances take our due place in the ranks +of society. We acquire a modest and cautious firmness, yield what +belongs to another, and assert what is due to ourselves. To the last +however, we for the most part retain the inoffensiveness described in +the beginning of this Essay. + +How comes it then that our nature labours under so bitter an aspersion? +We have been described as cunning, malicious and treacherous. Other +animals herd together for mutual convenience; and their intercourse with +their species is for the most part a reciprocation of social feeling +and kindness. But community among men, we are told, is that condition of +human existence, which brings out all our evil qualities to the face +of day. We lie in wait for, and circumvent each other by multiplied +artifices. We cannot depend upon each other for the truth of what is +stated to us; and promises and the most solemn engagements often seem +as if they were made only to mislead. We are violent and deadly in our +animosities, easily worked up to ferocity, and satisfied with scarcely +any thing short of mutilation and blood. We are revengeful: we lay up an +injury, real or imaginary, in the store-house of an undecaying memory, +waiting only till we can repay the evil we have sustained tenfold, at a +time when our adversary shall be lulled in unsuspecting security. We +are rapacious, with no symptom that the appetite for gain within us will +ever be appeased; and we practise a thousand deceits, that it may be +the sooner, and to the greater degree glutted. The ambition of man is +unbounded; and he hesitates at no means in the course it prompts him to +pursue. In short, man is to man ever the most fearful and dangerous foe: +and it is in this view of his nature that the king of Brobdingnag says +to Gulliver, "I cannot but conclude the bulk of your race to be the most +pernicious generation of little, odious vermin, that were ever suffered +to crawl upon the surface of the earth." The comprehensive faculties of +man therefore, and the refinements and subtlety of his intellect, serve +only to render him the more formidable companion, and to hold us up as a +species to merited condemnation. + +It is obvious however that the picture thus drawn is greatly +overcharged, that it describes a very small part of our race, and that +even as to them it sets before us a few features only, and a partial +representation. + +History--the successive scenes of the drama in which individuals play +their part--is a labyrinth, of which no man has as yet exactly seized +the clue. + +It has long since been observed, that the history of the four great +monarchies, of tyrannies and free states, of chivalry and clanship, of +Mahometanism and the Christian church, of the balance of Europe and +the revolution of empires, is little else than a tissue of crimes, +exhibiting nations as if they were so many herds of ferocious animals, +whose genuine occupation was to tear each other to pieces, and to deform +their mother-earth with mangled carcases and seas of blood. + +But it is not just that we should establish our opinion of human nature +purely from the records of history. Man is alternately devoted to +tranquillity and to violence. But the latter only affords the proper +materials of narration. When he is wrought upon by some powerful +impulse, our curiosity is most roused to observe him. We remark his +emotions, his energies, his tempest. It is then that he becomes the +person of a drama. And, where this disquietude is not the affair of a +single individual, but of several persons together, of nations, it is +there that history finds her harvest. She goes into the field with all +the implements of her industry, and fills her storehouses and magazines +with the abundance of her crop. But times of tranquillity and peace +furnish her with no materials. They are dismissed in a few slight +sentences, and leave no memory behind. + +Let us divide this spacious earth into equal compartments, and see in +which violence, and in which tranquillity prevails. Let us look through +the various ranks and occupations of human society, and endeavour to +arrive at a conclusion of a similar sort. The soldier by occupation, +and the officer who commands him, would seem, when they are employed +in their express functions, to be men of strife. Kings and ministers of +state have in a multitude of instances fallen under this description. +Conquerors, the firebrands of the earth, have sufficiently displayed +their noxious propensities. + +But these are but a small part of the tenantry of the many-peopled +globe. Man lives by the sweat of his brow. The teeming earth is +given him, that by his labour he may raise from it the means of his +subsistence. Agriculture is, at least among civilised nations, the +first, and certainly the most indispensible of professions. The +profession itself is the emblem of peace. All its occupations, from +seed-time to harvest, are tranquil; and there is nothing which belongs +to it, that can obviously be applied to rouse the angry passions, and +place men in a frame of hostility to each other. Next to the cultivator, +come the manufacturer, the artificer, the carpenter, the mason, the +joiner, the cabinet-maker, all those numerous classes of persons, who +are employed in forming garments for us to wear, houses to live in, +and moveables and instruments for the accommodation of the species. All +these persons are, of necessity, of a peaceable demeanour. So are those +who are not employed in producing the conveniencies of life, but in +conducting the affairs of barter and exchange. Add to these, such as +are engaged in literature, either in the study of what has already been +produced, or in adding to the stock, in science or the liberal arts, +in the instructing mankind in religion and their duties, or in the +education of youth. "Civility," "civil," are indeed terms which express +a state of peaceable occupation, in opposition to what is military, and +imply a tranquil frame of mind, and the absence of contention, uproar +and violence. It is therefore clear, that the majority of mankind are +civil, devoted to the arts of peace, and so far as relates to acts of +violence innocent, and that the sons of rapine constitute the exception +to the general character. + +We come into the world under a hard and unpalatable law, "In the +sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread." It is a bitter decree that is +promulgated against us, "He that will not work, neither shall he eat." +We all of us love to do our own will, and to be free from the manacles +of restraint. What our hearts "find us to do," that we are disposed +to execute "with all our might." Some men are lovers of strenuous +occupation. They build and they plant; they raise splendid edifices, and +lay out pleasure-grounds of mighty extent. Or they devote their minds to +the acquisition of knowledge; they + + ----outwatch the bear, + With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere + The spirit of Plato, to unfold + What worlds, or what vast regions hold + The immortal mind. + +Others again would waste perhaps their whole lives in reverie and +idleness. They are constituted of materials so kindly and serene, +that their spirits never flag from want of occupation and external +excitement. They could lie for ever on a sunny bank, in a condition +divided between thinking and no thinking, refreshed by the fanning +breeze, viewing the undulations of the soil, and the rippling of the +brook, admiring the azure heavens, and the vast, the bold, and the +sublime figure of the clouds, yielding themselves occasionally to +"thick-coming fancies," and day-dreams, and the endless romances of an +undisciplined mind; + + And find no end, in wandering mazes lost. + +But all men, alike the busy of constitution and the idle, would desire +to follow the impulses of their own minds, unbroken in upon by harsh +necessity, or the imperious commands of their fellows. + +We cannot however, by the resistless law of our existence, live, except +the few who by the accident of their birth are privileged to draw +their supplies from the labour of others, without exerting ourselves to +procure by our efforts or ingenuity the necessaries of food, lodging and +attire. He that would obtain them for himself in an uninhabited island, +would find that this amounted to a severe tax upon that freedom of +motion and thought which would otherwise be his inheritance. And he who +has his lot cast in a populous community, exists in a condition somewhat +analogous to that of a negro slave, except that he may to a limited +extent select the occupation to which he shall addict himself, or may at +least starve, in part or in whole, uncontroled, and at his choice. Such +is, as it were, the universal lot. + + 'Tis destiny unshunnable like death: + Even then this dire necessity falls on us, + When we do quicken. + + +I go forth in the streets, and observe the occupations of other men. +I remark the shops that on every side beset my path. It is curious and +striking, how vast are the ingenuity and contrivance of human beings, to +wring from their fellow-creatures, "from the hard hands of peasants" +and artisans, a part of their earnings, that they also may live. We +soon become feelingly convinced, that we also must enter into the vast +procession of industry, upon pain that otherwise, + + Like to an entered tide, they all rush by, + And leave you hindmost: there you lie, + For pavement to the abject rear, o'errun + And trampled on. + + +It is through the effect of this necessity, that civilised communities +become what they are. We all fall into our ranks. Each one is member of +a certain company or squadron. We know our respective places, and are +marshaled and disciplined with an exactness scarcely less than that of +the individuals of a mighty army. We are therefore little disposed to +interrupt the occupations of each other. We are intent upon the peculiar +employment to which we have become devoted. We "rise up early, and lie +down late," and have no leisure to trouble ourselves with the pursuits +of others. Hence of necessity it happens in a civilised community, that +a vast majority of the species are innocent, and have no inclination to +molest or interrupt each other's avocations. + +But, as this condition of human society preserves us in comparative +innocence, and renders the social arrangement in the midst of which we +exist, to a certain degree a soothing and agreeable spectacle, so on the +other hand it is not less true that its immediate tendency is, to clip +the wings of the thinking principle within us, and plunge the members +of the community in which we live into a barren and ungratifying +mediocrity. Hence it should be the aim of those persons, who from +their situation have more or less the means of looking through the +vast assemblage of their countrymen, of penetrating "into the seeds" of +character, and determining "which grain will grow, and which will not," +to apply themselves to the redeeming such as are worthy of their care +from the oblivious gulph into which the mass of the species is of +necessity plunged. It is therefore an ill saying, when applied in the +most rigorous extent, "Let every man maintain himself, and be his own +provider: why should we help him?" + +The help however that we should afford to our fellow-men requires of +us great discernment in its administration. The deceitfulness of +appearances is endless. And nothing can well be at the same time more +lamentable and more ludicrous, than the spectacle of those persons, the +weaver, the thresher, and the mechanic, who by injudicious patronage +are drawn from their proper sphere, only to exhibit upon a larger stage +their imbecility and inanity, to shew those moderate powers, which in +their proper application would have carried their possessors through +life with respect, distorted into absurdity, and used in the attempt to +make us look upon a dwarf, as if he were one of the Titans who in the +commencement of recorded time astonished the earth. + +It is also true to a great degree, that those efforts of the human +mind are most healthful and vigorous, in which the possessor of talents +"administers to himself," and contends with the different obstacles that +arise, + + --------throwing them aside, + And stemming them with hearts of controversy. + + +Many illustrious examples however may be found in the annals of +literature, of patronage judiciously and generously applied, where +men have been raised by the kindness of others from the obscurest +situations, and placed on high, like beacons, to illuminate the world. +And, independently of all examples, a sound application of the common +sense of the human mind would teach us, that the worthies of the earth, +though miracles, are not omnipotent, and that a certain aid, from those +who by counsel or opulence are enabled to afford it, have oft times +produced the noblest effects, have carried on the generous impulse that +works within us, and prompted us manfully to proceed, when the weakness +of our nature was ready to give in from despair. + +But the thing that in this place it was most appropriate to say, is, +that we ought not quietly to affirm, of the man whose mind nature or +education has enriched with extraordinary powers, "Let him maintain +himself, and be his own provider: why should we help him?" It is a thing +deeply to be regretted, that such a man will frequently be compelled to +devote himself to pursuits comparatively vulgar and inglorious, because +he must live. Much of this is certainly inevitable. But what glorious +things might a man with extraordinary powers effect, were he not hurried +unnumbered miles awry by the unconquerable power of circumstances? The +life of such a man is divided between the things which his internal +monitor strongly prompts him to do, and those which the external power +of nature and circumstances compels him to submit to. The struggle on +the part of his better self is noble and admirable. The less he gives +way, provided he can accomplish the purpose to which he has vowed +himself, the more he is worthy of the admiration of the world. If, in +consequence of listening too much to the loftier aspirations of his +nature, he fails, it is deeply to be regretted--it is a man to a certain +degree lost--but surely, if his miscarriage be not caused by undue +presumption, or the clouds and unhealthful atmosphere of self-conceit, +he is entitled to the affectionate sympathy and sorrow of every generous +mind. + + + + +ESSAY VII. OF THE DURATION OF HUMAN LIFE. + +The active and industrious portion of the human species in civilised +countries, is composed of those who are occupied in the labour of the +hand, and in the labour of the head. + +The following remarks expressly apply only to the latter of these +classes, principally to such as are occupied in productive literature. +They may however have their use to all persons a considerable portion of +whose time is employed in study and contemplation, as, if well founded, +they will form no unimportant chapter in the science of the human mind. + +In relation to all the members of the second class then, I should say, +that human life is made up of term and vacation, in other words, of +hours that may be intellectually employed, and of hours that cannot be +so employed. + +Human life consists of years, months and days: each day contains +twenty-four hours. Of these hours how many belong to the province of +intellect? + +"There is," as Solomon says, "a time for all things." There must be a +time for sleep, a time for recreation, a time for exercise, a time for +supplying the machine with nourishment, and a time for digestion. When +all these demands have been supplied, how many hours will be left for +intellectual occupation? + +These remarks, as I have said, are intended principally to apply to the +subject of productive literature. Now, of the hours that remain when +all the necessary demands of human life have been supplied, it is but a +portion, perhaps a small portion, that can be beneficially, judiciously, +employed in productive literature, or literary composition. + +It is true, that there are many men who will occupy eight, ten, or +twelve hours in a day, in the labour of composition. But it may be +doubted whether they are wisely so occupied. + +It is the duty of an author, inasmuch as he is an author, to consider, +that he is to employ his pen in putting down that which shall be fit for +other men to read. He is not writing a letter of business, a letter +of amusement, or a letter of sentiment, to his private friend. He is +writing that which shall be perused by as many men as can be prevailed +on to become his readers. If he is an author of spirit and ambition, +he wishes his productions to be read, not only by the idle, but by the +busy, by those who cannot spare time to peruse them but at the expence +of some occupations which ought not to be suspended without an adequate +occasion. He wishes to be read not only by the frivolous and the +lounger, but by the wise, the elegant, and the fair, by those who are +qualified to appreciate the merit of a work, who are endowed with a +quick sensibility and a discriminating taste, and are able to pass a +sound judgment on its beauties and defects. He advances his claim +to permanent honours, and desires that his lucubrations should be +considered by generations yet unborn. + +A person, so occupied, and with such aims, must not attempt to pass +his crudities upon the public. If I may parody a celebrated aphorism +of Quintilian, I would say, "Magna debetur hominibus reverentia(8):" in +other words, we should carefully examine what it is that we propose +to deliver in a permanent form to the taste and understanding of our +species. An author ought only to commit to the press the first fruits of +his field, his best and choicest thoughts. He ought not to take up the +pen, till he has brought his mind into a fitting tone, and ought to lay +it down, the instant his intellect becomes in any degree clouded, and +his vital spirits abate of their elasticity. + + + (8) Mankind is to be considered with reverence. + + +There are extraordinary cases. A man may have so thoroughly prepared +himself by long meditation and study, he may have his mind so charged +with an abundance of thought, that it may employ him for ten or twelve +hours consecutively, merely to put down or to unravel the conceptions +already matured in his soul. It was in some such way, that Dryden, +we are told, occupied a whole night, and to a late hour in the next +morning, in penning his Alexander's Feast. But these are the exceptions. +In most instances two or three hours are as much as an author can spend +at a time in delivering the first fruits of his field, his choicest +thoughts, before his intellect becomes in some degree clouded, and his +vital spirits abate of their elasticity. + +Nor is this all. He might go on perhaps for some time longer with a +reasonable degree of clearness. But the fertility which ought to be his +boast, is exhausted. He no longer sports in the meadows of thought, +or revels in the exuberance of imagination, but becomes barren and +unsatisfactory. Repose is necessary, and that the soil should be +refreshed with the dews of another evening, the sleep of a night, and +the freshness and revivifying influence of another morning. + +These observations lead, by a natural transition, to the question of the +true estimate and value of human life, considered as the means of the +operations of intellect. + +A primary enquiry under this head is as to the duration of life: Is it +long, or short? + +The instant this question is proposed, I hear myself replied to from +all quarters: What is there so well known as the brevity of human life? +"Life is but a span." It is "as a tale that is told." "Man cometh +forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and +continueth not." We are "as a sleep; or as grass: in the morning +it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and +withereth." + +The foundation of this sentiment is obvious. Men do not live for ever. +The longest duration of human existence has an end: and whatever it is +of which that may be affirmed, may in some sense be pronounced to be +short. The estimation of our existence depends upon the point of +view from which we behold it. Hope is one of our greatest enjoyments. +Possession is something. But the past is as nothing. Remorse may give it +a certain solidity; the recollection of a life spent in acts of virtue +may be refreshing. But fruition, and honours, and fame, and even pain, +and privations, and torment, when they ere departed, are but like a +feather; we regard them as of no account. Taken in this sense, Dryden's +celebrated verses are but a maniac's rant: + + To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have lived to-day: + Be fair, or foul, or rain, or shine, + The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate are mine. + Not heaven itself upon the past has power, + But what has been has been, and I have had my hour. + + +But this way of removing the picture of human life to a certain distance +from us, and considering those things which were once in a high degree +interesting as frivolous and unworthy of regard, is not the way by which +we shall arrive at a true and just estimation of life. Whatever is now +past, and is of little value, was once present: and he who would form a +sound judgment, must look upon every part of our lives as present in its +turn, and not suffer his opinion to be warped by the consideration of +the nearness or remoteness of the object he contemplates. + +One sentence, which has grown into a maxim for ever repeated, is +remarkable for the grossest fallacy: Ars longa, vita brevis(9). I would +fain know, what art, compared with the natural duration of human life +from puberty to old age, is long. + + + (9) Art is long; life is short. + + +If it is intended to say, that no one man can be expected to master all +possible arts, or all arts that have at one time or another been the +subject of human industry, this indeed is true. But the cause of this +does not lie in the limited duration of human life, but in the nature of +the faculties of the mind. Human understanding and human industry cannot +embrace every thing. When we take hold of one thing, we must let go +another. Science and art, if we would pursue them to the furthest extent +of which we are capable, must be pursued without interruption. It would +therefore be more to the purpose to say, Man cannot be for ever +young. In the stream of human existence, different things have their +appropriate period. The knowledge of languages can perhaps be most +effectually acquired in the season of nonage. + +At riper years one man devotes himself to one science or art, and +another man to another. This man is a mathematician; a second studies +music; a third painting. This man is a logician; and that man an orator. +The same person cannot be expected to excel in the abstruseness of +metaphysical science, and in the ravishing effusions of poetical genius. +When a man, who has arrived at great excellence in one department of art +or science, would engage himself in another, he will be apt to find the +freshness of his mind gone, and his faculties no longer distinguished by +the same degree of tenacity and vigour that they formerly displayed. It +is with the organs of the brain, as it is with the organs of speech, +in the latter of which we find the tender fibres of the child easily +accommodating themselves to the minuter inflections and variations of +sound, which the more rigid muscles of the adult will for the most part +attempt in vain. + +If again, by the maxim, Ars longa, vita brevis, it is intended to +signify, that we cannot in any art arrive at perfection; that in reality +all the progress we can make is insignificant; and that, as St. Paul +says, we must "not count ourselves to have already attained; but that, +forgetting the things that are behind, it becomes us to press forward +to the prize of our calling,"--this also is true. But this is only +ascribable to the limitation of our faculties, and that even the shadow +of perfection which man is capable to reach, can only be attained by +the labour of successive generations. The cause does not lie in the +shortness of human life, unless we would include in its protracted +duration the privilege of being for ever young; to which we ought +perhaps to add, that our activity should never be exhausted, the +freshness of our minds never abate, and our faculties for ever retain +the same degree of tenacity and vigour, as they had in the morning of +life, when every thing was new, when all that allured or delighted us +was seen accompanied with charms inexpressible, and, as Dryden expresses +it(10), "the first sprightly running" of the wine of life afforded a +zest never after to be hoped for. + + + (10) Aurengzebe. + + +I return then to the consideration of the alleged shortness of life. I +mentioned in the beginning of this Essay, that "human life consists of +years, months and days; each day containing twenty-four hours." But, +when I said this, I by no means carried on the division so far as it +might be carried. It has been calculated that the human mind is capable +of being impressed with three hundred and twenty sensations in a second +of time.(11) + + + (11) See Watson on Time, Chapter II. + + +"How infinitely rapid is the succession of thought! While I am speaking, +perhaps no two ideas are in my mind at the same time, and yet with +what facility do I slide from one to another! If my discourse be +argumentative, how often do I pass in review the topics of which it +consists, before I utter them; and, even while I am speaking, continue +the review at intervals, without producing any pause in my discourse! +How many other sensations are experienced by me during this period, +without so much as interrupting, that is, without materially diverting, +the train of my ideas! My eye successively remarks a thousand objects +that present themselves. My mind wanders to the different parts of my +body, and receives a sensation from the chair on which I sit, or the +table on which I lean. It reverts to a variety of things that occurred +in the course of the morning, in the course of yesterday, the most +remote from, the most unconnected with, the subject that might seem +wholly to engross me. I see the window, the opening of a door, the +snuffing of a candle. When these most perceptibly occur, my mind passes +from one to the other, without feeling the minutest obstacle, or being +in any degree distracted by their multiplicity(12)." + + + (12) Political Justice, Book IV, Chapter ix. + + +If this statement should appear to some persons too subtle, it may +however prepare us to form a due estimate of the following remarks. + +"Art is long." No, certainly, no art is long, compared with the natural +duration of human life from puberty to old age. There is perhaps no art +that may not with reasonable diligence be acquired in three years, that +is, as to its essential members and its skilful exercise. We may improve +afterwards, but it will be only in minute particulars, and only by fits. +Our subsequent advancement less depends upon the continuance of our +application, than upon the improvement of the mind generally, the +refining of our taste, the strengthening our judgment, and the +accumulation of our experience. + +The idea which prevails among the vulgar of mankind is, that we must +make haste to be wise. The erroneousness of this notion however has from +time to time been detected by moralists and philosophers; and it has +been felt that he who proceeds in a hurry towards the goal, exposes +himself to the imminent risk of never reaching it. + +The consciousness of this danger has led to the adoption of the modified +maxim, Festina lente, Hasten, but with steps deliberate and cautious. + +It would however be a more correct advice to the aspirant, to say, Be +earnest in your application, but let your march be vigilant and slow. + +There is a doggrel couplet which I have met with in a book on elocution: + + Learn to speak slow: all other graces + Will follow in their proper places. + +I could wish to recommend a similar process to the student in the course +of his reading. + +Toplady, a celebrated methodist preacher of the last age, somewhere +relates a story of a coxcomb, who told him that he had read over +Euclid's Elements of Geometry one afternoon at his tea, only leaving out +the A's and B's and crooked lines, which seemed to be intruded merely to +retard his progress. + +Nothing is more easy than to gabble through a work replete with the +profoundest elements of thinking, and to carry away almost nothing, when +we have finished. + +The book does not deserve even to be read, which does not impose on +us the duty of frequent pauses, much reflecting and inward debate, +or require that we should often go back, compare one observation and +statement with another, and does not call upon us to combine and knit +together the disjecta membra. + +It is an observation which has often been repeated, that, when we come +to read an excellent author a second and a third time, we find in him a +multitude of things, that we did not in the slightest degree perceive +in a first reading. A careful first reading would have a tendency in a +considerable degree to anticipate this following crop. + +Nothing is more certain than that a schoolboy gathers much of his most +valuable instruction when his lesson is not absolutely before him. +In the same sense the more mature student will receive most important +benefit, when he shuts his book, and goes forth in the field, and +ruminates on what he has read. It is with the intellectual, as with the +corporeal eye: we must retire to a certain distance from the object we +would examine, before we can truly take in the whole. We must view it +in every direction, "survey it," as Sterne says, "transversely, then +foreright, then this way, and then that, in all its possible directions +and foreshortenings(13);" and thus only can it be expected that we +should adequately comprehend it. + + + (13) Tristram Shandy, Vol. IV, Chap. ii. + + +But the thing it was principally in my purpose to say is, that it is one +of the great desiderata of human life, not to accomplish our purposes +in the briefest time, to consider "life as short, and art as long," and +therefore to master our ends in the smallest number of days or of years, +but rather to consider it as an ample field that is spread before us, +and to examine how it is to be filled with pleasure, with advantage, and +with usefulness. Life is like a lordly garden, which it calls forth all +the skill of the artist to adorn with exhaustless variety and beauty; or +like a spacious park or pleasure-ground, all of whose inequalities +are to be embellished, and whose various capacities of fertilisation, +sublimity or grace, are to be turned to account, so that we may wander +in it for ever, and never be wearied. + +We shall perhaps understand this best, if we take up the subject on a +limited scale, and, before we consider life in its assigned period of +seventy years, first confine our attention to the space of a single day. +And we will consider that day, not as it relates to the man who earns +his subsistence by the labour of his hands, or to him who is immersed in +the endless details of commerce. But we will take the case of the man, +the whole of whose day is to be disposed of at his own discretion. + +The attention of the curious observer has often been called to the +tediousness of existence, how our time hangs upon our hands, and in +how high estimation the art is held, of giving wings to our hours, and +making them pass rapidly and cheerfully away. And moralists of a +cynical disposition have poured forth many a sorrowful ditty upon the +inconsistency of man, who complains of the shortness of life, at +the same time that he is put to the greatest straits how to give an +agreeable and pleasant occupation to its separate portions. "Let us +hear no more," say these moralists, "of the transitoriness of human +existence, from men to whom life is a burthen, and who are willing to +assign a reward to him that shall suggest to them an occupation or an +amusement untried before." + +But this inconsistency, if it merits the name, is not an affair of +artificial and supersubtle refinement, but is based in the fundamental +principles of our nature. It is unavoidable that, when we have reached +the close of any great epoch of our existence, and still more when we +have arrived at its final term, we should regret its transitory nature, +and lament that we have made no more effectual use of it. And yet the +periods and portions of the stream of time, as they pass by us, will +often be felt by us as insufferably slow in their progress, and we would +give no inconsiderable sum to procure that the present section of our +lives might come to an end, and that we might turn over a new leaf in +the volume of existence. + +I have heard various men profess that they never knew the minutes +that hung upon their hands, and were totally unacquainted with what, +borrowing a term from the French language, we call ennui. I own I have +listened to these persons with a certain degree of incredulity, always +excepting such as earn their subsistence by constant labour, or as, +being placed in a situation of active engagement, have not the leisure +to feel apathy and disgust. + +But we are talking here of that numerous class of human beings, who +are their own masters, and spend every hour of the day at the choice of +their discretion. To these we may add the persons who are partially so, +and who, having occupied three or four hours of every day in discharge +of some function necessarily imposed on them, at the striking of a given +hour go out of school, and employ themselves in a certain industry or +sport purely of their own election. + +To go back then to the consideration of the single day of a man, all +of whose hours are at his disposal to spend them well or ill, at the +bidding of his own judgment, or the impulse of his own caprice. + +We will suppose that, when he rises from his bed, he has sixteen hours +before him, to be employed in whatever mode his will shall decide. I +bar the case of travelling, or any of those schemes for passing the day, +which by their very nature take the election out of his hands, and fill +up his time with a perpetual motion, the nature of which is ascertained +from the beginning. + +With such a man then it is in the first place indispensibly necessary, +that he should have various successive occupations. There is no one +study or intellectual enquiry to which a man can apply sixteen hours +consecutively, unless in some extraordinary instances which can occur +but seldom in the course of a life. And even then the attention will +from time to time relax, and the freshness of mental zeal and activity +give way, though perhaps, after the lapse of a few minutes they may be +revived and brought into action again. + +In the ordinary series of human existence it is desirable that, in +the course of the same day, a man should have various successive +occupations. I myself for the most part read in one language at one part +of the day, and in another at another. I am then in the best health and +tone of spirits, when I employ two or three hours, and no more, in the +act of writing and composition. There must also in the sixteen hours +be a time for meals. There should be a time for fresh air and bodily +exercise. It is in the nature of man, that we should spend a part of +every day in the society of our fellows, either at public spectacles and +places of concourse, or in the familiar interchange of conversation +with one, two, or more persons with whom we can give ourselves up to +unrestrained communication. All human life, as I have said, every day +of our existence, consists of term and vacation; and the perfection +of practical wisdom is to interpose these one with another, so as to +produce a perpetual change, a well-chosen relief, and a freshness and +elastic tone which may bid defiance to weariness. + +Taken then in this point of view, what an empire does the man of leisure +possess in each single day of his life! He disposes of his hours much +in the same manner, as the commander of a company of men whom it is his +business to train in the discipline of war. + +This officer directs one party of his men to climb a mountain, and +another to ford or swim a stream which rushes along the valley. He +orders this set to rush forward with headlong course, and the other +to wheel, and approach by circuitous progress perhaps to the very same +point. He marches them to the right and the left. He then dismisses them +from the scene of exercise, to furbish their arms, to attend to their +accoutrements, or to partake of necessary refection. Not inferior to +this is the authority of the man of leisure in disposing of the hours +of one single day of his existence. And human life consists of many +such days, there being three hundred and sixty-five in each year that we +live. + +How infinitely various may be the occupations of the life of man from +puberty to old age! We may acquire languages; we may devote ourselves +to arts; we may give ourselves up to the profoundness of science. Nor is +any one of these objects incompatible with the others, nor is there +any reason why the same man should not embrace many. We may devote one +portion of the year to travelling, and another to all the abstractions +of study. I remember when I was a boy, looking forward with terror to +the ample field of human life, and saying, When I have read through all +the books that have been written, what shall I do afterwards? And there +is infinitely more sense in this, than in the ludicrous exclamations of +men who complain of the want of time, and say that life affords them no +space in which to act their imaginings. + +On the contrary, when a man has got to the end of one art or course of +study, he is compelled to consider what he shall do next. And, when +we have gone through a cycle of as many acquisitions, as, from the +limitation of human faculties, are not destructive of each other, we +shall find ourselves frequently reduced to the beginning some of them +over again. Nor is this the least agreeable occupation of human leisure. +The book that I read when I was a boy, presents quite a new face to me +as I advance in the vale of years. The same words and phrases suggest to +me a new train of ideas. And it is no mean pleasure that I derive from +the singular sensation of finding the same author and the same book, +old and yet not old, presenting to me cherished and inestimable +recollections, and at the same time communicating mines of wealth, the +shaft of which was till now unexplored. + +The result then of these various observations is to persuade the +candid and ingenuous man, to consider life as an important and ample +possession, to resolve that it shall be administered with as much +judgment and deliberation as a person of true philanthropy and wisdom +would administer a splendid income, and upon no occasion so much to +think upon the point of in how short a time an interesting pursuit is +to be accomplished, as by what means it shall be accomplished in a +consummate and masterly style. Let us hear no more, from those who have +to a considerable degree the command of their hours, the querulous and +pitiful complaint that they have no time to do what they ought to do and +would wish to do; but let them feel that they have a gigantic store of +minutes and hours and days and months, abundantly sufficient to enable +them to effect what it is especially worthy of a noble mind to perform! + + + + +ESSAY VIII. OF HUMAN VEGETATION. + +There is another point of view from which we may look at the subject of +time as it is concerned with the business of human life, that will lead +us to conclusions of a very different sort from those which are set down +in the preceding Essay. + +Man has two states of existence in a striking degree distinguished from +each other: the state in which he is found during his waking hours; and +the state in which he is during sleep. + +The question has been agitated by Locke and other philosophers, "whether +the soul always thinks," in other words, whether the mind, during those +hours in which our limbs lie for the most part in a state of +inactivity, is or is not engaged by a perpetual succession of images and +impressions. This is a point that can perhaps never be settled. When the +empire of sleep ceases, or when we are roused from sleep, we are often +conscious that we have been to that moment busily employed with that +sort of conceptions and scenes which we call dreams. And at times when, +on waking, we have no such consciousness, we can never perhaps be sure +that the shock that waked us, had not the effect of driving away these +fugitive and unsubstantial images. There are men who are accustomed to +say, they never dream. If in reality the mind of man, from the hour of +his birth, must by the law of its nature be constantly occupied with +sensations or images (and of the contrary we can never be sure), then +these men are all their lives in the state of persons, upon whom the +shock that wakes them, has the effect of driving away such fugitive +and unsubstantial images.--Add to which, there may be sensations in +the human subject, of a species confused and unpronounced, which never +arrive at that degree of distinctness as to take the shape of what we +call dreaming. + +So much for man in the state of sleep. + +But during our waking hours, our minds are very differently occupied at +different periods of the day. I would particularly distinguish the two +dissimilar states of the waking man, when the mind is indolent, and when +it is on the alert. + +While I am writing this Essay, my mind may be said to be on the alert. +It is on the alert, so long as I am attentively reading a book of +philosophy, of argumentation, of eloquence, or of poetry. + +It is on the alert, so long as I am addressing a smaller or a greater +audience, and endeavouring either to amuse or instruct them. It is on +the alert, while in silence and solitude I endeavour to follow a train +of reasoning, to marshal and arrange a connected set of ideas, or in any +other way to improve my mind, to purify my conceptions, and to advance +myself in any of the thousand kinds of intellectual process. It is on +the alert, when I am engaged in animated conversation, whether my cue +be to take a part in the reciprocation of alternate facts and remarks in +society, or merely to sit an attentive listener to the facts and remarks +of others. + +This state of the human mind may emphatically be called the state of +activity and attention. + +So long as I am engaged in any of the ways here enumerated, or in any +other equally stirring mental occupations which are not here set down, +my mind is in a frame of activity. + +But there is another state in which men pass their minutes and hours, +that is strongly contrasted with this. It depends in some men upon +constitution, and in others upon accident, how their time shall be +divided, how much shall be given to the state of activity, and how much +to the state of indolence. + +In an Essay I published many years ago there is this passage. + +"The chief point of difference between the man of talent and the +man without, consists in the different ways in which their minds are +employed during the same interval. They are obliged, let us suppose, +to walk from Temple-Bar to Hyde-Park-Corner. The dull man goes straight +forward; he has so many furlongs to traverse. He observes if he meets +any of his acquaintance; he enquires respecting their health and their +family. He glances perhaps the shops as he passes; he admires the +fashion of a buckle, and the metal of a tea-urn. If he experiences any +flights of fancy, they are of a short extent; of the same nature as the +flights of a forest-bird, clipped of his wings, and condemned to pass +the rest of his life in a farm-yard. On the other hand the man of talent +gives full scope to his imagination. He laughs and cries. Unindebted to +the suggestions of surrounding objects, his whole soul is employed. +He enters into nice calculations; he digests sagacious reasonings. +In imagination he declaims or describes, impressed with the deepest +sympathy, or elevated to the loftiest rapture. He makes a thousand +new and admirable combinations. He passes through a thousand imaginary +scenes, tries his courage, tasks his ingenuity, and thus becomes +gradually prepared to meet almost any of the many-coloured events of +human life. He consults by the aid of memory the books he has read, and +projects others for the future instruction and delight of mankind. If he +observe the passengers, he reads their countenances, conjectures their +past history, and forms a superficial notion of their wisdom or folly, +their virtue or vice, their satisfaction or misery. If he observe the +scenes that occur, it is with the eye of a connoisseur or an artist. +Every object is capable of suggesting to him a volume of reflections. +The time of these two persons in one respect resembles; it has brought +them both to Hyde-Park-Corner. In almost every other respect it is +dissimilar;(14)." + + + (14) Enquirer, Part 1, Essay V. + + +This passage undoubtedly contains a true description of what may happen, +and has happened. + +But there lurks in this statement a considerable error. + +It has appeared in the second Essay of this volume, that there is not +that broad and strong line of distinction between the wise man and the +dull that has often been supposed. We are all of us by turns both the +one and the other. Or, at least, the wisest man that ever existed +spends a portion of his time in vacancy and dulness; and the man, whose +faculties are seemingly the most obtuse, might, under proper management +from the hour of his birth, barring those rare exceptions from the +ordinary standard of mind which do not deserve to be taken into the +account, have proved apt, adroit, intelligent and acute, in the walk for +which his organisation especially fitted him(15). + + + (15) See above, Essay 3. + + +Many men without question, in a walk of the same duration as that above +described between Temple-Bar and Hyde-Park-Corner, have passed their +time in as much activity, and amidst as strong and various excitements, +as those enumerated in the passage above quoted. + +But the lives of all men, the wise, and those whom by way of contrast +we are accustomed to call the dull, are divided between animation and +comparative vacancy; and many a man, who by the bursts of his genius has +astonished the world, and commanded the veneration of successive +ages, has spent a period of time equal to that occupied by a walk from +Temple-Bar to Hyde-Park-Corner, in a state of mind as idle, and as +little affording materials for recollection, as the dullest man that +ever breathed the vital air. + +The two states of man which are here attempted to be distinguished, are, +first, that in which reason is said to fill her throne, in which will +prevails, and directs the powers of mind or of bodily action in one +channel or another; and, secondly, that in which these faculties, tired +of for ever exercising their prerogatives, or, being awakened as it were +from sleep, and having not yet assumed them, abandon the helm, even as +a mariner might be supposed to do, in a wide sea, and in a time when +no disaster could be apprehended, and leave the vessel of the mind to +drift, exactly as chance might direct. + +To describe this last state of mind I know not a better term that can +be chosen, than that of reverie. It is of the nature of what I have seen +denominated BROWN STUDY(16) a species of dozing and drowsiness, in which +all men spend a portion of the waking part of every day of their lives. +Every man must be conscious of passing minutes, perhaps hours of the +day, particularly when engaged in exercise in the open air, in this +species of neutrality and eviration. It is often not unpleasant at the +time, and leaves no sinking of the spirits behind. It is probably of +a salutary nature, and may be among the means, in a certain degree +beneficial like sleep, by which the machine is restored, and the man +comes forth from its discipline reinvigorated, and afresh capable of his +active duties. + + + (16) Norris, and Johnson, Dictionary of the English Language. + + +This condition of our nature has considerably less vitality in it, than +we experience in a complete and perfect dream. In dreaming we are often +conscious of lively impressions, of a busy scene, and of objects and +feelings succeeding each other with rapidity. We sometimes imagine +ourselves earnestly speaking: and the topics we treat, and the words we +employ, are supplied to us with extraordinary fluency. But the sort +of vacancy and inoccupation of which I here treat, has a greater +resemblance to the state of mind, without distinct and clearly unfolded +ideas, which we experience before we sink into sleep. The mind is in +reality in a condition, more properly accessible to feeling and capable +of thought, than actually in the exercise of either the one or the +other. We are conscious of existence and of little more. We move our +legs, and continue in a peripatetic state; for the man who has gone out +of his house with a purpose to walk, exercises the power of volition +when he sets out, but proceeds in his motion by a semi-voluntary act, +by a sort of vis inertiae, which will not cease to operate without +an express reason for doing so, and advances a thousand steps without +distinctly willing any but the first. When it is necessary to turn to +the right or the left, or to choose between any two directions on which +he is called upon to decide, his mind is so far brought into action as +the case may expressly require, and no further. + +I have here instanced in the case of the peripatetic: but of how +many classes and occupations of human life may not the same thing be +affirmed? It happens to the equestrian, as well as to him that walks on +foot. It occurs to him who cultivates the fruits of the earth, and to +him who is occupied in any of the thousand manufactures which are the +result of human ingenuity. It happens to the soldier in his march, and +to the mariner on board his vessel. It attends the individuals of +the female sex through all their diversified modes of industry, the +laundress, the housemaid, the sempstress, the netter of purses, the +knotter of fringe, and the worker in tambour, tapestry and embroidery. +In all, the limbs or the fingers are employed mechanically; the +attention of the mind is only required at intervals; and the thoughts +remain for the most part in a state of non-excitation and repose. + +It is a curious question, but extremely difficult of solution, what +portion of the day of every human creature must necessarily be spent in +this sort of intellectual indolence. In the lower classes of society its +empire is certainly very great; its influence is extensive over a large +portion of the opulent and luxurious; it is least among those who are +intrusted in the more serious affairs of mankind, and among the +literary and the learned, those who waste their lives, and consume the +midnight-oil, in the search after knowledge. + +It appeared with sufficient clearness in the immediately preceding +Essay, that the intellect cannot be always on the stretch, nor the bow +of the mind for ever bent. In the act of composition, unless where the +province is of a very inferior kind, it is likely that not more than two +or three hours at a time can be advantageously occupied. But in literary +labour it will often occur, that, in addition to the hours expressly +engaged in composition, much time may be required for the collecting +materials, the collating of authorities, and the bringing together a +variety of particulars, so as to sift from the mass those circumstances +which may best conduce to the purpose of the writer. In all these +preliminary and inferior enquiries it is less necessary that the mind +should be perpetually awake and on the alert, than in the direct +office of composition. The situation is considerably similar of the +experimental philosopher, the man who by obstinate and unconquerable +application resolves to wrest from nature her secrets, and apply them +to the improvement of social life, or to the giving to the human mind +a wider range or a more elevated sphere. A great portion of this +employment consists more in the motion of the hands and the opportune +glance of the eye, than in the labour of the head, and allows to the +operator from time to time an interval of rest from the momentous +efforts of invention and discovery, and the careful deduction of +consequences in the points to be elucidated. + +There is a distinction, sufficiently familiar to all persons who occupy +a portion of their time in reading, that is made between books of +instruction, and books of amusement. From the student of mathematics or +any of the higher departments of science, from the reader of books of +investigation and argument, an active attention is demanded. Even in the +perusal of the history of kingdoms and nations, or of certain +memorable periods of public affairs, we can scarcely proceed with any +satisfaction, unless in so far as we collect our thoughts, compare one +part of the narrative with another, and hold the mind in a state of +activity. + +We are obliged to reason while we read, and in some degree to construct +a discourse of our own, at the same time that we follow the statements +of the author before us. Unless we do this, the sense and spirit of what +we read will be apt to slip from under our observation, and we shall by +and by discover that we are putting together words and sounds only, +when we purposed to store our minds with facts and reflections. We +apprehended not the sense of the writer even when his pages were under +our eye, and of consequence have nothing laid up in the memory after the +hour of reading is completed. + +In works of amusement it is otherwise, and most especially in writings +of fiction. These are sought after with avidity by the idle, because +for the most part they are found to have the virtue of communicating +impressions to the reader, even while his mind remains in a state of +passiveness. He finds himself agreeably affected with fits of mirth or +of sorrow, and carries away the facts of the tale, at the same time that +he is not called upon for the act of attention. This is therefore one of +the modes of luxury especially cultivated in a highly civilized state of +society. + +The same considerations will also explain to us the principal part of +the pleasure that is experienced by mankind in all states of society +from public shews and exhibitions. The spectator is not called upon to +exert himself; the amusement and pleasure come to him, while he remains +voluptuously at his ease; and it is certain that the exertion we make +when we are compelled to contribute to, and become in part the cause +of our own entertainment, is more than the human mind is willing to +sustain, except at seasons in which we are specially on the alert and +awake. + +This is further one of the causes why men in general feel prompted to +seek the society of their fellows. We are in part no doubt called upon +in select society to bring our own information along with us, and a +certain vein of wit, humour or narrative, that we may contribute our +proportion to the general stock. We read the newspapers, the newest +publications, and repair to places of fashionable amusement and resort; +partly that we may at least be upon a par with the majority of the +persons we are likely to meet. But many do not thus prepare themselves, +nor does perhaps any one upon all occasions. + +There is another state of human existence in which we expressly dismiss +from our hands the reins of the mind, and suffer our minutes and our +hours to glide by us undisciplined and at random. + +This is, generally speaking, the case in a period of sickness. We have +no longer the courage to be on the alert, and to superintend the march +of our thoughts. It is the same with us for the most part when at any +time we lie awake in our beds. To speak from my own experience, I am in +a restless and uneasy state while I am alone in my sitting-room, unless +I have some occupation of my own choice, writing or reading, or any of +those employments the pursuit of which was chosen at first, and which is +more or less under the direction of the will afterwards. But when awake +in my bed, either in health or sickness, I am reasonably content to let +my thoughts flow on agreeably to those laws of association by which I +find them directed, without giving myself the trouble to direct them +into one channel rather than another, or to marshal and actively to +prescribe the various turns and mutations they may be impelled to +pursue. + +It is thus that we are sick; and it is thus that we die. The man that +guides the operations of his own mind, is either to a certain degree +in bodily health, or in that health of mind which shall for a longer or +shorter time stand forward as the substitute of the health of the body. +When we die, we give up the game, and are not disposed to contend any +further. It is a very usual thing to talk of the struggles of a man in +articulo mortis. But this is probably, like so many other things that +occur to us in this sublunary stage, a delusion. The bystander mistakes +for a spontaneous contention and unwillingness to die, what is in +reality nothing more than an involuntary contraction and convulsion of +the nerves, to which the mind is no party, and is even very probably +unconscious.--But enough of this, the final and most humiliating state +through which mortal men may be called on to pass. + +I find then in the history of almost every human creature four different +states or modes of existence. First, there is sleep. In the strongest +degree of contrast to this there is the frame in which we find +ourselves, when we write! or invent and steadily pursue a consecutive +train of thinking unattended with the implements of writing, or read +in some book of science or otherwise which calls upon us for a fixed +attention, or address ourselves to a smaller or greater audience, or are +engaged in animated conversation. In each of these occupations the mind +may emphatically be said to be on the alert. + +But there are further two distinct states or kinds of mental indolence. +The first is that which we frequently experience during a walk or any +other species of bodily exercise, where, when the whole is at an end, +we scarcely recollect any thing in which the mind has been employed, but +have been in what I may call a healthful torpor, where our limbs have +been sufficiently in action to continue our exercise, we have felt the +fresh breeze playing on our cheeks, and have been in other respects in +a frame of no unpleasing neutrality. This may be supposed greatly to +contribute to our bodily health. It is the holiday of the faculties: +and, as the bow, when it has been for a considerable time unbent, is +said to recover its elasticity, so the mind, after a holiday of this +sort, comes fresh, and with an increased alacrity, to those occupations +which advance man most highly in the scale of being. + +But there is a second state of mental indolence, not so complete as +this, but which is still indolence, inasmuch as in it the mind is +passive, and does not assume the reins of empire. Such is the state in +which we are during our sleepless hours in bed; and in this state our +ideas, and the topics that successively occur, appear to go forward +without remission, while it seems that it is this busy condition of the +mind, and the involuntary activity of our thoughts, that prevent us from +sleeping. + +The distinction then between these two sorts of indolence is, that +in the latter our ideas are perfectly distinct, are attended with +consciousness, and can, as we please, be called up to recollection. This +therefore is not what we understand by reverie. In these waking hours +which are spent by us in bed, the mind is no less busy, than it is +in sleep during a dream. The other and more perfect sort of mental +indolence, is that which we often experience during our exercise in the +open air. This is of the same nature as the condition of thought which +seems to be the necessary precursor of sleep, and is attended with no +precise consciousness. + +By the whole of the above statement we are led to a new and a modified +estimate of the duration of human life. + +If by life we understand mere susceptibility, a state of existence in +which we are accessible at any moment to the onset of sensation, for +example, of pain--in this sense our life is commensurate, or nearly +commensurate, to the entire period, from the quickening of the child in +the womb, to the minute at which sense deserts the dying man, and his +body becomes an inanimate mass. + +But life, in the emphatical sense, and par excellence, is reduced to +much narrower limits. From this species of life it is unavoidable that +we should strike off the whole of the interval that is spent in sleep; +and thus, as a general rule, the natural day of twenty-four hours is +immediately reduced to sixteen. + +Of these sixteen hours again, there is a portion that falls under the +direction of will and attention, and a portion that is passed by us in a +state of mental indolence. By the ordinary and least cultivated class of +mankind, the husbandman, the manufacturer, the soldier, the sailor, and +the main body of the female sex, much the greater part of every day +is resigned to a state of mental indolence. The will does not actively +interfere, and the attention is not roused. Even the most intellectual +beings of our species pass no inconsiderable portion of every day in a +similar condition. Such is our state for the most part during the time +that is given to bodily exercise, and during the time in which we read +books of amusement merely, or are employed in witnessing public shews +and exhibitions. + +That portion of every day of our existence which is occupied by us with +a mind attentive and on the alert, I would call life in a transcendant +sense. The rest is scarcely better than a state of vegetation. + +And yet not so either. The happiest and most valuable thoughts of the +human mind will sometimes come when they are least sought for, and we +least anticipated any such thing. In reading a romance, in witnessing a +performance at a theatre, in our idlest and most sportive moods, a +vein in the soil of intellect will sometimes unexpectedly be broken +up, "richer than all the tribe" of contemporaneous thoughts, that shall +raise him to whom it occurs, to a rank among his species altogether +different from any thing he had looked for. Newton was led to the +doctrine of gravitation by the fall of an apple, as he indolently +reclined under the tree on which it grew. "A verse may find him, who +a sermon flies." Polemon, when intoxicated, entered the school of +Xenocrates, and was so struck with the energy displayed by the master, +and the thoughts he delivered, that from that moment he renounced the +life of dissipation he had previously led, and applied himself entirely +to the study of philosophy. --But these instances are comparatively of +rare occurrence, and do not require to be taken into the account. + +It is still true therefore for the most part, that not more than eight +hours in the day are passed by the wisest and most energetic, with a +mind attentive and on the alert. The remainder is a period of vegetation +only. In the mean time we have all of us undoubtedly to a certain degree +the power of enlarging the extent of the period of transcendant life in +each day of our healthful existence, and causing it to encroach upon the +period either of mental indolence or of sleep.--With the greater part +of the human species the whole of their lives while awake, with the +exception of a few brief and insulated intervals, is spent in a passive +state of the intellectual powers. Thoughts come and go, as chance, or +some undefined power in nature may direct, uninterfered with by the +sovereign will, the steersman of the mind. And often the understanding +appears to be a blank, upon which if any impressions are then made, they +are like figures drawn in the sand which the next tide obliterates, or +are even lighter and more evanescent than this. + +Let me add, that the existence of the child for two or three years from +the period of his birth, is almost entirely a state of vegetation. The +impressions that are made upon his sensorium come and go, without +either their advent or departure being anticipated, and without the +interference of the will. It is only under some express excitement, that +the faculty of will mounts its throne, and exercises its empire. When +the child smiles, that act is involuntary; but, when he cries, +will presently comes to mix itself with the phenomenon. Wilfulness, +impatience and rebellion are infallible symptoms of a mind on the alert. +And, as the child in the first stages of its existence puts forth the +faculty of will only at intervals, so for a similar reason this +period is but rarely accompanied with memory, or leaves any traces of +recollection for our after-life. + +There are other memorable states of the intellectual powers, which if +I did not mention, the survey here taken would seem to be glaringly +imperfect. The first of these is madness. In this humiliating condition +of our nature the sovereignty of reason is deposed: + + Chaos umpire sits, + And by decision more embroils the fray. + +The mind is in a state of turbulence and tempest in one instant, and in +another subsides into the deepest imbecility; and, even when the will is +occasionally roused, the link which preserved its union with good sense +and sobriety is dissolved, and the views by which it has the appearance +of being regulated, are all based in misconstruction and delusion. + +Next to madness occur the different stages of spleen, dejection +and listlessness. The essence of these lies in the passiveness and +neutrality of the intellectual powers. In as far as the unhappy sufferer +could be roused to act, the disease would be essentially diminished, +and might finally be expelled. But long days and months are spent by the +patient in the midst of all harassing imaginations, and an everlasting +nightmare seems to sit on the soul, and lock up its powers in +interminable inactivity. Almost the only interruption to this, is when +the demands of nature require our attention, or we pay a slight and +uncertain attention to the decencies of cleanliness and attire. + +In all these considerations then we find abundant occasion to humble +the pride and vain-glory of man. But they do not overturn the principles +delivered in the preceding Essay respecting the duration of human life, +though they certainly interpose additional boundaries to limit the +prospects of individual improvement. + + + + +ESSAY IX. OF LEISURE. + +The river of human life is divided into two streams; occupation and +leisure--or, to express the thing more accurately, that occupation, +which is prescribed, and may be called the business of life, and that +occupation, which arises contingently, and not so much of absolute and +set purpose, not being prescribed: such being the more exact description +of these two divisions of human life, inasmuch as the latter is often +not less earnest and intent in its pursuits than the former. + +It would be a curious question to ascertain which of these is of the +highest value. + +To this enquiry I hear myself loudly and vehemently answered from +all hands in favour of the first. "This," I am told by unanimous +acclamation, "is the business of life." + +The decision in favour of what we primarily called occupation, above +what we called leisure, may in a mitigated sense be entertained as true. +Man can live with little or no leisure, for millions of human beings +do so live: but the species to which we belong, and of consequence +the individuals of that species, cannot exist as they ought to exist, +without occupation. + +Granting however the paramount claims that occupation has to our regard, +let us endeavour to arrive at a just estimate of the value of leisure. + +It has been said by some one, with great appearance of truth, that +schoolboys learn as much, perhaps more, of beneficial knowledge in their +hours of play, as in their hours of study. + +The wisdom of ages has been applied to ascertain what are the most +desirable topics for the study of the schoolboy. They are selected for +the most part by the parent. There are few parents that do not feel a +sincere and disinterested desire for the welfare of their children. It +is an unquestionable maxim, that we are the best judges of that of which +we have ourselves had experience; and all parents have been children. +It is therefore idle and ridiculous to suppose that those studies +which have for centuries been chosen by the enlightened mature for the +occupation of the young, have not for the most part been well chosen. Of +these studies the earliest consist in the arts of reading and writing. +Next follows arithmetic, with perhaps some rudiments of algebra and +geometry. Afterward comes in due order the acquisition of languages, +particularly the dead languages; a most fortunate occupation for those +years of man, in which the memory is most retentive, and the reasoning +powers have yet acquired neither solidity nor enlargement. Such are the +occupations of the schoolboy in his prescribed hours of study. + +But the schoolboy is cooped up in an apartment, it may be with a number +of his fellows. He is seated at a desk, diligently conning the portion +of learning that is doled out to him, or, when he has mastered his +lesson, reciting it with anxious brow and unassured lips to the senior, +who is to correct his errors, and pronounce upon the sufficiency of his +industry. All this may be well: but it is a new and more exhilarating +spectacle that presents itself to our observation, when he is dismissed +from his temporary labours, and rushes impetuously out to the open air, +and gives free scope to his limbs and his voice, and is no longer under +the eye of a censor that shall make him feel his subordination and +dependence. + +Meanwhile the question under consideration was, not in which state he +experienced the most happiness, but which was productive of the greatest +improvement. + +The review of the human subject is conveniently divided under the heads +of body and mind. + +There can be no doubt that the health of the body is most promoted by +those exercises in which the schoolboy is engaged during the hours of +play. And it is further to be considered that health is required, not +only that we may be serene, contented and happy, but that we may be +enabled effectually to exert the faculties of the mind. + +But there is another way, in which we are called upon to consider the +division of the human subject under the heads of body and mind. + +The body is the implement and instrument of the mind, the tool by which +most of its purposes are to be effected. We live in the midst of +a material world, or of what we call such. The greater part of the +pursuits in which we engage, are achieved by the action of the limbs and +members of the body upon external matter. + +Our communications with our fellow-men are all of them carried on by +means of the body. + +Now the action of the limbs and members of the body is infinitely +improved by those exercises in which the schoolboy becomes engaged +during his hours of play. In the first place it is to be considered that +we do those things most thoroughly and in the shortest time, which are +spontaneous, the result of our own volition; and such are the exercises +in which the schoolboy engages during this period. His heart and soul +are in what he does. The man or the boy must be a poor creature indeed, +who never does any thing but as he is bid by another. It is in his +voluntary acts and his sports, that he learns the skilful and effective +use of his eye and his limbs. He selects his mark, and he hits it. He +tries again and again, effort after effort, and day after day, till he +has surmounted the difficulty of the attempt, and the rebellion of +his members. Every articulation and muscle of his frame is called into +action, till all are obedient to the master-will; and his limbs are +lubricated and rendered pliant by exercise, as the limbs of the Grecian +athleta were lubricated with oil. + +Thus he acquires, first dexterity of motion, and next, which is of no +less importance, a confidence in his own powers, a consciousness that +he is able to effect what he purposes, a calmness and serenity which +resemble the sweeping of the area, and scattering of the saw-dust, upon +which the dancer or the athlete is to exhibit with grace, strength and +effect. + +So much for the advantages reaped by the schoolboy during his hours of +play as to the maturing his bodily powers, and the improvement of those +faculties of his mind which more immediately apply to the exercise of +his bodily powers. + +But, beside this, it is indispensible to the well-being and advantage +of the individual, that he should employ the faculties of his mind in +spontaneous exertions. I do not object, especially during the period +of nonage, to a considerable degree of dependence and control. But +his greatest advancement, even then, seems to arise from the interior +impulses of his mind. The schoolboy exercises his wit, and indulges in +sallies of the thinking principle. This is wholsome; this is fresh; it +has twice the quickness, clearness and decision in it, that are to be +found in those acts of the mind which are employed about the lessons +prescribed to him. + +In school our youth are employed about the thoughts, the acts and +suggestions of other men. This is all mimicry, and a sort of second-hand +business. It resembles the proceeding of the fresh-listed soldier at +drill; he has ever his eye on his right-hand man, and does not raise his +arm, nor advance his foot, nor move his finger, but as he sees another +perform the same motion before him. It is when the schoolboy proceeds to +the playground, that he engages in real action and real discussion. It +is then that he is an absolute human being and a genuine individual. + +The debates of schoolboys, their discussions what they shall do, and how +it shall be done, are anticipations of the scenes of maturer life. They +are the dawnings of committees, and vestries, and hundred-courts, and +ward-motes, and folk-motes, and parliaments. When boys consult when and +where their next cricket-match shall be played, it may be regarded as +the embryo representation of a consult respecting a grave enterprise to +be formed, or a colony to be planted. And, when they enquire respecting +poetry and prose, and figures and tropes, and the dictates of taste, +this happily prepares them for the investigations of prudence, and +morals, and religious principles, and what is science, and what is +truth. + +It is thus that the wit of man, to use the word in the old Saxon sense, +begins to be cultivated. One boy gives utterance to an assertion; and +another joins issue with him, and retorts. The wheels of the engine of +the brain are set in motion, and, without force, perform their healthful +revolutions. The stripling feels himself called upon to exert his +presence of mind, and becomes conscious of the necessity of an immediate +reply. Like the unfledged bird, he spreads his wings, and essays their +powers. He does not answer, like a boy in his class, who tasks his +understanding or not, as the whim of the moment shall prompt him, where +one boy honestly performs to the extent of his ability, and others +disdain the empire assumed over them, and get off as cheaply as they +can. He is no longer under review, but is engaged in real action. The +debate of the schoolboy is the combat of the intellectual gladiator, +where he fences and parries and thrusts with all the skill and judgment +he possesses. + +There is another way in which the schoolboy exercises his powers during +his periods of leisure. He is often in society; but he is ever and anon +in solitude. At no period of human life are our reveries so free +and untrammeled, as at the period here spoken of. He climbs the +mountain-cliff; and penetrates into the depths of the woods. His +joints are well strung; he is a stranger to fatigue. He rushes down the +precipice, and mounts again with ease, as though he had the wings of +a bird. He ruminates, and pursues his own trains of reflection and +discovery, "exhausting worlds," as it appears to him, "and then +imagining new." He hovers on the brink of the deepest philosophy, +enquiring how came I here, and to what end. He becomes a castle-builder, +constructing imaginary colleges and states, and searching out the +businesses in which they are to be employed, and the schemes by which +they are to be regulated. He thinks what he would do, if he possessed +uncontrolable strength, if he could fly, if he could make himself +invisible. In this train of mind he cons his first lessons of liberty +and independence. He learns self-reverence, and says to himself, I also +am an artist, and a maker. He ruffles himself under the yoke, and feels +that he suffers foul tyranny when he is driven, and when brute force is +exercised upon him, to compel him to a certain course, or to chastise +his faults, imputed or real. + +Such are the benefits of leisure to the schoolboy: and they are not less +to man when arrived at years of discretion. It is good for us to have +some regular and stated occupation. Man may be practically too free; +this is frequently the case with those who have been nurtured in the lap +of opulence and luxury. We were sent into the world under the condition, +"In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread." And those who, by the +artificial institutions of society, are discharged from this necessity, +are placed in a critical and perilous situation. They are bound, if +they would consult their own well-being, to contrive for themselves a +factitious necessity, that may stand them in the place of that necessity +which is imposed without appeal on the vast majority of their brethren. + +But, if it is desirable that every man should have some regular and +stated occupation, so it is certainly not less desirable, that every man +should have his seasons of relaxation and leisure. + +Unhappy is the wretch, whose condition it is to be perpetually bound to +the oar, and who is condemned to labour in one certain mode, during all +the hours that are not claimed by sleep, or as long as the muscles of +his frame, or the fibres of his fingers will enable him to persevere. +"Apollo himself," says the poet, "does not always bend the bow." There +should be a season, when the mind is free as air, when not only we +should follow without restraint any train of thinking or action, within +the bounds of sobriety, and that is not attended with injury to others, +that our own minds may suggest to us, but should sacrifice at the shrine +of intellectual liberty, and spread our wings, and take our flight into +untried regions. It is good for man that he should feel himself at some +time unshackled and autocratical, that he should say, This I do, because +it is prescribed to me by the conditions without which I cannot exist, +or by the election which in past time I deliberately made; and this, +because it is dictated by the present frame of my spirit, and is +therefore that in which the powers my nature has entailed upon me may be +most fully manifested. In addition to which we are to consider, that a +certain variety and mutation of employments is best adapted to humanity. +When my mind or my body seems to be overwrought by one species of +occupation, the substitution of another will often impart to me new +life, and make me feel as fresh as if no labour had before engaged me. +For all these reasons it is to be desired, that we should possess the +inestimable privilege of leisure, that in the revolving hours of every +day a period should arrive, at which we should lay down the weapons +of our labour, and engage in a sport that may be no less active and +strenuous than the occupation which preceded it. + +A question, which deserves our attention in this place, is, how much of +every day it behoves us to give to regular and stated occupation, and +how much is the just and legitimate province of leisure. It has been +remarked in a preceding Essay(17), that, if my main and leading pursuit +is literary composition, two or three hours in the twenty-four will +often be as much as can advantageously and effectually be so employed. +But this will unavoidably vary according to the nature of the +occupation: the period above named may be taken as the MINIMUM. + + + (17) See above, Essay 7. + + +Such, let us say, is the portion of time which the man of letters is +called on to devote to literary composition. + +It may next be fitting to enquire as to the humbler classes of society, +and those persons who are engaged in the labour of the hands, how much +time they ought to be expected to consume in their regular and stated +occupations, and how much would remain to them for relaxation and +leisure. It has been said(18), that half an hour in the day given by +every member of the community to manual labour, might be sufficient for +supplying the whole with the absolute necessaries of life. But there are +various considerations that would inevitably lengthen this period. In +a community which has made any considerable advance in the race of +civilisation, many individuals must be expected to be excused from any +portion of manual labour. It is not desirable that any community should +be contented to supply itself with necessaries only. There are many +refinements in life, and many advances in literature and the arts, which +indispensibly conduce to the rendering man in society a nobler and more +exalted creature than he could otherwise be; and these ought not to be +consigned to neglect. + + + (18) Political Justice, Book VIII, Chap. VI. + + +On the other hand however it is certain, that much of the ostentation +and a multitude of the luxuries which subsist in European and Asiatic +society are just topics of regret, and that, if ever those improvements +in civilisation take place which philosophy has essayed to delineate, +there would be a great abridgment of the manual labour that we now see +around us, and the humbler classes of the community would enter into the +inheritance of a more considerable portion of leisure than at present +falls to their lot. + +But it has been much the habit, for persons not belonging to the humbler +classes of the community, and who profess to speculate upon the genuine +interests of human society, to suppose, however certain intervals +of leisure may conduce to the benefit of men whose tastes have been +cultivated and refined, and who from education have many resources of +literature and reflection at all times at their beck, yet that leisure +might prove rather pernicious than otherwise to the uneducated and +the ignorant. Let us enquire then how these persons would be likely to +employ the remainder of their time, if they had a greater portion of +leisure than they at present enjoy.--I would add, that the individuals +of the humbler classes of the community need not for ever to merit the +appellation of the uneducated and ignorant. + +In the first place, they would engage, like the schoolboy, in active +sports, thereby giving to their limbs, which, in rural occupation and +mechanical labour, are somewhat too monotonously employed, and contract +the stiffness and experience the waste of a premature old age, the +activity and freedom of an athlete, a cricketer, or a hunter. Nor do +these occupations only conduce to the health of the body, they also +impart a spirit and a juvenile earnestness to the mind. + +In the next place, they may be expected to devote a part of the day, +more than they do at present, to their wives and families, cultivating +the domestic affections, watching the expanding bodies and minds of +their children, leading them on in the road of improvement, warning them +against the perils with which they are surrounded, and observing with +somewhat of a more jealous and parental care, what it is for which by +their individual qualities they are best adapted, and in what particular +walk of life they may most advantageously be engaged. The father and +the son would grow in a much greater degree friends, anticipating each +other's wishes, and sympathising in each other's pleasures and pains. + +Thirdly, one infallible consequence of a greater degree of leisure +in the lower classes would be that reading would become a more common +propensity and amusement. It is the aphorism of one of the most +enlightened of my contemporaries, "The schoolmaster is abroad:" and many +more than at present would desire to store up in their little hoard a +certain portion of the general improvement. We should no longer have +occasion to say, + + But knowledge to their eyes her ample page, + Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unrol. + +Nor should we be incited to fear that ever wakeful anticipation of the +illiberal, that, by the too great diffusion of the wisdom of the wise, +we might cease to have a race of men adapted to the ordinary pursuits +of life. Our ploughmen and artificers, who obtained the improvements +of intellect through the medium of leisure, would have already received +their destination, and formed their habits, and would be disposed to +consider the new lights that were opened upon them, as the ornament +of existence, not its substance. Add to which, as leisure became more +abundant, and the opportunities of intellectual improvement increased, +they would have less motive to repine at their lot. It is principally +while knowledge and information are new, that they are likely to +intoxicate the brain of those to whose share they have fallen; and, when +they are made a common stock upon which all men may draw, sound thinking +and sobriety may be expected to be the general result. + +One of the scenes to which the leisure of the laborious classes is seen +to induce them to resort, is the public-house; and it is inferred +that, if their leisure were greater, a greater degree of drunkenness, +dissipation and riot would inevitably prevail. + +In answer to this anticipation, I would in the first place assert, that +the merits and demerits of the public-house are very unjustly rated by +the fastidious among the more favoured orders of society. + +We ought to consider that the opportunities and amusements of the lower +orders of society are few. They do not frequent coffee-houses; theatres +and places of public exhibition are ordinarily too expensive for them; +and they cannot engage in rounds of visiting, thus cultivating a private +and familiar intercourse with the few whose conversation might be most +congenial to them. We certainly bear hard upon persons in this rank of +society, if we expect that they should take all the severer labour, and +have no periods of unbending and amusement. + +But in reality what occurs in the public-house we are too much in the +habit of calumniating. If we would visit this scene, we should find it +pretty extensively a theatre of eager and earnest discussion. It is here +that the ardent and "unwashed artificer," and the sturdy husbandman, +compare notes and measure wits with each other. It is their arena of +intellectual combat, the ludus literarius of their unrefined university. +It is here they learn to think. Their minds are awakened from the sleep +of ignorance; and their attention is turned into a thousand channels of +improvement. They study the art of speaking, of question, allegation +and rejoinder. They fix their thought steadily on the statement that is +made, acknowledge its force, or detect its insufficiency. They examine +the most interesting topics, and form opinions the result of that +examination. They learn maxims of life, and become politicians. They +canvas the civil and criminal laws of their country, and learn the value +of political liberty. They talk over measures of state, judge of the +intentions, sagacity and sincerity of public men, and are likely in time +to become in no contemptible degree capable of estimating what modes of +conducting national affairs, whether for the preservation of the rights +of all, or for the vindication and assertion of justice between man and +man, may be expected to be crowned with the greatest success: in a word, +they thus become, in the best sense of the word, citizens. + +As to excess in drinking, the same thing may be expected to occur here, +as has been remarked of late years in better company in England. In +proportion as the understanding is cultivated, men are found to be less +the victims of drinking and the grosser provocatives of sense. The king +of Persia of old made it his boast that he could drink large quantities +of liquor with greater impunity than any of his subjects. Such was +not the case with the more polished Greeks. In the dark ages the most +glaring enormities of that kind prevailed. Under our Charles the +Second coarse dissipation and riot characterised the highest circles. +Rochester, the most accomplished man and the greatest wit of our island, +related of himself that, for five years together, he could not affirm +that for any one day he had been thoroughly sober. In Ireland, a +country less refined than our own, the period is not long past, when on +convivial occasions the master of the house took the key from his door, +that no one of his guests might escape without having had his dose. No +small number of the contemporaries of my youth fell premature victims +to the intemperance which was then practised. Now wine is merely used +to excite a gayer and livelier tone of the spirits; and inebriety is +scarcely known in the higher circles. In like manner, it may readily +be believed that, as men in the lower classes of society become less +ignorant and obtuse, as their thoughts are less gross, as they wear off +the vestigia ruris, the remains of a barbarous state, they will find +less need to set their spirits afloat by this animal excitement, and +will devote themselves to those thoughts and that intercourse which +shall inspire them with better and more honourable thoughts of our +common nature. + + + + +ESSAY X. OF IMITATION AND INVENTION. + +Of the sayings of the wise men of former times none has been oftener +repeated than that of Solomon, "The thing that hath been, is that which +is; and that which is done, is that which shall be done; and there is no +new thing under the sun." + +The books of the Old Testament are apparently a collection of the whole +literary remains of an ancient and memorable people, whose wisdom may +furnish instruction to us, and whose poetry abounds in lofty flights +and sublime imagery. How this collection came indiscriminately to +be considered as written by divine inspiration, it is difficult to +pronounce. The history of the Jews, as contained in the Books of Kings +and of Chronicles, certainly did not require the interposition of +the Almighty for its production; and the pieces we receive as the +compositions of Solomon have conspicuously the air of having emanated +from a conception entirely human. + +In the book of Ecclesiastes, from which the above sentence is taken, +are many sentiments not in accordance with the religion of Christ. For +example; "That which befalleth the sons of men, befalleth beasts; as the +one dieth, so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath, so that a +man hath no preeminence above a beast: all go to one place; all are of +the dust, and turn to dust again. Wherefore I perceive that there is +nothing better, than that a man should rejoice in his works." And again, +"The living know that they shall die; but the dead know not any thing; +their love, and their hatred, and their envy are perished; neither have +they any more a reward." Add to this, "Wherefore I praise the dead which +are already dead, more than the living which are yet alive: yea, better +is he than both they, which hath not yet been." There can therefore be +no just exception taken against our allowing ourselves freely to canvas +the maxim cited at the head of this Essay. + +It certainly contains a sufficient quantity of unquestionable truth, +to induce us to regard it as springing from profound observation, and +comprehensive views of what is acted "under the sun." + +A wise man would look at the labours of his own species, in much the +same spirit as he would view an ant-hill through a microscope. He would +see them tugging a grain of corn up a declivity; he would see the tracks +that are made by those who go, and who return; their incessant activity; +and would find one day the copy of that which went before; and their +labours ending in nothing: I mean, in nothing that shall carry forward +the improvement of the head and the heart, either in the individual or +society, or that shall add to the conveniences of life, or the better +providing for the welfare of communities of men. He would smile at their +earnestness and zeal, all spent in supplying the necessaries of the day, +or, at most, providing for the revolution of the seasons, or for that +ephemeral thing we call the life of man. + +Few things can appear more singular, when duly analysed, than that +articulated air, which we denominate speech. It is not to be wondered at +that we are proud of the prerogative, which so eminently distinguishes +us from the rest of the animal creation. The dog, the cat, the horse, +the bear, the lion, all of them have voice. But we may almost consider +this as their reproach. They can utter for the greater part but one +monotonous, eternal sound. + +The lips, the teeth, the palate, the throat, which in man are +instruments of modifying the voice in such endless variety, are in this +respect given to them in vain: while all the thoughts that occur, +at least to the bulk of mankind, we are able to express in words, to +communicate facts, feelings, passions, sentiments, to discuss, to argue, +to agree, to issue commands on the one part, and report the execution on +the other, to inspire lofty conceptions, to excite the deepest feeling +of commiseration, and to thrill the soul with extacy, almost too mighty +to be endured. + +Yet what is human speech for the most part but mere imitation? In the +most obvious sense this stands out on the surface. We learn the same +words, we speak the same language, as our elders. Not only our words, +but our phrases are the same. We are like players, who come out as if +they were real persons, but only utter what is set down for them. We +represent the same drama every day; and, however stale is the eternal +repetition, pass it off upon others, and even upon ourselves, as if it +were the suggestion of the moment. In reality, in rural or vulgar +life, the invention of a new phrase ought to be marked down among the +memorable things in the calendar. We afford too much honour to ordinary +conversation, when we compare it to the exhibition of the recognised +theatres, since men ought for the most part to be considered as no more +than puppets. They perform the gesticulations; but the words come from +some one else, who is hid from the sight of the general observer. And +not only the words, but the cadence: they have not even so much honour +as players have, to choose the manner they may deem fittest by which to +convey the sense and the passion of what they speak. The pronunciation, +the dialect, all, are supplied to them, and are but a servile +repetition. Our tempers are merely the work of the transcriber. We are +angry, where we saw that others were angry; and we are pleased, because +it is the tone to be pleased. We pretend to have each of us a judgment +of our own: but in truth we wait with the most patient docility, till he +whom we regard as the leader of the chorus gives us the signal, Here you +are to applaud, and Here you are to condemn. + +What is it that constitutes the manners of nations, by which the +people of one country are so eminently distinguished from the people +of another, so that you cannot cross the channel from Dover to Calais, +twenty-one miles, without finding yourself in a new world? Nay, I need +not go among the subjects of another government to find examples of +this; if I pass into Ireland, Scotland or Wales, I see myself surrounded +with a new people, all of whose characters are in a manner cast in one +mould, and all different from the citizens of the principal state and +from one another. We may go further than this. Not only nations, +but classes of men, are contrasted with each other. What can be more +different than the gentry of the west end of this metropolis, and the +money-making dwellers in the east? From them I will pass to Billingsgate +and Wapping. What more unlike than a soldier and a sailor? the children +of fashion that stroll in St. James's and Hyde Park, and the care-worn +hirelings, that recreate themselves, with their wives and their brats, +with a little fresh air on a Sunday near Islington? The houses of lords +and commons have each their characteristic manners. Each profession has +its own, the lawyer, the divine, and the man of medicine. We are all +apes, fixing our eyes upon a model, and copying him, gesture by gesture. +We are sheep, rushing headlong through the gap, when the bell-wether +shews us the way. We are choristers, mechanically singing in a certain +key, and giving breath to a certain tone. + +Our religion, our civil practices, our political creed, are all +imitation. How many men are there, that have examined the evidences of +their religious belief, and can give a sound "reason of the faith that +is in them?" When I was a child, I was taught that there were four +religions in the world, the Popish, the Protestant, the Mahometan, the +Pagan. It is a phenomenon to find the man, who has held the balance +steadily, and rendered full and exact justice to the pretensions of each +of these. No: tell me the longitude and latitude in which a man is born, +and I will tell you his religion. + + By education most have been misled; + So they believe, because they so were bred: + The priest continues what the nurse began, + And thus the child imposes on the man. + +And, if this happens, where we are told our everlasting salvation is at +issue, we may easily judge of the rest. + +The author, with one of whose dicta I began this Essay, has observed, +"One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh; but the +earth abideth for ever." It is a maxim of the English constitution, that +"the king never dies;" and the same may with nearly equal propriety be +observed of every private man, especially if he have children. "Death," +say the writers of natural history, "is the generator of life:" and what +is thus true of animal corruption, may with small variation be affirmed +of human mortality. I turn off my footman, and hire another; and he puts +on the livery of his predecessor: he thinks himself somebody; but he +is only a tenant. The same thing is true, when a country-gentleman, a +noble, a bishop, or a king dies. He puts off his garments, and another +puts them on. Every one knows the story of the Tartarian dervise, +who mistook the royal palace for a caravansera, and who proved to his +majesty by genealogical deduction, that he was only a lodger. In this +sense the mutability, which so eminently characterises every thing +sublunary, is immutability under another name. + +The most calamitous, and the most stupendous scenes are nothing but an +eternal and wearisome repetition: executions, murders, plagues, famine +and battle. Military execution, the demolition of cities, the conquest +of nations, have been acted a hundred times before. The mighty +conqueror, who "smote the people in wrath with a continual stroke," who +"sat in the seat of God, shewing himself that he was God," and assuredly +persuaded himself that he was doing something to be had in everlasting +remembrance, only did that which a hundred other vulgar conquerors had +done in successive ages of the world, whose very names have long since +perished from the records of mankind. + +Thus it is that the human species is for ever engaged in laborious +idleness. We put our shoulder to the wheel, and raise the vehicle out of +the mire in which it was swallowed, and we say, I have done something; +but the same feat under the same circumstances has been performed +a thousand times before. We make what strikes us as a profound +observation; and, when fairly analysed, it turns out to be about as +sagacious, as if we told what's o'clock, or whether it is rain or +sunshine. Nothing can be more delightfully ludicrous, than the important +and emphatical air with which the herd of mankind enunciate the most +trifling observations. With much labour we are delivered of what is to +us a new thought; and, after a time, we find the same in a musty volume, +thrown by in a corner, and covered with cobwebs and dust. + +This is pleasantly ridiculed in the well known exclamation, "Deuce take +the old fellows who gave utterance to our wit, before we ever thought of +it!" + +The greater part of the life of the mightiest genius that ever existed +is spent in doing nothing, and saying nothing. Pope has observed of +Shakespear's plays, that, "had all the speeches been printed without the +names of the persons, we might have applied them with certainty to +every speaker." To which another critic has rejoined, that that was +impossible, since the greater part of what every man says is unstamped +with peculiarity. We have all more in us of what belongs to the common +nature of man, than of what is peculiar to the individual. + +It is from this beaten, turnpike road, that the favoured few of mankind +are for ever exerting themselves to escape. The multitude grow up, +and are carried away, as grass is carried away by the mower. The +parish-register tells when they were born, and when they died: "known by +the ends of being to have been." We pass away, and leave nothing behind. +Kings, at whose very glance thousands have trembled, for the most +part serve for nothing when their breath has ceased, but as a sort of +distance-posts in the race of chronology. "The dull swain treads on" +their relics "with his clouted shoon." Our monuments are as perishable +as ourselves; and it is the most hopeless of all problems for the most +part, to tell where the mighty ones of the earth repose. + +All men are aware of the frailty of life, and how short is the span +assigned us. Hence every one, who feels, or thinks he feels the power to +do so, is desirous to embalm his memory, and to be thought of by a late +posterity, to whom his personal presence shall be unknown. Mighty are +the struggles; everlasting the efforts. The greater part of these we +well know are in vain. It is Aesop's mountain in labour: "Dire was the +tossing, deep the groans:" and the result is a mouse. But is it always +so? + +This brings us back to the question: "Is there indeed nothing new under +the sun?" + +Most certainly there is something that is new. If, as the beast dies, +so died man, then indeed we should be without hope. But it is his +distinguishing faculty, that he can leave something behind, to testify +that he has lived. And this is not only true of the pyramids of Egypt, +and certain other works of human industry, that time seems to have no +force to destroy. It is often true of a single sentence, a single word, +which the multitudinous sea is incapable of washing away: + + Quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens + Possit diruere, aut innumerabilis + Annorum series, et fuga temporum. + + +It is the characteristic of the mind and the heart of man, that they are +progressive. One word, happily interposed, reaching to the inmost soul, +may "take away the heart of stone, and introduce a heart of flesh." +And, if an individual may be thus changed, then his children, and his +connections, to the latest page of unborn history. + +This is the true glory of man, that "one generation doth not pass away, +and another come, velut unda supervenit undam;" but that we leave our +improvements behind us. What infinite ages of refinement on refinement, +and ingenuity on ingenuity, seem each to have contributed its quota, to +make up the accommodations of every day of civilised man; his table, +his chair, the bed he lies on, the food he eats, the garments that cover +him! It has often been said, that the four quarters of the world are +put under contribution, to provide the most moderate table. To this +what mills, what looms, what machinery of a thousand denominations, what +ship-building, what navigation, what fleets are required! Man seems +to have been sent into the world a naked, forked, helpless animal, on +purpose to call forth his ingenuity to supply the accommodations that +may conduce to his well-being. The saying, that "there is nothing new +under the sun," could never have been struck out, but in one of the two +extreme states of man, by the naked savage, or by the highly civilised +beings among whom the perfection of refinement has produced an +artificial feeling of uniformity. + +The thing most obviously calculated to impress us with a sense of the +power, and the comparative sublimity of man, is, if we could make a +voyage of some duration in a balloon, over a considerable tract of the +cultivated and the desert parts of the earth. A brute can scarcely move +a stone out of his way, if it has fallen upon the couch where he would +repose. But man cultivates fields, and plants gardens; he constructs +parks and canals; he turns the course of rivers, and stretches vast +artificial moles into the sea; he levels mountains, and builds a bridge, +joining in giddy height one segment of the Alps to another; lastly, he +founds castles, and churches, and towers, and distributes mighty cities +at his pleasure over the face of the globe. "The first earth has passed +away, and another earth has come; and all things are made new." + +It is true, that the basest treacheries, the most atrocious cruelties, +butcheries, massacres, violations of all the restraints of decency, and +all the ties of nature, fields covered with dead bodies, and flooded +with human gore, are all of them vulgar repetitions of what had been +acted countless times already. If Nero or Caligula thought to perpetrate +that which should stand unparalleled, they fell into the grossest error. +The conqueror, who should lay waste vast portions of the globe, and +destroy mighty cities, so that "thorns should come up in the palaces, +and nettles in the fortresses thereof, and they should be a habitation +of serpents, and a court for owls, and the wild beasts of the desert +should meet there," would only do what Tamerlane, and Aurengzebe, and +Zingis, and a hundred other conquerors, in every age and quarter of the +world, had done before. The splendour of triumphs, and the magnificence +of courts, are so essentially vulgar, that history almost disdains to +record them. + +And yet there is something that is new, and that by the reader of +discernment is immediately felt to be so. + +We read of Moses, that he was a child of ordinary birth, and, when he +was born, was presently marked, as well as all the male children of his +race, for destruction. He was unexpectedly preserved; and his first act, +when he grew up, was to slay an Egyptian, one of the race to whom +all his countrymen were slaves, and to fly into exile. This man, thus +friendless and alone, in due time returned, and by the mere energy of +his character prevailed upon his whole race to make common cause with +him, and to migrate to a region, in which they should become sovereign +and independent. He had no soldiers, but what were made so by the +ascendancy of his spirit no counsellors but such as he taught to be +wise, no friends but those who were moved by the sentiment they caught +from him. The Jews he commanded were sordid and low of disposition, +perpetually murmuring against his rule, and at every unfavourable +accident calling to remembrance "the land of Egypt, where they had +sat by the fleshpots, and were full." Yet over this race he retained a +constant mastery, and finally made of them a nation whose customs and +habits and ways of thinking no time has availed to destroy. This was +a man then, that possessed the true secret to make other men his +creatures, and lead them with an irresistible power wherever he pleased. +This history, taken entire, has probably no parallel in the annals of +the world. + +The invasion of Greece by the Persians, and its result, seem to +constitute an event that stands alone among men. Xerxes led against this +little territory an army of 5,280,000 men. They drank up rivers, and +cut their way through giant-mountains. They were first stopped at +Thermopylae by Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans. They fought for +a country too narrow to contain the army by which the question was to be +tried. The contest was here to be decided between despotism and liberty, +whether there is a principle in man, by which a handful of individuals, +pervaded with lofty sentiments, and a conviction of what is of most +worth in our nature, can defy the brute force, and put to flight the +attack, of bones, joints and sinews, though congregated in multitudes, +numberless as the waves of the sea, or the sands on its shore. The flood +finally rolled back: and in process of time Alexander, with these Greeks +whom the ignorance of the East affected to despise, founded another +universal monarchy on the ruins of Persia. This is certainly no vulgar +history. + +Christianity is another of those memorable chapters in the annals of +mankind, to which there is probably no second. The son of a carpenter in +a little, rocky country, among a nation despised and enslaved, undertook +to reform the manners of the people of whom he was a citizen. The +reformation he preached was unpalatable to the leaders of the state; he +was persecuted; and finally suffered the death reserved for the lowest +malefactors, being nailed to a cross. He was cut off in the very +beginning of his career, before he had time to form a sect. His +immediate representatives and successors were tax-gatherers and +fishermen. What could be more incredible, till proved by the event, than +that a religion thus begun, should have embraced in a manner the whole +civilised world, and that of its kingdom there should be no visible end? +This is a novelty in the history of the world, equally if we consider +it as brought about by the immediate interposition of the author of all +things, or regard it, as some pretend to do, as happening in the course +of mere human events. + +Rome, "the eternal city," is likewise a subject that stands out from +the vulgar history of the human race. Three times, in three successive +forms, has she been the mistress of the world. First, by the purity, the +simplicity, the single-heartedness, the fervour and perseverance of her +original character she qualified herself to subdue all the nations +of mankind. Next, having conquered the earth by her virtue and by the +spirit of liberty, she was able to maintain her ascendancy for centuries +under the emperors, notwithstanding all her astonishing profligacy and +anarchy. And, lastly, after her secular ascendancy had been destroyed by +the inroads of the northern barbarians, she rose like the phoenix from +her ashes, and, though powerless in material force, held mankind in +subjection by the chains of the mind, and the consummateness of her +policy. Never was any thing so admirably contrived as the Catholic +religion, to subdue the souls of men by the power of its worship over +the senses, and, by its contrivances in auricular confession, +purgatory, masses for the dead, and its claim magisterially to determine +controversies, to hold the subjects it had gained in everlasting +submission. + +The great principle of originality is in the soul of man. And here again +we may recur to Greece, the parent of all that is excellent in art. +Painting, statuary, architecture, poetry, in their most exquisite and +ravishing forms, originated in this little province. Is not the Iliad a +thing new, and that will for ever remain new? Whether it was written by +one man, as I believe, or, as the levellers of human glory would have +us think, by many, there it stands: all the ages of the world present us +nothing that can come in competition with it. + +Shakespear is another example of unrivalled originality. His fame is +like the giant-rivers of the world: the further it flows, the wider it +spreads out its stream, and the more marvellous is the power with which +it sweeps along. + +But, in reality, all poetry and all art, that have a genuine claim to +originality, are new, the smallest, as well as the greatest. + +It is the mistake of dull minds only, to suppose that every thing +has been said, that human wit is exhausted, and that we, who have +unfortunately fallen upon the dregs of time, have no alternative left, +but either to be silent, or to say over and over again, what has been +well said already. + +There remain yet immense tracts of invention, the mines of which have +been untouched. We perceive nothing of the strata of earth, and the +hidden fountains of water, that we travel over, unconscious of the +treasures that are immediately within our reach, till some person, +endowed with the gift of a superior sagacity, comes into the country, +who appears to see through the opake and solid mass, as we see through +the translucent air, and tells us of things yet undiscovered, and +enriches us with treasures, of which we had been hitherto entirely +ignorant. The nature of the human mind, and the capabilities of our +species are in like manner a magazine of undiscovered things, till some +mighty genius comes to break the surface, and shew us the wonderful +treasures that lay beneath uncalled for and idle. + +Human character is like the contents of an ample cabinet, brought +together by the untired zeal of some curious collector, who tickets his +rarities with numbers, and has a catalogue in many volumes, in which are +recorded the description and qualities of the things presented to our +view. Among the most splendid examples of character which the genius +of man has brought to light, are Don Quixote and his trusty squire, sir +Roger de Coverley, Parson Adams, Walter Shandy and his brother Toby. +Who shall set bounds to the everlasting variety of nature, as she has +recorded her creations in the heart of man? Most of these instances +are recent, and sufficiently shew that the enterprising adventurer, who +would aspire to emulate the illustrious men from whose writings these +examples are drawn, has no cause to despair. + +Vulgar observers pass carelessly by a thousand figures in the crowded +masquerade of human society, which, when inscribed on the tablet by +the pencil of a master, would prove not less wondrous in the power +of affording pleasure, nor less rich as themes for inexhaustible +reflection, than the most admirable of these. The things are there, and +all that is wanting is an eye to perceive, and a pen to record them. + +As to a great degree we may subscribe to the saying of the wise man, +that "there is nothing new under the sun," so in a certain sense it +may also be affirmed that nothing is old. Both of these maxims may be +equally true. The prima materia, the atoms of which the universe is +composed, is of a date beyond all record; and the figures which have +yet been introduced into the most fantastic chronology, may perhaps be +incompetent to represent the period of its birth. But the ways in which +they may be compounded are exhaustless. It is like what the writers on +the Doctrine of Chances tell us of the throwing of dice. How many men +now exist on the face of the earth? Yet, if all these were brought +together, and if, in addition to this, we could call up all the men that +ever lived, it may be doubted, whether any two would be found so +much alike, that a clear-sighted and acute observer might not surely +distinguish the one from the other. Leibnitz informs us, that no +two leaves of a tree exist in the most spacious garden, that, upon +examination, could be pronounced perfectly similar(19). + + + (19) See above, Essay 2. + + +The true question is not, whether any thing can be found that is new, +but whether the particulars in which any thing is new may not be so +minute and trifling, as scarcely to enter for any thing, into that +grand and comprehensive view of the whole, in which matters of obvious +insignificance are of no account. + +But, if art and the invention of the human mind are exhaustless, science +is even more notoriously so. We stand but on the threshold of the +knowledge of nature, and of the various ways in which physical power may +be brought to operate for the accommodation of man. This is a business +that seems to be perpetually in progress; and, like the fall of bodies +by the power of gravitation, appears to gain in momentum, in proportion +as it advances to a greater distance from the point at which the impulse +was given. The discoveries which at no remote period have been made, +would, if prophesied of, have been laughed to scorn by the ignorant +sluggishness of former generations; and we are equally ready to regard +with incredulity the discoveries yet unmade, which will be familiar +to our posterity. Indeed every man of a capacious and liberal mind is +willing to admit, that the progress of human understanding in science, +which is now going on, is altogether without any limits that by the +most penetrating genius can be assigned. It is like a mighty river, that +flows on for ever and for ever, as far as the words, "for ever," can +have a meaning to the comprehension of mortals. The question that +remains is, our practicable improvement in literature and morals, and +here those persons who entertain a mean opinion of human nature, are +constantly ready to tell us that it will be found to amount to nothing. +However we may be continually improving in mechanical knowledge and +ingenuity, we are assured by this party, that we shall never surpass +what has already been done in poetry and literature, and, which is +still worse, that, however marvellous may be our future acquisitions in +science and the application of science, we shall be, as much as ever, +the creatures of that vanity, ostentation, opulence and the spirit of +exclusive accumulation, which has hitherto, in most countries (not in +all countries), generated the glaring inequality of property, and the +oppression of the many for the sake of pampering the folly of the few. + +There is another circumstance that may be mentioned, which, particularly +as regards the question of repetition and novelty that is now under +consideration, may seem to operate in an eminent degree in favour of +science, while it casts a most discouraging veil over poetry and the +pure growth of human fancy and invention. Poetry is, after all, nothing +more than new combinations of old materials. Nihil est in intellectu, +quod non fuit prius in sensu. The poet has perhaps in all languages been +called a maker, a creator: but this seems to be a vain-glorious and an +empty boast. He is a collector of materials only, which he afterwards +uses as best he may be able. He answers to the description I have heard +given of a tailor, a man who cuts to pieces whatever is delivered to him +from the loom, that he may afterwards sew it together again. The poet +therefore, we may be told, adds nothing to the stock of ideas and +conceptions already laid up in the storehouse of mind. But the man who +is employed upon the secrets of nature, is eternally in progress; day +after day he delivers in to the magazine of materials for thinking and +acting, what was not there before; he increases the stock, upon which +human ingenuity and the arts of life are destined to operate. He does +not, as the poet may be affirmed by his censurers to do, travel for +ever in a circle, but continues to hasten towards a goal, while at every +interval we may mark how much further he has proceeded from the point at +which his race began. + +Much may be said in answer to this, and in vindication and honour of the +poet and the artist. All that is here alleged to their disadvantage, +is in reality little better than a sophism. The consideration of the +articles he makes use of, does not in sound estimate detract from the +glories of which he is the artificer. Materiem superat opus. He changes +the nature of what he handles; all that he touches is turned into +gold. The manufacture he delivers to us is so new, that the thing it +previously was, is no longer recognisable. The impression that he makes +upon the imagination and the heart, the impulses that he communicates to +the understanding and the moral feeling, are all his own; and, "if there +is any thing lovely and of good report, if there is any virtue and any +praise," he may well claim our applauses and our thankfulness for what +he has effected. + +There is a still further advantage that belongs to the poet and the +votarist of polite literature, which ought to be mentioned, as strongly +calculated to repress the arrogance of the men of science, and the +supercilious contempt they are apt to express for those who are +engrossed by the pursuits of imagination and taste. They are for ever +talking of the reality and progressiveness of their pursuits, and +telling us that every step they take is a point gained, and gained for +the latest posterity, while the poet merely suits himself to the taste +of the men among whom he lives, writes up to the fashion of the day, +and, as our manners turn, is sure to be swept away to the gulph of +oblivion. But how does the matter really stand? It is to a great degree +the very reverse of this. + +The natural and experimental philosopher has nothing sacred and +indestructible in the language and form in which he delivers truths. New +discoveries and experiments come, and his individual terms and phrases +and theories perish. One race of natural philosophers does but prepare +the way for another race, which is to succeed. They "blow the trumpet, +and give out the play." And they must be contented to perish before the +brighter knowledge, of which their efforts were but the harbingers. The +Ptolemaic system gave way to Tycho Brahe, and his to that of Copernicus. +The vortices of Descartes perished before the discoveries of Newton; +and the philosophy of Newton already begins to grow old, and is found +to have weak and decaying parts mixed with those which are immortal and +divine. In the science of mind Aristotle and Plato are set aside; the +depth of Malebranche, and the patient investigation of Locke have had +their day; more penetrating, and concise, and lynx-eyed reasoners of +our own country have succeeded; the German metaphysicians seem to have +thrust these aside; and it perhaps needs no great degree of sagacity +to foresee, that Kant and Fichte will at last fare no better than those +that went before them. + +But the poet is immortal. The verses of Homer are of workmanship no less +divine, than the armour of his own Achilles. His poems are as fresh and +consummate to us now, as they were to the Greeks, when the old man of +Chios wandered in person through the different cities, rehearsing +his rhapsodies to the accompaniment of his lute. The language and the +thoughts of the poet are inextricably woven together; and the first +is no more exposed to decay and to perish than the last. Presumptuous +innovators have attempted to modernise Chaucer, and Spenser, and other +authors, whose style was supposed to have grown obsolete. But true taste +cannot endure the impious mockery. The very words that occurred to these +men, when the God descended, and a fire from heaven tingled in all their +veins, are sacred, are part of themselves; and you may as well attempt +to preserve the man when you have deprived him of all his members, as +think to preserve the poet when you have taken away the words that he +spoke. No part of his glorious effusions must perish; and "the hairs of +his head are all numbered." + + + + +ESSAY XI. OF SELF-LOVE AND BENEVOLENCE. + +NO question has more memorably exercised the ingenuity of men who +have speculated upon the structure of the human mind, than that of +the motives by which we are actuated in our intercourse with our +fellow-creatures. The dictates of a plain and unsophisticated +understanding on the subject are manifest; and they have been asserted +in the broadest way by the authors of religion, the reformers of +mankind, and all persons who have been penetrated with zeal and +enthusiasm for the true interests of the race to which they belong. + +"The end of the commandment," say the authors of the New Testament, "is +love." "This is the great commandment of the law, Thou shalt love thy +maker with all thy heart; and the second is like unto it, Thou shalt +love thy neighbour as thyself." "Though I bestow all my goods to feed +the poor, and give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth +me nothing." "For none of us liveth to himself; and no man dieth to +himself." + +The sentiments of the ancient Greeks and Romans, for so many centuries +as their institutions retained their original purity, were cast in a +mould of a similar nature. A Spartan was seldom alone; they were always +in society with each other. The love of their country and of the public +good was their predominant passion, they did not imagine that they +belonged to themselves, but to the state. After the battle of Leuctra, +in which the Spartans were defeated by the Thebans, the mothers of those +who were slain congratulated one another, and went to the temples to +thank the Gods, that their children had done their duty; while the +relations of those who survived the defeat were inconsolable. + +The Romans were not less distinguished by their self-denying patriotism. +It was in this spirit that Brutus put his two sons to death for +conspiring against their country. It was in this spirit that the Fabii +perished at their fort on the Cremera, and the Decii devoted themselves +for the public. The rigour of self-denial in a true Roman approached to +a temper which moderns are inclined to denominate savage. + +In the times of the ancient republics the impulse of the citizens was to +merge their own individuality in the interests of the state. They held +it their duty to live but for their country. In this spirit they were +educated; and the lessons of their early youth regulated the conduct of +their riper years. + +In a more recent period we have learned to model our characters by a +different standard. We seldom recollect the society of which we are +politically members, as a whole, but are broken into detached parties, +thinking only for the most part of ourselves and our immediate +connections and attachments. + +This change in the sentiments and manners of modern times has among its +other consequences given birth to a new species of philosophy. We have +been taught to affirm, that we can have no express and pure regard for +our fellow-creatures, but that all our benevolence and affection come to +us through the strainers of a gross or a refined self-love. The coarser +adherents of this doctrine maintain, that mankind are in all cases +guided by views of the narrowest self-interest, and that those who +advance the highest claims to philanthropy, patriotism, generosity +and self-sacrifice, are all the time deceiving others, or deceiving +themselves, and use a plausible and high-sounding language merely, that +serves no other purpose than to veil from observation "that hideous +sight, a naked human heart." + +The more delicate and fastidious supporters of the doctrine of universal +self-love, take a different ground. They affirm that "such persons +as talk to us of disinterestedness and pure benevolence, have not +considered with sufficient accuracy the nature of mind, feeling and +will. To understand," they say, "is one thing, and to choose another." +The clearest proposition that ever was stated, has, in itself, no +tendency to produce voluntary action on the part of the percipient. It +can be only something apprehended as agreeable or disagreeable to +us, that can operate so as to determine the will. Such is the law +of universal nature. We act from the impulse of our own desires and +aversions; and we seek to effect or avert a thing, merely because it is +viewed by us as an object of gratification or the contrary. + +The virtuous man and the vicious are alike governed by the same +principle; and it is therefore the proper business of a wise instructor +of youth, and of a man who would bring his own sentiments and feelings +into the most praise-worthy frame, to teach us to find our interest and +gratification in that which shall be most beneficial to others." + +When we proceed to examine the truth of these statements, it certainly +is not strictly an argument to say, that the advocate of self-love +on either of these hypotheses cannot consistently be a believer in +Christianity, or even a theist, as theism is ordinarily understood. The +commandments of the author of the Christian religion are, as we have +seen, purely disinterested: and, especially if we admit the latter of +the two explanations of self-love, we shall be obliged to confess, on +the hypothesis of this new philosophy, that the almighty author of +the universe never acts in any of his designs either of creation or +providence, but from a principle of self-love. In the mean time, if +this is not strictly an argument, it is however but fair to warn the +adherents of the doctrine I oppose, of the consequences to which their +theory leads. It is my purpose to subvert that doctrine by means of +the severest demonstration; but I am not unwilling, before I begin, +to conciliate, as far as may be, the good-will of my readers to the +propositions I proceed to establish. + +I will therefore further venture to add, that, upon the hypothesis +of self-love, there can be no such thing as virtue. There are two +circumstances required, to entitle an action to be denominated virtuous. +It must have a tendency to produce good rather than evil to the race +of man, and it must have been generated by an intention to produce such +good. The most beneficent action that ever was performed, if it did not +spring from the intention of good to others, is not of the nature +of virtue. Virtue, where it exists in any eminence, is a species of +conduct, modelled upon a true estimate of the good intended to be +produced. He that makes a false estimate, and prefers a trivial and +partial good to an important and comprehensive one, is vicious(20). + + + (20) Political Justice, Book 11, Chap. IV. + + +It is admitted on all hands, that it is possible for a man to sacrifice +his own existence to that of twenty others. But the advocates of the +doctrine of self-love must say, that he does this that he may escape +from uneasiness, and because he could not bear to encounter the inward +upbraiding with which he would be visited, if he acted otherwise. This +in reality would change his action from an act of virtue to an act +of vice. So far as belongs to the real merits of the case, his own +advantage or pleasure is a very insignificant consideration, and the +benefit to be produced, suppose to a world, is inestimable. Yet he +falsely and unjustly prefers the first, and views the latter as trivial; +nay, separately taken, as not entitled to the smallest regard. If the +dictates of impartial justice be taken into the account, then, according +to the system of self-love, the best action that ever was performed, +may, for any thing we know, have been the action, in the whole world, of +the most exquisite and deliberate injustice. Nay, it could not have been +otherwise, since it produced the greatest good, and therefore was +the individual instance, in which the greatest good was most directly +postponed to personal gratification(21). Such is the spirit of the +doctrine I undertake to refute. + + + (21) Political Justice, Book IV, Chap. X. + + +But man is not in truth so poor and pusillanimous a creature as this +system would represent. + +It is time however to proceed to the real merits of the question, to +examine what in fact is the motive which induces a good man to elect a +generous mode of proceeding. + +Locke is the philosopher, who, in writing on Human Understanding, has +specially delivered the doctrine, that uneasiness is the cause which +determines the will, and urges us to act. He says(22), "The motive we +have for continuing in the same state, is only the present satisfaction +we feel in it; the motive to change is always some uneasiness: nothing +setting us upon the change of state, or upon any new action, but some +uneasiness. This is the great motive that works on the mind." + + + (22) Book II, Chap. XXI, Sect. 29. + + +It is not my concern to enquire, whether Locke by this statement meant +to assert that self-love is the only principle of human action. It has +at any rate been taken to express the doctrine which I here propose to +refute. + +And, in the first place, I say, that, if our business is to discover +the consideration entertained by the mind which induces us to act, this +tells us nothing. It is like the case of the Indian philosopher(23), +who, being asked what it was that kept the earth in its place, answered, +that it was supported by an elephant, and that elephant again rested on +a tortoise. He must be endowed with a slender portion of curiosity, who, +being told that uneasiness is that which spurs on the mind to act, shall +rest satisfied with this explanation, and does not proceed to enquire, +what makes us uneasy? + + + (23) Locke on Understanding, Book 11, Chap. XIII, Sect. 19. + + +An explanation like this is no more instructive, than it would be, if, +when we saw a man walking, or grasping a sword or a bludgeon, and we +enquired into the cause of this phenomenon, any one should inform us +that he walks, because he has feet, and he grasps, because he has hands. + +I could not commodiously give to my thoughts their present form, unless +I had been previously furnished with pens and paper. But it would be +absurd to say, that my being furnished with pens and paper, is the cause +of my writing this Essay on Self-love and Benevolence. + +The advocates of self-love have, very inartificially and unjustly, +substituted the abstract definition of a voluntary agent, and made that +stand for the motive by which he is prompted to act. It is true, that +we cannot act without the impulse of desire or uneasiness; but we do not +think of that desire and uneasiness; and it is the thing upon which the +mind is fixed that constitutes our motive. In the boundless variety of +the acts, passions and pursuits of human beings, it is absurd on the +face of it to say that we are all governed by one motive, and that, +however dissimilar are the ends we pursue, all this dissimilarity is the +fruit of a single cause. + +One man chooses travelling, another ambition, a third study, a fourth +voluptuousness and a mistress. Why do these men take so different +courses? + +Because one is partial to new scenes, new buildings, new manners, +and the study of character. Because a second is attracted by the +contemplation of wealth and power. Because a third feels a decided +preference for the works of Homer, or Shakespear, or Bacon, or Euclid. +Because a fourth finds nothing calculated to stir his mind in comparison +with female beauty, female allurements, or expensive living. + +Each of these finds the qualities he likes, intrinsically in the thing +he chooses. One man feels himself strongly moved, and raised to extacy, +by the beauties of nature, or the magnificence of architecture. Another +is ravished with the divine excellencies of Homer, or of some other of +the heroes of literature. A third finds nothing delights him so much +as the happiness of others, the beholding that happiness increased, and +seeing pain and oppression and sorrow put to flight. The cause of these +differences is, that each man has an individual internal structure, +directing his partialities, one man to one thing, and another to +another. + +Few things can exceed the characters of human beings in variety. There +must be something abstractedly in the nature of mind, which renders it +accessible to these varieties. For the present we will call it taste. +One man feels his spirits regaled with the sight of those things which +constitute wealth, another in meditating the triumphs of Alexander or +Caesar, and a third in viewing the galleries of the Louvre. Not one of +these thinks in the outset of appropriating these objects to himself; +not one of them begins with aspiring to be the possessor of vast +opulence, or emulating the triumphs of Caesar, or obtaining in property +the pictures and statues the sight of which affords him so exquisite +delight. Even the admirer of female beauty, does not at first think of +converting this attractive object into a mistress, but on the contrary +desires, like Pygmalion, that the figure he beholds might become his +solace and companion, because he had previously admired it for itself. + +Just so the benevolent man is an individual who finds a peculiar delight +in contemplating the contentment, the peace and heart's ease of other +men, and sympathises in no ordinary degree with their sufferings. He +rejoices in the existence and diffusion of human happiness, though he +should not have had the smallest share in giving birth to the thing he +loves. It is because such are his tastes, and what above all things he +prefers, that he afterwards becomes distinguished by the benevolence of +his conduct. + +The reflex act of the mind, which these new philosophers put forward as +the solution of all human pursuits, rarely presents itself but to the +speculative enquirer in his closet. The savage never dreams of it. The +active man, engaged in the busy scenes of life, thinks little, and on +rare occasions of himself, but much, and in a manner for ever, of the +objects of his pursuit. + +Some men are uniform in their character, and from the cradle to the +grave prefer the same objects that first awakened their partialities. +Other men are inconsistent and given to change, are "every thing by +starts, and nothing long." Still it is probable that, in most cases, +he who performs an act of benevolence, feels for the time that he has a +peculiar delight in contemplating the good of his fellow-man. + +The doctrine of the modern philosophers on this point, is in many ways +imbecil and unsound. It is inauspicious to their creed, that the +reflex act of the mind is purely the affair of experience. Why did the +liberal-minded man perform his first act of benevolence? The answer of +these persons ought to be, because the recollection of a generous deed +is a source of the truest delight. But there is an absurdity on the face +of this solution. + +We do not experimentally know the delight which attends the recollection +of a generous deed, till a generous deed has been performed by us. We do +not learn these things from books. And least of all is this solution +to the purpose, when the business is to find a solution that suits the +human mind universally, the unlearned as well as the learned, the savage +as well as the sage. + +And surely it is inconsistent with all sound reasoning, to represent +that as the sole spring of our benevolent actions, which by the very +terms will not fit the first benevolent act in which any man engaged. + +The advocates of the doctrine of "self-love the source of all our +actions," are still more puzzled, when the case set before them is that +of the man, who flies, at an instant's warning, to save the life of the +child who has fallen into the river, or the unfortunate whom he +beholds in the upper story of a house in flames. This man, as might +be illustrated in a thousand instances, treats his own existence as +unworthy of notice, and exposes it to multiplied risks to effect the +object to which he devotes himself. + +They are obliged to say, that this man anticipates the joy he will feel +in the recollection of a noble act, and the cutting and intolerable pain +he will experience in the consciousness that a human being has perished, +whom it was in his power to save. It is in vain that we tell them that, +without a moment's consideration, he tore off his clothes, or plunged +into the stream with his clothes on, or rushed up a flaming stair-case. +Still they tell us, that he recollected what compunctious visitings +would be his lot if he remained supine--he felt the sharpest uneasiness +at sight of the accident before him, and it was to get rid of that +uneasiness, and not for the smallest regard to the unhappy being he has +been the means to save, that he entered on the hazardous undertaking. + +Uneasiness, the knowledge of what inwardly passes in the mind, is a +thing not in the slightest degree adverted to but in an interval of +leisure. No; the man here spoken of thinks of nothing but the object +immediately before his eyes; he adverts not at all to himself; he acts +only with an undeveloped, confused and hurried consciousness that he may +be of some use, and may avert the instantly impending calamity. He has +scarcely even so much reflection as amounts to this. + +The history of man, whether national or individual, and consequently the +acts of human creatures which it describes, are cast in another mould +than that which the philosophy of self-love sets before us. A topic that +from the earliest accounts perpetually presents itself in the records +of mankind, is self-sacrifice, parents sacrificing themselves for their +children, and children for their parents. Cimon, the Athenian, yet in +the flower of his youth, voluntarily became the inmate of a prison, that +the body of his father might receive the honours of sepulture. Various +and unquestionable are the examples of persons who have exposed +themselves to destruction, and even petitioned to die, that so they +might save the lives of those, whose lives they held dearer than their +own. Life is indeed a thing, that is notoriously set at nothing by +generous souls, who have fervently devoted themselves to an overwhelming +purpose. There have been instances of persons, exposed to all the +horrors of famine, where one has determined to perish by that slowest +and most humiliating of all the modes of animal destruction, that +another, dearer to him than life itself, might, if possible, be +preserved. + +What is the true explanation of these determinations of the human will? +Is it, that the person, thus consigning himself to death, loved nothing +but himself, regarded only the pleasure he might reap, or the uneasiness +he was eager to avoid? Or, is it, that he had arrived at the exalted +point of self-oblivion, and that his whole soul was penetrated and +ingrossed with the love of those for whom he conceived so exalted a +partiality? + +This sentiment so truly forms a part of our nature, that a multitude +of absurd practices, and a multitude of heart-rending fables, have been +founded upon the consciousness of man in different ages and nations, +that these modes of thinking form a constituent part of our common +existence. In India there was found a woman, whose love to the deceased +partner of her soul was so overwhelming, that she resolved voluntarily +to perish on his funeral pile. And this example became so fascinating +and admirable, that, by insensible degrees, it grew into a national +custom with the Hindoos, that, by a sort of voluntary constraint, the +widows of all men of a certain caste, should consign themselves to the +flames with the dead bodies of their husbands. The story of Zopyrus +cutting off his nose and ears, and of Curtius leaping into the gulph, +may be fictitious: but it was the consciousness of those by whom these +narratives were written that they drew their materials from the mighty +store-house of the heart of man, that prompted them to record them. +The institutions of clientship and clans, so extensively diffused in +different ages of the world, rests upon this characteristic of our +nature, that multitudes of men may be trained and educated so, as to +hold their existence at no price, when the life of the individual they +were taught unlimitedly to reverence might be preserved, or might be +defended at the risk of their destruction. + +The principal circumstance that divides our feelings for others from +our feelings for ourselves, and that gives, to satirical observers, and +superficial thinkers, an air of exclusive selfishness to the human +mind, lies in this, that we can fly from others, but cannot fly from +ourselves. While I am sitting by the bed-side of the sufferer, while +I am listening to the tale of his woes, there is comparatively but a +slight line of demarcation, whether they are his sorrows or my own. My +sympathy is vehemently excited towards him, and I feel his twinges and +anguish in a most painful degree. But I can quit his apartment and the +house in which he dwells, can go out in the fields, and feel the fresh +air of heaven fanning my hair, and playing upon my cheeks. This is at +first but a very imperfect relief. His image follows me; I cannot forget +what I have heard and seen; I even reproach myself for the mitigation +I involuntarily experience. But man is the creature of his senses. I am +every moment further removed, both in time and place, from the object +that distressed me. There he still lies upon the bed of agony: but +the sound of his complaint, and the sight of all that expresses his +suffering, are no longer before me. A short experience of human life +convinces us that we have this remedy always at hand ("I am unhappy, +only while I please")(24); and we soon come therefore to anticipate the +cure, and so, even while we are in the presence of the sufferer, to feel +that he and ourselves are not perfectly one. + + + (24) Douglas. + + +But with our own distempers and adversities it is altogether different. +It is this that barbs the arrow. We may change the place of our local +existence; but we cannot go away from ourselves. With chariots, and +embarking ourselves on board of ships, we may seek to escape from the +enemy. But grief and apprehension enter the vessel along with us; and, +when we mount on horseback, the discontent that specially annoyed +us, gets up behind, and clings to our sides with a hold never to be +loosened(25). + + + (25) Horace. + + +Is it then indeed a proof of selfishness, that we are in a greater or +less degree relieved from the anguish we endured for our friend, when +other objects occupy us, and we are no longer the witnesses of his +sufferings? If this were true, the same argument would irresistibly +prove, that we are the most generous of imaginable beings, the most +disregardful of whatever relates to ourselves. Is it not the first +ejaculation of the miserable, "Oh, that I could fly from myself? Oh, +for a thick, substantial sleep!" What the desperate man hates is his own +identity. But he knows that, if for a few moments he loses himself in +forgetfulness, he will presently awake to all that distracted him. He +knows that he must act his part to the end, and drink the bitter cup +to the dregs. He can do none of these things by proxy. It is the +consciousness of the indubitable future, from which we can never be +divorced, that gives to our present calamity its most fearful empire. +Were it not for this great line of distinction, there are many that +would feel not less for their friend than for themselves. But they are +aware, that his ruin will not make them beggars, his mortal disease will +not bring them to the tomb, and that, when he is dead, they may yet be +reserved for many years of health, of consciousness and vigour. + +The language of the hypothesis of self-love was well adapted to +the courtiers of the reign of Louis the Fourteenth. The language of +disinterestedness was adapted to the ancient republicans in the purest +times of Sparta and Rome. + +But these ancients were not always disinterested; and the moderns are +not always narrow, self-centred and cold. The ancients paid, though with +comparative infrequency, the tax imposed upon mortals, and thought +of their own gratification and ease; and the moderns are not utterly +disqualified for acts of heroic affection. + +It is of great consequence that men should come to think correctly on +this subject. The most snail-blooded man that exists, is not so selfish +as he pretends to be. In spite of all the indifference he professes +towards the good of others, he will sometimes be detected in a very +heretical state of sensibility towards his wife, his child or his +friend; he will shed tears at a tale of distress, and make considerable +sacrifices of his own gratification for the relief of others. + +But his creed is a pernicious one. He who for ever thinks, that +his "charity must begin at home," is in great danger of becoming an +indifferent citizen, and of withering those feelings of philanthropy, +which in all sound estimation constitute the crowning glory of man. He +will perhaps have a reasonable affection towards what he calls his own +flesh and blood, and may assist even a stranger in a case of urgent +distress.--But it is dangerous to trifle with the first principles and +sentiments of morality. And this man will scarcely in any case have his +mind prepared to hail the first dawnings of human improvement, and to +regard all that belongs to the welfare of his kind as parcel of his own +particular estate. + +The creed of self-love will always have a tendency to make us Frenchmen +in the frivolous part of that character, and Dutchmen in the plodding +and shopkeeping spirit of barter and sale. There is no need that we +should beat down the impulse of heroism in the human character, and +be upon our guard against the effervescences and excess of a generous +sentiment. One of the instructors of my youth was accustomed to say to +his pupils, "Do not be afraid to commit your thoughts to paper in all +the fervour and glow of your first conception: when you come to look at +them the next day, you will find this gone off to a surprising degree." +As this was no ill precept for literary composition, even so in our +actions and moral conduct we shall be in small danger of being too +warm-hearted and too generous. + +Modern improvements in education are earnest in recommending to us the +study of facts, and that we should not waste the time of young persons +upon the flights of imagination. But it is to imagination that we +are indebted for our highest enjoyments; it tames the ruggedness of +uncivilised nature, and is the never-failing associate of all the +considerable advances of social man, whether in throwing down the strong +fences of intellectual slavery, or in giving firmness and duration to +the edifice of political freedom. + +And who does not feel that every thing depends upon the creed we +embrace, and the discipline we exercise over our own souls? + +The disciple of the theory of self-love, if of a liberal disposition, +will perpetually whip himself forward "with loose reins," upon a +spiritless Pegasus, and say, "I will do generous things; I will not +bring into contempt the master I serve--though I am conscious all +the while that this is but a delusion, and that, however I brag of +generosity, I do not set a step forward, but singly for my own ends, +and my own gratification." Meanwhile, this is all a forced condition of +thought; and the man who cherishes it, will be perpetually falling back +into the cold, heartless convictions he inwardly retains. Self-love is +the unwholesome, infectious atmosphere in which he dwells; and, however +he may seek to rise, the wings of his soul will eternally be drawn +downwards, and he cannot be pervaded, as he might have been, with +the free spirit of genuine philanthropy. To be consistent, he ought +continually to grow colder and colder; and the romance, which fired his +youth, and made him forget the venomous potion he had swallowed, +will fade away in age, rendering him careless of all but himself, and +indifferent to the adversity and sufferings of all of whom he hears, and +all with whom he is connected. + +On the other hand, the man who has embraced the creed of disinterested +benevolence, will know that it is not his fitting element to "live for +himself, or to die for himself." Whether he is under the dominion of +family-affection, friendship, patriotism, or a zeal for his brethren +of mankind, he will feel that he is at home. The generous man therefore +looks forward to the time when the chilling and wretched philosophy +of the reign of Louis the Fourteenth shall be forgotten, and a fervent +desire for the happiness and improvement of the human species shall +reign in all hearts. + +I am not especially desirous of sheltering my opinions under the +authority of great names: but, in a question of such vital importance +to the true welfare of men in society, no fair advantage should be +neglected. The author of the system of "self-love the source of all +our actions" was La Rochefoucault; and the whole herd of the French +philosophers have not been ashamed to follow in the train of their +vaunted master. I am grieved to say, that, as I think, the majority of +my refining and subtilising countrymen of the present day have enlisted +under his banner. But the more noble and generous view of the subject +has been powerfully supported by Shaftesbury, Butler, Hutcheson and +Hume. On the last of these I particularly pique myself; inasmuch as, +though he became naturalised as a Frenchman in a vast variety of topics, +the greatness of his intellectual powers exempted him from degradation +in this. + +That however which I would chiefly urge in the way of authority, is the +thing mentioned in the beginning of this Essay, I mean, the sentiments +that have animated the authors of religion, that characterise the best +ages of Greece and Rome, and that in all cases display themselves when +the loftiest and most generous sentiments of the heart are called into +action. The opposite creed could only have been engendered in the dregs +of a corrupt and emasculated court; and human nature will never shew +itself what it is capable of being, till the last remains of a doctrine, +invented in the latter part of the seventeenth century, shall have been +consigned to the execration they deserve. + + + + +ESSAY XII. OF THE LIBERTY OF HUMAN ACTIONS. + +The question, which has been attended with so long and obstinate +debates, concerning the metaphysical doctrines of liberty and +necessity, and the freedom of human actions, is not even yet finally and +satisfactorily settled. + +The negative is made out by an argument which seems to amount to +demonstration, that every event requires a cause, a cause why it is as +it is and not otherwise, that the human will is guided by motives, and +is consequently always ruled by the strongest motive, and that we can +never choose any thing, either without a motive of preference, or in the +way of following the weaker, and deserting the stronger motive(26). + + + (26) Political Justice, Book IV, Chap. VII. + + +Why is it then that disbelief or doubt should still subsist in a +question so fully decided? + +For the same reason that compels us to reject many other demonstrations. +The human mind is so constituted as to oblige us, if not theoretically, +at least practically, to reject demonstration, and adhere to our senses. + +The case is thus in the great question of the non-existence of an +external world, or of matter. How ever much the understanding may be +satisfied of the truth of the proposition by the arguments of Berkeley +and others, we no sooner go out into actual life, than we become +convinced, in spite of our previous scepticism or unbelief, of the real +existence of the table, the chair, and the objects around us, and of the +permanence and reality of the persons, both body and mind, with whom we +have intercourse. If we were not, we should soon become indifferent to +their pleasure and pain, and in no long time reason ourselves into the +opinion that the one was not more desirable than the other, and conduct +ourselves accordingly. + +But there is a great difference between the question of a material +world, and the question of liberty and necessity. The most strenuous +Berkleian can never say, that there is any contradiction or +impossibility in the existence of matter. All that he can consistently +and soberly maintain is, that, if the material world exists, we can +never perceive it, and that our sensations, and trains of impressions +and thinking go on wholly independent of that existence. + +But the question of the freedom of human actions is totally of another +class. To say that in our choice we reject the stronger motive, and that +we choose a thing merely because we choose it, is sheer nonsense and +absurdity; and whoever with a sound understanding will fix his mind upon +the state of the question will perceive its impossibility. + +In the mean time it is not less true, that every man, the necessarian as +well as his opponent, acts on the assumption of human liberty, and can +never for a moment, when he enters into the scenes of real life, divest +himself of this persuasion. + +Let us take separately into our consideration the laws of matter and +of mind. We acknowledge generally in both an established order of +antecedents and consequents, or of causes and effects. This is the +sole foundation of human prudence and of all morality. It is because we +foresee that certain effects will follow from a certain mode of conduct, +that we act in one way rather than another. It is because we foresee +that, if the soil is prepared in a certain way, and if seed is properly +scattered and covered up in the soil thus prepared, a crop will follow, +that we engage in the labours of agriculture. In the same manner, it +is because we foresee that, if lessons are properly given, and a young +person has them clearly explained to him, certain benefits will result, +and because we are apprised of the operation of persuasion, admonition, +remonstrance, menace, punishment and reward, that we engage in the +labours of education. All the studies of the natural philosopher and the +chemist, all our journeys by land and our voyages by sea, and all the +systems and science of government, are built upon this principle, that +from a certain method of proceeding, regulated by the precepts of wisdom +and experience, certain effects may be expected to follow. + +Yet, at the same time that we admit of a regular series of cause and +effect in the operations both of matter and mind, we never fail, in our +reflections upon each, to ascribe to them an essential difference. In +the laws by which a falling body descends to the earth, and by which the +planets are retained in their orbits, in a word, in all that relates to +inanimate nature, we readily assent to the existence of absolute laws, +so that, when we have once ascertained the fundamental principles +of astronomy and physics, we rely with perfect assurance upon the +invariable operation of these laws, yesterday, to-day, and for ever. As +long as the system of things, of which we are spectators, and in +which we act our several parts, shall remain, so long have the general +phenomena of nature gone on unchanged for more years of past ages than +we can define, and will in all probability continue to operate for as +many ages to come. We admit of no variation, but firmly believe that, +if we were perfectly acquainted with all the causes, we could, without +danger of error, predict all the effects. We are satisfied that, +since first the machine of the universe was set going, every thing in +inanimate nature has taken place in a regular course, and nothing has +happened and can happen, otherwise than as it actually has been and will +be. + +But we believe, or, more accurately speaking, we feel, that it is +otherwise in the universe of mind. Whoever attentively observes the +phenomena of thinking and sentient beings, will be convinced, that men +and animals are under the influence of motives, that we are subject +to the predominance of the passions, of love and hatred, of desire +and aversion, of sorrow and joy, and that the elections we make are +regulated by impressions supplied to us by these passions. But we are +fully penetrated with the notion, that mind is an arbiter, that it sits +on its throne, and decides, as an absolute prince, this may or that; +in short, that, while inanimate nature proceeds passively in an eternal +chain of cause and effect, mind is endowed with an initiating power, and +forms its determinations by an inherent and indefeasible prerogative. + +Hence arises the idea of contingency relative to the acts of living and +sentient beings, and the opinion that, while, in the universe of matter, +every thing proceeds in regular course, and nothing has happened or +can happen, otherwise than as it actually has been or will be, in the +determinations and acts of living beings each occurrence may be or not +be, and waits the mastery of mind to decide whether the event shall +be one way or the other, both issues being equally possible till that +decision has been made. + +Thus, as was said in the beginning, we have demonstration, all the +powers of our reasoning faculty, on one side, and the feeling, of our +minds, an inward persuasion of which with all our efforts we can never +divest ourselves, on the other. This phenomenon in the history of every +human creature, had aptly enough been denominated, the "delusive sense +of liberty(27)." + + + (27) The first writer, by whom this proposition was distinctly +enunciated, seems to have been Lord Kaimes, in his Essays on the +Principles of Morality and Natural Religion, published in 1751. But this +ingenious author was afterwards frightened with the boldness of his +own conclusions, and in the subsequent editions of his work endeavoured +ineffectually to explain away what he had said. + + +And, though the philosopher in his closet will for the most part fully +assent to the doctrine of the necessity of human actions, yet this +indestructible feeling of liberty, which accompanies us from the cradle +to the grave, is entitled to our serious attention, and has never +obtained that consideration from the speculative part of mankind, +which must by no means be withheld, if we would properly enter into +the mysteries of our nature. The necessarian has paid it very imperfect +attention to the impulses which form the character of man, if he +omits this chapter in the history of mind, while on the other hand the +advocate of free will, if he would follow up his doctrine rigorously +into all its consequences, would render all speculations on human +character and conduct superfluous, put an end to the system of +persuasion, admonition, remonstrance, menace, punishment and reward, +annihilate the very essence of civil government, and bring to a close +all distinction between the sane person and the maniac. + +With the disciples of the latter of these doctrines I am by no means +specially concerned. I am fully persuaded, as far as the powers of my +understanding can carry me, that the phenomena of mind are governed by +laws altogether as inevitable as the phenomena of matter, and that the +decisions of our will are always in obedience to the impulse of the +strongest motive. + +The consequences of the principle implanted in our nature, by which men +of every creed, when they descend into the scene of busy life, pronounce +themselves and their fellow-mortals to be free agents, are sufficiently +memorable. + +From hence there springs what we call conscience in man, and a sense of +praise or blame due to ourselves and others for the actions we perform. + +How poor, listless and unenergetic would all our performances be, +but for this sentiment! It is in vain that I should talk to myself or +others, of the necessity of human actions, of the connection between +cause and effect, that all industry, study and mental discipline will +turn to account, and this with infinitely more security on the principle +of necessity, than on the opposite doctrine, every thing I did would +be without a soul. I should still say, Whatever I may do, whether it be +right or wrong, I cannot help it; wherefore then should I trouble +the master-spirit within me? It is either the calm feeling of +self-approbation, or the more animated swell of the soul, the quick +beatings of the pulse, the enlargement of the heart, the glory sparkling +in the eye, and the blood flushing into the cheek, that sustains me in +all my labours. This turns the man into what we conceive of a God, arms +him with prowess, gives him a more than human courage, and inspires him +with a resolution and perseverance that nothing can subdue. + +In the same manner the love or hatred, affection or alienation, we +entertain for our fellow-men, is mainly referable for its foundation +to the "delusive sense of liberty." "We approve of a sharp knife rather +than a blunt one, because its capacity is greater. We approve of its +being employed in carving food, rather than in maiming men or other +animals, because that application of its capacity is preferable. But +all approbation or preference is relative to utility or general good. A +knife is as capable as a man, of being employed in purposes of utility; +and the one is no more free than the other as to its employment. The +mode in which a knife is made subservient to these purposes, is by +material impulse. The mode in which a man is made subservient, is +by inducement and persuasion. But both are equally the affair of +necessity(28)." These are the sentiments dictated to us by the doctrine +of the necessity of human actions. + + + (28) Political Justice, Book IV, Chap. VIII. + + +But how different are the feelings that arise within us, as soon as +we enter into the society of our fellow-creatures! "The end of the +commandment is love." It is the going forth of the heart towards those +to whom we are bound by the ties of a common nature, affinity, sympathy +or worth, that is the luminary of the moral world. Without it there +would have been "a huge eclipse of sun and moon;" or at best, as a +well-known writer(29) expresses it in reference to another subject, +we should have lived in "a silent and drab-coloured creation." We are +prepared by the power that made us for feelings and emotions; and, +unless these come to diversify and elevate our existence, we should +waste our days in melancholy, and scarcely be able to sustain ourselves. +The affection we entertain for those towards whom our partiality and +kindness are excited, is the life of our life. It is to this we are +indebted for all our refinement, and, in the noblest sense of the word, +for all our humanity. Without it we should have had no sentiment (a +word, however abused, which, when properly defined, comprises every +thing that is the crown of our nature), and no poetry.--Love and +hatred, as they regard our fellow-creatures, in contradistinction to the +complacency, or the feeling of an opposite nature, which is excited in +us towards inanimate objects, are entirely the offspring of the delusive +sense of liberty. + + + (29) Thomas Paine. + + +The terms, praise and blame, express to a great degree the same +sentiments as those of love and hatred, with this difference, that +praise and blame in their simplest sense apply to single actions, +whereas love and hatred are produced in us by the sum of those actions +or tendencies, which constitute what we call character. There is also +another difference, that love and hatred are engendered in us by other +causes as well as moral qualities; but praise and blame, in the sense in +which they are peculiarly applied to our fellow-mortals, are founded on +moral qualities only. In love and hatred however, when they are intense +or are lasting, some reference to moral qualities is perhaps necessarily +implied. The love between the sexes, unless in cases where it is of a +peculiarly transient nature, always comprises in it a belief that the +party who is the object of our love, is distinguished by tendencies +of an amiable nature, which we expect to see manifesting themselves in +affectionate attentions and acts of kindness. Even the admiration we +entertain for the features, the figure, and personal graces of the +object of our regard, is mixed with and heightened by our expectation of +actions and tones that generate approbation, and, if divested of this, +would be of small signification or permanence. In like manner in +the ties of affinity, or in cases where we are impelled by the +consideration, "He also is a man as well as I," the excitement will +carry us but a little way, unless we discover in the being towards whom +we are moved some peculiarities which may beget a moral partiality and +regard. + +And, as towards our fellow-creatures, so in relation to ourselves, our +moral sentiments are all involved with, and take their rise in, the +delusive sense of liberty. It is in this that is contained the peculiar +force of the terms virtue, duty, guilt and desert. We never pronounce +these words without thinking of the action to which they refer, as that +which might or might not be done, and therefore unequivocally approve +or disapprove in ourselves and others. A virtuous man, as the term +is understood by all, as soon as we are led to observe upon those +qualities, and the exhibition of those qualities in actual life, which +constitute our nature, is a man who, being in full possession of the +freedom of human action, is engaged in doing those things which a sound +judgment of the tendencies of what we do pronounces to be good. + +Duty is a term that can scarcely be said to have a meaning, except that +which it derives from the delusive sense of liberty. According to the +creed of the necessarian, it expresses that mode of action on the part +of the individual, which constitutes the best possible application of +his capacity to the general benefit(30). In the mean time, if we confine +ourselves to this definition, it may as well be taken to describe the +best application of a knife, or any other implement proceeding from the +hands of the manufacturer, as of the powers of a human being. + +But we surely have a very different idea in our minds, when we employ +the term duty. It is not agreeable to the use of language that we should +use this term, except we speak of a being in the exercise of volition. + + + (30) Political Justice, Book II, Chap. IV. + + +Duty then means that which may justly be required of a human creature in +the possession of liberty of action. It includes in its proper sense the +conception of the empire of will, the notion that mind is an arbiter, +that it sits on its throne, and decides, as an absolute prince, this way +or that. + +Duty is the performance of what is due, the discharge of a debt +(debitum). But a knife owes nothing, and can in no sense be said to be +held to one sort of application rather than another; the debt can only +belong to a human being in possession of his liberty, by whom the knife +may be applied laudably or otherwise. + +A multitude of terms instantly occur to us, the application of which +is limited in the same manner as the term duty is limited: such are, to +owe, obligation, debt, bond, right, claim, sin, crime, guilt, merit and +desert. Even reward and punishment, however they may be intelligible +when used merely in the sense of motives employed, have in general +acceptation a sense peculiarly derived from the supposed freedom of the +human will. + +The mode therefore in which the advocates of the doctrine of necessity +have universally talked and written, is one of the most memorable +examples of the hallucination of the human intellect. They have at +all times recommended that we should translate the phrases in which +we usually express ourselves on the hypothesis of liberty, into the +phraseology of necessity, that we should talk no other language than +that which is in correspondence with the severest philosophy, and that +we should exert ourselves to expel all fallacious notions and delusions +so much as from our recollection. They did not perceive what a wide +devastation and destruction they were proposing of all the terms and +phrases that are in use in the communications between man and man +in actual life.--They might as well have recommended that we should +rigorously bear in mind on the ordinary occasions of life, that there is +no such thing as colour, that which we ordinary call by that name having +no existence in external objects, but belonging only to our way of +perceiving them. + +The language which is suggested to us by the conception of the freedom +of human actions, moulds the very first articulations of a child, +"I will," and "I will not;" and is even distinctly conveyed by his +gestures, before he arrives at the power of articulation. This is the +explanation and key to his vehement and ungovernable movements, and his +rebellion. The petulance of the stripling, the fervent and energetic +exertions of the warrior, and the calm and unalterable resolution of +the sage, all imply the same thing. Will, and a confidence in its +efficiency, "travel through, nor quit us till we die." It is this which +inspires us with invincible perseverance, and heroic energies, while +without it we should be the most inert and soulless of blocks, the +shadows of what history records and poetry immortalises, and not men. + +Free will is an integral part of the science of man, and may be said to +constitute its most important chapter. We might with as much propriety +overlook the intelligence of the senses, that medium which acquaints us +with an external world or what we call such, we might as well overlook +the consideration of man's reason, his imagination or taste, as fail to +dwell with earnest reflection and exposition upon that principle which +lies at the foundation of our moral energies, fills us with a moral +enthusiasm, prompts all our animated exertions on the theatre of the +world, whether upon a wide or a narrow scale, and penetrates us with +the most lively and fervent approbation or disapprobation of the acts +of ourselves and others in which the forwarding or obstructing human +happiness is involved. + +But, though the language of the necessarian is at war with the +indestructible feelings of the human mind, and though his demonstrations +will for ever crumble into dust, when brought to the test of the +activity of real life, yet his doctrines, to the reflecting and +enlightened, will by no means be without their use. In the sobriety of +the closet, we inevitably assent to his conclusions; nor is it easy to +conceive how a rational man and a philosopher abstractedly can entertain +a doubt of the necessity of human actions. And the number of these +persons is perpetually increasing; enlarged and dispassionate views of +the nature of man and the laws of the universe are rapidly spreading in +the world. We cannot indeed divest ourselves of love and hatred, of +the sentiments of praise and blame, and the ideas of virtue, duty, +obligation, debt, bond, right, claim, sin, crime, guilt, merit and +desert. And, if we could do so, the effects would be most pernicious, +and the world be rendered a blank. We shall however unquestionably, +as our minds grow enlarged, be brought to the entire and unreserved +conviction, that man is a machine, that he is governed by external +impulses, and is to be regarded as the medium only through the +intervention of which previously existing causes are enabled to produce +certain effects. We shall see, according to an expressive phrase, that +he "could not help it," and, of consequence, while we look down from the +high tower of philosophy upon the scene of human affairs, our prevailing +emotion will be pity, even towards the criminal, who, from the qualities +he brought into the world, and the various circumstances which act upon +him from infancy, and form his character, is impelled to be the means +of the evils, which we view with so profound disapprobation, and the +existence of which we so entirely regret. + +There is an old axiom of philosophy, which counsels us to "think with +the learned, and talk with the vulgar;" and the practical application of +this axiom runs through the whole scene of human affairs. Thus the +most learned astronomer talks of the rising and setting of the sun, +and forgets in his ordinary discourse that the earth is not for ever at +rest, and does not constitute the centre of the universe. Thus, however +we reason respecting the attributes of inanimate matter and the nature +of sensation, it never occurs to us, when occupied with the affairs +of actual life, that there is no heat in fire, and no colour in the +rainbow. + +In like manner, when we contemplate the acts of ourselves and our +neighbours, we can never divest ourselves of the delusive sense of +the liberty of human actions, of the sentiment of conscience, of the +feelings of love and hatred, the impulses of praise and blame, and the +notions of virtue, duty, obligation, right, claim, guilt, merit and +desert. And it has sufficiently appeared in the course of this Essay, +that it is not desirable that we should do so. They are these ideas +to which the world we live in is indebted for its crowning glory and +greatest lustre. They form the highest distinction between men and +other animals, and are the genuine basis of self-reverence, and the +conceptions of true nobility and greatness, and the reverse of these +attributes, in the men with whom we live, and the men whose deeds are +recorded in the never-dying page of history. + +But, though the doctrine of the necessity of human actions can never +form the rule of our intercourse with others, it will still have its +use. It will moderate our excesses, and point out to us that middle path +of judgment which the soundest philosophy inculcates. We shall learn, +according to the apostolic precept, to "be angry, and sin not, neither +let the sun go down upon our wrath." We shall make of our fellow-men +neither idols to worship, nor demons to be regarded with horror and +execration. We shall think of them, as of players, "that strut and fret +their hour upon the stage, and then are heard no more." We shall "weep, +as though we wept not, and rejoice, as though we rejoiced not, seeing +that the fashion of this world passeth away." And, most of all, we shall +view with pity, even with sympathy, the men whose frailties we behold, +or by whom crimes are perpetrated, satisfied that they are parts of one +great machine, and, like ourselves, are driven forward by impulses over +which they have no real control. + + + + +ESSAY XIII. OF BELIEF. + +One of the prerogatives by which man is eminently distinguished from all +other living beings inhabiting this globe of earth, consists in the gift +of reason. + +Beasts reason. They are instructed by experience; and, guided by what +they have already known of the series of events, they infer from the +sense of what has gone before, an assured expectation of what is to +follow. Hence, "beast walks with man, joint tenant of the shade;" and +their sagacity is in many instances more unerring than ours, because +they have no affectation to mislead them; they follow no false lights, +no glimmering intimation of something half-anticipating a result, +but trust to the plain, blunt and obvious dictates of their simple +apprehension. This however is but the first step in the scale of reason, +and is in strictness scarcely entitled to the name. + +We set off from the same point from which they commence their career. +But the faculty of articulate speech comes in, enabling us to form +the crude elements of reason and inference into a code. We digest +explanations of things, assigning the particulars in which they resemble +other classes, and the particulars by which they are distinguished +from whatever other classes have fallen under our notice. We frame +propositions, and, detaching ourselves from the immediate impressions of +sense, proceed to generalities, which exist only, in a way confused, and +not distinctly adverted to, in the conceptions of the animal creation. + +It is thus that we arrive at science, and go forward to those +subtleties, and that perspicuity of explanation, which place man in a +distinct order of being, leaving all the other inhabitants of earth at +an immeasurable distance below him. It is thus that we communicate our +discoveries to each other, and hand down the knowledge we have acquired, +unimpaired and entire, through successive ages, and to generations yet +unborn. + +But in certain respects we pay a very high price for this distinction. +It is to it that we must impute all the follies, extravagances and +hallucinations of human intellect. There is nothing so absurd that some +man has not affirmed, rendering himself the scorn and laughing-stock +of persons of sounder understanding. And, which is worst, the more +ridiculous and unintelligible is the proposition he has embraced, +the more pertinaciously does he cling to it; so that creeds the most +outrageous and contradictory have served as the occasion or pretext for +the most impassioned debates, bloody wars, inhuman executions, and all +that most deeply blots and dishonours the name of man--while often, the +more evanescent and frivolous are the distinctions, the more furious and +inexpiable have been the contentions they have produced. + +The result of the whole, in the vast combinations of men into tribes +and nations, is, that thousands and millions believe, or imagine they +believe, propositions and systems, the terms of which they do not fully +understand, and the evidence of which they have not considered. They +believe, because so their fathers believed before them. No phrase +is more commonly heard than, "I was born a Christian;" "I was born a +Catholic, or a Protestant." + + The priest continues what the nurse began, + And thus the child imposes on the man. + + +But this sort of belief forms no part of the subject of the present +Essay. My purpose is to confine myself to the consideration of those +persons, who in some degree, more or less, exercise the reasoning +faculty in the pursuit of truth, and, having attempted to examine the +evidence of an interesting and weighty proposition, satisfy themselves +that they have arrived at a sound conclusion. + +It is however the rarest thing in the world, for any one to found his +opinion, simply upon the evidence that presents itself to him of the +truth of the proposition which comes before him to be examined. Where +is the man that breaks loose from all the shackles that in his youth had +been imposed upon hills, and says to Truth, "Go on; whithersoever thou +leadest, I am prepared to follow?" To weigh the evidence for and +against a proposition, in scales so balanced, that the "division of the +twentieth part of one poor scruple, the estimation of a hair," shall be +recognised and submitted to, is the privilege of a mind of no ordinary +fairness and firmness. + +The Scriptures say "The heart of man is deceitful above all things." The +thinking principle within us is so subtle, has passed through so many +forms of instruction, and is under the influence and direction of such a +variety of causes, that no man can accurately pronounce by what impulse +he has been led to the conclusion in which he finally reposes. Every +ingenuous person, who is invited to embrace a certain profession, that +of the church for example, will desire, preparatorily to his final +determination, to examine the evidences and the merits of the religion +he embraces, that he may enter upon his profession under the influence +of a sincere conviction, and be inspired with that zeal, in singleness +of heart, which can alone prevent his vocation from being disgraceful +to him. Yet how many motives are there, constraining him to abide in an +affirmative conclusion? His friends expect this from him. Perhaps his +own inclination leads him to select this destination rather than any +other. Perhaps preferment and opulence wait upon his decision. If the +final result of his enquiries lead him to an opposite judgment, to how +much obloquy will he be exposed! Where is the man who can say that +no unconscious bias has influenced him in the progress of his +investigation? Who shall pronounce that, under very different +circumstances, his conclusions would not have been essentially other +than they are? + +But the enquiry of an active and a searching mind does not terminate on +a certain day. He will be for ever revising and reconsidering his first +determinations. It is one of the leading maxims of an honourable mind, +that we must be, at all times, and to the last hour of our existence, +accessible to conviction built upon new evidence, or upon evidence +presented in a light in which it had not before been viewed. If then the +probationer for the clerical profession was under some bias in his +first investigation, how must it be expected to be with him, when he has +already taken the vow, and received ordination? Can he with a calm and +unaltered spirit contemplate the possibility, that the ground shall be +cut away from under him, and that, by dint of irrefragable argument, he +shall be stripped of his occupation, and turned out naked and friendless +into the world? + +But this is only one of the broadest and most glaring instances. In +every question of paramount importance there is ever a secret influence +urging me earnestly to desire to find one side of the question right and +the other wrong. Shall I be a whig or a tory, believe a republic or +a mixed monarchy most conducive to the improvement and happiness of +mankind, embrace the creed of free will or necessity? There is in all +cases a "strong temptation that waketh in the heart." Cowardice urges +me to become the adherent of that creed, which is espoused by my nearest +friends, or those who are most qualified to serve me. Enterprise and +a courageous spirit on the contrary bid me embrace the tenet, the +embracing of which shall most conduce to my reputation for extraordinary +perspicuity and acuteness, and gain me the character of an intrepid +adventurer, a man who dares commit himself to an unknown voyage. + +In the question of religion, even when the consideration of the +profession of an ecclesiastic does not occur, yet we are taught to +believe that there is only one set of tenets that will lead us in +the way of salvation. Faith is represented as the first of all +qualifications. "If I had not come and spoken unto them, they had not +had sin." With what heart then does a man set himself to examine, and +scrupulously weigh the evidence on one side and the other, when some +undiscerned frailty, some secret bias that all his care cannot detect, +may lurk within, and insure for him the "greater condemnation?" I well +remember in early life, with what tingling sensation and unknown horror +I looked into the books of the infidels and the repositories of unlawful +tenets, lest I should be seduced. I held it my duty to "prove all +things;" but I knew not how far it might be my fate; to sustain the +penalty attendant even upon an honourable and virtuous curiousity. + +It is one of the most received arguments of the present day against +religious persecution, that the judgments we form are not under the +authority of our will, and that, for what it is not in our power to +change, it is unjust we should be punished: and there is much truth in +this. But it is not true to the fullest extent. The sentiments we shall +entertain, are to a considerable degree at the disposal of inticements +on the one side, and of menaces and apprehension on the other. That +which we wish to believe, we are already greatly in progress to embrace; +and that which will bring upon us disgrace and calamity, we are more +than half prepared to reject. Persecution however is of very equivocal +power: we cannot embrace one faith and reject another at the word of +command. + +It is a curious question to decide how far punishments and rewards may +be made effectual to determine the religion of nations and generations +of men. They are often unsuccessful. There is a feeling in the human +heart, that prompts us to reject with indignation this species of +tyranny. We become more obstinate in clinging to that which we are +commanded to discard. We place our honour and our pride in the firmness +of our resistance. "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church." +Yet there is often great efficacy in persecution. It was the policy of +the court of Versailles that brought almost to nothing the Huguenots of +France. And there is a degree of persecution, if the persecuting party +has the strength and the inexorableness to employ it, that it is perhaps +beyond the prowess of human nature to stand up against. + +The mind of the enquiring man is engaged in a course of perpetual +research; and ingenuousness prompts us never to be satisfied with the +efforts that we have made, but to press forward. But mind, as well as +body, has a certain vis inertiae, and moves only as it is acted upon by +impulses from without. With respect to the adopting new opinions, and +the discovery of new truths, we must be indebted in the last resort, +either to books, or the oral communications of our fellow-men, or to +ideas immediately suggested to us by the phenomena of man or nature. The +two former are the ordinary causes of a change of judgment to men: +they are for the most part minds of a superior class only, that are +susceptible of hints derived straight from the external world, without +the understandings of other men intervening, and serving as a conduit to +the new conceptions introduced. The two former serve, so to express it, +for the education of man, and enable us to master, in our own persons, +the points already secured, and the wisdom laid up in the great magazine +of human knowledge; the last imparts to us the power of adding to the +stock, and carrying forward by one step and another the improvements of +which our nature is susceptible. + +It is much that books, the unchanging records of the thoughts of men in +former ages, are able to impart to us. For many of the happiest moments +of our lives, for many of the purest and most exalted feelings of the +human heart, we are indebted to them. Education is their province; +we derive from them civilization and refinement; and we may affirm of +literature, what Otway has said of woman, "We had been brutes without +you." It is thus that the acquisitions of the wise are handed down from +age to age, and that we are enabled to mount step after step on the +ladder of paradise, till we reach the skies. + +But, inestimable as is the benefit we derive from books, there is +something more searching and soul-stirring in the impulse of oral +communication. We cannot shut our ears, as we shut our books; we cannot +escape from the appeal of the man who addresses us with earnest speech +and living conviction. It is thus, we are told, that, when Cicero +pleaded before Caesar for the life of Ligarius, the conqueror of the +world was troubled, and changed colour again and again, till at length +the scroll prepared for the condemnation of the patriot fell from his +hand. Sudden and irresistible conviction is chiefly the offspring of +living speech. We may arm ourselves against the arguments of an author; +but the strength of reasoning in him who addresses us, takes us at +unawares. It is in the reciprocation of answer and rejoinder that the +power of conversion specially lies. A book is an abstraction. It is but +imperfectly that we feel, that a real man addresses us in it, and that +what he delivers is the entire and deep-wrought sentiment of a being of +flesh and blood like ourselves, a being who claims our attention, and +is entitled to our deference. The living human voice, with a countenance +and manner corresponding, constrains us to weigh what is said, shoots +through us like a stroke of electricity, will not away from our memory, +and haunts our very dreams. It is by means of this peculiarity in the +nature of mind, that it has been often observed that there is from +time to time an Augustan age in the intellect of nations, that men of +superior powers shock with each other, and that light is struck from +the collision, which most probably no one of these men would have given +birth to, if they had not been thrown into mutual society and communion. +And even so, upon a narrower scale, he that would aspire to do the most +of which his faculties are susceptible, should seek the intercourse of +his fellows, that his powers may be strengthened, and he may be kept +free from that torpor and indolence of soul, which, without external +excitement, are ever apt to take possession of us. + +The man, who lives in solitude, and seldom communicates with minds of +the same class as his own, works out his opinions with patient scrutiny, +returns to the investigation again and again, imagines that he had +examined the question on all sides, and at length arrives at what is to +him a satisfactory conclusion. He resumes the view of this conclusion +day after day; he finds in it an unalterable validity; he says in his +heart, "Thus much I have gained; this is a real advance in the search +after truth; I have added in a defined and palpable degree to what I +knew before." And yet it has sometimes happened, that this person, after +having been shut up for weeks, or for a longer period, in his sanctuary, +living, so far as related to an exchange of oral disquisitions with his +fellow-men, like Robinson Crusoe in the desolate island, shall come into +the presence of one, equally clear-sighted, curious and indefatigable +with himself, and shall hear from him an obvious and palpable statement, +which in a moment shivers his sightly and glittering fabric into atoms. +The statement was palpable and near at hand; it was a thin, an almost +imperceptible partition that hid it from him; he wonders in his heart +that it never occurred to his meditations. And yet so it is: it was hid +from him for weeks, or perhaps for a longer period: it might have been +hid from him for twenty years, if it had not been for the accident that +supplied it. And he no sooner sees it, than he instantly perceives that +the discovery upon which he plumed himself, was an absurdity, of which +even a schoolboy might be ashamed. + +A circumstance not less curious, among the phenomena which belong to +this subject of belief, is the repugnance incident to the most ingenuous +minds, which we harbour against the suddenly discarding an opinion +we have previously entertained, and the adopting one which comes +recommended to us with almost the force of demonstration. Nothing can +be better founded than this repugnance. The mind of man is of a peculiar +nature. It has been disputed whether we can entertain more than one idea +at a time. But certain it is, that the views of the mind at any one time +are considerably narrowed. The mind is like the slate of a schoolboy, +which can contain only a certain number of characters of a given size, +or like a moveable panorama, which places a given scene or landscape +before me, and the space assigned, and which comes within the limits +marked out to my perception, is full. Many things are therefore almost +inevitably shut out, which, had it not been so, might have essentially +changed the view of the case, and have taught me that it was a very +different conclusion at which I ought to have arrived. + +At first sight nothing can appear more unreasonable, than that I should +hesitate to admit the seemingly irresistible force of the argument +presented to me. An ingenuous disposition would appear to require that, +the moment the truth, or what seems to be the truth, is set before me, +I should pay to it the allegiance to which truth is entitled. If I do +otherwise, it would appear to argue a pusillanimous disposition, a +mind not prompt and disengaged to receive the impression of evidence, +a temper that loves something else better than the lustre which all +men are bound to recognise, and that has a reserve in favour of ancient +prejudice, and of an opinion no longer supported by reason. + +In fact however I shall act most wisely, and in the way most honourable +to my character, if I resolve to adjourn the debate. No matter how +complete the view may seem which is now presented to my consideration, +or how irresistible the arguments: truth is too majestic a divinity, +and it is of too much importance that I should not follow a delusive +semblance that may shew like truth, not to make it in the highest degree +proper that I should examine again and again, before I come to the +conclusion to which I mean to affix my seal, and annex my sanction, +"This is the truth." The ancient Goths of Germany, we are told, had a +custom of debating every thing of importance to their state twice, once +in the high animation of a convivial meeting, and once in the serene +stillness of a morning consultation. Philip of Macedon having decided a +cause precipitately, the party condemned by him immediately declared his +resolution to appeal from the sentence. And to whom, said the king, wilt +thou appeal? To Philip, was the answer, in the entire possession of his +understanding. + +Such is the nature of the human mind--at least, such I find to be the +nature of my own--that many trains of thinking, many chains of evidence, +the result of accumulated facts, will often not present themselves, at +the time when their presence would be of the highest importance. +The view which now comes before me is of a substance so close and +well-woven, and of colours so brilliant and dazzling, that other matters +in a certain degree remote, though of no less intrinsic importance, and +equally entitled to influence my judgment in the question in hand, shall +be entirely shut out, shall be killed, and fail to offer themselves to +my perceptions. + +It is a curious circumstance which Pope, a man of eminent logical power +and acuteness, relates, that, having at his command in his youth a +collection of all the tracts that had been written on both sides in the +reign of James the Second, he applied himself with great assiduity +to their perusal, and the consequence was, that he was a Papist and +Protestant by turns, according to the last book he read(31). + + + (31) Correspondence with Atterbury, Letter IV. + + +This circumstance in the structure of the human understanding is well +known, and is the foundation of many provisions that occur in the +constitution of political society. How each man shall form his creed, +and arrange those opinions by which his conduct shall be regulated, is +of course a matter exclusively subjected to his own discretion. But, +when he is called upon to act in the name of a community, and to decide +upon a question in which the public is interested, he of necessity feels +himself called upon to proceed with the utmost caution. A judge on the +bench, a chancellor, is not contented with that sudden ray of mental +illumination to which an ingenuous individual is often disposed to yield +in an affair of abstract speculation. He feels that he is obliged to +wait for evidence, the nature of which he does not yet anticipate, and +to adjourn his decision. A deliberative council or assembly is aware of +the necessity of examining a question again and again. It is upon this +principle that the two houses of the English parliament are required to +give a first, a second and a third reading, together with various other +forms and technicalities, to the provision that is brought before them, +previously to its passing into a law. And there is many a fundamental +dogma and corner-stone of the sentiments that I shall emphatically call +my own, that is of more genuine importance to the individual, than to a +nation is a number of those regulations, which by courtesy we call acts +of parliament. + +Nothing can have a more glaring tendency to subvert the authority of my +opinion among my fellow-men, than instability. "What went ye out into +the wilderness to see" said Jesus Christ: "a reed shaken with the wind?" +We ought at all times to be open to conviction. We ought to be ever +ready to listen to evidence. But, conscious of our human frailty, it +is seldom that we ought immediately to subscribe to the propositions, +however specious, that are now for the first time presented to us. It +is our duty to lay up in our memory the suggestions offered upon any +momentous question, and not to suffer them to lose their inherent weight +and impressiveness; but it is only through the medium of consideration +and reconsideration, that they can become entitled to our full and +unreserved assent. + +The nature of belief, or opinion, has been well illustrated by Lord +Shaftesbury(32). There are many notions or judgments floating in the +mind of every man, which are mutually destructive of each other. In this +sense men's opinions are governed by high and low spirits, by the state +of the solids and fluids of the human body, and by the state of the +weather. But in a paramount sense that only can be said to be a man's +opinion which he entertains in his clearest moments, and from which, +when he is most himself, he is least subject to vary. In this emphatical +sense, I should say, a man does not always know what is his real +opinion. We cannot strictly be said to believe any thing, in cases +where we afterwards change our opinion without the introduction of some +evidence that was unknown to us before. But how many are the instances +in which we can be affirmed to be in the adequate recollection of all +the evidences and reasonings which have at some time occurred to us, and +of the opinions, together with the grounds on which they rested, which +we conceived we had justly and rationally entertained? + +The considerations here stated however should by no means be allowed to +inspire us with indifference in matters of opinion. It is the glory and +lustre of our nature, that we are capable of receiving evidence, and +weighing the reasons for and against any important proposition in the +balance of an impartial and enlightened understanding. The only effect +that should be produced in us, by the reflection that we can at last by +no means be secure that we have attained to a perfect result, should be +to teach us a wholsome diffidence and humility, and induce us to confess +that, when we have done all, we are ignorant, dim-sighted and fallible, +that our best reasonings may betray, and our wisest conclusions deceive +us. + + + (32) Enquiry concerning Virtue, Book 1, Part 1, Section ii. + + + + +ESSAY XIV. OF YOUTH AND AGE. + +Magna debetur pueris reverentia. + + Quintilian. + +I am more doubtful in writing the following Essay than in any of those +which precede, how far I am treating of human nature generally, or to a +certain degree merely recording my own feelings as an individual. I +am guided however in composing it, by the principle laid down in my +Preface, that the purpose of my book in each instance should be to +expand some new and interesting truth, or some old truth viewed under a +new aspect, which had never by any preceding writer been laid before the +public. + +Education, in the conception of those whose office it is to direct it, +has various engines by means of which it is to be made effective, and +among these are reprehension and chastisement. + +The philosophy of the wisest man that ever existed, is mainly derived +from the act of introspection. We look into our own bosoms, observe +attentively every thing that passes there, anatomise our motives, +trace step by step the operations of thought, and diligently remark +the effects of external impulses upon our feelings and conduct. +Philosophers, ever since the time in which Socrates flourished, to carry +back our recollections no further, have found that the minds of men in +the most essential particulars are framed so far upon the same model, +that the analysis of the individual may stand in general consideration +for the analysis of the species. Where this principle fails, it is not +easy to suggest a proceeding that shall supply the deficiency. I look +into my own breast; I observe steadily and with diligence what passes +there; and with all the parade of the philosophy of the human mind I can +do little more than this. + +In treating therefore of education in the point of view in which it has +just been proposed, I turn my observation upon myself, and I proceed +thus.--If I do not stand as a competent representative for the whole of +my species, I suppose I may at least assume to be the representative of +no inconsiderable number of them. + +I find then in myself, for as long a time as I can trace backward +the records of memory, a prominent vein of docility. Whatever it +was proposed to teach me, that was in any degree accordant with my +constitution and capacity, I was willing to learn. And this limit is +sufficient for the topic I am proposing to treat. I do not intend to +consider education of any other sort, than that which has something +in it of a liberal and ingenuous nature. I am not here discussing the +education of a peasant, an artisan, or a slave. + +In addition to this vein of docility, which easily prompted me to learn +whatever was proposed for my instruction and improvement, I felt in +myself a sentiment of ambition, a desire to possess the qualifications +which I found to be productive of esteem, and that should enable me to +excel among my contemporaries. I was ambitious to be a leader, and to be +regarded by others with feelings of complacency. I had no wish to rule +by brute force and compulsion; but I was desirous to govern by love, and +honour, and "the cords of a man." + +I do not imagine that, when I aver thus much of myself, I am bringing +forward any thing unprecedented, or that multitudes of my fellow-men do +not largely participate with me. + +The question therefore I am considering is, through what agency, and +with what engines, a youth thus disposed, and with these qualifications, +is to be initiated in all liberal arts. + +I will go back no further than to the commencement of the learning of +Latin. All before was so easy to me, as never to have presented the idea +of a task. I was immediately put into the accidence. No explanation was +attempted to be given why Latin was to be of use to me, or why it was +necessary to commit to memory the cases of nouns and the tenses of +verbs. I know not whether this was owing to the unwillingness of my +instructor to give himself the trouble, or to my supposed incapacity to +apprehend the explanation. The last of these I do not admit. My +docility however came to my aid, and I did not for a moment harbour +any repugnance to the doing what was required of me. At first, and +unassisted in the enquiry, I felt a difficulty in supposing that the +English language, all the books in my father's library, did not contain +every thing that it would be necessary for me to know. In no long +time however I came to experience a pleasure in turning the thoughts +expressed in an unknown tongue into my own; and I speedily understood +that I could never be on a level with those eminent scholars whom it was +my ambition to rival, without the study of the classics. + +What then were the obstacles, that should in any degree counteract my +smooth and rapid progress in the studies suggested to me? I can conceive +only two. + +First, the versatility and fickleness which in a greater or less degree +beset all human minds, particularly in the season of early youth. +However docile we may be, and willing to learn, there will be periods, +when either some other object powerfully solicits us, or satiety creeps +in, and makes us wish to occupy our attention with any thing else rather +than with the task prescribed us. But this is no powerful obstacle. +The authority of the instructor, a grave look, and the exercise of a +moderate degree of patience will easily remove it in such a probationer +as we are here considering. + +Another obstacle is presumption. The scholar is willing to conceive +well of his own capacity. He has a vanity in accomplishing the task +prescribed him in the shortest practicable time. He is impatient to go +away from the business imposed upon him, to things of his own election, +and occupations which his partialities and his temper prompt him to +pursue. He has a pride in saying to himself, "This, which was a business +given to occupy me for several hours, I can accomplish in less than +one." But the presumption arising out of these views is easily subdued. +If the pupil is wrong in his calculation, the actual experiment will +speedily convince him of his error. He is humbled by and ashamed of his +mistake. The merely being sent back to study his lesson afresh, is on +the face of the thing punishment enough. + +It follows from this view of the matter, that an ingenuous youth, +endowed with sufficient capacity for the business prescribed him, may +be led on in the path of intellectual acquisition and improvement with a +silken cord. It will demand a certain degree of patience on the part +of the instructor. But Heaven knows, that this patience is sufficiently +called into requisition when the instructor shall be the greatest +disciplinarian that ever existed. Kind tones and encouragement will +animate the learner amidst many a difficult pass. A grave remark may +perhaps sometimes be called for. And, if the preceptor and the pupil +have gone on like friends, a grave remark, a look expressive of rebuke, +will be found a very powerful engine. The instructor should smooth the +business of instruction to his pupil, by appealing to his understanding, +developing his taste, and assisting him to remark the beauties of the +composition on which he is occupied. + +I come now then to the consideration of the two engines mentioned in the +commencement of this Essay, reprehension and chastisement. + +And here, as in what went before, I am reduced to the referring to my +own experience, and looking back into the history of my own mind. + +I say then, that reprehension and reprimand can scarcely ever be +necessary. The pupil should undoubtedly be informed when he is wrong. +He should be told what it is that he ought to have omitted, and that +he ought to have done. There should be no reserve in this. It will be +worthy of the highest censure, if on these points the instructor should +be mealy-mouthed, or hesitate to tell the pupil in the plainest terms, +of his faults, his bad habits, and the dangers that beset his onward and +honourable path. + +But this may be best, and most beneficially done, and in a way most +suitable to the exigence, and to the party to be corrected, in a few +words. The rest is all an unwholsome tumour, the disease of speech, and +not the sound and healthful substance through which its circulation and +life are conveyed. + +There is always danger of this excrescence of speech, where the speaker +is the umpire, and feels himself at liberty, unreproved, to say what he +pleases. He is charmed with the sound of his own voice. The periods flow +numerous from his tongue, and he gets on at his ease. There is in +all this an image of empire; and the human mind is ever prone to be +delighted in the exercise of unrestricted authority. The pupil in this +case stands before his instructor in an attitude humble, submissive, and +bowing to the admonition that is communicated to him. The speaker says +more than it was in his purpose to say; and he knows not how to arrest +himself in his triumphant career. He believes that he is in no danger of +excess, and recollects the old proverb that "words break no bones." + +But a syllable more than is necessary and justly measured, is materially +of evil operation to ingenuous youth. The mind of such a youth is tender +and flexible, and easily swayed one way or the other. He believes almost +every thing that he is bid to believe; and the admonition that is given +him with all the symptoms of friendliness and sincerity he is prompt +to subscribe to. If this is wantonly aggravated to him, he feels the +oppression, and is galled with the injustice. He knows himself guiltless +of premeditated wrong. He has not yet learned that his condition is that +of a slave; and he feels a certain impatience at his being considered as +such, though he probably does not venture to express it. He shuts up the +sense of this despotism in his own bosom; and it is his first lesson of +independence and rebellion and original sin. + +It is one of the grossest mistakes of which we can be guilty, if we +confound different offences and offenders together. The great and +the small alike appear before us in the many-coloured scene of human +society, and, if we reprehend bitterly and rate a juvenile sinner +for the fault, which he scarcely understood, and assuredly had not +premeditated, we break down at once a thousand salutary boundaries, +and reduce the ideas of right and wrong in his mind to a portentous and +terrible chaos. The communicator of liberal knowledge assuredly +ought not to confound his office with that of a magistrate at +a quarter-sessions, who though he does not sit in judgment upon +transgressions of the deepest and most atrocious character, yet has +brought before him in many cases defaulters of a somewhat hardened +disposition, whose lot has been cast among the loose and the profligate, +and who have been carefully trained to a certain audacity of temper, +taught to look upon the paraphernalia of justice with scorn, and +to place a sort of honour in sustaining hard words and the lesser +visitations of punishment with unflinching nerve. + +If this is the judgment we ought to pass upon the bitter and galling +and humiliating terms of reprehension apt to be made use of by the +instructor to his pupil, it is unnecessary to say a word on the subject +of chastisement. If such an expedient is ever to be had recourse to, +it can only be in cases of contumaciousness and rebellion; and then the +instructor cannot too unreservedly say to himself, "This is matter of +deep humiliation to me: I ought to have succeeded by an appeal to the +understanding and ingenuous feelings of youth; but I am reduced to a +confession of my impotence." + +But the topic which, most of all, I was desirous to bring forward in +this Essay, is that of the language so customarily employed by the +impatient and irritated preceptor, "Hereafter, in a state of mature +and ripened judgment, you will thank me for the severity I now exercise +towards you." + +No; it may safely be answered: that time will never arrive. + +As, in one of my earlier Essays(33), I undertook to shew that there is +not so much difference between the talents of one man and another as has +often been apprehended, so we are guilty of a gross error in the way +in which we divide the child from the man, and consider him as if he +belonged to a distinct species of beings. + + + (33) Essay II. + + +I go back to the recollections of my youth, and can scarcely find where +to draw the line between ineptness and maturity. The thoughts that +occurred to me, as far back as I can recollect them, were often shrewd; +the suggestions ingenious; the judgments not seldom acute. I feel myself +the same individual all through. + +Sometimes I was unreasonably presumptuous, and sometimes unnecessarily +distrustful. Experience has taught me in various instances a sober +confidence in my decisions; but that is all the difference. So to +express it, I had then the same tools to work with as now; but the +magazine of materials upon which I had to operate was scantily supplied. +Like the apothecary in Romeo and Juliet, the faculty, such as it was, +was within me; but my shelves contained but a small amount of furniture: + + A beggarly account of empty boxes, + Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses, + Which, thinly scattered, served to make a shew. + + +In speaking thus of the intellectual powers of my youth, I am however +conceding too much. It is true, "Practice maketh perfect." But it is +surprising, in apt and towardly youth, how much there is to commend in +the first essays. The novice, who has his faculties lively and on the +alert, will strike with his hammer almost exactly where the blow ought +to be placed, and give nearly the precisely right force to the act. He +will seize the thread it was fitting to seize; and, though he fail again +and again, will shew an adroitness upon the whole that we scarcely know +how to account for. The man whose career shall ultimately be crowned +with success, will demonstrate in the beginning that he was destined to +succeed. + +There is therefore no radical difference between the child and the man. +His flesh becomes more firm and sinewy; his bones grow more solid +and powerful; his joints are more completely strung. But he is still +essentially the same being that he was. When a genuine philosopher holds +a new-born child in his arms, and carefully examines it, he perceives +in it various indications of temper and seeds of character. It was all +there, though folded up and confused, and not obtruding itself upon the +remark of every careless spectator. It continues with the child through +life, grows with his growth, and never leaves him till he is at last +consigned to the tomb. How absurd then by artful rules and positive +institutions to undertake to separate what can never be divided! The +child is occasionally grave and reflecting, and deduces well-founded +inferences; he draws on the past, and plunges into the wide ocean of +the future. In proportion as the child advances into the youth, his +intervals of gravity increase, and he builds up theories and judgments, +some of which no future time shall suffice to overturn. It is idle to +suppose that the first activity of our faculties, when every thing is +new and produces an unbated impression, when the mind is uncumbered, and +every interest and every feeling bid us be observing and awake, should +pass for nothing. We lay up stores then, which shall never be exhausted. +Our minds are the reverse of worn and obtuse. We bring faculties into +the world with us fresh from the hands of the all-bounteous giver; they +are not yet moulded to a senseless routine; they are not yet corrupted +by the ill lessons of effrontery, impudence and vice. Childhood is +beautiful; youth is ingenuous; and it can be nothing but a principle +which is hostile to all that most adorns this sublunary scene, that +would with violence and despotic rule mar the fairest flower that +creation has to boast. + +It happens therefore almost unavoidably that, when the man mature +looks back upon the little incidents of his youth, he sees them to a +surprising degree in the same light, and forms the same conclusions +respecting them, as he did when they were actually passing. "The +forgeries of opinion," says Cicero, "speedily pass away; but the rules +and decisions of nature are strengthened." Bitter reproaches and acts of +violence are the offspring of perturbation engendered upon imbecility, +and therefore can never be approved upon a sober and impartial revision. +And, if they are to be impeached in the judgment of an equal and +indifferent observer, we may be sure they will be emphatically condemned +by the grave and enlightened censor who looks back upon the years of +his own nonage, and recollects that he was himself the victim of +the intemperance to be pronounced upon. The interest that he must +necessarily take in the scenes in which he once had an engrossing +concern, will supply peculiar luminousness to his views. He taxes +himself to be just. The transaction is over now, and is passed to the +events that preceded the universal deluge. He holds the balance with +a steadiness, which sets at defiance all attempts to give it a false +direction one way or the other. But the judgment he made on the case +at the time, and immediately after the humiliation he suffered, remains +with him. It was the sentiment of his ripening youth; it was the opinion +of his opening manhood; and it still attends him, when he is already +fast yielding to the incroachments and irresistible assaults of +declining years. + + + + +ESSAY XV. OF LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. + +Who is it that says, "There is no love but among equals?" Be it who it +may, it is a saying universally known, and that is in every one's mouth. +The contrary is precisely the truth, and is the great secret of every +thing that is admirable in our moral nature. + +By love it is my intention here to understand, not a calm, tranquil, +and, as it were, half-pronounced feeling, but a passion of the mind. We +may doubtless entertain an approbation of other men, without adverting +to the question how they stand in relation to ourselves, as equals or +otherwise. But the sentiment I am here considering, is that where the +person in whom it resides most strongly sympathises with the joys and +sorrows of another, desires his gratification, hopes for his welfare, +and shrinks from the anticipation of his being injured; in a word, is +the sentiment which has most the spirit of sacrifice in it, and prepares +the person in whom it dwells, to postpone his own advantage to the +advantage of him who is the object of it. + +Having placed love among the passions, which is no vehement assumption, +I then say, there can be no passion, and by consequence no love, where +there is not imagination. In cases where every thing is understood, and +measured, and reduced to rule, love is out of the question. Whenever +this sentiment prevails, I must have my attention fixed more on the +absent than the present, more upon what I do not see than on what I do +see. My thoughts will be taken up with the future or the past, with +what is to come or what has been. Of the present there is necessarily +no image. Sentiment is nothing, till you have arrived at a mystery and +a veil, something that is seen obscurely, that is just hinted at in the +distance, that has neither certain outline nor colour, but that is left +for the mind to fill up according to its pleasure and in the best manner +it is able. + +The great model of the affection of love in human beings, is the +sentiment which subsists between parents and children. + +Let not this appear a paradox. There is another relation in human +society to which this epithet has more emphatically been given: but, +if we analyse the matter strictly, we shall find that all that is most +sacred and beautiful in the passion between the sexes, has relation to +offspring. What Milton calls, "The rites mysterious of connubial love," +would have little charm in them in reflection, to a mind one degree +above the brutes, were it not for the mystery they include, of their +tendency to give existence to a new human creature like ourselves. Were +it not for this circumstance, a man and a woman would hardly ever have +learned to live together; there scarcely could have been such a thing +as domestic society; but every intercourse of this sort would have been +"casual, joyless, unendeared;" and the propensity would have brought +along with it nothing more of beauty, lustre and grace, than the +pure animal appetites of hunger and thirst. Bearing in mind these +considerations, I do not therefore hesitate to say, that the great +model of the affection of love in human beings, is the sentiment which +subsists between parents and children. + +The original feature in this sentiment is the conscious feeling of +the protector and the protected. Our passions cannot subsist in lazy +indolence; passion and action must operate on each other; passion must +produce action, and action give strength to the tide of passion. We do +not vehemently desire, where we can do nothing. It is in a very faint +way that I entertain a wish to possess the faculty of flying; and an +ordinary man can scarcely be said to desire to be a king or an emperor. +None but a madman, of plebeian rank, falls in love with a princess. But +shew me a good thing within my reach; convince me that it is in my power +to attain it; demonstrate to me that it is fit for me, and I am fit for +it; then begins the career of passion. In the same manner, I cannot love +a person vehemently, and strongly interest myself in his miscarriages or +success, till I feel that I can be something to him. Love cannot dwell +in a state of impotence. To affect and be affected, this is the common +nature I require; this is the being that is like unto myself; all other +likeness resides in the logic and the definition, but has nothing to do +with feeling or with practice. + +What can be more clear and sound in explanation, than the love of a +parent to his child? The affection he bears and its counterpart are the +ornaments of the world, and the spring of every thing that makes life +worth having. Whatever besides has a tendency to illustrate and honour +our nature, descends from these, or is copied from these, grows out of +them as the branches of a tree from the trunk, or is formed upon them as +a model, and derives from them its shape, its character, and its soul. +Yet there are men so industrious and expert to strip the world we live +in of all that adorns it, that they can see nothing glorious in these +affections, but find the one to be all selfishness, and the other all +prejudice and superstition. + +The love of the parent to his child is nursed and fostered by two plain +considerations; first, that the subject is capable of receiving much, +and secondly, that my power concerning it is great and extensive. + +When an infant is presented to my observation, what a wide field of +sentiment and reflection is opened to me! Few minds are industrious and +ductile enough completely to compass this field, if the infant is only +accidentally brought under their view. But, if it is an infant with +which I begin to be acquainted to-day, and my acquaintance with which +shall not end perhaps till one of us ceases to exist, how is it possible +that the view of its little figure should not lead me to the meditation +of its future history, the successive stages of human life, and the +various scenes and mutations and vicissitudes and fortunes through +which it is destined to pass? The Book of Fate lies open before me. This +infant, powerless and almost impassive now, is reserved for many sorrows +and many joys, and will one day possess a power, formidable and fearful +to afflict those within its reach, or calculated to diffuse blessings, +wisdom, virtue, happiness, to all around. I conceive all the various +destinations of which man is susceptible; my fancy at least is free to +select that which pleases me best; I unfold and pursue it in all its +directions, observe the thorns and difficulties with which it is +beset, and conjure up to my thoughts all that it can boast of inviting, +delightful and honourable. + +But if the infant that is near to me lays hold of my imagination and +affections at the moment in which he falls under my observation, how +much more do I become interested in him, as he advances from year to +year! At first, I have the blessing of the gospel upon me, in that, +"having not seen, yet I believe." But, as his powers expand, I +understand him better. His little eye begins to sparkle with meaning; +his tongue tells a tale that may be understood; his very tones, and +gestures, and attitudes, all inform me concerning what he shall be. I am +like a florist, who has received a strange plant from a distant country. +At first he sees only the stalk, and the leaves, and the bud having yet +no other colour than that of the leaves. But as he watches his plant +from day to day, and from hour to hour, the case which contains the +flower divides, and betrays first one colour and then another, till the +shell gradually subsides more and more towards the stalk, and the figure +of the flower begins now to be seen, and its radiance and its pride to +expand itself to the ravished observer.--Every lesson that the child +leans, every comment that he makes upon it, every sport that he pursues, +every choice that he exerts, the demeanour that he adopts to his +playfellows, the modifications and character of his little fits of +authority or submission, all make him more and more an individual to +me, and open a wider field for my sagacity or my prophecy, as to what he +promises to be, and what he may be made. + +But what gives, as has already been observed, the point and the finish +to all the interest I take respecting him, lies in the vast power I +possess to influence and direct his character and his fortune. At first +it is abstract power, but, when it has already been exerted (as the +writers on politics as a science have observed of property), the sweat +of my brow becomes mingled with the apple I have gathered, and my +interest is greater. No one understands my views and projects entirely +but myself, and the scheme I have conceived will suffer, if I do not +complete it as I began. + +And there are men that say, that all this mystery, the most beautiful +attitude of human nature, and the crown of its glory, is pure +selfishness! + +Let us now turn from the view of the parental, to that of the filial +affection. + +The great mistake that has been made on this subject, arises from +the taking it nakedly and as a mere abstraction. It has been sagely +remarked, that when my father did that which occasioned me to come into +existence, he intended me no benefit, and therefore I owe him no thanks. +And the inference which has been made from this wise position is, that +the duty of children to parents is a mere imposture, a trick, employed +by the old to defraud the young out of their services. + +I grant most readily, that the mere material ligament that binds +together the father and the child, by itself is worthless, and that he +who owes nothing more than this to his father, owes him nothing. The +natural, unanimated relationship is like the grain of mustard-seed in +the discourses of Jesus Christ, "which indeed is the least of all seeds; +but, when it is unfolded and grows up, it becomes a mighty tree, so that +the birds of the air may come and lodge in its branches." + +The hard and insensible man may know little of the debt he owes to his +father; but he that is capable of calling up the past, and beholding the +things that are not as if they now were, will see the matter in a very +different light. Incalculable are the privations (in a great majority +of instances), the toils, the pains, the anxieties, that every child +imposes on his father from the first hour of his existence. If he could +know the ceaseless cares, the tender and ardent feelings, the almost +incredible efforts and exertions, that have accompanied him in his +father's breast through the whole period of his growth, instead of +thinking that he owed his parent nothing, he would stand still and +wonder that one human creature could do so much for another. + +I grant that all this may be done for a child by a stranger, and that +then in one sense the obligation would be greater. It is however barely +possible that all this should be done. The stranger wants the first +exciting cause, the consideration, "This creature by the great scheme of +nature belongs to me, and is cast upon my care." And, as the tie in the +case of the stranger was not complete in the beginning, so neither can +it be made so in the sequel. The little straggler is like the duckling +hatched in the nest of a hen; there is danger every day, that as the +nursling begins to be acquainted with its own qualities, it may plunge +itself into another element, and swim away from its benefactor. + +Even if we put all these considerations out of the question, still the +affection of the child to its parent of adoption, wants the kernel, and, +if I may so speak, the soul, of the connection which has been formed +and modelled by the great hand of nature. If the mere circumstance of +filiation and descent creates no debt, it however is the principle of a +very close connection. One of the most memorable mysteries of nature, +is how, out of the slightest of all connections (for such, literally +speaking, is that between father and child), so many coincidences should +arise. The child resembles his parent in feature, in temperament, in +turn of mind, and in class of disposition, while at the same time in +many particulars, in these same respects, he is a new and individual +creature. In one view therefore the child is merely the father +multiplied and repeated. Now one of the indefeasible principles of +affection is the partaking of a common nature; and as man is a species +by himself, so to a certain degree is every nation and every family; and +this consideration, when added to the moral and spiritual ties already +treated of, undoubtedly has a tendency to give them their zest and +perfection. + +But even this is not the most agreeable point of view in which we may +consider the filial affection. I come back to my first position, +that where there is no imagination, there can be no passion, and by +consequence no love. No parent ever understood his child, and no child +ever understood his parent. We have seen that the affectionate parent +considers his child like a flower in the bud, as a mine of power that +is to be unfolded, as a creature that is to act and to pass through he +knows not what, as a canvas that "gives ample room and verge enough," +for his prophetic soul to hang over in endless visions, and his +intellectual pencil to fill up with various scenes and fortunes. And, if +the parent does not understand his child, certainly as little does the +child understand his parent. Wherever this relation subsists in +its fairest form, the parent is as a God, a being qualified with +supernatural powers, to his offspring. The child consults his father +as an oracle; to him he proposes all his little questions; from him he +learns his natural philosophy, his morals, his rules of conduct, his +religion, and his creed. The boy is uninformed on every point; and the +father is a vast Encyclopedia, not merely of sciences, but of feelings, +of sagacity, of practical wisdom, and of justice, which the son consults +on all occasions, and never consults in vain. Senseless and inexpert is +that parent, who endeavours to govern the mind by authority, and to lay +down rugged and peremptory dogmas to his child; the child is fully and +unavoidably prepared to receive every thing with unbounded deference, +and to place total reliance in the oracle which nature has assigned him. +Habits, how beautiful! Inestimable benefit of nature, that has given +me a prop against which to sustain my unripened strength, and has not +turned me loose to wander with tottering steps amidst the vast desert of +society! + +But it is not merely for contemplative wisdom that the child honours +his parent; he sees in him a vast fund of love, attachment and sympathy. +That he cannot mistake; and it is all a mystery to him. He says, What +am I, that I should be the object of this? and whence comes it? He sees +neither the fountain from which it springs, nor the banks that confine +it. To him it is an ocean, unfathomable, and without a shore. + +To the bounty of its operations he trusts implicitly. The stores of +judgment and knowledge he finds in his father, prompt him to trust it. +In many instances where it appeared at first obscure and enigmatical, +the event has taught him to acknowledge its soundness. The mutinousness +of passion will sometimes excite a child to question the decrees of his +parent; it is very long before his understanding, as such, comes to set +up a separate system, and teaches him to controvert the decisions of his +father. + +Perhaps I ought earlier to have stated, that the filial connection we +have here to consider, does not include those melancholy instances where +some woful defect or utter worthlessness in the parent counteracts the +natural course of the affections, but refers only to cases, where the +character of father is on the whole sustained with honour, and the +principle of the connection is left to its true operation. In such cases +the child not only observes for himself the manifestations of wisdom and +goodness in his parent, but is also accustomed to hear well of him +from all around. There is a generous conspiracy in human nature, not to +counteract the honour borne by the offspring to him from whom he sprung, +and the wholsome principle of superiority and dependence which is almost +indispensible between persons of different ages dwelling under the same +roof. And, exclusively of this consideration, the men who are chiefly +seen by the son are his father's friends and associates; and it is the +very bent, and, as it were, law of our nature, that we do not associate +much, but with persons whom we favour, and who are prepared to mention +us with kindness and honour. + +Thus every way the child is deeply imbued with veneration for his +parent, and forms the habit of regarding him as his book of wisdom, his +philosopher and guide. He is accustomed to hear him spoken of as a true +friend, an active ally, and a pattern of justice and honour; and he +finds him so. Now these are the true objects of affection,--wisdom and +beneficence; and the human heart loves this beneficence better when it +is exercised towards him who loves, first, because inevitably in +almost all instances we are best pleased with the good that is done to +ourselves, and secondly, because it can scarcely happen but that we in +that case understand it best, both in its operation and its effects. + +The active principles of religion are all moulded upon this familiar and +sensible relation of father and child: and to understand whet the human +heart is capable to conceive on this subject, we have only to refer to +the many eloquent and glowing treatises that have been written upon the +love of God to his creatures, and the love that the creature in return +owes to his God. I am not now considering religion in a speculative +point of view, or enquiring among the different sects and systems of +religion what it is that is true; but merely producing religion as +an example of what have been the conceptions of the human mind in +successive ages of the world on the subject of love. + +This All that we behold, the immensity of the universe, the admirable +harmony and subtlety of its structure, as they appear in the vastest and +the minutest bodies, is considered by religion, as the emanation of pure +love, a mighty impulse and ardour in its great author to realise the +idea existing in his mind, and to produce happiness. The Providence +that watches over us, so that not a sparrow dies unmarked, and that "the +great Sensorium of the world vibrates, if a hair of our head but +falls to the ground in the remotest desert of his creation," is +still unremitted, never-satiated love. And, to go from this to the +peculiarities of the Christian doctrine, "Greater love hath no man than +this, that a man lay down his life for his friends: God so loved the +world, that he gave his only-begotten Son to suffer, to be treated +contumeliously, and to die with ignominy, that we might live." + +If on the other hand we consider the love which the creature must +naturally pay to his creator, we shall find that the affection we can +suppose the most ingenuous child to bear to the worthiest parent, is +a very faint image of the passion which may be expected to grow out of +this relation. In God, as he is represented to us in the books of the +worthiest divines, is every thing that can command love; wisdom to +conceive, power to execute, and beneficence actually to carry +into effect, whatever is excellent and admirable. We are lost in +contemplating the depth and immensity of his perfections. "Every good +and every perfect gift is from the universal Father, with whom is +no variableness, neither shadow of turning." The most soothing and +gratifying of all sentiments, is that of entire confidence in the divine +goodness, a reliance which no adversity can shake, and which supports +him that entertains it under every calamity, that sees the finger of God +in every thing that comes to pass, that says, "It is good for me to be +afflicted," believes, that "all things work together for blessings" +to the pious and the just, and is intimately persuaded that "our light +affliction, which is but for a moment, is the means and the earnest of a +far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." + +If we descend from these great archetypes, the love between parent and +child, and between the creator and his creature, we shall still find the +same inequality the inseparable attendant upon the most perfect ties +of affection. The ancients seem to have conceived the truest and most +exalted ideas on the subject of friendship. Among the most celebrated +instances are the friendship of Achilles and Patroclus, Orestes +and Pylades, Aeneas and Achates, Cyrus and Araspes, Alexander and +Hephaestion, Scipio and Laelius. In each of these the parties are, the +true hero, the man of lofty ambition, the magnificent personage in whom +is concentred every thing that the historian or the poet was able to +realise of excellence, and the modest and unpretending individual in +whom his confidence was reposed. The grand secret of the connection is +unfolded in the saying of the Macedonian conqueror, "Craterus loves the +king, but Hephaestion loves Alexander." Friendship is to the loftier +mind the repose, the unbending of the soul. The great man (whatever may +be the department in which his excellence consists) has enough of his +greatness, when he stands before the world, and receives the homage that +is paid to his merits. Ever and anon he is anxious to throw aside this +incumbrance, and be as a man merely to a man. He wishes to forget the +"pride, pomp, and circumstance" of greatness, and to be that only which +he is himself. He desires at length to be sure, that he receives +no adulation, that he is accosted with no insincerity, and that the +individual to whose society he has thought proper to withdraw, has no +by-ends, no sinister purposes in all his thoughts. What he seeks for, is +a true friend, a being who sincerely loves, one who is attached to +him, not for the accidents that attend him, but for what most strictly +belongs to him, and of which he cannot be divested. In this friend there +is neither interested intention nor rivalry. + +Such are the characteristic features of the superior party in these +exemplars of friendship among the ancients. Of the unpretending, +unassuming party Homer, the great master of the affections and emotions +in remoter ages, has given us the fullest portrait in the character of +Patroclus. The distinguishing feature of his disposition is a melting +and affectionate spirit, the concentred essence of tenderness and +humanity. When Patroclus comes from witnessing the disasters of the +Greeks, to collect a report of which he had been sent by Achilles, he +is "overwhelmed with floods of tears, like a spring which pours down +its waters from the steep edge of a precipice." It is thus that Jupiter +characterises him when he lies dead in the field of battle: + +Thou (addressing himself in his thoughts to Hector) hast slain the +friend of Achilles, not less memorable for the blandness of his temper, +than the bravery of his deeds. + +It is thus that Menelaus undertakes to excite the Grecian chiefs to +rescue his body: + +Let each man recollect the sweetness of his disposition for, as long as +he lived, he was unremitted in kindness to all. When Achilles proposes +the games at the funeral, he says, "On any other occasion my horses +should have started for the prize, but now it cannot be. They have lost +their incomparable groom, who was accustomed to refresh their limbs +with water, and anoint their flowing manes; and they are inconsolable." +Briseis also makes her appearance among the mourners, avowing that, +"when her husband had been slain in battle, and her native city laid in +ashes, this generous man prevented her tears, averring to her, that she +should be the wife of her conqueror, and that he would himself spread +the nuptial banquet for her in the hero's native kingdom of Phthia." + +The reciprocity which belongs to a friendship between unequals may +well be expected to give a higher zest to their union. Each party is +necessary to the other. The superior considers him towards whom he pours +out his affection, as a part of himself. + + The head is not more native to the heart, + The hand more instrumental to the mouth. + +He cannot separate himself from him, but at the cost of a fearful maim. +When the world is shut out by him, when he retires into solitude, and +falls back upon himself, then his unpretending friend is most of all +necessary to him. He is his consolation and his pleasure, the safe +coffer in which he reposits all his anxieties and sorrows. If the +principal, instead of being a public man, is a man of science, this kind +of unbending becomes certainly not the less welcome to him. He wishes +occasionally to forget the severity of his investigations, neither +to have his mind any longer wound up and stretched to the height of +meditation, nor to feel that he needs to be any way on his guard, or not +completely to give the rein to all his sallies and the sportiveness of +his soul. Having been for a considerable time shut up in sequestered +reflection, he wishes, it may be, to have the world, the busy +impassioned world, brought to his ears, without his being obliged to +enter into its formalities and mummeries. If he desires to speak of the +topics which had so deeply engaged him, he can keep as near the edge +as he pleases, and drop or resume them as his fancy may prompt. And it +seems useless to say, how much his modest and unassuming friend will be +gratified in being instrumental to relieve the labours of his principal, +in feeling that he is necessary to him, and in meditating on the delight +he receives in being made the chosen companion and confident of him +whom he so ardently admires. It was precisely in this spirit, that Fulke +Greville, two hundred years ago, directed that it should be inscribed on +his tomb, "Here lies the friend of Sir Philip Sidney." Tenderness on the +one part, and a deep feeling of honour and respect on the other, give a +completeness to the union which it must otherwise for ever want. "There +is no limit, none," to the fervour with which the stronger goes forward +to protect the weak; while in return the less powerful would encounter +a thousand deaths rather than injury should befall the being to whom in +generosity and affection he owes so much. + +In the mean time, though inequality is necessary to give this +completeness to friendship, the inequality must not be too great. + +The inferior party must be able to understand and appreciate the +sense and the merits of him to whom he is thus bound. There must be +no impediment to hinder the communications of the principal from being +fully comprehended, and his sentiments entirely participated. There must +be a boundless confidence, without apprehension that the power of +the stronger party can by the remotest possibility be put forth +ungenerously. "Perfect love casteth out fear." The evangelist applies +this aphorism even to the love of the creature to his creator. "The Lord +spake unto Moses, face to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend." +In the union of which I am treating the demonstrative and ordinary +appearance will be that of entire equality, which is heightened by the +inner, and for the greater part unexplained and undeveloped, impression +of a contrary nature. There is in either party a perfect reliance, an +idea of inequality with the most entire assurance that it can never +operate unworthily in the stronger party, or produce insincerity or +servility in the weaker. There will in reality always be some reserve, +some shadow of fear between equals, which in the friendship of unequals, +if happily assorted, can find no place. There is a pouring out of the +heart on the one side, and a cordial acceptance on the other, which +words are inadequate to describe. + +To proceed. If from friendship we go forward to that which in all +languages is emphatically called love, we shall still find ourselves +dogged and attended by inequality. Nothing can be more certain, however +we may seek to modify and abate it, than the inequality of the sexes. +Let us attend to it as it stands in Milton: + + For contemplation he and velour formed + For softness she and sweet attractive grace; + He for God only, she for God in him. + +Thus it is painted to us as having been in Paradise; and with similar +inequality have the sexes subsisted in all ages and nations since. If +it were possible to take from the fair sex its softness and attractive +grace, and endow it instead with audacious, masculine and military +qualities, there is scarcely any one that does not perceive, with +whatever advantages it might be attended in other respects, that it +would be far from tending to cherish and increase the passion of love. + +It is in reality obvious, that man and woman, as they come from the +hands of nature, are so much upon a par with each other, as not to +afford the best subjects between whom to graft a habit of entire, +unalterable affection. In the scenes of vulgar and ordinary society, +a permanent connection between persons of opposite sexes is too apt to +degenerate into a scene of warfare, where each party is for ever engaged +in a struggle for superiority, and neither will give way. A penetrating +observer, with whom in former days I used intimately to converse, was +accustomed to say, that there was generally more jarring and ill blood +between the two parties in the first year of their marriage, than during +all the remainder of their lives. It is at length found necessary, as +between equally matched belligerents on the theatre of history, that +they should come to terms, make a treaty of peace, or at least settle +certain laws of warfare, that they may not waste their strength in idle +hostilities. + +The nations of antiquity had a way of settling this question in a very +summary mode. As certain Oriental tribes have determined that women have +no souls, and that nothing can be more proper than to shut them up, +like singing birds in cages, so the Greeks and Romans for the most +part excluded their females from the society of the more martial sex. +Marriage with them was a convenience merely; and the husband and wife +were in reality nothing more than the master and the slave. This point +once settled as a matter of national law, there was certainly in most +cases little danger of any vexatious rivalship and struggle for power. + +But there is nothing in which the superiority of modern times over the +ancient has been more conspicuous, than in our sentiments and practices +on this subject. This superiority, as well as several other of our most +valuable acquisitions, took its rise in what we call the dark ages. +Chivalry was for the most part the invention of the eleventh century. +Its principle was built upon a theory of the sexes, giving to each a +relative importance, and assigning to both functions full of honour and +grace. The knights (and every gentleman during that period in due time +became a knight) were taught, as the main features of their vocation, +the "love of God and the ladies." The ladies in return were regarded as +the genuine censors of the deeds of knighthood. From these principles +arose a thousand lessons of humanity. The ladies regarded it as their +glory to assist their champions to arm and to disarm, to perform for +them even menial services, to attend them in sickness, and to dress +their wounds. They bestowed on them their colours, and sent them forth +to the field hallowed with their benedictions. The knights on the other +hand considered any slight towards the fair sex as an indelible stain to +their order; they contemplated the graceful patronesses of their valour +with a feeling that partook of religious homage and veneration, and +esteemed it as perhaps the first duty of their profession, to relieve +the wrongs, and avenge the injuries of the less powerful sex. + +This simple outline as to the relative position of the one sex and the +other, gave a new face to the whole scheme and arrangements of civil +society. It is like those admirable principles in the order of the +material universe, or those grand discoveries brought to light from time +to time by superior genius, so obvious and simple, that we wonder the +most common understanding could have missed them, yet so pregnant with +results, that they seem at once to put a new life and inspire a new +character into every part of a mighty and all-comprehensive mass. + +The passion between the sexes, in its grosser sense, is a momentary +impulse merely; and there was danger that, when the fit and violence +of the passion was over, the whole would subside into inconstancy and +a roving disposition, or at least into indifference and almost brutal +neglect. But the institutions of chivalry immediately gave a new face to +this. Either sex conceived a deep and permanent interest in the other. +In the unsettled state of society which characterised the period when +these institutions arose, the defenceless were liable to assaults of +multiplied kinds, and the fair perpetually stood in need of a protector +and a champion. The knights on the other hand were taught to derive +their fame and their honour from the suffrages of the ladies. Each sex +stood in need of the other; and the basis of their union was mutual +esteem. + +The effect of this was to give a hue of imagination to all their +intercourse. A man was no longer merely a man, nor a woman merely +a woman. They were taught mutual deference. The woman regarded her +protector as something illustrious and admirable; and the man considered +the smiles and approbation of beauty as the adequate reward of his toils +and his dangers. These modes of thinking introduced a nameless grace +into all the commerce of society. It was the poetry of life. Hence +originated the delightful narratives and fictions of romance; and human +existence was no longer the bare, naked train of vulgar incidents, +which for so many ages of the world it had been accustomed to be. It +was clothed in resplendent hues, and wore all the tints of the rainbow. +Equality fled and was no more; and love, almighty, perdurable love, came +to supply its place. + +By means of this state of things the vulgar impulse of the sexes towards +each other, which alone was known to the former ages of the world, was +transformed into somewhat of a totally different nature. It became +a kind of worship. The fair sex looked upon their protectors, their +fathers, their husbands, and the whole train of their chivalry, as +something more than human. There was a grace in their motions, a +gallantry in their bearing, and a generosity in their spirit of +enterprise, that the softness of the female heart found irresistible. +Nor less on the other hand did the knights regard the sex to whose +service and defence they were sworn, as the objects of their perpetual +deference. They approached them with a sort of gallant timidity, +listened to their behests with submission, and thought the longest +courtship and devotion nobly recompensed by the final acceptance of the +fair. + +The romance and exaggeration characteristic of these modes of thinking +have gradually worn away in modern times; but much of what was most +valuable in them has remained. Love has in later ages never been +divested of the tenderness and consideration, which were thus rendered +some of its most estimable features. A certain desire in each party +to exalt the other, and regard it as worthy of admiration, became +inextricably interwoven with the simple passion. A sense of the honour +that was borne by the one to the other, had the happiest effect in +qualifying the familiarity and unreserve in the communion of feelings +and sentiments, without which the attachment of the sexes cannot +subsist. It is something like what the mystic divines describe of the +beatific vision, where entire wonder and adoration are not judged to be +incompatible with the most ardent affection, and all meaner and selfish +regards are annihilated. + +From what has been thus drawn together and recapitulated it seems +clearly to follow, as was stated in the beginning, that love cannot +exist in its purest form and with a genuine ardour, where the parties +are, and are felt by each other to be, on an equality; but that in all +cases it is requisite there should be a mutual deference and submission, +agreeably to the apostolic precept, "Likewise all of you be subject one +to the other." There must be room for the imagination to exercise its +powers; we must conceive and apprehend a thousand things which we do +not actually witness; each party must feel that it stands in need of +the other, and without the other cannot be complete; each party must be +alike conscious of the power of receiving and conferring benefit; and +there must be the anticipation of a distant future, that may every day +enhance the good to be imparted and enjoyed, and cause the individuals +thus united perpetually to become more sensible of the fortunate +event which gave them to each other, and has thus entailed upon each a +thousand advantages in which they could otherwise never have shared. + + + + +ESSAY XVI. OF FRANKNESS AND RESERVE. + +Animals are divided into the solitary and the are gregarious: the former +being only occasionally associated with its mate, and perhaps engaged in +the care of its offspring; the latter spending their lives in herds and +communities. Man is of this last class or division. + +Where the animals of any particular species live much in society, it +seems requisite that in some degree they should be able to understand +each other's purposes, and to act with a certain portion of concert. + +All other animals are exceedingly limited in their powers of +communication. But speech renders that being whom we justly entitle the +lord of the creation, capable of a boundless interchange of ideas and +intentions. Not only can we communicate to each other substantively our +elections and preferences: we can also exhort and persuade, and employ +reasons and arguments to convince our fellows, that the choice we have +made is also worthy of their adoption. We can express our thoughts, and +the various lights and shades, the bleedings, of our thoughts. Language +is an instrument capable of being perpetually advanced in copiousness, +perspicuity and power. + +No principle of morality can be more just, than that which teaches us +to regard every faculty we possess as a power intrusted to us for the +benefit of others as well as of ourselves, and which therefore we are +bound to employ in the way which shall best conduce to the general +advantage. + +"Speech was given us, that by it we might express our thoughts(34);" in +other words, our impressions, ideas and conceptions. We then therefore +best fulfil the scope of our nature, when we sincerely and unreservedly +communicate to each other our feelings and apprehensions. Speech should +be to man in the nature of a fair complexion, the transparent medium +through which the workings of the mind should be made legible. + + + (34) Moliere. + + +I think I have somewhere read of Socrates, that certain of his friends +expostulated with him, that the windows of his house were so constructed +that every one who went by could discover all that passed within. "And +wherefore not?" said the sage. "I do nothing that I would wish to have +concealed from any human eye. If I knew that all the world observed +every thing I did, I should feel no inducement to change my conduct in +the minutest particular." + +It is not however practicable that frankness should be carried to the +extent above mentioned. It has been calculated that the human mind is +capable of being impressed with three hundred and twenty sensations in +a second of time. At all events we well know that, even "while I am +speaking, a variety of sensations are experienced by me, without so much +as interrupting, that is, without materially diverting, the train of +my ideas. My eye successively remarks a thousand objects that present +themselves, and my mind wanders to the different parts of my body, +without occasioning the minutest obstacle to my discourse, or my being +in any degree distracted by the multiplicity of these objects(35)." +It is therefore beyond the reach of the faculty of speech, for me to +communicate all the sensations I experience; and I am of necessity +reduced to a selection. + + + (35) See above, Essay 7. + + +Nor is this the whole. We do not communicate all that we feel, and all +that we think; for this would be impertinent. We owe a certain deference +and consideration to our fellow-men; we owe it in reality to ourselves. +We do not communicate indiscriminately all that passes within us. The +time would fail us; and "the world would not contain the books that +might be written." We do not speak merely for the sake of speaking; +otherwise the communication of man with his fellow would be but one +eternal babble. Speech is to be employed for some useful purpose; nor +ought we to give utterance to any thing that shall not promise to be in +some way productive of benefit or amusement. + +Frankness has its limits, beyond which it would cease to be either +advantageous or virtuous. We are not to tell every thing: but we are not +to conceal any thing, that it would be useful or becoming in us to +utter. Our first duty regarding the faculty of speech is, not to keep +back what it would be beneficial to our neighbour to know. But this is a +negative sincerity only. If we would acquire a character for frankness, +we must be careful that our conversation is such, as to excite in him +the idea that we are open, ingenuous and fearless. We must appear +forward to speak all that will give him pleasure, and contribute to +maintain in him an agreeable state of being. It must be obvious that we +are not artificial and on our guard.--After all, it is difficult to lay +down rules on this subject: the spring of whatever is desirable +respecting it, must be in the temper of the man with whom others have +intercourse. He must be benevolent, sympathetic and affectionate. His +heart must overflow with good-will; and he must be anxious to relieve +every little pain, and to contribute to the enjoyment and complacent +feelings, of those with whom he is permanently or accidentally +connected. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." + +There are two considerations by which we ought to be directed in the +exercise of the faculty of speech. + +The first is, that we should tell our neighbour all that it would be +useful to him to know. We must have no sinister or bye ends. "No man +liveth to himself." We are all of us members of the great congregation +of mankind. The same blood should circulate through every limb and every +muscle. Our pulses should beat time to each other; and we should have +one common sensorium, vibrating throughout, upon every material accident +that occurs, and when any object is at stake essentially affecting the +welfare of our fellow-beings. We should forget ourselves in the interest +that we feel for the happiness of others; and, if this were universal, +each man would be a gainer, inasmuch as he lost himself, and was cared +and watched for by many. + +In all these respects we must have no reserve. We should only consider +what it is that it would be beneficial to have declared. + +We must not look back to ourselves, and consult the dictates of a narrow +and self-interested prudence. The whole essence of communication is +adulterated, if, instead of attending to the direct effects of what +suggests itself to our tongue, we are to consider how by a circuitous +route it may react upon our own pleasures and advantage. + +Nor only are we bound to communicate to our neighbour all that it will +be useful to him to know. We have many neighbours, beside those to whom +we immediately address ourselves. To these our absent fellow-beings, +we owe a thousand duties. We are bound to defend those whom we hear +aspersed, and who are spoken unworthily of by the persons whom we +incidentally encounter. We should be the forward and spontaneous +advocates of merit in every shape and in every individual in whom we +know it to exist. What a character would that man make for himself, of +whom it was notorious that he consecrated his faculty of speech to the +refuting unjust imputations against whomsoever they were directed, to +the contradicting all false and malicious reports, and to the bringing +forth obscure and unrecognised worth from the shades in which it lay +hid! What a world should we live in, if all men were thus prompt and +fearless to do justice to all the worth they knew or apprehended to +exist! Justice, simple justice, if it extended no farther than barely +to the faculty of speech, would in no long time put down all +misrepresentation and calumny, bring all that is good and meritorious +into honour, and, so to speak, set every man in his true and rightful +position. But whoever would attempt this, must do it in all honour, +without parade, and with no ever-and-anon looking back upon his +achievement, and saying, See to how much credit I am entitled!--as if +he laid more stress upon himself, the doer of this justice, than upon +justice in its intrinsic nature and claims. + +But we not only owe something to the advantage and interest of our +neighbours, but something also to the sacred divinity of Truth. I am not +only to tell my neighbour whatever I know that may be beneficial to him, +respecting his position in society, his faults, what other men appear to +contemplate that may conduce to his advantage or injury, and to advise +him how the one may best be forwarded, or the other defeated and brought +to nothing: I am bound also to consider in what way it may be in my +power so to act on his mind, as shall most enlarge his views, confirm +and animate his good resolutions, and meliorate his dispositions and +temper. We are all members of one great community: and we shall never +sufficiently discharge our duty in that respect, till, like the ancient +Spartans, the love of the whole becomes our predominant passion, and we +cease to imagine that we belong to ourselves, so much as to the entire +body of which we are a part. There are certain views in morality, in +politics, and various other important subjects, the general prevalence +of which will be of the highest benefit to the society of which we are +members; and it becomes us in this respect, with proper temperance and +moderation, to conform ourselves to the zealous and fervent precept of +the apostle, to "promulgate the truth and be instant, in season and out +of season," that we may by all means leave some monument of our good +intentions behind us, and feel that we have not lived in vain. + +There is a maxim extremely in vogue in the ordinary intercourses of +society, which deserves to be noticed here, for the purpose of exposing +it to merited condemnation. It is very common between friends, or +persons calling themselves such, to say, "Do not ask my advice in a +certain crisis of your life; I will not give it; hereafter, if the +thing turns out wrong, you will reflect on me, and say that it was at +my suggestion that you were involved in calamity." This is a dastardly +excuse, and shews a pitiful selfishness in the man that urges it. + +It is true, that we ought ever to be on the alert, that we may not +induce our friend into evil. We should be upon our guard, that we may +not from overweening arrogance and self-conceit dictate to another, +overpower his more sober judgment, and assume a rashness for him, in +which perhaps we would not dare to indulge for ourselves. We should +be modest in our suggestions, and rather supply him with materials for +decision, than with a decision absolutely made. There may however be +cases where an opposite proceeding is necessary. We must arrest our +friend, nay, even him who is merely our fellow-creature, with a strong +arm, when we see him hovering on the brink of a precipice, or the danger +is so obvious, that nothing but absolute blindness could conceal it from +an impartial bystander. + +But in all cases our best judgment should always be at the service of +our brethren of mankind. "Give to him that asketh thee; and from him +that would borrow of thee turn not thou away." + +This may not always be practicable or just, when applied to the goods of +fortune: but the case of advice, information, and laws of conduct, comes +within that of Ennius, to suffer our neighbour to light his candle at +our lamp. To do so will enrich him, without making us a jot the poorer. +We should indeed respect the right of private judgment, and scarcely +in any case allow our will to supersede his will in his own proper +province. But we should on no account suffer any cowardly fears for +ourselves, to induce us to withhold from him any assistance that our +wider information or our sounder judgment might supply to him. + +The next consideration by which we should be directed in the exercise +of the faculty of speech, is that we should employ it so as should best +conduce to the pleasure of our neighbour. Man is a different creature in +the savage and the civilised state. It has been affirmed, and it may be +true, that the savage man is a stranger to that disagreeable frame of +mind, known by the name of ennui. He can pore upon the babbling stream, +or stretch himself upon a sunny bank, from the rising to the setting of +the sun, and be satisfied. He is scarcely roused from this torpid state +but by the cravings of nature. If they can be supplied without effort, +he immediately relapses into his former supineness; and, if it requires +search, industry and exertion to procure their gratification, he still +more eagerly embraces the repose, which previous fatigue renders doubly +welcome. + +But, when the mind has once been wakened up from its original lethargy, +when we have overstepped the boundary which divides the man from the +beast, and are made desirous of improvement, while at the same +moment the tumultuous passions that draw us in infinitely diversified +directions are called into act, the case becomes exceedingly different. +It might be difficult at first to rouse man from his original lethargy: +it is next to impossible that he should ever again be restored to it. +The appetite of the mind being once thoroughly awakened in society, the +human species are found to be perpetually craving after new intellectual +food. We read, we write, we discourse, we ford rivers, and scale +mountains, and engage in various pursuits, for the pure pleasure that +the activity and earnestness of the pursuit afford us. The day of the +savage and the civilised man are still called by the same name. They may +be measured by a pendulum, and will be found to be of the same duration. +But in all other points of view they are inexpressibly different. + +Hence therefore arises another duty that is incumbent upon us as to the +exercise of the faculty of speech. This duty will be more or less urgent +according to the situation in which we are placed. + +If I sit down in a numerous assembly, if I become one of a convivial +party of ten or twelve persons, I may unblamed be for the greater part, +or entirely silent, if I please. I must appear to enter into their +sentiments and pleasures, or, if I do not, I shall be an unwelcome +guest; but it may scarcely be required for me to clothe my feelings with +articulate speech. + +But, when my society shall be that of a few friends only, and still more +if the question is of spending hours or days in the society of a single +friend, my duty becomes altered, and a greater degree of activity will +be required from me. There are cases, where the minor morals of the +species will be of more importance than those which in their own nature +are cardinal. Duties of the highest magnitude will perhaps only +be brought into requisition upon extraordinary occasions; but the +opportunities we have of lessening the inconveniences of our neighbour, +or of adding to his accommodations and the amount of his agreeable +feelings, are innumerable. An acceptable and welcome member of society +therefore will not talk, only when he has something important to +communicate. He will also study how he may amuse his friend with +agreeable narratives, lively remarks, sallies of wit, or any of those +thousand nothings, which' set off with a wish to please and a benevolent +temper, will often entertain more and win the entire good will of the +person to whom they are addressed, than the wisest discourse, or the +vein of conversation which may exhibit the powers and genius of the +speaker to the greatest advantage. + +Men of a dull and saturnine complexion will soon get to an end of all +they felt it incumbent on them to say to their comrades. But the same +thing will probably happen, though at a much later period, between +friends of an active mind, of the largest stores of information, +and whose powers have been exercised upon the greatest variety of +sentiments, principles, and original veins of thinking. When two +such men first fall into society, each will feel as if he had found +a treasure. Their communications are without end; their garrulity is +excited, and converts into a perennial spring. The topics upon which +they are prompted to converse are so numerous, that one seems to jostle +out the other. + +It may proceed thus from day to day, from month to month, and perhaps +from year to year. But, according to the old proverb, "It is a long +lane that has no turning." The persons here described will have a vast +variety of topics upon which they are incited to compare their opinions, +and will lay down these topics and take them up again times without +number. Upon some, one of the parties will feel himself entirely at home +while the other is comparatively a novice, and, in others, the advantage +will be with the other; so that the gain of both, in this free and +unrestrained opening of the soul, will be incalculable. But the time +will come, like as in perusing an author of the most extraordinary +genius and the most versatile powers, that the reading of each other's +minds will be exhausted. They know so much of each other's tone of +thinking, that all that can be said will be anticipated. The living +voice, the sparkling eye, and the beaming countenance will do much to +put off the evil day, when we shall say, I have had enough. But the time +will come in which we shall feel that this after all is but little, and +we shall become sluggish, ourselves to communicate, or to excite the +dormant faculties of our friend, when the spring, the waters of which so +long afforded us the most exquisite delight, is at length drawn dry. + +I remember in my childish years being greatly struck with that passage +in the Bible, where it is written, "But I say unto you, that, for every +idle word that men shall speak, they shall give an account in the day +of judgment:" and, as I was very desirous of conforming myself to the +directions of the sacred volume, I was upon the point of forming a +sort of resolution, that I would on no account open my mouth to speak, +without having a weighty reason for uttering the thing I felt myself +prompted to say. + +But practical directions of this sort are almost in all cases of +ambiguous interpretation. From the context of this passage it is clear, +that by "idle words" we are to understand vicious words, words tending +to instil into the mind unauthorised impulses, that shew in the man who +speaks "a will most rank, foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural," and +are calculated to render him by whom they are listened to, light and +frivolous of temper, and unstrung for the graver duties of human life. + +But idle words, in the sense of innocent amusement, are not vicious. +"There is a time for all things." Amusement must not encroach upon +or thrust aside the real business, the important engagements, and +the animated pursuits of man. But it is entitled to take its turn +unreproved. Human life is so various, and the disposition and temper of +the mind of so different tones and capacity, that a wise man will "frame +his face to all occasions." Playfulness, if not carried to too great an +extreme, is an additional perfection in human nature. We become relieved +from our more serious cares, and better fitted to enter on them again +after an interval. To fill up the days of our lives with various +engagements, to make one occupation succeed to another, so as to +liberate us from the pains of ennui, and the dangers of what may in an +emphatical sense be called idleness, is no small desideratum. That king +may in this sense be admitted to have formed no superficial estimate +of our common nature, who is said to have proclaimed a reward to the +individual that should invent a new amusement. + +And, to consider the question as it stands in relation to the subject of +the present Essay, a perpetual gravity and a vigilant watch to be placed +on the door of our lips, would be eminently hostile to that frankness +which is to be regarded as one of the greatest ornaments of our +nature. "It is meet, that we should make merry and be glad." A formal +countenance, a demure, careful and unaltered cast of features, is one +of the most disadvantageous aspects under which human nature can exhibit +itself. The temper must be enterprising and fearless, the manner firm +and assured, and the correspondence between the heart and the tongue +prompt and instantaneous, if we desire to have that view of man that +shall do him the most credit, and induce us to form the most honourable +opinion respecting him. On our front should sit fearless confidence and +unsubdued hilarity. Our limbs should be free and unfettered, a state of +the animal which imparts a grace infinitely more winning than that of +the most skilful dancer. The very sound of our voice should be full, +firm, mellow, and fraught with life and sensibility; of that nature, at +the hearing of which every bosom rises, and every eye is lighted up. It +is thus that men come to understand and confide in each other. This is +the only frame that can perfectly conduce to our moral improvement, +the awakening of our faculties, the diffusion of science, and the +establishment of the purest notions and principles of civil and +political liberty. + + + + +ESSAY XVII. OF BALLOT. + +The subject of the preceding Essay leads by an obvious transition to +the examination of a topic, which at present occupies to a considerable +extent the attention of those who are anxious for the progress of public +improvement, and the placing the liberties of mankind on the securest +basis: I mean, the topic of the vote by ballot. + +It is admitted that the most beneficial scheme for the government of +nations, is a government by representation: that is, that there shall +be in every nation, or large collection of men, a paramount legislative +assembly, composed of deputies chosen by the people in their respective +counties, cities, towns, or departments. In what manner then shall these +deputies be elected? + +The argument in favour of the election by ballot is obvious. + +In nearly all civilised countries there exists more or less an +inequality of rank and property: we will confine our attention +principally to the latter. + +Property necessarily involves influence. Mankind are but too prone +to pay a superior deference to those who wear better clothes, live in +larger houses, and command superior accommodations to those which fall +to the lot of the majority. + +One of the main sources of wealth in civilised nations is the possession +of land. Those who have a considerable allotment of land in property, +for the most part let it out in farms on lease or otherwise to persons +of an inferior rank, by whom it is cultivated. In this case a reciprocal +relation is created between the landlord and the tenant: and, if the +landlord conducts himself towards his tenant agreeably to the principles +of honour and liberality, it is impossible that the tenant should not +feel disposed to gratify his landlord, so far as shall be compatible +with his own notions of moral rectitude, or the paramount interests of +the society of which he is a member. + +If the proprietor of any extensive allotment of land does not let it out +in farms, but retains it under his own direction, he must employ a great +number of husbandmen and labourers; and over them he must be expected +to exercise the same sort of influence, as under the former statement we +supposed him to exercise over his tenants. + +The same principle will still operate wherever any one man in society is +engaged in the expenditure of a considerable capital. The manufacturer +will possess the same influence over his workmen, as the landed +proprietor over his tenants or labourers. Even the person who possesses +considerable opulence, and has no intention to engage in the pursuits of +profit or accumulation, will have an ample retinue, and will be +enabled to use the same species of influence over his retainers and +trades-people, as the landlord exercises over his tenants and labourers, +and the manufacturer over his workmen. + +A certain degree of this species of influence in society, is perhaps not +to be excepted against. The possessor of opulence in whatever form, may +be expected to have received a superior education, and, being placed at +a certain distance from the minuter details and the lesser wheels in the +machine of society, to have larger and more expansive views as to +the interests of the whole. It is good that men in different ranks of +society should be brought into intercourse with each other; it will +subtract something from the prejudices of both, and enable each to +obtain some of the advantages of the other. The division of rank is too +much calculated to split society into parties having a certain hostility +to each other. In a free state we are all citizens: it is desirable that +we should all be friends. + +But this species of influence may be carried too far. To a certain +extent it is good. Inasmuch as it implies the enlightening one human +understanding by the sparks struck out from another, or even the +communication of feelings between man and man, this is not to be +deprecated. Some degree of courteous compliance and deference of the +ignorant to the better informed, is inseparable from the existence of +political society as we behold it; such a deference as we may conceive +the candid and conscientious layman to pay to the suggestions of his +honest and disinterested pastor. + +Every thing however that is more than this, is evil. There should be no +peremptory mandates, and no threat or apprehension of retaliation and +mischief to follow, if the man of inferior station or opulence should +finally differ in opinion from his wealthier neighbour. We may admit +of a moral influence; but there must be nothing, that should in the +smallest degree border on compulsion. + +But it is unfortunately in the very nature of weak, erring and fallible +mortals, to make an ill use of the powers that are confided to their +discretion. The rich man in the wantonness of his authority will not +stop at moral influence, but, if he is disappointed of his expectation +by what he will call my wilfulness and obstinacy, will speedily +find himself impelled to vindicate his prerogative, and to punish my +resistance. In every such disappointment he will discern a dangerous +precedent, and will apprehend that, if I escape with impunity, the +whole of that ascendancy, which he has regarded as one of the valuable +privileges contingent to his station, will be undermined. + +Opulence has two ways of this grosser sort, by which it may enable its +possessor to command the man below him,--punishment and reward. As the +holder, for example, of a large landed estate, or the administrator of +an ample income, may punish the man who shews himself refractory to +his will, so he may also reward the individual who yields to his +suggestions. This, in whatever form it presents itself, may be classed +under the general head of bribery. + +The remedy for all this therefore, real or potential, mischief, is said +to lie in the vote by ballot, a contrivance, by means of which every man +shall be enabled to give his vote in favour of or against any candidate +that shall be nominated, in absolute secrecy, without it being possible +for any one to discover on which side the elector decided,--nay, a +contrivance, by which the elector is invited to practise mystery and +concealment, inasmuch as it would seem an impertinence in him to speak +out, when the law is expressly constructed to bid him act and be silent. +If he speaks, he is guilty of a sort of libel on his brother-electors, +who are hereby implicitly reproached by him for their impenetrableness +and cowardice. + +We are told that the institution of the ballot is indispensible to the +existence of a free state, in a country where the goods of fortune are +unequally distributed. In England, as the right of sending members +to parliament is apportioned at the time I am writing, the power of +electing is bestowed with such glaring inequality, and the number of +electors in many cases is so insignificant, as inevitably to give to the +noble and the rich the means of appointing almost any representatives +they think fit, so that the house of commons may more justly be styled +the nominees of the upper house, than the deputies of the nation. And +it is further said, Remedy this inequality as much as you please, and +reform the state of the representation to whatever degree, still, so +long as the votes at elections are required to be given openly, the +reform will be unavailing, and the essential part of the mischief will +remain. The right of giving our votes in secrecy, is the only remedy +that can cut off the ascendancy of the more opulent members of the +community over the rest, and give us the substance of liberty, instead +of cheating us with the shadow. + +On the other side I would beg the reader to consider, that the vote by +ballot, in its obvious construction, is not the symbol of liberty, but +of slavery. What is it, that presents to every eye the image of liberty, +and compels every heart to confess, This is the temple where she +resides? An open front, a steady and assured look, an habitual and +uninterrupted commerce between the heart and the tongue. The free man +communicates with his neighbour, not in corners and concealed places, +but in market-places and scenes of public resort; and it is thus that +the sacred spark is caught from man to man, till all are inspired with a +common flame. Communication and publicity are of the essence of liberty; +it is the air they breathe; and without it they die. + +If on the contrary I would characterise a despotism, I should say, It +implied a certain circumference of soil, through whose divisions and +districts every man suspected his neighbour, where every man was +haunted with the terror that "walls have ears," and only whispered his +discontent, his hopes and his fears, to the trees of the forest and +the silent streams. If the dwellers on this soil consulted together, it +would be in secret cabals and with closed doors; engaging in the sacred +cause of public welfare and happiness, as if it were a thing of guilt, +which the conspirator scarcely ventured to confess to his own heart. + +A shrewd person of my acquaintance the other day, to whom I unadvisedly +proposed a question as to what he thought of some public transaction, +instantly replied with symptoms of alarm, "I beg to say that I never +disclose my opinions upon matters either of religion or politics to any +one." What did this answer imply as to the political government of the +country where it was given? + +Is it characteristic of a free state or a tyranny? + +One of the first and highest duties that falls to the lot of a human +creature, is that which he owes to the aggregate of reasonable beings +inhabiting what he calls his country. Our duties are then most solemn +and elevating, when they are calculated to affect the well being of the +greatest number of men; and of consequence what a patriot owes to his +native soil is the noblest theatre for his moral faculties. And shall we +teach men to discharge this debt in the dark? Surely every man ought +to be able to "render a reason of the hope that is in him," and give +a modest, but an assured, account of his political conduct. When he +approaches the hustings at the period of a public election, this is his +altar, where he sacrifices in the face of men to that deity, which is +most worth his adoration of all the powers whose single province is our +sublunary state. + +But the principle of the institution of ballot is to teach men to +perform their best actions under the cloke of concealment. When I return +from giving my vote in the choice of a legislative representative, +I ought, if my mode of proceeding were regulated by the undebauched +feelings of our nature, to feel somewhat proud that I had discharged +this duty, uninfluenced, uncorrupted, in the sincere frame of a +conscientious spirit. But the institution of ballot instigates me +carefully to conceal what I have done. If I am questioned respecting it, +the proper reply which is as it were put into my mouth is, "You have +no right to ask me; and I shall not tell." But, as every man does not +recollect the proper reply at the moment it is wanted, and most men feel +abashed, when a direct question is put to them to which they know they +are not to return a direct answer, many will stammer and feel confused, +will perhaps insinuate a falshood, while at the same time their manner +to a discerning eye will, in spite of all their precautions, disclose +the very truth. + +The institution of ballot not only teaches us that our best actions are +those which we ought most steadily to disavow, but carries distrust +and suspicion into all our most familiar relations. The man I want to +deceive, and throw out in the keenness of his hunting, is my landlord. +But how shall I most effectually conceal the truth from him? May I be +allowed to tell it to my wife or my child? I had better not. It is a +known maxim of worldly prudence, that the truth which may be a source of +serious injury to me, is safest, when it is shut up in my own bosom. If +I once let it out, there is no saying where the communication may +stop. "Day unto day uttereth speech; and night unto night sheweth forth +knowledge." + +And is this the proud attitude of liberty, to which we are so eager to +aspire? After all, there will be some ingenuous men in the community, +who will not know how for ever to suppress what is dearest to their +hearts. But at any rate this institution holds out a prize to him that +shall be most secret and untraceable in his proceedings, that shall +"shoe his horses with felt," and proceed in all his courses with silence +and suspicion. + +The first principle of morality to social man is, that we act under the +eye of our fellows. The truly virtuous man would do as he ought, though +no eye observed him. Persons, it is true, who deport themselves merely +as "men-pleasers," for ever considering how the by-standers will +pronounce of their conduct, are entitled to small commendation. The good +man, it is certain, will see + + To do what virtue would, though sun and moon + Were in the flat sea sunk. + +But, imperfect creatures as we mortals usually are, these things act +and react upon each other. A man of honourable intentions will demean +himself justly, from the love of right. But he is confirmed in his just +dealing by the approbation of his fellows; and, if he were tempted to +step awry, he would be checked by the anticipation of their censure. +Such is the nature of our moral education. It is with virtue, as it is +with literary fame. If I write well, I can scarcely feel secure that I +do so, till I obtain the suffrage of some competent judges, confirming +the verdict which I was before tempted to pronounce in my own favour. + +This acting as in a theatre, where men and Gods are judges of my +conduct, is the true destination of man; and we cannot violate the +universal law under which we were born, without having reason to fear +the most injurious effects. + +And is this mysterious and concealed way of proceeding one of the forms +through which we are to pass in the school of liberty? The great end of +all liberal institutions is, to make a man fearless, frank as the day, +acting from a lively and earnest impulse, which will not be restrained, +disdains all half-measures, and prompts us, as it were, to carry our +hearts in our hands, for all men to challenge, and all men to comment +on. It is true, that the devisers of liberal institutions will have +foremost in their thoughts, how men shall be secure in their personal +liberty, unrestrained in the execution of what their thoughts prompt +them to do, and uncontrolled in the administration of the fruits of +their industry. But the moral end of all is, that a man shall be worthy +of the name, erect, independent of mind, spontaneous of decision, +intrepid, overflowing with all good feelings, and open in the expression +of the sentiments they inspire. If man is double in his weightiest +purposes, full of ambiguity and concealment, and not daring to give +words to the impulses of his soul, what matters it that he is free? We +may pronounce of this man, that he is unworthy of the blessing that +has fallen to his lot, and will never produce the fruits that should be +engendered in the lap of liberty. + +There is however, it should seem, a short answer to all this. It is +in vain to expatiate to us upon the mischiefs of lying, hypocrisy and +concealment, since it is only through them, as the way by which we are +to march, that nations can be made free. + +This certainly is a fearful judgment awarded upon our species: but is it +true? + +We are to begin, it seems, with concealing from our landlord, or our +opulent neighbour, our political determinations; and so his corrupt +influence will be broken, and the humblest individual will be safe in +doing that which his honest and unbiased feelings may prompt him to do. + +No: this is not the way in which the enemy of the souls of men is to be +defeated. We must not begin with the confession of our faint-heartedness +and our cowardice. A quiet, sober, unaltered frame of judgment, that +insults no one, that has in it nothing violent, brutal and defying, is +the frame that becomes us. If I would teach another man, my superior +in rank, how he ought to construe and decide upon the conduct I hold, I +must begin by making that conduct explicit. + +It is not in morals, as it is in war. There stratagem is allowable, and +to take the enemy by surprise. "Who enquires of an enemy, whether it is +by fraud or heroic enterprise that he has gained the day?" But it is not +so that the cause of liberty is to be vindicated in the civil career of +life. + +The question is of reducing the higher ranks of society to admit the +just immunities of their inferiors. I will not allow that they shall be +cheated into it. No: no man was ever yet recovered to his senses in a +question of morals, but by plain, honest, soul-commanding speech. Truth +is omnipotent, if we do not violate its majesty by surrendering its +outworks, and giving up that vantage-ground, of which if we deprive it, +it ceases to be truth. It finds a responsive chord in every human bosom. +Whoever hears its voice, at the same time recognises its power. However +corrupt he may be, however steeped in the habits of vice, and hardened +in the practices of tyranny, if it be mildly, distinctly, emphatically +enunciated, the colour will forsake his cheek, his speech will alter and +be broken, and he will feel himself unable to turn it off lightly, as a +thing of no impression and validity. In this way the erroneous man, +the man nursed in the house of luxury, a stranger to the genuine, +unvarnished state of things, stands a fair chance of being corrected. + +But, if an opposite, and a truer way of thinking than that to which he +is accustomed, is only brought to his observation by the reserve of him +who entertains it, and who, while he entertains it, is reluctant to +hold communion with his wealthier neighbour, who regards him as his +adversary, and hardly admits him to be of the same common nature, there +will be no general improvement. Under this discipline the two ranks of +society will be perpetually more estranged, view each other with +eye askance, and will be as two separate and hostile states, though +inhabiting the same territory. Is this the picture we desire to see of +genuine liberty, philanthropic, desirous of good to all, and overflowing +with all generous emotions? + + I hate where vice can bolt her arguments, + And virtue has no tongue to check her pride. + +The man who interests himself for his country and its cause, who acts +bravely and independently, and knows that he runs some risk in doing +so, must have a strange opinion of the sacredness of truth, if the very +consciousness of having done nobly does not supply him with courage, +and give him that simple, unostentatious firmness, which shall carry +immediate conviction to the heart. It is a bitter lesson that the +institution of ballot teaches, while it says, "You have done well; +therefore be silent; whisper it not to the winds; disclose it not to +those who are most nearly allied to you; adopt the same conduct which +would suggest itself to you, if you had perpetrated an atrocious crime." + +In no long time after the commencement of the war of the allies against +France, certain acts were introduced into the English parliament, +declaring it penal by word or writing to utter any thing that should +tend to bring the government into contempt; and these acts, by the mass +of the adversaries of despotic power, were in way of contempt called the +Gagging Acts. Little did I and my contemporaries of 1795 imagine, when +we protested against these acts in the triumphant reign of William Pitt, +that the soi-disant friends of liberty and radical reformers, when their +turn of triumph came, would propose their Gagging Acts, recommending to +the people to vote agreeably to their consciences, but forbidding them +to give publicity to the honourable conduct they had been prevailed on +to adopt! + +But all this reasoning is founded in an erroneous, and groundlessly +degrading, opinion of human nature. The improvement of the general +institutions of society, the correction of the gross inequalities of our +representation, will operate towards the improvement of all the members +of the community. While ninety-nine in an hundred of the inhabitants +of England are carried forward in the scale of intellect and virtue, +it would be absurd to suppose that the hundredth man will stand still, +merely because he is rich. Patriotism is a liberal and a social impulse; +its influence is irresistible; it is contagious, and is propagated +by the touch; it is infectious, and mixes itself with the air that we +breathe. + +Men are governed in their conduct in a surprising degree by the opinion +of others. It was all very well, when noblemen were each of them +satisfied of the equity and irresistible principle of their ascendancy, +when the vulgar population felt convinced that passive obedience was +entailed on them from their birth, when we were in a manner but just +emancipated (illusorily emancipated!) from the state of serfs and +villains. But a memorable melioration of the state of man will carry +some degree of conviction to the hearts of all. The most corrupt will +be made doubtful: many who had not gone so far in ill, will desert the +banners of oppression. + +We see this already. What a shock was propagated through the island, +when, the other day, a large proprietor, turning a considerable cluster +of his tenants out of the houses and lands they occupied, because they +refused to vote for a representative in parliament implicitly as he bade +them, urged in his own justification, "Shall I not do what I will with +my own?" This was all sound morals and divinity perhaps at the period +of his birth. Nobody disputed it; or, if any one did, he was set down +by the oracles of the vicinage as a crackbrained visionary. This man, so +confident in his own prerogatives, had slept for the last twenty years, +and awoke totally unconscious of what had been going on in almost every +corner of Europe in the interval. A few more such examples; and so broad +and sweeping an assumption will no more be heard of, and it will remain +in the records of history, as a thing for the reality of which we have +sufficient evidence, but which common sense repudiates, and which seems +to demand from us a certain degree of credulity to induce us to admit +that it had ever been. + +The manners of society are by no means so unchanged and unalterable +as many men suppose. It is here, as in the case of excessive drinking, +which I had lately occasion to mention(36). In rude and barbarous +times men of the highest circles piqued themselves upon their power of +swallowing excessive potations, and found pleasure in it. It is in this +as in so many other vices, we follow implicitly where our elders lead +the way. But the rage of drinking is now gone by; and you will with +difficulty find a company of persons of respectable appearance, who +assemble round a table for the purpose of making beasts of themselves. +Formerly it was their glory; now, if any man unhappily retains the +weakness, he hides it from his equals, as he would a loathsome disease. +The same thing will happen as to parliamentary corruption, and the +absolute authority that was exercised by landlords over the consciences +of their tenants. He that shall attempt to put into act what is then +universally condemned, will be a marked man, and will be generally +shunned by his fellows. The eye of the world will be upon him, as the +murderer fancies himself followed by the eye of omnipotence; and he will +obey the general voice of the community, that he may be at peace with +himself. + + + (36) See above, Essay 9. + + +Let us not then disgrace a period of memorable improvement, by combining +it with an institution that should mark that we, the great body of the +people, regard the more opulent members of the community as our foes. +Let us hold out to them the right hand of fellowship; and they will meet +us. They will be influenced, partly by ingenuous shame for the unworthy +conduct which they and their fathers had so long pursued, and partly by +sympathy for the genuine joy and expansion of heart that is spreading +itself through the land. Scarcely any one can restrain himself from +participating in the happiness of the great body of his countrymen; +and, if they see that we treat them with generous confidence, and are +unwilling to recur to the memory of former grievances, and that a spirit +of philanthropy and unlimited good-will is the sentiment of the day, it +can scarcely happen but that their conversion will be complete, and the +harmony be made entire(37). + + + (37) The subject of this Essay is resumed in the close of the following. + + + + +ESSAY XVIII. OF DIFFIDENCE. + +The following Essay will be to a considerable degree in the nature of +confession, like the Confessions of St. Augustine or of Jean Jacques +Rousseau. It may therefore at first sight appear of small intrinsic +value, and scarcely worthy of a place in the present series. But, as I +have had occasion more than once to remark, we are all of us framed in a +great measure on the same model, and the analysis of the individual +may often stand for the analysis of a species. While I describe +myself therefore, I shall probably at the same time be describing no +inconsiderable number of my fellow-beings. + +It is true, that the duty of man under the head of Frankness, is of a +very comprehensive nature. We ought all of us to tell to our neighbour +whatever it may be of advantage to him to know, we ought to be the +sincere and zealous advocates of absent merit and worth, and we are +bound by every means in our power to contribute to the improvement of +others, and to the diffusion of salutary truths through the world. + +From the universality of these precepts many readers might be apt to +infer, that I am in my own person the bold and unsparing preacher of +truth, resolutely giving to every man his due, and, agreeably to +the apostle's direction, "instant in season, and out of season." +The individual who answers to this description will often be deemed +troublesome, often annoying; he will produce a considerable sensation +in the circle of those who know him; and it will depend upon various +collateral circumstances, whether he shall ultimately be judged a rash +and intemperate disturber of the contemplations of his neighbours, or +a disinterested and heroic suggester of new veins of thinking, by which +his contemporaries and their posterity shall be essentially the gainers. + +I have no desire to pass myself upon those who may have any curiosity +respecting me for better than I am; and I will therefore here put down +a few particulars, which may tend to enable them to form an equitable +judgment. + +One of the earliest passions of my mind was the love of truth and +sound opinion. "Why should I," such was the language of my solitary +meditations, "because I was born in a certain degree of latitude, in a +certain century, in a country where certain institutions prevail, and of +parents professing a certain faith, take it for granted that all this is +right?--This is matter of accident. 'Time and chance happeneth to all:' +and I, the thinking principle within me, might, if such had been the +order of events, have been born under circumstances the very reverse +of those under which I was born. I will not, if I can help it, be +the creature of accident; I will not, like a shuttle-cock, be at the +disposal of every impulse that is given me." I felt a certain disdain +for the being thus directed; I could not endure the idea of being made +a fool of, and of taking every ignis fatuus for a guide, and every stray +notion, the meteor of the day, for everlasting truth. I am the person, +spoken of in a preceding Essay(38), who early said to Truth, "Go on: +whithersoever thou leadest, I am prepared to follow." + + + (38) See above, Essay XIII. + + +During my college-life therefore, I read all sorts of books, on every +side of any important question, that were thrown in my way, or that I +could hear of. But the very passion that determined me to this mode of +proceeding, made me wary and circumspect in coming to a conclusion. I +knew that it would, if any thing, be a more censurable and contemptible +act, to yield to every seducing novelty, than to adhere obstinately to +a prejudice because it had been instilled into me in youth. I was +therefore slow of conviction, and by no means "given to change." I never +willingly parted with a suggestion that was unexpectedly furnished to +me; but I examined it again and again, before I consented that it should +enter into the set of my principles. + +In proportion however as I became acquainted with truth, or what +appeared to me to be truth, I was like what I have read of Melancthon, +who, when he was first converted to the tenets of Luther, became eager +to go into all companies, that he might make them partakers of the same +inestimable treasures, and set before them evidence that was to him +irresistible. It is needless to say, that he often encountered the most +mortifying disappointment. + +Young and eager as I was in my mission, I received in this way many a +bitter lesson. But the peculiarity of my temper rendered this doubly +impressive to me. I could not pass over a hint, let it come from +what quarter it would, without taking it into some consideration, and +endeavouring to ascertain the precise weight that was to be attributed +to it. It would however often happen, particularly in the question of +the claims of a given individual to honour and respect, that I could see +nothing but the most glaring injustice in the opposition I experienced. +In canvassing the character of an individual, it is not for the most +part general, abstract or moral, principles that are called into +question: I am left in possession of the premises which taught me to +admire the man whose character is contested; and conformably to those +premises I see that his claim to the honour I have paid him is fully +made out. + +In my communications with others, in the endeavour to impart what I +deemed to be truth, I began with boldness: but I often found that the +evidence that was to me irresistible, was made small account of by +others; and it not seldom happened, as candour was my principle, and a +determination to receive what could be strewn to be truth, let it come +from what quarter it would, that suggestions were presented to me, +materially calculated to stagger the confidence with which I had set +out. If I had been divinely inspired, if I had been secured by an +omniscient spirit against the danger of error, my case would have been +different. But I was not inspired. I often encountered an opposition +I had not anticipated, and was often presented with objections, or had +pointed out to me flaws and deficiencies in my reasonings, which, +till they were so pointed out, I had not apprehended. I had not lungs +enabling me to drown all contradiction; and, which was still more +material, I had not a frame of mind, which should determine me to regard +whatever could be urged against me as of no value. I therefore became +cautious. As a human creature, I did not relish the being held up to +others' or to myself, as rash, inconsiderate and headlong, unaware +of difficulties the most obvious, embracing propositions the most +untenable, and "against hope believing in hope." And, as an apostle of +truth, I distinctly perceived that a reputation for perspicacity and +sound judgment was essential to my mission. I therefore often became +less a speaker, than a listener, and by no means made it a law with +myself to defend principles and characters I honoured, on every occasion +on which I might hear them attacked. + +A new epoch occurred in my character, when I published, and at the time +I was writing, my Enquiry concerning Political Justice. My mind was +wrought up to a certain elevation of tone; the speculations in which I +was engaged, tending to embrace all that was most important to man in +society, and the frame to which I had assiduously bent myself, of +giving quarter to nothing because it was old, and shrinking from +nothing because it was startling and astounding, gave a new bias to my +character. The habit which I thus formed put me more on the alert even +in the scenes of ordinary life, and gave me a boldness and an eloquence +more than was natural to me. I then reverted to the principle which I +stated in the beginning, of being ready to tell my neighbour whatever +it might be of advantage to him to know, to shew myself the sincere and +zealous advocate of absent merit and worth, and to contribute by every +means in my power to the improvement of others and to the diffusion of +salutary truth through the world. I desired that every hour that I lived +should be turned to the best account, and was bent each day to examine +whether I had conformed myself to this rule. I held on this course with +tolerable constancy for five or six years: and, even when that constancy +abated, it failed not to leave a beneficial effect on my subsequent +conduct. + +But, in pursuing this scheme of practice, I was acting a part somewhat +foreign to my constitution. I was by nature more of a speculative than +an active character, more inclined to reason within myself upon what +I heard and saw, than to declaim concerning it. I loved to sit by +unobserved, and to meditate upon the panorama before me. At first I +associated chiefly with those who were more or less admirers of my work; +and, as I had risen (to speak in the slang phrase) like "a star" upon +my contemporaries without being expected, I was treated generally with +a certain degree of deference, or, where not with deference and +submission, yet as a person whose opinions and view of things were to be +taken into the account. The individuals who most strenuously opposed me, +acted with a consciousness that, if they affected to despise me, they +must not expect that all the bystanders would participate in that +feeling. + +But this was to a considerable degree the effect of novelty. My lungs, +as I have already said, were not of iron; my manner was not overbearing +and despotic; there was nothing in it to deter him who differed from me +from entering the field in turn, and telling the tale of his views and +judgments in contradiction to mine. I descended into the arena, and +stood on a level with the rest. Beyond this, it occasionally happened +that, if I had not the stentorian lungs, and the petty artifices of +rhetoric and conciliation, that should carry a cause independently of +its merits, my antagonists were not deficient in these respects. I +had nothing in my favour to balance this, but a sort of constitutional +equanimity and imperturbableness of temper, which, if I was at any +time silenced, made me not look like a captive to be dragged at the +chariot-wheels of my adversary. + +All this however had a tendency to subtract from my vocation as a +missionary. I was no longer a knight-errant, prepared on all occasions +by dint of arms to vindicate the cause of every principle that was +unjustly handled, and every character that was wrongfully assailed. +Meanwhile I returned to the field, occasionally and uncertainly. It +required some provocation and incitement to call me out: but there was +the lion, or whatever combative animal may more justly prefigure me, +sleeping, and that might be awakened. + +There is another feature necessary to be mentioned, in order to make +this a faithful representation. There are persons, it should seem, of +whom it may be predicated, that they are semper parati. This has by no +means been my case. My genius often deserted me. I was far from having +the thought, the argument, or the illustration at all times ready, when +it was required. I resembled to a certain degree the persons we read +of, who are said to be struck as if with a divine judgment. I was for +a moment changed into one of the mere herd, de grege porcus. My powers +therefore were precarious, and I could not always be the intrepid and +qualified advocate of truth, if I vehemently desired it. I have often, a +few minutes afterwards, or on my return to my chambers, recollected +the train of thinking, which world have strewn me off to advantage, +and memorably done me honour, if I could have had it at my command the +moment it was wanted. + +And so much for confession. I am by no means vindicating myself. + +I honour much more the man who is at all times ready to tell his +neighbour whatever it may be of advantage to him to know, to shew +himself the sincere and untemporising advocate of absent merit and +worth, and to contribute by every means in his power to the improvement +of others, and to the diffusion of salutary truths through the world. + +This is what every man ought to be, and what the best devised scheme of +republican institutions would have a tendency to make us all. + +But, though the man here described is to a certain degree a deserter +of his true place in society, and cannot be admitted to have played his +part in all things well, we are by no means to pronounce upon him a +more unfavourable judgment than he merits. Diffidence, though, where +it disqualifies us in any way from doing justice to truth, either as it +respects general principle or individual character, a defect, yet is on +no account to be confounded in demerit with that suppression of truth, +or misrepresentation, which grows out of actual craft and design. + +The diffident man, in some cases seldomer, and in some oftener and in +a more glaring manner, deserts the cause of truth, and by that means +is the cause of misrepresentation, and indirectly the propagator of +falshood. But he is constant and sincere as far as he goes; he never +lends his voice to falshood, or intentionally to sophistry; he never for +an instant goes over to the enemy's standard, or disgraces his honest +front by strewing it in the ranks of tyranny or imposture. He may +undoubtedly be accused, to a certain degree, of dissimulation, or +throwing into shade the thing that is, but never of simulation, or the +pretending the thing to be that is not. He is plain and uniform in +every thing that he professes, or to which he gives utterance; but, from +timidity or irresolution, he keeps back in part the offering which he +owes at the shrine where it is most honourable and glorious for man to +worship. + +And this brings me back again to the subject of the immediately +preceding Essay, the propriety of voting by ballot. + +The very essence of this scheme is silence. And this silence is not +merely like that which is prompted by a diffident temper, which by fits +is practiced by the modest and irresolute man, and by fits disappears +before the sun of truth and through the energies of a temporary +fortitude. It is uniform. It is not brought into act only, when the +individual unhappily does not find in himself the firmness to play +the adventurer. It becomes matter of system, and is felt as being +recommended to us for a duty. + +Nor does the evil stop there. In the course of my ordinary +communications with my fellow-men, I speak when I please, and I am +silent when I please, and there is nothing specially to be remarked +either way. If I speak, I am perhaps listened to; and, if I am silent, +it is likely enough concluded that it is because I have nothing of +importance to say. But in the question of ballot the case is far +otherwise. There it is known that the voter has his secret. When I am +silent upon a matter occurring in the usual intercourses of life where I +might speak, nay, where we will suppose I ought to speak, I am at +least guilty of dissimulation only. But the voter by ballot is strongly +impelled to the practice of the more enormous sin of simulation. It +is known, as I have said, that he has his secret. And he will often be +driven to have recourse to various stratagems, that he may elude +the enquirer, or that he may set at fault the sagacity of the silent +observer. He has something that he might tell if he would, and he +distorts himself in a thousand ways, that he may not betray the hoard +which he is known to have in his custody. The institution of ballot +is the fruitful parent of ambiguities, equivocations and lies without +number. + + + + +ESSAY XIX. OF SELF-COMPLACENCY. + +The subject of this Essay is intimately connected with those of Essays +XI and XII, perhaps the most important of the series. + +It has been established in the latter, that human creatures are +constantly accompanied in their voluntary actions with the delusive +sense of liberty, and that our character, our energies, and our +conscience of moral right and wrong, are mainly dependent upon this +feature in our constitution. + +The subject of my present disquisition relates to the feeling of +self-approbation or self-complacency, which will be found inseparable +from the most honourable efforts and exertions in which mortal men can +be engaged. + +One of the most striking of the precepts contained in what are called +the Golden Verses of Pythagoras, is couched in the words, "Reverence +thyself." + +The duties which are incumbent on man are of two sorts, negative and +positive. We are bound to set right our mistakes, and to correct +the evil habits to which we are prone; and we are bound also to be +generously ambitious, to aspire after excellence, and to undertake such +things as may reflect honour on ourselves, and be useful to others. + +To the practice of the former of these classes of duties we may be +instigated by prohibitions, menaces and fear, the fear of mischiefs +that may fall upon us conformably to the known series of antecedents +and consequents in the course of nature, or of mischiefs that may be +inflicted on us by the laws of the country in which we live, or +as results of the ill will and disapprobation felt towards us +by individuals. There is nothing that is necessarily generous or +invigorating in the practice of our negative duties. They amount merely +to a scheme for keeping us within bounds, and restraining us from those +sallies and escapes, which human nature, undisciplined and left to +itself, might betray us into. But positive enterprise, and great actual +improvement cannot be expected by us in this way. All this is what the +apostle refers to, when he speaks of "the law as a schoolmaster to bring +us to liberty," after which he advises us "not to be again entangled +with the yoke of bondage." + +On the other hand, if we would enter ourselves in the race of positive +improvement, if we would become familiar with generous sentiments, and +the train of conduct which such sentiments inspire, we must provide +ourselves with the soil in which such things grow, and engage in the +species of husbandry by which they are matured; in other words, we must +be no strangers to self-esteem and self-complacency. + +The truth of this statement may perhaps be most strikingly illustrated, +if we take for our example the progress of schoolboys under a preceptor. +A considerable proportion of these are apt, diligent, and desirous +to perform the tasks in which they are engaged, so as to satisfy the +demands of their masters and parents, and to advance honourably in the +path that is recommended to them. And a considerable proportion put +themselves on the defensive, and propose to their own minds to perform +exactly as much as shall exempt them from censure and punishment, and no +more. + +Now I say of the former, that they cannot accomplish the purpose they +have conceived, unless so far as they are aided by a sentiment of +self-reverence. + +The difference of the two parties is, that the latter proceed, so far +as their studies are concerned, as feeling themselves under the law of +necessity, and as if they were machines merely, and the former as if +they were under what the apostle calls "the law of liberty." + +We cannot perform our tasks to the best of our power, unless we think +well of our own capacity. + +But this is the smallest part of what is necessary. We must also be in +good humour with ourselves. We must say, I can do that which I shall +have just occasion to look back upon with satisfaction. It is the +anticipation of this result, that stimulates our efforts, and carries +us forward. Perseverance is an active principle, and cannot continue +to operate but under the influence of desire. It is incompatible with +languor and neutrality. It implies the love of glory, perhaps of that +glory which shall be attributed to us by others, or perhaps only of that +glory which shall be reaped by us in the silent chambers of the mind. +The diligent scholar is he that loves himself, and desires to have +reason to applaud and love himself. He sits down to his task with +resolution, he approves of what he does in each step of the process, and +in each enquires, Is this the thing I purposed to effect? + +And, as it is with the unfledged schoolboy, after the same manner it is +with the man mature. He must have to a certain extent a good opinion +of himself, he must feel a kind of internal harmony, giving to the +circulations of his frame animation and cheerfulness, or he can never +undertake and execute considerable things. + +The execution of any thing considerable implies in the first place +previous persevering meditation. He that undertakes any great +achievement will, according to the vulgar phrase, "think twice," before +he buckles up his resolution, and plunges into the ocean, which he has +already surveyed with anxious glance while he remained on shore. Let our +illustration be the case of Columbus, who, from the figure of the earth, +inferred that there must be a way of arriving at the Indies by a voyage +directly west, in distinction from the very complicated way hitherto +practiced, by sailing up the Mediterranean, crossing the isthmus of +Suez, and so falling down the Red Sea into the Indian Ocean. He weighed +all the circumstances attendant on such an undertaking in his mind. +He enquired into his own powers and resources, imaged to himself +the various obstacles that might thwart his undertaking, and finally +resolved to engage in it. If Columbus had not entertained a very good +opinion of himself, it is impossible that he should have announced such +a project, or should have achieved it. + +Again. Let our illustration be, of Homer undertaking to compose the +Iliad. If he had not believed himself to be a man of very superior +powers to the majority of the persons around him, he would most +assuredly never have attempted it. What an enterprise! To describe in +twenty-four books, and sixteen thousand verses, the perpetual warfare +and contention of two great nations, all Greece being armed for the +attack, and all the western division of Asia Minor for the defence: the +war carried on by two vast confederacies, under numerous chiefs, all +sovereign and essentially independent of each other. To conceive the +various characters of the different leaders, and their mutual rivalship. +To engage all heaven, such as it was then understood, as well as what +was most respectable on earth, in the struggle. To form the idea, +through twenty-four books, of varying the incidents perpetually, and +keeping alive the attention of the reader or hearer without satiety or +weariness. For this purpose, and to answer to his conception of a great +poem, Homer appears to have thought it necessary that the action should +be one; and he therefore took the incidental quarrel of Achilles and +the commander in chief, the resentment of Achilles, and his consequent +defection from the cause, till, by the death of Patroclus, and then +of Hector, all traces of the misunderstanding first, and then of its +consequences, should be fully obliterated. + +There is further an essential difference between the undertaking of +Columbus and that of Homer. Once fairly engaged, there was for Columbus +no drawing back. Being already at sea on the great Atlantic Ocean, he +could not retrace his steps. Even when he had presented his project to +the sovereigns of Spain, and they had accepted it, and still more when +the ships were engaged, and the crews mustered, he must go forward, or +submit to indelible disgrace. + +It is not so in writing a poem. The author of the latter may stop +whenever he pleases. Of consequence, during every day of its execution, +he requires a fresh stimulus. He must look back on the past, and forward +on what is to come, and feel that he has considerable reason to +be satisfied. The great naval discoverer may have his intervals of +misgiving and discouragement, and may, as Pope expresses it, "wish +that any one would hang him." He goes forward; for he has no longer the +liberty to choose. But the author of a mighty poem is not in the same +manner entangled, and therefore to a great degree returns to his work +each day, "screwing his courage to the sticking-place." He must feel the +same fortitude and elasticity, and be as entirely the same man of heroic +energy, as when he first arrived at the resolution to engage. How much +then of self-complacency and self-confidence do his undertaking and +performance imply! + +I have taken two of the most memorable examples in the catalogue of +human achievements: the discovery of a New World, and the production of +the Iliad. But all those voluntary actions, or rather series and chains +of actions, which comprise energy in the first determination, and honour +in the execution, each in its degree rests upon self-complacency as the +pillar upon which its weight is sustained, and without which it must +sink into nothing. + +Self-complacency then being the indispensible condition of all that is +honourable in human achievements, hence we may derive a multitude +of duties, and those of the most delicate nature, incumbent on the +preceptor, as well as a peculiar discipline to be observed by the +candidate, both while he is "under a schoolmaster," and afterwards when +he is emancipated, and his plan of conduct is to be regulated by his own +discretion. + +The first duty of the preceptor is encouragement. + +Not that his face is to be for ever dressed in smiles, and that his +tone is to be at all times that of invitation and courtship. The great +theatre of the world is of a mingled constitution, made up of advantages +and sufferings; and it is perhaps best that so should be the different +scenes of the drama as they pass. The young adventurer is not to expect +to have every difficulty smoothed for him by the hand of another. This +were to teach him a lesson of effeminacy and cowardice. On the contrary +it is necessary that he should learn that human life is a state of +hardship, that the adversary we have to encounter does not always +present himself with his fangs sheathed in the woolly softness which +occasionally renders them harmless, and that nothing great or eminently +honourable was ever achieved but through the dint of resolution, energy +and struggle. It is good that the winds of heaven should blow upon him, +that he should encounter the tempest of the elements, and occasionally +sustain the inclemency of the summer's heat and winter's cold, both +literally and metaphorically. + +But the preceptor, however he conducts himself in other respects, ought +never to allow his pupil to despise himself, or to hold himself as of no +account. Self-contempt can never be a discipline favourable to energy or +to virtue. The pupil ought at all times to judge himself in some +degree worthy, worthy and competent now to attempt, and hereafter to +accomplish, things deserving of commendation. The preceptor must never +degrade his pupil in his own eyes, but on the contrary must teach him +that nothing but resolution and perseverance are necessary, to enable +him to effect all that the judicious director can expect from him. He +should be encouraged through every step of his progress, and specially +encouraged when he has gained a certain point, and arrived at an +important resting-place. It is thus we are taught the whole circle of +what are called accomplishments, dancing, music, fencing, and the rest; +and it is surely a strange anomaly, if those things which are +most essential in raising the mind to its true standard, cannot be +communicated with equal suavity and kindness, be surrounded with +allurements, and regarded as sources of pleasure and genuine hilarity. + +In the mean time it is to be admitted that every human creature, +especially in the season of youth, and not being the victim of some +depressing disease either of body or mind, has in him a good obstinate +sort of self-complacency, which cannot without much difficulty be +eradicated. "Though he falleth seven times, yet will he rise again." +And, when we have encountered various mortifications, and have been many +times rebuked and inveighed against, we nevertheless recover our own +good opinion, and are ready to enter into a fresh contention for the +prize, if not in one kind, then in another. + +It is in allusion to this feature in the human character, that we have +an expressive phrase in the English language,--"to break the spirit." +The preceptor may occasionally perhaps prescribe to the pupil a severe +task; and the young adventurer may say, Can I be expected to accomplish +this? But all must be done in kindness. The generous attempter must be +reminded of the powers he has within him, perhaps yet unexercised; with +cheering sounds his progress must be encouraged; and, above all, +the director of the course must take care not to tax him beyond his +strength. And, be it observed, that the strength of a human creature is +to be ascertained by two things; first, the abstract capacity, that +the thing required is not beyond the power of a being so constituted +to perform; and, secondly, we must take into the account his past +achievements, the things he has already accomplished, and not expect +that he is at once to overleap a thousand obstacles. + +For there is such a thing as a broken spirit. I remember a boy who was +my schoolfellow, that, having been treated with uncalled for severity, +never appeared afterwards in the scene of instruction, but with a +neglected appearance, and the articles of his dress scarcely half put +on. I was very young at the time, and viewed only the outside of +things. I cannot tell whether he had any true ambition previously to his +disgrace, but I am sure he never had afterwards. + +How melancholy an object is the man, who, "for the privilege to breathe, +bears up and down the city + + A discontented and repining spirit + Burthensome to itself," + +incapable of enterprise, listless, with no courage to undertake, and +no anticipation of the practicability of success and honour! And this +spectacle is still more affecting, when the subject shall be a human +creature in the dawn of youth, when nature opens to him a vista of +beauty and fruition on every side, and all is encouraging, redolent of +energy and enterprise! + +To break the spirit of a man, bears a considerable resemblance to the +breaking the main spring, or principal movement, of a complicated and +ingeniously constructed machine. We cannot tell when it is to happen; +and it comes at last perhaps at the time that it is least expected. A +judicious superintendent therefore will be far from trying consequences +in his office, and will, like a man walking on a cliff whose extremes +are ever and anon crumbling away and falling into the ocean, keep much +within the edge, and at a safe distance from the line of danger. + +But this consideration has led me much beyond the true subject of this +Essay. The instructor of youth, as I have already said, is called +upon to use all his skill, to animate the courage, and maintain the +cheerfulness and self-complacency of his pupil. And, as such is the +discipline to be observed to the candidate, while he is "under a +schoolmaster," so, when he is emancipated, and his plan of conduct is to +be regulated by his own discretion, it is necessary that he should +carry forward the same scheme, and cultivate that tone of feeling, which +should best reconcile him to himself, and, by teaching him to esteem +himself and bear in mind his own value, enable him to achieve things +honourable to his character, and memorably useful to others. Melancholy, +and a disposition anticipating evil are carefully to be guarded against, +by him who is desirous to perform his part well on the theatre of +society. He should habitually meditate all cheerful things, and sing the +song of battle which has a thousand times spurred on his predecessors +to victory. He should contemplate the crown that awaits him, and say to +himself, I also will do my part, and endeavour to enrol myself in the +select number of those champions, of whom it has been predicated that +they were men, of whom, compared with the herd of ordinary mortals, "the +world," the species among whom they were rated, "was not worthy." + +Another consideration is to be recollected here. Without +self-complacency in the agent no generous enterprise is to be expected, +and no train of voluntary actions, such as may purchase honour to the +person engaged in them. + +But, beside this, there is no true and substantial happiness but for +the self-complacent. "The good man," as Solomon says, "is satisfied from +himself." The reflex act is inseparable from the constitution of the +human mind. How can any one have genuine happiness, unless in proportion +as he looks round, and, "behold! every thing is very good?" This is the +sunshine of the soul, the true joy, that gives cheerfulness to all our +circulations, and makes us feel ourselves entire and complete. What +indeed is life, unless so far as it is enjoyed? It does not merit the +name. If I go into a school, and look round on a number of young faces, +the scene is destitute of its true charm, unless so far as I see inward +peace and contentment on all sides. And, if we require this eminently in +the young, neither can it be less essential, when in growing manhood we +have the real cares of the world to contend with, or when in declining +age we need every auxiliary to enable us to sustain our infirmities. + +But, before I conclude my remarks on this subject, it is necessary that +I should carefully distinguish between the thesis, that self-complacency +is the indispensible condition of all that is honourable in human +achievements, and the proposition contended against in Essay XI, that +"self-love is the source of all our actions." Self-complacency is indeed +the feeling without which we cannot proceed in an honourable course; but +is far from being the motive that impels us to act. The motive is in the +real nature and absolute properties of the good thing that is proposed +to our choice: we seek the happiness of another, because his happiness +is the object of our desire. Self-complacency may be likened to the +bottle-holder in one of those contentions for bodily prowess, so +characteristic of our old English manners. The bottle-holder is +necessary to supply the combatant with refreshment, and to encourage him +to persist; but it would be most unnatural to regard him as the cause +of the contest. No: the parties have found reason for competition, they +apprehend a misunderstanding or a rivalry impossible to be settled +but by open contention, and the putting forth of mental and corporeal +energy; and the bottle-holder is an auxiliary called in afterwards, his +interference implying that the parties have already a motive to act, and +have thrown down the gauntlet in token of the earnest good-will which +animates them to engage. + + + + +ESSAY XX. OF PHRENOLOGY. + +The following remarks can pretend to be nothing more than a few loose +and undigested thoughts upon a subject, which has recently occupied the +attention of many men, and obtained an extraordinary vogue in the world. +It were to be wished, that the task had fallen into the hands of a +writer whose studies were more familiar with all the sciences which bear +more or less on the topic I propose to consider: but, if abler and more +competent men pass it by, I feel disposed to plant myself in the breach, +and to offer suggestions which may have the fortune to lead +others, better fitted for the office than myself, to engage in the +investigation. One advantage I may claim, growing out of my partial +deficiency. It is known not to be uncommon for a man to stand too near +to the subject of his survey, to allow him to obtain a large view of it +in all its bearings. I am no anatomist: I simply take my stand upon the +broad ground of the general philosophy of man. + +It is a very usual thing for fanciful theories to have their turn amidst +the eccentricities of the human mind, and then to be heard of no more. +But it is perhaps no ill occupation, now and then, for an impartial +observer, to analyse these theories, and attempt to blow away the dust +which will occasionally settle on the surface of science. If phrenology, +as taught by Gall and Spurzheim, be a truth, I shall probably render a +service to that truth, by endeavouring to shew where the edifice stands +in need of more solid supports than have yet been assigned to it. If it +be a falshood, the sooner it is swept away to the gulph of oblivion the +better. Let the inquisitive and the studious fix their minds on more +substantial topics, instead of being led away by gaudy and deceitful +appearances. The human head, that crowning capital of the column of man, +is too interesting a subject, to be the proper theme of every dabbler. +And it is obvious, that the professors of this so called discovery, if +they be rash and groundless in their assertions, will be in danger of +producing momentous errors, of exciting false hopes never destined to +be realised, and of visiting with pernicious blasts the opening buds +of excellence, at the time when they are most exposed to the chance of +destruction. + +I shall set out with acknowledging, that there is, as I apprehend, +a science in relation to the human head, something like what Plato +predicates of the statue hid in a block of marble. It is really +contained in the block; but it is only the most consummate sculptor, +that can bring it to the eyes of men, and free it from all the +incumbrances, which, till he makes application of his art to it, +surround the statue, and load it with obscurities and disfigurement. The +man, who, without long study and premeditation, rushes in at once, and +expects to withdraw the curtain, will only find himself disgraced by the +attempt. + +There is a passage in an acute writer(39), whose talents singularly +fitted him, even when he appeared totally immerged in mummery and +trifles, to illustrate the most important truths, that is applicable to +the point I am considering. + + + (39) Sterne, Tristram Shandy, Vol. 1. + + +"Pray, what was that man's name,--for I write in such a hurry, I have no +time to recollect or look for it,--who first made the observation, 'That +there was great inconstancy in our air and climate?' Whoever he was, it +was a just and good observation in him. But the corollary drawn from it, +namely, 'That it is this which has furnished us with such a variety of +odd and whimsical characters;'--that was not his;--it was found out by +another man, at least a century and a half after him. Then again, that +this copious storehouse of original materials is the true and natural +cause that our comedies are so much better than those of France, or any +others that have or can be wrote upon the continent;--that discovery was +not fully made till about the middle of king William's reign, when the +great Dryden, in writing one of his long prefaces (if I mistake not), +most fortunately hit upon it. Then, fourthly and lastly, that +this strange irregularity in our climate, producing so strange an +irregularity in our characters, cloth thereby in some sort make us +amends, by giving us somewhat to make us merry with, when the weather +will not suffer us to go out of doors,--that observation is my own; and +was struck out by me this very rainy day, March 26, 1759, and betwixt +the hour of nine and ten in the morning. + +"Thus--thus, my fellow-labourers and associates in this great harvest of +our learning, now ripening before our eyes; thus it is, by slow steps +of casual increase, that our knowledge physical, metaphysical, +physiological, polemical, nautical, mathematical, aenigmatical, +technical, biographical, romantical, chemical, and obstetrical, with +fifty other branches of it, (most of them ending, as these do, in ical,) +has, for these two last centuries and more, gradually been creeping +upwards towards that acme of their perfections, from which, if we may +form a conjecture from the advantages of these last seven years, we +cannot possibly be far off." + +Nothing can be more true, than the proposition ludicrously illustrated +in this passage, that real science is in most instances of slow growth, +and that the discoveries which are brought to perfection at once, are +greatly exposed to the suspicion of quackery. Like the ephemeron fly, +they are born suddenly, and may be expected to die as soon. + +Lavater, the well known author of Essays on Physiognomy, appears to +have been born seventeen years before the birth of Gall. He attempted to +reduce into a system the indications of human character that are to be +found in the countenance. Physiognomy, as a subject of ingenious and +probable conjecture, was well known to the ancients. But the test, how +far any observations that have been made on the subject are worthy the +name of a science, will lie in its application by the professor to +a person respecting whom he has had no opportunity of previous +information. Nothing is more easy, when a great warrior, statesman, +poet, philosopher or philanthropist is explicitly placed before us, than +for the credulous inspector or fond visionary to examine the lines of +his countenance, and to point at the marks which should plainly shew us +that he ought to have been the very thing that he is. This is the very +trick of gipsies and fortune-tellers. But who ever pointed to an utter +stranger in the street, and said, I perceive by that man's countenance +that he is one of the great luminaries of the world? Newton, or Bacon, +or Shakespear would probably have passed along unheeded. Instances of a +similar nature occur every day. Hence it plainly appears that, whatever +may hereafter be known on the subject, we can scarcely to the present +time be said to have overstepped the threshold. And yet nothing can be +more certain than that there is a science of physiognomy, though to +make use of an illustration already cited, it has not to this day +been extricated out of the block of marble in which it is hid. Human +passions, feelings and modes of thinking leave their traces on the +countenance: but we have not, thus far, left the dame's school in this +affair, and are not qualified to enter ourselves in the free-school for +more liberal enquiries. + +The writings of Lavater on the subject of physiognomy are couched in +a sort of poetic prose, overflowing with incoherent and vague +exclamations, and bearing small resemblance to a treatise in which +the elements of science are to be developed. Their success however was +extraordinary; and it was probably that success, which prompted Gall +first to turn his attention from the indications of character that are +to be found in the face of man, to the study of the head generally, as +connected with the intellectual and moral qualities of the individual. + +It was about four years before the commencement of the present century, +that Gall appears to have begun to deliver lectures on the structure and +external appearances of the human head. He tells us, that his attention +was first called to the subject in the ninth year of his age (that +is, in the year 1767), and that he spent thirty years in the private +meditation of his system, before he began to promulgate it. Be that as +it will, its most striking characteristic is that of marking out the +scull into compartments, in the same manner as a country delineated on +a map is divided into districts, and assigning a different faculty or +organ to each. In the earliest of these diagrams that has fallen +under my observation, the human scull is divided into twenty-seven +compartments. + +I would say of craniology, as I have already said of physiognomy, that +there is such a science attainable probably by man, but that we have yet +made scarcely any progress in the acquiring it. As certain lines in +the countenance are indicative of the dispositions of the man, so it +is reasonable to believe that a certain structure of the head is in +correspondence with the faculties and propensities of the individual. + +Thus far we may probably advance without violating a due degree of +caution. But there is a wide distance between this general statement, +and the conduct of the man who at once splits the human head into +twenty-seven compartments. + +The exterior appearance of the scull is affirmed to correspond with the +structure of the brain beneath. And nothing can be more analogous to +what the deepest thinkers have already confessed of man, than to suppose +that there is one structure of the brain better adapted for intellectual +purposes than another. There is probably one structure better adapted +than another, for calculation, for poetry, for courage, for cowardice, +for presumption, for diffidence, for roughness, for tenderness, for +self-control and the want of it. Even as some have inherently a faculty +adapted for music or the contrary(40). + + + (40) See above, Essay II. + + +But it is not reasonable to believe that we think of calculation with +one portion of the brain, and of poetry with another. + +It is very little that we know of the nature of matter; and we are +equally ignorant as to the substance, whatever it is, in which the +thinking principle in man resides. But, without adventuring in any +way to dogmatise on the subject, we find so many analogies between the +thinking principle, and the structure of what we call the brain, that +we cannot but regard the latter as in some way the instrument of the +former. + +Now nothing can be more certain respecting the thinking principle, than +its individuality. It has been said, that the mind can entertain but one +thought at one time; and certain it is, from the nature of attention, +and from the association of ideas, that unity is one of the principal +characteristics of mind. It is this which constitutes personal identity; +an attribute that, however unsatisfactory may be the explanations which +have been given respecting it, we all of us feel, and that lies at the +foundation of all our voluntary actions, and all our morality. + +Analogous to this unity of thought and mind, is the arrangement of the +nerves and the brain in the human body. The nerves all lead up to the +brain; and there is a centrical point in the brain itself, in which the +reports of the senses terminate, and at which the action of the will may +be conceived to begin. This, in the language of our fathers, was called +the "seat of the soul." + +We may therefore, without departing from the limits of a due caution +and modesty, consider this as the throne before which the mind holds its +court. Hither the senses bring in their reports, and hence the sovereign +will issues his commands. The whole system appears to be conducted +through the instrumentality of the nerves, along whose subtle texture +the feelings and impressions are propagated. Between the reports of +the senses and the commands of the will, intervenes that which is +emphatically the office of the mind, comprising meditation, reflection, +inference and judgment. How these functions are performed we know not; +but it is reasonable to believe that the substance of the brain or of +some part of the brain is implicated in them. + +Still however we must not lose sight of what has been already said, +that in the action of the mind unity is an indispensible condition. Our +thoughts can only hold their council and form their decrees in a very +limited region. This is their retreat and strong hold; and the special +use and functions of the remoter parts of the brain we are unable to +determine; so utterly obscure and undefined is our present knowledge +of the great ligament which binds together the body and the thinking +principle. + +Enough however results from this imperfect view of the ligament, to +demonstrate the incongruity and untenableness of a doctrine which +should assign the indications of different functions, exercises and +propensities of the mind to the exterior surface of the scull or the +brain. This is quackery, and is to be classed with chiromancy, augury, +astrology, and the rest of those schemes for discovering the future +and unknown, which the restlessness and anxiety of the human mind have +invented, built upon arbitrary principles, blundered upon in the dark, +and having no resemblance to the march of genuine science. I find in +sir Thomas Browne the following axioms of chiromancy: "that spots in +the tops of the nails do signifie things past; in the middle, things +present; and at the bottom, events to come: that white specks presage +our felicity; blue ones our misfortunes: that those in the nails of the +thumb have significations of honour, in the forefinger, of riches, and +so respectively in the rest." + +Science, to be of a high and satisfactory character, ought to consist of +a deduction of causes and effects, shewing us not merely that a thing is +so, but why it is as it is, and cannot be otherwise. The rest is merely +empirical; and, though the narrowness of human wit may often drive us +to this; yet it is essentially of a lower order and description. As it +depends for its authority upon an example, or a number of examples, so +examples of a contrary nature may continually come in, to weaken its +force, or utterly to subvert it. And the affair is made still worse, +when we see, as in the case of craniology, that all the reasons that +can be deduced (as here from the nature of mind) would persuade us +to believe, that there can be no connection between the supposed +indications, and the things pretended to be indicated. + +Craniology, or phrenology, proceeds exactly in the same train, as +chiromancy, or any of those pretended sciences which are built merely +on assumption or conjecture. The first delineations presented to the +public, marked out, as I have said, the scull into compartments, in the +same manner as a country delineated on a map is divided into districts. +Geography is a real science, and accordingly, like other sciences, has +been slow and gradual in its progress. At an early stage travellers +knew little more than the shores and islands of the Mediterranean. +Afterwards, they passed the straits of Hercules, and entered into the +Atlantic. At length the habitable world was distributed into three +parts, Europe, Asia, and Africa. More recently, by many centuries, came +the discovery of America. It is but the other day comparatively, that +we found the extensive island of New Holland in the Southern Ocean. The +ancient geographers placed an elephant or some marine monster in the +vacant parts of their maps, to signify that of these parts they knew +nothing. Not so Dr. Gall. Every part of his globe of the human Scull, at +least with small exceptions, is fully tenanted; and he, with his single +arm, has conquered a world. + +The majority of the judgments that have been divulged by the professors +of this science, have had for their subjects the sculls of men, whose +habits and history have been already known. And yet with this advantage +the errors and contradictions into which their authors have fallen are +considerably numerous. Thus I find, in the account of the doctor's visit +to the House of Correction and the Hospital of Torgau in July 1805, the +following examples. + +"Every person was desirous to know what Dr. Gall would say about T--, +who was known in the house as a thief full of cunning, and who, +having several times made his escape, wore an additional iron. It was +surprising, that he saw in him far less of the organ of cunning, than in +many of the other prisoners. However it was proved, that examples, and +conversation with other thieves in the house, had suggested to him the +plan for his escape, and that the stupidity which he possesses was the +cause of his being retaken." + +"We were much surprised to be told, that M., in whom Dr. Gall had +not discovered the organ of representation, possessed extraordinary +abilities in imitating the voice of animals; but we were convinced after +enquiries, that his talent was not a natural one, but acquired by study. +He related to us that, when he was a Prussian soldier garrisoned at +Berlin, he used to deceive the waiting women in the Foundling Hospital +by imitating the voice of exposed infants, and sometimes counterfeited +the cry of a wild drake, when the officers were shooting ducks." + +"Of another Dr. Gall said, His head is a pattern of inconstancy and +confinement, and there appears not the least mark of the organ of +courage. This rogue had been able to gain a great authority among his +fellow-convicts. How is this to be reconciled with the want of constancy +which his organisation plainly indicates? Dr. Gall answered, He gained +his ascendancy not by courage, but by cunning." + +It is well known, that in Thurtel, who was executed for one of the most +cold-blooded and remorseless murders ever heard of, the phrenologists +found the organ of benevolence uncommonly large. + +In Spurzheim's delineation of the human head I find six divisions of +organs marked out in the little hemisphere over the eye, indicating six +different dispositions. Must there not be in this subtle distribution +much of what is arbitrary and sciolistic? + +It is to be regretted, that no person skilful in metaphysics, or the +history of the human mind, has taken a share in this investigation. Many +errors and much absurdity would have been removed from the statements +of these theorists, if a proper division had been made between those +attributes and propensities, which by possibility a human creature may +bring into the world with him, and those which, being the pure growth +of the arbitrary institutions of society, must be indebted to those +institutions for their origin. I have endeavoured in a former Essay(41) +to explain this distinction, and to shew how, though a human being +cannot be born with an express propensity towards any one of the +infinite pursuits and occupations which may be found in civilised +society, yet that he may be fitted by his external or internal structure +to excel in some one of those pursuits rather than another. But all this +is overlooked by the phrenologists. They remark the various habits and +dispositions, the virtues and the vices, that display themselves in +society as now constituted, and at once and without consideration trace +them to the structure that we bring into the world with us. + + + (41) See above, Essay II. + + +Certainly many of Gall's organs are a libel upon our common nature. And, +though a scrupulous and exact philosopher will perhaps confess that he +has little distinct knowledge as to the design with which "the earth and +all that is therein" were made, yet he finds in it so much of beauty +and beneficent tendency, as will make him extremely reluctant to believe +that some men are born with a decided propensity to rob, and others +to murder. Nor can any thing be more ludicrous than this author's +distinction of the different organs of memory--of things, of places, of +names, of language, and of numbers: organs, which must be conceived to +be given in the first instance long before names or language or +numbers had an existence. The followers of Gall have in a few instances +corrected this: but what their denominations have gained in avoiding +the grossest absurdities of their master, they have certainly lost in +explicitness and perspicuity. + +There is a distinction, not unworthy to be attended to, that is here +to be made between Lavater's system of physiognomy, and Gall's of +craniology, which is much in favour of the former. The lines and +characteristic expressions of the face which may so frequently be +observed, are for the most part the creatures of the mind. This is in +the first place a mode of observation more agreeable to the pride and +conscious elevation of man, and is in the next place more suitable +to morality, and the vindication of all that is most admirable in the +system of the universe. It is just, that what is most frequently passing +in the mind, and is entertained there with the greatest favour, should +leave its traces upon the countenance. It is thus that the high and +exalted philosopher, the poet, and the man of benevolence and humanity +are sometimes seen to be such by the bystander and the stranger. While +the malevolent, the trickish, and the grossly sensual, give notice +of what they are by the cast of their features, and put their +fellow-creatures upon their guard, that they may not be made the prey of +these vices. + +But the march of craniology or phrenology, by whatever name it is +called, is directly the reverse of this. It assigns to us organs, as far +as the thing is explained by the professors either to the public or to +their own minds, which are entailed upon us from our birth, and which +are altogether independent, or nearly so, of any discipline or volition +that can be exercised by or upon the individual who drags their +intolerable chain. Thus I am told of one individual that he wants the +organ of colour; and all the culture in the world can never supply that +defect, and enable him to see colour at all, or to see it as it is seen +by the rest of mankind. Another wants the organ of benevolence; and his +case is equally hopeless. I shrink from considering the condition of the +wretch, to whom nature has supplied the organs of theft and murder in +full and ample proportions. The case is like that of astrology + + (Their stars are more in fault than they), + +with this aggravation, that our stars, so far as the faculty of +prediction had been supposed to be attained, swayed in few things; but +craniology climbs at once to universal empire; and in her map, as I +have said, there are no vacant places, no unexplored regions and happy +wide-extended deserts. + +It is all a system of fatalism. Independently of ourselves, and +far beyond our control, we are reserved for good or for evil by the +predestinating spirit that reigns over all things. Unhappy is the +individual who enters himself in this school. He has no consolation, +except the gratified wish to know distressing truths, unless we add to +this the pride of science, that he has by his own skill and application +purchased for himself the discernment which places him in so painful a +preeminence. The great triumph of man is in the power of education, to +improve his intellect, to sharpen his perceptions, and to regulate +and modify his moral qualities. But craniology reduces this to almost +nothing, and exhibits us for the most part as the helpless victims of a +blind and remorseless destiny. + +In the mean time it is happy for us, that, as this system is perhaps the +most rigorous and degrading that was ever devised, so it is in +almost all instances founded upon arbitrary assumptions and confident +assertion, totally in opposition to the true spirit of patient and +laborious investigation and sound philosophy. + +It is in reality very little that we know of the genuine characters +of men. Every human creature is a mystery to his fellow. Every +human character is made up of incongruities. Of nearly all the great +personages in history it is difficult to say what was decidedly the +motive in which their actions and system of conduct originated. We study +what they did, and what they said; but in vain. We never arrive at a +full and demonstrative conclusion. In reality no man can be certainly +said to know himself. "The heart of man is deceitful above all things." + +But these dogmatists overlook all those difficulties, which would +persuade a wise man to suspend his judgment, and induce a jury +of philosophers to hesitate for ever as to the verdict they would +pronounce. They look only at the external character of the act by which +a man honours or disgraces himself. They decide presumptuously and in a +lump, This man is a murderer, a hero, a coward, the slave of avarice, or +the votary of philanthropy; and then, surveying the outside of his head, +undertake to find in him the configuration that should indicate these +dispositions, and must be found in all persons of a similar character, +or rather whose acts bear the same outward form, and seem analogous to +his. + +Till we have discovered the clue that should enable us to unravel the +labyrinth of the human mind, it is with small hopes of success that we +should expect to settle the external indications, and decide that this +sort of form and appearance, and that class of character, will always be +found together. + +But it is not to be wondered at, that these disorderly fragments of a +shapeless science should become the special favourites of the idle and +the arrogant. Every man (and every woman), however destitute of real +instruction, and unfitted for the investigation of the deep or the +sublime mysteries of our nature, can use his eyes and his hands. The +whole boundless congregation of mankind, with its everlasting varieties, +is thus at once subjected to the sentence of every pretender: + + And fools rush in, where angels fear to tread. + +Nothing is more delightful to the headlong and presumptuous, than thus +to sit in judgment on their betters, and pronounce ex cathedra on those, +"whose shoe-latchet they are not worthy to stoop down and unloose." I +remember, after lord George Gordon's riots, eleven persons accused were +set down in one indictment for their lives, and given in charge to one +jury. But this is a mere shadow, a nothing, compared with the wholesale +and indiscriminating judgment of the vulgar phrenologist. + + + + +ESSAY XXI. OF ASTRONOMY. + +SECTION I. + +It can scarcely be imputed to me as profane, if I venture to put down +a few sceptical doubts on the science of astronomy. All branches of +knowledge are to be considered as fair subjects of enquiry: and he that +has never doubted, may be said, in the highest and strictest sense of +the word, never to have believed. + +The first volume that furnished to me the groundwork of the following +doubts, was the book commonly known by the name of Guthrie's +Geographical Grammar, many parts and passages of which engaged my +attention in my own study, in the house of a rural schoolmaster, in the +year 1772. I cannot therefore proceed more fairly than by giving here +an extract of certain passages in that book, which have relation to +the present subject. I know not how far they have been altered in the +edition of Guthrie which now lies before me, from the language of +the book then in my possession; but I feel confident that in the main +particulars they continue the same(42). + + + (42) The article Astronomy, in this book, appears to have been written +by the well known James Ferguson. + + +"In passing rapidly over the heavens with his new telescope, the +universe increased under the eye of Herschel; 44,000 stars, seen in the +space of a few degrees, seemed to indicate that there were seventy-five +millions in the heavens. But what are all these, when compared with +those that fill the whole expanse, the boundless field of aether? + +"The immense distance of the fixed stars from our earth, and from each +other, is of all considerations the most proper for raising our ideas of +the works of God. Modern discoveries make it probable that each of these +stars is a sun, having planets and comets revolving round it, as our sun +has the earth and other planets revolving round him.--A ray of light, +though its motion is so quick as to be commonly thought instantaneous, +takes up more time in travelling from the stars to us, than we do in +making a West-India voyage. A sound, which, next to light, is considered +as the quickest body we are acquainted with, would not arrive to us from +thence in 50,000 years. And a cannon-ball, flying at the rate of 480 +miles an hour, would not reach us in 700,000 years. + +"From what we know of our own system, it may be reasonably concluded, +that all the rest are with equal wisdom contrived, situated, and +provided with accommodations for rational inhabitants. + +"What a sublime idea does this suggest to the human imagination, limited +as are its powers, of the works of the Creator! Thousands and thousands +of suns, multiplied without end, and ranged all around us, at immense +distances from each other, attended by ten thousand times ten thousand +worlds, all in rapid motion, yet calm, regular and harmonious, +invariably keeping the paths prescribed them: and these worlds peopled +with myriads of intelligent beings, formed for endless progression in +perfection and felicity!" + +The thought that would immediately occur to a dispassionate man in +listening to this statement, would be, What a vast deal am I here called +on to believe! + +Now the first rule of sound and sober judgment, in encountering any +story, is that, in proportion to the magnitude and seemingly incredible +nature of the propositions tendered to our belief, should be the +strength and impregnable nature of the evidence by which those +propositions are supported. + +It is not here, as in matters of religion, that we are called upon by +authority from on high to believe in mysteries, in things above our +reason, or, as it may be, contrary to our reason. No man pretends to +a revelation from heaven of the truths of astronomy. They have been +brought to light by the faculties of the human mind, exercised upon such +facts and circumstances as our industry has set before us. + +To persons not initiated in the rudiments of astronomical science, they +rest upon the great and high-sounding names of Galileo, Kepler, Halley +and Newton. But, though these men are eminently entitled to honour and +gratitude from their fellow-mortals, they do not stand altogether on +the same footing as Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, by whose pens has been +recorded "every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." + +The modest enquirer therefore, without pretending to put himself on an +equality with these illustrious men, may be forgiven, when he permits +himself to suggest a few doubts, and presumes to examine the grounds +upon which he is called upon to believe all that is contained in the +above passages. + +Now the foundations upon which astronomy, as here delivered, is built, +are, first, the evidence of our senses, secondly, the calculations of +the mathematician, and, in the third place, moral considerations. These +have been denominated respectively, practical astronomy, scientific, and +theoretical. + +As to the first of these, it is impossible for us on this occasion +not to recollect what has so often occurred as to have grown into an +every-day observation, of the fallibility of our senses. + +It may be doubted however whether this is a just statement. We are not +deceived by our senses, but deceived in the inference we make from our +sensations. Our sensations respecting what we call the external +world, are chiefly those of length, breadth and solidity, hardness and +softness, heat and cold, colour, smell, sound and taste. The inference +which the generality of mankind make in relation to these sensations +is, that there is something out of ourselves corresponding to the +impressions we receive; in other words, that the causes of our +sensations are like to the sensations themselves. But this is, strictly +speaking, an inference; and, if the cause of a sensation is not like the +sensation, it cannot precisely be affirmed that our senses deceive us. +We know what passes in the theatre of the mind; but we cannot be said +absolutely to know any thing, more. + +Modern philosophy has taught us, in certain cases, to controvert the +position, that the causes of our sensations are like to the sensations +themselves. Locke in particular has called the attention of the +reasoning part of mankind to the consideration, that heat and cold, +sweet and bitter, and odour offensive or otherwise, are perceptions, +which imply a percipient being, and cannot exist in inanimate +substances. We might with equal propriety ascribe pain to the whip that +beats us, or pleasure to the slight alternation of contact in the person +or thing that tickles us, as suppose that heat and cold, or taste, or +smell are any thing but sensations. + +The same philosophers who have called our attention to these remarks, +have proceeded to shew that the causes of our sensations of sound and +colour have no precise correspondence, do not tally with the sensations +we receive. Sound is the result of a percussion of the air. Colour +is produced by the reflection of the rays of light; so that the same +object, placed in a position, different as to the spectator, but in +itself remaining unaltered, will produce in him a sensation of different +colours, or shades of colour, now blue, now green, now brown, now black, +and so on. This is the doctrine of Newton, as well as of Locke. + +It follows that, if there were no percipient being to receive these +sensations, there would be no heat or cold, no taste, no smell, no +sound, and no colour. + +Aware of this difference between our sensations in certain cases and +the causes of these sensations, Locke has divided the qualities of +substances in the material universe into primary and secondary, the +sensations we receive of the primary representing the actual qualities +of material substances, but the sensations we receive of what he calls +the secondary having no proper resemblance to the causes that produce +them. + +Now, if we proceed in the spirit of severe analysis to examine the +primary qualities of matter, we shall not perhaps find so marked a +distinction between those and the secondary, as the statement of Locke +would have led us to imagine. + +The Optics of Newton were published fourteen years later than Locke's +Essay concerning Human Understanding. + +In endeavouring to account for the uninterrupted transmission of rays of +light through transparent substances, however hard they may be found to +be, Newton has these observations. + +"Bodies are much more rare and porous, than is commonly believed. +Water is nineteen times lighter, and by consequence nineteen times +rarer, than gold; and gold is so rare, as very readily, and without the +least opposition, to transmit the magnetic effluvia, and easily to admit +quicksilver into its pores, and to let water pass through it. From all +which we may conclude, that gold has more pores than solid parts, and by +consequence that water has above forty times more pores than parts. And +he that shall find out an hypothesis, by which water may be so rare, +and yet not capable of compression by force, may doubtless, by the same +hypothesis, make gold, and water, and all other bodies, as much rarer as +he pleases, so that light may find a ready passage through transparent +substances(43)." + + + (43) Newton, Optics, Book II, Part III, Prop. viii. + + +Again: "The colours of bodies arise from the magnitude of the particles +that reflect them. Now, if we conceive these particles of bodies to +be so disposed among themselves, that the intervals, or empty spaces +between them, may be equal in magnitude to them all; and that these +particles may be composed of other particles much smaller, which have +as much empty space between them as equals all the magnitudes of these +smaller particles; and that in like manner these smaller particles are +again composed of others much smaller, all which together are equal to +all the pores, or empty spaces, between them; and so on perpetually +till you come to solid particles, such as have no pores, or empty spaces +within them: and if in any gross body there be, for instance, three such +degrees of particles, the least of which are solid; this body will +have seven times more pores than solid parts. But if there be four such +degrees of particles, the least of which are solid, the body will have +fifteen times more pores than solid parts. If there be five degrees, the +body will have one and thirty times more pores than solid parts. If six +degrees, the body will have sixty and three times more pores than solid +parts. And so on perpetually(44)." + + + (44) Ibid. + + +In the Queries annexed to the Optics, Newton further suggests an +opinion, that the rays of light are repelled by bodies without immediate +contact. He observes that: + +"Where attraction ceases, there a repulsive virtue ought to succeed. +And that there is such a virtue, seems to follow from the reflexions and +inflexions of the rays of light. For the rays are repelled by bodies, +in both these cases, without the immediate contact of the reflecting or +inflecting body. It seems also to follow from the emission of light; the +ray, so soon as it is shaken off from a shining body by the vibrating +motion of the parts of the body, and gets beyond the reach of +attraction, being driven away with exceeding great velocity. For +that force, which is sufficient to turn it back in reflexion, may be +sufficient to emit it. It seems also to follow from the production of +air and vapour: the particles, when they are shaken off from bodies +by heat or fermentation, so soon as they are beyond the reach of the +attraction of the body, receding from it and also from one another, with +great strength; and keeping at a distance, so as sometimes to take up a +million of times more space than they did before, in the form of a dense +body." + +Newton was of opinion that matter was made up, in the last resort, of +exceedingly small solid particles, having no pores, or empty spaces +within them. Priestley, in his Disquisitions relating to Matter and +Spirit, carries the theory one step farther; and, as Newton surrounds +his exceedingly small particles with spheres of attraction and +repulsion, precluding in all cases their actual contact, Priestley is +disposed to regard the centre of these spheres as mathematical points +only. If there is no actual contact, then by the very terms no two +particles of matter were ever so near to each other, but that they +might be brought nearer, if a sufficient force could be applied for that +purpose. You had only another sphere of repulsion to conquer; and, as +there never is actual contact, the whole world is made up of one sphere +of repulsion after another, without the possibility of ever arriving at +an end. + +"The principles of the Newtonian philosophy," says our author, "were no +sooner known, than it was seen how few in comparison, of the phenomena +of nature, were owing to solid matter, and how much to powers, which +were only supposed to accompany and surround the solid parts of matter. +It has been asserted, and the assertion has never been disproved, that +for any thing we know to the contrary, all the solid matter in the solar +system might be contained within a nutshell(45)." + + + (45) Priestley, Disquisitions, Section II. I know not by whom this +illustration was first employed. Among other authors, I find, in +Fielding (Joseph Andrews, Book II, Chap. II), a sect of philosophers +spoken of, who "can reduce all the matter of the world into a nutshell." + + +It is then with senses, from the impressions upon which we are impelled +to draw such false conclusions, and that present us with images +altogether unlike any thing that exists out of ourselves, that we +come to observe the phenomena of what we call the universe. The first +observation that it is here incumbent on us to make, and which we ought +to keep ever at hand, to be applied as occasion may offer, is the +well known aphorism of Socrates, that "we know only this, that we know +nothing." We have no compass to guide us through the pathless waters of +science; we have no revelation, at least on the subject of astronomy, +and of the unnumbered inhabitable worlds that float in the ocean of +ether; and we are bound therefore to sail, as the mariners of ancient +times sailed, always within sight of land. One of the earliest maxims of +ordinary prudence, is that we ought ever to correct the reports of one +sense by the assistance of another sense. The things we here speak of +are not matters of faith; and in them therefore it is but reason, that +we should imitate the conduct of Didymus the apostle, who said, "Except +I put my fingers into the prints of the nails, and thrust my hand into +his side, I will not believe." My eyes report to me an object, as having +a certain magnitude, texture, and roughness or smoothness; but I require +that my hands should confirm to me the evidence of my eyes. I see +something that appears to be an island at an uncertain distance from +the shore; but, if I am actuated by a laudable curiosity, and wish to +possess a real knowledge, I take a boat, and proceed to ascertain by +nearer inspection, whether that which I imagined to be an island is an +island or no. + +There are indeed many objects with which we are conversant, that are +in so various ways similar to each other, that, after having carefully +examined a few, we are satisfied upon slighter investigation to admit +the dimensions and character of others. Thus, having measured with a +quadrant the height of a tower, and found on the narrowest search and +comparison that the report of my instrument was right, I yield credit to +this process in another instance, without being at the trouble to verify +its results in any more elaborate method. + +The reason why we admit the inference flowing from our examination +in the second instance, and so onward, with less scrupulosity and +scepticism than in the first, is that there is a strict resemblance and +analogy in the two cases. Experience is the basis of our conclusions and +our conduct. I strike against a given object, a nail for example, with +a certain degree of force, because I have remarked in myself and others +the effect of such a stroke. I take food and masticate it, because I +have found that this process contributes to the sound condition of my +body and mind. I scatter certain seeds in my field, and discharge the +other functions of an agriculturist, because I have observed that in due +time the result of this industry is a crop. All the propriety of these +proceedings depends upon the exact analogy between the old case and the +new one. The state of the affair is still the same, when my business +is merely that of an observer and a traveller. I know water from earth, +land from sea, and mountains from vallies, because I have had experience +of these objects, and confidently infer that, when certain appearances +present themselves to my organs of sight, I shall find the same results +to all my other senses, as I found when such appearances occurred to me +before. + +But the interval that divides the objects which occur upon and under +the earth, and are accessible in all ways to our examination, on the one +hand, and the lights which are suspended over our heads in the heavens +on the other, is of the broadest and most memorable nature. Human +beings, in the infancy of the world, were contented reverently to behold +these in their calmness and beauty, perhaps to worship them, and to +remark the effects that they produced, or seemed to produce, upon man +and the subjects of his industry. But they did not aspire to measure +their dimensions, to enquire into their internal frame, or to explain +the uses, far removed from our sphere of existence, which they might be +intended to serve. + +It is however one of the effects of the improvement of our intellect, to +enlarge our curiosity. The daringness of human enterprise is one of +the prime glories of our nature. It is our boast that we undertake +to "measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides." And, when success +crowns the boldness of our aspirations after what vulgar and timorous +prudence had pronounced impossible, it is then chiefly that we are seen +to participate of an essence divine. + +What has not man effected by the boldness of his conceptions and the +adventurousness of his spirit? The achievements of human genius have +appeared so incredible, till they were thoroughly examined, and slowly +established their right to general acceptance, that the great heroes of +intellect were universally regarded by their contemporaries as dealers +in magic, and implements of the devil. The inventor of the art of +printing, that glorious instrument for advancing the march of human +improvement, and the discoverer of the more questionable art of making +gunpowder, alike suffered under this imputation. We have rendered the +seas and the winds instruments of our pleasure, "exhausted the old +world, and then discovered a new one," have drawn down lightning from +heaven, and exhibited equal rights and independence to mankind. Still +however it is incumbent on us to be no less wary and suspicious than +we are bold, and not to imagine, because we have done much, that we are +therefore able to effect every thing. + +As was stated in the commencement of this Essay, we know our own +sensations, and we know little more. Matter, whether in its primary +or secondary qualities, is certainly not the sort of thing the vulgar +imagine it to be. The illustrious Berkeley has taught many to doubt of +its existence altogether; and later theorists have gone farther than +this, and endeavoured to shew, that each man, himself while he speaks on +the subject, and you and I while we hear, have no conclusive evidence to +convince us, that we may not, each of us, for aught we know, be the only +thing that exists, an entire universe to ourselves. + +We will not however follow these ingenious persons to the startling +extreme to which their speculations would lead us. But, without doing +so, it will not misbecome us to be cautious, and to reflect what we do, +before we take a leap into illimitable space. + + +SECTION II. + +"The sun," we are told, "is a solid body, ninety-five millions of miles +distant from the earth we inhabit, one million times larger in cubic +measurement, and to such a degree impregnated with heat, that a comet, +approaching to it within a certain distance, was by that approximation +raised to a heat two thousand times greater than that of red-hot iron." + +It will be acknowledged, that there is in this statement much to +believe; and we shall not be exposed to reasonable blame, if we refuse +to subscribe to it, till we have received irresistible evidence of its +truth. + +It has already been observed, that, for the greater part of what we +imagine we know on the surface or in the bowels of the earth, we have, +or may have if we please, the evidence of more than one of our senses, +combining to lead to the same conclusion. For the propositions of +astronomy we have no sensible evidence, but that of sight, and an +imperfect analogy, leading from those visible impressions which we can +verify, to a reliance upon those which we cannot. + +The first cardinal particular we meet with in the above statement +concerning the sun, is the term, distance. Now, all that, strictly +speaking, we can affirm respecting the sun and other heavenly bodies, +is that we have the same series of impressions respecting them, that we +have respecting terrestrial objects near or remote, and that there is an +imperfect analogy between the one case and the other. + +Before we affirm any thing, as of our own knowledge and competence, +respecting heavenly bodies which are said to be millions of millions +of miles removed from us, it would not perhaps be amiss that we should +possess ourselves of a certain degree of incontestible information, as +to the things which exist on the earth we inhabit. Among these, one of +the subjects attended with a great degree of doubt and obscurity, is the +height of the mountains with which the surface of the globe we inhabit +is diversified. It is affirmed in the received books of elementary +geography, that the Andes are the highest mountains in the world. Morse, +in his American Gazetteer, third edition, printed at Boston in 1810(46), +says, "The height of Chimborazzo, the most elevated point of the vast +chain of the Andes, is 20,280 feet above the level of the sea, which +is 7102 feet higher than any other mountain in the known world:" thus +making the elevation of the mountains of Thibet, or whatever other +rising ground the compiler had in his thought, precisely 13,178 feet +above the level of the sea, and no more. This decision however has +lately been contradicted. Mr. Hugh Murray, in an Account of Discoveries +and Travels in Asia, published in 1820, has collated the reports of +various recent travellers in central Asia; and he states the height +of Chumularee, which he speaks of as the most elevated point of the +mountains of Thibet, as nearly 30,000 feet above the level of the sea. + + + (46) Article, Andes. + + +The elevation of mountains, till lately, was in no way attempted to +be ascertained but by the use of the quadrant, and their height was +so generally exaggerated, that Riccioli, one of the most eminent +astronomers of the seventeenth century, gives it as his opinion that +mountains, like the Caucasus, may have a perpendicular elevation of +fifty Italian miles(47). Later observers have undertaken to correct the +inaccuracy of these results through the application of the barometer, +and thus, by informing themselves of the weight of the air at a certain +elevation, proceeding to infer the height of the situation. + + + (47) Rees, Encyclopedia; article, Mountains. + + +There are many circumstances, which are calculated to induce a +circumspect enquirer to regard the affirmative positions of astronomy, +as they are delivered by the most approved modern writers, with +considerable diffidence. + +They are founded, as has already been said, next to the evidence of our +senses, upon the deductions of mathematical knowledge. + +Mathematics are either pure or mixed. + +Pure mathematics are concerned only with abstract propositions, and have +nothing to do with the realities of nature. There is no such thing in +actual existence as a mathematical point, line or surface. There is no +such thing as a circle or square. But that is of no consequence. We can +define them in words, and reason about them. We can draw a diagram, and +suppose that line to be straight which is not really straight, and that +figure to be a circle which is not strictly a circle. It is conceived +therefore by the generality of observers, that mathematics is the +science of certainty. + +But this is not strictly the case. Mathematics are like those abstract +and imaginary existences about which they are conversant. They may +constitute in themselves, and in the apprehension of an infallible +being, a science of certainty. But they come to us mixed and +incorporated with our imperfections. Our faculties are limited; and we +may be easily deceived, as to what it is that we see with transparent +and unerring clearness, and what it is that comes to us through a +crooked medium, refracting and distorting the rays of primitive truth. +We often seem clear, when in reality the twilight of undistinguishing +night has crept fast and far upon us. In a train of deductions, as +in the steps of an arithmetical process, an error may have insinuated +itself imperceptibly at a very early stage, rendering all the subsequent +steps a wandering farther and farther from the unadulterated truth. +Human mathematics, so to speak, like the length of life, are subject to +the doctrine of chances. Mathematics may be the science of certainty to +celestial natures, but not to man. + +But, if in the case of pure mathematics, we are exposed to the chances +of error and delusion, it is much worse with mixed mathematics. +The moment we step out of the high region of abstraction, and apply +ourselves to what we call external nature, we have forfeited that sacred +character and immunity, which we seemed entitled to boast, so long as +we remained inclosed in the sanctuary of unmingled truth. As has already +been said, we know what passes in the theatre of the mind; but we cannot +be said absolutely to know any thing more. In our speculations upon +actual existences we are not only subject to the disadvantages which +arise from the limited nature of our faculties, and the errors which may +insensibly creep upon us in the process. We are further exposed to the +operation of the unevennesses and irregularities that perpetually +occur in external nature, the imperfection of our senses, and of the +instruments we construct to assist our observations, and the discrepancy +which we frequently detect between the actual nature of the things about +us and our impressions respecting them. + +This is obvious, whenever we undertake to apply the processes of +arithmetic to the realities of life. Arithmetic, unsubjected to the +impulses of passion and the accidents of created nature, holds on its +course; but, in the phenomena of the actual world, "time and chance +happeneth to them all." + +Thus it is, for example, in the arithmetical and geometrical ratios, set +up in political economy by the celebrated Mr. Malthus. His numbers will +go on smoothly enough, 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, as representing the principle +of population among mankind, and 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, the means of +subsistence; but restiff and uncomplying nature refuses to conform +herself to his dicta. + +Dr. Price has calculated the produce of one penny, put out at the +commencement of the Christian era to five per cent. compound interest, +and finds that in the year 1791 it would have increased to a greater sum +than would be contained in three hundred millions of earths, all solid +gold. But what has this to do with the world in which we live? Did +ever any one put out his penny to interest in this fashion for eighteen +hundred years? And, if he did, where was the gold to be found, to +satisfy his demand? + +Morse, in his American Gazetteer, proceeding on the principles of +Malthus, tells us that, if the city of New York goes on increasing for +a century in a certain ratio, it will by that time contain 5,257,493 +inhabitants. But does any one, for himself or his posterity, expect to +see this realised? + +Blackstone, in his Commentaries on the Laws of England, has observed +that, as every man has two ancestors in the first ascending degree, +and four in the second, so in the twentieth degree he has more than a +million, and in the fortieth the square of that number, or upwards of a +million millions. This statement therefore would have a greater tendency +to prove that mankind in remote ages were numerous, almost beyond the +power of figures to represent, than the opposite doctrine of Malthus, +that they have a perpetual tendency to such increase as would infallibly +bring down the most tremendous calamities on our posterity. + +Berkeley, whom I have already referred to on another subject, and who +is admitted to be one of our profoundest philosophers, has written +a treatise(48) to prove, that the mathematicians, who object to the +mysteries supposed to exist in revealed religion, "admit much greater +mysteries, and even falshoods in science, of which he alleges the +doctrine of fluxions as an eminent example(49)." He observes, that their +conclusions are established by virtue of a twofold error, and that these +errors, being in contrary directions, are supposed to compensate each +other, the expounders of the doctrine thus arriving at what they call +truth, without being able to shew how, or by what means they have +arrived at it. + + + (48) The Analyst. + + + (49) Life of Berkeley, prefixed to his Works. + + +It is a memorable and a curious speculation to reflect, upon how slight +grounds the doctrine of "thousands and thousands of suns, multiplied +without end, and ranged all around us, at immense distances from +each other, and attended by ten thousand times ten thousand worlds," +mentioned in the beginning of this Essay, is built. It may be all true. +But, true or false, it cannot be without its use to us, carefully +to survey the road upon which we are advancing, the pier which human +enterprise has dared to throw out into the vast ocean of Cimmerian +darkness. We have constructed a pyramid, which throws into unspeakable +contempt the vestiges of ancient Egyptian industry: but it stands upon +its apex; it trembles with every breeze; and momentarily threatens to +overwhelm in its ruins the fearless undertakers that have set it up. + +It gives us a mighty and sublime idea of the nature of man, to think +with what composure and confidence a succession of persons of the +greatest genius have launched themselves in illimitable space, with +what invincible industry they have proceeded, wasting the midnight oil, +racking their faculties, and almost wearing their organs to dust, in +measuring the distance of Sirius and the other fixed stars, the velocity +of light, and "the myriads of intelligent beings formed for endless +progression in perfection and felicity," that people the numberless +worlds of which they discourse. The illustrious names of Copernicus, +Galileo, Gassendi, Kepler, Halley and Newton impress us with awe; and, +if the astronomy they have opened before us is a romance, it is at least +a romance more seriously and perseveringly handled than any other in the +annals of literature. + +A vulgar and a plain man would unavoidably ask the astronomers, How came +you so familiarly acquainted with the magnitude and qualities of the +heavenly bodies, a great portion of which, by your own account, are +millions of millions of miles removed from us? But, I believe, it is not +the fashion of the present day to start so rude a question. I have just +turned over an article on Astronomy in the Encyclopaedia Londinensis, +consisting of one hundred and thirty-three very closely printed quarto +pages, and in no corner of this article is any evidence so much as +hinted at. Is it not enough? Newton and his compeers have said it. + +The whole doctrine of astronomy rests upon trigonometry, a branch of the +science of mathematics which teaches us, having two sides and one angle, +or two angles and one side, of a triangle given us, to construct the +whole. To apply this principle therefore to the heavenly bodies, it is +necessary for us to take two stations, the more remote from each other +the better, from which our observations should be made. For the sake +of illustration we will suppose them to be taken at the extremes of the +earth's diameter, in other words, nearly eight thousand miles apart from +each other, the thing itself having never been realised to that +extent. From each of these stations we will imagine a line to be drawn, +terminating in the sun. Now it seems easy, by means of a quadrant, to +find the arch of a circle (in other words, the angle) included between +these lines terminating in the sun, and the base formed by a right line +drawn from one of these stations to the other, which in this case is +the length of the earth's diameter. I have therefore now the three +particulars required to enable me to construct my triangle. And, +according to the most approved astronomical observations hitherto made, +I have an isosceles triangle, eight thousand miles broad at its base, +and ninety-five millions of miles in the length of each of the sides +reaching from the base to the apex. + +It is however obvious to the most indifferent observer, that the more +any triangle, or other mathematical diagram, falls within the limits +which our senses can conveniently embrace, the more securely, when our +business is practical, and our purpose to apply the result to external +objects, can we rely on the accuracy of our results. In a case therefore +like the present, where the base of our isosceles triangle is to the +other two sides as eight units to twelve thousand, it is impossible +not to perceive that it behoves us to be singularly diffident as to the +conclusion at which we have arrived, or rather it behoves us to take for +granted that we are not unlikely to fall into the most important error. +We have satisfied ourselves that the sides of the triangle including +the apex, do not form an angle, till they have arrived at the extent of +ninety-five millions of miles. How are we sure that they do then? May +not lines which have reached to so amazing a length without meeting, be +in reality parallel lines? If an angle is never formed, there can be no +result. The whole question seems to be incommensurate to our faculties. + +It being obvious that this was a very unsatisfactory scheme for arriving +at the knowledge desired, the celebrated Halley suggested another +method, in the year 1716, by an observation to be taken at the time of +the transit of Venus over the sun(50). + + + (50) Philosophical Transactions, Vol. XXIX, p. 454. + + +It was supposed that we were already pretty accurately acquainted with +the distance of the moon from the earth, it being so much nearer to us, +by observing its parallax, or the difference of its place in the heavens +as seen from the surface of the earth, from that in which it would +appear if seen from its centre(51). But the parallax of the sun is so +exceedingly small, as scarcely to afford the basis of a mathematical +calculation(52). The parallax of Venus is however almost four times as +great as that of the sun; and there must therefore be a very sensible +difference between the times in which Venus may be seen passing over +the sun from different parts of the earth. It was on this account +apprehended, that the parallax of the sun, by means of observations +taken from different places at the time of the transit of Venus in 1761 +and 1769, might be ascertained with a great degree of precision(53). + + + (51) Bonnycastle, Astronomy, 7th edition, p. 262, et seq. + + + (52) Ibid, p. 268. + + + (53) Phil. Transactions, Vol. XXIX, p. 457. + + +But the imperfectness of our instruments and means of observation +have no small tendency to baffle the ambition of man in these curious +investigations. + +"The true quantity of the moon's parallax," says Bonnycastle, "cannot be +accurately determined by the methods ordinarily resorted to, on account +of the varying declination of the moon, and the inconstancy of the +horizontal refractions, which are perpetually changing according to the +state the atmosphere is in at the time. For the moon continues but for +a short time in the equinoctial, and the refraction at a mean rate +elevates her apparent place near the horizon, half as much as her +parallax depresses it(54)." + + + (54) Astronomy, p. 265. + + +"It is well known that the parallax of the sun can never exceed nine +seconds, or the four-hundredth part of a degree(55)." "Observations," +says Halley, "made upon the vibrations of a pendulum, to determine these +exceedingly small angles, are not sufficiently accurate to be depended +upon; for by this method of ascertaining the parallax, it will sometimes +come out to be nothing, or even negative; that is, the distance will +either be infinite, or greater than infinite, which is absurd. And, to +confess the truth, it is hardly possible for a person to distinguish +seconds with certainty by any instruments, however skilfully they may +be made; and therefore it is not to be wondered at, that the excessive +nicety of this matter should have eluded the many ingenious endeavours +of the most able opetators."(56). + + + (55) Ibid, p. 268. + + + (56) Phil. Transactions, Vol. XXIX, p. 456. + + +Such are the difficulties that beset the subject on every side. It is +for the impartial and dispassionate observers who have mastered all the +subtleties of the science, if such can be found, to determine +whether the remedies that have been resorted to to obviate the above +inaccuracies and their causes, have fulfilled their end, and are not +exposed to similar errors. But it would be vain to expect the persons, +who have "scorned delights, and lived laborious days" to possess +themselves of the mysteries of astronomy, should be impartial and +dispassionate, or be disposed to confess, even to their own minds, that +their researches were useless, and their labours ended in nothing. + +It is further worthy of our attention, that the instruments with which +we measure the distance of the earth from the sun and the planets, are +the very instruments which have been pronounced upon as incompetent in +measuring the heights of mountains(57). In the latter case therefore we +have substituted a different mode for arriving at the truth, which +is supposed to be attended with greater precision: but we have no +substitute to which we can resort, to correct the mistakes into which we +may fall respecting the heavenly bodies. + + + (57) See above, Essay XXI. + + +The result of the uncertainty which adheres to all astronomical +observations is such as might have been expected. Common readers +are only informed of the latest adjustment of the question, and are +therefore unavoidably led to believe that the distance of the sun +from the earth, ever since astronomy became entitled to the name of +a science, has by universal consent been recognised as ninety-five +millions of miles, or, as near as may be, twenty-four thousand +semi-diameters of the earth. But how does the case really stand? +Copernicus and Tycho Brahe held the distance to be twelve hundred +semi-diameters; Kepler, who is received to have been perhaps the +greatest astronomer that any age has produced, puts it down as three +thousand five hundred semi-diameters; since his time, Riccioli as seven +thousand; Hevelius as five thousand two hundred and fifty(58); some +later astronomers, mentioned by Halley, as fourteen thousand; and Halley +himself as sixteen thousand five hundred(59). + + + (58) They were about thirty and forty years younger than Kepler +respectively. + + + (59) Halley, apud Philosophical Transactions, Vol. XXIX, p. 455. + + +The doctrine of fluxions is likewise called in by the astronomers in +their attempts to ascertain the distance and magnitude of the different +celestial bodies which compose the solar system; and in this way their +conclusions become subject to all the difficulties which Berkeley has +alleged against that doctrine. + +Kepler has also supplied us with another mode of arriving at the +distance and size of the sun and the planets: he has hazarded a +conjecture, that the squares of the times of the revolution of the earth +and the other planets are in proportion to the cubes of their distances +from the sun, their common centre; and, as by observation we can +arrive with tolerable certainty at a knowledge of the times of their +revolutions, we may from hence proceed to the other matters we are +desirous to ascertain. And that which Kepler seemed, as by a divine +inspiration, to hazard in the way of conjecture, Newton professes to +have demonstratively established. But the demonstration of Newton has +not been considered as satisfactory by all men of science since his +time. + +Thus far however we proceed as we may, respecting our propositions on +the subject of the solar system. But, beyond this, all science, real or +pretended, deserts us. We have no method for measuring angles, which can +be applied to the fixed stars; and we know nothing of any revolutions +they perform. All here therefore seems gratuitous: we reason from +certain alleged analogies; and we can do no more. + +Huygens endeavoured to ascertain something on the subject, by making the +aperture of a telescope so small, that the sun should appear through it +no larger than Sirius, which he found to be only in the proportion of 1 +to 27,664 times his diameter, as seen by the naked eye. Hence, supposing +Sirius to be a globe of the same magnitude as the sun, it must be 27,664 +times as distant from us as the sun, in other words, at a distance so +considerable as to equal 345 million diameters of the earth(60). Every +one must feel on how slender a thread this conclusion is suspended. + + + (60) Encyclopaedia Londinensis, Vol. 11, p. 407. + +And yet, from this small postulate, the astronomers proceed to deduce +the most astounding conclusions. They tell us, that the distance of the +nearest fixed star from the earth is at least 7,600,000,000,000 miles, +and of another they name, not less than 38 millions of millions of +miles. A cannon-ball therefore, proceeding at the rate of about twenty +miles in a minute would be 760,000 years in passing from us to the +nearest fixed star, and 3,800,000 in passing to the second star of which +we speak. Huygens accordingly concluded, that it was not impossible, +that there might be stars at such inconceivable distances from us, that +their light has not yet reached the earth since its creation(61). + + + (61) Ibid, p. 408. + + +The received system of the universe, founded upon these so called +discoveries, is that each of the stars is a sun, having planets and +comets revolving round it, as our sun has the earth and other +planets revolving round him. It has been found also by the successive +observations of astronomers, that a star now and then is totally lost, +and that a new star makes its appearance which had never been remarked +before: and this they explain into the creation of a new system from +time to time by the Almighty author of the universe, and the destruction +of an old system worn out with age(62). We must also remember the power +of attraction every where diffused through infinite space, by means +of which, as Herschel assures us, in great length of time a nebula, +or cluster of stars, may be formed, while the projectile force they +received in the beginning may prevent them from all coming together, at +least for millions of ages. Some of these nebulae, he adds, cannot well +be supposed to be at a less distance from us than six or eight thousand +times the distance of Sirius(63). Kepler however denies that each star, +of those which distinctly present themselves to our sight, can have its +system of planets as our sun has, and considers them as all fixed in the +same surface or sphere; since, if one of them were twice or thrice +as remote as another, it would, supposing their real magnitudes to be +equal, appear to be twice or thrice as small, whereas there is not in +their apparent magnitudes the slightest difference(64). + + + (62) Encycl. Lond. Vol. II, p. 411. + + + (63) Ibid, p. 348. + + + (64) Ibid, p. 411. + + +Certainly the astronomers are a very fortunate and privileged race of +men, who talk to us in this oracular way of "the unseen things of God +from the creation of the world," hanging up their conclusions upon +invisible hooks, while the rest of mankind sit listening gravely to +their responses, and unreservedly "acknowledging that their science is +the most sublime, the most interesting, and the most useful of all the +sciences cultivated by man(65)." + + + (65) Ferguson, Astronomy, Section 1. + + +We have a sensation, which we call the sensation of distance. It comes +to us from our sight and our other senses. It does not come immediately +by the organ of sight. It has been proved, that the objects we see, +previously to the comparison and correction of the reports of the organ +of sight with those of the other senses, do not suggest to us the idea +of distance, but that on the contrary whatever we see seems to touch the +eye, even as the objects of the sense of feeling touch the skin. + +But, in proportion as we compare the impressions made upon our organs of +sight with the impressions made on the other senses, we come gradually +to connect with the objects we see the idea of distance. I put out +my hand, and find at first that an object of my sense of sight is not +within the reach of my hand. I put out my hand farther, or by walking +advance my body in the direction of the object, and I am enabled to +reach it. From smaller experiments I proceed to greater. I walk towards +a tree or a building, the figure of which presents itself to my eye, +but which I find upon trial to have been far from me. I travel towards +a place that I cannot see, but which I am told lies in a certain +direction. I arrive at the place. It is thus, that by repeated +experiments I acquire the idea of remote distances. + +To confine ourselves however to the question of objects, which without +change of place I can discover by the sense of sight. I can see a town, +a tower, a mountain at a considerable distance. Let us suppose that the +limit of my sight, so far as relates to objects on the earth, is one +hundred miles. I can travel towards such an object, and thus ascertain +by means of my other senses what is its real distance. I can also employ +certain instruments, invented by man, to measure heights, suppose of +a tower, and, by experiments made in ways independent of these +instruments, verify or otherwise the report of these instruments. + +The height of the Monument of London is something more than two hundred +feet. Other elevations, the produce of human labour, are considerably +higher. It is in the nature of the mind, that we conclude from the +observation that we have verified, to the accuracy of another, bearing +a striking analogy to the former, that we have not verified. But analogy +has its limits. Is it of irresistible certainty, or is it in fact to +be considered as approaching to certainty, because we have verified +an observation extending to several hundred feet, that an observation +extending to ninety-five millions of miles, or to the incredible +distances of which Herschel so familiarly talks, is to be treated as +a fact, or laid down as a principle in science? Is it reasonable to +consider two propositions as analogous, when the thing affirmed in the +one is in dimension many million times as great as the thing affirmed +in the other? The experience we have had as to the truth of the smaller, +does it authorise us to consider the larger as unquestionable? That +which I see with a bay of the sea or a wide river between, though it +may appear very like something with which I am familiar at home, do I +immediately affirm it to be of the same species and nature, or do I not +regard it with a certain degree of scepticism, especially if, along with +the resemblance in some points, it differs essentially, as for example +in magnitude, in other points? We have a sensation, and we enquire into +its cause. This is always a question of some uncertainty. Is its cause +something of absolute and substantive existence without me, or is it +not? Is its cause something of the very same nature, as the thing that +gave me a similar sensation in a matter of comparatively a pigmy and +diminutive extension? + +All these questions an untrained and inquisitive mind will ask itself +in the propositions of astronomy. We must believe or not, as we think +proper or reasonable. We have no way of verifying the propositions by +the trial of our senses. There they lie, to be received by us in +the construction that first suggests itself to us, or not. They +are something like an agreeable imagination or fiction: and a sober +observer, in cold blood, will be disposed deliberately to weigh both +sides of the question, and to judge whether the probability lies in +favour of the actual affirmation of the millions of millions of miles, +and the other incredible propositions of the travelling of light, and +the rest, which even the most cautious and sceptical of the retainers of +modern astronomy, find themselves compelled to receive. + +But I shall be told, that the results of our observations of the +distances of the heavenly bodies are unvaried. We have measured the +distances and other phenomena of the sun, the moon, Mercury, Venus, +Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and their satellites, and they all fall into a +grand system, so as to convey to every unprejudiced mind the conviction +that this system is the truth itself. If we look at them day after day, +and year after year, we see them for ever the same, and performing +the same divine harmony. Successive astronomers in different ages and +countries have observed the celestial orbs, and swept the heavens, and +for ever bring us back the same story of the number, the dimensions, +the distances, and the arrangement of the heavenly bodies which form the +subject of astronomical science. + +This we have seen indeed not to be exactly the case. But, if it were, it +would go a very little way towards proving the point it was brought to +prove. It would shew that, the sensations and results being similar, the +causes of those results must be similar to each other, but it would not +shew that the causes were similar to the sensations produced. Thus, in +the sensations which belong to taste, smell, sound, colour, and to those +of heat and cold, there is all the uniformity which would arise, +when the real external causes bore the most exact similitude to the +perceptions they generate; and yet it is now universally confessed that +tastes, scents, sounds, colours, and heat and cold do not exist out +of ourselves. All that we are entitled therefore to conclude as to the +magnitudes and distances of the heavenly bodies, is, that the causes of +our sensations and perceptions, whatever they are, are not less uniform +than the sensations and perceptions themselves. + +It is further alleged, that we calculate eclipses, and register the +various phenomena of the heavenly bodies. Thales predicted an eclipse of +the sun, which took place nearly six hundred years before the Christian +era. The Babylonians, the Persians, the Hindoos, and the Chinese early +turned their attention to astronomy. Many of their observations were +accurately recorded; and their tables extend to a period of three +thousand years before the birth of Christ. Does not all this strongly +argue the solidity of the science to which they belong? Who, after +this, will have the presumption to question, that the men who profess +astronomy proceed on real grounds, and have a profound knowledge of +these things, which at first sight might appear to be set at a distance +so far removed from our ken? + +The answer to this is easy. I believe in all the astronomy that was +believed by Thales. I do not question the statements relative to the +heavenly bodies that were delivered by the wise men of the East. But the +supposed discoveries that were made in the eighteenth, and even in the +latter part of the seventeenth century, purporting to ascertain the +precise distance of the sun, the planets, and even of the fixed stars, +are matters entirely distinct from this. + +Among the earliest astronomers of Greece were Thales, Anaximander, +Anaximenes and Anaxagoras. Thales, we are told, held that the earth is +a sphere or globe, Anaximenes that it is like a round, flat table; +Anaximander that the sun is like a chariot-wheel, and is twenty-eight +times larger than the earth. Anaxagoras was put in prison for affirming +that the sun was by many degrees larger than the whole Peloponnesus(66). +Kepler is of opinion that all the stars are at an equal distance from +us, and are fixed in the same surface or sphere. + + + (66) Plutarch, De Placitis Philosophorum. Diogenes Laertius. + + +In reality the observations and the facts of astronomy do not depend +either upon the magnitudes or the distances of the heavenly bodies. They +proceed in the first place upon what may lie seen with the naked eye. +They require an accurate and persevering attention. They may be assisted +by telescopes. But they relate only to the sun and the planets. We are +bound to ascertain, as nearly as possible, the orbits described by the +different bodies in the solar system: but this has still nothing to do, +strictly speaking, with their magnitudes or distances. It is required +that we should know them in their relations to each other; but it is no +preliminary of just, of practical, it might almost be said, of liberal +science, that we should know any thing of them absolutely. + +The unlimited ambition of the nature of man has discovered itself in +nothing more than this, the amazing superstructure which the votaries +of contemplation within the last two hundred years have built upon the +simple astronomy of the ancients. Having begun to compute the distances +of miles by millions, it appears clearly that nothing can arrest the +more than eagle-flight of the human mind. The distance of the +nearest fixed star from the earth, we are informed, is at least +7,000,000,000,000 miles, and of another which the astronomers name, not +less than 38 millions of millions of miles. The particles of light are +said to travel 193,940 miles in every second, which is above a million +times swifter than the progress of a cannon-ball(67). And Herschel +has concluded, that the light issuing from the faintest nebulae he +has discovered, must have been at this rate two millions of years in +reaching the Barth(68). + + + (67) Ferguson, Section 216. "Light moves," says Brewster, Optics, p. 2, +"from one pole of the earth to the other in the 24th part of a second: a +velocity which surpasses all comprehension." + + + + (68) Brinkley, Astronomy, p. 130. + + +SECTION III. + +The next process of the modern astronomer is to affirm the innumerable +orbs around us, discovered with the naked eye, or with which we are made +acquainted by the aid of telescopes, to be all stocked with rational +inhabitants. The argument for this is, that an all-wise and omnipotent +creator could never have produced such immense bodies, dispersed through +infinite space, for any meaner purpose, than that of peopling them with +"intelligent beings, formed for endless progression in perfection and +felicity(69)." + + + (69) See above, Essay XXI. + + +Now it appears to me, that, in these assertions, the modern astronomers +are taking upon themselves somewhat too boldly, to expound the counsels +of that mysterious power, to which the universe is indebted for its +arrangement and order. + +We know nothing of God but from his works. Certain speculative men have +adventured to reason upon the source of all the system and the wonders +that we behold, a priori, and, having found that the creator is all +powerful, all wise, and of infinite goodness, according to their ideas +of power, wisdom and goodness, have from thence proceeded to draw their +inferences, and to shew us in what manner the works of his hands are +arranged and conducted by him. This no doubt they have done with the +purest intentions in the world; but it is not certain, that their +discretion has equalled the boldness of their undertaking. + +The world that we inhabit, this little globe of earth, is to us an +infinite mystery. Human imagination is unable to conceive any thing more +consummate than the great outline of things below. The trees and the +skies, the mountains and the seas, the rivers and the springs, appear as +if the design had been to realise the idea of paradise. The freshness of +the air, the silvery light of day, the magnificence of the clouds, +the gorgeous and soothing colouring of the world, the profusion and +exquisiteness of the fruits and flowers of the earth, are as if nothing +but joy and delicious sensations had been intended for us. When we +ascend to the animal creation, the scene is still more admirable and +transporting. The birds and the beasts, the insects that skim the air, +and the fishes that live in the great deep, are a magazine of wonders, +that we may study for ever, without fear of arriving at the end of their +excellence. Last of all, comes the crown of the creation, man, formed +with looks erect, to commerce with the skies. What a masterpiece of +workmanship is his form, while the beauty and intelligence of Gods seems +to manifest itself in his countenance! Look at that most consummate of +all implements, the human hand; think of his understanding, how composed +and penetrating; of the wealth of his imagination; of the resplendent +virtues he is qualified to display! "How wonderful are thy works, Oh +God; in wisdom hast thou created them all!" + +But there are other parts of the system in which we live, which do not +seem to correspond with those already enumerated. Before we proceed to +people infinite space, it would be as well, if we surveyed the surface +of the earth we inhabit. What vast deserts do we find in it; what +immense tracks of burning sands! One half of the globe is perhaps +irreclaimable to the use of man. Then let us think of earthquakes and +tempests, of wasting hurricanes, and the number of vessels, freighted +with human beings, that are yearly buried in the caverns of the ocean. +Let us call to mind in man, the prime ornament of the creation, all the +diseases to which his frame is subject, + + Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, + Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, + Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy, + And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, + Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, + Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums. + +The very idea of our killing, and subsisting upon the flesh of animals, +surely somewhat jars with our conceptions of infinite benevolence. + +But, when we look at the political history of man, the case is +infinitely worse. This too often seems one tissue of misery and vice. +War, conquest, oppression, tyranny, slavery, insurrections, massacres, +cruel punishments, degrading corporal infliction, and the extinction of +life under the forms of law, are to be found in almost every page. It is +as if an evil demon were let loose upon us, and whole nations, from one +decad of years to another, were struck with the most pernicious madness. +Certain reasoners tell us that this is owing to the freedom of will, +without which man could not exist. But here we are presented with an +alternative, from which it is impossible for human understanding to +escape. Either God, according to our ideas of benevolence, would remove +evil out of the world, and cannot; or he can, and will not. If he has +the will and not the power, this argues weakness; if he has the power +and not the will, this seems to be malevolence. + +Let us descend from the great stage of the nations, and look into the +obscurities of private misery. Which of us is happy? What bitter springs +of misery overflow the human heart, and are borne by us in silence! What +cruel disappointments beset us! To what struggles are we doomed, while +we struggle often in vain! The human heart seems framed, as if to be the +capacious receptacle of all imaginable sorrows. The human frame seems +constructed, as if all its fibres were prepared to sustain varieties +of torment. "In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread, till thou +return to the earth." But how often does that sweat prove ineffective! +There are men of whom sorrow seems to be the destiny, from which they +can never escape. There are hearts, into which by their constitution +it appears as if serenity and content could never enter, but which +are given up to all the furious passions, or are for ever the prey of +repining and depression. + + Ah, little think the gay, licentious proud, + Whom pleasure, power and affluence surround, + How many pine in want! How many shrink + Into the sordid hut, how many drink + The cup of grief, and eat the bitter bread + Of misery! + +And, which aggravates the evil, almost all the worst vices, the most +unprincipled acts, and the darkest passions of the human mind, are bred +out of poverty and distress. Satan, in the Book of Job, says to the +Almighty, "Thou hast blessed the work of thy servant, and his substance +is increased in the land. But put forth thy hand now, and take away all +that he hath; and he will curse thee to thy face." The prayer of Agar +runs, "Feed me with food convenient for me; lest I be poor, and steal, +and take the name of my God in vain." + +It is with a deep knowledge of the scenes of life, that the prophet +pronounces, "My thoughts are not your thoughts; neither are your ways my +ways, saith the Lord." + +All reflecting persons, who have surveyed the state of the world in +which we live, have been struck with the contrarieties of sublunary +things; and many hypotheses have been invented to solve the enigma. Some +have maintained the doctrine of two principles, Oromasdes and Arimanius, +the genius of good and of evil, who are perpetually contending with each +other which shall have the greatest sway in the fortunes of the world, +and each alternately acquiring the upper hand. Others have inculcated +the theory of the fall of man, that God at first made all things +beautiful and good, but that man has incurred his displeasure, and been +turned out of the paradise for which he was destined. Hence, they say, +has arisen the corruption of our nature. "There is none that cloth good, +no, not one. That every mouth may be stopped, and all the world become +guilty before God." But the solution that has been most generally +adopted, particularly in later days, is that of a future state of +retribution, in which all the inequalities of our present condition +shall be removed, the tears of the unfortunate and the sufferer shall be +wiped from their eyes, and their agonies and miseries compensated. This, +in other words, independently of the light of revelation, is to infer +infinite wisdom and benevolence from what we see, and then, finding +the actual phenomena not to correspond with our theories, to invent +something of which we have no knowledge, to supply the deficiency. + +The astronomer however proceeds from what we see of the globe of earth, +to fashion other worlds of which we have no direct knowledge. Finding +that there is no part of the soil of the earth into which our wanderings +can penetrate, that is not turned to the account of rational and happy +beings, creatures capable of knowing and adoring their creator, that +nature does nothing in vain, and that the world is full of the evidences +of his unmingled beneficence, according to our narrow and imperfect +ideas of beneficence, (for such ought to be our premises) we proceed to +construct millions of worlds upon the plan we have imagined. The earth +is a globe, the planets are globes, and several of them larger than our +earth: the earth has a moon; several of the planets have satellites: the +globe we dwell in moves in an orbit round the sun; so do the planets: +upon these premises, and no more, we hold ourselves authorised to affirm +that they contain "myriads of intelligent beings, formed for endless +progression in perfection and felicity." Having gone thus far, we next +find that the fixed stars bear a certain resemblance to the sun; and, as +the sun has a number of planets attendant on him, so, we say, has each +of the fixed stars, composing all together "ten thousand times ten +thousand" habitable worlds. + +All this is well, so long as we view it as a bold and ingenious +conjecture. On any other subject it would be so regarded; and we +should consider it as reserved for the amusement and gratification of +a fanciful visionary in the hour, when he gives up the reins to his +imagination. But, backed as it is by a complexity of geometrical right +lines and curves, and handed forth to us in large quartos, stuffed with +calculations, it experiences a very different fortune. We are told that, +"by the knowledge we derive from astronomy, our faculties are enlarged, +our minds exalted, and our understandings clearly convinced, and +affected with the conviction, of the existence, wisdom, power, goodness, +immutability and superintendency of the supreme being; so that, without +an hyperbole, 'an undevout astronomer is mad(e)(70).'" + + + (70) Ferguson, Astronomy, Section I. + + +It is singular, how deeply I was impressed with this representation, +while I was a schoolboy, and was so led to propose a difficulty to the +wife of the master. I said, "I find that we have millions of worlds +round us peopled with rational creatures. I know not that we have any +decisive reason for supposing these creatures more exalted, than the +wonderful species of which we are individuals. We are imperfect; they +are imperfect. We fell; it is reasonable to suppose that they have +fallen also. It became necessary for the second person in the trinity to +take upon him our nature, and by suffering for our sins to appease +the wrath of his father. I am unwilling to believe that he has less +commiseration for the inhabitants of other planets. But in that case it +may be supposed that since the creation he has been making a circuit of +the planets, and dying on the cross for the sins of rational creatures +in uninterrupted succession." The lady was wiser than I, admonished me +of the danger of being over-inquisitive, and said we should act more +discreetly in leaving those questions to the judgment of the Almighty. + +But thus far we have reasoned only on one side of the question. Our +pious sentiments have led us to magnify the Lord in all his works, and, +however imperfect the analogy, and however obscure the conception we +can form of the myriads of rational creatures, all of them no doubt +infinitely varied in their nature, their structure and faculties, yet to +view the whole scheme with an undoubting persuasion of its truth. It is +however somewhat in opposition to the ideas of piety formed by our less +adventurous ancestors, that we should usurp the throne of God, + + Snatch from his hand the balance and the rod, + +and, by means of our telescopes and our calculations, penetrate into +mysteries not originally intended for us. According to the received +Mosaic chronology we are now in the five thousand eight hundred and +thirty-fifth year from the creation: the Samaritan version adds to +this date. It is therefore scarcely in the spirit of a Christian, that +Herschel talks to us of a light, which must have been two millions of +years in reaching the earth. + +Moses describes the operations of the Almighty, in one of the six +days devoted to the work of creation, as being to place "lights in the +firmament of heaven, to divide the day from the night, to be for signs +and for seasons, and for days and years, and to give light upon the +earth; two great lights, the greater to rule the day, and the lesser the +night; and the stars also." And Christ, prophesying what is to happen +in the latter days, says, "The sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall +not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven." Whatever +therefore be the piety of the persons, who talk to us of "ten thousand +times ten thousand worlds, all peopled with rational creatures," it +certainly is not a piety in precise accordance with the Christian +scriptures. + + +SECTION IV. It is also no more than just, that we should bear in mind +the apparent fitness or otherwise, of these bodies, so far as we are +acquainted with them, for the dwelling-place of rational creatures. Not +to mention the probable extreme coldness of Jupiter and Saturn, the heat +of the sunbeams in the planet Mercury is understood to be such as +that water would unavoidably boil and be carried away(71), and we can +scarcely imagine any living substance that would not be dissolved and +dispersed in such an atmosphere. The moon, of which, as being so much +nearer to us, we may naturally be supposed to know most, we are told +by the astronomers has no water and no atmosphere, or, if any, such an +atmosphere as would not sustain clouds and ascending vapour. To our eye, +as seen through the telescope, it appears like a metallic substance, +which has been burned by fire, and so reduced into the ruined and ragged +condition in which we seem to behold it. The sun appears to be still +less an appropriate habitation for rational, or for living creatures, +than any of the planets. The comets, which describe an orbit so +exceedingly eccentric, and are subject to all the excessive vicissitudes +of heat and cold, are, we are told, admirably adapted for a scene +of eternal, or of lengthened punishment for those who have acquitted +themselves ill in a previous state of probation. Buffon is of opinion, +that all the planets in the solar system were once so many portions of +our great luminary, struck off from the sun by the blow of a comet, and +so having received a projectile impulse calculated to carry them +forward in a right line, at the same time that the power of attraction +counteracts this impulse, and gives them that compound principle of +motion which retains them in an orbicular course. In this sense it may +be said that all the planets were suns; while on the contrary Herschel +pronounces, that the sun itself is a planet, an opake body, richly +stored with inhabitants(72). + + + (71) Encyclopaedia Londinensis, Vol. II, p. 355. + + + (72) Philosophical Transactions for 1795, p. 68. + + +The modern astronomers go on to account to us for the total +disappearance of a star in certain cases, which, they say, may be in +reality the destruction of a system, such as that of our sun and its +attendant planets, while the appearance of a new star may, in like +manner, be the occasional creation of a new system of planets. "We ought +perhaps," says Herschel, "to look upon certain clusters of stars, and +the destruction of a star now and then in some thousands of ages, as the +very means by which the whole is preserved and renewed. These clusters +may be the laboratories of the universe, wherein the most salutary +remedies for the decay of the whole are prepared(73)." + + + (73) Philosophical Transactions for 1785, p. 217. + + +All this must appear to a sober mind, unbitten by the rage which grows +out of the heat of these new discoverers, to be nothing less than +astronomy run mad. This occasional creation of new systems and worlds, +is in little accordance with the Christian scriptures, or, I believe, +with any sober speculation upon the attributes of the creator. The +astronomer seizes upon some hint so fine as scarcely by any ingenuity to +be arrested, immediately launches forth into infinite space, and in an +instant returns, and presents us with millions of worlds, each of them +peopled with ten thousand times ten thousand inhabitants. + +We spoke a while since of the apparent unfitness of many of the heavenly +bodies for the reception of living inhabitants. But for all this these +discoverers have a remedy. They remind us how unlike these inhabitants +may be to ourselves, having other organs than ours, and being able to +live in a very different temperature. "The great heat in the planet +Mercury is no argument against its being inhabited; since the Almighty +could as easily suit the bodies and constitutions of its inhabitants to +the heat of their dwelling, as he has done ours to the temperature of +our earth. And it is very probable that the people there have such an +opinion of us, as we have of the inhabitants of Jupiter and Saturn; +namely, that we must be intolerably cold, and have very little light at +so great a distance from the sun." + +These are the remarks of Ferguson(74). One of our latest astronomers +expresses himself to the same purpose. + + + (74) Astronomy, Section 22. + + +"We have no argument against the planets being inhabited by rational +beings, and consequently by witnesses of the creator's power, +magnificence and benevolence, unless it be said that some are much +nearer the sun than the earth is, and therefore must be uninhabitable +from heat, and those more distant from cold. Whatever objection this may +be against their being inhabited by rational beings, of an organisation +similar to those on the earth, it can have little force, when urged with +respect to rational beings in general. + +"But we may examine without indulging too much in conjecture, whether +it be not possible that the planets may be possessed by rational beings, +and contain animals and vegetables, even little different from those +with which we are familiar. + +"Is the sun the principal cause of the temperature of the earth? We have +reason to suppose that it is not. The mean temperature of the earth, at +a small depth from the surface, seems constant in summer and in winter, +and is probably coeval with its first formation. + +"At the planet Mercury, the direct heat of the sun, or its power of +causing heat, is six times greater than with us. If we suppose the mean +temperature of Mercury to be the same as of the earth, and the planet +to be surrounded with an atmosphere, denser than that of the earth, +less capable of transmitting heat, or rather the influence of the sun to +extricate heat, and at the same time more readily conducting it to keep +up an evenness of temperature, may we not suppose the planet Mercury fit +for the habitation of men, and the production of vegetables similar to +our own? + +"At the Georgium Sidus, the direct influence of the sun is 360 times +less than at the earth, and the sun is there seen at an angle not much +greater than that under which we behold Venus, when nearest. Yet may not +the mean temperature of the Georgium Sidus be nearly the same as that of +the earth? May not its atmosphere more easily transmit the influence of +the sun, and may not the matter of heat be more copiously combined, and +more readily extricated, than with us? Whence changes of season similar +to our own may take place. Even in the comets we may suppose no great +change of temperature takes place, as we know of no cause which will +deprive them of their mean temperature, and particularly if we suppose, +that on their approach towards the sun, there is a provision for +their atmosphere becoming denser. The tails they exhibit, when in the +neighbourhood of the sun, seem in some measure to countenance this idea. + +"We can hardly suppose the sun, a body three hundred times larger than +all the planets together, was created only to preserve the periodic +motions, and give light and heat to the planets. Many astronomers have +thought that its atmosphere only is luminous, and its body opake, and +probably of the same constitution as the planets. Allowing therefore +that its luminous atmosphere only extricates heat, we see no reason why +the sun itself should not be inhabited(75)." + + + (75) Brinkley, Elements of Astronomy, Chap. IX. + + +There is certainly no end to the suppositions that may be made by an +ingenious astronomer. May we not suppose that we might do nearly as well +altogether without the sun, which it appears is at present of little use +to us as to warmth and heat? As to light, the great creator might, for +aught we know, find a substitute; feelers, for example, endued with +a certain acuteness of sense: or, at all events, the least imaginable +degree of light might answer every purpose to organs adapted to this +kind of twilight. In that way the inhabitants of the Georgium Sidus are +already sufficiently provided for; they appear to have as little benefit +of the light as of the heat of the sun. How the satellites of the +distant planets are supplied with light is a mystery, since their +principals have scarcely any. Unless indeed, like the sun, they have a +luminous atmosphere, competent to enlighten a whole system, themselves +being opake. But in truth light in a greater or less degree seems +scarcely worthy of a thought, since the inhabitants of the planet +Mercury have not their eyes put out by a light, scarcely inferior in +radiance to that which is reflected by those plates of burning brass, +with which tyrants in some ages were accustomed to extinguish the +sense of vision in their unfortunate victims. The comets also must be +a delectable residence; that of 1680 completing its orbit in 576 years, +and being at its greatest distance about eleven thousand two hundred +millions of miles from the sun, and at its least within less than a +third part of the sun's semi-diameter from its surface(76). They must +therefore have delightful vicissitudes of light and the contrary; +for, as to heat, that is already provided for. Archdeacon Brinkley's +postulate is, that these bodies are "possessed by rational beings, and +contain animals and vegetables, little different from those with which +we are familiar." + + + (76) Ferguson, Section 93. + + +Now the only reason we have to believe in these extraordinary +propositions, is the knowledge we possess of the divine attributes. From +the force of this consideration it is argued that God will not leave any +sensible area of matter unoccupied, and therefore that it is impossible +that such vast orbs as we believe surround us even to the extent of +infinite space, should not be "richly stored with rational beings, +the capable witnesses of his power, magnificence and benevolence." All +difficulties arising from the considerations of light, and heat, and a +thousand other obstacles, are to give way to the perfect insight we +have as to how the deity will conduct himself in every case that can be +proposed. I am not persuaded that this is agreeable to religion; and +I am still less convinced that it is compatible with the sobriety and +sedateness of common sense. + +It is with some degree of satisfaction that I perceive lord Brougham, +the reputed author of the Preliminary Discourse to the Library of Useful +Knowledge, at the same time that he states the dimensions and distances +of the heavenly bodies in the usual way, says not a word of their +inhabitants. + +It is somewhat remarkable that, since the commencement of the present +century, four new planets have been added to those formerly contained in +the enumeration of the solar system. They lie between the planets Mars +and Jupiter, and have been named Vesta, Juno, Ceres and Pallas. Brinkley +speaks of them in this manner. "The very small magnitudes of the new +planets Ceres and Pallas, and their nearly equal distances from the sun, +induced Dr. Olbers, who discovered Pallas in 1802, nearly in the same +place where he had observed Ceres a few months before, to conjecture +that they were fragments of a larger planet, which had by some unknown +cause been broken to pieces. It follows from the law of gravity, by +which the planets are retained in their orbits, that each fragment would +again, after every revolution about the sun, pass nearly through the +place in which the planet was when the catastrophe happened, and besides +the orbit of each fragment would intersect the continuation of the line +joining this place and the sun. Thence it was easy to ascertain the +two particular regions of the heavens through which all these fragments +would pass. Also, by carefully noting the small stars thereabout, and +examining them from time to time, it might be expected that more of the +fragments would be discovered.--M. Harding discovered the planet Juno +in one of these regions; and Dr. Olbers himself also, by carefully +examining them (the small stars) from time to time, discovered Vesta." + +These additions certainly afford us a new epoch in the annals of the +solar system, and of astronomy itself. It is somewhat remarkable, that +Herschel, who in the course of his observations traced certain nebulae, +the light from which must have been two millions of years in reaching +the earth, should never have remarked these planets, which, so to +speak, lay at his feet. It reminds one of Esop's astrologer, who, to the +amusement of his ignorant countrymen, while he was wholly occupied in +surveying the heavens, suddenly found himself plunged in a pit. These +new planets also we are told are fragments of a larger planet: how came +this larger planet never to have been discovered? + +Till Herschel's time we were content with six planets and the sun, +making up the cabalistical number seven. He added another. But these +four new ones entirely derange the scheme. The astronomers have not yet +had opportunity to digest them into their places, and form new worlds of +them. This is all unpleasant. They are, it seems, "fragments of a larger +planet, which had by some unknown cause been broken to pieces." They +therefore are probably not inhabited. How does this correspond with the +goodness of God, which will suffer no mass of matter in his creation +to remain unoccupied? Herschel talks at his ease of whole systems, suns +with all their attendant planets, being consigned to destruction. But +here we have a catastrophe happening before our eyes, and cannot avoid +being shocked by it. "God does nothing in vain." For which of his lofty +purposes has this planet been broken to pieces, and its fragments left +to deform the system of which we are inhabitants; at least to humble +the pride of man, and laugh to scorn his presumption? Still they perform +their revolutions, and obey the projectile and gravitating forces, which +have induced us to people ten thousand times ten thousand worlds. It is +time, that we should learn modesty, to revere in silence the great cause +to which the universe is indebted for its magnificence, its beauty and +harmony, and to acknowledge that we do not possess the key that should +unlock the mysteries of creation. + +One of the most important lessons that can be impressed on the human +mind, is that of self-knowledge and a just apprehension of what it is +that we are competent to achieve. We can do much. We are capable of much +knowledge and much virtue. We have patience, perseverance and subtlety. +We can put forth considerable energies, and nerve ourselves to resist +great obstacles and much suffering. Our ingenuity is various and +considerable. We can form machines, and erect mighty structures. The +invention of man for the ease of human life, and for procuring it a +multitude of pleasures and accommodations, is truly astonishing. We can +dissect the human frame, and anatomise the mind. We can study the scene +of our social existence, and make extraordinary improvements in the +administration of justice, and in securing to ourselves that germ of +all our noblest virtues, civil and political liberty. We can study the +earth, its strata, its soil, its animals, and its productions, "from the +cedar that is in Lebanon, to the hyssop that springeth out of the wall." + +But man is not omnipotent. If he aspires to be worthy of honour, it is +necessary that he should compute his powers, and what it is they are +competent to achieve. The globe of earth, with "all that is therein," is +our estate and our empire. Let us be content with that which we have. It +were a pitiful thing to see so noble a creature struggling in a field, +where it is impossible for him to distinguish himself, or to effect +any thing real. There is no situation in which any one can appear more +little and ludicrous, than when he engages in vain essays, and seeks +to accomplish that, which a moment's sober thought would teach him was +utterly hopeless. + +Even astronomy is to a certain degree our own. We can measure the course +of the sun, and the orbits of the planets. We can calculate eclipses. +We can number the stars, assign to them their places, and form them into +what we call constellations. But, when we pretend to measure millions +of miles in the heavens, and to make ourselves acquainted with +the inhabitants of ten thousand times ten thousand worlds and the +accommodations which the creator has provided for their comfort and +felicity, we probably engage in something more fruitless and idle, than +the pigmy who should undertake to bend the bow of Ulysses, or strut and +perform the office of a warrior clad in the armour of Achilles. + +How beautiful is the "firmament; this majestical roof fretted with +golden fire!" Let us beware how we mar the magnificent scene with our +interpolations and commentaries! Simplicity is of the essence of the +truly great. Let us look at the operations of that mighty power from +which we ourselves derive our existence, with humility and reverential +awe! It may well become us. Let us not "presume into the heaven of +heavens," unbidden, unauthorised guests! Let us adopt the counsel of +the apostle, and allow no man to "spoil us through vain philosophy." The +business of human life is serious; the useful investigations in which +we may engage are multiplied. It is excellent to see a rational being +conscious of his genuine province, and not idly wasting powers adapted +for the noblest uses in unmeasured essays and ill-concocted attempts. + + + + +ESSAY XXII. OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. + +In the preceding Essay I have referred to the theory of Berkeley, whose +opinion is that there is no such thing as matter in the sense in which +it is understood by the writers on natural philosophy, and that the +whole of our experience in that respect is the result of a system of +accidents without an intelligible subject, by means of which antecedents +and consequents flow on for ever in a train, the past succession +of which man is able to record, and the future in many cases he is +qualified to predict and to act upon. + +An argument more palpable and popular than that of Berkeley in favour of +the same hypothesis, might be deduced from the points recapitulated +in that Essay as delivered by Locke and Newton. If what are vulgarly +denominated the secondary qualities of matter are in reality nothing but +sensations existing in the human mind, then at any rate matter is a very +different thing from what it is ordinarily apprehended to be. To which +I add, in the second place, that, if matter, as is stated by Newton, +consists in so much greater a degree of pores than solid parts, that +the absolute particles contained in the solar system might, for aught we +know, he contained in a nutshell(77), and that no two ever touched each +other, or approached so near that they might not be brought nearer, +provided a sufficient force could be applied for that purpose,--and if, +as Priestley teaches, all that we observe is the result of successive +spheres of attraction and repulsion, the centre of which is a +mathematical point only, we then certainly come very near to a +conclusion, which should banish matter out of the theatre of real +existences(78). + + + (77) See above, Essay XXI. + + + (78) See above, Essay XXI. + + +But the extreme subtleties of human intellect are perhaps of little +further use, than to afford an amusement to persons of curious +speculation, and whose condition in human society procures them leisure +for such enquiries. The same thing happens here, as in the subject of +my Twelfth Essay, on the Liberty of Human Actions. The speculator in his +closet is one man: the same person, when he comes out of his retirement, +and mixes in intercourse with his fellow-creatures, is another man. +The necessarian, when he reasons on the everlasting concatenation +of antecedents and consequents, proves to his own apprehension +irrefragably, that he is a passive instrument, acted upon, and acting +upon other things, in turn, and that he can never disengage himself +from the operation of the omnipotent laws of physical nature, and the +impulses of other men with whom he is united in the ties of society. But +no sooner does this acute and ingenious reasoner come into active +life and the intercourse of his fellowmen, than all these fine-drawn +speculations vanish from his recollection. He regards himself and other +men as beings endowed with a liberty of action, as possessed of a proper +initiative power, and free to do a thing or not to do it, without being +subject to the absolute and irresistible constraint of motives. It is +from this internal and indefeasible sense of liberty, that we draw +all our moral energies and enthusiasm, that we persevere heroically in +defiance of obstacles and discouragements, that we praise or blame the +actions of others, and admire the elevated virtues of the best of +our contemporaries, and of those whose achievements adorn the page of +history. + +It is in a manner of precisely the same sort as that which prevails +in the philosophical doctrines of liberty and necessity, that we find +ourselves impelled to feel on the question of the existence of the +material universe. Berkeley, and as many persons as are persuaded by his +or similar reasonings, feel satisfied in speculation that there is +no such thing as matter in the sense in which it is understood by the +writers on natural philosophy, and that all our notions of the external +and actual existence of the table, the chair, and the other material +substances with which we conceive ourselves to be surrounded, of +woods, and mountains, and rivers, and seas, are mere prejudice and +misconception. All this is very well in the closet, and as long as we +are involved in meditation, and remain abstracted from action, business, +and the exertion of our limbs and corporal faculties. But it is too +fine for the realities of life. Berkeley, and the most strenuous and +spiritualised of his followers, no sooner descend from the high tower of +their speculations, submit to the necessities of their nature, and mix +in the business of the world, than they become impelled, as strongly +as the necessarian in the question of the liberty of human actions, not +only to act like other men, but even to feel just in the same manner as +if they had never been acquainted with these abstractions. A table then +becomes absolutely a table, and a chair a chair: they are "fed with the +same food, hurt by the same weapons, and warmed and cooled by the same +summer and winter," as other men: and they make use of the refreshments +which nature requires, with as true an orthodoxy, and as credulous a +temper, as he who was never assailed with such refinements. Nature is +too strong, to be prevailed on to retire, and give way to the authority +of definitions and syllogistical deduction. + +But, when we have granted all this, it is however a mistake to say, that +these "subtleties of human intellect are of little further use, than +to afford an amusement to persons of curious speculation(79)." We have +seen, in the case of the doctrine of philosophical necessity(80), that, +though it can never form a rule for the intercourse between man and man, +it may nevertheless be turned to no mean advantage. It is calculated +to inspire us with temperance and toleration. It tends impressively to +evince to us, that this scene of things is but like the shadows which +pass before us in a magic lanthorn, and that, after all, men are but +the tools, not the masters, of their fate. It corrects the illusions of +life, much after the same manner as the spectator of a puppet-shew is +enlightened, who should be taken within the curtain, and shewn how the +wires are pulled by the master, which produce all the turmoil and strife +that before riveted our attention. It is good for him who would arrive +at all the improvement of which our nature is capable, at one time to +take his place among the literal beholders of the drama, and at another +to go behind the scenes, and remark the deceptions in their original +elements, and the actors in their proper and natural costume. + + + (79) See above, Essay XXII. + + + (80) See above, Essay XII. + + +And, as in the question of the liberty of human actions, so in that +of the reality of the material universe, it is a privilege not to be +despised, that we are so formed as to be able to dissect the subject +that is submitted to our examination, and to strip the elements of which +this sublunary scene is composed, of the disguise in which they present +themselves to the vulgar spectator. It is little, after all, that we +are capable to know; and the man of heroic mind and generous enterprise, +will not refuse the discoveries that are placed within his reach. The +subtleties of grammar are as the porch, which leads from the knowledge +of words to the knowledge of things. The subtleties of mathematics +defecate the grossness of our apprehension, and supply the elements of +a sounder and severer logic. And in the same manner the faculty which +removes the illusions of external appearance, and enables us to "look +into the seeds of time," is one which we are bound to estimate at its +genuine value. The more we refine our faculties, other things equal, +the wiser we grow: we are the more raised above the thickness of the +atmosphere that envelops our fellow-mortals, and are made partakers of a +nature superhuman and divine. + +There is a curious question that has risen out of this proposition of +Berkeley, of the supposed illusion we suffer in our conceptions of the +material universe. It has been said, "Well then, I am satisfied that +the chairs, the tables, and the other material substances with which I +conceive myself to be surrounded, are not what they appear to be, but +are merely an eternal chain of antecedents and consequents, going on +according to what Leibnitz calls a 'preestablished harmony,' and thus +furnishing the ground of the speculations which mortals cherish, and the +motives of their proceeding. But, if thus, in the ordinary process of +human affairs, we believe in matter, when in reality there is no such +thing as matter, how shall we pronounce of mind, and the things which +happen to us in our seeming intercourse with our fellow-men, and in +the complexities of love and hatred, of kindred and friendship, of +benevolence and misanthropy, of robbery and murder, and of the wholesale +massacre of thousands of human beings which are recorded in the page of +history? We absolutely know nothing of the lives and actions of others +but through the medium of material impulse. And, if you take away +matter, the bodies of our fellow-men, does it not follow by irresistible +consequence that all knowledge of their minds is taken away also? Am not +I therefore (the person engaged in reading the present Essay) the only +being in existence, an entire universe to myself?" + +Certainly this is a very different conclusion from any that Berkeley +ever contemplated. In the very title of the Treatise in which his +notions on this subject are unfolded, he professes his purpose to be to +remove "the grounds of scepticism, atheism and irreligion." Berkeley was +a sincere Christian, and a man of the most ingenuous dispositions. Pope, +in the Epilogue to his Satires, does not hesitate to ascribe to him +"every virtue under heaven." He was for twenty years a prelate of the +Protestant church. And, though his personal sentiments were in the +highest degree philanthropical and amiable, yet, in his most diffusive +production, entitled The Minute Philosopher, he treats "those who +are called Free Thinkers" with a scorn and disdain, scarcely to be +reconciled with the spirit of Christian meekness. + +There are examples however, especially in the fields of controversy, +where an adventurous speculatist has been known to lay down premises and +principles, from which inferences might be fairly deduced, incompatible +with the opinions entertained by him who delivered them. It may +therefore be no unprofitable research to enquire how far the creed of +the non-existence of matter is to be regarded as in truth and reality +countenancing the inference which has just been recited. + +The persons then, who refine with Berkeley upon the system of things so +far, as to deny that there is any such thing as matter in the sense in +which it is understood by the writers on natural philosophy, proceed +on the ground of affirming that we have no reason to believe that the +causes of our sensations have an express resemblance to the sensations +themselves(81). That which gives us a sensation of colour is not itself +coloured: and the same may be affirmed of the sensations of hot and +cold, of sweet and bitter, and of odours offensive or otherwise. The +immaterialist proceeds to say, that what we call matter has been strewn +to be so exceedingly porous, that, for any thing we know, all the solid +particles in the universe might be contained in a nutshell, that there +is no such thing in the external world as actual contact, and that no +two particles of matter were ever so near to each other, but that they +might be brought nearer, if a sufficient force could be applied for +that purpose. From these premises it seems to follow with sufficient +evidence, that the causes of our sensations, so far as the material +universe is concerned, bear no express resemblance to the sensations +themselves. + + + (81) See above, Essay XXI. + + +How then does the question stand with relation to mind? Are those +persons who deny the existence of matter, reduced, if they would be +consistent in their reasonings, to deny, each man for himself, that he +has any proper evidence of the existence of other minds than his own? + +He denies, while he has the sensation of colour, that there exists +colour out of himself, unless in thinking and percipient beings +constituted in a manner similar to that in which he is constituted. And +the same of the sensations of hot and cold, sweet and bitter, and +odours offensive or otherwise. He affirms, while he has the sensation of +length, breadth and thickness, that there is no continuous substance out +of himself, possessing the attributes of length, breadth and thickness +in any way similar to the sensation of which he is conscious. +He professes therefore that he has no evidence, arising from his +observation of what we call matter, of the actual existence of a +material world. He looks into himself, and all he finds is sensation; +but sensation cannot be a property of inert matter. There is therefore +no assignable analogy between the causes of his sensations, whatever +they may be, and the sensations themselves; and the material world, such +as we apprehend it, is the mere creature of his own mind. + +Let us next consider how this question stands as to the conceptions he +entertains respecting the minds of other men. That which gives him the +sensation of colour, is not any thing coloured out of himself; and that +which gives him the sensation of length, breadth and thickness, is +not any thing long, broad and thick in a manner corresponding with the +impression he receives. There is nothing in the nature of a parallel, a +type and its archetype, between that which is without him and that which +is within, the impresser and the impression. This is the point supposed +to be established by Locke and Newton, and by those who have followed +the reasonings of these philosophers into their remotest consequences. + +But the case is far otherwise in the impressions we receive respecting +the minds of other men. In colour it has been proved by these authors +that there is no express correspondence and analogy between the cause of +the sensation and the sensation. They are not part and counterpart. +But in mind there is a precise resemblance and analogy between the +conceptions we are led to entertain respecting other men, and what +we know of ourselves. I and my associate, or fellow-man, are like two +instruments of music constructed upon the same model. We have each of +us, so to speak, the three great divisions of sound, base, tenor and +treble. We have each the same number of keys, capable of being struck, +consecutively or with alternations, at the will of the master. We can +utter the same sound or series of sounds, or sounds of a different +character, but which respond to each other. My neighbour therefore being +of the same nature as myself, what passes within me may be regarded as +amounting to a commanding evidence that he is a real being, having a +proper and independent existence. + +There is further something still more impressive and irresistible in the +notices I receive respecting the minds of other men. The sceptics whose +reasonings I am here taking into consideration, admit, each man for +himself, the reality of his own existence. There is such a thing +therefore as human nature; for he is a specimen of it. Now the idea of +human nature, or of man, is a very complex thing. He is in the first +place the subject of sensible impressions, however these impressions are +communicated to him. He has the faculties of thinking and feeling. He is +subject to the law of the association of ideas, or, in other words, any +one idea existing in his mind has a tendency to call up the ideas of +other things which have been connected with it in his first experience. +He has, be it delusive or otherwise, the sense of liberty of action. + +But we will go still further into detail as to the nature of man. + +Our lives are carried forward by the intervention of what we call meat, +drink and sleep. We are liable to the accidents of health and sickness. +We are alternately the recipients of joy and sorrow, of cheerfulness and +melancholy. Our passions are excited by similar means, whether of love +or hatred, complacency or indignation, sympathy or resentment. I could +fill many pages with a description of the properties or accidents, which +belong to man as such, or to which he is liable. + +Now with all these each man is acquainted in the sphere of his inward +experience, whether he is a single being standing by himself, or is an +individual belonging to a numerous species. + +Observe then the difference between my acquaintance with the phenomena +of the material universe, and with the individuals of my own species. +The former say nothing to me; they are a series of events and no more; +I cannot penetrate into their causes; that which gives rise to my +sensations, may or may not be similar to the sensations themselves. The +follower of Berkeley or Newton has satisfied himself in the negative. + +But the case is very different in my intercourse with my fellow-men. +Agreeably to the statement already made I know the reality of human +nature; for I feel the particulars that constitute it within myself. +The impressions I receive from that intercourse say something to me; +for they talk to me of beings like myself. My own existence becomes +multiplied in infinitum. Of the possibility of matter I know nothing; +but with the possibility of mind I am acquainted; for I am myself an +example. I am amazed at the consistency and systematic succession of the +phenomena of the material universe; though I cannot penetrate the veil +which presents itself to my grosser sense, nor see effects in their +causes. But I can see, in other words, I have the most cogent reasons +to believe in, the causes of the phenomena that occur in my apparent +intercourse with my fellow-men. What solution so natural, as that +they are produced by beings like myself, the duplicates, with certain +variations, of what I feel within me? + +The belief in the reality of matter explains nothing. Supposing it to +exist, if Newton is right, no particle of extraneous matter ever touched +the matter of my body; and therefore it is not just to regard it as +the cause of my sensations. It would amount to no more than two systems +going on at the same time by a preestablished harmony, but totally +independent of and disjointed from each other. + +But the belief in the existence of our fellow-men explains much. It +makes level before us the wonder of the method of their proceedings, and +affords an obvious reason why they should be in so many respects like +our own. If I dismiss from my creed the existence of inert matter, I +lose nothing. The phenomena, the train of antecedents and consequents, +remain as before; and this is all that I am truly concerned with. But +take away the existence of my fellow-men; and you reduce all that is, +and all that I experience, to a senseless mummery. "You take my life, +taking the thing whereon I live." + +Human nature, and the nature of mind, are to us a theme of endless +investigation. "The proper study of mankind is man." All the subtlety +of metaphysics, or (if there be men captious and prejudiced enough +to dislike that term) the science of ourselves, depends upon it. The +science of morals hangs upon the actions of men, and the effects they +produce upon our brother-men, in a narrower or a wider circle. The +endless, and inexpressibly interesting, roll of history relies for its +meaning and its spirit upon the reality and substance of the subjects of +which it treats. Poetry, and all the wonders and endless varieties that +imagination creates, have this for their solution and their soul. + +Sympathy is the only reality of which we are susceptible; it is our +heart of hearts: and, if the world had been "one entire and perfect +chrysolite," without this it would have been no more than one heap of +rubbish. + +Observe the difference between what we know of the material world, and +what of the intellectual. The material goes on for ever according to +certain laws that admit of no discrimination. They proceed upon a first +principle, an impulse given them from the beginning of things. Their +effects are regulated by something that we call their nature: fire +burns; water suffocates; the substances around us that we call solid, +depend for their effects, when put in motion, upon momentum and gravity. + +The principle that regulates the dead universe, "acts by general, not by +partial laws." + + When the loose mountain trembles from on high, + Shall gravitation cease, if you go by? + +No: the chain of antecedents and consequents proceeds in this respect +for ever the same. The laws of what we call the material world continue +unvaried. And, when the vast system of things was first set in motion, +every thing, so far as depends on inert matter, was determined to the +minutest particle, even to the end of time. + +The material world, or that train of antecedents and consequents which +we understand by that term, goes on for ever in a train agreeably to the +impulse previously given. It is deaf and inexorable. It is unmoved by +the consideration of any accidents and miseries that may result, and +unalterable. But man is a source of events of a very different nature. +He looks to results, and is governed by views growing out of the +contemplation of them. He acts in a way diametrically opposite to the +action of inert matter, and "turns, and turns, and turns again," at the +impulse of the thought that strikes him, the appetite that prompts, the +passions that move, and the effects that he anticipates. It is therefore +in a high degree unreasonable, to make that train of inferences which +may satisfy us on the subject of material phenomena, a standard of what +we ought to think respecting the phenomena of mind. + +It is further worthy of our notice to recollect, that the same +reasonings which apply to our brethren of mankind, apply also to the +brute creation. They, like ourselves, act from motives; that is, +the elections they form are adopted by them for the sake of certain +consequences they expect to see result from them. Whatever becomes +therefore of the phenomena of what we call dead matter, we are here +presented with tribes of being, susceptible of pleasure and pain, of +hope and fear, of regard and resentment. + +How beautifully does this conviction vary the scene of things! What +a source to us is the animal creation, of amusement, of curious +observations upon the impulses of inferior intellect, of the exhaustless +varieties of what we call instinct, of the care we can exercise for +their accommodation and welfare, and of the attachment and affection we +win from them in return! If I travel alone through pathless deserts, if +I journey from the rising to the setting sun, with no object around +me but nature's desolation, or the sublime, the magnificent and the +exuberant scenery she occasionally presents, still I have that noble +animal, the horse, and my faithful dog, the companions of my toil, and +with whom, when my solitude would otherwise become insufferable, I can +hold communion, and engage in dumb dialogues of sentiment and affection. + +I have heard of a man, who, talking to his friend on the subject of +these speculations, said, "What then, are you so poor and pusillanimous +a creature, that you could not preserve your serenity, be perfectly +composed and content, and hold on your way unvaried, though you were +convinced that you were the only real being in existence, and all the +rest were mere phantasies and shadows?" + +If I had been the person to whom this speech was addressed, I should +have frankly acknowledged, "I am the poor and pusillanimous creature you +are disposed to regard with so much scorn." + +To adopt the sententious language of the Bible, "It is not good for man +to be alone." All our faculties and attributes bear relation to, and +talk to us of, other beings like ourselves. We might indeed eat, drink +and sleep, that is, submit to those necessities which we so denominate, +without thinking of any thing beyond ourselves; for these are the +demands of our nature, and we know that we cannot subsist without them. +We might make use of the alternate conditions of exercise and repose. + +But the life of our lives would be gone. As far as we bore in mind the +creed we had adopted, of our single existence, we could neither love nor +hate. Sympathy would be a solemn mockery. We could not communicate; for +the being to whom our communication was addressed we were satisfied was +a non-entity. We could not anticipate the pleasure or pain, the joy or +sorrow, of another; for that other had no existence. We should be in +a worse condition than Robinson Crusoe in the desolate island; for he +believed in the existence of other men, and hoped and trusted that he +should one day again enter into human society. We should be in a worse +condition than Robinson Crusoe; for he at least was unannoyed in his +solitude; while we are perpetually and per force intruded on, like a +delirious man, by visions which we know to be unreal, but which we are +denied the power to deliver ourselves from. We have no motive to any of +the great and cardinal functions of human life; for there is no one in +being, that we can benefit, or that we can affect. Study is nothing to +us; for we have no use for it. Even science is unsatisfactory; unless we +can communicate it by word or writing, can converse upon it, and compare +notes with our neighbour. History is nothing; for there were no Greeks +and no Romans; no freemen and no slaves; no kings and no subjects; no +despots, nor victims of their tyranny; no republics, nor states immerged +in brutal and ignominious servitude. Life must be inevitably a burthen +to us, a dreary, unvaried, motiveless existence; and death must be +welcomed, as the most desirable blessing that can visit us. It +is impossible indeed that we should always recollect this our, by +supposition, real situation; but, as often as we did, it would come over +us like a blight, withering all the prospects of our industry, or like +a scirocco, unbracing the nerves of our frame, and consigning us to the +most pitiable depression. + +Thus far I have allowed myself to follow the refinements of those +who profess to deny the existence of the material universe. But it is +satisfactory to come back to that persuasion, which, from whatever cause +it is derived, is incorporated with our very existence, and can never be +shaken off by us. Our senses are too powerful in their operation, for it +to be possible for us to discard them, and to take as their substitute, +in active life, and in the earnestness of pursuit, the deductions of +our logical faculty, however well knit and irresistible we may apprehend +them to be. Speculation and common sense are at war on this point; and +however we may "think with the learned," and follow the abstrusenesses +of the philosopher, in the sequestered hour of our meditation, we must +always act, and even feel, "with the vulgar," when we come abroad into +the world. + +It is however no small gratification to the man of sober mind, that, +from what has here been alleged, it seems to follow, that untutored +mind, and the severest deductions of philosophy, agree in that most +interesting of our concerns, our intercourse with our fellow-creatures. +The inexorable reasoner, refining on the reports of sense, may dispose, +as he pleases, of the chair, the table, and the so called material +substances around him. He may include the whole solid matter of the +universe in a nutshell, or less than a nutshell. But he cannot deprive +me of that greatest of all consolations, the sustaining pillar of +my existence, "the cordial drop Heaven in our cup has thrown,"--the +intercourse of my fellow-creatures. When we read history, the subjects +of which we read are realities; they do not "come like shadows, +so depart;" they loved and acted in sober earnest; they sometimes +perpetrated crimes; but they sometimes also achieved illustrious deeds, +which angels might look down from their exalted abodes and admire. We +are not deluded with mockeries. The woman I love, and the man to whom I +swear eternal friendship, are as much realities as myself. If I relieve +the poor, and assist the progress of genius and virtuous designs +struggling with fearful discouragements, I do something upon the success +of which I may safely congratulate myself. If I devote my energies to +enlighten my fellow-creatures, to detect the weak places in our social +institutions, to plead the cause of liberty, and to invite others +to engage in noble actions and unite in effecting the most solid and +unquestionable improvements, I erect to my name an eternal monument; or +I do something better than this,--secure inestimable advantage to the +latest posterity, the benefit of which they shall enjoy, long after the +very name of the author shall, with a thousand other things great and +small, have been swallowed up in the gulph of insatiable oblivion. + + + + +ESSAY XXIII. OF HUMAN VIRTUE. THE EPILOGUE. + +The life of man is divided into many stages; and we shall not form a +just estimate of our common nature, if we do not to a certain +degree pass its successive periods in review, and observe it in its +commencement, its progress, and its maturity. + +It has been attempted to be established in an early part of the present +volume(82), that all men, idiots and extraordinary cases being put out +of the question, are endowed with talents, which, if rightly directed, +would shew them to be apt, adroit, intelligent and acute, in the walk +for which their organisation especially fitted them. We are bound +therefore, particularly in the morning of life, to consider every +thing that presents itself to us in the human form, with deference and +attention. + + + (82) See above, Essay III. + + +"God," saith the Preacher, "made man upright; but he hath sought out +many inventions." There is something loose and difficult of exposition +in this statement; but we shall find an important truth hid beneath its +obscurity. + +Junius Brutus, in the play, says to his son, + + I like thy frame: the fingers of the Gods + I see have left their mastery upon thee; + And the majestic prints distinct appear. + +Such is the true description of every well-formed and healthful infant +that is born into the world. + +He is placed on the threshold of existence; and an eventful journey is +open before him. For the first four or five years of life indeed he has +little apprehension of the scenes that await him. But a child of quick +apprehension early begins to have day-dreams, and to form imaginations +of the various chances that may occur to him, and the things he shall +have to do, when, according to the language of the story-books, he "goes +out to seek his fortune." + +"God made man upright." Every child that is born, has within him a +concealed magazine of excellence. His heart beats for every thing that +is lovely and good; and whatever is set before him of that sort in +honest colours, rouses his emulation. By how many tokens does he prove +himself worthy of our approbation and love--the unaffected and +ingenuous sobriety with which he listens to what addresses itself to his +attention, the sweetness of his smile, his hearty laugh, the clear, bell +tones of his voice, his sudden and assured impulses, and his bounding +step! + +To his own heart he promises well of himself. Like Lear in the play, he +says, "I will do such things!--What they are, yet I know not." But he is +assured, frank and light-spirited. He thinks of no disguise. He "wears +his heart upon his sleeve." He looks in the face of his seniors with +the glistening eye of confidence, and expects to encounter sympathy and +encouragement in return. Such is man, as he comes from the hands of his +maker. + +Thus prepared, he is turned into the great field of society. Here he +meets with much that he had not anticipated, and with many rebuffs. He +is taught that he must accommodate his temper and proceedings to the +expectations and prejudices of those around him. He must be careful to +give no offence. With how many lessons, not always the most salutary and +ingenuous, is this maxim pregnant! It calls on the neophyte to bear +a wary eye, and to watch the first indications of disapprobation and +displeasure in those among whom his lot is cast. It teaches him to +suppress the genuine emotions of his soul. It informs him that he is not +always to yield to his own impulses, but that he must "stretch forth his +hands to another, and be carried whither he would not." + +It recommends to him falseness, and to be the thing in outward +appearance that he is not in his heart. + +Still however he goes on. He shuts up his thoughts in his bosom; but +they are not exterminated. On the contrary he broods over them with +genial warmth; and the less they are exposed to the eye of day, the +more perseveringly are they cherished. Perhaps he chooses some youthful +confident of his imaginings: and the effect of this is, that he pours +out his soul with uncontrolable copiousness, and with the fervour of a +new and unchecked conceiving. It is received with answering warmth; or, +if there is any deficiency in the sympathy of his companion, his mind is +so earnest and full, that he does not perceive it. By and by, it may be, +he finds that the discovery he had made of a friend, a brother of +his soul, is, like so many of the visions of this world, hollow and +fallacious. He grasped, as he thought, a jewel of the first water; and +it turns out to be a vulgar pebble. No matter: he has gained something +by the communication. He has heard from his own lips the imaginings +of his mind shaped into articulate air; they grew more definite and +distinct as he uttered them; they came by the very act to have more of +reality, to be more tangible. He shakes off the ill-assorted companion +that only encumbered him, and springs away in his race, more light of +heart, and with a step more assured, than ever. + +By and by he becomes a young man. And, whatever checks he may have +received before, it usually happens that all his hopes and projects +return to him now with recruited strength. He has no longer a master. He +no longer crouches to the yoke of subjection, and is directed this way +and that at the judgment of another. Liberty is at all times dear to the +free-soured and ingenuous; but never so much so, as when we wear it in +its full gloss and newness. He never felt before, that he was sui juris, +that he might go whithersoever he would, without asking leave, without +consulting any other director than the law of his own mind. It is nearly +at the same season that he arrives at the period of puberty, at the +stature, and in a certain degree at the strength, which he is destined +to attain. He is by general consent admitted to be at years of +discretion. + +Though I have put all these things together, they do not, in the course +of nature, all come at the same time. It is a memorable period, when the +ingenuous youth is transferred from the trammels of the schoolmaster +to the residence of a college. It was at the age of seventeen that, +according to the custom of Rome, the youthful citizen put on the manly +gown, and was introduced into the forum. Even in college-life, there is +a difference in the privileges of the mere freshman, and of the +youth who has already completed the first half of his period in the +university. + +The season of what may be denominated the independence of the +individual, is certainly in no small degree critical. A human being, +suddenly emancipated from a state of subjection, if we may not call it +slavery, and transported into a state of freedom, must be expected to be +guilty of some extravagancies and follies. + +But upon the whole, with a small number of exceptions, it is creditable +to human nature, that we take this period of our new powers and +immunities with so much sobriety as we do. + +The young man then, calls to mind all that he imagined at an earlier +season, and that he promised himself. He adds to this the new lights +that he has since obtained, and the nearer and more distinct view that +he has reached, of the realities of life. + +He recollects the long noviciate that he served to reach this period, +the twenty years that he passed in ardent and palpitating expectation; +and he resolves to do something worthy of all he had vowed and had +imagined. He takes a full survey of his stores and endowments; and to +the latter, from his enthusiasm and his self-love, he is morally sure +to do justice. He says to himself, "What I purpose to do will not be +achieved to-day. No; it shall be copious, and worthy of men's suffrage +and approbation. But I will meditate it; I will sketch a grand outline; +I will essay my powers in secret, and ascertain what I may be able +to effect." The youth, whose morning of life is not utterly abortive, +palpitates with the desire to promote the happiness of others, and with +the desire of glory. + +We have an apt specimen of this in the first period of the reign of +Nero. The historians, Tacitus in particular, have treated this with too +much incredulity. It was the passion of that eminent man to indulge in +subtleties, and to find hidden meanings in cases where in reality every +thing is plain. We must not regard the panegyric of Seneca, and +the devotion of Lucan to the imperial stripling, as unworthy of +our attention. He was declared emperor before he had completed +the eighteenth year of his age. No occasion for the exhibition of +liberality, clemency, courtesy or kindness escaped him. He called every +one by his name, and saluted all orders of men. When the senate shewed +a disposition to confer on him peculiar honours, he interposed, he said, +"Let them be bestowed when I have deserved them(83)." Seneca affirms, +that in the first part of his reign, and to the time in which the +philosopher dedicated to him his treatise of Clemency, he had "shed no +drop of blood(84)." He adds, "If the Gods were this day to call thee +to a hearing, thou couldst account to them for every man that had been +intrusted to thy rule. Not an individual has been lost from the number, +either by secret practices, or by open violence. This could scarcely +have been, if thy good dispositions had not been natural, but assumed. +No one can long personate a character. A pretended goodness will +speedily give place to the real temper; while a sincere mind, and +acts prompted by the heart, will not fail to go on from one stage of +excellence to another(85)." + + + (83) Suetonius, Nero, cap. 10. + + + (84) De Clementia, Lib. I, cap. II. + + + (85) De Clementia, cap. I. + + +The philosopher expresses himself in raptures on that celebrated phrase +of Nero, WOULD I HAD NEVER LEARNED TO WRITE! "An exclamation," he says, +"not studied, not uttered for the purpose of courting popularity, but +bursting insuppressibly from thy lips, and indicating the vehemence of +the struggle between the kindness of thy disposition and the duties of +thy office(86)." + + + (86) Ibid., Lib. II, cap. I. + +How many generous purposes, what bright and heart-thrilling visions of +beneficence and honour, does the young man, just starting in the race +of life, conceive! There is no one in that period of existence, who has +received a reasonable education, and has not in his very nonage been +trod down in the mire of poverty and oppression, that does not say +to himself, "Now is the time; and I will do something worthy to be +remembered by myself and by others." Youth is the season of generosity. +He calls over the catalogue of his endowments, his attainments, and +his powers, and exclaims, "To that which I am, my contemporaries are +welcome; it shall all be expended for their service and advantage." + +With what disdain he looks at the temptations of selfishness, effeminate +indulgence, and sordid gain! He feels within himself that he was born +for better things. His elders, and those who have already been tamed +down and emasculated by the corrupt commerce of the world, tell him, +"All this is the rhapsody of youth, fostered by inexperience; you will +soon learn to know better; in no long time you will see these things +in the same light in which we see them." But he despises the sinister +prognostic that is held out to him, and feels proudly conscious that the +sentiments that now live in his bosom, will continue to animate him to +his latest breath. + +Youth is necessarily ingenuous in its thoughts, and sanguine in its +anticipations of the future. But the predictions of the seniors I have +quoted, are unfortunately in too many cases fulfilled. The outline of +the scheme of civil society is in a high degree hostile to the growth +and maturity of human virtue. Its unavoidable operation, except in those +rare cases where positive institutions have arrested its tendency, has +been to divide a great portion of its members, especially in large and +powerful states, into those who are plentifully supplied with the means +of luxury and indulgence, and those who are condemned to suffer the +rigours of indigence. + +The young man who is born to the prospect of hereditary wealth, will +not unfrequently feel as generous emotions, and as much of the spirit of +self-denial, as the bosom of man is capable of conceiving. He will say, +What am I, that I should have a monopoly of those things, which, if +"well dispensed, in unsuperfluous, even proportion," would supply the +wants of all? He is ready, agreeably to the advice of Christ to the +young man in the Gospel, to "sell all that he has, and give to the +poor," if he could be shewn how so generous a resolution on his part +could be encountered with an extensive conspiracy of the well-disposed, +and rendered available to the real melioration of the state of man in +society. Who is there so ignorant, or that has lived in so barren and +unconceiving a tract of the soil of earth, that has not his tale to +tell of the sublime emotions and the generous purposes he has witnessed, +which so often mark this beautiful era of our sublunary existence? + +But this is in the dawn of life, and the first innocence of the human +heart. When once the young man of "great possessions" has entered the +gardens of Alcina, when he has drunk of the cup of her enchantments, and +seen all the delusive honour and consideration that, in the corruptness +of modern times, are the lot of him who is the owner of considerable +wealth, the dreams of sublime virtue are too apt to fade away. He was +willing before, to be nourished with the simplest diet, and clad with +the plainest attire. He knew that he was but a man like the rest of +his species, and was in equity entitled to no more than they. But he +presently learns a very different lesson. He believes that he cannot +live without splendour and luxury; he regards a noble mansion, elegant +vesture, horses, equipage, and an ample establishment, as things without +which he must be hopelessly miserable. That income, which he once +thought, if divided, would have secured the happiness and independence +of many, he now finds scarcely sufficient to supply his increased and +artificial cravings. + +But, if the rich are seduced and led away from the inspirations of +virtue, it may easily be conceived how much more injurious, and beyond +the power of control, are the effects on the poor. The mysterious source +from which the talents of men are derived, cannot be supposed in their +distribution to be regulated by the artificial laws of society, and +to have one measure for those which are bestowed upon the opulent, and +another for the destitute. It will therefore not seldom happen that +powers susceptible of the noblest uses may be cast, like "seed sown upon +stony places," where they have scarcely any chance to be unfolded and +matured. In a few instances they may attract the attention of +persons both able and willing to contribute to their being brought to +perfection. In a few instances the principle may be so vigorous, and +the tendency to excel so decisive, as to bid defiance to and to conquer +every obstacle. But in a vast majority the promise will be made vain, +and the hopes that might have been entertained will prove frustrate. +What can be expected from the buds of the most auspicious infancy, if +encountered in their earliest stage with the rigorous blasts of a polar +climate? + +And not only will the germs of excellence be likely to be extinguished +in the members of the lower class of the community, but the temptations +to irregular acts and incroachments upon the laws for the security of +property will often be so great, as to be in a manner irresistible. The +man who perceives that, with all his industry, he cannot provide for +the bare subsistence of himself and those dependent upon him, while +his neighbour revels in boundless profusion, cannot but sometimes feel +himself goaded to an attempt to correct this crying evil. What must +be expected to become of that general good-will which is the natural +inheritance of a well-constituted mind, when urged by so bitter +oppression and such unendurable sufferings? The whole temper of the +human heart must be spoiled, and the wine of life acquire a quality +acrimonious and malignant. + +But it is not only in the extreme classes of society that the glaring +inequality with which property is shared produces its injurious effects. +All those who are born in the intermediate ranks are urged with a +distempered ambition, unfavourable to independence of temper, and +to true philanthropy. Each man aspires to the improvement of his +circumstances, and the mounting, by one step and another, higher in +the scale of the community. The contemplations of the mind are turned +towards selfishness. In opulent communities we are presented with the +genuine theatre for courts and kings. And, wherever there are courts, +duplicity, lying, hypocrisy and cringing dwell as in their proper field. +Next come trades and professions, with all the ignoble contemplations, +the resolved smoothness, servility and falshood, by which they are +enabled to gain a prosperous and triumphant career. + +It is by such means, that man, whom "God made upright," is led away +into a thousand devious paths, and, long before the closing scene of his +life, is rendered something the very reverse of what in the dawning of +existence he promised to be. He is like Hazael in the Jewish history, +who, when the prophet set before him the crying enormities he should +hereafter perpetrate, exclaimed, "Is thy servant a dog," that he should +degrade himself so vilely? He feels the purity of his purposes; but is +goaded by one excitement and exasperation after another, till he becomes +debased, worthless and criminal. This is strikingly illustrated in +the story of Dr. Johnson and the celebrated Windham, who, when he was +setting out as secretary to the lord lieutenant of Ireland, expressed to +his aged monitor, some doubts whether he could ever reconcile himself +to certain indirect proceedings which he was afraid would be expected +of him: to which the veteran replied, "Oh, sir, be under no alarm; in a +short time, depend upon it, you will make a very pretty rascal(87)." + + + (87) The phrase here used by Johnson is marked with the licentiousness +we sometimes indulge in familiar conversation. Translate it into a +general maxim; and it contains much melancholy truth. It is true also, +that there are few individuals, who, in the urgent realities of +life, have not occasionally descended from the heights of theoretical +excellence. It is but just however to observe in the case of Windham, +that, though he was a man of many errors, he was not the less +characterised by high honour and eminent virtue. + + +Such are the "inventions of man," or rather such is the operation of +those institutions which ordinarily prevail in society. Still, however, +much honour ought to be rendered to our common nature, since all of us +are not led away by the potent spells of the enchantress. If the vulgar +crew of the vessel of Ulysses were by Circe changed into brutes, so was +not their commander. The human species is divided into two classes, the +successfully tempted, and the tempted in vain. And, though the latter +must be admitted to be a small minority, yet they ought to be regarded +as the "salt of the earth," which preserves the entire mass from +putridity and dishonour. They are like the remnant, which, if they had +been to be found in the cities of the Asphaltic lake, the God of Abraham +pronounced as worthy to redeem the whole community. They are like the +two witnesses amidst the general apostasy, spoken of in the book of +Revelations, who were the harbingers and forerunners of the millenium, +the reign of universal virtue and peace. Their excellence only appears +with the greater lustre amidst the general defection. + +Nothing can be more unjust than the spirit of general levelling and +satire, which so customarily prevails. History records, if you will, the +vices and follies of mankind. But does it record nothing else? Are +the virtues of the best men, the noblest philosophers, and the most +disinterested patriots of antiquity, nothing? It is impossible for two +things to be more unlike than the general profligacy of the reigns of +Charles the Second and Louis the Fifteenth on the one hand, and the +austere virtues and the extinction of all private considerations in the +general happiness and honour, which constitute the spirit of the best +pages of ancient history, and which exalt and transfix the spirit of +every ingenuous and high-souled reader, on the other. + +Let us then pay to human virtue the honour that is so justly its due! +Imagination is indeed a marvellous power; but imagination never equalled +history, the achievements which man has actually performed. It is in +vain that the man of contemplation sits down in his closet; it is in +vain that the poet yields the reins to enthusiasm and fancy: there is +something in the realities of life, that excites the mind infinitely +more, than is in the power of the most exalted reverie. The true hero +cannot, like the poet, or the delineator of fictitious adventures, put +off what he has to do till to-morrow. The occasion calls, and he must +obey. He sees the obstacles, and the adversary he has to encounter, +before him. He sees the individuals, for whose dear sake he resolves to +expose himself to every hazard and every evil. The very circumstance, +that he is called on to act in the face of the public, animates him. +It is thus that resolution is produced, that martyrdom is voluntarily +encountered, and that the deeds of genuine, pure and undeniable heroism +are performed. + +Let then no man, in the supercilious spirit of a fancied disdain, allow +himself to detract from our common nature. We are ourselves the models +of all the excellence that the human mind can conceive. There have been +men, whose virtues may well redeem all the contempt with which satire +and detraction have sought to overwhelm our species. There have been +memorable periods in the history of man, when the best, the most +generous and exalted sentiments have swallowed up and obliterated all +that was of an opposite character. And it is but just, that those by +whom these things are fairly considered, should anticipate the progress +of our nature, and believe that human understanding and human virtue +will hereafter accomplish such things as the heart of man has never yet +been daring enough to conceive. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Thoughts on Man, by William Godwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS ON MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 743.txt or 743.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/4/743/ + +Produced by Charles Keller + +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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