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Shaftesbury, Mandeville, and Smith on Liberty, Virtue, and Prosperity

In this discussion we would like to compare Smith’s views on liberty, virtue, and prosperity with those of the Earl of Shaftesbury and Bernard Mandeville. All three thinkers appear to support the idea that the pursuit of private advantage does not contradict the public good, yet they do disagree about the question of virtue, the relation of wealth or prosperity to human well being, the place and effects of open markets in civil society, and the role of virtue in economics and politics. This discussion will explore the areas of agreement and disagreement in the thought of these important thinkers.

There is no reading set for the final 6th session.

See the online collection of the illustrations Shaftesbury did for his book.

For further reading see other sections of this website:

• Adam Smith (1723-1790)
• The Earl of Shaftesbury (1671-1713)
• Bernard Mandeville (1670-1733)
• Timeline of the Life and Work of Adam Smth

[The image of Smith comes from “The Warren J. Samuels Portrait Collection at Duke University.”]

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  1: Session I: The Earl of Shaftesbury on Virtue

  

  The Inquiry Concerning Virtue is Shaftesbury’s most famous piece and in it he develops an optimistic account of how, if left to their own devices, people do seem to organize themselves in optimal ways, a sort of “spontaneous” moral order, if you will, does emerge under liberty. Read Book I, Parts 1 and 2; Book II, Part 1, Sections 1 and 2; and Book II, Part 2, Sections 2 and 3 and the Conclusion.

  Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury, Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times, ed. Douglas den Uyl (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 2001). 3 vols. Vol. 2. Chapter: AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTURE AND MERIT

  Accessed from oll.libertyfund.org/title/812/194942 on 2008-11-14

  The copyright to this edition, in both print and electronic forms, is held by Liberty Fund, Inc.

  ---

  

  TREATISE IV

  VIZ.

  AN INQUIRY

  CONCERNING

  Virtue, or Merit.

  Formerly Printed from an Imperfect Copy:

  Now Corrected, and Publish’d intire.

  The jest set aside, let us inquire

  about serious matters.* Hor. Sat. I.

  Printed first in the Year M.DC.XC.IX.

  AN INQUIRY, &c.

  Book 1

  PART I

  Sect. 1.SECTION I

  Occasion of this INQUIRY.RELIGION and VIRTUE appear in many respects so nearly related, that they are generally presum’d inseparable Companions. And so willing we are to[6] believe well of their Union, that we hardly allow it just to speak, or even think of ’em apart. It may however be question’d, whether the Practice of the World, in this respect, be answerable to our Speculation. ’Tis certain that we sometimes meet with Instances which seem to make against this general Supposition. We have known People, who having the Appearance of great Zeal in Religion, have yet wanted even the common Affections of Humanity, and shewn themselves extremely degenerate and corrupt. Others, again, who have paid little regard to Religion, and been consider’d as mere Atheists, have yet been observ’d to practice the Rules of Morality, and act in many Cases with such good Meaning and Affection towards Mankind, as might seem to force an Acknowledgment of their being virtuous. And, in general, we find mere moral Principles of such weight, that in our dealings with Men, we are seldom satisfy’d by the fullest Assurance given us of their Zeal in Religion, till we hear something further of their Character. If we are told, a Man is religious; we still ask, “What are his Morals?” But if we hear at first that he has honest moral Principles, and is a Man of natural Justice and good Temper, we seldom think of the other Question, “Whether he be religious and devout?”[7]

  This has given occasion to enquire, “What Honesty or Virtue is, consider’d by it-self; and in what manner it is influenc’d by Religion: How far Religion necessarily implies Virtue; and whether it be a true Saying, That it is impossible for an Atheist to be virtuous, or share any real degree of Honesty, orMerit.”

  And here it cannot justly be wonder’d at, if the Method of explaining Things shou’d appear somewhat unusual; since the Subject-Matter has been so little examin’d, and is of so nice and dangerous Speculation. For so much is the religious part of Mankind alarm’d by the Freedom of some late Pens; and so great a Jealousy is rais’d every-where on this Account; that whatever an Author may suggest in favour of Religion, he will gain little Credit in the Cause, if he allows the least Advantage to any other Principle. On the other side, the Men of Wit and Raillery, whose pleasantest Entertainment is in the exposing the weak sides of Religion, are so desperately afraid of being drawn into any serious Thoughts of it, that they look upon a Man as guilty of foul Play, who assumes the air of a Free Writer, and at the same time preserves any regard for the Principles of Natural Re[8]ligion. They are apt to give as little quarter as they receive: And are resolv’d to think as ill of the Morals of their Antagonists, as their Antagonists can possibly think of theirs. Neither of ’em, it seems, will allow the least Advantage to the other. ’Tis as hard to persuade one sort, that there is any Virtue in Religion, as the other, that there is any Virtue out of the Verge of their particular Community. So that, between both, an Author must past his time ill, who dares plead for Religion and Moral Virtue, without lessening the force of either; but allowing to each its proper Province, and due Rank, wou’d hinder their being made Enemys by Detraction.

  However it be: If we wou’d pretend to give the least new light, or explain any thing effectually, within the intended Compass of this Inquiry; ’tis necessary to take Things pretty deep; and endeavour, by some short Scheme, to represent the Original of each Opinion, whether natural or unnatural, relating to the Deity. And if we can happily get clear of this thorny part of our Philosophy; the rest, ’tis hop’d, may prove more plain and easy.[9]

  Sect. 2.SECTION II

  State of Opinions.IN the Whole of Things (or in the Universe) either all is according to a good Order, and the most agreeable to a general Interest: or there is that which is otherwise, and might possibly have been better constituted, more wisely contriv’d, and with more advantage to the general Interest of Beings, or of the Whole.

  If every thing which exists be according to a good Order, and for the best; then of necessity there is no such thing as real ILL in the Universe, nothing ILL with respect to the Whole.

  Whatsoever, then, is so as that it cou’d not really have been better, or any way better order’d, is perfectly good. Whatsoever in the Order of the World can be call’d ILL, must imply a possibility in the nature of the thing to have been better contriv’d, or order’d. For if it cou’d not; it is perfect, and as it shou’d be.

  Whatsoever is really ILL, therefore, must be caus’d or produc’d, either by Design, (that is to say, with Knowledg and Intelligence) or, in defect of this, by Hazard, and mere Chance.[10]

  If there be any thing ILL in the Universe from Design, then that which disposes all things, is no one good designing Principle. For either the one designing Principle is it-self corrupt; or there is some other in being which operates contrarily, and is ILL.

  If there be any ILL in the Universe from mere Chance; then a designing Principle or Mind, whether Good or Bad, cannot be the Cause of all things. And consequently, if there be suppos’d a designing Principle, who is the Cause only of Good, but cannot prevent the Ill which happens from Chance, or from a contrary ill Design; then there can be suppos’d in reality no such thing as a superior good Design or Mind, other than what is impotent and defective: For not to correct, or totally exclude that Ill of Chance, or of a contrary ill Design, must proceed either from Impotency, or Ill-Will.

  Whatsoever is superior in any degree over the World, or rules in Nature with Discernment and a Mind, is what, by universal Agreement, Men call God. If there are several such superior Minds, they are so many Gods: But if that single, or those several Superiors are not[11] in their nature necessarily good, they rather take the name of Daemon.

  To believe therefore that every thing is govern’d, order’d, or regulated for the best, by a designing Principle, or Mind, necessarily good and permanent, is to be a perfect Theist.

  To believe nothing of a designing Principle or Mind, nor any Cause, Measure, or Rule of Things, but Chance; so that in Nature neither the Interest of the Whole, nor of any Particulars, can be said to be in the least design’d, pursu’d, or aim’d at; is to be a perfect Atheist.

  To believe no one supreme designing Principle or Mind, but rather two, three, or more, (tho in their nature good) is to be a Polytheist.

  To believe the governing Mind, or Minds, not absolutely and necessarily good, nor confin’d to what is best, but capable of acting according to mere Will or Fancy; is to be a Daemonist.

  There are few who think always consistently, or according to one certain Hypothesis, upon any Subject so abstruse and intricate as the Cause of all Things, and the OEconomy or Government of the Uni[12]verse. For ’tis evident in the Case of the most devout People, even by their own Confession, that there are Times when their Faith hardly can support ’em in the Belief of a supreme Wisdom; and that they are often tempted to judg disadvantageously of a Providence, and just Administration in the Whole.

  That alone, therefore, is to be call’d a Man’s Opinion, which is of any other the most habitual to him, and occurs upon most occasions. So that ’tis hard to pronounce certainly of any Man, that he is an Atheist; because unless his whole Thoughts are at all Seasons, and on all Occasions, steddily bent against all Supposition or Imagination of Design in Things, he is no perfectAtheist. In the same manner, if a Man’s Thoughts are not at all times steddy and resolute against all Imagination of Chance, Fortune, or ill Design in Things, he is no perfectTheist. But if anyone believes more of Chance and Confusion than of Design; he is to be esteem’d more anAtheist than a Theist, from that which most predominates, or has the ascendent. And in case he believes more of the Prevalency of an ill-designing Principle, than of a good one, he is rather a Daemonist; and may be justly so call’d, from the Side to which the Balance of his Judgment most inclines.[13]

  All these sorts both of Daemonism, Polytheism, Atheism, and Theism, may be * mix’d. Religion excludes only perfect Atheism. Perfect Daemonists undoubtedly there are in Religion; because we know whole Nations who worship a Devil or Fiend, to whom they sacrifice and offer Prayers and Supplications, in reality on no other account than because they fear him. And we know very well that, in some Religions, there are those who expresly give no other Idea of God, than[14] of a Being arbitrary, violent, causing Ill, and ordaining to Misery; which in effect is the same as to substitute a Daemon, or Devil, in his room.

  Now since there are these several Opinions concerning a superior Power; and since there may be found perhaps some Persons, who have no form’d Opinion at all upon this Subject; either thro’ Scepticism, Negligence of Thought, or Confusion of Judgment: the Consideration is, how any of these Opinions, or this want of any certain Opinion, may possibly consist with Virtue and Merit; or be compatible with an honest or moral Character.

  PART II

  Sect. 1.SECTION I

  A Constitution.WHEN we reflect on any ordinary Frame or Constitution either of Art or Nature; and consider how hard it is to give the least account of a particular Part, without a[15] competent Knowledg of the Whole:Whole and Parts. we need not wonder to find our-selves at a loss in many things relating to the Constitution and Frame of Nature her-self. For to what End in Nature many things, even whole Species of Creatures, refer; or to what purpose they serve; will be hard for any-one justly to determine: But to what End the many Proportions and various Shapes of Parts in many Creatures actually serve; we are able, by the help of Study and Observation, to demonstrate, with great exactness.

  We know that every Creature has a private Good and Interest of his own; which Nature has compel’d him to seek, by all the Advantages afforded him, within the compass of his Make. We know that there is in reality a right and a wrong State of every Creature; and that his right-one is by Nature forwarded, and by himself affectionately sought. There being therefore in every Creature a certain Interest or Good;Interest or End in Creatures. there must be also a certain End, to which every thing in his Constitution must naturally refer. To this End, if any thing, either in his Appetites, Passions, or Affections, be not conducing, but the contrary; we must of necessity own it ill to him. And in this manner he is ill, with respect to himself; as he certainly is, with respect to others[16]of his kind, when any such Appetites or Passions make him any-way injurious to them.Interest of the Species. Now, if by the natural Constitution of any rational Creature, the same Irregularitys of Appetite which make him ill to Others, make him ill also to Him-self; and if the same Regularity of Affections, which causes him to be good in one sense, causes him to be good also in the other;Goodness. then is that Goodness by which he is thus useful to others, a real Good and Advantage to himself. And thus Virtue and Interest may be found at last to agree.

  Of this we shall consider particularly in the latter part of our Inquiry. Our first Design is, to see if we can clearly determine what that Quality is to which we give the Name of Goodness, or Virtue.

  Private Good.Shou’d a Historian or Traveller describe to us a certain Creature of a more solitary Disposition than ever was yet heard of; one who had neither Mate nor Fellow of any kind; nothing of his own Likeness, towards which he stood well-affected or inclin’d; nor any thing without, or beyond himself, for which he had the least Passion or Concern: we might be apt to say perhaps, without much hesitation, “That this was doubtless a very melancholy Creature, and that in this[17] unsociable and sullen State he was like to have a very disconsolate kind of Life.” But if we were assur’d, that notwithstanding all Appearances, the Creature enjoy’d himself extremely, had a great relish of Life, and was in nothing wanting to his own Good; we might acknowledg perhaps, “That the Creature was no Monster, nor absurdly constituted as to himself.”Private SYSTEM. But we shou’d hardly, after all, be induc’d to say of him, “That he was a good Creature.” However, shou’d it be urg’d against us, “That such as he was, the Creature was still perfect in himself, and therefore to be esteem’d good: For what had he to do with others?” In this sense, indeed, we might be forc’d to acknowledg, “That he was a good Creature; if he cou’d be understood to be absolute and compleat in himself; without any real relation to any thing in the Universe besides.” For shou’d there be any where in Nature a System,System of the Species. of which this living Creature was to be consider’d as a Part; then cou’d he no-wise be allow’d good; whilst he plainly appear’d to be such a Part, as made rather to the harm than good of that System or Whole in which he was included.

  If therefore in the Structure of this or any other Animal, there be any thing[18] which points beyond himself, and by which he is plainly discover’d to have relation to some other Being or Nature besides his own; then will this Animal undoubtedly be esteem’d a Part of some other System. For instance, if an Animal has the Proportions of a Male, it shews he has relation to a Female. And the respective Proportions both of the Male and Female will be allow’d, doubtless, to have a joint-relation to another Existence and Order of things beyond themselves. So that the Creatures are both of ’em to be consider’d as Parts of another System: which is that of a particular Race or Species of living Creatures, who have some one common Nature, or are provided for, by some one Order or Constitution of things subsisting together, and co-operating towards their Conservation, and Support.

  Animal System.In the same manner, if a whole Species of Animals contribute to the Existence or Well-being of some other; then is that whole Species, in general, a Part only of some other System.

  For instance; To the Existence of the Spider, that of the Fly is absolutely necessary. The heedless Flight, weak Frame, and tender Body of this latter Insect, fit and determine him as much a Prey, as the rough Make, Watchfulness, and Cunning[19] of the former, fit him for Rapine, and the ensnaring part. The Web and Wing are suted to each other. And in the Structure of each of these Animals, there is as apparent and perfect a relation to the other, as in our own Bodys there is a relation of Limbs and Organs; or, as in the Branches or Leaves of a Tree, we see a relation of each to the other, and all, in common, to one Root and Trunk.

  In the same manner are Flies also necessary to the Existence of other Creatures, both Fowls and Fish. And thus are other Species or Kinds subservient to one another; as being Parts of a certain System, and included in one and the same Order of Beings.

  So that there is a System of all Animals; an Animal-Order or OEconomy, according to which the animal Affairs are regulated and dispos’d.

  System of the Earth.Now, if the whole System of Animals, together with that of Vegetables, and all other things in this inferior World, be properly comprehended in one System of a Globe or Earth: And if, again, this Globe or Earth it-self appears to have a real Dependence on something still beyond; as, for example, either on its Sun, the Galaxy, or its Fellow-Planets;Planetary System. then is it in[20] reality a Part only of some other System. And if it be allow’d, that there is in like manner a Systemof all Things, and a Universal Nature;Universal System. there can be no particular Being or System which is not either good or ill in that general one of the Universe: For if it be insignificant and of no use, it is a Fault or Imperfection, and consequently ill in the general System.

  Therefore if any Being be wholly and reallyIll, it must be ill with respect to the Universal System; and then the System of the Universe is ill, or imperfect. But if the Ill of one private System be the Good of others; if it makes still to the Good of the general System, (as when one Creature lives by the Destruction of another; one thing is generated from the Corruption of another; or one planetary System or Vortex may swallow up another) then is the Ill of that private System no real Ill in it-self; any more than the pain of breeding Teeth is ill, in a System or Body which is so constituted, that without this occasion of Pain, it wou’d suffer worse, by being defective.

  So that we cannot say of any Being, that it is wholly and absolutely ill,Absolute ILL. unless we can positively shew and ascertain, that what we call Ill is no where Good besides, in any other System, or with re[21]spect to any other Order or OEconomy whatsoever.

  Relative ILL.But were there in the World any intire Species of Animals destructive to every other, it may be justly call’d an ill Species; as being ill in the Animal-System. And if in any Species of Animals (as in Men, for example) one Man is of a nature pernicious to the rest, he is in this respect justly styl’d an ill Man.

  Good and ill Man.We do not however say of any-one, that he is an ill Man because he has the Plague-Spots upon him, or because he has convulsive Fits which make him strike and wound such as approach him. Nor do we say on the other side, that he is a good Man, when having his Hands ty’d up, he is hinder’d from doing the Mischief he designs; or (which is in a manner the same) when he abstains from executing his ill purpose, thro’ a fear of some impending Punishment, or thro’ the allurement of some exterior Reward.

  Goodness thro’ Affection.So that in a sensible Creature, that which is not done thro’ any Affection at all, makes neither Good nor Ill in the nature of that Creature; who then only is suppos’d Good, when the Good or Ill of the System to which he has relation, is the immediate Object of some Passion or Affection moving him.[22]

  Since it is therefore by Affection merely that a Creature is esteem’d good or ill, natural or unnatural; our business will be, to examine which are the good and natural, and which the ill and unnatural Affections.

  Sect. 2.SECTION II

  Private or Self-Affection.IN the first place then, it may be observ’d, that if there be an Affection towards any Subject consider’d as private Good, which is * not really such, but imaginary; this Affection, as being superfluous, and detracting from the Force of other requisite and good Affections, is in it-self vitious and ill, even in respect of the private Interest or Happiness of the Creature.

  If there can possibly be suppos’d in a Creature such an Affection towards Self-Good, as is actually, in its natural degree, conducing to his private Interest, and at the same time inconsistent with the publick Good; this may indeed be call’d still a vitious Affection: And on this Supposition a Creature *cannot really be good and natural in respect of his Society or Publick, without being ill and unnatural toward himself. But if the Affection be[23] then only injurious to the Society, when it is immoderate, and not so when it is moderate, duly temper’d, and allay’d; then is the immoderate degree of the Affection truly vitious, but not the moderate. And thus, if there be found in any Creature a more than ordinary Self-concernment, or Regard to private Good, which is inconsistent with the Interest of the Species or Publick; this must in every respect be esteem’d an ill and vitious Affection. And this is what we commonly call †Selfishness, and disapprove so much, in whatever Creature we happen to discover it.

  On the other side, if the Affection towards private or Self-good, however selfish it may be esteem’d, is in reality not only consistent with publick Good, but in some measure contributing to it; if it be such, perhaps, as for the good of the Species in general, every Individual ought to share; ’tis so far from being ill, or blameable in any sense, that it must be acknowledg’d absolutely necessary to constitute a Creature Good. For if the want of such an Affection as that towards Self-preservation, be injurious to the Species; a Creature is ill and unnatural as well thro’ this Defect, as thro’ the want of any other natural Affection. And this no-one wou’d[24] doubt to pronounce, if he saw a Man who minded not any Precipices which lay in his way, nor made any distinction of Food, Diet, Clothing, or whatever else related to his Health and Being. The same wou’d be aver’d of one who had a Disposition which render’d him averse to any Commerce with Womankind, and of consequence unfitted him thro’ Illness of Temper (and not merely thro’ a Defect of Constitution) for the propagation of his Species or Kind.

  Thus the Affection towards Self-good, may be a good Affection, or an ill-one. For if this private Affection be too strong, (as when the excessive Love of Life unfits a Creature for any generous Act) then is it undoubtedly vitious; and if vitious, the Creature who is mov’d by it, is vitiously mov’d, and can never be otherwise than vitious in some degree, when mov’d by that Affection. Therefore if thro’ such an earnest and passionate Love of Life, a Creature be accidentally induc’d to do Good, (as he might be upon the same terms induc’d to do Ill) he is no more a good Creature for this Good he executes, than a Man is the more an honest or good Man either for pleading a just Cause, or fighting in a good one, for the sake merely of his Fee or Stipend.[25]

  Whatsoever therefore is done which happens to be advantageous to the Species, thro’ an Affection merely towards Self-good, does not imply any more Goodness in the Creature than as the Affection it-self is good. Let him, in any particular, act ever so well; if at the bottom, it be that selfish Affection alone which moves him; he is in himself still vitious. Nor can any Creature be consider’d otherwise, when the Passion towards Self-good, tho ever so moderate, is his real Motive in the doing that, to which a natural Affection for his Kind ought by right to have inclin’d him.

  Temper.And indeed whatever exterior Helps or Succours an ill-dispos’d Creature may find, to push him on towards the performance of any one good Action; there can no Goodness arise in him, till his Temper be so far chang’d, that in the issue he comes in earnest to be led by some immediate Affection, directly, and not accidentally, to Good, and against Ill.

  For instance; if one of those Creatures suppos’d to be by Nature tame, gentle, and favourable to Mankind, be, contrary to his natural Constitution, fierce and savage; we instantly remark the Breach of Temper, and own the Creature to be unnatural and corrupt. If at any time after[26]wards, the same Creature, by good Fortune or right Management, comes to lose his Fierceness, and is made tame, gentle, and treatable, like other Creatures of his Kind; ’tis acknowledg’d that the Creature thus restor’d becomes good and natural. Suppose, now, that the Creature has indeed a tame and gentle Carriage; but that it proceeds only from the fear of his Keeper; which if set aside, his predominant Passion instantly breaks out: then is his Gentleness not his real Temper; but, his true and genuine Nature or natural Temper remaining just as it was, the Creature is still as ill as ever.

  Nothing therefore being properly either Goodness or Illness in a Creature, except what is from natural Temper; “A good Creature is such a one as by the natural Temper or Bent of his Affections is carry’d primarily and immediately, and not secondarily and accidentally, to Good, and against Ill”: And an ill Creature is just the contrary; viz. “One who is wanting in right Affections, of force enough to carry him directly towards Good, and bear him out against Ill; or who is carry’d by other Affections directly to Ill, and against Good.”

  When in general, all the Affections or Passions are suted to the publick Good, or[27] good of the Species, as above-mention’d; then is the natural Temper intirely good. If, on the contrary, any requisite Passion be wanting; or if there be any one supernumerary, or weak, or any-wise disserviceable, or contrary to that main End; then is the natural Temper, and consequently the Creature himself, in some measure corrupt and ill.

  THERE is no need of mentioning either Envy, Malice, Frowardness, or other such hateful Passions; to shew in what manner they are ill, and constitute an ill Creature. But it may be necessary perhaps to remark, that even as to Kindness and Love of the most natural sort, (such as that of any Creature for its Offspring) if it be immoderate and beyond a certain degree, it is undoubtedly vitious. For thus over-great Tenderness destroys the Effect of Love, and excessive Pity renders us uncapable of giving succour. Hence the Excess of motherly Love is own’d to be a vitious Fondness; over-great Pity, Effeminacy and Weakness; over-great Concern for Self-preservation, Meanness and Cowardice; too little, Rashness; and none at all, or that which is contrary, (viz. a Passion leading to Self-destruction) a mad and desperate Depravity.[28]

  Sect. 3.SECTION III

  BUT to proceed from what is esteem’d mere Goodness, and lies within the reach and capacity of all sensible Creatures, to that which is call’d Virtue or Merit, and is allow’d to Man only.

  Reflex Affection.In a Creature capable of forming general Notions of Things, not only the outward Beings which offer themselves to the Sense, are the Objects of the Affection; but the very Actions themselves, and the Affections of Pity, Kindness, Gratitude, and their Contrarys, being brought into the Mind by Reflection, become Objects. So that, by means of this reflected Sense, there arises another kind of Affection towards those very Affections themselves, which have been already felt, and are now become the Subject of a new Liking or Dislike.

  The Case is the same in mental or moral Subjects, as in ordinary Bodys, or the common Subjects of Sense. The Shapes, Motions, Colours, and Proportions of these latter being presented to our Eye; there necessarily results a * Beauty or Deformity, according to the different Measure, Ar[29]rangement and Disposition of their several Parts. So in Behaviour and Actions, when presented to our Understanding, there must be found, of necessity, an apparent Difference, according to the Regularity or Irregularity of the Subjects.

  Moral Beauty and Deformity.The Mind, which is Spectator or Auditor of other Minds, cannot be without its Eye and Ear; so as to discern Proportion, distinguish Sound, and scan each Sentiment or Thought which comes before it. It can let nothing escape its Censure. It feels the Soft and Harsh, the Agreeable and Disagreeable, in the Affections; and finds a Foul and Fair, a Harmonious and a Dissonant, as really and truly here, as in any musical Numbers, or in the outward Forms or Representations of sensible Things. Nor can it * with-hold its Admiration and Extasy, its Aversion and Scorn, any more in what relates to one than to the other of these Subjects. So that to deny the common and natural Sense of a Sublime and Beautiful in Things, will appear an † Affectation merely, to any-one who considers duly of this Affair.

  Now as in the sensible kind of Objects, the Species or Images of Bodys, Colours, and Sounds, are perpetually moving before[30] our Eyes, and acting on our Senses, even when we sleep; so in the moral and intellectual kind, the Forms and Images of Things are no less active and incumbent on the Mind, at all Seasons, and even when the real Objects themselves are absent.

  In these vagrant Characters or Pictures of Manners, which the Mind of necessity figures to it-self, and carrys still about with it, the Heart cannot possibly remain neutral; but constantly takes part one way or other. However false or corrupt it be within it-self, it finds the difference, as to Beauty and Comeliness, between one Heart and another, one Turn of Affection, one Behaviour, one Sentiment and another; and accordingly, in all disinterested Cases, must approve in some measure of what is natural and honest, and disapprove what is dishonest and corrupt.

  Thus the several Motions, Inclinations, Passions, Dispositions, and consequent Carriage and Behaviour of Creatures in the various Parts of Life, being in several Views or Perspectives represented to the Mind, which readily discerns the Good and Ill towards the Species or Publick; there arises a new Trial or Exercise of the Heart: which must either rightly and soundly affect what is just and right, and disaffect what is contrary; or, corruptly[31] affect what is ill, and disaffect, what is worthy and good.

  Publick Good an Object.And in this Case alone it is we call any Creature worthy or virtuous, when it can have the Notion of a publick Interest, and can attain the Speculation or Science of what is morally good or ill, admirable or blameable, right or wrong. For tho we may vulgarly call an ill Horse vitious, yet we never say of a good one, nor of any mere Beast, Idiot, or Changeling, tho ever so good-natur’d, that he is worthy or virtuous.

  So that if a Creature be generous, kind, constant, compassionate; yet if he cannot reflect on what he himself does, or sees others do, so as to take notice of what is worthy or honest; and make that Notice or Conception of Worth and Honesty to be an Object of his Affection; he has not the Character of being virtuous:GOODNESS and VIRTUE. for thus, and no otherwise, he is capable of having a Sense of Right or Wrong; a Sentiment or Judgment of what is done, thro’ just, equal, and good Affection, or the contrary.

  Unequal Affection, or Iniquity.Whatsoever is done thro’ any unequal Affection, is iniquous, wicked, and wrong. If the Affection be equal, found, and good, and the Subject of the Affection such as may with advantage to So[32]ciety be ever in the same manner prosecuted, or affected; this must necessarily constitute what we call Equity and Right in any Action. For, Wrong is not such Action as is barely the Cause of Harm, (since at this rate a dutiful Son aiming at an Enemy, but by mistake or ill chance happening to kill his Father, wou’d do a Wrong) but when any thing is done thro’ insufficient or unequal Affection, (as when a Son shews no Concern for the Safety of a Father; or, where there is need of Succour, prefers an indifferent Person to him) this is of the nature of Wrong.

  Neither can any Weakness or Imperfection in the Senses be the occasion of Iniquity or Wrong;Impair’d Sense. if the Object of the Mind it-self be not at any time absurdly fram’d, nor any way improper, but sutable, just, and worthy of the Opinion and Affection apply’d to it. For if we will suppose a Man, who being sound and intire both in his Reason and Affection, has nevertheless so deprav’d a Constitution or Frame of Body, that the natural Objects are, thro’ his Organs of Sense, as thro’ ill Glasses, falsly convey’d and misrepresented; ’twill be soon observ’d, in such a Person’s case, that since his Failure is not in his principal or leading Part; he cannot in himself be esteem’d iniquous, or unjust.[33]

  Corrupt Opinion.’Tis otherwise in what relates to Opinion, Belief, or Speculation. For as the Extravagance of Judgment or Belief is such, that in some Countrys even Monkeys, Cats, Crocodiles, and other vile or destructive Animals, have been esteem’d holy, and worship’d even as Deitys; shou’d it appear to any-one of the Religion or Belief of those Countrys, that to save such a Creature as a Cat, preferably to a Parent, was Right; and that other Men, who had not the same religious Opinion, were to be treated as Enemys, till converted; this wou’d be certainly Wrong, and wicked in the Believer: and every Action, grounded on this Belief, wou’d be an iniquous, wicked, and vitious Action.

  Right and Wrong.And thus whatsoever causes a Misconception or Misapprehension of the Worth or Value of any Object, so as to diminish a due, or raise any undue, irregular, or unsocial Affection, must necessarily be the occasion of Wrong. Thus he who affects or loves a Man for the sake of something which is reputed honourable, but which is in reality vitious, is himself vitious and ill. The beginnings of this Corruption may be noted in many Occurrences: As when an ambitious Man, by the Fame of his high Attempts, a Conqueror or a Pirate by his boasted Enterprizes, raises in another[34] Person an Esteem and Admiration of that immoral and inhuman Character, which deserves Abhorrence: ’tis then that the Hearer becomes corrupt, when he secretly approves the Ill he hears. But on the other side, the Man who loves and esteems another, as believing him to have that Virtue which he has not, but only counterfeits, is not on this account either vitious or corrupt.

  A Mistake therefore in Fact being no Cause or Sign of ill Affection, can be no Cause of Vice. But a Mistake of Right being the Cause of unequal Affection, must of necessity be the Cause of vitious Action, in every intelligent or rational Being.

  But as there are many Occasions where the matter of Right may even to the most discerning part of Mankind appear difficult, and of doubtful Decision, ’tis not a slight Mistake of this kind which can destroy the Character of a virtuous or worthy Man. But when, either thro’ Superstition or ill Custom, there come to be very gross Mistakes in the assignment or application of the Affection; when the Mistakes are either in their nature so gross, or so complicated and frequent, that a Creature cannot well live in a natural State; nor with due Affections, compatible with human Society and civil Life; then is the Character of Virtue forfeited.[35]

  And thus we find how far Worth and Virtue depend on a knowledg of Right and Wrong,VICE in Opinion. and on a use of Reason, sufficient to secure a right application of the Affections; that nothing horrid or unnatural, nothing unexemplary, nothing destructive of that natural Affection by which the Species or Society is upheld, may, on any account, or thro’ any Principle or Notion of Honour or Religion, be at any time affected or prosecuted as a good and proper object of Esteem. For such a Principle as this must be wholly vitious: and whatsoever is acted upon it, can be no other than Vice and Immorality.Vitious Worship. And thus if there be any thing which teaches Men either Treachery, Ingratitude, or Cruelty, by divine Warrant; or under colour and pretence of any present or future Good to Mankind: if there be any thing which teaches Men to * persecute their Friends thro’ Love; or to torment Captives of War in sport; or to offer † human Sacrifice; or to torment, macerate, or mangle themselves, in a religious Zeal, before their God; or to commit any sort of Barbarity, or Brutality, as amiable or becoming: be it Custom which gives Applause, or Religion which gives a Sanction; this is not, nor ever can be Virtue[36] of any kind, or in any sense; but must remain still horrid Depravity,Vitious Custom. notwithstanding any Fashion, Law, Custom, or Religion; which may be ill and vitious it-self, but can never alter the eternal Measures, and immutable independent Nature of Worth and Virtue.

  Sect. 4.SECTION IV

  Sensible and rational Objects.UPON the whole. As to those Creatures which are only capable of being mov’d by sensible Objects; they are accordingly good or vitious, as the sensible Affections stand with them. ’Tis otherwise in Creatures capable of framing rational Objects of moral Good. For in one of this kind, shou’d the sensible Affections stand ever so much amiss; yet if they prevail not, because of those other rational Affections spoken of; ’tis evident, the Temper still holds good in the main; and the Person is with justice esteem’d virtuous by all Men.

  Trial of Virtue.More than this. If by Temper any one is passionate, angry, fearful, amorous; yet resists these Passions, and notwithstanding the force of their Impression, adheres to Virtue; we say commonly in this case, that the Virtue is the greater: and we say well. Tho if that which restrains the Person, and holds him to a virtuous-like Be[37]haviour, be no Affection towards Goodness or Virtue it-self, but towards private Good merely, he is not in reality the more virtuous; as has been shewn before. But this still is evident, that if voluntarily, and without foreign Constraint, an angry Temper bears, or an amorous one refrains, so that neither any cruel or immodest Action can be forc’d from such a Person, tho ever so strongly tempted by his Constitution; we applaud his Virtue above what we shou’d naturally do, if he were free of this Temptation, and these Propensitys. At the same time, there is no body will say that a Propensity to Vice can be an Ingredient in Virtue, or any way necessary to compleat a virtuous Character.

  There seems therefore to be some kind of difficulty in the Case: but it amounts only to this. If there be any part of the Temper in which ill Passions or Affections are seated, whilst in another part the Affections towards moral Good are such as absolutely to master those Attempts of their Antagonists; this is the greatest Proof imaginable, that a strong Principle of Virtue lies at the bottom, and has possess’d it-self of the natural Temper. Whereas if there be no ill Passions stirring, a Person may be indeed more cheaply virtuous; that is to say, he may conform himself to the known Rules of Virtue,[38] without sharing so much of a virtuous Principle as another. Yet if that other Person, who has the Principle of Virtue so strongly implanted, comes at last to lose those contrary Impediments suppos’d in him, he certainly loses nothing in Virtue; but on the contrary, losing only what is vitious in his Temper, is left more intire to Virtue, and possesses it in a higher degree.

  Degrees of Virtue.Thus is Virtue shar’d in different degrees by rational Creatures; such at least as are call’d rational; but who come short of that sound and well-establish’d Reason, which alone can constitute a just Affection, a uniform and steddy Will and Resolution. And thus Vice and Virtue are found variously mix’d, and alternately prevalent in the several Characters of Mankind. For it seems evident from our Inquiry, that how ill soever the Temper or Passions may stand with respect either to the sensible or the moral Objects; however passionate, furious, lustful, or cruel any Creature may become; however vitious the Mind be, or whatever ill Rules or Principles it goes by; yet if there be any Flexibleness or favourable Inclination towards the least moral Object, the least appearance of moral Good (as if there be any such thing as Kindness, Gratitude, Bounty, or Compassion), there is still something of Virtue[39] left; and the Creature is not wholly vitious and unnatural.

  Thus a Ruffian, who out of a sense of Fidelity and Honour of any kind, refuses to discover his Associates; and rather than betray them, is content to endure Torments and Death; has certainly some Principle of Virtue, however he may misapply it. ’Twas the same Case with that Malefactor, who rather than do the Office of Executioner to his Companions, chose to keep ’em company in their Execution.

  In short: As it seems hard to pronounce of any Man, “That he is absolutely an Atheist”; so it appears altogether as hard to pronounce of any Man, “That he is absolutely corrupt or vitious”; there being few, even of the horridest Villains, who have not something of Virtue in this imperfect sense. Nothing is more just than a known saying, “That it is as hard to find a Man wholly Ill, as wholly Good”: because wherever there is any good Affection left, there is certainly some Goodness or Virtue still in being.

  And, having consider’d thus of Virtue,What it is in it-self; we may now consider how it stands with respect to the Opinions concerning aDeity, as above-mention’d.[40]

  PART III

  Sect. 1.SECTION I

  Causes of VICE.THE Nature of Virtue consisting (as has been explain’d) in a certain just Disposition, or proportionable Affection of a rational Creature towards the moral Objects of Right and Wrong; nothing can possibly in such a Creature exclude a Principle of Virtue, or render it ineffectual, except what,

  • 1.Either takes away the natural and just Sense of Right and Wrong:
  • 2.Or creates a wrong Sense of it:
  • 3.Or causes the right Sense to be oppos’d, by contrary Affections.

  Of VIRTUE.On the other side, nothing can assist, or advance the Principle of Virtue, except what either in some manner nourishes and promotes a Sense of Right and Wrong; or preserves it genuine and uncorrupt; or causes it, when such, to be obey’d, by[41] subduing and subjecting the other Affections to it.

  We are to consider, therefore, how any of the above-mention’d Opinions on the Subject of a Deity, may influence in these Cases, or produce either of these three Effects.

  I.

  Loss of Moral Sense.As to the first Case;The taking away the natural Sense of Right and Wrong.

  IT will not surely be understood, that by this is meant the taking away the Notion of what is good or ill in the Species, or Society. For of the Reality of such a Good and Ill, no rational Creature can possibly be insensible. Every one discerns and owns a publick Interest, and is conscious of what affects his Fellowship or Community. When we say therefore of a Creature, “That he has wholly lost the Sense of Right and Wrong”; we suppose that being able to discern the Good and Ill of his Species, he has at the same time no Concern for either, nor any Sense of Excellency or Baseness in any moral Action, relating to one or the other. So that except merely with respect to a private and narrowly confin’d Self-good, ’tis suppos’d there is in such a Creature no Liking or[42]Dislike of Manners; no Admiration, or Love of any thing as morally good; nor Hatred of any thing as morally ill, be it ever so unnatural or deform’d.

  Moral Sense.There is in reality no rational Creature whatsoever, who knows not that when he voluntarily offends or does harm to any-one, he cannot fail to create an Apprehension and Fear of like harm, and consequently a Resentment and Animosity in every Creature who observes him. So that the Offender must needs be conscious of being liable to such Treatment from every-one, as if he had in some degree offended All.

  Thus Offence and Injury are always known as punishable by every-one; and equal Behaviour, which is therefore call’d Merit, as rewardable and well-deserving from every-one. Of this even the wickedest Creature living must have a Sense. So that if there be any further meaning in this Sense of Right and Wrong; if in reality there be any Sense of this kind which an absolute wicked Creature has not; it must consist in a real Antipathy or Aversion to Injustice or Wrong, and in a real Affection or Love towards Equity and Right, for its own sake, and on the account of its own natural Beauty and Worth.[43]

  ’Tis impossible to suppose a mere sensible Creature originally so ill-constituted, and unnatural, as that from the moment he comes to be try’d by sensible Objects, he shou’d have no one good Passion towards his Kind, no foundation either of Pity, Love, Kindness, or social Affection. ’Tis full as impossible to conceive, that a rational Creature coming first to be try’d by rational Objects, and receiving into his Mind the Images or Representations of Justice, Generosity, Gratitude, or other Virtue, shou’d have no Liking of these, or Dislike of their contrarys; but be found absolutely indifferent towards whatsoever is presented to him of this sort. A Soul, indeed, may as well be without Sense, as without Admiration in the Things of which it has any knowledg. Coming therefore to a Capacity of seeing and admiring in this new way, it must needs find a Beauty and a Deformity as well in Actions, Minds, and Tempers, as in Figures, Sounds, or Colours. If there be no real Amiableness or Deformity in moral Acts, there is at least an imaginary one of full force. Tho perhaps the Thing itself shou’d not be allow’d in Nature, the Imagination or Fancy of it must be allow’d to be from Nature alone. Nor can any thing besides Art and strong Endeavour, with long Practice and Meditation, over[44]come such a natural Prevention, or *Prepossession of the Mind, in favour of this moral Distinction.

  How impair’d:Sense of Right and Wrong therefore being as natural to us as natural Affection itself, and being a first Principle in our Constitution and Make; there is no speculative Opinion, Persuasion or Belief, which is capable immediately or directly to exclude or destroy it. That which is of original and pure Nature, nothing beside contrary Habit and Custom (a second Nature) is able to displace. And this Affection being an original one of earliest rise in the Soul or affectionate Part;By opposite Affection, or Antipathy; nothing beside contrary Affection, by frequent check and controul, can operate upon it, so as either to diminish it in part, or destroy it in the whole.

  ’Tis evident in what relates to the Frame and Order of our Bodys; that no particular odd Mein or Gesture, which is either natural to us, and consequent to our Make, or accidental and by Habit acquir’d, can possibly be overcome by our immediate Disapprobation, or the contrary Bent of our Will, ever so strongly set against it. Such a Change cannot be effected without extraordinary Means, and the intervention of Art and Method, a strict Attention, and repeated Check. And[45] even thus, Nature, we find, is hardly master’d; but lies sullen, and ready to revolt, on the first occasion. Much more is this the Mind’s Case in respect of that natural Affection and anticipating Fancy, which makes the sense of Right and Wrong. ’Tis impossible that this can instantly, or without much Force and Violence,Not by Opinion merely. be effac’d, or struck out of the natural Temper, even by means of the most extravagant Belief or Opinion in the World.

  Neither Theism therefore, nor Atheism, nor Daemonism, nor any religious or irreligious Belief of any kind, being able to operate immediately or directly in this Case, but indirectly, by the intervention of opposite or of favourable Affections casually excited by any such Belief; we may consider of this Effect in our last Case, where we come to examine the Agreement or Disagreement of other Affections with this natural and moral one which relates to Right and Wrong.

  Sect. 2.SECTION II

  II.

  Corruption of Moral Sense.As to the second Case, viz.The wrong Sense or false Imagination of Right and Wrong.

  THIS can proceed only from the Force of Custom and Education in opposition to[46] Nature; as may be noted in those Countrys where, according to Custom or politick Institution, certain Actions naturally foul and odious are repeatedly view’d with Applause, and Honour ascrib’d to them. For thus ’tis possible that a Man, forcing himself, may eat the Flesh of his Enemys, not only against his Stomach, but against his Nature; and think it nevertheless both right and honourable; as supposing it to be of considerable service to his Community, and capable of advancing the Name, and spreading the Terror of his Nation.

  Causes of this Corruption.But to speak of the Opinions relating to a Deity; and what effect they may have in this place. As to Atheism, it does not seem that it can directly have any effect at all towards the setting up a false Species of Right or Wrong. For notwithstanding a Man may thro’ Custom,Custom. or by licentiousness of Practice, favour’d by Atheism, come in time to lose much of his natural moral Sense; yet it does not seem that Atheism shou’d of it-self be the cause of any estimation or valuing of any thing as fair, noble, and deserving, which was the contrary. It can never, for instance, make it be thought that the being able to eat Man’s Flesh, or commit Bestiality, is good and excellent in it-self. But this is certain, that by means of corrupt Religion, or Superstition,Superstition. many things the[47] most horridly unnatural and inhuman, come to be receiv’d as excellent, good, and laudable in themselves.

  Nor is this a wonder. For where-ever any-thing, in its nature odious and abominable, is by Religion advanc’d, as the suppos’d Will or Pleasure of a supreme Deity; if in the eye of the Believer it appears not indeed in any respect the less ill or odious on this account; then must the Deity of necessity bear the blame, and be consider’d as a Being naturally ill and odious, however courted, and sollicited, thro’ Mistrust and Fear. But this is what Religion, in the main, forbids us to imagine. It everywhere prescribes Esteem and Honour in company with Worship and Adoration. Whensoever therefore it teaches the Love and Admiration of a Deity, who has any apparent Character of Ill; it teaches at the same time a Love and Admiration of that Ill, and causes that to be taken for good and amiable, which is in it-self horrid and detestable.

  For instance: if Jupiter be He who is ador’d and reverenc’d; and if his History represents him amorously inclin’d, and permitting his Desires of this kind to wander in the loosest manner; ’tis certain that his Worshipers, believing this History to be literally and strictly true, must of[48] course be taught a greater Love of amorous and wanton Acts. If there be a Religion which teaches the Adoration and Love of a God, whose Character it is to be captious, and of high resentment, subject to Wrath and Anger, furious, revengeful; and revenging himself, when offended, on others than those who gave the Offence: and if there be added to the Character of this God, a fraudulent Disposition, encouraging Deceit and Treachery amongst Men; favourable to a few, tho for slight causes, and cruel to the rest: ’tis evident that such a Religion as this being strongly enforc’d, must of necessity raise even an Approbation and Respect towards the Vices of this kind, and breed a sutable Disposition, a capricious, partial, revengeful, and deceitful Temper. For even Irregularitys and Enormitys of a heinous kind must in many cases appear illustrious to one, who considers them in a Being admir’d and contemplated with the highest Honour and Veneration.

  This indeed must be allow’d; that if in the Cult or Worship of such a Deity there be nothing beyond common Form, nothing beside what proceeds from mere Example, Custom, Constraint, or Fear; if there be, at the bottom, no real Heartiness, no Esteem or Love imply’d; the Worshiper perhaps may not be much[49] misled as to his Notion of Right and Wrong. If in following the Precepts of his suppos’d God, or doing what he esteems necessary towards the satisfying of such his Deity, he is compel’d only by Fear, and, contrary to his Inclination, performs an Act which he secretly detests as barbarous and unnatural; then has he an Apprehension or Sense still of Right and Wrong, and, according to what has been already observ’d, is sensible of Ill in the Character of his God; however cautious he may be of pronouncing any thing on this Subject, or so thinking of it, as to frame any formal or direct Opinion in the case. But if by insensible degrees, as he proceeds in his religious Faith and devout Exercise, he comes to be more and more reconcil’d to the Malignity, Arbitrariness, Pariality, or Revengefulness of his believ’d Deity; his Reconciliation with these Qualitys themselves will soon grow in proportion; and the most cruel, unjust, and barbarous Acts, will, by the power of this Example, be often consider’d by him, not only as just and lawful, but as divine, and worthy of imitation.

  For whoever thinks there is a God, and pretends formally to believe that he is just and good, must suppose that there is independently such a thing as Justice and Injustice, Truth and Falshood, Right and[50]Wrong; according to which he pronounces that God is just, righteous, and true. If the mere Will, Decree, or Law of God be said absolutely to constitute Right and Wrong, then are these latter words of no significancy at all. For thus if each part of a Contradiction were affirm’d for Truth by the supreme Power, they wou’d consequently become true. Thus if one Person were decreed to suffer for another’s fault, the Sentence wou’d be just and equitable. And thus, in the same manner, if arbitrarily, and without reason, some Beings were destin’d to endure perpetual Ill, and others as constantly to enjoy Good; this also wou’d pass under the same Denomination. But to say of any thing that it is just or unjust, on such a foundation as this, is to say nothing, or to speak without a meaning.

  And thus it appears, that where a real Devotion and hearty Worship is paid to a supreme Being, who in his History or Character is represented otherwise than as really and truly just and good; there must ensue a Loss of Rectitude, a Disturbance of Thought, and a Corruption of Temper and Manners in the Believer. His Honesty will, of necessity, be supplanted by his Zeal, whilst he is thus unnaturally influenc’d, and render’d thus immorally devout.[51]

  Influence of Religion.To this we need only add, that as the ill Character of a God does injury to the Affections of Men, and disturbs and impairs the natural Sense of Right and Wrong; so, on the other hand, nothing can more highly contribute to the fixing of right Apprehensions, and a sound Judgment or Sense of Right and Wrong, than to believe a God who is ever, and on all accounts, represented such as to be actually a true Model and Example of the most exact Justice, and highest Goodness and Worth. Such a View of divine Providence and Bounty, extended to All, and express’d in a constant good Affection towards the Whole, must of necessity engage us, within our Compass and Sphere, to act by a like Principle and Affection. And having once the Good of our Species or Publick in view, as our End or Aim, ’tis impossible we shou’d be misguided by any means to a false Apprehension or Sense of Right or Wrong.

  As to this second Case therefore; Religion (according as the kind may prove) is capable of doing great Good, or Harm; and Atheism nothing positive in either way. For however it may be indirectly an occasion of Mens losing a good and sufficient Sense of Right and Wrong; it will not, as Atheism merely,[52] be the occasion of setting up a false Species of it; which only false Religion, or fantastical Opinion, deriv’d commonly from Superstition and Credulity, is able to effect.

  Sect. 3.SECTION III

  NOW as to the last Case, The Opposition made by other Affections to the natural Sense of Right and Wrong.Opposition of the Affections.

  ’TIS evident, that a Creature having this sort of Sense or good Affection in any degree, must necessarily act according to it; if it happens not to be oppos’d, either by some settled sedate Affection towards a conceiv’d private Good, or by some sudden, strong and forcible Passion, as of Lust or Anger; which may not only subdue the Sense of Right and Wrong, but the very Sense of private Good it-self; and overrule even the most familiar and receiv’d Opinion of what is conducing to Self-interest.

  But it is not our business in this place to examine the several Means or Methods by which this Corruption is introduc’d or increas’d. We are to consider only how the Opinions concerning a Deity can influence one way or another.[53]

  Rise of Moral Sense.That it is possible for a Creature capable of using Reflection, to have a Liking or Dislike of moral Actions, and consequently a Sense of Right and Wrong, before such time as he may have any settled Notion of a God, is what will hardly be question’d: it being a thing not expected, or any-way possible, that a Creature such as Man, arising from his Childhood, slowly and gradually, to several degrees of Reason and Reflection, shou’d, at the very first, be taken up with those Speculations, or more refin’d sort of Reflections, about the Subject of God’s Existence.

  Let us suppose a Creature, who wanting Reason, and being unable to reflect, has, notwithstanding, many good Qualitys and Affections; as Love to his Kind, Courage, Gratitude, or Pity. ’Tis certain that if you give to this Creature a reflecting Faculty, it will at the same instant approve of Gratitude, Kindness, and Pity; be taken with any shew or representation of the social Passion, and think nothing more amiable than this, or more odious than the contrary. And this is to be capable ofVirtue, and to have a Sense ofRightandWrong.[54]

  Before the time, therefore, that a Creature can have any plain or positive Notion one way or other, concerning the Subject of a God, he may be suppos’d to have an Apprehension or Sense of Right and Wrong, and be possess’d of Virtue and Vice in different degrees; as we know by Experience of those, who having liv’d in such places, and in such a manner as never to have enter’d into any serious Thoughts of Religion, are nevertheless very different among themselves, as to their Characters of Honesty and Worth: some being naturally modest, kind, friendly, and consequently Lovers of kind and friendly Actions; others proud, harsh, cruel, and consequently inclin’d to admire rather the Acts of Violence and mere Power.

  DEITY.Now, as to the Belief of a Deity, and how Men are influenc’d by it; we may consider, in the first place, on what account Men yield Obedience, and act in conformity to such a supreme Being. It must be either in the way of hisPower, as presupposing some Disadvantage or Benefit to accrue from him: or in the way of hisExcellency and Worth, as thinking it the Perfection of Nature to imitate and resemble him.[55]

  If, as in the first Case, there be a Belief or Conception of a Deity,Hope and Fear. who is consider’d only as powerful over his Creature, and inforcing Obedience to his absolute Will by particular Rewards and Punishments; and if on this account, thro’ hope merely of Reward, or fear of Punishment, the Creature be incited to do the Good he hates, or restrain’d from doing the Ill to which he is not otherwise in the least degree averse; there is in this Case (as has been already shewn) no Virtue or Goodness whatsoever. The Creature, notwithstanding his good Conduct, is intrinsecally of as little Worth, as if he acted in his natural way, when under no dread or terror of any sort. There is no more of Rectitude, Piety, or Sanctity in a Creature thus reform’d, than there is Meekness or Gentleness in a Tiger strongly chain’d, or Innocence and Sobriety in a Monkey under the Discipline of the Whip. For however orderly and well those Animals, or Man himself upon like terms, may be induc’d to act, whilst the Will is neither gain’d, nor the Inclination wrought upon, but Awe alone prevails and forces Obedience; the Obedience is servile, and all which is done thro’ it, merely servile. The greater degree of such a Submission or Obedience, is only the greater Servility; whatever[56] may be the Object. For whether such a Creature has a good Master,Fear. or an ill one, he is neither more or less servile in his own nature. Be the Master or Superior ever so perfect, or excellent, yet the greater Submission caus’d in this Case, thro’ this sole Principle or Motive, is only the lower and more abject Servitude; and implies the greater Wretchedness and Meanness in the Creature, who has those Passions of Self-love so predominant, and is in his Temper so vitious and defective, as has been explain’d.

  Honour and Love.As to the second Case. If there be a Belief or Conception of a Deity, who is consider’d as worthy and good, and admir’d and reverenc’d as such; being understood to have, besides mere Power and Knowledg, the highest Excellence of Nature, such as renders him justly amiable to All: and if in the manner this Sovereign and mighty Being is represented, or, as he is historically describ’d, there appears in him a high and eminent regard to what is good and excellent, a Concern for the good of All, and an Affection of Benevolence and Love towards the Whole;Divine Example. such an Example must undoubtedly serve (as above explain’d) to raise and increase the Affection towards Virtue, and help to submit and subdue all other Affections to that alone.[57]

  Nor is this Good effected by Example merely. For where the Theistical Belief is intire and perfect, there must be a steddy Opinion of the Superintendency of a Supreme Being, a Witness and Spectator of human Life, and conscious of whatsoever is felt or acted in the Universe: So that in the perfectest Recess or deepest Solitude, there must be One still presum’d remaining with us; whose Presence singly must be of more moment than that of the most august Assembly on Earth. In such a Presense,Divine Presence. ’tis evident, that as the Shame of guilty Actions must be the greatest of any; so must the Honour be, of well-doing, even under the unjust Censure of a World. And in this Case, ’tis very apparent how conducing a perfect Theism must be to Virtue, and how great Deficiency there is in Atheism.

  Fear and Hope.What the Fearof future Punishment, and Hopeof future Reward, added to this Belief, may further contribute towards Virtue, we come now to consider more particularly. So much in the mean while may be gather’d from what has been said above; That neither this Fear or Hope can possibly be of the kind call’d good Affections, such as are acknowledg’d the Springs and Sources of all Actions truly good. Nor can this Fear or[58] Hope, as above intimated, consist in reality with Virtue, or Goodness; if it either stands as essential to any moral Performance, or as a considerable Motive to any Act, of which some better Affection ought, alone, to have been a sufficient Cause.

  Self-love,It may be consider’d withal; That, in this religious sort of Discipline, the Principle of Self-love,How advanc’d. which is naturally so prevailing in us, being no-way moderated or restrain’d, but rather improv’d and made stronger every day, by the exercise of the Passions in a Subject of more extended Self-interest; there may be reason to apprehend lest the Temper of this kind shou’d extend it-self in general thro’ all the Parts of Life. For if the Habit be such as to occasion, in every particular, a stricter Attention to Self-good, and private Interest; it must insensibly diminish the Affections towards publick Good, or the Interest of Society; and introduce a certain Narrowness of Spirit, which (as some pretend) is peculiarly observable in the devout Persons and Zealots of almost every religious Persuasion.

  Its Effects in Religion.This, too, must be confess’d; That if it be true Piety, to love Godfor his own sake; the over-sollicitous regard to private Good expected from him, must of necessity prove a diminution of Pie[59]ty. For whilst God is belov’d only as the Cause of private Good, he is no otherwise belov’d than as any other Instrument or Means of Pleasure by any vitious Creature. Now the more there is of this violent Affection towards private Good, the less room is there for the other sort towards Goodness it-self, or any good and deserving Object, worthy of Love and Admiration for its own sake; such as God is universally acknowledg’d, or at least by the generality of civiliz’d or refin’d Worshipers.

  ’Tis in this respect that the strong Desire and Love of Life may also prove an Obstacle to Piety, as well as to Virtue and publick Love. For the stronger this Affection is in any-one, the less will he be able to have true Resignation, or Submission to the Rule and Order of the Deity.False Resignation. And if that which he calls Resignation depends only on the expectation of infinite Retribution or Reward, he discovers no more Worth or Virtue here, than in any other Bargain of Interest: The meaning of his Resignation being only this, “That he resigns his present Life and Pleasures, conditionally for That, which he himself confesses to be beyond an Equivalent; eternal living in a State of highest Pleasure and Enjoyment.”[60]

  But notwithstanding the Injury which the Principle of Virtue may possibly suffer, by the Increase of the selfish Passion, in the way we have been mentioning; ’tis certain, on the other side,Belief of future Life; that the Principle of Fear of future Punishment, and Hope of future Reward, how mercenary or servile soever it may be accounted, is yet, in many Circumstances,How advantageous. a great Advantage, Security, and Support to Virtue.

  It has been already consider’d, that notwithstanding there may be implanted in the Heart a real Sense of Right and Wrong,Supporting. a real good Affection towards the Species or Society; yet by the violence of Rage, Lust, or any other counterworking Passion, this good Affection may frequently be controul’d and overcome. Where therefore there is nothing in the Mind capable to render such ill Passions the Objects of its Aversion, and cause them earnestly to be oppos’d; ’tis apparent how much a good Temper in time must suffer, and a Character by degrees change for the worse. But if Religion interposing, creates a Belief that the ill Passions of this kind, no less than their consequent Actions, are the Objects of a Deity’s Animadversion; ’tis certain, that such a Belief must prove a seasonable Remedy[61] against Vice, and be in a particular manner advantageous to Virtue. For a Belief of this kind must be suppos’d to tend considerably towards the calming of the Mind, and disposing or fitting the Person to a better Recollection of himself, and to a stricter Observance of that good and virtuous Principle, which needs only his Attention, to engage him wholly in its Party and Interest.

  Saving.And as this Belief of a future Reward and Punishment is capable of supporting those who thro’ ill Practice are like to apostatize from Virtue; so when by ill Opinion and wrong Thought, the Mind it-self is bent against the honest Course, and debauch’d even to an Esteem, and deliberate Preference of a vitious one; the Belief of the kind mention’d may prove on this occasion the only Relief and Safety.

  A Person, for instance, who has much of Goodness and natural Rectitude in his Temper, but withal, so much Softness, or Effeminacy, as unfits him to bear Poverty, Crosses or Adversity; if by ill Fortune he meets with many Trials of this kind, it must certainly give a Sourness and Distaste to his Temper, and make him exceedingly averse to that which he may falsly presume the occasion[62] of such Calamity or Ill. Now if his own Thoughts,Belief of future Life; or the corrupt Insinuations of other Men, present it often to his Mind, “That hisHonestyis the occasion of this Calamity, and that if he were deliver’d from this Restraint ofVirtueandHonesty,he might be much happier”: ’tis very obvious that his Esteem of these good Qualitys must in proportion diminish every day, as the Temper grows uneasy, and quarrels with it-self. But if he opposes to this Thought the Consideration, “That Honesty carrys with it, if not a present, at least a future Advantage, such as to compensate that Loss of private Good which he regrets”; then may this injury to his good Temper and honest Principle be prevented, and his Love or Affection towards Honesty and Virtue remain as it was before.

  Improving.In the same manner, where instead of Regard or Love, there is rather an Aversion to what is good and virtuous, (as, for instance, where Lenity and Forgiveness are despis’d, and Revenge highly thought of, and belov’d) if there be this Consideration added, “That Lenity is, by its Rewards, made the cause of a greater Self-good and Enjoyment than what is found in Revenge”; that very Affection of Lenity and Mildness may come to be industriously nourish’d, and the contrary Pas[63]sion depress’d. And thus Temperance, Modesty, Candour, Benignity, and other good Affections, however despis’d at first, may come at last to be valu’d for their own Sakes, the contrary Species rejected, and the good and proper Object belov’d and prosecuted, when the Reward or Punishment is not so much as thought of.

  Rewards and Punishments,Thus in a civilState or Publick, we see that a virtuous Administration, and an equal and just Distribution of Rewards and Punishments, is of the highest service; not only by restraining the Vitious, and forcing them to act usefully to Society;In the State. but by making Virtue to be apparently the Interest of every-one, so as to remove all Prejudices against it, create a fair reception for it, and lead Men into that path which afterwards they cannot easily quit. For thus a People rais’d from Barbarity or despotick Rule, civiliz’d by Laws, and made virtuous by the long Course of a lawful and just Administration; if they chance to fall suddenly under any Misgovernment of unjust and arbitrary Power, they will on this account be the rather animated to exert a stronger Virtue, in opposition to such Violence and Corruption. And even where, by long and continu’d Arts of a prevailing Tyranny, such a People are at last totally oppress’d, the scatter’d Seeds of Virtue[64] will for a long time remain alive, even to a second Generation; ere the utmost Force of misapply’d Rewards and Punishments can bring them to the abject and compliant State of long-accustom’d Slaves.

  But tho a right Distribution of Justice in a Government be so essential a cause of Virtue, we must observe in this Case, that it is Example which chiefly influences Mankind, and forms the Character and Disposition of a People. For a virtuous Administration is in a manner necessarily accompany’d with Virtue in the Magistrate. Otherwise it cou’d be of little effect, and of no long duration. But where it is sincere and well establish’d, there Virtue and the Laws must necessarily be respected and belov’d. So that as to Punishments and Rewards, their Efficacy is not so much from the Fear or Expectation which they raise, as from a natural Esteem of Virtue, and Detestation of Villany, which is awaken’d and excited by these publick Expressions of the Approbation and Hatred of Mankind in each Case. For in the publick Executions of the greatest Villains, we see generally that the Infamy and Odiousness of their Crime, and the Shame of it before Mankind, contribute more to their Misery than all besides; and that it is not the immediate Pain, or Death[65] it-self, which raises so much Horror either in the Sufferers or Spectators, as that ignominious kind of Death which is inflicted for publick Crimes, and Violations of Justice and Humanity.

  In the Family.And as the Case of Reward and Punishment stands thus in the Publick, so, in the same manner, as to private Familys. For Slaves and mercenary Servants, restrain’d and made orderly by Punishment, and the Severity of their Master, are not on this account made good or honest. Yet the same Master of the Family using proper Rewards and gentle Punishments towards his Children, teaches them Goodness; and by this help instructs them in a Virtue, which afterwards they practice upon other grounds, and without thinking of a Penalty or Bribe. And this is what we call a Liberal Education and a Liberal Service: the contrary Service and Obedience, whether towards God or Man, being illiberal, and unworthy of any Honour or Commendation.

  In the Case of Religion, however, it must be consider’d,In Religion. that if by the Hope of Reward be understood the Love and Desire of virtuous Enjoyment, or of the very Practice and Exercise of Virtue in another Life; the Expectation or Hope of this kind is so far from being derogatory to[66] Virtue, that it is an Evidence of our loving it the more sincerely and for its own sake. Nor can this Principle be justly call’d selfish: for if the Love of Virtue be not mere Self-Interest, the Love and Desire of Life for Virtue’s sake cannot be esteem’d so. But if the Desire of Life be only thro’ the Violence of that natural Aversion to Death; if it be thro’ the Love of something else than virtuous Affection, or thro’ the Unwillingness of parting with something else than what is purely of this kind; then is it no longer any sign or token of real Virtue.

  Thus a Person loving Life for Life’s sake, and Virtue not at all, may by the Promise or Hope of Life, and Fear of Death, or other Evil, be induc’d to practice Virtue, and even endeavour to be truly virtuous, by a Love of what he practices. Yet neither is this very Endeavour to be esteem’d a Virtue: For tho he may intend to be virtuous, he is not become so, for having only intended, or aim’d at it, thro’ love of the Reward. But as soon as he is come to have any Affection towards what is morally good, and can like or affect such Good for its own sake, as good and amiable in itself; then is he in some degree good and virtuous, and not till then.[67]

  Security to Virtue.Such are the Advantages or Disadvantages which accrue to Virtue from Reflection upon private Good or Interest. For tho the Habit of Selfishness, and the Multiplicity of interested Views, are of little Improvement to real Merit or Virtue; yet there is a necessity for the preservation of Virtue, that it shou’d be thought to have no quarrel with true Interest, and Self-enjoyment.

  Whoever therefore, by any strong Persuasion or settled Judgment, thinks in the main, That Virtue causes Happiness, and Vice Misery, carrys with him that Security and Assistance to Virtue which is requir’d. Or tho he has no such Thought, nor can believe Virtue his real Interest, either with respect to his own Nature and Constitution, or the Circumstances of human Life; yet if he believes any supreme Powers concern’d in the present Affairs of Mankind, and immediately interposing in behalf of the Honest and Virtuous, against the Impious and Unjust; this will serve to preserve in him, however, that just Esteem of Virtue, which might otherwise considerably diminish. Or shou’d he still believe little of the immediate Interposition of Provindence in the Affairs of this present Life; yet if he believes a God dispensing Rewards and Punishments to Vice and Virtue[68] in a future; he carrys with him still the same Advantage and Security;Caution. whilst his Belief is steddy, and no-wise wavering or doubtful. For it must be observ’d, that an Expectation and Dependency, so miraculous and great as this, must naturally take off from other inferior Dependencys and Encouragements. Where infinite Rewards are thus inforc’d, and the Imagination strongly turn’d towards them, the other common and natural Motives to Goodness are apt to be neglected, and lose much by Dis-use. Other Interests are hardly so much as computed, whilst the Mind is thus transported in the pursuit of a high Advantage and Self-Interest, so narrowly confin’d within our-selves. On this account, all other Affections towards Friends, Relations, or Mankind, are often slightly regarded, as being worldly, and of little moment, in respect of the Interest of our Soul. And so little thought is there of any immediate Satisfaction arising from such good Offices of Life,Imprudent Zeal. that it is customary with many devout People zealously to decry all temporal Advantages of Goodness, all natural Benefits of Virtue; and magnifying the contrary Happiness of a vitious State, to declare, “That except only for the sake of future Reward, and fear of future Punishment, they wou’d divest themselves of all Goodness at once, and freely allow themselves to be[69] most immoral and profligate.” From whence it appears, that in some respects there can be nothing more * fatal to Virtue, than the weak and uncertain Belief of a future Reward and Punishment. For the stress being laid wholly here, if this Foundation come to fail, there is no further Prop or Security to Mens Morals. And thus Virtue is supplanted and betray’d.

  Atheism.Now as to Atheism: tho it be plainly deficient and without remedy, in the case of ill Judgment on the Happiness of Virtue; yet it is not, indeed, of necessity the Cause of any such ill Judgment. For without an absolute Assent to any Hypothesis of Theism, the Advantages of Virtue may possibly be seen and own’d, and a high Opinion of it establish’d in the Mind. However, it must be confess’d, that the natural Tendency of Atheism is very different.

  ’Tis in a manner impossible, to have any great opinion of the Happiness of Virtue, without conceiving high thoughts of the Satisfaction resulting from the generous Admiration and Love of it: And nothing beside the Experience of such a Love is likely to make this Satisfaction credited. The chief Ground and Support therefore of this Opinion of Happiness in Virtue, must arise from the powerful feeling of this ge[70]nerous moral Affection, and the knowledg of its Power and Strength. But this is certain, that it can be no great strengthning to the moral Affection, no great support to the pure Love of Goodness and Virtue, to suppose there is neither Goodness nor Beauty in the Whole it-self; nor any Example, or Precedent of good Affection in any superior Being. Such a Belief must tend rather to the weaning the Affections from any thing amiable or self-worthy, and to the suppressing the very Habit and familiar Custom of admiring natural Beautys, or whatever in the Order of things is according to just Design, Harmony, and Proportion. For how little dispos’d must a Person be, to love or admire any thing as orderly in the Universe, who thinks the Universe it-self a Pattern of Disorder? How unapt to reverence or respect any particular subordinate Beauty of a Part; when even the Whole it-self is thought to want Perfection, and to be only a vast and infinite Deformity?

  Nothing indeed can be more melancholy, than the Thought of living in a distracted Universe, from whence many Ills may be suspected, and where there is nothing good or lovely which presents it-self, nothing which can satisfy in Contemplation, or raise any Passion besides that of Contempt, Hatred, or Dislike. Such an Opinion as this may by degrees im[71]bitter the Temper, and not only make the Love of Virtue to be less felt, but help to impair and ruin the very Principle of Virtue, viz. natural and kind Affection.

  Theism.Upon the whole; whoever has a firm Belief of a God, whom he does not merely call good, but of whom in reality he believes nothing beside real Good, nothing beside what is truly sutable to the exactest Character of Benignity and Goodness; such a Person believing Rewards or Retributions in another Life, must believe them annex’d to real Goodness and Merit, real Villany and Baseness, and not to any accidental Qualitys or Circumstances; in which respect they cannot properly be styl’d Rewards or Punishments, but capricious Distributions of Happiness or Unhappiness to Creatures. These are the only Terms, on which the Belief of a World to come can happily influence the Believer. And on these Terms, and by virtue of this Belief, Man perhaps may retain his Virtue and Integrity, even under the hardest Thoughts of human Nature; when either by any ill Circumstance or untoward Doctrine, he is brought to that unfortunate Opinion of Virtue’s being naturally an Enemy to Happiness in Life.

  This, however, is an Opinion which cannot be suppos’d consistent with sound[72]Theism. For whatever be decided as to a future Life, or the Rewards and Punishments of hereafter; he who, as a sound Theist, believes a reigning Mind, sovereign in Nature, and ruling all things with the highest perfection of Goodness, as well as of Wisdom and Power, must necessarily believe Virtue to be naturally good and advantageous. For what cou’d more strongly imply an unjust Ordinance, a Blot and Imperfection in the general Constitution of Things, than to suppose Virtue the natural Ill, and Vice the natural Good of any Creature?

  Atheism and Theism.And now last of all, there remains for us to consider a yet further Advantage to Virtue, in the Theistical Belief above the Atheistical. The Proposition may at first sight appear over-refin’d, and of a sort which is esteem’d too nicely philosophical. But after what has been already examin’d, the Subject perhaps may be more easily explain’d.

  There is no Creature, according to what has been already prov’d,Effects of each. who must not of necessity be ill in some degree, by having any Affection or Aversion in a stronger degree than is sutable to his own private Good, or that of the System to which he is join’d. For in either Case the Affection is ill and vitious. Now if a ra[73]tional Creature has that Degree of Aversion which is requisite to arm him against any particular Misfortune, and alarm him against the Approach of any Calamity; this is regular and well. But if after the Misfortune is happen’d, his Aversion continues still, and his Passion rather grows upon him; whilst he rages at the Accident, and exclaims against his private Fortune or Lot; this will be acknowledg’d both vitious in present, and for the future; as it affects the Temper, and disturbs that easy Course of the Affections on which Virtue and Goodness so much depend. On the other side, the patient enduring of the Calamity, and the bearing up of the Mind under it, must be acknowledg’d immediately virtuous, and preservative of Virtue. Now,Of Atheism. according to the Hypothesis of those who exclude a general Mind, it must be confess’d, there can nothing happen in the Course of things to deserve either our Admiration, and Love, or our Anger, and Abhorrence. However, as there can be no Satisfaction at the best in thinking upon what Atoms and Chance produce; so upon disasterous Occasions, and under the Circumstances of a calamitous and hard Fortune, ’tis scarce possible to prevent a natural kind of Abhorrence and Spleen, which will be entertain’d and kept alive by the Imagination of so perverse an Order of Things.[74] But in another Hypothesis (that of perfect Theism) it is understood,Of Theism. “That whateverthe Order of the World produces, is in the main both just and good.” Therefore in the Course of Things in this World, whatever Hardship of Events may seem to force from any rational Creature a hard Censure of his private Condition or Lot; he may by Reflection nevertheless, come to have Patience, and to acquiesce in it. Nor is this all. He may go further still in this Reconciliation; and from the same Principle may make the Lot it-self an Object of his good Affection; whilst he strives to maintain this generous Fealty, and stands so well-dispos’d towards the Laws and Government of his higher Country.

  Such an Affection must needs create the highest Constancy in any State of Sufferance, and make us in the best manner support whatever Hardships are to be endur’d for Virtue’s sake. And as this Affection must of necessity cause a greater Acquiescence and Complacency with respect to ill Accidents, ill Men, and Injurys; so of course it cannot fail of producing still a greater Equality, Gentleness, and Benignity in the Temper. Consequently the Affection must be a truly good one, and a Creature the more truly good and virtuous, by possessing it. For[75] whatsoever is the occasion or means of more affectionately uniting a rational Creature to his Part in Society, and causes him to prosecute the publick Good, or Interest of his Species, with more Zeal and Affection than ordinary; is undoubtedly the Cause of more than ordinary Virtue in such a Person.

  Contemplation.This too is certain; That the Admiration and Love of Order, Harmony and Proportion, in whatever kind, is naturally improving to the Temper, advantageous to social Affection, and highly assistant to Virtue; which is it-self no other than the Love of Order and Beauty in Society. In the meanest Subjects of the World, the Appearance of Order gains upon the Mind, and draws the Affection towards it. But if the Order of the World it-self appears just and beautiful; the Admiration and Esteem of Order must run higher, and the elegant Passion or Love of Beauty, which is so advantageous to Virtue, must be the more improv’d by its Exercise in so ample and magnificent a Subject.Religious Affection. For ’tis impossible that such aDivine Order shou’d be contemplated without * Extasy and Rapture; since in the common Subjects of Science, and the liberal Arts, whatever is according to just[76] Harmony and Proportion, is so transporting to those who have any Knowledg or Practice in the kind.

  Now if the Subject and Ground of this divine Passion be not really just or adequate, (the Hypothesis of Theism being suppos’d false) the Passion still in it-self is so far natural and good, as it proves an Advantage to Virtue and Goodness; according to what has been above demonstrated. But if, on the other side, the Subject of this Passion be really adequate and just, (the Hypothesis of Theism being real, and not imaginary) then is the Passion also just, and becomes absolutely due and requisite in every rational Creature.

  Conclusion.HENCE we may determine justly the Relation which Virtue has to Piety; the first being not compleat but in the latter: Since where the latter is wanting, there can neither be the same Benignity, Firmness, or Constancy; the same good Composure of the Affections, or Uniformity of Mind.

  And thus the Perfection and Height of Virtue must be owing to the Belief of aGod.[77]

  Book 2

  PART I

  Sect. 1.SECTION I

  WE have consider’d whatVirtueis, and to whom the Character belongs. It remains to inquire,Obligation to VIRTUE.What Obligation there is toVirtue; or what Reason to embrace it.

  We have found, that to deserve the name of good or virtuous, a Creature must have all his Inclinations and Affections, his Dispositions of Mind and Temper, sutable, and agreeing with the Good of his Kind, or of that System in which he is included, and of which he constitutes a Part. To stand thus well affected, and to have one’s Affections right and intire, not only in respect of one’s self, but of Society and the Publick: This is Rectitude, Integrity, or Virtue. And to be wanting in any of these, or to have their[78] Contrarys, is Depravity, Corruption, and Vice.

  Difficulty stated.It has been already shewn, that in the Passions and Affections of particular Creatures, there is a constant relation to the Interest of a Species, or common Nature. This has been demonstrated in the case of natural Affection, parental Kindness, Zeal for Posterity, Concern for the Propagation and Nurture of the Young, Love of Fellowship and Company, Compassion, mutual Succour, and the rest of this kind. Nor will any-one deny that this Affection of a Creature towards the Good of the Species or common Nature, is as proper and natural to him, as it is to any Organ, Part or Member of an Animal-Body, or mere Vegetable, to work in its known Course, and regular way of Growth. ’Tis not more natural for the Stomach to digest, the Lungs to breathe, the Glands to separate Juices, or other Intrails to perform their several Offices; however they may by particular Impediments be sometimes disorder’d, or obstructed in their Operations.

  There being allow’d therefore in a Creature such Affections as these towards the common Nature,Union with a Kind or Species. or System of the Kind, together with those other which regard the private Nature, or Self-system; it will appear that in following the first of these A[79]ffections, the Creature must on many Occasions contradict and go against the latter. How else shou’d the Species be preserv’d? Or what wou’d signify that implanted natural Affection, by which a Creature thro’ so many Difficultys and Hazards preserves its Offspring, and supports its Kind?

  Opposition from Self-interest.It may therefore be imagin’d, perhaps, that there is a plain and absolute Opposition between these two Habits or Affections. It may be presum’d, that the pursuing the common Interest or publick Good thro’ the Affections of one kind, must be a hindrance to the Attainment of private Good thro’ the Affections of another. For it being taken for granted, that Hazards and Hardships, of whatever sort, are naturally the Ill of the private State; and it being certainly the Nature of those publick Affections to lead often to the greatest Hardships and Hazards of every kind; ’tis presently infer’d, “That ’tis the Creature’s Interest to be without any publick Affection whatsoever.”

  This we know for certain; That all social Love, Friendship, Gratitude, or whatever else is of this generous kind, does by its nature take place of the self-interesting Passions, draws us out of our-selves, and makes us disregardful of our own Convenience and Safety. So that[80] according to a known * way of reasoning on Self-interest, that which is of a social kind in us, shou’d of right be abolish’d. Thus Kindness of every sort, Indulgence, Tenderness, Compassion, and in short, all natural Affection shou’d be industriously suppress’d, and, as mere Folly, and Weakness of Nature, be resisted and overcome; that, by this means, there might be nothing remaining in us, which was contrary to a direct Self-end; nothing which might stand in opposition to a steddy and deliberate Pursuit of the most narrowly confin’d Self-interest.

  According to this extraordinary Hypothesis, it must be taken for granted, “That in the System of a Kind or Species, the Interest of the private Nature is directly opposite to that of the common one; the Interest of Particulars directly opposite to that of the Publick in general.”—A strange Constitution! in which it must be confess’d there is much Disorder and Untowardness; unlike to what we observe elsewhere in Nature. As if in any vegetable or animal Body, the Part or Member cou’d be suppos’d in a good and prosperous State as to it-self, when under a contrary Disposition, and in an unnatural Growth or Habit as to itsWhole.[81]

  Reconciliation.Now that this is in reality quite otherwise, we shall endeavour to demonstrate; so as to make appear, “That what Men represent as an ill Order and Constitution in the Universe, by making moral Rectitude appear the Ill, and Depravity the Good or Advantage of a Creature, is in Nature just the contrary. That to be well affected towards the Publick Interest and one’s own, is not only consistent, but inseparable: and that moral Rectitude, or Virtue, must accordingly be the Advantage, and Vice the Injury and Disadvantage of every Creature.”

  Sect. 2.SECTION II

  Contradictory Notions.THERE are few perhaps, who when they consider a Creature void of natural Affection, and wholly destitute of a communicative or social Principle, will suppose him, at the same time, either tolerably happy in himself, or as he stands abroad, with respect to his Fellow-Creatures or Kind. ’Tis generally thought, that such a Creature as this, feels slender Joy in Life, and finds little Satisfaction in the mere sensual Pleasures which remain with him, after the Loss of social Enjoyment, and whatever can be call’d Humanity or Good-nature. We know that to such[82] a Creature as this, ’tis not only incident, to be morose, rancorous and malignant;Dissolute or immoral State. but that, of necessity, a Mind or Temper thus destitute of Mildness and Benignity, must turn to that which is contrary, and be wrought by Passions of a different kind. Such a Heart as this must be a continual Seat of perverse Inclinations and bitter Aversions, rais’d from a constant ill Humour, Sourness, and Disquiet. The Consciousness of such a Nature, so obnoxious to Mankind, and to all Beings which approach it, must overcloud the Mind with dark Suspicion and Jealousy, alarm it with Fears and Horror, and raise in it a continual Disturbance, even in the most seeming fair and secure State of Fortune, and in the highest degree of outward Prosperity.

  In whole.This, as to the compleat immoral State, is what, of their own accord, Men readily remark. Where there is this absolute Degeneracy, this total Apostacy from all Candour, Equity, Trust, Sociableness, or Friendship; there are few who do not see and acknowledg the Misery which is consequent. Seldom is the Case misconstru’d, when at worst. The misfortune is, we look not on this Depravity,In part. nor consider how it stands, in less degrees. The Calamity, we think, does not of necessity hold proportion with the Injustice or Iniquity. As if to be absolutely immoral and[83] inhuman, were indeed the greatest misfortune and misery; but that to be so, in a little degree, shou’d be no misery nor harm at all! Which to allow, is just as reasonable as to own, that ’tis the greatest Ill of a Body to be in the utmost manner distorted and maim’d; but that to lose the use only of one Limb, or to be impair’d in some one single Organ or Member, is no Inconvenience or Ill worthy the least notice.

  Inward Proportion.The Parts and Proportions of the Mind, their mutual Relation and Dependency, the Connexion and Frame of those Passions which constitute the Soul or Temper, may easily be understood by any-one who thinks it worth his while to study this inward Anatomy. ’Tis certain that the Order or Symmetry of this inward Part is, in it-self, no less real and exact, than that of the Body. However, ’tis apparent that few of us endeavour to become Anatomists of this sort. Nor is any-one asham’d of the deepest Ignorance in such a Subject. For tho the greatest Misery and Ill is generally own’d to be from Disposition, and Temper; tho ’tis allow’d that Temper may often change, and that it actually varys on many occasions, much to our disadvantage; yet how this Matter is brought about, we inquire not. We never trouble our-selves to consider thorowly by what means or methods our inward Constitution comes at[84] any time to be impair’d or injur’d. The Solutio Continui,Continuity. which bodily Surgeons talk of, is never apply’d in this case, by Surgeons of another sort. The Notion of a Whole and Parts is not apprehended in this Science. We know not what the effect is, of straining any Affection, indulging any wrong Passion, or relaxing any proper and natural Habit, or good Inclination. Nor can we conceive how a particular Action shou’d have such a sudden Influence on the whole Mind, as to make the Person an immediate Sufferer. We suppose rather that a Man may violate his Faith, commit any Wickedness unfamiliar to him before, engage in any Vice or Villany, without the least prejudice to himself, or any Misery naturally following from the ill Action.

  ’Tis thus we hear it often said, “Such a Person has done ill indeed: But what is he the worse for it?” Yet speaking of any Nature thorowly savage, curst, and inveterate, we say truly, “Such a one is a plague and torment to himself”: And we allow, “That thro’ certain Humours, or Passions, and from Temper merely, a Man may be compleately miserable; let his outward Circumstances be ever so fortunate.” These different Judgments sufficiently demonstrate that we are not accustom’d to think with much cohe[85]rency on these moral Subjects; and that our Notions, in this respect, are not a little confus’d, and contradictory.

  Fabrick or System of the Affections.Now if the Fabrick of the Mind or Temper appear’d such to us as it really is; if we saw it impossible to remove hence any one good or orderly Affection, or introduce any ill or disorderly one, without drawing on, in some degree, that dissolute State, which at its height is confess’d to be so miserable: ’twou’d then undoubtedly be own’d, that since no ill, immoral, or unjust Action cou’d be committed without either a new inroad and breach on the Temper and Passions, or a farther advancing of that Execution already begun; whoever did ill, or acted in prejudice of his Integrity, Good-nature, or Worth, wou’d of necessity act with greater Cruelty towards himself, than he who scrupled not to swallow what was poisonous, or who with his own hands shou’d voluntarily mangle or wound his outward Form or Constitution, natural Limbs or Body.[86]

  Sect. 3.SECTION III

  SYSTEM explain’d.IT has been shewn before, that no Animal can be said properly to act, otherwise than thro’ Affections or Passions, such as are proper to an Animal. For in convulsive Fits, where a Creature strikes either himself or others, ’tis a simple Mechanism, an Engine, or Piece of Clock-work, which acts, and not the Animal.

  Spring of Actions.Whatsoever therefore is done or acted by any Animal as such, is done only thro’ some Affection or Passion, as of Fear, Love, or Hatred moving him.

  And as it is impossible that a weaker Affection shou’d overcome a stronger, so it is impossible but that where the Affections or Passions are strongest in the main, and form in general the most considerable Party, either by their Force or Number; thither the Animal must incline: And according to this Balance he must be govern’d, and led to Action.

  Affections, three kinds.The Affections or Passions which must influence and govern the Animal, are either,

  • 1.Thenatural Affections, which lead to the Good of The Publick.[87]
  • 2.Or the Self-affections, which lead only to the Good of The Private.
  • 3.Or such as are neither of these; nor tending either to any Good of the Publick or Private; but contrary-wise: and which may therefore be justly styl’d unnatural Affections.

  So that according as these Affections stand, a Creature must be virtuous or vitious, good or ill.

  The latter sort of these Affections, ’tis evident, are wholly vitious. The two former may be vitious or virtuous, according to their degree.

  It may seem strange, perhaps, to speak of natural Affections as too strong,Degrees of Affection. or of Self-affections as too weak. But to clear this Difficulty, we must call to mind what has been already explain’d, “That natural Affection may, in particular Cases, be excessive, and in an unnatural degree”: As when Pity is so overcoming as to destroy its own End, and prevent the Succour and Relief requir’d; or as when Love to the Offspring proves such a Fondness as destroys the Parent, and consequently the Offspring it-self. And notwithstanding it may seem harsh[88] to call that unnatural and vitious, which is only an Extreme of some natural and kind Affection; yet ’tis most certain, that where-ever any single good Affection of this sort is over-great, it must be injurious to the rest, and detract in some measure from their Force and natural Operation. For a Creature possess’d with such an immoderate Degree of Passion, must of necessity allow too much to that one, and too little to others of the same Character, and equally natural and useful as to their End. And this must necessarily be the occasion of Partiality and Injustice, whilst only one Duty or natural Part is earnestly follow’d; and other Parts or Dutys neglected, which shou’d accompany it, and perhaps take place and be prefer’d.

  This may well be allow’d true in all other respects; since even Religion it-self, consider’d as a Passion, not of the selfish but nobler kind, may in some Characters be strain’d beyond its natural Proportion, and be said also to be in too high a degree. For as the End of Religion is to render us more perfect, and accomplish’d in all moral Dutys and Performances; if by the height of devout Extasy and Contemplation we are rather disabled in this respect, and render’d more unapt to the real Dutys and Offices of civil Life; it may be said that Religion indeed is then too strong[89] in us. For how, possibly, can we call this Superstition, whilst the Object of the Devotion is acknowledg’d just, and the Faith orthodox? ’Tis only the Excess of Zeal, which, in this Case, is so transporting, as to render the devout Person more remiss in secular Affairs, and less concern’d for the inferior and temporal Interests of Mankind.

  Now as in particular Cases, publick Affection, on the one hand, may be too high; so private Affection may, on the other hand, be too weak. For if a Creature be self-neglectful, and insensible of Danger; or if he want such a degree of Passion in any kind, as is useful to preserve, sustain, or defend himself; this must certainly be esteem’d vitious, in regard of the Design and End of Nature. She her-self discovers this in her known Method and stated Rule of Operation. ’Tis certain, that her provisionary Care and Concern for the whole Animal, must at least be equal to her Concern for a single Part or Member. Now to the several Parts she has given, we see proper Affections, sutable to their Interest and Security; so that even without our Consciousness, they act in their own Defense, and for their own Benefit and Preservation. Thus an Eye, in its natural State, fails not to shut together, of its own accord, unknowingly to us, by a[90] peculiar Caution and Timidity; which if it wanted, however we might intend the Preservation of our Eye, we shou’d not in effect be able to preserve it, by any Observation or Forecast of our own. To be wanting therefore in those principal Affections, which respect the Good of the whole Constitution, must be a Vice and Imperfection, as great surely in the principal part, (the Soul or Temper) as it is in any of those inferior and subordinate parts, to want the self-preserving Affections which are proper to them.

  And thus the Affections towards private Good become necessary and essential to Goodness. For tho no Creature can be call’d good, or virtuous, merely for possessing these Affections; yet since it is impossible that the publick Good, or Good of the System, can be preserv’d without them; it follows that a Creature really wanting in them, is in reality wanting in some degree to Goodness and natural Rectitude; and may thus be esteem’d vitious and defective.

  ’Tis thus we say of a Creature, in a kind way of Reproof, that he is too good; when his Affection towards others is so warm and zealous, as to carry him even beyond his Part; or when he really acts beyond it, not thro’ too warm a Passion[91] of that sort, but thro’ an over-cool one of another, or thro’ want of some Self-passion to restrain him within due Bounds.

  It may be objected here, that the having the natural Affections too strong, (where the Self-affections are over-much so) or the having the Self-affections defective or weak, (where the natural Affections are also weak) may prove upon occasion the only Cause of a Creature’s acting honestly and in moral proportion. For, thus, one who is to a fault regardless of his Life, may with the smallest degree of natural Affection do all which can be expected from the highest Pitch of social Love, or zealous Friendship. And thus, on the other hand, a Creature excessively timorous may, by as exceeding a degree of natural Affection, perform whatever the perfectest Courage is able to inspire.

  To this it is answer’d, That whenever we arraign any Passion as too strong, or complain of any as too weak; we must speak with respect to a certain Constitution or OEconomy of a particular Creature, or Species. For if a Passion, leading to any right end, be only so much the more serviceable and effectual, for being strong; if we may be assur’d that the strength of it will not be the occasion of any distur[92]bance within, nor of any disproportion between it-self and other Affections; then consequently the Passion, however strong, cannot be condemn’d as vitious. But if to have all the Passions in equal proportion with it, be what the Constitution of the Creature cannot bear; so that only some Passions are rais’d to this height, whilst others are not, nor can possibly be wrought up to the same proportion; then may those strong Passions, tho of the better kind, be call’d excessive. For being in unequal proportion to the others, and causing an ill Balance in the Affection at large, they must of course be the occasion of Inequality in the Conduct, and incline the Party to a wrong moral Practice.

  OEconomy of the Passions.But to shew more particularly what is meant by the OEconomy of the Passions, from Instances in the Species or * Kinds below us. As for the Creatures who have no manner of Power or Means given them by Nature for their defense against Violence, nor any-thing by which they can make themselves formidable to such as injure or offend them; ’tis necessary they shou’d have an extraordinary degree of Fear, but little or no Animosity, such as might cause ’em to make resistance, or incline ’em to delay their Flight. For in this their Safety[93] lies, and to this the Passion of Fear is serviceable, by keeping the Senses on the watch, and holding the Spirits in readiness to give the start.

  And thus Timorousness, and an habitual strong Passion of Fear, may be according to the OEconomy of a particular Creature, both with respect to himself, and to the rest of his Species. On the other hand, Courage may be contrary to his OEconomy, and therefore vitious. Even in one and the same Species, this is by Nature differently order’d, with respect to different Sexes, Ages, and Growths. The tamer Creatures of the grazing kind, who live in Herds, are different from the wilder, who herd not, but live in Pairs only, apart from Company, as is natural and sutable to their rapacious Life. Yet is there found, even among the former inoffensive kind, a Courage proportionable to their Make and Strength. At a time of danger, when the whole Herd flies, the Bull alone makes head against the Lion, or whatever other invading Beast of Prey, and shews himself conscious of his Make. Even the Female of this kind is arm’d, we see, by Nature, in some degree, to resist Violence; so as not to fly a common Danger. As for a Hind, or Doe, or any other inoffensive and mere defenceless Creature; ’tis no way unnatural or vitious in them, when the Enemy approaches, to[94] desert their Offspring, and fly for Safety. But for Creatures who are able to make Resistance, and are by Nature arm’d offensively; be they of the poorest Insect-kind, such as Bees or Wasps; ’tis natural to ’em to be rouz’d with Fury, and at the hazard of their Lives, oppose any Enemy or Invader of their Species. For by this known Passion in the Creature, the Species it-self is secur’d; when by Experience ’tis found that the Creature, tho unable to repel the Injury, yet voluntarily exposes his Life for the Punishment of the Invader; and suffers not his Kind to be injur’d with Impunity. And of all other Creatures, Man is in this Sense the most formidable: since if he thinks it just and exemplary, he may possibly in his own, or in his Country’s Cause, revenge an Injury on any-one living; and by throwing away his own Life (if he be resolute to that degree) is almost certain Master of another’s, however strongly guarded. Examples of this nature have often serv’d to restrain those in Power, from using it to the utmost Extent, and urging their Inferiors to Extremity.

  Measure. Tone.Upon the whole: It may be said properly to be the same with the Affections or Passions in an Animal-Constitution, as with the Cords or Strings of a Musical Instrument. If these, tho in ever so just proportion one to another, are strain’d be[95]yond a certain degree, ’tis more than the Instrument will bear: The Lute or Lyre is abus’d, and its Effect lost. On the other hand, if while some of the Strings are duly strain’d, others are not wound up to their due proportion; then is the Instrument still in disorder, and its Part ill perform’d. The several Species of Creatures are like different sorts of Instruments: And even in the same Species of Creatures (as in the same sort of Instrument) one is not intirely like the other, nor will the same Strings fit each. The same degree of Strength which winds up one, and fits the several Strings to a just Harmony and Concert, may in another burst both the Strings and Instrument it-self. Thus Men who have the liveliest Sense, and are the easiest affected with Pain or Pleasure, have need of the strongest Influence or Force of other Affections, such as Tenderness, Love, Sociableness, Compassion, in order to preserve a rightBalancewithin,Balance. and to maintain them in their Duty, and in the just performance of their Part: whilst others, who are of a cooler Blood, or lower Key, need not the same Allay or Counterpart; nor are made by Nature to feel those tender and indearing Affections in so exquisite a degree.

  It might be agreeable, one wou’d think, to inquire thus into the different Tunings[96] of the Passions, the various Mixtures and Allays by which Men become so different from one another.TEMPER. For as the highest Improvements of Temper are made in human kind;Best or worst in Man. so the greatest Corruptions and Degeneracys are discoverable in this Race. In the other Species of Creatures around us, there is found generally an exact Proportionableness, Constancy and Regularity in all their Passions and Affections; no failure in the care of the Offspring, or of the Society, to which they are united; no Prostitution of themselves; no Intemperance, or Excess, in any kind. The smaller Creatures, who live as it were in Citys (as Bees and Ants) continue the same Train and Harmony of Life: Nor are they ever false to those Affections, which move them to operate towards their Publick Good. Even those Creatures of Prey, who live the farthest out of Society, maintain, we see, such a Conduct towards one another, as is exactly sutable to the Good of their own Species. Whilst Man, notwithstanding the Assistance of Religion, and the Direction of Laws, is often found to live in less conformity with Nature; and, by means of Religion it-self, is often render’d the more barbarous and inhuman. Marks are set on Men: Distinctions form’d: Opinions decreed, under the severest Penaltys: Antipathys instill’d, and Aversions rais’d in Men a[97]gainst the generality of their own Species. So that ’tis hard to find in any Region a human Society which has human Laws. No wonder if in such Societys ’tis so hard to find a Man who lives naturally, and as a Man.

  State of the Argument.BUT having shewn what is meant by a Passion’s being in too high, or in too low a degree; and that,“To have any natural Affection too high, or any Self-affection too low,” tho it be often approv’d as Virtue, is yet, strictly speaking, a Vice and Imperfection: we come now to the plainer and more essential part of Vice, and which alone deserves to be consider’d as such: that is to say.

  • 1. “Wheneither the publick Affections are weak or deficient.”
  • 2. “Or the private and Self-affections too strong.”
  • 3. “Or that such Affections arise as are neither of these, nor in any degree tending to the Support either of the publick or private System.”

  Otherwise than thus, it is impossible any Creature can be such as we call ill or vitious. So that if once we[98] prove that it is really not the Creature’s Interest to be thus vitiously affected, but contrariwise; we shall then have prov’d, “That it is his Interest to be wholly Good and Virtuous”: Since in a wholesom and sound State of his Affections, such as we have describ’d, he cannot possibly be other than sound, good and virtuous, in his Action and Behaviour.

  Our Business, therefore, will be, to prove;

  • I. “Thatto havethe Natural, Kindly,orGenerous Affectionsstrong and powerful towards the Good of the Publick, is to have the chief Means and Power of Self-enjoyment.” And, “That to want them, is certain Misery and Ill.”
  • II. “Thatto havethe PrivateorSelf-affectionstoo strong, or beyond their degree of Subordinacy to the kindly and natural, is also miserable.”
  • III.And, “That to havethe Unnatural Affections (viz. such as are neither founded on the Interest of the Kind, or Publick; nor of the private Person, or Creature himself) is to be miserable in the highest degree.”[99]

  PART II

  Sect. 1.SECTION I

  FIRST Proof, from the natural Affections.TO begin therefore with this Proof, “That to have the Natural Affections (such as are founded in Love, Complacency, Good-will, and in a Sympathy with the Kind or Species) is to have the chief Means and Power of Self-enjoyment:AndThat to want them is certain Misery and Ill.”

  We may inquire, first, what those are, which we call Pleasures or Satisfactions;Pleasures of the BODY and MIND. from whence Happiness is generally computed. They are (according to the common distinction) Satisfactions and Pleasures either of the Body, or of the Mind.

  The latter preferable.That the latter of these Satisfactionsare the greatest, is allow’d by most People, and may be prov’d by this: That whenever the Mind, having conceiv’d a high[100] Opinion of the Worth of any Action or Behaviour, has receiv’d the strongest Impression of this sort, and is wrought up to the highest pitch or degree of Passion towards the Subject; at such time it sets itself above all bodily Pain as well as Pleasure, and can be no-way diverted from its purpose by Flattery or Terror of any kind. Thus we see Indians, Barbarians, Malefactors, and even the most execrable Villains, for the sake of a particular Gang or Society, or thro’ some cherish’d Notion or Principle of Honour or Gallantry, Revenge, or Gratitude, embrace any manner of Hardship, and defy Torments and Death. Whereas, on the other hand, a Person being plac’d in all the happy Circumstances of outward Enjoyment, surrounded with every thing which can allure or charm the Sense, and being then actually in the very moment of such a pleasing Indulgence; yet no sooner is there any thing amiss within, no sooner has he conceiv’d any internal Ail or Disorder, any thing inwardly vexatious or distemper’d, than instantly his Enjoyment ceases, the pleasure of Sense is at an end; and every means of that sort becomes ineffectual, and is rejected as uneasy, and subject to give Distaste.

  Inference.The Pleasures of the Mind being allow’d, therefore, superior, to those of the[101]Body; it follows, “That whatever can create in any intelligent Being a constant flowing Series or Train of mental Enjoyments, or Pleasures of the Mind, is more considerable to his Happiness, than that which can create to him a like constant Course or Train of sensual Enjoyments, or Pleasures of the Body.”

  Mental Enjoyments, whence.Now the mental Enjoyments are either actually the very natural Affections themselves in their immediate Operation: Or they wholly in a manner proceed from them, and are no other than their Effects.

  If so; it follows, that the natural Affections duly establish’d in a rational Creature, being the only means which can procure him a constant Series or Succession of the mental Enjoyments, they are the only means which can procure him a certain and solid Happiness.

  Energy of natural Affections.NOW, in the first place, to explain, “How much the natural Affections are in themselves the highest Pleasures and Enjoyments”: There shou’d methinks be little need of proving this to any-one of human Kind, who has ever known the Condition of the Mind under a lively Affection of Love, Gratitude, Bounty, Generosity, Pity, Succour, or whatever else is of a so[102]cial or friendly sort. He who has ever so little Knowledg of human Nature, is sensible what pleasure the Mind perceives when it is touch’d in this generous way. The difference we find between Solitude and Company, between a common Company and that of Friends; the reference of almost all our Pleasures to mutual Converse, and the dependence they have on Society either present or imagin’d; all these are sufficient Proofs in our behalf.

  How much the social Pleasures are superior to any other, may be known by visible Tokens and Effects. The very outward Features, the Marks and Signs which attend this sort of Joy, are expressive of a more intense, clear, and undisturb’d Pleasure, than those which attend the Satisfaction of Thirst, Hunger, and other ardent Appetites. But more particularly still may this Superiority be known, from the actual Prevalence and Ascendency of this sort of Affection over all besides. Where-ever it presents it-self with any advantage, it silences and appeases every other Motion of Pleasure. No Joy, merely of Sense, can be a Match for it. Whoever is Judg of both the Pleasures, will ever give the preference to the former. But to be able to judg of both, ’tis necessary to have a Sense of each. The honest Man indeed can judg of sensual Pleasure, and knows its[103] utmost Force. For neither is his Taste, or Sense the duller; but, on the contrary, the more intense and clear, on the account of his Temperance, and a moderate Use of Appetite. But the immoral and profligate Man can by no means be allow’d a good Judg of social Pleasure, to which he is so mere a Stranger by his Nature.

  Nor is it any Objection here; That in many Natures the good Affection, tho really present, is found to be of insufficient force. For where it is not in its natural degree, ’tis the same indeed as if it were not, or had never been. The less there is of this good Affection in any untoward Creature, the greater the wonder is, that it shou’d at any time prevail; as in the very worst of Creatures it sometimes will. And if it prevails but for once, in any single Instance; it shews evidently, that if the Affection were thorowly experienc’d or known, it wou’d prevail in all.

  Thus theCharm of kind Affection is superior to all other Pleasure: since it has the power of drawing from every other Appetite or Inclination. And thus in the Case of Love to the Offspring, and a thousand other Instances, the Charm is found to operate so strongly on the Temper, as, in the midst of other Temptations, to render it susceptible of this[104] Passion alone; which remains as the Master-Pleasure and Conqueror of the rest.

  There is no-one who, by the least progress in Science or Learning, has come to know barely the Principles of Mathematicks, but has found, that in the exercise of his Mind on the Discoverys he there makes, tho merely of speculative Truths, he receives a Pleasure and Delight superior to that of Sense. When we have thorowly search’d into the nature of this contemplative Delight, we shall find it of a kind which relates not in the least to any private Interest of the Creature, nor has for its Object any Self-good or Advantage of the private System. The Admiration, Joy, or Love, turns wholly upon what is exterior, and foreign to our-selves. And tho the reflected Joy or Pleasure, which arises from the notice of this Pleasure once perceiv’d, may be interpreted a Self-passion, or interested Regard: yet the original Satisfaction can be no other than what results from the Love of Truth, Proportion, Order, and Symmetry, in the Things without. If this be the Case, the Passion ought in reality to be rank’d with natural Affection. For having no Object within the compass of the private System; it must either be esteem’d superfluous and unnatural, (as having no tendency towards the Advantage or Good of[105] any thing in Nature) or it must be judg’d to be, what it truly is, * “A natural Joy in the Contemplation of those Numbers, that Harmony, Proportion, and Concord, which supports the universal Nature, and is essential in the Constitution and Form of every particular Species, or Order of Beings.”

  But this speculative Pleasure, however considerable and valuable it may be, or however superior to any Motion of mere Sense; must yet be far surpass’d by virtuous Motion, and the Exercise of Benignity and Goodness; where, together with the most delightful Affection of the Soul, there is join’d a pleasing Assent and Approbation of the Mind to what is acted in this good Disposition and honest Bent. For where is there on Earth a fairer Matter of Speculation, a goodlier View or Contemplation, than that of a beautiful, proportion’d, and becoming Action? Or what is there relating to us, of which the Consciousness and Memory is more solidly and lastingly entertaining?

  We may observe, that in the Passion of Love between the Sexes, where, together with the Affection of a vulgar sort, there is a mixture of the kind and friendly, the Sense or Feeling of this latter is[106] in reality superior to the former; since often thro’ this Affection, and for the sake of the Person belov’d, the greatest Hardships in the World have been submitted to, and even Death it-self voluntarily imbrac’d, without any expected Compensation. For where shou’d the Ground of such an Expectation lie? Not here, in this World surely; for Death puts an end to all. Nor yet hereafter, in any other: for who has ever thought of providing a Heaven or future Recompence for the suffering Virtue of Lovers?

  We may observe, withal, in favour of the natural Affections, that it is not only when Joy and Sprightliness are mix’d with them that they carry a real Enjoyment above that of the sensual kind. The very Disturbances which belong to natural Affection, tho they may be thought wholly contrary to Pleasure, yield still a Contentment and Satisfaction greater than the Pleasures of indulg’d Sense. And where a Series or continu’d Succession of the tender and kind Affections can be carry’d on, even thro’ Fears, Horrors, Sorrows, Griefs; the Emotion of the Soul is still agreeable. We continue pleas’d even with this melancholy Aspect or Sense of Virtue. Her Beauty supports it-self under a Cloud, and in the midst of surrounding Calamitys. For thus, when by mere Illu[107]sion, as in a Tragedy, the Passions of this kind are skilfully excited in us; we prefer the Entertainment to any other of equal duration. We find by our-selves, that the moving our Passions in this mournful way, the engaging them in behalf of Merit and Worth, and the exerting whatever we have of social Affection, and human Sympathy, is of the highest Delight; and affords a greater Enjoyment in the way of Thought and Sentiment, than any thing besides can do in a way of Sense and common Appetite. And after this manner it appears, “How much the mental Enjoyments are actually the very natural Affections themselves.”

  Effects of natural Affection.NOW, in the next place, to explain, “How they proceed from them, as their natural Effects”; we may consider first, That the Effects of Love or kind Affection, in a way of mental Pleasure, are, “An Enjoyment of Good by Communication: A receiving it, as it were by Reflection, or by way of Participation in the Good of others”: And “A pleasing Consciousness of the actual Love, merited Esteem or Approbation of others.”

  How considerable a part of Happiness arises from the former of these Effects, will be easily apprehended by one who is not[108] exceedingly ill natur’d. It will be consider’d how many the Pleasures are, of sharing Contentment and Delight with others; of receiving it in Fellowship and Company; and gathering it, in a manner, from the pleas’d and happy States of those around us, from accounts and relations of such Happinesses, from the very Countenances, Gestures, Voices and Sounds, even of Creatures foreign to our Kind, whose Signs of Joy and Contentment we can anyway discern. So insinuating are these Pleasures of Sympathy, and so widely diffus’d thro’ our whole Lives, that there is hardly such a thing as Satisfaction or Contentment, of which they make not an essential part.

  As for that other Effect of social Love, viz. the Consciousness of merited Kindness or Esteem; ’tis not difficult to perceive how much this avails in mental Pleasure, and constitutes the chief Enjoyment and Happiness of those who are, in the narrowest sense, voluptuous. How natural is it for the most selfish among us, to be continually drawing some sort of Satisfaction from a Character, and pleasing our-selves in the Fancy of deserv’d Admiration and Esteem? For tho it be mere Fancy, we endeavour still to believe it Truth; and flatter our-selves, all we can, with the Thought of Merit of some kind, and the Persuasion[109] of our deserving well from some few at least, with whom we happen to have a more intimate and familiar Commerce.

  What Tyrant is there, what Robber, or open Violater of the Laws of Society, who has not a Companion, or some particular Set, either of his own Kindred, or such as he calls Friends; with whom he gladly shares his Good; in whose Welfare he delights; and whose Joy and Satisfaction he makes his own? What Person in the world is there, who receives not some Impressions from the Flattery or Kindness of such as are familiar with him? ’Tis to this soothing Hope and Expectation of Friendship, that almost all our Actions have some reference. ’Tis this which goes thro’ our whole Lives, and mixes it-self even with most of our Vices. Of this, Vanity, Ambition, and Luxury, have a share; and many other Disorders of our Life partake. Even the unchastest Love borrows largely from this Source. So that were Pleasure to be computed in the same way as other things commonly are; it might properly be said, that out of these two Branches (viz. Community or Participation in the Pleasures of others, and Belief of meriting well from others) wou’d arise more than nine Tenths of whatever is enjoy’d in Life. And thus in the main Sum of Happiness, there is scarce a single Article, but what[110] derives it-self from social Love, and depends immediately on the natural and kind Affections.

  Now such as Causes are, such must be their Effects. And therefore as natural Affection or social Love is perfect, or imperfect; so must be the Content and Happiness depending on it.

  Partial Affection examin’d.BUT lest any shou’d imagine with themselves that an inferior Degree of natural Affection, or an imperfect partial Regard of this sort, can supply the place of an intire, sincere, and truly moral one; lest a small Tincture of social Inclination shou’d be thought sufficient to answer the End of Pleasure in Society, and give us that Enjoyment of Participation and Community which is so essential to our Happiness; we may consider first, That Partial Affection, or social Love in part, without regard to a compleat Society or Whole, is in it-self an Inconsistency, and implies an absolute Contradiction. Whatever Affection we have towards any thing besides our-selves; if it be not of the natural sort towards the System, or Kind; it must be, of all other Affections, the most dissociable, and destructive of the Enjoyments of Society: If it be really of the natural sort, and apply’d only to some one Part of So[111]ciety, or of a Species, but not to the Species or Society it-self; there can be no more account given of it, than of the most odd, capricious, or humoursom Passion which may arise. The Person, therefore, who is conscious of this Affection, can be conscious of no Merit or Worth on the account of it. Nor can the Persons on whom this capricious Affection has chanc’d to fall, be in any manner secure of its Continuance or Force. As it has no Foundation or Establishment in Reason; so it must be easily removable, and subject to alteration, without Reason. Now the Variableness of such sort of Passion, which depends solely on Capriciousness and Humour, and undergoes the frequent Successions of alternate Hatred and Love, Aversion and Inclination, must of necessity create continual Disturbance and Disgust, give an allay to what is immediately enjoy’d in the way of Friendship and Society, and in the end extinguish, in a manner, the very Inclination towards Friendship and human Commerce. Whereas, on the other hand, Intire Affection (from whence Integrity has its name) as it is answerable to it-self, proportionable, and rational; so it is irrefragable, solid, and durable. And as in the case of Partiality, or vitious Friendship, which has no rule or order, every Reflection of the Mind necessarily makes to its disadvantage, and lessens the Enjoyment;[112] so in the case of Integrity, the Consciousness of just Behaviour towards Mankind in general,Partial Affection. casts a good reflection on each friendly Affection in particular, and raises the Enjoyment of Friendship still the higher, in the way of Community or Participation above-mention’d.

  And in the next place, as partial Affection is fitted only to a short and slender Enjoyment of those Pleasures of Sympathy or Participation with others; so neither is it able to derive any considerable Enjoyment from that other principal Branch of human Happiness, viz. Consciousness of the actual or merited Esteem of others. From whence shou’d this Esteem arise? The Merit, surely, must in it-self be mean, whilst the Affection is so precarious and uncertain. What Trust can there be to a mere casual Inclination or capricious Liking? Who can depend on such a Friendship as is founded on no moral Rule, but fantastically assign’d to some single Person, or small Part of Mankind, exclusive of Society, and the Whole?

  It may be consider’d, withal, as a thing impossible; that they who esteem or love by any other Rule than that of Virtue, shou’d place their Affection on such Subjects as they can long esteem or love. ’Twill be hard for them, in the number of[113] their so belov’d Friends, to find any, in whom they can heartily rejoice; or whose reciprocal Love or Esteem they can sincerely prize and enjoy. Nor can those Pleasures be sound or lasting, which are gather’d from a Self-flattery, and false Persuasion of the Esteem and Love of others, who are incapable of any sound Esteem or Love. It appears therefore how much the Men of narrow or partial Affection must be Losers in this sense, and of necessity fall short in this second principal part of mental Enjoyment.

  Intire Affection.Mean while intire Affection has all the opposite advantages. It is equal, constant, accountable to it-self, ever satisfactory, and pleasing. It gains Applause and Love from the best; and in all disinterested cases, from the very worst of Men. We may say of it, with justice, that it carrys with it a Consciousness of merited Love and Approbation from all Society, from all intelligent Creatures, and from whatever is original to all other Intelligence. And if there be in Nature any such Original; we may add, that the Satisfaction which attends intire Affection, is full and noble, in proportion to its final Object, which contains all Perfection; according to the Sense of Theism above-noted. For this, as has been shewn, is the result of Virtue. And to have this intire Affection or Integrity[114] of Mind, is to live according to Nature, and the Dictates and Rules of supreme Wisdom. This is Morality, Justice, Piety, and natural Religion.

  BUT lest this Argument shou’d appear perhaps too scholastically stated, and in Terms and Phrases, which are not of familiar use; we may try whether possibly we can set it yet in a plainer light.

  Let any-one, then, consider well those Pleasures which he receives either in private Retirement, Contemplation, Study, and Converse with himself; or in Mirth, Jollity, and Entertainment with others; and he will find, That they are wholly founded in An easy Temper, free of Harshness,Mind and Temper.Bitterness, or Distaste; and in A Mind or Reason well compos’d, quiet, easy within it-self, and such as can freely bear its own Inspection and Review. Now such a Mind, and such a Temper, which fit and qualify for the Enjoyment of the Pleasures mention’d, must of necessity be owing to the natural and good Affections.

  TEMPER.As to what relates to Temper, it may be consider’d thus. There is no State of outward Prosperity, or flowing Fortune, where Inclination and Desire are always satisfy’d, Fancy and Humour pleas’d.[115] There are almost hourly some Impediments or Crosses to the Appetite; some Accidents or other from without; or something from within, to check the licentious Course of the indulg’d Affections. They are not always to be satisfy’d by mere Indulgence. And when a Life is guided by Fancy only, there is sufficient ground of Contrariety and Disturbance. The very ordinary Lassitudes, Uneasinesses, and Defects of Disposition in the soundest Body; the interrupted Course of the Humours, or Spirits, in the healthiest People; and the accidental Disorders common to every Constitution, are sufficient, we know, on many occasions, to breed Uneasiness and Distaste. And this, in time, must grow into a Habit; where there is nothing to oppose its progress, and hinder its prevailing on the Temper. Now the only sound Opposite to Ill Humour, is natural and kind Affection. For we may observe, that when the Mind, upon reflection, resolves at any time to suppress this Disturbance already risen in the Temper, and sets about this reforming Work with heartiness, and in good earnest; it can no otherwise accomplish the Undertaking, than by introducing into the affectionate Part some gentle Feeling of the social and friendly kind; some enlivening Motion of Kindness, Fellowship, Complacency, or Love, to allay and convert that contrary Motion of Impatience and Discontent.[116]

  If it be said perhaps, that in the case before us, Religious Affection or Devotion is a sufficient and proper Remedy; we answer, That ’tis according as the Kind may happily prove. For if it be of the pleasant and chearful sort, ’tis of the very kind of natural Affection it-self: if it be of the * dismal or fearful sort; if it brings along with it any Affection opposite to Manhood, Generosity, Courage, or Free-thought; there will be nothing gain’d by this Application; and the Remedy will, in the issue, be undoubtedly found worse than the Disease. The severest Reflections on our Duty, and the Consideration merely of what is by Authority and under Penaltys enjoin’d, will not by any means serve to calm us on this occasion. The more dismal our Thoughts are on such a Subject, the worse our Temper will be, and the readier to discover it-self in Harshness, and Austerity. If, perhaps, by Compulsion, or thro’ any Necessity or Fear incumbent, a different Carriage be at any time effected, or different Maxims own’d; the Practice at the bottom will be still the same. If the Countenance be compos’d; the Heart, however, will not be chang’d. The ill Passion may for the time be with-held from breaking into Action; but will not be subdu’d, or in[117] the least debilitated against the next occasion. So that in such a Breast as this, whatever Devotion there may be; ’tis likely there will in time be little of an easy Spirit, or good Temper remaining; and consequently few and slender Enjoyments of a mental kind.

  If it be objected, on the other hand, that tho in melancholy Circumstances ill Humour may prevail, yet in a Course of outward Prosperity, and in the height of Fortune, there can nothing probably occur which shou’d thus sour the Temper, and give it such disrelish as is suggested; we may consider, that the most humour’d and indulg’d State is apt to receive the most disturbance from every Disappointment or smallest Ail. And if Provocations are easiest rais’d, and the Passions of Anger, Offence, and Enmity, are found the highest in the most indulg’d State of Will and Humour; there is still the greater need of a Supply from social Affection, to preserve the Temper from running into Savageness and Inhumanity. And this, the Case of Tyrants, and most unlimited Potentates, may sufficiently verify and demonstrate.

  MIND.NOW as to the other part of our Consideration, which relates to a Mindor Reason well compos’d and easy within it-self;[118] upon what account this Happiness may be thought owing to natural Affection,Reflection. we may possibly resolve our-selves, after this manner. It will be acknowledg’d that a Creature, such as Man, who from several degrees of Reflection has risen to that Capacity which we call Reason and Understanding; must in the very use of this his reasoning Faculty, be forc’d to receive Reflections back into his Mind of what passes in it-self, as well as in the Affections, or Will; in short, of whatsoever relates to his Character, Conduct, or Behaviour amidst his Fellow-Creatures, and in Society. Or shou’d he be of himself unapt; there are others ready to remind him, and refresh his Memory, in this way of Criticism. We have all of us Remembrancers enow to help us in this Work. Nor are the greatest Favourites of Fortune exempted from this Talk of Self-inspection. Even Flattery itself, by making the View agreeable, renders us more attentive this way, and insnares us in the Habit. The vainer any Person is, the more he has his Eye inwardly fix’d upon himself; and is, after a certain manner, employ’d in this home-Survey. And when a true Regard to our-selves cannot oblige us to this Inspection, a false Regard to others, and a Fondness for Reputation raises a watchful Jealousy, and furnishes us sufficiently with Acts of Reflection on our own Character and Conduct.[119]

  In whatever manner we consider of this, we shall find still, that every reasoning or reflecting Creature is, by his Nature, forc’d to endure the Review of his own Mind, and Actions; and to have Representations of himself, and his inward Affairs, constantly passing before him, obvious to him, and revolving in his Mind. Now as nothing can be more grievous than this is, to one who has thrown off natural Affection; so nothing can be more delightful to one who has preserv’d it with sincerity.

  Conscience.There are two Things, which to a rational Creature must be horridly offensive and grievous; viz. “To have the Reflection in his Mind of any unjust Action or Behaviour, which he knows to be naturally odious and ill-deserving: Or, of any foolish Action or Behaviour, which he knows to be prejudicial to his own Interest or Happiness.”

  Moral Conscience.The former of these is alone properly call’d Conscience; whether in a moral, or religious Sense. For to have Awe and Terror of the Deity, does not, of it-self, imply Conscience. No one is esteem’d the more conscientious for the fear of evil Spirits, Conjurations, Enchantments, or whatever may proceed from any unjust, capricious, or devilish Nature. Now to fear[120]God any otherwise than as in consequence of some justly blameable and imputable Act, is to fear a devilish Nature, not a divine one. Nor does the Fear of Hell, or a thousand Terrors of theDeity, imply Conscience; unless where there is an Apprehension of what is wrong, odious, morally deform’d, and ill-deserving. And where this is the Case, there Conscience must have effect, and Punishment of necessity be apprehended; even tho it be not expresly threaten’d.

  And thus religious Conscience supposes moral or natural Conscience. And tho the former be understood to carry with it the Fear of divine Punishment; it has its force however from the apprehended moral Deformity and Odiousness of any Act, with respect purely to the Divine Presence, and the natural Veneration due to such a suppos’d Being. For in such a Presence, the Shame of Villany or Vice must have its force, independently on that farther Apprehension of the magisterial Capacity of such a Being, and his Dispensation of particular Rewards or Punishments in a future State.

  It has been already said, that no Creature can maliciously and intentionally do ill, without being sensible, at the same time, that he deserves ill. And in this respect, every sensible Creature may be said to have[121]Conscience. For with all Mankind, and all intelligent Creatures, this must ever hold, “That what they know they deserve from every-one, that they necessarily must fear and expect from all.” And thus Suspicions and ill Apprehensions must arise, with Terror both of Men and of theDeity. But besides this, there must in every rational Creature, be yet farther Conscience; viz. from Sense of Deformity in what is thus ill-deserving and unnatural: and from a consequent Shame or Regret of incurring what is odious, and moves Aversion.

  There scarcely is, or can be any Creature, whom Consciousness of Villany, as such merely, does not at all offend; nor any thing opprobrious or heinously imputable, move, or affect. If there be such a one; ’tis evident he must be absolutely indifferent towards moral Good or Ill. If this indeed be his Case; ’twill be allow’d he can be no-way capable of natural Affection: If not of that, then neither of any social Pleasure, or mental Enjoyment, as shewn above; but on the contrary, he must be subject to all manner of horrid, unnatural, and ill Affection. So that to want Conscience, or natural Sense of the Odiousness of Crime and Injustice, is to be most of all miserable in Life: but where Conscience, or Sense of this sort, remains; there, consequently, whatever is committed[122] against it, must of necessity, by means of Reflection, as we have shewn, be continually shameful, grievous and offensive.

  A Man who in a Passion happens to kill his Companion, relents immediately on the sight of what he has done. His Revenge is chang’d into Pity, and his Hatred turn’d against himself. And this merely by the Power of the Object. On this account he suffers Agonys; the Subject of this continually occurs to him; and of this he has a constant ill Remembrance and displeasing Consciousness. If on the other side, we suppose him not to relent or suffer any real Concern or Shame; then, either he has no Sense of the Deformity of the Crime and Injustice, no natural Affection, and consequently no Happiness or Peace within: or if he has any Sense of moral Worth or Goodness, it must be of a perplex’d, and contradictory kind. He must pursue an inconsistent Notion,False Conscience. idolize some false Species of Virtue; and affect as noble, gallant, or worthy, that which is irrational and absurd. And how tormenting this must be to him, is easy to conceive. For never can such a Phantom as this be reduc’d to any certain Form. Never can this Proteus of Honour be held steddy, to one Shape. The Pursuit of it can only be vexatious and distracting. There is nothing beside real Virtue, as has been shewn,[123] which can possibly hold any proportion to Esteem, Approbation, or good Conscience. And he who, being led by false Religion or prevailing Custom, has learnt to esteem or admire any thing as Virtue which is not really such; must either thro’ the Inconsistency of such an Esteem, and the perpetual Immoralitys occasion’d by it, come at last to lose all Conscience, and so be miserable in the worst way: or, if he retains any Conscience at all, it must be of a kind never satisfactory, or able to bestow Content. For ’tis impossible that a cruel Enthusiast, or Bigot, a Persecutor, a Murderer, a Bravo, a Pirate, or any Villain of less degree, who is false to the Society of Mankind in general, and contradicts natural Affection; shou’d have any fix’d Principle at all, any real Standard or Measure by which he can regulate his Esteem, or any solid Reason by which to form his Approbation of any one moral Act. And thus the more he sets up Honour, or advances Zeal; the worse he renders his Nature, and the more detestable his Character. The more he engages in the Love or Admiration of any Action or Practice, as great and glorious, which is in it-self morally ill and vitious; the more Contradiction and Self-disapprobation he must incur. For there being nothing more certain than this, “That no natural Affection can be contradicted, nor any unnatural one advanc’d,[124] without a prejudice in some degree to all natural Affection in general”: it must follow, “That inward Deformity growing greater, by the Incouragement of unnatural Affection; there must be so much the more Subject for dissatisfactory Reflection, the more any false Principle of Honour, any false Religion, or Superstition prevails.”

  So that whatever Notions of this kind are cherish’d; or whatever Character affected, which is contrary to moral Equity, and leads to Inhumanity, thro’ a false Conscience, or wrong Sense of Honour,Causes Reproach from true. serves only to bring a Man the more under the lash of real and just Conscience, Shame, and Self-reproach. Nor can any one, who, by any pretended Authority, commits one single Immorality, be able to satisfy himself with any Reason, why he shou’d not at another time be carry’d further, into all manner of Villany; such perhaps as he even abhors to think of. And this is a Reproach which a Mind must of necessity make to it-self upon the least Violation of natural Conscience; in doing what is morally deform’d, and ill-deserving; tho warranted by any Example or Precedent amongst Men, or by any suppos’d Injunction or Command of higher Powers.[125]

  Conscience, from Interest.Now as for that other part of Conscience, viz. the remembrance of what was at any time unreasonably and foolishly done, in prejudice of one’s real Interest or Happiness: This dissatisfactory Reflection must follow still and have effect, wheresoever there is a Sense of moral Deformity, contracted by Crime, and Injustice. For even where there is no Sense of moral Deformity, as such merely; there must be still a Sense of the ill Merit of it with respect to God and Man. Or tho there were a possibility of excluding for ever all Thoughts or Suspicions of any superior Powers, yet considering that this Insensibility towards moral Good or Ill implies a total Defect in natural Affection, and that this Defect can by no Dissimulation be conceal’d; ’tis evident that a Man of this unhappy Character must suffer a very sensible Loss in the Friendship, Trust, and Confidence of other Men; and consequently must suffer in his Interest and outward Happiness. Nor can the Sense of this Disadvantage fail to occur to him; when he sees, with Regret, and Envy, the better and more grateful Terms of Friendship, and Esteem, on which better People live with the rest of Mankind. Even therefore where natural Affection is wanting; ’tis certain still, that by Immorality, necessarily hap[126]pening thro’ want of such Affection, there must be disturbance from Conscience of this sort, viz. from Sense of what is committed imprudently, and contrary to real Interest and Advantage.

  Conclusion drawn from the MENTAL PLEASURES.From all this we may easily conclude, how much our Happiness depends on natural and good Affection. For if the chief Happiness be from the Mental Pleasures; and the chief mental Pleasures are such as we have describ’d, and are founded in natural Affection; it follows, “That to have the natural Affections, is to have the chief Means and Power of Self-enjoyment, the highest Possession and Happiness of Life.”

  Pleasures of the SENSE, Dependent also on natural Affection.NOW as to the Pleasures ofthe Body, and the Satisfactions belonging to mereSense; ’tis evident, they cannot possibly have their Effect, or afford any valuable Enjoyment, otherwise than by the means of social and natural Affection.

  To live well, has no other meaning with some People, than to eat and drink well.Vulgar Epicurism. And methinks ’tis an unwary Concession we make in favour of these pretended good Livers, when we join with ’em, in honouring their way of Life with the Title of living fast. As if they liv’d the fastest[127] who took the greatest pains to enjoy least of Life: For if our Account of Happiness be right; the greatest Enjoyments in Life are such as these Men pass over in their haste,Pleasures of the Sense, and have scarce ever allow’d themselves the liberty of tasting.

  But as considerable a Part of Voluptuousness as is founded in the Palat; and as notable as the Science is, which depends on it; one may justly presume that the Ostentation of Elegance,Imagination, Fancy. and a certain Emulation and Study how to excel in this sumptuous Art of Living, goes very far in the raising such a high Idea of it, as is observ’d among the Men of Pleasure. For were the Circumstances of a Table and Company, Equipages, Services, and the rest of the Management withdrawn; there wou’d be hardly left any Pleasure worth acceptance, even in the Opinion of the most debauch’d themselves.

  A Debauch.The very Notion of a Debauch (which is a Sally into whatever can be imagin’d of Pleasure and Voluptuousness) carrys with it a plain reference to Society, or Fellowship. It may be call’d a Surfeit,Pleasures of the Sense. or Excess of Eating and Drinking, but hardly a Debauch of that kind, when the Excess is committed separately, out of all Society, or Fellowship. And one who abuses him-self in this way, is often call’d a Sot, but[128] never a Debauchee. The Courtizans, and even the commonest of Women,Women. who live by Prostitution, know very well how necessary it is, that every-one whom they entertain with their Beauty, shou’d believe there are Satisfactions reciprocal; and that Pleasures are no less given than receiv’d. And were this Imagination to be wholly taken away, there wou’d be hardly any of the grosser sort of Mankind, who wou’d not perceive their remaining Pleasure to be of slender Estimation.

  Who is there can well or long enjoy any thing, when alone, and abstracted perfectly, even in his very Mind and Thought, from every thing belonging to Society? Who wou’d not, on such Terms as these, be presently cloy’d by any sensual Indulgence? Who wou’d not soon grow uneasy with his Pleasure, however exquisite, till he had found means to impart it, and make it truly pleasant to him, by communicating, and sharing it at least with some one single Person? Let Men imagine what they please; let ’em suppose themselves ever so selfish; or desire ever so much to follow the Dictates of that narrow Principle, by which they wou’d bring Nature under restraint: Nature will break out; and in Agonys, Disquiets, and a distemper’d State, demonstrate evidently[129] the ill Consequence of such Violence, the Absurdity of such a Device, and the Punishment which belongs to such a monstrous and horrid Endeavour.

  Pleasures of the Sense,Thus, therefore, not only the Pleasures of the Mind, but even those of the Body, depend on natural Affection: insomuch that where this is wanting, they not only lose their Force, but are in a manner converted into Uneasiness and Disgust. The Sensations which shou’d naturally afford Contentment and Delight,Convertible into Disgust; produce rather Discontent and Sourness, and breed a Wearisomness and Restlessness in the Disposition. This we may perceive by the perpetual Inconstancy, and Love of Change,Variable: so remarkable in those who have nothing communicative or friendly in their Pleasures. Good Fellowship, in its abus’d Sense, seems indeed to have something more constant and determining. The Company supports the Humour. ’Tis the same in Love.Insupportable. A certain Tenderness and Generosity of Affection supports the Passion, which otherwise wou’d instantly be chang’d. The perfectest Beauty cannot, of it-self, retain, or fix it. And that Love which has no other Foundation, but relies on this exterior kind, is soon turn’d into Aversion. Satiety, perpetual Disgust, and Feverishness of Desire, attend those who passio[130]nately study Pleasure. They best enjoy it, who study to regulate their Passions. And by this they will come to know how absolute an Incapacity there is in any thing sensual to please, or give contentment, where it depends not on something friendly or social, something conjoin’d, and in affinity with kind or natural Affection.

  Balance of the Affections.BUT ERE we conclude this Article of social or natural Affection, we may take a general View of it, and bring it, once for all, into the Scale; to prove what kind of *Balance it helps to make within; and what the Consequence may be, of its Deficiency, or light Weight.

  There is no-one of ever so little Understanding in what belongs to a human Constitution, who knows not that without Action, Motion, and Employment, the Body languishes, and is oppress’d; its Nourishment turns to Disease; the Spirits, unimploy’d abroad, help to consume the Parts within; and Nature, as it were, preys upon her-self. In the same manner, the sensible and living Part, the Soul or Mind, wanting its proper and natural[131] Exercise, is burden’d and diseas’d. Its Thoughts and Passions being unnaturally with-held from their due Objects, turn against it-self, and create the highest Impatience and Ill-humour.

  In †Brutes, and other Creatures, which have not the Use of Reason and Reflection,Instance in the animal Kinds. (at least not after the manner of Mankind) ’tis so order’d in Nature, that by their daily Search after Food, and their Application either towards the Business of their Livelihood, or the Affairs of their Species or Kind,Balance of the Affections. almost their whole time is taken up, and they fail not to find full Imployment for their Passion, according to that degree of Agitation to which they are fitted, and which their Constitution requires. If any one of these Creatures be taken out of his natural laborious State, and plac’d amidst such a Plenty as can profusely administer to all his Appetites and Wants; it may be observ’d, that as his Circumstances grow thus luxuriant, his Temper and Passions have the same growth. When he comes, at any time, to have the Accommodations of Life at a cheaper and easier rate than was at first intended him by Nature, he is made to pay dear for ’em in another way; by losing his natu[132]ral good Disposition, and the Orderliness of his Kind or Species.

  This needs not to be demonstrated by particular Instances. Whoever has the least knowledg of natural History, or has been an Observer of the several Breeds of Creatures, and their ways of Life, and Propagation, will easily understand this Difference of Orderliness between the wild and the tame of the same Species. The latter acquire new Habits; and deviate from their original Nature. They lose even the common Instinct and ordinary Ingenuity of their Kind;Animal Kinds. nor can they ever regain it, whilst they continue in this pamper’d State: but being turn’d to shift abroad, they resume the natural Affection and Sagacity of their Species. They learn to unite in stricter Fellowship; and grow more concern’d for their Offspring. They provide against the Seasons, and make the most of every Advantage given by Nature for the Support and Maintenance of their particular Species, against such as are foreign and hostile. And thus as they grow busy and imploy’d, they grow regular and good. Their Petulancy and Vice forsakes them, with their Idleness and Ease.

  Mankind.It happens with Mankind, that whilst some are by necessity confin’d to Labour,[133] others are provided with abundance of all things, by the Pains and Labour of Inferiors. Now, if among the superior and easy sort, there be not something of fit and proper Imployment rais’d in the room of what is wanting in common Labour and Toil; if instead of an Application to any sort of Work, such as has a good and honest End in Society, (as Letters, Sciences, Arts, Husbandry, publick Affairs,Balance of the Affections. OEconomy, or the like) there be a thorow Neglect of all Duty or Imployment; a settled Idleness, Supineness, and Inactivity; this of necessity must occasion a most relax’d and dissolute State: It must produce a total Disorder of the Passions, and break out in the strangest Irregularitys imaginable.

  We see the enormous Growth of Luxury in capital Citys, such as have been long the Seat of Empire. We see what Improvements are made in Vice of every kind, where numbers of Men are maintain’d in lazy Opulence, and wanton Plenty. ’Tis otherwise with those who are taken up in honest and due Imployment, and have been well inur’d to it from their Youth. This we may observe in the hardy remote Provincials, the Inhabitants of smaller Towns, and the industrious sort of common People; where ’tis rare to meet with any Instances of those Irregularitys,[134] which are known in Courts and Palaces; and in the rich Foundations of easy and pamper’d Priests.

  Now if what we have advanc’d concerning an inward Constitution be real and just; if it be true that Nature works by a just Order and Regulation as well in the Passions and Affections, as in the Limbs and Organs which she forms; if it appears withal, that she has so constituted this inward Part, that nothing is so essential to it as Exercise; and no Exercise so essential as that of social or natural Affection: it follows, that where this is remov’d or weaken’d, the inward Part must necessarily suffer and be impair’d. Let Indolence, Indifference, or Insensibility, be study’d as an Art, or cultivated with the utmost Care; the Passions thus restrain’d will force their Prison, and in one way or other procure their Liberty, and find full Employment. They will be sure to create to themselves unusual and unnatural Exercise, where they are cut off from such as is natural and good. And thus in the room of orderly and natural Affection, new and unnatural must be rais’d, and all inward Order and OEconomy destroy’d.OEconomy.

  One must have a very imperfect Idea of the Order of Nature in the Formation and Structure of Animals, to imagine that[135] so great a Principle, so fundamental a Part as that of natural Affection shou’d possibly be lost or impair’d, without any inward Ruin or Subversion of the Temper and Frame of Mind.Balance of the Affections.

  Whoever is the least vers’d in this moral kind of Architecture, will find the inward Fabrick so adjusted, and the whole so nicely built;Fabrick. that the barely extending of a single Passion a little too far, or the continuance of it too long, is able to bring irrecoverable Ruin and Misery. He will find this experienc’d in the ordinary Case of Phrenzy, and Distraction; when the Mind, dwelling too long upon one Subject, (whether prosperous or calamitous) sinks under the weight of it, and proves what the necessity is, of a due Balance, and Counterpoise in the Affections. He will find, that in every different Creature, and distinct Sex, there is a different and distinct Order, Set, or Suit of Passions; proportionable to the different Order of Life, the different Functions and Capacitys assign’d to each. As the Operations and Effects are different, so are the Springs and Causes in each System. The inside Work is fitted to the outward Action and Performance. So that where Habits or Affections are dislodg’d, misplac’d, or chang’d; where those belonging to one Species are intermix’d with those be[136]longing to another, there must of necessity be Confusion and Disturbance within.

  Monsters.All this we may observe easily, by comparing the more perfect with the imperfect Natures, such as are imperfect from their Birth, by having suffer’d Violence within, in their earliest Form, and inmost Matrix. We know how it is with Monsters, such as are compounded of different Kinds, or different Sexes. Nor are they less Monsters, who are mishapen or distorted in an inward Part. The ordinary Animals appear unnatural and monstrous, when they lose their proper Instincts, forsake their Kind, neglect their Offspring, and pervert those Functions or Capacitys bestow’d by Nature. How wretched must it be, therefore, for Man, of all other Creatures, to lose that Sense, and Feeling, which is proper to him as aMan, and sutable to his Character, and Genius? How unfortunate must it be for a Creature, whose dependence on Society is greater than any others, to lose that natural Affection by which he is prompted to the Good and Interest of his Species, and Community? Such indeed is Man’s natural Share of this Affection, that He, of all other Creatures,Balance of the Affections. is plainly the least able to bear Solitude. Nor is any thing more apparent, than that there is naturally in every Man[137] such a degree of social Affection as inclines him to seek the Familiarity and Friendship of his Fellows. ’Tis here that he lets loose a Passion, and gives reins to a Desire, which can hardly by any struggle or inward violence be with-held; or if it be, is sure to create a Sadness, Dejection, and Melancholy in the Mind. For whoever is unsociable, and voluntarily shuns Society, or Commerce with the World, must of necessity be morose and ill-natur’d. He, on the other side, who is with-held by force or accident, finds in his Temper the ill Effects of this Restraint. The Inclination, when suppress’d, breeds Discontent; and on the contrary, affords a healing and enlivening Joy, when acting at its liberty, and with full scope: as we may see particularly, when after a time of Solitude and long Absence, the Heart is open’d, the Mind disburden’d, and the Secrets of the Breast unfolded to a Bosom-Friend.

  This we see yet more remarkably instanc’d in Persons of the most elevated Stations; even in Princes, Monarchs, and those who seem by their Condition to be above ordinary human Commerce, and who affect a sort of distant Strangeness from the rest of Mankind. But their Carriage is not the same towards all Men. The wiser and better sort, it’s true, are[138] often held at a distance; as unfit for their Intimacy, or secret Trust. But to compensate this, there are others subtituted in their room, who, tho they have the least Merit, and are perhaps the most vile and contemptible of Men, are sufficient, however, to serve the purpose of an imaginary Friendship, and can become Favourites in form. These are the Subjects of Humanity in the Great. For These we see them often in concern and pain: in These they easily confide: to These they can with pleasure communicate their Power and Greatness, be open, free, generous, confiding, bountiful; as rejoicing in the Action it-self: having no Intention or Aim beyond it; and their Interest, in respect of Policy, often standing a quite contrary way. But where neither the Love of Mankind, nor the Passion for Favourites prevails, the tyrannical Temper fails not to shew it-self in its proper colours, and to the life, with all the Bitterness, Cruelty, and Mistrust, which belong to that solitary and gloomy State of un-communicative and un-friendly Greatness. Nor needs there any particular Proof from History, or present Time, to second this Remark.

  THUS it may appear, how much natural Affection is predomi[139]nant; how it is inwardly join’d to us, and implanted in our Natures; how interwoven with our other Passions; and how essential to that regular Motion and Course of our Affections, on which our Happiness and Self-enjoyment so immediately depend.

  And thus we have demonstrated, That as, on one side,To have the natural and good Affections, is to have the chief Means and Power of Self-enjoyment: So, on the other side,to want them, is certain Misery, and Ill.

  Sect. 2.SECTION II

  SECOND Proof; from the Self-passions.WE are now to prove, That by having the Self-passions too intense or strong, a Creature becomes miserable.

  IN order to this, we must, according to Method, enumerate those Home-affections which relate to the private Interest or separate OEconomy of the Creature: such as Love of Life;—Resentment of Injury;—Pleasure, or Appetite towards Nourishment, and the Means of Generation;—Interest, or Desire of those Conveniences, by which we are well provided for,[140] and maintain’d;—Emulation, or Love of Praise and Honour;—Indolence, or Love of Ease and Rest.—These are the Affections which relate to the private System, and constitute whatever we call Interestedness or Self-love.

  Now these Affections, if they are moderate, and within certain bounds, are neither injurious to social Life, nor a hindrance to Virtue: but being in an extreme degree, they become Cowardice,—Revengefulness,—Luxury,—Avarice,—Vanity and Ambition,—Sloth;—and, as such, are own’d vitious and ill, with respect to human Society.Self-passions. How they are ill also with respect to the private Person, and are to his own disadvantage as well as that of the Publick, we may consider, as we severally examine them.

  Love of Life.IF THERE were any of these Self-passions, which for the Good and Happiness of the Creature might be oppos’d to Natural Affection, and allow’d to over-balance it; the Desire and Love of Life wou’d have the best Pretence. But it will be found perhaps, that there is no Passion which, by having much allow’d to it, is the occasion of more Disorder and Misery.[141]

  There is nothing more certain, or more universally agreed than this; “That Life may sometimes be even a Misfortune and Misery.” To inforce the continuance of it in Creatures reduc’d to such Extremity, is esteem’d the greatest Cruelty. And tho Religion forbids that anyone shou’d be his own Reliever; yet if by some fortunate accident, Death offers of it-self, it is embrac’d as highly welcome. And on this account the nearest Friends and Relations often rejoice at the Release of one intirely belov’d; even tho he himself may have been so weak as earnestly to decline Death, and endeavour the utmost Prolongment of his own un-eligible State.

  Since Life, therefore, may frequently prove a Misfortune and Misery; and since it naturally becomes so, by being only prolong’d to the Infirmitys of old Age; since there is nothing, withal, more common than to see Life over-valu’d, and purchas’d at such a Cost as it can never justly be thought worth: it follows evidently, that the Passion it-self (viz. the Love of Life, and Abhorrence or Dread of Death) if beyond a certain degree, and over-balancing in the Temper of any Creature, must lead him directly against his own Interest; make him, upon occasion, become the[142] greatest Enemy to himself; and necessitate him to act as such.

  But tho it were allow’d the Interest and Good of a Creature, by all Courses and Means whatsoever, in any Circumstances, or at any rate, to preserve Life; yet wou’d it be against his Interest still to have this Passion in a high degree. For it wou’d by this means prove ineffectual, and no-way conducing to its End. Various Instances need not be given.Self-passions. For what is there better known, than that at all times an excessive Fear betrays to danger, instead of saving from it? ’Tis impossible for any-one to act sensibly, and with Presence of Mind, even in his own Preservation and Defense, when he is strongly press’d by such a Passion. On all extraordinary Emergences, ’tis Courage and Resolution saves; whilst Cowardice robs us of the means of Safety, and not only deprives us of our defensive Facultys, but even runs us to the brink of Ruin, and makes us meet that Evil which of it-self wou’d never have invaded us.

  But were the Consequences of this Passion less injurious than we have represented; it must be allow’d still that in it-self it can be no other than miserable; if it be Misery to feel Cowardice, and be haunted by those Specters and Horrors,[143] which are proper to the Character of one who has a thorow Dread of Death. For ’tis not only when Dangers happen, and Hazards are incurr’d, that this sort of Fear oppresses and distracts. If it in the least prevails, it gives no quarter, so much as at the safest stillest hour of Retreat and Quiet. Every Object suggests Thought enough to employ it. It operates when it is least observ’d by others; and enters at all times into the pleasantest parts of Life; so as to corrupt and poison all Enjoyment, and Content. One may safely aver, that by reason of this Passion alone, many a Life, if inwardly and closely view’d, wou’d be found to be thorowly miserable, tho attended with all other Circumstances which in appearance render it happy. But when we add to this, the Meannesses, and base Condescensions, occasion’d by such a passionate Concern for living; when we consider how by means of it we are driven to Actions we can never view without Dislike, and forc’d by degrees from our natural Conduct, into still greater Crookednesses and Perplexity; there is no-one, surely, so disingenuous as not to allow, that Life, in this case, becomes a sorry Purchase, and is pass’d with little Freedom or Satisfaction. For how can this be otherwise, whilst every thing which is generous and worthy, even the chief Relish, Hap[144]piness, and Good of Life, is for Life’s sake abandon’d and renounc’d?

  And thus it seems evident, “That to have this Affection of Desire and Love of Life,Love of Life. too intense, or beyond a moderate degree, is against the Interest of a Creature, and contrary to his Happiness and Good.”

  Resentment.THERE is another Passion very different from that of Fear, and which in a certain degree is equally preservative to us, and conducing to our Safety. As that is serviceable, in prompting us to shun Danger; so is this, in fortifying us against it, and enabling us to repel Injury, and resist Violence when offer’d. ’Tis true, that according to strict Virtue, and a just Regulation of the Affections in a wise and virtuous Man, such Efforts towards Action amount not to what is justly styl’d Passion or Commotion. A Man of Courage may be cautious without real Fear. And a Man of Temper may resist or punish without Anger. But in ordinary Characters there must necessarily be some Mixture of the real Passions themselves; which however, in the main, are able to allay and temper one another. And thus Anger in a manner becomes necessary. ’Tis by this Passion that one Creature[145] offering Violence to another, is deter’d from the Execution; whilst he observes how the Attempt affects his Fellow; and knows by the very Signs which accompany this rising Motion, that if the Injury be carry’d further, it will not pass easily, or with impunity. ’Tis this Passion withal, which, after Violence and Hostility executed, rouzes a Creature in opposition, and, assists him in returning like Hostility and Harm on the Invader. For thus, as Rage and Despair increase, a Creature grows still more terrible; and being urg’d to the greatest extremity, finds a degree of Strength and Boldness unexperienc’d till then, and which had never risen, except thro’ the height of Provocation. As to this Affection therefore, notwithstanding its immediate Aim be indeed the Ill or Punishment of another, yet it is plainly of the sort of those which tend to the Advantage and Interest of the Self-system, the Animal himself; and is withal in other respects contributing to the Good and Interest of the Species. But there is hardly need we shou’d explain how mischievous and self-destructive Anger is, if it be what we commonly understand by that word: if it be such a Passion as is rash, and violent in the Instant of Provocation; or such as imprints it-self deeply, and causes a settled Revenge, and an eager vindicative Pursuit. No wonder indeed that so much[146] is done in mere Revenge, and under the Weight of a deep Resentment, when the Relief and Satisfaction found in that Indulgence is no other than the assuaging of the most torturous Pain, and the alleviating the most weighty and pressing Sensation of Misery. The Pain of this sort being for a-while remov’d or alleviated, by the accomplishment of the Desire, in the Ill of another, leaves indeed behind it the perception of a delicious Ease, and an overflowing of soft and pleasing Sensation. Yet is this, in truth, no better than the Rack it-self. For whoever has experienc’d racking Pains, can tell in what manner a sudden Cessation or Respite is us’d to affect him. From hence are those untoward Delights of Perverseness, Frowardness, and an envenom’d malignant Disposition, acting at its liberty. For this is only a perpetual assuaging ofAngerperpetually renew’d. In other Characters, the Passion arises not so suddenly, or on slight Causes; but being once mov’d, is not so easily quieted. The dormant Fury,Revenge, being rais’d once, and wrought up to her highest pitch, rests not till she attains her End; and, that attain’d, is easy, and reposes; making our succeeding Relief and Ease so much the more enjoy’d, as our preceding Anguish and incumbent Pain was of long duration, and bitter sense. Certainly if among Lovers, and in the Language of[147] Gallantry, the Success of ardent Love is call’d the assuaging of a Pain; this other Success may be far more justly term’d so. However soft or flattering the former Pain may be esteem’d, this latter surely can be no pleasing one: Nor can it be possibly esteem’d other than sound and thorow Wretchedness, a grating and disgustful Feeling, without the least mixture of any thing soft, gentle, or agreeable.

  ’Tis not very necessary to mention the ill effects of this Passion, in respect of our Minds, or Bodys, our private Condition, or Circumstances of Life. By these Particulars we may grow too tedious. These are of the moral sort of Subjects, join’d commonly with Religion, and treated so rhetorically, and with such inforc’d repetition in publick, as to be apt to raise the Satiety of Mankind. What has been said, may be enough perhaps to make this evident, “That to be subject to such a Passion as we have been mentioning, is, in reality, to be very unhappy”: And, “That the Habit it-self is a Disease of the worst sort; from which Misery is inseparable.”

  PLEASURE. Luxury.NOW AS to Luxury, and what the World calls Pleasure: Were it true (as has been prov’d the contrary) that the most considerable Enjoyments were those[148] merely of the Sense; and were it true, withal, that those Enjoyments of the Sense lay in certain outward things, capable of yielding always a due and certain Portion of Pleasure, according to their degree and quality; it wou’d then follow, that the certain way to obtain Happiness, wou’d be to procure largely of these Subjects, to which Happiness and Pleasure were thus infallibly annex’d. But however fashionably we may apply the Notion of good Living, ’twill hardly be found that our inward Facultys are able to keep pace with these outward Supplies of a luxuriant Fortune. And if the natural Disposition and Aptness from within be not concurring; ’twill be in vain that these Subjects are thus multiply’d from abroad, and acquir’d with ever so great facility.

  It may be observ’d in those, who by Excess have gain’d a constant Nauseating and Distaste, that they have nevertheless as constant a Craving or Eagerness of Stomach. But the Appetite of this kind is false and unnatural; as is that of Thirst arising from a Fever, or contracted by habitual Debauch. Now the Satisfactions of the natural Appetite, in a plain way, are infinitely beyond those Indulgences of the most refin’d and elegant Luxury. This is often perceiv’d by the Luxurious them-selves. It has been experienc’d in People[149] bred after the sumptuous way, and us’d never to wait, but to prevent Appetite; that when by any new Turn of Life they came to fall into a more natural Course, or for a while, as on a Journy, or a day of Sport, came accidentally to experience the Sweet of a plain Diet, recommended by due Abstinence and Exercise; they have with freedom own’d, that it was then they receiv’d the highest Satisfaction and Delight which a Table cou’d possibly afford.

  On the other side, it has been as often remark’d in Persons accustom’d to an active Life, and healthful Exercise; that having once thorowly experienc’d this plainer and more natural Diet, they have upon a following Change of Life regretted their Loss, and undervalu’d the Pleasures receiv’d from all the Delicacys of Luxury, in comparison with those remember’d Satisfactions of a preceding State. ’Tis plain, that by urging Nature, forcing the Appetite, and inciting Sense, the Keenness of the natural Sensations is lost. And tho thro’ Vice or ill Habit the same Subjects of Appetite may, every day, be sought with greater Ardour; they are enjoy’d with less Satisfaction. Tho the Impatience of abstaining be greater; the Pleasure of Indulgence is really less. The Palls or Nauseatings which continually intervene, are of the worst and most hate[150]ful kind of Sensation. Hardly is there any thing tasted which is wholly free from this ill relish of a surfeited Sense and ruin’d Appetite. So that instead of a constant and flowing Delight afforded in such a State of Life, the very State it-self is in reality a Sickness and Infirmity, a Corruption of Pleasure, and destructive of every natural and agreeable Sensation. So far is it from being true; “That in this licentious Course we enjoyLifebest, or are likely to make the most of it.”

  As to the Consequences of such an Indulgence; how fatal to the Body, by Diseases of many kinds, and to the Mind, by Sottishness and Stupidity; this needs not any explanation.

  The Consequences as to Interest are plain enough. Such a State of impotent and unrestrain’d Desire, as it increases our Wants, so it must subject us to a greater Dependence on others. Our private Circumstances, however plentiful or easy they may be, can less easily content us. Ways and Means must be invented to procure what may administer to such an imperious Luxury, as forces us to sacrifice Honour to Fortune, and runs us out into all irregularity and extravagance of Conduct. The Injurys we do our-selves, by Excess and Unforbearance, are then surely[151] apparent, when thro’ an Impotence of this sort, and an Impossibility of Restraint, we do what we our-selves declare to be destructive to us. But these are Matters obvious of themselves.PLEASURE. And from less than what has been said, ’tis easy to conclude, “That Luxury, Riot, and Debauch, are contrary to real Interest, and to the true Enjoyment of Life.”

  Amours.THERE is another Luxury superior to the kind we have been mentioning, and which in strictness can scarce be call’d a Self-passion, since the sole End of it is the Advantage and Promotion of the Species. But whereas all other social Affections are join’d only with a mental Pleasure, and founded in mere Kindness and Love; this has more added to it, and is join’d with a Pleasure of Sense. Such Concern and Care has Nature shewn for the Support and Maintenance of the several Species, that by a certain Indigence and kind of Necessity of their Natures, they are made to regard the Propagation of their Kind. Now whether it be the Interest or Good of the Animal to feel this Indigence beyond a natural and ordinary degree; is what we may consider.

  Having already said so much concerning natural and unnatural Appetite,[152] there needs less to be said on this occasion. If it be allow’d, that to all other Pleasures there is a Measure of Appetite belonging, which cannot possibly be exceeded without prejudice to the Creature, even in his very Capacity of enjoying Pleasure; it will hardly be thought that there is no certain Limit or just Boundary of this other Appetite of theAmorouskind. There are other sorts of ardent Sensations accidentally experienc’d, which we find pleasant and acceptable whilst they are held within a certain degree; but which, as they increase, grow oppressive and intolerable. Laughter provok’d by Titillation, grows an excessive Pain; tho it retains still the same Features of Delight and Pleasure. And tho in the case of that particular kind of Itch which belongs to a Distemper nam’d from that effect, there are some who, far from disliking the Sensation, find it highly acceptable and delightful; yet it will hardly be reputed such among the more refin’d sort, even of those who make Pleasure their chief Study, and highest Good.

  Now if there be in every Sensation of mere Pleasure, a certain Pitch or Degree of Ardour, which by being further advanc’d, comes the nearer to mere Rage and Fury;PLEASURE. if there be indeed a necessity of stopping somewhere, and determining[153] on some Boundary for the Passion; where can we fix our Standard, or how regulate our-selves but with regard to Nature, beyond which there is no Measure or Rule of things? Now Nature may be known from what we see of the natural State of Creatures, and of Man himself, when unprejudic’d by vitious Education.

  Where happily any-one is bred to a natural Life, inur’d to honest Industry and Sobriety, and un-accustom’d to any thing immoderate or intemperate; he is found to have his Appetites and Inclinations of this sort at command. Nor are they on this account less able to afford him the Pleasure or Enjoyment of each kind. On the contrary; as they are more sound, healthy, and un-injur’d by Excess and Abuse, they must afford him proportionate Satisfaction. So that were both these Sensations to be experimentally compar’d; that of a virtuous Course which belong’d to one who liv’d a natural and regular Life, and that of a vitious Course which belong’d to one who was relax’d and dissolute; there is no question but Judgment wou’d be given in favour of the former, without regard to Consequences, and only with respect to the very Pleasure of Sense it-self.[154]

  As to the Consequences of this Vice, with respect to the Health and Vigour of the Body; there is no need to mention any thing. The Injury it does the Mind, tho less notic’d, is yet greater. The Hinderance of all Improvement, the wretched Waste of Time, the Effeminacy, Sloth, Supineness, the Disorder and Looseness of a thousand Passions, thro’ such a relaxation and enervating of the Mind; are all of them Effects sufficiently apparent, when reflected on.

  What the Disadvantages are of this Intemperance, in respect of Interest, Society, and the World; and what the Advantages are of a contrary Sobriety, and Self-command, wou’d be to little purpose to mention. ’Tis well known there can be no Slavery greater than what is consequent to the Dominion and Rule of such a Passion. Of all other, it is the least manageable by Favour or Concession, and assumes the most from Privilege and Indulgence. What it costs us in the Modesty and Ingenuity of our Natures, and in the Faith and Honesty of our Characters, is as easily apprehended by anyone who will reflect. And it will from hence appear, “That there is no Passion, which in its Extravagance and Excess[155] more necessarily occasions Disorder and Unhappiness.”

  INTEREST.NOW AS to that Passion which is esteem’d peculiarly interesting; as having for its Aim the Possession of Wealth, and what we call a Settlement or Fortune in the World: If the Regard towards this kind be moderate, and in a reasonable degree; if it occasions no passionate Pursuit, nor raises any ardent Desire or Appetite; there is nothing in this Case which is not compatible with Virtue, and even sutable and beneficial to Society. The publick as well as private System is advanc’d by the Industry, which this Affection excites. But if it grows at length into a real Passion; the Injury and Mischief it does the Publick, is not greater than that which it creates to the Person himself. Such a one is in reality a Self-oppressor, and lies heavier on himself than he can ever do on Mankind.

  How far a coveting or avaritious Temper is miserable, needs not, surely, be explain’d. Who knows not how small a Portion of worldly Matters is sufficient for a Man’s single Use and Convenience; and how much his Occasions and Wants might be contracted and reduc’d, if a just Frugality[156] were study’d, and Temperance and a natural Life came once to be pursu’d with half that Application, Industry and Art, which is bestow’d on Sumptuousness and Luxury? Now if Temperance be in reality so advantageous, and the Practice as well as the Consequences of it so pleasing and happy, as has been before express’d; there is little need, on the other side, to mention any thing of the Miserys attending those covetous and eager Desires after things which have no Bounds or Rule; as being out of Nature, beyond which there can be no Limits to Desire. For where shall we once stop, when we are beyond this Boundary? How shall we fix or ascertain a thing wholly unnatural and unreasonable? Or what Method, what Regulation shall we set to mere Imagination, or the Exorbitancy of Fancy, in adding Expence to Expence, or Possession to Possession?Interest.

  Hence that known Restlessness of covetous and eager Minds, in whatever State or Degree of Fortune they are plac’d; there being no thorow or real Satisfaction, but a kind of Insatiableness belonging to this Condition. For ’tis impossible there shou’d be any real Enjoyment, except in consequence of natural and just Appetite. Nor do we readily call that an Enjoyment of Wealth or of Honour, when thro’[157] Covetousness or Ambition, the Desire is still forward, and can never rest satisfy’d with its Gains. But against this Vice of Covetousness, there is enough said continually in the World; and in our common way of speaking, “A covetous, and a miserable Temper, has, in reality, one and the same Signification.”

  Emulation.NOR IS there less said, abroad, as to the Ills of that other aspiring Temper, which exceeds an honest Emulation, or Love of Praise, and passes the Bounds even of Vanity and Conceit. Such is that Passion which breaks into an enormous Pride and Ambition. Now if we consider once the Ease, Happiness, and Security which attend a modest Disposition and quiet Mind, such as is of easy Self-command, fitted to every Station in Society, and able to sute it-self with any reasonable Circumstances whatever; ’twill, on the first view, present us with the most agreeable and winning Character. Nor will it be found necessary, after this, to call to mind the Excellence and Good of Moderation, or the Mischief and Self-injury of immoderate Desires, and conceited fond Imaginations of personal Advantage, in such things as Titles, Honours, Precedencys, Fame, Glory, or vulgar Astonishment, Admiration, and Applause.[158]

  This too is obvious, that as the Desires of this kind are rais’d, and become impetuous, and out of our command; so the Aversions and Fears of the contrary part, grow proportionably strong and violent, and the Temper accordingly suspicious, jealous, captious, subject to Apprehensions from all Events, and uncapable of bearing the least Repulse or ordinary Disappointment. And hence it may be concluded, “That all Rest and Security as to what is future, and all Peace, Contentedness and Ease as to what is present, is forfeited by the aspiring Passions of this emulous kind; and by having the Appetites towards Glory and outward Appearance thus transporting and beyond command.”

  Indolence.THERE is a certain Temper plac’d often in opposition to those eager and aspiring Aims of which we have been speaking. Not that it really excludes either the Passion of Covetousness or Ambition; but because it hinders their Effects, and keeps them from breaking into open Action. ’Tis this Passion, which by soothing the Mind, and softning it into an excessive Love of Rest and Indolence, renders high Attempts impracticable, and represents as insuperable the[159] Difficultys of a painful and laborious Course towards Wealth and Honours. Now tho an Inclination to Ease, and a Love of moderate Recess and Rest from Action, be as natural and useful to us as the Inclination we have towards Sleep; yet an excessive Love of Rest, and a contracted Aversion to Action and Imployment, must be a Disease in the Mind equal to that of a Lethargy in the Body.

  How necessary Action and Exercise are to the Body, may be judg’d by the difference we find between those Constitutions which are accustom’d, and those which are wholly strangers to it; and by the different Health and Complexion which Labour and due Exercise create, in comparison with that Habit of Body we see consequent to an indulg’d State of Indolence and Rest. Nor is the lazy Habit ruinous to the Body only. The languishing Disease corrupts all the Enjoyments of a vigorous and healthy Sense, and carrys its Infection into the Mind; where it spreads a worse Contagion. For however the Body may for a-while hold out, ’tis impossible that the Mind, in which the Distemper is seated, can escape without an immediate Affliction and Disorder. The Habit begets a Tediousness and Anxiety, which influences the whole Temper, and converts the unnatural Rest[160] into an unhappy sort of Activity, ill Humour, and Spleen: of which there has been enough said above, where we consider’d the want of a due Balance in the Affections.

  ’Tis certain, that as in the Body, when no Labour or natural Exercise is us’d, the Spirits which want their due Imployment, turn against the Constitution, and find work for themselves in a destructive way; so in a Soul, or Mind, unexercis’d, and which languishes for want of proper Action and Employment, the Thoughts and Affections being obstructed in their due Course, and depriv’d of their natural Energy, raise Disquiet, and foment a rancorous Eagerness and tormenting Irritation. The Temper from hence becomes more impotent in Passion, more incapable of real Moderation; and, like prepar’d Fuel, readily takes fire by the least Spark.

  As to Interest, how far it is here concern’d; how wretched that State is, in which by this Habit a Man is plac’d, towards all the Circumstances and Affairs of Life, when at any time he is call’d to Action; how subjected he must be to all Inconveniences, wanting to himself, and depriv’d of the Assistance of others; whilst being unfit for all Offices and Dutys of[161] Society, he yet of any other Person most needs the help of it, as being least able to assist or support himself; all this is obvious. And thus ’tis evident, “That to have this over-biassing Inclination towards Rest, this slothful, soft, or effeminate Temper, averse to Labour and Imployment, is to have an unavoidable Mischief, and attendent Plague.”

  Self-passions in general.THUS have we consider’d the Self-passions; and what the Consequence is of their rising beyond a moderate degree. These Affections, as self-interesting as they are, can often, we see, become contrary to our real Interest. They betray us into most Misfortunes, and into the greatest of Unhappinesses, that of a profligate and abject Character. As they grow imperious and high, they are the occasion that a Creature in proportion becomes mean and low. They are original to that which we call Selfishness, and give rise to that sordid Disposition of which we have already spoken. It appears there can be nothing so miserable in it-self, or so wretched in its Consequence, as to be thus impotent in Temper, thus master’d by Passion, and by means of it, brought under the most servile Subjection to the World.[162]

  ’Tis evident withal, that as this Selfishness increases in us, so must a certain Subtlety, and feignedness of Carriage, which naturally accompanys it. And thus the Candour and Ingenuity of our Natures, the Ease and Freedom of our Minds must be forfeited; all Trust and Confidence in a manner lost; and Suspicions, Jealousys, and Envys multiply’d. A separate End and Interest must be every day more strongly form’d in us; generous Views and Motives laid aside: And the more we are thus sensibly disjoin’d every day from Society and our Fellows; the worse Opinion we shall have of those uniting Passions, which bind us in strict Alliance and Amity with others. Upon these Terms we must of course endeavour to silence and suppress our natural and good Affections: since they are such as wou’d carry us to the good of Society, against what we fondly conceive to be our private Good and Interest; as has been shewn.

  Now if these selfish Passions, besides what other Ill they are the occasion of, are withal the certain means of losing us our natural Affections; then (by what has been prov’d before) ’tis evident, “That they must be the certain means of losing us the chief Enjoyment of Life,[163] and raising in us those horrid and unnatural Passions, and that Savageness of Temper, which makes the greatest of Miserys, and the most wretched State of Life”: as remains for us to explain.

  Sect. 3.SECTION III

  THIRD Proof; from the unnatural Affections.THE Passions therefore, which, in the last place, we are to examine, are those which lead neither to a publick nor a private Good; and are neither of any advantage to the Species in general, or the Creature in particular. These, in opposition to the social and natural, we call the unnatural Affections.

  Inhumanity.Of this kind is that unnaturalandinhuman Delightin beholding Torments, and in viewing Distress, Calamity, Blood, Massacre and Destruction, with a peculiar Joy and Pleasure. This has been the reigning Passion of many Tyrants, and barbarous Nations; and belongs, in some degree, to such Tempers as have thrown off that Courteousness of Behaviour, which retains in us a just Reverence of Mankind, and prevents the Growth of Harshness and Brutality. This Passion enters not where Civility or affable Manners have the least place. Such is the Nature of what we call good Breeding,[164] that in the midst of many other Corruptions, it admits not of Inhumanity, or savage Pleasure. To see the Sufferance of an Enemy with cruel Delight, may proceed from the height of Anger, Revenge, Fear, and other extended Self-passions: But to delight in the Torture and Pain of other Creatures indifferently, Natives or Foreigners, of our own or of another Species, Kindred or no Kindred, known or unknown; to feed, as it were, on Death, and be entertain’d with dying Agonys; this has nothing in it accountable in the way of Self-interest or private Good above-mention’d, but is wholly and absolutely unnatural, as it is horrid and miserable.

  Petulancy.There is another Affection nearly related to this, which is a gay and frolicksome Delight in what is injurious to others; a sort of wanton Mischievousness, and Pleasure in what is destructive; a Passion which, instead of being restrain’d, is usually encourag’d in Children: so that ’tis indeed no wonder if the Effects of it are very unfortunately felt in the World. For ’twill be hard, perhaps, for any-one to give a reason why that Temper, which was us’d to delight in Disorder and Ravage, when in a Nursery; shou’d not afterwards find delight in other Disturbances, and be the occasion[165] of equal Mischief in Familys, amongst Friends, and in the Publick it-self. But of this Passion there is not any foundation in Nature; as has been explain’d.

  Malignity.Malice, Malignity, or Ill-Will, such as is grounded on no Self-consideration, and where there is no Subject of Anger or Jealousy, nor any thing to provoke or cause such a Desire of doing ill to another; this also is of that kind of Passion.

  Envy.Envy too, when it is such as arises from the Prosperity or Happiness of another Creature no ways interfering with ours, is of the same kind of Passion.

  Moroseness.There is also among these, a sort of Hatred of Mankind and Society; a Passion which has been known perfectly reigning in some Men,MISANTHROPY. and has had a peculiar Name given to it. A large share of this belongs to those who have long indulg’d themselves in a habitual Moroseness, or who by force of ill Nature, and ill Breeding, have contracted such a Reverse of Affability, and civil Manners, that to see or meet a Stranger is offensive. The very Aspect of Mankind is a disturbance to ’em, and they are sure always to hate at first sight. The Distemper of this kind is sometimes found to be in a man[166]ner National; but peculiar to the more savage Nations,Inhospitality, Barbarity. and a plain Characteristick of unciviliz’d Manners, and Barbarity. This is the immediate Opposite to that noble Affection, which, in antient Language, was term’d *Hospitality, viz. extensive Love of Mankind, and Relief of Strangers.

  Superstition.We may add likewise to the number of the unnatural Passions, all those which are rais’d from Superstition, (as before-mention’d) and from the Customs of barbarous Countrys: All which are too horrid and odious in themselves, to need any proof of their being miserable.

  Unnatural Lusts.There might be other Passions nam’d, such as unnatural Lusts, in foreign Kinds or Species, with other Perversions of the amorous Desire within our own. But as to these Depravitys of Appetite, we need add nothing here; after what has been already said, on the Subject of the more natural Passions.

  Such as these are the only Affections or Passions we can strictly call unnatural, ill, and of no tendency so much as to any separate or private Good. Others indeed there are which have this tendency, but are so exorbitant and out of measure, so[167] beyond the common Bent of any ordinary Self-passion, and so utterly contrary and abhorrent to all social and natural Affection, that they are generally call’d, and may be justly esteem’d, unnatural and monstrous.

  Tyranny.Among these may be reckon’d such an enormous Pride or Ambition, such an Arrogance and Tyranny, as wou’d willingly leave nothing eminent, nothing free, nothing prosperous in the World: such an Anger as wou’d sacrifice every thing to it-self: such a Revenge as is never to be extinguish’d, nor ever satisfy’d without the greatest Crueltys: such an Inveteracy and Rancour as seeks, as it were, occasion to exert it-self; and lays hold of the least Subject, so as often to make the weight of its Malevolence fall even upon such as are mere Objects of Pity and Compassion.

  Treachery, Ingratitude.Treachery and Ingratitude are in strictness mere negative Vices; and, in themselves, no real Passions; having neither Aversion or Inclination belonging to them; but are deriv’d from the Defect, Unsoundness, or Corruption of the Affections in general. But when these Vices become remarkable in a Character, and arise in a manner from Inclination and Choice; when they are so for[168]ward and active, as to appear of their own accord, without any pressing occasion; ’tis apparent they borrow something of the mere unnatural Passions, and are deriv’d from Malice, Envy, and Inveteracy; as explain’d above.

  Unnatural Pleasure in general.IT MAY be objected here, that these Passions, unnatural as they are, carry still a sort of Pleasure with them; and that however barbarous a Pleasure it be, yet still it is a Pleasure and Satisfaction which is found in Pride, or Tyranny, Revenge, Malice, or Cruelty exerted. Now if it be possible in Nature, that any-one can feel a barbarous or malicious Joy, otherwise than in consequence of mere Anguish and Torment, then may we perhaps allow this kind of Satisfaction to be call’d Pleasure or Delight. But the Case is evidently contrary. To love, and to be kind; to have social or natural Affection, Complacency and Good-will, is to feel immediate Satisfaction and genuine Content. ’Tis in it-self original Joy, depending on no preceding Pain or Uneasiness; and producing nothing beside Satisfaction merely. On the other side, Animosity, Hatred and Bitterness, is original Misery and Torment, producing no other Pleasure or Satisfaction, than as the unnatural Desire is for the instant satisfy’d by some[169]thing which appeases it. How strong soever this Pleasure, therefore, may appear; it only the more implies the Misery of that State which produces it. For as the cruellest bodily Pains do by intervals of Assuagement, produce (as has been shewn) the highest bodily Pleasure; so the fiercest and most raging Torments of the Mind, do, by certain Moments of Relief, afford the greatest of mental Enjoyments, to those who know little of the truer kind.

  Unnatural State.The Men of gentlest Dispositions, and best of Tempers, have at some time or other been sufficiently acquainted with those Disturbances, which, at ill hours, even small occasions are apt to raise. From these slender Experiences of Harshness and Ill-humour, they fully know and will confess the ill Moments which are pass’d, when the Temper is ever so little gall’d or fretted. How must it fare, therefore, with those who hardly know any better hours in Life; and who, for the greatest part of it, are agitated by a thorow active Spleen, a close and settled Malignity, and Rancour? How lively must be the Sense of every thwarting and controuling Accident? How great must be the Shocks of Disappointment, the Stings of Affront, and the Agonys of a working Antipathy, against the multiply’d Objects of Offence? Nor can it be wonder’d at, if to Persons[170] thus agitated and oppress’d, it seems a high Delight to appease and allay for the while those furious and rough Motions, by an Indulgence of their Passion in Mischief and Revenge.

  Now as to the Consequences of this unnatural State, in respect of Interest, and the common Circumstances of Life; upon what Terms a Person who has in this manner lost all which we call Nature, can be suppos’d to stand, in respect of the Society of Mankind; how he feels himself in it; what Sense he has of his own Disposition towards others, and of the mutual Disposition of others towards himself; this is easily conceiv’d.

  What Injoyment or Rest is there for one, who is not conscious of the merited Affection or Love, but, on the contrary, of the Ill-will and Hatred of every human Soul? What ground must this afford for Horror and Despair? What foundation of Fear, and continual Apprehension from Mankind, and from superior Powers? How thorow and deep must be that Melancholy, which being once mov’d, has nothing soft or pleasing from the side of Friendship, to allay or divert it? Wherever such a Creature turns himself; whichever way he casts his Eye; every thing around must appear ghastly and horrid;[171] every thing hostile, and, as it were, bent against a private and single Being, who is thus divided from every thing, and at defiance and war with the rest of Nature.

  ’Tis thus, at last, that a Mind becomes a Wilderness; where all is laid waste, every thing fair and goodly remov’d, and nothing extant beside what is savage and deform’d. Now if Banishment from one’s Country, Removal to a foreign Place, or any thing which looks like Solitude or Desertion, be so heavy to endure; what must it be to feel this inward Banishment, this real Estrangement from human Commerce; and to be after this manner in a Desart, and in the horridest of Solitudes, even when in the midst of Society? What must it be to live in this Disagreement with every thing, this Irreconcilableness and Opposition to the Order and Government of the Universe?

  HENCE it appears, That the greatest of Miserys accompanys that State which is consequent to the Loss of natural Affection; and That to have those horrid, monstrous, and unnatural Affections, is to be miserable in the highest Degree.[172]

  CONCLUSION

  THUS have we endeavour’d to prove what was propos’d in the beginning. And since in the common and known Sense of Vice and Illness, no-one can be vitious or ill, except either,

  • 1.By the Deficiency or Weakness of natural Affections;Or,
  • 2. by the Violence of the selfish;Or,
  • 3. by such as are plainly unnatural:

  It must follow, that if each of these are pernicious and destructive to the Creature, insomuch that his compleatest State of Misery is made from hence; To be wicked or vitious, is to be miserable and unhappy.

  And since every vitious Action must in proportion, more or less, help towards this Mischief, and Self-ill; it must follow,Conclusion. That every vitious action mustbe self-injurious and ill.

  On the other side; the Happiness and Good of Virtue has been prov’d from the contrary Effect of other Affections,[173] such as are according to Nature, and the OEconomy of the Species or Kind. We have cast up all those Particulars, from whence (as by way of Addition and Subtraction) the main Sum or general Account of Happiness, is either augmented or diminish’d. And if there be no Article exceptionable in this Scheme of Moral Arithmetick; the Subject treated may be said to have an Evidence as great as that which is found in Numbers, or Mathematicks. For let us carry Scepticism ever so far, let us doubt, if we can, of every thing about us; we cannot doubt of what passes within our-selves. Our Passions and Affections are known to us. They are certain, whatever the Objects may be, on which they are employ’d. Nor is it of any concern to our Argument, how these exterior Objects stand; whether they are Realitys, or mere Illusions; whether we wake or dream. For ill Dreams will be equally disturbing. And a good Dream, if Life be nothing else, will be easily and happily pass’d. In this Dream of Life, therefore, our Demonstrations have the same force; our Balance and OEconomy hold good, and our Obligation to Virtue is in every respect the same.

  Upon the whole: There is not, I presume, the least degree of Certainty wanting in what has been said concerning the Preferableness of the mental Pleasures to the[174]sensual; and even of the sensual, accompany’d with good Affection, and under a temperate and right use, to those which are no ways restrain’d, nor supported by any thing social or affectionate.

  Nor is there less Evidence in what has been said, of the united Structure and Fabrick of the Mind, and of those Passions which constitute the Temper, or Soul; and on which its Happiness or Misery so immediately depend. It has been shewn, That in this Constitution, the impairing of any one Part must instantly tend to the disorder and ruin of other Parts, and of the Whole it-self; thro’ the necessary Connexion and Balance of the Affections: That those very Passions thro’ which Men are vitious, are of themselves a Torment and Disease; and that whatsoever is done which is knowingly ill, must be of ill Consciousness; and in proportion, as the Act is ill, must impair and corrupt social Enjoyment, and destroy both the Capacity of kind Affection, and the Consciousness of meriting any such. So that neither can we participate thus in Joy or Happiness with others, or receive Satisfaction from the mutual Kindness or imagin’d Love of others: on which, however, the greatest of all our Pleasures are founded.

  If this be the Case of moral Delinquency; and if the State which is consequent[175] to this Defection from Nature, be of all other the most horrid, oppressive, and miserable; ’twill appear, “That to yield or consent to any thing ill or immoral, is a Breach of Interest, and leads to the greatest Ills”: and, “That on the other side, Every thing which is an Improvement of Virtue, or an Establishment of right Affection and Integrity, is an Advancement of Interest, and leads to the greatest and most solid Happiness and Enjoyment.”

  Thus the Wisdom of what rules, and is first and chiefin Nature, has made it to be according to the private Interest and Good of every-one, to work towards the general Good; which if a Creature ceases to promote, he is actually so far wanting to himself, and ceases to promote his own Happiness and Welfare. He is, on this account, directly his own Enemy: Nor can he any otherwise be good or useful to himself, than as he continues good to Society, and to that Whole of which he is himself a Part. So that Virtue, which of all Excellencys and Beautys is the chief, and most amiable; that which is the Prop and Ornament of human Affairs; which upholds Communitys, maintains Union, Friendship, and Correspondence amongst Men; that by which Countrys, as well as private Familys, flourish and are happy;[176] and for want of which, every-thing comely, conspicuous, great and worthy, must perish, and go to ruin; that single Quality, thus beneficial to all Society, and to Mankind in general, is found equally a Happiness and Good to each Creature in particular; and is that by which alone Man can be happy, and without which he must be miserable.

  And, thus, Virtue is the Good, and Vicethe Ill of every-one.[177]

  TREATISE V

  VIZ.

  THE MORALISTS,

  A Philosophical Rhapsody.

  BEING

  A RECITAL

  of certain Conversations on

  Natural and Moral Subjects.

  To seek the truth amidst the groves of Academe.*

  Horat. Ep. 2. Lib. 2.

  Publish’d in the Year M.DCC.IX.

  

  [* ] Amoto quaeramus seria ludo.

  [* ] As thus:

  (1.) Theism with Daemonism: (2.) Daemonism with Polytheism: (3.) Theism with Atheism: (4.) Daemonism with Atheism: (5.) Polytheism with Atheism: (6.) Theism (as it stands in opposition to Daemonism, and denotes Goodness in the superior Deity) with Polytheism: (7.) The same Theism or Polytheism with Daemonism: (8.) Or with Daemonism and Atheism.

  (1.) As when the one chief Mind, or Sovereign Being, is (in the Believer’s sense) divided between a good and an ill Nature, by being the Cause of Ill as well as Good: Or otherwise, when Two distinct and contrary Principles subsist; one, the Author of all Good, the other of all Ill.

  (2.) As when there is not one, but several corrupt Minds who govern; which Opinion may be call’d Polydaemonism.

  (3.) As when Chance is not excluded, but God and Chance divide.

  (4.) As when an evil Daemon and Chance divide.

  (5.) As when many Minds and Chance divide.

  (6.) As when there are more principal Minds than one, but agreeing in Good, with one and the same Will and Reason.

  (7.) As when the same System of Deity or corresponding Deity subsists, together with a contrary Principle, or with several contrary Principles or governing Minds.

  (8.) As when the last Case is, together with Chance.

  [* ]Infra, pag. 79, &c. 163, 4, &c.

  [† ] VOL. I. pag. 120.

  [* ]Infra, pag. 414.

  [* ]Infra, pag. 415, 418, 419, &c.

  [† ] VOL. I. p. 90, 91, 2, 3. VOL. III. p. 32, &c.

  [* ] VOL. I. p. 18, 19, 20. VOL. III. p. 115.

  [† ] VOL. III. p. 124.

  [* ]Infra, pag. 412, 420, 421.

  [* ] VOL. I. p. 97, &c.

  [* ]Infra, pag. 394, 400, &c. And VOL. III. p. 30, &c.

  [* ] VOL. I. p. 90, &c. 116, 117, 118, 119, 120.

  [* ]Infra, p. 131, 307, 8, 9, &c. And VOL. III. p. 216, 217, &c.

  [* ] VOL. III. p. 30.

  [* ] VOL. I. p. 32, 33, &c. And VOL. III. p. 115, 116, 124–128.

  [* ]Supra, p. 92, 93, &c.

  [† ]Supra, p. 92, 93. And Infra, p. 307, 8, 9, &c. And VOL. III. p. 216, 17, &c.

  [* ] VOL. III. p. 153, 154. in the Notes.

  [* ] Inter Silvas Academi quaerere Verum.

• Back to Top

  2: Session IIa: Bernard Mandeville’s Fable of the Bees

  In The Fable of the Bees Mandeville seems to paint a darker picture of human society, one in which “vice” plays a prominent role in the seeking after fortune.

  Bernard Mandeville, The Fable of the Bees or Private Vices, Publick Benefits, 2 vols. With a Commentary Critical, Historical, and Explanatory by F.B. Kaye (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 1988). Vol. 1. Chapter: [1]The Grumbling Hive: o r, Knaves turn’d Honest. a

  Accessed from oll.libertyfund.org/title/846/66863 on 2008-11-14

  The copyright to this edition, in both print and electronic forms, is held by Liberty Fund, Inc.

  ---

  [1]The Grumbling Hive: o r, Knaves turn’d Honest.a

  • A Spacious Hive well stockt with Bees,
  • That liv’d in Luxury and Ease;
  • And yet as fam’d for Laws and Arms,
  • As yielding large and early Swarms;
  • Was counted the great Nursery
  • Of Sciences and Industry.
  • No Bees had better Government,
  • More Fickleness, or less Content:
  • They were not Slaves to Tyranny,
  • Nor rul’d by wild Democracy;
  • [2]But Kings, that could not wrong, because
  • Their Power was circumscrib’d by Laws.
  • T h e s e Insects liv’d like Men, and all
  • Our Actions they perform’d in small:
  • They did whatever’s done in Town,
  • And what belongs to Sword or Gown:
  • Tho’ th’ Artful Works, by nimble Slight
  • Of minute Limbs, ’scap’d Human Sight;
  • Yet we’ve no Engines, Labourers,
  • Ships, Castles, Arms, Artificers,
  • Craft, Science, Shop, or Instrument,
  • But they had an Equivalent:
  • Which, since their Language is unknown,
  • Must be call’d, as we do our own.
  • As grant, that among other Things,
  • They wanted Dice, yet they had Kings;
  • And those had Guards; from whence we may
  • Justly conclude, they had some Play;
  • Unless a Regiment be shewn
  • Of Soldiers, that make use of none.
  • [3]Va s t Numbers throng’d the fruitful Hive;
  • Yet those vast Numbers made ’em thrive;
  • Millions endeavouring to supply
  • Each other’s Lust and Vanity;
  • While other Millions were employ’d,
  • To see their Handy-works destroy’d;
  • They furnish’d half the Universe;
  • Yet had more Work than Labourers.
  • Some with vast Stocks, and little Pains,
  • Jump’d into Business of great Gains;
  • And some were damn’d to Sythes and Spades,
  • And all those hard laborious Trades;
  • Where willing Wretches daily sweat,
  • And wear out Strength and Limbs to eat:
  • (A.)a While others follow’d Mysteries,
  • To which few Folks bind ’Prentices;
  • That want no Stock, but that of Brass,
  • And may set up without a Cross;1
  • As Sharpers, Parasites, Pimps, Players,
  • Pick-pockets, Coiners, Quacks, South-sayers, 2
  • [4]And all those, that in Enmity,
  • With downright Working, cunningly
  • Convert to their own Use the Labour
  • Of their good-natur’d heedless Neighbour.
  • (B.) These were call’d Knaves, but bar the Name,
  • The grave Industrious were the same:
  • All Trades and Places knew some Cheat,
  • No Calling was without Deceit.
  • T h e Lawyers, of whose Art the Basis
  • Was raising Feuds and splitting Cases,
  • Oppos’d all Registers, that Cheats
  • Might make more Work with dipt Estates; 1
  • As wer’t unlawful, that one’s own,
  • Without a Law-Suit, should be known.
  • They kept off Hearings wilfully,
  • To finger the refreshinga Fee;
  • And to defend a wicked Cause,
  • Examin’d and survey’d the Laws,
  • As Burglars Shops and Houses do,
  • To find out where they’d best break through.
  • [5]P h y s i c i a n s valu’d Fame and Wealth
  • Above the drooping Patient’s Health,
  • Or their own Skill: The greatest Part
  • Study’d, instead of Rules of Art,
  • Grave pensive Looks and dull Behaviour,
  • To gain th’ Apothecary’s Favour;
  • The Praise of Midwives, Priests, and all
  • That serv’d at Birth or Funeral.
  • To bear with th’ ever-talking Tribe,
  • And hear my Lady’s Aunt prescribe;
  • With formal Smile, and kind How d’ye,
  • To fawn on all the Family;
  • And, which of all the greatest Curse is,
  • T’ endure th’ Impertinence of Nurses.
  • A m o n g the many Priests of Jove,
  • Hir’d to draw Blessings from Above,
  • Some few were Learn’d and Eloquent,
  • But thousands Hot and Ignorant:
  • Yet all pass’d Muster that could hide
  • Their Sloth, Lust, Avarice and Pride;
  • [6]For which they were as fam’d as Tailors
  • For Cabbage, or for Brandy Sailors:a
  • Some, meagre-look’d, and meanly clad,
  • Would mystically pray for Bread,
  • Meaning by that an ample Store,
  • Yet lit’rally received no more;
  • And, while these holy Drudges starv’d,
  • The b lazy Ones, for which they serv’d,
  • Indulg’d their Ease, with all the Graces
  • Of Health and Plenty in their Faces.
  • (C.) T h e Soldiers, that were forc’d to fight,
  • If they surviv’d, got Honour by’t;
  • Tho’ some, that shunn’d the bloody Fray,
  • Had Limbs shot off, that ran away:
  • Some valiant Gen’rals fought the Foe;
  • Others took Bribes to let them go:
  • Some ventur’d always where ’twas warm,
  • Lost now a Leg, and then an Arm;
  • Till quite disabled, and put by,
  • They liv’d on half their Salary;
  • [7]While others never came in Play,
  • And staid at Home for double Pay.
  • T h e i r Kings were serv’d, but Knavishly,
  • Cheated by their own Ministry;
  • Many, that for their Welfare slaved,
  • Robbing the very Crown they saved:
  • Pensions were small, and they liv’d high,
  • Yet boasted of their Honesty.
  • Calling, whene’er they strain’d their Right,
  • The slipp’ry Trick a Perquisite;
  • And when Folks understood their Cant,
  • They chang’d that for Emolument;
  • Unwilling to be short or plain,
  • In any thing concerning Gain;
  • (D.) For there was not a Bee but would
  • Get more, I won’t say, than he should;
  • But than he dar’d to let them know,
  • (E.) That pay’d for’t; as your Gamesters do,
  • That, tho’ at fair Play, ne’er will own
  • Before the Losers what they’ve won.
  • [8]B u t who can all their Frauds repeat?
  • The very Stuff, which in the Street
  • They sold for Dirt t’enrich the Ground,
  • Was often by the Buyers found
  • Sophisticated with a quarter
  • Of good-for-nothing Stones and Mortar;
  • Tho’ Flail had little Cause to mutter,
  • Who sold the other Salt for Butter.
  • J u s t i c e her self, fam’d for fair Dealing,
  • By Blindness had not lost her Feeling;
  • Her Left Hand, which the Scales should hold,
  • Had often dropt ’em, brib’d with Gold;
  • And, tho’ she seem’d Impartial,
  • Where Punishment was corporal,
  • Pretended to a reg’lar Course,
  • In Murther, and all Crimes of Force;
  • Tho’ some, first pillory’d for Cheating,
  • Were hang’d in Hemp of their own beating;
  • Yet, it was thought, the Sword she bore
  • Check’d but the Desp’rate and the Poor;
  • [9]That, urg’d by meer Necessity,
  • Were ty’d up to the wretched Tree1
  • For Crimes, which not deserv’d that Fate,
  • But to secure the Rich and Great.
  • T h u s every Part was full of Vice,
  • Yet the whole Mass a Paradise;
  • Flatter’d in Peace, and fear’d in Wars,
  • They were th’ Esteem of Foreigners,
  • And lavish of their Wealth and Lives,
  • The Balance of all other Hives.
  • Such were the Blessings of that State;
  • Their Crimes conspir’d to make them a Great:
  • (F.) And Virtue, who from Politicks
  • Had learn’d a Thousand Cunning Tricks,
  • Was, by their happy Influence,
  • Made Friends with Vice: And ever since,
  • (G.) The worst of all the Multitude
  • Did something for the Common Good.
  • [10]T h i s was the States Craft, that maintain’d
  • The Whole of which each Part complain’d:
  • This, as in Musick Harmony,b
  • Made Jarrings in the main agree;c
  • (H.) Parties directly opposite,
  • Assist each other a , as ’twere for Spight;
  • And Temp’rance with Sobriety,
  • Serve Drunkenness and Gluttony.
  • ( I.) T h e Root of Evil, Avarice,
  • That damn’d ill-natur’d baneful Vice,
  • Was Slave to Prodigality,
  • (K.) That noble Sin; (L.) whilst Luxury
  • Employ’d a Million of the Poor,
  • (M.) And odious Pride a Million more:
  • (N.)b Envy it self, and Vanity,
  • Were Ministers of Industry;
  • Their darling Folly, Fickleness,
  • In Diet, Furniture and Dress,
  • That strange ridic’lous Vice, was made
  • The very Wheel that turn’d the Trade.
  • [11]Their Laws and Clothes were equally
  • Objects of Mutability;
  • For, what was well done for a time,
  • In half a Year became a Crime;
  • Yet while they alter’d thus their Laws,
  • Still finding and correcting Flaws,
  • They mended by Inconstancy
  • Faults, which no Prudence could foresee.
  • T h u s Vice nurs’d Ingenuity,
  • Which join’d with Time and Industry,
  • Had carry’d Life’s Conveniencies a ,
  • (O.)b It’s real Pleasures, Comforts, Ease,
  • (P.) c To such a Height, the very Poor
  • Liv’d better than the Rich before,1
  • And nothing could be added more.
  • H o w Vain is Mortal Happiness!
  • Had they but known the Bounds of Bliss;
  • And that Perfection here below
  • Is more than Gods can well bestow;
  • [12]The Grumbling Brutes had been content
  • With Ministers and Government.
  • But they, at every ill Success,
  • Like Creatures lost without Redress,
  • Curs’d Politicians, Armies, Fleets;
  • While every one cry’d, Damn the Cheats,
  • And would, tho’ conscious of his own,
  • In others barb’rously bear none.
  • O n e, that had got a Princely Store,
  • By cheating Master, King and Poor,
  • Dar’d cry aloud, The Land must sink
  • For all its Fraud; And whom d’ye think
  • The Sermonizing Rascal chid?
  • A Glover that sold Lamb for Kid.
  • The least thing was not done amiss,
  • Or cross’d the Publick Business;
  • But all the Rogues cry’d brazenly,
  • Good Gods, Had we but Honesty!
  • [13]Merc’ry smil’d at th’ Impudence,
  • And others call’d it want of Sense,
  • Always to rail at what they lov’d:
  • But Jove with Indignation mov’d,
  • At last in Anger swore, He’d rid
  • The bawling Hive of Fraud; and did.
  • The very Moment it departs,
  • And Honesty fills all their Hearts;
  • There shews ’em, like th’ Instructive Tree,
  • Those Crimes which they’re asham’d to see;
  • Which now in Silence they confess,
  • By blushing at their Ugliness:
  • Like Children, that would hide their Faults,
  • And by their Colour own their Thoughts:
  • Imag’ning, when they’re look’d upon,
  • That others see what they have done.
  • B u t, Oh ye Gods! What Consternation,
  • How vast and sudden was th’ Alteration!
  • In half an Hour, the Nation round,
  • Meat fell a Peny in the Pound.
  • [14]The Mask Hypocrisy’s flung down,
  • From the great Statesman to the Clown:
  • And some in borrow’d Looks well known,
  • Appear’d like Strangers in their own.
  • The Bar was silent from that Day;
  • For now the willing Debtors pay,
  • Ev’n what’s by Creditors forgot;
  • Who quitted them that had it not.
  • Those, that were in the Wrong, stood mute,
  • And dropt the patch’d vexatious Suit:
  • On which since nothing lessa can thrive,
  • Than Lawyers in an honest Hive,
  • All, except those that got enough,
  • With Inkhorns by their sides troop’d off.
  • J u s t i c e hang’d some, set others free;
  • And after Goal delivery,
  • Her Presence beingb no more requir’d,
  • With all her Train and Pomp retir’d.
  • First march’d some Smiths with Locks and Grates,
  • Fetters, and Doors with Iron Plates:
  • [15]Next Goalers, Turnkeys and Assistants:
  • Before the Goddess, at some distance,
  • Her chief and faithful Minister,
  • ’Squire Ca t c h,1 the Law’s great Finisher,
  • Bore not th’ imaginary Sword,2
  • But his own Tools, an Ax and Cord:
  • Then on a Cloud the Hood-wink’d Fair,
  • J u s t i c e her self was push’d by Air:
  • About her Chariot, and behind,
  • Were Serjeants, Bums3 of every kind,
  • Tip-staffs, and all those Officers,
  • That squeeze a Living out of Tears.
  • T h o’ Physick liv’d, while Folks were ill,
  • None would prescribe, but Bees of skill,
  • Which through the Hive dispers’d so wide,
  • That none of thema had need to ride;
  • Wav’d vain Disputes, and strove to free
  • The Patients of their Misery;
  • Left Drugs in cheating Countries grown,
  • And us’d the Product of their own;
  • [16]Knowing the Gods sent no Disease
  • To Nations without Remedies.
  • T h e i r Clergy rous’d from Laziness,
  • Laid not their Charge on Journey-Bees;1
  • But serv’d themselves, exempt from Vice,
  • The Gods with Pray’r and Sacrifice;
  • All those, that were unfit, or knew
  • Their Service might be spar’d, withdrew:
  • Nor was there Business for so many,
  • (If th’ Honest stand in need of any,)
  • Few only with the High-Priest staid,
  • To whom the rest Obedience paid:
  • Himself employ’d in Holy Cares,a
  • Resign’d to others State-Affairs.
  • He chas’d no Starv’ling from his Door,
  • Nor pinch’d the Wages of the Poor;
  • But at his House the Hungry’s fed,
  • The Hireling finds unmeasur’d Bread,
  • The needy Trav’ler Board and Bed.
  • [17]A m o n g the King’s great Ministers,
  • And all th’ inferior Officers
  • The Change was great; (Q)a for frugally
  • They now liv’d on their Salary:
  • That a poor Bee should ten times come
  • To ask his Due, a trifling Sum,
  • And by some well-hir’d Clerk be made
  • To give a Crown, or ne’er be paid,
  • Would now be call’d a downright Cheat,
  • Tho’ formerly a Perquisite.
  • All Places manag’d first by Three,
  • Who watch’d each other’s Knavery,
  • And often for a Fellow-feeling,
  • Promoted one another’s stealing,
  • Are happily supply’d by One,
  • By which some thousands more are gone.
  • (R.)b No Honour now could be content,
  • To live and owe for what was spent;
  • Liv’ries in Brokers Shops are hung,
  • They part with Coaches for a Song;
  • [18]Sell stately Horses by whole Sets;
  • And Country-Houses, to pay Debts.
  • V a i n Cost is shunn’d as much as Fraud;
  • They have no Forces kept Abroad;
  • Laugh at th’ Esteem of Foreigners,
  • And empty Glory got by Wars;
  • They fight, but for their Country’s sake,
  • When Right or Liberty’s at Stake.
  • N o w mind the glorious Hive, and see
  • How Honesty and Trade agree.
  • The Shew is gone, it thins apace;
  • And looks with quite another Face.
  • For ’twas not only that They went,
  • By whom vast Sums were Yearly spent;
  • But Multitudes that liv’d on them,
  • Were daily forc’d to do the same.
  • In vain to other Trades they’d fly;
  • All were o’er-stock’d accordingly.
  • [19]T h e Price of Land and Houses falls;
  • Mirac’lous Palaces, whose Walls,
  • Like those of Thebes, were rais’d by Play,1
  • Are to be let; while the once gay,
  • Well-seated Houshold Gods would be
  • More pleas’d to expirea in Flames, than see
  • The mean Inscription on the Door
  • Smile at the lofty ones they bore.
  • The building Trade is quite destroy’d,
  • Artificers are not employ’d;
  • (S.)b No Limner for his Art is fam’d,
  • Stone-cutters, Carvers are not nam’d.
  • T h o s e, that remain’d, grown temp’rate, strive,
  • Not how to spend, but how to live,
  • And, when they paid their Tavern Score,
  • Resolv’d to enter it no more:
  • No Vintner’s Jilt in all the Hive
  • Could wear now Cloth of Gold, and thrive;
  • Nor Torcol such vast Sums advance,
  • For Burgundy and Ortelans;
  • [20]The Courtier’s gone, that with his Miss
  • Supp’d at his House on Christmas Peas;
  • Spending as much in two Hours stay,
  • As keeps a Troop of Horse a Day.
  • T h e haughty Chloe, to live Great,
  • Had made her (T.)c Husband rob the State:
  • But now she sells her Furniture,
  • Which th’ Indies had been ransack’d for;
  • Contracts th’ expensive Bill of Fare,
  • And wears her strong Suit a whole Year:
  • The slight and fickle Age is past;
  • And Clothes, as well as Fashions, last.
  • Weavers, that join’d rich Silk with Plate,
  • And all the Trades subordinate,
  • Are gone. Still Peace and Plenty reign,
  • And every Thing is cheap, tho’ plain:
  • Kind Nature, free from Gard’ners Force,
  • Allows all Fruits in her own Course;
  • But Rarities cannot be had,
  • Where Pains to get thema are not paid.
  • [21]A s Pride and Luxury decrease,
  • So by degrees they leave the Seas.
  • Not Merchants now, butb Companies
  • Remove whole Manufactories.
  • All Arts and Crafts neglected lie;
  • (V.)c Content, the Bane of Industry,1
  • Makes ’em admire their homely Store,
  • And neither seek nor covet more.
  • S o few in the vast Hive remain,
  • The hundredth Part they can’t maintain
  • Against th’ Insults of numerous Foes;
  • Whom yet they valiantly oppose:
  • ’Till some well-fenc’d Retreat is found,
  • And here they die or stand their Ground.
  • No Hireling in their Army’s known;
  • But bravely fighting for their own,
  • Their Courage and Integrity
  • At last were crown’d with Victory.
  • They triumph’d not without their Cost,
  • For many Thousand Bees were lost.
  • [22]Hard’ned with Toils and Exercise,
  • They counted Ease it self a Vice;
  • Which so improv’d their Temperance;
  • That, to avoid Extravagance,
  • They flew into a hollow Tree,
  • Blest with Content and Honesty.

  [23]THE MORAL.

  • THENleave Complaints: Fools only strive
  • (X.) aTo make a Great an Honest Hive
  • (Y.) bT’ enjoy the World’s Conveniencies,c
  • Be fam’d in War, yet live in Ease,
  • Without great Vices, is a vain
  • Eutopiaseated in the Brain.
  • Fraud, Luxury and Pride must live,
  • While we the Benefits receive:
  • Hunger’s a dreadful Plague, no doubt,
  • Yet who digests or thrives without?
  • Do we not owe the Growth of Wine
  • To the dry shabby crookeddVine?
  • Which, while its Shoots neglected stood,
  • Chok’d other Plants, and ran to Wood;
  • But blest us with its noble Fruit,
  • As soon as it was ty’d and cut:
  • [24]So Vice is beneficial found,
  • When it’s by Justice lopt and bound;
  • Nay, where the People would be great,
  • As necessary to the State,
  • As Hunger is to make ’em eat.
  • Bare Virtue can’t make Nations live
  • In Splendor; they, that would revive
  • A Golden Age, must be as free,
  • For Acorns, as for Honesty.1

  FINIS.

  [a]: or, Knavesturn’d Honest] om. in heading, although present on title-page, 05

  [a](A.), (B.), etc.] No reference letters in 05

  [1]Without money. A cross was a small coin.

  [2]Cf. Butler’s posthumous Upon the Weakness and Misery of Man:

  • . . . bawds, whores, and usurers,
  • Pimps, scriv’ners, silenc’d ministers,
  • That get estates by being undone
  • For tender conscience, and have none,
  • Like those that with their credit drive
  • A trade, without a stock, and thrive . . .

  Had Mandeville perhaps seen a MS. of Butler’s poem (published 1759)? The poem, incidentally, stated,

  • Our holiest actions have been
  • Th’ effects of wickedness and sin . .

  [1]Mortgaged estates.

  [a]retaining 05

  [a]Sailors:] Sailors, 32

  [b]Some 05–23

  [1]Cf. Livy i. 26: ‘infelici arbori reste suspendito’; also Cicero, Pro C. Rabirio iv. 13.

  [a]’em 05

  [b]Harmony,] Harmony 25–32

  [c]agree;] agree, 32

  [a]oth’r 05

  [b](N.) om. 14

  [a]Conveniences 32

  [b](N.) 14

  [c](O.) 14

  [1]Of these lines and their elaboration in Remark P, I note two anticipations (not necessarily sources): ‘. . . a king of a large and fruitful territory there [America] feeds, lodges, and is clad worse than a day-labourer in England’ (Locke, Of Civil Government 11. v. 41); and ‘. . . a King of India is not so well lodg’d, and fed, and cloath’d, as a Day-labourer of England’ (Considerations on the East-India Trade, in Select Collection of Early English Tracts on Commerce, ed. Political Economy Club, 1856, p. 594).

  [a]else 32

  [b]be’ng 14–25

  [1]‘Jack Ketch’ had become a generic term for executioners.

  [2]Probably the sword of justice, although a note in the French translation explains it differently (ed. 1750, i. 21): ‘On ne se sert dans les executions en Angleterre que de la hache pour trancher la tête, jamais de l’Epée. C’est pour cela qu’il donne le nom d’imaginaire à cette Epée qu’on attribue au Bourreau.’

  [3]Bumbailiffs.

  [a]’em 05

  [1]‘Journeyman parson’ was a slang term for a curate.

  [a]Cares,] Cares; 24–32

  [a](P.) 14

  [b](Q.) 14

  [1]A footnote in the French translation (ed. 1750, i. 27) says: ‘L’Auteur veut parler des bâtimens élevés pour l’Opera & la Comèdie. Amphion, après avoir chassé Cadmus & sa Femme du lieu de leur demeure, y bâtit la Ville de Thèbes, en y attirant les pierres avec ordre & mesure, par l’harmonie merveilleuse de son divin Luth.’ It is possible, however, that Mandeville intended a pun on ‘Play’ as meaning both music and gambling.

  [a]to expire] t’expire 05–25

  [b](R.) 14

  [c](T.) om 14

  [a]’em 05–29

  [b]But 32

  [c](S.) 14

  [1]Compare Locke’s reflection: ‘When a man is perfectly content with the state he is in—which is when he is perfectly without any uneasiness—what industry, what action, what will is there left, but to continue in it? … And thus we see our all-wise Maker, suitably to our constitution and frame, and knowing what it is that determines the will, has put into man the uneasiness of hunger: and thirst, and other natural desires, that return at their seasons, to move and determine their wills, for the preservation of themselves, and the continuation of their species’ (Essay concerning Human Understanding, ed. Fraser, 1894, 11. xxi. 34).

  [a](T.) 14

  [b](V.) 14

  [c]Conveniences 32

  [d]shabby crooked] crooked, shabby 05

  [1]In its use of feminine endings the Grumbling Hive is less Hudibrastic than is Mandeville’s other verse, containing only some seven per cent of these endings as against the twenty per cent of Mandeville’s verse as a whole and the thirty-five per cent of his translations from Scarron in Typhon (1704) and Wishes to a Godson (1712). Perhaps Mandeville consciously imitated this feature of Hudibras, a poem which he twice quoted (Treatise, ed. 1711, p. 94, and Origin of Honour, p. 134) and whose author he called ‘the incomparable Butler’ (Treatise, p. 94).

• Back to Top

  3: Session IIb: Bernard Mandeville’s Fable of the Bees

  Read Remark T: “To live great, had made her husband rob the State.”

  Bernard Mandeville, The Fable of the Bees or Private Vices, Publick Benefits, 2 vols. With a Commentary Critical, Historical, and Explanatory by F.B. Kaye (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 1988). Vol. 1. Chapter: [45]REMARKS.

  Accessed from oll.libertyfund.org/title/846/66867 on 2008-11-14

  The copyright to this edition, in both print and electronic forms, is held by Liberty Fund, Inc.

  ---

  [45]REMARKS.

  (A.) Whilst others follow’d Mysteries, To which few Folks bind ’Prentices: Page 3. Line 15.

  IN the Education of Youth, in order to their getting of a Livelihood when they shall be arrived at Maturity, most People look out for some warrantable Employment or other, of which there are whole Bodies or Companies, in every large Society of Men. By this means all Arts and Sciences, as well as Trades and Handicrafts, are perpetuated in the Commonwealth, as long as they are found useful; the Young ones that are daily brought up to ’em, continually supplying the loss of the Old Ones that die. But some of these Employments being vastly more Creditable than others, according to the great difference of the Charges required to set up in each of them, all prudent Parents in the Choice of them chiefly consult [46]their own Abilities and the Circumstances they are in. A Man that gives Three or Four Hundred Pounds with his Son to a great Merchant, and has not Two or Three Thousand Pounds to spare against he is out of his Time to begin the World with, is much to blame not to have brought his Child up to something that might be follow’d with less Money.

  There are abundance of Men of a Genteel Education, that have but very small Revenues, and yet are forced, by their Reputable Callings, to make a greater Figure than ordinary People of twice their Income. If these have any Children, it often happens, that as their Indigence renders them incapable of bringing them up to Creditable Occupations, so their Pride makes ’em unwilling to put them out to any of the mean laborious Trades, and then, in hopes either of an Alteration in their Fortune, or that some Friends, or favourable Opportunity shall offer, they from time to time put off the disposing of them, ’till insensibly they come to be of Age, and are at last brought up to nothing. Whether this Neglect be more barbarous to the Children, or prejudicial to the Society, I shall not determine. At Athens all Children were forced to assist their Parents, if they came to Want: But Solon made a Law, that no Son should be oblig’d to relieve his Father, who had not bred him up to any Calling.1

  [47]Some Parents put out their Sons to good Trades very suitable to their then present Abilities, but happen to dy, or fail in the World, before their Children have finish’d their Apprenticeships, or are made fit for the Business they are to follow: A great many Young Men again on the other hand are handsomely provided for and set up for themselves, that yet (some for want of Industry or else a sufficient Knowledge in their Callings, others by indulging their Pleasures, and some few by Misfortunes) are reduced to Poverty, and altogether unable to maintain themselves by the Business they were brought up to. It is impossible but that the Neglects, Mismanagements and Misfortunes I named, must very frequently happen in Populous Places, and consequently great Numbers of People be daily flung unprovided for into the wide World, how Rich and Potent a Commonwealth may be, or what Care soever a Government may take to hinder it. How must these People be disposed of? The Sea, I know, and Armies, which the World is seldom without, will take off some. Those that are honest Drudges, and of a laborious Temper, will become Journey-men to the Trades they are of, or enter into some other Service: Such of them as study’d and were sent to the University, may become Schoolmasters, Tutors, and some few of them get into some Office or other: But [48]what must become of the Lazy that care for no manner of working, and the Fickle that hate to be confin’d to any Thing?

  Those that ever took Delight in Plays and Romances, and have a spice of Gentility, will, in all probability, throw their Eyes upon the Stage, and if they have a good Elocution with tolerable Mien, turn Actors. Some that love their Bellies above anya thing else, if they have a good Palate, and a little Knack at Cookery, will strive to get in with Gluttons and Epicures, learn to cringe and bear all manner of Usage, and so turn Parasites, ever flattering the Master, and making Mischief among the rest of the Family. Others, who by their own and Companions Lewdness judge of People’s Incontinence, will naturally fall to Intriguing, and endeavour to live by Pimping for such as either want Leisure or Address to speak for themselves. Those of the most abandon’d Principles of all, if they are sly and dextrous, turn Sharpers, Pick-pockets, or Coiners, if their Skill and Ingenuity give them leave. Others again, that have observ’d the Credulity of simple Women, and other foolish People, if they have Impudence and a little Cunning, either set up for Doctors, or else pretend to tell Fortunes; and every one turning the Vices and Frailties of others to his own Advantage, endeavours to pick up a Living the easiest and shortest way his Talent and Abilities will let him.

  [49]These are certainly the Bane of Civil Society; but they are Fools, who not considering what has been said, storm at the Remisness of the Laws that suffer them to live, while wise Men content themselves with taking all imaginable Care not to be circumvented by them, without quarrelling at what no human Prudence can prevent.

  (B.) These were call’d Knaves, But bar the Name, The grave Industrious were the same: Page 4. Line 5.

  THIS, I confess, is but a very indifferent Compliment to all the Trading Part of the People. But if the Word Knave may be understood in its full Latitude, and comprehend every Body that is not sincerely honest, and does to others what he would dislike to have done to himself, I don’t question but I shall make good the Charge. To pass by the innumerable Artifices, by which Buyers and Sellers out-wit one another, that are daily allowed of and practised among the fairest of Dealers, shew me the Tradesman that has always discover’d the Defects of his Goods to those that cheapen’d them; nay, where will you find one that has not at one time or other industri-[50]ously conceal’d them, to the detriment of the Buyer? Where is the Merchant that has never against his Conscience extoll’d his Wares beyond their Worth, to make them go off the better?

  Decio, a Man of great Figure, that had large Commissions for Sugar from several Parts beyond Sea, treats about a considerable parcel of that Commodity with Alcander an eminent West-India Merchant; both understood the Market very well, but could not agree: Decio was a Man of Substance, and thought no body ought to buy cheaper than himself; Alcander was the same, and not wanting Money, stood for his Price. While they were driving their Bargain at a Tavern near the Exchange, Alcander’s Man brought his Master a Letter from the West-Indies, that inform’d him of a much greater quantity of Sugars coming for England than was expected. Alcander now wish’d for nothing more than to sell at Decio’s Price, before the News was publick; but being a cunning Fox, that he might not seem too precipitant, nor yet lose his Customer, he drops the Discourse they were upon, and putting on a Jovial Humour, commends the Agreeableness of the Weather, from whence falling upon the Delight he took in his Gardens, invites Decio to go along with him to his Country-House, that was not above Twelve Miles from London. It was in the Month of [51]May, and, as it happened, upon a Saturday in the Afternoon: Decio, who was a single Man, and would have no Business in Town before Tuesday, accepts of the other’s Civility, and away they go in Alcander’s Coach. Decio was splendidly entertain’d that Night and the Day following; the Monday Morning, to get himself an Appetite, he goes to take the Air upon a Pad of Alcander’s, and coming back meets with a Gentleman of his Acquaintance, who tells him News was come the Night before that the Barbadoes Fleet was destroy’d by a Storm, and adds, that before he camea out it had been confirm’d at Lloyd’s Coffee-House,1 where it was thought Sugars would rise 25 per Cent. by Change-time. Decio returns to his Friend, and immediately resumes the Discourse they had broke off at the Tavern: Alcander, who thinking himself sure of his Chap, did not design to have moved it till after Dinner, was very glad to see himself so happily prev-ented ; but how desirous soever he was to sell, the other was yet more eager to buy; yet both of them afraid of one another, for a considerable time counterfeited all the Indifference imaginable; ’till at last Decio fired with what he had heard, thought Delays might prove dangerous, and throwing a Guinea upon the Table, struck the Bargain at Alcander’s Price. The next Day they went to London; the News prov’d [52]true, and Decio got Five Hundred Pounds by his Sugars. Alcander, whilst he had strove to over-reach the other, was paid in his own Coin: yet all this is called fair dealing; but I am sure neither of them would have desired to be done by, as they did to each other.

  (C.) The Soldiers that were forc’d to fight, If they surviv’d, got Honour by’t: Page 6. Line 11.

  SO unaccountable is the Desire to be thought well of in Men, that tho’ they are dragg’d into the War against their Will, and some of them for their Crimes, and are compell’d to fight with Threats, and often Blows, yet they would be esteem’d for what they would have avoided, if it had been in their Power: Whereas if Reason in Man was of equal weight with his Pride, he could never be pleas’d with Praises, which he is conscious he don’t deserve.

  By Honour, in its proper and genuine Signification, we mean nothing else but the good Opinion of others,1 which is counted more or less Substantial, the more or less Noise or Bustle there is made about the demonstration of it; and when we say the So-[53]vereign is the Fountain of Honour, it signifies that he has the Power, by Titles or Ceremonies, or both together, to stamp a Mark upon whom he pleases, that shall be as current as his Coin, and procure the Owner the good Opinion of every Body, whether he deserves it or not.

  The Reverse of Honour is Dishonour, or Ignominy, which consists in the bad Opinion and Contempt of others; and as the first is counted a Reward for good Actions, so this is esteem’d a Punishment for bad ones; and the more or less publick or heinous the manner is in which this Contempt of others is shewn, the more or less the Person so suffering is degraded by it. This Ignominy is likewise called Shame, from the Effect it produces; for tho’ the Good and Evil of Honour and Dishonour are imaginary, yet there is a Reality in Shame, as it signifies a Passion, that has its proper Symptoms, over-rules our Reason, and requires as much Labour and Self-denial to be subdued, as any of the rest; and since the most important Actions of Life often are regulated according to the Influence this Passion has upon us, a thorough Understanding of it must help to illustrate the Notions the World has of Honour and Ignominy. I shall therefore describe it at large.

  First, to define the Passion of Shame, I think it may be call’d a sorrowful Reflexion on our own Unworthiness, proceeding from an Appre-[54]hension that others either do, or might, if they knew all, deservedly despise us.1 The only Objection of weight that can be rais’d against this Definition is, that innocent Virgins are often asham’d, and blush when they are guilty of no Crime, and can give no manner of Reason for this Frailty: And that Men are often asham’d for others, for, or with whom, they have neither Friendship or Affinity, and consequently that there may be a thousand Instances of Shame given, to which the Words of the Definition are not applicable. To answer this, I would have it first consider’d, that the Modesty of Womena is the Result of Custom and Education, by which all unfashionable Denudations and filthy Expressions are render’d frightful and abominable to them, and that notwithstanding this, the most Virtuous Young Woman alive will often, in spite of her Teeth, have Thoughts and confus’d Ideas of Things arise in her Imagination, which she would not reveal to some People for a Thousand Worlds. Then, I say, that when obscene Words are spoken in the presence of an unexperienced Virgin, she is afraid that some Body will reckon her to understand what they mean, and consequently that she understands this and that and several things, which she desires to be thought ignorant of. The reflecting on this, and that Thoughts are forming to her Disadvantage, brings upon her that Passion which we call Shame; and what-[55]ever can fling her, tho’ never so remote from Lewdness, upon that Set of Thoughts I hinted, and which she thinks Criminal, will have the same Effect, especially before Men, as long as her Modesty lasts.

  To try the Truth of this, let them talk as much Bawdy as they please in the Room next to the same Virtuous Young Woman, where she is sure that she is undiscover’d, and she will hear, if not hearken to it, without blushing at all, because then she looks upon herself as no Party concern’d;1 and if the Discourse should stain her Cheeks with red, whatever her Innocence may imagine, it is certain that what occasions her Colour is a Passion not half so mortifying as that of Shame; but if in the same Place she hears something said of her self that must tend to her Disgrace, or any thing is named, of which she is secretly Guilty, then ’tis Ten to one but she’ll be ashamed and blush, tho’ no Body sees her; because she has room to fear, that she is, or, if all was known, should be thought of Contemptibly.

  That we are often asham’d, and blush for others, which was the second part of the Objection, is nothing else but that sometimes we make the Case of others too nearly our own; so People shriek out when they see others in danger: Whilst we are reflecting with too much earnest on the Effect which such a blameable Action, if it was ours, would produce in us, the Spirits, and consequently the Blood, are [56]insensibly moved after the same manner, as if the Action was our own, and so the same Symptoms must appear.1

  The Shame that raw, ignorant, and ill-bred People, tho’ seemingly without a Cause, discover before their Betters, is always accompanied with, and proceeds from a Consciousness of their Weakness and Inabilities; and the most modest Man, how Virtuous, Knowing, and Accomplish’d soever he might be, was never yet asham’d without some Guilt or Diffidence. Such as out of Rusticity, and want of Education are unreasonably subject to, and at every turn overcome by this Passion, we call bashful; and those who out of disrespect to others, and a false Opinion of their own Sufficiency, have learn’d not to be affected with it, when they should be, are call’d Impudent or Shameless. What strange Contradictions Man is made of! The Reverse of Shame is Pride, (see Remark M.a ) yet no Body can be touch’d with the first, that never felt any thing of the latter; for that we have such an extraordinary Concern in what others think of us, can proceed from nothing but the vast Esteem we have for our selves.

  That these two Passions,1 in which the Seeds of most Virtues are contained, are Realities in our Frame, and not imaginary Qualities, is demonstrable from the plain and different Effects, that in spite of our Reason are produced in us as soon as we are affected with either.

  [57]When a Man is overwhelm’d with Shame, he observes a sinking of the Spirits; the Heart feels cold and condensed, and the Blood flies from it to the Circumference of the Body; the Face glows, the Neck and Part of the Breast partake of the Fire: He is heavy as Lead; the Head is hung down, and the Eyes through a Mist of Confusion are fix’d on the Ground: No Injuries can move him; he is weary of his Being, and heartily wishes he could make himself invisible: But when, gratifying his Vanity, he exults in his Pride, he discovers quite contrary Symptoms; His Spirits swell and fan the Arterial Blood; a more than ordinary Warmth strengthens and dilates the Heart; the Extremities are cool; he feels light to himself, and imagines he could tread on Air; his Head is held up, his Eyes roll’d about with Sprightliness; he rejoices at his Being, is prone to Anger, and would be glad that all the World could take notice of him.a

  It is incredible how necessary an Ingredient Shame is to make us sociable; it is a Frailty in our Nature; all the World, whenever it affects them, submit to it with Regret, and would prevent it if they could; yet the Happiness of Conversation depends upon it, and no Society could be polish’d, if the Generality of Mankind wereb not subject to it. As therefore the Sense of Shame is troublesome, and all Creatures are ever labouring for [58]their own Defence, it is probable, that Man striving to avoid this Uneasiness would in a great measure conquer his Shame by that he was grown up; but this would be detrimental to the Society, and therefore from his Infancy throughout his Education, we endeavour to increase instead of lessening or destroying this Sense of Shame; and the only Remedy prescrib’d, is a strict Observance of certain Rules to avoid those Things that might bring this troublesome Sense of Shame upon him. But as to rid or cure him of it, the Politician would sooner take away his Life.

  The Rules I speak of consist in a dextrous Management of our selves, a stifling of our Appetites, and hiding the real Sentiments of our Hearts before others. Those who are not instructed in these Rules long before they come to Years of Maturity, seldom make any Progress in them afterwards. To acquire and bring to Perfection the Accomplishment I hint at, nothing is more assisting than Pride and good Sense. The Greediness we have after the Esteem of others, and the Raptures we enjoy in the Thoughts of being liked, and perhaps admired, are Equivalents that overpay the Conquest of the strongest Passions, and consequently keep us at a great Distance from all such Words or Actions that can bring Shame upon us. The Passions we chiefly ought to hide for the Happiness and Embellishment of the Society [59]are Lust, Pride, and Selfishness; therefore the Word Modesty has three different Acceptations, that vary with the Passions it conceals.

  As to the first, I mean that Branch of Modesty, that has a general Pretension to Chastity for its Object, it consists in a sincere and painful Endeavour, with all our Faculties to stifle and conceal before others that Inclination which Nature has given us to propagate our Species. The Lessons of it, like those of Grammar, are taught us long before we have occasion for, or understand the Usefulness of them; for this Reason Children often are ashamed, and blush out of Modesty, before the Impulse of Nature I hint at makes any Impression upon them. A Girl who is modestly educated, may, before she is two Years old, begin to observe how careful the Women, she converses with, are of covering themselves before Men; and the same Caution being inculcated to her by Precept, as well as Example, it is very probable that at Six she’ll be ashamed of shewing her Leg, without knowing any Reason why such an Act is blameable, or what the Tendency of it is.

  To be modest, we ought in the first place to avoid all unfashionable Denudations: A Woman is not to be found fault with for going with her Neck bare, if the Custom of the Country allows of it; and when the Mode [60]orders the Stays to be cut very low, a blooming Virgin may, without Fear of rational Censure, shew all the World;

  • How firm her pouting Breasts, that white as Snow,
  • On th’ ample Chest at mighty distance grow.1

  But to suffer her Ancle to be seen, where it is the Fashion for Women to hide their very Feet, is a Breach of Modesty; and she is impudent, who shews half her Face in a Country where Decency bids her to be veil’d. In the second, our Language must be chaste, and not only free, but remote from Obscenities, that is, whatever belongs to the Multiplication of our Species is not to be spoke of, and the least Word or Expression, that tho’ at a great Distance has any relation to that Performance, ought never to come from our Lips. Thirdly, all Postures and Motions that can any ways sully the Imagination, that is, put us in mind of what I have called Obscenities, are to be forebore with great Caution.

  A young Woman moreover, that would be thought well-bred, ought to be circumspect before Men in all her Behaviour, and never known to receive from, much less to bestow Favours upon them, unless the great Age of the Man, near Consanguinity, or a vast Superiority on either Side plead her Excuse. A young Lady of refin’d Education [61]keeps a strict Guard over her Looks, as well as Actions, and in her Eyes we may read a Consciousness that she has a Treasure about her, not out of Danger of being lost, and which yet she is resolv’d not to part with at any Terms. Thousand Satyrs have been made against Prudes, and as many Encomiums to extol the careless Graces, and negligent Air of virtuous Beauty. But the wiser sort of Mankind are well assured, that the free and open Countenance of the Smiling Fair, is more inviting, and yields greater Hopes to the Seducer, than the ever-watchful Look of a forbidding Eye.1

  This strict Reservedness is to be comply’d with by all young Women, especially Virgins, if they value the Esteem of the polite and knowing World; Men may take greater Liberty, because in them the Appetite is more violent and ungovernable. Had equal Harshness of Discipline been imposed upon both, neither of them could have made the first Advances, and Propagation must have stood still among all the Fashionable People: which being far from the Politician’s Aim, it was advisable to ease and indulge the Sex that suffer’d most by the Severity, and make the Rules abate of their Rigour, where the Passion was the strongest, and the Burthen of a strict Restraint would have been the most intolerable.

  For this Reason, the Man is allow’d openly to profess the Veneration and great Esteem [62]he has for Women, and shew greater Satisfaction, more Mirth and Gaiety in their Company, than he is used to do out of it. He may not only be complaisant and serviceable to them on all Occasions, but it is reckon’d his Duty to protect and defend them. He may praise the good Qualities they are possess’d of, and extol their Merit with as many Exaggerations as his Invention will let him, and are consistent with good Sense. He may talk of Love, he may sigh and complain of the Rigours of the Fair, and what his Tongue must not utter he has the Privilege to speak with his Eyes, and in that Language to say what he pleases; so it be done with Decency, and short abrupted Glances: But too closely to pursue a Woman, and fasten upon her with one’s Eyes, is counted very unmannerly; the Reason is plain, it makes her uneasy, and, if she be not sufficiently fortify’d by Art and Dissimulation, often throws her into visible Disorders. As the Eyes are the Windows of the Soul, so this staring Impudence flings a raw, unexperienc’d Woman into panick Fears, that she may be seen through; and thata the Man will discover, or has already betray’d, what passes within her: it keeps her on a perpetual Rack, that commands her to reveal her secret Wishes, and seems design’d to extort from her the grand Truth, which Modesty bids her with all her Faculties to deny.

  [63]The Multitude will hardly believe the excessive Force of Education, and in the difference of Modesty between Men and Women ascribe that to Nature, which a is altogether owing to early Instruction: Miss is scarce three Years old, but she is b spoke to every Day to hide her Leg, and rebuk’d in good Earnest if she shews it; while Little Master at the same Age is bid to take up his Coats, and piss like a Man. It is Shame and Education that containsc the Seeds of all Politeness, and he that has neither, and offers to speak the Truth of his Heart, and what he feels within, is the most contemptible Creature upon Earth, tho’ he committed no other Fault. If a Man should tell a Woman, that he could like no body so well to propagate his Species upon, as her self, and that he found a violent Desire that Moment to go about it, and accordingly offer’d to lay hold of her for that purpose; the Consequence would be, that he would be call’d a Brute, the Woman would run away, and himself never be admitted in any civil Company. There is no body that has any Sense of Shame, but would conquer the strongest Passion rather than be so serv’d. But a Man need not conquer his Passions, it is sufficient that he conceals them. Virtue bids us subdue, but good Breeding only requires we should hide our Appetites.1 A fashionable Gentleman may have as violent an Inclination to a Woman as the brutish Fellow; but then he[64] behaves himself quite otherwise; he first addresses the Lady’s Father, and demonstrates his Ability splendidly to maintain his Daughter; upon this he is admitted into her Company, where, by Flattery, Submissiona , Presents, and Assiduity, he endeavours to procure her Liking to his Person, which if he can compass, the Lady in a little while resigns her self to him before Witnesses in a most solemn manner; at Night they go to Bed together, where the most reserv’d Virgin very tamely suffers him to do what he pleases, and the upshot is, that he obtains what he wanted without having ever ask’d for it.

  The next Day they receive Visits, and no body laughs at them, or speaks a Word of what they have been doing. As to the young Couple themselves, they take no more Notice of one another, I speak of well-bred People, than they did the Day before; they eat and drink, divert themselves as usually, and having done nothing to be asham’d of, are look’d upon as, what in reality they may be, the most modest People upon Earth. What I mean by this, is to demonstrate, that by being well bred, we suffer no Abridgement in our sensual Pleasures, but only labour for our mutual Happiness, and assist each other in the luxurious Enjoyment of all worldly Comforts. The fine Gentleman I spoke of, need not practise any greater Self-Denial than the Savage, and the latter acted more according to the Laws [65]of Nature and Sincerity than the first. The Man that gratifies his Appetites after the manner the Custom of the Country allows of, has no Censure to fear. If he is hotter than Goats or Bulls, as soon as the Ceremony is over let him sate and fatigue himself with Joy and Ecstacies of Pleasure, raise and indulge his Appetites by turns as extravagantly as his Strength and Manhood will give him leave, he may with safety laugh at the Wise Men that should reprove him: all the Women and above Nine in Ten of the Men are of his side; nay he has the Liberty of valuing himself upon the Fury of his unbridled Passion, and the more he wallows in Lust and strains every Faculty to be abandonedly voluptuous, the sooner he shall have the Good-will and gain the Affection of the Women, not the Young, Vain and Lascivious only, but the Prudent, Grave and most Sober Matrons.

  Because Impudence is a Vice, it does not follow that Modesty is a Virtue; it is built upon Shame, a Passion in our Nature, and may be either Good or Bad according to the Actions perform’d from that Motive. Shame may hinder a Prostitute from yielding to a Man before Company, and the same Shame may cause a bashful good-natur’d Creature, that has been overcome by Frailty, to make away with her Infant. Passions may do Good by chance, but there can be no Merit but in the Conquest of them.

  [66]Was there Virtue in Modesty, it would be of the same force in the Dark as it is in the Light, which it is not. This the Men of Pleasure know very well, who never trouble their Heads with a Woman’s Virtue so they can but conquer her Modesty; Seducers therefore don’t make their Attacks at Noon-day, but cut their Trenches at Night.

  • Illa verecundis lux est præbenda puellis,
  • Qua timidus latebras sperat habere pudor.1

  People of Substance may Sin without being expos’d for their stolen Pleasure; but Servants and the Poorer sort of Women have seldom an Opportunity of concealing a Big Belly, or at least the Consequences of it. It is possible that an unfortunate Girl of good Parentage may be left destitute, and know noa Shift for a Livelihood than to become a Nursery, or a Chambermaid: She may be Diligent, Faithful and Obliging, have abundance of Modesty, and if you will, be Religious: She may resist Temptations, and preserve her Chastity for Years together, and yet at last meet with an unhappy Moment in which she gives up her Honour to a Powerful Deceiver, who afterwards neglects her. If she proves with Child, her Sorrows are unspeakable, and she can’t be reconcil’d with the Wretchedness of her Condition; the fear of Shame attacks her so lively, that every Thought distracts her. [67]All the Family she lives in have a great opinion of her Virtue, and her last Mistress took her for a Saint. How will her Enemies, that envied her Character, rejoice! how will her Relations detest her! The more modest she is now, and the more violently the dread of coming to Shame hurries her away, the more Wicked and more Cruel her Resolutions will be, either against her self or what she bears.

  It is commonly imagined, that she who can destroy her Child, her own Flesh and Blood, must have a vast stock of Barbarity, and be a Savage Monster, different from other Women; but this is likewise a mistake, which we commit for want of understanding Nature and the force of Passions. The same Woman that Murders her Bastard in the most execrable manner, if she is Married afterwards, may take care of, cherish and feel all the tenderness for her Infant that the fondest Mother can be capable of. All Mothers naturally love their Children: but as this is a Passion, and all Passions center in Self-Love, so it may be subdued by any Superior Passion, to sooth that same Self-Love, which if nothing had interven’d, would have bid her fondle her Offspring. Common Whores, whom all the World knows to be such, hardly ever destroy their Children; nay even those who assist in Robberies and Murders seldom are guilty of this Crime; not because they are less Cruel or more Virtuous, but because they[68] have lost their Modesty to a greater degree, and the fear of Shame makes hardly any Impression upon them.1

  Our Love to what never was within the reach of our Senses is but poor and inconsiderable, and therefore Women have no Natural Love to what they bear; their Affection begins after the Birth: what they feel before is the result of Reason, Education, and the Thoughts of Duty. Even when Children first are Born the Mother’s Love is but weak, and increases with the Sensibility of the Child, and grows up to a prodigious height, when by signs it begins to express his Sorrows and Joys, makes his Wants known, and discovers his Love to novelty and the multiplicity of his Desires. What Labours and Hazards have not Women undergone to maintain and save their Children, what Force and Fortitude beyond their Sex have they not shewn in their Behalf! but the vilest Women have exerted themselves on this head as violently as the best. All are prompted to it by a natural Drift and Inclination, without any Consideration of the Injury or Benefit the Society receives from it. There is no Merit in pleasing our selves, and the very Offspring is often irreparably ruin’d by the excessive Fondness of Parents: for tho’ Infants for two or three Years may be the better for this indulging Care of Mothers, yet afterwards, if not moderated, it may totally Spoil them, and many it has brought to the Gallows.

  [69]If the Reader thinks I have been too tedious on that Branch of Modesty, by the help of which we endeavour to appear Chaste, I shall make him amends in the Brevity with which I design to treat of the remaining part, by which we would make others believe, that the Esteem we have for them exceeds the Value we have for our selves, and that we have no Disregard so great to any Interest as we have to our own. This laudable quality is commonly known by the name of Manners and Good-breeding, and consists in a Fashionable Habit, acquir’d by Precept and Example, of flattering the Pride and Selfishness of others, and concealing our own with Judgment and Dexterity. This must be only understood of our Commerce with our Equals and Superiors, and whilst we are in Peace and Amity with them; for our Complaisance must never interfere with the Rules of Honour, nor the Homage that is due to us from Servants and others that depend upon us.

  With this Caution, I believe, that the Definition will quadrate with every thing that can be alledg’d as a piece or an example of either Good-breeding or Ill Manners; and it will be very difficult throughout the various Accidents of Human Life and Conversation to find out an instance of Modesty or Impudence that is not comprehended in, and illustrated by it, in [70]all Countries and in all Ages. A Man that asks considerable Favours of one who is a Stranger to him, without consideration, is call’d Impudent, because he shews openly his Selfishness without having any regard to the Selfishness of the other. We may see in it likewise the Reason why a Man ought to speak of his Wife and Children, and every thing that is dear to him, as sparinglya as is possible, and hardly ever of himself, especially in Commendation of them. A well-bred Man may be desirous, and even greedy after Praise and the Esteem of others, but to be prais’d to his Face offends his Modesty: the Reason is this; all Human Creatures, before they are yet polish’d, receive an extraordinary Pleasure in hearing themselves prais’d: this we are all conscious of, and therefore when we see a Man openly enjoy and feast on this Delight, in which we have no share, it rouses our Selfishness, and immediately we begin to Envy and Hate him. For this reason the well-bred Man con-ceals his Joy, and utterly denies that he feels any, and by this means consulting and soothing our Selfishness, he averts that Envy and Hatred, which otherwise he would have justly to fear. When from our Childhood we observe how those are ridicul’d who calmly can hear their own Praises, it is possible that we may so strenuously endeavour to avoid that Pleasure, that in tract of time we grow[71] uneasy at the approach of it: but this is not following the Dictates of Nature, but warping her by Education and Custom; for if the generality of Mankind took no delight in being prais’d, there could be no Modesty in refusing to hear it.

  The Man of Manners picks not the best but rather takes the worst out of the Dish, and gets of every thing, unless it be forc’d upon him, always the most indifferent Share. By this Civility the Best remains for others, which being a Compliment to all that are present, every Body is pleas’d with it: The more they love themselves, the more they are forc’d to approve of his Behaviour, and Gratitude stepping in, they are oblig’d almost whether they will or not, to think favourably of him. After this manner it is that the well-bred Man insinuates himself in the esteem of all the Companies he comes in, and if he gets nothing else by it, the Pleasure he receives in reflecting on the Applause which he knows is secretly given him, is to a Proud Man more than an Equivalent for his former Self-denial, and over-pays to Self-love with Interest, the loss it sustain’d in his Complaisance to others.

  If there are Seven or Eight Apples or Peaches among Six People of Ceremony, that are pretty near equal, he who is prevail’d upon to choose first, will take that, which, if there be any considerable difference, a Child would know to be the worst: this he does to insinuate, that he [72]looks upon those he is with to be of Superior Merit, and that there is not one whom he wishes not better to than he does to himself. ’Tis Custom and a general Practice that makes this Modish Deceit familiar to us, without being shock’d at the Absurdity of it; for if People had been used to speak from the Sincerity of their Hearts, and act according to the natural Sentiments they felt within, ’till they were Three or Four and Twenty, it would be impossible for them to assist at this Comedy of Manners, without either loud Laughter or Indignation; and yet it is certain, that sucha Behaviour makes us more tolerable to one another than we could be otherwise.

  It is very Advantageous to the Knowledge of our selves, to be able well to distinguish between good Qualities and Virtues. The Bond of Society exacts from every Member a certain Regard for others, which the Highest is not exempt from in the presence of the Meanest even in an Empire: but when we are by our selves, and so far remov’d from Company as to be beyond the Reach of their Senses, the Words Modesty and Impudence lose their meaning; a Person may be Wicked, but he cannot be Immodest while he is alone, and no Thought can be Impudent that never was communicated to another. A Man of Exalted Pride may so hide it, that no Body shall be able to discover that he has any; and yet receive greater Satisfaction [73]from that Passion than another, who indulges himself in the Declaration of it before all the World. Good Manners have nothing to do with Virtue or Religion; instead of extinguishing, they rather inflame the Passions. The Man of Sense and Education never exults more in his Pride than when he hides it with the greatest Dexterity;1 and in feasting on the Applause, which he is sure all good Judges will pay to his Behaviour, he enjoys a Pleasure altogether unknown to the Short-sighted, surly Alderman, that shews his Haughtiness glaringly in his Face, pulls off his Hat to no Body, and hardly deigns to speak to an Inferior.

  A Man may carefully avoid every thing that in the Eye of the World is esteem’d to be the Result of Pride, without mortifying himself, or making the least Conquest of his Passion. It is possible that he only sacrifices the insipid outward Part of his Pride, which none but silly ignorant People take delight in, to that part we all feel within, and which the Men of the highest Spirit and most exalted Genius feed on with so much ecstacy in silence. The Pride of Great and Polite Men is no where more conspicuous than in the Debates about Ceremony and Precedency, where they have an Opportunity of giving their Vices the Appearance of Virtues, and can make the World believe that it a is their Care, their Tenderness for the Dignity of their Office, or the Ho-[74]nour of their Masters, what is the Result of their own personal Pride and Vanity. This is most manifest in all Negotiations of Ambassadors and Plenipotentiaries, and must be known by all that observe what is transacted at publick Treaties; and it will ever be true, that Men of the best Taste have no Relish in their Pride as long as any Mortal can find out that they are Proud.

  (D.)

  For there was not a Bee but b would Get more, I won’t c say, than he should; But than,d &c.: Page 7. Line 15.

  THE vast Esteem we have of e our selves, and the small Value we have for others, make us all very unfair Judges in our own Cases. Few Men can be persuaded that they get too much by those they sell to, how Extraordinary soever their Gains are, when at the same time there is hardly a Profit so inconsiderable, but they’ll grudge it to those they buy from; for this Reason the Smallness of the Seller’s Advantage being the greatest persuasive to the Buyer, Tradesmen are generally forc’d to tell Lies in their own Defence, and invent a thousand improbable Stories, rather than disco-[75]ver what they really get by their Commodities. Some Old Standers indeed that pretend to more Honesty, (or what is more likely, have more Pride) than their Neighbours, are used to make but few Words with their Customers, and refuse to sell at a lower Price than what they ask at first. But these are commonly Cunning Foxes that are above the World, and know that those who have Money, get often more by being surly, than others by being obliging. The Vulgar imagine they can find more Sincerity in the sour Looks of a grave old Fellow, than there appears in the submissive Air and inviting Complacency of a Young Biginner. But this is a grand Mistake; and if they are Mercers, Drapers, or others, that have many sorts of the same Commodity, you may soon be satisfied; look upon their Goods and you’ll find each of them have their private Marks, which is a certain Sign that both are equally careful in concealing the prime Cost of what they sell.1

  [76](E.)—— —— As your Gamesters do, Who, tho’ at fair Play, ne’er will own Before the Losers what they’ve won: Page 7. Line 18.

  THIS being a general Practice which no Body can be ignorant of that has ever seen any Play, there must be something in the Make of Man that is the Occasion of it: But as the searching into this will seem very trifling to many, I desire the Reader to skip this Remark, unless he be in perfect good Humour, and has nothing at all to do.

  That Gamesters generally endeavour to conceal their Gains before the Losers, seems to me to proceed from a mixture of Gratitude, Pity, and Self-Preservation. All Men are naturally grateful while they receive a Benefit, and what they say or do, while it affects and feels warm about them, is real, and comes from the Heart; but when that is over, the Returns we make generally proceed from Virtue, good Manners, Reason, and the Thoughts of Duty, but not from Gratitude, which is a Motive of the Inclination. If we consider, how tyrannically the immoderate Love we bear to our selves, obliges [77]us to esteem every body that with or without design acts in our favour, and how often we extend our affection to things inanimate, when we imagine them to contribute to our present Advantage: If, I say, we consider this, it will not be difficult to find out which way our being pleased with those whose Money we win is owing to a Principle of Gratitude. The next Motive is our Pity, which proceeds from our consciousness of the Vexation there is in losing; and as we love the Esteem of every body, we are afraid of forfeiting theirs by being the Cause of their Loss. Lastly, we apprehend their Envy, and so Self-Preservation makes that we strive to extenuate first the Obligation, then the Reason why we ought to Pity, in hopes that we shall have less of their Ill-will and Envy. When the Passions shew themselves in their full Strength, they are known by every body: When a Man in Power gives a great Place to one that did him a small kindness in his Youth, we call it Gratitude: When a Woman howls and wrings her Hands at the loss of her Child, the prevalent Passion is Grief; and the Uneasiness we feel at the sight of great Misfortunes, as a Man’s breaking his Legs a or dashing his Brains out, is every where call’d Pity. But the gentle strokes, the slight touches of the Passions, are generally overlook’d or mistaken.

  [78]To prove my Assertion, we have but to observe what generally passes between the Winner and the Loser.a The first is always Complaisant, and if the other will but keep his Temper, more than ordinarily obliging; he is ever ready to humour the Loser, and willing to rectify his Mistakes with Precaution, and the Height of good Manners. The Loser is uneasy, captious, morose, and perhaps Swears and Storms; yet as long as he says or does nothing designedly affronting, the Winner takes all in good part, without offending, disturbing, or contradicting him. Losers, says the Proverb, must have leave to rail:1 All which shews, that the Loser is thought in the Right to complain, and for that veryb Reason pity’d. That we are afraid of the Loser’s Ill-will is plain from our being conscious that we are displeased with those we lose to, and Envy we always dread when we think our selves happier than others: From whence it follows, that when the Winner endevours to conceal his Gains, his design is to avert the Mischiefs he apprehends, and this is Self-Preservation; the Cares of which continue to affect us as long as the Motives that first produced them remain.

  But a Month, a Week, or perhaps a much shorter time after, when the Thoughts of the Obligation, and consequently the Winner’s Gratitude are worn off, when the Loser has recover’d his Temper, laughs at his Loss, [79]and the Reason of the Winner’s Pity ceases; when the Winner’s apprehension of drawing upon him the Ill-will and Envy of the Loser is gone; that is to say, as soon as all the Passions are over, and the Cares of Self-Preservation employ the Winner’s Thoughts no longer, he’ll not only make no scruple of a owning what he has won, but will, if his Vanity steps in, likewise, with Pleasure, brag of, if not exaggerate his Gains.

  It is possible, that when People play together who are at Enmity, and perhaps desirous of picking a Quarrel, or where Men playing for Trifles contend for Superiority of Skill, and aim chiefly at the Glory of Conquest, nothing shall happen of what I have been talking of. Different Passions oblige us to take different Measures; what I have said I would have understood of ordinary Play for Money, at which Men endeavour to get, and venture to lose what they value: And even here I know it will be objected by many, that tho’ they have been guilty of concealing their Gains, yet they never observ’d those Passions which I alledge as the Causes of that Frailty; which is no wonder, because few Men will give themselves leisure, and fewer yet take the right Method of examining themselves as they should do. It is with the Passions in Men as it is with Colours in Cloth: It is easy to know a Red, a Green, a Blue, a Yellow, a Black, &c. in[80] as many different Places b ; but it must be an Artist that can unravel all the various Colours and their Proportions, that make up the Compound of a well-mix’d Cloth. In the same manner may the Passions be discover’d by every Body whilst they are distinct, and a single one employs the whole Man; but it is very difficult to trace every Motive of those Actions that are the Result of a mixture of Passions.

  (F.) And Virtue, who from Politicks Had learn’d a thousand cunning Tricks, Was, by their happy Influence, Made Friends with Vice: —— Page 9. Line 13.

  IT may be said, that Virtue is made Friends with Vice, when industrious good People, who maintain their Families and bring up their Children handsomely, pay Taxes, and are several ways useful Members of the Society, get a Livelihood by something that chiefly depends on, or is very much influenc’d by the Vices of others, without being themselves guilty of, or accessary to them, any otherwise than by way of Trade, as a Druggist may be to Poisoning, or a Sword-Cutler to Blood-shed.

  [81]Thus the Merchant, that sends Corn or Cloth into Foreign Parts to purchase Wines and Brandies, encourages the Growth or Manufactury of his own Country; he is a Benefactor to Navigation, increases the Customs, and is many ways beneficial to the Publick; yet it is not to be denied but that his greatest Dependence is Lavishness and Drunkenness: For if none were to drink Wine but such only as stand in need of it, nor any Body more than his Health requir’d, that Multitude of Wine-Merchants, Vintners, Coopers, &c. that make such a considerable Shew in this flourishing City, would be in a miserable Condition. The same may be said not only of Card and Dice-makers, that are the immediate Ministers to a Legion of Vices; but a of Mercers, Upholsterers, Tailors, and many others, that would be starv’d in half a Year’s time, if Pride and Luxury were at once to be banished the Nation.

  [82](G.) The worst of all the Multitude Did something for the Common Good: Page 9. Line 17.

  THIS, I know, will seem to be a strange Paradox to many; and I shall be ask’d what Benefit the Publick receives from Thieves and House-breakers. They are, I own, very pernicious to Human Society, and every Government ought to take all imaginable Care to roota out and destroy them; yet if all People were strictly honest, and no body would meddle with or pry into any thing but his own, half the Smiths of the Nation would want Employment; and abundance of Workmanship (which now serves for Ornament as well as Defence) is to be seen every where both in Town and Country, that would never have been thought of, but to secure us against the Attempts of Pilferers and Robbers.b

  If what I have said be thought far fetch’d, and my Assertion seems still a Paradox, I desire the Reader to look upon the Consumption of things, and he’ll find that the laziest and most unactive, the profligate and most mischievous are all forc’d to do something for the common good, and whilst their Mouths are not [83]sow’d up, and they continue to wear and otherwise destroy what the Industrious are daily employ’d about to make, fetch and procure, in spight of their Teeth oblig’d to help maintain the Poor and the publick Charges. The Labour of Millions would soon be at an End, if there were not other Millions, as I say, in the Fable,

  • —— —— —— Employ’d,
  • To see their Handy-works destroy’d.1

  But Men are not to be judg’d by the Consequences that may succeed their Actions, but the Facts themselves, and the Motives which it shall appear they acted from. If an ill-natur’d Miser, who is almost a Plumb,1 and spends but Fifty Pounds a Year, tho’ he has no Relation to inherit his Wealth, should be Robb’d of Five Hundred or a Thousand Guineas, it is certain that as soon as this Money should come to circulate, the Nation would be the better for the Robbery, and receive the same and as real a Benefit from it, as if an Archbishop had left the same Sum to the Publick; yet Justice and the Peace of the Society require that he or they who robb’d the Miser should be hang’d, tho’ there were half a Dozen of ’em concern’d.

  Thieves and Pick-pockets steal for a Livelihood, and either what they can get Honestly is not sufficient to keep them, or else they have an Aversion to constant Working: they [84]want to gratify their Senses, have Victuals, Strong Drink, Lewd Women, and to be Idle when they please. The Victualler, who entertains them and takes their Money, knowing which way they come at it, is very near as great a Villain as his Guests. But if he fleeces them well, minds his Business and is a prudent Man, he may get Money and be punctual with them he deals with: The Trusty Out-Clerk, whose chief aim is his Master’s Profit, sends him in what Beer he wants, and takes care not to lose his Custom; while the Man’s Money is good, he thinks it no Business of his to examine whom he gets it by. In the mean time the Wealthy Brewer, who leaves all the Management to his Servants, knows nothing of the matter, but keeps his Coach, treats his Friends, and enjoys his Pleasure with Ease and a good Conscience, he gets an Estate, builds Houses, and educates his Children in Plenty, without ever thinking on the Labour which Wretches perform, the Shifts Fools make, and the Tricks Knaves play to come at the Commodity, by the vast Sale of which he amasses his great Riches.

  A Highwayman having met with a considerable Booty, gives a poor common Harlot, he fancies, Ten Pounds to new-rig her from Top to Toe; is there a spruce Mercer so conscientious that he will refuse to sell her a Thread Sattin, tho’ he knew who she was? She must have Shoes and Stockings, Gloves, the Stay [85]and Mantua-maker, the Sempstress, the Linen- Draper, all must get something by her, and a hundred different Tradesmen dependent on those she laid her Money out with, may touch Part of it before a Month is at an end. The Generous Gentleman, in the mean time, his Money being near spent, ventur’d again on the Road, but the Second Day having committed a Robbery near Highgate, he was taken with one of his Accomplices, and the next Sessions both were condemn’d, and suffer’d the Law. The Money due on their Conviction fell to three Country Fellows, on whom it was admirably well bestow’d. One was an Honest Farmer, a Sober Pains-taking Man, but reduced by Misfortunes: The Summer before, by the Mortality among the Cattle, he had lost Six Cows out of Ten, and now his Landlord, to whom he ow’d Thirty Pounds, had seiz’d on all his Stock. The other was a Day-Labourer, who struggled hard with the World, had a sick Wife at Home and several small Children to provide for. The Third was a Gentleman’s Gardener, who maintain’d his Father in Prison, where being Bound for a Neighbour he had lain for Twelve Pounds almost a Year and a Half; this Act of Filial Duty was the more meritorious, because he had for some time been engaged to a young Woman whose Parents liv’d in good Circumstances, but would not give their Consent before our Gardener had Fifty Guineas of his own [86]to shew. They received above Fourscore Pounds each, which extricated every one of them out of the Difficulties they laboured under, and made them in their Opinion the happiest People in the World.

  Nothing is more destructive, either in regard to the Health or the Vigilance and Industry of the Poor than the infamous Liquor, the name of which, deriv’d from Junipera in Dutch, is now by frequent use and the Laconick Spirit of the Nation, from a Word of middling Length shrunk into a Monosyllable,1 Intoxicating Gin, that charms the unactive, the desperate and crazyb of either Sex, and makes the starving Sot behold his Rags and Nakedness with stupid Indolence, or banter both in senseless Laughter, and more insipid Jests: It is a fiery Lake that sets the Brain in Flame, burns up the Entrails, and scorches every Part within; and at the same time a Lethe of Oblivion, in which the Wretch immers’d drowns his most pinching Cares, and with his Reason all anxious Reflexion on Brats that cry for Food, hard Winters Frosts, and horrid empty Home.

  In hot and adust2 Tempers it makes Men Quarrelsome, renders ’em Brutes and Savages, sets ’em on to fight for nothing, and has often been the Cause of Murder. It has broke and destroy’d the strongest Constitutions, thrown ’em into Consumptions, and been the [87]fatal and immediate occasion of Apoplexies, Phrensies and sudden Death. But as these latter Mischiefs happen but seldom, they might be overlook’d and conniv’d at, but this cannot be said of the many Diseases that are familiar to the Liquor, and which are daily and hourly produced by it; such as Loss of Appetite, Fevers, Black and Yellow Jaundice, Convulsions, Stone and Gravel, Dropsies, and Leucophlegmacies.

  Among the doting Admirers of this Liquid Poison, many of the meanest Rank, from a sincere Affection to the Commodity it self, become Dealers in it, and take delight to help others to what they love themselves, as Whores commence Bawds to make the Profits of one Trade subservient to the Pleasures of the other. But as these Starvelings commonly drink more than their Gains, they seldom by selling mend the wretchedness of Condition they labour’d under while they were only Buyers. In the Fag-end and Out-skirts of the Town, and all Places of the vilest Resort, it’s a sold in some part or other of almost every House, frequently in Cellars, and sometimes in the Garret. The petty Traders in this Stygian Comfort are supply’db by others in somewhat higher Station, that keep profess’d Brandy Shops, and are as little to be envy’d as the former; and among the middling People, I know not a more miserable Shift for a Livelihood thanc their Calling; whoever would thrive [88]in it must in the first place be of a watchful and suspicious, as well as a bold and resolute Temper, that he may not be imposed upon by Cheats and Sharpers, nor out-bully’d by the Oaths and Imprecations of Hackney-Coachmen and Foot-Soldiers; in the second, he ought to be a dabster at gross Jokes and loud Laughter, and have all the winning Ways to allure Customers and draw out their Money, and be well vers’d in the low Jests and Ralleries the Mob maked use of to banter Prudence and Frugality. He must be affable and obsequious to the most despicable; always ready and officious to help a Porter down with his Load, shake Hands with a Basket-Woman, pull off his Hat to an Oyster-Wench, and be familiar with a Beggar; with Patience and good Humour he must be able to endure the filthy Actions and viler Language of nasty Drabs, and the lewdest Rake-hells, and without a Frown or the least Aversion bear with all the Stench and Squalor, Noise and Impertinence that the utmost Indigence, Laziness and Ebriety, can produce in the most shameless and abandon’d Vulgar.

  The vast Number of the Shops I speak of throughout the City and Suburbs, are an astonishing Evidence of the many Seducers, that in a Lawful Occupation are accessary to the Introduction and Increase of all the Sloth, Sottishness, Want and Misery, which the Abuse of Strong Waters is the immediate Cause of, to[89] lift above Mediocrity perhaps half a score Men that deal in the same Commodity by wholesale, while among the Retailers, tho’ qualify’d as I requir’d, a much greater Number are broke and ruin’d, for not abstaining from the Circean Cup they hold out to others, and the more fortunate are their whole Lifetime obliged to take the uncommon Pains, endure the Hardships, and swallow all the ungrateful and shocking Things I named, for little or nothing beyond a bare Sustenance, and their daily Bread.

  The short-sighted Vulgar in the Chain of Causes seldom can see further than one Link; but those who can enlarge their View, and will give themselves the Leisure of gazing on the Prospect of concatenated Events, may, in a hundred Places, see Good spring up and pullulate from Evil, as naturally as Chickens do from Eggs. The Money that arises from the Duties upon Malt is a considerable Part of the National Revenue, and should no Spirits be distill’d from it, the Publick Treasure would prodigiously suffer on that Head. But if we would set in a true Light the many Advantages, and large Catalogue of solid Blessings that accrue from, and are owing to the Evil I treat of, we are to consider the Rents that are received, the Ground that is till’d, the Tools that are made, the Cattle that are employ’d, and above all, the Multitude of Poor that are maintain’d, by the Variety of La-[90]bour, requireda in Husbandry, in Malting, in Carriage and Distillation, before we can have the a Product of Malt, which we call Low Wines, and is but the Beginning from which the various Spirits are afterwards to be made.

  Besides this, a sharp-sighted good-humour’d Man might pick up abundance of Good from the Rubbish, which I have all flung away for Evil. He would tell me, that whatever Sloth and Sottishness might be occasion’d by the Abuse of Malt-Spirits, the moderate Use of it was of inestimable Benefit to the Poor, who could purchase no Cordials of higher Prices, that it was an universal Comfort, not only in Cold and Weariness, but most of the Afflictions that are peculiar to the Necessitous, and had often to the most destitute supply’d the Places of Meat, Drink, Clothes, and Lodging. That the stupid Indolence in the most wretched Condition occasion’d by those composing Draughts, which I complain’d of, was a Blessing to Thousands, for that certainly those were the happiest, who felt the least Pain. As to Diseases, he would say, that, as it caused some, so it cured others, and that if the Excess in those Liquors had been sudden Death to some few, the Habit of drinking them daily prolong’d the Lives of many, whom once it agreed with; that for the Loss sustain’d from the insignificant Quarrels it created at home, we were overpaid in the Advantage we receiv’d from it abroad, by upholding the[91] Courage of Soldiers, and animating the Sailors to the Combat; and that in the two last Wars no considerable Victory had been obtain’d without.

  To the dismal Account I have given of the Retailers, and what they are forc’d to submit to, he would answer, that not many acquired more than middling Riches in any Trade, and that what I had counted so offensive and intolerable in the Calling, was trifling to those who were used to it; that what seem’d irksome and calamitous to some, was delightful and often ravishing to others; as Men differ’d in Circumstances and Education. He would put me in mind, that the Profit of an Employment ever made amends for the Toil and Labour that belong’d to it, nor forget, Dulcis odor lucri è re qualibet;1 or to tell me, that the Smell of Gain was fragrant even to Night-Workers.

  If I should ever urge to him, that to have here and there one great and eminent Distiller, was a poor equivalent for the vile Means, the certain Want, and lasting Misery of so many thousand Wretches, as were necessary to raise them, he would answer, that of this I could be no Judge, because I don’t know what vast Benefit they might afterwards be of to the Commonwealth. Perhaps, would he say, the Man thus rais’d will exert himself in the Commission of the Peace, or other Station, with Vigilance and Zeal against the Dissolute and [92]Disaffected, and retaining his stirring Temper, be as industrious in spreading Loyalty, and the Reformation of Manners throughout every cranny of the wide populous Town, as once he was in filling it with Spirits; till he becomes at last the Scourge of Whores, of Vagabonds and Beggars, the Terrour of Rioters and discontented Rabbles, and constant Plague to Sabbath-breaking Butchers. Here my good-humour’d Antagonist would Exult and Triumph over me, especially if he could instance to me such a bright Example.a What an uncommon Blessing, would he cry out, is this Man to his Country! how shining and illustrious his Virtue!

  To justify his Exclamation he would demonstrate to me, that it was impossible to give a fuller Evidence of Self-denial in a grateful Mind, than to see him at the expence of his Quiet and hazard of his Life and Limbs, be always harassing, and even for Trifles persecuting that very Class of Men to whom he owes his Fortune, from no other Motive than his Aversion to Idleness, and great Concern for Religion and the Publick Welfare.

  [93](H.) Parties directly opposite, Assist each other, as ’twere for spight: Page 10. Line 5.

  NOthing was more instrumental in forwarding the Reformation, than the Sloth and Stupidity of the Roman Clergy; yet the same Reformation has rous’d ’em from the Laziness and Ignorance they then labour’d under; and the Followers of Luther, Calvin, and others, may be said to have reform’d not only those whom they drew in to their Sentiment,a but likewise those whob remain’d their greatest Opposers.1 The Clergy of England by being severe upon the Schismaticks, and upbraiding them with want of Learning, have raised themselves such formidable Enemies as are not easily answer’d; and again, the Dissenters by prying into the Lives, and diligently watching all the Actions of their powerful Antagonists, render those of the Establish’d Church more cautious of giving Offence, than in all probability they would, if they had no malicious Over-lookers to fear. It is very much owing to the great number of Hugonots that have always been in France, since the late utter Extirpation of them,2 that that Kingdom has a less dissolute and more learn’d[94] Clergy to boast of than any other Roman Catholick Country. The Clergy of that Church are no where more Sovereign than in Italy, and therefore no where more debauch’d; nor any where more Ignorant than they are in Spain, because their Doctrine is no where less oppos’d.

  Who would imagine, that Virtuous Women, unknowingly, should be instrumental in promoting the Advantage of Prostitutes? Or (what still seems the greater Paradox) that Incontinence should be made serviceable to the Preservation of Chastity? and yet nothing is more true. A vicious young Fellow, after having been an Hour or two at Church, a Ball, or any other Assembly, where there is a great parcel of handsome Women dress’d to the best Advantage, will have his Imagination more fired than if he had the same time been Poling at Guildhall,1 or walking in the Country among a Flock of Sheep. The consequence of this is, that he’ll strive to satisfy the Appetite that is raised in him; and when he finds honest Women obstinate and uncomatable,2 ’tis very natural to think, that he’ll hasten to others that are more compliable. Who wou’d so much as surmise, that this is the Fault of the Virtuous Women? They have no Thoughts of Men in dressing themselves, Poor Souls, and endeavour only to appear clean and decent, every one according to her Quality.a

  [95]I am far from encouraging Vice, and think it would be an unspeakable Felicity to a State, if the Sin of Uncleanness could be utterly Banish’d from it; but I am afraid it is impossible: The Passions of some People are too violent to be curb’d by any Law or Precept; and it is Wisdom in all Governments to bear with lesser Inconveniences to prevent greater. If Courtezans and Strumpets were to be prosecuted with as much Rigour as some silly People would have it, what Locks or Bars would be sufficient to preserve the Honour of our Wives and Daughters? For ’tis not only that the Women in general would meet with far greater Temptations, and the Attempts to ensnare the Innocence of Virgins would seem more excusable even to the sober part of Mankind than they do now: But some Men would grow outrageous, and Ravishing would become a common Crime. Where six or seven Thousand Sailors arrive at once, as it often happens at Amsterdam, that have seen none but their own Sex for many Months together, how is it to be suppos’d that honest Women should walk the Streets unmolested, if there were no Harlots to be had at reasonable Pricesa ? For which Reason the Wise Rulers of that well-order’d City always tolerate an uncertain number of Houses, in which Women are hired as publickly as Horses at a Livery-Stable; and there being in this Toleration a great deal of [96]Prudence and Oeconomy to be seen, a short Account of it will be no tiresome digression.

  In the first place the Houses I speak of are allowed to be no where but in the most slovenly and unpolish’d part of the Town, where Seamen and Strangers of no Repute chiefly Lodge and Resort. The Street in which most of them stand is counted scandalous, and the Infamy is extended to all the Neighbourhood round it. In the second, they are only Places to meet and bargain in, to make Appointments, in order to promote Interviews of greater Secrecy, and no manner of Lewdness is ever suffer’d to be transacted in them; which Order is so strictly observ’d, that bar the ill Manners and Noise of the Company that frequent them, you’ll meet with no more Indecency, and generally less Lasciviousness there, than with us are to be seen at a Playhouse. Thirdly, theb Female Traders that come to these Evening Exchanges are always the Scum of the People, and generally such as in the Day time carry Fruit and other Eatables about in Wheel-Barrows. The Habits indeed they appear in at Night are very different from their ordinary ones; yet they are commonly so ridiculously Gay, that they look more like the Roman Dresses of stroling Actresses1 than Gentlewomen’s Clothes: If to this you add the aukwardness, the hard Hands, and course breeding of the Damsels that wear them, there is no great Reason to fear, that many of [97]the better sort of People will be tempted by them.

  The Musick in these Temples of Venus is performed by Organs,2 not out of respect to the Deity that is worship’d in them, but the frugality of the Owners, whose Business it is to procure as much Sound for as little Money as they can, and the Policy of the Government, who endeavour a as little as is possible to encourage the Breed of Pipers and Scrapers. All Sea-faring Men, especially the Dutch, are like the Element they belong to, much given to loudness and roaring, and the Noise of half a dozen of them, when they call themselves Merry, is sufficient to drown twice the number of Flutes or Violins; whereas with one pair of Organs they can make the whole House ring, and are at no other Charge than the keeping of one scurvy Musician, which can cost them but little: yet notwithstanding the good Rules and strict Discipline that are observ’d in these Markets of Love, the Schout1 and his Officers are always vexing, mulcting, and upon the least Complaint removing the miserable Keepers of them: Which Policy is of two great uses; first it gives an opportunity to a large parcel of Officers, the Magistrates make use of on many Occasions, and which they could not be without, to squeeze a Living out of the immoderate Gains accruing from the worst of Employments, and at the same time punish those necessary Profli-[98]gates the Bawds and Panders, which, tho’ they abominate, they desire yet not wholly to destroy. Secondly, as on several accounts it might be dangerous to let the Multitude into the Secret, that those Houses and the Trade that is drove in them are conniv’d at, so by this means appearing unblameable, the wary Magistrates preserve themselves in the good Opinion of the weaker sort of People, who imagine that the Government is always endeavouring, tho’ unable, to suppress what it actually tolerates: Whereas if they had a mind to rout them out, their Power in the Administration of Justice is so sovereign and extensive, and they know so well how to have it executed, that one Week, nay one Night, might send them all a packing.

  In Italy the Toleration of Strumpets is yet more barefac’d, as is evident from their publick Stews. At Venice and Naples Impurity is a kind of Merchandize and Traffick; the Courtezans at Rome, and the Cantoneras in Spain, compose a Body in the State, and are under a Legal Tax and Impost. Tis well known, that the Reason why so many good Politicians as these tolerate Lewd Houses, is not their Irreligion, but to prevent a worse Evil, an Impurity of a more execrable kind, and to provide for the Safety of Women of Honour. About Two Hundred and Fifty Years ago, says Monsieur de St. Didier,2 Venice being in want of Courtezans, the Repub-[99]lick was obliged to procure a great number from Foreign Parts. Doglioni,1 who has written the memorable Affairs of Venice, highly extols the Wisdom of the Republick in this Point, which secured the Chastity of Women of Honour daily exposed to publick Violences, the Churches and Consecrated Places not being a sufficient Azylum for their Chastity.2

  Our Universities in England are much bely’d, if in some Colleges there was not a Monthly Allowance ad expurgandos Renes:3 and time was when the Monks and Priests in Germany were allow’d Concubines on paying a certain Yearly Duty to their Prelate. ’Tis generally believ’d, says Monsieur Bayle,1 (to whom I owe the last Paragraph) athat Avarice was the Cause of this shameful Indulgence; but it is more probable their design was to prevent their tempting modest Women, and to quiet the uneasiness of Husbands, whose Resentments the Clergy do well to avoid. From what has been said it is manifest, that there is a Necessity of sacrificing one part of Womankind to preserve the other, and prevent a Filthiness of a more heinous Nature. From whence I think I may justly conclude (what was the seeming Paradox I went about to prove) that Chastity may be supported by Incontinence, and the best of Virtues want the Assistance of the worst of Vices.

  [100](I.) The Root of Evil, Avarice, That damn’d ill-natur’d baneful Vice,Was Slave to Prodigality: Page 10. Line 9.

  I Have joined so many odious Epithets to the Word Avarice, in compliance to the Vogue of Mankind, who generally bestow more ill Language upon this than upon any other Vice, and indeed not undeservedly; for there is hardly a Mischief to be named which it has not produced at one time or other: But the true Reason why every Body exclaims so much against it, is, that almost every Body suffers by it; for the more the Money is hoarded up by some, the scarcer it must grow among the rest, and therefore when Men rail very much at Misers there is generally Self-Interest at Bottom.

  As there is no living without Money, so those that are unprovided, and have no Body to give them any, are oblig’d to do some Service or other to the Society, before they can come at it; but every Body esteeming his Labour as he does himself, which is generally not under the Value, most People that want Money only to spend it again presently, imagine they do more for it than it is worth. Men can’t [101]forbear looking upon the Necessaries of Life as their due, whether they work or not; because they find that Nature, without consulting whether they have Victuals or not, bids them eat whenever they are hungry; for which Reason every Body endeavours to get what he wants with as much Ease as he can; and therefore when Men find that the trouble they are put to in getting Money is either more or less, according as those they would have it from are more or less tenacious, it is very natural for them to be angry at Covetousness in general; for it obliges them either to go without what they have occasion for, or else to take greater Pains for it than they are willing.

  Avarice, notwithstanding it is the occasion of so many Evils, is yet very necessary to the Society, to glean and gather what has been dropt and scatter’d by the contrary Vice. Was it not for Avarice, Spendthrifts would soon want Materials; and if none would lay up and get faster than they spend, very few could spend faster than they get. That it is a Slave to Prodigality, as I have call’d it, is evident from so many Misers as we daily see toil and labour, pinch and starve themselves to enrich a lavish Heir. Tho’ these two Vices appear very opposite, yet they often assist each other. Florio is an extravagant young Blade, of a very profuse Temper; as he is the only Son of a very rich Father, he wants to live high, [102]keep Horses and Dogs, and throw his Money about, as he sees some of his Companions do; but the old Hunks will part with no Money, and hardly allows him Necessaries. Florio would have borrow’d Money upon his own Credit long ago; but as all would be lost, if he died before his Father, no prudent Man would lend him any. At last he has met with the greedy Cornaro, who lets him have Money at Thirty per Cent. and now Florio thinks himself happy, and spends a Thousand a Year. Where would Cornaro ever have got such a prodigious Interest, if it was not for such a Fool as Florio, who will give so great a price for Money to fling it away? And how would Florio get it to spend, if he had not lit of such a greedy Usurer as Cornaro, whose excessive Covetousness makes him overlook the great Risque he runs in venturing such great Sums upon the Life of a wild Debauchee.

  Avarice is no longer the Reverse of Profuseness, than while it signifies that sordid love of Money, and narrowness of Soul that hinders Misers from parting with what they have, and makes them covet it only to hoard up. But there is a sort of Avarice which consists in a greedy desire of Riches, in order to spend them, and this often meets with Prodigality in the same Persons, as is evident in most Courtiers and great Officers, both Civil and Military. In their Buildings and [103]Furniture, Equipages and Entertainments, their Gallantry is display’d with the greatest Profusion; while the base Actions they submit to for Lucre, and the many Frauds and Impositions they are guilty of discover the utmost Avarice. This mixture of contrary Vices comes up exactly to the Character of Catiline, of whom it is said, that he was appetens alieni & sui profusus,1 greedy after the Goods of others and lavish of his own.

  (K.) That noble Sin —— ——: Page 10. Line 12.

  THE Prodigality, I call a noble Sin, is not that which has Avarice for its Companion, and makes Men unreasonably profuse to some of what they unjustly extort from others, but that agreeable good-natur’d Vice that makes the Chimneya smoke, and all the Tradesmen smile; I mean the unmix’d Prodigality of heedless and voluptuous Men, that being educated in Plenty, abhor the vile Thoughts of Lucre, and lavish away only what others took pains to scrape together; such as indulge their Inclinations at their own Expence, that have the continual Satisfaction of bartering Old Gold for new Pleasures, and from the excessive largeness of a diffusive [104]Soul, are made guilty of despisingb too much what most People over-value.

  When I speak thus honourably of this Vice, and treat it with so much Tenderness and good Manners as I do, I have the same thing at Heart that made me give so many Ill Names to the Reverse of it, viz. the Interest of the Publick; for as the Avaricious does no good to himself, and is injurious to all the World besides, except his Heir, so the Prodigal is a Blessing to the whole Society, and injures no body but himself. It is true, that as most of the first are Knaves, so the latter are all Fools; yet they are delicious Morsels for the Publick to feast on, and may with as much Justice as the French call the Monks the Partridges of the Women, be styled the Woodcocks of the Society. Was it not for Prodigality, nothing could make us amends for the Rapine and Extortion of Avarice in Power. When a Covetous Statesman is gone, who spent his whole Life in fat’ning himself with the Spoils of the Nation, and had by pinching and plundering heap’d up an immense Treasure, it ought to fill every good Member of the Society with Joy, to behold the uncommon Profuseness of his Son. This is refunding to the Publick what was robb’d from it. Resuming of Grants is a barbarous way of stripping, and it is ignoble to ruin a Man faster than he does it himself, when he sets about it in such good earnest. Does he not feed an infinite [105]number of Dogs of all Sorts and Sizes, tho’ he never hunts; keepa more Horses than any Nobleman in the Kingdom, tho’ he never rides ’em, and give as large an Allowance to an ill-favour’d Whore as would keep a Dutchess, tho’ he never lies with her? Is he not still more extravagant in those things he makes use of? Therefore let him alone, or praise him, call him Publick-spirited Lord, nobly bountiful and magnificently generous, and in ab few Years he’ll suffer himself to be stript his own way. As long as the Nation has its own back again, we ought not to quarrel with the manner in which the Plunder is repay’d.

  Abundance of moderate Men I know that are Enemies to Extremes will tell me, that Frugality might happily supply the Place of the two Vices I speak of, that, if Men had not so many profuse ways of spending Wealth, they would not be tempted to so many evil Practices to scrape it together, and consequently that the same Number of Men by equally avoiding both Extremes, might render themselves more happy, and be less vicious without than they could with them. Whoever argues thusc shews himself a better Man than he is a Politician. Frugality is like Honesty, a mean starving Virtue, that is only fit for small Societies of good peaceable Men, who are contented to be poor so they may be easy; but in a large stirring Nation you may have soon enough of it. ’Tis an idle [106]dreaming Virtue that employs no Hands, and therefore very useless in a trading Country, where there are vast Numbers that one way or other must be all set to Work. Prodigality has a thousand Inventions to keep People from sitting still, that Frugality would never think of; and as this must consume a prodigious Wealth, so Avarice again knows innumerable Tricks to rake it together, which Frugality would scorn to make use of.

  Authors are always allow’d to compare small things to great ones, especially if they ask leave first. Si licet exemplis, &c. but to compare great things to mean trivial ones is unsufferable, unless it be in Burlesque; otherwise I would compare the Body Politick (I confess the Simile is very low)1 to a Bowl of Punch.² Avarice should be the Souring and Prodigality the Sweetning of it. The Water I would call the Ignorance, Folly and Credulity of the floating insipid Multitude; while Wisdom, Honour, Fortitude and the rest of the sublime Qualities of Men, which separated by Art from the Dregs of Nature the fire of Glory has exalted and refin’d into a Spiritual Essence, should be an Equivalent to Brandy. I don’t doubt but a Westphalian, Laplander, or any other dull Stranger that is unacquainted with the wholesom Composition, if he was to tastea the several Ingredients apart, would think it impossible they should make any tolerable Liquor. The Li-[107]mons would be too sour, the Sugar too luscious, the Brandy he’ll say is too strong ever to be drank in any Quantity, and the Water he’ll call a tasteless Liquor only fit for Cows and Horses: Yet Experience teaches us, that the Ingredients I named judiciously mixt,a will make an excellent Liquor, lik’d of and admir’d by Men of exquisite Palates.

  As to our twob Vices in particular, I could compare Avarice, that causes so much Mischief, and is complained of by every body who is not a Miser, to a griping Acid that sets our Teeth on Edge, and is unpleasant to every Palate that is not debauch’d: I could compare the gawdy Trimming and splendid Equipage of a profuse Beau, to the glistningc Brightness of the finest Loaf Sugar; for as the one by correcting the Sharpness preventsd the Injuries which a gnawing Sour might do to the Bowels, so the other is a pleasing Balsam that heals and makes amends for the smart, which the Multitude always suffers from the Gripes of the Avaricious; while the Substances of both melt away alike, and they consume themselves by being beneficial to the several Compositions they belong to. I could carry on the Simile as to Proportions, and the exact Nicety to be observed in them, which would make it appear how little any of the Ingredients could be spared in either of the Mixtures; but I will not tire my Reader by pursuing too far a ludicrous Comparison, when [108]I have other Matters to entertain him with of greater Importance; and to sum up what I have said in this and the foregoing Remark, shall only add, that I look upon Avarice and Prodigality in the Society as I do upon two contrary Poisons in Physick, of which it is certain that the noxious Qualities being by mutual Mischief corrected in both, they may assist each other, and often make a good Medicine between them.1

  (L.) —— —— —— While Luxury Employ’d a Million of the Poor,&c.1 : Page 10. Line 12.

  * IF every thing is to be Luxury (as in strictness it ought) that is not immediately necessary to make Man subsist as he is a living Creature, there is nothing else to be found in the World, no not even among the naked Savages; of which it is not probable that there are any but what by this time have made some Improvements upon their former manner of Living; and either in the Preparation of their Eatables, the ordering of their Huts, or otherwise, added something to what once sufficed them. This Definition every body will say is too rigorous; I am of the same Opinion; but if we are to abate [109]one Inch of this Severity, I am afraid we shan’t know where to stop. When People tell us they only desire to keep themselves sweet and clean, there is no understanding what they would be at; if they made use of these Words in their genuine proper literal Sense, they might soon be satisfy’d without much cost or trouble, if they did not want Water: But these two little Adjectives are so comprehensive, especially in the Dialect of some Ladies, that no body can guess how far they may be stretcht. The Comforts of Life are likewise so various and extensive, that no body can tell what People mean by them, except he knows what sort of Life they lead. The same obscurity I observe in the words Decency and Conveniency, and I never understand them unless I am acquainted with the Quality of the Persons that make use of them. People may go to Church together, and be all of one Mind as much as they please, I am apt to believe that when they pray for their daily Bread, the Bishop includes several things in that Petition which the Sexton does not think on.

  By what I have said hitherto I would only shew, that if once we depart from calling every thing Luxury that is not absolutely necessary to keep a Man alive, that then there is no Luxury at all; for if the wants of Men are innumerable, then what ought to supply them has no bounds; what is call’d superfluous to some degree of [110]People, will be thought requisite to those of higher Quality; and neither the World nor the Skill of Man can produce any thing so curious or extravagant, but some most Gracious Sovereign or other, if it either eases or diverts him, will reckon it among the Necessaries of Life; not meaning every Body’s Life, but that of his Sacred Person.

  It is a receiv’d Notion, that Luxury is as destructive to the Wealth of the whole Body Politic, as it is to that of every individual Person who is guilty of it, and that a National Frugality enriches a Country in the same manner as that which is less general increases the Estates of private Families.1 I confess, that tho’ I have found Men of much better Understanding than my self of this Opinion, I cannot help dissenting from them in this Point. They argue thus: We send, say they, for Example to Turkey of Woollen Manufactury, and other things of our own Growth, a Million’sa worth every Year; for this we bring back Silk, Mohair, Drugs, &c. to the value of Twelve Hundred Thousand Pounds, that are all spent in our own Country. By this, say they, we get nothing; but if most of us would be content with our own Growth, and so consume but half the quantity of those Foreign Commodities, then those in Turkey, who would still want the same quantity of our Manufactures, would be forc’d to pay ready Money for [111]the rest, and so by the Balance of that Trade only, the Nation should get Six Hundred Thousand Pounds per Annum.1

  To examine the force of this Argument, we’ll suppose (what they would have) that but half the Silk, &c. shall be consumed in England of what there is now; we’ll suppose likewise, that those in Turkey, tho’ we refuse to buy above half as much of their Commodities as we used to do, either can or will not be without the same quantity of our Manufactures they had before, and that they’ll pay the Balance in Money; that is to say, that they shall give us as much Gold or Silver, as the value of what they buy from us exceeds the value of what we buy from them. Tho’ what we suppose might perhaps be done for one Year, it is impossible it should last: Buying is Bartering, and no Nation can buy Goods of others that has none of her own to purchase them with. Spain and Portugal, that are yearly supply’d with new Gold and Silver from their Mines, may for ever buy for ready Money as long as their yearly increase of Gold or Silver continues, but then Money is their Growth and the Commodity of the Country. We know that we could not continue long to purchase the Goods of other Nations, if they would not take our Manufactures in Payment for them; and why should we judge otherwise of other Nations? If those in Turkey then had no more Money fall from [112]the Skies than we, let us see what would be the consequence of what we supposed. The Six Hundred Thousand Pounds in Silk, Mohair, &c. that are left upon their Hands the first Year, must make those Commodities fall considerably: Of this the Dutch and French will reap the Benefita as much as our selves; and if we continue to refuse taking their Commodities in Payment for our Manufactures, they can Trade no longer with us, but must content themselves with buying what they want of such Nations as are willing to take what we refuse, tho’ their Goods are much worse than ours, and thus our Commerce with Turkey must in few Years be infallibly lost.1

  But they’ll say, perhaps, that to prevent the ill consequence I have shew’d, we shallb take the Turkish Merchandizes as formerly, and only bec so frugal as to consume but half the quantity of them our selves, and send the rest Abroad to be sold to others. Let us see what this will do, and whether it will enrich the Nation by the balance of that Trade with Six Hundred Thousand Pounds. In the first Place, I’ll grant them that our People at Home making use of so much more of our own Manufactures, those who were employ’d in Silk, Mohair, &c. will get a living by the various Preparations of Woollen Goods. But in the second, I cannot allow that the Goods can be sold as formerly; for suppose the Half that is wore at Home to be sold at the same Rate [113]as before, certainly the other Half that is sent Abroad will want very much of it: For we must send those Goods to Markets already supply’d; and besides that there must be Freight, Insurance, Provision, and all other Charges deducted, and the Merchants in general must lose much more by this Half that is re-shipp’d, than they got by the Half that is consumed here. For tho’ the Woollen Manufactures are our own Product, yet they stand the Merchant that ships them off to Foreign Countries, in as much as they do the Shopkeeper here that retails them: so that if the Returns for what he sends Abroad repay him not what his Goods cost him here, with all other Charges, till he has the Money and a good Interest for it in Cash, the Merchant must run out, and the Upshot would be, that the Merchants in general finding they lost by the Turkish Commodities they senta Abroad, would ship no more of our Manufactures than what would pay for as much Silk, Mohair, &c.b as would be consumed here. Other Nations would soon find Ways to supply them with as much as we should send short, and some where or other to dispose of the Goods we should refuse: So that all we should get by this Frugality would be, that those in Turkey would take but half the Quantity of our Manufactures of what they do now, while we encourage and wear their [114]Merchandizes, without which they are not able to purchase ours.

  As I have had the Mortification for several Years to meet with Abundance of sensible People against this Opinion, and who always thought me wrong in this Calculation, so I had the Pleasure at last to see the Wisdom of the Nation fall into the same Sentiments, as is so manifest from an Act of Parliament made in the Year 1721,1 where the Legislature disobliges a powerful and valuable Company,1 and overlooks very weighty Inconveniences at Home, to promote the Interest of the Turkey Trade, and not only encourages the Consumption of Silk and Mohair, but forces the Subjects on Penalties to make use of them whether they will or not.a

  What is laid to the Charge of Luxury besides, is, that it increases Avarice and Rapine: And where they are reigning Vices, Offices of the greatest Trust are bought and sold; the Ministers that should serve the Publick, both great and small, corrupted, and the Countriesb every Moment in danger of being betray’d to the highest Bidders:c And lastly, that it effeminates and enervates the People, by which the Nations become an easy Prey to the first Invaders. These are indeed terrible Things; but what is put to the Account of Luxury belongs to Male-Administration, and is the Fault of bad Politicks. Every Government ought [115]to be thoroughly acquainted with, and stedfastly to pursue the Interest of the Country. Good Politicians by dextrous Management, laying heavy Impositions on some Goods, or totally prohibiting them, and lowering the Duties on others, may always turn and divert the Course of Trade which way they please; and as they’ll ever prefer, if it be equally considerable, the Commerce with such Countries as can pay with Money as well as Goods, to those that can make no Returns for what they buy, but in the Commodities of their own Growth and Manufactures,a so they will always carefully prevent the Traffick with such Nations as refuse the Goods of others, and will take nothing but Money for their own. But above all, they’ll keep a watchful Eye over the Balance of Trade in general, and never suffer that all the Foreign Commodities together, that are imported in one Year, shall exceed in Value what of their own Growth or Manufacture is in the same exported to others. Note, that I speak now of the Interest of those Nations that have no Gold or Silver of their own Growth, otherwise this Maxim need not to be so much insisted on.

  If what I urg’d last be but diligently look’d after, and the Imports are never allow’d to be superior to the Exports, no Nation can ever be impoverish’d by Foreign Luxury; and they may improve it as much as they please, if they [116]can but in proportion raise the Fund of their own that is to purchase it.b

  Trade is the Principal, but not the only Requisite to aggrandize a Nation: there are other Things to be taken care of besides. The Meum and Tuum1 must be secur’d, Crimes punish’d, and all other Laws concerning the Administration of Justice, wisely contriv’d, and strictly executed. Foreign Affairs must be likewise prudently manag’d, and the Ministry of every Nation ought to have a good Intelligence Abroad, and be well acquainted with the Publick Transactions of all those Countries, that either by their Neighbourhood, Strength or Interest, may be hurtful or beneficial to them, to take the necessary Measures accordingly, of crossing some and assisting others, as Policy and the Balance of Power direct. The Multitude must be aw’d, no Man’s Conscience forc’d, and the Clergy allow’d no greater Share in State Affairs than our Saviour has bequeathed them in his Testament. These are the Arts that lead to worldly Greatness: what Sovereign Power soever makes a good Use of them, that has any considerable Nation to govern, whether it be a Monarchy, a Commonwealth, or a Mixture of both, can never fail of making it flourish in spight of all the other Powers upon Earth, and no Luxury or other Vice is ever able to shake their Constitution.—But here I expect a full-mouth’d Cry against me; What! [117]has God never punish’d and destroy’d great Nations for their Sins? Yes, but not without Means, by infatuating their Governors, and suffering them to depart from either all or some of those general Maxims I have mentioned; and of all the famous States and Empires the World has had to boast of hitherto, none ever came to Ruin whose Destruction was not principally owing to the bad Politicks, Neglects, or Mismanagements of the Rulers.

  There is no doubt but more Health and Vigour is to be expected among a People, and their Offspring, from Temperance and Sobriety, than there is from Gluttony and Drunkenness; yet I confess, that as to Luxury’s effeminating and enervating a Nation, I have not such frightful Notions now as I have had formerly. When we hear or read of Things which we are altogether Strangers to, they commonly bring to our Imagination such Ideas of what we have seen, as (according to our Apprehension) must come the nearest to them: And I remember, that when I have read of the Luxury of Persia, Egypt, and other Countries where it has been a reigning Vice, and that were effeminated and enervated by it, it has sometimes put me in mind of the cramming and swilling of ordinary Tradesmen at a City Feast, and the Beastlinessa their over-gorging themselves is often attended with; at other Times it has made me think on the Distraction of dissolute Sailors, as I [118]had seen them in Company of half a dozen lewd Women roaring along with Fiddles before them; and was I to have been carried into any of their great Cities, I would have expected to have found one Third of the People sick a-bed with Surfeits; another laid up with the Gout, or crippled by a more ignominious Distemper; and the rest, that could go without leading, walk along the Streets in Petticoats.

  It is happy for us to have Fear for ab Keeper, as long as our Reason is not strong enough to govern our Appetites: And I believe that the great Dread I had more particularly against the Word, to enervate, and some consequent Thoughts on the Etymology of it, did me Abundance of Good when I was a Schoolboy: But since I have seen something of the World, the Consequences of Luxury to a Nation seem not so dreadful to me as they did. As long as Men have the same Appetites, the same Vices will remain. In all large Societies, some will love Whoring and others Drinking. The Lustful that can get no handsome clean Women, will content themselves with dirty Drabs; and those that cannot purchase true Hermitage or Pontack, will be glad of more ordinary French Claret. Those that can’t reach Wine, take up with worsec Liquors, and a Foot Soldier or a Beggar may make himself as drunk with Stale-Beer or Malt-Spirits, as a Lord with Burgundy, Champaignd or Tockay.e [119]The cheapest and most slovenly way of indulging our Pas-sions , does as much Mischief to a Man’s Constitution, as the most elegant and expensive.

  The greatest Excesses of Luxury are shewn ina Buildings, Furniture, Equipages and Clothes: Clean Linen weakens a Man no more than Flannel; Tapistry, fine Painting or good Wainscot are no more unwholesom than bare Walls; and a rich Couch, or a gilt Chariot are no more enervating than the cold Floor or a Country Cart. The refin’d Pleasures of Men of Sense are seldom injurious to their Constitution, and there are many great Epicures that will refuse to eat or drink more than their Heads or Stomachs can bear. Sensual People may take as great Care of themselves as any: and the Errors of the most viciously luxurious, don’t so much consist in the frequent Repetitions of their Lewdness, and their Eating and Drinking too much, (which are the Things which would most enervate them) as they do in the operose Contrivances, the Profuseness and Nicety they are serv’d with, and the vast Expence they are at in their Tables and Amours.

  But let us once suppose that the Ease and Pleasures the Grandees and the rich People of every great Nation live in, render them unfit to endure Hardships, and undergo the Toils of War. I’ll allow that most of the Common Council of the City would make but very in-[120]different Foot-Soldiers; and I believe heartily, that if your Horse was to be compos’d of Aldermen, and such as most of them are, a small Artillery of Squibs would be sufficient to rout them. But what have the Aldermen, the Common-Council, or indeed all People of any Substance to do with the War, but to pay Taxes? The Hardships and Fatigues of War that are personally suffer’d, fall upon them that bear the Brunt of every Thing, the meanest Indigent Part of the Nation, the working slaving People: For how excessive soever the Plenty and Luxury of a Nation may be, some Body must do the Work, Houses and Ships must be built, Merchandizes must be remov’d, and the Ground till’d. Such a Variety of Labours in every great Nation requirea a vast Multitude, in which there are always loose, idle, extravagant Fellows enough to spare for an Army; and those that are robust enough to Hedge and Ditch, Plow and Thrash, or else not too much enervated to be Smiths, Carpenters, Sawyers, Cloth-workers, Porters or Carmen, will always be strong and hardy enough in a Campaign or two to make good Soldiers, who, where good Orders are kept, have seldom so much Plenty and Superfluity come to their Share as to do them any hurt.

  The Mischief then to be fear’d from Luxury among the People of War, cannot extend it [121]self beyond the Officers. The greatest of them are either Men of a very high Birth and Princely Education, or else extraordinary Parts, and no less Experience; and whoever is made choice of by a wise Government to command an Army en chef, should have a consummate Knowledge in Martial Affairs, Intrepidityb to keep him calm in the midst of Danger, and many other Qualifications that must be the Work of Time and Application, on Men of a quick Penetration, a distinguish’d Genius and a World of Honour. Strong Sinews and supple Joints are trifling Advantages not regarded in Persons of their Reach and Grandeur, that can destroy Cities a-bed,c and ruin whole Countries while they are at Dinner. As they are most commonly Men of great Age, it would be ridiculous to expect a hale Constitution and Agility of Limbs from them: So their Heads be but Active and well furnished, ’tis no great Matter what the rest of their Bodies are. If they cannot bear the Fatigue of being on Horseback, they may ride in Coaches, or be carried in Litters. Mens Conduct and Sagacity are never the less for their being Cripples, and the best General the King of France has now, can hardly crawl along.1 Those that are immediately under the chief Commanders must be very nigh of the same Abilities, and are generally Men that have rais’d themselves to those Posts by their Merit. The other Officers are all of them [122]in their several Stations obliged to lay out so large a Share of their Pay in fine Clothes, Accoutrements, and other things by the Luxury of the Times call’d necessary, that they can spare but little Money for Debauches; for as they are advanced and their Salaries rais’d, so they are likewise forced to increase their Expences and their Equipages, which as well as every thing else, must still be proportionable to their Quality: By which means the greatest Part of them are in a manner hindred from those Excesses that might be destructive to Health; while their Luxury thus turn’d another way serves moreover to heighten their Pride and Vanity, the greatest Motives to make them behave themselves like what they would be thought to be. (See Remark (R.)a

  There is nothing refines Mankind more than Love and Honour. Those two Passions are equivalent to many Virtues, and therefore the greatest Schools of Breeding and good Manners are Courts and Armies; the first b to accomplish the Women, the other to polish the Men. What the generality of Officers among civiliz’d Nations affect is a perfect Knowledge of the World and the Rules of Honour; an Air of Frankness, and Humanity peculiar to Military Men of Experience, and such a mixture of Modesty and Undauntedness, as may bespeak them both Courteous and Valiant. Where good Sense is fashionable, and a genteel Behaviour is in esteem, [123]Gluttony and Drunkenness can be no reigning Vices. What Officers of Distinction chiefly aim at is not a Beastly, but a Splendid way of Living, and the Wishes of the most Luxurious in their several degrees of Quality, are to appear handsomely, and excel each other in Finery of Equipage, Politeness of Entertainments, and the Reputation of a judicious Fancy in every thing about them.

  But if there should be more dissolute Reprobates among Officers than there are among Men of other Professions, which is not true, yet the most debauch’d of them may be very serviceable, if they have but a great Share of Honour. It is this that covers and makes up for a multitude of Defects in them, and it is this that none (how abandon’d soever they are to Pleasure) dare pretend to be without. But as there is no Argument so convincing as Matter ofa Fact, let us look back on what so lately happen’d in our two last Wars with France.1 How many puny young Striplings have we had in our Armies, tenderly Educated, nice in their Dress, and curious in their Diet, that underwent all manner of Duties with Gallantry and Chearfulness?

  Those that have such dismal Apprehensions of Luxury’s enervating and effeminating People, might in Flanders and Spain have seen embroider’d Beaux with fine lac’d Shirts and powder’d Wigs stand as much Fire, and lead [124]up to the Mouth of a Cannon, with as little Concern as it was possible for the most stinking Slovens to have done in their own Hair, tho’ it had not been comb’d in a Month;b and met with abundance of wild Rakes, who had actually impair’d their Healths, and broke their Constitutions with Excesses of Wine and Women, that yet behav’d themselves with Conduct and Bravery against their Enemies. Robustness is the least Thing requir’d in an Officer, and if sometimes Strength is of use, a firm Resolution of Mind, which the Hopes of Preferment, Emulation, and the Love of Glory inspire them with, will at a Push supply the Place of bodily Force.

  Those that understand their Business, and have a sufficient Sense of Honour, as soon as they are used to Danger will always be capable Officers: And their Luxury, as long as they spend no Body’s Money but their own, will never be prejudicial to a Nation.

  By all which I think I have proved what I design’d in this Remark on Luxury. First, That in one Sense every Thing may be call’d so, and in another there is no such Thing. Secondly, That with a wise Administration all People may swim in as much Foreign Luxury as their Product can purchase, without being impoverish’d by it. And Lastly, That where Military Affairs are taken care of as they ought, and the Soldiers well paid and kept in good Dis-[125]cipline, a wealthy Nation may live in all the Ease and Plenty imaginable; and in many Parts of it, shew as much Pomp and Delicacy, as Human Wit can invent, and at the same Time be formidable to their Neighbours, and come up to the Character of the Bees in the Fable, of which I said, That

  • Flatter’d in Peace, and fear’d in Wars,
  • They were th’a Esteem of Foreigners,
  • And lavish of their Wealth and Lives,
  • The Balance of all other Hives.1

  (See what is fartherb said concerning Luxury in the Remarks (M.) and (Q).c

  (M.) And odious Pride a Million more: Page 10. Line 14.

  PRIDE is that Natural Faculty by which every Mortal that has any Understanding over-values, and imagines better Things of himself than any impartial Judge, thoroughly acquainted with all his Qualities and Circumstances, could allow him. We are possess’d of no other Quality so beneficial to Society, and so necessary to render it wealthy and flourishing as this, yet it is that which is most gene-[126]rally detested. What is very peculiar to this Faculty of ours, is, that those who are the fullest of it, are the least willing to connive at it in others; whereas the Heinousness of other Vices is the most extenuated by those who are guilty of ’em themselves. The Chaste Man hates Fornication, and Drunkenness is most abhorr’d by the Temperate; but none are so much offended at their Neighbour’s Pride, as the proudest of all; and if any one can pardon it, it is the most Humble: From which I think we may justly infer, that ita being odious to all the World, is a certain Sign that all the World is troubled with it.1 This all Men of Sense are ready to confess, and no body denies but that he has Pride in general. But, if you come to Particulars, you’ll meet with few that will own any Action you can name of theirs to have proceeded from that Principle. There are likewise many who will allow that among the sinful Nations of the Times, Pride and Luxury are the great Promoters of Trade, but they refuse to own the Necessity there is, that in a more virtuous Age, (such a one as should be free from Pride) Trade would in a great Measure decay.

  The Almighty, they say,a has endow’d us with the Dominion over all Things which the Earth and Sea produce or contain; there is nothing to be found in either, but what was made for the Use of Man; and his Skill and Industry [127]above other Animals were given him, that he might render both them and every Thing else within the Reach of his Senses, more serviceable to him. Upon this Consideration they think it impious to imagine, that Humility, Temperance, and other Virtues, should debar People from the Enjoyment of those Comforts of Life, which are not denied to the most wicked Nations; and so conclude, that without Pride or Luxury, the same Things might be eat, wore, and consumed; the same Number of Handicrafts and Artificers employ’d, and a Nation be every way as flourishing as where those Vices are the most predominant.

  As to wearing Apparel in particular, they’ll tell you, that Pride, which sticks much nearer to us than our Clothes, is only lodg’d in the Heart, and that Rags often conceal a greater Portion of it than the most pompous Attire; and that as it cannot be denied but that there have always been virtuous Princes, who with humble Hearts have wore their splendid Diadems, and sway’d their envied Scepters, void of Ambition,b for the Good of others; so it is very probable, that Silver and Gold Brocades, and the richest Embroideries may, without a Thought of Pride, be wore by many whose Quality and Fortune are suitable to them. May not (say they) a good Man of extraordinary Revenues, make every Year a greater Variety of Suits than [128]it is possible he should wear out, and yet have no other Ends than to set the Poor at Work, to encourage Trade, and by employing many, to promote the Welfare of his Country? And considering Food and Raiment to be Necessaries, and the two chief Articles to which all our worldly Cares are extended, why may not all Mankind set aside a considerable Part of theira Income for the one as well as the other, without the least Tincture of Pride? Nay, is not every Member of the Society in a manner obliged, according to his Ability, to contribute toward the Maintenance of that Branch of Trade on which the Whole has so great a Dependence? Besides that, to appear decently is a Civility, and often a Duty, which, without any Regard to our selves, we owe to those we converse with.

  These are the Objections generally made use of by haughty Moralists, who cannot endure to hear the Dignity of their Species arraign’d; but if we look narrowly into them they may soon be answered.

  If we had nob Vices, I cannot see why any Man should ever make more Suits than he has occasion for, tho’ he wasc never so desirous of promoting the Good of the Nation: For tho’ in the wearing of a well-wrought Silk, rather than a slight Stuff, and the preferring curious fine Cloth to coarse, he had no other View but the setting of more People to work, and consequent-[129]ly the Publick Welfare, yet he could consider Clothes no otherwise than Lovers of their Country do Taxes now; they may pay ’em with Alacrity, but no Body gives more than his due; especially where all are justly rated according to their Abilities, as it could no otherwise be expected in a very Virtuous Age. Besides that in such Golden Times no Body would dress above his Condition, no body pinch his Family, cheat or over-reach his Neighbour to purchase Finery, and consequently there would not be half the Consumption, nor a third Part of the People employ’d as now there are. But to make this more plain and demonstrate, that for the Support of Trade there can be nothing equivalent to Pride, I shall examine the several Views Men have in outward Apparel, and set forth what daily Experience may teach every body as to Dress.

  Clothes were originally made for two Ends, to hide our Nakedness, and to fence our Bodies against the Weather, and other outward Injuries: To these our boundless Pride has added a third, which is Ornament; for what else but an excess of stupid Vanity, could have prevail’d upon our Reason to fancy that Ornamental, which must continually put us in mind of our Wants and Misery, beyond all other Animals that are ready clothed by Nature herself? It is indeed to be admired how so sensible a Creature as Man, that pretends [130]to so many fine Qualities of his own, should condescend to value himself upon what is robb’d from so innocent and defenceless an Animal as a Sheep, or what he is beholdena for to the most insignificant thing upon Earth, a dying Worm; yet while he is Proud of such trifling Depredations, he has the folly to laugh at the Hottentots on the furthest Promontory of Africk, who adorn themselves with the Guts of their dead Enemies,1 without considering that they are the Ensigns of their Valour those Barbarians are fine with, the true Spolia opima, and that if their Pride be more Savage than ours, it is certainly less ridiculous, because they wear the Spoils of the more noble Animal.

  But whatever Reflexions may be made on this head, the World has long since decided the Matter; handsome Apparel is a main Point, fine Feathers make fine Birds, and People, where they are not known, are generally honour’d according to their Clothes and other Accoutrements they have about them; from the richness of them we judge of their Wealth, and by their ordering of them we guess at their Understanding . It is this which encourages every Body, who is conscious of his little Merit, if he is any ways able, to wear Clothes above his Rank, especially in large and populous Cities, where obscure Men may hourly meet with fifty Strangers to one Acquaintance, and consequently have the [131] Pleasure of being esteem’d by a vast Majority, not as what they are, but what they appear to be: which is a greater Temptation than most People want to be vain.

  Whoever takes delight in viewing the various Scenes of low Life, may on Easter, Whitsun,a and other great Holidays, meet with scores of People, especially Women, of almost the lowest Rank, that wear good and fashionable Clothes: If coming to talk with them, you treat them more courteously and with greater Respect than what they are conscious they deserve, they’ll commonly be ashamed of owning what they are; and often you may, if you are a little inquisitive, discover in them a most anxious Care to conceal the Business they follow, and the Places they live in. The Reason is plain; while they receive those Civilities that are not usually paid them, and which they think only due to their Betters, they have the Satisfaction to imagine, that they appear what they would be, which to weak Minds is a Pleasure almost as substantial as they could reap from the very Accomplishments of their Wishes: This Golden Dream they are unwilling to be disturbed in, and being sure that the meanness of their Condition, if it is known, must sink ’em very low in your Opinion, they hug themselves in their disguise, and take all imaginable Precaution not to forfeit by a useless discovery the Esteem which they flatter themselves [132]that their good Clothes have drawn from you.

  Tho’ every Body allows, that as to Apparel and manner of living, we ought to behave our selves suitable to our Conditions, and follow the Examples of the most sensible, and prudent among our Equals in Rank and Fortune: Yet how few, that are not either miserably Covetous, or else Proud of Singularity, have this Discretion to boast of? We all look above our selves, and, as fast as we can, strive to imitate those, that some way or other are superior to us.

  The poorest Labourer’s Wife in the Parish, who scorns to wear a strong wholesom Frize, as she might, will half starve her self and her Husband to purchase a second-hand Gown and Petticoat, that cannot do hera half the Service; because, forsooth, it is more genteel. The Weaver, the Shoemaker, the Tailor, the Barber, and every mean working Fellow, that can set up with little, has the Impudence with the first Money he gets, to Dress himself like a Tradesman of Substance: The ordinary Retailer in the clothing of his Wife, takes Pattern from his Neighbour, that deals in the same Commodity by Wholesale, and the Reason he gives for it is, that Twelve Years ago the other had not a bigger Shop than himself. The Druggist, Mercer, Draper, and other creditable Shopkeepers can find no difference between themselves and [133]Merchants, and therefore dress and live like them. The Merchant’s Lady, who cannot bear the Assurance of those Mechanicks, flies for refuge to the other End of the Town, and scorns to follow any Fashion but what she takes from thence.b This Haughtiness alarms the Court, the Women of Quality are frighten’d to see Merchants Wives and Daughters dress’d like themselves: this Impudence of the City, they cry, is intolerable; Mantua-makers are sent for, and the contrivance of Fashions becomes all their Study, that they may have always new Modes ready to take up, as soon as those saucy Cits shall begin to imitate those in being. The same Emulation is continued through the several degrees of Quality to an incredible Expence, till at last the Prince’s great Favourites and those of the first Rank of all, having nothing else left to outstrip some of their Inferiors, are forc’d to lay out vast Estates in pompous Equipages, magnificent Furniture, sumptuous Gardens and princely Palaces.

  To this Emulation and continual striving to out-do one another it is owing, that after so many various Shiftings and Changings of Modes, in trumping up new ones and renewing of old ones, there is still a plus ultra left for the ingenious; it is this, or at least the consequence of it, that sets the Poor to Work, adds Spurs to Industry, and encourages the skilful Artificer to search after further Improvements.1

  [134]It may be objected, that many People of good Fashion, who have been us’d to be well Dress’d, out of Custom wear rich Clothes with all the indifferency imaginable, and that the benefit to Trade accruing from them cannot be ascribed to Emulation or Pride. To this I answer, that it is impossible, that those who trouble their Heads so little with their Dress, could ever have wore those rich Clothes, if both the Stuffs and Fashions had not been first invented to gratify the Vanity of others, who took greater delight in fine Apparel, than they; Besides that every Body is not without Pride that appears to be so;a all the symptoms of that Vice are not easily discover’d; they are manifold, and vary according to the Age, Humour, Circumstances, and often Constitution, of the People.

  The cholerick City Captain seems impatient to come to Action, and expressing his Warlike Genius by the firmness of his Steps, makes his Pike, for want of Enemies, tremble at the Valour of his Arm: His Martial Finery, as he marches along, inspires him with an unusual Elevation of Mind, by which endeavouring to forget his Shop as well as himself, he looks up at the Balconies with the fierceness of a Saracen Conqueror: While the phlegmatick Alderman, now become venerable both for his Age and his Authority, contents himself with being thought a considerable Man; and knowing no easier [135]way to express his Vanity, looks big in his Coach, where being known by his paultry Livery, he receives, in sullen State, the Homage that is paid him by the meaner sort of People.

  The beardless Ensign counterfeits a Gravity above his Years, and with ridiculousa Assurance strives to imitate the stern Countenance of his Colonel, flattering himself all the while that by his daring Mien you’ll judge of his Prowess. The youthful Fair, in a vast concern of being overlook’d, by the continual changing of her Posture betrays a violent desire of being observ’d, and catching, as it were, at every Body’s Eyes courts with obliging Looks the admiration of her Beholders. The conceited Coxcomb, on the contrary, displaying an Air of Sufficiency, is wholly taken up with the Contemplation of his own Perfections, and in Publick Places discovers such a disregard to others, that the Ignorant must imagine, he thinks himself to be alone.

  These and such like are all manifest tho’ different Tokens of Pride, that are obvious to all the World; but Man’s Vanity is not always so soon found out. When we perceive an Air of Humanity, and Men seem not to be employed in admiring themselves, norb altogether unmindful of others, we are apt to pronounce ’em void of Pride, when perhaps they are only fatigu’d with gratifying their Vanity, and become languid from a satiety of Enjoyments. That out-[136] ward show of Peace within, and drowsy composure of careless Negligence, with which a Great Man is often seen in his plain Chariot to loll at ease, are not always so free from Art, as they may seem to be. Nothing is more ravishing to the Proud than to be thought happy.1

  The well-bred Gentleman places his greatest Pride in the Skill he has of covering it with Dexterity, and some are so expert in concealing this Frailty, that when they are the most guilty of it, the Vulgar think them the most exempt from it. Thus the dissembling Courtier, when he appears in State, assumes an Air of Modesty and good Humour; and while he is ready to burst with Vanity, seems to be wholly Ignorant of his Greatness; well knowing, that those lovely Qualities must heighten him in the Esteem of others, and be an addition to that Grandeur, which the Coronets about his Coach and Harnesses, with the rest of his Equipage, cannot fail to proclaim without his Assistance.

  And as in these, Pride is overlook’d, because industriously conceal’d, so in others again it is denied that they have any, when they shew (or at least seem to shew) it in the most Publick manner. The wealthy Parson being, as well as the rest of his Profession, debarr’d from the Gaiety of Laymen, makes it his Business to look out for an admirable Black and the finest Cloth that Money can purchase, and distinguishes himself by the fulness of his noble and spotless [137]Garment; his Wigs are as fashionable as that Form he is forced to comply with will admit of; but as he is only stinted in their Shape, so he takes care that for goodness of Hair, and Colour, few Noblemen shall be able to match ’em; his Body is ever clean, as well as his Clothes, his sleek Face is kept constantly shav’d, and his handsome Nails are diligently pared; his smooth white Hand and a Brilliant of the first Water, mutually becoming, honour each other with double Graces; what Linen he discovers is transparently curious, and he scorns ever to be seen abroad with a worse Beaver than what a rich Banker would be proud of on his Wedding-Day; to all these Niceties in Dress he adds a Majestick Gate, and expresses a commanding Loftiness in his Carriage; yet common Civility, notwithstanding the evidence of so many concurring Symptoms, won’t allow us to suspect any of his Actions to be the Result of Pride; considering the Dignity of his Office, it is only Decency in him what would be Vanity in others; and in good Manners to his Calling we ought to believe, that the worthy Gentleman, without any regard to his reverend Person, puts himself to all this Trouble and Expence merely out of a Respect which is due to the Divine Order he belongs to, and a Religious Zeal to preserve his Holy Function from the Contempt of Scoffers. With all my Heart; nothing of all this shall be call’d Pride, let me [138]only be allow’d to say, that to our Human Capacities it looks very like it.

  But if at last I should grant, that there are Men who enjoy all the Fineries of Equipage and Furniture as well as Clothes, and yet have no Pride in them; it is certain, that if all should be such, that Emulation I spoke of before must cease, and consequently Trade, which has so great a Dependence upon it, suffer in every Branch. For to say, that if all Men were truly Virtuous, they might, without any regard to themselves, consume as much out of Zeal to serve their Neighbours and promote the Publick Good, as they do now out of Self-Love and Emulation, is a miserable Shift and an unreasonable Supposition. As there have been good People in all Ages, so, without doubt, we are not destitute of them in this; but let us enquire of the Periwig-makers and Tailors, in what Gentle-men , even of the greatest Wealth and highest Quality, they ever could discover such publick-spirited Views. Ask the Lacemen, the Mercers, and the Linen-Drapers, whether the richest, and if you will, the most virtuous Ladies, if they buy with ready Money, or intend to pay in any reasonable Time, will not drive from Shop to Shop, to try the Market, make as many Words, and stand as hard with them to save a Groat or Six-pence in a Yard, as the most necessitous Jilts in Town. If it be urg’d, that if there are not, it is possible there might be such People; [139]I answer that it is as possible that Cats, instead of killing Rats and Mice, should feed them, and go about the House to suckle and nurse their young ones; or that a Kite should call the Hens to their Meat, as the Cock does, and sit brooding over their Chickens instead of devouring ’em; but if they should all do so, they would cease to be Cats and Kites; it is inconsistent with their Natures, and the Species of Creatures which now we mean, when we name Cats and Kites, would be extinct as soon as that could come to pass.

  (N.)a Envy it self, and Vanity, Were Ministers of Industry: Page 10. Line 15.

  ENVY is that Baseness in our Nature, which makes us grieve and pine at what we conceive to be a Happiness in others. I don’t believe there is a Human Creature in his Senses arriv’d to Maturity, that at one time or other has not been carried away by this Passion in good Earnest; and yet I never met with any one that dared own he was guilty of it, but in Jest.1 That we are so generally ashamed of this Vice, is owing to[140] that strong Habit of Hypocrisy, by the Help of which, we have learned from our Cradle to hide even from our selves the vast Extent of Self-Love, and all its different Branches. It is impossible Man should wish better for another than he does for himself, unless where he supposes an Impossibility that himself should attain to those Wishes; and from hence we may easily learn after whata manner this Passion is raised in us. In order to it, we are to consider First, That as well as we think of our selves, so ill we often think of our Neighbour with equal Injustice; and when we apprehend, that others do or will enjoy what we think they don’t deserve, it afflicts and makes us angry with the Cause of that Disturbance. Secondly, That we are ever employ’d in wishing well for our selves, every one according to his Judgment and Inclinations, and when we observe something we like, and yet are destitute of, in the Possession of others; it occasions first Sorrow in us for not having the Thing we like. This Sorrow is incurable, while we continue our Esteem for the Thing we want: But as Self-Defence is restless, and never suffers us to leave any Means untried how to remove Evil from us, as far and as well as we are able; Experience teaches us, that nothing in Nature more alleviates this Sorrow than our Anger against those who are possess’d of what we esteem and want. This latter Passion therefore, we [141]cherish and cultivate to save or relieve our selves, at least in part, from the Uneasiness we felt from the first.

  Envy then is a Compound of Grief and Anger; the Degrees of this Passion depend chiefly on the Nearness or Remoteness of the Objects as to Circumstances. If one, who is forced to walk on Foot envies a great Man for keeping a Coach and Six, it will never be with that Violence, or give him that Disturbance which it may to a Man, who keeps a Coach himself, but can only afford to drive with four Horses. The Symptoms of Envy are as various, and as hard to describe, as those of the Plague; at some time it appears in one Shape, at others in another quite different. Among the Fair the Disease is very common, and the Signs of it very conspicuous in their Opinions and Censures of one another. In beautiful young Women you may often discover this Faculty to a high Degree; they frequently will hate one another mortally at first Sight, from no other Principle than Envy; and you may read this Scorn, and unreasonable Aversion in their very Countenances, if they have not a great deal of Art, and well learn’d to dissemble.

  In the rude and unpolish’d Multitude this Passion is very bare-faced; especially when they envy others for the Goods of Fortune: They rail at their Betters, rip up their Faults, [142]and take Pains to misconstrue theira most commendable Actions: They murmur at Providence, and loudly complain, that the good Things of this World are chiefly enjoy’d by those who do not deserve them. The grosser Sort of them it often affects so violently, that if they were not withheld by the Fear of the Laws, they would go directly and beat those their Envy is levell’d at, from no other Provocation than what that Passion suggests to them.

  The Men of Letters labouring under this Distemper discover quite different Symptoms. When they envy a Person for his Parts and Erudition, their chief Care is industriously to conceal their Frailty, which generally is attempted by denying and depreciating the good Qualities they envy: They carefully peruse his Works, and are displeas’d withb every fine Passage they meet with; they look for nothing but his Errors, and wish for no greater Feast than a gross Mistake: In their Censures they are captious as well as severe, make Mountains of Mole-hills, and will not pardon the least Shadow of a Fault, but exaggerate the most trifling Omission into a Capital Blunder.

  Envy is visible in Brute-Beasts; Horses shew it in their Endeavours of out-stripping one another; and the best spirited will run themselves to Death before they’ll suffer another before them. In Dogs this Passion is likewise plainly to be seen, those who are used to be caress’d [143]will never tamely bear that Felicity in others. I have seen a Lap-Dog that would choke himself with Victuals rather than leave any thing for a Competitor of his own Kind; and we may often observe the same Behaviour in those Creatures which we daily see in Infants that are froward, and by being over-fondled made humoursome. If out of Caprice they at any time refuse to eat what they have ask’d for, and we can but make them believe that some body else, nay, even the Cat or the Dog is going to take it from them, they will make an end of their Oughts with Pleasure, and feed even against their Appetite.

  If Envy was not rivetted in Human Nature, it would not be so common in Children, and Youth would not be so generally spurr’d on by Emulation. Those who would derive every Thing that is beneficial to the Society from a good Principle, ascribe the Effects of Emulation in School-boys to a Virtue of the Mind; as it requires Labour and Pains, so it is evident, that they commit a Self-Denial, who act from that Disposition; but if we look narrowly into it, we shall find that this Sacrifice of Ease and Pleasure is only made to Envy, and the Love of Glory. If there was not something very like this Passion mix’d with that pretended Virtue, it would be impossible to raise and increase it by the same Means that create Envy. The Boy, who receives a Reward for [144]the Superiority of his Performance, is conscious of the Vexation it would have been to him, if he should have fall’n short of it: This Reflexion makes him exert himself, not to be out-done by those whom now he looks upon as his Inferiors, and the greater his Pride is, the more Self-denial he’ll practise to maintain his Conquest. The other, who, in spite of the Pains he took to do well, has miss’d of the Prize, is sorry, and consequently angry with him whom he must look upon as the Cause of his Grief: But to shew this Anger, would be ridiculous, and of no Service to him, so that he must either be contented to be less esteem’d than the other Boy; or by renewing his Endeavours become a greater Proficient: and it is ten to one, but the disinterested, good-humour’d, and peaceable Lad will choose the first, and so become indolent and unactive, while the covetous, peevish, and quarrelsome Rascal shall take incredible Pains, and make himself a Conqueror in his Turn.

  Envy, as it is very common among Painters, so it is of great Use for their Improvement: I don’t mean, that little Dawbers envy great Masters, but most of them are tainted with this Vice against those immediately above them. If the Pupil of a famous Artist is of a bright Genius, and uncommon Application, he first adores his Master; but as his own Skill increases, he begins insensibly to envy what he [145]admired before. To learn the Nature of this Passion, and that it consists in what I have named, we are but to observe that, if a Painter by exerting himself comes not only to equal, but toa exceed the Man he envied, his Sorrow is gone and all his Anger disarmed; and if he hated him before, he is now glad to be Friends with him, if the other will condescend to it.

  Married Women, who are Guilty of this Vice, which few are not, are always endeavouring to raise the same Passion in their Spouses; and where they have prevail’d, Envy and Emulation have kept more Men in Bounds, and reform’d more Ill Husbands from Sloth, from Drinking and other evil Courses, than all the Sermons that have been preach’d since the time of the Apostles.

  As every Body would be happy, enjoy Pleasure and avoid Pain if he could, so Self-love bids us look on every Creature that seems satisfied, as a Rival in Happiness; and the Satisfaction we have in seeing that Felicity disturb’d, without any Advantage to our selves but what springs from the Pleasure we have in beholding it, is call’d loving Mischief for Mischief’s sake; and the Motive of which that Frailty is the Result, Malice, another Offspring derived from the same Original; for if there was no Envy there could be no Malice. When the Passions lie dormant we have no Apprehension of them, and often People think they have [146]not such a Frailty in their Nature, because that Moment they are not affected with it.

  A Gentleman well dress’d, who happens to be dirty’d all over by a Coach or a Cart, is laugh’d at, and by his Inferiors much more than his Equals, because they envy him more: they know he is vex’d at it, and imagining him to be happier than themselves, they are glad to see him meet with Displeasures in his turn: But a young Lady, if she be in a serious Mood, instead of laughing at, pities him, because a clean Man is a Sight she takes delight in, and there is no room for Envy. At Disasters, we either laugh, or pity those that befal them, according to the Stock we are possess’d of either of Malice or Compassion. If a Man falls or hurts himself so slightly that it moves not the lattera , we laugh, and here our Pity and Malice shake us alternately: Indeed, Sir, I am very sorry for it, I beg your Pardon for laughing, I am the silliest Creature in the World, then laugh again;b and again,c I am indeed very sorry, and so on. Some are so Malicious they would laugh if a Man broke his Leg, and others are so Compassionate that they can heartily pity a Man for the least Spot in his Clothes; but no Body is so Savage that no Compassion can touch him, nor any Man so good-natur’d as never to be affected with any Malicious Pleasure. How strangely our Passions govern us! We envy a Man for being Rich, and then perfectly hate [147]him: But if we come to be his Equals, we are calm, and the least Condescension in him makes us Friends; but if we become visibly Superior to him we can pity his Misfortunes. The Reason why Men of true good Sense envy less than others, is because they admire themselves with less Hesitation than Fools and silly People; for tho’ they do not shew this to others, yet the Solidity of their thinking gives them an Assurance of their real Worth, which Men of weak Understanding can never feel within, tho’ they often counterfeit it.

  The Ostracism of the Greeks was a Sacrifice of valuable Men made to Epidemick Envy, and often applied as an infallible Remedy to cure and prevent the Mischiefs of Popular Spleen and Rancour. A Victim of State often appeases the Murmurs of a whole Nation, and After-ages frequently wonder at Barbarities of this Nature, which under the same Circumstances they would have committed themselves. They are Compliments to the Peoples Malice, which is never better gratify’d, than when they can see a great Man humbled. We believe that we love Justice, and to see Merit rewarded; but if Men continue long in the first Posts of Honour, half of us grow weary of them, look for their Faults, and if we can find none, we suppose they hide them, and ’tis much if the greatest part of us don’t wish them discarded. This foul Play the best of Men ought ever to ap-[148]prehend from all who are not their immediate Friends or Acquaintance, because nothing is more tiresome to us than the Repetition of Praises we have no manner of Share in.

  The more a Passion is a Compound of many others, the more difficult it is to define it; and the more it is tormenting to those that labour under it, the greater Cruelty it is capable of inspiring them with against others: Therefore nothing is more whimsical or mischievous than Jealousy, which is made up of Love, Hope, Fear, and a great deal of Envy: The last has been sufficiently treated of already, and what I have to say of Fear, the Reader will find under Remark (R.) So that the better to explain and illustrate this odd Mixture, the Ingredients I shall further speak of in this Place are Hope and Love.

  Hoping is wishing with some degree of Confidence, that the Thing wish’d for will come to pass.1 The Firmness and Imbecillity of our Hope depend entirely on the greater or lesser Degree of our Confidence, and all Hope includes Doubt; for when our Confidence is arriv’d to that Height, as to exclude all Doubts, it becomes a Certainty, and we take for granted what we only hop’d for before. A silver Inkhorn may pass in Speech, because every Body knows what we mean by it, but a certain Hope cannot: For a Man who makes use of an Epithet that destroys the Essence of the Substantive he joins it to, can have no Meaning [149]at all; and the more clearly we understand the Force of the Epithet, and the Nature of the Substantive, the more palpable is the Nonsense of the heterogeneous Compound. The Reason, therefore, why it is not so shocking to some to hear a Man speak of certain Hope, as if he should talk of hot Ice, or liquid Oak, is not because there is less Nonsense contain’d in the first than there is in either of the latter; but because the Word Hope, I mean the Essence of it, is not so clearly understood by the Generality of the People, as the Words and Essences of Ice and Oak are.2

  Love in the first Place signifies Affection, such as Parents and Nurses bear to Children, and Friends to one another; it consists in a Liking and Well-wishing to the Person beloved. We give an easy Construction to his Words and Actions, and feel a Proneness to excuse and forgive his Faults, if we see any; his Interest we make on all Accounts our own, even to our Prejudice, and receive an inward Satisfaction for sympathizing with him in his Sorrows, as well as Joys. What I said last is not impossible, whatever it may seem to be; for when we are sincere in sharing with another in his Misfortunes, Self-Love makes us believe, that the Sufferings we feel must alleviate and lessen those of our Friend, and while this fond Reflexion is soothing our Pain, a secret Pleasure arises from our grieving for the Person we love.1

  [150]Secondly, by Love we understand a strong Inclination, in its Nature distinct from all other Affections of Friendship, Gratitude, and Consanguinity, that Persons of different Sexes, after liking, bear to one another: It is in this Signification that Love enters into the Compound of Jealousy, and is the Effect as well as happy Disguise of that Passion that prompts us to labour for the Preservation of our Species. This latter Appetite is innate both in Men and Women, who are not defective in their Formation, as much as Hunger or Thirst, tho’ they are seldom affected with it before the Years of Puberty. Could we undress Nature, and pry into her deepest Recesses, we should discover the Seeds of this Passion before it exerts itself , as plainly as we see the Teeth in an Embryo, before the Gums are form’d. There are few healthy People of either Sex, whom it has made no Impression upon before Twenty: Yet, as the Peace and Happiness of the Civil Society require that this should be kept a Secret, never to be talk’d of in Publick; so among well-bred People it is counted highly Criminal to mention before Company any thing in plain Words, that is relating to this Mystery of Succession: By which Means the very Name of the Appetite, tho’ the most necessary for the Continuance of Mankind, is become odious, and the proper Epithets commonly join’d to Lust are Filthy and Abominable.

  [151]This Impulse of Nature in People of strict Morals, and rigid Modesty, often disturbs the Body for a considerable Time before it is understood or known to be what it is, and it is remarkable that the most polish’d and best instructed are generally the most ignorant as to this Affair; and here I can but observe the Difference between Man in the wild State of Nature, and the same Creature in the Civil Society. In the first, Men and Women, if left rude and untaught in the Sciences of Modes and Manners, would quickly find out the Cause of that Disturbance, and be at a Loss no more than other Animals for a present Remedy: Besides, that it is not probable they would want either Precept or Example from the more experienc’d. But in the second, where the Rules of Religion, Law and Decency, are to be follow’d, and obey’d before any Dictates of Nature, the Youth of both Sexes are to be arm’d and fortify’d against this Impulse, and from their Infancy artfully frighten’d from the most remote Approaches of it. The Appetite it self, and all the Symptoms of it, tho’ they are plainly felt and understood, are to be stifled with Care and Severity, and in Women flatly disown’d, and if there be Occasion, with Obstinacy deny’d, even when themselves are visibly affected by them. If it throws them into Distempers, they must be cured by Physick, or else patiently bear them in Silence; and it is the [152]Interest of the Society to preserve Decency and Politeness; that Women should linger, waste, and die, rather than relieve themselves in an unlawful manner; and among the fashionable Part of Mankind, the People of Birth and Fortune, it is expected that Matrimony should never be enter’d upon without a curious Regard to Family, Estate, and Reputation, and in the making of Matches the Call of Nature be the very last Consideration.

  Those then who would make Love and Lust Synonimous confound the Effect with the Cause of it: Yet such is the force of Education, and a Habit of thinking as we are taught, that sometimes Persons of either Sex are actually in Love without feeling any Carnal Desires, or penetrating into the Intentions of Nature, the end proposed by her without which they could never have been affected with that sort of Passion. That there are such is certain, but many more whose Pretences to those refin’d Notions are only upheld by Art and Dissimulation. Those, who are really such Platonick Lovers are commonly the pale-faced weakly People of cold and phlegmatick Constitutions in either Sex; the hale and robust of bilious Temperament and a sanguine Complexion1 never entertain any Love so Spiritual as to exclude all Thoughts and Wishes that relate to the Body.a But if the most Seraphick Lovers would know the Original of their Inclination, let them but [153]suppose that another should have the Corporal Enjoyment of the Person beloved, and by the Tortures they’ll suffer from that Refiexion they will soon discover the Nature of their Passions: Whereas on the contrary, Parents and Friends receive a Satisfaction in reflecting on the Joys and Comforts of a happy Marriage, to be tasted by those they wish well to.

  The curious, that are skill’d in anatomizing the invisible Part of Man, will observe that the more sublime and exempt this Love is from all Thoughts of Sensuality, the more spurious it is, and the more it degenerates from its honest Original and primitive Simplicity. The Power and Sagacity as well as Labour and Care of the Politician in civilizing the Society, has been no where more conspicuous, than in the happy Contrivance of playing our Passions against one another. By flattering our Pride and still increasing the good Opinion we have of ourselves on the one hand, and inspiring us on the other with a superlative Dread and mortal Aversion against Shame, the Artful Moralists have taught us chearfully to encounter our selves, and if not subdue, at least so to conceal and disguise our darling Passion, Lust, that we scarce know it when we meet with it in our own Breasts; Oh! the mighty Prize we have in view for all our Self-denial! can any Man be so serious as to abstain from Laughter, when he considers that for so much deceit and insin-[154]cerity practis’d upon our selves as well as others, we have no other Recompense than the vain Satisfaction of making our Species appear more exalted and remote from that of other Animals, than it really is; and we in our Consciences know it to be? yet this is fact, and in it we plainly perceive the reason why it was necessary to render odious every Word or Action by which we might discover the innate Desire we feel to perpetuate our Kind; and why tamely to submit to the violence of a Furious Appetite (which it isa painful to resist) and innocently to obey the most pressing demand of Nature without Guile or Hypocrisy, like other Creatures , should be branded with the Ignominious Name of Brutality.

  What we call Love then is not a Genuine, but an Adulterated Appetite, or rather a Compound, a heap of several contradictory Passions blended in one. As it is a product of Nature warp’d by Custom and Education, so the true Origin and first Motive of it, as I have hinted already, is stifled in well-bred People, and almost concealed from themselves: all which is the reason that as those affected with it vary in Age, Strength, Resolution, Temper, Circumstances, and Manners, the effects of it are so different, whimsical, surprizing and unaccountable.

  It is this Passion that makes Jealousy so troublesome, and the Envy of it often so fatal: [155]those who imagine that there may be Jealousy without Love, do not understand that Passion. Men may not have the least Affection for their Wives, and yet be angry with them for their Conduct, and suspicious of them either with or without a Cause: But what in such Cases affects them is their Pride, the Concern for their Reputation. They feel a Hatred against them without Remorse; when they are outrageous, they can beat them and go to sleep contentedly: such Husbands may watch their Dames themselves, and have thema observed by others; but their Vigilance is not so intense; they are not so inquisitive or industrious in their Searches, neither do they feel that Anxiety of Heart at the Fear of a Discovery, as when Love is mix’d with the Passions.

  What confirms me in this Opinion is, that we never observe this Behaviour between a Man and his Mistress; for when his Love is gone and he suspects her to be false, he leaves her, and troubles his Head no more about her: Whereas it is the greatest Difficulty imaginable, even to a Man of Sense, to part with a Mistress as long as he loves her, what ever Faults she may be guilty of. If in his Anger he strikes her he is uneasy after it; his Love makes him reflect on the Hurt he has done her, and he wants to be reconcil’d to her again. He may talk of hating her, and many times from his Heart wish her hang’d, but if [156]he cannot get entirely rid of his Frailty, he can never disintangle himself from her: tho’ she is represented in the most monstrous Guilt to his Imagination, and he has resolved and swore a thousand Times never to come near her again, there is no trusting him;a even when he is fully convinc’d of her Infidelity, if his Love continues, his Despair is never so lasting, but between the blackest Fits of it he relents, and finds lucid Intervals of Hope; he forms Excuses for her, thinks of pardoning, and in order to it racks his Invention for Possibilities that may make her appear less criminal.

  (O.)b Real Pleasures, Comforts, Ease: Page 11. Line 12.

  THAT the highest Good consisted in Pleasure, was the Doctrine of Epicurus, who yet led a Life exemplary for Continence, Sobriety, and other Virtues, which made People of the succeeding Ages quarrel about the Signification of Pleasure. Those who argued from the Temperance of the Philosopher, said, That the Delight Epicurus meant, was being virtuous; so Erasmus in his Colloquies tells us, That there are no greater Epicures than pious Christians.1 Others that reflected on the dissolute Manners of the greatest Part of his Followers, would have it, that by Pleasures he could have understood nothing but sensual Ones, and the Gratification of our Passions. I shall not decide their Quarrel, but am of Opinion, that whether Men be good or bad, what they take delight in is their Pleasure, and not to look out for any further Etymology from the learned Languages, I believe an Englishman may justly call every Thing a Pleasure that pleases him,1 and according to this Definition we ought to dispute no more about Mens Pleasures than their Tastes: Trahit sua quemque Voluptas.2

  The worldly-minded, voluptuous and ambitious Man, notwithstanding he is void of Merit, covets Precedence every where, and desires to be dignify’d above his Betters: He aims at spacious Palaces, and delicious Gardens; his chief Delight is in excelling others in stately Horses, magnificent Coaches, a numerous Attendance, and dear-bought Furniture. To gratify his Lust, he wishes for genteel, young, beautiful Women of different Charms and Complexionsa that shall adore his Greatness, and be really in love with his Person: His Cellars he would have stored with the Flower of every Country that produces excellent Wines: His Tableb he desires may be serv’d with many Courses, and each of them contain a choice Variety of Dainties not easily [158]purchas’d, and ample Evidences of elaborate and judicious Cookery; while harmonious Musick and well-couch’d Flattery entertain his Hearing by Turns. He employs, even in the meanest trifles, none but the ablest and most ingenious Workmen, that his Judgment and Fancy may as evidently appear in the least Things that belong to him, as his Wealth and Quality are manifested in those of greater Value. He desires to have several sets of witty, facetious, and polite People to converse with, and among them he would have some famous for Learning and universal Knowledge: For his serious Affairs, he wishes to find Men of Parts and Experience, that should be diligent and faithful. Those that are to wait on him he would have handy, mannerly and discreet, of comely Aspect, and a graceful Mien: What he requires in them besides, is a respectful Care of every Thing that is His, Nimbleness without Hurry, Dispatch without Noise, and an unlimited Obedience to his Orders: Nothing he thinks more troublesome than speaking to Servants; wherefore he will only be attended by such, as by observing his Looks have learn’d to interpret his Will from his slightest Motions. He loves to see an elegant Nicety in every thing that approaches him, and in what is to be employ’d about his Person he desires a superlative Cleanliness to be irreligiouslya observ’d. The chief Officers of hisb Houshold he would have to [159]be Men of Birth,c Honour and Distinction, as well as Order, Contrivance and Oeconomy; for tho’ he loves to be honour’d by every Body, and receives the Respects of the common People with Joy, yet the Homage that is paid him by Persons of Quality is ravishing to him in a more transcendent manner.

  While thus wallowing in a Sea of Lust and Vanity, he is wholly employ’d in provoking and indulging his Appetites, he desires the World should think him altogether free from Pride and Sensuality, and put a favourable Construction upon his most glaring Vices: Nay, if his Authority can purchase it, he covets to be thought Wise, Brave, Generous, Good-natur’d, and endu’d with all the Virtues he thinks worth having. He would have us believe that the Pomp and Luxury he is serv’d with are as many tiresome Plagues to him; and all the Grandeur he appears in is an ungrateful Burden, which, to his Sorrow, is inseparable from the high Sphere he moves in; that his noble Mind, so much exalted above vulgar Capacities, aims at higher ends, and cannot relish such worthless Enjoyments; that the highest of his Ambition is to promote the publick Welfare, and his greatest Pleasure to see his Country flourish, and every Body in it made happy. These are call’d real Pleasures by the Vicious and Earthly-minded, and whoever is able, either by his Skill or Fortune, after this refin’d [160]manner at once to enjoy the World, and the good Opinion of it, is counted extremely happy by all the most fashionable part of the People.

  But on the other side, most of the ancient Philosophers and grave Moralists, especially the Stoicks, would not allow any Thing to be a real Good that was liable to be taken from them by others. They wisely consider’d the Instability of Fortune, and the Favour of Princes; the Vanity of Honour, and popular Applause; the Precariousness of Riches, and all earthly Possessions; and therefore placed true Happiness in the calm Serenity of a contented Mind free from Guilt and Ambition; a Mind, that, having subdued every sensual Appetite, despises the Smiles as well as Frowns of Fortune, and taking no Delight but in Contemplation, desires nothing but what every Body is able to give to himself: A Mind, that arm’da with Fortitude and Resolution has learn’d to sustain the greatest Losses without Concern, to endure Pain without Affliction, and to bear Injuries without Resentment. Many have own’d themselves arriv’d to this height of Self-denial, and then, if we may believe them, they were rais’d above common Mortals, and their Strength extended vastly beyond the pitch of their first Nature: they could behold the Anger of Threatning Tyrants and the most imminent Dangers without Terror, and preserv’d their Tranquillity in the midst of Tor-[161]ments: Death it self they could meet with Intrepidity, and left the World with no greater Reluctance than they had shew’d Fondness at their Entrance into it.

  These among the Ancients have always bore the greatest Sway; yet others that were no Fools neither, have exploded those Precepts as impracticable, call’d their Notions Romantick, and endeavour’d to prove that what these Stoicks asserted of themselves exceeded all human Force and Possibility, and that therefore the Virtues they boasted of could be nothing but haughty Pretencea , full of Arrogance and Hypocrisy; yet notwithstanding these Censures, the serious Part of the World, and the generality of Wise Men that have liv’d ever since to this Day, agree with the Stoicks in the most material Points; as that there can be no true Felicity in what depends on Things perishable; that Peace within is the greatest Blessing, and no Conquest likeb that of our Passions; that Knowledge, Temperance, Fortitude, Humility, and other Embellishments of the Mind are the most valuable Acquisitions; that no Man can be happy but he that is good; and that the Virtuous are only capable of enjoying real Pleasures.

  I expect to be ask’d why in the Fable I have call’d those Pleasures real that are directly opposite to those which I own the wise Men of all Ages have extoll’d as the most valuable. My Answer is, because I don’t call things Pleasuresc [162]which Men say are best, but such as they seem to be most pleased with;1 how can I believe that a Man’s chief Delight is in the Embellishments of the Mind, when I see him everd employ’d about and daily pursue the Pleasures that are contrary to them? John never cuts any Pudding, but just enough that you can’t say he took none; this little Bit, after much chomping and chewing you see goes down with him like chopp’d Hay;2 after that he falls upon the Beef with aa voracious Appetite, and crams himself up to his Throat. Is it not provoking to hear John cry every Day that Pudding is all his Delight, and that he don’t value the Beef of a Farthing?

  I could swagger about Fortitude and the Contempt of Riches as much as Seneca himself, and would undertake to write twice as much in behalf of Poverty as ever he did, for the tenth Part of his Estate:1 I could teach the way to his Summum bonum as exactly as I know my way home: I could tell People that to extricate themselves from all worldly Engagements, and to purify the Mind, they must divest themselves of their Passions, as Men take out the Furniture when they would clean a Room thoroughly; and I am clearly of the Opinion, that the Malice and most severe Strokes of Fortune can do no more Injury to a Mind thus stript of all Fears, Wishes and Inclinations, than a blind Horse can do in an empty Barn. In the The-[163]ory of all this I am very perfect, but the Practice is very difficult; and if you went about picking my Pocket, offer’d to take the Victuals from before me when I am hungry, or made but the least Motion of spitting in my Face, I dare not promise how Philosophically I should behave my self. But that I am forced to submit to every Caprice of my unruly Nature, you’ll say, is no Argument that others are as little Masters of theirs, and therefore I am willing to pay Adoration to Virtue wherever I can meet with it, with a Proviso that I shall not be obliged to admit any as such, where I can see no Self-denial, or to judge of Mens Sentiments from their Words, where I have their Lives before me.

  I have search’d through every Degree and Station of Men, and confess, that I have found no where more Austerity of Manners, or greater Contempt of Earthly Pleasures, than in some Religious Houses, where People freely resigning and retiring from the World to combat themselves, have no other Business but to subdue their Appetites. What can be a greater Evidence of perfect Chastity, and a superlative Love to immaculate Purity in Men and Women, than that in the Prime of their Age, when Lust is most raging, they should actually seclude themselves from each others Company, and by a voluntary Renunciation debar themselves for Life, not only from Uncleanness, but [164]even the most lawful Embraces? Those that abstain from Flesh, and often all manner of Food, one wou’d think in the right way to conquer all Carnal Desires; and I could almost swear, that he don’t consult his Ease, who daily mauls his bare back and Shoulders with unconscionable Stripes, and constantly roused at Midnight from his Sleep, leaves his Bed for his Devotion. Who can despise Riches more, or shew himself less Avaricious than he, who won’t so much as touch Gold or Silver, no not with his Feet?1 Or can any Mortal shew himself less Luxurious or more humble than the Man, that making Poverty his Choice, contents himself with Scraps and Fragments, and refuses to eat any Bread but what is bestow’d upon him by the Charity of others.

  Such fair Instances of Self-denial would make me bow down to Virtue, if I was not deterr’d and warn’d from it by so many Persons of Eminence and Learning, who unanimously tell me that I am mistaken, and all I have seen is Farce and Hypocrisy; that what Seraphick Love they may pretend to, there is nothing but Discord among them, and that how Penitential the Nuns and Friars may appear in their several Con-vents , they none of them sacrifice their darling Lusts: That among the Women they are not all Virgins that pass for such, and that if I was to be let into their Secrets, and[165] examine some of their Subterraneous Privacies, I should soon bea convinced by Scenes of Horror, that some of them must have been Mothers.1 That among the Men I should find Calumny, Envy and Ill-nature in the highest degree, or else Gluttony, Drunkenness, and Impurities of a more execrable kind than Adultery it self: And as for the Mendicant Orders, that they differ in nothing but their Habits from other sturdy Beggars, who deceive People with a pitiful Tone and an outward Shew of Misery, and as soon as they are out of sight, lay by their Cant, indulge their Appetites, and enjoy one another.

  If the strict Rules, and so many outward signs of Devotion observ’d among those religious Orders, deserve such harsh Censures, we may well despair of meeting with Virtue any where else; for if we look into the Actions of the Antagonists and greatestb Accusers of those Votaries, we shall not find so much as the Appearance of Self-denial. The Reverend Divines of all Sects, even of the most Reformed Churches in all Countries, take care with the Cyclops Evangeliphorusc first; ut ventri bene sit, and afterwards, ne quid desit iis quæ sub ventre sunt.2 To these they’ll desire you to add convenient Houses, handsome Furniture, good Fires in Winter, pleasant Gardens in Summer, neat Clothes, and Money enough to bring up their Children; Precedency in all Companies, [166]Respect from every body, and then as much Religion as you please. The Things I have named are thea necessary Comforts of Life, which the most Modest are not asham’d to claim, and which they are very uneasy without. They are, ’tis true, made of the same Mould, and have the same corrupt Nature with other Men, born with the same Infirmities, subject to the same Passions, and liable to the same Temptations, and therefore if they are diligent in their Calling, and can but abstain from Murder, Adultery, Swearing, Drunkenness, and other hainous Vices, their Lives are called unblemish’d, and their Reputations unspotted; their Function renders them holy, and the Gratification of so many Carnal Appetites and the Enjoyment of so much luxurious Ease notwithstanding, they may set upon themselves what Value their Pride and Parts will allow them.

  All this I have nothing against, but I see no Self-denial, without which there can be no Virtue. Is it such a Mortification not to desire a greater Share of worldly Blessings, than what every reasonable Man ought to be satisfy’d with? Or is there any mighty Merit in not being flagitious, and forbearing Indecencies that are repugnant to good Manners, and which no prudent Man would be guilty of, tho’ he had no Religion at all?

  I know I shall be told, that the Reason why the Clergy are so violent in their Resentments, [167]when at any time they are but in the least affronted, and shew themselves so void of all Patience when their Rights are invaded, is their great care to preserve their Calling, their Profession from Contempt, not for their own sakes, but to be more serviceable to others. ’Tis the same Reason that makes ’ema sollicitous about the Comforts and Conveniences of Life; for should they suffer themselves to be insulted over, be content with a coarser Diet, and wear more ordinary Clothes than other People, the Multitude, who judge from outward Appearances, would be apt to think that the Clergy was no more the immediate Care of Providence than other Folks, and so not only undervalue their Persons, but despise likewise all the Reproofs and Instructions that came from ’em. This is an admirable Plea, and as it is much made use of, I’ll try the Worth of it.

  I am not of the Learned Dr. Echard’s Opinion, that Poverty is one of those things that bring the Clergy into Contempt,1 any further than as it may be an Occasion of discovering their blind side: For when Men are always struggling with their low Condition, and are unable to bear the Burthen of it without Reluctancy, it is then they shew how uneasy their Poverty sits upon them, how glad they would be to have their Circumstances meliorated, and what a real value they have for the good things of this World. [168]He that harangues on the Contempt of Riches, and the Vanity of Earthly Enjoyments, in a rusty threadbare Gown, because he has no other, and would wear his old greasy Hat no longer if any body would give him a better; that drinks Small-beer at Home with a heavy Countenance, but leaps at a Glass of Wine if he can catch it Abroad; that with little Appetite feeds upona his own coarse Mess, but falls to greedily where he can please his Palate, and expresses an uncommon Joy at an Invitation to a splendid Dinner: ’Tis he that is despised, not because he is Poor, but because he knows not how to be so with that Content and Resignation which he preaches to others, and so discovers his Inclinations to be contrary to his Doctrine. But when a Man from the greatness of his Soul (or an obstinate Vanity, which will dob as well) resolving to subdue his Appetites in good earnest, refuses all the Offers of Ease and Luxury that can be made to him, and embracing a voluntary Poverty with Chearfulness, rejects whatever may gratify the Senses, and actually sacrifices all his Passions to his Pride in acting this Part, the Vulgar, far from contemning, will be ready to deify and adore him. How famous have the Cynick Philosophers made themselves, only by refusing to dissimulate and make use of Superfluities? Did not the most Ambitious Monarch the World ever bore, condescend to visit Diogenes in his Tub, and re-[169]turn to a study’d Incivility, the highest Compliment a Man of his Pride was able to make?

  Mankind are very willing to take one anothers Word, when they see some Circumstances that corroborate what is told them; but when our Actions directly contradict what we say, it is counted Impudence to desire Belief. If a jolly hale Fellow with glowing Cheeks and warm Hands, newly return’d from some smart Exercise, or else the cold Bath, tells us in frosty Weather, that he cares not for the Fire, we are easily induced to believe him, especially if he actually turns from it, and we know by his Circumstances that he wants neither Fuel nor Clothes: but if we should hear the same from the Mouth of a poor starv’d Wretch, with swell’d Hands, and a livid Countenance, in a thin ragged Garment, we should not believe a Word of what he said, especially if we saw him shaking and shivering, creep toward the Sunny Bank; and we would conclude, let him say what he could, that warm Clothes and a good Fire would be very acceptable to him. The Application is easy, and therefore if there be any Clergy upon Earth that would be thought not to care for the World, and to value the Soul above the Body, let them only forbear shewing a greater concern for their Sensual Pleasures than they generally do for their Spiritual ones, and they may rest satisfy’d, that no Poverty, while they bear it with Fortitude, will ever bring [170]them into Contempt, how mean soever their Circumstances may be.

  Let us suppose a Pastor that has a little Flock entrusted to him, of which he is very careful: He preaches, visits, exhorts, reproves among his People with Zeal and Prudence, and does them all the kind Offices that lie in his Power to make them happy. There is no doubt but those under his Care must be very much oblig’d to him. Now we’ll suppose once more, that this good Man by the help of a little Self-denial, is contented to live upon half his Income, accepting only of Twenty Pounds a Year instead of Forty, which he could claim; and moreover that he loves his Parishioners so well, that he will never leave them for any Preferment whatever, no not a Bishoprick, tho’ it be offer’d. I can’t see but all this might be an easy task to a Man who professes Mortification, and has no Value for worldly Pleasures; yet such a disinterested Divine I dare promise, notwithstanding the great degeneracy of Mankind will be lov’d, esteem’d and have every Body’s good Word; nay I would swear, that tho’ he should yet further exert himself, give above half of his small Revenue to the Poor, live upon nothing but Oatmeal and Water, lie upon Straw, and wear the coarsest Cloth that could be made, his mean way of Living would never be reflected on, or be a Disparagement either to himself or the Order he belong’d to; but that on the [171]contrary his Poverty would never be mentioned but to his Glory, as long as his Memory should last.

  But (says a charitable young Gentlewoman) tho’ you have the Heart to starve your Parson, have you no Bowels of Compassion for his Wife and Children? Pray what must remain of Forty Pounds a Year after it has been twice so unmercifully split? Or would you have the poor Woman and the innocent Babes likewise live upon Oatmeal and Water, and lie upon Straw, you unconscionable Wretch, with all your Suppositions and Self-denials? Nay, is it possible, tho’ they should all live at your own murd’ring rate, that less than Ten Pounds a Year could maintain a Family?——Don’t be in a Passion, good Mrs. Abigail,1 I have a greater regard for your Sex than to prescribe such a lean Diet to married Men; but I confess I forgot the Wives and Children: The main Reason was, because I thought poor Priests could have no occasion for them. Who could imagine that the Parson who is to teach others by Example as well as Precept, was not able to withstand those Desires which the wicked World it self calls unreasonable?a What is the Reason when a Prentice marries before he is out of his Time, that unless he meets with a good Fortune, all his Relations are angry with him, and every body blames him? Nothing else but because at that time he has no Money at his disposal, and [172]being bound to his Master’s Service, has no leisure, and perhaps little Capacity to provide for a Family. What must we say to a Parson that has Twenty, or if you will Forty Pounds a Year, that being bound more strictly to all the Services a Parish and his Duty require, has little time and generally much less Ability to get any more? Is it not very unreasonableb he should Marry? But why should a sober young Man, who is guilty of no Vice, be debarr’d from lawful Enjoyments? Right; Marriage is lawful, and so is a Coach; but what is that to People that have not Money enough to keep one? If he must have a Wife, let him look out for one with Money, or wait for a greater Benefice or something else to maintain her handsomely, and bear all incident Charges. But no body that has any thing her self will have him, and he can’t stay: He has a very good Stomach, and all the Symptomsc of Health; ’tis not every body that can live without a Woman; ’tis better to marry than burn.1 ——What a World of Self-denial is here? The sober young Man is very willing to be Virtuous, but you must not cross his Inclinations; he promises never to be a Deer-stealer, upon Condition that he shall have Venison of his own, and no body must doubt but that if it came to the Push, he is qualify’d to suffer Martyrdoma , tho’ he owns that he has not Strength enough, patiently tob bear a scratch’d Finger.

  [173]When we see so many of the Clergy, to indulge their Lust, a brutish Appetite, run themselves after this manner upon an inevitable Poverty, which unless they could bear it with greater Fortitude than they discover in all their Actions, must of necessity make them contemptible to all the World, what Credit must we givec them, when they pretend that they conform themselves to the World, not because they take delight in the several Decencies, Conveniences, and Ornaments of it, but only to preserve their Function from Contempt, in order to be more useful to others? Have we not reason to believe, that what they say is full of Hypocrisy and Falshood, and that Concupiscence is not the only Appetite they want to gratify; that the haughty Airs and quick Sense of Injuries, the curious Elegance in Dress, and Niceness of Palate, to be observ’d in most of them that are able to shew them, are the Results of Pride and Luxury in them as they, are in other People, and that the Clergy are not possess’d of more intrinsick Virtue than any other Profession?

  I am afraid that by this time I have given many of my Readers a real Displeasure, by dwelling so long upon the Reality of Pleasure; but I can’t help it, there is one thing comes into my Head to corroborate what I have urg’d already, which I can’t forbear mentioning: It is this: Those who govern others throughout the [174]World, are at least as Wise as the People that are govern’d by them, generally speaking: If for this reason we woulda take Pattern from our Superiors, we have but to cast our Eyes on all the Courts and Governments in the Universe, and we shall soon perceive from the Actions of the Great Ones, which Opinion they side with, and what Pleasures those in the highest Stations of all seem to be most fond of: For if it be allowable at all to judge of People’s Inclinations from their Manner of Living, none can be less injur’d by it than those who are the most at Liberty to do as they please.

  If the great ones of the Clergy as well as the Laity of any Country whatever, had no value for earthly Pleasures, and did not endeavour to gratify their Appetites, why are Envy and Revenge so raging among them, and all the other Passions improv’d and refin’d upon in Courts of Princes more than any where else, and why are their Repasts, their Recreations, and whole manner of Living always such as are approv’d of, coveted, and imitated by the most sensual People of that same Country? If despising all visible Decorations they were only in Love with the Embellishments of the Mind, why should they borrow so many of the Implements, and make use of the most darling Toys of the Luxurious? Why should a Lord-Treasurer, or a Bishop, or even the Grand Signior, or the Pope of Rome, to be good and [175]virtuous, and endeavour the Conquest of his Passions, have occasion for greater Revenues, richer Furniture, or a more numerous Attendance, as to Personal Service, than a private Man? What Virtue is it the Exercise of which requires so much Pomp and Superfluity, as are to be seen by all Men in Power? A Man has as much Opportunity to practise Temperance, that has but one Dish at a Meal, as he that is constantly serv’d with three Courses and a dozen Dishes in each: One may exercise as much Patience, and be as full of Self-denial on a few Flocks, without Curtains or Tester, as in a Velvet Bed that is Sixteen Foot high. The Virtuous Possessions of the Mind are neither Charge nor Burden: A Man may bear Misfortunes with Fortitude in a Garret, forgive Injuries a-foot,a and be Chaste, tho’ he has not a Shirt to his Back; and therefore I shall never believe, but that an indifferent Skuller, if he was entrusted with it, might carry all the Learning and Religion that one Man can contain, as well as a Barge with Six Oars, especially if it was but to cross from Lambeth to Westminster; or that Humility is so ponderous a Virtue, that it requires six Horses to draw it.1

  To say that Men not being so easily govern’d by their Equals as by their Superiors, it is necessary that to keep the multitude in awe, those who rule over us should excel others in outward Appearance, and conse-[176]quently that all in high Stations should have Badges of Honour, and Ensigns of Power to be distinguish’d from the Vulgar, is a frivolous Objection. This in the first Place can only be of use to poor Princes, and weak and precarious Governments, that being actually unable to maintain the publick Peace, are obliged with a Pageant Shew to make up what they want in real Power: So the Governor of Batavia in the East-Indies is forced to keep up a Grandeur, and live in ab Magnificence above his Quality, to strike a Terror in the Natives of Java, who, if they had Skill and Conduct, are strong enough to destroy ten times the number of their Masters; but great Princes and States that keep large Fleets at Sea, and numerous Armies in the Field, have no Occasion for such Stratagems; for what makes ’em formidable Abroad, will never fail to be their Security at Home. Secondly, what must protect the Lives and Wealth of People from the Attempts of wicked Men in all Societies, is the Severity of the Laws, and diligent Administration of impartial Justice. Theft, House-breaking and Murther are not to be prevented by the Scarlet Gownsa of the Aldermen, the Gold Chains of the Sheriffs, the fine Trappings of their Horses, or any gaudy Shew whatever: Those pageant Ornaments are beneficial another way; they are eloquent Lectures to Prentices, and the use of them is to animate not to deter: butb Men of abandon’d [177]Principles must be aw’d by rugged Officers, strong Prisons, watchful Jailors, the Hangman and the Gallows. If London was to be one Week destitute of Constables and Watchmen to guard the Houses a-nights, half the Bankers would be ruin’d in that time, and if my Lord Mayor had nothing to defend himself but his great two-handed Sword, the huge Cap of Maintenance, and his gilded Mace, he would soon be strip’d in the very Streets of the City of all his Finery in his stately Coach.

  But let us grant that the Eyes of the Mobility are to be dazzled with a gaudy outside; if Virtue was the chief Delight of great Men, why should their Extravagance be extended to Things not understood by the Mob, and wholly removed from publick View, I mean their private Diversions, the Pomp and Luxury of the Dining-room and the Bed-chamber, and the Curiosities of the Closet? Few of the Vulgar know that there is Wine of a Guinea the Bottle, that Birds no bigger than Larks are often sold for half a Guinea a-piece, or that a single Picture may be worth several thousand Pounds: Besides, is it to be imagin’d, that unless it was to please their own Appetitesc Men should put themselves to such vast Expences for a Political Shew, and be so sollicitous to gain the Esteem of those whom they so much despise in every thing else? If we allow that the Splendor and all the Elegancy of a Court area insipid, and only tiresome to the Prince himself, and are [178]altogether made use of to preserve Royal Majesty from Contempt, can we say the same of half a dozen illegitimate Children, most of them the Offspring of Adultery by the same Majesty, got, educated, and made Princes at the Expence of the Nation? Therefore it is evident, that this awing of the Multitude by a distinguish’d manner of living, is only a Cloke and Pretence, under which great Men would shelter their Vanity, and indulge every Appetite about them without Reproach.

  A Burgomaster of Amsterdam in his plain, black Suit, follow’d perhaps by one Footman, is fully as much respected and better obey’d than a Lord Mayor of London with all his splendid Equipage and great Train of Attendance. Where there is a real Power it is ridiculous to think that any Temperance or Austerity of Life should ever render the Person in whom that Power is lodg’d contemptible in his Office, from an Emperor to the Beadle of a Parish. Cato in his Government of Spain, in which he acquitted himself with so much Glory, had only three Servants to attend him;1 do we hear that any of his Orders were ever slighted for this, notwithstanding that he lov’d his Bottle? And when that great Man march’d on Foot thro’ the scorching Sands of Libya, and parch’d up with Thirst, refus’d to touch the Water that was brought him, before all his Soldiers had drank,2 do we ever read that this Heroick Forbearance weakned his Authority, or lessen’d [179]him in the Esteem of his Army? But what need we go so far off? There has not these many Ages been a Prince less inclin’d to Pomp and Luxury than the† present King of Sweden, who enamour’d with the Title of Hero, has not only sacrific’d the Lives of his Subjects, and Welfare of his Dominions, but (what is more uncommon in Sovereigns) his own Ease, and all the Comforts of Life, to an implacable Spirit of Revenge; yet he is obey’d to the Ruin of his People, in obstinately maintaining a War that has almost utterly destroy’d his Kingdom.1

  †This was wrote in 1714.aThus I have prov’d, that the real Pleasures of all Men in Nature are worldly and sensual, if we judge from their Practice; I say all Men in Nature, because Devout Christians, who alone are to be excepted here, being regenerated, and preternaturally assisted by the Divine Grace, cannot be said to be in Nature. How strange it is, that they should all so unanimously deny it! Ask not only the Divines and Moralists of every Nation, but likewise all that are rich and powerful, about real Pleasure, and they’ll tell you, with the Stoicks that there can be no true Felicity in Things Mundane and Corruptible: but then look upon their Lives, and you will find they take delight in no other.

  What must we do in this Dilemma? Shall we be so uncharitable, as judging from Mens Actions to say, That all the World prevaricates, [180]and that this is not their Opinion, let them talk what they will? Or shall we be so silly, as relying on what they say, to think them sincere in their Sentiments, and so not believe our own Eyes? Or shall we rather endeavour to believe our selves and them too, and say with Montagne, that they imagine, and are fully persuaded, that they believe what yet they do not believe? These are his Words; Some impose on the World, and would be thought to believe what they really don’t: but much the greater number impose upon themselves, not considering nor thoroughly apprehending what it is to believe.1 But this is making all Mankind either Fools or Impostors, which to avoid, there is nothing left us, buta to say what Mr. Bayle has endeavour’d to prove at large in his Reflexions on Comets: That Man is so unaccountable a Creature as to act most commonly against his Principle;2 and this is so far from being injurious, that it is a Compliment to Human Nature, for we must say either this or worse.

  This Contradiction in the Frame of Man is the Reason that the Theory of Virtue is so well understood, and the Practice of it so rarely to be met with. If you ask me where to look for those beautiful shining Qualities of Prime Ministers, and the great Favourites of Princes that are so finely painted in Dedications, Addresses, Epitaphs, Funeral Sermons and Inscriptions, I answer There, and no where else. Where would [181]you look for the Excellency of a Statue, but in that Part which you see of it? ’Tis the Polish’d Outside only that has the Skill and Labour of the Sculptor to boast of; what’s out of sight is untouch’d. Would you break the Head or cut open the Breast to look for the Brains or the Heart, you’d only shew your Ignorance, and destroy the Workmanship. This has often made me compare the Virtues of great Men to your large China Jars: they make a fine Shew, and are Ornamental evena to a Chimney; one would by the Bulk they appear in, and the Value that is set upon ’em,b think they might be very useful, but look into a thousand of them, and you’ll find nothing in them but Dust and Cobwebs.

  (P.)a —— —— The very Poor Liv’d better than the Rich before: Page 11. Line 13.

  IF we trace the most flourishing Nations in their Origin, we shall find that in the remote Beginnings of every Society, the richest and most considerable Men among them were a great while destitute of a great many Comforts of Life that are now enjoy’d by the meanest and most humble Wretches: So that [182]many things which were once look’d upon as the Invention of Luxury, are now allow’d even to those that are so miserably poor as to become the Objects of publick Charity, nay counted so necessary, that we think no Human Creature ought to want them.

  In the first Ages, Man, without doubt, fed on the Fruits of the Earth, without any previous Preparation, and reposed himself naked like other Animals on the Lap of their common Parent: Whatever has contributed since to make Life more comfortable, as it must have been the Result of Thought, Experience, and some Labour, so it more or less deserves the Name of Luxury, the more or less trouble it required, and deviated from the primitive Simplicity. Our Admiration is extended no farther than tob what is new to us, and we all overlook the Excellency of Things we are used to, be they never so curious. A Man would be laugh’d at, that should discover Luxury in the plain Dress of a poor Creature that walks along in a thick Parish Gown and a course Shirt underneath it; and yet what a number of People, how many different Trades, and what a variety of Skill and Tools must be employed to have the most ordinary Yorkshire Cloth? What depth of Thought and Ingenuity, what Toil and Labour, and what length of Time must it have cost, before Man could learn [183]from a Seed to raise and prepare so useful a Product as Linen.

  Must that Society not be vainly curious, among whom this admirable Commodity, after it is made, shall not be thought fit to be used even by the poorest of all, before it is brought to a perfect Whiteness, which is not to be procur’d but by the Assistance of all the Elements join’d to a world of Industry and Patience? I have not done yet: Can we reflect not only on the Cost laid out upon this Luxurious Invention, but likewise on the little time the Whiteness of it continues, in which part of its Beauty consists, that every six or seven Days at farthesta it wants cleaning, and while it lasts is a continual Charge to the Wearer; can we, I say, reflect on all this, and not think it an extravagant Piece of Nicety, that even those who receive Alms of the Parish, should not only have whole Garments made of this operose Manufacture, but likewise that as soon as they are soil’d, to restore them to their pristine Purity, they should make use of one of the most judicious as well as difficult Compositions that Chymistry can boast of; with which, dissolv’d in Water by the help of Fire, the most detersive, and yet innocent Lixivium is prepar’d that Human Industry has hitherto been able to invent?

  It is certain, Time was that the things I speak of would have bore those lofty Expressions, [184]and in which every Body would have reason’d after the same manner; but the Age we live in would call a Man Fool who should talk of Extravagance and Nicety, if he saw a Poor Woman, after having wore her Crown Cloth Smock a whole Week, wash it with a bit of stinking Soap of a Groat a Pound.

  The Arts of Brewing, and making Bread, have by slow degrees been brought to the Perfection they now areb in, but to have invented them at once, and à priori, would have required more Knowledge and a deeper Insight into the Nature of Fermentation, than the greatest Philosopher has hitherto been endowed with; yet the Fruits of both are now enjoy’d by the meanest of our Species, and a starving Wretch knows not how to make a more humble, or a more modest Petition, than by asking for a Bit of Bread, or a Draught of Small Beer.

  Man has learn’d by Experience, that nothing was softer than the small Plumes and Down of Birds, and found that heap’d together they would by their Elasticity gently resist any incumbent Weight, and heave up again of themselves as soon as the Pressure is over. To make use of them to sleep upon was, no doubt, first invented to compliment the Vanity as well as Ease of the Wealthy and Potent; but they are long since become so common, that almost every Body lies upon Featherbeds, and to substitute Flocks in the room of them is counted a misera-[185]ble Shift of the most Necessitous. What a vast height must Luxury have been arriv’d to before it could be reckon’d a Hardship to repose upon the soft Wool of Animals!

  From Caves, Huts, Hovels, Tents and Barracks, with which Mankind took up at first we are come to warm and well-wrought Houses, and the meanest Habitations to be seen in Cities, are regular Buildings contriv’d by Persons skill’d in Proportions and Architecture. If the Ancient Britons and Gauls should come out of their Graves, with what Amazement wou’d they gaze on the mighty Structures every where rais’d for the Poor! Should they behold the Magnificence of a Chelsey-College,1 a Greenwich-Hospital ,1 or what surpasses all them, a Des Invalides at Paris, and see the Care, the Plenty, the Superfluities and Pomp, which People that have no Possessions at all are treated with in those stately Palaces, those who were once the greatest and richest ofa the Land would have Reason to envy the most reduced of our Species now.

  Another Piece of Luxury the Poor enjoy, that is not look’d upon as such, and which there is no doubt but the Wealthiest in a Golden Age would abstain from, is their making use of the Flesh of Animals to eat. In what concerns the Fashions and Manners of the Ages Men live in, they never examine into the real Worth or Merit of the Cause, and generally [186]judge of things not as their Reason, but Custom directb them. Time was when the Funeral Rites in the disposing of the Dead were perform’d by Fire, and the Cadavers of the greatest Emperors were burnt to Ashes. Then burying the Corps in the Ground was a Funeral for Slaves, or madec a Punishment for the worst of Malefactors. Now nothing is decent or honourable but interring, and burning the Body is reserv’d for Crimes of the blackest dye. At some times we look upon Trifles with Horror, at other times we can behold Enormities without Concern. If we see a Man walk with his Hat on in a Church, though out of Service time, it shocks us, but if on a Sunday Night we meet half a dozen Fellows Drunk in the Street, the Sight makes little or no Impression upon us. If a Woman at a Merry-making dresses in Man’s Clothes, it is reckon’d a Frolick amongst Friends, and he that finds too much Fault with it is counted censorious: Upon the Stage it isd done without Reproach, and the most Virtuous Ladies will dispense with it in an Actress, tho’ every Body has a full View of her Legs and Thighs; but if the same Woman, as soon as she has Petticoats on again, should show her Leg to a Man as high as her Knee, it would be a very immodest Action, and every Body will call her impudent for it.

  [187]I have often thought, if it was not for this Tyranny which Custom usurps over us, that Men of any tolerable Good-nature could never be reconcil’d to the killing of so many Animals for their daily Food, as long as the bountiful Earth so plentifully provides them with Varieties of vegetable Dainties. I know that Reason excites our Compassion but faintly, and therefore I would not wonder how Men should so little commiserate such imperfect Creatures as Crayfish, Oysters, Cockles, and indeed all Fish in general: As they are mute, and their inward Formation, as well as outward Figure, vastly different from ours, they express themselves unintelligibly to us, and therefore ’tis not strange that their Grief should not affect our Understanding which it cannot reach; for nothing stirs us to Pity so effectually, as when the Symptoms of Misery strike immediately upon our Senses, and I have seen People mov’d at the Noise a live Lobster makes upon the Spit, that could have kill’d half a dozen Fowls with Pleasure. But in such perfect Animals as Sheep and Oxen, in whom the Heart, the Brain and Nerves differ so little from ours, and in whom the Separation of the Spirits1 from the Blood, the Organs of Sense, and consequently Feeling it self, are the same as they are in Human Creatures; I can’t imagine how a Man not hardned in Blood and Massacre, is able to see a vio-[188]lent Death, and the Pangs of it, without Concern.

  In answer to this, most People will think it sufficient to say, that all Things being allow’d to be made for the Service of Man, there can be no Cruelty in putting Creatures to the use they were design’d for; but I have heard Men make this Reply, while their Nature within them has reproach’d them with the Falshood of the Assertion. There is of all the Multitude not one Man in ten but what will own, (if he was not brought up in a Slaughter-house) that of all Trades he could never have been a Butcher; and I question whether ever any body so much as killed a Chicken without Reluctancy the first time. Some People are not to be persuaded to taste of any Creatures they have daily seen and been acquainted with, while they were alive; others extend their Scruple no further than to their own Poultry, and refuse to eat what they fed and took care of themselves; yet all of them will feed heartily and without Remorse on Beef, Mutton and Fowls when they are bought in the Market. In this Behaviour, methinks, there appears something like a Consciousness of Guilt, it looks as if they endeavour’d to save themselves from the Imputation of a Crime (which they know sticks somewhere) by removing the Cause of it as far as they can from themselves; and I can discover in it some strong remains of Primitive [189]Pity and Innocence, which all the arbitrary Power of Custom, and the violence of Luxury, have not yet been able to conquer.

  What I build upon I shall be told is a Folly that wise Men are not guilty of: I own it; but while it proceeds from a real Passion inherent in our Nature, it is sufficient to demonstrate that we are born with a Repugnancy to the killing, and consequently the eating of Animals; for it is impossible that a natural Appetite should ever prompt us to act, or desire others to do, what we have an Aversion to, be it as foolish as it will.

  Every body knows, that Surgeons in the Cure of dangerous Wounds and Fractures, the Extirpationsa of Limbs, and other dreadful Operations, are often compell’d to put their Patients to extraordinary Torments, and that the more desperate and calamitous Cases occur to them, the more the Outcries and bodily Sufferings of others must become familiar to them; for this Reason our English Law, out of a most affectionate Regard to the Lives of the Subject, allows them not to be of any Jury upon Life and Death, as supposing that their Practice it self is sufficient to harden and extinguish in them that Tenderness, without which no Man is capable of setting a true Value upon the Lives of his Fellow-creatures. Now if we ought to have no Concern for what we do to Brute Beasts, and there was not imagin’d to be any [190]Cruelty in killing them, why should of all Callings Butchers, and only they jointly with Surgeons, be excluded from being Jury-men by the same Law?1

  I shall urge nothing of what Pythagoras and many other Wise Men have said concerning this Barbarity of eating Flesh; I have gone too much out of my way already, and shall therefore beg the Reader, if he would have any more of this, to run over the following Fable, or else, if he be tired, to let it alone, with an Assurance that in doing of either he shall equally oblige me.

  A Roman Merchant in one of the Carthaginian Wars was cast away upon the Coast of Africk: Himself and his Slave with great Difficulty got safe ashore; but going in quest of Relief, were met by aa Lion of a mighty Size. It happened to be one of the Breed that rang’d in Æsop’s Days, and one that could not only speak several Languages, but seem’d moreover very well acquainted with Human Affairs. The Slave got upon a Tree, but his Master not thinking himself safe there, and having heard much of the Generosity of Lions, fell down prostrate before him, with all the Signs of Fear and Submission. The Lion, who had lately fill’d his Belly, bids him rise, and for a while lay by his Fears, assuring him withal, that he should not be touch’d, if he could give him any tolerable Reasons why he [191]should not be devoured. The Merchant obeyed; and having now received some glimmering Hopes of Safety, gave a dismal Account of the Shipwrack he had suffered, and endeavouring from thence to raise the Lion’s Pity, pleaded his Cause with abundance of good Rhetorick; but observing by the Countenance of the Beastb that Flattery and fine Words made very little Impression, he betook himself to Arguments of greater Solidity, and reasoning from the Excellency of Man’s Nature and Abilities, remonstrated how improbable it was that the Gods should not have designed him for a better use than to be eat by Savage Beasts. Upon this the Lion became more attentive, and vouchsafed now and then a Reply, till at last the following Dialogue ensued between them.

  Oh Vain and Covetous Animal, (said the Lion) whose Pride and Avarice can make him leave his Native Soil, where his Natural Wants might be plentifully supply’d, and try rough Seas and dangerous Mountains to find out Superfluities, why should you esteem your Species above ours? And if the Gods have given you a Superiority over all Creatures, then why beg you of an Inferior? Our Superiority (answer’d the Merchant) consists not in bodily force but strength of Understanding; the Gods have endued us with a Rational Soul, which, tho’ invisible, is much the better part of us. I desire to touch nothing of you but what is good to eat; [192]but why do you value your self so much upon that part which is invisible? Because it is Immortal, and shall meet with Rewards after Death for the Actions of this Life, and the Just shall enjoy eternal Bliss and Tranquillity with the Heroes and Demi-Gods in the Elysian Fields. What Life have you led? I have honoured the Gods, and study’d to be beneficial to Man. Then why do you fear Death, if you think the Gods as just as you have been? I have a Wife and five small Children that must come to Want if they lose me. I have two Whelps that are not big enough to shift for themselves, that are in want now, and must actually be starv’d if I can provide nothing for them: Your Children will be provided for one way or other; at least as well when I have eat you as if you had been drown’d.

  As to the Excellency of either Species, the value of things among you has ever increas’d with the Scarcity of them, and to a Million of Men there is hardly one Lion; besides that, in the great Veneration Man pretends to have for his Kind, there is little Sincerity farther than it concerns the Share which every ones Pride has in it for himself; ’tis a Folly to boast of the Tenderness shewn and Attendance given to your young ones, or the excessive and lasting Trouble bestow’d in the Education of ’ema : Man being born the most necessitous and most helpless Animal, this is only an Instinct of Nature, which in all Creatures has ever proportion’d [193]the Care of the Parents to the Wants and Imbecillities of the Offspring. But if ab Man had a real Value for his kind, how is it possible that often Ten Thousand of them, and sometimes Ten times as many, should be destroy’d in few Hours for the Caprice of two? All degrees of Men despise those that are inferior to them, and if you could enter into the Hearts of Kings and Princes, you would hardly find any but what have less Value for the greatest Part of the Multitudes they rule over, than those have for the Cattle that belonga to them. Why should so many pretend to derive their Race, tho’ but spuriously, from the immortal Gods; why should all of them suffer others to kneel down before them, and more or less take delight in having Divine Honours pay’d them, but to insinuate that themselves are of a more exalted Nature, and a Species superior to that of their Subjects?

  Savage I am, but no Creature can be call’d cruel but what either by Malice or Insensibility extinguishes his natural Pity: The Lion was born without Compassion; we follow the Instinct of our Nature; the Gods have appointed us to live upon the Waste and Spoil of other Animals, and as long as we can meet with dead ones, we never hunt after the Living. ’Tis only Man, mischievous Man, that can make Death a Sport.1 Nature taught your Stomach to crave nothing but Vegetables; but your violent Fondness to change, and greater Eagerness after [194]Novelties, have prompted you to the Destruction of Animals without Justice or Necessity, perverted your Nature and warp’d your Appetites which way soever your Pride or Luxury have call’d them. The Lion has a Ferment within him that consumes the toughest Skin and hardest Bones as well as the Flesh of all Animals without Exception: Your squeamish Stomach, in which the Digestive Heat is weak and inconsiderable, won’t so much as admit of the most tender Parts of them, unless above half the Concoction has been perform’d by artificial Fire beforehand; and yet what Animal have you spared to satisfy the Caprices of a languid Appetite? Languid I say; for what is Man’s Hunger if compar’d to the Lion’s? Yours, when it is at the worst,a makes you Faint, mine makes me Mad: Oft have I tried with Roots and Herbs to allay the Violence of it, but in vain; nothing but large Quantities of Flesh can any ways appease it.

  Yet the Fierceness of our Hunger notwithstanding, Lions have often requited Benefits received; but ungrateful and perfidious Man feeds on the Sheep that clothes him, and spares not her innocent young ones, whom he has taken into his Care and Custody. If you tell me the Gods made Man Master over all other Creatures, what Tyranny was it then to destroy them out of Wantonness? No, fickle timorous Animal, the Gods have made you for Society, [195]and design’d that Millions of you, when well join’d together, should compose the strong Leviathan.1 A single Lion bears some Sway in the Creation, but what is single Man? A small and inconsiderable part, a trifling Atom of one great Beast. What Nature designs she executes, and ’tis not safe to judge of what she purpos’d, but from the Effects she shews: If she had intended that Man, as Man from a Superiority of Species, should lord it over all other Animals, the Tiger, nay, the Whale and Eagle, would have obey’d his Voice.

  But if your Wit and Understanding exceeds ours, ought not the Lion in deference to that Superiority to follow the Maxims of Men, with whom nothing is more sacred than that the Reason of the strongest is ever the most prevalent?1 Whole Multitudes of you have conspir’d and compass’d the Destruction of one, after they had own’d the Gods had made him their Superior; and one has often ruin’d and cut off whole Multitudes, whom by the same Gods he had sworn to defend and maintain. Man never acknowledg’d Superiority without Power, and why should I? The Excellence I boast of is visible, all Animals tremble at the sight of the Lion, not out of Panick Fear. The Gods have given me Swiftness to overtake, and Strength to conquer whatever comes near me. Where is there a Creature that has Teeth and Claws like mine; behold the Thickness of these massy Jaw-bones, [196]consider the Width of them, and feel the Firmness of this brawny Neck. The nimblest Deer, the wildest Boar, the stoutest Horse, and strongest Bull are my Prey wherever I meet them.2 Thus spoke the Lion, and the Merchant fainted away.

  The Lion, in my Opinion, has stretch’d the Point too far; yet when to soften the Flesh of Male Animals, we have by Castration prevented the Firmness their Tendons and every Fibre would have come to without it, I confess, I think it ought to move a human Creature when he reflects upon the cruel Care with which they are fatned for Destruction. When a large and gentle Bullock, after having resisted a ten times greater force of Blows than would have kill’d his Murderer, falls stunn’d at last, and his arm’d Head is fasten’d to the Ground with Cords; as soon as the wide Wound is made, and the Jugulars are cut asunder, what Mortal cana without Compassion hear the painful Bellowings intercepted by his Blood, the bitter Sighs that speak the Sharpness of his Anguish, and the deep sounding Grones with loud Anxiety fetch’d from the bottom of his strong and palpitating Heart; Look on the trembling and violent Convulsions of his Limbs; see, while his reeking Gore streams from him, his Eyes become dim and languid, and behold his Strugglings, Gasps and last Efforts for Life, the certain Signs of his approaching Fate? When a Creature has given [197]such convincing and undeniable Proofs of the Terrors upon him, and the Pains and Agonies he feels, is there a Follower of Descartes so inur’d to Blood, as not to refute, by his Commiseration, the Philosophy of that vain Reasoner?1

  (Q.)b —— —— —— For frugally They now liv’d on their Salary: Page 17. Line 3.

  WHEN People have small comings in, and are honest withal, it is then that the Generality of them begin to be frugal, and not before. Frugality in Ethicks is call’d that Virtue from the Principle of which Men abstain from Superfluities, and despising the operose Contrivances of Art to procure either Ease or Pleasure, content themselves with the natural Simplicity of things, and are carefully temperate in the Enjoyment of them without any Tincture of Covetousness. Frugality thus limited, is perhaps scarcer than many may imagine; but what is generally understood by it is a Quality more often to be met with, and consists in a Medium between Profuseness and Avarice, rather leaning to the latter. As this prudent Oeconomy, which some People call [198]Saving, is in private Families the most certain Method to increase an Estate, soa some imagine that whether a Country be barren or fruitful, the same Method, if generally pursued (which they think practicable) will have the same Effect upon a whole Nation,¹ and that, for Example, the English might be much richer than they are, if they would be as frugal as some of their Neighbours. This, I think, is an Error, which to prove I shall first refer the Reader to what has been said upon this head in Remark (L.) and then go on thus.

  Experience teaches us first, that as People differ in their Views and Perceptions of Things, so they vary in their Inclinations; one Man is given to Covetousness, another to Prodigality, and a third is only Saving. Secondly, that Men are never, or at least very seldom, reclaimed from their darling Passions, either by Reason or Precept, and that if any thing ever draws ’em from what they are naturally propense to, it must be a Change in their Circumstances or their Fortunes. If we reflect upon these Observations, we shall find that to render the generality of a Nation lavish, the Product of the Country must be considerable in proportion to the Inhabitants, and what they are profuse of cheap; that on the contrary, to make a Nation generally frugal, the Necessaries of Life must be scarce, and consequently dear; and that therefore let the best Politician do what he [199]can, the Profuseness or Frugality of a People in general, must always depend upon, and will in spite of his Teeth, be ever proportion’d to the Fruitfulness and Product of the Country, the Number of Inhabitants, and the Taxes they are to bear.1 If any body would refute what I have said, let hima only prove from History, that there ever was in any Country a National Frugality without a National Necessity.

  Let us examine then what things are requisite to aggrandize and enrich a Nation. The first desirable Blessings for any Society of Men areb a fertile Soil and a happy Climate, a mild Government, and more Land than People. These Things will render Man easy, loving, honest and sincere. In this Condition they may be as Virtuous as they can, without the least Injury to the Publick, and consequently as happy as they please themselves. But they shall have no Arts or Sciences, or be quiet longer than their Neighbours will let them; they must be poor, ignorant, and almost wholly destitute of what we call the Comforts of Life, and all the Cardinal Virtues together won’t so much as procure a tolerable Coat or a Porridge-Pot among them:c For in this State of slothful Ease and stupid Innocence, as you need not fear great Vices, so you must not expect any considerable Virtues. Man never exerts himself but when he is rous’d by his Desires: While they lie dormant, and there is nothing to raise them, [200]his Excellence and Abilities will be for ever undiscover’d, and the lumpish Machine, without the Influence of his Passions, may be justly compar’d to a huge Wind-mill without a breath of Air.

  Would you render a Society of Men strong and powerful, you must touch their Passions. Divide the Land, tho’ there be never so much to spare, and their Possessions will make them Covetous: Rouse them, tho’ but in Jest, from their Idleness with Praises, and Pride will set them to work in earnest: Teach them Trades and Handicrafts, and you’ll bring Envy and Emulation among them: To increase their Numbers, set up a Variety of Manufactures, and leave no Ground uncultivated; Let Property be inviolably secured, and Privileges equal to all Men; Suffer no body to act but what is lawful, and every body to think what he pleases; for a Country where every body may be maintained that will be employ’d, and the other Maxims are observ’d, must always be throng’d and can never want People, as long as there is any in the World. Would you have them bold and Warlike, turn to Military Discipline, make good use of their Fear, and flatter their Vanity with Art and Assiduity: But would you moreover render them an opulent, knowing and polite Nation, teach ’em Commerce with Foreign Countries, and if possible get into the Sea, which to compass spare no Labour nor Indus-[201]try, and let no Difficulty deter you from it: Then promote Navigation, cherish the Merchant, and encourage Trade in every Branch of it; this will bring Riches, and where they are, Arts and Sciences will soon follow, and by the Help of what I have named and good Management, it is that Politicians can make a People potent, renown’d and flourishing.

  But would you have a frugal and honest Society, the best Policy is to preserve Men in their Native Simplicity, strive not to increase their Numbers; let them never be acquainted with Strangers or Superfluities, but remove and keep from them every thing that might raise their Desires, or improve their Understanding.

  Great Wealth and Foreign Treasure will ever scorn to come among Men, unless you’ll admit their inseparable Companions, Avarice and Luxury: Where Trade is considerable Fraud will intrude. To be at once well-bred and sincere, is no less than a Contradiction; and therefore while Man advances in Knowledge, and his Manners are polish’d, we must expect to see at the same time his Desires enlarg’d, his Appetites refin’d, and his Vices increas’d.

  The Dutch may ascribe theira present Grandeur to the Virtue and Frugality of their Ancestors as they please; but what made that contemptible Spot of Ground so considerable among the principal Powers of Europe, has been their Political Wisdom in postponing every [202]thing to Merchandize and Navigation, the unlimited Liberty of Conscience that is enjoy’d among them, and the unwearied Application with which they have always made use of the most effectual means to encourage and increase Trade in general.

  They never were noted for Frugality before Philip II. of Spain began to rage over them with that unheard-of Tyranny. Their Laws were trampled upon, their Rights and large Immunities taken from them, and their Constitution torn to pieces. Several of their Chief Nobles were condemn’d and executed without legal Form of Process. Complaints and Remonstrances were punish’d as severely as Resistance, and those that escaped being massacred, were plundered by ravenous Soldiers. As this was intolerable to a People that had always been used to the mildest of Governments, and enjoy’d greater Privileges than any of the Neighbouring Nations, so they chose rather to die in Arms than perish by cruel Executioners. If we consider the Strength Spain had then, and the low Circumstances those Distress’d States were in, there never was heard of a more unequal Strife; yet such was their Fortitude and Resolution, that only seven of those Provinces1 uniting themselves together, maintain’d against the greatest, and best-disciplin’d Nation in Europe, the most tedious and bloody War, that is to be met with in ancient or modern History.a

  [203]Rather than to become a Victim to thebSpanish Fury,2 they were contented to live upon a third Part of their Revenues, and lay out far the greatest Part of their Income in defending themselves against their merciless Enemies. These Hardships and Calamities of a War within their Bowels, first put them upon that extraordinary Frugality, and the Continuance under the same Difficulties for above Fourscore Years, could not but render it Customary and Habitual to them. But all their Arts of Saving, and Penurious way of Living, could never have enabled them to make head against so Potent an Enemy, if their Industry in promoting their Fishery and Navigation in general, had not help’d to supply the Natural Wants and Disadvantages they labour’d under.

  The Country is so small and so populous, that there is not Land enough, (though hardly an Inch of it is unimprov’d) to feed the Tenth Part of the Inhabitants. Holland it self is full of large Rivers, and lies lower than the Sea, which would run over it every Tide, and wash it away in one Winter, if it was not kept out by vast Banks and huge Walls: The Repairs of those, as well as their Sluices, Keys, Mills, and other Necessaries they are forc’d to make use of to keep themselves from being drown’d, are a greater Expence to them one Year with another, than could be rais’d by a general Land Tax of Four Shillings in the [204]Pound, if to be deducted from the neat Produce of the Landlord’s Revenue.

  Is it aa Wonder that People under such Circumstances, and loaden with greater Taxes besides than any other Nation, should be obliged to be saving? But why must they be a Pattern to others, who besides that they are more happily situated, are much richer within themselves, and have, to the same Number of People, above ten times the Extent of Ground? The Dutch and we often buy and sell at the same Markets, and so far our Views may be said to be the same: Otherwise the Interests and Political Reasonsb of the two Nations as to the private Oeconomy of either, are very different. It is their Interest to be frugal and spend little: Because they must have every thing from abroad, except Butter, Cheese and Fish, and therefore of them, especially the latter, they consume three times the Quantity, which the same Number of People do here. It is our Interest to eat plenty of Beef and Mutton to maintain the Farmer, and further improve ourc Land, of which we have enough to feed our selves, and as many more, if it was better cultivated. The Dutch perhaps have more Shipping, and more ready Money than we, but then thosed are only to be considered as the Tools they work with. So a Carrier may have more Horses than a Man of ten times his Worth, and a Banker that has not above fifteen or sixteen Hundred Pounds [205]in the World, may have generally more ready Cash by him than a Gentleman of two Thousand a Year. He that keeps three or four Stage-Coaches to get his Bread, is to a Gentleman that keeps a Coach for his Pleasure, what the Dutch are in comparison to us; having nothing of their own but Fish, they are Carriers and Freighters to the rest of the World, while the Basis of our Trade chiefly depends upon our own Product.

  Another Instance, that what makes the Bulk of the People saving, are heavy Taxes, scarcity of Land, and such Things that occasion a Dearth of Provisions, may be given from what is observable among the Dutch themselves. In the Province of Holland there is a vast Trade, and an unconceivable Treasure of Money. The Land is almost as rich as Dung it self, and (as I have said once already) not an Inch of it unimprov’d. In Gelderland and Overyssel there’s hardly any Trade, and very little Money: The Soil is very indifferent, and abundance of Ground lies waste. Then what is the Reason that the same Dutch in the two latter Provinces, tho’ Poorer than the first, are yet less stingy and more hospitable? Nothing but that their Taxes in most Things are less Extravagant, and in proportion to the Number of People, theya have a great deal more ground. What they save in Holland, they save out of their Bellies; ’tis Eatables, [206]Drinkables and Fewel that their heaviest Taxes are upon, but they wear better Clothes, and have richer Furniture, than you’ll find in the other Provinces.

  Those that are frugal by Principle, are so in every Thing, but in Holland the People are only sparing in such Things as are daily wanted, and soon consumed; in what is lasting they are quite otherwise: In Pictures and Marble they are profuse; in their Buildings and Gardens they are extravagant to Folly. In other Countries you may meet with stately Courts and Palaces of great Extent that belong to Princes, which no body can expect in a Commonwealth, where so much Equality is observ’d as there is in this; but in all Europe you shall find no private Buildings so sumptuously Magnificent, as a great many of the Merchants and other Gentlemen’s Houses are in Amsterdam, and some other great Cities of that small Province; and the generality of those that build there, lay out a greater proportiona of their Estates on the Houses they dwell in than any People upon the Earth.

  The Nation I speak of was never in greater Straits, nor their Affairs in a more dismal Posture sinceb they were a Republick, than in the Year 1671, and the beginning of 1672.1 What we know of their Oeconomy and Constitution with any Certainty has been chiefly owing to Sir William Temple, whose Obser-[207]vations upon their Manners and Government, itc is evident from several Passages in his Memoirs, were made about that time.2 The Dutch indeed were then very frugal; but since those Days and that their Calamities have not been so pressing, (tho’ the common People, on whom the principal Burthen of all Excises and Impositions lies,d are perhaps much as they were) a great Alteration has been made among the better sort of People in their Equipages, Entertainments, and whole manner of living.

  Those who would have it that the Frugality of that Nation flows not so much from Necessity, as a general Aversion to Vice and Luxury, will put us in mind of their publick Administration and Smalness of Salaries, their Prudence in bargaining for and buying Stores and other Necessaries, the great Care they take not to be imposed upon by those that serve them, and their Severity against them that break their Contracts. But what they would ascribe to the Virtue and Honesty of Ministers, is wholly due to their strict Regulations, concerning the management of the publick Treasure, from which their admirable Form of Government will not suffer them to depart; and indeed one good Man may take another’s Word, if they so agree, but a whole Nation ought never to trust to any Honesty, but what is built upon Necessity; for unhappy is the People, and their Constitution will be ever precarious, whose [208]Welfare must depend upon the Virtues and Consciences of Ministers and Politicians.

  The Dutch generally endeavour to promote as much Frugality among their Subjects as ’tis possible, not because it is a Virtue, but because it is, generally speaking, their Interest, as I have shew’d before; for as this latter changes, so they alter their Maxims, as will be plain in the following Instance.

  As soon as their East-India Ships come home, the Company pays off the Men, and many of them receive the greatest Part of what they have been earning in seven or eight, and some fifteen or sixteen Years time. These poor Fellows are encourag’d to spend their Money with all Profuseness imaginable; and considering that most of them, when they set out at first, were Reprobates, that under the Tuition of a strict Discipline, and a miserable Diet, have been so long kept at hard Labour without Money, in the midst of Danger, it cannot be difficult to make them lavish as soon as they have Plenty.

  They squander away in Wine, Women and Musick, as much as People of their Taste and Education are well capable of, and are suffer’d (so they but abstain from doing of Mischief) to revel and riot with greater Licentiousness than is customary to be allow’d to others. You may in some Cities see them accompanied with three or four lewd Women, few of them sober, run roaring through the Streets by broad Day-light [209]with a Fidler before them: And if the Money, to their thinking, goes not fast enough these ways, they’ll find out others, and sometimes fling it among the Mob by handfuls. This Madness continues in most of them while they have any thing left, which never lasts long, and for this Reason, by a Nick-name, they are called, Lords of six Weeks, that being generally the time by which the Company has other Ships ready to depart; where these infatuated Wretches (their Money being gone) are forc’d to enter themselves again, and may have leisure to repent their Folly.

  In this Stratagem there is a double Policy: First, if these Sailors that have been inured to the hot Climates and unwholesome Air and Diet, should be frugal, and stay in their own Country, the Company would be continually oblig’d to employ fresh Men, of which (besides that they are not so fit for their Business) hardly one in two ever lives in some Places of the East-Indies, which would often prove a great Charge as well as Disappointment to them. The second is, that the large Sums so often distributed among those Sailors, are by this means made immediately to circulate throughout the Country, from whence, by heavy Excisesa and other Impositions, the greatest Part of it is soon drawn back into the publick Treasure.

  [210]To convince the Champions for National Frugality by another Argument, that what they urge is impracticable, we’ll suppose that I am mistaken in every thing which in Remark (L.) I have said in behalf of Luxury, and the necessity of it to maintain Trade: after that let us examine what a general Frugality, if it was by Art and Management to be forc’d upon People whether they have Occasion for it or not, would produce in suchb a Nation as ours. We’ll grant then that all the People in Great Britain shall consume but four Fifths of what they do now, and so lay byc one Fifth part of their Income: I shall not speak of what Influence this would have upon almost every Trade, as well as the Farmer, the Grazier and the Landlord, but favourably suppose (what is yet impossible) thata the same Work shall be done, and consequently the same Handicrafts be employ’d as there are now. The Consequence would be, that unless Money should all at once fall prodigiously in Value, and every thing else, contrary to Reason, grow very dear, at the five Years end all the working People, and the poorest of Labourers, (for I won’t meddle with any of the rest) wouldb be worth in ready Cash as much as they now spend in a whole Year; which, by the by, would be more Money than ever the Nation had at once.

  Let us now, overjoy’d with this increase of Wealth, take a View of the Condition the [211]working People would be in, and reasoning from Experience, and what we daily observe of them, judge what their Behaviour would be in such a Case. Every Body knows that there is a vast number of Journey-men Weavers, Tailors, Clothworkers, and twenty other Handicrafts; who, if by four Days Labour in a Week they can maintain themselves, will hardly be persuaded to work the fifth; and that there are Thousands of labouring Men of all sorts, who will, tho’ they can hardly subsist, put themselves to fifty Inconveniences, disoblige their Masters, pinch their Bellies, and run in Debt, to make Holidays. When Men shew such an extraordinary proclivity to Idleness and Pleasure, what reason have we to think that they would ever work, unless they were oblig’d to it by immediate Necessity?1 When we see an Artificer that cannot be drove to his Work before Tuesday, because the Monday Morning he has two Shillings left of his last Week’s Pay; why should we imagine he would go to it at all, if he had fifteen or twenty Pounds in his Pocket?

  What would, at this rate, become of our Manufactures? If the Merchant would send Cloth Abroad, he must make it himself, for the Clothier cannot get one Man out of twelve that used to work for him. If what I speak of was only to befal the Journeymen Shoemakers, and no body else, in less than a Twelve-month half of us would go barefoot. The chief and [212]most pressing use there is for Money in a Nation, is to pay the Labour of the Poor, and when there is a real Scarcity of it, those who have a great many Workmen to pay, will always feel it first; yet notwithstanding this great Necessity of Coin, it wou!d be easier, where Property was well secured, to live without Money than without Poor; for who would do the Work? For this Reason the quantity of circulating Coin in a Country ought always to be proportion’d to the number of Hands that are employ’d; and the Wages of Labourers to the Price of Provisions.a From whence it is demonstrable, that whateverb procures Plenty makes Labourersc cheap, where the Poor are well managed; who as they ought to be kept from starving, so they should receive nothing worth saving. If here and there one of the lowest Class by uncommon Industry, and pinching his Belly, lifts himself above the Condition he was brought up in, no body ought to hinder him; Nay it is undeniably the wisest course for every Person in the Society, and for every private Family to be frugal; but it is the Interest of all rich Nations, that the greatest part of the Poor should almost never be idle, and yet continually spend what they get.

  All Men, as Sir William Temple observes very well,1 are more prone to Ease and Pleasure than they are to Labour, when they are not prompted to ita by Pride or Avarice, and those [213]that get their Living by their daily Labour, are seldom powerfullyb influenc’d by either: So that they have nothing to stir them up to be serviceable but their Wants, which it is Prudence to relieve, but Folly to cure. The only thing then that can render the labouringc Man industrious, is a moderate quantity of Money; for as too little will, according as his Temper is, either dispirit or make him Desperate, so too much will make him Insolent and Lazy.

  A Man would be laugh’d at by most People, who should maintain that too much Money could undo a Nation. Yet this has been the Fate of Spain;2 to this the learned Don Diego Savedra ascribes the Ruin of his Country.3 The Fruits of the Earth in former Ages had made Spain so rich, that King Lewis XI. of France being come to the Court of Toledo,1 was astonish’d at its Splendour, and said, that he had never seen any thing to be compar’d to it, either in Europe or Asia; he that in his Travels to the Holy-Land had run through every Province of them. In the Kingdom of Castille alone, (if we may believe some Writers) therea were for the Holy War from all Parts of the World got together one hundred thousand Foot, ten thousand Horse, and sixty thousand Carriages for Baggage, which Alonso III.2 maintain’d at his own Charge, and paid every Day as well Soldiers as Officers and Princes, every one according to his Rank and Dignity: Nay, down to the Reign of Fer-[214]dinand and Isabella, (who equipp’d Columbus) and some time after, Spain was a fertile Country, where Trade and Manufactures flourished, and had a knowing industrious People to boast of. But as soon as that mighty Treasure, that was obtain’d with more Hazard and Cruelty than the World ’till then had known, and which to come at, by the Spaniard’s own Confession,3 had cost the Lives of twenty Millions of Indians; as soon, I say, as that Ocean of Treasure came rolling in upon them, it took away their Senses, and their Industry forsook them. The Farmer left his Plough, the Mechanick his Tools, the Merchant his Compting-house, and every body scorning to work, took his Pleasure and turn’d Gentleman. They thought they had reason to value themselves above all their Neighbours, and now nothing but the Conquest of the World would serve them.1

  The Consequence of this has been, that other Nations have supply’d what their own Sloth and Pride deny’d them; and when every body saw, that notwithstanding all the Prohibitions the Government could make against the Exportation of Bullion, the Spaniard would part with his Money, and bring it you aboard himself at the hazard of his Neck, all the World endeavoured to work for Spain. Gold and Silver being by this Means yearly divided and shared among all the trading Countries, have made all Things dear, and most Nations of [215]Europe industrious, except their Owners, who ever since their mighty Acquisitions, sit with their Arms across, and wait every Year with impatience and anxiety, the arrival of their Revenues from Abroad, to pay others for what they have spent already: and thus by too much Money, the making of Colonies and other Mismanagements, of which it was the occasion, Spain is from a fruitful and well-peopled Country, with all its mighty Titles and Possessions, made a barren and empty Thoroughfare, thro’ which Gold and Silver pass from America to the rest of the World; and the Nation, from a rich, acute, diligent and laborious, become a slow, idle, proud and beggarly People; so much for Spain. The next Country where Money may be called the Product is Portugal, and the Figure which that Kingdom with all its Gold makes in Europe, I think is not much to be envied.

  The great Art then to make a Nation happy and what we call flourishing, consists in giving every Body an Opportunity of being employ’d; which to compass, let a Government’s first care be to promote as great a variety of Manufactures, Arts, and Handicrafts, as Human Wit can invent; and the second to encourage Agriculture and Fishery in all their Branches, that the whole Earth may be forc’d to exert it self as well as Man; for as the one is an infallible Maxim to draw vast Multitudes of People into [216]a Nation, so the other is the only Method to maintain them.

  It is from this Policy, and not the trifling Regulations of Lavishness and Frugality, (which will ever take their own Course, according to the Circumstances of the People) that the Greatness and Felicity of Nations must be expected; for let the Value of Gold and Silver either rise or fall, the Enjoyment of all Societies will ever depend upon the Fruits of the Earth, and the Labour of the People;1 both which joined together are a more certain, a more inexhaustible, and a more real Treasure, than the Gold of Brazil, or the Silver of Potosi.1

  (R.)a No Honour now, &c: Page 17. Line 17.

  HOnour in its Figurative Sense is a Chimera without Truth or Being, an Invention of Moralists and Politicians, and signifies a certain Principle of Virtue2 not related to Religion, found in some Men that keeps ’em close to their Duty and Engagements whatever they be; as for Example, a Man of Honour enters into a Conspiracy with others to murder a King; he is obliged to go thorough Stitch [217]with it; and if overcome by Remorse or Good-nature he startles at the Enormity of his Purpose, discovers the Plot, and turns a Witness against his Accomplices, he then forfeits his Honour, at least among the Party he belonged to. The Excellency of this Principle is, that the Vulgar are destitute of it, and it is only to be met with in People of the better sort, as some Oranges have Kernels, and others not, tho’ the out-side be the same. In great Families it is like the Gout, generally counted Hereditary, and all Lords Children are born with it. In some that never felt any thing of it, it is acquired by Conversation and Reading, (especially of Romances) in others by Preferment; but there is nothing that encourages the Growth of it more than a Sword, and upon the first wearing of one, some People have felt considerable Shoots of it in four and twenty Hours.

  The chief and most important Care a Man of Honour ought to have, is the Preservation of this Principle, and rather than forfeit it, he must lose his Employments and Estate, nay, Life it self; for which reason, whatever Humility he may shew by way of Good-breeding, he is allow’d to put an inestimable Value upon himself, as a Possessor of this invisible Ornament. The only Method to preserve this Principle, is to live up to the Rules of Honour, which are Laws he is to walk by: Himself is oblig’d always to be faithful to his Trust, to [218]prefer the publick interest to his own, not to tell lies, nor defraud or wrong any Body, and from others to suffer no Affront, which is a Term of Art for every Action designedly done to undervalue him.

  The Men of ancient Honour, of which I reckon Don Quixote to have been the last upon Record, were very nice Observers of all these Laws, and a great many more than I have named; but the Moderns seem to be more remiss; they have a profound Veneration for the last of ’em, but they pay not an equal Obedience to any of the other, and whoever will but strictly comply with that I hint at, shall have abundance of Trespasses against all the rest conniv’d at.

  A Man of Honour is always counted impartial, and a Man of Sense of course; for no body ever heard of a Man of Honour that was a Fool: for this Reason, he has nothing to do with the Law, and is always allow’d to be a Judge in his own Case; and if the least Injury be done either to himself or his Friend, his Relation, his Servant, his Dog, or any Thing which he is pleased to take under his Honourable Protection, Satisfaction must be forthwith demanded; and if it proves an Affront, and he that gave it likewise a Man of Honour, a Battle must ensue. From all this it is evident, that a Man of Honour must be possessed of Courage, and that without it his [219]other Principle would be no more than a Sword without a Point. Let us therefore examine what Courage consists in, and whether it be, as most People will have it, a real Something that valiant Men have in their Nature distinct from all their other Qualities or not.

  There is nothing so universally sincere upon Earth, as the Love which all Creatures, that are capable of any, bear to themselves; and as there is no Love but what implies a Care to preserve the thing beloved, so there is nothing more sincere in any Creature than his Will, Wishes, and Endeavours to preserve himself. This is the Law of Nature, by which no Creature is endued with any Appetite or Passion but what either directly or indirectly tends to the Preservation either of himself or his Species.

  The Means by which Nature obliges every Creature continually to stir in this Business of Self-Preservation, are grafted in him, and (in Man) call’d Desires, which either compel him to crave what he thinks will sustain or please him, or command him to avoid what he imagines might displease, hurt or destroy him. These Desires or Passions have all their different Symptoms by which they manifest themselves to those they disturb, and from that Variety of Disturbances they make within us, their various Denominations have been given them, as has been shewn already in Pride and Shame.

  [220]The Passion that is rais’d in us when we apprehend that Mischief is approaching us, is call’d Fear: The Disturbance it makes within us is always more or less violent in proportion, not of the Danger, but our Apprehension of the Mischief dreaded, whether real or imaginary. Our Fear then being always proportion’d to the Apprehension we have of the Danger, it follows, that while that Apprehension lasts, a Man can no more shake off his Fear than he can a Leg or an Arm. In a Fright it is true, the Apprehension of Danger is so sudden, and attacks us so lively, (as sometimes to take away Reason and Senses) that when ’tis over we often don’t remember that we had any Apprehension at all; but from the Event, ’tis plain we had it, for how could we have been frighten’d if we had not apprehended that some Evil or other was coming upon us?

  Most People are of Opinion, that this Apprehension is to be conquer’d by Reason, but I confess I am not: Those that have been frighten’d will tell you, that as soon as they could recollect themselves, that is, make use of their Reason, their Apprehension was conquer’d. But this is no Conquest at all, for in a Fright the Danger was either altogether imaginary, or else it is past by that time they can make use of their Reason; and therefore if they find there is no Danger, it is no wonder that they should not apprehend any: But when the Dan-[221]ger is permanent, let them then make use of their Reason, and they’ll find that it may serve them to examine the Greatness and Reality of the Danger, and that if they find it less than they imagin’d, thea Apprehension will be lessen’d accordingly; but if the Danger proves real, and the same in every Circumstance as they took it to be at first, then their Reason instead of diminishing will rather increase their Apprehension.1 While this Fear lasts, no Creature can fight offensively; and yet we see Brutes daily fight obstinately, and worry one another to Death; so that some other Passion must be able to overcome this Fear, and the most contrary to it is Anger: which to trace to the bottom I must beg leave to make another Digression.

  No Creature can subsist without Food, nor any Species of them (I speak of the more perfect Animals) continue long unless young ones are continually born as fast as the old ones die. Therefore the first and fiercest Appetite that Nature has given them is Hunger, the next is Lust; the one prompting them to procreate, as the other bids them eat. Now, if we observe that Anger is that Passion which is rais’d in us when we are cross’d or disturb’d in our Desires, and that as it sums up all the Strength in Creatures, so it was given them that by it they might exert themselves more vigorously in endeavouring to remove, overcome, or destroy [222]whatever obstructs them in the Pursuit of Self-Preservation; we shall find that Brutes, unless themselves or what they love, or the Liberty of either are threaten’d or attack’d, have nothing worth Notice that can move them to Anger but Hunger or Lust. ’Tis they that make them more fierce, for we must observe, that the Appetites of Creatures are as actually cross’d, while they want and cannot meet with what they desire (tho’ perhaps with less Violence) as when hinder’d from enjoying what they have in view. What I have said will appear more plainly, if we but mind what no body can be ignorant of, which is this: All Creatures upon Earth live either upon the Fruits and Product of it, or else the Flesh of other Animals, their Fellow-Creatures. The latter, which we call Beasts of Prey, Nature has arm’d accordingly, and given them Weapons and Strength to overcome and tear asunder those whom she has design’d for their Food, and likewise a much keener Appetite than to other Animals that live upon Herbs, &c. For as to the first, if a Cow lov’d Mutton as well as she does Grass, being made as she is, and having no Claws or Talons, and but one Row of Teeth before, that are all of an equal length, she would be starv’d even among a Flock of Sheep. Secondly, As to their Voraciousness, if Experience did not teach it us, our Reason might: In the first place, It is highly probable that the Hunger which can make a [223]Creature fatigue, harass and expose himself to Danger for every Bit he eats, is more piercing than that which only bids him eat what stands before him, and which he may have for stooping down. In the second, It is to be considered, that as Beasts of Prey have an Instinct by which they learn to crave, trace, and discover those Creatures that are good Food for them; so the others have likewise an Instinct that teaches them to shun, conceal themselves, and run away from those that hunt after them: From hence it must follow, that Beasts of Prey, tho’ they could almost eat for ever, go yet more often with empty Bellies than other Creatures, whose Victuals neither fly from nor oppose them. This must perpetuate as well as increase their Hunger, which hereby becomes a constant Fuel to their Anger.

  If you ask me what stirs up this Anger in Bulls and Cocks that will fight to Death, and yet are neither Animals of Prey nor very voracious, I answer, Lust. Those Creatures, whose Rage proceeds from Hunger, both Male and Female, attack every thing they can master, and fight obstinately against all: But the Animals, whose Fury is provok’d by a Venereal Ferment, being generally Males, exert themselves chiefly against other Males of the same Species. They may do Mischief by chance to other Creatures; but the main Objects of their Hatred are their Rivals, and it is against them only that their [224]Prowess and Fortitude are shewn. We see likewise in all those Creatures of which the Male is able to satisfy a great Number of Females, a more considerable Superiority in the Male express’d by Nature in his Make and Features as well as Fierceness, than is observ’d in other Creatures, where the Male is contented with one or two Females. Dogs, tho’ become Domestick Animals, are ravenous to a Proverb, and those of them that will fight being Carnivorous, would soon become Beasts of Prey, if not fed by us; what we may observe in them is an ample Proof of what I have hitherto advanced. Those of a true fighting Breed, being voracious Creatures, both Male and Female, will fasten upon any thing, and suffer themselves to be kill’d before they give over. As the Female is rather more salacious than the Male; so there is no Difference in their Make at all, what distinguishes the Sexes excepted, and the Female is rather the fiercest of the two. A Bull is a terrible Creature when he is kept up, but where he has twenty or more Cows to range among, in a little time he’ll become as tame as any of them, and a dozen Hens will spoil the best Game Cock in England. Harts and Deer are counted chaste and timorous Creatures, and so indeed they are almost all the Year long, except in Rutting Time, and then on a sudden they become bold to Admiration, and often make at the Keepers themselves.

  [225]That the Influence of those two principal Appetites, Hunger and Lust, upon the Temper of Animals, is not so whimsical as some may imagine, may be partly demonstrated from what is observable in our selves; for though our Hunger is infinitely less violent than that of Wolves and other ravenous Creatures, yet we see that People who are in Health and have a tolerable Stomach, are more fretful, and sooner put out of Humour for Trifles when they stay for their Victuals beyond their usual Hours, than at any other time. And again, tho’ Lust in Man is not so raging as it is in Bulls and other salacious Creatures, yet nothing provokes Men and Women both sooner and more violently to Anger, than what crosses their Amours, when they are heartily in Love; and the most fearful and tenderly educated of either Sex, have slighted the greatest Dangers, and set aside all other Considerations to compass the Destruction of a Rival.

  Hitherto I have endeavour’d to demonstrate, that no Creature can fight offensively as long as his Fear lasts; that Fear cannot be conquer’d but by another Passion; that the most contrary to it, and most effectual to overcome it is Anger; that the two principal Appetites which disappointed can stir up this last-named Passion are Hunger and Lust, and that in all Brute Beasts the Proneness to Anger and Obstinacy in fighting generally depend upon the Violence of either or both those Appetites together: [226]From whence it must follow, that what we call Prowess or natural Courage in Creatures, is nothing but the Effect of Anger,1 and that all fierce Animals must be either very Ravenous or very Lustful, if not both.

  Let us now examine what by this Rule we ought to judge of our own Species. From the Tenderness of Man’s Skin, and the great care that is required for Years together to rear him; from the Make of his Jaws, the Evenness of his Teeth, the Breadth of his Nails, and the Slightness of both, it is not probable that Nature should have design’d him for Rapine; for this Reason his Hunger is not voracious as it is in Beasts of Prey; neither is he so salacious as other Animals that are call’d so, and being besides very industrious to supply his Wants, he can have no reigning Appetite to perpetuate his Anger, and must consequently be a timorous Animal.

  What I have said last must only be understood of Man in his Savage State; for if we examine him as a Member of a Society and a taught Animal, we shall find him quite another Creature: As soon as his Pride has room to play, and Envy, Avarice and Ambition begin to catch hold of him, he is rous’d from his natural Innocence and Stupidity. As his Knowledge increases, his Desires are enlarg’d, and consequently his Wants and Appetites are multiply’d: Hence it must follow, that he will be often cross’d in the Pursuit of them, [227]and meet with abundance more disappointment to stir up his Anger in this than his former Condition, and Man would in a little time become the most hurtful and noxiousa Creature in the World, if let alone, whenever he could over-power his Adversary, if he had no Mischief to fear but from the Person that anger’d him.

  The first Care therefore of all Governments is by severe Punishments to curb his Anger when it does hurt, and so by increasing his Fears prevent the Mischief it might produce. When various Laws to restrain him from using Force are strictly executed, Self-Preservation must teach him to be peaceable; and as it is every body’s Business to be as little disturb’d as is possible, his Fears will be continually augmented and enlarg’d as he advances in Experience, Understanding and Foresight. The Consequence of this must be, that as the Provocations he will receive to Anger will be infinite in the civiliz’d State, so his Fears to damp it will be the same, and thus in a little time he’ll be taught byb his Fears to destroy his Anger, and by Art to consult in an opposite Methodc the same Self-Preservation for which Nature before had furnished him with Anger, as well as the rest of his Passions.

  The only useful Passion then that Man is possess’d of toward the Peace and Quiet of a Society, is his Fear, and the more you work [228]upon it the more orderly and governable he’ll be; for how useful soever Anger may be to Man, as he is a single Creature by himself, yet the Society has no manner of occasion for it: But Nature being always the same, in the Formation of Animals, produces all Creatures as like to those that beget and bear them as the Place she forms them in, and the various Influences from without, will give her leave, and consequently all Men, whether they are born in Courts or Forests, are susceptible of Anger. When this Passion overcomes (as among all degrees of People it sometimes does) the whole Set of Fears Man has, he has true Courage,1 and will fight as boldly as a Lion or a Tiger, and at no other time; and I shall endeavour to prove, that whatever is call’d Courage in Man, when he is not Angry, is spurious and artificial.

  It is possible by good Government to keep a Society always quiet in it self, but no body can insure Peace from without for ever. The Society may have occasion to extend their Limits further, and enlarge their Territories, or others may invade theirs, or something else will happen that Man must be brought to fight; for how civiliz’d soever Men maya be, they never forget that Force goes beyond Reason: The Politician now must alter his Measures, and take off some of Man’s Fears; he must strive to persuade him, that all what was told him before of the Barbarity of kil-[229]ling Men ceases as soon as these Men are Enemies to the Publick, and that their Adversaries are neither so good nor so strong as themselves. These things well manag’d will seldom fail of drawing the hardiest, the most quarrelsome, and the most mischievous in to Combat; but unless they are better qualify’d, I won’t answer for their Behaviour there: If once you can make them undervalue their Enemies, you may soon stir them up to Anger, and while that lasts they’ll fight with greater Obstinacy than any disciplin’d Troops: But if any thing happens that was unforeseen, and a sudden great Noise, a Tempest, or any strange or uncommon Accident that seems to threaten ’em, intervenes, Fear seizes ’em, disarms their Anger, and makes ’em run away to a Man.

  This natural Courage therefore, as soon as People begin to have more Wit, must be soon exploded. In the first place those that have felt the Smart of the Enemy’s Blows, won’t always believe what is said to undervalue him, and are often not easily provok’d to Anger. Secondly, Anger consisting in an Ebullition of the Spirits is a Passion of no long continuance (ira furor brevis est1 ) and the Enemies, if they withstand the first Shock of these Angry People, have commonly the better of it. Thirdly, as long as People are Angry, all Counsel and Discipline are lost upon them, and they can never be brought to [230]use Art or Conduct in their Battles. Anger then, without which no Creature has natural Courage, being altogether useless in a War to be manag’d by Stratagem, and brought into a regular Art, the Government must find out an Equivalent for Courage that will make Men fight.

  Whoever woulda civilize Men, and establish them intob a Body Politick, must be thoroughly acquainted with all the Passions and Appetites, Strength and Weaknesses of their Frame, and understand how to turn their greatest Frailties to the Advantage of the Publick. In the Enquiry into the Origin of Moral Virtue, I have shewn how easily Men were induc’d to believe any thing that is said in their Praise. If therefore a Law-giver or Politician, whomc they have a great Veneration for, should tell them, that the generality of Men had within them a Principle of Valour distinct from Anger, or any other Passion, that made them to despise Danger and face Death it self with Intrepedity, and that they who had the most of it were the most valuable of their kind, it is very likely, considering what has been said, that most of them, tho’ they felt nothing of this Principle, would swallow it for Truth, and that the proudest feeling themselves mov’d at this piece of Flattery, and not well vers’d in distinguishing the Passions, might imagine that they felt it heaving in their Breasts, by mistaking Pride for Cou-[231]rage. If but one in Ten can be persuaded openly to declare, that he is possess’d of this Principle, and maintain it against all Gain-sayers, there will soon be half a dozen that shall assert the same. Whoever has once own’d it is engaged, the Politician has nothing to do but to take all imaginable Care to flatter the Pride of those that brag of, and are willing to stand by it, a thousand different ways: The same Pride that drew him in first will ever after oblige him to defend the Assertion, till at last the fear of discovering the reality of his Heart, comesa to be so great that it out-does the fear of Death it self. Do but increase Man’s Pride, and hisb fear of Shame will ever be proportion’d to it; for the greater Value a Man sets upon himself, the more Pains he’ll take and the greater Hardships he’ll undergo to avoid Shame.

  The great Art then to make Man Courageous, is first to make him own this Principle of Valour within, and afterwards to inspire him with as much Horror against Shame, as Nature has given him against Death; and that there are things to which Man has, or may have, a stronger Aversion than he has to Death, is evident from Suicide.1 He that makes Death his choice, must look upon it as less terrible than what he shuns by it; for whether the Evil dreaded be present or to come, real or imaginary, no body would kill himself wilfully but to avoid something. Lucretia held out bravely [232]against all the Attacks of the Ravisher, even when he threatened her Life; which shews that she valu’d her Virtue beyond it: But when he threaten’d her Reputation with eternal Infamy, she fairly surrender’d, and then slew herself; a certain sign that she valued her Virtue less than her Glory, and her Life less than either. The fear of Death did not make her yield, for she resolv’d to die before she did it, and her Compliance must only be consider’d as a Bribe to make Tarquin forbear sullying her Reputation; so that Life had neither the first nor second place in the Esteem of Lucretia.1 The Courage then which is only useful to the Body Politick, and what is generally call’d true Valour, is artificial, and consists in a Superlative Horror against Shame, by Flattery infused into Men of exalted Pride.2

  As soon as the Notions of Honour and Shame are received among a Society, it is not difficult to make Men fight. First, take care they are persuaded of the Justice of their Cause; for no Man fights heartily that thinks himself in the wrong;3 then shew them that their Altars, their Possessions, Wives, Children, and every thing that is near and dear to them, is concerned in the present Quarrel, or at least may be influenced by it hereafter; then put Feathers in their Caps, and distinguish them from others, talk of Publick-Spiritedness, the Love of their Country, facing an Enemy with Intrepidity, [233]despising Death,a the Bed of Honour, and such like high-sounding Words, and every Proud Man will take up Arms and fight himself to Death before he’ll turn Tail, if it be by Daylight. One Man in an Army is a check upon another, and a hundred of them that single and without witness would be all Cowards, are for fear of incurring one another’s Contempt made Valiant by being together. To continue and heighten this artificial Courage, all that run away ought to be punish’d with Ignominy; those that fought well, whether they did beat or were beaten, must be flatter’d and solemnly commended; those that lost their Limbs rewarded, and those that were kill’d ought, above all, to be taken notice of, artfully lamented, and to have extraordinary Encomiums bestowed upon them; for to pay Honours to the Dead, will ever be a sure Method to make Bubbles of the Living.

  When I say that the Courage made use of in the Wars is artificial, I don’t imagine that by the same Art all Men may be made equally Valiant: as Men have not an equal share of Pride, and differ from one another in Shape and inward Structure, it is impossible they should be all equally fit for the same uses. Some Men will never be able to learn Musick, and yet make good Mathematicians; others will play excellently well upon the Violin, and yet be Coxcombs as long as they live, let them converse [234]with whom they please. But to shew that therea is no Evasion, I shall prove, that, setting aside what I said of artificial Courage already, what the greatest Heroe differs in from the rankest Coward, is altogether Corporeal, and depends upon the inward make of Man. What I mean is call’d Constitution; by which is understood the orderly or disorderly mixture of the Fluids in ourb Body: That Constitution which favours Courage, consists in the natural Strength, Elasticity, and due Contexture of the finer Spirits, and upon them wholly depends what we call Stedfastness, Resolution and Obstinacy. It is the only Ingredient that is common to natural and artificial Bravery, and is to either what Size is to white Walls, which hinders them from coming off, and makes them lasting. That some People are very much, others very little frighten’d at things that are strange and sudden to them, is likewise altogether owing to the firmness or imbecillity in the Tone of the Spirits. Pride is of no Use in a Fright, because while it lasts we can’t think, which, being counted a Disgrace, is the reason People are always angry with any thing that frightens them, as soon as the surprize is over; and when at the turn of a Battle the Conquerors give no Quarter, and are very cruel, it is a sign their Enemies fought well, and had put them first into great Fears.

  [235]That Resolution depends upon this Tone of the Spirits, appears likewise from the effects of strong Liquors, the fiery Particles whereof crowding into the Brain, strengthen the Spirits; their Operation imitates that of Anger, which I said before was an Ebullition of the Spirits. It is for this reason that most People when they are in Drink, are sooner touch’d and more prone to Anger than at other times, and some raving Mad without any Provocation at all. It is likewise observ’d, that Brandy makes Men more Quarrelsome at the same pitch of Drunkenness than Wine; because the Spirits of distill’d Waters have abundance of fiery Particles mixt with them, which the other has not. The Contexture of Spirits is so weak in some, that tho’ they have Pride enough, no Art can ever make them fight, or overcome their Fears; but this is a Defect in the Principle of the Fluids, as other Deformities are faults of the Solids.1’ These pusillanimous People are never thoroughly provok’d to Anger, where there is any Danger, and drinking ever makes ’em bolder, but seldom so resolute as to attack any, unless they be Women or Children, or such who they know dare not resist. This Constitution is often influenced by Health and Sickness, and impair’d by great Losses of Blood; sometimes it is corrected by Diet; and it is this which the Duke de la Rochefocault means when he says; Vanity, Shame, and above all Consti-[236]tution, make up very often the Courage of Men and Virtue of Women.1

  There is nothing that more improves the useful Martial Courage I treat of, and at the same time shews it to be artificial, than Practice; for when Men are disciplin’d, come to be acquainted with all the Tools of Death and Engines of Destruction, whena the Shouts, the Outcries, the Fire and Smoke, the Grones of Wounded, and ghostlyb looks of dying Men, with all the various Scenes of mangled Carcases andc bloody Limbs tore off, begin to be familiar to them, their Fears abate apace; not that they are now less afraid to die than before, but being used so often to see the same Dangers, they apprehend the reality of them less than they did: As they are deservedly valued for every Siege they are at, and every Battle they are in, it is impossible but the several Actions they share in must continually become as many solid Steps by which their Pride mounts up, and thus their Fear of Shame, which as I said before, will always be proportion’d to their Pride, increasing as the Apprehension of the Danger decreases, it is no wonder that most of them learn to discover little or no Fear: and some great Generals are able to preserve a Presence of Mind, and counterfeit a calm Serenity within the midst of all the Noise, Horror and Confusion that attend a Battle.

  [237]So silly a Creature is Man, as that, intoxicated with the Fumes of Vanity, he can feast on the thoughts of the Praises that shall be paid his Memory in future Ages with so much ecstasy, as to neglect his present Life, nay, court and covet Death, if he but imagines that it will add to the Glory he had acquired before. There is no pitch of Self-denial that a Man of Pride and Constitution cannot reach, nor any Passion so violent but he’ll sacrifice it to another which is superior to it; and here I cannota but admire at the Simplicity of some good Men, who when they hear of the Joy and Alacrity with which holy Men in Persecutions have suffer’d for their Faith, imagine that such Constancy must exceed all human Force, unless it was supported by some miraculous Assistance from Heaven. As most People are unwilling to acknowledge all the Frailties of their Species, so they are unacquainted with the Strength of our Nature, and know not that some Men of firm Constitution may work themselves up into Enthusiasm1 by no other help than the Violence of their Passions; yet it is certain, that there have been Men who only assisted with Pride and Constitution to maintain the worst of Causes, have undergone Death and Torments with as much Chearfulness as the best of Men, animated with Piety and Devotion, ever did for the true Religion.

  [238]To prove this Assertion, I could produce many Instances; but one or two will be sufficient. Jordanus Bruno of Nola, who wrote that sillyb piece of Blasphemy call’d Spaccio della Bestia triumphante,2 and the infamous Vanini,3 were both executed for openly professing and teaching of Atheism: The latter might have been pardon’d the Moment before the Execution, if he would have retracted his Doctrine; but rather than recant, he chose to be burnt to Ashes. As he went to the Stake, he was so far from shewing any Concern, that he held his hand out to a Physician whom he happen’d to know, desiring him to judge of the Calmness of his Mind by the Regularity of his Pulse, and from thence taking an opportunity of making an impious Comparison, uttered a Sentence too execrable to be mention’d.1 To these we may join one Mahomet Effendi, who, as Sir Paul Ricaut tells us, was put to Death at Constantinople, for having advanc’d some Notions against the Existence of a God. He likewise might have sav’d his Life by confessing his Error, and renouncing it for the future; but chose rather to persist in his Blasphemies, saying, Tho’ he had no Reward to expect, the Love of Truth constrain’d him to suffer Martyrdom in its defence.2

  I have made this Digression chiefly to shew the Strength of human Nature, and what meer Man may perform by Pride and Constitution alone. Man may certainly be as violently [239]rous’d by his Vanity, as a Lion is by his Anger; and not only this, Avarice, Revenge, Ambition, and almost every Passion, Pity not excepted, when they are extraordinary, may by overcoming Fear, serve him instead of Valour, and be mistaken for it even by himself;a as daily Experience must teach every Body that will examine and look into the Motives from which some Men act. But that we may more clearly perceive what this pretended Principle is really built upon, let us look into the Management of Military Affairs, and we shall find that Pride is no where so openly encouraged as there. As for Clothes, the very lowest of the Commission Officers have them richer, or at least more gay and splendid, than are generally wore by other People of four or five times their Income. Most of them, and especially those that have Families, and can hardly subsist, would be very glad, all Europe over, to be less Expensive that way; but it is a Force put upon them to uphold their Pride, which they don’t think on.

  But the ways and means to rouse Man’s Pride, and catch him by it, are no where more grosly conspicuous than in the Treatment which the Common Soldiers receive, whose Vanity is to be work’d upon (because there must be so many) at the cheapest rate imaginable. Things we are accustom’d to we don’t mind, or else what Mortal that never had seen a Soldier could look without laughing upon a Man accoutred with [240]so much paltry Gaudiness and affected Fineryb ? The coarsest Manufacture that can be made of Wool, dy’d of a Brick-dust Colour, goes down with him, because it is ina Imitation of Scarlet or Crimson Cloth; and to make him think himself as like his Officer as ’tis possible with little or no Cost, instead of Silver or Gold Lace, his Hat is trim’d with white or yellow Worsted, which in others would deserve Bedlamb ; yet these fine Allurements, and the Noise made upon a Calf’s Skin, have drawn in and been the Destruction of more Men in reality, than all the killing Eyes and bewitching Voices of Women ever slew in Jest. To Day the Swineherd puts on his Red Coat, and believes every body in earnest that calls him Gentleman, and two Days after Serjeant Kite1 gives him a swinging wrap with his Cane, for holding his Musket an Inch higher than he should do. As to the real Dignity of the Employment, in the two last Wars, Officers, when Recruits were wanted, were allow’d to list Fellows convicted of Burglary and other Capital Crimes, which shews that to be made a Soldier is deem’d to be a Preferment next to hanging. A Trooper is yet worse than a Foot-Soldier; for when he is most at ease, he has the Mortification of being Groom to a Horse that spends more Money than himself. When a Man reflects on all this, the Usage they generally receive from their Officers, their Pay, and [241]thec Care that is taken of them, when they are not wanted, must he not wonder how Wretches can be so silly as to be proud of being call’d Gentlemen Soldiers? Yet if theyd were not, no Art, Discipline or Money would be capable of making them so Brave as Thousands of them are.

  If we will mind what Effects Man’s Bravery, without any other Qualifications to sweeten him, would have out of an Army, we shall find that it would be very pernicious to the Civil Society; for if Man could conquer all his Fears, you would hear of nothing but Rapes, Murthers and Violences of all sorts, and Valiant Men would be like Giants in Romances: Politicks therefore discovered in Men a mixt-mettle Principle, which was a Compound of Justice, Honesty and all the Moral Virtues join’d to Courage, and all that were possess’d of it turned Knights-Errant of course. They did abundance of Good throughout the World, by taming Monsters, delivering the Distress’d, and killing the Oppressors: But the Wings of all the Dragons being clipt, the Giants destroyed, and the Damsels every where set at liberty, except some few in Spain and Italy, who remain’d still captivated by their Monsters, the Order of Chivalry, to whom the Standard of Ancient Honour belonged, has been laid aside some time.1 It was like their Armours very massy and heavy; the many Virtues a-[242]bout it made it very troublesome, and as Ages grewa wiser and wiser, the Principle of Honour in the beginning of the last Century wad melted over again, and brought to a new Standard; they put in the same Weight of Courage, half the Quantity of Honesty, and a very little Justice, but not a Scrap of any other Virtue, which has made it very easy and portable to what it was. However, such as it isb , there would be no living without itc in a large Nation; it is the tye of Society, and though we are beholdend to our Frailties for the chief Ingredient of it, there is no Virtue, at least that I am acquainted with, that has been half so instrumental to the civilizing of Mankind, whoa in great Societies would soon degenerate into cruel Villains and treacherous Slaves, were Honour to be removed from among them.

  As to the Duelling Part which belongs to it, I pity the Unfortunate whose Lot it is; but to say, that those who are guilty of it go by false Rules, or mistake the Notions of Honour, is ridiculous; for either there is no Honour at all, or it teaches Men to resent Injuries, and accept of Challenges. You may as well deny that it is the Fashion what you see every body wear, as to say that demanding and giving Satisfaction is against the Laws of true Honour. Those that rail at Duelling don’t consider the Benefit the Society receives from that Fashion: If every ill-bred Fellow might [243]use what Language he pleas’d, without being called to an Account for it, all Conversation would be spoil’d. Some grave People tell us, that the Greeks and Romans were such valiant Men, and yet knew nothing of Duelling but in their Country’s Quarrel: This is very true, but for that Reason the Kings and Princes in Homer gave one another worse Language than our Porters and Hackney Coachmen would be able to bear without Resentment.

  Would you hinder Duelling, pardon no body that offends that way, and make the Laws against it as severe as you can, but don’t take away the thing it self, the Custom of it. This will not only prevent the Frequency of it, but likewise by rendring the most resolute and most powerful cautious and circumspect in their Behaviour, polish and brighten Society in general. Nothing civilizes a Man equally as his Fear, and if not all, (as my Lord Rochester said) at least most Men would be Cowards if they durst:1 The dread of being called to an Account keeps abundance in awe, and there are thousands of mannerly and well-accomplish’d Gentlemen in Europe, who would have been insolent and insupportable Coxcombs without it; besides if it was out of Fashion to ask Satisfaction for Injuries which the Law cannot take hold of, there would be twenty times the Mischief done there is now, or else you must have twenty times the Con-[244]stables and other Officers to keep the Peace. I confess that though it happens but seldom, it is a Calamity to the People, and generally the Families it falls upon; but there can be no perfect Happiness in this World, and all Felicity has an Allay. The Act it self is uncharitable, but when above thirty in a Nation destroy themselves in one Year, and not half that Number are killed by others, I don’t think the People can be said to love their Neighbours worse than themselves. It is strange that a Nation should grudge to see perhaps half a dozen Men sacrific’d in a Twelvemonth to obtain so valuable a Blessing, as the Politeness of Manners, the Pleasure of Conversation, and the Happiness of Company in general, that is often so willing to expose, and sometimes loses as many thousands in a few Hours, without knowing whether it will do any good or not.

  I would have no body that reflects on the mean Original of Honour complain of being gull’d and made a Property by cunning Politicians, but desire every body to be satisfied, that the Governors of Societies and those in high Stations are greater Bubbles to Pride than any of the rest. If some great Men had not a superlative Pride, and every body understood the Enjoyment of Life, who would be a Lord Chancellor of England, a Prime Minister of State in France, or what gives more Fatigue, and not a sixth part of the Profit of either, a [245]Grand Pensionary of Holland?1 The reciprocal Services which all Men pay to one another, are the Foundation of the Society. The great ones are not flatter’d with their high Birth for nothing: ’tis to rouse their Pride, and excite them to glorious Actions, that we extol their Race, whether it deserves it or not; and some Men have been complimented with the Greatness of their Family, and the Merit of their Ancestors, when in the whole Generation you could not find two but what were uxorious Fools, silly Biggots, noted Poltrons, or debauch’d Whore-masters. The established Pride that is inseparable from those that are possessed of Titles already, makes them often strive as much not to seem unworthy of them, as the working Ambition of others that are yet without, renders them industrious and indefatigable to deserve them. When a Gentleman is made a Baron or an Earl, it is as great a Check upon him in many Respects, as a Gown and Cassock are to a young Student that has been newly taken into Orders.

  The only thing of weight that can be said against modern Honour is, that it is directly opposite to Religion. The one bids you bear Injuries with Patience, the other tells you if you don’t resent them, you are not fit to live. Religion commands you to leave all Revenge to God, Honour bids you trust your Revenge to no body but your self, even where the Law [246]would do it for you: Religion mainly forbids Murther, Honour openly justifies it: Religion bids you not shed Blood upon any Account whatever: Honour bids you fight for the least Trifle: Religion is built on Humility, and Honour upon Pride: How to reconcile them must be left to wiser Heads than mine.1

  The Reason why there are so few Men of real Virtue, and so many of real Honour, is, because all the Recompence a Man has of a virtuous Action, is the Pleasure of doing it, which most People reckon but poor Pay; but the Self-denial a Man of Honour submits to in one Appetite, is immediately rewarded by the Satisfaction he receives from another, and what he abates of his Avarice, or any other Passion, is doubly repaid to his Pride: Besides, Honour gives large Grains of Allowance, and Virtue none. A Man of Honour must not cheat or tell a Lye; he must punctually repay what he borrows at Play, though the Creditor has nothing to shew for it; but he may drink, and swear, and owe Money to all the Tradesmen in Town, without taking notice of their dunning. A Man of Honour must be true to his Prince and Country, while he is in their Service; but if he thinks himself not well used, he may quit it, and do them all the Mischief he can. A Man of Honour must never change his Religion for Interest, but he may be as Debauch’d as he pleases, and never practise [247]any. He must make no Attempts upon his Friend’s Wife, Daughter, Sister, or any body that is trusted to his Care, but he may lie with all the World besides.

  (S.)a No Limner for his Art is fam’d, Stone-cutters, Carvers are not nam’d: Page 19. Line 11.

  IT is, without doubt, that among the Consequences of a National Honesty and Frugality, it would be one not to build any new Houses, or use new Materials as long as there were old ones enough to serve: By this three Parts in four of Masons, Carpenters, Bricklayers, &c. would want Employment; and the building Trade being once destroyed, what would become of Limning, Carving, and other Arts that are ministring to Luxury, and have been carefully forbid by those Lawgivers that preferred a good and honest, to a great and wealthy Society, and endeavoured to render their Subjects rather Virtuous than Rich. By a Law of Lycurgus, it was enacted, That the Cielings of the Spartan Houses should only be wrought by the Ax, and their Gates and Doors only smoothed by the Saw; and this, says Plutarch, was not[248] without Mystery; for if Epaminondas could say with so good a Grace, inviting some of his Friends to his Table; Come, Gentlemen, be secure, Treason would never come to such a poor Dinner as this: Why might not this great Law-giver, in all Probability, have thought, that such ill favour’d Houses would never be capable of receiving Luxury and Superfluity?

  It is reported, as the same Author tells us, that King Leotichidas, the first of that Name, was so little us’d to the sight of carv’d Work, that being entertained at Corinth in a stately Room, he was much surprized to see the Timber and Cieling so finely wrought, anda asked his Host whether the Trees grew so in his Country.1

  The same want of Employment would reach innumerable Callings; and among the rest, that of the b

  • Weaverscthat join’d rich Silkdwith Plate,
  • And all the Trades subordinate,

  (as the Fable has it 2 ) would be one of the first that should have reason to complain; for the Price of Land and Houses being, by the removal of the vast Numbers that had left the Hive, sunk very low on the one side, and every body abhorring all other ways of Gain, but such as were strictly honest on the other, it is [249]not probable that many without Pride or Prodigality should be able to wear Cloth of Gold and Silver, or rich Brocades. The Consequence of which would be, that not only the Weaver, but likewise the Silver-spinner, the Flatter,3 the Wire-drawer, the Barman,4 and the Refiner, would in a little time be affected with this Frugality.

  (T.) a — —— — To live great, Had made her Husband rob the State: Page 20 Line 6.

  WHat our common Rogues when they are going to be hanged chiefly complain of, as the Cause of their untimely End, is, next to the neglect of the Sabbath, their having kept Company with ill Women, meaning Whores; and I don’t question, but that among the lesser Villains many venture their Necks to indulge and satisfy their low Amours. But the Words that have given Occasion to this Remark, may serve to hint to us, that among the great ones Men are often put upon such dangerous Projects, and forced into such pernicious Measures by their Wives, as the most subtle Mistress never could have persuaded [250]them to. I have shewn already that the worst of Women and most profligate of the Sex did contribute to the Consumption of Superfluities, as well as the Necessaries of Life, and consequently were Beneficial to many peaceable Drudges, that work hard to maintain their Families, and have no worse design than an honest Livelihood. —Let them be banished notwithstanding, says a good Man: When every Strumpet is gone, and the Land wholly freed from Lewdness, God Almighty will pour such Blessings upon it as will vastly exceed the Profits that are now got by Harlots.—This perhaps would be true; but I can make it evident, that with or without Prostitutes, nothing could make amends for the Detriment Trade would sustain, if all those of that Sex, who enjoy the happy State of Matrimony, should act and behave themselves as a sober wise Man could wish them.

  The variety of Work that is perform’d, and the number of Hands employ’d to gratify the Fickleness and Luxury of Women is prodigious, and if only the married ones should hearken to Reason and just Remonstrances, think themselves sufficiently answer’d with the first refusal, and never ask a second time what had been once denied them: If, I say, Married Women would do this, and then lay out no Money but what their Husbands knew and freely allowed of, the Consumption of a thou-[251]sand things, they now make use of, would be lessened by at least a fourth Part. Let us go from House to House and observe the way of the World only among the middling People, creditable Shop-keepers, that spend Two or Three Hundred a Year, and we shall find thea Women when they have half a Score Suits of Clothes, Two or Three of them not the worse for wearing, will think it a sufficient Plea for new Ones, if they can say that they have never a Gown or Petticoat, but what they have been often seen in, and are known by, especially at Church; I don’t speak now of profuse extravagant Women, but such as are counted Prudent and Moderate in their Desires.

  If by this Pattern we should in Proportion judge of the highest Ranks, where the richest Clothes are but a trifle to their other Expences, and not forget the Furniture of all sorts, Equipages, Jewels, and Buildings of Persons of Quality, we shouldb find the fourth Part I speak of a vast Article in Trade, and that the Loss of it would be a greater Calamity to such a Nation as ours, than it is possible to conceive any other, a raging Pestilence not excepted: for the Death of half a Million of People could not cause a tenth Part of the Disturbance to the Kingdom, that the same Number of Poor unemploy’d would certainly create, if at once they were to [252]be added to those, that already one way or other are a Burthen to the Society.

  Some few Men have a real Passion for their Wives, and are fond of them without reserve; others that don’t care, and have little Occasion for Women, are yet seemingly uxorious, and love out of Vanity; they take Delight in a handsome Wife, as a Coxcomb does in a fine Horse, not for the use he makes of it, but because it is His: The Pleasure lies in the consciousness of an uncontrolable Possession, and what follows from it, the Reflexion on the mighty Thoughts he imagines others to have of his Happiness. The Men of either sort may be very lavish to their Wives, and often preventing their Wishes croud New Clothes and other Finery upon them faster than they can ask it, but the greatest part are wiser than to indulge the Extravagances of their Wives so far, as to give them immediately every thing they are pleas’d to fancy.

  It is incredible what vast quantity of Trinkets as well as Apparel are purchas’d and used by Women, which they could never have come at by any other means, than pinching their Families, Marketting, and other ways of cheating and pilfering from their Husbands: Others by ever teazing their Spouses, tire them into Compliance, and conquer even obstinate Churls by perseverance and their assiduity of asking; A Third sort are outrageous at a denial, and [253]by downright Noise and Scolding bully their tame Fools out of any thing they have a mind to; while thousands by the force of Wheedling know how to overcome the best weigh’d Reasons and the most positive reiterated Refusals; the Young and Beautiful especially laugh at all Remonstrances and Denials, and few of them scruple to employ the most tender Minutes of Wedlock to promote a sordid Interest. Here had I time I could inveigh with warmth against those Base, those wicked Women, who calmly play their Arts and false deluding Charms against our Strength and Prudence, and act the Harlots with their Husbands! Nay, she is worse than Whore, who impiously prophanes and prostitutes the Sacred Rites of Love to Vile Ignoble Ends; that first excites to Passion and invites to Joys with seeming Ardour, then racks our Fondness for no other purpose than to extort a Gift, while full of Guile in Counterfeited Transports she watches for the Moment when Men can least deny.

  I beg pardon for this Start out of my way, and desire the experienced Reader duly to weigh what has been said as to the main Purpose, and after that call to mind the temporal Blessings, which Men daily hear not only toasted and wish’d for, when People are merry and doing of nothing; but likewise gravely and solemnly pray’d for in Churches, and other religious Assemblies, by Clergymen of all Sorts [254]and Sizes: And as soon as he shall have laid these Things together, and, from what he has observ’d in the common Affairs of Life, reason’d upon them consequentially without Prejudice, I dare flatter my self, that he will be oblig’d to own, that a considerable Portion of what the Prosperity of London and Trade in general, and consequently the Honour, Strength, Safety, and all the worldly Interest of the Nation consist in, depends entirely on the Deceit and vile Stratagems of Women; and that Humility, Content, Meekness, Obedience to reasonable Husbands, Frugality, and all the Virtues together, if they were possess’d of them in the most eminent Degree, could not possibly be a thousandth Part so serviceable, to make an opulent, powerful, and what we call a flourishing Kingdom, than their most hateful Qualities.

  I don’t question, but many of my Readers will be startled at this Assertion, when they look on the Consequences that may be drawn from it; and I shall be ask’d, whether People may not as well be virtuous in a populous, rich, wide, extended Kingdom, as in a small, indigent State or Principality, that is poorly a inhabited? And if that be impossible, Whether it is not the Duty of all Sovereigns to reduce their Subjects, as to Wealth and Numbers, as much as they can? If I allow they may, I own my self in the wrong; and if I affirm the other, [255]my Tenets will justly be call’d impious, or at least dangerous to all large Societies. As it is not in this Place of the Book only, but a great many others, that such Queries might be made even by a well-meaning Reader, I shall here explain my self, and endeavour to solve those Difficulties, which several Passages might have rais’d in him, in order to demonstrate the Consistency of my Opinion to Reason, and the strictest Morality.

  I lay down as a first Principle, that in all Societies, great or small, it is the Duty of every Member of it to be good, that Virtue ought to be encourag’d, Vice discountenanc’d, the Laws obey’d, and the Transgressors punish’d. After this I affirm, that if we consult History both Ancient and Modern, and take a view of what has past in the World, we shall find that Human Nature since the Fall of Adam has always been the same, and that the Strength and Frailties of it have ever been conspicuous in one Part of the Globe or other, without any Regard to Ages, Climates, or Religion. I never said, nor imagin’d, that Man could not be virtuous as well in a rich and mighty Kingdom, as in the most pitiful Commonwealth; but I own it is my Sense that no Society can be rais’d into such a rich and mighty Kingdom, or so rais’d, subsist in their Wealth and Power for any considerable Time, without the Vices of Man.

  [256]This I imagine is sufficiently prov’d throughout the Book; and as Human Nature still continues the same, as it has always been for so many thousand Years, we have no great Reason to suspect a future Change in it, while the World endures. Now I cannot see what Immoralitya there is in shewing a Man the Origin and Power of those Passions, which so often, even unknowingly to himself, hurry him away from his Reason; or that there is any Impiety in putting him upon his Guard against himself, and the secret Stratagems of Self-Love, and teaching him the difference between such Actions as proceed from a Victory over the Passions, and those that are only the result of a Conquest which one Passion obtains over another; that is, between Real, and Counterfeited Virtue. It is an admirable Saying of a worthy Divine, That tho’ many Discoveries have been made in the World of Self-Love, there is yet abundance of Terra incognita left behind.1 What hurt a do I do to Man if I make him more known to himself than he was before? But we are all so desperately in Love with Flattery, that we can never relish a Truth that is mortifying, and I don’t believe that the Immortality of the Soul, a Truth broach’d long before Christianity, would have ever found such a general Reception in human Capacities as it has, had it not been a pleasing one, that extoll’d and was a Compliment to the whole Spe-[257]cies, the Meanest and most Miserable not excepted.

  Every one loves to hear the Thing well spoke of, that he has a Share in, even Bailiffs, Goal-keepers, and the Hangman himself would have you think well of their Functions; nay, Thieves and House-breakers have a greater Regard to those of their Fraternity than they have for Honest People; and I sincerely believe, that it is chiefly Self-Love that has gained this little Treatise (as it was before the last b Impression) so many Enemies; 2 every one looks upon it as an Affront done to himself, because it detracts from the Dignity, and lessens the fine Notions he had conceiv’d of Mankind, the most Worshipful Company he belongs to. When I say that Societies cannot be rais’d to Wealth and Power, and the Top of Earthly Glory without Vices, I don’t think that by so saying I bid Men be Vicious, any more than I bid ’em be Quarrelsome or Covetous, when I affirm that the Profession of the Law could not be maintain’d in such Numbers and Splendor, if there was not abundance of too Selfish and Litigious People.1

  But as nothing would more clearly demonstrate the Falsity of my Notions, than that the generality of the People should fall in with them, so I don’t expect the Approbation of the Multitude. I write not to many, nor seek for any Well-wishers, but among the few that can think abstractly, and have their Minds elevated [258]above the Vulgar. If I have shewn the way to worldly Greatness, I have always without Hesitation preferr’d the Road that leads to Virtue.

  Would you banish Fraud and Luxury, prevent Profaneness and Irreligion, and make the generality of the People Charitable, Good and Virtuous, break down the Printing-Presses, melt the Founds, and burn all the Books in the Island, except those at the Universities, where they remain unmolested, and suffer no Volume in private Hands but a Bible: Knock down Foreign Trade, prohibit all Commerce with Strangers, and permit no Ships to go to Sea, that ever will return, beyond Fisher-Boats. Restore to the Clergy, the King and the Barons their Ancient Privileges, Prerogatives and Possessionsa : Build New Churches, and convert all the Coin you can come at into Sacred Utensils: Erect Monasteries and Almshouses in abundance, and let no Parish be without a Charity-School. Enact Sumptuary Laws, and let your Youth be inured to Hardship: Inspire them with all the nice and most refined Notions of Honour and Shame, of Friendship and of Heroism, and introduce among them a great Variety of imaginary Rewards: Then let the Clergy preach Abstinence and Self-denial to others, and take what Liberty they please for themselves; let them bear the greatest Sway in the Management of State-Affairs, and no Man be made Lord-Treasurer but a Bishop.1

  [259]By such pious Endeavours, and wholsome Regulations, the Scene would be soona alter’d; the greatest part of the Covetous, the Discontented, the Restless and Ambitious Villains would leave the Land, vast Swarms of Cheating Knaves would abandon the City, and be dispers’d throughout the Country: Artificers would learn to hold the Plough, Merchants turn Farmers, and the sinful over-grown Jerusalem, without Famine, War, Pestilence, or Compulsion, be emptied in the most easy manner, and ever after cease to be dreadful to her Sovereigns. The happy reform’d Kingdom would by this means be crowded in no part of it, and every thing Necessary for the Sustenance of Man be cheap and abound: On the contrary, the Root of so many thousand Evils, Money, would be very scarce, and as little wantedb , where every Man should enjoy the Fruits of his own Labour, and our own dear Manufacture unmix’d be promiscuously wore by the Lord and the Peasant. It is impossible, that such a Change of Circumstances should not influence the Manners of a Nation, and render them Temperate, Honest, and Sincere, and from the next Generation we might reasonably expect a more healthy and robust Offspring than the present; an harmless, innocent and well-meaning People, that would never dispute the Doctrine of Passive Obedience,1 nor any other Orthodox Principles, [260]but be submissive to Superiors, and unanimous in religious Worship.

  Here I fancy my self interrupted by an Epicure, who not to want a restorative Diet in case of Necessity, is never without live Ortelans, and I am told that Goodness and Probity are to be had at a cheaper rate than the Ruin of a Nation, and the Destruction of all the Comforts of Life; that Liberty and Property may be maintain’d without Wickedness or Fraud, and Men be good Subjects without being Slaves, and religious tho’ they refus’d to be Priest-rid; that to be frugal and saving is a Duty incumbent only on those, whose Circumstances require it, but that a Man of a good Estate does his Country a Service by living up to the Income of it; that as to himself, he is so much Master of his Appetites that he can abstain from any thing upon occasion; that where true Hermitage was not to be had he could content himself with plain Bourdeaux, if it had a good Body; that many a Morning instead of St. Lawrence he has made aa Shift with Fronteniac, and after Dinner given Cyprus Wine, and even Madera, when he has had a large Company, and thought it Extravagant to treat with Tockay; but that all voluntary Mortifications are Superstitious, only belonging to blind Zealots and Enthusiasts. He’ll quote my Lord Shaftsbury against me, and tell me that People may be Virtuous and Sociable without Self-denial,2 that [261]it is an Affront to Virtue to make it inaccessible, that I make a Bugbear of it to frighten Men from it as a thing impracticable; but that for his part he can praise God, and at the same time enjoy his Creatures with a good Conscience; neither will he forget any thing to his Purpose of what I have said, Page 127. He’ll ask me at last, whether the Legislature, the Wisdom of the Nation it self, while they endeavour as much as a possible to discourage Profaneness and Immorality, and promote the Glory of God, do not openly profess at the same time to have nothing more at Heart than the Ease and Welfare of the Subject, the Wealth, Strength, Honour, and what else is call’d the true Interest of the Country; and moreover, whether the most Devout and most Learned of our Prelates in their greatest Concern for our Conversion, when they beseech the Deity to turn their own as well as our Hearts from the World and all Carnal Desires, do not in the same Prayer as loudly sollicit him to pour all Earthly Blessings and temporal Felicity on the Kingdom they belong to.

  These are the Apologies, the Excuses and common Pleas, not only of those who are notoriously vicious, but the generality of Mankind, when you touch the Copy-hold of their Inclinations; and trying the real Value they have for Spirituals, would actually strip them of what their Minds are wholly bent [262]upon. Ashamed of the many Frailties they feel within, all Men endeavour to hide themselves, their Ugly Nakedness , from each other, and wrapping up the true Motives of their Hearts in the Specious Cloke of Sociableness, and their Concern for the publick Good, they are in hopes of concealing their filthy Appetites and the Deformity of their Desires; while they are conscious within of the Fondness for their darling Lusts, and their Incapacity, barefac’d, to tread the arduous, rugged Path of Virtue.

  As to the two last Questions, I own they are very puzzling: To what the Epicure asks I am oblig’d to answer in the Affirmative; and unless I would (which God forbid!) arraign the Sincerity of Kings, Bishops, and the whole Legislative Power, the Objection stands good against me: All I can say for myself is, that in the Connexion of the Facts there is a Mystery past Human Understanding; and to convince the Reader, that this is no Evasion, I shall illustrate the Incomprehensibility of it in the following Parable.

  In old Heathen Times there was, they say, a whimsical Country, where the People talk’d much of Religion, and the greatest part as to outward Appearance seem’d really Devout: The chief moral Evil among them was Thirst, and to quench it a damnable Sin; yet they unanimously agreed that every one was born Thirsty more or less: Small Beer in Modera-[263]tion was allow’d to all, and he was counted an Hypocrite, a Cynick, or a Madman, who pretended that one could live altogether without it; yet those, who owned they loved it, and drank it to Excess, were counted wicked. All this while the Beer it self was reckon’d a Blessing from Heaven, and there was no harm in the use of it; all the Enormity lay in the Abuse, the Motive of the Heart, that made them drink it. He that took the least Drop of it to quench his Thirst, committed a heinous Crime, while others drank large Quantities without any Guilt, so they did it indifferently, and for no other Reason than to mend their Complexion.

  They Brew’d for other Countries as well as their own, and for the Small Beer they sent abroad, they received large Returns of Westphalia-Hams, Neats-Tongues, Hung-Beef, and Bolonia-Sausages, Red-Herrings, Pickled-Sturgeon, Cavear, Anchoves, and every thing that was proper to make their Liquor go down with Pleasure. Those who kept great Stores of Small Beer by them without making use of it, were generally envied, and at the same time very odious to the Publick, and no body was easy that had not enough of it come to his own share. The greatest Calamity they thought could befal them, was to keep their Hops and Barley upon their Hands, and the more they yearly consumed of them, the more they reckon’d the Country to flourish.

  264The Government had manya very wise Regulations concerning the Returns that were made for their Exports, encouraged very much the Importation of Salt and Pepper, and laid heavy Duties on every thing that was not well season’d, and might any ways obstruct the Sale of their own Hops and Barley. Those at Helm, when they acted in publick, shew’d themselves on all Accounts exempt and wholly divested from Thirst, made several Laws to prevent the Growth of it, and punish the Wicked who openly dared to quench it. If you examin’d them in their private Persons, and pry’d narrowly into their Lives and Conversations, they seem’d to be more fond, or at least drank larger Draughts of Small Beer than others, but always under Pretence that the mending of Complexions required greater Quantities of Liquor in them, than it did in those they Ruled over; and that, what they had chiefly at Heart, without any regard to themselves, was to procure great Plenty of Small Beer among the Subjects in general, and a great Demand for their Hops and Barley.

  As no body was debarr’d from Small Beer, the Clergy made use of it as well as the Laity, and some of them very plentifully; yet all of them desired to be thought less Thirsty by their Function than others, and never would own that they drank any but to mend their Complexions. In their Religious Assemblies they were more sincere; for as soon as they [265]came there, they all openly confess’d, the Clergy as well as the Laity, from the highest to the lowest, that they were Thirsty, that mending their Complexions was what they minded the least, and that all their Hearts were set upon Small Beer and quenching their Thirst, whatever they might pretend to the contrary. What was remarkable is, that to have laid hold of those Truths to any one’s Prejudice, and made use of those Confessions afterwards out of their Temples would have been counted very impertinent, and every body thought it an heinous Affront to be call’d Thirsty, tho’ you had seen him drink Small Beer by whole Gallons. The chief Topicks of their Preachers was the great Evil of Thirst, and the Folly there was in quenching it. They exhorted their Hearers to resist the Temptations of it, inveigh’d against Small Beer, and often told them it was Poison, if they drank it with Pleasure, or any other Design than to mend their Complexions.

  In their Acknowledgments to the Gods, they thank’d them for the Plenty of comfortable Small Beer they had receiv’d from them, notwithstanding they had so little deserv’d it, and continually quench’d their Thirst with it; whereas they were so thorowly satisfy’d, that it was given them for a better Use. Having begg’d Pardon for those Offences, they desired the Gods to lessen their Thirst, and give them Strength to resist the Importunities of it; yet, [266]in the midst of their sorest Repentance, and mosta humble Supplications, they never forgot Small Beer, and pray’d that they might continue to have it in great Plenty, with a solemn Promise, that how neglectful soever they might hitherto have been in this Point, they would for the future not drink a Drop of it with any other Design than to mend their Complexions.

  These were standing Petitions put together to last; and having continued to be made use of without any Alterations for several hundred Years together; it was thought by some, that the Gods, who understood Futurity, and knew that the same Promise they heard in June would be made to them the January following, did not rely much more on those Vows, than we do on those waggish Inscriptions by which Men offer us their Goods, To-day for Money, and To-morrow for nothing. They often began their Prayers very mystically, and spoke many things in a spiritual Sense; yet, they never were so abstract from the World in them, as to end one without beseeching the Gods to bless and prosper the Brewing Trade in all its Branches, and for the Good of the Whole, more and more to increase the Consumption of Hops and Barley.1

  [267](V.)a Content, the Bane of Industry: Page 21. Line 6.

  I Have been told by many, that the Bane of Industry is Laziness, and not Content; therefore to prove my Assertion, which seems a Paradox to some, I shall treat of Laziness and Content separately, and afterwards speak of Industry, that the Reader may judge which it is of the two former that is most opposite to the latter.

  Laziness is an Aversion to Business, generally attended with an unreasonable Desire of remaining unactive; and every Body is lazy, who without being hinder’d by any other warrantable Employment, refuses or puts off any Business which he ought to do for himself or others. We seldom call any body lazy, but such as we reckon inferior to us, and of whom we expect some Service. Children don’t think their Parents lazy, nor Servants their Masters; and if a Gentleman indulges his Ease and Sloth so abominably, that he won’t put on his own Shoes, though he is young and slender, no body shall call him lazy for it, if he can keep but a Footman, or some body else to do it for him.

  [268]Mr. Dryden has given us a very good Idea of superlative Slothfulness in the Person of a Luxurious King of Egypt.1 His Majesty having bestowed some considerable Gifts on several of his Favourites, is attended by some of his chief Ministers with a Parchment which he was to sign to confirm those Grants. First, he walks a few Turns to and fro with a heavy Uneasiness in his Looks, then sets himself down like a Man that’s tired, and at last with abundance of Reluctancy to what he was going about, he takes up the Pen, and falls a complaining very seriously of the Length of the Word Ptolemy, and expresses a great deal of Concern, that he had not some short Monosyllable fora his Name, which he thought wou’d save him a World of Trouble.

  We often reproach others with Laziness, because we are guilty of it our selves. Some days ago as two young Women sat knotting together, says one to the other, there comes a wicked Cold through that Door, you are the nearest to it, Sister, pray shut it. The other, who was the youngest, vouchsaf’d indeed to cast an Eyea towards the Door, but sat still and said nothing; the eldest spoke again two or three times, and at last the other making her no answer, nor offering to stir, she got up in a Pet and shut the Door herself; coming back to sit down again, she gave the younger a very hard Look, and said; Lord, Sister Betty, [269]I would not be so lazy as you are for all the World; which she spoke so earnestly, that it brought a Colour in her Face. The youngest should have risen, I own; but if the eldest had not over-valued her Labour, she would have shut the Door herself, as soon as the Cold was offensive to her, without making any words of it. She was not above a Step farther from the Door than her Sister, and as to Age, there was not Eleven Months difference between them, and they were both under Twenty. I thought it a hard matter to determine which was the laziest of the two.

  There are a thousand Wretches that are always working the Marrow out of their Bones for next to nothing, because they are unthinking and ignorant of what the Pains they take are worth: while others who are cunning and understand the true value of their Work, refuse to be employ’d at under Rates, not because they are of an unactive Temper, but because they won’t beat down the Price of their Labour. A Country Gentleman sees at the back side of the Exchange a Porter walking to and fro with his Hands in his Pockets. Pray, says he, Friend, will you step for me with this Letter as far as Bow-Church, and I’ll give you a Penny? I’ll go with all my Heart, says t’other, but I must have Two-pence, Master; which the Gentleman refusing to give, the Fellow turn’d his Back, and told him, he’d rather play for nothing [270]than work for nothing. The Gentleman thought it an unaccountable piece of Laziness in a Porter, rather to saunter up and down for nothing, than to be earning a Penny with as little trouble. Some Hours after he happen’d to be with some Friends at a Tavern in Threadneedlestreet, where one of them calling to mind that he had forgot to send for a Bill of Exchange that was to go away with the Post that Night, was in great Perplexity, and immediately wanted some body to go for him to Hackney with all the Speed a imaginable. It was after Ten, in the middle of Winter, a very rainy Night, and all the Porters thereabouts were gone to Bed. The Gentleman grew very uneasy, and said, whatever it cost him that somebody he must send; at last one of the Drawers seeing him so very pressing, told him that he knew a Porter, who would rise, if it was a Job worth his while. Worth his while, said the Gentleman very eagerly, don’t doubt of that, good Lad, if you know of any body let him make what haste he can, and I’ll give him a Crown if he be back by Twelve o’Clock. Upon this the Drawer took the Errand, left the Room, and in less than a Quarter of an Hour came back with the welcome News that the Message would be dispatch’d with all Expedition. The Company in the mean time diverted themselves as they had done before; but when it began to be towards Twelve the Watches were pull’d out, and the Porter’s Return [271]was all the Discourse. Some were of Opinion he might yet come before the Clock had struck; others thought it impossible, and now it wanted but three Minutes of Twelve when in comes the nimble Messenger smoking hot, with his Clothes as wet as Dung with the Rain, and his Head all over in a Bath of Sweat. He had nothing dry about him but the inside of his Pocket-Book,b out of which he took the Bill he had been for, and by the Drawer’s Direction presented it to the Gentleman it belonged to; who being very well pleas’d with the Dispatch he had made, gave him the Crown he had promis’d, while another fill’d him a Bumper, and the whole Company commended his Diligence. As the Fellow came nearer the Light, to take up the Wine, the Country Gentleman I mention’d at first, to his great Admiration, knew him to be the same Porter that had refus’d to earn his Penny, and whom he thought the laziest Mortal Alive.

  Thea Story teaches us, that we ought not to confound those who remain unemploy’d for want of an Opportunity of exerting themselves to the best advantage, with such as for want of Spirit, hug themselves in their Sloth, and will rather starve than stir. Without this Caution, we must pronounce all the World more or less lazy, according to their Estimation of the Reward they are to purchase with their Labour, [272]and then the most Industrious may be call’d Lazy.

  Content I call that calm Serenity of the Mind, which Men enjoy while they think themselves happy, and rest satisfy’d with the Station they are in: It implies a favourable Construction of our present Circumstances, and a peaceful Tranquillity, which Men are Strangers to as long as they are sollicitous about mending their Condition. This is a Virtue of which the Applause is very precarious and uncertain: for according as Mens Circumstances vary, they’ll either be blam’d or commended for being possess’d of it.

  A single Man that works hard at a laborious Trade, has a hundred a Year left him by a Relation: This Change of Fortune makes him soon weary of working, and not having Industry enough to put himself forward in the World, he resolves to do nothing at all, and live upon his Income. As long as he lives within Compass, pays for what he has, and offends no body, he shall be call’d an honest quiet Man. The Victualler, his Landlady, the Tailor, and others divide what he has between them, and the Society is every Year the better for his Revenue; whereas, if he should follow his own or any other Trade, he must hinder others, and some body would have the less for what he should get; and therefore, tho’ he should be the idlest Fellow in the World, lie [273]a-bed fifteen Hours in four and twenty, and do nothing but sauntring up and down all the rest of the time, no body would discommend him, and his unactive Spirit is honoured with the Name of Content.

  But if the same Man marries, gets three or four Children, and still continues of the same easy Temper, rests satisfied with what he has, and without endeavouring to get a Penny, indulges his former Sloth: First, his Relations, afterwards all his Acquaintance, will be alarm’d at his Negligence: They foresee that his Income will not be sufficient to bring up so many Children handsomely, and are afraid, some of them may, if not a Burden, become a Disgrace to them. When these Fears have been for some time whispered about from one to another, his Uncle Gripe takes him to Task, and accosts him in the following Cant; What, Nephew, no Business yet! Fy upon’t! I can’t imagine how you do to spend your Time; if you won’t work at your own Trade, there are fifty ways that a Man may pick up a Penny by: You have a Hundred a Year, ’tis true, but your Charges increase every Year, and what must you do when your Children are grown up? I have a better Estate than you my self, and yet you don’t see me leave off my Business; nay, I declare it, might I have the World I could not lead the Life you do. ’Tis no Business of mine, I own, but every body cries, ’tis a Shame aayoung Man as you are, [274]that has his Limbs and his Health, should not turn his Handsb to something or other. If these Admonitions do not reform him in a little time, and he continues half a Year longer without Employment, he’ll become a Discourse to the whole Neighbourhood, and for the same Qualifications that once got him the Name of a quiet contented Man, he shall be call’d the worst of Husbands and the laziest Fellow upon Earth: From whence it is manifest, that when we pronounce Actions good or evil, we only regard the Hurt or Benefit the Society receives from them, and not the Persona who commits them. (See Page 34.)

  Diligence and Industry are often used promiscuously, to signify the same thing, but there is a great Difference between them. A poor Wretch may want neither Diligence nor Ingenuity, be a saving Pains-taking Man, and yet without striving to mend his Circumstances remain contented with the Station he lives in; but Industry implies, besides the other Qualities, a Thirst after Gain, and an Indefatigable Desire of meliorating our Condition. When Men think either the Customary Profitsb of their Calling, or else the Share of Business they have too small, they have two ways to deserve the Name of Industrious; and they must be either Ingenious enough to find out uncommon, and yet warrantable Methods to increase their Business or their Profit, or else supply that Defect by a Multiplicity of [275]Occupations. If a Tradesman takes care to provide his Shop, and gives due Attendance to those that come to it, he is a diligent Man in his Business; but if, besides that, he takes particular Pains to sell to the same Advantage a better Commodity than the rest of his Neighbours, or if by his Obsequiousness, or some other good quality, getting into a large Acquaintance, he uses all possible Endeavours of drawing Customers to his House, he then may be called Industrious. A Cobler, though he is not employed half of his Time, if he neglects no Business, and makes dispatch when he has any, is a diligent Man; but if he runs of Errands when he has no Work, or makes but Shoe-pins, and serves as a Watchman a-nights, he deserves the Name of Industrious.

  If what has been said in this Remark be duly weigh’d, we shall find, either that Laziness and Content are very near a-kin, or if there be a great difference between them, that the latter is more contrary to Industry than the former.

  [276](X.)a To make a Great an Honest Hive: Page 23. Line 2.

  THIS perhaps might be done where People are contented to be poor and hardy; but if they would likewise enjoy their Ease and the Comforts of the World, and be at once an opulent, potent, and flourishing, as well as a Warlike Nation, it is utterly impossible. I have heard People speak of the mighty Figure the Spartans made above all the Commonwealths of Greece, notwithstanding their uncommon Frugality and other exemplary Virtues. But certainly there never was a Nation whose Greatness was more empty than theirs: The Splendor they lived in was inferior to that of a Theatre, and the only thing they could be proud of, was, that they enjoy’d nothing. They were indeed both feared and esteemed Abroad: They were so famed for Valour and Skill in Martial Affairs, that their Neighbours did not only court their Friendship and Assistance in their Wars, but were satisfied and thought themselves sure of the Victory, if they could but get a Spartan General to command their Armies. But then their Discipline was so rigid, and their manner of living so Austere [277]and void of all Comfort, that the most temperate Man among us would refuse to submit to the Harshnessb of such uncouth Laws. There was a perfect Equality among them: Gold and Silver Coin were cried down; their current Money was made of Iron, to render it of a great Bulk and little Worth: To lay up twenty or thirty Pounds, required a pretty large Chamber, and to remove it nothing less than a Yoke of Oxen. Another Remedy, they had against Luxury, was, that they were obliged to eat in common of the same Meat, and they so little allowed any body to Dine or Sup by himself at home, that Agis, one of their Kings, having vanquished the Athenians, and sending for his Commons at his return home (because he desired privately to eat with his Queen) was refused by the Polemarchi.1

  In training up their Youth, their chief Care, says Plutarch, was to make them good Subjects, to fit them to endure the Fatigues of long and tedious Marches, and never to return without Victory from the Field. When they were twelve Years old, they lodg’d in little Bands, upon Beds made of the Rushes which grew by the Banks of the River Eurotas; and because their Points were sharp, they were to break them off with their Hands without a Knife: If it were a hard Winter, they mingled some Thistle-down with their Rushes to keep them warm (see Plutarch in the Life of [278]Lycurgus.) 2 From all these Circumstances it is plain, that no Nation on Earth was less effeminate; but being debarred from all the Comforts of Life, they could have nothing for their Pains but the Glory of being a Warlike People inured to Toils and Hardships, which was a Happiness that few People would have cared for upon the same Terms: And though they had been Masters of the World, as long as they enjoyed no more of it, Englishmen would hardly have envy’d them their Greatness.1 What Mena want now-a-days has sufficiently been shewn in Remark (O.)b where I have treated of real Pleasures.

  (Y.)c T’d enjoy the World’s Conveniencies.

  Page 23. Line 3.

  THAT the Words Decency and Conveniency were very ambiguous, and not to be understood, unless we were acquainted with the Quality and Circumstances of the Persons that made use of them, hase been hinted already in Remark (L.) The Goldsmith, Mercer, or any other of the most creditable Shopkeepers, that has three or four thousand Pounds to set up with, must have two Dishes of Meat every Day, and something extraordinary for [279]Sundays. His Wife must have a Damask Bed against her Lying-in, and two or three Rooms very well furnished: The following Summer she must have a House, or at least very good Lodgings in the Country. A Man that has a Being out of Town, must have a Horse; his Footman must have another. If he has a tolerable Trade, he expects in eight or ten Years time to keep his Coach, which notwithstanding he hopes that after he has slaved (as he calls it) for two or three and twenty Years, he shall be worth at least a thousand a Year for his eldest Son to inherit, and two or three thousand Pounds for each of his other Children to begin the World with; and when Men of such Circumstances pray for their daily Bread, and mean nothing more extravagant by it, they are counted pretty modest People. Call this Pride, Luxury, Superfluity, or what you please, it is nothing but what ought to be in the Capital of a flourishing Nation: Those of inferior Condition must content themselves with less costly Conveniencies, as others of higher Rank will be sure to make theirs more expensive. Some People call it but Decency to be served in Plate, and reckon a Coach and six among the necessary Comforts of Life; and if a Peer has not above three or four thousand a Year, his Lordship is counted Poor.a

  [280]SINCE the first Edition of this Book, several have attack’d me with Demonstrations of the certain Ruin, which excessive Luxury must bring upon all Nations, who yet were soon answered, when I shewed them the Limits within which I had confined it; and therefore that no Reader for the future may misconstrue me on this Head, I shall point at the Cautions I have given, and the Proviso’s I have made in the former as well as this present Impression, and which if not overlooked, must prevent all rational Censure, and obviate several Objections that otherwise might be made against me. I have laid down as Maxims never to be departed from, that the † Poor should be kept strictly to Work, and that it was Prudence to relieve their Wants, but Folly to cure them; that Agriculture * and Fishery should be promoted in all their Branches in order to render Provisions , and consequently Labour cheap. I have named ‡ Ignorance as a necessary Ingredient in the Mixture of Society: From all which it is manifest that I could never have imagined, that Luxury was to be made general through every part of a Kingdom. I have likewise [281]required † that Property should be well secured, Justice impartially administred, and in every thing the Interest of the Nation taken care of: But what I have insisted on the most, and repeated more than once, is the great Regard that is to be had to the Balance of Trade, and the Care the Legislature ought to take that the Yearly * Imports never exceed the Exports; and where this is observed, and the other things I spoke of are not neglected, I still continue to assert that no Foreign Luxury can undo a Country: The height of it is never seen but in Nations that are vastly populous, and there only in the upper part of it, and the greater that is the larger still in proportion must be the lowest, the Basis that supports all, the multitude of Working Poor.

  Those who would too nearly imitate others of Superior Fortune must thank themselves if they are ruin’d. This is nothing against Luxury; for whoever can subsist and lives above his Income is a Fool. Some Persons of Quality may keep three or four Coaches and Six, and at the same time lay up Money for their Children: while a young Shopkeeper is undone for keeping one sorry Horse. It is impossible there should be a rich Nation without Prodigals, yet I never knew a City so full of Spendthrifts, but [282]there were Covetous People enough to answer their Number. As an Old Merchant breaks for havinga been extravagant or careless a great while, so a young Beginner falling into the same Business gets an Estate by being saving or more industrious before he is Forty Yearsb Old: Besides that the Frailties of Men often work by Contraries: Some Narrow Souls can never thrive because they are too stingy, while longer Heads amass great Wealth by spending their Money freely, and seeming to despise it. But the Vicissitudes of Fortune are necessary, and the most lamentable are no more detrimental to Society than the Death of the Individual Members of it. Christnings are a proper Balance to Burials. Those who immediately lose by the Misfortunes of others are very sorry, complain and make a Noise; but the others who get by them, as there always are such, hold their Tongues, because it is odious to be thought the better for the Losses and Calamities of our Neighbour. The various Ups and Downs compose a Wheel that always turning round gives motion to the whole Machine. Philosophers, that dare extend their Thoughts beyond the narrow compass of what is immediately before them, look on the alternate Changes in the Civil Society no otherwise than they do on the risings and fallings of the Lungs; the latter of which are asa much a Part of Respiration in the more perfect Animals as the first; so that [283]the fickle Breath of never-stable Fortune is to the Body Politick, the same as floating Air is to a living Creature.

  Avarice then and Prodigality are equally necessary to the Society. That in some Countries, Men are more generally lavish than in others, proceeds from the difference inb Circumstances that dispose to either Vice, and arise from the Condition of the Social Body as well as the Temperament of the Natural. I beg Pardon of the attentive Reader, if here in behalf of short Memories I repeat some things, the Substance of which they have already seen in Remark (Q.) More Money than Land, heavy Taxes and scarcity of Provisions, Industry, Laboriousness, an active and stirring Spirit, Ill-nature and Saturninec Temper; Old Age, Wisdom, Trade, Riches, acquired by our own Labour, and Liberty and Property well secured, are all Things that dispose to Avarice. On the contrary, Indolence, Content, Good-nature, a Jovial Temper, Youth, Folly, Arbitrary Power, Money easily got, Plenty of Provisions and the Uncertainty of Possessions, are Circumstances that render men prone to Prodigality: Where there is the most of the first the prevailing Vice will be Avarice, and Prodigality where the other turnsa the Scale; but a National Frugality there never was nor never will be without a National Necessity.

  [284]Sumptuary Laws may be of use to an indigent Country, after great Calamities of War, Pestilence, or Famine, when Work has stood still, and the Labour of the Poor been interrupted; but to introduce them into an opulent Kingdom is the wrong way to consult the Interest of it. I shall end my Remarks on the Grumbling Hive with assuring the Champions of National Frugality that it would be impossible for the Persians and other Eastern People to purchase the vast Quantities of fine English Cloth they consume, should we load our Women with less Cargo’s of Asiatick Silks.

  [1]See Plutarch’s Lives (Dryden’s, 1683) i. 306, in the life of Solon.

  [a]every 14, 23

  [a]came] was come 14, 23

  [1]Edward Lloyd’s coffee-house, heard of first in 1688, grew into a meeting-place for merchants and shipmen, and by Mandeville’s day had become almost a small stock-exchange.

  [1]Compare Spinoza’s definition: ‘ Gloria est Lætitia concomitante idea alicujus nostræ actionis, quam alios laudare imaginamur’ (Ethica, pt. 3, def. 30). See also Descartes, Passions de l’Âme, art. 204. Cf. also below, i. 198, n. 2.

  [1]Compare Spinoza’s definition: ‘ Pudor est Tristitia concomitante idea alicujus actionis, quam alios vituperare imaginamur’ (Ethica, pt. 3, def. 31). Cf. also Descartes, Passions de l’Âme, articles 66 and 205.

  [a]Woman 14, 23

  [1]This analysis of modesty is anticipated in Esprit, La Fausseté des Vertus Humaines, 1678, vol. 2, ch. 7. Cf. also Herrick’s couplets:

  • To read my Booke the virgin shie
  • May blush, (while Brutus standeth by:)
  • But when He’s gone, read through what’s writ,
  • And never staine a cheek for it
  • (Poetical Works, ed. Moorman, p. 6).

  [1]Concerning Mandeville’s analysis of sympathy see above, i. xc, n. 3.

  [a]L. 14

  [1]Mandeville in 1732 recanted his statement that pride and shame are distinct passions, saying of himself, ‘… it was an Errour, which I know he is willing to own’ (Origin of Honour, p. 12. ‘The Symptoms, and if you will the Sensations’, he continued (p. 13), ‘that are felt in the Two Cases, are, as you say, vastly different from one another; but no Man could be affected with either, if he had not such a Passion in his Nature, as I call Self-liking. Therefore they are different Affections of one and the same Passion, that are differently observed in us, according as we either enjoy Pleasure, or are aggriev’d on Account of that Passion; in the same Manner as the most happy and the most miserable Lovers are happy and miserable on the Score of the same Passion.’—For the use which Mandeville makes of his conception of ‘self-liking’ see below, ii. 129–36.

  [a]Rest of Remark C add. 23

  [b]was 23, 24

  [1]French taste seems to have been more squeamish than English taste. The French translation omits this couplet, saying (ed. 1750, i. 61, n.), ‘ Ceux qui entendent l’Anglois s’appercevront aisément, pourquoi je me suis dispensé de les traduire. J’ai été obligé pour la même raison d’adoucir quantité d’expressions qui auroient pu faire de la peine aux personnes chastes.’

  [1]Cf. Virgin Unmask’d (1724), pp. 27–8, for an elaboration of this opinion.

  [a]that add. 24

  [a]what 23

  [b]she is] she’s 23–25

  [c]contain 23–29

  [1]Bacon cited ‘ that principle of Machiavel, that a man seek not to attain virtue itself, but the appearance only thereof …’ (Advancement of Learning, ed. Spedding, Ellis, Heath, 1887, iii. 471; cf. Machiavelli, Il Principe, ch. 18). La Rochefoucauld wrote (Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault, maxim 606), ‘Ce que le monde nomme vertu n’est d’ordinaire qu’un fantôme formé par nos passions, à qui on donne un nom honnête, pour faire impunément ce qu’on veut’. Abbadie expressed himself much like Mandeville: ‘ … pour aquerir l’estime des hommes, il n’est pas necessaire que nôtre cœur soit changé, il suffit que nous nous déguisions aux yeux des autres, au lieu que nous ne pouvons nous faire approver de Dieu, qu’en changeant le fond de nôtre cœur’ (L’Art de se connoitre soy-meme, The Hague, 1711, ii. 435–6). Rémond de Saint-Mard said that ‘la politesse est un beau nom qu’on donne à la fausseté; car les vices utiles ont toûjours de beaux noms’ (Œuvres Mêlées, The Hague, 1742, i. 89).

  [a]Submissions 23

  [1]Cf. Ovid, Amores 1. v. 7–8.

  [a]no] no other 23

  [1]This argument is repeated in Mandeville’s Modest Defence of Publick Stews (1724), p. 26. Cf. Laconics: or, New Maxims of State and Conversation, ed. 1701, pt. 2, maxim 69, p. 46: ‘Reputation is a greater Tye upon a Woman than Nature, or they would not commit Murder to prevent Infamy.’

  [a]sparing 28–32

  [a]such] such a 23–25

  [1]Cf. above, i. xcii–xciii.

  [a]it om. 24

  [b]that 32

  [c]don’t 14, 23

  [d]then 14, 23

  [e]for 14–24

  [1]Cf. Mandeville’s Free Thoughts (1729), p. 292: ‘Therefore every shop-keeper has his mark, which is allowed to be secret. … The intrinsical value and prime cost of things is what all sellers endeavour with the utmost care to conceal from the buyers.’

  [a]Leg 14, 23

  [a]Loser.] Loser, 32

  [1]Cf. Colley Cibber, The Rival Fools 1 (Dramatic Works, ed. 1777, ii. 102): ‘ …. losers must have leave to speak. …’ See also Vanbrugh, The False Friend 1. i (ed. Ward, 1893, ii. 12).

  [b]very add. 24

  [a]in 14–25

  [b]Pieces 14–25

  [a]but] but that 14–32

  [a]rout 14, 23

  [b]Rest of Remark G add. 23

  [1]See Fable i. 18.

  [1]Who is worth almost one hundred thousand pounds.

  [a]Juniper-Berries 23, 24

  [1]‘Gin’ is an abbreviation of ‘geneva’.

  [b]crafty 24, 29

  [2]A medical term implying a general dryness in the body and lack of serum in the blood.

  [a]it’s] it is 23, 24

  [b]suppy’d 32

  [c]then 23, 24

  [d]makes 23

  [a]requited 32

  [a]that 23, 24

  [1]Cf. Juvenal, Satires xiv. 204–5.

  [a]Example.] Example, 32

  [a]Sentiments 14–24

  [b]that 142

  [1]Mandeville repeats this observation in his Free Thoughts (1729), p. 257, and makes a similar one in Fable ii. 153.

  [2]A reference to the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685.
  
  Of his use of the word ‘Hugonots’, the Bibliothèque Britannique for 1733, ii. 4, n. a, says, ‘C’est ainsi qu’il nomme les Protestans de France, ignorant peut-être, que c’est un terme de mépris’. Similarly, the French translation (ed. 1750, i. 111, n.) says, ‘L’Auteur les nomme Huguenots, comme s’il eut ignoré que c’étoit une injure’.

  [1]Polling a vote in the elections for Parliament held at the Guild-hall.

  [2]Mandeville used this word-coinage in Some Fables after the Easie and Familiar Method of Monsieur de la Fontaine (1703), p. 69.

  [a]Quality.] Quality, 32

  [a]Prizes 142

  [b]The 32

  [1]The costumes, possibly, in which ancient Roman rôles were played. Extravagant modern dress was used. Since even Barton Booth played Cato in a ‘flowered gown’ (Pope, Imitations of Horace 11. i. 337), it may be imagined what the dresses of strolling actresses resembled.

  [2]The French translator apparently had a different experience in these temples of Venus, for he writes (ed. 1750, i. 116, n.) concerning the music there, ‘C’est pour l’ordinaire un violon, & un psaltérion, ou un mauvais hautbois. Il faut que la musique de ces lieux ait changé depuis le tems que l’Auteur écrivoit

  [a]endeavours 14, 23

  [1]A bailiff or sheriff.

  [2]Alexandre Toussaint de Limojon de Saint-Didier (1630?–89) was a diplomat and historian. Among his works was La Ville et la République de Venise, which is the work cited here—see p. 331, 3rd ed., Amsterdam, 1680.

  [1]Giovanni Niccolò Doglioni, who died early in the sixteenth century, was a voluminous historical writer, especially on matters connected with Venice.—Mandeville, however, is not quoting from Doglioni, but from Saint-Didier’s La Ville et la République de Venise, p. 331; or, rather, he is quoting from Bayle’s Miscellaneous Reflections, ii. 335, which quoted Saint-Didier! Anent this complicated series of quotations Bluet humorously remarks (Enquiry, ed. 1725, p. 138), ‘Again, does not he [Mandeville] say, that Mr. Bayle says, that Mr. de St. Didier says, that one Doglioni says, that the Venetians were much in the right to get Whores from Abroad, when they had not enough of their own at Home?’

  [2]This entire paragraph and the next to the end of the last italicized citation on p. 100 are an almost literal transcription of Bayle’s Miscellaneous Reflections, Occasion’d by the Comet (1708) ii. 334–6, with the exception of the half sentence above concerning the ‘Universities in England’, which is not in Bayle.

  [3]Bluet, with apparent truth, answered Mandeville’s charge against the colleges as follows (Enquiry, pp. 168–9): ‘… for the Satisfaction of all curious Readers, we do assure them, upon the Credit of those who have examined the Statutes of those Colleges in both Universities, which have at any Time been most suspected for such a Licence, that there is no Expression of this Sort, nor any Thing equivalent to it, nor any other that gives the least Countenance to Lewdness, nor does there appear to be the least Foundation to believe there ever was any such. On the other hand, there are in those very colleges express Statutes that punish Fornication with Expulsion.’

  [1]See above, i. 99, nn. 1 and 2. Bayle is discussed in the present edition, i. xlii–xlv, ciii–cv, and 167, n. 2.

  [a](to whom … Paragraph) add. 23

  [1]Cf. Sallust, Catiline v. 4. In his Free Thoughts (1729), p. 380, Mandeville writes of ‘those that are tainted with the vice of Cataline, and are greedy after the possessions of others, only to heighten the satisfaction they feel in throwing away their own’.

  [a]Chimneys 14

  [b]dispersing 142

  [a]keeps 142

  [b]a add. 23

  [c]thus add. 23

  [1]Mandeville several times apologizes for the ‘lowness’ of his similes. Cf. Free Thoughts (1729), pp. 100 and 390, Executions at Tyburn, p. 37, Modest Defence of Publick Stews (1724), p. [xiv], and Fable i. 354 and ii. 322.

  [a]sell 32

  [a]judiciously mixt] judiciously, mixt 142

  [b]two om. 32

  [c]gilstning 32

  [d]prevent 32

  [1]Cf. La Rochefoucauld: ‘Les vices entrent dans la composition des vertus, comme les poisons entrent dans la composition des remèdes …’ (Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault, maxim 182).

  [1]Concerning the historical background for Mandeville’s defence of luxury see above, i. xciv–xcviii.

  [*]Daniel Dyke made the somewhat similar statement that God ‘can make sin, contrary to his own nature, to work to our good, driving out one poyson with another’ (Mystery of Selfe-Deceiving, ed. 1642, p. 205).

  [1]This opinion had been upheld by Locke (Works, ed. 1823, v. 19 and 72), Simon Clement (Discourse of the General Notions of Money, ed. 1695, p. 11), and Sir Josiah Child, who wrote: ‘Is there not a great similitude between the Affairs of a private Person, and of a Nation, the former being but a little Family, and the latter a great Family?
  
  ‘I answer; Yes, certainly there is’ (New Discourse of Trade, ed. 1694, p. 164).
  
  Sir Dudley North in his Discourses upon Trade (1691), p. 15, anticipated Mandeville’s attack on this opinion: ‘Countries which have sumptuary Laws, are generally poor. … It is possible Families may be supported by such means, but then the growth of Wealth in the Nation is hindered; for that never thrives better, than when Riches are tost from hand to hand.’ Another anticipation of Mandeville’s position was furnished by Nicholas Barbon in his Discourse of Trade (1690), p. 6: ‘This sheweth a Mistake of Mr. Munn, in his Discourse of Trade [Sir Thomas Mun’s England’s Treasure by Forraign Trade (1664), pp. 12–13], who commends Parsimony, Frugality, and Sumptuary Laws, as the means to make a Nation Rich; and uses an Argument, from a Simile, supposing a Man to have 1000l. per Annum, and 2000l. in a Chest, and spends Yearly 1500l. per Annum, he will in four Years time Waste his 2000l. This is true of a Person, but not of a Nation; because his Estate is Finite, but the Stock of a Nation Infinite …’

  [a]Million 142

  [1]In the passage following Mandeville offers orthodox economics with some variations. The prevailing economic faith of his day—known now as mercantilism—believed money to be the best wealth of a country and the amount of a nation’s money a fair gauge of its prosperity. This did not mean, however, that economists were blind to more fundamental forms of wealth, such as land or labour (see below, i. 197, n.1); nor did it mean that they were ignorant of the limitations possessed by money. They realized the function of money as a ‘counter’ whose value may be adjusted; as Boisguillebert put it, ‘L’argent n’est … que le lien du commerce, et le gage de la tradition future des échanges, quand la livraison ne se fait pas sur-le-champ à l’égard d’un des contractants …’ (Factum de la France, in Économistes Financiers, ed. Daire, 1843, p. 278; cf. Cossa, Introduzione allo Studio dell’ Economia Politica, 3rd ed., Parte Storica, ch. 3, § 2). They understood, also, as early as the sixteenth century, that money has no absolute value, but is, as Mandeville said (below, i. 111), a ‘Commodity’ subject to the laws of commodities (cf. Bodin, Les Six Livres de la Republique, Lyons, 1593, pp. 882–3, and La Response de Iean Bodin aux Paradoxes de Malestroit (1594)—printed with the preceding book—, ff. 47 sqq., and for further examples, Montchrétien, Traité de l’Œconomie Politique, ed. Funck-Brentano, 1889, p. 257, Petty, Treatise of Taxes, ch. 5, § 9 sqq., Sir Dudley North, Discourses upon Trade, ed. 1691, pp. 16 and 18, and D’Avenant, Works, ed. 1771, i. 355). However, although knowing money for a tool, the mercantilists thought it the supreme tool, and, though recognizing it as a commodity, they considered it the most valuable commodity.
  
  Naturally, therefore, they attempted to control trade so as to concentrate the maximum amount of money in their own country. Though they might approve of exportations, they frowned upon importations, for, they thought, payment for such importations took money out of the country, thus impoverishing it. Their ideal, consequently, was a balance of trade such that exports should always exceed imports.
  
  Meanwhile, however, as England’s importing business grew, apologists naturally arose to defend it. They did this, though, in terms of current opinion. Thus, Sir Thomas Mun pleaded that, although money is really a country’s best wealth, this fact is no argument against importing commodities, for such trade, in spite of first appearances, will not draw money out of the country, but attract it (Mun, England’s Treasure by Forraign Trade, passim), and the very able Considerations on the East-India Trade (1701) stated, ‘Free-Trade the way to increase our Money’ (see Select Collection of Early English Tracts on Commerce, ed. Political Economy Club, 1856, p. 617, marginal note). And when contemporary economists urged that certain importations be encouraged they were not usually abandoning the ‘balance of trade’ conception, but believed merely that in the case involved there were special reasons why receiving goods from the country in question would in the long run lead to a favourable balance of trade. (See below, i. 113, n. 1.)
  
  From this it may be seen that when Mandeville stated that imports should never exceed exports (below, i. 116), and when he approved of Turkey being made a favoured nation and warned against trade with nations who insist on being paid only in money, he was following orthodox example. But he had a more than customary appreciation of the interdependence of national interests, and he wished to control the balance of trade not by limiting imports, but by a stimulation of both exports and imports.—For further consideration of Mandeville’s attitude towards commerce, see above, i. xcviii–ciii.

  [a]Benefits 14

  [1]Cf. above, i. c, n. 1.

  [b]we shall] we’ll 14, 23

  [c]and only be] we only shall be 14, 23

  [a]send 14

  [b]&c.] &c, 32

  [1]This Act was the culmination of a whole series of kindred Acts. In 1699 was passed an ‘act to prevent the making or selling buttons made of cloth, serge, drugget, or other stuffs’, the reason given being that ‘the maintenance … of many thousands … depends upon the making of silk, mohair … buttons … [which] silk and mohair … is purchased in Turkey … in exchange for our woollen manufacture, to the great … encouragement thereof’ (Statutes at Large 10 William III, c. 2). Two Acts (Statutes 8 Anne, c. 6, and 4 Geo. I, c. 7) were added in 1710 and 1718 to enforce this. Then, in 1720, Parliament passed an ‘Act for prohibiting the importation of raw silk and mohair yarn of the product or manufacture of Asia, from any ports or places in the Streights or Levant seas, except such ports and places as are within the dominions of the Grand Seignior’(Statutes 6 Geo. I, c. 14). In 1721 (Statutes 7 Geo. I, stat. 1, c. 7) Parliament passed a Bill ‘prohibiting the use and wear of all printed, painted, stained or dyed callicoes’. Finally, the same year (Statutes 7 Geo. I, stat. 1, c. 12), was passed an ‘act … encouraging the consumption of raw silk and mohair yarn, by prohibiting the wearing of buttons and buttonholes made of cloth, serge, or other stuffs’.
  
  There was nothing revolutionary about these statutes. They did not imply any general abandonment of the policy of discountenancing importations in favour of exportations, but merely reflected the view that, in this particular case, a better balance of trade would result from making Turkey a favoured nation (cf. above, i. 109, n. i). Neither does the record of contemporary thought show these laws as signifying any real acceptance of the principle that the commercial prosperity of one country is bound up with that of other nations. Nor, again, do the laws seem to reflect any conscious repudiation of the belief that frugality is best for a nation (cf. above, i. 108, n. 1, and xciv–xcviii). The statutes were apparently not passed as an expression of general principles nor for the sake of trade in general, being, indeed, aimed partly against the East India import trade, the target of so many opponents of widespread commerce. The dominant purpose of the statutes seems to have been to placate the great home woollen industry. As a contemporary pamphlet on the subject put it, ‘… the Woollen and Silk Manufactures … being the Staple of our Trade [the emphasis of the pamphlet is all on wool] … ; it is therefore the common Interest of the whole Kingdom to discourage every other Manufacture … so far as those Manufactures are … inconsistent with the Prosperity of the said British Manufactures of Wooll and Silk’ (Brief State of the Question between the… Callicoes, and the Woollen and Silk Manufacture, 2nd ed., 1719, pp. [5–6]). And, ‘THAT the Importation of Wrought Silks and Printed Callicoes from the East-Indies … has … been found prejudicial to … our Woollen and Silk Manufactures in Great Britain, needs no other Proof than the late Acts of Parliament, which were obtain’d in Consequence of the general Application of the Manufacturers … thro’ the whole Kingdom’ (Brief State, pp. 9–10). That, therefore, the statute of 1721 was one of which Mandeville approved does not show that Parliament enacted it for his reasons.

  [1]The opposition was directed chiefly against the more crucial cognate Bill of 1720. Several ‘powerful and valuable Companies’ protested, among them the dyers of linens and calicoes, the linen-drapers, the London drug importers, and the merchants to Italy (Journals of the House of Commons xix. 296–7, 276, and 269). The ‘Act … made in the Year 1721’, though apparently less contested, was impugned sufficiently to cause a resolution to be drawn up in the House of Lords, after the Bill had passed, which read, in part, ‘We do not think it improbable, considering the mighty Influence the great Companies may have on publick Affairs, but that Attempts may be made, even before the Provisions of the Act [7 Geo. I, stat. 1, c. 7] take place, to repeal it …’ (History and Proceedings of the House of Lords from the Restoration … to the Present Time, ed. 1742–3, iii. 143). The particular ‘Company’ to which Mandeville referred was probably the East India Company. The forbidden calicoes were largely ‘Imported by the East-India Company from India’ (John Asgill, Brief Answer to a Brief State of the Question, between the … Callicoes, and the Woollen and Silk Manufactures, 2nd ed., 1720, pp. 6–7. So, also, A Brief State of the Question between the … Callicoes, and the Woollen and Silk Manufacture, 2nd ed., 1719, p. 9).

  [a]not.] not, 32; this paragraph add. 23

  [b]Country 142

  [c]Bidder 142

  [a]Manufacture 14

  [b]it.] it, 32

  [1]Mandeville was fond of this expression. Cf. Free Thoughts (1729), p. 390, Executions at Tyburn, p. 49, and Fable ii. 309.

  [a]Beastliness] beastliness of 142

  [b]ou 14; our 23

  [c]worst 32

  [d]Campaign 32

  [e]Tockay] Tockay Wine 14, 23

  [a]in om. 32

  [a]requires 14, 23

  [b]Intrepedity 32

  [c]o’ Bed 14, 23

  [1]The Duc de Villars. In spite of a serious illness and a disabled leg, and more than threescore years of age, he managed to head his troops in person, and to beat Prince Eugene decisively at Denair.

  [a](Q.)14

  [b]one 14

  [a]a 142

  [1]The war of the Grand Alliance (1689–97) and the War of the Spanish Succession, begun in 1701 and concluded with the Peace of Utrecht in 1713.

  [b]Month;] Month 32

  [a]the 14

  [1]Fable i. 24.

  [b]further 14–25

  [c]Remarks (M.) and (Q.)] Remark (M.) 14

  [a]its 14–25

  [1]Cf. La Rochefoucauld: ‘Si nous n’avions point d’orgueil, nous ne nous plaindrions pas de celui des autres’ (Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault, maxim 34).

  [a]they say] say they 14–25

  [b]Ambition,] Ambition 14, 32

  [a]his 14

  [b]no om. 32

  [c]were 14

  [a]beholding 14

  [1]The French translator (ed. 1750, i. 166, n.) complains that Mandeville has done the Hottentots an injustice. ‘Ces Peuples,’ he says, ‘après la victoire, ont une humanité & une modération à l’égard des morts, qui ne se rencontrent peut-être chez aucune autre Nation.’ They never, he adds, pick their dead enemy’s pockets or steal his tobacco.

  [a]Whitsuntide 14, 23

  [a]her om. 142

  [b]thence.] thence, 32

  [1]In this and the preceding paragraph there may be some reminiscence of a passage in Sir Dudley North’s Discourses upon Trade (1691), p. 15: ‘The meaner sort seeing their Fellows become rich, and great, are spurr’d up to imitate their Industry. A Tradesman sees his Neighbour keep a Coach, presently all his Endeavours is at work to do the like, and many times is beggered by it; however the extraordinary Application he made, to support his Vanity, was beneficial to the Publick, tho’ not enough to answer his false Measures as to himself.’ Cf. also Nicholas Barbon’s Discourse of Trade (1690), p. 64: ‘Those Expences that most Promote Trade, are in Cloaths and Lodging: In Adorning the Body and the House, There are a Thousand Traders Imploy’d in Cloathing and Decking the Body, and Building, and Furnishing of Houses, for one that is Imploy’d in providing Food.’

  [a]so;] so, 14, 23

  [a]ridiculous] a ridiculous 14–24

  [b]not 23

  [1]Cf. La Rochefoucauld: ‘Nous nous tormentons moins pour devenir heureux que pour faire croire que nous le sommes’ (Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault, maxim 539); and Abbadie: ‘… nôtre âme … cherche … de passer pour heureuse dans l’esprit de la multitude, pour se servir ensuite de cette estime à se tromper elle méme …’ (L’Art de se connoitre soy-meme, The Hague, 1711, ii. 360).

  [a]Remark N add. 23

  [1]Cf. La Rochefoucauld: ‘On fait souvent vanité des passions même les plus criminelles; mais l’envie est une passion timide et honteuse que l’on n’ose jamais avouer’ (maxim 27, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault). See, also Coeffeteau, Tableau des Passions Humaines, Paris, 1620, pp. 368–9: ‘… les hommes sont honteux de confesser ouuertement qu’ils en [by envy] soient trauaillés … ils aiment mieux s’accuser de toutes les autres imperfections. … L’Enuie est donc vne Douleur qui se forme dans nos ames, à cause des prosperités que nous voyons arriuer à nos égaux ou à nos semblables. …’

  [a]which 23

  [a]the 23, 24

  [b]at 23–29

  [a]to add. 24

  [a]first 23, 24

  [b]again;] again 23

  [c]again,] again; 23

  [1]Compare Spinoza’s definition: ‘Spes est inconstans Lætitia, orta ex idea rei futuræ vel præteritæ, de cujus eventu aliquatenus dubitamus’ (Ethica, pt. 3, def. 12). Cf. also Locke, Essay concerning Human Understanding, ed. Fraser, 11. xx. 9, and Hobbes, English Works, ed. Molesworth, iii. 43.

  [2]This passage particularly enraged William Law, who devoted all section 5 of his Remarks upon … the Fable (1724) to an attempted demonstration that certainty is not incompatible with hope. The reason for his agitation will be clear when it is recollected that the words ‘certain hope’ occur in the Order for the Burial of the Dead.

  [1]Cf. La Rochefoucauld: ‘Nous nous consolons aisément des disgrâces de nos amis, lorsqu’elles servent à signaler notre tendresse pour eux’ (maxim 235, in Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault, i. 126). See also maxim 583, which is echoed in Abbadie’s statement that ‘… c’est qu’il y a toûjours dans les disgraces qui leur [friends] arrivent, quelque chose qui ne nous déplait point’ (L’Art de se connoitre soy-meme, The Hague, 1711, ii. 319).

  [1]In the medical vocabulary of the time, ‘Temperament’ or ‘Complexion’ meant that blend of the four ‘humours’, or chief body fluids (blood, phlegm, choler, and melancholy), or of the four related qualities (hot, cold, dry, and moist), the proportions of which, according to the physiology of the day, determined and named a man’s physical and mental disposition. Thus, in choleric, or bilious, people, choler (bile) was dominant; in the sanguine, blood.—‘Complexion’ sometimes also, as perhaps here, was a synonym for ‘humour’.

  [a]Body.] Body, 32

  [a]which it is] which is 24–29, 24 Errata; which is 32. As 24 already has which is the corrigendum must be a misprinted effort to correct 24 to the text of 23

  [a]them] them, 32

  [a]him ;] him, 32

  [b](N.) 14

  [1]See the dialogue called Epicureus (Opera, ed. Leyden, 1703–6, i. 882). Cf. above, i. cvi–cix, for Mandeville’s indebtedness to Erasmus.

  [1]Compare Locke, Essay concerning Human Understanding, ed. Fraser, 11. xxi. 60: ‘For, as to present happiness and misery, when that alone comes into consideration, and the consequences are quite removed, a man never chooses amiss: he knows what best pleases him. …’

  [2]Virgil, Eclogues ii. 65.

  [a]Cemplexions 32

  [b]Tables 32

  [a]religiously 14–29

  [b]his om, 142

  [c]Birth] his Birth 142

  [a]arm’d] is arm’d 29

  [a]Pretences 14–25

  [b]as 14, 23

  [c]Pleasure 14

  [1]Compare Locke: ‘… I have always thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts’ (Essay concerning Human Understanding, ed. Fraser, 1. ii. 3). Cf. above, i. 148, n. 1, and below, i. 315, n. 3.

  [d]never 14, 23

  [2]This same idiom was used by Mandeville in the preface to Typhon.

  [a]a om. 142

  [1]Cf. Saint-Évremond: ‘Sénéque étoit le plus riche homme de l’Empire, & louoit toujours la pauvreté’ (Œuvres, ed. 1753, iii. 27); and Boisguillebert: ‘[Seneca] … traitant du mépris des richesses sur une table d’or’ (Dissertation sur la Nature des Richesses, in Économistes Financiers du XVIIIe Siècle, ed. Daire, 1843, p. 409, n. 1).

  [1]The Franciscans, for example, applied the general monastic vow of poverty so strictly that they were not supposed to allow money even to touch their persons.

  [a]soon be] be soon 142

  [1]In his Origin of Honour (1732) Mandeville returns to his contention of the unreality of virtue in nunneries: ‘It would perhaps be an odious Disquisition, whether, among all the young and middle-aged Women who lead a Monastick Life, and are secluded from the World, there are Any that have, abstract from all other Motives, Religion enough to secure them from the Frailty of the Flesh, if they had an Opportunity to gratify it to their Liking with Impunity. This is certain, that their Superiors, and Those under whose Care these Nuns are, seem not to entertain that Opinion of the Generality of them. They always keep them lock’d up and barr’d …’ (pp. 56–7).

  [b]greater 142

  [c]Evangeliophorus 14, 23

  [2]Erasmus, Opera (Leyden, 1703–6) i. 833, in the colloquy Cyclops, sive Evangeliophorus.
  
  Bluet, in his Enquiry (p. 35, n. n), says, ‘The Reader perhaps will desire to know who this Cyclops Evangeliphorus was, that the Author mentions to Englishmen, as familiarly as he would the Names of Robin Hood, or Sir John Falstaff. He must know then that Cannius and Polyphemus are the two Persons, in one of Erasmus’s Colloquies. This Polyphemus had the Gospel in his Hand, when his Acquaintance met him;and Cannius knowing that his way of Life was not very agreeable to the Precepts of it, tells him in ridicule, that he should not any longer be calledPolyphemus, but Evangeliophorus, pro Polyphemo dicendus est Evangeliophorus, as one before had been called Christophorus. The Colloquy it self (because Polyphemus happens to be the Name of one of the Cyclopes) is entituled, Cyclops, sive Evangeliophorus. Our Author, not content with this, tacks them both together, and calls him, by a small Mistake (excusable enough in the writing so long a Word) Cyclops Evangeliphorus, instead of Evangeliophorus. Words that fill the Mouth very well, and which he seems to have put together for the Edification of those, who, with the old Fellow in Love makes the Man, HONOUR THE SOUND OF GREEK.’
  
  The Enquiry is correct in its citations. It should be noted, however, that the first three editions of the Fable had ‘Evangeliophorus’, and that the table of contents of the Leyden edition (1703–6) of the Opera lists the colloquy as Cyclops Evangeliophorus (i. 627).

  [a]the om. 142

  [a]them 142

  [1]John Eachard, D.D. (1636?–97) was the author of Grounds & Occasions of the Contempt of the Clergy and Religion Enquired into (1670).

  [a]on 14, 23

  [b]will do] does 142

  [1]This is a reference to a booklet called Mrs. Abigail; or an Account of a Female Skirmish between the Wife of a Country Squire, and the Wife of a Doctor in Divinity. Mrs. Abigail is a serving-maid who marries a parson and then makes herself ridiculous by attempting to take precedence over her former mistress. The author ridicules the ‘pretended Quality and Dignity of the Clergy’ through Mrs. Abigail’s insistence on their dignity. The work was dated 20 August 1700, was issued in 1702, and reprinted in 1709. An answer, ‘wherein the Honour of the English Clergy … is … vindicated from … a late Pamphlet called Mrs. Abigail’, appeared in 1703.

  [a]reasonable 14 Errata (ignored in later editions)

  [b]reasonable 23–32

  [c]all the Symptoms] a great share 14, 23

  [1]1 Cor. vii. 9.

  [a]Martyrdom] a Martyrdom 142

  [b]has not Strength … to] can’t 14, 23

  [c]we give] be given 142

  [a]could 142

  [a]a-foot] on foot 142

  [1]The places mentioned and the detail of the six horses show Mandeville to be referring specifically to the Archbishop of Canterbury.

  [b]a add. 25

  [a]Gown 142

  [b]Those pageant Ornaments … but add. 24

  [c]their own Appetites] themselves 14

  [a]are om. 32

  [1]Plutarch, from whom Mandeville probably derived his information (see below, i. 224, n. 1), in his life of Marcus Cato writes that he had five servants (Dryden’s Plutarch’s Lives ed. 1683, ii. 549).

  [2]See Lucan, Pharsalia ix. 498–510.

  [1]Charles XII (reigned 1697–1718), largely because of his desire for revenge on Augustus of Poland, repeatedly refused the advantageous offers of peace extorted by his extraordinary successes and still available even after his defeat by Peter the Great at Pultowa in 1709. From then till 1714, when Mandeville was writing, Charles was in Turkey, whence he returned late that year to direct the war Sweden had faithfully maintained in his absence.

  [a]This note add. 23

  [1]Literally quoted, except for the change of one unimportant word, from Bayle’s Miscellaneous Reflections (1708) ii. 381, and ultimately from the Essais (Bordeaux, 1906–20, ii. 146).
  
  A parallel is found in Mandeville’s Free Thoughts (1729), p. 3: ‘… several are persuaded, that they believe what … they believe not, and this only for want of knowing what it really is to believe’—practically the text of the first chapter in the Free Thoughts. Cf. also Daniel Dyke, Mystery of Selfe-Deceiving (1642), p. 38: ‘… we deceive even our selves, sometimes together with, sometimes againe without deceiving others besides’; Abbadie, L’Art de se connoitre soy-meme (The Hague, 1711) ii. 233: ‘Nous commençons par nous tromper nous-mêmes, & aprés cela nous trompons les autres. …’ Similar statements are made by Charron (De la Sagesse, bk. 2, ch. 1, opening), La Rochefoucauld (maxim 516, Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault), Nicole (De la Connoissance de soi-même, in Essais de Morale, vol. 3), and François Lamy (De la Connoissance de soi mesme, ed. 1694–8, iii. 439-40).

  [a]than 14

  [2]See, for example, §§ 135 to 138, and especially § 136, commencing, ‘YOU may call Man a reasonable Creature, as long as you please: still it’s true, he hardly ever acts by fixt Principles’. The gist of Bayle’s opinion is found in § 138: ‘… That Man is not determin’d in his Actions by general Notices, or Views of his Understanding, but by the present reigning Passion of his Heart.’ Cf. above, i. xlii–xlv and ciii–cv.
  
  Other writers known certainly or possibly to Mandeville make similar statements. Sir Thomas Browne said, ‘… the practice of men holds not an equal pace, yea and often runs counter to their theory …’ (Works, ed. Wilkin, 1852, ii. 409, in Religio Medici). Spinoza wrote, ‘… quod Mentis decreta nihil sint præter ipsos appetitus … Nam unusquisque ex suo affectu omnia moderatur …’ (Ethica, pt. 3, prop. 2, scholium; cf. also pt. 4, prop. 14, and Tractatus Politicus i. 5). Locke has, ‘Probabilities which cross men’s appetites and prevailing passions run the same fate. Let ever so much probability hang on one side of a covetous man’s reasoning, and money on the other; it is easy to foresee which will outweigh. … Quod volumus facile credimus …’ (Essay concerning Human Understanding iv. xx. 12). Shaftesbury wrote, ‘If in many particular cases, where favour and affection prevail, it be found so easy a thing with us to impose upon ourselves; it cannot surely be very hard to do it where … our highest interest is concerned’ (Characteristics, ed. Robertson, 1900, ii. 219). Cf. also Hobbes, English Works, ed. Molesworth, iii. 91. For a treatment of the background of Mandeville’s anti-rationalism see above, i. lxxviii–lxxxvii.

  [a]even om. 29

  [b]them 14–24

  [a](O) 14

  [b]to add. 23

  [a]furthest 141, 23–25

  [b]now are] are now 142

  [1]King James’s College at Chelsea, founded in 1610 as a religious seminary, failed financially and was abandoned. On its site was erected Chelsea Hospital, one of the most successful works of Sir Christopher Wren, which is still known in the neighbourhood as ‘The College’, and it is to this and not the original institution that Mandeville refers.

  [1]Of this erstwhile palace Dr. Johnson, too, remarked (Boswell’s Life, ed. Hill, 1887, i. 460) ‘that the structure of Greenwich hospital was too magnificent for a place of charity. …’

  [a]or 32

  [b]directs 14–25

  [c]a Funeral … made add. 23

  [d]it is] is it 14

  [1]Cf. below, i. 212, n. 1.

  [a]extirpation 14,23

  [1]In 1513 there was passed a statute freeing surgeons from jury-duty. They were not so freed, however, because deemed unfit for the task, but because ‘there be so small number of the said fellowship of the craft and mystery of surgeons, in regard of the great multitude of patients that be, and daily chance, and infortune happeneth and increaseth in the foresaid city of London, and that many of the King’s liege people suddenly wounded and hurt, for default of help in time to them to be shewed, perish . . . by occasion that … [the surgeons] have been compelled to attend upon … juries …’ (Statutes at Large 5 Henry VIII, c. 6).
  
  As for the exclusion of butchers, there is not, nor ever was, such a law in England. Mandeville may have been misled by current prejudice: it was, possibly, the custom to challenge surgeons or butchers proposed as jurymen, under the supposition that they had become callous; and this may have become so current a custom that it was confused with law. Mandeville’s error must have been a common one, as, otherwise, it seems that his adversaries would have made capital of it. Swift, indeed, made the same mistake in 1706 (see Prose Works, ed. Temple Scott, i. 277), and Locke made a similar error in 1693 (Works, ed. 1823, ix. 112).

  [a]a om. 32

  [b]the Countenance … Beast] his countenance 14

  [a]them 14, 23

  [b]a add. 24

  [a]belongs 14

  [1]Compare Montaigne in the Apologie de Raimond Sebond: ‘… la science de nous entredesfaire & entretuer, de ruiner & perdre nostre propre espece, il semble qu’elle n’a pas beaucoup dequoy se faire desirer aux bestes qui ne l’ont pas:

  • quando leoni
  • Fortior eripuit vitam leo? …’
  • [Juvenal, Satires xv. 160–1] (Essais, Bordeaux, 1906–20, ii. 187). Cf. also Rochester, Satyr against Man:
  • Prest by Necessity, they [animals] kill for food;
  • Man undoes man, to do himself no good.
  • With Teeth, and Claws, by Nature arm’d, they Hunt,
  • Natures allowance, to supply their want:
  • But man with Smiles, Embraces, Friendships, Praise,
  • Inhumanly, his fellows life betrayes;
  • With voluntary pains, works his distress;
  • Not through Necessity, but Wantonness.

  Mandeville cited this very poem (see below, i. 219, n. 1).

  [a]worse 14

  [1]The title-page of Hobbes’s Leviathan (ed. 1651) shows the picture of a colossus formed of minute human figures.

  [1]Cf. La Fontaine: ‘La raison du plus fort est toujours la meilleure …’ (Le Loup et l’Agneau, line 1).

  [2]Mandeville explains his admiration of the lion’s structure in Fable ii. 233–4.

  [a]as soon as … can] what Mortal can, as soon as the wide Wound is made, and the Jugulars are cut asunder, 14

  [1]Mandeville had originally held the Cartesian hypothesis that animals are feelingless automata. His college dissertation Disputatio Philosophica De Brutorum Operationibus (1689) was based on this, and his Disputatio Medica de Chylosi Vitiata (1691) had upheld the thesis ‘Bruta non sentiunt’ (p. [12]). In the Fable, however, he has adopted instead the position of Gassendi (which he had attacked in the Disputatio Philosophica, sign. A3v, that animals do feel; cf. F. Bernier’s Abregé de la Philosophie de Gassendi (Lyons, 1684) vi. 247–59.
  
  That animals feel had been held also by La Fontaine, whom Mandeville had translated (see Fables, bk. 9, ‘Discours à Madame de la Sablière’), by Spinoza, whom he may have read (see Ethica, pt. 3, prop. 57, scholium; cf. above, i. cxi, n. 1), and by Bayle (Oeuvres Diverses, The Hague, 1727–31, iv. 431). An illuminating sketch of the background of the controversy over animal automatism is given in Bayle’s Nouvelles de la République des Lettres for March 1684, art. 2, and in his Dictionary, articles ‘Pereira’ and ‘Rorarius’.—For further information on this and related matters see above, i. 44, n. 2, and below, ii. 139, n. 1, and 166, n. 1.

  [b](P) 14

  [a]Estate, so] Estate. So 14, 29, 32; Estate, So 23–28. When Estate. So was corrected to Estate, so in 23, the compositor evidently forgot to make the corresponding change in capitalization.

  [1]Cf. D’Avenant, Political and Commercial Works (1771) i. 390–1: ‘Kingdoms grown rich by traffic, will unavoidably enter into a plentiful way of living. … We in England are not tied to the same strict rules of parsimony, as our rivals in trade, the Dutch. … The ordinary charges of their government in time of peace, what for keeping out the sea, payment of interest-money for 25 millions, and other expences, amount per ann. to near 4 millions, which is a vast sum for so small a country; so that they are continually forced, in a manner, to pump for life, and nothing can support them but the strictest thrift and œconomy imaginable. …’ With this passage compare also Fable i. 185–8.

  [a]them 14–32; him 24 Errata

  [b]is 14

  [c]’em 14–29

  [a]this 14

  [1]Their political coalition—the Union of Utrecht—did not occur till somewhat after the period Mandeville implies. Before the Union in 1579, Dutch cooperation against Spain was simply one of common action and embraced all the seventeen provinces.

  [a]History.] History, 32

  [b]the add. 23

  [2]The sack of Antwerp in 1576 was thus termed.

  [b]Reason 142

  [c]further improve our] keep up the Price of 14

  [d]they 14

  [a]they] that they 29

  [a]part 14

  [b]since] ever since 14

  [c]it add. 23

  [1]It was then that the unprepared Dutch were called upon to face the combined forces of England and of Louis XIV.

  [d]Burthen … lies] Burden lies of all Excises and Impositions 14

  [2]The common view that wealth depends upon frugality and does not necessarily lead to luxury found a spokesman in Temple, who, in his Observations upon … the Netherlands (Works, ed. 1814, i. 175–8), used the Dutch to prove his points. The case of the Netherlands, therefore, had to be dealt with if Mandeville was successfully to oppose the current opinion, and Remark Q is largely the result of this need. On this matter see Morize, L’Apologie du Luxe (1909), pp. 102–6.

  [a]Exccises 32

  [b]such add. 23

  [c]up 14, 23

  [a](what …) that] that (which is yet impossible) 14

  [b]should 14

  [a]Remainder of paragraph add. 23

  [1]To this and similar passages in the Fable there is an interesting parallel in La Bruyère’s Caractères (Œuvres, ed. Servois, 1865–78, ii. 275): ‘Mais si les hommes abondent de biens, et que nul ne soit dans le cas de vivre par son travail, qui transportera d’une région à une autre les lingots ou les choses échangées? qui mettra des vaisseaux en mer? qui se chargera de les conduire? … S’il n’y a plus de besoins, il n’y a plus d’arts, plus de sciences, plus d’invention, plus de mécanique.’

  [b]whoever 23

  [c]Labour 23

  [a]to it add. 23

  [1]See Observations upon the . . . Netherlandsin Works of Sir William Temple(1814) i. 165.

  [b]powerfully add. 23

  [c]the labouring add. 23

  [a]there add. 23

  [2]Although, as he states, his position was not the accepted one, yet, in his use of Spain as an example of the dangers of trusting too much to bullion, Mandeville had had numerous predecessors—among them Lewes Roberts’s Treasure of Traffike or a Discourse of Forraigne Trade, 1641 (Select Collection of Early English Tracts on Commerce, ed. Political Economy Club, 1856, pp. 68–9), Britannia Languens, or a Discourse of Trade, 1680 (Select Collection, pp. 300 and 390–1), Petty’s Quantulumcunque concerning Money, 1682 (in the answers to queries 21, 22, and 23), and D’Avenant’s Discourse on the East-India Trade (Political and Commercial Works, ed. 1771, ii. 108). North’s Discourses upon Trade, ed. 1691, pref., p. [xi], while not mentioning Spain, had laid down the proposition ‘That Money is a Merchandize, whereof there may be a glut, as well as a scarcity’. To these various attempts at showing the evil of prohibiting the export of bullion, however, I note no verbal parallels in the Fable.

  [3]Mandeville is quoting, as Bluet points out (Enquiry, pp. 56–8), a translation of the Idea de un Príncipe of Diego de Saavedra Fajardo (1584–1648) by Sir J. A. Astry—The Royal Politician Represented in One Hundred Emblems, 1700. Mandeville is citing especially the sixty-ninth Emblem, ii. 151 sqq.

  [1]Louis XI was never either at Toledo or the Holy Land. Saavedra Fajardo as correctly translated by Astry said merely, ‘Lewis King of France’ (Royal Politician ii. 157). (The printer may have misread Mandeville’s roman numerals.) During the reign (1126–57) of Alfonzo the Emperor (Saavedra Fajardo identifies him) there were two kings of France called Louis—Louis VI and VII. Saavedra Fajardo probably referred to the latter, who made a pilgrimage to the shrine at Compostela of Iago, the patron saint of Spain, and also took part in the second crusade.

  [a]a add. 23

  [2]Alfonzo III (reigned 1158–1214), commonly known as Alfonzo VIII, contrived a coalition against the Moors to which Innocent III granted the privileges of a crusade.

  [3]In Free Thoughts (1729), p. 270, Mandeville again referred to ‘the Spaniard’s own Confession’. I do not find this ‘Confession’ in the Royal Politician or in de Solis, whom Mandeville might be thought to have had in mind (see below, ii. 277, n. 2).

  [1]The paragraph just concluded is a paraphrase of Saavedra Fajardo’s Royal Politician ii. 157–9.

  [1]Cf. Hobbes (English Works, ed. Molesworth, iii. 232, in Leviathan): ‘The Nutrition of a commonwealth consisteth, in the plenty, and distribution of materials conducing to life … plenty dependeth, next to God’s favour, merely on the labour and industry of men’; Petty (Economic Writings, ed. Hull, i. 68): ‘… Labour is the Father and active principle of Wealth …’; Locke (Of Civil Government 11. v. 40): ‘… if we will rightly estimate things as they come to our use, and cast up the several expenses about them, what in them is purely owing to nature, and what to labour, we shall find, that in most of them ninety-nine hundredths are wholly to be put on the account of labour’; Child (New Discourses of Trade, ed. 1694, pref., sign. [A 6v]): ‘It is multitudes of People, and good Laws, such as cause an encrease of People, which principally Enrich any Country …’; D’Avenant (Works, ed. 1771, i. 354): ‘… the real and effective riches of a country is its native product’; John Bellers (Essays about the Poor, ed. 1699, p. 12): ‘Land and Labour are the Foundation of Riches. …’ In Spectator no. 232 (by Hughes?) Sir Andrew Freeport is made to say, ‘The goods which we export are indeed the product of the lands, but much the greatest part of their value is the labour of the people. …’

  [1]Cf. Sully (Économies Royales, ed. Chailley, Paris, n.d. [Guillaumin], p. 96: ‘… le labourage et pastourage estoient les deux mamelles dont la France estoit alimentée, et les vrayes mines et tresors du Perou.’

  [a](Q) 14

  [2]In his Origin of Honour (1732) Mandeville wrote:
  
  ‘Hor. The Upshot is I find, that Honour is of the same Origin with Virtue.
  
  ‘Cleo. But the Invention of Honour, as a Principle, is of a much later Date; and I look upon it as the greater Atchievement by far. It was an Improvement in the Art of Flattery, by which the Excellency of our Species is raised to such a Height, that it becomes the Object of our own Adoration, and Man is taught in good Earnest to worship himself.
  
  ‘Hor. But granting you, that both Virtue and Honour are of Human Contrivance, why do you look upon the Invention of the One to be a greater Atchievement than that of the other ?
  
  ‘Cleo. Because the One is more skilfully adapted to our inward Make. Men are better paid for their Adherence to Honour, than they are for their Adherence to Virtue…’ (pp. 42–3).

  [a]their 14–25

  [1]Was Mandeville perhaps aiming his argument specifically against Descartes’s Passions de l’Âme, art. 45: ‘Ainsi, pour exciter en soy la hardiesse & oster la peur, il … faut s’appliquer à considerer les raisons, les objets, ou les exemples, qui persuadent que le peril n’est pas grand …’? Descartes’s analysis was very much opposed to Mandeville’s; see, for instance, articles 48 and 49, and art. 50, where Descartes held ‘Qu’il n’y a point d’ame si foible, qu’elle ne puisse, estant bien conduite, acquerir un pouvoir absolu sur ses passions’.

  [1]The conception that animals owe their bravery to anger is in Aristotle (see Nicom. Ethics 111. viii. 8).

  [a]obnoxious 14, 23

  [b]with 14

  [c]to consult … Method] in a different manner to act toward 14

  [1]Hobbes had identified anger and ‘sudden courage’ (English Works, ed. Molesworth, iv. 42), and Shaftesbury had impugned this identification in the Characteristics, ed. Robertson, 1900, i. 79–80. Montaigne applied the Aristotelian definition of animal courage (see above, i. 205, n. 1) to men (Essais, Bordeaux, 1906–20, ii. 317). See also Charron, De la Sagesse, bk. 3, ch. 19.

  [a]how civiliz’d … may] as civiliz’d as Men can 14

  [1]Horace, Epistles 1. ii. 62.

  [a]will 142

  [b]in 142

  [c]whom add. 24

  [a]becomes 14, 23

  [b]the 142

  [1]Cf. Aristotle, Nicom. Ethics 111. vii. 11.

  [1]This whole passage concerning Lucretia is a paraphrase of Bayle’s Miscellaneous Reflections (1708) ii. 371–2. See also Fontenelle, Dialogues des Morts, the dialogue between Lucretia and Barbe Plomberge.

  [2]‘La passion qui est cachée dans le cœur des Braves,’ wrote Esprit,’ ‘c’est l’envie d’établir leur réputation …’ (La Fawseté des Vertus Humaines, ed. 1678, ii. 165; cf. vol. 2, ch. 10, and i. 522). La Rochefoucauld expressed the same idea (Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault, maxim 215).

  [3]Cf. Origin of Honour, p. 159: ‘No body fights heartily, who believes himself to be in the wrong. …’

  [a]Death,] Death 32

  [a]this 14–24

  [b]the 142

  [1]The physiology of the day conceived the nervous, vital forces as ‘fluids’ circulating through brain and body—the so-called ‘spirits’ (animal, natural, or vital), and, following out this materialistic confusion of thought, attributed the degree of one’s vitality to the vigour and abundance of the ‘spirits’. Mandeville elsewhere (in his Treatise, ed. 1730, p. 163) recognized this as possibly only a convenient hypothesis.—Solids, of course, would be the ordinary body structures.

  [1]Maxim 220, Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault.

  [a]and 14

  [b]ghastly 23–29

  [c]with all … and] mangled [mangled, 142] Carcasses, with all the various Scenes of 14

  [a]can 14

  [1]Cf. below, ii. 107, n. 1

  [b]horrid 141, 23; horid 142

  [2]Spaccio della Bestia Trionfante, or, in English, The Expulsion of the Savage Beast, published in 1584, consisted of three allegorical dialogues of anti-Christian tone. Budgell gave an account of this book in Spectator no. 389, for 27 May 1712.

  [3]Bayle, from whose Miscellaneous Reflections (ed. 1708, ii. 376–9) Mandeville has apparently taken his information about Vanini, called him ‘the detestable Vannini’ (Miscellaneous Reflections ii. 356).
  
  It is interesting to note that Vanini himself anticipated Mandeville’s analysis of the psychology of martyrs:
  
  ‘At ego negabam illi, imbecilles esse Christianorum animos quinimo omnium fortissimos, vt gloriosa Martyrum certamina vbique testantur. Ille verò blasphæmus referebat hæc ad validam imaginatiuæ facultatem, & honoris cupedias, nec non ad humorem hippocondriacum. addebat in quacunque Religione licet absurdissima, vt Turcarum, Indorum, & nostri sæculi Hæreticorum, adesse infinitum propemodum stultorum numerum, qui pro patriæ Religionis tutela vltro se tormentis obijcerint …’ (De Admirandis Naturæ … Arcanis, Paris, 1616, pp. 356–7). St. Augustine said: ‘… moritur charitas … confitetur nomen Christi, ducit martyrium; confitetur et superbia, ducit et martyrium’ (Epist. Joannes ad Parthos viii. iv. 9, in Migne’s Patrologia Latina xxxv. 2041). Nicole paraphrased Augustine in Essais de Morale (1714) iii. 163.

  [1]According to the Historiarum Galliæ ab Excessu Henrici IV (ed. Toulouse, 1643, p. 209) by G. B. Gramont [Gramondus], whose father, by the author’s own statement (p. 211), was Dean of the Parliament of Toulouse which condemned Vanini, and an eye-witness of his execution, the sentence was: ‘Illi [Christ] in extremis præ timore imbellis sudor, ego imperterritus morior.’

  [2]Cf. Rycaut, Present State of the Ottoman Empire (1687), p. 64. Bluet, however, demonstrates (Enquiry, p. 128, n.), by alining parallel passages, that Mandeville was not drawing directly from Rycaut, but from Rycaut as cited in Bayle’s Miscellaneous Reflections (see ed. 1708, ii. 379), for Mandeville quotes Bayle verbatim, as he does not do with Rycaut.

  [a]instead of Valour … himself], and even by himself be mistaken for a Principle of Valour 14

  [b]without laughing … Finery] upon a Man accoutred with so much paultry Gaudiness and affected Finery, without laughing 14

  [a]in add. 23

  [b]Bethlem 14

  [1]The recruiting sergeant in Farquhar’s play of The Recruiting Officer (see especially 1. i), who enlists men through the very wiles that Mandeville mentions.

  [c]The 32

  [d]there 24–32; they 24 Errata

  [1]This reference to survivals of the extravagant novels of an earlier period, such as Amadis of Gaul, is only one of various scornful references by Mandeville to romantic literature. See, for example, Mandeville’s The Virgin Unmask’d (1724), p. 131, where a character says for him, ‘. . . . the reading of Romances has too much spoil’d your Judgement’, and his Origin of Honour, pp. 48 and 90–1.

  [a]grow 14–25

  [b]it is] is it 14

  [c]it add. 23

  [d]beholding 14

  [a]which 14, 23

  [1]See A Satyr against Mankind. This verse satire contains matter akin to Mandeville’s, Rochester, too, deriving the so-called good qualities from bad ones:

  • Base fear, the source, whence his best passions came,
  • His boasted Honor, and his dear bought Fame:
  • The Lust of Pow’r, to which he’s such a slave,
  • And for the which alone, he dares be brave:
  • To which his various projects are design’d,
  • Which makes him Generous, Affable and Kind. …
  • Meerly for safety, after fame they thirst,
  • For all men would be Cowards if they durst.

  [1]During the time of the Republic the Raadpensionaris of the province of Holland held an extraordinary variety of offices, including that of Chairman of the Estates of Holland and—in modern terms—of President of the Estates General, Prime Minister, and Foreign Minister of the Republic.

  [1]Mandeville’s thesis that honour has two aspects, one according to the social, the other according to the moral law, had been anticipated by Bayle and Locke. Bayle argued, ‘By a Man of Courage, the World understands one extremely nice in the Point of Honor, who can’t bear the least Affront, who revenges, swift as Lightning, and at the hazard of his Life, the least disrespect. … A Man must be out of his Wits to say, the Counsels or Precepts ofJesus Christ bestow this Spirit …’ (Miscellaneous Reflections, ed. 1708, i. 283; cf. Réponse aux Questions d’un Provincial, pt. 3, ch. 28). And Locke wrote, ‘Thus the challenging and fighting with a man, as it is a certain positive mode, or particular sort of action, by particular ideas, distinguished from all others, is called duelling: which, when considered in relation to the law of God, will deserve the name of sin, to the law of fashion, in some countries, valour and virtue; and to the municipal laws of some governments, a capital crime’ (Essay concerning Human Understanding 11. xxviii. 15).—The opposition between ‘honour’ and Christianity is the central thought of Mandeville’s Origin of Honour.

  [a](R) 14

  [a]and add. 23

  [1]The above paragraph and the preceding one, beginning with ‘was not without Mystery’, is quoted verbatim from Dryden’s Plutarch (see ed. 1683, i. 158–9), in the ‘Life of Lycurgus’.—Hutcheson seems to have noticed this when he spoke of Mandeville’s ‘pert evidences of immense tritical erudition; which no mortal could have known, without having spent several years at a Latin school, and reading Plutarch’s Lives Englished by several hands’ (Reflections upon Laughter, and Remarks upon the Fable of the Bees, Glasgow, 1750, p. 72).

  [b]that of the] those 14

  [c]Weavers add. 23

  [d]Silks 14, 23

  [2]See Fable i. 34.

  [3]A workman who makes something (e.g., of metal) flat. Mandeville’s use of the word in this sense is the earliest cited in the Oxford English Dictionary (sb.2 1).

  [4]One who prepares bars for the manufacture of wire. The only instance of use of the word in this sense given in the Oxford English Dictionary (Barman 2) is this of Mandeville.

  [a]Remark T add. 23

  [a]the] that the 23

  [b]would 23–25

  [a]poorly] but poorly 23

  [a]Immortality 32

  [1]La Rochefoucauld, maxim (3 Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault, i. 32): ‘Quelque découverte que l’on ait faite dans le pays de l’amour-propre, il y reste encore bien des terres inconnues.’

  [a]hurt] hurt, 28–32

  [b]the last] this 23

  [2]Compare Mandeville’s later statement (Fable i. 409) that ‘The first Impression … in 1714, was never carpt at, or publickly taken notice of. …’ I know of no reference to the Fable earlier than 1723.

  [1]Cf. Jacques Esprit’s La Fausseté des Vertus Humaines (Paris, 1678) i. 100, which, after arguing that vicious conduct is essential to men for worldly success, retorted that ‘il n’est pas necessaire de s’agrandir, & il est necessaire d’être droit, veritable & fidele’.

  [a]Professions 32

  [1]Cf. Bayle, Continuation des Pensées Diverses, § 124, last paragraph.

  [a]be soon] soon be 23–29

  [b]very scarce . . . wanted] scarce, if not almost useless 23

  [1]This doctrine, rendered of great significance by the rebellions against Charles I and James II, that a king, as sovereign by divine right, is entitled to unquestioned and unlimited obedience, no matter how outrageous his demands, is attacked at length in Mandeville’s Free Thoughts (1729), pp. 335–54.

  [a]a add. 24

  [2]That virtue consists in following nature, and that ‘to be well affected towards the public interest and one’s own is not only consistent but inseparable’ (Characteristics, ed. Robertson, 1900, i. 282), were fundamental beliefs of Shaftesbury. However, by ‘nature’ he meant the scheme of the universe, to follow which, therefore, involved the subjection of oneself to its plan; and the agreement of one’s interest with that of the community was attained only by self-discipline. Shaftesbury, consequently, although he believed, as Mandeville said, that virtue may sometimes be achieved without mortifying one’s desires, yet, contrary to Mandeville’s implication, placed his emphasis not on self-indulgence, but self-discipline: he thought self-denial usually essential—the most virtuous action, indeed, being the result of the greatest self-denial (cf. Characteristics i. 256). See above, i. lxxiii-lxxv.

  [a]as] as is 23–29

  [a]made 23–29

  [a]must 32

  [1]The asceticism satirized by Mandeville in his parable of small beer is well exemplified in Mme Périer’s Vie de Pascal: ‘… quand la nécessité le [Pascal] contraignait à faire quelque chose qui pouvait lui donner quelque satisfaction, il avait une addresse merveilleuse pour en détourner son esprit, afin qu’il n’y prît point de part: par example, ses continuelles maladies l’obligeant de se nourrir délicatement, il avait un soin très-grand de ne point goûter ce qu’il mangeait …’ (in Pensées de Pascal, Paris, 1877, p. xix). Law’s Serious Call, whose great vogue vouches for its representativeness, is dominated by the same attitude (cf. ed. 1729, pp. 34, 104, and 110–11). Compare 1 Cor. x. 31.

  [a](S) 14

  [1]See Cleomenes 11. ii.

  [a]to 14, 23

  [a]an Eye] a Look 14

  [a]expedition 14; Expedition 23

  [b]Pocket-Boat 142

  [a]This 14–29

  [a]a] for a 25–32

  [b]Hand 23, 24

  [a]Persons 14

  [b]Profit 142

  [a](T) 14

  [b]Rigour 14

  [1]For this anecdote of the Spartan king of the fifth century b.c., known both as Agis II and Agis I, see Dryden’s Plutarch, the ‘Life of Lycurgus’, ed. 1683, i. 155. Cf. above, i. 224, n. 1. The polemarchi were the military leaders. They had civil functions also and ranked in importance next to the king.

  [2]For the cited account, see Dryden’s Plutarch, ed. 1683, i. 170–1.

  [1]Just as, in his defence of luxury, Mandeville had to dispose of the case of Holland (see above, i. 189, n. 2), so he had to deal with that of Sparta. But, although he could argue that the Dutch were frugal only because of necessity, it was much more difficult to reason thus about the Spartans. Mandeville’s master, Bayle, had called attention to the wealth of the Spartans and had concluded that, therefore, their frugality was genuine and admirable (Réponse aux Questions d’un Provincial, pt. 1, ch. 11). This is probably the reason why Mandeville, in this Remark, abandoned temporarily his contention of no ‘National Frugality without a National Necessity’ (Fable i. 183), and urged instead the undesirability of the Spartan civilization.

  [a]Man 14

  [b](N) 14

  [c](V) 14

  [d]T’ enjoy] To enjoy 29

  [e]has] as has 14

  [a]Book ends here 14, adding FINIS

  [†]P. 212, 213. First Edit. 175, 176.

  [*]P. 215. First Edit. 178.

  [‡]P. 106. First Edit. 77.

  [†]P. 116. First Edit. 87.

  [*]P. 115, 116. First Edit 86, 87.

  [a]having 32

  [b]Yeas 32

  [a]as om. 32

  [b]of 23, 24

  [c]Saturnine] a Saturnine 23–25

  [a]turn 23–29

• Back to Top

  4: Session IIIa: Bernard Mandeville on the Origin of Moral Virtue

  This selection from Mandeville will enable us to discuss his disagreements with Shaftesbury directly on the subject of virtue.

  Bernard Mandeville, The Fable of the Bees or Private Vices, Publick Benefits, 2 vols. With a Commentary Critical, Historical, and Explanatory by F.B. Kaye (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 1988). Vol. 1. Chapter: [27]AN ENQUIRY Into the ORIGIN of MORAL VIRTUE.

  Accessed from oll.libertyfund.org/title/846/66866 on 2008-11-14

  The copyright to this edition, in both print and electronic forms, is held by Liberty Fund, Inc.

  ---

  [27]AN ENQUIRY Into the ORIGIN of MORAL VIRTUE.

  ALL untaught Animals are only sollicitous of pleasing themselves, and naturally follow the bent of their own Inclinations, without considering the good or harm that from their being pleased will accrue to others. This is the Reason, that in the wild State of Nature those creatures are fittest to live peaceably together in great Numbers, that discover the least of Understanding, and have the fewest Appetites to gratify; and consequently no Species of Animals is, without the Curb of Government, less capable of agreeing long together in Mul-[28]titudes than that of Man; yet such are his Qualities, whether good or bad, I shall not determine, that no Creature besides himself can ever be made sociable: But being an ex-traordinary selfish and headstrong, as well as cunning Animal, however he may be subdued by superior Strength, it is impossible by Force alone to make him tractable, and receive the Improvements he is capable of.

  The Chief Thing, therefore, which Lawgivers and other wise Men, that have laboured for the Establishment of Society, have endeavour’d, has been to make the People they were to govern, believe, that it was more beneficial for every Body to conquer than indulge his Appetites, and much better to mind the Publick than what seem’d his private Interest. As this has always been a very difficult Task, so no Wit or Eloquence has been left untried to compass it; and the Moralists and Philosophers of all Ages employed their utmost Skill to prove the Truth of so useful an Assertion. But whether Mankind would have ever a believ’d it or not, it is not likely that any Body could have persuaded them to disapprove of their natural Inclinations, or prefer the good of others to their own, if at the same time he had not shew’d them an Equivalent to be enjoy’d as a Reward for the Violence, which by so doing they of necessity must commit upon themselves. Those that have undertaken to civilize Mankind, were not igno-[29]rant of this; but being unable to give so many real Rewards as would satisfy all Persons for every individual Action, they were forc’d to contrive an imaginary one, that as a general Equivalent for the trouble of Self-denial should serve on all Occasions, and without costing any thing either to themselves or others, be yet a most acceptable Recompense to the Receivers.

  They thoroughly examin’d all the Strength and Frailties of our Nature, and observing that none were either so savage as not to be charm’d with Praise, or so despicable as patiently to bear Contempt, justly concluded, that Flattery must be the most powerful Argument that could be used to Human Creatures. Making use of this bewitching Engine, they extoll’d the Excellency of our Nature above other Animals, and setting forth with unbounded Praises the Wonders of our Sagacity and Vastness of Understanding, bestow’d a thousand Encomiums on the Rationality of our Souls, by the Help of which we were capable of performing the most noble Atchievements. Having by this artful way of Flattery insinuated themselves into the Hearts of Men, they began to instruct them in the Notions of Honour and Shame; representing the one as the worst of all Evils, and the other as the highest Good to which Mortals could aspire: Which being done, they laid before them how unbecoming it was[30] the Dignity of such sublime Creatures to be sollicitous about gratifying those Appetites, which they had in common with Brutes, and at the same time unmindful of those higher Qualities that gave them the preeminence over all visible Beings. They indeed confess’d, that those impulses of Nature were very pressing; that it was troublesome to resist, and very difficult wholly to subdue them. But this they only used as an Argument to demonstrate, how glorious the Conquest of them was on the one hand, and how scandalous on the other not to attempt it.

  To introduce, moreover, an Emulation amongst Men, they divided the whole Species into a two Classes, vastly differing from one another: The one consisted of abject, low-minded People, that always hunting after immediate Enjoyment, were wholly incapable of Self-denial, and without regard to the good of others, had no higher Aim than their private Advantage; such as being enslaved by Voluptuousness, yielded without Resistance to every gross desire, and madeb no use of their Rational Faculties but to heighten their Sensual Pleasure.c These vile grov’ling Wretches, they said, were the Dross of their Kind, and having only the Shape of Men, differ’d from Brutes in nothing but their outward Figure. But the other Class was made up of lofty high-spirited Creatures, that free from sordid Selfishness, esteem’d the Improvements of the Mind to be their fairest[31] Possessions; and setting a true value upon themselves, took no Delight but in embellishing that Part in which their Excellency consisted; such as despising whatever they had in common with irrational Creatures, opposed by the Help of Reason their most violent Inclinations; and making a continual War with themselves to promote the Peace of others, aim’d at no less than the Publick Welfare and the Conquest of their own Passion.a

  • Fortior est qui se quàm qui fortissima Vincit
  • Mœnia — — — — 1

  These they call’d the true Representatives of their sublime Species, exceeding in worth the first Class by more degrees, than that it self was superior to the Beasts of the Field.

  As in all Animals that are not too imperfect to discover Pride, we find, that the finest and such as are the most beautiful and valuable of their kind, have generally the greatest Share of it; so in Man, the most perfect of Animals,2 it is so inseparable from his very Essence (how cunningly soever some may learn to hide or disguise it) that without it the Compound he is made of would want one of the chiefest Ingredients: Which, if we consider, it is hardly to be doubted but Lessons and Remonstrances, so skilfully adapted to the good Opinion Man has of himself, as those I have mentioned, must, if scatter’d amongst [32]a Multitude not only gain the assent of most of them, as to the Speculative part, but likewise induce several, especially the fiercest, most resolute, and best among them, to endure a thousand Inconveniences, and undergo as many Hardships, that they may have the pleasure of counting themselves Men of the second Class, and consequently appropriating to themselves all the Excellences they have heard of it.

  From what has been said, we ought to expect in the first Place that the Heroes who took such extraordinary Pains to master some of their natural Appetites, and preferr’d the good of others to any visible Interest of their own, would not recedea an Inch from the fine Notions they had receiv’d concerning the Dignity of Rational Creatures; and having ever the Authority of the Government on their side, with all imaginable Vigour assert the esteem that was due to those of the second Class, as well as their Superiority over the rest of their kind. In the second, that those who wanted a sufficient Stock of either Pride or Resolution to buoy them up in mortifying of what was dearest to them, follow’d the sensual dictates of Nature, would yet be asham’d of confessing themselves to be those despicable Wretches that belong’d to the inferior Class, and were generally reckon’d to be so little remov’d from Brutes; and that therefore in their own Defence they would say, as others[33] did, and hiding their own Imperfections as well as they could, cry up Self-denial and Publick-spiritedness as much as any: For it is highly probable, that some of them, convinced by the real Proofs of Fortitude and Self-Conquest they had seen, would admire in others what they found wanting in themselves; others be afraid of the Resolution and Prowess of those of the second Class, and that all of them were kept in aw by the Power of their Rulers; wherefore it is reasonable to think, that none of them (whatever they thought in themselves) would dare openly contradict, what by every body else was thought Criminal to doubt of.

  This was (or at least might have been) the manner after which Savage Man was broke;1 from whence it is evident, that the first Rudiments of Morality, broach’d by skilful Politicians, to render Men useful to each other as well as tractable, were chiefly contrived that the Ambitious might reap the more Benefit from, and govern vast Numbers of them with the greater Ease and Security. This Foundation of Politicks being once laid, it is impossible that Man should long remain uncivilized: For even those who only strove to gratify their Appetites, being continually cross’d by others of the same Stamp, could not but observe, that whenever they check’d their Inclinations or but followed them with more Circumspection, they avoided a world of Troubles, and often escap’d many of the Calamities that [34]generally attended the too eager Pursuit after Pleasure.

  First, they receiv’d, as well as others, the benefit of those Actions that were done for the good of the whole Society, and consequently could not forbear wishing well to those of the superior Class that perform’d them. Secondly, the more intent they were in seeking their own Advantage, without Regard to others, the more they were hourly convinced, that none stood so much in their waya as those that were most like themselves.

  It being the Interest then of the very worst of them, more than any, to preach up Publick-spiritedness, that they might reap the Fruits of the Labour and Self-denial of others, and at the same time indulge their own Appetites with less disturbance, they agreed with the rest, to call every thing, which, without Regard to the Publick, Man should commit to gratify any of his Appetites, V I C E; if in that Action there cou’d be observed the least prospect, that it might either be injurious to any of the Society, or ever render himself less serviceable to others: And to give the Name of V I R T U E to every Performance, by which Man, contrary to the impulse of Nature,1 should endeavour the Benefit of others, or the Conquest of his own Passions out of a Rational1 Ambition of being good.2

  It shall be objected, that no Society was ever any ways civiliz’d before the major part [35]had agreed upon some Worship or other of an over-ruling Power, and consequently that the Notions of Good and Evil, and the Distinction between Virtue and Vice, were never the Contrivance of Politicians, but the pure Effect of Religion. Before I answer this Objection, I must repeat what I have said already, that in this Enquiry into the Origin of Moral Virtue, I speak neither of Jews or aChristians, but Man in his State of Nature and Ignorance of the true Deity; and then I affirm, that the Idolatrous Superstitions of all other Nations, and the pitiful Notions they had of the Supreme Being, were incapable of exciting Man to Virtue, and good for nothing but to aw and amuse a rude and unthinking Multitude. It is evident from History, that in all considerable Societies, how stupid or ridiculous soever People’s received Notions have been, as to the Deities they worshipp’d, Human Nature has ever exerted it self in all its Branches, and that there is no earthly Wisdom or Moral Virtue, but at one time or other Men have excell’d in it in all Monarchies and Commonwealths, that for Riches and Power have been any ways remarkable.

  The Ægyptians, not satisfy’d with having Deify’d all the ugly Monsters they could think on, were so silly as to adore the Onions of their own sowing;1 yet at the same time their Country was the most famous Nursery of Arts and Sciences in the World, and them-[36]selves more eminently skill’d in the deepest Mysteries of Nature than any Nation has been since.

  No States or Kingdoms under Heaven have yielded more or greater Patterns in all sorts of Moral Virtues than the Greek and Roman Empires, more especially the latter; and yet how loose, absurd and ridiculous were their Sentiments as to Sacred Matters? For without reflecting on the extravagant Number of their Deities, if we only consider the infamous Stories they father’d upon them, it is not to be denied but that their Religion, far from teaching Men the Conquest of their Passions, and the Way to Virtue, seem’d rather contriv’d to justify their Appetites, and encourage their Vices.1 But if we would know what made ’em excel in Fortitude, Courage and Magnanimity, we must cast our Eyes on the Pomp of their Triumphs, the Magnificence of their Monuments and Arches; their Trophies, Statues, and Inscriptions; the variety of their Military Crowns, their Honours decreed to the Dead, Publick Encomiums on the Living, and other imaginary Rewards they bestow’d on Men of Merit; and we shall find, that what carried so many of them to the utmost Pitch of Self-denial, was nothing but their Policy in making use of the most effectual Means that human Pride could be flatter’d with.

  [37]It is visible then that it was not any Heathen Religion or other Idolatrous Superstition, that first put Man upon crossing his Appetites and subduing his dearest Inclinations, but the skilful Management of wary Politicians; and the nearer we search into human Nature, the more we shall be convinced, that the Moral Virtues are the Political Offspring which Flattery begot upon Pride.2

  There is no Man of what Capacity or Penetration soever, that is wholly Proof against the Witchcraft of Flattery, if artfully perform’d, and suited to his Abilitiesa . Children and Fools will swallow Personal Praise, but those that are more cunning, must be manag’d with greater Circumspection; and the more general the Flattery is, the less it is suspected by those it is levell’d at. What you say in Commendation of a whole Town is receiv’d with Pleasure by all the Inhabitants: Speak in Commendation of Letters in general, and every Man of Learning will think himself in particular obliged to you. You may safely praise the Employment a Man is of, or the Country he was born in; because you give him an Opportunity of screening the Joy he feels upon his own account, under the Esteem which he pretends to have for others.1

  It is common among cunning Men, that understand the Power which Flattery has upon Pride, when they are afraid they shall[38] be impos’d upon, to enlarge, tho’ much against their Conscience, upon the Honour, fair Dealing and Integrity of the Family, Country, or sometimes the Profession of him they suspect; because they know that Men often will change their resolution, and act against their Inclination, that they may have the Pleasure of continuing to appear in the Opinion of Some, what they are conscious not to be in reality. Thus Sagacious Moralists draw Men like Angels, in hopes that the Pride at least of Some will put ’em upon copying after the beautiful Originals which they are represented to be.2

  When the Incomparable Sir Richard Steeleb , in the usual Elegance of his easy Style, dwells on the Praises of his sublime Species, and with all the Embellishments of Rhetoric sets forth the Excellency of Human Nature,1 it is impossible not to be charm’d with his happy Turns of Thought, and the Politeness of his Expressions. But tho’ I have been often moved by the Force of his Eloquence, and ready to swallow the ingenious Sophistry with Pleasure, yet I could never be so serious, but reflecting on his artful Encomiums I thought on the Tricks made use of by the Women that would teach Children to be mannerly. When an aukward Girl, before she can either Speak or Go, begins after many Intreaties to make the first rude Essays of Curt’sying, the Nurse falls in an ecstacy of Praise[39] There’s a delicate Curt’sy! O fine Miss! There’s a pretty Lady! Mama! Miss can make a better Curt’sy than her Sister Molly! The same is echo’d over by the Maids, whilst Mama almost hugs the Child to pieces; only Miss Molly, who being four Years older knows how to make a very handsome Curt’sy, wonders at the Perverseness of their Judgment, and swelling with Indignation, is ready to cry at the Injustice that is done her, till, being whisper’d in the Ear that it is only to please the Baby, and that she is a Woman, she grows proud at being let into the Secret, and rejoicing at the Superiority of her Understanding, repeats what has been said with large Additions, and insults over the Weakness of her Sister, whom all this while she fancies to be the only Bubble among them. These extravagant Praises would by any one, above the Capacity of an Infant, be call’d fulsome Flatteries, and, if you will, abominable Lies, yet Experience teaches us, that by the help of such gross Encomiums, young Misses will be brought to make pretty Curt’sies, and behave themselves womanly much sooner, and with less trouble, than they would without them. ’Tis the same with Boys, whom they’ll strive to persuade, that all fine Gentlemen do as they are bid, and that none but Beggar Boys are rude, or dirty their Clothes; nay, as soon as the wild Brat with his untaught Fist begins to fumble for [40]his Hat, the Mother, to make him pull it off, tells him before he is two Years old, that he is a Man; and if he repeats that Action when she desires him, he’s presently a Captain, a Lord Mayor, a King, or something higher if she can think of it, till egg’d on by the force of Praise, the little Urchin endeavours to imitate Man as well as he can, and strains all his Faculties to appear what his shallow Noddle imagines he is believ’d to be.1

  The meanest Wretch puts an inestimable value upon himself, and the highest wish of the Ambitious Man is to have all the World, as to that particular, of his Opinion: So that the most insatiable Thirst after Fame that ever Heroe was inspired with, was never more than an ungovernable Greediness to engross the Esteem and Admiration of others in future Ages as well as his own; and (what Mortification soever this Truth might be to the second Thoughts of an Alexander or a Cæsar) the great Recompence in view, for which the most exalted Minds have with so much Alacrity sacrificed their Quiet, Health, sensual Pleasures, and every Inch of themselves, has never been any thing else but the Breath of Man, the Aerial Coin of Praise. Who can forbear laughing when he thinks on all the great Men that have been so serious on the Subject of that Macedonian Madman,1 his capacious Soul, that mighty Heart, in one Corner of which, ac-[41]cording to Lorenzo Gratian,2 the World was so commodiously Lodged, that in the whole there was room for Six more? Who can forbear Laughing, I say, when he compares the fine things that have been said of Alexander, with the End he proposed to himself from his vast Exploits, to be proved from his own Mouth; when the vast Pains he took to pass the Hydaspes forced him to cry out? Oh ye Athenians, could you believe what Dangers I expose my self to, to be praised by you!a3 To define then b the Reward of Glory in the amplest manner, the most that can be said of it, is, that it consists in a superlative Felicity which a Man, who is conscious of having perform’d a noble Action, enjoys in Self-love, whilst he is thinking on the Applause he expects of others.

  But here I shall be told, that besides the noisy Toilsc of War and publick Bustle of the Ambitious, there are noble and generous Actions that are perform’d in Silence; that Virtue being its own Reward, those who are really Good have a Satisfaction in their Consciousness of being so, which is all the Recompence they expect from the most worthy Performances; that among the Heathens there have been Men, who, when they did good to others, were so far from coveting Thanks and Applause, that they took all imaginable Care to be for ever conceal’d from those on whom they bestow’d their[42] Benefits, and consequently that Pride has no hand in spurring Man on to the highest pitch of Self-denial.

  In answer to this I say, that it is impossible to judge of a Man’s Performance, unless we are throughly acquainted with the Principle and Motive from which he acts. Pity, tho’ it is the most gentle and the least mischievous of all our Passions, is yet as much a Frailty of our Nature, as Anger, Pride, or Fear. The weakest Minds have generally the greatest Share of it, for which Reason none are more Compassionate than Women and Children. It must be own’d, that of all our Weaknesses it is the most amiable, and bears the greatest Resemblance to Virtue; nay, without a considerable mixture of it the Society could hardly subsist: But as it is an Impulse of Nature, that consults neither the publick Interest nor our own Reason, it may produce Evil as well as Good. It has help’d to destroy the Honour of Virgins, and corrupted the Integrity of Judges; and whoever acts from it as a Principle, what good soever he may bring to the Society, has nothing to boast of but that he has indulged a Passion that has happened to be beneficial to the Publick. There is no Merit in saving an innocent Babe ready to drop into the Fire: The Action is neither good nor bad, and what Benefit soever the Infant received, we only obliged our selves; for to have seen it fall, and not[43] strove to hinder it, would have caused a Pain, which Self-preservation compell’d us to prevent: Nor has a rich Prodigal, that happens to be of a commiserating Temper, and loves to gratify his Passions, greater Virtue to boast of when he relieves an Object of Compassion with what to himself is a Trifle.

  But such Men, as without complying with any Weakness of their own, can part from what they value themselves, and, from no other Motive but their Love to Goodness, perform a worthy Action in Silence: Such Men, I confess, have acquir’d more refin’d Notions of Virtue than those I have hitherto spoke of; yet even in these (with which the World has yet never swarm’d) we may discover no small Symptoms of Pride, and the humblest Man alive must confess, that the Reward of a Virtuous Action, which is the Satisfaction that ensues upon it, consists in a certain Pleasure he procures to himself by Contemplating on his own Worth: Which Pleasure, together with the Occasion of it, are as certain Signs of Pride, as looking Pale and Trembling at any imminent Danger, are the Symptoms of Fear.

  If the too scrupulous Reader should at first View condemn these Notions concerning the Origin of Moral Virtue, and think them perhaps offensive to Christianity, I hope he’ll forbear his Censures, when he shall consider, that nothing can render the unsearchable [44]depth of thea Divine Wisdom more conspicuous, than that Man, whom Providence had designed for Society, should not only by his own Frailties and Imperfections be led into the Road to Temporal Happiness, but likewise receive, from a seeming Necessity of Natural Causes, a Tincture of that Knowledge, in which he was afterwards to be made perfect by the True Religion, to his Eternal Welfare.1

  [a]either 142

  [a]in 14–29

  [b]make 28–32

  [c]Pleasures 14–24

  [a]Passions 14–24

  [1]Cf. Prov. xvi. 32.

  [2]The resemblance between man and the animals was a commonplace of antiquity, but Christian orthodoxy made man sui generis. Montaigne, however (Essais, Bordeaux, 1906–20, ii. 158–202), defended the kinship of man and beast, as did Charron (De la Sagesse, bk. I, ch. 8), Pierre le Moyne (Peintures Morales, ed. 1645, vol. 1, bk. 2, ch. 5, § 2), La Mothe le Vayer (Soliloques Sceptiques, Paris, 1875, p. 5), and, above all, Gassendi, who, in his reply to Descartes, argued: ‘… at quemadmodum, licet homo sit præstantissimum animalium, non eximitur tamen ex animalium numero …’ (see Gassendi, in Descartes, (Œuvres, Paris, 1897–1910, vii. 269, in Meditationes de Prima Philosophia, Objectiones Quintæ ii. 7). Cf. also below, i. 181, n. 1, ii. 139, n. 1, and 166, n. 1.

  [a]recide 32

  [1]That virtue and religion were inventions of politicians to awe the mob was a very ancient opinion, to be found, for example, in Plato, Theaetetus 172 a, b, Epicurus, Sententia 31 (ed. Usener, p. 78), and Horace, Satires 1. iii. 111–12. But in Christian times, although the conception of the human origin of virtue was not very rare, the belief that it was invented specifically to control the people seldom occurred—at least in print. It found expression chiefly in the mouth of stage villains and, in arguments, of the interlocutor chosen for defeat. Thus Greene made Selimus say (First Part of …. Selimus, lines 258–71, in Life and Works, ed. Grosart):

  • Then some sage man, aboue the vulgar wise,
  • … did first deuise
  • The names of Gods, religion, heauen, and hell,
  • And gan of paines, and faind rewards, to tell …
  • And these religious obseruations,
  • Onely bug-beares to keepe the world in feare,
  • And make men quietly a yoake to beare.
  • So that religion of it selfe a bable,
  • Was only found to make vs peaceable.

  Nathaniel Ingelo wrote, ‘You dispute plausibly, said Pasenantius; but why may we not think that Politicians, as I told you, invented this Notion [of religion] …?’ (Bentivolio and Urania, ed. 1669, pt. 2, p. 113). In Christianity not Mysterious (2nd ed., 1696, p. 58) Toland stated, ‘… the natural Man, that is, he that gives the swing to his Appetites, counts Divine Things mere Folly, calls Religion a feverish Dream of superstitious Heads, or a politick Trick invented by States-men to aw the credulous Vulgar’. Cf. also Hobbes, English Works, ed. Molesworth, iii. 103, in Leviathan. Apparently, the conception had some prevalence, but got little utterance, because of the blasphemy laws. On the Continent, Machiavelli expounded the invention of morality by politicians (Diorsi 1. ii), as did Vanini (De Admirandis Naturæ … Arcanis, Paris, 1616, p. 366); and Spinoza declared obedience by the multitude to be the chief purpose of religion and held that the prophets deliberately adapted their words to this purpose (see Tractatus Theologico-Politicus, passim). Cf. also La Rochefoucauld, maxims 87 and 308 (Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault). It is very important, however, to note that Mandeville did not really believe that virtue was ‘invented’ on particular occasions; he was at pains several times to qualify the false impression created by his Enquiry into the Origin of Moral Virtue. Thus, in the Origin of Honour (1732), he wrote:
  
  ‘Hor. But, how are you sure, that this was the Work of Moralists and Politicians, as you seem to insinuate?
  
  ‘Cleo. [Mandeville’s spokesman] I give those Names promiscuously to All that, having studied Human Nature, have endeavour’d to civilize Men, and render them more and more tractable, either for the Ease of Governours and Magistrates, or else for the Temporal Happiness of Society in general. I think of all Inventions of this Sort, the same which [I] told [a footnote here refers to Fable ii. 132 (128)] you of Politeness, that they are the joint Labour of Many. Human Wisdom is the Child of Time. It was not the Contrivance of one Man, nor could it have been the Business of a few Years, to establish a Notion, by which a rational Creature is kept in Awe for Fear of it Self, and an Idol is set up, that shall be its own Worshiper’ (pp. 40–1).
  
  Mandeville’s repeated insistence on the fact that civilization is the result, not of sudden invention, but of a very slow evolution based on man’s actual nature, is discussed above, i. lxiv–lxvi.

  [a]stood … way] were so obnoxious to them 14, 23

  [1]In support of his contention that virtue must always mean self-denial Mandeville, in the preface to his Origin of Honour (1732), furnished an analysis of the origin of ethics, concluding: ‘Upon due Consideration of what has been said, it will be easy to imagine, how and why, soon after Fortitude [conquest of our fear of death, the greatest self-conquest] had been honoured with the Name of Virtue, all the other Branches of Conquest over our selves were dignify’d with the same Title. We may see in it likewise the Reason of what I have always so strenuously insisted upon, viz. That no Practice, no Action or good Quality, how useful or beneficial soever they may be in themselves, can ever deserve the Name of Virtue, strictly speaking, where there is not a palpable Self-denial to be seen’ (pp. v–vi). Later in the Origin of Honour (p. 236) he argued, ‘It is certain, that Christianity being once stript of the Severity of its Discipline, and its most essential Precepts, the Design of it may be so skilfully perverted from its real and original Scope, as to be made subservient to any worldly End or Purpose, a Politician can have Occasion for’.
  
  For the paradoxical relation of the ascetic element of Mandeville’s conception of virtue to his ethical philosophy as a whole, see the discussion above, i. xlvii–lvi. Cf. also below, n. 2.

  [1]Rationalism, of one aspect or another, in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century ethics was, it is almost unnecessary to note, very marked, whether in a writer such as Culverwel, who states (Of the Light of Nature, ed. Brown, 1857, p. 66) that ‘the law of nature is built upon reason’, or in a more systematic thinker like the ‘intellectualist’ Samuel Clarke, who argues (Works, ed. 1738, ii. 50–1): ‘From this first, original, and literal signification of the words, Flesh and Spirit; the same Terms have, by a very easy and natural figure of Speech, been extended to signify All Vice and All Virtue in general; as having their Root and Foundation, one in the prevailing of different Passions and Desires over the Dictates of Reason, and the other in the Dominion of Reason and Religion over all the irregularities of Desires and Passions. Every Vice, and every instance of Wickedness, of whatever kind it be; has its Foundation in some unreasonable Appetite or ungoverned Passion, warring against the Law of the Mind.’ And again—‘All Religion or Virtue, consists in the Love of Truth, and in the Free Choice and Practice of Right, and in being influenced regularly by rational and moral Motives’ (Sermons, ed. 1742, i. 457). Even so empirical a thinker as Locke holds, in contradiction to his main philosophy, that a complete morality can be derived by the exercise of pure ratiocination from general a priori principles, without reference to concrete circumstances; and Spinoza, also, who placed so great a stress on the dependence of thought upon feeling, nevertheless attempts to demonstrate his ethics ‘ordine geometrico’.

  [2]Several things of importance should be noted in regard to this definition, a definition on which Mandeville’s whole speculation turns. In the first place, his insistence that virtue always implies contradiction of our nature and his demand that virtue be ‘rational’ come to the same thing. A ‘rational’ act meant to Mandeville one not at all dictated by the emotions. Consequently, ‘rational’ conduct was ex hypothesi action ‘contrary to the impulse of Nature’. In the second place, not only was the general rationalistic aspect of his definition a reflection of contemporary thought (see above, n. i), but the extreme ascetic rigorism of his definition and his identification of reason with dispassionateness were also largely an emphasized presentment of fundamental and popular conceptions of his day. I have considered these facts at some length above, i. cxxi, n. 1, and cxxii, n. 1.

  [a]nor 29

  [1]Cf. Pliny, Naturalis Historia, ed. Mayhoff, xix. (32) 101. Mandeville alludes again to this superstition in his Free Thoughts (1729), p. 50.

  [1]Mandeville’s argument from the wickedness of the gods to prove his contention that religion has little beneficial effect on conduct is found in the classics (e.g., in Lucretius i. 62–101). Among seventeenth-century writers who held the possible independence of virtue and religion may be mentioned La Mothe le Vayer (Vertu des Paiens), Nicole (Essais de Morale, Paris, 1714, iii. 128–9 and 165–6), and Bayle (Miscellaneous Reflections, ed. 1708, ii. 371, and Oeuvres Diverses, The Hague, 1727–31, iii. 363–4, 375–6, and 387). Other instances of this opinion are noted in Bayle, Réponse aux Questions d’un Provincial, pt. 3, ch. 10, and in Masson’s edition of Rousseau’s Profession de Foi du Vicaire Savoyard (1914), p. 253, n. 2.

  [2]Cf. above, i. xcii, n. 1.

  [a]Abilites 32

  [1]Cf. Jean de la Placette: ‘Chaque Moine prend part à la gloire de son Ordre, & c’est principalement par cette raison qu’il en est si jaloux.
  
  ‘On voit la même chose par tout ailleurs. On le voit dans les Professions, dans les genres de vie, dans les Societés civiles & Ecclesiastiques. Tous ceux qui composent ces Societés, ou qui suivent ces Professions, les élevent jusqu’au ciel, & se font une grande affaire de faire l’eloge des personnes de merite qui y ont vécu. Pourquoi cela, que pour s’approprier en suite toute la gloire qu’on a tâché de procurer, ou de conserver au corps?’ (Traité de l’Orgueil, Amsterdam, 1700, p. 47).

  [2]Cf. below, ii. 412–14.

  [b]Sir Richard Steele] Mr Steele 14; Sir Rd. Steele 23

  [1]Steele opened Tatler no. 87 with the words ‘There is nothing which I contemplate with greater pleasure than the dignity of human nature’; and in the epilogue to his The Lying Lover (1703) he recommended this play because it ‘Makes us … more approve ourselves.’

  [1]To this paragraph there is something of a parallel in Locke’s Some Thoughts concerning Education: ‘The coverings of our bodies, which are for modesty, warmth, and defence, are . . . . made matter of vanity and emulation . . . . when the little girl is tricked up in her new gown and commode, how can her mother do less than teach her to admire herself, by calling her, “her little queen”, and “her princess”?’ (Works, ed. 1823, ix. 30). ‘If you can once get into children a love of credit, and an apprehension of shame and disgrace, you have put into them the true principle …’ (Works ix. 41). La Rochefoucauld, also, declared that ‘L’éducation que l’on donne d’ordinaire aux jeunes gens est un second amour-propre qu’on leur inspire’ (maxim 261, Œuvres, ed. Gilbert and Gourdault), and J. F. Bernard held education achieved ‘par le secours de l’amour propre’ (Reflexions Morales, Amsterdam, 1716, p. 5).

  [1]Bayle, from whose Dictionary Mandeville derived some of his information about Alexander (see next note), also referred to Alexander as a ‘Madman’ (see Bayle’s Miscellaneous Reflections, ed. 1708, i. 195).

  [2]Mandeville derived this citation from the article ‘Macedonia’ in Bayle’s Dictionary (n. C), where the passage runs, ‘ A Spanish Author goes higher than Juvenal; he calls Alexander’s Heart an Archicor, in a Corner of which the World was so unstraitned, that there was room for six more’. A note (C e) identifies this author as Lorenzo [Baltasar] Gracian (cf. Gracian, Obras, Barcelona, 1757, i. 511).

  [a]Who can forbear . . . you add. 23

  [3]For this quotation, ultimately from Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, see the article ‘Macedonia’ in Bayle’s Dictionary (n. C).

  [b]To define then] For, to define 14

  [c]Exploits 14

  [a]the add. 23

  [1]Mandeville’s exposition of the uses of evil should not be confused with the ‘optimism’ it may seem to resemble. Philosophical and theological optimism like that of Leibniz, Shaftesbury, or Milton (Paradise Lost i. 151–2 and passim) was teleological: it saw evil working towards good as part of a great divine plan. Mandeville, however, in spite of the paragraph to which this is a note, was not interested in the problem as a teleological one, but merely as a matter of worldly fact. And he continued, also, to call things evil, and to refrain from all gilding of them, despite his insistence on their contribution as means to good ends.—Cf. also above, i. ixxiii.

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  5: Session IIIb: Bernard Mandeville on the Origin of Moral Virtue

  Then read Mandeville’s “A Search into the Nature of Society.”

  Bernard Mandeville, The Fable of the Bees or Private Vices, Publick Benefits, 2 vols. With a Commentary Critical, Historical, and Explanatory by F.B. Kaye (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 1988). Vol. 1. Chapter: [371] A SEARCH into the Nature of Society . a

  Accessed from oll.libertyfund.org/title/846/66893 on 2008-11-14

  The copyright to this edition, in both print and electronic forms, is held by Liberty Fund, Inc.

  ---

  [371]A SEARCH into the Nature of Society.a

  THE Generality of Moralists and Philosophers have hitherto agreed that there could be no Virtue without Self-denial; but a late Author, who is now much read by Men of Sense, is of a contrary Opinion, and imagines that Men without any Trouble or Violence upon themselves may be naturally Virtuous.1 He seems to require and expectb Goodness in his Species, as we do a sweet Taste in Grapes and China Oranges, of which, if any of them are sour, we boldly pronounce that they are not come to that Perfection their Nature is capable of. This Noble Writer (for it is the Lord Shaftesbury I mean in his Characteristicks) Fancies, that as Man is [372]made for Society, so he ought to be born with a kind Affection to the whole, of which he is a part, and a Propensity to seek the Welfare of it. Ina pursuance of this Supposition, he calls every Action perform’d with regard to the Publick Good, Virtuous; and all Selfishness, wholly excluding such a Regard, Vice. In respect to our Species he looks upon Virtue and Vice as permanent Realties that must ever be the same in all Countries and all Ages,1 and imagines that a Man of sound Understanding, by following the Rules of good Sense, may not only find out that Pulchrum & Honestum2 both in Morality and the Works of Art and Nature, but likewise govern himself by his Reason with as much Ease and Readiness as a good Rider manages a well-taught Horse by the Bridle.

  The attentive Reader, who perused the foregoing part of this Book, will soon perceive that two Systems cannot be more opposite than his Lordship’s and mine. His Notions I confess are generous and refin’d: They are a high Compliment to Human-kind, and capable by the help of a little Enthusiasm of Inspiring us with the most Noble Sentiments concerning the Dignity of our exalted Nature: What Pity it is that they are not true: I would not advance thus much if I had not already demonstrated in almost every Page of this Treatise, that the Solidity of them is inconsistent with our daily Experience. But to leave not the least Shadow of an Objection that might be made unanswer’d, [373]I design to expatiate on some things which hitherto I have but slightly touch’d upon, in order to convince the Reader, not only that the good and amiable Qualities of Mana are not those that make him beyond other Animals a sociable Creature; but moreover that it would be utterly impossible, either to raise any Multitudes into a Populous, Rich and Flourishing Nation, or when so rais’d, to keep and maintain them in that Condition, without the assistance of what we call Evil both Natural and Moral.

  The better to perform what I have undertaken, I shall previously examine into the Reality of the pulchrum & honestum, the τὸ κάλον1 that the Ancients have talk’d of so much: The Meaning of this is to discuss, whether there be a real Worth and Excellency in things, a pre-eminence of one above another; which every body will always agree to that well understands them; or that there are few things, if any, that have the same Esteem paid them, and which the same Judgment is pass’d upon in all Countries and all Ages. When we first set out in quest of this intrinsick worth, and find one thing better than another, and a third better than that, and so on, we begin to entertain great Hopes of Success; but when we meet with several things that are all very good or all very bad, we are puzzled and agree not always with ourselves , much less with others. There are different Faults as well as Beauties, that as Modes and Fashions alter and Men vary [374]in their Tastes and Humours, will be differently admired or disapproved of.

  Judges of Painting will never disagree in Opinion, when a fine Picture is compared to the dawbing of a Novice; but how strangely have they differ’d as to the Works of eminent Masters! There are Parties among Connoisseurs, and few of them agree in their Esteem as to Ages and Countries, and the best Pictures bear not always the best Prices : A noted Original will be ever worth more than any Copy that can be made of it by an unknown Hand, tho’ it should be better. The Value that is set on Paintings depends not only on the Name of the Master and the Time of his Age he drew them in, but likewise in a great Measure on the Scarcity of his Works, anda what is still more unreasonable, the Quality of the Persons in whose Possession they are as well as the length of Time they have been in great Families; and if the Cartons now at Hampton-Court were done by a less famous Hand than that of Raphael, and had a private Person for their Owner, who would be forc’d to sell them, they would never yield the tenth part of the Money which with all their gross Faults they are now esteemed to be worth.

  Notwithstanding all this, I will readily own, that the Judgment to be made of Painting might become of universal Certainty, or at least less alterable and precarious than almost any thing else: The Reason is plain; there is a Standard[375] to go by that always remains the same. Painting is an Imitation of Nature, a Copying of things which Men have every where before them. My good humour’d Reader I hope will forgive me, if thinking on this glorious Invention I make a Reflexion a little out of Season, tho’ very much conducive to my main Design; which is, that Valuable as the Art is I speak of, we are beholden to an Imperfection in the chief of our Senses for all the Pleasures and ravishing Delight we receive from this happy Deceit. I shall explain my self. Air and Space are no Objects of Sight, but as soon as we can see with the least Attention, we observe that the Bulk of the things we see is lessen’d by degrees, as they are further remote from us, and nothing but Experience gain’d from these Observations can teach us to make any tolerable Guesses at the distance of Things. If one born Blind should remain so till twenty, and then be suddenly bless’d with Sight, he would be strangely puzzled as to the difference of Distances, and hardly able immediately by his Eyes alone to determine which was nearest to him, a Post almost within the reach of his Stick, or a Steeple that should be half a Mile off. Let us look as narrowly as we can upon a Hole in a Wall, that has nothing but the open Air behind it, and we shall not be able to see otherwise, but that the Sky fills up the Vacuity, and is as near us as the back part of the Stones that circumscribe the Space where they are wanting. [376]This Circumstance, not to call it a Defect, in our Sense of Seeing, makes us liable to be imposed upon, and every thing, buta Motion, may by Art be represented to us on a Flat in the same manner as we see them in Life and Nature. If a Man had never seen this Art put into practice, a Looking-glass might soon convince him that such a thing was possible, and I can’t help thinking but that the Reflexions from very smooth and well-polish’d Bodies made upon our Eyes, must have given the first handle to the Inventions of Drawings and Painting.

  In the Works of Nature, Worth and Excellency are as uncertain: and even in Humane Creatures what is beautiful in one Country is not so in another. How whimsical is the Florist in his Choice! Sometimes the Tulip, sometimes the Auricula, and at other times the Carnationb shall engross his Esteem, and every Year a new Flower in his Judgment beats all the old ones, tho’ it is much inferior to them both in Colour and Shape.1 Three hundred Years ago Men were shaved as closely as they are now: Since that they have wore Beards, and cut them in vasta Variety of Forms, that were all as becoming when fashionable as now they would be Ridiculous. How mean and comically a Man looks, that is otherwise well dress’d, in a narrow-brim’d Hat when every Body wears broad ones; and again, how monstrous is a very great Hat, when the other extreme has been in fashion for a considerable time? Experience has taught us, [377]that these Modes seldom last above Ten or Twelve Years, and a Man of Threescore must have observed five or six Revolutions of ’emb at least; yet the beginnings of these Changes, tho’ we have seen several, seem always uncouth and are offensive afresh whenever they return.2 What Mortal can decide which is the handsomest, abstract from the Mode in being, to wear great Buttons or small ones? The many ways of laying out a Garden Judiciously are almost Innumerable, and what is called Beautiful in them varies according to the different Tastes of Nations and Ages. In Grass Plats, Knots3 and Parterre’s3 a great diversity of Forms is generally agreeable; but a Round may be as pleasing to the Eye as a Square: An Oval cannot be more suitable to one place than it is possible for a Triangle to be to another; and the preeminence an Octogon has over an Hexagon is no greater in Figures, than at Hazard Eight has above Six among the Chances.

  Churches, ever since Christians have been able to Build them, resemble the Form of a Cross, with the upper end pointing toward the East; and an Architect, where there is room, and it can be conveniently done, who should neglect it, would be thought to have committed an unpardonable Fault; but it would be foolish to expect this of a Turkish Mosque or a Pagan Temple. Among the many Beneficial Laws that have been made these Hundred Years, ita is not easy to name one of greater [378]Utility, and at the same time more exempt from all Inconveniencies, than that which has regulated the Dresses of the Dead.1 Those who were old enough to take notice of things when that Act was made, and are yet alive, must remember the general Clamour that was made against it. At first nothing could be more shocking to Thousands of People than that they were to be Buried in Woollen, and the only thing that made that Law supportable was, that there was room left for People of some Fashion to indulge their Weakness without Extravagancy; considering the other Expences of Funerals where Mourning is given to several, and Rings to a great many. The Benefit that accrues to the Nation from it is so visible that nothing ever could be said in reason to condemn it, which in few Years made the Horror conceived against it lessen every Day. I observed then that Young People who had seen but few in their Coffins did the soonest strike in with the Innovation; but that those who, when the Act was made, had Buried many Friends and Relations remained averse to it the longest, and I remember many that never could be reconciled to it to their dying Day. By this time Burying in Linen being almost forgot, it is the general Opinion that nothing could be more decent than Woollen, and the present Manner of Dressing a Corps: which shews that our Liking or Disliking of things chiefly depends on Mode and Custom, and the Precept and Example of our Bet-[379]ters and such whom one way or other we think to be Superior to us.

  In Morals there is no greater Certainty. Plurality of Wives is odious among Christians, and all the Wit and Learning of a Great Genius in defence of it1 has been rejected with contempt: But Polygamy is not shocking to a Mahometan. What Men have learned from their Infancy enslaves them, and the Force of Custom warps Nature, and at the same time imitates her in such a manner, that it is often difficult to know which of the two we are influenced by. In the East formerly Sisters married Brothers, and it was meritorious for a Man to marry his Mother. Such Alliances are abominable; but it is certain that, whatever Horror we conceive at the Thoughts of them, there is nothing in Nature repugnant against them, but what is built upon Mode and Custom. A Religious Mahometan that has never tasted any Spirituous Liquor, and has often seen People Drunk, may receive as great an aversion against Wine, as another with us of the least Morality and Education may have against lying with his Sister, and both imagine that their Antipathy proceeds from Nature. Which is the best Religion? is a Question that has caused more Mischief than all other Questions together. Ask it at Peking, at Constantinople, and at Rome, and you’ll receive three distinct Answers extremely different from one another, yet all of them equally positive and peremptory. Christians are [380]well assured of the falsity of the Pagan and Mahometan Superstitions; as to this point there is a perfect Union and Concord among them; but enquire of the several Sects they are divided into, Which is the true Church of Christ? and all of them will tell you it is theirs, and to convince you, go together by the Ears.1

  It is manifest then that the hunting after this Pulchrum & Honestum is not much better than a Wild-Goose-Chace that is but little to be depended upon: But this is not the greatest Fault I find with it. The imaginary Notions that Men may be Virtuous without Self-denial are a vast Inlet to Hypocrisy, which being once made habitual, we must not only deceive others, but likewise become altogether unknown to our selves, and in an Instance I am going to give, it will appear, how for want of duly examining himself this might happen to a Person of Quality of Parts and Erudition, one every way resembling the Author of the Characteristicks himself.

  A Man that has been brought up in Ease and Affluence, if he is of a Quiet Indolent Nature, learns to shun every thing that is troublesome, and chooses to curb his Passions, more because of the Inconveniencies that arise from the eager pursuit after Pleasure, and the yielding to all the demands of our Inclinations than any dislike he has to sensual Enjoyments; and it is possible, that a Person Educated under a great Philosopher,1 who was a mild and good-natured as well as able Tutor, may in such happy Cir-[381]cumstances have a better Opinion of his inward State than it really deserves, and believe himself Virtuous, because his Passions lie dormant. He may form fine Notions of the Social Virtues, and the Contempt of Death, write well of them in his Closet, and talk Eloquently of them in Company, but you shall never catch him fighting for his Country, or labouring to retrieve any National Losses. A Man that deals in Metaphysicks may easily throw himself into an Enthusiasm, and really believe that he does not fear Death while it remains out of Sight. But should he be ask’d, why having this Intrepidity either from Nature or acquired by Philosophy, he did not follow Arms when his Country was involved in War; or when he saw the Nation daily robb’d by those at the Helm, and the Affairs of the Exchequer perplex’d, why he did not go to Court, and make use of all his Friends and Interest to be a Lord Treasurer, that by his Integrity and Wise Management he might restore the Publick Credit; It is probable he would answer that he lov’d Retirement, had no other Ambition than to be a Good Man, and never aspired to have any share in the Government, or that he hated all Flattery and slavish Attendance, the Insincerity of Courts and Bustle of the World. I am willing to believe him: but may not a Man of an Indolent Temper and Unactive Spirit say, and be sincere in all this, and at the same time indulge his Appetites without being able to subdue them, tho’ his [382] Duty summons him to it. Virtue consists in Action, and whoever is possest of this Social Love and kind Affection to his Species, and by his Birth or Quality can claim any Post in the Publick Management, ought not to sit still when he can be Serviceable, but exert himself to the utmost for the good of his Fellow Subjects. Had this noble Person been of a Warlike Genius or a Boisterous Temper, he would have chose another Part in the Drama of Life, and preach’d a quite contrary Doctrine: For we are ever pushing our Reason which way soever we feel Passion to draw it, and Self-love pleads to all human Creatures for their different Views, still furnishing every individual with Arguments to justify their Inclinations.

  That boasted middle way, and the calm Virtues recommended in the Characteristicks, are good for nothing but to breed Drones, and might qualify a Man for the stupid Enjoyments of a Monastick Life, or at best a Country Justice of Peace, but they would never fit him for Labour and Assiduity, or stir him up to great Atchievements and perilous Undertakings. Man’s natural Love of Ease and Idleness, and Proneness to indulge his sensual Pleasures, are not to be cured by Precept: His strong Habits and Inclinations can only be subdued by Passions of greater Violence.1 Preach and Demonstrate to a Coward the unreasonableness of his Fears and you’ll not make him Valiant, more than you can make him Taller by bidding him to be [383]Ten Foot high, whereas the Secret to raise Courage, as I have made it Publick in Remark R, is almost infallible.

  The Fear of Death is the strongest when we are in our greatest Vigour, and our Appetite is keen; when we are Sharp-sighted, Quick of Hearing, and every Part performs its Office. The Reason is plain, because then Life is most delicious and our selves most capable of enjoying it. How comes it then that a Man of Honour should so easily accept of a Challenge, tho’ at Thirty and in perfect Health? It is his Pride that conquers his Fear: For when his Pride is not concern’d this Fear will appear most glaringly. If he is not used to the Sea let him but be in a Storm, or, if he never was ill before, have but a sore Throat or a slight Fever, and he’ll shew a Thousand Anxieties, and in them the inestimable Value he sets on Life. Had Man been naturally humble and proof against Flattery, the Politician could never have had his Ends, or known what to have made of him. Without Vices the Excellency of the Species would have ever remain’d undiscover’d, and every Worthy that has made himself famous in the World is a strong Evidence against this amiable System.

  If the Courage of the great Macedonian came up to Distraction when he fought alone against a whole Garrison, his Madness was not less when he fancy’d himself to be a God, or at least doubted whether he was or not; and as soon [384]as we make this Reflexion, we discover both the Passion, and the Extravagancy of it, that buoy’d up his Spirits in the most imminent Dangers, and carried him through all the Difficulties and Fatigues he underwent.a

  There never was in the World a brighter Example of an able and compleat Magistrate than Cicero: When I think on his Care and Vigilance, the real Hazards he slighted, and the Pains he took for the Safety of Rome; his Wisdom and Sagacity in detecting and disappointing the Stratagems of the boldest and most subtle Conspirators, and at the same time on his Love to Literature, Arts and Sciences, his Capacity in Metaphysicks, the Justness of his Reasonings, the Force of his Eloquence, the Politeness of his Style, and the genteel Spirit that runs through his Writings; when I think, I say, on all these things together, I am struck with Amazement, and the least I can say of him is that he was a Prodigious Man. But when I have set the many good Qualities he had in the best Light, it is as evident to me on the other side, that had his Vanity been inferior to his greatest Excellency, the good Sense and Knowledge of the World he was so eminently possess’d of could never have let him be such a fulsome as well as noisy Trumpetera as he was of his own Praises, or suffer’d him rather than not proclaim his own Merit, to make a Verse that a School-Boy would have been laugh’d at for. O! Fortunatam, &c.1

  [385]How strict and severe was the Morality of rigid Cato, how steady and unaffected the Virtue of that grand Asserter of Roman Liberty! but tho’ the Equivalent this Stoick enjoy’d, for all the Self-denial and Austerity he practised, remained long concealed, and his peculiar Modesty hid from the World, and perhaps himself, a vast while the Frailty of his Heart that forced him into Heroism, yet it was brought to light in the last Scene of his Life, and by his Suicide it plainly appeared that he was governed by a Tyrannical Power superior to the Love of his Country, and that the implacable Hatred and superlative Envy he bore to the Glory, the real Greatness and Personal Merit of Cæsar, had for a long time sway’d all his Actions under the most noble Pretences. Had not this violent Motive over-rul’d his consummate Prudence he might not only have saved himself, but likewise most of his Friends that were ruined by the Loss of him, and would in all probability, if he could have stooped to it, been the Second Man in Rome. But he knew the boundless Mind and unlimited Generosity of the Victor: it was his Clemency he feared, and therefore chose Death because it was less terrible to his Pride than the Thought of giving his mortal Foe so tempting an Opportunity of shewing the Magnanimity of his Soul, as Cæsar would have found in forgiving such an inveterate Enemy as Cato, and offering him his Friendship; and which, it is thought by the Judicious, that [386]Penetrating as well as Ambitious Conqueror would not have slipt, if the other had dared to live.

  Another Argument to prove the kind Disposition and real Affection we naturally have for our Species, is our Love of Company, and the Aversion Men that are in their Senses generally have to Solitude, beyond other Creatures. This bears a fine glossa in the Characteristicks,1 and isb set off in very good Language to the best Advantage: the next Day after I read it first, I heard abundance of People cry Fresh Herrings, which with the Reflexion on the vast Shoals of that and other Fish that are caught together, made me very merry, tho’ I was alone; but as I was entertaining my self with this Contemplation, came an impertinent idle Fellow, whom I had the Misfortune to be known by, and asked me liow I did, tho’ I was and dare say looked as healthy and as well as ever I was or did in my Life. What I answered him I forgot, but remember that I could not get rid of him in a good while, and felt all the Uneasiness my Friend Horace complains of from a Persecution of the like nature.1

  I would have no sagacious Critick pronounce me a Man-hater from this short Story; whoever does is very much mistaken. I am a great Lover of Company, and if the Reader is not quite tired with mine, before I shew the Weakness and Ridicule of that piece of Flattery [387]made to our Species, and which I was just now speaking of, I will give him a Description of the Man I would choose for Conversation, with a Promise that before he has finished what at first he might only take for a Digression foreign to my purpose, he shall find the Use of it.

  By Early and Artful Instruction he should be thoroughly imbued with the notions of Honour and Shame, and have contracted an habitual aversion to every thing that has the least tendency to Impudence, Rudeness or Inhumanity. He should be well vers’d in the Latin Tongue and not ignorant of the Greek, and moreover understand one or two of the Modern Languages besides his own. He should be acquainted with the Fashions and Customs of the Ancients, but thoroughly skilled in the History of his own Country and the Manners of the Age he lives in. He should besides Literature have study’d some useful Science or other, seen some Foreign Courts and Universities, and made the true Use of Travelling. He should at times take delight in Dancing, Fencing, Riding the Great Horse, and knowinga something of Hunting and other Country Sports, without being attach’d to any, and he should treat them all as either Exercises for Health, or Diversions that should never interfere with Business, or the attaining to more valuable Qualifications. He should have a smatch of Geometry and Astronomy as well as Anatomy and the Oeconomy of Human Bodies.b [388]To understand Musick so as to perform, is an Accomplisbment, but there is abundance to be said against it, and instead of it I would have him know so much of Drawing as is required to take a Landskip, or explain ones meaning of any Form or Model we wouldc describe, but never to touch a Pencil. He should be very early used to the Company of modest Women, and never be a Fortnight without Conversing with the Ladies.

  Gross Vices, as Irreligion, Whoring, Gaming, Drinking and Quarrelling, I won’t mention; even the meanest Education guards us against them; I would always recommend to him the Practice of Virtue, but I am for no Voluntary Ignorance, in a Gentleman, of any thing that is done in Court or City. It is impossible a Man should be perfect, and therefore there are Faults I would connive at, if I could not prevent them; and if between the Years of Nineteen and Three and Twenty, Youthful Heat should sometimes get the better of his Chastity, so it was done with caution; should he on some Extraordinary Occasion, overcome by the pressing Solicitations of Jovial Friends, drink more than was consistent with strict Sobriety, so he did it very seldom and found it not to interfere with his Health or Temper; or if by the height of his Mettle and great Provocation in a Just Cause, he had been drawn into a Quarrel, which true Wisdom and a less strict adherence to the Rules of Honour might have declined or prevented, so [389]it never befel him above once; If I say he should have happened to be Guilty of these things, and he would never speak, much less brag of them himself, they might be pardoned or at least over-looked at the Age I named, if he left off then and continued discreet for ever after. The very Disasters of Youth have sometimes frighten’d Gentlemen into a more steady Prudence than in all probability they would ever have been masters of without them. To keep him from Turpitude and things that are openly Scandalous, there is nothing better than to procure him free access in one or two noble Families where his frequent Attendance is counted a Duty: And while by that means you preserve his Pride, he is kept in a continual dread of Shame.

  A Man of a tolerable Fortune, pretty near accomplish’d as I have required him to be, that still improves himself and sees the World till he is Thirty, cannot be disagreeable to converse with, at least while he continues in Health and Prosperity, and has nothing to spoil his Temper. When such a one either by chance or appointment meets with Three or Four of his Equals, and all agree to pass away a few Hours together, the whole is what I call good Company. There is nothing said in it that is not either instructive or diverting to a Man of Sense. It is possible they may not always be of the same Opinion, but there can be no contest between any but who shall yield first to the other he differs from. [390]One only speaks at a time, and no louder than to be plainly understood by him who sits the farthest off. The greatest Pleasure aimed at by every one of them is to have the Satisfaction of Pleasing others, which they all practically know may as effectually be done by hearkning with Attention and an approving Countenance, as if we said very good things our selves.

  Most People of any Taste would like such a Conversation, and justly prefer it to being alone, when they knew not how to spend their time; but if they could employ themselves in something from which they expected either a more solid or a more lasting Satisfaction, they would deny themselves this Pleasure, and follow what was of greater consequence to ’em.a But would not a Man, though he had seen no mortal in a Fortnight, remain alone as much longer, rather than get into Company of Noisy Fellows that take Delight in Contradiction, and place a Glory in picking a Quarrel? Would not one that has Books, Read for ever, or set himself to Write upon some Subject or other, rather than be every Night with Party-men who count the Island to be good for nothing while their Adversaries are suffered to live upon it? Would not a Man be by himself a Month, and go to Bed before seven o’Clock,b rather than mix with Fox-hunters, who having all Day long tried in vain to break their Necks, join at Night in a second Attempt upon their Lives by Drinking, and to express their Mirth, are louder in sense-[391]less Sounds within Doors, than their barking and less troublesome Companions are only without? I have no great Value for a Man who would not rather tire himself with Walking; or if he was shut up, scatter Pins about the Room in order to pick them up again, than keep Company for six Hours with half a Score common Sailors the Day their Ship was paid off.

  I will grant nevertheless that the greatest part of Mankind, rather than be alone any considerable time, would submit to the things I named: But I cannot see, why this Love of Company, this strong Desire after Society should be construed so much in our Favour, and alledged as a Mark of some Intrinsick Worth in Man not to be found in other Animals. For to prove from it the Goodness of our Nature and a generous Love in Man, extended beyond himself on the rest of his Species, by virtue of which he was a Sociable Creature, this Eagerness after Company and Aversion of being alone ought to have been most conspicuous and most violent in the best of their kind, the Men of the greatest Genius, Parts and Accomplishments, and those who are the least subject to Vice; the contrary of which is true. The weakest Minds, who can the least govern their Passions, Guilty Consciences that abhor Reflexion, and the worthless, who are incapable of producing any thing of their own that’s useful, are the greatest Enemies to Solitude, and will take up with any [392]Company rather than be without; whereas the Men of Sense and of Knowledge, that can think and contemplate on things, and such as are but little disturb’d by their Passions, can bear to be by themselves the longest without reluctancy; and, to avoid Noise, Folly, and Impertinence, will run away from twenty Companies; and, rather than meet with any thing disagreeable to their good Taste, will prefer their Closet or a Garden, nay a Common or a Desart to the Society of some Men.

  But let us suppose the Love of Company so inseparable from our Species that no Man could endure to be alone one Moment, what Conclusions could be drawn from this? does not Man love Company, as he does every thing else, for his own sake? No friendships or Civilities are lasting that are not reciprocal. In all your weekly and daily Meetings for Diversion, as well as Annual Feasts, and the most solemn Carousals, every Member that assists at them has his own Ends, and some frequent a Club which they would never go to unless they were the Top of it. I have known a Man who was the Oracle of the Company, be very constant, and as uneasy at any thing that hindred him from coming at the Hour, leave his Society altogether, as soon as another was added that could match, and disputed Superiority with him. There are People who are incapable of holding an Argument, and yet malicious enough to take delight in hearing others Wrangle, and tho’ [393]they never concern themselves in the Controversy, would think a Company Insipid where they could not have that Diversion. A good House, rich Furniture, a fine Garden, Horses, Dogs, Ancestors, Relations, Beauty, Strength, Excellency in any thing whatever, Vices as well as Virtuesa , may all be Accessary to make Men long for Society, in hopes that what they value themselves upon will at one time or other become the Theme of the Discourse, and give an inward Satisfaction to them. Even the most polite People in the World, and such as I spoke of at first, give no Pleasure to others that is not repaid to their Self-Love, and does not at last center in themselves, let them wind it and turn it as they will. But the plainest Demonstration that in all Clubs and Societies of Conversable People every body has the greatest Consideration for himself is, that the Disinterested, who rather over-pays than wrangles; the Good-humour’d, that is never waspish nor soon offended; the Easy and Indolent, that hates Disputes and never talks for Triumph, is every where the Darling of the Company: Whereas the Man of Sense and Knowledge, that will not be imposed upon or talk’d out of his Reason; the Man of Genius and Spirit, that can say sharp and witty things, tho’ he never Lashes but what deserves it; the Man of Honour, who neither gives nor takes an affront, may be esteem’d, but is seldom so well beloved as a weaker Man less Accomplish’d.

  [394]As in these Instances the friendly Qualities arise from our contriving perpetually our own Satisfaction, so on other Occasions they proceed from the natural Timidity of Man, and the sollicitous Care he takes of himself. Two Londoners, whose Business oblige them not to have any Commerce together, may know, see, and pass by one another every Day upon the Exchange, with not much greater Civility than Bulls would: Let them meet at Bristol they’ll pull off their Hats, and on the least Opportunity enter into Conversation, and be glad of one another’s Company. When French, English and Dutch meet in China or any other Pagan Country, being all Europeans, they look upon one another as Country-men, and if no Passion interferes, will feel a natural Propensity to love one another. Nay two Men that are at Enmity, if they are forc’d to travel together, will often lay by their Animosities, be affable and converse in a friendly manner, especially if the Road be unsafe, and they are both Strangers in the Place they are to go to. These things by superficial Judges are attributed to Man’s Sociableness, his natural Propensity to Friendship and love of Company; but whoever will duly examine things and look into Man more narrowly, will find that on all these Occasions we only endeavour to strengthen our Interest, and are moved by the Causes already alledg’d.

  What I have endeavour’d hitherto, has been to prove, that the pulchrum & honestum, excel-[395]lency and real worth of things are most commonly precarious and alterable as Modes and Customs vary; that consequently the Inferences drawn from their Certainty are insignificant, and that the generous Notions concerning the natural Goodness of Man are hurtful as they tend to mis-lead, and are meerly Chimerical: The truth of this latter I have illustrated by the most obvious Examples in History. I have spoke of our Love of Company and Aversion to Solitude, examin’d thoroughly the various Motives of them, and made it appear that they all center in Self-Love. I intend now to investigate into the nature of Society, and diving into the very rise of it, make it evident, that not the Good and Amiable, but the Bad and Hateful Qualities of Man, his Imperfections and the want of Excellencies which other Creatures are endued with, are the first Causes that made Man sociable beyond other Animals the Moment after he lost Paradise; and that if he had remain’d in his primitive Innocence, and continued to enjoy the Blessings that attended it, there is no Shadow of Probability that he ever would have become that sociable Creature he is now.

  How necessary our Appetites and Passions are for the welfare of all Trades and Handicrafts has been sufficiently prov’d throughout the Book, and that they are our bad Qualities, or at least produce them, no Body denies. It remains then that I should set forth the variety of Obstacles that hinder and perplex Man in the Labour [396]he is constantly employ’d in, the procuring of what he wants; and which in other Words is call’d the Business of Self-Preservation: While at the same time I demonstrate that the Sociableness of Man arises only from these Two things, viz. The multiplicity of his Desires, and the continual Opposition he meets with in his Endeavours to gratify them.

  The Obstacles I speak of relate either to our own Frame, or the Globe we inhabit, I mean the Condition of it, since it has been curs’d. I have often endeavour’d to contemplate separately on the two Things I named last, but cou’d never keep them asunder; they always interfere and mix with one another; and at last make up together a frightful Chaos of Evil. All the Elements are our Enemies, Water drowns and Fire consumes those who unskilfully approach them. The Earth in a Thousand Places produces Plants and other Vegetables that are hurtful to Man, while she Feeds and Cherishes a variety of Creatures that are noxious to him; and suffers a Legion of Poisons to dwell within her: But the most unkind of all the Elements is that which we cannot Live one Moment without: It is impossible to repeat all the Injuries we receive from the Wind and Weather; and tho’ the greatest part of Mankind have ever been employed in defending their Species from the Inclemency of the Air, yet no Art or Labour have hitherto been able to find a Security against the wild Rage of some Meteors.

  [397]Hurricanes it is true happen but seldom, and few Men are swallow’d up by Earthquakes, or devour’d by Lyons; but while we escape those Gigantick Mischiefs we are persecuted by Trifles. What a vast variety of Insects are tormenting to us; what Multitudes of them insult and make Game of us with Impunity! The most despicable scruple not to Trample and Graze upon us as Cattle do upon a Field: which yet is often bore with, if moderately they use their Fortune; but here again our Clemency becomes a Vice, and so encroaching are their Cruelty and Contempt of us on our Pity, that they make Laystalls of our Heads,a and devour our young ones if we are not daily Vigilant in Pursuing and Destroying them.

  There is nothing Good in all the Universe to the best-designing Man, if either through Mistake or Ignorance he commits the least Failing in the Use of it; there is no Innocence or Integrity that can protect a Man from a Thousand Mischiefs that surround him: On the contrary every thing is Evil, which Art and Experience have not taught us to turn into a Blessing. Therefore how diligent in Harvest time is the Husband-man in getting in his Crop and sheltering it from Rain, without which he could never have enjoy’d it! As seasons differ with the Climates, Experience has taught us differently to make use of them, and in one part of the Globe we may see the Farmer Sow while he is Reaping in the other; from all which we may learn how vastly [398]this Earth must have been alter’d since the Fall of our first Parents. For should we trace Man from his Beautiful, his Divine Original, not proud of Wisdom acquired by haughty Precept or tedious Experience, but endued with consummate Knowledge the moment he was form’d; I mean the State of Innocence, in which no Animal nora Vegetable upon Earth, nor Mineral under Ground was noxious to him, and himself secure from the Injuries of the Air as well as all other Harms, was contented with the Necessaries of Life, which the Globe he inhabited furnish’d him with, without his assistance. When yet not conscious of Guilt, he found himself in every Place to be the well obeyed Unrival’d Lord of all, and unaffected with his Greatness was wholly rapt up in sublime Meditations on the Infinity of his Creator, who daily did vouchsafe intelligibly to speak to him, and visit without Mischief.

  In such a Golden Age no Reason or Probability can be alledged why Mankind ever should have rais’d themselves into such large Societies as there have been in the World, as long as we can give any tolerable Account of it. Where a Man has every thing he desires, and nothing to Vex or Disturb him, there is nothing can be added to his Happiness; and it is impossible to name a Trade, Art, Science, Dignity or Employment that would not be superfluous in such a Blessed State. If we pursue this Thought we shall easily perceive that no Societies could have [399]sprung from the Amiable Virtues and Loving Qualities of Man, but on the contrary that all of them must have had their Origin from his Wants, his Imperfections, and the variety of his Appetites: We shall find likewise that the more their Pride and Vanity are display’d and all their Desires enlarg’d, the more capable they must be of being rais’d into large and vastly numerous Societies.

  Was the Air always as inoffensive to our naked Bodies, and as pleasant as to our thinking it is to the generality of Birds in Fair Weather, and Man had not been affected with Pride, Luxury and Hypocrisy, as well as Lust, I cannot see what could have put us upon the Invention of Clothes and Houses. I shall say nothing of Jewels, of Plate, Painting, Sculpture, Fine Furniture, and all that rigid Moralists have call’d Unnecessary and Superfluous: But if we were not soon tired with walking a-foot, and were as nimble as some other Animals; if Men were naturally laborious, and none unreasonable in seeking and indulging their Ease, and likewise free from other Vices, and the Ground was every where Even, Solida and Clean, who would have thought of Coaches or ventured on a Horse’s Back? What occasion has the Dolphin for a Ship, or what Carriage would an Eagle ask to travel in?

  I hope the Reader knows that by Society I understand a Body Politick, in which Manb either subdued by Superior Force, or by Persuasion drawn from his Savage State, is become [400]a Disciplin’d Creature, that can find his own Ends in Labouring for others, and where under one Head or other Form of Government each Member is render’d Subservient to the Whole, and all of them by cunning Management are made to Act as one. For if by Society we only mean a Number of People, that without Rule or Government should keep together out of a natural Affection to their Species or Love of Company, as a Herd of Cows or a Flock of Sheep, then there is not in the World a more unfit Creature for Society than Man; an Hundred of them that should be all Equals, under no Subjection, or Fear of any Superior upon Earth, could never Live together awake Two Hours without Quarrelling, and the more Knowledge, Strength, Wit, Courage and Resolution there was among them, the worse it would be.

  It is probable that in the Wild State of Nature Parents would keep a Superiority over their Children, at least while they were in Strength, and that even afterwards the Remembrance of what the others had experienc’d might produce in them something between Love and Fear, which we call Reverence: It is probable likewise that the second Generation following the Example of the first, a Man with a little Cunning would always be able, as long as he lived and had his Senses, to maintain a Superior Sway over all his own Offspring and Descendants, how numerous soever they might grow. But [401]the old Stock once dead, the Sons would quarrel, and there could be no Peace long, before there had been War. Eldership in Brothers is of no great Force, and the Preeminence that is given to it only invented as a shift to live in Peace. Man as he is a fearful Animal, naturally not rapacious, loves Peace and Quiet, and he would never Fight, if no body offended him, and he could have what he fights for without it. To this fearful Disposition and the Aversion he has to his being disturb’d, are owing all the various Projects and Forms of Government. Monarchy without doubt was the first. Aristocracy and Democracy were two different Methods of mending the Inconveniencies of the first, and a mixture of these three an Improvement on all thea rest.

  But be we Savages or Politicians, it is impossible that Man, mere fallen Man, should act with any other View but to please himself while he has the Use of his Organs, and the greatest Extravagancy either of Love or Despair can have no other Centre. There is no difference between Will and Pleasure in one sense, and every Motion made in spite of them must be unnatural and convulsive. Since then Action is so confin’d, and we are always forc’d to do what we please, and at the same time our Thoughts are free and uncontroul’d, it is impossible we could be sociable Creatures without Hypocrisy. The Proof of this is plain, since we cannot prevent the Ideas that are continu-[402]ally arising within us, all Civil Commerce would be lost, if by Art and prudent Dissimulation we had not learn’d to hide and stifle them; and if all we think wasa to be laid open to others in the same manner as it is to our selves, it is impossible that endued with Speech we could be sufferable to one another. I am persuaded that every Reader feels the Truth of what I say; and I tell my Antagonist that his Conscience flies in his Face, while his Tongue is preparing to refute me. In all Civil Societies Men are taught insensibly to be Hypocrites from their Cradle, no body dares to own that he gets by Publick Calamities, or even by the Loss of Private Persons. The Sexton would be stoned should he wish openly for the Death of the Parishioners, tho’ every body knew that he had nothing else to live upon.

  To me it is a great Pleasure, when I look on the Affairs of human Life, to behold into what various and often strangely opposite Forms the hope of Gain and thoughts of Lucre shape Men, according to the different Employments they are of, and Stations they are in. How gay and merry does every Face appear at a well-ordered Ball, and what a solemn Sadness is observ’d at the Masquerade of a Funeral! But the Undertaker is as much pleas’d with his Gains as the Dancing-Master: Both are equally tired in their Occupations, and the Mirth of the one is as much forced as the Gravity of the other is affected. Those who have never minded the Conver-[403]sation of a spruce Mercer, and a young Lady his Customer that comes to his Shop, have neglected a Scene of Life that is very Entertaining. I beg of my serious Reader, that he would for a while abate a little of his Gravity, and suffer me to examine these People separately, as to their Inside and the different Motives they act from.

  His Business is to sell as much Silk as he can at a Price by which he shall get what he proposes to be reasonable, according to the Customary Profits of the Trade. As to the Lady, what she would be at is to please her Fancy, and buy cheaper by a Groat or Sixpence per Yard than the Things she wants are commonly sold at. From the Impression the Gallantry of our Sex has made upon her, she imagines (if she be not very deform’d) that she has a fine Mien and easy Behaviour, and a peculiar Sweetness of Voice; that she is handsome, and if not beautiful at least more agreeable than most young Women she knows. As she has no Pretensions to purchase the same Things with less Money than other People, but what are built on her good Qualities, so she sets her self off to the best Advantage her Wit and Discretion will let her. The thoughts of Love are here out of the Case; so on the one hand she has no room for playing the Tyrant, and giving herself Angry and Peevish Airs, and on the other more liberty of speaking kindly, and being affable than she can have almost on any other occasion. She knows that abundance of well-bred People come to [404]his Shop, and endeavours to render her self as Amiable as Virtue and the Rules of Decency allow of. Coming with such a Resolution of Behaviour she cannota meet with any thing to ruffle her Temper.

  Before her Coach is yet quite stopp’d, she is approach’d by a Gentleman-like Man, that has every thing Clean and Fashionable about him, who in low obeisance pays her Homage, and as soon as her Pleasure is known that she has a mind to come in, hands her into the Shop, where immediately he slips from her, and through a by-way that remains visible only for half a Moment with great address entrenches himself behind the Counter: Here facing her, with a profound Reverence and modish Phrase he begs the favour of knowing her Commands. Let her say and dislike what she pleases, she can never be directly contradicted: She deals with a Man in whom consummate Patience is one of the Mysteries of his Trade, and whatever trouble she creates, she is sure to hear nothing but the most obliging Language, and has always before her a chearful Countenance, where Joy and Respect seem to be blended with Good-humour, and altogether make up an Artificial Serenity more engaging than untaught Nature is able to produce.

  When two Persons are so well met, the Conversation must be very agreeable, as well as extremely mannerly, tho’ they talk about trifles. While she remains irresolute what to take he [405]seems to be the same in advising her; and is very cautious how to direct her Choice; but when once she has made it and is fix’d, he immediately becomes positive, that it is the best of the sort, extols her Fancy, and the more he looks upon it, the more he wonders he should not before have discovered the preeminence of it over any thing he has in his Shop. By Precept, Example and great Application he has learn’d unobserv’d to slide into the inmost Recesses of the Soul, sound the Capacity of his Customers, and find out their blind Side unknown to them: By all which he is instructed in fifty other Stratagems to make her over-value her own Judgment as well as the Commodity she would purchase. The greatest Advantage he has over her, lies in the most material part of the Commerce between them, the debate about the Price, which he knows to a Farthing, and she is wholly Ignorant of: Therefore he no where more egregiously imposes on her Understanding; and tho’ here he has the liberty of telling what Lies he pleases, as to the Prime Cost and the Money he has refus’d, yet he trusts not to them only; but attacking her Vanity makes her believe the most incredible Things in the World, concerning his own Weakness and her superior Abilities; He had taken a Resolution, he says, never to part with that Piece under such a Price, but she has the power of talking him out of his Goods beyond any body he ever sold to: He protests that he loses by his [406]Silk, but seeing that she has a Fancy for it, and is resolv’d to give no more, rather than disoblige a Lady he has such an uncommon value for, he’ll let her have it, and only begs that another time she will not stand so hard with him. In the mean time the Buyer, who knows that she is no Fool and has a voluble Tongue, is easily persuaded that she has a very winning way of Talking, and thinking it sufficient for the sake of Good-breeding to disown her Merit, and in some witty Repartee retort the Compliment, he makes her swallow very contentedly the Substance of every thing he tells her. The upshot is, that with the Satisfaction of having saved Ninepence per Yard, she has bought her Silk exactly at the same Price as any body else might have done, and often gives Sixpence more, than, rather than not have sold it, he would have taken.

  It is possible that this Lady for want of being sufficiently flatter’d, for a Fault she is pleased to find in his Behaviour, or perhaps the tying of his Neck-cloth, or some other dislike as Substantial, may be lost, and her Custom bestow’d on some other of the Fraternity. But where many of them live in a Cluster, it is not always easily determin’d which Shop to go to, and the Reasons some of the Fair Sex have for their choice are often very whimsical and kept as a great Secret. We never follow our Inclinations with more freedom, than where they cannot be traced, and it is unreasonable for others to suspect them. [407]A Virtuous Woman has preferr’d one House to all the rest, because she had seen a handsome Fellow in it, and another of no bad Character for having receiv’d greater Civility before it, than had been paid her any where else, when she had no thoughts of buying and was going to Paul’s Church: for among the fashionable Mercers the fair Dealer must keep before his own Door, and to draw in random Customers make use of no other Freedom or Importunities than an obsequious Air, with a submissive Posture, and perhaps a Bow to every well-dress’d Female that offers to look towards his Shop.

  What I have said last makes me think on another way of inviting Customers, the most distant in the World from what I have been speaking of, I mean that which is practis’d by the Watermen, especially on those whom by their Mien and Garb they know to be Peasants. It is not unpleasant to see half a dozen People surround a Man they never saw in their lives before, and two of them that can get the nearest, clapping each an Arm over his Neck, hug him in as loving and familiar a manner as if he was their Brother newly come home from an East-India Voyage; a third lays hold of his Hand, another of his Sleeve, his Coat, the Buttons of it, or any thing he can come at, while a fifth or a sixth, who has scampered twice round him already without being able to get at him, plants himself directly before the Man in hold, and within three Inches of his Nose, contra-[408]dicting his Rivals with an open-mouthed cry, shews him a dreadful set of large Teeth and a small remainder of chew’d Bread and Cheese, which the Countryman’s Arrival had hindred from being swallow’d.

  At all this no Offence is taken, and the Peasant justly thinks they are making much of him; therefore far from opposing them he patiently suffers himself to be push’d or pull’d which way the Strength that surrounds him shall direct. He has not the delicacy to find Fault with a Man’s Breath, who has just blown out his Pipe, or a greasy Head of Hair that is rubbing against his Chops: Dirt and Sweat he has been used to from his Cradle, and it is no disturbance to him to hear half a score People, some of them at his Ear, and the furthest not five Foot from him, bawl out as if he was a hundred Yards off: He is conscious that he makes no less noise when he is merry himself, and is secretly pleas’d with their boisterous Usages. The hawling and pulling him about he construesa the way it is intended; it is a Courtship he can feel and understand: He can’t help wishing them well for the Esteem they seem to have for him: He loves to be taken notice of, and admires the Londoners for being so pressing in the Offers of their Service to him, for the value of Three-pence or less; whereas in the Country at the Shop he uses, he can have nothing, but he must first tell them what he wants, and, tho’ he lays out Three or Four Shillings [409]at a time, has hardly a Word spoke to him unless it be in answer to a Question himself is forc’d to ask first. This Alacrity in his Behalf moves his Gratitude, and unwilling to disoblige any, from his Heart he knows not whom to choose. I have seen a Man think all this, or something like it, as plainly as I could see the Nose in his Face; and at the same time move along very contentedly under a Load of Watermen, and with a smiling Countenance carry seven or eight Stone more than his own Weight, to the Water-side.

  If the little Mirth I have shewn, in the drawing of these two Images from low Life, mis-becomes me, I am sorry for it, but I promise not to be guilty of that Fault any more, and will now without loss of time proceed with my Argument in artless dull Simplicity, and demonstrate the gross Error of those, who imagine that the social Virtues and the amiable Qualities that are praise-worthy in us, are equally beneficial to the Publick as they are to the Individual Persons that are possess’d of them, and that the means of thriving and whatever conduces to the Welfare and real Happiness of private Families must have the same Effect upon the whole Society. This I confess I have labour’d for all along,1 and I flatter myself not unsuccessfully: But I hope no body will like a Problem the worse for seeing the Truth of it prov’d more ways than one.

  [410]It is certain that the fewer Desires a Man has and the less he covets, the more easy he is to himself; the more active he is to supply his own Wants, and the less he requires to be waited upon, the more he will be beloved and the less trouble he is in a Family; the more he loves Peace and Concord, the more Charity he has for his Neighbour, and the more he shines in real Virtue, there is no doubt but that in proportion he is acceptable to God and Man. But let us be Just, what Benefit can these things be of, or what earthly Good can they do, to promote the Wealth, the Glory and worldly Greatness of Nations? It is the sensual Courtier that sets no Limits to his Luxury; the Fickle Strumpet that invents new Fashions every Week; the haughty Dutchess that in Equipage, Entertainments, and all her Behaviour would imitate a Princess; the profuse Rake and lavish Heir, that scatter about their Money without Wit or Judgment, buya every thing they see, and either destroy or give it away the next Day, the Covetous and perjur’d Villain that squeez’d an immense Treasure from the Tears of Widows and Orphans, and left the Prodigals the Money to spend: It is these that are the Prey and proper Food of a full grown Leviathan;2 or in other words, such is the calamitous Condition of Human Affairs that we stand in need of the Plagues and Monsters I named to have all the Variety of Labour perform’d, which the Skill of Men is capable of inventing [411]in order to procure an honest Livelihood to the vast Multitudes of working poor, that are required to make a large Society: And it is folly to imagine that Great and Wealthy Nations can subsist, and be at once Powerful and Polite without.

  I protest against Popery as much as ever Luther andaCalvin did, or Queen Elizabeth herself, but I believe from my Heart, that the Reformation has scarce been more Instrumental in rend’ring the Kingdoms and States that have embraced it, flourishing beyond other Nations, than the silly and capricious Invention of Hoop’d and Quilted Petticoats. But if this should be denied me by the Enemies of Priestly Power, at least I am sure that, bar the greatb Men who have fought for and against that Lay-Man’s Blessing, it has from its first beginning to this Day not employ’d so many Hands, honest industrious labouring Hands, as the abominable improvement on Female Luxury I named has done in few Years. Religion is one thing and Trade is another. He that gives most Trouble to thousands of his Neighbours, and invents the most operose Manufactures is, right or wrong, the greatest Friend to the Society.

  What a Bustle is there to be made in several Parts of the World, before a fine Scarlet or crimson Cloth can be produced, what Multiplicity of Trades and Artificers must be employ’d! Not only such as are obvious, as Wool-combers, Spinners, the Weaver, the Cloth-[412]worker, the Scourer, the Dyer, the Setter, the Drawer and the Packer; but others that are more remote and might seem foreign to it; as the Millwright, the Pewterer and the Chymist, which yet are all necessary as well as a great Number of other Handicrafts to have the Tools, Utensils and other Implements belonging to the Trades already named: But all these things are done at home, and may be perform’d without extraordinary Fatigue or Danger; the most frightful Prospect is left behind, when we reflect on the Toil and Hazard that are to be undergone abroad, the vast Seas we are to go over, the different Climates we are to endure, and the several Nations we must be obliged to for their Assistance. Spain alone it is true might furnish us with Wool to make the finest Cloth; but what Skill and Pains, what Experience and Ingenuity are required to Dye it of those Beautiful Colours! How widely are the Drugs and other Ingredients dispers’d thro’ the Universe that are to meet in one Kettle! Allum indeed we have of our own; Argol we might have from the Rhine, and Vitriol from Hungary; all this is in Europe; but then for Saltpetre in quantity we are forc’d to go as far as the East-Indies. Cochenille, unknown to the Ancients, is not much nearer to us, tho’ in a quite different part of the Earth: we buy it ’tis true from the Spaniards; but not being their Product they are forc’d to fetch it for us from the remotest Corner of the New World in the West-Indies.a While [413]so many Sailors are broiling in the Sun and sweltered with Heat in the East and West of us, another set of them are freezing in the North to fetch Potashes from Russia.1

  When we are thoroughly acquainted with all the Variety of Toil and Labour, the Hardships and Calamities that must be undergone to compass the End I speak of, and we consider the vast Risques and Perils that are run in those Voyages, and that few of them are ever made but at the Expence, not only of the Health and Welfare, but even the Lives of many: When we are acquainted with, I say, and duly consider the things I named, it is scarce possible to conceive a Tyrant so inhuman and void of Shame, that beholding things in the same View, he should exact such terrible Services from his Innocent Slaves; and at the same time dare to own, that he did it for no other Reason, than the Satisfaction a Man receives from having a Garment made of Scarlet or Crimson Cloth. But to what Height of Luxury must a Nation be arrived, where not only the King’s Officers, but likewise his Guards, even the private Soldiers should have such impudent Desires!

  But if we turn the Prospect, and look on all those Labours as so many voluntary Actions, belonging to different Callings and Occupations that Men are brought up to for a Livelihood, and in which every one Works for himself, how much soever he may seem to Labour for others: If we consider, that even the Sailors [414]who undergo the greatest Hardships, as soon as one Voyage is ended, even after Ship-wrack,a are looking out and solliciting for Employment in another: If we consider, I say, and look on these things in another View, we shall find that the Labour of the Poor is so far from being a Burthen and an Imposition upon them; that to have Employment is a Blessing, which in their Addresses to Heaven they pray for, and to procure it for the generality of them is the greatest Care of every Legislature.

  As Children and even Infants are the Apes of others, so all Youth have an ardent desire of being Men and Women, and become often ridiculous by their impatient Endeavours to appear what every body sees they are not; all large Societies are not a little indebted to this Folly for the Perpetuity or at least long Continuance of Trades once Established. What Pains will young People take, and what Violence will they not commit upon themselves, to attain to insignificant and often blameable Qualifications, which for want of Judgment and Experience they admire in others, that are Superior to them in Age! This fondness of Imitation makes them accustom themselves by degrees to the Use of things that were Irksome, if not intolerable to them at first, till they know not how to leave them, and are often very Sorry for having inconsiderately increas’d the Necessaries of Life without any Necessity. What Estates have been got by Tea and Coffee! [415]What a vast Traffick is drove, what a variety of Labour is performed in the World to the Maintenance of Thousands of Families that altogether depend on two silly if not odious Customs; the taking of Snuff and smoking of Tobacco; both which it is certain do infinitely more hurt than good to those that are addicted to them! I shall go further, and demonstrate the Usefulness of private Losses and Misfortunes to the Publick, and the folly of our Wishes, when we pretend to be most Wise and Serious. The Fire of London was a great Calamity, but if the Carpenters, Bricklayers, Smiths, and all, not only that are employed in Building but likewise those that made and dealt in the same Manufactures and other Merchandizes that were Burnt, and other Trades again that got by them when they were in full Employ, were to Vote against those who lost by the Fire; the Rejoicings would equal if not exceed the Complaints.1 In recruiting what is lost and destroy’d by Fire, Storms, Sea-fights, Sieges, Battles, a considerable part of Trade consists; the truth of which and whatever I have said of the Nature of Society will plainly appear from what follows.

  It would be a difficult Task to enumerate all the Advantages and different Benefits, that accrue to a Nation on account of Shipping and Navigation; but if we only take into Consideration the Ships themselves, and every Vessel great and small that is made use of for Water-Carriage, from the least Wherry to a First [416]Rate Man of War: the Timber and Hands that are employed in the Building of them; and consider the Pitch, Tar, Rosin, Grease; the Masts, Yards, Sails and Riggings; the Variety of Smiths Work, the Cables, Oars and every thing else belonging to them, we shall find that to furnish only such a Nation as ours with all these Necessaries makes a up a considerable part of the Traffick of Europe, without speaking of the Stores and Ammunition of all sorts, that are consumed in them, or the Mariners, Watermen and others with their Families, that are maintained by them.

  But should we on the other Hand take a View of the manifold Mischiefs and Variety of Evils, moral as well as natural, that befal Nations on the Score of Seafaring and their Commerce with Strangers, the Prospect would be very frightful; and could we suppose a large populous Island, that should be wholly unacquainted with Ships and Sea Affairs, but otherwise a Wise and Well-govern’d People; and that some Angel or their Genius should lay before them a Scheme or Draught, where they might see, on the one side, all the Riches and real Advantages that would be acquired by Navigation in a thousand Years; and on the other, the Wealth and Lives that would be lost, and all the other Calamities, that would be unavoidably sustained on Account of it during the same time, I am confident, they would look upon Ships with Horrour and Detestation, and [417]that their Prudent Rulers would severely forbid the making and inventing all Buildings or Machines to go to Sea with, of what shape or denomination soever, and prohibit all such abominable Contrivances on great Penalties, if not the Pain of Death.

  But to let alone the necessary Consequence of Foreign Trade, the Corruption of Manners, as well as Plagues, Poxes, and other Diseases, that are brought to us by Shipping, should we only cast our Eyes on what is either to be imputed to the Wind and Weather, the Treachery of the Seas, the Ice of the North, the Vermin of the South, the Darkness of Nights, and unwholsomeness of Climates, or else occasioned by the want of good Provisions and the Faults of Mariners, the Unskilfulness of some, and the Neglect and Drunkenness of others; and should we consider the Losses of Men and Treasure swallow’d up in the Deep, the Tears and Necessities of Widows and Orphans made by the Sea, the Ruin of Merchants and the Consequences, the continual Anxieties that Parents and Wives are in for the Safety of their Children and Husbands, and not forget the many Pangs and Heart-akes that are felt throughout a Trading Nation by Owners and Insurers at every blast of Wind; should we cast our Eyes, I say, on these Things, consider with due Attention and give them the Weight they deserve, would it not be amazing, how a Nation of thinking People should talk of their Ships and Navigation [418]as a peculiar Blessing to them, and placing an uncommon Felicity in having an Infinity of Vessels dispers’d through the wide World, and always some going to and others coming from every part of the Universe?

  But let us once in our Consideration on these Things confine our selves to what the Ships suffer only, the Vessels themselves with their Rigging and Appurtenances, without thinking on the Freight they carry, or the Hands that work them, and we shall find that the Damage sustain’d that way only is very considerable, and must one Year with another amount to vast Sums: The Ships that are founder’d at Sea, split against Rocks and swallow’d up by Sands, some by the fierceness of Tempests altogether, others by that and the want of Pilots Experiencea and Knowledge of the Coasts: The Masts that are blown down or forc’d to be cut and thrown Over-board, the Yards, Sails and Cordage of different sizes that are destroy’d by Storms, and the Anchors that are lost: Add to these the necessary Repairs of Leaks sprung and other Hurts receiv’d from the rage of Winds, and the violence of the Waves: Many Ships are set on Fire by Carelesness, and the Effects of strong Liquors, which none are more addicted to than Sailors: Sometimes unhealthy Climates, at others the badness of Provision breed Fatal Distempers that sweep away the greatest part of the Crew, and not a few Ships are lost for want of Hands.

  [419]These are all Calamities inseparable from Navigation, and seem to be great Impediments that clog the Wheels of Foreign Commerce. How happy would a Merchant think himself, if his Ships should always have fine Weather, and the Wind he wish’d for, and every Mariner he employ’d, from the highest to the lowest, be a knowing experienc’d Sailor, and a careful, sober, good Man! Was such a Felicity to be had for Prayers, what Owner of Ships is there or Dealer in Europe, nay the whole World, who would not be all Day long teazing Heaven to obtain such a Blessing for himself, without regard what Detriment it would do to others? Such a Petition would certainly be a very unconscionable one, yet where is the Man who imagines not that he has a Right to make it? And therefore, as every one pretends to an equal claim to those Favours, let us, without reflecting on the Impossibility of its being true, suppose all their Prayers effectual and their Wishes answer’d, and afterwards examine into the Result of such a Happiness.

  Ships would last as long as Timber-Houses to the full, because they are as strongly built, and the latter are liable to suffer by high Winds and other Storms, which the first by our Supposition are not to be: So that, before there would be any real Occasion for New Ships, the Master Builders now in being and every body under them, that is set to Work about them, would all die a Natural Death, if they [420]were not starv’d or come to some Untimely End: For in the first place, all Ships having prosperous Gales, and never waiting for the Wind, they would make very quick Voyages both out and home: Secondly, no Merchandizes would be damag’d by the Sea, or by stress of Weather thrown overboard, but the entire Lading would always come safe ashore; and hence it would follow, that Three Parts in Four of the Merchant-men already made would be superfluous for the present, and the stock of Ships that are now in the World serve a vast many Years. Masts and Yards would last as long as the Vessels themselves, and we should not need to trouble Norway on that score a great while yet. The Sails and Rigging indeed of the few Ships made use of would wear out, but not a quarter part so fast as now they do, for they often suffer more in one Hour’s Storm, than in ten Days Fair Weather.

  Anchors and Cables there would be seldom any occasion for, and one of each would last a Ship time out of mind: This Article alone would yield many a tedious Holiday to the Anchor-Smiths and the Rope-Yards. This general want of Consumption would have such an Influence on the Timber-Merchants, and all that import Iron, Sail-Cloth, Hemp, Pitch, Tar, &c. that four parts in five of what, in the beginning of this Reflexion on Sea-Affairs, I said, made a considerable Branch of the Traffick of Europe, would be entirely Lost.

  [421]I have only touch’d hitherto on the Consequences of this Blessing in relation to Shipping, but it would be detrimental to all other Branches of Trade besides, and destructive to the Poor of every Country, that exports any thing of their own Growth or Manufacture. The Goods and Merchandizes that every Year go to the Deep, that are spoil’d at Sea by Salt Water, by Heat, by Vermine, destroy’d by Fire, or lost to the Merchant by other Accidents, all owing to Storms or tedious Voyages, or else the Neglect or Rapacity of Sailors; such Goods, I say, and Merchandizes are a considerable part of what every Year is sent abroad throughout the World, and must have employ’d great Multitudes of Poor before they could come on board. A Hundred Bales of Cloth that are burnt or sunk in the Mediterranean, are as Beneficial to the Poor in England, as if they had safely arriv’d at Smyrna or Aleppo, and every Yard of them had been Retail’d in the Grand Signior’s Dominions.

  The Merchant may break, and by him the Clothier, the Dyer, the Packer, and other Tradesmen, the middling People, may suffer; but the Poor that were set to work about them can never lose. Day-Labourers commonly receive their Earnings once a Week, and all the Working People that were Employ’d either in any of the various Branches of the Manufacture it self, or the several Land and Water Carriages it requires to be brought to perfection, from [422]the Sheep’s Back, to the Vessel it was enter’d in, were paid, at least much the greatest part of them, before the Parcel came on board. Should any of my Readers draw Conclusions in infinitum from my Assertions that Goods sunk or burnt are as beneficial to the Poor as if they had been well sold and put to their proper Uses, I would count him a Caviller and not worth answering: Should it always Rain and the Sun never shine, the Fruits of the Earth would soon be rotten and destroy’d; and yet it is no Paradox to affirm, that, to have Grass or Corn, Rain is as necessary as the Sunshine.

  In what manner this Blessing of Fair Winds and Fine Weather would affect the Mariners themselves, and the breed of Sailors, may be easily conjectured from what has been said already. As there would hardly one Ship in four be made use of, so the Vessels themselves being always exempt from Storms, fewer Hands would be required to Work them, and consequently five in six of the Seamen we have might be spared, which in this Nation, most Employments of the Poor being overstock’d, would be but an untoward Article. As soon as those superfluous Seamen shoulda be extinct, it would be impossible to Man such large Fleets as we could at present: But I do not look upon this as a Detriment, or the least Inconveniency: for the Reduction of Mariners as to Numbers being general throughout the World, all the Consequence would be, that in case of War the [423]Maritime Powers would be obliged to fight with fewer Ships, which would be an Happiness Instead of an Evil: and would you carry this Felicity to the highest pitch of Perfection, it is but to add one desirable Blessing more, and no Nation shall ever fight at all: The Blessing I hint at is, what all good Christians are bound to pray for, viz. that all Princes and States would be true to their Oaths and Promises, and Just to one another, as well as their own Subjects; that they might have a greater regard for the Dictates of Conscience and Religion, than those of State Politicks and Worldly Wisdom, and prefer the Spiritual Welfare of others to their own Carnal Desires, and the Honesty, the Safety, the Peace and Tranquillity of the Nations they govern, to their own Love of Glory, Spirit of Revenge, Avarice, and Ambition.

  The last Paragraph will to many seem a Digression, that makes little for my purpose; but what I mean by it is to demonstrate that Goodness, Integrity, and a peaceful Disposition in Rulers and Governors of Nations, are not the proper Qualifications to Aggrandize them, and increase their Numbers; any more than the uninterrupted Series of Success that every Private Person would be blest with, if he could, and which I have shewn would be Injurious and Destructive to a large Society, that should place a Felicity in worldly Greatness, and being envied by their Neighbours, [424]and value themselves upon their Honour and their Strength.

  No Man needs to guard himself against Blessings, but Calamities require Hands to avert them. The amiable Qualities of Man put none of the Species upon stirring: His Honesty, his love of Company, his Goodness, Content and Frugality are so many Comforts to an Indolent Society, and the more real and unaffected they are, the more they keep every thing at Rest and Peace, and the more they will every where prevent Trouble and Motion it self. The same almost may be said of the Gifts and Munificence of Heaven, and all the Bounties and Benefits of Nature: This is certain, that the more extensive they are, and the greater Plenty we have of them, the more we save our Labour. But the Necessities, the Vices and Imperfections of Man, together with the various Inclemencies of the Air and other Elements, contain in them the Seeds of all Arts, Industry and Labour: It is the Extremities of Heat and Cold, the Inconstancy and Badness of Seasons, the Vidence and Uncertainty of Winds, the vast Power and Treachery of Water, the Rage and Untractableness of Fire, and the Stubbornness and Sterility of the Earth, that rack our Invention, how we shall either avoid the Mischiefs they may produce, or correct the Malignity of them and turn their several Forces to our owna Advantage a thousand different ways; while we are employ’d in supplying the infinite variety [425]of our Wants, which will ever be multiply’d as our Knowledge is enlarged, and our Desires increase. Hunger, Thirst and Nakedness are the first Tyrants that force us to stir: afterwards, our Pride, Sloth, Sensuality and Fickleness are the great Patrons that promote all Arts and Sciences, Trades, Handicrafts and Callings; while the great Taskmasters, Necessity, Avarice, Envy, and Ambition, each in the Class that belongs to him, keep the Members of the Society to their labour, and make them all submit, most of them chearfully, to the Drudgery of their Station; Kings and Princes not excepted.

  The greater the Variety of Tradesa and Manufactures, the more operose they are, and the more they are divided in many Branches, the greater Numbers may be contained in a Society without being in one another’s way, and the more easily they may be render’d a Rich, Potent and Flourishing People. Few Virtues employ any Hands, and therefore they may render a small Nation Good, but they can never make a Great one. To be strong and laborious, patient in Difficulties, and assiduous in all Business, are commendable Qualities; but as they do their own Work, so they are their own Reward, and neither Art norb Industry have ever paid their Compliments to them; whereas the Excellency of Human Thought and Contrivance has been and is yet no where more conspicuous than in thec Variety of Tools and Instruments of Workmen and Artificers, and the [426]multiplicity of Engines, that were all invented either to assist the Weakness of Man, to correct his many Imperfections, to gratify his Laziness, or obviate his Impatience.

  It is in Morality as it is in Nature, there is nothing so perfectly Good in Creatures that it cannot be hurtful to any one of the Society, nor any thing so entirely Evil, but it may prove beneficial to some part or other of the Creation: So that things are only Good and Evil in reference to something else, and according to the Light and Position they are placed in. What pleases us is good in that Regard, and by this Rule every Man wishes well for himself to the best of his Capacity, with little Respect to his Neighbour. There never was any Rain yet, tho’ in a very dry Season when Publick Prayers had been made for it, but somebody or other who wanted to go abroad wished it might be Fair Weather only for that Day. When the Corn stands thick in the Spring, and the generality of the Country rejoice at the pleasing Object, the rich Farmer who kept his last Year’s Crop for a better Market, pines at the sight, and inwardly grieves at the Prospect of a plentiful Harvest. Nay, we shall often hear your idle People openly wish for the Possessions of others, and not to be injurious forsooth add this wise Proviso, that it should be without Detriment to the Owners: But I’m afraid they often do it without any such Restriction in their Hearts.

  [427]It is a Happiness that the Prayers as well as Wishes of most People are insignificant and good for nothing; or else the only thing that could keep Mankind fit for Society, and the World from falling into Confusion, would be the Impossibility that all the Petitions made to Heaven should be granted. A dutiful pretty young Gentleman newly come from his Travels lies at the Briel1 waiting with Impatience for an Easterly Wind to waft him over to England, where a dying Father, who wants to embrace and give him his Blessing before he yields his Breath, lies hoaning2 after him, melted with Grief and Tenderness: In the mean while a British Minister, who is to take care of the Protestant Interest in Germany, is riding Post to Harwich, and in violent haste to be at Ratisbone before the Diet breaks up. At the same time a rich Fleet lies ready for the Mediterranean, and a fine Squadron is bound for the Baltick. All these things may probably happen at once, at least there is no difficulty in supposinga they should. If these People are not Atheists, or very great Reprobates they will all have some good Thoughts before they go to Sleep, and consequently about Bed-time they must all differently pray for a fair Wind and a prosperous Voyage. I don’t say but it is their Duty, and it is possible they may be all heard, but I am sure they can’t be all served at the same time.

  [428]After this I flatter my self to have demonstrated that, neither the Friendly Qualities and kind Affections that are natural to Man, nor the real Virtues he is capable of acquiring by Reason and Self-Denial, are the Foundation of Society; but that what we call Evil in this World, Moral as well as Natural, is the grand Principle that makes us sociable Creatures, the solid Basis, the Life and Support of all Trades and Employments without Exception: That there we must look for the true Origin of all Arts and Sciences, and that the Moment Evil ceases, the Society must be spoiled, if not totally dissolved.

  I could add a thousand things to enforce and further illustrate this Truth with abundance of Pleasure; but for fear of being troublesome I shall make an End, tho’ I confess that I have not been half so sollicitous to gain the Approbation of others, as I have study’d to please my self in this Amusement; yet if ever I hear, that by following this Diversion I have given any to the intelligent Reader, it will always add to the Satisfaction I have received in the Performance. In the hope my Vanity forms of this I leave him with regret, and concludea with repeating the seeming Paradox, the Substance of which is advanced in the Title Page; that Private Vices by the dextrous Management of a skilful Politician may be turned into Publick Benefits.

  THE END

  [a]Society.] Society, 32

  [1]Cf. above, i. 233, n. 2.

  [b]expects 23, 24

  [a]it. In] it in 32

  [1]In opposition to the belief of some ‘of our most admired modern philosophers … that virtue and vice had, after all, no other law or measure than mere fashion and vogue’ (Characteristics, ed. Robertson, 1900, i. 56) Shaftesbury argued that ‘any fashion, law, custom or religion which may be ill and vicious itself … can never alter the eternal measures and immutable independent nature of worth and virtue’ (Characteristics i. 255).

  [2]Compare Shaftesbury: ‘This is the honestum, the pulchrum, τὸ κάλον, on which our author [Shaftesbury himself] lays the stress of virtue, and the merits of this cause; as well in his other Treatises as in this of Soliloquy here commented’ (Characteristics, ed. Robertson, 1900, ii. 268, n. 1). Cf. below, i. 325, n.

  [a]Men 32

  [1]The τὸ κάλον is thus explained in Berkeley’s Alciphron, which was an attack on Mandeville: ‘Doubtless there is a beauty of the mind, a charm in virtue, a symmetry and proportion in the moral world. This moral beauty was known to the ancients by the name of honestum, or τὸ κάλον. And, in order to know its force and influence, it may not be amiss to inquire, what it was understood to be, and what light it was placed in, by those who first considered it, and gave it a name. Τὸ κάλον, according to Aristotle is the ,ἐπαινετόν or laudable; according to Plato, it is the ἡδύ or ὠφέλιμον, pleasant or profitable, which is meant with respect to a reasonable mind and its true interest’ (Berkeley, Works ed. Fraser, 1901, ii. 127).

  [a]but 28–32

  [a]bar 23, 24

  [b]Coronation 23

  [1]Compare La Bruyère’s Les Caractères (Œuvres, ed. Servois, 1865–78, ii. 135–6): ‘Le fleuriste a un jardin dans un faubourg. … Vous le voyez planté, et qui a pris racine au milieu de ses tulipes. …. Dieu et la nature sont en tout cela ce qu’il n’admire point; il ne va pas plus loin que l’oignon de sa tulipe, qu’il ne livreroit pas pour mille écus, et qu’il donnera pour rien quand les tulipes seront négligées et que les œillets auront prévalu.’ La Bruyère, like Mandeville, is using this simile to illustrate the arbitrary changefulness of fashion.

  [a]vast] a vast 23

  [b]them 23

  [2]Cf. Descartes: ‘Mais ayant appris, dés le College, qu’on ne sçauroit rien imaginer de si estrange & si peu croyable, qu’il n’ait esté dit par quelqu’vn des Philosophes; … et comment, iusques aux modes de nos habits, la mesme chose qui nous a plû il y a dix ans, & qui nous plaira peutestre encore auant dix ans, nous semble maintenant extrauagante & ridicule …’ (Œuvres, Paris, 1897–1910, vi. 16, in Discours de la Méthode, pt. 2).

  [3]Flower-beds.

  [a]is 32

  [1]For these laws ordaining burial in ‘sheep’s wool only’ see Statutes at Large 18 Charles II, c. 4, and 30 Charles II, stat. 1, c. 3.

  [1]In his Free Thoughts (1729), p. 212, Mandeville mentioned Luther as having defended polygamy. There is ground, however, for believing that Mandeville was thinking of Sir Thomas More. Erasmus, in a letter (Opera Omnia, Leyden, 1703–6, iii (1). 476–7), mentioned More as defending Plato’s argument for community of wives and spoke of More as a great genius. Now, Mandeville, who was intimately acquainted with the writings of Erasmus (see above, i. cvi-cix), might well have remembered this passage.—To be sure, Mandeville might have been thinking of Plato.
  
  The French translator of the Fable (ed. 1750, ii. 180, n.) contends improbably that Mandeville refers to Lyserius [Johann Lyser], who, ‘caché sous le nom de Theophilus Alethæus, publia en MDCLXXVI. in 8. un Ouvrage en faveur de la Polygamia sous le titre de Polygamia Triumphatrix’.
  
  Mandeville could not have been referring to Milton, for the Treatise of Christian Doctrine, which alone contains Milton’s defence of polygamy, was not discovered and published till 1825.

  [1]For Mandeville’s pyrrhonistic criticism of codes and standards I give no sources, since such criticism was so much a commonplace. In so far as Mandeville drew it from specific reading, he probably got it chiefly from Hobbes, Bayle, and, possibly, Locke; cf. above, i. ciii–cv, cix–cx, and 315, n. 3.

  [1]Shaftesbury had John Locke for tutor. This paragraph is a personal attack on Shaftesbury, as is evidenced in Mandeville’s index (see under Shaftsbury).

  [1]Compare the following parallels: Spinoza: ‘Affectus coërceri nec tolli potest, nisi per affectum contrarium et fortiorem affectu coërcendo’ (Ethica, ed. Van Vloten and Land, The Hague, 1895, pt. 4, prop. 7); the Chevalier de Méré: ‘C’est toûjours un bon moyen pour vaincre une passion, que de la combattre par une autre’ (Maximes, Sentences, et Reflexions, Paris, 1687, maxim 546); Abbadie: ‘… nos connoissances … n’ont point de force par elles mêmes. Elles l’empruntent toute des affections du cœur. De là vient que les hommes ne persuadent guere, que quand ils font entrer … le sentiment dans leurs raisons …’ (L’Art de se connoitre soy-meme, The Hague, 1711, ii. 226).

  [a]underwent.] underwent, 32

  [a]Trumpteer 32

  [1]See Quintilian IX. iv. 41, and Juvenal, Satires x. 122, where the quotation from Cicero’s De Consulatu Suo (Frag. Poem. x (b), 9, ed. Mueller) is given, ‘o fortunatam natam me consule Romam’.

  [a]This bears … gloss] This is great Stress laid upon 23

  [1]That man is naturally gregarious is a central thought with Shaftesbury. ‘Nor will any one deny’, he writes (Characteristics, ed. Robertson, 1900, i. 280–1), ‘that this affection of a creature towards the good of the species or common nature is as proper or natural to him as it is to any organ, part, or member of an animal body, or mere vegetable, to work in its known course and regular way of growth.’ Another such passage runs: ‘How the wit of man should so puzzle this cause as to make civil government and society appear a kind of invention and creature of art, I know not. For my own part, methinks, this herding principle, and associating inclination, is seen so natural and strong in most men, that one might readily affirm ’twas even from the violence of this passion that so much disorder arose in the general society of mankind. … All men have naturally their share of this combining principle. … For the most generous spirits are the most combining’ (Characteristics i. 74–5). And again, ‘In short, if generation be natural, if natural affection and the care and nurture of the offspring be natural, things standing as they do with man, and the creature being of that form and constitution he now is, it follows “that society must also be natural to him” and “that out of society and community he never did, nor ever can, subsist” ’ (Characteristics ii. 83).

  [b]is add. 24

  [1]Horace, Satires I. ix.

  [a]know 23–25

  [b]Bodies.] Bodies, 32

  [c]should 29

  [a]them 23

  [b]o’Clock] a Clock 23; a’ Clock 24–29

  [a]Virtue 24–32; Virtues 24 Errata

  [a]Hands 32

  [a]or 23–29

  [a]Even, Solid] even Solid 23

  [b]Men 23, 24

  [a]the] the the 32

  [a]all we think was] all, we think, was 23

  [a]cannot] shall not 23

  [a]coustrues 32

  [1]Cf. above, i. 108 sqq. and i. 182.

  [a]by 32

  [2]See above, i. 179, n. 1.

  [a]or 23–29

  [b]Brave 23; brave 24

  [a]East-Indies 25–32

  [1]The Spectator, no. 69, for 19 May 1711, shows some literary resemblances to this paragraph, but Addison has made little attempt to deduce economic principles.

  [a]Ship-wrack] a Ship-wreck 23

  [1]Cf. Petty: ‘. . . better to burn a thousand mens labours for a time, than to let those thousand men by non-employment lose their faculty of labouring’ (Economic Writings, ed. Hull, 1899, i. 60).

  [a]make 25–32

  [a]Pilots Experience] Pilots, Experience 23

  [a]would 23, 24

  [a]own om. 29

  [a]Trade 23, 24

  [b]or 23, 24

  [c]the om. 29

  [1]A Dutch seaport near Rotterdam.

  [2]Honing; moaning or yearning.

  [a]supposiing 32

  [a]concluding 29

• Back to Top

  6: Session IVa: Adam Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments

  This session will enable us to explore Adam Smith’s notions of vice and virtue and to compare them with those of Mandeville and Shaftesbury.

  Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments, ed. D.D. Raphael and A.L. Macfie, vol. I of the Glasgow Edition of the Works and Correspondence of Adam Smith (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 1982). Chapter: SECTION III: Of the Effects of Prosperity and Adversity upon the Judgment of Mankind with regard to the Propriety of Action; and why it is more easy to obtain their Approbation in the one state than in the other

  Accessed from oll.libertyfund.org/title/192/200081 on 2008-11-14

  The Glasgow Edition of the Works and Correspondence of Adam Smith and the associated volumes are published in hardcover by Oxford University Press. The six titles of the Glasgow Edition, but not the associated volumes, are being published in softcover by Liberty Fund. The online edition is published by Liberty Fund under license from Oxford University Press.

  ©Oxford University Press 1976. All rights reserved. No part of this material may be stored transmitted retransmitted lent or reproduced in any form or medium without the permission of Oxford University Press.

  ---

  SECTION III

  Of the Effects of Prosperity and Adversity upon the Judgment of Mankind with regard to the Propriety of Action; and why it is more easy to obtain their Approbation in the one state than in the other

  chap. i

  That though our sympathy with sorrow is generally a more lively sensation than our sympathy with joy, it commonly falls much more short of the violence of what is^anaturally^afelt by the person principally concerned

  1Our sympathy with sorrow, though not more real, has been more taken notice of than our sympathy with joy. The word sympathy, in its most proper and primitive signification, denotes our fellow–feeling with the sufferings, not that with the enjoyments, of others. A late ingenious and subtile philosopher thought it necessary to prove, by arguments, that we had a real sympathy with joy, and that congratulation was a principle of human nature.1 Nobody, I believe, ever thought it necessary to prove that compassion was such.

  2First of all, our sympathy with sorrow is, in some sense, more universal than that with joy. Though sorrow is excessive, we may still have some fellow–feeling with it. What we feel does not, indeed, in this case, amount to that complete sympathy, to that perfect harmony and correspondence of sentiments which constitutes approbation. We do not weep, and exclaim, and lament, with the sufferer. We are sensible, on the contrary, of his weakness and of the extravagance of his passion, and yet often feel a very sensible concern upon his account. But if we do not entirely enter into, and go along with, the joy of another, we have no sort of regard or fellow–feeling for it. The man who skips and dances about with that intemperate and senseless joy which we cannot accompany him in, is the object of our contempt and indignation.

  3Pain besides, whether of mind or body, is a more pungent sensation than pleasure, and our sympathy with pain, though it falls greatly short of what is naturally felt by the sufferer, is generally a more lively and distinct perception than our sympathy with pleasure, though this last often approaches more nearly, as I shall shew immediately, to the natural vivacity of the original passion.

  4Over and above all this, we often struggle to keep down our sympathy with the sorrow of others. Whenever we are not under the observation of the sufferer, we endeavour, for our own sake, to suppress it as much as we can, and we are not always successful. The opposition which we make to it, and the reluctance with which we yield to it, necessarily oblige us to take more particular notice of it. But we never have occasion to make this opposition to our sympathy with joy. If there is any envy in the case, we never feel the least propensity towards it; and if there is none, we give way to it without any reluctance. On the contrary, as we are always ashamed of our own envy, we often pretend, and sometimes really wish to sympathize with the joy of others, when by that disagreeable sentiment we are disqualified from doing so. We are glad, we say, on account of our neighbour’s good fortune, when in our hearts, perhaps, we are really sorry. We often feel a sympathy with sorrow when we would wish to be rid of it; and we often miss that with joy when we would be glad to have it. The obvious observation, therefore, which it naturally falls in our way to make, is, that our propensity to sympathize with sorrow must be very strong, and our inclination to sympathize with joy very weak.

  5Notwithstanding this prejudice, however, I will venture to affirm, that, when there is no envy in the case, our propensity to sympathize with joy is much stronger than our propensity to sympathize with sorrow; and that our fellow–feeling for the agreeable emotion approaches much more nearly to the vivacity of what is naturally felt by the persons principally concerned, than that which we conceive for the painful one.

  6We have some indulgence for that excessive grief which we cannot entirely go along with. We know what a prodigious effort is requisite before the sufferer can bring down his emotions to complete harmony and concord with those of the spectator. Though he fails, therefore, we easily pardon him. But we have no such indulgence for the intemperance of joy; because we are not conscious that any such vast effort is requisite to bring it down to what we can entirely enter into. The man who, under the greatest calamities, can command his sorrow, seems worthy of the highest admiration; but he who, in the fulness of prosperity, can in the same manner master his joy, seems hardly to deserve any praise. We are sensible that there is a much wider interval in the one case than in the other, between what is naturally felt by the person principally concerned, and what the spectator can entirely go along with.

  7What can be added to the happiness of the man who is in health, who is out of debt, and has a clear conscience? To one in this situation, all accessions of fortune may properly be said to be superfluous; and if he is much elevated upon account of them, it must be the effect of the most frivolous levity. This situation, however, may very well be called the natural and ordinary state of mankind. Notwithstanding the present misery and depravity of the world, so justly lamented, this really is the state of the greater part of men. The greater part of men, therefore, cannot find any great difficulty in elevating themselves to all the joy which any accession to this situation can well excite in their companion.

  8But though little can be added to this state, much may be taken from it. Though between this condition and the highest pitch of human prosperity, the interval is but a trifle; between it and the lowest depth of misery the distance is immense and prodigious. Adversity, on this account, necessarily depresses the mind of the sufferer much more below its natural state, than prosperity can elevate him above it. The spectator, therefore, must find it much more difficult to sympathize entirely, and keep perfect time, with his sorrow, than thoroughly to enter into his joy, and must depart much further from his own natural and ordinary temper of mind in the one case than in the other. It is on this account, that though our sympathy with sorrow is often a more pungent sensation than our sympathy with joy, it always falls much more short of the violence of what is naturally felt by the person principally concerned.

  9It is agreeable to sympathize with joy; and wherever envy does not oppose it, our heart abandons itself with satisfaction to the highest transports of that delightful sentiment. But it is painful to go along with grief, and we always enter into it with reluctance* . When we attend to the representation of a tragedy, we struggle against that sympathetic sorrow which the entertainment inspires as long as we can, and we give way to it at last only when we can no longer avoid it: we even then endeavour to cover our concern from the company. If we shed any tears, we carefully conceal them, and are afraid, lest the spectators, not entering into this excessive tenderness, should regard it as effeminacy and weakness. The wretch whose misfortunes call upon our compassion feels with what reluctance we are likely to enter into his sorrow, and therefore proposes his grief to us with fear and hesitation: he even smothers the half of it, and is ashamed, upon account of this hard–heartedness of mankind, to give vent to the fulness of his affliction. It is otherwise with the man who riots in joy and success. Wherever envy does not interest us against him, he expects our completest sympathy. He does not fear, therefore, to announce himself with shouts of exultation, in full confidence that we are heartily disposed to go along with him.

  10Why should we be more ashamed to weep than to laugh before company? We may often have as real occasion to do the one as to do the other: but we always feel that the spectators are more likely to go along with us in the agreeable, than in the painful emotion. It is always miserable to complain, even when we are oppressed by the most dreadful calamities. But the triumph of victory is not always ungraceful. Prudence, indeed, would often advise us to bear our prosperity with more moderation; because prudence would teach us to avoid that envy which this very triumph is, more than any thing, apt to excite.

  11How hearty are the acclamations of the mob, who never bear any envy to their superiors, at a triumph or a public entry? And how sedate and moderate is commonly their grief at an execution? Our sorrow at a funeral generally amounts to no more than an affected gravity; but our mirth at a christening or a marriage, is always from the heart, and without any affectation. Upon these, and all such joyous occasions, our satisfaction, though not so durable, is often as lively as that of the persons principally concerned. Whenever we cordially congratulate our friends, which, however, to the disgrace of human nature, we do but seldom, their joy literally becomes our joy: we are, for the moment, as happy as they are: our heart swells and overflows with real pleasure: joy and complacency sparkle from our eyes, and animate every feature of our countenance, and every gesture of our body.

  12But, on the contrary, when we condole with our friends in their afflictions, how little do we feel, in comparison of what they feel? We sit down by them, we look at them, and while they relate to us the circumstances of their misfortune, we listen to them with gravity and attention. But while their narration is every moment interrupted by those natural bursts of passion which often seem almost to choak them in the midst of it; how far are the languid emotions of our hearts from keeping time to the transports of theirs? We may be sensible, at the same time, that their passion is natural, and no greater than what we ourselves might feel upon the like occasion. We may even inwardly reproach ourselves with our own want of sensibility, and perhaps, on that account, work ourselves up into an artificial sympathy, which, however, when it is raised, is always the slightest and most transitory imaginable; and generally, as soon as we have left the room, vanishes, and is gone for ever. Nature, it seems, when she loaded us with our own sorrows, thought that they were enough, and therefore did not command us to take any further share in those of others, than what was necessary to prompt us to relieve them.

  13It is on account of this dull sensibility to the afflictions of others, that magnanimity amidst great distress appears always so divinely graceful. His behaviour is genteel and agreeable who can maintain his cheerfulness amidst a number of frivolous disasters. But he appears to be more than mortal who can support in the same manner the most dreadful calamities. We feel what an immense effort is requisite to silence those violent emotions which naturally agitate and distract those in his situation. We are amazed to find that he can command himself so entirely. His firmness, at the same time, perfectly coincides with our insensibility. He makes no demand upon us for that more exquisite degree of sensibility which we find, and which we are mortified to find, that we do not possess. There is the most perfect correspondence between his sentiments and ours, and on that account the most perfect propriety in his behaviour. It is a propriety too, which, from our experience of the usual weakness of human nature, we could not reasonably have expected he should be able to maintain. We wonder with surprise and astonishment at that strength of mind which is capable of so noble and generous an effort. The sentiment of complete sympathy and approbation, mixed and animated with wonder and surprise, constitutes what is properly called admiration, as has already been more than once taken notice of. Cato, surrounded on all sides by his enemies, unable to resist them, disdaining to submit to them, and reduced, by the proud maxims of that age, to the necessity of destroying himself; yet never shrinking from his misfortunes, never supplicating with the lamentable voice of wretchedness, those miserable sympathetic tears which we are always so unwilling to give; but on the contrary, arming himself with manly fortitude, and the moment before he executes his fatal resolution, giving, with his usual tranquillity, all necessary orders for the safety of his friends; appears to Seneca, that great preacher of insensibility, a spectacle which even the gods themselves might behold with pleasure and admiration.3

  14Whenever we meet, in common life, with any examples of such heroic magnanimity, we are always extremely affected. We are more apt to weep and shed tears for such as, in this manner, seem to feel nothing for themselves, than for those who give way to all the weakness of sorrow: and in this particular case, the sympathetic grief of the spectator appears to go beyond the original passion in the person principally concerned. The friends of Socrates all wept when he drank the last potion, while he himself expressed the gayest and most cheerful tranquillity.4 Upon all such occasions the spectator makes no effort, and has no occasion to make any, in order to conquer his sympathetic sorrow. He is under no fear that it will transport him to any thing that is extravagant and improper; he is rather pleased with the sensibility of his own heart, and gives way to it with complacence and self–approbation. He gladly indulges, therefore, the most melancholy views which can naturally occur to him, concerning the calamity of his friend, for whom, perhaps, he never felt so exquisitely before, the tender and tearful passion of love. But it is quite otherwise with the person principally concerned. He is obliged, as much as possible, to turn away his eyes from whatever is either naturally terrible or disagreeable in his situation. Too serious an attention to those circumstances, he fears, might make so violent an impression upon him, that he could no longer keep within the bounds of moderation, or render himself the object of the complete sympathy and approbation of the spectators. He fixes his thoughts, therefore, upon those only which are agreeable, the applause and admiration which he is about to deserve by the heroic magnanimity of his behaviour. To feel that he is capable of so noble and generous an effort, to feel that in this dreadful situation he can still act as he would desire to act, animates and transports him with joy, and enables him to support that triumphant gaiety which seems to exult in the victory he thus gains over his misfortunes.

  15On the contrary, he always appears, in some measure, mean and despicable, who is sunk in sorrow and dejection upon account of any calamity of his own. We cannot bring ourselves to feel for him what he feels for himself, and what, perhaps, we should feel for ourselves if in his situation: we, therefore, despise him; unjustly, perhaps, if any sentiment could be regarded as unjust, to which we are by nature irresistibly determined. The weakness of sorrow never appears in any respect agreeable, except when it arises from what we feel for others more than from what we feel for ourselves. A son, upon the death of an indulgent and respectable father, may give way to it without much blame. His sorrow is chiefly founded upon a sort of sympathy with his departed parent; and we readily enter into this humane emotion. But if he should indulge the same weakness upon account of any misfortune which affected himself only, he would no longer meet with any such indulgence. If he should be reduced to beggary and ruin, if he should be exposed to the most dreadful dangers, if he should even be led out to a public execution, and there shed one single tear upon the scaffold, he would disgrace himself for ever in the opinion of all the gallant and generous part of mankind. Their compassion for him, however, would be very strong, and very sincere; but as it would still fall short of this excessive weakness, they would have no pardon for the man who could thus expose himself in the eyes of the world. His behaviour would affect them with shame rather than with sorrow; and the dishonour which he had thus brought upon himself would appear to them the most lamentable circumstance in his misfortune. How did it disgrace the memory of the intrepid Duke of Biron,5 who had so often braved death in the field, that he wept upon the scaffold, when he beheld the state to which he was fallen, and remembered the favour and the glory from which his own rashness had so unfortunately thrown ^dhim!^d

  chap. ii

  Of the origin of Ambition, and of the distinction of Ranks

  1It is because mankind are disposed to sympathize more entirely with our joy than with our sorrow, that we make parade of our riches, and conceal our poverty. Nothing is so mortifying as to be obliged to expose our distress to the view of the public, and to feel, that though our situation is open to the eyes of all mankind, no mortal conceives for us the half of what we suffer. Nay, it is chiefly from this regard to the sentiments of mankind, that we pursue riches and avoid poverty. For to what purpose is all the toil and bustle of this world? what is the end of avarice and ambition, of the pursuit of wealth, of power, and preheminence? Is it to supply the necessities of nature? The wages of the meanest labourer can supply them. We see that they afford him food and clothing, the comfort of a house, and of a family. ^aIf we examined his oeconomy with rigour, we should find^a that he spends a great part of them upon conveniencies, which may be regarded as superfluities, and that, upon extraordinary occasions, he can give something even to vanity and distinction. What then is the cause of our aversion to his situation, and why should those who have been educated in the higher ranks of life, regard it as worse than death, to be reduced to live, even without labour, upon the same simple fare with him, to dwell under the same lowly roof, and to be clothed in the same humble attire? Do they imagine that their stomach is better, or their sleep sounder in a palace than in a cottage? The contrary has been so often observed, and, indeed, is so very obvious, though it had never been observed, that there is nobody ignorant of it. From whence, then, arises that emulation which runs through all the different ranks of men, and what are the advantages which we propose by that great purpose of human life which we call bettering our condition? To be observed, to be attended to, to be taken notice of with sympathy, complacency, and approbation, are all the advantages which we can propose to derive from it. It is the vanity, not the ease, or the pleasure, which interests us. But vanity is always founded upon the belief of our being the object of attention and approbation. The rich man glories in his riches, because he feels that they naturally draw upon him the attention of the world, and that mankind are disposed to go along with him in all those agreeable emotions with which the advantages of his situation so readily inspire him. At the thought of this, his heart seems to swell and dilate itself within him, and he is fonder of his wealth, upon this account, than for all the other advantages it procures him. The poor man, on the contrary, is ashamed of his poverty. He feels that it either places him out of the sight of mankind, or, that if they take any notice of him, they have, however, scarce any fellow–feeling with the misery and distress which he suffers. He is mortified upon both accounts; for though to be overlooked, and to be disapproved of, are things entirely different, yet as obscurity covers us from the daylight of honour and approbation, to feel that we are taken no notice of, necessarily damps the most agreeable hope, and disappoints the most ardent desire, of human nature. The poor man goes out and comes in unheeded, and when in the midst of a crowd is in the same obscurity as if shut up in his own hovel. Those humble cares and painful attentions which occupy those in his situation, afford no amusement to the dissipated and the gay. They turn away their eyes from him, or if the extremity of his distress forces them to look at him, it is only to spurn so disagreeable an object from among them. The fortunate and the proud wonder at the insolence of human wretchedness, that it should dare to present itself before them, and with the loathsome aspect of its misery presume to disturb the serenity of their happiness. The man of rank and distinction, on the contrary, is observed by all the world. Every body is eager to look at him, and to conceive, at least by sympathy, that joy and exultation with which his circumstances naturally inspire him. His actions are the objects of the public care. Scarce a word, scarce a gesture, can fall from him that is altogether neglected. In a great assembly he is the person upon whom all direct their eyes; it is upon him that their passions seem all to wait with expectation, in order to receive that movement and direction which he shall impress upon them; and if his behaviour is not altogether absurd, he has, every moment, an opportunity of interesting mankind, and of rendering himself the object of the observation and fellow–feeling of every body about him. It is this, which, notwithstanding the restraint it imposes, notwithstanding the loss of liberty with which it is attended, renders greatness the object of envy, and compensates, in the opinion of mankind, all that toil, all that anxiety, all those mortifications which must be undergone in the pursuit of it; and what is of yet more consequence, all that leisure, all that ease, all that careless security, which are forfeited for ever by the acquisition.

  2When we consider the condition of the great, in those delusive colours in which the imagination is apt to paint it. it seems to be almost the abstract idea of a perfect and happy state. It is the very state which, in all our waking dreams and idle reveries, we had sketched out to ourselves as the final object of all our desires. We feel, therefore, a peculiar sympathy with the satisfaction of those who are in it. We favour all their inclinations, and forward all their wishes. What pity, we think, that any thing should spoil and corrupt so agreeable a situation! We could even wish them immortal; and it seems hard to us, that death should at last put an end to such perfect enjoyment. It is cruel, we think, in Nature to compel them from their exalted stations to that humble, but hospitable home, which she has provided for all her children. Great King, live for ever! is the compliment, which, after the manner of eastern adulation, we should readily make them, if experience did not teach us its absurdity. Every calamity that befals them, every injury that is done them, excites in the breast of the spectator ten times more compassion and resentment than he would have felt, had the same things happened to other men. It is the misfortunes of Kings only which afford the proper subjects for tragedy. They resemble, in this respect, the misfortunes of lovers. Those two situations are the chief which interest us upon the theatre; because, in spite of all that reason and experience can tell us to the contrary, the prejudices of the imagination attach to these two states a happiness superior to any other. To disturb, or to put an end to such perfect enjoyment, seems to be the most atrocious of all injuries. The traitor who conspires against the life of his monarch, is thought a greater monster than any other murderer. All the innocent blood that was shed in the civil wars, provoked less indignation than the death of Charles I. A stranger to human nature, who saw the indifference of men about the misery of their inferiors, and the regret and indignation which they feel for the misfortunes and sufferings of those above them, would be apt to imagine, that pain must be more agonizing, and the convulsions of death more terrible to persons of higher rank, than to those of meaner stations.

  3Upon this disposition of mankind, to go along with all the passions of the rich and the powerful, is founded the distinction of ranks, and the order of society. Our obsequiousness to our superiors more frequently arises from our admiration for the advantages of their situation, than from any private expectations of benefit from their good–will.1 Their benefits can extend but to a few; but their fortunes interest almost every body. We are eager to assist them in completing a system of happiness that approaches so near to perfection; and we desire to serve them for their own sake, without any other recompense but the vanity or the honour of obliging them. Neither is our deference to their inclinations founded chiefly, or altogether, upon a regard to the utility of such submission, and to the order of society, which is best supported by it. Even when the order of society seems to require that we should oppose them, we can hardly bring ourselves to do it. That kings are the servants of the people, to be obeyed, resisted, deposed, or punished, as the public conveniency may require, is the doctrine of reason and philosophy; but it is not the doctrine of Nature. Nature would teach us to submit to them for their own sake, to tremble and bow down before their exalted station, to regard their smile as a reward sufficient to compensate any services, and to dread their displeasure, though no other evil were to follow from it, as the severest of all mortifications. To treat them in any respect as men, to reason and dispute with them upon ordinary occasions, requires such resolution, that there are few men whose magnanimity can support them in it, unless they are likewise assisted by familiarity and acquaintance. The strongest motives, the most furious passions, fear, hatred, and resentment, are scarce sufficient to balance this natural disposition to respect them: and their conduct must, either justly or unjustly, have excited the highest degree of all those passions, before the bulk of the people can be brought to oppose them with violence, or to desire to see them either punished or deposed. Even when the people have been brought this length, they are apt to relent every moment, and easily relapse into their habitual state of deference to those whom they have been accustomed to look upon as their natural superiors. They cannot stand the mortification of their monarch. Compassion soon takes the place of resentment, they forget all past provocations, their old principles of loyalty revive, and they run to re–establish the ruined authority of their old masters, with the same violence with which they had opposed it. The death of Charles I. brought about the Restoration of the royal family. Compassion for James II. when he was seized by the populace in making his escape on ship–board,2 had almost prevented the Revolution, and made it go on more heavily than before.

  4Do the great seem insensible of the easy price at which they may acquire the public admiration; or do they seem to imagine that to them, as to other men, it must be the purchase either of sweat or of blood? By what important accomplishments is the young nobleman instructed to support the dignity of his rank, and to render himself worthy of that superiority over his fellow–citizens, to which the virtue of his ancestors had raised them? Is it by knowledge, by industry, by patience, by self–denial, or by virtue of any kind? As all his words, as all his motions are attended to, he learns an habitual regard to every circumstance of ordinary behaviour, and studies to perform all those small duties with the most exact propriety. As he is conscious how much he is observed, and how much mankind are disposed to favour all his inclinations, he acts, upon the most indifferent occasions, with that freedom and elevation which the thought of this naturally inspires. His air, his manner, his deportment, all mark that elegant and graceful sense of his own superiority, which those who are born to inferior stations can hardly ever arrive at. These are the arts by which he proposes to make mankind more easily submit to his authority, and to govern their inclinations according to his own pleasure: and in this he is seldom disappointed. These arts, supported by rank and preheminence, are, upon ordinary occasions, sufficient to govern the world. Lewis XIV. during the greater part of his reign, was regarded, not only in France, but over all Europe, as the most perfect model of a great prince. But what were the talents and virtues by which he acquired this great reputation? Was it by the scrupulous and inflexible justice of all his undertakings, by the immense dangers and difficulties with which they were attended, or by the unwearied and unrelenting application with which he pursued them? Was it by his extensive knowledge, by his exquisite judgment, or by his heroic valour? It was by none of these qualities. But he was, first of all, the most powerful prince in Europe, and consequently held the highest rank among kings; and ^bthen,^b says his historian,3 ‘he surpassed all his courtiers in the gracefulness of his shape, and the majestic beauty of his features. The sound of his voice, noble and affecting, gained those hearts which his presence intimidated. He had a step and a deportment which could suit only him and his rank, and which would have been ridiculous in any other person. The embarrassment which he occasioned to those who spoke to him, flattered that secret satisfaction with which he felt his own superiority. The old officer, who was confounded and faultered in asking him a favour, and not being able to conclude his discourse, said to him: Sir, your majesty, I hope, will believe that I do not tremble thus before your enemies: had no difficulty to obtain what he demanded.’ These frivolous accomplishments, supported by his rank, and, no doubt too, by a degree of other talents and virtues, which seems, however, not to have been much above mediocrity, established this prince in the esteem of his own age, and have drawn, even from posterity, a good deal of respect for his memory. Compared with these, in his own times, and in his own presence, no other virtue, it seems, appeared to have any merit. Knowledge, industry, valour, and beneficence, trembled, were abashed, and lost all dignity before them.

  5But it is not by accomplishments of this kind, that the man of inferior rank must hope to distinguish himself. Politeness is so much the virtue of the great, that it will do little honour to any body but themselves. The coxcomb, who imitates their manner, and affects to be eminent by the superior propriety of his ordinary behaviour, is rewarded with a double share of contempt for his folly and presumption. Why should the man, whom nobody thinks it worth while to look at, be very anxious about the manner in which he holds up his head, or disposes of his arms while he walks through a room? He is occupied surely with a very superfluous attention, and with an attention too that marks a sense of his own importance, which no other mortal can go along with. The most perfect modesty and plainness, joined to as much negligence as is consistent with the respect due to the company, ought to be the chief characteristics of the behaviour of a private man. If ever he hopes to distinguish himself, it must be by more important virtues. He must acquire dependants to balance the dependants of the great, and he has no other fund to pay them from, but the labour of his body, and the activity of his mind. He must cultivate these therefore: he must acquire superior knowledge in his profession, and superior industry in the exercise of it. He must be patient in labour, resolute in danger, and firm in distress. These talents he must bring into public view, by the difficulty, importance, and, at the same time, good judgment of his undertakings, and by the severe and unrelenting application with which he pursues them. Probity and prudence, generosity and frankness, must characterize his behaviour upon all ordinary occasions; and he must, at the same time, be forward to engage in all those situations, in which it requires the greatest talents and virtues to act with propriety, but in which the greatest applause is to be acquired by those who can acquit themselves with honour. With what impatience does the man of spirit and ambition, who is depressed by his situation, look round for some great opportunity to distinguish himself? No circumstances, which can afford this, appear to him undesirable. He even looks forward with satisfaction to the prospect of foreign war, or civil dissension; and, with secret transport and delight, sees through all the confusion and bloodshed which attend them, the probability of those wished–for occasions presenting themselves, in which he may draw upon himself the attention and admiration of mankind. The man of rank and distinction, on the contrary, whose whole glory consists in the propriety of his ordinary behaviour, who is contented with the humble renown which this can afford him, and has no talents to acquire any other, is unwilling to embarrass himself with what can be attended either with difficulty or distress. To figure at a ball is his great triumph, and to succeed in an intrigue of gallantry, his highest exploit. He has an aversion to all public confusions, not from the love of mankind, for the great never look upon their inferiors as their fellow–creatures; nor yet from want of courage, for in that he is seldom defective; but from a consciousness that he possesses none of the virtues which are required in such situations, and that the public attention will certainly be drawn away from him by others. He may be willing to expose himself to some little danger, and to make a campaign when it happens to be the fashion. But he shudders with horror at the thought of any situation which demands the continual and long exertion of patience, industry, fortitude, and application of thought. These virtues are hardly ever to be met with in men who are born to those high stations. In all governments accordingly, even in monarchies, the highest offices are generally possessed, and the whole detail of the administration conducted, by men who were educated in the middle and inferior ranks of life, who have been carried forward by their own industry and abilities, though loaded with the jealousy, and opposed by the resentment, of all those who were born their superiors, and to whom the great, after having regarded them first with contempt, and afterwards with envy, are at last contented to truckle with the same abject meanness with which they desire that the rest of mankind should behave to themselves.

  6It is the loss of this easy empire over the affections of mankind which renders the fall from greatness so insupportable. When the family of the king of Macedon was led in triumph by Paulus Aemilius, their misfortunes, it is said, made them divide with their conqueror the attention of the Roman people. The sight of the royal children, whose tender age rendered them insensible of their situation, struck the spectators, amidst the public rejoicings and prosperity, with the tenderest sorrow and compassion. The king appeared next in the procession; and seemed like one confounded and astonished, and bereft of all sentiment, by the greatness of his calamities. His friends and ministers followed after him. As they moved along, they often cast their eyes upon their fallen sovereign, and always burst into tears at the sight; their whole behaviour demonstrating that they thought not of their own misfortunes, but were occupied entirely by the superior greatness of his. The generous Romans, on the contrary, beheld him with disdain and indignation, and regarded as unworthy of all compassion the man who could be so mean–spirited as to bear to live under such calamities.4 Yet what did those calamities amount to? According to the greater part of historians, he was to spend the remainder of his days, under the protection of a powerful and humane people, in a state which in itself should seem worthy of envy, a state of plenty, ease, leisure, and security, from which it was impossible for him even by his own folly to fall. But he was no longer to be surrounded by that admiring mob of fools, flatterers, and dependants, who had formerly been accustomed to attend upon all his motions. He was no longer to be gazed upon by multitudes, nor to have it in his power to render himself the object of their respect, their gratitude, their love, their admiration. The passions of nations were no longer to mould themselves upon his inclinations. This was that insupportable calamity which bereaved the king of all sentiment; which made his friends forget their own misfortunes; and which the Roman magnanimity could scarce conceive how any man could be so mean–spirited as to bear to survive.

  7‘Love,’ says my Lord Rochfaucault, ‘is commonly succeeded by ambition; but ambition is hardly ever succeeded by love.’5 That passion, when once it has got entire possession of the breast, will admit neither a rival nor a successor. To those who have been accustomed to the possession, or even to the hope of public admiration, all other pleasures sicken and decay. Of all the discarded statesmen who for their own ease have studied to get the better of ambition, and to despise those honours which they could no longer arrive at, how few have been able to succeed? The greater part have spent their time in the most listless and insipid indolence, chagrined at the thoughts of their own insignificancy, incapable of being interested in the occupations of private life, without enjoyment, except when they talked of their former greatness, and without satisfaction, except when they were employed in some vain project to recover it. Are you in earnest resolved never to barter your liberty for the lordly servitude of a court, but to live free, fearless, and independent? There seems to be one way to continue in that virtuous resolution; and perhaps but one. Never enter the place from whence so few have been able to return; never come within the circle of ambition; nor ever bring yourself into comparison with those masters of the earth who have already engrossed the attention of half mankind before you.

  8Of such mighty importance does it appear to be, in the imaginations of men, to stand in that situation which sets them most in the view of general sympathy and attention. And thus, place, that great object which divides the wives of aldermen, is the end of half the labours of human life; and is the cause of all the tumult and bustle, all the rapine and injustice, which avarice and ambition have introduced into this world. People of sense, it is said, indeed despise place; that is, they despise sitting at the head of the table, and are indifferent who it is that is pointed out to the company by that frivolous circumstance, which the smallest advantage is capable of overbalancing. But rank, distinction pre–eminence, no man despises, unless he is either raised very much above, or sunk very much below, the ordinary standard of human nature; unless he is either so confirmed in wisdom and real philosophy, as to be satisfied that, while the propriety of his conduct renders him the just object of approbation, it is of little consequence though he be neither attended to, nor approved of; or so habituated to the idea of his own meanness, so sunk in slothful and sottish indifference, as entirely to have forgot the desire, and almost the very wish, for superiority.

  9^cAs to become the natural object of the joyous congratulations and sympathetic attentions of mankind is, in this manner, the circumstance which gives to prosperity all its dazzling splendour; so nothing darkens so much the gloom of adversity as to feel that our misfortunes are the objects, not of the fellow–feeling, but of the contempt and aversion of our brethren. It is upon this account that^c the most dreadful calamities are not always those which it is most difficult to support. It is often more mortifying to appear in public under small disasters, than under great misfortunes. The first excite no sympathy; but the second, though they may excite none that approaches to the anguish of the sufferer, call forth, however, a very lively compassion. The sentiments of the spectators are, in this last case, less wide of those of the sufferer, and their imperfect fellow–feeling lends him some assistance in supporting his misery. Before a gay assembly, a gentleman would be more mortified to appear covered with filth and rags than with blood and wounds. This last situation would interest their pity; the other would provoke their laughter. The judge who orders a criminal to be set in the pillory, dishonours him more than if he had condemned him to the scaffold. The great prince, who, some years ago, caned a general officer at the head of his army, disgraced him irrecoverably.8 The punishment would have been much less had he shot him through the body. By the laws of honour, to strike with a cane dishonours, to strike with a sword does not, for an obvious reason. Those slighter punishments, when inflicted on a gentleman, to whom dishonour is the greatest of all evils, come to be regarded among a humane and generous people, as the most dreadful of any. With regard to persons of that rank, therefore, they are universally laid aside, and the law, while it takes their life upon many occasions, respects their honour upon almost all. To scourge a person of quality, or to set him in the pillory, upon account of any crime whatever, is a brutality of which no European government, except that of Russia, is capable.

  10A brave man is not rendered contemptible by being brought to the scaffold; he is, by being set in the pillory. His behaviour in the one situation may gain him universal esteem and admiration. No behaviour in the other can render him agreeable. The sympathy of the spectators supports him in the one case, and saves him from that shame, that consciousness that his misery is felt by himself only, which is of all sentiments the most unsupportable. There is no sympathy in the other; or, if there is any, it is not with his pain, which is a trifle, but with his consciousness of the want of sympathy with which this pain is attended. It is with his shame, not with his sorrow. Those who pity him, blush and hang down their heads for him. He droops in the same manner, and feels himself irrecoverably degraded by the punishment, though not by the crime. The man, on the contrary, who dies with resolution, as he is naturally regarded with the erect aspect of esteem and approbation, so he wears himself the same undaunted countenance; and, if the crime does not deprive him of the respect of others, the punishment never will. He has no suspicion that his situation is the object of contempt or derision to any body, and he can, with propriety, assume the air, not only of perfect serenity, but of triumph and exultation.

  11‘Great dangers,’ says the Cardinal de Retz, ‘have their charms, because there is some glory to be got, even when we miscarry. But moderate dangers have nothing but what is horrible, because the loss of reputation always attends the want of success.’9 His maxim has the same foundation with what we have been just now observing with regard to punishments.

  12Human virtue is superior to pain, to poverty, to danger, and to death; nor does it even require its utmost efforts do despise them. But to have its misery exposed to insult and derision, to be led in triumph, to be set up for the hand of scorn to point at, is a situation in which its constancy is much more apt to fail. Compared with the contempt of mankind, all other ^dexternal^d evils are easily supported.

  ^achap. iii

  Of the corruption of our moral sentiments, which is occasioned by this disposition to admire the rich and the great, and to despise or neglect persons of poor and mean condition

  1This disposition to admire, and almost to worship, the rich and the powerful, and to despise, or, at least, to neglect persons of poor and mean condition, though necessary both to establish and to maintain the distinction of ranks and the order of society, is, at the same time, the great and most universal cause of the corruption of our moral sentiments. That wealth and greatness are often regarded with the respect and admiration which are due only to wisdom and virtue; and that the contempt, of which vice and folly are the only proper objects, is often most unjustly bestowed upon poverty and weakness, has been the complaint of moralists in all ages.

  2We desire both to be respectable and to be respected. We dread both to be contemptible and to be contemned. But, upon coming into the world, we soon find that wisdom and virtue are by no means the sole objects of respect; nor vice and folly, of contempt. We frequently see the respectful attentions of the world more strongly directed towards the rich and the great, than towards the wise and the virtuous. We see frequently the vices and follies of the powerful much less despised than the poverty and weakness of the innocent. To deserve, to acquire, and to enjoy the respect and admiration of mankind, are the great objects of ambition and emulation. Two different roads are presented to us, equally leading to the attainment of this so much desired object; the one, by the study of wisdom and the practice of virtue; the other, by the acquisition of wealth and greatness. Two different characters are presented to our emulation; the one, of proud ambition and ostentatious avidity; the other, of humble modesty and equitable justice. Two different models, two different pictures, are held out to us, according to which we may fashion our own character and behaviour; the one more gaudy and glittering in its colouring; the other more correct and more exquisitely beautiful in its outline: the one forcing itself upon the notice of every wandering eye; the other, attracting the attention of scarce any body but the most studious and careful observer. They are the wise and the virtuous chiefly, a select, though, I am afraid, but a small party, who are the real and steady admirers of wisdom and virtue. The great mob of mankind are the admirers and worshippers, and, what may seem more extraordinary, most frequently the disinterested admirers and worshippers, of wealth and greatness.

  3The respect which we feel for wisdom and virtue is, no doubt, different from that which we conceive for wealth and greatness; and it requires no very nice discernment to distinguish the difference. But, notwithstanding this difference, those sentiments bear a very considerable resemblance to one another. In some particular features they are, no doubt, different, but, in the general air of the countenance, they seem to be so very nearly the same, that inattentive observers are very apt to mistake the one for the other.

  4In equal degrees of merit there is scarce any man who does not respect more the rich and the great, than the poor and the humble. With most men the presumption and vanity of the former are much more admired, than the real and solid merit of the latter. It is scarce agreeable to good morals, or even to good language, perhaps, to say, that mere wealth and greatness, abstracted from merit and virtue, deserve our respect. We must acknowledge, however, that they almost constantly obtain it; and that they may, therefore, be considered as, in some respects, the natural objects of it. Those exalted stations may, no doubt, be completely degraded by vice and folly. But the vice and folly must be very great, before they can operate this complete degradation. The profligacy of a man of fashion is looked upon with much less contempt and aversion, than that of a man of meaner condition. In the latter, a single transgression of the rules of temperance and propriety, is commonly more resented, than the constant and avowed contempt of them ever is in the former.

  5In the middling and inferior stations of life, the road to virtue and that to fortune, to such fortune, at least, as men in such stations can reasonably expect to acquire, are, happily in most cases, very nearly the same. In all the middling and inferior professions, real and solid professional abilities, joined to prudent, just, firm, and temperate conduct, can very seldom fail of success. Abilities will even sometimes prevail where the conduct is by no means correct. Either habitual imprudence, however, or injustice, or weakness, or profligacy, will always cloud, and sometimes depress altogether, the most splendid professional abilities. Men in the inferior and middling stations of life, besides, can never be great enough to be above the law, which must generally overawe them into some sort of respect for, at least, the more important rules of justice. The success of such people, too, almost always depends upon the favour and good opinion of their neighbours and equals; and without a tolerably regular conduct these can very seldom be obtained. The good old proverb, therefore, That honesty is the best policy, holds, in such situations, almost always perfectly true. In such situations, therefore, we may generally expect a considerable degree of virtue; and, fortunately for the good morals of society, these are the situations of by far the greater part of mankind.

  6In the superior stations of life the case is unhappily not always the same. In the courts of princes, in the drawing–rooms of the great, where success and preferment depend, not upon the esteem of intelligent and wellinformed equals, but upon the fanciful and foolish favour of ignorant, presumptuous, and proud superiors; flattery and falsehood too often prevail over merit and abilities. In such societies the abilities to please, are more regarded than the abilities to serve. In quiet and peaceable times, when the storm is at a distance, the prince, or great man, wishes only to be amused, and is even apt to fancy that he has scarce any occasion for the service of any body, or that those who amuse him are sufficiently able to serve him. The external graces, the frivolous accomplishments of that impertinent and foolish thing called a man of fashion, are commonly more admired than the solid and masculine virtues of a warrior, a statesman, a philosopher, or a legislator. All the great and awful virtues, all the virtues which can fit, either for the council, the senate, or the field, are, by the insolent and insignificant flatterers, who commonly figure the most in such corrupted societies, held in the utmost contempt and derision. When the duke of Sully was called upon by Lewis the Thirteenth, to give his advice in some great emergency, he observed the favourites and courtiers whispering to one another, and smiling at his unfashionable appearance. ‘Whenever your majesty’s father,’ said the old warrior and statesman, ‘did me the honour to consult me, he ordered the buffoons of the court to retire into the antechamber.’1

  7It is from our disposition to admire, and consequently to imitate, the rich and the great, that they are enabled to set, or to lead what is called the fashion. Their dress is the fashionable dress; the language of their conversation, the fashionable style; their air and deportment, the fashionable behaviour. Even their vices and follies are fashionable; and the greater part of men are proud to imitate and resemble them in the very qualities which dishonour and degrade them. Vain men often give themselves airs of a fashionable profligacy, which, in their hearts, they do not approve of, and of which, perhaps, they are really not guilty. They desire to be praised for what they themselves do not think praise–worthy, and are ashamed of unfashionable virtues which they sometimes practise in secret, and for which they have secretly some degree of real veneration. There are hypocrites of wealth and greatness, as well as of religion and virtue; and a vain man is as apt to pretend to be what he is not, in the one way, as a cunning man is in the other. He assumes the equipage and splendid way of living of his superiors, without considering that whatever may be praise–worthy in any of these, derives its whole merit and propriety from its suitableness to that situation and fortune which both require and can easily support the expence. Many a poor man places his glory in being thought rich, without considering that the duties (if one may call such follies by so very venerable a name) which that reputation imposes upon him, must soon reduce him to beggary, and render his situation still more unlike that of those whom he admires and imitates, than it had been originally.

  8To attain to this envied situation, the candidates for fortune too frequently abandon the paths of virtue; for unhappily, the road which leads to the one, and that which leads to the other, lie sometimes in very opposite directions. But the ambitious man flatters himself that, in the splendid situation to which he advances, he will have so many means of commanding the respect and admiration of mankind, and will be enabled to act with such superior propriety and grace, that the lustre of his future conduct will entirely cover, or efface, the foulness of the steps by which he arrived at that elevation. In many governments the candidates for the highest stations are above the law; and, if they can attain the object of their ambition, they have no fear of being called to account for the means by which they acquired it. They often endeavour, therefore, not only by fraud and falsehood, the ordinary and vulgar arts of intrigue and cabal; but sometimes by the perpetration of the most enormous crimes, by murder and assassination, by rebellion and civil war, to supplant and destroy those who oppose or stand in the way of their greatness. They more frequently miscarry than succeed; and commonly gain nothing but the disgraceful punishment which is due to their crimes. But, though they should be so lucky as to attain that wished–for greatness, they are always most miserably disappointed in the happiness which they expect to enjoy in it. It is not ease or pleasure, but always honour, of one kind or another, though frequently an honour very ill understood, that the ambitious man really pursues. But the honour of his exalted station appears, both in his own eyes and in those of other people, polluted and defiled by the baseness of the means through which he rose to it. Though by the profusion of every liberal expence; though by excessive indulgence in every profligate pleasure, the wretched, but usual, resource of ruined characters; though by the hurry of public business, or by the prouder and more dazzling tumult of war, he may endeavour to efface, both from his own memory and from that of other people, the remembrance of what he has done; that remembrance never fails to pursue him. He invokes in vain the dark and dismal powers of forgetfulness and oblivion. He remembers himself what he has done, and that remembrance tells him that other people must likewise remember it. Amidst all the gaudy pomp of the most ostentatious greatness; amidst the venal and vile adulation of the great and of the learned; amidst the more innocent, though more foolish, acclamations of the common people; amidst all the pride of conquest and the triumph of successful war, he is still secretly pursued by the avenging furies of shame and remorse; and, while glory seems to surround him on all sides, he himself, in his own imagination, sees black and foul infamy fast pursuing him, and every moment ready to overtake him from behind. Even the great Caesar, though he had the magnanimity to dismiss his guards, could not dismiss his suspicions. The remembrance of Pharsalia still haunted and pursued him. When, at the request of the senate, he had the generosity to pardon Marcellus, he told that assembly, that he was not unaware of the designs which were carrying on against his life; but that, as he had lived long enough both for nature and for glory, he was contented to die, and therefore despised all conspiracies.2 He had, perhaps, lived long enough for nature. But the man who felt himself the object of such deadly resentment, from those whose favour he wished to gain, and whom he still wished to consider as his friends, had certainly lived too long for real glory; or for all the happiness which he could ever hope to enjoy in the love and esteem of his equals.

  PART II

  Of Merit and Demerit; or, of the Objects of Reward and Punishment
  Consisting of Three Sections

  [^a–a]om. 1

  [1] Joseph Butler (d. 1752), Fifteen Sermons, v, para. 2; Raphael, British Moralists 1650–1800, § 412: ‘Though men do not universally rejoice with all whom they see rejoice, yet . . . they naturally compassionate all . . . whom they see in distress . . . insomuch that words expressing this latter, pity, compassion, frequently occur; whereas we have scarce any single one, by which the former is distinctly expressed. Congratulation indeed answers condolence: but both these words are intended to signify certain forms of civility, rather than any inward sensation or feeling. This difference or inequality is so remarkable, that we plainly consider compassion as itself an original, distinct, particular affection in human nature; whereas to rejoice in the good of others, is only a consequence of the general affection of love and good–will to them.’ Adam Smith’s memory has misled him into thinking that Butler gave arguments for the existence of sympathetic joy as a separate principle. In fact Butler proceeds to explain why, unlike compassion, it is not considered a separate principle. Hence Eckstein (i.284–5), while believing that the reference is probably to Butler, adds, implausibly, that it might be to Hutcheson or Hume.

  [^b *] It has been objected2 to me that as I found the sentiment of approbation, which is always agreeable, upon sympathy, it is inconsistent with my system to admit any disagreeable sympathy. I answer, that in the sentiment of approbation there are two things to be taken notice of; first, the sympathe