v>;lOS-ANG
 
 THE CHARACTERS 
 
 THEOPHRASTUS; 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK, 
 
 AND ILLUSTKATED BY 
 
 TO WHICH ARE SUBJOINED 
 
 THE GREEK TEXT, WITH NOTES, 
 
 AND HINTS ON THE 
 INDIVIDUAL VARIETIES OF HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 FRANCIS HOWELL. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOSIAH TAYLOR, 
 
 ARCHITECTURAL LIBRARY, LONDON, 
 
 1824.
 
 Stack 
 
 to 
 
 <T 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 List of the Engravings . . . . vii 
 
 Preface ,,; 
 
 A I 
 
 THEOPHRASTUS to POLYCLES . . .3 
 
 The Dissembler . g 
 
 The Adulator . . 9 
 
 The Garrulous . . 13 
 
 The Rustic . 16 
 
 The Plausible . . 19 
 
 The Ruffian . . 22 
 
 The Loquacious . 25 
 
 The Fabricator of News . . 28 
 
 The Sordid . 31 
 
 The Shameless . . 35 
 
 The Parsimonious ... 37 
 
 The Impure . . 40 
 
 The Blunderer . . 42 
 
 The Busybody . 44 
 
 The Stupid . . 46 
 
 The Morose . . . .48 
 
 Theoph. i, 
 
 2230S04
 
 
 
 Vi CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Superstitious . 50 
 
 The Petulant ... 53 
 
 The Suspicious . .55 
 
 The Filthy 57 
 
 The Disagreeable . . . 59 
 
 The Vain . 61 
 
 The Penurious 
 
 The Ostentatious . . . 66 
 
 The Proud . 69 
 
 The Fearful .71 
 
 The Old Trifler . 74 
 
 The Detractor 76 
 
 The Oligarch 78 
 
 The Malignant 81 
 
 0EOOPA2TOY XAPAKTHPE2 . 85 
 
 Notes; and Hints on the Individual Varieties of 
 
 Human Nature . 159 
 General Remarks on the Study of Human Nature 249
 
 LIST OF THE ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 iii. Outline from a Bust of Theophrastus. Engraved by 
 
 S. Williams. 
 
 6. The Dissembler. Engraved by R. Austin. 
 
 8. Head of an American Serpent.^ Engraved by S. Wil- 
 
 9. The Adulator. / Hams. 
 13. The Garrulous. Engraved by M. Byfield. 
 16. The Rustic. Engraved by H. White. 
 
 18. The Clown and his Do. 
 
 Engraved by S. Williams. 
 
 m TU t5i -ui 
 19. The Plausible. 
 
 22. The Ruffian. Engraved by J. Thompson. 
 
 25. The Loquacious. ^ 
 
 ^Engraved by S. Williams. 
 28. The Fabricator of News. J
 
 viii LIST OF THE ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 31. The Sordid. 1 
 
 f Engraved by R. Austin. 
 
 35. The Shameless. J 
 
 37. The Parsimonious. "1 
 
 40. The Impure. 
 
 ^Engraved by S. Williams. 
 
 42. The Blunderer. 
 
 44. The Busybody. J 
 
 46. The Stupid. Engraved by W. Walker. 
 
 48. The Morose. Engraved by S. Williams. 
 
 50. The Superstitious. Engraved by T. Branston. 
 
 53. The Petulant. Engraved by M. Byfield. 
 
 55. The Suspicious. Engraved by H. White. 
 
 57. The Filthy. Engraved by T. Branston. 
 
 59. The Disagreeable. Engraved by W. Walker, 
 
 61. The Vain. Engraved by S. Williams. 
 
 63. Head of a Cockatoo. Engraved by J. Thompson. 
 
 64. The Penurious. Engraved by R. Austin. 
 
 66. The Ostentatious, Engraved by J. Thompson. 
 
 69. The Proud. Engraved by H. White. 
 
 71. The Fearful. Engraved by T. Mosses. 
 
 74. The Old Trifler. Engraved by R. Austin. 
 
 75. Profile of a Frenchman. -) 
 
 76. The Detractor. ^Engraved by S. Williams. 
 78. The Oligarch. J 
 
 80. Head of a Rhinoceros. Engraved by H. White. 
 
 81. The Malignant. Engraved by S. Williams.
 
 LIST OF THE ENGRAVINGS. IX 
 
 ENGRAVINGS IN THE GREEK TEXT. 
 
 Kef ST. [The Ruffian.] Head of an African Wild Boar. 
 Engraved by H. White. 
 
 Kef I. [The Shameless.] Head of a > 
 
 I Engraved by 
 Vulture. 
 
 S.Williams, 
 [iser. j 
 
 Kef IA. [The Parsimonious.] The Miser. 
 
 Kef K. [The Filthy.] Head of a Sow. Engraved by 
 J. Thompson. 
 
 Kef KIT. [The Fearful.] The Coward. Engraved by 
 R. Austin. 
 
 Kef KH. [The Detractor.] The Gecko; a Reptile found 
 in the West Indies : the venom of this animal 
 is diffused over the whole surface of the body, 
 and exudes from every pore. Engraved by 
 S. Williams. 
 
 ENGRAVINGS IN THE NOTES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 17.0. The Sophist. Engraved by S. Williams. 
 
 180. Profile of an Idiot. Engraved by M. Byfield. 
 
 185. Head of a Girl. Engraved by S. Williams. 
 
 196. Outline of a Skull. Engraved by R. Austin.
 
 X 
 
 PAGE 
 
 LIST OT THE ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 225. Head of a sleeping Female Infant. Engraved by J. 
 
 Thompson. 
 
 226. The Sarcastic. Engraved by R. Austin. 
 
 232. The Enthusiast. ^ Engraved by S. Wil- 
 
 241. Head of a Chinese Woman. J liams.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE marble that has retained upon its fleshy 
 surface the frolic smile, or the pettish frown, 
 or the haughty glance, that was fixed there 
 by the hand of art twenty centuries ago, 
 awakens in our bosoms a more vivid sym- 
 pathy with the distant and forgotten members 
 of the great family of man, gives us a fuller 
 conviction of the permanent and perfect iden- 
 tity of our species, and places us in nearer 
 communion with past ages, than volumes of 
 the grave records of history. In proportion 
 as the aim of the artist was lower, and his 
 subject more familiar, the interest of this kind 
 which the work excites is enhanced. The super-
 
 XH PREFACE. 
 
 human forms of ancient art, and the personages 
 of history, and the heroes of poetry, stand 
 as far from our sympathies as the beings of 
 another world. But in the more playful and 
 simply imitative creations of the chisel, the 
 eye is attracted by an irresistible claim of fa- 
 mily relationship, which we are delighted to 
 perceive and to acknowledge. 
 
 Their intrinsic beauty, therefore, is not the sole 
 source of the pleasurable emotions that seem to 
 cluster about these precious relics of early 
 ages. They come down to us as monuments 
 of the unimpaired sameness of human nature, 
 and of the entireness of its lesser, as well as 
 of its stronger impulses: They are evidences 
 of the perpetuity of all its fine varieties of 
 transient feeling, and of all its diversities of 
 original disposition. 
 
 The Characters of Theophrastus possess an 
 interest and a value of the same kind, and in a 
 degree beyond most of the remains of Grecian
 
 PREFACE. Xlll 
 
 literature. They are inartificial and exact por- 
 traitures of the very peculiarities of temper 
 that are every day passing under our own 
 observation. The phrases and the actions of 
 the beings described by the Successor of Aris- 
 totle, are precisely the phrases and the actions 
 of the beings with whom we are ourselves 
 conversant. These faithful records of human 
 nature serve to prove that, under every chang- 
 ing influence of time, and climate, of institu- 
 tions, and opinions, and manners, Mind, with 
 all its shades ,of difference, is the same. 
 
 In this view, these brief but accurate de- 
 scriptions of some leading varieties of cha- 
 racter, will have a peculiar value in the esti- 
 mation of the student of human nature ; and 
 it is chiefly in this light that they are now 
 presented to the reader. 
 
 Theophrastus has been called, not, I think, 
 with strict propriety, the father of the drama- 
 tic style. It is true that his Characters have 
 
 Theoph. c
 
 XIV PREFACE. 
 
 always been considered as standard models 
 in their kind ; and the numberless imitations 
 they have produced have chiefly been of a 
 comic or satiric cast. Yet I am strongly 
 disposed to think, that he has been placed 
 at the head of a class to which he had 
 no intention that his writings should belong. 
 There are many reasons for believing that, 
 far from proposing to furnish merely dramatic 
 or satirical pictures of manners, he designed to 
 collect materials for a comprehensive, and a 
 scientific Natural History of Man. The style 
 of the work itself, the terms in which he an- 
 nounces his design in the prefatory epistle to 
 his friend,_the scientific character of his other 
 works, his known habits and pursuits, and 
 the place he occupied as the appointed suc- 
 cessor of Aristotle, are circumstances that 
 strongly favour this opinion. I am aware that 
 such is not the view that has been taken of 
 the Characters by former editors and trans-
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 lators. But the prevailing opinion has plainly 
 been derived, rather from the use made of these 
 descriptions by imitators, than from the nature 
 of the work itself. This matter, however, is 
 by no means of sufficient importance to make 
 it worthy of a lengthened discussion. 
 
 The Characters of Theophrastus have been 
 known to modern readers through the medium 
 of innumerable translations ; but, I know not 
 from what cause, much less so in England, 
 than in Germany, Italy, or France. In this 
 country they have been read chiefly in the 
 loose paraphrase of Bruyere. This acute and 
 ingenious writer had far too nitich originality 
 to allow his author to be fairly seen: and 
 in perusing his entertaining volumes, the last 
 things the reader thinks of are ' The Charac- 
 ters of Theophrastus.' They served him, as 
 they have served some other distinguished 
 writers, as the mere text of his own thoughts. 
 
 On the supposition that the design of
 
 XVI PREFACE. 
 
 Theophrastus was scientific, not dramatic, his 
 work, if he had lived to complete it, would 
 have formed a systematic Nosology of Mind, 
 consisting of concise diagnostics of all the 
 most frequent morbid affections of the under- 
 standing and the temper. In the Notes sub- 
 joined to the translation, this idea has been 
 pursued ; and, as occasion presented itself, I 
 have endeavoured to point out the use that 
 might be made of such descriptions of symp- 
 toms by the student of human nature. I have 
 also, in the course of these desultory hints, 
 suggested some methods, in the adoption of 
 which the Science of Mind might, as I believe, 
 be prosecuted with a prospect of important 
 advancements. 
 
 The nature of the subjects to which the 
 notes relate has led me to advert to the crude, 
 fantastic, and not altogether harmless theories 
 which, at present, attract a degree of popular 
 attention to the science of human nature.
 
 PREFACE. XVH 
 
 And having gone so far, I have ventured, in 
 the concluding pages of the volume, to draw 
 a comparison between the too timid and scru- 
 pulous course pursued by the reputed autho- 
 rities in the Science of Mind; and the un- 
 bounded temerity displayed by those who have 
 aspired to occupy the ground that has been 
 abandoned to them. 
 
 Verbal criticisms, or classical illustrations of 
 my author, I have not attempted ; though no- 
 thing is easier than to collect matter of this 
 sort. But the point and propriety of the de- 
 scriptions are perfectly intelligible without this 
 kind of aid ; or if it be desired, it may readily 
 be found in works that occupy a place in most 
 domestic libraries. For verbal criticism and 
 learned elucidation, the text of my author does, 
 indeed, afford inexhaustible occasions. His 
 style is abrupt ; his allusions to local circum- 
 stances and customs are frequent ; he employs 
 several phrases that are found in no other
 
 XVlll PREFACE. 
 
 writer ; and besides these sources of obscurity, 
 the text of the Characters has come down to 
 us in a very corrupted state. 
 
 The increasing taste for the study of the 
 richest and the noblest of all languages, that 
 of ancient Greece, and the wide diffusion of a 
 respectable measure of classical learning in this 
 country, may justify the presumption that, in 
 appending the Greek text to the translation, 
 the volume will be rendered more interesting 
 to many of those who may be its readers. 
 
 No scientific value is attached by the artist, 
 or the editor, to the graphic illustrations that 
 accompany the translation and the notes. 
 They are, it is true, the products of long-con- 
 tinued observation of faces and of tempers. 
 Yet they are presented without the protection 
 of any claim to physiognomical authority. The 
 same may be said of the few physiognomical 
 hints that are dispersed in the notes. Any one 
 who has studied forms and minds, during a
 
 PREFACE. XtX 
 
 number of years, might find it easy to fill 
 volumes with specious rules for discriminating 
 faculties and dispositions through their external 
 symbols. But the cautious observer will be 
 disposed to enjoin upon himself a great degree 
 of reserve on this topic ; not only from his ex- 
 perience of the uncertainty of such rules ; but 
 chiefly because, when given in a popular form, 
 they are peculiarly liable to be misunderstood, 
 and injuriously misapplied. Every man must" 
 be left to gain by his own observation as much 
 physiognomical skill as he can : or as much as 
 he thinks convertible to any useful purpose. 
 
 If the correspondence between external forms 
 and the qualities of mind shall ever be better 
 understood than it is at present, this addition 
 to our knowledge will assume a form that, 
 while it renders it available to the student in 
 the explication and arrangement of the indivi- 
 dual varieties of human nature, will remove it 
 from the danger of popular misuse.
 
 THE 
 
 CHARACTERS OF THEOPHRASTUS. 
 
 Tlteoph,
 
 THEOPHRASTUS TO POLYCLES. 
 
 I HAVE always been perplexed when I have en- 
 deavoured to account for the fact, that, among a 
 people, who, like the Greeks, inhabit the same 
 climate, and are reared under the same system of 
 education, there should prevail so great a diversity 
 of manners. 
 
 You know, my friend, that I have long been an 
 attentive observer of Human Nature : I am now in 
 the ninety-ninth year of my age ; and during the 
 whole course of my life I have conversed familiarly 
 with men of all classes, and of various climes ; nor 
 have I neglected closely to watch the actions oi
 
 individuals, as well the profligate as the vir- 
 tuous. With these qualifications I have thought 
 myself fitted for the task of describing those ha- 
 bitual peculiarities by which the manners of every 
 one are distinguished. I shall therefore present to 
 your view, in succession, the domestic conduct, and, 
 what may be termed, the besetting practices of 
 various characters. 
 
 I am willing, my friend Polycles, to believe that a 
 work of this kind may be beneficial to the succeeding 
 generation, who, by consulting these patterns of good 
 and of evil, may learn, at once, to avoid what is base, 
 and to assimilate their sentiments and their habits 
 to what is noble ; and thus become not unworthy of 
 their virtuous ancestors. 
 
 I now turn to my task : it will be your part to 
 follow my steps, and to judge of the correctness 
 of my observations. Omitting therefore any further
 
 prefatory matter, I commence by describing the 
 DISSEMBLER ; and in conformity with the plan 
 which I propose to pursue throughout the work, 
 I shall first briefly define the term ; and then pour- 
 tray the manners of the supposed individual to 
 whom the character is attributed. It is in this way 
 that I shall endeavour to exhibit, according to their 
 specific differences, the several dispositions incident 
 to Human Nature.
 
 I. 
 
 THE DISSEMBLER. 
 
 EVERY word, and every action of the Dissembler is 
 an artifice by which he labours to conceal some evil 
 intention. A man of this sort approaches his enemy 
 with professions of friendship ; he flatters those 
 against whom he is secretly plotting mischief; and 
 he condoles with them in the day of their calamity : 
 to one who has defamed him, he proffers his forgive- 
 ness : he receives contumely with patience ; or he 
 soothes with blandishments those who resent the 
 injuries they have sustained from his villany. 
 
 The Dissembler, from mere habit, will evade any 
 direct application that may be made to him : ' Call 
 upon me to-morrow/ says he, to one who seeks to
 
 converse with him on business that admits of no 
 delay. To elude inquiry, he will pretend that he is 
 but just returned from a journey, that he came 
 home only last evening, or that he is too ill to 
 attend to business. He never acknowledges that he 
 has actually commenced an undertaking; but pro- 
 fesses to be still deliberating upon the affair. He 
 tells those who would borrow money of him, or who 
 demand the sum he has subscribed to a contribution, 
 that he has not taken a sixpence of late : but when 
 trade is dull, he boasts of his dealings. He feigns 
 not to have attended to what he has heard ; he pro- 
 fesses not to have observed what passed before his 
 eyes, and he takes care to forget his promises. He 
 is fertile in evasions ; now, he purposes to take an 
 affair into consideration; now, he knows nothing of 
 the business : he is amazed at what is told him ; 
 or it accords exactly with his own opinion. He 
 makes himself remarkable by his frequent use of 
 certain phrases, such as' I am fain to doubt it ;'
 
 ' I don't take your meaning ;' ' I'm vastly sur- 
 prised :' or, if it suits his purpose, he will say, 
 ' I am not the man you take me for ; no such thing 
 has been said to me before; what you say is in- 
 credible: Prithee find some one else to whom you 
 may tell this tale: truly, I know not whether to 
 think you or him the impostor.' 
 
 But beware thou of one who employs these art- 
 fully woven and often repeated phrases, which com- 
 monly serve to cloak the worst designs. A man in 
 whose manners there is no simplicity, and whose 
 every word seems to have been studied, is more to 
 be shunned than a viper.
 
 9 
 
 II. 
 
 THE ADULATOR. 
 
 ADULATION is the base converse of an inferior with 
 one from whom he seeks some sordid advantage. 
 The Adulator, walking with his Patron, says, ' Mark 
 you not how the eyes of all are turned towards you ? 
 There is not another man in the city, who attracts 
 so much attention. It was but yesterday that the 
 estimation in which you are held was publicly ac- 
 knowledged in the Portico : there were more than 
 thirty persons sitting together ; and in the course of 
 conversation it was inquired, who merited to be 
 called the most worthy citizen of the state ; when, one 
 and all agreed that you were the man.' While he 
 proceeds with discourse of this sort, he employs 
 
 Theoph. B
 
 10 
 
 himself in picking some particle of down from the 
 great man's cloak ; or if a gust of wind has lodged 
 an atom of straw in his curls, he carefully removes 
 it ; and smiling, adds, ' See now, because these 
 two days I have not been with you, your beard is 
 filled with grey hairs : and yet, to say truth, no man 
 of your years has a head of hair so black.' 
 
 When his Patron is about to speak, the Parasite 
 imposes silence upon all present ; and he himself, 
 while he listens, gives signals of applause ; and at 
 every pause exclaims, 'well said! well said!' If 
 the speaker is pleased to be facetious, he forces 
 a grin ; or puts his cloak to his mouth, as if 
 striving to suppress a burst of laughter. He com- 
 mands those whom they may meet in a narrow 
 way to give place, while his Friend passes on. He 
 provides himself with apples and pears, which he 
 presents to the children of the family in the presence 
 of the Father ; and kissing them, exclaims, 
 ' Worthy offspring of a noble stock !'
 
 11 
 
 'The foot,' says the humble companion, when 
 the great man would fit himself with a pair of shoes, 
 ' the foot is of a handsomer make than the pair you 
 are trying.' He runs before his Patron when he 
 visits his friends, to give notice of his approach; 
 saying,' HE comes to thee :' then he returns 
 with some such formality as ' I have announced 
 you.' 
 
 When occasion offers he is ready to give his help in 
 the smallest matters ; he will run to the market, in 
 a twinkling, for a bunch of kitchen herbs. At table, 
 he is the first to praise the wine : leaning upon the 
 flattered man, he says,' You eat but delicately :' 
 and, taking a morsel from the table, exclaims ' How 
 exquisite is this !' Then he inquires, 'Are you cold? 
 Do you wish for your cloak ?'-^and forthwith he 
 throws it about him. Stooping forward, he whispers 
 in his ear ; or while speaking to others, he rolls his 
 eyes upon his patron. At the Theatre, taking the 
 cushions from the servant whose business it is to
 
 12 
 
 adjust them for his master, he performs this oflicc 
 himself. In a word, he is always ready to declare 
 that the house is well built, the grounds well 
 planted, or that the portrait is an exact likeness. 
 And truly, you will find such a fellow willing to say 
 or to do any thing by which he may hope to curry 
 favour.
 
 13 
 
 III. 
 
 THE GARRULOUS. 
 
 GARRULITY is an effusion of prolix and unpreme- 
 ditated discourse. The garrulous man happening to 
 sit beside one with whom he has no acquaintance, 
 begins by recounting the various excellencies of his 
 wife : then he says that last night he dreamed a 
 dream, which he narrates at length ; this leads him 
 to mention, one by one, the dishes that were placed 
 within his reach at supper. By this time his tongue 
 has gained velocity in going ; and he proceeds in a 
 loftier strain : ' Alas !' saith he, * how much more 
 depraved are the men of our times than were their 
 ancestors ! and what a price has corn fallen to now, 
 in the markets ! and how the city s\varms with
 
 14 
 
 strangers ! By the time the Baccanalia are well over 
 the sea will be covered again with ships : should it 
 please heaven, just now, to send rain, it would be a 
 vast benefit to the wheats.' Anon, he announces his 
 determination to farm his own land the ensuing year. 
 ' But how hard is it,' says he, ' in these times to get 
 a living. I must tell you, being, as I perceive, a 
 stranger, that it was Damippus who displayed the 
 largest torch in the late festival. By the bye, can 
 you tell me now, how many pillars there are in the 
 Odeum ? Yesterday I was sick : hem ! What day 
 of the month is this ?' 
 
 If you will bear with a fellow of this sort he will 
 never let you go : for rather than that talk should fail, 
 he will inform you of all the festivals that happen 
 throughout the year, gravely telling you that in Sep- 
 tember is celebrated the feast in honour of Ceres ; 
 in October, the Apaturia: the rural Baccanalia in 
 December; and so forth. But if you would not be 
 worried into a fever, you must shake him off, and
 
 15 
 
 make your escape as fast as possible. In truth, it is 
 hard to consort with those who have no perception 
 of what is proper either to moments of relaxation, 
 or to hours of business.
 
 16 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE RUSTIC. 
 
 RUSTICITY is an unconsciousness of things inde- 
 corous. The Rustic, after having taken an offen- 
 sive drug, forthwith goes into company. Smelling 
 some exquisite perfume, he exclaims, ' 'Tis not 
 a whit sweeter than a sprig of thyme/ The 
 shoes he wears are too large for his feet. He 
 talks in a bawling tone; and his posture as he sits 
 is indecent. Distrusting his friends and nearest 
 relatives, he converses on the most important con- 
 cerns with his servants ; or, returning from the city, 
 he reports all that has passed in council to the 
 labourers on his farm. In travelling, he admires 
 nothing that is beautiful, he is affected by no-
 
 17 
 
 thing that is sublime ; but if he encounters an ox, 
 or an ass, or a goat, he makes a halt, and stares 
 at it. He will filch a morsel from the pantry, 
 devour it voraciously ; then swallow a dram ; and 
 withal seek to conceal the theft from his own 
 cookmaid : at another time he will grind with her 
 at the mill ; and himself measure out the day's 
 provisions for the family. During dinner he 
 throws morsels to the domestic animais that are 
 suffered to range through the house ; or he runs 
 to the door when any one knocks. Instead of 
 noticing his visitor, he calls the house-dog from 
 his kennel, and, holding him by the muzzle, 
 exclaims, * Here is he that takes care of house, 
 and farm, and family!' AVhen he receives money ? 
 he affirms it to be bad, and demands that it 
 may be changed. If he has lent a plough, or a 
 basket, or a sickle, or a sack, to a neighbour, 
 he wakes, perhaps in the middle of the night, 
 and remembering the loan, will go and ask for 
 
 Theoph. C
 
 18 
 
 it. On his way to the city he accosts any one 
 he may meet with abrupt questions, ' How are 
 hides selling now 1 and what is bacon in the mar- 
 ket ? Tell me, do the Games to-day bring us a 
 new moon ?' and then he adds, ' As soon as I get 
 to town I mean to be shaved.' This man sings aloud 
 while he is in the bath: he drives nails into his 
 shoes ; and you may meet him with a ham on his 
 shoulders, which he has bought as he chanced to 
 pass through the market.
 
 19 
 
 V. 
 
 THE PLAUSIBLE. 
 
 j. 
 
 HE who would fain please all the world is one 
 who habitually sacrifices virtues to blandishments. 
 
 The man of compliments bows long before he 
 comes up to the person whom he means to salute : 
 then, accosting him with ' Most excellent Sir !' 
 and some egregious flattery, he holds him by both 
 hands, and will hardly release him ; but turns back 
 with him, inquiring when they shall meet again : 
 at length, but not without another preposterous 
 compliment, he lets him go. If he is employed 
 in an arbitration, he labours to gratify his friend's 
 opponent, that, if possible, he may appear to be 
 equally concerned for both parties. He will as-
 
 20 
 
 sure foreigners that they talk more reasonably 
 than his fellow qitizens. When he dines with his 
 friend, he intreats that the children may be called 
 in ; and, as they enter, he protests that one fig is 
 not so like another as they are to their father : 
 he brings them about him, kisses them, babbles 
 nursery nonsense with them; and allows himself 
 to be incommoded by their sleeping upon his 
 bosom. 
 
 A man of this temper is usually a fop: he is 
 distinguished by his trimly-dressed hair, his white 
 teeth, the frequent change of his dress, and his 
 excessive use of perfumes. He saunters about the 
 stalls in the Exchange ; lounges in the Gymnasium 
 while the youth are engaged in their exercises; 
 and at the Theatre he pushes up as near as he 
 can to the seat of the Praetors. It is his affec- 
 tation to appear to be making purchases not for 
 himself, but for his friends at Byzantium, or else- 
 where: he is sending a present of Spartan dogs
 
 21 
 
 to Cyzicus ; or the honey of Hymettus to Rhodes : 
 nor does he suffer his neighbours to be ignorant of 
 all this munificence. His house abounds with ra- 
 rities : he is skilful in training apes and monkeys ; 
 he keeps Sicilian doves ; he cannot play at dice 
 unless they are carved from the finest buck's-horn; 
 he displays curiously-turned crewets; his walk- 
 ing stick is a twisted Spartan staff: his rooms 
 are hung with the figured tapestry of Persia ; 
 he has a court always prepared for wrestling; 
 and adjoining to it a billiard room: hither he is 
 wont to invite those whom he may meet in his 
 rambles, Philosophers, Sophists, Prize-fighters, or 
 Musicians ; and here they find accommodations 
 for exercising their various arts. All this he does, 
 that when he enters the hall one of the spectators 
 may say to another, ' That is the master of the 
 Palaestra.'
 
 VI. 
 
 THE RUFFIAN. 
 
 THE Ruffian is distinguished by the recklessness 
 with which he perpetrates or witnesses atrocities. 
 
 A man of this sort takes his oath without a 
 moment's reflection; he hears the foulest obloquies 
 without offence ; and he is insensible to reproach. 
 His habits of life are those of a vagabond; his 
 manners are obscene; and he is apt for every 
 mischief. He is not ashamed, even while sober, 
 to exhibit himself in the lascivious dance, or to 
 play a part in comedy unmasked. He will under- 
 take the office of collecting the money at a show ; 
 and will wrangle with those who produce tickets 
 for the spectacle. He keeps open house for com-
 
 23 
 
 pany of all sorts ; he maintains courtezans ; and 
 he will farm the taxes: in truth, there is not an 
 occupation by which he will think himself disgraced : 
 he will be town crier, or cook at a tavern; and 
 while he squanders his money in gambling, he 
 refuses to maintain his mother : he is committed 
 to prison for theft; and spends more of his time 
 in jail than at home. 
 
 It is some fellow of this sort whom you may 
 see gathering a crowd about him in the highway, 
 challenging the mob in a hoarse and brawling 
 voice ; while he vociferates angry and contume- 
 lious ravings: meantime some are joining the cir- 
 cle, while others leave it before they have learned 
 - what he has to say ; and no one knows what he 
 means; for some have heard only the beginning, 
 some the middle, and some scarce a syllable of 
 his harangue. It is especially on days of public 
 business, when crowds are easily collected, that 
 he delights to make the full display of his mad
 
 24 
 
 insolence. He is perpetually either Plaintiff or 
 Defendant in a law-suit ; and he is ever prepared 
 to carry his point where perjury or audacity can 
 avail him. Litigation is his element; and he is to 
 be seen carrying a casket stuffed with depositions 
 in his bosom, and a file of indictments under his 
 arm. 
 
 He never declines the honour of being a leader 
 of the rabble; and when he has gained followers 
 he lends them money, exacting the enormous 
 usury of a quarter of the principal, which he col- 
 lects daily at the stalls and shops of his debtors; 
 and as he gathers his pence he lodges them in his 
 mouth. Men of this sort, whose throats are sewers, 
 flowing with scurrility, and who make taverns 
 and markets resound with their brawling, are the 
 most troublesome of all public nuisances.
 
 25 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE LOQUACIOUS. 
 
 LOQUACITY is an incontinence of the tongue. The 
 Loquacious man, whatever you may be talking 
 of, presently interrupts you by telling you that 
 ' You say nothing to the point : I know the 
 whole story ; and if you listen to me, you will learn 
 the real state of the case.' If you take up the 
 subject again, he breaks in upon you ; ' Ah 
 don't you forget what you were about to say: 
 truly you did well to remind me of that : See 
 how profitable is talk! Right! that part of the 
 affair I had forgotten. You have taken my mean- 
 ing at once: I have been waiting to see if you 
 would think as I do.' In this way he seizes 
 
 Theoph. D
 
 26 
 
 upon every opportunity of talking, so that one 
 who would confer with him knows not when to 
 take breath. When he has thus worried, one 
 by one, all who may have fallen in his way, he 
 will thrust himself into a group of persons, oc- 
 cupied with some important business, and fairly 
 put them to flight. He enters the public schools 
 and the Palaestras, interrupting the youth in their 
 studies, or their exercises, while he chatters with 
 the masters. If any one, to escape from him, takes 
 his leave, he will rise at the same time, and fol- 
 low him home. He is informed of all that passes 
 in the assembly of the people, which he makes it 
 his business to repeat wherever he goes. The re- 
 tailing of such news gives him occasion to describe 
 at great length the battle between the Lacedaemonians 
 and the Macedonians, which, he informs you, took 
 place during the magistracy of the orator Aris- 
 tophon: thence he goes back to the war with the 
 Lacedaemonians under Lysander ; nor does he forget
 
 27 
 
 to repeat a much applauded speech which he himself 
 made on a certain occasion in the assembly: with 
 this discourse, however, he intermingles invectives 
 against the populace : meanwhile, some of his audi- 
 ence are utterly unconscious of what he is saying, 
 some are dozing, and some make their escape. 
 
 A man of this sort puts a stop, alike to business 
 and to pleasure. When he sits on the bench he dis- 
 tracts his colleagues: when he is at the theatre he 
 prevents those near him from seeing the spectacle ; 
 and at table he almost hinders his neighbour from eat- 
 ing. He will frankly confess that it is hard for a 
 talker to hold his peace : the tongue, he says, is hung 
 so loose that it must needs be moving : and he owns 
 that he would rather seem more noisy than a flight of 
 swallows, than be silent. He will bear to be laughed 
 at for his folly, even by his own children, who, when 
 they would sleep, are wont to say 'Come, father, now 
 tell us a tale, that we may all begin to nod.*
 
 28 
 
 VIII. 
 THE FABRICATOR OF NEWS. 
 
 IT is to gratify his love of the marvellous that this 
 man spends his life in the invention and propagation 
 of falsehoods. The Newsmonger, meeting an ac- 
 quaintance, puts on a grimace to suit the occasion, 
 and grinning, asks ' Whence come you what say 
 you have you any fresh news of this affair?' Going 
 on with these questions, he adds,' What ! no later 
 intelligence abroad? Truly the current report is 
 surprising !' without allowing a reply, he proceeds, 
 'What say you to it? Is it possible that you have 
 not yet heard of it? Then I fancy I have a feast 
 of news for you.' Whereupon he never fails to 
 have as his author some nobody knows who a 
 soldier, or a piper's boy, or a sutler, just re-
 
 turned from the field of battle, from whom he has 
 heard the whole story: thus he takes care that his 
 authorities are such as no one can lay hold of. 
 He then says that these persons affirm, that 
 Polysperchon and the King have gained a com- 
 plete victory; and furthermore, that Cassander is 
 taken alive. If any one asks' and do you really 
 believe this?' he replies, ' The rumour is already 
 noised through the town; and it gains credit every 
 hour: besides, all accounts agree as to the fact 
 of the battle, and that there has been a vast 
 slaughter. But if there could be any doubt, you 
 have only need to look in the faces of men in 
 power, and you may read the news in their altered 
 looks: and, to tell you a secret, it is whispered 
 that some one from Macedonia, who was an eye- 
 witness of the fight, has been now five days con- 
 cealed in the office of state.' When he has thus 
 finished his tale, as he thinks, very plausibly, he 
 puts on a pathetic air ; ' Unhappy Cassander ! luck-
 
 30 
 
 less man! behold the caprices of fortune! Yet truly 
 he was a mighty captain ! But remember now/ he 
 adds, ' I have told you this in confidence, keep it to 
 yourself.' But this whispered secret is what he has 
 already been telling in all parts of the town. 
 
 I have always been at a loss to find a suffi- 
 cient motive for the conduct of men of this sort. 
 They not only lie, but they lie most unprofitably 
 to themselves. How often, for example, while 
 gathering hearers about them in the bath, do they 
 lose their clothes; how often, while in the Portico 
 they are gaining victories by sea and land, do they 
 incur fines by neglecting their affairs in court; how 
 often, after valiantly taking cities with their tongues, 
 do they go home supperless. Truly theirs seems to 
 me a most wearisome mode of life, passing entire 
 days, as they do, in running from shop to shop; 
 from the Portico to the Forum, with no other busi- 
 ness than to promulgate idle tales, by which to afflict 
 the ears of all they meet.
 
 31 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE SORDID. 
 
 THAT man is justly called a lover of filthy lucre, 
 to whom the relish and value of a gain is en- 
 hanced by the baseness of the means that have 
 been employed in its acquisition. 
 
 If a fellow of this sort invites you to a feast, 
 you will do wisely to carry a morsel with you, 
 to make up for his scanty fare. He will borrow 
 money of a stranger who lodges for a night in his 
 house. At an ordinary he is the carver, and while 
 he loads his own plate, says, ' It is fair that he who 
 toils for others should have the portion of two.' 
 He sells wine; and he does not scruple to send 
 what is adulterated, even to his friend. He goes
 
 32 
 
 to the theatre, and takes his sons, only on those 
 occasions when the house is thrown open to the 
 populace. If he is employed on an embassy, he 
 leaves at home the provision made at the public 
 cost for his journey; and on the road borrows 
 what he needs from his colleagues. The slave 
 who follows him he loads with a burden beyond 
 his strength; and at the same time gives him less 
 than the customary allowance of food. He demands 
 his share of the presents made to the embassy at 
 a foreign court, and sells it. 
 
 In the bath he declares that the oil brought to 
 him by his servant is rancid ; and on this pretence 
 he uses what belongs to another person. If his 
 servants chance to find money on the road, he 
 claims his share, using the vulgar proverb, ' Luck 
 is common.' When he sends his cloak to the 
 fuller, he borrows one from a neighbour, which 
 he continues to wear till it is asked for. Nor are 
 these the worst of his practices. He metes out
 
 33 
 
 provisions to his household in a measure that has a 
 false bottom: and even from this he strikes off the 
 top. Through the indulgence of a friend he pur- 
 chases some article much below its value, which 
 he presently sells at an exorbitant price. Having 
 a debt of thirty pounds to pay, he contrives that 
 the silver shall be deficient in weight by four 
 drachms. If his children have been prevented from 
 attending their school by sickness, he makes a de- 
 duction, according to the time they have been absent, 
 from the salaries of their masters: and because 
 many public holidays occur in February, he keeps 
 them at home the whole month, that he may not 
 have to pay for days in which they are not actually 
 at school. In settling accounts with a servant, or 
 in receiving rent from a tenant, he exacts a dis- 
 count, on pretence of the difference in value 
 between one kind of coin and another. When it 
 falls to his lot to give a feast to the citizens 
 of his ward, he supplies his own family out of 
 
 Theoph. E
 
 the provision made for the public dinner: and 
 of all that is left upon the table he takes strict 
 account; lest the half of a bunch of radishes 
 should be purloined by the waiters. If he goes a 
 journey with companions, he employs their attend- 
 ants; haying let out his own footman for the 
 time; without, however, bringing the hire to 
 account in the common purse. If provisions for 
 a club-dinner are lodged at his house, he cribs 
 a part from every article, even from the wood, 
 the lentils, the vinegar, the salt, and the oil for 
 the lamps. In order to avoid making a marriage- 
 offering when a wedding takes place in a friend's 
 family, he will leave his home for a time, to be 
 out of the way. He is ever borrowing those petty 
 articles from his friends, which no one would 
 choose to ask for again; and for which, if pay- 
 ment were offered, it would hardly be received.
 
 35 
 
 X. 
 
 THE SHAMELESS. 
 
 THE union of avarice and audacity produces a 
 total disregard of decency and reputation. A 
 man of this temper is not ashamed to ask a 
 loan of one whom he has just defrauded. When 
 he sacrifices to the gods, instead of making a 
 feast at home, he puts the flesh of the victim in 
 salt, and goes to sup with a neighbour: while 
 there, he calls up one of his followers, and taking 
 bread and meat from the table, says, in the 
 hearing of all, ' There, my man, make a good 
 supper.' When he is buying provisions, he admo- 
 nishes the butcher, if ever he has done him any 
 service, to requite the favour in the bargain he is
 
 36 
 
 making : as he stands by the scales, if he can, he 
 will throw in a piece of flesh, or at any rate, a 
 bone, after the meat is weighed : if this is al- 
 lowed, it is well : if not, he snatches some scrap of 
 offal from the bench, and runs off grinning. When 
 he treats his visitors to the theatre, he will slip 
 in himself, without paying, and even the next day 
 bring in his children and their tutor. If he meets 
 any one carrying home a bargain, he begs or 
 demands a morsel for himself. He is wont to 
 enter the farm-yard of a neighbour, of whom he 
 borrows corn or straw, which he obliges the lender 
 to send home. In the bath, he will fill the pitcher 
 for himself from the cistern, in spite of the out- 
 cries of the bather: and when he retires exclaims, 
 ' There now, I have washed, and I owe you 
 nothing.'
 
 37 
 
 XI. 
 
 THE PARSIMONIOUS. 
 
 PARSIMONY is an excessive and unreasonable spa- 
 ring of expence. The parsimonious man calls at the 
 house of his debtor to demand a halfpenny of interest, 
 left over in the last month's payment. At a banquet 
 he carefully notes how many cups of wine are 
 drank by each guest: and of all the offerings to 
 Diana, usual on such occasions, his will be the 
 least. If the smallest article be purchased for 
 his use, however low may be the price, he will 
 say it is too dear. When a servant breaks a pot 
 or a pan, he deducts the value of it from his 
 daily allowance; or if his wife chances to lose a 
 brass button or a farthing, he causes tables, chairs,
 
 38 
 
 beds, boxes, to be moved, and the wardrobe to be 
 hunted over in search of it. Whoever would deal 
 with him, must be content to lose by the transac- 
 tion. He suffers no one to taste a fig from his 
 garden; nor even to pass through his fields; no, 
 nor to gather a fallen date or olive from the 
 ground. He inspects the boundaries of his farm 
 every day, to assure himself that the hedges and 
 the fences remain in their places. He demands in- 
 terest upon interest, if payment is delayed a day 
 beyond the appointed time. If he gives a public 
 dinner to his ward, he carves out a scanty portion 
 for each, and himself places his allowance before 
 every guest. He goes to market, and often returns 
 without having purchased an article. He strictly 
 charges his wife to lend nothing to her neighbours; 
 no, not even a little salt, nor a wick for a lamp, 
 nor a bit of cummin, nor a sprig of marjoram, nor 
 a barley cake, nor a fillet for the victim, nor a 
 wafer for the altar ; ' for/ saith he, ' these little
 
 matters put together make a great sum in the 
 year.' 
 
 In a word, you may see the coffers of such a 
 fellow covered with mould ; and himself, with a 
 bunch of rusty keys at his girdle, clad in a scanty 
 garb, sparingly anointed, shorn to the scalp, and 
 slipshod at noon: and you may find him in the 
 fuller's shop, whom he is charging not to spare 
 earth in cleaning his cloak, that it may not so soon 
 require dressing again.
 
 40 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE IMPURE. 
 
 THIS man is every where to be known by the open 
 and scandalous grossness of his manners : he wil- 
 fully offends the eye of modesty. At the theatre it 
 is his delight to clap his hands after the rest of 
 the audience is still ; and to hiss those actors whom 
 others applaud: and in an interval of silence, he 
 eructates so loudly as to attract the notice of all 
 about him. He frequents the fruit stalls in the 
 open market, from which he helps himself, munch- 
 ing nuts, apples, or almonds, while he feigns to 
 chat with the vender. He calls to some one by his 
 name, in public, with whom he has no acquaintance ; 
 or commands a person to wait for him, whom he
 
 41 
 
 perceives to be hastening on business. He will 
 accost a man with mock congratulations who is 
 leaving court after having lost a cause, and in- 
 curred a heavy fine. As he returns from market, 
 laden with eatables, he hires musicians, displays 
 what he has bought to all he may meet, and in- 
 vites them to the revel: or, standing at a shop or 
 tavern door, he proclaims that he is about to get 
 drunk. He will wish ill-luck to his mother, as 
 he sees her going to consult the augur. He over- 
 throws the cnps of the worshippers who are about 
 to perform their libations; and then stares and 
 grins as if the accident were portentous. If a fe- 
 male performer is playing upon the hautboy, 
 first he claps while others would fain listen ; then 
 thrums the tune; and presently rudely commands 
 her to be silent. At supper he heedlessly spits 
 across the table upon the butler. 
 
 Theoph.
 
 42 
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE BLUNDERER. 
 
 HE whose words and actions, though they may be 
 well intended, are never well timed, is a most trou- 
 blesome companion. The Blunderer, having some 
 affair on which he wishes to confer with his friend, 
 calls at the very hour when he is most busily en- 
 gaged. He comes to sup with his mistress while 
 she is ill of a fever. He solicits one who has just 
 forfeited bail to be surety for him; or appears to 
 give his evidence at the moment when a cause is 
 adjudged. He will rail at womankind at a wed- 
 ding dinner. He asks persons to join him on the 
 parade whom he meets as they are returning from 
 a long journey. He will offer to find you a better
 
 purchaser for an article which you assure him is 
 already sold. He stands up in a company to ex- 
 plain some business from the very beginning, which 
 every one perfectly understands already. He is 
 forward to meddle in some affair which those most 
 nearly concerned heartily wish he would let alone, 
 and which is yet of such a nature that they are 
 ashamed to forbid his interference. He will come 
 and demand interest from his debtors, at the mo- 
 ment when they are engaged in a sacrifice and feast. 
 If he happens to be present at a neighbour's house 
 while a slave is beaten, he recounts an instance 
 which occurred in his own family, of a servant who, 
 being thus corrected, went and hanged himself. 
 Should he be chosen to arbitrate between parties 
 who wish to be reconciled, he will, by his bung- 
 ling interference, set them at variance again. He 
 calls upon a partner to dance, who has not yet 
 supped.
 
 44 
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE BUSYBODY. 
 
 IN the proffered services of the Busybody there is 
 much of the affectation of kind-heartedness, and little 
 efficient aid. When the execution of some project 
 is in agitation, he will undertake a part that greatly 
 exceeds his ability. After a point in dispute has 
 been settled to the satisfaction of all parties, he 
 starts up, and insists upon some trivial objection. 
 He directs the waiter at a banquet to mix more 
 liquor than the company present can possibly drink. 
 He interferes in a quarrel between parties of whom 
 he knows nothing. He offers to be guide in a forest ; 
 and presently he is bewildered, and obliged to con- 
 fess that he is ignorant of the way. He will accost
 
 45 
 
 a general at the head of his troops, and inquire 
 when battle is to be given; or what orders he 
 intends to issue for the next day. He is wont to 
 give his father information of his mother's move- 
 ments. Although the physician has forbidden wine 
 to his patient, he will, nevertheless, administer some ; 
 just, as he says, by way of making an experi- 
 ment. When his wife dies, he inscribes on her 
 monument, not only her name and quality, but 
 those also of her husband, father, and mother; and 
 adds, ' All these were persons of extraordinary 
 virtue.' He cannot take an oath in court without 
 informing the by-standers that it is not the first time 
 his evidence has been called for.
 
 46 
 
 XV. 
 
 THE STUPID. 
 
 THERE is a sluggishness of mind in some persons 
 which occasions them perpetually to stumble into 
 absurdities of language or behaviour. It is a man 
 of this sort who, after he has made and proved 
 a calculation, turns to his neighbour to ask what 
 is the amount. Being defendant in an action for 
 damages, on the day when his defence should be 
 made, he utterly forgets the affair, and goes to his 
 farm as usual. Often it has happened to him to 
 be left sleeping in the theatre, long after the spectators 
 have retired. Staggering home at night, after eating 
 an enormous supper, he wanders into his neighbour's 
 court, instead of his own, and is bitten by the dog.
 
 47 
 
 Articles which himself has received and put in 
 store, he is unable to find when they are wanted. 
 He is informed that a friend is dead; and he goes 
 to the house with a sorrowful face and streaming 
 eyes; yet he salutes the first person of the family 
 whom he meets, with ' Good luck to you !' He 
 will, with much ado, take witnesses with him when 
 he goes to receive payment of a debt. In the depth 
 of winter he scolds his servant because he has not 
 bought cucumbers. He will urge his sons to con- 
 tinue wrestling or running, till they are thrown into 
 a fever. At his farm he undertakes to cook the 
 pottage; and in doing so, he puts salt to the mess 
 twice, so that it cannot be eaten. After a shower 
 he exclaims, ' How sweet it smells of the stars !' 
 If the rate of mortality in the city be asked, instead 
 of a serious reply, he will give you an absurd jest.
 
 48 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE MOROSE. 
 
 A MALIGNANT temper sometimes vents itself chiefly 
 in ferocity of language. The man whose tongue is 
 thus at war with all the world, cannot reply to the 
 simplest inquiry except by some such rejoinder as 
 ' Trouble not me with your questions :' nor will 
 he return a civil salutation : and so unwilling is he 
 to give a direct answer, that even when a customer 
 asks the price of an article, he only mutters, 
 ' What fault have you to find with it?' If his friends 
 send him presents, with compliments, when he is 
 preparing a feast, he receives them, saying ' Yes, 
 yes; these things are not intended for gifts: (I must 
 return as much again.)' He has no pardon for
 
 4.9 
 
 those who may unwittingly shove or jostle him, or 
 tread upon his toe. If a loan is asked of him, at 
 first he refuses ; but afterwards he brings the money, 
 saying that he is willing to throw so much silver 
 away. If he strikes his foot against a stone, he 
 utters a tremendous execration upon it. He will 
 neither wait for, nor stay with any one long: nor 
 will he sing, or recite verses, or dance in company. 
 It is a man of this spirit who dares to live without 
 offering supplications to heaven. 
 
 Theoph.
 
 50 
 
 xvn. 
 
 THE SUPERSTITIOUS. 
 
 SUPERSTITION is a desponding fear of divinities. 
 The superstitious man having washed his hands 
 in the sacred fount, and being well sprinkled with 
 holy water from the temple, takes a leaf of laurel 
 in his mouth, and walks about with it all the day. 
 If a weasel cross his path, he will not proceed until 
 some one has gone before him; or until he has 
 thrown three stones across the way. If he sees a 
 serpent in the house, he builds a chapel on the 
 spot. When he passes the consecrated stones, 
 placed where three ways meet, he is careful to 
 pour oil from his crewet upon them: then, falling 
 upon his knees, he worships, and retires. A mouse,
 
 51 
 
 perchance, has gnawed a hole in a flour-sack: 
 away he goes to the seer to know what it behoves 
 him to do : and if he is simply answered, * Send 
 it to the cobbler to be patched ;' he views the busi- 
 ness in a more serious light; and running home, 
 he devotes the sack, as an article no more to be 
 used. He is occupied in frequent purifications of 
 his house: saying that it has been invaded by He- 
 cate. If in his walks an owl flies past, he is horror- 
 struck ; and exclaims, ' Thus comes the divine Mi- 
 nerva.' He is careful not to tread upon a tomb, 
 to approach a corpse, or to visit a woman in her 
 confinement; saying that it is profitable to him to 
 avoid every pollution. On the fourth and seventh 
 days of the month he directs mulled wine to be 
 prepared for the family ; and going himself to pur- 
 chase myrtles and frankincense, he returns and 
 spends the day in crowning the statues of Mercury 
 and Venus. As often as he has a dream he runs 
 to the interpreter, the soothsayer, or the augur, to
 
 inquire what god or goddess he ought to propitiate. 
 Before he is initiated in the mysteries he attends 
 to receive instruction every month, accompanied by 
 his wife, or by the nurse and his children. 
 
 Whenever he passes a cross-way he bathes his 
 head. For the benefit of a special purification, he 
 invites the priestesses to his house; who, while he 
 stands reverently in the midst of them, bear about 
 him an onion, or a little dog. If he encounters a 
 lunatic or a man in a fit, he shudders horrifically, 
 and spits in his bosom.
 
 53 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 THE PETULANT. 
 
 A PETULANT temper will make occasion, where it 
 cannot find reason, for murmurings and rebukes. 
 If his friend sends the Grumbler a portion from a 
 feast, he returns by the bearer no other answer than 
 this * What then, didst thou grudge me thy broth, 
 and thy small wine, that I was not invited to 
 supper?' He repels the fondness of his mistress, 
 while he mutters, ' 1 wonder now if you love me 
 in truth :' He quarrels with heaven, not, as he 
 says, because it rains; but because the rain comes 
 too late. If he finds a purse on the road, he ex- 
 claims, ' Copper ; ah ! it is not my luck to find 
 gold.' Having purchased a slave, after long hag-
 
 gling with the vendor, at a very low price, lie says, 
 * Think you I should have got him so cheap if he 
 had been of any worth?' To the messenger who 
 brings the happy tidings of the birth of a son, he 
 replies, ' Aye, and if you were to add, that I have 
 just lost the half of my fortune, y,ou would only 
 say what is true.' After he has gained a cause by 
 the unanimous verdict of the judges, he turns upon 
 his advocate, whom he upbraids for having omitted 
 some particulars in his defence. When, on an emer- 
 gency, his friends support him with ample loans, 
 and say, ' Come now, be joyful :' he replies, ' How 
 can I be joyful, seeing that all this money must be 
 repaid ; and that ever after I must owe to each 
 of you a debt of gratitucfc?'
 
 55 
 
 XIX. 
 
 THE SUSPICIOUS. 
 
 THE suspicious man imputes a fraudulent intention 
 to every one with whom he has to do. When he 
 sends a servant to market, he presently despatches 
 another after him, to inquire the price of the articles 
 purchased. On a journey, he counts the money in 
 his purse at every stage. He is scarcely in bed, 
 before he asks his wife, if the chests are locked, 
 the cupboard sealed, and the bar put to the hall- 
 door. In vain she assures him that all is safe : 
 up he jumps, undressed and barefooted as he is ; 
 and lighting a candle, goes prying round the house ; 
 and hardly then resigns himself to sleep. He goes 
 to receive interest for his loans, accompanied by
 
 56 
 
 witnesses, lest his debtors should deny their bonds. 
 He sends his cloak to be cleaned, not to the best 
 fuller; but to him whose surety he thinks the most 
 responsible. He will invent any excuse rather than 
 lend plate to a neighbour. He suffers not his slave 
 to follow him; but commands him to walk before; 
 lest he should make his escape. If a customer 
 who comes into his shop takes up an article, and 
 intimates that he wishes for credit ; he says, ' No : 
 if you have not the money, leave the article ; for 
 I shall have no opportunity to send for the money.'

 
 57 
 
 XX. 
 
 THE FILTHY. 
 
 THIS fellow neglects his person till he becomes a 
 nuisance to all about him. Leprous, covered with 
 ulcers, and having his finger-nails unpared, he 
 frequents society ; and he thinks to excuse the 
 offensiveness of his disorders, by saying, that these 
 infirmities are constitutional; and that his father 
 and grandfather before him were afflicted in the 
 same way. He applies no remedies to the sores 
 and wounds which cover bis legs and fingers ; but 
 suffers them to fester, till they become incurable: 
 he is hairy as a bear ; and his teeth are black and 
 decayed; so that he is altogether an unapproach- 
 able and most unsavoury personage. His manners 
 
 Tkeoph. H
 
 58 
 
 are like his appearance. He wipes his nose with 
 his sleeve ; talks as he eats; lets fall his food 
 from his mouth ; and raises the wind from his sto- 
 mach while he drinks. He uses rancid oil at the 
 bath; and walks about, clad in a cloak that is 
 covered with spots' of grease.
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE DISAGREEABLE. 
 
 IT is perhaps easier to bear with a neighbour, 
 from whom we occasionally receive some serious 
 injury, than with a constant companion, whose con- 
 versation is tedious, and whose manners are un- 
 pleasing. Such a one, for example, will enter the 
 house of a friend, just as he has retired to rest, 
 and awake him, that they may chat together: or 1 
 he will almost forcibly detain persons in conver- 
 sation, who are going on board a vessel, already 
 under way in the harbour ; entreating them to pace 
 up and down with him awhile on the pier. He 
 takes the babe from the breast of the nurse ; chews 
 the food, and feeds it ; and though the child screams,
 
 60 
 
 he persists in his endeavours to sooth it with his 
 chirping. At dinner he will describe minutely the 
 several effects of a dose of medicine he has lately 
 taken ; and add ' Aye, the bile I brought up was 
 darker than the soup you are eating.' 
 
 In a large company, he will accost his mother, 
 saying, ' Mother, what day was it that I came into 
 the world V He lets us know, that he has at home 
 a cistern of marvellous cold water: also, that his 
 garden is well supplied with choice herbs ; and that 
 his house is as much frequented as an inn. When 
 he has company at home, he calls upon his jester ; 
 and wishing to make a display of the fool's talent, 
 he says, ' Come now, Sir, I pray you make the 
 company merry.'

 
 XXII. 
 
 THE VAIN. 
 
 ' 
 
 WHEN ambition is the ruling passion of a vulgar 
 mind) it shows itself in the eager pursuit of fri- 
 volous distinctions. The vain and vulgar man 
 strives always to gain a place at table next to the 
 master of the feast. When his son is of age, instead 
 of a private festival among his friends, usual on 
 such occasions, he makes a solemn journey with 
 him to Delphos, there to consecrate to Apollo the 
 honours of his shorn head. He takes vast pains 
 to be provided with a black servant, who always 
 attends him in public. If he has a considerable 
 sum of money to pay, he provides himself with 
 new coin for the purpose. When he slays a sa-
 
 crifice, he fastens the front of the victim, adorned 
 with chaplets, at the entrance of his house; that 
 all who visit him may know that he has sacrificed 
 an ox. If he has joined in a cavalcade, he sends 
 his servant home with his horse and its trappings ; 
 but he retains the robe of ceremony, with which 
 he stalks about in the forum, during the rest of 
 the day. When his favourite dog dies, he deposits 
 the remains in a tomb, and erects a monument 
 over the grave, with an inscription, ' Offspring of 
 the stock of Malta!' Having dedicated a brazen 
 coronet to ^Esculapius, he encumbers it with chap- 
 lets. He is exquisitely perfumed every day. 
 
 He is fond of being associated with the officers 
 whose business it is to regulate the celebration of 
 the sacred rites ; in order that he may have to an- 
 nounce the course of the solemnities to the people. 
 On such occasions, being crowned, and clad in a 
 white robe, he goes forth, proclaiming' O ye 
 Athenians ! receive the favours of Heaven : for we,
 
 63 
 
 whose office it is, have offered to the mother of 
 the gods, sacrifices, worthy and fair ! ' So said, he 
 goes home, in great glee ; and tells his wife that 
 he has passed the day most felicitously.
 
 G4 
 
 xxur. 
 
 THE PENURIOUS. 
 
 HE who would rather expose himself to contempt, 
 than incur a trifling expense, deserves not to be 
 called frugal, but penurious. The penurious man 
 will save a paltry sum on occasions which bring 
 his sordid temper under general observation: for 
 example, if he has been declared victor in verse, 
 he dedicates a wooden crown, as his offering to 
 Bacchus ; on which, however, he is not ashamed 
 to inscribe his name. When, in the assembly of 
 the people, an immediate contribution is voted; 
 he cither refuses his assent, or he slinks away 
 from the assembly. At the marriage of his daugh- 
 ter, he sells all the flesh of the victims, except
 
 Tmr 
 
 .)Ug, 
 
 Iff fur',
 
 the dedicated portion ; and the servants hired for the 
 occasion, he entertains at board-wages. If he is 
 master of a vessel, he will spread the matting of 
 the steersman on the deck for himself; that he 
 may spare his own bedding. He will go to mar- 
 ket, and bring home the meat under one arm, and 
 the vegetables under the other; rather than give a 
 penny to a porter. Having but one cloak, he stays 
 at home while it is cleaned. If he spies a poor 
 neighbour at a distance, who is likely to ask a 
 loan of him, he turns out of the way, and gets 
 home. He will not maintain waiting-maids for his 
 wife, as his station requires; but hires whom he 
 can find, on occasions of ceremony. He rises 
 early, sweeps the house himself, makes the beds, 
 and when he sits down, forgets not to turn his 
 threadbare coat. 
 
 Theoph.
 
 66 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 THE OSTENTATIOUS. 
 
 THE absurd vanity of the purse-proud man leads 
 him to make as many false pretensions to wealth, 
 as the veriest knave who lives by seeming to be 
 what he is not. A boaster of this sort frequents 
 the Exchange, and, while he gathers strangers 
 around him, talks of the rich cargoes which he pre- 
 tends to have upon the seas : then he tells what 
 loans he has abroad ; and what is the amount of 
 interest upon them. Or you may see him stalking 
 along the road, while he lolls on the arm of a 
 chance companion, whom he informs, that he was 
 one of those who served in the expedition into Asia 
 under Alexander; and that, in the spoil which fell
 
 67 
 
 to his share, there were many costly vessels, studded 
 with gems. This leads him to talk of eastern mag- 
 nificence ; and he stoutly contends, that the artificers 
 of Asia are incomparably superior to those of 
 Europe. He pretends to have received letters from 
 Antipater, stating that the victorious king had just 
 returned to Macedonia. He declares that, although 
 he possesses the costly licence for exporting timber, 
 he has forborne to make use of it ; lest he should 
 give occasion to the malicious remarks of some 
 who would envy him his privilege. In a company 
 of strangers he recounts, that, during the late scarcity 
 he expended more than five talents in corn, to be 
 distributed among the poorer citizens ; and doubting 
 whether he may not have under-rated the sum, he 
 requests one of the company to assist him in going 
 through a calculation, by making a list of those 
 who were the objects of his munificence, and the 
 relief afforded to each; when, pretending to name 
 above six hundred persons, the result proves that,
 
 68 
 
 instead of five, he must actually have expended 
 not less than ten talents on the occasion. Nor 
 does he include in this computation the mainte- 
 nance of his galleys, nor sundry disbursements 
 consequent upon the gratuitous discharge of public 
 business. He goes to the stalls where the finest 
 horses are exposed for sale ; and pretends to bid 
 for them : or, at the shop of the robe-maker, he 
 requests a cloak to be shown to him of the 
 value of two talents : and then takes occasion to 
 reprove his attendant for not being furnished with 
 gold. He lives in a hired house ; yet he assures a 
 visitor, ignorant of his affairs, that he inherited 
 the house from his father ; but that, finding it too 
 small for the entertainment of his friends, he intends 
 to sell it.
 
 rtOt. <>' f.l'r' , '
 
 69 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE PROUD. 
 
 THE proud man regards the whole human race 
 with contempt ; himself excepted. If you wait 
 upon this arrogant personage, even upon the most 
 urgent business, you must attend his pleasure : 
 ' I will speak with thee/ says he, ' after supper, 
 as I take my walk.' If he has rendered a service 
 to a man, he will remind him of it as he meets 
 him in the street; and in a loud voice goad 
 him with the obligation. He is never the first 
 to accost any man. He commands tradesmen, or 
 others who transact business with him, to be in 
 attendance at break of day. He returns the sa- 
 lute of no one in the public ways ; and even en-
 
 70 
 
 deavours to avoid seeing his acquaintance, by look- 
 ing on the ground: or he tosses his head, as if 
 the earth, and all who walk upon it, were un- 
 worthy of a glance. When he invites a party of 
 his friends, he deigns not to sup with them ; but 
 commits the care of entertaining the guests to one 
 of his servants. He is preceded in his visits by a 
 footman, who announces his approach. He suffers 
 no one to enter his apartment while he dresses, 
 or while he dines. If he has monies to pay, or to 
 receive, he calls in a servant to cast the counters, 
 and afterwards to make out the bill. When he 
 writes a letter of business, he condescends to em- 
 ploy none of the ordinary forms, as, you will 
 oblige me by doing so and so; but it is his man- 
 ner to say, * This is my pleasure : I have sent 
 one who will receive what you have to deliver: 
 let the business be thus ordered ; and that, without 
 delay.'
 
 71 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THE FEARFUL. 
 
 THERE is in some men a constitutional dejection 
 of the spirits, which renders them liable to the 
 constant tyranny of fear. The diseased imagination 
 of the fearful man seems to obscure his perceptions ; 
 for when he makes a voyage, he mistakes a cluster 
 of distant promontories for a fleet of pirates. As 
 soon as the ship begins to roll, he inquires if there 
 be not some profane person on board : and when 
 she tacks, he questions the steersman, if the ship 
 keeps near enough the middle of the channel ; and 
 what he thinks of the appearance of the heavens. 
 Presently, turning to a passenger who sits near him, 
 he declares that he has been affrighted by a certain
 
 72 
 
 dream : forthwith he puts off his heavy cloak, 
 delivering it to his servant, that he may be unen- 
 cumbered in case of sudden danger. At length, as 
 his fears increase, he entreats the captain to make 
 for land, and put him ashore. 
 
 Unhappy is he who, thus haunted with terrors, 
 spends his life amidst the perils of war. As soon 
 as it is reported that the enemy approaches, he 
 calls his comrades about him ; and looking round, 
 professes to doubt whether there be any hostile force 
 within sight : but when he actually hears the 
 shouts of the combatants, and sees some fall about 
 him, he declares that, in his haste to join the 
 ranks, he has forgotten his sword ; and away he 
 runs to his tent, from whence he despatches his 
 slave, as he says, to watch the motions of the 
 enemy: meanwhile he hides his weapon under the 
 bedding; and then spends the time in searching for 
 it. Peeping from the tent, he sees a wounded man 
 borne into the camp by his friends; he runs out
 
 73 
 
 to meet him, bids him be of good courage ; and 
 undertakes the care of him, sponging the wound, 
 and driving away the flies : in truth, he will do 
 any thing, rather than face the enemy. As he sits 
 in the tent by the wounded man, he hears the 
 clang of the trumpeter, sounding to the charge; 
 ' Wert thou given to the crows, with thy noise, this 
 poor fellow might get a little sleep.' Besmeared 
 with blood from another's wound, he runs out to 
 meet those who are returning from the field; to 
 whom he declares that, at the extreme peril of his 
 life, he has rescued a friend from the hottest of the 
 fight; and leading his comrades and friends into 
 the tent, he repeats the tale to each ; ' There,' he 
 exclaims, ' behold the man whom, with my own 
 arms, I bore from the field !' 
 
 Tkeoph.
 
 74 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 THE OLD TRIFLER. 
 
 THIS foolish fellow, although he is threescore, would 
 fain distinguish himself in accomplishments and 
 exercises proper only to youth. He commits verses 
 to memory ; and attempting to sing them over the 
 bottle, cannot recollect two lines together. He 
 learns from his son to use the spear and shield, 
 to the right, to the left, and behind. Making a 
 visit in the country, he mounts a strange horse, 
 and while he aims to display his skill and agility in 
 riding, he is thrown and breaks his head. He may 
 be seen fencing and thrusting at a wooden figure ; or 
 contending with his own servant for mastery in the 
 bow and lance : and in this worthy employment he

 
 75 
 
 will give or receive instruction with equal conde- 
 scension. Even in the bath he is the finished per- 
 former ; which he makes apparent by the ridiculous 
 alertness of his turns and capers. But to see him 
 in perfection, you must observe him when, to please 
 a party of ladies, he undertakes to fiddle, and dance 
 to his own tune.
 
 XXV11I. 
 
 THE DETRACTOR. 
 
 THE Detractor utters not a word that does not be- 
 tray the malignancy of his soul. If he is asked 
 what sort of a person is such a one ? he replies as if 
 the man's genealogy had been required ; ' Ah, I know 
 him : his father's name was at first Sozias ; a 
 name befitting his servile condition: it was while 
 he served as a common soldier that he acquired 
 the appellation Sosistratus : some time afterwards 
 he was inscribed among the citizens of the lower 
 order. As to his mother, she was a noble Thracian, 
 no doubt, for women of her sort are accounted noble, 
 in that country : The man himself is such as his 
 origin would lead one to suppose, he is the ve-
 
 77 
 
 riest scoundrel alive.' Then he adds, in explana- 
 tion of what he had said of the man's mother ; 
 ' these Thracian women practise every sort of 
 outrage upon the highway/ 
 
 If he comes into a company where a neighbour 
 is defamed ; he presently takes the lead in the con- 
 versation. ' Yes/ he begins, ' there is not a being 
 on earth I detest so much as the man you are speak- 
 ing of: his looks are enough to condemn him: 
 was there ever such a villain ! you may take as a 
 specimen of his character, what I know to be a 
 fact, that he ordinarily sends his wife to market 
 with three halfpence to buy provisions for the whole 
 family; and that he obliges her to bathe in cold 
 water in the depth of winter.' 
 
 The moment any one leaves the company, the De- 
 tractor fails not to introduce some tale to his dis- 
 advantage ; nor is there one of his friends, or 
 any member of his family, who escapes the scourge 
 of his tongue : he will even speak ill of the dead.
 
 78 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 THE OLIGARCH: 
 
 OR, THE ADVOCATE OF DESPOTISM. 
 
 AN arrogant desire to dominate over his fellows, 
 appears in the opinions, the conduct, and the man- 
 ners of this parti/an of despotism. When the 
 people are about to elect colleagues to the Ar- 
 chons for the direction of some public solemnity, he 
 stands up to maintain that the magistracy should 
 on no occasion be shared. And when others are 
 voting for ten, his voice is heard exclaiming, 
 ' One is enough.' Of all Homer's verses, he seems 
 to have learned only this, 
 
 think not here allow'd 
 
 That worst of tyrants, an usurping crowd.
 
 7.9 
 
 He is often heard using expressions of this sort, 
 ' It is advisable that zee should withdraw to 
 consult upon this business. Let us separate our- 
 selves from the mob, and from these popular meet- 
 ings. This access of the populace to the magis- 
 tracy should be barred.' If he meets with any 
 personal affront, he exclaims, * That they and I 
 should live within the same walls is insufferable.' 
 
 At noon he stalks abroad, sprucely dressed and 
 trimmed, and he drives the world before him with 
 haughty defiances, as if he could not think the 
 city habitable until the mass of the people should 
 be expelled from it. He loudly complains of 
 the outrages sustained by the higher classes from 
 the crowd of litigants in the courts of justice ; 
 and he tells of his having been put to confusion 
 in the assembly of the people, by the contact of a 
 squalid, shabby fellow, who placed himself beside 
 him. He inveighs against the popular leaders ; 
 whom he professes to hate heartily: It was The-
 
 80 
 
 seus, he adds, who was the author of all these 
 evils in the State. Such is the discourse which he 
 holds with foreigners, and with the few citizens 
 whose temper is like his own.
 
 81 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE MALIGNANT. 
 
 SOME men love and pursue evil, purely for its 
 own sake, with an eager relish. A man of this 
 temper seeks his element amid the turbulencies of 
 public life. His chosen associates are men of 
 ruined fortune; especially those whom sequestra- 
 tions and forfeitures have rendered ill-affected to the 
 Government. In such society he thinks to become, 
 at once, thoroughly practised in mischief, and for- 
 midable to the State. If the conduct of men of 
 worth and principle is spoken of before him, he 
 throws in some insinuation, ' So goes the world :' 
 or he boldly affirms, that there is no such thing 
 as an honest man ; that all are knaves alike. The 
 
 Tlteoph. L
 
 82 
 
 good he defames and persecutes : the bad alone he 
 applauds, as men of a liberal spirit. If a man of 
 his own sort is candidate for an office, he will grant 
 that there may be some truth in what is commonly 
 reported of him ; but, as to such and such charges, 
 he has never heard of them before : yet, be these 
 things as they may, ' he is a fellow of a noble 
 spirit, a firm friend to his party and a man of 
 splendid talent : in short, you can no where find 
 one so fit for the office.' He sides with any one 
 who, in the assembly of the people, or in the 
 courts of justice, is pleading a desperate cause. If 
 he is on the bench when some flagitious state- 
 prisoner is at the bar, he urges the principle, that 
 it is not the man's character, but the mere fact in 
 question that is to be determined. ' Be it/ says 
 he, * that the fellow disturbs the repose of men in 
 power ; yet is he the people's dog ; he keeps watch 
 against those who would invade their rights: and 
 if we abandon such men, we shall no longer find
 
 83 
 
 any who will concern themselves for the interests 
 of the commonwealth.' 
 
 He is the true demagogue, ever ready to head 
 a licentious mob. If any measure is to be car- 
 ried in court against law and equity, he will asso- 
 ciate himself with the judges, that he may give 
 the business his best aid. Whether he be advocate 
 or judge, it is his rule to put the worst interpreta- 
 tion upon all that is said by an opponent. 
 
 "We may safely say, even if such a man's per- 
 sonal conduct never offends the letter of the law, 
 that he who is the professed patron and friend 
 of knaves is himself a knave. So true is the 
 proverb, that ' Like loves like.'
 
 EO<J>PA2TOT XAPAKTHPE2.
 
 nOATKAEI. 
 
 HAH ft&v x,cu vgorsgov voXXotxis ^i<rr^ffoe,g rijv 
 IQuvpcuru,, f 
 
 viro rov avrov 
 
 asga, xsiftsvrjg, xou Kcwruv ruv XXiwo opoiug 
 
 v, ffVf/,(B&(Briv qf/Jiv ov rrjv ctvrqv rct,%tv ruv 
 
 wo rqv a,v0gu<x'(V7iv (pva-tv, xoti (3s(Biu%&>$ try Ivvt- 
 , trt ^g uuhqxag ToXXa?^ re xctt 
 
 roy? re ccy&Qovg ruv av&guircav a) roy? <py 
 Xoy?, yVgXa/3ov ^g?v (rwyyu.'^icu a garso/ avruv 
 
 v 
 
 o<ra rs ryyavs/ ygv^ TOKav rouroig 
 
 x,ou ov rgovov ry oixovopia,
 
 , rovg vioug 
 
 tfrstrQat, xoLtctkzityOivTuv ccvTOig 
 ToiouTuv olg fugadeiyfAaa-i 
 To7$ tvtrffl[Aovs(rT<x,70t<; ffwttteu TS xci o 
 ] %ot,TU,des<r7&goi affiv avruv. 
 
 ^s '/jot] ST; TOV Xoyov trov ^g 
 
 rs xcti $i07i<r<x,i st 
 
 ovv KOitiffOfAcii TOV Xoyov avo TUV rqv. 
 , cupiig ro ygooifAia^srOai, xa 
 egi rov Kg ay [AUTO? htyztv. Kct; a^fo^a/ 
 ffo rr\c, sigaveioc,/;, zou ogiovpcu auTqv tiff OVT&H; TOV 
 
 , iroidg rtg tffTi, %cu tig TWO, 
 
 xn] ret aXXa ^ TUV 
 
 xccToc, yivoq (fiavsga,
 
 A. 
 
 IIEPI EIP12NEIA2. 
 
 'H 
 
 ovv tfftta os;gv av svat, ug 
 HTTroiTiffig Ivi ")(figov irpotlzsav zee,} \oyuv. 
 'O $k 'Eii^uv, roiovrog TIC, oiog vgo<rsX0uv rolg t 
 sfl&Xeiv XocXsiv, ov (AHriiv Kcci tyatvsiv 
 olg VTriQzro XaOgot,, KOU rovroig <rvXXuK7<rdoti ^ 
 
 ' xeu ffwyyvajfAqv ^s s^S'J' ro7g actxug aurov 
 
 xou Im ro7g <x,d' soturov XsyofAtvoig' 
 
 \ *, / \ > ~ 
 
 rovg uoizovfttvovg zcu cfyctvcttcrovvrctg ir 
 
 i. Ka; roig svrwyy/avziy xarcx, 
 
 u,vrov, 
 %,} {Ac<,Xcx,x,i<r@rivot,i. %,} fAqfitv uv
 
 
 gog rovg 
 
 tvovg x,ou zgoivi^pvrag ----- ug ov nukCi' zcti 
 , <p?}<ri wuXsiv. Ka; Kxovffctg r;, (jurj 
 xou tduy, (pqffst pr) lagoix&yui, %ou 
 
 fAfAvq<r0ai. Ka) roe, 
 urxsiv, ru, $k ovx sid'zvoii, roc, ^s 
 
 
 civrog ovru 
 
 TO oXoy, dzivog ru rotovra rgoffy rov Xoyoy 
 Qu Kiirrzvu' Ovfc vvohcif/sfioivca' 'E^TX^rro^a;* xoti 
 tuvrov trsgov ysyov&vcu' xoc,} fAqy, Ov ravra, 
 
 ro 
 
 nvi Xsyg* o^ug ^g ffoi aKurrrtffa, q Ize'tvov 
 
 * o^oe, (MI (rv Ooirrov vurrevrig roiavrag tyuvolg 
 U wXox.&lg xoe,} TaX/XXoy/aj* ov ffilgov Itrriv sv 
 ^gv. Ta ^ ruv qduv ri a^rXa, aXX* g^/
 
 B. 
 
 IIEPI KOAAKEIA2. 
 
 THN 5s xoXotxziciv vvoXcifiot civ rig of 
 ai<r% / ga,v sivtxi, <rvp,(ptgov(ra,v 5s ra xoXaxsvovTt. Toy 
 5s xoXuxtx, roiovrov nvot,, wirre fogsvofA&vov cLp,at, 
 WF*t9 t 'Ev0vfx,)i uc, airo(BXs'7rov(ri vrgog <rk oi cLvfytuwoi; 
 Tovro ovdsvl ruv Iv <rri iroXst yivsrui Trhqv ffot. Hy- 
 $i$ tv Ty <rroa* irXeioytvv "/Kg q rgiuxovTu, 
 xct07]pzvivv, xoii zfATStrovros Xoyov rig e't'q 
 g, UK aurov a,g%a,{AZvovg cravra?, s^r< TO ovo- 
 (JL,a, avrov xarsvs^^va/. Ka; aXXa roiuvra, \iyuv, 
 aro rov ifMtrtov a(pgXg7v xgoxtda,' xou lew rt vgog 
 ro Tftjffifut Trig xsipoiXijg O,TO
 
 ; on dveiv ffo\ qfAeguv oust I 
 
 rov Kuyuvat, fAStrro'/ JtOMTSf, etrig zai aX- 
 Xog, 'i^stg Kgog TO, \rn [ttXaivuv rqv rgiyyx,. Ka< 
 Xtyovrog ^s Ayrou rt, rovg ecAXoyj eriwruv 
 
 s 
 
 TO re ifAunov &><rce.t ei$ ro o-ro^aa, ug fit] ov ^y- 
 
 \ /~ \ \ > 
 
 %,(x,Ttt,a")/ziv rov ytAara, XKI rovg avrowruv- 
 
 t, sag av Avrog Ta^gX^. Ka< 
 rolg irotidioig f/^Xoe, xcu amovg ractyfrirof, si<r<A i yzcx.g 
 i, oguvrog Kirov' KCLI (ptXritrag $k swiiv, X^^<rroy 
 og vsorriK ! Ka; ffvvwvovpzvog dl xgipFtoaft TOV 
 
 ov rov 
 
 vgog rivce, ruv 
 
 on Tlgog ffs ff^fftti* a; avourrgt-^oig, on 
 'A^a-iXs/ ^g xa< ra g yvvuiKeiotg 
 trcii dvvurog uirvsvffn. Ka; T^V \ffnaptv an, 
 gVa;j/<ra/ rov o;Vov* ^a/ ffOLaxsiASvog eiiretv,
 
 uc, fAKXaxag 6<rwei$ ! xcii ugcts ri ruv aro 
 7f <>$7<ra/ TOVTI ao. u 
 
 05 TO oyj Toa'^'i'Trrc/tJV, -^tduisiv' xoe,} ei$ Ixs'ivov 
 
 rou 
 
 TU dstzrgu afpsXo^sifog ra T^og(^aXa/a, oturog 
 . Ka; r^v oifcicw <pq<r(x,i sv q^iTZKro- 
 , xc&i rov uygov eu wstpursva-Ocit, xw rqv sixovcx, 
 sivui. Ka; ro xstpotXaiov, rov xoXaxoe, t<rn 
 
 Theoph.
 
 r. 
 
 IIEPI AAOAE2XIA2. 
 
 'H ^6 a 
 
 airgofiouXsuruv. 'O $k udoXstrfflg roiovrog lerriv, 
 olog ov [MI yivu<r&si, rovry 
 irgurov [A\v rqg sezurov yvvouzog 
 E/ra o rrig vvxrog eidev Ivvvvtov, rovro 
 
 uv ti'fctv tiri ry dsiirva ru, %aO' sxaffra, 
 E<Va ^ Kgo-fcagovvrog rov Kgcty paras, 
 
 ovqgOTSgoi sltrtv ot vvv civOgwroi ruv 
 Ka/ &>g a%ioi ysyovcurtv Of Kvgoi Iv rr\ ayog 
 ug TroXXo/ tiriorifAovffi %&vot' Ka; r^v ^aXarrav 
 Aiovvtriuv irXuifAov sive&i' Ka/ si voiri<riev o Zev$ 
 vdcag, roc. \v ry yq (BzXriu i<rs<rdoc,i' Ka; on aygov
 
 tig vtwa, ytug'/rio-ei' Kat us ;aXTov Iffrt TO 
 
 Ka/ 
 
 
 ug ufAiTTTog pvtrr'/igiotg 
 
 votroi tiffi xioveg rov 
 
 g (Atv Itrn roc, 
 
 vog 
 
 Aiovutrta,. Kav viroptvri rtg avrov, prj a<pitrra,<r0ot,i, 
 TIa,gouri<ru,vrct %% ^g? roy? ro/oyrouj ruv oivdga- 
 KUV, xcct diKguiASvov aTaXXarTg^a/, o<rrig 
 (BovXerat zivar "Etfyov yag- ffvvctgxiiffQai rolq 

 
 A. 
 
 IIEPI ATPOIK1A2. 
 
 civ 
 
 'H $g a 
 
 'O ^ oiygoixog, roiovrog rig olog XVKWVO, wav tig 
 Ixxkviffictv "Trogevstrfloti. Kai TO pvgov (pucrxeiv ovdiv 
 rov Qvpov qdtov o^siv. Ka< 
 yToo^ara <pogs7v. Ka; 
 Ka) rolg akv <Z>// 
 
 rou TTOO<; rot, 
 
 ^O<; rot, 
 
 rovg avrov oix&rocg ct,va,)toivov<r@ex,t KSP} rav 
 
 %ot,i roig nag avrea 
 
 ra a-ro rrjg 
 
 v 
 
 Ka< ava- 
 
 cva rov yovccrog zaiavziv, atrrz roc, 
 uvrov <pa/vs<r$a;. Kai sir aXXw f/,\v f/,q- 
 ] 0oc,vfAct.Qiv, fAqrg IzvXTirTtffflcti' orccv 5s 'ify Iv
 
 ru7g otiolg @ovv, q OVQV, TJ rgctyov, Icrrqzug 
 Ka; irgoaigav 01 ri sx rov rau,siov, dstvog 
 xcu fygoTtgov T<?I/' xu} rqv ffiroiroiov irti 
 6tl\>' XKT aXtarcii per auTqg, roig 'ivdov 
 aura ra, tiriTqdeia,. Ka< agttrruv d\ cLfAu, ro7g 
 vTro^vyioig e^/SaXeTv rov %ogrov. Ka/ xo- 
 rqv Qvgctv vwuxovffcii avrog. Ka) rov xvvcc 
 x<x,X<rot,f6evo?, xai tvi'hctfiofAevog rov pvyy/ovg, 
 ovrog <puXa,rr&i ro %ugiov, xcci rqv oixiuv, xoii rov$ 
 tvoov. Kai ro ctgyvgiov ($\ naga, rov Xctfiav a 
 t^eiv, X/av ftiv Xwrgov sivcti, xcu 'irtgov a^ 
 
 . Ka; g< ra aporpov 'iwqfftv, q xo- 
 (fitvov, TJ dgsirotvov, J) Qv"ha,xov, rayra ri\$ vvxrog XOL- 
 ra, aygvirviav uvcx,fjup,vri<rxo(j(,zvo$. Ka; st$ olffrv 
 xctrafiaivuv, iurqa'oti rov cwuvruvra, KCHTOV 
 
 xcti ro ragtag' xoti &t crripsgov o a,yav 
 
 tctv uytC xcci ziirsiv tvQvg on (Bovhzrcu xa,- 
 . Kai rtjg ctvrqg o$ov ira,<>iuv
 
 irag 'Affv roug rccgt^ovg. Ka< ev 
 ta dl <rou' xou tt$ roc,
 
 E. 
 
 IIEPI APE2KEIA2. 
 
 TT %\ / tf \ r tt 
 
 1 os ag&trxsicc g<rr; f&tv, ug ogu 
 
 i$ ovx tiri ry (BeXriirry qdovi 
 - 'O ^s a^so-Kog ae&zXst roiovrog rig, oiog vop- 
 7rgo<rcc,'yogsv<r<x,$, KOU divdgct zgururrov eiirav, 
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 \v ru dsoiTPa, t^ovog xaraXs/Tg^a^ xadzvoav. 
 vpay^uy, xau rqg vvxrog IKI Qct,x.ov etviff- 
 VITO xuvo$ rrjg rov yeirovos $ij%flijvctt. Kai 
 v fcoct aKoO&ts avrog, rovro fyreiv, xau ^ tivva,- 
 ivgtiv. Ka) aTayysXXovroj nvo$ uvry on 
 
 rt{ avrov ruv <pfauv, "vex, 
 
 Theoph.
 
 xct asroa^/ajwv agyvgiov 
 "TTctgciKcLfiiiv. Ka< ^si^uvog ovrog pcx.- 
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 l/,a,XXeiv. Kai tv cnu 
 
 
 rov 
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 . Ka/ Xgyovro? nvog, yoffovg otsi ara raj 
 vszgovg ; fi^of rourov
 
 IIEPI ATOAAEIA2. 
 
 'H ^g a,u@ot,d&tu, Iffnv otvqvsia, ofuKutf tv Xoyo/f. 
 'O ^g avOctdrig rotovrog rig, olog sgurqQeig, o litlvix, 
 TTOV iffriv-y SiK&iv, KgaypctTcc, pot f^rj vu.gefce. Kai 
 vgofftzyogsvdiis, p,rj ctvriKgoo'si'X'ti)/. Ka/ iruihuv ri, 
 (Ml Xsysiv rotg wvovfAtvoic, woarov civ avodcitro, aXX* 
 Igurav, ri svg'r%.st ; Ka; ro7g rifjwffi, xcti v&^vov- 
 <riv ig rotg togrctg stTSiv, ori ovx, av ysvoiro otoo- 
 tvuv. Kai ovx, tstv (ruvuy ovrs r 
 
 avrov ctxovirMg, ovrs ru utrotvn, ovrs ru 
 
 Ka/ (ptXu $k tguvov xzXsv<r<x,yn titrsveyxsiiv, sivay ori 
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 Xv<ri Ktu rovro ro agyvgiov. Ka; T0<r/rra/<ra gv
 
 Tea 
 
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 I7EPI AEI2IAAIMONIA2. 
 
 'AMEAEI ^ $f{f?2ceijC40f&l do%zi&v aiv tivui 
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 rig, clog liri Kqvqy tctrtftJtt&ot rag 
 
 fczigctc, %,& TrBgtppctvufAtvos TO gov, ctfyvrig 
 ro (rrofAot. "hctfitov, ovrw rqy TJ^PKV 
 Ka< r'/jv odov tu.v votgctdgoifAri yctXri, [MI 
 
 rqs odov diu,(3u,Xri. Ka< gay T^JJ otytv Iv rn oiz'tct,, 
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 ruv Iv rctig rgiodois KOLQIUV, \K rqg 
 
 . Ka} Iccv ftvg fluhaxov ?i-
 
 iruv dict<pc(, f yy, wgog rov gf J7y?jr^ l^Ouv, Iguroiv TI 
 
 xut lav 
 
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 <5 Ix0v<rcx,<r0a(. Ka) Kvxva, ^g rqv otxiuv 
 
 yeyovtvai. 
 
 ovru. Kai oyrs 
 v, ovre lir 
 
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 raZg 
 
 oyr g-r) vtxgov 
 TO 
 
 Kai ra?? 
 
 ffTttycivovv rovg 
 
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 Qtoi Tgocrzv'fcso-flw d&t. Kai re\sor0q<ro[Aevog irgog 
 rovg OgtyzoTthto'Tug aura, f&qyct, <7ro>zvi(rQcx,i
 
 oi;' lav & yw ffyo'hct^ yj yvv^ pera, rijg 
 xou r&tv Kaiottuv. Ka< ivi rcug rgtodot*; 
 v xara xstyotXrif \ovffu,trQcu. Ka< iegeiag 
 
 X>j y (rxvXaxt %sXev<rai uvrov 
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 xoXirov
 
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 IIEPI MEMIMOIPIA2. 
 
 TO 
 
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 oivugtov, ovz IKI dtl-Trvov xctXtffag. Ka< ucro rrj$ 
 
 Irctigag xctrafptXovpsvog, sliriiv, 6a,vu,a,ci) si crv xou 
 airo -^/v^rjg ps <p/Xs7j. Ka} rat A<i' a i ya,va.xrs7v, ov 
 
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 Own vet, aXXa diort vrregov. Ka< suguv tv rv\ odat 
 fiahoivriov, Btx&iv, aXX* ov 0q<rctvgov evgyxot, ovd&vore. 
 Ka< irgictptvog avdguirodov oi%tov, xoit 
 
 rov Kuikovvrog, Qavpctfy}, eivrstv, et rt wyitg ovra 
 oifyov lutHifiai. Ka< vgog rov eva,'yy&tp[Aevov on
 
 vlog ffoi ytyovzv, etirkfv, ort a,v 'jrpotr&rig, xou 
 O qptffv aireffTiv, a.\^&v\ tgtig. K.OU dt 
 Ktx,} \a,fiuv Kuffct.g rag ^qtyovs, tyzotXetv ru 
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 (pqoravrot; rivog, iXczgog io-Qt, KDU vug, ZIKSIV, ors 
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 ruv, <ziv otysiXetv ug 
 
 Theoph. G
 
 IIEPI AIIISTIA5. 
 
 airtffra vvotg rtg 
 $ ciwurrog roiovrog rtg, olog, 
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 yroffov IvgMro. Ka; (fisguv 
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 Ka/ rqv yvvauKU, rqv avrou Igturciv xaruzsifASvog, st 
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 ov 069 
 
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 IIEPI AT2XEPE1A2. 
 
 , Xu- 
 
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 IIEPI AHAIA2. 
 
 s % aqdia, ug ogu vegiXafistv, irrst>/( 
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 v dii<r0ui lirKrfcity tug av TTtgiirotTrifrri. Ka; TO 
 Trig TiT^g a.(pXo[Aevoc, puffffaptvog rmfylt 
 %cti viroxogiQffflcu vwnrvfyn. Ka; IffQiuv 
 diri'yz'ia'fla,!, ug &Xht(3ogov irtuv, nvoj xoti Kot.ru 
 
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 IIEPI MIKPCXMAOTIMIAS. 
 
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 xotX&trotvrcx, xa,Tct,%eifASvo<; dzfTrvyjiroii. Ka< TOV viov 
 a-TTOxsigcu ayoi'yuyuv stg 
 
 VOCl ^ OKUC UVTU 
 ,v,\ ~. / \ ~ '5>~ 
 
 ctvootoovg p,\ia,v ugyvgiov, zatvov Troiqffut avooovvai. 
 Kai (Bovv Qvffoic, TO irgoiAzruvidiov avavrizov rqg 
 eirodov TrgorwoirTuXevircii, o-rga^ao-; fAsyaXoi 
 ol stariovrzg i'dcairty on @ovv 'iQv<rz. 
 '; $g [ASTOC, ruv nrsrSAW, ra fA\
 
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 rot, izgu,' xu,} 
 
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 Tlieoph,
 
 KF. 
 
 
 IIEPI ANEAET0EPIA2. 
 
 'H ^g avgXgy$g/a \ffri wegiovtria, rig a 
 
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 / V / \ ~ / '~ 
 
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 Kai imdotrtONi yivoptvav, l rov or^ov 
 triuvrav, q iz rov pttrov aireXQiiv. Ka} Ixdidovg 
 avrov Ovyartgot,, rov p,tv iegeiov, ir'h.qv ruv isgav, ra 
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 rov xvfisgvqrov <rr^^a<ara Iwi rov xaraffrgufAotrog 
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 oi'zctdz 
 
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 DEPI AAAZONEIA1 
 
 'A MEAEI $g q uXufyveia, do&itv oiv ttvcii Tgoir- 
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 rov sig Maxzoovtay. Ka) didotivrig aura 
 
 on 
 
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 ^revrs raXavra ytvono aura roe, avaX^aara ^tdov 
 rotg Gtirogotg ruv iroXirav' a) ciyvuffruv oe 
 xctQripzvuv, "AtKtvffGLi 0&ivtx,i rag ^yityovg, KCU iroffovv 
 avrag xntf l^axofftovg, Karat, [Avciv, vgoffridtis irtQct- 
 vug tzourrotg rovruv ovofActra, %cti votTJa'cu dtxa. 
 raAavra, xoc,} rouro (pq<ru,t ^ftrev^vo^von &ig tgavovg 
 avrov. Ka< rag rgiqgagfctag tivifv on ov ridriffiv, 
 ovo& rag Xeirovgytag offag X&Xtirovg f yrj}i. Kai 
 y oe roig rovg i-Trvovg rovg ayaflovg 
 
 Ka< im rag 
 
 sig <$vo raXavra. Kai ra 
 on ro %gv<riov ov% t%uy, avry 
 urOurri MXJCO oixav (pqirai ravrqv that 
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 IIEPI TIIEPH<I>ANIA2. 
 
 t xu,ra(pgov}]<rg rig 
 
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 Xiv. Kai tffriuv rovg (fithovg, otvrog {/,q 
 aXXa ruv v(fi avrov nvi (ruvrcc%ai avruv 
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 IIEPI AEIAIA2. 
 
 'AMEAEI ^g q dsiXia, do^eisv ay eivai 
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 oX/aj 6/va/* icou tcXvduviou ysvofAtvou, Iguroiv si 
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 Xzyziv, ori (pojBsircci awo Ivuirviou ri- 
 
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 Tgog uvrov, 
 ffTCLvrct,<; trurov Trsusiv, xou "hyuv uc, 

 
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 Theoph, I
 
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 IIEPI OIMA@IA2. 
 
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 IIEPI KAKOAOriAS. 
 
 ok % xuxohoyioc, ayuv rqg 
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 IIEPI OAIFAPXIAS. 
 AOSEIEN av eivat q oXcyagfciu, <pthag%jcc, rig 
 
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 g rote roiovroig ruv "h.oyav <ra(T^a/, on %il 
 
 * It. lib. ii. 204.
 
 yiftiZg ffvvz\&ovra,g irif^ rovrov @ovXev<raor0cu' xou 
 Ix, rov o%Xov xai rrjg ayogoig airaXXayqvut' xoti 
 
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 xou roiuvra, tTSgoc, vgog rovg vovg, xa ruy 
 
 \ / 
 
 rovg ofAorgoirovg. 

 
 A. 
 
 IIEPI 4>IAOUONHPIAS. 
 
 
 fci xctttiuc. 'O d\ 
 
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 rov wovrigov $g s/VeTv ItevQtgov' 'Eav /SoyX^ra/ rig 
 eig vrov/igov, xtx,} ra psv aXXa opo\oytiv aX?j^ virsg 
 avrov Xtystrfiai vwo TUV cftfo&ruv, tvux. $z u,yvot7v' ffi- 
 crat pzv otvrov zvfyvn xa} (p^truigov, %,} tKido^ov' xou 
 OUtrtivstrfat ^g V7r\g ctvrov, u$ ovx, tyrervffizsv ctv- 
 Tlieoph. K
 
 ig&j. Ka) svvovs o*e sivai TU Iv \ 
 iu, XtyovTi, q Iffi diKourTTjgiu xgivopivu, Kui 
 
 e slvstv d$ivo$, uc, oi) ^s7 rov clvdga,, aXXa TO 
 Bgnttfaf KVU (prja-at avrov zvvcc. eivui TOV 
 
 yu,g avrov rovg 
 
 , ug ov% s%ofjt,ev rovg wz ruv xoivav 
 
 tvovg, oiv rov$ roiovroug KgouptQu,. Asivog $k 
 KCU Trgoffrurijarcti (pctvXav, xcti ffvvtdgevffai Iv 
 
 ra, viro ruv avrtdixuv hsyofASvct tiri TO ytl- 
 gov. Ka< TO oXov, (piXoirov/igicc, a^gX<p^ tffrt 7%$ 
 KM nhrjQtg tcrri TO TTJS irctgoiptac, To 
 
 \ \ n 
 
 wgog TO ojAoiov 
 
 TEAOI.
 
 NOTES; 
 
 AND HINTS ON THE INDIVIDUAL VARIETIES OF 
 HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 Theoph.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 PAGE 3. 
 
 The Greeks inhabit the same climate, fyc. 
 
 THE annotators upon the Characters of Theophras- 
 tus have been not less perplexed in endeavouring to 
 free the first paragraph of this Preface from appa- 
 rent solecisms, than he professes to have been by 
 the fact to which it relates. Some of them have 
 dismissed the difficulties under which it labours, by 
 supposing the whole of the Dedication to be spu- 
 rious. But the suspicion is unfounded, and, indeed, 
 a preface is the last part of a book that ought to be 
 condemned as not genuine, merely on the ground of 
 incongruities, or apparent want of sense. Critics 
 know, or might know, that when a preface must be 
 written, it is too often some unmeaning fortuity of 
 thought that is expanded and elaborated, broken up 
 and recomposed, until a complete disruption of all 
 the natural and ordinary connections of ideas has 
 taken place. I will not affirm that our author's dedi- 
 catory epistle ought to be considered as furnishing an
 
 1G2 
 
 instance of this sort. Indeed I am rather disposed 
 to think, that the difficulties which have exercised 
 much learned ingenuity to little purpose, are more 
 apparent than substantial ; and that they arise from 
 our want of familiarity with the colloquial sense of 
 the phrases he employs. Most of my readers will be 
 satisfied with a very brief account of this grave matter. 
 It seems then, as if our author's initial proposition 
 ought to have been the very reverse of what it is. He 
 might, for example, very plausibly have said, ' No 
 one who considers the influence of climate and of edu- 
 cation upon the manners of a people, can wonder 
 that, in Greece, where the climate is so various, and 
 where each state has its peculiar institutions, every 
 imaginable variety of individual character should 
 be produced. For, where shall we find, within so 
 small a space, a greater diversity of climate than is 
 experienced in passing from Attica to Bceotia, or 
 from thence to the Peloponnesus ? or what people can 
 we name, who are reared under systems of more op- 
 posite tendency than those which regulate the educa- 
 tion of the Athenians, of the Spartans, and of the 
 Thebans ? But instead of this, our author speaks of 
 Greece universally, as UTTO TOV UVTQV aegu. xe/*vjj 
 exposed to the same atmospheric temperament ; and of 
 the Greeks, as being all 6/x,o's TrajSsuojtAg'vwv similarly 
 educated; and then, taking these facts for granted, he 
 is surprised to find that the people are not more alike 
 in manners and character. It is not improbable that
 
 163 
 
 Theophrastus here employs the general term the 
 Greeks, in a restricted sense, intending to refer only, 
 or chiefly, to the Athenians ; as Athens was empha- 
 tically called the Eye, and the Heart of Greece ; so 
 that in Athens might be seen TJJV 'EAXaSa oX>)v, r^v 
 'Icovlotv, raj A'oxXaSaj 7ra<7f. Or perhaps those lesser 
 differences which distinguished the several states of 
 Greece, might wholly disappear from his view if he 
 were comparing the Greeks collectively, with the bar- 
 barians of the north, or with the people of Africa or 
 of Asia. The reader may adopt what supposition 
 he pleases for the solution of this apparent difficulty ; 
 meantime, 1 must advance a new objection against 
 this luckless exordium : 
 
 It is this that the perplexing fact to which our 
 author adverts, so far from its having any relation to 
 his present design, belongs to an inquiry of a widely 
 different nature. For those generic peculiarities in cha- 
 racter and manners which may fairly be traced to the 
 influence of climate and education, are not the subjects 
 of these characteristics. The descriptions of Theo- 
 phrastus are strictly individual; and the diversities of 
 disposition which he so accurately marks are of the 
 kind that are always antecedent to the earliest exter- 
 nal influences, are found within the narrow sphere 
 of every family, and among those who have been ex- 
 posed to the greatest imaginable identity of circum- 
 stantial causes. It is because these Characters are 
 portraits of the permanent individual varieties of hu- 
 Tlieoph. B
 
 164 
 
 man nature, not descriptions of national manners, 
 that they are recognizable in every age, and interesting 
 to ourselves : and exactly for the same reason, this 
 reference to the influence of climate and education is 
 unphilosophical and impertinent. Besides; every 
 * attentive observer of human nature' knows that in- 
 dividual diversities of character become wider and 
 stronger in proportion as mind is developed by liberty, 
 knowledge, and the sophistications of luxurious man- 
 ners. Athens, therefore, was not the place where 
 the existence of such diversities should have per- 
 plexed a philosopher. Uniformity is the concomitant 
 of barbarism: it was in Egypt, not in Greece, it 
 is in China, not in England, that all eyes incline upon 
 all noses in the same angle ; that all manners, and 
 all dispositions are alike ; and that the opinions of 
 millions of men may be comprehended in one half- 
 dozen of propositions. 
 
 / am now in the ninety-ninth year of my age. 
 
 There is a discrepancy among the authorities rela- 
 tive to the age of Theophrastus. It seems that the 
 point cannot be very satisfactorily determined. I there- 
 fore take the text as it stands, try evvsvyxovrx Ivve'a, 
 and leave the question in the hands of those who have 
 zeal in controversies of this sort.
 
 165 
 
 / have conversed familiarly with men of all classes, 
 and of various climes. 
 
 Theophrastus, although the favoured disciple and 
 successor of Aristotle, was as little like his master in 
 intellectual conformation, as was Bacon to Descartes. 
 The one created his own world of abstractions ; the 
 other was an observer and describer of individual 
 facts. The subjects and the style of his remaining 
 works would lead one to imagine that Theophrastus 
 wanted nothing but more of the spirit of enterprise 
 and more ambition to have become the founder of an 
 Inductive Philosophy, directly opposed to the system 
 of his master. But it seems that the same intellec- 
 tual diffidence which operates to detain a man in the 
 safe path of observation, is likely to render him averse 
 to the hazardous labour of one who undertakes to be 
 a reformer of prevalent opinions. From his own ac- 
 count it appears, that while the philosophers of his 
 time were rapt in solitary speculation, or wrangling 
 with each other upon subtilties, Theophrastus was 
 ' conversing familiarly with men of every class/ and 
 learning the philosophy of human nature in the way 
 in which alone it is to be learned, by the extensive 
 observation of individual character : he was, to use 
 his own emphatic phrase, 7rpTs9saj,6voj ! axpfiela; 
 iro\\YjS watching with the most exact care the actual 
 conduct of men. Instead of making the science of
 
 160 
 
 mind to consist in the construction of an hypothesis 
 for explaining the mechanism of thought, or in the 
 definition of abstract terms, he employed himself in 
 the collection of facts, which might serve as the ma- 
 terials of a science afterwards to be digested and ar- 
 ranged. The expression, twice occurring in this pre- 
 face, XUTO. yevo;, according to its kind, or genus, seems 
 to imply, an intended classification ; and the words 
 TOL XXa Sjj TWV waflij/xaTcuv, the other dispositions, may 
 be fairly assumed as indicating a design that should 
 be comprehensive and complete; perhaps commen- 
 surate with the Ethics of Aristotle. Whether the 
 accomplishment of this design was prevented by the 
 author's death ; or whether the thirty chapters that 
 remain to us are but the wrecks of the original work, 
 it is not possible to determine. Both suppositions 
 may be admitted : he probably left in the hands of his 
 disciples a much larger volume than that which time 
 has spared. Indeed the text has in numerous places 
 the character of a faulty and disjointed excerption. 
 I am also disposed to believe that it contains not a 
 few bungling interpolations. But to point out these 
 spurious portions, is a task which I have not pre- 
 sumed to undertake. 
 
 As well the profligate as the virtuous. 
 
 If the original work ever contained any sketches 
 of the virtues, they have not come down to us : the
 
 167 
 
 characters are all nosological. In truth, as individu- 
 ality is marked more by defect, distortion, or excess, 
 than by the predominance of right reason and good- 
 ness, the means of depicting individuals are lessened 
 in proportion to the approximation of the character 
 to the standard of moral and intellectual symmetry. 
 And in proportion also to the symmetry of the cha- 
 racter under observation, a nicer discrimination, and 
 a higher analysis of phenomena are required to ascer- 
 tain the elements of the individual conformation. But 
 this nice discrimination, and this high analysis, de- 
 mand, on the part of the observer, not merely fine 
 perceptions, and a practised faculty of abstraction ; 
 but also a susceptibility to all that is just and noble 
 in sentiment ; and a sympathy with all that is good, 
 and kind, and pure, in feeling : hence it is, that we 
 shall find a hundred satirists sooner than one mind 
 competent to the philosophical observation of the fair 
 side of human nature. The natural attitude of in- 
 spection is prone : we do not often observe accu- 
 rately any object that rises much above the level of the 
 eye : the same is true of the moral sight : and it may 
 be remarked of those who profess to be observers of 
 human nature, that their own feelings fix the upper 
 limit of their power of discrimination ; and that they 
 rarely fail to fall into egregious mistakes as often as 
 they attempt to philosophise upon any sample of ex- 
 cellence that is above the rate of their personal cha- 
 racter. The profligate, the acrimonious, and the ma-
 
 168 
 
 lignant, are often very exact scrutinisers of actions 
 and motives, they discern the minutest objects, and 
 distinguish the faintest differences in their own ele- 
 ment, which is Evil : but out of that element, they 
 have no faculty of vision. 
 
 P. 4. 
 
 1 shall first briefly define the term. 
 
 Our author's mind was not formed for logic ; and 
 it is but justice to him to observe, that he makes no 
 pretension to the dialectic precision in which his 
 master so much excelled. The definitions with which 
 the chapters commence are usually introduced by some 
 qualifying phrase, serving to skreen them from criti- 
 cism ; such as, So'j-gjsv av slvai it may seem to be; or, 
 uVoAa/3o a'v TJJ one might take it to be ; or, cwj ogco 
 v as it might be defined; or, e< TJJ auTJjv 6g{- 
 /SouAojTo if one wished to define it. Some of these 
 definitions are neat and pithy ; but the greater part of 
 them are mere exegetical expansions of a term : a 
 few of them, it must be confessed, are too vapid 
 and inane to bear literal translation. In rendering 
 these initial sentences, or definitions, I should have 
 felt myself embarrassed, unless I had used a much 
 greater paraphrastic liberty than in translating any 
 other part of the text : yet 1 have always cndea-
 
 169 
 
 voured fairly to comprehend the sense of the original 
 in the paraphrase. The discrepancy between the 
 Greek and the English, which may strike the reader 
 at first sight, will, I believe, generally appear to be- 
 long rather to the structure of the sentence than to 
 the substance of the thought. Excepting these defi- 
 nitions, I have taken as little liberty as any of the 
 translators of Theophrastus : nothing is added in the 
 version but a few connective phrases.
 
 170 
 
 P. G. 
 
 THE DISSEMBLER. 
 
 Constitutional simulation perhaps most often re- 
 sults from a malformation of the intellect ; and be- 
 comes by consequence and habit a disease of the sen- 
 timents. It seems to have its origin in the faculty of 
 abstraction : an excessive determination of thought
 
 171 
 
 towards the relations of cause and effect will tend 
 to carry the mind onward, beyond those that are ob- 
 vious and natural, among those that are obscure, re- 
 mote, and minute. The connections of cause and 
 effect, observable in the world of human affairs, 
 being much less constant, uniform, and simple, than 
 those which are presented to our senses in the world 
 of nature, this region of hidden causes and uncertain 
 effects affords a peculiarly seductive field of exercise 
 to malformed minds of the class above mentioned. The 
 intricate complications that arise from the combined 
 action of many individuals, the concealed motives, 
 unknown circumstances, and future conduct of other 
 men, together with the many possible consequences 
 of the words and actions of the individual, all yield 
 abundantly the matter from which may be spun endless 
 films of probability. A predominating taste for the 
 pursuit of this gossamer stuff, and a facility in making 
 retrograde calculations of conduct depending from it, 
 are often the primary causes of habitual simulation. 
 It is true, however, that a perverted taste of this 
 sort cannot fail soon to corrupt the sentiments ; nor, 
 perhaps, does it ever take the lead in a mind that 
 has by constitution the full pulse of kind and noble 
 emotions. 
 
 This same tendency to pursue the remoter connec- 
 tions of causes may produce, according to the direc- 
 tion that may be given to the character by its other 
 component principles, or by external circumstances, 
 
 Theoph. c
 
 172 
 
 either the dissembler and knave, or the abstruse 
 thinker, and subtle sophist ; and where there is 
 this similarity in the intellectual conformation, there 
 will often be a striking resemblance in manners and 
 in forms, even between individuals who differ as 
 widely as possible in moral character. I could place 
 beside each other two persons, the one a man of 
 high integrity, the other a knave, resembling each 
 other physiognomically in a degree that can only be 
 explained by tracing the two minds to their elements. 
 The first named of this pair, a man of unblemished 
 honour and great simplicity of manners, passes in 
 society for a profound thinker : he is distinguished by 
 his propensity to pursue the abstruse suggestions of 
 causation : he is perpetually imagining connections 
 among facts absurdly remote : he is an exact divider 
 of hairs in metaphysical discussions ; and a sophist in 
 argument, not because he wishes to mislead others, 
 but because he is himself constantly misled by his own 
 exquisite sagacity. The second is a thorough knave : 
 one who, while he pursues his object through the 
 path of falsehood and fraud, delights more in the way 
 than in the end : his pleasure is rather in his work 
 than in his wages. Though the love of gain is osten- 
 sibly the leading motive of his life ; it is in fact the 
 developement and exercise of his faculty that is the 
 ruling passion of his mind: and while successfully 
 working the machinery of deception, he feels a zest 
 and satisfaction akin to the enthusiasm of genius.
 
 If the two faces are compared, I will not affirm 
 that there will be no physiognomical indication of the 
 vast moral difference between the two characters ; 
 but while this indication will be of the faintest kind, 
 difficult to be ascertained or described, the identity 
 of the intellectual element is declared by the prevail- 
 ing similarity of form and expression. A physiogno- 
 mical description of the two faces would agree in 
 such particulars as the following : A bony structure, 
 more properly called slight than delicate ; defective 
 in symmetry, and graceless in its outlines. The 
 integuments thin, redundant, and flaccid. In the 
 complexion of the two men there is less resem- 
 blance ; that of the sophist being clear and cold ; 
 while that of the knave is lightly suffused with bile. 
 In both faces the cartilages are sharply expanded. 
 But it is chiefly in the habits of the muscles, their 
 action and subsidence, that the two minds discover 
 their elementary affinity. The specific nature of the 
 intellectual conformation, as displayed in the state 
 of the facial muscles, is, in most instances, easily 
 perceived ; and as easily distinguished from the in- 
 dications of moral or animal dispositions. Muscular 
 action in the face, accompanying emotion, is of a more 
 perfect kind than that which attends simple intellec- 
 tion. During a purely intellectual operation, the 
 muscles are held in a state of suspension, or of un- 
 steady counteraction : there appears to be a conten- 
 tion, either between antagonist muscles, or between
 
 174 
 
 the muscle and the weight of the part it sustains. 
 This is to be remarked especially in the eye-lids, the 
 brows, and the under jaw. And a suspensive habit 
 ,of the muscles of these parts may be considered as 
 the primary characteristic of the two faces of which 
 I am speaking. A suspended, or dropping, not a 
 fallen, or motionless lid, seems, alike in the sophist 
 and the knave, to skreen the senses while the mind is 
 gone in quest of some remote or minute suggestion. 
 And a similar suspensive retraction of the jaw by the 
 temporal muscles, and a puckered lip, all indicate that 
 sort of groping alertness of thought which is the cha- 
 racteristic state of this class of minds. The con- 
 traction of the brows belongs more often to some im- 
 perfect emotion, than to intellection : it will be found 
 oftener in the sophist than in the dissembler: as a 
 concomitant of knavery, it belongs only to faculties 
 of the lowest order. In such cases the action of the 
 muscles of the brows is infirm, catching, and unfi- 
 nished : the straitened intellect betrays its embarrass- 
 ment as it works its way through the dimness of its 
 own moral perversion. 
 
 It is generally true, that muscular action in the 
 face, after deducting for the degree of present emotion 
 and exertion, is in inverse proportion to the rate of 
 intelligence ; or, at least, to the soundness of the 
 faculties : the more mind, the less exterior movement. 
 Hence it is, as every observer of faces and characters 
 knows, that the most able and accomplished dis-
 
 175 
 
 sembler is the one who is the least likely to be de- 
 tected by his physiognomical expression. Nor is 
 this to be attributed so much to a higher proficiency 
 in the arts of self-command and concealment, as to 
 the excellence of the intellect. There are knaves 
 whose tact is so nice, whose perceptions are so 
 quick, and whose reasoning powers are so perfectly 
 serene and free from obstructions, that, even while 
 watching the crisis of a plot, or actually fingering 
 the threads of a fraud they might safely place their 
 smooth, gay, and tranquil faces by the side of the 
 open-eyed ingenuousness of youth ; or challenge com- 
 parison with the bland smile of beneficence and in- 
 tegrity : on the other hand, there are to be found luck- 
 less faces, very likely to bring their owners under 
 unfounded suspicion, which yet indicate nothing 
 worse than the alternate perplexity and chuckling 
 satisfaction of a petty mind, childishly crafty, per- 
 haps, in trifles, but thoroughly honest in matters of 
 importance. If then, as there is reason to believe, 
 the elements of the mental constitution prevail, in 
 physiognomical expression, over the indications of the 
 actual moral condition of the individual, it will follow 
 that discriminations of moral character founded upon 
 pretended physiognomical or craniological rules, have 
 scarcely a chance of being correct. Such decisions 
 are liable to error in many ways : for even if the 
 elements of mind were scientifically known ; and if 
 the constant external symbols of these elements were
 
 176 
 
 ascertained ; and if the results of individual combi- 
 nations of these elements were understood ; a capital 
 source of misinterpretation would remain, because 
 that which is most important in the actual condition of 
 the mind is often very remotely connected with mus- 
 cular action, and wholly independent of original con- 
 formation. And besides these uncertainties, belong- 
 ing to the imperfect state of our knowledge of human 
 nature, there is to be remembered the vagueness of 
 even the most precise verbal descriptions of form ; 
 and the incorrect observation of him who applies the 
 rule in each particular case. That sort of practised 
 talent of observation which is usually called tact, is 
 a better guide than any physiognomical rules can be : 
 but this faculty is liable to much fortuity ; and it is 
 incommunicable. But in using either tact or rules 
 for the discernment of character, we prosecute the 
 study of human nature in the wrong direction. 
 
 P. 9. 
 
 THE ADULATOR. 
 
 It is not my intention to occupy the space allotted 
 to these notes by observations upon those of the 
 characters that are nearly allied to each other: I 
 shall rather select such as may be assumed as leading 
 examples of distinct classes. The Parasite is a Dis-
 
 177 
 
 sembler, distinguished from his class only by the 
 actual corruption of his sentiments, and the concen- 
 tration of his faculties upon a particular object. If 
 it were intended to adduce instances for the purpose 
 of physiognomical analysis, a distinction must be ob- 
 served : there are Flatterers from policy, who have a 
 reserve of self-respect, and whose pride is crushed 
 as often as they cringe : and there are Flatterers (the 
 most proper examples of the class) who are trailed 
 at the heels of a superior from mere abjectness of soul, 
 and debility of volition. The profile (page 9) may 
 perhaps be considered as an instance of this kind. 
 Its obvious expression is that of abject devotion to 
 a particular object, animated by lurking treachery. 
 The whole contour, especially of the nose, indicates 
 a degree of enterprising cupidity, without which a 
 mind so much paralysed in its emotions could not 
 support the incessant labours of adulation. 
 
 P. 13. 
 
 THE GARRULOUS. 
 
 The distinction commonly made in the use of the 
 terms garrulity and loquacity, is founded upon an es- 
 sential difference between the two dispositions. Gar- 
 rulity results from the relaxed condition of faculties 
 which either have been, or which might become, if
 
 178 
 
 a touch could give equilibrium to the mind, alert, 
 and perhaps energetic. It is a case of debility. Lo- 
 quacity is more constitutional : it is the habit of the 
 faculties in their healthiest state. It is a case of 
 excessive excitability, often connected with some 
 original excellence in the organs of speech. Garrulity 
 has its tits and its relapses : the peal of one hour will 
 be followed by the torpor of the next : Loquacity is 
 more equable ; the velocity may vary, but the move- 
 ment is constant. Men are liable to become garru- 
 lous : women are sometimes loquacious. A garru- 
 lous child may make a silent man : a loquacious 
 child will be a talker to his latest breath. The talk- 
 ing of the garrulous is the jingling of bells loosely 
 hung in the wind : the talking of the loquacious is 
 the vibration of chords too tightly strained. Garru- 
 lity is broken, abrupt, and always tending towards 
 incoherency : the actual associations upon which the 
 series of suggestions are linked together are commonly 
 occult ; and often not easily to be divined. The sup- 
 ply of thought seems never to rise much above the 
 level of its exit. But loquacity is continuous, copious, 
 exuberant, the scatent stream boils out, and indi- 
 cates a bursting pressure from within. 
 
 That current of ideas which flows on through the 
 mind whenever it is undirected by volition, and un- 
 disturbed by emotion, has a character not difficult to 
 be distinguished : it is to be known by the apparent 
 prevalence of some of the simpler laws of sugges-
 
 179 
 
 tion, such as the proximity or contact of objects, in 
 time or place ; or the accidental consonance of words ; 
 or the perceptions of the instant. Although it may not 
 be easy at once to detect the real links of connection 
 in a garrulous effusion, we shall rarely fail to perceive 
 the fact whenever the mind thus dreams aloud, and the 
 tongue is tracking a series of fortuitous associations: 
 in such a case we are permitted to inspect, through 
 the organs of speech as a transparent medium, 
 what might be called, (if the allusion could be al- 
 lowed,) the peristaltic motion of the mind. In this 
 movement there is that peculiar character of even- 
 pacedness which belongs to all the undisturbed ope- 
 rations of nature. This immediate connection of the 
 faculty of speech with the involuntary current of 
 thought always implies the natural infirmity, the 
 immaturity, the temporary suspension, or the decay 
 of the will : hence it is the frequent concomitant of 
 infancy, of sickness, of constitutional weakness of 
 mind, and of extreme age ; but it occurs in no case 
 of totally deficient or exhausted excitability. 
 
 The head (III. p. 13.) exhibits the symptoms of a 
 high degree of constitutional excitability, together 
 with a hopeless infirmity of will. The current of in- 
 voluntary thought, though neither deep nor rapid, 
 flows with a force too great to be arrested or di- 
 verted by the other faculties : Reason bends in the 
 stream ; and the slender emotions float like straws on 
 the surface. The hair of the head falls from the 
 
 Theoph. D
 
 180 
 
 crown, as if it were the very symbol of a still and con- 
 tinuous rain of words : the sunken lids, the dropping 
 lip, and the flaccid integuments, declare the entire re- 
 laxation of the muscular system, and the concomitant 
 decay of the voluntary principle : at the same time 
 the restless and sanguine temperament keeps the 
 mind afloat above the level of inanity or torpor. This 
 head may be compared with the outline beneath, 
 which exhibits a near approach to idiotism. Here is 
 the same debility, and a scarcely less sanguine tempe- 
 rament ; but, from some physical straitness or obstruc- 
 tion in the mechanism of the mind, there is no re- 
 servoir of ideas capacious enough to supply a flow 
 even of the most inane garrulity. The successive 
 changes in the consciousness of this half-idiot consist 
 of flashes of thought and emotion imperfectly indicated 
 by a perpetual incoherent violence of muscular action.
 
 181 
 
 If we had before us the originals of these two 
 sketches, they might be assumed as proper instances 
 in which to study the phenomena of the constant in- 
 voluntary movement of the mind, exhibited in a 
 nearly simple state, and developed in a way much bet- 
 ter adapted to the purposes of philosophical analysis 
 than our personal consciousness can ever be. These 
 phenomena should be compared with those presented 
 by the mind during infancy, when the current of 
 thought depends more upon instant sensations than 
 upon memory ; and these again with the effects pro- 
 duced by the entire suspension of the voluntary prin- 
 ciple in sleep, when the suggestions of memory pre- 
 vail over those of sensation. The human mind, 
 complex in its original conformation, and almost 
 infinitely complicated by the continued interaction of 
 its elements, is very rarely exposed to our observa- 
 tion under any near approximation to a simple state ; 
 that is to say, when one of its elements is in undis- 
 turbed operation. Such instances, whenever they 
 occur, deserve the special attention of the student of 
 human nature. The time so often spent by the me- 
 taphysical inquirer in painful and unavailing efforts 
 to hold asunder the elements of his own consciousness, 
 would probably produce results more certain, intel- 
 ligible, and useful, if employed in the analysis and 
 comparison of other minds, as they are exposed to 
 observation in the physical appearances, the words, 
 and the conduct of the individuals who surround him.
 
 182 
 
 In the former course, as experience has amply 
 proved, little can be gained beyond a higher elabora- 
 tion, or a new combination of abstract phrases, which, 
 after all, will be fully intelligible to no one but to their 
 inventor. In the latter course, general facts might be 
 gradually ascertained ; and the science of the mind 
 might be so constituted, as should render it wholly 
 independent of logical niceties, or prudish delicacies of 
 expression. It seems to have been too generally as- 
 sumed as an obvious and unquestionable principle, that 
 when Mind is to be made the subject of philosophical 
 investigation, the sufficient materials of the inquiry are 
 contained in everyone's consciousness; that the whole 
 study is introspective ; and that a perfect analysis of 
 a single mind would yield us all that is attainable, or 
 even desirable in this department of knowledge. It 
 is true that it has been the common practice of meta- 
 physical inquirers, especially in modern times, to 
 make occasional references to facts gathered by ob- 
 servation ; but this has only, or chiefly been done when 
 such facts seemed conducive to the establishment and 
 illustration of a theory which had been previously 
 formed by an introspective analysis of its author's 
 individual consciousness. It hardly needs to be 
 shown that the analogy of the inductive philosophy 
 points to a method directly the reverse of this. We 
 must indeed learn, in the first instance, by the intro- 
 spection of our own minds, to interpret the symbols 
 of Mind as they are every where presented to our
 
 183 
 
 observation in the forms and the actions of conscious 
 beings. But having once mastered these symbols, 
 we should henceforward be employed, not in an 
 inane measurement and remeasurement of our alpha- 
 bet, but in actually perusing the great and various 
 volume of nature. 
 
 The assumed principle that Mind is exclusively, 
 or chiefly, to be learned by a continued analyti- 
 cal scrutiny of the phenomena of our own consci- 
 ousness, has operated, not only to shut out the com- 
 mon light of day from the walks of the science, and 
 to straighten its path ; but it has tended to leave 
 the study of human nature in the hands of that par- 
 ticular class of thinkers who are the least qualified to 
 lead it forth from the nether world of solitary specu- 
 lation. And, in fact, this department of science has 
 always been a sequestered haunt of ill-grown intel- 
 lects, from which men of sound understanding have 
 been fain to keep aloof. If the science of Mind is 
 ever to be placed upon terms of equality and corre- 
 spondence with the sister sciences, this service will 
 be performed not by dialecticians, but by philoso- 
 phers : not by those whose intellectual eminence 
 results from the disproportionate enlargement of a 
 single faculty the power of abstraction ; but by 
 those who surpass other men simply in a high and 
 rare perfection of common sense. There is, perhaps, 
 no conjunction of faculties so rare as that of the 
 power of abstraction, with the tact and the habit of
 
 184 
 
 observation. But both are indispensable to the study 
 of human nature. Without that power of abstraction 
 by which the changes and the elements of our con- 
 sciousness are held apart for separate examination, 
 the substance that is the object of the science will 
 never be distinctly apprehended ; and without the dis- 
 position to be conversant with common facts, the mind 
 will too quickly recede from the labours of observa- 
 tion, and amuse itself in a world of its own creation. 
 
 P. 16. 
 
 THE RUSTIC. 
 
 A state of perfectly balanced activity in the facial 
 muscles, without tension or rigidity, without relax- 
 ation or torpor, without the alternations of an ill- 
 adjusted counteraction, indicates the symmetry of the 
 intellectual conformation : a mind of this sort ripens 
 early, not precociously ; and retains late the bloom 
 and freshness of maturity. Minds that are not sus- 
 ceptible of finishing, rest nowhere between infancy 
 and decay : after the first alertness of the powers is 
 impaired, there is a constantly progressive deterio- 
 ration, which is skreened from observation solely by 
 the permanency of habits. The stiffening of the facul- 
 ties holds the character in form, long after movement
 
 185 
 
 has become impracticable. In cases of this sort it is 
 the peculiarities of childhood, not those of youth, 
 that are fixed upon the face, the manners, and the 
 mind. The profile (IV. p. 16.) may be placed for a 
 moment in comparison with the one beneath. Besides 
 the more obvious contrast between the masculine and 
 rude grossness of the one head, and the infantile and 
 feminine delicacy of the other ; we may remark the 
 scarcely less obvious indications of the obtuse per- 
 ceptions of the man, and of the fine and exact per- 
 ceptions of the child ; of the ungoverned volitions 
 of that, and of the tranquil self-command of this ; 
 of the fixed and hopeless infancy of the adult, and 
 of the certain promise of maturity in the infant.
 
 180 
 
 In the character and physiognomy of the boor ; that 
 is to say, of one who is such by nature, not from the 
 mere want of education ; it is not so much the obtru- 
 sive grossness of his appetites, and the heedless rude- 
 ness of his manners that are to be remarked, as that de- 
 fect in his conformation, which renders him incapable 
 of improvement. The true nature of the principle 
 of improvement, as well as the source of this defect, 
 would discover itself to us if we had frequent oppor- 
 tunity of bringing into comparison two cases similar 
 to those which I have here adduced ; in one of which 
 the mind and the form present only a rude exaggera- 
 tion of infancy ; and in the other, where the mind and 
 the form seem always to be a graceful step in ad- 
 vance of the actual years. A natural incapability 
 of improvement often exhibits appearances very si- 
 milar to those which proceed from infirmity of vo- 
 lition or paralysis of the faculties : the words and 
 actions present the same denudation of the invo- 
 luntary changes of the mind ; but the cases are essen- 
 tially different. It is neither the general weakness 
 of the mind, nor the deficiency of particular powers 
 that necessarily impedes its progress towards matu- 
 rity. Instances of perennial infancy are not infre- 
 quent, in which the higher emotions, as well as the 
 appetites, are vigorous ; the tone of the mind healthy, 
 and the imagination and the reasoning powers not 
 below mediocrity. It is perhaps upon the degree of 
 ease or difficulty with which the mind can hold itself
 
 187 
 
 for a length of time in a state of complex or multi- 
 farious intellection, upon which, chiefly, depends its 
 susceptibility of improvement, or of advancement to- 
 wards perfection. The doctrine that the human mind 
 can be occupied with only one idea or emotion in the 
 same instant, I believe to be an unfounded assump- 
 tion. But if it were true, the fact remains the same, 
 that the mind is often in a state which, if we were not 
 taught to think it impossible, we should believe to be 
 complex : that is to say, a state in which various 
 operations are simultaneously carried on. It is also a 
 fact that minds differ very widely, both in the degree 
 of complex or multifarious intellection of which they 
 are capable ; and in the length of time during which 
 they can sustain and direct this complex state : and 
 these differences measure, I think, the rate of their 
 improvement. I do not pretend to trace the cause of 
 the difference higher; although it would be easy to 
 do so upon the beaten path of pure analysis : but 
 deductions that are not the result of multifarious 
 observation of individual cases, are of little value. 
 
 There is a rude, reckless, and infantile incoherency 
 or extravagance of conduct which very often charac- 
 terises those who are highly gifted in some single 
 faculty. Indeed, men of eminent, but restricted ge- 
 nius, such, for example, as mechanicians, artists* 
 musicians, and second-rate poets, have, with few 
 exceptions, a something about them either of fatuity 
 or of ferocity ; so that their familiar companions are 
 
 Theoph. E
 
 188 
 
 often in doubt whether the being with whom they have 
 to do, is most of the babe or the bear. This peculi- 
 arity is frequently the consequence of the collapse 
 and exhaustion of over-strained faculties : sometimes, 
 no doubt, it proceeds from rank arrogance or affec- 
 tation: but I am inclined to believe that, in most 
 instances, it is intimately connected with the organic 
 cause of a partial mental superiority. I mean to say, 
 that the preponderating force of a single faculty in the 
 mind is commonly in inverse proportion to its capa- 
 bility of remaining in a state of complex intellection : 
 and it is this capability that I have assumed to be the 
 element of general improvement, and of high finishing 
 in the character. 
 
 P. 19. 
 
 THE PLAUSIBLE. 
 
 The latter half of this chapter, beginning at the 
 words Koti 9rAeo-Tx5 8g avoxeipua-Qw, appears to have 
 been removed from its original place, and improperly 
 joined to this chapter: the description would much 
 better suit the character of the Vain, or the Osten- 
 tatious. Yet it did not seem necessary to make a 
 conjectural transposition of the text ; but in the trans- 
 lation, the two discrepant portions are tied together 
 by the very admissible assertion that, ' a man of 
 this temper is usually a fop.' The text of this latter
 
 portion of the chapter has probably suffered from the 
 carelessness or ignorance of transcribers ; and it has 
 perhaps sustained nearly equal injury from the inge- 
 nuity of editors. It contains also several phrases of 
 rather doubtful meaning, upon the elucidation of 
 which many closely-printed pages of learned Latin 
 have been bestowed : for annotations of this sort I 
 must refer my readers to the editions of Casaubon, 
 Fischer, Morell, Needham, Duport, Schneider, Astius, 
 Coray, &c. as well as for those which set forth the 
 several claims and merits of the very numerous va- 
 rious readings. I may be permitted here to say, 
 that though I do not obtrude critical details of this 
 sort upon my readers, yet, in preparing the text for 
 the press, I have collated all the principal editions 
 with no little diligence. After a full and patient 
 comparison of existing variations, and proposed 
 emendations, I have, in most cases, avoided mere con- 
 jecture ; and leaned to the readings adopted by the 
 majority of editors. The text of, perhaps, few ancient 
 authors has come down to us in a more mangled state 
 than that of Theophrastus. The most sagacious and 
 learned of his editors Casaubon, is perpetually ex- 
 claiming' conclamatus locus ! ulcus, ulcus in- 
 sanabile ! locus et mutilus et corruptus ; locus est 
 vitii manifestos ; vel subobscurus, vel corruptus, vel 
 utrumque ; sensum, puto, expressimus ; verba autem 
 valde sunt depravata:' and the most judicious of 
 them, Needham, frequently brings a laborious
 
 criticism merely to this conclusion, * Liberum esto 
 lectori judicium.' In some instances, where a manifest 
 depravation of the text exists, I have used a greater 
 liberty of emendation in the translation than I could 
 venture to admit in the Greek : and when there has 
 been left, in the latter, uncured, a wound pronounced 
 by the critics to be insanabile ; I have, in the version, 
 endeavoured to conceal the offence by giving a less 
 specific turn to the passage. 
 
 The Plausible, or the man who would fain please 
 all the world, differs from the Adulator in being a 
 more trivial, and a less corrupted character. He may 
 be thoroughly well-meaning : the Flatterer is always 
 a knave. 
 
 P. 22. 
 
 THE RUFFIAN. 
 
 'O 'ATtovevo^evos a man who acts as if he were be- 
 reft of his understanding : a madman, not by dis- 
 ease, but by temper. One may frequently meet with 
 good-humoured and very reasonable men, whose 
 rugged, mis-shapen and mobile faces might, in an 
 instant of trivial agitation, be supposed to indicate 
 the highest violence of temper : and there are others 
 who, with faces almost as smooth and placid as that 
 of the sleeping infant, are liable to frenzies of out- 
 rageous passion ; or who, under the cloak of man-
 
 191 
 
 ners that bespeak confidence, run about, with a sort of 
 cheerful diligence, as the incendiaries of society. So 
 little can we depend upon any supposed proportion be- 
 tween the moral qualities of the mind, and the strength, 
 relief, or extravagance of its exterior symbols. I 
 believe that, generally, the character of the malignant, 
 brutal and dangerous ruffian will be much less strongly 
 and obviously marked on the form, than that of one 
 who is more troublesome, but less to be feared, 
 more noisy, brawling, and scurrilous, but less rational. 
 The perpetrator of some appalling atrocity, instead of 
 being distinguished by a physiognomy picturesquely 
 horrific, shall escape the eye of an experienced ob- 
 server who would detect him in a crowd. In fact, 
 among the worst specimens of human nature we shall 
 find many who seem to have become what they are, 
 rather from the want of certain sensibilities, and from 
 a peculiar restlessness of temper; than from any 
 ungovernable constitutional propensities. It is no 
 wonder that instances of this sort should perplex 
 those who have adopted broad physiognomical 
 rules, and apply them to individuals, without a 
 comprehensive regard to the philosophy of human 
 nature. In the examination of extreme cases, such, 
 for example, as that of a bold invader of property, 
 or perpetrator of unusual barbarities, we are liable to 
 very false conclusions by taking up that measurement 
 of crime which is given to us by the verdict of a jury. 
 In the eye of the philosophical moralist, or the physi-
 
 192 
 
 ologist, this instance will, perhaps, appear to differ 
 scarcely at all from a thousand other instances of 
 equal turpitude, that attract no attention, except in 
 what is purely accidental or circumstantial. A man 
 commits a murder, and is hanged for it ; and the 
 head is borne away in glee by eager speculatists upon 
 the bony and medullary developement of organs : 
 the cast is taken with religious care ; and the omi- 
 nous protuberance of destmctiveness is triumphantly 
 pointed out, at the due degree of its latitude and 
 longitude : and, forthwith, the instance goes to the 
 corroboration of a system; and all this, upon the 
 very inconsequential presumption, that a man who has 
 caused the death of another, under the circumstances 
 which bring the case within a legal definition, must be, 
 by his physical conformation, a destroyer of life. 
 But even supposing there to have been in this case 
 plain indications of the existence of some original 
 propensity to destructiveness, or combativeness, or what 
 not, they ought to be considered simply as furnishing 
 a suggestion for inquiry : it is egregiously unphilo- 
 sophical to assume overt acts, indiscriminately, as the 
 ground of scientific classifications of character. 
 Before any general inductions relative to the corre- 
 spondence between forms and dispositions can be 
 established with precision, many correlative ques- 
 tions which have yet scarcely been distinctly stated, 
 must be brought to a satisfactory conclusion. I am far 
 from intending to affirm the non-existence of this cor-
 
 193 
 
 respondence ; on the contrary, I have a strong belief 
 in the existence of an absolute, perfect, and inva- 
 riable relation, between the form, the complexion, 
 the texture of the integuments, the chemical qualities 
 solids and fluids, and the qualities of the mind. But 
 I do not perceive that, hitherto, any approach has 
 been made towards a scientific knowledge of the physi- 
 cal concomitants of mind. The system which has 
 lately made great pretensions, is liable to obvious 
 and capital objections. Such, for instance, as the 
 following : 
 
 That analysis of the human mind which is the 
 basis of the system, and upon the absolute perfection 
 of which the justness of its pretended interpretation 
 of external symbols wholly depends, is, to say no- 
 thing of the preposterous jargon in which it is con- 
 veyed, at once defective, and redundant : scanty 
 without being simple ; and full but not comprehensive. 
 
 Even admitting this wordy analysis of the ele- 
 ments of mind to be just, and sufficient, and expressed 
 with the highest degree of precision and propriety, 
 the system neither does, nor, with its exclusive means, 
 can it calculate upon the derangements, obscurations, 
 or mislocations of the symbols, consequent upon dis- 
 turbing intercausations in each individual combination 
 of the elements. If A. B. C. D. E, are the universal 
 elements of the human mind, we may meet with a 
 case in which B, and D, though not wholly wanting, 
 shall be so far crushed, or impoverished by the over-
 
 194 
 
 growth of A. C, and E, that A. C, and E, will be de- 
 veloped in forms totally different from those which 
 would have belonged to them in a more symmetrical 
 combination. Where numerous elements are actually 
 liable to as many different combinations as they are 
 mathematically capable of, general rules may be ima- 
 gined ; but they can never be inferred from one class 
 of facts ; for the exceptions will be vastly more nu- 
 merous than the instances of conformity. 
 
 Besides this probable disturbance of the form of 
 the cranium from the various combination of the ele- 
 ments of mind, it needs to be proved that it is not ex- 
 posed to influences altogether unconnected with mind. 
 If the figure of the medullary substance were related 
 simply and exclusively to the qualities of thought, it 
 would seem not impracticable to ascertain the lo- 
 cation of the influence of these qualities upon the 
 substance ; but there is great reason to presume that 
 this figure is liable to several independent disturbing 
 causes ; even admitting that the quality of thought 
 primarily gives law to the form. 
 
 The two last-mentioned objections relate to the 
 probable equivocation or disturbance of the symbols. 
 But besides these sources of uncertainty, there is also 
 reason to believe, (at least the contrary cannot be af- 
 firmed,) that the qualities of the mind are related to, 
 dependent upon, or more or less remotely influenced 
 by, such qualities of the organ of thought, as are wholly 
 unconnected with the causes that determine the figure
 
 195 
 
 of the brain. Many facts suggest the supposition that 
 the force, the susceptibilities, the tendency and dis- 
 position, of the mind, are primarily determined by 
 (or that they determine,) the chemical properties, not 
 merely of the solids and fluids of the cranium, but of 
 all the secretions of the body. It is to be presumed 
 as possible, and even probable, that two minds, dif- 
 fering widely in force, tendency, or disposition, might 
 be found, tenanting heads alike in dimension and 
 figure ; while the difference between them should pro- 
 ceed solely from some chemical differences in the se- 
 cretions : and until it shall be fully proved that the 
 qualities of the mind are influenced by no such che- 
 mical differences, wholly independent of figure and 
 dimension, the interpretation of mind by mathemati- 
 cal symbols alone must be liable to indefinite uncer- 
 tainty. A system for the interpretation of the quali- 
 ties of the mind by external symbols, such as might 
 merit to be called phrenology, must be founded upon 
 the combined observation of all the physical concomi- 
 tants of mind. It is an egregious misnomer to con- 
 fer this title upon a system of observations and hy- 
 potheses relating exclusively to the figure of the skull. 
 The Craniologists ought to return to craniology : as 
 collectors of facts in a single department, they might 
 render important services to the general science of 
 Human Nature. 
 
 Tlteoph.
 
 190 
 
 P. 25. 
 
 THE LOQUACIOUS. 
 
 A skull without a record ought to be deemed of 
 little value as a material of science : it should be used 
 merely as affording an exercise of physiognomical 
 tact. The one of which I here present an outline, 
 seems to me to have belonged to a high-toned ner-
 
 197 
 
 vous system ; and to have been that of a female. 
 Whatever may be its protuberances, or its concavi- 
 ties, the general character of the lines gives me the 
 idea of propensities depending primarily, and chiefly, 
 upon the qualities of the chylificative secretions. In 
 this supposition there is an acknowledgment of the 
 symbolic significance of the bony structure. But its 
 meaning, in the present instance, seems to me to be 
 rather reflected than direct : and if the living subject 
 were under observation, the obvious course would be 
 to turn from the obscurer inscription, written in bone, 
 to the much more obtrusive and intelligible characters, 
 every where to be read upon the exterior : and instead 
 of fumbling for mysteries on the head, to seek, in the 
 texture and colour of the integuments, in the forms 
 of the cartilages, in the proportions and the habits 
 of the facial muscles, and in the condition of the 
 teeth, for the unequivocal indications of the qualities 
 of the secretions, and of the tone and susceptibility 
 of the nervous system. In the interpretation of these 
 concomitants of temper and faculty, we are liable 
 to little error ; because the symbol and its meaning 
 are daily placed together under our observation. I 
 have here introduced this outline because its pro- 
 minent character appears to me to centre in the or- 
 gans of speech, and to be that of indefatigable facun- 
 dity, sharpened by the acridness of the gastric fluids; 
 and made shrill and continuous by a tight-strained 
 nervous system. But all this is mere conjecture;
 
 198 
 
 another eye might read a wholly different meaning in 
 the same symbols. 
 
 I have already distinguished the Loquacious from 
 the Garrulous. There are distinct classes of the Lo- 
 quacious : as, the Trivial, whose loquacity is the in- 
 dispensable vent of great excitability, unbalanced by 
 reason or feeling : the Social, whose loquacity results 
 from an exaggeration of the sentiments that hold man 
 in society : the Eloquent, whose loquacity is in- 
 spired, either by a galloping imagination ; or by the 
 intensity of superficial and momentary emotions : the 
 Objurgative, a class of the loquacious who find their 
 never-failing materials among the mishaps and mis- 
 deeds of the domestic sphere. There is also, I think, 
 a case of loquacity which immediately results from 
 I know not whether to call it a disease or a perfec- 
 tion of the organs of speech, and perhaps also of 
 those of hearing, which makes talking an instinctive 
 and uncontroulable propensity, as jumping is to the 
 squirrel, or running to the hind. To this case is ap- 
 plicable the expression attributed to the character by 
 our author co$ ev uygw l<mv ^ yXwrra the tongue is hung 
 flexibly. The head (VII. p. 25.) indicates an unusual 
 velocity of suggestion: this brain would whirl itself 
 into insanity, if it were not happily checked by its con- 
 nection with the necessarily slower oscillations of the 
 tongue.
 
 199 
 P. 28. 
 
 THE FABRICATOR OF NEWS. 
 
 There is no kind of mental pravity which, with 
 whatever other qualities it may be joined, makes it- 
 self more distinctly visible in the face, than the pro- 
 pensity to lie : it lurks in every feature ; and it com- 
 municates a sort of family likeness to faces that have 
 no other point of resemblance. Although this pecu- 
 liar physiognomical indication is so plain, I must 
 confess myself to be quite unable to say in what it 
 consists. The disposition itself has sometimes more 
 of the character of an instinctive propensity, than of 
 any definite or assignable motive. There are in- 
 stances in which it appears to be nothing more than 
 the exaltation of a cold imagination, constantly hun- 
 gering for excitement. This excitement the liar fur- 
 nishes for himself ; while the busybody runs about to 
 seek for it in other men's affairs. When falsehood is 
 designedly employed as the base means for accom- 
 plishing an unworthy purpose, it brings the individual 
 under another order of character : it is the gratuitous, 
 and almost involuntary liar, who must be taken as the 
 proper specimen of his class. An inconsequential 
 habit of thought infirmity of will, together with a 
 torpid or relaxed state of the sentiments may, per- 
 haps, be the most usual combination from which this
 
 200 
 
 propensity results. This might be inferred from what 
 seem to be the elements of the opposite disposition, 
 the love of truth, or, more properly, the love of vera- 
 city. The common phrase the love of truth, is am- 
 biguous ; being as often employed to signify the de- 
 sire of knowledge, as a moral regard to the exact- 
 ness of our declarations ; two things wholly distinct, 
 and often actually found apart. The philosophical 
 love of truth, or knowledge, is a rare excellence, purely 
 intellectual : it results from an original susceptibility 
 in a high degree, to that pleasurable emotion which is 
 concomitant with the perception of connections of 
 cause and effect, or of any permanent abstract rela- 
 tion. In common minds this emotion is too weak 
 to produce any habit that is perceptible in the charac- 
 ter ; too weak to divert for a moment a trivial pur- 
 suit, or to repel the lightest prejudice. But in rarer 
 instances it is strong enough to quench animal appe- 
 tites, to lift reason above the atmosphere of passion, 
 and, in a word, to rule and absorb the whole being. 
 And yet, such is the dimness of our present condi- 
 tion, and such the intricacy of the system of things 
 with which we are surrounded, that minds, even thus 
 eminently gifted, seem to be scarcely less liable to err 
 than others. There is however this difference ; that, 
 while with the mass of minds error, perpetually pro- 
 duced by confusion of thought, or by the bias of im- 
 proper motives, accompanies every step ; with minds 
 ruled by the sovereign desire of knowledge, error is
 
 201 
 
 but, as it were, an unhappy accident, consequent 
 upon the mistake of a cipher in the commencement 
 of the process. This intellectual love of truth, when 
 happily conjoined with that moral disposition which 
 is more properly so denominated, produces one of the 
 finest and the rarest combinations of which human 
 nature is susceptible : even without the highest rate of 
 intellectual power it suffices to give a dignity to the 
 character that makes a man a seraph among his fel- 
 lows. The being to whom a lie is possible, deserves 
 to be called a slave, TO y.p 4/euS=cr9ai SouXoTrpsTrej, and 
 he who can acquiesce without regret in ignorance or 
 error, is little better than an animal ; but a predomi- 
 nating appetite for knowledge, and a supreme regard 
 to truth, are qualities which, when united, forestal the 
 benefits of perfected knowledge, and of unerring intel- 
 ligence. There is an obtrusive pretension to strict 
 veracity, which is the indication of a trivial scrupulo- 
 sity of temper, or of prosing loquacity : it will be mi- 
 nutely exact, with its supplements, and its correc- 
 tions, and its revisions of every statement, from the 
 mere love of prolixity. In a mind distinguished by a 
 genuine regard to truth there will be found, besides the 
 emotions of self-respect, and religious integrity, a firm 
 and steady coherency of thought, precision in the 
 faculties of perception, a great power of attention, 
 and, in the habitual series of associations, much more 
 of regular antecedence and consequence, than of for- 
 tuity, or instantaneous impulse.
 
 202 
 P. 31. 
 
 THE SORDID. 
 
 This character, the two immediately following, 
 and the twenty-third, are allied in their ostensible 
 objects, and often pursue a similar course; yet in 
 disposition they are distinguishable. The Sordid, or 
 the man greedy of filthy lucre, and the Shameless, 
 are influenced by the desire of acquisition : the Par- 
 simonious and the Penurious, by the fear of loss. 
 But I have no intention to attempt to frame defini- 
 tions, or to insist upon verbal distinctions. Although, 
 in fact, it is a much easier thing to adjust the pro- 
 prieties of a nomenclature, or to display the relative 
 position of metaphysical terms, or to make artificial 
 classifications of the qualities of mind, than to de- 
 scribe and to analyse the varieties of disposition as 
 they are actually presented in living instances. The 
 one process is a mere play of the mind with its own 
 materials : the other is a labour that demands the in- 
 tellectual habits of a secluded student in one who 
 must be greatly conversant in the world. The dif- 
 ference between the two above mentioned methods, 
 and their comparative merits, may here be well exhi- 
 bited. The one method, consisting in the description 
 and analysis of individual character, as pursued by 
 Theophrastus ; the other, consisting in the definition
 
 203 
 
 and distribution of the qualities of the mind, consi- 
 dered abstractedly, as practised by Aristotle. In 
 making this comparison it must be premised that, 
 while the Ethics of Aristotle furnish, perhaps, the 
 best extant specimens of the logical method of treat- 
 ing the science of human nature, the characters of 
 Theophrastus are far from being equally proper and 
 sufficient specimens of the method of observation and 
 analysis : viewed in this light, they are defective in 
 two respects : in the first place, these descriptions 
 contain only, or chiefly, those symptoms of the indi- 
 vidual case which are the most obviously characteris- 
 tic of the predominant disposition ; but, for the pur- 
 poses of a scientific analysis, we need to have before 
 us an entire enumeration of the symptoms of every case, 
 those that, at first sight, seem the least, as well as 
 those that are the most obviously significant : other- 
 wise, we are exposed to the same source of error 
 that forms the chief objection to the abstract method, 
 namely, a habit of regarding the qualities or dis- 
 positions of the mind in a form in which they never 
 actually exist, that is to say single and uncom- 
 pounded. In the second place, these descriptions are 
 not accompanied by intimations or instructions for 
 instituting an analysis of the facts adduced. Al- 
 though this process of analysis may be considered as 
 more properly an afterwork ; yet, unless some hints 
 on which it may be commenced are noted while the 
 individual case is under the eye, the clue is likely to 
 
 Tlieoph. o
 
 204 
 
 be lost irrecoverably. To these two defects might 
 be added, the want of any notification of the physical 
 concomitants of the individual character ; such as 
 form, complexion, temperament, &c. Complete de- 
 scriptions of individual cases, adapted to the pur- 
 poses of philosophical analysis and classification, 
 have never yet, as far as I know, been attempted. 
 
 It may, however, be allowable, as a matter of cu- 
 riosity, notwithstanding the above-named grounds of 
 exception, to place in contrast the two methods, as 
 practised by the Master and his Disciple. The fol- 
 lowing quotation from the Ethics of Aristotle may 
 be compared with the characters of the Sordid, the 
 Shameless, the Parsimonious, and the Penurious, as 
 described by Theophrastus. Having treated of Pro- 
 digality and its kindred vices, affirming that, under 
 proper direction, these propensities may be restrained 
 and corrected ; he says, 
 
 ' But a sordid attachment to money is an incurable 
 disease : it is generated by infirmity of mind, whether 
 resulting from extreme age, or other causes. This vice 
 seems to find a much more congenial soil in the human 
 heart, than the opposite propensity to profusion : for 
 truly there are many more lovers of gain, than of giving, 
 in the world. The disposition ramifies widely, and 
 makes its appearance under a variety of forms. Many 
 are the modifications of avarice: we may, however, 
 consider all these modifications as comprehended under 
 two general divisions ; and as being either a defec-
 
 205 
 
 tiveness in the bestowraent, or an exorbitance in the 
 acquisition, of property. Nor do we in fact usually 
 find these two propensities conjoined in the same in- 
 dividual : for, while some men are distinguished by 
 their eagerness in seeking gain, others are so, by their 
 reluctance in spending what they possess. Those, for 
 example, upon whom are bestowed the epithets par- 
 simonious, stingy, niggardly, and so forth, are faulty 
 only by defect : they neither invade nor covet the pro- 
 perty of others. Indeed, there are some persons of 
 this sort who are remarkable for the equity of their 
 dealings, and their careful avoidance of all dishonour- 
 able practices: and some also there are who seem, 
 (so at least they profess,) to pursue a plan of exces- 
 sive parsimony from this very motive, that they may 
 never be compelled by necessity to seek dishonest 
 gains. To this general class are to be referred all 
 those who derive some vulgar appellation from their 
 excessive grudging of expense; such, for example, 
 as the man who will divide a grain of cummin the 
 split-farthing, and so forth. Others there are who are 
 restrained from invading the property of their neigh- 
 bours, only by the fear of retaliation, knowing that it 
 is not easy for him to retain his own, who makes free 
 with the possessions of another : they content them- 
 selves, therefore, not to acquire, if they can avoid the 
 hazard of loss. Under the second general division 
 are found those who are distinguished by the indis- 
 criminate greediness with which they grasp at gain, of
 
 206 
 
 any kind, and from any quarter. Such are they that pur- 
 sue disreputable callings, panders, usurers, those 
 who would move the world to find a farthing: all 
 these receive, either whence they ought not, or what 
 they ought not ; and to all of them belongs the shame 
 of being lovers of filthy lucre ; for all of them, for the 
 sake of gain, and even the smallest gain, are ready to 
 incur reproach.' 
 
 Such is the method in which the dispositions of 
 human nature arc treated of in the Ethics of Aris- 
 totle. It is, in fact, little more than a classification 
 raisonnte of abstract terms, often, in the highest de- 
 gree acute and ingenious ; purely dialectical in its 
 style and spirit; and well adapted to gratify and exer- 
 cise a logical taste. But even after a system of distinc- 
 tions of this sort has been perfected, down to its 
 minutest subdivisions, nothing substantial is added 
 to our knowledge of human nature, such as it actu- 
 ally exists in individual instances. Knowledge is in- 
 creased by Enumeration, Description, and Analysis ; 
 not by Definition or Classification ; which serve no 
 other purposes than those of exercising the faculty 
 of abstraction, or of aiding the memory in the reten- 
 tion of knowledge already acquired. The definitions 
 and distinctions of Aristotle are too logical, the 
 descriptions of Theophrastus are rather too dramatic 
 for the purposes of science. 
 
 In order to gain a complete and distinct knowledge 
 of a single element of any compound body which does
 
 207 
 
 not admit of an actual separation of parts, there are 
 two methods to be pursued : the first, is to watch those 
 occasions when the element that is the subject of ex- 
 amination is in a state of full and undisturbed opera- 
 tion ; the second, is to note its changing appearances 
 or modifications under the greatest possible variety of 
 combination with other elements, or with extrinsic 
 causes. It is in these methods of observation and 
 experiment that the analysis of material substances is 
 conducted ; and thus also, if an element of mind is 
 the subject of investigation, it must first be observed 
 in those occasions when, either by its own predomi- 
 nating force, or by the decay or torpor of other facul- 
 ties, it is exposed in a state of undisturbed action : 
 and, having in this way learned its more striking and 
 unequivocal characteristics, it then remains to iden- 
 tify the faculty or the motive in the greatest possible 
 variety of instances, where it can be detected in com- 
 bination with other elements of character ; noting, at 
 the same time, all the physical concomitants of every 
 case. It is thus, and not by a forced analytical 
 introspection of our own consciousness, that we 
 may hope to gain a substantial knowledge of Mind. 
 In the pursuit of these methods we can hardly fail of 
 two results : first, that we shall progressively, and 
 without labour, gain intelligence in interpreting the 
 external symbols of character : and, secondly, that a 
 true analysis of the universal elements of Mind will, 
 by the frequent presentation of these elements under
 
 208 
 
 different forms, obtrude itself upon our notice : that 
 simplification of facts towards which so little progress 
 has been made by the solitary efforts, even of the 
 acutest minds, will gradually come out from a natu- 
 ral process of induction. 
 
 The greater part of this chapter 
 is derived from a manuscript copy of the Characters, 
 discovered in the library of the Vatican, and first 
 printed at Parma in the year 1786 : of this chapter, 
 as well as of the thirtieth, and some portions of 
 others, no English translation has, I believe, before 
 appeared. 
 
 P. 35. 
 
 THK SHAMELESS. 
 
 If this character is distinguished from the last, it is 
 only by the addition of audacity, in the one, to the 
 less courageous greediness of the other. It often 
 happens that what is ostensibly the governing passion, 
 is in fact nothing more than a phasis of the real lead- 
 ing motive of the mind. Many apparent contradic- 
 tions in human character are to be explained on this 
 principle. The ostensible motive gives the name to 
 the character ; and being thus assigned to its class, 
 we examine it under a false supposition ; and after
 
 209 
 
 some unavailing efforts to explain the facts of the 
 case upon the assumed hypothesis, conclude, that the 
 instance is anomalous ; or, in common language, that 
 the character is full of inconsistencies. For exam- 
 ple : The conduct of two individuals under similar 
 circumstances is as nearly alike as can be supposed : 
 they are both called avaricious ; and to one of them 
 the epithet belongs with strict propriety ; but if ap- 
 plied to the other, it is the name, rather of the conduct 
 than of the character ; for in this instance there is 
 more of a rank, impudent, vulture-like delight in all 
 that is gross and foul, than of the simple desire of ac- 
 quisition : the man pounces in broad day-light upon 
 the property of his neighbour, less for the sake of 
 the prey, than for the pleasure of the bold and shame- 
 less invasion: and if on some occasion we see him 
 saucily grasp the offal, when he might with impunity 
 have stolen the sheep, we are at a loss to account for 
 the fact, while the love of gain is imagined to be his 
 ruling passion. 
 
 The names of permanent qualities, or constitutional 
 dispositions, are rather forensic than physiological : 
 that is to say, they are drawn from the overt acts of 
 the life ; not from any discrimination of motives : they 
 must therefore be discarded, if we wish to carry in- 
 quiry beyond the colloquial distinctions of character. 
 The confusion and obscurity that arise from this 
 source, are still greater on the side of intellectual or 
 moral excellencies; because, as the marking the
 
 210 
 
 show the overt act is less strong and distinct, the 
 terras themselves are less accurately framed ; and 
 they are also liable to be applied with much less pro- 
 priety : hence, in part, is derived a common, but ge- 
 nerally erroneous doctrine, that the wise and good 
 are more often inconsistent with themselves, than the 
 foolish and profligate, or that the conduct of the for- 
 mer is frequently more hard to be accounted for than 
 that of the latter. It is indeed true, that folly and 
 vice are inconsistencies, if supposed to be nearly asso- 
 ciated with wisdom and virtue : but the apparent in- 
 consistency in particular instances, arises as often 
 from the vagueness of the terms by which character is 
 designated, and from their improper application, as 
 from any actual anomaly in the conduct of the indivi- 
 dual. That a man of so sound a judgment should 
 think or speak thus, and thus ; that one so eminently 
 kind and generous should act thus, and thus ; that a 
 head so cool and calculating should have erred so 
 egregiously, must be very perplexing, while we are 
 vainly labouring to match colloquial descriptions of 
 character, with the overt acts of the life. 
 
 P. 37. 
 
 THE PARSIMONIOUS. 
 
 If we look only at the mind, the effects of Fear, 
 whether it be a momentary impulse, or a constitu-
 
 211 
 
 tional propensity, are very nearly allied to those that 
 accompany insanity. In the former case it operates, 
 more than even stronger passions, to perturb the fa- 
 culties of perception ; or rather, to give a vividness 
 to interior images that overpowers actual sensations. 
 When fear is chronical, the disease falls inward, and 
 deranges the reasoning powers : this is the case of the 
 Miser. The understanding is frozen up in perpetual 
 absurdities : its premises are false, and the inferences 
 drawn from them stand in direct contradiction to 
 the whole system of human affairs, and to every day's 
 experience. To attribute a value, wholly fictitious, to 
 the mere representative of the means of enjoyment, 
 to endure, voluntarily and constantly, the miseries of 
 want, lest want should come, to be held in the un- 
 relaxing grasp of a single motive, and to be fixed, 
 without remission, upon one train of ideas, are the 
 symptoms of a state of mind between which and mad- 
 ness the visible difference is not wide. A middle 
 term is wanted, under which might be classed very 
 numerous cases, that must be distinguished from 
 actual madness, because they do not imply any de- 
 rangement of the animal functions ; and yet the en- 
 thralment of the understanding in these cases is as 
 real ; and the malady is less medicable. False judge- 
 ments, plainly springing up from some constitutional 
 propensity, produced, reproduced, and perpetuated, 
 in the face of common sense and experience, are in- 
 sanities, that evince a palsy of the higher faculties of 
 
 Tlteopl,. H
 
 the mind : the violences of madness are wanting ; but 
 reason seems to have passed, not less completely, 
 beyond the influence of persuasion. 
 
 P. 40. 
 
 THE IMPURE. 
 
 The description of this character is rather incon- 
 gruous : it has probably been made up of uncon- 
 nected fragments, by a collector or transcriber. The 
 sketch (XII.) must be viewed as belonging only to the 
 first sentence of this chapter, and to the paragraph 
 from which the quotation is taken. The physiogno- 
 mical expression is that of the sensualist ; and it in- 
 dicates a union not very frequent, of all the animal 
 propensities, in nearly equal force. The exterior 
 offensiveness of different vices is a very false rule by 
 which to measure the degrees of moral turpitude : for 
 the effects produced by excess in the indulgence of a 
 single appetite will always be more disgusting than 
 those which attend much more flagitious debauchery, 
 when there is a balancing and a proportion among 
 the propensities. So that this sort of symmetrical 
 grossness, although the degree of criminality, in the 
 eye of God, and of man, (if he thinks justly,) is deeper, 
 will be able to gloze and excuse itself in society ; while
 
 213 
 
 the wretched, but not more guilty victim of a single vice, 
 is loathed and discarded. It is not without habitual 
 reflection that we learn to repel that prejudice which 
 inclines us to deal more hardly with the vices of the 
 weak, than with those of the strong. The unbalanced 
 preponderance of a single appetite bespeaks the natu- 
 ral weakness of the mind, and fails not soon to induce 
 upon it a hideous decrepitude : but a well-propor- 
 tioned and equipoised sensuality indicates some force 
 of character ; and it is often garnished by a sort of 
 brute grace and alertness : we are disposed, there- 
 fore, in disregard of all justice, while we make the 
 one case an object of abhorrence, to bestow upon the 
 other an affected reprimand, in which there lurks a 
 spark of complacency. 
 
 P. 42. 
 
 THE BLUNDERER. 
 
 I have already had occasion to remark that, if we 
 wish to study the mechanism of the mind upon the 
 plan of actual induction, we must watch those in- 
 stances in which it is exposed to observation by the 
 defect, or the weakness, or the shrinking, or the yield- 
 ing of some of its higher faculties. A perfectly sound 
 mind is an unfit subject for analysis, unfit, merely 
 because difficult : the envelope is entire ; and in at-
 
 214 
 
 tempting dissection, we shall probably confound the 
 parts : the most intelligible denudations of character 
 are those that are performed by the hand of nature. 
 Of the thirty characters described by Theophrastus, 
 twenty are varieties of infirmity ; and therefore fur- 
 nish proper examples by which to illustrate the above- 
 named principle. In pointing out these instances as 
 being well suited to the objects of metaphysical exami- 
 nation, it must not be supposed that we are furnished 
 in the text of our author with sufficient materials of 
 study : we have here nothing more than concise 
 diagnostics ; well serving the purpose of specification, 
 and nothing more. In referring to them we can go 
 no further than to say, the individual who acts and 
 speaks thus, and thus, furnishes the proper subject in 
 which to find the facts belonging to this, or that par- 
 ticular branch of inquiry : I aim at little more in 
 these notes than to suggest hints of this sort. Thus 
 in the present instance 6 M Axoupo$ the Inopportune, 
 or the Blunderer, is one in whom may be observed the 
 several phenomena of simple intellection, ruled by sug- 
 gestions from without, and made prominent by high 
 excitability. The laws of involuntary thought are 
 exposed to observation here by the force and velo- 
 city of the movement, as in other cases by its feeble- 
 ness and slowness. The perceptions of the Blunderer 
 are false, because incomplete ; all his apprehensions 
 are defective; he never comprehends the actual 
 circumstances by which he is surrounded : his con-
 
 215 
 
 duct, therefore, being suggested instantaneously by 
 objects on one side of his position, has no suitable- 
 ness to those which stand upon the other side of it. 
 He is not more capable of profiting by experience, or 
 by instructions and admonitions, relative to certain 
 proprieties of behaviour, than a chicken, that must 
 be driven, with the same chastisements, through the 
 same gap in a fence, twenty times in a day: his impulses 
 are too simple to admit any concomitant recollection 
 of consequences. If, to the character of the Blunderer 
 be added some presumption, and a smack of conceit, 
 . instead of being an object of mirth, or merely 
 troublesome, he becomes a positive nuisance : such 
 is the character described in the twenty-first chapter, 
 6 'A^s the Disagreeable. 
 
 A power of fine, exact, perfected, and multifarious 
 perception is indicated by the delicate activity of 
 the muscles of the mouth ; while a torpid bulkiness 
 in the lips, usually declares the straitened, inert, or 
 perturbed state of this faculty. But let it always be 
 remembered that physiognomical rules of this sort 
 can never be employed, with safety, for the discrimi- 
 nation of character. Their only proper use is to fur- 
 nish clues in the selection of objects fit for the illus- 
 tration of particular branches of inquiry. For ex- 
 ample : with the aid of a rule, such as that given 
 above, the student would be prepared to watch the 
 conduct and manners of particular individuals, with 
 the specific design of detecting a certain element of
 
 216 
 
 character. The results of his observations would en- 
 able him to append to his rule the needful limitations 
 and exceptions ; and to make his subsequent obser- 
 vations more definite and intelligent. 
 
 P. 44. 
 
 THE BUSYBODY. 
 
 When the lovers of mystery, and of gratuitous 
 difficulty, have before them parallel columns of an 
 ancient inscription, the one consisting of unknown 
 hieroglyphics, the other expressed in a familiar 
 character, they must be permitted to place their 
 sleeve over the latter ; otherwise, they will not enjoy 
 the full gratification of deciphering the former. The 
 case is nearly the same with those who, after having 
 indiscreetly called themselves Phrenologists, confine 
 their attention to the obscurer and the less certain 
 symbols, when the plainer and the more constant are 
 within their reach. Need we, for example, grope 
 upon the skull of such a face as that of the Busybody^ 
 (XIV.), in order to discover, either the actual con- 
 dition, or the original dispositions of the mind ? It 
 may be affirmed, not only, that the facial indications 
 are more obvious and intelligible than those of the 
 cranium ; but that they are of a kind which enable us 
 to reason upward, from the present condition of the
 
 217 
 
 mind, to its original conformation, in a way that can 
 never be done from the permanent forms of the skull. 
 Here, as in the case of the Loquacious, the character 
 appears to be determined by the infirm irritability of 
 the nervous system, and the concomitant chemical 
 qualities of the several secretions. The sketch of the 
 Loquacious (VII. p. 25) indicates an irritability that 
 falls inward upon the imagination, giving velocity 
 to the current of thought, and therefore naturally 
 venting itself through the organs of speech. But the 
 outline p. 44 suggests the idea of that sort of irrita- 
 bility which pervades the animal system; agitating 
 the faculties of perception, creating a constant mus- 
 cular restlessness, and leaving the mind to be snatched 
 and driven from side to side, by every trivial impulse. 
 It is from this unballasted excitability that the inepti- 
 tude of the Busybody results. A constitution that is 
 incapable of repose, is incapable of efficient effort. 
 This is a law of mind of wide operation. To be ever 
 moving is the attribute, either of seraphic existence, or 
 of the whirling life of a gnat. Toman belongs the alter- 
 nation of action and of rest. A high rate of produc- 
 tive force is nourished by a passive power of inane 
 and prostrate torpor. Equable excitability can be 
 rescued from the peril of insanity, only by constitu- 
 tional and hopeless folly. 
 
 But the Busybody is also distinguished by the 
 indirectness, or the unsoundness of his motives. 
 Wherever the rate of excitability is such as to over-
 
 218 
 
 balance the force of the mind, the emotions are liable 
 to become either vapid or malign. A vapid officious- 
 ness, or unserviceable show of service in other men's 
 affairs, is, perhaps, the most frequent appearance of 
 this propensity in the male character ; while a med- 
 dling temper, turned bitter or sour, oftener belongs to 
 the female. 
 
 P. 4(>. 
 
 THE STUPID. 
 
 It might seem too much like an affected paradox 
 to affirm, that our first lessons in the knowledge of 
 human nature, intellectual and moral, as well as phy- 
 sical, ought to be drawn from the observation of in- 
 ferior animals ; and yet I believe that this principle, 
 freed from the taint of the fanciful analogies that it 
 has often been attempted to establish, must be laid at 
 the foundation of a better, and a strictly inductive 
 science of Mind. And this, not merely because the 
 science can never be complete until it comprehend the 
 knowledge of the inferior, as well as of the more per- 
 fect varieties of conscious being ; but chiefly, because 
 the universal laws of thought and emotion may be 
 studied with much less liability to confusion and error, 
 in their lower and simpler, than in their higher and 
 more perfect forms : as well as that, in this lower
 
 219 
 
 region, we are at the farthest remove from the intru- 
 sion of dialectical subtilties. The qualities of mind, 
 as they are displayed in the habits and propensities of 
 animals, can hardly be spoken of otherwise than in 
 the plain language proper to a narration of intelligible 
 facts ; and in a style which has no congruity with the 
 refinements of abstruse phraseology. 
 
 To attempt to trace resemblances or approximations 
 between animals, and men distinguished by the force or 
 grossness of their physical propensities, is mere com- 
 mon-place, very proper, perhaps, to furnish a figure 
 in an ethical essay, but wholly destitute of philosophi- 
 cal accuracy and significance. The case of the sen- 
 sualist seldom bears any strict analogy to instances 
 of brute indulgence of appetite : there may be much 
 dramatic resemblance ; but there is little actual simi- 
 larity. It is then that human nature seems to touch 
 upon the circle of the world of inferior beings, when 
 a deficiency in some one of the higher faculties simpli- 
 fies the machinery of mind, and at the same time ex- 
 poses the commoner elements to observation. I have 
 already noticed instances in which an effect of this 
 kind is produced by the infirmity or decay of the 
 principle of volition ; and thus also, if we meet with 
 instances in which the faculty of abstraction, for 
 example, is remarkably deficient, we shall find a con- 
 comitant strength and perfection, not of animal ap- 
 petites, but of certain unreasoned impulses, having 
 many of the characteristics of pure instinct. In the 
 
 Theopk. *
 
 220 
 
 predilections of such a person, in his antipathies, and 
 in the blind and constant pursuit of objects that 
 would never be sought after under the direction of 
 mere reason, we shall continually be reminded of the 
 imperturbable and infallible movements of animals ; 
 and this is not seldom observable in cases where the 
 rate of intelligence and of feeling is high. I have 
 seen more than one instance of this sort, in which the 
 best emotions of the heart, and the powers of combi- 
 nation, were of the finest kind. 
 
 The proper beauty of the female character seems 
 to depend, in great measure, upon what must not be 
 called a defect in the faculty of abstraction, but rather, 
 a graceful negation. To man belongs the power of 
 holding in separation the closest associations of 
 thought, of analysing all that is complex in his con- 
 sciousness, of forming recombinations without limit, 
 and of producing, by an artificial effort, a perfect dis- 
 ruption of the firmest links of habit and of feeling. 
 But in the exercise of this faculty he is exposed to 
 great moral and intellectual perils : his safety, amidst 
 these hazardous excursions of thought, lies in his 
 willingness to listen to that voice of constant and 
 unreasoning wisdom which nature has placed by his 
 side ; and which, in order that it might, by all means, 
 gain influence, has been invested with sovereign love- 
 liness. Happy and wise is he, who, while he wan- 
 ders in the region of speculation as he may, regards 
 with respect the better taught suggestions of woman.
 
 221 
 
 By the faculty of abstraction, man is qualified to re- 
 form and improve his lot ; but woman, because she 
 has this faculty in a lower degree, is fitted to hold, in 
 permanence and consistence, what is already good 
 and wholesome and worthy in that lot. A companion 
 meet for him who thinks, is not a spirit of the same 
 order ; but a woman whose reasoning is all intuitive ; 
 whose affections are warmly and securely wrapt in the 
 kind and right prejudices of the heart ; and whose 
 manners are ornately incrusted with domestic instincts. 
 These instincts, such, for example, as an attachment 
 to places and things, endeared by long-standing asso- 
 ciations, a fond adherence to home usages, a su- 
 perstitious reverence for all the pure and respectful 
 decencies of near intercourse, and a punctilious regard 
 to order and cleanliness, are not, it is true, themselves, 
 the first elements of happiness ; but they are its indis- 
 pensable, and most certain preservatives. This di- 
 gression may seem out of place ; yet it is connected 
 with the observation, that useful instincts are rarely 
 associated with a full developement of the powers of 
 abstraction. 
 
 Again ; if the power of complex simultaneous per- 
 ception, by which, through the organs of sense, the 
 mind is kept on every side in perfect contact with 
 the external world, be obstructed, or deficient, the man- 
 ners of the individual, and his ill-directed movements, 
 will suggest the same sort of comparison between him- 
 self and other men, which is often made between man
 
 222 
 
 and animals; when, from the want of this power of 
 complex perception, the much more perfect senses of 
 animals avail them less than the very inferior senses of 
 man. The brute has greatly the advantage, when fine 
 and perfect perceptions of one kind are required ; but 
 man is immeasurably superior to the brute wherever 
 several perceptions are to be entertained and compared 
 at the same instant. Thus also, in things perfectly 
 simple, it often happens that the stupid, the inept, or 
 the half-idiot has greatly the advantage over his in- 
 tellectual superiors ; while in things complex he is 
 utterly bewildered. These analogies might be pur- 
 sued through cases of defect in all the higher faculties ; 
 and, in a systematic study of the mind, it would be 
 necessary so to pursue them. Instances of this kind 
 are breaches in the munition, through which we may 
 force our way into the citadel of Mind. 
 
 In the business of education it is often of great im- 
 portance rightly to distinguish among cases of seeming 
 intellectual deficiency. It is very true in education, 
 as well as in medicine, that, when nature may be 
 helped, she will, almost always, best help herself; yet 
 the parent or teacher would wish that the tendency of 
 his efforts should rather be in coincidence with, than 
 in contravention of the sanative operations of nature. 
 For this purpose it is necessary that we attribute the 
 apparent want of mind to its true cause. 
 
 There are cases of early stupidity that are far more 
 hopeful than any case of precocity can ever be : mon-
 
 223 
 
 strous infantile intelligence is always the effect of 
 some morbid determination in the system, threaten- 
 ing its dissolution. Without pretending to great pre- 
 cision, the most usual cases of apparent stupidity in 
 children may be distributed into three classes : the 
 first, comprehending those which arise from the non- 
 developement of faculties : the second, those attri- 
 butable to a diseased or relaxed condition of the 
 system ; and the third, cases of hopeless and original 
 deficiency or obstruction in the organ of thought. Of 
 these three classes, the first, and the third, are the 
 most likely to be confounded : to attempt to discri- 
 minate between them by the aid of physiognomical or 
 craniological rules, would be, in the present state of 
 these pretended sciences, absurd and hazardous. 
 Where dulness of apprehension, or apparent torpor 
 of the mind, is precursive to the developement of ex- 
 traordinary faculties, the real nature of the case 
 will, generally, be indicated by an occasional display 
 of vigour of volition, directed, neither towards the 
 gratification of animal appetites, nor of the vindictive 
 passions; but spent upon some object which, to other 
 children, would be utterly steril of pleasure or amuse- 
 ment : hopeless stupidity seldom exhibits any such 
 perplexing incongruities of conduct. Cases of the 
 second class are more easily known by physical in- 
 dications ; and they require the use of physical means 
 for their remedy. If constitutional excitability is so 
 great as to be always bordering upon hysteric agita-
 
 224 
 
 tions, and to render, even the shortest continued 
 effort of attention impossible, or if the languor of 
 the constitution is such, that the system is prostrated 
 by the slightest mental exertion, it is not the tutor, 
 but the experienced mother, who must administer such 
 aid as the case admits. To require bodily labours 
 and exercises from a cripple, is not a greater barba- 
 rity, than to force intellectual efforts upon a child, in 
 whom the organ of thought is malformed or diseased. 
 The object of education is not to bring all minds up to 
 a certain standard ; but to do the best that nature 
 permits, with each individual, separately. If the too 
 zealous teacher could actually inspect the mecha- 
 nism of thought, he would shudder to behold the tor- 
 turing and destructive orgasms occasioned in a feeble 
 system by ill-judged exactions. 
 
 P. 48. 
 
 THE MOROSE. 
 
 Facts would never lead to the belief that the physi- 
 ognomical indications of the intellectual character are 
 nothing more than effects gradually produced by cer- 
 tain habits of action in the facial muscles. But in the 
 physiognomical indication of the emotions, there are 
 much stronger appearances of this sort of causation. 
 For example : the face of one who is every hour
 
 225 
 
 hurling wrath and curses upon his fellows, and fling- 
 ing defiances to heaven, seems, in great measure, to 
 have become what it is by the frequent repetition of 
 certain violent movements. 
 
 If the head, p. 48, be compared with that of this 
 sleeping female infant, the contrast is as great as can 
 be imagined : the one displays a greedy malignant 
 vindictiveness : in the other, all is bland and tran- 
 quil innocence : and yet, if this babe were suddenly 
 wakened by a pang of hunger, and for a few mo- 
 ments withheld from the soft source of its aliment, 
 we should behold a perfect resemblance, in miniature, 
 of the same wrathful violence : each petty feature 
 would seem wracked with the desire of vengeance, 
 and writhing under a conscious inability to retaliate
 
 226 
 
 wrong for wrong. Nor would it be difficult to antici- 
 pate, in imaginaton, the effects to be produced upon 
 the muscles, the complexion, and the integuments, by 
 twenty or thirty thousand repetitions of the same 
 movements. But after we have attributed the utmost 
 that facts allow us to attribute to this sort of causa- 
 tion, we are far from having satisfactorily explained 
 the whole of the physiognomical indications which 
 such a face exhibits. In the head of the Morose we 
 cannot assign to the influence of repeated action, 
 either the stunted nasal bone; or the wide-planted 
 nostril ; or the dense-framed and knotted forehead ; 
 or the slim lips; or the small, well-enamelled, and 
 compacted teeth ; or the gnarled ear ; or the eye, 
 with its minute pupil, and its iris, showing the omi- 
 nous grey of a turbid sea ; or the dry, scanty, and friz- 
 zled hair ; these are indications of character, older 
 in their origin than the earliest habits.
 
 227 
 
 This sketch presents a variety of the same temper : 
 its symbols are those of objurgative eloquence : a full 
 current of thought, and a flow of language of equal 
 depth and velocity, afford always a copious supply of 
 pungent phrases, at the instigation of the vindictive 
 passions. But in this example the domination of the 
 ruling emotion is not ordinarily so single and over- 
 powering as to preclude the easy play and graceful 
 evolution of the faculties of wit and reason. He who 
 dares to obstruct the will of this wilful and irritable 
 personage, exposes himself, not to a hurricane of 
 wrath, but to a hail-storm of sarcasm. The irony of 
 this fierce jester strikes its victim with a point and 
 quickness, like the glancing of his eye ; and it comes 
 as if loaded with all the weight of his bulky form. 
 Amid the trivial and unexciting vexations of domestic 
 life, this man is implacably morose : but under the 
 irritation of an injury that is great enough to kindle 
 all the soul, his ire works itself off in pleasantness : 
 let him alone, and the turbulence of indignation will 
 end in a dance of savage mirth. A Bison spirit of 
 this sort may be a very amusing thing to be seen 
 through a grating ; but it is a most horrible creature 
 to live with in a parlour. 
 
 Theoph,
 
 228 
 
 P. 50. 
 
 THE SUPERSTITIOUS. 
 
 The Enthusiast wooes his Genius : the Supersti- 
 tious cringes to his Demon. When either Fear or 
 Hope is exalted by a prodigious imagination, un- 
 taught by true religion, and unchecked by the spirit 
 of science, it will leave no region of nature, no phy- 
 sical energy, no fortuity, no familiar object, destitute 
 of associations with invisible power. He who is 
 ruled by the illusions of hope, fancies that he sees 
 celestial tutelage in the morning mist; and Para- 
 dise in all that the sun shines upon : while the 
 victim of fear beholds a portent of death in every 
 shadow. 
 
 It must be granted that the Enthusiast and the Su- 
 perstitious, though they may, in many respects, be 
 contrasted, have an element of character in common : 
 and, to use familiar terms, we should say, that the 
 point of similarity in the two minds was the pre- 
 ponderance of the imagination. It might, therefore, 
 seem reasonable to suppose, that we should find some 
 obvious similarity in the exterior symbols of the two 
 characters. All the observations I have had opportu-
 
 229 
 
 nity to make, incline me to doubt if any such point 
 of similarity is, in fact, to be found. The two minds 
 are, indeed, distinguished by the vivid and copious 
 production of unreal associations ; but the heads will 
 appear to have been moulded by influences that have 
 no alliance or analogy. In the one case, that of the 
 Superstitious, the general feebleness and coldness 
 of the constitution will seem to have allowed to 
 the cerebrum, a bulging protuberance of form, in the 
 loose contour of which all lesser indications are lost : 
 while, in the head of the Enthusiast, a more vigorous 
 and excitable temperament appears to have given a 
 firm architectural precision to the figure of the skull, 
 and yet with the same disregard of minor symbols. 
 
 But let us open our eyes to the light that has 
 lately been poured upon the science of human nature 
 by those who have taught us that, imagination is 
 not imagination, but IMAGINATIVENESS; and that 
 the power of recalling or of recombining ideas is, 
 IDEALITY. I say, under this guidance, in spite of 
 the difficulties to which I have here adverted, we shall 
 be able to pick from a crowd of persons, at dis- 
 cretion, either the Enthusiast, or the Superstitious : 
 for both of them, having the biform organ of Imagi- 
 nativeness, will have foreheads bulging at the cor- 
 ners like the bows of a Dutch Indiaman. Where 
 we are to seek for the indication of the very essential 
 difference between the two minds, I am not suffi- 
 ciently versed in the system to be able to determine.
 
 230 
 
 But what should we say if we were to meet with a 
 case of eminent Imaginativeness, of that class, for 
 example, in which the current of thought is evidently 
 ruled by the suggestions of fear, which, instead of 
 being indicated, as it ought, by two walnut-like pro- 
 tuberances, just over the temples, is, in fact, sym- 
 bolised by an impending frontal mass that usurps the 
 localities of some score of neighbour organs? Every 
 one knows, indeed, that the Imagination is a bold 
 faculty; but that it should be an invader of medullary 
 freeholds to this extent, almost surpasses belief. 
 
 By the latest and the best authorities, we are in- 
 formed that, in the interval between the eye-brows 
 and the insertion of the hair, twelve or fifteen distinct 
 elements of mind, like so many petty feudal lords, 
 cooped up between a forest and a marsh, have 
 ' a local habitation and a name ;' where, fenced about 
 by impassable, though imaginary partitions, they 
 maintain their state ; and whence, in proportion to 
 their several forces, not being able to elbow space 
 for themselves laterally, they impatiently drive bone 
 before them, and obtrude their violence upon the su- 
 perficies. If it be indeed true, that a symbolic chart 
 of the human head must be as thick set with divisions, 
 and as intricate, as a map of Germany ; and that the 
 entire surface, from ear to ear, is claimed by a clus- 
 tering host of Dignities, Powers, Energies, Faculties, 
 Functions, &c., it seems not less true, that what 
 commonly takes place in politics, commonly takes
 
 231 
 
 place, also, in phrenology ; namely ; that the stronger 
 powers are wont to drive the weaker from their 
 patrimonies. If this be the fact, it will be very ne- 
 cessary to remember, that what might be laid down 
 as an ideal phrenological topograph, duly numbered 
 and lettered, will yield us as little information rela- 
 tive to the site of particular organs in any individual 
 head, as we should gain from one of D'Anville's maps 
 in Caesar's Commentaries, if we wished to understand 
 the present boundaries of the Electoral states : it is a 
 map of the country ; but not a map of its actual occu- 
 pation. 
 
 The strength and quality of those prevailing emo- 
 tions, which often, from the same intellectual ele- 
 ments, produce the widest varieties of character, are 
 usually manifested, with little obscurity, in the lower 
 part of the face. In the head, (XVII. p. 50.) the 
 projecting and infirmly-built forehead declares a mor- 
 bid preponderance of the imagination. The direction 
 actually given to this excrescent faculty is indicated 
 in the forms and expression of the features beneath, 
 which seem as if staggering under the impending mass 
 above. That mouth is incapable of expressing, either 
 the excitation of hope, or the energy of despair : it 
 is fit only for the gaspings of abject fear. If I were 
 to allow myself the careless expression of fanciful 
 assertions, I might say that the hair of this head 
 indicates a mind rich in melancholy associations ; 
 and, at the same time, greatly debilitated by the damp
 
 232 
 
 and chilly atmosphere of the sepulchral regions 
 which are its constant haunt. The head of the Super- 
 stitious may be compared with that beneath, of the 
 Enthusiast.
 
 233 
 P. 53. 
 
 THE PETULANT. 
 
 ' Omne infirmum, naturu querulum.' Nature has 
 armed many of the smaller and weaker animals with a 
 petulant vindictiveness of temper that makes them for- 
 midable, even to their superiors in bulk and strength : 
 there are analogous cases of human character, in 
 which the means of defence or aggression, the bad 
 motive, and the force, are all so well proportioned to 
 each other, that the petty feline being is much oftener 
 the object of dread, than the victim of oppression. 
 But it is not a case of this kind that we have here 
 before us. The Character as described by our author, 
 and as depicted in the sketch (XVIII. p. 53.) seems to 
 be one of those most unhappy persons who possess 
 gastric acrimony enough to keep a very high rate of 
 intellectual and animal energy in constant activity ; 
 while the actual force of the constitution is so small, 
 that this hot spring of acerbity is pent up in the 
 system, without employment or means of exhaustion. 
 Here, it corrodes every faculty, frets away the spring 
 of life, and taints the breath of speech with a pesti- 
 lent feculence. 
 
 There is much advantage in understanding the pri- 
 mary physical causes of our own ill tempers, or of 
 those of our constant companions : of the latter,
 
 234 
 
 because we shall thereby be the better disposed to 
 exercise a wise forbearance towards the unhappy 
 subjects of this sort of malign possession ; and also 
 gain skill in the management of the disease. Or if 
 the case be our own, such a knowledge of its nature 
 will greatly tend to dissipate those irritating illusions 
 which are the unreal, and yet, in most instances, the 
 only real objects of splenetic disquietudes. Under 
 the influence of such an acquaintance with our phy- 
 sical constitution, we shall learn to whisper to our- 
 selves, ' This is my infirmity ; let me make as little 
 show of the feebleness of my nature as may be ;' we 
 shall be induced to defer, for an hour, the expression 
 of our discontent, (and the delay of gratification is 
 often all that wisdom demands,) when we know that 
 a stomach-full of bland aliment will remove from our 
 view much, df not the whole of the blackness of the 
 offence under which we are suffering. When better 
 motives fail us, considerations such as these may 
 often avail to repress, at least the expression of evil 
 tempers ; and thus preserve the atmosphere of home 
 from the taint of the most deleterious of all the gases, 
 the breath of strife. The gastric acrimony of an 
 infirm constitution is more tolerable when it vents 
 itself in instantaneous flashes of wrath, than when it 
 works inwardly, producing harboured, malignant 
 surmisings : out of the heart, when thus envenomed, 
 come murders, envyings, backbitings, seditions, and 
 every evil work.
 
 2.35 
 P. 55. 
 
 THE SUSPICIOUS. 
 
 This temper is akin to the last: suspicion usually 
 results from the union of chronic fear and super- 
 abounding acrimony. I am not willing to affirm that 
 every disorder of the moral powers has its origin in 
 some intellectual defect ; nor even that a correlative 
 intellectual defect is a constant concomitant of a dis- 
 eased state of the affections, or the moral habits. And 
 yet, some qualified and guarded statement of this sort 
 might be supported by a multiplicity of facts. We 
 may take an example from one of the lighter vices of 
 the mind : thus, if one whose whole conduct is ruled by 
 groundless alarms, or false surmises, could be induced 
 to reason justly in each instance, the preponderating 
 motive, how strong soever it might be, would be coun- 
 terpoised, and its influence gradually destroyed. But 
 though, in single instances, such a man may be aided, 
 or urged to carry on that necessary process of reason- 
 ing which would contravene the blind impulse ; yet, 
 as this aid or urgency is not ordinarily at hand, the 
 decrepit intellect learns to yield to the constitutional 
 motive ; and reason is at length irremediably impaired 
 by the habit of looking out passively upon glaring ab- 
 surdities of conduct. If, in such a mind, the intellec- 
 tual powers are ever called upon to take a more active 
 
 Theoph. t.
 
 230 
 
 part, it is when the propriety of some point of conduct 
 happens to be called in question : reason is then roused 
 to become the ingenious and pertinacious apologist 
 of actions that affront common sense. But we can 
 never permit common sense to be insulted, without 
 inflicting a lasting injury upon the understanding. 
 Those minor absurdities of the daily life by which 
 petty wishes are gratified, or by which groundless 
 fears or groundless suspicions are appeased, are 
 therefore to be avoided, not merely because they tend 
 to cover the character with ridicule ; but because they 
 are excrescences, by nourishing of which, Reason is 
 enfeebled. There are, perhaps, few individuals to be 
 found whose domestic conduct is entirely free from 
 some such unreasonable and inexplicable habits. 
 Happily, neither the course of human affairs at large, 
 nor private interests, are much under the direction of 
 individual minds : it is the common sense of mankind 
 in the mass, by which men, singly, are governed. The 
 mere impulse of imitation, and the sway of social prin- 
 ciples, operate to remedy the perversities and absurdi- 
 ties of individual minds. If the conduct of individuals 
 were strictly individual, it is hard to imagine the spec- 
 tacle of fantastic incongruity which the world would 
 exhibit. For such, in the majority of instances, is the 
 condition of human nature, that reason, instead of 
 boldly swaying the life, ventures to creep abroad only 
 in those rare moments, when every imperious passion, 
 and every lordly impulse, great and small, and every
 
 237 
 
 strong, and every feeble prejudice, is slumbering. 
 Whoever is conscious that his decisions, in matters 
 of conduct, constantly, or usually, fall into one and 
 the same track, and are conformed to any one. order 
 of ideas, may be assured that, with him, reason is 
 the mere drudge of some constitutional propensity. 
 Reason, it is true, leads blind impulse by the hand ; 
 but it is blind impulse that actually commands the 
 course. 
 
 P. 57. 
 
 THE FILTHY. 
 
 Strange as it may seem, it is true, that there are 
 beings to be found who, far from resting in the direct 
 gratification of animal appetites, revel, with a lively 
 zest, among all the things that are most foul and loath- 
 some in the sad conditions of our earthly nature. Sen- 
 suality , force of temper, inertness, obtundity of per- 
 ception, personal idolatry, and the destitution of the 
 higher and better emotions of humanity, are the ingre- 
 dients of a constitution of this order. 
 
 Filth, and the Slavery of Woman, go together as the 
 concomitants of brutal degradations of human na- 
 ture. To Woman is entrusted the preservation of the 
 dignity of Man : if she be degraded, he wallows in 
 dishonour. Her duty and her interests require, that
 
 238 
 
 she be the strict, if not the stern censor of manners ; 
 and so far as it may be done without prudery, and 
 without affectation, it is her part to disguise all the 
 circumstances of animal life by the elevation of her 
 sentiments, or the adornments of her fancy. The do- 
 mestic life touches closely, at many points, upon the 
 less noble conditions of our physical existence ; but 
 woman, placed, as she is, in the very centre of this 
 sphere, is endowed with purities of feeling, and graces 
 of action, that enable her to redeem these humbling 
 circumstances of our nature from disgust. "Woman, 
 then, is not a Sylph the object of heartless and sen- 
 sual idolatry ; but the active steward of man's mixed 
 ceconomy, a graceful mediatrix between mind and 
 matter. It is from these hands that man is to receive 
 the goods of sense, by these hands that the ills of 
 the body are to be assuaged : and as the office cannot 
 confer honour upon the performer, the performer must 
 be such as shall shed lustre upon the office. So 
 long as woman is true to her duty, man is kept 
 in alliance with the higher world of being ; and she, 
 as his companion, shares fully in the benefit. Neither 
 poverty, nor sickness, nor age can despoil her of this, 
 her true honour, and only practicable happiness : 
 nothing can take it from her ; unless, forgetful of her- 
 self, she permits the invasion of grossness, impurity, 
 or disorder.
 
 239 
 P. 61. 
 
 THE VAIN. 
 
 Perfection of character results from the union of 
 the power of complex intellection, with habitual sim- 
 plicity of motive. If a mind capable of carrying on, 
 simultaneously, complex intellectual operations, is 
 also liable to intricacies, combinations, and counter- 
 actions among its impulses, the result is likely to be 
 knavery, mischief, intrigue, caprice, or inept versati- 
 lity. Minds not capable of complex simultaneous 
 intellection, and yet subject to some constant dupli- 
 city or triplicity of motive, will come under the class 
 of those who make themselves troublesome or ridicu- 
 lous, by their blundering interferences, their ill-timed 
 explanations, their needless apologies, their unso- 
 licited cautions, their sagacious intimations, their 
 learned prosings, their vanity, egotism, ostentation, 
 or foppishness. The characteristic mark of all minds 
 of this class is, that they are never seen to act or 
 speak under the primary and proper motive that be- 
 longs to the occasion ; but always under some impulse 
 of fourth or fifth-rate importance : nor will it ever be 
 found possible to bring a great motive to the focus of 
 their vision. While you are labouring to place strong 
 reasons and right feelings before a man of this sort, 
 he will be fixing his eye upon a mote or a midge ; and
 
 -240 
 
 will that be the object of his pursuit. Where simpli- 
 city of intellection and simplicity of motive are con- 
 joined, the result will be one of those varieties of cha- 
 racter of which perennial infancy is the common mark : 
 some cases of this sort I have already had occasion 
 to point out. 
 
 There is a particular species of vanity, more ap- 
 propriately called conceit, which results from the 
 ready and perfect command of very limited faculties, 
 and very superficial emotions. Characters of this 
 sort are miniature models of human nature, which 
 work so pleasantly, that they are, altogether, the most 
 amusing things one can look at. Craft and apathy, 
 added to this kind of vanity, form the peculiar na- 
 tional character of the Chinese. The head beneath, 
 beside its Tartar character, is the very image of craft, 
 apathy, vanity, and trivial sentiment.
 
 241 
 
 P. 69. 
 
 THE PROUD. 
 
 A phrase of great significance is employed by 
 St. James, ev Trpatrnj-n <ro<J>/aj in meekness of wisdom. 
 There is a meekness that is the effect of natural sweet- 
 ness and kindness of temper: there is a meekness 
 that is produced by the continued influence of Chris-
 
 L>42 
 
 tian principle ; and there is a meekness, emphatically 
 called, the ' meekness of wisdom :' it forms the dis- 
 tinction of the highest order of intelligence, and re- 
 sults immediately from the wide comprehension of 
 the soul. Minds that are stored, in detail, or in abs- 
 tract, with the sum of human knowledge, that tra- 
 verse with frequent and familiar step the boundaries 
 of the fields of Science, and that, by being accustomed 
 to trace with precision the line that divides the known 
 from the unknown, estimate justly the vast dispropor- 
 tion between the former and the latter, insensibly im- 
 bibe their governing intellectual sentiments, not from 
 the consciousness of the things they know, but from 
 their constant recollection of that impending universe 
 which is hidden from mortal vision : they are, there- 
 fore, apt to assume the meek, docile, and abashed 
 temper of a thoughtful child, who perceives that he is 
 surrounded, on every side, by superior intelligence, 
 and superior power. Such are not the sentiments of 
 those who are resolved to see and to be conversant 
 with no other world than that of which they can fancy 
 themselves to be the centre. But this sort of self- 
 deification is not practicable, unless the illusion on 
 which it rests be favoured and protected by an origi- 
 nal narrowness and rigidity of the intellect, such as 
 renders enlargement of view, and expansion of thought 
 physically impossible. If the proud or arrogant man 
 could, for a moment, view things above him, and 
 around him, as they are, and if he could once read his
 
 243 
 
 own rank upon the scale of universal being, his 
 utmost efforts would never avail to re-inflate the 
 preposterous bubble of self-love. 
 
 The term Pride is too indefinite to be assumed as 
 the designation of a distinct class of character. Sen- 
 timents and emotions that, for practical purposes, are, 
 with great propriety, treated of by the theologian and 
 the moralist as homogeneous, almost always require 
 to be analysed with more exactness by the metaphy- 
 sician and the physiologist. Thus, for example, the 
 pride of rude and unintelligent force, the pride of 
 sensitive feebleness, the pride of strenuous will, 
 the pride of pure malignity, are varieties of character 
 that differ essentially in their elements ; and will be 
 found to differ as widely in their external symbols. 
 
 P. 71. 
 
 THE FEARFUL. 
 
 Reason is an unfit remedy for alarms that spring 
 from the poverty of the animal system. The more the 
 Coward reasons, the more he quakes : when danger 
 must be met, the best course he can take is to leave 
 reason and imagination behind, by a reckless leap 
 into ' the very midst of things.' The only remedy 
 that can be applied to the mind, is that which 
 
 Theoph. K
 
 244 
 
 is furnished by habit, and familiarity with danger. 
 But it is the body that is chiefly in fault; and it 
 should be corroborated by ample and generous diet, 
 and a full measure of exercise in the open air. In the 
 early cure of physical timidity, the different consti- 
 tution and circumstances of the sexes must be ob- 
 served : the fears of a girl may, with propriety, be 
 allayed by reasoning; because it is not desirable, 
 nor indeed possible, if it were desirable, to give 
 hardy insensibility to the body; and also because 
 the perils to which women are ordinarily exposed, 
 more often allow of some recurrence to reason ; and 
 demand calm recollection, rather than force, or en- 
 terprise: but the fears of a boy ought never to re- 
 ceive so much attention and respect. Every mo- 
 tive of shame, every prudent familiarising with 
 danger, and every physical corroboration, should 
 be employed to conquer a defect which, so far as 
 it prevails, renders a man miserable, contemptible, 
 and useless. 
 
 P. 76. 
 
 THE DETRACTOR. 
 
 There are two suppositions relative to the interac- 
 tion of mind and body, either of which might have 
 some influence in checking the indulgence of malig- 
 nant propensities. The one is, that the vice of the
 
 245 
 
 mind is the first cause of that concomitant derange- 
 ment of the animal system by which it is usually in- 
 dicated ; and that every act of indulgence diffuses a 
 poison which operates as certainly and as destruc- 
 tively upon the functions of life, as any deleterious 
 chemical agent. The other supposition is, that the 
 vice of the mind is primarily occasioned by a consti- 
 tutional derangement of some of the secreting organs ; 
 so that the vicious propensity of the mind is, pro- 
 perly, a symptom of the morbid condition of the body. 
 Whichever may be the first cause, it is very evident, 
 that there is always much re-action and intercausation 
 in every unhappy instance of this kind ; and on either 
 supposition it is matter of fact, that the remedy of the 
 evil is, in a great degree, within the power of the 
 mind, by habitual corrective efforts : these efforts, 
 resting as they ought, primarily, upon moral consider- 
 ations, might be well aided by the knowledge and 
 constant recollection of those unfavourable physical 
 influences to which the mind is exposed. He who 
 allows a vindictive remembrance of an injury, or an 
 envious regard of another's prosperity, to shed venom 
 through the turgid liver, or to wrack the intestines 
 with scalding acrimony, sins against that first law of 
 nature, the impulse of self-preservation. It may be, 
 that some spasmodic obstruction in the hepatic 
 vessels, or that some half-putrescent crassity, of 
 which the stomach cannot relieve itself, crowds the 
 brain with images of evil, and oppresses the heart with
 
 246 
 
 emotions of hatred : in such a case, it behoves a wise 
 man to be aware of the misfortune of his constitution, 
 and not to suffer the higher faculties of his nature to 
 be obscured and infected by these fumes from the 
 disordered laboratory of the body. 
 
 P. 78. 81. 
 
 THE OLIGARCH. THE MALIGNANT. 
 
 The pride of feebleness, or the pride of force, deter- 
 mines the party of those who choose opinions under 
 the guidance of temper : the former influence pro- 
 duces the haughty assertor of exclusive privileges ; 
 the latter, inspires the public zeal of the turbulent 
 demagogue. A Natural History of opinions would 
 have quite as much to do with the physical diversities 
 of human nature, as with the logical relations and 
 dependencies of abstract propositions. Under chan- 
 ging names, and liable to the varieties of national 
 character and institutions, all civilized societies have 
 been divided into three, four, or five great parties, 
 corresponding to the leading tendencies of the human 
 mind. It is a subject worthy of the labour it would 
 cost, to pass through the history of mankind, with the 
 view to trace and exhibit the identity of these standing 
 varieties of opinion, to note the peculiarities which
 
 247 
 
 have attended the partition of prevailing systems of 
 science, or of religious belief, into sects ; and then, by 
 the observation of individual cases around us, to mark 
 those diversities of influence under which opinions 
 are sometimes the perfect representatives of temper, 
 and sometimes the discordant product of temper, 
 education, professional pursuits, or worldly interest. 
 Such an inquiry would be amply rewarded, if it only 
 served to establish and to exhibit in a strong light, two 
 remarkable and highly significant facts, belonging to 
 the history of Christianity, namely, That, while this 
 system, owing to its having within itself a vigour and 
 a life which nothing but truth can impart, has always 
 presented a strongly marked expression of the great 
 standing varieties of human opinion; it has, at the 
 same time, exhibited, (wherever its records have been 
 familiarly known by the common people) a sovereign 
 uniformity of influence upon manners, morals, and 
 intellectual improvement. Under the Polytheism of 
 Greece and Rome, sects were almost entirely con- 
 fined to the educated class ; because the system had 
 not enough moral influence to urge the mass of the 
 people into those diversities of opinion that result 
 from ill-directed speculation. In the Mahomedan 
 world, where the influence of the system was strong 
 enough, and sufficiently popular in its nature, for this 
 purpose, the sects that have arisen have always been 
 connected with political changes : they have had the 
 character of family feuds, and might appropriately
 
 248 
 
 be called, patriarchal heresies ; because fanaticism, 
 which is the grand impulse of this false system, will 
 always, if possible, ally itself with political or per- 
 sonal feelings, rather than with purely abstract prin- 
 ciples.
 
 249 
 
 GENERAL REMARKS ON THE STUDY OF HUMAN 
 NATURE. 
 
 GRATUITOUS hypothesis and presumptuous em- 
 piricism have now long been banished from the physi- 
 cal sciences. What is imperfectly known, is spoken 
 of as imperfectly known ; and even what is known, is 
 not advanced without a circumspect reference to its 
 possible connection with facts that are yet unex- 
 plained. In all those inquiries which have for their 
 objects the laws of the material world, the spirit of 
 caution triumphs over the spirit of adventure. But 
 a very remarkable contrast must strike every one 
 who compares the present state of the physical 
 sciences, with that of the philosophy of the human 
 mind. For while, on the one hand, those who stand 
 forward as the qualified and acknowledged teachers 
 of the science have, as it seems, from the dread of 
 appearing to stand on the ground of vague hypothesis, 
 deserted the more interesting departments of the study, 
 and retreated to a barren spot, from which their 
 utmost toils can produce nothing but a small number 
 of meagre abstractions ; less scrupulous adven- 
 turers are rioting in a wide region of unclaimed 
 wealth, and are actually gaining attention to systems
 
 250 
 
 that might well have suited the days of alchymy and 
 magic. That mass of facts, relating to the human 
 mind, which one set of inquirers has abandoned, fur- 
 nishes to another the means of supporting the most 
 preposterous pretensions. It is strange, and yet true 
 that, in these days of philosophical scepticism, theo- 
 ries of human nature are promulged, and maintained, 
 and favourably received, which stand in direct oppo- 
 sition to the spirit of modern science, and to all its 
 acknowledged rules of procedure. 
 
 Many causes might be assigned for the explanation 
 of this anomaly in the world of science. One or two 
 of these causes I propose to mention, which, though 
 they may be obvious enough, are perhaps not 
 duly considered. The chief of them is inseparable 
 from the subject, and demands a change in our 
 methods of study. 
 
 The physical sciences have for their objects uni- 
 versal or generic facts ; and they advance by gradually 
 assigning individual facts to previously formed classes : 
 they have to do only with classes of bodies, or classes 
 of facts. The business of the student in these sciences 
 is to enumerate and to arrange those resemblances 
 and differences, those connections and consequences, 
 observable in the material world, which, by being 
 more or less uniform, are susceptible of classification ; 
 and which, by being more or less constant, suggest the 
 induction of general laws. The physical sciences go 
 no further than to the boundary where classification
 
 251 
 
 and generalization cease to furnish aid. But the 
 knowledge of human nature is the knowledge of a 
 single species, of which the individual diversities, 
 while they are of the highest significance, and while 
 they constitute the chief matters of observation, are 
 wholly incapable of being brought under the ordinary 
 methods of classification. Of the entire mass of 
 facts that belong to the science of human nature, by 
 far the greater number, and those which are the most 
 worthy of philosophical explication, and the most 
 practically important, instead of being constant or 
 uniform, or frequently recurring in similar combina- 
 tions, are diversified in as great variety as there are 
 individual instances. It is evident, then, that a spe- 
 cial modification of the methods of the inductive phi- 
 losophy, adapted to the peculiarity of the case, must 
 be framed and applied, before these individual diver- 
 sities can be brought within the circle of regular 
 science. 
 
 Those differences in disposition, power, habits, 
 and external form, that distinguish man from man, 
 are often wider, as well as more significant and im- 
 portant, than those which separate the several species 
 of inferior animals. These diversities would long 
 ago have been included within the forms of science, if, 
 upon any known and familiar principle of generaliza- 
 tion, the immeasurable and seemingly chaotic mass 
 of particular facts could have been reduced to order ; 
 or if the true clue to the explication and arrange- 
 
 Theoph. N
 
 252 
 
 ment of these individual diversities had been sought 
 for, and found. That it has not yet been found, is 
 apparent : that it has ever been expressly sought for, 
 the records of philosophy do not declare. 
 
 Minds cannot be sorted into orders and families 
 without a manifest violence to each case that is so 
 disposed of. Here we have no longer to do with 
 Genera and Species ; or with uniform combinations of 
 known elements ; or with the constant recurrence of 
 the same antecedents and consequents. If gene- 
 ral laws are inferred from a few apparently uni- 
 form instances, they are contradicted by innumerable 
 exceptions ; and the labours of the closet in system- 
 making are deranged by one hour's actual converse 
 with the world. The accustomed means and faculties 
 of science are baffled on this peculiar ground ; its 
 wonted instruments are found inapplicable to the 
 anomalous work ; and it has turned aside from the 
 hopeless toil, satisfied with briefly notifying some of 
 the more simple and universal facts that have pre- 
 sented themselves in front of the confused mass. 
 
 To enumerate in a neat and unexceptionable phra- 
 seology, some half-dozen truisms, affectedly termed, 
 * the ultimate laws of mind/ to illustrate these 
 ' laws ' by scattered references to individual facts, 
 or by multiplied quotations from works of imagina- 
 tion, occasionally to extort an inference of some 
 seeming practical utility from these barren principles, 
 and to expose the futility of the metaphysical systems
 
 253 
 
 of former times ; this is the allotted task of those who 
 profess to teach all that is known of the most impor- 
 tant, the most noble, and the most copious of the 
 Sciences, the science of Mind. And so long as the 
 study of human nature is restricted by an adherence 
 to methods of study that are inapplicable to the 
 subject, and by a timid and scrupulous avoidance of 
 its physiological relations ; and so long, also, as that 
 spirit of good sense which prevails in other depart- 
 ments of science shall continue to prevent the return 
 of the idle metaphysical disquisitions of past ages, 
 Intellectual Philosophy can be nothing better than an 
 elaborate negation. And it is not without excessive 
 diffuseness of style, and the widest licence of digres- 
 sion, that such a system can assume a bulk which 
 may serve to disguise its real poverty, and to give 
 it an air of importance in the eye of the world : 
 nor have all the attractions of genius, aided by the 
 most exquisite ornaments of style, ever availed to 
 render this department of learning generally interest- 
 ing to men of sense. 
 
 In the mean time the builders of systems, especi- 
 ally those who advance to the study of the Mind on the 
 path of physiological inquiry, do not fail to cover the 
 space that has been abandoned to them, with every 
 form of grotesque absurdity. An inventive genius 
 will always find it easy to draw from the inexhaust- 
 ible volume of facts, connected with the indivi- 
 dual diversities of human nature, abundant materials
 
 254 
 
 for the construction, the embellishment, and the de- 
 fence of a theory. And, in fact, so luxuriant is this 
 hitherto uncultivated region, so copious are the 
 means which offer themselves to the speculatist, that 
 minds, more ardent than comprehensive, are soon 
 infatuated by their own apparent success ; and burn 
 with impatience till they have laid the mighty foun- 
 dations of ' a New System.' It requires a rare 
 degree of philosophical continence to pass, without 
 danger of seduction, amid the waste opulence of 
 that world of facts belonging to the knowledge of 
 human nature which still lies unappropriated by 
 science. 
 
 This failure of philosophy in regard to the first and 
 chief object of curiosity the human Mind, might be 
 of small consequence to the substantial interests of 
 mankind, if theories of evil tendency could be pre- 
 cluded from that ground which true science does not 
 occupy. But when men do not think justly, they will 
 think, not only falsely, but perniciously. Every false 
 system, connected directly or indirectly with morals, 
 is, to the extent of its influence, mischievous. Hence 
 it often happens that the advancement of genuine 
 science is desirable, less on account of its own im- 
 mediate relation to the purposes of life, than because 
 it serves to occupy the ground to the exclusion of 
 dangerous speculations. This is eminently true of all 
 those inquiries that relate to the human mind. A true 
 Intellectual Philosophy, if reared and completed upon
 
 255 
 
 the principles which, in modern times, have given 
 stability to the physical sciences, ought to be con- 
 sidered chiefly as a Fortification, the direct utility of 
 which may, perhaps, seem hardly to compensate the 
 labour and cost of its construction ; but its import- 
 ance and value consist in its forming a bulwark, 
 necessary to the good order and security of the region 
 it encloses. 
 
 That the principles of good morals and social order 
 are liable to be endangered by the absurd specula- 
 tions of pretending philosophists, might be abun- 
 dantly proved by a brief review of the flitting sys- 
 tems advanced by the dialecticians, the medico- 
 metaphysicians, the infidel theologians, the physiog- 
 nomists, craniologists, and phrenologists, and by those 
 designated by the unmeaning term materialists, who 
 have appeared in quick succession during the past 
 sixty years, in Germany, France, and England. 
 Whatever may have been the personal character 
 or intentions of the men, it has usually happened, that 
 these precocious theorists, while professing to ex- 
 plain the structure of the mind, the mutual depend- 
 ence and interaction of mind and matter, the origin 
 and combination of motives, or while pretending to 
 interpret the exterior symbols of the qualities of 
 mind, have seemed to involve some of the first prin- 
 ciples of religion and morality in perplexing difficul- 
 ties. Nor is it easy to estimate, duly, the amount 
 and extent of the injury that has been inflicted upon
 
 250 
 
 the unthinking, and the half-thinking masses of so- 
 ciety, by these specious systems. These specious 
 systems, it is true, have lasted, individually, but for 
 a season; yet each expiring folly has breathed its 
 spirit into a successor; and society has got no 
 riddance by the change. It cannot be affirmed that 
 these mischiefs have been counteracted, in any sen- 
 sible degree, by the immediate influence or authority 
 of true philosophy. They have either been left to 
 destroy themselves by the sure operation of their own 
 inherent absurdity ; or they have been forcibly re- 
 sisted and repelled by a blind, and yet a wise perti- 
 nacity on the part of the friends of religion, morality, 
 and social order. 
 
 A true and complete Philosophy of Human Nature 
 is, therefore, to be desired, because it would preclude 
 the evils of reckless speculation. But the progress 
 towards the accomplishment of so great a work is 
 liable to be impeded by indirect motives, which 
 belong peculiarly to the subject. It is not for the 
 sake of its ultimate uses tjiat any branch of science 
 will ever be successfully cultivated. And it is 
 simply as a matter of science, that an advancement 
 in the knowledge of human nature ought to be 
 sought after. The world of Mind is to be studied as 
 the world of Matter, under the influence of that one 
 motive which, alone, is the proper incitement of phi- 
 losophical labour, namely, the purely intellectual 
 desire to know. This motive must be unencumbered
 
 257 
 
 by any regard to the fruits or the consequences of 
 knowledge, when acquired. The spirit of science is 
 free ; it will submit to no subserviency to a second 
 purpose. The faintest reference to some desired 
 practical result, or the slightest bias of the mind 
 towards a premised conclusion, infallibly produces its 
 degradation, or perversion. 
 
 A fair and moderate estimate of the actual influence 
 of philosophical systems upon society at large, should 
 be formed at the commencement of our studies ; and 
 should be constantly kept in view throughout their 
 progress. Nothing can be more fallacious or seduc- 
 tive than the expectation, that the moral condition of 
 men as individuals, or that the state of political bodies 
 is to be, in any considerable degree, meliorated by 
 the direct influence of philosophical principles. Truly, 
 the world is too stubbornly wrong to be reformed by 
 Philosophy ; yet, it is allowable to hope that, when 
 the world shall be reformed by more efficient means, 
 the establishment of a true Philosophy will be a 
 helping concomitant of the happy change. 
 
 The sober inquirer in this department of science will 
 wish, that the Natural History of Man should be as 
 complete as that of flies and of flowers ; and his 
 ambition will be satisfied, if he succeeds in advancing 
 it to an equal degree of perfection. He will not 
 aspire to obtrude his discoveries and his instructions 
 upon the statesman, or the political economist ; much 
 less upon the theologian, or the moralist. If, on any
 
 258 
 
 occasion, he has to discharge a function of direct 
 practical utility, it will be in the way alluded to 
 above ; when he is called upon to expose the absur- 
 dities of empirics who, so often, on the ground of 
 pretended physiological facts, scruple not to offend 
 the common sense and best feelings of mankind. 
 
 That student of human nature who would fain make 
 himself an institutor of new modes of education, a 
 regenerator of political systems, or a reformer of 
 theology, wholly misapprehends the nature and the 
 powers of the science to which he is devoted. And, 
 in fact, it is the special characteristic of an order of 
 intellect at once ardent, inventive, and contracted, to 
 indulge exorbitant expectations of the beneficial con- 
 sequences likely to result from improvements in par- 
 ticular branches of science. This sort of romantic 
 zeal in the prosecution of a favourite inquiry indicates 
 a diseased disproportion between the enthusiasm of the 
 temper, and the compass and force of the intellect. 
 He who has entertained the hope, that he should be 
 able to conquer the evil propensities of mankind, or 
 to banish delusion and prejudice from the earth by 
 promulgating ' A New Theory of Human Nature/ 
 might well be warned by this proof of the constitu- 
 tional extravagance of his mind, to abandon for ever 
 the business of philosophising. 
 
 But there are other perverting influences which 
 have belonged peculiarly to this department of sci- 
 ence. Some of the most distinguished writers on the
 
 259 
 
 Philosophy of Human Nature have evidently been 
 inspired by an eager ambition to establish, through 
 the force and lustre of their genius, such a system as 
 should perpetuate their fame by triumphing over the 
 established principles of morals and religion : the 
 sum of their reasoning, and all its subordinate parts 
 have been made to suit this ruling design. Others, 
 again, have been animated by a motive, more worthy 
 indeed, but perhaps not more compatible with scien- 
 tific equanimity, the wish to refute the dangerous 
 theories of the first-named class of writers. An in- 
 different observer cannot fail to perceive, on both 
 sides, a frequent, if not a constant deviation from 
 the straight path of induction ; as well as a manifest 
 want of that serene temper which is proper to the 
 prosecution of scientific inquiries. On the one side 
 the malignant motive, and the corrupt ambition, have 
 seemed to impart a sort of ferocious activity to the 
 intellect ; while, on the other, the operations of 
 reason have been disturbed by a too anxious zeal, 
 fettered by indirect solicitudes, and enfeebled by 
 groundless fears. 
 
 From these, and similar causes, it has happened 
 that the Philosophy of Human Nature has always 
 been much more encumbered by foreign difficulties 
 than any other department of knowledge; and it 
 must be confessed, that those difficulties which 
 inseparably belong to it, are great enough to keep 
 it constantly in the rear of the sister sciences. That 
 
 Theoph. o
 
 it should soon be extricated from these entangle- 
 ments is, perhaps, more than can be hoped. The 
 necessary qualifications for the task seem to be in- 
 compatible: for a mind that should possess the 
 requisite philosophic equanimity by being actually 
 indifferent to the implied interests of morality and 
 religion, is itself really subject to the greatest and the 
 worst of all possible perversions ; while one duly 
 alive to the supreme importance of these higher 
 interests will be likely to faulter and recede, when- 
 ever, as must often happen, the course of investiga- 
 tion may seem to put them in hazard. 
 
 In advancing the preceding remarks on the present 
 state of Intellectual Philosophy, I offer no apology 
 for the boldness of thus venturing to bring a charge 
 of capital error and deficiency against established 
 systems, ' non ingeniorum aut facultatum inducitur 
 comparatio, sed via?.' If an apology is really needed, 
 nothing could make it sufficient and availing. Let 
 the reader inquire whether he finds in the present 
 system of intellectual science any solution, or even 
 any definite recognition, of the many interesting ques- 
 tions which relate to the dependence of mind upon 
 the laws of animal life ; or any clue to the explication 
 and arrangement of those important individual diver- 
 sities by which human character is marked ; or any 
 specification of the laws of mind, as developed in 
 the inferior ranks of being ; or even, if the narrow 
 department of dialectical metaphysics, to which the
 
 261 
 
 science has been so improperly confined, exhibits 
 any very substantial improvements. 
 
 If it appears that challenges such as these can- 
 not be accepted by the reputed authorities in this 
 department of science ; let the reader again ask, 
 whether he can be satisfied with the solution given 
 of some of the above-named questions in the crude 
 theories that are every day gaining and losing a brief 
 notoriety : and if he can obtain no instruction on 
 these points from the one party, and if he cannot 
 accept that which is offered by the other, he must 
 acknowledge, that there yet exists no adequate 
 Science of Human Nature.
 
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