A 497841
ROUTEAU
MISCELLA
843
R23
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 06579 3567
1767
i
University of
Michigan
Libraries
1817
ARTES SCIENTIA VERITAS
:
!
1
BUILDING
USE ONLY
·
ILDING
SE ONLY
THE
MISCELLANEOUS
WORK S
an Jonquer
OF
Mr. J. J. ROUSSEAU.
لدي
IN FIVE VOLUMES.
VOLUME I.
LONDON:
Printed for T. BECKET and P. A. DE HOND T,
in the Strand, MDCC LXVII,
VOL. I. contains
A Differtation on the Effects of cultivating the
Arts and Sciences.
P. L
A Differtation on the Origin and Foundation
of the Inequality of Mankind,
135
}
848
Umming
1-12-46
R86
1757
PREFA C E.
HE following pages contain a dif-
THE
cuffion of one of the moſt ſublime and
interefting of all moral queſtions. It is not
compofed, however, of thofe metaphyfi-
cal fubtilties, which of late have fo much
infected every branch of literature; and
from which even our academical thefes are
not always exempted. It is indeed, no-
thing more than a fimple inveftigation of
one of thoſe truths, on which the happi-
nefs of mankind depends.
I foreſee that I fhall not eaſily be for-
given in having taken the unpopular fide
of the queftion. The writer who openly
attacks what is univerfally admired, will
of courſe be univerfally cenfured: nor
will his having obtained the approbation
of a few fenfible men, enfure him that of
the public. But no matter: my refolu-
tion is taken: nor am I at all follicitous to
pleaſe either pretenders to wit or people
of fashion. There are men in all ages-
formed to adopt the prevailing opinions of
their peculiar communities. Thus our
prefent philofophers and free-thinkers, if
VOL. I. MISC. B
they
12
PREFACE.
1
they had lived in the time of the League,
had been nothing more than me e fana-
tics. Such readers are not to be regarded,
by thoſe who write for pofterity.
A word more and I have done. As I
did not much expect the honour this piece
hath received, I augmented and altered
it, after I had fent it to the academy, in
fo much as to make it almoſt a new piece.
In this publication, however, I thought
it neceffary to restore it to its priftine
form; being that in which it was favour-
ed with the prize: except that I have
taken the liberty to fubjoin a few notes,
and have left two alterations which are
eafily perceived, and are fuch as the aca-
demy poffibly might not have approved.
The refpect, gratitude and even justice
due to that body require of me this ac-
knowledgment.
A
DISSERTATION
ON THE
EFFECTS
OF CULTIVATING THE
ARTS AND SCIENCES.
Decipimur Specie recti.
T
INTRODUCTION.
HE queftion before me is, " Whether
the Reſtoration of the arts and fciences
hath contributed moft to the purity or corrup-
tion of manners?" The fide I fhall take in
determining it, is that, gentlemen, which be-
comes an honeft man, fenfible of his own igno-
rance, and yet in his own opinion no leſs eſti-
mable on that account.
I perceive it will be difficult to treat this fub-
ject with propriety, before the tribunal who
are now to judge of what is advanced. How
fhall I prefume to cenfure the fciences, before
one of the moft fcientific affemblies in Europe,
B 2
to
4
INTRODUCTION.
to commend ignorance to an Academy celebrat-
ed for its knowledge, and to conciliate a con-
tempt for ftudy with the reſpect due to the truly
learned?
I was aware of theſe inconſiſtencies, but not
diſcouraged by them. I excufed myſelf by re-
Hlecting that I fhould not make an attack on
fcience, but engage in the defence of virtue,
and that even in the eyes of the virtuous; who
are ftill more attached to probity than even the
learned to erudition.
What have I then to fear? The knowledge
and penetration of the affembly to whom my
performance is addreffed? This I acknow-
ledge; but it is on account of the merits of the
compoſition, not the defign of my piece. Equi-
table fovereigns have not heſitated to decide
againſt themſelves, when they have fat as judges
in a doubtful caufe; and indeed the moſt ad-
vantageous fituation in which a juft claim can
be exhibited, is that of being laid before an en-
lightened and juſt arbitrator, who is at once
judge and party in the cauſe.
To this encouraging motive I may add
another which has finally determined me. And
this is, that after having maintained the caufe
of truth, to the beſt of my natural abilities,
whatever be my apparent fuccefs, there is one
prize I cannot fail of poffeffing in fecret; which
is the conſcious fatisfaction arifing from it in my
own breaſt.
PART
[ 5 ]
PART THE FIRST.
T is a noble and beautiful retrospect, to
take a view of man, rifing in a manner by
I'
:
his own efforts out of nothing, and diffi-
pating by the light of reaſon that darkneſs with
which he was by nature inveloped to ſee him
raiſe himſelf in imagination beyond his native
ſphere; penetrating the celeftial regions, and, like
the fun, encompaffing, with giant ftrides, the vaſt
extent of the univerfe: to behold him again
deſcend into himſelf, a taſk ſtill more noble and
difficult! There to inveſtigate his own nature
and faculties, and thence difcover the defign of
his creation and his duty to his fellow-crea-
tures. The operation of all theſe miracles hath
been renewed within a few generations.
Europe having relapfed into the barbarifm of
the primitive ages; the inhabitants of this part
of the world, at preſent fo greatly enlightened,
long lived in a ftate ftill worfe than that of
ignorance. A fcientific jargon, more deſpic-
able than mere ignorance, had ufurped the name
of learning, and formed an almoſt invincible
obftacle to its reſtoration.
Things were arrived at fuch a paſs, that it
even required a total revolution in the ideas of
mankind, to bring them back again to com-
mon fenfe. This was at length brought about
by means from which it was leaſt expected.
B 3
It
was
6.
ON THE EFFECTS
was the ftupid Muffulman, that perpetual
fcourge of letters, who was the immediate
cauſe of their revival among us. The fall of
the throne of Conftantine carried into Italy the
ruins of ancient Greece; with which precious
ſpoils France in her turn was enriched. The
fciences foon followed literature, and the art of
thinking united itſelf to that of writing a
mode of gradation which may feem ftrange, and
which is perhaps but too natural. The world
now began to perceive the principal advantage
of an intercourfe with the mufes, viz. that of
rendering mankind more focial by inſpiring a
mutual defire to pleaſe, by performances worthy
of reciprocal approbation.
Man is fubject to intellectual as well as tó
corporeal neceffities. The latter conftitute the
fabric of fociety, and the former the ornaments
of it.
So long as government and the laws provide
for the fecurity and happineſs of a people, the
arts and ſciences, lefs defpotic though perhaps
more powerful, conceal the iron chains of fla-
very under à garland of flowers. They ftifle
in the breafts of mankind that ſenſe of liberty,
for the enjoyment of which we ſeem to have
been born; and, by making us enamoured with
flavery, form what is called a poliſhed people *.
Ne-
*Sovereigns behold always with pleaſure, a taſte
for the arts of amufement and fuperfluities, when
they do not require an exportation of bullion, in-
creaſe among their fubjects. They very well know
that, befides its nourishing that hittleneſs of mind
which
મ
OF THE SCIENCES.
7.
Neceffity erected thrones; the arts and fci-
ences have fupported them. It is yours, ye
potentates of the earth, to diftinguith literary
talents and protect thoſe who cultivate theni.
It is yours, ye polifhed nations, to merit fuch pro-
tection. Yes, ye happy flaves, it is to litera-
ture and the ſciences you owe that delicacy of
tafte, which is ſo much your boaſt; that can-
dour of difpofition, that urbanity of manners
which render your converfation fo agreeable-
and eafy. In a word, it is to them you owe the
appearance of all the virtues, without being in
poffeffion of one.
It was by this fpecies of politeneſs, which
is by fo much the more captivating as it ſeems
Jefs affected, that Athens and Rome were fo
much diftinguiſhed in the boaſted times of their
fplendour and magnificence: and it is doubtlefs
by the fame means that our own age and nation
will diftinguiſh itſelf above all thofe of antiqui-
ty. A philofophical precifion void of pedan--
try; a complacency free from affectation, equal-
ly diftant from the rufticity of the Germans
and the buffoonery of the Italians; theſe are the
effects of a tafte acquired by liberal ftudies and
which is favourable to tyranny, the people in
creating artificial wants are only forging their own
chains. Alexander, being defirous of keeping the
Ichthyopages in a ftate of dependence, he compell-
ed them to give over fishing, and fubfift on the cuf
tomary food of civilized nations. The American
favages, who go naked, and live on the products of
the chafe, could never be fubdued. In fact what
yoke can be impofed on men who ftand in need of
nothing!
B 4
im.
122
ON THE EFFECTS
8
improved by converfation with the world. How
happy would it be for thofe who live among us,
if our external appearance were always a picture
of the inward difpofition of our hearts; if de-
corum were but virtue; if the maxims we pro-
feffed were the rules of our conduct; and if
real philoſophy were infeparable from the appel-
lation of a philofopher! But fo many good
qualities feldom go together; virtue delights
not in ſo much pomp.
A fuperb drefs may denote opulence; an
elegant one a man of tafte; but the healthy
and robuft are known by different indications.
It is under the ruftic habit of a labourer, and
not beneath the lace or embroidery of a cour-
tier, that we ſhould look for bodily ftrength
and activity.
Exteriour ornaments are no leſs foreign to
virtue, which is the ftrength and activity of the
mind. The man of probity is an athletic, who
Joves to combat his adverfary naked; deſpifing
thofe paultry trappings, which prevent the ex-
ertion of his ftrength, and were, for the moft
part, invented only to conceal fome deformity.
Before art had polifhed our manners, and
taught our paffions to ſpeak the language of af-
fectation, our morals were rude but natural:
while a difference in point of behaviour denoted
at first fight a difference of difpofition. Hu-
man nature was not in itſelf better; but man-
kind found their fecurity in the facility of re-
ciprocally knowing each other's character. And
this advantage, of which we know not the
value, prevented their being guilty of many
´vices.
At
OF THE SCIENCES.
Q
At preſent, more fubtile reſearches and a more
refined tafte have reduced the art of pleafing to
a vulgar fyftem. Hence it is that a fervile and
fallacious conformity prevails in modern man-
ners; ſo that one would think our minds were
all caft in the fame mould. Politeness requires
this thing; decorum that; ceremony has its
forms, and faſhion its laws, by which we are
conftantly prevented following the dictates
of our own genius or underſtanding.
We dare no longer appear what we really are,
but lie under a perpetual reſtraint; in the mean
time the herd of mankind, which we may call
the world, act all under the fame circumftances
exactly alike, unleſs fome very particular and
powerful motives prevent them. By theſe
means, we are ever at a loſs with regard to a
man's true character; and even to know one's
friend muſt wait for fome critical and preffing
occafion; that is, till it is too late; as it is on
thofe very occafions fuch knowledge is of any
uſe to us.
What a train of vices muft neceffarily attend
this uncertainty! Sincere friendſhip, reàl
eſteem, and perfect confidence are banished
from among men: while umbrage, fufpicion,
fear, coldness, referve, hate and fraud, lie con-
ftantly concealed under that uniform and de-
ceitful veil of politeness; that boaſted candour
and urbanity, for which we are indebted to the
fuperior knowledge of this enlightened age.
Oaths and imprecations are become vulgar, and
the name of our Creator is no longer profaned
in polite company; whofe delicate ears never-
theleſs are not in the leaft offended at the most
B 5
horrid
•
10 ON THE EFFECTS
horrid blafphemy. We are grown too modeft
to boaſt our own merit; but fcruple not to en-
hance it, by derogating from that of others.
We do not rudely attack even our enemies, but
artfully calumniate them. Our prejudices.
againſt other nations diminiſh, but fo at the
fame time doth our love for our own country.
To a defpicable ignorance hath fucceeded a dan
gerous fcepticifm. Some vices indeed are con-
demned and others grown unfaſhionable; but
then we have ſtill many that are honoured with
the names of virtues, and it is become necef-
fary that we ſhould either have, or at leaſt affect
to have them. Let who will extol the mode-
ration of our modern fages, I fee nothing in it
for my part, but a refined fpecies of intempe-
rance as unworthy of my commendation as
their artificial fimplicity *.
Such is the purity which our morals have re-
quired; thus it is we are become virtuous. Let
the arts and ſciences reclaim the ſhare they
have had in this falutary work. To this I fhall
add but one reflection more; which is this,
that if an inhabitant of fome diſtant country
fhould endeavour to form an idea of European
morals from the ftate of the fciences, the per-
fection of the arts, the decorum of our public
* "I like," faid Montaigne, "to converfe and
hold an argument; but it is with very few people,
and that for my own gratification. For to do this,.
by way of affording amufement for the great, or of
making a parade of one's talents, is, in my opi-
nion, an employment very ill-becoming a man of
honour."
en-
OF THE SCIENCES.
I
entertainments, the politenefs of our behaviour,
the affability of our difcourfe, our constant pro-
feffions of benevolence, and from thoſe tumul-
tuous affemblies of people of all ranks, that
appear from morning till night, folicitous to
oblige each other. Such a ftranger, I ſay,
would conceive our fyftem of morals to be to-
tally contrary to what it really is.
Where there is no apparent effect, it is idle to
look for a caufe: but here the effect is certain ;
it is an actual depravation; our minds being
corrupted in the fame proportion, as the arts
and ſciences are improved. Will it be faid,
that this is a misfortune peculiar to the prefent.
age? No, gentlemen, the evils refulting from
our vain curiofity are coeval with the world. -
The daily ebbing and flowing of the tides are
not more regularly influenced by the moon, than
the morals of a people by the progrefs of the
arts and ſciences. Virtue hath diſappeared in
proportion as their light hath been diſplayed
above the horizon, and the fame phenomenon
hath been conftantly obferved in all times and
in all places.
Turn your eyes to Egypt, the firſt ſchool of
mankind, that ancient country, famous for its
fertility under a barren fky ; the ſpot from which
Sefoftris once fet out on his expedition to con-
quer the world: Egypt became the mother of
philoſophy and the fine arts; foon after which ·
it was conquered by Cambyfes, and then fuc--
ceffively by the Greeks, the Romans, the A-
rabs, and finally by the Turks.
Let us next take a furvey of Greece, once
peopled by heroes, who twice made themſelves
B. 6
mafters
12
ON THE EFFECTS
1
mafters of Afia. Letters, as yet in their in-
fancy, had not corrupted the difpofition of its
inhabitants; but the progrefs of the fciences,
foon produced a diffolutenefs of manners, and
the impofition of the Macedonian yoke: from
which time Greece, ever fince learned, volup-
tuous and enflaved, hath experienced nothing
but a change of mafters amidst all its revolu-
tions. Not the eloquence of Demofthenes him-
felf could reanimate a body once enervated by
luxury and the arts.
It was not till the days of Ennius and Te-
rence that Rome, founded by a fhepherd, and
rendered illuftricus by husbandmen, began to
degenerate. But after the appearance of an
Ovid, a Catullus a Martial, and the reft of
thoſe numerous obfcene authors, whofe very
names are fufficient to put modefty to the blufh,
Rome, heretofore the temple of virtue, became
the theatre of vice, a fcorn among the nations;
and the object of derifion even to barbarians.
Thus the capital of the world at length ſubmit-
ted to the yoke of flavery it had impoſed on
others the very day of its fall being that in
which it conferred on one of its citizens the
title of umpire in fubjects of taſte.
What fhall I fay of that metropolis of the
eaſtern empire, which, by its fituation, feemed
calculated to be capital of the world; that aſy-
lum of the arts and fciences, when they were
banifhed from the rift of Europe, more per-
haps through policy than barbarifm? The moſt
profligate debaucheries, the moſt abandoned
villanies, the moft atrocious crimes, plots,
murders and affaffinations form the chain of facts
which
OF THE SCIENCES.
13
which conftitute the hiftory of Conftantinople.
Yet from this pure and poliſhed fource are de-
rived thoſe boaſted rays which have illuminated
the prefent age.
But wherefore fhould we recur to paſt ages,
for proofs of a truth, of which the preſent af-
fords us fufficient evidence. There is a vaſt ·
empire in Afia, in which the paths of literature
are refpected as leading to the firft and moft ho-
nourable employments in the ſtate. If the
ſciences improved our morals, if they infpired
us with courage and taught us to lay down our
lives for the good of our country, the Chineſe
ſhould be of courſe, a wife, free and invincible
people. But, if there be hardly a vice which
they do not practife; if there be hardly a crime
to which they are not familiar; if neither the
fagacity of their minifters, the pretended wif-
dom of their laws, nor the multitude of in-
habitants who people that vaft empire could
preferve them from ſubjection to the yoke of the
rude and ignorant Tartars, of what uſe were
their men of fcience and literature? What
advantage hath that country reaped from the
honours beſtowed on its literati? That of
being peopled by a race of scoundrels and
flaves!
Let us oppofe to theſe inſtances that of the
morals of a few nations; who, being preferved
from the contagion of uſeleſs knowledge, have by
their virtues become happy in themſelves and af-
ford a fhining example to others. Such were
the firſt inhabitants of Perfia, a nation fo fin-
gular that virtue was taught among them in the
fame manner as the ſciences are with us. They
fub.
14
ON THE EFFECTS
fubdued Afia with great facility, and poffefs the
exclufive glory of having the fimple hiftory of
their political inftitutio s regarded by pofterity
as a philoſophical romance. Such were the
Scythians, of whom are tranfmitted from an-
tiquity fuch wonderful commendations. Such
were the Germans, whofe fimplicity, innocence
and virtue, afforded a moft delightful contraft
to the pen of an hiftorian, wearied with de-
fcribing the baſeneſs and villanies of an enlight-
ened, opulent and voluptuous nation. Such had
been even Rome in the days of its poverty and
ignorance. And fuch have we ſeen even in our
own times, that ruftic nation, whofe juftly
boafted courage not even adverfity hath been able
to deprefs, and whofe fidelity, not example hath
been able to corrupt *.
It is not through ftupidity that the latter have
preferred other exercifes to thofe of the under-
ftanding. They were not ignorant that in
other countries there were idle men who ſpent
their time in difputing about the fovereign good,
and about vice and virtue. They knew alfo.
that theſe vain reafoners, while they were la-
* I dare not ſpeak of thofe happy nations, who
knew not even the name of many vices, which we
find it fo difficult to fupprefs; the favages of Ame--
rica, whofe fimple and natural policy is by Mon-
taigne preferred, without hefitation, not only to the
laws of Plato, but to the moft perfect fyftem of
government philofophy hath ever fuggefted. He
cites many ftriking examples, for thofe who are ca-
pable of admiring them. But, what of all that,
fays he, the poor creatures are not worth a pair of
breeches!
vifr
OF THE SCIENCES.
15:
viſh in their own praiſes, indifcriminately ftig-
matized other nations with the contemptuous.
appellation of Barbarians. But they confider-
ed the morals of thefe polite people, and thence
were inftructed to difpute their learning *.
Can it be forgotten that, in the very heart.
of Greece, arofe a city as famous for the happy
ignorance of its inhabitants, as for the wifdom.
of its laws; a republic of demi-gods rather
than of men, fo greatly fuperior feemed their
virtues to thofe of mere humanity! Hail,
Sparta! thou eternal difgrace to the vanity of
fcience; who, while the vices, conducted by.
the fine arts, were introduced into Athens;.
even while its tyrant was carefully collecting
together the works of the prince of poets, ba
niſhed from within thy walls at once the artifts-
and the arts, the learned and their learning!
This difference of conduct was fufficiently.
diftinguiſhed by the confequential event.
thens became the feat of politenefs and tafte;,
A
* What are we to think,, was the real opinion of
the Athenians themſelves refpecting eloquence, when.
they were ſo very careful to baniſh declamation from
that upright tribunal, against whofe decifion their.
gods never appealed? What did the Romans think
of phyficians, when their art was prohibited in-
their republic? And when the remains of huma-
nity left among the Spaniards induced them to for-
bid the exportation of lawyers to merica, what
idea mult they have had of the fcience of jurif
prudence? May it not be faid that they imagined
by this fingle expedient, to make a reparation for
all the outrages they had committed against the poor.
unhappy Indians ?
the
18
ON THE EFFECTS
the country of orators and philofophers. The
elegance of its buildings was equal to that of
its language; while on every fide were preſented
marble and canvas, animated by the hands of
the moſt ſkilful artifts. It is from Athens that
we derive thoſe aftoniſhing performances, which
will ferve as models to all fucceeding corrupted
ages. The picture of Lacedæmonia is not fo
highly coloured..
Of Sparta, the neighbouring nations ob-
ferved, that " Men were there born virtuous;
their native air feeming to inſpire them with
virtue." But all its inhabitants have left us, is
the memorial of their heroic actions: monu-
ments that ſhould be eſteemed more valuable
than the moft curious relicks of the Athenian
marbles.
ge-
It is true that, among the Athenians, there
were fome few wife men who withſtood the
neral torrent, and preferved their integrity even
in the company of the mufes. But let us at-
tend to the judgment which the principal, and
most unhappy of them, paffed on the artifts
and literati of his time.
"I have examined the poets," fays he, "and
"I look upon them as people whofe talents
"impoſe both on themſelves and others; they
"give themſelves out for wife men, and are
"taken for fuch; but in reality they are ftrange
❝ fools."
"From the poets," continues Socrates, "I
❝turned to the artifts. Nobody was more ig-
16 norant of the arts than myfelf; and of
"courſe nobody was more fully perfuaded that
"the artifts were poffeffed of amazing know-
& ledge,
OF THE SCIENCES.
17
،
ledge. I foon difcovered, however, that
"their fituation was no better than that of the
"poets; both the one and the other being ſub-
'
ject to the fame prejudices. Becauſe the moſt
"fkilful of them excel others in their particu-
"lar profeffions, they think themſelves wifer
"than all the reft of mankind. This arro-
(C
gance, in my opinion, tarnished entirely
"the luftre of their knowledge; fo that, tak-
"ing upon me the prerogative of an oracle,
"and afking myfelf whether I had rather be
"what I am or what they are, to know what
"they know, or to know that I know no-
thing? I very readily anſwered, In the name
"of God, let me remain as I am.
"We know none of us, neither the fophifts,
"the poets, the orators, the artifts, nor myſelf in
"what confifts the true, the good, or the beautiful.
"But there is this difference between us; that,
"though none of theſe people know any thing,
"they all conceit they know fomething; where-
"as for my part, if I know nothing, I make no
"doubt of my ignorance. So the fuperiority of
"wiſdom, imputed to me by the oracle, is re-
"duced merely to my being fully convinced
"that I am ignorant of what I do not know."
Thus we find Socrates, the wifeft of men,
in the opinion of an oracle, and the moſt
learned of all the Athenians in the opinion
of all Greece, making a profeffed panegyric
on ignorance. Were he now
now alive alſo,
there is little reafon to think that our mo-
dern ſcholars and artifts would induce him to
change his mind. No, gentlemen, that honeft
fage would ſtill perfift in defpifing our vain fci-
He would lend no aſſiſtance to ſwell
the
ences.
敏
​18
ON THE EFFECTS
the numerous catalogue of books, that flow in
upon us from all quarters: but would leave us
only, as he did heretofore to his difciples, the
example and memorial of his virtues; the no-
bleft method of inftructing mankind.
Socrates began at Athens, and the elder Cato.
proceeded at Rome to inveigh against thofe fe-
ductive and fubtile Greeks, who corrupted the
virtue and diminiſhed the courage of their
fellow-citizens: the arts and fciences however:
ftill prevailed. Rome abounded with philofo-
phers and orators, while its military diſcipline-
was neglected, agriculture was held in con-
tempt, and patriotifm gave place to the forma
tion of parties. To the facred names of liber--
ty, and obedience to the laws, fucceeded thoſe
of the founders of particular fects, as Epicu-.
rus, Zeno, and Arcefilas. It was even a faying
among their own philoſophers that "their men
of learning had eclipfed their men of probity.'
Before that time the Romans were fatisfied with
the practice of virtue; and were undone when
they began to study its theory.
What would the great foul of Fabricius.
have felt, if to his misfortune, he had been
called back to life, to have ſeen the pomp and
magnificence of that Rome, which his arm had
faved from ruin, and his reſpectable name ren-
dered more illuftrious than all its conquefts.
"Ye gods! would he have faid, what are be-
' come of thoſe thatched roofs and ruftic
hearths, which were formerly the habitations
❝ of temperance and virtue? What fatal
fplendour hath fucceeded the ancient Roman.
"fimplicity? What is this foreign language,
this effeminacy of manners? What is the
muje
OF THE SCIENCES.
19
"uſe of theſe ftatues, paintings and edifices?
"Ye fenfeless people, what is it you have done?
"You, who are the lords and mafters of the
"earth, have made yourſelves flaves to the fri-
"volous nations ye have fubdued. Ye are go-
"verned merely by talkers and rhetoricians,
and it has been only to enrich architects,
"painters, ftatuaries and ftage-players that you
"have fhed fo much blood in the reduction of
"Greece and Afia. While even the ſpoils of
66
Carthage are become the reward of a flute-
"player. Romans! Romans! haften to de-
"molifh thofe amphitheatres, break to pieces
"thofe marble ftatues, burn thofe paintings;
"and drive from among you thofe flaves who
"keep you in fubjection, and whofe fatal arts
"have corrupted your morals., Let others
"render themſelves illuftrious by fuch vain
talents; the only talent worthy of Rome is
"that of conquering the world and extending
"the practice of virtue. When Cyneas took
the Roman fenate for an affembly of kings,
"he was not ftruck either with ufelefs pomp
"or ftudied elegance. He was not captivated
પ
by that futile eloquence, which is now the
"pride of your frivolous orators. What was
"it then, which ftruck Cyneas with the idea of
"our fenatorial majefty? O, my fellow-ci-
"tizens, he beheld a fight, the nobleft that
"ever exifted under heaven, a fight which not
"all your riches or your arts can produce;
"this was an affembly of two hundred virtu-
"ous men, worthy to command in Rome, and
"to govern the world."
Butz
20
ON THE EFFECTS
But let us lay aſide the diſtance of time and
place, and examine what hath happened in our
own time and country; or rather let us fet aſide
thoſe odious defcriptions that may offend our
delicacy, and fpare our felves the pains of re-
peating the fame circumftances under different
names. It was not for nothing that I invoked
the name of Fabricius.; for what have I put
into his mouth, that might not have come with
as much propriety from Lewis the twelfth or
King Henry the IV. It is true that in France,
Socrates would not have been compelled to
drink poiſon, but he muſt have ſwallowed a po-
tion infinitely more bitter, the m ft infulting
raillery and contempt, an hundred times worfe
than death.
Thus it is that luxury, profligacy and ſlavery,
have been, in all ages, the fcourge of our am-
bitious endeavours to emerge out of that happy
ftate of ignorance, in which the wiſdom of
providence had placed us. That thick veil with
which it hath covered all its operations, feems
to be a fufficient proof that it never defigned
us for fuch fruitleſs reſearches. But is there,
indeed, one leffon it hath taught us, that we
have rightly profited by, or have not with im-
punity neglected? Be rightly inftructed, how-
ever, for once, ye people, and know that na-
ture would have prefcrved you from fcience, as
a tender mother fnatches a dangerous weapon
out of the hands of her child. Know that all
the fecrets the hides from you, are ſo many
evils from which the protects you; the very dif
ficulty you experience in acquiring knowledge
being a diftinguishing mark of her benevolence
towards
OF THE SCIENCES.
21
towards you. Mankind are naturally perverfe;
but how much more fo would they be, if they
had the misfortune to be alfo born learned.
Theſe reflections are fufficiently mortifying
to the pride of human nature. What! will it
be faid, is probity the child of ignorance? Is
virtue inconfiftent with fcience? How fatal
are the conſequences that flow from ſuch pre-
poffeffions! But to reconcile theſe apparent
contradictions, we need only to examine nearly
the emptiness and vanity of thoſe pompous
titles, which are fo liberally beftowed on human
knowledge. Let us confider, therefore, the
arts and ſciences in themſelves. Let us trace
the refult of their progrefs, nor fcruple to ad-
mit of thoſe points, in which our rational in-
ductions fhall be found to agree with thoſe de-
ducible from hiſtory.
PART
22
ON THE EFFECTS
A
PART THE SECOND.
N ancient tradition paffed out of Egypt
into Greece, that fome god, who was an
enemy to the repofe of mankind, was the in-
ventor of the fciences *. What must have been
the opinion of the Egyptians, then, with whom
the fciences firft took rife; they who beheld,
at a nearer diſtance, the fource from whence
they fprung. In fact, whether we turn to the
annals of the world, or fubftitute philoſophical
inveſtigations inſtead of the uncertain chronicles
of hiftory, we ſhall not find the origin of hu-
man knowledge, anfwerable to the idea we are
fond of entertaining of it at prefent. Aftro-
nomy was the effect of fuperftition; eloquence
of ambition, hatred, falfehood and flattery;
geometry of avarice; phyfics of an idle cu-
riofity; and moral philofophy, like all the reft,
of human pride. Thus the arts and ſciences
*It is eafy to difcover the allegory of the fable
of Prometheus: and it does not appear that the
Greeks, who chained him to mount Caucaſus, had
a better opinion of him than the Ægyptians had of
their god Teuthos. A certain fatyr, fays an ancient
fabuliſt, the firſt time he ſaw a fire, was going to
kiſs and embrace it; but Prometheus cried out to
him to forbear, or otherwiſe his beard would rue it.
It burns, fays he, every thing that touches it.
7
Owe
OF THE SCIENCES.
23
ove their birth to our vices; we fhould be lefs
doubtful of their advantages, if they had
fprung from our virtues.
The default of their origin is, indeed, but
too plainly feen in their objects. What would
become of the arts, were they not cheriſhed
by luxury? If men were not unjuft, of what
ufe were jurifprudence? What would become
of hiſtory, if there were no tyrants, wars, nor
confpiracies? In a word, who would paſs his
life in barren fpeculations, if every body, at-
tentive only to the obligations of humanity
and the neceffities of nature, employed them-
felves folely in ferving their country, obliging
their friends, and relieving the unhappy? Are
we then formed, it may be afked, to live and
die on the brink of that well in which Truth
lies hid at the bottom? This reflection alone
is, in my opinion, enough to diſcourage at firſt
fetting out, every man who ferioufly endea-
vours to inftruct himſelf by the ftudy of phi-
lofophy.
What a variety of dangers furround us!
What a number of wrong paths prefent them-
felves in the inveftigation of the fciences!
Through how many errors, more perilous than
the truth itſelf is uſeful, muft we not pafs to
arrive at it? The difadvantages we lie under
are evident; for falsehood is capable of an in-
finite variety of combinations; but the truth
hath but one fimple way of being fuch. Be-
fides, where is the man who fincerely defires
to find it? Or even admitting his good will,
by what characteriſtic marks is he fure to know
it? Amidst that infinite diversity of opinions
which
24
ON THE EFFECTS
which prevail in the world, where is the crite-
rion.* by which he may certainly judge of it?
Again, what is ftill more difficult, if we fhould
even be fortunate enough to diſcover it, which
of us knows how to make a proper ufe of it?
If our fciences, alfo, are futile in the objects
they propoſe, they are no lefs dangerous in the
effects they produce. Being themſelves the ef-
fect of indolence, they generate idlenefs in
turn; and an irreparable lofs of time, is the
firft prejudice they muft neceffarily be of to fo-
ciety. To live without doing fome good, is a
great evil as well in the political as in the moral
world; and hence an uſeleſs citizen fhould ever
be regarded as a very pernicious member of fo-
ciety. Answer me then, ye illuftrious philo-
fophers, you, of whom we learn the ratios in
which attraction acts in vacuo; and in the re-
volution of the planets, defcribing equal ſpaces
in equal times; you, of whom we are taught
how the foul and body correfpond like two
watches without actual communication with
each other; what planets are inhabited; and
what infects are capable of reproduction. An-
fwer me, I fay, you from whom we receive all
this fublime information, whether we fhould
have been lefs numerous, worſe governed, lefs
* The lefs we know, the more we think we
know. The peripatetics doubted of nothing. Def
cartes conftructed an univerfe with cubes and vor-
tices. And there is fcarce a minute philofopher in
Europe, who does not boldly explain the inexpli-
cable myfteries of electricity, which will perhaps
be ever defpaired of by real philofophers.
for-
OF THE SCIENCES.
25
1
formidable, leſs flouriſhing, or more perverfe,
fuppofing you had taught us none of all theſe
fine things.
Recede then from the pretended importance
of your productions; and, fince the labours of
the moſt enlightened among the learned and
among the moft virtuous of our citizens, are of
fo little public utility, acknowledge what we
ought to think of that numerous herd of ob-
fcure writers and uſeleſs literati, who live idly
upon the ſubſtance of the ſtate.
Idly, do I fay? Would to God they were
really idle. Society would be more peaceful,
and our manners lefs corrupt. But thefe vain
and futile declaimers go forth on all fides, arm-
ed with fatal paradoxes, to fap the foundation
of our faith, and eradicate the principles of vir-
tue. They contemptuously deride the anti-
quated names of patriotifm and religion; con-
fecrating their talents and philofophy to the de-
baſement and abolition of every thing that is
held facred among mankind. Not that they
bear any real hatred to religion or virtue; they
are enemies only to the public opinion; and
would readily become Chriftians if they were
baniſhed to a country of Atheiſts. What ex-
travagancies will not the rage of fingularity in-
duce men to commit!
The abuſe of time is certainly a great evil
but ftill greater evils attend upon literature and
the arts. Such is luxury, produced like them
by indolence and vanity. Luxury is feldom
unattended by the arts and fciences; but thefe
are ever attended by luxury. I am not to learn
that our modern philofophy, fertile in paradoxes,
pretends, in contradiction to the experience of
VOL. I. MISC.
C
ages,
26
ON THE EFFECTS
ages, that luxury contributes to the ſplendour
of a ſtate. But, without infifting on the ex-
pediency of fumptuary laws, can it be denied i
that rectitude of morals is effential to the du-
ration of empires, and that luxury is diame-
trically oppoſite to fuch rectitude? Let it be
admitted that luxury is a certain indication of
wealth; that it even ferves, if you will, to in-
creaſe ſuch wealth: what conclufion is to be
drawn from this paradox, fo worthy of the
times? And what will become of virtue if
riches are to be acquired at any rate? The po-
liticians among the ancients were always talk-
ing
of morals and virtue; ours fpeak of nothing
elſe but commerce and money. One of them
gravely tells us that in fuch a country a man is
worth juft as much as he will fell for at Al-
giers: another, purfuing the fame mode of
calculation, finds that in fome countrics a man
is worth nothing, and in others ftill leſs than
nothing; thus valuing men as they do droves
of oxen. According to thefe eftimators, a man
is worth no more to the ftate, than in propor-
tion to his confumption; and thus a Sybarite
would be worth at leaſt thirty Lacedæmonians.
Let thefe writers tell me, however, which of the
two republics Sybaris or Sparta was fubdued by
an handful of peasants, and which of them be-
came the terror of Afia.
The monarchy of Cyrus was conquered by
thirty thouſand men, led on by a prince, poorer
than the meaneft of the Perfian Satrapes: in
Jike manner the Scythians, the moſt indigent of
all nations, were found capable of refifting the
most powerful monarchs of the univerſe. When
two famous republicks contended for the empire
of
OF THE SCIENCES.
27
of the world, the one rich and the other poor,
the former was fubdued by the latter. The
Roman empire in its turn, after having accu-
mulated to itſelf all the riches of the univerſe,
became the fpoil of a people who knew not even
what riches were. The Franks conquered the
Gauls, and the Saxons England, without any
other treaſures than their bravery and poverty.
A band of poor mountaineers, whofe avidity
was confined to the poffeffion of a few ſheep-
fkins, having firft given a check to the arro-
gance of Auftria, went on to cruſh the opulent
and formidable houſe of Burgundy, which at
that time made the potentates of Europe to
tremble. In fine, not all the power and wif-
dom of the heir to Charles the fifth, fupported
even by the treaſures of the Indies, could fup-
prefs the revolt of a few herring-fiſhers in the
Netherlands. Let our fpeculative politicians
condeſcend to lay aſide their calculations for a
moment, to reflect on theſe examples; whence
they may learn that money, though it buys
every thing elfe, cannot purchafe good morals
and virtuous citizens. What is then the pre-
cife point in difpute regarding luxury? It is to
know which is moft advantageous to ftates, to
have a brilliant and momentary exiſtence, or
to be virtuous and durable? I ſay to be bril-
liant, but with what luftre ! A tafte for often-
tation never prevails in thoſe minds' which de-
light in probity. No, it is impoffible that
underſtandings, contracted by a multitude of
frivolous occupations, fhould ever be elevated
to what is truly great and noble; nay even if
they had the power, they would want the for-
titude to exert it.
C 2
Every
28
ON THE EFFECTS
;
Every artiſt is covetous of applaufe. The
applaufe of his contemporaries conftitutes a
valuable part of his recompenfe. What muft
he do then to obtain it, if he have the misfor-
tune to be born among a people, and at a time,
when literature being in vogue, even fuperfi-
cial youth are qualified to lead the faſhion
when men facrifice their tafte to the tyrants of
their liberty, and one fex dares not approve
any thing but what is agreeable to the pufillani-
mity of the other*; when the greateſt máfter-
pieces of the drama are condemned, and the
nobleft of mufical productions neglected? This,
gentlemen, he will do. He will lower his ge-
nius to the level of the age, and will rather
fubmit to compofe ordinary productions, that
may be admired during his life-time, than la-
bour at fublime performances which will not
be admired till after his death. Tell us, Vol-
* I am far from thinking that the aſcendant which
the women have obtained over the men, is an evil
in itſelf. It is a prefent which nature hath made
them for the good of mankind. If better direct,
ed, it might be productive of as much good,
as it is now of evil. We are not fufficiently fenfi-
ble of what advantage it would be to fociety to give
a better education to that half of our fpecies which
governs the other. The men will always do what
is pleafing to the women. If you require there-
fore that the former ſhould be noble and virtuous,
let the women be taught what greatnefs of foul and
virtue are. The reflections which this fubject would
furnish, and which Plato formerly intimated, de-
ſerve to be more fully developed by a pen worthy
to write after fo great a maſter, and to defend fo
great a caufe.
taire,
OF THE SCIENCES.
23
faire, how many nervous, and mafculine beau-
ties you have facrificed to the falfe delicacy of
our times; tell us how many great and noble
ſtrokes you have fuppreffed, in compliance to
that ſpirit of modern gallantry, which delights
in what is frivolous and little.
It is thus that a relaxation in morals, the ne-
ceffary confequence of luxury, brings with it
of courſe a corruption of tafte. If by chance,
alſo, there be found among the men of genius,
an individual who hath fortitude enough to re-
fufe to comply with the.tafte of the age, and to
debafe himſelf by puerile productions; hard
will be his lot, to live and die in indigence and
be buried in oblivion. Ah! why is this not
rather a mere prediction, than a fact already
confirmed by experience! Yes, thou admirable
Carle Pierre, the time is already come when
that pencil of thine, deftined to increaſe the
majefty of our temples, by fublime and facred
reprefentations, muft be thrown afide, or be
proſtituted to adorn the pannels of our coaches
with wanton defigns and lafcivious paintings.
And thou, inimitable Pygal, rival of Phidias
and Praxiteles; thou, whofe chiffel would
have been employed among the antients to
carve them gods, whofe images would almoſt
have excufed their idolatry; yes, even thy ma-
fterly hand muſt condescend to fashion baubles
and monfters, or remain idle.
We cannot reflect on the manners of man-
kind, without contemplating with pleaſure the
picture of that fimplicity which prevailed in
the primitive ages. This picture may be juftly
compared to that of a beautiful coaft, adorned
alone by the hands of nature; towards which
C 3
our
30
ON THE EFFECTS
our eyes are conftantly turned, and from which
we perceive ourſelves departing with reluctance.
While men were innocent and virtuous, they
loved to have the gods for witneffes of their
actions, and therefore they dwelt together in
the ſame ruftic habitations; but when they be-
came vicious, they grew tired of fuch officious.
fpectators, and banished them to magnificent
temples. At length, therefore, they expelled
their deities even from thefe; at leaft the tem-
ples of the gods were no more magnificent than
the palaces of the citizens. This was the
height of depravation; nor could the vices ever
be carried a greater length than when they were
feen, fupported, as it were, at the doors of the
great, on columns of marble and engraven on
Corinthian capitals.
As the conveniences of life increaſe, the arts
are brought to perfection, and luxury of courſe
prevails; true courage flags; the virtues dif-
appear; and all this is the effect of the fciences
and of thoſe arts which are exerciſed in the
obſcurity of the clofet. When the Goths ra-
vaged Greece, the libraries eſcaped the flames
merely from an opinion propagated among
them, that it was improper to diveft the enemy
of thoſe means which diverted their attention
from military exerciſes, and kept it engaged by
indolent and fedentary occupations.
Charles the eighth made himfelf maſter of
Tuſcany and the kingdoms of Naples, almoſt
without drawing his word; this unexpected
fuccefs being imputed, by the whole court, to
the Italian nobility's having applied with greater
earneftneſs to the ſtudy of the fciences than to
marial purfuits. In fact, fays the fenfible re-
lator
OF THE SCIENCES.
31
lator of the laſt two remarks, experience plain-
evinces, that an application to the fciences
tends rather to make men effeminate and da-
ftardly than refolute and vigorous.
The Romans confeffed that military virtue
was extinguished among them, in proportion
as they began to grow connoiffeurs in painting,
fculpture, and the reft of the fine arts. Nay,
as if this celebrated country was to be for ever
an example to other nations, the revival of
letters hath again demoliſhed, and perhaps for
ever, the martial reputation which Italy feem-
ed a few centuries ago to have recovered.
The ancient republicks of Greece, with that
wifdom which was fo confpicuous in moft of
their inftitutions, prohibited all thofe inactive
and fedentary employments, which by ener-
vating the body diminiſhed alfo the vigour of
the mind. With what courage, in fact, can
it be thought that hunger and thirft, fatigues,
dangers and death, can be confronted by men,
who are fhocked at the ſmalleſt difficulty and
depreffed with the flighteſt pain? With what
refolution can foldiers fupport the exceffive toils
of war, when they are entirely unaccustomed
to them? With what fpirits can they make forced
marches againſt the enemy under the command'
of officers, who have not even the ftrength to
travel on horſeback? To this may be objected
many celebrated inſtances of valour in officers
artificially trained up in the modern diſcipline
of war. But, however juftly they may boaft
their bravery in the field, and on the day of
battle, they will prudently be filent on their
ability to fupport exceffive fatigue, the rigour
•
C 4
of
32
ON THE EFFECTS
ther.
of the feaſons and the inclemency of the wea
A little funfhine or fnow, or the want
of a few fuperfluities, is fufficient to deflroy one
of our fineft armies in a few days. Intrepid
warriors! permit me for once to tell you the
truth, which you feldom hear. Of your bra-
very I am fully fatisfied. I have no doubt that
you would have triumphed with Hannibal at
Cannæ, and at Thraffimen: that you would
have pafled the Rubicon with Cæfar, and
cnabled him to enflave his country; but you
never would have been able to have croffed the
Alps with the former, or to fubdue the Gauls
with the latter.
The fucceſs of a war does not always depend
on the events of battle: but there is in general-
ſhip an art fuperior to that of gaining victories.
A man may behave with great intrepidity in
the field, and yet be a very indifferent officer.
Even in the common foldier, a little more
ftrength and vigour would perhaps be more ufe-
ful than fo much courage; which after all can-
not ſecure him from death. And what imports.
it to the ſtate whether its troops perifh by colds
and fevers, or by the fword of the enemy?
Again, if the cultivation of the ſciences be
prejudicial to military qualifications, it is ftill
more fo to moral qualities. Hence an abfurd
mode of education ferves, even from our in-
fancy, to improve our wit and corrupt our un-
derſtanding. We fee, on every fide, great in-
ftitutions, where youth are educated at a great
expence, and inftructed in every thing but their
duty. Your children are kept ignorant of their
own language, while they are taught to ſpeak
others of no manner of ufe. In like manner
they
OF THE SCIENCES.
3.3
they learn to make verfes which they can hard-
ly underſtand; and, without being capable to
diſtinguiſh truth from error, are taught the art
of difguifing them to others by argumentative
fophiftry. But with regard to magnanimity,
equity, temperance, humanity, courage, they
are words of which they know not the mean-
ing. The pleafing name of patriot never
reaches their ear; and if they ever hear the name
of God *, it is to hear him reprefented as an ob-
ject of terror rather than of reverence. I fhould
as lieve, faid a very fenfible tutor on this occa-
fion, that my pupil had ſpent his time in the
tennis court as in this manner; as there he
would at leaſt have acquired an active difpofition
of body.
I well know that children ought to be em-
ployed, and that idleneſs is to them of dange-
rous confequence. But what should they be
employed about! What ſhould they be taught?
This is undoubtedly an important queftion.
Let them be taught what they are to practife
when they come to be ment; not what they
are to forget before they come to man's eſtate.
* Penfees philofophiques.
Our
+ Such was the education of the Spartans with
regard to one of the greateſt of their kings. It is
well worth obfervance, fays: Montaigne, that the
excellent inftitutions of Lycurgus, which were in
truth miraculouſly perfect, were fa attentive to the
bringing up of youth as if this were their principal,
object, yet make no mention of learning: as if
their generous-fpirited youth, difdaining every
other reftraint, required, inftead of maſters of the
arts and fcientific pedagogues, liberal inftructors in
valour, prudence and justice.
C 5
Let
34
ON THE EFFECTS
Our gardens are embellished with ftatues and
our galleries with pictures. What do you ima
Let us hear next what the fame writer fays of the
Perfians. Plato, fays he, relates that the prefump-
tive heir to the crown was thus brought up. At his
birth he was committed, not to the care of the wo-
men, but to thofe eunuchs who were in higheſt
authority and eſteem with the king, on account of
their virtue. Theſe undertook to render his body
beautiful and healthy. At feven years of age they
taught him to ride and go a hunting. At fourteen
he was placed under the tuition of four, the moft
wife, juft, temperate and brave perfons in the
kingdom. The first inftructed him in religion,
the fecond taught him to adhere inviolably to truth;
the third to conquer his paffions, and the fourth to
be afraid of nothing. All, I may add, taught him
to be a good man; but not one taught him to be
learned.
Aftyages, in Zenophon, defires Cyrus to give
him an account of his laft leſſon. It was this, an-
fwered Cyrus, one of the great boys of the ſchool
having a little coat, gave it to a little boy and took
away from him his coat which was larger. Our
preceptor having appointed me arbiter in the dif-
pute, I ordered that matters ſhould ſtand as they
were, as each boy feemed to be better accommodated
than before. The mafter remonftrated, however,
againſt my ſentence; alledging that I confidered only
the propriety of things; whereas juſtice ought firſt to
have been regarded: by the first principle of which
we are taught that none fhould be divefted of their
property by force and violence: adding, that he
was punished for his wrong decifion, just as the
boys are puniſhed in our country ſchools when they
forget the firſt aorift of Tú, My governor muſt
make me a fine oration, in genere demonftrativo, be-
fore he will perfuade me that his fchool is as good as
this.
gine
OF THE SCIENCES.
35
gine theſe mafter-pieces of art, thus exhibited
to public admiration, reprefent? The great
men, who have defended our country, or the
ftill greater men who have enriched it by their
virtues? No, they are the extravagant images
of loofe defires and perverted underſtandings,
carefully felected from the ancient mythology,
and preſented to the early curiofity of our chil-
dren, doubtlefs that they may have in view the
repreſentations of vicious actions, before they
have learned to read the hiftory of them.
Whence alife all thofe abufes, unleſs it be
from that fatal inequality introduced among
men, by the difference of talents and the de-
preffion of virtue. Such is the most evident
effect of all our ftudies, and the moft dangerous
of all their confequences. The queſtion is no
longer, is he a man of probity? but, is he a
man of ingenuity? We aſk not of a book,
whether it be useful? but whether it be well
written? Premiums are laviſhed on wit and
ingenuity, while virtue is left to its own re-
ward. Numerous are the prizes offered for fine
writings, none for good actions. I fhould be
glad however to know whether the honour of
obtaining the prize of the academy, is any de-
gree comparable to the merit of having infti-
tuted it.
A wiſe man is not eager after the gifts of for-
tune; but he is by no means infenfible to glory,
and when he fees it fo ill diftributed, his virtue,
which might have been animated by a little
emulation, and rendered advantageous to fo-
ciety, droops and dies away in obfcurity and
indigence. It is from this caufe, that the
agreeable arts muft in time neceffarily be pre-
C 6
ferred
36
ON THE EFFECTS.
We have natural
ferred to the uſeful; a circumftance which has
been but too much confirmed fince the revival.
of the arts and ſciences.
Philofophers, geometricians, chymifts, aftro-
nomers, poets, muficians, and painters in
plenty; but we have no longer a true patriot
amongſt us; or if there be found a few diſperſed
up and down the country, they are left to perifh
in their native poverty unnoticed and neglected..
Such is the fituation to which we are reduced..
And fuch are our fentiments with regard to
thofe, who give us our daily bread, and afford
us nouriſhment for our children.
•
I confefs, however, that the evil is not fo
great as it might have been. Allwife provi-
dence, by placing falutary fimples near noxious.
plants, and by making poiſonous animals con-
tain their own antidote, hath taught the fo-
vereigns of the earth, who are his minifters, to
imitate his wifdom. It is by following this
example that the truly great monarch, to whoſe
glory every fucceeding age will add new luftre,
drew from the very bofom of the arts and ſci-
ences, the very fountains of corruption, thofe
famous focieties, which, while they are depo-
fitaries of that dangerous truft the fciences, are.
yet the facred guardians of our morals, by
their attention to maintain a purity of manners
among themſelves, and requiring it in every
candidate as the condition of his admittance
into their fociety.
Thefe wife inftitutions, confirmed by his
auguft fucceffor and imitated by all the princes
of Europe, will ferve at leaft as a reſtraint on
men of letters, who all afpiring to the honour
of being admitted into thefe academies, will of
courfe
OF THE SCIENCES.
37
courſe have an eye to their moral conduct, and
endeavour to merit fuch honour by uſeful pcr--
formances and irreproachable manners. Thofe
academies alſo, which, propofing prizes for li-
terary merit, fhall make choice of fuch fub-
jects, as are adapted to incite their countrymen
to virtue, prove that it prevails in themfelves,
and muſt give us a fenfible and fingular plea-
fure to find that fuch learned focieties devote
their time to enlighten mankind, not only by
fuch inſtructions as are agreeable, but by thoſe
which are uſeful..
Let not an objection be ſtarted, therefore,
which is only an additional proof of my argu-
ment. So much precaution proves but too.
evidently the neceffity of taking it. We never
look out for remedies against ills that do not.
exiſt. Wherefore, indeed, do thefe bear all
the marks of mere ordinary remedies, on ac--
count of their inefficacy? The numerous eſta-
bliſhments in favour of the learned, are only
adapted to make men miſtake the objects of the
ſciences, while they engage our attention to
the cultivation of them. One would be apt
to think, from the precautions every where
taken, that we are overſtocked with huſband-
en, and are afraid of wanting philofophers.
I will not venture here to enter into a compa-
rifon between agriculture and philofophy, as
they would not bear it. I fhall only afk what
is philofophy? What is there contained in the
writings of the moft celebrated philofophers?
What are the inftructions of thefe great friends
of wiſdom. If we pay them any attention,
fhall we not take them for fo many mounte-
banks, exhibiting themſelves in public, and
6
crying
38
ON THE EFFECTS
crying out, in here, in here, come to me, I am
the only true doct:r ? One of them teaches that
there is no fuch thing in the world as matter,
but that every thing is merely reprefentative.
Another declares that there is no other ſub-
ſtance than matter, and no other God than the
world itſelf. A third tells you that there is no fuch
thing in nature as virtue and vice, but that mo-
ral good and evil are only chimerical; while a
fourth informs you that men are only beaſts of
prey, and may confcientiously devour each
other. Oh why, ye great philofophers, do
you not reſerve thefe wife and profitable leffons
for your friends and children: you would foon
the benefit of them, nor fhould we be under
any apprehenfions of ours becoming your dif-
ciples.
reap
Such are the wonderful men, whom their
contemporaries held in the higheft efleem dur-
ing their lives, and to whom immortality hath
been attributed fince their deceaſe. Such are
the wife maxims we have received from them,
and which are tranfmitted from age to age, to
pofterity. Paganiſm, though polluted with all
the extravagances of human reafon, hath left
nothing equal to the fhameful monuments
which have been erected by the art of printing,
during the reign of the gofpel. The impious
writings of Leucippus and Diagoras perifhed
with their authors. The world, in their days,
were ignorant of the art of immortalizing the
errors and extravagancies of the human mind.
But thanks to the art of printing* and the uſe
we
*If we confider the horrid diforders which the
art of printing hath already cauſed in Europe, and
judge
OF THE SCIENCES.
39
we make of it, the pernicious reveries of Hob-
bes and Spinofa will laft for ever. Hence with
thofe celebrated writings, of which the igno-
rance and rufticity of our forefathers were in-
capable! Hence with them to our defcen-
dants, accompanied by thofe writings, ftill
more pernicious, which arife from the corrupt-
ed manners of the prefent age! Let them
convey to pofterity a faithful hiftory of the
progrefs and advantages of our arts and ſciences.
If they are read, they will leave not a doubt
about the queſtion now difcuffed and unleſs
mankind fhould then be ftill more abfurd than
we, they will lift up their eyes to heaven and
judge of the future by the evils that daily refult
from it, it is eafy to forefee that fovereigns will
hereafter take as much pains to fupprefs, as they
ever took to encourage it. The Sultan Achmet,
yielding to the importunities of certain pretenders
to taſte, confented to have a prefs erected at Con-
ftantinople; but it was hardly fet to work before
they were obliged to deftroy it, and throw the
and types into a well.
prefs
It is related that the Calif Omar, being aſked
what ſhould be done with the library at Alexandria,
anſwered in theſe words. "If the books in the li-
brary contain any thing contrary to the Alcoran,
they are naught and ought to be burnt; if they
contain the doctrines of the Alcoran, they are uſe-
lefs and ought to be burnt likewife." This rea-
foning has been cited by our men of letters as the
height of abfurdity; but if Gregory the Great had
been in the place of Omar, and the Goſpel in the
place of the Alcoran, the library would have been
in like manner committed to the flames; and it
would have been one of the moſt brilliant actions
of his life.
4
exclaim
4:0
ON THE EFFECTS
exclaim in bitterness of heart :
"Almighty
God! thou who difpofeth of the under-
"ftandings of men, deliver us not up to the
fatal arts and ſciences of our forefathers;
"but reftore us to ignorance, innocence and
"indigence,, which alone can make us happy
and are precious in thy fight.
But if the progrefs of the arts and fciences has
added nothing to our real happineſs; if on the
other hand it has corrupted our morals, and if
that corruption has vitiated our tafte, what are
we to think of the herd of inſtitutionary au-
thors who have removed thoſe impediments
which nature purpofely laid in the way to the
Temple of the mufes, in order to try the
powers of thoſe who might be tempted to ſeek
knowledge? What ſhall we think alſo of thoſe
compilers who have. indifcreetly opened a door
to the fciences, and have introduced into their
fanctuary a populace unworthy to approach it,
when it was greatly to be wifhed that all who
fhould be found incapable of making a con-
fiderable progrefs in the fciences, were repulfed
at their first fetting out, and thereby induced
to apply themſelves to employments more bene-
ficial to fociety.. A man who ſhould remain
all his life-time a poor verfifier, or a ſecond-rate
geometrician, might have made nevertheleſs an
excellent clothier. Thoſe whom nature in-
tended for ſcholars, have no need of a maſter.
Verulam, Defcartes and Newton, thofe pre-
ceptors of mankind, had no prcceptors them-
felves. What guide could indeed have con-
ducted them fo far as their fublime genius di-
rected? Ordinary mafters would only have
cramped their abilities, by confining them with-
in
OF THE
41
SCIENCES.
in the narrow limits of their own capacity. It
was from the obftacles they met with at firft,
that they learned to exert themfelves, and thence
to traveife the vaſt field they went over.
If it
be proper for ſome men to apply to the ftudy of
the arts and ſciences, it is only for thoſe who
perceive themſelves capable of proceeding on
their own ftrength. It belongs only to theſe
happy few, to erect monuments of glory to the
human underſtanding. But if we are defirous
that nothing fhould be above their genius, no-
thing fhould be beyond their hopes. This is
the only encouragement they require. The
foul infenfibly adapts itſelf to the objects on
which it is employed, and thus it is that great
occafions always have produced great.men. The
greatest orator in the world was Conful of
Rome, and perhaps the greateſt of philofophers.
Lord Chancellor of England. Can it be con-
ceived that if the former had only been a pro--
feffor at an univerſity, and the latter a penfioner
of an academy; can it be conceived, I ſay, that
in fuch caſe their works would not have ſuffer-
ed from their fituation. Let not princes dif-
dain to admit into their councils thofe, who are
the moſt capable of advifing them. Let them.
renounce that antiquated prepoffeffion, origi-
nally arifing from the ambition of the Great,.
that the art of governing mankind is more dif-
ficult than that of inftructing them; as if it
was more eaſy to induce men to do good volun-
tarily, than to compel them to it by force. Let
the learned of the firſt rank in merit find an
honourable afylum in their courts; let them.
there enjoy the only recompenfe they deſerve,
that of promoting by their influence the hap-
pineſs
呻
​4.2
ON THE EFFECTS
pineſs of a people whom they have enlightened
by their wisdom. It is in this cafe only that
we are likely to fee what virtue, ſcience and
power can do, when animated by the nobleft
emulation, and unanimously promoting the
happineſs of mankind.
But fo long as power only remains on one
fide, and knowledge and underſtanding on
the other, the learned will feldom make great
objects their ſtudy, princes will ftill more rare-
ly do great actions, and the common people
will continue to be, as they are, mean, corrupt
and miferable.
As for us, ordinary men, on whom heaven
has not been pleaſed to beftow fuperior talents;
as we are not deſtined to reap fuch glory, let
us be contented to remain in obfcurity. Let
us not covet a reputation we ſhould never at-
tain; and which, in the prefent ftate of things,
would never make up to us for the trouble it
might coſt, even if we were qualified to ob-
tain it. Why fhould we build our happineſs
on the opinions of others, when we poffefs a
folid foundation for it in our own breafts? Let
us leave to others the taſk of inftuding man-
kind in their duty, and confine our elves to the
diſcharge of our own. We have no occafion
for greater knowledge than this.
Hail virtue! thou fublime fcience of fimple
minds; fay, if fo much induſtry and prepara-
tion is neceffary to become acquainted with
thee. Are not thy principles engraven on every
heart? Need we do more, to learn thy laws,
than to examine ourſelves, and liften to the
voice of confcience, when the paffions are at
reft?
This
OF THE SCIENCES.
SCIEN
43
This is the true philofophy, with which we
fhould learn to reft fatisfied, without envying
the fame of thoſe celebrated men, who have
immortalized their names in the republic of
letters. Let us, inftead of envying them, en-
deavour to make that honourable diftinction
between them and us, which was formerly ob-
ferved to fubfift between thofe two powerful
ftates, Athens and Sparta; viz. that the one
knew what was right, and the other practifed
it.
[ 44 ]
OBSERVATIONS
ΟΝ ΤΗ Ε
ANSWER that hath been made to the
foregoing DISCOURSE.
I
1
Owe rather thanks than a reply to the anony-
mous author, who hath done me the ho-
nour of writing an anſwer to my differtation.
But a due fenfe of my acknowledgments muft
not make me forget what I alfo owe to truth.
Neither can I ever forget that in. holding a ra-
tional argument, men enter into a ſtate of na-
ture, and reſume their primitive equality.
The tract, which I am about to anſwer, abounds-
with demonftrative truths to which I can make
no manner of reply. For, however qualified
I might be to play the fophift, I ſhould be very
forry to be one of thoſe, who have an anſwer for
every thing.
But my defence will not be the lefs eafy; as
it will be confined to a mere compariſon of my
own fentiments with the truths which are objected
to them; for if I prove that the latter do not
really attack what I have advanced, I fhall
think the former are fufficiently defended.
All the propofitions eſtabliſhed by my adver-
fary, may be reduced to two principal points;
the
OF THE SCIENCES.
45
the one containing a commendation of the
fciences, the other treating of their abuſe. I
fhall examine each apart.
It ſeems, by the manner of the anſwer, that
my opponent would have been pleafed if I had
faid more againſt the ſciences than I have really
done. It is fuppofed that the eulogium, I made
on the fciences at firft fetting out, muft have
been much againſt my will; it is, fays my anta-
goniſt, a confeffion forced from me by the truth,
which I fpeedily haftened to retract.
But if this confeffion be an eulogium which
truth hath forced from me, it muſt be granted
that I thought the ſciences as good as i repre-
fented them fo that the author's praiſe of them
is not contradictory to my opinion.
That confeffion, it is faid, was forced from
me: fo much the better for my cauſe; for that
fhews that truth hath a greater influence over
me than my own inclination. But how does
that acknowledgment in favour of the ſciences,
appear to be involuntary? Is it becauſe it is
done with an ill grace? It would be terrible
to judge of the fincerity of authors by fuch new
and unprecedented principles. Is it becauſe it
is too fhort? I could very eaſily have faid lefs
to the purpoſe in a greater number of pages.
Will it be faid, it is becauſe I have retracted it?
I must confefs I am ignorant that I have any
where done this; and all I can reply to this,
is, that I am fure I did not intend it.
It is evident that knowledge in itſelf is va-
luable; a man must give up all pretenfions to
common ſenſe to affirm the contrary. The
Author of all things, is the fountain of truth;
omniſcience is one of his divine attributes.
Το
46
ON THE EFFECTS
To acquire knowledge, therefore, is, in fome
degree, to participate of his fupreme intelli-
gence. It is in this fenfe that I have com-
mended knowledge, and it is in this fenfe that
I commend my adverfary. But he expatiates
farther on the feveral modes of utility, which
the arts and ſciences, may be of, to mankind:
and I ſhould very readily have done the fame,
had it come within my defign. So that ſo far
we are perfectly agreed.
But the queſtion is, how comes it about that
the ſciences, whoſe ſource is ſo pure, and whoſe
end is fo laudable, fhould give rife to ſo many
impieties, herefies, errours, abfurdities, contra-
dictions and puerilities, to fo many bitter fa-
tires, wretched romances, licentious poems,
and obſcene books; and in thoſe who cultivate
them, to fo much pride, avarice, malignity,
jealously, calumny, falfhood, fervility and flat-
✓tery? To this I anfwer, that it is becauſe
ſcience, fublime and beautiful as it is, was not
made for man: his genius is too confined to
make any great progrefs in it, and his paffions
are too ungovernable not to make a bad uſe of
it. It is enough for him to ftudy his duty, for
which nature hath furniſhed every man with
fufficient capacity. My antagoniſt allows, on
his part, that the fciences become hurtful when
they are abuſed, and that many perſons do really
abuſe them. I imagine that in this particular,
we ſhall not be thought to differ very widely. I
add, it is true, that they are very much abuſed,
and that they are always and univerfally fo;
and it does not appear to me that the contrary
is made plain in my adverſary's tract.
I can fafely take upon me to aver, therefore,
that our principles, and of courſe all the propo-
fitions
OF THE SCIENCES.
47
fitions deducible from them, are nothing con-
trary; which is what I endeavoured to prove.
Our conclufions, nevertheless, when we come
to form our inferences, are quite contradictory.
Mine is, that, as the ſciences do more harm to
our morals than good to fociety, it is to be
wifhed that mankind did not fo ardently profe-
cute them. That of my opponent is, that, al-ˇ
though the ſciences are hurtful, yet they ſhould
ſtill be cultivated on account of their being uſe-
ful. I appeal, not to the public, but to the
few real philofophers that are in the world, to
determine which of theſe two inferences fhould
be preferred.
་
I have fome other flight obfervations to make,
on fome paffages in his anfwer; which appear
to me to want ſomething of that juftice of rea-
foning, which I admire in other parts of it, and
which may have contributed to the erroneous
confequence the author has deduced.
The work begins with fome perfonalities,
which I fhall take notice of only when they af-
fect the fubject in difpute: the writer does me
the honour of many commendations; which
doubtless opens to me a fine field; but there is
too little confiftence in theſe things. A refpect-
ful filence with regard to the object of our ad-
miration, has often much greater propriety than
indifcreet commendation *.
My
*Sovereigns, good or bad, will be all indifcri-
minately and ſervilely commended, fo long as there
are courtiers or men of letters. As to thofe princes
who are great men, their panegyrics are more mo-
derate and refined. Flattery is offenfive to their
virtue,
48
ON THE EFFECTS
My differtation, it is faid, hath fomething in
it very furprifing*. This, I think, requires
fome explanation. It is thought very ſurpriſing
alfo that it fhould obtain the prize. It is, how-
ever, no prodigy, to fee very indifferent per-
formances thus honoured. Take the affair in
any other light, this furprize muſt be as favour-
able to the academy of Dijon, as injurious to
the integrity of academies in general; and it is
eaſy to perceive how I could turn it to the ad-
vantage of my own caufe.
I am charged, in a very injurious manner,
with a contradiction between my conduct and
my
doctrine; and reproached for having myſelf
virtue, and applauſe is injurious to their glory. This
I know, at leaſt, that Trajan would have been, in
my opinion, a much greater man, if Pliny had ne-
ver written. Had Alexander been in reality what he
affected to appear, he would never have troubled
himſelf about his portrait nor his ftatue: but would
have left the Lacedemonians to write his panegyric,
or have gone without one. The only eulogium
worthy of a king is that which is heard, not from
the mercenary lips of an orator, but from the mouth
of a free people.
*It is the queftion itſelf poffibly that furpriſes;
being one of the moſt noble and intereſting that ever
was difcuffed, and which may not be ſpeedily re-
peated. The French academy have propofed, as
the prize of elocution, for 1752, a fubject very
fimilar. This is that the love of literature infpires
a love to virtue. The academy very prudently
thought it expedient, not to leave a propofition of
that kind problematical: on this occafion alío they
have allotted twice the ufual time hitherto allowed
to treat the moſt difficult fubjects.
cultivated
OF THE SCIENCES.
49
cultivated the fciences I condemn t. If virtue
and ſcience are incompatible, as it is pretended
that I endeavour to prove, I am afked, and that
with great earneſtneſs, how I venture to em-
ploy the one, in declaring for the other,
There is a good deal of addreſs in bringing
me thus perfonally into the queſtion; as this
perfonality cannot fail to throw fome little
embarraſſment on my anſwers; for unhappily I
have more than one to make. In doing this, I
ſhall endeavour to make preciſion ſupply the
want of entertainment.
In the first place, I have ventured to advance,
and imagine I have proved, that the cultivation
of the ſciences introduces a corruption of morals
among a nation in general. But how could I
venture to ſay that virtue and ſcience were in-
compatible in a fimple individual? I, who have
exhorted princes to invite the truly learned to
their courts; and to put confidence in them,
in order that they might for once fee how far
ſcience and virtue united might contribute to
the happineſs of mankind. The truly learned,
it is true, are few in number: for to be able to
put ſcience to its proper ufe, requires great ta-
+ I cannot justify myfelf here, as many others
may, by ſaying, that our education does not de-
pend on ourſelves, and that we are not confulted
before we are corrupted. I very willingly applied v
to ftudy, and ftill more willingly abandoned it,
when I perceived the diſturbance it gave my mind
without being of any advantage to my underſtand-
ing. I would have nothing to do with a fallacious
employment, in which one imagines he is doing
great things for wisdom, in doing every thing for
vanity.
VOL. I. MISC.
D
lents
50
ON THE EFFECTS
lents and great virtues. Now, though their
union may be hoped for in fome few privileged
minds, it cannot be expected of a whole people.
It cannot therefore be concluded from my pre-
miſes that a man may not be learned and vir-
tuous at the fame time.
2. The perfonal objection againſt my incon-
fiftency of conduct, ought not to be enforced
againſt me, even though it really exifted. I re-
vere the maxims and principles of virtue; of
this my heart bears me witneſs: at the ſame
✓ time, however, it is but too fenfible how far
the love of virtue is from the practice of it. Be-
fides, I am very far from being a man of ſcience,
and ſtill farther from affecting it. I fhould have
thought the ingenuous confeffion, I made at the
beginning of my differtation, might have fecured
me from this imputation; being rather appre-
henfive that I fhould be charged with prefump-
tion for pretending to judge of things of which
I was ignorant. It is eaſy to perceive I could not
be liable to both thefe reproaches at once. Not
that I am certain they will not be both united,
if I do not haften to pafs condemnation on this,
however little I have deferved it.
3. I might quote, on this fubject, what the
fathers of the Chriſtian church have ſaid, with
regard to that worldly knowlege, which they
defpifed, and which they employed nevertheleſs
in their disputes with the philofophical pagans.
I might cite the compariſon they make of the
veffels of which the Ifraelites fpoiled the Egyp-
tians: but I content myſelf with only propofing
one queſtion, as my answer. Suppofe a perfon
ould come with an intent to kill me, and that
I should be fo.lucky as to wreft his weapon from
4
him;
OF THE SCIENCES.
5x
him; is it not lawful for me, before I throw it
away, to uſe it to drive away the affaffin.
Again, if the inconfiftency with which I am
charged hath no exiſtence, it is not neceff.ry
to ſuppoſe that I intended only to amuſe myſelf
with a frivolous paradox; and this appears to
me ftill the lefs neceffary, as the ſtile and man-
ner of my writing, however poor or indifferent,
were not then employed in works of mere
amufement.
It is time to cloſe what I have to fay of my-
felf; one never gets any thing by egotifms;
which is a ſpecies of indiſcretion that the public
hardly ever excuſes, even when we are forced
upon them. The truth is fo independent both
of thoſe who attack, and thoſe who defend it,
that theſe authors ought reciprocally to forget
each other; which would be a means of fparing
them a great deal of paper and ink. But this
rule, fo eaſy to practife with me, is not fo with
regard to my adverfary, and this is a difference.
which is not at all to the advantage of my
reply.
The author, obſerving that I attack the arts
and ſciences, on account of their effects on mo-
rals, employs, by way of reply, the enumera-
tion of the various ufes of them to different
tates; juft as if in juftification of a criminal,
he had contented himſelf with proving, that he
was very well in health, very ingenious, or very
rich. Let it be admitted me, that the arts and
ſciences tend to make us very difhoneft people,
and I fhall not difpute that they are otherwife
very convenient and agreeable: this is an ad-
ditional conformity they have with moſt of our
vices.
D 2
The
52
ON THE EFFECTS
The author goes farther, and pretends that
ſtudy is neceffary to enable us to admire the
beauties of nature; and that thofe of the uni-
verſe expofed, as it appears, to the eyes of all,
for the inftruction of the fimple, yet require a
good deal of knowledge in the obfervers to be
even perceived. I confess that this propofition
aftoniſhes me. Can it be ordained that all man-
kind fhould be philofophers, or is it ordained
that philofophers only can believe in God? The
fcripture exhorts, in many places, to adore the
greatnefs and goodnefs of God, in his marvel-
lous works; but I don't know that it any where
commands us to ſtudy natural philoſophy: nor
do I think that the Author of nature is lefs
adored by me, who know nothing, than by him
who knows every tree and plant from the cedar
to the hyffop, and every infect and animal from
the mite to the elephant.
It is fuppofed that we impute their real effects
to the fciences, when we only defcribe what
ought to be their effects. Thefe appear to me,
however, very different. The ftudy of nature
ought, I know, to elevate the ideas of man to
his Creator; but it only ferves to increaſe his
own vanity. The philofopher, who flatters
himſelf that he hath penetrated into the fecrets
of the Creator, is preſumptuous enough to com-
pare his pretended wifdom to the infinite wif-
dom of his Maker. He approves, cenfures,
corrects, and preſcribes laws to nature and li-
mits to omnipotence: and thus while a philofo-
pher, engaged with idle fyftems, gives himſelf
a world of pains, to arrange this machine of the
world, the poor huſbandman, who fees the rain
and the fun contribute, in their turns, to fer-
tilize
OF THE SCIENCES.
53
tilize his fields, admires, and bleffes the hand
whoſe bounties he receives without troubling
himſelf about the manner in which they are be-
ftowed. He does not feek to juſtify his igno-
rance or his vices by his infidelity. He does
not arrogantly cenfure the works of his Creator,
nor attack his divine maſter to diſplay his own
felf-fufficiency. The impious faying of Al-
phonfo the Tenth could never have fallen from
the lips of an ordinary man; no, fuch a blaf-
phemy was reſerved for the mouth of a ſcholar.
The author proceeds, The curiofity natural to
man, excites in him a defire to learn. I answer,
He ought therefore to lay it under a proper re-
ftraint, as he ought to do all his natural pro-
penfities.
But his wants dictate to him the neceffity of in- .
fruction. In many refpects is is certain the
fciences are ufeful. Yet favages are men, and
perceive not this neceffity. His employments im-
paſe it on him as a duty. They more frequently
oblige him to avocations from his ftudies in
order to diſcharge his duties*. The progress he
makes in ſtudy gives him a taste for it. It is for that
very reafon he ſhould diftruft it. His firft dif-
coveries increase his curiofity to know ftill more. This
indeed happens to perfons of genius. The more
he knows, the more he finds there is fill to learn.
That is as much as to fay, that the uſe of all
the time he has thrown away, is to induce
him to throw away ftill more. But there are
* It is a bad fign for community, that fo much
knowledge is requifite to conduct them. If men
were what they ought to be, they would have no
occafion to ſtudy fo much, to know what they ought
to do.
D 3
but
54
ON THE EFFECTS
but a ſmall number of thoſe men of genius, who
become fenfible of their ignorance in proportion
to the increaſe of their knowlege; and it is for
theſe only that ſcience is good and ufeful. The
generality of little minds, when they have learn-
ed any thing, are apt to think they know every
thing; and there is hardly any folly which this
perfuafion doth not make them commit. The
more knowledge we acquire, the more eafy we find it
to act virtuously. It is plain by this, that the au-
thor hath conſulted his own heart, rather than
mnade his obfervations on mankind. He ad-
vances ſtill farther; that it is good to know
evil, in order to learn to avoid it: affirming
that one's virtue cannot be depended on till it
hath been put to the proof. Theſe maxims are
at leaſt doubtful, and fubject to many objec-
tions. It is by no means certain that in order
to learn to act well, one is obliged to know in
how many ways we may act ill. We have an
internal guide much more infallible than books,
and which never forfakes us in cafe of need.
This is fufficient to direct us always to act
aright, if we will but attend to its dictates. Be-
fides, how can we be under the neceffity of
making a trial of our ſtrength, to affure our-
felves of our virtue, when the principal exerciſe
of virtue conſiſts in avoiding every occafion of
falling into vice?
A prudent man is continually on his guard,
and always diftrufts his own ftrength; he re-
feives all his fortitude for the time of need, and
never unneceffarily expofes himſelf to danger.
The braggard is he who conftantly boaſts of
more than he can perform, and, after having
braved and infulted all the world, fubmits to be
beaten
OF THE SCIENCES.
53
Let me aſk
beaten on the firſt rencounter.
which of theſe two portraits reſembles moſt a
philofopher at war with his paffions.
I am reproached with having affected to de-
duce all my examples of virtue from the an-
cients. There is great reafon to think, I fhould
have found more eminent ones, could I have
gone ſtill farther into antiquity. I have cited
alſo one inftance of modern people, and it is
not my fault that I could find but one. Again
I am reproached, in a general reflection, with
having drawn odious parallels, in which there
is lefs juftice and zeal than ill-will against my
compatriots, and diſguſt againſt my contempo-
raries. And yet perhaps no man living has a
greater affection for his country and fellow-
countrymen than myfelf. As to the reft, I have
but one word of reply. I have given my reafons,
and thoſe are to be weighed. As to my
As to my inten-
tions, thoſe muſt be left to him alone who is
the proper judge of them.
I ought not to pafs over in filence one con-
fiderable objection, which hath been already
ftarted by a certain philofopher. Is it not, fays
this writer, to the climate, temperament, want of
opportunity, default of the object, the administration
of government, customs, laws, and indeed to any
thing rather than to the fciences, that we ought to
attribute the difference which is fometimes remark-
able in the morals of different countries and diffe-
rent ages?
This queſtion is too extenfive in its defign,
and requires a more particular explanation than
is proper for this tract. Befides, it would
require me to enter into an examination of
D 4
thoſe
56
ON THE EFFECTS
thoſe fecret, but actual relations, which fubfift
V between the nature and forms of government
and the genius, manners and knowledge of a
people all which would involve me in fuch de-
Ticate inveftigations as would lead me too far
out of my way. Add to this, that it would be
very difficult for me to treat the fubject of go-
vernment, without laying myfelf too open to
my adverſary; and, every thing confidered, ſuch
reſearches were more properly made at Geneva,
and in other circumftances. I proceed now to
an accufation much more ferious and important
than the preceeding. This I fhall tranſcribe
therefore in the author's own words; as it is
of confequence that I fhould lay it faithfully
before the reader.
"The more a Chriſtian examines the au-
"thenticity of his title-deeds, the more is he
* confirmed in the poffeffion of his belief: the
more he ſtudies revelation, the more ſtrongly
is he fortified in the faith. It is in the holy
fcriptures that their excellence and divine
"original are to be diſcovered; it is in the
"learned writings of the fathers of the church,
"that they have been from age to age illuf
"trated and explained. It is from books of
“morality, and the lives of the faints, that we
"trace their examples, and learn to apply their
"precepts. What! fhall ignorance be per-
"mitted to deprive religion and virtue of fuch
"powerful fupports; and is it to learning that
"a Genevan doctor openly and loudly imputes
66 a corruption of manners! One would be
૮૬
really more aftoniſhed to hear ſo ſtrange a
"paradox, were it not notorious that the fin-
"gularity
OF THE SCIENCES.
57
"gularity of an opinion, is an additional mo-
❝tive for embracing it with thofe, who have no
"other guide, than a fpirit of fingularity."
But let me afk this author, how he can pre
ſume to put ſuch an interpretation on the prin-
ciples I have laid down? How can he accufe
me of cenfuring the ſtudy of religion, when I
have condemned an application to the frivolous
fciences, becauſe they diverted our attention.
from the ſtudy of our duty? And what is the
ſtudy of a Chriftian's duty, if it be not that of
his religion?
I ought, without doubt, to have exprefsly
condemned thoſe puerile fubtleties of the ſchools,
by which, under the pretext of illuftrating the
principles of religion, its fpirit hath been ex-
tinguiſhed, and fcientific pride hath been ſub-
ſtituted in the place of Chriftian humility. I
ought to have more ftrenuoufly blamed thofe
imprudent minifters of the gofpel, who firft laid
their hands upon the ark, in order to ſupport
with their feeble ſcience, an edifice fupported by
the hand of God. I ought to have expreffed my
indignation againſt thofe frivolous fcholiafts,
who, by their wretched punctilios, have de-
bafed the fublime fimplicity of the gofpel, and
have reduced the doctrine of Jefus Chrift into
fyllogifms. But I am at preſent to defend my
felf, not to attack others.
I fee that this difpute is to be decided by ap--
pealing to hiſtory and facts. If I could fhew in
few words what our religion and the ſciences.
had in common at their commencement, per-
haps this might ferve to determine the point in
queftion.
D 5
The
58
ON THE EFFECTS
The chofen people of God never cultivated
the ſciences, nor was that cultivation ever re-
commended to them: yet ſurely, if this ftudy
had been good for any thing, they had more oc-
cafion for it than any other people. On the
contrary, their leaders uſed all the means pof-
fible to prevent their intercourſe or commixture
with the idolatrous and learned nations that fur-
rounded them. A precaution lefs neceffary on
one account than on another; as this rude and
ignorant people would have been more likely to
be feduced by the artifices of the priefts of Baal,
than by the fophiftry of the philofophers.
After their frequent difperfions among the
Egyptians and the Greeks, the fciences were
with ftill greater difficulty brought to take any
place among the Hebrews. Jofephus and Philo,
who any where elſe would have been looked
upon as ordinary men, were reckoned among
the Jews as prodigies of learning. The Sad-
ducees, remarkable for their irreligion, were
the philofophers of Jerufalem; the pharifees,
notorious hypocrites, were their orthodox
teachers*. The latter, although their ſcience
was
* The fame hatred and contempt fubfifted alfo
between theſe two parties, as hath been reciprocally
kept up between the philofophers and ſcholars in all
ages; that is between thofe who make their heads a
repofitory for other people's knowledge, and thoſe
who pique themfelves on having knowledge of
| their own. Set together by the ears the dancing-
mafter and mufic-mafter of the Gentleman Citizen,
[du Bourgeois Gentilhomme) and you will have the
exact picture of the antiquarian and the wit, the
chymiit and the man of letters, the civilian and the
phyfician,
OF THE SCIENCES.
59-
was confined almoſt folely to the ftudy of the
law, profecuted it with all the pomp and dog-
matical ſelf-ſufficiency imaginable. They ob-
ſerved all the ceremonies of religion with great
exactness; but the goſpel informs us of the fpirit
of that obfervance, and the imagined importance
of it. Add to this, that they had but very little
knowledge, and a great deal of vanity; in which.
particular they did not differ moft from the
learned profeffors of modern times.
In the eſtabliſhment of the new law, it was
not with the learned that Jefus Chrift choſe to
entruſt his doctrines and his miniftry. He fol-
lowed in his choice that predilection, which he
difplayed on every occafion for the poor and
fimple. In the inftructions he gave to his dif-
ciples, alſo, not a fyllable is mentioned of study
or fcience, unless it be to fhew the little value
he fet upon them.
After the death of Chrift, a dozen poor fiſher-
men and artificers took upon them to inftruct and
convert the world. Their method was fimple;
they diſplayed no art in their preaching, but an
heart penetrated with the ſubject of their dif
courfe. Of all the miracles by which God ho-
noured their faith, the moft ftriking was the
fanctity of their lives; their diſciples followed
their example, and their fuccefs was prodi-
gious. The pagan priefts were alarmed, and
phyfician, the mathematician and the verfifier, the
divine and the philofopher. To form a proper
judgment of all thefe people, it is fufficient to hear
what they fay of themſelves; that is, not what each
individual, or the individuals of each profeffion;
but what thofe of each profeffion ſay of the other.
D 6
complained
60
ON THE EFFECTS
complained to their reſpective princes that the
ftate was undone becauſe their offerings and ſa-
crifices diminiſhed. Perfecutions were fet on
foot, and the perfecutors thereby only accele-
rated the progreſs of that religion they intended
to fupprefs. As the martyrs were led to the
ſtake, the people flocked to the font; indeed
the hiſtory of thofe primitive times is one con-
tinued prodigy.
Yet, notwithſtanding this, the prieſts of the
idols, not contented with perfecuting the Chrif-
tians, began to calumniate them in which the
philofophers, who did not find their account in
a religion which inculcated humility, joined
them. Innumerable railleries and reproaches
were in confequence ſhowered down on the new
fect. It became neceffary to take up the pen in
their defence. Juftin Martyr* accordingly
wrote
* Theſe primitive writers, who fealed with their
blood the teflimony of their pens, would be thought
at this time of day, very ſcandalous authors, for
they maintain exactly the fame fentiments as I do.
Juftin, in his dialogue with Trypho, takes a review
of the feveral fects of philofophy which he had be-
fore attacked, and renders them fo very ridiculous,
that you would almoſt think you were reading one
of the dialogues of Lucian. In the apology of Ter-
tullian, we fee alfo, how greatly the primitive Chrif
tians were offended at being taken for philofophers.
It would be in fact a very mortifying recapitulation
to philofophy, fhould we enumerate all the perni-
cious maxims and impious tenets of their feveral
fects. The followers of Epicurus denied a provi-
dence: the academics doubted of the exiſtence of a
deity, and the ftoics of the immortality of the foul.
'The
OF THE SCIENCES.
61
The pa-
wrote the firſt apology for the faith.
gans were now attacked in turn; while to at-
tack was in fact to vanquish them. The fuc-
ceſs of the first writers encouraged others, who,
under the pretence of expofing the turpitude of
paganiſm, entered into fubjects of mythology
•
The fects lefs famous had no better fentiments.
Witneſs a ſpecimen of thofe of Theodorus, chief of
the two branches of Cyrenaicks, given us by Dio-
genes Laertius. Suftulit amicitiam quod ea neque infi-
pientibus neque fapientibus adfit. Probabili dicebat
prudentem virum non feipfum pro fatria periculis expo-
nere, neque enim pro infipientium commodis amittendam
effe prudentiam. Furto quoque et adulterio et facrilegio,
cum tempeftivum erit daturum operam fapientem. Nihil
quippè horum turfe naturâ effe. Sed auferatur de bifce
vulgaris opinio, quæ à ftultorum imperitorumque plebecula
conflata eft. Sapientem publicè abfque ullo pudore ac
Sufpicione fcortis congreffurum.
Thefe opinions, I know, are very particular;
but is there one of all the fects, which has not fallen
into fome grofs and dangerous errour? And what
ſhall we ſay of the diſtinction of doctrines fo readily
adopted by all the philofophers; by which they fe
cretly profeffed fentiments directly oppofite to thofe
they taught in public. Pythagoras was the firft who
made ufe of his private doctrine; which he taught
his diſciples after long proof, and with the greateſt ſe-
crecy. In private he taught them leffons of atheiſm,
at the fame time that he publickly offered heca-
tombs to Jupiter. The philofophers in general ap-
proved fo highly of this method, that it ſpread itſelf
rapidly through Greece and from thence to Rome;
as is evident from the works of Cicero, who, when
among his felect friends, turned thoſe immortal
gods into ridicule, which he fo folemnly called to
witness to the truth of his harangues.
and
62
ON THE EFFECTS
and erudition *. In thefe, the authors endea
voured to diſplay their learning and ingenuity:
thus books multiplied, and a relaxation of mo-
rals enfued.
Men were now no longer content with the
fimplicity of the gofpel, and the doctrines of
the apoftles; every new writer muft needs have
more wit than his predeceffors. Every tenet
was rendered more refined; while each of the
refiners tenaciouſly maintained his own opinion,
in oppofition to all the reft. The ambition of
being at the head of a fect univerfally prevailed;
and herefies multiplied abundantly.
Extravagance and violence were ſoon added
to difputation: while the Chriftians, late fo
mild and gentle as to be led by the pagans like
lambs to the flaughter, became, worſe than the
* Clemens Alexandrinus was justly reproached
for affecting in his writings a profundity of profane
erudition, little becoming a Chriftian. It ſeems,
however, that he was at that time of day very ex-
cufable, for acquiring proper information of the
doctrines againft which he was to defend himſelf.
But who can behold, without fmiling, the ridicu-
lous pains which our modern divines take to explain
the reveries of the pagan mythology.
The expediency of an internal doctrine was not
carried from Europe to China; but it took rife there
together with philofophy: and it is to this circum-
ftance the Chineſe are indebted for that multitude of
atheiſts or philofophers which they have among
them. The hiftory of this fatal expedient, written
by a man of knowledge and fincerity, would give a
terrible blow to philofophy, both ancient and mo-
dern. But philofophy will triumph over both rea-
fon and time; becauſe it has its fource in human
vanity, the ftrongest of all fublunar influence.
idolaters,
OF THE SCIENCES.
63
idolaters, the enraged and furious perfecutors of
one another. All gave into the ſame exceſs;
the cauſe of truth being maintained with as
little moderation as that of errour.
Another evil, ftill more dangerous, arose from
the fame cauſe. This was the introduction of
the ancient philoſophy amidst the doctrines of
Christianity. By studying the Greek philofo-
phers, fome perfons imagined they discovered a
relation between their doctrines and thofe of
Chriftianity nay it was even fuppoſed that re-
ligion would be rendered more refpectable, when
cloathed with the authority of philofophy. There
was a time when it was held neceffary to be a
Platonic in order to be ranked among orthodox
Chriſtians, who were very nigh feeing firft Plato
and then Ariftotle placed on the altar, by the
fide of Jeſus Chriſt.
The church indeed once ftood up against
theſe abuſes; which its illuftrious defenders la-
ment in the most pathetic terms; attempting
frequently to baniſh altogether that worldly
ſcience which corrupted its purity. One of the
moſt celebrated popes even carried his zeal fo
far as to maintain that it was a fhameful thing
to fubject the word of God to the rules of
grammar.
In vain, however, were their remonftrances;
borne down by the torrent, they were them-
felves obliged to conform to a cuſtom they con-
demned; moſt of them declaiming in a very
learned manner againſt the progreſs of all ſcience
and learning.
After long agitations, things took at length
a more ſettled turn. Toward the tenth century
the meteor of fcience ceaſed to enlighten the
earth:
ON THE EFFECTS
earth the clergy remained plunged in a ſtate.
of ignorance, which I will by no means juſtify,
becauſe it related no lefs to thofe things which
they ought to have known, than to fuch as
were uſeleſs. By this means, nevertheleſs, the
Church obtained a little more repofe than it
had before experienced.
On the revival of letters, its divifions arofe
again, with more violence than ever. It was the
learned who began the quarrel, the learned kept
it up, and thoſe who poffeffed the greateſt abi-
lities, poffeffed alfo the greateſt ſhare of ob-
ftinacy. It was in vain that conferences were
appointed, to adjuſt the differences between the
learned of each party; while the partizans had
no mind for a reconciliation, nor perhaps any
regard for the truth. Each wanted only to dif-
play his talents at the expence of his adverfary.
All wanted to gain the victory, but none de-
fired inftruction: the ftrongeft impofed filence
on the weaker, while the difpute conftantly
ended in abuſe and perfecution.
God only
knows when thefe evils will have an end.
The arts and ſciences are at preſent in a flou-
rifhing condition; literature is ftill fuccessfully
cultivated: but of what advantage are they to
religion? Let us afk this queſtion of thoſe
numerous philofophers, who pique themſelves
on fuch cultivation. Our libraries are full of
books of divinity, and we are every where over-
run by cafuifts. Formerly we had faints, but
no cafuifts.
Science extends itſelf, and reli-
gion decays. All the world are for teaching how
to act well, but nobody is willing to learn. We
are in fact all become ſcholars, and have ceafed
to be Chriftians.
No,
OF THE SCIENCES.
65
No, it was not by means of fo much artifice
and ſtudy that the Goſpel ſpread itſelf over the
univerſe, and that its captivating beauty pene-
trated the hearts of mankind. This divine
book, the only one neceffary for Chriſtians,
and the moſt uſeful even to thoſe who are not,
need only to be read and reflected on, to infpire
the foul with the love of its author, and a de-
fire to obey his precepts. Never did virtue
fpeak in ſo pleaſing a ſtile; never was profound
wiſdom expreffed with fo much energy and fim-
plicity. It is impoffible to give over reading
it, without perceiving ourfelves the better for
it. O ye minifters of that Goſpel which it
contains, give yourfelves lefs trouble to inftruct
me in fo many ufelefs things. Throw afide-
all thofe learned volumes which can neither
convince nor affect me. Proftrate yourſelves
at the feet of that God of Mercy, whom you
undertake to make me know and love; aſk of
him for yourſelves that profound humility which
you ought to preach to me. Difplay not to me
that variety of fcience, that indecent pomp of
learning which difhonours you, and difgufts.
me. Be you affected yourſelves, if you would
have me ſo; and, above all, give me a proof,
in your conduct, of your practifing that law,
in which you pretend to inftruct me. You
have no need of any other learning either for
yourſelves, or to inftruct us. Do this, and
your miniſtry is accompliſhed; and that without
even the mention of the belles-lettres or of
philofophy. It is thus you ought to practiſe,
and to preach the Gofpel, and it was thus its
first defenders cauſed it to triumph over all na-
tions,
66
ON THE EFFECTS
1
tions, not Ariftotelico more, as the fathers faid,
but pifcatorio more.
I perceive that I am growing prolix; but I
thought it indifpenfibly neceffary for me to
dwell ſomewhat long upon a point of fo much
importance. Befides the impatient reader fhould
confider that it is very eaſy to play the critic;
as a writer may be attacked on account of a
fingle word; from which attack it may require.
whole pages to defend him.
But to proceed to the ſecond part of the an-
fwer, in replying to which, I fhall endeavour
to be more concife, although I do not find that
1 fhall have fewer obfervations to make.
I am told that It is not ſcience, but wealth, that
hath in all ages given birth to effeminacy and luxu-
ry. I did not ſay that the fciences gave birth
to luxury, but that they had their birth toge-
ther, and that they were always infeparable. I
fettle their genealogy thus: the first fource of
evil is inequality: from inequality flow riches;
for the terms rich and poor are merely relative,
and wherever men are all equal, there are none
either rich or poor.
From riches are derived luxury and idleness:
from luxury arife the fine arts, and from idle-
/neſs the ſciences. But riches never were in any
age the portion of the learned. The evil is for
this reafon fo much the worfe: for, as it is, the
rich and the learned ferve mutually to corrupt
each other.
If the rich were more learned, or
the learned more rich; the one would be lefs
fervile in their flattery, and the other love lefs-
to be flattered; fo that both would be the better
for it. This is evident to be ſeen in thofe few,
who
OF THE SCIENCES.
67
who have the happineſs to be at once both rich
and learned. To go on with my antagoniſt.
For one Plato in opulence, for one Ariſtippus a fa-
vorite at court, how many philofophers have there
been reduced to a thread bare cloke aud wallet, or
left without any other covering than their own vir-
tue in penury and folitude! I do not pretend to
deny that there have been a great number of phi-
lofophers exceedingly poor, and am exceedingly
forry that they were fo: nor do I doubt that
their philofophy was for the moft part owing
merely to their poverty: but when I am to fup-
pofe them virtuous, it must be from their mo-
rals, which as the people were not witneſs of,
could they learn by them to improve their
own?
The learned have neither leifure nor inclination to
amafs great wealth. I agree that they have not
leifure; they love fudy. He who does not take
delight in his calling, muft needs be either very
fooliſh or very wretched. They live in a ftate
of mediocrity. One must be greatly diſpoſed in
their favour to make this a merit.
}
A life of induſtry and temperance, paffed in the
filence of folitude, and employed in reading and la-
bour, is not most affuredly a life of luxury and vice.
Not indeed in the eyes of the world; this de-
pends on the heart. A man may poffibly be
compelled to live fuch a life, and yet have a
very corrupt heart. Befides what fignifies his
being modeft and virtuous himfelf, if the fub-
jects of his employment ferve to diffuſe idleneſs,
and to corrupt his fellow-citizens. The conve-
niences of life, notwithstanding they are often the
product of the arts, are not therefore in a greater
degree the portion of the artists. The artiſts never
ap-
6.8
ON THE EFFECTS
appeared to me fo very ready to refuſe them;
eſpecially thoſe who, being employed in arts.
altogether ufelefs, and of courfe very lucrative,
are in a fituation to procure what they may
defire; they labour only for the rich.
As things
go on at prefent, I fhould not be aftoniſhed to
fee, fome time or other, the rich working for
them; and it is the wealthy who are idle, that
profit and abuſe their industry. Again I ſay, I
do not fee that our artifts are fuch fimple, mo-
deft people as they are here deſcribed. Luxury
cannot generally prevail among any one rank
of citizens, without preſently affecting in fome
degree every other. Luxury is a general cor-
ruptor, as well of the wealthy who enjoy it,
as of the poor who covet it. I do not pretend
that it is any evil in itſelf to wear laced ruffles,
an embroidered coat, or carry about one an
enamelled fnuff-box: but it is a very great one
to look upon theſe baubles as matters of impor-
tance; to eſteem thoſe happy who poffefs them,
and to devote that time and pains to acquire
the like, which ought to be employed on more
noble objects. I have no need to be told the
profeffion of a man thus employed, in order to
form a proper judgment of him. I paſs over
that fine deſcription my antagoniſt hath given
us of the learned, in doing which, I think he
is not a little indebted to my complaiſance. He
is lefs indulgent to me; for he not only allows
me nothing that he can poffibly refufe me; but
rather than condemn the evil which I think of
our vain and falfe politenefs, he rather chufes
to excufe the hypocrify of it. He asks me, if
I would have vice fhew itſelf openly? Affuredly
I would. Our confidence and eſteem for the
vic-
OF THE SCIENCES.
69
virtuous, would then be revived; we ſhould
learn to diſtruſt the vicious, and fociety would
be much more ſecure.
Doubtless, I had rather that my enemy ſhould
attack me openly and by force, than that he
fhould come treacherously to ftab me in the
back. How! you will fay, fhall we add fcan-
dal to vice? I wish we did not add deceit.
The maxims lately inculcated about avoiding
fcandal, are certainly very convenient for the
vicious; and if we were to follow them very
rigorously, we might ſuffer them to rob and
murder with impunity; for it cannot be doubt-
ed that a thief at the gallows is a very fcanda-
lous fight. But hypocrify, it is faid, is the ho-
mage which vice pays to virtue. Yes, juft as the
affaffins of Cæfar, who knelt down that they
might ftab him with greater certainty. It is
in vain that the above ingenious faying, is en-
forced by the celebrated name of its author, it
is not on that account the more juft. Will it
be ſaid of a thief, who fhould put on the livery
of a gentleman, in order to rob his houfe more
conveniently, that he rendered homage to the
mafter of it? No, to clothe villainy with the
dangerous cloak of hypocrify, is doing no ho-
nour to virtue: it is to infult her, in profaning
her infignia it is to add deceit and cowardice
to the other vices; and to preclude for ever a
return to probity. There are fome elevated
characters, that mix fomething fo bold and ge-
nerous, even with their crimes, as to betray a
fpark of that celeftial fire, which animates great
minds. But the mean and fervile foul of an
hypocrite is like a dead carcafs, in which there
is neither heat, fire, nor ſpark of life remain-
:
ing.
70
ON THE EFFECTS
•
ing. I appeal to experience, whether there
have not been inftances of many brave and
wicked men, who, recovering themſelves, have
been reclaimed to virtue, and clofed their lives.
in a manner truly exemplary. But no body
ever yet knew an hypocrite become a man of
probity. One might not have unreaſonably
undertaken the converfion of a Cartouche; but
no man in his fenfes would have attempted that
of Cromwell.
I have imputed to the reftoration of letters
and the arts, that elegance and politenefs which
prevail in our manners. This the author of
the anſwer diſputes with me, which furprizes
me much for as he fets fuch great ſtore both
by politeness and fcience, I do not perceive
what advantage he will reap, by depriving one
of the honour of producing the other. But let
us examine his argument; which may be re-
duced to this.
It is not obfervable that the learned are more polite
than other men: on the contrary, they are often
much less fo; therefore our politeness is not the
effect of the fciences.
·
In reply to this, I fhall remark in the firft
place, that it is not fo much the fpeculative
fciences as literature, the fine arts, and pro-
ductions of taſte, that are here intended; and I
will venture to fay that our beaux efprits with as
little fcience as you pleafe, are fo polite, fo
brilliant, fo much the fine gentlemen, that they
would not eaſily know themſelves under that
pedantic and unpoliſhed air, which the author
of the anſwer hath imputed to them. But not
to infift on this point: we will agree, for argu-
ment's fake, that the ſcholars, the poets and the
wits
OF THE SCIENCES.
71
wits are all equally ridiculous; that the gentle-
men of the Academy of Belles-Lettres, the gen-
tlemen of the Academy of Sciences, and the gen-
tlemen of the Academie Francoife, are rude, un-
poliſhed clowns; that they know neither the cuf
toms and manners of the world, but are ex-
cluded by their profeffion from all good com-
pany: the anſwerer will gain little by this con-
ceffion, as he would not be any more autho-
rized to deny that the politeness and urbanity
which prevail among us, are the effect of a
good tafte, which firft took place among the
ancients, and hath been diffufed all over Eu
rope, by the publication of polifhed and agree-
able writings *. As the best dancing-mafters,
have not always the politeft method of perfonal
addreſs; ſo a man may be very capable of giv-
* In treating of fubjects fo very general as the
morals and manners of a people, great care ſhould
be taken not to confine our views to particular ex-
amples as this is the way never to come at the
true ſource of things. To know whether I am in
the right, to impute politenefs to the cultivation of
letters, it muſt not be inquired whether this or that
individual among the learned be polite or not; but
an examination fhould be made into the relations
and connections of literature and politenefs; and
then enquiry fhould be made, among what people
theſe things have been found united or feparated.
The fame may be faid of luxury, liberty, and of
all other things that affect the morals of a nation,
and about which I hear held every day a number of
pitiful arguments. To examine the effects of theſe
things in miniature, and on individuals, is not to
philofophize, but to throw away one's time and ré-
flections: for we may be well acquainted with
Jack and Peter, and know very little of mankind
in general.
ing
72
ON THE EFFECTS
ing leffons of politenefs, without having the
talent or inclination of putting them in practice.
Thoſe heavy commentators, who, we are told,
underſtood every thing of the writings of the
ancients, except their peculiar grace and beau-
ty, have not failed, however, by their uſeful
though flighted performances, to teach us to
perceive and taſte thoſe beauties they could not
tafte themſelves. It is the fame thing with
that agreeableness of converfation and elegance
of manners, which have been fubftituted inſtead
of their primitive fimplicity and purity; and
which have taken place among all nations where
literature hath been held in efteem. At A-
thens, at Rome, in China, every where, have
elegance of ftile and complacency of manners
accompanied, not the ſcholar and the artiſt, but
the ſciences and the fine arts.
The author attacks next the commendations
I have bestowed on a ſtate of ignorance; and
after accufing me of ſpeaking more like an ora-
tor than a philofopher, he proceeds to defcribe
it himſelf, which he does moft affuredly in very
fine colours. I do not deny that he is in thẹ
right; and yet I cannot conceive that I am in
the wrong. It requires only for us to make a
very juft and true diftinction to be reconciled.
There are two kinds of ignorance: the one
brutal and ferocious *, which arifes from a bad-
nefs
* I should be much furprized if any of
my cri-
tics fhould object to the eulogium I have made on
feveral ignorant and virtuous people, by oppofing
to it a lift of all thofe bands of robbers that have
occafionally infefted the earth; and who in general
were
OF THE SCIENCES.
73
nefs of heart, and a defect in underſtanding;
a criminal ignorance, which extends even to
the duties of humanity, which increaſes the
number of vices, degrades our reaſon, debaſes
the foul, and levels mankind with the brutes:
it is this kind of ignorance which my antago-
nift has attacked, and of which, it must be
confeffed, he hath drawn a very odious and
ftriking defcription. The other kind of igno-
rance is by no means irrational, but confifts in
the limitation of our curiofity to the extent of
our faculties; a modeft ignorance, which arifes
from an ardent love for virtue, and renders us
indifferent to all thofe things, which are not
worthy to engage the heart, or do not contri-
bute to make us better. This delightful and
valuable kind of ignorance, is a treaſure to an
innocent mind, that is contented with itſelf,
and places all its happineſs in the conſciouſneſs
of its own integrity; never feeking that vain
and fallacious honour which refults from the
opinion which others entertain of our talents or
abilities. Such is the ignorance I commended,
and which, I pray heaven, may be my punish-
ment for the fcandal I have brought upon the
learned, by my declared contempt for human
ſciences.
were not compofed of the moſt learned men in the
world. I advife them beforehand not to give them-
felves fuch needleſs trouble, unleſs, indeed, they
think it neceffary to difplay their erudition. Had
I ſaid that in order to be virtuous, it was fufficient
to be ignorant; it would have coft little pains to
anfwer me; and, for the fame reaſon, I think my-
felf excufed from anfwering thoſe who throw away
their time to maintain the contrary.
VOL. I. MISC.
E
Let
?
44
ON THE EFFECTS
We
Let us compare, fays my anſwerer, with the
times of ignorance and barbarifm, thofe happy ages
in which the fciences have univerfally diffuſed a fpi-
rit of order and juftice among men. Thofe happy
ages, I fear, will be very difficult to be found';
but thanks to the fciences, we may very eafily find
thoſe in which juftice and order are nothing more
than unmeaning terms, made ufe of to amufe
the people; in which the appearance of thoſe
things is carefully preferved, only that their
reality may be deftroyed with impunity.
fee in our own times that wars are less frequent,
but more just. I do not well comprehend that
war can at any time be more juft on the fide
of one of the belligerant parties than it muſt
be unjuſt on that of the other? We are wit-
neffes of actions less aftoniſhing but more heroical.
There is nobody poffibly will difpute my ad-
verfary's right to judge of heroiſm; but is he
certain that things which may not aſtoniſh him,
may not be aftoniſhing to us? Our victories
are lefs bloody but more glorious; our conquests lefs
rapid but more certain; our warriors lefs violent,
but more formidable; capable of vanquishing with
moderation, and of treating the vanquished with
humanity: men whofe honour is their guide, and
whofe glory is their reward.
I do not deny that we have great men among
us,; it would be eaſy to furniſh proofs of there
being fuch: but this does not prevent the peo-
ple in general from being corrupt. Befides, af-
fertions of this kind are ſo vague and undeter-
minate, that they may be made concerning
all ages; and it is impoffible to reply to them
without turning over whole libraries, and writ-
ing
OF THE SCIENCES.
75
ing volumes in folio to eftabliſh the proofs pro
& contra.
When Socrates declaimed againſt the ſciences,
it appears to me that he could not have in view
either the arrogance of the ftoicks, the effe-
minacy of the Epicureans, nor the abfurd jar-
gon of the Pyrrhonifts, becaufe none of thofe
people at that time exifted. But this flight
anachroniſm does not ill become my adverſary :
he hath employed his life better than in ftudy-
ing chronology, and is no more obliged to
have his Diogenes Laertius by heart, than I to
have ſeen more particularly what paſſed in the
ancient combats.
I admit that Socrates intended only to ex-
poſe the vices of the philofophers of his time:
but I know not what conclufion to draw from
this, unleſs it be that the philofophers of his
time abounded in vices. This, it will be faid,
arofe from the abuſe of philoſophy; but I do
not know that I have faid any thing to the con-
trary. What then! is every thing to be fup-
preffed that is fubject to be abufed! Undoubt-
edly, anfwer I, without heſitation; every thing
that is uſeleſs, and of which the abufe does
more hurt than the ufe does good.
Let us ſtop a moment at this laft conclufion,
left any fhould haftily infer that we ought at
prefent to burn all our libraries, and deftroy
our academies and univerfities. In doing this,
Europe would only be plunged again into a
ſtate of barbarifm, without any amendment of
its morals *. It is with forrow I am going to
* Our vices would remai», fays the philofopher
I have already cited, and we fhodd be ignorant in:o
the bargain.
£ 2
declare
76 ON THE EFFECTS
declare a great and fatal truth. There is but
one ſtep from knowledge to ignorance, and va-
rious nations have taken it alternately from one
to the other; but it hath never been known
that a people once corrupted ever were reftored
to virtue. It were to no purpoſe to remove the
aliments of vanity, idlenefs and luxury; in
vain ſhould we reduce mankind to their primi-
tive equality, the preferver of innocence and
fource of every virtue. When their hearts are
once vitiated, they will always remain fo: nor
is there any remedy, unleſs it be ſome great re-
volution almoſt as much to be dreaded as the
evil it might cure, an event which it is blame-
able to hope for, and impoffible to foreſee.
Let us leave the arts and fciences, therefore,
to foften, as much as may be, the ferocity of
men whom they have corrupted; let us make
a prudent uſe of them, by way of diverting
and amufing the paffions. Let us give fome
fubfiftence to theſe tygers that they devour not
our offspring. The learning of the wicked is
ftill lefs to be feared than their brutal ftupi-
dity; it renders them at leaſt more circumfpect
about what evil they commit, from a forefight
of that which may thence happen to themſelves.
I have praiſed the academies with their illuf-
trious founders, and am ready to repeat their
praiſes. When the evil is incurable, a phy-
fician fhould apply palliatives, and adapt his
remedies lefs to the condition than to the con-
ftitution of his patients.
It is the province of prudent legiflators to
imitate this conduct; and as they cannot appro-
priate to a diſordered people the moſt excellent
fyftem of policy, let them, like Solon, adopt
the beſt they are able to bear.
Europe
OF THE SCIENCES.
77.
Europe at preſent boaſts a great prince, and
what is much more, a virtuous citizen, who
hath formed feveral inftitutions in favour of li-
terature in the country, he hath adopted and
rendered happy by his government. In this,
he hath done an action worthy of his wifdom
and virtue. In regard to political eſtabliſh-
ments, every thing depends on time and place.
Sovereign princes fhould at all times cultivate
the arts and ſciences, for their own intereſt. I
have given a reaſon for this. In the prefent
ftate of things, they fhould encourage them,
alfo, for the intereft of their fubjects. If there
were any fovereigns in Europe, of fo confined
a capacity, as to think and act otherwife, their
fubjects would become poor and ignorant, with-
out being lefs vicious than other nations. My
adverſary has neglected to take advantage of an
example fo ftriking, and in appearance ſo fa-
vourable to his caufe. He is, however, the
only perſon in the world, perhaps, that is ig-
norant or forgetful of it. Let him permit me
then to put him in mind of it; let him not re-
fufe to grant things the praiſes that are due to
them; let him admire them as well as we,
without being rendered thereby more poſitive
againſt the truths he hath attacked.
E 3
A
78.
ON THE EFFECTS
A
LETTER
From Mr. ROUSSEAU to Mr. GRIMM.
Occafioned by the Refutation of his Difcourfe
by Mr. GAUTIER, Profeffor of the Mathe-
maticks and of Hiſtory, and Member of the
Academy of Belles-Lettres at Nancy.
I
I
Return you, Sir, the Mercury for October,
which you was fo kind as to lend me.
have perufed, with a good deal of pleafure,
the refutation which Mr. Gautier has taken the
trouble to write againſt me. But I am not of
your opinion that I am under any kind of ne-
ceffity to reply to it. And there are my ob-
my
jections.
1. I cannot perfuade myſelf that, in order
to be in the right, it is indifpenfably neceſſary
to have always the laſt word.
2. The more I perufe the refutation, the
more I am convinced that I ought to give Mr.
Gautier no other reply than the differtation he
has anſwered. Read over what is advanced in
both, on the fubject of luxury, war, acade-
mies and education; read the profopopoeia of
Louis le Grand, and that of Fabricius; in
A
fhort,
OF THE SCIENCES:
دور
fhort, compare Mr. Gautier's conclufion with-
mine, and you will comprehend what I ſay.
3. My manner of thinking is fo entirely dif
ferent from that of Mr. Gautier, that, if I
were to take notice of all the paffages where we
diſagree, I ſhould be obliged to contradict him,
even with regard to things that I ſhould have.
advanced as well as he; and this will give me.
fuch an air of inconfiftency that I f.ould rather
if poffible avoid it. Thus, for inftance, in
fpeaking of politenefs, he very explicitly de-
clares that, in order to become a man of pro-
bity, it is proper to begin by being firſt an hy--
pocrite, and that falfehood is the means of ar-
riving at virtue. He fays farther, that the vices,
fet off by politenefs, are not. contagious, as
they would be if they prefented themſelves in
the garb of rufticity: that the art of penetrat-
ing the fentiments of mankind, hath made as
great a progrefs as that of difguifing them that
men are convinced they muft place no confidence
in thoſe to whom they do not give pleaſure or
are not of uſe; that every one knows what
value to fet upon the fpecious offers of polite-
nefs; all which is doubtless as much as to fay,
that, when two men are complimenting each
other, and the one fays from the bottom of his
heart, I treat you like an afs, and only laugh at
you; the other anſwers from the bottom of his,
I know that you are an impudent liar, but I will
be even with you if I can. Had I been inclined
to employ the moſt bitter irony, I ſhould have
faid very nearly as much.
4. It is evident from every page of the re--
futation, that the author does not, or will not,
underſtand the performance he hath under-
E 4
taken
80
ON THE EFFECTS
taken to refute. A great conveniency indeed
refules to him from this; which is that by al-
ways replying to his own fentiment and never
to mine, he has the fineft opportunity in the
world, of faying juft what he pleafes. On the
other hand, as my reply is hence more difficult,
it is become alfo lefs neceffary; for who
ever heard of a painter, that when he exhibited
a performance in public, was obliged to exa-
mine the eyes of the ſpectators, and to furniſh
the dim-fighted with fpectacles? Add to this,
it is not very certain that I myſelf ſhould be
underſtood in my reply. As for example..
Should I fay to Mr. Gautier, "I know that
our foldiers are not Reaumurs nor Fontenelles ;
and that it is fo much the worfe for them, for
us, and particularly for the enemy. I know
that they know nothing; that they are grofs
and brutal; and yet I have faid, and I ſay again
that they are enervated by the fciences which
they deſpiſe, and by the polite arts of which
they are ignorant. It is one of the greateſt in-
conveniences attending the cultivation of let-
ters, that in return for the few men they en-
lighten, they corrupt a whole nation." Now,
you fee plainly, Sir, that all this would only
be another inexplicable paradox to Mr. Gau-
tier; who asks me what have troops to do with
academies? Whether foldiers have more bra-
very for being badly clothed and poorly fed?
What I mean by advancing, that in doing ho-
nour to the talents of men we neglect their
virtues with other queftions of the like na-
ture, that fhew it to be impoffible to give an
intelligible and fatisfactory reply to the perfon
who afks them. And I believe you will agree
with
1
OF THE SCIENCES.
81
with me that it is not worth while to explain
myſelf a ſecond time, to be underſtood no bet-
ter than I was the firſt.
5. If I had a mind to anſwer the first part of
the refutation; it would be the way never to
have done. Mr. Gautier has thought proper
to preſcribe to me the authors I am to quote,
and thoſe whoſe authority I am to reject. His
choice is natural enough; as he objects to all
thoſe who depofe in my favour, and is defirous
that I fhould reft my caufe on thofe which, he
thinks, make against it. It would be to no
purpoſe I ſhould tell him that one good evidence.
in my favour is decifive, while an hundred
evidences are of no avail againſt me fo long as
they are parties in the caufe. In vain fhould
I defire him to diftinguish between the examples
he cites; in vain repreſent to him that to be
uncivilized, and to be criminal, are very diſtinct
and different; or that a people really corrupted
are not fo much thoſe who have bad laws, as
thoſe who defpife all law. His anfwer I fore-
fee is ready and eafy. "What credit, will he
fay, can be given to a pack of fcandalous wri-
ters, who have ventured to praife the morals
of Barbarians that could neither write nor read?
How can we ever imagine a people could be
modeft who uſed to go naked? or be virtuous
and eat raw fleſh ?"
Thus we fhould go to difputing, and Herodo-
tus, Strabo, and Pomponius-Mela would be
drawn up againft Xenophon, Juftin, Quintus
Curtius, and Tacitus. Thus engaged in re-
fearches of criticiſm, antiquity and erudition,
pamphlets would fwell into volumes; books
would multiply, and the question would be
E 5
for-
82
ON THE EFFECTS
forgotten. Such is the fate of literary difputes,
which always end with our not knowing where
we are, nor where we fet out from.
·
If I were inclined indeed to anfwer the fe-
cond part, it would be foon done; but nobody
would be at all inftructed by it. Mr. Gautier
contents himſelf, with refuting me by ſaying
yes, wherever I have faid no, and by faying no,
wherever I have faid yes. I have nothing more
to do, therefore, than to repeat, yes and no,
in the proper places, and he is fully anſwered.
Thus in following Mr. Gautier's method, I
cannot answer both parts of his refutation,
without faying too much or too little. I am
therefore refolved to do neither the one nor the
other.
6. I might purfue another method, and exa-
mine ſeparately the arguments, and the ftile of
Mr. Gautier's refutation. If I examine. his
arguments, it is eafy for me to fhew that they
are all fallacious; that the author does not en-
ter into the ſtate of the queſtion, and that he
does not underſtand me.
For example, Mr. Gautier takes the pains to
inform me, that there are vicious people in the
world, who are not learned; and, to be fure,
I must have been in fome doubt whether the
Calmucks, the Bedouins and the Hottentots
were not prodigies of virtue and erudition
Had this writer taken the pains to fhew me a
learned people who were not vicious, he would
Vhave furprized me much more.
He has repre-
fented me always as arguing to prove that fci-
ence is the only fource of corruption among
mankind. If he really thought fo, I wonder at
his complacency in anfwering me at all.
He
OF THE SCIENCES.
83%
He ſays that a commerce with the world, is
fufficient to enable any one to acquire that po-
litenefs, which qualifies the fine gentleman,
from whence he concludes, that it is without:
grounds the honour of it is imputed to the fci-
ences. But, to what, then, muft we attribute
this honour? Ever fince men have lived to-
gether in a ſtate of fociety, fome people have
been polite, and others not fo. This author
has forgotten to account for that difference.
Mr. Gautier every where expreffes his ad-
miration of the purity of modern manners.
The good opinion he entertains of them, may
poffibly do some honour to his own ; but it does
not fhew much knowledge and experience of
the world.
One would imagine, by his manner of writ-
ing, that he had ftudied mankind, as the pe-
ripateticks did natural philoſophy, without ever
ftirring out of their clofets. For my part, I
locked up my books, and having heard men
talk, examined their actions. It is not at all
furprizing that, having taken fuch different
methods of acquiring our knowledge, we ſhould
differ fo much in opinion.. I am fenfible that
the language of the prefent age is unexception-
able, and this is what ftrikes Mr. Gautier.
But at the fame time, I am fenfible that its
manners are extremely corrupt; and this is
what difgufts mẹ.. For, are we to think that
we are become men of probity, becauſe by
means of giving decent names to our vices, we
have learned no longer to bluſh at them.
He fays farther, that, even could it be prov-
ed by facts, that a corruption of morals hath
always prevailed with the fciences, it will not
E. 6.
thence.
84
ON THE EFFECTS
thence follow that the fate of virtue depends on
their progreſs. But having employed the first
part of my differtation to fhew that theſe things
always accompanied each other, I endeavour-
ed in the fecond to fhew that one actually did
depend on the other. To which part of my
piece would Mr. Gautier make anſwer by the
above reflection?
This gentleman feems to take particular of-
fence at what I have ſaid reſpecting the mode
of education at our univerfities. He informs
me that our young people are there taught a
number of fine things, which may poffibly
ſerve for their amuſement when they are grown
up; but of which I muſt confefs I do not fee the
utility, nor any connection they have with
their duty as citizens: which I think ought
first to be taught them. "We readily afk,
"Doth he underſtand Latin and Greek? doth
he write in verfe or profe? But, Is he be-
<come better or more prudent? This, though
"the principal thing to be thought on, is the
laft to be enquired after. Should one fay of
"a perſon paffing along the ftreet, There goes
46 a learned man, and of another, There goes a
૮. good man, the looks and reſpect of the peo-
ple would give fuch preference to the former,
"that a third perfon would have great reaſon
"to call them a parcel of blockheads."
x6
I have faid that nature fought to preferve us
from ſcience, as a mother fnatches a dangerous
weapon out of the hands of her children, and
that the trouble we find in acquiring learning,
is not the fmalleft of her favours. Mr. Gau-
tier had rather I fhould have faid thus. "Know
66 ye people, that nature never intended you
"fhould
OF THE SCIENCES.
85
fhould be nourished by the fruits of the
"earth, the pains and trouble, annexed to the
culture of it, being a fufficient warning to
"leave it uncultivated.' He does not con-
fider that, with a very fmall degree of labour,
men are certain to provide themſelves food, but
that after a great deal of ftudy, it is very doubt-
ful whether a man may acquire underſtanding.
He does not reflect alfo that this is a farther ob-
ſervation in my favour: for why hath nature
impoſed on us uſeful and neceſſary labours, un-
lefs to divert our attention from occupations
that are frivolous and uſeleſs? But it appears
by the contempt which this writer affects for
agriculture, that, if it depended on him, our
hufbandmen would foon defert our fields, in
order to fill the fchools; an employment, ac-
cording to Mr. Gautier, and I believe many
other profeffors, more important to the ſtate.
In reaſoning upon a paffage in Plato, I pre-
fumed that perhaps the ancient Egyptians did
not hold the ſciences in fuch high esteem as
hath been imagined. The author of the re-
futation aſks me, how I reconcile that opinion
with the inſcription which Ofymandias had
placed in his library. This difficulty had been
ſtarted with propriety enough in the life-time
of that prince; but now he is dead, I aſk, in
my turn, where is the neceffity of our recon-
ciling the opinion of king Ofymandias with
that of the Egyptian philofophers? And whe-
ther he had counted, and particularly if he had
eſtimated the votes, of fuch as might anſwer
that the word poiſons was not ſubſtituted in the
place of remedies. But to pafs over that faſti-
dious infcription. Theſe remedies I confefs
are
86
ON THE EFFECTS.
are excellent, and I have frequently repeated
that conceffion. But is this a reaſon why they
fhould be adminiftered inconfiderately, and
without regard to the conftitutions of the fick ?
An aliment may be very good in itſelf, which
in a weak ſtomach may only breed ill humours
and indigeftions. What fhould we fay of a
phyſician, who after having made a juſt elo--
gium on certain nutritive viands, fhould cons
dude that all the fick ought indifcriminately to
feed upon them!
I have fhewn that the fciences and the arts:
enervate our courage. Mr. Gautier calls this a
very fingular method of reaſoning, and fees no
connection between courage.and virtue. This is:
not ſo very difficult, however, in my opinion,,
to be comprehended.. The man who is once.
accuſtomed to prefer life to his duty, will not.
be long before he prefers alfo thofe things,,
which render life eafy and agreeable.
I have faid that ſcience is proper enough for:
great geniuſes, but that it is hurtful to the.
people in general. Mr. Gautier fays that So-
Grates and Cato, both of whom cenfured the
ſciences, were nevertheleſs very learned men;
and this he calls refuting my affertion.
I faid that Socrates was the moft, learned of
all the Athenians, and that for this reafon I ap-.
pealed to his authority: but all this does not
hinder Mr. Gautier from thinking it neceſſary
to inform me that Socrates was learned.
He blames me for having advanced that Cato-
deſpiſed the Greek philofophers; and grounds
his cenfure on the relation that Carneades took
a delight in eſtabliſhing and controverting the
fame propofitions; a circumftance that very une
5
juftly
OF THE SCIENCES.
87
justly prejudiced Cato againſt the Grecian lite-
rature. Mr. Gautier, however, ought to in-
form us what was the country and profeffion of
this Carneades. To be fure, he was the only
philofopher, who hath piqued himſelf on his being
able to maintain the pro & contra of an argu-
ment: otherwiſe what the refuter advances on
this head, is nothing at all to the purpoſe. I
appeal, on this fubject, to Mr. Gautier's eru-
dition.
If the refutation doth not abound with folid
reaſoning, it is made up for by very curious de-
clamations. Indeed the author fubſtitutes
throughout the artificial ornaments of ftile in-
ftead of that folidity of proof, which he pro-
miſed at firſt ſetting out: and thus, while he is
laviſhing his oratory on a refutation, he re-
proaches me for having employed it in an aca-
demical diſcourſe.
To what purpoſe then, fays Mr. Gautier, are
all the eloquent declamations of Mr. Rouffeau? To
aboliſh, if poffible, the vain declamations of the
colleges. Who is there, that doth not feel fome
indignation at being told that we have the appear-
ances of all the virtues without poffeffing one? I
confefs there is a little flattery in ſaying that we
have even all the appearances of virtue; but
M. Gautier ought, fooner than any body, to
excufe this. And why have we no longer any vir-
tue? Becauſe truly we cultivate the arts and
fciences. Even fo; for that very reafon pre-
cifely. If we were still uncivilized, rude, igno-
rant, Goths, Huns and Vandals, we should be
worthy of Mr. Rouffeau's commendation. Why
not? Is there any of thofe appellations incom-
patible with virtue? Will he never ceafe cafting
invectives
88
ON THE EFFECTS
invectives on mankind? Will mankind never ceaſe
to be wicked? Does he think he will ever make
them virtuous, by telling them they are deftitute of
virtue? Can he think they will ever be made
better by telling them they are already good
enough? Under the pretence of correcting their
morals, ought he to fubvert the support of them?
Under the pretence of enlightening the minds
of men, ought we to corrupt their hearts? O,
ye pleafing bonds of fociety, the delight of true philo-
Jophers! Ye amiable virtues! it is by your own na-
tive charms that you captivate our hearts: you owe
not your empire either to stoical affectation, to the
clamours of barbarifm, or to the councils of haughty
rufticity.
I muſt here make one pleaſant remark; and
this is, that of all the fects of ancient philofo-
phers which I have attacked, as ufelefs to vir-
tue, the ftoics are thoſe only which Mr. Gau-
tier has given up to me; and theſe he ſeems to
rank on my fide of the queſtion. He is in the
right, I fhall not be the more proud, for fuch
auxiliaries.
But let us fee if I cannot render exactly the
fenſe of this exclamation in other words. “Ye
"amiable virtues! it is by your own native
"charms that you captivate our hearts. You
"do not ftand in need of all the vast apparatus
"of ignorance and rufticity. You know how
"to penetrate the heart by more fimple and na-
"tural methods. It is fufficient only to know
"rhetorick, logick, phyficks, metaphyficks,
and the mathematicks, to acquire the right
"of poffeffing you."
Another example of the ftile of Mr. Gautier :
You know that the fciences, on which our young
philo-
}
OF THE SCIENCES.
89
philofophers are employed at the univerfity, are logick,
the metaphyficks, phyficks and the elementary parts
of mathematicks. If I once did know it, I have
forgot it, as we all do, when we come to years
of difcretion. Thefe are according to you barren
Speculations. They are barren fpeculations in
the common opinion of mankind; in mine they
are very fertile, and pregnant with many evils.
The univerfities are much obliged to you for inform-
ing them that the truth of the fciences is retired to
the bottom of a well. I don't know that I have
informed any body of ſuch a thing. That fay-
ing is not of my invention, but is as old as phi-
lofophy itſelf. As for the reft, I know that the
univerſities owe me no obligation; and I am not
to learn that, when I took up my pen, it was
impoffible for me to make my court to men, and
at the fame time do homage to truth. The great
philofophers, who poffefs the fciences to an eminent
degree, are doubtless furprized to learn that they
know nothing. I do believe in fact that theſe
great philofophers, who poffefs all theſe great
ſciences to fuch an eminent degree, will be very
much furprized to learn that they know no-
thing. But I fhould be much more furprized
myſelf, if theſe learned men, who know fo
many things, fhould ever know this.
I remark that Mr. Gautier, who treats me
throughout with the utmoſt politenefs, lets flip
no occafion, however, to create me enemies;
he extends his regard for me this way even from
the heads of colleges to thofe of kingdoms. He
does well to juſtify the practices of the world;
to which he is evidently no ftranger.
Indeed Mr. Gautier's manner of writing and
reaſoning in general, fo ill agrees with a man
of
90
ON THE EFFECTS
of his apparent ingenuity, that it has ſuggeſted
a conjecture; which poffibly to you may feem
a bold one, but to me appears reaſonable. He
accuſes me, affuredly without believing it, that
I am not myſelf perfuaded of the truth of the
fentiments I have advanced. Now, I fufpect,,
and that with much more reaſon, that he is after
all really of my opinion. His profeffion and fi-
tuation in life, laid him under a kind of necef-
fity of taking part against me. The modern
decorum of keeping up appearances has cer-
tainly its uſe in many refpects. Thus he will
have refuted me out of decorum, but have taken.
every precaution, and employed all poffible art.
to do it in fuch a manner as not to convince
the reader.
It ſeems to be with this view that he fets
out, with declaring that the caufe he defends,
is interefling to the happineſs of the aſſembly
he is addreffing, and to the glory of that great.
prince under whofe government they are fo for-
tunate as to live. All which is juſt as much as
if he had faid, You cannot, gentlemen, with-
out being guilty of ingratitude toward your re-
ſpectable protector, refuſe to acknowledge I am
in the right. It is, befides, your own cauſe
that I am pleading before you; fo that in what--
ever light you regard my arguments, I have a
right to expect, you will not be very fcrupu--
lous, in admitting their folidity. Now I fay,
that every man, who delivers himſelf in this
manner, ſeems more intent to cloſe the lips of
the judges than defirous of convincing them.
If you give the refutation an attentive perufal,
you will hardly find a line, which does not
feem to indicate my anſwer. A fingle example.
will
OF THE SCIENCES.
91
The victo-
will ſuffice to make me underſtood.
ries which the Athenians gained over the Perfians,
and even over the Lacedemonians themselves, fhew
that the arts may accompany military virtue. I aſk
whether this reflection is not artfully made, to
recall to mind what I have faid of the defeat of
Xerxes, and to make me refer to the clofe of
the Peloponnefian war. Their government, become
venal under Pericles, affumed a new form; the
love of pleaſure extinguiſhed their bravery; their
moft honourable employments became cheap; impunity
multiplied the number of bad citizens: the trea-
fures, fet apart for the ſupport of war, were con-
verted to nourish effeminacy and idleness: but what
have all theſe caufes of corruption to do with the
fciences? Mr. Gautier hath here only recapitu-
lated the heads of a fecond part of my dif-
fertation, wherein I have demonftrated the con-
nection between them. You will remark here,
how artfully he hath fubftituted the effects of
corruption for the caufes of it; in order to en-
gage every man of ſenſe to recur himſelf to the
firft cauſe of theſe pretended caufes. Obferve
alfo, how, in order to engage the reader to
make his own reflections, he pretends to be ig-
norant of what he certainly must know, and
what all hiſtorians have unanimoufly agreed on,
that the depravation of the government and
manners of the Athenians, were the effect of
the fine ſpeeches of their orators. It is there-
fore certain that, by attacking me in this man-
ner, he hath plainly indicated the anſwers I
might make to them.
This is, however, no more than a conjec-
ture; which I will not undertake to warrant.
Mr.
92
ON THE EFFECTS
Mr. Gautier himſelf probably would not be
willing that I ſhould juſtify his erudition at the
expence of his probity: but if he hath really
been fincere in his refutation of my difcourfe, I
cannot fee how he can confcientiouſly affume
all the titles he is inveſted with, as profeffor of
hiftory, profeffor of the mathematicks, and
member of the academy of Nancy.
I am refolved therefore to make no anſwer to
Mr. Gautier. I have given you a reafon why I
cannot give it a regular and ferious reply: and
it might be thought an ungrateful return for all
the commendations Mr. Gautier hath honoured
me with, to employ againſt the ridiculum acri,
the bitter pleaſantry of irony. I am afraid, in-
deed, he hath but too much reaſon to complain
of me in this refpect already: at leaſt he could
not be ignorant in writing his refutation, that
he attacked a man, who ſet too little value on
politenefs, to diſguiſe his real fentiments.
With regard to any thing elfe, I am ready to
do Mr. Gautier that juftice which is his due.
His performance appears to me to be that of a
man of genius and learning. Others may per-
haps think there is philofophy in it; for my
part I find in it a good deal of erudition.
I am, Sir, yours fincerely, &c.
P. S. I have juft read, in the Utrecht Ga,
zette of the 22d of October, a pompous expo-
fition of Mr. Gautier's performance; which
feems calculated exprefsly to confirm my fufpi-
cions. An author, who hath any confidence in
the merits of his own work, would leave others
to write encomiums on it, and confine himfelf
to
OF THE SCIENCES.
93
to the making only a good extract. That from
Mr. Gautier's refutation is managed with fo
much art, that, though it touches only upon
fome trifling objects that I employed only by
way of tranſition, yet there is not a fingle one
concerning which a judicious reader can fub-
fcribe to the refuter's opinion.
It is not true, according to Mr. Gautier,
that the vices of mankind have contributed to
make hiſtory interefting. I may ſet aſide the
proofs of the argument, and in favour of my
adverfary only repeat the authorities.
Happy are the people whofe kings have not been
renowned in hiftory.
When mankind grow wife, their history will be
no longer entertaining.
Mr. Gautier very juftly obſerves that a fo-
ciety, though compofed of men truly virtuous,
could not fubfift without laws: and hence he
concludes it is not true that " if mankind were
not unjust, the study of jurisprudence would be
uſeleſs." It is ftrange that fo learned a writer
fhould confound jurisprudence with law, the
ftudy of the laws with the laws themſelves.
66
.sc
I may again do the fame with regard to facts.
The Lacedemonians had neither counfellors
nor pleaders; their laws were not even com-
mitted to writing. And yet they certainly had
laws. I appeal to Mr. Gautier's erudition, to
determine whether the laws were lefs obferved
at Sparta than in thoſe countries which abound
with lawyers. I fhall not dwell upon all thoſe
minutiæ, which form Mr. Gautier's text, and
are fo formally diſplayed in the Gazette, but
clofe with the following obfervation, which I
fubmit to your examination :
AHow
94
ON THE EFFECTS
Allow Mr. Gautier to be in the right as to
every thing he has faid, and take every thing
he has attacked out of my differtation; and my
arguments will lofe nothing of their force.
Whereas take from Gautier's refutation all that
does not really affect the queftion, and you will
leave him nothing at all. I therefore fay again,
it is not neceffary to make him any reply.
Paris, Nov. 1, 1751.
1
1
THE
OF THE SCIENCES.
95
THE FINAL ANSWER,
OF J. J. ROUSSEAU,
To thoſe who have made Objections to his
preceding Diſcourſe.
Ne dum tacemus, non verecundiæ, fed diffidentiæ
caufâ, tacere videamur.
IT
CYPRIAN. contra DEMET.
This with extreme reluctance that I contri-
bute, by my difputes, to the entertain-
ment of idle readers, who care but little about
the truth: but the manner, in which it has
been attacked, obliges me to engage again in
its defence, that my filence may not be mif-
conftrued by the multitude as a defeat, nor by
the philofophers as want of respect.
I perceive that I fhall be guilty of frequent
repetitions, and that the publick in general
will not excuſe it. The fenfible few, indeed,
will fay, This man has no need to be perpe-
tually fearching after new arguments, and this
is a proof of the validity of thofe he hath already
advanced *.
As
* There are fome indifputable truths, which at
firft fight appear to be ftrange abfurdities, and
which
96
ON THE EFFECTS
As every one of thoſe who have attacked me
hath not failed to wander from the point i
difpute, and to fupprefs thofe effential diftinc
tions I had made; it is conftantly neceffary to
bring them back to the premiſes. I have drawi
up, therefore, a fummary of the propofitions ]
have maintained, and which I fhall maintain
as long as I confult no other intereft than tha
of the truth.
The fciences are the mafter-piece of humar
genius and reafon. The fpirit of imitation
gave riſe to the fine arts, and experience hath
brought them to perfection. We are indebted
to the mechanick arts for a great number of ufe-
which always paſs for fuch among the generality of
people. Thus, if we ſhould tell an ignorant perfon
that the fun is nearer us in winter than in fummer,
or that it is really fet before we lofe fight of it; he
would undoubtedly laugh at us. It is the fame
with the opinion I maintain. The moft fuperficial
readers are the firft to take part against me; the
philofophers are not fo hafty; and, if I have the
honour to have made any converts, it has been a-
mong the latter. Before I ventured to give my
thoughts on this fubject I had long and maturely
weighed it; endeavouring to confider it in every
point of view. I doubt much whether any one of
my adverſaries can fay as much. At leaſt I do not
perceive, in their writings, any of thoſe ſtriking
truths which affect us not lefs with their force than
their novelty, and which are the conftant effects
and proofs of fufficient meditation. I may venture
to fay they have not ſtarted one reaſonable objec-
tion which I did not forefee, and to which I had not
prepared a fatisfactory anfwer. Hence it is that I
am reduced to the neceffity of conftantly repeating
the fame things.
4
ful
OF THE SCIENCES.
97
ful inventions, which have added to the conve-
niencies and pleaſure of life. These are truths
to which I very readily and fincerely ſubſcribe.
But now let us confider the relation which all
thefe Sciences have to morals *.
If celestial beings were to cultivate theſe ſci-
ences, nothing but good would refult from
them: I fay the fame alſo of thoſe fuperior ge-
niuſes which are formed to guide the reft of
mankind. The learned, the virtuous Socrates
* The Sciences make men gentle, faid a celebrated
philofopher, whofe works are fometimes fublime
but alway profound, and breathe throughout a love
for humanity. He hath faid in theſe few words,
and what is fingular, without declamation, all that
hath been advanced to the purpofe in favour of li-
terature. It is true the fciences do make men gen-
tle; but gentleneſs, which is the moſt amiable of
the virtues, is alfo fometimes a weakneſs. Virtue
is not always gentle, but is capable of arming it-
felf with proper ſeverity againſt vice; it is inflam-
ed with indignation againſt improbity.
Et le jufte au méchant ne fçait point pardonner.
It was a very wife and prudent anſwer which a
certain king of Lacedæmon made to thofe, who
commended, in his prefence, the goodnefs of his
colleague Charillus. Good! faid he, How can he le
good, when he knows not how to be terrible to the wick-
ed? Brutus was none of theſe meek, or gentle men.
And who will prefume to fay, Brutus was not vir-
tuous? On the other hand, we meet with many
cowardly and pufillanimous fouls; who have neither
fire nor fpirit, and are gentle only from their indif-
ference both to good and evil. Such is that gen-
tleneſs which a tafte for literature at prefent in-
fpires.
VOL. I. MISC.
F
did
I
·98
ON THE EFFECTS
did honour to humanity. But the vices of the
generality of mankind have poiſoned the moſt
fublime fciences, and rendered them pernicious
to fociety. The vicious deduce from them a
number of hurtful things, and the virtuous
Jittle elfe. If none but Socrates had, piqued.
himſelf on the ſtudy of philofophy at Athens,
the innocent blood of the juſt had not cried
-out for vengeance againſt that nation of arts
and ſciences *
It is a queſtion that will bear examination,
whether the fciences are advantageous to man-
kind even fuppofing that what pafs under that
appellation really merit it. But it would be a
folly to pretend that the chimeras, errours and
falfehoods of pretended philofophers can be
good for any thing. Shall we for ever conti-
nue to be impoſed on by mere words? Shall
we never learn that our ftudies, fciences,
learning, and philoſophy, are only empty mo-
numents erected to human pride, and very un-
worthy of thofe pompous titles given them?
In proportion as a tafte for theſe puerilities
diffufes itſelf over a nation, it lofes that of the
folid virtues: for it is lefs trouble for men to
*Socrates loft his life for having faid exactly the
fame things as I do. In the profecution carried on
againſt him, one of his accufers pleaded in, favour
of the artiſts, another for the orators, and the third
for the poets, and all in the pretended cauſe of the
Gods. The poets, the artifts, the fanaticks, the
rhetoricians triumphed, and Socrates perished. I
am afraid I did the prefent age too much honour,
when I faid that Socrates, had he lived in it, would
not have been compelled to drink poiſon.
diſtinguiſh
OF THE SCIENCES.
99
diſtinguiſh themſelves by prattling and decla-
mation, than by virtuous manners; when vir-
tue is diſpenſed with, if a man has but the art
to make himſelf agreeable.
The more we are internally corrupt, the more
we are externally delicate *; and thus it is that
the cultivation of letters infenfibly gives birth
to politeness. Tafte rifes from the fame fource.
The public approbation being the principal re-
ward of literary labours, it is natural for thoſe
who engage in them, to ftudy the means of
pleafing. And to this ſtudy it is that elegance
of ftile, purity of tafte, the graces of expref-
fion, and urbanity of fentiment are owing.
You may call theſe things, if you will, a
fupplement to virtue; but you never can call
it virtue itſelf ; nay they can even rarely be faid
to accompany it. There always fubfifted this
difference, that he who rendered himſelf ufeful,
laboured for others, and he who ftrove merely
to make himſelf agreeable, laboured only for
himſelf. The flatterer, for example, fpares no
* I never am preſent at the repreſentation of any
of Moliere's comedies, but I admire the extraor-
dinary delicacy of the audience. Every word that
is a little free, or expreffion though rather coarſe
than obfcene, offends their chafte ears and I doubt
not but the moſt corrupt are generally the moft of-
fended. Yet, if we make a comparifon between
the manners of the age of Moliere and thofe of the
prefent, the refult will not be to the advantage of
the latter. When the imagination is once fullied,
every thing becomes an object of fcandal. When
all the good we have left, is in external fhew, we
take more than ordinary pains to preferve ap-
pearances.
F 2
pains
'
Un
..
ON THE EFFECTS
pains to pleaſe, and yet he is productive of no-
thing but evil.
Idleness and vanity, which gave birth to our
fciences, gave birth alfo to luxury. A tafte
for luxury always accompanies that for letter's
and a tafte for letters' often that for luxury*!
All theſe things are faithful companions, be-
cauſe they are the product' of the fame vices.
If experience did not agree with theſe demon-
ſtrative propofitions, it would be neceſſary to
enquire the particular caufes of that difagree-
ment. But the firft idea of thefe propofitions,
is itſelf the effect of long meditation on known
experience and we have only to turn over the
annals of the world to fee how fully it is con
firmed.
J
}
1
ས
1
A LONAIS
In the primitive ages mankind were very ig
norant. How, fhall, we venture, to lay they
were corrupt, before the fourdes of corruption
were openedit: It is to be perceived, sthrough
the veils of fecurity-and rufticity that are throw(f
over ancient times and ancient people that
many of them poffeffed great virtues; and par
ticularly a ſeverity of manners, which is an in-
7
+
Some have objected to me the luxury of the
Afiatics, by a parity of reafoning with thofe who
have objected the vices of fome ignorant nations.
But my adverfaries are all fo unlucky as to miſtake
even their facts, which make nothing againſt me. I
know very well that the people of the Eaft are no
more ignorant than we are: but this does not hin-
der them alfo from being equally vain, or of writ
ing nearly as many books.. The Turks, who cul-
tivate learning leaft of any, reckoned among them
no less than five hundred and eighty claffical poets
about the middle of the laſt century.
{
fallible
OF THE SCIENCES.
101
fallible token of their purity; as alſo fincerity,
hofpitality, juftice, and, what is very impor-
tant, a deteftation of debauchery *, the fruit-
ful mother of all other vices. Virtue, there-
fore, is not incompatible with ignorance. Nor
is it any more its conftant companion; for there
are many nations very ignorant and very vici-
Ignorance is no impediment either to
ous.
good
* I have no defign here to pay my court to the
women; I freely confent that they ſhould honour
me with the epithet of pedant, fo formidable to our
philofophical gallants. I am more coarfe, floven-
ly, unpolished in my principles, and have an utter
averfion to great talkers; fo that I fhall proceed to
fpeak the truth, perfectly at my eaſe.
Man and woman are formed to love, and be
united to each other: but if we except the lawful
union fubfifting between them, all commerce of
love is a frightful fource of diſorders to focie-
ty and to morals. It is certain that the wo-
men alone can bring us back to a ſtate of honour
and probity. But they difdain to receive from
virtue that power and prerogative they would owe
folely to their charms. Thus they act always wrong,
and often fuffer in themfelyes the puniſhment
due to this unjuft preference. It is hardly to be
conceived how, under fo pure a religion, chastity
is become a mean and monkiſh virtue, capable of
rendering every man, and I had almoft faid every
woman, ridiculous that pretends to it; whereas
among the Pagans, this virtue was held in univerfal
efteem, regarded as becoming in great men, and
admired in their moft illuftrious heroes. I might
name three, inferiour to none, and who fetting re-
figion out of the queftion, have fet memorable ex-
amples of continence; thefe are Cyrus, Alexander,
F 3
and
102 ON THE EFFECTS
good or evil; but is only the natural ſtate of
mant.
Now we cannot fay fo much in favour of ſci-
ence. Every learned nation hath been cor-
supted, and this is alone a terrible argument
and the younger Scipio. Of all the rarities in the
French king's cabinet, I would not give a farthing
to fee any but the filver target, which was given to
the latter, by the people of Spain; and on which
they had engraved the triumph of his virtue. It
was thus peculiar to the Romans to fubdue other
nations as much by the veneration due to their mo-
rals, as by the efforts of their arms. It was
thas the town of the Falifci was conquered, and
Pyrrhus, the conqueror, driven out of Italy.
<
I remember to have fomewhere read a pertinent
reply enough, which the English poet, Dryden,
made to a young nobleman, who, reproached him
that in one of his tragedies, Cleomenes, amufe
himſelf with mere idle talk, in a private conver-
fation with his mistrefs, infead of forming fome
enterprize more' worthy of his paffion. Now when
I'am téte a tête with a fair lady, continués his ford-
fhip, I always employ my time much better. I do
'not doubt it, my lord, replied Dryden, but then
'you must confefs that you are no hero.
V
† I cannot forbear fmiling to fee ſo many learned
men as have honoured me with their criticisms,, con-
iftantly objecting to me the vices of a multitude of
ignorant nations; as if this were any thing at all
to the purpofe. Fecaufe the fciences have given
birth to vice, doth it thence follow that ignorance
muft neceffàrily give birth to virtue! This may be
a good argument enough among rhetoricians, or
among the children which they fet to refute me in
my own country, but philofophers fhould reaſon in
a different manner.
{
доведет
againſt
OF THE SCIENCES.
103
against it.
But, as it is difficult to draw com-
pariſons between different nations, on account.
of the great variety of objects that muſt enter
into, and render them defective in point of ex-
actitude, we shall be more certain of our facts,
in purſuing the hiftory of fome one particular
people, and comparing the progrefs of its
knowledge with the revolutions of its manners.
Now the reſult of this examination is, that the
virtuous age of a people hath been always that
of their ignorance, and that, in proportion as
they became ſcholars, artifts and philofophers,
they loft their morals and their probity; nay
have in this respect debaſed themſelves to a le-
vel with thofe ignorant and vicious nations
which are a fcandal to humanity.
1
مر
If it be ftill infifted that there is a diftinc-
tion to be made between them, I acknowledge
it; there is one, and this it is. The barbarous
nations, even thofe without virtue, have yet
always held it in veneration: whereas the learned
and philofophical have by degrees arrived at
the pitch of turning it into ridicule, and treat-
ing it with contempt. When once a nation
hath reached this point, it may well be faid to
be at its higheſt crifis of corruption, and is paſt
all remedy incurable.
Such is the fummary of what I have advanc-
ed, and which, I conceive, I have proved.
Take now a fhort abftract of the doctrines ad-
vanced by my opponents.
"Mankind are naturally wicked: they were
"fo before the formation of focieties, and
"wherever they are not enlightened by fci-
ence, but are abandoned to the faculties fole-
"ly of inſtinct, leading a mere animal life.
F 4
" with
104 ON THE EFFECTS
with the lions and bears, remain plunged in
* Hårbarifin and mifery.
-
In ancient times, Greece alone raïfed it
felf by its genius, to every thing that could
render a people refpectable. The philo-
'fophers formed its manners, and gave it
laws.
"Sparta, it is true, was poor and ignorant,
By inftitution and choice, but its laws were
very defective; its citizens had a great in-
clination to fuffer themſelves to be corrupt-
ed: its glory was not 'built upon a folid
foundation; it therefore foon loft its primi-
tive inftitutions, its laws and its morals,
Athens and Rome degenerated in like
manner. The one yielded to the fortune of
"Macedon; the other funk under its own.
grandeur, becauſe the laws calculated for the
government of a ſmall city were not formed
“to govern the whole world. If it hath fome
<<
1. DA
times happened that the glory of great em-.
"pires hath not lafted long after letters have.
flouriſhed in them, it is becauſe they were,
"arrived at the crifis of diffolution when lite-
"rature began to be cultivated; it is befides,
"the fate of all human inftitutions not. to re-.
11
main long in the fame ftate. Admitting.
then, that a 'revolution in a people's laws
" and morals have had an influence on fuch
ແ great events; it does not thence follow that
the arts and fciences have contributed' `to
"them. On the contrary, it is obfervable that.
"the progress and decay of literature, hath,
"always been proportionable to the rife
"fall of the ſtate.
*
ánd.
This
L
OF THE SCIENCES.
105
+
This truth is confirmed by the experience
" of modern times; having before our eyes an
inftance of a vaft and powerful monarchy
i in which the profperity of the ftate, the cul-
❝tivation of the arts and fciences, and mili
"tary virtue have unitedly contributed to the
glory and grandeur of its empire.
6.6
Our morals are the beſt that can be ima
"gined; many vices are baniſhed from among
"us; and thofe which remain are infeparable
"from humanity, and are by no means the ef
"fect of the fciences. Luxury hath nothing
"alfo in common with the arts; fo that the
"diforders they may occafion ought not to be
રે imputed to them. Befides luxury is necef
"fary in great ftates, and is of more utility
than difadvantage, by employing the idle
and giving bread to the poor.
66
(6
1
Politenefs ought to be rather numbered:
among the virtues than the vices; it prevents.
men from appearing what they are; a necef
fary caution to render them fupportable to
each other. The fciences have indeed fel-.
"dom attained the end propofed by them;
"but they have at leaft advanced, and ftill
"tend that way. Slow as our progrefs is alfo,
"towards the truth, it is nevertheless fure and
" certain.
16
}
}
"In fine, though it fhould be true that the.
"arts and fciences enervate and diminiſh our,
courage; yet on account of the infinite ad-
"vantages they procure us, they are ftill pres.
"ferable to that favage and barbarous virtue,,
"which is ſhocking to humanity."
دود
$7
I paſs over. the uſeleſs and pompous review of
theſe advantages; and to begin with the laft
E 5.
point,
106
EFFECTS
ON THE ་
point, by a conceffion that may prevent a great
many words, I declare once for all that, if any
thing can compenſate for a total corruption of
manners, I am ready to own that the ſciences
have done more good in the world than harm.
Now let us proceed to the reft.
I may, without running any great rifque,
take it for granted that every thing which is
afferted above is proved; fince, of all thoſe
affertions fo boldly advanced there are very few
that materially affect the question, and ſtill
fewer, from which any valid conclufion can
be drawn againſt my opinion. Nay the greater
part of them would even furniſh new argu-
ments in my favour, if my caufe ftood in need
of it.
In fact with regard to the 1ft. If mankind
be wicked by nature, it is poffible, if you will,
that the fciences may do fome good in their
hands; but it is very certain that they will do
a great deal of harm. We ought not to put a
fword into the hands of a madman. -
2. If the ſciences feldom anfwered the end
propoſed by them, there will be always more
time thrown away, than uſefully employed in
their cultivation. And though it were true
that we had difcovered the best methods to effect
the purpoſe intended, the greater part of our
attempts would be as ridiculous as that of a
man, who becauſe he was certain of being able
to work exactly to a plumb-line, fhould there-
fore undertake to dig a well to the centre.
We ought not to be fo much terrified at the
thoughts of a life merely animal, nor to con-
fider it as the worst ftate into which we can
fall;
OF THE SCIENCES.
107
fall; for it would certainly be better to reſem-
ble a ſheep than an evil angel.
4. Greece owed its manners, and its laws,,
to philofophers and legislators. Granted. I
have faid an hundred times it is good to have
philofophers, provided the people in general
did not trouble themſelves about philofophy.
5. Not daring to advance that Sparta had
not good laws, my adverfaries cenfure thofe
laws, as being defective; thus, in order to re-
tort the reproaches, I have caft on the learned
nations for being always corrupt, they reproach
thoſe ignorant people for not having reached
a ftate of perfection.
6. The progrefs of literature is always pro-
portionate to the flouriſhing ſtate of a nation.
Be it fo. At the fame time be it remarked,
that my opponents always talk to me of riches
and grandeur; and I to them of morals and -
virtue.
7. Our morals are the beſt that men, vici-
ous by nature like us, can be poffeffed of.
This may be. We have banified many vices
I do not deny it. I did not accufe my contem-
poraries of practiſing all the vices. They prac-
tife none but thoſe of mean fouls: they are
only hypocrites and knaves. As to thofe vices,
which require fortitude and perfeverance, I be-
lieve them to be incapable of them.
8. Luxury may be neceffary to furnish bread
to the poor; but if there were no fuch thing as
luxury, there would be no poor*.-It employs ·
the
"
1
*For an hundred poor people that luxury nou-
riſhes in our cities, an hundred thousand perish by
F 6
デー
​108 ON THE EFFECTS?
the idle—True, but when agriculture was
reſpectable, none were either poor or idle; and
the world was not ſo full of vice.
g. I fee that my antagonists have the cauſe of
luxury much at heart; which they affect, nes
vertheless, to feparate from that of the arts and
fcience. I will admit, then, fince they will
have it ſo, that luxury ferves to the ſupport of
ftates juft as the Cariatides ferve to fupport the
palace they embelliſh; or rather just as the
beams made ufe of to prop decayed houfes ;
which frequently compleat their downfal:
Learn, ye that are wife and prudent, to forfake
every houſe that is thus fupported by props.
This may ferve to fhew, how eafy it would be
for me to convert moſt of thoſe things, which
are brought againſt me, to my own favour.
But to deal frankly, I do not think them fuf-
-
L
it in the country. The money which circulates in
plenty among the artiſts and the rich, in order to
furnish them with fuperfluities, prevents the circu-
lation of any for the fubfiftence of the hufband-
man and the latter has not a coat to his back,
merely becauſe theirs muſt be laced. The daily
wafte of thofe aliments which ferve for the fub-
fiftance of mankind, is alone fufficient to render
luxury hateful. My adverfaries are lucky that the
falfe delicacy of our language prevents my entering
into thofe particulars which would make them bluſ
for the cauſe they have efpoufed. We muft have
rich fauces in our kitchens truly, and therefore the
fick want broth. We muſt have ſtore of rich li-
quors at our tables, and therefore the poor peaſant
drinks nothing but water. We muſt have our pe-
riwigs loaded with powder, and therefore the poor
want bread.
ficiently
OF THE SCIENCES.
rog
ficiently well eſtabliſhed, to venture to take any
advantage of them.
1
It is faid that mankind were originally wick÷
ed; whence it follows that man is wicked by
nature. This is an affertion of no fmall im-
portance, and in my opinion ought, if it could,
to have been proved. The hiftory of every
people that one might venture to quote on this
occafion, is more in favour of the contrary
opinion; and it requires confiderable evidence
to make me believe an abfurdity. Before thofe
horrid terms, meum & tuum, mine and thine,
were invented; before there exiſted in the world
that fpecies of cruel and brutal men, whom we
call mafters, and that other fpecies of knavifh,
lying men, we call flaves; before there were
men abominable enough to enjoy fuperfluities
while their fellow-creatures were perifhing with
hunger; before a reciprocal dependence on
each other obliged them all to become roguiſh,
The following note is written purely for the
philofophers. The reader who is not a philofopher
is defired therefore to paſs it over.
If mankind are naturally bad, it is clear that the
ſciences will only make him worfe: fo that their
cauſe is loft by this fuppofition. But it muſt be
carefully obſerved that, although man be naturally
good, as I believe, and have the happineſs to
feel, it does not thence follow that the ſciences muft
be good for him for every fituation, in which a
people may be difpofed to cultivate them, neceſſa-
rily indicates the beginning of corruption, which
is haftily accelerated. So that a defect in the poli-
tical conftitution of a people effects that evil, which
might have flowed from nature; and falfe preju-
dices may have the effect of bad inclinations.
fuf
110 ON THE EFFECTS
fufpicious and deceitful; I fhould be glad to
know wherein confifted thoſe vices and crimes,
with which they are fo earneftly reproached.
I am affured that the world have long been con-
vinced that the golden age was chimerical.
Why do not they affure me alſo that the world
hath been long convinced that virtue alfo is
chimerical?
I have faid that the Greeks were virtuous
before they were corrupted by ſcience; nor
will I retract what I have advanced on that
head, although, in confidering the matter
more nearly, I am in fome doubt of the rea-
lity of the virtues of fuch a talkative ſet of
people, as well as about the juftice of the en-
comiums they were ſo fond of beſtowing on
themſelves, and which I do not find confirmed
by other teftimony.
What ſay my antago-
nifts to this?
They fay that the early Greeks, whofe vir-
tue I have commended, muſt have been know-
ing and learned, fince philofophers formed
their manners and gave them laws. But after
this mode of reaſoning, I might ſay as much of
all other nations. Had not the Perfians their
Magi? the Affyrians their Chaldeans? the
Indians their Gymnofophifts? the Celti their
druids? Was not Ochus famous among the
Phenicians; Atlas among the Perfians; and
Zamolxis among the people of Thrace? Nay
have not many writers pretended that philofo-
phy itſelf took riſe among the Barbarians?
According to the reaſoning of my adverfa-
ries, all theſe muſt have been learned people.
By the fide of Miltiades and Themistocles we find,
I am told, an Ariftides and a Socrates. Well,
by
OF THE SCIENCES.
III
by the fide, if you will, for what is that to
me? However it is certain that Miltiades, A-
riftides and Themiftocles, who were heroes, lived
in one age, and Socrates and Plato, who were
philofophers, lived in another: indeed the pub-
lick ſchools of philofophy were no fooner open-
ed, than Greece, already debaſed and degenerat-
ed, had renounced its virtue, and fold its li-
berty.
Proud Afia faw its immenfe forces broken to
pieces by a handful of men, whom philofophy con-
ducted to glory. It is true: the philofophy of
the foul conducts to true glory; but this is
not learned from books. Such is the infallible
effect of intellectual improvements. I beg the rea-
der will be attentive to this conclufion. The
morals and laws of a people are the only fource of
true heroifm. So, then, we find the fciences
have nothing to do with it. In a word, Greece
owed every thing to the fciences, and the rest of the
world every thing to Greece. Neither Greece.
nor the world owed any thing then to the wif-
dom of their laws or the purity of their man-
ners. I beg my adverfaries pardon, but it is
impoffible to overlook fuch palpable ſophiſtry.
•
Let us examine, for a moment, that prefe-
rence, which is affected to be given to Greece
above all other nations; and which feems to
be made a very capital point. I will admire, if
you pleafe, a people who spend their lives in war or
in the woods, who live on pulse, and dwell in ca-
This admiration is, in fact, very wor-
thy of a true philofopher: it belongs only to a
blind and ftupid people to admire thofe who
paſs their days, not in defending their own li-
berty, but in reciprocally cheating and betray-
ve'ns.
5.
ing
112
ON THE EFFECTS.
ing one another, in order to gratify their effe-
minacy or ambition; thoſe who have the pre-
fumption to live in idleneſs on the labour, on the
blood of thouſands of unhappy wretches, their
fellow-creatures. But is it among these barbarous
people, we are to look for happiness? It would be
much more reaſonable to look for happiness
among them, than to look for virtue among
others..
'
3
What a spectacle is prefented us by a world,
compoſed only of husbandmen, foldiers, hunters and
herdſmen. A ſpectacle infinitely finer than that of
a world, compofed of cooks, poets, printers, ar-
tificers, painters and fiddlers. The world foldier,
indeed, fhould be left out of the former lift;
for war is. ſometimes a duty, and was not in-
tended to be made a trade of. Every man fhould.
be a foldier in defence of his liberty; but none
to take away the liberty of others. To die for
the good of one's country, is an employment
too noble to be entrusted with mercenaries.
What, must we then live like bears and lions, in
order to be worthy the name of men? If I have the
honour to have one impartial reader, who is at
the fame time a friend to truth, I beg of him,
juſt to caſt an eye on the prefent ftate of fociety,
and to remark who thofe are that live in it, like
tygers and crocodiles. Shall we magnify the mere
faculties of inftinct, tending folely, to the prefervation
of aur fpecies, into virtues? They are undoubt-
ed virtues, when they are under the guidance.
of reaſon and prudence; and more particularly
fo when they are engaged in the fervice of our
fellow-creatures. I fee in them only, animal vir
tuess little conformable to the dignity of our nature.
The body is exercifed, but the foul is depreffed and
ท
enflaved.
OF 113
>
THE SCIENCES.
enflaved. I may fay with equal juſtice in taking
a furvey of the pompous refearches of our aca-
demics. "I fee in them nothing but ingenious
* fubtilties, little conformable to our nature. The
"wit indeed is exerciſed, but the foul is depreffed
" and enflaved." "It is faid by fome," take a-
"way the arts, and what remains but the exerciſe
"of the body and the paffions ?" Pray, obferve
how reaſon and virtue are conftantly left out of
the queftion. The arts afford thofe pleaſures to
the mind, which are only worthy of it. That is
to ſay, they have fubftituted others in the place ··
of virtue, ftill more worthy of it.
In tracing the fpirit of this reafoning among
my antagonists, we may obſerve, how a palpa
ble enthuſiaſm for the marvellous powers of the
underſtanding, hath reduced that other faculty,
infinitely more fublime and more capable to
elevate the mind, even to nothing. Such is
the conftant effect of the cultivation of litera-
ture. I am pretty certain there is hardly a man
of letters now living, who does not more ad-
mire the eloquence of Cicero than his pa-
triotifm; and hold him in greater veneration
for his pleadings againft Catiline than for hav-
ing faved his country.
ww
My opponents are viſibly embarraffed, when-
ever they are led to ſpeak of Sparta. What
would they not give that fuch a fatal place had
never exifted! They who pretend that great
actions are good for nothing but to be cele-
brated, what would they not give that thofe of
the Spartans had been forgotten! It is really a
terrible thing for them, that in the very centre
of Greece, fo famous for owing all its virtue
to its philofophy, the ftate whofe morals were
most.
;
114
EFFECTS
ON THE
}
moft pure, and whofe government was of longeſt
duration, fhould be one in which there were
no philofophers. The Spartan manners were
al
ways propofed as an example to the other
ftates of Greece: all which were corrupted,
while, virtue exifted only in Sparta. All the
reft of Greece was enflaved. while Sparta re-
mained free. This is provoking. At length,
however, proud Sparta itſelf loft its morals and
its liberty, as well as learned Athens. Sparta
was no more. What reply can I make to that?
2
I
To confider two obfervations more, regard-
ing Sparta; when I fhall proceed to another
fubject. The firft is: After being many times
on the point of becoming conqueror, Athens, it is
true, was at length vanquished: and indeed it is
furprizing it was not conquered fooner, as Attica is
on the whole, an open country, incapable of its own
defence except by Juperior fuccefs. Athens ought
to have been the victor for various reafons. It
was, in the first place, more extenfive and more
populous than Lacedemon. Its revenues were
confiderable, and it had many tributaries, Sparta
enjoyed none of theſe advantages. Athens had,
in particular, by its fituation an advantage of
which Sparta was deftitute; and which en-
abling it frequently to defolate the Peloponese,
ought alone to have conferred on it the empire
of all Greece. It had a large and convenient
harbour; and a formidable fleet, which it owed
to the care of that clown Themistocles, who
did not even know how to play upon a flute. It
is furprizing therefore that Athens, with all
thefe advantages, fhould nevertheless be van-
quifhed. But altho' the war of the Pelopo-
neſus, which ruined Greece, did no honour to
either
(
譬
​OF THE
SCIENCES. +15
either of theſe republicks, but, with regard to
the Lacedemonians, was a direct breach of the
maxim of their fagacious founder, it was not
to be wondered at that, in the end, true cour
age fhould prevail over all other reſources, or
that the reputation of the Spartans afforded
them fuch as facilitated their victory. In truth,
I am ashamed to know theſe things and to be
under the neceffity of mentioning them.
The other obſervation is no lefs remarkable: I
ſhall therefore lay it verbatim before my readers.
"Let us fuppofe that all the ftates, of
"which Greece was compofed, had followed
"the fame maxims as that of Sparta, what res
"mains fhould we have now had of this cele-
"brated country? The very name of it would
"hardly have been known to us. They would
"have difdained to form hiftorians, who might
have tranfmitted their glory to pofterity.
"We fhould have been ftrangers to their favage
"virtues and it would of courfe, have been
4.
indifferent to us whether they had ever exiſt-
❝ed or not. The numerous fyftems of philo-
"fophy that have exhaufted all the poffible
"combinations of our ideas; and which, if
ce
"they have not much extended the limits of
"the human mind, have taught us at leaſt
"where thofe limits are fixed; thofe màfter-
"pièces of eloquence and poefy, which have
66
pointed out all the inlets to the human heart:
"thoſe uſeful or agreeable arts, which ſerve to
"the embelliſhment of life; in fine, the inefti-
"mable tradition of the fentiments and actions
"of all thoſe great men, who have contributed
"to the glory or happineſs of their fellow crea-
"tures: All theſe intellectual treaſures had
·
" been
116 ON THE EFFECTS.
66
"been for ever loft *. Ages would have been
"heaped upon ages, and the feveral generations
" of mankind have fucceeded each other like
"thofe of mere animals; without being of
any advantage to pofterity; leaving behind
"them only a confufed remembrance of their
"exiftence: the world would have grown old,
" and mankind have ſtill remained in a ſtate of
infancy." In anſwer to this, let us ſuppoſe,
in our turn, that a Spartan, influenced by the,
force of the above reaſons, had a mind to re-
preſent them to his compatriots: let us thus
conceive the terms of his diſcourſe, he might.
addrefs to them in the public place of Sparta.
66
* Pericles poffeffed confiderable talents, great
eloquence, magnificence and tafte. He embellished
Athens with excellent fculptures, fumptuous edi-
fices, and mafter-pieces in all the arts. Hence, God
knows how he has been flattered by the herd of
writers. It ſtill remains a doubt, however, whe-
ther Pericles was a good magiftrate; for in the go-
vernment of ſtates, a proper regulation of manners
is of more confequence than the erecting of ftatues.
I fhall not amufe myſelf, to investigate the fecret
motives for the war of Peloponefus; which was the
ruin of the republick: I enquire not whether the ad
vice of Alcibiades was well or ill founded, nor whe-
ther Pericles was juftly or unjustly accufed of malver-
fation. I will ask only whether the Athenians became
worſe or better under his government. I ſhould be
glad to know the name of a fingle individual among
the citizens, among the flaves, or even among his
own children, that he made an honeft man. Yet this
appears to me the chicf duty of a magiftrate and a
fovereign. For the fureft way of making men
happy, is not to adorn their towns, nor to make
them rich; but to make them good and virtuous.
"Reflect,
OF THE SCIENCES.
1,17.
Reflect, my fellow-citizens, on your
"blindneſs and infatuation, I behold, with
"forrow, that you trouble yourſelves only to
"acquire virtue; to exert your courage, and
maintain your liberty: forgetting that moft.
"important duty of providing for the amuse-.
"ment of the idle in future ages. Say, of
"what ufe is your virtue, uniefs to make a.
"noife in the world? To what purpofe is it,
"that you are virtuous, if nobody talks. of,
you? What will it fignify to pofterity
"that you devoted yourfelves, to death in the,,
"fields of Thermopile, for the ſafety of the..
"Athenians, if you leave not behind you, like
"them, fyftems of philofophy, poems, comedies
"and ftatues? Abandon, therefore, thofe laws:
"that are good for nothing but to make us
"happy Employ your endeavours to make
"yourfelves talked on, when you are no more;
"and forget not that if great men are hot cèle-
"brated their lives and exploits are ufelefs."
་
Such, I imagine, would be in fubftance the
oration of our Spartan, if the Ephori would
but give him leave to finish his harangue. The
above-quoted paffage is not the only, one, in.
which we are informed by my opponents that
virtue is of no other uſe than to make the world-
talk. of us. To this I may add their boaſt of
the fyftem's of the philofophers, becauſe they
are immortal and are confecrated to the admi-
ration of all ages. While the notions of other men.
are obliterated with the time and circumſtance that
produced them. With three fourths of mankind,
the one day is effaced by the morrow, leaving not thes
lightest trace behin. May we not fay, how
ever, that there remain fome traces in the teſti-
î
十
​mony
1
-
Um
118
ON THE EFFECTS
mony of a good confcience, in the remembrance
of the unhappy whom we have relieved, in the
good actions we may have done, and in the
eye of that beneficent and almighty Being whom
we have filently ferved? Dead or living, faid
Socrates, the virtuous man is never forgotten by
the Gods. It may be anſwered, perhaps, that it
is not on this kind of reflections my adverſaries
meant to infift: but for my part, I ſay that
no other kind of reflections are worth infifting
on *.
It is eaſy to conceive that, as they fet little
ftore by Sparta, they do not fet much more on
the ancient Romans. It is admitted, that they
were great men, altho' they were capable of doing
but little actions. Upon this footing I muft con-
fefs, it is long fince there were any great men
in the world. Their courage and temperance
are reproached with not being real virtues, but
*The greater part of our modern wits are fond
of difplaying their ingenuity in obfcuring the glory
and generous actions of the ancients; giving them
ſome baſe and invidious turn, and imputing them
to different and vain motives. Prodigious fubtlety
this! to take the most excellent and fimply virtuous
action, and account for it from a number of pro-
bable vicious intentions. But in this our wits ra-
ther act abfurdly than maliciouſly. For my part,
I would readily take as much pains to enhance the
reputation of thofe great men, as they take to de-
tract from it. Nor would it be any forgery to be-
ftow honours on fuch illuftrious characters to the
height of our invention; the greateſt efforts of
which muſt be ftill inferiour to their merit. It is
the province of virtuous men to defcribe virtue in
its moſt captivating colours. Theſe are not the
words of Rouſſeau; but Montaigne.
forced
OF THE SCIENCES.
119
And yet
forced and affected qualifications.
the writer who charges them with this defect,
confeffes a few pages after, that Fabricius def-
piſed the gold of Pyrrhus, and it is well known
that the Roman hiftory is full of examples of
the facility, with which thoſe venerable warriors,
their magiftrates, might have enriched them-
felves; who nevertheless conftantly piqued
themſelves on their poverty *.
With regard to courage; is it not well known
that cowardice never hears reaſon, and that a
poltroon never fails to fly, altho' fure to be
killed in his flight. We may as well, it is faid,
confine a strong and robust man to be rocked in a
cradle, as to reduce great ftates to practise the petty
virtues of petty repub'icks. This is a mode of
expreffion not unfamiliar in modern courts.
had been well worthy a Tiberius or a Catherine
de Medicis; and I doubt not that it frequently
fuggefted itſelf to both.
It
It is not eaſily to be conceived that the moral
world can be meaſured by a furveyor's theodo-
lite. It cannot, however, be affirmed that the
extent of a ſtate is altogether indifferent to the
morals of its people. There is certainly fome
proportion between theſe things; I know not
•
* When Curius rejected the prefents of the
Samnites, he told them he had much rather com-
mand thoſe who poffeffed gold, than be in poffeffion
of it himſelf. Curius was in the right. hofe who
love riches are born to be flaves, and thoſe who
deſpiſe them, to be their mafters. It is not the
power of gold that binds the poor to the rich, but
the defire of becoming rich in their turn; for
otherwife the poor would neceffarily have the power
over the wealthy.
whether
120 ON THE EFFECTS
whether this proportion be inverfe*. Here is
another queſtion well worthy of difcuffion; and
which I believe may be juffly looked upon as
at preſent undecided, notwithſtanding the very
pofitive air, more contemptuous than philofo-
phical, with which it is here decided in a few
words.
This, continues the author, was the phrenzy of
Cato. Biaffed by the hereditary prepoſſeſſions of his
family, he declaimed all his life-time, against the
practices of the world, and fought and died with-
out effecting any thing useful to his country. I
know not whether Cato did any thing or not
for his country; but I know that he did a great
deal for mankind in general, affording it an
example of virtue, perhaps the moſt pure that
ever exifted.
He hath given a leſſon for thoſe,
who fincerely love true honour, to refift the
vices of their age, and to deteft that horrid
maxim which prevails in the world, and incul-
cates the neceffity of following the general ex-
ample of others. At Rome we must do as Rome
does; a maxim that would lead thoſe who adopt
it great lengths, if they had the misfortune to
fall into the company of a gang of highway-
men. Pofterity will one day read with aftoniſh-
ment that in this age of fcholars and philofo-
phers the moſt virtuous of mankind was turned
into ridicule and treated as a madman, be-
cauſe he refuſed to ſtain his great foul with the
crimes of his contemporaries; becauſe he would
* My adverfaries think to impoſe on me with
their contempt for little ftates. Are they not a-
fraid that I ſhall aſk them, whether there ought to
be great ones?
not
2
OF THE SCIENCES.
121
not villainously join with Cæfar and the other
public robbers of his time.
We have juſt ſeen in what manner our mo-
lern philofophers fpeak of Cato. Let us com-
pare what was faid of him by the ancients. Ecce
pectaculum dignum ad quod refpiciet, intentus operi
Guo, deus. Ecce par deo dignum: vir fortis cum
mala fortunâ compofitum. Non video, inquam,
quod habeat in terris Jupiter pulchrius, fi convertere
animum velit, quam ut fpectat Catonem, jam par-
tibus non femel fractis, nihilominus inter ruinas
publicas erectum.
Of other primitive Romans it hath been elfe-
where faid, We admire the characters of Brutus,
Lucretia, Virginius and Scevola. It must be con-
feffed this is ſomething in the preſent degenerate
age. But we admire more, a powerful and well-
govern'd ftate. A powerful and well-governed
ftate! Doubtlefs, and fo do I too. In which
the citizens are not condemned to the exercise of fuch
cruel virtues. I underſtand you. It would cer-
tainly be more commodious to live under a go-
vernment, whoſe conftitution would difpenfe
with our being rigidly virtuous. But if the
citizens of fuch an admired ftate, fhould be
reduced by fome misfortune, either to renounce
virtue entirely, or to put fuch cruel virtues in
practice, and fhould have the fortitude to do
their duty, would this be a reaſon for admiring
them lefs? Let us take a furvey of the ex-
ample, which is moſt offenfive to the delicacy
of the preſent age; I mean the conduct of
Junius Brutus, who fentenced his own fons to
death, for having confpired against the ftate,
at a crifis, when the flighteft finifter accident
threatened its ruin. It is certain that, if he
VOL. I. MISC.
G
had
122 ON THE EFFECTS
}
had pardoned them, his colleague would have
pardoned all their accomplices, and the repub-
Îick would have been undone. But it may be
afked, of what confequence was that? We will
ſuppoſe it then a matter of indifference; that
the ftate had ftill fubfifted; and that Brutus, in
the courfe of his office, was about to condemn
another criminal; might not the culprit with
great juftice addrefs him as follows: "Where-
"fore, conful, do you condemn me? Am I
guilty of a greater crime than betraying my
country! And am not I alío your child?"
I ſhould be glad to know what reply Brutus
could make to fuch a remonstrance.
.
66
Will it be faid that Brutus ought to have
abdicated the confulfhip, rather than have con-
demned his own children? I anfwer, No. On
the contrary, I affirm that every magiftrate or
governor, who fhould leave his poft at fuch a
crifis and abandon his country in fuch a peril-
ous fituation, would be a traitor and worthy of
death. There is no medium in theſe things:
Brutus muſt have been infamous, or Titus and
Tiberinus have fallen by his order, under the
axe of the lictors. Not that I preſume there
are many perfons, who would have had the re-
folution to have acted like Brutus. My anta-
gonifts do not indeed openly declare in favour
of the latter ages of the Roman republic; they
evidently betray that preference however which
they give to the former; and feem to be as
much at a lofs to diſcover the character of the
hero through the rude fimplicity of the firft, as
I have to difcover that of men of probity
through the pomp and ſplendour of the latter.
To Fabricius, indeed, they oppoſe Titus;
but
OF THE SCIENCES.
123
but they leave out a neceffary diſtinction;
which is; that, in the time of Pyrrhus, every
Roman was a Fabricius; whereas in the reign
of Titus, he was the only honeſt man among
them*. I will not infift on the heroic actions
of the primitive Romans, nor the criminal
ones of their fucceffors; but I cannot forbear
mentioning that virtue was honoured by the
former, and deſpiſed by the latter. For it is to
be obſerved, that when honorary crowns were
beſtowed on the conquerors in the games at
the circus, they no longer adjudged the civic
crown to him who fhould fave the life of a
citizen..
Not that this degeneracy was confined to the
Romans. There was a time, when the re-
publick of Athens was rich enough, to defray
the immenfe expence of its public fhews and
entertainments; to reward at a very
to reward at a very confider-
able rate, authors, comedians, and even the
fpectators: this was the very time, neverthe-
lefs, at which the ftate was diftreffed for money
to defend itſelf against the enterprizes of Philip.
To come, at length, to modern examples;
in adducing which, however, I fhall not adopt
the mode of argumentation made ufe of by my
antagoniſts. I muſt yet obſerve, that they
* If Titus had not been emperor, we ſhould
never have heard a word about him or his virtue:
for he would have continued to follow the general
example. He became indeed a man of probity
only, by rifing to a ftation which authorized him
to fet a better. Privatus atque etiam fub patre
principe, ne odio quidem, ne dum vituperatione
publicâ caruit. At illi ea fama pro bono ceflit,
converfaque eft in maximas laudes.
G 2
procure
124 ON THE EFFECTS
procure to themſelves no very honourable ad-
vantage, in preventing their adverſary from
bringing his reaſons, inſtead of refuting them
when brought.
I ſhall not enter into a particular examina-
tion, alfo, of all the reflections, which my op-
ponents have been at the trouble of making, on
luxury, on politenefs, on the admirable me-
thods of educating our children *, on thoſe of
improving our knowlege, on the utility of the
ſciences, the agreeablenefs of the fine arts, and
on other points; of which the greater part do
not affect my arguments; while others either
refute themſelves, or have been long fince re-
futed. I fhall content myſelf with the cita-
tion of a few paffages, picked up in different
places, and which appear to want fome explana-
tion. At the fame time, I fhall be under the
neceffity of contenting myſelf with paraphraſes,
from the impoffibility of purſuing accurately
* It muſt not be aſked, if parents and tutors are
not very careful to keep fuch dangerous writings
as mine out of the hand of their children and
pupils. In fact what terrible diforders might not
follow, if theſe pupils fo admirably educated fhould
come to diſdain all the fine things they have been
taught, and prefer in good earneft, virtue to know-
ledge? This puts me in mind of a Lacedemonian
preceptor, who, being aſked in raillery, what he
would teach his pupil, anſwered, I avill teach him
to love what is virtuous. If I fhould meet with fuch
a tutor among us, I fhould whiſper in his ear, to
take care of what he faid; for otherwiſe he would
have no difciples. I fhould bid him fay, he would
teach them to prattle agreeably, and I would an-
fwer for it he'd make his fortune.
thoſe
OF THE SCIENCES. 125
thofe arguments of which I cannot diſcover
the thread.
It is pretended that thofe ignorant nations,
which have had fome ideas of glory and virtue, are
very fingular exceptions that afford no prefumption
in difcredit of the fciences. Very well! But it is
certain that all the learned nations, with their
fine ideas of glory and of virtue, have ever loft
both the love and the practice of it. That is
without exception, let us proceed to the proof.
To be convinced of this, let us caft our eyes over the
immenfe continent of Africa, which no mortal bath
been daring enough to penetrate, nor lucky enough to
attempt it with impunity. That is as much as to
fay, becauſe we cannot penetrate the continent
of Africa, and are therefore ignorant of what
paffes there, we muſt conclude the people to be
over-run with vices. Had we found out the
means of conveying our own thither, we might
indeed have justly drawn ſuch a conclufion. If
I were a chief of any of the people of Negroe-
land, I declare I would erect a gallows on the
frontiers of my country; on which I would
hang up the firſt European that ſhould attempt
to enter it, and the first native that ſhould dare
to leave it*. America prefents us with fpectacles no
lefs difgraceful to human nature. Particularly fince
the Europeans have been there. There may be
*It may be afked perhaps, what evil a citi-
zen is guilty of, who leaves it with a defign never
to return? In the firſt place, he fets a bad example
to others; and he hurts himſelf by the vices he
goes in fearch of. It is therefore the buſineſs of
the law to prevent both; for it is certainly better
for people to be hanged than to be wicked.
G 3
counted
126
ON THE EFFECTS
counted an hundred barbarous, or favage, pe ple in
ignorance, for one that is virtuous. Be it fo. Let
us fuppoſe we can count one. But of people that
have cultivated the fciences, and have been at
the fame time virtuous, the world hath never
feen even a fingle one. The earth, abandoned and
without culture, is not therefore totally barren and
idle;
it produces poisonous plants, and nouriſhes
monflers. This it always begins to do, in thofe
places, where a tafte for the frivolous arts, oc-
cafions that of agriculture to be neglected. The
foul, it may in like manner be faid, is not barren
and idle when abandoned by virtue. It produces
fictions, romances, fatires, verfes, and nourishes
the vices.
If the barbarians have ever made conquefts, they
have been a 'ways fuch as were unjust. Pray, what
were the Europeans when they first made the
admired conqueſt of America? But, how is it
poffible that a people, poffeffed, and knowing
the ufe, of cannon, charts and compaffes,
fhould commit injuftice! Will it be faid that
the event diſplayed the fuperior valour of the
conquerors? No, it only difplayed their art and
ingenuity; it fhewed that an artful and cunning
man might deduce that fuccefs from his induf-
try, which a brave one deduces only from his
valour. To ſpeak without partiality; which
are we to conclude the moft courageous, the
odious Cortez, fubduing Mexico, by the help
of gun-powder, artifice, and perfidy; or the
unfortunate Guatimozin, ftretched out, by the
honeſt Europeans, over burning coals, and fay-
ing in raillery to one of his officers, who com-
plained at being treated in the fame manner,
"How, Sir, am I upon a bed of rofes?"
Fo
OF THE SCIENCES.
127
To ſay that the Sciences take rife from idleness, is
a palpable abuſe of terms, they ariſe indeed from
leifure, but they fecure us from being idle. For
my part, I don't comprehend this diftinction be-
tween leiſure and idleness. But this I know
very well, that no honeft man can pretend to
have leifure, while there is any good for him
to do; while he hath a country to ferve; while
there are unhappy perfons to relieve; and I defy
my antagonist to find any honeft fenfe, which
can, agreeable to my principles, be given to
the word leifure.
The husbandman, whofe neceffities attach him to
the plough, is not more busy than the geometer or
the anatomift. No, nor the child who is em-
ployed in building himſelf a houſe of cards, but
much more ufefully. Under the pretence that
bread is neceſſary to life, ought the whole world to
apply to agriculture? Why fhould they not? let
them live on pafturage, if it be proper for
them; I had much rather fee men quietly
browzing on the herbage of the fields, than de-
vouring one another in towns and cities. It is
certain that, were they fuch as I require, they
would refemble the brutes more than they do ;
and as they are, they more reſemble mankind.
A ftate of ignorance is a state of fear and want.
We are fo weak that in fuch a flate every thing
Seems dangerous; death thunders over our heads,
and lurks in the grafs that we tread under feet.
When we fear every thing, and want every thing,
what difpofition can be more natural than a defire to
know every thing? We need only reflect on the
continual apprehenfions and inquietudes of phy-
ficians and anatomifts, about their health, to
know whether our knowledge ferves us as a fe-
curity
G 4
128 ON THE EFFECTS
curity against the fear of danger. On the con-
trary, as fcience always diſcovers to us more
dangers than it teaches us how to avoid, it is
no wonder, that its cultivation fhould only en-
creaſe our apprehenſions and make us pufilla-
nimous. The animals live in a perfect fecurity
in this reſpect, and are not at all the worfe for
it. A heifer hath no need to ftudy botany, to
enable her to chooſe her proper food; and the
wolf devours his prey without any apprehen-
fions of indigeftion. In anſwer to all this, fhall
we venture to take the part of inſtinct againſt
reafon? This is exactly the queſtion I would
myſelf aſk.
It feems, we are told this, as if there were too
many labourers, and that we were afraid of being in
want of philofophers. I will afk, in my turn, whe-
ther there be any fear that the lucrative profeſſions
Should want profeffors? It is bad to know the in-
fluence of avarice. Every thing, from our very in-
fancy, induces us to the ufeful profeffions, and what
prepoffeffions have we not to overcome? What forti-
tude doth it not require, to dare to be only a Def-
cartes, a Newton, or a Locke ?
Leibnitz and Newton died in poffeffion of
wealth and honours; of which they merited
ftill more. Shall we ſay that it was from their
moderation they were not elevated to the rank
of ploughmen? I am well enough aware of the
influence of avarice to know that every thing
induces us to the lucrative profeffions; and
therefore, I fay, draws us off from the uſeful
ones.
An Hebert, a Lafrenaye, a Dulac, and
a Martin, get more money by their frivolous
arts in one day, than the huſbandmen of a
whole province can earn in a month. I might
propoſe
OF THE SCIENCES.
129
propoſe a very fingular problem with regard to
the paffage I am now confidering; this is, to
take away the three firft lines, which are quoted
from me, and then to leave any one to gueſs
whether it is cited from my writings or thoſe of
my antagoniſts.
Good books are the only fecurity of weak minds,
that is to fay, of three fourths of mankind, against
the contagion of bad example. In the firft place,
the learned fet many more bad examples than they
write good books. Secondly, there will be al-
ways more bad books than good; and thirdly,
the beft directors which fimple honeft people
can follow, are reafon and confcience. Paucis
eft opus litteris ad mentem bonam. As to thoſe
whofe intellects are dull and whofe confcience
is hard, reading will never be of any ufe to
them. In fhort, there are no books in the
world but thoſe of religion, that are good for
any thing to any body, and theſe are thoſe only
which I have not condemned.
It is attempted to make us regret the want of the
education of the Perfians. Pleaſe to obferve that
it is Plato who attempts this. I thought it ne-
ceffary to ſkreen myſelf behind the authority of
that philofopher, but I fee that nothing cam
fkreen me from the animofity of my adverfaries.
Tros Rutulufve fuat: they had rather wound one
another, than give me the leaſt quarter; and
thus do themfelves more miſchief than me*.
*
This
I have had in my head a new fcheme of defence,
and I will not answer for it, that I fhall not be,
fome time or other, weak enough to execute it.
This defence will be compofed only of arguments
G 5
taken
133
ON THE EFFECTS
This education was founded, it is faid, on igno-
rant and barbarous principles, becauſe it preſcribed
peculiar mafters for the exercife of every virtue,
whereas virtue is indivifible; because it is to be
inftilled, not to be taught: the buſineſs of education
being to excite our love to the practice of it, and
not merely to demonftrate its theory. How many
things fuggeft themſelves, in anfwer to this paf-
fage! but we muſt not do the, reader fo much
injury as to fay here, every thing that is to be
faid. I fhall confine myſelf to two remarks.
The firft is, that, whoever would bring up a
child, does not begin with telling him, it is ne-
ceffary to practice virtue. He teaches him firft
to be true, to be temperate, to be courageous,
&c. telling him, that in the union of all theſe
confifts virtue. Secondly, that, it is we who
content ourſelves with demonftrating the theory
of virtue; but the Perfians taught the prac-
tice.
All the reproaches, which have been caft on phi-
lofophy, are so many attacks on the human under-
Standing, I confefs it; or rather on the Author of
nature, who made us fuch as we are. If he hath
made us philofophers, why fhould we take fuch
a deal of pains to make ourſelves fo? Philofo-
phers are but men, and if they are mistaken, where
is the wonder? No wonder at all: the wonder
will be when they are not mistaken. Let us
pity them, profit by their errors, and correct our-
taken from the philofophers; whence it will follow,
that if their reaſons are bad, they are all mere bab-
blers, as I affirm; and, on the contrary, if they
are good, I fhall have gained my cauſe.
7
felves
OF THE SCIENCES. 131
felves. Yes, let us correct ourfelves, and phi-
lofophize no longer. There are a thouſand ways
to errour, and but one that leads to the truth. This
is exactly what I myſelf have faid. Ought we
to be furprised that fo many mistakes have been com-
mitted in fearch of this, and that it hath been dif-
covered fo late. Is it then true that we have
found it out at laſt?
An opinion of Socrates, is produced against us,
which affects the fophifts, not the learned; not the
fciences, but the abufe which may be made of them.
What could be required more by one who main-
tains that, all our fciences are mere abuſes;
and all our fages in reality fophifts? Socrates
was the chief of a fect, who taught the art of
doubting. My veneration for Socrates would be
greatly diminiſhed, if I could imagine he had
the ridiculous vanity of fetting himſelf up for
the chief of a fect. And he justly cenfured the
pride of thoſe who pretended to know every thing.
That is to fay the pride of all the learned.
True Science is very far from any fuch affectation.
That is true; but it is of our ſcience that I am
fpeaking. Socrates is here a witness against him-
felf. This feems difficult to comprehend. The
moft learned of the Greeks did not blush for his ig-
norance. The moſt learned of the Greeks knew
nothing by his own confeffion. Draw what
conclufion, therefore, you pleaſe concerning
the reft. The fciences have not, therefore, their
fource in our vices. Our fciences have, there-
fore, their fource in our vices. They do not,
therefore, all take their rife in human pride. I
have already explained myſelf on this head.
Vain declamation, which can only deceive prejudiced
G 6
minds !
132 ON THE EFFECTS
minds! I know not what anſwer to make to
this.
In fpeaking of the bounds of luxury, it is
pretended that no inferences fhould be drawn
from paſt times to the prefent. When men
univerfally went naked, he who firſt put on wooden
fhoes was deemed a voluptuary. The outcry againſt
corruption hath been conftantly tranfmitted from age
to age, without any idea being fixed to the term. It
is very true that, till the prefent age, luxury,
though frequently prevalent, hath been looked
upon at leaſt, as the fatal fource of numerous
evils. It was reſerved for M. Melon to be the
firſt publiſher of the contrary obnoxious doctrine;
the novelty of which acquired him more followers
than the folidity of his reafons. But I am not
afraid to ſtand up alone, to combat theſe odious
maxims, which tend but to the debaſement and
deftruction of virtue, and to add to the number
of the rich and the miferable, that is to fay, to
that of the vicious,
It was thought I fhould be greatly embar-
raffed, by being afked, "To what limits I
"would have luxury confined?" My opinion
is that it is altogether unneceffary. Every thing
is the fource of evil beyond what is phyfically
neceffary. Nature itſelf hath given us but too
many wants; and it is, at beſt, a very great
imprudence, to multiply them without an ab-
folute neceffity, and by fuch means to lay the
foul under ftill greater dependence. It was
not without reaſon that Socrates, looking over
a variety of merchandize and manufactures, con-
gratulated himſelf on his having no need of any
of thofe things. It is indeed an hundred to one,
that
OF THE SCIENCES.
133
that the firſt man who wore wooden fhoes was
culpable in fo doing, except he had got
fore feet. As for us, we are too much obliged
to wear fhoes, not to be excufed from practiſing
virtue.
I have elſewhere ſaid that I do not propofe to
fubvert the actual ftate of fociety, to burn li-
braries, or deftroy colleges and academies. To
this I add here, that I as little propoſe to force
mankind to content themſelves with fimple ne-
ceffaries. I am very fenfible I ought not to form
the chimerical project of making people honeft:
but I thought it my duty to fay, without dif-
guife, what the truth demanded of me. I have
feen the evil, and have endeavoured to trace the
cauſes. Others more bold, or lefs prudent,
may attempt to preſcribe the remedy.
But I am weary and lay down my pen; to
be taken up no more in this tedious diſpute. I
underſtand that a great number of authors*
have employed themſelves in endeavouring to
refute me. I am very forry that I cannot an-
fwer them all; but I conceive that I have here
fhewn, by the choice of thoſe I have fe-
lected for this purpoſet, that it is not fear
which prevents my replying to the reſt.
I en-
*There has been hardly a critical pamphlet,
publiſhed for the amufement of youth, in which
the writers have not done me the honour to men-
tion me.
I have not read them, indeed, and cer-
tainly never fhall: but nothing fhall hinder me
from fetting all the ftore by them which they de-
ſerve; and I doubt not the whole is mighty plea-
fant.
† I am informed that Mr. Gautier has done me
2
the
134
ON THE EFFECTS, &c.
I endeavoured to erect a monument, which
owes not either its force or folidity to art.
Truth alone, to which I have confecrated it,
ought to render it immoveable. And if I have
once again repulfed the attacks which have
been made on it, it hath been more with a
view to do myſelf honour in defending it, than
to afford it a fupport, of which it ftood in
no need.
Be it permitted me, in taking leave of the
reader, to proteſt to him, that nothing but the
love of humanity and virtue gave rife to this
reply; and that the bitterneſs of my invectives
againſt vices to which I have been a witneſs,
hath arifen only from the grief with which
they affected me, and my ardent defire to fee
mankind happy, and, above all, more worthy
of being fo.
the honour of a reply, though I did not anſwer him,
but publifhed my reafons for not doing it. Pro-
bably Mr. Gautier did not think thoſe reaſons va-
lid, as he hath taken the pains to refute them. I
fee that I must give up the point to Mr. Gautier, and
readily confefs I was in the wrong in not anſwering
him. So that in this we are agreed. I regret in-
deed that I cannot repair that neglect; as it is un-
happily now too late, and nobody would know
what I was diſputing about.
*************** **
A
DISSERTATION
ON THE
ORIGIN and FOUNDATION
OF THE
Inequality of Mankind.
Non in depravatis, fed in his quæ bene fecundum naturam
fe habent, confiderandum eft quid fit naturale.
Arift. Politic. L. 2.
**** ****
**
**
[ 137 ]
DEDICATION
TO THE
Republick of GENEVA.
MOST HONOURABLE, MAGNIFICENT,
AND SOVEREIGN LORDS,
CONV
ONVINCED that it belongs only to a
virtuous citizen to prefent his country thoſe
acknowledgments it may become her to receive,
I have been for thirty years paft, endeavouring
to render myſelf worthy to offer it fome publick
homage. In the mean time, a fortunate oc-
cafion ſupplying in fome degree the infufficiency
of my efforts, I have prefumed rather to follow
the dictates of zeal, in embracing it, than to wait
till I ſhould be authorized by merit. Having
had the happineſs to be born a fubject of Ge-
neva, how could I reflect on the natural equality
of mankind, and that inequality which fociety
hath introduced among them, without admiring
the profound wiſdom by which both the one and
the
138
DEDICATION.
the other are happily combined in this ftate,
and contribute, in a manner the moſt conform-
able to the law of nature, and the most favour-
able to community, to the fecurity of publick
order and the happinefs of individuals? In my
reſearches after the best and moft fenfible max-
ims, which might be laid down for the confti-
tution of government, I was furprized to find
them all united in the compofition of yours; fo
that had I not been a fellow-citizen, I fhould
have thought it indifpenfible in me to preſent ſuch
a picture of human fociety to that people, who
of all others, feem to be poffeffed of its greateſt
advantages, and to have beft guarded against its
abuſes.
Had I been to make choice of the place of my
birth, I ſhould have preferred a community pro-
portioned in its extent to the limits of the hu-
man faculties; that is to the poffibility of being
well governed: in which every perfon being
capable of his employments, no one ſhould be
obliged to commit to others the truft he ought
to diſcharge himſelf: a ftate in which its indivi-
duals might be fo well known to each other,
that neither the fecret machinations of vice, nor
the modeſty of virtue fhould be able to eſcape
the notice and judgment of the publick; and in
which the agreeable cuftom of feeing and know-
ing each other, fhould occafion the love of
their country to be rather an affection for its
inhabitants than for its foil.
I ſhould have chofen for my birth-place a
country, in which the intereft of the fovereign
• could not be feparated from that of the fubject;
to the end that all the motions of the machine
10མv .
*
of
DEDICATION.
139
of government might ever tend to the general
happineſs. And as this could not be the cafe,
unleſs where the fovereignty is lodged in the
people, it follows that I fhould have preferred
a prudently-tempered democracy.
I fhould have been defirous to live and die
free: that is, fo far fubject to the laws that nei-
ther I, nor any other body elfe, fhould have it
in our power to caft off their honourable yoke :
that agreeable and falutary yoke to which the
haughtieft necks bend the more tractably, as
they are not formed to bear any other.
I ſhould have defired, therefore, that no per-
fon within the fſtate ſhould be able to ſay he was
above the laws; nor that any perfon without,
fhould be able to dictate fuch as the ſtate ſhould
be obliged to obey. For, be the conftitution
of a government what it may, if there be a
fingle member of it, who is not fubject to the
laws, all the reft are neceffarily at his difcre-
tion.
And if there be a national chief within,
and a foreign chief without, however they may
divide their authority, it is impoffible that both
fhould be duly obeyed and the ftate well go-
verned.
I ſhould not have chofen to live in a repub-
lick of recent inftitution, however excellent its
laws; for fear the government being other-
wife framed than circumftances might require,
it might either difagree with the new ſubjects,
or the fubjects difagree with the new govern-
ment; in which cafe the ftate might be fhaken
to pieces and deftroyed almoft as foon as
founded.
For it is with liberty as it is with ſolid and
fucculent aliments, or with generous wines,
proper
140
DEDICATION.
proper to nourish and fortify robuft conftitu-
tions accuſtomed to them, but pernicious, def-
tructive and intoxicating to weak and delicate
temperaments, to which they are not adapted.
A people once accuſtomed to maſters, are not
in a fituation to live without them. If they
attempt at any time to ſhake off their fetters,
they feldom gain any thing in point of free-
dom; for, by miftaking licentiouſneſs for li-
berty, to which it is diametrically oppofed,
they generally become greater flaves to fome
impoftor, who loads them with freſh chains.
The Romans themſelves, an example for
every fucceeding free people, were incapable of
governing themſelves on their expulfion of the
Tarquins. Debafed by flavery, and the igno-
minious taſk impofed on them, they were at firft
no better than a headſtrong mob, which it was
requifite to manage and govern with the greateſt
wifdom; fo that, being accuftomed by degrees
to breathe the ſalutary air of liberty, their minds
which had been enervated or rather brutalized
under the burthen of flavery, might gradually
acquire that feverity of manners and fpirit of
fortitude which rendered them at length the
moft refpectable nation upon earth.
I fhould have fearched out for my country,
therefore, fome peaceful and happy republick,
whofe antiquity loft itſelf, as it were, in the
obfcurity of time: one that had experienced
only fuch falutary fhocks as ferved to diſplay
and confirm the courage and patriotiſm of its
fubjects; and whofe citizens, long accuftom-
ed to a prudent independence, were not only
actually free, but worthy of their freedom.
I fhould
DEDICATION.
141
I ſhould have made choice of a country,
diverted, by a fortunate impotence, from the
brutal love of conqueft; and ſecured, by a ftill
more fortunate fituation, from becoming itſelf
the conqueft of other ftates: a free city fituated
between ſeveral nations, none of which ſhould
find it their intereft to attack it, yet all think
themſelves intereſted in preventing its being
attacked by others: a republick, in fhort, which
fhould prefent nothing to tempt the ambition
of its neighbours; but might reaſonably de-
pend on their affiftance in cafe of need. It
would follow that a republican ſtate ſo happily
fituated as I have fuppofed, could have nothing
to fear but from itfelf; and that, if its mem-
bers accuſtomed themfelves to the exerciſe of
arms, it muſt be to keep alive that military ar-
dour and courage, which is fo becoming among
free-men, and tends to keep up their taſte for
liberty, rather than thro' the neceffity of pro-
viding for their own defence.
I ſhould have fought a country, in which
the legislative power fhould be vefted in all its
citizens: for who can better judge than them-
felves of the propriety of the terms, on which
they mutually agree to live together in the fame
community? Not that I fhould have approved
of Plebiscita, like thofe among the Romans;
in which the principal perfons in the ftate, and
thoſe moſt intereſted in its prefervation, were
excluded thoſe deliberations on which its fecu-
rity frequently depended; and in which, by
the moſt abfurd inconfiftency, the magiſtrates
were deprived of privileges enjoyed in common
by the loweſt citizens.
On
12
DEDICATION.
On the contrary, I fhould have defired that,
in order to prevent felf-intereſted and ill defign-
ed projects, with any of thofe dangerous inno-
vations, which at length ruined the Athenians,
no perſon ſhould be at liberty to propoſe new
laws at pleaſure: but that this fhould be the
excluſive privilege of the magiftrates; and that
even theſe fhould ufe it with fo much caution,
that the people on their part, fhould be ſo re-
ſerved in giving their confent to fuch laws; and
that the promulgation of theirs ſhould be at-
tended with ſo much folemnity, that before the
conſtitution could be affected by them, there
might be time enough given for all to be con-
vinced, that it is the great antiquity of the laws
which principally contributes to render them.
facred and venerable, that the people foon learn
to deſpiſe thoſe which they fee daily altered,
and that ftates, by accuftoming themſelves to
neglect their ancient cuſtoms under pretence of
improvement, frequently introduce greater evils
than thoſe they endeavour to remove.
I ſhould have particularly avoided a repub-
lick, as one that muft of courſe be ill-govern-
ed, in which the people, imagining themſelves
capable of fubfifting without magiftrates, or
at leaſt without inveſting them with any thing
more than a precarious authority, íhould im-
prudently reſerve to themſelves the adminiſtra-
tion of civil affairs and the execution of their
own laws. Such muſt have been the rude con
ftitution of the primitive governments, directly
emerging from a ftate of nature; and this was
another of the vices that contributed to the dif
folution of the republick of Athens.
But
DEDICATION.
143
:
But I fhould have choſen a community, the
individuals of which, contented with the pri-
vileges of giving fanction to their laws, and of
unitedly deciding, from the repreſentations of
the magiftrates, the moſt important public af-
fairs, hould have eſtabliſhed refpectable tri-
bunals; carefully diſtinguiſhed their ſeveral de-
partments; and electing annually ſome of their
fellow citizens, of the greateft capacity and in-
tegrity, to adminifter juftice and govern the
ftate; a community, in fhort, in which the
virtue of the magiftrates thus bearing teftimony
to the wisdom of the people, they would mu-
tually confer honour upon each other; in fo
much that if ever any fatal miſunderſtandings
ſhould ariſe to diſturb the public peace, even
theſe intervals of confufion and error fhould
bear the marks of moderation, reciprocal efteem,
and of a mutual respect for the laws; certain
figns and pledges of a reconciliation as lafting
as fincere. Such are the advantages, moft ho-
nourable, magnificent and fovereign Lords,
which I fhould have fought in the country I
had chofen for the place of my nativity.
And if providence had added to all theſe, a
delightful fituation, a temperate clime, a fertile
foil, and the moft charming views that prefent
themſelves under heaven, I ſhould defire only,
to compleat my felicity, the peaceful enjoy-
ment of all theſe bleffings, in the boſom of this
happy country; living in agreeable fociety
with my fellow-citizens, and exercifing towards
them from their own example, the duties of
friendſhip, humanity, and every other virtue,
that I might leave behind me the honourable
memory
144
DEDICATION.
memory of a worthy man, and an incorruptible
and virtuous patriot.
But, if lefs fortunate or too late grown wife,
I faw myſelf reduced to end an infirm and
languiſhing life in other climates, vainly re-
greting that peaceful repoſe which I forfeited
in the imprudence of my youth, I would at
leaft have entertained the fame fentiments with-
in myſelf, tho' denied the opportunity of a-
vowing and indulging them in my native coun-
try. Affected with a tender and difinterefted
love for my diſtant fellow-citizens, I fhould
have addreffed from my heart, nearly in the fol-
lowing terms.
My dear countrymen, or rather my bre-
thren, fince the ties of blood unite moſt of us,
as well as the laws, it gives me pleaſure that I
cannot think of you, without thinking, at the
fame time, of all the bleffings you enjoy, and
of which none of you, perhaps, are fo fenfible
of the value as I to whom they are loft. The
more I reflect on your fituation, both civil and
political, the leſs can I conceive that the preſent
ftate of human nature will admit of a better.
In all other governments, even when they de-
liberate on fubjects the most interefting to the
ftate, they are always confined to ideal projects,
or at least to bare poffibilities. But as to you,
your happineſs is compleat. You have no-
thing to do but enjoy it; you require nothing
more to be made perfectly happy, than to
know how to be fatisfied with being fo. Your
fovereignty, acquired or recovered by the ſword,
and maintained for two centuries paft by your
valour and wiſdom, is at length fully and uni-
verfally
DEDICATION.
145
verfally acknowledged. Your boundaries are
fixed, your ri_hts confirmed and your repoſe
fecured by honourable treaties. Your confti-
tution is excellent, being not only dictated by the
profoundeſt wiſdom, but guaranteed by friendly
and refpectable powers. Your ftate enjoys per-
fect tranquillity; you have nothing to fear ei-
ther from wars or conquerors: you have no
other maſter than the wife laws you have your-
felves made; and which are adminiftred by up-
right magiſtrates of your own chufing. You
are neither fo wealthy as to be enervated by
effeminacy, and thence to lofe, in the purfuit
of frivolous pleaſures, a tafte for real happiness
and folid virtue; nor yet are ye fo poor as to
require more affiftance from ſtrangers than
your own induſtry is fufficient to procure you.
In the mean time that dailing liberty, which is
not to be maintained in great ftates, but by
fubmitting to the most exorbitant impofitions,
cofts you hardly any thing for its prefervation.
May a republick, fo wifely and happily con-
ftituted laft for ever, as well for an example to
other nations, as for the felicity of its own
fubjects! This is the only wish you have
left to make; the only ſubject of your folici-
tude. It depends, for the future, on yourfelves
alone, (not to make you happy, your anceſtors
have faved you that trouble) but to render that
happineſs laſting, by your prudence in its en-
joyment. It is on your conftant unanimity,
your obedience to the laws, and your reſpec
to the magiftrates, your preſervation depends.
If there remain among you the ſmalleſt feeds
of emnity or diftruft, haften to root them up,
as an accurfed leaven; from which fooner or
later will refult fuch misfortunes as must be
VOL. I. MISC.
H
the
146
DEDICATION.
the deftruction of the ftate. I conjure you all
to examine the bottom of your hearts, and to
hearken to the fecret voice of your own con-
fciences. Is there any among you who can
find, throughout the univerfe, a more upright,
more enlightened and more refpectable body
than that of your own magiftracy? Do not all
its members fet you an example of moderation,
of fimplicity of manners, of reſpect for the laws,
and of the moft fincere reconciliation? Place,
therefore, without referve that falutary confi-
dence on fuck wife fuperiors, which reaſon
ever owes to virtue. Confider they are the
objects of your own choice; that they juſtify
that choice; and that the honours, due to thofe
whom you have exalted to dignity, are neceſ-
farily reflected back on yourſelves. Is there
any among you fo ignorant, or inattentive, as
not to know that, when the laws lofe their
force, and the magiftrates their authority, nei-
ther the perfons nor properties of individuals
are any longer fecure. Why, therefore, fhould
you heſitate to do that chearfully and confident-
ly, which your true intereft, your duty and
even common prudence will ever require.
Let not a culpable and pernicious indifference
for the fupport of the conftitution, ever induce
you to neglect, in cafe of need, the prudent
advice of the most enlightened and zealous of
your fellow-citizens: but let equity, modera-
tion and firmneſs of refolution continue to re-
gulate all your proceedings; exhibiting you
to the whole univerfe, as an example of a va-
liant and modeft people, equally tenacious of
their honour and their liberty. Beware particu-
larly, as the laſt advice I fhall give you, of finifter
conftruction and calumniating reports, the fe-
cret
DEDICATION.
147
cret motives of which are often more danger-
ous than the actions at which they are levelled.
The whole houfe will be awake and take the
firft alarm, given by a truſty and watchful
maftiff, who barks only at the approach of
thieves; but we ever abominate the imper-
tinent yelping of thofe noify curs, who are per-
petually diſturbing the public repofe, and whoſe
continual and ill-timed reports prevent our at-
tending to them, when they may perhaps be
neceffary.
And you, moft honourable and magnificent
lords, you, the worthy and refpe&table magi-
firates of a free people, permit me to offer you
in particular my duty and homage. If there
be in the world, a ftation capable of conferring
honour on the perfons who fill it, it is un-
doubtedly that which virtue and talents com-
bine to beſtow; that of which you have ren-
dered yourſelves worthy, and to which you,
have been promoted by your fellow-citizens.
Their worth adds a new luftre to yours; while
being chofen by men, capable of governing
others, to govern themſelves, I cannot help
efteeming you as much fuperior to all other
magiftrates, as a free people, and particularly
that over which you have the honour to prefide,
is by its wiſdom and knowledge fuperior to the
populace of other ſtates.
Be it permitted me to cite an example; of
which there ought to have exifted better re-
mains; an example which will be ever near
and dear to my heart. I cannot recall to mind,
without the moft agreeable emotions, the per-
fon and manners of that virtuous citizen, to
whom I owe my being, and by whom I was
inftructed, in my infancy, in the refpect which
H 2
is
148
DEDICATIO N.
is due to you. I can imagine that I fee him.
ftill fubfifting on his manual labour, and im-
proving his mind by the ftudy of the fublimeſt
truths. I fee, lying before him, the works of
Tacitus, Plutarch and Grotius, intermixed
with the tools of his trade. At his fide ftands his
darling fon, receiving, alas with too little pro-
fit, the tender inftructions of the beſt of fa-
thers. But, tho' the fallies of youth occa-
fioned me a while to forget his prudent leffons,
I have at length the happineſs to experience
that, whatever propenfity one may have to vice,
it is not eafy for an education, thus affection-
ately beſtowed, to be ever entirely thrown
away.
Such, my moft honourable and magnificent
lords, are the citizens, and even the common
inhabitants of the country under your govern-
ment; fuch are thofe intelligent and fenfible
men, of which, under the name of mechanicks
and trades-people, it is ufual, in other nations
to entertain a falfe and contemptible idea. My
father, I own it with pleaſure, was in no wife
diftinguished from his fellow-citizens. He
was only ſuch as they are all: and yet, fuch as
he was, there is no country, in which his ac-
quaintance would not have been coveted, and
cultivated even with advantage by men of the
firft diftinction. It would not become me,
nor is it, thank heaven, at all neceffary for me
to remind you of the regard which fuch men
have a right to expect of their magiftrates, to
whom they are equal both by birth and edu-
cation; and inferior only by that preference
which they voluntarily pay to your merit, and
in fo doing lay claim on their part to fome fort
of acknowledgement.
:
It
DEDICATION. 149
It is with a lively fatisfaction I under-
ftand that the greatest candour and condefcen-
fion attend, in all your behaviour towards.
them, on that gravity which becomes the fa-
gacious minifters of the law; and that you fo
well repay them, by your efteem and attention
to the general welfare, that reſpect and obedi-
ence which they juftly pay to you. This con-
duct is not only juft but prudent; as it wifely
tends to obliterate many unhappy events, which
ought to be buried in eternal oblivion. It is
alfo by fo much the more prudential, as it
tends to make a generous and equitable people
find a pleaſure in their duty; whilft, naturally
fond of doing you honour, thofe who are the
moft zealous to maintain their own rights and
privileges, are at the fame time the beſt dif-
pofed to reſpect yours.
It ought not to be thought furprizing that
the governors of civil fociety fhould have the
welfare and glory of their peculiar communi-
ties at heart: but it is uncommonly fortunate
for them, when thoſe perfons who look upon
themſelves as the magiftrates, or rather the
maſters of a more holy and fublime country,
demonftrate their affection for the earthly ſpot
which maintains them. I am happy in having
it in my power to make fo fingular an excep-
tion in favour of my own country; and to
rank, in the number of its beft citizens,
thoſe zealous depofitaries of the facred articles
of our eſtabliſhed faith; thofe venerable paf-
tors whoſe powerful and captivating eloquence
are fo much the better calculated to enforce the
maxims of the gofpel, as they are themfelves
the firft to put them in practice.
H 3
The
150
DEDICATIO N.
The whole world is informed of the great
fuccefs with which the oratory of the pulpit is
cultivated at Geneva; but, being too much
ufed to hear divines preach one thing, and fee
them practice another, few people have an op-
portunity to know how far the true fpirit of
Chriſtianity, holiness of manners, ſeverity with
regard to themſelves and indulgence to their
neighbours, prevail throughout the whole body
of our minifters. It is, perhaps, in the power
of the city of Geneva alone, to produce an
edifying example of fo perfect an union fub-
fifting between its clergy and men of letters.
And it is in a great degree, on their wifdom,
their known moderation, and on their zeal for
the profperity of the ſtate that 1 build my hopes
of its conftant and perpetual tranquillity.
At the fame time, I remark, with a plea-
fure mixt with furprize and veneration, how
much they deteft the horrid maxims of thofe
holy and barbarous men, of whom hiftory
furniſhes us with more than one example;
who, in order to fupport the pretended preroga-
tive of the deity, that is to fay their own intereft,
have been ſo much the leſs ſparing of human
blood, as they were more flattered their own
in particular fhould be always refpected. I
muft not here forget that precious half of the re-
publick, which makes the happineſs of the other;
and whofe tenderness and prudence preferve
its tranquillity and virtue. Amiable and virtuous
daughters of Geneva, it will be always the lot of
your fex to govern ours. Happy, fo long as
your chafte influence, folely exercifed within
the limits of conjugal union, is exerted only
for the glory of the ftate and the happineſs of
the publick. It is thus the female fex com-
manded
DEDICATION.
151
manded at Sparta; and thus that you deferve
to command at Geneva.
What man can be fuch a barbarian, as to
refift the voice of honour and reafon, breath-
ing from the lips of an affectionate wife? Who
would not defpife the tawdry charms of luxury,
on beholding the fimplicity and modeſty of an
attire, which, from the luftre it derives from
you, feems to be the most favourable to beauty?
It is your talk to perpetuate, by the infinuat-
ing fpirit of your manners, by the innocent
and amiable influence of your converfation, a
refpect for the laws of the ftate, and harmony
among individuals. It is yours to reunite di-
vided families by happy marriages; and, above
all things, to correct, by the perfuafive mild-
nefs of your leflons and the modeft graces of
your difcourfe, thofe extravagancies which our
young people pick up in other countries; from
whence, inftead of many ufeful things that
come within the reach of their obfervation and
practice, they bring home hardly any thing,
beſide a puerile air and ridiculous manner, ac-
quired among loofe women, except the adinira-
tion of I know not what pretended grandeur,
a paultry indemnification for flavery, and un-
worthy of the real greatneſs of true liberty.
Continue, therefore, always to be what you
are, the chafte guardians of our manners, and
the gentle fecurity for our peace; exerting on
every occafion the privileges of the heart and
of nature, to the advantage of moral obligation
and the interefts of virtue.
I flatter myſelf no finifter event will ever
prove me to have been mistaken, in building
on fuch a foundation my hopes of the felicity
of my fellow-citizens and the glory of the re-
publick.
H 4
152
DEDICATION.
publick. It must be confeffed, however, that
with all theſe advantages, it does not fhine
with that exterior luftre, by which the eyes of
the generality of mankind are affected; a puerile
and fatal tafte for which, is the moft mortal
enemy to the happineſs and liberty of a ſtate.
Let our diffolute youth feek elſewhere thofe
tranfient pleaſures which are followed by long
repentance. Let our pretenders to tafte, elfe-
where admire the grandeur of palaces, the
beauty of equipages, the fumptuouſneſs of fur-
niture, the pomp of public entertainments, with
all the refinements of luxury and effeminacy.
Geneva boafts nothing but men; fuch a fight
has nevertheleſs its value, and thofe who have
a taſte for it, are by no means inferior to the
admirers of any other merit.
Deign, moſt honourable, magnificent and
fovereign lords, all and each, to receive,
and with equal goodness, this refpectful tefti-
mony of the intereft I take in your common
profperity. And, if I have been fo unhappy,
as to be guilty of any indifcreet tranfport, in
this glowing effufion of my heart; I befeech
you to pardon, and impute it to the tender
affection of a real patriot, and to the ardent
and lawful zeal of a man, who places his own,
and his greateſt felicity in the proſpect of
ſeeing you happy.
I am, with the moſt profound refpect; moſt
honourable, magnificent and fovereign lords,
Chamberi, June
12, 1754.
Your most humble,
and moft obedient fervant
and fellow-citizen.
JOHN JAMES ROUSSEAU.
[ 153 ]
O
PREFACE.
F all human ſciences the moſt uſeful and
moſt imperfect, appears to me that of
mankind and I will venture to ſay, the fimple
infcription on the Temple of Delphos contain
ed a precept more difficult and important than
is to be found in all the huge volumes of mo-
rality, that have been written. I confider the
fubject of the following difcourfe, as one of the
moft interefting queftions philofophy can pro-
pofe, and unhappily for us, one of the moſt
perplexing for philoſophers to folve. For how
fhall we know the fource of the inequality fub-
fifting among men, if we do not begin with
the knowledge of mankind. And how fhall
man arrive at the profpect of himſelf, fuch as
he was formed by nature, through all thoſe
changes which the fucceffion of place and time
muft have produced in his original conftitution?
How fhall he be able to ſeparate and diſtinguiſh,
that which is eſſential to his nature, from what
accident and improvement may have added to,
or diverfified in, his primitive ſtate.
As the ftatue of Glaucus, which was fo dif-
figured by time, by the feas and tempefts, that
it bore the reſemblance rather of a wild beaft
than a God; fo the human foul, altered in the
midst of fociety by a thoufand caufes perpetually
H 5
re-
154
PREFACE.
recurring, by the acquifition of a multipli-
city of truths and errours, by the changes hap-
pening to the conftitution of the body, and by
the continual jarring of the paffions, hath, if
I may ſo ſpeak, loft its original appearance, fo
as to be hardly known for the fame. Inſtead of
a Being, acting conftantly from fixed and in-
variable principles; inſtead of that celeſtial and
majeſtic fimplicity, impreffed on it by its divine
Author, we find in it only the frightful contraft
of paffion, miftaking itſelf for reafon, and of
underſtanding totally perverted.
It is ftill more cruel that, every improvement
made by the human fpecies removing it ftill far-
ther from its primitive ftate, the more difcove-
ries we make, the more we deprive ourſelves of
the means of making the moſt important of all.
Thus it is, in one fenfe, from our very appli-
cation to the ſtudy of, man, that the knowledge
of him is put out of our power.
It is eaſy to perceive that, it is in thefe fuc-
ceffive changes, which have happened to the
conftitution of man, we are to look for the
origin of thofe differences which now fubfift
among the feveral parts of our fpecies; all
which, it is allowed, are as equal among them-
felves as were the animals of every kind, before
phyfical caufes had introduced thofe varieties
which are now obfervable among fome of them.
It is, in fact, not to be conceived that theſe
primary changes, to whatever cauſes they may
be imputed, could have altered, all at once and
in the fame manner, every individual of the
fpecies. It is natural to think that, while the
condition of fome of them grew better or worse,
and they were acquiring various good or bad
quas
PREFACE.
155
qualities not inherent in their nature, there
were others who continued a longer time in
their first fituation. Such was doubtless the
firſt ſource of the inequality of mankind; which
it is much eaſier to point out thus in general
terms, than to affign with preciſion the true
cauſes of particular diftinctions.
Let not my readers, therefore, imagine that
I flatter myself with having feen what it appears
to me fo difficult to diſcover. I have here open-
ed fome arguments, and rifked a few conjec-
tures; but leſs from the hope of being able to
folve the difficulty, than with a view to throw
fome light upon it, and of giving a true ſtate of
the queſtion. Others may eaſily proceed far-
ther in the fame route, without finding it very
eafy to reach the end of their career. For, it is,
by no means, a flight undertaking to diſtinguiſh
properly between what is originally natural,
and what is artificial, in the actual conftitution
of man; to form a juft notion of a ftate, which
exiſts no longer, perhaps never did exift, and
probably never will; and of which, it is, ne-
vertheleſs, neceflary to have juft ideas, in order
to form a proper judgment of our preſent ſtate.
It requires, indeed, more philofophy than may
poffibly be imagined, to enable any one to de-
termine exactly, what precautions he ought to
take, in order to make folid obfervations on
this fubject; it appearing to me that a good fo-
lution of the following problem is not unwor-
thy of the Ariftotles and Plinys of the prefent
age. What are the experiments neceffary to be
made, in order to discover the natural ſtate of man?
And how are thofe experiments to be made in a ſtate
of fociety!
H 6
So
156
PREFACE.
So far am I from undertaking to folve this
problem, that I think I have fufficiently con-
fidered the fubject, to venture to declare before-
hand that, it would require all the fagacity of
our greateſt philofophers to direct how fuch ex-
periments are to be made, and the influence of
our most powerful fovereigns to make them.
A concurrence of which, we have very little
reaſon to expect, eſpecially attended with that
perfeverance, or rather fucceffion of fcience
and zeal, neceffary on both fides to reach the
end propoſed.
Thefe refearches, fo difficult to make, and
which have been hitherto fo little thought of,
are, nevertheleſs, the only means which re-
main to obviate a multitude of difficulties,
which deprive us of the knowledge of the real
foundations of human fociety.
It is this ignorance of the nature of man,
which cafts fo much uncertainty and obfcurity
on the true definition of natural juftice: for,
the idea of juſtice, fays Burlamaqui, and more
particularly that of natural juftice, are ideas
manifeftly relative to the nature of man. It is
therefore from this very nature itſelf, continues
he, from the conftitution and ftate of man,
that we are to deduce the firſt principles of na-
tural law.
We cannot without furprize and difguft re-
mark how little the different Authors agree,
who have treated this important fubject. There
can hardly be found any two, among the moſt
ferious writers, that are of the fame opinion
concerning it. I fhall not infift upon what the
ancient philofophers have advanced on this
head; as one would imagine they had purpoſely
en
PREFACE.
157
engaged to contradict one another, in refpect
to the moſt fundamental principles. The Ro-
man civilians ſubjected man and all other ani-
mals indiſcriminately to the fame natural law,
becauſe they confidered, under that appellation,
rather that law which nature impoſes on herſelf
than what ſhe hath prefcribed to others; or per-
haps becauſe of the particular acceptation of
the term, law, among thofe Civilians; who
ſeem on this occafion to have underſtood no-
thing more by it than the general relations, efta-
bliſhed by nature, between all animated Beings,
for their common prefervation. The moderns,
underſtanding only by the term, law, a rule
preſcribed to a moral Being, that is to fay in-
telligent, free and confidered as to the rela-
tions in which he ftands to other beings, have
confequently confined the jurifdiction of natu-
ral law to man as the only animal endowed with
reafon. But, as in defining this law, almoſt
every one hath taken a different method, they
have eſtabliſhed it on fuch metaphyſical princi-
ples, that there are very few perfons among us
capable of comprehending them, much leſs of
originally diſcovering them themſelves. So that
the definitions of theſe learned men, all differ-
ing in every thing elſe, agree only in this, that
it is impoffible to comprehend the law of na-
ture, and of courſe to obey it, without being
a very fubtil cafuift, and a profound metaphy-
fician. All which is exactly the fame as to fay
that, mankind muft have employed, in the
eſtabliſhment of ſociety, that knowledge which
is with great difficulty, and by very few per-
fons, to be acquired even in a ſtate of fociety.
Know-
758
PREFACE.
Knowing fo little, therefore, of nature, and
fo ill agreeing about the meaning of the word
law, it would be difficult for us to fix upon a
good definition of the law of nature. Thus
all the definitions we meet with in books, fett-
ing aſide their defect in point of uniformity,
have yet another, in that they are derived from
many kinds of knowledge, which men by na-
ture do not poffefs, and from advantages of
which they can have no idea when they have
once departed from that ftate. Our modern
civilians begin by enquiring, what rules it
would be expedient for men to agree to, for
their common intereft; and then give the name
of natural law to a fyftem compoſed of theſe
rules, without any other proof of their origi-
nality, than the utility which would refult from
their being univerfally practifed. This is un-
doubtedly a commodious way of making defi-
nitions, aud of explaining the origin and na-
tural fitneſs of things, by the accidental and
almoft arbitrary convenience of them.
But fo long as we are ignorant of the natural
ftate of man, it is in vain for us to attempt to
determine either the law originally preſcribed
to him, or that which is beſt adapted to his
conftitution. All we can know with any cer-
tainty refpecting this law, is that, in order to
its being a law, not only the will of thoſe it
obliges, muſt be fenfible of its obligation in
their fubmitting to it; but alfo that, in order
to its being natural, it muſt come directly from
the voice of nature.
Throwing afide, therefore, all thofe fcienti-
fic books, which teach us only to look upon.
men,
PREFACE.
159
men, in the light wherein they have placed
themſelves, and contemplating the firft and moft
fimple operations of the human foul, I think I
can perceive in it two diftinct principles of ac-
tion, prior to reaſon one of them deeply inte-
refting us in our own welfare and prefervation,
and the other exciting a natural averfion to ſee
any other fenfible being, and particularly any
of our own fpecies, fuffer pain or death. It is
from the concurrence and combination, which
the underſtanding is capable of forming between
theſe two principles, without its being at all
neceffary to annex that of fociability, that all
the rules of natural equity appear to me readily
deducible; rules which our reaſon is afterwards
obliged to re-eſtabliſh on other foundations,
when by its fucceffive efforts to the improve-
ments of fcience, it hath fuppreffed the voice
of nature.
In proceeding thus, we fhall not be obliged
to make man a philofopher, before he is made
a man. His obligations toward other Beings
are not only dictated to him by the late and te-
dious leffons of wifdom; but fo long as he does
not refift the internal impulfe of compaffion, he
will never hurt any other man, nor even any
animate creature, except on tho'e lawful occa-
fions, in which his own prefervation is con-
cerned, and he is obliged to give himſelf the
preference.
By this method, alſo, we may terminate the
ancient difputes, concerning the participation
of other animals in the law of nature: for it is
clear that being deftitute of knowledge and free-
will, they are not recognizable to that law;
as they partake, however, in fome meaſure of
our
160
PREFACE.
our nature, in confequence of the fenfibility
with which they are endowed, they ought to
partake equally of a right to natural juftice;
fo that mankind are fubjected to a kind of mo-
ral obligation even toward the brutes. It ap-
pears, in fact, that my natural obligation to do
no injury to my fellow creatures is founded lefs on
their being rational than fenfible creatures: and
this quality of fenfibility, being common both
to men and beafts, ought to entitle the latter at
leaſt to the privilege of not being wantonly
abuſed by the former.
The very ſtudy of the origin of man, of his
real wants, and the fundamental principles of
his duty, is befides the only proper method we
can take to obviate a number of difficulties,
which prefent themſelves on the origin of mo-
ral inequality, on the true foundations of the
body politic, on the reciprocal rights of its
members, and many other fimilar topicks equal-
ly important and obfcure.
In taking a view of human fociety with a
calm and difintereſted eye, it ſeems, at firft, to
preſent us only with a profpect of the violence
of the powerful and the oppreffion of the weak.
The mind is fhocked at the cruelty of the one,
or is induced to lament the blindneſs of the
other; and as nothing is leſs permanent in life
than thoſe external relations, which are more
frequently produced by accident than wiſdom,
and which are called weakneſs or power, riches
or poverty, all human eſtabliſhments appear at
firft glance to be founded merely on moving
banks of quick-fand. By taking a nearer fur-
vey of them, indeed, and removing the duft
which furrounds the edifice; we may perceive
the
PREFACE.
161
the immoveable bafis on which it is raiſed, and
thence learn to refpect their foundation.
Now, without a ſerious application to the
study of man, his natural faculties and their
fucceffive developement, we fhall never be able
to make thefe neceffary diftinctions; or to fe-
parate, in the actual fituation of things, that
which is the effect of the divine will, from the
improvements attempted by human art. The
political and moral reſearches, therefore, to
which the examination of the important quef-
tion before me, leads us, are in every reſpect
ufeful; while the hypothetical hiftory of go-
vernments, affords a leffon equally inftructive
to mankind.
In confidering what we ſhould have been, if
left to ourſelves, we fhould learn to bleſs that
Being, whofe gracious hand, correcting our in-
ftitutions, and giving them an immoveable
bafis, hath prevented thofe diforders which
otherwiſe would have ariſen from them, and
cauſed our happineſs to proceed from thoſe
means, which feemed calculated to involve us
in mifery.
Quem de deus effe
Fuſſit, et humanâ quâ parte locatus es in re,
Difce.
[162]
ADVERTISEMENT
Refpecting the Notes, annexed to the
following DISSERTATION.
T
Have added fome annotations to this work,
according to my indolent cuftom of writ-
ing by fits and ftarts. Theſe I have thrown
together at the end of the differtation; as,
in this I have endeavoured to take the ſhorteſt
way; and the fubject of my notes fometimes
rambled too far from that of the text to be read
conveniently with it.
Thofe, who may have the courage to ven-
ture on a ſecond perufal of the difcourfe, may
amuſe themſelves by beating the buſhes, and
try to run over the notes. As to others, it is
no great matter if they do not read them at
all.
[163]
QUESTION;
Propoſed by the Academy of DIJON.
What is the Origin of the Inequality among Men,
and whether it be authorized by the Law of
Nature?
A
DISSERTATION
ON THE
ORIGIN and FOUNDATION
OF THE
Inequality of Mankind.
MAN
AN is the ſubject of the prefent enquiry;
from the nature of which, it is evident
I am going to addrefs myſelf to thoſe who are
worthy of that appellation: for it belongs to
men only, to thoſe who are not afraid to
honour the truth, to propoſe queſtions of this
kind. I fhall with confidence, therefore, en-
gage in the cauſe of humanity, before the fages,
who
164 ON THE EFFECTS
who invite me to it; and fhall have no reaſon
to be diffatisfied if I acquit myſelf in a manner
worthy of my fubject and of my judges.
'I conceive there are two kinds of inequa-
lity among the human fpecies; one, which I
call natural or phyfical, becauſe it is eſtabliſhed
by nature, and confifts in a difference of age,
health, corporeal ſtrength, and the qualities of
the mind or of the foul: and another, which
may be called a moral or political inequality;
becauſe it depends on a kind of convention,
and is eſtabliſhed, or at leaft authorized by the
common conſent of mankind. This latter con-
fifts of the different privileges, which ſome men
enjoy to the prejudice of others; fuch as that
of being more rich, more honoured, more
powerful and more privileged to exact obe-
dience.
It were fuperfluous to afk what is the fource.
of their natural inequality, becauſe that quef-
tion is anſwered by the fimple definition of the
word. Again it would be ftill more fuperfluous
to enquire, whether there be any effential re-
lation or connection between the two inequa-
lities; for this would be only aſking, in other
words, whether thofe who command are necef-
farily better than thoſe who obey; and if
ſtrength of body or of mind, wiſdom, or vir-
tue are to be always found in particular indivi-
duals, in the fame proportion with power or
wealth a queſtion proper enough perhaps to
be difcuffed by flaves in the hearing of their
maſters, but highly unbecoming reaſonable men
at liberty, and in fearch of the truth.
The fubject of the prefent difcourſe, there-
fore, is more precifely this. To mark, in the
pro-
OF THE SCIENCES. 165
progress of things, that critical moment, in
which right fucceeding to violence, nature be-
came fubject to law and to explain by what'
chain of ſurprizing events the ſtrong fubmitted
to ſerve the weak, and the people to purchaſe
imaginary repofe at the expence of real feli-
city.
The philofophers, who have enquired into
the foundations of civil fociety, have, all of
them, perceived the neceffity of recurring to
a ftate of nature; but not one of them have
reached it. Some of them have not heſitated
to aſcribe to man, in ſuch a ſtate, a notion of
juftice and injuftice, without troubling them-
felves to fhew that he muſt be poffeffed of fuch
a notion, or that it could be of any uſe to him.
Others have ſpoken of the natural right of every
man to keep what belonged to him, without
explaining what they meant by the term belong.
Others again, having at firſt inveſted the ſtrong
with an authority over the weak, proceeded direct-
ly to form a government, without regarding the
time that muſt have elapſed, before the fenfe of
the words authority and government could have
entered into the minds of men. Every one of
them, in ſhort, conſtantly dwelling on the fub-
jects of wants, avidity, oppreffion, defires and
pride, have transferred to a ſtate of nature,
thoſe ideas which they acquired, and could only
acquire, in a ſtate of fociety; fo that, altho'
they spoke only of favages, they defcribed them
as if they were civilized. It hath even never
entered into the head of moſt of our writers,
to entertain a fufpicion that a ſtate of nature
exifted; in the mean while it appears evident,
from the Holy Scriptures, that the firſt man,
having
4
166
ON THE EFFECTS
having received his knowledge and command-
ments immediately from God, was not himſelf
in ſuch a flate; and that, if we give fuch credit
to the writings of Mofes as every Chriſtian
philofopher ought to do, it must be denied that,
even before the deluge, men were found in a
pure ſtate of nature; unlefs, indeed, they fell
into it by fome very extraordinary circumftance;
a paradox very perplexing to defend, and alto-
gether impoffible to prove.
Let us begin, therefore, by laying facts afide,
as they do not affect the queftion. The re-
ſearches we may enter into, in treating this fub-
ject, muſt not be confidered as hiftorical truths,
but only as mere conditional and fyftematical
reaſonings, rather calculated to explain the
nature of things, than to afcertain their real
origin; juſt like thoſe hypotheſes with which
our naturalifts daily amuſe themſelves reſpect-
ing the formation of the world. Religion com-
mands us to believe that, God himſelf having
taken men out of a ſtate of nature, they are un-
equal only becauſe it is his will they fhould be fo:
but it does not forbid us to form conjectures from
the mere natural ftate of man, and the beings
around him, concerning what might have been
the ſtate of the human race, if it had been
abandoned and left to itſelf. This then is the
queftion aſked me, and that which I propoſe
to difcufs in the following differtation.
As my fubject is interefting to mankind in
general, I fhall endeavour to make uſe of a
file, adapted to all nations; or rather, for-
getting the accidents of time and place, to at-
tend only to mankind, to whom I am ſpeaking,
I fhall fuppofe myſelf in the Lyceum of
Athens,
OF THE SCIENCES.
167
Athens, repeating the leffons of my maſters;
having Plato and Xenocrates for my judges, and
the whole human race for my audience.
Attend, O man, of whatever country thou
art, and whatever be thy opinions. Behold
your hiſtory, ſuch as I conceive I have read it,
not in books written by your fellow-creatures,
who are liars; but in that of nature, who
never lies.
-
All that I ſhall tranfcribe from her,
will be true; nor will you meet with any thing
falfe, unless I fhould involuntarily mix fome-
thing of my own. The times I am going to
ſpeak of, are very remote: alas! how much
are you changed from what you once was! It
is, if I may fo call it, the life of your fpecies
which I am going to write, after the qualities
which you have received, and which your edu-
cation and habits have been able to deprave,
but could not entirely deftroy. I am fenfible,
there is an age, at which the individual man
would wiſh to ſtop: you are about to enquire
for that age, at which you will poffibly with
your whole fpecies had made a ftand. Difcon-
tented with your preſent ftate, for reafons which
threaten your unfortunate defcendents with
ſtill greater diſcontent, you will with it perhaps
in your power to go back; and this fentiment
ought to be a panegyrick on your anceſtors, a
fatire on your contemporaries, and a terror to
your pofterity.
168
ON THE EFFECTS
PART THE FIRST.
Mportant as it may be, in order to judge
rightly of the natural ſtate of man, to take
a view of his origin; and to examine him, as
it were, in the embryo ftate of his fpecies; I
shall not prefume to trace the fucceffive im-
provements of his organization. I fhall not
ſtay to enquire alfo of the animal fyftem, what
he might have been in the beginning, in order
to become at length what he actually is; whe-
ther his long nails were at firſt as Ariftotle fuppo-
fes, only crooked talons; his whole body, like
that of bears, covered with hair; or whether he
walked upon all fours, (3.) with his looks
directed toward the earth, and confined to an
horizon of a few paces extant, at once point-
ing out the nature and limits of his ideas.
this fubject I could form none but vague and
perhaps merely chimerical conjectures. Com-
parative anatomy hath as yet made too little
progrefs; and the obſervations of the natura-
lifts are too uncertain, to afford a bafis fuffi-
ciently folid for any rational fyftem. So that,
without having recourfe to the fupernatural
informations given us on this head, or paying
any regard to the changes which must have
taken place both in the external and internal
conformation of the human frame, in propor-
tion as mankind applied their limbs to new pur-
poſes and labours, and was nouriſhed with new
On
ali-
OF THE SCIENCES.
169
aliments, I fhall fuppofe his conformation to
have been at all times what it appears to us at
this day; that he always walked on two feet;
made uſe of his hands as we do; directed his
looks over all nature, and meaſured with his
eyes, the vast expanfe of Heaven.
រ
To ftrip this Being, now, thus conftituted,
of all the fupernatural gifts which he may have.
received, and of all the artificial faculties which
he muſt have by flow degrees acquired; to
confider him, in a word, fuch as he muft have
come from the hands of nature, I'beho'd in
him an animal weaker than fome, and lefs ac-
tive than others; but, taking all things toge-
ther, the moſt advantageouſly organized of
any. I fee him fatisfying his hunger at the firſt
oak, and flaking his thirſt at the firſt brook, in
his way; finding his bed at the foot of the
fame tree, which afforded him a repaft, and
behold all his wants are ſupplied.
While the earth was left to its natural ferti-
lity, (4) it was covered with immenfe forefts,
whoſe trees were never mutilated by the axe, but
preſented on every fide both ſuſtenance and ſhel-
ter for every ſpecies of animals. Mankind, dif-
perfed up and down among the reft, would of
courſe obſerve and imitate their induſtry; thus
attaining even the inſtinct of the beafts, with
this advantage, that, as every fpecies of brutes.
was confined to one particular inſtinct, man,
who perhaps has not any one peculiar to him-
felf, would appropriate thoſe of all others, and
live upon most of thoſe different aliments, which
other animals divide among them; (5) and hence
would find his fubfiſtence much eaſier than any
other.
VOL. I. MISC.
I.
Ac-
170 ON THE EFFECTS-
Accuſtomed from their infancy to the incle-
mencies of the weather, and the rigour of the
feafons; inured to fatigue, and forced, naked
and unarmed, to defend themfelves and their
prey from other ferocious animals, or to eſcape
them by flight, mankind would acquire a ro-
buſt and almoſt unalterable temperament of body.
In the mean while, the children, bringing
with them into the world the excellent confti-
tution of their parents, and then confirming it
by the fame exerciſes which firft produced it,
would thus acquire all that ftrength and vigour,
of which the human frame is capable. Nature
in this cafe treats them exactly as Sparta treat-
ed the children of her citizens: thofe of them
who came well formed into the world, the ren-
ders ftrong and robuft,, and deftroys all the
reft; differing totally in this reſpect from our
modern communities; in which the ftate, by
permitting children to became burthen fome to
their parents, murders them all without diftinc-
tion even in the mother's womb.
*
The body of a favage man being the only
inftrument he knows how to make ufe of, he
employs it to feveral purpoſes; of which ours,
for want of practice, are incapable: our induf-
try depriving us of that force and agility, which
neceffity obliges him to acquire. If he had an
axe, would he be able with his naked arm to
break fo large a branch from a tree? If he had a
fling, would he be able to throw a ftone with
fo great a velocity? If he had a ladder, would
he be fo nimble in climbing a tree? If he had
a horſe, would he be himſelf fo fwift at the
race? Allow civilized man the time to gather all
his machines about him, and he will undoubtedly
be
OF THE SCIENCES.
171
be an overmatch for the favage; but if you
would ſee a conteſt ſtill more unequal, fet them
together naked and unarmed, and you will pre-
fently fee the advantage of having all our forces
conftantly at our diſpoſal; of being always
prepared for every event, and in carrying
one's felf, as it were, perpetually whole and
entire about one (6.)
Hobbes pretends that man is naturally intre-
pid, and is intent only upon attacking, and
fighting with other animals.
This opinion
hath been controverted by a certain illuftrious
philofopher; Cumberland and Puffendorf alſo
affirm that nothing is more timid and fearful
than man in a ftate of nature; that he is al-
ways in a tremour, and ready to fly from the
leaft noife he hears or motion he perceives.
This may poffibly be true, with reſpect to ſuch
objects as he is unacquainted with ; and I doubt
not of his being terrified by every novelty that
prefents itſelf, when he neither knows the phy-
fical good or evil he ought to expect from it,
nor can make a compariſon between his own
ftrength and the dangers he is about to encoun-
ter.
Thefe circumftances, however, rarely oc-
cur in a ſtate of nature; in which all things
proceed in an uniform manner, and the face of
the earth is not ſubject to thoſe ſudden and con-
tinual changes, which ariſe from the paffions
and caprices of collected bodies. But favage
man, diſperſed up and down among other ani-
mals, and finding himſelf betimes in a fituation
to meaſure his ftrength with theirs, he foon
makes a compariſon between them; and, per-
ceiving that he furpaffes them more in addrefs.
than
I 2
172
ON THE EFFECTS
than they furpaſs him in ftrength, he is taught
to be no longer afraid of them. Set a bear, or
a wolf, againſt a robust, active, and refolute
favage, as they all are, armed with ftones and
a good cudgel, and you will fee the danger to
be reciprocally equal. Hence it is to be pre-
fumed that, after a few trials of this nature,
wild beafts, who are not fond of attacking each
other, will not be very ready to make an attack
on man, whom they find as wild and ferocious
as themſelves.
With regard to fuch animals as have really
more ſtrength than man hath addreſs, he is in
refpect to them, in the fame fituation with all
other weaker animals, who notwithſtanding
ftill find means of fubfiftence; except indeed
he hath this advantage, that being equally ſwift
of foot, and finding an almoft certain place of
refuge in every tree, he is ever at liberty to take
or leave it, and thus to fight or fly, as he judges
it moft convenient.
Add to this, it does not appear that any ani-
mal naturally makes war on man, except in
cafes of felf-defence or exceffive hunger; or
betrays any of thofe violent antipathies, which
feem to indicate that one fpecies is intended by
nature, for the food of others.
But man hath other enemies more formid-
able; againſt which he is not provided with the
like means of defence: theſe are natural infir-
mities, infancy, fenefcence, and maladies of
every kind; melancholy proofs of our imbecil-
lity; of which the two former are common to
all animals, and the laft belongs chiefly to man
in a ſtate of ſociety.
With
}
OF THE SCIENCES. 173
With regard to infancy, it is obfervable that
the mother carrying her child always with her,
can nurfe it with much greater eafe, than the
females of many other animals, who are forced
to be perpetually going backwards and forwards,
one way to find fubfiftence, and another to
fuckle or feed their young.
It is true that if
the woman happens in fuch a cafe to perifh,
the infant is in danger of perifhing with her;
but this rifk is common to many other ſpecies
of animals, whofe young require a long time
to be able to provide for themſelves. And if
our infancy be longer than theirs, our lives are
likewife longer in proportion; fo that all things
are in this refpect pretty equal; (7) though
there are other particulars to be confidered re-
garding the duration of the firft period of life,
and of the multiplication of the fpecies, which
do not affect the preſent ſubject. (8)
In old age, men are lefs active and perfpire
little; the want of food therefore diminiſhes
with their abilities to provide it. As in a fa-
vage ftate, alſo, they would be exempted from
the gout and rheumatism, whilft old age is, of
all ills, that which human affiftance is leaſt ca-
pable to alleviate, they would, in fuch a ſtate,
go off the ſtage, without others perceiving that
they ceafed to exift, and almoft without per-
ceiving it themselves.
With respect to ſickneſs, I fhall not repeat
the vain and falfe declamations, of moft people
in health, against phyfick; but I fhall afk if
any folid ob'ervations have been made, from
which it may be juftly concluded that, the du-
ration of man's life, taken at a medium, is
fhorter in thofe countries where the art of me-
dicine
I 3
174
ON THE EFFECTS
dicine is moft neglected, than in thoſe where
it is moft cultivated? How is it poffible, in-
deed, that this fhould be the cafe, if we bring
on ourſelves more difeafes than phyfick can
furniſh us with remedies?
The great difference in the manner of living
of the feveral claffes of mankind, the extreme
idleness of fome, and exceffive labour of others,
the facility of exciting and gratifying our fen-
fual appetites, the too exquifite aliments of
the wealthy which overheat and fill them with
indigeftions; and, on the other hand, the un-
wholeſome food of the poor, of which, bad
as it is, they are often in want, which in-
duces them, when opportunity offers, to eat
voraciously and overcharge their ftomachs; all
thefe together with our watchings, and ex-
ceffes of every kind, immoderate fallies of
paffion, fatigues, wafte of fpirits, the innume-
rable pains and anxieties infeparable from every
condition of life, and by which the mind of
man is inceffantly tormented; theſe, I fay, are
too fatal proofs, that the greater part of our
ills are of our own making, and that we might
have avoided them all by adhering to that
fimple, uniform and folitary manner of life
which nature originally prefcribed. Had the
deftined man to be healthy, I could almoft ven-
ture to declare that a ftate of reflection is a
ftate contrary to nature, and that a thinking
man is a depraved animal. When we think
on the good conftitution of the favages, at leaft
of thoſe whom we have not ruined by our
fpirituous liquors; and reflect that they are
troubled with hardly any diforders, but fuch
as are cauſed by wounds or old age; we muſt
be
OF THE SCIENCES. 175
be in a manner convinced that the hiftory of
human diſeaſes must be confined to that of civil
fociety.
Such, at leaft, was the opinion of Plato;
who inferred from fome certain remedies pre-
fcribed, or approved, by Podalyrus and Ma-
chaon at the fiege of Troy, that feveral mala-
dies which thefe remedies gave rife to in his
time, were not then known to mankind.
Man, being fubject therefore to fo few:
cauſes of ſickneſs in a ftate of nature, can have
no need of phyfick, and ſtill lefs of phyſicians:
neither is he in this refpect worfe off than other
animals; and yet it is eafy to know of hunters,
whether they meet with many infirm animals
in the courfe of the chafe. It is certain they
frequently meet, with fuch as carry the marks
of having been confiderably wounded, with
many that have had their bones broken, or
their limbs torn off; whofe wounds have yet
healed up, and whoſe bones have knit together,
without any other chirurgical affiftance than
that afforded by the hand of time, or any other
regimen than that of their ordinary courſe of
life. At the fame time their cures feem not
to have been lefs perfect, for want of their
having been tortured by incifions, poiſoned
with drugs, or wafted by abftinence. In fine,
however uſeful phyfick, properly adminiſter-
ed, may be to us, it is certain that, if the
favage when he is fick and deftitute, has no-
thing to hope for but from nature, he has, on
the other hand, nothing to fear but from his
difeafe; which renders his fituation frequently
preferable to ours.
I 4
We
176
ON THE EFFECTS
ι
·
We ſhould beware, therefore, of confound-
ing favage man, with the men we have daily
before our eyes. Nature treats all the animals
abandoned to her care, with a predilection that
ſeems to fhew how very jealous fhe is of that
prerogative. The horfe, the cat, the bull,
and even the afs itſelf, are generally of an
higher ftature, are always more robuft, have
more vigour, ftrength and courage, when they
run wild in the forefts than when bred in the
tall. By becoming domefticks, they lofe half
their advantages; while it ſeems as if all our
attention to feed them well, and treat them
kindly, ferved only to deprave their ſpecies.
It is thus with man: în proportion as he be-
comes focial and obfequious to others, he be-
comes himſelf weak, timid and fervile; his effe-
minate way of life totally enervating both his
ftrength and his courage. To this it may be
added, that there is till a greater difference
between favage and civilized man, than be-
tween wild and tame beafts: for men and brutes
having been treated alike by nature, the feve-
ral conveniences in which men indulge them-
felves ſtill more than they do their beafts, oc-
cafion them of courfe to be more palpably de-
generate.
It is not therefore fo great a misfortune to
thefe primitive men, nor fo great an obftacle
to their preſervation, that they go naked, are
deftitute of habitations and of all thofe fuper-
fluities which we mistake for neceffaries. If
their ſkins are not covered with hair; they have
no need of ſuch covering in warm climates;
and in the cold they prefently learn to keep
themſelves
OF THE SCIENCES. 177
themſelves warm with the ſkins of other ani-
mals. If they have but two legs to run with,
they have two arms to defend themſelves with,
and provide their fuftenance. Their children
are flowly and with difficulty taught to walk;
but their mothers are able to carry them with
eafe; an advantage which other animals are
not poffeffed of; as the mother, if purfued, is
either forced to abandon her young, or to riſk
her own fafety by keeping pace with them.
Unless, in fhort, we fuppofe a fingular and
fortuitous concurrence of circumſtances, of
which I fhall ſpeak hereafter, and which it is
probable never exiſted, it is plain in every ſtate
of the cafe, that the man who firft made him-
felf clothes, and built himſelf a hut, furniſh-
ed himſelf with things little neceffary; for he
had till then done without them, and wherefore
ſhould he not have been able to fupport in man-
hood the fame kind of life, in which he had
ſpent his infancy.
Solitary, indolent, and perpetually accom-
panied by danger, the favage muft of courſe
be fond of fleep; his fleep alſo muſt be light,
like that of other animals, who think but little,
and may be faid to flumber all the time they
do not think. Self-preſervation being his
chief and almoft only concern, he muſt exer-
ciſe thoſe faculties moſt, which are moſt ſervice-
able to attack or defence, either in order to
overcome his prey, or to prevent his becoming
the prey of other animals.
On the other hand, thofe organs which are
to be improved only by fenfibility and fenfua-
lity, will remain in a groſs and imperfect ſtate,
incompatible with every fpecies of delicacy;
I'5
fo
178 ON THE EFFECTS
ſo that, his ſenſes being divided on this head,
his touch and tafte will be extremely courfe
and dull while his fight, his hearing and
fmell will be exceffively fine and fubtile. Such
is the animal ftate in general, and fuch, ac-
cording to the relations of travellers, is that of
moſt ſavage nations. It is therefore no matter
of furprize that the Hottentots of the Cape of
Good Hope diftinguifh fhips at fea, with the
naked eye, at as great a diftance as the Dutch can
do with their teleſcopes; or that the favages of
America fhould trace the Spaniards, by their
fmell, as well as the beft dogs might have
done; or that none of theſe barbarous people
feel pain in going naked, or that they uſe large
quantities of piemento with their food, and
drink the ftrongeſt European liquors like water.
Hitherto I have confidered man merely in
his phyfical capacity; let us now take a view
of him in a metaphyſical and moral light.
I fee nothing in any animal but an ingenious
machine, to which nature hath given fenfes to
wind itſelf up, and to guard itſelf, to a certain
degree, against any thing that might tend to
diforder or deftroy it. 1 perceive exactly the
fame things in the human machine, with this
difference, that in the operations of the brute,
nature is the fole agent; whereas man hath
fome fhare in his, by virtue of his qualities as
a free agent. The one chufes and refuſes from
inftinct, the other from an act of free-will:
hence the brute cannot deviate from the rules
prefcribed to it, even when it would be advan-
tageous for him to do it; and, on the contrary,
man frequently deviates from fuch rules, to his
own prejudice. Thus a pigeon muſt be ſtarved
to
OF THE SCIENCES.
179
to death, by the fide of a difh of the fineſt flesh-
meat, and a cat by a heap of fruit or grain;
tho' it is certain both might find nouriſhment
in the food which they thus reject with difdain,
were they to make trial of it. Hence it is that
mankind grown diffolute run into thoſe ex-
ceffes, bring on fevers and death; becauſe the
imagination depraves the fenfes, and the will
continues to ſpeak when nature is filent.
Every animal hath ideas, for every animal
hath fenſes; he combines thofe ideas alfo to a
certain degree; and it is only in the difference
of the degree, that man differs, in this refpect,
from the brute: fome philofophers indeed have
advanced, that there is a greater difference be-
tween ſome men and others, than there is be-
tween fome men and beafts. It is not, therefore,
fo much the faculty of understanding that con-
ftitutes the ſpecific difference between the man
and the brute, as it is his quality of free-agency.
Nature lays her commands indifcriminately on
all animals, and the brute obeys her voice.
Man is fenfible of the fame impulfe; but at
the fame time alfo is fenfible that he is at li- a
berty to acquiefce or refift: and it is particu-
larly in his confcioufnefs of this liberty, that
the ſpirituality of his foul is diſplayed. For
phyfics may explain, in fome meaſure, the
mechaniſm of the fenfes and the formation of
ideas; but in the power of willing or rather of
chufing, and in the fenfe of this power, no-
thing is to be found but an agency purely
fpiritual, and inexplicable by the laws of me-
chaniſm.
Suppofing, however, that the difficulties, at-
tending all theſe queftions, fhould ſtill leave
I 6
room
:
180
ON THE EFFECTS
room for difputing this difference between men
and brutes, there is another very ſpecific qua-
lity which diftinguiſhes them, and which will
admit of no difputation; this is the faculty of
improvement; a faculty which, by the help
of circumſtances, gradually unfolds all the reft,
and is inherent not only in the ſpecies but the
individual whereas a brute is, at the end of
a few months, all he ever will be during the
reft of his life; and his fpecies, at the end of
a thouſand years, are exactly what it was the
first year of that thouſand. Wherefore is man
alone fubject to imbecillity and dotage? Is it
not becauſe he returns, in this, to his primi-
tive ſtate; and, that, while the brute, which
has acquired nothing and has therefore nothing
to lofe, ftill retains the force of inftinct, man,
who loſes, by age or accident, the acquifitions
he had made by his perfectibility, falls by this
means lower than even the brutes themselves?
It would be a melancholy circumftance,
were we forced to admit, that this diſtinguiſh-
ing and almoſt boundleſs faculty, is the fource
of all human misfortunes; that this it is which,
in time, diaws man out of his original ftate,
in which his days would infenfibly pass away
in peace and innocence: that it is this faculty,
which fucceffively producing in different ages
his diſcoveries and his errors, and his vices and
his virtues, renders him at length both a tyrant
over himſelf and over nature. (9) It would
be as fhocking alfo to be obliged to call the
man a beneficent being, who firſt ſuggeſted to
the Oroonoko Indians the uſe of the boards
they apply to the temples of their children, and
which
·
OF THE SCIENCES.
181
which fecure to them fome part at leaſt of their
imbecillity and original happineſs.
Savage man, left by nature to the direction
of inſtinct, or rather indeninified for that which
perhaps he wants, by faculties, capable at firſt
of fupplying its place, and afterwards of
raifing him much above it, muft of courſe begin
with functions merely animal (10): thus to fee
and to feel muſt be the exertions of his firſt
ſtate, and this would be common alike to him
and other animals. To will, and not to will,
to defire and to fear, muſt be the firft, and almoſt
the only operations of his foul, till new cir-
cumftances fhould fucceffively occafion new de-
velopements of its faculties.
Whatever the moralifts pretend, the human
underſtanding is greatly indebted to the paf-
fions; which, it is univerfally allowed, are
much indebted alfo to the underſtanding. It
is by the activity of the paffions that our judg-
ment is improved: for we defire knowledge
only becauſe we covet enjoyment; it being
impoffible to conceive why a perfon who hath
neither fears nor defires fhould give himfelf the
trouble to reaſon. The paffions, again, in their
turn take their rife from our wants; as their pro-
grefs is owing to that of our knowledge; for
we cannot defire or fear any thing, but from
the ideas we have of it, or from the fimple
impulſe of nature. Now favage man, being
deftitute of every fpecies of knowledge, can
have no paffions but thoſe of the latter kind:
his defires never extend beyond his phyfical
neceffities. (11) The only good things in
the univerſe that he covets are food, a female,
and fleep: the only evils that he fears are pain
and
182
ON THE EFFECTS
and hunger. I fay pain, and not death: for
no animal can ever know what it is to die;
the knowledge of death and its terrours being
one of the first acquifitions made by man when
he departs from an animal ſtate.
It would be eafy, were it neceffary, to fup-
port this opinion by facts, and to how that,
in all the nations of the world, the progrefs
of the underſtanding hath been exactly pro-
portionate to the neceffities which the people
have been expofed to by nature, or ſubjected
to by adventitious circumftances, and of con-
fequence to the paffions that induced them to
provide against thofe neceffities. I might ex-
hibit the arts, rifing up in Egypt and expand-
ing themſelves with the inundation of the
Nile. I might purfue them in their progrefs
into Greece; where they took root afreſh,
grew up and towered with their lofty heads
into the fkies, amidst the rocks and fands of
Attica; without being able to germinate in the
fertile foil of the banks of Eurotas: I might
obferve that in general, the people of the North
are more induſtrious than thoſe of the South;
becaufe they could not fo well fubfift without
induſtry; as if nature was refolved to reduce
every thing to an equality, by giving that fer-
tility to the genius of a people which he had
refuſed to their foil. But who does not fee,
without recurring to the uncertain teftimony
of hiftory, that every thing in nature feems to
remove from uncivilized man, both the temp-
tation and means of changing his condition?
His imagination defcribes nothing to excite
withes, which his heart doth not fuggeft.
His wants are fo moderate that they are readily
4.
fupplied
OF THE SCIENCES. 183
fupplied with what he finds at hand, and he is
fo far from having that knowledge, which is
requifite to make him covet more, that he is
altogether deſtitute both of forefight and
curiofity.
The face of nature becomes indifferent to
him as it grows familiar. He obferves nothing
in it but the fame order, the fame revolution:
he has not underſtanding enough to be fur-
prized at the greateſt miracles; nor is it in his
vacant mind we are to look for that philofophy,
which man ftands in need of, to know how to
obſerve once, what he fees every day. His
foul, which is totally undisturbed, indulges it-
ſelf folely in the conſciouſneſs of its prefent
exiftence, without any idea of futurity, even
of its neareſt period; while his projects,
equally limited with his views, hardly reach to
the cloſe of the day. Such, even at prefent,
is the want of forefight in the native Carri-
bean, who will improvidently fell you his
cotton-bed in the morning, and come crying
in the evening to buy it again, not having
foreſeen he ſhould want it at night.
The more we reflect on this fubject, the
greater appears the diſtance between mere fen-
fation and the moft fimple ſcience: it is impof-
fible indeed to conceive how man, by his own
powers alone, without the aid of communica
tion, and the ſpur of neceffity, could have got
over fo great an interval. It is not improbable
that many ages elapfed, before mankind beheld
any other fire than that of the heavens. What
a multiplicity of accidents muſt have concurred,
to bring them acquainted with the moſt com-
mon ufes of that element? How often muſt
they
184 ON THE EFFECTS
they not have fuffered it to expire or be extin-
guifhed, without knowing the art or means of
reproducing it? and how often may not fuch
fecrets have died with the diſcoverer?
What fhall we fay, in particular, of agri-
culture; an art which requires fo much labour
and forefight; an art fo dependent on many
others, that it is plain, it could not be prac-
tifed but in a fociety at leaft begun; an art
which does not ferve fo much to draw the
means of fubfiftence from the earth, for theſe
the earth would produce voluntarily, but to
compel the earth to produce what is moft agree-
able to our taſte? But let us ſuppoſe that man-
kind, in a ſtate of nature, had multiplied fo
faft, that the fpontaneous produce of the earth
was no longer fufficient for their fupport; a
fuppofition, by the way, which would prove
that ſuch a kind of life muſt be very advanta-
geous to the human race; let us fuppofe that,
without forges or fmitheries, the inftruments
of huſbandry had dropt from the fkies into the
hands of favages; that they had overcome their
natural averfion to continual labour; that they
had acquired confiderable forefight of their
wants; that they had divined the methods of
cultivating the earth, of fowing and planting;
that they had diſcovered the arts of grinding
corn, and of converting the juice of the grape
by fermentation into wine; all of them fuch
things as must have been taught them by the
gods, fince it is not to be conceived how they
could diſcover them of themſelves: yet after all
this, what individual among them would be fo
abfurd as to take the trouble of cultivating a
field, which might be ftript of its crop by the
first
OF THE SCIENCES.
185
first comer, whether man or beaft, that might
take a liking to it; and how fhould each of
them refolve to pafs his life in laborious fatigue,
the reward of which he is by fo much the more
certain of not receiving, as he is fure of wanting
it? In a word, how could fuch a fituation in-
duce men to cultivate the earth, till it was re-
gularly parcelled out and divided among them
that is to ſay, till the ſtate of nature in which
they fubfifted was annihilated.
سفاذ
Were we to fuppofe uncivilized man as well
verfed in the art of thinking, as philofophers
pretend; fhould we even follow their example,
and fuppofe him to be a very philofopher him-
felf, capable of inveftigating the fublimeft truths,
and of forming by abftract reaſonings, maxims
of reaſon and juſtice, deduced from a love of
order in general, or the known will of his
Creator; in a word, though we were to fup-
pofe his underſtanding as intelligent and en-
lightened, as it muft, and in fact is found to
be, dull and ftupid, what advantage would ac-
crue to the fpecies, from all theſe metaphyfical
diſcoveries; which could not be communicated
from one to another, but muſt end with the in-
dividual that might make them? What progrefs
could be made by mankind, while difperfed up
and down among other animals? and how far
could men reciprocally improve, or mutually
enlighten each other, when, having no fixed
habitation, nor any need of each other's affift-
ance, the fame perfons hardly met twice in their
lives, and perhaps then, without knowing or
ſpeaking together.
Let it be confidered how many ideas we owe
to the uſe and practice of fpeech; how far
grammar
186 ON THE EFFECTS
grammar exercifes the underſtanding and faci-
litates its operations. Let us reflect on the in-
conceivable pains and infinite fpace of time,
bestowed on the first invention of languages.
To theſe reflections join the preceeding, and
then judge how many millions of ages muft
elapfe in the fucceffive developement of thoſe
intellectual operations of which the human
mind is capable.
I fhall here take the liberty for a moment,
to confider the embarraffments attending the
original formation of languages: on which
fubject I might content myfelf with a fimple
repetition of what has been advanced by the
Abbe Condillac; as it ferves fully to confirm
my fyftem, and perhaps even firft fuggefted it.
But it is plain, by the manner in which this
philofopher refolves the difficulties he himself
raiſes, concerning the origin of arbitrary figns,
that he conceives, what I doubt to have been
true, viz. that a kind of fociety must have fub-
fifted among the firft inventors of languages.
While I refer, however, to his obfervations on
this head, I think it expedient for me to give
my own, in order to exhibit the fame difficul-
ties in a light adapted to my fubject. The
first which prefents itſelf is, to conceive how
language originally became neceffary; for as
there was
no commerce or communication
kept up among men, nor the leaſt occaſion for
any, we can neither conceive the neceffity of
this invention, nor yet the poffibility of it, if
it was not ſome how indifpenfible. I might
affirm, with many others, that languages took
their riſe in the domeftic intercourfe that muſt
neceffarily fubfift between parents and their
children.
i
:
OF THE SCIENCES.
187
children. But this expedient would not obviate
the difficulty, and would befides be making the
fame blunder as thofe, who always make uſe
of ideas collected in a ſtate of fociety, in their
reaſonings on a ſtate of nature. Thus they
conftantly confider families as living together.
under one roof, and the individuals of each
obferving among themſelves as intimate and
permanent an union, as that which exifts in a
ſtate of civil fociety, where their common in-
terefts variouſly confpire to unite them: where-
as in the primitive ftate, of which we are ſpeak-
ing, men had neither houſes, cabbins, nor any
kind of property whatever; fo that every one
took up his lodging where he could find it;
feldom refting above a fingle night in a place;
the fexes united without any premeditated
defign, as accident, opportunity or inclination.
brought them together, nor had they any great
need of language to communicate their defigns
to each other; but, having put them in execu-
tion, they parted with the fame indifference
they met. The mother gave fuck to her
children at firft for her own fake; and after-
wards out of an affection acquired by habit, as
cuſtom had made them dear to her: but thefe,
as foon as they had gained fufficient ftrength
to go in ſearch of their own food, forfook her
of their own accord; and, as they had hardly
any other method of not lofing each other than
that of remaining continually in fight, they
prefently forgot each other, and were totally
ftrangers when they happened to meet again.
It is farther to be obferved that the child,
having all his wants to explain, and of courſe
more to ſay to his mother than the mother
could
188
ON THE EFFECTS
could have to ſay to him, the taſk of invention
muſt be upon him, and the language he ſhould
make uſe of, his own device; fo that hence the
number of languages would be equal to that
of the individuals fpeaking them, and their
variety would be increaſed by their vagabond
and roving life; which would not allow of time
enough for any to arrive at a confiftency of
idiom. For, to pretend that the mother would
have dictated to her child the words, neceffary
for him to employ, in aſking her for this thing
or the other, is to begin explaining in what
manner languages already formed are taught,
but does by no means explain in what manner
languages were originally formed.
We will fuppofe, however, that this firft
difficulty is obviated. Let us juſt for a mo-
ment then confider ourſelves arrived on this
fide of that vaſt ſpace, which must have divid-
ed a pure ſtate of nature from that in which
languages were become neceffary; and after
admitting ſuch a neceffity, let us enquire how
languages could at firft be eſtabliſhed. Here
we have a new difficulty to grapple with, ftill
more ſtubborn than the preceeding; for if man-
kind ſtood in need of fpeech, in order to learn
to think, they must have ftood in much greater
need of the art of thinking, to be able to in-
vent that of ſpeaking. And tho' we might
poffibly form fome conception how the articu-
late founds of the voice came to be taken for
the conventional interpreters of our ideas, it
would ſtill remain for us to enquire what could
have been the interpreters of this very conven-
tion with regard to thofe ideas, which, not
anſwering to any fenfible objects, could not be
indicated
OF THE SCIENCES. 189
indicated either by gefture or voice; in fo much
that we can hardly form any tolerable conjec-
tures about the rife of this art of communicat-
ing our thoughts and eſtabliſhing a correfpon-
dence between intellectual minds: an art fo
fublime, that altho' fo far diftant from its
origin, philofophers ftill behold it at ſuch an
immeaſurable diſtance from the point of its
perfection, that I never found one of them
rash enough to affirm it would ever arrive at it,
even tho the revolutions produced by time.
fhould be fufpended in its favour, tho' the pre-
poffeffions of our academies fhould be banished
or condemned to filence, and even tho' theſe
learned focieties fhould devote their applica-
tion for whole ages to the inveſtigation of this
intricate fubject.
The firft language of mankind, the moft
univerfal and pathetic of all others, in a word
the only language man ftood in need of, before
he had occafion to exert his eloquence to per-
fuade affembled multitudes, was the fimple
cries of nature. But as theſe were never ex-
torted unleſs from the force of inftinct on
urgent occafions, to demand affiftance in caſe
of danger, or relief in cafe of fuffering, it
could be of little utility in the ordinary occur-
rences of life, in which moderate fentiments
prevail. When the ideas of men began to ex-
pand and multiply, and a clofer perfonal com-
munication took place among them, they ftrove
to invent more numerous figns and to defire a
more copious language. The inflections of
the voice were then multiplied, and gestures
were fuperadded, which latter are in their own
nature more expreffive, and lefs fubject to
་
prior
190
ON THE EFFECTS
ar-
prior convention. Vifible and moveable ob-
jects were therefore expreffed by geftures, and
audible ones by imitative founds. But, as
hardly any thing can be indicated by geftures,
except objects actually preſent or viſible actions
eafily defcribed; as they are not of univerfal
ufe from the interpofition of darkneſs or any
opake medium, and as befides they rather re-
quire than engage our attention; mankind be-
thought themſelves at length of ſubſtituting
the articulate founds of the voice; which,
without bearing the fame relation to any par-
ticular ideas, are better calculated to expreſs
them all, in quality of conventional or infti-
tuted figns. Now this inftitution of
bitrary found, it is plain, could only have
been made by common confent, and muft
have been effected in a manner not very eafily
put in practice by men, whoſe grofs organs
had not been accuftomed to fuch exercife.
Such an inftitution is alfo ftill the more dif-
ficult to be conceived, fince the very motives.
to fuch a common agreement muſt have been
by fome means expreffed, and therefore ſpeech
ſeems even to have been neceffary to eſtabliſh
the uſe of it. It is reaſonable to fuppofe that
the words, firft made ufe of by mankind, had
a much more extenfive fignification in their
minds, than thofe made ufe of in languages
already formed; and that ignorant as they were
of the divifion of difcourfe into its conftituent
parts, they at first gave to every ſingle word
the ſenſe of a whole propofition. When they
afterwards began to perceive the difference be-
tween the ſubject and the attribute, and be-
tween the noun and the verb; a diſtinction
which
OF THE SCIENCES.
IQI
which it required no common effort of genius
to make, the fubftantives were at firft only fo
many proper names; the infinitive was the
only tenfe of the verbs; and with regard to
adjectives the very idea of them muſt have been
with great difficulty developed; becauſe every
adjective is expreffive of an abſtract idea, and
to form abſtract ideas is a painful and not very
natural operation.
Every object at firft received a peculiar name
without regard to genus or fpecies; circum-
ftances which thefe primitive inftitutors were
Hittle qualified to diftinguifh; every individual
preſenting itſelf to their minds in a ſtate de-
tached from every other, as it ſeems in the
picture of nature. If they called one oak A,
another oak was called B; fo that in propor-
tion as their knowledge of things was confined,
their dictionary muft have been copious. The
embarraflment, attending the uſe of ſuch a
vocabulary, could not be eafily removed; for
to arrange the feveral beings under their com-
mon and generical denominations, it became
neceflary to be acquainted with their diftin-
guifhing properties: it required men to be
poffeffed of many more obfervations and defini-
tions, that is to fay, of a greater fhare of na-
tural hiſtory and metaphyficks than fell to the
lot of thofe primitive ages.
Add to this, that general ideas cannot be ſug-
gefted to the mind without the affiftance of
words; nor can the underſtanding lay hold of
them but by means of verbal propofitions.
This is one of the reaſons why mere animals
cannot form fuch ideas, nor ever acquire that
capacity
ง
192 ON THE EFFECTS
}
capacity for improvement which depends on it.
When a monkey, or a fquirrel, goes from one nut
to another, are we to conceive that he entertains
any general idea of that kind of fruit, and that he
compares its archetype with each of the individual
nuts? Affuredly he does not; but the fight of one
of theſe nuts recalls to his memory the fenfa-
tions which he received from the other, and his
eyes being modified after a certain manner,
give information to the palate of that modifica-
tion it is going to receive. Every general idea
is purely intellectual; if the imagination med-
dles with it ever fo little, the idea becomes im-
mediately particular. You may endeavour to
trace in your mind the idea of a tree in general,
but you will never be able to effect it. It will,
in ſpite of all you can do, feem great or little,
bare or leafy, of a light or a dark green; and
were you capable of feeing nothing in it but
what is common to all trees, the image would
no longer reſemble any tree at all.
Thus beings purely abftracted are perceive-
able in the ſame manner, or are only conceive-
able by the help of language. It is only the
definition of a triangle that can give you a true
idea of it: the moment a triangle is formed in
the imagination, it is immediately fome par-
ticular triangle, and one cannot avoid deſcribing
it by palpable lines and a coloured area. We
must make uſe of propofitions, therefore, and
of language in order to form general ideas.
For no fooner doth the imagination ceaſe to
operate, than the underſtanding proceeds only
by the affiftance of words. If therefore the
first inventors of, fpeech could give names only
to
+
P
193
OF MANKIND.
to thoſe ideas, which they poffeffed, it follows
that the primitive noun-fubftantives could be
nothing more than proper names.
-
像
​But when our new Grammarians, by means,
which I have no conception of, began to ex-
tend their ideas and generalize their terms, the
ignorance of the inventors muſt have confined
this method to very narrow limits; and, as
they had at first gone too far in multiplying
the names of individuals, for want of being
acquainted with their genus and fpecies, they
made afterwards too few of theſe diftinctions,
for want of having confidered beings in all
their specific differences. It required indeed.
more knowledge and experience than they
could have acquired, and more pains than they
would have bestowed on the inveſtigation, to
have carried theſe diftinctions to their proper
length. Now, if even at this time, we are
daily difcovering new fpecies, which have be-
fore eſcaped obfervation, let us reflect how many
of them muſt have eſcaped the obſervation of
men, who judged of things merely from their
firſt appearance! It is fuperfluous to add that,
as to the primitive claffes and the moſt general
notions, theſe muſt neceffarily have eſcaped
their notice alfo: how, for inftance, could they
have underſtood or thought of the words mat-
ter, fpirit, fubftance, mode, figure, motion,
when even our philofophers, who have fo long
been conftantly making ufe of them, can them-
felves hardly underſtand them; and, as the
ideas attached to them are purely metaphyfical,
there are no models of any of them to be found
in nature?
VOL. I. MISC.
K
But
#94 ON THE INEQUALITY
But I ftop at what hath been already faid,
and befeech my judges to fufpend their attention
a while, to confider, with regard to the inven-
tion of phyſical fubftantives, which by the way
is the eafieft part of language to invent, that
we have ftill a great way to go, before we fhall
arrive at a perfect form of fpeech; capable of
sexpreffing all the fentiments of the human
mind, of fuftaining itſelf unvaried, and of an-
fwering the purpoſes of publick elocution. I
beg of them to confider how much time muſt
have elapfed, and how much knowledge was
requifite to find out numbers, (14) terms of
abſtraction, the aorifts and all the tenfes of
verbs, the particles, fyntax, the method of con-
necting propofitions, laying down fyllogifms,
and of forming all the logick of diſcourſe.
A
As to myſelf, I am fo deterred by the in-
creafing difficulties which preſent themſelves,
and fo well convinced of the almoſt demonſtra-
ble impoffibility that languages ſhould owe
their riſe and eſtabliſhment to mere human
means, that I leave, to any one who will un-
dertake it, the difcuffion of this difficult pro-
blem. "Which was moft neceffary, the eſta-
bliſhment of fociety to the invention of lan-
guage, or the invention of language to the eſta-
blifhment of fociety?" But be the origin of
language and that of fociety as they may, it may
be at leaſt inferred, from the little care which
nature hath taken to affemble mankind by
mutual wants, and to facilitate the uſe of ſpeech,
that he has contributed few preparatives to
their fociability, and has lent as little affiftance
to the pains they have taken in the formation
.of
OF MANKIND.
195
of focieties. It is impoffible in fact to conceive
why, in a ſtate of nature, one man ſhould ſtand
more in need of the affiſtance of another, than
a monkey or a wolf of the affiftance of ano-
ther animal of the fame kind: or, granting
that he did, what motives fhould induce that
other to affift him; or, even then, by what
means he, who required affiftance, and he of
whom it was required, could agree about the
conditions. I know, it is inceffantly repeated,
that man would in ſuch a ſtate have been a
moſt miſerable creature; and indeed, if it be
true, as I think I have proved, that he muft
have lived many ages, without having either a
defire or opportunity of emerging from fuch a
ftate, this circumftance would only ferve as the
grounds of an accufation againſt nature, and
not againſt the Being which fhe had thus un-
happily conftituted. But if I rightly compre-
hend the uſe of the term miferable, it is a word
which either has no meaning at all, or fignifies
only a painful privation of fomething, or a
ftate of fuffering either in body or foul. Now
I fhould be glad to have explained to me, what
kind of mifery a free agent, whoſe heart is at
eafe and whoſe body is in health, can poffibly
fuffer. I would afk alfo, which is moft likely,
a focial or a natural life, to become infupport-
able to the perſons who enjoy it? Look but
around you, and you will hardly find an human
creature in civil fociety, who does not lament
his exiſtence. We fee many deprive them-
felves of as much of it as is in their power,
while neither laws human or divine are capa-
ble of entirely putting a ſtop to the diforder. I
aſk, if it was ever known that a ſavage took
K 2
it
196 ON THE INEQUALITY
:.
it into his head, when at liberty, to complain
of life or to make away with himſelf? Let us
therefore judge, with lefs pride and vanity, on
which fide is found actual mifery. On the
contrary, nothing could be more unhappy than
favage man, dazzled by flaſhes of ſcience, tor-
mented by his paffions, and reaſoning about a
ftate different from his own. It appears that
Providence moft wifely determined that the fa-
culties, which he virtually poffeffed, ſhould not
develop themſelves but in proportion as occa-
fions offered to exerciſe them, in order that
they might not be fuperfluous or perplexing to
him, by prematurely appearing, nor flow and
uſeleſs when he might have occafion for them.
In inftinct alone, he poffeffed every thing re-
quifite for him to live in a ſtate of nature; and
with an improved underſtanding he has but
juft enough to fupport life in a ftate of fociety.
It appears, at firſt view, that men in a ſtate of
nature, having no kind of moral relations, or
determinate obligations, fubfifting between
them, they could not be either good or bad,
virtuous or vicious; unleſs we take the terms
vice and virtue in a phyfical fenfe, and call
thofe qualities vices which may prove injurious
to the prefervation of the individual, and thofe
qualities virtues which contribute to that felf-
preſervation; in which cafe, he muſt of courſe
be accounted moft virtuous, who fhould give
the leaſt check to the impulfes of nature. But
without deviating from the ordinary fenfe of
the words, it will be proper to fufpend the
judgment we might otherwife be led to form
of fuch a ftate, and be on our guard against the
force of prejudice, till we have weighed the
matter
OF MANKIND.
197
matter in the ſcale of impartiality, and feen
whether the virtues or vices preponderate in
eivil fociety; till we have examined, whether
the progreſs of the fciences is a fufficient in-
demnification for the mifchiefs men do each
other, in proportion as they are better informed
of the benefits they ought to do; or whether
they would not be, on the whole, in a much
happier condition if they had nothing to fear
or to hope from any one, than as they are, fub-
jected to an univerfal dependence, and obliged
to receive every thing from thofe who engage
to give them nothing.
3
Let us not by any means conclude, with
Hobbes, that becaufe man hath no idea of
goodneſs, he muſt be naturally wicked; that he
is vicious becauſe he does not know what is vir-
tue; that he always refufes to do his fellow-
creatures thofe fervices which he thinks they
have no right to demand; or that by virtue of
the right he claims in every thing he wants, he
fooliſhly imagines himſelf the ſole proprietor of
the whole univerſe. Hobbes had feen clearly the
defects of all the modern definitions of natural
right but the confequences which he deduces
from his own, fhew that he underſtands it in a
fenſe equally falfe and exceptionable. In rea-
foning upon the principles which this author
hath laid down, he ought to have faid, "the ftate
of nature, being that in which the care of our
own preſervation is the leaſt prejudicial to that
of others, was confequently the beft calculated
for peace, and the moft agreeable to mankind."
But he advances the direct contrary, in confe-
quence of having improperly admitted into the
care of favage man's felf-prefervation, the gra-
tification
K 3
198 ON THE INEQUALITY
?
tification of a variety of paffions, which owe
their rife to fociety, and which have rendered
laws neceffary. A bad man, fays he, is a ro-
buft child. But it remains to be proved whe-
ther man in a ftate of nature be this robuft
child and, though we fhould grant him that
he is, 'what would he infer from it? Why
truly, that if this man, when robuſt and ſtrong,
were dependent on others as he is when feeble,
there is no extravagance he would not be guilty
of; that he would beat his mother when the
was too flow in giving him the breaſt; that he
would bite and tear his younger brothers, and
even ftrangle them, when they fhould be trou-
bleſome to him. But thefe fuppofitions are in
themſelves contradictory; to be in a ftate of
nature ftrong and at the fame time dependent.
Man is feeble when he is dependent, and is his
own maſter before he comes to his full ftrength.
Hobbes did not reflect that the fame caufe,.
which prevents a favage from making ufe of his
reafon, as our civilians pretend, prevents him
alfo from abufing his natural faculties; as
Hobbes himſelf allows: fo that it may be juftly
faid, the favages are not bad merely becauſe
they are ignorant of what is good: for it is
neither the improvement of the understanding
nof the reſtraint of law, that hinder them from
doing ill; but the calmness of their paffions,
and their ignorance of vice: tanto plus in illis
proficit vitiorum ignorantia, quam in his cognitio
virtutis. There is another principle beſides,
which hath eſcaped the fagacity of Hobbes;
and which, being beftowed on mankind, to
modérate, on certain occafions, the impetuofity
of felf-love, or the defire of felf-preſervation
previous
C
OF MANKIND.
199$
previous to the birth of that paffion, (*15) tem-
pers the ardour with which he purſues his own
welfare, by an innate repugnance to behold the
fufferings of a fellow-creature. I don't think I
have any contradiction to fear, in allowing man
to be poffeffed of the only natural virtue, which
could not be denied him by the moſt violent de-
claimer againſt human virtues. I mean that of
compaffion; a difpofition fuitable to creatures.
ſo weak, and ſubject to ſo many evils as we cer-
tainly are a virtue by fo much the more uni-
verfal and uſeful to mankind, as it takes place
of all manner of reflection; and at the fame
time ſo natural, that the very brutes themſelves
give ſometimes evident proofs of it. Not to
mention the tenderneſs of mothers for their off--
ſpring; and of the perils they will themſelves
encounter to fave their young from danger: it
is well known that horfes fhew a reluctance to
trample on living bodies; that one animal never
paffes by the dead carcafs of another of the
fame fpecies without being fenfibly affected:
nay, there are even fome who give their fellow-
brutes a kind of burial; while the mournful
lowings of the cattle when they enter the flaugh-
ter-houſe, fufficiently publifh the impreffions
made on them by the horrid fpectacle with
which they are ftruck. We find, with plea-
fure, the author of the Fable of the Bees
obliged to own that man is a compaffionate.
and fenfible being; and to lay afide his phlegm
and ſubtlety of ftile, in the example he gives
us, to prefent us with the pathetic deſcription
of a man who, from a place of confinement, is
compelled to behold a wild beaſt tear a child
from the arms of its mother, grinding its ten-
K 4
der
200 ON THE INEQUALITY
•
der limbs with its murdering teeth, and drag-
ging out its palpitating entrails with its claws.
What horrid agitations must not the eye-wit-
nefs of fo fhocking a ſcene experience, although
not perfonally concerned! What anxiety muft
he not ſuffer at not being able to give any af-
fiftance to the fainting mother and expiring
infant!
Such is the pure emotion of nature prior to
all kinds of reflection! Such the force of natu-
ral compaffion, which the greateſt depravity of
manners hath as yet hardly been able to deftroy!
for we daily find at our theatrical exhibitions,
that thoſe very men are affected and ſympathize
with the unfortunate, nay fhed tears at their
fufferings, who, if in the tyrant's place, would
probably add to the torments of their enemies.
Mandeville well knew that, in fpite of all our
morality, men would have never been other-
wife than monfters, had not nature beftowed
on them a ſenſe of compaffion, in aid of their
reaſon: but he did not ſee that from this qua-
lity alone flowed all thofe focial virtues, of
which he difputed man's being in poffeffion. In
fact, what is generofity, clemency or humanity,
but compaffion applied to the weak, to the-
guilty, or to mankind in general? Nay, even
benevolence and friendſhip, if we judge rightly,
will appear to be only the effects of compaffion,
conftantly exerted towards a particular object:.
for to with that another perfon may not fuffer
pain and uneafinefs, what is it lefs than to wiſh
him happy? Were it even true, as is pretended
by fome, that pity is no more than a fentiment,
which puts us in the place of the fuffering ob-
ject; a fentiment obfcure though lively in a fa-
vage,
OF MANKIND.
201
1
vage, developed tho' feeble in civilized man;
this truth would have no other effect than to
confirm my argument. Our compaffion muft,
in fact, be fo much the more ftrong, the more
intimately the animal, beholding any kind of
diftrefs, takes part, or identifies himſelf with -
the animal that fuffers. Now, it is plain that
fuch identification muſt have been much more.
perfect in a ſtate of nature than it is in a ſtate ·
of reafon. It is reaſon that engenders felf-love,
and it is reflection that cultivates and confirms
it: it is that which makes man fhrink into him- e
felf; it is that which makes him keep at a dif-
tance from every thing that may disturb or afflict
him. It is philofophy that detaches him from
the reſt of the world; that bids him exultingly.
fay to himſelf, at fight of the misfortunes of
others, You may perifh if you will, I am fe-
cure. Nothing but fuch general evils as threaten
the whole community, can diſturb the tranquil-
lity of the philofopher, or roufe him from his
bed of down. A ruffian may with impunity
commit a murder under his very window; he
has no more to do than to stop his ears, and by
a fyllogifm or two prevent that nature, which ✨
is fhocked within him, from taking any part
with the unfortunate fufferer. Uncivilized man
is deftitute of this admirable talent; and for
want of reaſon and prudence, is ever foolishly:
ready to obey the flighteft fuggeftions of huma-
nity. It is the loweft of the populace that flocki
together at riots and ſtreet-brawls, the wife man
prudentially ſneaks off. It is the mob, the
porters and baſket-women, that part the com-
batants, and hinder gentle-folks from cutting
one another's throats.
K 5
It
202 ON THE INEQUALITY
It is hence certain that compaffion is a na-
tural fentiment, which, by moderating the vio-
lence of felf-love in individuals, contributes to
the preſervation of the whole ſpecies. It is this
compaffion that hurries us without reflection, to
the relief of thoſe who are in diſtreſs: it is this
compaſſion which in a ſtate of nature fupplies
the place of laws, morals, and virtues; with this
advantage, that none are tempted to diſobey her
gentle voice it is this compaffion, which will
ever prevent a ſturdy favage from robbing a
weak child or a feeble old man, of the fufte-
nance they may have with pain and difficulty
acquired, if he fees even a bare poffibility of
providing for himſelf by other means: it is this
compaffion, which, inſtead of inculcating that
fublime maxim of rational juſtice, Do to others as
you would have them do to you, inſpires all men
with that other maxim of natural goodneſs,
much leſs perfect indeed than the preceeding,
but perhaps more ufeful; Do good to yourſelf
with as little evil as poſſible to others. In a word,
it is rather in this natural fentiment, than in
any fubtle argumentation, we must look for the
cauſe of that repugnance, which every man
would experience at doing evil, even indepen-
dently of the maxims of education. Although
it might belong to Socrates and other privi-
leged minds of the like caft, to acquire virtue
from reaſon, the human race would long fince
have had a period, had its prefervation depended
only on the reaſonings of the individuals com-
poſing it.
Urged by paffions fo inactive, and reſtrained
by fo falutary a curb, mankind, being rather
wild than wicked, and more intent to guard
them-
6
OF MANKIND.
2030
themſelves againſt the miſchief that might be.
done them, than to do miſchief to others, were
by no means fubject to very perilous diffentions.
As they maintained no kind of correſpondence.
with each other, and were conſequently ftran-
gers to vanity, veneration, efteem and con-
tempt; as they entertained not the leaft ideas
of meum & tuum, nor had any true notion of
juftice; as they looked upon every violence to
which they were fubject, rather as an injury
that might be eaſily repaired than as a crime
that merited chaſtiſement; and as they never
thought of taking revenge, unleſs perhaps me-
chanically and immediately, as a cur will fome-
times turn about and bite the ftones which are
thrown at him; this being the cafe, I ſay, their
quarrels would ſeldom have very bloody confe- .
quences; the fubject of them being no more.
highly intereſting than that of fubfiftence. But
I am aware of a more dangerous one, which re-
mains to be noticed...
Of the various paffions, that agitate the heart
of man, there is one, which renders the ſexes
neceffary to each other, and is extremely ardent
and violent; a paffion fo terrible that it defpifes
danger, furmounts all obftacles; and which ap-
pears in its tranſports rather calculated to bring
deſtruction on the human race than to preſerve it.
What must become of men abandoned to this:
brutal and boundlefs rage, without modefty,
without fhame, and difputing daily the objects of
their paffion, at the expence of their blood?
It muft, in the first place, be allowed that,
where the paffions are moft violent, laws are
the more neceſſary to keep them under due re-
ftraint. But, fetting afide the infufficiency of
K.6...
laws
204 ON THE INEQUALITY
laws to effect this purpoſe, as is evident from
the crimes and diforders to which thefe paffions
daily give rife, we ſhould do well to enquire if
thefe evils did not ſpring up with the laws them-
felves; for in this cafe, though the laws fhould
be found capable of repreffing fuch evils, it is
the leaſt that might be expected from them; as
it is in fact no more than giving a check to that
miſchief which would not have happened with-
out them.
Let us begin with diſtinguiſhing between the
phyſical and moral ingredients in the paffion of
love. The phyfical part of love is that general
defire, which urges the fexes to a perſonal union
with each other. The moral part is that which
determines and fixes this defire exclufively upon
fome one particular object; or at leaft gives it
a greater degree of energy toward the object
thus preferred. Now it is eafy to fee that the
moral part of love is a factitious fentiment, en-
gendered by the cuſtoms of ſociety, and en-
hanced by the women with much care and ad-
drefs, with a view to eſtabliſh their empire, and
render that ſex commanding which ought to
obey. This fentiment, being founded on cer-
tain ideas of beauty and merit which a ſavage
is not in a flate to acquire, and on compariſons
which he is incapable of making, muft be very
faint and obfcure in him: for, as his mind can-
not form abſtract ideas of proportion aud regu-
larity, fo his heart is not more fufceptible of the
fentiments of love and admiration; which are
even infenfibly produced by our application of
thofe ideas. He liftens folely to the defires
which nature has implanted in his conftitution,
and feeks not to taſte thoſe which he could never
acquire;
OF MANKIND.
2054
acquire; fo that every woman equally anfwers
his purpoſe.
•
Men in a ſtate of nature being confined
merely to what is phyfical in love, and happy.
enough to be ignorant of thoſe excellencies,.
which ferve to whet the appetite while they
increaſe the difficulty of gratifying it, muft
be fubject to fewer and lefs violent fits of
that paffion, and of courfe it muft occafion
fewer and lefs violent difputes among them.
The imagination which caufes fo much dif-
turbance among us, never fpeaks to the heart
of favages, who quietly await the impulfes of
nature, yield to them involuntarily, and with
more pleaſure than ardour; their defires never
furviving the phyfical neceffity of the thing de-
fired. It is therefore inconteftable that even
love, as well as all the other paffions, muft
have acquired in fociety that glowing impetuo-
fity, which makes it ſo often fatal to mankind.
And hence it appears fo much the more abfurd
and ridiculous to reprefent the favages as cutting
one another's throats to indulge their brutality,
that this opinion is directly contrary to expe-
rience; the Caribeans, a people who have as
yet leaft of all deviated from a ſtate of nature,
being in fact the moſt peaceable in their amours,
and the leaft fubject, of any exifting, to the
paffion of jealoufy; notwithſtanding they live
in a hot climate which feems ever adapted to
inflame the paffions.
With regard to the inference that may be
drawn from the practice of ſeveral ſpecies of
animals; the males of which fill our poultry-
yards with blood and flaughter, or at certain
feaſons make the forefts ring with their quarrels
for
!
206 ON THE INEQUALITY
for their females; we muft fet out with the ex-
clufion of all thoſe ſpecies, in which nature has
plainly eſtabliſhed relations, in the comparative
power of the fexes, different from thofe which
fubfift among us: thus we can form no con-
clufion from the example of fighting cocks that
will affect mankind. In thoſe ſpecies where the
proportion is better obferved, their battles muft
be entirely owing to the ſcarcity of the females
in compariſon with the males; or, what amounts
to the fame thing, to the intervals during which
the female refuſes the embraces of the males:
for if the female admits the male but during
two months in the year, it is the fame as if the
number of females were five fixths lefs. Now,
neither of theſe two cafes is applicable to the
human fpecies, in which the number of females
ufually exceeds that of the males; and among
whom it has never been obſerved, not even
among favages, that the females have, like thofe
of other animals, their ftated times of paffion
and indifference. Add to this, that among fe-
veral ſpecies of the brute creation, the indivi-
duals take fire at once, and for fome time all
is confufion and diforder among them; a fcene
which is never exhibited among the human
fpecies, whofe love is not thus periodical. We
muft not conclude, therefore, from the com-
bats of fuch animals for the enjoyment of the
females, that the caſe would be the fame with
mankind in a ſtate of nature: and though we
might even draw fuch a concluſion; yet, as we
fee theſe conteſts don't exterminate other kind.
of animals, we have no reaſon to think they
would be more fatal to ours.
It is indeed very
probable they would do ſtill leſs miſchief, than
is
OF MANKIND.
207
•
is done by conteſts on the fame fubject in a
ftate of fociety; eſpecially in thoſe countries in
which, morals being ftill held in ſome repute, ¬
the jealouſy of lovers, and the vengeance of
huſbands and wives are the daily caufe of duels,,
murders, and even ſometimes, if poffible, worfe
crimes; the mutual obligation of eternal fide-
lity ferving only to give occafion to adulteries,
and the very laws of honour and chaſtity necef-
farily tending to the increaſe of debauchery and
the multiplication of abortions..
Let us conclude then that man in a ftate of
nature, wandering up and down the forefts,
without induſtry, without fpeech, and without
home; an equal ftranger to war and to peace,
without ſtanding in any need of his fellow-
creatures, or having any defire to hurt them,
and perhaps even without ſeverally diftinguiſh-
ing them one from another; let us conclude, I
fay, that being thus fubject to few paffions,
and, finding in himſelf all he wanted, he could
have no fentiment or knowledge but fuch as.
was proper to his fituation; that he was fen-
fible only of his actual neceffities, difregarding
every thing but what it immediately concerned
him to take notice of; and that his underſtand-
ing made no greater progrefs than his vanity.
If by accident he made any difcovery, he could
the leſs communicate it to others, as he did not
know even his own children. Every art muſt
periſh with the inventor, when there was no
kind of education among men, generations fuc-
ceeding generations without the leaſt progreſs
or improvement; whilft, all ſetting out from
the fame point, whole centuries muſt have
elapfed in the barbariſm of primitive ages, and
the
"
208 ON THE INEQUALITY
the ſpecies be already grown old, while the in-
dividual remained ftill a child.
If I have expatiated fo largely on the fup-
pofition of this primitive ftate, it is becauſe
I had fo many ancient errours and inveterate
prepoffeffions to eradicate, and therefore thought
it incumbent on me to dig to their very root;
and to exhibit, in a true picture of nature,
how far even the natural inequalities of man-
kind are from having that reality and influence
which fome writers pretend.
It is in fact eaſy to ſee that many of thoſe
characteriſtical differences, which diftinguiſh-
mankind, are merely the effect of habit and
the different methods of life, adopted in fo-
ciety. Thus a robuſt or delicate temperament
of body, with the ftrength or weakneſs attached
to it, are more frequently the effects of an har-
dy or effeminate method of education than of
the original conftitution. It is the fame thing
with regard to the powers of the mind; educa-
tion not only making a difference between ſuch
as are cultivated, and ſuch as are not, but even
increafing that difference which fubfifts among
the former, in proportion to their refpective
degrees of culture: even as the distance be-
tween a giant and a dwarf ſetting out on the
fame career conftantly increaſes at every ſtep.
they take.
Now if we compare that prodigious diverfity,
which obtains, in the education and manner of:
life of the various orders of men, in a ſtate of
fociety, with the uniformity and fimplicity of
mere animal and favage life, in which every.
individual is ſupplied with the fame kind of ali-
ment, lives exactly in the fame manner, and does
1
exactly
1
OF MANKIND.
209:
exactly the fame things; it may be eaſily con-
ceived that the difference between man and man
in a ſtate of nature must be leſs than their dif-
ference in a ſtate of fociety; and that the natu-
ral inequality of mankind muſt be greatly in-
creaſed by the inequalities of focial inſtitu--
tions.
But, though nature fhould really affect, in
the diftribution of her gifts, that partiality
which is imputed to her, what advantage would
the greateſt of her favourites derive from it, to
the detriment of others, in a ſtate that ad-
mits hardly any kind of relation or connection
between them? Where there is no love, of
what advantage is beauty? Of what uſe is wit
to thoſe who do not converfe, or cunning to
thoſe who have no buſineſs with others? I
hear every body conftantly repeating, that, in
fuch a ſtate the ftrong would opprefs the weak;
but let them explain to me what they mean by
oppreffion? Some, it is faid, would domineer
over others, while the latter would groan under '
a fervile fubmiffion to their caprices. This
indeed is exactly what I obferve to be the cafe
in civil fociety; but I do not ſee with what
propriety it can be inferred of men in a ſtate of
nature; who could not eafily be brought to
conceive what we mean by the terms dominion
and fervility. One man, it is true, might ſeize
on the fruits which another had gathered, on
the game he had killed, or on the cave he had
chofen for fhelter; but how would he be able
to exact obedience of him, and what ties of
dependance can there be among thoſe who have
no poffeffions? If I am driven, for inſtance,
from
210 ON THE INEQUALITY
from one tree, or diſturbed in any one place,
what hinders me from going to ſome other?
Again, fhould I happen to meet with a man
ſo much ſtronger than myſelf, and at the fame
time fo depraved, fo indolent and fo barbarous,
as to compel me to provide his fuftenance while
he himſelf ſhould remain idle; ftrong as he is,
he muſt take care not to have his eyes off me
a ſingle moment; he muſt bind me faft before
he takes his nap, or I ſhould certainly either
knock him on the head, or make my eſcape.
That is to fay, he muft in fuch a caſe volun-
tarily expofe himſelf to much greater trouble.
than any he feeks to avoid, or can give me.
Nay after all this, let him be off his guard ever
fo little; let him but turn his head aſide at any
fudden noife, and I fhall be inftantly twenty
paces off, loft in the foreft; my fetters would
be burſt aſunder, and he would never fee me
again.
Without expatiating, however, any longer-
on particulars, every one.muft fee that the bonds.
of fervitude being formed merely by the mu--
tual dependance of mankind on each other,
and the reciprocal neceffities that unite them,
it is impoffible to make any man a flave, unleſs
he be firft reduced to ſuch a fituation as not to
be able to ſubſiſt without the help of others: a-
fituation which does not exiſt in a ſtate of na-
ture; in which every one therefore is his own
maſter, and the pretended right of the ſtrongeſt
is futile and frivolous.
Having proved that the inequality of man-
kind, is in a manner imperceptible, and that
its influence is next kin to nothing in a ſtate of
na
OF MANKIND..
211
}
ረ
nature; it remains for me to fhew its origin
and trace its progrefs in the fucceffive improve-
ments of the human mind. Having fhewn that
human perfectibility, or the capacity of man
for improvement, together with the ſocial
virtues, and thofe other faculties, of which
natural man was virtually in poffeffion, could
never be developed of themſelves; but muft
require the fortuitous concurrence of many fo-
reign cauſes which might never happen, and
without which he must remain for ever in his
primitive fituation; it now remains for me to
collect and confider the different accidents which
may have improved the human underſtanding
by depraving the fpecies, having made him
wicked by making him fociable; and to bring
him and the world from that early period to the
point at which we now behold them.
I confefs that, as the events I am going to
deſcribe might have happened in many various
ways, I have nothing to determine my choice
but conjectures: but fuch conjectures become
in ſome meaſure reaſons, when they are not only
the moſt probable that can be drawn from the
nature of things, but the only means of in-
veſtigating the truth. The confequences, how-.
ever, which I mean to deduce will not be bare-
ly conjectural; as, on the principles juft laid
down, it is impoffible to form any other theory
that would not furniſh the fame arguments, and
from which I might not draw the fame con-
clufions.
This will be a fufficient apology for my not.
expatiating particularly on the manner, in which
the lapfe of time compenfates for the little pro-
bability in the events; on the furpriſing power
of
•
212 ON THE INEQUALITY
of trivial cauſes, whoſe action is conftant; on
the impoffibility that fubfifts, on the one hand,
of deftroying certain hypotheſes, if on the
other we cannot give them that degree of cer-
tainty, which attends on known matters of fact;
on its being within the province of hiſtory,
when two facts are propofed as real, to be con-
nected by a ſeries of intermediate facts, un-
known or ſuppoſed to be fo, to ſupply ſuch
facts as may actually connect them; and in the
province of philofophy when hiftory is filent, to
point fimilar facts to ferve the fame end; and
in fine, on the influence of fimilitude, with
regard to events, in reducing facts to a much
fmaller number of different claffes than is com-
monly imagined. It is fufficient for me juſt to
hint theſe objects to, the confideration of my.
judges; and to have fo managed the matter
that common readers had no occafion to cone-
fider them at all..
PART
OF MANKIND.
213
PART THE SECOND.
THE
HE first perfon, who, having incloſed a
piece of ground, bethought himſelf of
faying This is mine, and found people fimple
enough to believe him, was the real founder of
civil fociety. From how many crimes, battles
and murders, from how many horrors and mif-
fortunes would not that man have faved man-
kind, who ſhould have pulled up the ſtakes, or
filled up the ditch, crying out to his fellows,
"Beware of liftening to this impoftor; you
are undone if you once forget that the fruits of
the earth belong to us all, and that the earth
itſelf belongs to nobody." But there is great
probability that things were arrived to fuch a
pitch, that they could no longer continue in
the fame ftate: for this idea of property de-
pends fo much on prior ideas, which could only
be fucceffively acquired, that it could not be
ſuggeſted all at once to the human mind. Man-
kind muſt have made a very confiderable pro-
grefs, they muſt have amaſſed a great ſtock of
knowledge and induſtry; which they muſt alſo
have tranfmitted and increaſed from age to age,
before they arrived at this laſt term of a ſtate of
nature. Let us recur therefore ftill farther
back, and endeavour to trace under one point
of view that flow fucceffion of events and dif-
coveries, as they proceeded in their natural
order.
Man's
214 ON THE INEQUALITY
Man's firft fentiment was that of his own
exiſtence, and his firft care that of felf-prefer-
vation. The produce of the earth furniſhed
him with the means, and inftinct directed him
in the uſe of them. Hunger and other appe→
tites made him at various times experience va-
rious modes of exiſtence: among theſe there
was one which urged him to the propagation
of his fpecies; a blind propenfity that having
nothing to do with the heart, produced only
an act merely animal. This defire once gra-
tified, the two fexes had nothing farther to do
with each other; even the offspring of their
embraces caring as little for its mother, as foon
as it could do without her.
:
Such was the condition of infant man; fuch
the life of an animal limited at firſt to mere ſen-
fations, and hardly profiting by the gifts be-
ftowed on him by nature, much lefs capable
of entertaining a thought of forcing them from
her. But difficulties foon prefented themſelves,
and it became neceffary to learn to furmount
them the height of the trees, which prevent-
ed his gathering their fruits; the competition
of other animals defirous of the fame fruits ;
the ferocity of thoſe who attacked his perſon;
all theſe things obliged him to apply himſelf to
bodily exerciſes. It was neceffary for him to
be active, fwift of foot, and vigorous in flight.
Thoſe natural weapons, ftones and ſticks, were
eafily found. Thus furmounting the obftacles
of nature, he learned to contend in cafes of ne-
ceffity, with other animals, and to diſpute the
means of fubfiftence even with other men, or
to indemnify himſelf for what he was forced to
give up to a ſtronger.
In
¿
OF MANKIND.
215
In proportion as the fpecies grew more nume-
rous, the cares of individuals would increaſe. The
difference of foils, climates, and ſeaſons, would
introduce fome difference of courfe into their
manner of living. Barren years, from long
and ſharp winters, or fcorching fummers parch-
ing the fruits of the earth, would require them
to be more than ordinarily induftrious. On the
fea-fhore and the banks of rivers, they would
invent the hook and line, and become fiſher-
men. In the forefts they would make bows and
arrows, and become huntfmen and warriours. In
cold countries they would clothe themſelves with
the ſkins of the beafts they had flain. The light-
ning, a volcano, or fome lucky incident brought
them acquainted with fire; a new relief againſt
the rigour of winter: they next learned the
way to preſerve this element, then the method
to reproduce it when extinguifhed, and at length
that of uſing it to prepare the fleſh of animals,
which before they had been accuſtomed to de-
vour raw.
This repeated application of different beings
to himſelf, and of one to the other, would na-
turally give rife in the human mind to the per-
ceptions of certain relations between them.
Thus, for example, the relations which we de-
note by the terms, great, little, ftrong, weak,
fwift, flow, fearful, bold, and the like, being
occafionally and almoſt infenfibly compared,
would at length produce in him a kind of reflec-
tion, or rather a mechanical fort of prudence,
which indicated to him the precautions moft
neceffary to his fecurity.
•
The new lights which would refult from this
developement, would augment his fuperiority
over other animals, by making him fenfible of
:
it.
216 ON THE INEQUALITY
it. He would now endeavour, therefore, to
enfnare them; would play them a thouſand
tricks; and though many of them might fur-
paſs him in ſwiftnefs or in ftrength, he would
in time become the mafter of fome and the ty-
rant over others.
It is hence that man, when he firft looked
into himſelf, felt the firſt emotion of human
pride; and this it was that, at a time when he
ſcarce knew how to diſtinguiſh the different or-
ders of beings, yet by looking upon himſelf as
the firſt of animals, as one of a fuperior fpe-
cies, he prepared the way, at a diſtance, for
affuming pre-eminence as an individual.
Other men, it is true, were not then to him
what they now are to us, and he had hardly
any greater intercourſe with them, than he had
with other animals; yet they were not neglect-
ed in his obfervations. The conformities,
which he might in time diſcover between them,
and between himſelf and his female, led him to
form a judgment of others which might not
then be perceptible; and finding that they all
behaved as he himſelf would probably have done
in like circumftances, he naturally inferred
that their manner of thinking and acting was
altogether conformable to his own. This im-
portant truth, being once impreffed deeply on
his mind, would induce him, from a prefenti-
ment more certain and much quicker than any
kind of argument, to purfue the beft rules of
conduct, which he ought to obſerve towards
them, for his own fecurity and advantage.
Taught by experience that the love of hap-
pineſs is the fole motive of all human actions,
he now found himſelf in a capacity to diftin-
guiſh
OF MANKIND.'
217
guifh the few caſes, in which mutual intereſt
might juſtify him in relying upon the aſſiſtance
of his fellows; and alfo thofe, which are ftill
fewer, wherein a concurrence of jarring inte-
refts might give cauſe to ſuſpect it. In the for-
mer cafe, he joined in the fame herd with them,
or at fartheft in fome kind of loofe affociation,
that laid no tie or reſtraint on its members,
and lafted no longer than the tranfitory occa-
fion that formed it. In the latter cafe, every
one fought his own private advantage, either by
open force if he was ftrong enough, or by ad-
drefs and cunning, if he found himſelf the
weakest.
In this manner, mankind might have infen-
fibly acquired fome grofs ideas of mutual en-
gagements, and the advantages of fulfilling
them: that is, juſt ſo far as their preſent and
apparent intereft was concerned: for, with re-
gard to forefight, they were perfect ſtrangers
to it, and were fo far from troubling themſelves
about a futurity far diftant, that they hardly
entertained a thought of the morrow.
If a
deer was to be taken, every one faw that, in
order to fucceed, he muſt abide faithfully by
his poft but if a hare happened to come with-
in the reach of any one of them, it is not to
be doubted that he purfued it without fcruple;
and, having ſeized his prey, cared very little,
if by fo doing he occafioned his companions to
mifs of catching the deer.
It is eaſy to conceive that fuch kind of inter-
courfe would not require a language much
more refined than that of rooks or monkeys,
who affociate together, much to the fame pur-
VOL. I. MISC.
L
pofe,
218 ON THE INEQUALITY
poſe, and in the fame manner. Inarticulate
cries, a multiplicity of geftures and fome imi-
tative founds, muſt have been for a long time
the univerfal language of our fpecies; by add-
ing to which, in every country fome conven-
tional articulate founds (of which, as I have
already intimated, the firft inftitution is not
very easy to explain) particular languages were
produced; but thoſe rude and imperfect, and
nearly fuch as are now to be found among ſeve-
ral favage nations. Hurried on by the rapi-
dity of time, by the abundance of things I have
to fay, and by the almoft infenfible progrefs of
things in their beginnings, I paſs over in an
inſtant a multitude of ages; for the flower the
events were in their fucceffion, the quicker may
I be allowed to be in their deſcription.
Theſe firſt improvements enable mankind, at
length, to make others with greater ſucceſs and
rapidity. In proportion as they grew enlight-
ened, they grew induftrious. They ceafed to
fall aſleep under the firſt tree, or in the firſt
cave that afforded them cafual fhelter; but,
lighting upon fome flints, refembling fpades
and hatchets, they made ufe of them to dig up
the earth, and to cut down trees; with the
branches of which they built themſelves huts;
which they afterwards plaiftered over with clay
and dirt. This was the era of a firſt revolu-
tion, productive of the eſtabliſhment and dif-
tinction of families; and introductive of a kind
of property, the fource perhaps of a thouſand
contefts and quarrels. As the ftrongeſt, how-
ever, were very probably the first who made
themſelves cabbins, as they were fenfible they
fhould
OF MANKIND.
219
fhould be able to defend them, it may be con-
cluded that the weak found it much eaſier and
fafer to imitate, than to attempt to diflodge
them and as to thoſe who were once provided
with cabbins, none could have any great in-
ducement to appropriate that of his neighbour;
not indeed fo much becauſe it did not belong
to him, as becauſe it could be of no uſe to him,
being already provided; and as befides he muſt
expofe himſelf to a defperate battle with the
occupier, before he could make himſelf maſter
of it.
The firſt expanfions of the human heart,
were the effects of a novel fituation, which
united huſbands and wives, parents and chil-
dren, under one roof. The habit of living
thus together foon gave rife to the moft de-
lightful fentiments the human heart is capable
of entertaining; viz. conjugal love and pater-
nal affection. Every family became a little
fociety, by fo much the more intimately united
as liberty and a reciprocal attachment were the
only bonds of their union. The fexes, whofe
manner of life had been hitherto the fame, be-
gan now to adopt different cuſtoms and man-
ners. The women became more fedentary,
and uſed to ſtay at home with their children,
while the men went abroad in fearch of their
common fubfiftence. By living alfo a little
more at their eaſe, both fexes began to lofe
fomething of their ſtrength and ferocity: but,
f individuals became, on the one hand, lefs
able to encounter feparately the wild beafts,
they were, on the other hand, more readily
alled together to make a general reſiſtance.
L 2a
The
220
ON THE INEQUALITY
1
The fimplicity and folitude of man's life in
this new fituation, the paucity of his wants,
and the implements he had invented to fatisfy
them, leaving him a great deal of leifure, he
employed it to furniſh himſelf with many con-
veniencies unknown to his fathers: and this
was the firft yoke he inadvertently impoſed on
himſelf, and the firft fource of the evils he pre-
pared for his defcendants. For, befides con-
tinuing thus to enervate both body and mind,
theſe conveniences lofing by ufe almoſt all their
fitneſs to pleaſe, and even degenerating into real
conveniences, the want of them became far
more difagreeable than the poffeffion of thema
had been agreeable. They would have been
unhappy to loſe them, though the poffeffion of
them did not make them happy.
One may
diſcover a little better here how the
uſe of ſpeech infenfibly took place, and im-
proved in each family, and may form a conjec-
ture alſo concerning the manner in which va-
rious particular caufes might have extended and
accelerated the progrefs of language, by ren-
dering it daily more neceffary. Earthquakes or
inundations cauſed inhabited diſtricts to be ſur-
rounded with chafms or waters. The vio-
lent revolutions that have happened in the globe.
tore off portions from the continent, and con-
ftituted iſlands. It is readily conceived that
among men thus collected and compelled to live
together, a general idiom of fpeech muft have
took place much earlier, than among thoſe who
ftill wandered through the forefts of the con-
tinent. Thus it is very poffible, that after their
firft effays in navigation, the iſlanders brought
over the uſe of ſpeech to the continent and it
is
OF MANKIND.
22f
is at leaſt very probable that communities and
languages were firft eſtabliſhed in iflands, and
even came to fome perfection there before either
of them were known to the inhabitants of the
continent.
Every thing began now to change its aſpect.
Mankind, heretofore vagrant in the woods, by
taking to a more ſettled manner of life, flocked
gradually together, formed feparate bodies, and
at length in every country a diftinct nation,
united by character and manners, not by any
regulations or laws; but by an uniformity of
life, a fameneſs of fubfiftence, and the com-
mon influence of the climate. A permanent
vicinage could not fail of producing, at length,
fome kind of connection between different fa-
milies. Among the young people of both
fexes, living in contiguous cabbins, the tran-
fient commerce required by nature, foon induc-
ed another kind not lefs agreeable, but from their
mutual intercourfe more permanent. Men be-
gan now to examine into the difference of ob-
jects, and to make comparifons; they acquired
imperceptibly the ideas of beauty and merit,
which foon gave rife to fentiments of prefe-
rence and diftinction. In confequence of fee-
ing each other often, they could not do with-
out feeing each other conftantly. A tender and
agreeable mode of fentiment infinuated itſelf into
the foul, which the leaft oppofition converted
into an impetuous fury: love gave birth to jea-
loufy; difcord triumphed, and human blood
was facrificed to the gentleft of all the paffions.
In proportion to the progrefs of ideas and
fentiments, and as the head and the heart pro-
ceed in their exercife, mankind go on to lay
afide
L. 3
222 ON THE INEQUALITY
afide their original wildnefs; their private con-
nections becoming every day more intimate as
their general limits grow extenfive. They ac-
cuſtom themſelves now to affemble round a large
tree; while finging and dancing, the genuine
offspring of love and leifure, become the amufe-
ment, or rather the occupation of men and
women thus affembled together and having no-
thing elſe to do. Every one begins to reſpect
another, and to be defirous of having refpect
paid him in turn; and thus a value becomes
affixed to public eſteem. Whoever fings or
dances beft; whoever is the handfomeft, the
ftrongeft, the moſt dexterous, or the moft elo-
quent, becomes the moft diftinguiſhed; and
this was the firſt ſtep toward inequality, and at
the fame time toward vice. From theſe firſt
diſtinctions arofe on one fide vanity and con-
tempt; and on the other ſhame and envy: the
fermentation, cauſed by which new leavens,
produced at length combinations the moſt fatal
to innocence and happineſs.
As foon as men began to fhew each other
mutual eſteem, and the idea of reſpect had got
footing in the mind, every one of courſe put in
his claim to it, and it became impoffible to re-
fuſe it to any with impunity. Hence aroſe the
first obligations of civility even among fava-
ges; and hence every intended injury became
an affront; becauſe, befides the hurt which
might reſult from it, the party injured was cer-
tain to find in it a contempt for his perſon often
more infupportable than the hurt itſelf.
Thus it is that every man, refenting the
contempt fhewn for him by others, in propor-
tion to his opinion of himſelf, revenge became
terrible
OF MANKIND.
223
terrible, and mankind by degrees became fan-
guinary and cruel. Such was preciſely the ſtate
to which moſt of the favage nations, which are
known to us, were arrived and it is for want
of having made a proper diftinction in our ideas,
and remarking how very far they were from
being in a ſtate of nature, that fo many wri-
ters have precipitately concluded that man is
naturally cruel, and requires civil inftitutions
to foften him; whereas nothing is more mild
and gentle than man in his primitive ftate,
when placed by nature at an equal diſtance from
the ſtupidity of brutes, and the fatal ingenuity
of civilized man. Equally confined by in-
ſtinct and reaſon to the fole care of guarding
againſt the miſchiefs which threaten him, he is
reftrained by natural compaffion from doing
any injury to others; to which he has not the
leaft inducement even in return for injuries
received. For, according to the axiom of the
fagacious Mr. Locke, There can be no injury,
where there is no property.
But it must be remarked that the fociety thus
formed, and the relations once eftablished among
mankind, required of them qualities different
from thoſe which they poffeffed from their pri-
mitive conftitution. A fenfe of morality be-
ginning now to introduce itfelf into human
actions, and every one, before the inftitutions
of laws, being his own judge and avenger of
the injuries done him, that goodneſs which was
ſuitable enough to a pure ftate of nature, was
no longer that which agreed with an infant
ſtate of fociety. It was requifite that puniſh-
ments ſhould be made more fevere, in propor-
tion as the opportunities of offending became
Ind 4
more
224
ON THE INEQUALITY
more frequent, and that the dread of vengeance
ſhould ſtand in the place of the terror of the
law.
Thus, though men were become less patient,
and their natural compaffion had already fuf-
fered fome diminution, this period of the ex-
panfion of the human faculties, keeping a juft
mean between the indolence of his primitive
ſtate and the preſent petulant activity of our ſelf-
love; it muſt have been the most happy and
durable epoch of human life. The more we
reflect on it, the more we ſhall find, that this
ftate was the leaft fubject of any other to
change; the very beft that could be, for man-
kind; and a ſtate, out of which nothing could
have drawn him, but ſome finifter accident,
which it had been better for the publick good
had never happened. The example of the
favages, moſt of whom have been found in this
itate, feems indeed to prove that mankind were
formed ever to remain in it; that this fituation
was the real youth and vigour of the world, and
that all fubfequent improvements have been ap-
parently ſo many ſteps toward the perfection of
the individual, but in reality to the decrepitude.
of the ſpecies.
So long as men refted content with their
ruftic cabbins; fo long as they were fatisfied
with cloths made of the fkins of other animals,
and the uſe of thorns and fiſh-bones in fewing
theſe ſkins together; fo long as they confidered
feathers and fhells as fufficient ornaments of
drefs; and continued to paint their bodies of
different colours, to improve and adorn their
bows and arrows, to form with fharp-edged
ftones their fifhing boats or clumfey inftru-
ments
OF MANKIND.
225
:
ments of mufick; in a word, fo long as they
undertook fuch performances only as a fingle-
perfon could execute, and abided by fuch arts,
as did not require the joint labours of feveral
hands, they lived free, healthy, honeft and
happy; at leaſt fo far as their nature would ad-
mit of, continuing to enjoy all the pleaſures of
a mutual and independent intercourfe. But
from the inftant they began to ftand in need of
each other's affiftance; from the moment in
which it appeared advantageous to any one
man to poffefs the quantity of provifions necef-
fary for two, all equality difappeared, property.
introduced itſelf, induftry became indifpenfible;
vaft foreſts became fmiling fields, which it was
found neceffary for man to cultivate with the:
fweat of his brow, and in which flavery and
mifery were feen preſently to germinate and
grow up with the harveſt.
Metallurgy and agriculture were the two
arts, whofe invention produced this grand re-
volution. The poets tell us it was gold and
filver, but the philofophers affure us it was iron
and corn, which firft civilized man, and ruined
human-kind. Thus both one and the other ·
were unknown to the favages of America, who
for that reafon have ftill continued favage:
there are nations alfo who ſeem to have conti-
nued in a ſtate of barbarifm while they exer-
cifed only one of theſe arts without the other.
And one of the beft reafons, perhaps, that can
be given why Europe hath been, if not fooner,
at leaſt more conſtantly and better civilized than
the other parts of the world, is, that it is at
once the moſt abundant in iron, and the moſt
fertile in corn,
L.5
It
226 ON THE INEQUALITY
་
It is very difficult to conjecture how mankind
came first to know the nature and uſe of iron;
for it is impoffible to fuppofe they ſhould think
of digging the ore out of the mine, and prepar-
ing it for fmelting, before they knew what
would be the confequence of the procefs. On
the other hand, we have the lefs reafon to fup-
poſe this diſcovery the effect of any accidental
fire, as mines are only formed in barren places,
bare of trees and plants; fo that it looks as if
nature had taken fome pains to keep fo hurtful a
fecret from us. There remains, therefore, only
the extraordinary incident of fome volcano;
which, by ejecting metallic fubftances already
fufed, might fuggeft to the ſpectators a notion
of imitating the procefs of nature in that ope-
ration. And we muſt even conceive them, after
all, poffeffed of an uncommon fhare of fortitude
as well as forefight, to undertake fo laborious a
work, with fo diftant a view to the advantages
that might refult from it; yet thefe qualities
are rarely thus united in minds more improved
than we can fuppoſe thoſe of theſe firſt difco-
verers.
With regard to agriculture, the principles of
it were known long before they were put in
practice; and it is indeed hardly poffible that
men, conftantly employed in drawing their fub-
fiftence from plants and trees, fhould not rea-
dily acquire a knowledge of the means made uſe
of by nature for the propagation of vegetables.
It was in all probability very late, however, be-
fore their induſtry took that turn, either becauſe
trees, which together with their land and water
game afforded them fufficient food, did not re-
quire their attention; or becauſe they were ig-
norant
OF MANKIND.
227
norant of the uſe of corn, or deſtitute of inftru-
ments to cultivate it; or becauſe they wanted
forefight in refpect to future exigencies; or
laftly, becauſe they were deftitute of the means.
of preventing others robbing them of the fruit.
of their labours.
On their growing more induftrious, it is na-
tural to conceive that they began, by the help
of fharp ftones and pointed ſticks, to cultivate
a few pulſe or roots, round about their cab-
bins; though it was long before they knew the
method of dreffing corn, or were provided with
the implements neceffary to raiſe it in any large-
quantity; not to mention how requifite it is,
in order to follow the bufinefs of huſbandry, to
conſent to a prefent lofs, in order to reap a fu-
ture gain; a precaution very foreign to the turn
of mind in a favage; who, as I before obferved,
hardly forefees in the morning what he fhall
have occafion for at night.
The invention of other arts must therefore:
have been neceffary to compel mankind to ap-
ply to that of agriculture. No fooner were ar-
tificers wanted to. fmelt and forge iron, than
other labourers were required to maintain them;
while the more hands were employed in manu-
factures, the fewer were left to provide fub-
fiftence for all, though the number of mouths.
to be furniſhed with food continued the ſame :
and as fome required commodities in exchange-
for their iron, the reft at length difcovered the
method of making iron ferve to the multiplica-
tion of commodities. By this means the arts of
hufbandry and agriculture were eſtabliſhed on
the one hand, and the art of working metals,
and multiplying the ufes of them, on the other.
L. 6
As
228
ON THE INEQUALITY
X
As the earth was cultivated, it was neceffarily
diftributed and parcelled out among the culti-
vators. Hence came property, and that once
acknowledged, the fift rules of juftice: for,
before every one could be fecured in the enjoy-
ment of his own, it was neceffary for him to
have ſomething to enjoy. Befides, as men be-
gan to look forward into futurity, and were all
in poffeffion, more or lefs, of fomething capable
of being loft, every one of them in particular
had reafon to apprehend that repriſals would be
made on him, for any injury he might do to an-
other. This origin is fo much the more natu-
ral, as it is impoffible to conceive how property.
can be deduced from any thing but manual la-
bour: for what elſe can a man add to things
which he does not originally create, to have
any pretence to property in them?. It is the
huſbandman's labour alone that, giving him a
title to the produce of the ground he has tilled,
gives him a claim alfo to the land itfelf, at leaſt
till he hath reaped the fruits of his labour ;:
which claim, being continued from year to
year, forms a conftant poffeffion which eaſily
transforms itſelf into property.
When the ancients, fays Grotius, gave to
Ceres the title of Legiflatrix, and to a feſtival
celebrated in her honour the name of Thefino-
phoria, they gave the people by that to under-
ftand that the diftribution of lands was produc-
tive of a new fpecies of right: that is to fay, a
right of property different from that which is
deducible from the law of nature.
Things being thus fituated, an equality might
have been kept up, had the talents of indivi-
duals been all equal, and if the uſe of iron, for
example,
OF MANKIND.
229
example, and the conſumption of commodities,.
had conftantly held an exact proportion, with,
each other but as this proportion had nothing
to ſupport it, it was foon broken through: the
ſtrongeſt performed the moſt labour; the
cunningeft turned his labour to beft account;
the moſt ingenious deviſed methods to diminiſh
his labour the hufbandman wanted more iron,
or the fmith more corn, and while both lar
boured equally, the one gained a great deal by
his work, while the other could hardly fupport
himſelf. Thus it is that natural inequality difplays.
itſelf infenfibly with that of combination, and
that the difference of mankind, unfolded by that
of circumftances, becomes more fenfible in its.
effects, and begins to have an influence, in the
fame proportion, over the lot of individuals.
Things once arrived at this pitch, it is eafy
to conceive the rest. I ſhall not detain the
reader with a deſcription of the fucceffive, in,
ventions of other arts, the improvements of:
language, the trial and employment of talents,
the inequality of fortunes, the uſe and abuſe of
wealth, nor of all thoſe particulars which attend
on theſe, and which are eafily fuggefted. I
fhall confine myſelf to the taking a flight:
view of mankind, placed in this new fituation
of things.
:
Behold, then, all the human faculties deve-
loped; the memory and imagination in full
play; felf-love become intereſted; reafon ren-
dered active; and the mind arrived almoſt at
the higheſt point of its perfection. Behold all
the natural qualities put in action; the rank
and condition of every man affigned him; not
merely as to his fhare of property and his power
to ſerve or injure others, but alſo as to genius,
beauty,
:
230 ON THE INEQUALITY
beauty, ftrength or addrefs, merit or talents:
and theſe being the only qualities capable of
commanding refpect, it of courſe preſently be-
comes neceffary to poffefs, or to affect them.
It became now the intereft of men to appear
what they really were not. To be and to feem,
became two things totally different; and thus
from this neceffary diftinction fprung infolent
pomp and artful knavery, with all the numerous
vices that compofe their train. On the other
hand, free and independent as mankind were
before, they were now, in confequence of a mul-
tiplicity of new wants, brought under fubjection,
as it were, to every thing in nature, and parti-
cularly to one another; each becoming in fome
degree a flave even in becoming a maſter: if
rich, they ſtood in need of the ſervices of others ;.
if poor, of their affiftance; even mediocrity it-
ſelf not enabling them to do without each
other. Man muft, now, therefore, have been
perpetually employed in getting others to inte-
reft themfelves in his happineſs, and in making
them apparently at leaſt, if not really, find their
advantage in promoting his own. Thus he
muſt have been fly and artful in his behaviour
to fome, and imperious and cruel to others;
being laid under a kind of neceffity to uſe all
thofe perfons ill of whom he ftood in need,
when he could not awe them into a compliance
with his will, and did not judge it his intereft
to purchaſe fuch compliance at the expence of
being really uſeful to them.
In fine, infatiable ambition, the thirft of
raiſing their reſpective fortunes, not fo much
from real want as from the defire of furpaffing
others, muſt infpire all mankind with a vile
pro-
OF MANKIND.
231
སྐ
propenfity to injure each other, and with a fe-
cret jealoufy, by fo much the more dangerous,
as it puts on the face of benevolence, to carry
its point with the greater fecurity. In a word,
rivalry and competition on the one hand, jar-
ring and oppofite interefts on the other, toge-
ther with a ſecret defire on both of profiting at
the expence of others, univerfally prevailed.
All thefe evils were the firft effects of property,
and the infeparable retinue of growing in-
equality.
Before the invention of figns to repreſent
riches, wealth could hardly conſiſt in any thing
but lands and cattle, the only genuine property
men can poffefs. But, when inheritances were
fo much increaſed as to occupy whole countries,
and border on each other, it became impoffible
for one man to aggrandize himſelf but at the ex-
pence of fome other; at the fame time the fu-
pernumeraries, who had been too weak or too
indolent to make fuch acquifitions, and were
grown poor without fuftaining any lofs, becaufe
while they faw every thing changed around
them, they remained ftill the fame; thefe, 1 fay,
were obliged to receive their fubfiftence, or ſteal
it, from the rich; whence there foon appeared,
according to the different characters of each,
dominion and flavery, or violence and rapine.
The wealthy, on their part, had hardly begun
to taſte the pleaſure of command, before they
difdained all others, and, making uſe of their
old flaves to acquire new, thought of nothing
but fubduing and enflaving their neighbours ;
juft like thofe ravenous wolves, which, having
once tafted of human flesh, defpife every other
food,
232: ON THE INEQUALITY
food, and feek only to devour men for ever
after..
It is thus that the most powerful or the
moft miſerable, confidering their reſpective
might or mifery as a kind of claim to the
poffeffions of others, equivalent, in their opi-
nion, to that of property; the equality being
once broken through, the breach of it was at-
tended with the moft terrible diforders. It. is
thus that the ufurpations of the rich, the thefts
of the poor, and the unbridled paffions of both.
fuppreffing the cries of natural compaffion and
the feeble voice of juftice, rendered mankind
avaricious, ambitious and vicious. Between
the title of the ftrongeft and that of the firft oc-.
cupier, there aroſe perpetual conflicts, which
never ended but in battles and bloodſhed (17).
The infant ftate of fociety thus admitted a hor-.
rid ſtate of war; while mankind thus harraffed
and depraved, were no longer capable of retreat;
or renouncing the fatal acquifitions they had
made; but, labouring, in fhort, by the abuſe;
of thofe faculties which do them fo much ho-
nour, merely to their own confufion, brought
themſelves to the very brink of ruin.
Attonitus novitate mali, divefque miferque,
Effugere optat opes; et quæ modò voverat odit.
It is impoffible that men fhould not at length,
reflect on a fituation fo wretched, and on the
calamities that overwhelmed them. The rich
muft, in particular, have preſently been made
fenfible how much they fuffered by a conftant
ftate of war, of which they bore all the ex-
pence;
OF MANKIND.
233
pence; and in which, though all riſked their
lives, they alone riſked their properties. Be-
fides, however fpeciouſly they might colour
over their ufurpations, they knew in fact that
they were founded on precarious and falfe
titles; fo that others might deprive them by
force, of what they by force acquired, without
their having any room to complain of injuſtice.
Nay, even thoſe who were enriched by their
own induftry, could ſcarce found their property
on better claims. It was in vain any one repeated,
"I built this well; I gained this ſpot by my
induſtry." Who gave you the limits, it
might be objected, and what right have you to
demand payment of us, for doing what we did
not require you? Are you ignorant that num-
bers of your fellow-creatures are ftarving, for
want of what you poffefs in fuperfluity? you
ought to have had the exprefs and univerfal
confent of mankind, to appropriate to yourſelf
more of their common fubfiftence than comes
to your own private fhare. Deftitute of valid
reaſons to juſtify and fufficient force to defend
himfelf; capable of crufhing individuals with
eaſe, but eaſily cruſhed himſelf by a troop of
banditti; one againft all, and incapable, on
account of mutual jealouſy, to join with his
equals againſt numerous enemies united by the
common hopes of plunder, the rich man, thus:
urged by neceffity, conceived at length the pro-
foundeſt project that ever entered the mind:
this was to employ in his favour, the forces.
even of thoſe who attacked him, to make allies.
of his adverſaries, to infpire them with different
maxims, and induce them to adore other infti-.
tutions
f
234 ON THE INEQUALITY
tutions as favourable to him as the law of nature
was prejudicial.
With this view, after having repreſented to
his neighbours the honour of a ſituation, which
armed every man against another, rendering
their poffeffions as burthenfome as their wants
were infufferable; and in which no fafety could
be expected either for the rich or the poor, he
readily devifed plaufible arguments to make
them cloſe with his defign. "Let us join,
"faid he, to guard the weak from oppreffion,
to lay a reftraint on the ambitious, and fe-
6.6 cure to every man the poffeffion of what be-
"longs to him: let us inftitute rules of juftice
"and peace, to which all may be obliged to
"conform without exception of perfons; rules
"that may in fome meaſure make amends for
"the caprices of fortune, by ſubjecting equally
"the powerful and the weak to the obſervance
"of obligations that fhall be reciprocal. Let
❝us, in a word, instead of turning our forces
66
againſt ourſelves, collect them in a fupreme
power; which may govern us by wife laws,
& may protect and defend all the members of
"the affociation, repulfe their common ene-
"mies, and maintain a conftant harmony
among us.
<<
""
A much fhorter harangue to this purpofe
would have been fufficient to impofe on men fo
little cultivated, and eafily feduced; efpecially
as they had too many diſputes among themſelves
to live without arbiters, and too much ambition
and avarice to fubfift long without maſters. All
ran headlong into the yoke, in hopes of fecur-
ing their liberty; for, they had juſt wit enough
to
OF MANKIND.
235
to perceive the conveniences of a political efta-
bliſhment, they had not experience enough to
enable them to foreſee the dangers of it. The
moft capable among them to diſcern theſe
dangers were the very perfons who expected to
benefit by them; and even the moſt prudent
of them judged it not inexpedient to facrifice
one part of their freedom to enfure the other;
even as a man, dangerouſly wounded in his
arm, parts with it, tho' reluctantly, to fave
the rest of his body.
Such was, or it is natural to fuppofe, might
have been the origin of fociety and laws; which
added to the fetters of the poor, and gave new
power of dominion to the rich; (* 18) which
brought irretrievable deftruction on natural
liberty, fixed eternally the law of property and
inequality, converted an artful ufurpation into
unalterable right, and for the advantage of a
few ambitious individuals, fubjected all man-
kind to perpetual labour, flavery, and wretch-
ednefs.
It is eaſy to ſee how the eſtabliſhment of one
community rendered that of all the reft indif-
penfibly neceffary, and how, in order to make
head againſt fuch united forces, it behoved the
reft of mankind to unite in turn. Societies
being thus once formed, prefently multiplied
and diffuſed themſelves over the face of the
earth; in fo much that ſcarce a corner of the
world was left, in which a man could throw
off the yoke, and withdraw his head from
beneath the ſword which he faw perpetually
ſuſpended, and that often on a breaking thread,
over him. The civil law being thus become
the common rule of conduct among the mem-
bers of each community, the law of nature
maintained
236 ON THE INEQUALITY
maintained its place only among different
communities; where, under the name of the
Jaw of nations, it was qualified by certain
tacit connections to render their mutual
commerce practicable, and ſerve as a fubftitute
to natural compaffion; which, lofing, when
applied to focieties, almoſt all that influence it
had over individuals, exifts no longer except
in fome great minds, fome true coſmopolites,
who, breaking through thofe imaginary barriers.
that feparate different people, copy the ex-
ample of our fupreme Creator, and include the
whole human race within the circle of their
benevolence. But bodies politic, remaining.
thus in a ſtate of nature among themſelves, pre-
fently experienced the inconveniences which
had obliged individuals to forfake it; this ftate
becoming ftill more fatal to theſe great bodies:
than it had before been to the individuals of
which they were compofed. Hence thofe na-
tional wars, thofe battles, murders, and re-
prifals, which are fo fhocking both to nature
and reafon; together with all thofe horrid pre-
judices which place the honour of fhedding hu-
man blood among the virtues. The moft worthy
men hence learned to confider the practice of
cutting each others. throats as a moral duty;
at length they maffacred their fellow-creatures.
by thouſands without even fo much as know-
ing for what; committing more murders in a
fingle fight, and more violent outrages in the-
facking of a fingle town, than were committed
in a ſtate of nature, for a fucceffion of ages
over the face of the whole earth. Such were
the firft effects, which we may conceive from
the divifion of mankind into different commu-
nities. But to return to their inftitution. I
know
OF MANKIND.
237
know that many have imputed another origin
to political focieties, fuch as the conqueft of
the powerful, or the affociations of the weak.
It is, indeed, no matter which of theſe cauſes
we adopt in regard to what I would eſtabliſh.
That which I have juft laid down, however,
appears to me the most natural for the follow-
ing reafons.
ft. Becauſe, in the firſt caſe,
the right of conqueft being no right in itſelf,
it could not ſerve as a foundation on which to
build another; the victor and the vanquished
ever remaining with respect to each other in
a ſtate of war, unless the vanquished being
reftored to the full poffeffion of their liberty,
they ſhould voluntarily make choice of the
victor for their chief. For till then whatever
truce or capitulation may have been made be-
tween them, as fuch capitulations were found-
ed in violence, and of courfe ipfo facto void,
there could not have fubfifted in this hypothefis
either a real fociety or body politic, or any
other law than that of the ftrongeft. 2dly. Be-
cauſe theſe words ftrong and weak are, in the
fecond cafe, ambiguous; for during the inter-
val between the eſtabliſhment of a right of
property, or prior occupancy, and that of po-
litical government, the intent of theſe words
is better expreffed by the terms rich and poor:
becauſe, in fact, before the inftitution of laws,
men had no other way to reduce their equals
to fubmiffion, than by invading their property,
or by parting with fome of their own property
to them.
3dly. Becauſe the poor, having nothing but
their freedom to loſe, it would have been to the
higheſt degree abfurd in them to refign volun-
tarily
238 ON THE INEQUALITY
tarily the only bleffing they enjoyed, without
receiving any compenſation for it: whereas the
rich, being fenfible, if I may fo exprefs my-
felf, in every part of their poffeffions, it was
much eaſier to do them a miſchief, and therefore
more neceffary for them to guard againſt it, and
in fhort, becauſe it is more reaſonable to ſuppoſe
any thing to have been invented by a perfon to
whom it could be of fervice, rather than by
one to whom it muſt have proved prejudicial.
Government had, in its infancy, no regular
and conftant form. The want of a competent
fund of experience and philofophy preventing
mankind from feeing any but prefent incon-
veniences, they thought not of providing againſt
the future till they prefented themſelves. In
ſpite of the endeavours of their wifeft legifla-
tors, the political ſtate remained imperfect, be-
cauſe it was little more than the work of
chance; and, being ill begun, tho' time fuffici-
ently diſcovered its miſtakes, it could never
remove its original defects. The work of re-
paration was conftantly repeating, inftead of
the area being cleared and the old materials re-
moved, as was done by Lycurgus at Sparta, to
erect a folid and lafting edifice. Civil fociety
confifted at firſt merely of a few general terms
of convention, which every member bound
himſelf to obferve, and for his performance of
covenants the whole body became fecurity to
the reſpective individuals. Experience only
could fhew the weakneſs of fuch a conftitution,
and how eafily it might be infringed with im-
punity, from the difficulty of being convicted
of faults, in which the publick alone were to
be both witness and judge: hence the laws
could
J
OF MANKIND.
239
could not fail of being variouſly eluded; dif-
orders and inconveniences could not fail of be-
ing multiplied, till it became at length neceffary
to commit the dangerous truft of public au-
thority to the hands of private perſons, and the
care of enforcing obedience to the deliberations
of the people to the magiftrate. For to pre-
tend that chiefs were chofen before focial con-
federacies were formed, and that the admini-
ftrators of the laws fubfifted before the laws
themſelves, is a ſuppoſition too abfurd to merit
a ſerious confutation. It would be as little
reaſonable to ſuppoſe that mankind at firſt
threw themſelves at the feet of an abſolute
mafter, without making any conditions with
him, or that the firft expedient which proud
and uncivilized men fhould hit upon for their
common fecurity, was to run precipitately into
flavery. For what reaſon, in fact, did they
take to themſelves fuperiors at all, if it was
not in order that they might by their means be
defended from oppreffion, and protected in
their lives, liberties and properties, which are
in a manner the conftitutional elements of their
being? Now, in the relations between indi-
viduals, the worst that can happen to one man
being to find himſelf fubjected to another, it
would have been inconfiftent with common-
ſenſe to commence by beſtowing on a chief the
only things, which they wanted his affiftance
to preferve. What equivalent was it in his
power to offer them in return for fo ample a
grant? And if he had prefumed to exact it under
pretence of defending them, would he not have
received the anſwer recorded in the fable;
What can we grant more to the enemy? It is
therefore
2
240 ON THE INEQUALITY
therefore beyond difpute, and indeed a funda-
mental maxim in politics, that people have
preferred chiefs to protect not to enslave them.
If we have a prince, faid Pliny to Trajan, it
is in order that he may prevent our having a
maſter.
Politicians are guilty of the fame ſophiſtry in
regard to the love of liberty, as philofophers
are in respect to a ftate of nature.
They
judge by what they fee, of things very different,
which they have not feen; imputing to man a
natural propenfity to fervitude, becauſe the
flaves within their obfervation are ſeen to bear
their yoke without impatience; without reflect-
ing that the cafe of liberty is the fame with
that of innocence or virtue; the value is not
known except by thoſe who poffefs them, and that
a taſte for them is forfeited when they are for-
feited themſelves. I know the charms of your
country, faid Brafidas to a Satrape, who was
comparing the manner of life at Sparta with
that at Perfepolis, but it is out of your power
to taste the pleaſures of mine,
An unbroken horfe erects his mane, paws the
ground and ſtarts back at the fight of the bridle;
while that which is properly trained fuffers
patiently even the whip and fpur: fo favage
man bends not his neck to that yoke, to which
civilized man fubmits without murmuring;
but prefers the moft turbulent ftate of liberty
to the moſt peaceful flavery. It is not there-
fore, from the fervility of nations already en-
flaved, that we muft form our judgment of the
natural difpofitions of mankind either for or
againſt flavery; but rather from the prodigious
efforts of every free people to prevent oppref-
fion.
7
OF MANKIND.
241
fion. I am fenfible that the former are perpe-
tually declaiming in praiſe of that tranquility
they enjoy in their chains, and that they call
a ftate of wretched fervitude a ſtate of peace:
miferrimam fervitutem pacem appellant: But when
I obferve the latter facrificing pleaſure, peace,
wealth, power and even life itſelf to the pre-
ſervation of that only treaſure, which is fo
much difdained by thoſe who have loft it; when
I fee free-born animals dafh their brains out
againſt the bars of their cage, out of an innate
impatience of captivity; when I behold num-
bers of naked favages, that defpife European
pleaſures, braving hunger, fire, the ſword, and
even death itſelf, to preferve their independency;
I feel that it belongs not to flaves to argue about
liberty.
With regard to paternal authority, from
which abfolute government and indeed all
kinds of fociety have teen deduced by many
writers; it will fuffice, without recurring to
the contrary arguments of Locke and Sidney,
to remark that nothing is farther from the
ferocious ſpirit of defpotifm, than the mild-
nefs of that authority which regards more
the advantage of him who obeys than that of
him who commands; that by the law of na-
ture, the father is mafter over the child no
longer than his paternal affiftance is neceffary;
that after that time they become both equal,
the fon being perfectly independent of the
father, and owing him no obedience but only
reſpect. For, as to gratitude; it is a duty
which ought to be paid, but which none hath
a right to exact. Instead of faying that civil
VOL. I. MISC.
M
fociety
242 ON THE INEQUALITY
fociety derives its origin from paternal au-
thority, we ought to fay rather that the latter
derives its principal influence from the former.
No individual was ever acknowledged as the
father of many, till his fons and daughters
fettled about him. The goods of the father,
of which he is really the maſter, are the ties of
his children's dependence, and he may beſtow
on them, if he pleaſes, a fhare of his property,
in proportion as they may have merited it of
him, by paying a conftant obedience to his
will. Now the fubjects of an arbitrary defpot,
are ſo far from having the like favour to expect
from their chief, that they themselves and every
thing they poffefs are his property, or at leaft
are confidered by him as fuch; ſo that they are
forced to receive, as a favour, the little he is
pleaſed to let them enjoy of their own. When
he ftrips them he does them but juftice, and is
merciful that he permits them to live.
·
By proceeding to compare, in this manner,
the matter of fact with the matter of right, we
fhould difcover full as little reafon as truth in
the voluntary eſtabliſhment of tyranny. It
would alſo be no eaſy matter to prove the va-
lidity of a contract, binding only on one of
the contracting parties; who fhould at the fame
time ftake every thing, and the other party no-
thing: fo that none could fuffer by fuch con-
tract but he who had bound himſelf by it. This
hateful fyftem is indeed, even in modern times,
very different from that of wife and good
monarchs, and eſpecially of the kings of France;
as may be ſeen by feveral paffages in their
edicts; particularly by that celebrated one
publiſhed
OF MANKIND.
243
publifhed in 1667 in the name and by the or-
ders of Lewis XIV; which contains the fol-
lowing paffage.
-
"Let it not, therefore, be faid that the
fovereign is not fubject to the laws of his
realm; fince the contrary propofition is a
maxim in the law of nations; which tho'
flattery hath fometimes attacked, good princes
have always defended, as the tutelary divinity
of their dominions. How much more juſt
and rational is it to fay, with the wife Plato,
that the perfect felicity of a kingdom confifts
in the obedience of fubjects to their prince,
that of the prince to the laws, and in the laws
being juft and conſtantly directed to the public
good!"
I ſhall not ſtay here to enquire whether, as
free-will is the nobleft faculty of man, it be
not degrading our very nature; reducing our-
felves to a level with the brutes, the mere flaves
of inftinct; and even an affront to the Author
of our being, to renounce without referve the
moft precious of all his gifts, and to ſubject
ourfelves to the commiffion of all the crimes
he has forbidden us, merely for the gratification
of a mad or cruel mafter; or if this fublime
artiſt ought not to be lefs irritated at feeing
his workmanſhip entirely deftroyed than thus
difhonoured. I fhall afk only, what right thofe,
who were not afraid thus to debaſe themſelves,
could have to fubject their pofterity to the
fame ignominy; and to renounce for them thofe
bleffings which they do not owe to the liberality
of their progenitors, and without which life
itſelf muſt be a burthen to all thoſe who are
worthy of it?
Puffendorf
M 2
244
ON THE INEQUALITY
Puffendorf fays, that we may diveft ourſelves
of our liberty in favour of other men, in the
fame manner as we transfer our property from
one to another by contracts and agreements.
But this ſeems to be a very weak argument. For
in the firſt place, the property I alienate be-
comes quite foreign to me, nor can I ſuffer
from the abuſe of it; but it very nearly concerns.
me that my liberty is not abuſed; and I cannot
without incurring in a great degree the guilt
of what crimes I may be compelled to commit,
expofe myſelf to become the inftrument of any.
Befides, the right of property being only of
human inftitution, men may difpofe of what
they poffefs juſt as they pleafe: but it is not the
fame with the effential bleffings of nature, fuch
as life and liberty; which every man is permit-
ted to enjoy, and of which it is at leaſt dubious
whether any have a right to diveſt themſelves.
By giving up the one, we degrade our being;
by giving up the other, we do all in our power
to annihilate it; and, as no temporal enjoy-
ment can indemnify us for the lofs of either,
it would be an offence at once to reafon and
nature to renounce them upon any account
whatever.
But, tho' it were in our power to transfer
our liberty, as we do our property, yet there
would be a wide difference with regard to our
children, who enjoy our ſubſtance only by vir-
tue of a ceffion of our right; whereas, liberty
being a gift frankly beftowed on them by na-
ture, their parents have no right whatever to
diveft them of it. Hence, to eſtabliſh flavery,
it was evidently neceffary to do violence to na-
ture, and thus it became neceffary to alter na-
7
ture,
OF MANKIND.
245
ture, in order to perpetuate fuch a right. In
the mean time, the civilians who have gravely
determined that the child of a flave comes into
the world a flave, have decided, in other words,
that a man does not come into the world a man.
It appears hence to me inconteftable, that
governments did not commence with arbitrary
power; but that this is the depravation, the
extreme term of government; bringing it back,
at length, to the law of the ftrongeſt; againſt
which it was at firft defigned as a remedy.
Admitting, however, that they had begun in
this manner, fuch power, as it was illegal in
itſelf, could not have ferved as a bafis to the
laws of fociety, nor of confequence to the in-
equality of its inftitution.
Without entering at prefent upon the dif
cuffion, that ftill remains to be made, of the
nature of the fundamental compact of all go-
vernment; I content myfelf with adopting the
common opinion concerning it, and confine
myſelf here to the eſtabliſhment of the political
body as a real contract between the people and
the chiefs elected by them: a contract by which
both parties bind themſelves to obferve the laws
therein expreffed, which form the ties of their
union. The people having in reſpect to the
focial relations fubfifting between them, con-
centrated all their wills in one perfon, the fe-
veral articles, concerning which this will is ex-
plained, become fo many fundamental laws,
obligatory on all the members of the ftate
without diftinction: at the fame time, that one
of theſe laws regulates the choice, and the
power, of the magiftrates, appointed to obſerve
the execution of the whole.
M.3
་
This
246 ON THE INEQUALITY
This power extends to every thing relative
to the fupport and maintenance of the conſti-
tution; but not to any thing that may tend to
alter it. It is accordingly accompanied by
honours, in order to render the laws and the
adminiftrators of them refpectable. Thefe
minifters are alfo diftinguifhed by certain per-
fonal prerogatives, in order to make them fome
recompenfe for the cares and fatigues, infe-
parable from a good adminiſtration. The ma-
giftrate, on his fide, obliges himſelf to uſe the
power he is entrusted with, conformably to
the defign of his conftituents; to maintain them
all in the peaceable poffeffion of their property;
and to prefer on every occafion the public to
his own particular intereft. Before experience
had fhewn, or a knowledge of the human
heart enabled us to foreſee the unavoidable ·
abuſes of fuch a conftitution, it must have ap-
peared fo much the more compleat, as thofe
perfons who were charged with the care of its
prefervation found themſelves intereſted in it;
for the office and privileges of magiftracy being
folely built on the fundamental laws of the
conftitution, the magiſtrates would ceaſe to be
lawful as foon as ever theſe ceafed to exift;
the people would no longer owe them obedi-
ence; and as the laws, not the magiftrates, are
effential to the being of a ſtate, the feveral
members of it would become entitled to their
natural liberty.
If we reflect with ever fo little attention on
this fubject, we fhall find new arguments fug-
geft themſelves in confirmation of its truth,
and that we might be convinced alone from the
very nature of the contract that it cannot be
irrevocable:
OF MANKIND.
247
irrevocable: for, if there were no fuperior
power capable of enſuring the fidelity of the
contracting parties, and of obliging them to
perform their reciprocal engagements, they
would be fole judges in their own cauſe, and
each of them have a right to renounce his
contract, as foon as he found that the other
had violated the terms of it, or that thoſe terms
no longer fuited his private convenience. It
is upon this principle that the right of abdica-
tion may poffibly be founded. Now, to con-
fider only what is merely human in this inftitu-
tion, it is certain that, if the magiftrate, who
has all the power in his own hands, and ap-
propriates to himſelf a'l the advantages of the
contract, hath a right to diveft himſelf of his
authority; the people, who fuffer for all the
faults of their chief, have a much better right
to renounce their dependence on him. But
the terrible and innumerable diforders that
would neceffarily arife from fo dangerous a
privilege, fufficiently demonftrate how much
human governments ftood in need of a more
folid bafis than that of mere human reaſon,
and how expedient it was for the public tran-
quility that providence fhould interpofe to in-
veft the fovereign authority with a facred and
inviolable character; which might deprive fub-
jects of the pernicious right of diſpoſing of it
to whomfoever they pleafed. If the world had
received no other advantages from religion,
this alone would be fufficient to induce man-
kind to adopt and cultivate it, as it hath been
the means of faving more blood than fanaticiſm
hath cauſed to be fpilt. But to follow the clue
of our hypothefis.
$
M 4
The
248
ON THE INEQUALITY
The different forms of government owe their
origin to the inequalities fubfifting between in-
dividuals at the time of their forming themſelves
into a community. If there happened to be
any one man among them greatly pre-eminent
in power, in virtue, in riches or perſonal in-
fluence, he became fole magiftrate, and the
ftate affumed the form of monarchy. If feve-
ral nearly equal in point of eminence ſtood
above the reſt, they were elected jointly, and
formed an aristocracy. Again, among a people
who had deviated lefs from a ſtate of nature,
and between whofe fortune or talents there
was no fuch difproportion, they retained the
fupreme adminiftration in common, and formed
a democracy. It was difcovered in process of
time, which of thefe forms fuited mankind the
beft. Some people remained altogether ſubject
to the laws; others foon became flaves to their
magiftrates. The former laboured to preferve
their liberty; the latter, irritated to ſee others
enjoy a bleffing they had loft, employed their
thoughts folely in making flaves of their neigh-
bours. In fine, the one poffeffed themſelves
of wealth and conqueft, and the other of hap-
pineſs and virtue.
In theſe different governments, the offices
were at first elective; and when the influence
of wealth was out of the queſtion, the pre-
ference was allowed to merit, which gives a
natural afcendant; and to age poffeffed of
experience in bufinefs fedatenefs and delibe-
ration in council. The Elders among the
Hebrews, the Geronts at Sparta, and the Senate
at Rome, nay the very etymology of our word
Seigneur, ferve to fhew how much grey hairs
were
OF MANKIND.
249
were formerly held in veneration. But the
more frequently the choice fell upon old men,
the more frequently it was of courſe to be re-
peated, and the more the trouble of fuch re-
petitions were felt; the intrigues of electioneer-
ing took place; factions were formed; parties.
grew inveterate; civil wars arofe; the lives of
individuals were facrificed to the pretended
welfare of the ſtate; and at length matters were
carried ſo far as to be on the point of relapfing
into their primitive ſtate of anarchy and con-
fufion. The ambition of the chiefs induced
them to profit by thefe circumftances, to per-
petuate their refpective offices in their feveral
families at the fame time the people, ac-
cuftomed to dependence, to eafe, the con-
veniences of life, and already incapable of
breaking their fetters, agreed to augment their
flavery, in order to fecure their tranquility.
Thus it was, that magiftrates became here-
ditary, contracting the habit of confidering
their offices as a family eftate, and themſelves
as proprietors of thofe communities, of which
they were at firft but the officers; to regard
their fellow-citizens as their flaves, and to look
upon them as part of their ftock of cattle;
ftiling themſelves equal to the Gods and Kings
of kings.
If we follow the progrefs of inequality in
theſe different revolutions, we fhall find that
the eſtabliſhment of laws and the right of pro-
perty was the first term of it; the inftitution
of magiftrates the fecond; and the converfion
of legal into arbitrary power the third and
fo that the difference between rich and
laft;
M 5
poor
250
ON THE INEQUALITY
poor were authorized by the firft; that between
the powerful and the weak by the ſecond; and
that between mafter and flave by the third;
the laft being the ultimate degree of inequa-
lity, and that term at which all the reſt having
at length arrived remain, till the government
is entirely diffolved by new revolutions, or
brought back again to a legal conftitution.
·
To comprehend the neceffity of this progrefs,
we are not to confider fo much the motives for
the eſtabliſhment of bodies politic, as the forms
they aſſume in their adminiſtration, and the
inconveniences that neceffarily attend them:
for the vices which render focial inftitutions.
neceffary are the very fame which render the
abuſe of them unavoidable. If we except,
alfo, Sparta alone, whofe laws chiefly regarded
education, and where Lycurgus eftabliſhed
fuch cuſtoms and manners, as in a great mea-
fure rendered laws needlefs; the laws in gene-
ral, being lefs forcible than the paffions, re-
ftrain mankind without altering them; fo that
it would not be difficult to prove that every go-
vernment, which fhould fcrupuloufly comply with
the ends of its inftitution, carefully guarding.
againſt change and corruption, hath been unne-
ceflarily inftituted; for a country, in which no
one fhould either evade the laws or make an ill
ufe of magifterial power, could require neither
laws nor magiftrates.
Political diftinctions
neceffarily induce focial diftinctions. The in-
equality increaſing between the chiefs and the
people, foon becomes perceptible among indi-
viduals, and receives various modifications ac-
cording to paffions, talents and circumftances.
The
OF MANKIND.
251
The magiftrate cannot ufurp any illegal power,
without diſtinguiſhing his creatures, with whom
he muſt ſhare it. Add to this, that individuals
ſuffer themſelves to be oppreffed only in propor-
tion as they are hurried on by a blind ambition;
and looking rather below than above them,
they come in time to love authority more than
independence. When they ſubmit to flavery,
it is only that they may enflave others in turn.
It is no eaſy matter to make him obey, who has
no ambition to command; nor would the moſt
refined policy find it poffible to enflave a peo-
ple who fhould only defire to be independent.
But inequality eafily makes its way among bafe-
and ambitious minds, ever ready to run any risk,
and almoft indifferent whether they command:
or obey, as fortune is favourable or adverfe.
Thus, there muſt have been a time, in which
the ſenſes of the people were faſcinated to fuch
a degree, that their rulers had only to ſay to
the moſt pitiful wretch, "Be great, you and
all your pofterity," to make him immediately
appear great in the eyes of every one as well
as his own. His defcendents took ftill more
upon them, and that in proportion to their
diſtance; the more obfcure and uncertain the
caufe, the greater the effect: the greater number
of idlers any family had produced, the more
illuftrious it was accounted.
If this were a place to defcend to minute:
particulars, I could readily explain how inequa-
lities in point of credit and authority be--
came unavoidable among private perſons, (19):
as foon as ever their union obliged them to
compare themſelves one with another, and to
M. 6.
Ie.
252 ON THE INEQUALITY
remark the differences which they find by the
continual uſe every man muft make of his
neighbour. Thefe differences are of feveral
kinds; but riches, rank, power and perfonal
merit, being the principal diſtinctions, by which
men form an eftimate of each other, in a ſtate
of fociety, I could prove that the harmony or
incongruity of theſe different forces, is the
fureft indication of the good or bad original
conftitution of any ftate. I could fhew that
among theſe four kinds of inequality, perſonal
qualities being the origin of all the others,
wealth is that in which they all terminate; be-
cauſe tending moft immediately to the profpe-
rity of individuals, and being the moſt eaſy of
communication, riches are made ufe of to pur-
chafe every other diftinction.
We are enabled to judge, by this obfervation,
pretty exactly, how far a people may have de-
viated from their primitive inftitution, and
how far they have ftill to go, ere they arrive
at the extreme term of corruption. I could
explain how much this univerfal defire of re-
putation, honour and preference, with which
we are all inflamed, exercifes our faculties and
powers; how much it excites and multiplies
our paffions; and, by creating an univerfal
competition, or rather enmity among man-
kind, occafions numberlefs diſappointments,
and cataſtrophies among the innumerable pre-
tenders whom it engages to enter on the fame
career. I could fhew that it is to this defire of
being talked of, to this unremitting rage of
diftinguiſhing ourfelves, that we owe the very
beſt, and the worst things among us, our vir-
tues
OF MANKIND.
253
tues and our vices; our ſciences and our er-
rours, our heroes and our philofophers; that
is to fay, a great many bad things, and a very
few good ones. In a word, I could prove that,
if we have a few rich and powerful men placed
on the pinnacle of fortune and grandeur, while
the groveling croud are in want and obſcurity,
it is becauſe the former prize what they enjoy
only in the degree that others are deftitute of
it; and that, without changing their condition,
they would ceafe to be happy the moment the
people ceaſed to be miferable.
Theſe particulars alone, however, would
furniſh matter for a more confiderable perfore
mance; in which might be eſtimated the advan-
tages and difadvantages of every fpecies of go-
vernment, relatively to man in a ſtate of nature,
and at the ſame time might be unveiled all the
different appearances which inequality hath at
times put on to this day, and may hereafter put
on, even to the end of time, according to the
nature of thoſe ſeveral governments, and thoſe
alterations in them which muft unavoidably be
occafioned by time. We fhould then behold
the multitude oppreffed by domeftic tyrants, in
confequence of the very precautions taken to
guard against foreign tyrants. We ſhould fee
oppreffion continually gain ground without its
being poffible for the oppreffed to know where
it would ſtop, or what lawful means might
be left them to check its progrefs. We fhould
ſee the rights of individuals, and the freedom of
nations by flow degrees extinguiſhed, and the
complaints, protefts and appeals of the weak
neglected as feditious murmurings. We fhould
fee
254 ON THE INEQUALITY
fee the honour of defending the common caufe
confined by policy, to a mercenary part of the
people. We fhould fee impofts and taxes ren-
dered neceffary by fuch means; and the dif-
heartened hufbandman leave his fields even in.
the midſt of peace, and quit the plough to
take up the fword. We fhould fee fatal and
capricious maxims eſtabliſhed with regard to
points of honour; the champions of their coun-
try fooner or later becoming her enemies,
and perpetually pointing their fwords to the
breafts of their fellow-citizens. The time
would even come when they might be heard.
to ſay to the oppreffor of their country,
Pectore fi fratris gladium juguloque parentis
Condere me jubeas, gravidæque in vifcera partu
Conjugis, in vitâ peragam tamen omnia dextrâ.
From the great inequality of fortunes and
conditions, from the vaft variety of paffions
and of talents, of uſeleſs and pernicious arts,.
of frivolous fciences, would ariſe a multitude
of prejudices equally contrary to reaſon, hap-
pinefs and virtue. We fhould fee the magif-
trates foment every thing that might ferve to.
weaken men united in fociety, by promoting
divifions among them; every thing that fows
in it the feeds of actual divifion, while it breathes
the air of apparent harmony; every thing that:
can infpire the different ranks of people with
mutual hatred and diftruft, by an oppofition.
of their rights and interefts, and of courfe
ftrengthen that power which comprehends them
all.
It
OF MANKIND.
255
It is from the midſt of this diſorder and theſe
revolutions, that defpotifm, gradually rearing.
up its frightful head, and devouring every thing
that remained found and untainted in any part
of the ftate, would at length trample both on
the laws and the people, and eſtabliſh herſelf
on the ruins of the republick. The times
which fhould immediately precede this laft
change, would be times of trouble and calamity;
but at length the monfter would fwallow up every
thing, and the people would no longer have ei-
ther chiefs or laws; but merely tyrants. From.
this inftant there would be no longer any re-
gard paid to virtue or morals: for defpotifm.
cui ex honefto nulla eft fpes, wherever it prevails,
admits of no other mafter; it no fooner ſpeaks
than probity and duty loſe their influence; the
moft implicit obedience being the only virtue
which flaves can practife..
This is the laft term of inequality, the point
that cloſes the circle, and meets that from which
we ſet out. Here it is that private perfons re-
turn to their primitive equality, becauſe they,
are no longer of importance; and that, fub-
jects having no longer any law but the will of
their mafter, nor their mafter any other reſtraint.
than his paffions, all notions of moral good
and all principles of equity vanish. It is here.
that every thing returns to the law of the
ſtrongeſt, and of courſe to a new ſtate of na-
ture, differing from what we ſet out from; as
that was a ſtate of nature in its firft purity, and
this the confequence of exceffive corruption..
There is fo little difference between the two
fates in other refpects, and the contract of go-
vernment
256 ON THE INEQUALITY
vernment is ſo far diffolved by defpotifm, that
the defpot is no longer maſter than while he re-
mains the ſtrongeft; but as foon as he can be
expelled, he may be fo without having any
right to complain of injuftice. The popular
infurrection, that ends in the death or depo-
fition of a fultan, is as lawful an act as thofe
by which he might, the day before, difpofe of
the lives and fortunes of his fubjects. As he was
fupported alone by force, fo is he by the ſame
force fubverted. Thus every thing takes place
according to natural order; and whatever may
be the event of fuch frequent and precipitate
revolutions, no one man has reaſon to complain
of the injuftice of another, but only of his own
ill-fortune or indifcretion.
In thus purfuing the almoft obliterated traces,
by which man hath paffed from a ſtate of na-
ture, to a ftate of fociety; by restoring with
the intermediate fituations which I have point-
ed out, thoſe which want of time hath obliged
me to fupprefs, or my imagination hath not
fuggefted; the attentive reader cannot fail to be
ftruck at the vaft diftance which feparates the
two ftates. It is in tracing this flow fucceffion
of things he may find the folution of a number
of problems in politics and morals, which phi-
lofophers find it very difficult to folve.
He will perceive that, mankind being different
in different ages, the reaſon why Diogenes could
not find out a man, was that he fought among
his contemporaries the man of an earlier pe-
riod. He will fee that Cato fell with Rome and
liberty, becauſe he did not fuit the age in which
he lived; the greateſt of men ferving only to
aftoniſh that world, which would have readily
obeyed
OF MANKIND.
257
obeyed him, had he lived five hundred years
fooner. In a word, he will find himſelf in a
condition to comprehend how the foul, and the
paffions of men change as it were by infenfible
alterations, their very nature; how our wants
and pleaſures in the end change their objects;
and how the original man vaniſhing by de-
grees, fociety offers to our infpection only an
affemblage of artificial men and factitious paf-
fions; the work of theſe feveral new relations,
and without any foundation in nature.
We
are taught nothing on this fubject, by reflection,
but what is entirely confirmed by experience.
The favage and the civilized man differ fo much
with regard to their paffions and inclinations,
that thoſe things which conftitute the happineſs
of the one, would reduce the other to defpair.
The first requires nothing but fuftenance, liber-
ty and reft; he defires only to live and be exempt
from labour; nay the apathy of the ftoic falls
fhort of his confummate indifference for every
other object.
Civilized man is, on the contrary, perpetually
in motion, fweating, toiling and racking his
brains to find out occupations ftill more labo-
rious he continues drudging to his laſt mo-
ment, and even feeks death to put himſelf in a
fituation to live, or renounces life to acquire
immortality. He pays his court to men in
power, whom he hates; and to the wealthy,
whom he deſpiſes; he ftops at nothing in order
to have the honour of ferving them; he is not
aſhamed to value himſelf on his own meanneſs
and their protection; while, proud of his
chains, he ſpeaks with difdain of thoſe, who
have
258
ON THE INEQUALITY
have not the honour of wearing them as well
as himſelf.
What a fight would the perplexing and en-
vied labours of an European minifter of ftate,
preſent to the eyes of a Carribean! What a
cruel death would not this indolent favage pre-
fer to fuch a horrid life, the labours of which
are ſeldom even fweetened by the pleaſure of
doing good! But, to fee into the motives of
all this folicitude, it is requifite that the words
power and reputation, fhould have fome mean-
ing affixed to them in his mind; it is requifite
he fhould know that there are men who fet a
value on the looks of the reft of mankind:
who can be made happy and ſatisfied with them-
felves rather on the teftimony of other people
than on their own. In reality, the fource of all
thefe differences is, that the favage lives within
himſelf; while the citizen conftantly lives be-
fide himſelf, ftudying only how to live in the
opinion of others; infomuch that he feems to
receive the conſciouſneſs of his own exiſtence
merely from the judgment of others concern-
ing him. It is not to my prefent purpoſe to
infift on the great indifference for good and evil
which takes rife from this difpofition, in fpite
of our many fine difcourfes of morality; or to
fhew how every thing of this kind being reduc-
ed to appearances, all is mere art and mum-
mery, including even honour, friendſhip, vir-
tue, and often even vice itſelf, of which we at
length learn the fecret to make our boaſt; to
fhew, in fhort, how being ever on the inquiry
of others what we are, and never daring to
afk ourfeves fo delicate a queftion, in the midft
of
OF MANKIND.
259
of fo many fublime maxims of philofophy,
humanity and politenefs, we have nothing to
fhew for ourſelves but a frivolous and deceit-
ful external appearance; honour without vir-
tue, reafon without wiſdom, and pleaſure with-
out happineſs.
It is fufficient that I have proved this not to
be the original ftate of man; but that it is
merely the spirit of fociety, and the inequality
which fociety produces, that thus transform and
diverfify all our natural inclinations.
Thus have I endeavoured to trace the origin
and diſplay the progreſs of the inequality of
mankind; with the inftitution and abuſe of po-
litical focieties, as far as theſe things are ca-
pable of being deduced from the nature of man
merely by the light of reafon, and independent
of thofe facred tenets which give the fanction
of divine right to ſovereign authority. The
inferences which may be drawn from a view
of this exhibition, are, first, that as there is
hardly any inequality among men in a ſtate of
nature, all the inequality which now prevails,
owes its ſtrength and growth to the develop-
ment of our faculties and the improvement of
our underſtanding; becoming at length perma-
nent and lawful by the eſtabliſhment of pro-
perty and the inftitution of laws. Secondly, it
follows that a moral inequality, authorized by
any right merely arbitrary, claſhes with natural
right, as often as it does not combine in the
ſame proportion as phyſical inequality; a dif-
tinction which determines fufficiently what we
ought to think of that fpecies of inequality
which prevails in all civilized countries; fince
it
260 ON THE INEQUALITY
it is plainly contrary to the law of nature, that
infants fhould command old men, fools con-
duct philofophers, and that the privileged few
fhould gorge themſelves with fuperfluities, while
the ſtarving multitude are in want of the com-
mon neceffaries of life.
NOTES.
OF MANKIND.
261
NOTE S.
DEDICATION, Page 139.
(1.)
H
Erodotus relates that, after the
murder of the falfe Smerdis, the
feven deliverers of Perfia, being affembled in
order to deliberate on the form of government,
which was moft proper to adopt for the ſtate,
Otanes ftrongly recommended the republican;
a piece of advice the more extraordinary as it
came from a Satrape, who might have formed.
ſome pretenfions to the throne: befides, men
in power generally dread more than death a
fpecies of government, which obliges them to
reſpect other men. This advice of Ōtanes was,
as we may well conceive, totally disregarded:
ſeeing the reft therefore proceeding to the elec-
tion of a monarch, and being neither defirous
to command or obey, he voluntarily gave his
right to the crown among the other competi-
tors, requiring only that he and his poſterity.
fhould remain free and independent, which was
granted. Now, though Herodotus had not ac-
quainted us with the bounds fet to this privi-
lege, we fhould be obliged to fuppofe it had
fome limits; otherwiſe Ōtanes, acknowledging
no kind of legal reſtraint, nor being bound to
give any one an account of his conduct, would
have been fo powerful that he might have
done
262 ON THE INEQUALITY
done what he pleaſed; even more powerful than
the King himſelf. But there was little proba-
bility that a man, capable of contenting him-
felf with fuch a privilege on ſuch an occafion,
ſhould ever make a bad uſe of it. In fact, it
does not appear that this privilege ever caufed
the leaſt diſturbance in the kingdom, either from
the prudent Otanes or any of his deſcendants.
PREFACE, Page 153.
2.) I build with confidence, at my firft
fetting out, on one of thoſe authorities which
are refpected by philofophers, becauſe derived
from folid and fublime reafons; which they
alone know how to difcover.
"However interefting may be the know-
ledge of ourſelves, I am not clear that we are
not much better acquainted with thofe things
that do not belong to us. Furniſhed by nature
with organs folely adapted to our prefervation,
we employ them only in receiving foreign im-
preffions. We feek only to extend our being,
and exift out of ourfelves; too bufy in mul-
tiplying the offices of our fenfes, and increafing
the external fenfe, which contracts us within
our real dimenſions, and ſeparates every thing
external from our being. It is this fenfe, how-
ever, that we ought to employ in acquiring
felf-knowledge, as it is the only one by which
we can form a judgment of ourſelves. But the
difficulty lies in giving this ſenſe its activity and
whole extent, and in clearing the foul, where-
in it refides, of every illufion of the under-
ſtanding. We have loft the habit of employ-
ing it, fo that it hath long remained in a ſtate
of inactivity, amidſt all the tumult of our cor-
8
poreal
OF MANKIND.
263
poreal fenfations, dried up by the fire of our
paffions the heart, the mind, the fenfes all
have laboured against it." Hift. Nat. T.
151. de la Nat. de l'homme.
4. p.
DISSERTATION, Page 168.
(3.) The changes which may have been
produced in the conformation of man's body,
by the habit of walking upon two legs, the fi-
militude alfo ftill obfervable between his arms
and the fore-legs of quadrupeds, together with
the inferences to be drawn from their manner of
walking, are fufficient to give occafion to fome
doubt which was the moft natural to us. Chil-
dren begin to walk by fcrabbling on all-fours,
and require both precept and example to ſuſtain
themſelves upright. There are even fome fa-
vage nations, as the Hottentots for inſtance,
who, being careleſs of their children, fuffer
them to walk fo long on their hands, that it is
with great difficulty they bring them afterwards
to aſſume an erect pofture. It is the fame with
the children of the Carribeans, and other Weft-
India favages. I could even produce feveral in-
ftances of human quadrupeds: particularly
that of the child, who was found, in 1344,
near Heffe-Caffel, where he had been fuckled
by wolves, and who ufed to fay afterwards at
Prince Henry's court, that if it were left to his
choice, he would rather return to live with the
wolves again, than to live among mankind.
He had contracted fo invincible an habit of
walking on his hands, that it was neceſſary to
faften pieces of wood to him fo as to keep him
upright on his feet. It was the fame with
another child, found in 1694 in the forefts of
Li-
264 ON THE INEQUALITY
Lichuania, and trained up among bears. M.
de Condillac fays, he did not fhew the leaft
fign of reafon, but walked on his hands and
feet, and had no articulate ſpeech, but uttered
fome uncouth founds unlike the language of
other men. The little favage, carried from
Hanover to the court of England fome years
ago, was with great difficulty brought to walk
upon his legs. In 1719 two other favages were
found in the Pyrenean mountains, running up
and down like quadrupeds. It is objected, in-
deed, that by walking upon our hands, we
ſhould loſe the ufe of them in many other re-
fpects, wherein they are uſeful to us. But, not
to infiſt on the practice of monkeys, by which
it is plain the hand may be employed both ways,
this argument could only prove, that man may
give to his members a more commodious dif-
tinction than that of nature, but not that na-
ture deſtined man to walk otherwife than fhe
teaches him to walk.
But there appears to me much ſtronger rea-
fons, for affirming that man is naturally a biped.
In the first place, if it could be fhewn, that
man might have originally been formed other-
wife, and in time become what he now is; this
would not be fufficient to make us conclude
that it did really fo happen. For, though the pof-
fibility of fuch a change were proved, it would
be ftill requifite to fhew fome probability at
leaft of its having actually happened, before we
admitted of its certainty. Befides, admitting
that the arms might, in cafe of neceffity, ferve for
legs, it is the fole argument in favour of the
fyftem; whereas there are many others to con-
tradict it. I fhall mention the principal; in
、
the
OF MANKIND.
265
the first place, the manner in which the head
of man is affixed to his body, inſtead of giving
his eyes an horizontal direction, fuch as thoſe
of all other animals have, and as he has himſelf
when walking erect, directs them downwards
to the earth, a fituation very unfavourable to the
preſervation of the individual. Secondly, the
tail, which nature hath not beftowed on man,
and which he hath no need of in walking, is
fo ufeful to quadrupeds that none of them are
without it. Thirdly, the pofition of the breaſts
of the females is peculiarly adapted to bi-
peds, which hold their children in their arms,
and would be fo inconvenient to quadrupeds,
that not one of them hath thofe parts in the
fame manner. Fourthly, the legs and thighs
are fo very long in proportion to the hands and
arms, that we ſhould be forced to crawl upon
our knees, in walking on all-fours, and be
very ill-proportioned animals and very unfit for
walking. Fifthly, if fuch an animal fhould
lay his foot, as well as his hand, flat on the
earth, he would have in the hinder-leg a joint
leſs than other animals, viz. that which joins
the canon to the tibia. Befides, ftanding on
the tip of the foot, as he muft doubtlefs be
forced to do, the tarfus, not to infiſt upon its
being compofed of fo many bones, muſt have
been too large to ferve the purpoſe of the ca-
non; and the articulations with the metatarſus
and tibia too near each other to afford the leg,
in that fituation, the degree of flexibility ob-
fervable in the legs of quadrupeds. The ex-
ample of children, being taken from an age at
which our natural forces are not as yet deve-
loped, nor our limbs arrived at their full ftrength,
VOL. I. MISC.
N
proves
266 ON THE INEQUALITY
proves nothing; and I might as well affirm that
dogs are not originally formed to walk, becauſe
that for fome days after they are littered, they
are able only to crawl. Particular facts are alfo
of no great validity againſt the univerfal prac-
tice of mankind; even of nations which, hav-
ing no commerce orcommunication with others,
cannot be ſuſpected of having copied them. A
child indeed, deferted in a foreft before he had
ftrength to walk, and fuckled by fome beaft,
would of courfe follow the example of its nurfè,
and endeavour to walk like her. Hence habit
might give him a facility of doing what was
not intended for him by nature: even as a man
who, having loft his hands, may bring himself
by dint of exerciſe to do thoſe things with his
feet, which he hath been uſed to do with his
hands; fo might ſuch a deſerted child acquire
at length a facility of employing his hands to
the purpoſes deſtined by nature for its feet.
Page 169.
(4.) If there fhould be found among my
readers any one of them fo poor a naturalift,
as to object to the fuppofition of this natural
fertility of the earth, I fhall anſwer him with
the following quotation.
"As vegetables derive, for their fupport,
more fubftance from the air and water than
from the earth, fo, when they decay, they re-
ftore more to the earth than they received from
it: befides forefts engrofs large quantities of
rain water by ftopping the vapours that would
form it. Thus, in woods where the earth lies.
untouched for any confiderable time, the ftra-
tum of earth containing the principles of vege
tation
OF MANKIND.
267
tation muſt have received a great quantity of
them. But animals reftoring to the earth lefs
than they derive from it, and men confuming
vast quantities of vegetables for fuel and other
purpofes, it follows that, in populous countries,
the ftratum of vegetating earth is conftantly on
the decay, and muft become at laſt like the fur-
face of Arabia Petrea, and many other parts of
the eaft (the parts of the world which in fact
were earlieft inhabited) where nothing is at
preſent to be found but falt and fand, the fixed
falt of plants and animals always ftaying be-
hind, while all the other parts of bodies be-
come volatile and fly off." Mr. de Buffon, Hift.
Nat.
To this may be added the teftimony of mat-
ter of fact, in the vast quantity of trees and
plants of every kind, with which the defert
iflands, difcovered in the latter centuries, were
found covered; and in the immenfe woods which,
we learn from hiftory, have been cut down in
all parts of the world, in proportion as they be-
came more populous, and the people more civi-
lized. On this I fhall make the three follow-
ing remarks. The firft is, that, if there are
any vegetables capable of replacing the veget-
able matter confumed by animals, according to
Buffon, they must be fuch trees as by their
leaves and branches collect the greateft quan-
tity of water and vapour. The fecond is, that
the deftruction of the foil, viz. the loſs of ſub-
ftance fit for vegetation, cannot fail to increaſe
în proportion as the earth is cultivated, and as
its inhabitants, grown more induftrious, con-
fume its productions in greater quantities. The
N 2
third,
268 ON THE INEQUALITY
"
third, and moſt important obfervation is, that
the fruits of trees afford animals a more plenti-
ful nutriment than they can expect from other
vegetables. This I have myfelf experimented;
having compared the produce of two pieces of
land of equal area and quality, the one fown
with wheat, and the other planted with chefnút
trees.
Page 169.
(5.) Among quadrupeds, the two moſt uni-
verfal diftinctions of the carnivorous' tribes
are deduced, one from the figure of the teeth,
and the other from the conformation of the in-
teftines. The animals, that fubfift on vege-
tables, have all of them blunt teeth, 'as the
horfe, the ox, the fheep, the hare; but the
teeth of carnivorous animals are fharp, as thofe
of the cat, the dog, the wolf, and the fox.
As to the inteſtines, the frugivorous have fome,
fuch as the colon, which are not to be found in
the carnivorous animals. It feems therefore
that, the teeth and inteftines of man being like
thoſe of frugivorous animals, he fhould natu-
rally be ranged in this claſs. This queſtion
alfo, is not only confirmed by anatomical ob-
fervations, but is greatly favoured by the mo-
numents of antiquity.
"Dicearchus, faith St. Jerom, relates in
"his books of Grecian antiquities, that dur-
❝ing the reign of Saturn, when the Earth was
* as yet
fertile of itſelf, no man eat fleſh, but
{
all lived upon the fruits and pulfe which
' were naturally produced." (Lib. 2. Adv.
Jovinian.) It will be feen here, that I give up
many
OF MANKIND,
269
many advantages of which I might avail my-
felf in this argument. For prey being almoſt
the fole object of quarrel among carnivorous
animals, while the frugivorous live together in
conftant peace and harmony, it is evident that
if men were of this laſt kind, they would find
it much more eaſy to fubfift in a ftate of na-
ture, and much lefs occafion to leave it.
Page 171.
(6.) All thofe fciences which require reflection,
that are not to be attained without purſuing a,
chain of ideas, and that can only be brought to
perfection fucceffively, feem to be entirely beyond
the reach of favage man, for want of commu-
nication with his fellow favages; that is to fay,
for want of the inftrument which fhould ferve
to fuch communication, and of thofe wants.
which render it neceffary. His knowledge and
induſtry are confined to leaping, running,
fighting, throwing ftones and climbing trees.
But if on the one hand, he can do nothing
more, he is on the other hand, much more ex-
pert at theſe exerciſes than we. Yet as fkill
and expertneſs in fuch exercifes depends alto-
gether on practice, and cannot be communi-
cated or tranfmitted from one individual to
another, the firſt man might poffibly have been
as dexterous at them as the lateſt of his poſ-
terity.
The relations of voyagers are full of exam-
ples of the vigour and ſtrength of men in bar-
barous countries; they fpeak little lefs alfo of
their addreſs and agility; and as men ftood in
need only of their eyes to make fuch obferva-
tions, nothing prevents our giving credit to the
N 3
tefti-
270 ON THE INEQUALITY
teftimony of ocular witneffes on thefe occa-
fions. I fhall cite a few examples from the
first books that come to hand.
"The Hottentots, fays Kolben, are better
fishermen than the Europeans who refide at
the Cape. They are equally dexterous at the
ufe of the hook, the net, or the dart, in the
creeks, on the fea-fhore, and in the rivers.
They are no leſs expert alfo at catching fiſh
with their hands; at fwimming they are in-
comparable; having fomething very peculiar and
furprizing in their manner; which is to carry
themſelves erect with their hands above water,
fo that they appear to walk upon the ground;
and even upon the moft mountainous fea to
dance, in a manner, on the backs of the
waves, rifing and defcending with them like
pieces of cork.”
We are told, by the fame author in another
place, that the Hottentots are amazingly
dexterous at hunting; and that their fwiftnefs
of foot is altogether inconceivable. He won-
ders that they do not more frequently make a
bad ufe of this agility; for that they do it
fometimes we may learn by the following ex-
ample, which he relates of them,
A Dutch fea-man, coming afhore at the
cape, engaged an Hottentot to carry for him
to the town, a roll of tobacco about twenty
pounds weight; but when they had got to
fome little diftance from the reft of the com-
pany, the Hottentot aſked the failor if he could
run. Run! anfwered the Dutchman, yes, very
well. Come on then, let us fee, replied the
African; and, immediately taking to his heels,
was out of fight with the tobacco in an inſtant.
The
OF MANKIND.
275
The failor, aftoniſhed at the ſwiftnefs of the
favage, deſpaired of overtaking him, and never
faw either his porter or his tobacco afterwards."
""
"Their fight is fo quick, and their hand'
fo certain that the Europeans cannot come near
them in theſe refpects. They will, for in-
ftance, throw a ftone at a mark no bigger than
a halfpenny, and hit it at an hundred paces
diftance; and, what is ftill more furprizing,
inftead of fixing their eyes on it, they run to
and fro, and writhe their bodies fo ftiangely all
the while, that one would be apt to think the
ftone was directed by an invifible hand."
Father du Tertre tells nearly the fame story
of the favages of the weſtern iflands, as we
read in Kolsen of the Hottentots of the cape
of Good Hope: but he extols chiefly their
dexterity in ſhooting with arrows fo as to hit
the birds as they fly, and the fifh as they fwin;
which they afterwards take by diving for them.
The favages of North America are no lefs fa-
mous for their ftrength and dexterity; nor are
thofe of South America behind them, if we
may judge from the following example.
1
In the year 1746 an Indian of Buenos Ayres,
having been condemned to the gallies at Cadiz,
propoſed to the governor to purchafe his liberty
by hazarding his life at an enſuing publick
feftival; engaging to attack the most furious
bull they fhould bring, without any other wèa-
pon than a rope; to bring him to the ground
and faften his rope to any part of him he ſhould
be ordered; to faddle him, bridle him; and
then, mounting on his back, to fight two more.
of the moſt furious bulls they could turn out
of the Torillo, and kill them both one after
N 4
another
•
272 ON THE INEQUALITY
another at the word of command; and all this
alone and without any affiftance whatever.
The governor accepted the propoſal, and the
Indian was as good as his word; performing
every thing he had promifed. For a defcrip-
tion of the manner he went about it, and the
other particulars of this extraordinary engage-
ment, I refer the reader to the firft volume of
Mr. Gautier's Obfervations on natural history, from
which I have taken the above account.
Page 173.
(7.) "The length of life in horfes, Mr. de
Buffon tells us, is proportionable to the length
of time elapfed during their growth, as it is
in every other ſpecies of animals. Man, who
is fourteen years growing, may live fix or ſeven
times as long, that is ninety or an hundred
years. The horſe, whofe growth is performed
in four years, may in like manner live fix or
feven times as long, viz. twenty five or thirty
years. The examples which may be cited in
contradiction to this rule, are fo few, that they
ought not to be regarded as exceptions, from
which any confequences may be drawn to in-
validate the rule itfelf: but as large horfes reach.
their full fize in a much shorter time than thofe
of a more flender and delicate make, fo they
are ſhorter lived, and even old at fifteen."
Page 173.
(8.) I fee another difference, methinks, be-
tween carnivorous and frugivorous animals, ftill
more general than that laid down in note (5);
as it extends even to the birds. This difference
confifts in the number of their young; which
with
OF MANKIND.
273
with thoſe animals that live upon vegetables
never exceeds two at a litter, but is generally
greater with thofe of the carnivorous kind. It
is eaſy to ſee the defign of nature in this refpec
by the number of teats; which is never more
than two in females of the firſt kind, as the
máre, the cow, the goat, the doe, the fheep, &c.
and always fix or eight in females of the other
kind, as the bitch, the cat, the wolf, the
tygrefs, &c.As to birds, the hen, the goofe,
the duck, which are all carnivorous, as are
alfo the eagle, the fparrow-hawk and the owl,
they all lay and hatch a great number of eggs;
a circumſtance never known of the pigeon, the
dove, or thofe other birds which eat nothing
but grain. Thefe rarely lay and hatch more
than two eggs at a time. The reaſon for this
difference may be, that thofe animals, who
fubfift altogether on plants and herbs, being
obliged to ſpend the greater part of the day in
foraging, and thus requiring a great deal of
time to feed themſelves, it would be impoffible
for them to give fuck to many young ones;
whereas carnivorous animals making their meal
in a minute or two, may with greater eafe and fre-
quency, go and come between their young and
their prey, repairing the wafte of fo great a
quantity of milk. Many other obfervations and
reflections might be made with propriety on
this head; but this is not the place for them:
it is alſo ſufficient for my purpoſe that I have,
in this part of my performance, pointed out
the moft general fyftem of nature, a fyftem
which affords a new reafon for removing man
from the clafs of carnivorous to that of fru-
givorous animals.
NS
(9.) A
274 ON THE INEQUALITY
Page 180.
(9.) A celebrated author, in calculating
the good and evil of human life, and com-
paring the fums total of our pains and plea-
fures, hath diſcovered that the firft greatly ex-
ceeded the laft; fo that every thing confidered,
human life is no fuch, valuable. gift. I am not
furprized at theſe conclufions; as this writer
drew his arguments from a view of man in his
civilized ftate. Had he taken a retrofpect to
him in a state of nature, it is plain the refult
of his inquiries would have been very different,
and that man would have appeared to him fub-
ject to very few evils but thoſe of his own
creating; to the exculpation of nature.
It
hath coft us not a little to make ourſelves fo
miferable as we are. When we confider, on
the one hand, the immenfe labours of man-
kind, the many fciences brought to perfection,
the arts invented, the powers employed, the
deeps filled up, the mountains levelled, the
rocks torn aſunder, the rivers made navigable,
the tracts of land cleared,. lakes emptied,
marſhes drained,, enormous ftructures erected,
on land, and the floating caftles that cover the
fea; and on the other hand, eftimate with ever
fo little attention, the real advantages that have,
accrued from all theſe works to mankind, we
cannot help ftanding amazed at the vaft dif-
proportion there is between theſe things, and.
deploring the infatuation of man, which, to
gratify his filly pride and I know not what,
felf-admiration, induces him eagerly to purſue
all the miferies he is capable of feeling; and
which beneficent nature had kindly placed at.
a diftance from him.
Men.
¡
OF MANKIND:
275
Men are actually wicked; deplorable and con--
ftant experience renders any argument to prove
this unneceffary: man, however, is naturally
good: this I think I have demonftrated. What
can have depraved him then to fuch a degree,
except the changes that have happened in his
conſtitution, his improvements and the know-
ledge he hath acquired? We may affect to
admire the economy of fociety as we pleafe;
it will not be the lefs true that it neceffarily
leads men to hate each other in proportion as
their interefts claſh; or that it induces men to
do each other apparent fervices, while they
are really doing each other all imaginable mif-
chief. What can be thought of a commerce,.
in which the intereft of every individual dictates
maxims directly, oppofite to thofe, which the
publick good determines to be for the intereft-
of the community in general; a commerce in.
which every man finds his account in the mif-
fortunes of his neighbour? There is not per-
Haps any man in eafy, or opulent, circum--
ftances, whofe death his avaricious heirs, and
perhaps his children, do not fecretly wish for;
not a ſhip at fea, whofe lofs would not be good
news to fome merchant or other; not a houſe,
which fome debtor would not be glad to fee.
reduced to afhes with all the papers it contains;
not a nation which does not rejoice at the
difafters that befall its neighbours. Thus it is
that we find our advantage in the misfortuncs
of our fellow-creatures, and that the lofs of
one man almoſt always conftitutes the profperity
of another. But what is ftill more pernicious,.
public calamities are ever the objects of the
hopes and expectations of particular perfons:
Somer
N 6
1
276 ON THE INEQUALITY
Some wish for fickneſs, others for mortality,
fome for war, and ſome for famine. I have ſeen
men wicked enough to weep for forrow at the
appearance of a plentiful ſeaſon; and the great
and fatal fire of London, which coft fo many
unhappy perſons their lives or their fortunes,
proved the making of the fortunes perhaps of
above ten thouſand other perſons. I know that
Montaigne cenfures Demades the Athenian,
for having caufed an artizan to be punished,
who, felling his coffins very dear, was thereby
a great gainer by the deaths of his fellow-
citizens; but the reafon alleged by Montaigne
would argue for every man's being puniſhed,
and tends to confirm my argument. Let us
penetrate, therefore, the fuperficial appearances
of benevolence, and take a furvey of what
paffes in the inmoft receffes of the heart. Let
us reflect on what muſt neceffarily be the ftate
of things, in which men are forced to carefs
and injure each other at the fame time; and in
which they are born enemies by duty, and knaves
by intereft. It will be objected perhaps, that
fociety is fo formed that every man is a gainer
by ſerving the reft. It may be fo, but does he
not gain ftill more by injuring them? There
is no lawful profit fo great, but it may be
greatly exceeded by what may be made unlaw-
fully; for we always gain more by hurting our
neighbours than by doing them good. No-
thing more is required than for us to know how
to act with impunity; and to this end the
powerful employ all their force, and the weak
all their cunning.
Savage man, when he has dined, is at peace
with all nature, and the friend of all his fellow-
creatures.
OF MANKIND.
277
Créatures. If a diſpute ſhould ever happen
about a meal; he rarely comes to blows, with
out having firft compared the difficulty of con-
quering his antagoniſts, with the trouble of
finding fubfiftence elſewhere: and, as pride
has no fhare in the fcuffle, it ends in a few
blows; the victor eats, and the vanquished
feeks his proviſion in fome other place, and
all is quiet. The cafe is quite different with
man in a ſtate of fociety; for whom neceffaries
are firſt to be provided, then fuperfluities; de-
licacies next follow, then wealth, then fubjects,
and then flaves. . He enjoys not the leaft re-
laxation; but, what is moſt extraordinary, the
lefs natural and preffing are his wants, the
more headſtrong are his paffions; and, what is
ftill worſe, the more he has it in his power to
gratify them; fo that after a long ſeries of pro-
ſperity, after having fwallowed up treaſures
and ruined multitudes, the hero clofes the fcene
by cutting every throat till he finds himſelf, at
laft, fole maſter of an empty world. Such is
in miniature the moral picture, if not of human
life, at leaſt of the fecret pretenfions of civi-
lized man.
Compare without partiality the ſtate of the
citizen with that of the favage, and trace out,
if you can, how many inlets the former hath
opened to pain and, death, befides thoſe of his
vices, his wants and his misfortunes. If you
reflect on the mental afflictions that prey on us,
the violent paffions that waſte us, the exceffive
labour with which the poor are burthened, the ftill
more dangerous indolence in which the wealthy
are immerfed, and which bring the one to the
grave through want, and the other through exceſs:
reflec
278 ON THE INEQUALITY
reflect but a moment on the heterogeneous
mixture, and pernicious manner of feafoning
fo many kinds, of food; the corrupt ftate in.
which they are frequently ufed; on. the adulte-
ration of medicines, the tricks of thoſe who
vend, and the miſtakes of thoſe who adminiſter.
them, with the poifonous qualities of the veffels
in which they are prepared; think but feriouſly
on the epidemic diſeaſes bred by foul air in
confequence of great numbers of men being
crowded together, or thofe occafioned by our
delicate method of living, by our alternate
tranfitions from the cloieft parts of our houfes
into the open air, by the putting on or throw-
ing off our cloaths with too little precaution,
and by all thoſe conveniences which a bound-
lefs fenfuality hath converted into neceffary
habits, and the neglect of which fometimes
cofts us, our life or health: take note of the
conflagrations and earthquakes, which, devour-
ing or overwhelming whole cities, deftroy.
the wretched inhabitants by thoufands; fum
up in fine, the dangers with which theſe cauſes
are always attended; and you will then fee
how dearly nature makes us pay for the con-
tempt with which we have treated her dictates.
2
I ſhall not here repeat, what I have elſewhere
faid of the calamities of war; but with that
thofe, who have fufficient knowledge for that
purpoſe, were willing or bold enough to oblige
us with a detail of the villainies committed in
armies by the contractors for fubfiftence and
hoſpitals: we fhould fee, plainly that their
monstrous frauds, already too well known, are
the occafion of greater deftruction among the
foldiers than is the fword of the enemy; and
that
OF MANKIND.
279-
that to fuch a degree as to make whole armies
vaniſh, as it were inftantaneouſly from the face
of the earth.
The number of people who periſh annually
at fea, by famine, the fcurvy, pirates and fhip-
wrecks, affords matter for another fhocking
calculation. Befides, we are to place to the
account of the eſtabliſhment of property, and
of confequence to the inftitution of fociety,
the affaffinations, poisonings, robberies on the
highway, and even the puniſhments inflicted
on the wretches guilty of thefe crimes; which,
tho' expedient to prevent greater evils, yet by
making the murder of one man prove the death
of two, doubles the lofs of the human fpecies.
What ſhameful methods are ſometimes prac-
tifed to prevent the birth of men, and put a
cheat on nature; either by fuch brutal and de-
praved appetites as debafe her. maft beautiful
work; appetites unknown to favages or to
mere animals, and which can ſpring only from
the corrupt imagination of mankind in civi
lized countries; or by, fecret abortions, the
effects of debauchery and vitiated notions of
honour; or by multitudes of infants falling
victims to the poverty of their parents, or the
cruel bafhfulness of their mothers; or, in fine,
by the mutilation of unhappy wretches, part
of whofe being, with that of pofterity, is given
up for an idle fong, or, what is ftill worſe, the
brutal jealoufy of other men: a mutilation
which, in the laft cafe, becomes a double out-
rage againſt nature from the treatment of thofe
who fuffer it, and by the ſervices to which
they are deſtined. What, if I fhould under-
take to fhew human-kind attacked in its very
2
Lource
280 ON THE INEQUALITY
fource, and even its moft facred ties; in form-
ing which fortune is confulted before nature
while the diforder of fociety confounding all
virtue and vice, continence becomes a criminal
precaution, and a refufal to give life to a fellow-
creature, an act of humanity? But, without
drawing afide the veil, which ferves to hide
fuch numerous horrours, let us content our-
felves with having pointed out the evil; to
which others ought to apply the remedy.
To all this let us add, the multiplicity of
unhealthy trades, which ferve to abridge hu-
man life, or deftroy the conftitution of the
body fuch as working in the mines, and the
preparing of metals and minerals, particularly
lead, copper, mercury, cobalt, and arfenic
as alſo thoſe other pernicious occupations which
are daily fo fatal to tylers, carpenters, mafons
and miners: let us unite, I fay, all thefe
objects, and then we may fee, in the eſtablifh-
ment and perfection of focieties, the reafons of
that diminution of our fpecies, which has been
To frequently obſerved by the philofophers.
Luxury, impoffible to be prevented among
men, tenacious of their own conveniences,
and of the refpect paid them by others, pre-
fently compleats the evil which fociety had be-
gun; and under the pretence of giving bread
to the poor, whom it fhould never have made
fuch, impoverishes all the reft, and fooner or
later depopulates the ftate. Luxury is a re-
medy much worſe than the diſeaſe it pretends
to cure; or rather it is in itſelf the greateſt of
all evils, to every ftate, whether great or fmall:
for, in order to maintain that number of fer-
wants and vagabonds it creates, it brings op-
preffion
OF MANKIND.
281
preffion and ruin on the citizen and labourer;
juft as thofe fcorching winds, which covering
the trees and plants with devouring infects, de-
prive uſeful animals of their ſubſiſtance; ſpread-
ing famine and death wherever they blow.
From fociety and the luxury it gives birth
to, ariſe the liberal and mechanic arts, com-
merce, letters, and all thoſe ſuperfluities which
make induſtry flouriſh, enrich and ruin nåtions.
The reafon of fuch deftruction is very plain.
It is eaſy to fee, from the very nature of agri-
culture, that it muſt be the leaft lucrative of
all the arts; becauſe its produce being moft
univerfally neceffary, the price of it muſt be
proportioned to the abilities of the very pooreft
of mankind.
From the fame principle may be deduced
this rule, that the arts in general are the more
lucrative in proportion as they are leſs uſeful;
and that, in the end, the moft ufeful becomes
the most neglected. From all which we may
learn to form a judgment of the real advan-
tages of induſtry and the actual effects of its
progrefs.
Such are the palpable caufes of all the
miferies, into which opulence at length plunges
the moſt celebrated nations. In proportion as
arts and induſtry flouriſh, the flighted hufband-
man, burthened with the taxes neceffary to
the ſupport of luxury, and deftined to pafs his
days between labour and hunger, forfakes his
native field, to ſeek that bread in town which
he ought to carry thither. The more our ca-
pital cities ftrike the vulgar eye with admira-
tion, the greater reaſon is there to lament the
fight of large tracts of land that lie unculti-
vated, of the roads crowded with unfortunate
citizens
282 ON THE INEQUALITY
citizens turned beggars or highwaymen, and
doomed to end their wretched lives, either on
a dunghill or at the gallows. It is thus
the ftate grows rich on the one hand, and
grows feeble and is depopulated on the other;
the mightiest monarchies, after having taken
immenfe pains to enrich and depopulate them-
felves, falling at laft a prey to fome poor na-
tion, which hath yielded to the fatal tempta-
tion of invading them, and then, growing
opulent and weak in its turn, is itfelf invaded.
and ruined by fome other.
Let any body condefcend to inform us, what
could produce thofe fwarms of Barbarians,
which overran Europe, Afia and Africa during
fo many ages. Was their prodigious encreafe
owing to the induftry of their arts, the wildom
of their laws, or the excellency of their police?
Let the learned tell us why, inftead of multi-
plying to fo great a degree, thefe fierce and
brutal men, without fenfe or fcience, without
education, without reftraint, did not deftroy
each other hourly in quarrelling for the fpon-
taneous productions of their fields and woods.
Let them tell us how thefe wretches could have
the prefumption to oppofe men, trained up to
military difcipline, and poffeffed of fuch ex-
cellent legal inftitutions: why, in fine, fince
fociety hath been brought to perfection in the
more northern climates, and fo much pains.
have been taken to inftruct their inhabitants in
their focial duties, we fee thofe countries no
longer produce fuch numberless hofts, which
they formerly uſed to ſend forth to the plague
and terrour of other nations. I am apprehen-
five fome body may at laſt anſwer me, by fay-
ings
OF MANKIND.
283
ing, that all theſe fine things, viz. arts, fciences
and laws, were wifely invented by men, as a
falutary plague, to prevent the too great mul-
tiplication of mankind, left the world, which
hath been given us for an habitation, fhould
in time be found too little for its inhabitants.
What, then, is to be done? Muft focieties
be totally abolished? Muft meum and tuum be
annihilated, and muſt we return again to the
foreſts to live among bears? A confequence
this, in the manner of my adverfaries; which
I had as lieve anticipate as let them have the
fcandal to draw. Oye, by whom the voice
of heaven hath not been heard, who think
man is deftined only to live and die in peace;
ye who may be able to refign in the midst of
populous cities, your fatal acquifitions, your
reftlefs fpirits, your corrupt hearts and end-
lefs' defires; do you refume, fince it depends
entirely on yourſelves, your ancient and primi-
tive innocence: retire to the woods, there to
lofe the fight and remembrance of the crimes
of your cotemporaries; nor be apprehenfive of
degrading your fpecies, by renouncing its im-
provements in order to renounce its vices.
With regard to men like me, whofe paffions
have deftroyed their original fimplicity, who
can no longer fubfift on plants or acorns, or
live without laws and magistrates; thoſe who
were honoured in their first parents with fu-
pernatural. inftructions; who difcover, in the
defign of giving at firft a morality to human
actions which they muft otherwife have been
fo long in acquiring, the reafon of a precept
in its felf indifferent and inexplicable-by every
other fyftem; thofe, in fine, who are perfuaded
that
284 ON THE INEQUALITY
that the divine being hath called all mankind
to be partakers of the happiness and perfection
of celeftial intelligences, all theſe will endea-
vour to merit the eternal prize they are to ex-
pect from the practice of thofe virtues, to
which they oblige themſelves in learning to
diftinguish them. They will refpect the facred
bonds of their reſpective communities; will
love their fellow-citizens, and ferve them with
all their might: they will pay a religious ob-
fervance to the laws, and all thoſe who make
or adminiſter them; they will particularly do
honour to thoſe wife and good princes, who
diſcover means to prevent, cure or even palliate
the crowd of evils and abufes, with which we
are conftantly threatened; they will animate
the zeal of their deferving chiefs, by fhewing
them, without flattery or fear, the importance
of their office and the feverity of their duty.
But they will not therefore have leſs contempt
for a conftitution, which cannot fupport itſelf
without the aid of fo many refpectable cha-
racters, who are much oftener wifhed for than
obtained; and from which, notwithſtanding
all their pains and folicitude, there always arife
more real calamities than even apparent ad-
vantages.
Page 181.
(10.) Among the different fpecies of men
we are acquainted with, either from the infor-
mation of hiſtory, or the relations of travel-
lers; fome are black, others white, and others
red; fome wear long hair, others have on their
heads only wool; fome again are in a manner
covered all over with hair, while others have
not
OF MANKIND.
285
not ſo much as a beard. There have been, and
doubtleſs ſtill are whole nations of people of
a gigantic fize; as to the ftory of the pigmies
I' fhall not infift upon it, as it may be an ex-
ággeration; but it is known of a certainty that
the Laplanders, and eſpecially the inhabitants
of Greenland, are greatly below the middle
ftature: it is even prétended that there are na-
tions with tails like quadrupeds; and, without
pinning our faith on Herodotus and Ctefias, we
may at leaſt draw this probable conclufion from
their relations, that if good obfervations could
have been made in thoſe early times, when the
cuſtoms and manners of mankind differed more
than they do at prefent, ftill greater diverfities
would have appeared in the figure and haùit
of their bodies. Theſe facts, of which incon-
teſtible proof may be given, can only aſtoniſh
thoſe who never confider any objects but fuch
as immediately furround them, and are ſtrangers
to the powerful influence of different modes of
life, climate, air, food, and above all the fur-
prizing effects of the fame caufes, when acting
continually on a fucceffion of generations.
In our day, when commerce, navigation and
conquefts have more generally united the dif
ferent inhabitants of the earth, and their
cuſtoms daily acquire a greater reſemblance to
each other, in confequence of a more frequent
intercourſe, there has been a great diminution
of national differences. It is plain, for in-
ftance, that the modern French are very un-
like thofe light-haired, fair-ſkinned bodies de-
fcribed by the Latin hiftorians, though it might
be imagined, that time, aided by the mixture
of Franks and Normans equally fair, fhould
have
*
4
286 ON THE INEQUALITY
have reſtored what the climate might have loft,
by the frequent vifitation of the Romans, of
its influence over the natural conftitution and
complexion of the inhabitants. Thefe obfer-
vations on the diverfities, which a multitude
of cauſes may produce, and in effect have pro-
duced, in the human fpecies, have led me to
doubt whether feveral animals, which travel-
lers for want of properly examining them have
taken for beafts, on account of fome difference
in their external form, or merely becauſe they
wanted fpeech, were not, after all, real men in a
favage ftate; whofe race being early diſperſed in
the woods, never had any developement of their
faculties, but ftill remained in their primitive
ftate of nature. To give an example of what
I am faying. The tranflator of the History of
Voyages, &c. tells us that there are found in the
kingdom of Congo, a great number of thoſe
large animals called, in the East Indies,
Orang-Outang; forming a kind of middle or-
der of beings between men and baboons. Bat-
tel relates, that in the forefts of Mayomba in
the kingdom of Loango, there are two forts of
monſters, the biggeft of which are called.
Pongos and the other Enjokos. The former,
fays he, are exactly like men, but much larger
and taller. Their face is human, but hath very
hollow eyes.
Their hands, cheeks and ears
are quite bare of hair to their eye-brows, which
are very long. The other parts of their bodies
are pretty hairy, and the hair is of a brown
colour. In fine, the only thing, by which
they can be diftinguiſhed from the human
fpecies, is the form of their legs, which have
no calves. They walk erect, holding the hair
of
OF MANKIND.
287
of their neck in their hands.
They refide in
the woods, where they fleep in the trees, ma-
king a kind of roof over them to fkreen them
from the rain. They never meddle with ani-
mal fleſh, but live on nuts and other wild
fruits. The negroes, who, in travelling through
forefts, ufually light fires in the night time,
remark that, as foon as they ſet off in the morn-
ing, the Pongos gather about the fire and ſtay
there till it goes out; for, though theſe animals
are very dexterous on fome occafions, they
have not wit enough to keep the fire in, by
ſupplying it with freſh fuel.
"They march femetimes in companies, and
kill the negroes who traverſe the forefts. They
even attack the elephants that come to feed
near their haunts, and belabour them fo heartily
with fifts and fticks, that they make them roar
and put them to flight. The Pongos when
full grown are never taken alive; for they are
then fo robuft, that ten ordinary men would
not be able to manage one of them. The
negroes, however, fometimes take the young
ones after killing their mother; to whofe body
they cling furprizingly faft. When one of
theſe animals dies, the others cover the body
with an heap of leaves or branches of trees.
Purchafs adds, that in the converfation he had
with Battel, he was told by him, that a Pongo
carried off from him a little negroe, who ſtay-
ed a whole month among theſe creatures: for
it ſeems they do no harm to their captives,
provided they do not look at them, as the little
negroe obferved. Battel has not defcribed the
fecond kind of monfter.
❝ Dapper
288 ON THE INEQUALITY
ウ
​"Dapper confirms that the kingdom of
Congo is full of thofe animals which in India
are called Orang-Outang, or the inhabitants
of the woods, and which the Africans call
Quojas Morros. This creature, fays he, bears
fo near a reſemblance to man, that fome tra-
vellers have been fooliſh enough to think it
might proceed from a woman and a monkey;
a chimerical notion exploded even among the
negroes. One of theſe animals was formerly
brought over from Congo to Holland, and
preſented to Frederick Henry, then Prince of
Orange. It was about as tall as a child three
years old, moderately corpulent, but ſquare-
built and well-proportioned; very active and
lively; its legs ſtrong and thick; the fore-part
of the body without hair, and all the back-part
covered with hair of a black colour. At firſt
fight, its face refembled that of a man, but its
noſe was flat and fnubbed; its ears were like
thofe of the human fpecies: its breafts, for it
was a female, were full, its navel indented,
its fhoulders well hung, its hands divided into
fingers and thumbs; and the calves of its legs
and its heels plump and flefhy. She often
walked erect, and could raife and carry bur-
thens not over heavy. When ſhe drank,
fhe took hold of the lid of the veffel with
one hand, and of the bottom with the
other; wiping her mouth after drinking very
decently. She lay down, with her head on a
cufhion, to fleep; covering herſelf up with fo
much dexterity, that one would think it was
an human creature in bed. The negroes tell
very ſtrange ſtories of this animal'; affuring us
سمی
*
મક
that
OF MANKIND.
289
that the male will not only raviſh women and
girls, but that he hath the courage to attack
even men though they are armed: in a word,
there is a great appearance that this is the fatyr
of the ancients. Perhaps, Merolla fpeaks of
theſe very animals, when he fays that the ne-
groes fometimes catch wild men and women,
when they go hunting."
In the third volume of the fame hiftory of
voyages, mention is made alfo of this fpecies
of anthropoform animals, under the name of
Beggos and Mandrills. But to confine ourſelves
to the foregoing relations; there is, in the
defeription of thefe pretended monfters, a
ftriking conformity in fome particulars with
the human fpecies, and ftill more minute dif-
ferences than are fometimes to be found be-
tween individuals among mankind. It does
not appear from theſe paffages, what reaſors
the authors might have for refufing the appel-
lation of wild men to the animals in queſtion. «
But we may gueſs it was on account of their
ſtupidity and want of fpeech; weak arguments
with thoſe who know that fpeech itſelf is not
natural to man whatever its organs may be,
and who are aware that the capacity of im-
provement in the human fpecies may have
raiſed civilized man, infinitely above his ori-
ginal condition. The few words beſtowed on
the above defcriptions is fufficient alfo to fhew
with what prejudice they have been obferved,
and how fuperficially they have been examined.
For instance, they are reprefented as monſters,
and at the ſame time, it is admitted they propa-
gate their fpecies. Battel fays, in one place, that
"the Pongos kill the negroes they meet in the
VOL. I. MISC.
woods.'
Ο
290
ON THE INEQUALITY
{
woods." Purchaſs fays, in another, that
ત they do them no harm provided the negroes
do not look at them too intently." "The
Pongos, fays he, gather about the fires lighted by
the negroes, when the latter leave it; and leave
it themſelves in their turn when it goes out."
This is the fact; obferve the comment" for,
with all their dexterity, they have not wit
enough to keep the fire in by ſupplying it with
fuel."
By what means did Battel, or his com-
piler Purchaſs, know that the Pongos retired
rather out of ſtupidity than out of inclination?
In fuch a climate as that of Loango, animals.
can ſtand in little need of fire, and, if the ne-
groes make fires, it is not fo much with a view.
to warm themſelves, as to frighten and keep
at a diſtance the wild beafts with which the
country abounds. It were but natural in the
Pongos, therefore, after having amufed them-
felves for fome time with the blaze, or warmed
themſelves fufficiently, to grow tired of ftand-
ing fill in the fame place, and to return to
their bufinefs of procuring fuftenance; which
confifting of fruits would require a larger time,
as before obferved, than the flesh of animals.
It is befides well known that moft animals,
and even man himſelf, are naturally indolent;
and give themſelves no trouble about any
thing they can make fhift without. It feems,
on the whole, very ftrange that the Pongos,
whofe ftrength and addreſs are fo much boaſted,
who know how to bury their dead, and to
make themſelves awnings with leaves and
branches, fhould not know how to keep up
a wood fire by pushing the half-burnt fticks
into it. I myſelf remember to have ſeen a
monkey
OF MANKIND.
291
monkey do the fame thing which Battel and
Purchaſs will not admit that a Pongo has fenſe
enough to do. It is certain that, not having
then a turn for fuch kind of obfervation, I
committed the very fault, for which I am now
cenfuring the travellers: for I neglected to ex-
amine whether the monkey's defign was to keep
up the fire, or whether he acted only in mere
imitation of thoſe he had feen do the fame
thing. Be this, however, as it may, it is plain
the monkey does not belong to the human
fpecies; not only becauſe he wants the faculty
of fpeech; but principally becauſe his fpecies
is incapable of improvement, a capacity for
which is the fpecific characteriſtick of the hu-
man fpecies. Now it does not appear that the
fame experiments have been made on the Pon-
gos and the Orang-Outang, with care enough
to furniſh the fame conclufion. There is indeed
a method, by which the moft illiterate obfervers
might come at the certain knowledge, whe-
ther the Orang-Outang or fuch other animals.
are of the human fpecies: but a fingle gene-
ration would not be fufficient for fuch an ex-
periment. It muſt be looked upon as imprac-
ticable alfo, becauſe it is requifite that what is
now only a fuppofition fhould be proved a fact,
before the experiment neceffary to aſcertain the
reality of it could be innocently made.
ནཾ
Hafty inferences, and fuch as are not the
effects of an enlightened underſtanding, are
apt to be carried too far. Our modern travel-
lers make beafts, under the names of Pongos,
Mandrils, and Orang-Outang, of the very be-
ings which the ancients exalted into deities
under the title of fatyrs, fauns and fylvans.
fatyrs
0 2
More
292 ON THE INEQUALITY
*
More exact inveſtigations will poffibly, fhew
them to have been men. It feems to me, in
the mean time, to be full as reaſonable to con
fide in the account, given us by Merolla, sa
learned ecclefiaftick, an ocular witness and
who with great candour was alſo a man of
genius, as in that of Battel a mere merchant,
or thoſe of Dapper, Purchafs and others who
were mere compilers.
-
}
What would fuch obfervers have faid of the
child difcovered in 1699, of which I have be-
fore ſpoken? he fhewed not the leaft marks of
reafon, walked upon his hands and feet, had
no articulate ſpeech, but uttered founds totally
unlike the human voice. He was for a con-
fiderable time (fays the naturalift, from whom
I take this account) incapable of fpeaking any
more than a very few words, and thoſe in a
barbarous and imperfect manner. As foon as
he could ſpeak intelligibly, he was aſked about
his primitive fituation; but of this he remem-
bered no more than we do of what happened
to us in the cradle. Had this child had the
misfortune to have fallen into the hands of our
travellers, they would have regarded only his
filence and ftupidity; and thence have either
turned him loofe again into the woods, or have
fhut him up in fome menagery; publiſhing a
very learned account of him, as of a very
curious beaſt not very much unlike a man.
J
The inhabitants of Europe have, for three
or four centuries paft, been employed in run-
ning over the other parts of the world, and are
conftantly publiſhing new collections of voy-
ages; I am nevertheleſs of opinion that the
people of Europe are the only men upon earth
we
OF MANKIND.
293
we are as yet well acquainted with. Nay, to
judge from the ridiculous prepoffeffions, which
prevail to this day among men of letters, very
few of them mean any thing more, by the
pompous title of the ftudy of mankind, than
the ſtudy of their own countrymen. Particu-
lar perfons may go and come as they will,
modern philofophy appears to be no traveller,
and thus that of one nation is very fuitable to
another. The cauſe of this is manifeft at leaſt
with regard to countries far diftant. There
are but four kinds of people who make long
voyages; thefe are fea-men, merchants, foldiers
and miffionaries. Now it is hardly to be ex-
pected that the three firft fhould be very good
obfervers; and with refpect to the laft, even
were they not, like the reft, fubject to the preju-
dices of their occupation, we may conceive they
are too much taken up by the immediate dutics
of their fublime vocation, to defcend to engage
in reſearches which may feem calculated merely
to gratify curiofity; and which would interfere
with the more important labours to which they
are devoted. Befides, in order to preach the
goſpel with fuccefs, zeal alone is fufficient,
the grace of God does all the reft; but to ftudy
mankind with fuccefs, talents are requifite,
which God hath not engaged to bestow on any
man, and which do not always fall to the ſhare
even of the faints. We can hardly open a book
of voyages without meeting with fome defcrip-
tion of characters and manners; but it muſt
feem furprizing that thefe travellers, who de-
fcribe fuch a multiplicity of things, fay hardly
any thing that every reader is not previously
acquainted with; and that they had not fenfe
enough
•
03
294 ON THE INEQUALITY
enough to obferve more at the other end of the
world than they might have done without go-
ing the length of a street; while the really
diftinguishing features of nations, which muſt
ftrike every judicious eye, have almoſt always
efcaped them. Hence comes that notable
adage, ſo hackneyed by the philofophers, that
men of all countries are the fame: and thus
having every-where the fame paffions and the
fame vices, it is uſeleſs to endeavour to cha-
racterize different nations: a method of rea-
foning this, little better than if we were to
conclude, it is impoffible to diſtinguiſh be-
tween Peter and James, becauſe they have each
a mouth, a nofe, and a pair of eyes.
Will thofe happy times never return, in
which the populace did not preſume to philo-
fophize; but when a Plato, a Thales and a
Pythagoras, excited by the defire of knowledge,
undertook the longeſt voyages merely for the
fake of information, and vifited the remoteſt
parts of the earth, to throw off the yoke of
national prejudice, to learn to diftinguiſh men
by the actual conformity and difference be-
tween them, and gain that general infight in-
to nature, which belongs not to any one age
or country exclufive of others; but, being co-
exiſtent with every time and place, forms as it
were the common fcience of the wife.
We admire the magnificence of thoſe curi-
ous perfons, who have themfelves travelled at
a great expence, or have fent others to the east,
accompanied by men of letters and painters to
take drawings of ruins, and to decypher or
copy infcriptions; but I can hardly conceive.
how it is, that in an age wherein uſeful and
polite
OF MANKIND.
295
polite literature are ſo much affected, there are
not two men properly connected and rich, the
one in money and the other in genius, both
fond of glory and aſpiring after immortality;
one of which ſhould be willing to facrifice
twenty thousand crowns of his fortune, and
the other ten years of his life, to make a juftly
celebrated voyage round the world: not to
confine their obfervations in fuch voyage to
plants and minerals, but for once to study men
and manners, and, after fo many ages fpent in
meaſuring and furveying the houſe, to make
themfelves really acquainted with thoſe who
live in it.
The academicians who visited the northern
parts of Europe and the fouthern parts of
America, had more in their view to do it as
geometricians than as philofophers.
As they
were both one and the other, however, we
cannot look upon thofe countries, which have
been ſeen and deſcribed by a Condamine and
a Maupertuis, as altogether unknown. Char-
din, who travelled like Plato, has left nothing
to be faid on the fubject of Perfia; China feems
to have been well obferved by the Jefuits.
Kempfer gives a tolerable account of the little
he faw in Japan. But except what we learn
from theſe relations, we know nothing of the
inhabitants of the Eaft Indies: for tho' theſe
countries are frequently visited, it is by people
much more intent on filling their pockets with
money than their heads with uſeful knowledge:
The whole continent of Africa and its numer-
ous inhabitants, equally fingular with regard
both to character and colour, ftill remain un-
explored;
04
296 ON THE INEQUALITY
explored; the earth is indeed covered with na-
tions of which we know nothing but the
names; and yet we fet up truly for judges
Jöf
humankind.
Let us fuppofe that a Montefquiét, á Buffon,
a Diderot, a Duclos, a D'Alembert, a Condillac,
or men of the like ftamp, engaged in a voyage
for the information of their countrymen, ob-
ferving and defcribing in the manner they are
capable of doing, the feveral countries of
Turky, Egypt, Barbary, the empire of Mo
rocco, Guinea, Caffraria, the inner parts and
eaftern fhores of Africa, Malabar, the Mo-
gul's country, the banks of the Ganges, the
kingdoms of Siam, Pegu and Iva, China,
Tartary, and above all Japan; then in the other
hemifphere Mexico, Peru, Chili, Terra Ma-
gellanica, not omitting the real or imaginary
Patagonians, Túrcumania, and if poffible Pa-
raguay, Brazil, the Caribbee Islands, Florida,
and all the favage countries; the most im
portant and difficult part of the whole voyage:
let us fuppofe then that thefe new Hercules
fhould fit down, at their return from thoſe
famous expeditions, to compofe at leiſure, a
phyſical, moral and political hiſtory of all they
had feen. A new world would undoubtedly ri e
up before our eyes, and we might thence learn
to form fome tolerable judgment of our own.
I fay that when fuch obfervers fhould affirm
of one animal that it was a man, and of an-
other that it was a brute, we ought to believe
them; but it would be the higheſt inftance of
fimplicity, to put the fame confidence, with
regard to thefe matters, in fuch illiterate tra
vellers,
OF MANKIND.
297
vellers, as would, fometimes fuggeft to us the
very Tame doubt of themfelves, as they take
upon them to determine about other animals.
Page 181.
3
>
(11.) This feems to be very evident, and I
cannot conceive whence our philofophers de-
duce all the paffions they attribute to natural
man. If we except the mere phyfical necef-
faries, which nature immediately requires, all
our wants are the effects of habit, which till,
we acquired we had no wants; or of our de-,
fires; but we never defire any thing we are
not in circumftances to know, It follows
hence that,, as favage man defires nothing but.
what he knows, and knows nothing but what
he poffeffes or can readily acquire, nothing can
be more calm and difpaffionate than his foul,,
nor fo limited as his underſtanding.
$
1
(12.) In Mr. Locke's treatiſe
on Civil
Government, I find one objection that, ap-
pears too fpecious to be here paffed over. It is.
as follows: " §..79.
૬૮.
For the end of con-
junction, between male and female, being not
barely procreation, but the continuation of the
fpecies; this conjunction betwixt male and
female ought to laft, even after procreation,,
fo long as is neceffary to the nouriſhment and
ſupport of the young ones, who are to be fuf-
tained by thoſe that got them, till they are able.
to ſhift and provide for themſelves. This rule,
which the infinite wife Maker hath fet to the
works of his hands, we find the inferior crea-
tures ſteadily obey. In thoſe viviparous ani-
mals which feed on grafs, the conjunction between
male and female lafts no longer than the very act
O 5.
of:
298 ON THE INEQUALITY
of copulation; becauſe the teat of the dam
being fufficient to nourish the young, till it be
able to feed on grafs, the male only begets, but
concerns not himſelf for the female or young,
to whoſe ſuſtenance he can contribute nothing.
But in beaſts of prey the conjunction laſts longer:
becauſe the dam not being able well to fubfift
herſelf, and nouriſh her numerous off-fpring
by her own prey alone, a more laborious, as
well as more dangerous way of living, than by
feeding on grafs, the affiftance of the male is
neceffary to the maintenance of their common
family, which cannot fubfift till they are able
to prey for themfelves, but by the joint care of
male and female. The fame is to be obferved
in all birds, (except ſome domeſtic ones, where
plenty of food excufes the cock from feeding,
and taking care of the young brood) whoſe
young needing food in the neft, the cock and
hen continue mates, till the young are able to
uſe their wing, and provide for themſelves.
'
§. 80. And herein I think lies the chief,
if not the only reaſon, why the male and female
in mankind are tied to a longer conjunction than
other creatures, viz. becauſe the female is ca-
pable of conceiving, and de facto is commonly
with child again, and brings forth too a new
birth, long before the former is out of a de-
pendency for fupport on his parents help, and
able to fhift for himfelf, and has all the affiftance
is due to him from his parents: whereby the:
father, who is bound to take care for thoſe he
hath begot, is under an obligation to continue
in conjugal fociety with the fame woman longer
than other creatures, whofe young being able
to fubfift of themfelves, before the time of pro- .
creation
OF MANKIND.
299
creation returns again, the conjugal bond dif-
folves of itſelf, and they are at liberty, till
Hymen at his ufual' anniverſary ſeaſon fummons
them again to chufe new mates. Wherein one
cannot but admire the wiſdom of the great
Creator, who having given to man forefight,
and an ability to lay up for the future, as well
as to fupply the preſent neceffity, hath made it
neceffary, that fociety of man and wife ſhould be
more lafting, than of male and female amongſt
other creatures; that fo their induftry might
be encouraged, and their intereft better united,
to make proviſion and lay up goods for their
common iffue, which uncertain mixture, or
eafy and frequent folutions of conjugal fociety
would mightily diſturb."
The famé love of truth, which induced me
faithfully to exhibit this objection, leads me
alfo to accompany it with a few remarks, if
not to refute, at leaſt to contribute fomething
to its illuftration.
1. I fhall obferve, in the firſt place, that
moral arguments are of no great validity in
phyfical difputes, and that they ferve rather to
account for facts which exift than to aſcertain
the real exiſtence of facts themfelves. Now
fuch is the fpecies of argument made ufe of by
Mr. Locke in the paffage above-quoted; for
tho' it may be to the intereft of mankind that
the union between the male and female fhould
be permanent, it does by no means follow that
ſuch an union was eſtabliſhed by nature; for
otherwiſe it must be admitted that nature in-
ftituted civil fociety, arts, commerce, and every
thing elſe pretended to be ufeful to mankind.
2. I know
06
30.0
ON THE INEQUALITY
2. I know not where Mr. Locke difcorere
that among animals of prey, the connection
between the male and female lafts longer than
among thoſe who ſubſiſt on grafs, and that th
male aflifts the female in nurfing their young
we don't perceive that the dog, the cat, the
bear, or the wolf fhew more regard to thei
females than the horse, the ram, the bull, the
ftag, or any other quadrupeds fhew to theirs
It appears, on the contrary, that, if the affift
ance of the male were neceffary to the female
for the prefervation of their young, it would
be particularly fo among fuch animals as fub
fift altogether on grafs; becauſe the female
takes up more time to feed in this way, and is
obliged all the while to neglect her young;
whereas a fhe-bear or wolf deyours her prey in
a very short time, and has therefore more to
beſtow on the care of her litter, without fuffer-
ing any thing from hunger. This remark is
confirmed by the relative number of teats and
of young ones, that diftinguiſhes the carnivo-
rous from the frugivorous kinds, as hath been
already obferved in a preceding note. If this
obfervation alfo be juft and general, a woman's
having but two breafts, and feldom bearing
more than one child at a time, affords another,
and a very strong reafon, for doubting the hu-
man fpecies to be naturally carnivorous: fa
that, in order to draw Mr. Locke's conclufion,
the terms of his argument fhould be inverted.
There feems to be as little validity in the fame
diſtinction when applied to birds: for who can
conceive the connection between male and fe-
male is more lafting among vultures and ravens
than among doves?
I
There
1
30%.
OF MANKIND.
~There are two kinds of domeftic birds, viz,
the duck and the pigeon, which afford us ex-
amples directly oppofite to this writer's fyftem.
The pigeon, who lives entirely upon corn, is
ever conſtant to his female, and both feed their
young ones in common. The drake, on the
other hand, whofe voraciouſneſs is notorious,
takes ho care either of the young or their mo-
ther-duck. Among cocks and hens, who are
not much lefs ravenous, the former are never
known to trouble themfelves about eggs or
chickens and, if among fome other fpecies
the male ſhares in the care of feeding the young,.
it is becaufe fuch birds being unable to fly as
foon as hatched, cannot fubfift fo well without
the affiftance of the male, as quadrupeds, who,
for fome time at leaſt, are fuckled by the female,
and require nothing more.
&
3dly. There is much uncertainty in the prin-
cipals fact, which ferves as the bafis of Mr.
Locke's argument: for, in order to know whe-
ther, as he pretends, woman in a ſtate of na-
ture generally becomes pregnant, and brings
forth a new child, long before the former is
capable of providing for itfelf, fome experi
ments are neceffary to be made, which Mr..
Locke certainly had not made, and which no-
body indeed is in a fituation to make. The
conſtant cohabitation of huſband and wife in a
ftate of fociety, affords fuch an occafion for
the latter to expofe herſelf to a new pregnancy,.
that it is hardly likely accidental encounters or
fudden gufts of paffion fhould produce fuch'
effects fo frequently in a ſtate of nature, as in
that of conjugal ſociety. This delay, however,
would very probably contribute to render the
>
children
302 ON THE INEQUALITY
children more robuft; and would be at the
fame time compenſated for, by extending the
ability of conception in women to a more ad-
vanced age, as they would the lefs abuſe it in
their youth. As to children, there are many
reaſons for concluding that their organs and
abilities unfold themſelves later among us than
they did in the primitive ftate of man. The
original imbecility, which they derive from the
weak conftitution of their parents, the care
taken to bind up, ſtrain and cramp all their
limbs, the tenderneſs with which they are
treated, and perhaps their uſe of the milk of a.
woman that is not their mother; every thing
in ſhort ſerves with us to oppoſe and check the
firft operations of nature. The application
they are obliged to beftow on various objects,
to which we conftantly direct their attention,
while their corporeal faculties remain unexer-
cifed, may contribute alſo much to retard their
growth. So that if, inftead of overcharging
and perplexing their minds, we ſhould permit
them to exerciſe their bodies in that continual
motion, which nature feems to require, it is
probable they would be much fooner capable of
walking about and providing for themſelves.
4thly. In fine, the moſt that Mr. Locke
proves, is, that favage man might have a mo-
tive to live with a woman, when he had
brought him a child; but he by no means proves
that he had any inducement to live with her,
before her delivery, during her nine months
pregnancy: and if the pregnant woman fhould
come to be indifferent to the man by whom the
is pregnant during thofe nine months, if the
fhould even be entirely forgot by him, as is not
improbable
OF MANKIND.
303
暑
​•
improbable to fuppofe, why ſhould he affift her
after her delivery? Why fhould he aid her to
rear a child, which he does not know to be
his, and whoſe birth he neither forefaw nor
intended? It is plain that Mr. Locke has fup-
poſed the thing itſelf that was in queftion; for
we do not enquire why a man fhould continue
to live with a woman after her delivery, but
why he ſhould continue attached to her after
conception. When the appetite is once fa-
tisfied, the man ftands no longer in need of any
particular woman, nor the woman of any par-
ticular man.
The latter troubles himſelf no
more about what has happened, and perhaps
hath not the leaft notion of what muſt enſue.
One of them goes one way, and the other an-
other, in fo much, that there is little room to
think they ſhould remember, at the end of nine
months, that they had ever ſeen each other be-
fore. For this kind of memory, by means of
which one individual gives to another the pre-
ference for the act of generation, requires, as
I have proved in the text, a greater degree of
improvement or corruption of the human un-
derſtanding, than man can be fuppoſed to have
attained in the ſtate of animality now in queftion.
Any other woman, therefore, may ferve to gra-
tify the new defires of the man, as well as fhe
whom he hath before known; and in like
manner, any other man may gratify thoſe of
the woman, fuppofing her to be fubject during
her pregnancy to the fame appetite; a cir-
cumftance however that may be reaſonably
questioned. And if the woman in a ftate of
nature, does not feel the paffion of love after
conception, there is ftill a greater obftacle to
her
304 ON THE INEQUALITY:
her affociating with man, as the has no longer
any occafion for the man by whom.fhe became
pregnant, or indeed any other. There is there-
fore no motive on the fide of the man, for his
coveting the fame woman, nor on the woman's
for coveting the fame man. Mr. Locke's ar
gument therefore is defective, nor hath the
logick of this philofopher. fecured him from the
miftakes which Hobbes and others have com-
mitted.
J
Their buſineſs was to explain a fact in the
ſtate of nature; that is in a ſtate in which every
man lived by himſelf without any connection
with other men; a ſtate in which no one had
any inducement to affociate with another, nor,
what is worſe, mankind in general any inclina-~
tion to herd together. It never fuggefted to
them that they fhould take a retrospect beyond
the commencement of fociety; fince which ins
dividuals had always a motive for affociating
with this or that particular man or woman.
Page 192.
(13.) I fhall beware of launching forth into
thoſe philofophicalreflections, which may be made
on the advantages and difadvantages of the
inftitution of languages. It is not for fuch.
men as me, to think of being fuffered to at-
tack vulgar errours, the herd of men of letters
are too fond of their prejudices to-bear my
pretended paradoxes with any kind of patience.
I fhall let thofe fpeak, therefore, in whom it
hath not been deemed criminal to dare fome-
times to take part with common fenſe againſt
the opinion of the multitude.
"Nec quid-
quam felicitati humani generis decederet, fi,
pulfa
OF MANKIND.
305.
pulfâ tot linguarum pefte et confufione, unam
artem callerent mortales, et fignis, motibus,
geftibufque licitum foret quidvis explicare.
Nunc vero ita comparatum eft, ut animalium
quæ vulgò bruta creduntur, melior longè quàm
noftra hac in parte videatur conditio, ut pote
quæ promptius et forfan felicius, fenfus et
cogitationes fuas fine interprete fignificent,.
quam ulli queant mortales, præfertim fi
peregrine utantur fermone." If. Voffius de
poemat. Cant. et Viribus Rythmi. p. 66.
*
Page 194.
་
(14.) Plato, in ſhewing how far the ideas
of difcrete quantity and its relations are re-
quifite in the most infignificant arts, ridicules
thoſe authors of his age, and with great rea-
fon, who pretended that Palamedes invented
numbers at the fiège of Troy; as if it were pof-
fible, fay's he, that Agamemnon fhould not know
till then how many fingers or toes he had. In
effect, every one muft fee how impoffible it was
that fociety and the arts fhould have attained
that degree of perfection at which they cer-
tainly were arrived, at the time of that cele-
brated fiege, unleſs mankind had been acquaint-
ed with the uſe of numbers and calculation.
But the neceffity of underſtanding numbers,
previous to the acquifition of other fciences,
does not affift us to account for the invention
of them. When the names of numbers are
once known, it is eafy to explain the meaning
of them, and to excite the ideas their names
prefent; but in order to invent them, it was
neceffary previous to the conception of theſe
ideas, that the mind of man fhould have been
in,
·306 ON THE INEQUALITY
in a manner familiarized with philofophical
ſpeculations, and ſhould have exerciſed itſelf
in confidering beings purely according to their
effence, and independently of its perceptions:
an abſtract mode of thinking very difficult and
metaphyſical, not to ſay in ſome meaſure unna-
tural; without which notwithstanding, theſe
ideas could never have been communicated from.
one mind to another, nor numbers ever have
become univerfal.
A favage might ſeparately confider his right
leg and his left leg, or look upon them toge-
ther under the indivifible idea of a pair, with-
out ever thinking he had two; for the repre-
fentative idea which deſcribes an object to us
is one thing, and the numerical idea which
determines it another. He would be ftill lefs
able to count as far as five; and tho', on the
application of his hands to each other, he might
remark that the fingers exactly anfwered, yet
he might be very far from thinking on their
numerical quality. He knew as little about
the number of his fingers as of his hairs; and
if, after giving him to underſtand what num-
bers are, any one had told him that he had no
more fingers than toes, he would in all pro-
bability have been greatly furprized to find
on comparing them, that they were exactly
equal in number.
:
"
Page 199.
Self-
(15.) We fhould not confound ſelfiſhneſs
with felf-love; as they are two very diſtinct
paffions both in their nature and effects.
love is a natural fentiment, which inclines every
animal to regard its own prefervation; and
which,
OF MANKIND.
*307
which, when directed by reaſon and qualified
by compaffion, is productive of humanity and
virtue. Selfiſhneſs is a relative and factitious
fentiment, formed in the midſt of ſociety, and
inclining individuals to fet a greater value on
themſelves than upon other men; a fentiment
which excites men to all the miſchief they do
to each other, and is the true fource of modern
honour.
→
This being well understood, I proceed to
affirm that ſelfiſhneſs does not exiſt in a primi-
tive ſtate of nature; for every man in particu-
lar confidering himſelf as the only perfon by
whom he is obferved, as the only being in the
univerſe intereſted in him, as the only judge
of his own merit, it is not poffible that he
ſhould entertain a ſentiment, arifing from com-
pariſons he has it not in his power to make.
A man of this kind muft, for the fame reaſon,
be a ftranger to malice and hatred, paffions,
which the notion of our having fuffered fome
infult, can only excite. As it is contempt alſo,
or an intent to injure, and not the injury it-
ſelf, that conftitutes an affront, thofe men, who
know not how to fet a value on themſelves, or
enter into a compariſon with each other, may
do one another a great deal of miſchief, as of-
ten as they can hope any advantage from it,
without ever affronting each other. In a word,
cvery man in a ſtate of nature, feldom looking
upon his fellows in any other light than he
would animals of a different fpecies, may rob
and plunder another man if weaker than him-
felf, or be plundered in his turn by another
that is stronger, without confidering ſuch acts
of violence in any other light than as natural
events, without the leaft ſenſe of refentment.
or
308 ON THE INEQUALITY
or malice, and without any other paffion than
grief or joy at his good or ill fuccefs.
ད
Page 224.
There
(16.) It is a thing very remarkable, that,
altho' the Europeans have been endeavouring,
for fo many years paft, to bring over the fa-
vages of different parts of the world to our
manner of living, we have not been able as
yet to prevail on one of them; not even with
the affiftance of the motives of chriftianity,
for it is certain that though our miffionaries
have converted favages into Chriftians, they
never have been able to civilize them.
is no poffibility of furmounting their invincible
reluctance to our cuſtoms and manners. But
if theſe poor people are really fo unhappy as
fome repreſent them, by what unaccountable
depravity is it that they ſo obftinately refuſe to
fubmit to our government, or to live happy
among us? Whereas we read frequently of
Frenchmen and other Europeans, who have
voluntarily taken refuge and ſpent the remain-
der of their lives among favages, without be-
ing able to quit them. Nay, we have inftancès
of very fenfible miffionaries, that have with
tears regretted the calm and innocent days they
had ſpent among the fimple mortals we fo
much defpife. If it be objected that they have
not understanding enough to judge properly of
the difference of conditions, I reply that hap-
pineſs is not fo properly eftimated by the un-
derſtanding as by the heart. Befides, this ob-
jection may be retorted with greater force on
ourfelves; for our notions are far more remote
from the difpofition of mind neceffary for us to
taffe
OF MANKIND.
309
✔
tafte the relifh, which the favages find in their
way
of life, than their notions are from thoſe
by which they may enter into the reliſh we find
in ours.
In fact, it is eafy for them to fee,
after a very few obfervations, that all our en-
deavours are employed on two objects; viz. on
the conveniences of life, and the refpect paid:
us, by others, But, how fhall we be able to
conceive that kind of pleaſure, which a ſavage
finds in ſpending his time in folitude, in the
woods, in fishing, or in blowing into a wretched
flute, without being able to make it found a
note, or taking any trouble to learn better?...
-
There have been favages frequently brought
to Paris, London, and other places; and no.
pains fpared to inftill into them fublime ideas of
our luxury, our wealth, and uſeful and curious -
arts; they were never feen, however, to ex-
prefs any thing more than a ftupid admiration
of thofe things without the leaft appearance of
coveting them. I remember, among other cir
cumftances, related of the chief of fome Ame-
rican Indians who was about thirty years ago
in London, a number of things were fhewn
him, in order to ſee what prefent might be ac-
ceptable to him, but without fixing upon any
thing he happened to like. Our arms feemed
clumfy and inconvenient; our fhoes hurt his
feet; our cloaths incumbered his limbs; he
would in fhort accept of nothing; at length,
however, he was obſerved to fix his eye on a
blanket, which he wrapped with a feeming.
pleaſure over his fhoulders. On this, the peo-
ple about him emarked that he muſt allow
this to be an ufeful piece of furniture.
}
Yes,
310
ON THE INEQUALITY
Yes, replied the Indian, it ſeems to me al-
moſt as good as the ſkin of a beaft. Not that
he would have allowed even this, had he com-
pared the different wear of both in a fhower of
rain. It may perhaps be faid it is from habit
that different people liking their own way of
life beft, the favages are hindered from per-
ceiving the pleaſures of ours. Upon this foot-
ing, however, it muſt appear at leaſt very ex-
traordinary, that habit fhould have more in-
fluence to preferve in favages a reliſh for their
mifery, than in the Europeans a tafte for the
enjoyment of their felicity. But to make an
unanswerable reply to this objection; and that
without taking notice of the many young fa-
vages, whom no endeavours have been able to
civilize; or the natives of Greenland and Ice-
land, whom it has been ſeveral times attempted
to educate in Denmark, and who have either
pined away with grief afhore, or perifhed at
fea in attempting to fwim back to their own
country; I ſhall content myſelf with the cita-
tion of one well attefted example, and leave
it to the determination of thoſe who fo greatly
admire the police of European ſtates.
"The Dutch miffionaries have not been
able, with all their endeavours, to convert a
fingle Hottentot. Vander Stel their governor
at the Cape, having procured an Hottentot
child, had him educated in the principles of
the Chriſtian religion, and the manners and
cuftoms of Europe. He had him richly cloath-
ed, and inftructed in various languages; while
the boy's improvement was equal to the pains
beſtowed on him. The governor, full of ex-
pectations
8
OF MANKIND.
311
pectations from his pupil's capacity, ſent him
to the Indies with a commiffary general, who
employed him in tranfacting the company's
buſineſs. On his return, however, to the
Cape, after the death of the commiffary, he'
made a viſit to his Hottentot relations; in which
he took a refolution to throw off all his Euro-
pean finery, and to cloathe himself again in a
fheep's-fkin. Thus equipped, he returned to
the fort, bringing with him his other clothes
in a bundle, and prefenting them to the gover-
nor, addreffed him in the following words.
"Be fo good, Sir, as to take notice that I re-
nounce for ever this drefs. I renounce, like-
wife, for ever the Chriftian religion; my re-
folution being to live and die in the religion,
the manners and cuftoms of my anceſtors.
The only favour I afk of you, is to permit me
to wear this collar and hanger. I will keep
them for your fake." Having faid this, with-
out waiting for an anfwer from the governor,
he diſappeared in an inftant, and was never after
feen at the Cape." Hiftoire des Voyages, Tom. 5.
p. 175.
Page 232.
*
•
(17.) It might be objected here, that in fuch
a ftate of turbulence and diſorder, mankind
would have difperfed, inſtead of obftinately
cutting each others throats, had their difper-
fion been limited. But, in the first place, their
limits would only have been thoſe of the whole
earth; and if we reflect on the great population
reſulting from a ſtate of nature, we ſhall find
that in ſuch a ftate the earth would have been
covered, in a very fhort time, with men, thus
forced
312 ON THE INEQUALITY
forced to keep clofe together. Befides, had the
progrefs of the evil been rapid, they would
have difperfed, or had it been a change fuddenly
effected. But they brought their fetters with
them into the world; they were even in their
infancy too much inured by custom to the
weight of them, to feel them troubleſome ever
after. In fine, they were accuſtomed to a va-
riety of conveniences, which obliged them to
herd together: it was not fo eafy for them to
diſperſe now as in thofe early times, when no
man ſtanding in need of any other, every one did
what he liked beft, without waiting for any
other's confent.
Page 235.
(18.) Marſhal de V uſed to relate that
the frauds of one of the contractors for the
army, in one of his campaigns, having occa-
fioned a very general complaint among the
troops, he fent for the offender, and, after
rating him pretty handfomely, threatened him
with the gallows. To all which the hardened
rafcal calmly replied, that fuch threats did not
at all affect him, but that he was glad of an
occafion of telling the Marſhal, that a man is
not fo readily hanged who has an hundred
thouſand crowns at his difpofal. And I know
not how it happened, added the Marfhal in-
genuouſly, but ſo it was, the fcoundrel eſcaped
hanging, notwithſtanding he had deſerved it
an hundred times.
Page 251.
(19.) Diftributive juftice, indeed, would op-
pofe this rigorous equality of a ſtate of nature,
7
even
OF MANKIND.
313
even were it practicable in civil fociety; and
as all the members of the ftate owe it their
ſervices in proportion to their talents and abili-
ties, fo they ought, on their part, to be dif-
tinguiſhed and favoured in the fame proportion
to the fervices they have actually rendered it.
It is in this fenſe we muſt underſtand that paf-
fage of Ifocrates, in which he extols the pri-
mitive Athenians, for having determined which
of the two kinds of equality was the moſt uſe-
ful, viz. that which confifts in dividing the
fame advantages indifcriminately among all the
citizens in common, or that which confifts in
diftributing them to each according to his merit,
Theſe able politicians, adds the orator, banifh-
ing that unjuft inequality which makes no dif-
tinction between bad men and men of probity,
adhered inviolably to that which rewards and
puniſhes every man according to his deſert.
But in the first place, there never exiſted a
fociety, to whatever degree of corruption fome
have arrived, "wherein no difference was made
between the good and bad and with egard to
manners wherein no meaſures can be preſcribed
by law exact enough to ſerve as a practical rule
to magiftrates, it is with great prudence that,
in order not to leave the fortune or quality of
the citizens to their difcretion, fhe probibits
their paffing judgment on perfons and confines
it to actions. There are no manners, unleſs
ſuch as are pure as were thoſe of the ancient
Romans, that can bear with the office of cen-
fors, fuch a tribunal among us would throw
everything into confufion. The difference
between good and bad men is determined by
publick eſteem; the magiftrate being only a
magiftrate being only a
VOL. I. MISC.
judge
·
1.
314 OF THE INEQUALITY, &c.
judge of what is ftrictly juft and right; where-
as the publick is the trueft judge of manners,
a judge of fuch integrity and penetration, that
although it may be fometimes deceived, it can
never be corrupt. The rank of citizens ought,
therefore, to be regulated, not according to
their perfonal merit; as this method would put
in the power of the magiftrate to make an al-
moft arbitrary application of the law, but ac-
ording to the actual fervices they do the ftate,
which are capable of being fubjected to a more
exact eſtimate..
END of the FIRST VOLUMES.
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
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THE
MISCELLANEOUS
W OR K. S
OF
ean greues
Mr. J. J. ROUSSEAU.“.
VOLUME `II..
.....
....
LONDON:
Printed for T. BECKET and P. A. DE HONDT;">
in the Strand. MDCCLXVII,
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VOL. II. contains
A Differtation on Political Economy.. p、I-
A Letter on French Mufick..
59**
NARCISSUS; or the SELF-ADMIRER, a Có--
medy.
1214
The VILLAGE CONJURER, an Interludes 195-
Extract of a Letter from Mr. ROUSSEAU to a
Friend. Written from Montmorency the
5th of April, 1749, in regard to Mr. Rous-
SEAU'S Freedom of Entry at the Opera ; which~
was given him for his VILLAGE CONJU-
RER; was taken from him, on account of
his Letter on the French Mufick; and was of-
fered to be returned him again, after he had
quitted Paris.
217
A Letter from Mr. ROUSSEAU to Mr. VoL--
TAIRE.
•
225
Extract of a Letter from Mr. ROUSSEAU to a
Friend; on the Works of RAMEAU. 249
Advertiſement by Mr. ROUSSEAU, to an Ano-
nymous Writer.
255
On Theatrical Imitation. An Effay compofed
from the Dialogues of Plato.
263
[ * ]
A
DISSERTATION
ནྭ
ON
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
T
HE word Economy, or Economy, is
derived from díxos, a house, and vóμ,
law, originally fignifying only the pru-
dent and lawful government of an houſe, for
the common good of the whole family. The
meaning of this term hath been fince extended
to the government of the great family, the
ſtate. In diftinguiſhing theſe two acceptations
of the word, the latter is called general or po-
litical economy, and the other domeftic or par-
ticular economy. It is the firft only which is
difcuffed in the preſent tract.
Should it be admitted that there is as great a
conformity as many authors pretend between
the connections of a ſtate, and thoſe of a pri-
vate family, it would not thence follow that
the rules of conduct proper for one of theſe ſo-
cieties, would be alfo proper for the other.
They differ too much in magnitude and extent
to be regulated in the fame manner; for there
VOL. II. MISC.
B
will
2
A DISSERTATION ON
will be always a wide difference between the
domeftic government, in which a father may
be himfelf an eye-witneſs of the whole, and
the government of a political fociety, where
the chief fees hardly any thing but through the
eyes of other people. To put both on an
equality therefore in this refpect, it is requifite
that the talents, power, and all the other fa-
culties of a father, fhould be augmented in
proportion to the greatneſs of his family, and
that the foul of a powerful monarch ſhould be
in proportion to that of an ordinary man, as
the extent of his empire, is to that of a private
perfon's eſtate.
But how doth the government of a ſtate re-
femble that of a private family, the baſis of
which is ſo very different? The father being
naturally ſtronger than his children, his pater-
nal authority over them may be reaſonably faid
to be eſtabliſhed by nature, fo long as they
ftand in need of his affiftance. But in the great
family of the ftate, all the members of which
are naturally equal, the political authority,
being purely of arbitrary inftitution, muft be
founded only on mutual conventions, the ma-
giftrate having no authority over others, but
what he derives from the laws. The duty of a
father is dictated to him by his natural fenti-
ments, and in fuch a manner that he is feldom
capable of neglecting it. The chiefs of po-
litical fociety have no fuch rule, and are only
bound to the people by what they themselves
have promiſed to do, and which the people
have therefore a right to require of them. An-
other important difference is this, children
having nothing but what they receive of their
fa-
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
3
father, it is plain that every right of property
muſt be derived from him; the cafe is quite the
contrary in the political family, the general
adminiſtration of whofe government is eſta-
bliſhed only to fecure the property of indivi-
duals, which is antecedent. The principal ob-
ject of the labours of a private family, is that
of preſerving and increaſing the patrimony of
the father, to the end that he may one day dif-
tribute it among his children without impo-
verifhing them; whereas the wealth of the ex-
chequer affords only the means of ſupporting
a few individuals in luxury and eaſe.
In a word, the parental family is deftined to
extinction, and to be one day refolved into
many other families of the like nature: but the
political one, is calculated to remain always in
the fame ftate.
It is plain, for feveral reafons, deduced from
the nature of the thing, that a father ought to
govern in his own family. In the firſt place,
the authority ought not to be equally divided
between father and mother; but fhould be per-
fectly fingle, for in all cafes of divided opinions
there fhould be one determinate voice to de-
cide. 2dly, However lightly we may regard
the peculiar inconveniences attending the fex,
yet, as they neceffarily occafion intervals of
inaction, this is a fufficient reafon for exclud-
ing them from the fupreme authority: for when
the ballance is perfectly equal, a ftraw fuffices
to turn the ſcale. Befides, the huſband ought
to have the fuperintendency of his wife's con-
duct, becauſe it is of confequence to him to be
affured that the children, which he is obliged
to acknowledge and maintain, belong to no
B 2
body
1
4 A DISSERTATION ON
body but himſelf. 3dly, Children ſhould be
obedient to their father, at firft through necef-
fity, and afterwards from gratitude: after hav-
ing had their own wants fatisfied by him during
one half of their lives, they ought to confecrate
the other half to the gratification of his. 4thly,
With regard to domefticks, they owe him their
ſervice in exchange for the proviſion he makes
for them. I fay nothing here of abfolute fla-
very, becauſe this is contrary to nature, and
cannot be authoriſed by any law.
There is nothing, however, of all this in
political fociety; in which the chief is fo far
from having any natural intereft in the happi-
neſs of individuals, that it is not uncommon
for him to feek his own happineſs in their mi-
fery. If the magiftracy be hereditary, a com-
munity of men are frequently governed by a
child. If it be elective, innumerable incon-
veniences arife from fuch election; while in
both cafes the advantages of paternal connec-
tion is entirely loft. If you have but a fingle
chief, you lie at the diſcretion of a mafter who
has no reaſon to love you: and if you have ſe-
veral maſters, you have at once to ſupport their
tyranny over yourfelves, and their quarrels
with each other. In a word, abuſes, and their
fatal confequences are inevitable in fociety,
where the public weal and the laws have no
natural influence, and are perpetually attached
by perſonal intereft, and the paffions of the chief
and its members.
Although the functions of the father of a fa-
mily, and of the chief magiftrate ought to tend
to the fame purpoſe, they ought to effect it by
different means. Their duties and their pre-
rogatives
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
5
rogatives are fo effentially different, that we
cannot confound them together, without form-
ing very falſe ideas of the fundamental laws of
fociety, and falling into errors very fatal to
mankind. In fact, if the voice of nature be
the beſt guide to which a father can liften in the
diſcharge of his duty; it is with regard to the
magiſtrate a falfe director, leading him con-
ftantly out of the way of his duty, and which
fooner or later will bring on the ruin of him-
felf or of the ftate, unleſs prevented by the
moſt ſublime virtue. The only precaution ne-
ceffary for the father of a family, is to guard
againſt depravity, and to hinder the corruption
of his natural inclinations; whereas it is the
perfection of theſe which corrupt the magiſtrate.
In order to act aright, the fift hath nothing to
do but confult his own heart; the other be-
comes a traitor the moment he confults his.
Even his own judgment is juftly to be fufpect-
ed, nor hath he any other rule of conduct than
that of the public judgment, which is the law.
Thus nature hath made many good fathers of
families; but it is doubtful whether, from the
very beginning of the world, human wiſdom
hath ever made ten men capable of governing
mankind.
It follows, from what I have obferved, that
public economy is very juſtly diſtinguiſhed from
private; and that, the ſtate having nothing in
common with a particular family, the obliga-
tions which their feveral chiefs lie under of
making them happy as well as their rules of
conduct cannot be the fame. I thought it ne-
ceffary to ſay as much, in order to overthrow
"that odious fyftem, which Sir Robert Filmer
B 3
hath
6 A DISSERTATION ON
bath endeavoured to eſtabliſh in his Patriar-
chate; a work to which two celebrated writers
have done too much honour in refuting it. Be-
fides this errour is very ancient, Ariſtotle him-
felf having thought proper to contravert it;
as may be feen in the firſt book of his poli-
ticks.
I muft here beg of my readers to make an-
other proper diftinction; and this is, between
public economy, which I call government, and the
fupreme authority, which I call fovereignty; a
diftinction which confifts in this, the one hath
a legiſlative power, and in certain cafes is ob-
ligatory on the whole body of the nation;
while the other hath only an executive power,
and is obligatory merely on individuals.
I fhall take the liberty to make ufe of a very
common, and in fome refpects inaccurate,
comparison, though proper enough to illuftrate
my meaning in this particular.
The body politic, taken in itſelf as an indi-
vidual, may be confidered as an organized, liv-
ing body, refembling that of man. The fo-
vereign power reprefents the head; the laws
and cuftoms are the brain; the fource of the
nerves, and ſeat of the underſtanding, the will
and the fenfe; of which the judges and ma-
giftrates are the organs: commerce, induftry,
and agriculture are the mouth and ftomach
which prepare the common fubfiftence; the
public finances are the blood, which a pru-
dent economy, in performing the functions of the
heart, diftributes through the whole body, to
give it nutriment and life: the citizens are the
body, and the members which cauſe the ma-
chine to move and operate; no part of which
machine
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
7
machine can be wounded or injured without
caufing a painful impreffion on the brain, if the
animal be in a ſtate of health.
The life of both the one and the other, is
the perſonal identity common to the whole, the
reciprocal fenfibility and interior correfpon-
dence of all its parts. When this communica-
tion ceaſes, the formal unity is gone, and the
contiguous parts belong to each other only by
juxta-pofition, the man is dead, or the ftate is
diffolved.
The body politic, therefore, is a moral
being poffeffed of a will; and this general will,
which tends always to the preſervation and
welfare of the whole and of every part, and
which is the fource of the laws, is with regard
to all the members of the ſtate the rule of what
is juſt and unjuſt: a truth which fhews, by the
way, how idly fome writers have treated as
theft the fubtilty prefcribed to the Spartan
youths in obtaining their frugal repafts, as if
every thing ordained by the law was not law-
ful.
It is neceffary to remark, however, that this
rule of juftice, though certain with regard to
the citizens among each other, may be defec-
tive with regard to foreigners; the reafon of
which is evident. The will of the ftate, how-
ever general and obligatory with refpect to its
own members, is not binding on other ſtates
or their members, but becomes, with regard
to them, a particular and individual will, whofe
rule of juſtice is to be found in the law of na-
ture; a circumftance which is included never-
theleſs in the principles laid down. For in fuch
a cafe, the great city of the world becomes a
В 4
body
A DISSERTATION ON
body politic; whofe general will is always the
law of nature, and of which the different ftates
and people are only the individual members.
It is from theſe diſtinctions, applied to each
political fociety and its members, that flow the
moft certain and univerfal rules, on which we
are to form a judgment of a good or bad go-
vernment, and in general of the morality of alf
human actions.
Every political fociety is compofed of other
fmaller focieties of different kinds, each of
which hath its peculiar interefts and maxims:
but thofe focieties which every body perceives,
becauſe they have an external and authorized
form, are not the only ones that actually exiſt
in a ftate: all thofe individuals who are united
by a common intereft, compofe many others,
either tranfitory or permanent; whoſe influ-
ence is not the lefs real becauſe it is lefs appa-
rent, but the proper obfervation of whofe va-
rious relations conftitute the true fcience of
manners. It is the influence of all theſe tacit
or formal afſociations, that gives ſuch different
modifications as are obfervable in the appearance
of the public will. The will of theſe parti-
cular ſocieties hath always two relations; the
one to the members of the affociation, which
is a general will; the other to the great ſociety
of which they are members, and this is a par-
ticular will, which is often right with regard
to the first object, and wrong as to the fecond.
An individual may be a devout prieſt, a brave
foldier, or a zealous fenator, yet a bad citizen.
In like manner, any particular reſolution may
be advantageous to the lefs community, yet
very pernicious to the greater. It is true, that
par
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
particular focieties being always fubordinate to
the general, in preference to others, the duty
of a citizen takes place of that of a fenator,
and that of a man of thofe of a citizen: but
unhappily perſonal intereft is always in the
inverfe ratio of our duty, and is augmented in
proportion as the affociation grows more con-
fined, and the engagement leſs facred; an irre-
fragable proof that the general will is always
the moſt juft, and that the voice of the people
is in fact the voice of God.
It does not hence follow, that the public de-
terminations are always equitable; they may
poffibly be otherwife when they regard foreign-
ers; for which I have given a reaſon. Thus
it is not impoffible that a republick, though in
itſelf well governed, ſhould enter into an unjuft
war with others. Nor is it lefs impoffible for
the council of a democracy to paſs an unjuſt
fentence, and condemn the innocent; but this
never happens unleſs the people are feduced by
private interefts, which the credit or elo-
quence of fome artful individuals fubftitutes for
thoſe of the ſtate: in which the general
will is one thing, and the confequence of
the public deliberation another. Let not the
example of Athens be here objected; for Athens
was in fact no Democracy, but an Ariftocracy,
very tyrannical, and governed by philofophers
and orators. Let us carefully determine what
paſſes in every public deliberation, and we ſhall
fee that the general will is always for the com-
mon good; but that it often admits of a ſecret
divifion, a tacit confederacy, by which the
natural diſpoſition of the affembly is cluded.
The
B S
10
A DISSERTATION ON
The body of fociety is thus really divided into
others, the members of which embrace a ge-
neral will, which is right and juft with refpect
to theſe new bodies, but wrong and unjuſt with
regard to the whole body, from which each is
thus difmembered.
We fee thus how eafily, by the help of fome
leading principles, may be explained thoſe ap-
parent contradictions, which are remarked in
the conduct of many perfons who are fcrupu-
louſly honeſt in ſome reſpects, and knaves in
others; frequently trampling under foot the
moft facred obligations, and yet capable of ſa-
crificing their lives to engagements that are often
unjuft. It is thus we ſee the moſt depraved of
mankind pay fome fort of homage to public
faith; and even robbers, though enemies to
virtue in the midſt of ſociety in general, yet
pay fome respect to the fhadow of it among
themfelves. In eftabliſhing the general will
as the first principle of public economy, and the
fundamental rule of government, I did not
think it neceffary to enquire feriouſly whether
the magiftrates belonged to the people, or the
people to the magiftrates; or whether it was
neceffary in public affairs to confult the good
of the ftate, or that only of its chiefs. That
queftion indeed hath long been decided one.
way in theory, and another in practice. It is
indeed ridiculous to expect that thoſe who in
reality are maſters, will confult any other in-
tereft than their own. It would not be im-
proper, therefore, to make a farther diftinction
in public economy, into popular and tyranni-
cal. The firft is that of the whole ftate, in
which
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
ΙΣ
which the intereft and will of the chiefs and
the people are united: the other will neceffa-
rily exiſt every where, when the government
and the people have different interefts, and of
confequence oppofite wills. The maxims of
the latter are deſcribed at large in the archives
of hiftory, and the fatires of Machiavel.
The others are found only in the writings of
thoſe philofophers, who have ventured to re-
claim the privileges of humanity.
The first and most important maxim of a juft
and popular government, that is to ſay, of that
whoſe object is the good of the people, is there-
fore to follow univerfally, as I have obferved,
the general will. But to be able to follow this
will, it is neceffary that it fhould be known,
and above all that it fhould be diftinguiſhed
from the particular will of the governor a
diftinction which it is very difficult to make,
and requires the affiftance of the moft fublime
virtue. As in order to will alſo, it is neceſſary
to be free, here arifes a difficulty no less than
the former, viz. that of preferving at once the
public liberty and the authority of government.
Look into the motives, which have induced
men, once united by their common wants into
a general fociety, to unite themſelves ftill more
intimately by particular focieties: you will find
no other motive than the fecurity of property,
life and liberty to each member by means of
the protection of all. Now can men be com-
pelled to defend the liberty of any one among
them, without trefpaffing on that of others?
And how can they provide for the public necef-
fities without alienating the particular property
of thoſe who are forced to contribute to them?
With
B 6
12
A DISSERTATION ON
With whatſoever fophiftry all this may be co-
vered over, it is certain that if any reſtraint
be laid on my will, I am no longer free, and
that I am no longer maſter of my own pro-
perty, if it be in the power of others to take
any part of it from me. This difficulty, which
ſeems to be infurmountable, has been removed
by the moſt fublime of all human inftitu-
tions, or rather by divine infpiration, which
teaches mankind to imitate here below the un-
changeable decrees of the Deity. By what in-
conceivable art hath a way been found out, to
render men free by fubjecting them to con-
troll? To employ in the fervice of the ſtate
the properties, perfons and lives of all its mem-
bers, without confulting them, or laying them
under any conſtraint? Tò confine their will
by their own confent? To oppoſe that con-
fent to their refufal, and to compel them
even to puniſh themſelves, when they act againſt
their own will? How can it be, that all ſhould
obey, yet nobody take upon him to command,
that they fhould all ferve, and yet have no maf-
ters? Being fo much the more free as they
he under apparent fubjection, none loſe any
part of their liberty but that which might be
hurtful to another! Theſe prodigies are the
effect of the law. It is to the law alone that
men are indebted for juftice and liberty. It is
this falutary organ of the general will, which
eſtabliſhes in civil right, the natural equality of
mankind. It is this celeftial voice which dic-
tates to every citizen the precepts of public
reafon teaching him to act according to the
maxims of his own underſtanding, and not
to behave inconfiftently with himſelf.
8
It
is
POLITICAL ECONOMY. 13
is by this voice alone that political chiefs
fhould ſpeak when they affect to command
for no fooner doth one man, ſetting aſide the
law, pretend to fubject another to his will,
than he departs immediately from the ftate
of civil fociety, and oppofes him in a pure
ftate of nature; in which obedience is never
preſcribed but by neceffity.
The most preffing intereft of the chief, and
even his moft indifpenfable duty, therefore, is
to ſee that thoſe laws are obferved, of which he
is the minifter, and on which his whole autho-
rity is founded. At the fame time, if he ex-
acts the obfervation of them from others, he
is the more ſtrongly bound to obferve them
himſelf, who enjoys all their favour. For his
example is of fuch influence, that although the
people might even permit him to ſhake off the
yoke of the law, he ought to be cautious of
ufing fo dangerous a prerogative; left others
ſhould in time ufurp the fame privilege, and
that to his prejudice. In reality, as all focial
engagements are reciprocal, it is impoffible for
any one to ſet himſelf above the law, without
renouncing the advantages of it; for nobody is
bound by any obligation to him, who pretends
that he is bound under no obligation whatever
to others. For this reafon, no exemption from
the law fhould be annexed to any title what-
ever in a well regulated government. Thofe
citizens who have deſerved ever fo well of
their country, ought to be rewarded with ho-
nours, but never by privileges: for that repub-
lick is on the brink of ruin, whofe members be-
gin to think it is agreeable or advantageous not
to obey the laws. But if the nobility or the
foldiery
14
A DISSERTATION ON
foldiery fhould adopt fuch a maxim, all is loſt
beyond redemption.
The influence of the laws, however, de-
pends ſtill more on their own propriety and
wiſdom, than on the feverity of the adminif-
trators; as the public will derives alſo its great-
eft weight from the reafon by which it is dic-
tated. Hence it was that Plato looked upon it
as a very neceffary precaution, to place at the
head of all edicts a preamble, ſetting forth their
juftice and utility. In fact, the first of all laws,
is that which enjoins a refpect to the laws: the
ſeverity of penalties is only a vain reſource,
invented by little minds in order to fubftitute
fear in the place of that refpect, which they
knew not how to obtain. It hath been con-
ftantly remarked that in thofe countries whofe
legal puniſhments are moſt ſevere, they are alfo
the most frequent: fo that the cruelty of fuch
puniſhments is a proof only of the multitude
of criminals; whilft, by puniſhing all with
equal feverity, thoſe who are guilty of fmall
crimes are induced frequently to commit
greater, in order to avoid detection.
But though the government be not mafter of
the law, it is a charge of great importance to
adminiſter it, and to poffefs a thouſand means
of commanding refpect. It is in this alone.
confifts the art of reigning. When poffeffed of
the power, there is no art required to make the
whole world tremble; nor does it indeed re-
quire much to conciliate univerfal affection;
for experience hath long fince taught mankind
to confider as a great merit in their chiefs the
evil they abftain from doing; and to adore them if
they
ભેં
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
15
they have not abfolutely reafon to hate them.
An idiot, if obeyed, may puniſh offenders as
well as a wife man: but the true ftateſman is
he who knows how to prevent crimes, extend-
ing his refpectable empire over the inclinations
of men rather than their actions. If he could
bring things to fuch a pafs, that every one ſhould
act aright, he would then have nothing to do;
and the maſter-piece of his labours would be
that of remaining idle for want of employ-
ment. It is certain, at leaſt, that the great
art of governors is to diſguiſe their power, in
order to render themfelves lefs odious; and to
conduct the ftate fo peaceably as to make it
ſeem to ſtand in no need of conductors.
I conclude, therefore, as the firft duty of a
legiflator is to render the laws conformable to
the general will, the firft rule of public econo-
my is that the adminiftration of juftice fhould
be conformable to the laws. It would be even
fufficient to prevent the ftate's being ill-govern-
ed, if the legiflator fhould have provided, as he
ought, for all exigencies of place, climate, foil,
manners, vicinity, and the reft of the relations
peculiar to the people he hath inftituted. Not
but that an infinity of circumſtances, regard-
ing the police and economy, ftill remain ; which
muſt be left entirely to the wiſdom of govern-
ment: but there are two infallible rules for its
good conduct on theſe occafions; one is, that
the ſpirit of the law ought to determine in every
cafe that is not particularly foreſeen and pro-
vided for; the other is that the general will,
the fource and fupplement of all laws, fhould
be confulted wherever they are defective. It
may be aſked indeed, how that general will is
to
16
A DISSERTATION ON
to be known in regard to cafes, about which it
hath not been explained? Muft a whole na-
tion be aſſembled together at every new and
unforeſeen event? No, certainly. It ought
the lefs to be affembled, becauſe it is by no
means certain, that its decifion would exprefs
the general will; befides the method would be
impracticable in a great people, and is hardly ever
practifed under a well-meaning government: for
the chiefs are very fenfible that the general will
is always for that which is moſt favourable to
the public intereft; that is to fay, for that
which is the moft equitable; fo that they have
only to act juſtly, to be certain of following the
dictates of the general will. When this is in-
fringed too openly, it fails not of being per-
ceived, in ſpite of the formidable reſtraint of
public authority. I fhall cite a few examples
that may be followed in ſuch caſes.
In China the Emperor holds it a conftant
maxim to be againſt his officers, in every dif-
pute that arifes between them and the people.
If bread be too dear in any province, the in-
tendant of that province is thrown into prifon.
If there be an infurrection in another, the go-
vernor of it is difmiffed, and every mandarin
anfwers with his head for all the mifchief that
happens in his department. Not that theſe af-
fairs do not undergo a fubfequent and regular
examination, but long experience hath fhewn
this anticipation of judgment to be ſafe and ſa-
lutary. It is very feldom that any injuſtice hath
been thus committed: in the mean time, the
emperor, being well perfuaded that a public
outcry is never raiſed without caufe, difcovers
always through the feditious clamours which he
puniſhes,
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
17
puniſhes, thoſe real complaints for which he
affords redrefs.
It is doing a great deal to preferve peace and
order throughout all the parts of a large repub-
lick; it is doing a great deal to keep the ftate
tranquil, and caufe the law to be refpected:
but if nothing more is done, there will be in alt
this more of appearance than reality; for that
government will not eafily be obeyed which con-
fines its views to mere obedience. If it be good
to know how to employ mankind, being ſuch
as they are, it is much better to make them
fuch as it is requifite they fhould be. The moſt
abfolute authority is that which penetrates into
the interior part of man, exercifing itſelf not
only on his actions, but on his fentiments. It
is very certain that every people become in time
what the government cauſes them to be; are
warriours, citizens, men, if it ſo pleaſes; or are
merely populace, a vulgar mob, if fo it re-
quires them. Hence every prince who deſpiſes
his fubjects, diſhonours himſelf, in confeffing he
knows not how to make them refpectable. Form,
therefore, men; if you would command men :
if you would have them obedient to the laws,
order it fo that they fhall refpect thoſe laws,
and then they will need only to know what is
their duty to put it in practice. This was the
great art of the ancient governments, in thoſe
early times when philofophers gave laws to
mankind, and made ufe of their authority only
to render them wife and happy. Hence the
many fumptuary laws, the many regulations of
manners, and the many public maxims ad-
mitted or rejected on the matureft confideration.
Even
18 A DISSERTATION ON
Even tyrants themfelves did not forget this im-
portant part of the adminiftration; but were
as attentive to corrupt the manners of their
flaves, as the inagiftrates were to correct thoſe
of their fellow-citizens. But our modern go-
vernments, who imagine they have done every
thing when they have deviſed ways and means
for raiſing money, conceive it is unneceffary
and even impoffible to go a step farther.
2dly. The fecond effential rule of public
economy is no lefs important than the firft.
Would you have the general will accompliſh-
ed? Order it fo that the wills of particulars
are conformable to it; or in other words, as
virtue is nothing more than the conformity of
the particular wills of individuals with the ge-
neral, enforce the influence and practice of
virtue.
If our politicians were lefs blinded by their
ambition, they would fee how impoffible it is
for any eſtabliſhment whatever to ſubfift agree-
able to the fpirit of its inftitution, unlefs con-
fined within the limits of moral duty they
would perceive that the greateſt ſupport of public
authority lies in the breafts of the citizens, and
that nothing can be fubftituted in the place of
morals, for the fupport of government. It is
not only men of probity who know how to ad-
miniſter the laws properly; but in reality it is
none but ſuch who know how to obey them.
The man who once gets the better of remorſe,
will foon come to defpife corporal punishments,
leſs fevere, lefs durable, and which there is
hope at leaſt of eſcaping: whatever precautions
are taken, thoſe who only require impunity to
do
X
POLITICAL ECONOMY. 19
do evil, will not fail to find means of eluding
the law, and avoiding its penalties. In this
cafe, as the private intereft of particulars unit-
edly acts againſt the general intereft of the
public, which is no longer that of individuals,
the public vices will have a greater effect to-
ward enervating the laws, than the laws will
have power to reprefs, fuch vices: fo that the
corruption of the people and of their chiefs,
will at length extend itſelf to the government,
however prudent or fagacious. The worst of
all political abufes is, the paying an apparent
obedience to the laws, in order to break them
with the greater fecurity. For hence the beſt
laws become the moft pernicious; and it would
be an hundred times better thoſe laws had never
exifted. In fuch a fituation, edicts may be
publiſhed upon edicts, and laws be enacted after
laws to no manner of purpoſe. All this would
ſerve only to introduce new abuſes, without
correcting the old. The multiplicity of laws
renders them contemptible, and to appoint new
officers to ſee them put into execution,
is only to inſtitute new violators of them, either
to join with the old, or to plunder apart by
themſelves. The reward of virtue preſently
becomes that of robbery; the vileft of men riſe
into greatest credit; the greater they are the
more deſpicable they become; their infamy
diſcovers itſelf even in their dignities, and their
very honours contribute to difhonour them. If
they purchaſe for themſelves the patronage of
the chiefs or the protection of their women, it
is only that they may fell juſtice, duty, and the
ftate in their turn; in the mean time, the peo-
ple who do not fee that their vices are the firſt
caufe
20
A DISSERTATION ON
cauſe of their misfortunes, murmur and com-
plain that "all their evils are derived from thoſe
whom they pay to protect them."
The fuggeftions of duty no longer influence
the people, while their rulers are obliged to
fubftitute in their room, the threats of terror,
or the glimmerings of apparent intereft, by
which they deceive their creatures. It is in
this fituation that they are reduced to have re-
courſe to thoſe petty and defpicable shifts which
they call maxims of state and myfteries of the ca-
binet. The little power that remains of go-
vernment is employed by its members, in ruin-
ing and fupplanting each other, while the pub-
lic bufinefs is neglected, or is tranfacted only
as perfonal intereft requires and directs. In
fhort, all the art of thoſe great politicians lies,
in faſcinating the eyes of thoſe they ſtand in
need of, in fuch a manner that each may think
he is labouring for his own intereſt in working
for theirs I fay theirs on the falfe fuppofition
of its being the real intereft of rulers, to anni-
hilate a people in order to make them obedient,
and to ruin their own property in order to fe-
cure its poffeffion.
But when the citizens are fond of their duty,
and the guardians of the public authority fin-
cerely apply themſelves to cultivate that fond-
nefs by their own example and affiduities, all
the difficulty of adminiſtration vanishes; and
the government are difpenfed with making ufe
of that dark kind of policy, whoſe obſcurity
is its only myſtery. Thoſe enterprizing ſpirits,
fo dangerous and fo much admired, all thoſe
great minifters, whoſe glory is infeparable from
the miſeries of the people, are no longer re-
gretted :
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
21
:
gretted the public morals fupply the want of
genius in the rulers; while the more virtue pre-
vails, the leſs need is there for extraordinary
talents. Even ambition itſelf is better ferved
by duty than ufurpation: when the people are
convinced that their rulers labour only for their
happineſs, they fave them the trouble of la-
bouring to confirm themſelves in power: and
hiſtory fhews us in a thoufand places, that the
authority of a perfon beloved over thoſe who
love him, is an hundred times more abſolute
than all the tyranny of ufurpers. Not that it
is here meant, the government ought to be
afraid to make uſe of its power, but that it
ought to make ufe of it only in a lawful man-
ner. We find in hiſtory a thouſand examples
of pufillanimous or ambitious princes, ruined
by their effeminacy or pride; but not one who
fuffered by having been ſtrictly juft. But we
ought not to confound negligence with mode-
ration, or candour with weakneſs. To be juft,
it is neceſſary to be ſevere; to fuffer vice when
one has the right and the power to fupprefs it,
is to be vicious one's felf.
It is not ſufficient merely to fay to the citi-
zens, be good; they must be inftructed to be
fo; and even example, which is in this reſpect
the firſt leffon, is not the only means to be em-
ployed; the love of one's country is the moſt
efficacious: for, as I have already obferved,
every man is virtuous when his particular will is
conformable to the general will of the commu-
nity, and we are naturally led to have the fame
inclinations as thoſe we love. It appears that
the fentiment of humanity evaporates and grows
feeble
22 A DISSERTATION ON
feeble in embracing all mankind, and that we
cannot be affected with the calamities of Tar-
tary or Japan, in the fame manner as we ſhould
be by thofe of European nations. It is necef-
fary in ſome degree to confine and compress our
fenſe of compaffion in order to give it activity.
Now as this ſentiment cannot be uſeful but to
thoſe with whom we live, it is proper that our
humanity, confined to our fellow-citizens,
fhould receive a new force from the habit of
feeing them, and by the common intereft which
unites them. It is certain that the moſt mira-
culous efforts of virtue have taken riſe from
patriotifm: this agreeable and lively fentiment
which gives to the force of felf-love all the
beauty of virtue, gives it alſo an energy, which
without making it unnatural, renders it the moſt
heroic of all paffions. It is this which hath
produced fo many immortal actions, the glory
of which dazzles our weak eyes: it is this
which hath produced fo many great men, whoſe
antiquated virtues have paffed for mere fables
ever fince patriotifm hath been turned into de-
rifion. Not that this is a matter of furprize;
the tranſports of fufceptible hearts appear in
like manner altogether chimerical to thoſe who
have not, or cannot experience them; and the
love of one's country, an hundred times more
lively and delightful than a paffion for a miſtreſs,
cannot be conceived by thofe who have never
felt it. But it is eaſy to remark in every heart
that is warmed by it, in all the actions it in-
fpires, a more glowing, more fublime ardour
than attends the pureft virtue when feparated
from this paffion. Let us oppoſe Socrates even
to
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
23
to Cato; the one was the greater philofopher,
the other more of the citizen. Athens was al-
ready ruined in the time of Socrates, and he
had no other country than the univerfe. Cato
had the cauſe of his country ever at heart;
he lived only for its welfare, and could not fur-
vive its deftruction. The virtue of Socrates
was that of the wiſeſt of men; but Cato, com-
pared with Cæfar and Pompey, ſeems to be a
God contending with mere mortals. Socrates in-
ſtructed a few individuals, oppoſed the Sophiſts,
and died a martyr to truth: but Cato defended
his country, its liberty and laws, against the
conquerors of the world, and at length re-
figned his breath, when he no longer had a
country to ferve. A worthy pupil of Socrates
would be the moft virtuous of his cotempora-
ries; but a worthy follower of Cato would be
one of the greateft. The virtue of the former
would conftitute his happineſs; the latter would
feek his happinefs in that of the whole fociety.
We ſhould be inftructed by one, and directed
by the other; and this alone is fufficient to de-
termine the preference between them: for
there never were a people made philofophers,
but it is not impoffible to make a people happy.
Are we defirous a people fhould be virtuous?
Let us begin, therefore, by making them love
their country: but how can they love it, if
their country be nothing more to them than to
ftrangers, and that it affords them nothing but
what it refuſes to nobody? It would be ftill
worſe, if they did not enjoy the privileges of
focial fecurity, and that their lives, liberties and
properties lay at the mercy of certain powerful
in-
24
A DISSERTATION ON
individuals, without their being permitted, or
its being poffible for them, to obtain relief from
the laws. For in that cafe, being fubjected to
the duties of civil fociety, without enjoying
even the common privileges of a ſtate of na-
ture, and without being able to employ their
ftrength in their own defence, they would of
courſe be in the worst condition freemen could
poffibly be, and the word country would only be -
to them a ridiculous and odious terin. It must
not be imagined that a man can break his arm,
or have it cut off, without feeling pain in his
head: nor is it any more to be conceived that
the general will can confent, that any one
member of the ſtate, in what rank foever, fhould
injure or deſtroy another, than it is to be fup-
pofed that the hands of a man in his fenfes
ſhould wilfully ſcratch his eyes out. The fe-
curity of individuals is fo intimately connected
with the public confederacy, that, if no regard
were paid to human weakneffes, that confede-
racy would in point of right be diſſolved, if a
fingle citizen were fuffered by the ftate to pe-
rifh who might be relieved, or if he fhould be
confined wrongfully in prifon, or if his property
fhould be injured by an unjuft fentence. For the
fundamental laws of the focial convention being
broken, there exifts no longer either obligation
or intereft that ſhould preferve the focial union.
of the people; unless they were reftrained in-
deed by force, which alfo diffolves the civil
compact.
In fact, the engagement entered into by the
whole body of the nation, binds it to provide
for the fecurity of the meaneft individual with
the fame care as for that of all the reſt: the
welfare
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
25
welfare of each fingle citizen being as much
a common caufe as that of the whole ftate.
Will it be faid that it is proper for one to pe-
1ish for all? I ſhould admi:e that ſaying indeed
when coming from the lips of a virtuous and
worthy patriot voluntarily and dutifully facri-
ficing himfelf for the good of his country: but
if we are to underftand by it, that it is lawful
for the government to facrifice an innocent man
for the good of the multitude, I look upon it
as the moft execrable maxim that tyranny ever
invented, the greateft falfehood that can be ad-
vanced, and the moft directly contrary to the
fundamental laws of fociety. Any one perfon
ought to be ſo far from fuffering for all, that
all have engaged their lives and properties to
defend thoſe of each, in order that the weak-
nefs of individuals may be protected by the
ftrength of the publick, or each member by the
whole ftate. Let us take from the whole peo-
ple by fuppofition, every individual one after
another, and then prefs the advocates for this
maxim to explain more particularly what they
mean by the body of the ftate, and we fhall fee
it at length reduced to a ſmall number of per-
fons, who are not the people, but the officers
of the people, and who, being obliged by per-
fonal oath to perifh themfelves for the fecurity
of the people, would thence infer that the peo-
ple are to perifh for theirs.
Do we require examples of the protection which
the ſtate owes to its members, and the refpet
it owes their perfons? It is only in the hiſtory
of the moft illuftrious and magnanimous na-
'tions that they are to be found; it is only among
a free people that the dignity of man hath been
VOL. II. MISC.
C
ever
26
A DISSERTATION ON
ever properly reſpected. It is well known into
what perplexity the whole republic of Sparta
was thrown, when the punishment of a cri-
minal citizen came under confideration.
In Macedon, the life of a man was an af-
fair of fo much importance, that Alexander
the Great, in the zenith of his glory, durft
not in cold blood put a Macedonian criminal to
death, till the accufed had been permitted to
make his defence before his fellow-citizens,
and had been legally condemned. But the Ro-
mans diftinguiſhed themſelves above all other
people on earth by the regard which their go-
vernment paid to individuals; and by its feru-
pulous attention to preferve inviolable the rights
and privileges of all the members of the ſtate.
Nothing was more facred among them than the
life of a citizen; no lefs than an affembly of
the whole people being required to condemn
one. Not even the Senate, nor the Confuls,
in all their majefty, were invefted with this
prerogative; but the crime and puniſhment of
a citizen were held as objects of public calamity.
among the most powerful people in the world.
Capital puniſhments were indeed thought fo fe-
vere in any cafe whatever, that by the law of
Porcia, the penalty of death was commuted
into that of baniſhment, for all thoſe who were
defirous of ſurviving the lofs of ſo amiable a
country. Every thing both at Rome, and in
the Roman armies, breathed that love for their
country and fellow-citizens, that reſpect for
the Roman name which raiſed the courage and
fired the virtue of every one who had the ho-
nour to bear it. The cap of a citizen deliver-
ed from flavery, the civic crown of him who
had
POLITICAL ECONOMY. 27
had faved the life of another, were looked upon
with the greateſt pleaſure amidft the pomp of
their triumphs; and it is remarkable that among
the feveral crowns beftowed on the fucceſsful
in war, the civic crown and that of the trium-
phant hero himſelf only were formed of laurel,
all the others were of mere gold. It was thus
that Rome was virtuous and became the mif-
treſs of the world. Ambitious rulers! An
herdſman governs his dogs and cattle, and yet
is only one of the meanest of mankind. If it
be a fine thing to command, it is when thoſe
who obey us are capable of doing us honour.
Shew refpect, therefore, to your fellow-citizens,
and you will render yourſelves reſpectable;
fhew refpect to liberty, and your power will
daily encreafe. Stretch not your prerogatives,
and they will foon become unlimited.
Let our country, therefore, fhew itſelf the
common mother of her citizens; let the ad-
vantages they enjoy in their country ſerve to
render it dear to them; and let the laws appear
to them only the guardians of their common
liberty. Thefe privileges, great as they are,
belong to all mankind: but without feeming
directly to attack them, the ill defigns of their
rulers may in fact eafily reduce them to nothing.
The law, which they thus abufe, ferves the
powerful at once as an inftrument of offence,
and as a fhield againſt the weak; while a pre-
tence to the public good is always a dangerous
fcourge to the people. What is moft neceffary,
and perhaps the moft difficult in government,
is a rigid integrity in doing ſtrict juftice to all;
and in particular to protect the poor againſt
the tyranny of the rich. The greatest evil is
C 2
already
28 A DISSERTATION ON
already effected, when there are poor to be de-
fended, and rich to be reftrained. It is on the
middling people alone the whole force of the
laws is exerted; being equally incapable to
withſtand the opulence of the rich and the
penury of the poor. The firft eludes them, and
the fecond eſcapes them. The one breaks
the fnare, and the other paffes over it.
It is therefore one of the moſt important ob-
jects of government, to prevent an extreme in-
equality of fortunes; not by taking away the
wealth of the poffeffors, but in depriving them
of means to accumulate them; not by build-
ing hoſpitals for the poor, but by preventing
the citizens from becoming poor. The unequal
diftribution of the inhabitants of a country,
fome being thinly ſcattered over a large tract of
land, while others are affembled together in
crouds in cities; the encouragement of the
agreeable, inftead of the ufeful, arts; the facri-
ficing agriculture to commerce; the mal-ad-
miniftration of the finances; and in ſhort, that
exceſs of venality which fets public eſteem at
a pecuniary value, and rates even virtue
at a market price: thefe are all the moſt ob-
vious cauſes of opulence and of poverty, of
the public intereft, the mutual hatred of the
citizens, their indifference for the common
cauſe, the corruption of the people, and the
weakening all the ſprings of government. Such
are of courſe the evils, which are with difficulty
cured when they are perceived; but which a
wife adminiſtration ought to prevent, in order
to maintain, together with good morals, a re-
fpect for the laws, a love for one's country, and
the influence of the general will.
But
POLITICAL ECONOMY. 29
But all theſe precautions will be infufficient,
if things are not taken ftill nearer the root. I
finiſh this part of the public economy in the
place where it ought to have begun. One's coun-
try cannot fubfift without liberty, nor liberty
without virtue, nor virtue without citizens: you
would have every thing by forming citizens;
without that you will have nothing but wretched
flaves, and the firft of thefe will be the rulers
of the ſtate. Now to form citizens is not the
work of a day; and in order to have men it is
neceffary to educate children. It will be faid
perhaps, that whoever hath men to govern,
ought not to look for a degree of perfection of
which their nature is not fufceptible;. that we
ought not to exterminate the paffions of man-
kind; and that fuch an attempt is no more
defirable than it is poffible. I will agrce, far-
ther than all this, that a man without paffions
would certainly make a very bad citizen; but
it must be confeffed alfo that, if men are not
taught to love fomething, it is impoffible to
inftruct them to prefer one object before ano-
ther; to prefer that which is truly beautiful to
that which is deformed. If, for example, they
were early accuftomed to regard the individual
only according to its relations with the body of
the ftate, and to be fenfible of their own exiftence,
if I may fo exprefs myfelf, merely as it forms a
part of the public; they may at length come
to identify themſelves in a degree with the great
whole, to feel themfelves members of their
country, and to love it with that exquifite fen-
fibility which every independent being hath only
for itſelf; to raiſe their mind perpetually to
this great object, and thus to transform into a
fublime
C 3
"
30
A DISSERTATION ON
fublime virtue that dangerous difpofition, which
gives rife to all our vices. The poffibility of
theſe new directions of fentiment are not only
demonftrated by philofophy; but hiſtory fur-
niſhes us with a thoufand ftriking examples.
If they are rare indeed among us moderns, it
is becauſe nobody troubles himſelf whether
citizens exift or not; and ftill lefs doth any
body think of taking the trouble to form them.
It is too late to change our natural inclinations,
when they have already taken their courſe, and
felf-love is confirmed by habit: it is too late
to lead us out of ourfelves when once the hu-
man individual, concentrated in our hearts,
hath acquired that contemp ible activity which
abſorbs all virtue and conftitutes the life and
being of little minds. How can the love of
one's country germinate in the midst of fo
many other paffions, by which it is fuppreffed and
ftified? And what can remain, for the citizen,
of an heart already divided between avarice, a
miftrefs, and vanity?
Men ought to begin to learn to merit life,
the first moment of it; and, as at the inftant
of our birth we partake of the rights and privi-
leges of citizens, that inftant ought to be the
commencement of the exercife of our duty. If
there are laws for the age of maturity, there
ought to be laws for infancy, teaching obedi-
ence to the others: and as the reaſon of any
one man is not the fole arbiter of his duty,
government ought ftill lefs indifcriminately to
abandon to the ignorance and prejudices of fa-
thers the education of their children, as that
education is of much greater importance to the
ftate than to fuch fathers themſelves: for, ac-
cording
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
3¹
cording to the courſe of nature, the death of
the father often deprives the child of the
finiſhing part of that education; but his coun-
try fooner or later perceives its effects. Fa-
milies diffolve, but the ftate is permanent.
Should public authority, in taking the place
of fathers, and charging itſelf with that impor-
tant function, acquire their prerogatives by dif-
charging their duties; thofe fathers would have
fo much the lefs fubject to complain, as in that
refpect they would only change their name, and
have in common, under the appellation of
citizens, the fame authority over their children,
as they now exerciſe feparately under the name
of fathers, and would not be lefs obeyed when
fpeaking in the name of the law, than they
were in ſpeaking after the voice of nature. A
public education, therefore, under proper regula-
tions preſcribed by the government, and under
magiftrates appointed by the fovereign, is one
of the fundamental maxims of popular or law-
ful government. If children are educated in
common and as equals; if they are taught a
reſpect for the laws and the maxims of the
general will; if they are inftructed to reſpect
theſe above all things; if they are furrounded
by examples, and objects which are conftantly
reminding them of the tender mother which
hath nouriſhed them, of the love fhe bears
them, of the ineftimable value of what they
have received from her, and of the return
which is due to her, we cannot doubt that they
would hence learn to cherish each other mu-
tually as brothers, to will nothing contrary to
the general will of the fociety, to fubftitute
the actions of men and citizens in the place of
C 4
the
32
A DISSERTATION ON
the futile and vain babble of fophifts, and to
become in time defenders and fathers of a
country, which fo long has nouriſhed them as
her children.
I fhall fay nothing of the magiftrates deſtined
to prefide over fuch an education, which is
certainly the moſt important bufinefs of the
ftate. It is eafy to ſee that if fuch marks of
public confidence be conferred on flight grounds,
if this fublime function be not confined to thoſe
who have worthily diſcharged all the other
offices, as the reward of their labour and the
honourable repoſe of their old age; if it be
not held as the highest honour they can arrive
at; the whole enterprize would be uſeleſs and
the ſcheme of education void of fuccefs. For
wherever leffons are not fupported by authority,
and precepts by example, all inftruction is
fruitless; and virtue itſelf is difcredited by the
lips of him who teaches without practifing it.
But let thofe illuftrious warriours who bend
under the burthen of their laurels, be the
perfons appointed to inculcate valour : let up-
right magiftrates, grown grey in the adminiftra-
tion of juftice, be the men made choice of ta
teach it. Such teachers as thefe would thus
form virtuous fucceffors, and tranfmit from age
to age, through fucceffive generations, the ex-
perience and talents of rulers, the courage and
virtue of citizens, and excite an univerſal emu-
lation in all to live and die for their country.
I know of but three people who formerly
practiſed this method of public education, viz.
the Cretans, the Lacedemonians, and the ancient
Perfians: among all of whom it was attended
with the greateft fuccefs, and indeed effected
prodigies
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
33
1
prodigies among the two laſt.
When the
world is divided into nations too great to be
well governed, this method is no longer prac-
ticable; many other reaſons alfo will fuggeft
themſelves to the reader, why fuch a thing has
never been attempted by any modern people.
It is very remarkable that the Romans were
able to fubfift without it: but Rome was for
five hundred years one continued miracle which
the world muſt not expect to ſee again. The
virtue of the Romans, arifing from their hatred
to tyranny and of the crimes of tyrants, added
to an innate principle of patriotifm, made the
houſes of individuals all fo many ſchools for
the education of citizens; while the unlimited
power of fathers over their children made the
domeftic policy fo very rigid, that the father
was more feared than the magiſtrate, and was
in his family tribunal both a cenſor of manners.
and executor of the laws.
It is thus a careful and well-defigning go-
vernment, watching inceffantly over the
people's love for their country, and over
their morals, may prevent thofe evils which
fooner or later refult from the indifference
of the citizens for the fate of the republick ;
and would confine within narrow bounds, that
perfonal intereft which renders individuals for
detached and independent, that the ftate fuffers
from their power, and hath nothing to hope
from their good will. Wherever the people
love their country, refpect the laws, and live
fimply, little is wanting to render them happy;
and in a public adminiftration wherein chance
hath leſs to do than with the fate of individuals,
C 5
wiſdom
34
A DISSERTATION ON
wiſdom is ſo nearly allied to happineſs, that the
two objects are infeparable.
3dly, It is not enough to have citizens and to
protect them, it is alſo neceffary to provide for
their fubfiftance. To provide for the public
wants is an evident confequence of the general
will, and the third effential duty of government.
This duty is not, as it fhould feem, to fill the
granaries of individuals and thereby to diſpenſe
with their labour; but to keep plenty always
within their reach, fo that labour fhould be
always neceffary to acquire it and never uſeleſs.
It extends itſelf alfo to every thing regarding
the management of the exchequer, and the
expences of public adminiftration. Having
thus treated of general economy with regard to
the government of perfons, it remains to con-
fider it with regard to the adminiftration of
property.
This part prefents no fewer difficulties and
contradictions than the preceeding. It is cer-
tain that the right of property is the moft
facred of all civil rights, and even more im-
portant in fome refpects than liberty itself;
either becauſe it fo nearly affects the preferva-
tion of life, or becaufe a man's property being
more eaſily injured and with greater difficulty
defended than his perfon, the law ought to pay
a greater attention to that right which is moft
eafily infringed; or either, laftly, becauſe pro-
perty is the true foundation of political fociety,
and the genuine fecurity of all civil engage-
ments for if men were not anfwerable in their
property for perfonal actions, nothing would
be more eaſy than for them to evade their ob
ligations
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
35
ligations and laugh at the laws. On the other
hand, it is not lefs certain that the mainte-
nance and government of a ſtate is expenfive;
and as every one who agrees to the end muft
acquiefce in the means, it follows that the
members of a fociety ought to contribute their
property to its fupport. Befides it is difficult
to fecure the property of individuals on one-
fide, without bearing hard upon it on fome
other indeed it is impoffible that all the re-
gulations which regard the order of fucceffion,
wills, contracts, &c. fhould not lay indivi-
duals under fome conftraint as to the difpofal of
their effects, and of courſe be fome infringe-
ment of their right of property.
But befides what I have above obſerved of
the agreement which fubfifts between the
authority of the law and the freedom of the
citizen, there remains an important remark to
be made, with refpect to the difpofal of effects,
which may remove many difficulties.
This is, as Puffendorf has demonftrated from
the very nature of the right of property, that
it extends not beyond the life of the proprietor,
but that the moment a man is dead his eftate
no longer belongs to him. Thus, to preſcribe
the conditions according to which he is to dif
poſe of it, is in reality lefs altering his right in
appearance than extending it in fact.
In general, altho' the inftitution of the laws,,
which regulate the power of individuals to dif-
poſe of their own effects, belongs only to the
fovereign, the fpirit of the laws, which the
government ought to follow in their applica
tion, is that of father to fon, and from relation
to relation, fo that the eftate of a family ſhould
C 6
&&
36 A DISSERTATION ON
go as little out of it and be as little alienated
as poffible. There is a very fenfible reaſon for
this in favour of children, to whom the right
of property would be ufelefs, if the father
fhould leave them nothing, and who befides
having often contributed to the acquifition of
their father's wealth, are affociates with him
in his right of property. But there is another
reafon more diftant, tho' not lefs important;
and this is, that nothing is more fatal to man-
ners and to the republick than the continual
fhifting of rank and fortune among its mem-
bers: thefe changes being the fource of a
thouſand diſorders; overturning and confound-
ing every thing; for thofe who are elevated for
one purpoſe are often qualified only for ano-
ther; neither thoſe who rife, nor thoſe who
fall, being able to adopt the maxims, or pof-
fefs themſelves of the qualifications requifite
for their new condition, and ſtill much leſs diſ-
charge the duties of it. But to procced to the
public finances.
If a people could govern themfelves, and there
were no intermediate agent between the admi-
niftration of the ftate and the citizens, they would
have no more to do than to make affeffments
occafionally, according to the public neceffities
and the abilities of individuals: and as they
would all keep in fight the gathering in and
employment of fuch affeffments, no fraud nor
abufe could happen in the management of
them, the ftate would never be involved in
debt, nor the people burthened with impofts;
or at leaſt the certainty of their being well em-
ployed, would be a confolation for the ſeverity
of the tax. But things cannot be carried on
in
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
37
in this manner: on the contrary, however
fmall any ftate may be, it is always too popu-
lous to be under the immediate government of
all its members. It is neceffary that the public
money fhould go through the hands of the
chiefs, all of whom have, befides the intereſts
of the ftate, that of their own at heart; which
laft is not always the leaft attended to. The
people, on their part, who perceive rather the
avidity and ridiculous expence of their chiefs,
than the public wants, murmur to fee them-
felves ftripped of neceffaries to furniſh others
with fuperfluities; and when once thefe com-
plaints are embittcred to a certain degree, the
moft upright adminiftration will find it im-
poffible to recover their confidence. In fuch
a fituation, voluntary contributions would pro-
duce nothing; and compulfive ones would be
unlawful; fo that it is in this cruel alterna-
tive, of the ftate being ruined, or the facred.
right of property being violated, which is its
fupport, that the great difficulty of a juſt and
prudent economy fubfifts.
The first step which the founder of a re-
publick ought to take after the eſtabliſhment of
laws, is to fettle a fufficient fund for the main-
tenance of the magiftrates and other officers,
and for other public expences. This fund, if
it confift of money, is called ærarium or the ex-
chequer; and the public demefnes, if it confift of
lands. This laft is much preferable to the
other for obvious reaſons. Whoever hath fuf-
ficiently reflected on this matter, muſt be of
the opinion of Bodin in this refpect, who
looks upon the public demefnes as the moſt
reputable and certain means of providing for
the
38
A DISSERTATION ON
the neceffities of a ſtate. It is remarkable alfo
that Romulus, in his divifion of lands, firſt
took care to ſet apart a third fhare for the uſe
of the ftate. I confefs it is not impoffible for
the produce of fuch demefnes badly managed,
to be reduced to nothing; but it is not effential
to them to be badly adminiftred.
Previous to all application, this fund ſhould
be affigned or accepted by an affembly of the
people, or by the ftates of the country; which
fhould determine its future ufe. After this
folemnity, which renders fuch funds unalien-
able, they change in a manner their very na-
ture, the revenues becoming fo facred, that it
is not only the most infamous theft, but actual
treaſon to miſapply them or pervert them from
their original deſtination. It reflects a great
diſhonour on Rome, that the integrity of Cato
the cenfor was fomething fo very remarkable,
and that an emperor, on rewarding the talents
of a finger with a few crowns, thought it
neceffary to obſerve that the money came from
his own private purfe, and not from the public
treaſury. But if we find few Galbas, where
fhall we look for a Cato? For when vice is no
longer difhonourable, what chiefs will be fo
fcrupulous as to abstain from touching the
public revenues left to their difcretion, and
even not to affect in time to confound their
own expenſive and fcandalous diffipations with
the glory of the ftate, and the means of ex-
tending their own'influence with that of aug-
menting its power? It is particularly with re-
gard to this delicate part of the adminiftration,
that virtue alone is the only efficacious inftru-
ment, and that the integrity of the magiftrate
7
is
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
39
is the only rein capable of reftraining his
avarice. Books of accounts, inſtead of ſerving
to expofe frauds, tend only to conceal them;
for prudence is never fo ready to conceive new-
precautions as knavery is to elude them.
Never mind account books and papers there-
fore, but place the management of the finances
in honeſt hands: this is the only way to have:
them well employed, however they are account-
ed for.
When the public funds are once eſtabliſhed,.
the chiefs of the ftate become of right the ad-
miniftrators of them: for this adminiftration
conftitutes a part of government, always effen-
tial, tho' not always equally fo. Its influence
encreaſes in proportion as that of other re-
fources is diminiſhed; and it may juſtly be faid
that government is arrived at its laft ftage of
corruption, when nothing hath any influence
in it but money. Now as every government
conftantly tends to relaxation, this alone fhews.
why no ftate can fubfift unleſs its revenues are-
conftantly on the increafe.
The first fenfe of the neceffity of this in
creaſe, is alſo the firſt ſign of the internal dif-
order of the ſtate; and the prudent adminiftra-
tor in his endeavours to find means to prevent
the prefent neceffity, will neglect nothing to
find out the diftant caufe of it; even as a ma-
riner who, finding the water gaining upon his
veffel, neglects not, while he is working the
pumps,to feek out and ftop the leak.
From this rule is deduced the most important
maxim in the adminiftration of the finances,
which is to ftudy more to prevent the want of
fupplies, than to increaſe the revenues. For,
whatever
40
A DISSERTATION ON
whatever diligence be employed, the relief
which only comes after the evil and ftill more
flowly, leaves always fome injury behind. At
the fame time, while a remedy is providing for
one evil, another is felt, and even thoſe remedies
themſelves are productive of new inconve-
niences; ſo that at length the nation is involved
in debt, the people are oppreffed, the govern
ment lofes its influence, and is able to do but
very little with a great deal of money. I ima-
gine it is to this maxim well eſtabliſhed,
that we are to impute the prodigious things ef-
fected by the ancient governments; who did
more with their parfimony than ours with all
their treaſures; and perhaps it is from hence
that the common acceptation of the word econo-
my is derived; rather meaning the prudential
management of what one has, than the means
of acquiring what one has not.
But independently of the public treaſure,
which is of ſervice to the ftate in proportion to
the probity of thoſe who govern, a perſon ſuf-
ficiently acquainted with the influence of ad-
miniſtration in general, would be aſtoniſhed to
reflect on the refources which the chiefs are
poffeffed of, to prevent all public wants with-
out trefpaffing on the properties of individuals.
As the governors are maſters of the whole com-
merce of the ſtate, nothing is more eaſy for
them than to direct it in fuch channels as to
provide for every exigence, without appearing
to trouble their heads about it. The diftribu-
tion of provifions, of money, and of mer-
chandiſes in a juft proportion according to
times and circumftances, is the true fecret of
the finances and the fource of their wealth, pro-
víded
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
41
vided that thofe who adminifter them, have
forefight enough to fuffer a prefent apparent
lofs, in order to obtain the immenfe profits of
a future gain. When we fee a government
paying a bounty, inſtead of receiving duties,
on the exportation of corn in time of plenty,
and the importation of it in time of ſcarcity,
it is really neceffary to have the fact before one's
eyes to be perfuaded of its reality, and that it
is not one of the romances of ancient times.
Let us fuppofe that, in order to prevent a ſcar-
city in bad years, a propofal were made to eſta-
blifh public magazines; would not the execu-
tion of fuch an eſtabliſhment ferve in moft
countries as a fine pretext for new impofts?
At Geneva indeed fuch granaries, eſtabliſhed and
kept up by a prudent adminiſtration, are a public
refource in barren ſeaſons, and the principal
revenue of the ſtate at all times. Alit et ditat
is the beautiful and juft infcription which ſtands
on the front of the edifice. To exhibit here
the economical fyftem of a good government,
I have often turned my eyes to that of this re-
publick, happy to find in my own country an
example of that wifdom and happineſs which
I ſhould be glad to fee prevail in every other.
If we fhould enquire into the caufes of the
wants of a ſtate, we ſhould find they generally
aife in the fame manner as the wants of an
individual; lefs from any real neceffity than by
the increaſe of uſeleſs defires; and that the ex-
pence is often augmented only to have a pre-
text to raiſe the demand: fo that the ſtate is
often a gainer by pretending to be rich, while
this apparent wealth is in reality more burthen-
fomẹ to it than even poverty itſelf. The go
vernors
42
A DISSERTATION ON
vernors may poffibly hope to keep a people in
a ſtricter ſtate of dependence, by thus giving
them with one hand what they take from them
with the other; and indeed this was the kind
of policy, which Jofeph made ufe of with the
Egyptians but this political fophiftry is by fo
much the more fatal to a ftate as the money
never returns into the hands it went out of;
but on the contrary fuch maxims ferve only to
enrich the luxurious and idle at the expence of
the honest and induſtrious.
A defire of conqueft is one of the moſt fen-
fible and one of the most dangerous cauſes of
this augmentation. This defire, occafioned
often by a different fpecies of ambition than
that which feems natural to it, is not always
what it appears to be, and has not fo much for
its real motive, the apparent defire of aggran-
dizing the nation abroad, as a fecret defire of
increaſing the authority of the chiefs at home,
by the augmentation of the troops, and by that
diverfion which the objects of war occafion in
the minds of the citizens.
This at least is certain, that no people are
fo oppreffed and miferable as conquering na-
tions, their fucceffes abroad only increafing
their miſery at home. Did not hiſtory inform
us, common fenfe would, that the greater
a ftate grows the more burthenfome become
its expences in proportion: for it is neceffary that
every province fhould furnish its contingent to
the general expence of government, and that be-
fide this it fhould be at the expence of its own
particular adminiftration, which is as great as if
it was really independent. Add to this, that
great fortunes are always acquired in one place
and
POLITICAL ECONOMY. 43
and ſpent in another; which breaks thro' the
equipoife of the product and conſumption, and
greatly impoverishes a whole country merely to
enrich one town.
Another ſource of the increaſe of public
wants, depending on the foregoing, is this.
There may come a time when the citizens, no
longer looking upon themſelves as intereſted in
the common caufe, will ceafe to be defenders
of their country, and in which the chiefs would
rather have the command of mercenaries than
free-men; if it were for no other reaſon than
in the end to fubject the latter more eaſily to
the former. Such was the ftate of Rome to-
ward the end of the republick and under the
emperors for all the victories of the primitive
Romans, like thoſe of Alexander, were won by
brave citizens, who would voluntarily fpill
their blood in the fervice of their country, but
would never fell it on any occafion. Marius
was the firſt who, in the Jugurthine war, dif-
honoured the Roman legions by introducing
freedmen, vagabonds and other mercenaries.
The tyrants became the enemies of the very
people it was their duty to make happy,
maintaining a number of regular troops, in ap-
pearance to awe foreigners, but in reality to enflave
the natives. In order to form fuch troops, it was
neceffary to take off a number of hufband-
men from cultivating the lands; the want of
whofe labour of courfe diminished the quantity
of provifions, and the maintenance of whom
introduced thofe taxes which increafed their
price. This firſt diſorder gave rife to mur-
murs among the people; in order to fupprefs
which, the number of the troops was in-
creaſed,
44
ON
A DISSERTATION
creaſed, and confequently the miſery of the
people; whoſe deſpair increafing rendered ſtill
a farther increaſe of the cauſe in order to pre-
vent its effects. On the other hand, the mer-
cenaries, whofe merit we may judge of by the
price at which they fold themfelves, proud of
their own meannefs, and defpifing the laws that
protected them, as well as their fellows whofe
bread they eat, imagined themſelves more ho-
noured in being Cefar's guards than in being
defenders of Rome; thus devoted by their
fituation to a blind and implicit obedience, they
had always their poniards at the throats of their
fellow-foldiers, ready to make ufe of them at
the word of command. It were not difficult
to fhow that this was one of the principal
cauſes of the ruin of the Roman empire.
The invention of artillery and fortification,
hath obliged the princes of Europe, in mo-
dern times, to re-establish the ufe of regular
troops, in order to garrison their towns: but,
however lawful their motives, it is to be feared
the effect of them may be no lefs fatal.
There is no better reafon now than formerly
for depopulating the country to form armies.
and garrifons; the people ought to be as little
oppreffed to fupport them; in a word, theſe
dangerous eſtabliſhments have encreafed of late
years with fuch rapidity in this part of the
world, that they evidently threaten the ap-
proaching depopulation of Europe, and fooner
or later the intire ruin of its inhabitants.
But be this as it will, it ought to be obſerved
that ſuch inſtitutions neceffarily fubvert the true
economical ſyſtem which draws the principal
revenue of the ftate from the public demefnes,
and
+
POLITICAL ECONOMY. 45
and leaves only the dreadful reſource of fubfidies
and impofts; of which it remains for me to
treat. It fhould be remembered here that the
foundation of the focial compact is property;
and its firſt condition, that every one ſhould be
maintained in the peaceful poffeffion of what
belonged to him. It is true that by the fame
treaty every one tacitly confents to be affeffed
toward the public wants: but this engagement
being incapable of hurting the fundamental law,
and fuppofing that the evidence of fuch wants
muſt appear to every one who contributes to
them, it is plain that fuch affeffment, in order
to be lawful, fhould be voluntary; not indeed
particularly fo, as if it were neceſſary to have
the confent of each individual, and that he fhould
give no more than juſt what he pleaſed, but ſo far
voluntary as it fhould be done by the confent of
the majority of the citizens, and upon an
equitable and impartial footing.
That impofts cannot be lawfully eſtabliſhed
but by the confent of the people or their re-
preſentatives, is a truth generally admitted by
all philofophers and civilians of any reputation,
not even excepting Bodin himſelf. If any of
them alſo have eſtabliſhed maxims apparently
contradictory, their particular motives for it
may be eaſily ſeen through; and befides they
introduce fo many conditions and reſtrictions
that the argument comes at the bottom to the
very fame thing: for whether the people have
it in their power to refufe, or the fovereign
ought not to exact, is a matter of indifference
with regard to right; and if the point in queftion
be only with regard to the power, it is mighty
ufelefs to enquire whether it be lawful or not.
The
46 A DISSERTATION ON
The contributions which are levied on the
people, are of two kinds; the one real, which
is levied on commodities, and the other perfo-
nal, which is paid by the head. Both one and
the other are called impofts and fubfidies: when
the people appoint the particular fum that is to
be paid, it is called a fubfidy; but when they
grant the produce of a tax, it is called an im-
poft. We are told in the Spirit of Laws, that
a capitation tax is moſt conformable to flavery,
and a real tax moft agreeable to liberty. It
might indeed be really fo, if the circumftances
of every perſon were equal; for otherwife no-
thing can be more diſproportionate than ſuch a
tax; and it is in the obfervations of exact pro-
portions that confifts the ſpirit of liberty. But
if a capitation tax were exactly proportioned
to the tate and circumftances of individuals,
as what is called the capitation tax in France.
might be, it would be the moft equitable and
of confequence the moft conformable of all
others to free-men.
Theſe proportions appear at firft very eafy
to be obſerved, becauſe as they relate to the
rank which every one holds in life, the indi-
cations of it are always public: but it is rare
that a proper regard is paid to all the elements
that ſhould enter into fuch a calculation, fetting
afide the deception arifing from avarice, fraud
and intereft. In the first place, fhould be con-
fidered the relation of quantities, according to
which, every thing elfe being equal, the perfon
who has ten times the property of another man
ought to pay ten times as much to the ftate.
Secondly, the relation of cuſtom, that is to
fay, the diftinction between neceffaries and
fuper-
POLITICAL ECONOMY. 47
fuperfluities. He who poffeffes only the com-
mon neceffaries of life fhould pay nothing at
all, while the tax on him who is in poffeffion
of fuperfluities, might be juſtly extended to
every thing beyond mere neceffaries. To this
the latter will poffibly object, in regard to his
rank, that what may be fuperfluous to a man
of inferior ſtation is neceffary for him. But
this is falfe: for a peer of the realm has two
legs as well as a cow-herd, and he has but one
belly any more than the clown. Beſides, thefe
pretended neceffaries are really fo little necef-
fary with regard to rank, that if he fhould re-
nounce them on any worthy occafion, he would
only be the more honoured and refpected. The
populace would be ready to adore a miniſter
who fhould go to council on foot, becauſe he
had fold off his equipage to fupply a preffing
exigence of ſtate.
A third relation, which is never accounted
any thing, and which ought to be accounted
the chief, is the utility that every perfon
derives from the focial confederacy; which
powerfully protects the immenfe poffeffions of
the rich, and hardly leaves the poor the quiet
poffeffion of the cottage he builds with his own
hands. Almoſt all the advantages of fociety
are for the rich and powerful. All the lucra-
tive employments are in their hands. All the
privileges and exemptions are reſerved for them
alone; while the public authority is ever par-
tial in their favour. Let a man of eminence
and diſtinction rob his creditors, or be guilty
of other knaveries, is he not always fure to do
it with impunity? The affaults, affaffinations,
and even murders committed by the great, are
affairs
28
A DISSERTATION ON
affairs that are hufhed up in a few months, and
nothing more is thought of them.
But let a great man himſelf be robbed or in-
fulted, the whole police is immediately in mo-
tion, and woe be even to the innocent perfons
who chance to be ſuſpected of the fact. If he
be to pass through any dangerous road, the
country is up in arms to escort him. If the
axletree of his chaiſe breaks, every body flies to
his affiftance. Is there a noife made at his door,
he ſpeaks but a word and all is filent. Is he
incommoded by the crowd, he waves his hand
and every one makes way for him. Is his coach
met on the road by a waggon, his fervants are
ready to beat the driver's brains out for not
making way, as if fifty honeft people going
quietly about their buſineſs had better be knock-
ed on the head than the equipage of an idle
lord be interrupted. Yet a'l this refpect cofts
him not a farthing: it is the privilege annexed
to the rank of a rich man, and not purchaſed by
his wealth. How very different is the cafe with
the poor! the more that is due to him from hu-
manity, the leſs is paid to him by fociety. Every
door is ſhut againſt him even when he hath a
right to its being opened: and if at any time he
obtain juftice, it is with much greater difficulty
than others obtain favours. Is the militia to
be raiſed, or the highways to be mended, he
hath conftantly the preference here; always
bearing the burthen which his richer neigh-
bour has intereft enough to get exempted from.
On the leaft accident that happens to him,
every body avoids him: if his cart be overturn-
ed in the road, fo far is he from receiving any
affiftance, that he is lucky if he don't get horſe-
whipped
POLITICAL ECONOMY,
49
whipped by the impudent lackeys of the people
of quality that happen to paſs by: in a word,
all gratuitous affiftance is denied to the poor,
merely becauſe they cannot pay for it. But I
look upon that poor man as totally undone,
who has the misfortune to have an honeft heart,
a fine daughter, and a powerful neighbour.
There is another remark no lefs important,
which is that the loffes of the poor are much
leſs reparable than thoſe of the rich, and that
the difficulty of acquifition always increaſes in
proportion to the neceffity of it. Ex nihilo ni-
hil fit, "nothing comes of nothing," is as true
in politics as in phyfics: money is the feed of
money, and the firſt guinea is fometimes more
difficult to be acquired than the fecond million.
Add to all this, that what is paid by the poor
is for ever loft to them, and remains in, or re-
turns to, the hands of the rich and as among
thoſe only who ſhare in the government or their
dependents, fooner or later all the produce of
the impoſts muſt paſs, ſo in paying their ſhare
they have always a fenfible intereft in augment-
ing them.
The terms of the focial compact between
theſe two orders of people may be expreffed in
a few words. "You have need of mc, be-
cauſe I am rich and you are poor, we will
therefore come to this agreement. I will per-
mit you to have the honour of ferving me, on
condition that you beſtow on me the little that
remains in your poffeffion, in return for the
pains I fhall take to command you."
Putting all theſe confiderations carefully to-
gether, we ſhall find that, in order to levy
taxes in a truly equitable and proportionable
VOL. II. Misc.
D
man-
50 A DISSERTATION ON
manner, the impofition ought not to be in the
fimple ratio of the property of the contributors,
but in a ratio compounded of the difference of
their conditions, and the fuperfluity of their
poffeffions. This very important and difficult
operation is daily made by numbers of honeſt
financiers, ſkilled in political arithmetic; but
is what a Plato or a Montefquieu would not
venture to undertake without great diffidence,
and praying to heaven for peculiar underſtand-.
ing and integrity.
Another inconvenience attending a perfonal
tax is, that it is too openly perceived, and is
raiſed with too great feverity; which does nothin-
der it, however, from being frequently evaded;
becauſe it is much eaſier for perfons to avoid a
tax than their poffeffions.
Of all impofts, the centieme, or hundredth
penny, on lands, hath been adjudged the moſt
advantageous in thofe countries where greater
regard is had to the produce of the tax, and
the certainty of levying it, than to the eaſe of
the people. It hath been even pretended that
it is neceffary to burthen the peaſant in order to
excite his induftry, and that he would never
work if he had no taxes to pay. But univerfal
experience confutes this ridiculous notion. In
England and Holland the farmer pays very
little, and in China nothing: yet theſe are the
countries in which the land is the best cultivat-
ed. On the contrary, in thofe countries where
the huſbandman is taxed in proportion to the
product of his lands, he leaves them unculti-
vated, or juſt reaps fo much from them as fuf-
fices him for bare fubfiftence. For to him who
is doomed to lofe the fruit of his labour, it is
ſome
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
51
fome gain to do nothing. To lay á tax on in-
duftry, is alſo a very fingular expedient for
baniſhing idleness. From a tax on lands or
upon corn, eſpecially when it be very great,
refult alſo ſuch terrible inconveniences, that
they muſt neceffarily depopulate, or in the end
bring to ruin every country where it is eſtabliſh-
ed.
The firft arifes from a defect in the circula-
tion of fpecie ; for induſtry and commerce draw
all the money from the country into the capi-
tal cities: while the impoſt deſtroying the pro-
portion which might otherwiſe fubfift between
the neceffities of the huſbandman and the price
of his corn, the money goes away inceffantly,
and never returns; and thus the richer the cities
the poorer the country. The produce of the
taxes paſſes from the hands of the prince or the
financiers into thoſe of the artiſts and traders ;
while the huſbandman, who receives only the
fmalleft part of it, is at length exhauſted by
paying always the fame, and receiving con-
ftantly lefs. How could an human body ſub-
fift that had veins and no arteries, or whoſe ar-
teries conveyed the blood only within four
inches of the heart? Chardin tells us that
in Perfia the royal revenues on commodities
are paid in kind: this cuftom, which Hero-
dotus informs us, prevailed heretofore in the
fame country till the time of Darius, might
prevent the evil, of which I have been ſpeak-
ing. But unless the intendant, directors, com-
miffaries and ftore-keepers in Perfia, are a dif-
ferent kind of people to what they are elfe-
where, I can hardly think the ſmalleſt part of
this produce ever reaches the king, but that the
D 2
corn
52
A DISSERTATION ON
corn is fpoilt in all the granaries, and that the
greater part of the magazines are conſumed by
fire.
The fecond inconvenience arifes from an
apparent advantage, which aggravates the evil
before it be perceived. This is, that corn is a
commodity, whofe price is not enhanced by
taxes in the country producing it, and which,
in ſpite of its abfolute neceffity, may be dimi-
niſhed in quantity without the price being aug-
mented. Hence it is, that many people may
die of hunger, although the corn fhould con-
tinue cheap, the huſbandman alone remaining
charged with the tax, for which he cannot in-
demnify himſelf by the price of his corn. It
is here neceffary to obferve, that we ought not
10 reafon upon a land-tax in the ſame manner
as on the duties laid on different kinds of mer-
chandize, which of courſe raiſe their price, and
are leſs paid by the fellers than by the buyers.
For thefe duties, however heavy, are neverthe-
lefs voluntary, and are paid by the merchant
only in proportion to the quantity he buys;
while at the fame time he buys only in proportion
to his fale but the farmer who is obliged to
pay his rent at ſtated times, whether he fells or
not, cannot wait till his commodity is at the
price he ſhould chufe: and, though he fhould
not be forced to fell for mere fubfiftence, he
muft fell to pay the taxes; ſo that it is frequent-
ly the enormity of the tax that occafions corn
to be fold at a low price.
It is to be farther remarked, that the refour-
ces of commerce and induftry are ſo far from
rendering the tax more fupportable through a
plenty of money, that they only render it more
bur-
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
53
burthenfome. I fhall not infift upon a circum-
ſtance that is very evident; viz. that, although
a greater or lefs quantity of money in a ſtate,
may give it a greater or lefs credit in the eye of
foreigners, it makes not the leaft alteration in
the real fortune of the citizens, or renders them
more eaſy in their circumſtances. But I muſt
make two important remarks: the one is, that
unleſs a ſtate poffeffes fuperfluous commodities,
and the abundance of its fpecie ariſes from its
foreign trade, it is only the trading cities who
are fenfible of that abundance; while the pea-
fant and husbandman becomes relatively the
poorer. The other is, that the price of every
thing being enhanced by the increaſe of fpecie,
the imports will of courfe be augmented in pro-
portion; fo that the labourer will find himſelf
ftill more burthened without having more re-
fources.
It ought to be obferved that the tax on lands,
is a real impoft or duty laid on the produce of
them. It is univerfally agreed, however, that
nothing is fo dangerous as an impoft on corn.
when it is to be paid by the purchafer: but
how comes it we do not fee that it is an hun-
dred times worfe when this duty is paid by the
cultivator or farmer himself? Is not this at-
tacking the fubfiftance of the ftate even in its
fource? Is not this directly aiming at the de-
population of a country, and of confequence
at its ruin? for the worst kind of ſcarcity that
can happen to a nation is its want of inha-
bitants.
It belongs only to the real ftatefman to ele-
vate his views, in the impofition of taxes,
above the mere object of the finances, to transform
D 3
thoſe
54
A DISSERTATION ON
thoſe heavy burthens into uſeful regulations, and
by fuch means to make the people even doubtful
whether fuch eſtabliſhments were not calculated
rather for the good of the nation in general,
than for raifing money to the government.
Duties on the importation of foreign com-
modities, of which the natives are fond, and
the country ftands in no need; upon the ex-
portation of thofe of the growth of the coun-
try which are not too plenty, and which fo-
reigners cannot poffibly do without; on the
productions of the frivolous and too lucrative
arts; upon the entry of every thing of mere
amuſement, and in general on all objects of
luxury; fuch duties, I fay, might anſwer the
two-fold end propofed. It is by ſuch impoſts,
indeed, that the poor are eaſed, and the bur-
then is thrown on the rich. Theſe are the
means to prevent the continual augmentation
of the inequality of fortunes; the fubjection
of fuch a multitude of artizans and uſeleſs fer-
vants to the rich, and the multiplication of idle
people in our cities, and the depopulation of the
country.
It is of confequence alfo, to keep ſuch a pro-
portion between the value of any commodity
and the duties laid on it, that the avarice of in-
dividuals may not be too ftrongly tempted to
fmuggling. To prevent this practice alfo, it is
expedient to lay the heaviest duties on commo-
dities that are the most difficult to be concealed.
In a word, it is proper that all duties ſhould
be rather paid by the confumer of the commo-
dity taxed than by the perſon who vends it:
as the quantity of duties he is by fuch means
obliged to pay, will lay him under greater
tempta→
POLITICAL ECONOMY. 55
temptations, and afford him more opportunities
for fraud.
This is the conftant cuftom in China, a
country where the impofts are greater and yet
better paid than in any other part of the world.
The merchant himſelf there pays no duty; but
the buyer only, and that without murmurings
or fedition; becauſe the neceffaries of life, fuch
as rice and corn, being abfolutely exempted
from taxation, the common people are not
oppreffed, and the duty falls only on perfons in
eafy circumftances. As for the reft, all pre-
cautions againſt fmuggling, ought not to be
dictated ſo much by the fear of the fact, as by
the attention which the government ſhould have
to prevent individuals from being feduced by
exorbitant profits; which tend firft to make
them bad citizens, and afterwards difhoneft
men.
Heavy taxes fhould be laid on fervants in li-
very, on equipages, rich furniture, fine cloaths,
on fpacious courts and gardens, on public en-
tertainments of all kinds; on ufelefs profef-
fions, fuch as dancers, fingers, players, and in
a word, on all that multiplicity of objects of
Juxury, amuſement and idleness, which ftrike
the eyes of all; and which can the lefs be hid,
as their whole purpoſe is to be ſeen; without
which they would be ufelefs. We need be
under no apprehenfions alfo, that the produce
of theſe taxes would be arbitrary, becauſe they
are laid on things not abfolutely neceffary.
Thoſe muſt know but little of mankind who
imagine that, after they have been once feduc-
ed by luxury, they can ever renounce it: they
would an hundred times fooner renounce com-
D 4
mon
56
A DISSERTATION ON
mon neceffaries, and had much rather die with
hunger than fhame. The augmentation of their
expence would be only an additional reaſon
for fupporting them, when the vanity of ap-
pearing opulent would find its account in the
price of the thing and the charge of the tax.
So long as there are rich people in the world,
fo long will they be defirous of diſtinguiſhing
themſelves from the poor, nor can the ftate de-
viſe a revenue leſs burthenfome nor more cer-
tin than what would arife from this diftinc-
tion.
For the fame reafon, induftry would have
nothing to fuffer from fuch a fpecies of econo-
my, which would increaſe the finances, encou-
rage agriculture by relieving the hufband-
man, and infenfibly tend to bring all fortunes.
neater to that mediocrity which conſtitutes the
genuine ftrength of the ftate. It might happen,
I confefs, that theſe impofts would the fooner
put an end to certain fafhionable articles of
drefs and amuſement; but it would be only to
introduce others, by which the artificer would
be a gainer, and the exchequer fuffer no lofs.
In a word, let us fuppofe that the ſpirit of
government conftantly tended to tax only the
fuperfluities of the rich, one of theſe two things.
muft happen: either the rich would convert
their fuperfluous expences into uſeful ones,
which would redound to the profit of the ftate,
and thus the impofition of taxes would have
the effect of the beft fumptuary laws; the ex-
pences of the ſtate would neceffarily diminifh
with that of individuals; and the treaſury
would not receive fo much lefs from this cauſe
as it would gain by having leſs to pay; or, if
the
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
57
the rich did not contract their profufion, the
exchequer would have fuch refources in the
taxes on it, as would provide for the exigences
of the ſtate.
In the firſt cafe the treaſury would be en-
riched by what it would fave, from having the
lefs to do with its money; and in the fecond, it
would be enriched by the ufelefs expences of
individuals. We may add to all this a very
important diſtinction in matters of policy; and
to which governments, conftantly tenacious of
doing every thing for themfelves, ought to pay
great attention. It has been already obferved.
that capitation taxes and duties upon the necef-
faries of life, directly trefpaffing on the right
of property, and of courſe the true foundation
of political fociety, are always fubject to dan
gerous confequences, if not eſtabliſhed with
the expreſs confent of the people, or their re-
preſentatives. It is not the fame with taxes
laid on fuch articles, as we might eafily dif-
penſe with for the individual being under no
abfolute neceffity to pay, his contribution may
paſs for voluntary; fo that the particular con-
fent of each contributor fupplies the place of
the general conſent of the whole people for
why ſhould a people oppoſe the impofition of
a tax which is to be paid only by thofe who
chufe it? It appears to me certain that every
thing, which is not profcribed by the laws,
nor is contrary to morality, and yet may be
prohibited by government, may be alfo per-
mitted by the government on paying a certain
duty. Thus, for example, if the government
may prohibit the ufe of coaches, it may moft
certainly impofe a tax upon them;, which is a
D 5
pru-
:
58 A DISSERTATION, &c.
prudent and uſeful method of cenſuring them
without abfolutely interdicting them. In this
cafe, the tax may be looked upon as a kind of
penalty, the product of which compenfates for
the abuſe it puniſhes. It may perhaps be ob-
jected that thoſe, whom Bodin calls impofteurs,
that is to fay, thofe who impofe or contrive the
taxes, being in the clafs of the rich; they will
be very careful how they ſpare others in order to
load themſelves, or lay a charge on themſelves
to the relief of the poor. But this is quite out
of the queſtion. If, in every nation, thofe,.
to whom the fovereign hath committed the go-
vernment of the people, are enemies to them
by their fituation, it is not worth while to en-
quire what they ought to do to render them
happy.
A LET
**
**
*
**
A
LETTER
O N
FRENCH MUSICK.
Sunt verba et voces, prætereaque nihil,
**
[ 60 ]
ADVERTISEMENT.
T
HE quarrel, which aroſe laſt year at the
Opera, being kept up only by abuſe,
thrown out with a good deal of wit by one
party, and retorted with as much animofity by
the other, I declined taking any part in the
affair for this kind of conteft does not, in any
fhape, agree with me, and I faw it was not then
a proper time to gain attention to reafon. At
prefent, the buffoons being difmiffed, or on the
point of being fo, and caballing at an end, I
fhall hazard my opinion; which I fhall give
with my
my ufual fincerity, without fearing
my frankneſs ſhould offend. It even appears
to me that upon fuch a fubject, referve would
be injurious to my readers: for I confefs I
ſhould have but a very indifferent opinion of a
people, who ſhould give a ridiculous impor-
tance to mere fing-fong; who ſhould ſet greater
ftore by their fiddlers than their philofophers;
and among whom it would be neceffary to talk
of mufick with as much circumfpection as of
the graveft fubjects of morality. It is for the
reafon I have juft hinted at, that, although
fome, it is faid, accufe me of having fhewn a
want of reſpect to the French mufick, in my
first edition, the much greater refpect and ef-
teem which I owe to the nation, prevent my
making any alteration in the prefent.
It
ADVERTISEMENT.
61
It would be almoſt incredible alſo, if it re-
lated to any other perfon but myſelf, that I
fhould be charged with fpeaking contemptu-
oufly of the French language in a work, where
it is only mentioned as relating to mufick. I
have not altered a fingle word, touching this
point, in the prefent edition, fo that the rea-
der may judge for himſelf, after a cool and at-
tentive perufal, whether or not ſuch accufation
be juſt.
It is true, that, although we have had fome
excellent poets, and even fome muficians not
deftitute of genius, yet I think our language
but little adapted to poetry; and not at all to
mufick. On this head I may venture to ap-
peal even to the poets themfelves; for as to
the muſicians, every body knows it is quite
needleſs to confult them on any fubject of rea-
foning. In return, however, the French lan-
guage appears to me that of fages and philo-
fophers it feems formed to be the organ of
truth and reaſon; wo be to him who of
fends either the one or the other by diſhonour-
ing it. As to my own part, the moft worthy
homage I think my felf capable of paying to
that beautiful and correct tongue, which I
have the happineſs to make ufe of, is to en-
deavour not to debaſe it.
:
But, though I will not, and think I ought
not to change my manner of writing with
regard to the publick; although I expect no-
* This is the opinion of the Author of the Let-
ter on the deaf and dumb; an opinion which he
well maintains in his appendix to that work, and
ftill better proves by all his writings.
thing
62
ADVERTISEMENT.
thing of it, and give myſelf as little trouble
about its fatires as its encomiums; I think I
ought to reſpect it more than that herd of mer-
cenary and dangerous writers, who flatter it
out of felf-intereft. This refpect, it is true,
does not confift in thofe artful pretences,
which betray the writer's opinion of the weak-
nefs of his readers; but in paying due defe-
rence to their judgment, by fupporting the
propofitions advanced with folid reaſoning;
which is what I have always endeavoured to
do. Thus in whatever light we regard things,
in equitably difcuffing all the clamours which
this letter hath excited, I am apprehenfive in
the end, that my greateft fault will be found
to be that of having the truth on my fide; for
which I am fenfible that in this caſe I ſhall never
be forgiven.
1
A
[ 63 ]
A
LETTER
Ο Ν
FRENCH MUSIC K.
YOU
OU must remember, Sir, the ftory of
the Silefian infant, ſpoken of by Mr.
de Fontenelle, who was born, it was faid,
with a golden tooth in its head. The literati
of Germany were all immediately employed
in learned differtations, to explain how a child
might be born with a golden tooth. The laft
thing they thought of was to enquire into the
truth of the fact; which having done, it ap-.
peared that the tooth was not gold. To pre-
vent our falling into the fame errour, it may not
be amifs, before we ſpeak of the excellence of
the French, mufick, to be affured of the reality
of its exiſtence ; and to examine firſt, not whe-
ther it be of gold or not, but whether there be
really any at all.
The Germans, the Spaniards, and the Eng-
Jifh have long pretended to poffefs a mufick
peculiar to their own language. In fact they
have their own country operas which they really
admire; and yet they were formerly perſuaded
it
64
A LETTER ON
it would do honour to their tafte, to abolish
thoſe maſter-pieces, becauſe they were infup-
portable to the ears of all other nations. At
length, however, pleafure got the better of va-
nity, and they facrificed to taſte and reaſon
thoſe prejudices, which render a people often
ridiculous, merely from the notions of honour
they annex to them.
We are now in France in the fame fituation
which the Engliſh were in formerly; but who
can affure us, that becauſe we are more opini-
onative and poſitive, we are therefore more in
the right? Would it not be proper, in order
to form a right judgment of this matter, to
bring the French mufick to the ftandard of
reaſon, and fee if it will bear the teſt?
It is not my defign to enter here into a pro-
found examination of this point; it is not the
buſineſs of a letter, nor perhaps is it mine. I
would only endeavour, therefore, to eſtabliſh
a few principles, on which, till better are diſ-
covered, the mafters of this art, or rather phi-
lofophers may direct their reſearches: for it was
formerly faid by a fage, that it belongs to a
poet to write verſes, to a muſician to compoſe
mufic; but that it belongs only to a philoſo-
pher to treat properly either of the one or the
.other.
All mufick is compoſed only of three things.;
melody or fong, harmony or the accompany-
ment, and movement or meaſure.
Although fong takes its principal character
from meaſure; as it arifes immediately from
harmony, and always fubjects the accompany-
ment to it, I fhall here join thefe two parts in the
fame
FRENCH MUSICK.
65
fame article, and afterwards fpeak of the mea-
fure ſeparately.
:
Harmony, having its principle in nature, is
the fame for all nations; or, if there be any
minute differences, they are introduced by that
of melody thus the particular character of a
national mufick is deduced from melody alone:
fong properly fo called, exerting its influence in
proportion as its character is principally given
by the language.
It is eafy to conceive that fome languages are
more proper for mufick than others, and that
there may be ſome languages totally improper
for any. Of the latter kind would be a language
compofed of mixt founds, of mute, furd and
nafal fyllables, of few fonorous vowels, and a
great many confonants and articulations; and
which might want fome of thoſe eſſential con-
ditions which I fhall fpeak of under the arti-
cle of meaſure. For the fake of curiofity, let
us enquire what would be the confequence of
applying mufick to ſuch a language.
In the first place, the want of force in the
found of the vowels would oblige the compo-
fer to give a good deal to the notes, and be-
cauſe the language would be furd, the mufick
would be noify. In the fecond place, the hard-
nefs and frequency of the confonants would
oblige him to exclude a great number of words,
to proceed on others only by elementary tones,
fo that the mufick would be infipid and mono-
tonous. For the fame reafon, it would be flow
and tireſome, and when the movement ſhould
be ever fo little accelerated, its hafte would re-
ſemble that of an hard and angular body roll-
ing along on the pavement.
As
66
A LETTER ON
As fuch a mufick would be deftitute of all
agreeable melody, the compofer would endea-
vour to fupply its place, by factitious and unna-
tural beauties; it would be charged with frequent
and regular modulations; but cold, graceless,
and inexpreffive. Recourfe would be had to
trills, ftops, ſhakes, and other falfe graces;
which would ferve only to render the fong more
ridiculous, without rendering it lefs infipid.
A mufick attended with fuch fuperfluous or-
nament will be always faint and inexpreffive;
while its images, deftitute of all force and
energy, deſcribe but a few objects in a great
number of notes, exactly like Gothic writing,
the lines of which are full of ftrokes and cha-
racters, yet contain only two or three words,
and but a very fmall quantity of meaning in a
great ſpace of paper.
The impoffibility of inventing agreeable fongs
would oblige the compofers to turn all their
thoughts to the fide of harmony; and for want
of natural beauties, to introduce thoſe of arbi-
trary faſhion, which have no other merit than
lies in the delicacy of the execution. Thus
inſtead of compofing good mufick, they would
compofe difficult mufick; and to fupply the
want of fimple melody would multiply their
accompanyments. It would coft them much
lefs trouble to lay a great many bad things one.
upon another, than to invent one good one.
In order to remove the infipidity, they would
increaſe the confufion; and imagine they were
making muſick when they were only making
a noiſe.
Another effect which would refult from this
defect of melody, is that the muſicians, having
only
FRENCH MUSICK,
67
only a falfe idea of it, would invent a melody
of their own. Having nothing of true mufick,
they would find no difficulty in multiplying
its parts; becauſe they would give that name
to what was not fo; even to the thorough baſs;
to the uniſon of which they would make no
fcruple to recite the counter-tenour, under
cover of a fort of accompanyment, whoſe pre-
tended melody would have no manner of re-
lation to the vocal part of the fong. Where-
ever they faw notes they would find a tune,
although in effect their tune would be nothing
but a fucceffion of notes. Voces, pretereaque
nihil. Let us proceed now to the meaſure, in
the difpofition of which confifts the greater part
of the beauty and expreffion of the fang.
Meaſure is to melody nearly what fyntaxis is.
to diſcourſe: it is that which connects the
words, diftinguiſhes the phraſes, and gives
fenſe and confiftency to the whole. All mu-
fick whoſe meaſure is not perceived, if the fault
lie in the perſon who executes it, reſembles.
writing in cypher, which requires one to have
a key to explain it: but if the mufick have no
fenfible meaſure in itſelf, it is only a confufed
collection of words taken at hazard, and writ-
ten without connection, in which the reader
finds no fenfe becauſe the author gave them
t
none.
I have faid that every national mufick takes
its principal character from the language which
is peculiar to it: and I fhould have added that
it is the profody of that language which prin-
cipally conſtitutes its character. As vocal
mufick long preceded the inſtrumental, the
latter
68
A LETTER ON.
latter hath always received from the former both
its tune and time: now the different meaſures of
vocal muſick could ariſe only from the diffe-
rent methods of fcanning a difcourfe, and
placing the long and fhort fyllables with regard
to each other. This is very evident in the
Greek mufick, whoſe meaſures were only fo
many formula of the Rythmi furnifhed by
the arrangements of long or fhort fyllables,
and of thoſe feet of which the language and
its poetry were ſuſceptible. So that, although
one may very well diftinguifh in the mufical
Rythmus the meaſure of the profody, the mea-
fure of the verfe, and the meaſure of the
tune, it cannot be doubted that the moſt agree-
able mufick, or at leaſt that of the most com-
pleat cadence, would be that in which the three
meaſures ſhould concur as perfectly as pof
fible.
After theſe ecclairciffements, I return to my
hypothefis, and ſuppoſe that the language, I
have been ſpeaking of, fhould have a defective
profody, indiftinct, inexact, and without pre-
cifion; that its long and ſhort fyllables fhould
have no fimple relations with regard to time
or number, fo as to render its rythmus agree-
able, exact and regular; that its long fyllables
fhould be fome fhorter, and others longer than
others; that its fhort ones fhould in like man-
ner be more or lefs fhort; that it fhould have
many neither fhort nor long; and that the dif
ferences between the one and the other ſhould
be indeterminate and almoſt incommenfurable.
It is clear that the national mufick, being ob-
liged to receive into its meaſure the irregula
*
rities
FRENCH MUSICK.
69
rities of the profody, would have ſuch meaſure
of courſe vague, unequal, and hardly percepti-
ble; that its recitative would in particular par-
take of this irregularity; that it would be very
difficult to make the force of the notes and
fyllables agree; that the meaſure would be ob-
liged to be perpetually changed, and that the
verfes never could be ſet to an exact and flow-
ing meaſure that even in the meaſured airs,
the movements would be all unnatural and void.
of precifion; that if to this defect be added
ever fo little delay in time, the very idea of its
inequality would be entirely loft both in the
finger and the auditor; and that, in fine, the
meaſure not being perceived, nor its returns
equal, it could be fubject only to the caprice
of the muſician, who might hurry or retard it
as he pleaſed: fo that it would be impoffible to
keep up a concert without fome body to mark
the time to all, according to the fancy or con-
venience of fome leader.
Hence it is that fingers contract fuch an
habit of altering the time, that they frequently
do it defignedly even in thoſe pieces, where the
compofitor has happily rendered it perceptible.
To mark the time would be thought a fault in
compofition, and to follow it would be another
in the tafte of finging; thus defects would
pafs for beauties, and beauties for defects: er-
rours would be eſtabliſhed as rules; and to
compoſe muſick to the taſte of the nation, it
would be neceffary to apply carefully to thefe
things which would diſpleaſe every other peo-
ple in the world.
Thus, whatever art might be uſed to hide.
the defects of fuch mufick, it would be impof-
fible
70
A LETTER ON
fible it ſhould be pleafing to any other ears than
thoſe of the natives of the country where it
ſhould be in vogue. By dint of fuffering con-
ſtant reproaches against their bad taſte, and by
hearing real mufick in a language more favour-
able to it, they would at length endeavour to
make their own refemble it: in doing which,
however, they would only deprive it of its real
character, and the little accordance it might
have with the language for which it was con-
ftructed. If they fhould thus endeavour to un-
naturalize their finging, they would render it
harfh, rough, and almoſt unutterable: if they
contented themſelves with ornamenting it with
any other than fuch accompanyments as were pe-
culiarly adapted to it, they would only betray its
infipidity by an inevitable contraſt: they would
deprive their mufick of the only beauty it was
fufceptible of, in taking from all its parts that
uniformity of character by which it was con-
ftituted; and, by accuftoming their ears to
difdain the finging only to liften to the fym-
phony, they would in time reduce the voices
only to a mere accompanyment of the accom-
panyments.
Thus we fee by what means the muſick of
fuch a nation would be divided into vocal and
inftrumental; and thus we fee how by giving
fuch different characters to the two fpecies of
it, they make a monftrous compound of them
when united.
The fymphony would keep time; and the
finging would fuffer no reſtraint; ſo that the
fingers and the fymphoniſts in the orcheſtra
would be perpetually at variance, and putting
one another out. This uncertainty, and the
mixture
7
FRENCH MUSICK.
71
A
*
mixture of the two characters, would intro-
duce in the manner of accompanyment, fuch a
tameneſs and infipidity that the fymphoniſts
would get fuch a habit, that they would not be
able even to execute the beſt muſick with ſpirit
and energy. In playing that like their own,
they would totally enervate it; they would play
the foft ftrong and the frong foft, nor would
they know one of the varieties of theſe two
terms. As to the others rinforzando, dolcę
rifoluto, con gufto, ſpiritofo, foſtenuto, con brio,
they would have no words for them in their lan-
guage, and that of expreffion would be totally
void of meaning. They would fubftitute a
number of trifling, cold and flovenly ornaments
in the place of the maſterly ftroke of the bow:
and however numerous their orcheſtra, it would
have no effect, or none but what was very dif-
agreeable. As the execution would be always
fluggiſh, and the fymphoniſts are ever more fo-
licitous to play finely, than to play in time, they
would be hardly ever together; they would
never be able to give an exact and juſt note, nor
to execute any thing in that character. Fo-
reigners would be almoſt all of them aſtoniſhed
to find an orcheſtra, boafted of as the firft in
Europe, hardly worthy to play at a booth in
a fair t. It would be naturally expected that
* There are not perhaps four French fymphonífts
in Paris, who know the difference between piano and
dolce; and indeed it would be unneceffary for them
fo to do; for which of them would be capable of
executing it.
+ Not that there are not fome very good viclin-
players in the orchestra at the opera: on the con-
trary, they are almoſt all fuch, taken feparately,
and when they do not pretend to play in concert.
fuch
72
A LETTER ON
fuch muſicians fhould get an averfion to that
mufick which thus difgraced their own; and
that adding ill will to bad tafte, they would put
in execution the defign of decrying it, with as
ill fuccefs as it was abfurdly premeditated.
On a contrary fuppofition to the foregoing,
I might eaſily deduce all the qualities of a real
mufick, formed to move, to imitate, to pleaſe,
and to convey to the heart the most deli-
cate impreffions of harmony: but as this
would lead me too far from my prefent fub-
ject, and particularly from our generally-re-
ceived notions of things, I fhall confine myſelf
to a few obſervations on the Italian mufick;
which may enable us to form a better judgment
of our own.
If it be aſked what language will admit of the
best grammar, I anſwer that of the people who
reaſon beft; and if it be aſked what nation
fhould have the beft mufick, I fhould anſwer
that whofe language is beft adapted to mufick.
This is what I have already eftabliſhed, and
fhall have farther occafion to confirm it during
the courſe of this letter. Now, if there be in
Europe a language adapted to mufick, it is
certainly the Italian; for that language is foft,
fonorous, harmonious, and more accented than
any other; which four qualities are preciſely
thoſe which are moft proper for finging.
It is foft, becauſe its articulations are fimple,
the collifion of confonants is rare and never
harſh, and becauſe a great number of fyllables,
being formed of vowels only, their frequent
elifions render its pronunciation eaſy and How-
ing. It is fonorous, becaufe moft of its vowels
are clear, becauſe it hath no compound dip-
thongs,
FRENCH MUSICK.
73
thongs, and few or no nafal vowels; and be-
cauſe its articulations are eaſy, and diſtinguiſh
clearly the found of the fyllables; which by
that means, come forth precife and full. With
regard to its harmony, which depends on its
numbers and profody as much as its fimple
founds, the advantage of the Italian language
is manifeft in this particular: for it is to be ob-
ſerved, that what renders a language harmo-
nious and truly pictorefque, depends lefs on
the real force of the words, than on the dif-
tance there is from the foft and the ſtrong be-
tween the founds employed, and on the choice
which might be made of them to defcribe the
images intended.
This premiſed, let thofe,
who think the Italian language adapted only to
objects of delicacy and tenderneſs, take the
trouble to compare the two following ftrophes
from Taffo.
Teneri fdegni, e placide e tranquille
Repulfe, e cari vezzi, e liete paci,
Sorrifi, parolette, e dolce ftille
Di pianto e fofpir, tronchi e molli bacci;
Fufe tai cofé tutte, e pofcia unille,
Et al foce tempro di lente faci;
E ne formo quel fi mirabil cinto
Di ch'ella aveva il bel fianco fuccinto.
Chiama gl'abitator de l'ombre eterne
Il rauco tuon de la tartarea tromba;
Treman le ſpaziofe atre caverne.
E l'aer cieco a quel romor rimbomba;
Ne fi ftridendo mai da le fuperne
Regioni del Cielo il folgor piomba,
Ne fi fcoffa giammai trema la terra
Quando i vapori in ſen gravida feria.
VOL. II. Misc. E
And
74
A LETTER ON
And if they deſpair of rendering into French
the agreeable harmony of the one, let them
endeavour to exprefs the roughneſs and harſh-
nefs of the other.
To judge of thefe, it is not neceffary to
underſtand the language; it requires only a
good ear and a fincere heart. You will obferve
that the harſhneſs of the laft ftrophe is not furd
or inarticulate, but very fonorous, and that it
is hard only with reſpect to the ear, and not
difficult to pronounce; for the tongue can as
eafily articulate the r, whofe repetition renders
the laſt ſtrophe ſo harſh, as the /, which makes
the firſt ſo ſmooth and flowing. In the French
language, on the contrary, whenever we would
give a peculiar hardneſs to our harmony, we are
obliged to amafs together a number of various
confonants that make the articulations difficult
and harſh, which retards the progreſs of the
air, and often obliges the muſick to move
flow, when the words require it to move more
than ordinary quick.
If I were largely to expatiate on this article,
I might poffibly fhew that the tranfpofitions of
words in the Italian language, are much inore
favourable to melody than the didactic order.
of ours; and that the mufical phrafe unfolds
itſelf in a more agreeable and interefting man-
ner, when the fenfe of a paffage, being long
fufpended, is finiſhed by the verb with the ca-
dence at the cloſe, than when the ſenſe is dif-
played as the words go on, thus gradually fa-
tisfying or fating the defire of the mind, while
that of the ear is augmented in a contrary pro-
portion to the end of the paffage. I might alfo
prove that the art of fufpenfion and parenthe-
fis,
FRENCH MUSICK.
75
fis, which the happy conftruction of the lan-
guage renders fo familiar to the Italian mu-
fick, is entirely unknown to ours, and that
we have no other means to fupply its place,
but by filent paufes, which are incompatible
with finging, and which on theſe occafions,
betray rather the poverty of the mufick than
the refources of the mufician,
It remains for me now to treat of accent;
but this important point demands fo profound
a difcuffion, that it would be better to reſerve
it for fome abler hand. I proceed, therefore,
to things more effential to my principal ob-
ject; and fhall endeavour to examine into the
nature of our muſick itſelf.
The Italians pretend that our melody is flat
and void of tune; all other nations alſo unani-
moufly confirm their judgment in this parti-
cular *. On our part, we accuſe theirs of being
capricious and barbarous +. I had much rather
believe that one or the other were miftaken,
than be reduced to the neceffity of ſaying that,
in a country where arts and ſciences in general
* There was a time, fays my Lord Shaftsbury,
when the cuſtom of fpeaking French had brought
French mufick alfo into faſhion among us.
But the
Italian, exhibiting fomething more agreeable to
nature, preſently difgufted us with the other, and
made us perceive it to be as heavy, flat and infipid
as it is in fact.
It ſeems thefe reproaches are much leſs violent
fince the Italian mufick hath been heard among us.
'Thus it is that this admirable mufick, need only
fhew itſelf what it is, to juftify itſelf against every
thing that is advanced against it.
E 2
are
76
A LETTER ON
;
are arrived to an high degree of perfection,
that of mufick is as yet unknown.
*
The leaft partial among us contented them-
felves with faying that, both the Italian and
French mufick were good, in their kind, and
in their own language: but, beſides that other
nations did not fubfcribe to this compariſon, it
ftill remained to determine which of the two
languages was the beft adapted to mufick in
itſelf. This is a queftion which was much
agitated in France, but will never be fo elfe-
where; a queſtion that can only be decided by
an ear that is perfectly neuter, and which of
courfe becomes daily more difficult of folution
in the only country where the object of it can
be problematical. I have made fome experi-
ments on this fubject, which every one may
repeat after me, and which appear to ferve as
a folution of it, at leaft with regard to melody;
to which alone the whole difpute is in a manner
reducible.
I took fome of the most celebrated airs in
both kinds of mufick; and divefting the one
of its trills and perpetual cadences, the other
of the under notes which the compofitor does
not take the trouble to write, but leaves to the
judgment of the finger †, I folfa'd them exact-
ly
* Many perfons condemn the total exclufion
which the connoiffeurs in mufick give, without he-
fitation, to the French mufick. Thefe concilia-
ting moderators would have no excluſive taſte, juſt
as if the love of what is good, muft neceffarily work
fome regard for what is bad.
+ This method was very much in favour of the
French mufick; for the under notes in the Italian,
are
FRENCH MUSICK.
77
ly by note, without any ornament, and without
adding any thing to the ſenſe or connection of the
phrafe. I will not tell you the effect which
the refult of this comparifon had on my own
mind, becauſe I ought to exhibit my reafons,
and not to impofe my authority. I will only
give you an account of the method I took to
determine, fo that, if you think it a good one,
you may take the fame to convince yourſelf.
I must caution you, however, that this expe-
riment requires more precautions than may at
first appear neceffary.
The first and most difficult of all, is to be
impartial, and equitable, in your choice and
judgment. The fecond is that, in order to
make this experiment, it is neceffary for you
to be equally acquainted with both styles; other-
wife that which fhould happen to be moft fa-
miliar, would perpetually prefent itſelf to the
mind, to the prejudice of the other. Nor is
this fecond condition lefs difficult than the first:
for among those who are acquainted with both
kinds of mufick, there is no heſitation of
choice; and it is eaſy to perceive by the ridi-
culous arguments of thoſe who write againſt
are no lefs effential to the melody, than thoſe which
are written down. The point is lefs what is writ-
ten than what ought to be fung; and indeed this
manner of writing notes ought to paſs for a kind of
abbreviation, whereas the cadences and trills in the
French mufick are requifite, if you will, to the
taſte, but are by no means effential to the melody
they are a kind of paint, which ſerves to hide its
deformity without removing it, and which ſerves
only to render it the more ridiculous to the ears of
good judges.
E 3
the
78
A LETTER ON
the Italian muſick, how little knowledge they
have of that, or indeed the art in general.
Add to this, that it is very effential to pro-
ceed in exact time; but I foreſee that this cau-
tion, though fuperfluous in any other country,
would be uſeleſs in this, and that this omiffion.
alone neceffarily carries, with it an incompe-
tency of judgment,
Taking all theſe precautions, the character
of each kind of mufick cannot fail of declaring:
itſelf; when it would be difficult not to clothe
the paffages with thofe ideas which agree with
them; and indeed not to add, at leaſt men-
tally, thofe turns and ornaments, which may
he refuſed them in finging. We should not.
reft the matter, alfo, upon a fingle experiment;
for one air may pleaſe more than another, with-
out determining the preference of the kind of
mufick; nor is it without a great number of
trials that a reaſonable judgment is to be form-
ed. Befides, in taking away the words, we
take away the most important part of the me-
lody, which is expreffion; fo that all that can
be determined, is, whether the modulation be
good, and the tune natural, and beautiful. All
this fhews how difficult it is to take fufficient
precautions against prepoffeffions, and how far
reaſon is neceſſary to qualify us to judge pro-
perly in matters of taſte.
I made another trial, which requires lefs.
precaution, and which will yet appear probably
more decifive. I gave to fome Italian muſicians.
the fineſt airs of Lulli, and to fome French.
ones the ſelect airs of Leo and Pergolefe, and:
1 remarked that, though the latter were very
far from entering into the true taste of thefe
pieces,
•
FRENCH MUSICK.
79
pieces, they were fenfible nevertheleſs of their
melody, and made out of them in their man-
mer agreeable and tuneful paffages. But the
Italians folfa'd our most pathetic airs, without
diſcovering either paffage or tune: they found
no mufick at all in them, but faw only a fuc-
ceffion of notes placed without choice or de-
fign; they fung them indeed exactly as you
would read Arabic words written in French
characters *.
My third experiment was this, I had oppor-
tunity of fecing at Venice, an Armenian, a
man of understanding, who had never before-
heard any mufick; and to whom were exhibit-
ed in the fame concert, a French piece which
began with theſe words,
Temple facrè, fejour tranquille :
and an air of Galuppi's which begins thus ;
Voi che languite ſenza ſperanza ;
Both the one and the other were fung, very in-
differently for a Frenchman, and badly for an
Italian, by a man accustomed folely to French
mufick, and at that time an enthufiaft for
Rameau. I obferved that my Armenian,
during the French fong, expreffed much more
furprize than pleafure; but every body took:
Cur muſicians pretend to deduce a great ad-
vantage from this difference. We can execute the
Italian mufick, ſay they with their ufual vanity, and
the Italians cannot execute ours; therefore our mufick is
better than theirs. They do not fee that they ought:
to deduce a confequence directly contrary; and ſay,.
Therefore the Italians have a melody and we have
none...
E 4
notice
r
80
A LETTER ON
\
notice that his countenance and eyes brighten-
ed up, and that he was inftantly affected with
the very first notes of the Italian. He appeared
indeed enchanted, and gave himſelf up entire-
ly to the impreffions of the mufick; the fimple
founds, for he underſtood hardly any thing of
the language, giving him an evident delight.
From that time he would never liften to a
French air.
But without going abroad for examples, have
not we many perfons among ourſelves; who
being acquainted only with our own operas,
really conceived they had no manner of taſte.
for finging, and were undeceived only by the
Italian interludes. They imagined they did
not love muſick for the very reaſon that proved
they liked only that which was really fuch.
I must confefs that fo many facts made me
doubtful of the exiſtence of French melody;
and raiſed a fufpicion that it was only a kind of
modulated full chorus, that had nothing in it
agreeable of itſelf; pleafing only by the help
of certain adventitious and arbitrary ornaments,
and to fuch only as were prepoffeffed in its fa-
vour. For we find that our mufick is hardly
ſupportable even to our own ears, when it is
executed by indifferent voices, who cannot
make the moſt of it. It requires a Fel and a
Jeliotte to fing French muſick : but every voice
is good for the Italian; becaufe the beauties.
of the latter are in the mufick itſelf, whereas
thofe of the French, if it has any, depend all
on the abilities of the finger *.
There
* It is an errour to imagine that the Italian
fingers have in general, lefs voice than the French:
On
FRENCH MUSICK.
81
There are three things which to me appear
to concur in the perfection of Italian melody.
The first is the fweetnefs of the language;
which, making all its inflexions eafy, leaves
the genius of the muſician at liberty to make a
more exquifite choice, to give a greater variety
to his combinations; and affign to every actor
a particular turn, fo that each may have his
own peculiar manner to diftinguiſh him from
the reft.
The fecond is the boldness of the modula-
tions, which, although leſs fervilely prepared
than ours, are rendered more agreeable in being
rendered more fenfible, and without giving any
harſhneſs to the fong, add a lively energy to
the expreffion. It is by means of this, the
muſician, paffing fuddenly from one key or
mode to another, and fuppreffing when necef-
fary the intermediate and pedantic tranfitions,
is capable of expreffing thoſe reſerves, inter-
On the contrary, it is neceffary that they fhould
have ftronger lungs, and be more harmonious to.
make themſelves heard throughout the fpacious
theatres of Italy, without ftopping to manage the
voice, as the Italian mufick requires. The French
fong requires the utmoft effect of the lungs, and the
whole extent of the voice. Stronger, louder, cry
our finging mafters, fend forth the funds, open the
mouth, give out all your voice. On the other hand,
the Italian maſters ſay, Softer. force nothing, fing eafy ;
It your notes be foft and flowing; referve the loud ex-
ertions for those rare occafions when it is neceffary to ftrike
and ‹ maze. Now, it appears to me that if people
muſt make themſelves heard, thoſe have the ſtrongeſt
voices who can do it, without being under the ne-
ceffity of ſcreaming.
E 5
ruptions
82
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!
ruptions and parentheſes, which are the lane.
guage of the impetuous paffions; and which
the glowing Metaſtaſio, Porpora, Galuppi,
Cocchi, Jumella, Perez, and Terra deglia.
have fo often and fo fuccefs fully employed;
while our lyric poets know juſt as little of them
as our muſicians.
{
The third advantage, and that which gives
to melody its greateft effect, is the extreme ex-
actness of time which is obfervable in the
graveft as well as the livelieft movements: an:
exactneſs which renders the finging animated
and intereſting, the accompanyments lively and
flowing, which really multiplies the tunes, by
making in one combination of founds as many.
different melodies as there are methods of ſcan-
ning them an exactneſs which conveys every.
fentiment to the heart, and every image to the
underſtanding; which furniſhes the mufician,
with the means of giving to words all imagin-
able characters, many of which we have no,
idea of, * and which renders the movements
proper to exprefs all thofe characters t, or a
fingle:
*. Not to depart from the Comic ftile, the only
one known at Paris, I ſhall mention the following
airs, Quando Sc olto avrò il contratto, &c. Iv ò un vis-
pajo, &c. O quefto o quel'o t'ai a riflere, &c. A un gusto
da ftor dire, &c. Stizzofo. mio, Stizzofo, &c I no
una donzella, &c. Quanti maestri, quanti dottori, &c..
Į ſtirri şià lo aſpetano, &c, Ma dunque il teftamenti,
&c. Senti me, fe brami ft re. O che rifa, che piacere,
&c. all characteriſtic airs, of which the French.
mufick hath not the firſt elements, and of which it.
1s incapable of expreffing a fingle word.
+ I ſhall content myſelf with citing only one ex-
ample, which is a very ftriking one, this is the
airr
FRENCH MUSICK.
833
fingle movement proper to contraſt and change›
the character at the pleafure of the compofer..
Such appear to me, the fources from which
the Italian mufick derives its charms and
energy to which may be added, a new and
very strong proof of the advantage of its me
lody, in that it does not require fo often as
ours, thoſe frequent reverfions of harmony,
which give the thorough baſs a real under tune.
Those who find fuch great beauties in the
French melody, would do well to tell us to›
which of theſe two things it is obliged, or to›
thew us the advantages by which they are ſup--
plied.
When one firſt becomes acquainted with the:
Italian melody, it feems to confift altogether
of graces, and one is apt to think it calculat-
ed only to exprefs fentiments that are pleafing.
and agreeable; but when one comes to be a.
little more acquainted with its pathetic andi
tragic character; one is furprized at the force and
energy, which the art of the compoſers beſtow·
on it in their grand pieces of mufick. It is by
the aid of thefe fcientific modulations, of this:
fimple and pure harmony, thefe lively and
brilliant accompanyments, that their divine-
performances enrapture.or harrow up the foul,,
feducing the auditor out of himfelf, and forcing;
from him thoſe external marks of tranſports,
•
•
air Se pur d'un infelice, &c. in the Intriguing Cham- -
bermaid. A very pathetic air to a very lively move-
ment; to which there is only wanting a voice to fing
it, an orcheſtra to accompany it, ears to hear it,,
and the fecond part, which ought by no means to ›
be fuppreffed...
E 60
witlah
1
་
84
A LETTER ON
with which our infipid operas are never ho-
noured.
How is it that the muſician is capable of pro-
ducing theſe great effects? Is it to be done
merely by contrafting the movements, by the
multiplication of concords, notes and parts?
Is it by dint of amaffing defigas on defigns,
or inftruments on inftruments? All this far-
rago, which is a bad ſubſtitute where genius is
wanting, is enough to ftifle inftead of animat-
ing the mufick, and prevent its being intereft-
ing by dividing the attention.
Whatever harmony may ariſe from a number
of parts being well fung together, the effect of
this fine finging would vaniſh the moment the
different parts were heard at the fame time;
there remains a fucceffion of concords, which,
however boafted, is always cold and lifelefs
when it is not animated by melody: in fo much
that the more the feveral parts are huddled to-
gether, the lefs agreeable the mufick; becaufe
it is impoffible that the ear can attend to feveral
melodies at the fame time, while the one ef-
facing the other, the refult of the whole muſt
neceffarily be noife and confufion. In order
that a piece fhould become intereſting, and con-
vey to the foul the fentiments it is intended to
excite, it is requifite that all the parts fhould
concur to ftrengthen the expreffion of the fub-
ject; that the harmony fhould ferve only to
render it more nervous; that the accompany-
ment ſhould embelliſh without hiding or dif-
figuring it; that the bafs fhould, by a fimple
and uniform progreſs, ferve in fome ſhape as a
guide both to the finger and the auditor, with-
out either perceiving it; in a word, it requires
that
FRENCH MUSICK.
85
that the whole fhould convey but one fimple
melody to the ear, and but one idea to the
mind.
This unity of melody appears to me a rule
as indifpenfible, and not lefs important in mu-
fick, as the unity of action in a tragedy; being
founded on the very fame principle, and direct-
ed to the fame object. Thus all good Italian
compoſers conform to it with a degree of foli-
citude that borders on affectation; and if we
reflect ever fo little upon it, we fhall preſently
perceive that it is from this circumftance their
mufick derives its principal effects. It is in
this great rule that we must look for the cauſe
of thofe frequent accompanyments in unifon,
which are remarkable in the Italian mufick,
and which, by ftrengthening the idea of the
tune, render the founds more ſoft and mellow,
and lefs fatiguing for the voice. Theſe unifons
are impracticable in our muſick, unleſs it be in
fome characters of airs felected and purpofely
adapted to them. A pathetic French air would be
inſupportable, if accompanied in this manner;
becauſe our vocal and inftrumental mufick being
characteriſtically different, we cannot without
offending both melody and tafte, apply to one
the fame turns as are proper for the other; not
to reckon that the meaſure being always vague
and indeterminate, particularly in the flower
airs, the inftruments and the voice would never
agree, or proceed fufficiently in concert to pro-
duce an agreeable effect.
Another beauty which reſults from theſe uni-
fons, is that of giving a more fenfible expref-
fion to the melody, fometimes by adding fud-
den
$6
A LETTER ON
den ſtrength to the inftruments on particular
paffages; fometimes by foftening them, and at
others by giving them a bold and animated:
ftroke, which the voice cannot reach, and
which the audience, being thus artfully deceived,.
never fails to impute to it, when the orchestra.
is capable of ſtriking it. out properly. Hence
arifes that perfect coincidence of the ſymphony
with the finging, which occafions all the
ſtrokes that are admired in the one, to be only
developements of the other; fo that it is only
in the vocal part that we are to look for the
fource of all the. beauties of the accompany--
ment.
This accompanyment is fo intimately con-
nected with the finging, and fo exactly appli--
cable to the words, that it ſeems to direct the
play, and to dictate the geftures of the actors *;
fo that fome of them who might not be able
to play their parts merely from the words, will
play them very juftly from the muſick; becauſe:
it acts in the quality of interpreter.
Befides this, it is a great thing that the Ita-
lian accompanyments are always in unifon with:
the voice. There are two cafes indeed pretty
frequent, wherein the mufician feparates them
The one is, when the voice. running lightly
* Numerous examples might be given. from the
interludes that have appeared the prefent year;
among others in the air à un gusto da ſtordire, in the
mufick-mafter; in that of. Son Padrone of the Vain
woman in that of. Vi fto ben in Tracollo; in that.
of tu non penfi no fignora in the Bohemian, and in ale
moſt all thofe which require acting.
·
>
over:
FRENCH MUSICK.
87
over the harmonious chords, fixes the attention.
fo much, that the accompanyment cannot par
take of it: yet even there ſo much fimplicity
is given to this accompanyment that the ear,,
affected only by agreeable concords, does not
perceive any thing in it to divert its attention.
The other cafe requires fomething more to
make it perfectly understood..
When the musician understands his art, fays the
ingenious author of the letter on the deaf and
dumb, the parts of the accompanyment concur to
Strengthen the expreffion of the finger, or to add new
ideas when the fubject requires it, and the finger
cannot give them. This paffage appears to con-
tain a very uſeful. precept; and thus I think
it fhould be understood,
+
If the fong is of ſuch a nature as to require
any additions, or as our old muſicians fay, any
diminutions, which may add to the expreffion
or agreeableneſs without deftroying the unity
of the melody; fo that the ear, which perhaps
would blame thoſe additions if made by the
voice, would approve them, and be agreeably.
affected by them in the accompanyment, with--
out ceafing to be attentive to the finging; in
fuch a caſe the able muſician will, by managing.
them properly, and difpofing them with tafte,
embellifh his fubject, and render it more ex-
preffive without taking from its unity: and:
though the accompany ment may not be exactly
the fame as the part fung, they will both have
the fame tune and the fame melody.
If the ſenſe of the words convey an accef
fory idea, which the tune cannot exprefs, the
muſician will ſupply it in his pauſes or at in
tervals,
88
A LETTER ON
tervals, in ſuch a manner that he will prefent
it to the mind of the auditor, without divert-
ing his attention from the fong. The advan-
tage will be ſtill greater, if this acceffory idea
may be rendered by a forced and thorough ac-
companyment, which fhould make rather a
flight murmur than a real tune, fuch as the
noife of a river or the confufed whiftling of
birds: for then the compoſer may feparate the
fong entirely from the accompanyment; and,
devoting the latter to the acceffory idea,
may diſpoſe it in fuch a manner as to throw
frequent light on the orcheftra, in carefully
obferving that the fymphony fhould always be
directed by the finging part, which depends
more on the art of the compofer, than on the
execution of the inftruments: but this requires
the moſt confummate experience, in order to
avoid a duplicity of melody.
This is all that the obfervation of unity can
furniſh the taste of the muſician with, to or
nament the fong, or render it more expreffive,
whether by embelliſhing the principal fubject,
or by annexing to it any other which may be
fubordinate. But to play in different parts, the
violins on one fide, the flutes on another, and
the baffoons on a third, each with a particular
deſign, and almoft without any relation to each
other, and to call this Chaos of noife, by the
name of muſick, is an equal infult on the ear
and the judgment of the auditors.
Another thing, which is not lefs contrary
to the rule I have laid down than the multipli-
cation of parts, is the abufe or rather the uſe
of fugues, imitations, double defigns, and other
C2-
FRENCH MUSICK.
89
capricious and conventional beauties; which
have no other merit than the difficulty of execu-
tion, and which have been all invented in the
infancy of the art, to give eclat to the ſcholar
during the want of genius. I do not affirm
it to be altogether impoffible to preferve the
unity of melody in a fugue, by artfully lead-
ing the attention of the auditor from one part
to another, in proportion as the ſubject requires :
but this is fo laborious and difficult, that hardly
any perſon is capable of effecting it, and is at
the fame time fo ungrateful a task, that the
fuccefs is no indemnification for the fatigue of
the attempt. All this tending only to make a
noife, like most of our admired chorufes *, is
equally unworthy the pen of a man of ge-
nius, and the attention of a man of tafte.
With regard to counter-fugues, double-fugues,
and other difficult abfurdities which the ear
cannot bear nor reaſon juftify, they are evident-
ly nothing but the remains of barbariſm and
falfe tafte, which fubfift, like the porches of
our Gothic churches, only to reflect difgrace
* The Italians themselves have not altogether
fhaken off this barbarifm. They ftill pique them-
felves on having noiſy mufick in their churches; ce-
lebrating maffes and motets with four choirs, each
on a different defign: but the great mafters fmile
at all this farrago. I remember Terra-deglias,
fpeaking to me one day of feveral motets of his
compofition, in which he had introduced laboured
choruſes, was aſhamed of his having made them fo
grand, and excufed himſelf on account of his
youth. Another time he ſaid to me, " formerly I
loved to make a noife; but at prefent I endeavour
to make mufick."
on
go
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on thoſe who had the patience to confru
them.
There was a time when Italy itſelf was in-
volved in barbarifm; even after the revival of
the other arts in Europe, mufick advanced but
flowly toward that purity of taſte, which it has
acquired in the preſent times; we cannot indeed
give a worſe idea of what it then was than by
obferving that for a long time France and Italy
* had but one fpecies of mufick in common
between them; and that the muſicians of both
countries held a familiar correfpondence toge-
ther; not without betraying however in thoſe
early times the feeds of tha: jealoufy, which is
infeparable from confcious inferiority. Lulli
himſelf, alarmed at the arrival of Corelli, haften-
ed to get him banished from France; which.
was by fo much the more eafy for him to do as
Corelli was by much, the greater man, and of
courſe the lefs of a courtier.
In the times when mufick had but juft ap-
peared in Europe, it had in Italy that ridiculous.
emphaſis of harmonical ſcience, thofe pedantic
* The Abbé du Bos took a world of pains to
compliment the Netherlands on their revival of mu-
fick and with juftice if we may give the name of
mufick to a continual repetition of concords. But
if harmony only be in the common bafs, and melody
conftitute the character of modern mufick, it not
only took rife in Italy, but there are ſome grounds to
think that in all our living languages the Italian
mufick is the only one that hath real exiſtence. In
the times of Orlando and Gondimel there were har-
mony and founds, Lulli added a little cádence ;
but Corelli, Buononcini, Vinci, and Perlogefe were
the first that compofed mufick.
pre
FRENCH MUSICK.
gr
pretenfions to doctrine, which it fo carefully.
preferves at prefent among us, and by which we
ftill diftinguish that methodical muſick, defti-
tute of genius, invention and tafte, which is.
called in Paris written mufick by way of excel-
lence, and which is at beft good. for nothing
but to be written.
I do not deny that, even fince the Italians-
have arrived at a great degree of perfection in
the fimplicity and purity of their melody, there
remain ſtill among them, fome flight traces of
fugues and other gothic defigns; and even fome-
times of double and treble melodies. I might
cite feveral examples of this, from interludes
well known, and among others that wretched
piece at the end of the vain woman. But thefe
things are foreign to the prefent eſtabliſhed cha-
racter of the Italian mufick; we find none of
them in their tragic pieces; and it would be
as unjust to judge of the Italian opera from
their farces, as it would be to judge of our
French theatre from the Impromptu de campagne
or the Baron de la Craffe.
Of all the parts of mufick the moſt difficult
to treat without departing from the unity of the
melody is the Duo; an article which merits a
moment's attention. The author of the Letter
on Omphale has already remarked that the Duo
is out of nature: for nothing is leſs natural
than to fee two perfons fpeaking together for
a certain time, either faying the fame thing or
contradicting each other, without attending.
or replying to what is faid. And fhould this
fuppofition be admitted in fome particular cafes,
it is very certain that it can never be in tras
gedy 3
92
A LETTER ON
gedy; where fuch indecorum is neither agree-
able to the dignity of the perfonages who are
fpeaking, nor to the education they must be
ſuppoſed to have received. Now the beſt way
to avoid this abfurdity, is to convert the duo
as much as poffible into dialogue, and this firſt
regards the poet. The muſician's province is to
find a tune fuitable to the ſubject, and diſtribut-
ed in fuch a manner, that, each of the inter-
locutors ſpeaking alternately, the whole fuccef-
fion of the dialogue will form only one fimple
melody; which, without changing the fubject
or at leaft without varying the movement,
ſhould pass from one part to the other, with-
out ceafing to be the fame and without collifion.
When the two parts are joined together, which
they fhould be but very feldom and never long to-
gether, it is neceffary to fix on a tune capable of
moving by thirds or fixths, in which the fecond
part may have its effect without diverting the ear
from the firft. The harfhnefs of difcords, and
the piercing of reiterated tones, the fortiffimo
of the orchestra, fhould be referved for thoſe
moments of diſorder and tranſport, in which
the actors feeming to forget themſelves, com-
municate their raptures to the foul of the ſuf-
ceptible fpectator; caufing them to experience
the power of harmony properly managed. But
theſe moments ought to be rare and introduced
with great art. It is requifite that the ear and
the heart ſhould be previously difpofed by foft
and affecting mufick, in order to their readily
entering into theſe violent emotions; and it is
as requifite that they fhould pafs with a rapi-
dity equal to our weakneſs; for when the agi-
tation
FRENCH MUSICK.
93
tation is too ſtrong, it cannot laſt, and every
thing that goes beyond nature is no longer af-
fecting.
In faying what the Duos ought to be, I have
only ſaid exactly what they are in the Italian
operas. If any perfon can hear a tragic duo
fung by two good Italian actors, and accom-
panied by a good orchestra, without being af-
fected; if, for inftance, he can liften without
tears to the affectionate parting of Mandane
and Arbaces; I look upon him to be worthy of
weeping at that of Lybia and Epaphus.
But, without inſiſting on tragic duos, a kind
of mufick of which we have not even the idea
at Paris, I could cite a comic duo known to
every body, and I will cite it boldly, as a mo-
del of finging, of unity of melody, of dialogue
and of tafte; to which nothing would in my
opinion be wanting, if well executed, but
hearers of fufficient judgment to comprehend its
beauties. This is the duo in the first act of
La Serva Padrona beginning Lo conofco a queql'
occhiati, &c. 1 acknowledge that there are few
French muficians capable of feeling all the
beauties of this piece, and readily fay of Per-
goleſe, as Cicero did of Homer, a man muſt
have made a confiderable progrefs in his art to
be pleaſed with reading him.
I hope, Sir, you will excufe the length of
this article, on account of its novelty, and
the importance of its fubject. I thought it my
duty to expatiate a little on fo effential a rule as
that of the unity of melody; a rule of which
no theoriſt that I know of, hath as yet treated;
which the Italian compoſers alone have felt and
practifed, poffibly without ever enquiring into
2
its
04
A LETTER ON
its exiſtence; and on which depend the ſweet-
nefs of the tune, the force of the expreffion,
and almoſt all the beauty of good mufick. Be-
fore I quit the fubject, however, it remains for
me to fhew you fome new advantages that re-
fult from it even to harmony itſelf, at the ex->
pence of which I feemed to give up every ad-
vantage to melody; and that the expreffion of
the tune gives room for that of the concords,
in obliging the compoſer to an artful manage-
ment of them.
You must remember, Sir, to have heard, in
the interludes we had prefented laft year, the
fon of the Italian manager, a boy about ten
years of age, fometimes accompany the opera.
We were ftruck the firft day with the effect
produced by his little fingers on the accompany-
ment of the harpfichord; the whole piece ap-
pearing more exact and brilliant than when ac-
companied by the ufual player.
I immediately enquired into the reaſon of
this difference; for I doubted not that the Sieur
Noblet was a good harmoniſt, and accompanied
very exactly but gueſs my furprize, in ob-
ſerving the hands of this little muſician, to fee
that he never filled the accords, but fuppreffed
a number of founds, and very often employed
only two fingers, one of which was almoſt al-
ways on the octave of the bafs. How is this?
thought I, can a compleat piece of harmony
have less effect than one that is mutilated?
Our other players in giving all the founds make
only a confufed noife while this with fewer
founds makes more harmony; or at leaſt ren-
ders the accompanyment more fenfible and
agreeable. This was to me a perplexing pro-
blem;
I
FRENCH MUSICK.
95
blem; and I comprehended the importance of it
ftill better, when after ſeveral obfervations I
faw the Italians all played in the fame manner
as little Bambin, and that this paucity of founds
in their accompanyment muft depend on the
fame principle as that which they affected in
their divifions.
I very well comprehended that the bafs, being
the foundation of all harmony, ought to pre-
vail over the reſt, and that, when it is fuppref-
fed or covered by the other parts, it caufes a
confufion that renders the harmony lefs clear and
diftinct. Hence I accounted for the Italians
being fo fparing of the motion of the right
hand, and having their left fo long and fo fre-
quently on the octave of the bafs; for their
having fo many double baffes in their orchef-
tras; and for their fo often playing their fifths *
with the baſs, inſtead of giving them another
part, which the French never fail to do. But
although this accounts for the accuracy of the
confonance, it does not account for its energy
and I preſently faw that there muſt be ſome
more fecret and delicate principle for that ex-
preffion, which I remarked in the fimplicity of
the Italian harmony; while I found ours fo
complicated, cold and enervate.
* It is worth remarking to the orcheſtra of our
opera, that in the Italian mufick, the fifths feldom
play their part, when it is in the octave of the bafs ;
though perhaps ours will difdain to copy the Italians
in this particular. But can thofe who conduct thẹ
orcheſtra be ignorant that this defect of connection
between the bafs and the higher parts renders the
harmony too dry and hard?
I then
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I then recollected that I had fomewhere read,
in a work of Rameau's, that each confonance
had its particular character; that is to fay, a
manner of affecting the foul peculiar to itſelf;
that thus the effect of a third is not the fame
as that of a fifth; nor the effect of a fourth-
the fame with that of a fixth. In the fame
manner, the thirds and fixths minor affect us
differently from the thirds and fixths major;
which facts being admitted, it follows that the
diffonances and all poffible intervals are alfo in
the fame caſe. This is confirmed both by rea-
fon and experience, for, whenever the relations
are different, the impreffion cannot be the
fame.
Now, in reaſoning from this fuppofition, I
thought I ſaw clearly that even two confonances
added together improperly, although agreeable
to the rules of harmony, might even in aug-
menting that harmony, mutually weaken, op-
pofe or divide each other's effects. If the whole
effect of a fifth is neceffary for the expreffion
I have occafion for, I fhould certainly riſk the
weakening that expreffion by a third found,
which dividing that fifth into two other inter-
vals, would neceffarily modify its effect by that
of two thirds into which I had refolved it:
while even thefe thirds, though all together
making a very good harmony, yet being of a
different fpecies, they might reciprocally injure
the expreffion of each other. In like manner,
if the fimultaneous impreffion of a fifth and two
thirds be neceſſary, I fhould weaken and alter
that impreffion very improperly, by taking
away one of the three founds forming the con-
fonance. The force of this reaſoning becomes
more
FRENCH MUSICK.
97
more fenfible when applied to diffonance. Let
us fuppofe, that I want all the hardneſs of the
tritone, or all the infipidity of a falſe fifth;
an oppofition, by the way, which fhews how
far different inverfions may change the effect:
if, in fuch a circumftance, I fay, inftead of
conveying to the car the two fingle founds
which form the diffonance, I fhould take it in
my head to join all thoſe which would agree
with them, I ſhould add to the tritone a ſecond
and a fixth, and to the falfe fifth a fixth and a
third that is, by introducing a new diflonance,
I ſhould at the fame time introduce three con-
fonances, which would naturally tend to me-
liorate and weaken the effect, in rendering one
of the accords lefs fharp, and the other leſs flat.
It is therefore a certain principle, founded in
nature, that all mufick, in which the harmony
is fcrupulouſly full and the accompanyments or
all the accords compleat, muft make a great
deal of noiſe, but will have very little expref-
fion. This is exactly characteriflic of the
French mufick.
:
It is true, that in the management of the
accords and the parts, the choice is very diffi-
cult, and requires great experience and tafte to
diſpoſe them always properly; but if there be
any rule to affift the compoſer on fuch an oc-
cafion, it is certainly that of the unity of me-
lody, which I have endeavoured to eſtabliſh;
and which is perfectly agreeable to the character
of the Italian mufick, and accounts for the
ſweetneſs of their finging, as well as the force
of its expreffion.
It follows from all this, that, after having well
ftudied the elementary rules of harmony, the
VOL. II. MISC.
F
mu-
98
A LETTER ON
muſician ought not to be inconfiderately pro-
digal of it; nor think himſelf a mafter of com-
poſition, becauſe he knows how to fill up the
accords. On the contrary, before he fits down
to compofe, he ought to apply himſelf to the
`more tedious and difficult ftudy of the different
impreffions which the confonances, diffonances
and all the accords make on a good ear; and
ſhould often reflect that the great art of a com-
pofer confifts rather in knowing what founds
may properly be fuppreffed than thoſe which
fhould be exerted.
It is by a conftant ftudy of the mafter-pieces
of Italy that he only can acquire this exquifite
choice, if nature hath given him taſte and ge-
nius enough to perceive the neceffity of it: for
the difficulties of the art appear only to fuch as
are formed to furmount them; and theſe never
looking with contempt on the void ſpaces of a
part; but, feeing the facility with which
a ſcholar may fill them up, are led to inveſti-
gate the reafons of that deceitful fimplicity,
which is by fo much the more admirable, as
it hides thoſe prodigies under an apparent neg-
ligence, and as the arte che tutto fa, nulla fi
Scuopre.
Such appears to me the cauſe of the ſurpriz-
ing effects produced by the harmony of the Ita-
lian mufick, although much lefs charged than
ours, which produces hardly any effects worth
notice. It is of much lefs fignification that
the harmony fhould be full, than that it fhould
be filled with taſte and diſcernment. Not that
it is neceffary for a muſician to be able to make
all theſe reflections, in order to determine his
choice it is enough that he is fenfible of their
refult.
FRENCH MUSICK.
99
refult. Men of tafte and genius will difcover
theſe things by their effects; it belongs to a
philofopher only to inveſtigate the reaſons why
fuch things produce thoſe effects.
}
If caft an
you an eye over our modern compo-
fitions, and particularly if you hear them play-
ed, you will preſently acknowledge that our
muficians have fo little comprehended this mat-
ter, that they have taken a method totally con-
trary, to arrive at the fame end and if I may
venture to ſpeak my opinion ingenuouſly, I find
that the greater advances our mufick makes to-
ward apparent perfection, it grows in fact the
worfe.
:
It was perhaps neceffary for it to reach its
preſent ſtate, to accuftom our ears infenfibly
to reject the prejudices of habit, and to get a
tafte for other airs than thoſe with which our
nurſes uſed to fing us to fleep; but I forefee
that, in order to bring it even to that degree of
mediocrity it is capable of, we must go back
and take it up again in that ſtate wherein it was
left by Lulli. It must be admitted that the
harmony of that celebrated mufician is more
perfect; that his bafe is more natural and
flowing; that his ſubject is better purſued; that
his accompanyments being lefs charged, rife
more naturally, and vary lefs from the fubject;
that his recitative is lefs affected, and of courſe
much better than ours. This is confirmed by
the taſte of the execution: for the ancient re-
citative was fung by the actors of thofe times,
in a very different manner from what it is at
prefent. It was more lively and lefs drawl-
ing; the actors fung lefs and declaimed
F 2
more.
•
Um
100
A LETTER ON
more *. The cadences and trills are multi
plied in ours; fo that it is become feeble and
languiſhing, and has hardly any thing to diftin-
guiſh it from what we are pleaſed to call air.
As I am fa'len now on the ſubject of air
and recitative, you will permit me, Sir, to fi-
niſh this letter by fome obfervations on both the
one and the other; which may perhaps afford
fome uſeful ecclairciffements toward the folution
of the problem in queſtion.
One may judge of the idea, our muſicians
have of the conftruction of an opera, by the
fingularity of their vocabulary. Thofe grand
pieces of Italian mufick which raviſh and de-
light the foul, thofe mafter-pieces of genius
which draw forth our tears, defcribing the moſt
lively images, and exhibiting the moſt inte
refting fituations, at once filling the ſoul with all
the paffions they exprefs; theſe the French call
Ariettes. At the fame time, they give the name
of airs to thofe little infipid catches, which they
mix with the ſcenes of the opera; referving the
foliloquies by way of excellence to thofe drawl-
ing and tireſome lamentations, which would
not fail to fet the whole audience afleep, if they
were fung without ſcreaming.
In the Italian operas, all the airs ariſe out of
the circumſtances of the fcene, and make part
We have a proof of this in the time of the re-
prefentation of the operas of Lulli; which is much
longer now than formerly, according to the relation
of thoſe who remember to have ſeen them a great
many years ago. Hence it is, that every time they
are revived, they are obliged to be confiderably
mutilated.
of
FRENCH MUSICK.
101
Sometimes we hear an
of the buſineſs of it.
enraged father, who imagines he fees the ghoſt
of a fon, whom he hath unjustly put to death,
come to upbraid him with his cruelty; fometimes
it is a mild and benevolent prince, who, com-
pelled to do an act of feverity, begs of the
gods to deprive him of his crown and empire;
or to give him an heart lefs fufceptible of the
feelings of humanity. Here we have a tender
mother bathed in tears of joy, on the re-
covery of a fon who was fuppofed to be dead.
There we hear the language of impaffioned
lovers; not indeed ftuffed with infipid and pu-
erile conceits of flames and darts and chains
but tragical, fpirited, interrupted and ardent,
fuch as is conformable to the expreffion of im-
petuous paffions. It is worth while on fuch
language to beſtow all the riches of a muſick
full of force and expreffion, and to enhance
the energy of the poetry by that of the har-
mony.
The words of our Ariettes, on the contrary,
always detached from the buſineſs of the fcene,
are only a miferable jargon, which one is ge-
nerally happy in not being able to hear plain
enough to underſtand. They are in fhort only
a collection of a ſmall number of the moſt fo-
norous words in our language, thrown toge-
ther by chance, turned and twiſted about into
all manner of forms, except that in which they
might be jumbled into a meaning. It is on
theſe impertinent trifles that our muſicians ex-
hauſt their tafte and knowledge, and our actors
waſte their geſtures and lungs; it is at fuch ex-
travagant pieces as thefe that our women of
faſhion affect to die away with admiration and
F 3
extafy.
102
A LETTER ON
extafy. A proof indeed the moft convincing,
that the French mufick is incapable of expref-
fion or deſcription, is that it cannot difplay the
few beauties of which it is fufceptible, except
on words that have no meaning.
And yet to hear the French people ſpeak of
their muſick, one would imagine it was in their
operas that the grand images and paffions were
exhibited, and that Ariettes were to be found
only in the Italian operas; in which the very
name of Ariette, and the ridiculous thing it
fèrves to exprefs, are equally unknown.
We are not to be furprized, however, at the
groffneſs of this prepoffeffion: the Italian mu-
fick hath no enemies even in France, except
among thoſe who know nothing of the matter.
Every one of thoſe who have applied themſelves.
to the ſtudy of it, even with a profeffed view
to cenfure it, having preſently become its moſt
zealous admirers +.
Next to the Ariettes, which conftitute the
triumph of modern tafte at Paris, come the fa-
mous foliloquies which are fo much admired in
the old operas. On this fubject, it is to be re-
marked, that our fineft airs are all foliloquies,
and this becauſe our actors having no dumb
fhew, and the mufick indicating no gefture,
nor defcribing any fituation, the perſon who is
filent must be at a loss what to do with himſelf,
while the other is finging.
It is not in favour of the French mufick, that
thoſe who defpife it are fuch as are beft acquainted
with it; for it is as ridiculous on examination, as it
is intolerable to the ear.
The
FRENCH MUSICK.
103
The drawling nature of our language, the
little flexibility of our voices, and the lamen-
table tone which prevails perpetually in our
operas, occafion almoſt all our foliloquies to be
fet to a flow movement; and as the meaſure is
neither perceived in the finging, in the baſs,
nor in the accompanyment: nothing can be
more heavy, drawling and tedious than thoſe
fine foliloquies, which every body affects to fing
and admire. They should be mournful, but
are only tireſome, they fhould affect the heart,
but they only hurt the ear. The Italians are
more dexterous in the management of their
Adagio; for when the time is fo flow that there
is any danger of weakening the ſenſe of the mea-
fure, they make their bass proceed by equal
notes, which mark the movement; while the
accompanyment is marked alfo by fubdivifions
of the notes; which keeping the voice and ear
in tune, render the whole more agreeable and
particularly nervous from fuch precifion. But
the nature of the French finging takes away
even this refource from our compofers: for
when the actor is obliged to keep time, he can
no longer difplay his voice and action, dwell
on his notes, fwell and lengthen them at plea-
fure, nor fcream till he ftuns you, and of courſe
cannot be applauded.
But what ftill more efficaciouſly prevent a
tireſome monotony in the Italian tragedies, is
the advantage they have of expreffing all their
fentiments, and defcribing all their characters
in fuch a meaſure and movement as is moft
agreeable to the compofer. As to our melody,
which is in itſelf totally inexpreffive, it derives
all its expreffion from the movement which is
given
F 4
104
A LETTER ON.
given it; in a flow meaſure it is fad and lamen-
table; in a lively meaſure it is gay or furious,
and in a moderate meaſure grave and folemn.
The tune is hardly of any effect; the meaſure
alone, or to fpeak more properly, the degree
of time determines its character. But the Ita-
lian mufick poffeffes in every movement expref-
fions for all characters, and pictures for all ob-
jects. If the muſician pleaſes, it is forrowful
with a brifk movement, and gay with a flow
one; changing its character, as I have already
obferved, on any movement, at the pleafure of
the compoſer. This gives him a greater faci-
lity in contriving his contrafts, without depend-
ing altogether on the poet, or expofing himſelf
to inconfiftencies.
Such is the fource of that prodigious variety,
which the great mafters of Italy have difplayed
in their operas, without ever departing from
nature: a variety which prevents all monotony,
languor and tediouſneſs; and which the French
muficians cannot imitate, becauſe their move-
ments are preſcribed by the ſenſe of the words,
and they cannot depart from them without run-
ning the risk of falling into ridiculous incon-
fiftencies. With refpect to recitative, which
it remains for me to ſpeak of; it appears necef-
fary, in order to form a right judgment of it,
to know firſt precifely what it is: for hitherto,
I know not that any of thoſe who have difputed
about it, have ever thought of defining it.
I know not, Sir, what idea you may have
annexed to that word; for my part, I call re-
citative an harmonious declamation; that is to
fay, a declamation whofe inflexions are made
by harmonic intervals. Hence it follows, that
as
FRENCH MUSICK.
105
as every language has a declamation peculiar to
itſelf, fo it ought to have a peculiar recitative :
not that this prevents our making a very proper
compariſon between one recitative and another,
in order to fee which is the better of the two,
or which is beft adapted to the ſubject.
The recitative is neceffary in lyric dramas,
ift, In order to connect the action, and pre-
ferve the unity of the piece. 2dly, To fet off
the airs, the continuance of which would be
infupportable. 3dly, To expreſs a multitude
of things, which cannot or ought not to be
expreffed by mufical tunes.
Simple declamation cannot agree with all
this in a lyric performance, becauſe the tranfi-
tion from ſpeaking to finging, and in particular
from finging to ſpeaking, is too great not to be
offenfive to the ear; it forms a contraſt alſo,
which deſtroys the illufion, and confequently
renders it unintereſting, for there is a kind of
probability to be obſerved even in an opera, by
rendering the converfation fo uniform, that the
whole may be taken at leaft for an hypotheti-
cal language.
Add to this, that the affiftance of the accords
increaſes the energy of harmonious declama-
tion, and advantageously makes up for what
is lefs natural in the founds. It is evident, ac-
cording to theſe notions, that the beſt recita-
tive in any language whatever, if it hath the
other requifites, is that which comes the near-
eft to ſpeaking. And if any one ſhould be
found which approached it fo nearly as to be
taken for fimple declamation, and yet, at the
fame time, preſerve its proper harmony, we
might boldly pronounce that fuch recitative
F 5
was
106
A LETTER ON
was carried to the higheſt perfection of which
it is capable.
Let us examine now, according to this rule,
what is called recitative in France; and then,
pray, tell me what relation you find between
fuch recitative and our declamation?
How can
you ever conceive that the French language,
whofe accent is fo very fimple, fo plain, fo
void of tune, can be properly expreffed in the
noify and ſcreaming founds of our recitative?
How can you ftill lefs imagine there is any re-
lation between the foft inflexions of our fpeech,
and thoſe loud and fwelling founds, or rather
thoſe perpetual fcreams, which form the noiſy
compound of that part of our muſick, which
we call airs? Defire any perfon, who knows
how to read, to recite, for example, the
four firſt verſes of the famous foliloquy of
Iphigenia. You will difcover only fome flight
inequalities, fome feeble inflexions of voice in
a tranquil recital, that hath nothing lively or
paffionate, nothing that ſhould engage the rea-
der to raiſe or lower the voice. Let one of our
actreffes recite afterwards the fame words after
the notes of the muſician, and try, if you can,
to fupport her extravagant fcreaming; while
The runs up and down every moment through
the whole extent of her voice, and fufpends
the recital moſt abfurdly to wire-draw the fine
tones on fyllables that have no meaning, and
form no ſtop in the fenfe.
Add to this, the trills, fhakes, &c. that oc-
cur every moment, and then tell me what ana-
logy there is between the words and all this
tawdry frippery of founds; between true de-
clamation and this pretended recitative. I ſhould
bé
FRENCH MUSICK.
107
be glad at leaſt to know on what grounds can
be founded any reaſonable boaſt of that marvel-
lous French recitative whofe invention is the
glory of Lulli.
It is indeed pleaſant enough to ſee the parti-
zans for French mufick retrench themſelves be-
hind the character of their language, and
throw the defects upon that which they dare
not impute to their idol, while nothing is more
evident than that the recitative which would
beft fuit the French tongue, is diametrically
oppoſite to that which is in prefent ufe. It is
plain, it ought to move by very fmall intervals; .
that there fhould be little elevation and finking
of voice, few continued founds, never any
roaring, much lefs fcreaming; nothing in par-
ticular that reſembles tune, and a very ſmall
inequality in the length or ftrength or height
of the notes. In a word, true French recita-
tive, if it were poffible to have one, is to be
acquired only by taking a route directly con-
trary to that of Lulli and his fucceffors: a
route which our French compoſers, ſo vain of
their falſe knowledge, and fo far from having
a taſte for the true, will not foon attempt, and
probably never will diſcover.
¡
I might here fhew you by examples, from
the Italian recitative, that all the conditions,
which I have fuppofed neceffary to conſtitute a
good one, are to be found in that alone. That
it poffeffes at once all the vivacity of decla-
mation, and all the energy of harmony; that
it may proceed as faft as fimple fpeaking, and
be as melodious as finging; that it may mark
all the inflexions, with which the moſt vehe-
F 6
ment
1
108
A LETTER ON
ment paffions animate difcourfe, without forc-
ing the voice of the finger, or ftunning the ears
of the auditor.
I might fhew you how, by the aid of a par-
ticular fundamental progrefs, the modulations
of the recitative may be multiplied in a manner
peculiar to itſelf, and which contributes to dif-
tinguifh the airs; in which it is neceffary, to
preſerve the graces of the melody, to change
the tone lefs frequently: I might fhew you,
in particular, how, in order to give a paffion
time to diſplay all its emotions, the orcheſtra
might be made, by the help of a fymphony
artfully managed, to exprefs by varied and pa-
thetic tunes, what the actor cannot poffibly
recite; a maſter-ftroke in the art of compofing;
by which the muſician may join, in a forced
recitative †, the most affecting melody to all
the vehemence of declamation, without con-
founding either the one or the other.
I might indeed difplay to you innumerable
beauties that are to be found in this admirable
recitative; of which in France are told as many
abſurd ſtories, as it occafions falſe cenfures; as
if any perfon could take upon them to pro-
nounce the recitative good or bad, without
perfectly underſtanding the language peculiar
to it.
+ I was in hopes. the Sieur Caffarelli would have
given us at the concert Spirituel, fome pieces of the
grand recitative and pathetic air, to let our pre-
tended connoiffeurs for once hear what they have fo
long taken upon them to judge of; but his reafons
for declining it, convince me that he is a better judge
of the capacity of his audience than I am.
But
FRENCH MUSICK.
109
But in order to enter minutely into thefe par-
ticulars, it would be neceffary for me in a man-
ner to form a new dictionary, and to be perpe-
tually inventing new terms to exhibit to the
French reader thofe ideas which are at preſent
fo little known to them, that my whole dif-
courſe would be unintelligible. To be under-
ftood, it is requifite to ſpeak the language they
underſtand, and of courſe the language of all
other arts and fciences, except that of mufick.
I fhall not deſcend therefore to treat this ſub-
-
ject fo circumftantially, as it would convey no
inftruction to the reader, and might give them
reaſon to preſume I owed the apparent validity
of my arguments to their ignorance of them.
It is for the fame reafon, I fhall not attempt to
draw the parallel, propofed this winter in a
paper addreffed to the little prophet and his ad-
verſaries, between the two pieces of Italian and
French mufick therein mentioned. The Ita
lian piece, undiſtinguiſhed in Italy among a thou-
fand others equally, or more mafterly, is fo
little known at Paris, that few perfons can pur-
fue the compariſon; and I fhould only write.
for thofe few who are already informed of what
I ſhould tell them. But, with regard to the
French piece, I will make a fhort analyſis of
it with the greater pleafure, as it is a perfor-
mance confecrated by the unanimous fuffrages
of the whole nation, and I need be under no
apprehenfion of being charged with partiality
in making it my choice; or of wanting to
miflead the judgment of my readers by means
of a fubject little known.
As I cannot alfo enter into an examination
of this performance, without adopting the
fpecies
1
110
A LETTER ON
་་
fpecies of mufick, at leaſt hypothetically; I
ſhall in this give the French mufick all the ad-
vantage which reaſon will oblige me to deprive
it of in the courſe of this letter. I muft judge
of it according to its own rules; fo that ſhould
the piece be as perfect as it is pretended, no-
thing more can be concluded from it, than
that it is a good piece of French mufick;
which will not hinder us from juftly conclud-
ing, if the fpecies be in itſelf demonſtrated
bad, that it is abfolutely a bad piece of mufick.
Admitting however for the prefent, that the
Species be good, I proceed to enquire only
whether the piece in queftion be good in its
kind.
To do this, I fhall endeavour to analyze in
few words the celebrated foliloquy of Armida ;
beginning with Enfin il eft en ma puissance;
which paffes for a maſter-piece of declamation,
and which our greateſt maſters themſelves fix
upon as the moſt perfect model of French re-
citative.
I fhall, in the first place, obferve that M.
Rameau hath cited it very juftly as an example
of exact and well connected modulation: but
this encomium applied to the piece in queftion,
is really a fatire; and M. Rameau would him-
felf be very cautious of meriting a fimilar elo-
gium in the like circumftances: for what can
be conceived fo improper as this fcholaftic re-
gularity in a ſcene, wherein the contraſt of ſuch
oppofite paffions as rage and tenderneſs, put the
actreſs and audience in the moft lively agitation?
Armida comes on in a fury to ftab her enemy.
At fight of him, fhe heſitates, fhe is affected
with tenderneſs, and the dagger falls from her
hands:
FRENCH MUSICK.
IIF
hands: fhe forgets all her defigns of vengeance;
but never once forgets, though for a moment,
the regularity of her modulation.
The re-
ferves, the interruptions, the intellectual tran-
fitions with which the poet furniſhes the mufi-
cian, are never once laid hold of by the
latter.
The heroine ends her fpeech with adoring
him, whom ſhe was going to affaffinate in the
beginning of it; the mufician ends E fi mi,
as he begun; without ever having once infert-
ed in the declamation of the actrefs, the leaft
inflexion which might give credit to the agita-
tion of her mind; and without giving the leaſt
expreffion to the harmony throughout the
whole. I will even defy any perfon whatever,
to find by the mufick alone, either from the
tune, the melody, the declamation, or the ac-
companyment, any fenfible difference between
the beginning and the end of the ſcene, by
which the reader can poffibly judge of the pro-
digious change that is worked on the heart of
Armida.
Obferve alfo the thorough bafs: what a num-
ber of crotchets! How many little trifling
notes, to run after the harmonic fucceffion. Is
this the movement of the bafs of a good reci-
tative; in which we should hear only the full
notes, here and there, as feldom as poffible,
and only to prevent the voice of the ſpeaker,
and the ear of the auditor from wandering.
But let us ſee how the fine verfes of this fo-
liloquy are fet, which may paſs in fact for a
mafter-piece in poetry,
Enfin
112
A LETTER ON
Enfin il eft en ma puiffance,
Here we have a trill, and what is worfe, an
abfolute reſt on the firſt verſe, whereas the ſenſe
is not finiſhed till we come to the fecond. I
confeſs that the poet had poffibly done better to
have omitted the fecond verfe, and have left to
the ſpectators, the pleaſure of reading it in the
looks of the actress. But fince he hath em-
ployed it, it was the bufinefs of the mufician
to fet it.
Ce fatal ennemi, ce fuperbe vainqueur !
I fhould perhaps have pardoned the compofer
for having fet the ſecond verfe in a different
manner from the firft, if he had taken that li-
berty more frequently on more neceflary oc-
cafions.
Le charme du fommeil le livre a mà ven-
geance,
The words charme and fommeil lay always an
inevitable fnare for the compofer; he hath here
forgotten the fury of Armida, to take a little
nap; from which he is to wake at the word
percer. If you imagine that he hath employed
the foft founds in the firft hemiftich by acci-
dent, you need only liften to the bafs to be
convinced of the contrary. Lulli was not a
man that uſed the diefis for nothing.
Je vais percer fon invincible cœur.
The cadence at the end, is ridiculous in fo
impetuous a movement. How cold and grace-
lefs
FRENCH MUSICK.
113
lefs is that trill? How vilely placed on a ſhort
fyllable, in the middle of a recitative that
ſhould have flown with rapidity, in the midſt
of fuch a violent paffion.
Par lui tout mes captifs font fortis d'efclavage :
Qu'il éprouve toute ma rage.
We ſee here is a very artful reſerve of the
poet. Armida, after having declared fhe would
pierce the heart of Renaut, perceives in her
own the firft emotions of pity, or rather of
love. She feeks for reaſons to confirm her in
her refolution; and this intellectual tranfition.
properly introduces theſe two verfes; which
otherwife would ill agree with the preceeding,
and would have been altogether fuperfluous, as
relating what could be no fecret either to the
actreſs or the ſpectators. Let us now ſee how
the muſician has expreffed theſe ſecret emotions
of the heart of Armida. He faw, indeed,
that there muſt neceffarily be fome interval be-
tween theſe two verfes and the preceeding; and
therefore hath made a filent reſt, which he hath
filled up with no accompanyment, though
during the moment in which Armida had fo much
to feel, and which of courfe the orcheſtra ſhould
have expreffed. After this pauſe, he begins
exactly in the fame key, on the fame accord,
and on the very note, with which he left off;
paffing fucceffively through all the founds of
the accord during a whole meaſure, and quit-
ting it at length with difficulty, and at a time
when it was no longer neceffary.
Quel trouble me faifit? Qui me fait hefiter?
Another filent paufe and that's all. This verfe
is
114
A LETTER ON
is fet in the fame key, and almoſt in the fame
accord as the preceeding. Not any alteration
which may indicate the prodigious change
which hath happened in the difcourfe, and the
mind of Armida. The tones, indeed, become
fomething ftronger by the movement of the
bafs: but good God! is this enough at a time
when all the harmony fhould be interrupted,
and every thing fhould defcribe agitation and
diforder. Befides a flight alteration only in the
bafs, although it may give an additional ener-
gy to the inflexions of the voice, it cannot
fupply the total want of them. In repeating
theſe verſes, the heart, the eyes, the counte-
nance, the gefture of Armida; every thing is
changed except the voice; fhe fpeaks often in-
deed, but always in the fame note.
Qu'eft ce qu'en fa faveur la pitié me veut dire?
Frappons.
As this verſe may be taken in two different
fenfes, I fhall not cavil at Lulli, for not have
ing preferred that which I chufe to give them.
It is, nevertheleſs, incomparably more fpirited,
and better illuftrates what follows. Armida,
according to Lulli, continues to melt in aſking
herſelf
Qu'eft ce qu'en fa faveur la pitié me veut dire ?
Then all of a fudden fhe refumes her former
fury, in the fingle word,
Frappons.
Now I conceive that the enraged Armida,
after having hefitated fome time, rejects with
pre-
FRENCH MUSICK. 115
precipitation her falfe compaffion, and pro-
nounces eagerly, raiſing up her dagger at the
fame time:
Qu'est ce qu'en fa faveur la pitié me veut dire ?
Frappons.
Perhaps, indeed, even the compofer under-
ftood the verſes in the ſame ſenſe, notwithſtand-
ing he hath fet them otherwiſe for the notes
determine fo little in the affair of declamation,
that we may venture to give the words what
meaning we like beſt.
-Ciel! qui peut m'arrêter ?
Achevons-Je fremis! Vengeons-nous-
Je foupire.
This is undoubtedly the moſt violent fitua-
tion of the whole fcene. Now it is, that there
is the greateſt ſtruggle in the breaft of Armi-
da. Who could believe that the muſician hath
let all the agitation pafs in the fame tone,
without the leaſt mental tranſition, without the
leaft harmonical break, and that in a manner
fo infipid, and with a harmony fo unmeaning
and ill-executed, that inſtead of ſaying with
the poet,
Achevons ;-je fremis. Vengeons nous→→→→
je foupire:
the muſician fays exactly,
Achevons; achevons. Vengeons nous; ven-
geons nous.
The trills have particularly a fine effect on fuch
words;
116
A LETTER ON
words; and there is affuredly a perfect cadence
on the word foupire.
Eft ce ainfi que je dois me venger aujourdhui
Ma colere s'etient quand j'approche de lui.
Thefe two verfes would be fet in a manner
very declamatory, had there been a greater in-
terval between them; and if the fecond did
not finiſh with a perfect cadence. Thefe per-
fect cadences always ruin the expreffion, par-
ticularly in the French recitative, in which
they fall fo heavily.
Plus je le vois, plus ma vengeance eft vaine.
Every perſon who knows any thing of the true
declamation of theſe verſes, muft condemn the
ſecond hemiftich as contrary to the fenfe. The
voice ought to rife upon ma vengeance, and fall
again gently on vainė.
Mon bras tremblant fe refufe à ma haine.
A wretched full cadence! and by ſo much
the more fo as it is accompanied by a trill.
Ah! quelle cruauté de lui ravir le jour !
Let Madam Dumeſnil ſpeak that line, and
you will find that the word cruauté is the moſt
elevated, and that the voice lowers itfelf con-
ſtantly to the end of the verſe: but how is it
poffible he ſhould neglect to emphaſize the word
jour. Here we difcover the muſician.
I paſs over the reſt of the fcene as having
nothing farther in it intereſting, or remarkable,
except the general inconfiftency and repeated
quavers through the whole.
Que
FRENCH MUSICK.
117
Que, s'il fe peut, je le haifle.
This parenthefis, s'il fe peut, appears to me
a fufficient proof of the talents of the mufi-
cian; when we find the words je le haiffe ſet to
the very fame notes, and exactly in the fame
manner. It is very difficult not to perceive
why Lulli was fo little capable of fetting to
mufick the poetry of the great genius he kept
in his pay.
With respect to the paultry air at the end of
this foliloquy, I had rather ſay nothing about
it; and if any of my readers are fond of the
French mufick, and know any thing of the
Italian piece which was propofed as a parallel
to this, and particularly the impetuous, pa-
thetic and tragical air which clofes it, they will,
I doubt not, be pleaſed with my filence.
?
To recapitulate in a few words my opinion
of this celebrated foliloquy, I fay, that if we
look upon it in the light of finging; it con-
tains neither meaſure, character nor melody;
if we conceive it only as fimple recitative, it is
both unnatural and inexpreffive; and whatever
name you pleaſe to call it by, it is full of wire-
drawn founds, trills and other ornaments ſtill
more ridiculous from their fituation, than they
even generally are in French mufick.
Its modulation indeed, is regular, but it is
puerile on account of that regularity, and at
the fame time, pedantic without energy, and
without intereft. The accompanyment is con-
fined to the thorough baſs, in a fituation that
required a diſplay of all the powers of mu-
fick; and even that baſs is fitter to lay under
the leffon of a ſchool-boy, than to be the accom-
pany-
118
A LETTER ON
070
1
panyment of a ſpirited fcene of an opera; the
harmony of which ſhould be well chofen, and
applied with the moſt exquiſite diſcernment, in
order to render the declamation more fenfible,
and the expreffion more affecting. In a word,
if any body ſhould take it into their head to
play the mufick of that fcene, without adding
the words, without fquawling and without gef-
ture, it would be impoffible to deduce any idea
from it analogous to the fituation it fhould
defcribe, or the fentiments it is made ufe of to
exprefs. On the contrary, the whole would
appear to be only a tedious fucceffion of founds
modulated at random, and folely with a view
to lengthen out the time. And yet, this foli-
loquy always had, and I doubt not always will
have, a ftriking effect on the ftage; becaufe
the verſes are admirable, and the fituation live-
ly and interefting. But without the looks
and action of the actress, I am perfuaded that
nobody could bear the recitative, and that fuch
mufick ftands in great need of the affiftance
of the eyes to be fupportable to the ears.
ነ
+
I conceive I have now fully fhewn that there
is neither meaſure nor melody, in the French
mufick, becauſe the language is not ſuſceptible
of it; that French finging is only a continual
fquawling intolerable to any unprejudiced ear;
that its harmony is dull, inexpreffive, and pue-
rile; that the French airs are no airs; and that
their recitative is in fact no recitative Hence,
I conclude, that the French nation have no
muſick, nor can have any†; or that, if they
ever
+ I do not conceive it having a mufick, to bor-
row that of another language, and to endeavour to
7
adapt
FRENCH MUSICK.
119
ever have one, it will be fo much the worfe
for them.
I am, Sir, &c.
adapt it to our own; nay I had much rather retain
our old vile and ridiculous chant, than to mix ftill
more ridiculouſly the Italian melody with the
French. This difgufting union, which will per-
haps be the ſtudy of our muſicians for the future,
is too monflrous to be admitted, nor will the cha-
racter of our language ever bear it. A few comic
pieces may probably paſs under favour of the
fymphony; but I will be bold to ſay that tragedy
will never be even attempted. There has been
much applauded this fummer, at the comic opera,
the performance of a man of talents, who feems to
have attended to good mufick with a good ear,
and has converted a piece of this kind into French,
as near as poffible: his accompanyments are imi-
tations without being copies; and if he has not
arrived at mufick, it is becauſe it was impoffible. As
to you, young muficians, who find in yourfelves
talents for your art, go on publickly to deſpiſe the
Italian mufick: I perceive that your intereft requires
it; but I would adviſe you ſpeedily to ftudy that
language and its mufick, if you would ever be able
to turn against your competitors that difdain which
you at preſent affect to have for your mafters.
**ILIIILILIIL; ILLL
NARCISSUS,
OR
The SELF-ADMIRER.
A COMEDY.
Repreſented at Paris by his Majefty's
Company of Comedians, on the 18th
of December, 1752.
波波波
​枣​粥
​肝​肝
​VOL. II. MISE:
G
[ 123 ]
T
PREFACE.
HIS Comedy was written when I was
but eighteen years of age, and I have
kept it by me as long as I fet any value on the
reputation of an author. At length, how ver,
I have taken courage to publish it, thougn I
ſhall never be bold enough to ſay any thing in
its defence. It is not, therefore, in beha i of
my piece, but myſelf, that I now addref the
publick.
In ſpite of the reluctance I feel in ſpeaking
of myſelf, it is neceffary that I fhould either
acknowledge the faults imputed to me, or that
I should justify myſelf againſt fuch imputations.
I am fenfible that I do not engage with equal
weapons; my opponents attacking me with
raillery, and I defending myſelf only by argu-
ment: but provided I can convince my adver-
faries, I give myfelf very little trou' le about
perfuading them.
By endeavouring to merit felf-eſteem, I
have learned to do without that of others, who,
for the moſt part, do as well without mine.
But though it be of no conſequence whether
people think well or ill of me, it is of very
great confequence that they ſhould have no rea-
fon to think ill of me. And it is of confe-
quence to the truth, which I have maintained,
G 2
that
124
PREFACE.
that its defender ſhould not be justly accuſed of
taking its part merely out of caprice or vanity,
without either loving or knowing it.
The fide I took, in the difcuffion of a cer-
tain philofophical queftion, fome years ago, did
not fail to create me a number of enemies* ;
more zealous perhaps for the intereſts of men
of
;
* I am informed that many perfons take it ill that
I call my enemies, by the name of enemies
norindeed is it at all unlikely in an age, when nobody
dares any longer call any thing by its proper name.
I learn alfo, that each of my adverfaries com-
plains, when I reply to any other objections than his
own; pretending that I throw away my time in com-
bating chimeras. This fufficiently proves to me,
that they do not throw away theirs, in reading the
objections of each other. As to my own part, I
thought myſelf obliged to take that trouble; and
have read all the numerous writings publiſhed
againſt me, even from the firſt reply I was honour-
ed with, to the four German fermons lately printed;
one of which begins much in the following manner.
"If Socrates, my brethren, were to rife from the
dead, and behold the flouriſhing ſtate of the ſciences
in Europe; why do I fay Europe?-even in Ger-
many-why do I fay Germany ?-even in Saxo-
ny-why do I fay Saxony?-even in Leipzig;-
why do I fay Leipfig ?-even in this univerfity;
Socrates himfelf, I fay, ftruck with aſtoniſhment
and refpect, would place himfelf modeftly among
our ſtudents; and receiving our lectures with fub-
miffion, would foon lofe among us that ignorance
of which he fo juftly complained." I have read
all theſe things, and have made but few replies to
them; but I am very glad thoſe gentlemen, their
authors, have thought well enough of them to be
jealous of the preference. As to thofe perfons
who
PREFACE.
А С
125
>
of letters, than for the honour of literature.
This I forefaw, and did not at all doubt that
their conduct on the occafion, would prove.
more in my favour than all my differtations.
In fact, they had not the prudence to conceal
their furprize or vexation at finding an academy
diſplay its integrity fo unfeaſonably. They
fpared for no invectives, nor even falfehoods *
in their endeavours to invalidate the force of its
judgment. Nor was I forgotten in the midft
of their declamations. Many of them under-
took boldly to refute me; thofe who are judges
know with what force, and the publick in ge-
neral know with what fuccefs. Others of
them, more cunning, and fenfible of the dan-
who are offended at the word enemies, I confent with
all my heart, to give it up, provided they will fur-
niſh me with another, by which I may denote not
only all thoſe who have attacked my opinions, ei-
ther in print, or more prudentially, and with greater
fecurity, in company with the women and the wits;
among whom they might be affured I fhould not go to
defend myſelf; but alfo thofe who, pretending now
to believe that I have no enemies, and yet at
firft imagined the objections of thofe enemies
unanswerable; and when I had replied to them,
cenfured me for fo doing, becaufe, according to
them, I had not been attacked. They will per-
mit me therefore, after all, to continue ftill to call
my enemies by their proper name; for, notwith-
ftanding the great politenefs of the age I live in,
I am as unpoliſhed as the Macedonians of Philip.
* In the Mercury of the year 1752, may be feen
the difavowal of the academy of Dijon, with re-
ſpect to a certain piece, falfely attributed by the
author to one of the members of that academy.
G 3
ger
126
PREFACE.
ger of controverting directly demonftrative-
truths, artfully diverted on my perfon, the at-
tention which ſhould have been paid only to my
arguments; while an examination of the accu-
fations they brought against me, made the more-
important accufations I brought againſt them,
overlooked. It is to thefe, therefore, I muft
once again make reply.
They pretend that I do not believe a word
of the truths I have maintained, and that,.
though I have demonftrated certain propofi-
tions, I am firmly perfuaded to the contrary::
that is as much as to fay, I have proved things
fo
very extravagant, that it may be justly affirm-
ed I could do it only by way of amuſement.j
It is in this manner they do honour to that fci-
ence, which ferves as a foundation for all the
reft; while the art of reafoning muft doubtless
be ſuppoſed to ſerve greatly to the difcovery of
truth, when it can be employed fo very fuc-
cessfully in the demonſtration of abſurdities !
·
They pretend that I do not believe a wordi
of the truths I have maintained. This is
doubtlefs on their part, a very new and con-'
venient manner of replying to arguments that
are unanswerable, to refute even the demon-
ftrations of Euclid, and every thing elſe that
is demonſtrated in the world. It appears to,
me that thoſe, who fo rafhly accufe me of
ſpeaking againſt my own fentiments, make very
little fcruple of ſpeaking againft theirs. For
they have found nothing, either in my writ-
ings or in my conduct, that fhould fuggeft fuch,
an idea, as I fhall prefently prove: and they
muſt not pretend to be ignorant, that when a
man ſpeaks ſeriouſly, he has a right to be be-
lieved,
PREFACE.
127
lieved, at least if his actions do not contradict
his words. Nor indeed if they did, would
it be always a proof that he did not believe what
he ſaid.
They may exclaim, therefore, as much as
they pleaſe, that in declaring myſelf againſt
the fciences, I fpeak againft my opinion. I
know of but one anſwer to make to an affer-
tion fo rafh and fo deftitute at once of proof
and probability; this is fhort and expreffive,
and would have them take my denial for their
answer.
་
: They pretend farther that my conduct is in-
confiftent with my principles, and it is not to
be doubted they will make uſe of this fecond
plea to corroborate the firft: for there are num-
-bers of people very capable of diſcovering evi-
-dence of what does not exiſt. They will fay,
that while I compoſe mufick and write verfes,
-it is with a very bad grace I declaim against
-the fine arts; and that even in the province of
the Belles-Lettres, which I affect to defpife,
there are many occupations much more laud-
able than that of writing comedies. It is ne-
ceffary to make a reply alfo to this accufa-
tion.
In the first place, though this fhould be ad-
mitted as ftrictly true; I fay it can only prove
my conduct to be bad, but not that I do not
fpeak fincerely. If it were lawful to deduce
proofs of the fentiments of mankind from their
actions, we might with great reaſon conclude
that the love of juſtice is baniſhed from among
mankind, and that there does not exiſt a ſingle
Chriſtian upon the face of the earth. Let
G 4
them
128 PREFACE.
them produce men who act always conformably
to their principles, and I will pafs fentence on
mine. Such is the lot of humanity, reafon.
points out to us the goal, but our paffions lead
us aftray. Though it were true therefore,
that I did not act agreeably to my fentiments,
that alone is no reafon to accufe me of fpeaking
contrary to my fentiments, or to charge my
principles with being falfe.
But if I fhould be condemned on this head,
it will be fufficient to compare the different
times of my delinquency, to conciliate the
matter. I have not had the happineſs to think
always as I do at prefent. Deceived by the
prejudices and prepoffeffions of the age, I long
thought ſtudy, the only occupation worthy of
a wife man I looked upon, the fciences there-
fore with reſpect, and the learned with admira-
tion *. I did not comprehend how perfons
could be mifled who conftantly followed de-
monſtration, nor that they could do ill, in al-
ways preaching up wiſdom. It was not till
after I took a clofer view of things, that I
* I cannot help fmiling as often as I reflect on
my former fimplicity. I never read a book of mo-
rality or philofophy, but I thought I was looking
into the very foul and principles of the author. I
conceived all theſe grave writers to be men of irre-
proachable lives, modeft, prudent and virtuous.
I formed angelical ideas of their converſation, and
ſhould not have approached any one of their houſes,
but with as much reverence as I fhould have ap-
proached a fanctuary. At length, I had the op-
portunity to fee and converfe with them; this pue-
rile prepoffeffion vaniſhed, and it is the only errour
of which they cured me,
learn..
PREFACE.
129
learned to fet a juft value on them; and, tho'
in my reſearches, I have always found fatis elo-
quentiæ, fapientiæ parum, it required much
time, obſervation and reflection to diffipate the
illufion of fcientific pomp, by which I had been
captivated. It is not to be wondered at, that,
during the prevalence of theſe errours and pre-
judices, while I held the character of an au-
thor in fuch high eſtimation, I fhould fome-
times afpire to obtain it myſelf. At thofe times
were the verſes, with most of my other pieces,
and among the reft this little comedy, occa-
fionally written. It would perhaps be too fe-
vere to reproach me, at this time of day, with
the amuſements of my youth; it would, at leaſt,
be injurious to accufe me on this account of
having acted contrary to principles which I did
not at that time entertain. It is long fince I
have given up all pretenfions. to things of this
kind; and think that my giving them to the
public, after having prudently kept them by
me fo long, is a frank confeffion that I difdain
equally the commendation or the cenfure they
may excite: for I no longer regard them with
the eye of an author. They are a kind of il-
legitimate children, which one careffes with
pleafure, though blufhing at the fame time
to have been the father of them; and fending
them abroad, with a laſt farewel to take their
fortune, without being greatly folicitous what
may become of them.
But it is throwing away argument, to reafon.
upon fuch chimerical fuppofitions. If I am ac--
cuſed without reafon of cultivating letters
which I deſpiſe, I defend myſelf from fuch
accufation without neceffity: for, though the
G. 5
fact
130
PREFACE.
fact were true, there would be no inconfift-
ency in it
in it; as it remains for me to prove.
I fhall to this end, according to my ufual
cuftom, follow that fimple and eafy method
which beſt agrees with the truth. I fhall lay
down the ſtate of the queſtion anew; I fhall.
explain my principles anew, and upon that ex-
poſition ſhall challenge my adverfaries to fhew
in what my actions give the lie to my words.
They, on their part, will take care no doubt.
to give me an anſwer; as they are fuch adepts
at the wonderful art of difputing pro and contra.
upon all kinds of fubjects. They will begin,
according to their cuftom, by laying down a
different queftion after their own fancy; and
this they will make me refolve in the manner-
moft convenient to themſelves. In order to at-
tack me with the greater advantage, they will
make me argue not after my own manner, but
after theirs; they will artfully divert the eyes
of the reader from the effential object, to fix
them on others which are infignificant.. They.
will combat a phantom of their own imagina-
tion, and pretend they have vanquiſhed me.
But I fhall do what I ought. To begin.
"Science is good for nothing, and is pro-
ductive of nothing but evil; for it is bad in
its own nature. It is no more infeparable from.
vice, than ignorance from virtue. Every learn-
ed people in the world have been corrupt;
every ignorant people virtuous: in a word,
there are no vices but what are among the
learned, nor is there any fuch thing as a virtuous.
man, but among thofe who know nothing.
There is one method therefore for us to become
honeft people, this is to proferibe the fciences
4
{
and
PREFACE.
131
and the learned, to burn our libraries, fhut up
our academies, colleges and univerfities, and to
plunge ourſelves again into the barbariſm of
the primitive ages.
"
Such are the curious affertions which my
adverſaries have refuted; but then, I have never
faid or thought a fingle fyllable of them: nor
can any thing well be imagined more oppofite
to my fyftem than theſe abfurd propofitions,
which they have the goodneſs to impute to me.
What I have really faid, and think, and which
they have not refuted, is as follows.
The point in queftion was to determine whe-
ther the revival of the arts and fciences hath-
contributed to the purity of our morals. In
demonftrating, as I have done, that our morals-
are not pure, this queſtion was in a great de-
gree refolved.
It
* When I faid that our manners were corrupt, I
did not mean in fo faying, that thoſe of our an-
ceſtors were pure; but only that ours were ftill
much worſe than theirs. There are a thouſand
fources of corruption among men; and although.
the ſciences are the most rapid and copious, they
are far from being the only one. The deftruction
of the Roman Empire, the inroads of a multitude
of Barbarians caufed a ſtrange mixture of various,
people, which neceffarily contributed to diverfify
the manners and cuftoms of each. The crufades,›
commerce, the difcovery of the Indies, navigation,
long voyages, and many other caufes which. I do not
mention, increafed the diforder. Every thing that
ferves to facilitate the communication between dif-
ferent nations, tends reciprocally to convey to each,
not the virtues, but the vices of the reft; and ferves
•
G 6
to
1.32
PREFACE.
It evidently included, however, another more-
general and important one, concerning the in-
fluence which the cultivation of the ſciences
ought ever to have on the morals of a people.
It is this, of which the former is only a con-
fequence, that I propofed more carefully to
examine.
I began with facts, by which I demonſtrated
that the morals of every people in the world,
have degenerated in proportion as they ac-
quired a tafte for ftudy, and cultivated litera-
ture and the ſciences.
Nor was this enough; for, without being
able to deny that theſe things always accom-
panied each other, it might have been denied
that one was neceffarily induced by the other.
lain *
to degenerate thofe manners which are peculiar and
proper to their reſpective climates, conftitution and
government. The fciences, therefore, have not:
done all the miſchief; they have only done a great
part, and what is peculiarly theirs, is their having
given to vice an agreeable colouring, a certain air
of decency, which prevents our being fhocked at
it. I remember when the comedy called the Vil-
was firſt repreſented, the character of the hero -
was not thought conſiſtent with its title. Cleon ap-
peared to be only fuch as people in general are;.
he was like the rest of the world: fo that the abo-
minable character, which is ſo finely drawn and,
expoſed in that play, and ought to make every one
fhudder at their own guilt that in the leaft reſembled
it, feemed quite imperfect: his crimes paffing for
mere acts of gallantry, becauſe thofe who thought
themſelves very honeft people, found him exactly
like themſelves,
* Le Mechante
會
​I fhewed,
PREFACE.
133
I fhewed, therefore, that the fource of our er-
rours in this particular, confifts in our com-
paring our own vain and deceitful knowledge
with that fovereign intelligence, which fees the
truth of all things at one view.. Science, con-
fidered abftractedly, deferves our admiration;
but the fooliſh ſcience of mankind merits only
derifion and contempt.
A tafte for letters in a people always denotes
the beginning of corruption, which is haftily
accelerated. For fuch a tafte cannot prevail
over a whole nation, but from two bad caufes,
which ftudy fupports, and in turn increaſes,
viz. idleneſs, and a defire of diftinction. In
every well conftituted ſtate, each citizen hath
his particular duties to diſcharge; and theſe are
too dear and important to leave him much lei-
fure for frivolous fpeculations. In every well
conftituted ſtate, the citizens are all fo far
equal, that none are preferred to others for
their abilities, but only for their virtue: and
yet, even this laſt diſtinction is often dange-
rous, as it tends to make men knaves and hy-
pocrites.
The tafte for letters, which ariſes from a de-
fire of diftinction, is neceffarily productive of
evils infinitely more dangerous than all their
good confequences are uſeful; making thoſe
who indulge themſelves in its cultivation, little
fcrupulous about the means of obtaining their
end. The ancient philofophers obtained great
reputation, by teaching mankind their practi-
cal duties, and the principles of virtue. But
theſe precepts preſently becoming common, it
was neceffary to obtain diftinction by taking
contrary methods. This gave rife to the ab-
furd
134
PREFACE.
furd fyftems of Leucippus, Diogenes, Pyrrho,.
Protagoras and Lucretius. Among the mo-
derns, Hobbes, Mandeville, and a thouſand
others have affected to diftinguiſh themſelves in
the fame manner; and their pernicious doctrine
hath fo far prevailed that, although we have
fome true philofophers zealous to enforce the
laws of humanity and virtue, it is fhocking to
fee how far this rational age hath carried its
maxims of contempt for the duties of the man
and the citizen.
A tafte for letters, philofophy and the fine
arts, hath extinguished a regard for our prin-
cipal duties, and our ſenſe of true glory. When
talents have once laid claim to the honours due
to virtue, every body becomes defirous of
being thought a man of parts, and nobody
takes a pleaſure in being a man of probity..
Hence arifes another inconfiftency, which is,
that men are rewarded for qualities which do
not depend on themſelves; for our talents are
born with us, but our virtues depend on our-
felves.
*
+
The firſt and almoft the only care that is
taken in our education, is to fow the feeds
of theſe ridiculous prepoffeffions. Our unhap-
py youth are tormented in order to make
them learn their letters. We learn all the rules
of grammar, before we hear a word of the du-
ties of man: we are told all that hath hitherto
been done in the world, before we are told a
word of what we ought to do: and provided
we can but prattle agreeably, nobody troubles.
himſelf whether we know how, either to think.
or act. In a word, we are required to be
learned only in things that are of no manner
off
ي
PREFACE.
135
of ufe; and our children are educated, exactly
like the athleticks of the ancients; who, being:
bred to diſplay their ſtrength and agility in the
public fhews, an uſeleſs and fuperfluous exer--
cife, were careful to avoid employing them to-
any profitable or commendable uſe.
A tafte for letters, for philofophy and the
fine arts, enervates both body and foul. A con-
finement to the cloſet makes men delicate, and
weakens their conftitution; and the foul pre-
ferves with difficulty its vigour when that of
the body is loft. Study wears out the human
machine, waſtes the ſpirits, deſtroys its force,
and enervates its courage; which fufficiently
ſhews nature never intended it for us: it is by
theſe means we become cowardly and pufilla-
nimous, equally incapable of fupporting pain
or refifting our paffions. It is well known.
that the inhabitants of cities are little adapted
to ſupport the fatigues of war, and we are not
lefs ignorant of the character of men of letters
with regard to perſonal bravery*. Now no-
thing is more fufpicious than the probity of a
coward.
Much reflection on the weakneſs of human
nature, often ferves no other purpoſe than to
divert us from great and generous undertak-
**
I ſhall here cite a modern example, for the fake
of thoſe who reproach me with bringing all my ex-
amples from the ancients. The republick of Genoa,
in order to reduce the Corficans to fubjection,.
thought no method more certain than that of efta-
blifhing among them an academy. It would not
be difficult for me to fwell this note; but it would
be putting an affront on thoſe of the learned, whom
only I trouble myſelf about.
ings.
¥36
PREFACE.
ings. In confequence of meditating on the
miſeries of humanity, our apprehenfion cauſes
us to fink under their weight; while too much
forefight deprives us of our fortitude in depriv-
ing us of fecurity. It is in vain we affect to
arm ourſelves againſt unforeſeen accidents; for,
tho' ſcience endeavours to furnish us with new
fecurities againſt natural inconveniences, it
impreffes on our minds a greater ſenſe of their
weight and importance, than it affords relief
by its vain reaſonings and argumentative ſub-
tilties.
A taſte for philoſophy relaxes all thoſe ties of
mutual benevolence and eſteem, which attach
men to fociety: and this is perhaps the moſt
pernicious of all the evils it generates. The
pleaſures of ftudy foon render every other at-
tachment infipid. By dint of reflecting on a
ftate of humanity, and obſerving mankind, the
philofopher learns to form a juft eftimate of .
their value; and it is not eaſy to have an affec-
tion for what we defpife. He foon learns to
concentrate in his own perſon all that intereſt
which virtuous minds divide among one another.
His contempt for others, turns to the account
of his pride, and his felf-love increaſes in pro-
portion to his indifference for the rest of the
world. His family, his country, foon become
words without meaning, and he is no longer
a father, a citizen, or a man;, he is merely a
philofopher.
At the fame time, that the cultivation of the
ſciences detaches the heart of the philofopher,
in a great degree, from the reft of mankind,
it attaches men of letters to them, in the fame
degree with a different view, but equally to the
pre-
PREFACE.
137
prejudice of virtue. Every man, who employs
himſelf in the cultivation of agreeable talents,
is defirous of pleaſing and being admired; and
to be ſo in preference to all others. The pub-
lic applaufe belongs to himſelf alone; and he
will exert himſelf to the utmost to obtain it,
unleſs indeed he may exert himſelf ſtill more
to prevent the fuccefs of his contemporaries.
Hence arifes on one fide, the refinements of
taſte and politeneſs, baſe fervility, mean flat-
tery, and all thofe infidious folicitudes and pueri-
lities, which in the end debafe the foul, and
corrupt the heart; and on the other fide, the
jealouſy, and rivalfhip which fubfift between
artifts ; together with perfidy, calumny, kna-
very, treachery, and all the meannefs and
odium of vice. If the philofopher defpifes
the world, the artiſt foon makes the world de-
ſpiſe him, while both in the end concur to ren-
der themſelves contemptible.
To this may be added, that of all the truths
I have propoſed to the confideration of the fen-
fible part of mankind, this is the moſt cruel
and aſtoniſhing. Our writers all look upon it
as a maſter-piece of modern policy, that the
ſciences, arts, luxury, commerce, laws, and
our other connections, by drawing cloſer
together the bonds of fociety * by perſonal in-
* What I complain of, is, that philoſophy relaxes
thoſe bonds of fociety, which are formed by mutual
eſteem and benevolence; and that at the fame time
the arts and fciences, and all other objects of com-
merce, ftraiten thofe bonds by perfonal intereſt.
It is, in fact, impoffible to ftraiten the one without
proportionably relaxing the other; fo that there is
no inconfiſtency in what is above afferted.
tereft,
138
E.
PREFAC
tereft, lay all under a mutual dependence,
and by reciprocal wants unite them in one
common intereft; by which means individuals
are obliged to concur to the public good, in
order to promote their own. This notion is,
doubtless, a very fine one, and is ſet forth in
its beft light but if we examine it with atten-
tion and impartiality, we muſt dedu& from it
a number of apparent advantages.
It is, to be fure, a very wonderful thing to
have laid mankind under the impoffibility of
living together, without being under the ne-
ceffity of ſupplanting, deceiving, betraying and
deftroying each other! It is neceffary for us
never to appear what we are; as, for every
two men whofe interefts may coincide, theré.
are an hundred thoufand, perhaps, whofe in
tereſts are totally oppofite; nor are there any
means for any one to fucceed without deceiving
or ruining the reft. Such is the fatal fource
of outrages, robberies, villainies, and the hor-
rours of all forts which are infeparable from a
ftate, in which every one pretending to pro-
mote the reputation and fortune of others, en-
deavours in reality only to promote his own,
and that at their expence.
What have we gained by all this? A great
many babblers, rich people, and rationalists';
that is to ſay, enemies to virtue and to common-
fenfe. On the other hand, we have loft our
innocence and our morals. The populace are
involved in mifery, and all are the flaves of
vice. Crimes not actually committed are root-
ed in our hearts, and nothing is wanting but
an affurance of impunity for us to put them
into execution.
Strange-
PREFACE.
139
Strange and fatal must be that conftitution,
in which the accumulation of riches always fa-
cilitates the means of farther accumulation,
and in which it is impoffible for him that has
nothing to acquire any thing; in which an
honeft man hath no means to extricate himſelf
from poverty; in which knaves are moft ho-
noured, and in which a man muft neceffarily
renounce all virtue to become a refpectable
perfon. I am fenfible that mere declaimers
have faid all this an hundred times over; but
they ſaid it by way of declamation only; I
give my reaſons for it: they perceived the evil,
and I diſcover the caufes, adding beſide a very
ufeful and confolatory reflection, in fhewing
that all theſe vices belong not fo much to man
in himſelf, as to man in a ſtate of fociety ill-
governed *. Such are the truths, which I
have
* It is remarkable that a number of petty maxims.
at prefent prevail in the world, which feduce weak
people under a falfe notion of philofophy, and
which are befides. very convenient to terminate dif-
putes in an important and decifive tone, without
our having occafion to enter into a difcuffion of the
queftion. Such is the following. "Mankind have
every where the fame paffions; they are every where
influenced by felf-love and intereft: therefore, they
are every where the fame."
When mathematicians have laid down a fuppofi-
tion, which leads them regularly, ftep by ſtep, to
an abfurdity; they return by the fame fteps back
again, and thus demonftrate the fuppofition falſe.
The fame method applied to the maxim in queſtion,
would eaſily prove its abfurdity: but we fhall pro-
ceed in another manner. A favage is a man, and
an European is a man, The fuperficial reaſoner-
Con
140
PREFACE.
have laid down, and which I have endeavoured
concludes hence, immediately, that the one is no
better than the other; but the true philofopher
reflects that in Europe, the government, laws,
cuſtoms, felf-intereft, all lay individuals under the
conftant neceffity of reciprocally deceiving each
other: every thing contributes to make vice a duty;
it is neceffary they ſhould be wicked, in order to be
wife: for there cannot be a greater folly than to
promote the happineſs of bad men at the expence
of one's own. Among the favages, felf-intereſt
pleads as ſtrongly as among us, but it does not in-
culcate the fame maxims. The love of fociety,
and their folicitude for their common defence, are the
only ties, by which they are united. The word
property, which makes even reputable people with
us guilty of fo many crimes, is a term of hardly
any meaning with them: they lie under no man-
ner of temptation to impofe" on each other: the
public eſteem being the only thing to which every
one aſpires, and which they all deferve.
It is very
poflible for a favage to commit a bad action, but it
is impoffible he ſhould acquire a habit of doing ill,
becauſe it could ferve no good purpoſe to him. I
conceive a very juft eftimation of the morals of
men, may be formed from the multiplicity of bu-
fineſs fubfifting among them: the more trade they
carry on, the more induſtry and ingenuity are ad-
mired, the more do they deceive and decently im-
pofe on each other, while they become themfelves
more the objects of contempt. It is with reluc-
tance I fay it; but the man of probity is he only
who hath no need to impoſe on any one, and fuch
only is the favage.
Illum non populi fafces, non purpura regum
Flexit et infidos agitans difcordia fratres;
Non res Romanæ, perituraque regna. Neque ille
Aut doluit miferans inopem, aut invidit habenti.
to›
PREFACE.
147
to prove in the ſeveral tracts I have publiſhed on
the fubject. I proceed now to the conclufions
which I have deduced from them.
Science is not made for mankind in gene-
ral. Human nature is inceffantly erring in its
reſearches; and if at any time it attains their
end, it is almoſt always to its prejudice. Man
is born to act and refolve, not to reflect and ftudy.
Reflection ſerves only to make him unhappy with-
out making him better or wifer: it caufes him
to regret the good that is paft, and prevents
his enjoyment of the preſent: it preſents to
him an happy futurity to feduce his imagination
and torment his defires; and a melancholy one
to anticipate his diftrefs. Study corrupts our
morals, ruins our health, deſtroys our confti-
tution, and often perverts the underſtanding:
and though, indeed, it teaches us fomething,
the little knowledge thus acquired is very dearly
obtained.
I confess that there are fome few fublime ge-
niufes, who can penetrate through thofe clouds
which envelop the truth; that there are ſome
privileged minds capable of refifting the abfur-
dity of vanity, the meanness of jealouſy, and
thoſe other paffions, which are excited by a
taſte for literature. The mall number of per-
fons, who have the happiness to poffefs thefe
qualities, are an honour to mankind; to thefe
alone it belongs, for the good of the reft, to
apply themfelves to ftudy; and this exception.
confirms the general rule; for if every indivi-
dual of mankind were a Socrates, the fciences
would not be hurtful; but then there would
be no occafion for them.
All
142
PREFACE.
All people who have morals, and of courfe
pay a refpect to the laws, and are averfe, to in-
novations, ought carefully to guard againſt the
fciences, and particularly the profeffors of
them, whoſe ſententious and dogmatical maxims
will foon teach them to deſpiſe their laws and
cuſtoms; which no nation can ever do without
finking into corruption. The leaſt change in
a nation's cuſtoms, though in fome refpects
advantageous, turns out always to the preju-
dice of their morals: for on thefe their morals
depends; and when they ceaſe to pay a proper
reſpect to theſe, they have no other rule of con-
duct but their own paffions, and no other re-
ftraint than the laws, which may fometimes
keep the vicious within bounds, but will never
make them virtuous. Befides, when philofo-
phy hath once taught a people to deſpiſe their
ancient cuſtoms, they will foon learn to elude
the laws. I fay, therefore, it is with the mo-
rals of a people, as with the reputation of an
individual: it is a treaſure which muft be care-
fully preferved; for if it be once loft, it is never
to be recovered *.
But when a people are corrupted to a certain
degree, whether the fciences have contributed
to
* I find in hiſtory one example, and that a
ftriking one, which feems to contradict this maxim.
This is the circumſtance of Rome's being founded
by a company of Banditti, whofe defcendants be-
came, in a few generations, the moſt virtuous peo-
ple that ever exifted. It would not be difficult,
however, to explain the fact, if this were the
proper place; but I content myſelf with remarking
here, that the founders of Rome were not ſo much
men
PREFACE.
143
to their corruption or not, ought thoſe ſciences
to be banished or cultivated, in order to render
the people better, or prevent their growing
worfe? This is another queftion; in the diſ-
cuffion of which I have declared abfolutely in
the negative. For in the first place, as a vici-
ous people never return to virtue, the point is,
not to make thofe virtuous who are not ſuch,
but to preferve them from becoming otherwiſe
who are ſo happy as to be fuch. In the fecond
place, the fame caufes which have corrupted a
people, fometimes ſerve to prevent their farther
corruption. Even as a man, who hath hurt
his conftitution by medicines, is obliged to
have farther recourfe to medicines, in order to
fave his life fo when the arts and ſciences have
given rife to vices, they become neceffary to
prevent their degenerating into flagitious crimes.
They deftroy virtue in fact, but leave the ex-
ternal appearance* of it; which is ftill pleafing.
They
:
•
men whofe morals were corrupted, as men whofe
morals were not formed. They did not deſpiſe
virtue, but they did not know what virtue was:
for the words virtues and vices are complicated no-
tions, which arife only from the frequent commerce
of mankind. At the worst, this objection cannot
be brought in favour of the fciences; for of the
two firft kings of Rome, who formed the repub-
lick, and inftituted its manners and cuftoms, the
one employed himfelf only in war, and the other
in religious ceremonies; the two things in all the
world moſt foreign to philofophy.
This appearance is a certain candour of man-
ners, which is often ſubſtituted in the place of their
purity;
344 PRE FACE.
They introduce in its place, decorum and po-
liteness; and inftead of the fear of appearing
vicious, they fubftitute the fear of appearing
ridiculous.
My advice therefore is, and I have given it
more than once, that we ſhould carefully main-
tain our preſent academies, colleges, univer-
fities, libraries, theatres, and all thoſe other
amufements, which may create a diverfion to
the vicious difpofitions of mankind, and pre-
vent their employing their leiſure hours in more
pernicious exercifes. For in a country where
there should be neither probity nor morality
left; it would be ftill better to live among
knaves than a among ruffians.
I come now to afk, where is the inconfiſt-
ency of my cultivating a tafte for thofe arts and
fciences, the progrefs of which I approve?
It were now a fruitlefs talk to perfuade people
to do good; all that can be done is, to prevent
their doing ill. To this end, they must be en-
gaged in puerilities to divert them from bad
actions; they must be amufed inftead of do-
cumented. If my writings have edified the
very few good people in the world, I have
done them all the fervice in my power; and
purity; a certain appearance of order, which pre-
vents the moſt horrible confufion; a certain ad-
miration of fine things, which prevents the good from
finking totally into oblivion. It is vice which af
fumes the maſk of virtue, not as hypocrify, to de-
ceive and betray; but to prevent, under that ami-
able and facred appearance, that horrour which it
conceives at itſelf, when it beholds itſelf in its true
image.
per-
PREFACE.
145
perhaps it may alſo be of ſome ſervice to them,
for me to throw out objects of amuſement to
others, which may prevent their receiving any
diſturbance from them. I fhould think myſelf
happy if I had a dramatic piece to be daily
hiffed off the ſtage; if by fuch means I might
reftrain but for two hours the vicious defigns
of a fingle fpectator; if I might preferve the
honour of the daughter or wife of a friend, the
fecret of his confident, or the fortune of his
creditor. When morality hath no longer any
influence, nothing fhould then be thought
of but the police; and it is well known that
mufick and the theatres form one of its moſt
important objects.
•
If, after this, there remains any difficulty
with regard to my juftification, I will venture
boldly to fay, it refpects neither my adverfa-
ries nor the public, but myſelf alone. For it
is only from felf-obfervation that I must be
enabled to judge, whether I am to reckon my-
felf among the fmall number of the ſelect, and
whether my mind is capable of fuftaining
the weight of literary ftudies. I have more
than once perceived the danger, and more than
once have I abandoned them, with a defign
never to reſume them more; thus renouncing
their feductive charms, I facrificed to my peace
of heart, the only pleaſures capable of en-
gaging it. And now, if amidst the languors
of a feeble conftitution, if at the clofe of a
tedious and painful life, I have ventured to
footh my pains, by employing a few moments
in the fame purſuits, I conceive that I have
neither fhewed myfelf fo much interefted, or
VOL. II. MISC. H
fo
146 PRE FACE.
fo vain of my performances, as to merit in
this refpect thoſe reproaches which I have caft
on men of letters.
There wanted but one proof, to compleat
the knowledge I wanted of myself; and this
I made without heſitation. After having exa-
mined into the fituation of my mind with
reſpect to literary fuccefs, it remained for me
to examine its ftate in cafe of the reverſe. [
now know what to think of it there too, and fet
the publick at defiance. My piece had the
fortune it deferved, and I forefaw; but except-
ing the uneafinefs I felt at the reprefentation's
having tired me, I went out of the theatre,
much better and more juftly fatisfied with my-
felf, than I fhould have done, had it fucceeded.
I adviſe thoſe, therefore, who are fo ready
to reproach me, to take the trouble to know
my principles better, and alfo to obſerve my
conduct more nearly before they tax me with
contradiction and inconfiftency. If they ever
perceive me ufing little arts to obtain the fuf-
frage and applaufe of the publick; if they
find me vain of having compofed pretty fongs,
afhamed of having written bad comedies, or
that I endeavour to detract from the reputa-
tion of my contemporaries, or that I affect to
depreciate the great men of the age, in order
to raise myſelf to their level; or if they find
me afpiring to academical honours, paying my
court to women of fashion, fervilely offering
incenfe to the Great; or that, unwilling
to fupport myſelf by the labour of my own
hands, I am afhamed of the profeffion I have
chofen, and am in the way of making a for-
tune;
PREFACE.
147
·
tune; if they ever find, in a word, that the
love of reputation makes me forget that of vir-
tue, I beg of them to advertiſe me of it, and
that publickly; when I promiſe them I will
immediately throw my books and manuſcripts
into the fire, and confefs myſelf guilty of
all the errours they are pleafed to reproach
me for
In the mean time, I fhall continue to write
books, to make verfes, and to compofe mu-
fick, if I have abilities, time and inclination.
I ſhall continue very frankly to ſpeak the bad
opinion I have of letters, and of thofe who
cultivate them; and fhall think myſelf not
* I admire how the greateft, part of the literati
are miſtaken in this affair. When they faw the arts
and ſciences attacked, they thought they were
themſelves perfonally intereſted; although, without
any inconfiftency, they might all have been of my
opinion, that, although theſe things have been very
prejudicial to fociety, it is at prefent become ef-
fentially neceffary to make uſe of them, as a re-
medy for the evil they have caufed; even as we do
fome poiſonous animals, by bruifing them to pieces,
and applying them to the wound they have made. In
a word, there is not one man of letters in the world,
who, if he could but fupport the preceeding article
in his own conduct, might not fay in his own fa-
vour, what I fay in mine: and this manner of ar-
guing appears to me very proper for men of letters
in general; for, by the way, they care very little
about the progrefs of the fciences, provided the
profeffors of them are held in veneration refem-
bling in this particular the prieſts of paganifm, who
inculcated their religion only to maintain their own
importance.
H 2
:
the
148
PREFAC E.
10
the worſe for it. It is true, it may hereafter
be faid, that this declared enemy of the arts
and ſciences wrote, nevertheleſs, and publiſhed
theatrical performances; and this, I confeſs,
will be a bitter ſatire, not on me, but on the
age in which I live.
**** ******* ***
NARCISSUS:
OR,
The SELF-ADMIRER.
}
A COMEDY.
***
H 3
**
PERSONS of the DRAMA..
MEN.
LISIMON, Father to Valentine and Lucinda,
and Guardian to Leander and Angelica..
VALENTINE, the Self-Admirer.
LEANDER, brother to Angelica,
FRONTIN, fervant to Valentine.
WOME N..
ANGELICA.
LUCINDA.
MARTHA, Lucinda's woman..
Scene. The Apartments of Valentine..
1
[ 151 ]
The SELF-ADMIRER.
SCENE I.
LUCINDA and MARTHA.
LUCINDA.
JUST now faw my brother walking in the
garden let us make hafte and lay his pic-
ture on his toilet before he returns.
MARTHA.
There it is, Madam, with the drapery f
altered, that it cannot fail to make him ridi-
culous. Well, tho' he be one of the hand-
fomeft men in the world, he looks ftill prettier
in the dreſs of a woman.
LUCINDA.
My brother Valentine is indeed fo delicate
and affectedly nice in his dress, that he is a kind
of woman in man's cloaths; ſo that his portrait
thus metamorphofed, feems rather his natural
garb than a diſguiſe.
MARTHA.
Nay, where is the harm? If the women are
now a days fond of coming as near as poffible
to the men, is it not proper the men fhould
meet them half way, and that one ſhould affect
the airs of coquetry, while the other affect airs
of confequence? Thanks to the faſhion, the
fexes will thus foon be brought upon a level.
H 4.
Lu-
152
NARCISSUS: OR,
LUCINDA.
Well, I cannot bring myfelf to approve fuch
ridiculous faſhions. Perhaps our own fex may
be fo happy as not to be lefs agreeable, tho' lefs
refpectable. But for the men, I lament their
blindneſs and infatuation. What can the
foolish young fellows mean by ufurping our
privileges? Do they think to render themfelves
more agreeable to the women by endeavouring
to reſemble them?
MARTHA.
If they do, they are miſtaken; for the wo-
men hate one another too cordially, to like any
thing that reſembles them. But as to this pic-
ture, madam; are not you afraid the Chevalier
will be offended at the trick you are going to
put on him?
LUCINDA.
Not at all, Martha, my brother is naturally
good-natured; and ſetting afide his particular
foible, does not want fenfe. He will readily
fee, by the filent reproach of his picture, that
I only defigned to cure him of a piece of folly,
which is even difagreeable to his miſtreſs An-
gelica, my father's ward, to whom he is juft
going to be married. It will be doing her at
leaft a piece of fervice, to correct the faults
of her lover, and you know how greatly
I ſtand in need of the affiftance of this kind
friend, to break off the match my father intends
for me with her brother.
MARTHA.
That young ftranger then, I find, that Cle-
ontes, whom you faw laft fummer at Paffy,
ftill fticks at your heart.
LU
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
153
LUCINDA.
I do not deny it. I even fully depend upon
his promiſe of ſeeing me again ſoon, and on
that which Angelica hath made me to engage
her brother to renounce me.
MARTHA.
Renounce you, madam! No, no. Believe
me, your charms will have a greater influence
to confirm that engagement, than Angelica
will have to break it.
LUCINDA.
You are a flatterer, Martha, but I tell you,
as Leander hath never ſeen me, it will be eafy
for his fifter to prepoffefs him against me, and
to perfuade him that, as he cannot be happy
with a woman whoſe heart is engaged to am-
other perfon, he cannot do better than to diſ-
engage himſelf by a decent refufal.
MARTHA.
A decent refuſal! Can you think, madam,
Leander can have the decency to refufe fuch a
fine young lady as you are, with a fortune of
forty thouſand crowns?-(Afide) If fhe knew
that Leander and Cleontes were the fame per-
ſon, ſhe would not think fuch a refufal very
decent.
LUCINDA.
Hark, Martha! What noife is that? Quick,
quick, hide the picture. It is certainly my
brother coming, and we have loft an opportu
nity, by ſtanding to prattle here, of putting our
project in execution.
MARTHA.
No, Madam, it is miſtreſs Angelica.
H5
SCENE
$54
NARCISSUS: OR,
SCENE
NE II.
ANGELICA, LUCINDA, MARTHA,
ANGELICA.
You know, my dear Lucinda, with what
reluctance I gave into your project, when you
caufed the drapery of your brother's picture to
be altered. And now I fee you on the point
of putting it into execution, I tremble to think
how much he may be diſpleaſed with us, when
he finds himſelf made a jeft of. I beg of you,
therefore, to give up this foolish defign. I
perceive I am not formed for diverting myſelf
at the risk of my repofe.
LUCINDA.
What a timid creature! Valentine is too
fond to take any thing amifs from you, fo long
as you are only his miftrefs. Remember you
have but one day left to indulge yourſelf in
following your own inclinations.
His turn
will come foon enough. Befides, the intent is
to cure him of a foible which expofes him to
ridicule; and this is properly the taſk of a
miftrefs. We may correct the faults of a lover;
but alas! we must bear with thoſe of a huf-
band.
ANGELICA.
But in what, after all, do you find him fo
very ridiculous? As he is really amiable, is he.
fo very wrong to think fo?
Don't we fet him
the example? He is defirous of pleafing; but
if this be a foible, by what virtue more agree-
able can a man recommend himſelf to ſo-
ciety?
MAR
THE SELF-ADMIRER. 155
MARTHA.
Particularly the fociety of the ladies. (Afide.
ANGELICA.
In fhort, Lucinda, if you will be ruled by
me, we will conceal both the portrait, and this
air of raillery; which may as well be taken for
an infult, as for a correction.
LUCINDA.
Oh! No. I will not throw away thus the
fruits of my induſtry. However, I will my-
felf run the risk of its fuccefs; you may be
no accomplice in the affair, any farther than to
ſtand by and look on.
MARTHA.
A mighty pretty diftinction truly !
LUCINDA.
(Afide.
I fhall be delighted to obferve the looks of
Valentine. It will be a charming fcene to be-
hold how he takes the deceit.
MARTHA.
True Ma'am. The pretence, I fee, is the
correction of Valentine, but the real motive is
to laugh at his expence. This is the happy
turn of the women. They often correct the
ridiculous, in thinking only to amufe them-
felves.
ANGELICA.
Well, well, if you are refolv'd on't; do:
but remember, you fhall be anfwerable to me
for the event.
Be it fo.
LUCINDA.
ANGELICA.
Mind, you have played me, fince we have
been together, a hundred unlucky tricks that
I owe you payment for. If this affair fhould
H 6
in-
156
NARCISSUS: OR,
}
involve me in any ſcrape with Valentine, take
care of yourſelf.
Yes, yes.
LUCINDA.
ANGELICA.
Think a little of your Leander.
LUCINDA.
Ah! my dear Angelica
ANGELICA.
Nay, nay, if you make me quarrel with
your brother, I proteft you fhall marry mine.-
In a lower tone to Martha.) Martha, you have
promiſed to keep the fecret.
MARTHA.
You may depend on me.
Well then, I
LUCINDA.
MARTHA.
I hear the Chevalier's voice.
Away, away,
unleſs you intend he ſhould have a circle of WO-
men at his toilette.
LUCINDA.
Let us take care he don't fee us. (She lays
down the picture on the table.) There, now,
the trap is baited.
MARTHA.
Now will I watch my gentleman, to fee
how
LUCINDA.
Huh! Let us be going.
ANGELICA.
Well, I have an ominous notion of the
fuccefs of this bufinefs.
SCENE
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
157
SCENE III.
VALENTINE, FRONTIN.
VALENTINE.
Well, my Frigidia, to day will be a great
day for you.
FRONTIN.
Frigidia! That is as much as to fay, An-
gelica. Yes, yes, a wedding day is a great day
indeed, that devilishly lengthens all thoſe that
come after it.
VALENTINE.
What pleaſure it will give me to make Ange-
lica happy?
FRONTIN.
Why, Sir, do you intend foon to leave her
a widow ?
VALENTINE.
Away with your unfeaſonable witticifms-
You know how much I love her. Tell me now,
what do you think can be wanting to her hap-
pinefs? With fo much love, with fome un-
derſtanding, and fuch a figure as you fee; I
think I am always certain to pleaſe.
FRONTIN.
Oh, Sir! the thing is indubitable; you
have made the experiment firft on yourſelf.
VALENTINE.
What I moft regret in this affair is, that my
marriage will make a number of others die with
chagrin they will be at fuch a lofs to know
where to beſtow their hearts elſewhere.
FRONTIN,
Oh! moft certainly. Thofe who love you,
for example, will fincerely hate your dear half.
And.
5
·1585
NARCISSUS: OR,
And the others
we find any of them?
but where the devil fhall
VALENTINE.
But it grows late. It is time to drefs to go
to Angelica.
Come on. (He fits down
to his toilette.) What do you think of my
looks to day? I am very pale, I don't ſeem
to look fo well as ordinary.
FRONTIN.
As ordinary! No. You are only as you
are in ordinary.
VALENTINE.
This is a very vile cuftom, this ufe of rouge;
and yet I cannot do without it; I fhould be
undone by the want of it. Where is my patch-
box? Ha! what's this? a picture!Ah
Frontin, what a charming object !-Where
did you get this portrait ?
FRONTIN.
I! Sir-May I be hang'd if I know any
thing of the matter.
VALENTINE.
What was it not you who put this picture
upon my toilette?
FRONTIN.
No, Sir,-let me die if I did.
VALENTINE.
Who could it be then?
FRONTIN.
Faith, I can't tell. It could be only the de-
vil or yourſelf.
VALENTINE.
Or fomebody elſe. You are paid for your
fecrefy, I fee. Do you know that the fight
of this object is depreciating to Angelica?
Upon my honour it is the prettieft figure I ever
faw
THE
159:
SELF-ADMIRER.
faw in my life. What eyes are here! Fron-
tin, I think they reſemble mine.
FRONTIN.
That is faying every thing.
VALENTINE.
And a good deal of my air too! Faith, fhe's
a charming creature; if her mind be anfwer-
able to her perfon. But her taſte is a proof of
her underſtanding. The little rogue is a judge
of merit.
FRONTAN.
What the devil is all this? Let me have the
honour, Sir, to look upon this marvellous
beauty.
VALENTINE.
There, look. But don't think me the dupe
of your affected fimplicity. I am no novice in
adventures.
FRONTIN..
Am I not miſtaken? No. "Tis even he;
it is himself. How is he dreffed up here with
flowers and pompoons? This is, doubtleſs,.
fome trick of Madam Lucinda's; in which
Martha hath at leaſt her fhare. But I ſhan't
interfere with them, my indiſcretion hath al-
ready coft me many a time too dear.
VALENTINE.
Well, doth Mr. Frontin know the original
of that picture?
FRONTIN.
Poh! know her! Some hundred kicks on
the breech, and as many repetitions of a box
on the ear, which I have had the honour of re-
ceiving from her, have fufficiently confirmed
my remembrance of her.
VA-
160
NARCISSUS: OR,
VALENTINE.
A young lady give kicks on the breech! That
is a little frolickfome truly.
FRONTIN.
Oh Sir! only the effects of a little domeſtic
impatience, which with her paſs for nothing.
VALENTINE.
How! have you been in her ſervice?
FRONTIN.
Yes, Sir, and have even now the honour to
be her very humble fervant.
VALENTINE.
This is pleaſant enough, that there ſhould
be a pretty woman in Paris, and I not know
her.Come, tell me fincerely, is the ori-
ginal aş handſome as the portrait ?
FRONTIN.
As handfome, Sir! why, to be fure, if any
body hath any thing like your perfections, I
know nobody capable of bearing a compariſon
with you but her.
VALENTINE, looking carneftly on the portrait.
My heart can no longer refift ſuch attrac-
tions.- Frontin, tell me the name of this
beauty.
FRONTIN. Afide.
Ah! faith, now I am caught.
VALENTINE.
}
What is her name, I ſay?
Speak.
FRONTIN.
Her name, Sir !
Her name -
She
has no name, Sir:-She is one of thoſe anony-
mous beauties, with which the town fwarms.
VALENTINE.
Into what fufpicions and perplexity this rafcal
throws me! Is it poffible theſe charming.
features.
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
16-1
features can be thofe of a wench nobody
knows?
FRONTIN.
Why not, Sir! Beauty often takes a plea-
fure in ornamenting the faces of thoſe who
have nothing elfe to boaft.
And fo this is
VALENTINE..
FRONTIN.
A little coquet, very fantaſtical, and very
vain, without having any reafon to be fo: in
a word, a true female petit-maitre.
VALENTINE.
Thus it is that theſe rafcally valets ſpeak of
their maſters and miftreffes. I am refolved,
however, to fee her. Where is her houſe?
FRONTIN.
Her houſe, Sir! do you think fuch a little
creature as that ever had a houſe?
VALENTINE.
Don't provoke me, rafcal. Tell me where
fhe lodges then.
FRONTIN.
Faith, Sir, without telling you a word of a
lie, you know as much of her as I do..
How?
VALENTINE..
FRONTIN.
I'll be fworn I know the original of that
picture no better than you.
VALENTINE.
And it was not you that put it here?
FRONTIN.
Devil take me if it was.
VALENTINE.
How then could you give me ſuch ideas of her
FRON-
162
NARCISSUS: OR,
FRONTIN.
You furniſhed me with them yourſelf. Can
any thing in the world be more ridiculous!
VALENTINE.
What, fhan't I difcover where this portrait
came from! The difficulty and the myſtery ex-
cite my curiofity ftrangely; for I must confefs
that I am actually in love with the object.
FRONTIN (afide.)
Well this is admirable! He is fallen in love
with himſelf.
VALENTINE.
And yet Angelica, the charming Angelica
Well, in reality I know nothing of the
ftate-of my heart; I must have a fight of this
new mistress, before I determine abfolutely on
my marriage.
FRONTIN..
How, Sir! You will not furely-I ſee you:
are in jeſt.
VALENTINE.
No, I tell you very feriously, that I cannot
give my hand to Angelica; this uncertainty in.
my fentiments would be an obſtacle to our mu-
tual happineſs. I cannot marry her to day;
that is a point refolved on.
FRONTIN.
Yes, with you. But the good old gentle-
man, your father, hath alfo his little refolu-
tions apart, and is perhaps the laft man in the
world to give them up in complaiſance to·
others..
VALENTINE
I must find her out, be the confequence
what it will. Come, Frontin, make hafte, let
us make a thorough fearch: we muſt find her..
FRONTIN
ང་
·
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
163
FRONTIN.
Come, Frontin, make hafte; ay, fly I war-
rant ye. Let us take an inventory of all the
pretty girls in Paris. A fine lift we fhall have,
truly! The peruſal of ſuch a book would never
fet one to fleep.
VALENTINE.
Come, come, make hafte and dreſs me.
FRONTIN.
Yes, fir, but in the mean time,. very oppor-
tunely here comes your father. Let him make
one of the party.
VALENTINE.
How unlucky is
Silence, you scoundrel.
this!
SCEN E IV.
LISIMON, VALENTINE, FRONTIN,
LISIMON.
Well, fon.
VALENTINE.
Frontin, a chair for my father.
LISIMON.
I had rather ſtand. I have but a word or twe
to ſay.
VALENTINE.
Indeed, fir, 1 cannot hear them till you
pleaſe to be feated.
LISIMON.
But I don't chufe to be feated.
What the
devil means the impertinent fop in ftanding
thus upon compliments with his father?
VALENTINE.
Sir, the refpect which is due to
LISIMON.
164
NARCISSUS: OR,
LISIMON.
The reſpect due to me fhould confift in being
obedient, and not being troublefome. But
how is all this? What not dreffed yet? and
that upon your wedding-day? This is mighty
pretty! What I fuppofe you have not yet vifited
Angelica!
VALENTINE.
I fhall juſt finiſh my head, and fhall drefs
myſelf immediately to pay my refpects to her.
LISIMON.
Does it require all this apparatus to tie up
your hair and put on your coat? Zounds,
when I was a young fellow, we made better
úſe of our time; and inſtead of lofing three parts
of the day in taking turns before the looking
glaſs, had a better method of getting into the
good graces of the ladies.
VALENTINE.
And yet, fir, it ſeems to me that a perſon de-
firous of being beloved, cannot take too much
pains to render himſelf amiable, and that a lo-
ver attentive to pleaſe, fhould never appear in
the garb of a floven.
LISIMON.
Mere nonſenſe. A little negligence becomes
a lover. The women are better pleaſed with
our impatience than with our throwing away
our time at the toilette; and without affecting
fo much delicacy in drefs, we ought to have it
in the heart. But all this is nothing to the pur-
poſe. I have a defign to defer your marriage
till the arrival of Leander, in order that he may
have the fatisfaction of being prefent, and that
I might have the pleaſure of ſeeing you and
your fifter married on the fame day.
VALEN
THE SELF-ADMIRER. 165
VALENTINE. (Afide to Frontin.)
Frontin, is not this lucky?
FRONTIN.
Oh yes, fir, the delay of marriage is always
fo much time gained on repentance.
LISIMON.
Well, Valentine, what fay you? It appears
to me not quite decent to marry the fifter with-
out waiting for the brother, when he is on the
road.
VALENTINE.
I fay, fir, it is moſt judiciouſly obſerved.
LISIMON.
And you are not diſpleaſed at this delay ?
VALENTINE.
My readineſs to obey your commands, fir,
will overcome every kind of reluctance.
LISIMON.
It was out of fear of diſpleaſing you, how-
ever, that I did not propofe it before.
VALENTINE.
Your will, fir, is no lefs a rule for my in-
clinations than my actions.(Afide to Frontin.)
What a good creature of a father!
LISIMON.
I am pleaſed to find you ſo tractable; and
ſhall have the merit of it at an eaſy rate;
you
for by a letter I have juft now received, Lean-
der informs me that he will be here to-day.
How! Sir!
VALENTINE.
LISIMON.
Yes, fon; and fo nothing, you fce, need
be altered.
VALENTINE.
And would you marry him, fir, the moment
of his arrival?
FRONTIN.
166
NARCISSUS: OR,
FRONTIN.
Ay! Marry a man in his boots and ſpurs!
LISIMON.
Not fo, altogether. Befides as Lucinda and
he have not as yet feen each other, it is necef-
fary they ſhould have fome little time to get ac-
-quainted. But he may be prefent at the mar-
riage of his fifter; and I have not the cruelty to
reftrain any longer the impatient defires of fo
obedient a fon as you.
But, fir-
VALENTINE.
LISIMON.
Fear nothing; I know and approve the
warmth of your paffion too much to deceive
you.
譬
​VALENTINE.
But, my good father
LISIMON.
Leave it to me, I fay, I know very well what
you are going to
VALENTINE.
But my dear fir-I-I-have reflected upon-
LISIMON.
Reflected! You reflect! I fhould never have
fufpected that. Well, fir, and pray what has
been the fubject of your fublime meditations?
VALENTINE.
The inconveniences of matrimony, fir.
FRONTIN.
A very fertile fubject, truly.
LISIMON.
A blockhead indeed may fometimes reflect,
but it is never till the folly is committed, and
paft remedy. Here again is my fon Valen-
tine.
VALEN
3
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
167
VALENTINE.
How fir! committed and paſt remedy! I am
not yet married.
LISIMON.
True, Mr. Philofopher, but you are to
know that there is no difference between my
will and my act. What I refolve on, is as good
as done. You ſhould have moralized when I
firſt propoſed the match, and you were ſo eager
for it. I fhould then have willingly liftened to
your objections. For you know very well how
good-natured I am.
FRONTIN.
Yes, yes, fir, we are all ready to do you juſ◄
tice in that refpect.
LISIMON.
But at prefent when every thing is fettled,
you are at liberty to fpeculate at leiſure; you
may indulge your reflections without any pre-
judice to your marriage.
VALENTINE.
My apprehenfions, fir, increaſe my reluc-
Think of the importance of the affair,
tance.
I entreat you, and delay it a few days.
LISIMON.
Good day to you, Valentine, you will be
married this evening, or
me.
you underſtand
How was I duped by the pretended obe-
dience of this equivocating raſcal ! [Exit.
SCENE V.
VALENTINE, FRONTIN.
VALENTINE.
Heavens! How his obftinacy diftreffes me.
FRONTIN.
$68
NARCISSUS: OR,
FRONTIN.
Yes, fir, 'tis even fo: married or difinhe-
rited. You muſt either be tied to poverty or a
woman. To be fure the preference is doubt-
ful.
VALENTINE.
Doubtful! No. My choice was before un-
certain, but my father's inflexibility hath de-
termined me.
FRONTIN.
In favour of Angelica.
VALENTINE.,
No. To the contrary.
FRONTIN.
I congratulate you, fir, on fo heroic a refo-
lution. You are determined then to ſtarve a
worthy martyr to liberty. But if you were re-
quired to marry the original of the portrait, I
ſuppoſe matrimony would not appear quite fo
terrible, ha!
VALENTINE.
No. But if my father pretends to compell
me, I believe I fhall refift his importunity with
equal obftinacy. And yet I perceive my heart
would bring me back to Angelica, if it were
attempted to force me from her.
FRONTIN.
Very tractable indeed! I fee, whether you in-
herit your father's fortune or no, you wilkin-
herit at leaft his virtues.
(He looks earnestly at the picture, and gives a loud
figh.) Ah!
VALENTINE.
FRONTIN.
What's the matter?
Since our difgrace, this portrait ſeems to me
to
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
169
to have affumed a kind of family countenance;
a certain chop-fallen-
VALENTINE.
'Tis throwing away time to liften to this im-
pertinence. We fhould by this time have been
all over Paris.
Exit haftily.
FRONTIN.
Ay, keep up to that pace and you'll foon be
the whole town over. I will go and wait the
iffue in the fnug corner of fome tavern ; that
he may think I have been upon the ſearch too,
SCENE VI.
ANGELICA, MARTHA.
MARTHA.
Ha! ha! ha! What a diverting ſcene! Who
could have thought it? O madam, what have
you loft by not being on the watch with me, to
have ſeen him fo enamoured with his own
charms!
ANGELICA.
He faw them doubtlefs with my eyes.
MARTHA.
And can you have ſtill the weakneſs to en-
tertain a paſſion for a man capable of fuch ex-
travagance ?
ANGELICA.
It appears to you then very criminal! But
what can he be reproached with more than the
common vice of his age? Think not however
that I am infenfible of this injuftice done me
by the Chevalier; I am afflicted that he ſhould
thus prefer the firft agreeable face that prefents
itſelf; and have too much love not to have
VOL. II. Misc.
Ι
fome
170
NARCISSUS: OR,
fome delicacy. Nay Valentine ſhall either
make a facrifice of his follies to me to-day, or
I fhall make a facrifice of my paffion to the dic-
tates of reaſon.
MARTHA.
I am afraid, madam, the one will be juft
as difficult as the other.
ANGELICA.
Here is Lucinda. My brother is expected
to-day. Take care that he does not fufpect
him to be her incognito till every thing be ripe
for the diſcovery.
SCENE
MARTHA.
VII.
I'll lay you a wager, madam Lucinda, you
will never gueſs what has been the effect of our
ſcheme. You will laugh moſt immoderately at
the ſucceſs of the picture.
LUCINDA.
Oh! Martha, I cannot trouble my head
about the portrait now. I have other things
to mind. My dear Angelica, I am diftracted,
ruined and undone. Now is the time I ftand
in need of all your affiftance. My father hath
juft informed me of the arrival of Leander; in-
fifting upon my receiving him as a fuitor to-
day, and to give him my hand in a week's
time.
ANGELICA.
And what is there ſo terrible in all this ?
MARTHA.
Not terrible ma'am! What, to marry a fine
young lady of eighteen, to a handfome, rich
young
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
177
+E
young fellow of twenty-two! Blefs me, it is
enough to make one tremble all over; and I am
fure there is not a young girl in all Paris come
to years of diſcretion, whom the very notion of
fuch a marriage would not throw into a fever.
LUCINDA.
I will conceal nothing from you, Angelica.
I have at the fame time juft received a letter
from Cleontes, whom I expect every moment
from Paris, to make propoſals to your father.
He conjures me to delay my marriage; in: ſhort,
he ſtill loves me. Oh, my dear friend, can
you be infenfible to the agitation of my heart?
By that friendſhip which you have ever pro-
feffed-
ANGELICA.
The more value I fet on that friendſhip, the
more I wiſh to confirm it by your marriage with
my brother. However, your happineſs, Lu-
cinda, is the firft object of my wishes; which
are more conformable to yours than you may
imagine.
LUCINDA.
Recollect your promiſes then, Lucinda, and
give Leander to underſtand that my heart never
can be his; that-
MARTHA.
Nay, madam, make no rafh declarations.
The men have fo many arts, and the women
ſo much inconftancy, that, if Leander fhould
take it into his head to make love to you, I'd
lay a wager he'd carry his point, in fpite of
your teeth.
LUCINDA.
Pray, Mrs. Martha
1 2
MARTHA.
172
NARCISSUS: OR,
MARTHA.
I would not give him above two days to fup-
plant your incognito, and that without cauſing
you the leaft regret.
LUCINDA.
Prithee, mind your own affairs-It is on
you, my dear Angelica, I rely in the midſt of
this trouble. I fhall ufe all my influence with
my father, to defer, if poffible, a marriage,
which the pre-engagement of my heart makes
me look upon with horrour.
[Exit.
ANGELICA.
Now ſhould I prevent her going to her fa-
ther; but I know Lifimon is not a man to be
moved by the folicitations of his daughter;
whoſe entreaties will only ferve to render him
the more determined on a marriage which the
as much wiſhes for as fhe ſeems to dread. If I
divert myſelf a little with her prefent uneafinefs,
it is only to render the event more agreeable,
when ſhe is undeceived. Indeed this is all the
revenge our friendſhip will permit.
MARTHA.
I'll follow her, however, madam, to pre-
vent her, if poffible, doing any thing ridiculous,
without betraying your fecret.
SCENE
ANGELICA, fola.
VIII.
What an infenfible creature am I, to amuſe
myſelf thus, when I have fo many things that
lie at my heart! Perhaps even now Valentine is
repeating his infidelity. Or perhaps, he hath
diſcovered the impofition, and out of refent-
ment
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
173
ment makes an offer of his heart to fome other
object. For men are fuch ftrange creatures,
that they never reſent any thing ſo much as
when they are in the wrong. But here he
comes; taken up in contemplation of his por-
trait.
SCENE IX.
ANGELICA, VALENTINE.
VALENTINE. (Not feeing Angelica.)
I ramble about without knowing where to
look for this charming object. Oh! that love
- would direct me in the fearch !
ANGELICA. (Afide.)
Ungrateful creature! He directs you but too
well.
VALENTINE.
Thus love is always attended with its dif-
quietudes; and becauſe I am not under the fo-
licitude of making myſelf beloved, I muſt fuffer
the torment of looking in vain for a beloved
object.
ANGELICA. (Afide.)
What ftrange impertinence! How, is it
poffible to be at once ſo amiable and fo filly!
VALENTINE.
I muft ftay for the return of Frontin. He
may poffibly have been more fuccefsful. But
at the worst, Angelica loves me.
ANGELICA. (Afide.)
Ah, traitor! You are but too fenfible of my
weakneſs.
VALENTINE.
After all, 1 fhall ftand no bad chance with
her; her goodneſs of difpofition, her charms-
ANGELICA.
I 3
174
NARCISSUS: OR,`
ANGELICA. (Afide.)
He does me the honour to take up with me
at the worst.
VALENTINE.
How unaccountable are my fentiments! I
renounce the poffeffion of a charming object,
to which I find my heart at bottom fincerely
devoted. I expofe myſelf to the refentment of
my father, to run after a miftrefs, perhaps un-
worthy of my folicitude, perhaps merely ima-
ginary, and that folely at the inftigation of a
portrait dropt from the clouds, and no doubt a
flattering one. What caprice! What folly!
But then theſe caprices and follies are an amufe-
ment, a relief to an agreeable man. (He looks
at the portrait.) What graces!-What fea-
tures!-How enchanting! How divine! No,
no, Angelica muft not flatter herſelf that fhe
çan bear any compariſon with ſuch beauty.
ANGELICA. (Snatching the portrait out of his
hand.)
$
To be fure I fhall not pretend to it. But
pray let me fhare in your admiration of it. A
fenfe of the charms of my rival, will mitigate
at leaſt the disgrace of my defeat.
O Heavens !
VALENTINE.
ANGELICA.
Well, fir, what have you to fay? You feem
.confounded. I did not think a petit-maitre
could have been fo eafily put out of counte-
nance.
VALENTINE.
Cruel Angelica! But you know the afcen-
dant you have over me, and therefore may in-
fult me without reply.
ANGELICA,
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
175
ANGELICA.
To be fure I am greatly in the wrong and
of right doubtlefs, you fhould reproach me.
Come, fir, I will have pity on your embaraff-
ment. There is your portrait; and I am the
lefs diſpleaſed to find you are in love with the
original, as my ſentiments are in that reſpect
perfectly agreeable to yours.
VALENTINE.
How! Do you know the perſon of the ori-
ginal?
ANGELICA.
I not only know, but can affure you I love
that perſon better than any other in the world.
VALENTINE.
Indeed! That's new to me, and the lan-
guage fomething fingular too in the mouth of a
rival.
ANGELICA.
I know nothing of that; but what I lay is
very fincere.It he is piqued, I triumph.
(Afile.)
VALENTINE.
She has then a great deal of merit, you fay.
ANGELICA.
It depends only on herſelf to have an infinite
deal.
VALENTINE.
What! No faults at all!
ANGELICA.
Oh! yes, a great many. It is a little,
whimfical, capricious, fickle, flighty thing;
whofe vanity is infupportable. But what of
that? She is amiable notwithstanding all this;
and I can foretell already that you will love
this giddy creature as long as you live.
I 4
VALEN-
176
NARCISSUS: OR,
VALENTINE.
And you confent to it-Ha!
ANGELICA.
Yes.
VALENTINE.
And are not diſpleaſed at it?
No.
ANGELICA.
VALENTINE. (Afide.)
Her indifference diftracts me.
(To Ange-
lica aloud.) And may I flatter myſelf you will
renew your acquaintance with her in my fa
vour?
ANGELICA.
I defire nothing more ardently.
VALENTINE. (in a tone of anger and refentment.)
You fay all this with a tranquillity that
charms me.
ANGELICA.
How! You just now complained of my rail-
lery, and now are angry at my indifference.
There is no knowing how to deal with you.
VALENTINE. (Afide.)
I ſhall burft with fpleen.(Aloud to Ange-
lica.) Will you do me the favour, madam, to
bring me acquainted with the lady?
ANGELICA.
This is not a piece of fervice I am fure
you expected of me; but I will be better than
your expectations for once, and promiſe you I
will.
VALENTINE.
It must be in a fhort time.
ANGELICA.
Perhaps this very day.
VALEN
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
177
VALENTINE.
I can no longer contain myſelf. (Going out.)
ANGELICA. (Afide.)
This is a good omen: he hath too much
anger not to have more love. (Calling after
him.) Where are you going, Valentine?
VALENTINE.
I ſee my company is diſagreeable, madam,
and therefore was going out.
ANGELICA..
Oh! no, I am juſt going myſelf; it is not
fair to drive you out of your own apartments.
VALENTINE.
Go then, and remember that thoſe who have
no love themſelves, deſerve not to be loved by
others.
ANGELICA.
And yet it is better to have no love at all,
than to be in love with one's ſelf.
CENE X.
VALENTINE, folus.
In love with one's felf! Is it a crime to fet a
juſt value on one's own accompliſhments? I am
however greatly mortified. Is it poffible for
her to give up fuch a lover as I am without
concern? One would think ſhe looks upon me
as an ordinary perfon. It is in vain to diſguiſe
the trouble I feel, and indeed I am almoſt afraid
to love her after this proof of her inconftancy.
But-No-my whole heart is at preſent taken
up in the contemplation of this charming ob-
ject. I will renew my fearch, and to the care
of enfusing my own happineſs, add that of ex-
15
ciling
178
NARCISSUS: OR,
citing the jealouſy of Angelica. Oh! here is
Frontin.
SCEN E XI.
VALENTINE, FRONTIN, drunk.
FRONTIN.
What the devil, can't I walk upright yet?
Come, chear up.
VALENTINE.
Well, Frontin, have you found
FRONTIN.
Oh! yes, fir.
VALENTINE.
Heav'ns! is it poffible?
FRONTIN.
But I have taken a world of trouble.
VALENTINE.
Well, come, tell me where?
FRONTIN.
I have run about among all the taverns in
this part of the town.
The taverns !
Ľ
VALENTINE.
FRONTIN.
But I have fucceeded beyond my expecta-
tions.
VALENTINE.
Tell me then; how was it?
It was a-a-a
FRONTIN.
VALENTINE.
What the devil is this vile animal muttering
about?
FRONTIN
THE SELF-ADMIRER. 179
FRONTIN.
Stay, fir, ftay; let me tell you in method
and order.
VALENTINE.
Silence, you drunken rafeal; or give me a
direct answer about the original of the por-
trait.
FRONTIN.
Oh, ay, the original. True. Rejoice, Sir,
rejoice, good news I fay.
Well.
VALENTINE.
FRONTIN.
It was neither at the White-Crófs, nor at the
Golden Lion, nor at the Pine-Apple, nor-
VALENTINE.
When will you ſpeak to the purpoſe, raſcal?
FRONTIN.
Patience, Sir, patience; as it was not there,
it muft of courfe be elfewhere; and-Oh,
never fear but I fhall come to it-I fhall come
to it.
VALENTINΕ.
I have a good mind to knock the fellow on
the head. I cannot bear him any longer.
SCENE XII.
FRONTIN, folus.
To be fure, I am a very pretty fellow.
This floor is devilifh rough. Where was I
Faith I am quite out. Ah! if I did but
I 6
SCENE
180
NARCISSUS: OR,
SCENE XIII.
LUCINDA, FRONTIN,
LUCINDA.
Frontin, where is your mafter?
FRONTIN.
Gone in ſearch of himſelf.
LUCINDA.
In fearch of himſelf!
FRONTIN.
Ay, to be married to himſelf.
LUCINDA.
What's the meaning of this nonſenſe?
FRONTIN.
Nonſenſe! What you don't underſtand it
then?
No, truly.
LUCINDA.
FRONTIN.
Faith nor I neither; I will explain it to you,
however, if you pleaſe.
LUCINDA.
What will you explain what you don't un-
derſtand yourſelf?
FRONTIN.
Oh! Madam, I have been at college.
LUCINDA.
You have been at the tavern I believe.
He's
certainly drunk. Come, Frontin, collect your
fenfes a little; and endeavour to make yourſelf
underſtood.
FRONTIN.
Nothing in the world is more eaſy. Stay.
The
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
181
The portrait that you metamor-no, not me-
tamor-yes, metamorphofed. That is to fay
my mafter,
that is I mean a young lady,-
between whom you made fuch a mixture
I found it all out-you could not impoſe upon
me. Ha!-Can any body ſpeak more plainly?
LUCINDA.
Oh no, 'tis impoffible.
FRONTIN.
Every body else but my mafter can under-
ftand me: but he is fallen in love with his own
picture.
LUCINDA.
What! without knowing it.
FRONTIN.
Yes, and that is what makes it fo extraor
dinary.
LUCINDA.
#
I comprehend all the reft. But who could
foreſee that? Run quickly, good Frontin, fly,
and find out your mafter: tell him I have fome
thing of the utmoft confequence to communi-
cate to him. But take particular care not to
let him know any thing of your fufpicions.
Hold: there's fomething for you
FRONTIN.
(Gives him money.)
To drink, Madam; is it not?
LUCINDA.
Oh, no, you have no occafion for drink.
FRONTIN.
By way of huſh-money, then.
دگر
SCENE
182
NARCISSUS: OR,
SCEN E XIV.
LUCINDA, fola.
I will not heſitate a moment, but confefs the
whole, whatever be the confequence; I cannot
bear a brother fo dear to me ſhould make him-
felf ridiculous, by the very means that were
employed to cure him. How unhappy am I?
I have difobliged my brother; my father, irri-
tated by my reluctance to be married, is only
the more abſolute: my lover is abſent, and in
no condition to relieve me. I am afraid of
being betrayed by my friend, and the ftrata-
gems of a man I cannot bear; for I certainly
hate Leander, and ſhould prefer death to being
married to him.
SCEN E XV.
ANGELICA, LUCINDA, MARTHA.
ANGELICA.
Come, come, comfort yourfelf, Lucinda;
(Leander will do you no great hurt. I muſt con-
feſs, however, that he was defirous of feeing you
without your knowing it.
LUCINDA.
Alas! fo much the worfe.
ANGELICA.
But do you know that his behaviour was
none of the moſt civil on the occafion?
MARTHA.
Oh only a little vein of family humour.
Lu-
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
183
LUCINDA.
Good God! how provoking you are! well,
after he faw me, what did he fay?
ANGELICA.
He ſaid he ſhould be very forry to have you
againſt your conſent.
MARTHA.
He even faid your repugnance to him gave
him fome pleaſure. But he faid this with a co-
mical air
LUCINDA.
This mode of obedience is certainly not very
polite.
MARTHA.
To be polite with other women, it is not
neceffary to be always fo very obedient.
ANGELICA.
The only condition of his renunciation is,
that you receive his vifit of leave.
LUCINDA.
Oh no. I fhall excufe him that ceremony.
ANGELICA.
Nay, but you cannot refuſe him that. Be-
fides, I engaged for you that you ſhould do it.
And indeed I muſt acquaint you, in confidence,
that he depends greatly on the ſucceſs of that
interview; flattering himſelf that, when you
have ſeen him, you will have no objection to
his alliance.
LUCINDA.
He must have a confiderable ſhare of vanity,
then.
MARTHA.
He conceives he fhall be able to captivate
you.
ANGELICA.
And it is in confequence of this expectation
that
{
184
NARCISSUS: OR,
that he has confented to the treaty I propofed.
MARTHA.
I'll answer for it he would not have accept-
ed the bargain, but that he was very fure you
would not take him at his word.
LUCINDA.
He muſt be ſurely an infupportable block-
head. Well, he need but make his appear-
ance; I long to fee how he will difplay his
charms: and I will give you my word it fhall
be with an air- Let him come; let him
come; he wants a lecture, and depend upon
it he ſhall receive an inſtructive one.
ANGELICA.
Well we ſhall fee, my dear Lucinda, but we
do not always abide by our refolutions; I would
venture to lay a wager he will ſoften
MARTHA.
you.
Ah! theſe men are monftrouſly artful; you
will fee he will win upon you.
LUCINDA.
Make yourſelf eaſy about that.
ANGELICA.
Well, look to yourſelf. You cannot fay
we did not caution you.
MARTHA.
Ay, it is not our fault, if you fuffer yourſelf
to be ſurpriſed.
LUCINDA.
Well, really I believe you will make me
crazy between you.
ANGELICA, (to Martha.)
We have worked her up to the pitch.-
Aloud to Lucinda.) Well, fince you will have
it fo, MARTHA will go and introduce him.
Eva
THE SELF-ADMIRER. 185
What's that?
LUCINDA.
MARTHA.
We only left him in the anti-chamber, Ma-
dam. He will be here in a moment.
LUCINDA.
(Exit.
Oh! that my dear Cleontes were here, that
he might fee in what manner I receive his ri-
val!
SCENE
XVI.
ANGELICA, LUCINDA, MARTHA, LEANDER.
ANGELICA.
Come in, Leander, and know Lucinda's
fentiments from herſelf. She imagines ſhe
hates you, and is doing herſelf violence to give
you a bad reception: but I will anſwer for it,
that all thofe appearances of hatred are in fact
fo many proofs of her love for you.
LUCINDA (turning her head away from Leander.)
On that fuppofition, he muſt be highly in
favour indeed. Contemptible!
ANGELICA.
Lucinda! Doth your refentment get the.
better of your manners, child? Don't you
look at the gentleman?
LEANDER.
If it be my paffion which excites your re-
fentment, behold a criminal indeed. (Falling
on his knees to Lucinda.)
LUCINDA.
Ah! Cleontes! Provoking Angelica !
LE-
186
NARCISSUS: OR,
畿
​LEANDER.
+
Leander hath difpleafed you too much for me
to hope, to receive under that name, the fa-
vours I experienced under that of Cleontes.
But, if the motive of my diſguiſe may juſtify
the effect of it, you will pardon the delicacy of
an heart, whoſe weakneſs was the defire of being
beloved folely for its own fake.
LUCINDA.
Rife, Leander. An excefs of delicacy can
offend only thofe who are themfelves deftitute
of it. Mine is fully fatisfied with this proof
of yours, as yours ought to be with its fuccefs.
But, as for you, my dear Angelica, how could
you have the cruelty thus to amuſe yourſelf with
my diftreffes?
ANGELICA.
You, certainly, have great reaſon to com-
plain. You are both happy, while I am fub-
jected to a thouſand anxieties.
LEANDER.
And have you, my dear fifter, been labour-
ing for my happiness, while your own hath
been at ftake? This is fuch goodness as I fhall
never forget.
(He kiffes her hand.
SCENE XVII.
LEANDER, VALENTINE, ANGELICA, LU-
CINDA, MARTHA.
VALENTINE, obferving Leander and Angelica.
So-So-Nay, let not my prefence lay you
under any restraint. I find, I did not know,
Madam, the full extent of your conquefts.
་
I
was
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
787
T
was a ſtranger to the happy object of your pre-
ference; and ſhall have the mortification to re-
member that after having been fo long your
faithful votary, Valentine hath been the perfon
moft injured.
ANGELICA.
It will be better fo than you imagine; in
fact, you ftand in need of a leffon or two of
modefty.
VALENTINE.
How, Madam, do you join raillery to infult?
Have you the effrontery to applaud yourſelf for
what you ought to bluſh at?
ANGELICA.
Oh, Sir, if you are angry, I leave you:
I am not fond of being abuſed.
VALENTINE.
I
No, Madam, you ſhall ſtay if you pleaſe;
will have the fatisfaction of being witnefs to
your confufion.
ANGELICA.
Well, Sir, enjoy that fatisfaction.
eni
VALENTINE.
For I hope you have not the affurance to at-
tempt your juſtification.
ANGELICA,
You need not fear it.
VALENTINE.
And that you don't flatter yourſelf, I retain
the ſmalleſt fentiments in your favour.
ANGELICA.
My opinion on that fubject will make no
difference in the thing.
VALENTINE.
I proteſt to you, I am determined for the fu-
ture to hate you.
AN-
A
188
NARCISSUS: OR,
✔
Very well, Sir.
ANGELICA.
VALENTINE, (taking out the portrait.)
And this fhall be the only object of my af-
fection.
ANGELICA.
You are much in the right of it, Sir; and I
proteſt to you, that I have an attachment to this
gentleman (turning to her brother) by no means
inferior to yours for the original of that por-
trait.
VALENTINE.
Ungrateful woman! Death is then my only
refuge.
ANGELICA.
A word with you, Valentine. I really pity
your fituation. But you must confefs that you
are the moſt unjuſt of mankind, to take fire at
an apparent inconftancy; of which you your-
felf have fet me the example: but my good
nature is ftill greater than your extravagance.
VALENTINE.
You will fee, fhe will do me the favour to
forgive me?
ANGELICA.
Why really you do not deferve it. I will
tell you, however, upon what conditions I may
be brought to do it. You have heretofore
profeffed fentiments for me, to which I made
too tender a return for fuch ingratitude. You
have, nevertheless, injured me by conceiving
an extravagant and fantaſtical paffion, at fight
of a mere picture; with all the levity, and I
will add folly, of your age and character. We
are not now to examine whether I ought to
have imitated your behaviour, nor does it be-
come
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
189
come you who are guilty, to cenfure my conduct.
VALENTINE.
Not become me! Good God!
But let us
fee what all this fine difcourfe tends to.
ANGELICA.
It tends to this. I told you I knew the ob-
ject of your new paffion, and that was true. I
added that I loved that object tenderly, and this
was but too true. In avowing its merit, I did
not diſguiſe its faults. I did more; I promifed
to bring you acquainted with that object. And
I now give you my word to do it this very day,
even this very hour: for I can affure you, it
is much nearer you than you imagine.
VALENTINE.
What am I to underſtand by all this?
ANGELICA.
Pray, don't interrupt me. The truth, in ·
fine, obliges me to ſay again that perſon ar-
dently loves you, and I can anſwer for fuch
attachment as well as for my own. It is now
your
buſineſs to make choice between that ob-
ject and me, of the perfon on whom you are
determined to beftow all your tenderneſs.
Chufe, Chevalier, but chufe immediately, and
that for ever.
MARTHA.
A pleaſant alternative this!
my gentleman is embarraffed!
How devilishly
Be ruled by
me, Sir, take the portrait, and you will be fure
to have no rivals.
LUCINDA.
Oh! Valentine, is it neceffary to hefitate ſo
long, to follow the dictates of your heart?
VALENTINE, (throwing the picture away, and
kneeling to Angelica.)
The
190 ·
NARCISSUS: OR,
The conflict is over-you have conquered, -
my dear Angelica, and I feel how much inferiour
the fentiments which ariſe from caprice are to
thoſe which are inſpired by a love for you.
(Martha picks up the portrait, and gives it to
Angelica.) But alas! tho' my heart returns to
you, may I flatter myſelf it will recover yours ?.
·
ANGELICA.
You may judge of my acknowledgments
by the facrifice you have made me. Rife, Va-
lentine, and contemplate theſe features.
(Holding out the portrait.)
LEANDER, (looking alfo on the portrait.)
Sure I ſhould know that face !—
Yes, faith it is it is he himſelf.
He! who?
VALENTINE.
-Hold---
You mean fhe. It is a wo-
man, whom I renounce together with the
whole fex, and that for ever in favour of An-
gelica.
ANGELICA.
Yes, Valentine; it has been a mere woman
hitherto but I hope for the future to find him
a man, fuperiour to all thofe little foibles which
degrade his fex and character.
VALENTINE.
You furprize me ſtrangely.
ANGELICA.
You ought the lefs to be ignorant of this
object, as you have had the moſt intimate con-
nection with it, and certainly cannot be ac-
cuſed of having neglected it. Take away but
that effeminate drapery, by which your fifter
hath diſguiſed it, and you will fee it is
VALENTINE.
Myſelf? Heavens! what do I fee?
7
MAR-
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
191
MARTHA.
Is it not plain?. You here fee the portrait,
and there the original.
VALENTINE.
I fhall die with fhame.
MARTHA.
You are the firft perfon of the character,
perhaps, that ever knew what ſhame was. (Afide.)
ANGELICA.
Ungrateful man! Was I wrong to ſay I loved
the original of this picture?
VALENTINE.
I will love it for the future, only becauſe it
loves you.
ANGELICA.
To confirm our reconciliation, I am fure,
you will have no objection to my preſenting to
you my brother Leander.
Permit me, Sir
LEANDER.
VALENTINE.
Oh heavens! this is the fummit of felicity;
and was not Angelica falfe when I was un-
grateful?
LUCINDA.
In taking part with your happineſs, brother,
my own is augmented.
SCENE XVIII.
LISIMON, FRONTIN, with the perfons of the
foregoing feene.
LISIMON.
Hah! I fee you are all met together very
op-
192
NARCISSUS: OR,
opportunely. You, Valentine and Lucinda,
having refuſed to marry agreeable to my in-
clinations, I at firft intended to compel you;
but I have reflected that it is fometimes necef-
ſary to act the part of a good father, and that
conſtraint does not always make happy mar-
riages. I have, therefore, determined to break
off all the former connections, and to enter
upon new ones. I will marry Angelica my-
felf. Lucinda fhall go into a convent; Va-
lentine fhall be difinherited: and as to you,
Leander, you muſt have patience.
MARTHA.
Excellently well determined! faith!
LISIMON.
How's this? You all look confounded.
FRONTIN.
I'll be hang'd if any of them can open their
lips. Plague take all fooliſh lovers, I fay.
LISIMON.
Come, come, now you know my mind, and
have nothing to do but to conform to it.
LEANDER.
Hold, Sir, hold; condefcend to delay
your ſentence a little. Don't you read repen-
tance in the looks and perplexity of the offen-
ders? And would you involve the innocent in
the fame puniſhment?
LISIMON.
Well, I will be fo weak as to make another
trial of their obedience. Let us fee. Come,
Mr. Valentine, do you ftill make your reflec-
tions on matrimony?
VALENTINE.
Yes, Sir. But inftead of its inconveniences,
I ſee nothing in that ſtate but happineſs.
LISIMON;
I
THE SELF-ADMIRER.
193
LISIMON.
Oh ho! You have chang'd your note, I
fee. And you Mrs. Lucinda, are you ſo fond
'of liberty ſtill?
LUCINDA.
I am fenfible, the lofs of it, Sir, muſt be
pleafing, when our duty requires it to be
given up.
LISIMON.
Ay, now you talk like reaſonable creatures.
Now you give me pleaſure. Let me embrace
my children; come, we will haften to the cele-
bration of your happy nuptials. A little exertion
´of authority, I fee, is fometimes very proper.
VALENTINE.
Well, my fair Angelica; you have cured me
of a foible, which was the difgrace of my
youth and for the future I hope to experience
in your fociety, that when we truly love an
other, we ceaſe to be fond of ourſelves.
THE ENDI
VOL. II. MISC.
THE
VILLAGE CONJURER.
AN INTERLUD E.
Repreſented before his Majefty at Fontaine-
bleau, on the 18th and 24th of October 1752.
And at Paris, by the Royal Academy of Mu-
fick, on Thurſday the firſt of March, 1753.
波波
​K 2
·
[ 197 ]
TO
MR. DU CLOS,
Hiftoriographer of France, one of the
Forty Members of the French Academy,
and Member of the Academy of Belles
Lettres.
ERMIT me, Sir, to place your · name
PERM
at the head of a work, which, without-
your patronage, had never been repreſented or
made public.. May this my first and only De-
dication, do as much honour to you as it does
to myſelf.
I am, Sir,
Your very humble:
and moſt obedient Servant,-
J. J. ROUSSEAU..
PERSONS of the DRAMA.
COLIN,
10
Mr. Jelyote.
COLINET,
Mademoiſelle Fel
The CONLURER,
Mr. Cuvillier.
Young Villagers of both Sexes.
[ 199 ]
THE
VILLAGE CONJURER.
AN INTERLUDE.
The Theatre repreſents, on one Side, the
Houſe of the Conjurer: On the other, Trees
and Fountains. A View of a Hamlet in the
Front.
SCENE I.
Enter COLINET, fighing and wiping her
A
her Apron.
LAS! inconftant Colin's flown,
And in tears hath left to moan
Unhappy Colinet!
Bewail I muſt the fickle youth,
Whom loft to me, to love and truth,
I would, but can't forget.
K 4
eyes with
Yes,
200 The VILLAGE CONJURER
Yes, inconftant Colin's flown,
And in tears hath left to moan
Unhappy Colinet.
He lev'd me once, unhappy me!
But now fome fairer maid prefers ;
Who like myſelf will flighted be;
And my complaint in turn be hers..
But about my wretched fate
Wherefore fhould I thus debate,
Since it only makes me fret?
Yes, inconftant Colin's flown,
And in tears hath left to moan.
Unhappy Colinet.
I ought to hate him
and I will
But perhaps he loves me ftill:
For why ſhould now the lover fly,..
Who was once for ever nigh?
I'll afk the cunning man who here doth dwell;
He reads the ſtars, and can my fortune tell
Oh! here he comes alone-that happens well.
SCENE II.
The CONJURER and COLINET.
}
While the Conjurer flowly advances forward,
Colinet counts out fome money into her hand, then
wraps it up in a piece of paper, and going up to
him, offers it with much hesitation..
COLIE
The VILLAGE CONJURER. 201
COLINET, with an air of great timidity.
Say, will Colin always fly
Tell me if I'm doom'd to die.
The CONJURER, with an affected folemnity-
I'Colin's heart and alſo thine have read,
COLINET.
Oh! Heavens !-
CONJURER,
Have patience.
COLINET.
What, when Colin's fled ?:
CONJURER.
Colin unfaithful
COLINET.
Colinet will kill.
CONJURER..
And yet, believe me, Colin loves you ftill
COLINET, eagerly. -
How fay you? what
CONJURER. -
Our Manor-lady's charms..
An artful woman
COLINET.
Wins him from my arms
CONJURER.
Already I've declar'd he loves you till.
COLINET, forrowfully.
And yet he ſhuns me.
CONJURER.
Truft my magic ſkills´·
I the rover will reclaim,
Whoſe vanity's alone to blame;
Gaudy drefs and rich attire
Set his giddy heart on fire. -
K.5
But
202 The VILLAGE CONJURER.
But his love fhall foon repair
All your wrongs, and footh your care..
COLINET.
Had not I to the youth of the city,
So proud all around me to bow,
Been deaf when they ſaid I was pretty,
I ſhould have had fuitors enow.
Bedizen'd in richeſt array,
With ribbands, and flounces, and lace,
I might have gone gallant and gay,
As fine as the beſt in the place..
But I, for a falfe-hearted ſwain,
Have all their fine offers defpis'd;
Lefs handſome content to remain,
To be true to the man that I priz’d..
CONJURER.
His heart fhall be reclaim'd: that taſk is.
mine;
The better to preſerve it, muſt be thine,
If his paffion you'd augment,
You muſt feign your own declines ;.
Love decays beneath content,
And increaſes as it pines.
Hence the nymph's coquetiſh vein
Conftant makes the roving fwain.
COLINET.
By your advice I'm led, now wifer grown.
CONJURER.
Affume with Colin, then, a different tone.
COLINET.
The VILLAGE CONJURER. 203
COLINET.
I will; and by his conduct guide my own.
CONJURER.
Not fo in fact, but fo that he
The quaint deception may not fee.
But, hold; my art informs me Colin's
near;
Be thou at hand, and when I call, appear..
SCENE III.
CONJURER, folus.
Theſe lovers in fimplicity impart
What they conceive I gather from my art;
And then admiring ftand, while I unfold,
With ſkill profound, what they before have told:
I, by their means, my full revenge will take;
Colin his haughty lady fhall forfake;
Who, feeing him to Colinet return,
With jealous rage and fhame, in vain, will.
burn.
على
SCENE IV.
CONJURER, and COLIN.
COLIN.
Love and your good advice have made me wife;
For Colinet, I all the world defpife.
She lov'd me when a fhepherd's frock I wore;
And in embroider'd fuits what can fhe more?
K. 6
Cone-
204 The VILLAGE CONJURER.
CONJURER.
Colin, 'tis now too late, for Colinet,
Hath quite forgot you
COLIN.
Heav'ns ! and can ſhe change?
CONJURER.
•
No woman young and pretty fail'd e'er yet...
On an inconftant fwain to take revenge,
COBIN..
If my Colinet deceive me,
Plighted were my vows in vaing
No, the never fure can leave me,,
Never love another ſwain..
CONJURER.
True, Colinet prefers no other clown ;
But fome fine lord or gentleman from town-
COLIN.
Who told
you
this?
CONJURER:
My art hath found it out.
COLIN.
Then of the truth, alas! there is no doubt
How dear my-late inconftancy will coſt,
If. Colinet I have for ever loft!
CONJURER.
Doubtless, it ſomething cofts to go fo fine:
But love and riches different ways incline...
COLIN.
{
The VILLAGE CONJURER. 205
COLIN.
Let me intreat you then the means impart
To fhun my ruin
CONJURER..
I'll confult my art. .
The conjurer takes a book out of his pocket, and
with his wand.makes a circle. While he is thus
employed, the young peasants come in to confult him;
but, affrighted at his contorfions, let fall their pre-
fents and run away..
CONJURER.
The charm is done: and Colinet is near,
Wait till ſhe comes,
COLIN
Alas! but will fhe hear,,
If I ſhould fue to ſoften her diſdain ?
CONJURER.
A faithful heart may favour hope to gaini
But now, young fhepherd; I must leave ye..
(Afide.) To prepare her to receive ye.
SCENE V
COLIN, folus.
Now my dream of grandeur's o'ery.
Riches fhall ne'er tempt me more ;
Let but Colinet be true;
Welcome her, and wealth adieu,
206 The VILLAGE CONJURER.
.
If my tears and fighs may move
Colinet again to love,
All the joys I knew before
She to Colin will reſtore.
When love we can feel and impart,
'Tis all that is wanting below;
Then, Colinet, give me thy heart,.
For Colin's was thine long ago.
My pipe,, crook, and ſcrip by my fide,
My whole future grandeur fhall be;
My Colinet's favours my pride,
And her fmiles worth a kingdom to me.
To lords and fine folks of the town
If the but thofe favours deny,
In ſpite of their wealth and renown,.
They'll not be ſo happy, as I.
SCEN E VI..
COLIN, COLINET gaily dreſſed..
COLIN, afide.
I'fee her coming; but I dread to ſtay,.
And yet I loſe her, if I flink away..
COLINET, afide..
He fees me how my Autt'ring heart doth
beat!
COLIN, afide.
What ails me.!
COLI
The VILLAGE CONJURER. 207
}
COLINET, afide.
How! fo near! I can't retreat.
COLIN, afide.
I cannot fhun her, and muft therefore meet.
He speaks to Colinet in a pathetic tone, half
filing, yet embarraſſed..
COLIN.
Ah! why from Colin turn with ſuch diſdain ?-
Hath not my shepherdefs one look for me?
COLINET.
No. Colin lov'd and was a faithful fwain;
I look on you, but ah! you are not he.
COLIN.
My heart is ſtill the fame, tho' led aftray,
•
By fome bewitching and malicious ſpright;
Whofe charm our good magician taught to
fway;
I'm Colin ftill, and you my fole delight.
COLINET.
I, in my turn, by magick too am ſway'd,,
Above his art
COLIN.
Then I am wretched made.
COLINET.
My new admirer's conftant
COLIN.
Oh! 'tis death!
Your falfehood.
COLI-
208 The VILLAGE CONJURER:
COLINET.
Nay forbear this waſte of breath.
Shepherd, give complaining o'er,
I can never love you more.
COLIN.
Who by force your hand can take?`
Better, then, confult your heart;
For if mine be doom'd to break,
Thine will feel as grievous ſmart.
COLINET.
·
No. No. Alas! you've once deceiv'd,,
And never more can be believ❜d.
COLIN.
Is't then determin'd you would have me die?
Far from this hamlet will poor Colin fly.
(Colin moves flowly away, on which Colinet calls -
him back.)
COLINET..
Colin
COLIN...
Well!
COLINET
Go you hence?
COLIN.
What ſhall I ſtay,
To fee you to another lover ftray?
COLINET.
When Colin I knew how to pleafe,.
I look'd on my fortune as bleft.
3
COLIN.
$
The VILLAGE CONJURER. 209
COLIN.
While my ſhepherdefs lov'd, at my eafe
Eliv'd, and my heart was at reft.
COLINET.
But foon as my love he deſpis'd,.
I favour'd a faithfuller fwain;
COLIN.
Since broken the fetters I priz'd,
No joys for poor Colin remain.
(In a pathetic tone,》
Ah! Colinet! and muft we part?
COLINET.
I dread a wild, inconftant. heart.
Both together:
Come then, difengag'd and free,.
Let us mutually agree,
To forget, if that can be,
I lov'd you, or you lov'd me.
COLIN:
And yet, tho' wealth and beauty join'd,,
Lately tempting, wak'd my pride;
To Colinet my heart inclin'd,
I all the world defpis'd befide.
COLINET.
Tho' to day a noble youth.
Vow'd and fwore eternal truth,
Colin I preferr'd by far
To his ribband and his ſtar.
Ah Colinet!
COLIN, pathetically.
i
}
COLIZ
210 The VILLAGE CONJURER..
COLINET, fighing.
Ah! roving fwain!
Muft my heart ftill yours remain?
(Colin kneels at the feet of Colinet, who point-
ing to a gaudy ribband which the lady had put in
his hat; he fnatches it out, and throws it away with
difdain. Colinet then gives him a plain one, which
The herself wore, and which he receives with tranf
part.)
Both together.
Oh! let the prieſt our hands unite;
While our mutual troths we plight,
From each other ne'er to ftray,
But the laws of love obey.
SCENE VIL
COLIN, COLINET, CONJURER.
CONJURER.
}
Thus freed from cruel charms, confefs my fkill,
And ſpite of envy, love each other ſtill.
1
COLIN, (while both the lovers offer the Conjurer
money.)
What prefent, for fuch fervice, can be made?:
CONJURER.
If you are happy,, I am well repaida
Hither,
The VILLAGE CONJURER. 211
Hither, lovely nymphs and fwains,
Come, and join this happy pair;
Celebrate, in fprightly ftrains,
Joys, yourſelves fhould learn to fhare.
SCENE VIII.
CONJURER, COLIN, COLINET, young lads and
laffes of the village.
CHORUS of Villagers.
Let us celebrate Colin's return
To his Colinet faithful and true;
May both with their old paffion burn,
And every day think it new.
Let us fing of our Conjurer's art,
Who knows to reclaim by his fkift ·
The wild and inconftant of heart,
And make lovers happy at will.
COLIN.
Tho' dark is my cottage and low;
While open to weather and care,
To the fun and the wind and the fnow,
It often calls out for repair;
Yet there if my fhepherdefs deigns
To refide, I ſhould feel no regret,.
But Colin the happieſt of ſwains
Will be bleft with his dear Colinet..
૭.
In
•
112 The VILLAGE CONJURER,
↑
In the fields and the meadows all day,
With pleaſure returning at eve,
I'll meet her with joy on the way,
And with kiffes her welcome receive.
Till the fun ſhall be up in the morn
I will fing of our loves with delight,
Old care and rough weather will fcorn,
While in raptures we ſpend all the night.
Here a dance..
CONJURER.
While the nymphs and fwains advance,.
Vying in the fprightly dance;
I, who cannot boaſt ſuch eaſe,
Have a fong, perhaps may pleaſe..
He takes a ballad out of his pocket, and fings.
F..
Love may help receive from art,
Tho' alone it wins the heart
Thus fine folks that lovelier be,
Love not half fo well as we.
Love is peevish oft and wild,
And while here and there it runs,
Knows not what it feeks or fhuns
For alas! 'tis but a child,-
Love is nothing but a child.
COLIN, repeats the burtheni
Love is peevish oft and wild, &c.
(Looking
The VILLAGE CONJURER. 213
(Looking at the ballad.)
That's not the end, fome other couplets fee.
COLINET, eagerly.
Ay, come, I'll fing them; Colin, give it meį
II.
Here doth love, and only here,
In fimplicity appear;
While in borrow'd charms array'd
'Tis in towns and courts diſplay'd.
Love is peevish oft and wild, &c.
This verfe repeated at the end of each Stanza.)
CHORUS.
Love is nothing but a child,
COLIN.
III.
Often is the tender famë
Cherifh'd in the faithful breaft,
Oft coquetry muft reclaim
Roving hearts to make them bleſt.
Love is peevish oft and wild, &c,
CONJURER.
IV.
Love difpoſes of mankind
As beft fuits its fickle mind,
Makes us often jealous grow,
And torments for being ſo.
Love is peevish oft and wild, &c.
While
214 The VILLAGE CONJURER.
COLIN.
V.
While from fair to fair we range,
Oft we fuffer by the change.
And as oft th' inconſtant's priz'd,
While the conſtant is defpis'd.
Love is peevish oft and wild, &c.
COLINET.
VI.
Subject to its ſtrange caprice,
Now we laugh and now we cry;
At our-
At our
(COLIN affifts her to read.)
At our frowns it will decreaſe,
COLINET.
And ev❜n from our ſmiles will fly.
Together.
Love is peevish oft and wild;
And while here and there it runs,
Knows not what it feeks and fhuns,
For, alas! 'tis but a child,
Love is nothing but a child.
CHORU S.
Love is nothing but a child.
After a dance Colinet advances.
COLINET.
Sure the object of my heart
Nought but pleaſure can impart;
While his fmiles reward my fong
Ev'ry day, and all day long.
7
Life
The VILLAGE CONJURER. 215
Life is like a joyous dream,
When our days are pafs'd in love,
Gliding like a winding ſtream
That through flowery meads doth rove.
$
Another dance.
COLINET.
Come, beneath the green-wood tree,
Chear up nymphs, and dance away;
Join'd in mirth and jollity,
Shepherds take your pipes and play.
With your lovers dance and fing
Joyous catches o'er and o’er,
Hand in hand make up the ring,
Nor alone e'er wander more.
CHORU S.
Come, beneath the green-wood tree, &c.
COLINET.
Among the fine folks of the city and court,
Who fo bleft in their love, or fo gay in their
While ſtrangers to art,
We ſpeak from the heart,
They never can be
So happy as we :
[fport?
And tho' fimple our muſick, much better our
fport
Than the concerts afford of the city or court.
CHORUS of Laffes.
Come, beneath the green-wood tree, &c.
THE EN D.
[ 217 ]
EXTRACT of a LETTER
FROM
Mr. ROUSSEAU to a FRIEND.
Written from Montmorency the 5th of April
1749, in regard to Mr. ROUSSEAU'S Freedom
of entry at the Opera; which was given him.
for his VILLAGE CONJURER; was taken from
him, on account of his Letter on the French
Mufick; and was offered to be returned him
again, after he had quitted Paris.
A
FTER having deprived me of the free-
dom of the Opera-houſe when I refid-
red at Paris, to offer it me when I am no longer
there, is to add raillery to infult. Do not thoſe
people very well know that I have neither the
means nor intention to profit by their offer?
Why the devil fhould I go fo far to hear their
opera, when I have at my very gate all the
rooks and fcrecch owls of the foreſt of Mont-
morency?
They do not refuſe, "Mr. D—** fays, te
reftore me the freedom of their houſe. I un-
VOL. II. MISC.
derſtand
L
218
EXTRACT of a LETTER from
derſtand them very well. Yes, they will re-
ftore it to me to day, in order to have the plea-
fure of giving me a ſecond affront, by taking
it away again to morrow. As no dependance
is to be made upon the word and affurances of
theſe people, who is to anſwer to me for them
and their intentions? It must certainly be
very agreeable to me to prefent myſelf at the
door of the opera, only in the expectation of
having it a ſecond time ſhut againſt me. You
will fay, perhaps, They will, for the future,
have no pretext. Pardon me, Sir, they will
never want a pretext of fome kind or other.
For whenever it be neceffary to admire the
opera, I muſt be fent about my bufinefs. Why
did they not propofe that admirable condition
in their bargain? They fhould not then have
murdered my poor Conjurer. When they have
a mind to pick a quarrel with me, is it poffible
they will want a pretence? Lying is a fertile
and never-failing refource. Have they not
charged me with making a diſturbance in the
theatre, and thence pretended that my exclu-
fion was neceffary for the preſervation of the
public peace?
In the first place, they lie. I can call to
witness the pit, and indeed the whole audience
then prefent. I never amufed myfelf in my
life in clapping or hiffing a parcel of buffoons;
and I could neither laugh nor prattle at the
French opera; for I never could have the pa-
tience to ſtay there. My ears were no fooner
faluted by their mournful pfalmody, than I
immediately took refuge in the Corridors. No
if they could but have found me at fault in
this particular, they would have taken fufficient
care
Mr. ROUSSEAU to a FRIEND.
214
.5
care I fhould not repeat it. Every one knows
how particularly I was pointed out and recom-
mended to the fentinels. A fingle word or mo-
tion, would have been fignal enough for them
to apprehend me; in the mean time, the mo-
ment 1 came into the pit, I was furrounded by
gad-flies, who endeavoured to provoke me. I
leave you to imagine if fome prudence was not
neceffary to prevent their taking any hold of
me. All their efforts, however, were in vain ;
for I have long fince faid to myſelf;
"John
James, as you have undertaken the dangerous
employ of defending the truth, be conſtantly
attentive to yourſelf; ſubmit to all laws and
rules; that when people are defirous of ill-
treating you, they may be ever in the wrong."
Would to God, I may be able to obſerve this
precept to the end of my life, as well as I have
done hitherto !
·
Thus, my good friend, I fpeak reſolutely,
and fear nothing. I am fenfible there is not a
man upon earth who can juſtly do me harm;
and with reſpect to injuftice, it is what nobody
in the world is fecured from. I am, indeed,
the moſt feeble of human beings; and every
one may infult me with impunity. I experience
that this is well known, and the infults of the
directors of the opera refemble, with regard to
me, the afs kicking the fick lion. As nothing
of all this depends on myfelf; what can I do
in it? But it is my bufinefs to fee that every
one who does ine harm, hath not juſtice on his
fide; and for this I will take upon me to an-
fwer.
In the first place, then, I fay again, they lie;
and, in the fecond place, fuppofing they had
L 2
not
220 EXTRACT of a LETTER from
2
+
not lied, they would have been in the wrong.
For, whatever harm I might be able to fay,
write, or do againſt them, they ought not to
have deprived me of the freedom of their
houfe for fince they were ftill in poffeffion of
my work, they ought to pay the price agreed on.
What then ſhould they have done? Arreft me,
traduce me before the courts; profecute me;
hang, draw, quarter me, if I had deferved it;
any thing but deprive me of the freedom of the
houfe. And by the way, if I were impriſoned
or hanged, it is very certain I fhould not go to
make a diſturbance at the opera. But they fay
farther, What harm have we done Mr.
Rouffeau, in taking from him the freedom of
our theatre, when he does not like our perfor-
mances ?" I answer, they have done me wrong,
have committed violence, injuftice and infult;
all which are harm. What, becauſe my neigh-
bour does not chufe to employ his money, is
that a reaſon why I fhould go and cut his
- purfe?
In whatſoever light I confider this thing, and
to whatever rule of juftice I apply it, I cannot
help conceiving that, if the caufe were brought
before any tribunal on earth, the directors of
the opera would be immediately condemned to
restore my piece, with reparation of damages
and cofts of fuit. But it is clear that I am in
the wrong, becauſe I cannot obtain juſtice;
and that they are in the right, becauſe they are
more powerful than I am. I defy the whole
world to allege any thing farther in their fa-
vour.
I muſt now ſpeak to you of my bookſellers;
to begin with Mr. P.I am ignorant whe-
ther
Mr. ROUSSEAU to a FRIEND, 227
ther he is a gainer or lofer by me: every time I
aſked him if my pieces fold well, as con-
ftantly answering tolerably; without my ever
being able to get any thing farther out of him.
For my firft difcourfe, he did not give me a
fingle penny, nor ever made me any kind of
prefent, except a few copies for my friends.
I agreed with him for the engraving of the
Village Conjurer, at five hundred livres; half
to be paid in books, and the other half in
money, which he laid himſelf under an ob-
ligation to pay me at feveral times, and in cer-
tain payments. He did not keep his word re-
ſpecting any one, and I was long obliged to run.
after my two hundred and fifty livres.
With regard to my bookfeller in Holland, I
have found him in every refpect, a careful, exact
and honeſt man. I asked him twenty five gui-
neas for my Difcourfe on the Inequality of Man-
kind; he gave me the fum immediately, and be-
fides, made a prefent of a gown for my go-
vernante. I afked him thirty guineas for my
Letter to Mr. d'Alembert, and he gave me them
immediately; but fent no preſent on that occa-
fion, either to me or my governante: indeed
he ought not, but he gave me a pleaſure which
I never received from Mr. P, in declaring
ingenuouſly that he had reafon to be fatisfied
with our connections.
This, my friend, is the true ſtate of the
cafe. If any one informs you otherwiſe, their
information is not true.
If thoſe, who accufe me of wanting difin-
tereſtedneſs, mean that I cannot with pleaſure
ſee myſelf deprived of the little I earn for my
fubfiftence, they are in the right; and it is evi-
L 3
dent
222
EXTRACT of a LETTER from
dent I fhall never appear difintereſted in their
eyes, till I fuffer myfelf to be ftarved to death.
If they mean that all kind of reſources are
equally indifferent to me, and that provided I
get money, trouble myfelf very little whence
r comes; I conceive they are mistaken. If I
were lefs fcrupulous about the means of ac-
quiring money, it would be lefs painful to lofe
it; and it is well known that no people are ſo
prodigal as robbers. But when I am unjustly
tiripped of what belongs to me; when the mo-
derate produce of my labour is taken from me,
the injury is ſuch as is not eaſily repaired; and
it is very had to be denied the liberty of
complaining. The good people of Paris have
long fince formed a John James after their own
imagination, and have liberally loaded him
with prefents, which the real John James of
Montmorency never had a fight of. Infirm
and fick for three quarters of the year, it is ne-
ceffary for me to earn, by the labour of the
other quarter, as much as will provide fubfift-
ence for the whole. Thoſe who get their bread
by honeft means, know the value of it, and
will not be furprized that I cannot be very la-
vish of mine. Believe me, you will have too:
much to do, if you undertake to defend me in
publick. It is fufficient that you yourſelf are.
not abfurd on my account, and that I ftill pre-
ferve your friendſhip and efteem.
I have at Paris, as well as elſewhere, fuch
fecret enemies as will never forget the injuries
they have done me; for though the perfon offend-
ed may fometimes forgive, the offender never
'does. You ſhould reflect how unequal the
party is between us. They, difperſed through-
out
Mr. ROUSSEAU to a FRIEND 223
out the world, can spread what reports of me
they pleaſe; without my being capable of
knowing them, or defending myſelf. And is
it not well known, the abfent are always to
Blame? Befides, I am fo blunt and frank, as
to break openly and immediately with fuch
people as have deceived me.
In declaring aloud and plainly, that the per-
fon, who calls himſelf my friend, is not fò,
and that I am no longer his, I advertiſe the
public to be cautious of what I may fay againſt
him. As to my adverfaries, they are not fo
artlefs as this. The decorun with which they
varniſh over their proceedings is really cu-
rious; while they gratify their malice at their
eafe, and wreak their vengeance in making a
diſplay of their generofity. Their poinard is
conveniently hid under the cloak of friendship,
and they are artful, enough to cut one's throat
while they pretend to pity one.
← Alas! poor
citizen! Yet, at the bottom, he is not a bad.
man; he has only a bad head which conducts
him as ill, as if he had a bad heart." Thus fome
obfcure words are dropt, which are preſently
picked up, commented on, and difperfed by
our puny philofophers; whilft the poifon is
prepared in fecret corners, which they undertake
to diffuſe among the public.
•
One hath the greatnefs of mind to fay a
thoufand good things of me, after having taken
meaſures to prevent any body's believing them.
Another defends me from the evil of which I
am accuſed, after having done every thing to
put the charge out of doubt. And this is im-
puted to abilities? What would
What would you have me
do againſt it? Can I hear, in my retreat, the
L 4
con
224
EXTRACT of a LETTER.
converſation which is held in polite circles
And if I did hear of it, can I go thither to dif
prove it, to reveal the fecrets of friendship
even after it is extinct? No, my dear Nieps,
one may repel the affaults of our enemies; but
when one fees, among the affaffins, the poniard
in the hand of a friend, nothing is to be done
but to hide one's head, and avoid or fuffer the
blow
A LETTER
[ 225 -]
*
A.
LETTER
FROM
Mr. ROUSSEAU,
то
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
Y t
Aug. 18th, 1756.
OUR two laft poems, Sir, reached me in
this folitude; but, though all my friends.
are acquainted with the paffion I have for your
writings, I know not from whom theſe pieces
could come, unleſs from yourſelf. I have found
in them both pleaſure and inftruction, and dif-
covered the hand of a mafter; thinking myfelf
indebted to you, at once, for the copy and the
work. I cannot fay that every part appears to
me equally good; but the things which dif
pleaſe me, ferve only to make me place greater
confidence in thoſe which give me delight. It
is not without pain I fometimes arm my reaſon
againſt the charms of your poefy; but it is with
L 5
a
226 ROUSSEAU's LETTER to
a view to render my admiration more worthy of
your works, that I thus endeavour not to ad
mire them indifcriminately.
;-
I will do more, Sir, I will tell you ingenu-
ouſly, not the beauties which I think I perceive
in your two poems; the tafk is too great for
my indolence; nor even the faults, which it is
poffible perfons of greater judgment than I,
may find in them: but the difpleaſure which at
prefent affects the tafte I have for your leffons ;
and I will tell it you, while I am ſtill moved
by a first perufal, in which my heart liftened
attentively to yours; loving you as a brother,.
honouring you as my mafter, flattering myſelf,
in fine, that you will diſcover in my intentions.
the franknefs of an ingenuous mind, and in my.
diſcourſe, the voice of a friend to truth who is
fpeaking to a philofopher. Befides, the more-
your fecond poem enchants me, the more freely
can I take part againſt the firſt. For if you
have not been afraid to oppofe yourfelf, why.
fhould I be afraid of being of your opinion?
I ought not to think you can make any great
dependence on fentiments you have fa. well re-
futed.
The whole cauſe of my complaint is in your
poem on the fatal diſaſter which hath befallen
Liſbon; becauſe I expected from it effects more
worthy of that humanity, with which you ſeem
to have been infpired. You reproach. Pope
and Leibnitz with infulting mankind under
their misfortunes, by maintaining that every
thing is good,, and expatiate fo amply on the
picture of our miferies, that you aggravate the
fenfe of them. Inftead of the confolation I
hoped for; you. have only given me affliction.
Qne
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
227
One would think you were afraid I ſhould not
fufficiently feel my own unhappinefs; and feem to
think you give me much tranquillity in proving
that every thing is evil.
Be not mistaken, Sir, the very contrary
happened to what you ſeem to have propoſed.
That optimifm, which appears to you fo cruel,
confoles me, under the very miferies which
you deſcribe as infupportable.
Mr. Pope's poem alleviates my evils, and in-
duces me to patience; yours embitters my for-
rows, excites my complaints, and, depriving.
me of every thing but a doubtful hope, reduces
me to deſpair.
Amidſt this ſtrange oppofition which fubfifts
between what you lay down and what I expe-
rience, calm the perplexity with which I am
agitated, and tell me who is miſled either by
fentiment or reafon. "Man, have patience,
fay Pope and Leibnitz : "The evils you ex-
perience are the neceffary effect of your
nature, and the conſtitution of the univerſe.
That benevolent and eternal Being which
governs, will protect you. Of all poffible fyf-
tems, he hath chofen that which contains the
leaft evil with the greateſt good; or (to fay the
fame thing more crudely, if it be neceffary) if
he hath not done better, it was becauſe it was
out of his power.
.
Now what fays your poém?
"Continue,
unhappy wretch, to fuffer. If there be a God,
who hath created you, he is,, without.doubt,
omnipotent he could have prevented all the
evils you fuffer. You must not hope, there-
fore, they will ever have an end; for we can-
L 6
not
228 ROUSSEAU's LETTER to
not fee why you exift, except to fuffer and to
die." I do not know what ſuch a doctrine can
contain more confolatory than optimiſm, or
even fatality itſelf. For my own part, I con-
feſs it appears ftill more cruel than Maniche-
ifm. If the difficulty attending the origin of
evil obliges you to alter any of the perfections
of the Deity, why would you juftify his power-
at the expence of his goodness? Were I to
chufe between the two errours, I fhould cer-
tainly prefer the former.
You would not have your work looked upon
as a poem againſt Providence; and I fhall be-
ware of calling it fuch, although you have
called a performance, in which I pleaded the
cauſe of mankind againſt themſelves, a book
written againſt mankind. I am not to learn.
that a diſtinction is neceffary to be made be-
tween the intentions of an author, and the
confequences which may be deduced from his
doctrines. The juft defence of myſelf, obliges
me only to obferve to you, that my end, in
defcribing the miſeries of mankind, was, in
my opinion, excufable and even commendable:
for I fhewed in what manner men brought their
own misfortunes on themſelves, and confe-
quently how they might avoid them..
I fee not where we muft look for the fource of
moral evil, except in man, a free, improved
and yet corrupted Being; and as to phyfical
evils, if matter cannot be at once fufceptible:
and impenetrable,, as it appears to me it can-
not, they must be unavoidable in every ſyſtem,
of which man conftitutes a part: and then the
queſtion is not, "Why is not man perfectly
happy "
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
229
happy?" but," why does he exift?" Again,
I think I have fhewn that, death excepted,
which can be called an evil only from its pre-
ceeding preparatives, the greater part of our
phyſical evils are our own work. Without
quitting the fubject of Liſbon, you muſt agree,
for example, that nature never affembled there
twenty thousand houfes of fix or feven ftories-
high; and that, if the inhabitants of that great
city had been more equally diſperſed, and more
lightly lodged, the damage would have been
much lefs, and perhaps none at all. Every
body would have taken flight at the firſt ſhock,
and would have been feen the next day twenty
leagues off, as gay as if nothing had happened..
But as it was, every one was obliged to ftay,
obftinately determined to remain near the ruins,
expoſed to new ſhocks, becauſe what they must
leave was worth more than what they could
take away. How many unhappy perſons muſt
have perifhed in that difafter, merely from per-
fifting, fome to take their cloaths, fome their
papers, and others their money! Is it not well
known that the perſon of a man is become the
leaft part of him, and that there is hardly any
trouble in faving that, when he has loft every
thing elſe?
You could have wifhed (and who would not
have wifhed the fame?) that the earthquake
had happened rather in the middle of a defart
than in Lilbon. Can it be doubted that earth-
quakes happen alfo in defarts? But no no-
tice is taken of them, becauſe they do no harm
to the gentry of the cities, the only perfons of
whom any account is made. Not that they do
much even to the animals and favages difperfed
throughout
3
230 ROUSSEAU's LETTER to
throughout thofe folitary wilds, who are neither
afraid of the falling of tiles, nor the tottering
of houſes. But what fignifies fuch a privilege?
Will it therefore be faid, that the order of
things ought to be changed agreeably to our
caprices; that nature ought to be fubmitted to
our laws; and that, we have nothing more to
do than to build a city on a certain ſpot, to
fecure it for ever from earthquakes?
There are many events which ftrike us more
or leſs, according to the light in which they are
feen; and which become much leſs horrible
than they at firft appeared, when they are ex-
`amined more nearly. I have learned from Za-
dig, and nature daily confirms the truth of it,
that an untimely death is not always a real
evil, and may fometimes pafs for a relative
good. Among the number of thoſe who pe-
rifhed under the ruins of Lifbon, many of them,
doubtlefs, avoided greater misfortunes; and not-
withſtanding the occafion which ſuch a ſubject
affords for pathetic and poetic deſcription, it is
not certain that any one individual of thoſe un-
fortunate perfons actually fuffered more than he
might have done, if, according to the ordinary
courſe of things, he had received thé ftroke of
death through the lingering anguiſh of diſeaſe.
In a word, could their end be more lamentable
than that of a dying man, tormented by fruit-
lefs folicitudes; whom his heirs and their lawyers
will hardly permit to breathe; whom the phy-
ficians murder in his bed at their eafe; and to
whom the barbarous prieſts adminifter the bit-
tereft potion of death, and artfully make the
patient tafte it drop by drop, even to the very
dregs? For my part, look which way I will
!
Ifte
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
235
I fee that the evils, to which we are expoſed by
nature, are much-lefs cruel than thoſe which
we unneceffarily add to them.
. But how ingenious foever we may be in fo-
menting our miſeries by dint of curious infti-
tutions, we have not been able as yet to improve
ourſelves to fuch a degree, as to make life a
burthen, and to caufe us generally to prefer an-
nihilation to exiſtence: which if we did not
do, difcouragement and defpair would foon
take off the greater part of mankind, and the
human race could not long fubfift. Now, if
it be better for us to be than not to be, this
would be fufficient to justify our exiſtence, even
if we had no indemnification to expect for the
evils we are to endure, and if thoſe evils were
as great as you deſcribe them. But, it is dif-
ficult to find men fincere, or philofophers good
calculators, on this fubject. Becauſe the one,
in making an eftimate of the good and ill of
human life, always forget the delightful con-
fciouſneſs of exiftence, which is independent
of every other fenfation; and becauſe the va-
nity of defpifing death, induces the others to
undervalue life; juſt as thoſe fluttiſh women,
who having dirty gowns and a pair of fciffars
at hand, pretend to love holes better than
fpots.
}
You think, with Erafmus, that there are
very few people in the world who would wiſh
to live their lives over again; but a man may
fet an high price upon a commodity, and yet
be glad to bate a good deal, on a fair profpect
of concluding the bargain. Befides, Sir, whom
am I to fuppofe you have confulted on this
head? The rich, perhaps, fated with falfe
6
plea-
232 ROUSSEAU'S LETTER to
pleaſures, but ignorant of the true; always
weary of life, yet always fearing to loſe it?
Or men of letters perhaps, who of all ranks
of men are the most fedentary, unhealthful,
thoughtful, and of courfe unhappy. Would you
find men of better conſtitution, or at leaſt
ge-
nerally more fincere, and who forming the ma-
jority of the people, ought to be heard in pre-
ference to the former Confult an honeft-
?
tradeſman who hath paffed his life in obſcurity
and tranquility, free from projects or ambition ;
a good artizan who lives well by his bufinefs;
or even a peafant; not indeed in France, where
it is pretended neceffary to starve the peaſants
in order to enable us to live; but in the coun-
try where you now refide, and almoſt in every
other free country. I will venture to lay it
down as a fact, that there is not in the higher
Valais, a fingle mountaineer difcontent with
his almoſt mechanical exiftence, and who would
not readily accept, even in exchange for the
raptures of paradife, a perpetual regeneration
in this life fully fatisfied to vegetate thus for
ever. It is this palpable difference which makes
me believe that it is often the abufe we make
of life, which makes it burthenfome to us; and
I have a much lefs good opinion of thoſe who
regret their having been born, than of him who
fhould fay, with Cato, "Nec me vixiffe pœ-
nitet, quoniam ita vixi, ut fruftra me natum
non exiftimem.' This does not prevent the
fage, however, from rufhing voluntarily on
death, when nature or fortune bring him a very
diftinct order for his departure. But, accord-
ing to the ordinary courfe of things, whatever
evils are interfperfed throughout human life, it is
1
"
not,
་
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
233
·
not, on the whole, a bad prefent; and if it be
not always an evil to die, it is very ſeldom one
to live.
Our different manner of thinking upon all
thefe articles, fufficiently informs me why fo
many of your arguments appear to me incon-
clufive. For I am not ignorant that human
reaſon takes more eafily the form of our opi-
nions than that of truth, and that when two
people are of contrary notions, what appears
demonftrated to the one is often mere fophiftry
to the other. Thus for example, when you
attack the chain of beings, fo well defcribed by
Pope, you ſay it is not true, that if a ſingle
atom were taken from the univerſe, the world
could not fubfift. On this head, you quote M,
de Crouzas; to whofe authority you add that
nature is not confined to any preciſe meaſure or
form; that none of the planets move in orbits
abfolutely regular; that no known created being
is of any precife mathematical figure; that no
precife quantity is required for any phyfical
operation; that nature never acts rigorously
exact; fo that we have no reaſon to affirm that
the loſs of an atom would be the deftruction of the
whole earth. I muff confefs, Sir, that I am much
more ftruck with the force of the affertion than
with that of the proofs, and that on this occa-
fion I fhould fooner concede to your authority
than your argument.
With regard to Mr. de Crouzas, I never read
his performance against Pope, nor am I capa-
ble perhaps of underſtanding it; but this is
very certain, that I fhall not give up to him
what I diſpute with you, and that I place as
little confidence in his arguments as in his au-
thority.
234 ROUSSEAU's LETTER to
thority. I am indeed fo far from thinking that
nature is not confined to precifion in regard to
figure and quantity, that I believe, on the con-
trary, nature alone follows that rigorous preci-
fion; becauſe nature alone is capable of making
an exact comparifon between the end and the
means, and of adjusting the proportion between.
force and refiftance. As to thofe pretended ir-
regularities you fpeak of, can it be doubted
that they have all their phyfical caufe,, and are
we authorized to deny the existence of fuch
caufe, merely becauſe we cannot perceive it?
Thofe apparent irregularities arife, without
doubt, from fome laws, of which we are ig
norant, and which nature follows as conſtantly
as fhe does thoſe we are acquainted with; from
fome agent which we do not perceive, the mea-
fures of whofe oppofition or concurrence are
fixed in all its operations: otherwife we muft
flatly affert that there are, actions that have no
principle, and effects that have no caufe, which,
is repugnant to all philofophy.
*
·
f
Let us fuppofe that two weights are in équi-
librio, and that they are neverthelefs unequal; if
to the ſmalleſt be added their quantity of dif
'ference, either they would remam ſtill in equi-
librio, and we ſhould have a caufe without ef-
fect, or their equilibrium would be broken,
and we ſhould have an effect without à cauſe.
But if the weights were of iron, and a ſmall
magnet fhould be concealed under one of them,
the actual precifion of nature would take away
the apparent precifion, while it would feem to
want exactneſs even from its exactnefs. There
is not a figure, not an operation, not a law in
the phyfical world, to which one may not
-
apply
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
235
apply fome example fimilar to this which I have
propofed in the cafe of Gravity.
You fay, that no known being is of a precife
mathematical figure. I aſk you, Sir, if it is
poffible there fhould be a figure which is not
fo, and whether the moſt apparently irregular
curve be not as regular in the eyes of nature,
as a perfect circle is to ours. As for the reſt,
I conceive that if any body can poffefs that ap-
parent regularity, it can be only the univerfe
itſelf, fuppofing it a plenum and limited for
mathematical figures being only abstractions,
they have no relation to any thing but them-
felves; whereas all thoſe of natural bodies are
relative to other bodies, and to the motions by
which they are modified. To that all this
proves nothing against the precifion of nature,
Even though we were agreed about what we
mean by precifion.
:
You diftinguiſh events that are attended with
effects from thofe which are attended with
none. I doubt much if this diftinction be well
founded. Every event appears to me to have
neceffarily fome effect either moral or phyfical,
or compounded of both, but which is not al-
ways perceived, becauſe the connection of
events is ftill more difficult to follow than that
of men; as in general we ought not to ſeek
for effects more confiderable than the events
they produce, the infignificance of cauſes often
renders the examination ridiculous, although
the effects are certain, and often it is found
that a number of effects almoft imperceptible,
are united to produce a confiderable event. Add
to this, that every effect takes place, although
it may poffibly act out of the body which
pro
236 ROUSSEAU's LETTER to
}
produced it. Thus the duft, raiſed by a cha-
riot wheel, certainly has no effect on the mo-
tion of the carriage, nor influence on that of
the world; but as nothing is foreign to the
univerfe, every thing that acts in it neceffarily
acts on the univerſe itſelf.
G
Thus, Sir, your examples appear to me more
ingenious than convincing. I fee a thoufand
plaufible reafons why it was not indifferent per-
haps to the fate of Europe, that on a certain
day the heiress of the houfe of Burgundy had'
her head well or ill dreffed; nor to the deſtiny
of Rome, that Cæfar turned his head to the
right or the left, or that he fpit on one fide or
the other, in going to the ſenate where he met
his punishment. In a word, when I recollect
the grains of fand cited by Pafchal, I am in
fome refpects of the opinion of your Bramin;
and in what light foever I confider things, it
feems to me that if all events have not appa-
rent effects, they have inconteftibly real ones;
the chain of which is not eafily purfued by the
human mind, but which are never confounded
by nature.
You fay it is demonftrated that the heavenly.
bodies revolve in a non-refifting ſpace. It was
certainly a fine thing to demonftrate this; but,
for my part, according to the cuſtom of the ig-
norant, I put very little confidence in demon-
ftrations that furpafs my comprehenfion.
I
fhould imagine that in the deduction of this,
the logician muſt have reaſoned nearly in the
following manner.
A certain force acting according to a cer-
tain law, would give the planets fuch a certain.
motion in a non-refifting medium; now the
planets
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
237
planets have exactly fuch a motion, therefore
they move in a non-refifting ſpace.-But who
-can tell whether there may not be a million of
other poffible laws, without hitting upon the
true, according to which the ſame motions may
'be better explained by means of a fluid, than
as they now are by means of a void ?
Did not
the abhorrence of a vacuum long ferve to ex-
plain most of thofe effects, which have been
fince attributed to the action of the air? Did
not fucceeding experiments deftroy this abhor-
rence of a vacuum, and the univerſe again be-
come a plenum? Have not new calculations
again restored the vacuum? And who is to
anſwer for it, that a new fyftem ftill more exact,
will not deftroy it again? Let us pafs over the
innumerable difficulties which a phyfiologift
would raiſe about the nature of light and en-
lightened ſpace; but do you really believe
that Bayle, whofe fagacity and reſerve in mat-
ters of opinion I admire, as well as yourfelf,
thought yours in this particular demonftrated ?
It ſeems in general, that the fceptics forget
themſelves a little, whenever they affume a
dogmatical tone, and that they, of all people,
ought to be particularly cautious, how they
ufe the word demonftrate. When people make
a boaſt of knowing nothing, how do they
think to be believed, in affirming fo many
things!
As for the reft, you have certainly made a
juft correction of the fyftem of Pope, in ob-
ferving that there can be no proportional gra-
dation between the creatures and their Creator;
and that if the chain of created beings reaches
up
238 ROUSSEAU's LETTER to
up to God, it is becauſe he holds that chain,
not becauſe he terminates it.
With regard to the good of the whole, in
preference to that of a part, you make man fay,
"I ought furely to be as dear to my mafter;
I, who am a fenfible thinking being, as the
planets, which probably do not think."
Doubtless the material univerſe ought not to be
more dear to its author, than a fenfible thinking
being. But the ſyſtem of that univerſe, which
produces, preferves and perpetuates all fenfible
and thinking beings, ought furely to be more
dear to him than any fingle individual of thoſe
beings he may, therefore, notwithſtanding
his goodneſs, or rather out of that very good-
nefs, facrifice fomething of the happineſs of
individuals to the preſervation of the whole. I
believe, and hope, that I am more eftimable
in the eyes of God than the earth, or mere
material fubftance of a planet; but if the planets
are.all inhabited, as is very probable, why ſhould
I be more eftimable in his eyes, than all the in-
habitants of Saturn? Thefe notions, it is true,
may be turned into ridicule; but it is certain,
that ſuch population is fupported by analogy,
and that nothing but human pride is againſt it.
Now this population fuppofed, the prefervation
of the univerſe feems, even with regard to the
Deity, to be a moral object, which is multi-
plied by the number of habitable worlds.
That the dead body of a man affords nouriſh-
ment for worms, for wolves, or plants, .is
not, I confefs, an indemnification for the
death of that man; but if, in the general fyf-
tem of the univerfe, it be neceffary to the pre-
fervation of the human fpecies, that there
fhould
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
239
Thould be a circulation of fubftance between
men, animals, and vegetables, the particular
inconvenience to the individual, contri-
butes to the good of the whole. I die, I am
eaten by worms; but my children, my brothers
live as i have lived; and I only do that by the
order of nature, for all mankind, what Codrus,
Curtius, Decius, and a thoufand others have
done voluntarily, for a fmall part of it.
To return, Sir, to the fyftem you have at-
tacked; I conceive it cannot be conveniently
examined, without carefully diſtinguiſhing that
particular evil, the exiſtence of which no phi-
lofopher ever denied, from that general evil
which is denied by the optimiſt. The queſtion
is not whether individuals fuffer; but whe-
ther the exiſtence of the univerfe be, on the
whole, good or not, and whether our par-
ticular fufferings are not unavoidable in the
conſtitution of that univerfe. Thus it appears
to me, that the addition of a fingle particle
will render the propofition exact; that is in-
ftead of faying Tout est bien, (all is good) we
fhould fay Le tout est bien, (the whole is good).
or Tout est bien pour le tout, (all is good for the
whole.) It is thus very evident, that no body
can bring a direct proof, either for or againſt
it for theſe proofs depend on a perfect know-.
ledge of the conftitution of the world, and the
defign of its Author; which knowledge is in-
conteftibly above the reach of the human un-
derſtanding.
t
The true principles of optimiſm cannot be
deduced either from the properties of matter,
or the mechaniſm of the univerfe; but only by
induction from the perfections of the Deity,
who
240
ROUSSEAU's LETTER to
who preſides over the whole: fo that we can-
not prove the exiſtence of God, from the ſyſtem
of Pope, but the fyftem of Pope, from the
exiſtence of God: and without contradic
tion, the queſtion about the origin of evil, is
derived from that of Providence. If one of
theſe queſtions alfo hath been treated no better
than the other, it is becauſe we have always
reaſoned fo badly about Providence, that the
abfurdities of the argument have confuſed all
the corollaries that might be deduced from this
important and confolatory tenet.
The first of thoſe who hurt the cauſe of
God were the prieſts and devotees, who will
not admit, that any thing happens according
to the effabliſhed order of things; but always
fuppoſe an intervention of Divine Juſtice, in
events that are purely natural; and, to be cer-
tain of being right, punifh the wicked and re-
ward the good, exactly according to the event.
For my part, I know not but it may be good
divinity; but I think it a very bad way of rea-
foning, to conclude for or againſt individuals,
on thoſe pretended proofs of Providence; and
to impute to deſign that which would have
happened equally without it.
Again, the philofophers, on their fide, do not
appear to me a jot more reaſonable, when we hear
them complaining againſt Heaven, becauſe they
are not infenfible; and crying out that all is
wrong, when they have got the toothach, are
indigent, or are robbed; and charging the
Deity, as Seneca fays, with the care of their
portmantua. Had any tragical accident put an
end to Cartouche or Cæfar in their infancy, it
had been asked, What crimes have they com-
mitted?
Mr. De VOLTAIK..
241
mitted? Thoſe two robbers have lived, and we
cry, Why were they ſuffered to exift? A de-
votee, on the contrary, would ſay, in the firſt
cafe, that God defigned to punish the father in
depriving him of his child; and in the ſecond,
that God preſerved the child for the puniſh-
ment of the people. Thus let nature act as
it will, providence is always in the right in the
opinion of the devotees, and always wrong in
the opinion of the philofophers. Whereas it
is very likely that in the order of human things,
Providence is neither right nor wrong; becauſe
every thing depends on a certain general law,
that makes no exception of perfons. It is pro-
bable that the particular events which happen
here below, are nothing in the fight of the
Creator and Governor of the univerfe; that he
contents himſelf with the prefervation of the
genus and fpecies, and with prefiding over the
whole, without troubling himſelf about the
manner in which each individual paffes this
fhort and tranfitory life. Doth a prudent mo-
narch, who nevertheleſs would have every body
live happy under his government, give himſelf
any concern whether or no the inns are good
on the roads through his kingdom? The tra-
veller, indeed, grumbles for a night, when he
finds them bad, and laughs all the reſt of his
life at the abfurdity of his impatience.
Commorandi enim natura diverforium nobis, non
habitandi dedit.
To enable us to form juft conceptions on this
fubject, it ſeems that things fhould be confider-
ed as relative in the phyſical order, and as abſo-
lute in the moral; fo that the greateft idea I
can form of Providence, is that every material
VOL. II. MISC. M
Being
242 ROUSSEAU's LETTER to
Being is difpofed in the beſt manner poffible
with regard to the whole univerfe; and every
fenfible and intelligent Being in the beft man-
ner poffible with regard to himſelf: that is in
other terms, it must be better for every Being,
confcious of his existence, to exift than not to
exiſt. But this rule muſt be applied to the to-
tal duration of every fenfible Being, and not to
fome particular moments of his duration, fuch
as is that of human life: a circumftance,
that fhews how clofely the fubject of pro-
vidence is connected with that of the im-
mortality of the foul; which I have the hap-
pineſs to believe, without being ignorant that
it may be reaſonably doubted; and with that
of the eternity of Hell-torments, which neither
you nor I, nor any thinking Being that believes
in God, ever can believe.
If we apply theſe ſeveral queſtions to their
common principle, it appears to me that they
all relate to that of the exiſtence of God. If
God exifts, he is perfect; if he is perfect, he
is wife, powerful and juft; if he is wife and
powerful, all is good; if he is juft and power-
ful my foul is immortal; if my foul is immor-
tal, thirty years of life are nothing to me, and
are neceffary perhaps to the preſervation of the
univerfe. If the firft propofition is granted
me, the following cannot be affected: if it be
denied, we have no bufinefs to diſpute about
the following.
We are, neither of us, in the latter cafe. So
far at leaſt am I from prefuming any thing like
it on your part, from the peruſal of your works,
that the greater part of them preſent the great-
eft, moft merciful and moft confolatory ideas
of
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
243
of the Deity; and I love a Chriftian of your
order much better than one of the Sorbonne.
!
As to my own part, I will confeſs to you
ingenuously, that I think neither the pro nor
contrary are demonftrable merely by the light
of reafon; and that if the Theift founds his
fentiments only on probabilities, the Atheiſt,
ftill lofs exact, appears to found his only on
oppofite poffibilities. Add to this, that the ob-
jections which arife, both on one fide and the
other, are infoluble; becauſe they relate to
things, of which mankind have no true
idea. I agree to all this, and yet I believe
in God as firmly as in any other truth what-
ever; becauſe to believe and not to believe,
depend less than any thing elfe on myſelf: a
ftate of doubt is a ſtate too violent for my foul,
but when my reaſon is afloat, my faith cannot
remain long in fufpenfe, but determines with-
out its direction. In fhort, a thouſand motives
draw ine to the moft confolatory fide, and add
the 'weight of hope to the equilibrium of rea-
fon.
This then is a truth at which we both fet out,
and on the ſupport of which you perceive how
eafy it is to defend optimiſm, and to justify
providence; and it is not neceffary to repeat to
you thofe hackneyed but folid arguments, which
have fo often been made ufe of on the ſubject.
With regard to fuch philofophers as do not
agree to the first principle, it is in vain to dif
pute with them on theſe matters; becauſe that
which is only a fentimental proof to us, can-
not be a demonſtrative one to them; and it is
M 2
by
244
ROUSSEAU's LETTER to
by no means reaſonable to fay to any man,
"You ought to believe fo or fo, becauſe I believe
it." They, on their fide, alſo, ought to`diſ-
pute as little with us on theſe matters; becauſe
they are only corollaries of a principal propofi-
tion, which a candid opponent would hardly
oppoſe them with; while, on their part, they
would be wrong to infift on our proving the co-
rollary independent of the propofition on which
it is founded. I think alfo they ought not for
another reaſon. And that is, it is inhuman to
diſturb the peace of mind, and make men un-
happy; when what we teach them is neither
certain nor uſeful. In a word, I think, after
your example, that we cannot too ftrongly at-
tack fuperftition which is the difturber of fo-
ciety, nor too highly reſpect religion which is
the ſupport of it.
But I am incenfed, as well as you, that every
man's faith ſhould not be left at perfect liberty;
and that man ſhould dare to lay a reftraint on
conſcience, which it is impoffible for him to
penetrate; as if it depended on ourſelves to be-
lieve or not to believe reſpecting things inca-
pable of demonſtration, or as if reafon could
be ever fubjected to authority. Have the kings
of this world any infpection into the next?
And have they a right to torture their ſubjects
here below, in order to force them into para-
dife? No. Every human government is li-
mited by its nature to civil obligations; and,
whatever that fophift Hobbes may fay about
the matter, if a man difcharges his duty to-
ward the ſtate, he owes no account to any one,
in what manner he ferves God. I know not
if
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
245
if that juft Being will not one day puniſh every
inftance of tyranny exerciſed in his name: at
leaft, I am very fure, he will never juftify them,
nor refufe eternal happineſs to any fincere and
virtuous believer. Can I doubt, without of-
fending his goodneſs and even his juftice, that
an upright heart will be excufed an involuntary
errour, or that irreproachable morals are not
more eftimable than a thouſand whimfical
modes of worſhip prefcribed by authority and
rejected by reafon? I will go farther; if it
were in my power to chufe, to purchase good
works at the expence of faith, and to make up
for my fuppofed infidelity, I fhould not hentare
a moment; but had rather have to fay to the
Deity; "I have done, without thinking of
you, the good which is agreeable to you; my
heart hath been inclined to your will without
knowing it," than to have to ſay to him, as I
muſt one day do; "Alas, I love and yet have
never ceaſed to offend you ; I have known your
will, and yet have done nothing conformable
to it."
I confeſs there is a fort of profeffion of faith
which the laws may impofe; but if the prin-
ciples of morality and natural right be except-
ed, it ought to be purely negative; becauſe
there may exift religions that attack the foun-
dation of fociety, and it is neceffary to begin
by exterminating thofe religions, to fecure the
tranquillity of the ftate. Of ſuch tenets as
ought to be profcribed, intolerance is without
doubt the moſt odious: but it muſt be checked
in its fource; for the moft fanguinary fanatics
change their language with their fortune;
preaching up patience and candour only when
M 3
they
1
246 ROUSSEAU's LETTER to
they are not the ftrongeft. Thus I call every
man intolerant from principle, who conceives.
no man can be a man of virtue and probity,
who does not believe exactly what he does, and
anmercifully configns to perdition all thofe who
do not think like himſelf. In a word, the
faithful are very feldom in a humour to leave
the reprobate at peace in this world; while a
faint who imagines he lives among the damned,
readily anticipates the taſk of playing the devil
with them. Again, if there ſhould be any
fuch thing as intolerant Infidels, who would
compel other people to believe nothing, I would
baniſh them no leſs feverely than I would those
who would compel people to believe juſt what
they pleaſed.
;
I would have therefore, in every ſtate a moral
sode, or a kind of civil profeffion of faith
containing pofitively the feveral focial maxims,
which every one fhould be bound to admit ;
and negatively the fanatical maxims he fhould
be bound to reject; not as impious, but as fe-
ditious. In which cafe, every religion recon-
cileable to the code, fhould be admitted; and
every religion irreconcileable to it, rejected;
while individuals fhould be at liberty to have no
other religion than the code itſelf. A work of
this kind, carefully drawn up, would, in my
opinion, be the moft ufeful book that ever was
compofed, and perhaps the only one neceffary
for mankind. Here, Sir, is a fubject worthy
of your genius; and I paffiona.ely wish you
would undertake ſuch a work, and embelliſh it
with your poetry, fo that, being eafily learned,
it might inſpire into all hearts, even in infancy,
thofe fentiments of candour and humanity which
are
Mr. De VOLTAIRE.
247
are fo confpicuous in your writings, and are
always wanting in thofe of devotees I advife
you to meditate on this project, which ought
at leaſt to give pleaſure to your foul. You have
given us in your poem on natural religion, the
Catechifm of Man; give us in that which I
propoſe to you the Catechiſm of a Citizen. . It
is a fubject that. requires long contemplation,
and to be reſerved perhaps for the laft of your
works, in order that you may finish, by an
act of benevolence to mankind, the moft bril-
liant carreer that ever was run by a man of
letters.
I cannot help remarking, Sir, on this head,
a very fingular contraft between you and me,
with regard to the ſubject of this letter. Sated
with glory, and undeceived with regard to the
inanity of worldly grandeur, you live at free-
dom in the midſt of plenty; certain of immor-
tality, you peaceably philofophize on the na
ture of the foul; and if the body or the heart
are indifpofed, you have Tronchin for your
phyfician and friend: yet with all this you find
nothing but evil on the face of the earth. I,
on the other hand, obfcure, indigent, tor-
mented with an incurable diforder, meditate
with pleaſure in my folitude, and find every
thing to be good. Whence arife theſe appa
rent contradictions? You have yourſelf ex-
-plained them you live in a ftate of enjoyments
I in a ſtate of hope; and hope gives charms to
every thing.
It is with as much difficulty I cloſe this tedi-
ous letter as you will have to go through it.
Forgive me, Sir, a zeal which, however it may
be indiſcreet, would not have diſplayed itſelf
M 4
before
248 ROUSSEAU's LETTER, &c.
before you, if I had efteemed you lefs. God
forbid I ſhould offend him, whofe talents I ho-
nour above thoſe of all my contemporaries, and
whoſe writings fpeak the moft forcibly to my
heart; but the caufe of Providence is at ftake,
on which all my expectations depend. After
having fo long deduced courage and confolation
from your leffons, it is hard for you to deprive
me of them now; to give me only a vague and
uncertain hope, rather by way of a prefent pal-
ative, than as a future indemnity. No. I
have fuffered too much in this life not to expect
another, Not all the fubtilties of metaphy-
fics can make me doubt a moment of the im-
mortality of the foul, and of a beneficent pro-
vidence. I feel it, I believe it, I defire it, I
hope it, and will defend it to my last breath:
and this, of all the difputes in which I have
been engaged, is the only one in which my
⚫wn intereft will not be forgotten.
I am, Sir, &c.
[ 249 ]
EXTRACT of a LETTER
FROM
*C1
Mr. ROUSSEAU to a FRIEND;
I
On the Works of M. RAMEAU.
Would endeavour, firſt of all, to determine
as near as poffible, the idea which an impar-
tial and reaſonable man, ought to have of the
works of M. Rameau; for I regard the cla-
mours of the cabals, for and againft him, as
nothing. As to my own part, I may poffibly
be miſtaken in my judgment for want of know-
ledge; but, if what I advance be not altoge-
ther reaſonable, it will certainly be impartial,
which is often the moſt difficult.
There is one circumftance attending the theo-
retical works of M. Rameau very fingular;
which is that they have gained a great reputation
without having been read; and they will be
ftill lefs read for the future; fince a certain
philofopher took the pains to write a fummary
of that author's doctrine. It is very certain
that this abridgment will annihilate the origi-
nals, nor will there be any reafon to regret
them, while poffeffed of fo good a fubftitute.
His feveral performances include nothing either
?
M 5
new
250
EXTRACT of a LETTER from
1
new or uſeful, except the principle of the fun-
damental baſs: but it is not a little affair to have
given a principle, were it even merely arbitrary,
to an art, which feemed to be void of princi-
ples, and to have fo facilitated the rules of it,
that the ftudy of compofition, which was fore
merly the buſineſs of twenty years application,
is at prefent only that of a few months.
The muſicians eagerly embraced the diſco-
very of M. Rameau, while they affected,, to
dffdain it. Their pupils multiplied with afto-
nifhing rapidity on every fide were feen petty
compofers juft initiated into the ſcience; moft-
of them deftitute of talents, who fet up for.
adepts at the expence of their mafter. Thus
the very great and real fervices which M. Ra-
meau rendered to mufick, brought with them
at the fame time this inconvenience, that France
was over-run- with bad mufick and wretched
muſicians; becauſe every one conceiting he
knew all the fineffes of his art, when he had
juft acquired the elements, all of them fet about
compofing harmony, before their ear and ex-.
perience had taught them to difcern good har-
mony from bad.
With regard to the operas of Rameau, the -
publick lie under this obligation to them, that
they firft raiſed the opera theatre above the ſtages.
of the Pont-neuf. He boldly broke through
that petty circle of very petty mufick, in which
our trifling muſicians conftantly moved, after
the death of the great Lully. So that, though
one fhould be unjust enough to deny Rameau.
the poffeffion of fuperior talents, it cannot, at
leaft be denied, that he opened in a manner a
new carreer for them, and thereby gave the
९
mu-
}
Mr. ROUSSEAU }
251
to a FRIEND.
muficians who fucceeded him an opportunity
of diſplaying theirs with fecurity; which was
undoubtedly no eafy enterprize. He felt the
thorns, and his fucceffors gathered the roſes.
It appears to me, that he is accuſed too
lightly, of having never fet any but bad words;
befides, to give any weight to this reproach,
it fhould be firft fhown that he had it in his
power to chufe better. Would it have been better
then that he had fet none at all? A more juſt
reproach is that he did not always underſtand
the words he made ufe of; that he often mif-
took or miſreprefented the fenfe of the poet, and
was guilty of many inconſiſtencies.
It was
not his fault that he was employed on bad
words; but it is to be doubted whether he could
have made the moſt of better. It is certain,
that with regard to ſenſe and underſtanding, he
was greatly inferior to Lully; to whom he was
almoſt always fuperior in point of expreffion.
M. Rameau would have no more been able to ·
have compoſed the foliloquy of Roland, than.
Lully that of Dardanus.
It must be acknowledged that M: Rameau.
poffeffed fine talents, great fire, a truly harmo-
nical head, a great knowledge in all the parts
of the art capable of producing effect; a great
deal of art in adopting, improving and embel-
liſhing the ideas of others, and of repeating
his own at the fame time, he had little facility
of inventing new; more capacity than ferti-
lity; more knowledge than genius, or at leaſt
a genius overwhelmed by too much know-
ledge: but he had always force and elegance,.
and very often a beautiful modulation.
His recitative is lefs natural, but much more
varied than that of Lully; admirable in fome few
M. 6
fcenes
>.
252
EXTRACT of a LETTER from
ſcenes, and almoſt always bad in all the reft..
But this is perhaps as much a defect in the na-
ture of things as any fault of his; for it fre-
quently happens that his fubjecting himſelf too
fervilely to declamation, occafions his tranfi-
tions to be harfh and his modulation unmuſical.
Had he had the power to invent the true recita-
tive, and to have been able to beat it into the
heads of the ſheepish animals about him, I con-
ceive he might have excelled in it.
He is the first who compofed fymphonies and
laboured accompanyments, and he made an ill
ufe of them. Before his time, the orcheſtra of
the opera reſembled a company of paralytics
in the height of their paroxyfm. He hath, to
be fure, -revived them a little. They affure us
at preſent that they have execution; but, I ſay,
for my own part, that theſe people never had
either feeling or tafte. It is nothing for them
to be merely all together, to play ftrong or foftly,
and exactly to accompany the actor. To
ftrengthen, foften, fupport, fink the founds,
as taſte and expreffion require; to enter into
the ſpirit of an accompany ment, to keep up
and make the most of founds; fuch is the art
of all the orcheftras in the world excepting that
of our opera.
Now I fay that M. Rameau hath abuſed this
orcheſtra even fuch as it is. He hath made his
accompanyment fo confuſed, ſo overloaded, fo
frequent, that the head can hardly bear to hear
that continual noiſe of the feveral inftruments
during the execution of his operas; which
would be heard with fo much pleaſure if they
did not ſtun the ears quite fo much. Hence it
is, that the orcheſtra, being conſtantly in play,
never affects cr ftrikes us, and almoſt always
lofes
Mr. ROUSSEAU to a FRIEND.
253
lofes its effect. It is fometimes neceffary, after
a ſcene of recitative, that an unexpected ftroke
of the bow would alarm the moſt abfent au-
ditor; and compel him to be attentive to the
images which the author is going to repreſent,
or to the ſentiments he would excite. But this
is what an orcheſtra never will effect that are
perpetually ſcraping.
Another reaſon against thefe too-laboured
accompanyments, is, that they have a direct
contrary effect to what they ought to have.
Inftead of fixing the attention of the fpectator
in the most agreeable manner, they deſtroy it
by dividing it. Before any one can perfuade
me that it is a fine thing to have three or four
defigns huddled one upon another, by three
kinds of inftruments, it is neceffary to prove
to me that three or four actions are neceffary
in a comedy. All theſe fineffes of art, thefe
imitations, double defigns, forced baffes, coun-
terfugues, are monftrous deformities, the mo-
numents of bad taſte, which ought to be ſhut
up in the cloisters, as their laft afylum.
To return to M. Rameau, and finiſh this
digreffion; I think nobody has known better
how to manage particular circumftances, no-
body has been better verfed in the arts of con-
traft: but, at the fame time, nobody has known
lefs how to give his operas that unity which is
fo maſterly and fo truly to be deſired; and he is
perhaps the only man in the world, who has
been incapable of making a good work out of
a number of fine parts excellently arranged.
Et ungues
Exprimet, et molles imitabitur ære capillos;
Infelix operis fummâ quia ponere totum
Nefcit.
This,
254 EXTRACT of a LETTER from, &c.
This, Sir, is what I think of the works of the
celebrated M. Rameau, to whom the nation muſt
pay deſervedly great honours. I know that this
judgment will not fatisfy either his partizans or
his enemies: for all I had in view was to give
a just one; and I propoſe it to you, not as a
rule for yours, but as an example of that fin-
cerity, with which it is proper an honest.
man ſhould ſpeak of thofe great geniuſes he ad--
mires, and whom nevertheleſs he does not think.
to be without fault.
[255]
ADVERTISEMENT
Bo Y
Mr. ROUSSE A U,.
TO AN
ANONYMOUS WRITER *:
I
Paris, Nov. 29, 1755..
Received, the 26th of this month, an anony
mous letter dated the 28th of October laft,,
which, being wrong directed, had been at
Geneva,
*Two anonymous pièces were about this time
addreffed to Mr. Rouffeau; the one by means of
the Mercury, and the other by the poft. The
firſt told him that, "As the face of fociety could
66
not now be changed, the arts were become
"neceffary, and the inequality of conditions un-
"avoidable: why then fhould the prefent efta-
"bliſhed order be difturbed, by exciting in its
"members the fpirit of difguft and indepen-
dence ?When ſuch a man as you writes for
"the uſe of others, he ought to do it only for
their amuſement or inftruction. Thus, if, in-
"stead.
256
ADVERTISEMENT.
Geneva, and was returned poft paid to Paris.
To this letter was annexed a paper written in
my defence, which I could not give to the Mer-
cury, as the author defired, for reafons which
he will be very fenfible of, if he has really that
efteem for me which he expreffes. He may
have that paper back again therefore, by ad-
drefling a billet to me in the fame hand-writ-
ing otherwife it will be fuppreffed.
:
The author ought not fo readily to have be-
lieved, that the writer he refuted was a citizen
of Geneva, although he affumed that charac-
ter; for it is eafy to date a letter from that
country but a perfon may boaft this advan-
tage, and yet affirm the contrary without
knowing it. I have neither the vanity nor the
fatisfaction to believe that all my fellow-citi-
zens think as I do: but I know the candour of
their proceedings; if any of them had thought
proper to attack me, they would have done it
openly and boldly. They would refpect me fo
much, even in oppofing me; or at leaſt they
would reſpect themſelves ſo much as to act to-
wards me with that franknefs and fincerity,
with which I act to all the world. Add to
this, that thofe, for whom that work * was
"ſtead of having thrown away your time in writ-
"ing two philofophical differtations, you had com-
<c
pofed fuch another opera as e Derin du village,
you would have again charmed the hearts of all
"thofe who might read it.”
The fubject of the other letter is fufficiently in-
timated in Mr. Rouffeau's advertiſement.
* The tract on the Inequality of Mankind.
4
written,
ADVERTISEMENT.
257
written, to whom it was dedicated, and who
honoured it with their approbation, never afk-
ed me once about its utility. They did not
object, like many others, "That, fuppofing
what was advanced to be true, I ought not to
have advanced it, as if the happineſs of ſociety
were founded only on the errours of mankind.
They faw there, I will venture to fay, very
cogent reafons for refpecting their own go-
vernment, as well as the means of preferving
it. And while they found in it thofe maxims
which become every honeft and virtuous citi-
zen, they could not defpife a treatife which
breathes throughout a fpirit of humanity, li-
berty, patriotism and obedience to the laws.
As to the inhabitants of other countries;
if they find nothing in the work that is enter-
taining or uſeful, I think they ſhould be rather
afked why they read it, than that I ſhould be:
afked why it was written. A certain genius.
of Bourdeaux advifes me gravely to lay afide
political inveſtigations, and to compofe operas ;
becauſe he, undoubtedly a, genius, is much
better entertained at the reprefentation of the
Devin du village.†, than by the perufal of my
Difcours fur l'inegalité. And in this he would
doubtless be right, if it were true that in writ-
ing to the citizens of Geneva, I was obliged
to find entertainment for the inhabitants of
Bourdeaux.
Be this however as it may, in acknowledg-
ing my obligations to my defender, I beg of
him to leave the field open to my adverfaries;
+ The Village Corjurer..
feeling
258
ADVERTISEMENT.
feeling myſelf no little regret at the time I have
formerly thrown away in anſwering them.
When our fearch after truth degenerates
into difputes and perfonal quarrels, it does not
hefitate to affume the weapons of falfehood;
but let us beware of debafing ourſelves in this
manner. Whatever value we may juftly fet
on fcience, peace of mind is of ftill much
greater. I defire no other defence for my writ
ings than reaſon and truth; nor for my perfon
than my conduct and morals: if theſe fail, no-
thing can fupport me; and if they fupport me,,
what have I to fear?.
FROM
[ 259 ]
FROM
Mr. ROUSSEAU,
TO
COUNT DE TRESSAN*.
Paris, Dec. 26, 1755-
I
SIR,
Honour
you, as we all do; and am pleaſed-
that I have an opportunity of adding gra-
titude to refpect; being in reality obliged to.
Mr. Paliffott, for having undefignedly procur-
ed me thoſe inſtances of your goodness which
permit me to affure you of my efteem. If that
writer hath failed in the reſpect which he, and
every one elſe owes to the Prince, whom he
deſigned to amufe, no one ought to think him.
* Chamberlain to the Duke of Lorrain King of
Poland.
+ This gentleman, who was member of the So-
ciety of arts and fciences at Nancy, had written
a Comedy called The Philofophers, in which Mr.
Rouffeau was turned into ridicule; and that in fo
grofs a manner as to give offence to the fovereign;
who, on that account, had determined to have him,
expelled the fociety of Nancy.
more.
260
From MR. ROUSSEAU
more inexcufable than I. But, if all his of-
fence is the having expofed my abfurditics, he
claims the right and privilege of the ftage; I
fee nothing in this to reprehend him for, as a
man; and, as an author, I think he hath the
merit of being fortunate in the choice of his
fubject. I defire, therefore, you will not liften
to what the zeal, arifing from the friendſhip and
generofity of Mr. d'Alembert may ſuggeſt on
this head; nor by any means give any chagrin,
for ſuch a trifle, to a man of merit, who hath
not in the leaft hurt me, and who muft ſuffer
greatly under the difgrace of having offended
the King of Poland and you.
My heart is greatly affected by thofe elo-
giums, with which you have honoured my fel-
low citizens under your command. In fact,
the Genevans are naturally of a good difpofi-
tion; they are open and ingenuous, do not
want fenfe, and require only good examples
to make them altogether good themſelves. Per-
mit me, Sir, to exhort thofe young officers my
countrymen, to profit by yours; to render
themſelves worthy of your goodneſs, and to
improve, under your eye, thofe good qualities
which they owe perhaps to you, and which you
impute to their education. For my own part,
I ſhall myſelf take the advice I now give them,
when you come to Paris: let them ſtudy the
ſoldier, I will ſtudy the philofopher: our com-
mon object will be the man of probity, and
you will be ſtill our maſter.
1
to COUNT DE TRESSAN.
261
LETTER THE SECOND.
To the fame ; in answer to his reply to the foregoing.
SIR,
W
Hatever danger I riſk of becoming im-
portunate, I cannot forbear adding to
the acknowledgments I owe you, fome remarks
on the enregiftring * the affair of M. Paliffot
on which head, I muſt firſt take the liberty to
tell you, that even my admiration of the vir-
tues of the King of Poland, do not permit me
to accept that proof of his goodneſs, which
his Majefty is pleaſed to honour me with on
this occafion, but on condition that the whole
affair fhall be buried in oblivion. I dare fay
that it ill fuits with his greatnefs of mind to
do an imperfect favour, and that it will be moſt
agreeable to him to grant a pardon without
referve. Befides, can it be called a favour, to
perpetuate fuch a puniſhment? And fhould
not the regiſters of an academy ferve rather to
palliate than to fet forth the little faults of its
members? In fine, however ſmall be the eſti-
mation in which I hold our contemporaries,
God forbid we ſhould degrade them fo far, as
to enregiſter a circumftance as an act of vir-
tue, which is, in fact, nothing more than
the moſt ſimple ſtep, that every man of letters
would have to take, were he in my place.
The method propofed by the King of Poland,
on finding Mr. Rouffeau averſe to the intended ex-
pulfion of Mr. Paliffot.
Finifh
262
From MR. ROUSSEAU.
Finiſh then, Sir, the good work you have
fo well begun in a manner worthy of you.
Let no more be ſaid of a trifle that hath already
made too much noife, and given more chagrin
to Mr. Paliffot than fuch an affair deferved.
What ſhall we have done for him, if the par-
don cofts him as dear as the puniſhment?
Permit me to make no reply to thoſe exceſ-
five encomiums you are pleaſed to honour me
with: they are ſevere leſſons which I ſhall pro-
fit by; for I am not ignorant, and this letter is
a proof of it, that we are always moderate in
the praiſe of thoſe whom we perfectly eſteem.
But, Sir, the full explanation of this ſubject
muſt be deferred till a perſonal interview. I
wait with impatience the pleaſure you have
promiſed me; when you will find that, from
fome cauſe or other, you will no longer praiſe
me when we know each other.
I
SIR,
TO THE SAME.
Paris, Jan. 17, 1756.
T is with great fatisfaction I learn, that you
have entirely put an end to the affair of Mr.
Paliffot, and I thank you for it with all my
heart. I ſhall ſay nothing to you of the little
diſpleaſure it may have occafioned you, as things
of this nature are never felt by a philofopher;
and befides you know better than I, that the
reflection on a good action always effaces the
little uneafinefs that may have attended it.
After having ſo happily terminated this buſineſs
then, we have nothing farther to defire of you;
nor do I defire to hear of it any more.
7
燒肉​更​更​更​更​装​装​装
​ON
THEATRICAL IMITATION.
An ESSAY,
Compoſed from the
DIALOGUES of PLATO.
昏
​[ 265 ]
ADVERTISEMENT.
HE following little piece is a kind of
Textract
extract of thoſe paffages in which
Plato treats of Theatrical Imitation. I have
done little more than barely collect them, and
join them together in form of a connected
difcourfe, inftead of that of dialogue in which
they were firft written. I was induced to this
undertaking, on account of the letter I wrote
to Mr. d'Alembert on the ſubject of theatrical
entertainments*; but as I could not conve-
niently interweave it in that work, I laid it aſide
to be made uſe of elſewhere, or to be totally
fuppreffed.
Since that time, it being got out of my hands,
I found it included, I know not by what
* Inferted in the third Vol. of thefe Mifcella-
nies.
VOL. II. Misc:
N
means,
266
ADVERTISEMENT.
1
means, in a bargain, with which I had no-
thing to do. The manufcript was returned
me, but the bookſeller claimed it as a fair
purchaſe, and I had no mind to expoſe the
perſon who had furniſhed him with it. Thus
hath this trifle found its way to the preſs.
ON
[ 267 ]
ON
THEATRICAL IMITATION.
TH
HE more I reflect on the inftitution of
our imaginary Republick, the more it
appears to me that we have laid down ſuch laws
as are uſeful, and peculiarly adapted to the na-
ture of man. I conceive, in particular, that
it was very neceffary to lay a reftraint, as we
have done, on the licentioufnefs of the poets,
and to forbid them practiſing all fuch parts of
their art, as relate to imitation.
We will refume, if you pleafe, this topick;
as we have already examined all the more im-
portant ſubjects. And, in the hope that you
will not betray me to thofe dangerous enemies,
I will confefs to you that I look upon all dra-
matic writers, as corrupters of the people;
who, fuffering themſelves to be amused by their
imagery, are not capable of contemplating it
in a true point of view, nor of beftowing the
-neceffary corrections which their fables require.
Whatever reſpect I may have for Homer, their
model and firft mafter, I do not think I owe
more to him than to truth; and to begin by
being certain of the latter, I fhall cnter im-
mediately on an enquiry into the nature of imi-
tation.
N 2
In
268
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
In order to imitate a thing, it is requifite to
have an idea of it. This idea is abftracted, ab-
folute, fingle, and independent of the number
of copies which may exift in nature of the fame
thing. This idea is always prior to its execu-
tion for the architect who builds a palace, has
the idea of a palace before he begins to build.
He does not form the model, he only co-
pies it, and, this model muft previouſly exiſt in
his mind.
Confined by the nature of his art, to this
fole object, this artift can only build his own
palace, or other palaces like it: but there are
many other artifts more univerfal, who can imi-
tate every thing that is in the power of work-
men to do, every thing that is produced-in na-
ture, or that is viſible in the heavens, on the
earth, in Hell, or among the Gods themselves.
You will read ly comprehend that theſe mar-
vellous artiſts are painters; and that the moſt
ignorant of men may do as much with the help
of a common looking-glafs. You will tell me
that the painter doth not form the things them-
felves, but only the images of them juft as
much as the workman who really conftructs
them, fince he copies a model which exiſted
before them.
TUX
I fee here three palaces very diftinct. Fint,
the model, or original idea which exifts in the
mind of the architect, in nature, or at least in
its author, together with all poffible ideas; of
which he is the fource. Secondly, the palace
of the architect, which is the image. of that
model; and lastly, the palace of the painter,
which is the image of that of the architect.
Thus God, the architect, and the painter are
refpectively
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
269
reſpectively the authors of theſe three ſeveral
palaces. The firſt palace is the original idea,
exiſting by itſelf; the fecond is the image of it;
the third is the image of the image, or what we
properly call imitation. Hence it follows that
imitation does not, as is generally conceived,
hold the fecond rank, but the third in the order
of Beings; and that, as no image is exact and
perfect, the imitation is always in a degree far-
ther from truth than is imagined.
The architect may conftruct many palaces.
on the fame model, as the painter may draw
many pictures of the fame palace; but with
regard to the type or original model, it is per-
fectly fingular for if it be fuppofed that there
may be two exactly alike, they would be no
longer originals: they may indeed have one
original model common to both, and this only
would be the true one. Now what is here faid
of painting is equally applicable to theatrical
imitation: but before we proceed to its appli-
cation, let us examine more particularly into
the imitations of the painter.
This artiſt is not only confined, in his pic-
tures, folely to the imitation of the images of
things; that is, the vifible productions of na-
ture, and the works of other artifts; but he
does not even attempt to give the real figure of
the object; but only its appearance. He paints
it fuch as it appears to be, and not ſuch as it
is. He defcribes it only in one point of view;
and, making choice of this point at pleaſure,
he reprefents the fame object, according to his
fancy, either agreeable or diſagreeable to the
eye of the fpectators. Thus they never can
judge of the thing imitated by the thing. it-
N 3
felf,
270
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
felf, but are obliged to judge from a certain
appearance, affumed at the pleaſure of the
imitator. Frequently, indeed, they judge only
from habit, and caprice itſelf extends even to
the art of imitation *.
*
1
The
Experience teaches us that fine harmony does
not pleaſe an ear unprepared for it; and that it is
habit only which renders confonances agreeable,
and enables us to diftinguish them from intervals
the moſt diſcordant. As to the fimplicity of thoſe
relations, on which it is pretended the pleaſure of
harmony is founded; I have fhewn in the Encyclo-
pedie, under the word Confonance, that fuch princi-
ple is not to be maintained; and I think it eaſy to
prove that all our harmony is a barbarous and go-
thic invention, which is become, by length of time,
an imitative art: a certain ftudious magiftrate of
my acquaintance, who, inftead of ſpending his
leifure hours at concerts, amufes himfelf with in-
veiligating the theory of mufick, has difcovered
that the relation of a fifth, is not as three to two,
except by approximation; but that this relation is
strictly speaking incommenfurable. Nobody at
leaft can deny that it may be fo on our harpfi-
chords properly tuned: yet this would not prevent
thofe fifths appearing agreeable. Now, where, in
fuch a cafe, is that fimplicity of relation, which
fhould make them fo? We do not even know whe-
ther our whole fyftem of mufick is not founded
on mere convention; we know not if its principles
are not altogether arbitrary, nor whether if another
fyftem were fubftituted in its place, it might not in
time become habitual, and give us equal pleaſure.
By a very natural analogy thefe reflections may ex-
cite others, on the ſubject of painting, relative to
the tone of the picture, the accords of its colour-
ing, and on certain parts of its defign, in which
there
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
271
The art of repreſenting objects, and that of
conveying the knowledge of what they are in
reality, are quite different. The firft gives us
pleaſure, without inftruction; the fecond, in-
itructs, but does not pleaſe. The artift, who
draws the defign, and takes the dimenſions with
nicety, preſents nothing very agreeable to the
eye; his work therefore is never examined,
but by perſons of fkill. But he that draws in
perfpective, pleafes the ignorant, becauſe he
does not teach them, what the thing is, but
only gives them the refemblance of what they
were before acquainted with. Befides, men-
furation fhews us the magnitude of objects,
only by degrees, and it is fome time before we
arrive at a true knowledge of their real dimen-
fions; but the reprefentation gives the whole,
at once, which being taken for the effect of
greater genius, is more pleafing to the fenfe, as
it is more flattering to our vanity.
The figures produced by the painter's art,
which have in themſelves no folidity, could never
appear to us under that form, but by means of
certain lights and fhades, which make us take
the repreſentation for the thing itſelf. If there
were any mixture of truth in thofe imitations,
he muſt of neceffity know the objects he imi-
there may be fomething more arbitrary than is ima-
gined, and in which the art of imitation itſelf may
Be limited by rules merely conventional. Why,
for inſtance, do not the painters undertake new
imitations? Such as have nothing against them
but their novelty, and appear in every other reſpect.
peculiar to their art.
№ 4
tates;
272 ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
-
+
09
tates; he ſhould underſtand natural philofophy,
and mechanics, before he could be a painter;
but on the contrary, the extent of his art has
no foundation but his ignorance; and he is ca-
pable of repreſenting every thing, because it is
not neceffary he ſhould know any thing. When
he preſents us with a philofopher at his medi-
tations, an aftronomer, obferving the ftars,
a geometrician, drawing figures, a turner, at
his lathe, can he, alfo, turn, meditate, calcu-
late, or make obfervations on the planets No,
he can only paint thoſe who can, in their proper
attitudes.
*
さい
​Without the capacity of accounting for what
he repreſents on his canvas, he doubly abufes
us, by his imitations; either, by giving us,
an uncertain and deceitful appearance, the er-
ror of which is not to be diſtinguiſhed either by
himſelf or others; or by ufing falfe meatures,
to produce that appearance: that is, by chang-
ing all the true dimenſions," and adapting them
to the laws of perſpective: fo that, if the al-
teration be not perceived by the fpectator,
whoſe ſenſe is confined to feeing the picture,
juft as it is, he will either be deceived, with re-
gard to the conformity of what is repreſented
or will detect the fallacy. Yet the illufion fhall
be fuch, as will impofe on the young or igno-
rant; they will believe, that they' fee objects,
which the painter himſelf knew nothing of,,
and artiſts employed in works, to which he was.
an entire ſtranger.
Let us learn from this example, to diftruft
thoſe univerfal geniuses, thofe * jacks-of-all
trades, who know every thing, difpute on all
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION
273
fubjects, and feem, to unite in themſelves, the
different talents of mankind.:
>
If any body tells us of fuch a wonderful per-
fon, let us affure him, that he is cheated by the
leger-demain of a mountebank, and that all
the knowledge of that great philofopher is
founded in the ignorance of his admirers, who
cannot diftinguish the error from the truth, nar
the imitation from the reality.
This leads us to the confideration of the tra
gic authors, and of Homer their chief *. Many
people affure us, that a tragic poet fhould know
every thing, that he ought thoroughly to un--
derftand the virtues and vices, politics and mo-
rals, laws both human and divine, and that he
fhould be acquainted ſcientifically with all he
treats of, or he will never rife to perfection.
Let us examine now, whether thofe, who have
carried poetry to that high pitch, have not
fuffered themfelves to be impofed on by the
imitative art, common to poets; whether their
admiration of theſe immortal works, has not
blinded them ſo much, as not to perceive their
diftance from the truth; as not to know colours
without confiftence, are mere empty fhadows;
and that
at to draw fuch images, nothing is lefs
requifite than the knowledge of truth: or rather,
whether any real utility can be found in all
thefe, and if poets are mafters in fact, of that
variety of things, which the vulgar imagine
they deſcribe fo well.
I
* It was commonly thought by the ancients that
all their tragic authors were but imitators of Ho-
One of them faid of the Tragedies of Eu-
ripides, "They are the leavings of Homer's ban-
quet, brought away by fome of the guests."
mer.
N.S
Tell
274
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
Tell me now, my friends; if a man might
have his choice, do you think he would prefer the
picture of his miſtreſs, to the original? If an
artist could make the thing he imitates, as well-
as the repreſentation of it, in matters of value,
which would he chooſe? and would he content
himſelf with the picture of an houſe when he
was capable of building one? If, therefore,
the tragic poet knew all thoſe things he pretends
to defcribe, if he poffeffed the qualities he paints,
if he was able to do himſelf all he aſcribes to
his characters, would he not exerciſe the fame
talents? practiſe the fame virtues? Would he
not rather raife monuments to his own glory,
inſtead of ſpending his time in contributing to
that of others? And would he not chooſe to
do praife-worthy actions himſelf, rather than
be confined to the celebration of them in others?
The merit would undoubtedly be different;
and there can be no reaſon why, being able to
do more, he ſhould be fatisfied with leſs.
But what think you of him, who would
teach us, what he was never himſelf capable of
learning? Who would not laugh to fee a
crowd of fools, go to admire a rafh young
Fellow of twenty, turning into jeft all the re-
fineinents of policy, and the receffes of the hu-
man heart, to whom the moft ignorant among
them would not truſt the conduct of the ſmalleſt
affair? We have now done with arts and ta-
lents.
When Homer fays fo much of the ſkill of
Machaon, we never afk what was his own
knowledge of the fame fcience. We do not
concern ourſelves with enquiring, what difor-
ders he cured, what pupils he brought up,
what
ON THEATRICAL IMITAΤΙΟΝ.
275
what fine works of engraving, or fculp-
ture he finiſhed, what tradefmen he formed,
or what monuments he has left of induſtry..
We permit him to inftruct us, without know-
ing how far he is capable. But when he treats
of war, government, laws and fciences, that
require the longeſt ſtudy, and contribute moft
to the good of mankind, let us then dare to
interrupt him for a moment, and fay, O di-
vine Homer! we admire your inftructions,
and we only defer following them, till we find
how you practifed them yourfelf; if you are
really the perfon, you have taken ſuch pains to
appear; if your imitations hold the fecond
and not the third rank after the truth; let us
fee in you, the counter-part of what you have
drawn, in your works; fhew us the great cap-
tain, and the wife legiflator, whofe pictures»
you have fo boldly painted.
Greece and the whole world acknowledge
the benefits received from men, who poffeffed.
thofe fublime arts, whofe precepts coft you fo
little.-Lycurgus gave laws to Sparta, Cha-
rondas to Italy and Sicily; Minos to Crete,
Solon to us. If the queftion relate to focial
duties, to good ceconomy, to the conduct of a
family, or that of a citizen, in all conditions.
of life, Thales the Milefian, and Anacharfis-
the Scythian, have given both the precept
and example. Are we to inftruct others,
in the fame duties; and inftitute fages and
philofophers, to practiſe what they teach?
thus did Zoroafter among the Magi, Py-
thagoras to his difciples, and Lycurgus to his-
fellow-citizens. But if it be true, Homer,.
that your excellence has been fo various; if it.
N 6
be
276 ON THEATRICAL IMITATION."
n
be true, that you could inſtruct men, ſo as to
render them at once wiſer and better; if it be
true, that you have joined 'knowledge and un-
derſtanding, to poetical imitation,hew us the
labours that prove your abilities, the ftates you
have inftructed, the virtues that do you honour,
the ſcholars you have educated, the battles you-
have gained, the riches you have acquired.
Why have you not procured crowds of friends?
Why were not you admired and beloved by the
whole world? How is it poffible, that you
could have no follower but Cleophilus? Still
your fhew your ingratitude. What! a Pro-
tagoras of Abdera, a Prodicus of Chios, with-
out quitting their private life, drew multitudes.
of their co-temporaries about them, perfuaded
them to learn of them only the art of govern-
ing their country, their family, and themfelves;
and yet thofe wonderful men, an Hefiod, an
Homer, who had univerfal knowledge, who
could inftruct all perfons of their time, neg-
lected that duty, to go rambling and begging
through the world, chanting their verfes from
town to town, like idle vagabonds or imperti-
'nent ballad-fingers! In theſe rude ages, when
the weight of ignorance began to be felt, when
the greediness of knowledge, and the need that
required it, joined to render every man uſeful
and reſpected, who had a little more learning
than the reft;-if theſe perſons were as wife
as they ſeemed to be, if they were poffeffed of
thofe qualities, they have fo fplendidly fet forth
in others, they would have paffed for fuper-
natural, they would have been fought after by
all; every one would have ſtriven to attach
them, to poffefs them entirely, to keep them at
4
their
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION. 277
their houſes, and thoſe who were not fo fuc-
cefsful as to retain them, would rather have
followed them all over the world, than loſe ſo
good an opportunity of becoming fuch heroes,
as they had admired in the defcriptions of thefe
men'
1
י
We muft agree therefore, that all the poets,
beginning with Homer, do not repreſent to us,
in the pictures they have drawn, perfect mo-
dels of the virtues, talents, or qualities of the
foul, nor any other objects of the fenfes or un-
derſtanding, which they had not in themſelves,
but only the images of thofe objects, drawn
from objects foreign to them; and that they are
not a jot nearer to truth, when they give us
the features of an hero or a general, than a
painter, who, drawing a geometrician or an
artificer, troubles not himſelf about the art he
is a ſtranger to, but only minds the colours and
figures of the pieces. In like manner, names
and words enchant thofe, who, having an ear
for rhime and harmony, fuffer themſelves to
be charmed by the poet's bewitching art, and
are feduced by the attraction of pleafure; fo
as to take the images of objects, which neither
they or their authors know any thing of, for
す
​* Plato would not fay that a man of fenfe, and
converfant in lucrative bufinefs, cannot make a
fortune, by dealing in poetry, or by other means.
But there is a wide difference between growing rich,
and illuftrious, from the talent of poetry, and be
coming fo, by fuch talents as the poet pretends to
teach. It is true, we may inftance Tirtaus, but he
drew himſelf out with honour, by being rather con,
fidered as an orator, than a poet.
•
い
​Y
Fi
the
278 ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
the objects themſelves, and are afraid of being,
undeceived, in an error that flatters them,
whether in covering their ignorance, or in the
agreeable fenfations, that accompany that
error.
}
In effect, take from the most beautiful of
theſe poetic drafts, the charm of numbers, and
other embelliſhments; ftrip it of the colouring
of poetry and ſtyle, and leave nothing but the plan
you fhall ſcarce be able to know it again: And
even if it can be known, it will be no more pleaf-
ing, like thoſe children, rather pretty than hand-
fome, who once paft the flower of their youth,,
lofe all their charms without changing a feature.
Not only the imitator or author of a repre-
fentation, knows nothing more than the ap-
pearance of what he imitates, but even the
true knowledge of the thing itſelf is concealed.
from him that made it.
I fee in a picture, horfes yoked to the cha
riot of Hector; thefe horfes have harneffes,.
bits, reins; the Gold-fmith, the Black-fmith.
and Sadler have made all thefe; the Painter
hath repreſented them. But neither the work-
man who made them, nor the painter who de-
figned them, know what they ought to be; 'tis.
the gentleman that is to determine their form by
the uſe they are intended for, 'tis he only who
is to judge, whether they are good or bad, and
who is to rectify their faults. So in every
thing that can be made, three things are to be
confidered, as objects of practice: The ufe,
the make, and the imitation; the two lafts.
evidently depend on the first: and there is no-
thing in nature, that can admit of imitation,,
to which the fame diftinctions are not appli-
cable.
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
279x
sable. If the utility, the goodneſs, the beauty
of an inſtrument, of an animal, of an action,
has a reference to the uſe it is defigned for; if
it belongs only to him that gives it to be made,
to judge if it be executed according to his plan ;
fo far is the imitator from being capable of
knowing the qualities of the things he imi-
tates, that the decifion is not even to come from
the original maker.
The imitator follows the workman, the
workman follows the artift, who formed the de-
fign; and it is he only that can equally value-
the work and the imitation. This is a confir-
mation, that the reprefentations of the poet and
painter, have but the third place after the ar-
chitype, or the truth.
But the poet who has no judge, but the igno-
rant, whom he feeks to pleafe, will he not flat-
ter them? Will he not disfigure the objects he
offers them?-He will imitate what appears fine to
the vulgar, without troubling himſelf whether
it be fo in reality. If he draws an image of
valour, fhall he be judged by Achilles? If he
fhews us craft, will he be governed by the
opinion of Ulyffes? Quite the reverfe Achilles
and Ulyffes, are his characters; Therfites and
Dolon, his fpectators.
You will, perhaps, object to my argument,
and alledge, that the philofopher in this point
is as deficient as the poet, with reſpect to the
arts about which he treats, and that the one
is as free with his ideas, as the other is with his
images. I admit this: but the philofopher does.
not ſet out on the principle of abſolutely know-
ing the truth; he inveſtigates, he examines,
and fearches for it in its retirements, he enlar
i
2
ges
280 ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
1
ges our views, and even his miſtakes contribute
to inftruct us; he propofes doubts as doubts,
conjectures as conjectures, and affirms nothing
of which he is not certain. In his reaſoning,
he refers all to our opinion; and even the imi-
tating poet prefumes to judge. When he fur-
nilhes us with images, they are conformable to
truth, and he is under a neceffity of knowing
how far he can rely on the certainty of his own
art. He advances nothing, but with a defign
of arriving at the truth of his propofition. The
poet is the painter who draws the perfpective,
the philofopher is the architect who elevates the
plan the one ſcarce thinks it worth while to
view the object he intends reprefenting; the
other meafures exactly, before he lays down
the proportions of his edifice.
But that we fhould not be abuſed by analy
tical impofition, let us examine what faculty of
the foul has a conformity to thefe imitations
of the poet, and then confider from whence
proceed the deceptions of the painter.
J
If we view the fame objects, at different
diftances, we fhall imagine them to differ in
magnitude, their forms are not fo diftinguifh
able, nor their colours of fo ftrong a tint. If
in water, they alter their fhape; that which is
ftraight appearing crooked, and feeming to
undulate with the medium through which it is
feen. By means of a convex or concave glafs,
the fimilitude is-entirely changed, By the mix-
ture of light and fhade, a flat Turface appears,
either prominent or hollow, as the painter
thinks proper. His pencil cuts as deep as the
fculptor's chiffel, and in the elevations traced
on the canvas, our fefffe of feeling is to ftrongly
A
VIST
OL (DE12007
1
con-
1
ON THEATRICAL 27
28.1
IMITATION.
contradicted by that of the fight, as to leave a
doubt, which of the two we ſhould believe.
All erroneous judgments are certainly made
through precipitation, and it is owing to that
weaknefs of the human understanding, always
inclinable to determine without knowing the
nature of things, that our fenfes are cheated
by the illufions of magic, raiſed by the deceit-
ful operations of optics and mechanics. We
infer merely from appearances, and reafon from
what we know, of that which we do not
know; our falfe conclufions, hence producing
numberless extravagant chimeras.
But what are our remedies for thefe deceptions
of our fenfes ? Analytical inveftigation, the
art of curbing our imagination, the uſe of
weights, meaſures, and arithmetic, are, the an-
tidotes against the faſcination of the fenfes
We fhould, by theſe helps, be capable of deter-
mining what was great or fmall, round or
fquare, pellucid or denfe; not by their appear-
ance, but by number, weight and meafure...
The compariſon, the judgment we form of
the proportions, which bodies bear one to an-
other, by thefe different impreffions, is undoubt
edly the province of the reafoning faculty, and
that judgment is often at variance with the par
tiality our fenfes have, in favour of external
figns.
Now we have before obferved, that it cannot.
be one and the fame faculty of the foul, which
forms contrary judgments of the fame things;
when confidered under the fame relations to each.
other. It is therefore not reafon, the moft ex-
cellent, but a different and inferior faculty,
19
f
that
282 ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
that is this dupe to appearances, and fo fondly
careffes imitation.
This is what I before meant, in ſaying that
painting and the imitative art in general, ex-
ercifes its operations, far from the truth of
things; as it is the object of that part of the
foul, which is void of reafon and difcretion,
and it is incapable in itſelf of knowing truth
from falíehood *.
Thus the art of imitation, bafe in its nature,
and by its alliance with that low faculty of the
foul, by which it acts, is ftill mean in its pro-
ductions, at leaft with regard to that material
fenfe, by which we judge of the labours of the
painter. Let us now confider the fame art,
immediately applied to the internal fenfe or
underſtanding, by the imitations of the poet.
The poetical landfcape reprefents men as
acting, either voluntarily or by conſtraint, rate-
ing their performances as good or evil, with
refpect to the confequences they imagine will
be the iffue; and ſuffering different emotions,
either of grief or joy. Now for the reafons
before affigned, it is impoffible a man fo cir-
cumftanced, can ever be confiftent with him-
felf; and as the appearance, or reality of fen-
fible objects produce different opinions, he will
eftimate the objects of his actions differently,
as they are near or remote; agreeable or re-
* We muft not here take the word part, in a
ſtrict fenfe, as if Plato had fuppofed the foul to be
capable of divifion. By this is meant only the dif-
ferent operations of it, which are otherwife called
faculties.
}
pugnant
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
283
pugnant to his paffions; while his judgment is
variable, as they raife, a perpetual contra-
diction in his defires, his reafon, his will, and
all the powers of his ſoul.
The ftage then repreſents mankind in gene-
ral, even thoſe propofed as worthy our imita-
tion, as being influenced by paffions quite re-
pugnant to that ftate of moderation and tran-
quillity neceffary for their happineſs. Let a
wife man, who has fortitude, lofe a fon, a
friend, a miſtreſs, or any object dearest to him,
we ſhall never ſee him given up to an unreaſon-
able or exceffive grief; and though hun an weak-
neſs prevents him from furmounting his affic-
tion entirely, yet, his refolution will prevail,
in a great meaſure, againſt the first tranſports.
of his grief. A fenfe of fhame will conceal
part of his pains, in his own bofom; and,
being kept in awe by the world, he will bluſh
to ſay, or act, in its prefence, many things,
he might not fcruple to do when alone. As he
cannot be what he would, he at leaft attempts.
to appear to others, fuch as he ought. Diftrefs.
and paffion are his tormentors, but reafon and
law preſcribe patience and refignation; his will,,
even while he is agitated by theſe contrary emo-
tions, conftantly declaring in favour of the
latter.
Reaſon, indeed, requires that we should be
patient in adverfity; that we should not add to
its weight by fruitlefs complaints, that fublu-
nary objects fhould not be regarded above their
juft value; that we ſhould not wafte, in lament-
ing our misfortunes, that affiftance which na-
ture has furniſhed for foftening their rigour;
and lastly, that we should fometimes reflect on
the
284 ON THEATRICAL IMITATION!
t
the impoffibility of preventing what muft hap-
pen, and to know ourfelves well enough to
judge, whether the event be a good or an
evil.
↑
It is thus a wife and moderate man will be-
have, when attacked by misfortune; he will
try to make an advantage of his very calamities,
as a prudent gamefter endeavours to apply an
unlucky hit to his own benefit; and inſtead of
whining like a child, who falls againſt a ſtone,
and weeps over it, he can bear when neceffa y
the probe that fearches his wound; and will
even lofe his blood in order to eſtabliſh his
health.
It must therefore be allowed that conftancy
and reſolution in our afflictions, are the effect
of reaſon, and that tears, lamentation and de-
fpair, proceed from a faculty of the foul, quite
oppofite to the other, weaker, leſs ſpirited, and
much inferior in dignity.
Now it is from this pufillanimous and ſen-
fible part, that all the affecting imitations we
fee reprefented in the theatre, are derived. The
prudent man, always confiftent with himſelf,
is not ſo eaſily imitated, and if he were, the re-
preſentation would be wanting in that agree-
able variety which conftitutes its value with the
vulgar. An image would be little interefting,
that is fo unlike themſelves, and in which they
could perceive neither their manners, nor paſ-
fions. The human heart never affimilates the
objects, to which it is an abfolute ftranger. So
the poet, who knows the way to fuccefs, in
aiming to pleaſe the taſte of the vulgar, takes
care, never to prefent them with the fublime
image of an heart,, replete with fortitude, and
fo
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
285
'fo far mafter of itſelf, as to liften only to the
voice of wisdom; but he ravifhes his audience
by characters, made up of inconſiſtencies and
contradictions; who make the theatre refound
with their exclamations; who compel us to pity
them, even whilft they do no more than their duty,
and make us think, what a terrible thing virtue
is, that renders its friends fo miferable. It is by
fucharts, with fome eafy diverfities of imi
tation, the poet flatters and affects his audience,
and plays with their paffions at pleaſure.
! The cuſtom of feeing thofe perfons, whom
the poet has brought into our efteem, given up
to the rage and government of their paffions,
warps our judgments with reſpect to what is
praife-worthy, fo that we accuftom ourſelves to
honour weakneſs, under the name of fenfibi-
lity; and to treat thofe, as brutes, and void
of fentiment, who prefer the feverity of duty,
to the indulgence of their natural affections.
On the contrary, we efteem thofe, as good-
natured, who being ſtrongly affected with any
thing, are the ſport of every wind that blows;
who weep, like filly women, for the lofs of
what was dear to them; who become unjust,
through à mifapplied friendſhip, in order to
ſerve thoſe they love; who know no rule but
the blind dictates of their partiality. Who,
always praiſed by that fex, to whom they are
flaves, and whom only they imitate, have no
virtues but their paffions, nor merit but their
weakneffes. So that equanimity, fortitude,
perfeverance, the love of juftice, and the force
of reaſon, become infenfibly odious qualities,
and even deteftable vičės.
Honour
286
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
Honour is beſtowed on men, who only de-
ferve our contempt, and the fubverfion of all
juft opinions, is the never-failing effect of lef-
fons taught at the theatre.
It is with reafon therefore, we have blamed
the imitations of the poet, and that we place
him on the fame rank with the painter; whether
on account of their being equally removed from
truth or becauſe that both the one and the
other, flattering the weak part of the ſoul, and
neglecting to pleaſe the rational, turn the order
of our faculties upfide down, and make the
better part of us fubfervient to the worſt.
Even as that perfon in the commonwealth, who
ſhould bring good fubjects into a ſtate of ſub-
jection to the bad, and place rebels in the feats
of the magiftrates, would be a traitor to his
country, and an enemy to the ftate; fo the
poet by his imitations brings diffentions and
death into the republic of the foul, by excit-
ing and nouriſhing the baſeft of the faculties,
at the expence of the more noble by wafting
all his ftrength on fubjects, the leaft worthy
his regard, confounding by vain reſemblances,
the beauty of truth, with the falfe attraction
that is pleafing to the populace, and throwing
down the barriers between mimic fplendour and
real magnificence.
Where fhall we find thofe daring fpirits,
that would venture to oppofe the care the poet
takes to corrupt or difcourage them? When
in Homer, or fome other tragic writer, we fee
an hero, loaded with affliction, lamenting and
beating his breaft; an Achilles, the fon of a
goddefs, fometimes ſtretched on the ground,
and
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
287
and throwing handfuls of burning fand on his
head, fometimes running like a Demoniack
along the fhore, and mingling the moſt ſavage
howlings, with the hoarfe murmur of the waves;
a Priam, illuſtrious for his dignity, venerable
for his age, and for the merit of his numerous
offspring, rolling himfelf on the ground, and pol-
luting his filver locks in the mire, filling the air
with curfes, and arraigning the juſtice of the
gods. Who could be infenfible of his com-
plaints? We should take a pleaſure in fharing
his afflictions. Who does not find correfpond-
ing fentiments raifed in his own mind? Who
does not feriouſly applaud the author, and ce-
lebrate his art for drawing fuch maſter-ſtrokes?
And yet, when any domeftic or real misfortune
affects us, we pride ourſelves in bearing it with
moderation, and not fuffering our tears to flow.
We then regard the courage we have fhewed,
as a manly virtue, and fhould think ourſelves
fpiritlefs as women, did we weep and groan
like the heroes reprefented on the ftage, and
whofe paflions claimed fo much our admiration
and pity. Are not thofe mighty uſeful enter-
tainments, where the examples we moſt ap-
plaud, are fuch, as we would bluſh to imitate?
and where the follies we are ſo much intereſted
in, demand all our care, in order to fhun them
in our private calamities?
Thus, the moft noble faculty of the foul,
by laying the empire of itſelf, bends with eaſe
to the tyranny of the paffions. It no longer
reftrains our cries and tears, it gives us up to
the weakneſs of being afflicted for objects quite
strange to us, and under the pretext of gene-
rous
288 ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
rous pity for chimerical misfortunes, far from
letting us deſpiſe ourſelves for our exceffive
grief, far from preventing our applauſe of what
has difhonoured us, it ſubmits us to the vileſt
abaſements, through the falfe tenderneſs with
which we are infpired. It ſuffers our vain
felf-admiration of our own generofity, in
pitying the diftreffes of others; this is a plea-
fure we believe, to have gained without weak-
nefs, and which we indulge without remorfe.
But if we thus fubject ourſelves to the af-
.flictions of others, how fhall we fupport our
own? how courageouſly refift real evils, when
we are ſo much foftened by imaginary ones.
What! fhall we be the only perfons who have
no command of our own fenfibility? Who is
there, that can deny thofe fentiments of pity
to himſelf, who fo liberally beftows them on
ftrangers? I may ſay as much with regard to
comedy..
The indecent laughter it raiſes, the habit of
ridiculing every thing, even fubjects the moſt
ferious, and the pernicious effect it has on our
minds, by turning the moſt reſpectable charac-
ters into theatrical buffoons, the fame may be
faid of love, anger, and the rest of the paf-
fions, which being rendered every day more
familiar in jeft, we loſe the power of refift-
ing them, when they attack us in earneſt.
In fhort, from what point foever we view the
theatre, and its imitations, we conftantly fee,
that by animating the difpofitions it ought to
fupprefs, it gives us a mafter that ſhould be
our fubject. Far from making us wifer or
happier, it renders us more miferable and vi-
cious
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
289
cious, and makes us pay dearly for the pains
it takes to flatter and pleaſe us.
When therefore, friend Glaucus, you meet
with any of the enthufiaftic admirers of Homer;
when they tell you, that he was the inftructor
of Greece, and mafter of all the arts; that the
government of kingdoms, and the conduct of
focial life, the education of mankind, and all
civil regulations are taught in his writings;
honour their zeal, love and efteem them, as
men of excellent endowments; admire with
them the wondrous talents of fo great a ge
nius: agree with them that Homer is a per-
fect poet, and the chief of tragic authors; but
ftill remember, that hymns in honour of the
gods, and the praiſes of great men, are the
only fpecies of poetry that ſhould be admitted
into the Republic of learning: and that if we
once allow the imitative mufe, which charms
and deceives us by the ſweetneſs of her
voice, the actions of men will no longer
have either laws, or the beautiful and good
for their object, but pleaſure and tenderneſs
will ufurp their places; inflamed paffions
will change fituation with reafon; the citizens
will be no more virtuous and juft, always obe-
dient to duty and equity, but poor weak crea-
tures, ready to do either good or evil indifferent-
ly, as their inclination leads them. Laftly, for-
get not that in baniſhing from our Republic,
all fpecies of the drama, we do not purfue a
rude and barbarous prepoffeffion, and are far
from defpifing the beauties of the art; but pre-
fer thoſe immortal charms, which are the refult
of the harmony of the foul, and the good dif-
pofition of the faculties.
VOL. II. Misc.
O
Let
290 ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
Let us go a little further.-In order to
guard ourſelves againſt partiality, and to avoid
that old difagreement that ftill reigns among
poets and philofophers, let us leave poetry in
poffeffion of all it can alledge in its defence,
nor deprive ourſelves of the innocent pleafures
it procures us.
Let us pay that deference to truth, as, to
refpect even the refemblance of it, and leave
it at liberty to make itſelf underſtood, in all
that can add to its reputation. Whilſt we im-
pofe filence on the poets, let us permit their
friends to defend them, and to fhew us, that
the art we condemn is fomething more than
pleafing, and is of ufe to the citizens and com-
monwealth. Let us hear their arguments, with-
out prejudice, and let us agree that we are
great gainers, if they prove, we may, without
hazard, give up ourſelves to fuch ſweet impref-
fions. Otherwife, my dear friend, as a wife
man, who is enamoured of a miſtreſs, ſeeing
her virtue on the point of failing, breaks, tho'
with regret, fuch pleaſing fetters, and facrifices
love to duty and reafon; fo infatuated from our
youth, by the feducing attractions of poetry, and
too fenfible of its charms, yet we ſhall be thus
able by the force of reafon to defend ourſelves
from its enchantments. Though we dare in-
dulge ourſelves in ſomething we have an incli-
nation for, yet we fhould not venture at leaſt
to put ourſelves in the way of the first object of
our love. We may ftill fay there is nothing
ferious or uſeful in the parade of the drama:
in liftening fometimes to poetry, we fhall
guard against its abufe, and we ſhall never
allow it to diſturb order and liberty, neither in
the
ON THEATRICAL IMITATION.
291
the fpiritual Republic of the foul, nor in that
of civil fociety. The alternative of becoming
better or worse, is no light matter, and we
cannot be too cautious in our choice.
It is a fine thing, I admit, to refign our-
felves to the charms of that bewitching talent,
and to acquire by it, riches, honours, power,
and an high reputation; but power, renown,
wealth, and pleafure difappear like ſhadows, be-
fore the glorious light of juftice and virtue.
O 2
[ 293 ]
SYLVIA'S WALK*.
I.
HAT pleafing tranſports fill my heart!
How ſweet, in theſe delightful groves,
WHA
Our pains or pleafures to impart,
To the fair object of our loves!
Where leafy fhades, and cryſtal ſtreams,,
Raiſe fancy in poetic dreams!
II..
Bleft Solitude, romantic bow'rs,
Where happy peace, and calm repofe,
Gently beguile the lazy hours,
And eaſe the fmart of mental woes,
Cruel remorſe ſhall end my days,
When thy foft charms no longer pleafe.
III.
Be gone, vain hopes, and projects vain,
Far hence from this fecure retreat;
No more my heart fhall entertain.
A wifh fo low, as to be great.
Your empty promiſe, long believ'd,
I'm now too wife to be deceiv'd.
* Written in a place fo called.
03
IV. Alas!
294
SYLVIA'S WALK.
}
IV.
Alas! vain man's a fummer flow'r
Born to be pluckt by Fate's decree :
Let him enjoy the preſent hour,
Not anxious of futurity,
But time improve, if he be wife,
Nor haften what fo fwiftly flies.
V.
"Tis virtue and fair innocence,
Without fore knowledge can fupply
A fund of wealth, at fmall expence,
Content, and bleft tranquillity.
Contentment to the wife is giv'n,
Beft bounty of indulgent heav'a!
VI.
Paffions with, bafe infidious fway,
(Source of our pleafures and our pains),
Firſt reaſon's fortreſs do betray,-
Then load us with its galling chains.
From paffion all our miſchiefs flow-
Its reign is anarchy, its fruit is woe,
VII.
I'll fate purſue the fordid knave
Who fees with joy the fhining ftore;
To want and penury a ſlave,
Not to enjoy, but heap up more.
Riches
SYLVIA'S WALK.
295.
Riches to fuch a wretch are fent,
To be his curfe and puniſhment.
VII.
Shame on the fierce and haughty foul,
Whofe odious infolence of place,
Whoſe damn'd ambition would controul, -
And keep in chains the human race.
Till one as infolent and great,
Shall hurl him from his fplendid feat.
IX.
Shame to the man wherever found, ·
Whom no misfortune ever moves,
Who calmly views diftreſs around,
And nought befide his own dear perfon loves.
May he, when ftript of all his pelf,
Find no one kinder to himſelf.
X.
In this as truth we may believe,
Some fouls are to fome crimes ally'd,
And fuch impreffions do receive,
From paffions that in them refide;
But fouls ally'd to good we fee,
From fouler crimes are always free.
0 4
XI. But
་
296
SYLVIA'S WALK.
XI.
But tender hearts, tho' good, are found
From virtue's ſtricter paths to ftray,
When youthful pleaſures dance around,
And love points out the flow'ry way.
But theſe the fofter paffions move; —
All ruder ones are huſh'd by love.
XII.
Why fhould thoſe paffions be a crime,
Which by the fofteſt impulſe move ?
In ev'ry age, in every clime,
'Tis nature that infpires with love.
Then can it be the will of fate,
That love fhould e'er be turn'd to hate?
XIII.
Theſe charming leffons learn'd with eaſe,
To practice can the young induce,
I that have loft the pow'r to pleaſe,
Should be confign'd to other ufe..
Morals I preach, which are a jeſt,
While love fits brooding in the breaſt.
XIV.
Ah me! why thus the truant play,
Already paſt my flow'ry prime ?
Why in the paths of pleaſure ftray,
When blooming youth gives place to time?
Too
SYLVIA'S WALK.
297
Too foon, alas, fhall hoary age
Drive theſe mock Cupids off the ſtage.
XV.
To this fucceeds fevere difguft
Of all, but ftern philofophy;
Then the ftrict rules of wifdom muft.
Ariſe from hard neceffity,
Which cenſure youth and pleaſure paſt,
When age forbids its joys to tafte.
XVI.
Tho' cloath'd with wifdom's aweful mien,
Ev'n age is not from folly free,
The hoary faint is often ſeen,
To trip in vice and vanity.
As veffels by rude tempefts toft,
Juſt making of their port are loft.
XVII.
Thus under wifdom's form we cheat,,
Nor can the prying world diſcloſe,
Evin nature favʼring the deceit,
We on ourſelves fo oft impofe.
Tho' far remov'd from wiſdom's voice,-
We call that wife, which is our choice..
XVIII.
So in the bloom of hardy youth.
Is vice by folly often led,
Error affumes the garb of truth,
And plants itſelf in t'other's ftead..
0 5
The
298
SYLVIA'S WALK
<
The four fanatic cants and lies,
Then thinks himself both good and wife.
XIX.
Ah! could we find but one true fage,
How different would his manners prove
Agreeable to youth or age;
In friendly mirth and focial love.
His worſhip pure, his manners free,-
O give me ſuch a friend as he.
F
[ 299 ]-
LETTER
FROM
Mr. J. J. ROUSSEAU,
то
M. de GINGINS de MOIRY,
Member of the Sovereign Council of the -
Republic of Berne, and Bailiff of the
Lordship of Yverdon:
SIR,
A
Vitam impendere vero.
Greeable to your kind permiffion, I take
this opportunity of calling to your remem-
brance, one, who with an heart over-flowing
with gratitude, will ever cherish the fentiments
with which you have inſpired him. The fa-
vourable opinion I have entertained of man-
kind, has been the fource of all my misfor-
tunes, but they foon convinced me how greatly
I was miſtaken. It was requifite I fhould bc-
come acquainted with you, and the happy few,
who have the honour of reſembling you, in order
to prevent my blufhing for an error which coft
об
3
me.
300
LETTER, &c.
me fo dear. I was fenfible that truth is not to
be ſpoken in this age with impunity, nor per-
haps, in any other; I was fatisfied to fuffer,
for the caufe of God, but I did not expect, I
confefs, the extraordinary and unuſual treat-
ment I have fince experienced. Of all the evils
incident to mankind, fhame and contempt
are thoſe, againſt which a liberal mind is leaſt
prepared. The moft fanguine barbarity took
me by ſurprize. My reputation publicly de-
famed, by the very perfons appointed to avenge
injured innocence; treated as a malefactor in my
native country, at a time when I meant to do
it honour; purfued as a criminal, and driven
from every fanctuary, where I hoped to find
fhelter and protection; nought remained for me
but trouble and perplexity of mind. Without
your affiftance I ſhould never have been comfort-
ed. Your confolations, illuftrious friend, have al-
leviated my mifery; your converfation has raifed
my ſpirits, and your eſteem, by foothing my pride,
has put me in a fituation of mind that will en-
able me to preferve my dignity. I have gained
more by your affection, than I have loft by my
difgrace. I hope, Sir, the continuation of it, in
fpite of the bufy clamours of fanaticifin, or the
artful calumnies of impiety; you are pof-
feffed of too much virtue, to hate me for dar-
ing to believe in God, and too wiſe to puniſh
me for uſing that reaſon which he hath given
me.
Motiers, July 21, 1762.
[-301 ]
LETTER
FROM
Mr. J. J. ROUSSE A U,
M.
то
FAVRE,
Firſt Syndic of the Republic of GENEVA:
Wherein M. ROUSSEAU renounces
for ever his Right of being a Burgeſs
and Citizen of the City and Republic
of Geneva.
SIR,
BEING
+
EING at length recovered from the profound
aftoniſhment into which the unexpected
proceedings of the grand council had thrown
me, I have refolved to act, what the dictates of
honour and reaſon enjoin, though with the ut-
moft violence to my heart; I therefore, Sir, de-
clare to you, and intreat your doing the fame,
on my part, to the grand council, that I now
refign and renounce my right of burgerſhip
in the city and republic of Geneva; and having
endeavoured to diſcharge all the duties annexed
to that title, to the utmoſt of my abilities, with-
out
302
LETTER, &c.
out enjoying any of its advantages, I do now
intend, in breaking off my public connexion
with the ftate, to remain a paffive fpectator of its
concerns.
I have exerted myſelf in ftriving to render
the name of GENEVAN honourable. I have
loved my country-men with tenderneſs; I have
neglected nothing that might deferve their love
in return: but no body has ever been more un-
fucceſsful; I could wish to pleaſe them, even
whilft loaded with their hatred. The laſt fa-
crifice I am capable of making, is that of a
name, which has always been dear to me.
But, Sir, though I may be a ftranger to my
country, I can never regard it with indiffe
rence.
I fhall remain attached by a tender remem-
brance, and fhall forget nothing of it but its
injuries. May it always flourish, and fee its
glory increaſed from day to day! And may it
never want a perpetual fucceffion of citizens,
better, and more fortunate than I! Be pleafed
to accept the affurance of my profound re-
Spects t.
Moticrs-Travers, May 12, 1763.
+ It was determined to accept of the refignation-
of M. Rouffeau, and that his letter fhould be cn-
tered in the regiſter.
I 303 I
瞥
​A
LETTER
FROM
Mr. ROUSSEAU,
TOA
FELLOW-CITIZEN,
In Anfwer to his Letter of the 26th May 1763.
1
Perceive, Sir, by the honour of your letter of
the 18th inftant, that you form a very in-
confiderate judgment of me, under my dif-
grace it is fo eafy a thing.to opprefs the mi-
ferable, that one is generally difpofed to conftrue
their very misfortunes into crimes. You fay
that my behaviour is unaccountable; yet it is
as clear, as the fad neceffity that reduced me to
it. Difgraced in fo public a manner in my own
country, without one friendly voice in oppofi-
tion to the cruel fentence, after ten months
hope, I ought certainly to take the refolution
that only could preferve my honour fo cruelly
offended; it was attended with the moſt lively
fen-
6
304
LETTER, &c.
fenfations of grief, but what could I do? If I
fhould voluntarily continue a member of the
ſtate after what had paffed, would not that be
confenting to my own difhonour? I cannot
comprehend how you can afk me, what injury
my country had done me; can a man of your
underſtanding be ignorant, that in all public
tranfactions whatever is done by the magiftrate,
is confidered as the act of the ftate, when none
of thofe, whofe right it was to diffent, gave
the leaſt oppofition? It is not to the people of
Geneva alone, that I am accountable, it is to
myſelf, to the public, by whom I am unfortu-
nately known; and to pofterity, to whom I may
be known. If I was fool enough to endea-
vour to perfuade the rest of Europe, that
the Genevans difapproved of the conduct of
their magiſtrates, would not they laugh at me?`
Do we not know (would they reply) that the
order of burgeffes have a right to remonftrate
in all cafes, where they think the laws injured,
and in which it difapproves of the conduct of
the magiftrates? What has been done in a
year and half, that you have waited? if only
five or fix burgeffes had entered a proteft, you
might be believed with regard to what you have
advanced; that ſtep would have been eaſy and
legal; without any diſturbance of the public.
tranquillity: why was not that done? Does
not the filence of every body give the lie to
your affertion? Shew us the marks of that
difapprobation you have attributed to them.
This, Sir, is what the world would anſwer, and
that very justly; we judge men by their actions,
and not by their thoughts.
Per-
-
LETTER, &c.
305
Perhaps there were many ways of revenging
the injury; but there was but one, that could
repel it without violence, and I have chofen it.
But if that does hurt to myſelf only, do I not
deſerve pity, inſtead of the reproaches I have
met with? You tell me, I had no occafion to
demand the abdication of my burgerſhip; but
this proves nothing; we differ widely in our
reckoning, for I pretended not to demand that
refignation, but to give it. I had ftudied my
rights long enough to know them, though I
never uſed them but in that one inftance; hav-
ing on my fide, custom, the authority of reaſon,
and the law of nature; that of Grotius, of the
moſt learned civilians, and even of the council
themſelves; I am not therefore to regulate my
conduct by your miſtaken notions. Every one
knows that any agreement infringed by one
party, becomes void on the fide of the other:
fo that if I owed every thing to my country,
does it owe me nothing in return? I have
payed the debt I owed it, has it payed me what
was my due? I confefs, we are never at li-
berty to forfake it; but when it rejects us, we
may then quit it without breach of duty. We
might do fo in the caſes I have mentioned, and
why not in mine? If I took an oath to my
country, did it not alfo take one to me? By
violating its engagements, it has acquitted me
of mine, and in offering me affronts of an ig-
nominious nature, it has left me at liberty to.
return them. You fay, if the citizens had
made any fuch repreſentation to the council, you
ſhould not wonder if they had been impriſoned:
nor I neither, it would not have furprized me;
bea
306
LETTER, &c.
becauſe, thoſe who were armed with force,
might have acted as they pleafed. But as there
is a law (which will never be obferved) to pre-
vent a citizen from departing out of the terri-
tory of the republic, who would preferve the
privileges of one, without licence, fo no perfon
has occafion to demand a right he is in poffeffion.
of; when a Genevan chooſes to quit his coun-
try to establish himself abroad, no body ever
thought of objecting against it as a crime. A
man is never fent to prifon for that; it is true,
fuch a renunciation is feldom folemnly execut-
ed; but thoſe who in this manner disfranchiſe
themfelves, have not perhaps received a public
affront, and confequently, are not obliged to
make a furrender of their right of burgerfhip
into the hands of the fociety that gave it. I
confidered with myſelf, and waited a long time
before I took a ſtep that has ruined me. To you,
O people of Geneva, I trufted my honour!
I was entirely fatisfied with you, but you have
fo badly taken care of the depofite, that I was
compelled to remove it out of your hands..
But my dear countrymen, whom I fhall al-
ways love, in ſpite of your ingratitude, I beg
you may not, by your cruel and difhoneft pur-
poſes, oblige me to write my apology to the
public: fpare me, I pray, in the midft of all
my other calamities, the grief of defending my-
felf at your expence. Remember, it is much.
against my inclination that I am obliged to an-
fwer you in this manner: truth on this occafion
has no fecond choice. If you had addreſſed me
with lefs rudenefs, I fhould have made you my
confident, and have poured all my griefs into
your
LETTER, &c.
397
your bofom. Your friendſhip fhall be always
dear to me, and I fhall think it my duty to cul-
tivate it; but I conjure you, if you fhould
write to me again, to give no more fuch crueł.
proofs of it, and to confult better the goodneſs
of your own heart. I fincerely embrace you
with all mine.
[ 308 ]
FROM
Mr. ROUSSEAU,.
то
Ꭲ Ꮕ
Mr. PROFESSOR DE FELICE..
I
Motiers, March 14, 1765.
HAVE had no hand in writing the book in-
titled The Princes. I have never feen it,
and doubt even whether it exifts. I eafily com-
prehend from what quiver that arrow comes,
as well as many of the fame fort, and I find,
my enemies in defending themſelves, make uſe
of weapons worthy of their malice. As I have
never difowned any work that was mine, I have
a right to be credited, when I deny thofe that
are not. I beg, Sir, you will receive and pub-
lifh this declaration in favour of truth, and of
him who has nothing but that for his defence.
Be pleaſed to accept my reſpectful compliments.
I am, &c.
ROUSSEAU.
[ 309 ]
LETTER
M.
O F
ROUSSE A U,
To Mr. *
Motiers, May 28, 1764.
Tis doing a fignal fervice to a poor folitary
like me, fo remote from hearing news, to
acquaint him with what paffes relative to him-
ſelf. This is what you have very obligingly
done, in fending me a copy of my pretended
letter to his Grace the Archbishop of Aufch.
That letter, as you have gueffed, is no more
mine, than are all the falfe writings current at
Paris under my name. I have not ſeen the man-
date, to which this letter is an anfwer, I have
never heard of it, and till within theſe eight
days, I knew not that there was one M. Mon-
tillet who was Archbishop. I could fcarce be-
lieve that the author of that letter would feri-
ouſly perfuade the world that it was mine. Have
I not cares enough of my own, without med-
dling with other people's affairs? When was
I ever known to be a party man?
intereſt could have fo fuddenly changed my
mind? Are the Jefuits in a better fituation
What new
than
310
LETTER, &c.
than when I refuſed to write againſt them in
their difgrace? Who has ever known me to
be fo bafe, fo inconfiderate, as to infult the
miferable? What is the fate of the Jeſuits to
me; be it what it will? Is a melancholy
truth dearer to one fide than the other? and
fhould I fuffer lefs perfecution, whether they
were up or down? On the other hand, let
the letter be read with attention, and every one
will judge with you that I am not the author; it is
contradictory and confuſed, as may be obſerved
even in the addreffes; it is dated from Neufchatel,
where I never yet have fet my foot; the phraſe
of most humble fervant is ufed, which is not my
manner of concluding a letter. They make
me take the title of Citizen of Geneva, which
I have laid down. At the very beginning of its
they make me very warm in favour of M. de
Voltaire, one of my moft fanguine perfecutors;
and which comes therefore with great pro-
priety from a defence like mine; they affect to
mimic my phrafe, and theſejmitations falfify them-
felves; the letter may be written in a better
ftile than I am capable of, but it is not mine.
They there give me low expreffions, make me
fay indelicacies which are not to be found in
any of my writings; they make me uſe the
word you, in addreffing myſelf to God, a mode
of expreffion I do not blame, but never prac-
tife. To imagine me the author of this letter,
you must fuppofe I wanted to appear in dif-
guife. If my name were not fubfcribed, no-
body would be eaſily perfuaded that it really
came from me.
Such, Sir, are the honourable weapons ufed
by my adverfaries; not content to attack me in
my
LETTER, &c.
311
my own works, they take a more cruel method
of attributing to me their own fictions. Indeed
the public has not been hitherto impofed on,
and it muſt be very blind if it could now be de-
ceived. The decifion I expect in this affair is
but a mean confolation after fo many injuries.
You know of the freſh affliction I have received;
I fuffer more in the lofs of M. de Luxemburg,
than in all the reft of my misfortunes. I fhall
feel it, fo long as I am on this fide the grave.
He was my comforter while he lived, and
will be my protector after his death. His me-
mory, dear to and revered by every one, will
defend mine from the outrages of my enemies;
and when the tongue of calumny fhall endea-
vour to fully it with malediction and obloquy,
the world will fay, How can all this be poffible,
the honeſteſt man in France was his friend?
I thank you, Sir, and falute you with all my
heart.
ROUSSEAU.
END of the SECOND VOLUME.
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