,,the ,,fable ,,of ,,the ,,bees2 ,,or1 ,,private ,,vices ,,public ,,benefits3 ,,with ,,an ,,essay ,,on ,,charity ,,and ,,charity ,,schools1 ,,and ,a ,,search ,,into ,,the ,,nature ,,of ,,society3 ,,also1 ,a ,,vindication ,,of ,,the ,,book ,,from ,,the ,,aspersions ,,contained ,,in ,a ,,presentment ,,of ,,the ,,grand ,,jury ,,of ,,middlesex1 ,,and ,,an ,,abusive ,,letter ,,to ,,lord ,c----4 ,,london3 ,,published ,,by ,t4 ,,ostell1 ,,ave-,,maria ,,lane1 ,,london1 ,,and ,,mundell ,,and ,,son1 ,,edinburgh4 #ahjf4 ,,contents4 ,,part ,i4 ,page ,preface1 iii ,the ,grumbling ,hive2 or ,knaves turn'd ,honest1 #a ,the ,introduction1 #ab ,an ,inquiry into the ,origin of ,moral ,virtue1 #ac ,remarks1 #bc ,an ,essay on ,charity and ,charity ,schools1 #aee ,a ,search into the ,nature of ,society1 #bje ,a ,vindication of the ,book1 from the ,aspersions contained in a ,presentment of the ,grand ,jury of ,middlesex1 and an ,abusive ,letter to ,lord ,c----1 #bcg ,,part ,,ii4 ,preface1 #bfa ,the ,first ,dialogue1 #bgi ,the ,second ,dialogue1 #cjb ,the ,third ,dialogue1 #cca ,the ,fourth ,dialogue1 #cff ,the ,fifth ,dialogue1 #djj ,the ,sixth ,dialogue1 #dea ,,preface4 ,laws and government are to the political bodies of civil societies1 what the vital spirits and life itself are to the natural bodies of animated creatures2 and as those that study the anatomy of dead carcases may see1 that the chief organs and nicest springs more immediately required to continue the motion of our machine1 are not hard bones1 strong muscles and nerves1 nor the smooth white skin1 that so beautifully covers them1 but small trifling films1 and little pipes1 that are either overlooked or else seem inconsiderable to vulgar eyes2 so they that examine into the nature of man1 abstract from art and education1 may observe1 that what renders him a sociable animal1 consists not in his desire of company1 good nature1 pity1 affability1 and other graces of a fair outside2 but that his vilest and most hateful qualities are the most necessary accomplishments to fit him for the largest1 and1 according to the world1 the happiest and most flourishing societies4 ,the following ,fable1 in which what ,i have said is set forth at large1 was printed above eight years ago #a1 in a six penny pamphlet1 called1 ,the ,grumbling ,hive1 or ,knaves turn'd ,honest2 and being soon after pirated1 cried about the streets in a halfpenny sheet4 ,since the first publishing of it1 ,i have met with several that1 either wilfully or ignorantly mistaking the design1 would have it1 that the scope of it was a satire upon virtue and morality1 and the whole wrote for the encouragement of vice4 ,this made me resolve1 whenever it should be reprinted1 some way or other to inform the reader of the real intent this little poem was wrote with4 ,i do not dignify these few loose lines with the name of ,poem1 that ,i would have the reader expect any poetry in them1 but barely because they are rhyme1 and ,i am in reality puzzled what name to give them2 for they are neither heroic nor pastoral1 satire1 burlesque1 nor heroi-comic2 to be a tale they want probability1 and the whole is rather too long for a fable4 ,all ,i can say of them is1 that they are a story told in doggerel1 which1 without the least design of being witty1 ,i have endeavoured to do in as easy and familiar a manner as ,i was able3 the reader shall be welcome to call them what he pleases4 ,it was said of ,montaigne1 that he was pretty well versed in the defects of mankind1 but unacquainted with the excellencies of human nature3 if ,i fare no worse1 ,i shall think myself well used4 ,what country soever in the universe is to be understood by the ,bee-,hive represented here1 it is evident1 from what is said of the laws and constitution of it1 the glory1 wealth1 power1 and industry of its inhabitants1 that it must be a large1 rich and warlike nation1 that is happily governed by a limited monarchy4 ,the satire1 therefore1 to be met with in the following lines1 upon the several professions and callings1 and almost every degree and station of people1 was not made to injure and point to particular persons1 but only to show the vileness of the ingredients that altogether compose the wholesome mixture of a well-ordered society2 in order to extol the wonderful power of political wisdom1 by the help of which so beautiful a machine is raised from the most contemptible branches4 ,for the main design of the ,fable 7as it is briefly explained in the ,moral71 is to show the impossibility of enjoying all the most elegant comforts of life1 that are to be met with in an industrious1 wealthy and powerful nation1 and at the same time1 be blessed with all the virtue and innocence that can be wished for in a golden age2 from thence to expose the unreasonableness and folly of those1 that desirous of being an opulent and flourishing people1 and wonderfully greedy after all the benefits they can receive as such1 are yet always murmuring at and exclaiming against those vices and inconveniences1 that from the beginning of the world to this present day1 have been inseparable from all kingdoms and states1 that ever were famed1 for strength1 riches1 and politeness1 at the same time4 ,to do this1 ,i first slightly touch upon some of the faults and corruptions the several professions and callings are generally charged with4 ,after that ,i show that those very vices1 of every particular person1 by skilful management1 were made subservient to the grandeur and worldly happiness of the whole4 ,lastly1 by setting forth what of necessity must be the consequence of general honesty and virtue1 and national temperance1 innocence and content1 ,i demonstrate that if mankind could be cured of the failings they are naturally guilty of1 they would cease to be capable of being raised into such vast potent and polite societies1 as they have been under the several great commonwealths and monarchies that have flourished since the creation4 ,if you ask me1 why ,i have done all this1 cui bono8 and what good these notions will produce8 truly1 besides the reader's diversion1 ,i believe none at all2 but if ,i was asked what naturally ought to be expected from them1 ,i would answer1 that1 in the first place1 the people who continually find fault with others1 by reading them1 would be taught to look at home1 and examining their own consciences1 be made ashamed of always railing at what they are more or less guilty of themselves2 and that1 in the next1 those who are so fond of the ease and comforts1 and reap all the benefits that are the consequence of a great and flourishing nation1 would learn more patiently to submit to those inconveniences1 which no government upon earth can remedy1 when they should see the impossibility of enjoying any great share of the first1 without partaking likewise of the latter4 ,this1 ,i say1 ought naturally to be expected from the publishing of these notions1 if people were to be made better by any thing that could be said to them2 but mankind having for so many ages remained still the same1 notwithstanding the many instructive and elaborate writings1 by which their amendment has been endeavoured1 ,i am not so vain as to hope for better success from so inconsiderable a trifle4 ,having allowed the small advantage this little whim is likely to produce1 ,i think myself obliged to show that it cannot be prejudicial to any2 for what is published1 if it does no good1 ought at least to do no harm3 in order to this1 ,i have made some explanatory notes1 to which the reader will find himself referred in those passages that seem to be most liable to exceptions4 ,the censorious1 that never saw the ,grumbling ,hive1 will tell me1 that whatever ,i may talk of the ,fable1 it not taking up a tenth part of the book1 was only contrived to introduce the ,remarks2 that instead of clearing up the doubtful or obscure places1 ,i have only pitched upon such as ,i had a mind to expatiate upon2 and that far from striving to extenuate the errors committed before1 ,i have made bad worse1 and shown myself a more barefaced champion for vice1 in the rambling digressions1 than ,i had done in the ,fable itself4 ,i shall spend no time in answering these accusations3 where men are prejudiced1 the best apologies are lost2 and ,i know that those who think it criminal to suppose a necessity of vice in any case whatever1 will never be reconciled to any part of the performance2 but if this be thoroughly examined1 all the offence it can give must result from the wrong inferences that may perhaps be drawn from it1 and which ,i desire nobody to make4 ,when ,i assert that vices are inseparable from great and potent societies1 and that it is impossible their wealth and grandeur should subsist without1 ,i do not say that the particular members of them who are guilty of any should not be continually reproved1 or not be punished for them when they grow into crimes4 ,there are1 ,i believe1 few people in ,london1 of those that are at any time forced to go a-foot1 but what could wish the streets of it much cleaner than generally they are2 while they regard nothing but their own clothes and private conveniency2 but when once they come to consider1 that what offends them1 is the result of the plenty1 great traffic1 and opulency of that mighty city1 if they have any concern in its welfare1 they will hardly ever wish to see the streets of it less dirty4 ,for if we mind the materials of all sorts that must supply such an infinite number of trades and handicrafts1 as are always going forward2 the vast quantity of victuals1 drink1 and fuel1 that are daily consumed in it2 the waste and superfluities that must be produced from them2 the multitudes of horses1 and other cattle1 that are always dawbing the streets2 the carts1 coaches1 and more heavy carriages that are perpetually wearing and breaking the pavement of them2 and1 above all1 the numberless swarms of people that are continually harassing and trampling through every part of them3 ,if1 ,i say1 we mind all these1 we shall find1 that every moment must produce new filth2 and1 considering how far distant the great streets are from the river side1 what cost and care soever be bestowed to remove the nastiness almost as fast as it is made1 it is impossible ,london should be more cleanly before it is less flourishing4 ,now would ,i ask1 if a good citizen1 in consideration of what has been said1 might not assert1 that dirty streets are a necessary evil1 inseparable from the felicity of ,london1 without being the least hinderance to the cleaning of shoes1 or sweeping of streets1 and consequently without any prejudice either to the blackguard or the scavingers4 ,but if1 without any regard to the interest or happiness of the city1 the question was put1 ,what place ,i thought most pleasant to walk in8 ,nobody can doubt1 but before the stinking streets of ,london1 ,i would esteem a fragrant garden1 or a shady grove in the country4 ,in the same manner1 if laying aside all worldly greatness and vain glory1 ,i should be asked where ,i thought it was most probable that men might enjoy true happiness1 ,i would prefer a small peaceable society1 in which men1 neither envied nor esteemed by neighbours1 should be contented to live upon the natural product of the spot they inhabit1 to a vast multitude abounding in wealth and power1 that should always be conquering others by their arms abroad1 and debauching themselves by foreign luxury at home4 ,thus much ,i had said to the reader in the first edition2 and have added nothing by way of preface in the second4 ,but since that1 a violent outcry has been made against the book1 exactly answering the expectation ,i always had of the justice1 the wisdom1 the charity1 and fair-dealing of those whose good will ,i despaired of4 ,it has been presented by the ,grand ,jury1 and condemned by thousands who never saw a word of it4 ,it has been preached against before my ,lord ,mayor2 and an utter refutation of it is daily expected from a reverend divine1 who has called me names in the advertisements1 and threatened to answer me in two months time for above five months together4 ,what ,i have to say for myself1 the reader will see in my ,vindication at the end of the book1 where he will likewise find the ,grand ,jury's ,presentment1 and a letter to the ,right ,honourable ,lord ,c4 which is very rhetorical beyond argument or connection4 ,the author shows a fine talent for invectives1 and great sagacity in discovering atheism1 where others can find none4 ,he is zealous against wicked books1 points at the ,fable of the ,bees1 and is very angry with the author3 ,he bestows four strong epithets on the enormity of his guilt1 and by several elegant innuendos to the multitude1 as the danger there is in suffering such authors to live1 and the vengeance of ,heaven upon a whole nation1 very charitably recommends him to their care4 ,considering the length of this epistle1 and that it is not wholly levelled at me only1 ,i thought at first to have made some extracts from it of what related to myself2 but finding1 on a nearer inquiry1 that what concerned me was so blended and interwoven with what did not1 ,i was obliged to trouble the reader with it entire1 not without hopes that1 prolix as it is1 the extravagancy of it will be entertaining to those who have perused the treatise it condemns with so much horror4 ,,the ,,grumbling ,,hive3 ,,or1 ,,knaves ,,turn',d ,,honest4 ,a spacious hive well stock'd with bees1 ,that liv'd in luxury and ease2 ,and yet as fam'd for laws and arms1 ,as yielding large and early swarms2 ,was counted the great nursery #e ,of sciences and industry4 ,no bees had better government1 ,more fickleness1 or less content3 ,they were not slaves to tyranny4 ,nor rul'd by wild democracy2 #aj ,but kings1 that could not wrong1 because ,their power was circumscrib'd by laws4 ,these insects liv'd like men1 and all ,our actions they performed in small3 ,they did whatever's done in town1 #ae ,and what belongs to sword or gown3 ,though th' artful works1 by nimble slight ,of minute limbs1 'scap'd human sight2 ,yet we've no engines1 labourers1 ,ships1 castles1 arms1 artificers1 #bj ,craft1 science1 shop1 or instrument1 ,but they had an equivalent3 ,which1 since their language is unknown1 ,must be call'd1 as we do our own4 ,as grant1 that among other things1 #be ,they wanted dice1 yet they had kings2 ,and those had guards2 from whence we may ,justly conclude1 they had some play2 ,unless a regiment be shown ,of soldiers1 that make use of none4 #cj ,vast numbers throng'd the fruitful hive2 ,yet those vast numbers made 'em thrive2 ,millions endeavouring to supply ,each other's lust and vanity2 ,while other millions were employ'd1 #ce ,to see their handy-works destroy'd2 ,they furnish'd half the universe2 ,yet had more work than labourers4 ,some with vast flocks1 and little pains1 ,jump'd into business of great gains2 #dj ,and some were damn'd to scythes and spades1 ,and all those hard laborious trades2 ,where willing wretches daily sweat1 ,and wear out strength and limbs to eat3 ,while others follow'd mysteries1 #de ,to which few folks binds 'prentices2 ,that want no stock1 but that of brass1 ,and may set up without a cross2 ,as sharpers1 parasites1 pimps1 players1 ,pickpockets1 coiners1 quacks1 soothsayers1 #ej ,and all those1 that in enmity1 ,with downright working1 cunningly ,convert to their own use the labour ,of their good-natur'd heedless neighbour4 ,these were call'd ,knaves1 but bar the name1 #ee ,the grave industrious were the same3 ,all trades and places knew some cheat1 ,no calling was without deceit4 ,the lawyers1 of whose art the basis ,was raising feuds and splitting cases1 #fj ,oppos'd all registers1 that cheats ,might make more work with dipt estates2 ,as were't unlawful1 that one's own1 ,without a law-suit1 should be known4 ,they kept off hearings wilfully1 #fe ,to finger the refreshing fee2 ,and to defend a wicked cause1 ,examin'd and survey'd the laws1 ,as burglar's shops and houses do1 ,to find out where they'd best break through4 #gj ,physicians valu'd fame and wealth ,above the drooping patient's health1 ,or their own skill3 the greatest part ,study'd1 instead of rules of art1 ,grave pensive looks and dull behaviour1 #ge ,to gain th' apothecary's favour2 ,the praise of midwives1 priests1 and all ,that serv'd at birth or funeral4 ,to bear with th' ever-talking tribe1 ,and hear my lady's aunt prescribe2 #hj ,with formal smile1 and kind how d'ye1 ,to fawn on all the family2 ,and1 which of all the greatest curse is1 ,t' endure th' impertinence of nurses4 ,among the many priests of ,jove1 #he ,hir'd to draw blessings from above1 ,some few were learn'd and eloquent1 ,but thousands hot and ignorant3 ,yet all pass'd muster that could hide ,their sloth1 lust1 avarice and pride2 #ij ,for which they were as fam'd as tailors ,for cabbage1 or for brandy sailors1 ,some1 meagre-look'd1 and meanly clad1 ,would mystically pray for bread1 ,meaning by that an ample store1 #ie ,yet lit'rally received no more2 ,and1 while these holy drudges starv'd1 ,the lazy ones1 for which they serv'd1 ,indulg'd their ease1 with all the graces ,of health and plenty in their faces4 #ajj ,the soldiers1 that were forc'd to fight1 ,if they surviv'd1 got honour by't2 ,though some1 that shunn'd the bloody fray1 ,had limbs shot off1 that ran away3 ,some valiant gen'rals fought the foe2 #aje ,others took bribes to let them go3 ,some ventur'd always where 'twas warm1 ,lost now a leg1 and then an arm2 ,till quite disabled1 and put by1 ,they liv'd on half their salary2 #aaj ,while others never came in play1 ,and staid at home for double pay4 ,their kings were serv'd1 but knavishly1 ,cheated by their own ministry2 ,many1 that for their welfare slaved1 #aae ,robbing the very crown they saved3 ,pensions were small1 and they liv'd high1 ,yet boasted of their honesty4 ,calling1 whene'er they strain'd their right1 ,the slipp'ry trick a perquisite2 #abj ,and when folks understood their cant1 ,they chang'd that for emolument2 ,unwilling to be short or plain1 ,in any thing concerning gain2 ,for there was not a bee but would #abe ,get more1 ,i won't say1 than he should2 ,but than he dar'd to let them know1 ,that pay'd for't2 as your gamesters do1 ,that1 though at fair play1 ne'er will own ,before the losers that they've won4 #acj ,but who can all their frauds repeat8 ,the very stuff which in the street ,they sold for dirt t' enrich the ground1 ,was often by the buyers found ,sophisticated with a quarter #ace ,of good-for-nothing stones and mortar2 ,though ,flail had little cause to mutter4 ,who sold the other salt for butter4 ,justice herself1 fam'd for fair dealing1 ,by blindness had not lost her feeling2 #adj ,her left hand1 which the scales should hold1 ,had often dropt 'em1 brib'd with gold2 ,and1 though she seem'd impartial1 ,where punishment was corporal1 ,pretended to a reg'lar course1 #ade ,in murder1 and all crimes of force2 ,though some first pillory'd for cheating1 ,were hang'd in hemp of their own beating2 ,yet1 it was thought1 the sword she bore ,check'd but the desp'rate and the poor2 #aej ,that1 urg'd by mere necessity1 ,were ty'd up to the wretched tree ,for crimes1 which not deserv'd that fate1 ,but to secure the rich and great4 ,thus every part was full of vice1 #aee ,yet the whole mass a paradise2 ,flatter'd in peace1 and fear'd in wars ,they were th' esteem of foreigners1 ,and lavish of their wealth and lives1 ,the balance of all other hives4 #afj ,such were the blessings of that state2 ,their crimes conspir'd to make them great3 ,and virtue1 who from politics ,has learn'd a thousand cunning tricks1 ,was1 by their happy influence1 #afe ,made friends with vice3 ,and ever since1 ,the worst of all the multitude ,did something for the common good4 ,this was the state's craft1 that maintain'd ,the whole of which each part complain'd3 #agj ,this1 as in music harmony ,made jarrings in the main agree1 ,parties directly opposite1 ,assist each other1 as 'twere for spite2 ,and temp'rance with sobriety1 #age ,serve drunkenness and gluttony4 ,the root of evil1 avarice1 ,that damn'd ill-natur'd baneful vice1 ,was slave to prodigality1 ,that noble sin2 whilst luxury #ahj ,employ'd a million of the poor1 ,and odious pride a million more3 ,envy itself1 and vanity1 ,were ministers of industry2 ,their darling folly1 fickleness1 #ahe ,in diet1 furniture1 and dress1 ,that strange ridic'lous vice1 was made ,the very wheel that turn'd the trade4 ,their laws and clothes were equally ,objects of mutability6 #aij ,for1 what was well done for a time1 ,in half a year became a crime2 ,yet while they altered thus their laws1 ,still finding and correcting flaws1 ,they mended by inconstancy #aie ,faults1 which no prudence could foresee4 ,thus vice nurs'd ingenuity1 ,which join'd the time and industry1 ,had carry'd life's conveniences1 ,its real pleasures1 comforts1 ease1 #bjj ,to such a height1 the very poor ,liv'd better than the rich before4 ,and nothing could be added more4 ,how vain is mortal happiness6 ,had they but known the bounds of bliss2 #bje ,and that perfection here below ,is more than gods can well bestow2 ,the grumbling brutes had been content ,with ministers and government4 ,but they1 at every ill success1 #baj ,like creatures lost without redress1 ,curs'd politicians1 armies1 fleets2 ,while every one cry'd1 damn the cheats1 ,and would1 though conscious of his own1 ,in others barb'rously bear none4 #bae ,one1 that had got a princely store1 ,by cheating master1 king1 and poor1 ,dar'd cry aloud1 the land must sink ,for all its fraud2 and whom d'ye think ,the sermonizing rascal chid8 #bbj ,a glover that sold lamb for kid4 ,the least thing was not done amiss1 ,or cross'd the public business2 ,but all the rogues cry'd brazenly1 ,good gods1 had we but honesty6 #bbe ,merc'ry smil'd at th' impudence1 ,and others call'd it want of sense1 ,always to rail at what they lov'd3 ,but ,jove with indignation mov'd1 ,at last in anger swore1 he'd rid #bcj ,the bawling hive of fraud2 and did4 ,the very moment it departs1 ,and honesty fills all their hearts2 ,there shows 'em1 like th' instructive tree1 ,those crimes which they're asham'd to see2 #bce ,which now in silence they confess1 ,by blushing at their ugliness3 ,like children1 that would hide their faults1 ,and by their colour own their thoughts3 ,imag'ning1 when they're look'd upon1 #bdj ,that others see what they have done4 ,but1 ,o ye gods6 what consternation1 ,how vast and sudden was th' alteration6 ,in half an hour1 the nation round1 ,meat fell a penny in the pound4 #bde ,the mask hypocrisy's sitting down1 ,from the great statesman to the clown3 ,and in some borrow'd looks well known1 ,appear'd like strangers in their own4 ,the bar was silent from that day2 #bej ,for now the willing debtors pay1 ,ev'n what's by creditors forgot2 ,who quitted them that had it not4 ,those that were in the wrong1 stood mute1 ,and dropt the patch'd vexatious suit3 #bee ,on which since nothing else can thrive1 ,than lawyers in an honest hive1 ,all1 except those that got enough1 ,with inkhorns by their sides troop'd off4 ,justice hang'd some1 set others free2 #bfj ,and after gaol delivery1 ,her presence being no more requir'd1 ,with all her train and pomp retir'd4 ,first march'd some smiths with locks and grates1 ,fetters1 and doors with iron plates3 #bfe ,next gaolers1 turnkeys and assistants3 ,before the goddess1 at some distance1 ,her chief and faithful minister1 ',squire ,catch1 the law's great finisher1 ,bore not th' imaginary sword1 #bgj ,but his own tools1 an ax and cord3 ,then on a cloud the hood-wink'd fair1 ,justice herself was push'd by air3 ,about her chariot1 and behind1 ,were serjeants1 bums of every kind1 #bge ,tip-staffs1 and all those officers1 ,that squeeze a living out of tears4 ,though physic liv'd1 while folks were ill1 ,none would prescribe1 but bees of skill1 ,which through the hive dispers'd so wide1 #bhj ,that none of them had need to ride2 ,wav'd vain disputes1 and strove to free ,the patients of their misery2 ,left drugs in cheating countries grown1 ,and us'd the product of their own2 #bhe ,knowing the gods sent no disease1 ,to nations without remedies4 ,their clergy rous'd from laziness1 ,laid not their charge on journey-bees2 ,but serv'd themselves1 exempt from vice1 #bij ,the gods with pray'r and sacrifice2 ,all those1 that were unfit1 or knew1 ,their service might be spar'd1 withdrew3 ,nor was their business for so many1 7,if th' honest stand in need of any17 #bie ,few only with the high-priest staid1 ,to whom the rest obedience paid3 ,himself employ'd in holy cares2 ,resign'd to others state-affairs4 ,he chas'd no starv'ling from his door1 #cjj ,nor pinch'd the wages of the poor3 ,but at his house the hungry's fed1 ,the hireling finds unmeasur'd bread1 ,the needy trav'ller board and bed4 ,among the king's great ministers1 #cje ,and all th' inferior officers1 ,the change was great2 for frugally ,they now liv'd on their salary3 ,that a poor bee should ten times come ,to ask his due1 a trifling sum1 #caj ,and by some well-hir'd clerk be made ,to give a crown1 or ne'er be paid1 ,would now be call'd a downright cheat1 ,though formerly a perquisite4 ,all places manag'd first by three1 #cae ,who watch'd each other's knavery ,and often for a fellow-feeling1 ,promoted one another's stealing1 ,are happily supply'd by one1 ,by which some thousands more are gone4 #cbj ,no honour now could be content1 ,to live and owe for what was spent2 ,liv'ries in brokers shops are hung1 ,they part with coaches for a song2 ,sell stately horses by whole sets2 #cbe ,and country-houses1 to pay debts4 ,vain cost is shunn'd as much as fraud2 ,they have no forces kept abroad2 ,laugh at th' esteem of foreigners1 ,and empty glory got by wars2 #ccj ,they fight but for their country's sake1 ,when right or liberty's at stake4 ,now mind the glorious hive1 and see ,how honesty and trade agree4 ,the show is gone1 it thins apace2 #cce ,and looks with quite another face4 ,for 'twas not only that they went1 ,by whom vast sums were yearly spent2 ,but multitudes that liv'd on them1 ,were daily forc'd to do the same4 #cdj ,in vain to other trades they'd fly2 ,all were o'er-stock'd accordingly4 ,the price of land and houses falls2 ,mirac'lous palaces1 whose walls1 ,like those of ,thebes1 were rais'd by play1 #cde ,are to be let2 while the once gay1 ,well-seated household gods would be ,more pleas'd to expire in flames1 than see ,the mean inscription on the door ,smile at the lofty ones they bore4 #cej ,the building trade is quite destroy'd1 ,artificers are not employ'd2 ,no limner for his art is fam'd1 ,stone-cutters1 carvers are not nam'd4 ,those1 that remain'd1 grown temp'rate1 strive1 #cee ,not how to spend1 but how to live2 ,and1 when they paid their tavern score1 ,resolv'd to enter it no more3 ,no vintner's jilt in all the hive ,could wear now cloth of gold1 and thrive2 #cfj ,nor ,torcol such vast sums advance1 ,for ,burgundy and ,ortolans2 ,the courtier's gone that with his miss ,supp'd at his house on ,christmas peas2 ,spending as much in two hours stay1 #cfe ,as keeps a troop of horse a day4 ,the haughty ,chloe1 to live great1 ,had made her husband rob the state3 ,but now she sells her furniture1 ,which th' ,indies had been ransack'd for2 #cgj ,contracts the expensive bill of fare1 ,and wears her strong suit a whole year3 ,the slight and fickle age is past2 ,and clothes1 as well as fashions1 last4 ,weavers1 that join'd rich silk with plate1 #cge ,and all the trades subordinate1 ,are gone2 still peace and plenty reign1 ,and every thing is cheap1 though plain3 ,kind nature1 free from gard'ners force1 ,allows all fruits in her own course2 #chj ,but rarities cannot be had1 ,where pains to get them are not paid4 ,as pride and luxury decrease1 ,so by degrees they leave the seas4 ,not merchants now1 but companies #che ,remove whole manufactories4 ,all arts and crafts neglected lie2 ,content1 the bane of industry1 ,makes 'em admire their homely store1 ,and neither seek nor covet more4 #cij ,so few in the vast hive remain1 ,the hundredth part they can't maintain ,against th' insults of numerous foes2 ,whom yet they valiantly oppose3 ',till some well fenc'd retreat is found1 #cie ,and here they die or stand their ground4 ,no hireling in their army's known2 ,but bravely fighting for their own1 ,their courage and integrity ,at last were crown'd with victory4 #djj ,they triumph'd not without their cost1 ,for many thousand bees were lost4 ,harden'd with toils and exercise1 ,they counted ease itself a vice2 ,which so improv'd their temperance2 #dje ,that1 to avoid extravagance1 ,they flew into a hollow tree1 ,blest with content and honesty4 ,,the ,,moral4 ,then leave complaints3 fools only strive ,to make a great an honest hive4 #daj ,t' enjoy the world's conveniences1 ,be fam'd in war1 yet live in ease1 ,without great vices1 is a vain ,eutopia seated in the brain4 ,fraud1 luxury1 and pride must live1 #dae ,while we the benefits receive3 ,hunger's a dreadful plague1 no doubt1 ,yet who digests or thrives without8 ,do we not owe the growth of wine ,to the dry shabby crooked vine8 #dbj ,which1 while its shoots neglected stood1 ,chok'd other plants1 and ran to wood2 ,but blest us with its noble fruit1 ,as soon as it was ty'd and cut3 ,so vice is beneficial found1 #dbe ,when it's by justice lopp'd and bound2 ,nay1 where the people would be great1 ,as necessary to the state1 ,as hunger is to make 'em eat4 ,bare virtue can't make nations live #dcj ,in splendor2 they1 that would revive ,a golden age1 must be as free1 ,for acorns as for honesty4 #dcc ,,the ,,introduction4 ,one of the greatest reasons why so few people understand themselves1 is1 that most writers are always teaching men what they should be1 and hardly ever trouble their heads with telling them what they really are4 ,as for my part1 without any compliment to the courteous reader1 or myself1 ,i believe man 7besides skin1 flesh1 bones1 c4 that are obvious to the eye7 to be a compound of various passions2 that all of them1 as they are provoked and come uppermost1 govern him by turns1 whether he will or no4 ,to show that these qualifications1 which we all pretend to be ashamed of1 are the great support of a flourishing society1 has been the subject of the foregoing poem4 ,but there being some passages in it seemingly paradoxical1 ,i have in the preface promised some explanatory remarks on it2 which1 to render more useful1 ,i have thought fit to inquire1 how man1 no better qualified1 might yet by his own imperfections be taught to distinguish between virtue and vice3 and here ,i must desire the reader once for all to take notice1 that when ,i say men1 ,i mean neither ,jews nor ,christians2 but mere man1 in the state of nature and ignorance of the true ,deity4 ,,an ,,inquiry ,,into ,,the ,,origin ,,of ,,moral ,,virtue4 ,all untaught animals are only solicitous of pleasing themselves1 and naturally follow the bent of their own inclinations1 without considering the good or harm that1 from their being pleased1 will accrue to others4 ,this is the reason that1 in the wild state of nature1 those creatures are fittest to live peaceably together in great numbers1 that discover the least of understanding1 and have the fewest appetites to gratify2 and consequently no species of animals is1 without the curb of government1 less capable of agreeing long together in multitudes1 than that of man2 yet such are his qualities1 whether good or bad ,i shall not determine1 that no creature besides himself can ever be made sociable3 but being an extraordinary selfish and headstrong1 as well as cunning animal1 however he may be subdued by superior strength1 it is impossible by force alone to make him tractable1 and receive the improvements he is capable of4 ,the chief thing1 therefore1 which lawgivers1 and other wise men that have laboured for the establishment of society1 have endeavoured1 has been to make the people they were to govern1 believe1 that it was more beneficial for every body to conquer than indulge his appetites1 and much better to mind the public than what seemed his private interest4 ,as this has always been a very difficult task1 so no wit or eloquence has been left untried to compass it2 and the moralists and philosophers of all ages employed their utmost skill to prove the truth of so useful an assertion4 ,but whether mankind would have ever believed it or not1 it is not likely that any body could have persuaded them to disapprove of their natural inclinations1 or prefer the good of others to their own1 if1 at the same time1 he had not showed them an equivalent to be enjoyed as a reward for the violence1 which1 by so doing1 they of necessity must commit upon themselves4 ,those that have undertaken to civilize mankind1 were not ignorant of this2 but being unable to give so many real rewards as would satisfy all persons for every individual action1 they were forced to contrive an imaginary one1 that1 as a general equivalent for the trouble of self-denial1 should serve on all occasions1 and without costing any thing either to themselves or others1 be yet a most acceptable recompence to the receivers4 ,they thoroughly examined all the strength and frailties of our nature1 and observing that none were either so savage as not to be charmed with praise1 or so despicable as patiently to bear contempt1 justly concluded1 that flattery must be the most powerful argument that could be used to human creatures4 ,making use of this bewitching engine1 they extolled the excellency of our nature above other animals1 and setting forth with unbounded praises the wonders of our sagacity and vastness of understanding1 bestowed a thousand encomiums on the rationality of our souls1 by the help of which we were capable of performing the most noble achievements4 ,having1 by this artful way of flattery1 insinuated themselves into the hearts of men1 they began to instruct them in the notions of honour and shame2 representing the one as the worst of all evils1 and the other as the highest good to which mortals could aspire3 which being done1 they laid before them how unbecoming it was the dignity of such sublime creatures to be solicitous about gratifying those appetites1 which they had in common with brutes1 and at the same time unmindful of those higher qualities that gave them the pre-eminence over all visible beings4 ,they indeed confessed1 that those impulses of nature were very pressing2 that it was troublesome to resist1 and very difficult wholly to subdue them4 ,but this they only used as an argument to demonstrate1 how glorious the conquest of them was on the one hand1 and how scandalous on the other not to attempt it4 ,to introduce1 moreover1 an emulation amongst men1 they divided the whole species into two classes1 vastly differing from one another3 the one consisted of abject1 low-minded people1 that always hunting after immediate enjoyment1 were wholly incapable of self-denial1 and without regard to the good of others1 had no higher aim than their private advantage2 such as being enslaved by voluptuousness1 yielded without resistance to every gross desire1 and make no use of their rational faculties but to heighten their sensual pleasure4 ,these wild grovelling wretches1 they said1 were the dross of their kind1 and having only the shape of men1 differed from brutes in nothing but their outward figure4 ,but the other class was made up of lofty high-spirited creatures1 that1 free from sordid selfishness1 esteemed the improvements of the mind to be their fairest possessions2 and1 setting a true value upon themselves1 took no delight but in embellishing that part in which their excellency consisted2 such as despising whatever they had in common with irrational creatures1 opposed by the help of reason their most violent inclinations2 and making a continual war with themselves1 to promote the peace of others1 aimed at no less than the public welfare1 and the conquest of their own passion4 ,fortior est qui se qum qui fortissima ,vincit ,moenia ---- ---- ,these they called the true representatives of their sublime species1 exceeding in worth the first class by more degrees1 than that itself was superior to the beasts of the field4 ,as in all animals that are not too imperfect to discover pride1 we find1 that the finest1 and such as are the most beautiful and valuable of their kind1 have generally the greatest share of it2 so in man1 the most perfect of animals1 it is so inseparable from his very essence 7how cunningly soever some may learn to hide or disguise it71 that without it the compound he is made of would want one of the chiefest ingredients3 which1 if we consider1 it is hardly to be doubted but lessons and remonstrances1 so skilfully adapted to the good opinion man has of himself1 as those ,i have mentioned1 must1 if scattered amongst a multitude1 not only gain the assent of most of them1 as to the speculative part1 but likewise induce several1 especially the fiercest1 most resolute1 and best among them1 to endure a thousand inconveniences1 and undergo as many hardships1 that they may have the pleasure of counting themselves men of the second class1 and consequently appropriating to themselves all the excellencies they have heard of it4 ,from what has been said1 we ought to expect1 in the first place1 that the heroes who took such extraordinary pains to master some of their natural appetites1 and preferred the good of others to any visible interest of their own1 would not recede an inch from the fine notions they had received concerning the dignity of rational creatures2 and having ever the authority of the government on their side1 with all imaginable vigour assert the esteem that was due to those of the second class1 as well as their superiority over the rest of their kind4 ,in the second1 that those who wanted a sufficient stock of either pride or resolution1 to buoy them up in mortifying of what was dearest to them1 followed the sensual dictates of nature1 would yet be ashamed of confessing themselves to be those despicable wretches that belonged to the inferior class1 and were generally reckoned to be so little removed from brutes2 and that therefore1 in their own defence1 they would say1 as others did1 and hiding their own imperfections as well as they could1 cry up self-denial and public spiritedness as much as any3 for it is highly probable1 that some of them1 convinced by the real proofs of fortitude and self-conquest they had seen1 would admire in others what they found wanting in themselves2 others be afraid of the resolution and prowess of those of the second class1 and that all of them were kept in awe by the power of their rulers2 wherefore is it reasonable to think1 that none of them 7whatever they thought in themselves7 would dare openly contradict1 what by every body else was thought criminal to doubt of4 ,this was 7or at least might have been7 the manner after which savage man was broke2 from whence it is evident1 that the first rudiments of morality1 broached by skilful politicians1 to render men useful to each other1 as well as tractable1 were chiefly contrived1 that the ambitious might reap the more benefit from1 and govern vast numbers of them with the greater ease and security4 ,this foundation of politics being once laid1 it is impossible that man should long remain uncivilized3 for even those who only strove to gratify their appetites1 being continually crossed by others of the same stamp1 could not but observe1 that whenever they checked their inclinations or but followed them with more circumspection1 they avoided a world of troubles1 and often escaped many of the calamities that generally attended the too eager pursuit after pleasure4 ,first1 they received1 as well as others1 the benefit of those actions that were done for the good of the whole society1 and consequently could not forbear wishing well to those of the superior class that performed them4 ,secondly1 the more intent they were in seeking their own advantage1 without regard to others1 the more they were hourly convinced1 that none stood so much in their way as those that were most like themselves4 ,it being the interest then of the very worst of them1 more than any1 to preach up public-spiritedness1 that they might reap the fruits of the labour and self-denial of others1 and at the same time indulge their own appetites with less disturbance1 they agreed with the rest1 to call every thing1 which1 without regard to the public1 man should commit to gratify any of his appetites1 vice2 if in that action there could be observed the least prospect1 that it might either be injurious to any of the society1 or ever render himself less serviceable to others3 and to give the name of virtue to every performance1 by which man1 contrary to the impulse of nature1 should endeavour the benefit of others1 or the conquest of his own passions1 out of a rational ambition of being good4 ,it shall be objected1 that no society was ever any ways civilized before the major part had agreed upon some worship or other of an over-ruling power1 and consequently that the notions of good and evil1 and the distinction between virtue and vice1 were never the contrivance of politicians1 but the pure effect of religion4 ,before ,i answer this objection1 ,i must repeat what ,i have said already1 that in this inquiry into the origin of moral virtue1 ,i speak neither of ,jews or ,christians1 but man in his state of nature and ignorance of the true ,deity2 and then ,i affirm1 that the idolatrous superstitions of all other nations1 and the pitiful notions they had of the ,supreme ,being1 were incapable of exciting man to virtue1 and good for nothing but to awe and amuse a rude and unthinking multitude4 ,it is evident from history1 that in all considerable societies1 how stupid or ridiculous soever people's received notions have been1 as to the deities they worshipped1 human nature has ever exerted itself in all its branches1 and that there is no earthly wisdom or moral virtue1 but at one time or other men have excelled in it in all monarchies and commonwealths1 that for riches and power have been any ways remarkable4 ,the ,egyptians1 not satisfied with having deified all the ugly monsters they could think on1 were so silly as to adore the onions of their own sowing2 yet at the same time their country was the most famous nursery of arts and sciences in the world1 and themselves more eminently skilled in the deepest mysteries of nature than any nation has been since4 ,no states or kingdoms under heaven have yielded more or greater patterns in all sorts of moral virtues1 than the ,greek and ,roman empires1 more especially the latter2 and yet how loose1 absurd and ridiculous were their sentiments as to sacred matters8 ,for without reflecting on the extravagant number of their deities1 if we only consider the infamous stories they fathered upon them1 it is not to be denied but that their religion1 far from teaching men the conquest of their passions1 and the way to virtue1 seemed rather contrived to justify their appetites1 and encourage their vices4 ,but if we would know what made them excel in fortitude1 courage1 and magnanimity1 we must cast our eyes on the pomp of their triumphs1 the magnificence of their monuments and arches2 their trophies1 statues1 and inscriptions2 the variety of their military crowns1 their honours decreed to the dead1 public encomiums on the living1 and other imaginary rewards they bestowed on men of merit2 and we shall find1 that what carried so many of them to the utmost pitch of self-denial1 was nothing but their policy in making use of the most effectual means that human pride could be flattered with4 ,it is visible1 then1 that it was not any heathen religion1 or other idolatrous superstition1 that first put man upon crossing his appetites and subduing his dearest inclinations1 but the skilful management of wary politicians2 and the nearer we search into human nature1 the more we shall be convinced1 that the moral virtues are the political offspring which flattery begot upon pride4 ,there is no man1 of what capacity or penetration soever1 that is wholly proof against the witchcraft of flattery1 if artfully performed1 and suited to his abilities4 ,children and fools will swallow personal praise1 but those that are more cunning1 must be managed with much greater circumspection2 and the more general the flattery is1 the less it is suspected by those it is levelled at4 ,what you say in commendation of a whole town is received with pleasure by all the inhabitants3 speak in commendation of letters in general1 and every man of learning will think himself in particular obliged to you4 ,you may safely praise the employment a man is of1 or the country he was born in2 because you give him an opportunity of screening the joy he feels upon his own account1 under the esteem which he pretends to have for others4 ,it is common among cunning men1 that understand the power which flattery has upon pride1 when they are afraid they shall be imposed upon1 to enlarge1 though much against their conscience1 upon the honour1 fair dealing1 and integrity of the family1 country1 or sometimes the profession of him they suspect2 because they know that men often will change their resolution1 and act against their inclination1 that they may have the pleasure of continuing to appear in the opinion of some1 what they are conscious not to be in reality4 ,thus sagacious moralists draw men like angels1 in hopes that the pride at least of some will put them upon copying after the beautiful originals which they are represented to be4 ,when the incomparable ,sir ,richard ,steele1 in the usual elegance of his easy style1 dwells on the praises of his sublime species1 and with all the embellishments of rhetoric1 sets forth the excellency of human nature1 it is impossible not to be charmed with his happy turns of thought1 and the politeness of his expressions4 ,but though ,i have been often moved by the force of his eloquence1 and ready to swallow the ingenious sophistry with pleasure1 yet ,i could1 never be so serious1 but1 reflecting on his artful encomiums1 ,i thought on the tricks made use of by the women that would teach children to be mannerly4 ,when an awkward girl before she can either speak or go1 begins after many entreaties to make the first rude essays of curtseying1 the nurse falls in an ecstacy of praise2 ,there is a delicate curtsey6 ,o fine ,miss6 there is a pretty lady6 ,mamma6 ,miss can make a better curtsey than her sister ,molly6 ,the same is echoed over by the maids1 whilst ,mamma almost hugs the child to pieces2 only ,miss ,molly1 who being four years older1 knows how to make a very handsome curtsey1 wonders at the perverseness of their judgment1 and swelling with indignation1 is ready to cry at the injustice that is done her1 till1 being whispered in the ear that it is only to please the baby1 and that she is a woman1 she grows proud at being let into the secret1 and rejoicing at the superiority of her understanding1 repeats what has been said with large additions1 and insults over the weakness of her sister1 whom all this while she fancies to be the only bubble among them4 ,these extravagant praises would by any one1 above the capacity of an infant1 be called fulsome flatteries1 and1 if you will1 abominable lies2 yet experience teaches us1 that by the help of such gross encomiums1 young misses will be brought to make pretty curtesies1 and behave themselves womanly much sooner1 and with less trouble1 than they would without them4 ,it is the same with boys1 whom they will strive to persuade1 that all fine gentlemen do as they are bid1 and that none but beggar boys are rude1 or dirty their clothes2 nay1 as soon as the wild brat with his untaught fist begins to fumble for his hat1 the mother1 to make him pull it off1 tells him before he is two years old1 that he is a man2 and if he repeats that action when she desires him1 he is presently a captain1 a lord mayor1 a king1 or something higher if she can think of it1 till edged on by the force of praise1 the little urchin endeavours to imitate man as well as he can1 and strains all his faculties to appear what his shallow noddle imagines he is believed to be4 ,the meanest wretch puts an inestimable value upon himself1 and the highest wish of the ambitious man is to have all the world1 as to that particular1 of his opinion3 so that the most insatiable thirst after fame that ever heroe was inspired with1 was never more than an ungovernable greediness to engross the esteem and admiration of others in future ages as well as his own2 and 7what mortification soever this truth might be to the second thoughts of an ,alexander or a ,csar7 the great recompense in view1 for which the most exalted minds have with so much alacrity sacrificed their quiet1 health1 sensual pleasures1 and every inch of themselves1 has never been any thing else but the breath of man1 the aerial coin of praise4 ,who can forbear laughing when he thinks on all the great men that have been so serious on the subject of that ,macedonian madman1 his capacious soul1 that mighty heart1 in one corner of which1 according to ,lorenzo ,gratian1 the world was so commodiously lodged1 that in the whole there was room for six more8 ,who can forbear laughing1 ,i say1 when he compares the fine things that have been said of ,alexander1 with the end he proposed to himself from his vast exploits1 to be proved from his own mouth2 when the vast pains he took to pass the ,hydaspes forced him to cry out8 ,oh ye ,athenians1 could you believe what dangers ,i expose myself to1 to be praised by you6 ,to define then1 the reward of glory in the amplest manner1 the most that can be said of it1 is1 that it consists in a superlative felicity which a man1 who is conscious of having performed a noble action1 enjoys in self-love1 whilst he is thinking on the applause he expects of others4 ,but here ,i shall be told1 that besides the noisy toils of war and public bustle of the ambitious1 there are noble and generous actions that are performed in silence2 that virtue being its own reward1 those who are really good1 have a satisfaction in their consciousness of being so1 which is all the recompence they expect from the most worthy performances2 that among the heathens there have been men1 who1 when they did good to others1 were so far from coveting thanks and applause1 that they took all imaginable care to be for ever concealed from those on whom they bestowed their benefits1 and consequently that pride has no hand in spurring man on to the highest pitch of self-denial4 ,in answer to this1 ,i say1 that it is impossible to judge of a man's performance1 unless we are thoroughly acquainted with the principle and motive from which he acts4 ,pity1 though it is the most gentle and the least mischievous of all our passions1 is yet as much a frailty of our nature1 as anger1 pride1 or fear4 ,the weakest minds have generally the greatest share of it1 for which reason none are more compassionate than women and children4 ,it must be owned1 that of all our weaknesses1 it is the most amiable1 and bears the greatest resemblance to virtue2 nay1 without a considerable mixture of it1 the society could hardly subsist3 but as it is an impulse of nature1 that consults neither the public interest nor our own reason1 it may produce evil as well as good4 ,it has helped to destroy the honour of virgins1 and corrupted the integrity of judges2 and whoever acts from it as a principle1 what good soever he may bring to the society1 has nothing to boast of1 but that he has indulged a passion that has happened to be beneficial to the public4 ,there is no merit in saving an innocent babe ready to drop into the fire3 the action is neither good nor bad1 and what benefit soever the infant received1 we only obliged ourselves2 for to have seen it fall1 and not strove to hinder it1 would have caused a pain1 which self preservation compelled us to prevent3 ,nor has a rich prodigal1 that happens to be of a commiserating temper1 and loves to gratify his passions1 greater virtue to boast of1 when he relieves an object of compassion with what to himself is a trifle4 ,but such men1 as without complying with any weakness of their own1 can part from what they value themselves1 and1 from no other motive but there love to goodness1 perform a worthy action in silence3 such men1 ,i confess1 have acquired more refined notions of virtue than those ,i have hitherto spoke of2 yet even in these 7with which the world has yet never swarmed7 we may discover no small symptoms of pride1 and the humblest man alive must confess1 that the reward of a virtuous action1 which is the satisfaction that ensues upon it1 consists in a certain pleasure he procures to himself by contemplating on his own worth3 which pleasure1 together with the occasion of it1 are as certain signs of pride1 as looking pale and trembling at any imminent danger1 are the symptoms of fear4 ,if the too scrupulous reader should at first view condemn these notions concerning the origin of moral virtue1 and think them perhaps offensive to ,christianity1 ,i hope he will forbear his censures1 when he shall consider1 that nothing can render the unsearchable depth of the ,divine ,wisdom more conspicuous1 than that man1 whom ,providence had designed for society1 should not only by his own frailties and imperfections1 be led into the road to temporal happiness1 but likewise receive1 from a seeming necessity of natural causes1 a tincture of that knowledge1 in which he was afterwards to be made perfect by the true religion1 to his eternal welfare4 ,,remarks4 ,line #de4 ,whilst others follow'd mysteries1 ,to which few folks bind 'prentices4 ,in the education of youth1 in order to their getting of a livelihood when they shall be arrived at maturity1 most people look out for some warrantable employment or other1 of which there are whole bodies or companies1 in every large society of men4 ,by this means1 all arts and sciences1 as well as trades and handicrafts1 are perpetuated in the commonwealth1 as long as they are found useful2 the young ones that are daily brought up to them1 continually supplying the loss of the old ones that die4 ,but some of these employments being vastly more creditable than others1 according to the great difference of the charges required to set up in each of them1 all prudent parents1 in the choice of them1 chiefly consult their own abilities1 and the circumstances they are in4 ,a man that gives three or four hundred pounds with his son to a great merchant1 and has not two or three thousand pounds to spare against he is out of his time to begin business with1 is much to blame not to have brought his child up to something that might be followed with less money4 ,there are abundance of men of a genteel education1 that have but very small revenues1 and yet are forced1 by their reputable callings1 to make a greater figure than ordinary people of twice their income4 ,if these have any children1 it often happens1 that as their indigence renders them incapable of bringing them up to creditable occupations1 so their pride makes them unwilling to put them out to any of the mean laborious trades1 and then1 in hopes either of an alteration in their fortune1 or that some friends1 or favourable opportunity shall offer1 they from time to time put off the disposing of them1 until insensibly they come to be of age1 and are at last brought up to nothing4 ,whether this neglect be more barbarous to the children1 or prejudicial to the society1 ,i shall not determine4 ,at ,athens all children were forced to assist their parents1 if they came to want3 ,but ,solon made a law1 that no son should be obliged to relieve his father1 who had not bred him up to any calling4 ,some parents put out their sons to good trades very suitable to their then present abilities1 but happen to die1 or fail in the world1 before their children have finished their apprenticeships1 or are made fit for the business they are to follow3 ,a great many young men again1 on the other hand1 are handsomely provided for and set up for themselves1 that yet 7some for want of industry1 or else a sufficient knowledge in their callings1 others by indulging their pleasures1 and some few by misfortunes7 are reduced to poverty1 and altogether unable to maintain themselves by the business they were brought up to4 ,it is impossible but that the neglects1 mismanagements1 and misfortunes ,i named1 must very frequently happen in populous places1 and consequently great numbers of people be daily flung unprovided for into the wide world1 how rich and potent a commonwealth may be1 or what care soever a government may take to hinder it4 ,how must these people be disposed of8 ,the sea1 ,i know1 and armies1 which the world is seldom without1 will take off some4 ,those that are honest drudges1 and of a laborious temper1 will become journeymen to the trades they are of1 or enter into some other service3 such of them as studied and were sent to the university1 may become schoolmasters1 tutors1 and some few of them get into some office or other3 ,but what must become of the lazy1 that care for no manner of working1 and the fickle1 that hate to be confined to any thing8 ,those that ever took delight in plays and romances1 and have a spice of gentility1 will1 in all probability1 throw their eyes upon the stage1 and if they have a good elocution1 with tolerable mien1 turn actors4 ,some that love their bellies above any thing else1 if they have a good palate1 and a little knack at cookery1 will strive to get in with gluttons and epicures1 learn to cringe and bear all manner of usage1 and so turn parasites1 ever flattering the master1 and making mischief among the rest of the family4 ,others1 who by their own and companions lewdness1 judge of people's incontinence1 will naturally fall to intriguing1 and endeavour to live by pimping for such as either want leisure or address to speak for themselves4 ,those of the most abandoned principles of all1 if they are sly and dexterous1 turn sharpers1 pick-pockets1 or coiners1 if their skill and ingenuity give them leave4 ,others again1 that have observed the credulity of simple women1 and other foolish people1 if they have impudence and a little cunning1 either set up for doctors1 or else pretend to tell fortunes2 and every one turning the vices and frailties of others to his own advantage1 endeavours to pick up a living the easiest and shortest way his talents and abilities will let him4 ,these are certainly the bane of civil society2 but they are fools1 who1 not considering what has been said1 storm at the remissness of the laws that suffer them to live1 while wise men content themselves with taking all imaginable care not to be circumvented by them1 without quarrelling at what no human prudence can prevent4 ,line #ee4 ,these we call'd ,knaves1 but bar the name1 ,the grave industrious were the same4 ,this1 ,i confess1 is but a very indifferent compliment to all the trading part of the people4 ,but if the word ,knave may be understood in its full latitude1 and comprehend every body that is not sincerely honest1 and does to others what he would dislike to have done to himself1 ,i do not question but ,i shall make good the charge4 ,to pass by the innumerable artifices1 by which buyers and sellers outwit one another1 that are daily allowed of and practised among the fairest of dealers1 show me the tradesmen that has always discovered the defects of his goods to those that cheapened them2 nay1 where will you find one that has not at one time or other industriously concealed them1 to the detriment of the buyer8 ,where is the merchant that has never1 against his conscience1 extolled his wares beyond their worth1 to make them go off the better4 ,decio1 a man of great figure1 that had large commissions for sugar from several parts beyond sea1 treats about a considerable parcel of that commodity with ,alcander1 an eminent ,west ,india merchant2 both understood the market very well1 but could not agree3 ,decio was a man of substance1 and thought no body ought to buy cheaper than himself2 ,alcander was the same1 and not wanting money1 stood for his price4 ,while they were driving their bargain at a tavern near the exchange1 ,alcander's man brought his master a letter from the ,west ,indies1 that informed him of a much greater quantity of sugars coming for ,england than was expected4 ,alcander now wished for nothing more than to sell at ,decio's price1 before the news was public2 but being a cunning fox1 that he might not seem too precipitant1 nor yet lose his customer1 he drops the discourse they were upon1 and putting on a jovial humour1 commends the agreeableness of the weather1 from whence falling upon the delight he took in his gardens1 invites ,decio to go along with him to his country house1 that was not above twelve miles from ,london4 ,it was in the month of ,may1 and1 as it happened1 upon a ,saturday in the afternoon3 ,decio1 who was a single man1 and would have no business in town before ,tuesday1 accepts of the other's civility1 and away they go in ,alcander's coach4 ,decio was splendidly entertained that night and the day following2 the ,monday morning1 to get himself an appetite1 he goes to take the air upon a pad of ,alcander's1 and coming back meets with a gentleman of his acquaintance1 who tells him news was come the night before that the ,barbadoes fleet was destroyed by a storm1 and adds1 that before he came out it had been confirmed at ,lloyd's coffee house1 where it was thought sugars would rise #be per cent1 by change-time4 ,decio returns to his friend1 and immediately resumes the discourse they had broke off at the tavern3 ,alcander1 who thinking himself sure of his chap1 did not design to have moved it till after dinner1 was very glad to see himself so happily prevented2 but how desirous soever he was to sell1 the other was yet more eager to buy2 yet both of them afraid of one another1 for a considerable time counterfeited all the indifference imaginable2 until at last1 ,decio fired with what he had heard1 thought delays might prove dangerous1 and throwing a guinea upon the table1 struck the bargain at ,alcander's price4 ,the next day they went to ,london2 the news proved true1 and ,decio got five hundred pounds by his sugars1 ,alcander1 whilst he had strove to over-reach the other1 was paid in his own coin3 yet all this is called fair dealing2 but ,i am sure neither of them would have desired to be done by1 as they did to each other4 ,line #aja4 ,the soldiers that were forc'd to fight1 ,if they surviv'd got honour by't4 ,so unaccountable is the desire to be thought well of in men1 that though they are dragged into the war against their will1 and some of them for their crimes1 and are compelled to fight with threats1 and often blows1 yet they would be esteemed for what they would have avoided1 if it had been in their power3 whereas1 if reason in man was of equal weight with his pride1 he could never be pleased with praises1 which he is conscious he does not deserve4 ,by honour1 in its proper and genuine signification1 we mean nothing else but the good opinion of others1 which is counted more or less substantial1 the more or less noise or bustle there is made about the demonstration of it2 and when we say the sovereign is the fountain of honour1 it signifies that he has the power1 by titles or ceremonies1 or both together1 to stamp a mark upon whom he pleases1 that shall be as current as his coin1 and procure the owner the good opinion of every body1 whether he deserves it or not4 ,the reverse of honour is dishonour1 or ignominy1 which consists in the bad opinion and contempt of others2 and as the first is counted a reward for good actions1 so this is esteemed a punishment for bad ones2 and the more or less public or heinous the manner is in which this contempt of others is shown1 the more or less the person so suffering is degraded by it4 ,this ignominy is likewise called shame1 from the effect it produces2 for though the good and evil of honour and dishonour are imaginary1 yet there is a reality in shame1 as it signifies a passion1 that has its proper symptoms1 over-rules our reason1 and requires as much labour and self-denial to be subdued1 as any of the rest2 and since the most important actions of life often are regulated according to the influence this passion has upon us1 a thorough understanding of it must help to illustrate the notions the world has of honour and ignominy4 ,i shall therefore describe it at large4 ,first1 to define the passion of shame1 ,i think it may be called a sorrowful reflection on our own unworthiness1 proceeding from an apprehension that others either do1 or might1 if they knew all1 deservedly despise us4 ,the only objection of weight that can be raised against this definition is1 that innocent virgins are often ashamed1 and blush when they are guilty of no crime1 and can give no manner of reason for this frailty3 and that men are often ashamed for others1 for1 or with whom1 they have neither friendship or affinity1 and consequently that there may be a thousand instances of shame given1 to which the words of the definition are not applicable4 ,to answer this1 ,i would have it first considered1 that the modesty of women is the result of custom and education1 by which all unfashionable denudations and filthy expressions are rendered frightful and abominable to them1 and that notwithstanding this1 the most virtuous young woman alive will often1 in spite of her teeth1 have thoughts and confused ideas of things arise in her imagination1 which she would not reveal to some people for a thousand worlds4 ,then1 ,i say1 that when obscene words are spoken in the presence of an unexperienced virgin1 she is afraid that some body will reckon her to understand what they mean1 and consequently that she understands this1 and that1 and several things1 which she desires to be thought ignorant of4 ,the reflecting on this1 and that thoughts are forming to her disadvantage1 brings upon her that passion which we call shame2 and whatever can sting her1 though never so remote from lewdness1 upon that set of thoughts ,i hinted1 and which she thinks criminal1 will have the same effect1 especially before men1 as long as her modesty lasts4 ,to try the truth of this1 let them talk as much bawdy as they please in the room next to the same virtuous young woman1 where she is sure that she is undiscovered1 and she will hear1 if not hearken to it1 without blushing at all1 because then she looks upon herself as no party concerned2 and if the discourse should stain her cheeks with red1 whatever her innocence may imagine1 it is certain that what occasions her colour1 is a passion not half so mortifying as that of shame2 but if1 in the same place1 she hears something said of herself that must tend to her disgrace1 or any thing is named1 of which she is secretly guilty1 then it is ten to one but she will be ashamed and blush1 though nobody sees her2 because she has room to fear1 that she is1 or1 if all was known1 should be thought of contemptibly4 ,that we are often ashamed1 and blush for others1 which was the second part of the objection1 is nothing else but that sometimes we make the case of others too nearly our own2 so people shriek out when they see others in danger3 ,whilst we are reflecting with too much earnest on the effect which such a blameable action1 if it was ours1 would produce in us1 the spirits1 and consequently the blood1 are insensibly moved1 after the same manner as if the action was our own1 and so the same symptoms must appear4 ,the shame that raw1 ignorant1 and ill-bred people1 though seemingly without a cause1 discover before their betters1 is always accompanied with1 and proceeds from a consciousness of their weakness and inabilities2 and the most modest man1 how virtuous1 knowing1 and accomplished soever he might be1 was never yet ashamed without some guilt or diffidence4 ,such as out of rusticity1 and want of education are unreasonably subject to1 and at every turn overcome by this passion1 we call bashful2 and those who out of disrespect to others1 and a false opinion of their own sufficiency1 have learned not to be affected with it1 when they should be1 are called impudent or shameless4 ,what strange contradictions man is made of6 ,the reverse of shame is pride1 7see ,remark on l4 #ahb7 yet no body can be touched with the first1 that never felt any thing of the latter2 for that we have such an extraordinary concern in what others think of us1 can proceed from nothing but the vast esteem we have of ourselves4 ,that these two passions1 in which the seeds of most virtues are contained1 are realities in our frame1 and not imaginary qualities1 is demonstrable from the plain and different effects1 that1 in spite of our reason1 are produced in us as soon as we are affected with either4 ,when a man is overwhelmed with shame1 he observes a sinking of the spirits6 the heart feels cold and condensed1 and the blood flies from it to the circumference of the body2 the face glows1 the neck and part of the breast partake of the fire3 he is heavy as lead2 the head is hung down1 and the eyes through a mist of confusion are fixed on the ground3 no injuries can move him2 he is weary of his being1 and heartily wishes he could make himself invisible3 but when1 gratifying his vanity1 he exults in his pride1 he discovers quite contrary symptoms2 his spirits swell and fan the arterial blood2 a more than ordinary warmth strengthens and dilates the heart2 the extremities are cool2 he feels light to himself1 and imagines he could tread on air2 his head is held up1 his eyes rolled about with sprightliness2 he rejoices at his being1 is prone to anger1 and would be glad that all the world could take notice of him4 ,it is incredible how necessary an ingredient shame is to make us sociable2 it is a frailty in our nature2 all the world1 whenever it affects them1 submit to it with regret1 and would prevent it if they could2 yet the happiness of conversation depends upon it1 and no society could be polished1 if the generality of mankind were not subject to it4 ,as1 therefore1 the sense of shame is troublesome1 and all creatures are ever labouring for their own defence1 it is probable1 that man striving to avoid this uneasiness1 would1 in a great measure1 conquer his shame by that he was grown up2 but this would be detrimental to the society1 and therefore from his infancy1 throughout his education1 we endeavour to increase1 instead of lessening or destroying this sense of shame2 and the only remedy prescribed1 is a strict observance of certain rules1 to avoid those things that might bring this troublesome sense of shame upon him4 ,but as to rid or cure him of it1 the politician would sooner take away his life4 ,the rules ,i speak of1 consist in a dextrous management of ourselves1 a stifling of our appetites1 and hiding the real sentiments of our hearts before others4 ,those who are not instructed in these rules long before they come to years of maturity1 seldom make any progress in them afterwards4 ,to acquire and bring to perfection the accomplishment ,i hint at1 nothing is more assisting than pride and good sense4 ,the greediness we have after the esteem of others1 and the raptures we enjoy in the thoughts of being liked1 and perhaps admired1 are equivalents that over-pay the conquest of the strongest passions1 and consequently keep us at a great distance from all such words or actions that can bring shame upon us4 ,the passions we chiefly ought to hide1 for the happiness and embellishment of the society1 are lust1 pride1 and selfishness2 therefore the word modesty has three different acceptations1 that vary with the passions it conceals4 ,as to the first1 ,i mean the branch of modesty1 that has a general pretension to chastity for its object1 it consists in a sincere and painful endeavour1 with all our faculties1 to stifle and conceal before others1 that inclination which nature has given us to propagate our species4 ,the lessons of it1 like those of grammar1 are taught us long before we have occasion for1 or understand the usefulness of them2 for this reason children often are ashamed1 and blush out of modesty1 before the impulse of nature ,i hint at makes any impression upon them4 ,a girl who is modestly educated1 may1 before she is two years old1 begin to observe how careful the women she converses with1 are of covering themselves before men2 and the same caution being inculcated to her by precept1 as well as example1 it is very probable that at six she will be ashamed of showing her leg1 without knowing any reason why such an act is blameable1 or what the tendency of it is4 ,to be modest1 we ought1 in the first place1 to avoid all unfashionable denudations3 a woman is not to be found fault with for going with her neck bare1 if the custom of the country allows of it2 and when the mode orders the stays to be cut very low1 a blooming virgin may1 without fear of rational censure1 show all the world3 ,how firm her pouting breasts1 that white as snow1 ,on th' ample chest at mighty distance grow4 ,but to suffer her ancle to be seen1 where it is the fashion for women to hide their very feet1 is a breach of modesty2 and she is impudent1 who shows half her face in a country where decency bids her to be veiled4 ,in the second1 our language must be chaste1 and not only free1 but remote from obscenities1 that is1 whatever belongs to the multiplication of our species is not to be spoke of1 and the least word or expression1 that1 though at a great distance1 has any relation to that performance1 ought never to come from our lips4 ,thirdly1 all postures and motions that can any ways sully the imagination1 that is1 put us in mind of what ,i have called obscenities1 are to be forbore with great caution4 ,a young woman1 moreover1 that would be thought well-bred1 ought to be circumspect before men in all her behaviour1 and never known to receive from1 much less to bestow favours upon them1 unless the great age of the man1 near consanguinity1 or a vast superiority on either side1 plead her excuse4 ,a young lady of refined education keeps a strict guard over her looks1 as well as actions1 and in her eyes we may read a consciousness that she has a treasure about her1 not out of danger of being lost1 and which yet she is resolved not to part with at any terms4 ,thousand satires have been made against prudes1 and as many encomiums to extol the careless graces1 and negligent air of virtuous beauty4 ,but the wiser sort of mankind are well assured1 that the free and open countenance of the smiling fair1 is more inviting1 and yields greater hopes to the seducer1 than the ever-watchful look of a forbidding eye4 ,this strict reservedness is to be complied with by all young women1 especially virgins1 if they value the esteem of the polite and knowing world2 men may take greater liberty1 because in them the appetite is more violent and ungovernable4 ,had equal harshness of discipline been imposed upon both1 neither of them could have made the first advances1 and propagation must have stood still among all the fashionable people3 which being far from the politician's aim1 it was advisable to ease and indulge the sex that suffered most by the severity1 and make the rules abate of their rigour1 where the passion was the strongest1 and the burden of a strict restraint would have been the most intolerable4 ,for this reason1 the man is allowed openly to profess the veneration and great esteem he has for women1 and show greater satisfaction1 more mirth and gaiety in their company1 than he is used to do out of it4 ,he may not only be complaisant and serviceable to them on all occasions1 but it is reckoned his duty to protect and defend them4 ,he may praise the good qualities they are possessed of1 and extol their merit with as many exaggerations as his invention will let him1 and are consistent with good sense4 ,he may talk of love1 he may sigh and complain of the rigours of the fair1 and what his tongue must not utter he has the privilege to speak with his eyes1 and in that language to say what he pleases2 so it be done with decency1 and short abrupted glances3 but too closely to pursue a woman1 and fasten upon her with ones eyes1 is counted very unmannerly2 the reason is plain1 it makes her uneasy1 and1 if she be not sufficiently fortified by art and dissimulation1 often throws her into visible disorders4 ,as the eyes are the windows of the soul1 so this staring impudence flings a raw1 unexperienced woman1 into panic fears1 that she may be seen through2 and that the man will discover1 or has already betrayed1 what passes within her3 it keeps her on a perpetual rack1 that commands her to reveal her secret wishes1 and seems designed to extort from her the grand truth1 which modesty bids her with all her faculties to deny4 ,the multitude will hardly believe the excessive force of education1 and in the difference of modesty between men and women1 ascribe that to nature which is altogether owing to early instruction3 ,miss is scarce three years old1 but she is spoke to every day to hide her leg1 and rebuked in good earnest if she shows it2 while little ,master at the same age is bid to take up his coats1 and piss like a man4 ,it is shame and education that contains the seeds of all politeness1 and he that has neither1 and offers to speak the truth of his heart1 and what he feels within1 is the most contemptible creature upon earth1 though he committed no other fault4 ,if a man should tell a woman1 that he could like no body so well to propagate his species upon1 as herself1 and that he found a violent desire that moment to go about it1 and accordingly offered to lay hold of her for that purpose2 the consequence would be1 that he would be called a brute1 the woman would run away1 and himself be never admitted in any civil company4 ,there is no body that has any sense of shame1 but would conquer the strongest passion rather than be so served4 ,but a man need not conquer his passions1 it is sufficient that he conceals them4 ,virtue bids us subdue1 but good breeding only requires we should hide our appetites4 ,a fashionable gentleman may have as violent an inclination to a woman as the brutish fellow2 but then he behaves himself quite otherwise2 he first addresses the lady's father1 and demonstrates his ability splendidly to maintain his daughter2 upon this he is admitted into her company1 where1 by flattery1 submission1 presents1 and assiduity1 he endeavours to procure her liking to his person1 which if he can compass1 the lady in a little while resigns herself to him before witnesses in a most solemn manner2 at night they go to bed together1 where the most reserved virgin very tamely suffers him to do what he pleases1 and the upshot is1 that he obtains what he wanted without ever having asked for it4 ,the next day they receive visits1 and no body laughs at them1 or speaks a word of what they have been doing4 ,as to the young couple themselves1 they take no more notice of one another1 ,i speak of well-bred people1 than they did the day before2 they eat and drink1 divert themselves as usually1 and having done nothing to be ashamed of1 are looked upon as1 what in reality they may be1 the most modest people upon earth4 ,what ,i mean by this1 is to demonstrate1 that by being well-bred1 we suffer no abridgement in our sensual pleasures1 but only labour for our mutual happiness1 and assist each other in the luxurious enjoyment of all worldly comforts4 ,the fine gentleman ,i spoke of need not practise any greater self-denial than the savage1 and the latter acted more according to the laws of nature and sincerity than the first4 ,the man that gratifies his appetites after the manner the custom of the country allows of1 has no censure to fear4 ,if he is hotter than goats or bulls1 as soon as the ceremony is over1 let him sate and fatigue himself with joy and ecstacies of pleasure1 raise and indulge his appetites by turns1 as extravagantly as his strength and manhood will give him leave1 he may with safety laugh at the wise men that should reprove him3 all the women1 and above nine in ten of the men are of his side2 nay1 he has the liberty of valuing himself upon the fury of his unbridled passion1 and the more he wallows in lust1 and strains every faculty to be abandonedly voluptuous1 the sooner he shall have the good-will and gain the affection of the women1 not the young1 vain1 and lascivious only1 but the prudent1 grave1 and most sober matrons4 ,because impudence is a vice1 it does not follow that modesty is a virtue2 it is built upon shame1 a passion in our nature1 and may be either good or bad according to the actions performed from that motive4 ,shame may hinder a prostitute from yielding to a man before company1 and the same shame may cause a bashful good-natured creature1 that has been overcome by frailty1 to make away with her infant4 ,passions may do good by chance1 but there can be no merit but in the conquest of them4 ,was there virtue in modesty1 it would be of the same force in the dark as it is in the light1 which it is not4 ,this the men of pleasure know very well1 who never trouble their heads with a woman's virtue1 so they can but conquer her modesty2 seducers1 therefore1 do not make their attacks at noon-day1 but cut their trenches at night4 ,illa verecundis lux est prbenda puellis1 ,qua timidus latebras sperat habere pudor4 ,people of substance may sin without being exposed for their stolen pleasure2 but servants1 and the poorer sort of women1 have seldom the opportunity of concealing a big belly1 or at least the consequences of it4 ,it is impossible that an unfortunate girl of good parentage may be left destitute1 and know no shift for a livelihood than to become a nursery1 or a chambermaid3 she may be diligent1 faithful1 and obliging1 have abundance of modesty1 and if you will1 be religious3 she may resist temptations1 and preserve her chastity for years together1 and yet at last meet with an unhappy moment in which she gives up her honour to a powerful deceiver1 who afterwards neglects her4 ,if she proves with child1 her sorrows are unspeakable1 and she cannot be reconciled with the wretchedness of her condition2 the fear of shame attacks her so lively1 that every thought distracts her4 ,all the family she lives in have a great opinion of her virtue1 and her last mistress took her for a saint4 ,how will her enemies1 that envied her character1 rejoice6 ,how will her relations detest her6 ,the more modest she is now1 and the more violently the dread of coming to shame hurries her away1 the more wicked and more cruel her resolutions will be1 either against herself or what she bears4 ,it is commonly imagined1 that she who can destroy her child1 her own flesh and blood1 must have a vast stock of barbarity1 and be a savage monster1 different from other women2 but this is likewise a mistake1 which we commit for the want of understanding nature and the force of passions4 ,the same woman that murders her bastard in the most execrable manner1 if she is married afterwards1 may take care of1 cherish1 and feel all the tenderness for her infant that the fondest mother can be capable of4 ,all mothers naturally love their children3 but as this is a passion1 and all passions centre in self-love1 so it may be subdued by any superior passion1 to sooth that same self-love1 which if nothing had intervened1 would have bid her fondle her offspring4 ,common whores1 whom all the world knows to be such1 hardly ever destroy their children2 nay1 even those who assist in robberies and murders seldom are guilty of this crime2 not because they are less cruel or more virtuous1 but because they have lost their modesty to a greater degree1 and the fear of shame makes hardly any impression upon them4 ,our love to what never was within the reach of our senses is but poor and inconsiderable1 and therefore women have no natural love to what they bear2 their affection begins after the birth3 what they feel before is the result of reason1 education1 and the thoughts of duty4 ,even when children first are born1 the mother's love is but weak1 and increases with the sensibility of the child1 and grows up to a prodigious height1 when by signs it begins to express his sorrows and joys1 makes his wants known1 and discovers his love to novelty and the multiplicity of his desires4 ,what labours and hazards have not women undergone to maintain and save their children1 what force and fortitude beyond their sex have they not shown in their behalf6 but the vilest women have exerted themselves on this head as violently as the best4 ,all are prompted to it by a natural drift and inclination1 without any consideration of the injury or benefit the society receives from it4 ,there is no merit in pleasing ourselves1 and the very offspring is often irreparably ruined by the excessive fondness of parents3 for though infants1 for two or three years1 may be the better for this indulging care of mothers1 yet afterwards1 if not moderated1 it may totally spoil them1 and many it has brought to the gallows4 ,if the reader thinks ,i have been too tedious on that branch of modesty1 by the help of which we endeavour to appear chaste1 ,i shall make him amends in the brevity with which ,i design to treat of the remaining part1 by which we would make others believe1 that the esteem we have for them exceeds the value we have for ourselves1 and that we have no disregard so great to any interest as we have to our own4 ,this laudable quality is commonly known by the name of ,manners and ,good-breeding1 and consists in a fashionable habit1 acquired by precept and example1 of flattering the pride and selfishness of others1 and concealing our own with judgment and dexterity4 ,this must be only understood of our commerce with our equals and superiors1 and whilst we are in peace and amity with them2 for our complaisance must never interfere with the rules of honour1 nor the homage that is due to us from servants and others that depend upon us4 ,with this caution1 ,i believe1 that the definition will quadrate with every thing that can be alleged as a piece1 or an example of either good-breeding or ill manners2 and it will be very difficult throughout the various accidents of human life and conversation1 to find out an instance of modesty or impudence that is not comprehended in1 and illustrated by it1 in all countries and in all ages4 ,a man that asks considerable favours of one who is a stranger to him1 without consideration1 is called impudent1 because he shows openly his selfishness1 without having any regard to the selfishness of the other4 ,we may see in it1 likewise1 the reason why a man ought to speak of his wife and children1 and every thing that is dear to him1 as sparing as is possible1 and hardly ever of himself1 especially in commendation of them4 ,a well-bred man may be desirous1 and even greedy after praise and the esteem of others1 but to be praised to his face offends his modesty3 the reason is this2 all human creatures1 before they are yet polished1 receive an extraordinary pleasure in hearing themselves praised3 this we are all conscious of1 and therefore when we see a man openly enjoy and feast on this delight1 in which we have no share1 it rouses our selfishness1 and immediately we begin to envy and hate him4 ,for this reason1 the well-bred man conceals his joy1 and utterly denies that he feels any1 and by this means consulting and soothing our selfishness1 he averts that envy and hatred1 which otherwise he would have justly to fear4 ,when from our childhood we observe how those are ridiculed who calmly can hear their own praises1 it is possible that we may strenuously endeavour to avoid that pleasure1 that in tract of time we grow uneasy at the approach of it3 but this is not following the dictates of nature1 but warping her by education and custom2 for if the generality of mankind took no delight in being praised1 there could be no modesty in refusing to hear it4 ,the man of manners picks not the best1 but rather takes the worst out of the dish1 and gets of every thing1 unless it be forced upon him1 always the most indifferent share4 ,by this civility the best remains for others1 which being a compliment to all that are present1 every body is pleased with it3 the more they love themselves1 the more they are forced to approve of his behaviour1 and gratitude stepping in1 they are obliged almost1 whether they will or not1 to think favourably of him4 ,after this manner1 it is the well-bred man insinuates himself in the esteem of all the companies he comes in1 and if he gets nothing else by it1 the pleasure he receives in reflecting on the applause which he knows is secretly given him1 is to a proud man more than an equivalent for his former self-denial1 and overpays to self-love with interest1 the loss it sustained in his complaisance to others4 ,if there are seven or eight apples or peaches among six people of ceremony1 that are pretty near equal1 he who is prevailed upon to choose first1 will take that1 which1 if there be any considerable difference1 a child would know to be the worst3 this he does to insinuate1 that he looks upon those he is with to be of superior merit1 and that there is not one whom he wishes not better to than he does to himself4 ,it is custom and a general practice that makes this modish deceit familiar to us1 without being shocked at the absurdity of it2 for if people had been used to speak from the sincerity of their hearts1 and act according to the natural sentiments they felt within1 until they were three or four and twenty1 it would be impossible for them to assist at this comedy of manners1 without either loud laughter or indignation2 and yet it is certain1 that such behaviour makes us more tolerable to one another1 than we could be otherwise4 ,it is very advantageous to the knowledge of ourselves1 to be able well to distinguish between good qualities and virtues4 ,the bond of society exacts from every member a certain regard for others1 which the highest is not exempt from in the presence of the meanest even in an empire3 but when we are by ourselves1 and so far removed from company1 as to be beyond the reach of their senses1 the words modesty and impudence lose their meaning2 a person may be wicked1 but he cannot be immodest while he is alone1 and no thought can be impudent that never was communicated to another4 ,a man of exalted pride may so hide it1 that no body shall be able to discover that he has any2 and yet receive greater satisfaction from that passion than another1 who indulges himself in the declaration of it before all the world4 ,good manners having nothing to do with virtue or religion2 instead of extinguishing1 they rather inflame the passions4 ,the man of sense and education never exults more in his pride than when he hides it with the greatest dexterity2 and in feasting on the applause1 which he is sure all good judges will pay to his behaviour1 he enjoys a pleasure altogether unknown to the short-sighted surly alderman1 that shows his haughtiness glaringly in his face1 pulls off his hat to nobody1 and hardly deigns to speak to an inferior4 ,a man may carefully avoid every thing that in the eye of the world1 is esteemed to be the result of pride1 without mortifying himself1 or making the least conquest of his passion4 ,it is possible that he only sacrifices the insipid outward part of his pride1 which none but silly ignorant people take delight in1 to that part we all feel within1 and which the men of the highest spirit and most exalted genius feed on with so much ecstacy in silence4 ,the pride of great and polite men is no where more conspicuous than in the debates about ceremony and precedency1 where they have an opportunity of giving their vices the appearance of virtues1 and can make the world believe that it is their care1 their tenderness for the dignity of their office1 or the honour of their masters1 what is the result of their own personal pride and vanity4 ,this is most manifest in all negotiations of ambassadors and plenipotentiaries1 and must be known by all that observe what is transacted at public treaties2 and it will ever be true1 that men of the best taste have no relish in their pride1 as long as any mortal can find out that they are proud4 ,line #abe4 ,for there was not a bee but would ,get more1 ,i won't say1 than he should2 ,but than1 c4 ,the vast esteem we have of ourselves1 and the small value we have for others1 make us all very unfair judges in our own cases4 ,few men can be persuaded that they get too much by those they sell to1 how extraordinary soever their gains are1 when1 at the same time1 there is hardly a profit so inconsiderable1 but they will grudge it to those they buy from2 for this reason the smallest of the seller's advantage being the greatest persuasive to the buyer2 tradesmen are generally forced to tell lies in their own defence1 and invent a thousand improbable stories1 rather than discover what they really get by their commodities4 ,some old standers1 indeed1 that pretend to more honesty 7or what is more likely1 have more pride71 than their neighbours1 are used to make but few words with their customers1 and refuse to sell at a lower price than what they ask at first4 ,but these are commonly cunning foxes that are above the world1 and know that those who have money1 get often more by being surly1 than others by being obliging4 ,the vulgar imagine they can find more sincerity in the sour looks of a grave old fellow1 than there appears in the submissive air and inviting complacency of a young beginner4 ,but this is a grand mistake2 and if they are mercers1 drapers1 or others1 that have many sorts of the same commodity1 you may soon be satisfied2 look upon their goods and you will find each of them have their private marks1 which is a certain sign that both are equally careful in concealing the prime cost of what they sell4 ,line #abh4 --------,as your gamesters do1 ,that1 though at fair play ne'er will own ,before the losers what they've won4 ,this being a general practice1 which no body can be ignorant of1 that has ever seen any play1 there must be something in the make of man that is the occasion of it3 but as the searching into this will seem very trifling to many1 ,i desire the reader to skip this remark1 unless he be in perfect good humour1 and has nothing at all to do4 ,that gamesters generally endeavour to conceal their gains before the losers1 seems to me to proceed from a mixture of gratitude1 pity1 and self-preservation4 ,all men are naturally grateful while they receive a benefit1 and what they say or do1 while it affects and feels warm about them1 is real1 and comes from the heart2 but when that is over1 the returns we make generally proceed from virtue1 good manners1 reason1 and the thoughts of duty1 but not from gratitude1 which is a motive of the inclination4 ,if we consider1 how tyrannically the immoderate love we bear to ourselves1 obliges us to esteem every body that with or without design acts in our favour1 and how often we extend our affection to things inanimate1 when we imagine them to contribute to our present advantage3 if1 ,i say1 we consider this1 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 gratitude4 ,the next motive is our pity1 which proceeds from our consciousness of the vexation there is in losing2 and as we love the esteem of every body1 we are afraid of forfeiting theirs by being the cause of their loss4 ,lastly1 we apprehend their envy1 and so self-preservation makes that we strive to extenuate first the obligation1 then the reason why we ought to pity1 in hopes that we shall have less of their ill-will and envy4 ,when the passions show themselves in their full strength1 they are known by every body3 ,when a man in power gives a great place to one that did him a small kindness in his youth1 we call it gratitude3 ,when a woman howls and wrings her hands at the loss of her child1 the prevalent passion is grief2 and the uneasiness we feel at the sight of great misfortunes1 as a man's breaking his legs1 or dashing his brains out1 is every where called pity4 ,but the gentle strokes1 the slight touches of the passions1 are generally overlooked or mistaken4 ,to prove my assertion1 we have but to observe what generally passes between the winner and the loser4 ,the first is always complaisant1 and if the other will but keep his temper1 more than ordinary obliging2 he is ever ready to humour the loser1 and willing to rectify his mistakes with precaution1 and the height of good manners4 ,the loser is uneasy1 captious1 morose1 and perhaps swears and storms2 yet as long as he says or does nothing designedly affronting1 the winner takes all in good part1 without offending1 disturbing1 or contradicting him4 ,losers1 says the proverb1 must have leave to rail3 ,all which shows that the loser is thought in the right to complain1 and for that very reason pitied4 ,that we are afraid of the loser's ill-will1 is plain from our being conscious that we are displeased with those we lose to1 and envy we always dread when we think ourselves happier than others3 ,from whence it follows1 that when the winner endeavours to conceal his gains1 his design is to avert the mischiefs he apprehends1 and this is self-preservation2 the cares of which continue to affect us as long as the motives that first produced them remain4 ,but a month1 a week1 or perhaps a much shorter time after1 when the thoughts of the obligation1 and consequently the winner's gratitude1 are worn off1 when the loser has recovered his temper1 laughs at his loss1 and the reason of the winner's pity ceases2 when the winner's apprehension of drawing upon him the ill-will and envy of the loser is gone2 that is to say1 as soon as all the passions are over1 and the cares of self-preservation employ the winner's thoughts no longer1 he will not only make no scruple of owning what he has won1 but will1 if his vanity steps in1 likewise1 with pleasure1 brag off1 if not exaggerate his gains4 ,it is possible1 that when people play together who are at enmity1 and perhaps desirous of picking a quarrel1 or where men playing for trifles contend for superiority of skill1 and aim chiefly at the glory of conquest1 nothing shall happen of what ,i have been talking of4 ,different passions oblige us to take different measures2 what ,i have said ,i would have understood of ordinary play for money1 at which men endeavour to get1 and venture to lose what they value3 ,and even here ,i know it will be objected by many1 that though they have been guilty of concealing their gains1 yet they never observed those passions which ,i allege as the causes of that frailty2 which is no wonder1 because few men will give themselves leisure1 and fewer yet take the right method of examining themselves as they should do4 ,it is with the passions in men1 as it is with colours in cloth3 ,it is easy to know a red1 a green1 a blue1 a yellow1 a black1 c4 in as many different places2 but it must be an artist that can unravel all the various colours and their proportions1 that make up the compound of a well-mixed cloth4 ,in the same manner1 may the passions be discovered by every body whilst they are distinct1 and a single one employs the whole man2 but it is very difficult to trace every motive of those actions that are the result of a mixture of passions4 ,line #afc4 ,and virtue1 who from politics ,has learn'd a thousand cunning tricks1 ,was1 by their happy influence1 ,made friends with vice4---- ,it may be said1 that virtue is made friends with vice1 when industrious good people1 who maintain their families1 and bring up their children handsomely1 pay taxes1 and are several ways useful members of the society1 get a livelihood by something that chiefly depends on1 or is very much influenced by the vices of others1 without being themselves guilty of1 or accessary to them1 any otherwise than by way of trade1 as a druggist may be to poisoning1 or a sword-cutler to blood-shed4 ,thus the merchant1 that sends corn or cloth into foreign parts to purchase wines and brandies1 encourages the growth or manufactory of his own country2 he is a benefactor to navigation1 increases the customs1 and is many ways beneficial to the public2 yet it is not to be denied1 but that his greatest dependence is lavishness and drunkenness3 ,for1 if none were to drink wine but such only as stand in need of it1 nor any body more than his health required1 that multitude of wine-merchants1 vintners1 coopers1 c4 that make such a considerable show in this flourishing city1 would be in a miserable condition4 ,the same may be said not only of card and dice-makers1 that are the immediate ministers to a legion of vices2 but that of mercers1 upholsterers1 tailors1 and many others1 that would be starved in half a year's time1 if pride and luxury were at once to be banished the nation4 ,line #afg4 ,the worst of all the multitude ,did something for the common good4 ,this1 ,i know1 will seem to be a strange paradox to many2 and ,i shall be asked what benefit the public receives from thieves and house-breakers4 ,they are1 ,i own1 very pernicious to human society1 and every government ought to take all imaginable care to root out and destroy them2 yet if all people were strictly honest1 and nobody would meddle with1 or pry into any thing but his own1 half the smiths of the nation would want employment2 and abundance of workmanship 7which now serves for ornament as well as defence7 is to be seen every where both in town and country1 that would never have been thought of1 but to secure us against the attempts of pilferers and robbers4 ,if what ,i have said be thought far fetched1 and my assertion seems still a paradox1 ,i desire the reader to look upon the consumption of things1 and he will find that the laziest and most unactive1 the profligate and most mischievous1 are all forced to do something for the common good1 and whilst their mouths are not sowed up1 and they continue to wear and otherwise destroy what the industrious are daily employed about to make1 fetch and procure1 in spite of their teeth obliged to help1 maintain the poor and the public charges4 ,the labour of millions would soon be at an end1 if there were not other millions1 as ,i say1 in the fable4 --------,employ'd1 ,to see their handy-works destroy'd4 ,but men are not to be judged by the consequences that may succeed their actions1 but the facts themselves1 and the motives which it shall appear they acted from4 ,if an ill-natured miser1 who is almost a plumb1 and spends but fifty pounds a-year1 though he has no relation to inherit his wealth1 should be robbed of five hundred or a thousand guineas1 it is certain1 that as soon as this money should come to circulate1 the nation would be the better for the robbery1 and receive the same1 and as real a benefit from it1 as if an archbishop had left the same sum to the public2 yet justice1 and the peace of society1 require that he or they who robbed the miser should be hanged1 though there were half a dozen of them concerned4 ,thieves and pick-pockets steal for a livelihood1 and either what they can get honestly is not sufficient to keep them1 or else they have an aversion to constant working3 they want to gratify their senses1 have victuals1 strong drink1 lewd women1 and to be idle when they please4 ,the victualler1 who entertains them1 and takes their money1 knowing which way they come at it1 is very near as great a villain as his guests4 ,but if he fleeces them well1 minds his business1 and is a prudent man1 he may get money1 and be punctual with them he deals with3 ,the trusty out-clerk1 whose chief aim is his master's profit1 sends him in what beer he wants1 and takes care not to lose his custom2 while the man's money is good1 he thinks it no business of his to examine whom he gets it by4 ,in the mean time1 the wealthy brewer1 who leaves all the management to his servants1 knows nothing of the matter1 but keeps his coach1 treats his friends1 and enjoys his pleasure with ease and a good conscience2 he gets an estate2 builds houses1 and educates his children in plenty1 without ever thinking on the labour which wretches perform1 the shifts fools make1 and the tricks knaves play to come at the commodity1 by the vast sale of which he amasses his great riches4 ,a highwayman having met with a considerable booty1 gives a poor common harlot1 he fancies1 ten pounds to new-rig her from top to toe2 is there a spruce mercer so conscientious that he will refuse to sell her a thread sattin1 though he knew who she was8 ,she must have shoes and stockings1 gloves1 the stay and mantua maker1 the sempstress1 the linen-draper1 all must get something by her1 and a hundred different tradesmen dependent on those she laid her money out with1 may touch part of it before a month is at an end4 ,the generous gentleman1 in the mean time1 his money being near spent1 ventured again on the road1 but the second day having committed a robbery near ,highgate1 he was taken with one of his accomplices1 and the next sessions both were condemned1 and suffered the law4 ,the money due on their conviction fell to three country fellows1 on whom it was admirably well bestowed4 ,one was an honest farmer1 a sober pains-taking man1 but reduced by misfortunes3 ,the summer before1 by the mortality among the cattle1 he had lost six cows out of ten1 and now his landlord1 to whom he owed thirty pounds1 had seized on all his stock4 ,the other was a day-labourer1 who struggled hard with the world1 had a sick wife at home1 and several small children to provide for4 ,the third was a gentleman's gardener1 who maintained his father in prison1 where1 being bound for a neighbour1 he had lain for twelve pounds almost a year and a half2 this act of filial duty was the more meritorious1 because he had for some time been engaged to a young woman1 whose parents lived in good circumstances1 but would not give their consent before our gardener had fifty guineas of his own to show4 ,they received above fourscore pounds each1 which extricated every one of them out of the difficulties they laboured under1 and made them1 in their opinion1 the happiest people in the world4 ,nothing is more destructive1 either in regard to the health or the vigilance and industry of the poor1 than the infamous liquor1 the name of which1 derived from ,juniper in ,dutch1 is now1 by frequent use1 and the laconic spirit of the nation1 from a word of middling length1 shrunk into a monosyllable1 intoxicating gin1 that charms the unactive1 the desperate and crazy of either sex1 and makes the starving sot behold his rags and nakedness with stupid indolence1 or banter both in senseless laughter1 and more insipid jests6 ,it is a fiery lake that sets the brain in flame1 burns up the entrails1 and scorches every part within2 and1 at the same time1 a ,lethe of oblivion1 in which the wretch immersed drowns his most pinching cares1 and with his reason1 all anxious reflection on brats that cry for food1 hard winters frosts1 and horrid empty home4 ,in hot and adust tempers it makes men quarrelsome1 renders them brutes and savages1 sets them on to fight for nothing1 and has often been the cause of murder4 ,it has broke and destroyed the strongest constitutions1 thrown them into consumptions1 and been the fatal and immediate occasion of apoplexies1 phrenzies1 and sudden death4 ,but1 as these latter mischiefs happen but seldom1 they might be overlooked and connived at3 but this cannot be said of the many diseases that are familiar to the liquor1 and which are daily and hourly produced by it2 such as loss of appetite1 fevers1 black and yellow jaundice1 convulsions1 stone and gravel1 dropsies1 and leucophlegmacies4 ,among the doting admirers of this liquid poison1 many of the meanest rank1 from a sincere affection to the commodity itself1 become dealers in it1 and take delight to help others to what they love themselves1 as whores commence bawds to make the profits of one trade subservient to the pleasures of the other4 ,but as these starvelings commonly drink more than their gains1 they seldom1 by selling1 mend the wretchedness of condition they laboured under while they were only buyers4 ,in the fag-end and outskirts of the town1 and all places of the vilest resort1 it is sold in some part or other of almost every house1 frequently in cellars1 and sometimes in the garret4 ,the petty traders in this ,stygian comfort1 are supplied by others in somewhat higher station1 that keep professed brandy shops1 and are as little to be envied as the former2 and among the middling people1 ,i know not a more miserable shift for a livelihood than their calling2 whoever would thrive in it must1 in the first place1 be of a watchful and suspicious1 as well as a bold and resolute temper1 that he may not be imposed upon by cheats and sharpers1 nor out-bullied by the oaths and imprecations of hackney coachmen and foot soldiers3 in the second1 he ought to be a dabster at gross jokes and loud laughter1 and have all the winning ways to allure customers and draw out their money1 and be well versed in the low jests and raileries the mob make use of to banter prudence and frugality4 ,he must be affable and obsequious to the most despicable2 always ready and officious to help a porter down with his load1 shake hands with a basket woman1 pull off his hat to an oyster wench1 and be familiar with a beggar2 with patience and good humour he must be able to endure the filthy actions and viler language of nasty drabs1 and the lewdest rakehells1 and without a frown1 or the least aversion1 bear with all the stench and squalor1 noise and impertinence1 that the utmost indigence1 laziness1 and ebriety1 can produce in the most shameless and abandoned vulgar4 ,the vast number of the shops ,i speak of throughout the city and suburbs1 are an astonishing evidence of the many seducers1 that1 in a lawful occupation1 are accessary to the introduction and increase of all the sloth1 sottishness1 want1 and misery1 which the abuse of strong waters is the immediate cause of1 to lift above mediocrity perhaps half a score men that deal in the same commodity by wholesale1 while1 among the retailers1 though qualified as ,i required1 a much greater number are broke and ruined1 for not abstaining from the ,circean cup they hold out to others1 and the more fortunate are their whole lifetime obliged to take the uncommon pains1 endure the hardships1 and swallow all the ungrateful and shocking things ,i named1 for little or nothing beyond a bare sustenance1 and their daily bread4 ,the short-sighted vulgar in the chain of causes seldom can see further than one link2 but those who can enlarge their view1 and will give themselves the leisure of gazing on the prospect of concatenated events1 may1 in a hundred places1 see good spring up and pullulate from evil1 as naturally as chickens do from eggs4 ,the money that arises from the duties upon malt is a considerable part of the national revenue1 and should no spirits be distilled from it1 the public treasure would prodigiously suffer on that head4 ,but if we would set in a true light the many advantages1 and large catalogue of solid blessings that accrue from1 and are owing to the evil ,i treat of1 we are to consider the rents that are received1 the ground that is tilled1 the tools that are made1 the cattle that are employed1 and above all1 the multitude of poor that are maintained1 by the variety of labour1 requited in husbandry1 in malting1 in carriage and distillation1 before we can have the product of malt1 which we call low wines1 and is but the beginning from which the various spirits are afterwards to be made4 ,besides this1 a sharp-sighted good-humoured man might pick up abundance of good from the rubbish1 which ,i have all flung away for evil4 ,he would tell me1 that whatever sloth and sottishness might be occasioned by the abuse of malt-spirits1 the moderate use of it was of inestimable benefit to the poor1 who could purchase no cordials of higher prices1 that it was an universal comfort1 not only in cold and weariness1 but most of the afflictions that are peculiar to the necessitous1 and had often to the most destitute supplied the places of meat1 drink1 clothes1 and lodging4 ,that the stupid indolence in the most wretched condition occasioned by those composing draughts1 which ,i complained of1 was a blessing to thousands1 for that certainly those were the happiest1 who felt the least pain4 ,as to diseases1 he would say1 that1 as it caused some1 so it cured others1 and that if the excess in those liquors had been sudden death to some few1 the habit of drinking them daily prolonged the lives of many1 whom once it agreed with2 that for the loss sustained from the insignificant quarrels it created at home1 we were overpaid in the advantage we received from it abroad1 by upholding the courage of soldiers1 and animating the sailors to the combat2 and that in the two last wars no considerable victory had been obtained without4 ,to the dismal account ,i have given of the retailers1 and what they are forced to submit to1 he would answer1 that not many acquired more than middling riches in any trade1 and that what ,i had counted so offensive and intolerable in the calling1 was trifling to those who were used to it2 that what seemed irksome and calamitous to some1 was delightful and often ravishing to others2 as men differed in circumstances and education4 ,he would put me in mind1 that the profit of an employment ever made amends for the toil and labour that belonged to it1 nor forget1 ,dulcis odor lucri e re qualibet2 or to tell me1 that the smell of gain was fragrant even to night-workers4 ,if ,i should ever urge to him1 that to have here and there one great and eminent distiller1 was a poor equivalent for the vile means1 the certain want1 and lasting misery of so many thousand wretches1 as were necessary to raise them1 he would answer1 that of this ,i could be no judge1 because ,i do not know what vast benefit they might afterwards be of to the commonwealth4 ,perhaps1 would he say1 the man thus raised will exert himself in the commission of the peace1 or other station1 with vigilance and zeal against the dissolute and disaffected1 and retaining his stirring temper1 be as industrious in spreading loyalty1 and the reformation of manners1 throughout every cranny of the wide populous town1 as once he was in filling it with spirits2 till he becomes at last the scourge of whores1 of vagabonds and beggars1 the terror of rioters and discontented rabbles1 and constant plague to sabbath-breaking butchers4 ,here my good-humoured antagonist would exult and triumph over me1 especially if he could instance to me such a bright example1 what an uncommon blessing1 would he cry out1 is this man to his country6 how shining and illustrious his virtue6 ,to justify his exclamation1 he would demonstrate to me1 that it was impossible to give a fuller evidence of self-denial in a grateful mind1 than to see him at the expence of his quiet and hazard of his life and limbs1 be always harassing1 and even for trifles1 persecuting that very class of men to whom he owes his fortune1 from no other motive than his aversion to idleness1 and great concern for religion and the public welfare4 ,line #agc4 ,parties directly opposite1 ,assist each other1 as 'twere for spite4 ,nothing was more instrumental in forwarding the ,reformation1 than the sloth and stupidity of the ,roman clergy2 yet the same reformation has roused them from the laziness and ignorance they then laboured under2 and the followers of ,luther1 ,calvin1 and others1 may be said to have reformed not only those whom they drew into their sentiment1 but likewise those who remained their greatest opposers4 ,the clergy of ,england1 by being severe upon the ,schismatics1 and upbraiding them with want of learning1 have raised themselves such formidable enemies as are not easily answered2 and again1 the ,dissenters by prying into the lives1 and diligently watching all the actions of their powerful antagonists1 render those of the ,established ,church more cautious of giving offence1 than in all probability they would1 if they had no malicious over-lookers to fear4 ,it is very much owing to the great number of ,huguenots that have always been in ,france1 since the late utter extirpation of them1 that that kingdom has a less dissolute and more learned clergy to boast of than any other ,roman ,catholic country4 ,the clergy of that church are no where more sovereign than in ,italy1 and therefore no where more debauched2 nor any where more ignorant than they are in ,spain1 because their doctrine is nowhere less opposed4 ,who would imagine1 that virtuous women1 unknowingly1 should be instrumental in promoting the advantage of prostitutes8 ,or 7what still seems the greater paradox7 that incontinence should be made serviceable to the preservation of chastity8 and yet nothing is more true4 ,a vicious young fellow1 after having been an hour or two at church1 a ball1 or any other assembly1 where there is a great parcel of handsome women dressed to the best advantage1 will have his imagination more fired1 than if he had the same time been poling at ,guildhall1 or walking in the country among a flock of sheep4 ,the consequence of this is1 that he will strive to satisfy the appetite that is raised in him2 and when he finds honest women obstinate and uncomatable1 it is very natural to think1 that he will hasten to others that are more compliable4 ,who would so much as surmise1 that this is the fault of the virtuous women8 ,they have no thoughts of men in dressing themselves1 poor souls1 and endeavour only to appear clean and decent1 every one according to her quality4 ,i am far from encouraging vice1 and think it would be an unspeakable felicity to a state1 if the sin of uncleanness could be utterly banished from it2 but ,i am afraid it is impossible3 ,the passions of some people are too violent to be curbed by any law or precept2 and it is wisdom in all governments to bear with lesser inconveniencies to prevent greater4 ,if courtezans and strumpets were to be prosecuted with as much rigour as some silly people would have it1 what locks or bars would be sufficient to preserve the honour of our wives and daughters8 ,for it is not only that the women in general would meet with far greater temptations1 and the attempts to ensnare the innocence of virgins would seem more excusable1 even to the sober part of mankind1 than they do now3 but some men would grow outrageous1 and ravishing would become a common crime4 ,where six or seven thousand sailors arrive at once1 as it often happens1 at ,amsterdam1 that have seen none but their own sex for many months together1 how is it to be supposed that honest women should walk the streets unmolested1 if there were no harlots to be had at reasonable prices8 for which reason1 the wise rulers of that well-ordered city always tolerate an uncertain number of houses1 in which women are hired as publicly as horses at a livery stable2 and there being in this toleration a great deal of prudence and economy to be seen1 a short account of it will be no tiresome digression4 ,in the first place1 the houses ,i speak of are allowed to be no where but in the most slovenly and unpolished part of the town1 where seamen and strangers of no repute chiefly lodge and resort4 ,the street in which most of them stand is counted scandalous1 and the infamy is extended to all the neighbourhood round it4 ,in the second1 they are only places to meet and bargain in1 to make appointments in order to promote interviews of greater secrecy1 and no manner of lewdness is ever suffered to be transacted in them3 which order is so strictly observed1 that bar the ill manners and noise of the company that frequent them1 you will meet with no more indecency1 and generally less lasciviousness there1 than with us are to be seen at a playhouse4 ,thirdly1 the female traders that come to these evening exchanges are always the scum of the people1 and generally such as in the day time carry fruit and other eatables about in wheel-barrows4 ,the habits1 indeed1 they appear in at night are very different from their ordinary ones2 yet they are commonly so ridiculously gay1 that they look more like the ,roman dresses of strolling actresses than gentlewomen's clothes3 if to this you add the awkwardness1 the hard hands1 and coarse breeding of the damsels that wear them1 there is no great reason to fear1 that many of the better sort of people will be tempted by them4 ,the music in these temples of ,venus is performed by organs1 not out of respect to the deity that is worshipped in them1 but the frugality of the owners1 whose business it is to procure as much sound for as little money as they can1 and the policy of the government1 who endeavour1 as little as is possible to encourage the breed of pipers and scrapers4 ,all seafaring men1 especially the ,dutch1 are like the element they belong to1 much given to loudness and roaring1 and the noise of half-a-dozen of them1 when they call themselves merry1 is sufficient to drown twice the number of flutes or violins2 whereas1 with one pair of organs1 they can make the whole house ring1 and are at no other charge than the keeping of one scurvy musician1 which can cost them but little3 yet notwithstanding the good rules and strict discipline that are observed in these markets of love1 the schout and his officers are always vexing1 mulcting1 and1 upon the least complaint1 removing the miserable keepers of them3 which policy is of two great uses2 first1 it gives an opportunity to a large parcel of officers1 the magistrates make use of on many occasions1 and which they could not be without1 to squeeze a living out of the immoderate gains accruing from the worst of employments1 and1 at the same time1 punish those necessary profligates1 the bawds and panders1 which1 though they abominate1 they desire yet not wholly to destroy4 ,secondly1 as on several accounts it might be dangerous to let the multitude into the secret1 that those houses and the trade that is drove in them are connived at1 so by this means appearing unblameable1 the wary magistrates preserve themselves in the good opinion of the weaker sort of people1 who imagine that the government is always endeavouring1 though unable1 to suppress what it actually tolerates3 whereas1 if they had a mind to root them out1 their power in the administration of justice is so sovereign and extensive1 and they know so well how to have it executed1 that one week1 nay1 one night might send them all a packing4 ,in ,italy1 the toleration of strumpets is yet more barefaced1 as is evident from their public stews4 ,at ,venice and ,naples1 impurity is a kind of merchandise and traffic2 the courtezans at ,rome1 and the cantoneras in ,spain1 compose a body in the state1 and are under a legal tax and impost4 ,it is well known1 that the reason why so many good politicians as these tolerate lewd houses1 is not their irreligion1 but to prevent a worse evil1 an impurity of a more execrable kind1 and to provide for the safety of women of honour4 ,about two hundred and fifty years ago1 says ,monsieur de ,st4 ,didier1 ,venice being in want of courtezans1 the republic was obliged to procure a great number from foreign parts4 ,doglioni1 who has written the memorable affairs of ,venice1 highly extols the wisdom of the republic in this point1 which secured the chastity of women of honour1 daily exposed to public violences1 the churches and consecrated places not being a sufficient asylum for their chastity4 ,our universities in ,england are much belied1 if in some colleges there was not a monthly allowance ad expurgandos renes3 and time was when monks and priests in ,germany were allowed concubines on paying a certain yearly duty to their prelate4 ,it is generally believed says ,monsieur ,bayle1 7to whom ,i owe the last paragraph7 that avarice was the cause of this shameful indulgence2 but it is more probable their design was to prevent their tempting modest women1 and to quiet the uneasiness of husbands1 whose resentments the clergy do well to avoid4 ,from what has been said1 it is manifest that there is a necessity of sacrificing one part of womankind to preserve the other1 and prevent a filthiness of a more heinous nature4 ,from whence ,i think ,i may justly conclude 7what was the seeming paradox ,i went about to prove7 that chastity may be supported by incontinence1 and the best of virtues want the assistance of the worst of vices4 ,line #agg4 ,the root of evil1 avarice1 ,that damn'd ill-natur'd baneful vice1 ,was slave to prodigality4 ,i have joined so many odious epithets to the word avarice1 in compliance to the vogue of mankind1 who generally bestow more ill language upon this than upon any other vice1 and indeed not undeservedly2 for there is hardly a mischief to be named which it has not produced at one time or other3 but the true reason why every body exclaims so much against it1 is1 that almost every body suffers by it2 for the more the money is hoarded up by some1 the scarcer it must grow among the rest1 and therefore when men rail very much at misers1 there is generally self-interest at bottom4 ,as there is no living without money1 so those that are unprovided1 and have nobody to give them any1 are obliged to do some service or other to the society1 before they can come at it2 but every body esteeming his labour as he does himself1 which is generally not under the value1 most people that want money only to spend it again presently1 imagine they do more for it than it is worth4 ,men cannot forbear looking upon the necessaries of life as their due1 whether they work or not2 because they find that nature1 without consulting whether they have victuals or not1 bids them eat whenever they are hungry2 for which reason1 every body endeavours to get what he wants with as much ease as he can2 and therefore when men find that the trouble they are put to in getting money is either more or less1 according as those they would have it from are more or less tenacious1 it is very natural for them to be angry at covetousness in general2 for it obliges them either to go without what they have occasion for1 or else to take greater pains for it than they are willing4 ,avarice1 notwithstanding it is the occasion of so many evils1 is yet very necessary to the society1 to glean and gather what has been dropt and scattered by the contrary vice4 ,was it not for avarice1 spendthrifts would soon want materials2 and if none would lay up and get faster than they spend1 very few could spend faster than they get4 ,that it is a slave to prodigality1 as ,i have called it1 is evident from so many misers as we daily see toil and labour1 pinch and starve themselves1 to enrich a lavish heir4 ,though these two vices appear very opposite1 yet they often assist each other4 ,florio is an extravagant young blade1 of a very profuse temper2 as he is the only son of a very rich father1 he wants to live high1 keep horses and dogs1 and throw his money about1 as he sees some of his companions do2 but the old hunks will part with no money1 and hardly allows him necessaries4 ,florio would have borrowed money upon his own credit long ago2 but as all would be lost1 if he died before his father1 no prudent man would lend him any4 ,at last he has met with the greedy ,cornaro1 who lets him have money at thirty per cent4 and now ,florio thinks himself happy1 and spends a thousand a-year4 ,where would ,cornaro ever have got such a prodigious interest1 if it was not for such a fool as ,florio1 who will give so great a price for money to fling it away8 ,and how would ,florio get it to spend1 if he had not lit of such a greedy usurer as ,cornaro1 whose excessive covetousness makes him overlook the great risk he runs in venturing such great sums upon the life of a wild debauchee4 ,avarice is no longer the reverse of profuseness1 than while it signifies that sordid love of money1 and narrowness of soul that hinders misers from parting with what they have1 and makes them covet it only to hoard up4 ,but there is a sort of avarice which consists in a greedy desire of riches1 in order to spend them1 and this often meets with prodigality in the same persons1 as is evident in most courtiers and great officers1 both civil and military4 ,in their buildings and furniture1 equipages and entertainments1 their gallantry is displayed with the greatest profusion2 while the base actions they submit to for lucre1 and the many frauds and impositions they are guilty of1 discover the utmost avarice4 ,this mixture of contrary vices1 comes up exactly to the character of ,catiline1 of whom it is said1 that he was appetens alieni sui profusus1 greedy after the goods of others1 and lavish of his own4 ,line #ahj4 ,that noble sin---- ,the prodigality1 ,i call a noble sin1 is not that which has avarice for its companion1 and makes men unreasonably profuse to some of what they unjustly extort from others1 but that agreeable good-natured vice that makes the chimney smoke1 and all the tradesmen smile2 ,i mean the unmixed prodigality of heedless and voluptuous men1 that being educated in plenty1 abhor the vile thoughts of lucre1 and lavish away only what others took pains to scrape together2 such as indulge their inclinations at their own expence1 that have the continual satisfaction of bartering old gold for new pleasures1 and from the excessive largeness of a diffusive soul1 are made guilty of despising too much what most people overvalue4 ,when ,i speak thus honourably of this vice1 and treat it with so much tenderness and good manners as ,i do1 ,i have the same thing at heart that made me give so many ill names to the reverse of it1 viz4 the interest of the public2 for as the avaricious does no good to himself1 and is injurious to all the world besides1 except his heir1 so the prodigal is a blessing to the whole society1 and injures no body but himself4 ,it is true1 that as most of the first are knaves1 so the latter are all fools2 yet they are delicious morsels for the public to feast on1 and may with as much justice1 as the ,french call the monks the patridges of the women1 be styled the woodcocks of the society4 ,was it not for prodigality1 nothing could make us amends for the rapine and extortion of avarice in power4 ,when a covetous statesman is gone1 who spent his whole life in fattening himself with the spoils of the nation1 and had by pinching and plundering heaped up an immense treasure1 it ought to fill every good member of the society with joy1 to behold the uncommon profuseness of his son4 ,this is refunding to the public what was robbed from it4 ,resuming of grants is a barbarous way of stripping1 and it is ignoble to ruin a man faster than he does it himself1 when he sets about it in such good earnest4 ,does he not feed an infinite number of dogs of all sorts and sizes1 though he never hunts2 keep more horses than any nobleman in the kingdom1 though he never rides them2 and give as large an allowance to an ill-favoured whore as would keep a dutchess1 though he never lies with her8 ,is he not still more extravagant in those things he makes use of8 ,therefore let him alone1 or praise him1 call him public-spirited lord1 nobly bountiful and magnificently generous1 and in a few years he will suffer himself to be stript his own way4 ,as long as the nation has its own back again1 we ought not to quarrel with the manner in which the plunder is repaid4 ,abundance of moderate men1 ,i know1 that are enemies to extremes1 will tell me1 that frugality might happily supply the place of the two vices ,i speak of1 that if men had not so many profuse ways of spending wealth1 they would not be tempted to so many evil practices to scrape it together1 and consequently that the same number of men1 by equally avoiding both extremes1 might render themselves more happy1 and be less vicious without1 than they could with them4 ,whoever argues thus1 shows himself a better man than he is a politician4 ,frugality is like honesty1 a mean starving virtue1 that is only fit for small societies of good peaceable men1 who are contented to be poor1 so they may be easy2 but1 in a large stirring nation1 you may have soon enough of it4 ,it is an idle dreaming virtue that employs no hands1 and therefore very useless in a trading country1 where there are vast numbers that one way or other must be all set to work4 ,prodigality has a thousand inventions to keep people from sitting still1 that frugality would never think of2 and as this must consume a prodigious wealth1 so avarice again knows innumerable tricks to raise it together1 which frugality would scorn to make use of4 ,authors are always allowed to compare small things to great ones1 especially if they ask leave first4 ,si licit exemplis1 c4 but to compare great things to mean trivial ones1 is unsufferable1 unless it be in burlesque2 otherwise ,i would compare the body politic 7,i confess the simile is very low7 to a bowl of punch4 ,avarice should be the souring1 and prodigality the sweetening of it4 ,the water ,i would call the ignorance1 folly1 and credulity of the floating insipid multitude2 while wisdom1 honour1 fortitude1 and the rest of the sublime qualities of men1 which separated by art from the dregs of nature1 the fire of glory has exalted and refined into a spiritual essence1 should be an equivalent to brandy4 ,i do not doubt but a ,westphalian1 ,laplander1 or any other dull stranger that is unacquainted with the wholesome composition1 if he was to sell the several ingredients apart1 would think it impossible they should make any tolerable liquor4 ,the lemons would be too sour1 the sugar too luscious1 the brandy he will say is too strong ever to be drank in any quantity1 and the water he will call a tasteless liquor1 only fit for cows and horses3 yet experience teaches us1 that the ingredients ,i named1 judiciously mixed1 will make an excellent liquor1 liked of1 and admired by men of exquisite palates4 ,as to our vices in particular1 ,i could compare avarice1 that causes so much mischief1 and is complained of by every body who is not a miser1 to a griping acid that sets our teeth on edge1 and is unpleasant to every palate that is not debauched3 ,i could compare the gaudy trimming and splendid equipage of a profuse beau1 to the glistening brightness of the finest loaf sugar2 for as the one1 by correcting the sharpness1 prevent the injuries which a gnawing sour might do to the bowels1 so the other is a pleasing balsam that heals and makes amends for the smart1 which the multitude always suffers from the gripes of the avaricious2 while the substances of both melt away alike1 and they consume themselves by being beneficial to the several compositions they belong to4 ,i could carry on the simile as to proportions1 and the exact nicety to be observed in them1 which would make it appear how little any of the ingredients could be spared in either of the mixtures2 but ,i will not tire my reader by pursuing too far a ludicrous comparison1 when ,i have other matters to entertain him with of greater importance2 and to sum up what ,i have said in this and the foregoing remark1 shall only add1 that ,i look upon avarice and prodigality in the society1 as ,i do upon two contrary poisons in physic1 of which it is certain that the noxious qualities being by mutual mischief corrected in both1 they may assist each other1 and often make a good medicine between them4 ,line #ahj4 --------,whilst luxury ,employ'd a million of the poor1 c4 ,if every thing is to be luxury 7as in strictness it ought7 that is not immediately necessary to make man subsist as he is a living creature1 there is nothing else to be found in the world1 no not even among the naked savages2 of which it is not probable that there are any but what by this time have made some improvements upon their former manner of living2 and either in the preparation of their eatables1 the ordering of their huts1 or otherwise1 added something to what once sufficed them4 ,this definition every body will say is too rigorous3 ,i am of the same opinion2 but if we are to abate one inch of this severity1 ,i am afraid we shall not know where to stop4 ,when people tell us they only desire to keep themselves sweet and clean1 there is no understanding what they would be at3 if they made use of these words in their genuine proper literal sense1 they might be soon satisfied without much cost or trouble1 if they did not want water3 but these two little adjectives are so comprehensive1 especially in the dialect of some ladies1 that nobody can guess how far they may be stretched4 ,the comforts of life are likewise so various and extensive1 that nobody can tell what people mean by them1 except he knows what sort of life they lead4 ,the same obscurity ,i observe in the words decency and conveniency1 and ,i never understand them1 unless ,i am acquainted with the quality of the persons that make use of them4 ,people may go to church together1 and be all of one mind as much as they please1 ,i am apt to believe that when they pray for their daily bread1 the bishop includes several things in that petition which the sexton does not think on4 ,by what ,i have said hitherto ,i would only show1 that if once we depart from calling every thing luxury that is not absolutely necessary to keep a man alive1 that then there is no luxury at all2 for if the wants of men are innumerable1 then what ought to supply them has no bounds2 what is called superfluous1 to some degree of people1 will be thought requisite to those of higher quality2 and neither the world1 nor the skill of man can produce any thing so curious or extravagant1 but some most gracious sovereign or other1 if it either eases or diverts him1 will reckon it among the necessaries of life2 not meaning every body's life1 but that of his sacred person4 ,it is a received notion1 that luxury is as destructive to the wealth of the whole body politic1 as it is to that of every individual person who is guilty of it1 and that a national frugality enriches a country in the same manner1 as that which is less general increases the estates of private families4 ,i confess1 that though ,i have found men of much better understanding than myself of this opinion1 ,i cannot help dissenting from them in this point4 ,they argue thus3 ,we send1 say they1 for example1 to ,turkey of woollen manufactury1 and other things of our own growth1 a million's worth every year2 for this we bring back silk1 mohair1 drugs1 c4 to the value of twelve hundred thousand pounds1 that are all spent in our own country4 ,by this1 say they1 we get nothing2 but if most of us would be content with our own growth1 and so consume but half the quantity of those foreign commodities1 then those in ,turkey1 who would still want the same quantity of our manufactures1 would be forced to pay ready money for the rest1 and so by the balance of that trade only1 the nation should get six hundred thousand pounds per annum4 ,to examine the force of this argument1 we will suppose 7what they would have7 that but half the silk1 c4 shall be consumed in ,england of what there is now2 we will suppose likewise1 that those in ,turkey1 though we refuse to buy above half as much of their commodities as we used to do1 either can or will not be without the same quantity of our manufactures they had before1 and that they will pay the balance in money2 that is to say1 that they shall give us as much gold or silver1 as the value of what they buy from us1 exceeds the value of what we buy from them4 ,though what we suppose might perhaps be done for one year1 it is impossible it should last3 ,buying is bartering2 and no nation can buy goods of others1 that has none of her own to purchase them with4 ,spain and ,portugal1 that are yearly supplied with new gold and silver from their mines1 may for ever buy for ready money1 as long as their yearly increase of gold or silver continues2 but then money is their growth1 and the commodity of the country4 ,we know that we could not continue long to purchase the goods of other nations1 if they would not take our manufactures in payment for them2 and why should we judge otherwise of other nations8 ,if those in ,turkey1 then1 had no more money fall from the skies than we1 let us see what would be the consequence of what we supposed4 ,the six hundred thousand pounds in silk1 mohair1 c4 that are left upon their hands the first year1 must make those commodities fall considerably3 ,of this the ,dutch and ,french will reap the benefit as much as ourselves2 and if we continue to refuse taking their commodities in payment for our manufactures1 they can trade no longer with us1 but must content themselves with buying what they want of such nations as are willing to take what we refuse1 though their goods are much worse than ours2 and thus our commerce with ,turkey must in few years be infallibly lost4 ,but they will say1 perhaps1 that to prevent the ill consequence ,i have showed1 we shall take the ,turkish merchandise as formerly1 and only be so frugal as to consume but half the quantity of them ourselves1 and send the rest abroad to be sold to others4 ,let us see what this will do1 and whether it will enrich the nation by the balance of that trade with six hundred thousand pounds4 ,in the first place1 ,i will grant them that our people at home making use of so much more of our own manufactures1 those who were employed in silk1 mohair1 c4 will get a living by the various preparations of woollen goods4 ,but1 in the second1 ,i cannot allow that the goods can be sold as formerly2 for suppose the half that is wore at home to be sold at the same rate as before1 certainly the other half that is sent abroad will want very much of it3 ,for we must send those goods to markets already supplied2 and besides that1 there must be freight1 insurance1 provision1 and all other charges deducted1 and the merchants in general must lose much more by this half that is reshipped1 than they got by the half that is consumed here4 ,for1 though the woollen manufactures are our own product1 yet they stand the merchant that ships them off to foreign countries1 in as much as they do the shopkeeper here that retails them3 so that if the returns for what he sends abroad repay him not what his goods cost him here1 with all other charges1 till he has the money and a good interest for it in cash1 the merchant must run out1 and the upshot would be1 that the merchants in general1 finding they lost by the ,turkish commodities they sent abroad1 would ship no more of our manufactures1 than what would pay for as much silk1 mohair1 c4 as would be consumed here4 ,other nations would soon find ways to supply them with as much as we should send short1 and some where or other to dispose of the goods we should refuse3 ,so that all we should get by this frugality1 would be1 that those in ,turkey would take but half the quantity of our manufactures of what they do now1 while we encourage and wear their merchandises1 without which they are not able to purchase ours4 ,as ,i have had the mortification1 for several years1 to meet with abundance of sensible people against this opinion1 and who always thought me wrong in this calculation1 so ,i had the pleasure at last to see the wisdom of the nation fall into the same sentiments1 as is so manifest from an act of parliament made in the year #agba1 where the legislature disobliges a powerful and valuable company1 and overlooks very weighty inconveniences at home1 to promote the interest of the ,turkey trade1 and not only encourages the consumption of silk and mohair1 but forces the subjects1 on penalties1 to make use of them whether they will or not4 ,what is laid to the charge of luxury besides1 is1 that it increases avarice and rapine3 ,and where they are reigning vices1 offices of the greatest trust are bought and sold2 the ministers that should serve the public1 both great and small1 corrupted1 and the countries every moment in danger of being betrayed to the highest bidders3 ,and1 lastly1 that it effeminates and enervates the people1 by which the nations become an easy prey to the first invaders4 ,these are indeed terrible things2 but what is put to the account of luxury belongs to male-administration1 and is the fault of bad politics4 ,every government ought to be thoroughly acquainted with1 and stedfastly to pursue the interest of the country4 ,good politicians1 by dexterous management1 laying heavy impositions on some goods1 or totally prohibiting them1 and lowering the duties on others1 may always turn and divert the course of trade which way they please2 and as they will ever prefer1 if it be equally considerable1 the commerce with such countries as can pay with money as well as goods1 to those that can make no returns for what they buy1 but in the commodities of their own growth and manufactures1 so they will always carefully prevent the traffic with such nations as refuse the goods of others1 and will take nothing but money for their own4 ,but1 above all1 they will keep a watchful eye over the balance of trade in general1 and never suffer that all the foreign commodities together1 that are imported in one year1 shall exceed in value what of their own growth or manufacture is in the same imported to others4 ,note1 ,that ,i speak now of the interest of those nations that have no gold or silver of their own growth1 otherwise this maxim need not to be so much insisted on4 ,if what ,i urged last1 be but diligently looked after1 and the imports are never allowed to be superior to the exports1 no nation can ever be impoverished by foreign luxury2 and they may improve it as much as they please1 if they can but in proportion raise the fund of their own that is to purchase it4 ,trade is the principal1 but not the only requisite to aggrandize a nation3 there are other things to be taken care of besides4 ,the meum and tuum must be secured1 crimes punished1 and all other laws concerning the administration of justice1 wisely contrived1 and strictly executed4 ,foreign affairs must be likewise prudently managed1 and the ministry of every nation ought to have a good intelligence abroad1 and be well acquainted with the public transactions of all those countries1 that either by their neighbourhood1 strength1 or interest1 may be hurtful or beneficial to them1 to take the necessary measures accordingly1 of crossing some1 and assisting others1 as policy1 and the balance of power direct4 ,the multitude must be awed1 no man's conscience forced1 and the clergy allowed no greater share in state affairs1 than our ,saviour has bequeathed in his testament4 ,these are the arts that lead to worldly greatness3 ,what sovereign power soever makes a good use of them1 that has any considerable nation to govern1 whether it be a monarchy1 a commonwealth1 or a mixture of both1 can never fail of making it flourish in spite of all the other powers upon earth1 and no luxury1 or other vice1 is ever able to shake their constitution4----,but here ,i expect a full-mouthed cry against me2 ,what6 has ,god never punished and destroyed great nations for their sins8 ,yes1 but not without means1 by infatuating their governors1 and suffering them to depart from either all or some of those general maxims ,i have mentioned2 and of all the famous states and empires the world has had to boast of hitherto1 none ever came to ruin1 whose destruction was not principally owing to the bad politics1 neglects1 or mismanagements of the rulers4 ,there is no doubt1 but more health and vigour is expected among the people1 and their offspring1 from temperance and sobriety1 than there is from gluttony and drunkenness2 yet ,i confess1 that as to luxury's effeminating and enervating a nation1 ,i have not such frightful notions now1 as ,i have had formerly4 ,when we hear or read of things which we are altogether strangers to1 they commonly bring to our imagination such ideas of what we have seen1 as 7according to our apprehension7 must come the nearest to them3 ,and ,i remember1 that when ,i have read of the luxury of ,persia1 ,egypt1 and other countries where it has been a reigning vice1 and that were effeminated and enervated by it1 it has sometimes put me in mind of the cramming and swilling of ordinary tradesmen at a city feast1 and the beastliness their overgorging themselves is often attended with2 at other times1 it has made me think on the distraction of dissolute sailors1 as ,i had seen them in company of half a dozen lewd women1 roaring along with fiddles before them2 and was ,i to have been carried into any of their great cities1 ,i would have expected to have found one third of the people sick a-bed with surfeits2 another laid up with the gout1 or crippled by a more ignominious distemper2 and the rest1 that could go without leading1 walk along the streets in petticoats4 ,it is happy for us to have fear for a keeper1 as long as our reason is not strong enough to govern our appetites3 ,and ,i believe1 that the great dread ,i had more particularly against the word1 to enervate1 and some consequent thoughts on the etymology of it1 did me abundance of good when ,i was a school boy3 ,but since ,i have seen something in the world1 the consequences of luxury to a nation seem not so dreadful to me as they did4 ,as long as men have the same appetites1 the same vices will remain4 ,in all large societies1 some will love whoring1 and others drinking4 ,the lustful that can get no handsome clean women1 will content themselves with dirty drabs3 and those that cannot purchase true ,hermitage or ,pontack1 will be glad of more ordinary ,french claret4 ,those that cannot reach wine1 take up with most liquors1 and a foot soldier or a beggar may make himself as drunk with stale beer or malt spirits1 as a lord with ,burgundy1 ,champaign1 or ,tockay4 ,the cheapest and most slovenly way of indulging our passions1 does as much mischief to a man's constitution1 as the most elegant and expensive4 ,the greatest excesses of luxury are shown in buildings1 furniture1 equipages1 and clothes3 ,clean linen weakens a man no more than flannel2 tapestry1 fine painting1 or good wainscot1 are no more unwholesome than bare walls2 and a rich couch1 or a gilt chariot1 are no more enervating than the cold floor1 or a country cart4 ,the refined pleasures of men of sense are seldom injurious to their constitution1 and there are many great epicures that will refuse to eat or drink more than their heads or stomachs can bear4 ,sensual people may take as great care of themselves as any3 and the errors of the most viciously luxurious1 do not so much consist in the frequent repetitions of their lewdness1 and their eating and drinking too much 7which are the things which would most enervate them71 as they do in the operose contrivances1 the profuseness and nicety they are served with1 and the vast expence they are at in their tables and amours4 ,but let us once suppose1 that the ease and pleasures1 the grandees1 and the rich people of every nation live in1 render them unfit to endure hardships1 and undergo the toils of war4 ,i will allow that most of the common council of the city would make but very indifferent foot soldiers2 and ,i believe heartily1 that if your horse was to be composed of aldermen1 and such as most of them are1 a small artillery of squibs would be sufficient to route them4 ,but what have the aldermen1 the common council1 or indeed all people of any substance to do with the war1 but to pay taxes8 ,the hardships and fatigues of war that are personally suffered1 fall upon them that bear the brunt of every thing1 the meanest indigent part of the nation1 the working slaving people3 ,for how excessive soever the plenty and luxury of a nation may be1 some body must do the work1 houses and ships must be built1 merchandises must be removed1 and the ground tilled4 ,such a variety of labours in every great nation1 require a vast multitude1 in which there are always loose1 idle1 extravagant fellows enough to spare for an army2 and those that are robust enough to hedge and ditch1 plow and thrash1 or else not too much enervated to be smiths1 carpenters1 sawyers1 cloth-workers1 porters or carmen1 will always be strong and hardy enough in a campaign or two to make good soldiers1 who1 where good orders are kept1 have seldom so much plenty and superfluity come to their share1 as to do them any hurt4 ,the mischief1 then1 to be feared from luxury among the people of war1 cannot extend itself beyond the officers4 ,the greatest of them are either men of a very high birth and princely education1 or else extraordinary parts1 and no less experience2 and whoever is made choice of by a wise government to command an army en chef1 should have a consummate knowledge in martial affairs1 intrepidity to keep him calm in the midst of danger1 and many other qualifications that must be the work of time and application1 on men of a quick penetration1 a distinguished genius1 and a world of honour4 ,strong sinews and supple joints are trifling advantages1 not regarded in persons of their reach and grandeur1 that can destroy cities a-bed1 and ruin whole countries while they are at dinner4 ,as they are most commonly men of great age1 it would be ridiculous to expect a hale constitution and agility of limbs from them3 ,so their heads be but active and well furnished1 it is no great matter what the rest of their bodies are4 ,if they cannot bear the fatigue of being on horseback1 they may ride in coaches1 or be carried in litters4 ,mens conduct and sagacity are never the less for their being cripples1 and the best general the king of ,france has now1 can hardly crawl along4 ,those that are immediately under the chief commanders must be very nigh of the same abilities1 and are generally men that have raised themselves to those posts by their merit4 ,the other officers are all of them in their several stations obliged to lay out so large a share of their pay in fine clothes1 accoutrements1 and other things1 by the luxury of the times called necessary1 that they can spare but little money for debauches2 for1 as they are advanced1 and their salaries raised1 so they are likewise forced to increase their expences and their equipages1 which1 as well as every thing else1 must still be proportionable to their quality3 by which means1 the greatest part of them are in a manner hindered from those excesses that might be destructive to health2 while their luxury thus turned another way1 serves1 moreover1 to heighten their pride and vanity1 the greatest motives to make them behave themselves like what they would be thought to be 7,see ,remark on l4 #cba74 ,there is nothing refines mankind more than love and honour4 ,those two passions are equivalent to many virtues1 and therefore the greatest schools of breeding and good manners1 are courts and armies2 the first to accomplish the women1 the other to polish the men4 ,what the generality of officers among civilized nations affect1 is a perfect knowledge of the world and the rules of honour2 an air of frankness1 and humanity peculiar to military men of experience1 and such a mixture of modesty and undauntedness1 as may bespeak them both courteous and valiant4 ,where good sense is fashionable1 and a genteel behaviour is in esteem1 gluttony and drunkenness can be no reigning vices4 ,what officers of distinction chiefly aim at1 is not a beastly1 but a splendid way of living1 and the wishes of the most luxurious1 in their several degrees of quality1 are to appear handsomely1 and excel each other in finery of equipage1 politeness of entertainments1 and the reputation of a judicious fancy in every thing about them4 ,but if there should be more dissolute reprobates among officers1 than there are among men of other professions1 which is not true1 yet the most debauched of them may be very serviceable1 if they have but a great share of honour4 ,it is this that covers and makes up for a multitude of defects in them1 and it is this that none 7how abandoned soever they are to pleasure7 dare pretend to be without4 ,but as there is no argument so convincing as matter of fact1 let us look back on what so lately happened in our two last wars with ,france4 ,how many puny young striplings have we had in our armies1 tenderly educated1 nice in their dress1 and curious in their diet1 that underwent all manner of duties with gallantry and cheerfulness8 ,those that have such dismal apprehensions of luxury's enervating and effeminating people1 might1 in ,flanders and ,spain have seen embroidered beaux with fine laced shirts and powdered wigs stand as much fire1 and lead up to the mouth of a cannon1 with as little concern as it was possible for the most stinking slovens to have done in their own hair1 though it had not been combed in a month1 and met with abundance of wild rakes1 who had actually impaired their healths1 and broke their constitutions with excesses of wine and women1 that yet behaved themselves with conduct and bravery against their enemies4 ,robustness is the least thing required in an officer1 and if sometimes strength is of use1 a firm resolution of mind1 which the hopes of preferment1 emulation1 and the love of glory inspire them with1 will at a push supply the place of bodily force4 ,those that understand their business1 and have a sufficient sense of honour1 as soon as they are used to danger will always be capable officers3 and their luxury1 as long as they spend nobody's money but their own1 will never be prejudicial to a nation4 ,by all which1 ,i think1 ,i have proved what ,i designed in this remark on luxury4 ,first1 that in one sense every thing may be called so1 and in another there is no such thing4 ,secondly1 that with a wise administration all people may swim in as much foreign luxury as their product can purchase1 without being impoverished by it4 ,and1 lastly1 that where military affairs are taken care of as they ought1 and the soldiers well paid and kept in good discipline1 a wealthy nation may live in all the ease and plenty imaginable2 and in many parts of it1 show as much pomp and delicacy1 as human wit can invent1 and at the same time be formidable to their neighbours1 and come up to the character of the bees in the fable1 of which ,i said1 that ,flatter'd in peace1 and fear'd in wars1 ,they were th' esteem of foreigners2 ,and lavish of their wealth and lives1 ,the balance of all other hives4 7,see what is farther said concerning luxury in the ,remarks on line #ahb and #cjg47 ,line #ahb4 ,and odious pride a million more4 ,pride is that natural faculty by which every mortal that has any understanding over-values1 and imagines better things of himself than any impartial judge1 thoroughly acquainted with all his qualities and circumstances1 could allow him4 ,we are possessed of no other quality so beneficial to society1 and so necessary to render it wealthy and flourishing as this1 yet it is that which is most generally detested4 ,what is very peculiar to this faculty of ours1 is1 that those who are the fullest of it1 are the least willing to connive at it in others2 whereas the heinousness of other vices is the most extenuated by those who are guilty of them themselves4 ,the chaste man hates fornication1 and drunkenness is most abhorred by the temperate2 but none are so much offended at their neighbour's pride1 as the proudest of all2 and if any one can pardon it1 it is the most humble3 from which1 ,i think1 we may justly infer1 that it being odious to all the world1 is a certain sign that all the world is troubled with it4 ,this all men of sense are ready to confess1 and nobody denies but that he has pride in general4 ,but1 if you come to particulars1 you will meet with few that will own any action you can name of theirs to have proceeded from that principle4 ,there are likewise many who will allow1 that among the sinful nations of the times1 pride and luxury are the great promoters of trade1 but they refuse to own the necessity there is1 that in a more virtuous age 7such a one as should be free from pride71 trade would in a great measure decay4 ,the ,almighty1 they say1 has endowed us with the dominion over all things which the earth and sea produce or contain2 there is nothing to be found in either1 but what was made for the use of man2 and his skill and industry above other animals were given him1 that he might render both them and every thing else within the reach of his senses1 more serviceable to him4 ,upon this consideration they think it impious to imagine1 that humility1 temperance1 and other virtues should debar people from the enjoyment of those comforts of life1 which are not denied to the most wicked nations2 and so conclude1 that without pride or luxury1 the same things might be eat1 wore1 and consumed2 the same number of handicrafts and artificers employed1 and a nation be every way as flourishing as where those vices are the most predominant4 ,as to wearing apparel in particular1 they will tell you1 that pride1 which sticks much nearer to us than our clothes1 is only lodged in the heart1 and that rags often conceal a greater portion of it than the most pompous attire2 and that as it cannot be denied but that there have always been virtuous princes1 who1 with humble hearts1 have wore their splendid diadems1 and swayed their envied sceptres1 void of ambition1 for the good of others2 so it is very probable1 that silver and gold brocades1 and the richest embroideries may1 without a thought of pride1 be wore by many whose quality and fortune are suitable to them4 ,may not 7say they7 a good man of extraordinary revenues1 make every year a greater variety of suits than it is possible he should wear out1 and yet have no other ends than to set the poor at work1 to encourage trade1 and by employing many1 to promote the welfare of his country8 ,and considering food and raiment to be necessaries1 and the two chief articles to which all our worldly cares are extended1 why may not all mankind set aside a considerable part of their income for the one as well as the other1 without the least tincture of pride8 ,nay1 is not every member of the society in a manner obliged1 according to his ability1 to contribute toward the maintenance of that branch of trade on which the whole has so great a dependence8 ,besides that1 to appear decently is a civility1 and often a duty1 which1 without any regard to ourselves1 we owe to those we converse with4 ,these are the objections generally made use of by haughty moralists1 who cannot endure to hear the dignity of their species arraigned2 but if we look narrowly into them1 they may soon be answered4 ,if we had vices1 ,i cannot see why any man should ever make more suits than he has occasion for1 though he was never so desirous of promoting the good of the nation3 for1 though in the wearing of a well-wrought silk1 rather than a slight stuff1 and the preferring curious fine cloth to coarse1 he had no other view but the setting of more people to work1 and consequently the public welfare1 yet he could consider clothes no otherwise than lovers of their country do taxes now2 they may pay them with alacrity1 but nobody gives more than his due2 especially where all are justly rated according to their abilities1 as it could no otherwise be expected in a very virtuous age4 ,besides1 that in such golden times nobody would dress above his condition1 nobody pinch his family1 cheat or over reach his neighbour to purchase finery1 and consequently there would not be half the consumption1 nor a third part of the people employed as now there are4 ,but1 to make this more plain1 and demonstrate1 that for the support of trade there can be nothing equivalent to pride1 ,i shall examine the several views men have in outward apparel1 and set forth what daily experience may teach every body as to dress4 ,clothes were originally made for two ends1 to hide our nakedness1 and to fence our bodies against the weather1 and other outward injuries3 to these our boundless pride has added a third1 which is ornament2 for what else but an excess of stupid vanity1 could have prevailed upon our reason to fancy that ornamental1 which must continually put us in mind of our wants and misery1 beyond all other animals that are ready clothed by nature herself8 ,it is indeed to be admired how so sensible a creature as man1 that pretends to so many fine qualities of his own1 should condescend to value himself upon what is robbed from so innocent and defenceless an animal as a sheep1 or what he is beholden for to the most insignificant thing upon earth1 a dying worm2 yet while he is proud of such trifling depredations1 he has the folly to laugh at the ,hottentots on the furthest promontory of ,afric1 who adorn themselves with the guts of their dead enemies1 without considering that they are the ensigns of their valour those barbarians are fine with1 the true spolia opima1 and that if their pride be more savage than ours1 it is certainly less ridiculous1 because they wear the spoils of the more noble animal4 ,but whatever reflections may be made on this head1 the world has long since decided the matter2 handsome apparel is a main point1 fine feathers make fine birds1 and people1 where they are not known1 are generally honoured according to their clothes and other accoutrements they have about them2 from the richness of them we judge of their wealth1 and by their ordering of them we guess at their understanding4 ,it is this which encourages every body1 who is conscious of his little merit1 if he is any ways able to wear clothes above his rank1 especially in large and populous cities1 where obscure men may hourly meet with fifty strangers to one acquaintance1 and consequently have the pleasure of being esteemed by a vast majority1 not as what they are1 but what they appear to be3 which is a greater temptation than most people want to be vain4 ,whoever takes delight in viewing the various scenes of low life1 may1 on ,easter1 ,whitsun1 and other great holidays1 meet with scores of people1 especially women1 of almost the lowest rank1 that wear good and fashionable clothes3 if coming to talk with them1 you treat them more courteously and with greater respect than what they are conscious they deserve1 they will commonly be ashamed of owning what they are2 and often you may1 if you are a little inquisitive1 discover in them a most anxious care to conceal the business they follow1 and the place they live in4 ,the reason is plain2 while they receive those civilities that are not usually paid them1 and which they think only due to their betters1 they have the satisfaction to imagine1 that they appear what they would be1 which1 to weak minds1 is a pleasure almost as substantial as they could reap from the very accomplishments of their wishes3 this golden dream they are unwilling to be disturbed in1 and being sure that the meanness of their condition1 if it is known1 must sink them very low in your opinion1 they hug themselves in their disguise1 and take all imaginable precaution not to forfeit1 by a useless discovery1 the esteem which they flatter themselves that their good clothes have drawn from you4 ,though every body allows1 that as to apparel and manner of living1 we ought to behave ourselves suitable to our conditions1 and follow the examples of the most sensible1 and prudent among our equals in rank and fortune3 yet how few1 that are not either miserably covetous1 or else proud of singularity1 have this discretion to boast of8 ,we all look above ourselves1 and1 as fast as we can1 strive to imitate those that some way or other are superior to us4 ,the poorest labourer's wife in the parish1 who scorns to wear a strong wholesome frize1 as she might1 will half starve herself and her husband to purchase a second-hand gown and petticoat1 that cannot do her half the service2 because1 forsooth1 it is more genteel4 ,the weaver1 the shoemaker1 the tailor1 the barber1 and every mean working fellow1 that can set up with little1 has the impudence1 with the first money he gets1 to dress himself like a tradesman of substance3 the ordinary retailer in the clothing of his wife1 takes pattern from his neighbour1 that deals in the same commodity by wholesale1 and the reason he gives for it is1 that twelve years ago the other had not a bigger shop than himself4 ,the druggist1 mercer1 draper1 and other creditable shopkeepers1 can find no difference between themselves and merchants1 and therefore dress and live like them4 ,the merchant's lady1 who cannot bear the assurance of those mechanics1 flies for refuge to the other end of the town1 and scorns to follow any fashion but what she takes from thence2 this haughtiness alarms the court1 the women of quality are frightened to see merchants wives and daughters dressed like themselves3 this impudence of the city1 they cry1 is intolerable2 mantua-makers are sent for1 and the contrivance of fashions becomes all their study1 that they may have always new modes ready to take up1 as soon as those saucy cits shall begin to imitate those in being4 ,the same emulation is continued through the several degrees of quality1 to an incredible expence1 till at last the prince's great favourites and those of the first rank of all1 having nothing left to outstrip some of their inferiors1 are forced to lay out vast estates in pompous equipages1 magnificent furniture1 sumptuous gardens1 and princely palaces4 ,to this emulation and continual striving to out-do one another it is owing1 that after so many various shiftings and changes of modes1 in trumping up new ones1 and renewing of old ones1 there is still a plus ultra left for the ingenious2 it is this1 or at least the consequence of it1 that sets the poor to work1 adds spurs to industry1 and encourages the skilful artificer to search after further improvements4 ,it may be objected1 that many people of good fashion1 who have been used to be well dressed1 out of custom1 wear rich clothes with all the indifferency imaginable1 and that the benefit to trade accruing from them cannot be ascribed to emulation or pride4 ,to this ,i answer1 that it is impossible1 that those who trouble their heads so little with their dress1 could ever have wore those rich clothes1 if both the stuffs and fashions had not been first invented to gratify the vanity of others1 who took greater delight in fine apparel1 than they2 besides that every body is not without pride that appears to be so2 all the symptoms of that vice are not easily discovered2 they are manifold1 and vary according to the age1 humour1 circumstances1 and often constitution of the people4 ,the choleric city captain seems impatient to come to action1 and expressing his warlike genius by the firmness of his steps1 makes his pike1 for want of enemies1 tremble at the valour of his arm3 his martial finery1 as he marches along1 inspires him with an unusual elevation of mind1 by which1 endeavouring to forget his shop as well as himself1 he looks up at the balconies with the fierceness of a ,saracen conqueror3 while the phlegmatic alderman1 now become venerable both for his age and his authority1 contents himself with being thought a considerable man2 and knowing no easier way to express his vanity1 looks big in his coach1 where being known by his paultry livery1 he receives1 in sullen state1 the homage that is paid him by the meaner sort of people4 ,the beardless ensign counterfeits a gravity above his years1 and with ridiculous assurance strives to imitate the stern countenance of his colonel1 flattering himself1 all the while1 that by his daring mien you will judge of his prowess4 ,the youthful fair1 in a vast concern of being overlooked1 by the continual changing of her posture1 betrays a violent desire of being observed1 and catching1 as it were1 at every body's eyes1 courts with obliging looks the admiration of her beholders4 ,the conceited coxcomb1 on the contrary1 displaying an air of sufficiency1 is wholly taken up with the contemplation of his own perfections1 and in public places discovers such a disregard to others1 that the ignorant must imagine1 he thinks himself to be alone4 ,these1 and such like1 are all manifest1 though different tokens of pride1 that are obvious to all the world2 but man's vanity is not always so soon found out4 ,when we perceive an air of humanity1 and men seem not to be employed in admiring themselves1 nor altogether unmindful of others1 we are apt to pronounce them void of pride1 when1 perhaps1 they are only fatigued with gratifying their vanity1 and become languid from a satiety of enjoyments4 ,that outward show of peace within1 and drowsy composure of careless negligence1 with which a great man is often seen in his plain chariot to loll at ease1 are not always so free from art1 as they may seem to be4 ,nothing is more ravishing to the proud1 than to be thought happy4 ,the well-bred gentleman places his greatest pride in the skill he has of covering it with dexterity1 and some are so expert in concealing this frailty1 that when they are the most guilty of it1 the vulgar think them the most exempt from it4 ,thus the dissembling courtier1 when he appears in state1 assumes an air of modesty and good humour2 and while he is ready to burst with vanity1 seems to be wholly ignorant of his greatness2 well knowing1 that those lovely qualities must heighten him in the esteem of others1 and be an addition to that grandeur1 which the coronets about his coach and harnesses1 with the rest of his equipage1 cannot fail to proclaim without his assistance4 ,and as in these1 pride is overlooked1 because industriously concealed1 so in others again1 it is denied that they have any1 when they show 7or at least seem to show7 it in the most public manner4 ,the wealthy parson being1 as well as the rest of his profession1 debarred from the gaiety of laymen1 makes it his business to look out for an admirable black1 and the finest cloth that money can purchase1 and distinguishes himself by the fullness of his noble and spotless garment2 his wigs are as fashionable as that form he is forced to comply with will admit of2 but as he is only stinted in their shape1 so he takes care that for goodness of hair1 and colour1 few noblemen shall be able to match him2 his body is ever clean1 as well as his clothes1 his sleek face is kept constantly shaved1 and his handsome nails are diligently pared2 his smooth white hand1 and a brilliant of the first water1 mutually becoming1 honour each other with double graces2 what linen he discovers is transparently curious1 and he scorns ever to be seen abroad with a worse beaver than what a rich banker would be proud of on his wedding-day2 to all these niceties in dress he adds a majestic gait1 and expresses a commanding loftiness in his carriage2 yet common civility1 notwithstanding1 the evidence of so many concurring symptoms1 will not allow us to suspect any of his actions to be the result of pride3 considering the dignity of his office1 it is only decency in him1 what would be vanity in others2 and in good manners to his calling we ought to believe1 that the worthy gentleman1 without any regard to his reverend person1 puts himself to all this trouble and expence1 merely out of a respect which is due to the divine order he belongs to1 and a religious zeal to preserve his holy function from the contempt of scoffers4 ,with all my heart2 nothing of all this shall be called pride1 let me only be allowed to say1 that to our human capacities it looks very like it4 ,but if at last ,i should grant1 that there are men who enjoy all the fineries of equipage and furniture1 as well as clothes1 and yet have no pride in them2 it is certain1 that if all should be such1 that emulation ,i spoke of before must cease1 and consequently trade1 which has so great a dependence upon it1 suffer in every branch4 ,for to say1 that if all men were truly virtuous1 they might1 without any regard to themselves1 consume as much out of zeal to serve their neighbours and promote the public good1 as they do now out of self-love and emulation1 is a miserable shift1 and an unreasonable supposition4 ,as there have been good people in all ages1 so1 without doubt1 we are not destitute of them in this2 but let us inquire of the periwig-makers and tailors1 in what gentlemen1 even of the greatest wealth and highest quality1 they ever could discover such public-spirited views4 ,ask the lacemen1 the mercers1 and the linen-drapers1 whether the richest1 and if you will1 the most virtuous ladies1 if they buy with ready money1 or intend to pay in any reasonable time1 will not drive from shop to shop1 to try the market1 make as many words1 and stand as hard with them to save a groat or sixpence in a yard1 as the most necessitous jilts in town4 ,if it be urged1 that if there are not1 it is possible there might be such people2 ,i answer that it is as possible that cats1 instead of killing rats and mice1 should feed them1 and go about the house to suckle and nurse their young ones2 or that a kite should call the hens to their meat1 as the cock does1 and sit brooding over their chickens instead of devouring them2 but if they should all do so1 they would cease to be cats and kites2 it is inconsistent with their natures1 and the species of creatures which now we mean1 when we name cats and kites1 would be extinct as soon as that could come to pass4 ,line #ahc4 ,envy itself1 and vanity1 ,were ministers of industry4 ,envy is that baseness in our nature1 which makes us grieve and pine at what we conceive to be a happiness in others4 ,i do not believe there is a human creature in his senses arrived to maturity1 that at one time or other has not been carried away by this passion in good earnest2 and yet ,i never met with any one that dared own he was guilty of it1 but in jest4 ,that we are so generally ashamed of this vice1 is owing to that strong habit of hypocrisy1 by the help of which1 we have learned from our cradle to hide even from ourselves the vast extent of self-love1 and all its different branches4 ,it is impossible man should wish better for another than he does for himself1 unless where he supposes an impossibility that himself should attain to those wishes2 and from hence we may easily learn after what manner this passion is raised in us4 ,in order to it1 we are to consider first1 that as well as we think of ourselves1 so ill we think of our neighbour with equal injustice2 and when we apprehend1 that others do or will enjoy what we think they do not deserve1 it afflicts and makes us angry with the cause of that disturbance4 ,secondly1 ,that we are employed in wishing well for ourselves1 every one according to his judgment and inclinations1 and when we observe something we like1 and yet are destitute of1 in the possession of others2 it occasions first sorrow in us for not having the thing we like4 ,this sorrow is incurable1 while we continue our esteem for the thing we want3 but as self-defence is restless1 and never suffers us to leave any means untried how to remove evil from us1 as far and as well as we are able2 experience teaches us1 that nothing in nature more alleviates this sorrow1 than our anger against those who are possessed of what we esteem and want4 ,this latter passion1 therefore1 we cherish and cultivate to save or relieve ourselves1 at least in part1 from the uneasiness we felt from the first4 ,envy1 then1 is a compound of grief and anger2 the degrees of this passion depend chiefly on the nearness or remoteness of the objects1 as to circumstances4 ,if one1 who is forced to walk on foot envies a great man for keeping a coach and six1 it will never be with that violence1 or give him that disturbance which it may to a man1 who keeps a coach himself1 but can only afford to drive with four horses4 ,the symptoms of envy are as various1 and as hard to describe1 as those of the plague2 at some time it appears in one shape1 at others in another quite different4 ,among the fair1 the disease is very common1 and the signs of it very conspicuous in their opinions and censures of one another4 ,in beautiful young women1 you may often discover this faculty to a high degree2 they frequently will hate one another mortally at first sight1 from no other principle than envy2 and you may read this scorn1 and unreasonable aversion1 in their very countenances1 if they have not a great deal of art1 and well learned to dissemble4 ,in the rude and unpolished multitude1 this passion is very bare-faced2 especially when they envy others for the goods of fortune3 ,they rail at their betters1 rip up their faults1 and take pains to misconstrue their most commendable actions3 ,they murmur at ,providence1 and loudly complain1 that the good things of this world are chiefly enjoyed by those who do not deserve them4 ,the grosser sort of them it often affects so violently1 that if they were not withheld by the fear of the laws1 they would go directly and beat those their envy is levelled at1 from no other provocation than what that passion suggests to them4 ,the men of letters1 labouring under this distemper1 discover quite different symptoms4 ,when they envy a person for his parts and erudition1 their chief care is industriously to conceal their frailty1 which generally is attempted by denying and depreciating the good qualities they envy3 ,they carefully peruse his works1 and are displeased with every fine passage they meet with2 they look for nothing but his errors1 and wish for no greater feast than a gross mistake3 ,in their censures they are captious1 as well as severe1 make mountains of mole-hills1 and will not pardon the least shadow of a fault1 but exaggerate the most trifling omission into a capital blunder4 ,envy is visible in brute-beasts2 horses show it in their endeavours of outstripping one another2 and the best spirited will run themselves to death1 before they will suffer another before them4 ,in dogs1 this passion is likewise plainly to be seen1 those who are used to be caressed will never tamely bear that felicity in others4 ,i have seen a lap-dog that would choke himself with victuals1 rather than leave any thing for a competitor of his own kind2 and we may often observe the same behaviour in those creatures which we daily see in infants that are froward1 and by being over-fondled made humoursome4 ,if out of caprice they at any time refuse to eat what they have asked for1 and we can but make them believe that some body else1 nay1 even the cat or the dog is going to take it from them1 they will make an end of their oughts with pleasure1 and feed even against their appetite4 ,if envy was not rivetted in human nature1 it would not be so common in children1 and youth would not be so generally spurred on by emulation4 ,those who would derive every thing that is beneficial to the society from a good principle1 ascribe the effects of emulation in school-boys to a virtue of the mind2 as it requires labour and pains1 so it is evident1 that they commit a self-denial1 who act from that disposition2 but if we look narrowly into it1 we shall find1 that this sacrifice of ease and pleasure is only made to envy1 and the love of glory4 ,if there was not something very like this passion1 mixed with that pretended virtue1 it would be impossible to raise and increase it by the same means that create envy4 ,the boy1 who receives a reward for the superiority of his performance1 is conscious of the vexation it would have been to him1 if he should have fallen short of it3 ,this reflection makes him exert himself1 not to be outdone by those whom he looks upon as his inferiors1 and the greater his pride is1 the more self-denial he will practise to maintain his conquest4 ,the other1 who1 in spite of the pains he took to do well1 has missed of the prize1 is sorry1 and consequently angry with him whom he must look upon as the cause of his grief3 ,but to show this anger1 would be ridiculous1 and of no service to him1 so that he must either be contented to be less esteemed than the other boy2 or1 by renewing his endeavours1 become a greater proficient3 and it is ten to one1 but the disinterested1 good-humoured1 and peaceable lad1 will choose the first1 and so become indolent and inactive1 while the covetous1 peevish1 and quarrelsome rascal1 shall take incredible pains1 and make himself a conqueror in his turn4 ,envy1 as it is very common among painters1 so it is of great use for their improvement3 ,i do not mean1 that little dawbers envy great masters1 but most of them are tainted with this vice against those immediately above them4 ,if the pupil of a famous artist is of a bright genius1 and uncommon application1 he first adores his master2 but as his own skill increases1 he begins insensibly to envy what he admired before4 ,to learn the nature of this passion1 and that it consists in what ,i have named1 we are but to observe1 that1 if a painter1 by exerting himself1 comes not only to equal1 but to exceed the man he envied1 his sorrow is gone1 and all his anger disarmed2 and if he hated him before1 he is now glad to be friends with him1 if the other will condescend to it4 ,married women1 who are guilty of this vice1 which few are not1 are always endeavouring to raise the same passion in their spouses2 and where they have prevailed1 envy and emulation have kept more men in bounds1 and reformed more ill husbands from sloth1 from drinking1 and other evil courses1 than all the sermons that have been preached since the time of the ,apostles4 ,as every body would be happy1 enjoy pleasure1 and1 avoid pain1 if he could1 so self-love bids us look on every creature that seems satisfied1 as a rival in happiness2 and the satisfaction we have in seeing that felicity disturbed1 without any advantage to ourselves1 but what springs from the pleasure we have in beholding it1 is called loving mischief for mischief's sake2 and the motive of which that frailty is the result1 malice1 another offspring derived from the same original2 for if there was no envy1 there could be no malice4 ,when the passions lie dormant1 we have no apprehension of them1 and often people think they have not such a frailty in their nature1 because that moment they are not affected with it4 ,a gentleman well dressed1 who happens to be dirtied all over by a coach or a cart1 is laughed at1 and by his inferiors much more than his equals1 because they envy him more3 they know he is vexed at it1 and1 imagining him to be happier than themselves1 they are glad to see him meet with displeasures in his turn6 ,but a young lady1 if she be in a serious mood1 instead of laughing at1 pities him1 because a clean man is a sight she takes delight in1 and there is no room for envy4 ,at disasters1 we either laugh1 or pity those that befal them1 according to the stock we are possessed of either malice or compassion4 ,if a man falls or hurts himself so slightly1 that it moves not the latter1 we laugh1 and here our pity and malice shake us alternately3 ,indeed1 ,sir1 ,i am very sorry for it1 ,i beg your pardon for laughing1 ,i am the silliest creature in the world1 then laugh again2 and again1 ,i am indeed very sorry1 and so on4 ,some are so malicious1 they would laugh if a man broke his leg1 and others are so compassionate1 that they can heartily pity a man for the least spot in his clothes2 but nobody is so savage that no compassion can touch him1 nor any man so good-natured1 as never to be affected with any malicious pleasure4 ,how strangely our passions govern us6 ,we envy a man for being rich1 and then perfectly hate him3 ,but if we come to be his equals1 we are calm1 and the least condescension in him makes us friends2 but if we become visibly superior to him1 we can pity his misfortunes4 ,the reason why men of true good sense envy less than others1 is because they admire themselves with less hesitation than fools and silly people2 for1 though they do not show this to others1 yet the solidity of their thinking gives them an assurance of their real worth1 which men of weak understanding can never feel within1 though they often counterfeit it4 ,the ostracism of the ,greeks was a sacrifice of valuable men made to epidemic envy1 and often applied as an infallible remedy to cure and prevent the mischiefs of popular spleen and rancour4 ,a victim of state often appeases the murmurs of a whole nation1 and after-ages frequently wonder at barbarities of this nature1 which1 under the same circumstances1 they would have committed themselves4 ,they are compliments to the people's malice1 which is never better gratified1 than when they can see a great man humbled4 ,we believe that we love justice1 and to see merit rewarded2 but if men continue long in the first posts of honour1 half of us grow weary of them1 look for their faults1 and1 if we can find none1 we suppose they hide them1 and it is much if the greatest part of us do not wish them discarded4 ,this foul play1 the best of men ought ever to apprehend from all who are not their immediate friends or acquaintance1 because nothing is more tiresome to us1 than the repetition of praises we have no manner of share in4 ,the more a passion is a compound of many others1 the more difficult it is to define it2 and the more it is tormenting to those that labour under it1 the greater cruelty it is capable of inspiring them with against others3 ,therefore nothing is more whimsical or mischievous than jealousy1 which is made up of love1 hope1 fear1 and a great deal of envy3 ,the last has been sufficiently treated of already2 and what ,i have to say of fear1 the reader will find under ,remark on l4 #cba4 ,so that the better to explain and illustrate this odd mixture1 the ingredients ,i shall further speak of in this place1 are hope and love4 ,hoping is wishing with some degree of confidence1 that the thing wished for will come to pass4 ,the firmness and imbecility of our hope depend entirely on the greater or lesser degree of our confidence1 and all hope includes doubt2 for when our confidence is arrived to that height1 as to exclude all doubts1 it becomes a certainty1 and we take for granted what we only hoped for before4 ,a silver inkhorn may pass in speech1 because every body knows what we mean by it1 but a certain hope cannot3 ,for a man who makes use of an epithet that destroys the essence of the substantive he joins it to1 can have no meaning at all2 and the more clearly we understand the force of the epithet1 and the nature of the substantive1 the more palpable is the nonsense of the heterogeneous compound4 ,the reason1 therefore1 why it is not so shocking to some to hear a man speak of certain hope1 as if he should talk of hot ice1 or liquid oak1 is not because there is less nonsense contained in the first1 than there is in either of the latter2 but because the word hope1 ,i mean the essence of it1 is not so clearly understood by the generality of the people1 as the words and essence of ice and oak are4 ,love1 in the first place1 signifies affection1 such as parents and nurses bear to children1 and friends to one another2 it consists in a liking and well-wishing to the person beloved4 ,we give an easy construction to his words and actions1 and feel a proneness to excuse and forgive his faults1 if we see any2 his interest we make on all accounts our own1 even to our prejudice1 and receive an inward satisfaction for sympathising with him in his sorrows1 as well as joys4 ,what ,i said last is not impossible1 whatever it may seem to be2 for1 when we are sincere in sharing with one another in his misfortunes1 self-love makes us believe1 that the sufferings we feel must alleviate and lessen those of our friend2 and while this fond reflection is soothing our pain1 a secret pleasure arises from our grieving for the person we love4 ,secondly1 by love we understand a strong inclination1 in its nature distinct from all other affections of friendship1 gratitude1 and consanguinity1 that persons of different sexes1 after liking1 bear to one another3 it is in this signification1 that love enters into the compound of jealousy1 and is the effect as well as happy disguise of that passion that prompts us to labour for the preservation of our species4 ,this latter appetite is innate both in men and women1 who are not defective in their formation1 as much as hunger or thirst1 though they are seldom affected with it before the years of puberty4 ,could we undress nature1 and pry into her deepest recesses1 we should discover the seeds of this passion before it exerts itself1 as plainly as we see the teeth in an embryo1 before the gums are formed4 ,there are few healthy people of either sex1 whom it has made no impression on before twenty3 yet1 as the peace and happiness of the civil society require that this should be kept a secret1 never to be talked of in public2 so1 among well-bred people1 it is counted highly criminal to mention1 before company1 any thing in plain words1 that is1 relating to this mystery of succession3 by which means1 the very name of the appetite1 though the most necessary for the continuance of mankind1 is become odious1 and the proper epithets commonly joined to lust1 are filthy and abominable4 ,this impulse of nature in people of strict morals1 and rigid modesty1 often disturbs the body for a considerable time before it is understood or known to be what it is1 and it is remarkable1 that the most polished1 and best instructed1 are generally the most ignorant as to this affair2 and here ,i can but observe the difference between man in the wild state of nature1 and the same creature in the civil society4 ,in the first1 men and women1 if left rude and untaught in the sciences of modes and manners1 would quickly find out the cause of that disturbance1 and be at a loss no more than other animals for a present remedy3 besides1 that it is not probable they would want either precept or example from the more experienced4 ,but1 in the second1 where the rules of religion1 law1 and decency1 are to be followed1 and obeyed1 before any dictates of nature1 the youth of both sexes are to be armed and fortified against this impulse1 and from their infancy artfully frightened from the most remote approaches of it4 ,the appetite itself1 and all the symptoms of it1 though they are plainly felt and understood1 are to be stifled with care and severity1 and1 in women1 flatly disowned1 and if there be occasion1 with obstinacy denied1 even when themselves are affected by them4 ,if it throws them into distempers1 they must be cured by physic1 or else patiently bear them in silence2 and it is the interest of the society to preserve decency and politeness2 that women should linger1 waste1 and die1 rather than relieve themselves in an unlawful manner2 and among the fashionable part of mankind1 the people of birth and fortune1 it is expected that matrimony should never be entered upon without a curious regard to family1 estate1 and reputation1 and1 in the making of matches1 the call of nature be the very last consideration4 ,those1 then1 who would make love and lust synonymous1 confound the effect with the cause of it3 yet such is the force of education1 and a habit of thinking1 as we are taught1 that sometimes persons of either sex are actually in love without feeling any carnal desires1 or penetrating into the intentions of nature1 the end proposed by her1 without which they could never have been affected with that sort of passion4 ,that there are such is certain1 but many more whose pretences to those refined notions are only upheld by art and dissimulation4 ,those1 who are really such ,platonic lovers1 are commonly the pale-faced weakly people1 of cold and phlegmatic constitutions in either sex2 the hale and robust1 of bilious temperament1 and a sanguine complexion1 never entertain any love so spiritual as to exclude all thoughts and wishes that relate to the body2 but if the most seraphic lovers would know the original of their inclination1 let them but suppose that another should have the corporal enjoyment of the person beloved1 and by the tortures they will suffer from that reflection they will soon discover the nature of their passions3 whereas1 on the contrary1 parents and friends receive a satisfaction in reflecting on the joys and comforts of a happy marriage1 to be tasted by those they wish well to4 ,the curious1 that are skilled in anatomizing the invisible part of man1 will observe that the more sublime and exempt this love is from all thoughts of sensuality1 the more spurious it is1 and the more it degenerates from its honest original and primitive simplicity4 ,the power and sagacity as well as labour and care of the politician in civilizing the society1 has been no where more conspicuous1 than in the happy contrivance of playing our passions against one another4 ,by flattering our pride1 and still increasing the good opinion we have of ourselves on the one hand1 and inspiring us on the other with a superlative dread and mortal aversion against shame1 the artful moralists have taught us cheerfully to encounter ourselves1 and if not subdue1 at least1 so to conceal and disguise our darling passion1 lust1 that we scarce know it when we meet with it in our breasts3 ,oh6 the mighty prize we have in view for all our self-denial6 can any man be so serious as to abstain from laughter1 when he considers1 that for so much deceit and insincerity practiced upon ourselves as well as others1 we have no other recompense than the vain satisfaction of making our species appear more exalted and remote from that of other animals1 than it really is2 and we1 in our consciences1 know it to be8 yet this is fact1 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 kind2 and why tamely to submit to the violence of a furious appetite 7which is painful to resist7 and innocently to obey the most pressing demand of nature without guile or hypocrisy1 like other creatures1 should be branded with the ignominious name of brutality4 ,what we call love1 then1 is not a genuine1 but an adulterated appetite1 or rather a compound1 a heap of several contradictory passions blended in one4 ,as it is a product of nature warped by custom and education1 so the true origin and first motive of it1 as ,i have hinted already1 is stifled in well-bred people1 and concealed from themselves3 all which is the reason1 that1 as those affected with it1 vary in age1 strength1 resolution1 temper1 circumstances1 and manners1 the effects of it are so different1 whimsical1 surprising1 and unaccountable4 ,it is this passion that makes jealousy so troublesome1 and the envy of it often so fatal3 those who imagine that there may be jealousy without love1 do not understand that passion4 ,men may not have the least affection for their wives1 and yet be angry with them for their conduct1 and suspicious of them either with or without a cause3 but what in such cases affects them is their pride1 the concern for their reputation4 ,they feel a hatred against them without remorse2 when they are outrageous1 they can beat them and go to sleep contentedly3 such husbands may watch their dames themselves1 and have them observed by others2 but their vigilance is not so intense2 they are not so inquisitive or industrious in their searches1 neither do they feel that anxiety of heart at the fear of a discovery1 as when love is mixed with the passions4 ,what confirms me in this opinion is1 that we never observe this behaviour between a man and his mistress2 for when his love is gone and he suspects her to be false1 he leaves her1 and troubles his head no more about her3 whereas1 it is the greatest difficulty imaginable1 even to a man of sense1 to part with his mistress as long as he loves her1 whatever faults she may be guilty of4 ,if in his anger he strikes her1 he is uneasy after it2 his love makes him reflect on the hurt he has done her1 and he wants to be reconciled to her again4 ,he may talk of hating her1 and many times from his heart wish her hanged1 but if he cannot get entirely rid of his frailty1 he can never disentangle himself from her3 though she is represented in the most monstrous guilt to his imagination1 and he has resolved and swore a thousand times never to come near her again1 there is no trusting him1 even when he is fully convinced of her infidelity1 if his love continues1 his despair is never so lasting1 but between the blackest fits of it he relents1 and finds lucid intervals of hope2 he forms excuses for her1 thinks of pardoning1 and in order to it racks his invention for possibilities that may make her appear less criminal4 ,line #bjj4 ,real pleasures1 comforts1 ease4 ,that the highest good consisted in pleasure1 was the doctrine of ,epicurus1 who yet led a life exemplary for continence1 sobriety1 and other virtues1 which made people of the succeeding ages quarrel about the signification of pleasure4 ,those who argued from the temperance of the philosopher1 said1 ,that the delight ,epicurus meant1 was being virtuous2 so ,erasmus in his ,colloquies tells us1 that there are no greater ,epicures than pious ,christians4 ,others that reflected on the dissolute manners of the greatest part of his followers1 would have it1 that by pleasures he could have understood nothing but sensual ones1 and the gratification of our passions4 ,i shall not decide their quarrel1 but am of opinion1 that whether men be good or bad1 what they take delight in is their pleasure2 and not to look out for any further etymology from the learned languages1 ,i believe an ,englishman may justly call everything a pleasure that pleases him1 and according to this definition1 we ought to dispute no more about men's pleasures than their tastes3 ,trahit sua quemque voluptas4 ,the worldly-minded1 voluptuous1 and ambitious man1 notwithstanding he is void of merit1 covets precedence every where1 and desires to be dignified above his betters3 he aims at spacious palaces1 and delicious gardens2 his chief delight is in excelling others in stately horses1 magnificent coaches1 a numerous attendance1 and dear-bought furniture4 ,to gratify his lust1 he wishes for genteel1 young1 beautiful women of different charms and complexions1 that shall adore his greatness1 and be really in love with his person3 his cellars he would have stored with the flower of every country that produces excellent wines3 his tables he desires may be served with many courses1 and each of them contain a choice variety of dainties not easily purchased1 and ample evidences of elaborate and judicious cookery2 while harmonious music1 and well-couched flattery1 entertain his hearing by turns4 ,he employs even in the meanest trifles1 none but the ablest and most ingenious workmen1 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 value4 ,he desires to have several sets of witty1 facetious1 and polite people to converse with1 and among them he would have some famous for learning and universal knowledge3 for his serious affairs1 he wishes to find men of parts and experience1 that should be diligent and faithful4 ,those that are to wait on him he would have handy1 mannerly1 and discreet1 of comely aspect1 and a graceful mien3 what he requires in them besides1 is a respectful care of every thing that is his1 nimbleness without hurry1 dispatch without noise1 and an unlimited obedience to his orders3 nothing he thinks more troublesome than speaking to servants2 wherefore he will only be attended by such1 as by observing his looks have learned to interpret his will from the slightest motions4 ,he loves to see an elegant nicety in every thing that approaches him1 and in what is to be employed about his person1 he desires a superlative cleanliness to be religiously observed4 ,the chief officers of his household he would have to be men of birth1 honour and distinction1 as well as order1 contrivance1 and economy2 for though he loves to be honoured by every body1 and receives the respects of the common people with joy1 yet the homage that is paid him by persons of quality is ravishing to him in a more transcendent manner4 ,while thus wallowing in a sea of lust and vanity1 he is wholly employed in provoking and indulging his appetites1 he desires the world should think him altogether free from pride and sensuality1 and put a favourable construction upon his most glaring vices3 nay1 if his authority can purchase it1 he covets to be thought wise1 brave1 generous1 good-natured1 and endued with the virtues he thinks worth having4 ,he would have us believe that the pomp and luxury he is served with are as many tiresome plagues to him2 and all the grandeur he appears in is an ungrateful burden1 which1 to his sorrow1 is inseparable from the high sphere he moves in2 that his noble mind1 so much exalted above vulgar capacities1 aims at higher ends1 and cannot relish such worthless enjoyments2 that the highest of his ambition is to promote the public welfare1 and his greatest pleasure to see his country flourish1 and every body in it made happy4 ,these are called real pleasures by the vicious and earthly-minded1 and whoever is able1 either by his skill or fortune1 after this refined manner at once to enjoy the world1 and the good opinion of it1 is counted extremely happy by all the most fashionable part of the people4 ,but1 on the other side1 most of the ancient philosophers and grave moralists1 especially the ,stoics1 would not allow any thing to be a real good that was liable to be taken from them by others4 ,they wisely considered the instability of fortune1 and the favour of princes2 the vanity of honour1 and popular applause2 the precariousness of riches1 and all earthly possessions2 and therefore placed true happiness in the calm serenity of a contented mind1 free from guilt and ambition2 a mind that1 having subdued every sensual appetite1 despises the smiles as well as frowns of fortune1 and taking no delight but in contemplation1 desires nothing but what every body is able to give to himself3 a mind that1 armed with fortitude and resolution1 has learned to sustain the greatest losses without concern1 to endure pain without affliction1 and to bear injuries without resentment4 ,many have owned themselves arrived to this height of self-denial1 and then1 if we may believe them1 they were raised above common mortals1 and their strength extended vastly beyond the pitch of their first nature3 they could behold the anger of threatening tyrants and the most imminent dangers without terror1 and preserved their tranquillity in the midst of torments3 death itself they could meet with intrepidity1 and left the world with no greater reluctance than they had showed fondness at their entrance into it4 ,these among the ancients have always bore the greatest sway2 yet others that were no fools neither1 have exploded those precepts as impracticable1 called their notions romantic1 and endeavoured to prove1 that what these ,stoics asserted of themselves1 exceeded all human force and possibility2 and that therefore the virtues they boasted of could be nothing but haughty pretence1 full of arrogance and hypocrisy2 yet notwithstanding these censures1 the serious part of the world1 and the generality of wise men that have lived ever since to this day1 agree with the ,stoics in the most material points2 as that there can be no true felicity in what depends on things perishable2 that peace within is the greatest blessing1 and no conquest like that of our passions2 that knowledge1 temperance1 fortitude1 humility1 and other embellishments of the mind are the most valuable acquisitions2 that no man can be happy but he that is good3 and that the virtuous are only capable of enjoying real pleasures4 ,i expect to be asked1 why in the fable ,i have called those pleasures real1 that are directly opposite to those which ,i own the wise men of all ages have extolled as the most valuable8 ,my answer is1 because ,i do not call things pleasures which men say are best1 but such as they seem to be most pleased with2 how can ,i believe that a mans chief delight is in the embellishment of the mind1 when ,i see him ever employed about1 and daily pursue the pleasures that are contrary to them8 ,john never cuts any pudding1 but just enough that you cannot say he took none3 this little bit1 after much chomping and chewing1 you see goes down with him like chopped hay2 after that he falls upon the beef with a voracious appetite1 and crams himself up to his throat4 ,is it not provoking1 to hear ,john cry every day that pudding is all his delight1 and that he does not value the beef of a farthing4 ,i could swagger about fortitude and the contempt of riches as much as ,seneca himself1 and would undertake to write twice as much in behalf of poverty as ever he did2 for the tenth part of his estate1 ,i could teach the way to his summum bonum as exactly as ,i know my way home3 ,i could tell people to extricate themselves from all worldly engagements1 and to purify the mind1 they must divest themselves of their passions1 as men take out the furniture when they would clean a room thoroughly2 and ,i am clearly of the opinion1 that the malice and most severe strokes of fortune1 can do no more injury to a mind thus stripped of all fears1 wishes1 and inclinations1 than a blind horse can do in an empty barn4 ,in the theory of all this ,i am very perfect1 but the practice is very difficult2 and if you went about picking my pocket1 offered to take the victuals from before me when ,i am hungry1 or made but the least motion of spitting in my face1 ,i dare not promise how philosophically ,i should behave myself4 ,but that ,i am forced to submit to every caprice of my unruly nature1 you will say1 is no argument1 that others are as little masters of theirs1 and therefore1 ,i am willing to pay adoration to virtue wherever ,i can meet with it1 with a proviso that ,i shall not be obliged to admit any as such1 where ,i can see no self-denial1 or to judge of mens sentiments from their words1 where ,i have their lives before me4 ,i have searched through every degree and station of men1 and confess1 that ,i have found no where more austerity of manners1 or greater contempt of earthly pleasures1 than in some religious houses1 where people freely resigning and retiring from the world to combat themselves1 have no other business but subdue their appetites4 ,what can be a greater evidence of perfect chastity1 and a superlative love1 to immaculate purity in men and women1 than that in the prime of their age1 when lust is most raging1 they should actually seclude themselves from each others company1 and by a voluntary renunciation debar themselves for life1 not only from uncleanness1 but even the most lawful embraces8 those that abstain from flesh1 and often all manner of food1 one would think in the right way1 to conquer all carnal desires2 and ,i could almost swear1 that he does not consult his ease1 who daily mauls his bare back and shoulders with unconscionable stripes1 and constantly roused at night from his sleep1 leaves his bed for his devotion4 ,who can despise riches more1 or show himself less avaricious than he1 who will not so much as touch gold or silver1 no not with his feet8 ,or can any mortal show himself less luxurious or more humble than the man1 that making poverty his choice1 contents himself with scraps and fragments1 and refuses to eat any bread but what is bestowed upon him by the charity of others4 ,such fair instances of self-denial1 would make me bow down to virtue1 if ,i was not deterred and warned from it by so many persons of eminence and learning1 who unanimously tell me that ,i am mistaken1 and all ,i have seen is farce and hypocrisy2 that what seraphic love they may pretend to1 there is nothing but discord among them2 and that how penitential the nuns and friars may appear in their several convents1 they none of them sacrifice their darling lusts3 that among the women1 they are not all virgins that pass for such1 and that if ,i was to be let into their secrets1 and examine some of their subterraneous privacies1 ,i should soon be convinced by scenes of horror1 that some of them must have been mothers4 ,that among the men ,i should find calumny1 envy1 and ill nature1 in the highest degree1 or else gluttony1 drunkenness1 and impurities of a more execrable kind than adultery itself3 and as for the mendicant orders1 that they fer in nothing but their habits from other sturdy beggars1 who deceive people with a pitiful tone1 and an outward show of misery1 and as soon as they are out of sight1 lay by their cant1 indulge their appetites1 and enjoy one another4 ,if the strict rules1 and so many outward signs of devotion observed among those religious orders1 deserve such harsh censures1 we may well despair of meeting with virtue any where else2 for if we look into the actions of the antagonists and greatest accusers of those votaries1 we shall not find so much as the appearance of self-denial4 ,the reverend divines of all sects1 even of the most reformed churches in all countries1 take care with the ,cyclops ,evangeliphorus first2 ut ventri bene sit1 and afterwards1 ne quid desit iis qu sub ventre sunt4 ,to these they will desire you to add convenient houses1 handsome furniture1 good fires in winter1 pleasant gardens in summer1 neat clothes1 and money enough to bring up their children2 precedency in all companies1 respect from every body1 and then as much religion as you please4 ,the things ,i have named are the necessary comforts of life1 which the most modest are not ashamed to claim1 and which they are very uneasy without4 ,they are1 it is true1 made of the same mould1 and have the same corrupt nature with other men1 born with the same infirmities1 subject to the same passions1 and liable to the same temptations1 and therefore if they are diligent in their calling1 and can but abstain from murder1 adultery1 swearing1 drunkenness1 and other heinous vices1 their lives are all called unblemished1 and their reputations unspotted2 their function renders them holy1 and the gratification of so many carnal appetites1 and the enjoyment of so much luxurious ease notwithstanding1 they may set upon themselves what value their pride and parts will allow them4 ,all this ,i have nothing against1 but ,i see no self-denial1 without which there can be no virtue4 ,is it such a mortification not to desire a greater share of worldly blessings1 than what every reasonable man ought to be satisfied with8 ,or1 is there any mighty merit in not being flagitious1 and forbearing indecencies that are repugnant to good manners1 and which no prudent man would be guilty of1 though he had no religion at all8 ,i know ,i shall be told1 that the reason why the clergy are so violent in their resentments1 when at any time they are but in the least affronted1 and show themselves so void of all patience when their rights are invaded1 is their great care to preserve their calling1 their profession from contempt1 not for their own sakes1 but to be more serviceable to others4 ,it is the same reason that makes them solicitous about the comforts and conveniences of life2 for should they suffer themselves to be insulted over1 be content with a coarser diet1 and wear more ordinary clothes than other people1 the multitude1 who judge from outward appearances1 would be apt to think that the clergy was no more the immediate care of ,providence than other folks1 and so not only undervalue their persons1 but despise likewise all the reproofs and instructions that came from them4 ,this is an admirable plea1 and as it is much made use of1 ,i will try the worth of it4 ,i am not of the learned ,dr4 ,echard's opinion1 that poverty is one of those things that bring the clergy into contempt1 any further than as it may be an occasion of discovering their blind side3 for when men are always struggling with their low condition1 and are unable to bear the burden of it without reluctancy1 it is then they show how uneasy their poverty sits upon them1 how glad they would be to have their circumstances meliorated1 and what a real value they have for the good things of this world4 ,he that harangues on the contempt of riches1 and the vanity of earthly enjoyments1 in a rusty threadbare gown1 because he has no other1 and would wear his old greasy hat no longer if any body would give him a better2 that drinks small beer at home with a heavy countenance1 but leaps at a glass of wine if he can catch it abroad2 that with little appetite feeds upon his own coarse mess1 but falls to greedily where he can please his palate1 and expresses an uncommon joy at an invitation to a splendid dinner3 it is he that is despised1 not because he is poor1 but because he knows not how to be so1 with that content and resignation which he preaches to others1 and so discovers his inclinations to be contrary to his doctrine4 ,but1 when a man from the greatness of his soul 7or an obstinate vanity1 which will do as well7 resolving to subdue his appetites in good earnest1 refuses all the offers of ease and luxury that can be made to him1 and embracing a voluntary poverty with cheerfulness1 rejects whatever may gratify the senses1 and actually sacrifices all his passions to his pride1 in acting this part1 the vulgar1 far from contemning1 will be ready to deify and adore him4 ,how famous have the ,cynic philosophers made themselves1 only by refusing to dissimulate and make use of superfluities8 ,did not the most ambitious monarch the world ever bore1 condescend to visit ,diogenes in his tub1 and return to a studied incivility1 the highest compliment a man of his pride was able to make8 ,mankind are very willing to take one another's word1 when they see some circumstances that corroborate what is told them2 but when our actions directly contradict what we say1 it is counted impudence to desire belief4 ,if a jolly hale fellow1 with glowing cheeks and warm hands1 newly returned from some smart exercise1 or else the cold bath1 tells us in frosty weather1 that he cares not for the fire1 we are easily induced to believe him1 especially if he actually turns from it1 and we know by his circumstances1 that he wants neither fuel nor clothes3 but if we should hear the same from the mouth of a poor starved wretch1 with swelled hands1 and a livid countenance1 in a thin ragged garment1 we should not believe a word of what he said1 especially if we saw him shaking and shivering1 creep toward the sunny bank2 and we would conclude1 let him say what he could1 that warm clothes1 and a good fire1 would be very acceptable to him4 ,the application is easy1 and therefore if there be any clergy upon earth that would be thought not to care for the world1 and to value the soul above the body1 let them only forbear showing a greater concern for their sensual pleasures than they generally do for their spiritual ones1 and they may rest satisfied1 that no poverty1 while they bear it with fortitude1 will ever bring them into contempt1 how mean soever their circumstances may be4 ,let us suppose a pastor that has a little flock intrusted to him1 of which he is very careful3 ,he preaches1 visits1 exhorts1 reproves among his people with zeal and prudence1 and does them all the kind offices that lie in his power to make them happy4 ,there is no doubt but those under his care must be very much obliged to him4 ,now1 we shall suppose once more1 that this good man1 by the help of a little self-denial1 is contented to live upon half his income1 accepting only of twenty pounds a-year instead of forty1 which he could claim2 and moreover1 that he loves his parishioners so well1 that he will never leave them for any preferment whatever1 no not a bishoprick1 though it be offered4 ,i cannot see but all this might be an easy task to a man who professes mortification1 and has no value for worldly pleasures2 yet such a disinterested divine1 ,i dare promise1 notwithstanding the degeneracy of mankind1 will be loved1 esteemed1 and have every body's good word2 nay1 ,i would swear1 that though he should yet further exert himself1 give above half of his small revenue to the poor1 live upon nothing but oatmeal and water1 lie upon straw1 and wear the coarsest cloth that could be made1 his mean way of living would never be reflected on1 or be a disparagement either to himself or the order he belonged to2 but that on the contrary his poverty would never be mentioned but to his glory1 as long as his memory should last4 ,but 7says a charitable young gentlewoman7 though you have the heart to starve your parson1 have you no bowels of compassion for his wife and children8 pray what must remain of forty pounds a year1 after it has been twice so unmercifully split8 or would you have the poor woman and the innocent babes likewise live upon oatmeal and water1 and lie upon straw1 you unconscionable wretch1 with all your suppositions and self-denials2 nay1 is it possible1 though they should all live at your own murdering rate1 that less than ten pounds a-year could maintain a family8----,do not be in a passion1 good ,mrs4 ,abigail1 ,i have a greater regard for your sex than to prescribe such a lean diet to married men2 but ,i confess ,i forgot the wives and children3 ,the main reason was1 because ,i thought poor priests could have no occasion for them4 ,who could imagine1 that the parson who is to teach others by example as well as precept1 was not able to withstand those desires which the wicked world itself calls unreasonable8 ,what is the reason when an apprentice marries before he is out of his time1 that unless he meets with a good fortune1 all his relations are angry with him1 and every body blames him8 ,nothing else1 but because at that time he has no money at his disposal1 and being bound to his master's service1 has no leisure1 and perhaps little capacity to provide for a family4 ,what must we say to a parson that has twenty1 or1 if you will1 forty pounds a-year1 that being bound more strictly to all the services a parish and his duty require1 has little time1 and generally much less ability to get any more8 ,is it not very reasonable he should marry8 ,but why should a sober young man1 who is guilty of no vice1 be debarred from lawful enjoyments8 ,right2 marriage is lawful1 and so is a coach2 but what is that to people that have not money enough to keep one8 ,if he must have a wife1 let him look out for money1 or wait for a greater benefice1 or something else to maintain her handsomely1 and bear all incident charges4 ,but nobody that has any thing herself will have him1 and he cannot stay3 ,he has a very good stomach1 and all the symptoms of health2 it is not every body that can live without a woman2 it is better to marry than burn4----,what a world of self-denial is here8 ,the sober young man is very willing to be virtuous1 but you must not cross his inclinations2 he promises never to be a deer-stealer1 upon condition that he shall have venison of his own1 and no body must doubt1 but that if it come to the push1 he is qualified to suffer martyrdom1 though he owns that he has not strength enough1 patiently to bear a scratched finger4 ,when we see so many of the clergy1 to indulge their lust1 a brutish appetite1 run themselves after this manner upon an inevitable poverty1 which1 unless they could bear it with greater fortitude1 than they discover in all their actions1 must of necessity make them contemptible to all the world1 what credit must we give them1 when they pretend that they conform themselves to the world1 not because they take delight in the several decencies1 conveniences1 and ornaments of it1 but only to preserve their function from contempt1 in order to be more useful to others8 ,have we not reason to believe1 that what they say is full of hypocrisy and falsehood1 and that concupiscence is not the only appetite they want to gratify2 that the haughty airs and quick sense of injuries1 the curious elegance in dress1 and niceness of palate1 to be observed in most of them that are able to show them1 are the results of pride and luxury in them1 as they are in other people1 and that the clergy are not possessed of more intrinsic virtue than any other profession8 ,i am afraid1 by this time ,i have given many of my readers a real displeasure1 by dwelling so long upon the reality of pleasure2 but ,i cannot help it1 there is one thing comes into my head to corroborate what ,i have urged already1 which ,i cannot forbear mentioning3 ,it is this3 ,those who govern others throughout the world1 are at least as wise as the people that are governed by them1 generally speaking3 ,if1 for this reason1 we would take pattern from our superiors1 we have but to cast our eyes on all the courts and governments in the universe1 and we shall soon perceive from the actions of the great ones1 which opinion they side with1 and what pleasures those in the highest stations of all seem to be most fond of3 ,for1 if it be allowable at all to judge of people's inclinations1 from their manner of living1 none can be less injured by it1 than those who are the most at liberty to do as they please4 ,if the great ones of the clergy1 as well as the laity of any country whatever1 had no value for earthly pleasures1 and did not endeavour to gratify their appetites1 why are envy and revenge so raging among them1 and all the other passions improved and refined upon in courts of princes more than any where else1 and why are their repasts1 their recreations1 and whole manner of living always such as are approved of1 coveted1 and imitated by the most sensual people of that same country8 ,if despising all visible decorations they were only in love with the embellishments of the mind1 why should they borrow so many of the implements1 and make use of the most darling toys of the luxurious8 ,why should a lord treasurer1 or a bishop1 or even the grand signior1 or the pope of ,rome1 to be good and virtuous1 and endeavour the conquest of his passions1 have occasion for greater revenues1 richer furniture1 or a more numerous attention1 as to personal service1 than a private man8 ,what virtue is it the exercise of which requires so much pomp and superfluity1 as are to be seen by all men in power8 ,a man has as much opportunity to practise temperance1 that has but one dish at a meal1 as he that is constantly served with three courses1 and a dozen dishes in each3 ,one may exercise as much patience1 and be as full of self-denial on a few flocks1 without curtains or tester1 as in a velvet bed that is sixteen foot high4 ,the virtuous possessions of the mind are neither charge nor burden3 ,a man may bear misfortunes with fortitude in a garret1 forgive injuries a-foot1 and be chaste1 though he has not a shirt to his back3 and therefore ,i shall never believe1 but that an indifferent sculler1 if he was intrusted with it1 might carry all the learning and religion that one man can contain1 as well as a barge with six oars1 especially if it was but to cross from ,lambeth to ,westminster2 or that humility is so ponderous a virtue1 that it requires six horses to draw it4 ,to say that men not being so easily governed by their equals as by their superiors1 it is necessary1 that to keep the multitude in awe1 those who rule over us should excel others in outward appearance1 and consequently1 that all in high stations should have badges of honour1 and ensigns of power to be distinguished from the vulgar1 is a frivolous objection4 ,this1 in the first place1 can only be of use to poor princes1 and weak and precarious governments1 that being actually unable to maintain the public peace1 are obliged with a pageant show to make up what they want in real power3 so the governor of ,batavia1 in the ,east ,indies1 is forced to keep up a grandeur1 and live in a magnificence above his quality1 to strike a terror in the natives of ,java1 who1 if they had skill and conduct1 are strong enough to destroy ten times the number of their masters2 but great princes and states that keep large fleets at sea1 and numerous armies in the field1 have no occasion for such stratagems2 for what makes them formidable abroad1 will never fail to be their security at home4 ,secondly1 what must protect the lives and wealth of people from the attempts of wicked men in all societies1 is the severity of the laws1 and diligent administration of impartial justice4 ,theft1 house-breaking1 and murder1 are not to be prevented by the scarlet gowns of the aldermen1 the gold chains of the sheriffs1 the fine trappings of their horses1 or any gaudy show whatever3 ,those pageant ornaments are beneficial another way2 they are eloquent lectures to apprentices1 and the use of them is to animate1 not to deter3 but men of abandoned principles must be awed by rugged officers1 strong prisons1 watchful jailors1 the hangman1 and the gallows4 ,if ,london was to be one week destitute of constables and watchmen to guard the houses a-nights1 half the bankers would be ruined in that time1 and if my lord mayor had nothing to defend himself but his great two handed sword1 the huge cap of maintenance1 and his gilded mace1 he would soon be stripped1 in the very streets to the city1 of all his finery in his stately coach4 ,but let us grant that the eyes of the mobility are to be dazzled with a gaudy outside2 if virtue was the chief delight of great men1 why should their extravagance be extended to things not understood by the mob1 and wholly removed from public view1 ,i mean their private diversions1 the pomp and luxury of the dining-room and the bed-chamber1 and the curiosities of the closet8 few of the vulgar know that there is wine of a guinea the bottle1 that birds1 no bigger than larks1 are often sold for half-a-guinea a-piece1 or that a single picture may be worth several thousand pounds3 besides1 is it to be imagined1 that unless it was to please their own appetites1 men should put themselves to such vast expences for a political show1 and be so solicitous to gain the esteem of those whom they so much despise in every thing else8 if we allow that the splendor and all the elegancy of a court insipid1 and only tiresome to the prince himself1 and are altogether made use of to preserve royal majesty from contempt1 can we say the same of half a dozen illegitimate children1 most of them the offspring of adultery1 by the same majesty1 got1 educated1 and made princes at the expence of the nation6 therefore1 it is evident1 that this awing of the multitude1 by a distinguished manner of living1 is only a cloak and pretence1 under which1 great men would shelter their vanity1 and indulge every appetite about them without reproach4 ,a burgomaster of ,amsterdam1 in his plain black suit1 followed perhaps by one footman1 is fully as much respected1 and better obeyed1 than a lord mayor of ,london1 with all his splendid equipage1 and great train of attendance4 ,where there is a real power1 it is ridiculous to think that any temperance or austerity of life should ever render the person1 in whom that power is lodged1 contemptible in his office1 from an emperor to the beadle of a parish4 ,cato1 in his government of ,spain1 in which he acquitted himself with so much glory1 had only three servants to attend him2 do we hear that any of his orders were ever slighted for this1 notwithstanding that he loved his bottle8 and when that great man marched on foot through the scorching sands of ,libya1 and parched up with thirst1 refused to touch the water that was brought him1 before all his soldiers had drank1 do we ever read that this heroic forbearance weakened his authority1 or lessened him in the esteem of his army8 but what need we go so far off8 there has not1 for these many ages1 been a prince less inclined to pomp and luxury than the #b present king of ,sweden1 who1 enamoured with the title of hero1 has not only sacrificed the lives of his subjects1 and welfare of his dominions1 but 7what is more uncommon in sovereigns7 his own ease1 and all the comforts of life1 to an implacable spirit of revenge2 yet he is obeyed to the ruin of his people1 in obstinately maintaining a war that has almost utterly destroyed his kingdom4 ,thus ,i have proved1 that the real pleasures of all men in nature are worldly and sensual1 if we judge from their practice2 ,i say all men in nature1 because devout ,christians1 who alone are to be excepted here1 being regenerated1 and preternaturally assisted by the ,divine grace1 cannot be said to be in nature4 ,how strange it is1 that they should all so unanimously deny it6 ask not only the divines and moralists of every nation1 but likewise all that are rich and powerful1 about real pleasure1 and they will tell you1 with the ,stoics1 that there can be no true felicity in things mundane and corruptible3 but then look upon their lives1 and you will find they take delight in no other4 ,what must we do in this dilemma8 shall we be so uncharitable1 as judging from mens actions1 to say1 that all the world prevaricates1 and that this is not their opinion1 let them talk what they will8 or shall we be so silly1 as relying on what they say1 to think them sincere in their sentiments1 and so not believe our own eyes8 or shall we rather endeavour to believe ourselves and them too1 and say with ,montaigne1 that they imagine1 and are fully persuaded1 that they believe what they do not believe8 these are his words3 some impose on the world1 and would be thought to believe what they really do not3 but much the greater number impose upon themselves1 not considering1 nor thoroughly apprehending what it is to believe4 ,but this is making all mankind either fools or impostors1 which1 to avoid1 there is nothing left us1 but to say what ,mr4 ,bayle has endeavoured to prove at large in his ,reflections on ,comets3 that man is so unaccountable a creature as to act most commonly against his principle2 and this is so far from being injurious1 that it is a compliment to human nature1 for we must see either this or worse4 ,this contradiction in the frame of man is the reason that the theory of virtue is so well understood1 and the practice of it so rarely to be met with4 ,if you ask me where to look for those beautiful shining qualities of prime ministers1 and the great favourites of princes that are so finely painted in dedications1 addresses1 epitaphs1 funeral sermons1 and inscriptions1 ,i answer1 there1 and no where else4 ,where would you look for the excellency of a statue1 but in that part which you see of it8 ,it is the polished outside only that has the skill and labour of the sculptor to boast of2 what is out of sight is untouched4 ,would you break the head1 or cut open the breast to look for the brains or the heart1 you would only show your ignorance1 and destroy the workmanship4 ,this has often made me compare the virtues of great men to your large ,china jars3 they make a fine show1 and are ornamental even to a chimney2 one would1 by the bulk they appear in1 and the value that is set upon them1 think they might be very useful1 but look into a thousand of them1 and you will find nothing in them but dust and cobwebs4 ,line #bja4 ----,the very poor ,liv'd better than the rich before4 ,if we trace the most flourishing nations in their origin1 we shall find1 that in the remote beginnings of every society1 the richest and most considerable men among them were a great while destitute of a great many comforts of life that are now enjoyed by the meanest and most humble wretches3 so that many things which were once looked upon as the invention of luxury1 are now allowed1 even to those that are so miserably poor as to become the objects of public charity1 nay1 counted so necessary1 that we think no human creature ought to want them4 ,in the first ages1 man1 without doubt1 fed on the fruits of the earth1 without any previous preparation1 and reposed himself naked like other animals on the lap of their common parent3 whatever has contributed since to make life more comfortable1 as it must have been the result of thought1 experience1 and some labour1 so it more or less deserves the name of luxury1 the more or less trouble it required1 and deviated from the primitive simplicity4 ,our admiration is extended no farther than to what is new to us1 and we all overlook the excellency of things we are used to1 be they never so curious4 ,a man would be laughed at1 that should discover luxury in the plain dress of a poor creature1 that walks along in a thick parish gown1 and a coarse shirt underneath it2 and yet what a number of people1 how many different trades1 and what a variety of skill and tools must be employed to have the most ordinary ,yorkshire cloth8 ,what depth of thought and ingenuity1 what toil and labour1 and what length of time must it have cost1 before man could learn from a seed1 to raise and prepare so useful a product as linen4 ,must that society not be vainly curious1 among whom this admirable commodity1 after it is made1 shall not be thought fit to be used even by the poorest of all1 before it is brought to a perfect whiteness1 which is not to be procured but by the assistance of all the elements1 joined to a world of industry and patience8 ,i have not done yet3 can we reflect not only on the cost laid out upon this luxurious invention1 but likewise on the little time the whiteness of it continues1 in which part of its beauty consists1 that every six or seven days at farthest it wants cleaning1 and while it lasts is a continual charge to the wearer2 can we1 ,i say1 reflect on all this1 and not think it an extravagant piece of nicety1 that even those who receive alms of the parish1 should not only have whole garments made of this operose manufacture1 but likewise that as soon as they are soiled1 to restore them to their pristine purity1 they should make use of one of the most judicious as well as difficult compositions that chemistry can boast of2 with which1 dissolved in water by the help of fire1 the most detersive1 and yet innocent lixivium is prepared that human industry has hitherto been able to invent8 ,it is certain1 time was that the things ,i speak of would have bore those lofty expressions1 and in which every body would have reasoned after the same manner2 but the age we live in would call a man fool1 who should talk of extravagance and nicety1 if he saw a poor woman1 after having wore her crown cloth smock a whole week1 wash it with a bit of stinking soap of a groat a pound4 ,the arts of brewing1 and making bread1 have by slow degrees been brought to the perfection they now are in1 but to have invented them at once1 and priori1 would have required more knowledge and a deeper insight into the nature of fermentation1 than the greatest philosopher has hitherto been endowed with2 yet the fruits of both are now enjoyed by the meanest of our species1 and a starving wretch knows not how to make a more humble1 or a more modest petition1 than by asking for a bit of bread1 or a draught of small beer4 ,man has learned by experience1 that nothing was softer than the small plumes and down of birds1 and found that heaped together1 they would by their elasticity1 gently resist any incumbent weight1 and heave up again of themselves as soon as the pressure is over4 ,to make use of them to sleep upon was1 no doubt1 first invented to compliment the vanity as well as ease of the wealthy and potent2 but they are long since become so common1 that almost every body lies upon featherbeds1 and to substitute flocks in the room of them is counted a miserable shift of the most necessitous4 ,what a vast height must luxury have been arrived to1 before it could be reckoned a hardship to repose upon the soft wool of animals6 ,from caves1 huts1 hovels1 tents1 and barracks1 with which mankind took up at first1 we are come to warm and well-wrought houses1 and the meanest habitations to be seen in cities1 are regular buildings1 contrived by persons skilled in proportions and architecture4 ,if the ancient ,britons and ,gauls should come out of their graves1 with what amazement would they gaze on the mighty structures every where raised for the poor6 ,should they behold the magnificence of a ,chelsey-,college1 a ,greenwich-,hospital1 or what surpasses all them1 a ,des ,invalides at ,paris1 and see the care1 the plenty1 the superfluities and pomp1 which people that have no possessions at all are treated with in those stately palaces1 those who were once the greatest and richest of the land would have reason to envy the most reduced of our species now4 ,another piece of luxury the poor enjoy1 that is not looked upon as such1 and which there is no doubt but the wealthiest in a golden age would abstain from1 is their making use of the flesh of animals to eat4 ,in what concerns the fashions and manners of the ages men live in1 they never examine into the real worth or merit of the cause1 and generally judge of things not as their reason1 but custom direct them4 ,time was when the funeral rites in the disposing of the dead1 were performed by fire1 and the cadavers of the greatest emperors were burnt to ashes4 ,then burying the corps in the ground was a funeral for slaves1 or made a punishment for the worst of malefactors4 ,now nothing is decent or honourable but interring2 and burning the body is reserved for crimes of the blackest dye4 ,at some times we look upon trifles with horror1 at other times we can behold enormities without concern4 ,if we see a man walk with his hat on in a church1 though out of service time1 it shocks us2 but if on a ,sunday night we meet half a dozen fellows drunk in the street1 the sight makes little or no impression upon us4 ,if a woman at a merry-making dresses in man's clothes1 it is reckoned a frolic amongst friends1 and he that finds too much fault with it is counted censorious3 upon the stage it is done without reproach1 and the most virtuous ladies will dispense with it in an actress1 though every body has a full view of her legs and thighs2 but if the same woman1 as soon as she has petticoats on again1 should show her leg to a man as high as her knee1 it would be a very immodest action1 and every body will call her impudent for it4 ,i have often thought1 if it was not for this tyranny which custom usurps over us1 that men of any tolerable good-nature could never be reconciled to the killing of so many animals1 for their daily food1 as long as the bountiful earth so plentifully provides them with varieties of vegetable dainties4 ,i know that reason excites our compassion but faintly1 and therefore ,i would not wonder how men should so little commiserate such imperfect creatures as crayfish1 oysters1 cockles1 and indeed all fish in general3 as they are mute1 and their inward formation1 as well as outward figure1 vastly different from ours1 they express themselves unintelligibly to us1 and therefore it is not strange that their grief should not affect our understanding which it cannot reach2 for nothing stirs us to pity so effectually1 as when the symptoms of misery strike immediately upon our senses1 and ,i have seen people moved at the noise a live lobster makes upon the spit1 that could have killed half a dozen fowls with pleasure4 ,but in such perfect animals as sheep and oxen1 in whom the heart1 the brain and nerves differ so little from ours1 and in whom the separation of the spirits from the blood1 the organs of sense1 and consequently feeling itself1 are the same as they are in human creatures2 ,i cannot imagine how a man not hardened in blood and massacre1 is able to see a violent death1 and the pangs of it1 without concern4 ,in answer to this1 most people will think it sufficient to say1 that all things being allowed to be made for the service of man1 there can be no cruelty in putting creatures to the use they were designed for2 but ,i have heard men make this reply1 while their nature within them has reproached them with the falsehood of the assertion4 ,there is of all the multitude not one man in ten but what will own 7if he was not brought up in a slaughter-house71 that of all trades he could never have been a butcher2 and ,i question whether ever any body so much as killed a chicken without reluctancy the first time4 ,some people are not to be persuaded to taste of any creatures they have daily seen and been acquainted with1 while they were alive2 others extend their scruple no further than to their own poultry1 and refuse to eat what they fed and took care of themselves2 yet all of them will feed heartily and without remorse on beef1 mutton1 and fowls1 when they are bought in the market4 ,in this behaviour1 methinks1 there appears something like a consciousness of guilt1 it looks as if they endeavoured to save themselves from the imputation of a crime 7which they know sticks somewhere7 by removing the cause of it as far as they can from themselves2 and ,i can discover in it some strong remains of primitive pity and innocence1 which all the arbitrary power of custom1 and the violence of luxury1 have not yet been able to conquer4 ,what ,i build upon ,i shall be told is a folly that wise men are not guilty of3 ,i own it2 but while it proceeds from a real passion inherent in our nature1 it is sufficient to demonstrate1 that we are born with a repugnancy to the killing1 and consequently the eating of animals2 for it is impossible that a natural appetite should ever prompt us to act1 or desire others to do1 what we have an aversion to1 be it as foolish as it will4 ,every body knows1 that surgeons1 in the cure of dangerous wounds and fractures1 the extirpations of limbs1 and other dreadful operations1 are often compelled to put their patients to extraordinary torments1 and that the more desperate and calamitous cases occur to them1 the more the outcries and bodily sufferings of others must become familiar to them2 for this reason1 our ,english law1 out of a most affectionate regard to the lives of the subject1 allows them not to be of any jury upon life and death1 as supposing that their practice itself is sufficient to harden and extinguish in them that tenderness1 without which no man is capable of setting a true value upon the lives of his fellow-creatures4 ,now1 if we ought to have no concern for what we do to brute beasts1 and there was not imagined to be any cruelty in killing them1 why should of all callings butchers1 and only they1 jointly with surgeons1 be excluded from being jurymen by the same law8 ,i shall urge nothing of what ,pythagoras and many other wise men have said concerning this barbarity of eating flesh2 ,i have gone too much out of my way already1 and shall therefore beg the reader1 if he would have any more of this1 to run over the following fable1 or else1 if he be tired1 to let it alone1 with an assurance that in doing of either he shall equally oblige me4 ,a ,roman merchant1 in one of the ,carthaginian wars1 was cast away upon the coast of ,afric3 himself and his slave with great difficulty got safe ashore2 but going in quest of relief1 were met by a lion of a mighty size4 ,it happened to be one of the breed that ranged in sop's days1 and one that could not only speak several languages1 but seemed1 moreover1 very well acquainted with human affairs4 ,the slave got upon a tree1 but his master not thinking himself safe there1 and having heard much of the generosity of lions1 fell down prostrate before him1 with all the signs of fear and submission4 ,the lion who had lately filled his belly1 bids him rise1 and for a while lay by his fears1 assuring him withal1 that he should not be touched1 if he could give him any tolerable reasons why he should not be devoured4 ,the merchant obeyed2 and having now received some glimmering hopes of safety1 gave a dismal account of the shipwreck he had suffered1 and endeavouring from thence to raise the lion's pity1 pleaded his cause with abundance of good rhetoric2 but observing by the countenance of the beast1 that flattery and fine words made very little impression1 he betook himself to arguments of greater solidity1 and reasoning from the excellency of man's nature and abilities1 remonstrated how improbable it was that the gods should not have designed him for a better use1 than to be eat by savage beasts4 ,upon this the lion became more attentive1 and vouchsafed now and then a reply1 till at last the following dialogue ensued between them4 ,oh vain and covetous animal 7said the lion71 whose pride and avarice can make him leave his native soil1 where his natural wants might be plentifully supplied1 and try rough seas and dangerous mountains to find out superfluities1 why should you esteem your species above ours8 ,and if the gods have given you a superiority over all creatures1 then why beg you of an inferior8 ,our superiority 7answered the merchant7 consists not in bodily force1 but strength of understanding2 the gods have endued us with a rational soul1 which1 though invisible1 is much the better part of us4 ,i desire to touch nothing of you but what is good to eat2 but why do you value yourself so much upon that part which is invisible8 ,because it is immortal1 and shall meet with rewards after death for the actions of this life1 and the just shall enjoy eternal bliss and tranquillity with the heroes and demi-gods in the ,elysian fields4 ,what life have you led8 ,i have honoured the gods1 and studied to be beneficial to man4 ,then why do you fear death1 if you think the gods as just as you have been8 ,i have a wife and five small children that must come to want if they lose me4 ,i have two whelps that are not big enough to shift for themselves1 that are in want now1 and must actually be starved if ,i can provide nothing for them3 ,your children will be provided for one way or other2 at least as well when ,i have eat you1 as if you had been drowned4 ,as to the excellency of either species1 the value of things among you has ever increased with the scarcity of them1 and to a million of men there is hardly one lion2 besides that1 in the great veneration man pretends to have for his kind1 there is little sincerity farther than it concerns the share which every one's pride has in it for himself2 it is a folly to boast of the tenderness shown1 and attendance given to your young ones1 or the excessive and lasting trouble bestowed in the education of them3 ,man being born the most necessitous and most helpless animal1 this is only an instinct of nature1 which1 in all creatures1 has ever proportioned the care of the parents to the wants and imbecilities of the offspring4 ,but if a man had a real value for his kind1 how is it possible that often ten thousand of them1 and sometimes ten times as many1 should be destroyed in few hours1 for the caprice of two8 ,all degrees of men despise those that are inferior to them1 and if you could enter into the hearts of kings and princes1 you would hardly find any but what have less value for the greatest part of the multitudes they rule over1 than those have for the cattle that belong to them4 ,why should so many pretend to derive their race1 though but spuriously1 from the immortal gods2 why should all of them suffer others to kneel down before them1 and more or less take delight in having divine honours paid them1 but to insinuate that themselves are of a more exalted nature1 and a species superior to that of their subjects8 ,savage ,i am1 but no creature can be called cruel1 but what either by malice or insensibility extinguishes his natural pity3 ,the lion was born without compassion2 we follow the instinct of our nature2 the gods have appointed us to live upon the waste and spoil of other animals1 and as long as we can meet with dead ones1 we never hunt after the living4 ,it is only man1 mischievous man1 that can make death a sport4 ,nature taught your stomach to crave nothing but vegetables2 but your violent fondness to change1 and great eagerness after novelties1 have prompted you to the destruction of animals without justice or necessity1 perverted your nature1 and warped your appetites which way soever your pride or luxury have called them4 ,the lion has a ferment within him that consumes the toughest skin and hardest bones1 as well as the flesh of all animals without exception3 ,your squeamish stomach1 in which the digestive heat is weak and inconsiderable1 will not so much as admit of the most tender parts of them1 unless above half the concoction has been performed by artificial fire before hand2 and yet what animal have you spared to satisfy the caprices of a languid appetite8 ,languid ,i say2 for what is man's hunger1 if compared to the lion's8 ,yours1 when it is at the worst1 makes you faint1 mine makes me mad3 ,oft have ,i tried with roots and herbs to allay the violence of it1 but in vain2 nothing but large quantities of flesh can anywise appease it4 ,yet the fierceness of our hunger notwithstanding1 lions have often requited benefits received2 but ungrateful and perfidious man feeds on the sheep that clothes him1 and spares not her innocent young ones1 whom he has taken into his care and custody4 ,if you tell me the gods made man master over all other creatures1 what tyranny was it then to destroy them out of wantonness8 ,no1 fickle1 timorous animal1 the gods have made you for society1 and designed that millions of you1 when well joined together1 should compose the strong ,leviathan4 ,a single lion bears some sway in the creation1 but what is single man8 ,a small and inconsiderable part1 a trifling atom of one great beast4 ,what nature designs1 she executes2 and it is not safe to judge of what she purposed1 but from the effects she shows3 ,if she had intended that man1 as man from a superiority of species1 should lord it over all other animals1 the tiger1 nay1 the whale and eagle would have obeyed his voice4 ,but if your wit and understanding exceeds ours1 ought not the lion1 in deference to that superiority1 to follow the maxims of men1 with whom nothing is more sacred1 than that the reason of the strongest is ever the most prevalent8 ,whole multitudes of you have conspired and compassed the destruction of one1 after they had owned the gods had made him their superior2 and one has often ruined and cut off whole multitudes1 whom1 by the same gods1 he had sworn to defend and maintain4 ,man never acknowledged superiority without power1 and why should ,i8 ,the excellence ,i boast of is visible1 all animals tremble at the sight of the lion1 not out of panic fear4 ,the gods have given me swiftness to overtake1 and strength to conquer whatever comes near me4 ,where is there a creature that has teeth and claws like mine1 behold the thickness of these massy jaw-bones1 consider the width of them1 and feel the firmness of this brawny neck4 ,the nimblest deer1 the wildest boar1 the stoutest horse1 and strongest bull1 are my prey wherever ,i meet them4 ,thus spoke the lion1 and the merchant fainted away4 ,the lion1 in my opinion1 has stretched the point too far2 yet1 when to soften the flesh of male animals1 we have by castration prevented the firmness their tendons1 and every fibre would have come to1 without it1 ,i confess1 ,i think it ought to move a human creature1 when he reflects upon the cruel care with which they are fattened for destruction4 ,when a large and gentle bullock1 after having resisted a ten times greater force of blows than would have killed his murderer1 falls stunned at last1 and his armed head is fastened to the ground with cords2 as soon as the wide wound is made1 and the jugulars are cut asunder1 what mortal can1 without compassion1 hear the painful bellowings intercepted by his blood1 the bitter sighs that speak the sharpness of his anguish1 and the deep sounding groans1 with loud anxiety1 fetched from the bottom of his strong and palpitating heart2 look on the trembling and violent convulsions of his limbs2 see1 while his reeking gore streams from him1 his eyes become dim and languid1 and behold his strugglings1 gasps1 and last efforts for life1 the certain signs of his approaching fate8 ,when a creature has given such convincing and undeniable proofs of the terrors upon him1 and the pains and agonies he feels1 is there a follower of ,descartes so inured to blood1 as not to refute1 by his commiseration1 the philosophy of that vain reasoner8 ,line #cjg4 ----,for frugally ,they now liv'd 'on their salary4 ,when people have small comings in1 and are honest withal1 it is then that the generality of them begin to be frugal1 and not before4 ,frugality in ethics is called that virtue1 from the principle of which men abstain from superfluities1 and1 despising the operose contrivances of art to procure either ease or pleasure1 content themselves with the natural simplicity of things1 and are carefully temperate in the enjoyment of them1 without any tincture of covetousness4 ,frugality thus limited1 is perhaps scarcer than many may imagine2 but what is generally understood by it1 is a quality more often to be met with1 and consists in a medium between profuseness and avarice1 rather leaning to the latter4 ,as this prudent economy1 which some people call saving is in private families the most certain method to increase an estate4 ,so some imagine1 that whether a country be barren or fruitful1 the same method1 if generally pursued 7which they think practicable71 will have the same effect upon a whole nation1 and that1 for example1 the ,english might be much richer than they are1 if they would be as frugal as some of their neighbours4 ,this1 ,i think1 is an error1 which to prove1 ,i shall first refer the reader to what has been said upon this head in ,remark on l4 #ahj4 and then go on thus4 ,experience teaches us first1 that as people differ in their views and perceptions of things1 so they vary in their inclinations2 one man is given to covetousness1 another to prodigality1 and a third is only saving4 ,secondly1 that men are never1 or at least very seldom1 reclaimed from their darling passions1 either by reason or precept1 and that if any thing ever draws them from what they are naturally propense to1 it must be a change in their circumstances or their fortunes4 ,if we reflect upon these observations1 we shall find1 that to render the generality of a nation lavish1 the product of the country must be considerable1 in proportion to the inhabitants1 and what they are profuse of cheap2 that1 on the contrary1 to make a nation generally frugal1 the necessaries of life must be scarce1 and consequently dear2 and that1 therefore1 let the best politician do what he can1 the profuseness or frugality of a people in general1 must always depend upon1 and will1 in spite of his teeth1 be ever proportioned to the fruitfulness and product of the country1 the number of inhabitants1 and the taxes they are to bear4 ,if any body would refute what ,i have said1 let them only prove from history1 that there ever was in any country a national frugality without a national necessity4 ,let us examine then what things are requisite to aggrandize and enrich a nation4 ,the first desirable blessings for any society of men1 are a fertile soil1 and a happy climate1 a mild government1 and more land than people4 ,these things will render man easy1 loving1 honest1 and sincere4 ,in this condition they may be as virtuous as they can1 without the least injury to the public1 and consequently as happy as they please themselves4 ,but they shall have no arts or sciences1 or be quiet longer than their neighbours will let them2 they must be poor1 ignorant1 and almost wholly destitute of what we call the comforts of life1 and all the cardinal virtues together would not so much as procure a tolerable coat or a porridge-pot among them3 for in this state of slothful ease and stupid innocence1 as you need not fear great vices1 so you must not expect any considerable virtues4 ,man never exerts himself but when he is roused by his desires3 while they lie dormant1 and there is nothing to raise them1 his excellence and abilities will be for ever undiscovered1 and the lumpish machine1 without the influence of his passions1 may be justly compared to a huge wind-mill without a breath of air4 ,would you render a society of men strong and powerful1 you must touch their passions4 ,divide the land1 though there be never so much to spare1 and their possessions will make them covetous3 rouse them1 though but in jest1 from their idleness with praises1 and pride will set them to work in earnest3 teach them trades and handicrafts1 and you will bring envy and emulation among them3 to increase their numbers1 set up a variety of manufactures1 and leave no ground uncultivated2 let property be inviolably secured1 and privileges equal to all men2 suffer nobody to act but what is lawful1 and every body to think what he pleases2 for a country where every body may be maintained that will be employed1 and the other maxims are observed1 must always be thronged1 and can never want people1 as long as there is any in the world4 ,would you have them bold and warlike1 turn to military discipline1 make good use of their fear1 and flatter their vanity with art and assiduity3 but would you1 moreover1 render them an opulent1 knowing1 and polite nation1 teach them commerce with foreign countries1 and1 if possible1 get into the sea1 which to compass spare no labour nor industry1 and let no difficulty deter you from it2 then promote navigation1 cherish the merchant1 and encourage trade in every branch of it2 this will bring riches1 and where they are1 arts and sciences will soon follow3 and by the help of what ,i have named and good management1 it is that politicians can make a people potent1 renowned1 and flourishing4 ,but would you have a frugal and honest society1 the best policy is to preserve men in their native simplicity1 strive not to increase their numbers2 let them never be acquainted with strangers or superfluities1 but remove1 and keep from them every thing that might raise their desires1 or improve their understanding4 ,great wealth1 and foreign treasure1 will ever scorn to come among men1 unless you will admit their inseparable companions1 avarice and luxury3 where trade is considerable1 fraud will intrude4 ,to be at once well-bred and sincere1 is no less than a contradiction2 and1 therefore1 while man advances in knowledge1 and his manners are polished1 we must expect to see1 at the same time1 his desires enlarged1 his appetites refined1 and his vices increased4 ,the ,dutch may ascribe their present grandeur to the virtue and frugality of their ancestors as they please2 but what made that contemptible spot of ground so considerable among the principal powers of ,europe1 has been their political wisdom in postponing every thing to merchandise and navigation1 the unlimited liberty of conscience that is enjoyed among them1 and the unwearied application with which they have always made use of the most effectual means to encourage and increase trade in general4 ,they never were noted for frugality before ,philip ,,ii4 of ,spain began to rage over them with that unheard of tyranny4 ,their laws were trampled upon1 their rights and large immunities taken from them1 and their constitution torn to pieces4 ,several of their chief nobles were condemned and executed without legal form of process4 ,complaints and remonstrances were punished as severely as resistance1 and those that escaped being massacred1 were plundered by ravenous soldiers4 ,as this was intolerable to a people that had always been used to the mildest of governments1 and enjoyed greater privileges than any of the neighbouring nations1 so they chose rather to die in arms than perish by cruel executioners4 ,if we consider the strength ,spain had then1 and the low circumstances those distressed states were in1 there never was heard of a more unequal strife2 yet1 such was their fortitude and resolution1 that only seven of those provinces1 uniting themselves together1 maintained against the greatest and best disciplined nation in ,europe1 the most tedious and bloody war1 that is to be met with in ancient or modern history4 ,rather than to become a victim to the ,spanish fury1 they were contented to live upon a third part of their revenues1 and lay out far the greatest part of their income in defending themselves against their merciless enemies4 ,these hardships and calamities of a war within their bowels1 first put them upon that extraordinary frugality2 and the continuance under the same difficulties for above fourscore years1 could not but render it customary and habitual to them4 ,but all their arts of saving1 and penurious way of living1 could never have enabled them to make head against so potent an enemy1 if their industry in promoting their fishery and navigation in general1 had not helped to supply the natural wants and disadvantages they laboured under4 ,the country is so small and so populous1 that there is not land enough 7though hardly an inch of it is unimproved7 to feed the tenth part of the inhabitants4 ,holland itself is full of large rivers1 and lies lower than the sea1 which would run over it every tide1 and wash it away in one winter1 if it was not kept out by vast banks and huge walls3 the repairs of those1 as well as their sluices1 quays1 mills1 and other necessaries they are forced to make use of to keep themselves from being drowned1 are a greater expence to them1 one year with another1 than could be raised by a general land tax of four shillings in the pound1 if to be deducted from the neat produce of the landlord's revenue4 ,is it a wonder1 that people1 under such circumstances1 and loaden with greater taxes1 besides1 than any other nation1 should be obliged to be saving8 but why must they be a pattern to others1 who1 besides1 that they are more happily situated1 are much richer within themselves1 and have1 to the same number of people1 above ten times the extent of ground8 ,the ,dutch and we often buy and sell at the same markets1 and so far our views may be said to be the same3 otherwise the interests and political reasons of the two nations1 as to the private economy of either1 are very different4 ,it is their interest to be frugal1 and spend little2 because they must have every thing from abroad1 except butter1 cheese1 and fish1 and therefore of them1 especially the latter1 they consume three times the quantity1 which the same number of people do here4 ,it is our interest to eat plenty of beef and mutton to maintain the farmer1 and further improve our land1 of which we have enough to feed ourselves1 and as many more1 if it was better cultivated4 ,the ,dutch perhaps have more shipping1 and more ready money than we1 but then those are only to be considered as the tools they work with4 ,so a carrier may have more horses than a man of ten times his worth1 and a banker that has not above fifteen or sixteen hundred pounds in the world1 may have generally more ready cash by him1 than a gentleman of two thousand a-year4 ,he that keeps three or four stage-coaches to get his bread1 is to a gentleman that keeps a coach for his pleasure1 what the ,dutch are in comparison to us2 having nothing of their own but fish1 they are carriers and freighters to the rest of the world1 while the basis of our trade chiefly depends upon our own product4 ,another instance1 that what makes the bulk of the people saving1 are heavy taxes1 scarcity of land1 and such things that occasion a dearth of provisions1 may be given from what is observable among the ,dutch themselves4 ,in the province of ,holland there is a vast trade1 and an unconceivable treasure of money4 ,the land is almost as rich as dung itself1 and 7as ,i have said once already7 not an inch of it unimproved4 ,in ,gelderland1 and ,overyssel1 there is hardly any trade1 and very little money3 the soil is very indifferent1 and abundance of ground lies waste4 ,then1 what is the reason that the same ,dutch1 in the two latter provinces1 though poorer than the first1 are yet less stingy and more hospitable8 ,nothing but that their taxes in most things are less extravagant1 and in proportion to the number of people1 they have a great deal more ground4 ,what they save in ,holland1 they save out of their bellies2 it is eatables1 drinkables1 and fuel1 that their heaviest taxes are upon1 but they wear better clothes1 and have richer furniture1 than you will find in the other provinces4 ,those that are frugal by principle1 are so in every thing2 but in ,holland the people are only sparing in such things as are daily wanted1 and soon consumed2 in what is lasting they are quite otherwise3 in pictures and marble they are profuse2 in their buildings and gardens they are extravagant to folly4 ,in other countries1 you may meet with stately courts and palaces of great extent1 that belong to princes1 which nobody can expect in a commonwealth1 where so much equality is observed as there is in this2 but in all ,europe you shall find no private buildings so sumptuously magnificent1 as a great many of the merchants and other gentlemen's houses are in ,amsterdam1 and some other great cities of that small province2 and the generality of those that build there1 lay out a greater proportion of their estates on houses they dwell in1 than any people upon the earth4 ,the nation ,i speak of was never in greater straits1 nor their affairs in a more dismal posture since they were a republic1 than in the year #afga1 and the beginning of #afgb4 ,what we know of their economy and constitution with any certainty1 has been chiefly owing to ,sir ,william ,temple1 whose observations upon their manners and government1 it is evident from several passages in his memoirs1 were made about that time4 ,the ,dutch1 indeed1 were then very frugal2 but since those days1 and that their calamities have not been so pressing 7though the common people1 on whom the principal burden of all excises and impositions lies1 are perhaps much as they were71 a great alteration has been made among the better sort of people in their equipages1 entertainments1 and whole manner of living4 ,those who would have it1 that the frugality of that nation flows not so much from necessity1 as a general aversion to vice and luxury1 will put us in mind of their public administration1 and smallness of salaries1 their prudence in bargaining for1 and buying stores and other necessaries1 the great care they take not to be imposed upon by those that serve them1 and their severity against them that break their contracts4 ,but what they would ascribe to the virtue and honesty of ministers1 is wholly due to their strict regulations1 concerning the management of the public treasure1 from which their admirable form of government will not suffer them to depart2 and indeed one good man may take another's word1 if they so agree1 but a whole nation ought never to trust to any honesty1 but what is built upon necessity2 for unhappy is the people1 and their constitution will be ever precarious1 whose welfare must depend upon the virtues and consciences of ministers and politicians4 ,the ,dutch generally endeavour to promote as much frugality among their subjects as it is possible1 not because it is a virtue1 but because it is1 generally speaking1 their interest1 as ,i have shown before2 for1 as this latter changes1 so they alter their maxims1 as will be plain in the following instance4 ,as soon as their ,east ,india ships come home1 the ,company pays off the men1 and many of them receive the greatest part of what they have been earning in seven or eight1 or some fifteen or sixteen years time4 ,these poor fellows are encouraged to spend their money with all profuseness imaginable2 and considering that most of them1 when they set out first1 were reprobates1 that under the tuition of a strict discipline1 and a miserable diet1 have been so long kept at hard labour without money1 in the midst of danger1 it cannot be difficult to make them lavish1 as soon as they have plenty4 ,they squander away in wine1 women1 and music1 as much as people of their taste and education are well capable of1 and are suffered 7so they but abstain from doing of mischief71 to revel and riot with greater licentiousness than is customary to be allowed to others4 ,you may in some cities see them accompanied with three or four lewd women1 few of them sober1 run roaring through the streets by broad day-light with a fiddler before them3 ,and if the money1 to their thinking1 goes not fast enough these ways1 they will find out others1 and sometimes fling it among the mob by handfuls4 ,this madness continues in most of them while they have any thing left1 which never lasts long1 and for this reason1 by a nick-name1 they are called1 ,lords of six ,weeks1 that being generally the time by which the ,company has other ships ready to depart2 where these infatuated wretches 7their money being gone7 are forced to enter themselves again1 and may have leisure to repent their folly4 ,in this stratagem there is a double policy3 ,first1 if the sailors that have been inured to the hot climates and unwholesome air and diet1 should be frugal1 and stay in their own country1 the ,company would be continually obliged to employ fresh men1 of which 7besides that they are not so fit for their business71 hardly one in two ever lives in some places of the ,east ,indies1 which often would prove great charge as well as disappointment to them4 ,the second is1 that the large sums so often distributed among those sailors1 are by this means made immediately to circulate throughout the country1 from whence1 by heavy excises1 and other impositions1 the greatest part of it is soon drawn back into the public treasure4 ,to convince the champions for national frugality by another argument1 that what they urge is impracticable1 we will suppose that ,i am mistaken in every thing which in ,remark1 l4 #ahj1 ,i have said in behalf of luxury1 and the necessity of it to maintain trade3 after that let us examine what a general frugality1 if it was by art and management to be forced upon people whether they have occasion for it or not1 would produce in such a nation as ours4 ,we will grant1 then1 that all the people in ,great ,britain shall consume but four-fifths of what they do now1 and so lay by one-fifth part of their income2 ,i shall not speak of what influence this would have upon almost every trade1 as well as the farmer1 the grazier1 and the landlord1 but favourably suppose 7what is yet impossible71 that the same work shall be done1 and consequently the same handicrafts be employed as there are now4 ,the consequence would be1 that unless money should all at once fall prodigiously in value1 and every thing else1 contrary to reason1 grow very dear1 at the five years end all the working people1 and the poorest of labourers 7for ,i would not meddle with any of the rest71 would be worth in ready cash as much as they now spend in a whole year2 which1 by the bye1 would be more money than ever the nation had at once4 ,let us now1 overjoyed with this increase of wealth1 take a view of the condition the working people would be in1 and1 reasoning from experience1 and what we daily observe of them1 judge what their behaviour would be in such a case4 ,every body knows that there is a vast number of journeymen weavers1 tailors1 clothworkers1 and twenty other handicrafts1 who1 if by four days labour in a week they can maintain themselves1 will hardly be persuaded to work the fifth2 and that there are thousands of labouring men of all sorts1 who will1 though they can hardly subsist1 put themselves to fifty inconveniences1 disoblige their masters1 pinch their bellies1 and run in debt to make holidays4 ,when men show such an extraordinary proclivity to idleness and pleasure1 what reason have we to think that they would ever work1 unless they were obliged to it by immediate necessity8 ,when we see an artificer that cannot be drove to his work before ,tuesday1 because the ,monday morning he has two shillings left of his last week's pay2 why should we imagine he would go to it at all1 if he had fifteen or twenty pounds in his pocket8 ,what would1 at this rate1 become of our manufactures8 ,if the merchant would send cloth abroad1 he must make it himself1 for the clothier cannot get one man out of twelve that used to work for him4 ,if what ,i speak of was only to befal the journeymen shoemakers1 and nobody else1 in less than a twelvemonth1 half of us would go barefoot4 ,the chief and most pressing use there is for money in a nation1 is to pay the labour of the poor1 and when there is a real scarcity of it1 those who have a great many workmen to pay1 will always feel it first2 yet notwithstanding this great necessity of coin1 it would be easier1 where property was well secured1 to live without money1 than without poor2 for who would do the work8 ,for this reason the quantity of circulating coin in a country1 ought always to be proportioned to the number of hands that are employed2 and the wages of labourers to the price of provisions4 ,from whence it is demonstrable1 that whatever procures plenty1 makes labourers cheap1 where the poor are well managed2 who as they ought to be kept from starving1 so they should receive nothing worth saving4 ,if here and there one of the lowest class by uncommon industry1 and pinching his belly1 lifts himself above the condition he was brought up in1 nobody ought to hinder him2 nay1 it is undeniably the wisest course for every person in the society1 and for every private family to be frugal2 but it is the interest of all rich nations1 that the greatest part of the poor should almost never be idle1 and yet continually spend what they get4 ,all men1 as ,sir ,william ,temple observes very well1 are more prone to ease and pleasure than they are to labour1 when they are not prompted to it by pride and avarice1 and those that get their living by their daily labour1 are seldom powerfully influenced by either3 so that they have nothing to stir them up to be serviceable but their wants1 which it is prudence to relieve1 but folly to cure4 ,the only thing1 then1 that can render the labouring man industrious1 is a moderate quantity of money2 for as too little will1 according as his temper is1 either dispirit or make him desperate1 so too much will make him insolent and lazy4 ,a man would be laughed at by most people1 who should maintain that too much money could undo a nation3 yet this has been the fate of ,spain2 to this the learned ,don ,diego ,savedra ascribes the ruin of his country4 ,the fruits of the earth in former ages had made ,spain so rich1 that ,king ,lewis ,,xi4 of ,france being come to the court of ,toledo1 was astonished at its splendour1 and said1 that he had never seen any thing to be compared to it1 either in ,europe or ,asia2 he that in his travels to the ,holy ,land had run through every province of them4 ,in the kingdom of ,castile alone 7if we may believe some writers71 there were for the holy war1 from all parts of the world got together one hundred thousand foot1 ten thousand horse1 and sixty thousand carriages for baggage1 which ,alonso ,,iii4 maintained at his own charge1 and paid every day1 as well soldiers as officers and princes1 every one according to his rank and dignity3 nay1 down to the reign of ,ferdinand and ,isabella 7who equipped ,columbus71 and some time after1 ,spain was a fertile country1 where trade and manufactures flourished1 and had a knowing industrious people to boast of4 ,but as soon as that mighty treasure1 that was obtained with more hazard and cruelty than the world until then had known1 and which to come at1 by the ,spaniard's own confession1 had cost the lives of twenty millions of ,indians2 as soon1 ,i say1 as that ocean of treasure came rolling in upon them1 it took away their senses1 and their industry forsook them4 ,the farmer left his plough1 the mechanic his tools1 the merchant his compting-house1 and every body scorning to work1 took his pleasure and turned gentleman4 ,they thought they had reason to value themselves above all their neighbours1 and now nothing but the conquest of the world would serve them4 ,the consequence of this has been1 that other nations have supplied what their own sloth and pride denied them2 and when every body saw1 that notwithstanding all the prohibitions the government could make against the exportation of bullion1 the ,spaniard would part with his money1 and bring it you aboard himself at the hazard of his neck1 all the world endeavoured to work for ,spain4 ,gold and silver being by this means yearly divided and shared among all the trading countries1 have made all things dear1 and most nations of ,europe industrious1 except their owners1 who1 ever since their mighty acquisitions1 sit with their arms across1 and wait every year with impatience and anxiety1 the arrival of their revenues from abroad1 to pay others for what they have spent already3 and thus by too much money1 the making of colonies and other mismanagements1 of which it was the occasion1 ,spain is1 from a fruitful and well-peopled country1 with all its mighty titles and possessions1 made a barren and empty thoroughfare through which gold and silver pass from ,america to the rest of the world2 and the nation1 from a rich1 acute1 diligent1 and laborious1 become a slow1 idle1 proud1 and beggarly people3 ,so much for ,spain4 ,the next country where money is called the product1 is ,portugal1 and the figure which that kingdom with all its gold makes in ,europe1 ,i think is not much to be envied4 ,the great art then to make a nation happy1 and what we call flourishing1 consists in giving every body an opportunity of being employed2 which to compass1 let a government's first care be to promote as great a variety of manufactures1 arts1 and handicrafts1 as human wit can invent2 and the second1 to encourage agriculture and fishery in all their branches1 that the whole earth may be forced to exert itself as well as man2 for as the one is an infallible maxim to draw vast multitudes of people into a nation1 so the other is the only method to maintain them4 ,it is from this policy1 and not the trifling regulations of lavishness and frugality 7which will ever take their own course1 according to the circumstances of the people71 that the greatness and felicity of nations must be expected2 for let the value of gold and silver either rise or fall1 the enjoyment of all societies will ever depend upon the fruits of the earth1 and the labour of the people2 both which joined together are a more certain1 a more inexhaustible1 and a more real treasure1 than the gold of ,brazil1 or the silver of ,potosi4 ,line #cba4 ,no honour now1 c4 ,honour1 in its figurative sense1 is a chimera without truth or being1 an invention of moralists and politicians1 and signifies a certain principle of virtue not related to religion1 found in some men that keeps them close to their duty and engagements whatever they be2 as for example1 a man of honour enters into a conspiracy with others to murder a king2 he is obliged to go thorough stitch with it2 and if overcome by remorse or good nature1 he startles at the enormity of his purpose1 discovers the plot1 and turns a witness against his accomplices1 he then forfeits his honour1 at least among the party he belonged to4 ,the excellency of this principle is1 that the vulgar are destitute of it1 and it is only to be met with in people of the better sort1 as some oranges have kernels1 and others not1 though the outside be the same4 ,in great families it is like the gout1 generally counted hereditary1 and all the lords children are born with it4 ,in some that never felt any thing of it1 it is acquired by conversation and reading 7especially of romances71 in others by preferment2 but there is nothing that encourages the growth of it more than a sword1 and upon the first wearing of one1 some people have felt considerable shoots of it in four and twenty hours4 ,the chief and most important care a man of honour ought to have1 is the preservation of this principle1 and rather than forfeit it1 he must lose his employments and estate1 nay1 life itself2 for which reason1 whatever humility he may show by way of good-breeding1 he is allowed to put an inestimable value upon himself1 as a possessor of this invisible ornament4 ,the only method to preserve this principle1 is to live up to the rules of honour1 which are laws he is to walk by3 himself is obliged always to be faithful to his trust1 to prefer the public interest to his own1 not to tell lies1 nor defraud or wrong any body1 and from others to suffer no affront1 which is a term of art for every action designedly done to undervalue him4 ,the men of ancient honour1 of which ,i reckon ,don ,quixote to have been the last upon record1 were very nice observers of all these laws1 and a great many more than ,i have named2 but the moderns seem to be more remiss3 they have a profound veneration for the last of them1 but they pay not an equal obedience to any of the other2 and whoever will but strictly comply with that ,i hint at1 shall have abundance of trespasses against all the rest connived at4 ,a man of honour is always counted impartial1 and a man of sense of course2 for nobody never heard of a man of honour that was a fool3 for this reason1 he has nothing to do with the law1 and is always allowed to be a judge in his own case2 and if the least injury be done either to himself or his friend1 his relation1 his servant1 his dog1 or any thing which he is pleased to take under his honourable protection1 satisfaction must be forthwith demanded2 and if it proves an affront1 and he that gave it like wise a man of honour1 a battle must ensue4 ,from all this it is evident1 that a man of honour must be possessed of courage1 and that without it his other principle would be no more than a sword without a point4 ,let us1 therefore1 examine what courage consists in1 and whether it be1 as most people will have it1 a real something that valiant men have in their nature distinct from all their other qualities or not4 ,there is nothing so universally sincere upon earth1 as the love which all creatures1 that are capable of any1 bear to themselves2 and as there is no love but what implies a care to preserve the thing beloved1 so there is nothing more sincere in any creature than his will1 wishes1 and endeavours1 to preserve himself4 ,this is the law of nature1 by which no creature is endued with any appetite or passion1 but what either directly or indirectly tends to the preservation either of himself or his species4 ,the means by which nature obliges every creature continually to stir in this business of self-preservation1 are grafted in him1 and1 in man1 called desires1 which either compel him to crave what he thinks will sustain or please him1 or command him to avoid what he imagines might displease1 hurt1 or destroy him4 ,these desires or passions have all their different symptoms by which they manifest themselves to those they disturb1 and from that variety of disturbances they make within us1 their various denominations have been given them1 as has been shown already in pride and shame4 ,the passion that is raised in us when we apprehend that mischief is approaching us1 is called fear3 the disturbance it makes within us is always more or less violent in proportion1 not of the danger1 but our apprehension of the mischief dreaded1 whether real or imaginary4 ,our fear then being always proportioned to the apprehension we have of the danger1 it follows1 that while that apprehension lasts1 a man can no more shake off his fear than he can a leg or an arm4 ,in a fright1 it is true1 the apprehension of danger is so sudden1 and attacks us so lively 7as sometimes to take away reason and senses71 that when it is over we often do not remember we had any apprehension at all2 but1 from the event1 it is plain we had it1 for how could we have been frightened if we had not apprehended that some evil or other was coming upon us8 ,most people are of opinion1 that this apprehension is to be conquered by reason1 but ,i confess ,i am not3 ,those that have been frightened will tell you1 that as soon as they could recollect themselves1 that is1 make use of their reason1 their apprehension was conquered4 ,but this is no conquest at all1 for in a fright the danger was either altogether imaginary1 or else it is past by that time they can make use of their reason2 and therefore if they find there is no danger1 it is no wonder that they should not apprehend any3 but1 when the danger is permanent1 let them then make use of their reason1 and they will find that it may serve them to examine the greatness and reality of the danger1 and that1 if they find it less than they imagined1 the apprehension will be lessened accordingly2 but1 if the danger proves real1 and the same in every circumstance as they took it to be at first1 then their reason1 instead of diminishing1 will rather increase their apprehension4 ,while this fear lasts1 no creature can fight offensively2 and yet we see brutes daily fight obstinately1 and worry one another to death2 so that some other passion must be able to overcome this fear1 and the most contrary to it is anger3 which1 to trace to the bottom1 ,i must beg leave to make another digression4 ,no creature can subsist without food1 nor any species of them 7,i speak of the more perfect animals7 continue long unless young ones are continually born as fast as the old ones die4 ,therefore the first and fiercest appetite that nature has given them is hunger1 the next is lust2 the one prompting them to procreate1 as the other bids them eat4 ,now1 if we observe that anger is that passion which is raised in us when we are crossed or disturbed in our desires1 and that1 as it sums up all the strength in creatures1 so it was given them1 that by it they might exert themselves more vigorously in endeavouring to remove1 overcome1 or destroy whatever obstructs them in the pursuit of self preservation2 we shall find that brutes1 unless themselves or what they love1 or the liberty of either are threatened or attacked1 have nothing worth notice that can move them to anger1 but hunger or lust4 ,it is they that make them more fierce1 for we must observe1 that the appetites of creatures are as actually crossed1 while they want and cannot meet with what they desire 7though perhaps with less violence7 as when hindered from enjoying what they have in view4 ,what ,i have said will appear more plainly1 if we but mind what nobody can be ignorant of1 which is this3 all creatures upon earth live either upon the fruits and product of it1 or else the flesh of other animals1 their fellow-creatures4 ,the latter1 which we call beasts of prey1 nature has armed accordingly1 and given them weapons and strength to overcome and tear asunder those whom she has designed for their food1 and likewise a much keener appetite than to other animals that live upon herbs1 c4 ,for1 as to the first1 if a cow loved mutton as well as she does grass1 being made as she is1 and having no claws or talons1 and but one row of teeth before1 that are all of an equal length1 she would be starved even among a flock of sheep4 ,secondly1 as to their voraciousness1 if experience did not teach us1 our reason might3 in the first place1 it is highly probable1 that the hunger which can make a creature fatigue1 harass and expose himself to danger for every bit he eats1 is more piercing than that which only bids him eat what stands before him1 and which he may have for stooping down4 ,in the second1 it is to be considered1 that as beasts of prey have an instinct by which they learn to crave1 trace1 and discover those creatures that are good food for them2 so the others have likewise an instinct that teaches them to shun1 conceal themselves1 and run away from those that hunt after them3 from hence it must follow1 that beasts of prey1 though they could almost eat forever1 go yet more often with empty bellies than other creatures1 whose victuals neither fly from nor oppose them4 ,this must perpetuate as well as increase their hunger1 which hereby becomes a constant fuel to their anger4 ,if you ask me what stirs up this anger in bulls and cocks that will fight to death1 and yet are neither animals of prey1 nor very voracious1 ,i answer1 lust4 ,those creatures1 whose rage proceeds from hunger1 both male and female1 attack every thing they can master1 and fight obstinately against all3 ,but the animals1 whose fury is provoked by a venereal ferment1 being generally males1 exert themselves chiefly against other males of the same species4 ,they may do mischief by chance to other creatures2 but the main objects of their hatred are their rivals1 and it is against them only that their prowess and fortitude are shown4 ,we see likewise in all those creatures1 of which the male is able to satisfy a great number of females1 a more considerable superiority in the male1 expressed by nature in his make and features1 as well as fierceness1 than is observed in other creatures1 where the male is contented with one or two females4 ,dogs1 though become domestic animals1 are ravenous to a proverb1 and those of them that will fight being carnivorous1 would soon become beasts of prey1 if not fed by us2 what we may observe in them is an ample proof of what ,i have hitherto advanced4 ,those of a true fighting breed1 being voracious creatures1 both male and female1 will fasten upon any thing1 and suffer themselves to be killed before they give over4 ,as the female is rather more salacious than the male2 so there is no difference in their make at all1 what distinguishes the sexes excepted1 and the female is rather the fiercest of the two4 ,a bull is a terrible creature when he is kept up1 but where he has twenty or more cows to range among1 in a little time he will become as tame as any of them1 and a dozen hens will spoil the best game cock in ,england4 ,harts and deers are counted chaste and timorous creatures1 and so indeed they are almost all the year long1 except in rutting time1 and then on a sudden they become bold to admiration1 and often make at the keepers themselves4 ,that the influence of those two principal appetites1 hunger and lust1 upon the temper of animals1 is not so whimsical as some may imagine1 may be partly demonstrated from what is observable in ourselves2 for1 though our hunger is infinitely less violent than that of wolves and other ravenous creatures1 yet we see that people who are in health1 and have a tolerable stomach1 are more fretful1 and sooner put out of humour for trifles when they stay for their victuals beyond their usual hours1 than at any other time4 ,and again1 though lust in man is not so raging as it is in bulls1 and other salacious creatures1 yet nothing provokes men and women both sooner1 and more violently to anger1 than what crosses their amours1 when they are heartily in love2 and the most fearful and tenderly educated of either sex1 have slighted the greatest dangers1 and set aside all other considerations1 to compass the destruction of a rival4 ,hitherto ,i have endeavoured to demonstrate1 that no creature can fight offensively as long as his fear lasts2 that fear cannot be conquered but by another passion2 that the most contrary to it1 and most effectual to overcome it1 is anger2 that the two principal appetites which1 disappointed1 can stir up this last-named passion1 are hunger and lust1 and that1 in all brute beasts1 the proneness to anger and obstinacy in fighting1 generally depend upon the violence of either or both those appetites together3 ,from whence it must follow1 that what we call prowess1 or natural courage in creatures1 is nothing but the effect of anger1 and that all fierce animals must be either very ravenous1 or very lustful1 if not both4 ,let us now examine what by this rule we ought to judge of our own species4 ,from the tenderness of man's skin1 and the great care that is required for years together to rear him2 from the make of his jaws1 the evenness of his teeth1 the breadth of his nails1 and the slightness of both1 it is not probable that nature should have designed him for rapine2 for this reason his hunger is not voracious as it is in beasts of prey2 neither is he so salacious as other animals that are called so1 and being besides very industrious to supply his wants1 he can have no reigning appetite to perpetuate his anger1 and must consequently be a timorous animal4 ,what ,i have said last must only be understood of man in his savage state2 for1 if we examine him as a member of a society1 and a taught animal1 we shall find him quite another creature3 ,as soon as his pride has room to play1 and envy1 avarice1 and ambition begin to catch hold of him1 he is roused from his natural innocence and stupidity4 ,as his knowledge increases1 his desires are enlarged1 and consequently his wants and appetites are multiplied3 ,hence it must follow1 that he will often be crossed in the pursuit of them1 and meet with abundance more disappointment to stir up his anger in this than his former condition1 and man would in a little time become the most hurtful and obnoxious creature in the world1 if let alone1 whenever he could over-power his adversary1 if he had no mischief to fear but from the person that angered him4 ,the first care1 therefore1 of all governments is1 by severe punishments to curb his anger when it does hurt1 and so1 by increasing his fears1 prevent the mischief it might produce4 ,when various laws to restrain him from using force are strictly executed1 self-preservation must teach him to be peaceable2 and1 as it is every body's business to be as little disturbed as is possible1 his fears will be continually augmented and enlarged as he advances in experience1 understanding1 and foresight4 ,the consequence of this must be1 that as the provocations he will receive to anger will be infinite in the civilized state1 so his fears to damp it will be the same1 and thus1 in a little time1 he will be taught by his fears to destroy his anger1 and by art to consult1 in an opposite method1 the same self-preservation for which nature before had furnished him with anger1 as well as the rest of his passions4 ,the only useful passion1 then1 that man is possessed of toward the peace and quiet of a society1 is his fear1 and the more you work upon it the more orderly and governable he will be2 for how useful soever anger may be to man1 as he is a single creature by himself1 yet the society has no manner of occasion for it3 ,but nature being always the same1 in the formation of animals1 produces all creatures as like to those that beget and bear them1 as the place she forms them in1 and the various influences from without1 will give her leave2 and consequently all men1 whether they are born in courts or forests1 are susceptible of anger4 ,when this passion overcomes 7as among all degrees of people it sometimes does7 the whole set of fears man has1 he has true courage1 and will fight as boldly as a lion or a tiger1 and at no other time2 and ,i shall endeavour to prove1 that whatever is called courage in man1 when he is not angry1 is spurious and artificial4 ,it is possible1 by good government1 to keep a society always quiet in itself1 but nobody can ensure peace from without for ever4 ,the society may have occasion to extend their limits further1 and enlarge their territories1 or others may invade theirs1 or something else will happen that man must be brought to fight2 for how civilized soever men may be1 they never forget that force goes beyond reason3 ,the politician now must alter his measures1 and take off some of man's fears2 he must strive to persuade him1 that all what was told him before of the barbarity of killing men ceases1 as soon as these men are enemies to the public1 and that their adversaries are neither so good nor so strong as themselves4 ,these things well managed will seldom fail of drawing the hardiest1 the most quarrelsome1 and the most mischievous into combat2 but unless they are better qualified1 ,i will not answer for their behaviour there3 ,if once you can make them undervalue their enemies1 you may soon stir them up to anger1 and while that lasts they will fight with greater obstinacy than any disciplined troops3 ,but if any thing happens that was unforeseen1 and a sudden great noise1 a tempest1 or any strange or uncommon accident that seems to threaten them1 intervenes1 fear seizes them1 disarms their anger1 and makes them run away to a man4 ,this natural courage1 therefore1 as soon as people begin to have more wit1 must be soon exploded4 ,in the first place1 those that have felt the smart of the enemy's blows1 will not always believe what is said to undervalue him1 and are often not easily provoked to anger4 ,secondly1 anger consisting in an ebullition of the spirits1 is a passion of no long continuance 7ira furor brevis est71 and the enemies1 if they withstand the first shock of these angry people1 have commonly the better of it4 ,thirdly1 as long as people are angry1 all counsel and discipline are lost upon them1 and they can never be brought to use art or conduct in their battles4 ,anger then1 without which no creature has natural courage1 being altogether useless in a war to be managed by stratagem1 and brought into a regular art1 the government must find out an equivalent for courage that will make men fight4 ,whoever would civilize men1 and establish them into a body politic1 must be thoroughly acquainted with all the passions and appetites1 strength and weaknesses of their frame1 and understand how to turn their greatest frailties to the advantage of the public4 ,in the ,inquiry into the ,origin of ,moral ,virtue1 ,i have shown how easily men were induced to believe any thing that is said in their praise4 ,if1 therefore1 a lawgiver or politician1 whom they have a great veneration for1 should tell them1 that the generality of men had within them a principle of valour distinct from anger1 or any other passion1 that made them to despise danger1 and face death itself with intrepidity1 and that they who had the most of it were the most valuable of their kind1 it is very likely1 considering what has been said1 that most of them1 though they felt nothing of this principle1 would swallow it for truth1 and that the proudest1 feeling themselves moved at this piece of flattery1 and not well versed in distinguishing the passions1 might imagine that they felt it heaving in their breasts1 by mistaking pride for courage4 ,if but one in ten can be persuaded openly to declare1 that he is possessed of this principle1 and maintain it against all gainsayers1 there will soon be half a dozen that shall assert the same4 ,whoever has once owned it is engaged1 the politician has nothing to do but to take all imaginable care to flatter the pride of those that brag of1 and are willing to stand by it a thousand different ways3 ,the same pride that drew him in first will ever after oblige him to defend the assertion1 till at last the fear of discovering the reality of his heart1 comes to be so great1 that it outdoes the fear of death itself4 ,do but increase man's pride1 and his fear of shame will ever be proportioned to it3 for the greater value a man sets upon himself1 the more pains he will take1 and the greater hardships he will undergo1 to avoid shame4 ,the great art to make man courageous1 is first to make him own this principle of valour within1 and afterwards to inspire him with as much horror against shame1 as nature has given him against death2 and that there are things to which man has1 or may have1 a stronger aversion than he has to death1 is evident from suicide4 ,he that makes death his choice1 must look upon it as less terrible than what he shuns by it2 for whether the evil dreaded be present or to come1 real or imaginary1 nobody would kill himself wilfully but to avoid something4 ,lucretia held out bravely against all the attacks of the ravisher1 even when he threatened her life2 which shows that she valued her virtue beyond it3 but when he threatened her reputation with eternal infamy1 she fairly surrendered1 and then slew herself2 a certain sign that she valued her virtue less than her glory1 and her life less than either4 ,the fear of death did not make her yield1 for she resolved to die before she did it1 and her compliance must only be considered as a bribe1 to make ,tarquin forbear sullying her reputation2 so that life had neither the first nor second place in the esteem of ,lucretia4 ,the courage1 then1 which is only useful to the body politic1 and what is generally called true valour1 is artificial1 and consists in a superlative horror against shame1 by flattery infused into men of exalted pride4 ,as soon as the notions of honour and shame are received among a society1 it is not difficult to make men fight4 ,first1 take care they are persuaded of the justice of their cause2 for no man fights heartily that thinks himself in the wrong2 then show them that their altars1 their possessions1 wives1 children1 and every thing that is near and dear to them1 is concerned in the present quarrel1 or at least may be influenced by it hereafter2 then put feathers in their caps1 and distinguish them from others1 talk of public-spiritedness1 the love of their country1 facing an enemy with intrepidity1 despising death the bed of honour1 and such like high-sounding words1 and every proud man will take up arms and fight himself to death before we will turn tail1 if it be by daylight4 ,one man in an army is a check upon another1 and a hundred of them1 that single and without witness1 would be all cowards1 are1 for fear of incurring one another's contempt1 made valiant by being together4 ,to continue and heighten this artificial courage1 all that run away ought to be punished with ignominy2 those that fought well1 whether they did beat or were beaten1 must be flattered and solemnly commended2 those that lost their limbs rewarded2 and those that were killed1 ought1 above all to be taken notice of1 artfully lamented1 and to have extraordinary encomiums bestowed upon them2 for to pay honours to the dead1 will ever be a sure method to make bubbles of the living4 ,when ,i say1 that the courage made use of in the wars is artificial1 ,i do not imagine that by the same art1 all men may be made equally valiant3 as men have not an equal share of pride1 and differ from one another in shape and inward structure1 it is impossible they should be all equally fit for the same uses4 ,some men will never be able to learn music1 and yet make good mathematicians2 others will play excellently well upon the violin1 and yet be coxcombs as long as they live1 let them converse with whom they please4 ,but to show that there is no evasion1 ,i shall prove1 that setting aside what ,i said of artificial courage already1 what the greatest heroe differs in from the rankest coward1 is altogether corporeal1 and depends upon the inward make of man4 ,what ,i mean is called constitution2 by which is understood the orderly or disorderly mixture of the fluids in our body3 that constitution which favours courage1 consists in the natural strength1 elasticity1 and due contexture of the finer spirits1 and upon them wholly depends what we call stedfastness1 resolution1 and obstinacy4 ,it is the only ingredient that is common to natural and artificial bravery1 and is to either what size is to white walls1 which hinders them from coming off1 and makes them lasting4 ,that some people are very much1 others very little frightened at things that are strange and sudden to them1 is likewise altogether owing to the firmness or imbecility in the tone of the spirits4 ,pride is of no use in a fright1 because while it lasts we cannot think1 which1 being counted a disgrace1 is the reason people is always angry with any thing that frightens them1 as soon as the surprise is over2 and when at the turn of a battle the conquerors give no quarter1 and are very cruel1 it is a sign their enemies fought well1 and had put them first into great fears4 ,that resolution depends upon this tone of the spirits1 appears likewise from the effects of strong liquors1 the fiery particles whereof crowding into the brain1 strengthen the spirits2 their operation imitates that of anger1 which ,i said before was an ebullition of the spirits4 ,it is for this reason1 that most people when they are in drink1 are sooner touched and more prone to anger1 than at other times1 and some raving mad without any provocation at all4 ,it is likewise observed1 that brandy makes men more quarrelsome at the same pitch of drunkenness than wine2 because the spirits of distilled waters have abundance of fiery particles mixed with them1 which the other has not4 ,the contexture of spirits is so weak in some1 that though they have pride enough1 no art can ever make them fight1 or overcome their fears2 but this is a defect in the principle of the fluids1 as other deformities are faults of the solids4 ,these pusillanimous people1 are never thoroughly provoked to anger1 where there is any danger1 and drinking makes them bolder1 but seldom so resolute as to attack any1 unless they be women or children1 or such who they know dare not resist4 ,this constitution is often influenced by health and sickness1 and impaired by great losses of blood2 sometimes it is corrected by diet2 and it is this which the ,duke de la ,rochefoucauld means1 when he says3 vanity1 shame1 and above all constitution1 make up very often the courage of men1 and virtue of women4 ,there is nothing that more improves the useful martial courage ,i treat of1 and at the same time shows it to be artificial1 than practice2 for when men are disciplined1 come to be acquainted with all the tools of death1 and engines of destruction1 when the shouts1 the outcries1 the fire and smoke1 the grones of wounded1 and ghostly looks of dying men1 with all the various scenes of mangled carcases and bloody limbs tore off1 begin to be familiar to them1 their fear abate apace2 not that they are now less afraid to die than before1 but being used so often to see the same dangers1 they apprehend the reality of them less than they did3 as they are deservedly valued for every siege they are at1 and every battle they are in1 it is impossible but the several actions they share in1 must continually become as many solid steps by which their pride mounts up2 and thus their fear of shame1 as ,i said before1 will always be proportioned to their pride1 increasing as the apprehension of the danger decreases1 it is no wonder that most of them learn to discover little or no fear3 and some great generals are able to preserve a presence of mind1 and counterfeit a calm serenity within the midst of all the noise1 horror1 and confusion1 that attend a battle4 ,so silly a creature is man1 as that1 intoxicated with the fumes of vanity1 he can feast on the thoughts of the praises that shall be paid his memory in future ages1 with so much ecstacy1 as to neglect his present life1 nay1 court and covet death1 if he but imagines that it will add to the glory he had acquired before4 ,there is no pitch of self-denial1 that a man of pride and constitution cannot reach1 nor any passion so violent but he will sacrifice it to another1 which is superior to it2 and here ,i cannot but admire at the simplicity of some good men1 who1 when they hear of the joy and alacrity with which holy men in persecutions have suffered for their faith1 imagine that such constancy must exceed all human force1 unless it was supported by some miraculous assistance from ,heaven4 ,as most people are willing to acknowledge all the frailties of their species1 so they are unacquainted with the strength of our nature1 and know not that some men of firm constitution may work themselves up into enthusiasm1 by no other help than the violence of their passions2 yet1 it is certain1 that there have been men who only assisted with pride and constitution to maintain the worst of causes1 have undergone death and torments1 with as much cheerfulness as the best of men1 animated with piety and devotion1 ever did for the true religion4 ,to prove this assertion1 ,i could produce many instances2 but one or two will be sufficient4 ,jordanus ,bruno of ,nola1 who wrote that silly piece of blasphemy1 called ,spaccio della ,bestia triumphante1 and the infamous ,vanini1 were both executed for openly professing and teaching of atheism3 the latter might have been pardoned the moment before the execution1 if he would have retracted his doctrine2 but rather than recant1 he chose to be burnt to ashes4 ,as he went to the stake1 he was so far from showing any concern1 that he held his hand out to a physician whom he happened to know1 desiring him to judge of the calmness of his mind by the regularity of his pulse1 and from thence taking an opportunity of making an impious comparison1 uttered a sentence too execrable to be mentioned4 ,to these we may join one ,mahomet ,effendi1 who1 as ,sir ,paul ,ricaut tells us1 was put to death at ,constantinople1 for having advanced some notions against the existence of a ,god4 ,he likewise might have saved his life by confessing his error1 and renouncing it for the future2 but chose rather to persist in his blasphemies1 saying1 ,though he had no reward to expect1 the love of truth constrained him to suffer martyrdom in its defence4 ,i have made this digression chiefly to show the strength of human nature1 and what mere man may perform by pride and constitution alone4 ,man may certainly be as violently roused by his vanity1 as a lion is by his anger2 and not only this1 avarice1 revenge1 ambition1 and almost every passion1 pity not excepted1 when they are extraordinary1 may1 by overcoming fear1 serve him instead of valour1 and be mistaken for it even by himself2 as daily experience must teach every body that will examine and look into the motives from which some men act4 ,but that we may more clearly perceive what this pretended principle is really built upon1 let us look into the management of military affairs1 and we shall find that pride is no where so openly encouraged as there4 ,as for clothes1 the very lowest of the commission officers have them richer1 or at least more gay and splendid1 than are generally wore by other people of four or five times their income4 ,most of them1 and especially those that have families1 and can hardly subsist1 would be very glad1 all ,europe over1 to be less expensive that way2 but it is a force put upon them to uphold their pride1 which they do not think on4 ,but the ways and means to rouse man's pride1 and catch him by it1 are nowhere more grossly conspicuous1 than in the treatment which the common soldiers receive1 whose vanity is to be worked upon 7because there must be so many7 at the cheapest rate imaginable4 ,things we are accustomed to we do not mind1 or else what mortal that never had seen a soldier1 could look without laughing upon a man accoutred with so much paltry gaudiness1 and affected finery8 ,the coarsest manufacture that can be made of wool1 dyed of a brickdust colour1 goes down with him1 because it is in imitation of scarlet or crimson cloth2 and to make him think himself as like his officer as it is possible1 with little or no cost1 instead of silver or gold lace1 his hat is trimmed with white or yellow worsted1 which in others would deserve bedlam2 yet these fine allurements1 and the noise made upon a calf's skin1 have drawn in1 and been the destruction of more men in reality1 than all the killing eyes and bewitching voices of women ever slew in jest4 ,to-day the swine herd puts on his red coat1 and believes every body in earnest that calls him gentleman2 and two days after ,serjeant ,kite gives him a swinging wrap with his cane1 for holding his musket an inch higher than he should do4 ,as to the real dignity of the employment1 in the two last wars1 officers1 when recruits were wanted1 were allowed to list fellows that were convicted of burglary and other capital crimes1 which shows that to be made a soldier is deemed to be a preferment next to hanging4 ,a trooper is yet worse than a foot soldier2 for when he is most at ease1 he has the mortification of being groom to a horse1 that spends more money than himself4 ,when a man reflects on all this1 the usage they generally receive from their officers1 their pay1 and the care that is taken of them1 when they are not wanted1 must he not wonder how wretches can be so silly as to be proud of being called gentlemen soldiers8 ,yet if there were not1 no art1 discipline1 or money1 would be capable of making them so brave as thousands of them are4 ,if we will mind what effects man's bravery1 without any other qualifications to sweeten him1 would have out of an army1 we shall find that it would be very pernicious to the civil society2 for if man could conquer all his fears1 you would hear of nothing but rapes1 murders1 and violences of all sorts1 and valiant men would be like giants in romances3 politics1 therefore1 discovered in men a mixed-metal principle1 which was a compound of justice1 honesty1 and all the moral virtues joined to courage1 and all that were possessed of it turned knights-errant of course4 ,they did abundance of good throughout the world1 by taming monsters1 delivering the distressed1 and killing the oppressors3 but the wings of all the dragons being clipped1 the giants destroyed1 and the damsels every where set at liberty1 except some few in ,spain and ,italy1 who remained still captivated by their monsters1 the order of chivalry1 to whom the standard of ancient honour belonged1 has been laid aside some time4 ,it was like their armours very massy and heavy2 the many virtues about it made it very troublesome1 and as ages grew wiser and wiser1 the principle of honour in the beginning of the last century was melted over again1 and brought to a new standard2 they put in the same weight of courage1 half the quantity of honesty1 and a very little justice1 but not a scrap of any other virtue1 which has made it very easy and portable to what it was4 ,however1 such as it is1 there would be no living without it in a large nation2 it is the tie of society1 and though we are beholden to our frailties for the chief ingredient of it1 there is no virtue1 at least that ,i am acquainted with1 that has been half so instrumental to the civilizing of mankind1 who in great societies would soon degenerate into cruel villains and treacherous slaves1 were honour to be removed from among them4 ,as to the duelling part which belongs to it1 ,i pity the unfortunate whose lot it is2 but to say1 that those who are guilty of it go by false rules1 or mistake the notions of honour1 is ridiculous2 for either there is no honour at all1 or it teaches men to resent injuries1 and accept of challenges4 ,you may as well deny that it is the fashion what you see every body wear1 as to say that demanding and giving satisfaction is against the laws of true honour4 ,those that rail at duelling do not consider the benefit the society receives from that fashion3 if every ill-bred fellow might use what language he pleased1 without being called to an account for it1 all conversation would be spoiled4 ,some grave people tell us1 that the ,greeks and ,romans were such valiant men1 and yet knew nothing of duelling but in their country's quarrel4 ,this is very true1 but1 for that reason1 the kings and princes in ,homer gave one another worse language than our porters and hackney coachmen would be able to bear without resentment4 ,would you hinder duelling1 pardon nobody that offends that way1 and make the laws as severe as you can1 but do not take away the thing itself1 the custom of it4 ,this will not only prevent the frequency of it1 but likewise1 by rendering the most resolute and most powerful cautious and circumspect in their behaviour1 polish and brighten society in general4 ,nothing civilizes a man equally as his fear1 and if not all 7as my lord ,rochester said71 at least most men would be cowards if they durst4 ,the dread of being called to an account keeps abundance in awe2 and there are thousands of mannerly and well-accomplished gentlemen in ,europe1 who would have been insolent and insupportable coxcombs without it3 besides1 if it was out of fashion to ask satisfaction for injuries which the law cannot take hold of1 there would be twenty times the mischief done there is now1 or else you must have twenty times the constables and other officers to keep the peace4 ,i confess that though it happens but seldom1 it is a calamity to the people1 and generally the families it falls upon2 but there can be no perfect happiness in this world1 and all felicity has an allay4 ,the act itself is uncharitable1 but when above thirty in a nation destroy themselves in one year1 and not half that number are killed by others1 ,i do not think the people can be said to love their neighbours worse than themselves4 ,it is strange that a nation should grudge to see1 perhaps1 half-a-dozen men sacrificed in a twelvemonth to obtain so valuable a blessing1 as the politeness of manners1 the pleasure of conversation1 and the happiness of company in general1 that is often so willing to expose1 and sometimes loses as many thousands in a few hours1 without knowing whether it will do any good or not4 ,i would have nobody that reflects on the mean original of honour1 complain of being gulled and made a property by cunning politicians1 but desire every body to be satisfied1 that the governors of societies1 and those in high stations1 are greater bubbles to pride than any of the rest4 ,if some great men had not a superlative pride1 and every body understood the enjoyment of life1 who would be a lord chancellor of ,england1 a prime minister of state in ,france1 or what gives more fatigue1 and not a sixth part of the profit of either1 a grand pensionary of ,holland8 ,the reciprocal services which all men pay to one another1 are the foundation of the society4 ,the great ones are not flattered with their high birth for nothing3 it is to rouse their pride1 and excite them to glorious actions1 that we extol their race1 whether it deserves it or not2 and some men have been complimented with the greatness of their family1 and the merit of their ancestors1 when in the whole generation you could not find two but what were uxorious fools1 silly biggots1 noted poltrons1 or debauched whore-masters4 ,the established pride that is inseparable from those that are possessed of titles already1 makes them often strive as much not to seem unworthy of them1 as the working ambition of others that are yet without1 renders them industrious and indefatigable to deserve them4 ,when a gentleman is made a baron or an earl1 it is as great a check upon him in many respects1 as a gown and cassock are to a young student that has been newly taken into orders4 ,the only thing of weight that can be said against modern honour is1 that it is directly opposite to religion4 ,the one bids you bear injuries with patience2 the other tells you if you do not resent them1 you are not fit to live4 ,religion commands you to leave all revenge to ,god2 honour bids you trust your revenge to nobody but yourself1 even where the law would do it for you3 religion plainly forbids murder2 honour openly justifies it3 religion bids you not shed blood upon any account whatever2 honour bids you fight for the least trifle3 religion is built on humility1 and honour upon pride3 how to reconcile them must be left to wiser heads than mine4 ,the reason why there are so few men of real virtue1 and so many of real honour1 is1 because all the recompence a man has of a virtuous action1 is the pleasure of doing it1 which most people reckon but poor pay2 but the self-denial a man of honour submits to in one appetite1 is immediately rewarded by the satisfaction he receives from another1 and what he abates of his avarice1 or any other passion1 is doubly repaid to his pride3 besides1 honour gives large grains of allowance1 and virtue none4 ,a man of honour must not cheat or tell a lie2 he must punctually repay what he borrows at play1 though the creditor has nothing to show for it2 but he may drink1 and swear1 and owe money to all the tradesmen in town1 without taking notice of their dunning4 ,a man of honour must be true to his prince and country1 while he is in their service2 but if he thinks himself not well used1 he may quit it1 and do them all the mischief he can4 ,a man of honour must never change his religion for interest2 but he may be as debauched as he pleases1 and never practise any4 ,he must make no attempts upon his friend's wife1 daughter1 sister1 or any body that is trusted to his care2 but he may lie with all the world besides4 ,line #cec4 ,no limner for his art is fam'd1 ,stone-cutters1 carvers are not nam'd4 ,it is1 without doubt1 that among the consequences of a national honesty and frugality1 it would be one not to build any new houses1 or use new materials as long as there were old ones enough to serve4 ,by this three parts in four1 of masons1 carpenters1 bricklayers1 c4 would want employment2 and the building trade being once destroyed1 what would become of limning1 carving1 and other arts that are ministering to luxury1 and have been carefully forbid by those lawgivers that preferred a good and honest1 to a great and wealthy society1 and endeavoured to render their subjects rather virtuous than rich4 ,by a law of ,lycurgus1 it was enacted1 that the ceilings of the ,spartan houses should only be wrought by the ax1 and their gates and doors only smoothed by the saw2 and this1 says ,plutarch1 was not without mystery3 for if ,epaminondas could say with so good a grace1 inviting some of his friends to his table3 ,come1 gentlemen1 be secure1 treason would never come to such a poor dinner as this3 ,why might not this great lawgiver1 in all probability1 have thought that such ill-favoured houses would never be capable of receiving luxury and superfluity8 ,it is reported1 as the same author tells us1 that ,leotichidas1 the first of that name1 was so little used to the sight of carved work1 that being entertained at ,corinth in a stately room1 he was much surprised to see the timber and ceiling so finely wrought1 and asked his host whether the trees grew so in his country4 ,the same want of employment would reach innumerable callings2 and1 among the rest1 that of the ,weavers that join'd rich silk with plate1 ,and all the trades subordinate1 7as the fable has it7 would be one of the first that should have reason to complain2 for the price of land and houses being1 by the removal of the vast numbers that had left the hive1 sunk very low on the one side1 and every body abhorring all other ways of gain1 but such as were strictly honest on the other1 it is not probable that many without pride or prodigality should be able to wear cloth of gold and silver1 or rich brocades4 ,the consequence of which would be1 that not only the weaver1 but likewise the silver-spinner1 the flatter1 the wire-drawer1 the bar-man1 and the refiner1 would1 in a little time be affected with this frugality4 ,line #cfg4 ----,to live great1 ,had made her husband rob the state4 ,what our common rogues1 when they are going to be hanged1 chiefly complain of1 as the cause of their untimely end1 is1 next to the neglect of the ,sabbath1 their having kept company with ill women1 meaning whores2 and ,i do not question1 but that among the lesser villains1 many venture their necks to indulge and satisfy their low amours4 ,but the words that have given occasion to this remark1 may serve to hint to us1 that among the great ones1 men are often put upon such dangerous projects1 and forced into such pernicious measures by their wives1 as the most subtle mistress never could have persuaded them to4 ,i have shown already1 that the worst of women1 and most profligate of the sex1 did contribute to the consumption of superfluities1 as well as the necessaries of life1 and consequently were beneficial to many peaceable drudges1 that work hard to maintain their families1 and have no worse design than an honest livelihood4 ,let them be banished1 notwithstanding1 says a good man3 ,when every strumpet is gone1 and the land wholly freed from lewdness1 ,god ,almighty will pour such blessings upon it1 as will vastly exceed the profits that are now got by harlots4 ,this perhaps would be true2 but ,i can make it evident1 that1 with or without prostitutes1 nothing could make amends1 for the detriment trade would sustain1 if all those of that sex1 who enjoy the happy state of matrimony1 should act and behave themselves as a sober wise man could wish them4 ,the variety of work that is performed1 and the number of hands employed to gratify the fickleness and luxury of women1 is prodigious1 and if only the married ones should hearken to reason and just remonstrances1 think themselves sufficiently answered with the first refusal1 and never ask a second time what had been once denied them3 ,if1 ,i say1 married women would do this1 and then lay out no money but what their husbands knew1 and freely allowed of1 the consumption of a thousand things1 they now make use of1 would be lessened by at least a fourth part4 ,let us go from house to house1 and observe the way of the world only among the middling people1 creditable shop-keepers1 that spend two or three hundred a-year1 and we shall find the women when they have half a score suits of clothes1 two or three of them not the worse for wearing1 will think it a sufficient plea for new ones1 if they can say that they have never a gown or petticoat1 but what they have been often seen in1 and are known by1 especially at church2 ,i do not speak now of profuse extravagant women1 but such as are counted prudent and moderate in their desires4 ,if by this pattern we should in proportion judge of the highest ranks1 where the richest clothes are but a trifle to their other expences1 and not forget the furniture of all sorts1 equipages1 jewels1 and buildings of persons of quality1 we should find the fourth part ,i speak of a vast article in trade1 and that the loss of it would be a greater calamity to such a nation as ours1 than it is possible to conceive any other1 a raging pestilence not excepted3 for the death of half a million of people could not cause a tenth part of the disturbance to the kingdom1 than the same number of poor unemployed would certainly create1 if at once they were to be added to those1 that already1 one way or other1 are a burden to the society4 ,some few men have a real passion for their wives1 and are fond of them without reserve2 others that do not care1 and have little occasion for women1 are yet seemingly uxorious1 and love out of vanity2 they take delight in a handsome wife1 as a coxcomb does in a fine horse1 not for the use he makes of it1 but because it is his3 ,the pleasure lies in the consciousness of an uncontrolable possession1 and what follows from it1 the reflection on the mighty thoughts he imagines others to have of his happiness4 ,the men of either sort may be very lavish to their wives1 and often preventing their wishes1 crowd new clothes1 and other finery upon them1 faster than they can ask it1 but the greatest part are wiser1 than to indulge the extravagances of their wives so far1 as to give them immediately every thing they are pleased to fancy4 ,it is incredible what vast quantity of trinkets1 as well as apparel1 are purchased and used by women1 which they could never have come at by any other means1 than pinching their families1 marketing1 and other ways of cheating and pilfering from their husbands3 ,others1 by ever teazing their spouses1 tire them into compliance1 and conquer even obstinate churls by perseverance1 and their assiduity of asking3 ,a third sort are outrageous at a denial1 and by downright noise and scolding1 bully their tame fools out of any thing they have a mind to2 while thousands1 by the force of wheedling1 know how to overcome the best weighed reasons1 and the most positive reiterated refusals2 the young and beautiful1 especially1 laugh at all remonstrances and denials1 and few of them scruple to employ the most tender minutes of wedlock to promote a sordid interest4 ,here1 had ,i time1 ,i could inveigh with warmth against those base1 those wicked women1 who calmly play their arts and false deluding charms against our strength and prudence1 and act the harlots with their husbands6 ,nay1 she is worse than whore1 who impiously profanes and prostitutes the sacred rites of love to vile ignoble ends2 that first excites to passion1 and invites to joy with seeming ardour1 then racks our fondness for no other purpose than to extort a gift1 while full of guile in counterfeited transports1 she watches for the moment when men can least deny4 ,i beg pardon for this start out of my way1 and desire the experienced reader duly to weigh what has been said as to the main purpose1 and after that call to mind the temporal blessings1 which men daily hear not only toasted and wished for1 when people are merry and doing of nothing2 but likewise gravely and solemnly prayed for in churches1 and other religious assemblies1 by clergymen of all sorts and sizes3 ,and as soon as he shall have laid these things together1 and1 from what he has observed in the common affairs of life1 reasoned upon them consequentially without prejudice1 ,i dare flatter myself1 that he will be obliged to own1 that a considerable portion of what the prosperity of ,london and trade in general1 and consequently the honour1 strength1 safety1 and all the worldly interest of the nation consist in1 depend entirely on the deceit and vile stratagems of women2 and that humility1 content1 meekness1 obedience to reasonable husbands1 frugality1 and all the virtues together1 if they were possessed of them in the most eminent degree1 could not possibly be a thousandth part so serviceable1 to make an opulent1 powerful1 and what we call a flourishing kingdom1 than their most hateful qualities4 ,i do not question1 but many of my readers will be startled at this assertion1 when they look on the consequences that may be drawn from it2 and ,i shall be asked1 whether people may not as well be virtuous in a populous1 rich1 wide1 extended kingdom1 as in a small1 indigent state or principality1 that is poorly inhabited8 ,and if that be impossible1 ,whether it is not the duty of all sovereigns to reduce their subjects1 as to wealth and numbers1 as much as they can8 ,if ,i allow they may1 ,i own myself in the wrong2 and if ,i affirm the other1 my tenets will justly be called impious1 or at least dangerous to all large societies4 ,as it is not in this place of the book only1 but a great many others1 that such queries might be made even by a well-meaning reader1 ,i shall here explain myself1 and endeavour to solve those difficulties1 which several passages might have raised in him1 in order to demonstrate the consistency of my opinion to reason1 and the strictest morality4 ,i lay down as a first principle1 that in all societies1 great or small1 it is the duty of every member of it to be good1 that virtue ought to be encouraged1 vice discountenanced1 the laws obeyed1 and the transgressors punished4 ,after this ,i affirm1 that if we consult history1 both ancient and modern1 and take a view of what has passed in the world1 we shall find that human nature1 since the fall of ,adam1 has always been the same1 and that the strength and frailties of it have ever been conspicuous in one part of the globe or other1 without any regard to ages1 climates1 or religion4 ,i never said1 nor imagined1 that man could not be virtuous as well in a rich and mighty kingdom1 as in the most pitiful commonwealth2 but ,i own it is my sense1 that no society can be raised into such a rich and mighty kingdom1 or so raised1 subsist in their wealth and power for any considerable time1 without the vices of man4 ,this1 ,i imagine1 is sufficiently proved throughout the book2 and as human nature still continues the same1 as it has always been for so many thousand years1 we have no great reason to suspect a future change in it1 while the world endures4 ,now1 ,i cannot see what immorality there is in showing a man the origin and power of those passions1 which so often1 even unknowingly to himself1 hurry him away from his reason2 or that there is any impiety in putting him upon his guard against himself1 and the secret stratagems of self-love1 and teaching him the difference between such actions as proceed from a victory over the passions1 and those that are only the result of a conquest which one passion obtains over another2 that is1 between real and counterfeited virtue4 ,it is an admirable saying of a worthy divine1 ,that though many discoveries have been made in the world of self-love1 there is yet abundance of terra incognita left behind4 ,what hurt do ,i do to man1 if ,i make him more known to himself than he was before8 ,but we are all so desperately in love with flattery1 that we can never relish a truth that is mortifying1 and ,i do not believe that the immortality of the soul1 a truth broached long before ,christianity1 would have ever found such a general reception in human capacities as it has1 had it not been a pleasing one1 that extolled1 and was a compliment to the whole species1 the meanest and most miserable not excepted4 ,every one loves to hear the thing well spoke of that he has a share in1 even bailiffs1 gaol-keepers1 and the hangman himself would have you think well of their functions2 nay1 thieves and house breakers have a greater regard to those of their fraternity1 than they have for honest people2 and ,i sincerely believe1 that it is chiefly self-love that has gained this little treatise 7as it was before the last impression71 so many enemies2 every one looks upon it as an affront done to himself1 because it detracts from the dignity1 and lessens the fine notions he had conceived of mankind1 the most worshipful company he belongs to4 ,when ,i say that societies cannot be raised to wealth and power1 and the top of earthly glory1 without vices1 ,i do not think that1 by so saying1 ,i bid men be vicious1 any more than ,i bid them be quarrelsome or covetous1 when ,i affirm that the profession of the law could not be maintained in such numbers and splendor1 if there was not abundance of too selfish and litigious people4 ,but as nothing would more clearly demonstrate the falsity of my notions1 than that the generality of the people should fall in with them1 so ,i do not expect the approbation of the multitude4 ,i write not to many1 nor seek for any well-wishers1 but among the few that can think abstractly1 and have their minds elevated above the vulgar4 ,if ,i have shown the way to worldly greatness1 ,i have always1 without hesitation1 preferred the road that leads to virtue4 ,would you banish fraud and luxury1 prevent profaneness and irreligion1 and make the generality of the people charitable1 good1 and virtuous2 break down the printing-presses1 melt the founds1 and burn all the books in the island1 except those at the universities1 where they remain unmolested1 and suffer no volume in private hands but a ,bible3 knock down foreign trade1 prohibit all commerce with strangers1 and permit no ships to go to sea1 that ever will return1 beyond fisher-boats4 ,restore to the clergy1 the king and the barons their ancient privileges1 prerogatives1 and professions3 build new churches1 and convert all the coin you can come at into sacred utensils3 erect monasteries and alms-houses in abundance1 and let no parish be without a charity-school4 ,enact sumptuary laws1 and let your youth be inured to hardship3 inspire them with all the nice and most refined notions of honour and shame1 of friendship and of heroism1 and introduce among them a great variety of imaginary rewards3 then let the clergy preach abstinence and self-denial to others1 and take what liberty they please for themselves2 let them bear the greatest sway in the management of state-affairs1 and no man be made lord-treasurer but a bishop4 ,but by such pious endeavours1 and wholesome regulations1 the scene would be soon altered2 the greatest part of the covetous1 the discontented1 the restless and ambitious villains1 would leave the land2 vast swarms of cheating knaves would abandon the city1 and be dispersed throughout the country3 artificers would learn to hold the plough1 merchants turn farmers1 and the sinful overgrown ,jerusalem1 without famine1 war1 pestilence1 or compulsion1 be emptied in the most easy manner1 and ever after cease to be dreadful to her sovereigns4 ,the happy reformed kingdom would by this means be crowded in no part of it1 and every thing necessary for the sustenance of man1 be cheap and abound3 on the contrary1 the root of so many thousand evils1 money1 would be very scarce1 and as little wanted1 where every man should enjoy the fruits of his own labour1 and our own dear manufacture unmixed1 be promiscuously wore by the lord and the peasant4 ,it is impossible1 that such a change of circumstances should not influence the manners of a nation1 and render them temperate1 honest1 and sincere2 and from the next generation we might reasonably expect a more healthy and robust offspring than the present2 an harmless1 innocent1 and well-meaning people1 that would never dispute the doctrine of passive obedience1 nor any other orthodox principles1 but be submissive to superiors1 and unanimous in religious worship4 ,here ,i fancy myself interrupted by an ,epicure1 who1 not to want a restorative diet in case of necessity1 is never without live ortolans2 and ,i am told that goodness and probity are to be had at a cheaper rate than the ruin of a nation1 and the destruction of all the comforts of life2 that liberty and property may be maintained without wickedness or fraud1 and men be good subjects without being slaves1 and religious though they refused to be priest-rid2 that to be frugal and saving is a duty incumbent only on those1 whose circumstances require it1 but that a man of a good estate does his country a service by living up to the income of it2 that as to himself1 he is so much master of his appetites1 that he can abstain from any thing upon occasion2 that where true ,hermitage was not to be had1 he could content himself with plain ,bourdeaux1 if it had a good body2 that many a morning1 instead of ,st4 ,lawrence1 he has made a shift with ,fronteniac1 and after dinner given ,cyprus wine1 and even ,madeira1 when he has had a large company1 and thought it extravagant to treat with ,tockay2 but that all voluntary mortifications are superstitious1 only belonging to blind zealots and enthusiasts4 ,he will quote my ,lord ,shaftsbury against me1 and tell me that people may be virtuous and sociable without self-denial2 that it is an affront to virtue to make it inaccessible1 that ,i make a bugbear of it to frighten men from it as a thing impracticable2 but that for his part he can praise ,god1 and at the same time enjoy his creatures with a good conscience2 neither will he forget any thing to his purpose of what ,i have said1 page #ff4 ,he will ask me at last1 whether the legislature1 the wisdom of the nation itself1 while they endeavour as much as possible1 to discourage profaneness and immorality1 and promote the glory of ,god1 do not openly profess1 at the same time1 to have nothing more at heart1 than the ease and welfare of the subject1 the wealth1 strength1 honour1 and what else is called the true interest of the country8 and1 moreover1 whether the most devout and most learned of our prelates1 in their greatest concern for our conversion1 when they beseech the ,deity to turn their own as well as our hearts1 from the world and all carnal desires1 do not in the same prayer as loudly solicit him to pour all earthly blessings and temporal felicity1 on the kingdom they belong to8 ,these are the apologies1 the excuses1 and common pleas1 not only of those who are notoriously vicious1 but the generality of mankind1 when you touch the copy-hold of their inclinations2 and trying the real value they have for spirituals1 would actually strip them of what their minds are wholly bent upon4 ,ashamed of the many frailties they feel within1 all men endeavour to hide themselves1 their ugly nakedness1 from each other1 and wrapping up the true motives of their hearts1 in the specious cloak of sociableness1 and their concern for the public good1 they are in hopes of concealing their filthy appetites1 and the deformity of their desires2 while they are conscious within of the fondness for their darling lusts1 and their incapacity1 bare-faced1 to tread the arduous1 rugged path of virtue4 ,as to the two last questions1 ,i own they are very puzzling3 to what the ,epicure asks1 ,i am obliged to answer in the affirmative2 and unless ,i would 7which ,god forbid67 arraign the sincerity of kings1 bishops1 and the whole legislative power1 the objection stands good against me3 all ,i can say for myself is1 that in the connection of the facts1 there is a mystery past human understanding2 and to convince the reader1 that this is no evasion1 ,i shall illustrate the incomprehensibility of it in the following parable4 ,in old heathen times1 there was1 they say1 a whimsical country1 where the people talked much of religion1 and the greatest part1 as to outward appearance1 seemed really devout3 the chief moral evil among them was thirst1 and to quench it a damnable sin2 yet they unanimously agreed that every one was born thirsty1 more or less3 small beer in moderation was allowed to all1 and he was counted an hypocrite1 a cynic1 or a madman1 who pretended that one could live altogether without it2 yet those1 who owned they loved it1 and drank it to excess1 were counted wicked4 ,all this1 while the beer itself was reckoned a blessing from ,heaven1 and there was no harm in the use of it2 all the enormity lay in the abuse1 the motive of the heart1 that made them drink it4 ,he that took the least drop of it to quench his thirst1 committed a heinous crime1 while others drank large quantities without any guilt1 so they did it indifferently1 and for no other reason than to mend their complexion4 ,they brewed for other countries as well as their own1 and for the small beer they sent abroad1 they received large returns of ,westphalia-hams1 neats tongues1 hung-beef1 and ,bologna sausages1 red-herrings1 pickled sturgeon1 caviar1 anchovies1 and every thing that was proper to make their liquor go down with pleasure4 ,those who kept great stores of small beer by them without making use of it1 were generally envied1 and at the same time very odious to the public1 and nobody was easy that had not enough of it come to his own share4 ,the greatest calamity they thought could befal them1 was to keep their hops and barley upon their hands1 and the more they yearly consumed of them1 the more they reckoned the country to flourish4 ,the government had many very wise regulations concerning the returns that were made for their exports1 encouraged very much the importation of salt and pepper1 and laid heavy duties on every thing that was not well seasoned1 and might any ways obstruct the sale of their own hops and barley4 ,those at helm1 when they acted in public1 showed themselves on all accounts exempt and wholly divested from thirst1 made several laws to prevent the growth of it1 and punish the wicked who openly dared to quench it4 ,if you examined them in their private persons1 and pryed narrowly into their lives and conversations1 they seemed to be more fond1 or at least drank larger draughts of small beer than others1 but always under pretence that the mending of complexions required greater quantities of liquor in them1 than it did in those they ruled over2 and that1 what they had chiefly at heart1 without any regard to themselves1 was to procure great plenty of small beer1 among the subjects in general1 and a great demand for their hops and barley4 ,as nobody was debarred from small beer1 the clergy made use of it as well as the laity1 and some of them very plentifully2 yet all of them desired to be thought less thirsty by their function than others1 and never would own that they drank any but to mend their complexions4 ,in their religious assemblies they were more sincere2 for as soon as they came there1 they all openly confessed1 the clergy as well as the laity1 from the highest to the lowest1 that they were thirsty1 that mending their complexions was what they minded the least1 and that all their hearts were set upon small beer and quenching their thirst1 whatever they might pretend to the contrary4 ,what was remarkable1 is1 that to have laid hold of those truths to any ones prejudice1 and made use of those confessions afterwards out of their temples1 would be counted very impertinent1 and every body thought it an heinous affront to be called thirsty1 though you had seen him drink small beer by whole gallons4 ,the chief topics of their preachers1 was the great evil of thirst1 and the folly there was in quenching it4 ,they exhorted their hearers to resist the temptations of it1 inveighed against small beer1 and often told them it was poison1 if they drank it with pleasure1 or any other design than to mend their complexions4 ,in their acknowledgments to the gods1 they thanked them for the plenty of comfortable small beer they had received from them1 notwithstanding they had so little deserved it1 and continually quenched their thirst with it2 whereas1 they were so thoroughly satisfied1 that it was given them for a better use4 ,having begged pardon for those offences1 they desired the gods to lessen their thirst1 and give them strength to resist the importunities of it2 yet1 in the midst of their sorest repentance1 and most humble supplications1 they never forgot small beer1 and prayed that they might continue to have it in great plenty1 with a solemn promise1 that how neglectful soever they might hitherto have been in this point1 they would for the future not drink a drop of it1 with any other design than to mend their complexions4 ,these were standing petitions put together to last2 and having continued to be made use of without any alterations1 for several hundred years together2 it was thought by some1 that the gods1 who understood futurity1 and knew that the same promise they heard in ,june1 would be made to them the ,january following1 did not rely much more on those vows1 than we do on those waggish inscriptions by which men offer us their goods2 to-day for money1 and to-morrow for nothing4 ,they often began their prayers very mystically1 and spoke many things in a spiritual sense2 yet1 they never were so abstract from the world in them1 as to end one without beseeching the gods to bless and prosper the brewing trade in all its branches1 and for the good of the whole1 more and more to increase the consumption of hops and barley4 ,line #chh4 ,content1 the bane of industry4 ,i have been told by many1 that the bane of industry is laziness1 and not content2 therefore to prove my assertion1 which seems a paradox to some1 ,i shall treat of laziness and content separately1 and afterwards speak of industry1 that the reader may judge which it is of the two former1 that is opposite to the latter4 ,laziness is an aversion to business1 generally attended with an unreasonable desire of remaining unactive2 and every body is lazy1 who1 without being hindered by any other warrantable employment1 refuses or puts off any business which he ought to do for himself or others4 ,we seldom call any body lazy1 but such as we reckon inferior to us1 and of whom we expect some service4 ,children do not think their parents lazy1 nor servants their masters2 and if a gentleman indulges his ease and sloth so abominably1 that he will not put on his own shoes1 though he is young and slender1 nobody shall call him lazy for it1 if he can keep but a footman1 or some body else to do it for him4 ,mr4 ,dryden has given us a very good idea of superlative slothfulness1 in the person of a luxurious king of ,egypt4 ,his majesty having bestowed some considerable gifts on several of his favourites1 is attended by some of his chief ministers with a parchment1 which he was to sign to confirm those grants4 ,first1 he walks a few turns to and fro1 with a heavy uneasiness in his looks1 then sets himself down like a man that is tired1 and1 at last1 with abundance of reluctancy to what he was going about1 he takes up the pen1 and falls a complaining very seriously of the length of the word ,ptolemy1 and expresses a great deal of concern1 that he had not some short monosyllable for his name1 which he thought would save him a world of trouble4 ,we often reproach others with laziness1 because we are guilty of it ourselves4 ,some days ago1 as two young women sat knotting together1 says one to the other1 there comes a wicked cold through that door2 you are the nearest to it1 sister1 pray shut it4 ,the other1 who was the youngest1 vouchsafed1 indeed1 to cast an eye towards the door1 but sat still1 and said nothing2 the eldest spoke again two or three times1 and at last the other making her no answer1 nor offering to stir1 she got up in a pet1 and shut the door herself2 coming back to sit down again1 she gave the younger a very hard look2 and said1 ,lord1 sister ,betty1 ,i would not be so lazy as you are for all the world2 which she spoke so earnestly1 that it brought a colour in her face4 ,the youngest should have risen1 ,i own2 but if the eldest had not overvalued her labour1 she would have shut the door herself1 as soon as the cold was offensive to her1 without making any words of it4 ,she was not above a step farther from the door than her sister1 and as to age1 there was not eleven months difference between them1 and they were both under twenty4 ,i thought it a hard matter to determine which was the laziest of the two4 ,there are a thousand wretches that are always working the marrow out of their bones for next to nothing1 because they are unthinking and ignorant of what the pains they take are worth3 while others who are cunning1 and understand the true value of their work1 refuse to be employed at under rates1 not because they are of an unactive temper1 but because they will not beat down the price of their labour4 ,a country gentleman sees at the back side of the ,exchange a porter walking to and fro with his hands in his pockets4 ,pray1 says he1 friend1 will you step for me with this letter as far as ,bow-church1 and ,i will give you a penny8 ,i will go with all my heart1 says the other1 but ,i must have twopence1 master2 which the gentleman refusing to give1 the fellow turned his back1 and told him1 he would rather play for nothing than work for nothing4 ,the gentleman thought it an unaccountable piece of laziness in a porter1 rather to saunter up and down for nothing1 than to be earning a penny with as little trouble4 ,some hours after he happened to be with some friends at a tavern in ,threadneedle-street1 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 night1 was in great perplexity1 and immediately wanted some body to go for him to ,hackney with all the speed imaginable4 ,it was after ten1 in the middle of winter1 a very rainy night1 and all the porters thereabouts were gone to bed4 ,the gentleman grew very uneasy1 and said1 whatever it cost him1 that somebody he must send2 at last one of the drawers seeing him so very pressing1 told him that he knew a porter1 who would rise1 if it was a job worth his while4 ,worth his while1 said the gentleman very eagerly1 do not doubt of that1 good lad1 if you know of any body1 let him make what haste he can1 and ,i will give him a crown if he be back by twelve o'clock4 ,upon this the drawer took the errand1 left the room1 and in less than a quarter of an hour1 came back with the welcome news that the message would be dispatched with all expedition4 ,the company in the mean time1 diverted themselves as they had done before2 but when it began to be towards twelve1 the watches were pulled out1 and the porter's return was all the discourse4 ,some were of opinion he might yet come before the clock had struck2 others thought it impossible1 and now it wanted but three minutes of twelve1 when in comes the nimble messenger smoking hot1 with his clothes as wet as dung with the rain1 and his head all over in a bath of sweat4 ,he had nothing dry about him but the inside of his pocket-book1 out of which he took the bill he had been for1 and by the drawer's direction1 presented it to the gentleman it belonged to2 who1 being very well pleased with the dispatch he had made1 gave him the crown he had promised1 while another filled him a bumper1 and the whole company commended his diligence4 ,as the fellow came nearer the light1 to take up the wine1 the country gentleman ,i mentioned at first1 to his great admiration1 knew him to be the same porter that had refused to earn his penny1 and whom he thought the laziest mortal alive4 ,the story teaches us1 that we ought not to confound those who remain unemployed for want of an opportunity of exerting themselves to the best advantage1 with such as for want of spirit1 hug themselves in their sloth1 and will rather starve than stir4 ,without this caution1 we must pronounce all the world more or less lazy1 according to their estimation of the reward they are to purchase with their labour1 and then the most industrious may be called lazy4 ,content1 ,i call that calm serenity of the mind1 which men enjoy while they think themselves happy1 and rest satisfied with the station they are in3 ,it implies a favourable construction of our present circumstances1 and a peaceful tranquillity1 which men are strangers to as long as they are solicitous about mending their condition4 ,this is a virtue of which the applause is very precarious and uncertain3 for1 according as mens circumstances vary1 they will either be blamed or commended for being possessed of it4 ,a single man that works hard at a laborious trade1 has a hundred a year left him by a relation3 this change of fortune makes him soon weary of working1 and not having industry enough to put himself forward in the world1 he resolves to do nothing at all1 and live upon his income4 ,as long as he lives within compass1 pays for what he has1 and offends nobody1 he shall be called an honest quiet man4 ,the victualler1 his landlady1 the tailor1 and others1 divide what he has between them1 and the society is every year the better for his revenue2 whereas1 if he should follow his own or any other trade1 he must hinder others1 and some body would have the less for what he should get2 and therefore1 though he should be the idlest fellow in the world1 lie a-bed fifteen hours in four and twenty1 and do nothing but sauntering up and down all the rest of the time1 nobody would discommend him1 and his unactive spirit is honoured with the name of content4 ,but if the same man marries1 gets three or four children1 and still continues of the same easy temper1 rests satisfied with what he has1 and without endeavouring to get a penny1 indulges his former sloth3 first1 his relations1 afterwards1 all his acquaintance1 will be alarmed at his negligence3 they foresee that his income will not be sufficient to bring up so many children handsomely1 and are afraid1 some of them may1 if not a burden1 become a disgrace to them4 ,when these fears have been1 for some time1 whispered about from one to another1 his uncle ,gripe takes him to task1 and accosts him in the following cant3 ,what1 nephew1 no business yet6 fie upon it6 ,i cannot imagine how you do to spend your time2 if you will not work at your own trade1 there are fifty ways that a man may pick up a penny by3 you have a hundred a-year1 it is true1 but your charges increase every year1 and what must you do when your children are grown up8 ,i have a better estate than you myself1 and yet you do not see me leave off my business2 nay1 ,i declare it1 might ,i have the world ,i could not lead the life you do4 ,it is no business of mine1 ,i own1 but every body cries1 it is a shame for a young man1 as you are1 that has his limbs and his health1 should not turn his hands to something or other4 ,if these admonitions do not reform him in a little time1 and he continues half-a-year longer without employment1 he will become a discourse to the whole neighbourhood1 and for the same qualifications that once got him the name of a quiet contented man1 he shall be called the worst of husbands1 and the laziest fellow upon earth3 from whence it is manifest1 that when we pronounce actions good or evil1 we only regard the hurt or benefit the society receives from them1 and not the person who commits them4 7,see page #ag47 ,diligence and industry are often used promiscuously1 to signify the same thing1 but there is a great difference between them4 ,a poor wretch may want neither diligence nor ingenuity1 be a saving pains-taking man1 and yet without striving to mend his circumstances1 remain contented with the station he lives in2 but industry implies1 besides the other qualities1 a thirst after gain1 and an indefatigable desire of meliorating our condition4 ,when men think either the customary profits of their calling1 or else the share of business they have too small1 they have two ways to deserve the name of industrious2 and they must be either ingenious enough to find out uncommon1 and yet warrantable methods to increase their business or their profit1 or else supply that defect by a multiplicity of occupations4 ,if a tradesman takes care to provide his shop1 and gives due attendance to those that come to it1 he is a diligent man in his business2 but if1 besides that1 he takes particular pains to sell1 to the same advantage1 a better commodity than the rest of his neighbours1 or if1 by his obsequiousness1 or some other good quality1 getting into a large acquaintance1 he uses all possible endeavours of drawing customers to his house1 he then may be called industrious4 ,a cobbler1 though he is not employed half of his time1 if he neglects no business1 and makes dispatch when he has any1 is a diligent man2 but if he runs of errands when he has no work1 or makes but shoe-pins1 and serves as a watchman a-nights1 he deserves the name of industrious4 ,if what has been said in this remark be duly weighed1 we shall find either1 that laziness and content are very near a-kin1 or1 if there be a great difference between them1 that the latter is more contrary to industry than the former4 ,line #daj4 ,to make a great and honest hive4 ,this perhaps might be done where people are contented to be poor and hardy2 but if they would likewise enjoy their ease and the comforts of the world1 and be at once an opulent1 potent1 and flourishing1 as well as a warlike nation1 it is utterly impossible4 ,i have heard people speak of the mighty figure the ,spartans made above all the commonwealths of ,greece1 notwithstanding their uncommon frugality and other exemplary virtues4 ,but certainly there never was a nation whose greatness was more empty than theirs3 ,the splendor they lived in was inferior to that of a theatre1 and the only thing they could be proud of1 was1 that they enjoyed nothing4 ,they were1 indeed1 both feared and esteemed abroad3 they were so famed for valour and skill in martial affairs1 that their neighbours did not only court their friendship and assistance in their wars1 but were satisfied1 and thought themselves sure of the victory1 if they could but get a ,spartan general to command their armies4 ,but then their discipline was so rigid1 and their manner of living so austere and void of all comfort1 that the most temperate man among us would refuse to submit to the harshness of such uncouth laws4 ,there was a perfect equality among them3 gold and silver coin were cried down2 their current money was made of iron1 to render it of a great bulk1 and little worth3 ,to lay up twenty or thirty pounds1 required a pretty large chamber1 and to remove it1 nothing less than a yoke of oxen4 ,another remedy they had against luxury1 was1 that they were obliged to eat in common of the same meat1 and they so little allowed any body to dine1 or sup by himself at home1 that ,agis1 one of their kings1 having vanquished the ,athenians1 and sending for his commons at his return home 7because he desired privately to eat with his queen7 was refused by the ,polemarchi4 ,in training up their youth1 their chief care1 says ,plutarch1 was to make them good subjects1 to fit them to endure the fatigues of long and tedious marches1 and never to return without victory from the field4 ,when they were twelve years old1 they lodged in little bands1 upon beds made of the rushes1 which grew by the banks of the river ,eurotas2 and because their points were sharp1 they were to break them off with their hands without a knife3 ,if it were a hard winter1 they mingled some thistle-down with their rushes to keep them warm 7see ,plutarch in the life of ,lycurgus47 ,from all these circumstances it is plain1 that no nation on earth was less effeminate2 but being debarred from all the comforts of life1 they could have nothing for their pains1 but the glory of being a warlike people1 inured to toils and hardships1 which was a happiness that few people would have cared for upon the same terms3 and1 though they had been masters of the world1 as long as they enjoyed no more of it1 ,englishmen would hardly have envied them their greatness4 ,what men want now-a-days has sufficiently been shewn in ,remark on line #bjj1 where ,i have treated of real pleasures4 ,line #daa4 ,t' enjoy the world's conveniencies4 ,that the words1 decency and conveniency1 were very ambiguous1 and not to be understood1 unless we were acquainted with the quality and circumstances of the persons that made use of them1 has been hinted already in ,remark on line #agg4 ,the goldsmith1 mercer1 or any other of the most creditable shopkeepers1 that has three or four thousand pounds to set up with1 must have two dishes of meat every day1 and something extraordinary for ,sundays4 ,his wife must have a damask bed against her lying-in1 and two or three rooms very well furnished3 the following summer she must have a house1 or at least very good lodgings in the country4 ,a man that has a being out of town1 must have a horse2 his footman must have another4 ,if he has a tolerable trade1 he expects in eight or ten years time to keep his coach1 which1 notwithstanding1 he hopes1 that after he has slaved 7as he calls it7 for two or three and twenty years1 he shall be worth at least a thousand a-year for his eldest son to inherit1 and two or three thousand pounds for each of his other children to begin the world with2 and when men of such circumstances pray for their daily bread1 and mean nothing more extravagant by it1 they are counted pretty modest people4 ,call this pride1 luxury1 superfluity1 or what you please1 it is nothing but what ought to be in the capital of a flourishing nation3 those of inferior condition must content themselves with less costly conveniencies1 as others of higher rank will be sure to make theirs more expensive4 ,some people call it but decency to be served in plate1 and reckon a coach and six among the necessary comforts of life2 and if a peer has not above three or four thousand a-year1 his lordship is counted poor4 ,since the first edition of this book1 several have attacked me with demonstrations of the certain ruin1 which excessive luxury must bring upon all nations1 who yet were soon answered1 when ,i showed them the limits within which ,i had confined it2 and therefore1 that no reader for the future may misconstrue me on this head1 ,i shall point at the cautions ,i have given1 and the provisos ,i have made in the former1 as well as this present impression1 and which1 if not overlooked1 must prevent all rational censure1 and obviate several objections that otherwise might be made against me4 ,i have laid down as maxims never to be departed from1 that the #c poor should be kept strictly to work1 and that it was prudence to relieve their wants1 but folly to cure them2 that agriculture #d and fishery should be promoted in all their branches1 in order to render provisions1 and consequently labour cheap4 ,i have named #e ignorance as a necessary ingredient in the mixture of society3 from all which it is manifest that ,i could never have imagined1 that luxury was to be made general through every part of a kingdom4 ,i have likewise required #f that property should be well secured1 justice impartially administered1 and in every thing the interest of the nation taken care of3 but what ,i have insisted on the most1 and repeated more than once1 is the great regard that is to be had to the balance of trade1 and the care the legislature ought to take1 that the yearly #g imports never exceed the exports2 and where this is observed1 and the other things ,i spoke of are not neglected1 ,i still continue to assert that no foreign luxury can undo a country3 the height of it is never seen but in nations that are vastly populous1 and there only in the upper part of it1 and the greater1 that is1 the larger still in proportion must be the lowest1 the basis that supports all1 the multitude of working poor4 ,those who would too nearly imitate others of superior fortune1 must thank themselves if they are ruined4 ,this is nothing against luxury2 for whoever can subsist1 and lives above his income is a fool4 ,some persons of quality may keep three or four coaches and six1 and at the same time lay up money for their children3 while a young shopkeeper is undone for keeping one sorry horse4 ,it is impossible there should be a rich nation without prodigals1 yet ,i never knew a city so full of spendthrifts1 but there were covetous people enough to answer their number4 ,as an old merchant breaks for having been extravagant or careless a great while1 so a young beginner falling into the same business1 gets an estate by being saving or more industrious before he is forty years old3 besides1 that the frailties of men often work by contraries3 some narrow souls can never thrive because they are too stingy1 while longer heads amass great wealth by spending their money freely1 and seeming to despise it4 ,but the vicissitudes of fortune are necessary1 and the most lamentable are no more detrimental to society1 than the death of the individual members of it4 ,christenings are a proper balance to burials4 ,those who immediately lose by the misfortunes of others1 are very sorry1 complain1 and make a noise2 but the others who get by them1 as there always are such1 hold their tongues1 because it is odious to be thought the better for the losses and calamities of our neighbour4 ,the various ups and downs compose a wheel1 that always turning round1 gives motion to the whole machine4 ,philosophers1 that dare extend their thoughts beyond the narrow compass of what is immediately before them1 look on the alternate changes in the civil society1 no otherwise than they do on the risings and fallings of the lungs2 the latter of which are much a part of respiration in the most perfect animals as the first2 so that the fickle breath of never-stable fortune is to the body politic1 the same as floating air is to a living creature4 ,avarice then1 and prodigality1 are equally necessary to the society4 ,that in some countries1 men are most generally lavish than in others1 proceeds from the difference in circumstances that dispose to either vice1 and arise from the condition of the social body1 as well as the temperament of the natural4 ,i beg pardon of the attentive reader1 if here1 in behalf of short memories1 ,i repeat some things1 the substance of which they have already seen in ,remark1 line #cjg4 ,more money than land1 heavy taxes and scarcity of provisions1 industry1 laboriousness1 an active and stirring spirit1 ill-nature1 and saturnine temper2 old age1 wisdom1 trade1 riches1 acquired by our own labour1 and liberty and property well secured1 are all things that dispose to avarice4 ,on the contrary1 indolence1 content1 good-nature1 a jovial temper1 youth1 folly1 arbitrary power1 money easily got1 plenty of provisions and the uncertainty of possessions1 are circumstances that render men prone to prodigality3 where there is the most of the first1 the prevailing vice will be avarice1 and prodigality where the other turns the scale2 but a national frugality there never was nor never will be without a national necessity4 ,sumptuary laws1 may be of use to an indigent country1 after great calamities of war1 pestilence1 or famine1 when work has stood still1 and the labour of the poor been interrupted2 but to introduce them into an opulent kingdom1 is the wrong way to consult the interest of it4 ,i shall end my remarks on the ,grumbling-,hive1 with assuring the champions of national frugality1 that it would be impossible for the ,persians and other eastern people1 to purchase the vast quantities of fine ,english cloth they consume1 should we load our women with less cargoes of ,asiatic silks4 ,,an ,,essay ,,on ,,charity1 ,,and ,,charity-,,schools4 ,charity1 is that virtue by which part of that sincere love we have for ourselves1 is transferred pure and unmixed to others1 not tied to us by the bonds of friendship or consanguinity1 and even mere strangers1 whom we have no obligation to1 nor hope or expect any thing from4 ,if we lessen any ways the rigour of this definition1 part of the virtue must be lost4 ,what we do for our friends and kindred1 we do partly for ourselves3 when a man acts in behalf of nephews or nieces1 and says they are my brother's children1 ,i do it out of charity2 he deceives you3 for if he is capable1 it is expected from him1 and he does it partly for his own sake3 if he values the esteem of the world1 and is nice as to honour and reputation1 he is obliged to have a greater regard to them than for strangers1 or else he must suffer in his character4 ,the exercise of this virtue1 relates either to opinion1 or to action1 and is manifested in what we think of others1 or what we do for them4 ,to be charitable1 then1 in the first place1 we ought to put the best construction on all that others do or say1 that things are capable of4 ,if a man builds a fine house1 though he has not one symptom of humility1 furnishes it richly1 and lays out a good estate in plate and pictures1 we ought not to think that he does it out of vanity1 but to encourage artists1 employ hands1 and set the poor to work for the good of his country3 and if a man sleeps at church1 so he does not snore1 we ought to think he shuts his eyes to increase his attention4 ,the reason is1 because in our turn we desire that our utmost avarice should pass for frugality2 and that for religion1 which we know to be hypocrisy4 ,secondly1 that virtue is conspicuous in us1 when we bestow our time and labour for nothing1 or employ our credit with others1 in behalf of those who stand in need of it1 and yet could not expect such an assistance from our friendship or nearness of blood4 ,the last branch of charity consists in giving away 7while we are alive7 what we value ourselves1 to such as ,i have already named2 being contented rather to have and enjoy less1 than not relieve those who want1 and shall be the objects of our choice4 ,this virtue is often counterfeited by a passion of ours1 called ,pity or ,compassion1 which consists in a fellow-feeling and condolence for the misfortunes and calamities of others3 all mankind are more or less affected with it2 but the weakest minds generally the most4 ,it is raised in us1 when the sufferings and misery of other creatures make so forcible an impression upon us1 as to make us uneasy4 ,it comes in either at the eye1 or ear1 or both2 and the nearer and more violently the object of compassion strikes those senses1 the greater disturbance it causes in us1 often to such a degree1 as to occasion great pain and anxiety4 ,should any of us be locked up in a ground-room1 where in a yard joining to it1 there was a thriving good humoured child at play1 of two or three years old1 so near us that through the grates of the window we could almost touch it with our hand2 and if while we took delight in the harmless diversion1 and imperfect prittle-prattle of the innocent babe1 a nasty overgrown sow should come in upon the child1 set it a screaming1 and frighten it out of its wits2 it is natural to think1 that this would make us uneasy1 and that with crying out1 and making all the menacing noise we could1 we should endeavour to drive the sow away4 ,but if this should happen to be an half-starved creature1 that1 mad with hunger1 went roaming about in quest of food1 and we should behold the ravenous brute1 in spite of our cries1 and all the threatening gestures we could think of1 actually lay hold of the helpless infant1 destroy and devour it2 to see her widely open her destructive jaws1 and the poor lamb beat down with greedy haste2 to look on the defenceless posture of tender limbs first trampled on1 then tore asunder2 to see the filthy snout digging in the yet living entrails1 suck up the smoking blood1 and now and then to hear the crackling of the bones1 and the cruel animal with savage pleasure grunt over the horrid banquet2 to hear and see all this1 what tortures would it give the soul beyond expression6 let me see the most shining virtue the moralists have to boast of1 so manifest either to the person possessed of it1 or those who behold his actions3 let me see courage1 or the love of ones country so apparent without any mixture1 cleared and distinct1 the first from pride and anger1 the other from the love of glory1 and every shadow of self-interest1 as this pity would be cleared and distinct from all other passions4 ,there would be no need of virtue or self-denial to be moved at such a scene2 and not only a man of humanity1 of good morals and commiseration1 but likewise an highwayman1 an house-breaker1 or a murderer could feel anxieties on such an occasion2 how calamitous soever a man's circumstances might be1 he would forget his misfortunes for the time1 and the most troublesome passion would give way to pity1 and not one of the species has a heart so obdurate or engaged1 that it would not ache at such a sight1 as no language has an epithet to fit it4 ,many will wonder at what ,i have said of pity1 that it comes in at the eye or ear1 but the truth of this will be known when we consider that the nearer the object is1 the more we suffer1 and the more remote it is1 the less we are troubled with it4 ,to see people executed for crimes1 if it is a great way off1 moves us but little1 in comparison to what it does when we are near enough to see the motion of the soul in their eyes1 observe their fears and agonies1 and are able to read the pangs in every feature of the face4 ,when the object is quite removed from our senses1 the relation of the calamities or the reading of them1 can never raise in us the passion called pity4 ,we may be concerned at bad news1 the loss and misfortunes of friends and those whose cause we espouse1 but this is not pity1 but grief or sorrow2 the same as we feel for the death of those we love1 or the destruction of what we value4 ,when we hear that three or four thousand men1 all strangers to us1 are killed with the sword1 or forced into some river where they are drowned1 we say1 and perhaps believe1 that we pity them4 ,it is humanity bids us have compassion with the sufferings of others2 and reason tells us1 that whether a thing be far off or done in our sight1 our sentiments concerning it ought to be the same1 and we should be ashamed to own1 that we felt no commiseration in us when any thing requires it4 ,he is a cruel man1 he has no bowels of compassion2 all these things are the effects of reason and humanity1 but nature makes no compliments2 when the object does not strike1 the body does not feel it2 and when men talk of pitying people out of sight1 they are to be believed in the same manner as when they say1 that they are our humble servants4 ,in paying the usual civilities at first meeting1 those who do not see one another every day1 are often very glad and very sorry alternately1 for five or six times together1 in less than two minutes1 and yet at parting carry away not a jot more of grief or joy than they met with4 ,the same it is with pity1 and it is a choice no more than fear or anger4 ,those who have a strong and lively imagination1 and can make representations of things in their minds1 as they would be if they were actually before them1 may work themselves up into something that resembles compassion2 but this is done by art1 and often the help of a little enthusiasm1 and is only an imitation of pity2 the heart feels little of it1 and it is as faint as what we suffer at the acting of a tragedy2 where our judgment leaves part of the mind uninformed1 and to indulge a lazy wantonness1 suffers it to be led into an error1 which is necessary to have a passion raised1 the slight strokes of which are not unpleasant to us1 when the soul is in an idle unactive humour4 ,as pity is often by ourselves and in our own cases mistaken for charity1 so it assumes the shape1 and borrows the very name of it2 a beggar asks you to exert that virtue for ,jesus ,christ's sake1 but all the while his great design is to raise your pity4 ,he represents to your view the first side of his ailments and bodily infirmities2 in chosen words he gives you an epitome of his calamities1 real or fictitious2 and while he seems to pray ,god that he will open your heart1 he is actually at work upon your ears2 the greatest profligate of them flies to religion for aid1 and assists his cant with a doleful tone1 and a studied dismality of gestures3 but he trusts not to one passion only1 he flatters your pride with titles and names of honour and distinction2 your avarice he sooths with often repeating to you the smallness of the gift he sues for1 and conditional promises of future returns1 with an interest extravagant beyond the statute of usury1 though out of the reach of it4 ,people not used to great cities1 being thus attacked on all sides1 are commonly forced to yield1 and cannot help giving something though they can hardly spare it themselves4 ,how oddly are we managed by self-love6 ,it is ever watching in our defence1 and yet1 to sooth a predominant passion1 obliges us to act against our interest3 for when pity seizes us1 if we can but imagine1 that we contribute to the relief of him we have compassion with1 and are instrumental to the lessening of his sorrows1 it eases us1 and therefore pitiful people often give an alms1 when they really feel that they would rather not4 ,when sores are very bare1 or seem otherwise afflicting in an extraordinary manner1 and the beggar can bear to have them exposed to the cold air1 it is very shocking to some people2 it is a shame1 they cry1 such sights should be suffered2 the main reason is1 it touches their pity feelingly1 and at the same time they are resolved1 either because they are covetous1 or count it an idle expence1 to give nothing1 which makes them more uneasy4 ,they turn their eyes1 and where the cries are dismal1 some would willingly stop their ears if they were not ashamed4 ,what they can do is to mend their pace1 and be very angry in their hearts that beggars should be about the streets4 ,but it is with pity as it is with fear1 the more we are conversant with objects that excite either passion1 the less we are disturbed by them1 and those to whom all these scenes and tones are by custom made familiar1 they make little impression upon4 ,the only thing the industrious beggar has left to conquer those fortified hearts1 if he can walk either with or without crutches1 is to follow close1 and with uninterrupted noise teaze and importune them1 to try if he can make them buy their peace4 ,thus thousands give money to beggars from the same motive as they pay their corn-cutter1 to walk easy4 ,and many a halfpenny is given to impudent and designedly persecuting rascals1 whom1 if it could be done handsomely1 a man would cane with much greater satisfaction4 ,yet all this1 by the courtesy of the country1 is called charity4 ,the reverse of pity is malice3 ,i have spoke of it where ,i treat of envy4 ,those who know what it is to examine themselves1 will soon own that it is very difficult to trace the root and origin of this passion4 ,it is one of those we are most ashamed of1 and therefore the hurtful part of it is easily subdued and corrected by a judicious education4 ,when any body near us stumbles1 it is natural even before reflection1 to stretch out our hands to hinder1 or at least break the fall1 which shows that while we are calm we are rather bent to pity4 ,but though malice by itself is little to be feared1 yet assisted with pride it is often mischievous1 and becomes most terrible when egged on and heightened by anger4 ,there is nothing that more readily or more effectually extinguishes pity than this mixture1 which is called cruelty3 from whence we may learn1 that to perform a meritorious action1 it is not sufficient barely to conquer a passion1 unless it likewise be done from a laudable principle1 and consequently how necessary that clause was in the definition of virtue1 that our endeavours were to proceed from a rational ambition of being good4 ,pity1 as ,i have said somewhere else1 is the most amiable of all our passions1 and there are not many occasions1 on which we ought to conquer or curb it4 ,a surgeon may be as compassionate as he pleases1 so it does not make him omit or forbear to perform what he ought to do4 ,judges likewise1 and juries1 may be influenced with pity1 if they take care that plain laws and justice itself are not infringed1 and do not suffer by it4 ,no pity does more mischief in the world1 than what is excited by the tenderness of parents1 and hinders them from managing their children1 as their rational love to them would require1 and themselves could wish it4 ,the sway likewise which this passion bears in the affections of women1 is more considerable than is commonly imagined1 and they daily commit faults that are altogether ascribed to lust1 and yet are in a great measure owing to pity4 ,what ,i named last is not the only passion that mocks and resembles charity2 pride and vanity have built more hospitals than all the virtues together4 ,men are so tenacious of their possessions1 and selfishness is so riveted in our nature1 that whoever can but any ways conquer it shall have the applause of the public1 and all the encouragement imaginable to conceal his frailty1 and sooth any other appetite he shall have a mind to indulge4 ,the man that supplies1 with his private fortune1 what the whole must otherwise have provided for1 obliges every member of the society1 and1 therefore1 all the world are ready to pay him their acknowledgment1 and think themselves in duty bound to pronounce all such actions virtuous1 without examining1 or so much as looking into the motives from which they were performed4 ,nothing is more destructive to virtue or religion itself1 than to make men believe1 that giving money to the poor1 though they should not part with it till after death1 will make a full atonement in the next world1 for the sins they have committed in this4 ,a villain1 who has been guilty of a barbarous murder1 may1 by the help of false witnesses1 escape the punishment he deserved3 he prospers1 we will say1 heaps up great wealth1 and1 by the advice of his father confessor1 leaves all his estate to a monastery1 and his children beggars4 ,what fine amends has this good ,christian made for his crime1 and what an honest man was the priest who directed his conscience8 ,he who parts with all he has in his life-time1 whatever principle he acts from1 only gives away what was his own2 but the rich miser who refuses to assist his nearest relations while he is alive1 though they never designedly disobliged him1 and disposes of his money1 for what we call charitable uses1 after his death1 may imagine of his goodness what he pleases1 but he robs his posterity4 ,i am now thinking of a late instance of charity1 a prodigious gift1 that has made a great noise in the world3 ,i have a mind to set it in the light ,i think it deserves1 and beg leave1 for once1 to please pedants1 to treat it somewhat rhetorically4 ,that a man1 with small skill in physic1 and hardly any learning1 should1 by vile arts1 get into practice1 and lay up great wealth1 is no mighty wonder2 but1 that he should so deeply work himself into the good opinion of the world as to gain the general esteem of a nation1 and establish a reputation beyond all his contemporaries1 with no other qualities but a perfect knowledge of mankind1 and a capacity of making the most of it1 is something extraordinary4 ,if a man arrived to such a height of glory should be almost distracted with pride1 sometime give his attendance on a servant or any mean person for nothing1 and1 at the same time1 neglect a nobleman that gives exorbitant fees1 at other times refuse to leave his bottle for his business1 without any regard to the quality of the persons that sent for him1 or the danger they are in3 if he should be surly and morose1 affect to be an humourist1 treat his patients like dogs1 though people of distinction1 and value no man but what would deify him1 and never call in question the certainty of his oracles3 if he should insult all the world1 affront the first nobility1 and extend his insolence even to the royal family3 if1 to maintain as well as to increase the fame of his sufficiency1 he should scorn to consult with his betters on what emergency soever1 look down with contempt on the most deserving of his profession1 and never confer with any other physician but what will pay homage to his superior genius1 creep to his humour1 and never approach him but with all the slavish obsequiousness a court-flatterer can treat a prince with3 ,if a man1 in his lifetime1 should discover1 on the one hand1 such manifest symptoms of superlative pride1 and an insatiable greediness after wealth at the same time1 and1 on the other1 no regard to religion or affection to his kindred1 no compassion to the poor1 and hardly any humanity to his fellow-creatures1 if he gave no proofs that he loved his country1 had a public spirit1 or was a lover of arts1 of books1 or of literature1 what must we judge of his motive1 the principle he acted from1 when1 after his death1 we find that he has left a trifle among his relations who stood in need of it1 and an immense treasure to an university that did not want it4 ,let a man be as charitable as it is possible for him to be without forfeiting his reason or good sense3 can he think otherwise1 but that this famous physician did1 in the making of his will1 as in every thing else1 indulge his darling passion1 entertaining his vanity with the happiness of the contrivance8 when he thought on the monuments and inscriptions1 with all the sacrifices of praise that would be made to him1 and1 above all1 the yearly tribute of thanks1 of reverence1 and veneration that would be paid to his memory1 with so much pomp and solemnity2 when he considered1 how in all these performances1 wit and invention would be racked1 art and eloquence ransacked to find out encomiums suitable to the public spirit1 the munificence and the dignity of the benefactor1 and the artful gratitude of the receivers2 when he thought on1 ,i say1 and considered these things1 it must have thrown his ambitious soul into vast ecstasies of pleasure1 especially when he ruminated on the duration of his glory1 and the perpetuity he would by this means procure to his name4 ,charitable opinions are often stupidly false2 when men are dead and gone1 we ought to judge of their actions1 as we do of books1 and neither wrong their understanding nor our own4 ,the ,british sculapius was undeniably a man of sense1 and if he had been influenced by charity1 a public spirit1 or the love of learning1 and had aimed at the good of mankind in general1 or that of his own profession in particular1 and acted from any of these principles1 he could never have made such a will2 because so much wealth might have been better managed1 and a man of much less capacity would have found out several better ways of laying out the money4 ,but if we consider1 that he was as undeniably a man of vast pride1 as he was a man of sense1 and give ourselves leave only to surmise1 that this extraordinary gift might have proceeded from such a motive1 we shall presently discover the excellency of his parts1 and his consummate knowledge of the world3 for1 if a man would render himself immortal1 be ever praised and deified after his death1 and have all the acknowledgment1 the honours1 and compliments paid to his memory1 that vain glory herself could wish for1 ,i do not think it in human skill to invent a more effectual method4 ,had he followed arms1 behaved himself in five-and-twenty sieges1 and as many battles1 with the bravery of an ,alexander1 and exposed his life and limbs to all the fatigues and dangers of war for fifty campaigns together2 or devoting himself to the muses1 sacrificed his pleasure1 his rest1 and his health to literature1 and spent all his days in a laborious study1 and the toils of learning2 or else1 abandoning all worldly interest1 excelled in probity1 temperance1 and austerity of life1 and ever trod in the strictest path of virtue1 he would not so effectually have provided for the eternity of his name1 as after a voluptuous life1 and the luxurious gratification of his passions1 he has now done without any trouble or self denial1 only by the choice in the disposal of his money1 when he was forced to leave it4 ,a rich miser1 who is thoroughly selfish1 and would receive the interest of his money1 even after his death1 has nothing else to do than to defraud his relations1 and leave his estate to some famous university2 they are the best markets to buy immortality at with little merit3 in them knowledge1 wit1 and penetration are the growth1 ,i had almost said the manufacture of the place3 there men are profoundly skilled in human nature1 and know what it is their benefactors want2 and their extraordinary bounties shall always meet with an extraordinary recompence1 and the measure of the gift is ever the standard of their praises1 whether the donor be a physician or a tinker1 when once the living witnesses that might laugh at them are extinct4 ,i can never think on the anniversary of the thanksgiving-day decreed to a great man1 but it puts me in mind of the miraculous cures1 and other surprising things that will be said of him a hundred years hence2 and ,i dare prognosticate1 that before the end of the present century1 he will have stories forged in his favour 7for rhetoricians are never upon oath7 that shall be as fabulous1 at least1 as any legends of the saints4 ,of all this our subtle benefactor was not ignorant2 he understood universities1 their genius1 and their politics1 and from thence foresaw and knew1 that the incense to be offered to him would not cease with the present or few succeeding generations1 and that it would not only for the trifling space of three or four hundred years1 but that it would continue to be paid to him through all changes and revolutions of government and religion1 as long as the nation subsists1 and the island itself remains4 ,it is deplorable that the proud should have such temptations to wrong their lawful heirs3 ,for when a man in ease and affluence1 brim-full of vain glory1 and humoured in his pride by the greatest of a polite nation1 has such an infallible security in petto for an everlasting homage and adoration to his manes to be paid in such an extraordinary manner1 he is like a hero in battle1 who1 in feasting of his own imagination1 tastes all the felicity of enthusiasm4 ,it buys him up in sickness1 relieves him in pain1 and either guards him against1 or keeps from his view all the terrors of death1 and the most dismal apprehensions of futurity4 ,should it be said1 that to be thus censorious1 and look into matters1 and men's consciences with that nicety1 will discourage people from laying out their money this way2 and that1 let the money and the motive of the donor be what they will1 he that receives the benefit is the gainer1 ,i would not disown the charge1 but am of opinion1 that this is no injury to the public1 should one prevent men from crowding too much treasure into the dead stock of the kingdom4 ,there ought to be a vast disproportion between the active and unactive part of the society to make it happy1 and where this is not regarded1 the multitude of gifts and endowments may soon be excessive and detrimental to a nation4 ,charity1 where it is too extensive1 seldom fails of promoting sloth and idleness1 and is good for little in the commonwealth but to breed drones1 and destroy industry4 ,the more colleges and alms-houses you build1 the more you may4 ,the first founders and benefactors may have just and good intentions1 and would perhaps1 for their own reputations1 seem to labour for the most laudable purposes1 but the executors of those wills1 the governors that come after him1 have quite other views1 and we seldom see charities long applied as it was first intended they should be4 ,i have no design that is cruel1 nor the least aim that savours of inhumanity4 ,to have sufficient hospitals for sick and wounded1 ,i look upon as an indispensable duty both in peace and war3 ,young children without parents1 old age without support1 and all that are disabled from working1 ought to be taken care of with tenderness and alacrity4 ,but as1 on the one hand1 ,i would have none neglected that are helpless1 and really necessitous without being wanting to themselves1 so1 on the other1 ,i would not encourage beggary or laziness in the poor3 ,all should be set to work that are anywise able1 and scrutinies should be made even among the infirm3 ,employments might be found out for most of our lame1 and many that are unfit for hard labour1 as well as the blind1 as long as their health and strength would allow of it4 ,what ,i have now under consideration leads me naturally to that kind of distraction the nation has laboured under for some time1 the enthusiastic passion for ,charity-,schools4 ,the generality are so bewitched with the usefulness and excellency of them1 that whoever dares openly oppose them is in danger of being stoned by the rabble4 ,children that are taught the principles of religion1 and can read the word of ,god1 have a greater opportunity to improve in virtue and good morality1 and must certainly be more civilized than others1 that are suffered to run at random1 and have nobody to look after them4 ,how perverse must be the judgment of those1 who would not rather see children decently dressed1 with clean linen at least once a-week1 that1 in an orderly manner1 follow their master to church1 than in every open place1 meet with a company of blackguards without shirts or any thing whole about them1 that1 insensible of their misery1 are continually increasing it with oaths and imprecations6 ,can any one doubt but these are the great nursery of thieves and pickpockets8 ,what numbers of felons1 and other criminals1 have we tried and convicted every sessions6 ,this will be prevented by charity-schools2 and when the children of the poor receive a better education1 the society will1 in a few years1 reap the benefit of it1 and the nation be cleared of so many miscreants1 as now this great city1 and all the country about it1 are filled with4 ,this is the general cry1 and he that speaks the least word against it1 an uncharitable1 hard-hearted and inhuman1 if not a wicked1 profane1 and atheistical wretch4 ,as to the comeliness of the sight1 nobody disputes it2 but ,i would not have a nation pay too dear for so transient a pleasure2 and if we might set aside the finery of the show1 every thing that is material in this popular oration might soon be answered4 ,as to religion1 the most knowing and polite part of a nation have every where the least of it2 craft has a greater hand in making rogues than stupidity1 and vice1 in general1 is nowhere more predominant than where arts and sciences flourish4 ,ignorance is1 to a proverb1 counted to be the mother of devotion2 and it is certain1 that we shall find innocence and honesty nowhere more general than among the most illiterate1 the poor silly country people4 ,the next to be considered1 are the manners and civility that by charity-schools are to be grafted into the poor of the nation4 ,i confess that1 in my opinion1 to be in any degree possessed of what ,i named1 is a frivolous1 if not a hurtful quality1 at least nothing is less requisite in the laborious poor4 ,it is not compliments we want of them1 but their work and assiduity4 ,but ,i give up this article with all my heart2 good manners we will say are necessary to all people1 but which way will they be furnished with them in a charity-school8 ,boys there may be taught to pull off their caps promiscuously to all they meet1 unless it be a beggar3 ,but that they should acquire in it any civility beyond that ,i cannot conceive4 ,the master is not greatly qualified1 as may be guessed by his salary1 and if he could teach them manners he has not time for it3 while they are at school they are either learning or saying their lesson to him1 or employed in writing or arithmetic2 and as soon as school is done1 they are as much at liberty as other poor people's children4 ,it is precept1 and the example of parents1 and those they eat1 drink and converse with1 that have an influence upon the minds of children3 reprobate parents that take ill courses1 and are regardless to their children1 will not have a mannerly civilized offspring though they went to a charity-school till they were married4 ,the honest pains-taking people1 be they never so poor1 if they have any notion of goodness and decency themselves1 will keep their children in awe1 and never suffer them to rake about the streets1 and lie out a-nights4 ,those who will work themselves1 and have any command over their children1 will make them do something or other that turns to profit as soon as they are able1 be it never so little2 and such are so ungovernable1 that neither words nor blows can work upon them1 no charity-school will mend2 nay1 experience teaches us1 that among the charity-boys there are abundance of bad ones that swear and curse about1 and1 bar the clothes1 are as much blackguard as ever ,tower-hill or ,st4 ,james's produced4 ,i am now come to the enormous crimes1 and vast multitude of malefactors1 that are all laid upon the want of this notable education4 ,that abundance of thefts and robberies are daily committed in and about the city1 and great numbers yearly suffer death for those crimes is undeniable3 but because this is ever hooked in1 when the usefulness of charity-schools is called in question1 as if there was no dispute1 but they would in a great measure remedy1 and in time prevent those disorders2 ,i intend to examine into the real causes of those mischiefs so justly complained of1 and doubt not but to make it appear that charity-schools1 and every thing else that promotes idleness1 and keeps the poor from working1 are more accessary to the growth of villany1 than the want of reading and writing1 or even the grossest ignorance and stupidity4 ,here ,i must interrupt myself to obviate the clamours of some impatient people1 who1 upon reading of what ,i said last1 will cry out1 that far from encouraging idleness1 they bring up their charity-children to handicrafts1 as well as trades1 and all manner of honest labour4 ,i promise them that ,i shall take notice of that hereafter1 and answer it without stifling the least thing that can be said in their behalf4 ,in a populous city1 it is not difficult for a young rascal1 that has pushed himself into a crowd1 with a small hand and nimble fingers1 to whip away a handkerchief or snuff-box1 from a man who is thinking on business1 and regardless of his pocket4 ,success in small crimes seldom fails of ushering in greater2 and he that picks pockets with impunity at twelve1 is likely to be a house-breaker at sixteen1 and a thorough-paced villain long before he is twenty4 ,those who are cautious as well as bold1 and no drunkards1 may do a world of mischief before they are discovered3 and this is one of the greatest inconveniencies of such vast overgrown cities1 as ,london or ,paris2 that they harbour rogues and villains as granaries do vermin2 they afford a perpetual shelter to the worst of people1 and are places of safety to thousands of criminals1 who daily commit thefts and burglaries1 and yet1 by often changing their places of abode1 may conceal themselves for many years1 and will perhaps for ever escape the hands of justice1 unless by chance they are apprehended in a fact4 ,and when they are taken1 the evidences perhaps want clearness1 or are otherwise insufficient2 the depositions are not strong enough2 juries and often judges are touched with compassion2 prosecutors though vigorous at first1 often relent before the time of trial comes on3 few men prefer the public safety to their own ease2 a man of good-nature is not easily reconciled with taking away of another man's life1 though he has deserved the gallows4 ,to be the cause of any ones death1 though justice requires it1 is what most people is startled at1 especially men of conscience and probity1 when they want judgment or resolution3 as this is the reason that thousands escape that deserve to be capitally punished1 so it is likewise the cause that there are so many offenders1 who boldly venture1 in hopes that if they are taken they shall have the same good fortune of getting off4 ,but if men did imagine1 and were fully persuaded1 that as surely as they committed a fact that deserved hanging1 so surely they would be hanged2 executions would be very rare1 and the most desperate felon would almost as soon hang himself as he would break open a house4 ,to be stupid and ignorant is seldom the character of a thief4 ,robberies on the highway1 and other bold crimes1 are generally perpetrated by rogues of spirit1 and a genius2 and villains of any fame are commonly subtle cunning fellows1 that are well versed in the method of trials1 and acquainted with every quirk in the law that can be of use to them2 that overlook not the smallest flaw in an indictment1 and know how to make an advantage of the least slip of an evidence1 and every thing else1 that can serve their turn to bring them off4 ,it is a mighty saying1 that it is better that five hundred guilty people should escape1 than that one innocent person should suffer3 this maxim is only true as to futurity1 and in relation to another world2 but it is very false in regard to the temporal welfare of society4 ,it is a terrible thing a man should be put to death for a crime he is not guilty of2 yet so oddly circumstances may meet in the infinite variety of accidents1 that it is possible it should come to pass1 all the wisdom that judges1 and consciousness that juries may be possessed of1 notwithstanding4 ,but where men endeavour to avoid this1 with all the care and precaution human prudence is able to take1 should such a misfortune happen perhaps once or twice in half a score years1 on condition that all that time justice should be administered with all the strictness and severity1 and not one guilty person suffered to escape with impunity1 it would be a vast advantage to a nation1 not only as to the securing of every ones property1 and the peace of the society in general1 but would likewise save the lives of hundreds1 if not thousands1 of necessitous wretches1 that are daily hanged for trifles1 and who would never have attempted any thing against the law1 or at least have ventured on capital crimes1 if the hopes of getting off1 should they be taken1 had not been one of the motives that animated their resolution4 ,therefore where the laws are plain and severe1 all the remissness in the execution of them1 lenity of juries1 and frequency of pardons1 are in the main a much greater cruelty to a populous state or kingdom1 than the use of racks and the most exquisite torments4 ,another great cause of those evils1 is to be looked for in the want of precaution in those that are robbed1 and the many temptations that are given4 ,abundance of families are very remiss in looking after the safety of their houses2 some are robbed by the carelessness of servants1 others for having grudged the price of bars and shutters4 ,brass and pewter are ready money1 they are every where about the house2 plate perhaps and money are better secured2 but an ordinary lock is soon opened1 when once a rogue is got in4 ,it is manifest1 then1 that many different causes concur1 and several scarce avoidable evils contribute to the misfortune of being pestered with pilferers1 thieves1 and robbers1 which all countries ever were1 and ever will be1 more or less1 in and near considerable towns1 more especially vast and overgrown cities4 ,it is opportunity makes the thief2 carelessness and neglect in fastening doors and windows1 the excessive tenderness of juries and prosecutors1 the small difficulty of getting a reprieve and frequency of pardons2 but above all1 the many examples of those who are known to be guilty1 are destitute both of friends and money1 and yet by imposing on the jury1 baffling the witnesses1 or other tricks and stratagems1 find out means to escape the gallows4 ,these are all strong temptations that conspire to draw in the necessitous1 who want principle and education4 ,to these you may add as auxiliaries to mischief1 an habit of sloth and idleness1 and strong aversion to labour and assiduity1 which all young people will contract that are not brought up to downright working1 or at least kept employed most days in the week1 and the greatest part of the day4 ,all children that are idle1 even the best of either sex1 are bad company to one another whenever they meet4 ,it is not1 then1 the want of reading and writing1 but the concurrence and complication of more substantial evils1 that are the perpetual nursery of abandoned profligates in great and opulent nations2 and whoever would accuse ignorance1 stupidity1 and dastardness1 as the first1 and what the physicians call the procataric cause1 let him examine into the lives1 and narrowly inspect the conversations and actions of ordinary rogues and our common felons1 and he will find the reverse to be true1 and that the blame ought rather to be laid on the excessive cunning and subtlety1 and too much knowledge in general1 which the worst of miscreants and the scum of the nation are possessed of4 ,human nature is every where the same3 genius1 wit1 and natural parts1 are always sharpened by application1 and may be as much improved in the practice of the meanest villany1 as they can in the exercise of industry1 or the most heroic virtue4 ,there is no station of life1 where pride1 emulation1 and the love of glory may not be displayed4 ,a young pick-pocket1 that makes a jest of his angry prosecutor1 and dextrously wheedles the old justice into an opinion of his innocence1 is envied by his equals1 and admired by all the fraternity4 ,rogues have the same passions to gratify as other men1 and value themselves on their honour and faithfulness to one another1 their courage1 intrepidity1 and other manly virtues1 as well as people of better professions2 and in daring enterprises1 the resolution of a robber may be as much supported by his pride1 as that of an honest soldier1 who fights for his country4 ,the evils then we complain of1 are owing to quite other causes than what we assign for them4 ,men must be very wavering in their sentiments1 if not inconsistent with themselves1 that at one time will uphold knowledge and learning to be the most proper means to promote religion1 and defend at another1 that ignorance is the mother of devotion4 ,but if the reasons alleged for this general education are not the true ones1 whence comes it1 that the whole kingdom1 both great and small1 are so unanimously fond of it8 ,there is no miraculous conversion to be perceived among us1 no universal bent to goodness and morality that has on a sudden overspread the island2 there is as much wickedness as ever1 charity is as cold1 and real virtue as scarce3 the year seventeen hundred and twenty1 has been as prolific in deep villany1 and remarkable for selfish crimes and premeditated mischief1 as can be picked out of any century whatever2 not committed by poor ignorant rogues1 that could neither read nor write1 but the better sort of people as to wealth and education1 that most of them were great masters in arithmetic1 and lived in reputation and splendor4 ,to say1 that when a thing is once in vogue1 the multitude follows the common cry1 that charity schools are in fashion in the same manner as hooped petticoats1 by caprice1 and that no more reason can be given for the one than the other1 ,i am afraid will not be satisfactory to the curious1 and at the same time ,i doubt much1 whether it will be thought of great weight by many of my readers1 what ,i can advance besides4 ,the real source of this present folly1 is certainly very abstruse and remote from sight2 but he that affords the least light in matters of great obscurity1 does a kind office to the inquirers4 ,i am willing to allow1 that in the beginning1 the first design of those schools1 was good and charitable2 but to know what increases them so extravagantly1 and who are the chief promoters of them now1 we must make our search another way1 and address ourselves to the rigid party-men1 that are zealous for their cause1 either episcopacy or presbytery2 but as the latter are but the poor mimicks of the first1 though equally pernicious1 we shall confine ourselves to the national church1 and take a turn through a parish that is not blessed yet with a charity school4--,but here ,i think myself obliged in conscience to ask pardon of my reader1 for the tiresome dance ,i am going to lead him1 if he intends to follow me1 and therefore ,i desire1 that he would either throw away the book and leave me1 or else arm himself with the patience of ,job1 to endure all the impertinences of low life2 the cant and tittle-tattle he is like to meet with before he can go half a street's length4 ,first we must look out among the young shop-keepers1 that have not half the business they could wish for1 and consequently time to spare4 ,if such a new-beginner has but a little pride more than ordinary1 and loves to be meddling1 he is soon mortified in the vestry1 where men of substance and long standing1 or else your pert litigious or opinionated bawlers1 that have obtained the title of notable men1 commonly bear the sway4 ,his stock and perhaps credit are but inconsiderable1 and yet he finds within himself a strong inclination to govern4 ,a man thus qualified1 thinks it a thousand pities there is no charity-school in the parish3 he communicates his thoughts to two or three of his acquaintance first2 they do the same to others1 and in a month's time there is nothing else talked of in the parish4 ,every body invents discourses and arguments to the purpose1 according to his abilities4--,it is an arrant shame1 says one1 to see so many poor that are not able to educate their children1 and no provision made for them1 where we have so many rich people4 ,what do you talk of rich1 answers another1 they are the worst3 they must have so many servants1 coaches and horses3 they can lay out hundreds1 and some of them thousands of pounds for jewels and furniture1 but not spare a shilling to a poor creature that wants it3 when modes and fashions are discoursed of1 they can hearken with great attention1 but are wilfully deaf to the cries of the poor4 ,indeed1 neighbour1 replies the first1 you are very right1 ,i do not believe there is a worse parish in ,england for charity than ours3 ,it is such as you and ,i that would do good if it was in our power1 but of those that are able there is very few that are willing4 ,others more violent1 fall upon particular persons1 and fasten slander on every man of substance they dislike1 and a thousand idle stories in behalf of charity1 are raised and handed about to defame their betters4 ,while this is doing throughout the neighbourhood1 he that first broached the pious thought1 rejoices to hear so many come into it1 and places no small merit in being the first cause of so much talk and bustle3 but neither himself nor his intimates1 being considerable enough to set such a thing on foot1 some body must be found out who has greater interest3 he is to be addressed to1 and showed the necessity1 the goodness1 the usefulness1 and ,christianity of such a design3 next he is to be flattered4--,indeed1 ,sir1 if you would espouse it1 nobody has a greater influence over the best of the parish than yourself3 one word of you ,i am sure would engage such a one3 if you once would take it to heart1 ,sir1 ,i would look upon the thing as done1 ,sir4--,if by this kind of rhetoric they can draw in some old fool1 or conceited busy-body that is rich1 or at least reputed to be such1 the thing begins to be feasible1 and is discoursed of among the better sort4 ,the parson or his curate1 and the lecturer1 are every where extolling the pious project4 ,the first promoters meanwhile are indefatigable3 if they were guilty of any open vice1 they either sacrifice it to the love of reputation1 or at least grow more cautious and learn to play the hypocrite1 well knowing that to be flagitious or noted for enormities1 is inconsistent with the zeal which they pretend to1 for works of supererogation and excessive piety4 ,the number of these diminutive patriots increasing1 they form themselves into a society1 and appoint stated meetings1 where every one concealing his vices1 has liberty to display his talents4 ,religion is the theme1 or else the misery of the times occasioned by atheism and profaneness4 ,men of worth1 who live in splendour1 and thriving people that have a great deal of business of their own1 are seldom seen among them4 ,men of sense and education likewise1 if they have nothing to do1 generally look out for better diversion4 ,all those who have a higher aim1 shall have their attendance easily excused1 but contribute they must1 or else lead a weary life in the parish4 ,two sorts of people come in voluntarily1 stanch churchmen1 who have good reasons for it in petto1 and your sly sinners that look upon it as meritorious1 and hope that it will expiate their guilt1 and ,satan be nonsuited by it at a small expence4 ,some come into it to save their credit1 others to retrieve it1 according as they have either lost or are afraid of losing it3 others again do it prudentially1 to increase their trade and get acquaintance1 and many would own to you1 if they dared to be sincere and speak the truth1 that they would never have been concerned in it1 but to be better known in the parish4 ,men of sense that see the folly of it1 and have nobody to fear1 are persuaded into it not to be thought singular1 or to run counter to all the world2 even those who are resolute at first in denying it1 it is ten to one but at last they are teazed and importuned into a compliance4 ,the charge being calculated for most of the inhabitants1 the insignificancy of it is another argument that prevails much1 and many are drawn in to be contributors1 who1 without that1 would have stood out and strenuously opposed the whole scheme4 ,the governors are made of the middling people1 and many inferior to that class are made use of1 if the forwardness of their zeal can but over-balance the meanness of their condition4 ,if you should ask these worthy rulers1 why they take upon them so much trouble1 to the detriment of their own affairs and loss of time1 either singly or the whole body of them1 they would all unanimously answer1 that it is the regard they have for religion and the church1 and the pleasure they take in contributing to the good1 and eternal welfare of so many poor innocents1 that in all probability would run into perdition1 in these wicked times of scoffers and freethinkers4 ,they have no thought of interest2 even those who deal in and provide these children with what they want1 have not the least design of getting by what they sell for their use2 and though in every thing else1 their avarice and greediness after lucre be glaringly conspicuous1 in this affair they are wholly divested from selfishness1 and have no worldly ends4 ,one motive above all1 which is none of the least with the most of them1 is to be carefully concealed1 ,i mean the satisfaction there is in ordering and directing3 there is a melodious sound in the word governor1 that is charming to mean people3 every body admires sway and superiority2 even imperium in belluas has its delights3 there is a pleasure in ruling over any thing2 and it is this chiefly that supports human nature in the tedious slavery of school-masters4 ,but if there be the least satisfaction in governing the children1 it must be ravishing to govern the school-master himself4 ,what fine things are said and perhaps wrote to a governor1 when a school-master is to be chosen6 ,how the praises tickle1 and how pleasant it is not to find out the fulsomeness of the flattery1 the stiffness of the expressions1 or the pedantry of the stile6 ,those who can examine nature1 will always find1 that what these people most pretend to is the least1 and what they utterly deny their greatest motive4 ,no habit or quality is more easily acquired than hypocrisy1 nor any thing sooner learned than to deny the sentiments of our hearts1 and the principle we act from3 but the seeds of every passion are innate to us1 and nobody comes into the world without them4 ,if we will mind the pastimes and recreations of young children1 we shall observe nothing more general in them1 than that all who are suffered to do it1 take delight in playing with kittens and little puppy dogs4 ,what makes them always lugging and pulling the poor creatures about the house1 proceeds from nothing else but that they can do with them what they please1 and put them into what posture and shape they list2 and the pleasure they receive from this1 is originally owing to the love of dominion1 and that usurping temper all mankind are born with4 ,when this great work is brought to bear1 and actually accomplished1 joy and serenity seem to overspread the face of every inhabitant1 which likewise to account for1 ,i must make a short digression4 ,there are every where slovenly sorry fellows1 that are used to be seen always ragged and dirty3 these people we look upon as miserable creatures in general1 and unless they are very remarkable1 we take little notice of them1 and yet among these there are handsome and well-shaped men1 as well as among their betters4 ,but if one of these turns soldier1 what a vast alteration is there observed in him for the better1 as soon as he is put in his red coat1 and we see him look smart with his grenadier's cap and a great ammunition sword6 ,all who knew him before are struck with other ideas of his qualities1 and the judgment which both men and women form of him in their minds1 is very different from what it was4 ,there is something analogous to this in the sight of charity children2 there is a natural beauty in uniformity1 which most people delight in4 ,it is diverting to the eye to see children well matched1 either boys or girls1 march two and two in good order2 and to have them all whole and tight in the same clothes and trimming1 must add to the comeliness of the sight2 and what makes it still more generally entertaining1 is the imaginary share which even servants1 and the meanest in the parish1 have in it1 to whom it costs nothing3 our parish church1 our charity children4 ,in all this there is a shadow of property that tickles every body1 that has a right to make use of the words1 but more especially those who actually contribute1 and had a great hand in advancing the pious work4 ,it is hardly conceivable1 that men should so little know their own hearts1 and be so ignorant of their inward condition1 as to mistake frailty1 passion1 and enthusiasm1 for goodness1 virtue and charity2 yet nothing is more true than that the satisfaction1 the joy and transports they feel on the accounts ,i named1 pass with these miserable judges for principles of piety and religion4 ,whoever will consider of what ,i have said for two or three pages1 and suffer his imagination to rove a little further on what he has heard and seen concerning this subject1 will be furnished with sufficient reasons1 abstract from the love of ,god and true ,christianity1 why charity-schools are in such uncommon vogue1 and so unanimously approved of and admired among all sorts and conditions of people4 ,it is a theme which every body can talk of1 and understands thoroughly2 there is not a more inexhaustible fund for tittle-tattle1 and a variety of low conversation in hoy-boats and stage-coaches4 ,if a governor that in behalf of the school or the sermon1 exerted himself more than ordinary1 happens to be in company1 how he is commended by the women1 and his zeal and charitable disposition extolled to the skies6 ,upon my word1 sir1 says an old lady1 we are all very much obliged to you2 ,i do not think any of the other governors could have made interest enough to procure us a bishop2 it was on your account1 ,i am told1 that his lordship came1 though he was not very well3 to which the other replies very gravely1 that it is his duty1 but that he values no trouble nor fatigue1 so he can be but serviceable to the children1 poor lambs3 indeed1 says he1 ,i was resolved to get a pair of lawn sleeves1 though ,i rid all night for it1 and ,i am very glad ,i was not disappointed4 ,sometimes the school itself is discoursed of1 and of whom in all the parish it is most expected he should build one3 ,the old room where it is now kept is ready to drop down2 such a one had a vast estate left him by his uncle1 and a great deal of money besides2 a thousand pounds would be nothing in his pocket4 ,at others1 the great crowds are talked of that are seen at some churches1 and the considerable sums that are gathered2 from whence1 by an easy transition1 they go over to the abilities1 the different talents and orthodoxy of clergymen4 ,dr4 ---- is a man of great parts and learning1 and ,i believe he is very hearty for the church1 but ,i do not like him for a charity sermon4 ,there is no better man in the world than ----2 he forces the money out of their pockets4 ,when he preached last for our children1 ,i am sure there was abundance of people that gave more than they intended when they came to church4 ,i could see it in their faces1 and rejoiced at it heartily4 ,another charm that renders charity-schools so bewitching to the multitude1 is the general opinion established among them1 that they are not only actually beneficial to society as to temporal happiness1 but likewise that ,christianity enjoys and requires of us1 we should erect them for our future welfare4 ,they are earnestly and fervently recommended by the whole body of the clergy1 and have more labour and eloquence laid out upon them than any other ,christian duty2 not by young persons1 or poor scholars of little credit1 but the most learned of our prelates1 and the most eminent for orthodoxy1 even those who do not often fatigue themselves on any other occasion4 ,as to religion1 there is no doubt but they know what is chiefly required of us1 and consequently the most necessary to salvation3 and as to the world1 who should understand the interest of the kingdom better than the wisdom of the nation1 of which the lords spiritual are so considerable a branch8 ,the consequence of this sanction is1 first1 that those1 who1 with their purses or power1 are instrumental to the increase or maintenance of these schools1 are tempted to place a greater merit in what they do1 than otherwise they could suppose it deserved4 ,secondly1 that all the rest1 who either cannot1 or will not any wise contribute towards them1 have still a very good reason why they should speak well of them2 for though it be difficult1 in things that interfere with our passions1 to act well1 it is always in our power to wish well1 because it is performed with little cost4 ,there is hardly a person so wicked among the superstitious vulgar1 but in the liking he has for charity schools1 he imagines to see a glimmering hope that it will make an atonement for his sins1 from the same principle as the most vicious comfort themselves with the love and veneration they bear to the church2 and the greatest profligates find an opportunity in it to show the rectitude of their inclinations at no expence4 ,but if all these were not inducements sufficient to make men stand up in defence of the idol ,i speak of1 there is another that will infallibly bribe most people to be advocates for it4 ,we all naturally love triumph1 and whoever engages in this course is sure of conquest1 at least in nine companies out of ten4 ,let him dispute with whom he will1 considering the speciousness of the pretence1 and the majority he has on his side1 it is a castle1 an impregnable fortress he can never be beat out of2 and was the most sober1 virtuous man alive to produce all the arguments to prove the detriment charity-schools1 at least the multiplicity of them1 do to society1 which ,i shall give hereafter1 and such as are yet stronger1 against the greatest scoundrel in the world1 who should only make use of the common cant of charity and religion1 the vogue would be against the first1 and himself lose his cause in the opinion of the vulgar4 ,the rise1 then1 and original of all the bustle and clamour that is made throughout the kingdom in behalf of charity schools1 is chiefly built on frailty and human passion1 at least it is more than possible that a nation should have the same fondness1 and feel the same zeal for them as are shown in ours1 and yet not be prompted to it by any principle of virtue or religion4 ,encouraged by this consideration1 ,i shall1 with the greater liberty1 attack this vulgar error1 and endeavour to make it evident1 that far from being beneficial1 this forced education is pernicious to the public1 the welfare whereof1 as it demands of us a regard superior to all other laws and considerations1 so it shall be the only apology ,i intend to make for differing from the present sentiments of the learned and reverend body of our divines1 and venturing plainly to deny1 what ,i have just now owned to be openly asserted by most of our bishops1 as well as inferior clergy4 ,as our church pretends to no infallibility even in spirituals1 her proper province1 so it cannot be an affront to her to imagine that she may err in temporals1 which are not so much under her immediate care4 ,but to my task4 ,the whole earth being cursed1 and no bread to be had but what we eat in the sweat of our brows1 vast toil must be undergone before man can provide himself with necessaries for his sustenance1 and the bare support of his corrupt and defective nature1 as he is a single creature2 but infinitely more to make life comfortable in a civil society1 where men are become taught animals1 and great numbers of them have1 by mutual compact1 framed themselves into a body politic2 and the more man's knowledge increases in this state1 the greater will be the variety of labour required to make him easy4 ,it is impossible that a society can long subsist1 and suffer many of its members to live in idleness1 and enjoy all the ease and pleasure they can invent1 without having1 at the same time1 great multitudes of people that to make good this defect will condescend to be quite the reverse1 and by use and patience inure their bodies to work for others and themselves besides4 ,the plenty and cheapness of provisions depends1 in a great measure1 on the price and value that is set upon this labour1 and consequently the welfare of all societies1 even before they are tainted with foreign luxury1 requires that it should be performed by such of their members as1 in the first place1 are sturdy and robust1 and never used to ease or idleness2 and1 in the second1 soon contented as to the necessaries of life2 such as are glad to take up with the coarsest manufacture in every thing they wear1 and in their diet have no other aim than to feed their bodies when their stomachs prompt them to eat1 and1 with little regard to taste or relish1 refuse no wholesome nourishment that can be swallowed when men are hungry1 or ask any thing for their thirst but to quench it4 ,as the greatest part of the drudgery is to be done by daylight1 so it is by this only that they actually measure the time of their labour without any thought of the hours they are employed1 or the weariness they feel2 and the hireling in the country must get up in the morning1 not because he has rested enough1 but because the sun is going to rise4 ,this last article alone would be an intolerable hardship to grown people under thirty1 who1 during nonage1 had been used to lie a-bed as long as they could sleep3 but all three together make up such a condition of life1 as a man more mildly educated would hardly choose1 though it should deliver him from a gaol or a shrew4 ,if such people there must be1 as no great nation can be happy without vast numbers of them1 would not a wise legislature cultivate the breed of them with all imaginable care1 and provide against their scarcity as he would prevent the scarcity of provision itself8 ,no man would be poor1 and fatigue himself for a livelihood1 if he could help it3 ,the absolute necessity all stand in for victuals and drink1 and in cold climates for clothes and lodging1 makes them submit to any thing that can be bore with4 ,if nobody did want1 nobody would work2 but the greatest hardships are looked upon as solid pleasures1 when they keep a man from starving4 ,from what has been said1 it is manifest1 that in a free nation1 where slaves are not allowed of1 the surest wealth consists in a multitude of laborious poor2 for besides that they are the never-failing nursery of fleets and armies1 without them there could be no enjoyment1 and no product of any country could be valuable4 ,to make the society happy1 and people easy under the meanest circumstances1 it is requisite that great numbers of them should be ignorant1 as well as poor4 ,knowledge both enlarges and multiplies our desires1 and the fewer things a man wishes for1 the more easily his necessities may be supplied4 ,the welfare and felicity1 therefore1 of every state and kingdom1 require that the knowledge of the working poor should be confined within the verge of their occupations1 and never extended 7as to things visible71 beyond what relates to their calling4 ,the more a shepherd1 a ploughman1 or any other peasant1 knows of the world1 and the things that are foreign to his labour or employment1 the less fit he will be to go through the fatigues and hardships of it with cheerfulness and content4 ,reading1 writing1 and arithmetic1 are very necessary to those whose business require such qualifications2 but where people's livelihood has no dependence on these arts1 they are very pernicious to the poor1 who are forced to get their daily bread by their daily labour4 ,few children make any progress at school1 but1 at the same time1 they are capable of being employed in some business or other1 so that every hour those of poor people spend at their book is so much time lost to the society4 ,going to school1 in comparison to working1 is idleness1 and the longer boys continue in this easy sort of life1 the more unfit they will be when grown up for downright labour1 both as to strength and inclination4 ,men who are to remain and end their days in a laborious1 tiresome1 and painful station of life1 the sooner they are put upon it at first1 the more patiently they will submit to it for ever after4 ,hard labour1 and the coarsest diet1 are a proper punishment to several kinds of malefactors1 but to impose either on those that have not been used and brought up to both1 is the greatest cruelty1 when there is no crime you can charge them with4 ,reading and writing are not attained to without some labour of the brain and assiduity1 and before people are tolerably versed in either1 they esteem themselves infinitely above those who are wholly ignorant of them1 often with so little justice and moderation1 as if they were of another species4 ,as all mortals have naturally an aversion to trouble and pains-taking1 so we are all fond of1 and apt to overvalue those qualifications we have purchased at the expence of our ease and quiet for years together4 ,those who spent a great part of their youth in learning to read1 write1 and cypher1 expect1 and not unjustly1 to be employed where those qualifications may be of use to them2 the generality of them will look upon downright labour with the utmost contempt1 ,i mean labour performed in the service of others in the lowest station of life1 and for the meanest consideration4 ,a man1 who has had some education1 may follow husbandry by choice1 and be diligent at the dirtiest and most laborious work2 but then the concern must be his own1 and avarice1 the care of a family1 or some other pressing motive1 must put him upon it2 but he will not make a good hireling1 and serve a farmer for a pitiful reward2 at least he is not so fit for it as a day labourer that has always been employed about the plough and dung cart1 and remembers not that ever he has lived otherwise4 ,when obsequiousness and mean services are required1 we shall always observe that they are never so cheerfully nor so heartily performed1 as from inferiors to superiors2 ,i mean inferiors not only in riches and quality1 but likewise in knowledge and understanding4 ,a servant can have no unfeigned respect for his master1 as soon as he has sense enough to find out that he serves a fool4 ,when we are to learn or to obey1 we shall experience in ourselves1 that the greater opinion we have of the wisdom and capacity of those that are either to teach or command us1 the greater deference we pay to their laws and instructions4 ,no creatures submit contentedly to their equals2 and should a horse know as much as a man1 ,i should not desire to be his rider4 ,here ,i am obliged again to make a digression1 though ,i declare ,i never had a less mind to it than ,i have at this minute2 but ,i see a thousand rods in piss1 and the whole posse of diminutive pedants against me1 for assaulting the ,christ-cross-row1 and opposing the very elements of literature4 ,this is no panic fear1 and the reader will not imagine my apprehensions ill grounded1 if he considers what an army of petty tyrants ,i have to cope with1 that all either actually persecute with birch1 or else are soliciting for such a preferment4 ,for if ,i had no other adversaries than the starving wretches of both sexes1 throughout the kingdom of ,great ,britain1 that from a natural antipathy to working1 have a great dislike to their present employment1 and perceiving within a much stronger inclination to command than ever they felt to obey others1 think themselves qualified1 and wish from their hearts to be masters and mistresses of charity schools1 the number of my enemies would1 by the most modest computation1 amount to one hundred thousand at least4 ,methinks ,i hear them cry out1 that a more dangerous doctrine never was broached1 and ,popery is a fool to it1 and ask what brute of a ,saracen it is that draws his ugly weapon for the destruction of learning4 ,it is ten to one but they will indict me for endeavouring1 by instigation of the prince of darkness1 to introduce into these realms greater ignorance and barbarity1 than ever nation was plunged into by ,goths and ,vandals since the light of the gospel first appeared in the world4 ,whoever labours under the public odium1 has always crimes laid to his charge he never was guilty of1 and it will be suspected that ,i have had a hand in obliterating the ,holy ,scriptures1 and perhaps affirmed1 that it was at my request that the small ,bibles1 published by patent in the year #agba1 and chiefly made use of in charity schools1 were1 through badness of print and paper1 rendered illegible2 which yet ,i protest ,i am as innocent of as the child unborn4 ,but ,i am in a thousand fears2 the more ,i consider my case1 the worse ,i like it1 and the greatest comfort ,i have is in my sincere belief1 that hardly any body will mind a word of what ,i say2 or else1 if ever the people suspected that what ,i write would be of any weight to any considerable part of the society1 ,i should not have the courage barely to think on all the trades ,i should disoblige2 and ,i cannot but smile1 when ,i reflect on the variety of uncouth sufferings that would be prepared for me1 if the punishment they would differently inflict upon me was emblematically to point at my crime4 ,for if ,i was not suddenly stuck full of useless pen knives up to the hilts1 the company of stationers would certainly take me in hand1 and either have me buried alive in their hall1 under a great heap of primers and spelling-books1 they would not be able to sell2 or else send me up against tide to be bruised to death in a paper mill1 that would be obliged to stand still a week upon my account4 ,the ink-makers1 at the same time1 would1 for the public good1 offer to choke me with astringents1 or drown me in the black liquor that would be left upon their hands2 which1 if they joined stock1 might easily be performed in less than a month2 and if ,i should escape the cruelty of these united bodies1 the resentment of a private monopolist would be as fatal to me1 and ,i should soon find myself pelted and knocked on the head with little squat ,bibles clasped in brass1 and ready armed for mischief1 that1 charitable learning ceasing1 would be fit for nothing but unopened to fight with1 and exercises truly polemic4 ,the digression ,i spoke of just now1 is not the foolish trifle that ended with the last paragraph1 and which the grave critic1 to whom all mirth is unseasonable1 will think very impertinent2 but a serious apologetical one ,i am going to make out of hand1 to clear myself from having any design against arts and sciences1 as some heads of colleges and other careful preservers of human learning might have apprehended1 upon seeing ignorance recommended as a necessary ingredient in the mixture of civil society4 ,in the first place1 ,i would have near double the number of professors in every university of what there is now4 ,theology with us is generally well provided1 but the two other faculties have very little to boast of1 especially physic4 ,every branch of that art ought to have two or three professors1 that would take pains to communicate their skill and knowledge to others4 ,in public lectures1 a vain man has great opportunities to set off his parts1 but private instructions are more useful to students4 ,pharmacy1 and the knowledge of the simples1 are as necessary as anatomy or the history of diseases3 it is a shame1 that when men have taken their degree1 and are by authority intrusted with the lives of the subject1 they should be forced to come to ,london to be acquainted with the ,materia ,medica1 and the composition of medicines1 and receive instructions from others that never had university education themselves2 it is certain1 that in the city ,i named1 there is ten times more opportunity for a man to improve himself in anatomy1 botany1 pharmacy1 and the practice of physic1 than at both universities together4 ,what has an oil shop to do with silks2 or who would look for hams and pickles at a mercers8 ,where things are well managed1 hospitals are made as subservient to the advancement of students in the art of physic1 as they are to the recovery of health in the poor4 ,good sense ought to govern men in learning as well as in trade3 no man ever bound his son apprentice to a goldsmith to make him a linen draper2 then why should he have a divine for his tutor to become a lawyer or a physician8 ,it is true1 that the languages1 logic and philosophy1 should be the first studies in all the learned professions2 but there is so little help for physic in our universities that are so rich1 and where so many idle people are well paid for eating and drinking1 and being magnificently1 as well as commodiously lodged1 that bar books1 and what is common to all the three faculties1 a man may as well qualify himself at ,oxford or ,cambridge to be a ,turkey merchant1 as he can to be a physician2 which is1 in my humble opinion1 a great sign that some part of the great wealth they are possessed of is not so well applied as it might be4 ,professors should1 besides their stipends allowed them by the public1 have gratifications from every student they teach1 that self-interest1 as well as emulation and the love of glory1 might spur them on to labour and assiduity4 ,when a man excels in any one study or part of learning1 and is qualified to teach others1 he ought to be procured1 if money will purchase him1 without regarding what party1 or indeed what country or nation he is of1 whether black or white4 ,universities should be public marts for all manner of literature1 as your annual fairs1 that are kept at ,leipsic1 ,frankfort1 and other places in ,germany1 are for different wares and merchandises1 where no difference is made between natives and foreigners1 and which men resort to from all parts of the world with equal freedom and equal privilege4 ,from paying the gratifications ,i spoke of1 ,i would excuse all students designed for the ministry of the gospel4 ,there is no faculty so immediately necessary to the government of a nation as that of theology1 and as we ought to have great numbers of divines for the service of this island1 ,i would not have the meaner people discouraged from bringing up their children to that function4 ,for though wealthy men1 if they have many sons1 sometimes make one of them a clergyman1 as we see even persons of quality take up holy orders1 and there are likewise people of good sense1 especially divines1 that from a principle of prudence bring up their children to that profession1 when they are morally assured that they have friends or interest enough1 and shall be able1 either by a good fellowship at the university1 advowsons1 or other means to procure them a livelihood3 but these produce not the large number of divines that are yearly ordained1 and for the bulk of the clergy1 we are indebted to another original4 ,among the middling people of all trades there are bigots who have a superstitious awe for a gown and cassock3 of these there are multitudes that feel an ardent desire of having a son promoted to the ministry of the gospel1 without considering what is to become of them afterwards2 and many a kind mother in this kingdom1 without consulting her own circumstances or her child's capacity1 transported with this laudable wish1 is daily feasting on this pleasing thought1 and often before her son is twelve years old1 mixing maternal love with devotion1 throws herself into ecstasies and tears of satisfaction1 by reflecting on the future enjoyment she is to receive from seeing him stand in a pulpit1 and1 with her own ears1 hearing him preach the word of ,god4 ,it is to this religious zeal1 or at least the human frailties that pass for and represent it1 that we owe the great plenty of poor scholars the nation enjoys4 ,for1 considering the inequality of livings1 and the smallness of benefices up and down the kingdom1 without this happy disposition in parents of small fortune1 we could not possibly be furnished from any other quarter with proper persons for the ministry1 to attend all the cures of souls1 so pitifully provided for1 that no mortal could live upon them that had been educated in any tolerable plenty1 unless he was possessed of real virtue1 which it is foolish and indeed injurious1 we should more expect from the clergy than we generally find it in the laity4 ,the great care ,i would take to promote that part of learning which is more immediately useful to society1 should not make me neglect the more curious and polite1 but all the liberal arts1 and every branch of literature should be encouraged throughout the kingdom1 more than they are1 if my wishing could do it4 ,in every county1 there should be one or more large schools1 erected at the public charge1 for ,latin and ,greek1 that should be divided into six or more classes1 with particular masters in each of them4 ,the whole should be under the care and inspection of some men of letters in authority1 who would not only be titular governors1 but actually take pains at least twice a-year1 in hearing every class thoroughly examined by the master of it1 and not content themselves with judging of the progress the scholars had made for the themes and other exercises that had been made out of their sight4 ,at the same time1 ,i would discharge and hinder the multiplicity of those petty schools1 that never would have had any existence had the masters of them not been extremely indigent4 ,it is a vulgar error1 that nobody can spell or write ,english well without a little smatch of ,latin4 ,this is upheld by pedants for their own interest1 and by none more strenuously maintained than such of them as are poor scholars in more than one sense2 in the mean time it is an abominable falsehood4 ,i have known1 and ,i am still acquainted with several1 and some of the fair sex1 that never learned any ,latin1 and yet kept to strict orthography1 and write admirable good sense2 where1 on the other hand1 every body may meet with the scribblings of pretended scholars1 at least such as went to a grammar school for several years1 that have grammar faults and are ill spelled4 ,the understanding of ,latin thoroughly1 is highly necessary to all that are designed for any of the learned professions1 and ,i would have no gentleman without literature2 even those who are to be brought up attorneys1 surgeons1 and apothecaries1 should be much better versed in that language than generally they are2 but to youth1 who afterwards are to get a livelihood in trades and callings in which ,latin is not daily wanted1 it is of no use1 and the learning of it an evident loss of just so much time and money as are bestowed upon it4 ,when men come into business1 what was taught them of it1 in those petty schools is either soon forgot1 or only fit to make them impertinent1 and often very troublesome in company4 ,few men can forbear valuing themselves on any knowledge they had once acquired1 even after they have lost it2 and1 unless they are very modest and discreet1 the undigested scraps which such people commonly remember of ,latin1 seldom fail of rendering them1 at one time or other1 ridiculous to those who understand it4 ,reading and writing ,i would treat as we do music and dancing1 ,i would not hinder them nor force them upon the society3 as long as there was any thing to be got by them1 there would be masters enough to teach them2 but nothing should be taught for nothing but at church3 and here ,i would exclude even those who might be designed for the ministry of the gospel2 for1 if parents are so miserably poor that they cannot afford their children these first elements of learning1 it is impudence in them to aspire any further4 ,it would encourage1 likewise1 the lower sort of people to give their children this part of education1 if they could see them preferred to those of idle sots or sorry rake-hells1 that never knew what it was to provide a rag for their brats but by begging4 ,but now1 when a boy or a girl are wanted for any small service1 we reckon it a duty to employ our charity children before any other4 ,the education of them looks like a reward for being vicious and unactive1 a benefit commonly bestowed on parents1 who deserve to be punished for shamefully neglecting their families4 ,in one place you may hear a rascal half drunk1 damning himself1 call for the other pot1 and as a good reason for it1 add1 that his boy is provided for in clothes1 and has his schooling for nothing3 ,in another you shall see a poor woman in great necessity1 whose child is to be taken care of1 because herself is a lazy slut1 and never did any thing to remedy her wants in good earnest1 but bewailing them at a gin-shop4 ,if every body's children are well taught1 who1 by their own industry1 can educate them at our universities1 there will be men of learning enough to supply this nation and such another2 and reading1 writing1 or arithmetic1 would never be wanting in the business that requires them1 though none were to learn them but such whose parents could be at the charge of it4 ,it is not with letters as it is with the gifts of the ,holy ,ghost1 that they may not be purchased with money2 and bought wit1 if we believe the proverb1 is none of the worst4 ,i thought it necessary to say thus much of learning1 to obviate the clamours of the enemies to truth and fair dealing1 who1 had ,i not so amply explained myself on this head1 would have represented me as a mortal foe to all literature and useful knowledge1 and a wicked advocate for universal ignorance and stupidity4 ,i shall now make good my promise1 of answering what ,i know the well-wishers to charity schools would object against me1 by saying that they brought up the children under their care1 to warrantable and laborious trades1 and not to idleness as ,i did insinuate4 ,i have sufficiently showed already1 why going to school was idleness if compared to working1 and exploded this sort of education in the children of the poor1 because it incapacitates them ever after for downright labour1 which is their proper province1 and1 in every civil society1 a portion they ought not to repine or grumble at1 if exacted from them with discretion and humanity4 ,what remains1 is1 that ,i should speak as to their putting them out to trades1 which ,i shall endeavour to demonstrate to be destructive to the harmony of a nation1 and an impertinent intermeddling with what few of these governors know any thing of4 ,in order to this1 let us examine into the nature of societies1 and what the compound ought to consist of1 if we would raise it to as high a degree of strength1 beauty1 and perfection1 as the ground we are to do it upon will let us4 ,the variety of services that are required to supply the luxurious and wanton desires1 as well as real necessities of man1 with all their subordinate callings1 is in such a nation as ours prodigious2 yet it is certain that though the number of those several occupations be excessively great1 it is far from being infinite2 if you add one more than is required1 it must be superfluous4 ,if a man had a good stock1 and the best shop in ,cheapside to sell turbants in1 he would be ruined2 and if ,demetrius1 or any other silversmith1 made nothing but ,diana's shrines1 he would not get his bread1 now the worship of that goddess is out of fashion4 ,as it is folly to set up trades that are not wanted1 so what is next to it is to increase in any one trade1 the numbers beyond what are required4 ,as things are managed with us1 it would be preposterous to have as many brewers as there are bakers1 or as many woollen-drapers as there are shoemakers4 ,this proportion as to numbers1 in every trade1 finds itself1 and is never better kept than when nobody meddles or interferes with it4 ,people that have children to educate that must get their livelihood1 are always consulting and deliberating what trade or calling they are to bring them up to1 until they are fixed2 and thousands think on this1 that hardly think at all on any thing else4 ,first1 they confine themselves to their circumstances1 and he that can give but ten pounds with his son must not look out for a trade1 where they ask an hundred with an apprentice2 but the next they think on1 is always which will be the most advantageous2 if there be a calling where at that time people are more generally employed than they are in any other in the same reach1 there are presently half a score fathers ready to supply it with their sons4 ,therefore the greatest care most companies have1 is about the regulation of the number of apprentices4 ,now1 when all trades complain1 and perhaps justly1 that they are overstocked1 you manifestly injure that trade1 to which you add one member more than would flow from the nature of society4 ,besides that1 the governors of charity schools do not deliberate so much what trade is the best1 but what tradesmen they can get that will take the boys1 with such a sum2 and few men of substance and experience will have any thing to do with these children2 they are afraid of a hundred inconveniencies from the necessitous parents of them3 so that they are bound1 at least most commonly1 either to sots and neglectful masters1 or else such as are very needy and do not care what becomes of their apprentices1 after they have received the money2 by which it seems as if we studied nothing more than to have a perpetual nursery for charity schools4 ,when all trades and handicrafts are overstocked1 it is a certain sign there is a fault in the management of the whole2 for it is impossible there should be too many people if the country is able to feed them4 ,are provisions dear8 ,whose fault is that1 as long as you have ground untilled and hands unemployed8 ,but ,i shall be answered1 that to increase plenty1 must at long-run undo the farmer1 or lessen the rents all over ,england4 ,to which ,i reply1 that what the husbandman complains of most1 is what ,i would redress3 the greatest grievance of farmers1 gardeners1 and others1 where hard labour is required1 and dirty work to be done1 is1 that they cannot get servants for the same wages they used to have them at4 ,the day-labourer grumbles at sixteen pence to do no other drudgery1 than what thirty years ago his grandfather did cheerfully for half the money4 ,as to the rents1 it is impossible they should fall while you increase your numbers2 but the price of provisions1 and all labour in general1 must fall with them1 if not before2 and a man of a hundred and fifty pounds a-year1 has no reason to complain that his income is reduced to one hundred1 if he can buy as much for that one hundred as before he could have done for two4 ,there is no intrinsic worth in money1 but what is alterable with the times2 and whether a guinea goes for twenty pounds or for a shilling1 it is 7as ,i have already hinted before7 the labour of the poor1 and not the high and low value that is set on gold or silver1 which all the comforts of life must arise from4 ,it is in our power to have a much greater plenty than we enjoy1 if agriculture and fishery were taken care of1 as they might be2 but we are so little capable of increasing our labour1 that we have hardly poor enough to do what is necessary to make us subsist4 ,the proportion of the society is spoiled1 and the bulk of the nation1 which should every where consist of labouring poor1 that are unacquainted with every thing but their work1 is too little for the other parts4 ,in all business where downright labour is shunned or over-paid1 there is plenty of people4 ,to one merchant you have ten book keepers1 or at least pretenders2 and every where in the country the farmer wants hands4 ,ask for a footman that for some time has been in gentlemen's families1 and you will get a dozen that are all butlers4 ,you may have chamber-maids by the score1 but you cannot get a cook under extravagant wages4 ,nobody will do the dirty slavish work1 that can help it4 ,i do not discommend them2 but all these things show1 that the people of the meanest rank1 know too much to be serviceable to us4 ,servants require more than masters and mistresses can afford2 and what madness is it to encourage them in this1 by industriously increasing at our cost1 that knowledge1 which they will be sure to make us pay for over again6 ,and it is not only that those who are educated at our own expence1 encroach upon us1 but the raw ignorant country wenches and boobily fellows that can do1 and are good for nothing1 impose upon us likewise4 ,the scarcity of servants occasioned by the education of the first1 gives a handle to the latter of advancing their price1 and demanding what ought only to be given to servants that understand their business1 and have most of the good qualities that can be required in them4 ,there is no place in the world where there are more clever fellows to look at1 or to do an errand1 than some of our footmen2 but what are they good for in the main8 ,the greatest part of them are rogues1 and not to be trusted2 and if they are honest1 half of them are sots1 and will get drunk three or four times a week4 ,the surly ones are generally quarrelsome1 and valuing their manhood beyond all other considerations1 care not what clothes they spoil1 or what disappointments they may occasion1 when their prowess is in question4 ,those who are good-natured1 are generally sad whore-masters1 that are ever running after the wenches1 and spoil all the maid-servants they come near4 ,many of them are guilty of all these vices1 whoring1 drinking1 quarrelling1 and yet shall have all their faults overlooked and bore with1 because they are men of good mien and humble address1 that know how to wait on gentlemen2 which is an unpardonable folly in masters1 and generally ends in the ruin of servants4 ,some few there are1 that are not addicted to any of these failings1 and understand their duty besides2 but as these are rarities1 so there is not one in fifty but what over-rates himself2 his wages must be extravagant1 and you can never have done giving him2 every thing in the house is his perquisite1 and he will not stay with you unless his vails are sufficient to maintain a middling family2 and though you had taken him from the dunghill1 out of an hospital1 or a prison1 you shall never keep him longer than he can make of his place1 what in his high estimation of himself he shall think he deserves2 nay1 the best and most civilized1 that never were saucy and impertinent1 will leave the most indulgent master1 and1 to get handsomely away1 frame fifty excuses1 and tell downright lies1 as soon as they can mend themselves4 ,a man1 who keeps an half-crown or twelve-penny ordinary1 looks not more for money from his customers1 than a footman does from every guest that dines or sups with his master2 and ,i question whether the one does not often think a shilling or half-a-crown1 according to the quality of the person1 his due as much as the other4 ,a housekeeper1 who cannot afford to make many entertainments1 and does not often invite people to his table1 can have no creditable man-servant1 and is forced to take up with some country booby1 or other awkward fellow1 who will likewise give him the slip1 as soon as he imagines himself fit for any other service1 and is made wiser by his rascally companions4 ,all noted eating-houses1 and places that many gentlemen resort to for diversion or business1 more especially the precincts of ,westminster-hall1 are the great schools for servants1 where the dullest fellows may have their understandings improved2 and get rid at once of their stupidity and their innocence4 ,they are the academies for footmen1 where public lectures are daily read1 on all sciences of low debauchery1 by the experienced professors of them2 and students are instructed in above seven hundred illiberal arts1 how to cheat1 impose upon1 and find out the blind side of their masters1 with so much application1 that in few years they become graduates in iniquity4 ,young gentlemen and others1 that are not thoroughly versed in the world1 when they get such knowing sharpers in their service1 are commonly indulging above measure2 and for fear of discovering their want of experience1 hardly dare to contradict or deny them any thing1 which is often the reason1 that by allowing them unreasonable privileges1 they expose their ignorance when they are most endeavouring to conceal it4 ,some perhaps will lay the things ,i complain of to the charge of luxury1 of which ,i said that it could do no hurt to a rich nation1 if the imports never did exceed the exports2 but ,i do not think this imputation just1 and nothing ought to be scored on the account of luxury1 that is downright the effect of folly4 ,a man may be very extravagant in indulging his ease and his pleasure1 and render the enjoyment of the world as operose and expensive as they can be made1 if he can afford it1 and1 at the same time1 show his good sense in every thing about him3 ,this he cannot be said to do1 if he industriously renders his people incapable of doing him that service he expects from them4 ,it is too much money1 excessive wages1 and unreasonable vails1 that spoil servants in ,england4 ,a man may have five and twenty horses in his stables1 without being guilty of folly1 if it suits with the rest of his circumstances2 but if he keeps but one1 and overfeeds it to show his wealth1 he is a fool for his pains4 ,is it not madness to suffer1 that servants should take three1 and others five per cent4 of what they pay to tradesmen for their masters1 as is so well known to watchmakers1 and others that sell toys1 superfluous nicknacks1 and other curiosities1 if they deal with people of quality and fashionable gentlemen1 that are above telling their own money8 ,if they should accept of a present when offered1 it might be connived at1 but it is an unpardonable impudence that they should claim it as their due1 and contend for it if refused4 ,those who have all the necessaries of life provided for1 can have no occasion for money1 but what does them hurt as servants1 unless they were to hoard it up for age or sickness1 which1 among our skip-kennels1 is not very common1 and even then it makes them saucy and insupportable4 ,i am credibly informed1 that a parcel of footmen are arrived to that height of insolence1 as to have entered into a society together1 and made laws1 by which they oblige themselves not to serve for less than such a sum1 nor carry burdens1 or any bundle or parcel above a certain weight1 not exceeding two or three pounds1 with other regulations directly opposite to the interest of those they serve1 and altogether destructive to the use they were designed for4 ,if any of them be turned away for strictly adhering to the orders of this honourable corporation1 he is taken care of till another service is provided for him2 and there is no money wanting at any time to commence and maintain a law-suit against any master that shall pretend to strike1 or offer any other injury to his gentleman footman1 contrary to the statutes of their society4 ,if this be true1 as ,i have reason to believe it is1 and they are suffered to go on in consulting and providing for their own ease and conveniency any further1 we may expect quickly to see the ,french comedy1 ,le ,maitre le ,valet acted in good earnest in most families1 which1 if not redressed in a little time1 and those footmen increase their company to the number it is possible they may1 as well as assemble when they please with impunity1 it will be in their power to make a tragedy of it whenever they have a mind to it4 ,but suppose those apprehensions frivolous and groundless1 it is undeniable that servants1 in general1 are daily encroaching upon masters and mistresses1 and endeavouring to be more upon the level with them4 ,they not only seem solicitous to abolish the low dignity of their condition1 but have already considerably raised it in the common estimation from the original meanness which the public welfare requires it should always remain in4 ,i do not say that these things are altogether owing to charity schools1 there are other evils they may be partly ascribed to4 ,london is too big for the country1 and1 in several respects1 we are wanting to ourselves4 ,but if a thousand faults were to concur before the inconveniences could be produced we labour under1 can any man doubt1 who will consider what ,i have said1 that charity schools are accessary1 or1 at least1 that they are more likely to create and increase than to lessen or redress those complaints8 ,the only thing of weight1 then1 that can be said in their behalf is1 that so many thousand children are educated by them in the ,christian faith1 and the principles of the church of ,england4 ,to demonstrate that this is not a sufficient plea for them1 ,i must desire the reader1 as ,i hate repetitions1 to look back on what ,i have said before1 to which ,i shall add1 that whatever is necessary to salvation1 and requisite for poor labouring people to know concerning religion1 that children learn at school1 may fully as well either by preaching or catechizing be taught at church1 from which1 or some other place of worship1 ,i would not have the meanest of a parish that is able to walk to it be absent on ,sundays4 ,it is the ,sabbath1 the most useful day in seven1 that is set apart for divine service and religious exercise1 as well as resting from bodily labour2 and it is a duty incumbent on all magistrates1 to take particular care of that day4 ,the poor more especially and their children1 should be made to go to church on it1 both in the fore and afternoon1 because they have no time on any other4 ,by precept and example they ought to be encouraged and used to it from their very infancy2 the wilful neglect of it ought to be counted scandalous1 and if downright compulsion to what ,i urge might seem too harsh1 and perhaps impracticable1 all diversions at least ought strictly to be prohibited1 and the poor hindered from every amusement abroad that might allure or draw them from it4 ,where this care is taken by the magistrates1 as far as it lies in their power1 ministers of the gospel may instil into the smallest capacities1 more piety and devotion1 and better principles of virtue and religion1 than charity schools ever did or ever will produce2 and those who complain1 when they have such opportunities1 that they cannot imbue their parishioners with sufficient knowledge1 of what they stand in need of as ,christians1 without the assistance of reading and writing1 are either very lazy or very ignorant and undeserving themselves4 ,that the most knowing are not the most religious1 will be evident if we make a trial between people of different abilities1 even in this juncture1 where going to church is not made such an obligation on the poor and illiterate1 as it might be4 ,let us pitch upon a hundred poor men1 the first we can light on1 that are above forty1 and were brought up to hard labour from their infancy1 such as never went to school at all1 and always lived remote from knowledge and great towns3 ,let us compare to these an equal number of very good scholars1 that shall all have had university education1 and be1 if you will1 half of them divines1 well versed in philology and polemic learning2 then let us impartially examine into the lives and conversations of both1 and ,i dare engage that among the first1 who can neither read nor write1 we shall meet with more union and neighbourly love1 less wickedness and attachment to the world1 more content of mind1 more innocence1 sincerity1 and other good qualities that conduce to the public peace and real felicity1 than we shall find among the latter1 where1 on the contrary1 we may be assured of the height of pride and insolence1 eternal quarrels and dissensions1 irreconcileable hatreds1 strife1 envy1 calumny1 and other vices1 destructive to mutual concord1 which the illiterate labouring poor are hardly ever tainted with1 to any considerable degree4 ,i am very well persuaded1 that what ,i have said in the last paragraph1 will be no news to most of my readers2 but if it be truth1 why should it be stifled1 and why must our concern for religion be eternally made a cloak to hide our real drifts and worldly intentions8 ,would both parties agree to pull off the mask1 we should soon discover that whatever they pretend to1 they aim at nothing so much in charity schools1 as to strengthen their party2 and that the great sticklers for the church1 by educating children in the principles of religion1 mean inspiring them with a superlative veneration for the clergy of the church of ,england1 and a strong aversion and immortal animosity against all that dissent from it4 ,to be assured of this1 we are but to mind on the one hand1 what divines are most admired for their charity sermons1 and most fond to preach them2 and on the other1 whether of late years we have had any riots or party scuffles among the mob1 in which the youth of a famous hospital in this city1 were not always the most forward ringleaders4 ,the grand asserters of liberty1 who are ever guarding themselves1 and skirmishing against arbitrary power1 often when they are in no danger of it1 are generally speaking1 not very superstitious1 nor seem to lay great stress on any modern apostleship3 yet some of these likewise speak up loudly for charity schools2 but what they expect from them has no relation to religion or morality3 they only look upon them as the proper means to destroy1 and disappoint the power of the priests over the laity4 ,reading and writing increase knowledge2 and the more men know1 the better they can judge for themselves1 and they imagine that1 if knowledge could be rendered universal1 people could not be priest-rid1 which is the thing they fear the most4 ,the first1 ,i confess1 it is very possible will get their aim4 ,but sure wise men that are not red-hot for a party1 or bigots to the priests1 will not think it worth while to suffer so many inconveniencies1 as charity schools may be the occasion of1 only to promote the ambition and power of the clergy4 ,to the other ,i would answer1 that if all those who are educated at the charge of their parents or relations1 will but think for themselves1 and refuse to have their reason imposed upon by the priests1 we need not be concerned for what the clergy will work upon the ignorant that have no education at all4 ,let them make the most of them3 considering the schools we have for those who can and do pay for learning1 it is ridiculous to imagine that the abolishing of charity schools would be a step towards any ignorance that could be prejudicial to the nation4 ,i would not be thought cruel1 and am well assured if ,i know any thing of myself1 that ,i abhor inhumanity2 but to be compassionate to excess1 where reason forbids it1 and the general interest of the society requires steadiness of thought and resolution1 is an unpardonable weakness4 ,i know it will be ever urged against me1 that it is barbarous the children of the poor should have no opportunity of exerting themselves1 as long as ,god has not debarred them from natural parts and genius1 more than the rich4 ,but ,i cannot think this is harder1 than it is that they should not have money1 as long as they have the same inclinations to spend as others4 ,that great and useful men have sprung from hospitals1 ,i do not deny2 but it is likewise very probable1 that when they were first employed1 many as capable as themselves not brought up in hospitals were neglected1 that with the same good fortune would have done as well as they1 if they had been made use of instead of them4 ,there are many examples of women that have excelled in learning1 and even in war1 but this is no reason we should bring them all up to ,latin and ,greek1 or else military discipline1 instead of needle-work and housewifery4 ,but there is no scarcity of sprightliness or natural parts among us1 and no soil and climate has human creatures to boast of better formed1 either inside or outside1 than this island generally produces4 ,but it is not wit1 genius1 or docility we want1 but diligence1 application1 and assiduity4 ,abundance of hard and dirty labour is to be done1 and coarse living is to be complied with3 where shall we find a better nursery for these necessities than the children of the poor8 none1 certainly1 are nearer to it or fitter for it3 ,besides that the things ,i called hardships1 neither seem nor are such to those who have been brought up to them1 and know no better4 ,there is not a more contented people among us1 than those who work the hardest1 and are the least acquainted with the pomp and delicacies of the world4 ,these are truths that are undeniable2 yet ,i know few people will be pleased to have them divulged2 what makes them odious1 is an unreasonable vein of petty reverence for the poor1 that runs through most multitudes1 and more particularly in this nation1 and arises from a mixture of pity1 folly1 and superstition4 ,it is from a lively sense of this compound1 that men cannot endure to hear or see any thing said or acted against the poor2 without considering how just the one1 or insolent the other4 ,so a beggar must not be beat1 though he strikes you first4 ,journeymen tailors go to law with their masters1 and are obstinate in a wrong cause1 yet they must be pitied2 and murmuring weavers must be relieved1 and have fifty silly things done to humour them1 though in the midst of their poverty they insult their betters1 and1 on all occasions1 appear to be more prone to make holidays and riots than they are to working or sobriety4 ,this puts me in mind of our wool1 which1 considering the posture of our affairs1 and the behaviour of the poor1 ,i sincerely believe1 ought not1 upon any account1 to be carried abroad3 but if we look into the reason1 why suffering it to be fetched away is so pernicious1 our heavy complaint and lamentations that it is exported can be no great credit to us4 ,considering the mighty and manifold hazards that must be run before it can be got off the coast1 and safely landed beyond sea1 it is manifest that the foreigners1 before they can work our wool1 must pay more for it very considerably1 than what we can have it for at home4 ,yet1 notwithstanding this great difference in the prime cost1 they can afford to sell the manufactures made of it cheaper at foreign markets than ourselves4 ,this is the disaster we groan under1 the intolerable mischief1 without which the exportation of that commodity could be no greater prejudice to us than that of tin or lead1 as long as our hands were fully employed1 and we had still wool to spare4 ,there is no people yet come to higher perfection in the woollen manufacture1 either as to dispatch or goodness of work1 at least in the most considerable branches1 than ourselves2 and therefore what we complain of can only depend on the difference in the management of the poor1 between other nations and ours4 ,if the labouring people in one country will work twelve hours in a day1 and six days in a week1 and in another they are employed but eight hours in a day1 and not above four days in a week the one is obliged to have nine hands for what the other does with four4 ,but if1 moreover1 the living1 the food1 and raiment1 and what is consumed by the workmen of the industrious1 costs but half the money of what is expended among an equal number of the other1 the consequence must be1 that the first will have the work of eighteen men for the same price as the other gives for the work of four4 ,i would not insinuate1 neither do ,i think1 that the difference1 either in diligence or necessaries of life between us and any neighbouring nation1 is near so great as what ,i speak of1 yet ,i would have it considered1 that half of that difference1 and much less1 is sufficient to over-balance the disadvantage they labour under as to the price of wool4 ,nothing to me is more evident1 than that no nation in any manufacture whatever can undersell their neighbours with whom they are at best but equals as to skill and dispatch1 and the conveniency for working1 more especially when the prime cost of the thing to be manufactured is not in their favour1 unless they have provisions1 and whatever is relating to their sustenance1 cheaper1 or else workmen that are either more assiduous1 and will remain longer at their work1 or be content with a meaner and coarser way of living than those of their neighbours4 ,this is certain1 that where numbers are equal1 the more laborious people are1 and the fewer hands the same quantity of work is performed by1 the greater plenty there is in a country of the necessaries for life1 the more considerable and the cheaper that country may render its exports4 ,it being granted1 then1 that abundance of work is to be done1 the next thing which ,i think to be likewise undeniable1 is1 that the more cheerfully it is done the better1 as well for those that perform it1 as for the rest of the society4 ,to be happy is to be pleased1 and the less notion a man has of a better way of living1 the more content he will be with his own2 and1 on the other hand1 the greater a man's knowledge and experience is in the world1 the more exquisite the delicacy of his taste1 and the more consummate judge he is of things in general1 certainly the more difficult it will be to please him4 ,i would not advance any thing that is barbarous or inhuman3 but when a man enjoys himself1 laughs and sings1 and in his gesture and behaviour shows me all the tokens of content and satisfaction1 ,i pronounce him happy1 and have nothing to do with his wit or capacity4 ,i never enter into the reasonableness of his mirth1 at least ,i ought not to judge of it by my own standard1 and argue from the effect which the thing that makes him merry would have upon me4 ,at that rate1 a man that hates cheese must call me fool for loving blue mold4 ,de gustibus non est disputandum is as true in a metaphorical1 as it is in the literal sense2 and the greater the distance is between people as to their condition1 their circumstances and manner of living1 the less capable they are of judging of one another's troubles or pleasures4 ,had the meanest and most uncivilized peasant leave incognito to observe the greatest king for a fortnight2 though he might pick out several things he would like for himself1 yet he would find a great many more1 which1 if the monarch and he were to exchange conditions1 he would wish for his part to have immediately altered or redressed1 and which with amazement he sees the king submit to4 ,and again1 if the sovereign was to examine the peasant in the same manner1 his labour would be unsufferable2 the dirt and squalor1 his diet and amours1 his pastimes and recreations would be all abominable2 but then what charms would he find in the other's peace of mind1 the calmness and tranquillity of his soul8 ,no necessity for dissimulation with any of his family1 or feigned affection to his mortal enemies2 no wife in a foreign interest1 no danger to apprehend from his children2 no plots to unravel1 no poison to fear2 no popular statesman at home1 or cunning courts abroad to manage2 no seeming patriots to bribe2 no unsatiable favourite to gratify2 no selfish ministry to obey2 no divided nation to please1 or fickle mob to humour1 that would direct and interfere with his pleasures4 ,was impartial reason to be judge between real good and real evil1 and a catalogue made accordingly1 of the several delights and vexations differently to be met with in both stations2 ,i question whether the condition of kings would be at all preferable to that of peasants1 even as ignorant and laborious as ,i seem to require the latter to be4 ,the reason why the generality of people would rather be kings than peasants1 is first owing to pride and ambition1 that is deeply riveted in human nature1 and which to gratify1 we daily see men undergo and despise the greatest hazards and difficulties4 ,secondly1 to the difference there is in the force with which our affection is wrought upon1 as the objects are either material or spiritual4 ,things that immediately strike our outward senses1 act more violently upon our passions than what is the result of thought1 and the dictates of the most demonstrative reason2 and there is a much stronger bias to gain our liking or aversion in the first1 than there is in the latter4 ,having thus demonstrated that what ,i urge could be no injury1 or the least diminution of happiness to the poor1 ,i leave it to the judicious reader1 whether it is not more probable we should increase our exports by the methods ,i hint at1 than by sitting still and damning and sinking our neighbours1 for beating us at our own weapons2 some of them out-selling us in manufactures made of our own product1 which they dearly purchased1 others growing rich in spite of distance and trouble1 by the same fish which we neglect1 though it is ready to jump into our mouths4 ,as by discouraging idleness with art and steadiness1 you may compel the poor to labour without force2 so1 by bringing them up in ignorance1 you may inure them to real hardships1 without being ever sensible themselves that they are such4 ,by bringing them up in ignorance1 ,i mean no more1 as ,i have hinted long ago1 than that1 as to worldly affairs1 their knowledge should be confined within the verge of their own occupations1 at least that we should not take pains to extend it beyond those limits4 ,when by these two engines we shall have made provisions1 and consequently labour cheap1 we must infallibly outsell our neighbours2 and at the same time increase our numbers4 ,this is the noble and manly way of encountering the rivals of our trade1 and by dint of merit outdoing them at foreign markets4 ,to allure the poor1 we make use of policy in some cases with success4 ,why should we be neglectful of it in the most important point1 when they make their boast that they will not live as the poor of other nations8 ,if we cannot alter their resolution1 why should we applaud the justness of their sentiments against the common interest8 ,i have often wondered formerly how an ,englishman that pretended to have the honour and glory1 as well as the welfare of his country at heart1 could take delight in the evening to hear an idle tenant that owed him above a year's rent1 ridicule the ,french for wearing wooden shoes1 when in the morning he had had the mortification of hearing the great ,king ,william1 that ambitious monarch1 as well as able statesman1 openly own to the world1 and with grief and anger in his looks1 complain of the exorbitant power of ,france4 ,yet ,i do not recommend wooden shoes1 nor do the maxims ,i would introduce require arbitrary power in one person4 ,liberty and property ,i hope may remain secured1 and yet the poor be better employed than they are1 though their children should wear out their clothes by useful labour1 and blacken them with country dirt for something1 instead of tearing them off their backs at play1 and daubing them with ink for nothing4 ,there is above three or four hundred years work1 for a hundred thousand poor more than we have in this island4 ,to make every part of it useful1 and the whole thoroughly inhabited1 many rivers are to be made navigable2 canals to be cut in hundreds of places4 ,some lands are to be drained and secured from inundations for the future3 abundance of barren soil is to be made fertile1 and thousands of acres rendered more beneficial1 by being made more accessible4 ,dii laboribus omnia vendunt4 ,there is no difficulty of this nature1 that labour and patience cannot surmount4 ,the highest mountains may be thrown into their valleys that stand ready to receive them2 and bridges might be laid where now we would not dare to think of it4 ,let us look back on the stupendous works of the ,romans1 more especially their highways and aqueducts4 ,let us consider in one view the vast extent of several of their roads1 how substantial they made them1 and what duration they have been of2 and in another a poor traveller that at every ten miles end is stopped by a turnpike1 and dunned for a penny for mending the roads in the summer1 with what every body knows will be dirt before the winter that succeeds is expired4 ,the conveniency of the public ought ever to be the public care1 and no private interest of a town1 or a whole country1 should ever hinder the execution of a project or contrivance that would manifestly tend to the improvement of the whole2 and every member of the legislature1 who knows his duty4 and would choose rather to act like a wise man1 than curry favour with his neighbours1 will prefer the least benefit accruing to the whole kingdom1 to the most visible advantage of the place he serves for4 ,we have materials of our own1 and want neither stone nor timber to do any thing2 and was the money that people give uncompelled to beggars1 who do not deserve it1 and what every housekeeper is obliged to pay to the poor of his parish1 that is other wise employed or ill-applied1 to be put together every year1 it would make a sufficient fund to keep a great many thousands at work4 ,i do not say this because ,i think it practicable1 but only to show that we have money enough to spare1 to employ vast multitudes of labourers2 neither should we want so much for it as we perhaps might imagine4 ,when it is taken for granted1 that a soldier1 whose strength and vigour is to be kept up at least as much as any body's1 can live upon sixpence a-day1 ,i cannot conceive the necessity of giving the greatest part of the year1 sixteen and eighteen pence to a day-labourer4 ,the fearful and cautious people1 that are ever jealous of their liberty1 ,i know will cry out1 that where the multitudes ,i speak of should be kept in constant pay1 property and privileges would be precarious4 ,but they might be answered1 that sure means might be found out1 and such regulations made1 as to the hands in which to trust the management and direction of these labourers1 that it would be impossible for the prince1 or any body else1 to make an ill use of their numbers4 ,what ,i have said in the four or five last paragraphs1 ,i foresee1 will1 with abundance of scorn1 be laughed at by many of my readers1 and at best be called building castles in the air2 but whether that is my fault or theirs is a question4 ,when the public spirit has left a nation1 they not only lose their patience with it1 and all thoughts of perseverance1 but become likewise so narrow-souled1 that it is a pain for them even to think of things that are of uncommon extent1 or require great length of time2 and whatever is noble or sublime in such conjectures1 is counted chimerical4 ,where deep ignorance is entirely routed and expelled1 and low learning promiscuously scattered on all the people1 self-love turns knowledge into cunning2 and the more this last qualification prevails in any country1 the more the people will fix all their cares1 concern1 and application1 on the time present1 without regard of what is to come after them1 or hardly ever thinking beyond the next generation4 ,but as cunning1 according to my ,lord ,verulam1 is but left-handed wisdom2 so a prudent legislator ought to provide against this disorder of the society1 as soon as the symptoms of it appear1 among which the following are the most obvious4 ,imaginary rewards are generally despised2 every body is for turning the penny1 and short bargains2 he that is diffident of every thing and believes nothing but what he sees with his own eyes1 is counted the most prudent2 and in all their dealings1 men seem to act from no other principle than that of the devil take the hindmost4 ,instead of planting oaks1 that will require a hundred and fifty years before they are fit to be cut down1 they build houses with a design that they shall not stand above twelve or fourteen years4 ,all heads run upon the uncertainty of things1 and the vicissitudes of human affairs4 ,the mathematics become the only valuable study1 and are made use of in every thing1 even where it is ridiculous1 and men seem to repose no greater trust in ,providence than they would in a broken merchant4 ,it is the business of the public to supply the defects of the society1 and take that in hand first which is most neglected by private persons4 ,contraries are best cured by contraries1 and therefore1 as example is of greater efficacy than precept1 in the amendment of national failings1 the legislature ought to resolve upon some great undertakings1 that must be the work of ages as well as vast labour1 and convince the world that they did nothing without an anxious regard to their latest posterity4 ,this will fix1 or at least help to settle1 the volatile genius and fickle spirit of the kingdom2 put us in mind that we are not born for ourselves only1 and be a means of rendering men less distrustful1 and inspiring them with a true love for their country1 and a tender affection for the ground itself1 than which nothing is more necessary to aggrandize a nation4 ,forms of government may alter2 religions and even languages may change1 but ,great ,britain1 or at least 7if that likewise might lose its name7 the island itself will remain1 and in all human probability1 last as long as any part of the globe4 ,all ages have ever paid their kind acknowledgments to their ancestors1 for the benefits derived from them2 and a ,christian who enjoys the multitude of fountains1 and vast plenty of water to be met with in the city of ,st4 ,peter1 is an ungrateful wretch if he never casts a thankful remembrance on old ,pagan ,rome1 that took such prodigious pains to procure it4 ,when this island shall be cultivated1 and every inch of it made habitable and useful1 and the whole the most convenient and agreeable spot upon earth1 all the cost and labour laid out upon it1 will be gloriously repaid by the incense of them that shall come after us2 and those who burn with the noble zeal and desire after immortality1 and took such care to improve their country1 may rest satisfied1 that a thousand and two thousand years hence1 they shall live in the memory and everlasting praises of the future ages that shall then enjoy it4 ,here ,i should have concluded this rhapsody of thoughts2 but something comes in my head concerning the main scope and design of this essay1 which is to prove the necessity there is for a certain portion of ignorance1 in a well-ordered society1 that ,i must not omit1 because1 by mentioning it1 ,i shall make an argument on my side1 of what1 if ,i had not spoke of it1 might easily have appeared as a strong objection against me4 ,it is the opinion of most people1 and mine among the rest1 that the most commendable quality of the present ,czar of ,muscovy1 is his unwearied application1 in raising his subjects from their native stupidity1 and civilizing his nation3 but then we must consider it is what they stood in need of1 and that not long ago the greatest part of them were next to brute beasts4 ,in proportion to the extent of his dominions1 and the multitudes he commands1 he had not that number or variety of tradesmen and artificers1 which the true improvement of the country required1 and therefore was in the right1 in leaving no stone unturned to procure them4 ,but what is that to us who labour under a contrary disease8 ,sound politics are to the social body1 what the art of medicine is to the natural1 and no physician would treat a man in a lethargy as if he was sick for want of rest1 or prescribe in a dropsy what should be administered in a diabetes4 ,in short1 ,russia has too few knowing men1 and ,great ,britain too many4 ,a ,,search ,,into ,,the ,,nature ,,of ,,society4 ,the generality of moralists and philosophers have hitherto agreed that there could be no virtue without self-denial2 but a late author1 who is now much read by men of sense1 is of a contrary opinion1 and imagines that men1 without any trouble1 or violence upon themselves1 may be naturally virtuous4 ,he seems to require and expect goodness in his species1 as we do a sweet taste in grapes and ,china oranges1 of which1 if any of them are sour1 we boldly pronounce that they are not come to that perfection their nature is capable of4 ,this noble writer 7for it is the ,lord ,shaftesbury ,i mean in his ,characteristics7 fancies1 that as a man is made for society1 so he ought to be born with a kind affection to the whole1 of which he is a part1 and a propensity to seek the welfare of it4 ,in pursuance of this supposition1 he calls every action performed with regard to the public good1 ,virtuous2 and all selfishness1 wholly excluding such a regard1 ,vice4 ,in respect to our species1 he looks upon virtue and vice as permanent realities1 that must ever be the same in all countries and all ages1 and imagines that a man of sound understanding1 by following the rules of good sense1 may not only find out that pulchrum et honestum both in morality and the works of art and nature1 but likewise govern himself1 by his reason1 with as much ease and readiness as a good rider manages a well-taught horse by the bridle4 ,the attentive reader1 who perused the foregoing part of this book1 will soon perceive that two systems cannot be more opposite than his ,lordship's and mine4 ,his notions ,i confess1 are generous and refined3 they are a high compliment to human-kind1 and capable1 by a little enthusiasm1 of inspiring us with the most noble sentiments concerning the dignity of our exalted nature4 ,what pity it is that they are not true4 ,i would not advance thus much if ,i had not already demonstrated1 in almost ever page of this treatise1 that the solidity of them is inconsistent with our daily experience4 ,but1 to leave not the least shadow of an objection that might be made unanswered1 ,i design to expatiate on some things which hitherto ,i have but slightly touched upon1 in order to convince the reader1 not only that the good and amiable qualities of men are not those that make him beyond other animals a sociable creature2 but1 moreover1 that it would be utterly impossible1 either to raise any multitudes into a populous1 rich1 and flourishing nation1 or1 when so raised1 to keep and maintain them in that condition1 without the assistance of what we call ,evil1 both natural and moral4 ,the better to perform what ,i have undertaken1 ,i shall previously examine into the reality of the pulchrum et honestum1 the to kalon that the ancients have talked of so much3 the meaning of this is to discuss1 whether there be a real worth and excellency in things1 a pre-eminence of one above another2 which every body will always agree to that well understands them2 or1 that there are few things1 if any1 that have the same esteem paid them1 and which the same judgment is passed upon in all countries and all ages4 ,when we first set out in quest of this intrinsic worth1 and find one thing better than another1 and a third better than that1 and so on1 we begin to entertain great hopes of success2 but when we meet with several things that are all very good or all very bad1 we are puzzled1 and agree not always with ourselves1 much less with others4 ,there are different faults as well as beauties1 that as modes and fashions alter and men vary in their tastes and humours1 will be differently admired or disapproved of4 ,judges of painting will never disagree in opinion1 when a fine picture is compared to the daubing of a novice2 but how strangely have they differed as to the works of eminent masters6 ,there are parties among connoisseurs2 and few of them agree in their esteem as to ages and countries2 and the best pictures bear not always the best prices3 a noted original will be ever worth more than any copy that can be made of it by an unknown hand1 though it should be better4 ,the value that is set on paintings depends not only on the name of the master1 and the time of his age he drew them in1 but likewise in a great measure on the scarcity of his works2 but1 what is still more unreasonable1 the quality of the persons in whose possession they are1 as well as the length of time they have been in great families2 and if the ,cartons1 now at ,hampton-,court1 were done by a less famous hand than that of ,raphael1 and had a private person for their owner1 who would be forced to sell them1 they would never yield the tenth part of the money which1 with all their gross faults1 they are now esteemed to be worth4 ,notwithstanding all this1 ,i will readily own1 that the judgment to be made of painting might become of universal certainty1 or at least less alterable and precarious than almost any thing else4 ,the reason is plain2 there is a standard to go by that always remains the same4 ,painting is an imitation of nature1 a copying of things which men have every where before them4 ,my good humoured reader ,i hope will forgive me1 if1 thinking on this glorious invention1 ,i make a reflection a little out of season1 though very much conducive to my main design2 which is1 that valuable as the art is ,i speak of1 we are beholden to an imperfection in the chief of our senses for all the pleasures and ravishing delight we receive from this happy deceit4 ,i shall explain myself4 ,air and space are no objects of sight1 but as soon as we can see with the least attention1 we observe that the bulk of the things we see is lessened by degrees1 as they are further remote from us1 and nothing but experience1 gained from these observations1 can teach us to make any tolerable guesses at the distance of things4 ,if one born blind should remain so till twenty1 and then be suddenly blessed with sight1 he would be strangely puzzled as to the difference of distances1 and hardly able1 immediately1 by his eyes alone1 to determine which was nearest to him1 a post almost within the reach of his stick1 or a steeple that should be half a mile off4 ,let us look as narrowly as we can upon a hole in a wall that has nothing but the open air behind it1 and we shall not be able to see otherwise1 but that the sky fills up the vacuity1 and is as near us as the back part of the stones that circumscribe the space where they are wanting4 ,this circumstance1 not to call it a defect1 in our sense of seeing1 makes us liable to be imposed upon1 and every thing1 but motion1 may1 by art1 be represented to us on a flat1 in the same manner as we see them in life and nature4 ,if a man had never seen this art put into practice1 a looking-glass might soon convince him that such a thing was possible1 and ,i cannot help thinking1 but that the reflections from very smooth and well-polished bodies made upon our eyes1 must have given the first handle to the inventions of drawings and painting4 ,in the works of nature1 worth1 and excellency1 are as uncertain3 and even in human creatures1 what is beautiful in one country1 is not so in another4 ,how whimsical is the florist in his choice6 ,sometimes the tulip1 sometimes the auricula1 and at other times the carnation shall engross his esteem1 and every year a new flower1 in his judgment1 beats all the old ones1 though it is much inferior to them both in colour and shape4 ,three hundred years ago men were shaved as closely as they are now3 ,since that they have wore beards1 and cut them in vast variety of forms1 that were all as becoming1 when fashionable1 as now they would be ridiculous4 ,how mean and comically a man looks1 that is otherwise well dressed1 in a narrow brimmed hat1 when every body wears broad ones2 and again1 how monstrous is a very great hat1 when the other extreme has been in fashion for a considerable time8 experience has taught us1 that these modes seldom last above ten or twelve years1 and a man of threescore must have observed five or six revolutions of them at least6 yet the beginnings of these changes1 though we have seen several1 seem always uncouth1 and are offensive a-fresh whenever they return4 ,what mortal can decide which is the handsomest1 abstract from the mode in being1 to wear great buttons or small ones8 the many ways of laying out a garden judiciously are almost innumerable2 and what is called beautiful in them1 varies according to the different tastes of nations and ages4 ,in grass plats1 knots and parterres1 a great diversity of forms is generally agreeable2 but a round may be as pleasing to the eye as a square3 an oval cannot be more suitable to one place1 than it is possible for a triangle to be to another2 and the pre-eminence an octogon has over an hexagon is no greater in figures1 than at hazard eight has above six among the chances4 ,churches1 ever since ,christians have been able to build them1 resemble the form of a cross1 with the upper end pointing toward the east2 and an architect1 where there is room1 and it can be conveniently done1 who should neglect it1 would be thought to have committed an unpardonable fault2 but it would be foolish to expect this of a ,turkish mosque or a ,pagan temple4 ,among the many beneficial laws that have been made these hundred years1 it is not easy to name one of greater utility1 and1 at the same time1 more exempt from all inconveniences1 than that which regulated the dresses of the dead4 ,those who were old enough to take notice of things when that act was made1 and are yet alive1 must remember the general clamour that was made against it4 ,at first1 nothing could be more shocking to thousands of people than that they were to be buried in woollen1 and the only thing that made that law supportable was1 that there was room left for people of some fashion to indulge their weakness without extravagancy2 considering the other expences of funerals where mourning is given to several1 and rings to a great many4 ,the benefit that accrues to the nation from it is so visible1 that nothing ever could be said in reason to condemn it1 which1 in few years1 made the horror conceived against it lessen every day4 ,i observed then that young people1 who had seen but few in their coffins1 did the soonest strike in with the innovation2 but that those who1 when the act was made1 had buried many friends and relations1 remained averse to it the longest1 and ,i remember many that never could be reconciled to it to their dying day4 ,by this time1 burying in linen being almost forgot1 it is the general opinion that nothing could be more decent than woollen1 and the present manner of dressing a corps2 which shows that our liking or disliking of things chiefly depends on mode and custom1 and the precept and example of our betters1 and such whom one way or other we think to be superior to us4 ,in morals there is no greater certainty4 ,plurality of wives is odious among ,christians1 and all the wit and learning of a great genius in defence of it1 has been rejected with contempt3 ,but polygamy is not shocking to a ,mahometan4 ,what men have learned from their infancy enslaves them1 and the force of custom warps nature1 and1 at the same time1 imitates her in such a manner1 that it is often difficult to know which of the two we are influenced by4 ,in the east1 formerly sisters married brothers1 and it was meritorious for a man to marry his mother4 ,such alliances are abominable2 but it is certain that1 whatever horror we conceive at the thoughts of them1 there is nothing in nature repugnant against them1 but what is built upon mode and custom4 ,a religious ,mahometan that has never tasted any spirituous liquor1 and has often seen people drunk1 may receive as great an aversion against wine1 as another with us of the least morality and education may have against lying with his sister1 and both imagine that their antipathy proceeds from nature4 ,which is the best religion8 is a question that has caused more mischief than all other questions together4 ,ask it at ,pekin1 at ,constantinople1 and at ,rome1 and you will receive three distinct answers extremely different from one another1 yet all of them equally positive and peremptory4 ,christians are well assured of the falsity of the ,pagan and ,mahometan superstitions3 as to this point1 there is a perfect union and concord among them2 but inquire of the several sects they are divided into1 ,which is the true church of ,christ8 and all of them will tell you it is theirs1 and to convince you1 go together by the ears4 ,it is manifest1 then1 that the hunting after this pulchrum honestum1 is not much better than a wild-goose-chase that is but little to be depended on3 ,but this is not the greatest fault ,i find with it4 ,the imaginary notions that men may be virtuous without self-denial1 are a vast inlet to hypocrisy2 which being once made habitual1 we must not only deceive others1 but likewise become altogether unknown to ourselves2 and in an instance ,i am going to give1 it will appear1 how1 for want of duly examining himself1 this might happen to a person of quality1 of parts1 and erudition1 one every way resembling the author of the ,characteristics himself4 ,a man that has been brought up in ease and affluence1 if he is of a quiet indolent nature1 learns to shun every thing that is troublesome1 and chooses to curb his passions1 more because of the inconveniences that arise from the eager pursuit after pleasure1 and the yielding to all the demands of our inclinations1 than any dislike he has to sensual enjoyments2 and it is possible1 that a person educated under a great philosopher1 who was a mild and good-natured1 as well as able tutor1 may1 in such happy circumstances1 have a better opinion of his inward state than it really deserves1 and believe himself virtuous1 because his passions lie dormant4 ,he may form fine notions of the social virtues1 and the contempt of death1 write well of them in his closet1 and talk eloquently of them in company1 but you shall never catch him fighting for his country1 or labouring to retrieve any national losses4 ,a man that deals in metaphysics may easily throw himself into an enthusiasm1 and really believe that he does not fear death while it remains out of sight4 ,but should he be asked1 why1 having this intrepidity either from nature1 or acquired by philosophy1 he did not follow arms when his country was involved in war2 or when he saw the nation daily robbed by those at the helm1 and the affairs of the exchequer perplexed1 why he did not go to court1 and make use of all his friends and interest to be a lord treasurer1 that by his integrity and wise management1 he might restore the public credit3 ,it is probable he would answer that he loved retirement1 had no other ambition than to be a good man1 and never aspired to have any share in the government2 or that he hated all flattery and slavish attendance1 the insincerity of courts and bustle of the world4 ,i am willing to believe him3 but may not a man of an indolent temper and unactive spirit1 say1 and be sincere in all this1 and1 at the same time1 indulge his appetites without being able to subdue them1 though his duty summons him to it4 ,virtue consists in action1 and whoever is possessed of this social love and kind affection to his species1 and by his birth or quality can claim any post in the public management1 ought not to sit still when he can be serviceable1 but exert himself to the utmost for the good of his fellow subjects4 ,had this noble person been of a warlike genius1 or a boisterous temper1 he would have chose another part in the drama of life1 and preached a quite contrary doctrine3 ,for we are ever pushing our reason which way soever we feel passion to draw it1 and self-love pleads to all human creatures for their different views1 still furnishing every individual with arguments to justify their inclinations4 ,that boasted middle way1 and the calm virtues recommended in the ,characteristics1 are good for nothing but to breed drones1 and might qualify a man for the stupid enjoyments of a monastic life1 or at best a country justice of peace1 but they would never fit him for labour and assiduity1 or stir him up to great achievements and perilous undertakings4 ,man's natural love of ease and idleness1 and proneness to indulge his sensual pleasures1 are not to be cured by precept3 ,his strong habits and inclinations can only be subdued by passions of greater violence4 ,preach and demonstrate to a coward the unreasonableness of his fears1 and you will not make him valiant1 more than you can make him taller1 by bidding him to be ten foot high1 whereas the secret to raise courage1 as ,i have made it public in ,remark on l4 #cba1 is almost infallible4 ,the fear of death is the strongest when we are in our greatest vigour1 and our appetite is keen2 when we are sharp-sighted1 quick of hearing1 and every part performs its office4 ,the reason is plain1 because then life is most delicious1 and ourselves most capable of enjoying it4 ,how comes it1 then1 that a man of honour should so easily accept of a challenge1 though at thirty and in perfect health8 ,it is his pride that conquers his fear3 ,for1 when his pride is not concerned1 this fear will appear most glaringly4 ,if he is not used to the sea1 let him but be in a storm1 or1 if he never was ill before1 have but a sore throat1 or a slight fever1 and he will show a thousand anxieties1 and in them the inestimable value he sets on life4 ,had man been naturally humble and proof against flattery1 the politician could never have had his ends1 or known what to have made of him4 ,without vices1 the excellency of the species would have ever remained undiscovered1 and every worthy that has made himself famous in the world1 is a strong evidence against this amiable system4 ,if the courage of the great ,macedonian came up to distraction1 when he fought alone against a whole garrison1 his madness was not less when he fancied himself to be a god1 or at least doubted whether he was or not2 and as soon as we make this reflection1 we discover both the passion and the extravagancy of it1 that buoyed up his spirits in the most imminent dangers1 and carried him through all the difficulties and fatigues he underwent4 ,there never was in the world a brighter example of an able and complete magistrate than ,cicero3 ,when ,i think on his care and vigilance1 the real hazards he slighted1 and the pains he took for the safety of ,rome2 his wisdom and sagacity in detecting and disappointing the stratagems of the boldest and most subtle conspirators1 and1 at the same time1 on his love to literature1 arts1 and sciences1 his capacity in metaphysics1 the justness of his reasonings1 the force of his eloquence1 the politeness of his style1 and the genteel spirit that runs through his writings2 when ,i think1 ,i say1 on all these things together1 ,i am struck with amazement1 and the least ,i can say of him is1 that he was a prodigious man4 ,but when ,i have set the many good qualities he had in the best light1 it is as evident to me on the other side1 that had his vanity been inferior to his greatest excellency1 the good sense and knowledge of the world he was so eminently possessed of1 could never have let him be such a fulsome as well as noisy trumpeter as he was of his own praises1 or suffered him rather than not proclaim his own merit1 to make a verse that a school boy would have been laughed at for4 ,o6 ,fortunatam1 c4 ,how strict and severe was the morality of rigid ,cato1 how steady and unaffected the virtue of that grand asserter of ,roman liberty6 but though the equivalent this stoic enjoyed1 for all the self-denial and austerity he practised1 remained long concealed1 and his peculiar modesty hid from the world1 and perhaps himself a vast while1 the frailty of his heart1 that forced him into heroism1 yet it was brought to light in the last scene of his life1 and by his suicide it plainly appeared that he was governed by a tyrannical power1 superior to the love of his country1 and that the implacable hatred and superlative envy he bore to the glory1 the real greatness and personal merit of ,csar1 had for a long time swayed all his actions under the most noble pretences4 ,had not this violent motive over-ruled his consummate prudence1 he might not only have saved himself1 but likewise most of his friends that were ruined by the loss of him1 and would in all probability1 if he could have stooped to it1 been the second man in ,rome4 ,but he knew the boundless mind and unlimited generosity of the victor3 it was his clemency he feared1 and therefore chose death because it was less terrible to his pride1 than the thoughts of giving his mortal foe so tempting an opportunity of showing the magnanimity of his soul1 as ,csar would have found in forgiving such an inveterate enemy as ,cato1 and offering him his friendship2 and which1 it is thought by the judicious1 that penetrating as well as ambitious conqueror would not have slipped1 if the other had dared to live4 ,another argument to prove the kind disposition1 and real affection we naturally have for our species1 is our love of company1 and the aversion men that are in their senses generally have to solitude1 beyond other creatures4 ,this bears a fine gloss in the ,characteristics1 and is set off in very good language to the best advantage3 the next day after ,i read it first1 ,i heard abundance of people cry fresh herrings1 which1 with the reflexion on the vast shoals of that and other fish that are caught together1 made me very merry1 though ,i was alone2 but as ,i was entertaining myself with this contemplation1 came an impertinent idle fellow1 whom ,i had the misfortune to be known by1 and asked me how ,i did1 though ,i was1 and dare say1 looked as healthy and as well as ever ,i was or did in my life4 ,what ,i answered him ,i forgot1 but remember that ,i could not get rid of him in a good while1 and felt all the uneasiness my friend ,horace complains of1 from a persecution of the like nature4 ,i would have no sagacious critic pronounce me a man-hater from this short story2 whoever does is very much mistaken4 ,i am a great lover of company1 and if the reader is not quite tired with mine1 before ,i show the weakness and ridicule of that piece of flattery made to our species1 and which ,i was just now speaking of1 ,i will give him a description of the man ,i would choose for conversation1 with a promise that before he has finished1 what at first he might only take for a digression foreign to my purpose1 he shall find the use of it4 ,by early and artful instruction1 he should be thoroughly imbued with the notions of honour and shame1 and have contracted an habitual aversion to every thing that has the least tendency to impudence1 rudeness1 or inhumanity4 ,he should be well versed in the ,latin tongue1 and not ignorant of the ,greek1 and moreover understand one or two of the modern languages besides his own4 ,he should be acquainted with the fashions and customs of the ancients1 but thoroughly skilled in the history of his own country1 and the manners of the age he lives in4 ,he should besides literature1 have studied some useful science or other1 seen some foreign courts and universities1 and made the true use of travelling4 ,he should at times take delight in dancing1 fencing1 riding the great horse1 and knowing something of hunting and other country sports1 without being attached to any1 and he should treat them all as either exercises for health1 or diversions that should never interfere with business1 or the attaining to more valuable qualifications4 ,he should have a smatch of geometry and astronomy1 as well as anatomy1 and the economy of human bodies2 to understand music so as to perform1 is an accomplishment3 but there is abundance to be said against it2 and instead of it1 ,i would have him know so much of drawing as is required to take a landskip1 or explain ones meaning of any form or model we would describe1 but never to touch a pencil4 ,he should be very early used to the company of modest women1 and never be a fortnight without conversing with the ladies4 ,gross vices1 as irreligion1 whoring1 gaming1 drinking and quarrelling1 ,i will not mention3 even the meanest education guards us against them2 ,i would always recommend to him the practice of virtue1 but ,i am for no voluntary ignorance1 in a gentleman1 of any thing that is done in court or city4 ,it is impossible a man should be perfect1 and therefore there are faults ,i would connive at1 if ,i could not prevent them2 and if between the years of nineteen and three-and-twenty1 youthful heat should sometimes get the better of his chastity1 so it was done with caution2 should he on some extraordinary occasion1 overcome by the pressing solicitations of jovial friends1 drink more than was consistent with strict sobriety1 so he did it very seldom and found it not to interfere with his health or temper2 or if by the height of his mettle1 and great provocation in a just cause1 he had been drawn into a quarrel1 which true wisdom and a less strict adherence to the rules of honour1 might have declined or prevented1 so it never befel him above once3 if ,i say he should have happened to be guilty of these things1 and he would never speak1 much less brag of them himself1 they might be pardoned1 or at least overlooked at the age ,i named1 if he left off then and continued discreet forever after4 ,the very disasters of youth1 have sometimes frightened gentlemen into a more steady prudence1 than in all probability they would ever have been masters of without them4 ,to keep him from turpitude and things that are openly scandalous1 there is nothing better than to procure him free access in one or two noble families1 where his frequent attendance is counted a duty3 and while by that means you preserve his pride1 he is kept in a continual dread of shame4 ,a man of a tolerable fortune1 pretty near accomplished as ,i have required him to be1 that still improves himself and sees the world till he is thirty1 cannot be disagreeable to converse with1 at least while he continues in health and prosperity1 and has nothing to spoil his temper4 ,when such a one1 either by chance or appointment1 meets with three or four of our equals1 and all agree to pass away a few hours together1 the whole is what ,i call good company4 ,there is nothing said in it that is not either instructive or diverting to a man of sense4 ,it is possible they may not always be of the same opinion1 but there can be no contest between any1 but who shall yield first to the other he differs from4 ,one only speaks at a time1 and no louder than to be plainly understood by him who sits the farthest off4 ,the greatest pleasure aimed at by every one of them1 is to have the satisfaction of pleasing others1 which they all practically know may as effectually be done1 by hearkening with attention and an approving countenance1 as we said very good things ourselves4 ,most people of any taste would like such a conversation1 and justly prefer it to being alone1 when they knew not how to spend their time2 but if they could employ themselves in something from which they expected1 either a more solid or a more lasting satisfaction1 they would deny themselves this pleasure1 and follow what was of greater consequence to them4 ,but would not a man1 though he had seen no mortal in a fortnight1 remain alone as much longer1 rather than get into company of noisy fellows1 that take delight in contradiction1 and place a glory in picking a quarrel8 ,would not one that has books read for ever1 or set himself to write upon some subject or other1 rather than be every night with party-men who count the island to be good for nothing1 while their adversaries are suffered to live upon it8 ,would not a man be by himself a month1 and go to bed before seven a clock1 rather than mix with fox-hunters1 who having all day long tried in vain to break their necks1 join at night in a second attempt upon their lives by drinking1 and to express their mirth1 are louder in senseless sounds within doors1 than their barking and less troublesome companions are only without8 ,i have no great value for a man who would not rather tire himself with walking2 or if he was shut up scatter pins about the room in order to pick them up again1 than keep company for six hours with half a score common sailors the day their ship was paid off4 ,i will grant1 nevertheless1 that the greatest part of mankind1 rather than be alone any considerable time1 would submit to the things ,i named3 but ,i cannot see1 why this love of company1 this strong desire after society1 should be construed so much in our favour1 and alleged as a mark of some intrinsic worth in man1 not to be found in other animals4 ,for to prove from it the goodness of our nature1 and a generous love in man1 extended beyond himself on the rest of his species1 by virtue of which he was a sociable creature1 this eagerness after company and aversion of being alone1 ought to have been most conspicuous1 and most violent in the best of their kind2 the men of the greatest genius1 parts and accomplishments1 and those who are the least subject to vice2 the contrary of which is true4 ,the weakest minds1 who can the least govern their passions1 guilty consciences that abhor reflexion1 and the worthless1 who are incapable of producing any thing of their own that is useful1 are the greatest enemies to solitude1 and will take up with any company rather than be without2 whereas1 the men of sense and of knowledge1 that can think and contemplate on things1 and such as are but little disturbed by their passions1 can bear to be by themselves the longest without reluctancy2 and1 to avoid noise1 folly1 and impertinence1 will run away from twenty companies2 and1 rather than meet with any thing disagreeable to their good taste1 will prefer their closet or a garden1 nay1 a common or a desert to the society of some men4 ,but let us suppose the love of company so inseparable from our species1 that no man could endure to be alone one moment1 what conclusions could be drawn from this8 ,does not man love company1 as he does every thing else1 for his own sake8 ,no friendships or civilities are lasting that are not reciprocal4 ,in all your weekly and daily meetings for diversion1 as well as annual feasts1 and the most solemn carousels1 every member that assists at them has his own ends1 and some frequent a club which they would never go to unless they were the top of it4 ,i have known a man who was the oracle of the company1 be very constant1 and as uneasy at any thing that hindered him from coming at the hour1 leave his society altogether1 as soon as another was added that could match1 and disputed superiority with him4 ,there are people who are incapable of holding an argument1 and yet malicious enough to take delight in hearing others wrangle2 and though they never concern themselves in the controversy1 would think a company insipid where they could not have that diversion4 ,a good house1 rich furniture1 a fine garden1 horses1 dogs1 ancestors1 relations1 beauty1 strength1 excellency in any thing whatever2 vices as well as virtue1 may all be accessary to make men long for society1 in hopes that what they value themselves upon will at one time or other become the theme of the discourse1 and give an inward satisfaction to them4 ,even the most polite people in the world1 and such as ,i spoke of at first1 give no pleasure to others that is not repaid to their self-love1 and does not at last centre in themselves1 let them wind it and turn it as they will4 ,but the plainest demonstration that in all clubs and societies of conversable people1 every body has the greatest consideration for himself1 is1 that the disinterested1 who rather over-pays than wrangles2 the good humoured1 that is never waspish nor soon offended2 the easy and indolent1 that hates disputes and never talks for triumph1 is every where the darling of the company3 whereas1 the man of sense and knowledge1 that will not be imposed upon or talked out of his reason2 the man of genius and spirit1 that can say sharp and witty things1 though he never lashes but what deserves it2 the man of honour1 who neither gives nor takes an affront1 may be esteemed1 but is seldom so well beloved as a weaker man less accomplished4 ,as in these instances1 the friendly qualities arise from our contriving perpetually our own satisfaction1 so1 on other occasions1 they proceed from the natural timidity of man1 and the solicitous care he takes of himself4 ,two ,londoners1 whose business oblige them not to have any commerce together1 may know1 see1 and pass by one another every day upon the ,exchange1 with not much greater civility than bulls would3 let them meet at ,bristol they will pull off their hats1 and on the least opportunity enter into conversation1 and be glad of one another's company4 ,when ,french1 ,english1 and ,dutch1 meet in ,china1 or any other ,pagan country1 being all ,europeans1 they look upon one another as countrymen1 and if no passion interferes1 will feel a natural propensity to love one another4 ,nay1 two men that are at enmity1 if they are forced to travel together1 will often lay by their animosities1 be affable1 and converse in a friendly manner1 especially if the road be unsafe1 and they are both strangers in the place they are to go to4 ,these things by superficial judges1 are attributed to mans sociableness1 his natural propensity to friendship and love of company2 but whoever will duly examine things1 and look into man more narrowly1 will find1 that on all these occasions we only endeavour to strengthen our interest1 and are moved by the causes already alleged4 ,what ,i have endeavoured hitherto1 has been to prove1 that the pulchrum et honestum1 excellency and real worth of things are most commonly precarious and alterable as modes and customs vary2 that consequently the inferences drawn from their certainty are insignificant1 and that the generous notions concerning the natural goodness of man are hurtful1 as they tend to mislead1 and are merely chimerical3 the truth of this latter ,i have illustrated by the most obvious examples in history4 ,i have spoke of our love of company and aversion to solitude1 examined thoroughly the various motives of them1 and made it appear that they all centre in self-love4 ,i intend now to investigate into the nature of society1 and diving into the very rise of it1 make it evident1 that not the good and amiable1 but the bad and hateful qualities of man1 his imperfections and the want of excellencies1 which other creatures are endued with1 are the first causes that made man sociable beyond other animals1 the moment after he lost ,paradise2 and that if he had remained in his primitive innocence1 and continued to enjoy the blessings that attended it1 there is no shadow of probability that he ever would have become that sociable creature he is now4 ,how necessary our appetites and passions are for the welfare of all trades and handicrafts1 has been sufficiently proved throughout the book1 and that they are our bad qualities1 or at least produce them1 nobody denies4 ,it remains then1 that ,i should set forth the variety of obstacles that hinder and perplex man in the labour he is constantly employed in1 the procuring of what he wants2 and which in other words is called the business of self-preservation3 while1 at the same time1 ,i demonstrate that the sociableness of man arises only from these two things1 viz4 the multiplicity of his desires1 and the continual opposition he meets with in his endeavours to gratify them4 ,the obstacles ,i speak of1 relate either to our own frame1 or the globe we inhabit1 ,i mean the condition of it1 since it has been cursed4 ,i have often endeavoured to contemplate separately on the two things ,i named last1 but could never keep them asunder2 they always interfere and mix with one another2 and at last make up together a frightful chaos of evil4 ,all the elements are our enemies1 water drowns and fire consumes those who unskilfully approach them4 ,the earth in a thousand places produces plants1 and other vegetables that are hurtful to man1 while she feeds and cherishes a variety of creatures that are noxious to him2 and suffers a legion of poisons to dwell within her3 but the most unkind of all the elements is that which we cannot live one moment without3 it is impossible to repeat all the injuries we receive from the wind and weather2 and though the greatest part of mankind1 have ever been employed in defending their species from the inclemency of the air1 yet no art or labour have hitherto been able to find a security against the wild rage of some meteors4 ,hurricanes1 it is true1 happen but seldom1 and few men are swallowed up by earthquakes1 or devoured by lions2 but while we escape those gigantic mischiefs1 we are persecuted by trifles4 ,what a vast variety of insects are tormenting to us2 what multitudes of them insult and make game of us with impunity6 ,the most despicable scruple not to trample and graze upon us as cattle do upon a field3 which yet is often born with1 if moderately they use their fortune2 but here again our clemency becomes a vice1 and so encroaching are their cruelty and contempt of us on our pity1 that they make laystalls of our hands1 and devour our young ones if we are not daily vigilant in pursuing and destroying them4 ,there is nothing good in all the universe to the best-designing man1 if either through mistake or ignorance he commits the least failing in the use of it2 there is no innocence or integrity1 that can protect a man from a thousand mischiefs that surround him3 on the contrary1 every thing is evil1 which art and experience have not taught us to turn into a blessing4 ,therefore how diligent in harvest time is the husbandman1 in getting in his crop and sheltering it from rain1 without which he could never have enjoyed it6 ,as seasons differ with the climates1 experience has taught us differently to make use of them1 and in one part of the globe we may see the farmer sow while he is reaping in the other2 from all which we may learn how vastly this earth must have been altered since the fall of our first parents4 ,for should we trace man from his beautiful1 his divine original1 not proud of wisdom acquired by haughty precept or tedious experience1 but endued with consummate knowledge the moment he was formed2 ,i mean the state of innocence1 in which no animal nor vegetable upon earth1 nor mineral under ground was noxious to him1 and himself secured from the injuries of the air as well as all other harms1 was contented with the necessaries of life1 which the globe he inhabited furnished him with1 without his assistance4 ,when yet not conscious of guilt1 he found himself in every place to be the well obeyed unrivalled lord of all1 and unaffected with his greatness1 was wholly wrapped up in sublime meditations on the infinity of his ,creator1 who daily did vouchsafe intelligibly to speak to him1 and visit without mischief4 ,in such a golden age1 no reason or probability can be alleged1 why mankind ever should have raised themselves into such large societies as there have been in the world1 as long as we can give any tolerable account of it4 ,where a man has every thing he desires1 and nothing to vex or disturb him1 there is nothing can be added to his happiness2 and it is impossible to name a trade1 art1 science1 dignity1 or employment1 that would not be superfluous in such a blessed state4 ,if we pursue this thought1 we shall easily perceive that no societies could have sprung from the amiable virtues and loving qualities of man2 but1 on the contrary1 that all of them must have had the origin from his wants1 his imperfections1 and the variety of his appetites3 we shall find likewise1 that the more their pride and vanity are displayed1 and all their desires enlarged1 the more capable they must be of being raised into large and vastly numerous societies4 ,was the air always as inoffensive to our naked bodies1 and as pleasant as to our thinking it is to the generality of birds in fair weather1 and man had not been affected with pride1 luxury and hypocrisy1 as well as lust1 ,i cannot see what could have put us upon the invention of clothes and houses4 ,i shall say nothing of jewels1 of plate1 painting1 sculpture1 fine furniture1 and all that rigid moralists have called unnecessary and superfluous3 but if we were not soon tired with walking a-foot1 and were as nimble as some other animals2 if men were naturally laborious1 and none unreasonable in seeking and indulging their ease1 and likewise free from other vices1 and the ground was every where even1 solid and clean1 who would have thought of coaches or ventured on a horse's back8 ,what occasion has the dolphin for a ship1 or what carriage would an eagle ask to travel in8 ,i hope the reader knows1 that by society ,i understand a body politic1 in which man either subdued by superior force1 or by persuasion drawn from his savage state1 is become a disciplined creature1 that can find his own ends in labouring for others1 and where under one head or other form of government1 each member is rendered subservient to the whole1 and all of them by cunning management are made to act as one4 ,for if by society we only mean a number of people1 that without rule or government1 should keep together1 out of a natural affection to their species1 or love of company1 as a herd of cows or a flock of sheep1 then there is not in the world a more unfit creature for society than man2 an hundred of them that should be all equals1 under no subjection1 or fear of any superior upon earth1 could never live together awake two hours without quarrelling1 and the more knowledge1 strength1 wit1 courage and resolution there was among them1 the worse it would be4 ,it is probable1 that in the wild state of nature1 parents would keep a superiority over their children1 at least while they were in strength1 and that even afterwards1 the remembrance of what the others had experienced1 might produce in them something between love and fear1 which we call reverence3 it is probable1 likewise1 that the second generation following the example of the first2 a man with a little cunning would always be able1 as long as he lived and had his senses1 to maintain a superior sway over all his own offspring and descendants1 how numerous soever they might grow4 ,but the old stock once dead1 the sons would quarrel1 and there could be no peace long before there had been war4 ,eldership in brothers is of no great force1 and the pre-eminence that is given to it1 only invented as a shift to live in peace4 ,man1 as he is a fearful animal1 naturally not rapacious1 loves peace and quiet1 and he would never fight1 if nobody offended him1 and he could have what he fights for without it4 ,to this fearful disposition1 and the aversion he has to his being disturbed1 are owing all the various projects and forms of government4 ,monarchy1 without doubt1 was the first4 ,aristocracy and democracy were two different methods of mending the inconveniencies of the first1 and a mixture of these three an improvement on all the rest4 ,but be we savages or politicians1 it is impossible that man1 mere fallen man1 should act with any other view but to please himself while he has the use of his organs1 and the greatest extravagancy either of love or despair can have no other centre4 ,there is no difference between will and pleasure in one sense1 and every motion made in spite of them must be unnatural and convulsive4 ,since1 then1 action is so confined1 and we are always forced to do what we please1 and at the same time our thoughts are free and uncontrouled1 it is impossible we could be sociable creatures without hypocrisy4 ,the proof of this is plain1 since we cannot prevent the ideas that are continually arising within us1 all civil commerce would be lost1 if1 by art and prudent dissimulation we had not learned to hide and stifle them2 and if all we think was to be laid open to others1 in the same manner as it is to ourselves1 it is impossible that1 endued with speech1 we could be sufferable to one another4 ,i am persuaded that every reader feels the truth of what ,i say2 and ,i tell my antagonist that his conscience flies in his face1 while his tongue is preparing to refute me4 ,in all civil societies men are taught insensibly to be hypocrites from their cradle2 nobody dares to own that he gets by public calamities1 or even by the loss of private persons4 ,the sexton would be stoned should he wish openly for the death of the parishioners1 though every body knew that he had nothing else to live upon4 ,to me it is a great pleasure1 when ,i look on the affairs of human life1 to behold into what various1 and often strangely opposite forms1 the hope of gain and thoughts of lucre shape men1 according to the different employments they are of1 and stations they are in4 ,how gay and merry does every face appear at a well ordered ball1 and what a solemn sadness is observed at the masquerade of a funeral6 but the undertaker is as much pleased with his gains as the dancing-master3 both are equally tired in their occupations1 and the mirth of the one is as much forced as the gravity of the other is affected4 ,those who have never minded the conversation of a spruce mercer1 and a young lady his customer that comes to his shop1 have neglected a scene of life that is very entertaining4 ,i beg of my serious reader1 that he would1 for a while1 abate a little of his gravity1 and suffer me to examine these people separately1 as to their inside1 and the different motives they act from4 ,his business is to sell as much silk as he can at a price by which he shall get what he proposes to be reasonable1 according to the customary profits of the trade4 ,as to the lady1 what she would be at is to please her fancy1 and buy cheaper by a groat or sixpence per yard than the things she wants are commonly sold at4 ,from the impression the gallantry of our sex has made upon her1 she imagines 7if she be not very deformed7 that she has a fine mien and easy behaviour1 and a peculiar sweetness of voice2 that she is handsome1 and if not beautiful1 at least more agreeable than most young women she knows4 ,as she has no pretensions to purchase the same things with less money than other people1 but what are built on her good qualities1 so she sets herself off to the best advantage her wit and discretion will let her4 ,the thoughts of love are here out of the case2 so on the one hand1 she has no room for playing the tyrant1 and giving herself angry and peevish airs1 and1 on the other1 more liberty of speaking kindly1 and being affable than she can have almost on any other occasion4 ,she knows that abundance of well-bred people come to his shop1 and endeavours to render herself as amiable as virtue and the rules of decency allow of4 ,coming with such a resolution of behaviour1 she cannot meet with any thing to ruffle her temper4 ,before her coach is yet quite stopped1 she is approached by a gentleman-like man1 that has every thing clean and fashionable about him1 who in low obeisance pays her homage1 and as soon as her pleasure is known that she has a mind to come in1 hands her into the shop1 where immediately he slips from her1 and through a by-way that remains visible only for half a moment1 with great address entrenches himself behind the counter3 here facing her1 with a profound reverence and modish phrase1 he begs the favour of knowing her commands4 ,let her say and dislike what she pleases1 she can never be directly contradicted3 she deals with a man in whom consummate patience is one of the mysteries of his trade1 and whatever trouble she creates she is sure to hear nothing but the most obliging language1 and has always before her a cheerful countenance1 where joy and respect seem to be blended with good humour1 and altogether make up an artificial serenity more engaging than untaught nature is able to produce4 ,when two persons are so well met1 the conversation must be very agreeable1 as well as extremely mannerly1 though they talk about trifles4 ,while she remains irresolute what to take1 he seems to be the same in advising her2 and is very cautious how to direct her choice2 but when once she has made it and is fixed1 he immediately becomes positive1 that it is the best of the sort1 extols her fancy1 and the more he looks upon it1 the more he wonders he should not before have discovered the pre-eminence of it over any thing he has in his shop4 ,by precept1 example1 and great application1 he has learned unobserved to slide into the inmost recesses of the soul1 sound the capacity of his customers1 and find out their blind side unknown to them3 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 purchase4 ,the greatest advantage he has over her1 lies in the most material part of the commerce between them1 the debate about the price1 which he knows to a farthing1 and she is wholly ignorant of3 therefore he no where more egregiously imposes on her understanding2 and though here he has the liberty of telling what lies he pleases1 as to the prime cost1 and the money he has refused1 yet he trusts not to them only2 but1 attacking her vanity1 makes her believe the most incredible things in the world1 concerning his own weakness and her superior abilities2 he had taken a resolution1 he says1 never to part with that piece under such a price1 but she has the power of talking him out of his goods beyond any body he ever sold to3 he protests that he loses by his silk1 but seeing that she has a fancy for it1 and is resolved to give no more1 rather than disoblige a lady he has such an uncommon value for1 he will let her have it1 and only begs that another time she will not stand so hard with him4 ,in the mean time1 the buyer1 who knows that she is no fool1 and has a voluble tongue1 is easily persuaded that she has a very winning way of talking1 and thinking it sufficient1 for the sake of good-breeding1 to disown her merit1 and in some witty repartee retort the compliment1 he makes her swallow very contentedly1 the substance of every thing he tells her4 ,the upshot is1 that1 with the satisfaction of having saved ninepence per yard1 she has bought her silk exactly at the same price as any body else might have done1 and often gives sixpence more than1 rather than not have sold it1 he would have taken4 ,it is possible that this lady1 for want of being sufficiently flattered1 for a fault she is pleased to find in his behaviour1 or perhaps the tying of his neckcloth1 or some other dislike as substantial1 may be lost1 and her custom bestowed on some other of the fraternity4 ,but where many of them live in a cluster1 it is not always easily determined which shop to go to1 and the reasons some of the fair sex have for their choice1 are often very whimsical1 and kept as great a secret4 ,we never follow our inclinations with more freedom1 than where they cannot be traced1 and it is unreasonable for others to suspect them4 ,a virtuous woman has preferred one house to all the rest1 because she had seen a handsome fellow in it1 and another of no bad character for having received greater civility before it1 than had been paid her any where else1 when she had no thoughts of buying1 and was going to ,paul's church3 for among the fashionable mercers1 the fair dealer must keep before his own door1 and to draw in random customers1 make use of no other freedom or importunities than an obsequious air1 with a submissive posture1 and perhaps a bow to every well dressed female that offers to look towards his shop4 ,what ,i have said last1 makes me think on another way of inviting customers1 the most distant in the world from what ,i have been speaking of1 ,i mean that which is practised by the watermen1 especially on those whom1 by their mien and garb1 they know to be peasants4 ,it is not unpleasant to see half a dozen people surround a man they never saw in their lives before1 and two of them that can get the nearest1 clapping each an arm over his neck1 hug him in as loving and familiar a manner1 as if he was their brother newly come home from an ,east ,india voyage2 a third lays hold of his hand1 another of his sleeve1 his coat1 the buttons of it1 or any thing he can come at1 while a fifth or a sixth1 who has scampered twice round him already1 without being able to get at him1 plants himself directly before the man in hold1 and within three inches of his nose1 contradicting his rivals with an open mouthed cry1 shows him a dreadful set of large teeth1 and a small remainder of chewed bread and cheese1 which the countryman's arrival had hindered from being swallowed4 ,at all this no offence is taken1 and the peasant justly thinks they are making much of him2 therefore1 far from opposing them1 he patiently suffers himself to be pushed or pulled which way the strength that surrounds him shall direct4 ,he has not the delicacy to find fault with a man's breath1 who has just blown out his pipe1 or a greasy head of hair that is rubbing against his chops3 ,dirt and sweat he has been used to from his cradle1 and it is no disturbance to him to hear half a score people1 some of them at his ear1 and the furthest not five foot from him1 bawl out as if he was hundred yards off3 ,he is conscious that he makes no less noise when he is merry himself1 and is secretly pleased with their boisterous usages4 ,the hawling and pulling him about he construes the way it is intended2 it is a courtship he can feel and understand3 ,he cannot help wishing them well for the esteem they seem to have for him3 ,he loves to be taken notice of1 and admires the ,londoners for being so pressing in the offers of their service to him1 for the value of threepence or less2 whereas1 in the country at the shop he uses1 he can have nothing but he must first tell them what he wants1 and1 though he lays out three or four shillings at a time1 has hardly a word spoke to him unless it be in answer to a question himself is forced to ask first4 ,this alacrity in his behalf moves his gratitude1 and1 unwilling to disoblige any1 from his heart he knows not whom to choose4 ,i have seen a man think all this1 or something like it1 as plainly as ,i could see the nose in his face2 and1 at the same time1 move along very contentedly under a load of watermen1 and with a smiling countenance carry seven or eight stone more than his own weight to the water side4 ,if the little mirth ,i have shown1 in the drawing of these two images from low life1 misbecomes me1 ,i am sorry for it1 but ,i promise not to be guilty of that fault any more1 and will now1 without loss of time1 proceed with my argument in artless dull simplicity1 and demonstrate the gross error of those1 who imagine that the social virtues1 and the amiable qualities that are praise-worthy in us1 are equally beneficial to the public as they are to the individual persons that are possessed of them1 and that the means of thriving1 and whatever conduces to the welfare and real happiness of private families1 must have the same effect upon the whole society4 ,this1 ,i confess1 ,i have laboured for all along1 and ,i flatter myself not unsuccessfully3 ,but ,i hope nobody will like a problem the worse for seeing the truth of it proved more ways than one4 ,it is certain1 that the fewer desires a man has1 and the less he covets1 the more easy he is to himself2 the more active he is to supply his own wants1 and the less he requires to be waited upon1 the more he will be beloved1 and the less trouble he is in a family2 the more he loves peace and concord1 the more charity he has for his neighbour1 and the more he shines in real virtue1 there is no doubt but that in proportion he is acceptable to ,god and man4 ,but let us be just1 what benefit can these things be of1 or what earthly good can they do1 to promote the wealth1 the glory1 and worldly greatness of nations8 ,it is the sensual courtier that sets no limits to his luxury2 the fickle strumpet that invents new fashions every week2 the haughty duchess that in equipage1 entertainments1 and all her behaviour1 would imitate a princess2 the profuse rake and lavish heir1 that scatter about their money without wit or judgment1 buy every thing they see1 and either destroy or give it away the next day2 the covetous and perjured villain that squeezed an immense treasure from the tears of widows and orphans1 and left the prodigals the money to spend3 ,it is these that are the prey and proper food of a full grown ,leviathan2 or1 in other words1 such is the calamitous condition of human affairs1 that we stand in need of the plagues and monsters ,i named1 to have all the variety of labour performed1 which the skill of men is capable of inventing in order to procure an honest livelihood to the vast multitudes of working poor1 that are required to make a large society3 ,and it is folly to imagine1 that great and wealthy nations can subsist1 and be at once powerful and polite without4 ,i protest against ,popery as much as ever ,luther and ,calvin did1 or ,queen ,elizabeth herself2 but ,i believe from my heart1 that the ,reformation has scarce been more instrumental in rendering the kingdoms and states that have embraced it1 flourishing beyond other nations1 than the silly and capricious invention of hooped and quilted petticoats4 ,but if this should be denied me by the enemies of priestly power1 at least ,i am sure that1 bar the great men who have fought for and against that layman's blessing1 it has1 from its beginning to this day1 not employed so many hands1 honest1 industrious1 labouring hands1 as the abominable improvement on female luxury1 ,i named1 has done in few years4 ,religion is one thing1 and trade is another4 ,he that gives most trouble to thousands of his neighbours1 and invents the most operose manufactures1 is1 right or wrong1 the greatest friend to the society4 ,what a bustle is there to be made in several parts of the world1 before a fine scarlet or crimson cloth can be produced2 what multiplicity of trades and artificers must be employed6 ,not only such as are obvious1 as woolcombers1 spinners1 the weaver1 the cloth worker1 the scourer1 the dyer1 the setter1 the drawer1 and the packer2 but others that are more remote1 and might seem foreign to it2 as the mill-wright1 the pewterer1 and the chemist1 which yet are all necessary1 as well as a great number of other handicrafts1 to have the tools1 utensils1 and other implements belonging to the trades already named3 ,but all these things are done at home1 and may be performed without extraordinary fatigue or danger2 the most frightful prospect is left behind1 when we reflect on the toil and hazard that are to be undergone abroad1 the vast seas we are to go over1 the different climates we are to endure1 and the several nations we must be obliged to for their assistance4 ,spain alone1 it is true1 might furnish us with wool to make the finest cloth2 but what skill and pains1 what experience and ingenuity1 are required to dye it of those beautiful colours6 ,how widely are the drugs1 and other ingredients1 dispersed through the universe that are to meet in one kettle6 ,allum1 indeed1 we have of our own2 argol we might have from the ,rhine1 and vitriol from ,hungary2 all this is in ,europe2 but then for saltpetre in quantity1 we are forced to go as far as the ,east ,indies4 ,cocheneal1 unknown to the ancients1 is not much nearer to us1 though in a quite different part of the earth3 we buy it1 it is true1 from the ,spaniards2 but not being their product1 they are forced to fetch it for us from the remotest corner of the new world in the ,east ,indies4 ,while so many sailors are broiling in the sun1 and sweltered with heat in the east and west of us1 another set of them are freezing in the north1 to fetch potashes from ,russia4 ,when we are thoroughly acquainted with all the variety of toil and labour1 the hardships and calamities that must be undergone to compass the end ,i speak of1 and we consider the vast risks and perils that are run in those voyages1 and that few of them are ever made but at the expence1 not only of the health and welfare1 but even the lives of many3 ,when we are acquainted with1 ,i say1 and duly consider the things ,i named1 it is scarce possible to conceive a tyrant so inhuman1 and void of shame1 that1 beholding things in the same view1 he should exact such terrible services from his innocent slaves2 and1 at the same time1 dare to own1 that he did it for no other reason1 than the satisfaction a man receives from having a garment made of scarlet or crimson cloth4 ,but to what height of luxury must a nation be arrived1 where not only the king's officers1 but likewise the guards1 even the private soldiers1 should have such impudent desires6 ,but if we turn the prospect1 and look on all those labours as so many voluntary actions1 belonging to different callings and occupations1 that men are brought up to for a livelihood1 and in which every one works for himself1 how much soever he may seem to labour for others3 ,if we consider1 that even the sailors who undergo the greatest hardships1 as soon as one voyage is ended1 even after shipwreck1 are looking out1 and soliciting for employment in another3 ,if we consider1 ,i say1 and look on these things in another view1 we shall find1 that the labour of the poor is so far from being a burden and an imposition upon them1 that to have employment is a blessing1 which1 in their addresses to ,heaven1 they pray for1 and to procure it for the generality of them1 is the greatest care of every legislature4 ,as children1 and even infants1 are the apes of others1 so all youth have an ardent desire of being men and women1 and become often ridiculous by their impatient endeavours to appear what every body sees they are not2 all large societies are not a little indebted to this folly for the perpetuity1 or at least long continuance1 of trades once established4 ,what pains will young people take1 and what violence will they not commit upon themselves1 to attain to insignificant1 and often blameable qualifications1 which1 for want of judgment and experience1 they admire in others1 that are superior to them in age6 ,this fondness of imitation makes them accustom themselves1 by degrees1 to the use of things that were irksome1 if not intolerable to them at first1 till they know not how to leave them1 and are often very sorry for having inconsiderately increased the necessaries of life without any necessity4 ,what estates have been got by tea and coffee6 ,what a vast traffic is drove1 what a variety of labour is performed in the world1 to the maintenance of thousands of families that altogether depend on two silly1 if not odious customs2 the taking of snuff1 and smoking of tobacco2 both which1 it is certain1 do infinitely more hurt than good to those that are addicted to them6 ,i shall go further1 and demonstrate the usefulness of private losses and misfortunes to the public1 and the folly of our wishes1 when we pretend to be most wise and serious4 ,the fire of ,london was a great calamity2 but if the carpenters1 bricklayers1 smiths1 and all1 not only that are employed in building1 but likewise those that made and dealt in the same manufactures1 and other merchandises that were burnt1 and other trades again that got by them when they were in full employ1 were to vote against those who lost by the fire1 the rejoicings would equal1 if not exceed the complaints4 ,in recruiting what is lost and destroyed by fire1 storms1 sea-fights1 sieges1 battles1 a considerable part of trade consists2 the truth of which1 and whatever ,i have said of the nature of society1 will plainly appear from what follows4 ,it would be a difficult task to enumerate all the advantages and different benefits1 that accrue to a nation1 on account of shipping and navigation2 but if we only take into consideration the ships themselves1 and every vessel great and small that is made use of for water-carriage1 from the least wherry to a first rate man of war2 the timber and hands that are employed in the building of them2 and consider the pitch1 tar1 rosin1 grease2 the masts1 yards1 sails and riggings2 the variety of smiths work2 the cables1 oars1 and every thing else belonging to them2 we shall find1 that to furnish only such a nation as ours with all the necessaries1 make up a considerable part of the traffic of ,europe1 without speaking of the stores and ammunition of all sorts1 that are consumed in them1 or the mariners1 waterman and others1 with their families1 that are maintained by them4 ,but should we1 on the other hand1 take a view of the manifold mischiefs and variety of evils1 moral as well as natural1 that befal nations on the score of seafaring1 and their commerce with strangers1 the prospect would be very frightful2 and could we suppose a large populous island1 that should be wholly unacquainted with ships and sea affairs1 but otherwise a wise and well-governed people2 and that some angel1 or their genius1 should lay before them a scheme or draught1 where they might see on the one side1 all the riches and real advantages that would be acquired by navigation in a thousand years2 and on the other1 the wealth and lives that would be lost1 and all the other calamities1 that would be unavoidably sustained on account of it during the same time1 ,i am confident1 they would look upon ships with horror and detestation1 and that their prudent rulers would severely forbid the making and inventing all buildings or machines to go to sea with1 of what shape or denomination soever1 and prohibit all such abominable contrivances on great penalties1 if not the pain of death4 ,but to let alone the necessary consequence of foreign trade1 the corruption of manners1 as well as plagues1 poxes1 and other diseases1 that are brought to us by shipping1 should we only cast our eyes on what is either to be imputed to the wind and weather1 the treachery of the seas1 the ice of the north1 the vermin of the south1 the darkness of nights1 and unwholesomeness of climates1 or else occasioned by the want of good provisions1 and the faults of mariners1 and unskilfulness of some1 and the neglect and drunkenness of others2 and should we consider the losses of men and treasure swallowed up in the deep1 the tears and necessities of widows and orphans made by the sea1 the ruin of merchants and the consequences1 the continual anxieties that parents and wives are in for the safety of their children and husbands1 and not forget the many pangs and heart-aches that are felt throughout a trading nation1 by owners and insurers1 at every blast of wind2 should we cast our eyes1 ,i say1 on these things1 consider with due attention and give them the weight they deserve1 would it not be amazing1 how a nation of thinking people should talk of their ships and navigation as a peculiar blessing to them1 and placing an uncommon felicity in having an infinity of vessels dispersed through the wide world1 and always some going to and others coming from every part of the universe8 ,but let us once1 in our consideration on these things1 confine ourselves to what the ships suffer only1 the vessels themselves1 with their rigging and appurtenances1 without thinking on the freight they carry1 or the hands that work them1 and we shall find that the damage sustained that way only1 is very considerable1 and must one year with another amount to vast sums2 the ships that are foundered at sea1 split against rocks and swallowed up by sands1 some by the fierceness of tempests altogether1 others by that and the want of pilots1 experience1 and knowledge of the coasts3 the masts that are blown down1 or forced to be cut and thrown overboard1 the yards1 sails1 and cordage of different sizes that are destroyed by storms1 and the anchors that are lost3 add to these the necessary repairs of leaks sprung1 and other hurts received from the rage of winds1 and the violence of the waves3 many ships are set on fire by carelessness1 and the effects of strong liquors1 which none are more addicted to than sailors3 sometimes unhealthy climates1 at others the badness of provision breed fatal distempers1 that sweep away the greatest part of the crew1 and not a few ships are lost for want of hands4 ,these are all calamities inseparable from navigation1 and seem to be great impediments that clog the wheels of foreign commerce4 ,how happy would a merchant think himself1 if his ships should always have fine weather1 and the wind he wished for1 and every mariner he employed1 from the highest to the lowest1 be a knowing experienced sailor1 and a careful1 sober1 good man6 ,was such a felicity to be had for prayers1 what owner of ships is there1 or dealer in ,europe1 nay1 the whole world1 who would not be all day long teazing ,heaven to obtain such a blessing for himself1 without regard to what detriment it would do to others8 ,such a petition would certainly be a very unconscionable one2 yet where is the man who imagines not that he has a right to make it8 ,and therefore1 as every one pretends to an equal claim to those favours1 let us1 without reflecting on the impossibility of its being true1 suppose all their prayers effectual and their wishes answered1 and afterwards examine into the result of such a happiness4 ,ships would last as long as timber houses to the full1 because they are as strongly built1 and the latter are liable to suffer by high winds and other storms1 which the first1 by our supposition1 are not to be3 so that1 before there would be any real occasion for new ships1 the master builders now in being1 and every body under them1 that is set to work about them1 would all die a natural death1 if they were not starved or come to some untimely end3 for1 in the first place1 all ships having prosperous gales1 and never waiting for the wind1 they would make very quick voyages both out and home3 secondly1 no merchandises would be damaged by the sea1 or by stress of weather thrown overboard1 but the entire lading would always come safe ashore2 and hence it would follow1 that three parts in four of the merchantmen already made1 would be superfluous for the present1 and the stock of ships that are now in the world1 serve a vast many years4 ,masts and yards would last as long as the vessels themselves1 and we should not need to trouble ,norway on that score a great while yet4 ,the sails and rigging1 indeed1 of the few ships made use of would wear out1 but not a quarter part so fast as now they do1 for they often suffer more in one hour's storm1 than in ten days fair weather4 ,anchors and cables there would be seldom any occasion for1 and one of each would last a ship time out of mind3 this article alone1 would yield many a tedious holiday to the anchor-smiths and the rope-yards4 ,this general want of consumption would have such an influence on the timber-merchants1 and all that import iron1 sail-cloth1 hemp1 pitch1 tar1 c4 that four parts in five of what1 in the beginning of this reflection on sea-affairs1 ,i said1 made a considerable branch of the traffic of ,europe1 would be entirely lost4 ,i have only touched hitherto on the consequences of this blessing in relation to shipping1 but it would be detrimental to all other branches of trade besides1 and destructive to the poor of every country1 that exports any thing of their own growth or manufacture4 ,the goods and merchandises that every year go to the deep1 that are spoiled at sea by salt water1 by heat1 by vermine1 destroyed by fire1 or lost to the merchant by other accidents1 all owing to storms or tedious voyages1 or else the neglect or rapacity of sailors2 such goods1 ,i say1 and merchandises are a considerable part of what every year is sent abroad throughout the world1 and must have employed great multitudes of poor1 before they could come on board4 ,a hundred bales of cloth that are burnt or sunk in the ,mediterranean1 are as beneficial to the poor in ,england1 as if they had safely arrived at ,smyrna or ,aleppo1 and every yard of them had been retailed on the grand ,signior's dominions4 ,the merchant may break1 and by him the clothier1 the dyer1 the packer1 and other tradesmen1 the middling people1 may suffer2 but the poor that were set to work about them can never lose4 ,day-labourers commonly receive their earnings once a-week1 and all the working people that were employed1 either in any of the various branches of the manufacture itself1 or the several land and water carriages it requires to be brought to perfection1 from the sheep's back1 to the vessel it was entered in1 were paid1 at least much the greatest part of them1 before the parcel came on board4 ,should any of my readers draw conclusions in infinitum1 from my assertions1 that goods sunk or burnt are as beneficial to the poor1 as if they had been well sold and put to their proper uses1 ,i would count him a caviller and not worth answering3 should it always rain and the sun never shine1 the fruits of the earth would soon be rotten and destroyed2 and yet it is no paradox to affirm1 that1 to have grass or corn1 rain is as necessary as the sunshine4 ,in what manner this blessing of fair winds and fine weather1 would affect the mariners themselves1 and the breed of sailors1 may be easily conjectured from what has been said already4 ,as there would hardly one ship in four be made use of1 so the vessels themselves being always exempt from storms1 fewer hands would be required to work them1 and consequently five in six of the seamen we have might be spared1 which in this nation1 most employments of the poor being overstocked1 would be but an untoward article4 ,as soon as those superfluous seamen should be extinct1 it would be impossible to man such large fleets as we could at present3 but ,i do not look upon this as a detriment1 or the least inconveniency3 for the reduction of mariners1 as to numbers being general throughout the world1 all the consequence would be1 that in case of war1 the maritime powers would be obliged to fight with fewer ships1 which would be an happiness instead of an evil3 and would you carry this felicity to the highest pitch of perfection1 it is but to add one desirable blessing more1 and no nation shall ever fight at all3 the blessing ,i hint at is1 what all good ,christians are bound to pray for1 viz4 that all princes and states would be true to their oaths and promises1 and just to one another1 as well as their own subjects2 that they might have a greater regard for the dictates of conscience and religion1 than those of state politics and worldly wisdom1 and prefer the spiritual welfare of others to their own carnal desires1 and the honesty1 the safety1 the peace and tranquillity of the nations they govern1 to their own love of glory1 spirit of revenge1 avarice1 and ambition4 ,the last paragraph will to many seem a digression1 that makes little for my purpose2 but what ,i mean by it1 is to demonstrate that goodness1 integrity1 and a peaceful disposition in rulers and governors of nations1 are not the proper qualifications to aggrandize them1 and increase their numbers2 any more than the uninterrupted series of success that every private person would be blest with1 if he could1 and which ,i have shown would be injurious and destructive to a large society1 that should place a felicity in worldly greatness1 and being envied by their neighbours1 and value themselves upon their honour and their strength4 ,no man needs to guard himself against blessings1 but calamities require hands to avert them4 ,the amiable qualities of man put none of the species upon stirring3 his honesty1 his love of company1 his goodness1 content and frugality1 are so many comforts to an indolent society1 and the more real and unaffected they are1 the more they keep every thing at rest and peace1 and the more they will every where prevent trouble and motion itself4 ,the same almost may be said of the gifts and munificence of ,heaven1 and all the bounties and benefits of nature3 this is certain1 that the more extensive they are1 and the greater plenty we have of them1 the more we save our labour4 ,but the necessities1 the vices1 and imperfections of man1 together with the various inclemencies of the air and other elements1 contain in them the seeds of all arts1 industry and labours3 it is the extremities of heat and cold1 the inconstancy and badness of seasons1 the violence and uncertainty of winds1 the vast power and treachery of water1 the rage and untractableness of fire1 and the stubbornness and sterility of the earth1 that rack our invention1 how we shall either avoid the mischiefs they may produce1 or correct the malignity of them1 and turn their several forces to our own advantage a thousand different ways2 while we are employed in supplying the infinite variety of our wants1 which will ever be multiplied as our knowledge is enlarged1 and our desires increase4 ,hunger1 thirst1 and nakedness1 are the first tyrants that force us to stir3 afterwards1 our pride1 sloth1 sensuality1 and fickleness1 are the great patrons that promote all arts and sciences1 trades1 handicrafts and callings2 while the great task-masters1 necessity1 avarice1 envy1 and ambition1 each in the class that belongs to him1 keep the members of the society to their labour1 and make them all submit1 most of them cheerfully1 to the drudgery of their station2 kings and princes not excepted4 ,the greater the variety of trades and manufactures the more operose they are1 and the more they are divided in many branches1 the greater numbers may be contained in a society without being in one another's way1 and the more easily they may be rendered a rich1 potent1 and flourishing people4 ,few virtues employ any hands1 and therefore they may render a small nation good1 but they can never make a great one4 ,to be strong and laborious1 patient in difficulties1 and assiduous in all business1 are commendable qualities2 but as they do their own work1 so they are their own reward1 and neither art nor industry have ever paid their compliments to them2 whereas the excellency of human thought and contrivance1 has been1 and is yet no where more conspicuous than in the variety of tools and instruments of workmen and artificers1 and the multiplicity of engines1 that were all invented either to assist the weakness of man1 to correct his many imperfections1 to gratify his laziness1 or obviate his impatience4 ,it is in morality as it is in nature1 there is nothing so perfectly good in creatures1 that it cannot be hurtful to any one of the society1 nor any thing so entirely evil1 but it may prove beneficial to some part or other of the creation3 so that things are only good and evil in reference to something else1 and according to the light and position they are placed in4 ,what pleases us is good in that regard1 and by this rule every man wishes well for himself to the best of his capacity1 with little respect to his neighbour4 ,there never was any rain yet1 though in a very dry season when public prayers had been made for it1 but somebody or other who wanted to go abroad1 wished it might be fair weather only for that day4 ,when the corn stands thick in the spring1 and the generality of the country rejoice at the pleasing object1 the rich farmer who kept his last year's crop for a better market1 pines at the sight1 and inwardly grieves at the prospect of a plentiful harvest4 ,nay1 we shall often hear your idle people openly wish for the possessions of others1 and not to be injurious forsooth add this wise proviso1 that it should be without detriment to the owners3 but ,i am afraid they often do it without any such restriction in their hearts4 ,it is a happiness that the prayers as well as wishes of most people1 are insignificant and good for nothing2 or else the only thing that could keep mankind fit for society1 and the world from falling into confusion1 would be the impossibility that all the petitions made to ,heaven should be granted4 ,a dutiful pretty young gentleman newly come from his travels1 lies at the ,briel waiting with impatience for an easterly wind1 to waft him over to ,england1 where a dying father1 who wants to embrace and give him his blessing before he yields his breath1 lies hoaning after him1 melted with grief and tenderness3 in the mean while a ,british minister1 who is to take care of the ,protestant interest in ,germany1 is riding post to ,harwich1 and in violent haste to be at ,ratisbone before the diet breaks up4 ,at the same time a rich fleet lies ready for the ,mediterranean1 and a fine squadron is bound for the ,baltic4 ,all these things may probably happen at once1 at least there is no difficulty in supposing they should4 ,if these people are not atheists1 or very great reprobates1 they will all have some good thoughts before they go to sleep1 and consequently about bed-time1 they must all differently pray for a fair wind and a prosperous voyage4 ,i do not say but it is their duty1 and it is possible they may be all heard1 but ,i am sure they cannot be all served at the same time4 ,after this1 ,i flatter myself to have demonstrated that1 neither the friendly qualities and kind affections that are natural to man1 nor the real virtues he is capable of acquiring by reason and self-denial1 are the foundation of society2 but that what we call evil in this world1 moral as well as natural1 is the grand principle that makes us sociable creatures1 the solid basis1 the life and support of all trades and employments without exception3 that there we must look for the true origin of all arts and sciences1 and that the moment evil ceases1 the society must be spoiled1 if not totally dissolved4 ,i could add a thousand things to enforce1 and further illustrate this truth1 with abundance of pleasure2 but for fear of being troublesome1 ,i shall make an end1 though ,i confess that ,i have not been half so solicitous to gain the approbation of others1 as ,i have studied to please myself in this amusement3 yet if ever ,i hear1 that by following this diversion ,i have given any to the intelligent reader1 it will always add to the satisfaction ,i have received in the performance4 ,in the hope my vanity forms of this1 ,i leave him with regret1 and conclude with repeating the seeming paradox1 the substance of which is advanced in the title page2 that private vices1 by the dexterous management of a skilful politician1 may be turned into public benefits4 ,a ,,vindication ,,of ,,the ,book1 from the ,aspersions contained in a ,presentment of the ,grand ,jury of ,middlesex1 ,and an ,abusive ,letter to ,lord ,c---- ,that the reader may be fully instructed in the merits of the cause between my adversaries and myself1 it is requisite that1 before he sees my defence1 he should know the whole charge1 and have before him all the accusations against me at large4 ,the ,presentment of the ,grand ,jury is worded thus3 ,we the ,grand ,jury for the county of ,middlesex1 have1 with the greatest sorrow and concern1 observed the many books and pamphlets that are almost every week published against the sacred articles of our holy religion1 and all discipline and order in the church1 and the manner in which this is carried on1 seems to us to have a direct tendency to propagate infidelity1 and consequently corruption of all morals4 ,we are justly sensible of the goodness of the ,almighty1 that has preserved us from the plague1 which has visited our neighbouring nation1 and for which great mercy1 his ,majesty was graciously pleased to command1 by his proclamation1 that thanks should be returned to ,heaven2 but how provoking must it be to the ,almighty1 that his mercies and deliverances extended to this nation1 and our thanksgiving that was publicly commanded for it1 should be attended with such flagrant impieties4 ,we know of nothing that can be of greater service to his ,majesty1 and the ,protestant succession 7which is happily established among us for the defence of the ,christian ,religion71 than the suppression of blasphemy and profaneness1 which has a direct tendency to subvert the very foundation on which his ,majesty's government is fixed4 ,so restless have these zealots for infidelity been in their diabolical attempts against religion1 that they have1 ,first1 ,openly blasphemed and denied the doctrine of the ever ,blessed ,trinity1 endeavouring1 by species pretences1 to revive the ,arian heresy1 which was never introduced into any nation1 but the vengeance of ,heaven pursued it4 ,secondly1 ,they affirm an absolute fate1 and deny the ,providence and government of the ,almighty in the world4 ,thirdly1 ,they have endeavoured to subvert all order and discipline of the church1 and by vile and unjust reflections on the clergy1 they strive to bring contempt on all religion2 that by the libertinism of their opinions they may encourage and draw others into the immoralities of their practice4 ,fourthly1 ,that a general libertinism may the more effectually be established1 the universities are decried1 and all instructions of youth in the principles of the ,christian religion are exploded with the greatest malice and falsity4 ,fifthly1 ,the more effectually to carry on these works of darkness1 studied artifices1 and invented colours1 have been made use of to run down religion and virtue as prejudicial to society1 and detrimental to the state2 and to recommend luxury1 avarice1 pride1 and all kind of vices1 as being necessary to public welfare1 and not tending to the destruction of the constitution3 nay1 the very stews themselves have had strained apologies and forced encomiums made in their favour1 and produced in print1 with design1 we conceive1 to debauch the nation4 ,these principles having a direct tendency to the subversion of all religion and civil government1 our duty to the ,almighty1 our love to our country1 and regard to our oaths1 oblige us to present as the publisher of a book1 intituled the ,fable of the ,bees2 or ,private ,vices ,public ,benefits4 #b;d4 ,edit4 #agbc4 ,and also as the publisher of a weekly paper1 called the ,british ,journal1 ,numb4 #bf1 #ce1 #cf1 and #ci4 ,the ,letter ,i complain of is this3 ,my ,lord1 ,it is welcome news to all the king's loyal subjects and true friends to the established government and succession in the illustrious house of ,hanover1 that your ,lordship is said to be contriving some effectual means of securing us from the dangers1 wherewith his ,majesty's happy government seems to be threatened by ,catiline1 under the name of ,cato2 by the writer of a book1 intituled1 ,the ,fable of the ,bees1 c4 and by others of their fraternity1 who are undoubtedly useful friends to the ,pretender1 and diligent1 for his sake1 in labouring to subvert and ruin our constitution1 under a specious pretence of defending it4 ,your ,lordship's wise resolution1 totally to suppress such impious writings1 and the direction already given for having them presented1 immediately1 by some of the grand juries1 will effectually convince the nation1 that no attempts against ,christianity will be suffered or endured here4 ,and this conviction will at once rid men's minds of the uneasiness which this flagitious race of writers has endeavoured to raise in them2 will therefore be a firm bulwark to the ,protestant religion2 will effectually defeat the projects and hopes of the ,pretender2 and best secure us against any change in the ministry4 ,and no faithful ,briton could be unconcerned1 if the people should imagine any the least neglect in any single person bearing a part in the ministry1 or begin to grow jealous1 that any thing could be done1 which is not done1 in defending their religion from every the least appearance of danger approaching towards it4 ,and1 my ,lord1 this jealousy might have been apt to rise1 if no measures had been taken to discourage and crush the open advocates of irreligion4 ,it is no easy matter to get jealousy out of one's brains1 when it is once got into them4 ,jealousy1 my ,lord6 it is as furious a fiend as any of them all4 ,i have seen a little thin weak woman so invigorated by a fit of jealousy1 that five grenadiers could not hold her4 ,my ,lord1 go on with your just methods of keeping the people clear of this cursed jealousy3 for amongst the various kinds and occasions of it1 that which concerns their religion1 is the most violent1 flagrant1 frantic sort of all2 and accordingly has1 in former reigns1 produced those various mischiefs1 which your ,lordship has faithfully determined to prevent1 dutifully regarding the royal authority1 and conforming to the example of his ,majesty1 who has graciously given directions 7which are well known to your ,lordship7 for the preserving of unity in the church2 and the purity of the ,christian faith4 ,it is in vain to think that the people of ,england will ever give up their religion1 or be very fond of any ministry that will not support it1 as the wisdom of this ministry has done1 against such audacious attacks as are made upon it by the scribblers2 for scribbler1 your ,lordship knows1 is the just appellation of every author1 who1 under whatever plausible appearance of good sense1 attempts to undermine the religion1 and therefore the content and quiet1 the peace and happiness of his fellow-subjects1 by subtle and artful1 and fallacious arguments and insinuations4 ,may ,heaven avert those insufferable miseries1 which the ,church of ,rome would bring upon us6 tyranny is the bane of human society1 and there is no tyranny heavier than that of the triple crown4 ,and1 therefore1 this free and happy people has justly conceived an utter abhorrence and dread of ,popery1 and of every thing that looks like encouragement or tendency to it2 but they do also abhor and dread the violence offered to ,christianity itself1 by our ,british ,catilines1 who shelter their treacherous designs against it1 under the false colours of regard and good will to our blessed ,protestant religion1 while they demonstrate1 too plainly demonstrate1 that the title of ,protestants does not belong to them1 unless it can belong to those who are in effect protestors against all religion4 ,and really the people cannot be much blamed for being a little unwilling to part with their religion3 for they tell ye that there is a ,god2 and that ,god governs the world2 and that he is wont to bless or blast a kingdom1 in proportion to the degrees of religion or irreligion prevailing in it4 ,your ,lordship has a fine collection of books2 and1 which is a finer thing still1 you do certainly understand them1 and can turn to an account of any important affair in a trice4 ,i would therefore fain know1 whether your ,lordship can show1 from any writer1 let him be as profane as the scribblers would have him1 that any one empire1 kingdom1 country1 or province1 great or small1 did not dwindle and sink1 and was confounded1 when it once failed of providing studiously for the support of religion4 ,the scribblers talk much of the ,roman government1 and liberty1 and the spirit of the old ,romans4 ,but it is undeniable1 that their most plausible talk of these things is all pretence1 and grimace1 and an artifice to serve the purposes of irreligion2 and by consequence to render the people uneasy1 and ruin the kingdom4 ,for if they did in reality esteem1 and would faithfully recommend to their countrymen1 the sentiments and principles1 the main purposes and practices of the wise and prosperous ,romans1 they would1 in the first place1 put us in mind1 that old ,rome was as remarkable for observing and promoting natural religion1 as new ,rome has been for corrupting that which is revealed4 ,and as the old ,romans did signally recommend themselves to the favour of heaven1 by their faithful care of religion2 so were they abundantly convinced1 and did accordingly acknowledge1 with universal consent1 that their care of religion was the great means #h of ,god's preserving the empire1 and crowning it with conquest and success1 prosperity and glory4 ,hence it was1 that when their orators were bent upon exerting their utmost in moving and persuading the people1 upon any occasion1 they ever put them in mind of their religion1 if that could be any way affected by the point in debate2 not doubting that the people would determine in their favour1 if they could but demonstrate1 that the safety of religion depended upon the success of their cause4 ,and1 indeed1 neither the ,romans1 nor any other nation upon earth1 did ever suffer their established religion to be openly ridiculed1 exploded1 or opposed3 and ,i am sure1 your ,lordship would not1 for all the world1 that this thing would be done with impunity amongst us1 which was never endured in the world before4 ,did ever any man1 since the blessed revelation of the gospel1 run riot upon ,christianity1 as some men1 nay1 and some few women too1 have lately done8 must the devil grow rampant at this rate1 and not to be called coram nobis8 ,why should not he content himself to carry off people in the common way1 the way of cursing and swearing1 ,sabbath breaking and cheating1 bribery1 and hypocrisy1 drunkenness and whoring1 and such kind of things as he used to do8 never let him domineer in mens mouths and writings1 as he does now1 with loud1 tremendous infidelity1 blasphemy and profaneness1 enough to frighten the ,king's subjects out of their wits4 ,we are now come to a short question3 ,god or the devil8 that is the word2 and time will show1 who and who goes together4 ,thus much may be said at present1 that those have abundantly shown their spirit of opposition to sacred things1 who have not only inveighed against the national profession and exercise of religion2 and endeavoured1 with bitterness and dexterity1 to render it odious and contemptible1 but are solicitous to hinder multitudes of the natives of this island from having the very seeds of religion sown among them with advantage4 ,arguments are urged1 with the utmost vehemence1 against the education of poor children in the charity schools1 though there hath not one just reason been offered against the provision made for that education4 ,the things that have been objected against it are not1 in fact1 true2 and nothing ought to be regarded1 by serious and wise men1 as a weighty or just argument1 if it is not a true one4 ,how hath ,catiline the confidence left to look any man in the face1 after he hath spent more confidence than most mens whole stock amounts to1 in saying1 that this pretended charity has1 in effect1 destroyed all other charities1 which were before given to the aged1 sick1 and impotent4 ,it seems pretty clear1 that if those1 who do not contribute to any charity school1 are become more uncharitable to any other object than formerly they were1 their want of charity to the one1 is not owing to their contribution to the other4 ,and as to those who do contribute to these schools2 they are so far from being more sparing in their relief of other objects1 than they were before1 that the poor widows1 the aged and the impotent do plainly receive more relief from them1 in proportion to their numbers and abilities1 than from any the same numbers of men under the same circumstances of fortune1 who do not concern themselves with charity schools1 in any respect1 but in condemning and decrying them4 ,i will meet ,catiline at the ,grecian coffee-house any day in the week1 and by an enumeration of particular persons1 in as great a number as he pleaseth1 demonstrate the truth of what ,i say4 ,but ,i do not much depend upon his giving me the meeting1 because it is his business1 not to encourage demonstrations of the truth1 but to throw disguises upon it2 otherwise1 he never could have allowed himself1 after representing the charity schools as intended to breed up children to reading and writing1 and a sober behaviour1 that they may be qualified to be servants1 immediately to add these words1 a sort of idle and rioting vermin1 by which the kingdom is already almost devoured1 and are become every where a public nuisance1 c4 ,what8 ,is it owing to the charity schools1 that servants are become so idle1 such rioting vermin1 such a public nuisance2 that women-servants turn whores1 and the men-servants robbers1 house-breakers1 and sharpers8 7as he says they commonly do74 ,is this owing to the charity schools8 or1 if it is not1 how comes he to allow himself the liberty of representing these schools as a means of increasing this load of mischief1 which is indeed too plainly fallen upon the public8 ,the imbibing principles of virtue hath not1 usually1 been thought the chief occasion of running into vice4 ,if the early knowledge of truth1 and of our obligations to it1 were the surest means of departing from it1 nobody would doubt1 that the knowledge of truth was instilled into ,catiline very early1 and with the utmost care4 ,it is a good pretty thing in him to spread a report1 and to lay so much stress upon it as he does1 that there is more collected at the church doors in a day1 to make these poor boys and girls appear in caps and livery-coats1 than for all the poor in a year4 ,o rare ,catiline6 ,this point you will carry most swimmingly2 for you have no witnesses against you1 nor any living soul to contradict you1 except the collectors and overseers of the poor1 and all other principal inhabitants of most of the parishes1 where any charity schools are in ,england4 ,the jest of it is1 my ,lord1 that these scribblers would still be thought good moral men4 ,but1 when men make it their business to mislead and deceive their neighbours1 and that in matters of moment1 by distorting and disguising the truth1 by misrepresentations and false insinuations2 if such men are not guilty of usurpation1 while they take upon them the character of good moral men1 then it is not immoral1 in any man1 to be false and deceitful1 in cases where the law cannot touch him for being so1 and morality bears no relation to truth and fair dealing4 ,however1 ,i shall not be very willing to meet one of these moral men upon ,hounslow-heath1 if ,i should happen to ride that way without pistols4 ,for ,i have a notion1 that they who have no conscience in one point1 do not much abound with it in another4 ,your ,lordship1 who judges accurately of men1 as well as books1 will easily imagine1 if you had no other knowledge of the charity schools1 that there must be something very excellent in them because such kind of men as these are so warm in opposing them4 ,they tell you1 that these schools are hindrances to husbandry and to manufacture4 ,as to husbandry2 the children are not kept in the schools longer than till they are of age and strength to perform the principal parts of it1 or to bear constant labour in it2 and even while they are under this course of education1 your ,lordship may depend upon it1 that they shall never be hindered from working in the fields1 or being employed in such labour as they are capable of1 in any parts of the year1 when they can get such employment for the support of their parents and themselves4 ,in this case1 the parents1 in the several counties1 are proper judges of their several situations and circumstances1 and at the same time1 not so very fond of their children getting a little knowledge1 rather than a little money1 but that they will find other employment for them than going to school1 whenever they can get a penny by so doing4 ,and the case is the same as to the manufactures2 the trustees of the charity schools1 and the parents of the children bred in them1 would be thankful to those gentlemen who make the objection1 if they would assist in removing it1 by subscribing to a fund for joining the employment of manufacture1 to the business of learning to read and write in the charity schools4 ,this would be a noble work3 it is already effected by the supporters of some charity schools1 and is aimed at1 and earnestly desired by all the rest3 but ,rome was not built in a day4 ,till this great thing can be brought about1 let the masters and managers of the manufactures in the several places of the kingdom1 be so charitable as to employ the poor children for a certain number of hours in every day1 in the respective manufactures1 while the trustees are taking care to fill up their other hours of the day1 in the usual duties of the charity schools4 ,it is an easy matter for party-men1 for designing and perverted minds1 to invent colourable1 fallacious arguments1 and to offer railing1 under the appearance of reasoning1 against the best things in the world4 ,but undoubtedly1 no impartial man1 who is affected with a serious sense of goodness1 and a real love of his country1 can think this proper and just view of the charity schools1 liable to any just weighty objection1 or refuse to contribute his endeavours to improve and raise them to that perfection which is proposed in them4 ,in the mean time1 let no man be so weak or so wicked as to deny1 that when poor children cannot meet with employment in any other honest way1 rather than suffer their tender age to be spent in idleness1 or in learning the arts of lying1 and swearing1 and stealing1 it is true charity to them1 and good service done to our country1 to employ them in learning the principles of religion and virtue1 till their age and strength will enable them to become servants in families1 or to be engaged in husbandry1 or manufacture1 or any kind of mechanic trade or laborious employment2 for to these laborious employments are the charity children generally1 if not always turned1 as soon as they become capable of them3 and therefore ,catiline may be pleased to retract his objection concerning shop-keepers1 or retailers of commodities1 wherein he has affirmed1 that their employments1 which he says ought to fall to the share of children of their own degree1 are mostly anticipated and engrossed by the managers of the charity schools4 ,he must excuse my acquainting your ,lordship1 that this affirmation is in fact directly false1 which is an inconvenience very apt to fall upon his affirmations1 as it has particularly done upon one of them more1 which ,i would mention4 ,for he is not ashamed roundly to assert1 ,that the principles of our common people are debauched in our charity schools1 who are taught1 as soon as they can speak1 to blabber out ,high-church and ,ormond1 and so are bred up to be traitors before they know what treason signifies4 ,your ,lordship1 and other persons of integrity1 whose words are the faithful representatives of their meaning1 would now think1 if ,i had not given you a key to ,catiline's talk1 that he has been fully convinced1 that the children in the charity schools are bred up to be traitors4 ,my ,lord1 if any one master be suffered by the trustees to continue in any charity school1 against whom proof can be brought1 that he is disaffected to the government1 or that he does not as faithfully teach the children obedience and loyalty to the ,king1 as any other duty in the catechism1 then ,i will gratify ,catiline with a licence to pull down the schools1 and hang up the masters1 according to his heart's desire4 ,these1 and such things as these1 are urged with the like bitterness1 and as little truth1 in the book mentioned above1 viz4 ,the ,fable of the ,bees2 or1 ,private ,vices1 ,public ,benefits1 c4 ,catiline explodes the fundamental articles of faith1 impiously comparing the doctrine of the blessed ,trinity to fee-fa-fum3 this profligate author of the ,fable is not only an auxiliary to ,catiline in opposition to faith1 but has taken upon him to tear up the very foundations of moral virtue1 and establish vice in its room4 ,the best physician in the world did never labour more1 to purge the natural body of bad qualities1 than this bumble-bee has done to purge the body-politic of good ones4 ,he himself bears testimony to the truth of this charge against him3 for when he comes to the conclusion of his book1 he makes this observation upon himself and his performance3 ,after this1 ,i flatter myself to have demonstrated1 that neither the friendly qualities and kind affections that are natural to man1 nor the real virtues he is capable of acquiring by reason and self-denial1 are the foundation of society2 but that what we call evil in this world1 moral as well as natural1 is the grand principle that makes us sociable creatures1 the solid basis1 the life and support of all trades and employments without exception3 that there we must look for the true origin of all arts and sciences1 and that the moment evil ceases1 the society must be spoiled1 if not totally dissolved4 ,now1 my ,lord1 you see the grand design1 the main drift of ,catiline and his confederates2 now the scene opens1 and the secret springs appear2 now the fraternity adventure to speak out1 and surely no band of men ever dared to speak at this rate before2 now you see the true cause of all their enmity to the poor charity schools2 it is levelled against religion3 religion1 my ,lord1 which the schools are instituted to promote1 and which this confederacy is resolved to destroy2 for the schools are certainly one of the greatest instruments of religion and virtue1 one of the firmest bulwarks against ,popery1 one of the best recommendations of this people to the ,divine favour1 and therefore one of the greatest blessings to our country of any thing that has been set on foot since our happy ,reformation and deliverance from the idolatry and tyranny of ,rome4 ,if any trivial inconvenience did arise from so excellent a work1 as some little inconvenience attends all human institutions and affairs1 the excellency of the work would still be matter of joy1 and find encouragement with all the wise and the good1 who despise such insignificant objections against it1 as other men are not ashamed to raise and defend4 ,now your ,lordship also sees the true cause of the satire1 which is continually formed against the clergy1 by ,catiline and his confederates4 ,why should ,mr4 ,hall's conviction and execution be any more an objection against the clergy1 than ,mr4 ,layer's against the gentlemen of the long robe8 ,why1 because the profession of the law does not immediately relate to religion3 and therefore ,catiline will allow1 that if any persons of that profession should be traitors1 or otherwise vicious1 all the rest may1 notwithstanding the iniquity of a brother1 be as loyal and virtuous as any other subjects in the ,king's dominions3 but because matters of religion are the professed concern1 and the employment of the clergy2 therefore ,catiline's logic makes it out1 as clear as the day1 that if any of them be disaffected to the government1 all the rest are so too2 or if any of them be chargeable with vice1 this consequence from it is plain1 that all or most of the rest are as vicious as the devil can make them4 ,i shall not trouble your ,lordship with a particular vindication of the clergy1 nor is there any reason that ,i should1 for they are already secure of your ,lordship's good affection to them1 and they are able to vindicate themselves wheresoever such a vindication is wanted1 being as faithful1 and virtuous1 and learned1 a body of men as any in ,europe2 and yet they suspend the publication of arguments in a solemn defence of themselves1 because they neither expect nor desire approbation and esteem from impious and abandoned men2 and1 at the same time1 they cannot doubt that all persons1 not only of great penetration1 but of common sense1 do now clearly see1 that the arrows shot against the clergy are intended to wound and destroy the divine institution of the ministerial offices1 and to extirpate the religion which the sacred offices were appointed to preserve and promote4 ,this was always supposed and suspected by every honest and impartial man2 but it is now demonstrated by those who before had given occasion to such suspicions1 for they have now openly declared1 that faith1 in the principal articles of it1 is not only needless1 but ridiculous1 that the welfare of human society must sink and perish under the encouragement of virtue1 and that immorality is the only firm foundation whereon the happiness of mankind can be built and subsist4 ,the publication of such tenets as these1 an open avowed proposal to extirpate the ,christian faith and all virtue1 and to fix moral evil for the basis of the government1 is so stunning1 so shocking1 so frightful1 so flagrant an enormity1 that if it should be imputed to us as a national guilt1 the ,divine vengeance must inevitably fall upon us4 ,and how far this enormity would become a national guilt1 if it should pass disregarded and unpunished1 a casuist less skilful and discerning than your ,lordship may easily guess4 ,and1 no doubt1 your ,lordship's good judgment1 in so plain and important a case1 has made you1 like a wise and faithful patriot1 resolve to use your utmost endeavours in your high station1 to defend religion from the bold attacks made upon it4 ,as soon as ,i have seen a copy of the bill1 for the better security of his ,majesty and his happy government1 by the better security of religion in ,great ,britain1 your ,lordship's just scheme of politics1 your love of your country1 and your great services done to it1 shall again be acknowledged by1 ,my ,lord1 ,your most faithful humble ,servant2 ,theophilus ,philo-,britannus4 ,these violent accusations1 and the great clamour every where raised against the book1 by governors1 masters1 and other champions of charity schools1 together with the advice of friends1 and the reflection on what ,i owed to myself1 drew from me the following answer4 ,the candid reader1 in the perusal of it1 will not be offended at the repetition of some passages1 one of which he may have met with twice already1 when he shall consider that1 to make my defence by itself to the public1 ,i was obliged to repeat what had been quoted in the ,letter1 since the paper would unavoidably fall into the hands of many who had never seen either the ,fable of the ,bees1 or the ,defamatory ,letter wrote against it4 ,the ,answer was published in the ,london ,journal of ,august #aj1 #agbc1 in these words3 ,whereas1 in the ,evening ,post of ,thursday ,july #aa1 a presentment was inserted of the ,grand ,jury of ,middlesex1 against the publisher of a book1 intituled1 ,the ,fable of the ,bees2 or1 ,private ,vices1 ,public ,benefits2 and since that1 a passionate and abusive ,letter has been published against the same book1 and the author of it1 in the ,london ,journal of ,saturday1 ,july #bg2 ,i think myself indispensably obliged to vindicate the above said book against the black aspersions that undeservedly have been cast upon it1 being conscious that ,i have not had the least ill design in composing it4 ,the accusations against it having been made openly in the public papers1 it is not equitable the defence of it should appear in a more private manner4 ,what ,i have to say in my behalf1 ,i shall address to all men of sense and sincerity1 asking no other favour of them1 than their patience and attention4 ,setting aside what in that ,letter relates to others1 and every thing that is foreign and immaterial1 ,i shall begin with the passage that is quoted from the book1 viz4 ,after this1 ,i flatter myself to have demonstrated1 that neither the friendly qualities and kind affections that are natural to man1 nor the real virtues he is capable of acquiring by reason and self-denial1 are the foundation of society2 but that what we call evil in this world1 moral as well as natural1 is the grand principle that makes us sociable creatures2 the solid basis1 the life and support of all trades and employments without exception3 ,that there we must look for the true origin of all arts and sciences2 and that the moment evil ceases1 the society must be spoiled1 if not totally dissolved4 ,these words1 ,i own1 are in the book1 and1 being both innocent and true1 like to remain there in all future impressions4 ,but ,i will likewise own very freely1 that1 if ,i had wrote with a design to be understood by the meanest capacities1 ,i would not have chose the subject there treated of2 or if ,i had1 ,i would have amplified and explained every period1 talked and distinguished magisterially1 and never appeared without the fescue in my hand4 ,as for example2 to make the passage pointed at intelligible1 ,i would have bestowed a page or two on the meaning of the word ,evil2 after that ,i would have taught them1 that every defect1 every want1 was an evil2 that on the multiplicity of those wants depended all those mutual services which the individual members of a society pay to each other2 and that consequently1 the greater variety there was of wants1 the larger number of individuals might find their private interest in labouring for the good of others1 and1 united together1 compose one body4 ,is there a trade or handicraft but what supplies us with something we wanted8 ,this want certainly1 before it was supplied1 was an evil1 which that trade or handicraft was to remedy1 and without which it could never have been thought of4 ,is there an art or science that was not invented to mend some defect6 ,had this latter not existed1 there could have been no occasion for the former to move it4 ,i say1 p4 #bcf4 ,the excellency of human thought and contrivance has been1 and is yet nowhere more conspicuous1 than in the variety of tools and instruments of workmen and artificers1 and the multiplicity of engines1 that were all invented1 either to assist the weakness of man1 to correct his many imperfections1 to gratify his laziness1 or obviate his impatience4 ,several foregoing pages run in the same strain4 ,but what relation has all this to religion or infidelity1 more than it has to navigation or the peace in the north8 ,the many hands that are employed to supply our natural wants1 that are really such1 as hunger1 thirst1 and nakedness1 are inconsiderable to the vast numbers that are all innocently gratifying the depravity of our corrupt nature1 ,i mean the industrious1 who get a livelihood by their honest labour1 to which the vain and voluptuous must be beholden for all their tools and implements of ease and luxury4 ,the short-sighted vulgar1 in the chain of causes1 seldom can see farther than one link2 but those who can enlarge their view1 and will give themselves leisure of gazing on the prospect of concatenated events1 may1 in a hundred places1 see good spring up1 and pullulate from evil1 as naturally as chickens do from eggs4 ,the words are to be found p4 #df4 in the ,remark made on the seeming paradox2 that in the grumbling hive1 ,the worst of all the multitude ,did something for the common good4 ,where1 in many instances1 may be amply discovered1 how unsearchable ,providence daily orders the comforts of the laborious1 and even the deliverances of the oppressed1 secretly to come forth1 not only from the vices of the luxurious1 but likewise the crimes of the flagitious and most abandoned4 ,men of candour and capacity perceive1 at first sight1 that in the passage censured1 there is no meaning hid or expressed that is not altogether contained in the following words3 ,man is a necessitous creature on innumerable accounts1 and yet from those very necessities1 and nothing else1 arise all trades and employments4 ,but it is ridiculous for men to meddle with books above their sphere4 ,the ,fable of the ,bees was designed for the entertainment of people of knowledge and education1 when they have an idle hour which they know not how to spend better3 it is a book of severe and exalted morality1 that contains a strict test of virtue1 an infallible touchstone to distinguish the real from the counterfeited1 and shows many actions to be faulty that are palmed upon the world for good ones3 it describes the nature and symptoms of human passions1 detects their force and disguises2 and traces self-love in its darkest recesses2 ,i might safely add1 beyond any other system of ethics3 the whole is a rhapsody void of order or method1 but no part of it has any thing in it that is sour or pedantic2 the style1 ,i confess1 is very unequal1 sometimes very high and rhetorical1 and sometimes very low1 and even very trivial2 such as it is1 ,i am satisfied that it has diverted persons of great probity and virtue1 and unquestionable good sense2 and ,i am in no fear that it will ever cease to do so while it is read by such4 ,whoever has seen the violent charge against this book1 will pardon me for saying more in commendation of it1 than a man1 not labouring under the same necessity1 would do of his own work on any other occasion4 ,the encomiums upon stews complained of in the presentment are no where in the book4 ,what might give a handle to this charge1 must be a political dissertation concerning the best method to guard and preserve women of honour and virtue from the insults of dissolute men1 whose passions are often ungovernable3 ,as in this there is a dilemma between two evils1 which it is impracticable to shun both1 so ,i have treated it with the utmost caution1 and begin thus3 ,i am far from encouraging vice1 and should think it an unspeakable felicity for a state1 if the sin of uncleanness could be utterly banished from it2 but ,i am afraid it is impossible4 ,i give my reasons why ,i think it so2 and1 speaking occasionally of the music-houses at ,amsterdam1 ,i give a short account of them1 than which nothing can be more harmless2 and ,i appeal to all impartial judges1 whether1 what ,i have said of them is not ten times more proper to give men 7even the voluptuous of any state7 a disgust and aversion against them1 than it is to raise any criminal desire4 ,i am sorry the ,grand ,jury should conceive that ,i published this with a design to debauch the nation1 without considering1 that1 in the first place1 there is not a sentence nor a syllable that can either offend the chastest ear1 or sully the imagination of the most vicious2 or1 in the second1 that the matter complained of is manifestly addressed to magistrates and politicians1 or1 at least1 the more serious and thinking part of mankind2 whereas a general corruption of manners as to lewdness1 to be produced by reading1 can only be apprehended from obscenities easily purchased1 and every way adapted to the tastes and capacities of the heedless multitude and unexperienced youth of both sexes3 but that the performance1 so outrageously exclaimed against1 was never calculated for either of these classes of people1 is self-evident from every circumstance4 ,the beginning of the prose is altogether philosophical1 and hardly intelligible to any that have not been used to matters of speculation2 and the running title of it is so far from being specious or inviting1 that without having read the book itself1 nobody knows what to make of it1 while1 at the same time1 the price is five shillings4 ,from all which it is plain1 that if the book contains any dangerous tenets1 ,i have not been very solicitous to scatter them among the people4 ,i have not said a word to please or engage them1 and the greatest compliment ,i have made them has been1 ,apage vulgus4 ,but as nothing 7,i say1 p4 #ach7 would more clearly demonstrate the falsity of my notions than that1 the generality of the people should fall in with them1 so ,i do not expect the approbation of the multitude4 ,i write not to many1 nor seek for any well-wishers1 but among the few that can think abstractly1 and have their minds elevated above the vulgar4 ,of this ,i have made no ill use1 and ever preserved such a tender regard to the public1 that when ,i have advanced any uncommon sentiments1 ,i have used all the precautions imaginable1 that they might not be hurtful to weak minds that might casually dip into the book4 ,when 7p4 #acg47 ,i owned1 ,that it was my sentiment that no society could be raised into a rich and mighty kingdom1 or so raised subsist in their wealth and power for any considerable time1 without the vices of man1 ,i had premised1 what was true1 ,that ,i had never said or imagined1 that man could not be virtuous as well in a rich and mighty kingdom1 as in the most pitiful commonwealth3 which caution1 a man less scrupulous than myself might have thought superfluous1 when he had already explained himself on that head in the very same paragraph which begins thus3 ,i lay down1 as a first principle1 that in all societies1 great or small1 it is the duty of every member of it to be good2 that virtue ought to be encouraged1 vice discountenanced1 the laws obeyed1 and the transgressors punished4 ,there is not a line in the book that contradicts this doctrine1 and ,i defy my enemies to disprove what ,i have advanced1 p4 #aci1 ,that if ,i have shown the way to worldly greatness1 ,i have always1 without hesitation1 preferred the road that leads to virtue4 ,no man ever took more pains not to be misconstrued than myself3 mind p4 #ach1 when ,i say1 ,that societies cannot be raised to wealth and power1 and the top of earthly glory1 without vices2 ,i do not think1 that by so saying1 ,i bid men be vicious1 any more than ,i bid them be quarrelsome or covetous1 when ,i affirm1 that the profession of the law could not be maintained in such numbers and splendour1 if there was not abundance of too selfish and litigious people4 ,a caution of the same nature ,i had already given towards the end of the ,preface1 on account of a palpable evil inseparable from the felicity of ,london4 ,to search into the real causes of things1 imports no ill design1 nor has any tendency to do harm4 ,a man may write on poisons1 and be an excellent physician4 ,page #bce1 ,i say1 ,no man needs to guard himself against blessings1 but calamities require hands to avert them4 ,and lower1 ,it is the extremities of heat and cold1 the inconstancy and badness of seasons1 the violence and uncertainty of winds1 the vast power and treachery of water1 the rage and untractableness of fire1 and the stubbornness and sterility of the earth1 that rack our invention1 how we shall either avoid the mischiefs they produce1 or correct the malignity of them1 and turn their several forces to our own advantage a thousand different ways4 ,while a man is inquiring into the occupation of vast multitudes1 ,i cannot see why he may not say all this and much more1 without being accused of depreciating and speaking slightly of the gifts and munificence of heaven2 when1 at the same time1 he demonstrates1 that without rain and sunshine this globe would not be habitable to creatures like ourselves4 ,it is an out-of-the-way subject1 and ,i would never quarrel with the man who should tell me that it might as well have been let alone3 yet ,i always thought it would please men of any tolerable taste1 and not be easily lost4 ,my vanity ,i could never conquer1 so well as ,i could wish2 and ,i am too proud to commit crimes1 and as to the main scope1 the intent of the book1 ,i mean the view it was wrote with1 ,i protest that it has been with the utmost sincerity1 what ,i have declared of it in the ,preface1 where you will find these words3 ,if you ask me1 why ,i have done all this1 cui bono8 ,and what good these notions will produce8 ,truly1 besides the reader's diversion1 ,i believe none at all2 but if ,i was asked1 what naturally ought to be expected from them8 ,i would answer1 ,that1 in the first place1 the people who continually find fault with others1 by reading them would be taught to look at home1 and examining their own consciences1 be made ashamed of always railing at what they are more or less guilty of themselves2 and that1 in the next1 those who are so fond of the ease and comforts of a great and flourishing nation1 would learn more patiently to submit to those inconveniences1 which no government upon earth can remedy1 when they should see the impossibility of enjoying any great share of the first1 without partaking likewise of the latter4 ,the first impression of the ,fable of the ,bees1 which came out in #agad1 was never carped at1 or publicly taken notice of2 and all the reason ,i can think on1 why this second edition should be so unmercifully treated1 though it has many precautions which the former wanted1 is an ,essay on ,charity and ,charity ,schools1 which is added to what was printed before4 ,i confess1 that it is my sentiment1 that all hard and dirty work1 ought1 in a well-governed nation1 to be the lot and portion of the poor1 and that to divert their children from useful labour till they are fourteen or fifteen years old1 is a wrong method to qualify them for it when are they grown up4 ,i have given several reasons for my opinion in that ,essay1 to which ,i refer all impartial men of understanding1 assuring them that they will not meet with such monstrous impiety in it as reported4 ,what an advocate ,i have been for libertinism and immorality1 and what an enemy to all instructions of youth in the ,christian faith1 may be collected from the pains ,i have taken on education for above seven pages together3 and afterwards again1 page #aic1 where speaking of the instructions the children of the poor might receive at church2 from which1 ,i say1 ,or some other place of worship1 ,i would not have the meanest of a parish that is able to walk to it1 be absent on ,sundays1 ,i have these words3 ,it is the ,sabbath1 the most useful day in seven1 that is set apart for divine service and religious exercise1 as well as resting from bodily labour2 and it is a duty incumbent on all magistrates1 to take a particular care of that day4 ,the poor more especially1 and their children1 should be made to go to church on it1 both in the fore and the afternoon1 because they have no time on any other4 ,by precept and example1 they ought to be encouraged to it from their very infancy3 the wilful neglect of it ought to be counted scandalous2 and if downright compulsion to what ,i urge might seem too harsh1 and perhaps impracticable1 all diversions at least ought strictly to be prohibited1 and the poor hindered from every amusement abroad1 that might allure or draw them from it4 ,if the arguments ,i have made use of are not convincing1 ,i desire they may be refuted1 and ,i will acknowledge it as a favour in any one that shall convince me of my error1 without ill language1 by showing me wherein ,i have been mistaken3 but calumny1 it seems1 is the shortest way of confuting an adversary1 when men are touched in a sensible part4 ,vast sums are gathered for these charity schools1 and ,i understand human nature too well to imagine1 that the sharers of the money should hear them spoke against with any patience4 ,i foresaw1 therefore1 the usage ,i was to receive1 and having repeated the common cant that is made for charity schools1 ,i told my readers1 page #afe4 ,this is the general cry1 and he that speaks the least word against it1 is an uncharitable1 hard-hearted1 and inhuman1 if not a wicked1 profane and atheistical wretch4 ,for this reason1 it cannot be thought1 that it was a great surprise to me1 when in that extraordinary letter to ,lord ,c4 ,i saw myself called profligate author2 the publication of my tenets1 an open and avowed proposal to extirpate the ,christian faith and all virtue1 and what ,i had done so stunning1 so shocking1 so frightful1 so flagrant an enormity1 that it cried for the vengeance of ,heaven4 ,this is no more than what ,i have already expected from the enemies to truth and fair dealing1 and ,i shall retort nothing on the angry author of that letter1 who endeavours to expose me to the public fury4 ,i pity him1 and have charity enough to believe that he has been imposed upon himself1 by trusting to fame and the hearsay of others2 for no man in his wits can imagine that he should have read one quarter part of my book1 and write as he does4 ,i am sorry if the words ,private ,vices1 ,public ,benefits1 have ever given any offence to a well-meaning man4 ,the mystery of them is soon unfolded1 when once they are rightly understood2 but no man of sincerity will question the innocence of them1 that has read the last paragraph1 where ,i take my leave of the reader1 and conclude with repeating the seeming paradox1 the substance of which is advanced in the title page2 that private vices1 by the dexterous management of a skilful politician1 may be turned into public benefits4 ,these are the last words of the book1 printed in the same large character with the rest4 ,but ,i set aside all what ,i have said in my vindication2 and if1 in the whole book called the ,fable of the ,bees1 and presented by the grand jury of ,middlesex to the judges of the ,king's ,bench1 there is to be found the least title of blasphemy or profaneness1 or any thing tending to immorality or the corruption of manners1 ,i desire it may be published2 and if this be done without invective1 personal reflections1 or setting the mob upon me1 things ,i never design to answer1 ,i will not only recant1 but likewise beg pardon of the offended public in the most solemn manner3 and 7if the hangman might be thought too good for the office7 burn the book myself1 at any reasonable time and place my adversaries shall be pleased to appoint4 ,the ,author of the ,fable of the ,bees4 ,,the ,,fable ,,of ,,the ,,bees4 ,,part ,,ii4 ,opinionum enim ,commenta delet dies2 ,natur judicia confirmat4 ,cicero de ,nat4 ,deor4 ,lib4 #b4 ,,preface4 ,considering the manifold clamours1 that have been raised from several quarters1 against the ,fable of the ,bees1 even after ,i had published the vindication of it1 many of my readers will wonder to see me come out with a second part1 before ,i have taken any further notice of what has been said against the first4 ,whatever is published1 ,i take it for granted1 is submitted to the judgment of all the world that see it2 but it is very unreasonable1 that authors should not be upon the same footing with their critics4 ,the treatment ,i have received1 and the liberties some gentlemen have taken with me1 being well known1 the public must be convinced before now1 that1 in point of civility1 ,i owe my adversaries nothing3 and if those1 who have taken upon them to school and reprimand me1 had an undoubted right to censure what they thought fit1 without asking my leave1 and to say of me what they pleased1 ,i ought to have an equal privilege to examine their censures1 and1 without consulting them1 to judge in my turn1 whether they are worth answering or not4 ,the public must be the umpire between us4 ,from the ,appendix that has been added to the first part1 ever since the third edition1 it is manifest1 that ,i have been far from endeavouring to stifle1 either the arguments or the invectives that were made against me2 and1 not to have left the reader uninformed of any thing extant of either sort1 ,i once thought to have taken this opportunity of presenting him with a list of the adversaries that have appeared in print against me3 but as they are in nothing so considerable as they are in their numbers1 ,i was afraid it would have looked like ostentation1 unless ,i would have answered them all1 which ,i shall never attempt4 ,the reason1 therefore1 of my obstinate silence has been all along1 that hitherto ,i have not been accused of any thing that is criminal or immoral1 for which every middling capacity could not have framed a very good answer1 from some part or other1 either of the vindication or the book itself4 ,however1 ,i have wrote1 and had by me near two years1 a defence of the ,fable of the ,bees1 in which ,i have stated and endeavoured to solve all the objections that might reasonably be made against it1 as to the doctrine contained in it1 and the detriment it might be of to others3 for this is the only thing about which ,i ever had any concern4 ,being conscious1 that ,i have wrote with no ill design1 ,i should be sorry to lie under the imputation of it3 but as to the goodness or badness of the performance itself1 the thought was never worth my care2 and therefore those critics1 that found fault with my bad reasoning1 and said of the book1 that it is ill wrote1 that there is nothing new in it1 that it is incoherent stuff1 that the language is barbarous1 the humour low1 and the style mean and pitiful2 those critics1 ,i say1 are all very welcome to say what they please3 ,in the main1 ,i believe they are in the right2 but if they are not1 ,i shall never give myself the trouble to contradict them2 for ,i never think an author more foolishly employed1 than when he is vindicating his own abilities4 ,as ,i wrote it for my diversion1 so ,i had my ends2 if those who read it have not had theirs1 ,i am sorry for it1 though ,i think myself not at all answerable for the disappointment4 ,it was not wrote by subscription1 nor have ,i ever warranted1 any where1 what use or goodness it would be of3 on the contrary1 in the very preface1 ,i have called it an inconsiderable trifle2 and since that1 ,i have publicly owned that it was a rhapsody4 ,if people will buy books without looking into them1 or knowing what they are1 ,i cannot see whom they have to blame but themselves1 when they do not answer expectations4 ,besides1 it is no new thing for people to dislike books after they have bought them3 this will happen sometimes1 even when men of considerable figure had given them the strongest assurances1 before hand1 that they would be pleased with them4 ,a considerable part of the defence ,i mentioned1 has been seen by several of my friends1 who have been in expectation of it for some time4 ,i have stayed neither for types nor paper1 and yet ,i have several reasons1 why ,i do not yet publish it2 which1 having touched nobody's money1 nor made any promise concerning it1 ,i beg leave to keep to myself4 ,most of my adversaries1 whenever it comes out1 will think it soon enough2 and nobody suffers by the delay but myself4 ,since ,i was first attacked1 it has long been a matter of wonder and perplexity to me to find out1 why and how men should conceive1 that ,i had wrote with an intent to debauch the nation1 and promote all manner of vice3 and it was a great while before ,i could derive the charge from any thing1 but wilful mistake and premeditated malice4 ,but since ,i have seen1 that men could be serious in apprehending the increase of rogues and robberies1 from the frequent representations of the ,beggar's ,opera1 ,i am persuaded1 that there really are such wrongheads in the world1 as will fancy vices to be encouraged1 when they see them exposed4 ,to the same perverseness of judgment it must have been owing1 that some of my adversaries were highly incensed with me1 for having owned1 in the ,vindication1 that hitherto ,i had not been able to conquer my vanity1 as well as ,i could have wished4 ,from their censure it is manifest1 that they must have imagined1 that to complain of a frailty1 was the same as to brag of it4 ,but if these angry gentlemen had been less blinded with passion1 or seen with better eyes1 they would easily have perceived1 unless they were too well pleased with their pride1 that to have made the same confession themselves1 they wanted nothing but sincerity4 ,whoever boasts of his vanity1 and at the same time shows his arrogance1 is unpardonable4 ,but when we hear a man complain of an infirmity1 and his want of power entirely to cure it1 whilst he suffers no symptoms of it to appear1 that we could justly upbraid him with1 we are so far from being offended1 that we are pleased with the ingenuity1 and applaud his candour2 and when such an author takes no greater liberties with his readers1 than what is usual in the same manner of writing1 and owns that to be the result of vanity1 which others tell a thousand lies about1 his confession is a compliment1 and the frankness of it ought not to be looked upon otherwise1 than as a civility to the public1 a condescension he was not obliged to make4 ,it is not in feeling the passions1 or in being affected with the frailties of nature1 that vice consists2 but in indulging and obeying the call of them1 contrary to the dictates of reason4 ,whoever pays great deference to his readers1 respectfully submitting himself to their judgment1 and tells them at the same time1 that he is entirely destitute of pride2 whoever1 ,i say1 does this1 spoils his compliment whilst he is making of it3 for it is no better than bragging1 that it costs him nothing4 ,persons of taste1 and the least delicacy1 can be but little affected with a man's modesty1 of whom they are sure1 that he is wholly void of pride within3 the absence of the one makes the virtue of the other cease2 at least the merit of it is not greater than that of chastity in an eunuch1 or humility in a beggar4 ,what glory would it be to the memory of ,cato1 that he refused to touch the water that was brought him1 if it was not supposed that he was very thirsty when he did it8 ,the reader will find1 that in this second part ,i have endeavoured to illustrate and explain several things1 that were obscure and only hinted at in the first4 ,whilst ,i was forming this design1 ,i found1 on the one hand1 that1 as to myself1 the easiest way of executing it1 would be by dialogue2 but ,i knew1 on the other1 that to discuss opinions1 and manage controversies1 it is counted the most unfair manner of writing4 ,when partial men have a mind to demolish an adversary1 and triumph over him with little expence1 it has long been a frequent practice to attack him with dialogues1 in which the champion1 who is to lose the battle1 appears at the very beginning of the engagement1 to be the victim that is to be sacrificed1 and seldom makes a better figure than cocks on ,shrove-,tuesday1 that receive blows1 but return none1 and are visibly set up on purpose to be knocked down4 ,that this is to be said against dialogues1 is certainly true2 but it is as true1 that there is no other manner of writing1 by which greater reputation has been obtained4 ,those1 who have most excelled all others in it1 were the two most famous authors of all antiquity1 ,plato and ,cicero3 the one wrote almost all his philosophical works in dialogues1 and the other has left us nothing else4 ,it is evident1 then1 that the fault of those1 who have not succeeded in dialogues2 was in the management1 and not in the manner of writing2 and that nothing but the ill use that has been made of it1 could ever have brought it into disrepute4 ,the reason why ,plato preferred dialogues to any other manner of writing1 he said1 was1 that things thereby might look1 as if they were acted1 rather than told3 the same was afterwards given by ,cicero in the same words1 rendered into his own language4 ,the greatest objection that in reality lies against it1 is the difficulty there is in writing them well4 ,the chief of ,plato's interlocutors was always his master ,socrates1 who every where maintains his character with great dignity2 but it would have been impossible to have made such an extraordinary person speak like himself on so many emergencies1 if ,plato had not been as great a man as ,socrates4 ,cicero1 who studied nothing more than to imitate ,plato1 introduced in his dialogues some of the greatest men in ,rome1 his contemporaries1 that were known to be of different opinions1 and made them maintain and defend every one his own sentiments1 as strenuously1 and in as lively a manner1 as they could possibly have done themselves2 and in reading his dialogues a man may easily imagine himself to be in company with several learned men of different tastes and studies4 ,but to do this1 a man must have ,cicero's capacity4 ,lucian likewise1 and several others among the ancients1 chose for their speakers1 persons of known characters4 ,that this interests and engages the reader more than strange names1 is undeniable2 but then1 when the personages fall short of those characters1 it plainly shows1 that the author undertook what he was not able to execute4 ,to avoid this inconveniency1 most dialogue-writers among the moderns1 have made use of fictitious names1 which they either invented themselves or borrowed of others4 ,these are1 generally speaking1 judicious compounds1 taken from the ,greek1 that serve for short characters of the imaginary persons they are given to1 denoting either the party they side with1 or what it is they love or hate4 ,but of all these happy compounds1 there is not one that has appeared equally charming to so many authors of different views and talents1 as ,philalethes2 a plain demonstration of the great regard mankind generally have to truth4 ,there has not been a paper-war of note1 these two hundred years1 in which both parties1 at one time or other1 have not made use of this victorious champion2 who1 which side soever he has fought on1 has hitherto1 like ,dryden's ,almanzor1 been conqueror1 and constantly carried all before him4 ,but1 as by this means the event of the battle must always be known1 as soon as the combatants are named1 and before a blow is struck2 and as all men are not equally peaceable in their dispositions1 many readers have complained1 that they had not sport enough for their money1 and that knowing so much before hand1 spoiled all their diversion4 ,this humour having prevailed for some time1 authors are grown less solicitous about the names of the personages they introduce4 ,this careless way1 seeming to me at least as reasonable as any other1 ,i have followed2 and had no other meaning by the names ,i have given my interlocutors1 than to distinguish them1 without the least regard to the derivation of words1 or any thing relating to the etymology of them3 all the care ,i have taken about them1 that ,i know of1 is1 that the pronunciation of them should not be harsh1 nor the sounds offensive4 ,but though the names ,i have chosen are feigned1 and the circumstances of the persons fictitious1 the characters themselves are real1 and as faithfully copied from nature as ,i have been able to take them4 ,i have known critics find fault with play-wrights for annexing short characters to the names they gave the persons of the drama2 alleging1 that it is forestalling their pleasure1 and that whatever the actors are represented to be1 they want no monitor1 and are wise enough to find it out themselves4 ,but ,i could never approve of this censure3 there is a satisfaction1 ,i think1 in knowing one's company2 and when ,i am to converse with people for a considerable time1 ,i desire to be well acquainted with them1 and the sooner the better4 ,it is for this reason1 ,i thought it proper to give the reader some account of the persons that are to entertain him4 ,as they are supposed to be people of quality1 ,i beg leave1 before ,i come to particulars1 to premise some things concerning the beau monde in general2 which1 though most people perhaps know them every body does not always attend to4 ,among the fashionable part of mankind throughout ,christendom1 there are1 in all countries1 persons1 who1 though they feel a just abhorrence to atheism and professed infidelity1 yet have very little religion1 and are scarce half-believers1 when their lives come to be looked into1 and their sentiments examined4 ,what is chiefly aimed at in a refined education1 is to procure as much ease and pleasure upon earth1 as that can afford3 therefore men are first instructed in all the various arts of rendering their behaviour agreeable to others1 with the least disturbance to themselves4 ,secondly1 they are imbued with the knowledge of all the elegant comforts of life1 as well as the lessons of human prudence1 to avoid pain and trouble1 in order to enjoy as much of the world1 and with as little opposition1 as it is possible4 ,whilst thus men study their own private interest1 in assisting each other to promote and increase the pleasures of life in general1 they find by experience1 that to compass those ends1 every thing ought to be banished from conversation1 that can have the least tendency of making others uneasy2 and to reproach men with their faults or imperfections1 neglects or omissions1 or to put them in mind of their duty1 are offices that none are allowed to take upon them1 but parents or professed masters and tutors2 nor even they before company3 but to reprove and pretend to teach others1 we have no authority over1 is ill manners1 even in a clergyman out of the pulpit2 nor is he there to talk magisterially1 or ever to mention things1 that are melancholy or dismal1 if he should pass for a polite preacher3 but whatever we may vouchsafe to hear at church1 neither the certainty of a future state1 nor the necessity of repentance1 nor any thing else relating to the essentials of ,christianity1 are ever to be talked of when we are out of it1 among the beau monde1 upon any account whatever4 ,the subject is not diverting3 besides1 every body is supposed to know those things1 and to take care accordingly2 nay1 it is unmannerly to think otherwise4 ,the decency in fashion being the chief1 if not the only1 rule1 all modish people walk by1 not a few of them go to church1 and receive the sacrament1 from the same principle that obliges them to pay visits to one another1 and now and then to make an entertainment4 ,but as the greatest care of the beau monde is to be agreeable1 and appear well-bred1 so most of them take particular care1 and many against their consciences1 not to seem burdened with more religion than it is fashionable to have1 for fear of being thought to be either hypocrites or bigots4 ,virtue1 however1 is a very fashionable word1 and some of the most luxurious are extremely fond of the amiable sound2 though they mean nothing by it1 but a great veneration for whatever is courtly or sublime1 and an equal aversion to every thing that is vulgar or unbecoming4 ,they seem to imagine1 that it chiefly consists in a strict compliance to the rules of politeness1 and all the laws of honour1 that have any regard to the respect that is due to themselves4 ,it is the existence of this virtue1 that is often maintained with so much pomp of words1 and for the eternity of which so many champions are ready to take up arms3 whilst the votaries of it deny themselves no pleasure1 they can enjoy1 either fashionably or in secret1 and1 instead of sacrificing the heart to the love of real virtue1 can only condescend to abandon the outward deformity of vice1 for the satisfaction they receive from appearing to be well-bred4 ,it is counted ridiculous for men to commit violence upon themselves1 or to maintain1 that virtue requires self-denial3 all court philosophers are agreed1 that nothing can be lovely or desirable1 that is mortifying or uneasy4 ,a civil behaviour among the fair in public1 and a deportment inoffensive both in words and actions1 is all the chastity the polite world requires in men4 ,what liberties soever a man gives himself in private1 his reputation shall never suffer1 whilst he conceals his amours from all those that are not unmannerly inquisitive1 and takes care that nothing criminal can ever be proved upon him4 ,si non caste1 saltem caute1 is a precept that sufficiently shows what every body expects2 and though incontinence is owned to be a sin1 yet never to have been guilty of it is a character which most single men under thirty would not be fond of1 even amongst modest women4 ,as the world everywhere1 in compliment itself1 desires to be counted really virtuous1 so bare-faced vices1 and all trespasses committed in sight of it1 are heinous and unpardonable4 ,to see a man drunk in the open street1 or any serious assembly at noon-day1 is shocking2 because it is a violation of the laws of decency1 and plainly shows a want of respect1 and neglect of duty1 which every body is supposed to owe to the public4 ,men of mean circumstances likewise may be blamed for spending more time or money in drinking1 than they can afford2 but when these and all worldly considerations are out of the question1 drunkenness itself1 as it is a sin1 an offence to ,heaven1 is seldom censured2 and no man of fortune scruples to own1 that he was at such a time in such a company1 where they drank very hard4 ,where nothing is committed1 that is either beastly1 or otherwise extravagant1 societies1 that meet on purpose to drink and be merry1 reckon their manner of passing away the time as innocent as any other1 though most days in the year they spend five or six hours of the four and twenty in that diversion4 ,no man had ever the reputation of being a good companion1 that would never drink to excess2 and if a man's constitution be so strong1 or himself so cautious1 that the dose he takes overnight1 never disorders him the next day1 the worst that shall be said of him1 is1 that he loves his bottle with moderation3 though every night constantly he makes drinking his pastime1 and hardly ever goes to bed entirely sober4 ,avarice1 it is true1 is generally detested2 but as men may be as guilty of it by scraping money together1 as they can be by hoarding it up1 so all the base1 the sordid1 and unreasonable means of acquiring wealth1 ought to be equally condemned and exploded1 with the vile1 the pitiful1 and penurious way of saving it3 but the world is more indulgent2 no man is taxed with avarice1 that will conform with the beau monde1 and live every way in splendour1 though he should always be raising the rents of his estate1 and hardly suffer his tenants to live under him2 though he should enrich himself by usury1 and all the barbarous advantages that extortion can make of the necessities of others3 and though1 moreover1 he should be a bad paymaster himself1 and an unmerciful creditor to the unfortunate2 it is all one1 no man is counted covetous1 who entertains well1 and will allow his family what is fashionable for a person in his condition4 ,how often do we see men of very large estates unreasonably solicitous after greater riches6 ,what greediness do some men discover in extending the perquisites of their offices6 ,what dishonourable condescensions are made for places of profit6 ,what slavish attendance is given1 and what low submissions and unmanly cringes are made to favourites for pensions1 by men that could subsist without them6 ,yet these things are no reproach to men1 and they are never upbraided with them but by their enemies1 or those that envy them1 and perhaps the discontented and the poor4 ,on the contrary1 most of the well-bred people1 that live in affluence themselves1 will commend them for their diligence and activity2 and say of them1 that they take care of the main chance2 that they are industrious men for their families1 and that they know how1 and are fit1 to live in the world4 ,but these kind constructions are not more hurtful to the practice of ,christianity1 than the high opinion which1 in an artful education1 men are taught to have of their species1 is to the belief of its doctrine1 if a right use be not made of it4 ,that the great pre-eminence we have over all other creatures we are acquainted with1 consists in our rational faculty1 is very true2 but it is as true1 that the more we are taught to admire ourselves1 the more our pride increases1 and the greater stress we lay on the sufficiency of our reason3 ,for as experience teaches us1 that the greater and the more transcendent the esteem is1 which men have for their own worth1 the less capable they generally are to bear injuries without resentment2 so we see1 in like manner1 that the more exalted the notions are which men entertain of their better part1 their reasoning faculty1 the more remote and averse they will be from giving their assent to any thing that seems to insult over or contradict it3 ,and asking a man to admit of any thing he cannot comprehend1 the proud reasoner calls an affront to human understanding4 ,but as ease and pleasure are the grand aim of the beau monde1 and civility is inseparable from their behaviour1 whether they are believers or not1 so well-bred people never quarrel with the religion they are brought up in3 ,they will readily comply with every ceremony in divine worship they have been used to1 and never dispute with you either about the ,old or the ,new ,testament1 if1 in your turn1 you will forbear laying great stress upon faith and mysteries1 and allow them to give an allegorical1 or any other figurative sense to the ,history of the ,creation1 and whatever else they cannot comprehend or account for by the light of nature4 ,i am far from believing1 that1 among the fashionable people1 there are not1 in all ,christian countries1 many persons of stricter virtue1 and greater sincerity in religion1 than ,i have here described2 but that a considerable part of mankind have a great resemblance to the picture ,i have been drawing1 ,i appeal to every knowing and candid reader4 ,horatio1 ,cleomenes1 and ,fulvia1 are the names ,i have given to my interlocutors3 ,the first represents one of the modish people ,i have been speaking of1 but rather of the better sort of them as to morality1 though he seems to have a greater distrust of the sincerity of clergymen1 than he has of that of any other profession1 and to be of the opinion1 which is expressed in that trite and specious1 as well as false and injurious saying1 priests of all religions are the same4 ,as to his studies1 he is supposed to be tolerably well versed in the classics1 and to have read more than is usual for people of quality1 that are born to great estates4 ,he is a man of strict honour1 and of justice as well as humanity2 rather profuse than covetous1 and altogether disinterested in his principles4 ,he has been abroad1 seen the world1 and is supposed to be possessed of the greatest part of the accomplishments that usually gain a man the reputation of being very much of a gentleman4 ,cleomenes had been just such another1 but was much reformed4 ,as he had formerly1 for his amusement only1 been dipping into anatomy1 and several parts of natural philosophy2 so1 since he was come home from his travels1 he had studied human nature1 and the knowledge of himself1 with great application4 ,it is supposed1 that1 whilst he was thus employing most of his leisure hours1 he met with the ,fable of the ,bees2 and1 making a great use of what he read1 compared what he felt himself within1 as well as what he had seen in the world1 with the sentiments set forth in that book1 and found the insincerity of men fully as universal1 as it was there represented4 ,he had no opinion of the pleas and excuses that are commonly made to cover the real desires of the heart2 and he ever suspected the sincerity of men1 whom he saw to be fond of the world1 and with eagerness grasping at wealth and power1 when they pretended that the great end of their labours was to have opportunities of doing good to others upon earth1 and becoming themselves more thankful to ,heaven2 especially1 if they conformed with the beau monde1 and seemed to take delight in a fashionable way of living3 ,he had the same suspicion of all men of sense1 who1 having read and considered the gospel1 would maintain the possibility that persons might pursue worldly glory with all their strength1 and1 at the same time1 be good ,christians4 ,cleomenes himself believed the ,bible to be the word of ,god1 without reserve1 and was entirely convinced of the mysterious1 as well as historical truths that are contained in it4 ,but as he was fully persuaded1 not only of the veracity of the ,christian religion1 but likewise of the severity of its precepts1 so he attacked his passions with vigour1 but never scrupled to own his want of power to subdue them1 or the violent opposition he felt from within2 often complaining1 that the obstacles he met with from flesh and blood1 were insurmountable4 ,as he understood perfectly well the difficulty of the task required in the gospel1 so he ever opposed those easy casuists1 that endeavoured to lessen and extenuate it for their own ends2 and he loudly maintained1 that men's gratitude to ,heaven was an unacceptable offering1 whilst they continued to live in ease and luxury1 and were visibly solicitous after their share of the pomp and vanity of this world4 ,in the very politeness of conversation1 the complacency with which fashionable people are continually soothing each other's frailties1 and in almost every part of a gentleman's behaviour1 he thought there was a disagreement between the outward appearances1 and what is felt within1 that was clashing with uprightness and sincerity4 ,cleomenes was of opinion1 that of all religious virtues1 nothing was more scarce1 or more difficult to acquire1 than ,christian humility2 and that to destroy the possibility of ever attaining to it1 nothing was so effectual as what is called a gentleman's education2 and that the more dexterous1 by this means1 men grew in concealing the outward signs1 and every symptom of pride1 the more entirely they became enslaved by it within4 ,he carefully examined into the felicity that accrues from the applause of others1 and the invisible wages which men of sense and judicious fancy received for their labours2 and what it was at the bottom that rendered those airy rewards so ravishing to mortals4 ,he had often observed1 and watched narrowly the countenances and behaviour of men1 when any thing of theirs was admired or commended1 such as the choice of their furniture1 the politeness of their entertainments1 the elegancy of their equipages1 their dress1 their diversions1 or the fine taste displayed in their buildings4 ,cleomenes seemed charitable1 and was a man of strict morals1 yet he would often complain that he was not possessed of one ,christian virtue1 and found fault with his own actions1 that had all the appearances of goodness2 because he was conscious1 he said1 that they were performed from a wrong principle4 ,the effects of his education1 and his aversion to infamy1 had always been strong enough to keep him from turpitude2 but this he ascribed to his vanity1 which he complained was in such full possession of his heart1 that he knew no gratification of any appetite from which he was able to exclude it4 ,having always been a man of unblameable behaviour1 the sincerity of his belief had made no visible alteration in his conduct to outward appearances2 but in private he never ceased from examining himself4 ,as no man was less prone to enthusiasm than himself1 so his life was very uniform2 and as he never pretended to high flights of devotion1 so he never was guilty of enormous offences4 ,he had a strong aversion to rigorists of all sorts2 and when he saw men quarrelling about forms and creeds1 and the interpretation of obscure places1 and requiring of others the strictest compliance to their own opinions in disputable matters1 it raised his indignation to see the generality of them want charity1 and many of them scandalously remiss in the plainest and most necessary duties4 ,he took uncommon pains to search into human nature1 and left no stone unturned1 to detect the pride and hypocrisy of it1 and1 among his intimate friends1 to expose the stratagems of the one1 and the exorbitant power of the other4 ,he was sure1 that the satisfaction which arose from worldly enjoyments1 was something distinct from gratitude1 and foreign to religion2 and he felt plainly1 that as it proceeded from within1 so it centered in himself3 ,the very relish of life1 he said1 was accompanied with an elevation of mind1 that seemed to be inseparable from his being4 ,whatever principle was the cause of this1 he was convinced within himself1 that the sacrifice of the heart1 which the gospel requires1 consisted in the utter extirpation of that principle2 confessing1 at the same time1 that this satisfaction he found in himself1 this elevation of mind1 caused his chief pleasure2 and that1 in all the comforts of life1 it made the greatest part of the enjoyment4 ,cleomenes1 with grief1 often owned his fears1 that his attachment to the world would never cease whilst he lived2 the reasons he gave1 were the great regard he continued to have for the opinion of worldly men2 the stubbornness of his indocile heart1 that could not be brought to change the objects of its pride2 and refused to be ashamed of what1 from his infancy1 it had been taught to glory in2 and1 lastly1 the impossibility1 he found in himself1 of being ever reconciled to contempt1 and enduring1 with patience1 to be laughed at and despised for any cause1 or on any consideration whatever4 ,these were the obstacles1 he said1 that hindered him from breaking off all commerce with the beau monde1 and entirely changing his manner of living2 without which1 he thought it mockery to talk of renouncing the world1 and bidding adieu to all the pomp and vanity of it4 ,the part of ,fulvia1 which is the third person1 is so inconsiderable1 she just appearing only in the first dialogue1 that it would be impertinent to trouble the reader with a character of her4 ,i had a mind to say some things on painting and operas1 which ,i thought might1 by introducing her1 be brought in more naturally1 and with less trouble1 than they could have been without her4 ,the ladies1 ,i hope1 will find no reason1 from the little she does say1 to suspect that she wants either virtue or understanding4 ,as to the fable1 or what is supposed to have occasioned the first dialogue between ,horatio and ,cleomenes1 it is this4 ,horatio1 who had found great delight in my ,lord ,shaftsbury's polite manner of writing1 his fine raillery1 and blending virtue with good manners1 was a great stickler for the social system2 and wondered how ,cleomenes could be an advocate for such a book as the ,fable of the ,bees1 of which he had heard a very vile character from several quarters4 ,cleomenes1 who loved and had a great friendship for ,horatio1 wanted to undeceive him2 but the other1 who hated satire1 was prepossessed1 and having been told likewise1 that martial courage1 and honour itself1 were ridiculed in that book1 he was very much exasperated against the author and his whole scheme3 he had two or three times heard ,cleomenes discourse on this subject with others2 but would never enter into the argument himself2 and finding his friend often pressing to come to it1 he began to look cooly upon him1 and at last to avoid all opportunities of being alone with him3 till ,cleomenes drew him in1 by the stratagem which the reader will see he made use of1 as ,horatio was one day taking his leave after a short complimentary visit4 ,i should not wonder to see men of candour1 as well as good sense1 find fault with the manner1 in which ,i have chose to publish these thoughts of mine to the world3 ,there certainly is something in it1 which ,i confess ,i do not know how to justify to my own satisfaction4 ,that such a man as ,cleomenes1 having met with a book agreeable to his own sentiments1 should desire to be acquainted with the author of it1 has nothing in it that is improbable or unseemly2 but then it will be objected1 that1 whoever the interlocutors are1 it was ,i myself who wrote the dialogues2 and that it is contrary to all decency1 that a man should proclaim concerning his own work1 all that a friend of his1 perhaps1 might be allowed to say3 this is true2 and the best answer which ,i think can be made to it1 is1 that such an impartial man1 and such a lover of truth1 as ,cleomenes is represented to be1 would be as cautious in speaking of his friend's merit1 as he would be of his own4 ,it might be urged likewise1 that when a man professes himself to be an author's friend1 and exactly to entertain the same sentiments with another1 it must naturally put every reader upon his guard1 and render him as suspicious and distrustful of such a man1 as he would be of the author himself4 ,but how good soever the excuses are1 that might be made for this manner of writing1 ,i would never have ventured upon it1 if ,i had not liked it in the famous ,gassendus1 who1 by the help of several dialogues and a friend1 who is the chief personage in them1 has not only explained and illustrated his system1 but likewise refuted his adversaries3 him ,i have followed1 and ,i hope the reader will find1 that whatever opportunity ,i have had by this means1 of speaking well of myself indirectly1 ,i had no design to make that1 or any other ill use of it4 ,as it is supposed1 that ,cleomenes is my friend1 and speaks my sentiments1 so it is but justice1 that every thing which he advances should be looked upon and considered as my own2 but no man in his senses would think1 that ,i ought to be equally responsible for every thing that ,horatio says1 who is his antagonist4 ,if ever he offers any thing that favours of libertinism1 or is otherwise exceptionable1 which ,cleomenes does not reprove him for in the best and most serious manner1 or to which he gives not the most satisfactory and convincing answer that can be made1 ,i am to blame1 otherwise not4 ,yet from the fate the first part has met with1 ,i expect to see in a little time several things transcribed and cited from this1 in that manner1 by themselves1 without the replies that are made to them1 and so shown to the world1 as my words and my opinion4 ,the opportunity of doing this will be greater in this part than it was in the former1 and should ,i always have fair play1 and never be attacked1 but by such adversaries1 as would make their quotations from me without artifice1 and use me with common honesty1 it would go a great way to the refuting of me2 and ,i should myself begin to suspect the truth of several things ,i have advanced1 and which hitherto ,i cannot help believing4 ,a stroke made in this manner1----which the reader will sometimes meet with in the following dialogues1 is a sign1 either of interruption1 when the person speaking is not suffered to go on with what he was going to say1 or else of a pause1 during which something is supposed to be said or done1 not relating to the discourse4 ,as in this part ,i have not altered the subject1 on which a former1 known by the name of the ,fable of the ,bees1 was wrote2 and the same unbiassed method of searching after truth1 and inquiring into the nature of man and society1 made use of in that1 is continued in this1 ,i thought it unnecessary to look out for another title2 and being myself a great lover of simplicity1 and my invention none of the most fruitful1 the reader1 ,i hope1 will pardon the bald1 inelegant aspect1 and unusual emptiness of the title page4 ,here ,i would have made an end of my ,preface1 which ,i know very well is too long already3 but the world having been very grossly imposed upon by a false report1 that some months ago was very solemnly made1 and as industriously spread in most of the newspapers1 for a considerable time1 ,i think it would be an unpardonable neglect in me1 of the public1 should ,i suffer them2 to remain in the error they were led into1 when ,i am actually addressing them2 and there is no other person1 from whom they can so justly expect to be undeceived4 ,in the ,london ,evening ,post of ,saturday ,march #i1 #agbg-h1 the following paragraph was printed in small ,italic1 at the end of the home news4 ,on ,friday evening the first instant1 a gentleman1 well-dressed1 appeared at the bonfire before ,st4 ,james's ,gate1 who declared himself the author of a book1 intituled1 the ,fable of the ,bees2 and that he was sorry for writing the same3 and recollecting his former promise1 pronounced these words3 ,i commit my book to the flames2 and threw it in accordingly4 ,the ,monday following1 the same piece of news was repeated in the ,daily ,journal1 and after that for a considerable time1 as ,i have said1 in most of the papers3 but since the ,saturday mentioned1 which was the only time it was printed by itself1 it appeared always with a small addition to it1 and annexed 7with a ,n4 ,b4 before it7 to the following advertisement4 ,,aret-,,logia3 ,or an ,inquiry into the ,original of ,moral ,virtue1 wherein the false notions of ,machiavel1 ,hobbs1 ,spinosa1 and ,mr4 ,bayle1 as they are collected and digested by the ,author of the ,fable of the ,bees1 are examined and confuted2 and the eternal and unalterable nature and obligation of moral virtue is stated and vindicated2 to which is prefixed1 a ,prefatory ,introduction1 in a ,letter to that ,author1 ,by ,alexander ,innes1 ,d4 ,d4 ,preacher ,assistant at ,st4 ,margaret's1 ,westminster4 ,the small addition which ,i said was made to that notable piece of news1 after it came to be annexed to this advertisement1 consisted of these five words 7upon reading the above book71 which were put in after1 sorry for writing the same4 ,this story having been often repeated in the papers1 and never publicly contradicted1 many people1 it seems1 were credulous enough to believe1 notwithstanding the improbability of it4 ,but the least attentive would have suspected the whole1 as soon as they had seen the addition that was made to it1 the second time it was published2 for supposing it to be intelligible1 as it follows the advertisement1 it cannot be pretended1 that the repenting gentleman pronounced those very words4 ,he must have named the book2 and if he had said1 that his sorrow was occasioned by reading the ,,aret-,,logia1 or the new book of the reverend ,dr4 ,innes1 how came such a remarkable part of his confession to be omitted in the first publication1 where the well-dressed gentleman's words and actions seemed to be set down with so much care and exactness8 ,besides1 every body knows the great industry1 and general intelligence of our news-writers3 if such a farce had really been acted1 and a man had been hired to pronounce the words mentioned1 and throw a book into the fire1 which ,i have often wondered was not done1 is it credible at all1 that a thing so remarkable1 done so openly1 and before so many witnesses1 the first day of ,march1 should not be taken notice of in any of the papers before the ninth1 and never be repeated afterwards1 or ever mentioned but as an appendix of the advertisement to recommend ,dr4 ,innes's book8 ,however1 this story has been much talked of1 and occasioned a great deal of mirth among my acquaintance1 several of whom have earnestly pressed me more than once to advertise the falsity of it1 which ,i would never comply with for fear of being laughed at1 as some years ago poor ,dr4 ,patridge was1 for seriously maintaining that he was not dead4 ,but all this while we were in the dark1 and nobody could tell how this report came into the world1 or what it could be that had given a handle to it1 when one evening a friend of mine1 who had borrowed ,dr4 ,innes's book1 which till then ,i had never seen1 showed me in it the following lines4 ,but propos ,sir1 if ,i rightly remember1 the ingenuous ,mr4 ,law1 in his ,remarks upon your ,fable of the ,bees1 puts you in mind of a promise you had made1 by which you obliged yourself to burn that book at any time or place your adversary should appoint1 if any thing should be found in it tending to immorality or the corruption of manners4 ,i have a great respect for that gentleman1 though ,i am not personally acquainted with him1 but ,i cannot but condemn his excessive credulity and good nature1 in believing that a man of your principles could be a slave to his word2 for my own part1 ,i think1 ,i know you too well to be so easily imposed upon2 or if1 after all1 you should4 really persist in your resolution1 and commit it to the flames1 ,i appoint the first of ,march1 before ,st4 ,james's ,gate1 for that purpose1 it being the birthday of the best and most glorious queen upon earth2 and the burning of your book the smallest atonement you can make1 for endeavouring to corrupt and debauch his majesty's subjects in their principles4 ,now1 ,sir1 if you agree to this1 ,i hope you are not so destitute of friends1 but that you may find some charitable neighbour or other1 who will lend you a helping hand1 and throw in the author at the same time by way of appendix2 the doing of which will1 in my opinion1 complete the solemnity of the day4 ,i am not your patient1 but1 your most humble servant4 ,thus ends what1 in the ,,aret-,,logia ,doctor ,innes is pleased to call a ,prefatory ,introduction1 in a ,letter to the ,author of the ,fable of the ,bees4 ,it is signed ,a4 ,i4 and dated ,tot-hill-fields1 ,westminster1 ,jan4 #bj4 #agbg-h4 ,now all our wonder ceased4 ,the judicious reader will easily allow me1 that1 having read thus much1 ,i had an ample dispensation from going on any further2 therefore ,i can say nothing of the book3 and as to the reverend author of it1 who seems to think himself so well acquainted with my principles1 ,i have not the honour to know either him or his morals1 otherwise than from what ,i have quoted here4 ,ex pede ,herculem4 ,london1 ,october #bj4 #agbh4 ,,the ,,first ,,dialogue4 ,,between ,,horatio1 ,,cleomenes1 and ,,fulvia4 ,,cleomenes4 ,always in haste1 ,horatio8 ,hor4 ,i must beg of you to excuse me1 ,i am obliged to go4 ,cleo4 ,whether you have other engagements than you used to have1 or whether your temper is changed1 ,i cannot tell1 but something has made an alteration in you1 of which ,i cannot comprehend the cause4 ,there is no man in the world whose friendship ,i value more than ,i do yours1 or whose company ,i like better1 yet ,i can never have it4 ,i profess ,i have thought sometimes that you have avoided me on purpose4 ,hor4 ,i am sorry1 ,cleomenes1 ,i should have been wanting in civility to you2 ,i come every week constantly to pay my respects to you1 and if ever ,i fail1 ,i always send to inquire after your health4 ,cleo4 ,no man outdoes ,horatio in civility2 but ,i thought something more was due to our affections and long acquaintance1 besides compliments and ceremony3 ,of late ,i have never been to wait upon you1 but you are gone abroad1 or ,i find you engaged2 and when ,i have the honour to see you here1 your stay is only momentary4 ,pray pardon my rudeness for once3 ,what is it that hinders you now from keeping me company for an hour or two8 ,my cousin talks of going out1 and ,i shall be all alone4 ,hor4 ,i know better than to rob you of such an opportunity for speculation8 ,cleo4 ,speculation6 on what1 pray8 ,hor4 ,that vileness of our species in the refined way of thinking you have of late been so fond of1 ,i call it the scheme of deformity1 the partisans of which study chiefly to make every thing in our nature appear as ugly and contemptible as it is possible1 and take uncommon pains to persuade men that they are devils4 ,cleo4 ,if that be all1 ,i shall soon convince you4 ,hor4 ,no conviction to me1 ,i beseech you3 ,i am determined1 and fully persuaded1 that there is good in the world as well as evil2 and that the words1 honesty1 benevolence1 and humanity1 and even charity1 are not empty sounds only1 but that there are such things in spite of the ,fable of the ,bees2 and ,i am resolved to believe1 that1 notwithstanding the degeneracy of mankind1 and the wickedness of the age1 there are men now living1 who are actually possessed of those virtues4 ,cleo4 ,but you do not know what ,i am going to say3 ,i am---- ,hor4 ,that may be1 but ,i will not hear one word2 all you can say is lost upon me1 and if you will not give me leave to speak out1 ,i am gone this moment4 ,that cursed book has bewitched you1 and made you deny the existence of those very virtues that had gained you the esteem of your friends4 ,you know this is not my usual language2 ,i hate to say harsh things3 ,but what regard can1 or ought one to have for an author that treats every body de haut en bas1 makes a jest of virtue and honour1 calls ,alexander the ,great a madman1 and spares kings and princes no more than any one1 would the most abject of the people8 ,the business of his philosophy is just the reverse to that of the herald's office2 for1 as there they are always contriving and finding out high and illustrious pedigrees for low and obscure people1 so your author is ever searching after1 and inventing mean contemptible origins for worthy and honourable actions4 ,i am your very humble servant4 ,cleo4 ,stay4 ,i am of your opinion2 what ,i offered to convince you of1 was1 how entirely ,i am recovered of the folly which you have so justly exposed3 ,i have left that error4 ,hor4 ,are you in earnest8 ,cleo4 ,no man more3 ,there is no greater stickler for the social virtues than myself2 and ,i much question1 whether there is any of ,lord ,shaftsbury's admirers that will go my lengths6 ,hor4 ,i shall be glad to see you go my lengths first1 and as many more as you please4 ,you cannot conceive1 ,cleomenes1 how it has grieved me1 when ,i have seen how many enemies you made yourself by that extravagant way of arguing4 ,if you are but serious1 whence comes this change8 ,cleo4 ,in the first place1 ,i grew weary of having every body against me3 and1 in the second1 there is more room for invention in the other system4 ,poets and orators in the social system have fine opportunities of exerting themselves4 ,hor4 ,i very much suspect the recovery you boast of3 ,are you convinced1 that the other system was false1 which you might have easily learned from seeing every body against you8 ,cleo4 ,false to be sure2 but what you allege is no proof of it3 for if the greatest part of mankind were not against that scheme of deformity1 as you justly call it1 insincerity could not be so general1 as the scheme itself supposes it to be3 ,but since my eyes have been opened1 ,i have found out that truth and probability are the silliest things in the world2 they are of no manner of use1 especially among the people de bon gout4 ,hor4 ,i thought what a convert you was3 but what new madness has seized you now8 ,cleo4 ,no madness at all3 ,i say1 and will maintain it to the world1 that truth1 in the sublime1 is very impertinent2 and that in the arts and sciences1 fit for men of taste to look into1 a master cannot commit a more unpardonable fault1 than sticking to1 or being influenced by truth1 where it interferes with what is agreeable4 ,hor4 ,homely truths indeed---- ,cleo4 ,look upon that ,dutch piece of the nativity3 what charming colouring there is6 ,what a fine pencil1 and how just are the outlines for a piece so curiously finished6 ,but what a fool the fellow was to draw hay1 and straw1 and water1 and a rack as well as a manger3 it is a wonder he did not put the bambino into the manger4 ,ful4 ,the bambino8 ,that is the child1 ,i suppose3 why it should be in the manger2 should it not8 ,does not the history tell us1 that the child was laid in the manger8 ,i have no skill in painting2 but ,i can see whether things are drawn to the life or not3 sure nothing can be more like the head of an ox than that there4 ,a picture then pleases me best when the art in such a manner deceives my eye1 that1 without making any allowance1 ,i can imagine ,i see the things in reality which the painter has endeavoured to represent4 ,i have always thought it an admirable piece2 sure nothing in the world can be more like nature4 ,cleo4 ,like nature6 ,so much the worse3 ,indeed1 cousin1 it is easily seen1 that you have no skill in painting4 ,it is not nature1 but agreeable nature1 la belle nature1 that is to be represented3 all things that are abject1 low1 pitiful1 and mean1 are carefully to be avoided1 and kept out of sight2 because1 to men of the true taste1 they are as offensive as things that are shocking1 and really nasty4 ,ful4 ,at that rate1 the ,virgin ,mary's condition1 and our ,saviour's birth1 are never to be painted4 ,cleo4 ,that is your mistake2 the subject itself is noble3 ,let us go but in the next room1 and ,i will show you the difference4----,look upon that picture1 which is the same history4 ,there is fine architecture1 there is a colonnade2 can any thing be thought of more magnificent8 ,how skilfully is that ass removed1 and how little you see of the ox3 pray1 mind the obscurity they are both placed in4 ,it hangs in a strong light1 or else one might look ten times upon the picture without observing them3 ,behold these pillars of the ,corinthian order1 how lofty they are1 and what an effect they have1 what a noble space1 what an area here is6 ,how nobly every thing concurs to express the majestic grandeur of the subject1 and strikes the soul with awe and admiration at the same time6 ,ful4 ,pray cousin1 has good sense ever any share in the judgment which your men of true taste form about pictures8 ,hor4 ,madam6 ,ful4 ,i beg pardon1 ,sir1 if ,i have offended3 but to me it seems strange to hear such commendations given to a painter1 for turning the stable of a country inn into a palace of extraordinary magnificence3 ,this is a great deal worse than ,swift's ,metamorphosis of ,philemon and ,baucis2 for there some show of resemblance is kept in the changes4 ,hor4 ,in a country stable1 ,madam1 there is nothing but filth and nastiness1 or vile abject things not fit to be seen1 at least not capable of entertaining persons of quality4 ,ful4 ,the ,dutch picture in the next room has nothing that is offensive3 but an ,augean stable1 even before ,hercules had cleaned it1 would be less shocking to me than those fluted pillars2 for nobody can please my eye that affronts my understanding3 ,when ,i desire a man to paint a considerable history1 which every body knows to have been transacted at a country inn1 does he not strangely impose upon me1 because he understands architecture1 to draw me a room that might have served for a great hall1 or banqueting-house1 to any ,roman emperor8 ,besides1 that the poor and abject state in which our ,saviour chose to appear at his coming into the world1 is the most material circumstance of the history3 it contains an excellent moral against vain pomp1 and is the strongest persuasive to humility1 which1 in the ,italian1 are more than lost4 ,hor4 ,indeed1 ,madam1 experience is against you2 and it is certain1 that1 even among the vulgar1 the representations of mean and abject things1 and such as they are familiar with1 have not that effect1 and either breed contempt1 or are insignificant3 whereas vast piles1 stately buildings1 roofs of uncommon height1 surprising ornaments1 and all the architecture of the grand taste1 are the fittest to raise devotion1 and inspire men with veneration1 and a religious awe for the places that have these excellencies to boast of4 ,is there ever a meeting-house or barn to be compared to a fine cathedral1 for this purpose8 ,ful4 ,i believe there is a mechanical way of raising devotion in silly superstitious creatures2 but an attentive contemplation on the works of ,god1 ,i am sure---- ,cleo4 ,pray1 cousin1 say no more in defence of your low taste3 ,the painter has nothing to do with the truth of the history2 his business is to express the dignity of the subject1 and1 in compliment to his judges1 never to forget the excellency of our species3 ,all his art and good sense must be employed in raising that to the highest pitch2 ,great masters do not paint for the common people1 but for persons of refined understanding3 ,what you complain o is the effect of the good manners and complaisance of the painter4 ,when he had drawn the ,infant and the ,madona1 he thought the least glimpse of the ox and the ass would be sufficient to acquaint you with the history3 ,they who want more fescuing1 and a broader explanation1 he does not desire his picture should ever be shown to2 for the rest1 he entertains you with nothing but what is noble and worthy your attention3 ,you see he is an architect1 and completely skilled in perspective1 and he shows you how finely he can round a pillar1 and that both the depth1 and the height of a space1 may be drawn on a flat1 with all the other wonders he performs by his skill in that inconceivable mystery of light and shadows4 ,ful4 ,why then is it pretended that painting is an imitation of nature8 ,cleo4 ,at first setting out a scholar is to copy things exactly as he sees them2 but from a great matter1 when he is left to his own invention1 it is expected he should take the perfections of nature1 and not paint it as it is1 but as we would wish it to be4 ,zeuxis1 to draw a goddess1 took five beautiful women1 from which he culled what was most graceful in each4 ,ful4 ,still every grace he painted was taken from nature4 ,cleo4 ,that's true2 but he left nature her rubbish1 and imitated nothing but what was excellent1 which made the assemblage superior to any thing in nature4 ,demetrius was taxed for being too natural2 ,dionysus was also blamed for drawing men like us4 ,nearer our times1 ,michael ,angelo was esteemed too natural1 and ,lysippus of old upbraided the common sort of sculptors for making men such as they were found in nature4 ,ful4 ,are these things real8 ,cleo4 ,you may read it yourself in ,graham's ,preface to ,the ,art of ,painting3 the book is above in the library4 ,hor4 ,these things may seem strange to you1 ,madam1 but they are of immense use to the public3 the higher we can carry the excellency of our species1 the more those beautiful images will fill noble minds with worthy and suitable ideas of their own dignity1 that will seldom fail of spurring them on to virtue and heroic actions4 ,there is a grandeur to be expressed in things that far surpasses the beauties of simple nature4 ,you take delight in operas1 ,madam1 ,i do not question2 you must have minded the noble manner and stateliness beyond nature1 which every thing there is executed with4 ,what gentle touches1 what slight and yet majestic motions are made use of to express the most boisterous passions6 ,as the subject is always lofty1 so no posture is to be chosen but what is serious and significant1 as well as comely and agreeable2 should the actions there be represented as they are in common life1 they would ruin the sublime1 and at once rob you of all your pleasure4 ,ful4 ,i never expected any thing natural at an opera2 but as persons of distinction resort thither1 and every body comes dressed1 it is a sort of employment1 and ,i seldom miss a night1 because it is the fashion to go3 besides1 the royal family1 and the monarch himself1 generally honouring them with their presence1 it is almost become a duty to attend them1 as much as it is to go to court4 ,what diverts me there is the company1 the lights1 the music1 the scenes1 and other decorations3 but as ,i understand but very few words of ,italian1 so what is most admired in the recitativo is lost upon me1 which makes the acting part to me rather ridiculous than---- ,hor4 ,ridiculous1 ,madam6 ,for ,heaven's sake---- ,ful4 ,i beg pardon1 ,sir1 for the expression1 ,i never laughed at an opera in my life2 but ,i confess1 as to the entertainment itself1 that a good play is infinitely more diverting to me2 and ,i prefer any thing that informs my understanding beyond all the recreations which either my eyes or my ears can be regaled with4 ,hor4 ,i am sorry to hear a lady of your good sense make such a choice4 ,have you no taste for music1 ,madam8 ,ful4 ,i named that as part of my diversion4 ,cleo4 ,my cousin plays very well upon the harpsichord herself4 ,ful4 ,i love to hear good music2 but it does not throw me into those raptures1 ,i hear others speak of4 ,hor4 ,nothing certainly can elevate the mind beyond a fine concert3 it seems to disengage the soul from the body1 and lift it up to heaven4 ,it is in this situation1 that we are most capable of receiving extraordinary impressions3 when the instruments cease1 our temper is subdued1 and beautiful action joins with the skilful voice1 in setting before us in a transcendent light1 the heroic labours we are come to admire1 and which the word ,opera imports4 ,the powerful harmony between the engaging sounds and speaking gestures invades the heart1 and forcibly inspires us with those noble sentiments1 which to entertain1 the most expressive words can only attempt to persuade us4 ,few comedies are tolerable1 and in the best of them1 if the levity of the expressions does not corrupt1 the meanness of the subject must debase the manners2 at least to persons of quality4 ,in tragedies the style is more sublime2 and the subjects generally great2 but all violent passions1 and even the representations of them1 ruffle and discompose the mind3 besides1 when men endeavour to express things strongly1 and they are acted to the life1 it often happens that the images do mischief1 because they are too moving1 and that the action is faulty for being too natural2 and experience teaches us1 that in unguarded minds1 by those pathetic performances1 flames are often raised that are prejudicial to virtue4 ,the playhouses themselves are far from being inviting1 much less the companies1 at least the greatest part of them that frequent them1 some of which are almost of the lowest rank of all4 ,the disgust that persons of the least elegance receive from these people are many2 besides1 the ill scents1 and unseemly sights one meets with1 of careless rakes and impudent wenches1 that1 having paid their money1 reckon themselves to be all upon the level with every body there2 the oaths1 scurrilities1 and vile jests one is often obliged to hear1 without resenting them2 and the odd mixture of high and low that are all partaking of the same diversion1 without regard to dress or quality1 are all very offensive2 and it cannot but be very disagreeable to polite people to be in the same crowd with a variety of persons1 some of them below mediocrity1 that pay no deference to one another4 ,at the opera1 every thing charms and concurs to make happiness complete4 ,the sweetness of voice1 in the first place1 and the solemn composure of the action1 serve to mitigate and allay every passion2 it is the gentleness of them1 and the calm serenity of the mind1 that make us amiable1 and bring us the nearest to the perfection of angels2 whereas1 the violence of the passions1 in which the corruption of the heart chiefly consists1 dethrones our reason1 and renders us more like unto savages4 ,it is incredible1 how prone we are to imitation1 and how strangely1 unknown to ourselves1 we are shaped and fashioned after the models and examples that are often set before us4 ,no anger nor jealousy are ever to be seen at an opera1 that distort the features2 no flames that are noxious1 nor is any love represented in them1 that is not pure and next to seraphic2 and it is impossible for the remembrance to carry any thing away from them1 that can sully the imagination4 ,secondly1 the company is of another sort3 the place itself is a security to peace1 as well as every one's honour2 and it is impossible to name another1 where blooming innocence and irresistible beauty stand in so little need of guardians4 ,here we are sure never to meet with petulancy or ill manners1 and to be free from immodest ribaldry1 libertine wit1 and detestable satire4 ,if you will mind1 on the one hand1 the richness and splendour of dress1 and the quality of the persons that appear in them2 the variety of colours1 and the lustre of the fair in a spacious theatre1 well illuminated and adorned2 and on the other1 the grave deportment of the assembly1 and the consciousness that appears in every countenance1 of the respect they owe to each other1 you will be forced to confess1 that upon earth there cannot be a pastime more agreeable3 believe me1 ,madam1 there is no place1 where both sexes have such opportunities of imbibing exalted sentiments1 and raising themselves above the vulgar1 as they have at the opera2 and there is no other sort of diversion or assembly1 from the frequenting of which1 young persons of quality can have equal hopes of forming their manners1 and contracting a strong and lasting habit of virtue4 ,ful4 ,you have said more in commendation of operas1 ,horatio1 than ,i ever heard or thought of before2 and ,i think every body who loves that diversion is highly obliged to you4 ,the grand gout1 ,i believe1 is a great help in panegyric1 especially1 where it is an incivility strictly to examine and over-curiously to look into matters4 ,cleo4 ,what say you now1 ,fulvia1 of nature and good sense1 are they not quite beat out of doors8 ,ful4 ,i have heard nothing yet1 to make me out of conceit with good sense2 though what you insinuated of nature1 as if it was not to be imitated in painting1 is an opinion1 ,i must confess1 which hitherto ,i more admire at1 than ,i can approve of it4 ,hor4 ,i would never recommend any thing1 ,madam1 that is repugnant to good sense2 but ,cleomenes must have some design in over-acting the part he pretends to have chosen4 ,what he said about painting is very true1 whether he spoke it in jest or in earnest2 but he talks so diametrically opposite to the opinion which he is known every where to defend of late1 that ,i do not know what to make of him4 ,ful4 ,i am convinced of the narrowness of my own understanding1 and am going to visit some persons1 with whom ,i shall be more upon the level4 ,hor4 ,you will give me leave to wait upon you to your coach1 ,madam4----,pray1 ,cleomenes1 what is it you have got in your head8 ,cleo4 ,nothing at all3 ,i told you before1 that ,i was so entirely recovered from my folly1 that few people went my lengths4 ,what jealousy you entertain of me ,i do not know2 but ,i find myself much improved in the social system4 ,formerly ,i thought1 that chief ministers1 and all those at the helm of affairs1 acted from principles of avarice and ambition2 that in all the pains they took1 and even in the slaveries they underwent for the public good1 they had their private ends1 and that they were supported in the fatigue by secret enjoyments they were unwilling to own4 ,it is not a month ago1 that ,i imagined that the inward care and real solicitude of all great men centered within themselves2 and that to enrich themselves1 acquire titles of honour1 and raise their families on the one hand1 and to have opportunities on the other of displaying a judicious fancy to all the elegant comforts of life1 and establishing1 without the least trouble of self-denial1 the reputation of being wise1 humane1 and munificent1 were the things1 which1 besides the satisfaction there is in superiority and the pleasure of governing1 all candidates to high offices and great posts proposed to themselves1 from the places they sued for3 ,i was so narrow minded1 that ,i could not conceive how a man would ever voluntarily submit to be a slave but to serve himself4 ,but ,i have abandoned that ill-natured way of judging3 ,i plainly perceive the public good1 in all the designs of politicians1 the social virtues shine in every action1 and ,i find that the national interest is the compass that all statesmen steer by4 ,hor4 ,that is more than ,i can prove2 but certainly there have been such men1 there have been patriots1 that without selfish views have taken incredible pains for their country's welfare3 nay1 there are men now that would do the same1 if they were employed2 and we have had princes that have neglected their ease and pleasure1 and sacrificed their quiet1 to promote the prosperity and increase the wealth and honour of the kingdom1 and had nothing so much at heart as the happiness of their subjects4 ,cleo4 ,no disaffection1 ,i beg of you4 ,the difference between past and present times1 and persons in and out of places1 is perhaps clearer to you than it is to me2 but it is many years ago1 you know1 that it has been agreed between us never to enter into party disputes3 what ,i desire your attention to1 is my reformation1 which you seem to doubt of1 and the great change that is wrought in me4 ,the religion of most kings and other high potentates1 ,i formerly had but a slender opinion of1 but now ,i measure their piety by what they say of it themselves to their subjects4 ,hor4 ,that is very kindly done4 ,cleo4 ,by thinking meanly of things1 ,i once had strange blundering notions concerning foreign wars3 ,i thought that many of them arose from trifling causes1 magnified by politicians for their own ends2 that the most ruinous misunderstandings between states and kingdoms might spring from the hidden malice1 folly1 or caprice of one man2 that many of them had been owing to the private quarrels1 piques1 resentments1 and the haughtiness of the chief ministers of the respective nations1 that were the sufferers2 and that what is called personal hatred between princes seldom was more at first1 than either an open or secret animosity which the two great favourites of those courts had against one another3 but now ,i have learned to derive those things from higher causes4 ,i am reconciled likewise to the luxury of the voluptuous1 which ,i used to be offended at1 because now ,i am convinced that the money of most rich men1 is laid out with the social design of promoting arts and sciences1 and that in the most expensive undertakings their principal aim is the employment of the poor4 ,hor4 ,these are lengths indeed4 ,cleo4 ,i have a strong aversion to satire1 and detest it every whit as much as you do3 the most instructive writings to understand the world1 and penetrate into the heart of man1 ,i take to be addresses1 epithets1 dedications1 and above all1 the preambles to patents1 of which ,i am making a large collection4 ,hor4 ,a very useful undertaking6 ,cleo4 ,but to remove all your doubts of my conversion1 ,i will show you some easy rules ,i have laid down for young beginners4 ,hor4 ,what to do8 ,cleo4 ,to judge of mens actions by the lovely system of ,lord ,shaftsbury1 in a manner diametrically opposite to that of the ,fable of the ,bees4 ,hor4 ,i do not understand you4 ,cleo4 ,you will presently4 ,i have called them rules1 but they are rather examples from which the rules are to be gathered3 as for instance1 if we see an industrious poor woman1 who has pinched her belly1 and gone in rags for a considerable time to save forty shillings1 part with her money to put out her son at six years of age to a chimney-sweeper2 to judge of her charitably1 according to the system of the social virtues1 we must imagine1 that though she never paid for the sweeping of a chimney in her life1 she knows by experience1 that for want of this necessary cleanliness the broth has been often spoiled1 and many a chimney has been set on fire1 and therefore to do good in her generation1 as far as she is able1 she gives up her all1 both offspring and estate1 to assist in preventing the several mischiefs that are often occasioned by great quantities of soot disregarded2 and1 free from selfishness1 sacrifices her only son to the most wretched employment for the public welfare4 ,hor4 ,you do not vie ,i see with ,lord ,shaftsbury1 for loftiness of subjects4 ,cleo4 ,when in a starry night with amazement we behold the glory of the firmament1 nothing is more obvious than that the whole1 the beautiful all1 must be the workmanship of one great ,architect of power and wisdom stupendous2 and it is as evident1 that every thing in the universe is a constituent part of one entire fabric4 ,hor4 ,would you make a jest of this too4 ,cleo4 ,far from it3 they are awful truths1 of which ,i am as much convinced as ,i am of my own existence2 but ,i was going to name the consequences1 which ,lord ,shaftsbury draws from them1 in order to demonstrate to you1 that ,i am a convert1 and a very punctual observer of his ,lordship's instructions1 and that1 in my judgment on the poor woman's conduct1 there is nothing that is not entirely agreeable to the generous way of thinking set forth and recommended in the ,characteristics4 ,hor4 ,is it possible a man should read such a book1 and make no better use of it6 ,i desire you would name the consequences you speak of4 ,cleo4 ,as that infinity of luminous bodies1 however different in magnitude1 velocity1 and the figures they describe in their courses1 concur all of them to make up the universe1 so this little spot we inhabit is likewise a compound of air1 water1 fire1 minerals1 vegetables1 and living creatures1 which1 though vastly differing from one another in their nature1 do altogether make up the body of this terraqueous globe4 ,hor4 ,this is very right1 and in the same manner as our whole species is composed of many nations of different religions1 forms of government1 interests and manners that divide and share the earth between them2 so the civil society in every nation consists in great multitudes of both sexes1 that widely differing from each other in age1 constitution1 strength1 temper1 wisdom and possessions1 all help to make up one body politic4 ,cleo4 ,the same exactly which ,i would have said3 now1 pray ,sir1 is not the great end of men's forming themselves into such societies1 mutual happiness2 ,i mean1 do not all individual persons1 from being thus combined1 propose to themselves a more comfortable condition of life1 than human creatures1 if they were to live like other wild animals1 without tie or dependance1 could enjoy in a free and savage state8 ,hor4 ,this certainly is not only the end1 but the end which is every where attained to by government and society1 in some degree or other4 ,cleo4 ,hence it must follow1 that it is always wrong for men to pursue gain or pleasure1 by means that are visibly detrimental to the civil society1 and that creatures who can do this must be narrow-souled1 short-sighted1 selfish people2 whereas1 wise men never look upon themselves as individual persons1 without considering the whole1 of which they are but trifling parts in respect to bulk1 and are incapable of receiving any satisfaction from things that interfere with the public welfare4 ,this being undeniably true1 ought not all private advantage to give way to this general interest2 and ought it not to be every one's endeavour1 to increase this common stock of happiness2 and1 in order to it1 do what he can to render himself a serviceable and useful member of that whole body which he belongs to8 ,hor4 ,what of all this8 ,cleo4 ,has not my poor woman1 in what ,i have related of her1 acted in conformity to this social system8 ,hor4 ,can any one in his senses imagine1 that an indigent thoughtless wretch1 without sense or education1 should ever act from such generous principles8 ,cleo4 ,poor ,i told you the woman was1 and ,i will not insist upon her education2 but as for her being thoughtless and void of sense1 you will give me leave to say1 that it is an aspersion for which you have no manner of foundation2 and from the account ,i have given of her1 nothing can be gathered but that she was a considerate1 virtuous1 wise woman1 in poverty4 ,hor4 ,i suppose you would persuade me that you are in earnest4 ,cleo4 ,i am much more so than you imagine2 and say once1 more1 that1 in the example ,i have given1 ,i have trod exactly in my ,lord ,shaftsbury's steps1 and closely followed the social system4 ,if ,i have committed any error1 show it me4 ,hor4 ,did that author ever meddle with any thing so low and pitiful4 ,cleo4 ,there can be nothing mean in noble actions1 whoever the persons are that perform them4 ,but if the vulgar are to be all excluded from the social virtues1 what rule or instruction shall the labouring poor1 which are by far the greatest part of the nation1 have left them to walk by1 when the ,characteristics have made a jest of all revealed religion1 especially the ,christian8 but if you despise the poor and illiterate1 ,i can1 in the same method1 judge of men in higher stations4 ,let the enemies to the social system behold the venerable counsellor1 now grown eminent for his wealth1 that at his great age continues sweltering at the bar to plead the doubtful cause1 and1 regardless of his dinner1 shorten his own life in endeavouring to secure the possessions of others4 ,how conspicuous is the benevolence of the physician to his kind1 who1 from morning till night1 visiting the sick1 keeps several sets of horses to be more serviceable to many1 and still grudges himself the time for the necessary functions of life6 ,in the same manner the indefatigable clergyman1 who1 with his ministry1 supplies a very large parish already1 solicits with zeal to be as useful and beneficent to another1 though fifty of his order1 yet unemployed1 offer their service for the same purpose4 ,hor4 ,i perceive your drift3 from the strained panegyrics you labour at1 you would form arguments ad absurdum3 the banter is ingenious enough1 and1 at proper times1 might serve to raise a laugh2 but then you must own likewise1 that those studied encomiums will not bear to be seriously examined into4 ,when we consider that the great business as well as perpetual solicitude of the poor1 are to supply their immediate wants1 and keep themselves from starving1 and that their children are a burden to them1 which they groan under1 and desire to be delivered from by all possible means1 that are not clashing with the low involuntary affection which nature forces them to have for their offspring3 when1 ,i say1 we consider this1 the virtues of your industrious make no great figure4 ,the public spirit likewise1 and the generous principles1 your sagacity has found out in the three faculties1 to which men are brought up for a livelihood1 seem to be very far fetched4 ,fame1 wealth1 and greatness1 every age can witness3 but whatever labour or fatigue they submit to1 the motives of their actions are as conspicuous as their calling themselves4 ,cleo4 ,are they not beneficial to mankind1 and of use to the public8 ,hor4 ,i do not deny that2 we often receive inestimable benefits from them1 and the good ones in either profession are not only useful1 but very necessary to the society3 but though there are several that sacrifice their whole lives1 and all the comforts of them1 to their business1 there is not one of them that would take a quarter of the pains he now is at1 if1 without taking any1 he could acquire the same money1 reputation1 and other advantages that may accrue to him from the esteem or gratitude of those whom he has been serviceable to2 and ,i do not believe1 there is an eminent man among them that would not own this if the question was put to him4 ,therefore1 when ambition and the love of money are avowed principles men act from1 it is very silly to ascribe virtues to them1 which they themselves pretend to lay no manner of claim to4 ,but your encomium upon the parson is the merriest jest of all3 ,i have heard many excuses made1 and some of them very frivolous1 for the covetousness of priests2 but what you have picked out in their praise is more extraordinary than any thing ,i ever met with2 and the most partial advocate and admirer of the clergy never yet discovered before yourself a great virtue in their hunting after pluralities1 when they were well provided for themselves1 and many others for want of employ were ready to starve4 ,cleo4 ,but if there be any reality in the social system1 it would be better for the public1 if men1 in1 all professions1 were to act from those generous principles2 and you will allow1 that the society would be the gainers1 if the generality in the three faculties would mind others more1 and themselves less than they do now4 ,hor4 ,i do not know that2 and considering what slavery some lawyers1 as well as physicians1 undergo1 ,i much question whether it would be possible for them to exert themselves in the same manner though they would1 if the constant baits and refreshments of large fees did not help to support human nature1 by continually stimulating this darling passion4 ,cleo4 ,indeed1 ,horatio1 this is a stronger argument against the social system1 and more injurious to it than any thing that has been said by the author whom you have exclaimed against with so much bitterness4 ,hor4 ,i deny that3 ,i do not conclude from the selfishness in some1 that there is no virtue in others4 ,cleo4 ,nor he neither1 and you very much wrong him if you assert that he ever did4 ,hor4 ,i refuse to commend what is not praise-worthy2 but as bad as mankind are1 virtue has an existence as well as vice1 though it is more scarce4 ,cleo4 ,what you said last1 nobody ever contradicted2 but ,i do not know what you would be at3 does not the ,lord ,shaftsbury endeavour to do good1 and promote the social virtues1 and am ,i not doing the very same8 suppose me to be in the wrong in the favourable constructions ,i have made of things1 still it is to be wished for at least1 that men had a greater regard to the public welfare1 less fondness for their private interest1 and more charity for their neighbours1 than the generality of them have4 ,hor4 ,to be wished for1 perhaps1 it may be1 but what probability is there that this ever will come to pass8 ,cleo4 ,and unless that can come to pass1 it is the idlest thing in the world to discourse upon1 and demonstrate the excellency of virtue2 what signifies it to set forth the beauty of it1 unless it was possible that men should fall in love with it8 ,hor4 ,if virtue was never recommended1 men might grow worse than they are4 ,cleo4 ,then1 by the same reason1 if it was recommended more1 men might grow better than they are4 ,but ,i see perfectly well the reason of these shifts and evasions you make use of against your opinion3 ,you find yourself under a necessity of allowing my panegyrics1 as you call them1 to be just2 or finding the same fault with most of my ,lord ,shaftsbury's2 and you would do neither if you could help it3 ,from mens preferring company to solitude1 his ,lordship pretends to prove the love and natural affection we have for our own species3 ,if this was examined into with the same strictness as you have done every thing ,i have said in behalf of the three faculties1 ,i believe that the solidity of the consequences would be pretty equal in both4 ,but ,i stick to my text1 and stand up for the social virtues3 ,the noble author of that system had a most charitable opinion of his species1 and extolled the dignity of it in an extraordinary manner1 and why my imitation of him should be called a banter1 ,i see no reason4 ,he certainly wrote with a good design1 and endeavoured to inspire his readers with refined notions1 and a public spirit abstract from religion3 ,the world enjoys the fruits of his labours2 but the advantage that is justly expected from his writings1 can never be so universally felt1 before that public spirit1 which he recommended1 comes down to the meanest tradesmen1 whom you would endeavour to exclude from the generous sentiments and noble pleasures that are already so visible in many4 ,i am now thinking on two sorts of people that stand very much in need of1 and yet hardly ever meet with one another3 ,this misfortune must have caused such a chasm in the band of society1 that no depth of thought1 or happiness of contrivance1 could have filled up the vacuity1 if a most tender regard for the commonwealth1 and the height of benevolence did not influence and oblige others1 mere strangers to those people1 and commonly men of small education1 to afflict them with their good offices1 and stop up the gap4 ,many ingenious workmen1 in obscure dwellings1 would be starved in spite of industry1 only for want of knowing where to sell the product of their labour1 if there were not others to dispose of it for them3 ,and again1 the rich and extravagant are daily furnished with an infinite variety of superfluous knicknacks and elaborate trifles1 every one of them invented to gratify either a needless curiosity1 or else wantonness and folly2 and which they could never have thought of1 much less wanted1 had they never seen or known where to buy them4 ,what a blessing1 then1 to the public1 is the social toyman1 who lays out a considerable estate to gratify the desires of these two different classes of people8 ,he procures food and raiment for the deserving poor1 and searches with great diligence after the most skilful artificers1 that no man shall be able to produce better workmanship than himself3 with studied civilities1 and a serene countenance1 he entertains the greatest strangers2 and1 often speaking to them first1 kindly offers to guess at their wants3 ,he confines not his attendance to a few stated hours1 but waits their leisure all day long in an open shop1 where he bears the summer's heat1 and winter's cold1 with equal cheerfulness4 ,what a beautiful prospect is here of natural affection to our kind6 ,for1 if he acts from that principle1 who only furnishes us with necessaries of life1 certainly he shows a more superlative love and indulgence to his species1 who will not suffer the most whimsical of it to be an hour destitute of what he shall fancy1 even things the most unnecessary4 ,hor4 ,you have made the most of it indeed1 but are you not tired yet with these fooleries yourself8 ,cleo4 ,what fault do you find with these kind constructions2 do they detract from the dignity of our species8 ,hor4 ,i admire your invention1 and thus much ,i will own1 that1 by overacting the part in that extravagant manner1 you have set the social system in a more disadvantageous light than ever ,i had considered it before3 ,but the best things1 you know1 may be ridiculed4 ,cleo4 ,whether ,i know that or not1 ,lord ,shaftsbury has flatly denied it2 and takes joke and banter to be the best and surest touchstone to prove the worth of things3 ,it is his opinion1 that no ridicule can be fastened upon what is really great and good4 ,his ,lordship has made use of that test to try the ,scriptures and the ,christian religion by1 and exposed them because it seems they could not stand it4 ,hor4 ,he has exposed superstition1 and the miserable notions the vulgar were taught to have of ,god2 but no man ever had more sublime ideas of the ,supreme ,being1 and the universe1 than himself4 ,cleo4 ,you are convinced1 that what ,i charge him with is true4 ,hor4 ,i do not pretend to defend every syllable that noble ,lord has wrote4 ,his style is engaging1 his language is polite1 his reasoning strong2 many of his thoughts are beautifully expressed1 and his images1 for the greatest part1 inimitably fine4 ,i may be pleased with an author1 without obliging myself to answer every cavil that shall be made against him4 ,as to what you call your imitation of him1 ,i have no taste in burlesque3 but the laugh you would raise might be turned upon you with less trouble than you seem to have taken4 ,pray1 when you consider the hard and dirty labours that are performed to supply the mob with the vast quantities of strong beer they swill1 do not you discover social virtue in a drayman8 ,cleo4 ,yes1 and in a dray-horse too2 at least as well as ,i can in some great men1 who yet would be very angry should we refuse to believe1 that the most selfish actions of theirs1 if the society received but the least benefit from them1 were chiefly owing to principles of virtue1 and a generous regard to the public4 ,do you believe that1 in the choice of a ,pope1 the greatest dependence of the ,cardinals1 and what they principally rely upon1 is the influence of the ,holy ,ghost8 ,hor4 ,no more than ,i do transubstantiation4 ,cleo4 ,but if you had been brought up a ,roman ,catholic1 you would believe both4 ,hor4 ,i do not know that4 ,cleo4 ,you would1 if you was sincere in your religion1 as thousands of them are1 that are no more destitute of reason and good sense than you or ,i4 ,hor4 ,i have nothing to say as to that3 there are many things incomprehensible1 that yet are certainly true3 ,these are properly the objects of faith2 and1 therefore1 when matters are above my capacity1 and really surpass my understanding1 ,i am silent1 and submit with great humility3 but ,i will swallow nothing which ,i plainly apprehend to be contrary to my reason1 and is directly clashing with my senses4 ,cleo4 ,if you believe a ,providence1 what demonstration can you have1 that ,god does not direct men in an affair of higher importance to all ,christendom1 than any other you can name8 ,hor4 ,this is an ensnaring1 and a very unfair question4 ,providence superintends and governs every thing without exception4 ,to defend my negative1 and give a reason for my unbelief1 it is sufficient1 if ,i prove1 that all the instruments1 and the means they make use of in those elections1 are visibly human and mundane1 and many of them unwarrantable and wicked4 ,cleo4 ,not all the means2 because every day they have prayers1 and solemnly invoke the ,divine assistance4 ,hor4 ,but what stress they lay upon it may be easily gathered from the rest of their behaviour4 ,the court of ,rome is1 without dispute1 the greatest academy of refined politics1 and the best school to learn the art of caballing3 there ordinary cunning1 and known stratagems1 are counted rusticity1 and designs are pursued through all the mazes of human subtlety4 ,genius there must give way to finesse1 as strength does to art in wrestling2 and a certain skill some men have in concealing their capacities from others1 is of far greater use with them1 than real knowledge1 or the soundest understanding4 ,in the sacred college1 where every thing is auro venale1 truth and justice bear the lowest price3 ,cardinal ,palavicini1 and other ,jesuits1 that have been the stanch advocates of the ,papal authority1 have owned with ostentation the ,politia religiosa della chisa1 and not hid from us the virtues and accomplishments1 that were only valuable among the ,purpurati1 in whose judgment over-reaching1 at any rate1 is the highest honour1 and to be outwitted1 though by the basest artifice1 the greatest shame4 ,in conclaves1 more especially1 nothing is carried on without tricks and intrigue2 and in them the heart of man is so deep1 and so dark an abyss1 that the finest air of dissimulation is sometimes found to have been insincere1 and men often deceive one another1 by counterfeiting hypocrisy4 ,and is it credible1 that holiness1 religion1 or the least concern for spirituals1 should have any share in the plots1 machinations1 brigues1 and contrivances of a society1 of which each member1 besides the gratification of his own passions1 has nothing at heart but the interest of his party1 right or wrong1 and to distress every faction that opposes it8 ,cleo4 ,these sentiments confirm to me what ,i have often heard1 that renegadoes are the most cruel enemies4 ,hor4 ,was ever ,i a ,roman ,catholic8 ,cleo4 ,i mean from the social system1 of which you have been the most strenuous assertor2 and now no man can judge of actions more severely1 and indeed less charitably1 than yourself1 especially of the poor cardinals4 ,i little thought1 if once ,i quitted the scheme of deformity1 to have found an adversary in you2 but we have both changed sides it seems4 ,hor4 ,much alike1 ,i believe4 ,cleo4 ,nay1 what could any body think to hear me making the kindest interpretations of things that can be imagined1 and yourself doing quite the reverse8 ,hor4 ,what ignorant people1 that knew neither of us1 might have done1 ,i do not know3 but it has been very manifest from our discourse1 that you have maintained your cause1 by endeavouring to show the absurdity of the contrary side1 and that ,i have defended mine by letting you see1 that we were not such fools as you would represent us to be4 ,i had taken a resolution never to engage with you on this topic1 but you see ,i have broke it3 ,i hate to be thought uncivil2 it was mere complaisance drew me in2 though ,i am not sorry that we talked of it so much as we did1 because ,i found your opinion less dangerous than #a imagined3 you have owned the existence of virtue1 and that there are men who act from it as a principle1 both which ,i thought you denied3 but ,i would not have you flatter yourself that you deceived me1 by hanging out false colours4 ,cleo4 ,i did not lay on the disguise so thick1 as not to have you see through it1 nor would ,i ever have discoursed upon this subject with any body1 who could have been so easily imposed upon4 ,i know you to be a man of very good sense and sound judgment2 and it is for that very reason ,i so heartily wish you would suffer me to explain myself1 and demonstrate to you1 how small the difference is between us1 which you imagine to be so considerable3 ,there is not a man in the world1 in whose opinion ,i would less pass for an ill man than in yours2 but ,i am so scrupulously fearful of offending you1 that ,i never dared to touch upon some points1 unless you had given me leave4 ,yield something to our friendship1 and condescend for once to read the ,fable of the ,bees for my sake3 ,it is a handsome volume3 you love books3 ,i have one extremely well bound2 do2 let me1 suffer me to make you a present of it4 ,hor4 ,i am no bigot1 ,cleomenes2 but ,i am a man of honour1 and1 you know1 of strict honour3 ,i cannot endure to hear that ridiculed1 and the least attempt of it chafes my blood3 ,honour is the strongest and noblest tie of society by far1 and therefore1 believe me1 can never be innocently sported with4 ,it is a thing so solid and awful1 as well as serious1 that it can at no time become the object of mirth or diversion2 and it is impossible for any pleasantry to be so ingenious1 or any jest so witty1 that ,i could bear with it on that head4 ,perhaps ,i am singular in this1 and1 if you will1 in the wrong2 be that as it will1 all ,i can say is1 ,je ne'entens pas ,raillerie la dessus2 and therefore1 no ,fable of the ,bees for me1 if we are to remain friends3 ,i have heard enough of that4 ,cleo4 ,pray1 ,horatio1 can there be honour without justice8 ,hor4 ,no3 ,who affirms there can8 ,cleo4 ,have you not owned1 that you have thought worse of me1 than now you find me to deserve8 ,no men1 nor their works1 ought to be condemned upon hearsays and bare surmises1 much less upon the accusations of their enemies1 without being examined into4 ,hor4 ,there you are in the right3 ,i heartily beg your pardon1 and to atone for the wrong ,i have done you1 say what you please1 ,i will hear it with patience1 be it never so shocking2 but ,i beg of you be serious4 ,cleo4 ,i have nothing to say to you that is distasteful1 much less shocking3 all ,i desire is1 to convince you1 that ,i am neither so ill-natured nor uncharitable1 in my opinion of mankind1 as you take me to be3 and that the notions ,i entertain of the worth of things1 will not differ much from yours1 when both come to be looked into4 ,do but consider what we have been doing3 ,i have endeavoured to set every thing in the handsomest light ,i could think of2 you say1 to ridicule the social system2 ,i own it2 now reflect on your own conduct1 which has been to show the folly of my strained panegyrics1 and replace things in that natural view1 which all just1 knowing men would certainly behold them in4 ,this is very well done3 but it is contrary to the scheme you pretended to maintain2 and if you judge of all actions in the same manner1 there is an end of the social system2 or1 at least1 it will be evident1 that it is a theory never to be put into practice4 ,you argue for the generality of men1 that they are possessed of these virtues1 but when we come to particulars1 you can find none4 ,i have tried you every where3 you are as little satisfied with persons of the highest rank1 as you are with them of the lowest1 and you count it ridiculous to think better of the middling people4 ,is this otherwise than standing up for the goodness of a design1 at the same time you confess1 that it never was1 or ever can be executed8 ,what sort of people are they1 and where must we look for them1 whom you will own to act from those principles of virtue8 ,hor4 ,are there not in all countries men of birth and ample fortune1 that would not accept of places1 though they were offered1 that are generous and beneficent1 and mind nothing but what is great and noble8 ,cleo4 ,yes3 ,but examine their conduct1 look into their lives1 and scan their actions with as little indulgence as you did those of the cardinals1 or the lawyers and physicians1 and then see what figure their virtues will make beyond those of the poor industrious woman4 ,there is1 generally speaking1 less truth in panegyrics1 than there is in satires4 ,when all our senses are soothed1 when we have no distemper of body or mind to disturb us1 and meet with nothing that is disagreeable1 we are pleased with our being3 it is in this situation that we are most apt to mistake outward appearances for realities1 and judge of things more favourably than they deserve4 ,remember1 ,horatio1 how feelingly you spoke half an hour ago in commendation of operas3 ,your soul seemed to be lifted up whilst you was thinking on the many charms you find in them4 ,i have nothing to say against the elegancy of the diversion1 or the politeness of those that frequent them3 but ,i am afraid you lost yourself in the contemplation of the lovely idea1 when you asserted that they were the most proper means to contract a strong and lasting habit of virtue2 do you think1 that among the same number of people1 there is more real virtue at an opera1 than there is at a bear-garden8 ,hor4 ,what a comparison6 ,cleo4 ,i am very serious4 ,hor4 ,the noise of dogs1 and bulls1 and bears1 make a fine harmony6 ,cleo4 ,it is impossible you should mistake me1 and you know very well1 that it is not the different pleasures of those two places ,i would compare together4 ,the things you mentioned are the least to be complained of3 the continual sounds of oaths and imprecations1 the frequent repetitions of the word lie1 and other more filthy expressions1 the loudness and dissonance of many strained and untuneful voices1 are a perfect torment to a delicate ear4 ,the frowsiness of the place1 and the ill scents of different kinds1 are a perpetual nuisance2 but in all mob meetings---- ,hor4 ,l'odorat souffre beaucoup4 ,cleo4 ,the entertainment in general is abominable1 and all the senses suffer4 ,i allow all this4 ,the greasy heads1 some of them bloody1 the jarring looks1 and threatening1 wild1 and horrid aspects1 that one meets with in those ever-restless assemblies1 must be very shocking to the sight1 and so indeed is every thing else that can be seen among a rude and ragged multitude1 that are covered with dirt1 and have in none of their pastimes one action that is inoffensive3 but1 after all1 vice and what is criminal1 are not to be confounded with roughness and want of manners1 no more than politeness and an artful behaviour ought to be with virtue or religion4 ,to tell a premeditated falsehood in order to do mischief1 is a greater sin1 than to give a man the lie1 who speaks an untruth2 and it is possible1 that a person may suffer greater damage1 and more injury to his ruin1 from slander in the low whisper of a secret enemy1 than he could have received from all the dreadful swearing and cursing1 the most noisy antagonist could pelt him with4 ,incontinence1 and adultery itself1 persons of quality are not more free from all over ,christendom1 than the meaner people3 but if there are some vices1 which the vulgar are more guilty of than the better sort1 there are others the reverse4 ,envy1 detraction1 and the spirit of revenge1 are more raging and mischievous in courts than they are in cottages4 ,excess of vanity and hurtful ambition are unknown among the poor2 they are seldom tainted with avarice1 with irreligion never2 and they have much less opportunity of robbing the public than their betters4 ,there are few persons of distinction1 whom you are not acquainted with3 ,i desire1 you would seriously reflect on the lives of as many as you can think of1 and next opera night on the virtues of the assembly4 ,hor4 ,you make me laugh4 ,there is a good deal in what you say2 and ,i am persuaded1 all is not gold that glisters4 ,would you add any more8 ,cleo4 ,since you have given me leave to talk1 and you are such a patient hearer1 ,i would not slip the opportunity of laying before you some things of high concern1 that perhaps you never considered in the light1 which you shall own yourself they ought to be seen in4 ,hor4 ,i am sorry to leave you2 but ,i have really business that must be done to-night3 it is about my law-suit1 and ,i have stayed beyond my time already3 but if you will come and eat a bit of mutton with me to-morrow1 ,i will see nobody but yourself1 and we will converse as long as you please4 ,cleo4 ,with all my heart4 ,i will not fail to wait on you4 ,,the ,,second ,,dialogue ,,between ,,horatio ,,and ,,cleomenes ,,horatio4 ,the discourse we had yesterday1 has made a great impression upon me2 you said several things that were very entertaining1 and some which ,i shall not easily forget3 ,i do not remember ,i ever looked into myself so much as ,i have done since last night after ,i left you4 ,cleo4 ,to do that faithfully1 is a more difficult and a severer talk than is commonly imagined4 ,when1 yesterday1 ,i asked you where and among what sort of people we were to look for those whom you would allow to act from principles of virtue1 you named a class1 among whom ,i have found very agreeable characters of men1 that yet all have their failings4 ,if these could be left out1 and the best were picked and culled from the different good qualities that are to be seen in several1 the compound would make a very handsome picture4 ,hor4 ,to finish it well every way would be a great masterpiece4 ,cleo4 ,that ,i shall not attempt3 but ,i do not think it would be very difficult to make a little sketch of it1 that yet should exceed nature1 and be a better pattern for imitation than any can be shown alive4 ,i have a mind to try2 the very thought enlivens me4 ,how charming is the portrait of a complete gentleman1 and how ravishing is the figure which a person of great birth and fortune1 to whom nature has been no niggard1 makes1 when he understands the world1 and is thoroughly well-bred6 ,hor4 ,i think them so1 ,i can assure you1 whether you are in jest or in earnest4 ,cleo4 ,how entirely well hid are his greatest imperfections6 though money is his idol1 and he is covetous in his heart1 yet his inward avarice is forced to give way to his outward liberality1 and an open generosity shines through all his actions4 ,hor4 ,there lies your fault3 it is this ,i cannot endure in you4 ,cleo4 ,what is the matter8 ,hor4 ,i know what you are about1 you are going to give me the caricatura of a gentleman1 under pretence of drawing his portrait4 ,cleo4 ,you wrong me1 ,i have no such thought4 ,hor4 ,but why is it impossible for human nature ever to be good8 instead of leaving out1 you put in failings without the least grounds or colour4 ,when things have a handsome appearance every way1 what reason have you to suspect them still to be bad8 ,how came you to know1 and which way have you discovered imperfections that are entirely well hid2 and why should you suppose a person to be covetous in his heart1 and that money is his idol1 when you own yourself that he never shews it1 and that an open generosity shines through all his actions8 ,this is monstrous4 ,cleo4 ,i have made no such supposition of any man1 and ,i protest to you1 that1 in what ,i said1 ,i had no other meaning than to observe1 that whatever frailties and natural infirmities persons might be conscious of within1 good sense and good manners were capable1 and1 without any other assistance1 sufficient to keep them out of sight3 but your questions are very reasonable1 and since you have started this1 ,i will be very open to you1 and acquaint you before hand with my design of the description ,i am going to make2 and the use ,i intend it for2 which in short is1 to demonstrate to you1 that a most beautiful superstructure may be raised upon a rotten and despicable foundation4 ,you will understand me better presently4 ,hor4 ,but how do you know a foundation to be rotten that supports the building1 and is wholly concealed from you8 ,cleo4 ,have patience1 and ,i promise you1 that ,i shall take nothing for granted1 which you shall not allow of yourself4 ,hor4 ,stick close to that1 and ,i desire no more3 now say what you will4 ,cleo4 ,the true object of pride or vain glory is the opinion of others2 and the most superlative wish1 which a man possessed1 and entirely filled with it can make1 is1 that he may be well thought of1 applauded1 and admired by the whole world1 not only in the present but all future ages4 ,this passion is generally exploded2 but it is incredible1 how many strange and widely different miracles are1 and may be performed by the force of it2 as persons differ in circumstances and inclinations4 ,in the first place1 there is no danger so great1 but by the help of his pride a man may slight and confront it2 nor any manner of death so terrible1 but with the same assistance he may court1 and if he has a firm constitution1 undergo it with alacrity4 ,in the second1 there are no good offices or duties1 either to others or ourselves1 that ,cicero has spoke of1 nor any instance of benevolence1 humanity1 or other social virtue1 that ,lord ,shaftsbury has hinted at1 but a man of good sense and knowledge may learn to practise them from no better principle than vain glory1 if it be strong enough to subdue and keep under all other passions that may thwart and interfere with his design4 ,hor4 ,shall ,i allow all this8 ,cleo4 ,yes4 ,hor4 ,when8 ,cleo4 ,before we part4 ,hor4 ,very well4 ,cleo4 ,men of tolerable parts in plentiful circumstances1 that were artfully educated1 and are not singular in their temper1 can hardly fail of a genteel behaviour3 the more pride they have1 and the greater value they set on the esteem of others1 the more they will make it their study to render themselves acceptable to all they converse with2 and they will take uncommon pains to conceal and stifle in their bosoms1 every thing which their good sense tells them ought not to be seen or understood4 ,hor4 ,i must interrupt you1 and cannot suffer you to go on thus4 ,what is all this but the old story over again1 that every thing is pride1 and all we see hypocrisy1 without proof or argument8 ,nothing in the world is more false than what you have advanced now2 for1 according to that1 the most noble1 the most gallant1 and the best bred man would be the proudest2 which is so clashing with daily experience1 that the very reverse is true4 ,pride and insolence are no where more common than among upstarts2 men of no family1 that raise estates out of nothing1 and the most ordinary people1 that having had no education1 are puffed up with their fortune whenever they are lifted up above mediocrity1 and from mean stations advanced to posts of honour3 whereas1 no men upon earth1 generally speaking1 are more courteous1 humane1 or polite1 than persons of high birth1 that enjoy the large possessions and known seats of their ancestors2 men illustrious by descent1 that have been used to grandeur and titles of honour from their infancy1 and received an education suitable to their quality4 ,i do not believe there ever was a nation1 that were not savages1 in which the youth of both sexes were not expressly taught never to be proud or haughty3 did you ever know a school1 a tutor1 or a parent1 that did not continually inculcate to those under their care to be civil and obliging2 nay1 does not the word mannerly itself import as much8 ,cleo4 ,i beg of you1 let us be calm1 and speak with exactness4 ,the doctrine of good manners furnishes us with a thousand lessons1 against the various appearances and outward symptoms of pride1 but it has not one precept against the passion itself4 ,hor4 ,how is that8 ,cleo4 ,no1 not one against the passion itself2 the conquest of it is never attempted1 nor talked of in a gentleman's education1 where men are to be continually inspired and kept warm with the sense of their honour1 and the inward value they must put upon themselves on all emergencies4 ,hor4 ,this is worth consideration1 and requires time to be examined into2 but where is your fine gentleman1 the picture you promised8 ,cleo4 ,i am ready1 and shall begin with his dwelling3 ,though he has several noble seats in different countries1 yet ,i shall only take notice of his chief mansion-house that bears the name1 and does the honours of the family3 this is amply magnificent1 and yet1 commodious to admiration4 ,his gardens are very extensive1 and contain an infinite variety of pleasing objects3 they are divided into many branches for divers purposes1 and every where filled with improvements of art upon nature2 yet a beautiful order and happy contrivance are conspicuous through every part2 and though nothing is omitted to render them stately and delightful2 the whole is laid out to the best advantage4 ,within doors1 every thing bespeaks the grandeur and judgment of the master2 and as no cost is spared any where to procure beauty or conveniency1 so you see none impertinently lavished4 ,all his plate and furniture are completely fine1 and you see nothing but what is fashionable4 ,he has no pictures but of the most eminent hands3 the rarities he shows are really such2 he hoards up no trifles1 nor offers any thing to your sight that is shocking3 but the several collections he has of this sort1 are agreeable as well as extraordinary1 and rather valuable than large3 but curiosities and wealth are not confined to his cabinet2 the marble and sculpture that are displayed up and down are a treasure themselves2 and there is abundance of admirable gilding and excellent carving to be seen in many places4 ,what has been laid out on the great hall1 and one gallery1 would be a considerable estate2 and there is a salloon and a stair-case not inferior to either2 these are all very spacious and lofty2 the architecture of them is of the best taste1 and the decorations surprising4 ,throughout the whole there appears a delicate mixture and astonishing variety of lively embellishments1 the splendour of which1 joined to a perfect cleanliness1 no where neglected1 are highly entertaining to the most careless and least observing eye2 whilst the exactness of the workmanship bestowed on every part of the meanest utensil1 gives a more solid satisfaction1 and is ravishing to the curious4 ,but the greatest excellency in this model of perfection is this2 that as in the most ordinary rooms there is nothing wanting for their purpose1 and the least passage is handsomely finished2 so in those of the greatest eclat there is nothing overcharged1 nor any part of them encumbered with ornaments4 ,hor4 ,this is a studied piece2 but ,i do not like it the worse for it1 pray go on4 ,cleo4 ,i have thought of it before1 ,i own4 ,his equipage is rich and well chosen1 and there is nothing to be seen about him that art or expence1 within the compass of reason1 could make better4 ,at his own table his looks are ever jovial2 and his heart seems to be as open as his countenance4 ,his chief business there is to take care of others1 without being troublesome2 and all his happiness seems to consist in being able to please his friends3 in his greatest mirth1 he is wanting in respect to no man2 and never makes use of abbreviations in names1 or unhandsome familiarities with the meanest of his guests4 ,to every one that speaks to him1 he gives an obliging attention1 and seems never to disregard any thing but what is said in commendation of his fare3 he never interrupts any discourse but what is made in his praise1 and seldom assents to any encomiums1 though the most equitable that are made on any thing that is his4 ,when he is abroad he never spies faults2 and whatever is amiss1 he either says nothing1 or1 in answer to the complaints and uneasiness of others1 gives every thing the best-natured turn it can bear2 but he seldom leaves a house before he finds out something to extol in it1 without wronging his judgment4 ,his conversation is always facetious and good-humoured1 but as solid as it is diverting4 ,he never utters a syllable that has the least tincture of obscenity or profaneness2 nor ever made a jest that was offensive4 ,hor4 ,very fine6 ,cleo4 ,he seems to be entirely free from bigotry and superstition1 avoids all disputes about religion2 but goes constantly to church1 and is seldom absent from his family devotions4 ,hor4 ,a very godly gentleman6 ,cleo4 ,i expected we should differ there4 ,hor4 ,i do not find fault4 ,proceed1 pray4 ,cleo4 ,as he is a man of erudition himself1 so he is a promoter of arts and sciences2 he is a friend to merit1 a rewarder of industry1 and a professed enemy to nothing but immorality and oppression4 ,though no man's table is better furnished1 nor cellars better stored2 he is temperate in his eating1 and never commits excess in drinking3 though he has an exquisite palate1 he always prefers wholesome meats to those that are delicious only1 and never indulges his appetite in any thing that might probably be prejudicial to his health4 ,hor4 ,admirably good6 ,cleo4 ,as he is in all other things1 so he is elegant in his clothes1 and has often new ones3 neatness he prefers to finery in his own dress2 but his retinue is rich4 ,he seldom wears gold or silver himself1 but on very solemn occasions1 in compliment to others2 and to demonstrate that these pompous habits are made for no other purpose1 he is never seen twice in the same2 but having appeared in them one day1 he gives them away the next4 ,though of every thing he has the best of the sort1 and might be called curious in apparel2 yet he leaves the care of it to others2 and no man has his clothes put on better that seem so little to regard them4 ,hor4 ,perfectly right2 to be well dressed is a necessary article1 and yet to be solicitous about it is below a person of quality4 ,cleo4 ,therefore he has a domestic of good taste1 a judicious man1 who saves him that trouble2 and the management likewise of his lace and linen1 is the province of a skilful woman4 ,his language is courtly1 but natural and intelligible2 it is neither low nor bombastic1 and ever free from pedantic and vulgar expressions4 ,all his motions are genteel without affectation2 his mien is rather sedate than airy1 and his manner noble3 for though he is ever civil and condescending1 and no man less arrogant1 yet in all his carriage there is something gracefully majestic2 and as there is nothing mean in his humility1 so his loftiness has nothing disobliging4 ,hor4 ,prodigiously good6 ,cleo4 ,he is charitable to the poor2 his house is never shut to strangers2 and all his neighbours he counts to be his friends4 ,he is a father to his tenants2 and looks upon their welfare as inseparable from his interest4 ,no man is less uneasy at little offences1 or more ready to forgive all trespasses without design4 ,the injuries that are suffered from other landlords1 he turns into benefits2 and whatever damages1 great or small1 are sustained on his account1 either from his diversions or otherwise1 he doubly makes good4 ,he takes care to be early informed of such losses1 and commonly repairs them before they are complained of4 ,hor4 ,oh rare humanity2 hearken ye foxhunters6 ,cleo4 ,he never chides any of his people2 yet no man is better served2 and though nothing is wanting in his housekeeping1 and his family is very numerous1 yet the regularity of it is no less remarkable than the plenty they live in4 ,his orders he will have strictly obeyed2 but his commands are always reasonable1 and he never speaks to the meanest footman without regard to humanity4 ,extraordinary diligence in servants1 and all laudable actions he takes notice of himself1 and often commends them to their faces2 but leaves it to his steward to reprove or dismiss those he dislikes4 ,hor4 ,well judged4 ,cleo4 ,whoever lives with him is taken care of in sickness as well as in health4 ,the wages he gives are above double those of other masters2 and he often makes presents to those that are more than ordinary observing and industrious to please3 but he suffers nobody to take a penny of his friends or others1 that come to his house1 on any account whatever4 ,many faults are connived at1 or pardoned for the first time1 but a breach of this order is ever attended with the loss of their places as soon as it is found out2 and there is a premium for the discovery4 ,hor4 ,this is the only exceptionable thing1 in my opinion1 that ,i have heard yet4 ,cleo4 ,i wonder at that3 why so1 pray8 ,hor4 ,in the first place1 it is very difficult to enforce obedience to such a command2 secondly1 if it could be executed1 it would be of little use2 unless it could be made general1 which is impossible3 and therefore ,i look upon the attempt of introducing this maxim to be singular and fantastical4 ,it would please misers and others1 that would never follow the example at home2 but it would take away from generous men a handsome opportunity of showing their liberal and beneficent disposition3 besides1 it would manifestly make ones house too open to all sorts of people4 ,cleo4 ,ways might be found to prevent that2 but then it would be a blessing1 and do great kindness to men of parts and education1 that have little to spare1 to many of whom this money to servants is a very grievous burden4 ,hor4 ,what you mention is the only thing that can be said for it1 and ,i own1 of great weight3 but ,i beg your pardon for interrupting you4 ,cleo4 ,in all his dealings he is punctual and just4 ,as he has an immense estate1 so he has good managers to take care of it3 but though all his accounts are very neatly kept1 yet he makes it part of his business to look them over himself4 ,he suffers no tradesman's bill to lie by unexamined2 and though he meddles not with his ready cash himself1 yet he is a quick and cheerful1 as well as an exact paymaster2 and the only singularity he is guilty of1 is1 that he never will owe any thing on a new-year's day4 ,hor4 ,i like that very well4 ,cleo4 ,he is affable with discretion1 of easy access1 and never ruffled with passion4 ,to sum up all1 no man seems to be less elevated with his condition than himself2 and in the full enjoyment of so many personal accomplishments1 as well as other possessions1 his modesty is equal to the rest of his happiness2 and in the midst of the pomp and distinction he lives in1 he never appears to be entertained with his greatness1 but rather unacquainted with the things he excels in4 ,hor4 ,it is an admirable character1 and pleases me exceedingly2 but ,i will freely own to you1 that ,i should have been more highly delighted with the description1 if ,i had not known your design1 and the use you intend to make of it2 which1 ,i think1 is barbarous3 to raise so fine1 so elegant1 and so complete an edifice1 in order to throw it down1 is taking great pains to show one's skill in doing mischief4 ,i have observed the several places where you left room for evasions1 and lapping the foundation you have built upon4 ,his heart seems to be as open2 and he never appears to be entertained with his greatness1 ,i am persuaded1 that wherever you have put in this seeming and appearing1 you have done it designedly1 and with an intent to make use of them as so many back doors to creep out at4 ,i could never have taken notice of these things1 if you had not acquainted me with your intention before hand4 ,cleo4 ,i have made use of the caution you speak of3 but with no other view than to avoid just censure and prevent your accusing me of incorrectness1 or judging with too much precipitation2 if it should be proved afterwards1 that this gentleman had acted from an ill principle1 which is the thing ,i own ,i purposed to convince you of2 but seeing1 that it would be unpleasant to you1 ,i will be satisfied with having given you some small entertainment of the description1 and for the rest1 ,i give you leave to think me in the wrong4 ,hor4 ,why so8 ,i thought the character was made and contrived on purpose for my instruction4 ,cleo4 ,i do not pretend to instruct you3 ,i would have offered something1 and appealed to your judgment2 but ,i have been mistaken1 and plainly see my error4 ,both last night and now1 when we began our discourse1 ,i took you to be in another disposition of thinking than ,i perceive you are4 ,you spoke of an impression that had been made upon you1 and of looking into yourself1 and gave some other hints1 which too rashly ,i misconstrued in my favour2 but ,i have found since1 that you are as warm as ever against the sentiments ,i profess myself to be of2 and therefore ,i will desist4 ,i expect no pleasure from any triumph1 and ,i know nothing that would vex me more1 than the thoughts of disobliging you4 ,pray let us do in this as we do in another matter of importance1 never touch upon it3 friends in prudence should avoid all subjects in which they are known essentially to differ4 ,believe me1 ,horatio1 if it was in my power to divert or give you any pleasure1 ,i would grudge no pains to compass that end3 but to make you uneasy1 is a thing that ,i shall never be knowingly guilty of1 and ,i beg a thousand pardons for having said so much both yesterday and to-day4 ,have you heard any thing from ,gibraltar8 ,hor4 ,i am ashamed of my weakness and your civility3 you have not been mistaken in the hints you speak of2 what you have said has certainly made a great impression upon me1 and ,i have endeavoured to examine myself3 but1 as you say1 it is a severe task to do it faithfully4 ,i desired you to dine with me on purpose1 that we might talk of these things4 ,it is ,i that have offended1 and it is ,i that ought to ask pardon for the ill manners ,i have been guilty of2 but you know the principles ,i have always adhered to2 it is impossible to recede from them at once4 ,i see great difficulties1 and now and then a glimpse of truth1 that makes me start3 ,i sometimes feel great struggles within2 but ,i have been so used to derive all actions that are really good from laudable motives1 that as soon as ,i return to my accustomed way of thinking1 it carries all before it4 ,pray bear with my infirmities4 ,i am in love with your fine gentleman1 and ,i confess1 ,i cannot see how a person so universally good1 so far remote from all selfishness1 can act in such an extraordinary manner every way1 but from principles of virtue and religion4 ,where is there such a landlord in the world8 ,if ,i am in an error1 ,i shall be glad to be undeceived4 ,pray inform me1 and say what you will1 ,i promise you to keep my temper1 and ,i beg of you speak your mind with freedom4 ,cleo4 ,you have bid me before say what ,i would1 and when ,i did1 you seemed displeased2 but since you command me ,i will try once more4----,whether there is or ever was such a man as ,i have described1 in the world1 is not very material3 but ,i will easily allow1 that most people would think it less difficult to conceive one1 than to imagine that such a clear and beautiful stream could flow from so mean and muddy a spring1 as an excessive thirst after praise1 and an immoderate desire of general applause from the most knowing judges2 yet it is certain1 that great parts and extraordinary riches may compass all this in a man1 who is not deformed1 and has had a refined education2 and that there are many persons naturally no better than a thousand others1 who by the helps mentioned1 might attain to those good qualities and accomplishments1 if they had but resolution and perseverance enough1 to render every appetite and every faculty subservient to that one predominant passion1 which1 if continually gratified1 will always enable them to govern1 and1 if required1 to subdue all the rest without exception1 even in the most difficult cases4 ,hor4 ,to enter into an argument concerning the possibility of what you say1 might occasion a long dispute2 but the probability1 ,i think1 is very clear against you1 and if there was such a man1 it would be much more credible1 that he acted from the excellency of his nature1 in which so many virtues and rare endowments were assembled1 than that all his good qualities sprung from vicious motives4 ,if pride could be the cause of all this1 the effect of it would sometimes appear in others4 ,according to your system1 there is no scarcity of it1 and there are men of great parts and prodigious estates all over ,europe3 why are there not several such patterns to be seen up and down1 as you have drawn as one2 and why is it so very seldom1 that many virtues and good qualities are seen to meet in one individual8 ,cleo4 ,why so few persons1 though there are so many men of immense fortune1 ever arrive at any thing like this high pitch of accomplishments2 there are several reasons that are very obvious4 ,in the first place1 men differ in temperament3 some are naturally of an active1 stirring2 others of an indolent1 quiet disposition2 some of a bold1 others of a meek spirit4 ,in the second1 it is to be considered1 that this temperament in men come to maturity is more or less conspicuous1 according as it has been either checked or encouraged by education4 ,thirdly1 that on these two depend the different perception men have of happiness1 according to which the love of glory determines them different ways4 ,some think it the greatest felicity to govern and rule over others3 some take the praise of bravery and undauntedness in dangers to be the most valuable3 others1 erudition1 and to be a celebrated author3 so that1 though they all love glory1 they set out differently to acquire it4 ,but a man who hates a bustle1 and is naturally of a quiet easy temper1 and which has been encouraged in him by education1 it is very likely might think nothing more desirable than the character of a fine gentleman2 and if he did1 ,i dare say that he would endeavour to behave himself pretty near the pattern ,i have given you2 ,i say pretty near1 because ,i may have been mistaken in some things1 and as ,i have not touched upon every thing1 some will say1 that ,i have left out several necessary ones3 but in the main ,i believe1 that in the country and age we live in1 the qualifications ,i have named would get a man the reputation ,i have supposed him to desire4 ,hor4 ,without doubt1 ,i make no manner of scruple about what you said last2 and ,i told you before that it was an admirable character1 and pleased me exceedingly4 ,that ,i took notice of your making your gentleman so very godly as you did1 was because it is not common2 but ,i intended it not as a reflection4 ,one thing1 indeed1 there was in which ,i differed from you2 but that was merely speculative2 and1 since ,i have reflected on what you have answered me1 ,i do not know but ,i may be in the wrong1 as ,i should certainly believe myself to be1 if there really was such a man1 and he was of the contrary opinion3 to such a fine genius ,i would pay an uncommon deference1 and with great readiness submit my understanding to his superior capacity4 ,but the reasons you give why those effects which you ascribe to pride1 are not more common1 the cause being so universal1 ,i think are insufficient4 ,that men are prompted to follow different ends1 as their inclinations differ1 ,i can easily allow2 but there are great numbers of rich men that are likewise of a quiet and indolent disposition1 and moreover very desirous of being thought fine gentlemen4 ,how comes it1 that among so many persons of high birth1 princely estates1 and the most refined education1 as there are in ,christendom1 that study1 travel1 and take great pains to be well accomplished1 there is not one1 to whom all the good qualities1 and every thing you named1 could be applied without flattery8 ,cleo4 ,it is very possible that thousands may aim at this1 and not one of them succeed to that degree3 in some1 perhaps the predominant passion is not strong enough entirely to subdue the rest3 love or covetousness may divert others3 drinking1 gaming1 may draw away many1 and break in upon their resolution2 they may not have strength to persevere in a design1 and steadily to pursue the same ends2 or they may want a true taste or knowledge of what is esteemed by men of judgment2 or1 lastly1 they may not be so thoroughly well-bred1 as is required to conceal themselves on all emergencies3 for the practical part of dissimulation is infinitely more difficult than the theory3 and any one of these obstacles is sufficient to spoil all1 and hinder the finishing of such a piece4 ,hor4 ,i shall not dispute that with you3 but all this while you have proved nothing2 nor given the least reason why you should imagine1 that a man of a character1 to all outward appearance so bright and beautiful1 acted from vicious motives4 ,you would not condemn him without so much as naming the cause why you suspect him4 ,cleo4 ,by no means2 nor have ,i advanced any thing that is ill natured or uncharitable3 for ,i have not said1 that if ,i found a gentleman in possession of all the things ,i mentioned1 ,i would give his rare endowments this turn1 and think all his perfections derived from no better stock1 than an extraordinary love of glory4 ,what ,i argue for1 and insist upon1 is1 the possibility that all these things might be performed by a man from no other views1 and with no other helps1 than those ,i have named3 nay1 ,i believe moreover1 that a gentleman so accomplished1 all his knowledge and great parts notwithstanding1 may himself be ignorant1 or at least not well assured of the motive he acts from4 ,hor4 ,this is more unintelligible than any thing you have said yet2 why will you heap difficulties upon one another1 without solving any8 ,i desire you would clear up this last paradox1 before you do any thing else4 ,cleo4 ,in order to obey you1 ,i must put you in mind of what happens in early education1 by the first rudiments of which1 infants are taught in the choice of actions to prefer the precepts of others to the dictates of their own inclinations2 which1 in short1 is no more than doing as they are bid4 ,to gain this point1 punishments and rewards are not neglected1 and many different methods are made use of2 but it is certain1 that nothing proves more often effectual for this purpose1 or has a greater influence upon children1 than the handle that is made of shame2 which1 though a natural passion1 they would not be sensible of so soon1 if we did not artfully rouse and stir it up in them1 before they can speak or go3 by which means1 their judgment being then weak1 we may teach them to be ashamed of what we please1 as soon as we can perceive them to be any ways affected with the passion itself3 but as the fear of shame is very insignificant1 where there is but little pride1 so it is impossible to augment the first1 without increasing the latter in the same proportion4 ,hor4 ,i should have thought that this increase of pride would render children more stubborn and less docile4 ,cleo4 ,you judge right2 it would so1 and must have been a great hinderance to good manners1 till experience taught men1 that though pride was not to be destroyed by force1 it might be governed by stratagem1 and that the best way to manage it1 is by playing the passion against itself4 ,hence it is1 that in an artful education1 we are allowed to place as much pride as we please in our dexterity of concealing it4 ,i do not suppose1 that this covering ourselves1 notwithstanding the pride we take in it1 is performed without a difficulty that is plainly felt1 and perhaps very unpleasant at first2 but this wears off as we grow up2 and when a man has behaved himself with so much prudence as ,i have described1 lived up to the strictest rules of good-breeding for many years1 and has gained the esteem of all that know him1 when this noble and polite manner is become habitual to him1 it is possible he may in time forget the principle he set out with1 and become ignorant1 or at least insensible of the hidden spring that gives life and motion to all his actions4 ,hor4 ,i am convinced of the great use that may be made of pride1 if you will call it so2 but ,i am not satisfied yet1 how a man of so much sense1 knowledge1 and penetration1 one that understands himself so entirely well1 should be ignorant of his own heart1 and the motives he acts from4 ,what is it that induces you to believe this1 besides the possibility of his forgetfulness8 ,cleo4 ,i have two reasons for it1 which ,i desire may be seriously considered4 ,the first is1 that in what relates to ourselves1 especially our own worth and excellency1 pride blinds the understanding in men of sense and great parts as well as in others1 and the greater value we may reasonably set upon ourselves1 the fitter we are to swallow the grossest flatteries1 in spite of all our knowledge and abilities in other matters3 witness ,alexander the ,great1 whose vast genius could not hinder him from doubting seriously1 whether he was a god or not4 ,my second reason will prove to us1 that if the person in question was capable of examining himself1 it is yet highly improbable1 that he would ever set about it3 for1 it must be granted1 that1 in order to search into ourselves1 it is required we should be willing as well as able2 and we have all the reason in the world to think1 that there is nothing which a very proud man of such high qualifications would avoid more carefully than such an inquiry3 because1 for all other acts of self-denial1 he is repaid in his darling passion2 but this alone is really mortifying1 and the only sacrifice of his quiet for which he can have no equivalent4 ,if the hearts of the best and sincerest men are corrupt and deceitful1 what condition must theirs be in1 whose whole life is one continued scene of hypocrisy6 therefore inquiring within1 and boldly searching into ones own bosom1 must be the most shocking employment1 that a man can give his mind to1 whose greatest pleasure consists in secretly admiring himself4 ,it would be ill manners1 after this1 to appeal to yourself2 but the severity of the task---- ,hor4 ,say no more1 ,i yield this point1 though ,i own ,i cannot conceive what advantage you can expect from it3 for1 instead of removing1 it will rather help to increase the grand difficulty1 which is to prove1 that this complete person you have described1 acts from a vicious motive3 and if that be not your design1 ,i cannot see what you drive at4 ,cleo4 ,i told you it was4 ,hor4 ,you must have a prodigious sagacity in detecting abstruse matters before other men4 ,cleo4 ,you wonder1 ,i know1 which way ,i arrogate to myself such a superlative degree of penetration1 as to know an artful cunning man better than he does himself1 and how ,i dare pretend to enter and look into a heart1 which ,i have owned to be completely well concealed from all the world2 which in strictness is an impossibility1 and consequently not to be bragged of but by a coxcomb4 ,hor4 ,you may treat yourself as you please1 ,i have said no such thing2 but ,i own that ,i long to see it proved1 that you have this capacity4 ,i remember the character very well3 ,notwithstanding the precautions you have taken1 it is very full3 ,i told you before1 that where things have a handsome appearance every way1 there can be no just cause to suspect them4 ,i will stick close to that2 your gentleman is all of a piece3 ,you shall alter nothing1 either by retracting any of the good qualities you have given him1 or making additions that are either clashing with1 or unsuitable to what you have allowed already4 ,cleo4 ,i shall attempt neither3 ,and without that decisive trials may be made1 by which it will plainly appear whether a person acts from inward goodness1 and a principle of religion1 or only from a motive of vain glory2 and1 in the latter case1 there is an infallible way of dragging the lurking fiend from his darkest recesses into a glaring light1 where all the world shall know him4 ,hor4 ,i do not think myself a match for you in argument2 but ,i have a great mind to be your gentleman's advocate against all your infallibility3 ,i never liked a cause better in my life4 ,come1 ,i undertake to defend him in all the suppositions you can make that are reasonable and consistent with what you have said before4 ,cleo4 ,very well3 let us suppose what may happen to the most inoffensive1 the most prudent1 and best-bred man2 that our fine gentleman differs in opinion before company1 with another1 who is his equal in birth and quality1 but not so much master over his outward behaviour1 and less guarded in his conduct2 let this adversary1 mal propos1 grow warm1 and seem to be wanting in the respect that is due to the other1 and reflect on his honour in ambiguous terms4 ,what is your client to do8 ,hor4 ,immediately to ask for an explanation4 ,cleo4 ,which1 if the hot man disregards with scorn1 or flatly refuses to give1 satisfaction must be demanded1 and tilt they must4 ,hor4 ,you are too hasty3 it happened before company2 in such cases1 friends1 or any gentlemen present1 should interpose and take care1 that if threatening words ensue1 they are1 by the civil authority1 both put under arrest2 and before they came to uncourteous language1 they ought to have been parted by friendly force1 if it were possible4 ,after that1 overtures may be made of reconciliation with the nicest regard to the point of honour4 ,cleo4 ,i do not ask for directions to prevent a quarrel2 what you say may be done1 or it may not be done3 ,the good offices of friends may succeed1 and they may not succeed4 ,i am to make what suppositions ,i think fit within the verge of possibility1 so they are reasonable and consistent with the character ,i have drawn3 can we not suppose these two persons in such a situation that you yourself would advise your friend to send his adversary a challenge8 ,hor4 ,without doubt such a thing may happen4 ,cleo4 ,that is enough4 ,after that a duel must ensue1 in which1 without determining any thing1 the fine gentleman1 we will say1 behaves himself with the utmost gallantry4 ,hor4 ,to have suspected or supposed otherwise would have been unreasonable4 ,cleo4 ,you see1 therefore1 how fair ,i am4 ,but what is it1 pray1 that so suddenly disposes a courteous sweet-tempered man1 for so small an evil1 to seek a remedy of that extreme violence8 ,but above all1 what is it that buoys up and supports him against the fear of death8 for there lies the greatest difficulty4 ,hor4 ,his natural courage and intrepidity1 built on the innocence of his life1 and the rectitude of his manners4 ,cleo4 ,but what makes so just and prudent a man1 that has the good of society so much at heart1 act knowingly against the laws of his country8 ,hor4 ,the strict obedience he pays to the laws of honour1 which are superior to all others4 ,cleo4 ,if men of honour would act confidently1 they ought all to be ,roman ,catholics4 ,hor4 ,why1 pray8 ,cleo4 ,because they prefer oral tradition to all written laws3 for nobody can tell when1 in what king's or emperor's reign1 in what country1 or by what authority these laws of honour were first enacted3 it is very strange they should be of such force4 ,hor4 ,they are wrote and engraved in every ones breast that is a man of honour3 there is no denying of it2 you are conscious of it yourself2 every body feels it within4 ,cleo4 ,let them be wrote or engraved wherever you please1 they are directly opposite to and clashing with the laws of ,god2 and if the gentleman ,i described was as sincere in his religion as he appeared to be1 he must have been of an opinion contrary to yours2 for ,christians of all persuasions are unanimous in allowing the divine laws to be far above all other2 and that all other considerations ought to give way to them4 ,how1 and under what pretence can a ,christian1 who is a man of sense1 submit or agree to laws that prescribe revenge1 and countenance murder2 both which are so expressly forbid by the precepts of his religion8 ,hor4 ,i am no casuist3 but you know1 that what ,i say is true2 and that1 among persons of honour1 a man would be laughed at1 that should make such a scruple4 ,not but that ,i think killing a man to be a great sin1 where it can be helped2 and that all prudent men ought to avoid the occasion1 as much as it is in their power4 ,he is highly blameable who is the first aggressor1 and gives the affront2 and whoever enters upon it out of levity1 or seeks a quarrel out of wantonness1 ought to be hanged4 ,nobody would choose it1 who is not a fool2 and yet1 when it is forced upon one1 all the wisdom in the world cannot teach him how to avoid it4 ,it has been my case you know3 ,i shall never forget the reluctancy ,i had against it2 but necessity has no law4 ,cleo4 ,i saw you that very morning1 and you seemed to be sedate and void of passion3 you could have no concern4 ,hor4 ,it is silly to show any at such times2 but ,i know best what ,i felt2 the struggle ,i had within was unspeakable3 it is a terrible thing4 ,i would then have given a considerable part of my estate1 that the thing which forced me into it had not happened2 and yet1 upon less provocation1 ,i would act the same part again to-morrow4 ,cleo4 ,do you remember what your concern was chiefly about8 ,hor4 ,how can you ask8 ,it is an affair of the highest importance that can occur in life2 ,i was no boy2 it was after we came from ,italy2 ,i was in my nine and twentieth year1 had very good acquaintance1 and was not ill received3 a man of that age1 in health and vigour1 who has seven thousand a-year1 and the prospect of being a peer of ,england1 has no reason to quarrel with the world1 or wish himself out of it4 ,it is a very great hazard a man runs in a duel2 besides the remorse and uneasiness one must feel as long as he lives1 if he has the misfortune of killing his adversary4 ,it is impossible to reflect on all these things1 and at the same time resolve to run those hazards 7though there are other considerations of still greater moment71 without being under a prodigious concern4 ,cleo4 ,you say nothing about the sin4 ,hor4 ,the thoughts of that1 without doubt1 are a great addition2 but the other things are so weighty of themselves1 that a man's condition at such a time1 is very perplexed without further reflection4 ,cleo4 ,you have now a very fine opportunity1 ,horatio1 of looking into your heart1 and with a little of my assistance1 examining yourself4 ,if you can condescend to this1 ,i promise you that you shall make great discoveries1 and be convinced of truths you are now unwilling to believe4 ,a lover of justice and probity1 as you are1 ought not to be fond of a road of thinking1 where he is always forced to skulk1 and never dares to meet with light or reason4 ,will you suffer me to ask you some questions1 and will you answer them directly and in good humour8 ,hor4 ,i will1 without reserve4 ,cleo4 ,do you remember the storm upon the coast of ,genoa8 ,hor4 ,going to ,naples8 ,very well2 it makes me cold to think of it4 ,cleo4 ,was you afraid8 ,hor4 ,never more in my life3 ,i hate that fickle element2 ,i cannot endure the sea4 ,cleo4 ,what was you afraid of8 ,hor4 ,that is a pretty question3 do you think a young fellow of six-and-twenty1 as ,i was then1 and in my circumstances1 had a great mind to be drowned8 ,the captain himself said we were in danger4 ,cleo4 ,but neither he nor any body else discovered half so much fear and anxiety as you did4 ,hor4 ,there was nobody there1 yourself excepted1 that had half a quarter so much to lose as ,i had3 besides1 they are used to the sea2 storms are familiar to them4 ,i had never been at sea before1 but that fine afternoon we crossed from ,dover to ,calais4 ,cleo4 ,want of knowledge or experience may make men apprehend danger where there is none2 but real dangers1 when they are known to be such1 try the natural courage of all men2 whether they have been used to them or not3 sailors are as unwilling to lose their lives as other people4 ,hor4 ,i am not ashamed to own1 that ,i am a great coward at sea3 give me terra firma1 and then-- ,cleo4 ,six or seven months after you fought that duel1 ,i remember you had the small-pox2 you was then very much afraid of dying4 ,hor4 ,not without a cause4 ,cleo4 ,i heard your physicians say1 that the violent apprehension you was under1 hindered your sleep1 increased your fever1 and was as mischievous to you as the distemper itself4 ,hor4 ,that was a terrible time2 ,i am glad it is over3 ,i had a sister died of it4 ,before ,i had it1 ,i was in perpetual dread of it1 and many times to hear it named only has made me uneasy4 ,cleo4 ,natural courage is a general armour against the fear of death1 whatever shape that appears in1 ,si fractus illabatur erbis4 ,it supports a man in tempestuous seas1 and in a burning fever1 whilst he is in his senses1 as well as in a siege before a town1 or in a duel with seconds4 ,hor4 ,what6 you are going to show me1 that ,i have no courage4 ,cleo4 ,far from it2 it would be ridiculous to doubt a man's bravery1 that has shown it in such an extraordinary manner as you have done more than once3 what ,i question1 is the epithet you joined to it at first1 the word natural2 for there is a great difference between that and artificial courage4 ,hor4 ,that is a chicane ,i will not enter into3 but ,i am not of your opinion1 as to what you said before4 ,a gentleman is not required to show his bravery1 but where his honour is concerned2 and if he dares to fight for his king1 his friend1 his mistress1 and every thing where his reputation is engaged1 you shall think of him what you please for the rest4 ,besides1 that in sickness and other dangers1 as well as afflictions1 where the hand of ,god is plainly to be seen1 courage and intrepidity are impious as well as impertinent4 ,undauntedness in chastisements is a kind of rebellion3 it is waging war with ,heaven1 which none but atheists and freethinkers would be guilty of2 it is only they that can glory in impenitence1 and talk of dying hard4 ,all others that have any sense of religion1 desire to repent before they go out of the world3 the best of us do not always live1 as we could wish to die4 ,cleo4 ,i am very glad to hear you are so religious3 but do not you perceive yet1 how inconsistent you are with yourself3 how can a man sincerely wish to repent1 that wilfully plunges himself into a mortal sin1 and an action where he runs a greater and more immediate hazard of his life1 than he could have done in almost any other1 without force or necessity8 ,hor4 ,i have over and over owned to you that duelling is a sin2 and1 unless a man is forced to it by necessity1 ,i believe1 a mortal one3 but this was not my case1 and therefore ,i hope ,god will forgive me3 let them look to it that make a sport of it4 ,but when a man comes to an action with the utmost reluctancy1 and what he does is not possibly to be avoided1 ,i think he then may justly be said to be forced to it1 and to act from necessity4 ,you may blame the rigorous laws of honour1 and the tyranny of custom1 but a man that will live in the world must1 and is bound to obey them4 ,would not you do it yourself8 ,cleo4 ,do not ask me what ,i would do3 the question is1 what every body ought to do4 ,can a man believe the ,bible1 and at the same time apprehend a tyrant more crafty or malicious1 more unrelenting or inhuman than the devil1 or a mischief worse than hell1 and pains either more exquisite or more durable than torments unspeakable and yet everlasting8 ,you do not answer4 ,what evil is it8 ,think of it1 and tell me what dismal thing it is you apprehend1 should you neglect these laws1 and despise that tyrant3 what calamity could befall you8 ,let me know the worst that can be feared4 ,hor4 ,would you be posted for a coward8 ,cleo4 ,for what8 ,for not daring to violate all human and divine laws8 ,hor4 ,strictly speaking you are in the right1 it is unanswerable2 but who will consider things in that light8 ,cleo4 ,all good ,christians4 ,hor4 ,where are they then8 ,for all mankind in general would despise and laugh at a man1 who should move those scruples4 ,i have heard and seen clergymen themselves in company show their contempt of poltrons1 whatever they might talk or recommend in the pulpit4 ,entirely to quit the world1 and at once to renounce the conversation of all persons that are valuable in it1 is a terrible thing to resolve upon4 ,would you become a town and table-talk8 ,could you submit to be the jest and scorn of public-houses1 stage-coaches1 and market-places8 ,is not this the certain fate of a man1 who should refuse to fight1 or bear an affront without resentment8 be just1 ,cleomenes2 is it to be avoided8 ,must he not be made a common laughing-stock1 be pointed at in the streets1 and serve for diversion to the very children2 to link-boys and hackney-coachmen8 ,is it a thought to be born with patience8 ,cleo4 ,how come you now to have such an anxious regard for what may be the opinion of the vulgar1 whom at other times you so heartily despise8 ,hor4 ,all this is reasoning1 and you know the thing will not bear it3 how can you be so cruel8 ,cleo4 ,how can you be so backward in discovering and owning the passion1 that is so conspicuously the occasion of all this1 the palpable and only cause of the uneasiness we feel at the thoughts of being despised8 ,hor4 ,i am not sensible of any2 and ,i declare to you1 that ,i feel nothing that moves me to speak as ,i do1 but the sense and principle of honour within me4 ,cleo4 ,do you think that the lowest of the mob1 and the scum of the people1 are possessed of any part of this principle8 ,hor4 ,no1 indeed4 ,cleo4 ,or that among the highest quality1 infants can be affected with it before they are two years old8 ,hor4 ,ridiculous4 ,cleo4 ,if neither of these are affected with it1 then honour should be either adventitious1 and acquired by culture2 or1 if contained in the blood of those that are nobly born1 imperceptible until the years of discretion2 and neither of them can be said of the principle1 the palpable cause ,i speak of4 ,for we plainly see on the one hand1 that scorn and ridicule are intolerable to the poorest wretches1 and that there is no beggar so mean or miserable1 that contempt will never offend him3 on the other1 that human creatures are so early influenced by the sense of shame2 that children1 by being laughed at and made a jest of1 may be set a crying before they can well speak or go4 ,whatever1 therefore1 this mighty principle is1 it is born with us1 and belongs to our nature3 are you unacquainted with the proper1 genuine1 homely name of it8 ,hor4 ,i know you call it pride4 ,i will not dispute with you about principles and origins of things2 but that high value which men of honour set upon themselves as such1 and which is no more than what is due to the dignity of our nature1 when well cultivated1 is the foundation of their character1 and a support to them in all difficulties1 that is of great use to the society4 ,the desire1 likewise1 of being thought well of1 and the love of praise and even of glory are commendable qualities1 that are beneficial to the public4 ,the truth of this is manifest in the reverse2 all shameless people that are below infamy1 and matter not what is said or thought of them1 these1 we see nobody can trust2 they stick at nothing1 and if they can but avoid death1 pain1 and penal laws1 are always ready to execute all manner of mischief1 their selfishness or any brutal appetite shall prompt them to1 without regard to the opinion of others3 such are justly called men of no principles1 because they have nothing of any strength within1 that can either spur them on to brave and virtuous actions1 or restrain them from villany and baseness4 ,cleo4 ,the first part of your assertion is very true1 when that high value1 that desire1 and that love are kept within the bounds of reason3 ,but1 in the second1 there is a mistake2 those whom we call shameless1 are not more destitute of pride1 than their betters4 ,remember what ,i have said of education1 and the power of it2 you may add inclinations1 knowledge1 and circumstances2 for1 as men differ in all these1 so they are differently influenced and wrought upon by all the passions4 ,there is nothing that some men may not be taught to be ashamed of4 ,the same passion that makes the well-bred man1 and prudent officer1 value and secretly admire themselves for the honour and fidelity they display1 may make the rake and scoundrel brag of their vices1 and boast of their impudence4 ,hor4 ,i cannot comprehend1 how a man of honour1 and one that has none1 should both act from the same principle4 ,cleo4 ,this is not more strange1 than that self-love may make a man destroy himself1 yet nothing is more true2 and it is as certain1 that some men indulge their pride in being shameless4 ,to understand human nature1 requires study and application1 as well as penetration and sagacity4 ,all passions and instincts in general1 were given to all animals for some wise end1 tending to the preservation and happiness of themselves1 or their species3 ,it is our duty to hinder them from being detrimental or offensive to any part of the society2 but why should we be ashamed of having them8 ,the instinct of high value1 which every individual has for himself1 is a very useful passion3 but a passion it is1 and though ,i could demonstrate1 that we should be miserable creatures without it1 yet1 when it is excessive1 it often is the cause of endless mischiefs4 ,hor4 ,but in well-bred people it never is excessive4 ,cleo4 ,you mean the excess of it never appears outwardly3 ,but we ought never to judge of its height or strength from what we can discover of the passion itself1 but from the effects it produces3 ,it often is most superlative1 where it is most concealed2 and nothing increases and influences it more1 than what is called a refined education1 and a continual commerce with the beau monde3 ,the only thing that can subdue1 or any ways curb it1 is a strict adherence to the ,christian religion4 ,hor4 ,why do you so much insist upon it1 that this principle1 this value men set upon themselves1 is a passion8 ,and why will you choose to call it pride rather than honour8 ,cleo4 ,for very good reasons4 ,fixing this principle in human nature1 in the first place1 takes away all ambiguity3 ,who is a man of honour1 and who is not1 is often a disputable point2 and1 among those that are allowed to be such1 the several degrees of strictness1 in complying with the rules of it1 make great difference in the principle itself4 ,but a passion that is born with us is unalterable1 and part of our frame1 whether it exerts itself or not3 ,the essence of it is the same1 which way soever it is taught to turn4 ,honour is the undoubted offspring of pride1 but the same cause produces not always the same effect4 ,all the vulgar1 children1 savages1 and many others that are not affected with any sense of honour1 have all of them pride1 as is evident from the symptoms4 ,secondly1 it helps us to explain the phenomena that occur in quarrels and affronts1 and the behaviour of men of honour on these occasions1 which cannot be accounted for any other way4 ,but what moves me to it most of all1 is the prodigious force and exorbitant power of this principle of self esteem1 where it has been long gratified and encouraged4 ,you remember the concern you was under1 when you had that duel upon your hands1 and the great reluctancy you felt in doing what you did2 you knew it to be a crime1 and1 at the same time1 had a strong aversion to it2 what secret power was it that subdued your will1 and gained the victory over that great reluctancy you felt against it8 ,you call it honour1 and the too strict1 though unavoidable adherence to the rules of it3 ,but men never commit violence upon themselves1 but in struggling with the passions that are innate and natural to them4 ,honour is acquired1 and the rules of it are taught3 ,nothing adventitious1 that some are possessed1 and others destitute of1 could raise such intestine wars and dire commotions within us2 and therefore1 whatever is the cause that can thus divide us against ourselves1 and1 as it were1 rend human nature in twain1 must be part of us2 and1 to speak without disguise1 the struggle in your breast was between the fear of shame and the fear of death3 had this latter not been so considerable1 your struggle would have been less3 ,still the first conquered1 because it was strongest2 but if your fear of shame had been inferior to that of death1 you would have reasoned otherwise1 and found out some means or other to have avoided fighting4 ,hor4 ,this is a strange anatomy of human nature4 ,cleo4 ,yet1 for want of making use of it1 the subject we are upon is not rightly understood by many2 and men have discoursed very inconsistently on duelling4 ,a divine who wrote a dialogue to explode that practice1 said1 that those who were guilty of it1 had mistaken notions of1 and went by false rules of honour2 for which my friend justly ridiculed him1 saying1 ,you may as well deny1 that it is the fashion what you see every body wear1 as to say1 that demanding and giving satisfaction1 is against the laws of true honour4 ,had that man understood human nature1 he could not have committed such a blunder3 ,but when once he took it for granted1 that honour is a just and good principle1 without inquiring into the cause of it among the passions1 it is impossible he should have accounted for duelling1 in a ,christian pretending to act from such a principle2 and therefore1 in another place1 with the same justice1 he said1 that a man who had accepted a challenge was not qualified to make his will1 because he was not compos mentis3 ,he might1 with greater show of reason1 have said1 that he was bewitched4 ,hor4 ,why so8 ,cleo4 ,because people out of their wits1 as they think at random1 so commonly they act and talk incoherently2 but when a man of known sobriety1 and who shows no manner of discomposure1 discourses and behaves himself in every thing1 as he is used to do2 and1 moreover1 reasons on points of great nicety with the utmost accuracy1 it is impossible we should take him to be either a fool or a madman2 and when such a person1 in an affair of the highest importance1 acts so diametrically against his interest1 that a child can see it1 and with deliberation pursues his own destruction1 those who believe that there are malignant spirits of that power1 would rather imagine that he was led away by some enchantment1 and over-ruled by the enemy of mankind1 than they would fancy a palpable absurdity3 ,but even the supposition of that is not sufficient to solve the difficulty1 without the help of that strange anatomy4 ,for what spell or witchcraft is there1 by the delusion of which a man of understanding shall1 keeping his senses1 mistake an imaginary duty for an unavoidable necessity to break all real obligations8 ,but let us wave all ties of religion1 as well as human laws1 and the person we speak of to be a professed ,epicure1 that has no thoughts of futurity2 what violent power of darkness is it1 that can force and compel a peaceable quiet man1 neither inured to hardship1 nor valiant by nature1 to quit his beloved ease and security2 and seemingly by choice go fight in cold blood for his life1 with this comfortable reflection1 that nothing forfeits it so certainly as the entire defeat of his enemy8 ,hor4 ,as to the law and the punishment1 persons of quality have little to fear of that4 ,cleo4 ,you cannot say that in ,france1 nor the ,seven ,provinces4 ,but men of honour1 that are of much lower ranks1 decline duelling no more than those of the highest quality4 ,how many examples have we1 even here1 of gallant men1 that have suffered for it either by exile or the hangman6 ,a man of honour must fear nothing3 ,do but consider every obstacle which this principle of self-esteem has conquered at one time or other2 and then tell me whether it must not be something more than magic1 by the fascination of which a man of taste and judgment1 in health and vigour1 as well as the flower of his age1 can be tempted1 and actually drawn from the embraces of a wife he loves1 and the endearments of hopeful children1 from polite conversation and the charms of friendship1 from the fairest possessions and the happy enjoyment of all worldly pleasures1 to an unwarrantable combat1 of which the victor must be exposed either to an ignominious death1 or perpetual banishment4 ,hor4 ,when things are set in this light1 ,i confess it is very unaccountable3 but will your system explain this2 can you make it clear yourself8 ,cleo4 ,immediately1 as the sun3 ,if you will but observe two things1 that must necessarily follow1 and are manifest from what ,i have demonstrated already4 ,the first is1 that the fear of shame1 in general1 is a matter of caprice1 that varies with modes and customs1 and may be fixed on different objects1 according to the different lessons we have received1 and the precepts we are imbued with2 and that this is the reason1 why this fear of shame1 as it is either well or ill placed1 sometimes produces very good effects1 and at others is the cause of the most enormous crimes4 ,secondly1 that1 though shame is a real passion1 the evil to be feared from it is altogether imaginary1 and has no existence but in our own reflection on the opinion of others4 ,hor4 ,but there are real and substantial mischiefs which a man may draw upon himself1 by misbehaving in point of honour2 it may ruin his fortune1 and all hopes of preferment3 ,an officer may be broken for putting up an affront3 ,nobody will serve with a coward1 and who will employ him8 ,cleo4 ,what you urge is altogether out of the question2 at least it was in your own case2 you had nothing to dread or apprehend but the bare opinion of men4 ,besides1 when the fear of shame is superior to that of death1 it is likewise superior to1 and outweighs all other considerations2 as has been sufficiently proved3 ,but when the fear of shame is not violent enough to curb the fear of death1 nothing else can2 and whenever the fear of death is stronger than that of shame1 there is no consideration that will make a man fight in cold blood1 or comply with any of the laws of honour1 where life is at stake4 ,therefore1 whoever acts from the fear of shame as a motive1 in sending and accepting of challenges1 must be sensible1 on the one hand1 that the mischiefs he apprehends1 should he disobey the tyrant1 can only be the offspring of his own thoughts2 and1 on the other1 that if he could be persuaded anywise to lessen the great esteem and high value he sets upon himself1 his dread of shame would likewise palpably diminish4 ,from all which1 it is most evident1 that the grand cause of this distraction1 the powerful enchanter we are seeking after1 is pride1 excess of pride1 that highest pitch of self-esteem1 to which some men may be wound up by an artful education1 and the perpetual flatteries bestowed upon our species1 and the excellencies of our nature4 ,this is the sorcerer1 that is able to divert all other passions from their natural objects1 and make a rational creature ashamed of what is most agreeable to his inclination1 as well as his duty2 both which the duellist owns1 that he has knowingly acted against4 ,hor4 ,what a wonderful machine1 what an heterogenous compound is man6 ,you have almost conquered me4 ,cleo4 ,i aim at no victory1 all ,i wish for is to do you service1 in undeceiving you4 ,hor4 ,what is the reason that1 in the same person1 the fear of death should be so glaringly conspicuous in sickness1 or a storm1 and so entirely well hid in a duel1 and all military engagements8 ,pray1 solve that too4 ,cleo4 ,i will as well as ,i can3 ,on all emergencies1 where reputation is thought to be concerned1 the fear of shame is effectually roused in men of honour1 and immediately their pride rushes in to their assistance1 and summons all their strength to fortify and support them in concealing the fear of death2 by which extraordinary efforts1 the latter1 that is the fear of death1 is altogether stifled1 or1 at least1 kept out of sight1 and remains undiscovered4 ,but in all other perils1 in which they do not think their honour engaged1 their pride lies dormant4 ,and thus the fear of death1 being checked by nothing1 appears without disguise4 ,that this is the true reason1 is manifest from the different behaviour that is observed in men of honour1 according as they are either pretenders to ,christianity2 or tainted with irreligion2 for there are of both sorts2 and you shall see1 most commonly at least1 that your esprits forts1 and those who would be thought to disbelieve a future state 7,i speak of men of honour71 show the greatest calmness and intrepidity in the same dangers1 where the pretended believers among them1 appear to be the most ruffled and pusillanimous4 ,hor4 ,but why pretended believers8 at that rate there are no ,christians among the men of honour4 ,cleo4 ,i do not see how they can be real believers4 ,hor4 ,why so8 ,cleo4 ,for the same reason that a ,roman ,catholic cannot be a good subject1 always to be depended upon1 in a ,protestant1 or indeed any other country1 but the dominions of his ,holiness4 ,no sovereign can confide with safety in a man's allegiance1 who owns and pays homage to another superior power upon earth4 ,i am sure you understand me4 ,hor4 ,too well4 ,cleo4 ,you may yoke a knight with a prebendary1 and put them together into the same stall2 but honour1 and the ,christian religion1 make no couple1 nec in un sede morantur1 any more than majesty and love4 ,look back on your own conduct1 and you shall find1 that what you said of the hand of ,god was only a shift1 an evasion you made to serve your then present purpose4 ,on another occasion1 you had said yesterday yourself1 that ,providence superintends and governs every thing without exception2 you must1 therefore1 have known1 that the hand of ,god is as much to be seen in one common accident in life1 and in one misfortune1 as it is in another1 that is not more extraordinary4 ,a severe fit of sickness may be less fatal1 than a slight skirmish between two hostile parties2 and1 among men of honour1 there is often as much danger in a quarrel about nothing1 as there can be in the most violent storm4 ,it is impossible1 therefore1 that a man of sense1 who has a solid principle to go by1 should1 in one sort of danger1 think it impiety not to show fear1 and in another be ashamed to be thought to have any4 ,do but consider your own inconsistency with yourself4 ,at one time1 to justify your fear of death1 when pride is absent1 you become religious on a sudden1 and your conscience then is so tenderly scrupulous1 that1 to be undaunted under chastisements from the ,almighty1 seems no less to you than waging war with ,heaven2 and1 at another1 when honour calls1 you dare not knowingly and willingly break the most positive command of ,god1 but likewise to own1 that the greatest calamity which1 in your opinion1 can befal you1 is1 that the world should believe1 or but suspect of you1 that you had any scruple about it4 ,i defy the wit of man to carry the affront to the ,divine ,majesty higher4 ,barely to deny his being1 is not half so daring1 as it is to do this after you have owned him to exist4 ,no ,atheism---- ,hor4 ,hold1 ,cleomenes2 ,i can no longer resist the force of truth1 and ,i am resolved to be better acquainted with myself for the future4 ,let me become your pupil4 ,cleo4 ,do not banter me1 ,horatio2 ,i do not pretend to instruct a man of your knowledge2 but if you will take my advice1 search into yourself with care and boldness1 and1 at your leisure1 peruse the book ,i recommended4 ,hor4 ,i promise you ,i will1 and shall be glad to accept of the handsome present ,i refused3 ,pray1 send a servant with it to-morrow morning4 ,cleo4 ,it is a trifle4 ,you had better let one of yours go with me now2 ,i shall drive home directly4 ,hor4 ,i understand your scruple4 ,it shall be as you please4 ,,the ,,third ,,dialogue ,,between ,,horatio ,,and ,,cleomenes4 ,,horatio4 ,i thank you for your book4 ,cleo4 ,your acceptance of it ,i acknowledge as a great favour4 ,hor4 ,i confess1 that once ,i thought nobody could have persuaded me to read it2 but you managed me very skilfully1 and nothing could have convinced me so well as the instance of duelling3 ,the argument1 majori ad minus1 struck me1 without your mentioning it4 ,a passion that can subdue the fear of death1 may blind a man's understanding1 and do almost every thing else4 ,cleo4 ,it is incredible what strange1 various1 unaccountable1 and contradictory forms we may be shaped into by a passion1 that is not to be gratified without being concealed1 and never enjoyed with greater ecstacy than when we are most fully persuaded1 that it is well hid3 and therefore1 there is no benevolence or good nature1 no amiable quality or social virtue1 that may not be counterfeited by it2 and1 in short1 no achievement1 good or bad1 that the human body or mind are capable of1 which it may not seem to perform4 ,as to its blinding and infatuating the persons possessed with it to a high degree1 there is no doubt of it3 for what strength of reason1 ,i pray1 what judgment or penetration1 has the greatest genius1 if he pretends to any religion1 to boast of1 after he has owned himself to have been more terrified by groundless apprehensions1 and an imaginary evil from vain impotent men1 whom he has never injured1 than he was alarmed with the just fears of a real punishment from an all-wise and omnipotent ,god1 whom he has highly offended8 ,hor4 ,but your friend makes no such religious reflections3 he actually speaks in favour of duelling4 ,cleo4 ,what1 because he would have the laws against it as severe as possible1 and nobody pardoned1 without exception1 that offends that way8 ,hor4 ,that indeed seems to discourage it2 but he shows the necessity of keeping up that custom1 to polish and brighten society in general4 ,cleo4 ,do not you see the irony there8 ,hor4 ,no1 indeed3 he plainly demonstrates the usefulness of it1 gives as good reasons as it is possible to invent1 and shows how much conversation would suffer1 if that practice was abolished4 ,cleo4 ,can you think a man serious on a subject1 when he leaves it in the manner he does8 ,hor4 ,i do not remember that4 ,cleo4 ,here is the book3 ,i will look for the passage----,pray1 read this4 ,hor4 ,it is strange1 that a nation should grudge to see1 perhaps1 half a dozen men sacrificed in a twelvemonth1 to obtain so valuable a blessing1 as the politeness of manners1 the pleasure of conversation1 and the happiness of company in general1 that is often so willing to expose1 and sometimes loses as many thousands in a few hours1 without knowing whether it will do any good or not4 ,this1 indeed1 seems to be said with a sneer3 but in what goes before he is very serious4 ,cleo4 ,he is so1 when he says that the practice of duelling1 that is the keeping up of the fashion of it1 contributes to the politeness of manners and pleasure of conversation1 and this is very true2 but that politeness itself1 and that pleasure1 are the things he laughs at and exposes throughout his book4 ,hor4 ,but who knows1 what to make of a man1 who recommends a thing very seriously in one page1 and ridicules it in the next8 ,cleo4 ,it is his opinion1 that there is no solid principle to go by but the ,christian religion1 and that few embrace it with sincerity3 always look upon him in this view1 and you will never find him inconsistent with himself4 ,whenever at first sight he seems to be so1 look again1 and upon nearer inquiry you will find1 that he is only pointing at1 or labouring to detect the inconsistency of others with the principles they pretend to4 ,hor4 ,he seems to have nothing less at heart than religion4 ,cleo4 ,that is true1 and if he had appeared otherwise1 he would never have been read by the people whom he designed his book for1 the modern deists and all the beau monde3 ,it is those he wants to come at4 ,to the first he sets forth the origin and insufficiency of virtue1 and their own insincerity in the practice of it3 to the rest he shows the folly of vice and pleasure1 the vanity of worldly greatness1 and the hypocrisy of all those divines1 who1 pretending to preach the gospel1 give and take allowances that are inconsistent with1 and quite contrary to the precepts of it4 ,hor4 ,but this is not the opinion the world has of the book2 it is commonly imagined1 that it is wrote for the encouragement of vice1 and to debauch the nation4 ,cleo4 ,have you found any such thing in it8 ,hor4 ,to speak my conscience1 ,i must confess1 ,i have not3 vice is exposed in it1 and laughed at2 but it ridicules war and martial courage1 as well as honour and every thing else4 ,cleo4 ,pardon me1 religion is ridiculed in no part of it4 ,hor4 ,but if it is a good book1 why then are so many of the clergy so much against it as they are8 ,cleo4 ,for the reason ,i have given you3 my friend has exposed their lives1 but he has done it in such a manner1 that nobody can say he has wronged them1 or treated them harshly4 ,people are never more vexed1 than when the thing that offends them1 is what they must not complain of3 they give the book an ill name because they are angry2 but it is not their interest1 to tell you the the true reason why they are so4 ,i could draw you a parallel case that would clear up this matter1 if you would have patience to hear me1 which1 as you are a great admirer of operas1 ,i can hardly expect4 ,hor4 ,any thing to be informed4 ,cleo4 ,i always had such an aversion to eunuchs1 as no fine singing or acting of any of them has yet been able to conquer2 when ,i hear a feminine voice1 ,i look for a petticoat2 and ,i perfectly loath the sight of those sexless animals4 ,suppose that a man with the same dislike to them had wit at will1 and a mind to lash that abominable piece of luxury1 by which men are taught in cold blood to spoil males for diversion1 and out of wantonness to make waste of their own species4 ,in order to this1 we will say1 he takes a handle from the operation itself2 he describes and treats it in the most inoffensive manner2 then shows the narrow bounds of human knowledge1 and the small assistance we can have1 either from dissection or philosophy1 or any part of the mathematics1 to trace and penetrate into the cause priori1 why this destroying of manhood should have that surprising effect upon the voice2 and afterwards demonstrates1 how sure we are posteriori1 that it has a considerable influence1 not only on the pharinx1 the glands and muscles of the throat1 but likewise the windpipe1 and the lungs themselves1 and in short on the whole mass of blood1 consequently all the juices of the body1 and every fibre in it4 ,he might say likewise1 that no honey1 no preparations of sugar1 raisins1 or spermaceti2 no emulsions1 lozenges or other medicines1 cooling or balsamic2 no bleeding1 no temperance or choice in eatables2 no abstinence from women1 from wine1 and every thing that is hot1 sharp or spirituous1 were of that efficacy to preserve1 sweeten1 and strengthen the voice2 he might insist upon it1 that nothing could do this so effectually as castration4 ,for a blind to his main scope1 and to amuse his readers1 he might speak of this practice1 as made use of for other purposes2 that it had been inflicted as a solemn punishment for analogous crimes2 that others had voluntarily submitted to it1 to preserve health and prolong life2 whilst the ,romans1 by ,csar's testimony1 thought it more cruel than death1 morte gravius4 ,how it had been used sometimes by way of revenge2 and then say something in pity of poor ,abelard2 at other times for precaution2 and then relate the story of ,combabus and ,stratonice3 with scraps from ,martial1 ,juvenal1 and other poets1 he might interlard it1 and from a thousand pleasant things that have been said on the subject1 he might pick out the most diverting to embellish the whole4 ,his design being satire1 he would blame our fondness for these castrati1 and ridicule the age in which a brave ,english nobleman and a general officer1 serves his country at the hazard of his life1 a whole twelvemonth1 for less pay than an ,italian no-man of scoundrel extraction receives1 for now and then singing a song in great safety1 during only the winter-season4 ,he would laugh at the caresses and the court that are made to them by persons of the first quality1 who prostitute their familiarity with these most abject wretches1 and misplace the honour and civilities only due to their equals1 on things that are no part of the creation1 and owe their being to the surgeon2 animals so contemptible1 that they can curse their maker without ingratitude4 ,if he should call this book1 the ,eunuch is the ,man2 as soon as ,i heard the title1 before ,i saw the book1 ,i should understand by it1 that eunuchs were now esteemed1 that they were in fashion and in the public favour1 and considering that a eunuch is in reality not a man1 ,i should think it was a banter upon eunuchs1 or a satire against those1 who had a greater value for them than they deserved4 ,but if the gentlemen of the academy of music1 displeased at the freedom they were treated with1 should take it ill1 that a paultry scribbler should interfere and pretend to censure their diversion1 as well as they might2 if they should be very angry1 and study to do him a mischief1 and accordingly1 not having much to say in behalf of eunuchs1 not touch upon any thing the author had said against their pleasure1 but represent him to the world as an advocate for castration1 and endeavour to draw the public odium upon him by quotations taken from him proper for that purpose1 it would not be difficult to raise a clamour against the author1 or find a grand jury to present his book4 ,hor4 ,the simile holds very well as to the injustice of the accusation1 and the insincerity of the complaint2 but is it as true1 that luxury will render a nation flourishing1 and that private vices are public benefits1 as that castration preserves and strengthens the voice8 ,cleo4 ,with the restrictions my friend requires1 ,i believe it is1 and the cases are exactly alike4 ,nothing is more effectual to preserve1 mend1 and strengthen a fine voice in youth than castration3 the question is not1 whether this is true1 but whether it is eligible2 whether a fine voice is an equivalent for the loss1 and whether a man would prefer the satisfaction of singing1 and the advantages that may accrue from it1 to the comforts of marriage1 and the pleasure of posterity1 of which enjoyments it destroys the possibility4 ,in like manner1 my friend demonstrates1 in the first place1 that the national happiness which the generality wish and pray for1 is wealth and power1 glory and worldly greatness2 to live in ease1 in affluence and splendour at home1 and to be feared1 courted1 and esteemed abroad3 in the second1 that such a felicity is not to be attained to without avarice1 profuseness1 pride1 envy1 ambition1 and other vices4 ,the latter being made evident beyond contradiction1 the question is not1 whether it is true1 but whether this happiness is worth having at the rate it is only to be had at1 and whether any thing ought to be wished for1 which a nation cannot enjoy1 unless the generality of them are vicious4 ,this he offers to the consideration of ,christians1 and men who pretend to have renounced the world1 with all the pomp and vanity of it4 ,hor4 ,how does it appear that the author addresses himself to such8 ,cleo4 ,from his writing it in ,english1 and publishing it in ,london4 ,but have you read it through yet8 ,hor4 ,twice3 there are many things ,i like very well1 but ,i am not pleased with the whole4 ,cleo4 ,what objection have you against it8 ,hor4 ,it has diminished the pleasure ,i had in reading a much better book4 ,lord ,shaftsbury is my favourite author3 ,i can take delight in enthusiasm2 but the charms of it cease as soon as ,i am told what it is ,i enjoy4 ,since we are such odd creatures1 why should we not make the most of it8 ,cleo4 ,i thought you was resolved to be better acquainted with yourself1 and to search into your heart with care and boldness4 ,hor4 ,that is a cruel thing2 ,i tried it three times since ,i saw you last1 till it put me into a sweat1 and then ,i was forced to leave off4 ,cleo4 ,you should try again1 and use yourself by degrees to think abstractly1 and then the book will be a great help to you4 ,hor4 ,to confound me it will3 it makes a jest of all politeness and good manners4 ,cleo4 ,excuse me1 ,sir1 it only tells us1 what they are4 ,hor4 ,it tells us1 that all good manners consist in flattering the pride of others1 and concealing our own4 ,is not that a horrid thing8 ,cleo4 ,but is it not true8 ,hor4 ,as soon as ,i had read that passage1 it struck me3 down ,i laid the book1 and tried in above fifty instances1 sometimes of civility1 and sometimes of ill manners1 whether it would answer or not1 and ,i profess that it held good in every one4 ,cleo4 ,and so it would if you tried till doomsday4 ,hor4 ,but is not that provoking8 ,i would give a hundred guineas with all my heart1 that ,i did not know it4 ,i cannot endure to see so much of my own nakedness4 ,cleo4 ,i never met with such an open enmity to truth in a man of honour before4 ,hor4 ,you shall be as severe upon me as you please2 what ,i say is fact4 ,but since ,i am got in so far1 ,i must go through with it now3 there are fifty things that ,i want to be informed about4 ,cleo4 ,name them1 pray2 if ,i can be of any service to you1 ,i shall reckon it as a great honour2 ,i am perfectly well acquainted with the author's sentiments4 ,hor4 ,i have twenty questions to ask about pride1 and ,i do not know where to begin4 ,there is another thing ,i do not understand2 which is1 that there can be no virtue without self-denial4 ,cleo4 ,this was the opinion of all the ancients4 ,lord ,shaftsbury was the first that maintained the contrary4 ,hor4 ,but are there no persons in the world that are good by choice8 ,cleo4 ,yes2 but then they are directed in that choice by reason and experience1 and not by nature1 ,i mean1 not by untaught nature3 but there is an ambiguity in the word good which ,i would avoid2 let us stick to that of virtuous1 and then ,i affirm1 that no action is such1 which does not suppose and point at some conquest or other1 some victory great or small over untaught nature2 otherwise the epithet is improper4 ,hor4 ,but if by the help of a careful education1 this victory is obtained1 when we are young1 may we not be virtuous afterwards voluntarily and with pleasure8 ,cleo4 ,yes1 if it really was obtained3 but how shall we be sure of this1 and what reason have we to believe that it ever was8 when it is evident1 that from our infancy1 instead of endeavouring to conquer our appetites1 we have always been taught1 and have taken pains ourselves to conceal them2 and we are conscious within1 that whatever alterations have been made in our manners and our circumstances1 the passions themselves always remained8 ,the system that virtue requires to self-denial1 is1 as my friend has justly observed1 a vast inlet to hypocrisy3 it will1 on all accounts1 furnish men with a more obvious handle1 and a greater opportunity of counterfeiting the love of society1 and regard to the public1 than ever they could have received from the contrary doctrine1 viz4 that there is no merit but in the conquest of the passions1 nor any virtue without apparent self-denial4 ,let us ask those that have had long experience1 and are well skilled in human affairs1 whether they have found the generality of men such impartial judges of themselves1 as never to think better of their own worth than it deserved1 or so candid in the acknowledgment of their hidden faults and slips1 they could never be convinced of1 that there is no fear they should ever stifle or deny them4 ,where is the man that has at no time covered his failings1 and screened himself with false appearances1 or never pretended to act from principles of social virtue1 and his regard to others1 when he knew in his heart that his greatest care had been to oblige himself8 ,the best of us sometimes receive applause without undeceiving those who give it2 though1 at the same time1 we are conscious that the actions1 for which we suffer ourselves to be thought well of1 are the result of a powerful frailty in our nature1 that has often been prejudicial to us1 and which we have wished a thousand times in vain1 that we could have conquered4 ,the same motives may produce very different actions1 as men differ in temper and circumstances4 ,persons of an easy fortune may appear virtuous1 from the same turn of mind that would show their frailty if they were poor4 ,i we would know the world1 we must look into it4 ,you take no delight in the occurrences of low life2 but if we always remain among persons of quality1 and extend our inquiries no farther1 the transactions there will not furnish us with a sufficient knowledge of every thing that belongs to our nature4 ,there are1 among the middling people1 men of low circumstances1 tolerably well educated1 that set out with the same stock of virtues and vices1 and though equally qualified1 meet with very different success2 visibly owing to the difference in their temper4 ,let us take a view of two persons bred to the same business1 that have nothing but their parts and the world before them1 launching out with the same helps and disadvantages3 let there be no difference between them1 but in their temper2 the one active1 and the other indolent4 ,the latter will never get an estate by his own industry1 though his profession be gainful1 and himself master of it4 ,chance1 or some uncommon accident1 may be the occasion of great alterations in him1 but without that he will hardly ever raise himself to mediocrity4 ,unless his pride affects him in an extraordinary manner1 he must always be poor1 and nothing but some share of vanity can hinder him from being despicably so4 ,if he be a man of sense1 he will be strictly honest1 and a middling stock of covetousness will never divert him from it4 ,in the active stirring man1 that is easily reconciled to the bustle of the world1 we shall discover quite different symptoms1 under the same circumstances2 and a very little avarice will egg him on to pursue his aim with eagerness and assiduity3 small scruples are no opposition to him2 where sincerity will not serve1 he uses artifice2 and in compassing his ends1 the greatest use he will make of his good sense will be1 to preserve as much as is possible1 the appearance of honesty2 when his interest obliges him to deviate from it4 ,to get wealth1 or even a livelihood by arts and sciences1 it is not sufficient to understand them3 it is a duty incumbent on all men1 who have their maintenance to seek1 to make known and forward themselves in the world1 as far as decency allows of1 without bragging of themselves1 or doing prejudice to others3 here the indolent man is very deficient and wanting to himself2 but seldom will own his fault1 and often blames the public for not making use of him1 and encouraging that merit1 which they never were acquainted with1 and himself perhaps took pleasure to conceal2 and though you convince him of his error1 and that he has neglected even the most warrantable methods of soliciting employment1 he will endeavour to colour over his frailty with the appearance of virtue2 and what is altogether owing to his too easy temper1 and an excessive fondness for the calmness of his mind1 he will ascribe to his modesty and the great aversion he has to impudence and boasting4 ,the man of a contrary temper trusts not to his merit only1 or the setting it off to the best advantage2 he takes pains to heighten it in the opinion of others1 and make his abilities seem greater than he knows them to be4 ,as it is counted folly for a man to proclaim his own excellencies1 and speak magnificently of himself1 so his chief business is to seek acquaintance1 and make friends on purpose to do it for him3 all other passions he sacrifices to his ambition2 he laughs at disappointments1 is inured to refusals1 and no repulse dismays him3 this renders the whole man always flexible to his interest2 he can defraud his body of necessaries1 and allow no tranquillity to his mind2 and counterfeit1 if it will serve his turn1 temperance1 chastity1 compassion1 and piety itself1 without one grain of virtue or religion3 his endeavours to advance his fortune per fas et nefas are always restless1 and have no bounds1 but where he is obliged to act openly1 and has reason to fear the censure of the world4 ,it is very diverting to see how1 in the different persons ,i speak of1 natural temper will warp and model the very passions to its own bias3 pride1 for example1 has not the same1 but almost a quite contrary effect on the one to what it has on the other3 the stirring active man it makes in love with finery1 clothes1 furniture1 equipages1 building1 and every thing his superiors enjoy3 the other it renders sullen1 and perhaps morose2 and if he has wit1 prone to satire1 though he be otherwise a good-natured man4 ,self-love1 in every individual1 ever bestirs itself in soothing and flattering the darling inclination2 always turning from us the dismal side of the prospect2 and the indolent man in such circumstances1 finding nothing pleasing without1 turns his view inward upon himself2 and there1 looking on every thing with great indulgence1 admires and takes delight in his own parts1 whether natural or acquired3 hence he is easily induced to despise all others who have not the same good qualifications1 especially the powerful1 and wealthy1 whom yet he never hates or envies with any violence2 because that would ruffle his temper4 ,all things that are difficult he looks upon as impossible1 which makes him despair of meliorating his condition2 and as he has no possessions1 and his gettings will but just maintain him in a low station of life1 so his good sense1 if he would enjoy so much as the appearance of happiness1 must necessarily put him upon two things2 to be frugal1 and pretend to have no value for riches2 for1 by neglecting either1 he must be blown up1 and his frailty unavoidably discovered4 ,hor4 ,i am pleased with your observations1 and the knowledge you display of mankind2 but pray1 is not the frugality you now speak of a virtue8 ,cleo4 ,i think not4 ,hor4 ,where there is but a small income1 frugality is built upon reason2 and in this case there is an apparent self-denial1 without which an indolent man that has no value for money cannot be frugal2 and we see indolent men1 that have no regard for wealth1 reduced to beggary1 as it often happens1 it is most commonly for want of this virtue4 ,cleo4 ,i told you before1 that the indolent man1 setting out as he did1 would be poor2 and that nothing but some share of vanity could hinder him from being despicably so4 ,a strong fear of shame may gain so much upon the indolence of a man of sense1 that he will bestir himself sufficiently to escape contempt2 but it will hardly make him do any more2 therefore he embraces frugality1 as being instrumental and assisting to him in procuring his summum bonum1 the darling quiet of his easy mind2 whereas1 the active man1 with the same share of vanity1 would do any thing rather than submit to the same frugality1 unless his avarice forced him to it4 ,frugality is no virtue1 when it is imposed upon us by any of the passions1 and the contempt of riches is seldom sincere4 ,i have known men of plentiful estates1 that1 on account of posterity1 or other warrantable views of employing their money1 were saving1 and more penurious1 than they would have been1 if their wealth had been greater3 but ,i never yet found a frugal man1 without avarice or necessity4 ,and again1 there are innumerable spendthrifts1 lavish and extravagant to a high degree1 who seem not to have the least regard to money1 whilst they have any to fling away3 but these wretches are the least capable of bearing poverty of any1 and the money once gone1 hourly discover how uneasy1 impatient1 and miserable they are without it4 ,but what several in all ages have made pretence to1 the contempt of riches1 is more scarce than is commonly imagined4 ,to see a man of a very good estate1 in health and strength of body and mind1 one that has no reason to complain of the world or fortune1 actually despise both1 and embrace a voluntary poverty1 for a laudable purpose1 is a great rarity4 ,i know but one in all antiquity1 to whom all this may be applied with strictness of truth4 ,hor4 ,who is that1 pray8 ,cleo4 ,anaxagoras of ,clazomene in ,ionia3 ,he was very rich1 of noble extraction1 and admired for his great capacity3 he divided and gave away his estate among his relations1 and refused to meddle with the administration of public affairs that was offered him1 for no other reason1 than that he might have leisure for contemplation of the works of nature1 and the study of philosophy4 ,hor4 ,to me it seems to be more difficult to be virtuous without money1 than with3 it is senseless for a man to be poor1 when he can help it1 and if ,i saw any body choose it1 when he might as lawfully be rich1 ,i would think him to be distracted4 ,cleo4 ,but you would not think him so1 if you saw him sell his estate1 and give the money to the poor3 you know where that was required4 ,hor4 ,it is not required of us4 ,cleo4 ,perhaps not3 but what say you to renouncing the world1 and the solemn promise we have made of it8 ,hor4 ,in a literal sense that is impossible1 unless we go out of it2 and therefore ,i do not think1 that to renounce the world signifies any more1 than not to comply with the vicious1 wicked part of it4 ,cleo4 ,i did not expect a more rigid construction from you1 though it is certain1 that wealth and power are great snares1 and strong impediments to all ,christian virtue3 but the generality of mankind1 that have any thing to lose1 are of your opinion2 and let us bar saints and madmen1 we shall find every where1 that those who pretend to undervalue1 and are always haranguing against wealth1 are generally poor and indolent4 ,but who can blame them8 ,they act in their own defence2 nobody that could help it would ever be laughed at2 for it must be owned1 that of all the hardships of poverty1 it is that which is the most intolerable4 ,nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se1 ,quam quod ridiculos homines faciat4---- ,in the very satisfaction that is enjoyed by those who excel in1 or are possessed of things valuable1 there is interwoven a spice of contempt for others1 that are destitute of them1 which nothing keeps from public view1 but a mixture of pity and good manners4 ,whoever denies this1 let them consult within1 and examine whether it is not the same with happiness1 as what ,seneca says of the reverse1 nemo est miser nisi comparatus4 ,the contempt and ridicule ,i speak of1 is1 without doubt1 what all men of sense and education endeavour to avoid or disappoint4 ,now1 look upon the behaviour of the two contrary tempers before us1 and mind how differently they set about this talk1 every one suitably to his own inclination4 ,the man of action1 you see1 leaves no stone unturned to acquire quod oportet habere3 but this is impossible for the indolent2 he cannot stir2 his idol ties him down hand and foot2 and1 therefore1 the easiest1 and1 indeed the only thing he has left1 is to quarrel with the world1 and find out arguments to depreciate what others value themselves upon4 ,hor4 ,i now plainly see1 how pride and good sense must put an indolent man1 that is poor1 upon frugality2 and likewise the reason1 why they will make him affect to be content1 and seem pleased with his low condition3 for1 if he will not be frugal1 want and misery are at the door3 and if he shows any fondness for riches1 or a more ample way of living1 he loses the only plea he has for his darling frailty1 and immediately he will be asked1 why he does not exert himself in a better manner8 and he will be continually told of the opportunities he neglects4 ,cleo4 ,it is evident1 then1 that the true reasons1 why men speak against things1 are not always writ upon their foreheads4 ,hor4 ,but after all this quiet easy temper1 this indolence you talk of1 is it not what1 in plain ,english1 we call laziness8 ,cleo4 ,not at all2 it implies no sloth1 or aversion to labour3 an indolent man may be very diligent1 though he cannot be industrious3 he will take up with things below him1 if they come in his way2 he will work in a garret1 or any where else1 remote from public view1 with patience and assiduity1 but he knows not how to solicit and teaze others to employ him1 or demand his due of a shuffling1 designing master1 that is either difficult of access1 or tenacious of his money3 if he be a man of letters1 he will study hard for a livelihood1 but generally parts with his labours at a disadvantage1 and will knowingly sell them at an under-rate to an obscure man1 who offers to purchase1 rather than bear the insults of haughty booksellers1 and be plagued with the sordid language of the trade4 ,an indolent man may1 by chance1 meet with a person of quality1 that takes a fancy to him2 but he will never get a patron by his own address2 neither will he ever be the better for it1 when he has one1 further than the unasked-for bounty1 and downright generosity of his benefactor make him4 ,as he speaks for himself with reluctancy1 and is always afraid of asking favours1 so1 for benefits received1 he shows no other gratitude1 than what the natural emotions of his heart suggest to him4 ,the striving1 active man studies all the winning ways to ingratiate himself1 and hunts after patrons with design and sagacity3 whilst they are beneficial to him2 he affects a perpetual sense of thankfulness2 but all his acknowledgments of past obligations1 he turns into solicitations for fresh favours3 his complaisance may be engaging1 and his flattery ingenious1 but the heart is untouched3 he has neither leisure1 nor the power to love his benefactors3 the eldest he has1 he will always sacrifice to a new one2 and he has no other esteem for the fortune1 the greatness1 or the credit of a patron1 than as he can make them subservient either to raise or maintain his own4 ,from all this1 and a little attention on human affairs1 we may easily perceive1 in the first place1 that the man of action1 and an enterprising temper1 in following the dictates of his nature1 must meet with more rubs and obstacles infinitely1 than the indolent1 and a multitude of strong temptations1 to deviate from the rules of strict virtue1 which hardly ever come in the other's way2 that1 in many circumstances1 he will be forced to commit such actions1 for which1 all his skill and prudence notwithstanding1 he will1 by some body or other1 deservedly be thought to be an ill man2 and that to end with a tolerable reputation1 after a long course of life1 he must have had a great deal of good fortune1 as well as cunning4 ,secondly1 that the indolent man may indulge his inclinations1 and be as sensual as his circumstances may let him1 with little offence or disturbance to his neighbour2 that the excessive value he sets upon the tranquillity of his mind1 and the grand aversion he has to part with it1 must prove a strong curb to every passion1 that comes uppermost2 none of which1 by this means1 can ever affect him in any high degree1 and consequently1 that the corruption of his heart remaining1 he may1 with little art and no great trouble1 acquire many valuable qualities1 that shall have all the appearances of social virtues1 whilst nothing extraordinary befals him4 ,as to his contempt of the world1 the indolent man perhaps will scorn to make his court1 and cringe to a haughty favourite1 that will browbeat him at first2 but he will run with joy to a rich nobleman1 that he is sure will receive him with kindness and humanity3 ,with him he will partake1 without reluctancy1 of all the elegant comforts of life that are offered1 the most expensive not excepted4 ,would you try him further1 confer upon him honour and wealth in abundance4 ,if this change in his fortune stirs up no vice that lay dormant before1 as it may by rendering him either covetous or extravagant1 he will soon conform himself to the fashionable world3 ,perhaps he will be a kind master1 an indulgent father1 a benevolent neighbour1 munificent to merit that pleases him1 a patron to virtue1 and a wellwisher to his country2 but for the rest1 he will take all the pleasure he is capable of enjoying2 stifle no passion he can calmly gratify1 and1 in the midst of a luxuriant plenty1 laugh heartily at frugality1 and the contempt of riches and greatness he professed in his poverty2 and cheerfully own the futility of those pretences4 ,hor4 ,i am convinced1 that1 in the opinion of virtue's requiring self-denial1 there is greater certainty1 and hypocrites have less latitude than in the contrary system4 ,cleo4 ,whoever follows his own inclinations1 be they never so kind1 beneficent1 or human1 never quarrel with any vice1 but what is clashing with his temperament and nature2 whereas those who act from a principle of virtue1 take always reason for their guide1 and combat1 without exception1 every passion that hinders them from their duty6 ,the indolent man will never deny a just debt2 but1 if it be large1 he will not give himself the trouble which1 poor as he is1 he might1 and ought to take to discharge it1 or1 at least1 satisfy his creditors1 unless he is often dunned1 or threatened to be sued for it4 ,he will not be a litigious neighbour1 nor make mischief among his acquaintance2 but he will never serve his friend or his country1 at the expence of his quiet4 ,he will not be rapacious1 oppress the poor1 or commit vile actions for lucre2 but then he will never exert himself1 and be at the pains another would take on all opportunities1 to maintain a large family1 make provision for children1 and promote his kindred and relations2 and his darling frailty will incapacitate him from doing a thousand things for the benefit of the society1 which1 with the same parts and opportunities1 he might1 and would have done1 had he been of another temper4 ,hor4 ,your observations are very curious1 and1 as far as ,i can judge from what ,i have seen myself1 very just and natural4 ,cleo4 ,every body knows that there is no virtue so often counterfeited as charity1 and yet so little regard have the generality of men to truth1 that how gross and bare-faced soever the deceit is in pretences of this nature1 the world never fails of being angry with1 and hating those who detect or take notice of the fraud4 ,it is possible1 that1 with blind fortune on his side1 a mean shopkeeper1 by driving a trade prejudicial to his country on the one hand1 and grinding1 on all occasions1 the face of the poor on the other1 may accumulate great wealth2 which1 in process of time1 by continual scraping1 and sordid saving1 may be raised into an exorbitant1 an unheard-of estate for a tradesman4 ,should such a one1 when old and decrepit1 lay out the greatest part of his immense riches in the building1 or largely endowing an hospital1 and ,i was thoroughly acquainted with his temper and manners1 ,i could have no opinion of his virtue1 though he parted with the money1 whilst he was yet alive2 more especially1 if ,i was assured1 that1 in his last will1 he had been highly unjust1 and had not only left unrewarded several1 whom he had great obligations to1 but likewise defrauded others1 to whom1 in his conscience1 he knew that he was1 and would die actually indebted4 ,i desire you to tell me what name1 knowing all ,i have said to be true1 you would give to this extraordinary gift1 this mighty donation6 ,hor4 ,i am of opinion1 than when an action of our neighbour may admit of different constructions1 it is our duty to side with1 and embrace the most favourable4 ,cleo4 ,the most favourable constructions with all my heart3 ,but what is that to the purpose1 when all the straining in the world cannot make it a good one8 ,i do not mean the thing itself1 but the principle it came from1 the inward motive of the mind that put him upon performing it2 for it is that which1 in a free agent1 ,i call the action3 ,and1 therefore1 call it what you please1 and judge as charitably of it as you can1 what can you say of it8 ,hor4 ,he might have had several motives1 which ,i do not pretend to determine2 but it is an admirable contrivance of being extremely beneficial to all posterity in this land1 a noble provision that will perpetually relieve1 and be an unspeakable comfort to a multitude of miserable people2 and it is not only a prodigious1 but likewise a well-concerted bounty that was wanting1 and for which1 in after ages1 thousands of poor wretches will have reason to bless his memory1 when every body else shall have neglected them4 ,cleo4 ,all that ,i have nothing against2 and if you would add more1 ,i shall not dispute it with you1 as long as you confine your praises to the endowment itself1 and the benefit the public is like to receive from it4 ,but to ascribe it to1 or suggest that it was derived from a public spirit in the man1 a generous sense of humanity and benevolence to his kind1 a liberal heart1 or any other virtue or good quality1 which it is manifest the donor was an utter stranger to1 is the utmost absurdity in an intelligent creature1 and can proceed from no other cause than either a wilful wronging of his own understanding1 or else ignorance and folly4 ,hor4 ,i am persuaded1 that many actions are put off for virtuous1 that are not so2 and that according as men differ in natural temper1 and turn of mind1 so they are differently influenced by the same passions3 ,i believe likewise1 that these last are born with us1 and belong to our nature2 that some of them are in us1 or at least the seeds of them1 before we perceive them3 but since they are in every individual1 how comes it that pride is more predominant in some than it is in others8 ,for from what you have demonstrated already1 it must follow1 that one person is more affected with the passion within than another2 ,i mean1 that one man has actually a greater share of pride than another1 as well among the artful that are dexterous in concealing it1 as among the ill-bred that openly show it4 ,cleo4 ,what belongs to our nature1 all men may justly be said to have actually or virtually in them at their birth2 and whatever is not born with us1 either the thing itself1 or that which afterwards produces it1 cannot be said to belong to our nature3 but as we differ in our faces and stature1 so we do in other things1 that are more remote from sight3 but all these depend only upon the different frame1 the inward formation of either the solids or the fluids2 and there are vices of complexion1 that are peculiar1 some to the pale and phlegmatic1 others to the sanguine and choleric3 some are more lustful1 others more fearful in their nature1 than the generality are3 but ,i believe of man1 generally speaking1 what my friend has observed of other creatures1 that the best of the kind1 ,i mean the best formed within1 such as have the finest natural parts1 are born with the greatest aptitude to be proud2 but ,i am convinced1 that the difference there is in men1 as to the degrees of their pride1 is more owing to circumstances and education1 than any thing in their formation4 ,where passions are most gratified and least controlled1 the indulgence makes them stronger2 whereas those persons1 that have been kept under1 and whose thoughts have never been at liberty to rove beyond the first necessaries of life2 such as have not been suffered1 or had no opportunity to gratify this passion1 have commonly the least share of it4 ,but whatever portion of pride a man may feel in his heart1 the quicker his parts are1 the better his understanding is2 and the more experience he has1 the more plainly he will perceive the aversion which all men have to those that discover their pride3 and the sooner persons are imbued with good manners1 the sooner they grow perfect in concealing that passion4 ,men of mean birth and education1 that have been kept in great subjection1 and consequently had no great opportunities to exert their pride1 if ever they come to command others1 have a sort of revenge mixed with that passion1 which makes it often very mischievous1 especially in places where they have no superiors or equals1 before whom they are obliged to conceal the odious passion4 ,hor4 ,do you think women have more pride from nature than men8 ,cleo4 ,i believe not3 but they have a great deal more from education4 ,hor4 ,i do not see the reason3 for among the better sort1 the sons1 especially the eldest1 have as many ornaments and fine things given them from their infancy1 to stir up their pride1 as the daughters4 ,cleo4 ,but among people equally well-educated1 the ladies have more flattery bestowed upon them1 than the gentlemen1 and it begins sooner4 ,hor4 ,but why should pride be more encouraged in women than in men8 ,cleo4 ,for the same reason1 that it is encouraged in soldiers1 more than it is in other people2 to increase their fear of shame1 which makes them always mindful of their honour4 ,hor4 ,but to keep both to their respective duties1 why must a lady have more pride than a gentleman8 ,cleo4 ,because the lady is in the greatest danger of straying from it2 she has a passion within1 that may begin to affect her at twelve1 or thirteen1 and perhaps sooner1 and she has all the temptations of the men to withstand besides3 she has all the artillery of our sex to fear2 a seducer of uncommon address and resistless charms1 may court her to what nature prompts and solicits her to do2 he may add great promises1 actual bribes2 this may be done in the dark1 and when nobody is by dissuade her4 ,gentlemen very seldom have occasion to show their courage before they are sixteen or seventeen years of age1 and rarely so soon3 they are not put to the trial1 till1 by conversing with men of honour1 they are confirmed in their pride3 in the affair of a quarrel they have their friends to consult1 and these are so many witnesses of their behaviour1 that awe them to their duty1 and in a manner oblige them to obey the laws of honour3 all these things conspire to increase their fear of shame2 and if they can but render that superior to the fear of death1 their business is done2 they have no pleasure to expect from breaking the rules of honour1 nor any crafty tempter that solicits them to be cowards4 ,that pride which is the cause of honour in men1 only regards their courage2 and if they can but appear to be brave1 and will but follow the fashionable rules of manly honour1 they may indulge all other appetites1 and brag of incontinence without reproach3 the pride likewise that produces honour in women1 has no other object than their chastity2 and whilst they keep that jewel entire1 they can apprehend no shame3 tenderness and delicacy are a compliment to them2 and there is no fear of danger so ridiculous1 but they may own it with ostentation4 ,but notwithstanding the weakness of their frame1 and the softness in which women are generally educated1 if overcome by chance they have sinned in private1 what real hazards will they not run1 what torments will they not stifle1 and what crimes will they not commit1 to hide from the world that frailty1 which they were taught to be most ashamed of6 ,hor4 ,it is certain1 that we seldom hear of public prostitutes1 and such as have lost their shame1 that they murder their infants1 though they are otherwise the most abandoned wretches3 ,i took notice of this in the ,fable of the ,bees1 and it is very remarkable4 ,cleo4 ,it contains a plain demonstration1 that the same passion may produce either a palpable good or a palpable evil in the same person1 according as self-love and his present circumstances shall direct2 and that the same fear of shame1 that makes men sometimes appear so highly virtuous1 may at others oblige them to commit the most heinous crimes3 that1 therefore1 honour is not founded upon any principle1 either of real virtue or true religion1 must be obvious to all that will but mind what sort of people they are1 that are the greatest votaries of that idol1 and the different duties it requires in the two sexes3 in the first place1 the worshippers of honour are the vain and voluptuous1 the strict observers of modes and fashions1 that take delight in pomp and luxury1 and enjoy as much of the world as they are able3 in the second1 the word itself1 ,i mean the sense of it1 is so whimsical1 and there is such a prodigious difference in the signification of it1 according as the attribute is differently applied1 either to a man or to a woman1 that neither of them shall forfeit their honour1 though each should be guilty1 and openly boast of what would be the others greatest shame4 ,hor4 ,i am sorry that ,i cannot charge you with injustice3 but it is very strange2 that to encourage and industriously increase pride in a refined education1 should be the most proper means to make men solicitous in concealing the outward appearances of it4 ,cleo4 ,yet nothing is more true2 but where pride is so much indulged1 and yet to be so carefully kept from all human view1 as it is in persons of honour of both sexes1 it would be impossible for mortal strength to endure the restraint1 if men could not be taught to play the passion against itself1 and were not allowed to change the natural home-bred symptoms of it1 for artificial foreign ones4 ,hor4 ,by playing the passion against itself1 ,i know you mean placing a secret pride in concealing the barefaced signs of it3 but ,i do not rightly understand what you mean by changing the symptoms of it4 ,cleo4 ,when a man exults in his pride1 and gives a loose to that passion1 the marks of it are as visible in his countenance1 his mien1 his gait and behaviour1 as they are in a prancing horse1 or a strutting turkey-cock4 ,these are all very odious2 every one feeling the same principle within1 which is the cause of those symptoms2 and man being endued with speech1 all the open expressions the same passion can suggest to him1 must for the same reason be equally displeasing3 these1 therefore1 have in all societies been strictly prohibited by common consent1 in the very infancy of good manners2 and men have been taught1 in the room of them1 to substitute other symptoms1 equally evident with the first1 but less offensive1 and more beneficial to others4 ,hor4 ,which are they8 ,cleo4 ,fine clothes1 and other ornaments about them1 the cleanliness observed about their persons1 the submissions that is required of servants1 costly equipages1 furniture1 buildings1 titles of honour1 and every thing that men can acquire to make themselves esteemed by others1 without discovering any of the symptoms that are forbid3 upon a satiety of enjoying these1 they are allowed likewise to have the vapours1 and be whimsical1 though otherwise they are known to be in health and of good sense4 ,hor4 ,but since the pride of others is displeasing to us in every shape1 and these latter symptoms1 you say1 are equally evident with the first1 what is got by the change8 ,cleo4 ,a great deal3 when pride is designedly expressed in looks and gestures1 either in a wild or tame man1 it is known by all human creatures that see it2 it is the same1 when vented in words1 by every body that understands the language they are spoken in4 ,these are marks and tokens that are all the world over the same3 nobody shows them1 but to have them seen and understood1 and few persons ever display them without designing that offence to others1 which they never fail to give3 whereas1 the other symptoms may be denied to be what they are2 and many pretences1 that they are derived from other motives1 may be made for them1 which the same good manners teach us never to refute1 nor easily to disbelieve3 in the very excuses that are made1 there is a condescension that satisfies and pleases us4 ,in those that are altogether destitute of the opportunities to display the symptoms of pride that are allowed of1 the least portion of that passion is a troublesome1 though often an unknown guest2 for in them it is easily turned into envy and malice1 and on the least provocation1 it sallies out in those disguises1 and is often the cause of cruelty2 and there never was a mischief committed by mobs or multitudes1 which this passion had not a hand in3 whereas1 the more room men have to vent and gratify the passion in the warrantable ways1 the more easy it is for them to stifle the odious part of pride1 and seem to be wholly free from it4 ,hor4 ,i see very well1 that real virtues requires a conquest over untaught nature1 and that the ,christian religion demands a still stricter self-denial3 it likewise is evident1 that to make ourselves acceptable to an omniscient ,power1 nothing is more necessary than sincerity1 and that the heart should be pure4 ,but setting aside sacred matters1 and a future state1 do not you think that this complaisance and easy construction of one another's actions1 do a great deal of good upon earth2 and do not you believe that good manners and politeness make men more happy1 and their lives more comfortable in this world1 than any thing else could make them without those arts8 ,cleo4 ,if you will set aside what ought to employ our first care1 and be our greatest concern2 and men will have no value for that felicity and peace of mind1 which can only arise from a consciousness of being good1 it is certain1 that in a great nation1 and among a flourishing people1 whose highest wishes seem to be ease and luxury1 the upper part could not1 without those arts1 enjoy so much of the world as that can afford2 and that none stand more in need of them than the voluptuous men of parts1 that will join worldly prudence to sensuality1 and make it their chief study to refine upon pleasure4 ,hor4 ,when ,i had the honour of your company at my house1 you said that nobody knew when or where1 nor in what king's or emperor's reign the laws of honour were enacted2 pray1 can you inform me when or which way1 what we call good manners or politeness came into the world8 what moralist or politician was it1 that could teach men to be proud of hiding their pride8 ,cleo4 ,the resistless industry of man to supply his wants2 and his constant endeavours to meliorate his condition upon earth1 have produced and brought to perfection many useful arts and sciences1 of which the beginnings are of uncertain eras1 and to which we can align no other causes1 than human sagacity in general1 and the joint labour of many ages1 in which men have always employed themselves in studying and contriving ways and means to sooth their various appetites1 and make the best of their infirmities4 ,whence had we the first rudiments of architecture2 how came sculpture and painting to be what they have been these many hundred years2 and who taught every nation the respective languages they speak now4 ,when ,i have a mind to dive into the origin of any maxim or political invention1 for the use of society in general1 ,i do not trouble my head with inquiring after the time or country in which it was first heard of1 nor what others have wrote or said about it2 but ,i go directly to the fountain head1 human nature itself1 and look for the frailty or defect in man1 that is remedied or supplied by that invention3 when things are very obscure1 ,i sometimes make use of conjectures to find my way4 ,hor4 ,do you argue1 or pretend to prove any thing from those conjectures8 ,cleo4 ,no2 ,i never reason but from the plain observations which every body may make on man1 the phenomena that appear in the lesser world4 ,hor4 ,you have1 without doubt1 thought on this subject before now2 would you communicate to me some of your guesses8 ,cleo4 ,with abundance of pleasure4 ,hor4 ,you will give me leave1 now and then1 when things are not clear to me1 to put in a word for information's sake4 ,cleo4 ,i desire you would3 you will oblige me with it4 ,that self-love was given to all animals1 at least1 the most perfect1 for self-preservation1 is not disputed2 but as no creature can love what it dislikes1 it is necessary1 moreover1 that every one should have a real liking to its own being1 superior to what they have to any other4 ,i am of opinion1 begging pardon for the novelty1 that if this liking was not always permanent1 the love which all creatures have for themselves1 could not be so unalterable as we see it is4 ,hor4 ,what reason have you to suppose this liking1 which creatures have for themselves1 to be distinct from self-love2 since the one plainly comprehends the other8 ,cleo4 ,i will endeavour to explain myself better4 ,i fancy1 that to increase the care in creatures to preserve themselves1 nature has given them an instinct1 by which every individual values itself above its real worth2 this in us1 ,i mean in man1 seems to be accompanied with a diffidence1 arising from a consciousness1 or at least an apprehension1 that we do overvalue ourselves3 it is that makes us so fond of the approbation1 liking1 and assent of others2 because they strengthen and confirm us in the good opinion we have of ourselves4 ,the reasons why this self-liking1 give me leave to call it so1 is not plainly to be seen in all animals that are of the same degree of perfection1 are many4 ,some want ornaments1 and consequently the means to express it2 others are too stupid and listless3 it is to be considered likewise1 that creatures1 which are always in the same circumstances1 and meet with little variation in their way of living1 have neither opportunity nor temptation to show it2 that the more mettle and liveliness creatures have1 the more visible this liking is2 and that in those of the same kind1 the greater spirit they are of1 and the more they excel in the perfections of their species1 the fonder they are of showing it3 in most birds it is evident1 especially in those that have extraordinary finery to display3 in a horse it is more conspicuous than in any other irrational creature3 it is most apparent in the swiftest1 the strongest1 the most healthy and vigorous2 and may be increased in that animal by additional ornaments1 and the presence of man1 whom he knows1 to clean1 take care of1 and delight in him4 ,it is not improbable1 that this great liking which creatures have for their own individuals1 is the principle on which the love to their species is built3 cows and sheep1 too dull and lifeless to make any demonstration of this liking1 yet herd and feed together1 each with his own species2 because no others are so like themselves3 by this they seem to know likewise1 that they have the same interest1 and the same enemies2 cows have often been seen to join in a common defence against wolves3 birds of a feather flock together2 and ,i dare say1 that the screechowl likes her own note better than that of the nightingale4 ,hor4 ,montaigne seems to have been somewhat of your opinion1 when he fancied1 that if brutes were to paint the ,deity1 they would all draw him of their own species4 ,but what you call self-liking is evidently pride4 ,cleo4 ,i believe it is1 or at least the cause of it4 ,i believe1 moreover1 that many creatures show this liking1 when1 for want of understanding them1 we do not perceive it3 ,when a cat washes her face1 and a dog licks himself clean1 they adorn themselves as much as it is in their power4 ,man himself1 in a savage state1 feeding on nuts and acorns1 and destitute of all outward ornaments1 would have infinitely less temptation1 as well as opportunity1 of showing this liking of himself1 than he has when civilized2 yet if a hundred males of the first1 all equally free1 were together1 within less than half an hour1 this liking in question1 though their bellies were full1 would appear in the desire of superiority1 that would be shown among them2 and the most vigorous1 either in strength or understanding1 or both1 would be the first that would display it3 ,if1 as supposed1 they were all untaught1 this would breed contention1 and there would certainly be war before there could be any agreement among them2 unless one of them had some one or more visible excellencies above the rest4 ,i said males1 and their bellies full2 because1 if they had women among them1 or wanted food1 their quarrel might begin on another account4 ,hor4 ,this is thinking abstractly indeed3 but do you think that two or three hundred single savages1 men and women1 that never had been under any subjection1 and were above twenty years of age1 could ever establish a society1 and be united into one body1 if1 without being acquainted with one another1 they should meet by chance6 ,cleo4 ,no more1 ,i believe1 than so many horses3 but societies never were made that way4 ,it is possible that several families of savages might unite1 and the heads of them agree upon some sort of government or other1 for their common good3 but among them it is certain likewise1 that1 though superiority was tolerably well settled1 and every male had females enough1 strength and prowess in this uncivilized state would be infinitely more valued than understanding3 ,i mean in the men2 for the women will always prize themselves for what they see the men admire in them3 ,hence it would follow1 that the women would value themselves1 and envy one another for being handsome2 and that the ugly and deformed1 and all those that were least favoured by nature1 would be the first1 that would fly to art and additional ornaments3 seeing that this made them more agreeable to the men1 it would soon be followed by the rest1 and in a little time they would strive to outdo one another1 as much as their circumstances would allow of2 and it is possible1 that a woman1 with a very handsome nose1 might envy her neighbour with a much worse1 for having a ring through it4 ,hor4 ,you take great delight in dwelling on the behaviour of savages2 what relation has this to politeness8 ,cleo4 ,the seeds of it are lodged in this self-love and self-liking1 which ,i have spoke of1 as will soon appear1 if we would consider what would be the consequence of them in the affair of self-preservation1 and a creature endued with understanding1 speech1 and risibility4 ,self-love would first make it scrape together every thing it wanted for sustenance1 provide against the injuries of the air1 and do every thing to make itself and young ones secure4 ,self-liking would make it seek for opportunities1 by gestures1 looks1 and sounds1 to display the value it has for itself1 superior to what it has for others2 an untaught man would desire every body that came near him1 to agree with him in the opinion of his superior worth1 and be angry1 as far as his fear would let him1 with all that should refuse it3 he would be highly delighted with1 and love every body whom he thought to have a good opinion of him1 especially those1 that1 by words or gestures1 should own it to his face3 whenever he met with any visible marks in others of inferiority to himself1 he would laugh1 and do the same at their misfortunes1 as far as his own pity would give him leave1 and he would insult every body that would let him4 ,hor4 ,this self-liking1 you say1 was given to creatures for self-preservation3 ,i should think rather that it is hurtful to men1 because it must make them odious to one another2 and ,i cannot see what benefit they can receive from it1 either in a savage or a civilized state3 is there any instance of its doing any good8 ,cleo4 ,i wonder to hear you ask that question4 ,have you forgot the many virtues which ,i have demonstrated1 may be counterfeited to gain applause1 and the good qualities a man of sense in great fortune may acquire1 by the sole help and instigation of his pride8 ,hor4 ,i beg your pardon3 yet what you say only regards man in the society1 and after he has been perfectly well educated3 what advantage is it to him as a single creature8 ,self-love ,i can plainly see1 induces him to labour for his maintenance and safety1 and makes him fond of every thing which he imagines to tend to his preservation2 but what good does the self-liking to him8 ,cleo4 ,if ,i should tell you1 that the inward pleasure and satisfaction a man receives from the gratification of that passion1 is a cordial that contributes to his health1 you would laugh at me1 and think it far fetched4 ,hor4 ,perhaps not2 but ,i would set against it the many sharp vexations and heart-breaking sorrows1 that men suffer on the score of this passion1 from disgraces1 disappointments1 and other misfortunes1 which1 ,i believe1 have sent millions to their graves much sooner than they would have gone1 if their pride had less affected them4 ,cleo4 ,i have nothing against what you say3 but this is no proof that the passion itself was not given to man for self-preservation2 and it only lays open to us the precariousness of sublunary happiness1 and the wretched condition of mortals4 ,there is nothing created that is always a blessing2 the rain and sunshine themselves1 to which all earthly comforts are owing1 have been the causes of innumerable calamities4 ,all animals of prey1 and thousand others1 hunt after food with the hazard of their lives1 and the greater part of them perish in their pursuits after sustenance4 ,plenty itself is not less fatal to some1 than want is to others2 and of our own species1 every opulent nation has had great numbers1 that in full safety from all other dangers1 have destroyed themselves by excesses of eating and drinking3 yet nothing is more certain1 than that hunger and thirst were given to creatures1 to make them solicitous after1 and crave those necessaries1 without which it would be impossible for them to subsist4 ,hor4 ,still ,i can see no advantage accruing from their self-liking to man1 considered as a single creature1 which can induce me to believe1 that nature should have given it us for self-preservation4 ,what you have alleged is obscure2 can you name a benefit every individual person receives from that principle within him1 that is manifest1 and clearly to be understood8 ,cleo4 ,since it has been in disgrace1 and every body disowns the passion1 it seldom is seen in its proper colours1 and disguises itself in a thousand different shapes3 we are often affected with it1 when we have not the least suspicion of it2 but it seems to be that which continually furnishes us with that relish we have for life1 even when it is not worth having4 ,whilst men are pleased1 self-liking has every moment a considerable share1 though unknown1 in procuring the satisfaction they enjoy4 ,it is so necessary to the well-being of those that have been used to indulge it1 that they can taste no pleasure without it2 and such is the deference1 and the submissive veneration they pay to it1 that they are deaf to the loudest calls of nature1 and will rebuke the strongest appetites that should pretend to be gratified at the expence of that passion4 ,it doubles our happiness in prosperity1 and buoys us up against the frowns of adverse fortune4 ,it is the mother of hopes1 and the end as well as the foundation of our best wishes3 it is the strongest armour against despair2 and as long as we can like any ways our situation1 either in regard to present circumstances1 or the prospect before us1 we take care of ourselves2 and no man can resolve upon suicide1 whilst self-liking lasts3 but as soon as that is over1 all our hopes are extinct1 and we can form no wishes but for the dissolution of our frame2 till at last our being becomes so intolerable to us1 that self-love prompts us to make an end of it1 and seek refuge in death4 ,hor4 ,you mean self-hatred2 for you have said yourself1 that a creature cannot love what it dislikes4 ,cleo4 ,if you turn the prospect1 you are in the right3 but this only proves to us what ,i have often hinted at1 that man is made up of contrarieties2 otherwise nothing seems to be more certain1 than that whoever kills himself by choice1 must do it to avoid something1 which he dreads more than that death which he chooses4 ,therefore1 how absurd soever a person's reasoning may be1 there is in all suicide a palpable intention of kindness to one's self4 ,hor4 ,i must own that your observations are entertaining4 ,i am very well pleased with your discourse1 and ,i see an agreeable glimmering of probability that runs through it2 but you have said nothing that comes up to a half proof on the side of your conjecture1 if it be seriously considered4 ,cleo4 ,i told you before that ,i would lay no stress upon1 nor draw any conclusions from it3 but whatever nature's design was in bestowing this self-liking on creatures1 and whether it has been given to other animals besides ourselves or not1 it is certain1 that in our own species every individual person likes himself better than he does any other4 ,hor4 ,it may be so1 generally speaking3 but that it is not universally true1 ,i can assure you1 from my own experience2 for ,i have often wished my self to be ,count ,theodati1 whom you knew at ,rome4 ,cleo4 ,he was a very fine person indeed1 and extremely well accomplished2 and therefore you wished to be such another1 which is all you could mean4 ,celia has a very handsome face1 fine eyes1 fine teeth2 but she has red hair1 and is ill made3 therefore she wishes for ,chloe's hair and ,belinda's shape2 but she would still remain ,celia4 ,hor4 ,but ,i wished that ,i might have been that person1 that very ,theodati4 ,cleo4 ,that is impossible4 ,hor4 ,what1 is it impossible to wish it8 ,cleo4 ,yes1 to wish it2 unless you wished for annihilation at the same time4 ,it is that self we wish well to2 and therefore we cannot wish for any change in ourselves1 but with a proviso1 that to self1 that part of us that wishes1 should still remain3 for take away that consciousness you had of yourself whilst you was wishing1 and tell me1 pray1 what part of you it is that could be the better for the alteration you wished for8 ,hor4 ,i believe you are in the right4 ,no man can wish but to enjoy something1 which no part of that same man could do1 if he was entirely another4 ,cleo4 ,that he itself1 the person wishing1 must be destroyed before the change could be entire4 ,hor4 ,but when shall we come to the origin of politeness8 ,cleo4 ,we are at it now1 and we need not look for it any further than in the self-liking1 which ,i have demonstrated every individual man to be possessed of4 ,do but consider these two things3 ,first1 that from the nature of that passion1 it must follow1 that all untaught men will ever be hateful to one another in conversation1 where neither interest nor superiority are considered3 for1 if of two equals1 one only values himself more by half1 than he does the other1 though that other should value the first equally with himself1 they would both be dissatisfied1 if their thoughts were known to each other2 but if both valued themselves more by half1 than they did each other1 the difference between them would still be greater1 and a declaration of their sentiments would render them both insufferable to each other2 which1 among uncivilized men1 would happen every moment1 because1 without a mixture of art and trouble1 the outward symptoms of that passion are not to be stifled4 ,the second thing ,i would have you consider1 is1 the effect which1 in all human probability1 this inconveniency1 arising from self-liking1 would have upon creatures endued with a great share of understanding1 that are fond of their ease to the last degree1 and as industrious to procure it4 ,these two things1 ,i say1 do but duly weigh1 and you shall find that the disturbance and uneasiness that must be caused by self-liking1 whatever strugglings and unsuccessful trials to remedy them might precede1 must necessarily produce1 at long run1 what we call good manners and politeness4 ,hor4 ,i understand you1 ,i believe4 ,every body in this undisciplined state1 being affected with the high value he has for himself1 and displaying the most natural symptoms which you have described1 they would all be offended at the barefaced pride of their neighbours3 and it is impossible that this should continue long among rational creatures1 but the repeated experience of the uneasiness they received from such behaviour1 would make some of them reflect on the cause of it2 which1 in tract of time1 would make them find out1 that their own barefaced pride1 must be as offensive to others1 as that of others is to themselves4 ,cleo4 ,what you say is certainly the philosophical reason of the alterations that are made in the behaviour of men1 by their being civilized3 but all this is done without reflection2 and men by degrees1 and great length of time1 fall as it were into these things spontaneously4 ,hor4 ,how is that possible1 when it must cost them trouble1 and there is a palpable self-denial to be seen in the restraint they put upon themselves8 ,cleo4 ,in the pursuit of self-preservation1 men discover a restless endeavour to make themselves easy1 which insensibly teaches them to avoid mischief on all emergencies3 and when human creatures once submit to government1 and are used to live under the restraint of laws1 it is incredible how many useful cautions1 shifts1 and stratagems they will learn to practise by experience and imitation1 from conversing together1 without being aware of the natural causes that oblige them to act as they do1 viz4 the passions within1 that1 unknown to themselves1 govern their will and direct their behaviour4 ,hor4 ,you will make men as mere machines as ,cartes does brutes4 ,cleo4 ,i have no such design3 but ,i am of opinion1 that men find out the use of their limbs by instinct1 as much as brutes do the use of theirs2 and that1 without knowing any thing of geometry or arithmetic1 even children may learn to perform actions that seem to bespeak great skill in mechanics1 and a considerable depth of thought and ingenuity in the contrivance besides4 ,hor4 ,what actions are they which you judge this from8 ,cleo4 ,the advantageous postures which they will choose in resisting force1 in pulling1 pushing1 or otherwise removing weight2 from their sleight and dexterity in throwing stones1 and other projectiles2 and the stupendous cunning made use of in leaping4 ,hor4 ,what stupendous cunning1 ,i pray8 ,cleo4 ,when men would leap or jump a great way1 you know1 they take a run before they throw themselves off the ground4 ,it is certain1 that1 by this means1 they jump farther1 and with greater force than they could do otherwise3 the reason likewise is very plain4 ,the body partakes of1 and is moved by two motions2 and the velocity1 impressed upon it by leaping1 must be added to so much1 as it retained of the velocity it was put into by running3 ,whereas1 the body of a person who takes this leap1 as he is standing still1 has no other motion1 than what is received from the muscular strength exerted in the act of leaping4 ,see a thousand boys1 as well as men1 jump1 and they will make use of this stratagem2 but you will not find one of them that does it knowingly for that reason4 ,what ,i have said of that stratagem made use of in leaping1 ,i desire you would apply to the doctrine of good manners1 which is taught and practised by millions1 who never thought on the origin of politeness1 or so much as knew the real benefit it is of to society4 ,the most crafty and designing will every where be the first2 that1 for interest-sake1 will learn to conceal this passion of pride1 and1 in a little time1 nobody will show the least symptom of it1 whilst he is asking favours1 or stands in need of help4 ,hor4 ,that rational creatures should do all this1 without thinking or knowing what they are about1 is inconceivable4 ,bodily motion is one thing1 and the exercise of the understanding is another2 and therefore agreeable postures1 a graceful mien1 an easy carriage1 and a genteel outward behaviour1 in general1 may be learned and contracted perhaps without much thought2 but good manners are to be observed every where1 in speaking1 writing1 and ordering actions to be performed by others4 ,cleo4 ,to men who never turned their thoughts that way1 it certainly is almost inconceivable to what prodigious height1 from next to nothing1 some arts may be1 and have been raised by human industry and application1 by the uninterrupted labour and joint experience of many ages1 though none but men of ordinary capacity should ever be employed in them4 ,what a noble1 as well as beautiful1 what a glorious machine is a first rate man of war when she is under sail1 well rigged1 and well manned6 ,as in bulk and weight it is vastly superior to any other moveable body of human invention1 so there is no other that has an equal variety of differently surprising contrivance to boast of4 ,there are many sets of hands in the nation1 that1 not wanting proper materials1 would be able in less than half a-year1 to produce1 fit out1 and navigate a first rate3 yet it is certain1 that this task would be impracticable1 if it was not divided and subdivided into a great variety of different labours2 and it is as certain1 that none of these labours require any other1 than working men of ordinary capacities4 ,hor4 ,what would you infer from this8 ,cleo4 ,that we often ascribe to the excellency of man's genius1 and the depth of his penetration1 what is in reality owing to length of time1 and the experience of many generations1 all of them very little differing from one another in natural parts and sagacity4 ,and to know what it must have cost to bring that art of making ships for different purposes1 to the perfection in which it is now1 we are only to consider1 in the first place1 that many considerable improvements have been made in it within these fifty years and less2 and1 in the second1 that the inhabitants of this island did build1 and make use of ships eighteen hundred years ago1 and that1 from that time to this1 they have never been without4 ,hor4 ,which altogether make a strong proof of the slow progress that art has made to be what it is4 ,cleo4 ,the ,chevalier ,reneau has wrote a book1 in which he shows the mechanism of sailing1 and accounts mathematically for every thing that belongs to the working and steering of a ship4 ,i am persuaded1 that neither the first inventors of ships and sailing1 or those who have made improvements since in any part of them1 ever dreamed of those reasons1 any more than now the rudest and most illiterate of the vulgar do1 when they are made sailors1 which time and practice will do in spite of their teeth4 ,we have thousands of them that were first hauled on board1 and detained against their wills1 and yet1 in less than three years time1 knew every rope and every pully in the ship1 and without the least scrap of mathematics1 had learned the management as well as use of them1 much better than the greatest mathematician could have done in all his lifetime1 if he had never been at sea4 ,the book ,i mentioned1 among other curious things1 demonstrates what angle the rudder must make with the keel1 to render its influence upon the ship the most powerful4 ,this has its merit2 but a lad of fifteen1 who has served a year of his time on board of a hoy1 knows every thing that is useful in this demonstration1 practically4 ,seeing the poop always answering the motion of the helm1 he only minds the latter1 without making the least reflection on the rudder1 until in a year or two more his knowledge in sailing1 and capacity of steering his vessel1 become so habitual to him1 that he guides her1 as he does his own body1 by instinct1 though he is half asleep1 or thinking on quite another thing4 ,hor4 ,if1 as you said1 and which ,i now believe to be true1 the people who first invented1 and afterwards improved upon ships and sailing1 never dreamed of those reasons of ,monsieur ,reneau1 it is impossible that they should have acted from them1 as motives that induced them priori1 to put their inventions and improvements in practice1 with knowledge and design1 which1 ,i suppose1 is what you intended to prove4 ,cleo4 ,it is2 and ,i verily believe1 not only that the raw beginners1 who made the first essays in either art1 good manners as well as sailing1 were ignorant of the true cause2 the real foundation those arts are built upon in nature2 but likewise that1 even now both arts are brought to great perfection1 the greatest part of those that are most expert1 and daily making improvements in them1 know as little of the rationale of them1 as their predecessors did at first3 though ,i believe1 at the same time1 ,monsieur ,reneau's reasons to be very just1 and yours as good as his2 that is1 ,i believe1 that there is as much truth and solidity in your accounting for the origin of good manners1 as there is in his for the management of ships4 ,they are very seldom the same sort of people1 those that invent arts and improvements in them1 and those that inquire into the reason of things3 this latter is most commonly practised by such as are idle and indolent1 that are fond of retirement1 hate business1 and take delight in speculation2 whereas1 none succeed oftener in the first1 than active1 stirring1 and laborious men1 such as will put their hand to the plough1 try experiments1 and give all their attention to what they are about4 ,hor4 ,it is commonly imagined1 that speculative men are best at invention of all sorts4 ,cleo4 ,yet it is a mistake4 ,soap-boiling1 grain-drying1 and other trades and mysteries1 are1 from mean beginnings1 brought to great perfection2 but the many improvements that can be remembered to have been made in them1 have1 for the generality1 been owing to persons1 who either were brought up to1 or had long practised1 and been conversant in those trades1 and not to great proficients in chemistry1 or other parts of philosophy1 whom one would naturally expect those things from4 ,in some of these arts1 especially grain or scarlet-dying1 there are processes really astonishing2 and1 by the mixture of various ingredients1 by fire and fermentation1 several operations are performed1 which the most sagacious naturalist cannot account for by any system yet known2 a certain sign that they were not invented by reasoning priori4 ,when once the generality begin to conceal the high value they have for themselves1 men must become more tolerable to one another4 ,now1 new improvements must be made every day1 until some of them grow impudent enough1 not only to deny the high value they have for themselves1 but likewise to pretend that they have greater value for others1 than they have for themselves4 ,this will bring in complaisance2 and now flattery will rush in upon them like a torrent4 ,as soon as they are arrived at this pitch of insincerity1 they will find the benefit of it1 and teach it their children4 ,the passion of shame is so general1 and so early discovered in all human creatures1 that no nation can be so stupid1 as to be long without observing and making use of it accordingly4 ,the same may be said of the credulity of infants1 which is very inviting to many good purposes4 ,the knowledge of parents is communicated to their offspring1 and every one's experience in life being added to what he learned in his youth1 every generation after this must be better taught than the preceding2 by which means1 in two or three centuries1 good manners must be brought to great perfection4 ,hor4 ,when they are thus far advanced1 it is easy to conceive the rest3 ,for improvements1 ,i suppose1 are made in good manners1 as they are in all other arts and sciences4 ,but to commence from savages1 men1 ,i believe1 would make but a small progress in good manners the first three hundred years4 ,the ,romans1 who had a much better beginning1 had been a nation above six centuries1 and were almost masters of the world1 before they could be said to be a polite people4 ,what ,i am most astonished at1 and which ,i am now convinced of1 is1 that the basis of all this machinery is pride4 ,another thing ,i wonder at1 is1 that you chose to speak of a nation that entered upon good manners before they had any notions of virtue or religion1 which1 ,i believe1 there never was in the world4 ,cleo4 ,pardon me1 ,horatio2 ,i have nowhere insinuated that they had none1 but ,i had no reason to mention them4 ,in the first place1 you asked my opinion concerning the use of politeness in this world1 abstract from the considerations of a future state3 ,secondly1 the art of good manners has nothing to do with virtue or religion1 though it seldom clashes with either4 ,it is a science that is ever built on the same steady principle in our nature1 whatever the age or the climate may be in which it is practised4 ,hor4 ,how can any thing be said not to clash with virtue or religion1 that has nothing to do with either1 and consequently disclaims both8 ,cleo4 ,this1 ,i confess1 seems to be a paradox2 yet it is true4 ,the doctrine of good manners teaches men to speak well of all virtues1 but requires no more of them in any age or country1 than the outward appearance of those in fashion4 ,and as to sacred matters1 it is every where satisfied with seeming conformity in outward worship2 for all the religions in the universe are equally agreeable to good manners1 where they are national2 and pray what opinion must we say a teacher to be of1 to whom all opinions are probably alike8 ,all the precepts of good manners throughout the world have the same tendency1 and are no more than the various methods of making ourselves acceptable to others1 with as little prejudice to ourselves as is possible3 by which artifice we assist one another in the enjoyments of life1 and refining upon pleasure2 and every individual person is rendered more happy by it in the fruition of all the good things he can purchase1 than he could have been without such behaviour4 ,i mean happy1 in the sense of the voluptuous4 ,let us look back on old ,greece1 the ,roman empire1 or the great eastern nations that flourished before them1 and we shall find1 that luxury and politeness ever grew up together1 and were never enjoyed asunder2 that comfort and delight upon earth have always employed the wishes of the beau monde2 and that1 as their chief study and greatest solicitude1 to outward appearance1 have ever been directed to obtain happiness in this world1 so what would become of them in the next1 seems1 to the naked eye1 always to have been the least of their concern4 ,hor4 ,i thank you for your lecture3 you have satisfied me in several things1 which ,i had intended to ask3 ,but you have said some others1 that ,i must have time to consider2 after which ,i am resolved to wait upon you again2 for ,i begin to believe1 that1 concerning the knowledge of ourselves1 most books are either very defective or very deceitful4 ,cleo4 ,there is not a more copious1 nor a more faithful volume than human nature1 to those who will diligently peruse it2 and ,i sincerely believe1 that ,i have discovered nothing to you1 which1 if you had thought of it with attention1 you would not have found out yourself4 ,but ,i shall never be better pleased with myself1 than when ,i can contribute to any entertainment you shall think diverting4 ,,the ,,fourth ,,dialogue ,,between ,,horatio ,,and ,,cleomenes4 ,,cleomenes4 ,your servant4 ,hor4 ,what say you now1 ,cleomenes2 is it not this without ceremony8 ,cleo4 ,you are very obliging4 ,hor4 ,when they told me where you was1 ,i would suffer nobody to tell you who it was that wanted you1 or to come up with me4 ,cleo4 ,this is friendly1 indeed6 ,hor4 ,you see what a proficient ,i am3 ,in a little time you will teach me to lay aside all good manners4 ,cleo4 ,you make a fine tutor of me4 ,hor4 ,you will pardon me1 ,i know3 this study of yours is a very pretty place4 ,cleo4 ,i like it1 because the sun never enters it4 ,hor4 ,a very pretty room6 ,cleo4 ,shall we sit down in it8 ,it is the coolest room in the house4 ,hor4 ,with all my heart4 ,cleo4 ,i was in hopes to have seen you before now3 you have taken a long time to consider4 ,hor4 ,just eight days8 ,cleo4 ,have you thought on the novelty ,i started8 ,hor4 ,i have1 and think it not void of probability2 for that there are no innate ideas1 and men come into the world without any knowledge at all1 ,i am convinced of1 and therefore it is evident to me1 that all arts and sciences must once have had a beginning in somebody's brain1 whatever oblivion that may now be lost in4 ,i have thought twenty times since ,i saw you last1 on the origin of good manners1 and what a pleasant scene it would be to a man who is tolerably well versed in the world1 to see among a rude nation those first essays they made of concealing their pride from one another4 ,cleo4 ,you see by this1 that it is chiefly the novelty of things that strikes1 as well in begetting our aversion1 as in gaining our approbation2 and that we may look upon many indifferently1 when they come to be familiar to us1 though they were shocking when they were new4 ,you are now diverting yourself with a truth1 which eight days ago you would have given an hundred guineas not to have known4 ,hor4 ,i begin to believe there is nothing so absurd1 that it would appear to us to be such1 is we had been accustomed to it very young4 ,cleo4 ,in a tolerable education1 we are so industriously and so assiduously instructed1 from our most early infancy1 in the ceremonies of bowing1 and pulling off hats1 and other rules of behaviour1 that even before we are men we hardly look upon a mannerly deportment as a thing acquired1 or think conversation to be a science4 ,thousand things are called easy and natural in postures and motions1 as well as speaking and writing1 that have caused infinite pains to others as well as ourselves1 and which we know to be the product of art4 ,what awkward lumps have ,i known1 which the dancing-master has put limbs to6 ,hor4 ,yesterday morning as ,i sat musing by myself1 an expression of yours which ,i did not so much reflect upon at first1 when ,i heard it1 came into my head1 and made me smile4 ,speaking of the rudiments of good manners in an infant nation1 when they once entered upon concealing their pride1 you said1 that improvements would be made every day1 till some of them grew impudent enough1 not only to deny the high value they had for themselves1 but likewise to pretend that they had greater value for others than they had for themselves4 ,cleo4 ,it is certain1 that this every where must have been the forerunner of flattery4 ,hor4 ,when you talk of flattery and impudence1 what do you think of the first man that had the face to tell his equal1 that he was his humble servant8 ,cleo4 ,if that had been a new compliment1 ,i should have wondered much more at the simplicity of the proud man that swallowed1 than ,i would have done at the impudence of the knave that made it4 ,hor4 ,it certainly once was new3 which pray do you believe more ancient1 pulling off the hat1 or saying1 your humble servant8 ,cleo4 ,they are both of them ,gothic and modern4 ,hor4 ,i believe pulling off the hat was first1 it being the emblem of liberty4 ,cleo4 ,i do not think so3 for he who pulled of his hat the first time1 could not have been understood1 if saying your servant had not been practised3 and to show respect1 a man as well might have pulled off one of his shoes1 as his hat2 if saying1 your servant1 had not been an established and well-known compliment4 ,hor4 ,so he might1 as you say1 and had a better authority for the first1 than he could have for the latter4 ,cleo4 ,and to this day1 taking of the hat is a dumb show of a known civility in words3 ,mind now the power of custom1 and imbibed notions4 ,we both laugh at this ,gothic absurdity1 and are well assured1 that it must have had its origin from the basest flattery2 yet neither of us1 walking with our hats on1 could meet an acquaintance with whom we are not very familiar1 without showing this piece of civility2 nay1 it it would be a pain to us not to do it4 ,but we have no reason to think1 that the compliment of saying1 your servant1 began among equals2 but rather that1 flatterers having given it to princes1 it grew afterwards more common3 for all those postures and flexions of body and limbs1 had in all probability their rise from the adulation that was paid to conquerors and tyrants2 who1 having every body to fear1 were always alarmed at the least shadow of opposition1 and never better pleased than with submissive and defenceless postures3 and you see1 that they have all a tendency that way2 they promise security1 and are silent endeavours to ease and rid them1 not only of their fears1 but likewise every suspicion of harm approaching them3 such as lying prostrate on our faces1 touching the ground with our heads1 kneeling1 bowing low1 laying our hands upon our breasts1 or holding them behind us1 folding our arms together1 and all the cringes that can be made to demonstrate that we neither indulge our ease1 nor stand upon our guard4 ,these are evident signs and convincing proofs to a superior1 that we have a mean opinion of ourselves in respect to him1 that we are at his mercy1 and have no thought to resist1 much less to attack him2 and therefore it is highly probable1 that saying1 your servant1 and pulling off the hat1 were at first demonstrations of obedience to those that claimed it4 ,hor4 ,which in tract of time became more familiar1 and were made use of reciprocally in the way of civility4 ,cleo4 ,i believe so2 for as good manners increase1 we see1 that the highest compliments are made common1 and new ones to superiors invented instead of them4 ,hor4 ,so the word grace1 which not long ago was a title1 that none but our kings and queens were honoured with1 is devolved upon archbishops and dukes4 ,cleo4 ,it was the same with highness1 which is now given to the children1 and even the grandchildren of kings4 ,hor4 ,the dignity that is annexed to the signification of the word lord1 has been better preserved with us1 than in most countries3 in ,spanish1 ,italian1 high and low ,dutch1 it is prostituted to almost every body4 ,cleo4 ,it has had better fate in ,france2 where likewise the word sire has lost nothing of its majesty1 and is only used to the monarch3 whereas1 with us1 it is a compliment of address1 that may be made to a cobbler1 as well as to a king4 ,hor4 ,whatever alterations may be made in the sense of words1 by time2 yet1 as the world grows more polished1 flattery becomes less barefaced1 and the design of it upon man's pride is better disguised than it was formerly4 ,to praise a man to his face1 was very common among the ancients3 considering humility to be a virtue particularly required of ,christians1 ,i have often wondered how the fathers of the church could suffer those acclamations and applauses1 that were made to them whilst they were preaching2 and which1 though some of them spoke against them1 many of them appear to have been extremely fond of4 ,cleo4 ,human nature is always the same2 where men exert themselves to the utmost1 and take uncommon pains1 that spend and waste the spirits1 those applauses are very reviving the fathers who spoke against them1 spoke chiefly against the abuse of them4 ,hor4 ,it must have been very odd to hear people bawling out1 as often the greatest part of an audience did1 ,sophos1 divinitus1 non potest melius1 mirabiliter1 acriter1 ingeniose3 they told the preachers likewise that they were orthodox1 and sometimes called them1 apostolus decimus tertius4 ,cleo4 ,these words at the end of a period might have passed1 but the repetitions of them were often so loud and so general1 and the noise they made with their hands and feet1 so disturbing in and out of season1 that they could not hear a quarter of the the sermon2 yet several fathers owned that it was highly delightful1 and soothing human frailty4 ,hor4 ,the behaviour at churches is more decent1 as it is now4 ,cleo4 ,since paganism has been quite extinct in the old western world1 the zeal of ,christians is much diminished from what it was1 when they had many opposers3 the want of fervency had a great hand in abolishing that fashion4 ,hor4 ,but whether it was the fashion or not1 it must always have been shocking4 ,cleo4 ,do you think1 that the repeated acclamations1 the clapping1 stamping1 and the most extravagant tokens of applause1 that are now used at our several theatres1 were ever shocking to a favourite actor2 or that the huzzas of the mob1 or the hideous shouts of soldiers1 were ever shocking to persons of the highest distinction1 to whose honour they were made8 ,hor4 ,i have known princes that were very much tired with them4 ,cleo4 ,when they had too much of them2 but never at first4 ,in working a machine1 we ought to have regard to the strength of its frame3 limited creatures are not susceptible of infinite delight2 therefore we see1 that a pleasure protracted beyond its due bounds becomes a pain3 but where the custom of the country is not broken in upon1 no noise1 that is palpably made in our praise1 and which we may hear with decency1 can ever be ungrateful1 if it do not outlast a reasonable time2 but there is no cordial so sovereign1 that it may not become offensive1 by being taken to excess4 ,hor4 ,and the sweeter and more delicious liquors are1 the sooner they become fulsome1 and the less fit they are to sit by4 ,cleo4 ,your simile is not amiss2 and the same acclamations that are ravishing to a man at first1 and perhaps continue to give him an unspeakable delight for eight or nine minutes1 may become more moderately pleasing1 indifferent1 cloying1 troublesome1 and even so offensive as to create pain1 all in less than three hours1 if they were to continue so long without intermission4 ,hor4 ,there must be great witchcraft in sounds1 that they should have such different effects upon us1 as we often see they have4 ,cleo4 ,the pleasure we receive from acclamations1 is not in the hearing2 but proceeds from the opinion we form of the cause that produces those sounds1 the approbation of others4 ,at the theatres all over ,italy you have heard1 that1 when the whole audience demands silence and attention1 which there is an established mark of benevolence and applause1 the noise they make comes very near1 and is hardly to be distinguished from our hissing1 which with us is the plainest token of dislike and contempt3 and without doubt the cat-calls to affront ,faustina were far more agreeable to ,cozzoni1 than the most artful sounds she ever heard from her triumphant rival4 ,hor4 ,that was abominable6 ,cleo4 ,the ,turks show their respects to their sovereigns by a profound silence1 which is strictly kept throughout the seraglio1 and still more religiously observed the nearer you come to the ,sultan's apartment4 ,hor4 ,this latter is certainly the politer way of gratifying one's pride4 ,cleo4 ,all that depends upon mode and custom4 ,hor4 ,but the offerings that are made to a man's pride in silence1 may be enjoyed without the loss of his hearing1 which the other cannot4 ,cleo4 ,that is a trifle1 in the gratification of that passion3 we never enjoy higher pleasure1 from the appetite we would indulge1 than when we feel nothing from any other4 ,hor4 ,but silence expresses greater homage1 and deeper veneration1 than noise4 ,cleo4 ,it is good to sooth the pride of a drone2 but an active man loves to have that passion roused1 and as it were kept awake1 whilst it is gratified2 and approbation from noise is more unquestionable than the other3 however1 ,i will not determine between them2 much may be said on both sides4 ,the ,greeks and ,romans used sounds1 to stir up men to noble actions1 with great success2 and the silence observed among the ,ottomans has kept them very well in the slavish submission which their sovereigns require of them3 perhaps the one does better where absolute power is lodged in one person1 and the other where there is some show of liberty4 ,both are proper tools to flatter the pride of man1 when they are understood and made use of as such4 ,i have known a very brave man used to the shouts of war1 and highly delighted with loud applause1 be very angry with his butler1 for making a little rattling with his plates4 ,hor4 ,an old aunt of mine the other day turned away a very clever fellow1 for not walking upon his toes2 and ,i must own myself1 that the stamping of footmen1 and all unmannerly loudness of servants1 are very offensive to me2 though ,i never entered into the reason of it before now4 ,in our last conversation1 when you described the symptoms of self-liking1 and what the behaviour would be of an uncivilized man1 you named laughing3 ,i know it is one of the characteristics of our species2 pray do you take that to be likewise the result of pride8 ,cleo4 ,hobbes is of that opinion1 and in most instances it might be derived from thence2 but there are some phenomena not to be explained by that hypothesis2 therefore ,i would choose to say1 that laughter is a mechanical motion1 which we are naturally thrown into when we are unaccountably pleased4 ,when our pride is feelingly gratified2 when we hear or see any thing which we admire or approve of2 or when we are indulging any other passion or appetite1 and the reason why we are pleased seems to be just and worthy1 we are then far from laughing3 but when things or actions are odd and out of the way1 and happen to please us when we can give no just reason why they should do so1 it is then1 generally speaking1 that they make us laugh4 ,hor4 ,i would rather side with what you said was ,hobbes's opinion3 for the things we commonly laugh at are such as are some way or other mortifying1 unbecoming1 or prejudicial to others4 ,cleo4 ,but what will you say to tickling1 which will make an infant laugh that is deaf and blind8 ,hor4 ,can you account for that by your system8 ,cleo4 ,not to my satisfaction2 but ,i will tell you what might be said for it4 ,we know by experience1 that the smoother1 the softer1 and the more sensible the skin is1 the more ticklish persons are1 generally speaking3 we know likewise1 that things rough1 sharp1 and hard1 when they touch the skin1 are displeasing to us1 even before they give pain and that1 on the contrary1 every thing applied to the skin that is soft and smooth1 and not otherwise offensive1 is delightful4 ,it is possible that gentle touches being impressed on several nervous filaments at once1 every one of them producing a pleasing sensation1 may create that confused pleasure which is the occasion of laughter4 ,hor4 ,but how came you to think of mechanic motion1 in the pleasure of a free agent8 ,cleo4 ,whatever free agency we may pretend to in the forming of ideas1 the effect of them upon the body is independent of the will4 ,nothing is more directly opposite to laughing than frowning3 the one draws wrinkles on the fore-head1 knits the brows1 and keeps the mouth shut3 the other does quite the reverse2 exporrigere frontem1 you know1 is a ,latin phrase for being merry4 ,in sighing1 the muscles of the belly and breast are pulled inward1 and the diaphragm is pulled upward more than ordinary2 and we seem to endeavour1 though in vain1 to squeeze and compress the heart1 whilst we draw in our breath in a forcible manner2 and when1 in that squeezing posture1 we have taken in as much air as we can contain1 we throw it out with the same violence we sucked it in with1 and at the same time give a sudden relaxation to all the muscles we employed before4 ,nature certainly designed this for something in the labour for self-preservation which she forces upon us4 ,how mechanically do all creatures that can make any sound1 cry out1 and complain in great afflictions1 as well as pain and imminent danger6 ,in great torments1 the efforts of nature are so violent that way1 that1 to disappoint her1 and prevent the discovery of what we feel by sounds1 and which she bids us make1 we are forced to draw our mouth into a purse1 or else suck in our breath1 bite our lips1 or squeeze them close together1 and use the most effectual means to hinder the air from coming out4 ,in grief we sigh1 in mirth we laugh3 in the latter little stress is laid upon the respiration1 and this is performed with less regularity than it is at any other time2 all the muscles without1 and every thing within feel loose1 and seem to have no other motion than what is communicated to them by the convulsive shakes of laughter4 ,hor4 ,i have seen people laugh till they lost all their strength4 ,cleo4 ,how much is all this the reverse of what we observe in sighing6 ,when pain or depth of woe make us cry out1 the mouth is drawn round1 or at least into an oval2 the lips are thrusted forward without touching each other1 and the tongue is pulled in1 which is the reason that all nations1 when they exclaim1 cry1 ,oh6 ,hor4 ,why pray6 ,cleo4 ,because whilst the mouth1 lips1 and tongue1 remain in those postures1 they can sound no other vowel1 and no consonant at all4 ,in laughing1 the lips are pulled back1 and strained to draw the mouth in its fullest length4 ,hor4 ,i would not have you lay a great stress upon that1 for it is the same in weeping1 which is an undoubted sign of sorrow4 ,cleo4 ,in great afflictions1 where the heart is oppressed1 and anxieties which we endeavour to resist1 few people can weep2 but when they do1 it removes the oppression1 and sensibly relieves them3 for then their resistance is gone2 and weeping in distress is not so much a sign of sorrow as it is an indication that we can bear our sorrow no longer2 and therefore it is counted unmanly to weep1 because it seems to give up our strength1 and is a kind of yielding to our grief4 ,but the action of weeping itself is not more peculiar to grief than it is to joy in adult people2 and there are men who show great fortitude in afflictions1 and bear the greatest misfortunes with dry eyes1 that will cry heartily at a moving scene in a play4 ,some are easily wrought upon by one thing1 others are sooner affected with another2 but whatever touches us so forcibly1 as to overwhelm the mind1 prompts us to weep1 and is the mechanical cause of tears2 and therefore1 besides grief1 joy1 and pity1 there are other things no way relating to ourselves1 that may have this effect upon us2 such as the relations of surprising events and sudden turns of ,providence in behalf of merit2 instances of heroism1 of generosity2 in love1 in friendship in an enemy2 or the hearing or reading of noble thoughts and sentiments of humanity2 more especially if these things are conveyed to us suddenly1 in an agreeable manner1 and unlooked for1 as well as lively expressions4 ,we shall observe1 likewise1 that none are more subject to this frailty of shedding tears on such foreign accounts1 than persons of ingenuity and quick apprehension2 and those among them that are most benevolent1 generous1 and open-hearted2 whereas1 the dull and stupid1 the cruel1 selfish1 and designing1 are very seldom troubled with it4 ,weeping1 therefore1 in earnest1 is always a sure and involuntary demonstration that something strikes and overcomes the mind1 whatever that be which affects it4 ,we find likewise1 that outward violence1 as sharp winds and smoke1 the effluvia of onions1 and other volatile salts1 c4 have the same effect upon the external fibres of the lachrymal ducts and glands that are exposed1 which the sudden swelling and pressure of the spirits has upon those within4 ,the ,divine ,wisdom is in nothing more conspicuous than in the infinite variety of living creatures of different construction2 every part of them being contrived with stupendous skill1 and fitted with the utmost accuracy for the different purposes they were designed for4 ,the human body1 above all1 is a most astonishing master piece of art3 the anatomist may have a perfect knowledge of all the bones and their ligaments1 the muscles and their tendons1 and be able to dissect every nerve and every membrane with great exactness2 the naturalist1 likewise1 may dive a great way into the inward economy1 and different symptoms of health and sickness3 they may all approve of1 and admire the curious machine2 but no man can have a tolerable idea of the contrivance1 the art1 and the beauty of the workmanship itself1 even in those things he can see1 without being likewise versed in geometry and mechanics4 ,hor4 ,how long is it ago that mathematics were brought into physic8 that art1 ,i have heard1 is brought to great certainty by them4 ,cleo4 ,what you speak of is quite another thing4 ,mathematics never had1 nor ever can have1 any thing to do with physic1 if you mean by it the art of curing the sick4 ,the structure and motions of the body1 may perhaps be mechanically accounted for1 and all fluids are under the laws of hydrostatics2 but we can have no help from any part of the mechanics in the discovery of things1 infinitely remote from sight1 and entirely unknown as to their shapes and bulks4 ,physicians1 with the rest of mankind1 are wholly ignorant of the first principles and constituent parts of things1 in which all the virtues and properties of them consist2 and this1 as well of the blood and other juices of the body1 as the simples1 and consequently all the medicines they make use of4 ,there is no art that has less certainty than theirs1 and the most valuable knowledge in it arises from observation1 and is such1 as a man of parts and application1 who has fitted himself for that study1 can only be possessed of after a long and judicious experience4 ,but the pretence to mathematics1 or the usefulness of it in the cure of diseases1 is a cheat1 and as arrant a piece of quackery as a stage and a ,merry-,andrew4 ,hor4 ,but since there is so much skill displayed in the bones1 muscles1 and grosser parts1 is it not reasonable to think1 that there is no less art bestowed on those that are beyond the reach of our senses8 ,cleo4 ,i nowise doubt it3 ,microscopes have opened a new world to us1 and ,i am far from thinking1 that nature should leave off her work where we can trace her no further4 ,i am persuaded that our thoughts1 and the affections of the mind1 have a more certain and more mechanical influence upon several parts of the body than has been hitherto or1 in all human probability1 ever will be discovered4 ,the visible effect they have on the eyes and muscles of the face1 must show the least attentive the reason ,i have for this assertion4 ,when in mens company we are upon our guard1 and would preserve our dignity1 the lips are shut and the jaws meet2 the muscles of the mouth are gently braced1 and the rest all over the face are kept firmly in their places3 turn away from these into another room1 where you meet with a fine young lady that is affable and easy2 immediately1 before you think on it1 your countenance will be strangely altered2 and without being conscious of having done any thing to your face1 you will have quite another look2 and every body that has observed you1 will discover in it more sweetness and less severity than you had the moment before4 ,when we suffer the lower jaw to sink down1 the mouth opens a little3 if in this posture we look straight before us1 without fixing our eyes on any thing1 we may imitate the countenance of a natural2 by dropping1 as it were1 our features1 and laying no stress on any muscle of the face4 ,infants1 before they have learned to swallow their spittle1 generally keep their mouths open1 and are always drivelling3 in them1 before they show any understanding1 and whilst it is yet very confused1 the muscles of the face are1 as it were1 relaxed1 the lower jaw falls down1 and the fibres of the lips are unbraced2 at least1 these phenomena we observe in them1 during that time1 more often than we do afterwards4 ,in extreme old age1 when people begin to doat1 those symptoms return2 and in most idiots they continue to be observed1 as long as they live3 ,hence it is that we say1 that a man wants a slabbering-bib1 when he behaves very sillily or talks like a natural fool4 ,when we reflect on all this1 on the one hand1 and consider on the other1 that none are less prone to anger than idiots1 and no creatures are less affected with pride1 ,i would ask1 whether there is not some degree of self-liking1 that mechanically influences1 and seems to assist us in the decent wearing of our faces4 ,hor4 ,i cannot resolve you2 what ,i know very well is1 that by these conjectures on the mechanism of man1 ,i find my understanding very little informed3 ,i wonder how we came upon the subject4 ,cleo4 ,you inquired into the origin of risibility1 which nobody can give an account of1 with any certainty2 and in such cases every body is at liberty to make guesses1 so they draw no conclusions from them to the prejudice of any thing better established4 ,but the chief design ,i had in giving you these indigested thoughts1 was to hint to you1 how really mysterious the works of nature are2 ,i mean1 how replete they are every where1 with a power glaringly conspicuous1 and yet incomprehensible beyond all human reach2 in order to demonstrate1 that more useful knowledge may be acquired from unwearied observation1 judicious experience1 and arguing from facts posteriori1 than from the haughty attempts of entering into first causes1 and reasoning priori4 ,i do not believe there is a man in the world of that sagacity1 if he was wholly unacquainted with the nature of a spring-watch1 that he would ever find out by dint of penetration the cause of its motion1 if he was never to see the inside3 but every middling capacity may be certain1 by seeing only the outside1 that its pointing at the hour1 and keeping to time1 proceed from the exactness of some curious workmanship that is hid2 and that the motion of the hands1 what number of resorts soever it is communicated by1 is originally owing to something else that first moves within4 ,in the same manner we are sure1 that as the effects of thought upon the body are palpable1 several motions are produced by it1 by contact1 and consequently mechanically3 but the parts1 the instruments which that operation is performed with1 are so immensely far remote from our senses2 and the swiftness of the action is so prodigious1 that it infinitely surpasses our capacity to trace them4 ,hor4 ,but is not thinking the business of the soul8 ,what has mechanism to do with that8 ,cleo4 ,the soul1 whilst in the body1 cannot be said to think1 otherwise than an architect is said to build a house1 where the carpenters1 bricklayers1 c4 do the work1 which he chalks out and superintends4 ,hor4 ,which part of the brain do you think the soul to be more immediately lodged in2 or do you take it to be diffused through the whole8 ,cleo4 ,i know nothing of it more than what ,i have told you already4 ,hor4 ,i plainly feel that this operation of thinking is a labour1 or at least something that is transacting in my head1 and not in my leg nor my arm3 what insight or real knowledge have we from anatomy concerning it8 ,cleo4 ,none at all priori3 the most consummate anatomist knows no more of it than a butcher's apprentice4 ,we may admire the curious duplicate of coats1 and close embroidery of veins and arteries that environ the brain3 but when dissecting it we have viewed the several pairs of nerves1 with their origin1 and taken notice of some glands of various shapes and sizes1 which differing from the brain in substance1 could not but rush in view2 when these1 ,i say1 have been taken notice of1 and distinguished by different names1 some of them not very pertinent1 and less polite1 the best naturalist must acknowledge1 that even of these large visible parts there are but few1 the nerves and blood-vessels excepted1 at the use of which he can give any tolerable guesses3 but as to the mysterious structure of the brain itself1 and the more abstruse economy of it1 that he knows nothing2 but that the whole seems to be a medullary substance1 compactly treasured up in infinite millions of imperceptible cells1 that1 disposed in an unconceivable order1 are cluttered together in a perplexing variety of folds and windings4 ,he will add1 perhaps1 that it is reasonable to think this to be the capacious exchequer of human knowledge1 in which the faithful senses deposit the vast treasure of images1 constantly1 as through their organs they receive them2 that it is the office in which the spirits are separated from the blood1 and afterwards sublimed and volatilized into particles hardly corporeal2 and that the most minute of these are always1 either searching for1 or variously disposing the images retained1 and shooting through the infinite meanders of that wonderful substance1 employ themselves1 without ceasing1 in that inexplicable performance1 the contemplation of which fills the most exalted genius with amazement4 ,hor4 ,these are very airy conjectures2 but nothing of all this can be proved3 ,the smallness of the parts1 you will say1 is the reason2 but if greater improvements were made in optic glasses1 and microscopes could be invented that magnified objects three or four millions of times more than they do now1 then certainly those minute particles1 so immensely remote from the senses you speak of1 might be observed1 if that which does the work is corporeal at all4 ,cleo4 ,that such improvements are impossible1 is demonstrable2 but if it was not1 even then we could have little help from anatomy4 ,the brain of an animal cannot be looked and searched into whilst it is alive4 ,should you take the main spring out of a watch1 and leave the barrel that contained it standing empty1 it would be impossible to find out what it had been that made it exert itself1 whilst it showed the time4 ,we might examine all the wheels1 and every other part belonging either to the movement or the motion1 and1 perhaps1 find out the use of them1 in relation to the turning of the hands2 but the first cause of this labour would remain a mystery for ever4 ,hor4 ,the main spring in us is the soul1 which is immaterial and immortal3 but what is that to other creatures that have a brain like ours1 and no such immortal substance distinct from body8 ,do not you believe that dogs and horses think8 ,cleo4 ,i believe they do1 though in a degree of perfection far inferior to us4 ,hor4 ,what is it that superintends thought in them8 where must we look for it8 which is the main spring8 ,cleo4 ,i can answer you no otherwise1 than life4 ,hor4 ,what is life8 ,cleo4 ,every body understands the meaning of the word1 though1 perhaps1 nobody knows the principle of life1 that part which gives motion to all the rest4 ,hor4 ,where men are certain that the truth of a thing is not to be known1 they will always differ1 and endeavour to impose upon one another4 ,cleo4 ,whilst there are fools and knaves1 they will2 but ,i have not imposed upon you3 what ,i said of the labour of the brain1 ,i told you1 was a conjecture1 which ,i recommend no farther to you than you shall think it probable4 ,you ought to expect no demonstration of a thing1 that from its nature can admit of none4 ,when the breath is gone1 and the circulation ceased1 the inside of an animal is vastly different from what it was whilst the lungs played1 and the blood and juices were in full motion through every part of it4 ,you have seen those engines that raise water by the help of fire2 the steam you know1 is that which forces it up2 it is as impossible to see the volatile particles that perform the labour of the brain1 when the creature is dead1 as in the engine it would be to see the steam 7which yet does all the work71 when the fire is out and the water cold4 ,yet if this engine was shown to a man when it was not at work1 and it was explained to him1 which way it raised the water1 it would be a strange incredulity1 or great dullness of apprehension1 not to believe it2 if he knew perfectly well1 that by heat1 liquids may be rarified into vapour4 ,hor4 ,but do not you think there is a difference in souls2 and are they all equally good or equally bad8 ,cleo4 ,we have some tolerable ideas of matter and motion2 or1 at least1 of what we mean by them1 and therefore we may form ideas of things corporeal1 though they are beyond the reach of our senses2 and we can conceive any portion of matter a thousand times less than our eyes1 even by the help of the best microscopes1 are able to see it3 but the soul is altogether incomprehensible1 and we can determine but little about it1 that is not revealed to us4 ,i believe that the difference of capacities in men1 depends upon1 and is entirely owing to the difference there is between them1 either in the fabric itself1 that is1 the greater or lesser exactness in the composure of their frame1 or else in the use that is made of it4 ,the brain of a child1 newly born1 is carte blanche2 and1 as you have hinted very justly1 we have no ideas1 which we are not obliged for to our senses4 ,i make no question1 but that in this rummaging of the spirits through the brain1 in hunting after1 joining1 separating1 changing1 and compounding of ideas with inconceivable swiftness1 under the superintendency of the soul1 the action of thinking consists4 ,the best thing1 therefore1 we can do to infants after the first month1 besides feeding and keeping them from harm1 is to make them take in ideas1 beginning by the two most useful senses1 the sight and hearing2 and dispose them to set about this labour of the brain1 and by our example encourage them to imitate us in thinking2 which1 on their side1 is very poorly performed at first4 ,therefore the more an infant in health is talked to and jumbled about1 the better it is for it1 at least1 for the first two years2 and for its attendance in this early education1 to the wisest matron in the world1 ,i would prefer an active young wench1 whose tongue never stands still1 that should run about1 and never cease diverting and playing with it whilst it was awake2 and where people can afford it1 two or three of them1 to relieve one another when they are tired1 are better than one4 ,hor4 ,then you think children reap great benefit from the nonsensical chat of nurses8 ,cleo4 ,it is of inestimable use to them1 and teaches them to think1 as well as speak1 much sooner and better1 than with equal aptitude of parts they would do without4 ,the business is to make them exert those faculties1 and keep infants continually employed about them2 for the time which is lost then1 is never to be retrieved4 ,hor4 ,yet we seldom remember any thing of what we saw or heard1 before we were two years old3 then what would be lost1 if children should not hear all that impertinence8 ,cleo4 ,as iron is to be hammered whilst it is hot and ductile1 so children are to be taught when they are young3 as the flesh and every tube and membrane about them1 are then tenderer1 and will yield sooner to slight impressions1 than afterwards2 so many of their bones are but cartilages1 and the brain itself is much softer1 and in a manner fluid4 ,this is the reason1 that it cannot so well retain the images it receives1 as it does afterwards1 when the substance of it comes to be of a better consistence4 ,but as the first images are lost1 so they are continually succeeded by new ones2 and the brain at first serves as a slate to cypher1 or a sampler to work upon4 ,what infants should chiefly learn1 is the performance itself1 the exercise of thinking1 and to contract a habit of disposing1 and with ease and agility managing the images retained1 to the purpose intended2 which is never attained better than whilst the matter is yielding1 and the organs are most flexible and supple4 ,so they but exercise themselves in thinking and speaking1 it is no matter what they think on1 or what they say1 that is inoffensive4 ,in sprightly infants1 we soon see by their eyes the efforts they are making to imitate us1 before they are able2 and that they try at this exercise of the brain1 and make essays to think1 as well as they do to hammer out words1 we may know from the incoherence of their actions1 and the strange absurdities they utter3 but as there are more degrees of thinking well1 than there are of speaking plain1 the first is of the greatest consequence4 ,hor4 ,i wonder you should talk of teaching1 and lay so great a stress on a thing that comes so naturally to us1 as thinking3 no action is performed with greater velocity by every body3 as quick as thought1 is a proverb1 and in less than a moment a stupid peasant may remove his ideas from ,london to ,japan1 as easily as the greatest wit4 ,cleo4 ,yet there is nothing1 in which men differ so immensely from one another1 as they do in the exercise of this faculty3 the differences between them in height1 bulk1 strength1 and beauty1 are trifling in comparison to that which ,i speak of2 and there is nothing in the world more valuable1 or more plainly perceptible in persons1 than a happy dexterity of thinking4 ,two men may have equal knowledge1 and yet the one shall speak as well off-hand1 as the other can after two hours study4 ,hor4 ,i take it for granted1 that no man would study two hours for a speech1 if he knew how to make it in less2 and therefore ,i cannot see what reason you have to suppose two such persons to be of equal knowledge4 ,cleo4 ,there is a double meaning in the word knowing1 which you seem not to attend to4 ,there is a great difference between knowing a violin when you see it1 and knowing how to play upon it4 ,the knowledge ,i speak of is of the first sort2 and if you consider it in that sense1 you must be of my opinion2 for no study can fetch any thing out of the brain that is not there4 ,suppose you conceive a short epistle in three minutes1 which another1 who can make letters and join them together as fast as yourself1 is yet an hour about1 though both of you write the same thing1 it is plain to me1 that the slow person knows as much as you do2 at least it does not appear that he knows less4 ,he has received the same images1 but he cannot come at them1 or at least not dispose them in that order1 so soon as yourself4 ,when we see two exercises of equal goodness1 either in prose or verse1 if the one is made ex tempore1 and we are sure of it1 and the other has cost two days labour1 the author of the first is a person of finer natural parts than the other1 though their knowledge1 for ought we know1 is the same4 ,you see1 then1 the difference between knowledge1 as it signifies the treasure of images received1 and knowledge1 or rather skill1 to find out those images when we want them1 and work them readily to our purpose4 ,hor4 ,when we know a thing1 and cannot readily think of it1 or bring it to mind1 ,i thought that was the fault of the memory4 ,cleo4 ,so it may be in part3 but there are men of prodigious reading1 that have likewise great memories1 who judge ill1 and seldom say any thing a propos1 or say it when it is too late4 ,among the belluones librorum1 the cormorants of books1 there are wretched reasoners1 that have canine appetites1 and no digestion4 ,what numbers of learned fools do we not meet with in large libraries2 from whose works it is evident1 that knowledge must have lain in their heads1 as furniture at an upholder's2 and the treasure of the brain was a burden to them instead of an ornament6 ,all this proceeds from a defect in the faculty of thinking2 an unskilfulness1 and want of aptitude in managing1 to the best advantage1 the ideas we have received4 ,we see others1 on the contrary1 that have very fine sense1 and no literature at all4 ,the generality of women are quicker of invention1 and more ready at repartee1 than the men1 with equal helps of education2 and it is surprising to see1 what a considerable figure some of them make in conversation1 when we consider the small opportunities they have had of acquiring knowledge4 ,hor4 ,but sound judgment is a great rarity among them4 ,cleo4 ,only for want of practice1 application1 and assiduity4 ,thinking on abstruse matters1 is not their province in life2 and as the stations they are commonly placed in find them other employment2 but there is no labour of the brain which women are not as capable of performing1 at least as well as the men1 with the same assistance1 if they set about1 and persevere in it3 sound judgment is no more than the result of that labour3 he that uses himself to take things to pieces1 to compare them together1 to consider them abstractly and impartially2 that is1 he who of two propositions he is to examine seems not to care which is true2 he that lays the whole stress of his mind on every part alike1 and puts the same thing in all the views it can be seen in3 he1 ,i say1 that employs himself most often in this exercise1 is most likely cteris paribus to acquire what we call a sound judgment4 ,the workmanship in the make of women seems to be more elegant1 and better finished3 the features are more delicate1 the voice is sweeter1 the whole outside of them is more curiously wove1 than they are in men2 and the difference in the skin between theirs and ours is the same1 as there is between fine cloth and coarse4 ,there is no reason to imagine1 that nature should have been more neglectful of them out of sight1 than she has where we can trace her2 and not have taken the same care of them in the formation1 of the brain1 as to the nicety of the structure1 and superior accuracy in the fabric1 which is so visible in the rest of their frame4 ,hor4 ,beauty is their attribute1 as strength is ours4 ,cleo4 ,how minute soever those particles of the brain are1 that contain the several images1 and are assisting in the operation of thinking1 there must be a difference in the justness1 the symmetry1 and exactness of them between one person and another1 as well as there is in the grosser parts3 what the women excel us in1 then1 is the goodness of the instrument1 either in the harmony or pliableness of the organs1 which must be very material in the art of thinking1 and is the only thing that deserves the name of natural parts1 since the aptitude ,i have spoke of1 depending upon exercise1 is notoriously acquired4 ,hor4 ,as the workmanship in the brain is rather more curious in women than it is in men1 so1 in sheep and oxen1 dogs and horses1 ,i suppose it is infinitely coarser4 ,cleo4 ,we have no reason to think otherwise1 ,hor4 ,but after all1 that self1 that part of us that wills and wishes1 that chooses one thing rather than another1 must be incorporeal3 ,for if it is matter1 it must either be one single particle1 which ,i can almost feel it is not1 or a combination of many1 which is more than inconceivable4 ,cleo4 ,i do not deny what you say2 and that the principle of thought and action is inexplicable in all creatures ,i have hinted already3 ,but its being incorporeal does not mend the matter1 as to the difficulty of explaining or conceiving it4 ,that there must be a mutual contact between this principle1 whatever it is1 and the body itself1 is what we are certain of posteriori2 and a reciprocal action upon each other1 between an immaterial substance and matter1 is as incomprehensible to human capacity1 as that thought should be the result of matter and motion4 ,hor4 ,though many other animals seem to be endued with thought1 there is no creature we are acquainted with1 besides man1 that shows or seems to feel a consciousness of his thinking4 ,cleo4 ,it is not easy to determine what instincts1 properties1 or capacities other creatures are either possessed or destitute of1 when those qualifications fall not under our senses3 ,but it is highly probable1 that the principal and most necessary parts of the machine are less elaborate in animals1 that attain to all the perfection they are capable of in three1 four1 five1 or six years at furthest1 than they are in a creature that hardly comes to maturity1 its full growth and strength in five and twenty4 ,the consciousness of a man of fifty1 that he is the same man that did such a thing at twenty1 and was once the boy that had such and such masters1 depends wholly upon the memory1 and can never be traced to the bottom3 ,i mean1 that no man remembers any thing of himself1 or what was transacted before he was two years old1 when he was but a novice in the art of thinking1 and the brain was not yet of a due consistence to retain long the images it received3 ,but this remembrance1 how far soever it may reach1 gives us no greater surety of ourselves1 than we should have of another that had been brought up with us1 and never above a week or a month out of sight4 ,a mother1 when her son is thirty years old1 has more reason to know that he is the same whom she brought into the world than himself2 and such a one1 who daily minds her son1 and remembers the alterations of his features from time to time1 is more certain of him that he was not changed in the cradle1 than she can be of herself4 ,so that all we can know of this consciousness1 is1 that it consists in1 or is the result of the running and rummaging of the spirits through all the mazes of the brain1 and their looking there for facts concerning ourselves3 ,he that has lost his memory1 though otherwise in perfect health1 cannot think better than a fool1 and is no more conscious that he is the same he was a-year ago1 than he is of a man whom he has known but a fortnight4 ,there are several degrees of losing our memory2 but he who has entirely lost it becomes1 ipso facto1 an idiot4 ,hor4 ,i am conscious of having been the occasion of our rambling a great way from the subject we were upon1 but ,i do not repent of it3 ,what you have said of the economy of the brain1 and the mechanical influence of thought upon the grosser parts1 is a noble theme for contemplation on the infinite unutterable wisdom with which the various instincts are so visibly planted in all animals1 to fit them for the respective purposes they were designed for2 and every appetite is so wonderfully interwove with the very substance of their frame4 ,nothing could be more seasonable1 after you had showed me the origin of politeness1 and in the management of self-liking1 set forth the excellency of our species beyond all other animals so conspicuously in the superlative docility and indefatigable industry1 by which all multitudes are capable of drawing innumerable benefits1 as well for the ease and comfort1 as the welfare and safety of congregate bodies1 from a most stubborn and an unconquerable passion1 which1 in its nature1 seems to be destructive to sociableness and society1 and never fails1 in untaught men1 to render them insufferable to one another4 ,cleo4 ,by the same method of reasoning from facts posteriori1 that has laid open to us the nature and usefulness of self-liking1 all the rest of the passions may easily be accounted for1 and become intelligible4 ,it is evident1 that the necessaries of life stand not every where ready dished up before all creatures2 therefore they have instincts that prompt them to look out for those necessaries1 and teach them how to come at them4 ,the zeal and alacrity to gratify their appetites1 is always proportioned to the strength1 and the degree of force with which those instincts work upon every creature3 ,but1 considering the disposition of things upon earth1 and the multiplicity of animals that have all their own wants to supply1 it must be obvious1 that these attempts of creatures1 to obey the different calls of nature1 will be often opposed and frustrated1 and that1 in many animals1 they would seldom meet with success1 if every individual was not endued with a passion1 that1 summoning all his strength1 inspired him with a transporting eagerness to overcome the obstacles that hinder him in his great work of self-preservation4 ,the passion ,i describe is called anger4 ,how a creature possessed of this passion and self-liking1 when he sees others enjoy what he wants1 should be affected with envy1 can likewise be no mystery4 ,after labour1 the most savage1 and the most industrious creature seeks rest3 ,hence we learn1 that all of them are furnished1 more or less1 with a love of ease3 ,exerting their strength tires them2 and the loss of spirits1 experience teaches us1 is best repaired by food and sleep4 ,we see that creatures1 who1 in their way of living1 must meet with the greatest opposition1 have the greatest share of anger1 and are born with offensive arms4 ,if this anger was to employ a creature always1 without consideration of the danger he exposed himself to1 he would soon be destroyed3 ,for this reason1 they are all endued with fear2 and the lion himself turns tail1 if the hunters are armed1 and too numerous4 ,from what we observe in the behaviour of brutes1 we have reason to think1 that among the more perfect animals1 those of the same species have a capacity1 on many occasions1 to make their wants known to one another2 and we are sure of several1 not only that they understand one another1 but likewise that they may be made to understand us4 ,in comparing our species with that of other animals1 when we consider the make of man1 and the qualifications that are obvious in him1 his superior capacity in the faculties of thinking and reflecting beyond other creatures1 his being capable of learning to speak1 and the usefulness of his hands and fingers1 there is no room to doubt1 that he is more fit for society than any other animal we know4 ,hor4 ,since you wholly reject my ,lord ,shaftsbury's system1 ,i wish you would give me your opinion at large concerning society1 and the sociableness of man2 and ,i will hearken to you with great attention4 ,cleo4 ,the cause of sociableness in man1 that is1 his fitness for society1 is no such abstruse matter3 ,a person of middling capacity1 that has some experience1 and a tolerable knowledge of human nature1 may soon find it out1 if his desire of knowing the truth be sincere1 and he will look for it without prepossession2 but most people that have treated on this subject1 had a turn to serve1 and a cause in view1 which they were resolved to maintain4 ,it is very unworthy of a philosopher to say1 as ,hobbes did1 that man is born unfit for society1 and allege no better reason for it1 than the incapacity that infants come into the world with2 but some of his adversaries have as far overshot the mark1 when they asserted1 that every thing which man can attain to1 ought to be esteemed as a cause of his fitness for society4 ,hor4 ,but is there in the mind of man a natural affection1 that prompts him to love his species beyond what other animals have for theirs2 or1 are we born with hatred and aversion1 that makes us wolves and bears to one another8 ,cleo4 ,i believe neither4 ,from what appears to us in human affairs1 and the works of nature1 we have more reason to imagine1 that the desire1 as well as aptness of man to associate1 do not proceed from his love to others1 than we have to believe that a mutual affection of the planets to one another1 superior to what they feel to stars more remote1 is not the true cause why they keep always moving together in the same solar system4 ,hor4 ,you do not believe that the stars have any love for one another1 ,i am sure3 ,then why more reason8 ,cleo4 ,because there are no phenomena plainly to contradict this love of the planets2 and we meet with thousands every day to convince us1 that man centres every thing in himself1 and neither loves nor hates1 but for his own sake4 ,every individual is a little world by itself1 and all creatures1 as far as their understanding and abilities will let them1 endeavour to make that self happy3 ,this1 in all of them1 is the continual labour1 and seems to be the whole design of life4 ,hence it follows1 that in the choice of things1 men must be determined by the perception they have of happiness2 and no person can commit1 or set about an action1 which1 at that then present time1 seems not to be the best to him4 ,hor4 ,what will you then say to1 video meliora proboque1 deteriora sequor8 ,cleo4 ,that only shows the turpitude of our inclinations4 ,but men may say what they please3 ,every motion in a free agent1 which he does not approve of1 is either convulsive1 or it is not his2 ,i speak of those that are subject to the will4 ,when two things are left to a person's choice1 it is a demonstration that he thinks that most eligible which he chooses1 how contradictory1 impertinent1 or pernicious soever his reason for choosing it may be3 ,without this1 there could be no voluntary suicide2 and it would be injustice to punish men for their crimes4 ,hor4 ,i believe every body endeavours to be pleased2 but it is inconceivable that creatures of the same species should differ so much from one another1 as men do in their notions of pleasure2 and that some of them should take delight in what is the greatest aversion to others3 ,all aim at happiness2 but the question is1 ,where is it to be found8 ,cleo4 ,it is with complete felicity in this world1 as it is with the philosopher's stone3 ,both have been sought after many different ways1 by wise men as well as fools1 though neither of them has been obtained hitherto3 ,but in searching after either1 diligent inquirers have often stumbled by chance on useful discoveries of things they did not look for1 and which human sagacity1 labouring with design priori1 never would have detected4 ,multitudes of our species may1 in any habitable part of the globe1 assist one another in a common defence1 and be raised into a politic body1 in which men shall live comfortably together for many centuries1 without being acquainted with a thousand things1 that if known1 would every one of them be instrumental to render the happiness of the public more complete1 according to the common notions men have of happiness4 ,in one part of the world1 we have found great and flourishing nations that knew nothing of ships2 and in others1 traffic by sea had been in use above two thousand years1 and navigation had received innumerable improvements1 before they knew how to sail by the help of the loadstone3 ,it would be ridiculous to allege this piece of knowledge1 either as a reason why man first chose to go to sea1 or as an argument to prove his natural capacity for maritime affairs4 ,to raise a garden1 it is necessary that we should have a soil and a climate fit for that purpose4 ,when we have these1 we want nothing besides patience1 but the seeds of vegetables and proper culture4 ,fine walks and canals1 statues1 summer-houses1 fountains1 and cascades1 are great improvements on the delights of nature2 but they are not essential to the existence of a garden4 ,all nations must have had mean beginnings2 and it is in those1 the infancy of them1 that the sociableness of man is as conspicuous as it can be ever after4 ,man is called a sociable creature chiefly for two reasons3 ,first1 because it is commonly imagined that he is naturally more fond and desirous of society1 than any other creature4 ,secondly1 because it is manifest1 that associating in men turns to better account than it possibly could do in other animals1 if they were to attempt it4 ,hor4 ,but why do you say of the first1 that it is commonly imagined2 is it not true then8 ,cleo4 ,i have a very good reason for this caution4 ,all men born in society1 are certainly more desirous of it than any other animal2 but whether man be naturally so1 that is a question3 ,but1 if he was1 it is no excellency1 nothing to brag of3 ,the love man has for his ease and security1 and his perpetual desire of meliorating his condition1 must be sufficient motives to make him fond of society1 concerning the necessitous and helpless condition of his nature4 ,hor4 ,do not you fall into the same error1 which1 you say1 ,hobbes has been guilty of1 when you talk of man's necessitous and helpless condition8 ,cleo4 ,not at all2 ,i speak of men and women full grown2 and the more extensive their knowledge is1 the higher their quality1 and the greater their possessions are1 the more necessitous and helpless they are in their nature4 ,a nobleman of twenty-five or thirty thousand pounds a-year1 that has three or four coaches and six1 and above fifty people to serve him1 is in his person considered singly1 abstract from what he possesses1 more necessitous than an obscure man that has but fifty pounds a-year1 and is used to walk a-foot2 so a lady1 who never stuck a pin in herself1 and is dressed and undressed from head to foot like a jointed baby by her woman1 and the assistance of another maid or two1 is a more helpless creature than doll the diary-maid1 who1 all the winter long1 dresses herself in the dark in less time than the other bestows in placing of her patches4 ,hor4 ,but is the desire of meliorating our condition which you named1 so general1 that no man is without it8 ,cleo4 ,not one that can be called a sociable creature2 and ,i believe this to be as much a characteristic of our species as any can be named3 ,for there is not a man in the world1 educated in society1 who1 if he could compass it by wishing1 would not have something added to1 taken from1 or altered in his person1 possessions1 circumstances1 or any part of the society he belongs to4 ,this is what is not to be perceived in any creature but man2 whose great industry in supplying what he calls his wants1 could never have been known so well as it is1 if it had not been for the unreasonableness1 as well as multiplicity of his desires4 ,from all which1 it is manifest1 that the most civilized people stand most in need of society1 and consequently1 none less than savages4 ,the second reason for which ,i said man was called sociable1 is1 that associating together turned to better account in our species than it would do in any other1 if they were to try it4 ,to find out the reason of this1 we must search into human nature for such qualifications as we excel all other animals in1 and which the generality of men are endued with1 taught or untaught3 ,but in doing this1 we should neglect nothing that is observable in them1 from their most early youth to their extreme old age4 ,hor4 ,i cannot see why you use this precaution1 of taking in the whole age of man2 would it not be sufficient to mind those qualifications which he is possessed of1 when he is come to the height of maturity1 or his greatest perfection8 ,cleo4 ,a considerable part of what is called docility in creatures1 depends upon the pliableness of the parts1 and their fitness to be moved with facility1 which are either entirely lost1 or very much impaired1 when they are full grown4 ,there is nothing in which our species so far surpasses all others1 than in the capacity of acquiring the faculty of thinking and speaking well3 that this is a peculiar property belonging to our nature is very certain1 yet it is as manifest1 that this capacity vanishes1 when we come to maturity1 if till then it has been neglected4 ,the term of life likewise1 that is commonly enjoyed by our species1 being longer than it is in most other animals1 we have a prerogative above them in point of time2 and man has a greater opportunity of advancing in wisdom1 though not to be acquired but by his own experience1 than a creature that lives but half his age1 though it had the same capacity4 ,a man of threescore1 cteris paribus1 knows better what is to be embraced or avoided in life1 than a man of thirty4 ,what ,mitio1 in excusing the follies of youth1 said to his brother ,demea1 in the ,adelphi1 ad omnia alia tate sapimus rectius1 holds among savages1 as well as among philosophers4 ,it is the concurrence of these1 with other properties1 that together compose the sociableness of man4 ,hor4 ,but why may not the love of our species be named1 as one of these properties8 ,cleo4 ,first1 because1 as ,i have said already1 it does not appear1 that we have it beyond other animals3 secondly1 because it is out of the question3 for if we examine into the nature of all bodies politic1 we shall find1 that no dependance is ever had1 or stress laid on any such affection1 either for the raising or maintaining of them4 ,hor4 ,but the epithet itself1 the signification of the word1 imports this love to one another2 as is manifest from the contrary4 ,one who loves solitude1 is averse to company1 or of a singular1 reserved1 and sullen temper1 is the very reverse of a sociable man4 ,cleo4 ,when we compare some men to others1 the word1 ,i own1 is often used in that sense3 but when we speak of a quality peculiar to our species1 and say1 that man is a sociable creature1 the word implies no more1 than that in our nature we have a certain fitness1 by which great multitudes of us cooperating1 may be united and formed into one body2 that endued with1 and1 able to make use of1 the strength1 skill and prudence of every individual1 shall govern itself1 and act on all emergencies1 as if it was animated by one soul1 and actuated by one will4 ,i am willing to allow1 that among the motives that prompt man to enter into society1 there is a desire which he has naturally after company2 but he has it for his own sake1 in hopes of being the better for it2 and he would never wish for either company or any thing else1 but for some advantage or other he proposes to himself from it4 ,what ,i deny is1 that man naturally has such a desire1 out of a fondness of his species1 superior to what other animals have for theirs4 ,it is a compliment which we commonly pay to ourselves1 but there is no more reality in it1 than in our being one another's humble servants2 and ,i insist upon it1 that this pretended love of our species1 and natural affection we are said to have for one another1 beyond other animals1 is neither instrumental to the erecting of societies1 nor ever trusted to in our prudent commerce with one another when associated1 any more than if it had no existence4 ,the undoubted basis of all societies is government3 this truth1 well examined into1 will furnish us with all the reasons of man's excellency as to sociableness4 ,it is evident from it1 that creatures1 to be raised into a community1 must1 in the first place1 be governable3 ,this is a qualification that requires fear1 and some degree of understanding2 for a creature not susceptible of fear1 is never to be governed2 and the more sense and courage it has1 the more refractory and untractable it will be1 without the influence of that useful passion3 and again1 fear without understanding puts creatures only upon avoiding the danger dreaded1 without considering what will become of themselves afterwards3 so wild birds will beat out their brains against the cage1 before they will save their lives by eating4 ,there is a great difference between being submissive1 and being governable2 for he who barely submits to another1 only embraces what he dislikes1 to shun what he dislikes more2 and we may be very submissive1 and be of no use to the person we submit to3 but to be governable1 implies an endeavour to please1 and a willingness to exert ourselves in behalf of the person that governs3 but love beginning every where at home1 no creature can labour for others1 and be easy long1 whilst self is wholly out of the question3 therefore a creature is then truly governable1 when reconciled to submission1 it has learned to construe his servitude to his own advantage2 and rests satisfied with the account it finds for itself1 in the labour it performs for others4 ,several kind of animals are1 or may1 with little trouble1 be made thus governable2 but there is not one creature so tame1 that it can be made to serve its own species1 but man2 yet without this he could never have been made sociable4 ,hor4 ,but was not man by nature designed for society8 ,cleo4 ,we know from revelation that man was made for society4 ,hor4 ,but if it had not been revealed1 or you had been a ,chinese1 or a ,mexican1 what would you answer me as a philosopher8 ,cleo4 ,that nature had designed man for society1 as she has made grapes for wine4 ,hor4 ,to make wine is an invention of man1 as it is to press oil from olives and other vegetables1 and to make ropes of hemp4 ,cleo4 ,and so it is to form a society of independent multitudes2 and there is nothing that requires greater skill4 ,hor4 ,but is not the sociableness of man the work of nature1 or rather of the author of nature1 ,divine ,providence8 ,cleo4 ,without doubt3 ,but so is the innate virtue and peculiar aptitude of every thing2 that grapes are fit to make wine1 and barley and water to make other liquors1 is the work of ,providence2 but it is human sagacity that finds out the uses we make of them3 all the other capacities of man likewise1 as well as his sociableness1 are evidently derived from ,god1 who made him3 every thing therefore that our industry can produce or compass1 is originally owing to the ,author of our being4 ,but when we speak of the works of nature1 to distinguish them from those of art1 we mean such as were brought forth without our concurrence4 ,so nature1 in due season produces peas2 but in ,england you cannot have them green in ,january1 without art and uncommon industry4 ,what nature designs1 she executes herself3 there are creatures1 of whom it is visible1 that nature has designed them for society1 as is most obvious in bees1 to whom she has given instincts for that purpose1 as appears from the effects4 ,we owe our being and every thing else to the great ,author of the universe2 but as societies cannot subsist without his preserving power1 so they cannot exist without the concurrence of human wisdom3 all of them must have a dependance either on mutual compact1 or the force of the strong exerting itself upon the patience of the weak4 ,the difference between the works of art1 and those of nature1 is so immense1 that it is impossible not to know them asunder4 ,knowing1 priori1 belongs to ,god only1 and ,divine ,wisdom acts with an original certainty1 of which1 what we call demonstration1 is but an imperfect borrowed copy4 ,amongst the works of nature1 therefore1 we see no trials nor essays2 they are all complete1 and such as she would have them1 at the first production2 and1 where she has not been interrupted1 highly finished1 beyond the reach of our understanding1 as well as senses4 ,wretched man1 on the contrary is sure of nothing1 his own existence not excepted1 but from reasoning1 posteriori4 ,the consequence of this is1 that the works of art and human invention are all very lame and defective1 and most of them pitifully mean at first3 our knowledge is advanced by slow degrees1 and some arts and sciences require the experience of many ages1 before they can be brought to any tolerable perfection4 ,have we any reason to imagine that the society of bees1 that sent forth the first swarm1 made worse wax or honey than any of their posterity have produced since8 ,and again the laws of nature are fixed and unalterable3 in all her orders and regulations there is a stability1 no where to be met with in things of human contrivance and approbation2 ,quid placet aut odio est1 quod non mutabile credas8 ,is it probable1 that amongst the bees1 there has ever been any other form of government than what every swarm submits to now8 ,what an infinite variety of speculations1 what ridiculous schemes have not been proposed amongst men1 on the subject of government2 what dissentions in opinion1 and what fatal quarrels has it not been the occasion of6 and which is the best form of it1 is a question to this day undecided4 ,the projects1 good and bad1 that have been stated for the benefit1 and more happy establishment of society1 are innumerable2 but how short sighted is our sagacity1 how fallible human judgment6 ,what has seemed highly advantageous to mankind in one age1 has often been found to be evidently detrimental by the succeeding2 and even among contemporaries1 what is revered in one country1 is the abomination of another4 ,what changes have ever bees made in their furniture or architecture8 have they ever made cells that were not sexangular1 or added any tools to those which nature furnished them with at the beginning8 ,what mighty structures have been raised1 what prodigious works have been performed by the great nations of the world6 ,toward all these nature has only found materials3 the quarry yields marble1 but it is the sculptor that makes a statue of it4 ,to have the infinite variety of iron tools that have been invented1 nature has given us nothing but the oar1 which she has hid in the bowels of the earth4 ,hor4 ,but the capacity of the workmen1 the inventors of arts1 and those that improved them1 has had a great share in bringing those labours to perfection2 and their genius they had from nature4 ,cleo4 ,so far as it depended upon the make of their frame1 the accuracy of the machine they had1 and no further2 but this ,i have allowed already2 and if you remember what ,i have said on this head1 you will find1 that the part which nature contributed toward the skill and patience of every single person1 that had a hand in those works1 was very inconsiderable4 ,hor4 ,if ,i have not misunderstood you1 you would insinuate two things3 ,first1 that the fitness of man for society1 beyond other animals1 is something real2 but that it is hardly perceptible in individuals1 before great numbers of them are joined together1 and artfully managed4 ,secondly1 that this real something1 this sociableness1 is a compound that consists in a concurrence of several things1 and not in any one palpable quality1 that man is endued with1 and brutes are destitute of4 ,cleo4 ,you are perfectly right3 every grape contains a small quantity of juice1 and when great heaps of them are squeezed together1 they yield a liquor1 which by skilful management may be made into wine3 but if we consider how necessary fermentation is to the vinosity of the liquor1 ,i mean1 how essential is it to its being wine1 it will be evident to us1 that without great impropriety of speech1 it cannot be said1 that in every grape there is wine4 ,hor4 ,vinosity1 so far as it is the effect of fermentation1 is adventitious2 and what none of the grapes could ever have received whilst they remained single2 and1 therefore1 if you would compare the sociableness of man to the vinosity of wine1 you must show me1 that in society there is an equivalent for fermentation2 ,i mean something that individual persons are not actually possessed of1 whilst they remain single1 and which likewise is palpably adventitious to multitudes when joined together2 in the same manner as fermentation is to the juice of grapes1 and as necessary and essential to the completing of society as that is1 that same fermentation1 to procure the vinosity of wine4 ,cleo4 ,such an equivalent is demonstrable in mutual commerce3 for if we examine every faculty and qualification1 from and for which we judge and pronounce man to be a sociable creature beyond other animals1 we shall find1 that a very considerable1 if not the greatest part of the attribute is acquired1 and comes upon multitudes1 from their conversing with one another4 ,fabricando fabri simus4 ,men become sociable1 by living together in society4 ,natural affection prompts all mothers to take care of the offspring they dare own2 so far as to feed and keep them from harm1 whilst they are helpless3 but where people are poor1 and the women have no leisure to indulge themselves in the various expressions of their fondness for their infants1 which fondling of them ever increases1 they are often very remiss in tending and playing with them2 and the more healthy and quiet such children are1 the more they are neglected4 ,this want of prattling to1 and stirring up the spirits in babes1 is often the principal cause of an invincible stupidity1 as well as ignorance1 when they are grown up2 and we often ascribe to natural incapacity1 what is altogether owing to the neglect of this early instruction4 ,we have so few examples of human creatures1 that never conversed with their own species1 that it is hard to guess1 what man would be1 entirely untaught2 but we have good reason to believe1 that the faculty of thinking would be very imperfect in such a one1 if we consider1 that the greatest docility can be of no use to a creature1 whilst it has nothing to imitate1 nor any body to teach it4 ,hor4 ,philosophers therefore are very wisely employed1 when they discourse about the laws of nature2 and pretend to determine what a man in the state of nature would think1 and which way he would reason concerning himself and the creation1 uninstructed4 ,cleo4 ,thinking1 and reasoning justly1 as ,mr4 ,locke has rightly observed1 require time and practice4 ,those that have not used themselves to thinking1 but just on their present necessities1 make poor work of it1 when they try beyond that4 ,in remote parts1 and such as are least inhabited1 we shall find our species come nearer the state of nature1 than it does in and near great cities and considerable towns1 even in the most civilized nations4 ,among the most ignorant of such people1 you may learn the truth of my assertion2 talk to them about any thing1 that requires abstract thinking1 and there is not one in fifty that will understand you1 any more than a horse would2 and yet many of them are useful labourers1 and cunning enough to tell lies and deceive4 ,man is a rational creature1 but he is not endued with reason when he comes into the world2 nor can he afterwards put it on when he pleases1 at once1 as he may a garment4 ,speech likewise is a characteristic of our species1 but no man is born with it2 and a dozen generations proceeding from two savages would not produce any tolerable language2 nor have we reason to believe1 that a man could be taught to speak after five-and-twenty1 if he had never heard others before that time4 ,hor4 ,the necessity of teaching1 whilst the organs are supple1 and easily yield to impression1 which you have spoke of before1 ,i believe is of great weight1 both in speaking and thinking2 but could a dog1 or a monkey1 ever be taught to speak8 ,cleo4 ,i believe not2 but ,i do not think1 that creatures of another species had ever the pains bestowed upon them1 that some children have1 before they can pronounce one word4 ,another thing to be considered is1 that though some animals perhaps live longer than we do1 there is no species that remains young so long as ours2 and besides what we owe to the superior aptitude to learn1 which we have from the great accuracy of our frame and inward structure1 we are not a little indebted for our docility1 to the slowness and long gradation of our increase1 before we are full grown3 the organs in other creatures grow stiff1 before ours are come to half their perfection4 ,hor4 ,so that in the compliment we make to our species1 of its being endued with speech and sociableness1 there is no other reality1 than that by care and industry men may be taught to speak1 and be made sociable1 if the discipline begins when they are very young4 ,cleo4 ,not otherwise4 ,a thousand of our species all grown up1 that is above five-and-twenty1 could never be made sociable1 if they had been brought up wild1 and were all strangers to one another4 ,hor4 ,i believe they could not be civilized1 if their education began so late4 ,cleo4 ,but ,i mean barely sociable1 as it is the epithet peculiar to man2 that is1 it would be impossible by art to govern them1 any more than so many wild horses1 unless you had two or three times that number to watch and keep them in awe4 ,therefore it is highly probable1 that most societies1 and beginnings of nations1 were formed in the manner ,sir ,william ,temple supposes it2 but nothing near so fast3 and ,i wonder how a man of his unquestionable good sense1 could form an idea of justice1 prudence1 and wisdom1 in an untaught creature2 or think of a civilized man1 before there was any civil society1 and even before men had commenced to associate4 ,hor4 ,i have read it1 ,i am sure1 but ,i do not remember what it is you mean4 ,cleo4 ,he is just behind you2 the third shelf from the bottom2 the first volume3 pray reach it me1 it is worth your hearing4----,it is in his ,essay on ,government4 ,here it is4 ,for if we consider man multiplying his kind by the birth of many children1 and his cares by providing even necessary food for them1 until they are able to do it for themselves 7which happens much later to the generations of men1 and makes a much longer dependence of children upon parents1 than we can observe among any other creatures72 if we consider not only the cares1 but the industry he is forced to1 for the necessary sustenance of his helpless brood1 either in gathering the natural fruits1 or raising those which are purchased with labour and toil3 if he be forced for supply of this stock1 to catch the tamer creatures1 and hunt the wilder1 sometimes to exercise his courage in defending his little family1 and fighting with the strong and savage beasts 7that would prey upon him1 as he does upon the weak and mild73 if we suppose him disposing with discretion and order1 whatever he gets among his children1 according to each of their hunger or need2 sometimes laying up for to-morrow1 what was more than enough for to-day2 at other times pinching himself1 rather than suffering any of them should want4---- ,hor4 ,this man is no savage1 or untaught creature2 he is fit to be a justice of peace4 ,cleo4 ,pray let me go on1 ,i shall only read this paragraph3 ,and as each of them grows up1 and able to share in the common support1 teaching them1 both by lesson and example1 what he is now to do1 as the son of his family1 and what hereafter1 as the father of another2 instructing them all1 what qualities are good1 and what are ill1 for their health and life1 or common society 7which will certainly comprehend whatever is generally esteemed virtue or vice among men71 cherishing and encouraging dispositions to the good1 disfavouring and punishing those to the ill3 ,and lastly1 among the various accidents of life1 lifting up his eyes to ,heaven1 when the earth affords him no relief2 and having recourse to a higher and a greater nature1 whenever he finds the frailty of his own3 we must needs conclude1 that the children of this man cannot fail of being bred up with a great opinion of his wisdom1 his goodness1 his valour1 and his piety4 ,and if they see constant plenty in the family1 they believe well of his fortune too4 ,hor4 ,did this man spring out of the earth1 ,i wonder1 or did he drop from the sky8 ,cleo4 ,there is no manner of absurdity in supposing----4 ,hor4 ,the discussion of this would too far engage us3 ,i am sure1 ,i have tired you already with my impertinence4 ,cleo4 ,you have pleased me extremely3 the questions you have asked have all been very pertinent1 and such as every man of sense would make1 that had not made it his business to think on these things4 ,i read that passage on purpose to you1 to make some use of it2 but if you are weary of the subject1 ,i will not trespass upon your patience any longer4 ,hor4 ,you mistake me2 ,i begin to be fond of the subject3 but before we talk of it any further1 ,i have a mind to run over that ,essay again2 it is a great while since ,i read it3 and after that ,i shall be glad to resume the discourse2 the sooner the better4 ,i know you are a lover of fine fruit1 if you will dine with me to-morrow1 ,i will give you an ananas4 ,cleo4 ,i love your company so well1 that ,i can refuse no opportunity of enjoying it4 ,hor4 ,a revoir then4 ,cleo4 ,your servant4 ,,the ,,fifth ,,dialogue ,,between ,,horatio ,,and ,,cleomenes4 ,,cleomenes4 ,it excels every thing2 it is extremely rich without being luscious1 and ,i know nothing to which ,i can compare the taste of it3 to me it seems to be a collection of different fine flavours1 that puts me in mind of several delicious fruits1 which yet are all outdone by it4 ,hor4 ,i am glad it pleased you4 ,cleo4 ,the scent of it likewise is wonderfully reviving4 ,as you was paring it1 a fragrancy1 ,i thought1 perfumed the room that was perfectly cordial4 ,hor4 ,the inside of the rhind has an oiliness of no disagreeable smell1 that upon handling of it sticks to ones fingers for a considerable time2 for though now ,i have washed and wiped my hands1 the flavour of it will not be entirely gone from them by to-morrow morning4 ,cleo4 ,this was the third ,i ever tasted of our own growth2 the production of them in these northern climates1 is no small instance of human industry1 and our improvements in gardening4 ,it is very elegant to enjoy the wholesome air of temperate regions1 and at the same time be able to raise fruit to its highest maturity1 that naturally requires the sun of the ,torrid ,zone4 ,hor4 ,it is easy enough to procure heat1 but the great art consists in finding out1 and regulating the degrees of it at pleasure2 without which it would be impossible to ripen an ananas here1 and to compass this with that exactness1 as it is done by the help of thermometers1 was certainly a fine invention4 ,cleo4 ,i do not care to drink any more4 ,hor4 ,just as you please2 otherwise ,i was going to name a health1 which would not have come mal propos4 ,cleo4 ,whose is that1 pray8 ,hor4 ,i was thinking on the man to whom we are in a great measure obliged for the production and culture of the exotic1 we were speaking of1 in this kingdom2 ,sir ,matthew ,decker1 the first ananas or pine-apple1 that was brought to perfection in ,england1 grew in his garden at ,richmond4 ,cleo4 ,with all my heart2 let us finish with that2 he is a beneficent1 and1 ,i believe1 a very honest man4 ,hor4 ,it would not be easy to name another1 who1 with the same knowledge of the world1 and capacity of getting money1 is equally disinterested and inoffensive4 ,cleo4 ,have you considered the things we discoursed of yesterday8 ,hor4 ,i have thought on nothing else since ,i saw you3 ,this morning ,i went through the whole ,essay1 and with more attention than ,i did formerly3 ,i like it very well2 only that passage which you read yesterday1 and some others to the same purpose1 ,i cannot reconcile with the account we have of man's origin from the ,bible3 ,since all are descendants from ,adam1 and consequently of ,noah and his posterity1 how came savages into the world8 ,cleo4 ,the history of the world1 as to very ancient times1 is very imperfect3 ,what devastations have been made by war1 by pestilence1 and by famine2 what distress some men have been drove to1 and how strangely our race has been dispersed and scattered over the earth since the flood1 we do not know4 ,hor4 ,but persons that are well instructed themselves1 never fail of teaching their children2 and we have no reason to think1 that knowing1 civilized men1 as the sons of ,noah were1 should have neglected their offspring2 but it is altogether incredible1 as all are descendants from them1 that succeeding generations1 instead of increasing in experience and wisdom1 should learn backward1 and still more and more abandon their broods in such a manner1 as to degenerate at last to what you call the state of nature4 ,cleo4 ,whether you intend this as a sarcasm or not1 ,i do not know2 but you have raised no difficulty that can render the truth of the sacred history suspected4 ,holy writ has acquainted us with the miraculous origin of our species1 and the small remainder of it after the deluge3 ,but it is far from informing us of all the revolutions that have happened among mankind since3 ,the ,old ,testament hardly touches upon any particulars that had no relation to the ,jews2 neither does ,moses pretend to give a full account of every thing that happened to1 or was transacted by our first parents3 ,he names none of ,adam's daughters1 and takes no notice of several things that must have happened in the beginning of the world1 as is evident from ,cain's building a city1 and several other circumstances2 from which it is plain1 that ,moses meddled with nothing but what was material1 and to his purpose2 which1 in that part of his history1 was to trace the descent of the ,patriarchs1 from the first man4 ,but that there are savages is certain3 ,most nations of ,europe have met with wild men and women in several parts of the world1 that were ignorant of the use of letters1 and among whom they could observe no rule or government4 ,hor4 ,that there are savages1 ,i do not question2 and from the great number of slaves that are yearly fetched from ,africa1 it is manifest1 that in some parts there must be vast swarms of people1 that have not yet made a great hand of their sociableness3 ,but how to derive them from all the sons of ,noah1 ,i own1 is past my skill4 ,cleo4 ,you find it as difficult to account for the loss of the many fine arts1 and useful inventions of the ancients1 which the world has certainly sustained4 ,but the fault ,i find with ,sir ,william ,temple1 is in the character of his savage4 ,just reasoning1 and such an orderly way of proceeding1 as he makes him act in1 are unnatural to a wild man3 ,in such a one1 the passions must be boisterous1 and continually jostling1 and succeeding one another2 no untaught man could have a regular way of thinking1 or pursue any one design with steadiness4 ,hor4 ,you have strange notions of our species3 ,but has not a man1 by the time that he comes to maturity1 some notions of right and wrong1 that are natural8 ,cleo4 ,before ,i answer your question1 ,i would have you consider1 that1 among savages1 there must be always a great difference as to the wildness or tameness of them4 ,all creatures naturally love their offspring whilst they are helpless1 and so does man3 ,but in the savage state1 men are more liable to accidents and misfortunes than they are in society1 as to the rearing of their young ones2 and1 therefore1 the children of savages must very often be put to their shifts1 so as hardly to remember1 by the time that they are grown up1 that they had any parents4 ,if this happens too early1 and they are dropt or lost before they are four or five years of age1 they must perish2 either die for want1 or be devoured by beasts of prey1 unless some other creature takes care of them4 ,those orphans that survive1 and become their own masters very young1 must1 when they are come to maturity1 be much wilder than others1 that have lived many years under the tuition of parents4 ,hor4 ,but would not the wildest man you can imagine1 have from nature some thoughts of justice and injustice8 ,cleo4 ,such a one1 ,i believe1 would naturally1 without much thinking in the case1 take every thing to be his own that he could lay his hands on4 ,hor4 ,then they would soon be undeceived1 if two or three of them met together4 ,cleo4 ,that they would soon disagree and quarrel1 is highly probable2 but ,i do not believe they ever would be undeceived4 ,hor4 ,at this rate1 men could never be formed into an aggregate body3 ,how came society into the world8 ,cleo4 ,as ,i told you1 from private families2 but not without great difficulty1 and the concurrence of many favourable accidents2 and many generations may pass before there is any likelihood of their being formed into a society4 ,hor4 ,that men are formed into societies1 we see3 ,but if they are all born with that false notion1 and they can never be undeceived1 which way do you account for it8 ,cleo4 ,my opinion concerning this matter1 is this3 ,self-preservation bids all creatures gratify their appetites1 and that of propagating his kind never fails to affect a man in health1 many years before he comes to his full growth4 ,if a wild man and a wild woman would meet very young1 and live together for fifty years undisturbed1 in a mild wholesome climate1 where there is plenty of provisions1 they might see a prodigious number of descendants3 ,for1 in the wild state of nature1 man multiplies his kind much faster1 than can be allowed of in any regular society3 ,no male at fourteen would be long without a female1 if he could get one2 and no female of twelve would be refractory1 if applied to1 or remain long uncourted1 if there were men4 ,hor4 ,considering that consanguinity would be no bar among these people1 the progeny of two savages might soon amount to hundreds3 ,all this ,i can grant you2 but as parents1 no better qualified1 could teach their children but little1 it would be impossible for them to govern these sons and daughters when they grew up1 if none of them had any notions of right or wrong2 and society is as far off as ever2 the false principle1 which you say all men are born with1 is an obstacle never to be surmounted4 ,cleo4 ,from that false principle1 as you call it1 the right men naturally claim to every thing they can get1 it must follow1 that man will look upon his children as his property1 and make such use of them as is most consistent with his interest4 ,hor4 ,what is the interest of a wild man that pursues nothing with steadiness4 ,cleo4 ,the demand of the predominant passion for the time it lasts4 ,hor4 ,that may change every moment1 and such children would be miserably managed4 ,cleo4 ,that is true2 but still managed they would be2 ,i mean they would be kept under1 and forced to do as they they were bid1 at least till they were strong enough to resist4 ,natural affection would prompt a wild man to love and cherish his child2 it would make him provide food1 and other necessaries for his son1 till he was ten or twelve years old1 or perhaps longer3 ,but this affection is not the only passion he has to gratify2 if his son provokes him by stubbornness1 or doing otherwise than he would have him1 this love is suspended2 and if his displeasure be strong enough to raise his anger1 which is as natural to him as any other passion1 it is ten to one but he will knock him down3 ,if he hurts him very much1 and the condition he has put his son in1 moves his pity1 his anger will cease2 and1 natural affection returning1 he will fondle him again1 and be sorry for what he has done4 ,now1 if we consider that all creatures hate and endeavour to avoid pain1 and that benefits beget love in all that receive them1 we shall find1 that the consequence of this management would be1 that the savage child would learn to love and fear his father3 ,these two passions1 together with the esteem which we naturally have for every thing that far excels us1 will seldom fail of producing that compound which we call reverence4 ,hor4 ,i have it now2 you have opened my eyes1 and ,i see the origin of society1 as plain as ,i do that table4 ,cleo4 ,i am afraid the prospect is not so clear yet as you imagine4 ,hor4 ,why so8 ,the grand obstacles are removed3 ,untaught men1 it is true1 when they are grown up1 are never to be governed2 and our subjection is never sincere where the superiority of the governor is not very apparent3 ,but both these are obviated2 the reverence we have for a person when we are young1 is easily continued as long as we live2 and where authority is once acknowledged1 and that acknowledgment well established1 it cannot be a difficult matter to govern4 ,if thus a man may keep up his authority over his children1 he will do it still with greater ease over his grand-children3 ,for a child that has the least reverence for his parents1 will seldom refuse homage to the person to whom he sees his father pay it4 ,besides1 a man's pride would be a sufficient motive for him to maintain the authority once gained2 and1 if some of his progeny proved refractory1 he would leave no stone unturned1 by the help of the rest to reduce the disobedient4 ,the old man being dead1 the authority from him would devolve upon the eldest of his children1 and so on4 ,cleo4 ,i thought you would go on too fast4 ,if the wild man had understood the nature of things1 and been endued with general knowledge1 and a language ready made1 as ,adam was by miracle1 what you say might have been easy2 but an ignorant creature that knows nothing but what his own experience has taught him1 is no more fit to govern than he is fit to teach the mathematics4 ,hor4 ,he would not have above one or two children to govern at first2 and his experience would increase by degrees1 as well as his family4 ,this would require no such consummate knowledge4 ,cleo4 ,i do not say it would3 ,an ordinary capacity of a man tolerably well educated1 would be sufficient to begin with2 but a man who never had been taught to curb any of his passions1 would be very unfit for such a task4 ,he would make his children1 as soon as they were able1 assist him in getting food1 and teach them how and where to procure it4 ,savage children1 as they got strength1 would endeavour to imitate every action they saw their parents do1 and every sound they heard them make2 but all the instructions they received1 would be confined to things immediately necessary4 ,savage parents would often take offence at their children1 as they grew up1 without a cause2 and as these increased in years1 so natural affection would decrease in the other4 ,the consequence would be1 that the children would often suffer for failings that were not their own4 ,savages would often discover faults in the conduct of what was past2 but they would not be able to establish rules for future behaviour1 which they would approve of themselves for any continuance2 and want of foresight would be an inexhaustible fund for changes in their resolutions4 ,the savage's wife1 as well as himself1 would be highly pleased to see their daughters impregnated and bring forth2 and they would both take great delight in their grand-children4 ,hor4 ,i thought1 that in all creatures the natural affection of parents had been confined to their own young ones4 ,cleo4 ,it is so in all but man2 there is no species but ours1 that are so conceited of themselves1 as to imagine every thing to be theirs4 ,the desire of dominion is a never-failing consequence of the pride that is common to all men2 and which the brat of a savage is as much born with as the son of an emperor4 ,this good opinion we have of ourselves1 makes men not only claim a right to their children1 but likewise imagine1 that they have a great share of jurisdiction over their grandchildren4 ,the young ones of other animals1 as soon as they can help themselves1 are free2 but the authority which parents pretend to have over their children1 never ceases3 ,how general and unreasonable this eternal claim is naturally in the heart of man1 we may learn from the laws2 which1 to prevent the usurpation of parents1 and rescue children from their dominion1 every civil society is forced to make2 limiting paternal authority to a certain term of years4 ,our savage pair would have a double title to their grandchildren1 from their undoubted property in each parent of them2 and all the progeny being sprung from their own sons and daughters1 without intermixture of foreign blood1 they would look upon the whole race to be their natural vassals2 and ,i am persuaded1 that the more knowledge and capacity of reasoning this first couple acquired1 the more just and unquestionable their sovereignty over all their descendants would appear to them1 though they should live to see the fifth or sixth generation4 ,hor4 ,is it not strange that nature should send us all into the world with a visible desire after government1 and no capacity for it at all8 ,cleo4 ,what seems strange to you1 is an undeniable instance of ,divine ,wisdom4 ,for1 if all had not been born with this desire1 all must have been destitute of it2 and multitudes could never have been formed into societies1 if some of them had not been possessed of this thirst of dominion4 ,creatures may commit force upon themselves1 they may learn to warp their natural appetites1 and divert them from their proper objects3 but peculiar instincts1 that belong to a whole species1 are never to be acquired by art or discipline2 and those that are born without them1 must remain destitute of them for ever4 ,ducks run to the water as soon as they are hatched2 but you can never make a chicken swim any more than you can teach it to suck4 ,hor4 ,i understand you very well4 ,if pride had not been innate to all men1 none of them could ever have been ambitious3 ,and as to the capacity of governing1 experience shows us1 that it is to be acquired2 but how to bring society into the world1 ,i know no more than the wild man himself4 ,what you have suggested to me of his unskilfulness1 and want of power to govern himself1 has quite destroyed all the hopes ,i had conceived of society from this family4 ,but would religion have no influence upon them8 ,pray1 how came that into the world8 ,cleo4 ,from ,god1 by miracle4 ,hor4 ,obscurum per obscurius4 ,i do not understand miracles1 that break in upon1 and subvert the order of nature2 and ,i have no notion of things that come to pass1 en dpit de bon sens1 and are such2 that judging from sound reason and known experience1 all wise men would think themselves mathematically sure that they could never happen4 ,cleo4 ,it is certain1 that by the word miracle1 is meant an interposition of the ,divine ,power1 when it deviates from the common course of nature4 ,hor4 ,as when matters1 easily combustible1 remain whole and untouched in the midst of a fire fiercely burning1 or lions in vigour1 industriously kept hungry1 forbear eating what they are most greedy after4 ,these miracles are strange things4 ,cleo4 ,they are not pretended to be otherwise2 the etymology of the word imports it2 but it is almost as unaccountable1 that men should disbelieve them1 and pretend to be of a religion that is altogether built upon miracles4 ,hor4 ,but when ,i asked you that general question1 why did you confine yourself to revealed religion8 ,cleo4 ,because nothing1 in my opinion1 deserves the name of religion1 that has not been revealed3 ,the ,jewish was the first that was national1 and the ,christian the next4 ,hor4 ,but ,abraham1 ,noah1 and ,adam himself1 were no ,jews1 and yet they had religion4 ,cleo4 ,no other than what was revealed to them4 ,god appeared to our first parents1 and gave them commands immediately after he had created them3 ,the same intercourse was continued between the ,supreme ,being and the ,patriarchs2 but the father of ,abraham was an idolater4 ,hor4 ,but the ,egyptians1 the ,greeks1 and the ,romans had religion1 as well as the ,jews4 ,cleo4 ,their gross idolatry1 and abominable worship1 ,i call superstition4 ,hor4 ,you may be as partial as you please1 but they all called their worship religion1 as well as we do ours4 ,you say1 man brings nothing with him1 but his passions2 and when ,i asked you1 how religion came into the world1 ,i meant what is there in man's nature that is not acquired1 from which he has a tendency to religion2 what is it that disposes him to it8 ,cleo4 ,fear4 ,hor4 ,how6 ,primus in orbe ,deos fecit timor2 ,are you of that opinion8 ,cleo4 ,no man upon earth less3 ,but that noted ,epicurean axiom1 which irreligious men are so fond of1 is a very poor one2 and it is silly1 as well as impious to say1 that fear made a ,god2 you may as justly say1 that fear made grass1 or the sun and the moon3 but when ,i am speaking of savages1 it is not clashing either with good sense1 nor the ,christian religion1 to assert1 that1 whilst such men are ignorant of the true ,deity1 and yet very defective in the art of thinking and reasoning1 fear is the passion that first gives them an opportunity of entertaining some glimmering notions of an invisible ,power2 which afterwards1 as by practice and experience they grow greater proficients1 and become more perfect in the labour of the brain1 and the exercise of their highest faculty1 will infallibly lead them to the certain knowledge of an ,infinite and ,eternal ,being2 whose power and wisdom will always appear the greater1 and more stupendous to them1 the more they themselves advance in knowledge and penetration1 though both should be carried on to a much higher pitch1 than it is possible for our limited nature ever to arrive at4 ,hor4 ,i beg your pardon for suspecting you2 though ,i am glad it gave you an opportunity of explaining yourself4 ,the word fear1 without any addition1 sounded very harsh2 and even now ,i cannot conceive how an invisible cause should become the object of a man's fear1 that should be so entirely untaught1 as you have made the first savage3 which way can any thing invisible1 and that affects none of the senses1 make an impression upon a wild creature8 ,cleo4 ,every mischief and every disaster that happens to him1 of which the cause is not very plain and obvious2 excessive heat and cold2 wet and drought1 that are offensive2 thunder and lightning1 even when they do no visible hurt2 noises in the dark1 obscurity itself1 and every thing that is frightful and unknown1 are all administering and contributing to the establishment of this fear4 ,the wildest man that can be conceived1 by the time that he came to maturity1 would be wise enough to know1 that fruits and other eatables are not to be had1 either always1 or every where3 this would naturally put him upon hoarding1 when he had good store3 his provision might be spoiled by the rain3 he would see that trees were blasted1 and yielded not always the same plenty3 he might not always be in health1 or his young ones might grow sick1 and die1 without any wounds or external force to be seen4 ,some of these accidents might at first escape his attention1 or only alarm his weak understanding1 without occasioning much reflection for some time2 but as they come often1 he would certainly begin to suspect some invisible cause2 and1 as his experience increased1 be confirmed in his suspicion4 ,it is likewise highly probable1 that a variety of different sufferings1 would make him apprehend several such causes2 and at last induce him to believe1 that there was a great number of them1 which he had to fear4 ,what would very much contribute to this credulous disposition1 and naturally lead him into such a belief1 is a false notion we imbibe very early1 and which we may observe in infants1 as soon as by their looks1 their gestures1 and the signs they make1 they begin to be intelligible to us4 ,hor4 ,what is that1 pray8 ,cleo4 ,all young children seem to imagine1 that every thing thinks and feels in the same manner as they do themselves2 and1 that they generally have this wrong opinion of things inanimate1 is evident1 from a common practice among them2 whenever they labour under any misfortune1 which their own wildness1 and want of care have drawn upon them4 ,in all such cases1 you see them angry at and strike1 a table1 a chair1 the floor1 or any thing else1 that can seem to have been accessary to their hurting themselves1 or the production of any other blunder1 they have committed4 ,nurses we see1 in compliance to their frailty1 seem to entertain the same ridiculous sentiments2 and actually appease wrathful brats1 by pretending to take their part3 ,thus you will often see them very serious1 in scolding at and beating1 either the real object of the baby's indignation1 or something else1 on which the blame of what has happened1 may be thrown1 with any show of probability4 ,it is not to be imagined1 that this natural folly should be so easily cured in a child1 that is destitute of all instruction and commerce with his own species1 as it is in those that are brought up in society1 and hourly improved by conversing with others that are wiser than themselves2 and ,i am persuaded1 that a wild man would never get entirely rid of it whilst he lived4 ,hor4 ,i cannot think so meanly of human understanding4 ,cleo4 ,whence came the ,dryades and ,hama-,dryades8 ,how came it ever to be thought impious to cut down1 or even to wound large venerable oaks or other stately trees2 and what root did the ,divinity spring from1 which the vulgar1 among the ancient heathens1 apprehended to be in rivers and fountains8 ,hor4 ,from the roguery of designing priests1 and other impostors1 that invented those lies1 and made fables for their own advantage4 ,cleo4 ,but still it must have been want of understanding2 and a tincture1 some remainder of that folly which is discovered in young children1 that could induce1 or would suffer men to believe those fables4 ,unless fools actually had frailties1 knaves could not make use of them4 ,hor4 ,there may be something in it2 but1 be that as it will1 you have owned1 that man naturally loves those he receives benefits from2 therefore1 how comes it1 that man1 finding all the good things he enjoys to proceed from an invisible cause1 his gratitude should not sooner prompt him to be religious1 than his fear8 ,cleo4 ,there are several substantial reasons1 why it does not4 ,man takes every thing to be his own1 which he has from nature3 sowing and reaping1 he thinks1 deserve a crop1 and whatever he has the least hand in1 is always reckoned to be his4 ,every art1 and every invention1 as soon as we know them1 are our right and property2 and whatever we perform by the assistance of them1 is1 by the courtesy of the species to itself1 deemed to be our own4 ,we make use of fermentation1 and all the chemistry of nature1 without thinking ourselves beholden to any thing but our own knowledge4 ,she that churns the cream1 makes the butter2 without inquiring into the power by which the thin lymphatic particles are forced to separate themselves1 and slide away from the more unctuous4 ,in brewing1 baking1 cooking1 and almost every thing we have a hand in1 nature is the drudge that makes all the alterations1 and does the principal work2 yet all1 forsooth1 is our own4 ,from all which1 it is manifest1 that man1 who is naturally for making every thing centre in himself1 must1 in his wild state1 have a great tendency1 and be very prone to look upon every thing he enjoys as his due2 and every thing he meddles with1 as his own performance4 ,it requires knowledge and reflection2 and a man must be pretty far advanced in the art of thinking justly1 and reasoning consequentially1 before he can1 from his own light1 and without being taught1 be sensible of his obligations to ,god4 ,the less a man knows1 and the more shallow his understanding is1 the less he is capable either of enlarging his prospect of things1 or drawing consequences from the little which he does know4 ,raw1 ignorant1 and untaught men1 fix their eyes on what is immediately before1 and seldom look further than1 as it is vulgarly expressed1 the length of their noses4 ,the wild man1 if gratitude moved him1 would much sooner pay his respects to the tree he gathers his nuts from1 than he would think of an acknowledgment to him who had planted it2 and there is no property so well established1 but a civilized man would suspect his title to it sooner1 than a wild one would question the sovereignty he has over his own breath4 ,another reason1 why fear is an elder motive to religion than gratitude1 is1 that an untaught man would never suspect that the same cause1 which he received good from1 would ever do him hurt2 and evil1 without doubt1 would always gain his attention first4 ,hor4 ,men1 indeed1 seem to remember one ill turn1 that is served them1 better than ten good ones2 one month's sickness better than ten years health4 ,cleo4 ,in all the labours of self-preservation1 man is intent on avoiding what is hurtful to him2 but in the enjoyment of what is pleasant1 his thoughts are relaxed1 and he is void of care3 he can swallow a thousand delights1 one after another1 without asking questions2 but the least evil makes him inquisitive whence it came1 in order to shun it4 ,it is very material1 therefore1 to know the cause of evil2 but to know that of good1 which is always welcome1 is of little use2 that is1 such a knowledge seems not to promise any addition to his happiness4 ,when a man once apprehends such an invisible enemy1 it is reasonable to think1 that he would be glad to appease1 and make him his friend1 if he could find him out2 it is highly probable1 likewise1 that in order to this1 he would search1 investigate1 and look every where about him2 and that finding all his inquiries upon earth in vain1 he would lift up his eyes to the sky4 ,hor4 ,and so a wild man might2 and look down and up again long enough before he would be the wiser4 ,i can easily conceive1 that a creature must labour under great perplexities1 when it actually fears something1 of which it knows neither what it is1 nor where it is2 and that1 though a man had all the reason in the world to think it invisible1 he would still be more afraid of it in the dark1 than when he could see4 ,cleo4 ,whilst a man is but an imperfect thinker1 and wholly employed in furthering self preservation in the most simple manner1 and removing the immediate obstacles he meets with in that pursuit1 this affair1 perhaps1 affects him but little2 but when he comes to be a tolerable reasoner1 and has leisure to reflect1 it must produce strange chimeras and surmises2 and a wild couple would not converse together long1 before they would endeavour to express their minds to one another concerning this matter2 and1 as in time they would invent and agree upon1 certain sounds of distinction for several things1 of which the ideas would often occur1 so ,i believe1 that this invisible cause would be one of the first1 which they would coin a name for4 ,a wild man and a wild woman would not take less care of their helpless brood than other animals2 and it is not to imagined1 but the children that were brought up by them1 though without instruction or discipline1 would1 before they were ten years old1 observe in their parents this fear of an invisible cause4 ,it is incredible likewise1 considering1 how much men differ from one another in features1 complexion1 and temper1 that all should form the same idea of this cause2 from whence it would follow1 that as soon as any considerable number of men could intelligibly converse together1 it would appear1 that there were different opinions among them concerning the invisible cause3 the fear and acknowledgment of it being universal1 and man always attributing his own passions to every thing1 which he conceives to think1 every body would be solicitous to avoid the hatred and ill-will1 and1 if it was possible1 to gain the friendship of such a power4 ,if we consider these things1 and what we know of the nature of man1 it is hardly to be conceived1 that any considerable number of our species could have any intercourse together long1 in peace or otherwise1 but wilful lies would be raised concerning this power1 and some would pretend to have seen or heard it4 ,how different opinions about invisible power1 may1 by the malice and deceit of impostors1 be made the occasion of mortal enmity among multitudes1 is easily accounted for4 ,if we want rain very much1 and ,i can be persuaded1 that it is your fault we have none1 there needs greater cause to quarrel2 and nothing has happened in the world1 of priestcraft or inhumanity1 folly or abomination1 on religious accounts1 that cannot be solved or explained1 with the least trouble1 from these data1 and the principle of fear4 ,hor4 ,i think ,i must yield to you1 that the first motive of religion1 among savages1 was fear2 but you must allow me in your turn1 that from the general thankfulness that nations have always paid to their gods1 for signal benefits and success2 the many hecatombs that have been offered after victories2 and the various institutions of games and festivals2 it is evident1 that when men came to be wiser1 and more civilized1 the greatest part of their religion was built upon gratitude4 ,cleo4 ,you labour hard1 ,i see1 to vindicate the honour of our species2 but we have no such cause to boast of it3 and ,i shall demonstrate to you1 that a well-weighed consideration1 and a thorough understanding of our nature1 will give us much less reason to exult in our pride1 than it will furnish us with1 for the exercise of our humility4 ,in the first place1 there is no difference between the original nature of a savage1 and that of a civilized man3 they are both born with fear1 and neither of them1 if they have their senses about them1 can live many years1 but an invisible ,power1 will1 at one time or other1 become the object of that fear2 and this will happen to every man1 whether he be wild and alone1 or in society1 and under the best discipline4 ,we know by experience1 that empires1 states1 and kingdoms1 may excel in arts and sciences1 politeness1 and all worldly wisdom1 and at the same time be slaves to the grossest idolatry1 and submit to all the inconsistencies of a false religion4 ,the most civilized people have been as foolish and absurd in sacred worship as it is possible for any savages to be2 and the first have often been guilty of studied cruelties1 which the latter would never have thought of4 ,the ,carthaginians were a subtle flourishing people1 an opulent and formidable nation1 and ,hannibal had half conquered the ,romans1 when still to their idols they sacrificed the children of their chief nobility4 ,and1 as to private persons1 there are innumerable instances in the most polite ages of men of sense and virtue1 that have entertained the most miserable1 unworthy1 and extravagant notions of the ,supreme ,being4 ,what confused and unaccountable apprehensions must not some men have had of ,providence1 to act as they did6 ,alexander ,severus1 who succeeded ,heliogabalus1 was a great reformer of abuses1 and thought to be as good a prince as his predecessor was a bad one3 ,in his palace he had an oratory1 a cabinet set aside for his private devotion1 where he had the images of ,appollonius ,tyanus1 ,orpheus1 ,abraham1 ,jesus ,christ1 and such like gods1 says his historian4 ,what makes you smile8 ,hor4 ,to think how industrious priests are in concealing a man's failings1 when they would have you think well of him4 ,what you say of ,severus1 ,i had read before2 when looking one day for something in ,moreri1 ,i happened to cast my eye on the article of that emperor1 where no mention is made either of ,orpheus or ,appollonius6 which1 remembering the passage in ,lampridius1 ,i wondered at2 and thinking that ,i might have been mistaken1 ,i again consulted that author1 where ,i found it1 as you have related it4 ,i do not question but ,moreri left this out on purpose to repay the civilities of the emperor to the ,christians1 whom1 he tells us1 ,severus had been very favourable to4 ,cleo4 ,that is not impossible in a ,roman ,catholic4 ,but what ,i would speak to1 in the second place1 is the festivals you mentioned1 the hecatombs after victories1 and the general thankfulness of nations to their gods4 ,i desire you would consider1 that in sacred matters1 as well as all human affairs1 there are rites and ceremonies1 and many demonstrations of respect to be seen1 that to outward appearance seem to proceed from gratitude1 which1 upon due examination1 will be found to have been originally the result of fear4 ,at what time the floral games were first instituted1 is not well known3 but they never were celebrated every year constantly1 before a very unseasonable spring put the senate upon the decree that made them annual4 ,to make up the true compound of reverence or veneration1 love and esteem are as necessary ingredients as fear2 but the latter alone is capable of making men counterfeit both the former2 as is evident from the duties that are outwardly paid to tyrants1 at the same time that inwardly they are execrated and hated4 ,idolators have always behaved themselves to every invisible cause they adored1 as men do to a lawless arbitrary power2 when they reckon it as captious1 haughty1 and unreasonable1 as they allow it to be sovereign1 unlimited1 and irresistible4 ,what motive could the frequent repetitions of the same solemnities spring from1 whenever it was suspected that the least holy trifle had been omitted8 ,you know1 how often the same farce was once acted over again1 because after every performance there was still room to apprehend that something had been neglected4 ,do but consult1 ,i beg of you1 and call to mind your own reading2 cast your eyes on the infinite variety of ideas men have formed to themselves1 and the vast multitude of divisions they have made of the invisible cause1 which every one imagines to influence human affairs3 run over the history of all ages2 look into every considerable nation1 their straits and calamities1 as well as victories and successes2 the lives of great generals1 and other famous men1 their adverse fortune and prosperity3 mind at which times their devotion was most fervent2 when oracles were most consulted1 and on what accounts the gods were most frequently addressed4 ,do but calmly consider every thing you can remember relating to superstition1 whether grave1 ridiculous1 or execrable1 and you will find1 in the first place1 that the heathens1 and all that have been ignorant of the true ,deity1 though many of them were persons otherwise of great knowledge1 fine understanding1 and tried probity1 have represented their gods1 not as wise1 benign1 equitable1 and merciful2 but1 on the contrary1 as passionate1 revengeful1 capricious1 and unrelenting beings2 not to mention the abominable vices and gross immoralities1 the vulgar were taught to ascribe to them3 ,in the second1 that for every one instance that men have addressed themselves to an invisible cause1 from a principle of gratitude1 there are a thousand in every false religion to convince you1 that divine worship1 and men's submission to ,heaven1 have always proceeded from their fear4 ,the word religion itself1 and the fear of ,god1 are synonymous2 and had man's acknowledgment been originally founded in love1 as it is in fear1 the craft of impostors could have made no advantage of the passion2 and all their boasted acquaintance with gods and goddesses1 would have been useless to them1 if men had worshipped the immortal powers1 as they called their idols1 out of gratitude4 ,hor4 ,all lawgivers and leaders of people gained their point1 and acquired what they expected from those pretences1 which is reverence2 and which to produce1 you have owned yourself1 love and esteem to be as requisite as fear4 ,cleo4 ,but from the laws they imposed on men1 and the punishments they annexed to the breach and neglect of them1 it is easily seen which of the ingredients they most relied upon4 ,hor4 ,it would be difficult to name a king1 or other great man1 in very ancient times1 who attempted to govern an infant nation that laid no claim to some commerce or other with an invisible power1 either held by himself or his ancestors4 ,between them and ,moses1 there is no other difference1 than that he alone was a true prophet1 and really inspired1 and all the rest were impostors4 ,cleo4 ,what would you infer from this8 ,hor4 ,that we can say no more for ourselves1 than what men of all parties and persuasions have done in all ages1 every one for their cause1 viz4 ,that they alone were in the right1 and all that differed from them in the wrong4 ,cleo4 ,is it not sufficient that we can say this of ourselves with truth and justice1 after the strictest examination2 when no other cause can stand any test1 or bear the least inquiry8 ,a man may relate miracles that never were wrought1 and give an account of things that never happened2 but a thousand years hence1 all knowing men will agree1 that nobody could have wrote ,sir ,isaac ,newton's ,principia1 unless he had been a great mathematician4 ,when ,moses acquainted the ,israelites with what had been revealed to him1 he told them a truth1 which nobody then upon earth knew but himself4 ,hor4 ,you mean the unity of ,god1 and his being the ,author of the universe4 ,cleo4 ,i do so4 ,hor4 ,but is not every man of sense capable of knowing this from his reason8 ,cleo4 ,yes1 when the art of reasoning consequentially is come to that perfection1 which it has been arrived at these several hundred years1 and himself has been led into the method of thinking justly4 ,every common sailor could steer a course through the midst of the ocean1 as soon as the use of the loadstone1 and the mariners compass were invented4 ,but before that1 the most expert navigator would have trembled at the thoughts of such an enterprise4 ,when ,moses acquainted1 and imbued the posterity of ,jacob with this sublime and important truth1 they were degenerated into slaves1 attached to the superstition of the country they dwelled in2 and the ,egyptians1 their masters1 though they were great proficients in many arts and sciences1 and more deeply skilled in the mysteries of nature than any other nation then was1 had the most abject and abominable notions of the ,deity1 which it is possible to conceive2 and no savages could have exceeded their ignorance and stupidity1 as to the ,supreme ,being1 the invisible cause that governs the world4 ,he taught the ,israelites priori2 and their children1 before they were nine or ten years old1 knew what the greatest philosophers did not attain to1 by the light of nature1 till many ages after4 ,hor4 ,the advocates for the ancients will never allow1 that any modern philosophers have either thought or reasoned better1 than men did in former ages4 ,cleo4 ,let them believe their eyes3 ,what you say every man of sense may know1 by his own reason1 was in the beginning of ,christianity contested1 and denied with zeal and vehemence by the greatest men in ,rome4 ,celsus1 ,symmachus1 ,porphyry1 ,hierocles1 and other famous rhetoricians1 and men of unquestionable good sense1 wrote in defence of idolatry1 and strenuously maintained the plurality and multiplicity of their gods4 ,moses lived about fifteen hundred years before the reign of ,augustus4 ,if in a place where ,i was very well assured that nobody understood any thing of colouring or drawing1 a man should tell me1 that he had acquired the art of painting by inspiration1 ,i should be more ready to laugh at him than to believe him2 but if ,i saw him draw several fine portraits before my face1 my unbelief would cease1 and ,i should think it ridiculous any longer to suspect his veracity4 ,all the accounts that other lawgivers and founders of nations have given of the deities1 which they or their predecessors conversed with1 contained ideas that were unworthy of the ,divine ,being2 and by the light of nature only1 it is easily proved1 that they must have been false3 ,but the image which ,moses gave the ,jews of the ,supreme ,being1 that ,he was ,one1 and had made heaven and earth1 will stand all tests1 and is a truth that will outlast the world4 ,thus1 ,i think1 ,i have fully proved1 on the one hand1 that all true religion must be revealed1 and could not have come into the world without miracle2 and1 on the other1 that what all men are born with towards religion1 before they receive any instruction1 is fear4 ,hor4 ,you have convinced me many ways1 that we are poor creatures by nature2 but ,i cannot help struggling against those mortifying truths1 when ,i hear them started first4 ,i long to hear the origin of society1 and ,i continually retard your account of it myself with new questions4 ,cleo4 ,do you remember where we left off8 ,hor4 ,i do not think we have made any progress yet2 for we have nothing towards it but a wild man1 and a wild woman1 with some children and grandchildren1 which they are not able either to teach or govern4 ,cleo4 ,i thought that the introduction of the reverence1 which the wildest son must feel1 more or less1 for the most savage father1 if he stays with him1 had been a considerable step4 ,hor4 ,i thought so too1 till you destroyed the hopes ,i had conceived of it yourself1 by showing me the incapacity of savage parents to make use of it3 ,and since we are still as far from the origin of society as ever we were1 or ever can be1 in my opinion1 ,i desire1 that before you proceed to that main point1 you would answer what you have put off once already1 which is my question concerning the notions of right and wrong3 ,i cannot be easy before ,i have your sentiments on this head4 ,cleo4 ,your demand is very reasonable1 and ,i will satisfy you as well as ,i can4 ,a man of sense1 learning1 and experience1 that has been well educated1 will always find out the difference between right and wrong in things diametrically opposite2 and there are certain facts1 which he will always condemn1 and others which he will always approve of3 ,to kill a member of the same society that has not offended us1 or to rob him1 will always be bad2 and to cure the sick1 and be beneficent to the public1 he will always pronounce to be good actions3 and for a man to do as he will be done by1 he will always say is a good rule in life2 and not only men of great accomplishments1 and such as have learned to think abstractly1 but all men of middling capacities1 that have been brought up in society1 will agree in this1 in all countries and in all ages4 ,nothing likewise seems more true to all1 that have made any tolerable use of their faculty of thinking1 than that out of the society1 before any division was made1 either by contract or otherwise1 all men would have an equal right to the earth3 ,but do you believe that our wild man1 if he had never seen any other human creature but his savage consort and his progeny1 would ever have entertained the same notions of right and wrong8 ,hor4 ,hardly2 his small capacity in the art of reasoning1 would hinder him from doing it so justly2 and the power he found he had over his children1 would render him very arbitrary4 ,cleo4 ,but without that incapacity1 suppose that at threescore he was1 by a miracle1 to receive a fine judgment1 and the faculty of thinking and reasoning consequentially1 in as great a perfection as the wisest man ever did1 do you think he would ever alter his notion of the right he had to every thing he could manage1 or have other sentiments in relation to himself and his progeny1 than from his behaviour it appeared he entertained1 when he seemed to act almost altogether by instinct8 ,hor4 ,without doubt3 ,for1 if judgment and reason were given him1 what could hinder him from making use of those faculties1 as well as others do8 ,cleo4 ,you seem not to consider1 that no man can reason but posteriori1 from something that he knows1 or supposes to be true3 ,what ,i said of the difference between right and wrong1 ,i spoke of persons who remembered their education1 and lived in society2 or1 at least1 such as plainly saw others of their own species1 that were independent of them1 and either their equals or superiors4 ,hor4 ,i begin to believe you are in the right3 ,but at second thoughts1 why might not a man1 with great justice1 think himself the sovereign of a place1 where he knew no human creature but his own wife1 and the descendents of both8 ,cleo4 ,with all my heart3 ,but may there not be an hundred such savages in the world with large families1 that might never meet1 nor ever hear of one another8 ,hor4 ,a thousand1 if you will1 and then there would be so many natural sovereigns4 ,cleo4 ,very well3 what ,i would have you observe1 is1 that there are things which are commonly esteemed to be eternal truths1 that an hundred or a thousand people of fine sense and judgment1 could have no notion of4 ,what if it should be true1 that every man is born with this domineering spirit1 and that we cannot be cured of it1 but by our commerce with others1 and the experience of facts1 by which we are convinced that we have no such right8 ,let us examine a man's whole life1 from his infancy to his grave1 and see which of the two seems to be most natural to him2 a desire of superiority1 and grasping every thing to himself1 or a tendency to act according to the reasonable notions of right and wrong2 and we shall find1 that1 in his early youth1 the first is very conspicuous2 that nothing appears of the second before he has received some instructions1 and that this latter will always have less influence upon his actions1 the more uncivilized he remains3 ,from whence ,i infer1 that the notions of right and wrong are acquired2 for if they were as natural1 or if they affected us as early as the opinion1 or rather the instinct we are born with1 of taking every thing to be our own1 no child would ever cry for his eldest brother's play-things4 ,hor4 ,i think there is no right more natural1 nor more reasonable1 than that which men have over their children2 and what we owe our parents can never be repaid4 ,cleo4 ,the obligations we have to good parents for their care and education1 is certainly very great4 ,hor4 ,that is the least4 ,we are indebted to them for our being2 we might be educated by an hundred others1 but without them we could never have existed4 ,cleo4 ,so we could have no malt liquor1 without the ground that bears the barley3 ,i know no obligations for benefits that never were intended4 ,should a man see a fine parcel of cherries1 be tempted to eat1 and devour them accordingly with great satisfaction1 it is possible he might swallow some of the stones1 which we know by experience do not digest3 ,if twelve or fourteen months after1 he should find a little sprig of a cherry-tree growing in a field1 where nobody would expect it1 if he recollected the time1 he had been there before1 it is not improbable that he might guess at the true reason how it came there4 ,it is possible1 likewise1 that for curiosity's sake1 this man might take up this plant1 and take care of it2 ,i am well assured1 that whatever became of it afterwards1 the right he would have to it from the merit of his action1 would be the same which a savage would have to his child4 ,hor4 ,i think there would be a vast difference between the one and the other3 the cherry-stone was never part of himself1 nor mixed with his blood4 ,cleo4 ,pardon me2 all the difference1 as vast as you take it to be1 can only consist in this1 ,that the cherry-stone was not part of the man who swallowed it1 so long1 nor received so great an alteration in its figure1 whilst it was1 as some other things which the savage swallowed1 were1 and received in their figure1 whilst they stayed with him4 ,hor4 ,but he that swallowed the cherry-stone1 did nothing to it2 it produced a plant as a vegetable1 which it might have done as well without his swallowing it4 ,cleo4 ,that is true2 and ,i own1 that as to the cause to which the plant owes its existence1 you are in the right3 but ,i plainly spoke as to the merit of the action2 which in either case could only proceed from their intentions as free agents2 and the savage might1 and would in all probability act with as little design1 to get a child1 as the other had eat cherries in order to plant a tree4 ,it is commonly said1 that our children are our own flesh and blood3 but this way of speaking is strangely figurative4 ,however1 allow it to be just1 though rhetoricians have no name for it1 what does it prove1 what benevolence in us1 what kindness to others in the intention8 ,hor4 ,you shall say what you please1 but ,i think1 that nothing can endear children to their parents more1 than the reflection that they are their own flesh and blood4 ,cleo4 ,i am of your opinion2 and it is a plain demonstration of the superlative value we have for our own selves1 and every thing that comes from us1 if it be good1 and counted laudable2 whereas1 other things that are offensive1 though equally our own1 are in compliment to ourselves1 industriously concealed2 and1 as soon as it is agreed upon that any thing is unseemly1 and rather a disgrace to us than otherwise1 presently it becomes ill manners to name1 or so much as to hint at it4 ,the contents of the stomach are variously disposed of1 but we have no hand in that2 and whether they go to the blood1 or elsewhere1 the last thing we did to them voluntarily1 and with our knowledge1 was swallowing them2 and whatever is afterwards performed by the animal economy1 a man contributes no more to1 than he does to the going of his watch4 ,this is another instance of the unjust claim we lay to every performance we are but in the least concerned in1 if good comes of it1 though nature does all the work2 but whoever places a merit in his prolific faculty1 ought likewise to expect the blame1 when he has the stone1 or a fever4 ,without this violent principle of innate folly1 no rational creature would value himself on his free agency1 and at the same time accept of applause for actions that are visibly independent of his will4 ,life in all creatures is a compound action1 but the share they have in it themselves1 is only passive4 ,we are forced to breathe before we know it2 and our continuance palpably depends upon the guardianship and perpetual tutelage of nature2 whilst every part of her works1 ourselves not excepted1 is an impenetrable secret to us1 that eludes all inquiries4 ,nature furnishes us with all the substance of our food herself1 nor does she trust to our wisdom for an appetite to crave it2 to chew it1 she teaches us by instinct1 and bribes us to it by pleasure4 ,this seeming to be an action of choice1 and ourselves being conscious of the performance1 we perhaps may be said to have a part in it2 but the moment after1 nature resumes her care1 and again withdrawn from our knowledge1 preserves us in a mysterious manner1 without any help or concurrence of ours1 that we are sensible of4 ,since1 then1 the management of what we have eat and drank remains entirely under the direction of nature1 what honour or shame ought we to receive from any part of the product1 whether it is to serve as a doubtful means toward generation1 or yields to vegetation a less fallible assistance8 ,it is nature that prompts us to propagate as well as to eat2 and a savage man multiplies his kind by instinct as other animals do1 without more thought or design of preserving his species1 than a new-born infant has of keeping itself alive1 in the action of sucking4 ,hor4 ,yet nature gave the different instincts to both1 for those reasons4 ,cleo4 ,without doubt2 but what ,i mean1 is1 that the reason of the thing is as much the motive of action in the one1 as it is in the other2 and ,i verily believe1 that a wild woman who had never seen1 or not minded the production of any young animals1 would have several children before she would guess at the real cause of them2 any more than if she had the cholic1 she would suspect that it proceeded from some delicious fruit she had eaten2 especially if she had feasted upon it for several months1 without perceiving any inconveniency from it4 ,children1 all the world over1 are brought forth with pain1 more or less1 which seems to have no affinity with pleasure2 and an untaught creature1 however docile and attentive1 would want several clear experiments1 before it would believe that the one could produce or be the cause of the other4 ,hor4 ,most people marry in hopes1 and with a design of having children4 ,cleo4 ,i doubt1 not2 and believe that there are as many that would rather not have children1 or at least not so fast as often they come1 as there are that wish for them1 even in the state of matrimony2 but out of it1 in the amours of thousands1 that revel in enjoyments1 children are reckoned to be the greatest calamity that can befal them2 and often what criminal love gave birth to1 without thought more criminal pride destroys1 with purposed and considerate cruelty4 ,but all this belongs to people in society1 that are knowing1 and well acquainted with the natural consequences of things2 what ,i urged1 ,i spoke of a savage4 ,hor4 ,still the end of love1 between the different sexes1 in all animals1 is the preservation of their species4 ,cleo4 ,i have allowed that already4 ,but once more the savage is not prompted to love from that consideration3 he propagates before he knows the consequence of it2 and ,i much question1 whether the most civilized pair1 in the most chaste of their embraces1 ever acted from the care of their species1 as a real principle4 ,a rich man may1 with great impatience1 wish for a son to inherit his name and his estate2 perhaps he may marry from no other motive1 and for no other purpose2 but all the satisfaction he seems to receive1 from the flattering prospect of an happy posterity1 can only arise from a pleasing reflection on himself1 as the cause of those descendants4 ,how much soever this man's posterity might be thought to owe him for their being1 it is certain1 that the motive he acted from1 was to oblige himself3 still here is a wishing for posterity1 a thought and design of getting children1 which no wild couple could have to boast of2 yet they would be vain enough to look upon themselves1 as the principal cause of all their offspring and descendants1 though they should live to see the fifth or sixth generation4 ,hor4 ,i can find no vanity in that1 and ,i should think them so myself4 ,cleo4 ,yet1 as free agents1 it would be plain1 that they had contributed nothing to the existence of their prosperity4 ,hor4 ,now surely1 you have overshot the mark2 nothing8 ,cleo4 ,no1 nothing1 even to that of their own children1 knowingly2 if you will allow that men have their appetites from nature4 ,there is but one real cause in the universe1 to produce that infinite variety of stupendous effects1 and all the mighty labours that are performed in nature1 either within1 or far beyond the reach of our senses4 ,parents are the efficients of their offspring1 with no more truth or propriety of speech1 than the tools of an artificer1 that were made and contrived by himself1 are the cause of the most elaborate of his works4 ,the senseless engine that raises water into the copper1 and the passive mash-tub1 have between them1 as great a share in the art and action of brewing1 as the liveliest male and female ever had in the production of an animal4 ,hor4 ,you make stocks and stones of us2 is it not in our choice to act1 or not to act8 ,cleo4 ,yes1 it is my choice now1 either to run my head against the wall2 or to let it alone2 but1 ,i hope1 it does not puzzle you much to guess which of the two ,i shall choose4 ,hor4 ,but do not we move our bodies as we list2 and is not every action determined by the will8 ,cleo4 ,what signifies that1 where there is a passion that manifestly sways1 and with a strict hand governs that will8 ,hor4 ,still we act with consciousness1 and are intelligent creatures4 ,cleo4 ,not in the affair ,i speak of2 where1 willing or not willing1 we are violently urged from within1 and in a manner compelled not only to assist in1 but likewise to long for1 and1 in spite of our teeth1 be highly pleased with a performance that infinitely surpasses our understanding4 ,the comparison ,i made is just1 in every part of it2 for the most loving1 and1 if you will1 the most sagacious couple you can conceive1 are as ignorant in the mystery of generation1 nay1 must remain1 after having had twenty children together1 as much uninformed1 and as little conscious of nature's transactions1 and what has been wrought within them1 as inanimate utensils are of the most mystic and most ingenious operations they have been employed in4 ,hor4 ,i do not know any man more expert in tracing human pride1 or more severe in humbling it than yourself2 but when the subject comes in your way1 you do not know how to leave it4 ,i wish you would1 at once1 go over to the origin of society2 which1 how to derive1 or bring about at all1 from the savage family1 as we left it1 is past my skill4 ,it is impossible but those children1 when they grew up1 would quarrel on innumerable occasions3 if men had but three appetites to gratify1 that are the most obvious1 they could never live together in peace1 without government3 for though they all paid a deference to the father1 yet if he was a man void of all prudence1 that could give them no good rules to walk by1 ,i am persuaded that they would live in a perpetual state of war2 and the more numerous his offspring grew1 the more the old savage would be puzzled between his desire and incapacity of government4 ,as they increased in numbers1 they would be forced to extend their limits1 and the spot they were born upon would not hold them long3 nobody would be willing to leave his native vale1 especially if it was a fruitful one4 ,the more ,i think upon it1 and the more ,i look into such multitudes1 the less ,i can conceive which way they could ever be formed into a society4 ,cleo4 ,the first thing that could make man associate1 would be common danger1 which unites the greatest enemies3 this danger they would certainly be in1 from wild beasts1 considering that no uninhabited country is without them1 and the defenceless condition in which men come into the world4 ,this often must have been a cruel article1 to prevent the increase of our species4 ,hor4 ,the supposition then1 that this wild man1 with his progeny1 should for fifty years live undisturbed1 is not very probable2 and ,i need not trouble myself about our savages being embarrassed with too numerous an offspring4 ,cleo4 ,you say right2 there is no probability1 that a man and his progeny1 all unarmed1 should so long escape the ravenous hunger of beasts of prey1 that are to live upon what animals they can get2 that leave no place unsearched1 nor pains untried1 to come at food1 though with the hazard of their lives4 ,the reason why ,i made that supposition1 was to show you1 first1 the improbability that a wild and altogether untaught man should have the knowledge and discretion which ,sir ,william ,temple gives him2 secondly1 that children who conversed with their own species1 though they were brought up by savages1 would be governable2 and consequently1 that all such1 when come to maturity1 would be fit for society1 how ignorant and unskilful soever their parents might have been4 ,hor4 ,i thank you for it2 for it has shown me1 that the very first generation of the most brutish savages1 was sufficient to produce sociable creatures2 but that to produce a man fit to govern others1 much more was required4 ,cleo4 ,i return to my conjecture concerning the first motive that would make savages associate3 it is not possible to know any thing with certainty of beginnings1 where men were destitute of letters2 but ,i think1 that the nature of the thing makes it highly probable1 that it must have been their common danger from beasts of prey2 as well such sly ones as lay in wait for their children1 and the defenceless animals1 men made use of for themselves1 as the more bold1 that would openly attack grown men and women4 ,what much confirms me in this opinion is1 the general agreement of all the relations we have1 from the most ancient times1 in different countries3 for1 in the infancy of all nations1 profane history is stuffed with the accounts of the conflicts men had with wild beasts4 ,it took up the chief labours of the heroes of remotest antiquity1 and their greatest prowess was shown in killing of dragons1 and subduing of other monsters4 ,hor4 ,do you lay any stress upon sphinxes1 basilisks1 flying dragons1 and bulls that spit fire8 ,cleo4 ,as much as ,i do on modern witches4 ,but ,i believe that all those fictions had their rise from noxious beasts1 the mischiefs they did1 and other realities that struck terror into man2 and ,i believe1 that if no man had ever been seen on a horse's back1 we should never have heard of ,centaurs4 ,the prodigious force and rage that are apparent in some savage animals1 and the astonishing power1 which1 from the various poisons of venomous creatures1 we are sure must be hid in others2 the sudden and unexpected assaults of serpents1 the variety of them2 the vast bulk of crocodiles2 the irregular and uncommon shapes of some fishes1 and the wings of others1 are all things that are capable of alarming man's fear2 and it is incredible what chimeras that passion alone may produce in a terrified mind3 the dangers of the day often haunt men at night with addition of terror2 and from what they remember in their dreams1 it is easy to forge realities4 ,if you will consider1 likewise1 that the natural ignorance of man1 and his hankering after knowledge1 will augment the credulity which hope and fear first give birth to2 the desire the generality have of applause1 and the great esteem that is commonly had for the merveilleux1 and the witnesses and relaters of it3 ,if1 ,i say1 you will consider all these1 you will easily discover1 how many creatures came to be talked of1 described1 and formally painted1 that never had any existence4 ,hor4 ,i do not wonder at the origin of monstrous figures1 or the invention of any fables whatever2 but in the reason you gave for the first motive1 that would make men combine in one interest1 ,i find something very perplexing1 which ,i own ,i never thought of before4 ,when ,i reflect on the condition of man1 as you have set it before me1 naked and defenceless1 and the multitude of ravenous animals that thirst after his blood1 and are superior to him in strength1 and completely armed by nature1 it is inconceivable to me1 how our species should have subsisted4 ,cleo4 ,what you observe is well worthy our attention4 ,hor4 ,it is astonishing4 ,what filthy1 abominable beasts are lions and tigers6 ,cleo4 ,i think them to be very fine creatures2 there is nothing ,i admire more than a lion4 ,hor4 ,we have strange accounts of his generosity and gratitude2 but do you believe them8 ,cleo4 ,i do not trouble my head about them3 ,what ,i admire is his fabric1 his structure1 and his rage1 so justly proportioned to one another4 ,there are order1 symmetry1 and superlative wisdom to be observed in all the works of nature2 but she has not a machine1 of which every part more visibly answers the end for which the whole was formed4 ,hor4 ,the destruction of other animals4 ,cleo4 ,that is true2 but how conspicuous is that end1 without mystery or uncertainty6 that grapes were made for wine1 and man for society1 are truths not accomplished in every individual3 but there is a real majesty stamped on every single lion1 at the sight of which the stoutest animals submit and tremble4 ,when we look upon and examine his massy talons1 the size of them1 and the laboured firmness with which they are fixed in1 and fastened to that prodigious paw2 his dreadful teeth1 the strength of his jaws1 and the width of his mouth equally terrible1 the use of them is obvious2 but when we consider1 moreover1 the make of his limbs1 the toughness of his flesh and tendons1 the solidity of his bones1 beyond that of other animals1 and the whole frame of him1 together with his never-ceasing anger1 speed1 and agility2 whilst in the desart he ranges king of beasts6 ,when1 ,i say1 we consider all these things1 it is stupidity not to see the design of nature1 and with what amazing skill the beautiful creature is contrived for offensive war and conquest4 ,hor4 ,you are a good painter4 ,but after all1 why would you judge of a creature's nature from what it was perverted to1 rather than from its original1 the state it was first produced in8 ,the lion in ,paradise was a gentle1 loving creature4 ,hear what ,milton says of his behaviour before ,adam and ,eve1 as they sate recline on the soft downy bank1 damask'd with flowers3 --------,about them frisking play'd ,all beasts of the earth1 since wild1 and of all chase ,in wood or wilderness1 forest or den2 ,sporting the lion ramp'd1 and in his paw ,dandel'd the kid2 bears1 tigers1 ounces1 pards1 ,gambol'd before them4-------- ,what was it the lion fed upon2 what sustenance had all these beasts of prey in ,paradise8 ,cleo4 ,i do not know4 ,nobody who believes the ,bible1 doubts1 but that the whole state of ,paradise1 and the intercourse between ,god and the first man1 were as much preternatural1 as the creation out of nothing2 and1 therefore1 it cannot be supposed1 that they should be accounted for by human reason2 and if they were1 ,moses would not be answerable for more than he advanced himself4 ,the history which he has given us of those times is extremely succinct1 and ought not to be charged with any thing contained in the glosses and paraphrases that have been made upon it by others4 ,hor4 ,milton has said nothing of ,paradise1 but what he could justify from ,moses4 ,cleo4 ,it is no where to be proved1 from ,moses1 that the state of innocence lasted so long1 that goats1 or any viviparous animals could1 have bred and brought forth young ones4 ,hor4 ,you mean that there could have been no kid4 ,i should never have made that cavil in so fine a poem4 ,it was not in my thoughts3 what ,i aimed at in repeating those lines1 was to show you how superfluous and impertinent a lion must have been in ,paradise2 and that those who pretend to find fault with the works of nature1 might have censured her with justice1 for lavishing and throwing away so many excellencies upon a great beast1 to no purpose4 ,what a fine variety of destructive weapons1 would they say1 what prodigious strength of limbs and sinews are here given to a creature6 ,what to do with8 to be quiet and dandle a kid4 ,i own1 that to me1 this province1 the employment assigned to the lion1 seems to be as proper and well chosen1 as if you would make a nurse of ,alexander the ,great4 ,cleo4 ,you might make as many flights upon a lion now1 if you saw him asleep4 ,nobody would think that a bull had occasion for horns1 who had never seen him otherwise than quietly grazing among a parcel of cows2 but1 if one should see him attacked by dogs1 by a wolf1 or a rival of his own species1 he would soon find out that his horns were of great use and service to him4 ,the lion was not made to be always in ,paradise4 ,hor4 ,there ,i would have you4 ,if the lion was contrived for purposes to be served and executed out of ,paradise1 then it is manifest1 from the very creation1 that the fall of man was determined and predestinated4 ,cleo4 ,foreknown it was3 nothing could be hid from ,omniscience2 that is certain3 ,but that it was predestinated so as to have prejudiced1 or anywise influenced the free will of ,adam1 ,i utterly deny4 ,but that word1 predestinated1 has made so much noise in the world1 and the thing itself has been the cause of so many fatal quarrels1 and is so inexplicable1 that ,i am resolved never to engage in any dispute concerning it4 ,hor4 ,i cannot make you2 but what you have extolled so much1 must have cost the lives of thousands of our species2 and it is a wonder to me how men1 when they were but few1 could possibly defend themselves1 before they had fire arms1 or at least bows and arrows2 for what number of naked men and women1 would be a match for one couple of lions8 ,cleo4 ,yet1 here we are2 and none of those animals are suffered to be wild1 in any civilized nation2 our superior understanding has got the start of them4 ,hor4 ,my reason tells me it must be that2 but ,i cannot help observing1 that when human understanding serves your purpose to solve any thing1 it is always ready and full grown2 but at other times1 knowledge and reasoning are the work of time1 and men are not capable of thinking justly1 until after many generations4 ,pray1 before men had arms1 what could their understanding do against lions1 and what hindered wild beasts from devouring mankind1 as soon as they were born8 ,cleo4 ,providence4 ,hor4 ,daniel1 indeed1 was saved by miracle2 but what is that to the rest of mankind8 great numbers1 we know1 have1 at different times1 been torn to pieces by savage beasts3 what ,i want to know1 is1 the reason that any of them escaped1 and the whole species was not destroyed by them2 when men had yet no weapons to defend1 nor strong holds to shelter themselves from the fury of those merciless creatures4 ,cleo4 ,i have named it to you already1 ,providence4 ,hor4 ,but which way can you prove this miraculous assistance8 ,cleo4 ,you still talk of miracles1 and ,i speak of ,providence1 or the all-governing ,wisdom of ,god4 ,hor4 ,if you can1 demonstrate to me1 how that ,wisdom interposed between our species and that of lions1 in the beginning of the world1 without miracle1 any more than it does at present1 eris mihi magnus ,apollo3 for now1 ,i am sure1 a wild lion would prey upon a naked man1 as soon1 at least1 as he would upon an ox or an horse4 ,cleo4 ,will not you allow me1 that all properties1 instincts1 and what we call the nature of things1 animate or inanimate1 are the produce1 the effects of that ,wisdom8 ,hor4 ,i never thought otherwise4 ,cleo4 ,then it will not be difficult to prove this to you4 ,lions are never brought forth wild1 but in very hot countries1 as bears are the product of the cold4 ,but the generality of our species1 which loves moderate warmth1 are most delighted with the middle regions4 ,men may1 against their wills1 be inured to intense cold1 or by use and patience1 accustom themselves to excessive heat2 but a mild air1 and weather between both extremes1 being more agreeable to human bodies1 the greatest part of mankind would naturally settle in temperate climates1 and with the same conveniency1 as to every thing else1 never choose any other4 ,this would very much lessen the danger men would be in from the fiercest and most irresistible wild beasts4 ,hor4 ,but would lions and tigers in hot countries keep so close within their bounds1 and bears in cold ones1 as never to straggle or stray beyond them8 ,cleo4 ,i do not suppose they would2 and men1 as well as cattle1 have often been picked up by lions1 far from the places where these were whelped4 ,no wild beasts are more fatal to our species1 than often we are to one another2 and men pursued by their enemies have fled into climates and countries1 which they would never have chose4 ,avarice likewise and curiosity1 have1 without force or necessity1 often exposed men to dangers1 which they might have avoided1 if they had been satisfied with what nature required2 and laboured for self-preservation in that simple manner1 which creatures less vain and fantastical content themselves with4 ,in all these cases1 ,i do not question1 but multitudes of our species have suffered from savage beasts1 and other noxious animals2 and on their account only1 ,i verily believe1 it would have been impossible for any number of men1 to have settled or subsisted in either very hot or very cold countries1 before the invention of bows and arrows1 or better arms4 ,but all this does nothing to overthrow my assertion3 what ,i wanted to prove1 is1 that all creatures choosing by instinct that degree of heat or cold which is most natural to them1 there would be room enough in the world for man to multiply his species1 for many ages1 without running almost any risk of being devoured either by lions or by bears2 and that the most savage man would find this out1 without the help of his reason4 ,this ,i call the work of ,providence2 by which ,i mean the unalterable wisdom of the ,supreme ,being1 in the harmonious disposition of the universe2 the fountain of that incomprehensible chain of causes1 on which all events have their undoubted dependance4 ,hor4 ,you have made this out better than ,i had expected2 but ,i am afraid1 that what you alleged as the first motive towards society1 is come to nothing by it4 ,cleo4 ,do not fear that2 there are other savage beasts1 against which men could not guard themselves unarmed1 without joining1 and mutual assistance3 in temperate climates1 most uncultivated countries abound with wolves4 ,hor4 ,i have seen them in ,germany2 they are of the size of a large mastiff2 but ,i thought their chief prey had been sheep4 ,cleo4 ,any thing they can conquer is their prey3 they are desperate creatures1 and will fall upon men1 cows1 and horses1 as well as upon sheep1 when they are very hungry3 they have teeth like mastiffs2 but besides them they have sharp claws to tear with1 which dogs have not4 ,the stoutest man is hardly equal to them in strength2 but what is worse1 they often come in troops1 and whole villages have been attacked by them2 they have five1 six1 and more whelps at a litter1 and would soon over-run a country where they breed1 if men did not combine against1 and make it their business to destroy them4 ,wild boars likewise1 are terrible creatures1 that few large forests1 and uninhabited places1 in temperate climates1 are free from4 ,hor4 ,those tusks of theirs are dreadful weapons4 ,cleo4 ,and they are much superior to wolves in bulk and strength4 ,history is full of the mischief they have done in ancient times1 and of the renown that valiant men have gained by conquering them4 ,hor4 ,that is true2 but those heroes that fought monsters in former days1 were well armed2 at least1 the generality of them2 but what could a number of naked men1 before they had any arms at all1 have to oppose to the teeth and claws of ravenous wolves that came in troops2 and what impression could the greatest blow a man can strike1 make upon the thick bristly hide of a wild boar8 ,cleo4 ,as on the one hand1 ,i have named every thing that man has to fear from wild beasts2 so1 on the other1 we ought not to forget the things that are in his favour4 ,in the first place1 a wild man inured to hardship1 would far exceed a tame one1 in all feats of strength1 nimbleness and activity2 in the second1 his anger would sooner and more usefully transport and assist him in his savage state1 than it can do in society2 where1 from his infancy he is so many ways taught1 and forced in his own defence1 to cramp and stifle with his fears the noble gift of nature4 ,in wild creatures we see1 that most of them1 when their own life or that of their young ones is at stake1 fight with great obstinacy1 and continue fighting to the last1 and do what mischief they can1 whilst they have breath1 without regard to their being overmatched1 or the disadvantages they labour under4 ,it is observed likewise1 that the more untaught and inconsiderate creatures are1 the more entirely they are swayed by the passion that is uppermost3 natural affection would make wild men and women too1 sacrifice their lives1 and die for their children2 but they would die fighting2 and one wolf would not find it an easy matter to carry of a child from his watchful parents1 if they were both resolute1 though they were naked4 ,as to man's being born defenceless1 it is not to be conceived1 that he should long know the strength of his arms1 without being acquainted with the articulation of his fingers1 or at least1 what is owing to it1 his faculty of grasping and holding fast2 and the most untaught savage would make use of clubs and staves before he came to maturity4 ,as the danger men are in from wild beasts would be of the highest consequence1 so it would employ their utmost care and industry3 they would dig holes1 and invent other stratagems1 to distress their enemies1 and destroy their young ones3 as soon as they found out fire1 they would make use of that element to guard themselves and annoy their foes3 by the help of it they would soon learn to sharpen wood1 which presently would put them upon making spears and other weapons that would cut4 ,when men are angry enough with creatures to strike them1 and these are running away1 or flying from them1 they are apt to throw at what they cannot reach3 this1 as soon as they had spears1 would naturally lead them to the invention of darts and javelins4 ,here1 perhaps1 they may stop a while2 but the same chain of thinking would1 in time1 produce bows and arrows3 the elasticity of sticks and boughs of trees is very obvious2 and to make strings of the guts of animals1 ,i dare say1 is more ancient than the use of hemp4 ,experience teaches us1 that men may have all these1 and many more weapons1 and be very expert in the use of them1 before any manner of government1 except that of parents over their children1 is to be seen among them3 it is likewise very well known1 that savages furnished with no better arms1 when they are strong enough in number1 will venture to attack1 and even hunt after the fiercest wild beasts1 lions and tigers not excepted4 ,another thing is to be considered1 that likewise favours our species1 and relates to the nature of the creatures1 of which intemperate climates man has reason to stand in bodily fear of4 ,hor4 ,wolves and wild boars8 ,cleo4 ,yes4 ,that great numbers of our species have been devoured by the first1 is uncontested2 but they most naturally go in quest of sheep and poultry2 and1 as long as they can get carrion1 or any thing to fill their bellies with1 they seldom hunt after men1 or other large animals2 which is the reason1 that in the summer our species1 as to personal insults1 have not much to fear from them4 ,it is certain likewise1 that savage swine will hunt after men1 and many of their maws have been crammed with human flesh3 but they naturally feed on acorns1 chestnuts1 beach-mast1 and other vegetables2 and they are only carnivorous upon occasion1 and through necessity1 when they can get nothing else2 in great frosts1 when the country is bare1 and every thing covered with snow4 ,it is evident1 then1 that human creatures are not in any great and immediate danger from either of these species of beasts1 but in hard winters1 which happen but seldom in temperate climates4 ,but as they are our perpetual enemies1 by spoiling and devouring every thing that may serve for the sustenance of man1 it is highly necessary1 that we should not only be always upon our guard against them1 but likewise never cease to assist one another in routing and destroying them4 ,hor4 ,i plainly see1 that mankind might subsist and survive to multiply1 and get the mastery over all other creatures that should oppose them2 and as this could never have been brought about1 unless men had assisted one another against savage beasts1 it is possible that the necessity men were in of joining and uniting together1 was the first step toward society4 ,thus far ,i am willing to allow you to have proved your main point3 but to ascribe all this to ,providence1 otherwise than that nothing is done without the ,divine permission1 seems inconsistent with the ideas we have of a perfectly good and merciful ,being4 ,it is possible1 that all poisonous animals may have something in them that is beneficial to men2 and ,i will not dispute with you1 whether the most venomous of all the serpents which ,lucan has made mention of1 did not contain some antidote1 or other fine medicine1 still undiscovered3 but when ,i look upon the vast variety of ravenous and blood-thirsty creatures1 that are not only superior to us in strength1 but likewise visibly armed by nature1 as it were on purpose for our destruction2 when1 ,i say1 ,i look upon these1 ,i can find out no use for them1 nor what they could be designed for1 unless it be to punish us3 but ,i can much less conceive1 that the ,divine ,wisdom should have made them the means without which men could not have been civilized4 ,how many thousands of our species must have been devoured in the conflicts with them6 ,cleo4 ,ten troops of wolves1 with fifty in each1 would make a terrible havoc1 in a long winter1 among a million of our species with their hands tied behind them2 but among half that number1 one pestilence has been known to slaughter more1 than so many wolves could have eaten in the same time2 notwithstanding the great resistance that was made against it1 by approved of medicines and able physicians4 ,it is owing to the principle of pride we are born with1 and the high value we all1 for the sake of one1 have for our species1 that men imagine the whole universe to be principally made for their use2 and this error makes them commit a thousand extravagancies1 and have pitiful and most unworthy notions of ,god and his works4 ,it is not greater cruelty1 or more unnatural1 in a wolf to eat a piece of a man1 than it is in a man to eat part of a lamb or a chicken4 ,what1 or how many purposes wild beasts were made for1 is not for us to determine2 but that they were made1 we know2 and that some of them must have been very calamitous to every infant nation1 and settlement of men1 is almost as certain3 this you was fully persuaded of2 and thought1 moreover1 that they must have been such an obstacle to the very subsistence of our species1 as was insurmountable3 ,in answer to this difficulty1 which you started1 ,i showed you1 from the different instincts and peculiar tendencies of animals1 that in nature a manifest provision was made for our species3 by which1 notwithstanding the rage and power of the fiercest beasts1 we should make a shift1 naked and defenceless1 to escape their fury1 so as to be able to maintain ourselves and multiply our kind1 till by our numbers1 and arms acquired by our own industry1 we could put to flight1 or destroy all savage beasts without exception1 whatever spot of the globe we might have a mind to cultivate and settle on4 ,the necessary blessings we receive from the sun1 are obvious to a child2 and it is demonstrable1 that without it1 none of the living creatures that are now upon the earth1 could subsist4 ,but if it were of no other use1 being eight hundred thousand times bigger than the earth at least1 one thousandth part of it would do our business as well1 if it was but nearer to us in proportion4 ,from this consideration alone1 ,i am persuaded1 that the sun was made to enlighten and cherish other bodies1 besides this planet of ours4 ,fire and water were designed for innumerable purposes2 and among the uses that are made of them1 some are immensely different from others4 ,but whilst we receive the benefit of these1 and are only intent on ourselves1 it is highly probable1 that there are thousands of things1 and perhaps our own machines among them1 that1 in the vast system of the universe1 are now serving some very wise ends1 which we shall never know4 ,according to that plan of this globe1 ,i mean the scheme of government1 in relation to the living creatures that inhabit the earth1 the destruction of animals is as necessary as the generation of them4 ,hor4 ,i have learned that from the ,fable of the ,bees2 and ,i believe what ,i have read there to be very true2 that1 if any one species was to be exempt from death1 it would in time crush all the rest to pieces1 though the first were sheep1 and the latter all lions3 but that the ,supreme ,being should have introduced society at the expence of so many lives of our species1 ,i cannot believe1 when it might have been done much better in a milder way4 ,cleo4 ,we are speaking of what probably was done1 and not of what might have been done4 ,there is no question1 but the same ,power that made whales1 might have made us seventy feet high1 and given us strength in proportion4 ,but since the plan of this globe requires1 and you think it necessary yourself1 that in every species some should die almost as fast as others are born1 why should you take away any of the means of dying8 ,hor4 ,are there not diseases enough1 physicians and apothecaries1 as well as wars by sea and land1 that may take off more than the redundancy of our species8 ,cleo4 ,they may1 it is true2 but in fact they are not always sufficient to do this3 and in populous nations we see1 that war1 wild beasts1 hanging1 drowning1 and an hundred casualties together1 with sickness and all its attendants1 are hardly a match for one invisible faculty of ours1 which is the instinct men have to preserve their species4 ,every thing is easy to the ,deity2 but to speak after an human manner1 it is evident1 that in forming this earth1 and every thing that is in it1 no less wisdom or solicitude was required1 in contriving the various ways and means1 to get rid and destroy animals1 than seems to have been employed in producing them2 and it is as demonstrable1 that our bodies were made on purpose not to last beyond such a period1 as it is1 that some houses are built with a design not to stand longer than such a term of years4 ,but it is death itself to which our aversion by nature is universal2 as to the manner of dying1 men differ in their opinions2 and ,i never heard of one yet that was generally liked of4 ,hor4 ,but nobody chooses a cruel one4 ,what an unspeakable and infinitely excruciating torment must it be1 to be torn to pieces1 and eat alive by a savage beast6 ,cleo4 ,not greater1 ,i can assure you2 than are daily occasioned by the gout in the stomach1 and the stone in the bladder4 ,hor4 ,which way can you give me this assurance2 how can you prove it8 ,cleo4 ,from our fabric itself1 the frame of human bodies1 that cannot admit of any torment1 infinitely excruciating4 ,the degrees of pain1 as well as of pleasure1 in this life are limited1 and exactly proportioned to every one's strength2 whatever exceeds that1 takes away the senses2 and whoever has once fainted away with the extremity of any torture1 knows the fall extent of what here he can suffer1 if he remembers what he felt4 ,the real mischief which wild beasts have done to our species1 and the calamities they have brought upon it1 are not to be compared to the cruel usage1 and the multiplicity of mortal injuries which men have received from one another4 ,set before your eyes a robust warrior1 that having lost a limb in battle1 is afterwards trampled upon by twenty horses2 and tell me1 pray1 whether you think1 that lying thus helpless with most of his ribs broke1 and a fractured skull1 in the agony of death1 for several hours1 he suffers less than if a lion had dispatched him8 ,hor4 ,they are both very bad4 ,cleo4 ,in the choice of things we are more often directed by the caprice of fashions1 and the custom of the age1 than we are by solid reason1 or our own understanding4 ,there is no greater comfort in dying of a dropsy1 and in being eaten by worms1 than there is in being drowned at sea1 and becoming the prey of fishes4 ,but in our narrow way of thinking1 there is something that subverts and corrupt our judgment2 how else could persons of known elegancy in their taste1 prefer rotting and stinking in a loathsome sepulchre1 to their being burnt in the open air to inoffensive ashes8 ,hor4 ,i freely own1 that ,i have an aversion to every thing that is shocking and unnatural4 ,cleo4 ,what you call shocking1 ,i do not know2 but nothing is more common to nature1 or more agreeable to her ordinary course1 than that creatures should live upon one another4 ,the whole system of animated beings on the earth seems to be built upon this2 and there is not one species that we know of1 that has not another that feeds upon it1 either alive or dead2 and most kind of fish are forced to live upon fish4 ,that this in the last-mentioned1 was not an omission or neglect1 is evident from the large provision nature has made for it1 far exceeding any thing she has done for other animals4 ,hor4 ,you mean the prodigious quantity of roe they spawn4 ,cleo4 ,yes2 and that the eggs contained in them1 receive not their fecundity until after they are excluded2 by which means the female may be filled with as many of them as her belly can hold1 and the eggs themselves may be more closely crowded together1 than would be consistent with the admission of any substance from the male3 without this1 one fish could not bring forth yearly such a prodigious shoal4 ,hor4 ,but might not the aura seminalis of the male be subtle enough to penetrate the whole cluster of eggs1 and influence every one of them1 without taking up any room1 as it does in fowls and other oviparous animals8 ,cleo4 ,the ostrich excepted in the first place3 in the second1 there are no other oviparous animals in which the eggs are so closely compacted together1 as they are in fish4 ,but suppose the prolific power should pervade the whole mass of them2 if all the eggs which some of the females are crammed with1 were to be impregnated whilst they are within the fish1 it is impossible but the aura seminalis1 the prolific spirit of the male1 though it took up no room itself1 would1 as it does in all other creatures1 dilate1 and more or less distend every egg2 and the least expansion of so many individuals would swell the whole roe to a bulk that would require a much greater space1 than the cavity that now contains them4 ,is not here a contrivance beyond imagination fine1 to provide for the continuance of a species1 though every individual of it should be born with an instinct to destroy it6 ,hor4 ,what you speak of1 is only true at sea1 in a considerable part of ,europe at least3 for in fresh water1 most kinds of fish do not feed on their own species1 and yet they spawn in the same manner1 and are as full of roe as all the rest3 among them1 the only great destroyer with us1 is the pike4 ,cleo4 ,and he is a very ravenous one3 ,we see in ponds1 that where pikes are suffered to be1 no other fish shall ever increase in number4 ,but in rivers1 and all waters near any land1 there are amphibious fowls1 and many sorts of them1 that live mostly upon fish3 ,of these water-fowls in many places are prodigious quantities4 ,besides these1 there are otters1 beavers1 and many other creatures that live upon fish4 ,in brooks and shallow waters1 the hearn and bittern will have their share3 ,what is taken off by them1 perhaps is but little2 but the young fry1 and the spawn that one pair of swans are able to consume in one year1 would very well serve to stock a considerable river4 ,so they are but eat1 it is no matter what eats them1 either their own species or another3 ,what ,i would prove1 is1 that nature produces no extraordinary numbers of any species1 but she has contrived means answerable to destroy them4 ,the variety of insects in the several parts of the world1 would be incredible to any one that has not examined into this matter2 and the different beauties to be observed in them is infinite3 ,but neither the beauty1 nor the variety1 of them1 are more surprising1 than the industry of nature in the multiplicity of her contrivances to kill them2 and if the care and vigilance of all other animals in destroying them were to cease at once1 in two years time the greatest part of the earth1 which is ours now1 would be theirs1 and in many countries insects would be the only inhabitants4 ,hor4 ,i have heard that whales live upon nothing else2 that must make a fine consumption4 ,cleo4 ,that is the general opinion1 ,i suppose1 because they never find any fish in them2 and because there are vast multitudes of insects in those seas1 hovering on the surface of the water4 ,this creature likewise helps to corroborate my assertion1 that in the numbers produced of every species1 the greatest regard is had to the consumption of them3 ,this prodigious animal being too big to be swallowed1 nature in it has quite altered the economy observed in all other fish2 for they are viviparous1 engender like other viviparous animals1 and have never above two or three young ones at a time4 ,for the continuance of every species among such an infinite variety of creatures as this globe yields1 it was highly necessary1 that the provision for their destruction should not be less ample1 than that which was made for the generation of them2 and therefore the solicitude of nature in procuring death1 and the consumption of animals1 is visibly superior to the care she takes to seed and preserve them4 ,hor4 ,prove that pray4 ,cleo4 ,millions of her creatures are starved every year1 and doomed to perish for want of sustenance2 but whenever any die1 there is always plenty of mouths to devour them4 ,but then1 again1 she gives all she has3 nothing is so fine or elaborate1 as that she grudges it for food2 nor is any thing more extensive or impartial than her bounty3 she thinks nothing too good for the meanest of her broods1 and all creatures are equally welcome to every thing they can find to eat4 ,how curious is the workmanship in the structure of a common fly2 how inimitable are the celerity of his wings1 and the quickness of all his motions in hot weather6 ,should a ,pythagorean1 that was likewise a good master in mechanics1 by the help of a microscope1 pry into every minute part of this changeable creature1 and duly consider the elegancy of its machinery1 would he not think it great pity1 that thousands of millions of animated beings1 so nicely wrought and admirably finished1 should every day be devoured by little birds and spiders1 of which we stand in so little need8 ,nay1 do not you think yourself1 that things would have been managed full as well1 is the quantity of flies had been less1 and there had been no spiders at all8 ,hor4 ,i remember the fable of the ,acorn and the ,pumkin too well to answer you2 ,i do not trouble my head about it4 ,cleo4 ,yet you found fault with the means1 which ,i supposed ,providence had made use of to make men associate2 ,i mean the common danger they were in from wild beasts3 though you owned the probability of its having been the first motive of their uniting4 ,hor4 ,i cannot believe that ,providence should have no greater regard to our species1 than it has to flies1 and the spawn of fish3 or that nature has ever sported with the fate of human creatures1 as she does with the lives of insects1 and been as wantonly lavish of the first1 as she seems to be of the latter4 ,i wonder how you can reconcile this to religion2 you that are such a stickler for ,christianity4 ,cleo4 ,religion has nothing to do with it4 ,but we are so full of our own species1 and the excellency of it1 that we have no leisure seriously to consider the system of this earth2 ,i mean the plan on which the economy of it is built1 in relation to the living creatures that are in and upon it4 ,hor4 ,i do not speak as to our species1 but in respect to the ,deity3 has religion nothing to do with it1 that you make ,god the author of so much cruelty and malice8 ,cleo4 ,it is impossible1 you should speak otherwise1 than in relation to our species1 when you make use of those expressions1 which can only signify to us the intentions things were done with1 or the sentiments human creatures have of them2 and nothing can be called cruel or malicious in regard to him who did it1 unless his thoughts and designs were such in doing it4 ,all actions in nature1 abstractly considered1 are equally indifferent2 and whatever it may be to individual creatures1 to die is not a greater evil to this earth1 or the whole universe1 than it is to be born4 ,hor4 ,this is making the ,first ,cause of things not an intelligent being4 ,cleo4 ,why so8 ,can you not conceive an intelligent1 and even a most wise being1 that is not only exempt from1 but likewise incapable of entertaining any malice or cruelty8 ,hor4 ,such a being could not commit1 or order things that are malicious and cruel4 ,cleo4 ,neither does ,god4 ,but this will carry us into a dispute about the origin of evil2 and from thence we must inevitably fall on free-will and predestination1 which1 as ,i have told you before1 is an inexplicable mystery ,i will never meddle with4 ,but ,i never said nor thought any thing irreverent to the ,deity3 on the contrary1 the idea ,i have of the ,supreme ,being1 is as transcendently great1 as my capacity is able to form one1 of what is incomprehensible2 and ,i could as soon believe1 that he could cease to exist1 as that he should be the author of any real evil4 ,but ,i should be glad to hear the method1 after which you think society might have been much better introduced3 ,pray1 acquaint me with that milder way you spoke of4 ,hor4 ,you have thoroughly convinced me1 that the natural love which it is pretended we have for our species1 is not greater than what many other animals have for theirs3 but if nature had actually given us an affection for one another1 as sincere and conspicuous as that which parents are seen to have for their children1 whilst they are helpless1 men would have joined together by choice2 and nothing could have hindered them from associating1 whether their numbers had been great or small1 and themselves either ignorant or knowing4 ,cleo4 ,o mentes hominum ccas6 ,o ,pectora cca6 ,hor4 ,you may exclaim as much as you please2 ,i am persuaded that this would have united men in firmer bonds of friendship1 than any common danger from wild beasts could have tied them with3 but what fault can you find with it1 and what mischief could have befallen us from mutual affection8 ,cleo4 ,it would have been inconsistent with the scheme1 the plan after which1 it is evident1 ,providence has been pleased to order and dispose of things in the universe4 ,if such an affection had been planted in man by instinct1 there never could have been any fatal quarrels among them1 nor mortal hatreds2 men could never have been cruel to one another3 in short1 there could have been no wars of any duration2 and no considerable numbers of our species could ever have been killed by one another's malice4 ,hor4 ,you would make a rare state-physician1 in prescribing war1 cruelty and malice1 for the welfare and maintenance of civil society4 ,cleo4 ,pray1 do not misrepresent me3 ,i have done no such thing3 but if you believe the world is governed by ,providence at all1 you must believe likewise1 that the ,deity makes use of means to bring about1 perform1 and execute his will and pleasure3 ,as for example1 to have war kindled1 there must be first misunderstandings and quarrels between the subjects of different nations1 and dissentions among the respective princes1 rulers1 or governors of them3 it is evident1 that the mind of man is the general mint where the means of this sort must be coined2 from whence ,i conclude1 that if ,providence had ordered matters after that mild way1 which you think would have been the best1 very little of human blood could have been spilt1 if any at all4 ,hor4 ,where would have been the inconveniency of that8 ,cleo4 ,you could not have had that variety of living creatures1 there is now2 nay1 there would not have been room for man himself1 and his sustenance3 our species alone would have overstocked the earth1 if there had been no wars1 and the common course of ,providence had not been more interrupted than it has been4 ,might ,i not justly say then1 that this is quite contrary and destructive to the scheme on which it is plain this earth was built8 ,this is a consideration which you will never give its due weight4 ,i have once already put you in mind of it1 that you yourself have allowed the destruction of animals to be as necessary as the generation of them4 ,there is as much wisdom to be seen in the contrivances how numbers of living creatures might always be taken off and destroyed1 to make room for those that continually succeed them1 as there is in making all the different sorts of them1 every one preserve their own species4 ,what do you think is the reason1 that there is but one way for us to come into the world8 ,hor4 ,because that one is sufficient4 ,cleo4 ,then from a parity of reason1 we ought to think1 that there are several ways to go out of the world1 because one would not have been sufficient4 ,now1 if for the support and maintenance of that variety of creatures which are here that they should die1 is a postulatum as necessary as it is1 that they should be born2 and you cut off or obstruct the means of dying1 and actually stop up one of the great gates1 through which we see multitudes go to death2 do you not oppose the scheme1 nay1 do you mar it less1 than if you hindered generation6 ,is there never had been war1 and no other means of dying1 besides the ordinary ones1 this globe could not have born1 or at least not maintained1 the tenth part of the people that would have been in it4 ,by war1 ,i do not mean only such as one nation has had against another1 but civil as well as foreign quarrels1 general massacres1 private murders1 poison1 sword1 and all hostile force1 by which men1 notwithstanding their pretence of love to their species1 have endeavoured to take away one another's lives throughout the world1 from the time that ,cain slew ,abel to this day4 ,hor4 ,i do not believe1 that a quarter of all these mischiefs are upon record3 but what may be known from history1 would make a prodigious number of men3 much greater1 ,i dare say1 than ever was on earth at one time3 ,but what would you infer from this8 ,they would not have been immortal2 and if they had not died in war1 they must soon after have been slain by diseases4 ,when a man of threescore is killed by a bullet in the field1 it is odds1 that he would not have lived four years longer1 though he had stayed at home4 ,cleo4 ,there are soldiers of threescore perhaps in all armies1 but men generally go to the war when they are young2 and when four or five thousand are lost in battle1 you will find the greatest number to have been under five-and-thirty3 consider now1 that many men do not marry till after that age1 who get ten or a dozen children4 ,hor4 ,if all that die by the hands of another1 were to get a dozen children before they die---- ,cleo4 ,there is no occasion for that2 ,i suppose nothing1 that is either extravagant or improbable2 but that all such1 as have been wilfully destroyed by means of their species1 should have lived1 and taken their chance with the rest2 that every thing should have befallen them1 that has befallen those that have not been killed that way2 and the same likewise to their posterity2 and that all of them should have been subject to all the casualties as well as diseases1 doctors1 apothecaries1 and other accidents1 that take away man's life1 and shorten his days2 war1 and violence from one another1 only excepted4 ,hor4 ,but if the earth had been too full of inhabitants1 might not ,providence have sent pestilences and diseases oftener8 ,more children might have died when they were young1 or more women might have proved barren4 ,cleo4 ,i do not know whether your mild way would have been more generally pleasing2 but you entertain notions of the ,deity that are unworthy of him4 ,men might certainly have been born with the instinct you speak of2 but if this had been the ,creator's pleasure1 there must have been another economy2 and things on earth1 from the beginning1 would have been ordered in a manner quite different from what they are now4 ,but to make a scheme first1 and afterwards to mend it1 when it proves defective1 is the business of finite wisdom2 it belongs to human prudence alone to mend faults1 to correct and redress what was done amiss before1 and to alter the measures which experience teaches men1 were ill concerted3 but the knowledge of ,god was consummate from eternity4 ,infinite ,wisdom is not liable to errors or mistakes2 therefore all his works are universally good1 and every thing is made exactly as he would have it3 the firmness and liability of his laws and councils are everlasting1 and therefore his resolutions are as unalterable1 as his decrees are eternal4 ,it is not a quarter of an hour ago1 that you named wars among the necessary means to carry off the redundancy of our species2 how come you now to think them useless8 ,i can demonstrate to you1 that nature1 in the production of our species1 has amply provided against the losses of our sex1 occasioned by wars1 by repairing them visibly1 where they are sustained1 in as palpable a manner1 as she has provided for the great destruction that is made of fish1 by their devouring one another4 ,hor4 ,how is that1 pray8 ,cleo4 ,by sending more males into the world than females4 ,you will easily allow me that our sex bears the brunt of all the toils and hazards that are undergone by sea and land2 and that by this means a far greater number of men must be destroyed than there is of women3 now if we see1 as certainly we do1 that of the infants yearly born1 the number of males is always considerably superior to that of the females1 is it not manifest1 that nature has made a provision for great multitudes1 which1 if they were not destroyed1 would be not only superfluous1 but of pernicious consequence in great nations8 ,hor4 ,that superiority in the number of males born is wonderful indeed2 ,i remember the account that has been published concerning it1 as it was taken from the bills of births and burials in the city and suburbs4 ,cleo4 ,for fourscore years2 in which the number of females born was constantly much inferior to that of the males1 sometimes by many hundreds3 and that this provision of nature1 to supply the havoc that is made of men by wars and navigation1 is still greater than could be imagined from that difference only1 will soon appear1 if we consider that women1 in the first place1 are liable to all diseases1 within a trifle1 that are incident to men2 and that1 in the second1 they are subject to many disorders and calamities on account of their sex1 which great numbers die of1 and which men are wholly exempt from4 ,hor4 ,this could not well be the effect of chance2 but it spoils the consequence which you drew from my affectionate scheme1 in case there had been no wars3 for your fear that our species would have increased beyond all bounds1 was entirely built upon the supposition1 that those who have died in war should not have wanted women if they had lived2 which1 from this superiority in the number of males1 it is evident1 they should and must have wanted4 ,cleo4 ,what you observe is true2 but my chief aim was to show you how disagreeable the alteration you required would have been every way to the rest of the scheme1 by which it is manifest things are governed at present4 ,for1 if the provision had been made on the other side2 and nature1 in the production of our species1 had continually taken care to repair the loss of women that die of calamities not incident to men1 then certainly there would have been women for all the men that have been destroyed by their own species1 if they had lived2 and the earth without war1 as ,i have said1 would have been over-stocked2 or1 if nature had ever been the same as she is now1 that is1 if more males had been born than females1 and more females had died of diseases than males1 the world would constantly have had a great superfluity of men1 if there never had been any wars2 and this disproportion between their number and that of the women would have caused innumerable mischiefs1 that are now prevented by no other natural causes1 than the small value men set upon their species1 and their dissentions with one another4 ,hor4 ,i can see no other mischief this would produce1 than that the number of males which die without having ever tried matrimony1 would be greater than it is now2 and whether that would be a real evil or not1 is a very disputable point4 ,cleo4 ,do not you think1 that this perpetual scarcity of women1 and superfluity of men1 would make great uneasiness in all societies1 how well soever people might love one another2 and that the value1 the price of women1 would be so enhanced by it1 that none but men in tolerable good circumstances would be able to purchase them8 ,this alone would make us another world2 and mankind could never have known that most necessary and now inexhaustible spring1 from which all nations1 where slaves are not allowed of1 are constantly supplied with willing hands for all the drudgery of hard and dirty labour2 ,i mean the children of the poor1 the greatest and most extensive of all temporal blessings that accrue from society1 on which all the comforts of life1 in the civilized state1 have their unavoidable dependance4 ,there are many other things1 from which it is plain1 that such a real love of man for his species would have been altogether inconsistent with the present scheme2 the world must have been destitute of all that industry1 that is owing to envy and emulation2 no society could have been easy with being a flourishing people at the expence of their neighbours1 or enduring to be counted a formidable nation4 ,all men would have been levellers2 government would have been unnecessary2 and there could have been no great bustle in the world4 ,look into the men of greatest renown1 and the most celebrated achievements of antiquity1 and every thing that has been cried up and admired in past ages by the fashionable part of mankind2 if the same labours were to be performed over again1 which qualification1 which help of nature do you think would be the most proper means to have them executed2 that instinct of real affection you required1 without ambition or the love of glory2 or a staunch principle of pride and selfishness1 acting under pretence to1 and assuming the resemblance of that affection8 ,consider1 ,i beseech you1 that no men governed by this instinct would require services of any of their species1 which they would not be ready to perform for others2 and you will easily see1 that its being universal would quite alter the scene of society from what it is now4 ,such an instinct might be very suitable to another scheme different from this1 in another world2 where1 instead of fickleness1 and a restless desire after changes and novelty1 there was observed an universal steadiness1 continually preferred by a serene spirit of contentment among other creatures of different appetites from ours1 that had frugality without avarice1 and generosity without pride2 and whose solicitude after happiness in a future state1 was as active and apparent in life as our pursuits are after the enjoyments of this present4 ,but1 as to the world we live in1 examine into the various ways of earthly greatness1 and all the engines that are made use of to attain to the felicity of carnal men1 and you will find1 that the instinct you speak of must have destroyed the principles1 and prevented the very existence of that pomp and glory to which human societies have been1 and are still raised by worldly wisdom4 ,hor4 ,i give up my affectionate scheme2 you have convinced me that there could not have been that stir and variety1 nor1 upon the whole1 that beauty in the world1 which there have been1 if all men had been naturally humble1 good1 and virtuous4 ,i believe that wars of all sorts1 as well as diseases1 are natural means to hinder mankind from increasing too fast2 but that wild beasts should likewise have been designed to thin our species1 ,i cannot conceive2 for they can only serve this end1 when men are but few1 and their numbers should be increased1 instead of lessened2 and afterwards1 if they were made for that purpose1 when men are strong enough1 they would not answer it4 ,cleo4 ,i never said that wild beasts was designed to thin our species4 ,i have showed that many things were made to serve a variety of different purposes2 that in the scheme of this earth1 many things must have been considered that man has nothing to do with2 and that it is ridiculous to think that the universe was made for our sake4 ,i have said likewise1 that as all our knowledge comes1 posteriori1 it is imprudent to reason otherwise than from facts4 ,that there are wild beasts1 and that there are savage men1 is certain2 and that where there are but few of the latter1 the first must always be very troublesome1 and often fatal to them1 is as certain2 and when ,i reflect on the passions all men are born with1 and their incapacity whilst they are untaught1 ,i can find no cause or motive which is so likely to unite them together1 and make them espouse the same interest1 as that common danger they must always be in from wild beasts1 in uncultivated countries1 whilst they live in small families that all shift for themselves1 without government or dependance upon one another3 ,this first step to society1 ,i believe to be an effect1 which that same cause1 the common danger so often mentioned1 will never fail to produce upon our species in such circumstances3 what other1 and how many purposes wild beasts might have been designed for besides1 ,i do not pretend to determine1 as ,i have told you before4 ,hor4 ,but whatever other purposes wild beasts were designed for1 it still follows from your opinion1 that the uniting of savages in common defence1 must have been one2 which to me seems clashing with our idea of the ,divine ,goodness4 ,cleo4 ,so will every thing seem to do1 which we call natural evil2 if you ascribe human passions to the ,deity1 and measure ,infinite ,wisdom by the standard of our most shallow capacity2 you have been at this twice already2 ,i thought ,i had answered it4 ,i would not make ,god the author of evil1 any more than yourself2 but ,i am likewise persuaded1 that nothing could come by chance1 in respect to the ,supreme ,being2 and1 therefore1 unless you imagine the world not to be governed by ,providence1 you must believe that wars1 and all the calamities we can suffer from man or beast1 as well as plagues and all other diseases1 are under a wise direction that is unfathomable4 ,as there can be no effect without a cause1 so nothing can be said to happen by chance1 but in respect to him who is ignorant of the cause of it4 ,i can make this evident to you1 in an obvious and familiar example4 ,to a man who knows nothing of the tennis-court1 the skips and rebounds of the ball seems to be all fortuitous2 as he is not able to guess at the several different directions it will receive before it comes to the ground2 so1 as soon as it has hit the place to which it was plainly directed at first1 it is chance to him where it will fall3 whereas1 the experienced player1 knowing perfectly well the journey the ball will make1 goes directly to the place1 if he is not there already1 where it will certainly come within his reach4 ,nothing seems to be more the effect of chance than a cast of the dice3 yet they obey the laws of gravity and motion in general1 as much as any thing else2 and from the impressions that are given them1 it is impossible they should fall otherwise than they do3 but the various directions which they shall receive in the whole course of the throw being entirely unknown1 and the rapidity with which they change their situation being such1 that our slow apprehension cannot trace them1 what the cast will be is a mystery to human understanding1 at fair play4 ,but if the same variety of directions was given to two cubes of ten feet each1 which a pair of dice receive1 as well from one another as the box1 the caster's fingers that cover it1 and the table they are flung upon1 from the time they are taken up until they lie still1 the same effect would follow2 and if the quantity of motion1 the force that is imparted to the box and dice was exactly known1 and the motion itself was so much retarded in the performance1 that what is done in three or four seconds1 should take up an hour's time1 it would be easy to find out the reason of every throw1 and men might learn with certainty to foretell which side of the cube would be uppermost4 ,it is evident1 then1 that the words fortuitous and casual1 have no other meaning than what depends upon our want of knowledge1 foresight1 and penetration2 the reflection on which will show us1 by what an infinity of degrees all human capacity falls short of that universal intuitus1 with which the ,supreme ,being beholds at once every thing without exception1 whether to us it be visible or invisible1 past1 present1 or to come4 ,hor4 ,i yield3 you have solved every difficulty ,i have been able to raise2 and ,i must confess1 that your supposition concerning the first motive that would make savages associate1 is neither clashing with good sense1 nor any idea we ought to have of the ,divine attributes2 but1 on the contrary1 in answering my objections1 you have demonstrated the probability of your conjecture1 and rendered the wisdom and power of providence1 in the scheme of this earth1 both as to the contrivance and the execution of it1 more conspicuous and palpable to me1 than any thing ,i ever heard or read1 had done before4 ,cleo4 ,i am glad you are satisfied2 though far from arrogating to myself so much merit as your civility would compliment me with4 ,hor4 ,it is very clear to me now2 that as it is appointed for all men to die1 so it is necessary there should be means to compass this end2 that from the number of those means1 or causes of death2 it is impossible to exclude either the malice of men1 or the rage of wild beasts1 and all noxious animals2 and that if they had been actually designed by nature1 and contrived for that purpose1 we should have no more reason justly to complain of them1 than we have to find fault with death itself1 or that frightful train of diseases which are daily and hourly the manifest occasion of it4 ,cleo4 ,they are all equally included in the curse1 which after the fall was deservedly pronounced against the whole earth2 and if they be real evils1 they are to be looked upon as the consequence of sin1 and a condign punishment1 which the transgression of our first parents has drawn and entailed upon all their posterity4 ,i am fully persuaded1 that all the nations in the world1 and every individual of our species1 civilized or savage1 had their origin from ,seth1 ,sham1 or ,japhet3 and as experience has taught us1 that the greatest empires have their periods1 and the best governed states and kingdoms may come to ruin2 so it is certain1 that the politest people being scattered and distressed1 may soon degenerate1 and some of them by accidents and misfortunes1 from knowing and well taught ancestors1 be reduced at last to savages of the first and lowest class4 ,hor4 ,if what you are fully persuaded of1 be true1 the other is self-evident1 from the savages that are still subsisting4 ,cleo4 ,you once seemed to insinuate1 that all the danger men were in from wild beasts1 would entirely cease as soon as they were civilized1 and lived in large and well-ordered societies2 but by this you may see1 that our species will never be wholly exempt from that danger2 because mankind will always be liable to be reduced to savages2 for1 as this calamity has actually befallen vast multitudes that were the undoubted descendants of ,noah2 so the greatest prince upon earth1 that has children1 cannot be sure1 that the same disaster will never happen to any of his posterity4 ,wild beasts may be entirely extirpated in some countries that are duly cultivated2 but they will multiply in others that are wholly neglected2 and great numbers of them range now1 and are masters in many places1 where they had been rooted and kept out before4 ,i shall always believe that every species of living creatures in and upon this globe1 without exception1 continues to be1 as it was at first1 under the care of that same ,providence that thought fit to produce it4 ,you have had a great deal of patience1 but ,i would not tire it3 ,this first step towards society1 now we have mastered it1 is a good resting place1 and so we will leave off for to-day4 ,hor4 ,with all my heart3 ,i have made you talk a great deal2 but ,i long to hear the rest1 as soon as you are at leisure4 ,cleo4 ,i am obliged to dine at ,windsor to-morrow2 if you are not otherwise engaged1 ,i can carry you where the honour of your company will be highly esteemed3 my coach shall be ready at nine2 you know you are in my way4 ,hor4 ,a fine opportunity1 indeed1 of three or four hours chat4 ,cleo4 ,i shall be all alone without you4 ,hor4 ,i am your man1 and shall expect you4 ,cleo4 ,adieu4 ,,the ,,sixth ,,dialogue ,,between ,,horatio ,,and ,,cleomenes ,,horatio4 ,now we are off the stones1 pray let us lose no time2 ,i expect a great deal of pleasure from what ,i am to hear further4 ,cleo4 ,the second step to society is the danger men are in from one another3 for which we are beholden to that staunch principle of pride and ambition1 that all men are born with4 ,different families may endeavour to live together1 and be ready to join in common danger2 but they are all of little use to one another1 when there is no common enemy to oppose4 ,if we consider that strength1 agility1 and courage would1 in such a state1 be the most valuable qualifications1 and that many families could not live long together1 but some1 actuated by the principle ,i named1 would strive for superiority3 this must breed quarrels1 in which the most weak and fearful will1 for their own safety1 always join with him of whom they have the best opinion4 ,hor4 ,this would naturally divide multitudes into bands and companies1 that would all have their different leaders1 and of which the strongest and most valiant would always swallow up the weakest and most fearful4 ,cleo4 ,what you say agrees exactly with the accounts we have of the uncivilized nations that are still subsisting in the world2 and thus men may live miserably many ages4 ,hor4 ,the very first generation that was brought up under the tuition of parents1 would be governable3 and would not every succeeding generation grow wiser than the foregoing8 ,cleo4 ,without doubt they would increase in knowledge and cunning3 time and experience would have the same effect upon them as it has upon others2 and in the particular things to which they applied themselves1 they would become as expert and ingenious as the most civilized nations3 but their unruly passions1 and the discords occasioned by them1 would never suffer them to be happy2 their mutual contentions would be continually spoiling their improvements1 destroying their inventions1 and frustrating their designs4 ,hor4 ,but would not their sufferings in time bring them acquainted with the causes of their disagreement2 and would not that knowledge put them upon making of contracts1 not to injure one another8 ,cleo4 ,very probably they would2 but among such ill-bred and uncultivated people1 no man would keep a contract longer than that interest lasted which made him submit to it4 ,hor4 ,but might not religion1 the fear of an invisible cause1 be made serviceable to them1 as to the keeping of their contracts8 ,cleo4 ,it might1 without dispute2 and would1 before many generations passed away4 ,but religion could do no more among them1 than it does among civilized nations2 where the ,divine vengeance is seldom trusted to only1 and oaths themselves are thought to be of little service1 where there is no human power to enforce the obligation1 and punish perjury4 ,hor4 ,but do not think1 that the same ambition that made a man aspire to be a leader1 would make him likewise desirous of being obeyed in civil matters1 by the numbers he led8 ,cleo4 ,i do2 and moreover that1 notwithstanding this unsettled and precarious way communities would live in1 after three or four generations1 human nature would be looked into1 and begin to be understood3 leaders would find out1 that the more strife and discord there was amongst the people they headed1 the less use they could make of them3 this would put them upon various ways of curbing mankind2 they would forbid killing and striking one another2 the taking away by force the wives or children of others in the same community2 they would invent penalties1 and very early find out that nobody ought to be a judge in his own cause2 and that old men1 generally speaking1 knew more than young4 ,hor4 ,when once they have prohibitions and penalties1 ,i should think all the difficulty surmounted2 and ,i wonder why you said1 that thus they might live miserably for many ages4 ,cleo4 ,there is one thing of great moment1 which has not been named yet2 and until that comes to pass1 no considerable numbers can ever be made happy2 what signify the strongest contracts when we have nothing to show for them2 and what dependence can we have upon oral tradition1 in matters that require exactness2 especially whilst the language that is spoken is yet very imperfect8 ,verbal reports are liable to a thousand cavils and disputes that are prevented by records1 which every body knows to be unerring witnesses2 and from the many attempts that are made to wrest and distort the sense of even written laws1 we may judge how impracticable the administration of justice must be among all societies that are destitute of them4 ,therefore the third and last step to society1 is the invention of letters4 ,no multitudes can live peaceably without government2 no government can subsist without laws2 and no laws can be effectual long1 unless they are wrote down3 the consideration of this is alone sufficient to give us a great insight into the nature of man4 ,hor4 ,i do not think so3 the reason why no government can subsist without laws1 is1 because there are bad men in all multitudes2 but to take patterns from them1 when we would judge of human nature1 rather than from the good ones that follow the dictates of their reason1 is an injustice one would not be guilty of to brute beasts2 and it would be very wrong in us1 for a few vicious horses1 to condemn the whole species as such1 without taking notice of the many fine spirited creatures that are naturally tame and gentle4 ,cleo4 ,at this rate ,i must repeat every thing that ,i have said yesterday and the day before3 ,i thought you was convinced1 that it was with thought as it is with speech2 and that though man was born with a capacity beyond other animals1 to attain to both1 yet1 whilst he remained untaught1 and never conversed with any of his species1 these characteristics were of little use to him4 ,all men uninstructed1 whilst they are let alone1 will follow the impulse of their nature1 without regard to others2 and therefore all of them are bad1 that are not taught to be good2 so all horses are ungovernable that are not well broken3 for what we call vicious in them1 is1 when they bite or kick1 endeavour to break their halter1 throw their rider1 and exert themselves with all their strength to shake off the yoke1 and recover that liberty which nature prompts them to assert and desire4 ,what you call natural1 is evidently artificial1 and belongs to education3 no fine-spirited horse was ever tame or gentle1 without management4 ,some1 perhaps1 are not backed until they are four years old2 but then long before that time1 they are handled1 spoke to1 and dressed2 they are fed by their keepers1 put under restraint1 sometimes caressed1 and sometimes made to smart2 and nothing is omitted whilst they are young1 to inspire them with awe and veneration to our species2 and make them not only submit to it1 but likewise take a pride in obeying the superior genius of man4 ,but would you judge of the nature of horses in general1 as to its fitness to be governed1 take the foals of the best bred mares and finest stallions1 and turn an hundred of them loose1 fillies and colts together1 in a large forest1 till they are seven years old1 and then see how tractable they will be4 ,hor4 ,but this is never done4 ,cleo4 ,whose fault is that8 ,it is not at the request of the horses1 that they are kept from the mares2 and that any of them are ever gentle or tame1 is entirely owing to the management of man4 ,vice proceeds from the same origin in men1 as it does in horses2 the desire of uncontrouled liberty1 and impatience of restraint1 are not more visible in the one than they are in the other2 and a man is then called vicious1 when1 breaking the curbs of precepts and prohibitions1 he wildly follows the unbridled appetites of his untaught or ill-managed nature4 ,the complaints against this nature of ours1 are every where the same3 man would have every thing he likes1 without considering whether he has any right to it or not2 and he would do every thing he has a mind to do1 without regard to the consequence it would be of to others2 at the same time that he dislikes every body1 that acting from the same principle1 have in all their behaviour not a special regard to him4 ,hor4 ,that is1 in short1 man naturally will not do as he would be done by4 ,cleo4 ,that is true2 and for this1 there is another reason in his nature3 all men are partial in their judgments1 when they compare themselves to others2 no two equals think so well of each other1 as both do of themselves2 and where all men have an equal right to judge1 there needs no greater cause of quarrel1 than a present amongst them1 with an inscription of detur digniori4 ,man in his anger behaves himself in the same manner as other animals2 disturbing1 in the pursuit self-preservation1 those they are angry with2 and all of them endeavour1 according as the degree of their passion is1 either to destroy1 or cause pain and displeasure to their adversaries4 ,that these obstacles to society are the faults1 or rather properties of our nature1 we may know by this1 that all regulations and prohibitions that have been contrived for the temporal happiness of mankind1 are made exactly to tally with them1 and to obviate those complaints1 which ,i said were every where made against mankind4 ,the principal laws of all countries have the same tendency2 and there is not one that does not point at some frailty1 defect1 or unfitness for society1 that men are naturally subject to2 but all of them are plainly designed as so many remedies1 to cure and disappoint that natural instinct of sovereignty1 which teaches man to look upon every thing as centring in himself1 and prompts him to put in a claim to every thing he can lay his hands on4 ,this tendency and design to mend our nature1 for the temporal good of society1 is no where more visible1 than in that compendious as well as complete body of laws1 that was given by ,god himself4 ,the ,israelites1 whilst they were slaves in ,egypt1 were governed by the laws of their masters2 and as they were many degrees removed from the lowest savages1 so they were yet far from being a civilized nation4 ,it is reasonable to think1 that1 before they received the law of ,god1 they had regulations and agreements already established1 which the ten commandments did not abolish2 and that they must have had notions of right and wrong1 and contracts among them against open violence1 and the invasion of property1 is demonstrable4 ,hor4 ,how is that demonstrable8 ,cleo4 ,from the decalogue itself3 all wise laws are adapted to the people that are to obey them4 ,from the ninth commandment1 for example1 it is evident1 that a man's own testimony was not sufficient to be believed in his own affair1 and that nobody was allowed to be a judge in his own case4 ,hor4 ,it only forbids us to bear false witness against our neighbour4 ,cleo4 ,that is true2 and therefore the whole tenor and design of this commandment presupposes1 and must imply what ,i say4 ,but the prohibitions of stealing1 adultery1 and coveting any thing that belonged to their neighbours1 are still more plainly intimating the same2 and seem to be additions and amendments1 to supply the defects of some known regulations and contracts that had been agreed upon before4 ,if1 in this view1 we behold the three commandments last hinted at1 we shall find them to be strong evidences1 not only of that instinct of sovereignty within us1 which at other times ,i have called a domineering spirit1 and a principle of selfishness2 but likewise of the difficulty there is to destroy1 eradicate1 and pull it out of the heart of man3 for1 from the eighth commandment it appears1 that1 though we debar ourselves from taking the things of our neighbour by force1 yet there is danger that this instinct will prompt us to get them unknown to him in a clandestine manner1 and deceive us with the insinuations of an oportet habere4 ,from the foregoing precept1 it is likewise manifest1 that though we agree not to take away1 and rob a man of the woman that is his own1 it is yet to be feared1 that if we like her1 this innate principle that bids us gratify every appetite1 will advise us to make use of her as if she was our own2 though our neighbour is at the charge of maintaining her and all the children she brings forth4 ,the last more especially is very ample in confirming my assertion4 ,it strikes directly at the root of the evil1 and lays open the real source of the mischiefs that are apprehended in the seventh and the eighth commandment3 for without first actually trespassing against this1 no man is in danger of breaking either of the former4 ,this tenth commandment1 moreover1 insinuates very plainly1 in the first place1 that this instinct of ours is of great power1 and a frailty hardly to be cured2 in the second1 that there is nothing which our neighbour can be possessed of1 but1 neglecting the consideration of justice and property1 we may have a desire after it2 for which reason it absolutely forbids us to covet any thing that is his3 ,the ,divine ,wisdom1 well knowing the strength of this selfish principle1 which obliges us continually to assume every thing to ourselves2 and that1 when once a man heartily covets a thing1 this instinct1 this principle will over-rule and persuade him to leave no stone unturned to compass his desires4 ,hor4 ,according to your way of expounding the commandments1 and making them tally so exactly with the frailties of our nature1 it should follow from the ninth1 that all men are born with a strong appetite to forswear themselves1 which ,i never heard before4 ,cleo4 ,nor ,i neither2 and ,i confess that the rebuke there is in this smart turn of yours is very plausible2 but the censure1 how specious soever it may appear1 is unjust1 and you shall not find the consequence you hint at1 if you will be pleased to distinguish between the natural appetites themselves1 and the various crimes which they make us commit1 rather than not be obeyed3 ,for1 though we are born with no immediate appetite to forswear ourselves1 yet we are born with more than one1 that1 if never checked1 may in time oblige us to forswear ourselves1 or do worse1 if it be possible1 and they cannot be gratified without it2 and the commandment you mention plainly implies1 that by nature we are so unreasonably attached to our interest on all emergencies1 that it is possible for a man to be swayed by it1 not only to the visible detriment of others1 as is manifest from the seventh and the eighth1 but even though it should be against his own conscience3 ,for nobody did ever knowingly bear false witness against his neighbour1 but he did it for some end or other2 this end1 whatever it is1 ,i call his interest4 ,the law which forbids murder1 had already demonstrated to us1 how immensely we undervalue every thing1 when it comes in competition with ourselves2 for1 though our greatest dread be destruction1 and we know no other calamity equal to the dissolution of our being1 yet such unequitable judges this instinct of sovereignty is able to make of us1 that rather than not have our will1 which we count our happiness1 we choose to inflict this calamity on others1 and bring total ruin on such as we think to be obstacles to the gratification of our appetites2 and this men do1 not only for hindrances that are present1 or apprehended as to come1 but likewise for former offences1 and things that are past redress4 ,hor4 ,by what you said last1 you mean revenge1 ,i suppose4 ,cleo4 ,i do so2 and the instinct of sovereignty which ,i assert to be in human nature1 is in nothing so glaringly conspicuous as it is in this passion1 which no mere man was ever born without1 and which even the most civilized1 as well as the most learned1 are seldom able to conquer3 ,for whoever pretends to revenge himself1 must claim a right to a judicature within1 and an authority to punish3 ,which1 being destructive to the mutual peace of all multitudes1 are for that reason the first things that in every civil society are snatched away out of every man's hands1 as dangerous tools1 and vested in the governing part1 the supreme power only4 ,hor4 ,this remark on revenge has convinced me more than any thing you have said yet1 that there is some such thing as a principle of sovereignty in our nature2 but ,i cannot conceive yet1 why the vices of private1 ,i mean particular persons1 should be thought to belong to the whole species4 ,cleo4 ,because every body is liable to fall into the vices that are peculiar to his species2 and it is with them1 as it is with distempers among creatures of different kinds3 ,there are many ailments that horses are subject to1 which are not incident to cows4 ,there is no vice1 but whoever commits it had within him before he was guilty of it1 a tendency towards it1 a latent cause that disposed him to it3 ,therefore1 all lawgivers have two main points to consider at setting out3 ,first1 what things will procure happiness to the society under their care3 ,secondly1 what passions and properties there are in man's nature1 that may either promote or obstruct this happiness4 ,it is prudence to watch your fish ponds against the insults of hearns and bitterns2 but the same precaution would be ridiculous against turkeys and peacocks1 or any other creatures1 that neither love fish1 nor are able to catch them4 ,hor4 ,what frailty or defect is it in our nature1 that the two first commandments have a regard to1 or1 as you call it1 tally with8 ,cleo4 ,our natural blindness and ignorance of the true ,deity3 ,for1 though we all come into the world with an instinct toward religion that manifests itself before we come to maturity1 yet the fear of an invisible cause1 or invisible causes1 which all men are born with1 is not more universal1 than the uncertainty which all untaught men fluctuate in1 as to the nature and properties of that cause1 or those causes3 ,there can be no greater proof of this---- ,hor4 ,i want none2 the history of all ages is a sufficient witness4 ,cleo4 ,give me leave3 ,there can1 ,i say1 be no greater proof of this1 than the second commandment1 which palpably points at all the absurdities and abominations which the ill-guided fear of an invisible cause had already made1 and would still continue to make men commit2 and in doing this1 ,i can hardly think1 that any thing but ,divine ,wisdom could1 in so few words1 have comprehended the vast extent and sum total of human extravagancies1 as it is done in that commandment3 ,for there is nothing so high or remote in the firmament1 nor so low or abject upon earth1 but some men have worshipped it1 or made it one way or other the object of their superstition4 ,hor4----,crocodilon adorat ,pars hc3 illa pavet saturam serpentibus ,ibin4 ,effigias sacri nitet aurea ,cercopitheci4 ,a holy monkey6 ,i own it is a reproach to our species1 that ever any part of it should have adored such a creature as a god4 ,but that is the tip-top of folly1 that can be charged on superstition4 ,cleo4 ,i do not think so2 a monkey is still a living creature1 and consequently somewhat superior to things inanimate4 ,hor4 ,i should have thought mens adoration of the sun or moon infinitely less absurd than to have seen them fall down before so vile1 so ridiculous an animal4 ,cleo4 ,those who have adored the sun and moon never questioned1 but they were intelligent as well as glorious beings4 ,but when ,i mentioned the word inanimate1 ,i was thinking on what the same poet you quoted said of the veneration men paid to leeks and onions1 deities they raised in their own gardens4 ,porrum cepe nefas violare1 frangere morsu3 ,o sanctas genteis1 quibus hc nascuntur in hortis ,numina6---- ,but this is nothing to what has been done in ,america fourteen hundred years after the time of ,juvenal4 ,if the portentous worship of the ,mexicans had been known in his days1 he would not have thought it worth his while to take notice of the ,egyptians4 ,i have often admired at the uncommon pains those poor people must have taken to express the frightful and shocking1 as well as bizarre and unutterable notions they entertained of the superlative malice and hellish implacable nature of their vitzliputzli1 to whom they sacrificed the hearts of men1 cut out whilst they were alive4 ,the monstrous figure and laboured deformity of that abominable idol1 are a lively representation of the direful ideas those wretches framed to themselves of an invisible over-ruling power2 and plainly show us1 how horrid and execrable they thought it to be1 at the same time that they paid it the highest adoration2 and at the expence of human blood endeavoured1 with fear and trembling1 if not to appease the wrath and rage of it1 at least to avert1 in some measure1 the manifold mischiefs they apprehended from it4 ,hor4 ,nothing1 ,i must own1 can render declaiming against idolatry more seasonable than a reflection upon the second commandment3 ,but as what you have been saying required no great attention1 ,i have been thinking of something else4 ,thinking on the purport of the third commandment1 furnishes me with an objection1 and ,i think a strong one1 to what you have affirmed about all laws in general1 and the decalogue in particular4 ,you know ,i urged that it was wrong to ascribe the faults of bad men to human nature in general4 ,cleo4 ,i do2 and thought ,i had answered you4 ,hor4 ,let me try only once more4 ,which of the two1 pray1 do you think profane swearing to proceed from1 a frailty in our nature1 or an ill custom generally contracted by keeping of bad company8 ,cleo4 ,certainly the latter4 ,hor4 ,then it is evident to me1 that this law is levelled at the bad men only1 that are guilty of the vice forbid in it2 and not any frailty belonging to human nature in general4 ,cleo4 ,i believe you mistake the design of this law2 and am of opinion1 that it has a much higher aim than you seem to imagine4 ,you remember my saying1 that reverence to authority was necessary1 to make human creatures governable4 ,hor4 ,very well2 and that reverence was a compound of fear1 love1 and esteem4 ,cleo4 ,now let us take a view of what is done in the decalogue3 ,in the short preamble to it1 expressly made that the ,israelites should know who it was that spoke to them1 ,god manifests himself to those whom he had chosen for his people1 by a most remarkable instance of his own great power1 and their strong obligation to him1 in a fact1 that none of them could be ignorant of4 ,there is a plainness and grandeur withal in this sentence1 than which nothing can be more truly sublime or majestic2 and ,i defy the learned world to show me another as comprehensive1 and of equal weight and dignity1 that so fully executes its purpose1 and answers its design with the same simplicity of words4 ,in that part of the second commandment1 which contains the motives and inducements why men should obey the ,divine laws1 are set forth in the most emphatical manner3 ,first1 ,god's wrath on those that hate him1 and the continuance of it on their posterity3 ,secondly1 the wide extent of his mercy to those who love him and keep his commandments4 ,if we duly consider these passages1 we shall find1 that fear1 as well as love1 and the highest esteem1 are plainly and distinctly inculcated in them2 and that the best method is made use of there1 to inspire men with a deep sense of the three ingredients that make up the compound of reverence4 ,the reason is plain3 ,if people were to be governed by that body of laws1 nothing was more necessary to enforce their obedience to them1 than their awful regard and utmost veneration to him1 at whose command they were to keep them1 and to whom they were accountable for the breaking of them4 ,hor4 ,what answer is all this to my objection8 ,cleo4 ,have a moment's patience2 ,i am coming to it4 ,mankind are naturally fickle1 and delight in change and variety2 they seldom retain long the same impression of things they received at first1 when they were new to them2 and they are apt to undervalue1 if not despise the best1 when they grow common4 ,i am of opinion1 that the third commandment points at this frailty1 this want of steadiness in our nature2 the ill consequences of which1 in our duty to the ,creator1 could not be better prevented than by a strict observance of this law1 in never making use of his name1 but in the most solemn manner1 on necessary occasions1 and in matters of high importance4 ,as in the foregoing part of the decalogue1 care had been already taken1 by the strongest motives1 to create and attract reverence1 so nothing could be more wisely adapted to strengthen1 and make it everlasting1 than the contents of this law3 ,for as too much familiarity breeds contempt1 so our highest regard due to what is most sacred1 cannot be kept up better than by a quite contrary practice4 ,hor4 ,i am answered4 ,cleo4 ,what weight reverence is thought to be of to procure obedience1 we may learn from the same body of laws in another commandment4 ,children have no opportunity of learning their duty but from their parents and those who act by their authority or in their stead3 ,therefore1 it was requisite1 that men should not only stand in great dread of the law of ,god1 but likewise have great reverence for those who first inculcated it1 and communicated to them that this was the law of ,god4 ,hor4 ,but you said1 that the reverence of children to parents was a natural consequence of what they first experienced from the latter4 ,cleo4 ,you think there was no occasion for this law1 if man would do what is commanded in it of his own accord3 ,but ,i desire you would consider1 that though the reverence of children to parents is a natural consequence1 partly of the benefits and chastisements they receive from them1 and partly of the great opinion they form of the superior capacity they observe in them2 experience teaches us1 that this reverence may be over-ruled by stronger passions2 and therefore it being of the highest moment to all government and sociableness itself1 ,god thought fit to fortify and strengthen it in us1 by a particular command of his own2 and1 moreover1 to encourage it1 by the promise of a reward for the keeping of it4 ,it is our parents that first cure us of our natural wildness1 and break in us the spirit of independency we are all born with3 ,it is to them we owe the first rudiments of our submission2 and to the honour and deference which children pay to parents1 all societies are obliged for the principle of human obedience4 ,the instinct of sovereignty in our nature1 and the waywardness of infants1 which is the consequence of it1 discover themselves with the least glimmering of our understanding1 and before children that have been most neglected1 and the least taught1 are always the most stubborn and obstinate2 and none are more unruly1 and fonder of following their own will1 than those that are least capable of governing themselves4 ,hor4 ,then this commandment you think not obligatory1 when we come to years of maturity4 ,cleo4 ,far from it3 for though the benefit politically intended by this law be chiefly received by us1 whilst we are under age and the tuition of parents2 yet1 for that very reason1 ought the duty commanded in it1 never to cease4 ,we are fond of imitating our superiors from our cradle1 and whilst this honour and reverence to parents continue to be paid by their children1 when they are grown men and women1 and act for themselves1 the example is of singular use to all minors1 in teaching them their duty1 and not to refuse what they see others1 that are older and wiser1 comply with by choice3 ,for1 by this means1 as their understanding increases1 this duty1 by degrees1 becomes a fashion1 which at last their pride will not suffer them to neglect4 ,hor4 ,what you said last is certainly the reason1 that among fashionable people1 even the most vicious and wicked do outward homage1 and pay respect to parents1 at least before the world2 though they act against1 and in their hearts hate them4 ,cleo4 ,here is another instance to convince us1 that good manners are not inconsistent with wickedness2 and that men may be strict observers of decorums1 and take pains to seem well-bred1 and at the same time have no regard to the laws of ,god1 and live in contempt of religion3 and therefore to procure an outward compliance with this fifth commandment1 no lecture can be of such force1 nor any instruction so edifying to youth1 among the modest sort of people1 as the sight of a strong and vigorous1 as well as polite and well dressed man1 in a dispute giving way and submitting to a decrepit parent4 ,hor4 ,but do you imagine that all the divine laws1 even those that seem only to relate to ,god himself1 his power and glory1 and our obedience to his will1 abstract from any consideration of our neighbour1 had likewise a regard to the good of society1 and the temporal happiness of his people8 ,cleo4 ,there is no doubt of that2 witness the keeping of the ,sabbath4 ,hor4 ,we have seen that very handsomely proved in one of the ,spectators4 ,cleo4 ,but the usefulness of it in human affairs1 is of far greater moment1 than that which the author of that paper chiefly takes notice of4 ,of all the difficulties that mankind have laboured under in completing society1 nothing has been more puzzling or perplexing than the division of time4 ,our annual course round the sun1 not answering exactly any number of complete days or hours1 has been the occasion of immense study and labour3 and nothing has more racked the brain of man1 than the adjusting the year to prevent the confusion of seasons3 but even when the year was divided into lunar months1 the computation of time must have been impracticable among the common people3 ,to remember twenty-nine1 or thirty days1 where feasts are irregular1 and all other days show alike1 must have been a great burden to the memory1 and caused a continual confusion among the ignorant2 whereas1 a short period soon returning is easily remembered1 and one fixed day in seven1 so remarkably distinguished from the rest1 must rub up the memory of the most unthinking4 ,hor4 ,i believe that the ,sabbath is a considerable help in the computation of time1 and of greater use in human affairs1 than can be easily imagined by those1 who never knew the want of it4 ,cleo4 ,but what is most remarkable in this fourth commandment1 is ,god's revealing himself to his people1 and acquainting an infant nation with a truth1 which the rest of the world remained ignorant of for many ages4 ,men were soon made sensible of the sun's power1 observed every meteor in the sky1 and suspected the influence of the moon and other stars3 but it was a long time1 and man was far advanced in sublime notions1 before the light of nature could raise mortal thought to the contemplation of an ,infinite ,being that is the author of the whole4 ,hor4 ,you have descanted on this sufficiently when you spoke of ,moses3 pray let us proceed to the further establishment of society4 ,i am satisfied that the third step towards it is the invention of letters2 that without them no laws can be long effectual1 and that the principal laws of all countries are remedies against human frailties2 ,i mean1 that they are designed as antidotes1 to prevent the ill consequences of some properties1 inseparable from our nature2 which yet in themselves1 without management or restraint1 are obstructive and pernicious to society3 ,i am persuaded likewise1 that these frailties are palpably pointed at in the decalogue2 that it was wrote with great wisdom1 and that there is not one commandment in it1 that has not a regard to the temporal good of society1 as well as matters of higher moment4 ,cleo4 ,these are the things1 indeed1 that ,i have endeavoured to prove2 and now all the great difficulties and chief obstructions1 that can hinder a multitude from being formed into a body politic1 are removed3 when once men come to be governed by written laws1 all the rest comes on a-pace4 ,now property1 and safety of life and limb may be secured3 this naturally will forward the love of peace1 and make it spread4 ,no number of men1 when once they enjoy quiet1 and no man needs to fear his neighbour1 will be long without learning to divide and subdivide their labour4 ,hor4 ,i do not understand you4 ,cleo4 ,man1 as ,i have hinted before1 naturally loves to imitate what he sees others do1 which is the reason that savage people all do the same thing3 this hinders them from meliorating their condition1 though they are always wishing for it3 but if one will wholly apply himself to the making of bows and arrows1 whilst another provides food1 a third builds huts1 a fourth makes garments1 and a fifth utensils3 they not only become useful to one another1 but the callings and employments themselves will in the same number of years receive much greater improvements1 than if all had been promiscuously followed by every one of the five4 ,hor4 ,i believe you are perfectly right there2 and the truth of what you say is in nothing so conspicuous1 as it is in watch-making1 which is come to a higher degree of perfection1 than it would have been arrived at yet1 if the whole had always remained the employment of one person2 and ,i am persuaded1 that even the plenty we have of clocks and watches1 as well as the exactness and beauty they may be made of1 are chiefly owing to the division that has been made of that art into many branches4 ,cleo4 ,the use of letters must likewise very much improve speech itself1 which before that time cannot but be very barren and precarious4 ,hor4 ,i am glad to hear you mention speech again3 ,i would not interrupt you when you named it once before3 ,pray what language did your wild couple speak1 when first they met8 ,cleo4 ,from what ,i have said already1 it is evident1 that they could have had none at all2 at least1 that it is my opinion4 ,hor4 ,then wild people must have an instinct to understand one another1 which they lose when they are civilized4 ,cleo4 ,i am persuaded that nature has made all animals of the same kind1 in their mutual commerce1 intelligible to one another1 as far as is requisite for the preservation of themselves and their species3 and as to my wild couple1 as you call them1 ,i believe there would be a very good understanding before many sounds passed between them4 ,it is not without some difficulty1 that a man born in society can form an idea of such savages1 and their condition2 and unless he has used himself to abstract thinking1 he can hardly represent to himself such a state of simplicity1 in which man can have so few desires1 and no appetites roving beyond the immediate call of untaught nature3 to me it seems very plain1 that such a couple would not only be destitute of language1 but likewise never find out1 or imagine that they stood in need of any2 or that the want of it was any real inconvenience to them4 ,hor4 ,why do you think so8 ,cleo4 ,because it is impossible that any creatures should know the want of what it can have no idea of3 ,i believe1 moreover1 that if savages1 after they are grown men and women1 should hear others speak1 be made acquainted with the usefulness of speech1 and consequently become sensible of the want of it in themselves1 their inclination to learn it would be as inconsiderable as their capacity2 and if they should attempt it1 they would find it an immense labour1 a thing not to be surmounted2 because the suppleness and flexibility in the organs of speech1 that children are endued with1 and which ,i have often hinted at1 would be lost in them2 and they might learn to play masterly upon the violin1 or any other the most difficult musical instrument1 before they could make any tolerable proficiency in speaking4 ,hor4 ,brutes make several distinct sounds to express different passions by3 as for example1 anguish1 and great danger1 dogs of all sorts express with another noise than they do rage and anger2 and the whole species express grief by howling4 ,cleo4 ,this is no argument to make us believe1 that nature has endued man with speech2 there are innumerable other privileges and instincts which some brutes enjoy1 and men are destitute of3 chickens run about as soon as they are hatched2 and most quadrupeds can walk without help1 as soon as they are brought forth4 ,if ever language came by instinct1 the people that spoke it must have known every individual word in it2 and a man in the wild state of nature would have no occasion for a thousandth part of the most barren language that ever had a name4 ,when a man's knowledge is confined within a narrow compass1 and he has nothing to obey1 but the simple dictates of nature1 the want of speech is easily supplied by dumb signs2 and it is more natural to untaught men to express themselves by gestures1 than by sounds2 but we are all born with a capacity of making ourselves understood1 beyond other animals1 without speech3 to express grief1 joy1 love1 wonder and fear1 there are certain tokens that are common to the whole species4 ,who doubts that the crying of children was given them by nature1 to call assistance and raise pity1 which latter it does so unaccountably beyond any other sound8 ,hor4 ,in mothers and nurses1 you mean4 ,cleo4 ,i mean in the generality of human creatures4 ,will you allow me1 that warlike music generally rouses and supports the spirits1 and keeps them from sinking4 ,hor4 ,i believe ,i must4 ,cleo4 ,then ,i will engage1 that the crying 7,i mean the vagitus7 of helpless infants will stir up compassion in the generality of our species1 that are within the hearing of it1 with much greater certainty than drums and trumpets will dissipate and chase away fear1 in those they are applied to4 ,weeping1 laughing1 smiling1 frowning1 sighing1 exclaiming1 we spoke of before4 ,how universal1 as well as copious1 is the language of the eyes1 by the help of which the remotest nations understand one another at first sight1 taught or untaught1 in the weightiest temporal concern that belongs to the species8 and in that language our wild couple would at their first meeting intelligibly say more to one another without guile1 than any civilized pair would dare to name without blushing4 ,hor4 ,a man1 without doubt1 may be as impudent with his eyes1 as he can be with his tongue4 ,cleo4 ,all such looks1 therefore1 and several motions1 that are natural1 are carefully avoided among polite people1 upon no other account1 than that they are too significant3 it is for the same reason that stretching ourselves before others1 whilst we are yawning1 is an absolute breach of good manners1 especially in mixed company of both sexes4 ,as it is indecent to display any of these tokens1 so it is unfashionable to take notice of1 or seem to understand them3 this disuse and neglect of them is the cause1 that whenever they happen to be made1 either through ignorance or wilful rudeness1 many of them are lost and really not understood1 by the beau monde1 that would be very plain to savages without language1 who could have no other means of conversing than by signs and motions4 ,hor4 ,but if the old stock would never either be able or willing to acquire speech1 it is possible they could teach it their children3 then which way could any language ever come into the world from two savages8 ,cleo4 ,by slow degrees1 as all other arts and sciences have done1 and length of time2 agriculture1 physic1 astronomy1 architecture1 painting1 c4 ,from what we see in children that are backward with their tongues1 we have reason to think1 that a wild pair would make themselves intelligible to each other by signs and gestures1 before they would attempt it by sounds3 but when they lived together for many years1 it is very probable1 that for the things they were most conversant with they would find out sounds1 to stir up in each other the ideas of such things1 when they were out of sight2 these sounds they would communicate to their young ones2 and the longer they lived together the greater variety of sounds they would invent1 as well for actions as the things themselves3 they would find that the volubility of tongue1 and flexibility of voice1 were much greater in their young ones1 than they could remember it ever to have been in themselves3 it is impossible1 but some of these young ones would either by accident or design1 make use of this superior aptitude of the organs at one time or other2 which every generation would still improve upon2 and this must have been the origin of all languages1 and speech itself1 that were not taught by inspiration4 ,i believe moreover1 that after language 7,i mean such as is of human invention7 was come to a great degree of perfection1 and even when people had distinct words for every action in life1 as well as every thing they meddled or conversed with1 signs and gestures still continued to be made for a great while1 to accompany speech2 because both are intended for the same purpose4 ,hor4 ,the design of speech is to make our thoughts known to others4 ,cleo4 ,i do not think so4 ,hor4 ,what6 do not men speak to be understood8 ,cleo4 ,in one sense they do2 but there is a double meaning in those words1 which ,i believe you did not intend3 if by man's speaking to be understood you mean1 that when men speak1 they desire that the purport of the sounds they utter should be known and apprehended by others1 ,i answer in the affirmative3 but if you mean by it1 that men speak1 in order that their thoughts may be known1 and their sentiments laid open and seen through by others1 which likewise may be meant by speaking to be understood1 ,i answer in the negative4 ,the first sign or sound that ever man made1 born of a woman1 was made in behalf1 and intended for the use of him who made it2 and ,i am of opinion1 that the first design of speech was to persuade others1 either to give credit to what the speaking person would have them believe2 or else to act or suffer such things1 as he would compel them to act or suffer1 if they were entirely in his power4 ,hor4 ,speech is likewise made use of to teach1 advise1 and inform others for their benefit1 as well as to persuade them in our own behalf4 ,cleo4 ,and so by the help of it men may accuse themselves and own their crimes2 but nobody would have invented speech for those purposes2 ,i speak of the design1 the first motive and intention that put man upon speaking4 ,we see in children that the first things they endeavour to express with words are their wants and their will2 and their speech is but a confirmation of what they asked1 denied1 or affirmed1 by signs before4 ,hor4 ,but why do you imagine that people would continue to make use of signs and gestures1 after they could sufficiently express themselves in words8 ,cleo4 ,because signs confirm words1 as much as words do signs2 and we see1 even in polite people1 that when they are very eager they can hardly forbear making use of both4 ,when an infant1 in broken imperfect gibberish1 calls for a cake or a play-thing1 and at the same time points at and reaches after it1 this double endeavour makes a stronger impression upon us1 than if the child had spoke its wants in plain words1 without making any signs1 or else looked at and reached after the thing wanted1 without attempting to speak4 ,speech and action assist and corroborate one another1 and experience teaches us that they move us much more1 and are more persuasive jointly than separately2 vis unita fortior2 and when an infant makes use of both1 he acts from the same principle that an orator does when he joins proper gestures to an elaborate declamation4 ,hor4 ,from what you have said it should seem that action is not only more natural1 but likewise more ancient than speech itself1 which before ,i should have thought a paradox4 ,cleo4 ,yet it is true2 and you shall always find that the most forward1 volatile1 and fiery tempers make more use of gestures when they speak1 than others that are more patient and sedate4 ,hor4 ,it is a very diverting scene to see how this is overdone among the ,french1 and still more among the ,portuguese3 ,i have often been amazed to see what distortions of face and body1 as well as other strange gesticulations with hands and feet1 some of them will make in their ordinary discourses3 ,but nothing was more offensive to me1 when ,i was abroad1 than the loudness and violence which most foreigners speak with1 even among persons of quality1 when a dispute arises1 or any thing is to be debated3 before ,i was used to it1 it put me always upon my guard2 for ,i did not question but they were angry2 and ,i often recollected what had been said in order to consider whether it was not something ,i ought to have resented4 ,cleo4 ,the natural ambition and strong desire men have to triumph over1 as well as persuade others1 are the occasion of all this4 ,heightening and lowering the voice at proper seasons1 is a bewitching engine to captivate mean understandings2 and loudness is an assistant to speech1 as well as action is3 uncorrectness1 false grammar1 and even want of sense1 are often happily drowned in noise and great bustle2 and many an argument has been convincing1 that had all its force from the vehemence it was made with3 the weakness of the language itself may be palliatively cured by strength of elocution4 ,hor4 ,i am glad that speaking low is the fashion among well-bred people in ,england2 for bawling and impetuosity ,i cannot endure4 ,cleo4 ,yet this latter is more natural2 and no man ever gave in to the contrary practice1 the fashion you like1 that was not taught it either by precept or example3 and if men do not accustom themselves to it whilst they are young1 it is very difficult to comply with it afterwards3 but it is the most lovely1 as well as most rational piece of good manners that human invention has to boast of in the art of flattery2 for when a man addresses himself to me in a calm manner1 without making gestures or other motions with head or body1 and continues his discourse in the same submissive strain and composure of voice1 without exalting or depressing it1 he1 in the first place1 displays his own modesty and humility in an agreeable manner2 and1 in the second1 makes me a great compliment in the opinion which he seems to have of me2 for by such a behaviour he gives me the pleasure to imagine that he thinks me not influenced by my passions1 but altogether swayed by my reason3 he seems to lay his stress on my judgment1 and therefore to desire1 that ,i should weigh and consider what he says without being ruffled or disturbed3 no man would do this unless he trusted entirely to my good sense1 and the rectitude of my understanding4 ,hor4 ,i have always admired this unaffected manner of speaking1 though ,i never examined so deeply into the meaning of it4 ,cleo4 ,i cannot help thinking1 but that1 next to the laconic and manly spirit that runs through the nation1 we are very much beholden for the strength and beauty of our language to this tranquillity in discourse1 which for many years has been in ,england1 more than any where else1 a custom peculiar to the beau monde1 who1 in all countries1 are the undoubted refiners of language4 ,hor4 ,i thought that it was the preachers1 play-wrights1 orators1 and fine writers that refined upon language4 ,cleo4 ,they make the best of what is ready coined to their hands2 but the true and only mint of words and phrases is the court2 and the polite part of every nation are in possession of the jus et norma loquendi4 ,all technic words indeed1 and terms of art1 belong to the respective artists and dealers1 that primarily and literally make use of them in their business2 but whatever is borrowed from them for metaphorical use1 or from other languages1 living or dead1 must first have the stamp of the court1 and the approbation of beau monde before it can pass for current2 and whatever is not used among them1 or comes abroad without their sanction1 is either vulgar1 pedantic1 or obsolete4 ,orators therefore1 historians1 and all wholesale dealers in words1 are confined to those that have been already well received1 and from that treasure they may pick and choose what is most for their purpose2 but they are not allowed to make new ones of their own1 any more than bankers are suffered to coin4 ,hor4 ,all this while ,i cannot comprehend what advantage or disadvantage speaking loud or low can be of to the language itself2 and if what ,i am saying now was set down1 it must be a real conjurer that1 half a year hence1 should be able to tell by the writing1 whether it had been bawled out or whispered4 ,cleo4 ,i am of opinion that when people of skill and address accustom themselves to speak in the manner aforesaid1 it must in time have an influence upon the language1 and render it strong and expressive4 ,hor4 ,but your reason8 ,cleo4 ,when a man has only his words to trust to1 and the hearer is not to be affected by the delivery of them1 otherwise than if he was to read them himself1 it will infallibly put men upon studying not only for nervous thoughts and perspicuity1 but likewise for words of great energy1 for purity of diction1 compactness of style1 and fullness1 as well as elegancy of expressions4 ,hor4 ,this seems to be far fetched1 and yet ,i do not know but there may be something in it4 ,cleo4 ,i am sure you will think so1 when you consider that men that do speak are equally desirous and endeavouring to persuade and gain the point they labour for1 whether they speak loud or low1 with gestures or without4 ,hor4 ,speech1 you say1 was invented to persuade2 ,i am afraid you lay too much stress upon that3 it certainly is made use of likewise for many other purposes4 ,cleo4 ,i do not deny that4 ,hor4 ,when people scold1 call names1 and pelt one another with scurrilities1 what design is that done with8 ,if it be to persuade others1 to have a worse opinion of themselves than they are supposed to entertain1 ,i believe it is seldom done with success4 ,cleo4 ,calling names is showing others1 and showing them with pleasure and ostentation1 the vile and wretched opinion we have of them2 and persons that make use of opprobrious language1 are often endeavouring to make those whom they give it to1 believe that they think worse of them than they really do4 ,hor4 ,worse than they do6 ,whence does that ever appear8 ,cleo4 ,from the behaviour and the common practice of those that scold and call names4 ,they rip up and exaggerate not only the faults and imperfections of their adversary himself1 but likewise every thing that is ridiculous or contemptible in his friends or relations3 ,they will fly to1 and reflect upon every thing which he is but in the least concerned in1 if any thing can possibly be said of it that is reproachful2 the occupation he follows1 the party he sides with1 or the country he is of4 ,they repeat with joy the calamities and misfortunes that have befallen him or his family3 ,they see the justice of ,providence in them1 and they are sure they are punishments he has deserved4 ,whatever crime he has been suspected of1 they charge him with1 as if it had been proved upon him4 ,they call in every thing to their assistance2 bare surmises1 loose reports1 and known calumnies2 and often upbraid him with what they themselves1 at other times1 have owned not to believe4 ,hor4 ,but how comes the practice of scolding and calling names to be so common among the vulgar all the world over8 there must be a pleasure in it1 though ,i cannot conceive it3 ,i ask to be informed2 what satisfaction or other benefit is it1 that men receive or expect from it8 what view is it done with8 ,cleo4 ,the real cause and inward motive men act from1 when they use ill language1 or call names in earnest1 is1 in the first place1 to give vent to their anger1 which it is troublesome to stifle and conceal4 ,secondly1 to vex and afflict their enemies with greater hopes of impunity than they could reasonably entertain1 if they did them any more substantial mischief1 which the law would revenge3 but this never comes to be a custom1 nor is thought of1 before language is arrived to great perfection1 and society is carried to some degree of politeness4 ,hor4 ,that is merry enough1 to assert that scurrility is the effect of politeness4 ,cleo4 ,you shall call it what you please1 but in its original it is a plain shift to avoid fighting1 and the ill consequences of it2 for nobody ever called another rogue and rascal1 but he would have struck him if it had been in his own power1 and himself had not been withheld by the fear of something or other3 therefore1 where people call names without doing further injury1 it is a sign not only that they have wholesome laws amongst them against open force and violence1 but likewise that they obey and stand in awe of them2 and a man begins to be a tolerable subject1 and is nigh half civilized1 that in his passion will take up and content himself with this paultry equivalent2 which never was done without great self-denial at first3 for otherwise the obvious1 ready1 and unstudied manner of venting and expressing anger1 which nature teaches1 is the same in human creatures that it is in other animals1 and is done by fighting2 as we may observe in infants of two or three months old1 that never yet saw any body out of humour2 for even at that age they will scratch1 fling1 and strike with their heads as well as arms and legs1 when any thing raises their anger1 which is easily1 and at most times unaccountably provoked2 often by hunger1 pain1 and other inward ailments4 ,that they do this by instinct1 something implanted in the frame1 the mechanism of the body before any marks of wit or reason are to be seen in them1 ,i am fully persuaded2 as ,i am likewise1 that nature teaches them the manner of fighting peculiar to their species2 and children strike with their arms as naturally as horses kick1 dogs bite1 and bulls push with their horns4 ,i beg your pardon for this digression4 ,hor4 ,it was natural enough1 but if it had been less so1 you would not have slipt the opportunity of having a fling at human nature1 which you never spare4 ,cleo4 ,we have not a more dangerous enemy than our own inborn pride3 ,i shall ever attack1 and endeavour to mortify it when it is in my power3 ,for the more we are persuaded that the greatest excellencies the best men have to boast of1 are acquired1 the greater stress it will teach us to lay upon education2 and the more truly solicitous it will render us about it3 ,and the absolute necessity of good and early instructions1 can be no way more clearly demonstrated1 than by exposing the deformity as well as the weakness of our untaught nature4 ,hor4 ,let us return to speech3 if the chief design of it is to persuade1 the ,french have got the start of us a great way2 theirs is really a charming language4 ,cleo4 ,so it is without doubt to a ,frenchman4 ,hor4 ,and every body else1 ,i should think1 that understands it1 and has any taste3 do not you think it to be very engaging8 ,cleo4 ,yes1 to one that loves his belly2 for it is very copious in the art of cookery1 and every thing that belongs to eating and drinking4 ,hor4 ,but without banter1 do not you think that the ,french tongue is more proper1 more fit to persuade in1 than ours8 ,cleo4 ,to coax and wheedle in1 ,i believe it may4 ,hor4 ,i cannot conceive what nicety it is you aim at1 in that distinction4 ,cleo4 ,the word you named includes no idea of reproach or disparagement2 the greatest capacities may1 without discredit to them1 yield to persuasion1 as well as the least2 but those who can be gained by coaxing and wheedling1 are commonly supposed to be persons of mean parts and weak understandings4 ,hor4 ,but pray come to the point3 which of the two do you take to be the finest language8 ,cleo4 ,that is hard to determine3 ,nothing is more difficult than to compare the beauties of two languages together1 because what is very much esteemed in the one1 is often not relished at all in the other3 ,in this point1 the ,pulchrum ,honestum varies1 and is different every where1 as the genius of the people differs4 ,i do not set up for a judge1 but what ,i have commonly observed in the two languages1 is this3 ,all favourite expressions in ,french1 are such as either sooth or tickle2 and nothing is more admired in ,english than what pierces or strikes4 ,hor4 ,do you take yourself to be entirely impartial now8 ,cleo4 ,i think so2 but if ,i am not1 ,i do not know how to be sorry for it3 ,there are some things in which it is the interest of the society that men should be biassed2 and ,i do not think it amiss1 that men should be inclined to love their own language1 from the same principle that they love their country4 ,the ,french call us barbarous1 and we say they are fawning3 ,i will not believe the first1 let them believe what they please4 ,do you remember the six lines in the ,cid1 which ,corneille is said to have had a present of six thousand livres for8 ,hor4 ,very well4 ,mon ,pere est mort1 ,elvire1 la premiere ,espee ,dont s'est arme ,rodrigue a sa trame coupee4 ,pleures1 pleures mes yeux1 fondes vous en eau1 ,la moitie de ma vie a mis l'autre au tombeau2 ,et m'oblige a venger1 apres ce coup funeste1 ,cell qui je n'ay plus sur celle qui me reste4 ,cleo4 ,the same thought expressed in our language1 to all the advantage it has in the ,french1 would be hissed by an ,english audience4 ,hor4 ,that is no compliment to the taste of your country4 ,cleo4 ,i do not know that3 ,men may have no bad taste1 and yet not be so ready at conceiving1 which way one half of one's life can put the other into the grave3 ,to me1 ,i own it is puzzling1 and it has too much the air of a riddle to be seen in heroic poetry4 ,hor4 ,can you find no delicacy at all in the thought8 ,cleo4 ,yes2 but it is too fine spun2 it is the delicacy of a cobweb2 there is no strength in it4 ,hor4 ,i have always admired these lines2 but now you have made me out of conceit with them3 ,methinks ,i spy another fault that is much greater4 ,cleo4 ,what is that8 ,hor4 ,the author makes his heroine say a thing which was false in fact3 ,one half1 says ,chimene1 of my life has put the other into the grave1 and obliges me to revenge1 c4 ,which is the nominative of the verb obliges8 ,cleo4 ,one half of my life4 ,hor4 ,here lies the fault2 it is this1 which ,i think is not true2 for the one half of her life1 here mentioned1 is plainly that half which was left2 it is ,rodrigues her lover3 ,which way did he oblige her to seek for revenge8 ,cleo4 ,by what he had done1 killing her father4 ,hor4 ,no1 ,cleomenes1 this excuse is insufficient4 ,chimene's calamity sprung from the dilemma she was in between her love and her duty2 when the latter was inexorable1 and violently pressing her to solicit the punishment1 and employ with zeal all her interest and eloquence to obtain the death of him1 whom the first had made dearer to her than her own life2 and therefore it was the half that was gone1 that was put in the grave1 her dead father1 and not ,rodrigues which obliged her to sue for justice3 ,had the obligation she lay under come from this quarter1 it might soon have been cancelled1 and herself released without crying out her eyes4 ,cleo4 ,i beg pardon for differing from you1 but ,i believe the poet is in the right4 ,hor4 ,pray1 consider which it was that made ,chimene prosecute ,rodrigues1 love1 or honour4 ,cleo4 ,i do2 but still ,i cannot help thinking1 but that her lover1 by having killed her father1 obliged ,chimene to prosecute him1 in the same manner as a man1 who will give no satisfaction to his creditors1 obliges them to arrest him2 or as we would say to a coxcomb1 who is offending us with his discourse1 ,if you go on thus1 ,sir1 you will oblige me to treat you ill3 ,though all this while the debtor might be as little desirous of being arrested1 and the coxcomb of being ill treated1 as ,rodrigues was of being prosecuted4 ,hor4 ,i believe you are in the right1 and ,i beg ,corneille's pardon4 ,but now ,i desire you would tell me what you have further to say of society3 ,what other advantages do multitudes receive from the invention of letters1 besides the improvements it makes in their laws and language8 ,cleo4 ,it is an encouragement to all other inventions in general1 by preserving the knowledge of every useful improvement that is made4 ,when laws begin to be well known1 and the execution of them is facilitated by general approbation1 multitudes may be kept in tolerable concord among themselves3 ,it is then that it appears1 and not before1 how much the superiority of man's understanding beyond other animals1 contributes to his sociableness1 which is only retarded by it in his savage state4 ,hor4 ,how so1 pray2 ,i do not understand you4 ,cleo4 ,the superiority of understanding1 in the first place1 makes man sooner sensible of grief and joy1 and capable of entertaining either with greater difference as to the degrees1 than they are felt in other creatures3 ,secondly1 it renders him more industrious to please himself2 that is1 it furnishes self-love with a greater variety of shifts to exert itself on all emergencies1 than is made use of by animals of less capacity4 ,superiority of understanding likewise gives us a foresight1 and inspires us with hopes1 of which other creatures have little1 and that only of things immediately before them4 ,all these things are so many tools1 arguments1 by which self-love reasons us into content1 and renders us patient under many afflictions1 for the sake of supplying those wants that are most pressing3 this is of infinite use to a man1 who finds himself born in a body politic1 and it must make him fond of society2 whereas1 the same endowment before that time1 the same superiority of understanding in the state of nature1 can only serve to render man incurably averse to society1 and more obstinately tenacious of his savage liberty1 than any other creature would be1 that is equally necessitous4 ,hor4 ,i do not know how to refute you3 there is a justness of thought in what you say1 which ,i am forced to assent to2 and yet it seems strange3 ,how come you by this insight into the heart of man1 and which way is that skill of unravelling human nature to be obtained8 ,cleo4 ,by diligently observing what excellencies and qualifications are really acquired in a well-accomplished man2 and having done this impartially1 we may be sure that the remainder of him is nature4 ,it is for want of duly separating and keeping asunder these two things1 that men have uttered such absurdities on this subject2 alleging as the causes of man's fitness for society1 such qualifications as no man ever was endued with1 that was not educated in a society1 a civil establishment1 of several hundred years standing4 ,but the flatterers of our species keep this carefully from our view3 instead of separating what is acquired from what is natural1 and distinguishing between them1 they take pains to unite and confound them together4 ,hor4 ,why do they8 ,i do not see the compliment2 since the acquired1 as well as natural parts1 belong to the same person2 and the one is not more inseparable from him than the other4 ,cleo4 ,nothing is so near to a man1 nor so really and entirely his own1 as what he has from nature2 and when that dear self1 for the sake of which he values or despises1 loves or hates every thing else1 comes to be stript and abstracted from all foreign acquisitions1 human nature makes a poor figure3 it shows a nakedness1 or at least an undress1 which no man cares to be seen in4 ,there is nothing we can be possessed of that is worth having1 which we do not endeavour1 closely to annex1 and make an ornament of to ourselves2 even wealth and power1 and all the gifts of fortune1 that are plainly adventitious1 and altogether remote from our persons2 whilst they are our right and property1 we do not love to be considered without them4 ,we see likewise that men1 who are come to be great in the world from despicable beginnings1 do not love to hear of their origin4 ,hor4 ,that is no general rule4 ,cleo4 ,i believe it is1 though there may be exceptions from it2 and these are not without reasons4 ,when a man is proud of his parts1 and wants to be esteemed for his diligence1 penetration1 quickness and assiduity1 he will make perhaps an ingenuous confession1 even to the exposing of his parents2 and in order to set off the merit that raised him1 bespeaking himself of his original meanness4 ,but this is commonly done before inferiors1 whose envy will be lessened by it1 and who will applaud his candour and humility in owning this blemish3 but not a word of this before his betters1 who value themselves upon their families2 and such men could heartily wish that their parentage was unknown1 whenever they are with those that are their equals in quality1 though superior to them in birth2 by whom they know that they are hated for their advancement1 and despised for the lowness of their extraction4 ,but ,i have a shorter way of proving my assertion4 ,pray1 is it good manners to tell a man that he is meanly born1 or to hint at his descent1 when it is known to be vulgar8 ,hor4 ,no3 ,i do not say it is4 ,cleo4 ,that decides it1 by showing the general opinion about it4 ,noble ancestors1 and every thing else that is honourable and esteemed1 and can be drawn within our sphere1 are an advantage to our persons1 and we all desire they should be looked upon as our own4 ,hor4 ,ovid did not think so1 when he said1 ,nam genus proavos qu non fecimus ipsi1 vix ea nostra voco4 ,cleo4 ,a pretty piece of modesty in a speech1 where a man takes pains to prove that ,jupiter was his great grandfather4 ,what signifies a theory1 which a man destroys by his practice8 ,did you ever know a person of quality pleased with being called a bastard1 though he owed his being1 as well as his greatness1 chiefly to his mother's impudicity8 ,hor4 ,by things acquired1 ,i thought you meant learning and virtue2 how come you to talk of birth and descent8 ,cleo4 ,by showing you1 that men are unwilling to have any thing that is honourable separated from themselves1 though it is remote from1 and has nothing to do with their persons3 ,i would convince you of the little probability there is1 that we should be pleased with being considered1 abstract from what really belongs to us2 and qualifications1 that in the opinion of the best and wisest are the only things for which we ought to be valued4 ,when men are well-accomplished1 they are ashamed of the lowest steps from which they rose to that perfection2 and the more civilized they are1 the more they think it injurious to have their nature seen1 without the improvements that have been made upon it4 ,the most correct authors would blush to see every thing published1 which in the composing of their works they blotted out and stifled2 and which yet it is certain they once conceived3 for this reason they are justly compared to architects1 that remove the scaffolding before they show their buildings4 ,all ornaments bespeak the value we have for the things adorned4 ,do not you think1 that the first red or white that ever was laid upon a face1 and the first false hair that was wore1 were put on with great secrecy1 and with a design to deceive8 ,hor4 ,in ,france1 painting is now looked upon as part of a woman's dress2 they make no mystery of it4 ,cleo4 ,so it is with all the impositions of this nature1 when they come to be so gross that they can be hid no longer2 as men's perukes all over ,europe3 but if these things could be concealed1 and were not known1 the tawny coquette would heartily wish that the ridiculous dawbing she plasters herself with might pass for complexion2 and the bald-pated beau would be as glad to have his full-bottomed wig looked upon as a natural head of hair4 ,nobody puts in artificial teeth1 but to hide the loss of his own4 ,hor4 ,but is not a man's knowledge a real part of himself8 ,cleo4 ,yes1 and so is his politeness2 but neither of them belong to his nature1 any more than his gold watch or his diamond ring2 and even from these he endeavours to draw a value and respect to his person4 ,the most admired among the fashionable people that delight in outward vanity1 and know how to dress well1 would be highly displeased if their clothes1 and skill in putting them on1 should be looked upon otherwise than as part of themselves2 nay1 it is this part of them only1 which1 whilst they are unknown1 can procure them access to the highest companies1 the courts of princes2 where it is manifest1 that both sexes are either admitted or refused1 by no other judgment than what is formed of them from their dress1 without the least regard to their goodness1 or their understanding4 ,hor4 ,i believe ,i apprehend you4 ,it is our fondness of that self1 which we hardly know what it consists in1 that could first make us think of embellishing our persons2 and when we have taken pains in correcting1 polishing1 and beautifying nature1 the same self-love makes us unwilling to have the ornaments seen separately from the thing adorned4 ,cleo4 ,the reason is obvious4 ,it is that self we are in love with1 before it is adorned1 as well as after1 and every thing which is confessed to be acquired1 seems to point at our original nakedness1 and to upbraid us with our natural wants2 ,i would say1 the meanness and deficiency of our nature4 ,that no bravery is so useful in war1 as that which is artificial1 is undeniable2 yet the soldier1 that by art and discipline has manifestly been tricked and wheedled into courage1 after he has behaved himself in two or three battles with intrepidity1 will never endure to hear that he has not natural valour2 though all his acquaintance1 as well as himself1 remember the time that he was an arrant coward4 ,hor4 ,but since the love1 affection1 and benevolence we naturally have for our species1 is not greater than other creatures have for theirs1 how comes it1 that man gives more ample demonstrations of this love on thousand occasions1 than any other animal8 ,cleo4 ,because no other animal has the same capacity or opportunity to do it4 ,but you may ask the same of his hatred3 the greater knowledge and the more wealth and power a man has1 the more capable he is of rendering others sensible of the passion he is affected with1 as well when he hates as when he loves them4 ,the more a man remains uncivilized1 and the less he is removed from the state of nature1 the less his love is to be depended upon4 ,hor4 ,there is more honesty and less deceit among plain1 untaught people1 than there is among those that are more artful2 and therefore ,i should have looked for true love and unfeigned affection among those that live in a natural simplicity1 rather than any where else4 ,cleo4 ,you speak of sincerity2 but the love which ,i said was less to be depended upon in untaught than in civilized people1 ,i supposed to be real and sincere in both4 ,artful people may dissemble love1 and pretend to friendship1 where they have none2 but they are influenced by their passions and natural appetites as well as savages1 though they gratify them in another manner3 well-bred people behave themselves in the choice of diet and the taking of their repasts1 very differently from savages2 so they do in their amours2 but hunger and lust are the same in both4 ,an artful man1 nay1 the greatest hypocrite1 whatever his behaviour is abroad1 may love his wife and children at his heart1 and the sincerest man can do no more4 ,my business is to demonstrate to you1 that the good qualities men compliment our nature and the whole species with1 are the result of art and education4 ,the reason why love is little to be depended upon in those that are uncivilized1 is because the passions in them are more fleeting and inconstant2 they oftener jostle out and succeed one another1 than they are and do in well-bred people1 persons that are well educated1 have learned to study their ease and the comforts of life2 to tie themselves up to rules and decorums for their own advantage1 and often to submit to small inconveniencies to avoid greater4 ,among the lowest vulgar1 and those of the meanest education of all1 you seldom see a lasting harmony3 you shall have a man and his wife that have a real affection for one another1 be full of love one hour1 and disagree the next for a trifle2 and the lives of many are made miserable from no other faults in themselves1 than their want of manners and discretion4 ,without design they will often talk imprudently1 until they raise one another's anger2 which neither of them being able to stifle1 she scolds at him2 he beats her2 she bursts out into tears2 this moves him1 he is sorry2 both repent1 and are friends again3 and with all the sincerity imaginable resolve never to quarrel for the future1 as long as they live3 all this will pass between them in less than half a day1 and will perhaps be repeated once a month1 or oftener1 as provocations offer1 or either of them is more or less prone to anger4 ,affection never remained long uninterrupted between two persons without art2 and the best friends1 if they are always together1 will fall out1 unless great discretion be used on both sides4 ,hor4 ,i have always been of your opinion1 that the more men were civilized the happier they were2 but since nations can never be made polite but by length of time1 and mankind must have been always miserable before they had written laws1 how come poets and others to launch out so much in praise of the golden age1 in which they pretend there was so much peace1 love1 and sincerity8 ,cleo4 ,for the same reason that heralds compliment obscure men of unknown extraction with illustrious pedigrees3 as there is no mortal of high descent1 but who values himself upon his family1 so extolling the virtue and happiness of their ancestors1 can never fail pleasing every member of a society3 but what stress would you lay upon the fictions of poets8 ,hor4 ,you reason very clearly1 and with great freedom1 against all heathen superstition1 and never suffer yourself to be imposed upon by any fraud from that quarter2 but when you meet with any thing belonging to the ,jewish or ,christian religion1 you are as credulous as any of the vulgar4 ,cleo4 ,i am sorry you should think so4 ,hor4 ,what ,i say is fact4 ,a man that contentedly swallows every thing that is said of ,noah and his ark1 ought not to laugh at the story of ,deucalion and ,pyrrha4 ,cleo4 ,is it as credible1 that human creatures should spring from stones1 because an old man and his wife threw them over their heads1 as that a man and his family1 with a great number of birds and beasts1 should be preserved in a large ship1 made convenient for that purpose8 ,hor4 ,but you are partial3 what odds is there between a stone and a lump of earth1 for either of them to become a human creature8 ,i can as easily conceive how a stone should be turned into a man or a woman1 as how a man or a woman should be turned into a stone2 and ,i think it not more strange1 that a woman should be changed into a tree1 as was ,daphne1 or into marble as ,niobe1 than that she should be transformed into a pillar of salt1 as the wife of ,lot was4 ,pray suffer me to catechise you a little4 ,cleo4 ,you will hear me afterwards1 ,i hope4 ,hor4 ,yes1 yes4 ,do you believe ,hesiod8 ,cleo4 ,no4 ,hor4 ,ovid's ,metamorphosis8 ,cleo4 ,no4 ,hor4 ,but you believe the story of ,adam and ,eve1 and ,paradise4 ,cleo4 ,yes4 ,hor4 ,that they were produced at once1 ,i mean at their full growth2 he from a lump of earth1 and she from one of his ribs8 ,cleo4 ,yes4 ,hor4 ,and that as soon as they were made1 they could speak1 reason1 and were endued with knowledge8 ,cleo4 ,yes4 ,hor4 ,in short1 you believe the innocence1 the delight1 and all the wonders of ,paradise1 that are related by one man2 at the same time that you will not believe what has been told us by many1 of the uprightness1 the concord1 and the happiness of a golden age4 ,cleo4 ,that is very true4 ,hor4 ,now give me leave to show you1 how unaccountable1 as well as partial1 you are in this4 ,in the first place1 the things naturally impossible1 which you believe1 are contrary to your own doctrine1 the opinion you have laid down1 and which ,i believe to be true3 for you have proved1 that no man would ever be able to speak1 unless he was taught it2 that reasoning and thinking come upon us by slow degrees2 and that we can know nothing that has not from without been conveyed to the brain1 and communicated to us through the organs of the senses4 ,secondly1 in what you reject as fabulous1 there is no manner of improbability4 ,we know from history1 and daily experience teaches us1 that almost all the wars and private quarrels that have at any time disturbed mankind1 have had their rise from the differences about superiority1 and the meum tuum3 therefore before cunning1 covetousness and deceit1 crept into the world2 before titles of honour1 and the distinction between servant and master were known2 why might not moderate numbers of people have lived together in peace and amity1 when they enjoyed every thing in common2 and have been content with the product of the earth in a fertile soil and a happy climate8 ,why cannot you believe this8 ,cleo4 ,because it is inconsistent with the nature of human creatures1 that any number of them should ever live together in tolerable concord1 without laws or government1 let the soil1 the climate1 and their plenty be whatever the most luxuriant imagination shall be pleased to fancy them4 ,but ,adam was altogether the workmanship of ,god2 a preternatural production3 his speech and knowledge1 his goodness and innocence were as miraculous1 as every other part of his frame4 ,hor4 ,indeed1 ,cleomenes1 this is insufferable2 when we are talking philosophy you foist in miracles3 why may not ,i do the same1 and lay that the people of the golden age were made happy by miracle8 ,cleo4 ,it is more probable that one miracle should1 at a stated time1 have produced a male and female1 from whom all the rest of mankind are descended in a natural way2 than that by a continued series of miracles several generations of people should have all been made to live and act contrary to their nature2 for this must follow from the account we have of the golden and silver ages4 ,in ,moses1 the first natural man1 the first that was born of a woman1 by envying and slaying his brother1 gives an ample evidence of the domineering spirit1 and the principle of sovereignty1 which ,i have asserted to belong to our nature4 ,hor4 ,you will not be counted credulous1 and yet you believe all those stories1 which even some of our divines have called ridiculous1 if literally understood4 ,but ,i do not insist upon the golden age1 if you will give up ,paradise3 a man of sense1 and a philosopher1 should believe neither4 ,cleo4 ,yet you have told me that you believed the ,old and ,new ,testament4 ,hor4 ,i never said that ,i believed every thing that is in them1 in a literal sense4 ,but why should you believe miracles at all8 ,cleo4 ,because ,i cannot help it3 and ,i promise never to mention the name to you again1 if you can show me the bare possibility that man could ever have been produced1 brought into the world without miracle4 ,do you believe there ever was a man who had made himself8 ,hor4 ,no3 that is a plain contradiction4 ,cleo4 ,then it is manifest the first man must have been made by something2 and what ,i say of man1 ,i may say of all matter and motion in general4 ,the doctrine of ,epicurus1 that every thing is derived from the concourse and fortuitous jumble of atoms1 is monstrous and extravagant beyond all other follies4 ,hor4 ,yet there is no mathematical demonstration against it4 ,cleo4 ,nor is there one to prove1 that the sun is not in love with the moon1 if one had a mind to advance it2 and yet ,i think it a greater reproach to human understanding to believe either1 than it is to believe the most childish stories that are told of fairies and hobgoblins4 ,hor4 ,but there is an axiom very little inferior to a mathematical demonstration1 ex nihilo nihil fit1 that is directly clashing with1 and contradicts the creation out of nothing4 ,do you understand how something can come from nothing8 ,cleo4 ,i do not1 ,i confess1 any more than ,i can comprehend eternity1 or the ,deity itself3 but when ,i cannot comprehend what my reason assures me must necessarily exist1 there is no axiom or demonstration clearer to me1 than that the fault lies in my want of capacity1 the shallowness of my understanding4 ,from the little we know of the sun and stars1 their magnitudes1 distances1 and motion2 and what we are more nearly acquainted with1 the gross visible parts in the structure of animals and their economy1 it is demonstrable1 that they are the effects of an intelligent cause1 and the contrivance of a ,being infinite in wisdom as well as power4 ,hor4 ,but let wisdom be as superlative1 and power as extensive as it is possible for them to be1 still it is impossible to conceive how they should exert themselves1 unless they had something to act upon4 ,cleo4 ,this is not the only thing which1 though it be true1 we are not able to conceive3 ,how came the first man to exist8 and yet here we are4 ,heat and moisture are the plain effects from manifest causes1 and though they bear a great sway1 even in the mineral as well as the animal and vegetable world1 yet they cannot produce a sprig of grass without a previous seed4 ,hor4 ,as we ourselves1 and every thing we see1 are the undoubted parts of some one whole1 some are of opinion1 that this all1 the to pan1 the universe1 was from all eternity4 ,cleo4 ,this is not more satisfactory or comprehensible than the system of ,epicurus1 who derives every thing from wild chance1 and an undesigned struggle of senseless atoms4 ,when we behold things which our reason tells us could not have been produced without wisdom and power1 in a degree far beyond our comprehension1 can any thing be more contrary to1 or clashing with that same reason1 than that the things in which that high wisdom and great power are visibly displayed1 should be coeval with the wisdom and power themselves that contrived and wrought them8 ,yet this doctrine which is spinosism in epitome1 after having been neglected many years1 begins to prevail again1 and the atoms lose ground3 for of atheism1 as well as superstition1 there are different kinds that have their periods and returns1 after they have been long exploded4 ,hor4 ,what makes you couple together two things so diametrically opposite8 ,cleo4 ,there is greater affinity between them than you imagine3 they are of the same origin4 ,hor4 ,what1 atheism and superstition6 ,cleo4 ,yes1 indeed2 they both have their rise from the same cause1 the same defect in the mind of man1 our want of capacity in discerning truth1 and natural ignorance of the ,divine essence4 ,men that from their most early youth have not been imbued with the principles of the true religion1 and have not afterwards continued to be strictly educated in the same1 are all in great danger of falling either into the one or the other1 according to the difference there is in the temperament and complexion they are of1 the circumstances they are in1 and the company they converse with4 ,weak minds1 and those that are brought up in ignorance1 and a low condition1 such as are much exposed to fortune1 men of slavish principles1 the covetous and mean-spirited1 are all naturally inclined to1 and easily susceptible of superstition2 and there is no absurdity so gross1 nor contradiction so plain1 which the dregs of the people1 most gamesters1 and nineteen women in twenty1 may not be taught to believe1 concerning invisible causes4 ,therefore multitudes are never tainted with irreligion2 and the less civilized nations are1 the more boundless is their credulity4 ,on the contrary1 men of parts and spirit1 of thought and reflection1 the assertors of liberty1 such as meddle with mathematics and natural philosophy1 most inquisitive men1 the disinterested that live in ease and plenty2 if their youth has been neglected1 and they are not well-grounded in the principles of the true religion1 are prone to infidelity2 especially such amongst them1 whose pride and sufficiency are greater than ordinary2 and if persons of this sort fall into hands of unbelievers1 they run great hazard of becoming atheists or sceptics4 ,hor4 ,the method of education you recommend1 in pinning men down to an opinion1 may be very good to make bigots1 and raise a strong party to the priests2 but to have good subjects1 and moral men1 nothing is better than to inspire youth with the love of virtue1 and strongly to imbue them with sentiments of justice and probity1 and the true notions of honour and politeness4 ,these are the true specifics to cure man's nature1 and destroy in him the savage principles of sovereignty and selfishness1 that infest and are so mischievous to it4 ,as to religious matters1 prepossessing the mind1 and forcing youth into a belief1 is more partial and unfair1 than it is to leave them unbiassed1 and unprejudiced till they come to maturity1 and are fit to judge as well as choose for themselves4 ,cleo4 ,it is this fair and impartial management you speak in praise of1 that will ever promote and increase unbelief2 and nothing has contributed more to the growth of deism in this kingdom1 than the remissness of education in sacred matters1 which for some time has been in fashion among the better sort4 ,hor4 ,the public welfare ought to be our principal care2 and ,i am well assured1 that it is not bigotry to a sect or persuasion2 but common honesty1 uprightness in all dealings1 and benevolence to one another1 which the society stands most in need of4 ,cleo4 ,i do not speak up for bigotry2 and where the ,christian religion is thoroughly taught as it should be1 it is impossible1 that honesty1 uprightness or benevolence should ever be forgot2 and no appearances of those virtues are to be trusted to1 unless they proceed from that motive2 for without the belief of another world1 a man is under no obligation for his sincerity in this3 his very oath is no tie upon him4 ,hor4 ,what is it upon an hypocrite that dares to be perjured8 ,cleo4 ,no man's oath is ever taken1 if it is known that once he has been forsworn2 nor can ,i ever be deceived by an hypocrite1 when he tells me that he is one2 and ,i shall never believe a man to be an atheist1 unless he owns it himself4 ,hor4 ,i do not believe there are real atheists in the world4 ,cleo4 ,i will not quarrel about words2 but our modern deism is no greater security than atheism3 for a man's acknowledging the being of a ,god1 even an intelligent first ,cause1 is of no use1 either to himself or others1 if he denies1 a ,providence and a future state4 ,hor4 ,after all1 ,i do not think that virtue has any more relation to credulity1 than it has to want of faith4 ,cleo4 ,yet it would and ought to have1 if we were consistent with ourselves2 and if men were swayed in their actions by the principles they side with1 and the opinion they profess themselves to be of1 all atheists would be devils1 and superstitious men saints3 but this is not true2 there are atheists of good morals1 and great villains superstitious3 nay1 ,i do not believe there is any wickedness that the worst atheist can commit1 but superstitious men may be guilty of it2 impiety not excepted2 for nothing is more common amongst rakes and gamesters1 than to hear men blaspheme1 that believe in spirits1 and are afraid of the devil4 ,i have no greater opinion of superstition than ,i have of atheism2 what ,i aimed at1 was to prevent and guard against both2 and ,i am persuaded that there is no other antidote to be obtained by human means1 so powerful and infallible against the poison of either1 as what ,i have mentioned4 ,as to the truth of our descent from ,adam1 ,i would not be a believer1 and cease to be a rational creature3 what ,i have to say for it1 is this4 ,we are convinced that human understanding is limited2 and by the help of every little reflection1 we may be as certain that the narrowness of its bounds1 its being so limited1 is the very thing1 the sole cause1 which palpably hinders us from diving into our origin by dint of penetration3 the consequence is1 that to come at the truth of this origin1 which is of very great concern to us1 something is to be believed3 but what or whom to believe is the question4 ,if ,i cannot demonstrate to you that ,moses was divinely inspired1 you will be forced to confess1 that there never was any thing more extraordinary in the world1 than that1 in a most superstitious age1 one man brought up among the grossest idolaters1 that had the vilest and most abominable notions of the ,godhead1 should1 without help1 as we know of1 find out the most hidden and most important truths by his natural capacity only2 for1 besides the deep insight he had in human nature1 as appears from the decalogue1 it is manifest that he was acquainted with the creation out of nothing1 the unity and immense greatness of that ,invisible ,power that has made the universe2 and that he taught this to the ,israelites1 fifteen centuries before any other nation upon earth was so far enlightened3 it is undeniable1 moreover1 that the history of ,moses1 concerning the beginning of the world and mankind1 is the most ancient and least improbable of any that are extant2 that others1 who have wrote after him on the same subject1 appear most of them to be imperfect copiers of him2 and that the relations which seem not to have been borrowed from ,moses1 as the accounts we have of ,sommona-codam1 ,confucius1 and others1 are less rational1 and fifty times more extravagant and incredible1 than any thing contained in the ,pentateuch4 ,as to the things revealed1 the plan itself1 abstract from faith and religion2 when we have weighed every system that has been advanced1 we shall find2 that1 since we must have had a beginning1 nothing is more rational or more agreeable to good sense1 than to derive our origin from an incomprehensible creative ,power1 that was the first ,mover and ,author of all things4 ,hor4 ,i never heard any body entertain higher notions1 or more noble sentiments of the ,deity1 than at different times ,i have heard from you2 pray1 when you read ,moses1 do not you meet with several things in the economy of ,paradise1 and the conversation between ,god and ,adam1 that seem to be low1 unworthy1 and altogether inconsistent with the sublime ideas you are used to form of the ,supreme ,being4 ,cleo4 ,i freely own1 not only that ,i have thought so1 but likewise that ,i have long stumbled at it3 but when ,i consider1 on the one hand1 that the more human knowledge increases1 the more consummate and unerring the ,divine ,wisdom appears to be1 in every thing we can have any insight into2 and on the other1 that the things hitherto detected1 either by chance or industry1 are very inconsiderable both in number and value1 if compared to the vast multitude of weightier matters that are left behind and remain still undiscovered3 ,when1 ,i say1 ,i consider these things1 ,i cannot help thinking1 that there may be very wise reasons for what we find fault with1 that are1 and perhaps ever will be1 unknown to men as long the world endures4 ,hor4 ,but why should he remain labouring under difficulties we can easily solve1 and not say with ,dr4 ,burnet1 and several others1 that those things are allegories1 and to be understood in a figurative sense8 ,cleo4 ,i have nothing against it2 and shall always applaud the ingenuity and good offices of men1 who endeavour to reconcile religious mysteries to human reason and probability2 but ,i insist upon it1 that nobody can disprove any thing that is said in the ,pentateuch1 in the most literal sense2 and ,i defy the wit of man to frame or contrive a story1 the best concerted fable they can invent1 how man came into the world1 which ,i shall not find as much fault with1 and be able to make as strong objections to1 as the enemies of religion have found with1 and raised against the account of ,moses3 ,if ,i may be allowed to take the same liberty with their known forgery1 which they take with the ,bible1 before they have brought one argument against the veracity of it4 ,hor4 ,it may be so4 ,but as first ,i was the occasion of this long digression1 by mentioning the golden age2 so now1 ,i desire we may return to our subject4 ,what time1 how many ages do you think it would require to have a well-civilized nation from such a savage pair as yours8 ,cleo4 ,that is very uncertain2 and ,i believe it impossible1 to determine any thing about it4 ,from what has been said1 it is manifest1 that the family descending from such a stock1 would be crumbled to pieces1 reunited1 and dispersed again several times1 before the whole of any part of it could be advanced to any degree of politeness4 ,the best forms of government are subject to revolutions1 and a great many things must concur to keep a society of men together1 till they become a civilized nation4 ,hor4 ,is not a vast deal owing1 in the raising of a nation1 to the difference there is in the spirit and genius of people8 ,cleo4 ,nothing1 but what depends upon climates1 which is soon over-balanced by skilful government4 ,courage and cowardice1 in all bodies of men1 depend entirely upon exercise and discipline4 ,arts and sciences seldom come before riches1 and both flow in faster or slower1 according to the capacity of the governors1 the situation of the people1 and the opportunities they have of improvements2 but the first is the chief3 to preserve peace and tranquillity among multitudes of different views1 and make them all labour for one interest1 is a great task2 and nothing in human affairs requires greater knowledge1 than the art of governing4 ,hor4 ,according to your system1 it should be little more1 than guarding against human nature4 ,cleo4 ,but it is a great while before that nature can be rightly understood2 and it is the work of ages to find out the true use of the passions1 and to raise a politician that can make every frailty of the members add strength to the whole body1 and by dextrous management turn private ,vices into public ,benefits4 ,hor4 ,it must be a great advantage to an age1 when many extraordinary persons are born in it4 ,cleo4 ,it is not genius1 so much as experience1 that helps men to good laws3 ,solon1 ,lycurgus1 ,socrates and ,plato1 all travelled for their knowledge1 which they communicated to others4 ,the wisest laws of human invention are generally owing to the evasions of bad men1 whose cunning had eluded the force of former ordinances that had been made with less caution4 ,hor4 ,i fancy that the invention of iron1 and working the oar into a metal1 must contribute very much to the completing of society2 because men can have no tools nor agriculture without it4 ,cleo4 ,iron is certainly very useful2 but shells and flints1 and hardening of wood by fire1 are substitutes that men make a shift with2 if they can but have peace1 live in quiet1 and enjoy the fruits of their labour4 ,could you ever have believed1 that a man without hands could have shaved himself1 wrote good characters1 and made use of a needle and thread with his feet8 ,yet this we have seen4 ,it is said by some men of reputation1 that the ,americans in ,mexico and ,peru have all the signs of an infant world2 because1 when the ,europeans first came among them1 they wanted a great many things1 that seem to be of easy invention4 ,but considering that they had nobody to borrow from1 and no iron at all1 it is amazing which way they could arrive at the perfection we found them in4 ,first1 it is impossible to know1 how long multitudes may have been troublesome to one another1 before the invention of letters came among them1 and they had any written laws4 ,secondly1 from the many chasms in history1 we know by experience1 that the accounts of transactions and times in which letters are known1 may be entirely lost4 ,wars and human discord may destroy the most civilized nations1 only by dispersing them2 and general devastations spare arts and sciences no more than they do cities and palaces4 ,that all men are born with a strong desire1 and no capacity at all to govern1 has occasioned an infinity of good and evil4 ,invasions and persecutions1 by mixing and scattering our species1 have made strange alterations in the world4 ,sometimes large empires are divided into several parts1 and produce new kingdoms and principalities2 at others1 great conquerors in few years bring different nations under one dominion4 ,from the decay of the ,roman empire alone we may learn1 that arts and sciences are more perishable1 much sooner lost1 than buildings or inscriptions2 and that a deluge of ignorance may overspread countries1 without their ceasing to be inhabited4 ,hor4 ,but what is it at last1 that raises opulent cities and powerful nations from the smallest beginnings8 ,cleo4 ,providence4 ,hor4 ,but ,providence makes use of means that are visible2 ,i want to know the engines it is performed with4 ,cleo4 ,all the ground work that is required to aggrandize nations1 you have seen in the ,fable of the ,bees4 ,all sound politics1 and the whole art of governing1 are entirely built upon the knowledge of human nature4 ,the great business in general of a politician is to promote1 and1 if he can1 reward all good and useful actions on the one hand2 and on the other1 to punish1 or at least discourage every thing that is destructive or hurtful to society4 ,to name particulars would be an endless task4 ,anger1 lust1 and pride1 may be the causes of innumerable mischiefs1 that are all carefully to be guarded against3 but setting them aside1 the regulations only that are required to defeat and prevent all the machinations and contrivances that avarice and envy may put man upon1 to the detriment of his neighbour1 are almost infinite4 ,would you be convinced of these truths1 do but employ yourself for a month or two1 in surveying and minutely examining into every art and science1 every trade1 handicraft and occupation1 that are professed and followed in such a city as ,london2 and all the laws1 prohibitions1 ordinances and restrictions that have been found absolutely necessary1 to hinder both private men and bodies corporate1 in so many different stations1 first from interfering with the public peace and welfare2 secondly1 from openly wronging and secretly over-reaching1 or any other way injuring one another3 if you will give yourself this trouble1 you will find the number of clauses and provisos1 to govern a large flourishing city well1 to be prodigious beyond imagination2 and yet every one of them tending to the same purpose1 the curbing1 restraining1 and disappointing the inordinate passions1 and hurtful frailties of man4 ,you will find1 moreover1 which is still more to be admired1 the greater part of the articles in this vast multitude of regulations1 when well understood1 to be the result of consummate wisdom4 ,hor4 ,how could these things exist1 if there had not been men of very bright parts and uncommon talents8 ,cleo4 ,among the things ,i hint at1 there are very few that are the work of one man1 or of one generation2 the greatest part of them are the product1 the joint labour of several ages4 ,remember what in our third conversation ,i told you1 concerning the arts of ship-building and politeness4 ,the wisdom ,i speak of1 is not the offspring of a fine understanding1 or intense thinking1 but of sound and deliberate judgment1 acquired from a long experience in business1 and a multiplicity of observations4 ,by this sort of wisdom1 and length of time1 it may be brought about1 that there shall be no greater difficulty in governing a large city1 than 7pardon the lowness of the simile7 there is in weaving of stockings4 ,hor4 ,very low indeed4 ,cleo4 ,yet ,i know nothing to which the laws and established economy of a well ordered city may be more justly compared1 than the knitting-frame4 ,the machine1 at first view1 is intricate and unintelligible2 yet the effects of it are exact and beautiful2 and in what is produced by it1 there is a surprising regularity3 but the beauty and exactness in the manufacture are principally1 if not altogether1 owing to the happiness of the invention1 the contrivance of the engine4 ,for the greatest artist at it can furnish us with no better work1 than may be made by almost any scoundrel after half a year's practice4 ,hor4 ,though your comparison be low1 ,i must own that it very well illustrates your meaning4 ,cleo4 ,whilst you spoke1 ,i have thought of another1 which is better4 ,it is common now1 to have clocks that are made to play several tunes with great exactness3 the study and labour1 as well as trouble of disappointments1 which1 in doing and undoing1 such a contrivance must necessarily have cost from the beginning to the end1 are not to be thought of without astonishment2 there is something analogous to this in the government of a flourishing city1 that has lasted uninterrupted for several ages3 there is no part of the wholesome regulations belonging to it1 even the most trifling and minute1 about which great pains and consideration have not been employed1 as well as length of time2 and if you will look into the history and antiquity of any such city1 you will find that the changes1 repeals1 additions and amendments1 that have been made in and to the laws and ordinances by which it is ruled1 are in number prodigious3 but that when once they are brought to as much perfection as art and human wisdom can carry them1 the whole machine may be made to play of itself1 with as little skill as it required to wind up a clock2 and the government of a large city once put into good order1 the magistrates only following their noses1 will continue to go right for a while1 though there was not a wise man in it2 provided that the care of ,providence was to watch over it in the same manner as it did before4 ,hor4 ,but supposing the government of a large city1 when it is once established1 to be very easy1 it is not so with whole states and kingdoms3 is it not a great blessing to a nation1 to have all places of honour and great trust filled with men of parts and application1 of probity and virtue8 ,cleo4 ,yes2 and of learning1 moderation1 frugality1 candour and affability3 look out for such as fast as you can2 but in the mean time the places cannot stand open1 the offices must be served by such as you can get4 ,hor4 ,you seem to insinuate1 that there is a great scarcity of good men in the nation4 ,cleo4 ,i do not speak of our nation in particular1 but of all states and kingdoms in general4 ,what ,i would say1 is1 that it is the interest of every nation to have their home government1 and every branch of the civil administration so wisely contrived1 that every man of middling capacity and reputation may be fit for any of the highest posts4 ,hor4 ,that is absolutely impossible1 at least in such a nation as ours3 for what would you do for judges and chancellors8 ,cleo4 ,the study of the law is very crabbed and very tedious2 but the profession of it is as gainful1 and has great honours annexed to it3 the consequence of this is1 that few come to be eminent in it1 but men of tolerable parts and great application4 ,and whoever is a good lawyer1 and not noted for dishonesty1 is always fit to be a judge1 as soon as he is old and grave enough4 ,to be a lord chancellor1 indeed1 requires higher talents2 and he ought not only to be a good lawyer and an honest man1 but likewise a person of general knowledge and great penetration4 ,but this is but one man3 and considering what ,i have said of the law1 and the power which ambition and the love of gain have upon mankind1 it is morally impossible1 that1 in the common course of things among the practitioners in chancery1 there should not at all times be one or other fit for the seals4 ,hor4 ,must not every nation have men that are fit for public negotiations1 and persons of great capacity to serve for envoys1 ambassadors and plenipotentiaries8 must they not have others at home1 that are likewise able to treat with foreign ministers8 ,cleo4 ,that every nation must have such people1 is certain2 but ,i wonder that the company you have kept both at home and abroad1 have not convinced you that the things you speak of require no such extraordinary qualifications4 ,among the people of quality that are bred up in courts of princes1 all middling capacities must be persons of address1 and a becoming boldness1 which are the most useful talents in all conferences and negotiations4 ,hor4 ,in a nation so involved in debts of different kinds1 and loaded with such a variety of taxes as ours is1 to be thoroughly acquainted with all the funds1 and the appropriations of them1 must be a science not to be attained to without good natural parts and great application2 and therefore the chief management of the treasury must be a post of the highest trust1 as well as endless difficulty4 ,cleo4 ,i do not think so3 most branches of the public administration are in reality less difficult to those that are in them1 than they seem to be to those that are out of them1 and are strangers to them4 ,if a jack and the weights of it were out of sight1 a sensible man unacquainted with that matter1 would be very much puzzled1 if he was to account for the regular turning of two or three spits well loaded1 for hours together2 and it is ten to one1 but he would have a greater opinion of the cook or the scullion1 than either of them deserved4 ,in all business that belong to the exchequer1 the constitution does nine parts in ten2 and has taken effectual care1 that the happy person whom the king shall be pleased to favour with the superintendency of it1 should never be greatly tired or perplexed with his office2 and likewise that the trust1 the confidence that must be reposed in him1 should be very near as moderate as his trouble4 ,by dividing the employments in a great office1 and subdividing them into many parts1 every man's business may be made so plain and certain1 that1 when he is a little used to it1 it is hardly possible for him to make mistakes3 and again1 by careful limitations of every man's power1 and judicious checks upon every body's trust1 every officer's fidelity may be placed in so clear a light1 that the moment he forfeits it1 he must be detected4 ,it is by these arts that the weightiest affairs1 and a vast multiplicity of them1 may be managed with safety as well as dispatch1 by ordinary men1 whose highest good is wealth and pleasure2 and that the utmost regularity may be observed in a great office1 and every part of it2 at the same time1 that the whole economy of it seems to be intricate and perplexed to the last degree1 not only to strangers1 but the greatest part of the very officers that are employed in it4 ,hor4 ,the economy of our exchequer1 ,i own1 is an admirable contrivance to prevent frauds and encroachments of all kinds2 but in the office1 which is at the head of it1 and gives motion to it1 there is greater latitude4 ,cleo4 ,why so8 ,a lord treasurer1 or if his office be executed by commissioners1 the chancellor of the exchequer1 are no more lawless1 and have no greater power with impunity to embezzle money1 than the meanest clerk that is employed under them4 ,hor4 ,is not the king's warrant their discharge8 ,cleo4 ,yes2 for sums which the king has a right to dispose of1 or the payment of money for uses directed by parliament2 not otherwise2 and if the king1 who can do no wrong1 should be imposed upon1 and his warrant be obtained for money at random1 whether it is appropriated or not1 contrary to1 or without a direct order of the legislature1 the treasurer obeys at his peril4 ,hor4 ,but there are other posts1 or at least there is one still of higher moment1 and that requires a much greater1 and more general capacity than any yet named4 ,cleo4 ,pardon me3 as the lord chancellor's is the highest office in dignity1 so the execution of it actually demands greater1 and more uncommon abilities than any other whatever4 ,hor4 ,what say you to the prime minister who governs all1 and acts immediately under the king8 ,cleo4 ,there is no such officer belonging to our constitution2 for by this1 the whole administration is1 for very wise reasons1 divided into several branches4 ,hor4 ,but who must give orders and instructions to admirals1 generals1 governors1 and all our ministers in foreign courts8 ,who is to take care of the king's interest throughout the kingdom1 and of his safety8 ,cleo4 ,the king and his council1 without which1 royal authority is not supposed to act1 superintend1 and govern all2 and whatever the monarch has not a mind immediately to take care of himself1 falls in course to that part of the administration it belongs to1 in which every body has plain laws to walk by4 ,as to the king's interest1 it is the same with that of the nation2 his guards are to take care of his person2 and there is no business of what nature soever1 that can happen in or to the nation1 which is not within the province1 and under the inspection of some one or other of the great officers of the crown1 that are all known1 dignified1 and distinguished by their respective titles2 and amongst them1 ,i can assure you1 there is no such name as prime minister4 ,hor4 ,but why will you prevaricate with me after this manner8 ,you know yourself1 and all the world knows and sees1 that there is such a minister2 and it is easily proved1 that there always have been such ministers3 and in the situation we are1 ,i do not believe a king could do without4 ,when there are a great many disaffected people in the kingdom1 and parliament-men are to be chosen1 elections must be looked after with great care1 and a thousand things are to be done1 that are necessary to disappoint the sinister ends of malecontents1 and keep out the ,pretender2 things of which the management often requires great penetration1 and uncommon talents1 as well as secrecy and dispatch4 ,cleo4 ,how sincerely soever you may seem to speak in defence of these things1 ,horatio1 ,i am sure1 from your principles1 that you are not in earnest4 ,i am not to judge of the exigency of our affairs3 ,but as ,i would not pry into the conduct1 or scan the actions of princes1 and their ministers1 so ,i pretend to justify or defend no wisdom but that of the constitution itself4 ,hor4 ,i do not desire you should3 ,only tell me1 whether you do not think1 that a man1 who has and can carry this vast burden upon his shoulders1 and all ,europe's business in his breast1 must be a person of a prodigious genius1 as well as general knowledge1 and other great abilities4 ,cleo4 ,that a man1 invested with so much real power1 and an authority so extensive1 as such ministers generally have1 must make a great figure1 and be considerable above all other subjects1 is most certain3 ,but it is my opinion1 that there are always fifty men in the kingdom1 that1 if employed1 would be fit for this post1 and1 after a little practice1 shine in it1 to one who is equally qualified to be a ,lord ,high ,chancellor of ,great ,britain4 ,a prime minster has a vast1 an unspeakable advantage barely by being so1 and by every body's knowing him to be1 and treating him as such3 ,a man who in every office1 and every branch of it throughout the administration1 has the power1 as well as the liberty1 to ask and see whom and what he pleases1 has more knowledge within his reach1 and can speak of every thing with greater exactness than any other man1 that is much better versed in affairs1 and has ten times greater capacity4 ,it is hardly possible1 than an active man1 of tolerable education1 that is not destitute of a spirit nor of vanity1 should fail of appearing to be wise1 vigilant1 and expert1 who has the opportunity whenever he thinks fit1 to make use of all the cunning and experience1 as well as diligence and labour of every officer in the civil administration2 and if he has but money enough1 and will employ men to keep up a strict correspondence in every part of the kingdom1 he can remain ignorant of nothing2 and there is hardly any affair or transaction1 civil or military1 foreign or domestic1 which he will not be able greatly to influence1 when he has a mind either to promote or obstruct it4 ,hor4 ,there seems to be a great deal in what you say1 ,i must confess2 but ,i begin to suspect1 that what often inclines me to be of your opinion1 is your dexterity in placing things in the light you would have seen them in1 and the great skill you have in depreciating what is valuable1 and detracting from merit4 ,cleo4 ,i protest that ,i speak from my heart4 ,hor4 ,when ,i reflect on what ,i have beheld with my own eyes1 and what ,i still see every day of the transactions between statesmen and politicians1 ,i am very well assured you are in the wrong3 ,when ,i consider all the stratagems1 and the force as well as finesse that are made use of to supplant and undo prime ministers1 the wit and cunning1 industry and address1 that are employed to misrepresent all their actions1 the calumnies and false reports that are spread of them1 the ballads and lampoons that are published1 the set speeches and studied invectives that are made against them2 when ,i consider1 ,i say1 and reflect on these things1 and every thing else that is said and done1 either to ridicule or to render them odious1 ,i am convinced1 that to defeat so much art and strength1 and disappoint so much malice and envy as prime ministers are generally attacked with1 require extraordinary talents3 ,no man of only common prudence and fortitude could maintain himself in that post for a twelvemonth1 much less for many years together1 though he understood the world very well1 and had all the virtue1 faithfulness1 and integrity in it2 therefore1 there must be some fallacy in your assertion4 ,cleo4 ,either ,i have been deficient in explaining myself or else ,i have had the misfortune to be misunderstood4 ,when ,i insinuated that men might be prime ministers without extraordinary endowments1 ,i spoke only in regard to the business itself1 that province1 which1 if there was no such minister1 the king and council would have the trouble of managing4 ,hor4 ,to direct and manage the whole machine of government1 he must be a consummate statesman in the first place4 ,cleo4 ,you have too sublime a notion of that post4 ,to be a consummate statesman1 is the highest qualification human nature is capable of possessing4 ,to deserve that name1 a man must be well versed in ancient and modern history1 and thoroughly acquainted with all the courts of ,europe1 that he may know not only the public interest in every nation1 but likewise the private views1 as well as inclinations1 virtues1 and vices of princes and ministers3 ,of every country in ,christendom1 and the borders of it1 he ought to know the product and geography1 the principal cities and fortresses2 and of these their trade and manufactures1 their situation1 natural advantages1 strength1 and number of inhabitants2 he must have read men as well as books1 and perfectly well understand human nature1 and the use of the passions3 ,he must1 moreover1 be a great master in concealing the sentiments of his heart1 have an entire command over his features1 and be well skilled in all the wiles and stratagems to draw out secrets from others4 ,a man1 of whom all this1 or the greatest part of it1 may not be said with truth1 and that he has had great experience in public affairs1 cannot be called a consummate statesman2 but he may be fit to be a prime minister1 though he had not a hundredth part of those qualifications4 ,as the king's favour creates prime ministers1 and makes their station the post of the greatest power as well as profit1 so the same favour is the only bottom which those that are in it have to stand upon3 ,the consequence is1 that the most ambitious men in all monarchies are ever contending for this post as the highest prize1 of which the enjoyment is easy1 and all the difficulty in obtaining and preserving it4 ,we see accordingly1 that the accomplishments ,i spoke of to make a statesman are neglected1 and others aimed at and studied1 that are more useful and more easily acquired4 ,the capacities you observe in prime ministers are of another nature1 and consist in being finished courtiers1 and thoroughly understanding the art of pleasing and cajoling with address4 ,to procure a prince what he wants1 when it is known1 and to be diligent in entertaining him with the pleasures he calls for1 are ordinary services3 ,asking is no better than complaining2 therefore1 being forced to ask1 is to have cause of complaint1 and to see a prince submit to the slavery of it1 argues great rusticity in his courtiers2 a polite minister penetrates into his master's wishes1 and furnishes him with what he delights in1 without giving him the trouble to name it4 ,every common flatterer can praise and extol promiscuously every thing that is said or done1 and find wisdom and prudence in the most indifferent actions2 but it belongs to the skilful courtier to set fine glosses upon manifest imperfections1 and make every failing1 every frailty of his prince1 have the real appearance of the virtues that are the nearest1 or1 to speak more justly1 the least opposite to them4 ,by the observance of these necessary duties1 it is that the favour of princes may be long preserved1 as well as obtained4 ,whoever can make himself agreeable at a court1 will seldom fail of being thought necessary2 and when a favourite has once established himself in the good opinion of his master1 it is easy for him to make his own family engross the king's ear1 and keep every body from him but his own creatures3 ,nor is it more difficult1 in length of time1 to turn out of the administration every body that was not of his own bringing in1 and constantly be tripping up the heels of those who attempt to raise themselves by any other interest or assistance4 ,a prime minister has by his place great advantages over all that oppose him2 one of them is1 that nobody1 without exception1 ever filled that post but who had many enemies1 whether he was a plunderer or a patriot3 ,which being well known1 many things that are laid to a prime minister's charge are not credited among the impartial and more discreet part of mankind1 even when they are true4 ,as to the defeating and disappointing all the envy and malice they are generally attacked with1 if the favourite was to do all that himself1 it would certainly1 as you say1 require extraordinary talents and a great capacity1 as well as continual vigilance and application2 but this is the province of their creatures1 a task divided into a great number of parts2 and every body that has the least dependence upon1 or has any thing to hope from the minister1 makes it his business and his study1 as it is his interest1 on the one hand1 to cry up their patron1 magnify his virtues and abilities1 and justify his conduct2 on the other1 to exclaim against his adversaries1 blacken their reputation1 and play at them every engine1 and the same stratagems that are made use of to supplant the minister4 ,hor4 ,then every well-polished courtier is fit to be a prime minister1 without learning or languages1 skill in politics1 or any other qualification besides4 ,cleo4 ,no other than what are often and easily met with3 ,it is necessary that he should be a man1 at least1 of plain common sense1 and not remarkable for any gross frailties or imperfections2 and of such1 there is no scarcity almost in any nation3 ,he ought to be a man of tolerable health and constitution1 and one who delights in vanity1 that he may relish1 as well as be able to bear the gaudy crowds that honour his levees1 the constant addresses1 bows1 and cringes of solicitors1 and the rest of the homage that is perpetually paid him4 ,the accomplishment he stands most in need of1 is to be bold and resolute1 so as not to be easily shocked or ruffled2 if he be thus qualified1 has a good memory1 and is1 moreover1 able to attend a multiplicity of business1 if not with a continual presence of mind1 at least seemingly without hurry or perplexity1 his capacity can never fail of being extolled to the skies4 ,hor4 ,you say nothing of his virtue nor his honesty2 there is a vast trust put in a prime minister3 ,if he should be covetous1 and have no probity1 nor love for his country1 he might make strange havoc with the public treasure4 ,cleo4 ,there is no man that has any pride1 but he has some value for his reputation2 and common prudence is sufficient to hinder a man of very indifferent principles from stealing1 where he would be in great danger of being detected1 and has no manner of security that he shall not be punished for it4 ,hor4 ,but great confidence is reposed in him where he cannot be traced2 as in the money for secret services1 of which1 for reasons of state1 it may be often improper even to mention1 much more to scrutinize into the particulars2 and in negotiations with other courts1 should he be only swayed by selfishness and private views1 without regard to virtue of the public1 is it not in his power to betray his country1 sell the nation1 and do all manner of mischief8 ,cleo4 ,not amongst us1 where parliaments are every year sitting4 ,in foreign affairs nothing of moment can be transacted but what all the world must know2 and should any thing be done or attempted that would be palpably ruinous to the kingdom1 and in the opinion of natives and foreigners grossly and manifestly clashing with our interest1 it would raise a general clamour1 and throw the minister into dangers1 which no man of the least prudence1 who intends to stay in his country1 would ever run into4 ,as to the money for secret services1 and perhaps other sums1 which ministers have the disposal of1 and where they have great latitudes1 ,i do not question but they have opportunities of embezzling the nation's treasure3 but to do this without being discovered1 it must be done sparingly1 and with great discretion3 ,the malicious overlookers that envy them their places1 and watch all their motions1 are a great awe upon them3 the animosities between those antagonists1 and the quarrels between parties1 are a considerable part of the nation's security4 ,hor4 ,but would it not be a greater security to have men of honour1 of sense and knowledge1 of application and frugality1 preferred to public employments8 ,cleo4 ,yes1 without doubt4 ,hor4 ,what confidence can we have in the justice or integrity of men2 that1 on the one hand1 show themselves on all occasions mercenary and greedy after riches2 and on the other1 make it evident1 by their manner of living1 that no wealth or estate could ever suffice to support their expences1 or satisfy their desires6 besides1 would it not be a great encouragement to virtue and merit1 if from the posts of honour and profit all were to be debarred and excluded1 that either wanted capacity or were enemies to business2 all the selfish1 ambitious1 vain1 and voluptuous8 ,cleo4 ,nobody disputes it with you2 and if virtue1 religion1 and future happiness were sought after by the generality of mankind1 with the same solicitude1 as sensual pleasure1 politeness1 and worldly glory are1 it would certainly be best that none but men of good lives1 and known ability1 should have any place in the government whatever3 but to expert that this ever should happen1 or to live in hopes of it in a large1 opulent1 and flourishing kingdom1 is to betray great ignorance in human affairs8 and whoever reckons a general temperance1 frugality1 and disinterestedness among the national blessings1 and at the same time solicits ,heaven for ease and plenty1 and the increase of trade1 seems to me1 little to understand what he is about4 ,the best of all1 then1 not being to be had1 let us look out for the next best1 and we shall find1 that of all possible means to secure and perpetuate to nations their establishment1 and whatever they value1 there is no better method than with wise laws to guard and entrench their constitution1 and contrive such forms of administration that the commonweal can receive no great detriment from the want of knowledge or probity of ministers1 if any of them should prove less able or honest1 than they could wish them4 ,the public administration must always go forward2 it is a ship that can never lie at anchor3 the most knowing1 the most virtuous1 and the least self-interested ministers are the best2 but1 in the mean time there must be ministers4 ,swearing and drunkenness are crying sins among seafaring men1 and ,i should think it a very desirable blessing to the nation1 if it was possible to reform them3 but all this while we must have sailors2 and if none were to be admitted on board of any of his majesty's ships1 that had sworn above a thousand oaths1 or had been drunk above ten times in their lives1 ,i am persuaded that the service would suffer very much by the well-meaning regulation4 ,hor4 ,why do not you speak more openly1 and say that there is no virtue or probity in the world8 for all the drift of your discourse is tending to prove that4 ,cleo4 ,i have amply declared myself upon this subject already in a former conversation2 and ,i wonder you will lay again to my charge what ,i once absolutely denied3 ,i never thought that there were no virtuous or religious men2 what ,i differ in with the flatterers of our species1 is about the numbers which they contend for2 and ,i am persuaded that you yourself1 in reality1 do not believe that there are so many virtuous men as you imagine you do4 ,hor4 ,how come you to know my thoughts better than ,i do myself8 ,cleo4 ,you know ,i have tried you upon this head already1 when ,i ludicrously extolled and set a fine gloss on the merit of several callings and professions in the society1 from the lowest stations of life to the highest3 it then plainly appeared1 that1 though you have a very high opinion of mankind in general1 when we come to particulars1 you was as severe1 and every whit as censorious as myself4 ,i must observe one thing to you1 which is worth consideration4 ,most1 if not all people1 are desirous of being thought impartial2 yet nothing is more difficult than to preserve our judgment unbiassed1 when we are influenced either by our love or our hatred2 and how just and equitable soever people are1 we see that their friends are seldom so good1 or their enemies so bad as they represent them1 when they are angry with the one1 or highly pleased with the other4 ,for my part1 ,i do not think that1 generally speaking1 prime ministers are much worse than their adversaries1 who for their own interest defame them1 and at the same time1 move ,heaven and earth to be in their places4 ,let us look out for two persons of eminence in any court of ,europe1 that are equal in merit and capacity1 and as well matched in virtues and vices1 but of contrary parties2 and whenever we meet with two such1 one in favour and the other neglected1 we shall always find that whoever is uppermost1 and in great employ1 has the applause of his party2 and if things go tolerably well1 his friends will attribute every good success to his conduct1 and derive all his actions from laudable motives3 the opposite side can discover no virtues in him2 they will not allow him to act from any principles but his passions2 and if any thing be done amiss1 are very sure that it would not have happened if their patron had been in the same post4 ,this is the way of the world4 ,how immensely do often people of the same kingdom differ in the opinion they have of their chiefs and commanders1 even when they are successful to admiration6 we have been witnesses ourselves that one part of the nation has ascribed the victories of a general entirely to his consummate knowledge in martial affairs1 and superlative capacity in action2 and maintained that it was impossible for a man to bear all the toils and fatigues he underwent with alacrity1 or to court the dangers he voluntarily exposed himself to1 if he had not been supported1 as well as animated1 by the true spirit of heroism1 and a most generous love for his country3 these1 you know1 were the sentiments of one part of the nation1 whilst the other attributed all his successes to the bravery of his troops1 and the extraordinary care that was taken at home to supply his army2 and insisted upon it1 that from the whole course of his life1 it was demonstrable1 that he had never been buoyed up or actuated by any other principles than excess of ambition1 and an unsatiable greediness after riches4 ,hor4 ,i do not know but ,i may have said so myself4 ,but after all1 the ,duke of ,marlborough was a very great man1 an extraordinary genius4 ,cleo4 ,indeed was he1 and ,i am glad to hear you own it at last4 ,virtutem incolumem odimus1 ,sublatum ex oculis qurimus invidi4 ,hor4 ,a propos4 ,i wish you would bid them stop for two or three minutes3 some of the horses perhaps may stale the while4 ,cleo4 ,no excuses1 pray4 ,you command here4 ,besides1 we have time enough4----,do you want to go out8 ,hor4 ,no2 but ,i want to set down something1 now ,i think of it1 which ,i have heard you repeat several times4 ,i have often had a mind to ask you for it1 and it always went out of my head again4 ,it is the epitaph which your friend made upon the ,duke4 ,cleo4 ,of ,marlborough8 with all my heart4 ,have you paper8 ,hor4 ,i will write it upon the back of this letter2 and as it happens1 ,i mended my pencil this morning4 ,how does it begin8 ,cleo4 ,qui belli1 aut paucis virtutibus astra petebant4 ,hor4 ,well4 ,cleo4 ,finxerunt homines scula prisca ,deos4 ,hor4 ,i have it4 ,but tell me a whole distich at a time2 the sense is clearer4 ,cleo4 ,quae martem sine patre tulit1 sine matre ,minervam1 ,illustres mendax ,grcia jactet avos4 ,hor4 ,that is really a happy thought4 ,courage and conduct3 just the two qualifications he excelled in4 ,what is the next8 ,cleo4 ,anglia quem genuit jacet hac1 ,homo1 conditus ,urna1 ,antiqui1 qualem non habuere ,deum4 ,hor4----,i thank you4 ,they may go on now4 ,i have seen several things since first ,i heard this epitaph of you1 that are manifestly borrowed from it4 ,was it never published8 ,cleo4 ,i believe not4 ,the first time ,i saw it was the day the ,duke was buried1 and ever since it has been handed about in manuscript2 but ,i never met with it in print yet4 ,hor4 ,it is worth all his ,fable of the ,bees1 in my opinion4 ,cleo4 ,if you like it so well1 ,i can show you a translation of it1 lately done by a gentleman of ,oxford1 if ,i have not lost it4 ,it only takes in the first and last distich1 which indeed contain the main thought3 ,the second does not carry it on1 and is rather a digression4 ,hor4 ,but it demonstrates the truth of the first in a very convincing manner2 and that ,mars had no father1 and ,minerva no mother1 is the most fortunate thing a man could wish for1 who wanted to prove that the account we have of them is fabulous4 ,cleo4 ,oh1 here it is4 ,i do not know whether you can read it2 ,i copied it in haste4 ,hor4 ,very well4 ,the grateful ages past a ,god declar'd1 ,who wisely council'd1 or who bravely war'd3 ,hence ,greece her ,mars and ,pallas deify'd2 ,made him the heroe's1 her the patriot's guide4 ,ancients1 within this urn a mortal lies ,shew me his peer among your deities4 ,it is very good4 ,cleo4 ,very lively2 and what is aimed at in the ,latin1 is rather more clearly expressed in the ,english4 ,hor4 ,you know ,i am fond of no ,english verse but ,milton's4 ,but do not let this hinder our conversation4 ,cleo4 ,i was speaking of the partiality of mankind in general1 and putting you in mind how differently men judged of actions1 according as they liked or disliked the persons that performed them4 ,hor4 ,but before that you was arguing against the necessity1 which ,i think there is1 for men of great accomplishments and extraordinary qualifications in the administration of public affairs4 ,had you any thing to add8 ,cleo4 ,no2 at least ,i do not remember that ,i had4 ,hor4 ,i do not believe you have an ill design in advancing these notions2 but supposing them to be true1 ,i cannot comprehend that divulging them can have any other effect than the increase of sloth and ignorance2 for if men may fill the highest places in the government without learning or capacity1 genius or knowledge1 there is an end of all the labour of the brain1 and the fatigue of hard study4 ,cleo4 ,i have made no such general assertion2 but that an artful man may make a considerable figure in the highest post of the administration1 and other great employments1 without extraordinary talents1 is certain3 as to consummate statesmen1 ,i do not believe there ever were three persons upon earth at the same time1 that deserved that name4 ,there is not a quarter of the wisdom1 solid knowledge1 or intrinsic worth in the world that men talk of and compliment one another with2 and of virtue or religion there is not an hundredth part in reality of what there is in appearance4 ,hor4 ,i allow that those who set out from no better motives1 than avarice and ambition1 aim at no other ends but wealth and honour2 which1 if they can but get anywise they are satisfied2 but men who act from principles of virtue and a public spirit1 take pains with alacrity to attain the accomplishments that will make them capable of serving their country3 and if virtue be so scarce1 how come there to be men of skill in their professions8 for that there are men of learning and men of capacity1 is most certain4 ,cleo4 ,the foundation of all accomplishments must be laid in our youth1 before we are able or allowed to choose for ourselves1 or to judge1 which is the most profitable way of employing our time4 ,it is to good discipline1 and the prudent care of parents and masters1 that men are beholden for the greatest part of their improvements2 and few parents are so bad as not to wish their offspring might be well accomplished3 the same natural affection that makes men take pains to leave their children rich1 renders them solicitous about their education4 ,besides1 it is unfashionable1 and consequently a disgrace to neglect them4 ,the chief design of parents in bringing up their children to a calling or profession1 is to procure them a livelihood4 ,what promotes and encourages arts and sciences1 is the reward1 money and honour2 and thousands of perfections are attained to1 that would have had no existence1 if men had been less proud or less covetous4 ,ambition1 avarice1 and often necessity1 are great spurs to industry and application2 and often rouse men from sloth and indolence1 when they are grown up1 whom no persuasions or chastisement of fathers or tutors1 made any impression upon in their youth4 ,whilst professions are lucrative1 and have great dignities belonging to them1 there will always be men that excel in them4 ,in a large polite nation1 therefore1 all sorts of learning will ever abound1 whilst the people flourish4 ,rich parents1 and such as can afford it1 seldom fail bringing up their children to literature3 from this inexhaustible spring it is1 that we always draw much larger supplies than we stand in need of1 for all the callings and professions where the knowledge of the learned languages is required4 ,of those that are brought up to letters1 some neglect them1 and throw by their books as soon as they are their own masters2 others grow fonder of study1 as they increase in years2 but the greatest part will always retain a value for what has cost them pains to acquire4 ,among the wealthy1 there will be always lovers of knowledge1 as well as idle people3 every science will have its admirers1 as men differ in their tastes and pleasures2 and there is no part of learning but somebody or other will look into it1 and labour at it1 from no better principles than some men are fox hunters1 and others take delight in angling4 ,look upon the mighty labours of antiquaries1 botanists1 and the vertuosos in butterflies1 cockle-shells1 and other odd productions of nature2 and mind the magnificent terms they all make use of in their respective provinces1 and the pompous names they often give to what others1 who have no taste that way1 would not think worth any mortal's notice4 ,curiosity is often as bewitching to the rich1 as lucre is to the poor2 and what interest does in some1 vanity does in others2 and great wonders are often produced from a happy mixture of both4 ,is it not amazing1 that a temperate man should be at the expence of four or five thousand a-year1 or1 which is much the same thing1 be contented to lose the interest of above a hundred thousand pounds1 to have the reputation of being the possessor and owner of rarities and knicknacks in a very great abundance1 at the same time that he loves money1 and continues slaving for it in his old age6 ,it is the hopes either of gain or reputation1 of large revenues and great dignities that promote learning2 and when we say that any calling1 art or science1 is not encouraged1 we mean no more by it1 than that the masters or professors of it are not sufficiently rewarded for their pains1 either with honour or profit4 ,the most holy functions are no exception to what ,i say2 and few ministers of the gospel are so disinterested as to have a less regard to the honours and emoluments that are or ought to be annexed to their employment1 than they have to the service and benefit they should be of to others2 and among those of them that study hard and take uncommon pains1 it is not easily proved that many are excited to their extraordinary labour by a public spirit or solicitude for the spiritual welfare of the laity3 on the contrary1 it is visible1 in the greatest part of them1 that they are animated by the love of glory and the hopes of preferment2 neither is it common to see the most useful parts of learning neglected for the most trifling1 when1 from the latter1 men have reason to hope that they shall have greater opportunities of showing their parts1 than offer themselves from the former4 ,ostentation and envy have made more authors than virtue and benevolence4 ,men of known capacity and erudition are often labouring hard to eclipse and ruin one another's glory4 ,what principle must we say two adversaries act from1 both men of unquestionable good sense and extensive knowledge1 when all the skill and prudence they are masters of are not able to stifle1 in their studied performances1 and hide from the world1 the rancour of their minds1 the spleen and animosity they both write with against one another4 ,hor4 ,i do not say that such act from principles of virtue4 ,cleo4 ,yet you know an instance of this in two grave divines1 men of fame and great merit1 of whom each would think himself very much injured1 should his virtue be called in question4 ,hor4 ,when men have an opportunity1 under pretence of zeal for religion1 or the public good1 to vent their passion1 they take great liberties4 ,what was the quarrel8 ,cleo4 ,de lana caprina4 ,hor4 ,a trifle4 ,i cannot guess yet4 ,cleo4 ,about the metre of the comic poets among the ancients4 ,hor4 ,i know what you mean now2 the manner of scanding and chanting those verses4 ,cleo4 ,can you think of any thing belonging to literature1 of less importance1 or more useless8 ,hor4 ,not readily4 ,cleo4 ,yet the great contest between them1 you see1 is which of them understands it best1 and has known it the longest4 ,this instance1 ,i think1 hints to us how highly improbable it is1 though men should act from no better principles than envy1 avarice1 and ambition1 that when learning is once established1 any part of it1 even the most unprofitable1 should ever be neglected in such a large opulent nation as ours is2 where there are so many places of honour1 and great revenues to be disposed of among scholars4 ,hor4 ,but since men are fit to serve in most places with so little capacity1 as you insinuate1 why should they give themselves that unnecessary trouble of studying hard1 and acquiring more learning than there is occasion for8 ,cleo4 ,i thought ,i had answered that already2 a great many1 because they take delight in study and knowledge4 ,hor4 ,but there are men that labour at it with so much application1 as to impair their healths1 and actually to kill themselves with the fatigue of it4 ,cleo4 ,not so many as there are that injure their healths1 and actually kill themselves with hard drinking1 which is the most unreasonable pleasure of the two1 and a much greater fatigue4 ,but ,i do not deny that there are men who take pains to qualify themselves in order to serve their country2 what ,i insist upon is1 that the number of those who do the same thing to serve themselves with little regard to their country1 is infinitely greater4 ,mr4 ,hutcheson1 who wrote the ,inquiry into the ,original of our ,ideas of ,beauty and ,virtue1 seems to be very expert at weighing and measuring the quantities of affection1 benevolence1 c4 ,i wish that curious metaphysician would give himself the trouble1 at his leisure1 to weigh two things separately3 ,first1 the real love men have for their country1 abstracted from selfishness4 ,secondly1 the ambition they have of being thought to act from that love1 though they feel none4 ,i wish1 ,i say1 that this ingenious gentleman would once weigh these two asunder2 and afterwards1 having taken in impartially all he could find of either1 in this or any other nation1 show us in his demonstrative way1 what proportion the quantities bore to each other4--,quisque sibi commissus est1 says ,seneca2 and certainly1 it is not the care of others1 but the care of itself1 which nature has trusted and charged every individual creature with4 ,when men exert themselves in an extraordinary manner1 they generally do it to be the better for it themselves2 to excel1 to be talked of1 and to be preferred to others1 that follow the same business1 or court the same favours4 ,hor4 ,do you think it more probable1 that men of parts and learning should be preferred1 than others of less capacity8 ,cleo4 ,cteris paribus1 ,i do4 ,hor4 ,then you must allow that there is virtue at least in those who have the disposal of places4 ,cleo4 ,i do not say there is not2 but there is likewise glory and real honour accruing to patrons for advancing men of merit2 and if a person who has a good living in his gift1 bestows it upon a very able man1 every body applauds him1 and every parishioner is counted to be particularly obliged to him4 ,a vain man does not love to have his choice disapproved of1 and exclaimed against by all the world1 any more than a virtuous man2 and the love of applause1 which is innate to our species1 would alone be sufficient to make the generality of men1 and even the greatest part of the most vicious1 always choose the most worthy1 out of any number of candidates2 if they knew the truth1 and no stronger motive arising from consanguinity1 friendship1 interest1 or something else1 was to interfere with the principle ,i named4 ,hor4 ,but1 methinks1 according to your system1 those should be soonest preferred that can best coax and flatter4 ,cleo4 ,among the learned there are persons of art and address1 that can mind their studies without neglecting the the world3 these are the men that know how to ingratiate themselves with persons of quality2 employing to the best advantage all their parts and industry for that purpose4 ,do but look into the lives and the deportment of such eminent men1 as we have been speaking of1 and you will soon discover the end and advantages they seem to propose to themselves from their hard study and severe lucubrations4 ,when you see men in holy orders1 without call or necessity1 hovering about the courts of princes2 when you see them continually addressing and scraping acquaintance with the favourites2 when you hear them exclaim against the luxury of the age1 and complain of the necessity they are under of complying with it2 and at the same time you see1 that they are forward1 nay eager and take pains with satisfaction1 in the way of living1 to imitate the beau monde1 as far as it is in their power3 that no sooner they are in possession of one preferment1 but they are ready1 and actually soliciting for another1 more gainful and more reputable2 and that on all emergencies1 wealth1 power1 honour and superiority are the things they grasp at1 and take delight in2 when1 ,i say1 you see these things1 this concurrence of evidences1 is it any longer difficult to guess at1 or rather is there room to doubt of the principles they act from1 or the tendency of their labours8 ,hor4 ,i have little to say to priests1 and do not look for virtue from that quarter4 ,cleo4 ,yet you will find as much of it among divines1 as you will among any other class of men2 but every where less in reality1 than there is in appearance4 ,nobody would be thought insincere1 or to prevaricate2 but there are few men1 though they are so honest as to own what they would have1 that will acquaint us with the true reason why they would have it3 therefore the disagreement between the words and actions of men is at no time more conspicuous1 than when we would learn from them their sentiments1 concerning the real worth of things4 ,virtue1 is without doubt1 the most valuable treasure which man can be possessed of2 it has every body's good word2 but where is the country in which it is heartily embraced1 prmia si tollas8 ,money1 on the other hand1 is deservedly called the root of all evil3 there has not been a moralist nor a satirist of note1 that has not had a fling at it2 yet what pains are taken1 and what hazards are run to acquire it1 under various pretences of designing to do good with it6 ,as for my part1 ,i verily believe1 that as an accessary cause1 it has done more mischief in the world than any one thing besides3 yet it is impossible to name another1 that is so absolutely necessary to the order1 economy1 and the very existence of the civil society2 for as this is entirely built upon the variety of our wants1 so the whole superstructure is made up of the reciprocal services which men do to each other4 ,how to get these services performed by others1 when we have occasion for them1 is the grand and almost constant solicitude in life of every individual person4 ,to expect that others should serve us for nothing1 is unreasonable2 therefore all commerce that men can have together1 must be a continual bartering of one thing for another4 ,the feller who transfers the property of a thing1 has his own interest as much at heart as the buyer who purchases that property3 and1 if you want or like a thing1 the owner of it1 whatever stock or provision he may have of the same1 or how greatly soever you may stand in need of it1 will never part with it1 but for a consideration which he likes better than he does the thing you want4 ,which way shall ,i persuade a man to serve me1 when the service ,i can repay him in1 is such as he does not want or care for8 ,nobody who is at peace1 and has no contention with any of the society1 will do any thing for a lawyer2 and a physician can purchase nothing of a man1 whose whole family is in perfect health4 ,money obviates and takes away all those difficulties1 by being an acceptable reward for all the services men can do to one another4 ,hor4 ,but all men valuing themselves above their worth1 every body will over-rate his labour4 ,would not this follow from your system8 ,cleo4 ,it certainly would1 and does4 ,but what is to be admired is1 that the larger the numbers are in a society1 the more extensive they have rendered the variety of their desires1 and the more operose the gratification of them is become among them by custom2 the less mischievous is the consequence of that evil1 where they have the use of money3 whereas1 without it1 the smaller the number was of a society1 and the more strictly the members of it1 in supplying their wants1 would confine themselves to those only that were necessary for their subsistence1 the more easy it would be for them to agree about the reciprocal services ,i spoke of4 ,but to procure all the comforts of life1 and what is called temporal happiness1 in a large polite nation1 would be every whit as practicable without speech1 as it would be without money1 or an equivalent to be used instead of it4 ,where this is not wanting1 and due care is taken of it by the legislature1 it will always be the standard1 which the worth of every thing will be weighed by4 ,there are great blessings that arise from necessity2 and that every body is obliged to eat and drink1 is the cement of civil society4 ,let men set what high value they please upon themselves1 that labour which most people are capable of doing1 will ever be the cheapest4 ,nothing can be dear of which there is great plenty1 how beneficial soever it may be to man2 and scarcity enhances the price of things much oftener than the usefulness of them4 ,hence it is evident why those arts and sciences will always be the most lucrative1 that cannot be attained to1 but in great length of time1 by tedious study and close application2 or else require a particular genius1 not often to be met with4 ,it is likewise evident1 to whose lot1 in all societies1 the hard and dirty labour1 which nobody would meddle with1 if he could help it1 will ever fall3 but you have seen enough of this in the ,fable of the ,bees4 ,hor4 ,i have so1 and one remarkable saying ,i have read there on this subject1 which ,i shall never forget4 ,the poor1 says the author1 have nothing to stir them up to labour1 but their wants1 which it is wisdom to relieve1 but folly to cure4 ,cleo4 ,i believe the maxim to be just1 and that it is not less calculated for the real advantage of the poor1 than it appears to be for the benefit of the rich4 ,for1 among the labouring people1 those will ever be the least wretched as to themselves1 as well as most useful to the public1 that being meanly born and bred1 submit to the station they are in with cheerfulness2 and contented1 that their children should succeed them in the same low condition1 inure them from their infancy to labour and submission1 as well as the cheapest diet and apparel2 when1 on the contrary1 that sort of them will always be the least serviceable to others1 and themselves the most unhappy1 who1 dissatisfied with their labour1 are always grumbling and repining at the meanness of their condition2 and1 under pretence of having a great regard for the welfare of their children1 recommend the education of them to the charity of others2 and you shall always find1 that of this latter class of poor1 the greatest part are idle sottish people1 that1 leading dissolute lives themselves1 are neglectful to their families1 and only want1 as far as it is in their power1 to shake off that burden of providing for their brats from their own shoulders4 ,hor4 ,i am no advocate for charity schools2 yet ,i think it is barbarous1 that the children of the labouring poor1 should be for ever pinned down1 they1 and all their posterity1 to that slavish condition2 and that those who are meanly born1 what parts or genius soever they might be of1 should be hindered and debarred from raising themselves higher4 ,cleo4 ,so should ,i think it barbarous1 if what you speak of was done any where1 or proposed to be done4 ,but there is no degree of men in ,christendom that are pinned down1 they and their posterity1 to slavery for ever4 ,among the very lowest sort1 there are fortunate men in every country2 and we daily see persons1 that without education1 or friends1 by their own industry and application1 raise themselves from nothing to mediocrity1 and sometimes above it1 if once they come rightly to love money and take delight in saving it3 and this happens more often to people of common and mean capacities1 than it does to those of brighter parts4 ,but there is a prodigious difference between debarring the children of the poor from ever rising higher in the world1 and refusing to force education upon thousands of them promiscuously1 when they should be more usefully employed4 ,as some of the rich must come to be poor1 so some of the poor will come to be rich in the common course of things4 ,but that universal benevolence1 that should every where industriously lift up the indigent labourer from his meanness1 would not be less injurious to the whole kingdom than a tyrannical power1 that should1 without a cause1 cast down the wealthy from their ease and affluence4 ,let us suppose1 that the hard and dirty labour throughout the nation requires three millions of hands1 and that every branch of it is performed by the children of the poor4 ,illiterate1 and such as had little or no education themselves2 it is evident1 that if a tenth part of these children1 by force and design1 were to be exempt from the lowest drudgery1 either there must be so much work left undone1 as would demand three hundred thousand people2 or the defect1 occasioned by the numbers taken off1 must be supplied by the children of others1 that had been better bred4 ,hor4 ,so that what is done at first out of charity to some1 may1 at long run1 prove to be cruelty to others4 ,cleo4 ,and will depend upon it4 ,in the compound of all nations1 the different degrees of men ought to bear a certain proportion to each other1 as to numbers1 in order to render the whole a well proportioned mixture4 ,and as this due proportion is the result and natural consequence of the difference there is in the qualifications of men1 and the vicissitudes that happen among them1 so it is never better attained to1 or preserved1 than when nobody meddles with it4 ,hence we may learn1 how the short-sighted wisdom of perhaps well-meaning people1 may rob us of a felicity that would flow spontaneously from the nature of every large society1 if none were to divert or interrupt the stream4 ,hor4 ,i do not care to enter into these abstruse matters2 what have you further to say in praise of money8 ,cleo4 ,i have no design to speak either for or against it2 but be it good or bad1 the power and dominion of it are both of vast extent1 and the influence of it upon mankind has never been stronger or more general in any empire1 state1 or kingdom1 than in the most knowing and politest ages1 when they were in their greatest grandeur and prosperity2 and when arts and sciences were the most flourishing in them3 ,therefore1 the invention of money seems to me to be a thing more skilfully adapted to the whole bent of our nature1 than any other or human contrivance4 ,there is no greater remedy against sloth or stubbornness2 and with astonishment ,i have beheld the readiness and alacrity with which it often makes the proudest men pay homage to their inferiors3 ,it purchases all services1 and cancels all debts2 nay1 it does more1 for when a person is employed in his occupation1 and he who sets him to work1 a good paymaster1 how laborious1 how difficult or irksome soever the service be1 the obligation is always reckoned to lie upon him who performs it4 ,hor4 ,do not you think1 that many eminent men in the learned professions would dissent from you in this8 ,cleo4 ,i know very well1 that none ought to do it1 if ever they courted business1 or hunted after employment4 ,hor4 ,all you have said is true among mercenary people2 but upon noble minds that despise lucre1 honour has far greater efficacy than money4 ,cleo4 ,the highest titles1 and the most illustrious births1 are no security against covetousness2 and persons of the first quality1 that are actually generous and munificent are often as greedy after gain1 when it is worth their while1 as the most sordid mechanics are for trifles3 ,the year twenty has taught us1 how difficult it is to find out those noble minds that despise lucre1 when there is a prospect of getting vastly4 ,besides1 nothing is more universally charming than money2 it suits with every station1 the high1 the low1 the wealthy1 and the poor3 whereas1 honour has little influence on the mean1 slaving people1 and rarely affects any of the vulgar2 but if it does1 money will almost every where purchase honour2 nay1 riches of themselves are an honour to all those who know how to use them fashionably4 ,honour1 on the contrary1 wants riches for its support2 without them it is a dead weight that oppresses its owner2 and titles of honour1 joined to a necessitous condition1 are a greater burden together than the same degree of poverty is alone3 for the higher a man's quality is1 the more considerable are his wants in life2 but the more money he has1 the better he is able to supply the greatest extravagancy of them4 ,lucre is the best restorative in the world1 in a literal sense1 and works upon the spirits mechanically2 for it is not only a spur that excites men to labour1 and makes them in love with it1 but it likewise gives relief in weariness1 and actually supports men in all fatigues and difficulties4 ,a labourer of any sort1 who is paid in proportion to his diligence1 can do more work than another who is paid by the day or the week1 and has standing wages4 ,hor4 ,do not you think1 then1 that there are men in laborious offices1 who1 for a fixed salary1 discharge their duties with diligence and assiduity8 ,cleo4 ,yes1 many2 but there is no place or employment in which there are required or expected1 that continual attendance and uncommon severity of application1 that some men harass and punish themselves with by choice1 when every fresh trouble meets with a new recompence2 and you never saw men so entirely devote themselves to their calling1 and pursue business with that eagerness1 dispatch1 and perseverance in any office of preferment1 in which the yearly income is certain and unalterable1 as they often do in those professions where the reward continually accompanies the labour1 and the fee immediately either precedes the service they do to others1 as it is with the lawyers1 or follows it1 as it is with the physicians4 ,i am sure you have hinted at this in our first conversation yourself4 ,hor4 ,here is the castle before us4 ,cleo4 ,which ,i suppose you are not sorry for4 ,hor4 ,indeed ,i am1 and would have been glad to have heard you speak of kings and other sovereigns with the same candour1 as well as freedom1 with which you have treated prime ministers1 and their envious adversaries4 ,when ,i see a man entirely impartial1 ,i shall always do him that justice1 as to think1 that if he is not in the right in what he says1 at least he aims at truth4 ,the more ,i examine your sentiments1 by what ,i see in the world1 the more ,i am obliged to come into them2 and all this morning ,i have said nothing in opposition to you1 but to be better informed1 and to give you an opportunity to explain yourself more amply4 ,i am your convert1 and shall henceforth look upon the ,fable of the ,bees very differently from what ,i did2 for though1 in the ,characteristics1 the language and the diction are better1 the system of man's sociableness is more lovely and more plausible1 and things are set off with more art and learning2 yet in the other there is certainly more truth1 and nature is more faithfully copied in it almost every where4 ,cleo4 ,i wish you would read them both once more1 and1 after that1 ,i believe you will say that you never saw two authors who seem to have wrote with more different views4 ,my friend1 the author of the ,fable1 to engage and keep his readers in good humour1 seems to be very merry1 and to do something else1 whilst he detects the corruption of our nature2 and having shown man to himself in various lights1 he points indirectly at the necessity1 not only of revelation and believing1 but likewise of the practice of ,christianity manifestly to be seen in mens lives4 ,hor4 ,i have not observed that3 ,which way has he done it indirectly8 ,cleo4 ,by exposing1 on the one hand1 the vanity of the world1 and the most polite enjoyments of it2 and1 on the other1 the insufficiency of human reason and heathen virtue to procure real felicity3 for ,i cannot see what other meaning a man could have by doing this in a ,christian country1 and among people that all pretend to seek after happiness4 ,hor4 ,and what say you of ,lord ,shaftsbury8 ,cleo4 ,first1 ,i agree with you that he was a man of erudition1 and a very polite writer2 he has displayed a copious imagination1 and a fine turn of thinking1 in courtly language and nervous expressions3 ,but1 as on the one hand1 it must be confessed1 that his sentiments on liberty and humanity are noble and sublime1 and that there is nothing trite or vulgar in the ,characteristics2 so1 on the other1 it cannot be denied1 that the ideas he had formed of the goodness and excellency of our nature1 were as romantic and chimerical as they are beautiful and amiable2 that he laboured hard to unite two contraries that can never be reconciled together1 innocence of manners1 and worldly greatness2 that to compass this end1 he favoured deism1 and1 under pretence of lashing priestcraft and superstition1 attacked the ,bible itself2 and1 lastly1 that by ridiculing many passages of ,holy ,writ1 he seems to have endeavoured to sap the foundation of all revealed religion1 with design of establishing ,heathen virtue on the ruins of ,christianity4 ,,finis4 ,,notes #a ,this was wrote in #agad4 #b ,this was wrote in #agad4 #c ,p4 #bab1 #bac4 ,first ,edit4 #age1 #agf4 #d ,p4 #bae4 ,first ,edit4 #agh4 #e ,p4 #ajf4 ,first ,edit4 #gg4 #f ,p4 #aaf4 ,first ,edit4 #hg4 #g ,p4 #aae1 #aaf4 ,first ,edit4 #hf1 #hg4 #h ,quis est tam vecors qui non intelligat1 numine hoc tantum imperium esse natum1 actum1 et retentum8 ,cic4 ,orat4 de ,harush4 ,resp4