lill 11 llfl THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD ENDOWMENT FUND THE OXFORD ENGLISH PRIZE ESSAYS VOLUME II OXFORD D A TALBOYS 1830 fR \'b(c CONTENTS TO VOLUME THE SECOND. Page 1777. Samuel Street. On the Art of Printing , . 275 1794. John Bartlam. Liberty 291 1796. E. CoplestOn, Bishop of LlandafF. On Agriculture . 1 1798. J. Philli MORE, Professor of Civil Law. Chivalry .109 1799. E.. Manx, Bishop of Down and Connor. On Com- merce . ........ 29 1800. E. RuDD. The Connection between Intellectual and Moral Excellence 61 1803. D. Wilson. Common Sense 85 1804. A. Hendy. On the Utility of Classical Learning in Subserviency to Theological Studies . . .139 1805. Reginald Heber, Bishop of Calcutta. A Sense of Honour 167 1806. E. G. Marsh. Posthumous Fame . . . .191 1808. C. Grey. Hereditary Rank 209 1809. C. P. BuRNEY. The Love of our Country . .229 1810. 11. Whately, Principal of Alban Hall. What are the Arts in the Cultivation of which the Moderns have been less successful than the Ancients 1 . . . 253 1 Z/t.:i^MjL ON AGRICULTURE. KAAQS A' EKEIN02 EinEN, "02 E*H THN rEQPriAN TQN AAAQN TEXNQN MHTEPA KAI TP04>0N EINAI. Xenoph. (Econom. nihil est aghicultura melius, nihil uberius, nihil nulclus, nihil homine libero dignius. Cic. ARGUMENT. Primary influence on man and the face of nature. Political Effects — increases population — constant resource for the employ- ment of it — prevents the necessity of emigration. Considered as a subject of commerce— superiority over it. Moral Effects — pro- motes patriotism — vigour of mind and body— independence — reli- gion — simplicity of character — calm and settled disposition. Causes which have tended to check agriculture — principally government — causes of its imperfection in ancient Greece. State of agriculture in Rome — decline of that empire connected with the decay of agricul- ture. State under the feudal system. General view of its connection with government — conduct of our own legislature — abolition of the game laws — inclosure bill — other favouring causes in modern times — commerce — sciences — mechanics — chemistry — natural history — agricultural societies. Recapitulation of its advantages. Con- clusion. OXFORD ENGLISH PRIZE ESSAYS. ON AGRICULTURE. Philosophy has traced the progressive civihza- tion of man through the several stages of huntintr pasturage, and agricuUure. Though he adopted these changes in quest of food only, yet the ad- vantages derived from them have not been con- fined within the limits at first proposed, but are visible in every improvement which his nature has since received. His appetites, by an involun- tary impulse, proved the means of his mental advancement ; and, by leading him to discover the facility with which his necessary wants might be supplied, taught him that they were not worthy of being the sole objects of his pursuit. The benefits resulting from the first change, were, indeed, comparatively few, and of inferior value. Although it substituted a certain in place of a precarious subsistence, yet the leisure and op- portunities which were thus afforded for exercising the intellectual faculties, lost much of their effi- V. I. p. II. B 2 * ON AGRICULTURE. cacy for want of subjects on which they might be employed. It was Hke furnishing tlie implements without the materials: and accordingly we find, that the shepherd state rather sunk the mind into indolence, than roused its energy, or excited its invention. Although the wild tumult of passion, which holds dominion in the breast of the savage, had subsided, yet to the tempest succeeded a calm, equally unpropitious to his progress. The cultivation of the earth is that important era in the history of man, which gave to him his destined rank in the creation, which first or- ganized society, and laid the foundation of civil polity, and, by curbing his native impetuosity, prepared him for a life of labour and obedience. The permanent divisions of land, together with the evident right each individual possessed to the produce of his own labour, naturally gave rise to those accurate ideas of property, which are neces- sary for the arrangement of civil society : whilst a reliance on the operation of remote causes for the fruit of his industry, induced a habit of pru- dence, observation, and inquiry. Thvis out of lawless confusion and rude barbarity, gradually arose a system of order and refinement. The forest, the desert, and the fen, became fertile and salubrious ; the tent or the hut became a village ; the tribe became a nation ; and man seemed at length to have completed his claim to the sove- reignty of the world. ON AGRICULTURE. 5 Whether Agriculture be an art originally im- parted to man by his Creator, and lost by parti- cular tribes through indolence or misfortune, or whether it be the offspring of his own invention, certain it is, both from history and modern dis- coveries, that its introduction among savage na- tions has been uniformly attended with these blessings, and that such has been the progress of its effects. When Caesar's conquests had esta- blished its practice, the woods and marshes of Gaul were converted into healthy and fertile plains, and the patient labour of the husbandman soon effaced the ravages of the Roman arms. Those once barren and comfortless regions, which Strabo"" has described as almost incapable of producing even the necessaries of life, have long enjoyed the most genial climate and most productive soil. In the same manner, we daily behold the industry of man extending fertility and salubrity over the wilds of America, and sub- duing even the elements to the purposes of his subsistence. The extent of its moral and political influence admits also of living, as well as historical testi- mony ; and the well-founded boast of Pliny ^, that the arts introduced by the Roman conquests had diffused happiness over the earth, is confirmed by evidence of a recent date. The industrious * Lib. iv. "^ Lib. ii. cap. v. b3 b ON AGRICULTURE. natives of Peru and Mexico, though destitute of most inventions, which had contributed to the refinement of the eastern world, were found, however, far advanced in every art, of which their hmited opportunities woukl admit. Under a system of jurisprudence and pohce the most regular, the social affections were cherished, and the principles of justice and morality revered. And even in those islands far embosomed in the Pacific ocean, and severed as it were from the rest of the globe, where agriculture is practised, subordination, harmony, and gentleness of man- ners have been seen to prevail. On the con- trary, in the centre of science and refinement, the wandering Tartars still retain their pristine barbarity : without industry, without a home, without a country, they are destitute of principle, justice, and law; and they exhibit the singular phenomenon of an insulated tribe of savages, amidst the civilization of surrounding states. As this art has been the primary and most powerful agent in civilizing mankind, so likewise will it be found the best and surest support of national power, wealth, and happiness. The vast increase of population, which is the constant result of plenty, adds vigour to the state, and is the foundation of all its comparative im- portance. Nor is this to be dreaded by any country as a dangerous acquisition ; as amassing a burden, which it must either hereafter dis- ON AGRICULTURE. / charge, or itself become a prey to intestine tu- mult. The earth is a never-failing resource for the exertions of labour; and as superior skill and industry are employed, its produce will be proportionably advanced. A provision is made for the utmost exuberance of numbers : the spade'' may even supplant the plough, and additional produce still attend the change. By this secure reliance on internal resources, those tumultuous migrations are obviated, by which the peace of ancient nations was disturbed, their possessions plundered, and their labours disappointed. Never will history again deplore a desolating torrent of invaders, compelled to seek subsistence for their numbers by spread- ing war and rapine over the world. With far other effects have the settlements of modern times been attended. As they have been unin- fluenced by necessity, so have they (except in the instance of a single nation) been unstained by violence. Plenty and instruction have marked their course, and blessings hailed them from every shore. But when viewed in its connection with com- mercial interests, the utility of agriculture appears most predominant. The commodities derived from this source, consisting chiefly of the com- mon wants of life, can by no accident be deprived <= Lord Kaimes's Sketches of Man. 8 ON AGRICULTURE. of an uniform demand. A power of withholding an article of positive necessity must doubtless give the party which supplies it a superiority in the exchange ;'' while in the process of procuring it, he is unembarrassed by those uncertainties, from which the disposal of many artificial pro- ductions is never free. Hence the operations of agriculture do not stand in need of speculative caution, and the calculation of remote contingen- cies, but carry with them an ensurance of a sale, with an advantage in prescribing the terms. The produce of manufactures, and the far-fetched luxuries which trade procures, depend so much on the patronage of fashion and prevailing opinion, that their value cannot be with certainty predicted beyond the present day. Hence, in some in- stances, the enterprises of the merchant are timid and feeble ; in others, a bold and hazardous spe- culation either acquires exorbitant wealth, or sinks into irretrievable ruin. The internal confidence, w'hich an agricultural possesses above a mere commercial state, resembles those mental re- sources which distinguish the characters of indivi- duals ; which elevate the m ise and virtuous above the fickle and the vain. The former, sustained at a constant level, and preserving a steady course, is superior to the caprice of fortune : its welfare is independent of external influence, or the <> Smith's Wealth of Nations. ON AGRICULTURE. 9 fluctuation of human affairs. The latter is no sooner stripped of its gay, dehisive splendour, which a gale may dissipate, or the foilure of an imaginary credit may subvert, than it declines as rapidly as it rose. The channels of its wealth are diverted, and whole ages of diligence cannot recall the stream. Thus fell the fame and opu- lence of ancient Phoenicia*. Thus have we seen the casual discovery of a navigator at once drain Venice of her riches and importance : and the celebrated cities of the Hanseatic league^ now present a melancholy contrast to their former prosperity. Even in the summit of their glory, in the midst of their high career, that secret poison which cor- rodes the vitals of commercial states may be dis- cerned. An excessive influx of wealth, and a desertion of slow and laborious occupations for the alluring prospect of sudden gain, have de- graded Spain in the scale of power. Her vigour is overwhelmed by a torrent of ill-gotten treasures, and she exhibits the disgusting picture of a con- stitution enfeebled and vuidermined by the ex- cesses of a pampered appetite. That even tenor of national prosperity, which alone produces energy and firmness, demands a more permanent support : it must result from a spirit of industry, « ]\litford's History of Greece, f Smith's Wealth of Nations. 10 ON AGRICULTURE. always vigorous, because always employed ; of industry, which seeks not by its present exertions to obviate the necessity of future labour, but relies on its own efforts for the supply of every want, and for a resource under every emergency. But financial resources constitute a part only of national strength. The character and dis- position of individuals become important objects of our consideration, as they tend to confirm the stability of government, and bind the social affections in closer union. How these are af- fected by the influence of physical causes has long since been established s, and forcibly illus- trated in the spirit of patriotism, which agricul- ture is observed to inspire. In order to attract and fix our regard, it is necessary that the same objects should be continually proposed to our senses, that the contemplation of them should occupy the greatest portion of our time, and their presence appear connected with the scenes of our habitual employments and domestic con- cerns. Thus the comfortless hovel, and even the walls of a dungeon have been known to possess their charms, and to steal on the affections of their inhabitants. But when the scene around us bears the impression of our own labour, and pours forth its blessings in return ; when we view it as the offspring of our care, as well as the s Falconer on Physical Causes. ON AGRICULTURE. 1 1 source of our prosperity, a kind of parental ten- derness mingles with our attachment, and we cannot without a struggle desert what seems to demand our protection, and repays our toil. Accordingly, it appears from history, that the strongest instances of local attachment have ever been displayed in those nations, among which agricultvu'e has been most generally practised, and most deservedly honoured. The Messeni- ans, whose district alone of all the Peloponnesus was cultivated by citizens'", and not by slaves, possessed none of that spirit of migration, which pervaded the rest of Greece. When forcibly expelled their native soil, they still cherished its remembrance with singular regret; and, though inured by time ' to their exile, eagerly accepted ^ the offer of the Theban general to restore them to their country. And to the wisdom of Providence we must attribute, that this feeling does not take a power- ful hold, till its propensity can be indulged with- out inconvenience — till the land, which engages our affection, is able also to provide us with the necessaries and comforts of life. The northern invaders of Europe quitted their homes without reluctance, in quest of plunder and subsistence ; but no sooner had they turned their attention to ■^ Travels of Anacharsis. Fifteen years. ^ Pausan. lib. iv. cap. 16. Anacharsis. 12 ON AGRICULTURE. the culture of those plains, which had been the scene of their former ravages, than they felt a growing attachment to the spot ; they acknow- ledged Italy as their country ; and, when suc- ceeding hordes approached, they took up arms in its defence. The spirit of the commercial adventurer', when compared with that of the husbandman, is un- generous and selfish. His capital exists in no visible, permanent form — no property fixed and centred in the bosom of his country. There he has few ties to rivet his affections ; he quits it on the slightest disgust, and his treasures remove with him. Meanwhile the lesser effects on disposition and manners, which proceed from an agricultural life, are by no means to be despised. Whatever is of extensive influence, though inconsiderable if noticed in a solitary instance, when viewed in the aggregate, assumes a more important complexion, and imparts a shade at least to the general mass. In calculations of political economy, the smallest saving or minutest improvement is considered of consequence; and surely, the ingredients of moral character, whose texture is often of the most delicate nature, and whose value, even in the least particular, no cold speculation can deter- mine, merit equal attention and respect. ' Smith's Wealth of Nations. ON AGRICULTURE. 13 Habitual temperance and a contempt for lux- urious indulgences, while they preserve both the mind and body in the full exercise of their native powers, tend also to cherish a manly independ- ence. Where there are no favours to court, there is no degrading service to perform. In a life of rural retirement, the vices of a metropolis are unknown as its pleasures ; the owner pursues a sober, steady course, from which restless anx- iety and impatience are banished; and the la- bourer has but few temptations to sacrifice his freedom, or deprave his morals. To these advantages may be added a stronger sense of religion, and a more uniform reliance on the blessings of Providence. Every operation of the husbandman is connected with the higher appearances of nature, which impress an instant awe and admiration of the divinity. And it re- quires no gi'eat experience to observe, that on every occasion he more directly refers to the interference of the Supreme Being, and considers himself more immediately dependent on his will. It is his rain which he implores to enrich the soil, and his sun to mature the harvest, and to his bounty he gratefully attributes the success of his labours. This familiar conversation with nature must gradually form habits of simplicity, as opposite to the intrigues and finesse of the merchant, as the materials, on which they are employed, are VOL. I. p. II, c t4 ON AGRICULTURE. difterent. Instead of soliciting the favour, ac- commodating himself to the caprice, or adminis- tering to the follies and vanities of mankind, the husbandman enters on an equable, uniform career. The revolutions of the seasons, and the grand but simple operations of the elements, are the subjects whose nature he studies, and to whose variation he conforms his practice. The succession of heat and cold, of seedtime and harvest, are sufficient to excite his vigilance, and to inspire him with caution, without producing that despicable cunning, which is acquired by bending to the humours of the times, and specu- lating on the changes of fashion. Thus the profession to Mhich he is devoted, as far as it tends to elevate the mind, and create a dignity of sentiment, superior to that of mercantile ad- venture, must be allowed to rank among the employments of life, as higher, and more worthy of his beiui;. An absence also from the tumult of political discord, and from those licentious outrages, to which the inhabitants of cities are exposed, may be classed among his greatest and most solid comforts. No turbulent passions, nurtured by factious dissension, and inflamed by popular zeal, agitate his breast, or excite him to acts of violence and ferocity. A settled disposition'", a «" Falconer on Physical Causes. ON AGRICULTURE. 15 calm and even temper, compose the general fea- tures of his character ; which are heightened by the charms peculiar to a country life, by the mildness and serenity of its scenes, and the tran- quillity of its amusements. Many and obvious as these benefits appear, it becomes a curious object of inquiry, by what causes they have at various periods been affected in their operation, and how some, even of the most enlightened nations, have shown themselves blind to the interests of agriculture, as well as ignorant of its advantages. Physical obstacles soon disappear before the invincible powers of man, A steady and spirited industry will easily surmount the most arduous difficulties, when se- cure in the application of its labour, and in the enjoyment of the blessings it procures. An un- favourable soil " has been found productive even of greater benefits than extreme fertility : the one has encouraged carelessness and indolence ; by the other the mind has been roused to active and unremitted exertions. But when genius and energy are themselves overruled and cramped by the malignant influence of power, no bounties of nature can counteract the evil, or compensate the loss of independence. The imperfection of agriculture in ancient states, though partly arising from local circum- " Falconer — Lord Kaimes's Sketches of Man. 16 ON AGRICULTURE. Stances, may however in most instances be traced to defects in their civil institutions. It is true, in the infancy of commerce and manufactui'es, when there are few objects to stimulate industry, few artificial wants to excite desire, the produce of the earth will not be raised beyond what is necessary for the support of life °. But that even this demand was not duly answered, is evident from the repeated emigrations, which drained the districts of Greece. If the increas- ing numbers of the state had been directed to the cultivation of their native soil, they would have laid a solid foundation for their country's wealth, and augmented the means of her defence. To other reasons then we must have recourse for the solution. The practice of piracy, which kept the seacoast for a long time p uncultivated, the continual wars, in which every citizen was engaged, and the furious devastation with which they were conducted, were but of inferior in- fluence. A haughty prejudice, formed and cherished by the barbarous policy of their go- vernment, presents itself as the most powerful cause. The proud spirit of Sparta, disdaining to pollute her sons with the practice of manual labour, rejected the occupation as fit for slaves alone ; and, by depriving it of emolument as well ° Hume's Essay on Commerce. P Thucyd. lib. i. cap. 7. ON AGRICULTURE. 17 as of honour, fixed an insuperable bar to its improvement. A defect similar in kind, though less in degree, arose from the vicious refinement of Athens. The use of slaves there also checked the growth of agriculture, and a distinction "i, which the law established, between citizens and husbandmen, unfavoui'able to the latter, was the very reverse of what their common interests required. If to these causes are added many injudicious restric- tions "^ on commerce, and the ignorance of those sciences, which in later ages have been directed to the advancement of this art, the sources of its defects will be sufficiently obvious. The errors of the Grecian system are more clearly exposed, as they are brought into com- parison with the illustrious example afforded during the same period, in the instance of the Romans. The connection which existed between the character of that people, and the occupation to which they were attached, is too evident to admit of controversy, and too admirable not to challenge our esteem. In the early ages of the republic, it received protection from the govern- ment, encouragement from the prevalence of simple manners, and dignity from the persons by whom it was exercised. The husbandman was 1 Dion. Ilal. lib. i. cap. 8. Diod. Sic. lib. i. p. 17. ' Anachaisis. C^ i8 ON AGRICULTURE. considered as the bulwark of the state, and the pecuhar favourite of heaven. Instead of the unproductive exercises of the Gymnasium % by which Greece trained her youth to hardihood and vigour, the Roman soldier' owed his superi- ority in the field to a life of rustic labour. He quitted the plough but for the service of his country in war, and returned to it as the best means of her support in peace. Hence agricul- ture became the principal object of regard in the government. The rustic" tribes enjoyed peculiar privileges : and the excellent policy of settling in the country the superfluous population of the city, which (after the establishment of the re- public) gave rise to the first Agrarian " law, drew olT those tumultuous crowds from the capital, which tend to interrupt the proceedings of the legislature. The spirit and genius of the people was thus diverted to the favoured occupation. We trace it in their religion, in the mode of their punishments, in their military rewards y, in the very names of their families ^ ; and its influence extended to the law itself ''j which thus breathed a milder spirit, and manifested a tender regard for the lives of the citizens. Increase of popu- * Falconer. ' Cato in Praefat. de Re Rustica. " Graev. Thes, Rer. Rom. vol. i. X Ibid. '' Falconer. * Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. xviii. cap. 3. * Falconer. ON AGRICULTURE. 19 lation was at length discovered to be an advan- tage, not a burden to the state ; and a salutary truth was taught, of no mean hnportance, the value of each individual to the community. How soon the decay of patriotism and of every manly virtue succeeds the neglect of agriculture, is evinced in the memorable fall of that empire. When the commotions of civil war had laid waste the plains, and the intrigues of party found an interest in courting the favour, and corrupting the principles, rather than in promoting the sim- plicity and virtue of the public, the country was deserted, and its inhabitants flocked to the capi- tal **. From this period, at successive intervals, the patriotic labours of Cato and Varro endea- voured to recall the fleeting spirit of rural indus- try, to reinstate the people in their morals, and restore vigour to the republic. By their writings we are informed how sensible they were of the evils arising from a desertion of agriculture, and of the causes which produced it; and, from a conviction of its high importance, the genius and knowledge of Virgil were engaged by his politic patron, to illustrate and recommend its practice. Political ignorance however, as well as popular depravity, opposed its revival. Ill-judged re- strictions on the exportation of corn, and larges- ses repeatedly lavished on an idle and profligate '' Varro. lib. ii. Pra?fat. Sallust. in Catilin. 20 ON AGRICULTURE. populace, still tended to relax their energy '^. Vice and venality had taken too firm a hold to admit of reformation, and we at length behold the rich plains of Italy desolated and abandoned to their barbarous invaders. Amidst the darkness and horrors of the feudal system, no art or science could be expected to flourish ; and accordingly we find that the impor- tance of agriculture was then unknown, its j)rac- tice degraded, antl its best interests opposed. In that lawless and unsettled state of things, even the object of acquiring landed property, under- went an essential change. Instead of being valued for its produce, it was coveted for the authority it bestowed : and as long as land was considered to be the vehicle of power, not the source of profit, as long as its security depended on its extent, the universal aim was to accumulate, and not to improve. Hence arose the laws of primogeniture and entail*^, with their train of evils and abuses, which have continued to sub- sist, long after the motive which produced them has ceased to operate. But a spirit of tyranny in the government, and of oppression in the inferior lords, was the prin- cipal impediment that obstructed or rendered ineftbctual every industrious exertion of the hus- bandman. In vain shall we look for industry, " Sueton. in August. •* Smith's Wealth of Nations. ON AGRICULTURE. 21 where freedom and security are wanting *. One tyrannical pretorship was sufficient to stifle the bounties of nature in ancient Sicily, and to cause scarcity even in the granary of Europe ^. By the same means the barbarous policy of the Ottoman empire has desolated the plains of Bessarabia; and under the same administration, even the fer- tile regions of Greece, once smiling with plenty, are now overwhelmed with misery and want. On the other hand, if we turn our eyes to the bleak mountains of Switzerland, we shall behold her hardy sons, born to no inheritance but liberty, spreading over the barren surface an artificial soil, clothing the rocks with vineyards, and con- templating with delight the prospect of enjoying in security the fruits of their labour. It is upon the same principle that the emanci- pation of peasants has been found no less judi- cious than humane; and those of the Polish nobles, who have adopted the plan, in addition to the pleasure of restoring thousands to their rights, have been rewarded for their justice by a triple increase of their revenues s. From this view of the subject, as connected with government, it appears, that almost the only favour, which agriculture expects from the laws, is, to be preserved unmolested in its course. « Smith's Wealth of Nations. '' Vid. Cic. in Verrem. e Coxe's Travels. 22 ON AGRICULTURE. Equally disordered by the poisonous breath of tyranny, or by the rude blasts of popular licen- tiousness, it flourishes best in a free and regular state ; where property is secure alike from the encroachments of despotism, and from the caprice of democracy ; where no arbitrary monarch can extort from the husbandman his well-earned gains, and no tumultuous populace decree the execution of an Agrarian law. With pleasure then we view the wise interference of our own legislature, directed rather to the abolition of abuses, than to the establishment of regulations. Whilst those pernicious reliques of the feudal system, which tended to monopolise and desolate our plains, have in this kingdom been disarmed of their extensive influence (and probably so much alone remains as is necessary for the sup- port of an honourable aristocracy), the lesser evils'', which privileged oppression still retains, do not pass unnoticed. Some designs doubtless there are, worthy a free and enlightened government, and Avhich government alone can execute with energy, whose influence will have the happiest effect on agricul- ture. AVliere the exertions of individuals would '' The game laws, tlie abolition of which was under the con- sideration of parliament at the time this essay was written. Of their evil tendency with respect to agriculture, mucii may be seen in Young's Travels, ON AGRICULTURE. '23 be partial and incomplete, the direct interposi- tion of the law is necessary: — and it is impossible to contemplate the noble project of subduing to the plough what still remains an uncultivated waste, without emotions of joy and gratitude. An acquisition of territory without violence, a civil conquest achieved by arts instead of arms, is a glorious era in the history of a nation. May the tribute of praise due to disinterested patri- otism not be withheld from its authors ! May their names long be cherished and revered! — By those they ever will, who prefer the diffusion of happiness to pomp and splendour, and who then feel patriots most, when their country's interests are blended with the welfare of mankind. Besides the encouragement agriculture has received from the liberal and enlightened sys- tem, which modern governments begin to adopt, extensive and increasing commerce imparts vigour to all its operations. By supplying other outlets for circulation', the superfluous produce of es- tates is no longer consumed, as formerly, in rude hospitality, but every degree of profit, however minute, or however exorbitant, finds an advan- tageous channel, or returns to increase the annual reproduction. x-Ydd to this, that a spirit of im- provement, on bolder and more compi'ehensive views, distinguishes a mercantile people ^ ; while ' Smith's Wealth of Nations. " Ibid. 21 ON AGRICULTURE. the employment of larger capitals animates and invigorates the design. From a close and successful cultivation of the sciences also, which marks the character of the present age, much assistance has heen already derived, and much more may he expected. The perfection of mechanism is displayed in the nu- merous schemes that have been invented for expediting the process of husbandry, and in- creasing the power and accuracy of its instru- ments. Chemistry is deeply occupied in ana- lyzing the various ingredients of soils, in deter- mining their relative qualities, and in making experiments on their combination. Botanical researches have ascertained the properties of plants, and introduced, as well as facilitated, the practice of selection; they have warned us against such as are noxious, and recommended to our notice many, whose existence Mas un- known, or whose value was undiscovered. And to the more intimate inquiries in natural history, we are indebted for a development of those secret but tremendous causes, which blast the hopes of harvest, and involve a nation in the horrors of famine. Laborious investigation has laid open to our view the minutest workings of nature ; and while it has simplified our notions on the origin and progress of the evil, has provided us with weapons for our defence, has introduced method into our endeavours to counteract it, and ON AGRICULTURE. 25 pointed out the precise object, against which to direct our resistance. The benefits, which are thus imparted to agri- culture as a science, would however be limited in their operation, and confined to the learned alone, were it not fi)r the influence of rewards to stimulate the industry, or of example to over- come the prejudices of those whom they most concern. To effect this important purpose, the zeal of modern times is eminently conspicuous in those societies whose means of communication have extended the discoveries, which their liberality or their judgment have excited. Nor can we sufficiently admire the principle of an establish- ment, which regards not interest as the sole spring of human action, but holds forth better and more noble motives. The hope of pecuniary recompense is the only engine government can employ, to encourage mercantile enterprise, or mechanical ingenuity ; but the glow of emula- tion, and the prospect of honorary distinction, are found adequate to promote a spirit of inquiry in all the branches of agricultural concerns, and to compensate for a communication of the dis- coveries, to which it may lead. Such a reliance on the generosity of individuals, while it favours the propagation of public spirit, tends also to ennoble the art, which it patronises — to impart the last and most effectual aid, which it is capable V. I. p. II. D 26 ON AGRICULTURE, of receiving, by raising it in the order of liberal professions. To this grand object were the writings of those sages of antiquity directed, whose characters and opinions we justly reverence, and whose example were alone sufficient to stamp the occupation with respect. But, in addition to the authority of their sentiments, we have seen what awful warnings history presents of the danger incurred by a neglect of it. We have seen the support which it extends to commerce, and the supe- riority it maintains over it, whether considered as a soru'ce of political grandeur, or of private happiness. We have seen that, by cherishing in us a love of independence, an attachment to our country, and a purity of moral principles, it proves the best preservative of our liberties, the firmest pillar of our strength, and the most powerful corrective of the contagion of luxury, and of that growing mercenary spirit, which trade is ever apt to produce, and which under- mines by slow decay the virtue of a nation. Thus while it proposes objects well deserving the attention of the statesman and of the phi- losopher, it exhibits likewise all the attractive charms, which a liberal art can possess ; and we may with confidence expect, that the employ- ment, which Xenophon, Cato, and Cicero, es- teemed most worthy of their patronage, and most becoming their situation, will once more ON AGRICULTURE. 27 be reinstated in the honours to which it is en- titled, and again diffuse its salutary influence over our personal and public interests — will com- municate happiness to individuals, and energy to the state. EDWARD COPLESTON, A. B. Oriel College, Oxford. 1796. ON COMMERCE. 'QKiavov, oantp ykviatg Travrtaai rtrviCTai. IIoM. Il.S'. 246. Commerce appears to have originated by tlie appointment of the Author of nature, and in a conformity to his works. The earth, which di- versifies her productions according to the num- berless differences of soil or climate, bestowing on one country an exuberance, and on others a scarcity, of the necessaries as well as comforts of life : rivers, which facilitate the intercourse between distant parts of the same island or con- tinent ; and seas, which afford a means of com- munication between distant lands : the human body, strong, active, and capable of enduring fatigue, but at the same time inadequate to the task of ahvays furnishing sustenance for itself; and the mind, desirous of gain, fond of society, and eager to enlarge its attainments ; — these, and many other circumstances, may be adduced to prove, that no narrow limits were prescribed by the Creator, to the abilities and exertions of man. d3 30 ON COMMERCE. But some time must have elapsed before he could apply these advantages to any practical use : — he must have acquired certain determi- nate ideas of property before he could profit by the diversity of the fruits of the earth, before he could exchange his own for the possessions of another : he must have learnt the first rudiments of the art of navigation before he could avail himself of the benefits afforded by the ocean ; he must have proceeded a certain length in civiliza- tion before he could be enabled to direct the energies of his mind, and to regulate thereby the mechanical operations of his body. History has recounted the advances gradually made by commerce in the earliest ages of the world : it has examined the manner, in which barter, the first and most simple mode of traffic, was succeeded by the introduction of money ; and has shown the progress of art, from its rude essays, on a raft or canoe, till it exhibited proofs of its improvement in the structure of the com- modious vessel. But notwithstanding the ad- vantages, which flow from commerce, were re- marked at an early period by the inhabitants of Egypt, Phoenicia, Carthage, and most of the Grecian commonwealths ; and notwithstanding various attempts were accordingly made by them for its extension, their discoveries were confined within very narrow limits. And it may appear surprising, that although the ancients had early ON COMMERCE. 31 readied such perfection in the pohte arts, as the moderns have in vain attempted to acquire, nevertheless the Mediterranean, the Euxine, the JEgean, and the Red seas were, for the most part, the boundaries of their commerce. But as com- merce is dependent on navigation, so is naviga- tion on the sciences ; on astronomy, geometry, and an adequate acquaintance with mechanics, and a knowledge of the directive faculty of the loadstone. The arts, the children of the imagi- nation, hastened to perfection with the liveliness and the rapidity of their parent : the sciences proceeded with the slow caution of experience, of which they are the offspring. One of the first, and perhaps the most beautiful, among the epic poems of antiquity, is occupied in describing a coasting voyage along the Mediterranean : one of the finest tragedies of antiquity commemorates the most splendid naval action ' of a maritime people, who'" thought that Samos was as far from JEgina, as /Egina from the Pillars of Her- cules ; and the summit of excellence, in their respective arts, was attained by Sophocles, Phi- dias, and Apelles, whilst the Carthaginians were penetrating to the Fortunate islands, and the Phoenicians were advancing with slow and cau- ' See the description of the battle of Salamis, in " The Per- sians" of iEschylus. ™ Herodotus, lib. viii. 32 ON COMMERCE. tious sails to the south-western shores of Bri- tain. But the want of success, where success is scarcely possible, carries with it no disgrace. The attempt to enlarge these confined limits was worthy of the comprehensive mind of Alexander. AMiatever might have been his views with re- spect to India and Arabia, and whatever ob- stacles occurred to prevent their accomplishment, Alexandria, which continued to be the centre of oriental commerce, and the principal channel of communication between Europe and India, till the discovery of the passage round the Cape of Good Hope, still exists an incontestible evidence of the genius and sagacity of its founder. There was little probability that commerce, in the cause of which the activity of the Greeks, the perseverance of the Phoenicians, and the power of Alexander, had been in vain exerted, should be extended under the laws of Rome, which de- spised and degraded the profession of a mer- chant: still less was the probability, when Rome had sunk under the united weight and energy of her northern invaders ; and when, on the disso- lution of the empire, all intercovu'se was shut up between distant and even contiguous nations. Europe slumbered in torpid insensibility ; and although an individual might at intervals arise, although a Charlemagne or an Alfred might burst forth amidst the surrounding gloom, it was not ON COMMERCE. 33 in the power of an incliviclvial, however extensive his dominion, however hberal his views, or liow- ever enlarged his capacity, to inspire animation and vigour into the hfeless mass. Europe did indeed feel the influence of the abilities of these great men; but it was like the electric shock, which gives a momentary impulse to the human frame, and expires at the instant it is felt. But society is never found to continue in a state of stagnation : it has its ebbs and flows, its diminutions and increase. The mind, which was sunk into the lowest degradation, was again to exert her faculties, and assert her dominion. Commerce gradurlly revived : the Italian states, Venice, Florence, Pisa, and Genoa, rose to wealth and power, by establishing with Asia an extensive trade, which was nourished and strengthened by the crusades : the celebrated Hanseatic league was formed by a number of cities bordering on the Elbe, to secure them- selves against the piracies of their less civilized neighbours ; while Flanders became the great theatre of commerce, and the centre of commu- nication. But hitherto a small part of one hemisphere had set bounds to the ambition and the avarice of man. Nature, by interposing the ocean, seemed to have placed an insurmountable barrier between distant regions. In the mariner's com- 34 ON COMMERCE. pass slie furnished man with a guide, by which he has been enabled to penetrate into her inmost recesses, to rifle the treasures, and to usurp the dominion of the globe. For commerce was now destined to move in a new and more enlarged sphere of action. The limits, which confined its progress, vanished be- fore the inventions of genius, and the perse- verance of courage. The horizon, which before seemed within her grasp, fled as she approached. The prospect widened on all sides ; oceans were added to oceans ; lands were multiplied on lands ; the various parts of the eastern hemisphere be- came acquainted with each other ; and a new world was opened in the west. From that period a revolution has taken place in the manners and pursuits of Europe. To the spirit of chivalry and of martial fanaticism, has succeeded the spirit of commerce : societies have been formed for its encouragement ; laws have been instituted for its protection ; and palaces have been erected for its residence. Every spring, by which it could be advanced, has been put in motion ; and its influence, which has con- tinually increased, is continually and rapidly in- creasing. No longer an object of doubtful policy, to be cherished or rejected at the election of the statesman, it is become necessary to every coun- try, which aims at wealth and dominion : no ON COMMERCE. 35 longer confined to a few distinct regions, it directs the councils of Europe, and regulates the balance of the world. From thus tracing the progress of commerce, and observing the degree of importance to which it has attained, we may proceed to consider those circumstances, which appear favourable to its establishment, and those effects, which attend it, as they contribute to the happiness or the misery of mankind. Of those causes, which appear favourable to the establishment of commerce, some are the gifts of nature, others the effect of art : some are local and accidental, others arise from civil and political institutions. If we contemplate the map of the world, we shall observe a similarity of situation in those countries, which have been most generally dis- tinguished in the history of trade. The inha- bitants of the coasts and islands of the Mediter- ranean and the iEgean, were the first and most celebrated adventurers in the ancient world ; the inhabitants of the coasts and islands of the Ger- man ocean, and of the gulfs of Venice and Genoa, were their first and most celebrated imitators in the modern. Possessed, for the most part, of few natural productions, they depended on ex- ternal means of support : masters of a long line of seacoast, indented with bays, sheltered by promontories, and intersected with rivers, they 36 ON COMMERCE. enjoyed opportunities of transporting the pro- duce of different countries, from one part of the world to another ; while industry, activity, and perseverance, supplied the deficiency of a more fertile soil, or a more genial climate. On the other hand, the most fertile soil, the most genial climate, or the most active and enterprising minds, have not been able to produce any com- mercial intercourse with the interior parts of Africa, or those immense tracts, both in Europe and Asia, which lie northward of the Caspian sea. The necessity of such means of communi- cation was perceived by the penetrating genius of Charlemagne", who, in the darkest ages of Europe, conceived the noble project of uniting the Rhine and the Danube, and thereby opening an intercourse between the German ocean and the Euxine. The no less penetrating genius of Peter the Great °, impelled him to the execution of similar projects ; and the artificial junction of the Volga and the Ladoga lake, by which he pro- posed to unite the Caspian and the Baltic, has introduced commerce into those parts of Russia which lie contiguous to its passage. There may be indeed, and there have existed, certain causes, capable of opening a source of considerable trade without these advantages of " Putter's Gennanic Empire, vol. ii. " Life of Catherine II. Preliminary discourse. ON COMMERCE. 37 situation. Such was the circumstance of a fer- tile spot P, in the midst of an inhospitable desert, which gave birth to the commercial importance of ancient Palmyra ; such is the circumstance of the injunction "i laid by Mahomet on his follow- ers, to visit once, during their lives, the temple of Mecca, which gives occasion to annual cara- vans over the Arabian desert, and supports an extensive traffic between Egypt, Turkey, and the east. But the glory of Palmyra was as tran- sitory as the example is singular ; and the want of navigable rivers, in the latter instance, is sup- plied by an animal peculiar to that part of the world, and emphatically styled by the Arabians ^, " the Ship of the Desert." But whatever may be the natural advantages enjoyed by a country, they are not of themselves sufficient for the support of trade ; and freedom, which supplies the want of many local or acci- dental circumstances, can be adequately sup- plied by none. The commercial career of ancient Egypt was checked by religious restrictions ; despotism has repressed the energy of the Greeks ; and slavery, civil and ecclesiastical, is among the principal causes which have pre- vented, and still continue to prevent, Spain and Portugal from deriving any proportional advan- p See Campbell's Political Survey, vol. i. p. 273. 1 Robertson on India, p. 186 and 400, 8vo. Ibid. v. I. P. II. E 38 ON COMMERCE. tage from their possessions in the Indies. On the contrary, hberty, by opening an asylum to the fugitives of oppression, hiid the foundation of the Itahan commonweaUhs, raised in Holland a rampire against the encroachments of the ocean, and rescued an empire from his dominion. Many writers have indeed gone so far as to assert, that the establishment of exclusive companies, a mea- sure so salutary to the weak and infant state of commerce, at its revival in the middle ages, has been injurious to its growth in the present con- dition of the world : and the examples of Hol- land % perhaps the wealthiest country in Europe ; of Spain*, who has improved in opulence since the removal of certain exclusive privileges ; and of Europe " at large, who, notwithstanding many natural advantages on the side of India, has derived less benefit from her commerce with the east, than from that with America; have been cited to prove, that the more open the port, the more extensive and more productive will be its trade. Thus much however we may safely advance: if the government encourages the indi- vidual, or at least does not molest him, in the enjoyment of the fruits of his exertions, his exertions will be proportionably great; the man » See Smith's Wealth of Nations, vol. ii. ' See Robertson's America, vol. ii. 4to. " See Smith's Wealth of Nations, vol. ii. ON COMMERCE. 39 of birth, of fortune, and of respectability, will embark in trade ; and the haughty senator of Venice, or the elegant citizen of Athens, or of Florence, will not blush at the title of merchant. If trade is obstructed by difficulties, or its follow- ers treated with contempt, it will entirely languish, as under the laws of ancient Rome ; or will be practised by the lowest orders of society, as the Jews under the feudal system, or by men of desperate fortunes, as the Portuguese adventu- rers in Asia, and the Spanish in America and the West Indies. In directing our attention to the effects of com- merce, the first and most obvious is it tendency to civilize mankind. The ferocity and savage- ness of several of the Spanish nations of antiquity were attributed to their having no intercourse with strangers : to the same cause, may be attri- buted the barbarism of Europe in the feudal ages. The most commercial nations have indeed in all ages of the world led the way, and made the farthest progress in civilization ; while, on the other hand, all the inland parts of Africa, and several of the northerly tracts of Europe and Asia, have continued from the first foundation of the world in the same uninterrupted state of seclusion and ignorance. Man is formed for society, and for intercourse with man; in his savage and unsocial state, he exhibits a mind narrowed by ignorance, and debased by pre- 40 ON COMMERCE. jiulice ; by degrees he discovers that he can derive assistance from tlie good offices of others, and by a return can contribute to their support : thus his facuUies expand, and his heart is en- larged ; he becomes mild, useful, and benevolent ; the consciousness of mutual dependence produces mutual regard ; and self-interest is the first link in the golden chain, which binds society to- gether. The influence of mutual intercourse, which thus operates on individuals, when more widely extended, in a similar manner effects the aboli- tion of national prejudices, and gives a softness to the national character. In the former case, it inspires man with a regard for his neighbour, and a love for his country ; in the latter, without dissolving these more immediate ties, it makes him a friend of mankind, and a citizen of the world. While the Jews were indulging in seclu- sion their antipathy to strangers, the Phccnicians were spreading their improvements through the surrounding coasts ; — while the modern Chinese is enjoying the fruits of his own country in selfish and sullen gratification, the European is exerting his abilities to increase the comforts, and alle- viate the distresses of mankind. The mind too, thus prepared by intercourse, is best qualified to adopt and profit by the inven- tions of others, and to strike out into new paths of improvement. ON COMMERCE. 41 Agriculture, though anterior in origin to com- merce, has derived from it many important ad- vantages, and, in some degree, depends on it for support. The landholder, who has no means of disposing of the superfluous produce of his land, will not be desirous of raising more than sufficient for the sustenance of himself and his dependents ; and in whatever state of barbarous magnificence he may thus be enabled to live, around him he will contemplate a barren and inhospitable domain, and a peasantry sunk into the lowest misery and indigence. But when he " becomes sensible that his exertions will not be fruitless, a regard to his own interest will impell him to the cultivation of his ground ; the marsh will be drained, and the forest will be cleared ; his meadows v/ill teem with cattle, his valleys will wave with corn, and his orchards will blush with fruitage y. The merchant likcAvise, whose ambi- tion frequently leads him to become the pro- prietor of land, contributes in no small degree to the advancement of agriculture ; for from being accustomed to employ his money in advantage- ous projects, he is fond of undertaking works of improvement ; and, from his habits of order, attention, and economy, he is best qualified to execute them with profit and success. By the operation of these causes, a change was intro- " Smith's Wealth of Nations, vol. ii. p. 117. y Ibid. 118. e3 42 ON COMMERCE. duced in the appearance of Europe at the revival of commerce ; and Flanders ''■, which has before been mentioned as the centre of traffic, presented the fair prospect of the best cultivated country of the age. Nor is it only by encouraging the culture of in- digenous productions, that commerce has been thus beneficial to agriculture : by the trans- plantation of exotics she diversifies the produc- tions of nature, and gives thereby to man addi- tional objects of enjoyment. Hence different countries are no longer characterized ^ by their exclusive productions, but reciprocally adopt the productions of each other : thus the citron ^ of Media shed its uninterrupted succession of fruits and diffused its salutary fragrance amidst the groves of Italy ; thus the sugar cane of Asia has flourished in most of the southern pro- vinces of Europe, and has thence been trans- planted to the West Indies ; and thus the vine of Portugal has succeeded to the barren and vm- profitable forests of the Madeiras. But notwithstanding the sup])ort thus derived to agriculture, the country which depends on its own produce alone for subsistence, is still subject to an evil, which all the powers of husbandry * Rlickle's History of the discovery of India, prefixed to the Lusiad, 32. •' Divisae arboribus patria;. \'irg. Geo. ii. '' See the description of this tree, lib. xii, cap. 3. Pliny's Nat. Hist. ON COMMERCE. 43 cannot prevent, and which nothing but trade'' can remedy. The occasional faihire of a harvest has been known to spread the horrors of famine ov*^r ancient Egypt, over some of the richest countries of modern Europe, and over the fertile and populous plains of Bengal. But we have reason to hope that mankind will never again be visited by so afflicting a calamity ; and that if the source of subsistence should be dried up in one country, commerce will open to it fresh channels of supply from another. As commerce thus furnishes mankind with ad- ditional means of support, it likewise greatly pro- motes their comfort and convenience, by the encouragement of manufactures and the useful arts. For such is the impulse given by commerce to the mechanic arts, and such are the advantages arising from the practice of them, that, in the hands of a mercantile and industrious people, the wool*^ and iron of their native lands become more valuable than the gold and jewels of India; and the plough, the spinning-wheel, and the loom, by increasing the means of employment and subsist- ence, promote the population, give vigour to the activity, and thereby add to the real wealth, strength, and happiness of a nation. For notwithstanding the too great justice of the complaint, of the number of lives continually <^ See Mickle, 184. ^ Hume's Essay on Commerce. 44 ON COMMERCE. lost in navigation and manufactures, we shall find, on estimating the aggregate, that the most com- mercial countries are in general the most popu- lous. Whence originated those numerous colo- nies which issued from Phoenicia and Greece ? Whence those no less numerous tribes which throng the towns and the fleets of Holland ? It is true that in the United States of America', the increase of inhabitants is infinitely greater than in any state of Europe : but the rapidity and extent of the increase arise from causes of a distinct and peculiar nature ; and the population of that coun- try when compared with its dimensions, still falls very far short of that of the commercial countries in Europe. It is likewise true, that the produce of the lands in China, though cultivated in the highest degree, is insufficient for the sustenance of the people. But in such a case population be- comes a burden, instead of a support ; a curse, instead of a blessing. Why will a civilized, and in some respects an enlightened nation legalize the murder of children, rather than secure life and comfort to thousands of her miserable natives by the introduction of the blessings of commerce ? In addition also to the means of subsistence, which it supplies, commerce opens a passage to those active members, whom the most fertile and best cultivated country may sometimes be unable e Smith's Wealth of Nations, i. 106. ON COMMERCE. 45 to support ; and to those wild and turbulent spirits, which the best constituted government cannot always content. Nor is any danger to be apprehended by the parent state from such emi- grations, which not only relieve her from the necessity of supporting useless and bvu'densome bodies of men ; but by affording a new channel for the exportation of her domestic manvifactures, contribute to the encouragement of her domestic industry, and in consequence to the establishment of her power. It has indeed been objected that those thousand small and almost imperceptible threads, which bind the husbandman to his na- tive soil, are torn asunder by the desultory operations of trade. But when the enjoyments and comforts, arising from this source, are suf- fered to flow in a regular and uninterrupted stream, there is little probability, that the indus- trious and wealthy merchant will be induced to change the certainty of advantage in his own country, for the ideal prospect of greater profits in another. In the mean time a middle rank is formed in society, superior to the abject condition of the mere peasant ; and with the diffusion of the conveniences of life, zeal in their defence and preservation is proportionably diffused. The body too, and the mind, which must necessarily be exercised in the employments of peace, are thus prepared and fortified to meet the difficulties of war. The sailor who has traversed the ocean 46 ON COMMERCE. in pursuit of wealth, thence acquires skill and perseverance to contend with the enemies of his country : the mind, which has been accustomed to calculate the remote contingencies of com- merce, may thereby be enabled to comprehend the relative bearings and dependences of covm- tries, and to penetrate into the mazes of politics. These, by a concurrence of circumstances, the theory and practice of military skill, are alike pro- moted. The operations of trade tend to procure the mastery of the sea ; and it was the opinion of Themistocles and Cicero ^, an opinion founded on reason, and justified by experience, that to be master of the sea is to be master of the world. To the same cause mankind have been, and still continue to be, indebted for those arts and sciences which add elegance as Avell as comfort to life ; which render power respectable, and which dignify and exalt, at the same time that they re- fine and embellish, the mind. The respective faculties of different men are not perhaps distinguished from each other by so marked a line as has been frequently imagined : the capability of improvement is innate in most men ; actual improvement depends much on ex- ternal causes. The germ, which has slept through the winter in the parent stock, is drawn forth and matured by the genial showers of f Book X. Epist. 8. to Atticus. ON COMMERCE. 47 spring and the warm sun of summer : the spark, which no unassisted power of the flint or the steel can emit, is produced only by collision. Similar causes, acting on the minds of men, pro- duce similar effects. Commerce, by supplying a numerous part of society with the necessaries and conveniences of life without any manual ex- ertion, leaves them at liberty to cultivate the polite arts; and, by enabhng the opulent to hold out ample encouragement to the man of genius, gives birth to emulation and perseverance. Manifold indeed, and incalculable, are the advantages which learning and the arts have derived from the inventions and improvements of commercial nations. To a nation of merchants ^ the ancient world was indebted, if not for the origin, at least for the diffusion of the use of letters : — to a na- tion of merchants ^ the modern world is little less indebted, if not for the invention, at least for the first introduction and earliest improvements in the manufacture of paper and in the art of print- ing. The commercial commonwealths of Greece were the first to encourage, to reduce to es- tablished rules, and to carry to perfection, the arts of poetry, painting, and sculpture : the com- mercial commonwealths of Italy and Flanders were the first to promote them at their revival, and to give perpetuity and circulation to their s The Phoenicians. '' The Florentines, 48 ON COMMERCE. works, by the discovery of new arts ". From the ruins of the Byzantine hbraries'', and from the darkest monasteries of Germany and Britain \ a merchant of Florence collected the lonfj for in Epaminondas, in Phocion, in Aristides*^. If hence he carries his eye downward, through the period of Roman greatness, examples of this kind still crowd upon his view. He joins in the applause, which history has bestowed upon Cu- rius, Cincinnatus, Camillus, Fabricius, Marcellus, Paulus, Laelius, the Catos, the Scipios. And whether it be from the influence of an early prejudice, or whether in the Roman annals, dis- plays of virtue are really more frequent and more dazzling, characters like the preceding appear to abound in a proportion far beyond that of the Syllas and the Catilines. But the proofs, which are with more difficulty and uncertainty derived from individual charac- ters, may be obtained with greater ease and stronger conviction, by examining intellectual ex- ^ The talents of Phocion and of Aristides may be inferred from the important offices which they filled. See their Lives by C. Nepos. V. I. P. II. H 74 CONNECTION BETWEEN INTELLECTUAL cellence, as it enters into the character of nations. In this inquiry the mind is not lost in the infinity of examples : nations do not, as individuals often do, throw a veil over their real character; nor like them are they prone to sudden and capri- cious changes. As they are more permanent in their nature, so are they fitter subjects of phi- losophical examination: we contemplate them throughout a much longer period, and are thus better able to trace the regvdar dependence of the effect upon its cause, through all the varia- tions which they undergo. What before, there- fore, might be thought to illustrate rather than to establish our positions, will now be made sub- servient to a more important end ; and the analogy which we are endeavouring to maintain, will not only be made clearer by examples, but the argu- ment also will derive force from their number. An opinion has partially obtained (an opi- nion, ingrafted, perhaps, by poetic fiction, and cherished by the fondness of wild imagination), that morality is inconsistent with a state of re- finement, or less calculated to flourish in polished society, than amidst rude simplicity and savage independence ; that virtue resides, not in the regions of boasted civilization, not in countries enhghtened and softened by arts, but amidst the mountains of Lapland, or the deserts of Tar- tary ; upon the shores of Guinea, or the banks of the Oronoco. But what cool and unprejudiced AND MORAL EXCELLENCE. 75 observer can lament, upon the score of morality, the rise and improvement of arts, the progress of science, the diffusion of letters, the amelio- rated administration of justice*, and the com- parative refinement of manners? Surely the enthusiast alone, when bewailing the vices of mankind, can deplore the civilization of Europe, can sigh for the days of Cassibelan or Caracta- cus, and wish to see restored the sentiments and manners of the early race of Britons. There is, according to the opinion of a sagacious writer ", a propensity in human nature to magnify the vir- tues of past times, and to decry those of the present generation. Hence nations, in the period of their refinement, have esteemed themselves less virtuous than their ancestors; and, as authors have abounded in such periods only, this opinion has been widely difflised among mankind. But the fairest criterion, by which nations can esti- mate the morals of their forefathers, is to be found in the character of the uncivilized tribes in their own day. Perfidy was ascribed by the refined Greeks and Romans to all the barbarous nations, by which they were surrounded. In later times, notwithstanding that some exceptions may be admitted to exist, amongst savage and f One very beneficial effect of this has been the abolition of pecuniary compensation for crimes. Vide Robertson's Charles V. vol. ii. book ii. p. 105, 4to. ed. ? Hume, part ii. essay 2. 7b CONNECTION BETWEEN INTELLECTUAL uncultivated communities, the grossest immoral- ity has been generally discovered. Treachery, cruelty, drunkenness*^, lasciviousness, and even an immoderate passion for gaming, all, or some at least, of these vices, are observed to prevail amongst them. Gaming is a vice to which the ancient Germans were insatiably addicted ' ; and the savage of North America, in the intervals of hunting and war, a stranger to the duties of civilized life, unoccupied by intellectual exer- cise, has recourse to this amusement, and in the moment of eager and frantic agitation, frequently stakes the whole of his possessions, his clothes, his arms, or his liberty ^ The indifference of these savages to their nearest connections, their inhumanity to their offspring, and their barbarity to captives taken in battle, are universally known. With fatal ingenuity had they anticipated ' those baneful European liquors, to the scarcity of which they may, in some measure, owe the preservation of their race. Whilst in these cold and unenviable '' Vide Dunbar, essay x. p. 349. " Among savages the desire of something that is of power to intoxicate, is, in every situation, the same. Such a similarity of taste, among people in such dif- ferent situations, must be ascribed to the influence of some moral cause." Robertson's America, vol. i. p. 398. ' Tacitus de Mor. Germ. sect. 24. ■^ Hennepin says of the Ilinois : " They are great gamesters, as well as all the other savages that 1 have known in America," Travels, chap. 33. See also Robertson's America, vol. i. p. 396-7. I Id. ibid. AND MORAL EXCELLENCE. /7 communities nearest relations are regarded with apathy, or shunned with unnatural horror, even in the pangs of sickness and of death "". Many of the nations in the interior of Africa have been found, by a late adventurous traveller, to display, in their character, a greater number of valuable qualities, more benevolence, more hu- manity, more integrity, than the inhabitants of Europe had, perhaps, surmised. But the virtues of these Africans are by no means unqualified ; and it must be remembered that, if virtue, beyond what might have been expected, has been wit- nessed in the bosom of Africa, a higher degree of civilization, and a greater acquaintance with the arts have also been discovered. But it must, above all, be considered, that the cruelty, rapa- city, and perfidy of the Moors are proportionate to their ignorance, and form a striking and an abundant counterpoise to the virtues of the Man- dingo and the neighbouring nations". The Chinese, a learned and refined people, are stigmatized deservedly for their perfidious cun- ning. But the people of Whidah, in Africa, are equally addicted to dishonest practices, and even exult in their fraudulent adroitness". The native of Malacca is also remarkable for his propensity "> See Robertson's America, vol. i. p. 406. " Vide Park's Travels into the Interior of Africa. ° Kaimes's Sketches, book iii. sketch ii. p. 165. h3 78 CONNECTION BETWEEN INTELLECTUAL to theft. The rude hordes of Kahnucks are not, according to travellers, more tenacious of good faith than politer nations P; and when, in uncivi- lized countries, a spirit of dishonesty frequently appears, or, in the absence of temptation, is sup- plied by other vices ; when the Brazilian, though honest, glories in revenge ; when the negro of Sierra Leone^ lives but for the indulgence of his grosser appetites ; and when so great a part of the natives of Otaheite are lost to all sense of connubial fidelity or parental affection ; — it is vain to allege, that in many rude countries locks and bolts are unknown; that cabins may there be neglected without danger, and that dishonesty is not the vice of the Laplanders, the Ostiacs, the Chilians, or the Hottentots ^ The morals of Europe in the dark ages were such as evince how greatly virtue has triumphed in the progress of civilization, in the revival of arts, sciences, and literature. From this period men, says Robertson, " were accustomed to exer- cises and occupations, which tended to soften their manners, and give them some relish for those gentler virtues, which are peculiar to nations amongst whom science hath been cultivated with success\" If Ave review the annals of our own P Ilanway's Travels, part i. ciiap. 16. '1 Buflfon's Nat. Hist. vol. i. p. 239. Kaimes's Sketches, book iii. sketch ii. p. 132 sqq. ' View of the State of Europe. AND MORAL EXCELLENCE. 79 country, before the era of the reformation, we shall find that the number of assassinations, and the frequent use of poisons, the depredations of lawless banditti, the perjury of jurymen, the cor- ruption of magistrates, the specious violation of an oath*, and the profligacy of the most sacred characters, tend strongly to refute that intempe- rate censoriousness, which rails at the degeneracy of modern times. True it is, that the reformation of religion has proved, in a great measure, the reformation of morals ; but that reformation itself was the acknowledged effect of the revival of letters, of the rescuscitation and advancement of those mental powers, which had for ages been neglected. In the most enhghtened nations of Europe, in England, in France, in Italy (countries where the efforts of awakened intellect have rivalled or ex- ceeded all its former energies), cause, it must be confessed, has been given for the censure of dis- soluteness and depravity of manners. Yet, in regions where intellect is, in a manner, torpid, where arts, sciences, and learning, are unknown or despised, in the Turkish dominions, the vices of more polished nations are equalled and sur- passed. Integrity is as often sacrificed to interest; revenge and voluptuousness everywhere prevail; and the Koran, already licentious, is tortured ' Kaimes's Sketches, ubi supra, p. 166 sqq., and p. 158 and 161, 80 CONNECTION BETWEEN INTELLECTUAL to vindicate the grossest immorality. AYhilst the neighbouring inhabitants of Persia, who, by a long series of wars and calamities, have expelled the arts, and fallen from civilization ; and who, according to their own characteristic confession, " have but one eye, whilst Europeans have two"," are notorious for cruelty and for perfidy, and in licentious indulgences are almost unequalled. The preceding examples appear sufficient to prove, that early and uncivilized communities, where intellect but faintly dawns, are far from being more virtuous than polished nations. That the arts are the offspring of intellect, that wealth is the product of the arts, that luxury is the con- sequence of wealth, that temptations to vice and inability to withstand them may be increased by luxury, cannot indeed be denied. Yet civiliza- tion, with all its disadvantages, even after it has introduced an excess of luxury, is morally prefer- able, if we may judge from experience, to pri- mitive barbarism or early improvement. The golden age is the fiction of poets : the Tartars, the Moors, and a multitude of abject and de- grading examples actually exist. And to reject the moral benefits of civilization and refinement, because these may be, in some respects, the cause of immorality, is to solicit the return of original darkness, and to deprecate the manifold blessings " Ilanway's Travels, part ii. cliap. 51. AND MORAL EXCELLENCE. 81 of the sun, because that source of Hght, of life, and of plenty, sometimes kindles the pestilence, or desolates a land with dearth. Thus has the influence of intellectual excel- lence upon morality been traced in a speculative view of its good and ill effects ; in individual examples ; and in the comparative character of nations. And, from the preponderancy of argu- ments which has appeared after a candid ex- amination, intellectual and moral excellence may be contemplated in the relation of cause and effect. But the connection which exists between them, is not to be discovered solely in the effects of mental improvement upon morals : advance- ment in morals regulates, in its turn, the occu- pations of the intellect. In proportion to the influence of the highest of all ethics, though the system shrinks not from investigation, and reason is unfettered and uncontrolled, reason will itself become insensibly more diffident. It will fear to intrude upon the presence of the Deity, to violate his sacred an inaccessible abodes ; and will rather turn to contemplate his lower works, and ex- plore His goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Milton. The increase of that influence will suggest, at the same time, abundant occupation for the most comprehensive and most active mind. It will 82 CONNECTION BETWEEN INTELLECTUAL induce the ingenious or the learned to employ their abilities in alleviating the condition of the human race, in obviating its wants, and multiply- ing its resources ; or it will prompt them to devote their talents to the noblest of purposes, the general encouragement and promotion of virtue. It will teach them, in their career through life, never to prostitute their powers in the pur- suit of emolument or fame; it will moderate, without proscribing, the sallies of wit, and will temper, without weakening, the efforts of genius. It may now be affirmed, without temerity, that the deference, commanded by talents, is usually just : and that the ardour of intellectual emu- lation, whether in individuals, in societies, or nations, is not only innocent, but, in a high de- gree, laudable. False would be that prudence, fatal and detestable that timid circumspection, which should seek to curb the career of intellect, to suppress its energies, or check its cultivation. The powers of an exalted understanding, the gifts of nature, and the acquisitions of industry, have been, it is true, not unfrequently perverted, have been made subservient to the basest and most criminal purposes. But, to overbalance these evils, the efforts, the pursuits, and the improvement of intellect, have banished ferocity, and softened human intercourse ; awakened bene- volence and inspired liberality; corrected vice, and added lustre to virtue ; amused the listless, and AND MORAL EXCELLENCE. 83 occupied the idle ; have supported the dignity, yet restrained the presumption of our nature; and have caused flowers, more fair and more fragrant than any which decorate the haunts of hcentious- ness, to spring up and bloom beside the paths of morality. Nor should it be forgotten by those who would degrade intellectual excellence, tliat, like the quality of mercy, It is an attribute to God himself. EDWARD MILES RUDD, B. A, Oriel College. 1800. COMMON SENSE. The powers of the human mind have ever been a subject of the most mteresting research. They continually supply new points of inquiry, and soon introduce us, when deeply pursued, into a boundless range of fascinating speculation. What is solidly important, however, is least encum- bered with difficulty; and the subject which is now to be considered, cannot fail of proving a source of various instruction. Common sense is sometimes defined to be that power of the mind by which ideas are received and compared : but it is usually considered as the ordinary judgment of mankind implanted by the Creator, and capable of perceiving truth, when presented to it, by simple intuition. In proportion as the mind can bring at once under its review a larger number of ideas, and deter- mine on their accordance or disagreement, is the strength of this faculty. Its appearances and operations may be improved by culture, and by a union in the same mind of more exalted talents. V. I. p. II. I 8(3 COMMON SENSE. Its influence is wide and important. Extend- ing its sway over all the transactions of life, it claims a rank from the frequency, if not from the splendour of its effects, of no trifling elevation. The multitudes who in every state subsist by personal labour, are indebted to it for all the limited attainments which their situations require. The commercial branches of society derive equal benefits from its exercise : it guides their en- deavours, directs their enterprises, and secures their success. Its influence reaches even to the highest orders of the community : for no rank of men can be at liberty to neglect its dictates, so far as they are the rules of domestic propriety. In- deed, by a conformity to the guidance of common sense, the great body of mankind, without talents of any brilliancy or extent, pass thi'ough life with reputation, and meet its duties with suflicient ex- actness. It is essential, therefore, to the happiness of society ; and though it does not, when alone, often lead to celebrity, at the least it rescues men from insignificance, and secures to them the most solid benefits. It will be found, indeed, that the most weighty concerns of life are not so frequently at the disposal of genius and imagination, as of the plain maxims of an ordinary judgment. The more splendid faculties of the mind may, by their ra])id associations, surprise and enchant us : they may challenge our applause, and arrest, for COMMON SENSE. 87 the moment, every interfering claim : but we regulate our conduct by a more sober guide. The luxuriance of genius is corrected, the fervours of the imagination are suffered to cool ; and we adopt, not our hasty discoveries, but the result of temperate examination. Nor is this wonder- ful. If the ordinary operations of Ufe depended for their efficacy on the decision of superior faculties, the most important, as well as the most numerous, transactions of the world must fail. It is, therefore, a happy constitution, that while the lighter and less momentous divisions of the elegant arts are the province of genius, the ex- tensive and unbounded range of ordinary affairs is under the dominion of a common thouffh in- ferior talent. That this representation is accurate will be manifest, if we recollect the fatal mischiefs which the absence of common sense has uniformly occa- sioned. When ignorance, or fear, or an imagina- tion unduly excited, have for a season suspended its influence, characters, at other times the most collected, have acted with manifest absurdity. What is there so irrational, which men of the first general talents have not adopted, when, under the irritation of favourite theories, they have neglected the dictates of a sober judgment ! What schemes have not been proposed ! What measures not adopted! What hopes not en- couraged! What mad and incoherent expecta- 88 COMMON SENSE. tions have not been formed, when, to the neglect of common sense, men have suffered their minds to be inflamed with some fond and extravagant project ! Their imaginations having been once strongly roused, the magnitude of their contri- vance has appeared to them to be only equalled by the necessity of accomplishing it. They have forgotten intervening obstacles, overlooked the uncertainty of human affairs, considered success as already ensured, and lost, at length, in ruinous speculation, that wealth and opportunity which, in the sober advances of regular employment, would have secured to them every object of I'easonable ambition. The event has been similar in the concerns of literature. The judgment at any time neglected, what inconsistences have dis- graced the pursuits of the critic, the philosopher, and the divine ! It has even been the unhappi- ness of more than one celebrated name, by the unaccountable fascination of an hypothesis, to waste the finest talents and the richest stores of learning in fruitless industry. Their works may be valuable, indeed, for their adventitious excel- lences, but the object of their labours has long sunk into merited and universal neglect. The absence of common sense has been not less fatally marked in the affairs of nations. The expedition to the Holy Land remains an un- common instance of the weakness of the human mind, and of the miseries from which a simple COMMON SENSE. 89 and early recurrence to an unbiassed judgment would have delivered mankind. The conduct of the inhabitants of Munster, under the influence of the anabaptists, has, from a similar deficiency, tarnished the annals of the sixteenth century. The condemnation, on some parts of the con- tinent, of the earlier and more surprising dis- coveries in anatomy and physiology, as having a tendency to atheism, proceeded from no other source. But every monument of the fatal effects of a dereliction of this faculty with regard to nations, is absorbed by a review of the un- paralleled disasters which have so lately dis- tracted Europe. These calamities may be traced, indeed, to a higher origin : yet, if common sense had not been disregarded in the general over- throw, the evils which we can now only lament, if they were too impetuous to be prevented, would surely have received some mitigations of their horror. It has, accordingly, been by a recurrence, however partial or insincere, to this important guide, that any appearances of tran- quillity, or any approach to the intercourses of society, promise, at length, to soften the miseries of innovation. But, to leave these occasional deficiencies of the faculty of common sense, its dependence, in general on circumstances of diligent culture, may be accurately observed. Between the same ordi- nary powers in the inhabitant of a civilized i3 90 COMMON SENSE. nation, and of one left to its original barbarity, the difference is astonishing. In a savage state, the power of common sense seems so languid as to be nearly extinct. The extreme indolence and stupidity of the American Indian almost ex- ceed belief. He has no foresight beyond the moment, no conceptions of rewards and punish- ments as motives to action, no ideas except those which are strictly sensible, and no words to ex- press anything abstract or immaterial. " Their vacant countenance," observes an eminent histo- rian % " their staring, unexpressive eye, their listless inattention, and total ignorance of subjects which seem to be the first which should occupy the thoughts of rational beings, made such an impression upon the Sjianiards, when they first beheld those rude people, that they considered them as animals of an inferior order, and could not believe that they belonged to the human species." We need not, however, have recourse to man in a state of nature, in order to illustrate the power which cultivation possesses over the operations of this faculty. In cases drawn from the inhabitants of the same nation, the distinction, though not so considerable, is still great and obvious. The man who has spent his life in an obscure hamlet, seems to partake but in a small degree of this » Dr. Robertson in his Tli^tory of America, vol. ii. book iv. COMMON SENSE. 91 general endowment. His mind, oppressed with ignorance, and torpid for want of opportunities of being exercised, appears to have lost any capacities it might have originally possessed. Never called to any intellectual operations, he is incapable of apprehending or comparing ideas, if they rise in any considerable degree above the objects of his gross and uncultivated experience. The worlds of science and literature are to him unknoAvn. The most familiar propositions appear deep and complicated. Yet, in this state, he is contented with his measure of knowledge, and feels no want and no anxiety for any higher attainments. To this character, how opposite is the situa- tion of multitudes, who, possessing no natural superiority, have been favoured with the advan- tages of unremitted culture ! The emulation of society, the intercourse of literary and polished life, the urgent calls of profession and duty, vmite to elevate and expand their mind. Every spark of latent energy is thus elicited, all the powers of the intellect are called forth and excited to enter- prise; diligence supplies the ardour, or rivals the exercises, of superior talents ; and the man who in the contracted sphere of a village would have remained in obscurity, brought forth to notice, and placed in a happy and congenial situation, becomes an important, if not a brilliant character. 92 COMMON SENSE. This truth, obvious in the case of individuals, loses none of its force when applied to collective bodies. The general depression of the common sense of the inhabitants of Europe, which began with the decline of the Roman empire, and was completed by the irruption of the fierce and bar- barous nations of the north, is too well known to require a particular detail. It was not till the thirteenth century that the overwhelming and impenetrable darkness of ignorance and super- stition began to be dissipated. For the space of more than six centuries, circumstances, which excite ridicule for their absurdity, or regret on account of their injustice, fill and disgrace the annals of Europe. The trial by judicial combat, the various appeals to accidental circumstances for the decision of the most important causes, the right of private war, the extravagant pretensions of chivalry, the gross and complicated impositions of the papal see, and the unrelenting rigour of the feudal system, are only so many outrages on the ordinary judgment of mankind to which the Christian world were gradually subjugated. To compare these circumstances with the present state of general information in all the nations of Christendom, is sufficient without any comment to illustrate the influence which cultivation and refinement have on the advancement and opera- tions of common sense. To the effects which arise from different cir- COMMON SENSE. 93 cumstances of improvement, those are to be added which spring from its connection with moral excellence. The higher and more impor- tant exercises of this fiiculty are not often to be found where the mind is enervated by licentious indulgence. Not to insist on those consequences of irregular conduct on the intellectual powers which are direct and physical, a dulness is gra- dually induced, which checks the operations of the mind, weakens the decisions of the judgment, and causes the finest energies of the understanding to languish and decay. The most celebrated have therefore been, in general, the most virtuous characters. Virtue bestows a certain vigour, and independence, and alacrity, which, like health to the body, gives a tone to every exertion of the intellect, and strengthens the efforts of common sense. The judgment has a tendency, on the other hand, if its suggestions were regarded, to produce the most accurate conduct. The pre- scriptions of morality are so consonant with its very first principles, and derive so much authority from its unbiassed exercise, that a conformity to the rules of common sense is only another term for propriety of behaviour, and the discharge of every personal and relative obligation. After every consideration, however, of culture and morals, great differences will still exist in the appearances of this power, arising from the measure of original endowment. Where every 94 COMMON SENSE. circumstance wliicli can be supposed to have an influence is exactly similar, some vill be dis- tinguished by a masculine and comprehensive understanding, to which no exterior advantages can elevate the mass of mankind. With the recollection of a late eminent moralist and phi- losopher'', every idea of esteem and veneration must be awakened. Under the guidance of an unrivalled proportion of this faculty, united with superior literary attainments, he developed every subject to which he approached, threw new and important light on the most obscvire and intricate topics, and formed, by his weighty and authori- tative decisions, a distinguished era in the style and criticism and lexicography of our country. He may be considered, indeed, as a singular monument of the powers of a strong and en- lightened judgment. When the faculty of common sense, however, has been equally bestowed and similarly culti- vated, if its general appearances are still dif- ferent, a case obvious and important, it may perhaps be resolved into national complexion, that variation which arises from the cast of man- ners, climate, or constitution of mankind. The inhabitants of France are, accordingly, seldom strongly under its operation. Actuated by a certain vivacity and sprightliness of mind, they i* Dr. Samuel Johnson. COMMON SENSE. 95 listen with little attention to the soher provisions of the judgment. All is gaiety, and pleasure, and enjoyment; while distant evils are never suffered to interfere with present gratification. The com- plexion of the German places him at a very remote distance from this indiscriminate alacrity. His character, slow in unfolding itself, and cau- tious in its progress, presents us with the same ordinary judgment, under nearly opposite cir- cumstances. The Italian is yet different from either of these; and, especially since the culti- vation of the arts has declined, seldom rises to firmness and decision, or breaks the alluring charms of indolent indulgence. The grave and inflexible formality of the Spaniard affords us a farther modification. A spirit of haughtiness and procrastination, increased by the utmost rigour of papal tyranny, and no longer assisted by that ardour for enterprise which once marked and enlivened his character, seems to have op- pressed all freedom of thought, and to have lessened, if not extinguished, his intellectual importance. Mistakes will therefore arise in estimating the measvu'e of common sense, if, in surveying a character, something be not allotted to national temperament, if we do not recollect that the same power of the mind will, from this large and inevitable infusion, present itself under various circumstances of advantage. Amidst the other nations of Europe, however. 96 COMMON SENSE. Great Britain may be considered as eminent for the possession of this facuUy. Holding an inter- mediate and fehcitoiis place between the versatile talents of one people, and the tardy or enervated operations of others, our country has received, in a degree by far supei'ior to any of the adjacent powers, this very important endowment. Not that we are deprived of ovu" full proportion of splendid and illustrious talents ; but, having to boast of the powers of genius and discovery, in common perhaps with others, in this we seem to stand distinguished, that the general body of the people possess a strong, ordinary capacity of judgment, that our inferior orders hold a higher rank in intellectual excellency than the same orders in any other state. Information is more widely diffused, moderate and sufficient common sense is more generally to be discovered, and its exercises are more just and considerable, than in the other nations of Europe. For this distinction we are indebted to the elevated tone of public morals, to our salutary and corrected enjoyment of political liberty, to the encouragement which is afforded to literary merit, and the extensive diffu- sion of religious and general knowledge. Appeals, therefore, when they are fair and honourable, to the common sense of this country arc usually attended with success. When par- ticular tribunals are at any time led away by mis- taken information or local prejudices, the general COMMON SENSE. .97 sense of the nation seldom fails to discover and correct the aberration. To this remark few ex- ceptions are to be found. It is, indeed, possible, that the passions of the people may be hastily and improperly excited ; but the effervescence is never permanent. Like the sea, agitated by a storm, it soon subsides into its wonted state of calmness and tranquillity. Of the truth of this observation, we have, of late, had a memorable^ and, in the event, a most honourable proof. During the contest, from which it is difficult to say whether we are yet disengaged, a very in*- sidious appeal was made, not to the judgment and reason, but to the very worst passions of the human mind. Under the cloak of free investiga- tion, a contempt of all authority, human and divine, was industriously recommended. The pride, and ambition, and avarice of mankind were addressed and inflamed. Every artifice was em- ployed, and employed with malignant diligence, to call off the minds of the people from the dic- tates of an unbiassed judgment, to the hasty and alarming rapacities of unbridled licentiousness. The sound understanding of this country never rose with more dignity, than in the universal ab- horrence which has, at length, repressed and overwhelmed these base macliinations. To its salutary influence we are indeed indebted, under the blessing of Providence, for tlie integrity of our constitution, the affluence of our resources, V. I. p. II. K 98 COMMON SENSE. and tlie purity of our morals and our re- ligion. Of these just encomiums on our country, it is painful to recollect that any points should be found to limit the application. But whilst the cruel and absurd practice of single combat is still retained from the barbarities of the dark ages, and so long as the still more inhuman traffic in slaves'^ continues to dishonour our national cha- racter, we must acknowledge that the influence of reason remains lamentably deficient, and that humanity, not less than common sense, is wounded by circumstances of deep and complicated enor- mity. In vindicating for this faculty all its genuine influence, it will be necessary to disclaim a certain artful and superficial method of addressing the populace, which, whilst it puts on the appear- ance of simple common sense, is deceitful and dangerous. Of this every innovator, in civil as well as theological subjects, has known how to avail himself. A bold claim to science, an af- fectation of indiscriminate candour, an insidious and popular address to the passions of mankind, an insolated and malicious and inflammatory representation of errors incident to every human institution, were the detestable arts of a man'' <= This traffic, to the eternal lionour of the British name, is now abolished. *■ Thomas Paine. COMMON SENSE. 99 celebrated only for his villany, and whose name, as well as cause, has long been consigned to perpetual and merited oblivion. To appreciate the importance of common sense, we must not however confine our observations, as we have hitherto done, to its direct and in- dependent influence: we must proceed to ex- amine the place which it holds as superadded to the higher powers of the mind, as moderating the ardour of genius, as guiding the efforts of learning, as extending its laws to eloquence and philosophy, and occupying an important situation in the concerns of religion. For in the characters, and they are numerous, where it cannot be considered as the leading talent, common sense is conspicuous in the re- gulation of those efforts which it could not have produced. Genius may shine in all its splen- dour ; the invention may be grand and prolific ; the powers of the imagination unbounded; the mind quick to discern, ardent to pursue, com- prehensive to embrace; yet, unless an ordinary judgment be added, every thing will fail. The character, as the vessel without ballast, will want steadiness and direction. It may amuse or as- tonish ; but it will seldom be productive of the highest advantage. With the conduct of literary attainments the union is equally obvious. Not to mention the importance of this faculty in the prosecution of 100 COMMON SENSE. learning, its salutary improvement can certainly be expected from no other source. Where the connection of learning and common sense happily subsists, no limits can be assigned to the benefits which the scholar may produce. If it be wanting, his adventitious advantages, like the fortifica- tions of a revolted city, only make him the more formidable opponent of truth. Of the adapt- ation of learning to the most interesting pur- poses, a late elegant and accomplished scholar" was a very honourable example. His various and extensive literature was uniformly directed by an enlightened judgment to objects of real importance to mankind. The best interests of social order and of religion, stand indebted to his laborious and successful researches ; and we have only to regret, that his country and the world were so prematurely deprived of his supe- rior talents. Connected thus intimately with literature in general, criticism and the art of reasoning may be considered as its peculiar province. Of criticism, indeed, a nervous common sense, combined with leai'ning and general information, is not an ac- cessary only, but the very foundation. Criticism is surrounded with dangers. Extreme severity, curious and minute analysis, occasional, or local, or hasty prejudices, may easily betray its de- e Sir William Jones. COMMON SENSE. 101 cisions. Against these errors a sound judgment can alone prove an effectual guard. It prescribes that narrow and delicate boundary, from which, if criticism declines, it becomes the engine of a party, and loses all the deference to which it has ever, when candidly exerted, a just and honourable claim. With regard to logic, it may be doubted whether it be anything more than the transcription and arrangement of the dictates of common sense. It is on this ground that it rests. From this the art of reasoning derives its name, its divisions, its improvement, its pre- valence, its solidity, its perfection, and even its existence, as a branch of general knowledge. The syllogistic method of reasoning, its principal boast, may be deemed one of the soundest dis- coveries of common sense to which the world was ever witness. And the philosopher *^ to whom we are indebted for the invention, amidst his general praise, obtained on this account not the least or most trifling part of his celebrity. To the art of persuasion, the influence of an ordinary judgment is in every respect necessary. The frigid exposition of truth excites not the affections of the mind. Eloquence, to be ef- fectual, must not only be formed on the cold dictates of science, but be enriched also with a deep and practical knowledge of the human heart. f Aristotle. k3 102 COMMON SENSE. The elegant and measured composition of the closet, the subtleties of science, the difficulties of intricate argument, the nice refinements of language, are lost upon a mixed assembly. An oration, like an instrument, may be polished till it has no edge. It is the plain and impressive address to the common sense and common feel- ings of the mind which enlightens and rouses those who hear. The polished periods of Iso- crates are received with little interest. But when Demosthenes rises, and, leaving the study of words and the elaborate elegances of expres- sion, paints, in bold and vivid colours, the more prominent evils of their situation — represents Philip already at their borders, and honestly taxes them with a desperate security — the Athe- nians are roused, and nothing is breathed but ardour and revenge. He is the disciple and the orator of common sense. His representations are so forcible, that they arrest the attention of men ; so perspicuous and splendid, that, like the light of the sun, their effect is immediate and irre- sistible. The dependence of moral philosophy on this important faculty is equally remarkable. The absurdities which were involved in the systems of ancient ethics, owed their rise to a neglect of its dictates. The impracticable tenets of the Stoics, the licentious dogmas of Epicurus, and the per- plexing doctrines of the Academics, were dif- COMMON SENSE. 103 ferently but equally removed from every rational limit. To systems so repugnant to common sense, the doctrines of Socrates form a memorable ex- ception. Following the prescriptions of a dis- cerning judgment, he drew off the attention of men from inquiries of impenetrable obscurity to the cultivation of piety and virtue. By the grace- ful exhibition of truth, enforced with the finest genius, with admirable powers of irony, and the command of a fascinating eloquence, the Sophists of his age were repressed, and such disciples § were formed as have seldom been equalled, and never surpassed, in the republic of letters. With the science of natural philosophy the union is not less intimate. Till a grand and noble effort of common sense placed its pro- secution on the true basis, centuries passed away without any considerable discoveries, or the im- provement of what was already known. The ancient system of dialectics, useful and important when acting in its proper sphere, being applied to subjects to which it had no analogy, and being imposed on the world by the authority of a great name, and the veneration of long and uninter- rupted possession, the progress of physics vvas slow and fallacious. The most obstinate phe- nomena were disposed of by propositions of no distinct meaning; and the advances of the stu- s Xenophon and Plato. 104 COMMON SENSE. dent, as of the traveller in a mistaken road, in proportion as they were diligent, only removed him farther from accuracy and truth. The ap- peal, therefore, of the illustrious Bacon from barren argument to experiment and nature, was a sound and eminently important dictate of common sense. Perceiving that logic, when applied to philosophy, was considered as determining with equal precision as in cases of moral evidence, he boldly demanded a new and accurate standard : he declared that, not arguments, but facts — not what agreed with principles, but principles them- selves — not the demonstration of syllogism, but of experiment and induction — were the points to be insisted on. Rising in this manner with all the dignity of truth, and improving upon the intimations of his eminent predecessor of the same name, the charm which had for ages en- chained the world was dissolved, physics were established on their natural foundation, the way was opened for the important adaptation of ma- thematical science to philosophy founded on ex- periment, and a very distinguished period was formed in the improvement of the human mind. To assign a more important office to the com- mon judgment of mankind than we have hitherto allotted it, would be impossible, if its influence did not extend in a necessary though subordi- nate manner to the concerns of religion. In possession of an unerring institute of our faith. COMMON SENSE. • 105 it is the province of common sense, united with mature and soHd learning, to examine its evi- dences, to discover by a diligent and honest in- vestigation its genuine doctrines, and to provide for their establishment and defence. To the neglect of this simple expedient the principal corruptions of Christianity may be ascribed. In- terdicting the perusal of its records, the church of Rome gradually introduced an accumulation of doctrines and ceremonies, which can never be re- flected on without the utmost astonishment. The repugnancy of her constitution to the most ob- vious precepts of common sense when enlightened by the Scriptures, was resorted to at the period of the reformation as an argument of irresistible efficacy. We learn from the historians of that period, that the dispersion of translated copies of the New Testament was among the principal causes of the prodigious success of the reformed doctrines. The case was obvious. Nothing leading to the monstrous and absurd doctrines of transubstantiation, of purgatory, of the adoration of relics, of indulgences, and the intercession of saints, could be discovered in the sacred code. In proportion, therefore, as it was allowed to address itself to the common understandings of men, those tenets which were conformed to it would of necessity gain adherents. A similar recurrence to the standard of our belief would have an eminent influence in counter- 106 COMMON SENSE. acting the unworthy admixtures which still dis- grace the Protestant churches. The bold claim to a more unbiassed exercise of the judgment, which is with little modesty advanced by certain heretics *', is groundless and dishonoui'able. Those propositions may be superior to common sense, which are by no means repugnant to it. And the simple, obvious, and logical interpreta- tion of the records of our religion is what we have a right to demand, though that interpreta- tion should involve truths incredible to the pride of an inaccurate or hasty reasoner. Nor, indeed, will the honest inquirer be long in discovering that the systems of those divines can be of little value, for the establishment of which the laws of criticism are to be outraged, writings intended for popular instruction are no longer to be under- stood in their grammatical sense, and before the magic wand of an insidious disputant every venerable doctrine is to be weakened or dis- carded. After this review of the operations of common sense, its rank, no less than its importance, may be fairly appreciated. Having traced its influence in the arrangement of ordinary duties, we per- ceived that the most numerous and weighty events were under its direction. This conclusion was confirmed by adverting to the public, as well I" The Socinians. COMMON SENSE. 107 as domestic, evils attendant on its absence. Its variations under circvmistances of culture or neg- lect, under those which spring from the moral character and those that may be traced to the differences of national complexion and original endowment, were then considered. This left us at liberty to touch on its connection with the higher faculties ; as curbing the imagination, di- recting literary excellence in general, and some branches of it in particular, as standing united with ethics and natural philosophy, and even claiming a secondary place in the concerns of our most holy faith. Of its eminent utility there can, therefore, be no doubt. It lies at the foundation of all that is important and honourable in life. Its dictates are to human knowledge what the axioms of geo- metry are with respect to mathematics. They are first principles, to which all posterior advances must be referred. Where common sense may be considered as the leading faculty, it forms charac- ters of worth and reputation, it conducts us se- curely in the usual tracts of science, and is in general a sufficient moderator of the transactions of the world. Even where its situation is subor- dinate, its presence can in no way be dispensed with. Whilst it yields to the imagination in splendour, it rivals it in solid importance. If it be not the torrent surmounting every obstacle, 108 COMMON SENSE. and rolling with a majestic and impetuous course, it is the calm and silent stream, which proceeds with equal and delightful advances, and carries refreshment and life wherever it flows. DANIEL WILSON, Edmund Hall. 1803. CHIVALRY dvSpiov "Ittttwv re ai^apoxapnav Aaijiovtai rpopoL Pindar Pyth. 2. The real nature of Chivalry, the causes which pro- duced it, the effect which it had on the manners and character of men, cannot well be vmderstood without some reference to the history of those times in which this strange and singular institution first made its appearance in the world. There is no necessity, however, to make this reference either very prolix or very minute : a few leading facts are all that are necessary to be stated, and fortu- nately also they are such as are very familiar to the mind of every scholar. Every one is aware, that on the fall of the Roman empire the western kingdoms of Europe were conquered, and in fact almost new peopled, by nations unacquainted with policy, and order, and science. We know too that the possessions which had been acquired by the sword, were retained also and governed by the sword ; and that for this purpose every king- dom was parcelled out by the sovereign amongst V. I. p. II. L 110 CHIVALRY. his vassals and dependents, who were taught to consider these possessions not only as the reward of their past services, but as the price also of future services, hereafter to be exacted from them in the same line of military exploit. Hence it was that every possessor of territorial property became himself a chief, more or less powerful as the case might happen, in the extent of his domain, or in the number of his vassals, but all equally aiming to raise themselves above the level of their neighbouring chiefs, and to emancipate themselves from the control of their sovereign. No worse system could have been devised for the general happiness of mankind ; the miseries however which resulted from it were not at first felt to their full extent. By superior abilities many of the sovereigns had been able to maintain a complete sway over their turbulent and licentious followers, and to give something like order and stability to their government ; but, under the weak and feeble suc- cessors of Charlemagne, the only bond which had held together so many i-estless and ferocious spirits was dissolved, and the western kingdoms of Europe groaned under the petty tyrannies of lawless and almost independent chieftains. Christianity and philosophy, which had hereto- fore contributed so much to the cultivation and embelhshment of the world, and which might still have given an effectual check to acts of CHIVALRY. Ill tyranny, of outrage, and of cruelty, were banished from the world, or if not banished, lost;— the one in speculative controversy, the other in me- taphysical subtlety. In this state of things, so different from any which had ever before obtained in any age or country, we are not to wonder that new habits and new manners should have been formed, or that institutions should arise, in many respects entirely different from any that had taken place in the history of man. Such in the strictest sense of the words was the institution of chivalry, of which, though it may not be possible to ascertain with precision the exact date, either of its first appearance or of its several subsequent modifications, yet it is not difficult perhaps to show how naturally, it might almost be said how necessarily, it arose from the manners and habits of those rude and lawless ages, and how closely and intimately it was connected with them. Still less difficult will it be to trace its consequence and effects, its fortunate cooperation with the progress of civili- zation and refinement, and the peculiar colour it gave, and in many respects still continues to give, to the manners, the ideas, and even the amuse- ments and the writings, of the inhabitants of modern Europe. We know that general passion which obtains invariably in the mind of man for military prowess 112 CHIVALRY. and military exploit, and the degree of honour and reputation which, in every stage of society, is annexed to a superiority in these particulars : it is not necessary to dwell on so plain a fact, it will be more for our purpose to observe, that a thousand circumstances concurred in the ages we are now considering, to heighten this fondness into a passion capable of absorbing and over- whelming every other. The feudal chief w'ould necessarily feel, that not only his honours and distinctions, but even his own personal security, and still more the power of affording protection to his vassals, de- pended entirely on the superiority of his courage, and his skill in war ; his whole mind therefore was bent to this one object — his whole life was spent in the attainment of it — it was the only superiority which he thought worth possessing, because it was, in fact, the only superiority which he was capable of comprehending. For other superiorities in virtue, for instance, or in wisdom, or in science, cannot be valued as they ought, till we have learned to know that virtue, or wisdom, or science are really blessings, and have seen that they are considered as such in the general estimation of the world. The chieftain of these ages appeared to feel his existence only in the character of a warrior ; wealth or the extent of territory Avere but secon- dary considerations to him, and were valuable CHIVALRY. 113 only as they enabled him to increase the number of his followers, and to appear in the field at the head of nvmierous and well-appointed bands. It must be observed also, that the warfare in which he was engaged, was very different from the war- fare of modern times. In our days the military commander, however his mind may be flattered by the pride of avithority and the pomp and splendour of war, yet at the conclusion of that war he becomes at once, and without repining, the citizen of a peaceful state — secured in his person and property by the laws and .power of that state, and left at liberty to engage in any other of those pursuits which the community of which he is a member considered as honourable or dignified. But to the feudal chief, peace, considered as a state of full and perfect security, never returned ; it still remained for him to guard against the pre- datory ravages and inroads of his neighbours. These inroads were sudden and unexpected. A small troop of desperate banditti, such as could be collected hastily and in a moment, would at- tempt, perhaps, vmder the cover of the night, to scale his battlements or force the gates of his castle; — and against such inroads it was necessary, though his greater forces were disbanded, that a smaller body, however, such as the limits of his fortress would contain, should be kept continually under arms. l3 114 CHIVALRY. In modern Iwttle, the personal strength, or skill, or address, of any individual, separately consi- dered, are of little importance, both from the number which are brought into the field, and from the nature of the weapon which is used. But in these petty warfares the number was itself so small, that every individual even was of conse- quence, and the general combat was little more than so many separate combats, in which the strength, courage, or address, of every individual was seen and distinguished. The chief, there- fore, was disgraced for ever who did not in all these points appear superior to his followers : — to him it belonged that he should be first in the onset and last in the retreat ; that he should be seen to manage his steed and to wield his lance with superior address, to deal around him the severest blows, and to appear to disregard equally both the pain of his wounds and the harassing of fatigue. We have now only to consider what effect the continuation of all these circvunstances would be likely to produce. In the first place, then, the infant heir, whose future credit and dis- tinction, whose very existence, was to depend on his skill in arms, would be trained in them, as it were, from his very cradle ; they w^ould be the first playthings put into his hands, the first in- structions he received would have nothing but arms for their object, and every thing w^hich sur- rounded him would be calculated to impress the CHIVALRY. 115 image of war on his susceptible mind. It might often happen undoubtedly, that the weakness of his frame or the delicacy of his constitution would better have fitted him for less toilsome and less tumultuous scenes of life : but this was little at- tended to, the continuation of these martial im- pressions triumphed at length over nature, and forced him to adopt the courage of the times. In a word, the profession of arms was the only one worthy of his birth, and nothing was left for him but to embrace it. As he grew vip, the progress of his improvement was from time to time dis- played to the vassals of his parent, both to insure him of their affection, and to show them also that he was worthy to command and able to protect them. And when that period at length arrived in which he was to be received and acknowledged as a man, it was to be done with public ceremony, and with all the display of feudal pomp and hos- pitality. He was called upon to give proof of the improvement which he had made in martial exer- cises, and he received the solemn lesson, that if the vassals who now surrounded him were bound to obey him and fight under his banner, he also on his part was bound to give at their head the example of valour and of courage, and to risk on every occasion his life in their defence. The same ceremonies, or similar ones at least, were adopted in every other case, the profession of arms was considered as much too dignified and 116 CHIVALRY. respectable, to be undertaken lightly by every individual, according to his own caprice and incli- nation, and much more so when it was undertaken in such a way, as carried along with it not the pretensions only, but even the right to assume the command over others. This claim of assuming the command over others seems to have been at all times the distin- guishing and essential character of the knight ; it was not only that he consecrated himself solemnly to the profession of arms — there was much more than this. A knight might be commanded by another knight, and by no one else ; and when- ever he a})peared, no individual, nor any number of individuals, whatever their rank might be, if they possessed not the honour of knighthood, would feel any scruple to receive his orders in the field. From this idea of knighthood all its character- istic features may easily be deduced. It would follow, of course, that from him who claimed to command, somewhat of proof would be expected, to evince to others, that he was entitled to make such a claim, — and somewhat of pledge and en- gagement on his part, that he would not disgrace his rank by base or unworthy conduct, — for even in those times, rude and barbarous as they were, the natural feelings of the human mind were felt and acknowledged. Even in those times it was felt and acknowledged, that no real honour could be CHIVALRY. 117 derived from a triumph over an unequal foe, and still less from the oppression of the weak, the helpless, and the unresisting. Even then, the distinction was fully understood between the manly openness of brave defiance, and the in- sidious wiles of treachery and surprise ; it was felt, that even the highest degree of courage could be sullied with cruelty, and that courtesy and humanity to the vanquished would add a lustre even to the most splendid glories of the field; for war, as it has been observed, has its own morality, and pride itself may be the noblest as well as the basest passion of the mind. The engagements, then, of the knight, bound him to much more than the display of courage ; in that light, his rank and character would be forfeited if he deserted his companions in the field, it would have been equally forfeited if he had deserted or forgot them in their captivity : he was to be bold in arms, but he was pledged also to the practice of courtesy and humanity — to spare the helpless — to resist the insolence of oppression — and, above all, he was taught that falsehood and untruth were as disgraceful to the knightly character as cowardice itself. What is so usually termed the sense of honour, is nothing, as will be easily allowed, but the aggregate of these particulars ; and chivalry, by diffusing this sense of honour through the world, diffused also the milder virtues, it produced what 1 1 8 CHIVALRY. might almost be termed a maVtial philosophy — less perfect indcecl than true philosophy, or true religion, but calculated, however, to correct, in some degree, the depravity of the times, and to amend the general corruption of manners. The courts of princes, and the castles of barons may be considered as the schools in which this martial philosophy was systematically methodized and arranged, and its principles inculcated on the rising generation ; and from this cause un- doubtedly, about the middle of the tenth century, a general improvement in manners may be dis- cerned in every country in Europe, evidently premature, because the other improvements did not keep pace with it. It is sufficient in proof of this to appeal to the single evidence of Henry, surnamed the Fowler, at the institution of what may be called the first tournament in Germany ; " no one," it is there said, " was to be admitted to that most honourable of all amusements who did not profess Christianity, who had been known to be guilty of perjury, treason, slaughter in cool blood, sacrilege, or the violation of women." Such an ordinance could never have existed unless a very considerable alteration had taken place. An alteration not only merely from the age of Alaric and of Attila, but even from the times of Pharamond and of Clovis. The pro- tection, indeed, of the weaker sex, was one of those points to which the true knight considered CHIVALRY. 119 himself as particularly bound ; it may be deduced in a great degree even from the general principles of knighthood, but it was increased by many of the particular customs of the age. The daughter of the Gothic chieftain, educated in stately reserve, and shoAvn only to the youthful warriors at high solemnities and stated festivals, became frequently the object of their contention and the reward of their valour, — in the scenes of martial amusements she sat not as the spectator only, but as the judge also of the combat, and from her the conqueror received the prize. — There was no hope to obtain her hand but by a series of toilsome and hazardous adventure, and by a strict adherence to all the knightly virtues ; that hope, therefore, became one of the strongest and most powerful incentives to the practice of those virtues, and in the meantime, the strict and cere- monious mode of life kept her, as it were, aloof from the profanation of the vulgar eye, and en- shrined her in a sort of religious sanctity. The transition was easy from one particular case to universal practice, and the same habit of cere- monious respect and observance was transferred to the sex in general. This was the original of that polite and attentive gallantry which was peculiar to these times, and of which no traces are to be found in the histories or the writings of the ancient world. This sentiment was often no doubt overstrained in the times of chivalry, by 130 CHIVALRY. extravagant refinement, and by something which approached ahnost to the fervours of enthusiasm ; still it had its use in softening and humanizing the manners ; and surely it is no inconsiderable merit that we attribute to it when we say, as we truly may, that from the gallantry of chivalry have been derived that delicacy of sentiment — that politeness of manners — andthatelegant intercourse of society, which distinguish the present possessors of Eu- rope from every other body of men in the world. It was another effect of chivalry, that as it clearly arose from the distinction of ranks, so it tended as clearly to widen that distinction, and by so doing, it did, in fact, lay the foundation of all the nobility of Europe. At this period (for commerce was little known, and there was neither scope for the intellectual powers of the mind, nor means of rising to eminence by the exertions of in- dustrious labour) the portion of civil liberty enjoyed by the middle orders of society was extremely small, and the villains were everywhere in a state of servitude. To hinder the peasantry from dis- tinguishing themselves in war, they were never allowed to serve on horseback, and as cavalry was the great strength of their armies, a more effectual method could not have been devised. Thus the institutions of chivalry were, from the first outset, confined to men of noble birth, and it is evident that knighthood was always esteemed nobility, since no man of what quality CHIVALRY. 121 soever, deemed a knight inferior to himself, and those of the highest birth could not act as noble- men till they had received the honour of knight- hood ; hence it was that in the ancient histo- rians of those times, dukes, marquises, earls, and barons, were all comprehended (when parti- cular praise was meant to be conferred) under the denomination of good, wise, and valiant knights. The desire of deducing an origin from remote antiquity, has ever been one of the most attractive objects of human vanity ; no wonder then that a passion so prevalent should have influenced a body of men, who looked down on the peasant and burgher with disdahi, and sought by every method to make them feel their proud supe- riority. That same spirit, therefore, which in the Homeric age made every chieftain eager to deduce his lineage from the father of gods and men — that same spirit diffused itself amongst the professors of chivalry, and was the cause that those only who could make good their pretensions to noble ancestry were entitled to the honour of knighthood ; nor was the dignity of birth to be sullied by unequal alliances ; the dresses, arms, and accoutrements, by which each knight was distinguished, gave rise to heraldry ; and from this distinction of ranks, thus clearly ascertained, and accurately defined, we can trace the founda- tion of that hereditary nobility, which has had v. I. P. II. M 122 CHIVALRY. sucli weight in the constitution of every European government. Little did our ancestors think, that even in those early days of chivalry, they were forming for their posterity a body of men who, in process of time, and according to the gradual progress of society, would not merely be lords over slaves and villains, but would become the strength and energy of government, bound by every tie of interest, of honour, and of religion, to defend the constitution of their country, alike against the encroachments of regal power, and the assaults of a misguided populace. We know the advantage of such a body of men, by comparing our situation with that of the Turks, and other eastern monarchies, where there is no hereditary nobility, and where nothing but the immediate favour of the reigning prince can exalt any one above the general level of the people. There is no necessity that we should pursue the institution of chivalry through all its mo- . difications, whether it appeared with all the extravagance of enthusiasm, in the character of the single knight, who went forth to traverse the country for the purpose of redressing injuries and of protecting the helpless and forlorn ; or whether it was consolidated into the form of those military orders, which in some cases united the efforts of many individuals in the carrying on one regular system of adventure, and in others, brought together faithful and valorous subjects, CHIVALRY. 123 to rally round the standard of their sovereign, and to form the firm bulwark of his throne. It is impossible, however, to omit the particular cir- cumstance of the crusades. These holy expedi- tions may be said to have set the seal to the spirit of chivalry, by transporting the flower of Euro- pean warriors through unknown and distant countries, by inviting them to enterprises much more arduous than any in which they had been yet engaged, and, above all, by mingling religion with the other leading principles of human action. It was on the shores of Palestine, too, that the different orders of knighthood were first es- tablished, which by creating distinctions in the ranks of chivalry, by making them the reward of great and exalted deeds of piety and valour, com- pleted the combination of military ardour with the religious enthusiasm of the times. The powerful effects of the union of these strong incentives are unparalleled in the history of man. They gave the first check to the brilliant and distinguished successes of the Saracen arms, and secured to an earl of Bologne, and his pos- terity for near a century, possession of the crown of Jerusalem ; — they operated equally on men of diiferent tempers and different dispositions, on the boisterous passions of Richard, or the good and enlightened mind of St. Lewis, and the sober resolution of our English Edward. I2i CHIVALRY. In the intervals between the holy wars, when the minds of men were for a time diverted from their grand object, the spirit still was kept alive, and the same mixture of military and religious enthusiasm, which had animated them to under- take the defence of the wretched pilgrims in the east, incited them to succour the injured, and re- lieve the distressed at home : — and now they were better fitted to undertake the task. Their ideas had been enlarged by the contemplation of Ro- man policy and jurisprudence, faded as they were, which still existed in the capital of the eastern empire. They had witnessed with astonishment the improvement to which several of the Italian states had attained, by the cultivation of manu- factures and commerce ; and on their return, when they compared the situation of their own countries, they became sensible of the feeble and defective manner in which justice was administered under the feudal system, and how frequently the innocent and defenceless sunk under the power of the oppressor and the ravages of the spoiler. Yet after all it must be acknowledged, that while the good effects of chivalry were every day displaying themselves, in the courtesy, honour, and religion, of the higher orders of society, the abuses of this institution were most flagrant and most conspicuous. The same age furnished the materials for the immortal poem of Tasso, and for the inimitable ridicule of Cervantes. Nor is CHIVALRY. 125 it surprising that men, whose minds were not strengthened by real knowledge, and who had been accustomed to receive the legends of the Romish church as a part of their religious code, it is not surprising that men of this stamp should be led from ignorance to credulity, from daring valour to romantic enthusiasm. Their imagina- tion was alike bewildered and inflamed by the romance writers of the age, while their enthu- siasm stimulated them to those extravagant acts of generosity and gallantry, which have frequently subjected the institutions of chivalry to the at- tacks of ridicule and satire. But these extrava- gances were not the only abuses of the institution. Such is the nature of man, that, without the as- sistance of civil government, neither moral nor religious principles will of themselves be able, in every instance, to curb the indulgence of his appetites. Thus the moral lessons of chivalry, powerful as they were, had frequently no effect upon men who were superior to the dread of legal punishment, and who looked down with contempt on the laws of society.-— Hence the institution itself was often perverted, and applied to the worst of purposes. The castles of the barons were not uniformly the seats of hospitality and courtesy; and we must be cautious to dis- tinguish between the knight, loyal, just, and good ; and the wretch who, profaning the pure name of chivalry, nurtured within the walls of M 3 126 CHIVALRY. his fortress a horde of banditti, who infested the adjacent country with ravage and devastation. It must be allowed also, that this institution, by making arms the only profession worthy of a gentleman, acted as a check upon industry, and the cultivation of the peaceful arts, like their ancestors, " nihil neque publicae, neque privatae vei, nisi armati agebant," — but these were rather the vices of the times, which laws of the institu- tion were not calcvdated to reach, than the faults of the institution itself. It would be needless to describe the differ- ent appearances to which this institution gave rise in the different kingdoms of Europe. It is sufficient to state, that, notwithstanding all of the shades, the oi'iginal colours were every- where the same. The Spaniards in particular, in their long and frequent struggles with the Moors and Saracens, had received the impres- sion with the deepest dye, had this spirit in some degree necessary for the preservation of their political existence as a nation, and had advanced farther than every other people, in every charac- teristic fervour of chivalry. There is no doubt but that the discoveries made by the Spaniards and Portuguese towards the end of the fifteenth century were hastened by this cause, nor were its effects less visible in the romantic expeditions of the Pizarros, Cortes, and others of the early settlers in America. In CHIVALRY. 1^7 Spain, however, it may be doubted whether the effects of chivah'y have been akogether service- able to manners ; if the word of the Spaniards has been proverbial, so has their pride. The step from pride to indolence is natural and easy — hence a gloomy melancholy instead of cheerful- ness of disposition — hence formality and haughty reserve instead of grace and elegance of man- ners — hence a mixture of superstition and en- thusiasm have stamped the national character of this people. France and England also were kingdoms in which chivalry was much encouraged, and in which its good effects were most permanent and most remarkable. The former, at a very early period, contended with Germany for the invention of tournaments, and her most celebrated princes and peers were distinguished for their attain- ments in every knightly excellence. England, from the continental connections of her kings, her national emulation, soon imbibed this spirit from her rival. The celebrity of the English knights has not escaped the observation of Ari- osto, and tournaments were encouraged in this country by royal authority, expressly to instruct the people in the apprenticeship of war, and to avenge the insults of France. The amusements of a people always bear a reference to their manners ; men naturally mar- tial love to call to mind their darling passions 128 CHIVALRY. even in the days of peace. No secondary cause contributed more to the cuUivation of chivah-y than tournaments, and certainly no amusement could be better adapted to the genius of the times, or better calculated to give a proper bent to the passions of a restless and illiterate nobility, and to cherish and keep alive their prowess by a continuation of patient and laborious discipline. These also had their moral advantages. They humbled not the vanquished, but taught him rather to lessen his own defeat by doing full justice to the prowess of his adversary. They taught the conquerors likewise, that simplicity and modesty could alone add lustre to their vic- tory, and that humanity and generous treatment were the undoubted claims of the vanquished. Cumbersome too as the pageantry of these shows frequently was, it laid the foundation of modern taste and elegance. The splendour and parade of the ceremony, the fancy displayed in the choice of dresses and accoutrements, gave dignity to the spectacle. The aid of poetry too was called in, the principal achievements of the victorious knight were recorded in poems and songs, and blazoned abroad by minstrels in dis- tant courts. By no monarch were these entertainments celebrated, either so frequently or with more splendid magnificence, than by Edward the third of England ; and the encouragement given CHIVALRY. 129 to tliem was derived from the same maxims of policy and of prudence, which at all times di- rected the counsels of this wise and sagacious prince ; with him it was no idle pageantry, nor were the effects of chivalry ever better displayed, for at the same time when the valour of country- men was conspicuovis in the fields of Cressy and Poictiers, their generous behaviour to the vanquished is handed down to posterity, as an eternal record of English courtesy and humanity. To this splendid era we can refer the origin of the order of the Garter, which, at its first outset, was graced by the high character of the Black Prince, By whose light Did all the chivalry of England move To do great acts. Shakspeare, Henry IVth. by an Audley, a Neville, and a Chandos, alike in every enterprise, directed by prudence, supported by valour, and embellished by courtesy ; the de- light and flower of knighthood, and models worthy even the imitation of more enlightened ages. But the time was now advancing rapidly when chivalry was to feel the effects of the progress of civilization, and the general change of manners. This change is remarkable and striking, when we compare the age of the crusades with the time of Charlemagne, the former with the reign of Edward the third, that of Edward the third with the age 130 CHIVALRY. of Lewis the eleventh of France. But no where does this improvement more forcihly arrest the attention, than in a comparison of the situation of Europe, soon after the commencement of the sixteenth century, with any preceding period. Instead of those petty states, which had scarcely any dependence on the sovereign they pretended to acknowledge, and little acquaintance or con- nection with any event that happened beyond their own limits, the kingdoms of Europe were hastening to assume a form more solid and com- pact; and not only so, but many of them were forming themselves as it were into a system, in which the operations of one were felt by all. — Yet even then, that spirit of chivalry, which at its first outset had given so generous a cast to behaviour, which had introduced humanity and punctilio into the wars of petty princes, and pomp and ceremony into their courts, was still displaying itself, reduced indeed within narrower bounds, and seemed to animate and embellish every action, of what has so emphatically been called the Triumvirate of Kings. Henry the eighth excelled in the feats of arms, and in the personal accomplishments of knight- hood ; but Francis the first was a perfect model for the hero of romance, and was infinitely su- perior to Henry in the virtues of chivalry, as well as in his veneration for its exterior ceremonies; — witness his receiving the honour of knighthood CHIVALRY. 131 from the brave Bayard; — witness the challenge to single combat, which he sent to the emperor Charles ; — witness also his strict adherence to the point of lionour, when forgetful of ancient animosities and present subjects of dispute, he suffered his rival to pass through the heart of his kingdom without molestation. If greater proof of the improvement which had obtained in manners need be adduced, it will be sufficient to state, that two centuries back Du Gresslin, the most celebrated of knights, prided himself on his ignorance of letters, and looked down on mental qualifications with disdain ; whereas lord Surrey* was not only the most ac- complished knight, but the most accomplished scholar of his day. It is from this time, however, when the effects of chivalry on manners were most conspicuous, that we are to date the decline of the institution, which evidently began to take place ; the time was fast approaching when Europe was to feel every advantage of her situation, and to resume her former importance in the history of the world. A combination of circumstances had rendered the institution of chivalry no longer necessary. Fire arms had been invented, cavalry had ceased to be the strength of European armies, frequent * Matchless his pen, — victorious was his lance, Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance. 132 CHIVALRY. civil wars and long-protracted hostilities with the English had induced Charles the seventh of France to keep on foot regular bodies of militia, and his example had been eagerly followed by the sovereigns of other countries. — The reforma- tion had brought the Christian religion nearer to its primitive simplicity. — The genuine and uncorrupted sources of learning, which had long been buried in darkness, were now explored ; and, by means of a new institution, were dis- seminated with surprising rapidity throughout Europe. — Judicial combats had in general given way to the regular administration of justice. — Commerce, which had long been confined to the shores of the Mediterranean, was now eagerly cultivated by the Spanish, the Portuguese, and the English, and was every day opening new attractions for the active and speculative powers of man. In a word, the science of war was not the only one worthy of a gentleman, these generaj improvements had given rise to a distinction of professions, which had induced men to cultivate different talents, in order to qualify them for the different departments of civil society. It is to the cooperation of these powerful causes, rather than to the ridicule of Cervantes, or to the death of Henry the second which put a stop to tournaments in France, that we are to ascribe the decline of institutions which had long passed their meridian ; and though their parting CHIVALRY. 133 rays gilded the splendid reigns of our Elizabeth and of Henry the fourth of France, this may chiefly be ascribed to the romantic disposition of these great and enlightened sovereigns. Henry, by the model in his own person, preserved in his court the ancient spirit of chivalry ; and to his gallantry, to his humane though resolute disposi- tion, he was much indebted for the complete sway he obtained over a rebellious and misguided people. In England, though the shows of Kenilworth, the actions, writings, and character of sir Philip Sidney, are sufficient to mark the temper of Ehzabeth's court ; yet the words of lord Bacon bear express testimony to the disrepute into which the orders of chivalry had fallen. "There be," says that noble historian, "for martial amuse- ment, some degrees and orders of chivalry which nevertheless are bestowed promiscuously upon soldiers and no soldiers." One, indeed, and that the most ancient order of chivalry, still survives, and seems handed down to posterity as a monument to express the original features of these once celebrated institutions. In the island of Malta we find a body of men who are to this day governed by the strictest laws of chivalry, and in the spirit which there breathes, we cannot but trace that military fanaticism, and those romantic ideas of honour, which in former times made this order the bulwark of Christendom V. I. p. II. N 134 CHIVALRY. against the Turks and Saracens, and the nurse of a race of heroes, who successively distinguished themselves at Jerusalem, at Cyprus, and at Rhodes, and who, in the middle of the fifteenth century, baffled the most vigorous efforts that could be made to subdue them by the most powerful sovereign of the world. The peculiar cast of manners which had for so many centuries prevailed throughout Europe, naturally communicated themselves to the literary productions of the times, which in their turn con- tributed to the cultivation and embellishment of chivalry. The age of poetry has ever preceded that of history and philosophy ; and even in unlettered times, the rude song which was grateful, however, to the ears of the warrior, if it did but serve to record the triumphs and the exploits of himself, his country, and his ancestors, furnished the first materials for poetical composition. Such were the songs of the Troubadours, who, attended by their minstrels, frequented the hall of the feudal baron, and soothed or animated a martial and illiterate audience by a recital of the feats of chivalry ; and though they had neither language nor manners for great attempts, yet they retained a just cadence and return of verse in their stanzas, and their efforts, rude and imperfect as they were, may be considered as the harbingers of reviving poetry. CHIVALRY. 135 Next in succession to these were the writers of romance, a species of composition the genuine offspring of chivah'y, differing in style and senti- ment from anything with which the ancient world was ever acquainted ; and only calculated to ex- press an exact image of the virtues and vices of knighthood. Throughout all the fictions and fablings of this stamp, we can perceive a strong propensity to exaggeration, and a belief in magic, and the machinations of imaginary beings. Yet, as they serve to explain the nature of the feudal system, and as they point out the great object and direction of all the deeds of chivalry, they may be considered as useful records, and general outlines of the history of the times. Legends, romances, and fables, were the mines of which the first poets availed themselves to work out materials for their composition ; nor is it surprising, that the bad taste and popular su- perstition of the age frequently led them to mingle dross with the richest ore. The extravagant , fancy of Ariosto induced him to prefer the inco- herent tales of Bogardo to works of approved taste and standard excellence. Such also was the case with Tasso and with Spenser. But our own Milton will furnish even a stronger instance, in an age when the institutions of chivalry had altogether declined. Milton hesitated long whe- ther he should choose the Death of Arthur or the Fall of Man for the subject of his poem ; and 136 CHIVALRY. even when his choice was made, yet whilst he was fond to admiration of the purest models of clas- sical composition ; whilst he was impressed with the highest veneration for the holy truths of his religion, and for the sublimity of the prophetic style, he still loses no opportunity of recurring to his favourite theme, and dwells with pleasure on every allusion to stories " of knights and barons bold." It is probable too that stories of chivalry con- tributed to rouse and invigorate even the fertile invention of Shakspeare. Certain it is, that the uses and abuses of it alike furnished matter for his theme. On the latter, he ingrafted what has been called by Dryden and Addison the fairy kind of writing. Nothing but the strength of his imagination could have given dignity to the enchantments of his Prospero, and wild solemnity to the speeches of witches and fairies. From the splendid and stately shows of Elizabeth's reign, he drew materials for the pomps and processions with which his plays abound ; and well he knew the nature of mankind ; for on our stage, even in more enlightened days, the most elegant decla- mation and animated poetry will extract but cold applause, without the assistance of bustle and parade. Though he never closely imitated the romance writers of the age, he had well imbibed their spirit; indeed, he seems to have had every image of chivalry before his eyes, when he por- CHIVALRY. 137 trays the first appearance in arms of his favourite hero. I saw young Harry with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armed, Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vault up with such ease into his seat. As if an angel dropt down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship. The effects of chivahy on composition, as well as on manners, have survived the fall of the in- stitutions, and, to a certain degree, influence the writings of the present age. Novels are the genuine offspring of romances ; and it is per- haps owing to the remains of this spirit of chi- valry, that, on our stage, love is generally the mainspring of tragedy as well as of comedy; a passion of which the Athenian drama can scarcely be ever said to have availed itself. Thus we have seen chivalry spring up, as it were, providentially in the ages of turbulence and barbarism, supply the place of philosophy, and cooperate with the refinement of manners. We have seen it at its almost splendid period, and at the highest pitch of its extravagance. We have seen also the institutions, by which it was propagated, cherished, and kept alive, fall to the ground — while the spirit still survives, and has, for the two last centuries, given an elegant and cheerful turn to our conversation, writings, and n3 138 CHIVALRY. amusements ; and, next to our holy religion, has had the greatest influence in distinguishing mo- dern from ancient manners. Even to this day a strict adherence to the principles of chivalry, confined within their proper bounds, stamps the character of a gentleman ; — and the nobility of Europe look not only up to it as the source from which their titles and lineage are derived, but as the fountain from which all the gentler virtues and ornaments of life have uniformly flowed. JOSEPH PHILLIMORE, Student of Ch. Ch. 1798. ON THE UTILITY OF CLASSICAL LEARNING IN SUBSERVIENCY TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. Fvixvaaiov rjjc ^vxrjQ r) avQpMTrivrj 2o0ia, reXog St jj Qhci. El fitv ovv tan riq oiKtiorrjQ TrpoQ aXXryXovf roig Xoyoic (roig s^w Kui TOig itpoig') irpovpyov av y'lfiiv avTwv i) yi'tuaig ytvoiTO' ii dt fXT], aWa Toyt nap' aWriXa OtvTtQ, KarafiaQtiv to ha(ptgov, ov jiiKpov iiQ fitfSaiojaiv Tov (iiXriovog. ARGUMENT. Advantages arising from the connection between different branches of knowledge. Importance of the study of theology. Evils which result from entering on it with a mind entirely neglected, or partially cultivated. General effects of classical learning on the mind the best preparation for theological pursuits. Necessity of an accjuaint- ance with the Greek language in the study of the Scriptures. Ad- vantages which follow in this study from a critical knowledge of the Greek tongue, and an intimate acquaintance with classical philo- logy. Confirmation of the Mosaic history from Grecian mythology, and the opinions of philosophers. The Greek and Roman historians useful, as thej convey to us the history of the world, from the dis- persion of mankind to the introduction of Christianity— enable us to compare the prophecies of Scripture with the event — confirm the history of the New Testament— afford interesting information with respect to the state of the world at our Saviour's birth. An ac- quaintance with ancient philosophy (particularly the Platonic) useful fiom the connection between it and Christianity in the first ages of the Church — proves the necessity of revelation. Utility of an acquaintance with the ethical writings of antiquity. Objections against the application of ancient learning to theology refuted by an historical view of their connection. Recapitulation. Conclusion. ON THE UTILITY OF CLASSICAL LEARNING IN SUBSERVIENCY TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. The connection which exists between the dif- ferent departments of science, by which they re- flect hght on each other, as it muUiphes the sources of innocent enjoyment, and at the same time assists the viseftd labours of the learned, may justly be ranked among the benevolent appoint- ments of Providence. Were the various branches of human knowledge entirely insulated, were it impossible to deviate from the line of study which leads to our particular profession, without mate- rially impeding our progress, this single object would demand, in exclusion of every other, an undivided attention : our journey through the fair regions of science would be confined and irksome ; and if we were sometimes tempted to leave the direct road, in order to take a nearer survey of the surrounding beauties, our curiosity might occasion a delay, which no exertion could retrieve. But the case is happily reversed ; for if our literary employments are judiciously con- 142 CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT ducted, we may exercise and enlarge the faculties of the mind, by the acquisition of various informa- tion, which will, either directly or indirectly, con- tribute to our success in those studies to which we are more immediately devoted. There is, indeed, no liberal profession in which the mind is competent to engage, before it has been enlarged, refined, and fitted for it by pre- vious discipline. If this is essential in pursuits which are comparatively insignificant, it must be indispensably requisite that we should prepare ourselves by a due cultivation of the intellectual faculties, for those inquiries which relate to the divine source from whence they are derived. The greatest philosophers of antiquity con- sidered the contemplation of the Supreme Being as the noblest employment of the human intellect. And yet they were directed only by the uncertain glimmerings of reason ; we are guided by the sure light of divine revelation : they could only infer his goodness towards man from the general laws by which he governs the material world ; we view him in those mild and interesting relations to mankind, which he has made known in the benevolent scheme of Christianity. Nor is the study of theology confined to a mere speculative contemplation of the Deity. To examine with an unbiassed judgment the evidence for the divine origin of the Christian faith, to obtain a full ac- quaintance with its doctrines and precepts, and TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 143 to furnish himself with all the means which may assist him in evincing their truth, and enforcing their superior excellences, — these are the high duties of the theological student. To the evils which arise from entering abruptly on these serious studies, without the necessary aids of human learning, experience bears abun- dant testimony. It has proved that the vigour of untutored genius only gives the power of pur- suing error with perverted activity, and of more effectually extending its influence over others ; while the fervour of piety, undirected by the prudent government of a cultivated understand- ing, either degenerates into the follies of super- stition, or hurries us into the transports of enthu- siasm. The effects which frequently follow a partial cultivation of the intellectual powers are equally dangerous. Natural philosophy, since it is calculated to give a more enlarged idea of the wisdom, power, and goodness of the Creator, de- serves attention, as preparatory to the study of divinity : in the same point of view, mathematical science is not without its use ; for it imparts ac- curacy, strength, and soundness to the reasoning faculty. It should, however, be remembered, that natural philosophy, or mathematical science, if exclusively or intemperately pursued, has a very pernicious tendency. The former, by ha- bituating the mind, thus employed on secondary causes, to the consideration of matter alone, may 144 CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT render it sceptical or indifferent with regard to the agency of that great Being, by whom matter is endued with its properties. The latter, as it accustoms the understanding to demonstrative proof, may disqualify it for duly estimating the force of that moral evidence, of which only re- ligion can admit. But if an enlarged and general cultivation of ancient literature be united with these studies, by counteracting their injurious tendencies, it will ensure the beneficial effects for which they have very justly been recommended. The happy in- fluence of a classical education is universally and proportionably felt throughout the different facul- ties of the mind ; it enlivens the imagination, re- fines the taste, and strengthens the powers of the judgment; in a word, it tends more than any other study to preserve that just equilibrium among the mental powers, which, as it is most favourable to virtue and to happiness", is also the best preservative against prejudice and error. Christianity, although it challenges the strictest scrutiny of reason, yet at the same time power- fully appeals to the affections of the heart ; and certainly a very important object is attained, if the mind, before it is sufficiently advanced to enter on the study of theology, has I'eceived that general culture, w hich gives to both their propor- * Stewart's Thilosophy of the Mind. TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 145 tionate influence. Such consequences may be expected from a classical education, which will thus animate the exertions of the student, by in- teresting the best feelings of his nature in the cause of his profession, while it subjects them to the control of an enlightened and manly under- standing. Having considered the general influence of classical learning on the mind, as preparing it for an effectual and judicious prosecution of theolo- gical inquiries, we may proceed to point out some of the most eminent advantages it affords, when we are actually engaged in these inquiries. It may appear almost superfluous to insist on the necessity of some proficiency in the Greek language before we attempt to make the New Testament an object of professional study, when we reflect, that, even in the tongue to which we have been accustomed from our earlier years, dif- ferent interpretations may often be annexed to the same words. As this ambiguity is consider- ably increased in a dead language, not only is every translation, however faithfully and judi- ciously executed, liable to positive error, but it is also, in many instances, impossible to transfuse the precise meaning of the original into another language, without either deficiency or excess .• in so serious a matter, therefore, as religion, a con- scientious man, who is intended for the sacred ministry, and whose duty it is to examine at- V, I. p. II, 146 CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT teiitively the history, the doctrines, and precepts of revelation, can never .feel satisfied, unless he is able to form his own opinion of them by an acquaintance with the language in which they are conveyed. But if it be acquired merely from the sacred volume, his knowledge of the text will be imperfect and incorrect. The inspired writers have not unfvequently made use of a particular term, in order to express by analogy a new idea ^, and as they employ the word occasionally in the proper sense, if unacquainted with classical Greek, we are liable to the error of applying the theological meaning, where the primitive signi- fication is required. Sacred criticism withholds its treasures from those who have not acquired some share of classical information. Unable, in obscure and disputed passages, to weigh the comparative merit of different interpretations, they must remain unsatisfied, or, by trusting implicitly to the authority of others, incur the danger of adopting erroneous opinions. While from these observations it appears suffi- ciently obvious that the theological student cannot effectually prosecute his studies without some degree of classical learning, it is no less certain that a critical knowledge of the Greek language, and an intimate acquaintance with ancient lite- '' Michffilis, Introduction to the Study of the New Testament ; where it is instanced in the word TriVne, to which may be added ayytXog, £idfio\og, etc. TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 147 ratiire, open a most interesting source of useful information in the study of the Scriptures. The keenness of sarcastic censure has been very in- discriminately applied to philological pursuits. When they revolve in their own narrow circle, and are considered as an end, they are indeed contemptible ; they may weaken and contract the powers of the mind, and by their very nature encourage arrogance and conceit : but when cultivated in subserviency to studies of higher importance, and, above all, when applied by piety and judgment to elucidate and confirm the sacred volume, they derive dignity, and demand attention, by reason of their beneficial tendency. The strong internal evidence which the Jewish Sci'iptures bear to their high antiquity, is strikingly apparent to those who are conversant with the writings of the earlier Greeks. Their style ex- hibits a surprising resemblance to the phrase- ology of the Old Testament ; and many of its obscurities, which arise from our ignorance of ancient manners and customs, may be illustrated by means of these authors'^. Numberless ex-r pressions in the New Testament must be ex- plained by means of the Greek writers : nor can the spirit and peculiar beauty of classical allusions be felt, except by those who are familiar with classical antiquity. The scholar pictures to him- <= Michnelis. 148 CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT self, ill lively colours, the great apostle of the Gentiles, reasoning at Athens, the most illustrious seat of ancient wisdom, as a philosopher among philosophers, before the venerable tribunal of the Areopagus ; he listens with a more awakened interest to the animated and appropriate elo- quence of the sacred orator, declaring to the Athenians the living and true God, whom they ignorantly worshipped : while the fact is authen- ticated by the impressive mention of the altar dedicated to the unknown god, and the accurate knowledge which is shown of the Athenian cha- racter. How energetically and how beautifully does the same apostle allude to the celebrated games of ancient Greece ! But the force and beauty of the allusion are feebly felt by those who are unacquainted with the toilsome prepara- tions to which they who strove for victory sub- mitted ; the ardour with which the combatants were animated in the presence of assembled Greece, the uncertainty of their success, and the trifling reward which recompensed the exertions of the conqueror. The treasures of ancient literature, which the scholar has made his own in his intercourse with the classical authors, are also of important service in many other departments of theological in(}uiry : even the pleasing fables of their poets, which amused his youthful fancy, will not be without their utility. TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 149 Grecian mythology is conceived with a warmth of imagination pecuhar to that hvely people ; and it has been adorned by their poets with the most brilliant colouring of fiction : these, combined w'.tli other circumstances, render it impossible to give a minute explanation of the subject. The ardour of many pious and learned men, Avho have laboured to promote the interests of religion, has, in this instance, often bordered on enthusiasm .* with a design of doing honour to the Jewish history, they have endeavoured to explain, by means of it, the whole system of Grecian theo- gony. According to them, the patriarchs and illustrious men of the Jewish nation were deified and worshipped by the Greeks : and in order to obviate the difficulty which arises from the num- ber of the Grecian deities'^, and the paucity of the Jewish worthies, they have discovered that each of the latter was adored under various titles ; and have traced ingenious but fanciful resemblances between the individual and the deities whom they supposed to represent him. We may, however, without injury to the cause of religion, allow the earlier Greeks to have felt towards those of their countrymen who con- tributed, in an eminent degree, to the public welfare, by their mental or bodily exertions, a warmth of gratitude natural to barbarous nations, ^ Warburton's Divine Legation. o3 150 CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT which induces them to enrol the good, the valiant, and the wise, among their tutelary divi- nities. We may allow them to have viewed the powers and appearances of nature with that admiration, which prompts the savage to people every element with imaginary heings, and to address them, under various titles, as the objects of religious worship. But Grecian mythology, although it does not admit of such fanciful con- jectures, yet powerfully confirms the truth of the Mosaic records, by its wonderful agreement with them, as far as they relate to the general history of the world. The account of the creation of the world, and the formation of man, which we receive from the Greek and Roman poets, strikingly corresponds with the sober narrative of Scripture. That happy period, emphatically styled the Golden Age, when man was free from vice, and unac- quainted with the miseries which now fall to the lot of human nature ; when the serenity of the sky, and the vernal mildness of the atmosphere, yielded him perpetual delight ; while the earth poured forth her fruits for his sustenance, with- out subjecting him to the toils of agriculture ; since it is applicable to no subsequent state of society, can only be considered as a poetical description of the happiness which our first parents enjoyed in the garden of Eden. The age of iron, which succeeded when this blissful TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 151 state was entirely reversed, must refer to the fatal consequences which followed the disobe- dience of man. A calamity so dreadful and so general as the deluge, would never, we may sup- pose, have been entirely effaced from the memory of any race of men ; accordingly we find that it forms a prominent feature in the traditions of antiquity. The early Greeks, as was natural to a barbarous people, applied it to their own nation, and blended it with the history of Thes- saly*, a country peculiarly subject to inundation, and remarkable for its lofty mountains. In the finely-imagined fable of the goddess Iris, who was the daughter of Wonder, and the messenger between gods and men, some allusion may be discovered to the first appearance of the rain- bow : the scholar indeed must be particularly struck with Homer's expression, when, describing the armour of Agamemnon, he thus speaks of this beautiful phenomenon : — Kva'vEOi ci£ SpoLKOvTiQ ojowps^^aro Tvon Seiprji> Tptig, tKUTipff "IpKTciv EoiKOTeg, aart Kpovicov 'Ev ve(pti ffrnpiKe TEPAS MEPOnQN ANGPOnQN. The researches of the learned in the east show, that the same resemblance exists in oriental tra- ditions ; they also prove, that these traditions were received too generally, and at too early a period, to have been derived from the narrative e Herod, lib. 7. 152 CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT of the Jewish lawgiver; wlience we may, with much probahility, infer, that the great outlines of classical mythology also were not borrowed from Judaea, but were imperfect remains of universal tradition, which was gradually so disguised by fabulous intermixture, that its real origin was forgotten, and it was applied by the barbarian to his own or neighbouring nations. From this combined testimony of Grecian and oriental mythology, an irresistible body of evi- dence has been formed in confirmation of the Mosaic history. Since these traditions were not derived from the sacred historian ^ and since we cannot suppose, that, from a partial knowledge of these mystic fables, he could have framed an account which equally explains them all, we must acknowledge the truth of his relation, and believe that he received his information from the Deity. In a more advanced period of history, we learn, that an insatiable thirst after knowledge tempted the sages of Greece to leave the retirement of philosophic contemplation, and travel into foreign countries, in order to observe the religion, laws, and manners of other nations, and to profit by their wisdom. It was at this period that, through the medium of Egypt, the philosophers of Greece gained an imperfect acquaintance with the Jewish Scriptures. The divine Plato was thus enabled, f Pretyman's Theology. S TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 153 in some degree, to explain the leading features of the national mythology. His sublime, though imperfect, conceptions of the creation, the happy state and subsequent misery of mankind, and the corruption of their moral and intellectual powers, strikingly correspond with the Mosaic account. He ^ also, with other Greek authors, refers to a general deluge, which almost destroyed the whole race of man, and effaced the remembrance of the arts and sciences, which flourished before this event. To'' the truth of these things, says the philosopher (where he describes the happiness of primeval man, and attempts to explain the causes of the change which followed), to the truth of these things we have the testimony of our ancestors, whom many at the present time do not believe ; but in this they are wrong. After the dispersion of the human race in the plains of Shinar, history no longer flows in the same broad channel ; and the Jewish Scriptures are chiefly confined to one of the many families of the earth. From this era to the introduction of Christianity, our historical information must be derived from the Greek and Roman writers, who convey to us a variety of interesting know- ledge, which throws hght on the connected schemes of the Christian and Jewish dispensa- tions. While in the sacred volume we follow, s Plato de Legibus, lib. 3. •• Politicus, 154 CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT through the various periods of their eventful history, the people who were the peculiar care of Providence, we may turn to the page of the classical historian, and view the most enlightened nations of the heathen world (who in times of remote antiquity possessed a purer system of re- ligious worship) immersed in the grossest idolatry. This is certainly a strong argument, that the Jews were immediately under the government of the true God ; for, though prone to idolatry, and exposed to its contagious influence, they still acknowledged the unity and spirituality of the Sovereign Ruler of the universe, and paid him that rational adoration which he claims from a rational creature. The Jewish Scriptures however do not ex- clusively relate to that favoured people. The fate of other nations, and the rise and fall of mighty empires, form the awful subject of their prophetic writings. Prophecy, although it only partially penetrates the obscurity of the future, yet gives a view of those leading and peculiar circumstances which strongly characterize the events foretold ; it is the meteor, which, amid the darkness of the night, illumines the bolder and more prominent features of the landscape. Prophecy ' is history compressed ; history is pro- phecy unfolded ; and the faithful records of past » Bishop Newton on the Prophecies. To THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 155 transactions furnish an unerring guide, by which the claims to prophetic inspiration are to be ad- mitted or rejected. The want of eastern his- tories is, in a great measure, supphed by the researches of the Greeks ; whose testimony is the more valuable, as tliey were unacquainted with the prophetic writings, and were therefore un- biassed by prejudice. The prophecies which relate to the nations of the east may be com- pared with the event, through the medium of Diodorus Siculus, of Herodotus, and Xenophon ; nor must it be forgotten that the figurative language of inspiration, with regard to the two great empires, which succeeded to the dominion of the world, can only be explained by continual reference to ancient history. The New Testament, when considered in an historic;"^ light, receives very important con- firmation from the Roman historians. From them we learn, that, at the time of ovir Saviour's birth, a general expectation of some extraordi- nary personage prevailed throughout the east; whence we may infer, that at this momentous period, the Jews looked for the completion of those prophecies which related to the Messiah. Tacitus records the birth and ignominious death of the Divine Author of our religion. The suf- ferings of the primitive Christians, and the won- derful propagation of Christianity, are authen- ticated by historical narration : to which we may 15G CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT add the evidence of Pliny, whose public capacity demanded the greatest accuracy of information, and who also bears honourable testimony to the innocence of life which distinguished the followers of Christ. That acquaintance with the state of the world at the introduction of Christianity, which may be gathered from the writers of imperial Rome, sug- gests, as connected with revelation, many useful and interesting reflections. Under the politic government of Augustus, the world enjoyed uni- versal tranquillity. Imposture, which might have escaped detection amid the tumult of arms, or practised its frauds with success in the darkness of ignorance, must have shrunk from the keen eye of investigation, or have been exposed to public derision in this calm and enlightened season of peace and of philosophy. But as it was adverse to the arts of falsehood, so, on the other hand, it was most favourable to the sim- plicity of truth, which challenges the strictest scrutiny of reason ; the introduction of Chris- tianity therefore, at this time, effectually obviated those objections, which might have been made use of to invalidate its truth, had it been es- tablished in an ignorant age. It is also worthy of observation, that, notwith- standing the intellectual excellence of this period, vice reigned triumphant throughout the world ; thus it was incontestably proved, that the unas- TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 157 sisted powers of human reason, however culti- vated, were insufficient to enforce the practice of virtue. It must be indeed acknowledged, that the in- fluence of learning, during the earlier ages of the church, was in some respects injurious to the true interests of religion. The convert to Chris- tianity was often found among those who had been nurtured in the schools of ancient wisdom ; and the defender of revelation applied himself to the study of philosophy, that he might be better qualified to maintain the truth with effect. The former, unable to eradicate those prejudices of education which had twined their roots with all the principles of his nature, ingrafted truth upon the stock of error ; from which unhallowed union motley and corrupted systems of religion were produced. The latter, having derived much important assistance from his researches, and being struck with a partial coincidence between revelation and philosophy, sometimes allowing his gratitude and admiration to exceed the due limits, incorporated the imperfect, and, in many respects, erroneous opinions of the heathen sages with the pure doctrines of the Gospel. It is our happiness, that we are not at the present period exposed to these dangerous consequences from the philosophical writings of antiquity. These monuments of ancient virtue and of ancient wis- dom, are now estimated as they should be : the V. I. p. II. p 158 CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIEN\. warmth of passion is mellowed by the progress of time into the calmness of regard ; and we view philosophy with the same feelings, with which we remember those who have been long since dead ; we know and admire its excellences, but we are not bhnd to its defects. Tlie relation indeed which it formerly bore to religion, and the evils which their connection occasioned, render it very serviceable in the study of theology. The ablest champions of the truth, in the first ages of the church, employed in its defence the same weapons with which it had been, attacked ; and have made that judicious use of ancient philosophy, which requires that we should have gained no incon- siderable proficiency in it, if we wish duly to appreciate the value, and feel the full force of their writings. The doctrines of Plato particularly deserve attention ; in the infancy of the church they claimed a decided superiority in the public opinion over every other system ; and as they approached more nearly than any other to the purity of revelation, they were the favourite study of the learned Christian. Many of the earlier writers on sacred subjects, who were, in some instances, misled by an unbounded attachment to Platonism, give very important theological in- formation : and in examining the heresies which arose in the primitive ages from an injudicious mixture of the Platonic tenets, we must be fully TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 159 acquainted with the cause, before we attempt to consider the effect. We learn from the annais of the world, that before the dawn of revelation the bulk of mankind were addicted to the grossest errors of idolatrous worship : but it is to philosophy that we must recur, to be fully impressed with the necessity of revelation, by observing the insufficiency of hu- man reason to introduce a purer system of theo- logy. The day-spring from on high only could dispel the gloom of intellectual darkness, in which religion was involved ; a darkness which the wisest of the Greek and Roman philosophers en- deavoured in vain to penetrate. With regard to the unity of the Godhead, and his superintending providence, not only were their opinions confused and contradictory ; but it appears also to have been a fundamental principle with them, not to attempt the reformation of popular prejudices, nor to encourage the visionary hope of accommo- dating their speculations to the understanding of the multitude. On the future state of the soul they spoke boldly, who spoke of eternal death : the virtuous and enlightened few, who indulged the cheering prospect of immortality, yet trembled lest their hopes should prove unfounded ; and, while they endeavoured to satisfy their reason by the subtil- ties of metaphysical refinement, they bewildered themselves, and weakened the common sense of IGO CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT nature in the minds of others. Could genius and virtue have estabhshed this important truth, no fears would have mingled with the last hopes of Socrates, no doubts have disturbed the lofty meditations, which dignified the retirement of Cicero. Before we turn to the ancient systems of moral philosophy, and consider their utility as sub- servient to theological studies, it may not be un- necessary to observe, that the precepts of the Gospel ai*e sufficiently explicit to regulate the conduct of mankind. In the energetic language of a great moralist, " they tend immediately to the rectification of the moral principle, and the direction of daily conduct, without ostentation, without art, at once irrefragable and plain, such as well-meaning simplicity can readily conceive, and of which we cannot mistake the meaning, but when we are afraid to find it." But they, whose duty it is to study religion as a profession, should not reject the aids of human learning, nor despise the useful information which may be gathered from the ethical writings of antiquity. It does not appear to have been the intention of the divine Author of our rehgion to give mankind a system of morality. He does not accurately un- fold the nature of vice and virtue, or subdivide them minutely into their different species. Reve- lation was intended to assist, not to supersede, the use of reason ; to correct its errors, and TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 161 supply its deficiencies. The pure lessons of mo- rality, which the Scriptures teach, cannot be so thoroughly understood, nor can their useful ten- dency be so evident, unless we are acquainted with the minute and comprehensive systems, for which we are indebted to the ancients. Their errors and defects are such, as we naturally ex- pect would attend the speculations of unenlight- ened reason, and of virtue unassisted by divine wisdom : these, revelation has fully corrected and supplied. The greater, the more awful, and the more brilliant virtues were chiefly recommended by philosophy. It remained for a better phi- losophy to encourage those milder and more amiable feelings, which, although before consi- dered as weaknesses, are, in reality, the most convincing proofs of a manly, an enlightened, and benevolent mind. The ancient sages saw, that a moral plan of conduct could not be steadily pur- sued, if it did not aim at some ultimate object, to the attainment of which every action should be directed. Thus far they were right : but when they endeavoured to supply the deficiency by the introduction of their chief good, their opinions were almost infinitely varied : each sect gave a bias to some different end, and all was error and ilncertainty. Revelation only could discover to erring man that powerful inducement to a vir- tuous life, which has an equal influence on the minds of all. Revelation only could discover to p3 162 CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT US, that on our temporal conduct our eternal hap- piness must depend. Thus giving to its precepts a sanction above the reach of human wisdom, it has confirmed those hopes on which the wise and virtuous delight to dwell — those better hopes, which in our happier hours give a tone to our finest and most rational enjoyments, and in the season of melancholy console us amidst the afflic- tions of this transitory scene, by opening to our view the brighter regions of eternity. Philosophy, with some few honourable ex- ceptions, appears contemptuously to have re- jected the idea of future punishment, of which the vulgar retained some corrupted notions. How great is our astonishment and regtet, when we find that Cicero reasons against the fear of death, on the supposition that the soul either ceases to exist after the dissolution of the body, or is not liable to misery or punishment in a future state ! Having thus considei'ed some of the useful lights which classical learning furnishes in the study of divinity, in order to be satisfied, that the general tenor of these observations is well founded, and to silence the clamours which ignorance and fanaticism have raised against the application of ancient literature to religion, it may not be altogether useless to trace them in their connection, and observe the consequences which this connection has produced. TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 163 Christianity, when first revealed by infinite wisdom to mankind, had to struggle not only against civil authority, but also against habitual prepossessions : there were no worldly motives, which could induce men to adopt it ; on the contrary, ignominy and persecution awaited its followers. But the rays of revelation beamed conviction on minds which learning had prepared for the reception of truth : and Christianity soon ranked orators and philosophers among its adhe- rents. Thus was the propagation of religion advanced by the happy influence of learning; and to this source the defenders of the truth applied for the means of maintaining it with effect ; nor did the assistance which they derived from the Greek and Roman writers escape the malignant vigilance of Julian, who endeavoured, by an imperial edict, to wrest these authors from their hands. The ages of darkness which followed the down- fal of the Roman empire, present a degrading picture of the human mind. When polished and lettered nations are overwhelmed by the barba- rous and unlearned, they usually have their turn of victory, and subdue the ferocity of their con- querors, by introducing among them civility and learning. But in order to produce this desirable effect, it is necessary that the former should have so far emerged from the savage state, as to feel their comparative inferiority, and to perceive. \Gi CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT that mere animal courage will not fit them for that rank in the creation to which they were destined hy their Maker. Unhappily for Europe, this was not the case with the barbarous hordes who crushed the Roman power: inured to the toils of war, in these they placed their glory and delight, despising the learning and civihty of those whom they had so easily subdued. In a short space of time almost every vestige of learn- ing disappeared in Europe. Christianity severely felt the blow. Although its doctrines and its precepts are delivered with a simplicity and pre- cision, which should have prevented corruption, it degenerated, during these ages of darkness, into the grossest superstition, and was disgraced by the monstrous errors of the Romish church. To the barbarous custom, which at this time pre- vailed among the monks, of erasing the works of the Greek and Roman wi'iters from the manu- script, in order to substitute the legends of their saints, we may ascribe the loss of many valuable compositions of antiquity. Thus did superstition rise on the ruins of classical learning. On the revival of learning the absurdities of the scholastic theology were successfully ridiculed and exposed by Erasmus, and other writers, dis- tinguished for the cultivation of ancient litera- ture ; and in the sixteenth century the authors of ancient Greece and Rome were made public, with all the ardour of literary zeal, by men of TO THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 165 erudition and piety, who considered themselves as promoting the cause of rehgion by the diffusion of classical knowledge. The writings of the New Testament, which had before been wholly neg- lected or absurdly explained, were now consulted with due respect, and their meaning illustrated by men eminent for their critical abilities. Chris- tianity progressively recovered its original purity under the auspices of ancient learning ; to the revival of which we must consider ourselves in a great measure indebted for the reformation. From that period to the present, it has been successfully employed in confirming the truth of Scripture, in confuting the impiety of the atheist, and in exposing the sophistry of the infidel : and in our own country, amongst other distingviished scholars, Stillingfleet, Bentley, and Cudworth, have consecrated classical learning to the service of religion. From the view which has been taken of ancient learning in its subserviency to theological studies, it has appeared, that the general effects thereby produced on the mind, are peculiarly adapted to prepare it for these serious inquiries. We have seen that the sacred volume Avhich contains the truths of revelation, is studied more effectually, and with greater interest, by those who are most accurately acquainted with the Greek language* and most profoundly skilled in ancient literature. We have seen also, that the mythology, the 16G CLASSICAL LEARNING SUBSERVIENT, ETC. history, the philosophical and ethical opinions of the ancients, illustrate and confirm the true re- ligion : and, in order to obviate the cavils with which classical learning has been attacked, we have called upon experience to show that its influence on theology has ever produced the happiest effects. Inquiries of this nature are peculiarly calcu- lated to promote the great ends of a classical education, when intended as preparatory to the study of theology. By exhiljiting steadily and precisely to the mind the relation which the different departments of classical learning bear to this their common object, they must prevent any intemperate attachment to these secondary pur- suits ; and while the literature of antiquity still bestows the gratifications and advantages which are more immediately its own, it derives new dignity and importance from its essential utility in those sublimer studies which raise the mind of man to the Author of his being. A. D. HENDY, Oriel Coll. 1804. A SENSE OF HONOUR. SANS PEUR, ET SANS REPRUCHE. VIE DU CHEV. BAYARD. In deciding on the merit of any principle of action, two material questions will arise. The one whether the motives themselves are consonant to reason and religion, the other, whether the effects are generally conducive to the happiness of mankind. For though good may accidentally proceed from evil, the evil is not therefore justi- fied; and when, on the other hand, good does not follow, we must presume with equal reason, that the principle itself is vicious or mistaken. In conformity to these rules, it will be proper to examine, first the nature and propriety of a Sense of Honour, and then submit its merits to the final test of tried and general utility. To arrive at a knowledge of the first, little more perhaps is necessary than calmly and dis- passionately to look round on the practice of the world, and appeal to our own reason and ex- perience for the causes of what we see and feel. 168 A SENSE OF HONOUR. If we separate our ideas of honour from their pohtical trappings and accidental varieties, if we reduce its laws to their simple and original principles, we shall find, that they have all a common and manifest dependence on that sort of educated self-love, which when excessive we stigmatize by the name of pride", as we do its opposite extreme by the reproach of meanness ''. I call it educated, because it is not like the appetites immediately derived from the bodily wants or propensities (the only senses which are properly speaking natural), but from an acquired and artificial combination of these, which it seems the earliest business of education to produce, to stimulate, and apply. It would in fact be easy to show that this principle, like every other, is generated by the external operation of pleasure or pain; and that pride '^, and honour, and am- bition, with all their kindred habits, are little more than a very simple modification of hope. Be that however as it may, it is unquestionable, that by whatever means we acquire it, the habit of self-respect is productive of very remarkable and advantageous effects on the human mind. So much may at least be inferred from the general sentiments and experience of the world. Even those who abound the most in unmeaning invec- Search Light of Nature, vol. ii, p. 134. c A SENSE OF HONOUR. 169 tive against what they call pride and the selfish '^ principle, are themselves obliged to submit to the uncontrolable laws of human nature, and human feelings. — If not in theory, at least in practice, by endearments, by distinctions, and by rewards, they too find it necessary to train up youth to the desire of praise, and teach them to feel the luxury of self-approbation. For praise ', and external distinctions, are only so far agreeable, as they confirm us in our own esteem, — all indeed that they really inform us of, is, that we are justified in maintaining high thoughts of ourselves, and may reasonably expect from the world, that love, that reverence, and all those other advantages, which we are taught to consider as the peculiar birthright of merit. In the first stage of this habit of self-respect, it is from an anticipation of these advantages that all our pleasure is derived, till, at length, the combi- nation of ideas becomes less perceptible, and from the satisfaction which we habitually feel on re- •* Aristotle seems however to have clearly understood that we ought to direct self-love, not extinguish it. — — d yap TiQ ad OTrovSa^oi rd SiKaia vparreip, avTOQ jioKiUTa TrdvTwv. — ovdslg tpsi tovtov (piKavrov, ovVi i\/k^ii, Ao^eie c' dv 6 TOiovrog tlvai ndXkov (piXavroQ' aTrovkfiei yovv kavT(f tu KoKXiura Kai fidXidTa dyaQd, (cat ^^pt'^srat iavrov tc^ KvpiuiTaTtfi. Ethic, ix. The inference then will be that we ought x«'ps'''0«' otj Sti. ^ 'Eoi'icaffi Ti)v Ti^ujv CiuiKHv, 'iva TTiaTtvuiaiv tavrovg dvai ciyaQoi'Q. Ethic, i. V. I. P. II. Q 170 A SENSE OF HONOUR. ceiving it, the promissory note is itself considered as sterling. Having thus ascertained its leading principles, the definition of a sense of honour is easy and obvious. Honour then is a pleasurable reflection on our own merit, occasioned by the knowledge of our claim on the love and reverence of the world. It differs indeed from virtue, as the hopes on which it is founded are more gross and more uncertain, but it agrees with it, both as de- riving, like virtue, its immediate reward from the heart, and as, when well directed, producing for the most part a similar effect on the conduct. I say when well directed, because it must occasion- ally happen, that by a faulty or too narrow per- ception of utility, the stream of honour may be poisoned at its very source, and a local or mis- taken interest preferred to the broad principles of general justice and expediency. It is thus we must account for that unavoidable difference of sentiment which some have endeavoured to illus- trate by distinctions of true and false honour; but which, as it leans not on positive but relative merit, is by its nature as variable as the wants and wishes of mankind, and receives a bias from every indefinite circumstance of time, of climate, and of government ^ When well directed, how- ' "On £' av v7ro\a/3y n'/tiov tlvai t6 Kvptov, civdyKt) Ka'i tuv rwv aXXwr TToXiraJv to'iav uKoKovQtiv tovtoiq. Polit ii. A SENSE OF HONOUR. 171 ever (and its dii'ection is very seldom entirely pernicious), few arguments should seem necessary to prove the advantage of a reward thus cheap, a motive thus effectual. If we were only roused to action by the pro- spect of immediate gratification, and the pressure of immediate pain, virtue, alike, and enterprise were at an end. We see it daily and hourly in those in whom the faculty we are now discussing is faint or extinguished. Their views are short and indistinct, their hopes and wishes grovelling, their actions without vigour, and the whole system of their energies paralyzed by a sullen and indo- lent content. But thus, by a happy and even imperceptible combination of ideas, our desires are extended to a larger field, our self-love ac- quires a nobler appearance, and for our own sake (if I may be allowed the expression) we are in- duced to disregard ourselves. It is true that this, correctly speaking, is the appropriate province of reason ; but in the weak- ness and short-sightedness of human nature, we cannot but discover the force and utility of this species of auxiliary influence, of which the motive is always at hand, and which derives a never- failing influence from the very consciousness of our own existence. We must not, however, confound a sense of honour with the indolent and lonely pride of the Epicurean divinities. Self-respect, without re- 172 A SENSE OF HONOUR. ference to the rest of mankind, either never existed at all, or only where the understanding has been impaired. Founded originally on the opinion of others, to that opinion it must always appeal, and must purchase by courtesy, by kind- ness, and by self-denial, that friendship and ap- plause which alone can confirm and justify the secret exultations of the heart. Nor can this deference to the feelings and un- derstandings of our fellow-creatures be consi- dered as a slavish or imprudent submission. While we acknowledge the occasional blindness of popular sentiment, let it not be forgotten, that its general tendency, and especially upon subjects connected with private morals, has been always favourable to virtue. I know not whether we are to ascribe this fortunate agreement to the dictates of long and universal experience, or whether we must not rather seek its cause in that artless instinct of morality, that native perception of right and wrong, which would, if real, identify, without a rhetorical figure, the voice of the people with the voice of God. Nor is it only by an appeal to our hopes and wishes, that a sense of honour maintains its in- fluence. Shame, which may be defined the sor- row of pride, is a feeling so strange and so ter- rible, that while every other suffering may be endured with firmness, or thought of with indif- ference, this is the only punishment which no A SENSE OF HONOUR. 173 strength can sustain, no power avert, to which the greatest are not supei'ior, and of which the boldest will confess their fears. Such are the rewards, and such the penalties, of a sense of honour ; the extent of their power may be estimated by their effects. Whole years, nay, whole lives, of labour and misery, are spent not only with cheerfulness, but delight, in com- pliance with these extraordinary feelings. Other principles of action have some one peculiar object, of which the attainment or frustration will con- clude at once their hopes and anxieties. But of honour alone can it be said, that its pursuits and pleasures are alike interminable. When every other motive or argument is exhausted, our daily experience proves that the sense of honour can subsist in its utmost vigour. When Caesar de- spaired of life, he expressed, by his gestures, a wish to fall with dignity. But it is not only in such characters as Caesar that we recognise its wonderful influence. It may be traced in every desire, every thought, that looks to the ap- plause or advantage of posterity ; in public or private monuments ; in the cares of a funeral ; and all those other solicitudes, which extend to a period when we shall ourselves be no longer sen- sible of either pleasure or pride. Nor can there be a greater evidence of the efficacy of these excellent motives, than that the feeble percep- q3 174 A SENSE OF HONOUR. tions of them which fancy can afford (for this is all that a dying man can feel), is superior to the keenest apprehensions, and warmest propensities, of our nature. But honour is not satisfied with a preeminence over every other feeling; it is not enough, that when human laws*^ oppose its rules, that very prohibition is considered as an additional mo- tive. — It goes still farther ; it is always en- deavouring to excel and transcend itself. When Bayard, " the fearless and unblamed," was bleed- ing to death amidst the ruins of France ; what restrained him, since he had done his utmost duty, from accepting the assistance and com- passion of the rebel Bourbon ? And when our own brave Sidney, in circumstances almost paral- lel, displayed a still more noble self-denial, no duty, or even charity, forbade his quenching his own intolerable thirst, before he sent the water to the dying sentinel. There is, there must be, in such acts of glory, a pleasure superior to all external dangers; a high and almost spiritual exultation, elevated above the region of external pain. Self-respect, in short, is the most powerful, and one of the most useful, of our mental habits ; f AtffOrjffis daOtinjQ. Rhet. ii. ^ Montesquieu Esprit des Loix, note 2. A SENSE OF HONOUR. 175 it is the principle to which the noblest actions of our nature may be most frequently traced ; the nurse of every splendid and every useful quality. How far it may be occasionally abused, or how far it may be itself consistent with the principles of our holy religion, are questions which have long been disputed with violent and fanatical acrimony. The first objection I am neither prepared nor inclined to deny. To im- perfection every human invention is liable ; nor can it be considered as a subject of blame, that even our best institutions are only a chance of evils. But that a sense of honour is contrary to the spirit of religion', though Mandeville (per- haps insidiously) admits the charge, appears, to say no more of it, a hard and hazardous asser- tion. It will indeed be readily allowed, that there is only one motive which can deserve the name of virtue ; but to condemn as illegal or im- pious every other desire or principle, would be in opposition to all the wants and feelings of mankind ; and would, by an inevitable inference, lay the axe to the root of civil government itself. Like every other law, the laws of honour are occasioned by the wants and vices of the world ; — like them too, they must derive their influence from the weakness of our nature. The perfectly virtuous man, if any such there be, needs no • Origin of Honour, p. 45. 17G A SENSE OF HONOUR. such stimvilus or restriction ; but for our sake, for his own, let him not withdraw from us, who are not so fortunate, those salutary restraints and penalties, which fence our virtues by our passions, and unite in the cause of human hap])iness the powers of this world and the next. — For a poli- tician, neither must nor can destroy the propen- sities he attempts to guide. He must take man- kind as he finds them, a com])ound of violence and frailty ; he must oppose vice to vice, and interest to interest; and, like the fabled Argo- naut, accomplish his glorious purpose, by the labour of those very monsters who were armed for his destruction. But Avhy, after all, should we affix the reproach of wickedness or folly, to feelings in themselves useful and necessary ; feelings intimately con- nected with our nature, and which abuse alone can render criminal ; feelings, in short, which are the foundation and support of all human au- thority, and which He therefore (in all humility be it spoken) He himself has not disdained to sanc- tion, whom civil government adores as her author, in whom kings reign and princes decree justice. Having thus ascertained the sense of honour, like other secondary motives, is consonant to the nature of mankind, and by no means adverse to the influence or doctrines of religion, the question of expediency is all that now remains for dis- cussion. A SENSE OF HONOUR. 177 If it appears from farther inquiry that in the effects produced by their action on society good predominates, for unmixed good must not be ex- pected, we may reasonably pronounce them not only innocent, but, in a subordinate degree to virtue, laudable. It is thus that the other modifications of self- love, ambition, emulation, and the like, have, in all ages of the world, been not only tolerated, but, under certain restrictions, encouraged even and praised. To a similar or greater indulgence, a sense of honour may undoubtedly lay claim. It possesses in no small degree the advantages of the habits we have now enumerated, without an equal participation in the abuses attendant on either of them. It is true, its resemblance to ambition is so remarkable, that even Montesquieu*^ himself has been deceived by the similarity. Yet notwithstanding their kindred origin they are mental habits between which a wide diiFerence may undoubtedly be observed. Honour is chiefly conversant about the means, ambition disregards them in comparison of the end. The ambitious character is a conqueror thirsting after the do- minions of another, the man of honour will ex- pend all his energies, his happiness, and life itself, in defence of the fame he has already acquired. The pleasures of the one consist in '' Esprit des Loix, iv. 2. 178 A SENSE OF HONOUR. pursuit, the other's in possession. — The first, hke an ardent gamester, is careless of his former acquisitions, and risks them all in the hopes of more : — the other, proudly satisfied with his present reputation, hroods over it with a miser's fondness. Were it possible to blend these cha- racters in one, the hero would be perhaps com- plete, or, to speak more justly, a sense of honour is what the ambitious man wishes to believe tha* he feels. Nor are their effects on society less different than the modes of their existence. As the motives of honour are more pure, so is its sphere of action more extensive. Ambition is generally, perhaps fortunately, concentrated in a single pur- suit. But a sense of honour enters into all the occurrences of life, and gives point ' and ornament to the least as well as the greatest. " Delectat domi, foris non impedit. Peregrinatur nobiscum, rusticatur." It is at once the parent of loyalty, and the preserver of freedom, in the camp or convent its influence is equally valuable ; it adds tenfold delight and security to the endearments of a private, and is the sturdy guard of virtue through the dangers of a public life. To such a guard as this indeed, must innocence in the present imperfect state of human nature be often indebted for its safety. The best intentions ' Tladwv (ipiTwv KoafioQ. Ethic iv. A SENSE OF HONOUR. 179 of the most blameless heart might often lead, by unsuspected and imperceptible windings, to the brink of crimes and misery. It is decency, it is regard for character, and a sense of our rank in the world, which fence off the avenues of guilt, and not only resist but resent the first approaches of pollution. Never may false philosophy or mistaken religion succeed in eradicating that virtuous self-love, that pure and salutary pride, which defends the peace of families and the morality of nations, the distinctive mark, the main support of the amiable and exalted character of an European female. But if such are its effects on the character of individuals, as a national and political principle its influence is still more valuable. For there its excesses are less perceivable, and its faults (for to faults it is certainly liable) become, like the darker tints in a landscape, constituent and useful parts of the beauty and harmony of the whole. Experience, indeed, has shown, that in every nation popular honour has become the greatness of the public. A steady preference of glory to gain, a strict yet not distrustful care of liberty, a lofty forbearance towards their weaker neigh- bours, and an unyielding firmness against the encroachments of the more powerful ; these, with those other wholesome prejudices, which none who ever felt them would desire to lose, are some of its more illustrious characteristics. Such was 180 A SENSE OF HONOUR. the temper of the Athenians of old ; and the Hol- landers in the seventeenth century, wlio con- sented to ruin their country rather than disgrace it. Such was the ruling principle of the Roman nation, throughout the long history of their free- dom and greatness : and such has been (and may we never entirely lose it!) the source of British grandeur and prosperity. Nor are those minuter features to be over- looked, which appear in the private manners of the people, in their amusements and literature, in their buildings, and more, perhaps, than all, in the popularity of those pvu'suits in which praise rather than profit is the expected reward. For where, in a state, private luxury is exces- sive, and public magnificence small, where neither in the buildings, nor in any other distinguished work, posterity is at all regarded, where minute convenience succeeds to grandeur, and minute interest to ambition, let us beware how we extol the wisdom or prosperity of that country. There is not a more deadly poison to pu))lic greatness or public virtue, than that false and hollow mode- ration, which, undel' a specious name, contracts and envenoms the force of self-love, and concen- trates all our faculties in the pursuit of short- sighted gain, or individual accommodation. Nor is political insignificance the only danger to be apprehended. When a nation has once lost its self-respect, when that strong shoot is A SENSE OF HONOUR. 181 destroyed, which overtopped and kept down the more noxious weeds, the meanest and most hateful passions assume a certain rankness of luxuriance. The laws, supported only by fear, are borne at first with murmuring, and at length evaded or despised, and all those horrors follow which in- variably haunt the decay and twilight of nations. These are no imaginary pictures ; both the one and the other are confirmed by the uniform expe- rience of ages. For the influence of a sense of honour is not, as Montesquieu™ was tempted to suppose, confined to any peculiar form of go- vernment, much less can we assent to his arbi- ti'ary assignment of patriotism exclusively to republics, and to monarchies the distinct and appropriate impulse of honour. We know that, call it by whatever name, a sense of honour is apparent in every page of the histories of Greece and Switzerland. We know also, we know and feel, that the subject of a monarchy is not insensible to the warmest love for his country. The author of the Spirit of Laws was misled by a variety in appearance, which results not from the form but the extension of society. Where that is small and contracted, self-respect immediately termi- nates in patriotism. When, however, the circle is more extended, we seek, in the distinctions and classes of mankind, in the prejudices of every ■" Esprit des Loix, iii. 3, 5. 7. V. I. P. II. II 182 A SENSE OF HONOUR. person of rank, some intermediate point, some resting-place of esteem, more attainable by our views", and more nearly affecting our hopes and fears. But though all the symptoms of honour are visible in the histories of Greece and Rome, they are, it cannot be concealed, very differently mo- dified from those which now prevail, and have for many centuries prevailed, in Europe. The causes of this variety are so familiarly known, that they require but little discussion. So much however must be observed as, that, extravagant as some parts of the modern case may seem, or (in the conspicuous case of private warfare) per- haps unchristian, — yet in the more general lines of character, in refined courtesy, in openness of courage, in loyalty ", and generosity to enemies, the ancient ideas of honour were far inferior. The sullen and stately demeanour of the lofty disciple •' of Aristotle, his slow pace, his solemn " 'EvffvvoTrroc- Rhct. ii. ° The English at Poictiers, after having supped unarmed in com- pany with prisoners twice as numerous as themselves, " chacun s'en alia en son logis, avec ses prisonniers, chevaliers et Escuyers, qui se ran^oanerent envers eux qui prins les avoyent : qui leur de. mandoyent, sur leur foy, combien ils pourrarient payer, sans eux grever, et les croyoient legerement; et si disoyent communement qu'ils ne vouloyent mie si etraitement ran^onner nul chevalier, n'Escuyer, qu'il ne peut bien clierir et advancer son honneur." Froissart, lib. iii. P Kii'ijffiQ jipaciia, (Jiojvi) jSapfta, Xftic; crrao-ijKov. Aristotle was an accurate observer of the manners of his time ; if they (as appears A SENSE OF HONOUR. 183 tone, and the pompous cadence of his periods, would now be hardly considered as legitimate signs of magnanimity. And while the meanest soldier would now shudder at the practices of ancient warfare, the triumphs of even a Scipio himself must shrink and fade before the lustre of our Edward at Poictiers. If indeed there are any who still continue to doubt the efficacy of honour, let them look to a period when no other law maintained the interests of society, let them look to the chivalry of the middle ages. — It is in fact in such times as these, it is in the season of anarchy and peril, that this principle is peculiarly triumphant. And when it is considered, that a large, perhaps the greatest, part of the original conquerors of the western empire were voluntary and casual adventurers, when we take into the account the nature of their warfare, their igno- rance and insubordination, their dissolute and mercenary habits, and the total absence of any local or patriotic attachment''; — when such was the situation of Europe, what else could have been expected but a total and immediate return to the crimes and miseries of a savage life. Yet, so far from this being the event, we may from this specimen) were coarse and haughty, they can however form no imputation on the philosopher who describes them. 1 This was acquired very slowly indeed, even in Froissart there is no appearance of it. 184 A SENSE OF HONOUR. view with wonder, the virtues and the refinement which succeeded ; nay more, to this period of ignorance and confusion, we owe no inconsider- able share of our present blessings ; from this corrupted soil sprung the fairest shoots of Eu- ropean freedom ; from this chaos those goodly frames of polity, of which our own country still retains the last and proudest remnant. Such were the glorious effects produced by a sense of honour, as nourished and guided by the insti- tutions of chivalry. For that this was the prin- ciple whereon those institutions depended, is apparent from all those contrivances to feed and elevate self-respect, those forms and ceremonies, those distinctions and ornaments, which were in fact the very essence and secret spring of their power. The untamed and haughty warrior regarded with contempt the menace of impotent laws and a feeble sovereign ; nor was he suited either by temper or capacity, to attend to long declamations on the dignity of the moral sense, or the beauty of social virtue. But when he was told, that cruelty was unworthy of a brave man, and that a knight should disdain a falsehood, — when he was moved to virtue by his own admiration of him- self, he heard a language he understood, and an argument suited to his habits and desires. In every part of this wonderful fabric is a similar A SENSE OF HONOUR. 185 process visible. It is displayed in that rigid minuteness of courtesy"", which, however romantic it may seem, yet by the habits of benevolence it produced, was the cause of far greater advan- tages than the marshalling a procession, or pre- serving the harmony of a banquet. We discover it in that refined and delicate intercourse of the sexes, of which the ancients had no idea, in the constancy of their attachment, and the zeal, I had almost said piety, of their attentions. It may be seen in that dignified humanity which so admirably tempered their native courage, which, in the warmest contests and most inveterate feuds, preserved them untainted by that dark and atrocious revenge, so disgraceful to the cha- racter of the ancient world. Even their single combats were surely preferable to the poison- ings' and murders of Rome, and in the " arms of courtesy*," the preparation of the hsts, and the other precavitions against bloodshed, we '• St. Pelage, INIemoires de la Chevalrie, note 15. p. 39, also Le Chev. de la Tour a ses Filles. * Livy, xl. 42. vii. 48. ' Roman de Dom Ursino le Navarin. Tressan. ix. 6. The " com- bat a outrance" was seldom permitted, except in cases of " felonie" or treason. So in Dryden's Palaman to Arcite : — None shall dare With shorten'd sword to stab in closer war. But at fair distance fight with manly strength, Nor thrust with biting point, but strike at length. R O 186 A SENSE OF HONOUR. must acknowledge, that a true knight, as he was " without fear," so was he ahnost " without re- proach." And thus too was that lofty spirit of inde- pendence, which claimed an almost regal dignity, turned to the maintenance of public order. — Their freedom was restrained by fealty ; and to loyalty, submission itself became a pride. — Yet if that authority, which they thus adored, had imposed any order inconsistent with honour, they proved at once it was the principle that swayed them, and not the form, that they obeyed them- selves and not their sovereign. When the go- vernor of Bayonne was commanded to bear a part in the massacre of St. Bartholomew's eve, "Let your orders!" he replied, " Let your or- ders be such as we are able to perform." His great soul, says Montesquieu, conceived a base action to be an impossibility. To this same elevation of principle we may also trace that strong though untutored zeal for Christianity, which, imperfect as it certainly appears, was no small advantage in the peculiar dangers of the time. Nor, though the bigotry of the feudal ages has been much insisted on, can we find, in the general habits of the people, much of that illiberal hatred, with which they have been charged. The Saracens in particular seem to have been regarded with no ungenerous ani- A SENSE OF HONOUR. 187 'mosity, and in their histories and romances we often find distinguished mention of a Saladin", of a Palamedes ", or a sultan of Ohfarne ^. But in this, as in most other points, the spirit of chivah'y had a constant reference to a love of glory, and what they believed the interests of the Christian religion. " For as the priesthood was instituted for the divine service," they are the words of Alonzo the fifth of Portugal^, "so was chivalry for the maintenance of religion and justice. A knight should be the guardian of orphans and widows, the father of the poor, and the prop of those who have no other support. They who do not act thus are unworthy to bear the name." These glorious instances of the virtues of our ancestors, while they ought to excite our warmest emulation, evince that even the absurdities of a chivalrous sense of honovir had no small efl:ect in softening the ferocity and refining the manners of the world. They do more : they prove that a great and beneficial change had been accom- plished (a change, to effect which, honour was by itself incompetent) by the influence of that pure religion, which superstition might obscure, but could never entirely efface. " Way's Fabliaux. " Anvadis de Gaul. y Froissart. ^ He addressed them to his son over the dead body of the count Marialva, slain at the storming of Arzila. Lyttleton's Hen. 2. iii. 159. JNIickle's Lusiad, iii. note ad fin. 188 A SENSE OF HONOUR. We have now attempted to follow the sense of honour through all its principal bearings, its na- ture, its propriety, its effects on individuals, and, above all, on nations. It appears that in every age, and under every form of government, it has been productive of great, though not unmingled, happiness and glory. In the remarkable period of chivalry, we have seen it supplying the place of law, of civilization, and philosophy, and ele- vating the rude warriors of the north to virtues which the Greeks and Romans were unable and unworthy to comprehend. It has, however, been admitted, that while we gaze at the advantages, we are not to overlook the danger, and that self- respect can claim no good effects, unless moderate in its degree, and wise in its direction. To obtain this desirable end, no means are so effectual as a deep and steady conviction of the perfect insignificance of every human motive, when put in competition with the eternal claims of reason and virtue. To a religious sense, indeed, the very praises of a sense of honour must prove its inferiority. Excellent and noble as it sometimes appears, we can only give it credit as a useful secondary mo- tive, a powerful human engine, which derives all its value from being employed in the cause of virtue. Even when well directed, there is always room to apprehend, that dignity may degenerate into punctiliousness, and honour into a selfish and A SENSE OF HONOUR. 189 lazy pride. Its direction is, however, of most im- portance ; and when we consider that this must entirely depend on the desires or prejudices of those on whose opinion we form our own, we cannot expect in such local and variable laws, a steady criterion of right or wrong, or a code of general morality. As an auxiliary impulse it may be allowed, as a final object never. There are, it must not be forgotten, there are occasions, when the friend- ship of the world must be rejected and despised. In the mist and obscurity of our voyage, we may be allowed the aid of human invention, and may steer our course by the timepiece or the compass : but let us not, as we value our safety, let us not forget to correct and regulate their imperfect authority, by a constant reference to those celes- tial lights, whose truth no man can impeach, and whose laws are the laws of eternity. REGINALD HEBER, All Souls. 180.5. POSTHUMOUS FAME. THERE IS NOT A PLACE LESS HANDLED AND MORE WORTHY TO BE HANDLED THAN THIS OF FAME. bacon's FRAGMENT OF AN ESSAY ON FAME. No definition of man can be perfect, which does not represent him as a socjal being. His pur- suits, his passions, his duties, have all a reference to mutual intercourse ; and the ties, which attach him to society, are so closely interwoven with his nature, that, if any one can be said to fall below the level of his species, it is the selfish being, who, without regard to country or kindred, termi- nates all his views of happiness or enjoyment within the narrow limits of personal gratification. But in no instance is this social disposition more strikingly manifested, than in that respect which all men pay to the opinions of each other. Scarcely a transaction is begun, or a scheme meditated, scarcely are any notions of rectitude formed, or maxims of conduct adopted, without some attention to the sentiments of those around us. Even in matters of taste, the standard to which we refer is the general voice of all ages ; 192 POSTHUMOUS FAME. and prejudice itself is only an excess of the same principle, an undue deference to popular impres- sions to the exclusion of private judgment. It is by this reciprocal influence of opinion, founded, as we see, on the social constitution of our nature, that we become sensible to the love of praise : for he who respects the opinion of his neighbour, must be gratified by his com- mendation. Thus is the love of praise an universal passion. We are susceptible of it from our very infancy. The maternal smile awakens the first sense of pleasure ; and our earliest incentive to obedience is the hope of parental approbation. Nor even at a more advanced period of our existence is the same passion less conducive to our moral im- provement, because from being desirous of praise we are gradually led to deserve it. It is obvious, however, that the value of praise must ultimately depend on the characters of those who bestow it. The praises of the virtuous must be always useful, and those of the unprincipled dangerous. But the love of promiscuous praise, or, as it is commonly called, the desire of fame, is of a more complex character, and demands a more extended consideration. Let it be premised then, that Fame is either pre- sent or posthumous : and though we are on this occasion concerned only with the latter, yet it will be useful to examine them both in their POSTHUMOUS FAME. 193 order, that so we may be enabled, by the aid of contrast, to appreciate with greater exactness the particular object of our inquiry. In speaking of the passion for present fame, we ought carefully to distinguish it from vanity. The desire of fame is prospective ; vanity re- trospective; the desire of fame incites to ex- ertions that may command the admiration of mankind; vanity assumes an air of importance- upon the account of actions already performed : and thus the former, whatever be its defects, is at least more beneficial in its consequences than the latter. Moreover, though no virtue itself, it has occa- sionally given birth to deeds which might have arisen from a principle truly virtuous. Where generosity, patriotism, justice had failed to influ- ence, the love of popularity has sometimes suc- ceeded. The conqueror, who was deaf to the call of mercy, has been taught to spare by his regard for reputation ; and the hardened miser, who once seemed to have forsworn the sympa- thies of his nature, has yet been actuated by a similar ambition to extend an ostentatious libe- rality towards the friendless and the indigent. But while these advantages of the passion are, so far as relates to the estimate of moral character, only unsubstantial semblances of good- ness, the objections that may be made to it are solid. V. I. p. II. s 191 POSTHUMOUS FAME. And first, it is an unsteady inconsistent prin- ciple, which must fluctuate with the humour of the moment. For it is directed not by reason or judgment, not by the nature or fitness of things, but by popular opinion. It must, therefore, partake of all the variations and irregularities of the compass by which it is guided. The tide of public favour will often shift its direction; and thus the conduct which to-day meets with ap- plause, may be received with silence or obloquy to-morrow. The same individuals were alter- nately the idols and the execration of the Athe- nian populace; and Cicero was banished, as a public enemy, by the same Romans who had hailed him as the father of his country. But Mere popularity, when once obtained, as certain and unfluctuating as it is precarious, still it is at the best but an uneasy acquisition, and affords a very qualified enjoyment. The anxiety of competition, and still more the success of a rival, must alloy its best delights, and deaden its highest gratifications. If a single defeat in a contest for poetical distinction could render iEschylus insensible to former victories, surely it was with little reason, that Hume looked forward to a period when he might rest from his literary labours, and, seeing his works win their own way to renown, enjoy in peace the fame which they had acquired for him. Indeed, to say nothing of the probable disappointment of this hope, since POSTHUMOUS FAME. 195 neither Hume ever saw that period, nor can it be expected by many, to say nothing of the difficulty of resting satisfied with past triumphs, and of halting in the career of passion, we need only mark the feelings of an author who has thus attained the full height of his reputation. He, who is sensible to the praises of mankind, must be at least equally affected by their censure : and thus, since the highest excellence is not privileged from injurious reflections, contemporary fame will be found to be attended with its pains no less than its pleasures, and to be, after all, like the crown of royalty, too full of thorns to reward the pains by which it has been compassed. Thus popular fame is neither safe as a guide, nor suitable as a recompense. It may be added, that they who seek it most ardently, are not, therefore, the most certain of obtaining it. The people, like a froward child, will not always place their affections on those who display the greatest anxiety to humour them. They are not to be won by indiscriminate indulgence, but con- quered by occasional opposition ; and he who would secure their applause, must show himself more solicitous for their good than for his own glory. We are next to view the same principle acting in a different manner, to consider it as no longer limited to a particvdar period, but extending to 196 POSTHUMOUS fame. all futurity, and appealing to the judgment of succeeding ages. It may perhaps appear one of the paradoxes of human nature, that men should ever be engaged in seeking a treasure, which can never be en- joyed. Is it possible (may we not ask ?), that any one should resign his present ease, comfort, and happiness, to pursue a shadow which can never be overtaken, or which, to say the most, can only then be possessed, when he who should enjoy it, must be insensible to the blessing? And yet, that this is both a common and active principle, and that it is distinguishable even in practice from the passion for contemporary fame, may be illustrated by incontestible examples. Might we appeal to the poets as interpreters of nature, and assume their principles for axioms, we should in them find abundant testimony in our favour. The magnanimous resolution of Achilles, who preferred a short life with honour to a long and happy, but inglorious reign, the character in short of every hero, and the speech of every warrior, before he enters into battle, are alike grounded on one prevailing sentiment, that existence is despicable in comparison with glory. But whatever may be thought of the feelings which they ascribe to others, the poets of all ages and in every nation, have themselves been actu- ated by a thirst for posthumous distinction. The POSTHUMOUS FAME. 197 boasts of Enniiis, of Horace, and of Virgil, must occur to every one's recollection ; and our own Milton has with greater modesty expressed the same sentiment: Forsitan et nostros ducat de marmore vultus, Nectens aut Paphia myrti aut Paraasside lauri Fronde comas. At ego secura pace quiescam. Strong, however, as these instances may ap- pear, the sober narrative of history will supply us with others still more satisfactory. Whether we look to those gigantic pyramids which were erected with no other view than to confer upon their royal founders a portion of their own im- mortality ; whether we read of the columns which attested the victories of Sesostris, or of the channel through mount Athos, which told of the invasion of Xerxes ; whether we behold Alex- ander founding cities to perpetuate his name, or Hsten to the complaint of him whose sleep was broken by the trophies of Miltiades ; we recog- nise in every instance an ardent desire of that praise which terminates not with the breath of him who obtains it, but springs with added lustre from his ashes, and brightens through every successive age. Indeed, from this very circumstance that the candidate for future fame has no personal in- terest in his success, results one of the fairest recommendations of the feeling. The farther we s3 198 POSTHUMOUS FAME. remove from selfishness, the nearer we approach to virtue. Undoubtedly there is something great, something that partakes of inmiortality in the idea, that we possess desires too vast to be bounded by the natural term of our lives, that we are animated by thoughts that wander through eternity. and can take pleasure in the contemplation of applause from those who at present exist only to the eye of imagination. It will therefore be readily conceived, that a principle so extensive, so powerful, so disinter- ested, is superior to the narrow and more selfish ambition for contemporary fame : and, that this is no unfounded presumption, a short view of its influence upon the mind and conduct, may per- haps be sufficient to establish. For in the first place, as it looks forward to one definite object or reward, it must be more consistent in its effects, and more regular and uniform in its operation. To study the humour of the times, to watch the varying propensities of the public mind, to flatter the follies, to court the applauses of the multitude, these all are offices inseparable from the eager pursuit of contemporary fame ; and as they are unworthy of a wise, so they are incon- sistent with the character of a good man. But he who rests his hope on the admiration of dis- POSTHUMOUS FAME. 199 tant ages, has no temporary humours to study, no reigning passions to gratify. He will look through the fickle temper of the passing genera- tion to the more even and dispassionate judgment of those which are to come. He will build his claims to celebrity on the unchangeable principles of our nature. His reward will be sought not from caprice or fashion, but from those steady, inherent feelings, which, though occasionally li- able to be warped by interest or misled by passion, cannot fail eventually to operate with the majority of mankind. Hence he has a wider field open to his view. He has not to consider the particular bias, which the sentiments of the pubhc may have received, or the accidental objects, to which their attention may have been directed. He may choose for himself. He has the circle of hfe and science before him ; and, when he has surveyed the arts, and explored the various occupations of society, he may select that from among them all, which is to form the basis of his own glory. At the same time, though his choice be infinite, he must fix his whole mind on some one object of ambition. For it is to that course of action, that posthumous fame exclusively belongs, which has been adopted with enthusiasm and pursued with vigour from the beginning to the very end of life. The cautious indifference of age, and the calm repose of satisfaction, chill equally the warmth of 200 POSTHUMOUS FAME. our praise ; and he who foils in the full ardour of his career, has the firmest hold on our remem- brance. Nor is this all. The candidate for future glory must indeed be limited in his object. But he must be unlimited in his love of it. It is the business of a great man to forget his former actions, and endeavour, by continued exertions, to eclipse the past by the future. All content- ment with past fame, all acquiescence in present, stationary eminence, all abatement of the heat and energies of active enterprise, detract from the dignity of a splendid character, because they set limits to its ruling passion. Admiration must be fed with that which is unlimited. All, that we can wholly comprehend, all, that does not ap- pear to exceed our own powers, we instantly cease to admire. Those characters alone awaken the sentiment we are describing, to which we look up, as young Cassar did to the statue of Alexander, with tears of sorrow, that we are unable to rival the excellence which we contemplate. But not only will the passion for posthumous fame afford greater scope and liberty to the mind — not only will it stimulate to more spirited ex- ertions in pursuit of the favourite object than the passion for contemporary fame : but that object will be more useful in itself, and more conducive to the interests of mankind. Whoever aspires to the admiration, must study the benefit of his POSTHUMOUS FAME. 201 fellow-creatures. No selfish views, no private interests, except as subservient to the great ruhng purpose, must be permitted to influence his choice. All selfish passions that cannot be subdued, are but eccentricities in his course. No man surely could expect to attain the appro- bation of future ages by gratifying his own pride, avarice, or revenge. On the contrary, his best title to it will be founded on the control of these low and turbulent desires. What character in the whole history of the Roman commonwealth has been contemplated with greater admiration than that of Scipio ! And yet his most splendid triumphs, and highest honours, were not half so instrumental in attaining it, as one recorded instance of disinterested and generous self-com- mand. From the preceding view of the effects of this passion upon the mind and conduct it must ap- pear, that the praise of posterity is a worthier and nobler prize than that of the particular age in which we live. Nor is it difficult to trace this superiority to its source. The jealousy of rivals, and the envy of inferiors, must give an undue bias to the praises of our contemporaries, and prevent them from settling on their proper object; while the capriciousness of popular opinion will be prone to change its favourites, and create a new criterion of merit. On the other hand, the approbation of posterity is constant and certain ; 202 POSTHUMOUS fame. or at least the judgment of one age will balance the judgment of another, and thus, during the lapse of centuries, the character of the individual will vary little from its natural elevation. Neither envy nor competition can affect the sentence, when he who is the subject of it is no more ; nor has any one been known, since the death of Aristides, to be offended with his title of the just. Besides, the character of the living is subject to continual alteration, that of the dead fixed and complete, and capable of being fairly appreciated : and lastly, while every age is partial to its own children, posterity alone, in whose eyes the present age, with all that have preceded it, will come equally under the title of the past, can constitute an impartial tribunal, and pronounce a just award. Yet, notwithstanding these its advantages, and though in the absence of higher considerations it will generally be subservient to the welfare of society, we shall find, that the passion for post- humous fame is liable to such defects as entirely disqualify it for a primary motive of human action. Take the idols of public admiration, and com- pare them with the collective number of those who have lived from the earliest to the present age ; and how small is the proportion which they bear ! It cannot be imagined, that these are the only wise or great amongst mankind, or that they POSTHUMOUS FAME. 203 alone have enjoyed talents and performed actions which entitle them to remembrance. The reward therefore of fame, even in after-ages, is not com- mensurate to the claims of those who deserve it. It must depend upon accidental coincidences, upon the birth of poets and historians, no less eminent than the hero, to record and transmit his achievements : while the multitude in the mean time must be utter strangers to the prin- ciple. They can hope for no fame. They can aspire to no honours. Other motives must be found to regulate their conduct, and give an useful direction to their desires. Still it may be said, that this passion, though httle suited to the capacities or the feehngs of the multitude, is yet able to exalt a few above them ; and that, should the individuals, whom it has ex- cited to higher deeds and superior exertions, fail finally of their reward, the failure is of little mo- ment, when they are insensible to the disappoint- ment. But if it should appear, that the passion for posthumous fame is itself an illusive principle ; if it should appear, that it teaches us to set a lower value on virtue itself than on the reputation of it, and to choose guilt with the credit of rectitude rather than rectitude with the suspicion of guilt, a shade will surely be cast upon it, little con- sistent with those lofty pretensions which have been advanced in its favour. Whence was it 204 POSTHUMOUS FAME. tliat lAicretia, when compelled either to suffer or be thought to have suffered the violation of her chastity, was contented to save her character at the expense of her innocence, but that she prized fame above morality, and preferred the shadow to the substance ? But it is not in such extreme cases only, that the love of posthumous fame may mislead. It must necessarily allow of all such failings as the world are inclined to pardon. Many vices, which are generally considered as the excess of certain virtues ; many indiscretions, arising either from intemperate zeal, from too high a value for friend- ship, or from too exalted a sense of honour ; many, that spring from so excessive a regard to one virtue, as to be incompatible with every other, are in no degree inconsistent with the heroic character, however repugnant to the vir- tuous. Nor again do all virtues receive encourage- ment from this passion. That meekness of spirit, which forgives injuries without exposing them; that charity, which acts in secret ; that tender- ness to the failings of others, which draws a veil over their innocent errors ; that ingenuity of friendship, which admonishes without wounding ; can never arise from a desire of glory, because they flourish only in the shade, and retire from vulgar observation. But the consideration, which most fully dis- POSTHUMOUS FAME. 205 plays the insufficiency of the passion for posthu- mous fame, as a rule of action, is, that it weakens with expiring life, A passion for that which is not to be enjoyed till after death, might be ex- pected to burn brightest when the hour of death is approaching: and yet when do men appear more indifferent to the voice of praise than at that moment ? Fame has then lost its charm. The dying man looks to other prospects than that of his surviving glory, and is ready to adopt the language of the Spanish poet; who, with every reason to expect the homage of posterity ex- claimed, that he would willingly exchange his title to renown for a single deed of virtue. The praise of subsequent ages could never, therefore, have been designed to be either our reward or our motive : for who can think that blessing a proper end of pursuit which is then most de- spised, when the pursuer is on the very eve of fruition ? Such are the objections to the passion for posthumous fame : and the foundation of them all is this, that it concerns man in one only of his capacities. It regards him exclusively as a citi- zen of the community, and not also in the relation which he bears to his Creator. The duties it prescribes, and the rewards it proposes, are all social, and have a reference to man alone : and, therefore, the passion itself, when surveyed either in its origin or in its effects, is a defective prin- v. I. p. II. T 206 POSTHUMOUS FAME. ciple, inadequate to the whole of man's nature and destinies, and by consequence unfit to be a primary motive of human action. Before we consider it as a secondary motive, it is necessary to ascertain what is that primary one to which it should be subservient : and from what has just been remarked it is evident, that this must be the desire to approve ourselves to that Being who alone can truly judge our con- duct, and who alone is able to reward it. He who is guided by this motive in all his actions, will find in it none of those defects Avhich attach to the desire of posthumous fame. He can neither be disheartened by the consciousness that the reward which he is seeking is limited to a few, nor misguided by the expectation that his secret faults and secret virtues may be either unknown or unregarded. Nor will he perceive his confidence in this principle impaired in that last hour which tries the purity and the value of every motive, but will find it accompany him even beyond the grave, and remain with him immortal, as his being. It is indeed so pure and perfect, that wherever it is adopted as the primary spring of action, there may seem to be no need of a secondary ; it being in itself capable, when steadily pursued, of leading to the highest perfection of virtue and enjoyment. Yet, perhaps, the human mind being what it is, POSTHUMOUS FAME. S07 it were rash to assert, that secondary principles are either improper or superfluous. Men cannot in their best state be wholly directed by the purest motive. When strongest, they are still liable to fall : and it were well, if, when they have thrown aside their firmest stay, some other were always ready to support them. A subsidiary motive to virtue may occasionally save a wavering mind, when the stronger and better principle has been forgotten. Perhaps the philosopher has no more difficult inquiry than to appreciate the value of secondary motives. But this probably we may venture to assert without presumption, that if any secondary motive may be allowed to hold a place in a scheme of Christian morals, it is a regard to posthumous fame. There is none other which leads to purer views or to more disinterested actions. At the same time it must be remembered, that it is an usurping passion, and loves to reign, that it will not readily brook a second place in our aflfections, and is so far a dangerous principle. While, therefore, we dare not assert that the desire of posthumous fame is totally unworthy of being associated with the sanctity of higher obli- gations, while we are even wilhng to admit, that in its proper subordinate measure, it may some- times prove even an auxihary to religion, we must yet be jealous and watchful over so daring a 208 POSTHUMOUS FAME. passion, and are constrained after all to allow, that no one action can be truly virtuous of which the passion for posthumous fame is the only motive. EDWARD GARRARD MARSH. Oriel College. 1806. HEREDITARY RANK. There are many of the institutions of civilized society, which appear, at first sight, to deal out their advantages with so much partiality and in- justice, that we ought not to be surprised at their exciting some discontent, especially amongst those who cannot be expected to consider systems in the whole, and to be aware of the general good effect that counterbalances the particular imper- fections to which they all are liable. Suppose for a moment, that a savage were transported, from amongst his rude companions, into the midst of one of the nations of modern Europe, how much would the manners and practices of its people excite his wonder and amazement! Having viewed but the elements of society in their sim- plest state, he wovild be at a loss to recognise them, combined and disguised as they have been by endless alteration and the accumulated refine- ment of centuries. The different gradations, for instance, of society, from the monarch to the peasant, would, of themselves, appear to him strange and inexplicable. But, when he should T 3 210 HEREDITARY RANK. learn, that the distinctions of rank are not always rewards conferred upon individual excellence, but that they are vested as a possession, and an inheritance in a particular class of the community, he would indeed be lost in surprise. He, who had been accustomed to see all men enter into life with equal advantages, and to consider per- sonal merit as the only road to distinction, would not easily perceive the reasonableness of honours and titles of respect being held in readiness for the child yet unborn ; of one man being privileged to claim indulgence and submission as his birth- right; whilst another comes into the world the heir only of inferiority and contempt. Montaigne, indeed, has given an account, interesting in this point of view, of the conduct of three West Indian savages, who were brought to the court of Charles the ninth of France, whilst that prince was yet in his minority. The chief buildings of the city, the rich dresses of the courtiers, and every object which was thought best calculated to arrest their attention was pointed out to them, before it was demanded, what circumstance had made the greatest impression on their minds ; the savages, however, unanimously agreed in con- sidering the submission shown by so many full- grown men to a child, as the spectacle which best deserved their wonder*. » Essais de M. de Montaigne, p. 169. Paris, 1604, 8vo. HEREDITARY RANK. 211 It cannot be a task utterly devoid of interest, or of utility, to inquire, what were the causes which first prompted mankind to surrender, for themselves and their posterity, that equality of condition which nature bestowed upon all; to observe what bias the institution of Hereditary Rank has been wont to give to the characters of individuals and of nations; and whether it has tended to the debasement and oppression, or to the general welfare of mankind. At first sight, we might be led to suppose, that in every case, where rank is hereditary, the custom must have owed its origin to one of two causes. Either that at some former period, one part of society must have yielded to another their right of equality by formal compact, and from a prospect of obtaining some advantage adequate to that which they surrendered ; or, that it must have been the consequence of a struggle between two contending parties, in which perpetual in- feriority, for themselves, and their posterity, was the hard condition imposed by the victors on the vanquished. But there are very few of the usages of men which are derived from positive institution. The greater part may, undoubtedly, be shown to have been the result of the agency of certain natural principles, and to have grown up, unaided, amidst the spontaneous flow of human affairs. We are acquainted with no state of society in 212 HEREDITARY RANK. which there is not some distinction of rank ; for without it no society could exist. But we know many where rank is not hereditary. It never is so whilst a people continue to support themselves by fishing and hunting, and are ignorant of the cultivation of lands, and the pasturing of cattle. In that rude state, it is only on personal prowess, or personal sagacity and wisdom, that honours and distinction are conferred ; and, as no one can transmit these qualities to his children, the rank of each individual dies with him, and the member of the community the most worthy to succeed him is established in his place. But no sooner has a nation advanced one step farther, become a pastoral people, and the division of property taken place than the case is altered. Wealth immediately becomes a greater and more permanent source of authority than personal merit. It not only ensures respect to the pos- sessor during life, but remains, when he is dead, to his children ; the dependents of the father become consequently the dependents of the son ; and, as their fate is linked with his, do their utmost to maintain him in at least as high a station as his predecessor; they practise towards him the same outward forms of submission, they salute him with the same titles of honour. As time rolls on the system is consolidated and made firm ; each existing representative of a family is, by the principle of association, in some measure con- HEREDITARY RANK. 213 sidered as possessing the aggregate virtues of his ancestors, and thus respect increases as gene- rations pass away''. This foundation of the system has perhaps been common to all states : the superstructure has been varied according to the various tastes and habits of the nations among which it has arisen, and been worn into different forms and shapes, according to the different im- pulses to which it has been exposed, in the way- ward course of human events. That modification of the system which has subsisted among the nations of modern Europe, and which owes its distinguishing form and cha- racter to the customs of the feudal times, is naturally the most interesting to us : and to that it will perhaps be fit that the present inquiry should be limited ; for were we to set no bovmds to our speculations, but date them from the beginning of history, and give them the world for their range, a task might be prepared which it would argue presumption to attempt. Amongst the many political advantages which modern Europe has derived from her orders of nobility, the chief and most excellent per- haps has been the strong and continued check which they have opposed to the power of the sovereign. Not to mention, that much immediate oppression has been thus prevented; another '' Millar's Origin of the Distinction of Ranks, p. 152, last ed. 214 HREDITARAY RANK. species of good has been the resuk. Whenever the two adverse parties have approached towards an equilibrium, the third party or the people has been courted by each, with a view, by its aid, to obtain the preponderance ; by which means, the lower orders of the state have, at different times, been enabled to assert their rights ; and have risen to a value and a consequence which they otherwise might never have attained. Nor are the effects trifling which have been produced by the circumstance of the nobles, in the mixed governments of this quarter of the world, having shared that natural feeling of re- spect for elevated station, which, in other coun- tries, has been undividedly directed to the single person of the monarch. Whence it never has happened unto us as to the eastern nations ; where this feeling, by being concentrated to one point, has been warmed into adoration ; where kings have been looked upon as deities, and that awe and veneration felt towards them which should never be inspired by a mortal, and that mean servility expressed which exceeds the or- dinary forms of humiliation in the service of God. In the favoured regions of Europe the constituted ranks, which immediately svuTound the throne, have been as a medium, through which the rays of royalty have fallen with a gentler impulse upon the great body of the people ; whilst, in the kingdoms of Asia and of HEREDITARY RANK. 215 Africa, the power of their sovereigns, like their own sun, shining with a direct and untempered light, has withered those energies of nature, to which a milder influence might have given life and action. Nor have the nobles, whilst they have thus curbed the power of the throne, been ever tempted to destroy it. In seasons of danger and difficulty, the monarch has, at all times, found in them his most ready help and support ; and, though determined not to be his slaves, they have ever been eager to become his defenders. In the calamitous contest between the crown and the parliament of England, they, for the most part, either perished with the unfortunate Charles, or retired into voluntary exile with his fallen family. And when the house of Austria was beset by its enemies, and on the point of sinking to the ground, the Hungarian nobles rushed in a body to its support; and, with a generous forgetfulness of injury, fixed firmly in the grasp of their sovereign that sceptre, which had so often been wielded for their oppression ^ Another of the most obvious advantages of the system of hereditary rank, arises from its in- fluence on the disposition and character of the nations among which it prevails ; for, though it must be confessed, that this, like all other human <= Esprit des Loix, lib. viii. cap. 9. 216 HEREDITARY RANK. institutions, is liable to abuse, and that many instances of baseness and degeneracy have at all times existed among the inheritors of elevated station, yet it cannot but be of advantage to the manners and the morals of a people, that an order of men should be constituted among them, from whom more lofty notions of honour and of virtue, and more purity and delicacy of conduct is, at least, expected, than from the mass of the community : that there should be a continued succession of individuals, who, as soon as they arrive at the right use of reason, cannot but per- ceive, tliat the eyes of their countrymen are, in some measure, directed towards them ; that they stand in a strong light, and in the foreground of the picture ; who cannot consequently expect, that their actions should escape notice, and have but the alternative of virtue and public applause on the one hand, or of ecpially public contempt on the other ; nor can they well forget, that it is not their own reputation only which may be af- fected by any crimes of Avhich they may be guilty; they are conscious that every deviation from rectitude may tend to bring into disgrace a hitherto illustrious name, and to dim the glory of their ancestors. Whatever temptations to vice, wealth, and indulgence may afford, it can hardly fail but that a race of men with incitements to virtue, so strong as these, should present ex- amples of superior worth: it may reasonably be HEREDITARY RANK. 217 expected that their united body should become a depository, and a sacred asylum for generous principle; and that, when honour is about to desert the world, it will be amongst these, as the priests of her temple, she will retire, and that here the last traces of her footsteps will be found. We have indeed but to look to those nations which are without this system, to appre- ciate its value in this respect. In the inhabitants of the new world it is dif- ficult to recognise the descendants of those chi- valrous nations, whose posterity they are known to be. However we may admire and applaud those energies of mind, and those active virtues which have been called forth, in some individuals among them, by the occurrence of strange and difficult circumstances : it is impossible to deny that, in the general character of the people, there is little to admire and still less to love. With them wealth is the standard of merit ; and rank means but superior riches : as a people they have been inclined to peace, but less, it would seem, from the want of a disposition to quarrel, than from a fear of the consequences of war ; nor have the years of peace, which they have en- joyed, been productive of those beneficial ef- fects, which in other countries would have been the result of similar opportunity. Neither arts nor learning have flourished with them; their manners have acquired no softness, their society V. I. p. II. U 218 HEREDITARY RANK. has few charms : they are in possession of all the necessaries which enahle man to support life ; hut with many of the comforts and the elegances, which improve and adorn it, they are unac- quainted. It would be unreasonable to assign so many defects to any one cause, and equally so to propose for them any one remedy ; but, it is not perhaps too much to say, that the institution of privileged orders would have tended to soften the manners of the American nations ; the cul- tivation of the pride of ancestry to elevate their principles, and ennoble their actions : that, so long as wealth is the only title to respect, wealth will be the sole object of pursuit; and the people, however they may flourish as a commercial and a prosperous community, will win but little ad- miration, either from the present or from suc- ceeding ages. It may perhaps be questioned, how this sys- tem, if it be calculated to produce so much good, should have been assailed with so much invective. For it must be confessed, that it has, in all ages, been a favourite subject for ridicule and satire. The pride of pedigree has been stigmatized as a contemptible weakness ; the privileged descend- ants of illustrious families have been charac- terized as the most unprofitable and vicious class of the community : as abandoned to indolence and luxury themselves, and jealous at the sight of honourable exertion in others ; and the HEREDITARY RANK. 219 deepest indignation has been expressed, that the feehng of respect towards them should be so strong, when they frequently have deserved that it should not exist at all. Now that desire of knowing and recording our ancestors, is a feeling common perhaps unto all mankind; and it may be suspected, that it is by those only who make a virtue of necessity, and whose forefathers either are not known, or being known, are undeserving of fame, that this feeling is ridiculed and blamed. For it is natural that we should wish to brino- under our view the Avhole of that chain, of which ourselves form a link; w^e connect, in this way, the present with former times, and ourselves with those who no longer exist ; and we observe how, though as individuals we perish, we yet have the power of perpetuating our species and name, so that the mortal seems in some measure to par- take of the immortal. It is foolish cavillinff, to say, that one man has as many ancestors as an- other : for though this be true, it is surely some- thing to know that no infamy has at any time attached to the name we bear ; and it is likely to prove an incitement to us to preserve it ourselves from a stain, with equal care, while it is in our keeping. Of those, indeed, who have most strongly expressed their contempt for this feel- ing, there is not one, perhaps, who has not, in a a certain degree, partaken of it. The satirist, who, in lofty language, proclaimed, that virtue 220 HEREDITARY RANK. was the true and only nobility, could not however disguise his indignation, when the honours of the empire were conferred not upon the meanest citi- zens, but the sons of the meanest. The man does not live who would not rather be called the offspring of an illustrious than of an infamous father ; and it is but the extension of the same desire, to remoter degrees of relation, that con- stitutes what is called the pride of ancestry. To destroy this sentiment, would be to destroy one of the readiest, if not one of the most powerful, incitements to virtue. The son of a noble house, while dwelling, with a lively interest, on the his- tories of his fathers, seems to enlarge the bounds of his existence, and to have lived in their per- sons ; he assumes their character, and, as he grows warm with admiration of their virtues, can hardly fail to catch a portion of the same flame which animated them in the achievement of their deeds of fame. It is not, however, to be denied, that, it is with better reason, the reproach of worthlessness has been so frequently thrown out against those whose birth has given them a preeminence above their fellow-citizens. The human mind has need, for the most part, of difficulties to stimulate it to action; without some opposition to call forth its energies, it will for ever remain torpid ; without having itself felt disappointment or sorrow, it will seldom learn to sympathize with the misfortunes HEREDITARY RANK. 2^1 of others. It is a common observation, that those have been the most ilhistrious monarchs who have spent the morning of their hfe in strugghng with adversity ; and there is no need that the remark shoukl be confined to royaUy. We can- not wonder, then, that an order of men, who step from the cradle into the possession of power, who are shielded from distress, and provided against every want, should afibrd some instances of weak- ness and of vice ; that, never having felt the ne- cessity of exertion, they should yield to the influ- ence of indolence ; or that, jealous of their native rights, they should look with envy on the attempts of their inferiors to rise to their level, and use their endeavours to repress the workings of even honourable ambition. Some such characters will always be found, as long as human nature shall remain imperfect, disgracing the station which they hold, and wearing their rank and titles, like the helmet of a warrior on an infant's brow, as an oppressive weight, rather than an ornament and a defence. Yet, though many will, at all times, be thus turned aside from lofty pursuit, it is pleasing to observe, that there are minds, the force of which is not to be restrained by such im- pediments ; and which, not requiring the spur of necessity, find objects for exertion in regions beyond the ken of the multitude. A man of noble birth, possessed of a soul capable of such ideas, is peculiarly fitted to run a career of V 3 222 HEREDITARY RANK. glory, and to gain the love and admiration of the world. For whilst the generality of mankind have to contend with those feelings of envy, which their equals must always conceive at their elevation, he meets with a predisposition to obey him, and a willingness to forward his designs. The very manners, which are almost natural to persons of elevated rank, of themselves, ensure favour and applause. The man, born to com- mand, is accustomed to demean himself with a gracious ease and consciousness of superiority, which prevents that superiority from behig felt ; whilst the minion of fortune, always fearful that he is viewed with dislike, is jealous and uneasy at every trifling failure of respect ; always in- sisting on submission, he every moment recalls, to the minds of those about him, the question whether he deserves it ; and causes the eye of in- dignation to view with tenfold hate the power which sits upon him so uncouthly. To those who admit, and to those who deny, the advantages to be derived from the system of hereditary rank, it cannot but be matter of in- terest to consider the probable extent of its dura- tion. The feeling of respect, indeed, for the de- scendants of illustrious forefathers, is so natural to every one, that the institution founded on it can never, perhaps, be utterly destroyed : but new usages may arise, variations of public opinion may take place, and changes in the manners of HEREDITARY RANK. 223 nations, which must have their effect in extending or diminishing its influence. The diffusion, for instance, of tliat inquiring and philosophizing spirit, which has prompted men to question the utihty of systems, once held sacred, and to disre- gard prejudices, which had once the force of natural feeling, will probably weaken those senti- ments of veneration, with which the representa- tives of noble houses were at one time regarded. The effects of commerce, in enriching and raising to consequence men of low degree, has a tendency to humble the pride of birth. Much too of that respect, which attached to ancient families, was owing to the stability of their fortunes; and to their having stood up and flovu-ished in one spot and with unchanging possessions, through a long series of generations : whence their retainers and dependents were so impressed with the idea of their greatness, that they would have almost as soon expected to see a variation in the laws of nature, as to witness the splendour of their house obscured, and their lords reduced to poverty and insignificance. Commerce has, however, by faci- litating and promoting the transfer of property, rendered such revolutions of grandeur more com- mon, and those who have been exposed to them less respected. To give full effect, moreover, to the influence of hereditary rank, a title ought to convey the idea, that even if the immediate pos- sessor of it be unworthy in his own person, yet. 224 HEREDITARY RAMK. at least, it was once conferred upon the stock, from Avliich he is derived, as the guerdon of merit. But in a highly civilized, and, above all, in a commercial nation, there must often be other causes than pu])lic virtue, which will be consi- dered as constituting a sufficient claim to the possession of rank and titles. To prohibit any farther increase of the numbers of the nobility of a state, as once was projected in this country, would perhaps be to remedy this evil by the adoption of a greater. The expectation not only of acquiring distinction for ourselves, but of com- municating it to our posterity, the hope of being regarded with gratitude by our latest descend- ants, as the cause and source of the honour which they enjoy, forms so flattering a prospect, that the community which should, in any degree, de- prive its citizens of this incitement to exertion, would find it very difficult to supply its place by any adequate substitute. The power of reward- ing virtue is one of the most natural prerogatives of a sovereign, and amongst the last of which he ought to be deprived. But, at the same time, it is not to be denied, that any pei'version of that power (to which, without the greatest care, it must always be liable) would impair the institu- tion it was meant to uphold. The consequences of the farther growth of commerce maybe more easily conjectured, if we consider those which have been already produced HEREDITARY RANK. Q25 in another part of society. In some countries the people have been divided simply into noble and ignoble ; in England there has always existed an intermediate class, designated by the name of gentlemen ; who, though they have not par- taken of titles, nor been considered absolutely as noble, were accustomed at no very remote period to believe themselves entitled, by their birth, to no inconsiderable share of respect, and to par- ticipate very strongly in the feelings and the manners of the nobility. The same pride of pedigree was observable, the same quick sense of honour, the same contempt for what were then esteemed degrading employments. Nor was this similarity of sentiment the only bond of union between the two classes. In many of the conti- nental kingdoms, the custom has been adopted of allowinfv all the children of a nobleman to inherit the rank of the father : the consequence of which is, that the greater portion of the family are desti- tute of means to support them in the splendour befitting their station, and that in process of time beggary and rank are connected in unseemly union : but in England, by a wise and provident regulation, the disproportion between riches and honour has in a great measure been avoided. The younger branches of each family are pre- vented from inheriting titles which would be but an incumbrance to them, and thus, losing the outward signs of nobility, yet remembering they ^2G HEREDITARY RANK. were once noble, they are gradually merged in this intermediate class, which linked to the people by a common interest in resisting the encroach- ments of the nol)ility, and to the nobility, by the remembrance that it is, thus, partly their off- spring, and, by an identity of feeling and opinion, has served to connect the two extremes of the community, at the same time that it has pre- vented their collision, and has been the means of preserving that regular gradation of society, which forms so striking a contrast to those rough and abrupt divisions of it, which have existed in countries less happily constituted than our own. But the limits, by which this rank of men were separated from those below them, have been passed over by many feet, and are every day be- coming less distinct ; the province is for ever in- vaded by new comers ; and the influx of commer- cial prosperity has raised up a new aristocracy, founded upon inequality of wealth, which promises to be a powerful rival to that which rests its claims upon honourable birth. It would be vm- reasonable to expect, that wealth shovdd not always ensure a portion of deference, and a cer- tain degree of rank to its possessors ; it would be impolitic, perhaps, to endeavour to prevent it. It is fit that the path to distinction shoidd be opened to every one, and that reward should await industry and exertion ; but at the same time it should be remembered, that honour may HEREDITARY RANK. 227 be made too common ; the prize excites no emu- lation which may be attained by any one ; and, what is granted to all, will, in the end, be sought for by none. As far as any decrease of the in- fluence of hereditary rank has hitherto taken place, it may possibly be the necessary and salu- tary consequence of the progress of civilization, and the more general diffusion of knowledge ; till we see, however, more clearly, the advantages to be derived from it, we should be cautious how we contribute our exertions to promote its farther extension. A calm and dispassionate reasoner will not think himself degraded by an acqui- escence in the respect which is yet paid to the representatives of noble families : our natural feehngs prompt us to view with interest the de- faced coins and mutilated images of the heroes and sages of past times ; and wherefore is it not excusable to regard, with some reverence, those who, even when degraded and degenerate, are at least as a record and a monument of the illus- trious founders of their race. A well-wisher to mankind will not be disposed to condemn an usage in the whole, because it is subject to partial imperfection ; he will remember, that, if every defective institution were to be abolished, the fabric of human society wovild fall to the ground. For until man's being shall be advanced to a much higher degree of perfection than it has hitherto attained, that fabric can never be of per- 228 HEREDITARY RANK. feet and unblemished beauty ; yet though some of the cohunns, which support it, be marked with flaws and irregularities, they may retain many graces which we ought not to overlook in the contemplation of their defects ; they may still have their use in propping the building ; and, at least, we should be careful how we remove them before our hands have fashioned others of more perfect make, to supply their place when they are gone. CHARLES EDWARD GREY, A. B, Oriel College. 1808. I THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. The love of society is an instinctive principle in the constitution of man, capable of numberless modifications from external causes, and under all of them conducing to ends the most important and most beneficial. From his very birth, he, without any effort of volition, or any guidance from reflection, is in fact a social being ; and in a family may be traced the outline of the great structure of civil society. To his parents the first tribute of affection is paid ; and the impres- sion, which their kindness has stamped on his youthful feelings, is rendered permanent by the experience of succeeding years. By an easy transition his fondness is communicated to all who are allied to him either by blood or by affinity; they are the companions or the pro- tectors of his childhood, and to them he looks up in a spirit of conscious dependence, in which attachment is mingled with awe, and gratitude with confidence. As time progressively develops his character, the circle of a family becomes too v. I. p. II. X 230 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. confined for the range of the social principle, and his mind, with quickened perceptions and en- larged views, embraces a more extensive prospect of life, its pains and its pleasures, its duties and its relations. But the alliance and union of mankind must not be considered as mere acts of obedience to the benevolent dictates of nature ; they are more- over prompted by the vicissitudes of human affairs ; they are upheld by congeniality of dis- positions, and similitude of manners ; they are strengthened and perpetuated by all the ad- vantages which promote, and all the refinements which adorn, the varied commerce of life. Benevolence, as it respects our conduct towards individuals, is generally weak, unless on occasions, which excite strong commiseration, or demand immediate relief. Benevolence, according to various circumstances, will be sometimes en- feebled, and sometimes invigorated, by the mul- titude of the objects to which it is dilated. It is enfeebled, when they are separated into numerous parts ; and it is invigorated, when our imagination combines them into a whole. Hence arises the force of that sentiment, which we experience towards all who have been born in our own country, and whom we contemplate as standing with ourselves in the same common relation to the aggregate interests of a community. When natives of the same town, or even of the same THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 231 country, have been accidentally thrown together in a foreign land, the previous, but latent affec- tion, which subsisted between them, is instan- taneously called into action. The existence of this feeling may also be discerned in the eager preference of mankind for their fellow-citizens; in their suspicion and dislike of strangers ; in their disposition to overvalue in the one, those qualities of personal merit, which they depreciate in the other ; and, above all, in the enthusiasm with which men of different classes, different pursuits, and different tempers, spontaneously unite in the hour of peril or distress. By a well-known faculty of our minds, indi- viduals, who singly are disregarded, may be em- bodied into one complex object, which attracts and fixes our attention by its apparent magnitude and uniformity. We are thus led to survey our country, our civil and our religious establish- ments, with the liveliest sensations, though the particulars which compose each group, when separately considered, are either too minute or too distant, to force themselves on our notice. Age, condition, and the numerous connections of family and neighbourhood, lose at the moment the differences by which they were formerly dis- tinguished, and are blended into one large and bright form, which captivates our fancy, and en- gages our affections under the general name of our country. Accumulation ennobles the assem- 232 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. blage, and our regard is bestowed, not according to the interest, which each of its constituent parts might simply inspire, but with an energy proportioned to its collective dignity and im- portance ^ It is wisely ordained by Providence, that this predilection for our country should be more forcible and more constant than our love for man- kind at large. An active principle is thus created, which directly tends to promote the greatest possible measure of general happiness ; for every commonwealth consults its own advancement, and zealously maintains its own privileges against foreign encroachment. Thus society, as the natural condition of man, is the result of his affections, and of his helpless- ness on his entrance into life ; while civil society is the necessary consequence of those mischiefs, which inevitably arise, where men are left with- out subordination, or without some control upon their selfish and malignant passions. As members of a political body, we are sub- ject to restraints, and guided by views, to which, in a more simple state, we are wholly strangers. From this character we derive new and more powerful incitements to the performance of moral duties; and our connection with that confederacy, '^ Lord Kaimes's Sketches of the History of Rlan, vol. ii. 269, 4to. edition. THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 233 of which we form a part, gives us other posses- sions to defend, and other rights to preserve. The hves, the hberties, the fortunes of ourselves and of all around us, the peaceful exercise of the social charities, the undistvu'bed worship of our God, are all inseparably involved in the well- being of our respective communities. If public prosperity then should require a sacrifice, are we not bound most cheerfully to contribute our as- sistance? If the cry of public danger summon us, should not our arm be ready to repel ag- gression? Should not our life be at the call of that country, to which we are linked by the united ties of honour and interest, of nature and religion ? The love, which we bear to our country, quickens our sense of those political obligations, on the efficacy of which not only the renown, but the safety also of every nation must depend. If it be natural, that the images of childhood should be deeply imprinted, when the fancy is vivid, and observation is alive to every passing occurrence, or that the prepossessions of youth should ripen into the confirmed sentiments of manhood ; if it be natural, that we should desire the security of ourselves and of our property, that we should prize our hearths and our altars, that we should venerate that government, under which we have enjoyed all the benefits of life ; shall it be denied, that, in thus loving and thus x3 234 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. honouring our country, we are obeying the simple and hallowed commands of nature herself? Let it be remembered also, that it is the land of our fathers, the scene of our earliest pleasures; where all our habits have been formed, and all our af- fections exercised : that it is inhabited by men, who use the same language, and are protected by the same laws ; men, who are partakers in the same blessings, and sufferers in the same hard- ships ; men, whose manners, whose prejudices, whose hopes and whose fears are reflected in our own bosoms. Some superficial thinkers have considered the love of our country as a predilection merely for a particular district, or for the immediate place of our birth. But such a restriction derogates from the dignity of the passion, and leaves to it no higher merit than may be found in the attach- ment of a savage to his cabin, or of a beast of prey to its den. It cannot surely be supposed that the movements of the heart are to be measured like space, or that the extent of human affections is to be determined solely by the slight peculiari- ties of place and situation. Let us appeal to those, who are doomed to tread in the most humble paths of life ; to the manufacturer, who toils at his loom, or to the peasant, who has rarely wandered from the hamlet in which he was born. The idea of a country is recalled to his imagination by the bare mention of a capital, THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 235 which he never beheld — of a sovereign, whom he never approached. He has, however, been accustomed to admire that capital ; he has been taught to reverence that sovereign ; and, in the splendour of the one and the majesty of the other, he discerns a symbol of that wide and en- dearing relation, which he bears to places seen and unseen, but forming a part of his country ; to persons known and unknown, but connected with him as fellow-subjects ; and to the collective body of those public interests, which never have been, nor ever will be, spread before his reason with the distinctness and formality of minute calculation. We may learn from the earlier periods of our own history, that men may transfer the idea of a country to another soil; nor are we ignorant, that the ambition of chieftains, and the lust of gain, have at various times assembled bands of adventurers, who have deserted their native shores, and established colonies, which have equalled and even surpassed the dominion of the mother state. Tyranny, likewise, has but too often applied the axe of destruction to the very root of social happiness, and extirpated all those endearments by which a country can be rendered the object either of regard or of veneration. When the Hollanders'', after many fruitless •> Hume's England, vol. vii. 498. 2.36 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. attempts to obstruct the victorious progress of Louis the fourteenth, had made preparations for removing with their famiUes to their settlements in the East Indies ; they were wilhng, indeed, to abandon the precise spot, on whicli tliey were born ; but, had their intention been reahzed, the vital part of their country would still have been preserved in all its vigour. Local property would have been foregone, and accidental distinctions annihilated ; but the glorious birthright of free- dom would still have been theirs, and the noble inheritance of justice, of civil order, and of re- gular government, would have descended to their children pure and undiminished. For with them they would have transported all that gallant spirit, which had stood vmdismayed amid defeat and desolation ; that virtuous pride and indignant sense of honour, which had impelled them to assert their independence; all that love of their country, which had rendered the nation great, and made the people happy. It must not then be urged, that the affection, which we feel for our native land, owes its exist- ence entirely to local circumstances'^, though it cannot be doubted, that a love for the place of our birth contributes to heighten and support that more elevated sentiment. Kindred as the feelings may appear, they are distinct in their * Burke's Works, vol. iii. p. 475, 4to. edition. THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 237 origins ; but if we are disposed to pursue the inquiry by an examination of the reasons of our becoming attached, and, as it were, rooted to a particular spot, the cause must be sought in that faculty, by which we are enabled to accommodate ourselves to external circumstances, and which, in common with other intellectual and moral ener- gies, results from the operation of the two prin- ciples of habit and association. Habit '^ enhances the value even of inanimate objects, and imparts to them an interest, of which we are scarcely conscious, till by degrees they have grown so familiarized, as to seem almost es- sential to those enjoyments, with which our calmer and more vivid sensations of happiness are alike connected. By the laws of association, the idea of that happiness is inseparably connected with the place of our residence, with our mode of living, with the persons and actions of those who are dear to us, with every pursuit which engages our attention, and every gratification which warms our heart. The same principles are likewise the source of that fond adherence to national customs and manners, by which the prejudices of each people are kept alive, and the peculiarities of their na- tional character preserved. Edward the first, when he issued his orders for the destruction of d Stewart's Philosophy of the Human Mind, p. 278, 279. 238 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. the bards*, after his conquest of Wales, adopted a pohcy, unjust, indeed, and inhuman, but such as tended eventually to quell the animosity of the vanquislied. Their resistance was no longer roused by the recital of those deeds of ancient prowess, with which the idea of their country's glory had been formerly associated, and subjec- tion gradually became less burdensome, as the retrospect of liberty was more remote. Association and habit never perhaps so effec- tually cooperated with the moral feelings and social disposition of mankind, in advancing civil union and happiness, as in Switzerland. In th6 strange and troubled aspect, however, which the condition of the Evu'opean world now presents to our view, little more remains than the remem- brance of her freedom and greatness. For the proof, then, of our assertion, we must recall those days of prosperity, in which her hardy sons, enamoured of their native mountains, could look on milder climates and more fruitful plains with- out one envious emotion. Their implements of industry and art^, their fields, their cottages, and * Hume's England, vol. ii. 243. The force of this feeling extends even to national dress ; and the act of parliament, by which the Highlanders, after the rebellion in 1745, were prohibited from wear- ing the military dress of their ancestors, had its origin in the same policy. ^ The well-known effects of the celebrated national air, entitled the Ranz-des-Yaches, on the Swiss soldiers, when absent on foreign THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 239 all the scenery once comprised within the magic circle of their home, were justly regarded with affection ; but the general love, which they bore to their country, was more dignified in its nature, more vigorous in its operation : it was allied to all persons and all things, which make life itself de- sirable ; it was diffused through friends, kindred, and neighbours ; it inspired them with reverence for the upright officer of justice, and the hallowed minister of religion ; it bade them defy every danger, and brave even death itself, in support of that system of polity, to which they were in- debted for personal security and national inde- pendence. • The instincts, on which the love of our country is founded, are, as it were, inscribed on our minds by the hand of nature. How can we other- wise account for its universal ascendency ? what cause can we assign for that activity, with which it is endowed, which absence cannot weaken, which old age itself serves only to invigorate, which may be suspended, but not destroyed, by the allurements of gain, which is animated but not depressed even by the terrors of persecution? Dreadful were the cruelties, to which the Portu- guese Jews were exposed in the fifteenth century, service, afford a convincing proof of their passionate fondness for their country, as well as an excellent illustration of the influence of association, Beattie's Essays, p. 475. 4to. Rousseau, Diction, de Musique, vol. ii. p. 500. edit. Amst. 240 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. and which terminated in their final expulsion from Portugal. Still, however, did they retain so ob- stinate a partiality for that country, which had been the scene of all their sufferings, that they devised means of importing earth from Lisbon, which they preserved almost with the fondness of a miser for his treasures, and which on their death-beds they solemnly conjured their surviving friends to place, as a sacred deposit, in their graves. Thus we see that at that period, when all objects are divested of the superfluous additions of custom and prejudice, when they appear in the simple colours of reason and truth, when every trifling thought is engrossed in reflections of far higher moment, even then do we feel solicitous about the dust with which our own remains are destined to mingle, and with a last effort of our imaginations cling fondly to our native soil. The superstitious veneration of the natives of savage regions for the sepulchres of their fore- fathers, is only a different shade of the same feeling, giving force and animation to their local attachments ''. The reply of a chief of one of the Canadian tribes, on being pressed to emigrate, is e Murphy's Travels in Portugal, p. 231. •' jNIagnuin est enim eadeni habere monumenta majorum, eisdem ut sacris, sepulchra habere conimunia. Cic. Off. i. 17. THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 21-1 memorable from the natural turn of the senti- ment, and noble simplicity of the expression. " We were born," answered he, " in this land ; here are our fathers buried : can we then say to the bones of our fathers, arise, and come with us into a foreign land ' ?" In all these instances the agency of the same principles is observable, displaying themselves certainly under different modifications, but spring- ing from one source, and directed to one common end. Referrible then as they are to the primary and established laws of our constitution, it might reasonably be supposed, that they should prevail in all ages and in all countries, diversified, per- haps, in their external features, but not in- trinsically changed by any of the various causes which affect the manners and morals of a nation. It has, however, been supposed, that the very name, and with that name all the affectionate impressions connected with the idea of country, are totally unknown among the Tartar hordes and wandering Arabs. The exception is futile ; for among a people who have no settled habita- tions, it were absurd to expect the same customs and sentiments which are found in a more regular form of society. Yet the general principle even among them does not lie dormant. In every change of place they acknowledge the relations ' Raynal, Hlstoire des Indes, vol, iv. p. 14. 4to. V. I. P. II. Y 242 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. of a family and a tribe, they defend and are defended, they are jealous of strangers, and fierce against enemies ; and the length of time through which they have retained the singularity of their character, evinces the force of that principle by which other men in other situations are brought and kept together in social union. Let them once become stationary ^, and they will cultivate the arts of peace ; they will make some progress in civilization, they will concentrate on one spot all those benevolent affections which they experienced and cherished, when conve- nience induced or necessity compelled them to wander, and they will gladly surrender a portion of rude liberty for the advantages of established government. An answer no less conclusive may be given to the weak objection of a celebrated writer", who, not confining his scepticism to religious topics, has asked, whether the Jews can possibly feel any love for their country? As a nation, indeed, they have no country ; but, like their ancestors, who in their captivity remembered Zion, the Jews of modern days look to the promised land as an inheritance from which they are not excluded for ever. They still keep in view the imj)ort of those prophecies which hold up to them the ■i Gilbert Stewart's View of Society in Europe, p. 25, 26. ' Voltaire, Diction. Philosophique, art. " Patrie." THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 243 restoration of their own worship and their own power in the country of their forefathers. The ideal anticipation of the holy city reconciles them to the aggravated hardships of their lot ; it endears to them the very religion for which they suffer, and prepares them for transplanting the whole stock of their social feelings and social interests to that place, which a happier posterity will be enabled to describe as the land of their nativity. Hitherto the love of our country has been considered principally in the light of an affection, grounded on the social propensity of man ; con- sonant to his uncorrupted feelings, approved by his matured reason, and indispensable to his per- sonal happiness. Its effects on individual enjoy- ment and the general well-being of society have been at large unfolded ; but our view of the sub- ject must necessarily be confined and imperfect, without some investigation of the influence which belongs to patriotism as an active political prin- ciple. Patriotism is the love of our country, wrought into a great and noble sentiment, which summons to its aid every better portion of human excel- lence. If it be not, strictly speaking, a moral feeling, it is at least an exalted passion, which gives vigour and efficacy to our exertions as citizens ; which strengthens our constancy and animates our valour, which heightens our con- 244 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. tempt of danger, and inflames our impatience of oppression. In its nature it is so far political, as generally to presuppose a government regularly instituted, or at least a community, subsisting under some mutual compact, and consolidated by some conunon interest. In the rudiments of society few traces of its existence can be found ; but they distinctly appear, when settlements have been formed, and when agriculture, by opening an avenue to national wealth, has induced the necessity of civil authority. Among barbarous nations, patriotism operates rather as a momentary impulse than as a fixed principle, and is characterized chiefly by personal acts of bravery, or by a savage spirit of self-de- fence. Its ferocity is softened by the progressive refinement of manners, while the sentiment derives fresh strength from the customs and institutions of civilized society. It is then that men begin to survey their country with mingled reverence and affection ; their valour kindles at the records of former victories ; their pride is awakened by the monuments of national magnificence. Laws be- come venerable from age, and property more valuable by hei'editary tenure. The sense of the present is associated with the recollections of the past, and the hopes of the future : and in the bosoms of the great and good, their passions, their prejudices, their regard for their natural and social interests, are but so many assisting THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 245 streams to swell that tide of patriotism, which sweeps before it every partial wish, and over- whelms every inferior consideration. It has not unfrequently been imagined, that some particular forms of government were more immediately conducive than others to the spon- taneous and habitual growth of this sentiment ; and, from a general view of the effects which have arisen from its influence, much theoretical reasoning has been deduced. That enthusiastic ardour which the Greeks and Romans evinced for their country, was probably derived in part from the nature of their political institutions ; but a part also must be attributed to their super- stitious tenets, and to the force of early education. Patriotism too, it may be remarked, has always been more intense in small and infant states, where union for the purposes of self-preservation is more indispensably necessary "". The renown likewise of the heroes of ancient story is indebted for no inconsiderable portion of its brightness to their mode of warfare, which, by rendering per- sonal courage more effective, rendered it at the same time the object of higher estimation. Pro- digies of valour, by which the fate of a kingdom is decided, are now rarely performed ; and victory inclines much more to the side of skill, than either of physical strength or individual prowess ". " Hume's Essays, ii. p. 11. " Playfair on the Causes of the Decline of Nations, p, 4, 5. Y 3 246 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. It seems probable, that the judgment of Mon- tesquieu" was dazzled by the splendid effects of this passion in Greece and in Rome, when he assigned to monarchies the principle of honour, and limited patriotism, or virtue, as he terms it, exclusively to republics. A distinction is thus proposed which history does not warrant ; for a public sense of honour is no more effectual with- out a passionate love for our country, than pa- triotism is genuine, when deficient in a watchful jealousy of national character. It is an opinion, from which Englishmen may well be excused for withholding their assent, since it is confuted by their own preeminence in arts and in arms, by the power and stability of their empire, and the pro- longed duration of their laws and constitution. Wliatsoever may be the determination of theo- rists on the question started by Montesquieu, it cannot be denied, that a despotic state must be injurious to the proper efficacy of patriotism, o Esprit des Loix, torn. i. chap. iii. v. 7. The instance of Britain may, perhaps, not be considered as a full refutation of IMontesquieu's assertion, since the mixed nature of its government, in which many of the principles of a republic are visible, must always have exerted a powerful effect on the manners and morals of its inhabitants. We may ask, however, with confidence, whether it was not patriotism which animated Louis the ninth and Henry the fourth of France, when they studied the real honour of their crowns ; which induced Peter to forego the pomp of a court, and submit to manual labour; which filled the breast of Gustavus Vasa of Sweden ; and which is evident in many of the struggles for liberty and independence which are recorded in the pages of modern history. THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 247 since it is subversive of the very basis on which social order is constructed. No country can either be loved, or be worthy of love, where the citizens are slaves, or where their rights and property are not respected. Liberty and pa- triotism are, in truth, conjenial; nor is there a safer criterion of the virtue or happiness of a people than tlie height to which their attachment for their country is raised, and the difficulties which they are prepared to encounter in rescuing it from danger or exalting it to glory. It may, indeed, be easier to bring forward kings and heroes who have graced the theatre of the woi'ld, than to explore the humbler scenes of life, and draw from their obscurity those persons who have benefited their country by means less brilliant, but equally meritorious ; yet let it not be hence inferred, that patriotism is confined to elevated stations, or useful only on pressing emergencies. Wisdom may be as salutary in the cabinet as valour is needful in the field ; public duties may be no less momentous in the repose of peace than in the tumults of war ; skill and in- dustry may increase the treasures of a country, talents and learning may add to its celebrity, and every faculty with which man is gifted may be directed to the public advantage p. P Non is solus reipublica; prodest, qui tuetur reos, et de pace telloque censel : sed qui juventutem exhortatur, qui, in tanta bo- norum praeceptorum inopia, virtute instruit animas, qui ad pe- 248 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. It should never be forgotten, that the corrup- tion of moraUty is the parent of pohtical evil : but while the bulk of a people are untainted with vice, little need be dreaded from external vio- lence, or intestine commotion. Private life, it has been well said'', is the nursery of the com- monwealth ; and though nature may have denied us ability to become conspicuous, she has at least left us the power of being innocent. Even if we occupy no prominent station in society, we still may show the sincerity of our patriotism ; we may be obedient to laws, and respectful to magistrates; we may relieve the needy, and encourage the diligent; by our precepts, as well as by our example, we may enforce the exercise of piety, of justice, and of loyalty, and consult the true pro- sperity of our country, by making some addition to the stock of national virtue. Little, indeed, would patriotism merit our ap- probation, were its vitility restricted to military services ; yet much of the censure to which it has been exposed, has arisen from such an error. Its object is assuredly the welfare of our own com- munity; but this object ceases to be praiseworthy, when it is pursued through blood and havoc, or attained by ruining the happiness or disturbing cuniam luxuriamque cursu ruentes prensat ac reprehendit, is in private publicum negotium agit. Cicero. 4 Burke's W'otU, vol. i. p. 400. THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 249 the tranquillity of the world. In this state of moral imperfection, wars may be ranked in the catalogue of evils almost unavoidable ; yet they spring from the outrages and vices of mankind, not from their love of their country. That love would rather teach them to bless their fellow- citizens than to destroy them ; to consult their peace than to hazard their security ; to augment their wealth than to exhaust their resources. The selfish and ambitious also, while they conceal their partial projects under the mask of a love for their country, do homage to the dignity and purity of that principle, which they practically violate. No human institutions can be faultless ; but let them not all be censured indiscriminately, because they sometimes from accident have fallen short of their proper use, and sometimes from design have been perverted to mischievous pur- poses. Patriotism may diminish the evils, which it cannot entirely prevent ; and, by putting us in present possession of partial good, it affords aid and encouragement to the future labours of men, who are ambitious to be distinguished as the friends of the human race. It remains for me to notice one objection', which neither the moralist nor the patriot will •■ Shaftesbury's Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour. Soame Jenyns's View of the Internal Evidence of Christianity, p. 46. 250 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. presume to treat with iiulifFerence. It is said, that the love of our country is not recommended by the authority of Scripture, and that the pas- sions which it excites are directly at variance with the spirit of Christian charity. One plain reply to the former part of the objection is, that, though this love is not positively commanded, it is neither expressly nor virtually forbidden. It is, moreover, as we have proved, not only in- cluded within the doctrine of universal philan- thropy, but is in fact the only practicable method by which we can hope to fulfil the benevolent intentions of the Gospel. The history of the Jews, who lived under the special government of the Deity, affords illustrious instances of this very patriotism, which is condemned ; and the great Author of our religion shed tears of pity and anguish, when he contemplated and pre- dicted the approaching desolation of Jerusalem. The weight of the second part of the objection is wholly removed by the discrimination which we have made between real and pretended patriotism. We grant, that, from intemperate zeal, or mis- guided views, the love of our country has some- times impelled men to the commission of flagrant and pernicious enormities ; but has not the same love been productive of actions eminently and permanently favourable to the hapjnness of indi- viduals, and the safety of communities ? Has it not lifted its avenging arm against cruelty and THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 251 impiety? Has it not protected our coasts from -invasion, our hearths from violence, and our altars from profanation ? In the dreadful and pro- tracted calamities of war, the meek and the help- less may have been oppressed, the wise and the virtuous may have been sacrificed ; but, if the heart of man were utterly callous to the feelings of genuine patriotism, there would have been no safeguard for civil liberty, no vestige of social union, no scope for those arduous and exalted duties, which are prompted by benevolence and enjoined by religion : our tribunals would be thrown down, our temples would be forsaken, and in the sequestered village, and in the crowded city, the sweet voice of peace would be heard no more. Patriotism then, inspired by nature and au- thorized by reason, is thus hallowed by the sanction of Christianity. The present situation of Europe, however, will of itself be sufficient to furnish practical conviction, that the existence of the sentiment is incompatible with a state of national subjugation. In the real, or even in the apprehended privation of independence, the glory of a country, or the well-being of its in- habitants, must be equally delusive and visionary. Commerce and the elegant arts would be neg- lected ; nor could we expect either opportunities or incentives for the calm pursuits of science and philosophy; the mind, by continual irritation, 252 THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. would grow insensible to every charm of domestic virtue ; or, by debasement, would be unfitted for every manly enterprise. Such a state, in short, is absolutely hostile to the diffusion, if not to the attainnient, of that moral and intellectual im- provement among individuals, which facilitates and ensures the general amelioration of society. Political freedom, therefore, should be the aim both of the philanthropist and of the patriot ; nor even can the Christian indulge an hope, that those mild and benevolent virtues, which pe- culiarly characterize his religion, and which are so admirably calculated to bless the human spe- cies, should ever reach their full perfection in any country, which is subjected to the dictates of tyranny, or where the free energies of action are overawed by the dread of arbitrary force, or controlled by the encroaching influence of some powerful neighbour. CHARLES PARR BURNEY, A.B. Merton College. 1809. IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MO- DERNS BEEN LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS? Ktivoiffi 5' av ovTig Tuiv, ot vvv ^poroi thiv inixOovioi, fiaxtoiTO, Iliad A. That human society has a natural tendency to improvement, is a truth obvious in itself, and strikingly confirmed by experience. By the agency of this principle, the institutions and man- ners, the sciences and arts, of social life, seem to be progressively impelled towards perfection; and, though occasionally checked by accidental obstructions, they return invariably to their original course ; as the shoots of a plant, though continually impeded, will uniformly resume their upright growth, when the obstacles that opposed it are removed. If the existence of this principle of improve- ment should be disputed in those points, where moral excellence is concerned, it must at least be allowed that it operates very powerfully in those, which relate to invention or discovery. For here, the facility, with which each succeeding V. I. p. ir. z 254 IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MODERNS BEEN improver avails himself of the labours of his pre- decessors, enables us, when once the foundations of an art or science have been laid, to enlarge and embellish the superstructure to an extent, which knows no limits ; while, by means of those contrivances, which so wonderfully facilitate the transmission of knowledge, we can derive nearly as much advantage from the labours of our an- cestors, as from those of ovn* contemporaries. Accordingly, in the numerous circle of arts, which are employed about the conveniences of life, our superiority to the ancients is generally admitted. Two inventions, which were originally the productions of accident, have contributed to give us a decided superiority in the arts of navi- gation and war; while a new and superior method of investigation has proved of incalculable ad- vantage in all those, which depend on the various branches of natural philosophy. But when we turn our attention to the fine arts, we cannot but observe, that the superiority of modern times is either wholly lost, or at least considerably lessened. The weight of ancient excellence seems to be augmented, while a pro- portionate diminution on the opposite side is no less observable. Amidst the trepidations of a balance, which now becomes so nearly adjusted, a discerning eye may perhaps perceive a pre- ponderance on the side of antiquity. But even those, who are of a contrary opinion, must at LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS. 253 least admit, that our improvements, in this class of pursuits, have by no means kept pace with those which have been made in the useful arts. The specimens, which have come down to us, oi their skill in sculpture and architecture, in poetry and oratory ; specimens, which are still acknow- ledged models for modern imitation, form a strong argument of their positive excellence, if not of their comparative superiority. In music and in painting their progress cannot be estimated with any degree of certainty; but we may fairly imagine it to have been far from contemptible, since these arts were studiously cultivated by a people, who displayed, in other points, the highest degree of taste and genius. That the ancients, then, if not actually superior to us in the elegant arts, approached us, at least, much nearer in them than in the useful arts, and much nearer than, at first sight, we could have expected, will perhaps be universally allowed. And as this disproportionate excellence opens a field for much curious speculation, an investi- gation of the causes, which produced it, may prove both interesting in itself, and useful in our subsequent inquiry into the actual state of com- parison between the ancients and moderns. Without recurring to the fancifvd notions of Milton, with respect to the degeneracy of later times, or attempting to explain the influence, which soil and climate may possess over the dis- ^5G IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MODERNS BEEN positions and intellects of men, we may safely determine, that, as nature has distrihuted to dif- ferent countries the advantages of fertility in un- equal proportions, so she has poured on some nations, with greater profusion than on others, the richer endowments of genius and imagination. The inhabitants of Greece were, in this respect, highly favoured. To the external advantages, which they possessed, was added an extraor- dinary portion of natural acuteness and delicacy of taste ; qualities, which, it is said, are still to be found in their descendants, though repressed by the iron hand of despotism. The Romans were, perhaps, not so fortunate ; and, though they borrowed largely from the Greeks, they were seldom able to equal them. The facility, indeed, with which they availed themselves of the talents of a foreign nation, probably acted as . ^ a check upon domestic ingenuity, as importations ^(^ <) I are found unfavourable to the increase of manu- r\.t ( ftictures. ^ As far, therefore, as the gifts of nature are concerned, no people had a fairer chance than the Greeks, of becoming highly eminent for pro- ductions of genius ; and various circumstances concurred to give full play to their superiority of talent, and to advance the arts among them to a high degree of perfection. Of these, that which principally arrests our attention is, the division of that country into a LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS. ^57 great number of small independent states, all en- joying liberty, and mutually engaged in perpetual rivalsliip. The spirit of emulation must have been a powerful incentive to a people naturally ingenious : and the mass of talent roused into action by this minute division must have been proportionally great. In larger states, a con- siderable number of highly-gifted individuals must be forced into the throng of undistinguished mediocrity. But these circumstances, which contributed to promote the advancement of the fine arts, had not an equal tendency to encourage the useful arts. — The number of independent neighbouring states necessarily produced continual wars, with their attendant, poverty ; but it is in the midst of wealth and of tranquillity, that commerce and manufactures, together with most of the useful arts, are found to flourish and improve. But not only will the same causes frequently produce different effects upon pursuits of dif- ferent kinds ; the pursuits themselves may oc- casionally be found to interfere. In those large and prosperous states, where the acquisition of wealth is pursued with the greatest earnestness, and the useful arts cultivated with the greatest attention, we shall generally find the separation of professions, and the division of labour, carried to the highest extent. — Now that this concen- tration of the powers of each individual advances z3 258 IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MODERNS BEEN each art to the highest degree of perfection, and tends to the increase of private as well as of national wealth, is a maxim which will be ad- mitted without dispute ; but it is no less true, that both this division of labour, and the wealth, which is produced by it, have, when increased beyond a certain point, a tendency unfavourable to liberality of mind, to liveliness of genius, and to elegance of taste. As the sphere of action, in which an individual is employed, becomes nar- rower, the greater skill will he acquire in the performance of his part; but his mind at the same time becomes proportionably contracted, and he is at length degraded to the condition of a mere machine. Whereas in a smaller, or a less populous community, or in one, which has made less progress in manufactures and in trade, the same person being obliged to perform several offices, not always very closely connected with each other, his mind becomes expanded by taking a wider range : his deficiency in that readiness, which results from long practice and concen- trated attention, must frequently be supplied by thought and contrivance : and it is precisely from this variety of pursuits, and this exertion of in- tellect, that we are to expect liberality of mind, and refinement of taste. To this we may add, that a long and undivided attention to the pursuit of wealth, tends of itself to produce a sordid turn of thought, to divest the LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS. 259 mind of all relish for works of genius, and to establish a habit of referring everything to utility, and of measuring utility by gain. If these remarks should be found conformable to reason and experience, our acknowledged su- periority to the ancients in commerce and national wealth, might prepare us to expect an inferiority in the elegant arts. It is certain, that among the ancients them- selves we are far from finding these arts in- separably connected with public prosperity. It was during the distresses of a protracted war against the Peloponnesians, that Athens produced many of those works of genius, which we admire at this day: while, on the other hand, the Cartha- ginians, a people certainly not destitute of inge- nuity, and in wealth and prosperity superior to all their contemporaries, seem to have made little or no progress in the polite arts. The causes that have hitherto been assigned are such as relate principally to the parties con- cerned: there are others that may have con- tributed to produce the same effect, which arise out of the nature of the case itself. The advantage which men may derive from the labours of those who have gone before, has already been mentioned, as leading us to expect a superior degree of excellence in later times. It is obvious that this advantage must principally arise from their being able with facility and readi- 260 IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MODERNS BEEN ness to avail themselves of those discoveries, and to apply those rules, which have necessarily cost their predecessors much time and laborious in- vestigation. But in those productions of genius and taste, of which we have been speaking, this advantage is wonderfully lessened. Those rules, by which the subtile emanations of fancy are di- rected and controled, are of a nature too exqui- sitely fine to be marked out with the same accu- racy, or transmitted to posterity with the same certainty, as in mechanical arts, and strict systems of science. It is far from being insinuated, that in produc- tions of the other description, the artist works at random, and pleases only by chance ; or that a diligent observation of the most admired models is not highly serviceable, in stimulating the genius and correcting the taste ; but it must be admitted, that these refined and delicate rules cannot be adequately conveyed in writing, and consequently will not enable us in these, as in other points, systematically to improve upon our predecessors, or, in some cases, even to imitate them success- fully. Another consideration of importance to the present question is, that in the fine arts we find our scope for improvement confined and deter- minate ; while discovery in the sciences, and con- trivance in the useful arts, seem to be altogether boundless. In the former class of pursuits, the LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS. 261 end proposed is to give pleasure, by affecting certain principles in the constitution of the human mind, which must be in all ages substantially the same : in each department of these, therefore, we may imagine to ourselves a perfect and unvarying model, and may measure different degrees of ex- cellence, by the nearness of their approaches to it. On the other side, a boundless field is opened to us for improvement. Imagination itself can fix no limits to our researches into the secrets of nature : nor can any period be assigned to the progressive advancement of those inventions of human ingenuity, by which, while the labour of man is diminished, his comforts are multiplied, or his wants anticipated. In these pursuits, there- fore, we are enabled, by the strict rules on which they proceed, and by their interminable nature, not only to derive the full benefit from the labours of our predecessors, but to continue our improve- ments to a boundless extent : and, accordingly, it is in these that we are to seek for the superiority of later times. We have seen, then, that some of the causes, which must tend most to promote the progressive improvement of the useful arts and the sciences, do not operate equally on the elegant arts. But, in addition to this, there are impediments to the progress of the latter, to which the former are not liable. In the fine arts, the mere passion for variety tempts men to diversify the chaste models 262 IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MODERNS BEEN of their predecessors with needless alterations and additions ; which soon become agreeable from the influence of association; and, continuing to mul- tiply, gradually corrupt the public taste, and cause the productions of genius to degenerate from their original simplicity. It is from the operation of the same principle that an artist, or a writer, of brilliant talents, but incorrect taste, contributes so much to mislead the pubUc judgment; his de- fects are consecrated by their union with his ex- cellences, and, from the force of association, con- tinue to be admired in themselves, even when those excellences are wanting. Hence it is, that there is always a fashion in works of genius, and that this fashion, being founded on circumstances entirely independent of the fixed principles of taste, tends not only to obstruct the progress of the fine arts, but even to promote their decline. In science, on the contrary, and on the other class of arts, these causes cannot operate. The systems, which are founded on demonstrable truth, are incapable of being shaken by caprice ; the arts, which are essential to the well-being of society, can never be aftected by the vicissitudes of fashion. In these pursuits, therefore, the pro- gress of improvement is unimpeded, and it is in these that the moderns are decidedly superior to the ancients. In the fine arts, we have seen, on a general view of the subject, that this superiority, if it LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS. 263 exists at all, is at least much less conspicuous. But to determine the actual state of comparative excellence, we must have recourse to a separate examination of the arts, and consider the re- spective success of the ancients and the moderns in each. In the prosecution of this design, it would be too long and too laborious a task, to enter deeply into the principles of any art ; or to engage in any controversy that can only be decided by an in- duction of particulars. It will be sufficient to examine the commonly received opinions on each subject, and briefly to inquire into the grounds on which they rest. There is, perhaps, no art in which the su- periority of the ancients is more generally allowed than sculpture; in which the fine models that have come down to us, are still appealed to as the standard of excellence. In painting, on the other hand, the advantage is generally supposed to be on the side of the moderns. Now it appears natural that sculpture should in its origin have been prior to painting; it was a more obvious, and therefore probably an earlier attempt to shape one substance into the form of another, than to represent, on a flat surface, by means of light and shade, the appearance of a solid body. Of the former art, some traces are to be found even among the most uncultured savages. The in- habitants of New South Wales, though completely 2G4 IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MODERNS BEEN destitute of clothing, and frequently of habitations, are yet reported to have made some rude attempts at sculpture. That the art, which was of earliest origin, should also be the first to attain perfection, is no more than might reasonably be expected : but there is no doubt that its progress was much accelerated by the peculiar nature of their re- ligious worship, which required that the objects of their adoration should be exhibited in sensible representations. And sculpture being, from what- ever cause, preferred to painting for religious purposes, the frequency of demand for images of their gods and heroes, uniting with the dignity of the subject to call forth all the powers of the statuary, soon raised this art to transcendent excellence. On the other hand, the many advantages which painting possesses naturally established in time its just claim to superior attention. The art which represented the form only, without the colours of its objects, was gradually supplanted by that which could, with equal fidelity, imitate both. And thus those artists, who possessed the most aspiring genius, were led to cultivate paint- ing, while sculpture was comparatively neglected. But, besides this cause, there is no doubt that the astonishing perfection of the ancient sculptors contributed also in a great degree to divert the genius of the moderns into a different channel. For we must remember, that while, in the useful LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS. 265 arts, the inventions of the ancients only open a door to the moderns for still farther improve- ments ; in the fine arts, the same cause is fre- quently found to have a contrary tendency : and in none of them has this been more fully exempli- fied than in sculpture. The excellence of the ancient models, which have come down to us, is such as to preclude a modern artist from the hope of excelling, or even equalling them. That principle, therefore, which has given birth to the finest performances in every art, the principle of emulation, is, by this means, weakened or ex- tinguished, and men betake themselves to some other pursuit, in which the highest posts are yet unoccupied. This cause has probably contributed more than any other to produce a dechne in sculpture, and subsequently in painting also. The unrivalled masters of Greece, in the former art, and those whom Italy afterwards produced in the latter, excite astonishment, but repress emulation. And this cause produces the more striking effects, because it operates chiefly upon exalted geniuses. For great and elevated minds are generally the most ready to admire excellence in others, and the most ambitious to attain to it themselves. The former, therefore, of these principles, when they have a very perfect model before them, makes them despair of surpassing it ; and the latter prompts them to employ their talents in V. I. p. II. A a 266 IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MODERNS BEEN some other pursuit, where the hope of preemi- nence may stimulate tliem to exertion. — For it is to be observed, that in the fine arts, the desire of excellence is the principal, if not the only incen- tive, upon whose operation we can uniformly rely: while, in the useful arts, the demand for their productions being continual, necessity, and the desire of gain, will be a sufficient stimulus, even where emulation is extinguished. The loom and the forge will never be neglected, however infe- rior their productions to those of another age or country. But the sculptor or the painter, when contemplating a model, whose beauties he cannot hope to equal, will probably relinquish his attempt in despair. The remarkable excellence of the ancients in architecture next arrests our attention ; an art in which, as well as in the foregoing, their supe- riority is generally admitted. Besides the causes which have already been assigned, as aiFecting the fine arts in general, the excellence of this, doubtless, owes much to the pomp of their wor- ship and to their democratic form of government. It is in a republic, that each individual feels the most pride in the splendour of public edifices ; these he considers as in a certain degree his own property ; while the jealousy of the lower orders tends to repress the display of private and ca- pricious magnificence. Hence the genius of the ancient architects, especially among the Greeks, LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS. 267 was employed on sumptuous temples and the- atres : at the same time, the necessity of gaining the approbation of the multitude, subjected each work to the collective judgment of all the citizens: and thus prevented the public money from being squandered on buildings of rude and tasteless splendour. Hence, too, a lively emulation, and even ambition, was inspired into the artist ; the most eminent was selected by the concurrent voice of the people ; and, however extensive his design, it was readily supported by the munifi- cence of a whole community. Under these cir- cumstances, we might naturally expect that so ingenious a people should readily fall into a beautiful and correct style of building. Nor is it to be wondered at, that this style should after- wards have been debased by accidental corrup- tions, to which this art is even more liable than the others. For in architecture the end origi- nally pursued must always have been utility; a principle not fixed, like that of beauty, but vary- ing with all the accidental circumstances of cli- mate and customs; and aftewards, when ornament began to be an object of attention, men's taste pursued, in a certain degree, the same track which utility had marked out. It is evident, that this attention to a principle wholly independent of taste, must have subjected architecture to the influence of many accidental circumstances, which cannot affect those arts that are merely orna- 268 IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MODERNS BEEN mental. But when to this any other principle, independent of taste, is superadded, the liability to corruption becomes proportionably increased. Of this nature was that religious prejudice, which, in the middle ages, moulded a large class of buildings into the less elegant form of a cross ; and, in the structure of the Escurial in Spain, suggested a model still more fanciful and gro- tesque. Several new orders of architecture, indeed, arose about this period, some of which must be allowed to possess a high degree of merit, even by those who will not suffer them to rank with the Grecian : and the more correct judgment of later times has been employed to select their beauties, without preserving their defects. But, though the true principles of the art are now ascertained, so that the modern architect may imitate the works of the middle ages, vvithout danger of being infected with the false taste, which occasionally debases them ; yet we still refer to the ancients as our most correct models for grandeur, elegance, and simplicity. On tvu'ning our attention to polite literature, poetry first solicits our regard : an art, in which the productions of the ancients enjoy a high share of public admiration, in those very countries where they have been the most powerfully rivalled by the moderns. For it is not from a dearth of modern genius, that the poets of Greece and of LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS. 269 Rome are admired : on the contrary, these precious remains of antiquity are ever valued most highly by those nations, which have pro- duced the most excellent writers of their own. A strong proof how much the ancients have con- tributed to kindle the genius, and to refine the taste, of succeeding ages : a proof, that even if we have outshone them with the lustre we have borrowed from themselves, yet we cannot boast of having eclipsed them. The deference, indeed, which we show for the authority of the ancient poets, and the appeals we continually make to them, not perhaps as perfect models, but certainly as admirable examples, are a sufficient acknow- ledgment on our part, if not of actual superiority, at least of extraordinary excellence. But whatever may be our decision as to the comparative success of the ancients and moderns in the cultivation of poetry ; there is another art in which we may, without hesitation, pronounce the ancients decidedly superior ; an art, too, which has no small claim to our attention: for oratory, in whatever light it may be viewed with regard to its political utility, must indisputably rank high with the admirers of polite literature. The powerful influence which eloquence pos- sesses over the minds of the multitude, gave the orator so great an advantage in popular govern- ments, that interest soon prompted men to culti- vate the art in those states, which adopted that A a 3 270 IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MODERNS BEEN constitution : for we do not find tliat it made much progress even in Greece, while monarchy and ohgarchy prevailed. The unsuitahlcness of these governments to the cultivation of oratory is remarked by the author of the dialogue on the decline of eloquence at Rome : " Quod enim opus est longis in senatu sententiis, cum optimi cito consentiant? quid nudtis apud populum concio- nibus, cum de republica non imperiti et multi de- liberent, sed sapientissimus, et unus ?" But besides the advantages arising from their form of government, that half-civilized state of society, which prevailed among the Greeks and Romans at the period under considei'ation, was peculiarly calculated to favour the advancement of this art, A people altogether rude and bar- barous, are very powerfully affected, indeed, by eloquence, but their taste in it is likely to be faulty. On the other hand, a nation very highly refined, is less liable, perhaps, to be influenced by the arts of rhetoric. — It is in the intermediate state that the encouragement is held out to good orators, while those of inferior merit are rejected. The decline, therefore, of eloquence, has not, perhaps, been erroneously attributed to the wider diffusion of knowledge, which enables a modern audience to distinguish energy of expression from solidity of argument. But the select nature of our deliberative assemblies, the limited number of which a jury is composed, and the multitude LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS. 271 and precision of our laws, have probably had the greatest share in abridging the influence, which the orator formerly possessed. Bat, notwithstanding these circumstances, the cultivation of oratory may still be attended with most important advantages. And though the rhetorical artifices, which were formerly prac- tised, may be thought unsuitable to the present customs of society, as the style of Demosthenes was found by Cicero to be, in some respects, ill adapted to a Roman audience ; though, in many points, a deviation from our models, in some, perhaps, a more artful refinement, may be found necessary; still we must not conclude, that, be- cause it requires alterations, this art has wholly lost its influence. Men still have passions to be excited, imaginations to be pleased, and hearts to be affected ; and those who boast of the su- perior coolness of judgment in the moderns, should remember, that Caesar, who was, on one occasion, diverted from his settled resolution by the eloquence of Cicero, was the farthest of all men from being deficient in clearness of judg- ment and firmness of character. But, supposing the minds of the more en- lightened to be sufficiently fortified by cultiva- tion against the arts of the orator, there will still remain a large and important portion of the com- munity, with whom they will be as powerful as ever. For on the middle and lower orders the 272 IN WHAT ARTS HAVE THE MODERNS BEEN charms of eloquence possess an influence, which is truly important, and which has frequently been perverted to the worst of purposes. Whether so powerful an engine might not be brought to act with considerable force in the cause of truth ; whether it be wise to leave it altogether in the hands of the weak or the designing, is a question well worthy of consideration. Whatever can render virtue more engaging, or wise measures more popular, becomes a proper object of serious regard, even from the more cultivated part of mankind : and deserves to rank high, not only among the elegant arts, but among those that are conducive to the welfare of society. And till it can be proved that absurdity and falsehood are in themselves better suited to oratory than good sense and truth, we should admit no arguments against the use of the art, which are founded on the abuse of it. To the ancients, then, we must resort as our best instructors, and among them we must seek for the most perfect models, if we would restore this art to its former splendour. And not only in this, but in the whole circle of the fine arts, and more especially in every branch of polite literature, we shall find our advantage in habitu- ally consulting them. For besides the intrinsic merit of their performances, they afford us, what is of the highest value, a fixed standard, by which to regulate our judgment; a standard. LESS SUCCESSFUL THAN THE ANCIENTS. 273 which time cannot aUer, and which none of those accidental associations can affect, by which the passing opinions of the age are always liable to be corrupted. Thus, not only will the chaste simplicity of their productions contribute to im- prove and correct our taste, but the purity of that taste also will be best preserved against the capricious changes of fashion, by the established and permanent authority of our masters. Their authority we may surely respect, without paying implicit obedience to their laws : and some portion of their genius we may hope to imbibe, without falling into a servile imitation of their manner. And while these extremes are care- fully avoided, he may justly be accounted the truest friend to modern art, who turns our at- tention to the study of the ancients ; who warns us against neglecting those, whom all ages have allowed to be excellent, till we have the testimony of ages, equally strong, that they have been out- done. RICHARD WHATELY, A. B. Oriel College. 1810. ON THE ART OF PRINTING. IMPRIMAT HIS, CURA, MAECENAS SIGNA TABELLIS. Among the numerous inquiries that engage the human mind, there is none which appears to afford greater entertainment, or to be employed on an object more worthy our attention, than the searching into the origin of the various arts, tracing the improvements that have been made in each of them, and observing the advantages which mankind have derived from them. Such an in- quiry lays before us, as it were, an history of the progress of the human genius ; and, while it ex- hibits to us the different steps which mankind have taken to arrive at their present discoveries, serves also as a guide to direct us in the methods to be pursued in our own future researches. In contemplating the inventions of mankind, a very obvious distinction immediately presents itself; for they may be divided into such as are valuable for their vitility only, and such as con- tribute to ornament and elegance. The former 276 ON THE ART OF PRINTING. class are generally thought, beside the recom- mendation of their intrinsic worth, to have also another from their earlier origin and more remote antiquity. The truth of this opinion could not indeed be denied, were we to include under the denomination of useful arts only such as are employed in furnishing the necessaries for the defence and support of life, as it is most natural to suppose that mankind thought of the means of supporting their existence before they began to deliberate how to render it agreeable. But this class hath in reality a much wider extent ; for it is beyond all doubt, that whatever inventions tend to enlarge the powers of the human facul- ties, and by supplying their defects to assist our operations, must certainly possess a very great degree of utility. AVhence we shall easily per- ceive, that though those contrivances which supply us with the means of supporting and defending life, must have preceded every art of elegance and ornament, yet some discoveries, which undoubtedly deserve to be ranked in the class of the most useful, are of later date than many of the elegant arts. Of this we have nowhere a more striking in- stance, than in the art of printing, which, though not invented till these latter ages, when many of the elegant arts had been carried to the greatest perfection, must certainly be numbered among the arts most conspicuous for their use. For ON THE ART OF PRINTING. 277 among all the inventions of men, those which have contributed to preserve the memory of former discoveries, will ever be allowed to have conferred the greatest advantages on mankind ; since, as the human mind gains ground by slow degrees on ignorance, the preservation of former discoveries must be of the greatest consequence to our future progress, by presenting us with the fruits of the labour of former ages, and enabling us to begin our inquiries at the point which their dilififent researches had before arrived at : but over every former invention for these purposes, the art of Printing has most manifest superiori- ties, and seems to have carried the means of perpetuating knowledge to the highest pitch of improvement they are capable of receiving. So that on this consideration alone it would deserve a high place among the arts most distinguished for their utility. But its advantages are yet more extensive ; for it at the same time supplies us with a method of communicating our knowledge and ideas in a manner much more diffusive and correct, than any before known or practised ; as will more clearly appear on considering the expe- dients made use of for these purposes from the earliest periods of civilization. Language was undoubtedly at first the only method which mankind possessed for the commu- nication of their ideas, and the perpetuating their discoveries and history ; and accordingly, where- V. I. p. II. B b 278 ON THE ART OF PRINTING. ever the progress of civilization has been small, we find their arts handed down from father to son, and the history of their transactions, whether public or private, preserved chiefly in songs com- posed for that purpose. But men soon became sensible how precarious and uncertain such a method must be, depending for its continuance and success on numberless accidents, with this farther inconvenience, that where civilization had made a greater progress, they found frequent occasion of desiring, that their conceptions should be communicated at a greater distance of time and place, than it was possible for sounds, which are momentary and confined, to convey them. Hence the more permanent and extensive method of communicating ideas by signs or characters derived its origin. From the most ancient and obvious manner first attempted, by tracing out the images of such external objects as corre- sponded with the ideas men wished to convey, by the gradual improvements made in different ages and countries, they formed their various alphabets, and thus from a method of explaining the conceptions of our minds by delineating ex- ternal appearances, arose an art of expressing by arbitrary symbols the most simple articulate sounds, which, by their various connections, form the words of language. By these improvements the means of preserving the memory of former discoveries and occurrences attained to a much ON THE ART OF PRINTING. 279 greater excellence, since, by perpetuating not only the images of those external objects, the ideas of which were to be conveyed, but the words by which they were expressed, the lan- guage acquired a permanence that was before wanting, and the arts of record were wonderfully improved ; for language is the only method of accurately conveying sentiments, and there is no other way of describing the manners and passions of mankind in that clear and precise manner, as they in nature stand allotted to the various dis- tinctions in the species, and are found to con- stitute the several characters of individuals. Format enim natura prius nos intus ad omnem. Fortunarum liabitura ; juvat, aut impellit ad irara Post efFert animi motus interprete lingua. Yet still, far did this art of writing, even in its most improved state, fall short of what was to be wished for ; since, among the ancient eastern nations, where it was earliest brought to this perfection, learning was entirely in the possession of the priests, and was preserved as sacred in their colleges and temples; so that when these were overturned and destroyed, their learnino- perished likewise ; and afterwards, when learning became cultivated among the Greeks and Romans, though their laws or customs did not indeed con- fine it to any particular body of men, yet from the immense labour of transcribing, copies of 280 ON THE ART OF PRINTING. books were very slowly multiplied ; and learning, instead of being disseminated with rapidity, still remained confined to a few hands. So that the works of authors, who had written in the most elegant style, or on the most useful subjects, were continually exposed to be irrecoverably lost and destroyed, on account of the small number of copies, by the ravages of time, fire, or civil commotion, or by coming into the possession of men utterly ignorant of their value. Of the fatal efiects of the former of these causes, but too many examples might be cited from ancient his- tory ; and it is well known, what immense losses learning sustained by the latter of them, at the irruption of the northern nations into Europe ; when those barbarous people, who were not only illiterate themselves, but regarded literature with contempt (as supposing, that the elFeminacy and degeneracy, with which they fovmd the provinces of the Roman empire overwhelmed, proceeded from their refinements in the arts and attach- ment to learning), either destroyed the works of many authors, that had been preserved till that time, or by their utter neglect suffered the few copies that were extant to be lost. Many cen- turies elapsed before nations, bred up in the habits of aversion, showed any desire of im- proving their understanding by study ; while, in the mean time, the works of many authors, who had collected the discoveries and observations of ON THE ART OF PRINTING. 281 ages, perished, together with the hbraries in which they were reposited, during the rage of war and bloodshed. So that, when at last the posterity of these savage conquerors, having by degrees acquired a taste for literature, began to inquire after the arts and learning, which had so long lain neglected, few books were to be found, and many of those greatly injured by time, and the neglect in which they had lain : and, indeed, such was the unhappy state of learn- ing immediately before the invention of printing, that the means, which were taken for the revival of it, seemed to contribute still farther to its cor- ruption and detriment ; for, when the studious exerted a laudable zeal in searching for, and endeavouring to multiply, the copies of the re- maining manuscripts, the transcribers whom they employed did an incredible, and, in some cases, an irreparable injury to learning, by omitting some passages, and corrupting others, in the most valuable authors, while they were intent on nothing so much as promoting their own mer- cenary views by despatch and expedition. And here it is obvious to lament some other causes, which have contributed greatly to the corrupting of copies, the misrepresenting of ancient facts, and the defacing of truth ; for as much as the want of duplicates and a more easy and general access to the repositories of learning have given opportunities to frauds, which in this age would Bb3 282 ON THE ART OF PRINTING. never have been attempted, or would have been found ineffectual — the means of information being now too extensive, and knowledge too universally diffused to permit such impostures to prevail. By what appellation shall the forgeries, inter- polations, and corruptions of those ill-judging devotees and bigots be properly reproached, who, with a zeal the most injurious to real know- ledge, have attempted to defend what they call truth, that is, their own opinion, by suppressing facts or inventing fables, as they judged most conducive to the cause they had espoused? Ancient knowledge has suffered exceedingly by their means, and the more valuable any truth was, and the rarer the instruments of conveying and dispersing it, the more tempting was the object, and the easier was the prey to these mer- ciless invaders : and thus truth has oftentimes been sacrificed to the meanest and worst con- ceits of her enemies, who had it in their power, through the ignorance of others, to counterfeit a warm regard for her. Such were the dangers and injuries to which learning was exposed, by the imperfections of the means then made use of to propagate know- ledge ; and, though these misfortunes are by some thought to have fallen chiefly on orna- mental literature, yet as even that is thought a requisite part of education in a civilized country, every delay in the acquisition of it will be, in ON THE ART OF PRINTING. 283 event, a delay in the acquisition of useful know- ledge : and, since the whole that we possess, either of the useful or the ornamental arts, must be looked on as the collected discoveries of man- kind, from the earliest period of civilization, the want of an art which would more effectually have promoted the circulation of knowledge in former ages, or rendered its descent to posterity more regular and complete, has undoubtedly tended to diminish the number of our discoveries and the extent of our knowledge ; cutting us off" from many advantages which posterity should naturally derive from the labours and experience of their ancestors. So that the utility of printing is not more evinced by the advantages we have enjoyed since the discovery, than from the dis- advantages we labour under, and the losses we have sustained from the want of this excellent art in the earlier ages of the world, and the imperfections of every method then known or employed, to diffuse and communicate the know- ledge already attained. Sensible of all these inconveniences, that had attended the method of transcribing, and the losses they had sustained from the imperfections of it, the learned of all nations were disposed to receive the invention of printing, with the ad- miration due to the excellence, which it had already arrived at by the genius of Faust and his son-in-law. For, before the publication of the 284 ON THE ART OF PRINTING. Latin Bible, which may be justly regarded as the first complete production of the art, they had, by the invention of separate metal types, and a new kind of ink, which, by its thickness, enabled them to imprint each side of the leaf, highly im])roved the invention, in comparison of the first attempts that are said to have been made, by carving in relievo on wood the reverse of what was to be printed. This first method of printing has, indeed, by some authors, been sup- posed to be borrowed from the Chinese ; but this will appear very improbable, when we consider the immense distance between the north of Europe and China, and the little commerce that then subsisted between such remote parts of the world, however true it may be that the Chinese had used that method of printing long before any attempts of the kind were made in Europe. But, whatever first suggested that manner of printing, the Chinese can have no pretensions to the invention of separate metal types, as it is well known that their manner of writing could not admit of it, since their alphabet (if such it may be called) does not consist of single letters, but of whole words, of characters expressing each an entire and distinct idea, the number of which characters is at least ten thousand, though according to some authors much greater. After the publication of the Latin Bible, it became indeed generally known, that Faust and ON THE ART OF PRINTING. 285 his son-in-law were in possession of this art : yet so secretly had they carried on their business, that it was not for some time practised in any city of Europe, except Strasburgh ; where a press was attempted to be estabhshed by Gutten- bergh, who, having been an opulent goldsmith at Mentz, to whom Faust had been induced to com- municate part of his design, for the sake of the assistance of his wealth, and who afterwards fled from Mentz on account of a dispute be- tween them concerning the division of the pro- fits of the business. But Mentz being after- wards besieged and taken, the workmen whom Faust had been obliged to employ under the strictest bonds of secrecy, considering those obli- gations as now of no force, by the change of government, and desirous of enriching themselves by the practice of this new art, readily accepted the invitations they had received from most of the capital cities of Europe. So that before the end of the fifteenth century, printing was not only begun to be practised in Oxford, Rome, Venice, and Paris, but many places were become distinguished by their improvements in the art. Such were, at Venice, Aldus's invention of italics, and the printing of the Greek language first attempted and brought to perfection in Italy. Such also was the first Hebrew printing by a Jewish Rabbi at the town of Soncino in Italy, whence it was carried to Constantinople by his 286 ON THE ART OF PRINTING. son, and by his family dispersed through the other cities of Asia, with great secret encourage- ment from the Greek Christians and Jews, not- withstanding the severe prohibitions of Bajazet the second, and Sehm the first, his son. Thus this art, which has been found so favour- able to the propagation of knowledge, soon be- came dispersed throughout the greater part of the civilized world, being everywhere patronised by all men of learning, who, by comparing together the best manuscripts they could procure, have in some measure been able to correct the numerous mistakes which, from the negligence of trans- cribers and other accidents, had crept into ancient authors ; and the printers, being thus furnished with the best copies, have been able to produce editions distinguished by their accuracy as well as neatness; while the numbers thus printed have rendered books a common and easy purchase to any man of moderate fortune, which, before the invention of printing, were scarcely to be collected in any numbers, even by princes themselves. Hence the pursuit of knowledge is now far more liberal and delightful; and the student, instead of a long and laborious attendance on the school of each different philosopher, has it in his power, by the more satisfactory, as well as more compendious method of private study, to compare their various opinions, and by those means to ON THE ART OF PRINTING. 287 form his own with greater ease, as well as pre- cision and accuracy ; and thus the whole body of ancient and modern learning is become, since the invention of this art, of readier access and surer acquisition. Nor is the easier and more general communica- tion of all knowledge, both ancient and modern, the only advantage which learning has gained by the invention, but there is yet another dependent on the former, and of equal consequence to future ages : since now the continuance of learn- ing in the world is secured beyond the reach of any temporary or local barbarism, and we are now enabled to transmit our discoveries and reflections to the end of ages, which is an advan- tage peculiar to this method of conveying our knowledge ; since every other art of the kind is subject to the baleful influence of time or acci- dent ; — the works of the sculptor are reduced to dust, and paintings are still more liable to be destroyed, while this art alone serves to immor- talize the ideas committed to it, by renewing, without ceasing, the copies, and without diminish- ing in the least their value. Nor is its beneficial influence confined to the useful arts alone, since it becomes intimately con- nected with whatever is ornamental in the arts of man, as being the faithful register of the refined inventions of the sublimest geniuses in the most polished ages and countries ; and though the 288 ON THE ART OF PRINTING. productions of elegant artists may indeed be de- stroyed and perish, yet the descriptions of them being preserved by the press, will serve to raise in future artists the desire of rivalling their fame, and afford them light and example to guide and assist them in the endeavour; Avhile the works themselves, of elegant authors, become immortal, and retain their original excellence through every part of their duration. Such are the advantages which we derive from the progress of this art, while it serves to connect the most distant ages and countries, and forms as it were an universal republic of the learned. Whence it must have the most salutary influence on the minds of men in favour of, and in corre- spondence with, the Christian religion, while it unites all mankind in the pursuit of the same inquiries, and in the contemplation of the same ideas, and by thus establishing a communication of knowledge between difl"erent nations, by de- grees wears oft' those prejudices, which maintain distinction and animosity between them. It is, indeed, but natural that the press should continue to support the interest of religion, to the rescuing of which from the corruptions of the grossest superstition and ignorance it so greatly con- tributed about half a century from the time of its first invention, as well by the revival of ancient learning, as by so rapidly spreading throughout Europe the writings of the authors of that age, ON THE ART OF PRINTING. 289 and dispersing them not only among the learned, but throughout the body of the people. After all, it must indeed be allowed that this art has sometimes been employed to spread error and impiety with equal rapidity : but let us at the same time reflect, and too frequent occasion we have to observe, that those means, which, when well applied, do most effectually conduce to the best purposes, become, by abuse and misappli- cation, the most potent engines of mischief; and let us also recollect, what absurd and erroneous opinions were propagated and adopted long before the invention of printing, at a time when the combating them was rendered still more diffi- cult by the prejudice of every disciple in favour of his own school and master ; to the removal of which prejudice nothing has more effectually con- tributed than the invention of printing, which has at the same time enabled the friends of truth and religion to pursue the baleful steps of their adver- saries with an immediate antidote, and by multi- plying copies has precluded all possibility of de- fending erroneous opinions by corruptions and interpolations. So that this wonderful effort of human skill not only supplies the most sure methods of perpetuating every new discovery in the other arts and sciences, but at the same time affords the ablest assistance in the support of re- ligion, truth, and virtue. Since then it appears to be the true and v. I. p. II. c c 290 ON THE ART OF PRINTING. genuine tendency of this art thus to forward the designs of the greatest geniuses in works of the noblest nature and the most beneficial to mankind, we cannot wonder at its universal progress in the world, and the cultivation and encouragement it has found in all places of learning among which Oxford stands peculiarly distinguished, having been one of the first cities of Europe in courting and receiving it, and the learned of this university, having since cultivated it with such attention and success, that while it has exhibited to the public view their excellent works and elegant editions of ancient authors, spreading the fame of their erudition throughout the civilized world, it has become difficult to determine, whether they have done greater honour to the art, or the art to them. SAMUEL STREET, Queen's College. 1777. LIBERTY. KNOW TRUE LIBERTY -ALWAYS WITH RIGHT REASON DWELLS. MILTON. In directing our attention to the characteristics of the present age, there is no one, perhaps, with which we are so forcibly struck as that general custom, which every party has adopted, of choos- ing for itself a speculative system of principles upon every subject, which by curiosity or interest they have been incited to explore. Hence, whe- ther their minds are engaged in the deep re- searches of philosophical, or in unfolding the in- tricacies of political science, they raise up a superstructure of opinion, to which they resort for the protection and justification of that scheme which in their conduct they respectively pursue. In the prevalence, however, of this habit, which, from the different modes of thinking it has intro- duced, has sometimes given birth to the anger of disputation, and sometimes brought to the se- verest test the acuteness of human sagacity and 292 LIBERTY. the brilliancy of human wit, there can be little injury to apprehend, when it is restricted by that moderation which the sacred obligations of mo- rality and the dearest rights of society will obtain from all, upon whom the sense of their own dig- nity, and a regard for the public peace, have not lost their efficacy and importance. The custom to which I have here alluded has upon no occasion been exercised with greater alacrity, or pushed to a greater extent, than upon the momentous subject of Liberty. To the com- prehensiveness and magnitude of this principle, in which the duties and happiness of all beings are primarily concerned, we are to attribute the earnestness of discussion, and the variety of sen- timent, which have been employed in explanations of its nature and its end. Hence we may account too for that active spirit of penetration, which has carried its inquiries into the first foundations of government, and for that latitude of privilege, which every one asserts, to examine without con- straint every system, upon which the moral and political welfare of mankind may depend. The immediate and important influence, therefore, which the direction of this habit has upon the best interests of liberty, will be evident to all, who reflect that upon this subject almost every man establishes the right of private judgment for himself; that every feeling of his vanity, and every effort of his sagacity, is eagerly busied in LIBERTY. 293 drawing the most favourable conclusions for un- limited freedom ; and that from such conclusions have resulted the most dreadful outrages that have deformed the moral and political order of the world. The attempt, then, to describe in its true colours, and to fix within its true hmits, that to which the blindness of error and the turbu- lence of passion have given a shape so distorted, and a power so uncontrolled, must appear as the weightiest moment in the opinion of those, to whom the real liberties of mankind are valuable, in proportion as they are accurately understood, and temperately enjoyed. In the progress of our inquiry, it would be at once tedious and useless to define or treat the various kinds of liberty, according to the manner in which they have been represented to us, when multiphed'' by the labours of metaphysical ab- straction, or exaggerated by the zeal of enthusi- astic declamation. By denoting only the more prominent features of civil and political freedom, the grandeur and majesty of the subject will strike us with greater force, and the objects to which it points will exhibit their fullest measure of excellence and utility. Various have been the significations, and per- 3 Dr. Price enumerates four kinds of liberty, to each of which he affixes distinct explanations. See his Observations on the Nature of Civil Liberty and the Principles of Government, p. 2, fifth edit. ceo 294 LIBERTY. plexing the uncertainties, to which the term of liberty has given rise in the minds of different writers, and in the feehngs of different men. In governments, or, as we may more properly speak, in societies, which are regulated by general rules, civil liberty may be said to consist ** in the not being restrained'' by any law but what promotes in a greater degree the public welfare." To possess the power of doing what we ought to will, and to be exempt from any obligation to do what we ought not to will, is all that the most ardent love of freedom can exact, and all that the correctest views of virtue can require. Man, we are ready to allow, was first created free and in- dependent. But, from his sagacity and expe- rience, he was convinced that the blessings of peace and security could never be obtained, where the wildness of caprice and the fury of passion could wanton without distinction, and triumph without control. From the keen perception of his own interests, and for the means of his own preservation, he resigned the unlimited exercise '' This definition is used by Mr. Paley, in his Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy. See his chapter on civil liberty, vol. ii. p. 164, 8vo. edition. lilackstone has given the same explanation of the subject in his Commentaries. His words are these : That constitution, or frame of government, that system of laws is alone calculated to maintain civil liberty, which leaves the subject entire master of his conduct, except in those points wherein the pul)iic good requires some direc- tion, or restraint. See vol. i. p. 126, Oxford edition, 1775. LIBERTY. 295 of his will; he sought the enlargement of his liberty in the very laws which restrained it ; and his reason taught him to discover, that his happi- ness would be more effectually promoted by the limitation of freedom in others, than it could be impaired by the partial diminution of it in him- self. Hence did he discover the necessity of subjection to civil government, and for that fair gradation of ranks and orders, by which one part of the community exerts its salutary control over another, and by which mutual assistance and in- tercourse establish the personal security of indi- viduals, and fix the rights of property to those, whose joint efforts of industry and knowledge have amassed it. It was this principle which in- cited famihes, when they voluntarily formed them- selves into states, to submit to real inequality under conditions which restrained its excess. It was this principle, which, armed by general con- sent, and pointed to general utihty, stripped su- perior courage of all power to oppress, and in- vested it with empire for the purposes of universal protection ; which took from superior wisdom all opportunities of tyrannizing by cunning, and de- corated it with that mild authority, Avhere it could display its penetration and benevolence by admi- nistering to the good of others. In this expedient we are struck with the brightest representation of reciprocal benefit, between those whose talents befit them for command, and those whose duty 296 LIBERTY. teaches them to obey ; where the exalted state of the one does not imply the oppression and de- basement of the other, and where the scheme is poised by that nice exactness, which shall include the freedom and interests of both. For this advantage we are indebted to the art of civil government, whose theoretical elements are, perhaps, too complex to be comprehended by ordinary ability, but whose exertions are not, on that account, less worthy of our attention and admiration. The foregoing statement will suggest to our minds some serious reflections on the general laws of authority"^ and submission, of which, as they are attached by the closest con- nection to the present topic, it may be right to explore the origin and design. In surveying the moral condition of mankind, we are immediately convinced that, among beings of the same nature, there are not the same pro- pensities to integrity, or the same taste for virtue. The impulse of provocation, whether from real or seeming opposition, and the enticements of <^ Cicero represents, in the following energetic terms, the great necessity there is for authority to predominate in all human aflairs. Nihil porro tarn aptum est ad jus conditionemque natur?e (tjuod cum dico legem a me dici, nihilque allud intelligi volo) quam im- perium, sine quo nee domus ulla, nee civitas, nee gens, nee homi- num universum genus stare, nee rerum natura omnis, nee ipse mundus potest. Js'am ct hie deo paret, et huic obediunt maria terrseque, et liominum vita jussis suprema; legis obtemperat. See de Legibus, look iii. sect. 2. LIBERTY. 297 gain, will operate against the plainest dictates of reason, and the most solemn injunctions of re- ligion. But the intention of political institutions is to secure the tranqviillity and prosperity of its members ; and experience has discovered that their support must depend in the greatest degree on the coercive power, which balances the allure- ments of pleasure, and bridles the fierceness of passion, by the intimidating punishments which it prepares for their excess. In this view, there- fore, of the question, the arguments which press the restrictive operations of a government are advanced with a peculiar energy of truth, and bear the speediest conviction to every enlightened mind. They are justified by the very constitu- tion of our nature, and proved by the occurrences of every day. They lead to the blessings of freedom, rather than to the scourge of tyranny. They are the oifspring rather of a tender sensi- bility for our virtue and happiness, than of an unrelenting persecution against our errors and vices ; and the ultimate consequences to which they point, involve equally the protection of inno- cence and integrity, and the repression of audacity and crime. As such are the firm grounds upon which the principle of coercion rests, and as such are the objects to which it is directed, obedience becomes the indispensable duty of all, and the validity of the arguments must be admitted for both parts 298 LIBERTY. of a case where the reciprocity is so striking, that the one cannot be carried into effect without the other. Vain and delusive, therefore, must be the theories of those writers who could ever suppose the existence of what they call a state of nature '^, in which the fury of the vices raged without measure and without remorse ; in which the greater vigour of limbs, or greater firmness of courage, bore away the prize of beauty, and destroyed, or exclusively engrossed the works of art, and exercised uncontrolled dominion over the rights, the acquisitions, the sentiments, and the feelings of others. Some difficulties and imperfections, indeed, must always accompany the science of government; and where the com- plexness of the human character is so extraordi- nary, no depth of penetration, and no extended sphere of practice, can ever supply remedies for the innumerable cases which a variety of con- cerns, and a diversity of passions, must be per- petually creating. But this argument, though it should repress the arrogance which would expect absolute perfection, will by no means induce us to acquiesce in the theories of those who would plead the rights of our nature, to make us blind to her dictates, and rebellious against her com- mands, and who would place before us the "* Mr. Hobbes was among the singular assertors of this theory. His opinion is noticed and confuted by Dawson, in his book on the Origin of Laws, book ii. chap. ii. p. 34. LIBERTY. 299 plausibility of uncontrolled liberty, that they may the more readily deliver us up as the victims to slavery and misfortune. To speak with more accuracy and spirit, we may assert that man is then only in the true state of nature and liberty, when he lives in a manner consonant to their real laws; that by government he does not forfeit, but preserve them both in greater purity and force; and that, without this assistance, they could neither exist, nor be enjoyed with that moderation ^ which excludes, with equal firmness, despotism and Hcentiousness. The constituent parts of government itself, when properly under- stood, will be found to derive their origin and structure from the principles of human nature, which it is instituted to regulate and improve, and which can only display their benefit and dignity by such association and protection. To those, who are flattered by the imagination of romantic scenes, which never came under the evidence of our senses by their existence, or de- served our approbation by their superior ad- vantages, should we even grant that liberty is most perfect in the condition of savage life, they must at least acknowledge, that it is insecure ; and this overthrows the idea of that freedom, which * Libertatem, quam in me requiris, quam ego neque dimisi un- quam, neque dimittam, non in pertinacia, sed in quadam modera- tione positam putabo. See Cic. Orat. pro Cn. Plancio, sect. 39. 300 LIBERTY. consists in tlie permanent enjoyment of our property and rights. " Security is, indeed, the very essence of freedom ; and, if this is gained by poHtical estabhshment, there also is freedom to be found ;" and in resorting to it as a shelter from insult and from wrong, we surrender nothing, or rather in gaining security Ave acquire every thing, which, as beings of imperfect capacities, and innumerable frailties, we can reasonably ex- pect. In this light will the statement of this topic, by which are suspended conclusions of such mighty import to the welfare of society, and the main outlines which have been drawn of liberty, be found conformable to the principles of " right reason," upon whose suffrage, indeed, every sentiment must depend for its excellence and truth. Reason is the determined foe of all precipi- tation and derangement, whether in the physical, or the moral world, in the order of nature, or in the plans of policy. Delivered to us as the best gift, which Providence has bestowed, to adjust our distinctions between right and wrong, and improved in the sober school of education, to polish and enlarge our sentiments, she maintains with resolute empire the just balance between all extremes, which could svdly the splendour of her origin, or impair the beauty of her designs. No efforts of ingenuity can justify the suspension of her dictates, and no combination of circumstances LIBERTY. 301 can invalidate the authority of her laws. Without her all our opinions are an idle speculation, and all our practice, either an uncertain experiment, or a pernicious outrage. To her must every system make its first and last appeal, and every aggression must expect its just sentence, whether it be freedom, as it exists in the creed of modern revolutionists, or oppression, as legalized by the long usage of tyrants. The great ascendency of her power over every government and age, has been wonderfully illustrated by Cicero, whose correct observation taught him to represent law itself as indebted to her for its existence and perfection, and whose description it may be use- ful to produce, as he has adorned with the most animated eloquence, what he had discerned with the most philosophical precision. " Est quidem vera lex recta ratio^, naturae con- gruens, diffusa in omnes, constans, sempiterna, quae vocet ad officium jubendo, vetando a fraude deterreat ; quae tamen neque probos frustra jubet, aut vetat, nee improbos jubendo, aut vetando f This splendid passage is preserved by Lactantius from the lost books of Cicero de Eepublica. Cicero asserts the great power of reason over all affairs of law and government in various parts of his works. Lex est ratio summa, insita in natura, qure jubet ea, quee facienda sunt, prohibetque contraria. Eadem ratio cum est in hominis mente confirmata et confecta, lex est. See de Legibus' lib. i. sect. 6. Ergo et lex, quaj est recta ratio in jubendo et vetando. Ibidem, sect. 12. v. I. P, II. D d 302 LIBERTY. movet. Huic legi nee obrogari fas est, neque derogari ex hac aliquicl licet, neque tota abrogari potest. Nee vero aut per senatum, aut per po- pulum solvi hac lege possumus. Neque est quae- rendus explanator, aut interpres ejus alius: nee erit alia lex Romae, alia Atlienis, alia nunc, alia postliac, sed et omnes gentes, et omni tempore una lex, et sempiterna, et immortalis continebit ; unusque erit communis quasi magister, et im- perator omnium Deus ille, legis hujus inventor, disceptator, lator: cui qui non parebit, ipse se fugiet, ac naturam hominis aspernabitur, atque hoc ipso luet maximas poenas, etiamsi caetera supplicia, qu£e putantur, effugerit. Having introduced this unerring guide, we will proceed, under her direction, to examine liberty in some of its higher relations to ma- gistracy, and to the constitution of a state s, whose several forms have had the most material influence in producing its excellences or defects. In some situations we shall behold it sporting in the wildest excesses, and trampling upon the regulations to which, under wise provisions, it is destined to contribute both ornament and sup- s This division of the subject is sanctioned by the authorities of Montesquieu and Piiestly, who treat of liberty, both as it relates to the individual and the state. The latter writer discusses that part of the subject, which regards the individual, under the term of civil, and that which regards the state, under the term of poli- tical, liberty. LIBERTY. 303 port. In others we shall see it challencrincf the general admiration and gratitude of mankind, amidst those bright and cheering scenes of hap- piness, which accompany the union of energy with order. From this kind of discussion, the modifications which guard the extremes, Avill naturally flow, and the whole of the topic, both as it relates to the individual and the state, will be unfolded with greater clearness and extent, than can be obtained by any attempts at precise definition, or diffusive explanation. It is remarked by Montesquieu'', that the merits of liberty have been given to one mode of government, exclusive of others, according to the taste of him who has bestowed them; that the lovers of republics have given it to their mode of polity; and the lovers of monarchy to theirs. Thus have they decorated with the brilliant name of liberty that constitution, which has been ac- cidently familiarized to them by custom, or en- deared by advantage. But, according to a very ^ The following passage from the Prolusio Academica of the celebrated ]M. Heyne, entitled Libertas Populorum raro cum ex- pectato ab iis fructu recuperata, proves that he entertained nearly the same opinion as ^Montesquieu : Libertatis vox ac notio uti per omnia tempera ac populos pro diversis hominum studiis ac cupiditatibus rerumque diversissimls conditionibus infinita cum varietate constitui solita est, ita earn maxime pro formulaB ac legis, in quam populus convenit, natura et ratione diversam vim habere neqesse est. See Prolus. Academ. p. 145. 304 LIBERTY. common representation of this question, many would lead us to suppose, that the perfections of freedom are exclusively peculiar to a democracy ; where, through the exorbitant ascendency of the people, their power has received the false appel- lation of their liberty. By exposing to view the features of democracy, we shall show the evils of that freedom which has neither moderation nor limits ; and strike at the root of many dangerous errors, which have been propagated by those, who, seduced by the mere name of liberty, would impede its best enjoyments, and destroy its most important ends. Under every establishment of this nature, it is customary that the collective body of the people should be invested with the supreme authority, both in its executive and legislative capacities. The turbulence and irregularity which will spring from such an institution must be manifest to those, who consider that in every society discernment is the lot of few ; that where the ignorant have an equal proportion of right with the wise, they must prevail by numbers ; and that from hence all sense of the general advantage will be clouded by folly and overborne by frenzy. Among some, perhaps, it will be maintained, that there will be a peaceful and unanimous submission to the plans, devised by superior judgment, and recommended by superior worth. But the slightest reflection will teach us, that such plans must be too deep LIBERTY. 305 for the efforts of common penetration ; that igno- rance is prone to suspect what it cannot under- stand, and that power is eager to overthrow what it has not itself raised up. In numerous as- sembhes, where the presence of all is connected with a sense of duty, and their suffrage with a sense of right, demagogues and pretended patriots, by a more ready volubility of tongue, and a more obstinate perseverance in debate, will gain the applause which is due to greater purity of motive, and greater solidity of wisdom. The plausible measures which cunning has framed for the pur- poses of self-interest, and which the meretricious arts of eloquence recommend to unanimous ad- mission, can never be resisted, where partiality to a favourite orator will preclude examination, and where ignorance is not adequate to the task of exposing the fallacies by which they elude de- tection. From the imperfections of our nature, the specious suggestions of the moment will there obtain a preference over plans for which sober discussion and experience are the surest pledge ; and from the impulse of riotous impatience they will receive their final execution, before reason and integrity can interpose to prevent their fatal effects. In the debate of every question the pas- sions are appealed to, while the judgment is either duped or disregarded; and the scheme which proposes the temporary ease and pleasures of the 306 LIBERTY. day ' is more alluring than that which would ob- tain the security and prosperity of years. The grand foundations of human happiness can be laid only in the invariable operation of fixed principles. But the institution of which we are now speaking is, in its most characteristic parts, wavering and inconstant. A dexterous stroke of rhetoric, aided by the unruly clamour which ensures it applause, will level in one mo- ment the wisest laws, which the most auspicious union of ability and virtue ever framed, or pvd3lic exigency required. The philosopher, it is true, may retain with inflexible firmness what he has decided upon after profound meditation. But the generality of mankind must be too giddy and uninformed for those great and comprehensive arrangements, which are to blend without con- fusion, and embrace without partiality, the multi- farious concerns of a state. Their impatient thirst for novelty, too, renders them liable to be moved by every impulse which tends to inno- vation, which in its extreme indulgence is fatal to ' Witness the famous law at Athens, by which all the public revenues were diverted to the support of shows and spectacles, and of which it was death to move the repeal. See Demosthenes, Olynth. 1st and 2nd. See also JMontesquieu on the Principle of Democracy, Spirit of Laws, p. 30. vol. i. of Nugent's translation, and I\Ir. Hume's Essay on some remarkable customs, edition 1788 of his Essays, vol. i. p. 331. LIBERTY. 307 every species of government, whether it is legiti- mate, or usurped ; whether it sheds upon its subjects the mild and beneficent rays of freedom, or lowers with the dark suspicions and relentless frowns of tyranny. To the enumeration of these unfavourable circumstances must be added the delay and discord which will sometimes prevent the execution of the most mighty projects, when a foreign alliance, perhaps, is to be strengthened, or a foreign aggression to be repelled. The suc- cess of the greatest events will frequently turn upon quick and resolute decisions ; but these can rarely be hoped for where such a multiplicity of views, tempers, and interests, are to be at once consulted and obeyed. Could the Avants of mankind be supplied, and their rights and duties be accomplished by no other means than these we have just described, cheerless and gloomy would be all prospects of human happiness. As individuals, we must bid adieu to peace and virtue — as a kingdom, we must renounce all pretensions to union, fidelity, and glory. But this catalogue of evils, discouraging as it is to the friends of humanity, and painful to the enlightened advocates for freedom, will be far surpassed in deformity and iniquity by the re- capitulation of horrors, which have sprung from the lawless ambition of men, whom this anomaly of government could alone have elevated, and 308 LIBERTY. supported. In every division and struggle of party, there must be leaders, whose instruments in the pursuit of uncontrolled domination must be the multitude, whom they have propitiated by their flattery, or inflamed by their declamations. Whatever may be the issue of contention to the chiefs, who, while they pretend that they are en- countering obstacles and enmity for the people, are aiming only at self-exaltation, the baleful mis- fortunes of sedition and anarchy press with irre- sistible fury against all. In this deranged and disgraceful state of a community, the feelings of human nature itself undergo a sudden and melancholy perversion. The received authenticity of names imposed for the signification of things is changed into arbi- trary signs, in circumstances where iniquity and misrepresentation prevail over innocence and truth. Impudent audacity in aggression is ac- counted the noble fortitude of undistinguishing integrity. Provident deliberation and modesty are deemed only the insidious veils which disguise the heart of the coward, and prudence the scheme which involves the compromise of the traitor. Every tendency towards moderation is considered as the prelude to apostacy ; and undisguised fe- rocity is the only mean by which any one can rise into power, or seize confidence. Every petty society is formed, not for the honourable purposes of mutual protection and advantage, but for the LIBERTY. 309 success of rapacity and oppression. Confidence is shared only by the participation of guilt ; and reconcilement, if it grows at all, is not the hearty testimony of reciprocal forgiveness, but the com- pulsory provision against reciprocal violence. The personal security'' of all is pvit to the most perilous hazard ; and especially of those, who, by the splendour of learned attainments, and the rich endowments of fortune, must be first to pro- voke the tumultuous effervescence of popular resentment, and the rude temerity of popular pillage'. From the characters of those, who, in this hideous complication of absurdity and vice, bear the sway, there is every thing to aggravate ge- neral calamity, because they cannot bear with ■' Cicero, in the following striking terms of abhorrence, deprecates the interposition of force in the concerns of government : Deinceps sunt cum populo actiones : in quibus primum et maximum vis ABESTO. Nihil est enim exitiosus civitatibus, nihil tam contra- rium juri et legibus, nihil minus civile et humanum, quam, compo- sita et constituta republica, quidquam agi per vim. Parere jubet intercessori quo nihil pra^stantius ; impediri enim bonam rem melius, quam concedi malae. See de Legibus, bookiii. sect. 18. ' After speaking of the exorbitant power which was exercised by the tribunes of the people, Cicero thus contrasts the more savage and dangerous use which is made of power by the people : Nimia potestas est tribunorum plebis : quis negat 1 Sed vis populi multo seevior multoque vehementior, quaj ducem quod habet interdum le- nior est, quam si nullum haberet. Dux enim suo periculo progredi cogitat : populi impetus periculi rationem sui non habet. See de Legibus, book iii, sect. 10. 310 LIBERTY. meekness, or use with wisdom, the superiority to which they have been so suddenly raised ; be- cause they destroy prejudice to substitute bruta- lity ; and because, with unwearied vigilance and rancour, they consign to the exterminating scourge of suspicion and cruelty all that ability and virtue has rendered illustrious and venerable amongst mankind. Farewell the patient toils of science, and the labour of the midnight oil. Fare- well the elegant decorums, and the soft charities of civilized life, without which government would be an useless contrivance, and man a being at once wretched and contemptible. All are des- tined to perish in the common wreck of laws, morals, and arts, or to be revived and moulded according to the new philosophy and discoveries of those, who have substituted a despotism of greater rigour than that which they overthrew. — But this is got by casting pearl to hogs ; That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood. And still revolt when truth would set them free. License they mean when they cry Liberty. For who loves that must first be wise and good ; But from that mark how far they rove we see. For all this waste of wealth and loss of blood. RIlLTON. Thus it has appeared that liberty, when hur- ried into licentiousness by institutions, which have wanted skill or honesty in their original frame, is an unwieldy monster tossed on the sea of passion without guidance, and without restraint ; LIBERTY. 311 and thus can no picture of barbarism be devised, that will surpass the abject degradation and misery, which will be the lot of those, who are its advocates from frenzy, or its dupes from credulity. By casting back our attention to the govern- ments of antiquity, which encouraged the too great ascendency of popular power ; and by tracing the causes which gave such frequent in- terruptions to their stability, and which at last plunged them into adversity and decay, we shall find the amplest confirmation of this unwelcome truth. The censorious but just sentence of con- demnation, which Cicero passed against the Gre- cian republics, and against the once celebrated and flourishing Athens, must be placed among the truest and most apposite illustrations of the subject which history can afford us. " Graeco- rum autem totae respublicae," says he, " sedentis concionis temeritate administrantur. Itaque ut banc Graeciam, quse jamdiu suis consiliis perculsa et afilicta est, omittam : ilia vetus quae quondam opibus, imperio, gloria floruit, hoc uno malo con- cidit libertate immoderata ac licentia concionum. Cum in theatro imperiti homines, rerum omnium rudes ignarique, consederant: tum bella inutilia suscipiebant, tum seditiosos homines reipublicae praeficiebant, tum optime meritos cives e civitate ejiciebant", ■" See Cicero's Oration pro Flacco, sect. 7. 312 LIBERTY. The pride of the historian has for the most part been ostentatiously displayed in bringing to our view the most flattering and imposing aspect of events, which the narrative of this renowned people can supply ; and, from that natural love of excellence which we all feel, whenever it is placed before us, mo indulge ourselves in the most pleasing illusions of undistinguishing ad- miration and implicit belief. We are impressed, and justly impressed, by the heroism, which was displayed on the plains of Marathon, and in the bay of Salamis. We are dazzled by the pomp of Athenian spectacles, by the taste and mag- nificence of their public monuments, and by that crowd of poets, statesmen, and philosophers, whose genius and virtues have cast such a blaze of glories upon the Athenian name. But, if we would inspect the interior administration of the republic, the convulsive struggles of party, the mischievous intrigues of factious association, and the immoderate and unbridled freedom of all ranks, will present images of confusion, humi- liating enough to stop the career of our fondest raptures, and to cool the effusions of our warmest praise. To the incurable defects of Athenian polity, and the inordinate liberty of the people, it could alone be attributed, that the most illus- trious citizens were persecuted and banished, were condemned precipitately, and disgraced un- justly. These were the baleful causes which LIBERTY. 313 brought on the ignominious fate of those dis- interested and intrepid heroes, who distinguished themseh'es in the most awful seasons of public calamity that ever called forth the discernment and enterprise of man, and who were, at suc- cessive periods, the shining instruments in the hand of Providence for the deliverance of their country. From these arose that public ingrati- tude, which afflicted the closing life of Miltiades by the pains of imprisonment, which sped the flight of Themistocles to the court of Persia, and administered the deadly draught to the lips of the mild, but undaunted Phocion. But such is ever the variable and inflammable temper of popular opinion, and such will be the flagitious injustice of nations to individuals, when the faulty constitution of a government gives it the oppor- tunity of putting forth its capricious and mighty strength. The work of Aristotle, called his Politics, in those places particularly where he has analyzed the component parts of Grecian polity, and ap- preciated with unequalled accuracy its merits and its faults, gives us the most extensive and satis- factory illustration of this subject which ancient writings can supply. His penetrating eye could pierce into every obliquity and corruption of government, both in its constituent qualities and practical administration. He saw not the liberties of mankind through the polluted medium of de- V. I. p. II. E e 314 LIBERTY. basing equality, nor would he recognise them in the ruinous experiment of unlimited freedom. He would neither adopt nor defend this contemptible offspring of a spurious philosophy, which would involve the encouragement and justification of vulgar rapacity and tyranny, which would render the well-gotten and well-regulated fruits of labour and prudence tributary to the lazy and dissipated, and which would cast the great and multiplied concerns of a nation upon the perilous issue, of being lost by incapacity, or deranged by tumvdt. If, from the examination of the peculiarities which distinguished the republics of Greece, we transfer our attention to some prominent features which marked the history of Rome, and which might be said to take their rise or colour from the liberties of her people, we shall sometimes be obliged to exert the impartial voice of censure against the constitution, which did not sufficiently guard against their excess ". If, animated by the love of freedom, we kindle into enthusiasm at the intrepidity of a Brutus, who rescued his country from the dominion of the Tarquins — if, impressed by the dignity of virtue, we extol the vindication of her injured rights in that signal act of valour, " This assertion is warranted by the great authority of Cicero himself, who, in his first letter to his brother Quintus, writes in the following terms, when he mentions Rome : I'bi tanta arro- gantia est, tarn immoderata libertas, tam infinita hominum licentia, etc. See sect. 7. LIBERTY. 315 by which the indignation of a father (Virginius) triumphed over the brutahty and tyranny of a judge (Appius) — yet we must shrink with dis- approbation from the occasional luxuriancy of the liberties, which they were instrumental in creatine. We are shocked at the licentiousness of the Campus Martius during the boisterous proceedings of public elections ; at that venal corruption, which, by the distribution of corn and money, bribed away the rights which the best blood and wisdom had once attained ; and at those unquiet agitations of popular feeling, which the views of factious tribunes, sanctioned by the specious name of Liberty °, had inflamed into open and riotous rebellion. We remember, and remembering we cannot but condemn, the infatuation which actuated the Gracchi in the proposal of their agrarian law^, the plausible reasoning which perverted freedom lent to its support, and the storms of tumult, which con- " Romani tandem gens ilia libertatis amore nobilissima, primo quantopere, sibi hoc libertatis vocabulo illudi passi sunt ! turn hoc ipsum nominis ludibrium quot calamitatibus, caedibus, sedi- tionibus ac bellis propugnarunt. See Heyne's Prolusiones Aca- dem. p. 157. p Cicero thus exposes the real tendency of the agrarian law : Sic confirmo, Quirites, hac lege agraria, pulchra atque popular!, dari vobis nihil, condonari certis hominibus omnia: ostentari po- pulo Romano agros, eripi etiam libertatem : privatorum pecunias augeri, publicas exhauriri. See Orat. second de Leg. Agrar. contra RuUum, sect. 10. 316 LIBERTY. vulsecl the state, when the question was debated by its deluded advocates. The zeal, the elo- quence, and the contention of man, were scarcely ever engaged in an undertaking at once so dangerous and so unexampled. Their exertions, and their fate, though they marked the heroism of their characters, did not confirm the purity of their intentions ; and they have left the greater part of posterity to believe, that, in the invention of such a plan, they were influenced more by the restless demon of sedition, than by the calm and holy genius of virtue. Such are the unfortunate extravagances and injuries which, in the contemplation of various nations and events, the occasional abuse of a blessing will sometimes present to our indignant view. That liberty, however, possesses the noblest capacities, and leads us to the noblest exertions, when duly regulated by the principles of a wise constitution, and temperately enjoyed by those who are its subjects, can never be denied, while the page of history shall continue open to our perusal, and while our appeal to per- sonal and daily experience shall be impartial and uncorrupted. The moral and political arguments which defend it are so strong as to baffle the subtilest cavil, and so numerous as to be hardly taken in at a view by the most comprehensive understanding. The magnificent eras of glory and happiness which it has produced, are suffi- LIBERTY. 317 ciently striking to gratify the most ardent sympa- thies for general good, which our benevolence ever indulged, or our invention conceived. To enumerate them wovdd tire the most patient in- dustry, and to decorate them with adequate applause, would surpass the resources of the most fruitful ingenuity, and the flights of the most aspiring eloquence. To bestow, however, some tribute of panegyric upon this perfection of civil society, and to notice a few of its best characteristics, is a pleasure which cannot be wholly renounced by those whose country and government have given them oppor- tunities of beholding its fairest excellences and most distinguished fruits. Every member of a free state, knowing that whatever property he has acquired can be en- joyed without molestation, and disposed of with- out control; and feeling that, of all his under- takings, he is solely the governing and responsible agent, possesses a dignity and loftiness of soul, a spur to emulation and industry, from which the miserable drudges of arbitrary power are totally excluded ; for the fear of tyrannical exaction there chills every effort, and there the numerous examples of poverty, ignorance, and servility, shed their baneful influence to obstruct every prospect of improvement, both in the moral and intellectual faculties of man. In conformity to this remark, those who have been born to the E eS 318 LIBERTY. auspicious inheritance of freedom, and whose education has been unfettered by those wretched dogmas which bigotry and despotism oppose to our advancement in pohtical truths, have ever been the most memorable for the prosperous opulence, which is the comfort and ornament of private life, and for those brilliant operations of legislative sagacity and patriotic zeal, which are the most illustrious distinctions of those who move in the higher circles of society. Among them the rapid progress of the arts and sciences, of all that is formed to civilize and adorn the condition of man, point out, with the most em- phatical precision, the animating principle which gave them their beginning and perfection, and which will ensure their continuance for every great and splendid purpose of national utility and renown. Yes, liberty is the richest soil upon which genius can cast its seeds ; and then only can it reap its merited honours and rewards when its efforts can be directed at will, unimpaired by the dictates of an intollerant superstition, and unawed by the presumption of an imperious con- trol. In whatever points we can calculate the efficacy of freedom upon those objects which it can influence, in no one will it be found to lend such a vigorous assistance towards the public welfare, as when it has been the guide of those schemes which are the offspring of our invention and attainments. By judging of it in relation to LIBERTY. 319 the concerns of commercial speculation, we shall meet with proofs of a nature so decisive, that our conviction will be the infallible consequence of our examination. And here it is unnecessary to observe before those, who consider the general arrangement of society, that almost all the ad- vantages which exalted stations and ample pos- sessions can confer, are derived from the result of commercial undertakings; "that to the plough and the anvil, the loom and the quarry, pride is indebted for its magnificence, and elegance for its dainties." But whence could have arisen those multiplied and pleasing sources of our enjoyment, those finished models of art which form the splendid decorations of pleasure, and those stu- pendous contrivances of mechanism, which in the works of manufactories ease the toil of the labo- rious, and increase the acquisitions of the wealthy, unless liberty imparted the encouragement and sweetened the reward. In every connection, indeed, which it can possibly maintain with the plans of projecting wisdom, or the ardour of experimental pursuit, it will be found the most effectual incitement to suggest their origin, and establish their success. Boundless therefore is the variety, and delight- ful the issue of advantages, with which it will always crown the exercise of human powers in all ages and kingdoms, where its true properties are distinctly recognised and purely preserved. But 320 LIBERTY. upon truths so cordially admitted, and so sensibly felt, it is, perhaps, useless to employ any farther the language of explanation or praise. To those who wish for what is at once the best illustration and panegyric of the benefits which liberty can confer, we may recommend with confidence the exam})le of them, as they are widely diffused and substantially enjoyed under the British consti- tution. Here no substitution of a false idol for what justly deserves our devotion, leads to those fatal extremes, from which political expediency and moral taste revolt with equal disgust. Here with sincerity and reverence we embrace the genuine object of worship, unspotted, as it is, by the de- lusive theories and flagitious enormities, which democratical sophistry and democratical acrimony may contrive to seduce the credulous into appro- bation, or exasperate the turbulent into sedition. Here neither in the produce of our inventive faculties, or our laborious exertions, are we duped and aggrieved by that false chicanery and despotic sway of government, which shall arbitrarily pre- scribe the direction and application of the one, or exact, for any unwarrantable purposes, the fruits of the other. The freedom of our opinions is not stifled by the vigilance of sanguinary inquisitors. The freedom of our persons is neither cramped nor outraged by the violence of military tyranny. Every citizen, whether by professional celebrity LIBERTY. 321 he meditates the intellectual and religious im- provement of his species, as a lawyer, an artist, or a divine ; or whether, in the walk of private life, he yields to the more alluring temptations of ease and pleasure, pursues his innocent course without restriction, not bound to any irksome task, not responsible to any unjust authority, not hampered by any tedious forms ; but left to pursue the business of the moment in the way that his humour or his interest suggests. Such are the effects of real liberty, which may be safely defined to consist " in the operation of just government, in the exemption from injury and unlawful restraint (for it actually implies every just restraint)," in protecting all in the un- disturbed enjoyment of their rights, and in secur- ing the fairly acquired conditions of men, however unequal. The British constitution, too proud to bow before the fleeting dogmas of the hour, too firm to admit the arrogant claims of hasty inno- vation, and too mighty to be shaken by the out- cries of the factious and the menaces of the un- ruly, acknowledges the justice, and even heightens the efficacy of those distinctions, "which industry and enterprise give in the different attainments of men," and which lead in their progress to all the varieties of professional occupation and pecuniary acquisition. In such inequalities we discern the first link of subordination, so necessary to the peace and preservation of society, and from which 322 LIBERTY. alone could result the incentive to labour, and the practice of ingenious and lucrative arts. De- riding, therefore, as a visionary chimera, and re- sisting as an injurious transgression, that equality of station and fortune, which the indolent and worthless have too interested a view in setting up, we justly denominate all governments to be free in proportion as they prevent the infringe- ment upon those emoluments which our merits have obtained — in proportion as they are suf- ficiently powerful to exercise authority, and suf- ficiently limited to preclude the abuse of it. It is for these characteristic properties and ex- cellences, that we hold in such reverence and affection the British constitution; the judicious and consistent mixture of whose parts is incon- testibly proved by the vigour and impartiality of its functions. Under this matchless system of polity, superior far to what history has recorded, or the happiest invention of the speculatist ever framed, of which the penetration of the wisest statesmen has been exercised to complete the symmetry, and the activity of the purest patriots to renovate the decays, general liberty implies general justice — justice, that great public virtue, by which the right, and the only practicable equality is diffused through the whole community, by which riches are restrained from domination, and lowliness screened from oppression. When we survey this noble fabric of power. LIBERTY. 323 erected as the firmest security for political in- tegrity in those who are to command, and for safety to those who are to obey, and when we re- flect upon the plotting machinations, which would aim against it the stroke of destruction, we are tempted to apply the language, which, in the spirit of prophetic foresight, and the anxiety of paternal care, was once addressed by Cicero to his deluded covnitrymen: " Etenim illis honores, potestates, divitise, ex tumultu, atque dissentio- nibus civium comparari solent : Vos, quorum gratia in sufFragiis consistit, libertas in legibus honos in judiciis, et aeqviitate magistratus, et res familiares in pace, omni ratione otium tenere debetis*!." If, from the contemplation of the advantages which distinguish this nation, we pause a little to examine the character of the circumstances which produced them at first, and renewed or confirmed them occasionally, we shall find that character to be such as will furnish what, as the advocates for freedom, we may rank among the proudest tri- umphs of its cause. These splendid achievements involve claims to general admiration, independent of those which the national prejudices and na- tional gratitude of Englishmen will urge for trans- actions, which their own forefathers successfully 1 See Cicero's second oration de Leg. Agrar. contra Rullum, sect. 38. S24 LIBERTY. accomplished, and the fruits of which their own country has permanently enjoyed. They may be appealed to with confidence as guides and prece- dents for the future conduct of every state, where the discussion of liberty is temperately under- taken, and where the merits of legitimate govern- ment are correctly appreciated by what promotes order in the arrangement, and justice in the exe- cution of it. In the wide range of consequences to which they have led, subservient equally to the purposes of individual welfare and public glory, we collect a series of facts, which will give light to the un- derstanding and consolation to the feelings of every one, who inquires into the true evidences and limits of human liberty, and who distinguishes with accuracy between the firmness which would at all times plead its existence'' as a means of right and happiness, and the extravagance which would imbitter or endanger its enjoyment by in- jury and licentiousness. But, above all the effects of discernment and patriotism in those, who have bequeathed to us such precious inheritances, we are bound to place in the first rank of praise that perfect system of •■ In representing the right which all have to the possession of liberty, Cicero states the wise and just provisions under which it is bestowed : Plebi re non verbo danda libertas : quae tamen sic data est ut multis pra;clarissimis addiceretur, ut auctoritati principum cederet. See de Legibus, book iii. sect. 10. LIBERTY. 325 law, which they have framed for their preserva- tion, and which, for its free and hberal spirit, its extensive compass, and exquisite structure, may defy comparison with the best institutions of ancient or modern times. In whatever capacity we may view its operations, it will verify the pa- negyric of a most celebrated foreigner % whose cast of thought was tinged by freedom in its brightest hues, and who confessed in the bosom of his native country, that the liberty of England was established by its law. While this expression of the sovereign will shall continue pure in its source, and irresistible in its energies : while it shall excite reverence in the virtuous, and command submission from the guilty; no forebodings of anxious fear, no senti- ments of painful distrust, can shake our confi- dence in the permanency of what we justly deem the keystone of civil and political prosperity. To the vigilant foresight, therefore, and gracious protection of law be consigned, without reserve, the guardianship of liberty, with all its various relations, and all its dearest interests ; and we rejoice that so sacred a cause is committed to a guide, of whom we can say, in the eloquent eulogy of Hooker, " Her seat is the bosom of God, her » Montesquieu. See the close of his chapter on the constitu- tion of England, Spirit of Laws, Nugent's translation, vol. i. p. 237. v. I, P. II. F f 326 LIBERTY. voice the harmony of the workl. All things in heaven and earth do lier homage ; the very least as feeUng her care, and the greatest as not ex- empted from her power." JOHN BARTLAM, Merton College. 1794. END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. TALBOYS AND BROWNE, PRINTEBS, OXFORD. UNIVERSITY' OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-25»i-7,'63(D86188Sj444 PR 1362 (398 1836 V.2 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 299 581 9 k