Essay 12. OF CIVIL LIBERTY
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 1/14 mp. 87 gp. 156
ESSAY XII: OF CIVIL LIBERTY†a
Those who employ their pens on political subjects, free from party-rage, and
party-prejudices, cultivate a science, which, of all others, contributes most to
public utility, and even to the private satisfaction of those who addict
themselves to the study of it. I am apt, however, to entertain a suspicion, that
the world is still too young to fix many general truths in politics, which will
remain true to the latest posterity. We have not as yet had experience of three
thousand years; so that not only the art of reasoning is still imperfect in this
science, as in all others, but we even want sufficient materials upon which we
can reason. It is not fully known, what degree of refinement, either in virtue
or vice, human nature is susceptible of; nor what may be expected of mankind
from any great revolution in their education, customs, or principles. MACHIAVEL
was certainly a great genius; but having confined his study to the furious and
tyrannical governments of ancient times, or to the little disorderly
principalities of ITALY, his reasonings especially upon monarchical government,
have been found extremely defective; and there scarcely is any maxim in his
prince, which subsequent experience has not entirely refuted. A weak prince,
says he, is incapable of receiving good counsel; for if he consult with several,
he will not be able to choose among their different counsels. If he abandon
himself to one, that minister may, perhaps, have capacity, but he will not long
be a minister: He will be sure to dispossess his master, and place himself and
his family upon the throne. I mention this, among many instances of the errors
of that politician, proceeding, in a great measure, from his having lived in too
early an age of the world, to be a good judge of political truth. Almost all the
princes of EUROPE are at present governed by their ministers; and have been so
for near two centuries; and yet no such event has ever happened, or can possibly
happen. SEJANUS might project dethroning the CAESARS; but FLEURY, though ever so
vicious, could not, while in his senses, entertain the least hopes of
dispossessing the BOURBONS.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 2/14 mp. 88 gp. 157
Trade was never esteemed an affair of state till the last century; and there
scarcely is any ancient writer on politics, who has made mention of it.†1 Even
the ITALIANS have kept a profound silence with regard to it, though it has now
engaged the chief attention, as well of ministers of state, as of speculative
reasoners. The great opulence, grandeur, and military atchievements of the two
maritime powers seem first to have instructed mankind in the importance of an
extensive commerce.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 3/14 mp. 89 gp. 157
Having, therefore, intended in this essay to make a full comparison of civil
liberty and absolute government, and to show†c the great advantages of the
former above the latter; I began to entertain a suspicion, that no man in this
age was sufficiently qualified for such an undertaking; and that whatever any
one should advance on that head would, in all probability, be refuted by further
experience, and be rejected by posterity. Such mighty revolutions have happened
in human affairs, and so many events have arisen contrary to the expectation of
the ancients, that they are sufficient to beget the suspicion of still further
changes.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 4/14 mp. 89 gp. 157
It had been observed by the ancients, that all the arts and sciences arose among
free nations; and, that the PERSIANS and EGYPTIANS, notwithstanding their ease,
opulence, and luxury, made but faint efforts towards a relish in those finer
pleasures, which were carried to such perfection by the GREEKS, amidst continual
wars, attended with poverty, and the greatest simplicity of life and manners. It
had also been observed, that, when the GREEKS lost their liberty, though they
increased mightily in riches, by means of the conquests of ALEXANDER; yet the
arts, from that moment, declined among them, and have never since been able to
raise their head in that climate. Learning was transplanted to ROME, the only
free nation at that time in the universe; and having met with so favourable a
soil, it made prodigious shoots for above a century; till the decay of liberty
produced also the decay of letters, and spread a total barbarism over the world.
From these two experiments, of which each was double in its kind, and shewed the
fall of learning in absolute governments, as well as its rise in popular ones,
LONGINUS thought himself sufficiently justified, in asserting, that the arts and
sciences could never flourish, but in a free government: And in this opinion, he
has been followed by several eminent writers†2 in our own country, who either
confined their view merely to ancient facts, or entertained too great a
partiality in favour of that form of government, established amongst us.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 5/14 mp. 90 gp. 158
But what would these writers have said, to the instances of modern ROME and of
FLORENCE? Of which the former carried to perfection all the finer arts of
sculpture, painting, and music, as well as poetry, though it groaned under
tyranny, and under the tyranny of priests: While the latter made its chief
progress in the arts and sciences, after it began to lose its liberty by the
usurpation of the family of MEDICI. ARIOSTO, TASSO, GALILEO, more than RAPHAEL,
and MICHAEL ANGELO, were not born in republics. And though the LOMBARD school
was famous as well as the ROMAN, yet the VENETIANS have had the smallest share
in its honours, and seem rather inferior to the other ITALIANS, in their genius
for the arts and sciences. RUBENS established his school at ANTWERP, not at
AMSTERDAM: DRESDEN, not HAMBURGH, is the centre of politeness in GERMANY.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 6/14 mp. 90 gp. 158
But the most eminent instance of the flourishing of learning in absolute
governments, is that of FRANCE, which scarcely ever enjoyed any established
liberty, and yet has carried the arts and sciences as near perfection as any
other nation. The ENGLISH are, perhaps, greater philosophers;†d the ITALIANS
better painters and musicians; the ROMANS were greater orators: But the FRENCH
are the only people, except the GREEKS, who have been at once philosophers,
poets, orators, historians, painters, architects, sculptors, and musicians. With
regard to the stage, they have excelled even the GREEKS,†e who far excelled the
ENGLISH. And, in common life, they have, in a great measure, perfected that art,
the most useful and agreeable of any, l'Art de Vivre, the art of society and
conversation.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 7/14 mp. 91 gp. 159
If we consider the state of the sciences and polite arts in our own country,
HORACE'S observation, with regard to the ROMANS, may, in a great measure, be
applied to the BRITISH.
--Sed in longum tamen aevum
Manserunt, hodieque manent vestigia ruris.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 8/14 mp. 91 gp. 159
The elegance and propriety of style have been very much neglected among us. We
have no dictionary of our language, and scarcely a tolerable grammar. The first
polite prose we have, was writ by a man who is still alive.†3 As to SPRAT, LOCKE
and, even TEMPLE, they knew too little of the rules of art to be esteemed
elegant writers. The prose of BACON, HARRINGTON, and MILTON, is altogether stiff
and pedantic; though their sense be excellent. Men, in this country, have been
so much occupied in the great disputes of Religion, Politics, and Philosophy,
that they had no relish for the seemingly minute observations of grammar and
criticism. And though this turn of thinking must have considerably improved our
sense and our talent of reasoning; it must be confessed, that, even in those
sciences above-mentioned, we have not any standard-book, which we can transmit
to posterity: And the utmost we have to boast of, are a few essays towards a
more just philosophy; which, indeed, promise well, but have not, as yet, reached
any degree of perfection.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 9/14 mp. 92 gp. 159
It has become an established opinion, that commerce can never flourish but in a
free government; and this opinion seems to be founded on a longer and larger
experience than the foregoing, with regard to the arts and sciences. If we trace
commerce in its progress through TYRE, ATHENS, SYRACUSE, CARTHAGE, VENICE,
FLORENCE, GENOA, ANTWERP, HOLLAND, ENGLAND, &c. we shall always find it to have
fixed its seat in free governments. The three greatest trading towns now in
Europe, are LONDON, AMSTERDAM, and HAMBURGH; all free cities, and protestant
cities; that is, enjoying a double liberty. It must, however, be observed, that
the great jealousy entertained of late, with regard to the commerce of FRANCE,
seems to prove, that this maxim is no more certain and infallible than the
foregoing, and that the subjects of an absolute prince may become our rivals in
commerce, as well as in learning.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 10/14 mp. 92 gp. 160
Durst I deliver my opinion in an affair of so much uncertainty, I would assert,
that, notwithstanding the efforts of the FRENCH, there is something hurtful to
commerce inherent in the very nature of absolute government, and inseparable
from it: Though the reason I should assign for this opinion, is somewhat
different from that which is commonly insisted on. Private property seems to me
almost as secure in a civilized EUROPEAN monarchy, as in a republic; nor is
danger much apprehended in such a government, from the violence of the
sovereign; more than we commonly dread harm from thunder, or earthquakes, or any
accident the most unusual and extraordinary. Avarice, the spur of industry, is
so obstinate a passion, and works its way through so many real dangers and
difficulties, that it is not likely to be scared by an imaginary danger, which
is so small, that it scarcely admits of calculation. Commerce, therefore, in my
opinion, is apt to decay in absolute governments, not because it is there less
secure, but because it is less honourable. A subordination of ranks is
absolutely necessary to the support of monarchy. Birth, titles, and place, must
be honoured above industry and riches. And while these notions prevail, all the
considerable traders will be tempted to throw up their commerce, in order to
purchase some of those employments, to which privileges and honours are annexed.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 11/14 mp. 93 gp. 160
Since I am upon this head, of the alterations which time has produced, or may
produce in politics, I must observe, that all kinds of government, free and
absolute, seem to have undergone, in modern times, a great change for the
better, with regard both to foreign and domestic management. The balance of
power is a secret in politics, fully known only to the present age; and I must
add, that the internal POLICE of states has also received great improvements
within the last century. We are informed by SALLUST, that CATILINE'S army was
much augmented by the accession of the highwaymen about ROME; though I believe,
that all of that profession, who are at present dispersed over EUROPE, would not
amount to a regiment. In CICERO'S pleadings for MILO, I find this argument,
among others, made use of to prove, that his client had not assassinated
CLODIUS. Had MILO, said he, intended to have killed CLODIUS, he had not attacked
him in the daytime, and at such a distance from the city: He had way-laid him at
night, near the suburbs, where it might have been pretended, that he was killed
by robbers; and the frequency of the accident would have favoured the deceit.
This is a surprizing proof of the loose police of ROME, and of the number and
force of these robbers; since CLODIUS†4 was at that time attended by thirty
slaves, who were compleatly armed, and sufficiently accustomed to blood and
danger in the frequent tumults excited by that seditious tribune.†f
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 12/14 mp. 94 gp. 161
But though all kinds of government be improved in modern times, yet monarchical
government seems to have made the greatest advances towards perfection. It may
now be affirmed of civilized monarchies, what was formerly said in praise of
republics alone, that they are a government of Laws, not of Men. They are found
susceptible of order, method, and constancy, to a surprizing degree. Property is
there secure; industry encouraged; the arts flourish; and the prince lives
secure among his subjects, like a father among his children.†g There are
perhaps, and have been for two centuries, near two hundred absolute princes,
great and small, in EUROPE; and allowing twenty years to each reign, we may
suppose, that there have been in the whole two thousand monarchs or tyrants, as
the GREEKS would have called them: Yet of these there has not been one, not even
PHILIP II. of SPAIN, so bad as TIBERIUS, CALIGULA, NERO, or DOMITIAN, who were
four in twelve amongst the ROMAN emperors. It must, however, be confessed, that,
though monarchical governments have approached nearer to popular ones, in
gentleness and stability; they are still inferior. Our modern education and
customs instil more humanity and moderation than the ancient; but have not as
yet been able to overcome entirely the disadvantages of that form of government.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 13/14 mp. 94 gp. 162
But here I must beg leave to advance a conjecture, which seems probable, but
which posterity alone can fully judge of. I am apt to think, that, in
monarchical governments there is a source of improvement, and in popular
governments a source of degeneracy, which in time will bring these species of
civil polity still nearer an equality. The greatest abuses, which arise in
FRANCE, the most perfect model of pure monarchy, proceed not from the number or
weight of the taxes, beyond what are to be met with in free countries; but from
the expensive, unequal, arbitrary, and intricate method of levying them, by
which the industry of the poor, especially of the peasants and farmers, is, in a
great measure, discouraged, and agriculture rendered a beggarly and slavish
employment. But to whose advantage do these abuses tend? If to that of the
nobility, they might be esteemed inherent in that form of government; since the
nobility are the true supports of monarchy; and it is natural their interest
should be more consulted, in such a constitution, than that of the people. But
the nobility are, in reality, the chief losers by this oppression; since it
ruins their estates, and beggars their tenants. The only gainers by it are the
Financiers,†h a race of men rather odious to the nobility and the whole kingdom.
If a prince or minister, therefore, should arise, endowed with sufficient
discernment to know his own and the public interest, and with sufficient force
of mind to break through ancient customs, we might expect to see these abuses
remedied; in which case, the difference between that absolute government and our
free one, would not appear so considerable as at present.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Para. 14/14 mp. 95 gp. 162
The source of degeneracy, which may be remarked in free governments, consists in
the practice of contracting debt, and mortgaging the public revenues, by which
taxes may, in time, become altogether intolerable, and all the property of the
state be brought into the hands of the public. This practice is of modern date.
The ATHENIANS,†i though governed by a republic, paid near two hundred per Cent.
for those sums of money, which any emergence made it necessary for them to
borrow; as we learn from XENOPHON.†5 Among the moderns, the DUTCH first
introduced the practice of borrowing great sums at low interest, and have well
nigh ruined themselves by it. Absolute princes have also contracted debt; but as
an absolute prince may make a bankruptcy when he pleases, his people can never
be oppressed by his debts. In popular governments, the people, and chiefly those
who have the highest offices, being commonly the public creditors, it is
difficult for the state to make use of this remedy, which, however it may
sometimes be necessary, is always cruel and barbarous. This, therefore seems to
be an inconvenience, which nearly threatens all free governments; especially our
own, at the present juncture of affairs. And what a strong motive is this, to
encrease our frugality of public money; lest for want of it, we be reduced, by
the multiplicity of taxes, or what is worse, by our public impotence and
inability for defence, to curse our very liberty, and wish ourselves in the same
state of servitude with all the nations that surround us?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Foot. 1 mp. 88 gp. 157
†1 XENOPHON mentions it; but with a doubt if it be of any advantage to a state.
{Ei de kai emporia ophelei ti polin}, &c. XEN. HIERO. 9.9. PLATO totally
excludes it from his imaginary republic De legibus, lib. iv.†b
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Foot. 2 mp. 90 gp. 158
†2 Mr. ADDISON and LORD SHAFTESBURY.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Foot. 3 mp. 91 gp. 159
†3 Dr. SWIFT.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Foot. 4 mp. 94 gp. 161
†4 Vide Asc. Ped. in Orat. pro Milone.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Foot. 5 mp. 95 gp. 163
†5 {Ktesin de ap' oudenos an outo kalen ktesainto, osper aph' ou an protelesosin
eis ten aphormen--oi de ge pleistoi Athenaion pleiona lepsontai kat' eniauton e
osa an eisenegkosin oi gar mnan protelesantes, eggys duoin mnain prosodon
hexousi--o dokei ton anthropinon asphlestaton te kai polychroniotaton einai.
XEN. POROI}. III. 9. 10.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. a mp. 620 gp. 156
†a Editions A to K have the title: Of Liberty and Despotism.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. b mp. 620 gp. 157
†b This note was added in Ed. K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. c mp. 620 gp. 157
†c Editions A to D read: the Advantages and Disadvantages of each.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. d mp. 620 gp. 159
†d N.B. This was published in 1742. So Edition P.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. e mp. 620 gp. 159
†e Who . . . English; added in Edition K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. f mp. 620 gp. 161
†f Edition A added: and, by the Roman Laws, answerable, upon their own Lives,
for the Life of their Master.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. g mp. 620 gp. 161
†g This sentence was added in Edition K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. h mp. 620 gp. 162
†h The cedilla is not found in B, or in some Editions of the Political
Discourses, where the word occurs.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. i Para. 1/3 mp. 620 gp. 163
†i The Athenians, though a Republic, paid Twenty per Cent. for Money, as we
learn from Xenophon.--Edition A: and no note.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. i Para. 2/3 mp. 620 gp. 163
The Athenians, though govern'd by a Republic, paid Twenty per Cent. for those
sums of Money, which any emergent Occasion made it necessary for them to borrow;
as we learn from Xenophon. --Edition B: and no note.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 12 Var. i Para. 3/3 mp. 620 gp. 163
The Athenians, though governed by a republic, paid near two hundred per Cent.
for those sums of money, which any emergent occasion made it necessary for them
to borrow; as we learn from Xenophon.--Editions D to Q: and note.
Essay 13. OF ELOQUENCE
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 1/21 mp. 97 gp. 163
ESSAY XIII: OF ELOQUENCE
Those, who consider the periods and revolutions of human kind, as represented in
history, are entertained with a spectacle full of pleasure and variety, and see,
with surprize, the manners, customs, and opinions of the same species
susceptible of such prodigious changes in different periods of time. It may,
however, be observed, that, in civil history, there is found a much greater
uniformity than in the history of learning and science, and that the wars,
negociations, and politics of one age resemble more those of another, than the
taste, wit, and speculative principles. Interest and ambition, honour and shame,
friendship and enmity, gratitude and revenge, are the prime movers in all public
transactions; and these passions are of a very stubborn and intractable nature,
in comparison of the sentiments and understanding, which are easily varied by
education and example. The GOTHS were much more inferior to the ROMANS, in taste
and science, than in courage and virtue.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 2/21 mp. 98 gp. 164
But not to compare together nations so widely different;†a it may be observed,
that even this later period of human learning is, in many respects, of an
opposite character to the ancient; and that, if we be superior in philosophy, we
are still, notwithstanding all our refinements, much inferior in eloquence.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 3/21 mp. 98 gp. 164
In ancient times, no work of genius was thought to require so great parts and
capacity, as the speaking in public; and some eminent writers have pronounced
the talents, even of a great poet or philosopher, to be of an inferior nature to
those which are requisite for such an undertaking. GREECE and ROME produced,
each of them, but one accomplished orator; and whatever praises the other
celebrated speakers might merit, they were still esteemed much inferior to these
great models of eloquence. It is observable, that the ancient critics could
scarcely find two orators in any age, who deserved to be placed precisely in the
same rank, and possessed the same degree of merit. CALVUS, CAELIUS, CURIO,
HORTENSIUS, CAESAR rose one above another: But the greatest of that age was
inferior to CICERO, the most eloquent speaker, that had ever appeared in ROME.
Those of fine taste, however, pronounced this judgment of the ROMAN orator, as
well as of the GRECIAN, that both of them surpassed in eloquence all that had
ever appeared, but that they were far from reaching the perfection of their art,
which was infinite, and not only exceeded human force to attain, but human
imagination to conceive. CICERO declares himself dissatisfied with his own
performances; nay, even with those of DEMOSTHENES. Ita sunt avidae & capaces
meae aures, says he, & semper aliquid immensum, infinitumque desiderant.†b
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 4/21 mp. 99 gp. 165
Of all the polite and learned nations, ENGLAND alone possesses a popular
government, or admits into the legislature such numerous assemblies as can be
supposed to lie under the dominion of eloquence. But what has ENGLAND to boast
of in this particular? In enumerating the great men, who have done honour to our
country, we exult in our poets and philosophers; but what orators are ever
mentioned? Or where are the monuments of their genius to be met with? There are
found, indeed, in our histories, the names of several, who directed the
resolutions of our parliament: But neither themselves nor others have taken the
pains to preserve their speeches; and the authority, which they possessed, seems
to have been owing to their experience, wisdom, or power, more than to their
talents for oratory. At present, there are above half a dozen speakers in the
two houses, who, in the judgment of the public, have reached very near the same
pitch of eloquence; and no man pretends to give any one the preference above the
rest. This seems to me a certain proof, that none of them have attained much
beyond a mediocrity in their art, and that the species of eloquence, which they
aspire to, gives no exercise to the sublimer faculties of the mind, but may be
reached by ordinary talents and a slight application. A hundred cabinet-makers
in LONDON can work a table or a chair equally well; but no one poet can write
verses with such spirit and elegance as Mr. POPE.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 5/21 mp. 99 gp. 165
We are told, that, when DEMOSTHENES was to plead, all ingenious men flocked to
ATHENS from the most remote parts of GREECE, as to the most celebrated spectacle
of the world.†1 At LONDON you may see men sauntering in the court of requests,
while the most important debate is carrying on in the two houses; and many do
not think themselves sufficiently compensated, for the losing of their dinners,
by all the eloquence of our most celebrated speakers. When old CIBBER is to act,
the curiosity of several is more excited, than when our prime minister is to
defend himself from a motion for his removal or impeachment.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 6/21 mp. 100 gp. 166
Even a person, unacquainted with the noble remains of ancient orators, may
judge, from a few strokes, that the stile or species of their eloquence was
infinitely more sublime than that which modern orators aspire to. How absurd
would it appear, in our temperate and calm speakers, to make use of an
Apostrophe, like that noble one of DEMOSTHENES, so much celebrated by QUINTILIAN
and LONGINUS, when justifying the unsuccessful battle of CHAERONEA, he breaks
out, No, my Fellow-Citizens, No: You have not erred. I swear by the manes of
those heroes, who fought for the same cause in the plains of MARATHON and
PLATAEA. Who could now endure such a bold and poetical figure, as that which
CICERO employs, after describing in the most tragical terms the crucifixion of a
ROMAN citizen. Should I paint the horrors of this scene, not to ROMAN citizens,
not to the allies of our state, not to those who have ever heard of the ROMAN
Name, not even to men, but to brute creatures; or, to go farther, should I lift
up my voice in the most desolate solitude, to the rocks and mountains, yet
should I surely see those rude and inanimate parts of nature moved with horror
and indignation at the recital of so enormous an action.†2 With what a blaze of
eloquence must such a sentence be surrounded to give it grace, or cause it to
make any impression on the hearers? And what noble art and sublime talents are
requisite to arrive, by just degrees, at a sentiment so bold and excessive: To
inflame the audience, so as to make them accompany the speaker in such violent
passions, and such elevated conceptions: And to conceal, under a torrent of
eloquence, the artifice, by which all this is effectuated!†c Should this
sentiment even appear to us excessive, as perhaps it justly may, it will at
least serve to give an idea of the stile of ancient eloquence, where such
swelling expressions were not rejected as wholly monstrous and gigantic.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 7/21 mp. 101 gp. 166
Suitable to this vehemence of thought and expression, was the vehemence of
action, observed in the ancient orators. The supplosio pedis, or stamping with
the foot, was one of the most usual and moderate gestures which they made use
of;†3 though that is now esteemed too violent, either for the senate, bar, or
pulpit, and is only admitted into the theatre, to accompany the most violent
passions, which are there represented.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 8/21 mp. 102 gp. 167
One is somewhat at a loss to what cause we may ascribe so sensible a decline of
eloquence in later ages. The genius of mankind, at all times, is, perhaps,
equal: The moderns have applied themselves, with great industry and success, to
all the other arts and sciences: And a learned nation possesses a popular
government; a circumstance which seems requisite for the full display of these
noble talents: But notwithstanding all these advantages, our progress in
eloquence is very inconsiderable, in comparison of the advances, which we have
made in all other parts of learning.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 9/21 mp. 102 gp. 167
Shall we assert, that the strains of ancient eloquence are unsuitable to our
age, and ought not to be imitated by modern orators? Whatever reasons may be
made use of to prove this, I am persuaded they will be found, upon examination,
to be unsound and unsatisfactory.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 10/21 mp. 102 gp. 167
First, It may be said, that, in ancient times, during the flourishing period of
GREEK and ROMAN learning, the municipal laws, in every state, were but few and
simple, and the decision of causes, was, in a great measure, left to the equity
and common sense of the judges. The study of the laws was not then a laborious
occupation, requiring the drudgery of a whole life to finish it, and
incompatible with every other study or profession. The great statesmen and
generals among the ROMANS were all lawyers; and CICERO, to shew the facility of
acquiring this science, declares, that, in the midst of all his occupations, he
would undertake, in a few days, to make himself a compleat civilian. Now, where
a pleader addresses himself to the equity of his judges, he has much more room
to display his eloquence, than where he must draw his arguments from strict
laws, statutes, and precedents. In the former case, many circumstances must be
taken in; many personal considerations regarded; and even favour and
inclination, which it belongs to the orator, by his art and eloquence, to
conciliate, may be disguised under the appearance of equity. But how shall a
modern lawyer have leisure to quit his toilsome occupations, in order to gather
the flowers of PARNASSUS? Or what opportunity shall he have of displaying them,
amidst the rigid and subtile arguments, objections, and replies, which he is
obliged to make use of? The greatest genius, and greatest orator, who should
pretend to plead before the Chancellor, after a month's study of the laws, would
only labour to make himself ridiculous.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 11/21 mp. 103 gp. 168
I am ready to own, that this circumstance, of the multiplicity and intricacy of
laws, is a discouragement to eloquence in modern times: But I assert, that it
will not entirely account for the decline of that noble art. It may banish
oratory from WESTMINSTER-HALL, but not from either house of parliament. Among
the ATHENIANS, the AREOPAGITES expressly forbad all allurements of eloquence;
and some have pretended that in the GREEK orations, written in the judiciary
form, there is not so bold and rhetorical a stile, as appears in the ROMAN. But
to what a pitch did the ATHENIANS carry their eloquence in the deliberative
kind, when affairs of state were canvassed, and the liberty, happiness, and
honour of the republic were the subject of debate? Disputes of this nature
elevate the genius above all others, and give the fullest scope to eloquence;
and such disputes are very frequent in this nation.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 12/21 mp. 103 gp. 168
Secondly, It may be pretended that the decline of eloquence is owing to the
superior good sense of the moderns, who reject with disdain all those rhetorical
tricks, employed to seduce the judges, and will admit of nothing but solid
argument in any debate or deliberation. If a man be accused of murder, the fact
must be proved by witnesses and evidence; and the laws will afterwards determine
the punishment of the criminal. It would be ridiculous to describe, in strong
colours, the horror and cruelty of the action: To introduce the relations of the
dead; and, at a signal, make them throw themselves at the feet of the judges,
imploring justice with tears and lamentations: And still more ridiculous would
it be, to employ a picture representing the bloody deed, in order to move the
judges by the display of so tragical a spectacle: Though we know, that this
artifice was sometimes practised by the pleaders of old.†4 Now, banish the
pathetic from public discourses, and you reduce the speakers merely to modern
eloquence; that is, to good sense, delivered in proper expression.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 13/21 mp. 104 gp. 169
Perhaps it may be acknowledged, that our modern customs, or our superior good
sense, if you will, should make our orators more cautious and reserved than the
ancient, in attempting to inflame the passions, or elevate the imagination of
their audience: But, I see no reason, why it should make them despair absolutely
of succeeding in that attempt. It should make them redouble their art, not
abandon it entirely. The ancient orators seem also to have been on their guard
against this jealousy of their audience; but they took a different way of
eluding it.†5 They hurried away with such a torrent of sublime and pathetic,
that they left their hearers no leisure to perceive the artifice, by which they
were deceived. Nay, to consider the matter aright, they were not deceived by any
artifice. The orator, by the force of his own genius and eloquence, first
inflamed himself with anger, indignation, pity, sorrow; and then communicated
those impetuous movements to his audience.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 14/21 mp. 105 gp. 169
Does any man pretend to have more good sense than JULIUS CAESAR? yet that
haughty conqueror, we know, was so subdued by the charms of CICERO'S eloquence,
that he was, in a manner, constrained to change his settled purpose and
resolution, and to absolve a criminal, whom, before that orator pleaded, he was
determined to condemn.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 15/21 mp. 105 gp. 169
†d Some objections, I own, notwithstanding his vast success, may lie against
some passages of the ROMAN orator. He is too florid and rhetorical: His figures
are too striking and palpable: The divisions of his discourse are drawn chiefly
from the rules of the schools: And his wit disdains not always the artifice even
of a pun, rhyme, or jingle of words. The GRECIAN addressed himself to an
audience much less refined than the ROMAN senate or judges. The lowest vulgar of
ATHENS were his sovereigns, and the arbiters of his eloquence.†6 Yet is his
manner more chaste and austere than that of the other. Could it be copied, its
success would be infallible over a modern assembly. It is rapid harmony, exactly
adjusted to the sense: It is vehement reasoning, without any appearance of art:
It is disdain, anger, boldness, freedom, involved in a continued stream of
argument: And of all human productions, the orations of DEMOSTHENES present to
us the models, which approach the nearest to perfection.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 16/21 mp. 106 gp. 170
Thirdly, It may be pretended, that the disorders of the ancient governments, and
the enormous crimes, of which the citizens were often guilty, afforded much
ampler matter for eloquence than can be met with among the moderns. Were there
no VERRES or CATILINE, there would be no CICERO. But that this reason can have
no great influence, is evident. It would be easy to find a PHILIP in modern
times; but where shall we find a DEMOSTHENES?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 17/21 mp. 106 gp. 170
What remains, then, but that we lay the blame on the want of genius, or of
judgment in our speakers, who either found themselves incapable of reaching the
heights of ancient eloquence, or rejected all such endeavours, as unsuitable to
the spirit of modern assemblies? A few successful attempts of this nature might
rouze the genius of the nation, excite the emulation of the youth, and accustom
our ears to a more sublime and more pathetic elocution, than what we have been
hitherto entertained with. There is certainly something accidental in the first
rise and the progress of the arts in any nation. I doubt whether a very
satisfactory reason can be given, why ancient ROME, though it received all its
refinements from GREECE, could attain only to a relish for statuary, painting
and architecture, without reaching the practice of these arts: While modern ROME
has been excited, by a few remains found among the ruins of antiquity, and has
produced artists of the greatest eminence and distinction. Had such a cultivated
genius for oratory, as WALLER'S†e for poetry, arisen, during the civil wars,
when liberty began to be fully established, and popular assemblies to enter into
all the most material points of government; I am persuaded so illustrious an
example would have given a quite different turn to BRITISH eloquence, and made
us reach the perfection of the ancient model. Our orators would then have done
honour to their country, as well as our poets, geometers, and philosophers, and
BRITISH CICEROS have appeared, as well as BRITISH†f ARCHIMEDESES and VIRGILS.†g
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 18/21 mp. 107 gp. 172
It is seldom or never found, when a false taste in poetry or eloquence prevails
among any people, that it has been preferred to a true, upon comparison and
reflection. It commonly prevails merely from ignorance of the true, and from the
want of perfect models, to lead men into a juster apprehension, and more refined
relish of those productions of genius. When these appear, they soon unite all
suffrages in their favour, and, by their natural and powerful charms, gain over,
even the most prejudiced, to the love and admiration of them. The principles of
every passion, and of every sentiment, is in every man; and when touched
properly, they rise to life, and warm the heart, and convey that satisfaction,
by which a work of genius is distinguished from the adulterate beauties of a
capricious wit and fancy. And if this observation be true, with regard to all
the liberal arts, it must be peculiarly so, with regard to eloquence; which,
being merely calculated for the public, and for men of the world, cannot, with
any pretence of reason, appeal from the people to more refined judges; but must
submit to the public verdict, without reserve or limitation. Whoever, upon
comparison, is deemed by a common audience the greatest orator, ought most
certainly to be pronounced such, by men of science and erudition. And though an
indifferent speaker may triumph for a long time, and be esteemed altogether
perfect by the vulgar, who are satisfied with his accomplishments, and know not
in what he is defective: Yet, whenever the true genius arises, he draws to him
the attention of every one, and immediately appears superior to his rival.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 19/21 mp. 108 gp. 172
Now to judge by this rule, ancient eloquence, that is, the sublime and
passionate, is of a much juster taste than the modern, or the argumentative and
rational; and, if properly executed, will always have more command and authority
over mankind. We are satisfied with our mediocrity, because we have had no
experience of any thing better: But the ancients had experience of both, and,
upon comparison, gave the preference to that kind, of which they have left us
such applauded models. For, if I mistake not, our modern eloquence is of the
same stile or species with that which ancient critics denominated ATTIC
eloquence, that is, calm, elegant, and subtile, which instructed the reason more
than affected the passions, and never raised its tone above argument or common
discourse. Such was the eloquence of LYSIAS among the ATHENIANS, and of CALVUS
among the ROMANS. These were esteemed in their time; but when compared with
DEMOSTHENES and CICERO, were eclipsed like a taper when set in the rays of a
meridian sun. Those latter orators possessed the same elegance, and subtilty,
and force of argument, with the former; but what rendered them chiefly
admirable, was that pathetic and sublime, which, on proper occasions, they threw
into their discourse, and by which they commanded the resolution of their
audience.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 20/21 mp. 108 gp. 173
Of this species of eloquence we have scarcely had any instance in ENGLAND, at
least in our public speakers. In our writers, we have had some instances, which
have met with great applause, and might assure our ambitious youth of equal or
superior glory in attempts for the revival of ancient eloquence. Lord
BOLINGBROKE'S productions,†h with all their defects in argument, method, and
precision, contain a force and energy which our orators scarcely ever aim at;
though it is evident, that such an elevated stile has much better grace in a
speaker than in a writer, and is assured of more prompt and more astonishing
success. It is there seconded by the graces of voice and action: The movements
are mutually communicated between the orator and the audience: And the very
aspect of a large assembly, attentive to the discourse of one man, must inspire
him with a peculiar elevation, sufficient to give a propriety to the strongest
figures and expressions. It is true, there is a great prejudice against set
speeches; and a man cannot escape ridicule, who repeats a discourse as a
school-boy does his lesson, and takes no notice of any thing that has been
advanced in the course of the debate. But where is the necessity of falling into
this absurdity? A public speaker must know beforehand the question under debate.
He may compose all the arguments, objections, and answers, such as he thinks
will be most proper for his discourse.†7 If any thing new occur, he may supply
it from his invention; nor will the difference be very apparent between his
elaborate and his extemporary compositions. The mind naturally continues with
the same impetus or force, which it has acquired by its motion; as a vessel,
once impelled by the oars, carries on its course for some time, when the
original impulse is suspended.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Para. 21/21 mp. 109 gp. 174
I shall conclude this subject with observing, that, even though our modern
orators should not elevate their stile or aspire to a rivalship with the
ancient; yet is there, in most of their speeches, a material defect, which they
might correct, without departing from that composed air of argument and
reasoning, to which they limit their ambition. Their great affectation of
extemporary discourses has made them reject all order and method, which seems so
requisite to argument, and without which it is scarcely possible to produce an
entire conviction on the mind. It is not, that one would recommend many
divisions in a public discourse, unless the subject very evidently offer them:
But it is easy, without this formality, to observe a method, and make that
method conspicuous to the hearers, who will be infinitely pleased to see the
arguments rise naturally from one another, and will retain a more thorough
persuasion, than can arise from the strongest reasons, which are thrown together
in confusion.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Foot. 1 mp. 99 gp. 165
†1 Ne illud quidem intelligunt, non modo ita memoriae proditum esse, sed ita
necesse fuisse, cum DEMOSTHENES dicturus esset, ut concursus, audiendi causa, ex
tota GRECIA fierent. At cum isti ATTICI dicunt, non modo a corona (quod est
ipsum miserabile) sed etiam ab advocatis relinquuntur. CICERO de Claris
Oratoribus, c. 84.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Foot. 2 mp. 101 gp. 166
†2 The original is; Quod si haec non ad cives Romanos, non ad aliquos amicos
nostrae civitatis, non ad eos qui populi Romani nomen audissent; denique si non
ad homines, verum ad bestias; aut etiam, ut longius progrediar, si in aliqua
desertissima solitudine, ad saxa & ad scopulos haec conqueri & deplorare vellem,
tamen omnia muta atque inanima, tanta & tam indigna rerum atrocitate
commoverentur. CIC. in Ver. Act ii. Lib. v. c. 67.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Foot. 3 mp. 101 gp. 167
†3 Ubi dolor? Ubi ardor animi, qui etiam ex infantium ingeniis elicere voces &
querelas solet? nulla perturbatio animi, nulla corporis: frons non percussa, non
femur; pedis (quod minimum est) nulla supplosio. Itaque tantum abfuit ut
inflammares nostros animos; somnum isto loco vix tenebamus. CICERO de Claris
Oratoribus, c. 80.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Foot. 4 mp. 104 gp. 169
†4 QUINTIL. lib. vi. cap. 1.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Foot. 5 mp. 104 gp. 169
†5 LONGINUS, cap. 15.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Foot. 6 mp. 105 gp. 169
†6 The orators formed the taste of the ATHENIAN people, not the people of the
orators. GORGIAS LEONTINUS was very taking with them, till they became
acquainted with a better manner. His figures of speech, says DIODORUS SICULUS,
his antithesis, his {isokolon}, his {omoioteleuton}, which are now despised, had
a great effect upon the audience. Lib. xii. page 106. ex editione RHOD. It is in
vain therefore for modern orators to plead the taste of their hearers as an
apology for their lame performances. It would be strange prejudice in favour of
antiquity, not to allow a BRITISH parliament to be naturally superior in
judgment and delicacy to an ATHENIAN mob.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Foot. 7 mp. 109 gp. 174
†7 The first of the ATHENIANS, who composed and wrote his speeches, was
PERICLES, a man of business and a man of sense, if ever there was one, {Protos
grapton logon en dikasterio eipe, ton pro autou schediazonton}. Suidas in
{Perikles}.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. a mp. 620 gp. 164
†a Editions C to P add: that they may almost be esteemed of a different species.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. b mp. 621 gp. 165
†b Editions C to P add: This single circumstance is sufficient to make us
apprehend the wide difference between ancient and modern eloquence, and to let
us see how much the latter is inferior to the former.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. c mp. 621 gp. 166
†c This sentence was added in Edition P.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. d mp. 621 gp. 169
†d The paragraph was added in Edition K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. e mp. 621 gp. 170
†e As my Lord Bolingbroke.--C and D.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. f mp. 621 gp. 171
†f Platos and Virgils.--C and D. Plutarchs and Virgils.--K to P.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. g Para. 1/3 mp. 621 gp. 171
†g C to P proceed: I have confest that there is something accidental in the
origin and progress of the arts in any nation; and yet I cannot forbear
thinking, that if the other learned and polite nations of EUROPE had possest the
same advantages of a popular government, they would probably have carried
eloquence to a greater height than it has yet reached in BRITAIN. The FRENCH
sermons, especially those of FLECHIER and BOSSUET, are much superior to the
ENGLISH in this particular; and [C and D: and in Flechier there are found many
strokes of the most sublime poetry. His funeral sermon on the Marechal de
Turenne is a good instance.] in both these authors are found many strokes of the
most sublime poetry. None but private causes, in that country, are ever debated
before their parliaments or courts of judicature; but notwithstanding this
disadvantage, there appears a spirit of eloquence in many of their lawyers,
which, with proper cultivation and encouragement, might rise to the greatest
height. The pleadings of PATRU are very elegant, and give us room to imagine
what so fine a genius could have performed in questions concerning public
liberty or slavery, peace or war, who exerts himself with such success in
debates concerning the price of an old horse, or a gossiping story of a quarrel
between an abbess and her nuns. For 'tis remarkable, that this polite writer,
tho' esteemed by all the men of wit in his time, was never employed in the most
considerable causes of their courts of judicature, but lived and died in
poverty: From an ancient prejudice industriously propagated by the dunces in all
countries, That a man of genius is unfit for business. The disorders produced by
the factions against cardinal MAZARINE, made the parliament of PARIS enter into
the discussion of public affairs, and during that short interval, there appeared
many symptoms of the revival of ancient eloquence. The avocat general TALON, in
an oration, invoked on his knees, the spirit of St. LOUIS to look down with
compassion on his divided and unhappy people, and to inspire them, from above,
with the love of concord and unanimity.†1 The members of the FRENCH academy have
attempted to give us models of eloquence in their harangues at their admittance:
But, having no subject to discourse upon, they have run altogether into a
fulsome strain of panegyric and flattery, the most barren of all subjects. Their
stile, however, is commonly, on these occasions, very elevated and sublime, and
might reach the greatest heights, were it employed on a subject more favourable
and engaging.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. g Para. 2/3 mp. 622 gp. 171
There are some circumstances, I confess, in the ENGLISH temper and genius, which
are disadvantageous to the progress of eloquence, and render all attempts of
that kind more dangerous and difficult among them than among any other nation.
The ENGLISH are conspicuous for good-sense, which makes them very jealous of any
attempts to deceive them by the flowers of rhetoric and elocution. They are also
peculiarly modest; which makes them consider it as a piece of arrogance to offer
any thing but reason to public assemblies, or attempt to guide them by passion
or fancy. I may, perhaps, be allowed to add, that the people in general are not
remarkable for delicacy of taste, or for sensibility to the charms of the muses.
Their musical parts, to use the expression of a noble author, are but
indifferent. Hence their comic poets, to move them, must have recourse to
obscenity; their tragic poets to blood and slaughter: And hence their orators,
being deprived of any such resource, have abandoned altogether the hopes of
moving them, and have confined themselves to plain argument and reasoning.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. g Para. 3/3 mp. 622 gp. 172
These circumstances, joined to particular accidents, may, perhaps, have retarded
the growth of eloquence in this kingdom; but will not be able to prevent its
success, if ever it appear amongst us: And one may safely pronounce, that this
is a field, in which the most flourishing laurels may yet be gathered, if any
youth of accomplished genius, thoroughly acquainted with all the polite arts,
and not ignorant of public business, should appear in parliament, and accustom
our ears to an eloquence more commanding and pathetic. And to confirm me in this
opinion, there occur two considerations, the one derived from ancient, the other
from modern times.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. g Foot. 1 mp. 622 gp. 171
†1 De Retz's Memoirs
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 13 Var. h mp. 622 gp. 173
†h "with . . . precision";--this clause was added in Edition K.
Essay 14. OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE ARTS AND SCIENCES
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 1/50 mp. 111 gp. 174
ESSAY XIV: OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE ARTS AND SCIENCES
Nothing requires greater nicety, in our enquiries concerning human affairs, than
to distinguish exactly what is owing to chance, and what proceeds from causes;
nor is there any subject, in which an author is more liable to deceive himself
by false subtilties and refinements. To say, that any event is derived from
chance, cuts short all farther enquiry concerning it, and leaves the writer in
the same state of ignorance with the rest of mankind. But when the event is
supposed to proceed from certain and stable causes, he may then display his
ingenuity, in assigning these causes; and as a man of any subtilty can never be
at a loss in this particular, he has thereby an opportunity of swelling his
volumes, and discovering his profound knowledge, in observing what escapes the
vulgar and ignorant.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 2/50 mp. 112 gp. 175
The distinguishing between chance and causes must depend upon every particular
man's sagacity, in considering every particular incident. But, if I were to
assign any general rule to help us in applying this distinction, it would be the
following, What depends upon a few persons is, in a great measure, to be
ascribed to chance, or secret and unknown causes: What arises from a great
number, may often be accounted for by determinate and known causes.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 3/50 mp. 112 gp. 175
Two natural reasons may be assigned for this rule. First, If you suppose a dye
to have any biass, however small, to a particular side, this biass, though,
perhaps, it may not appear in a few throws, will certainly prevail in a great
number, and will cast the balance entirely to that side. In like manner, when
any causes beget a particular inclination or passion, at a certain time, and
among a certain people; though many individuals may escape the contagion, and be
ruled by passions peculiar to themselves; yet the multitude will certainly be
seized by the common affection, and be governed by it in all their actions.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 4/50 mp. 112 gp. 175
Secondly, Those principles or causes, which are fitted to operate on a
multitude, are always of a grosser and more stubborn nature, less subject to
accidents, and less influenced by whim and private fancy, than those which
operate on a few only. The latter are commonly so delicate and refined, that the
smallest incident in the health, education, or fortune of a particular person,
is sufficient to divert their course, and retard their operation; nor is it
possible to reduce them to any general maxims or observations. Their influence
at one time will never assure us concerning their influence at another; even
though all the general circumstances should be the same in both cases.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 5/50 mp. 112 gp. 175
To judge by this rule, the domestic and the gradual revolutions of a state must
be a more proper subject of reasoning and observation, than the foreign and the
violent, which are commonly produced by single persons, and are more influenced
by whim, folly, or caprice, than by general passions and interests. The
depression of the lords, and rise of the commons in ENGLAND, after the statutes
of alienation and the encrease of trade and industry, are more easily accounted
for by general principles, than the depression of the SPANISH, and rise of the
FRENCH monarchy, after the death of CHARLES QUINT. Had HARRY IV. Cardinal
RICHLIEU, and LOUIS XIV. been SPANIARDS; and PHILIP II. III. and IV. and CHARLES
II. been FRENCHMEN, the history of these two nations had been entirely reversed.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 6/50 mp. 113 gp. 176
For the same reason, it is more easy to account for the rise and progress of
commerce in any kingdom, than for that of learning; and a state, which should
apply itself to the encouragement of the one, would be more assured of success,
than one which should cultivate the other. Avarice, or the desire of gain, is an
universal passion, which operates at all times, in all places, and upon all
persons: But curiosity, or the love of knowledge, has a very limited influence,
and requires youth, leisure, education, genius, and example, to make it govern
any person. You will never want booksellers, while there are buyers of books:
But there may frequently be readers where there are no authors. Multitudes of
people, necessity and liberty, have begotten commerce in HOLLAND: But study and
application have scarcely produced any eminent writers.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 7/50 mp. 113 gp. 176
We may, therefore, conclude, that there is no subject, in which we must proceed
with more caution, than in tracing the history of the arts and sciences; lest we
assign causes which never existed, and reduce what is merely contingent to
stable and universal principles. Those who cultivate the sciences in any state,
are always few in number: The passion, which governs them, limited: Their taste
and judgment delicate and easily perverted: And their application disturbed with
the smallest accident. Chance, therefore, or secret and unknown causes, must
have a great influence on the rise and progress of all the refined arts.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 8/50 mp. 114 gp. 176
But there is a reason, which induces me not to ascribe the matter altogether to
chance. Though the persons, who cultivate the sciences with such astonishing
success, as to attract the admiration of posterity, be always few, in all
nations and all ages; it is impossible but a share of the same spirit and genius
must be antecedently diffused throughout the people among whom they arise, in
order to produce, form, and cultivate, from their earliest infancy, the taste
and judgment of those eminent writers. The mass cannot be altogether insipid,
from which such refined spirits are extracted. There is a God within us, says
OVID, who breathes that divine fire, by which we are animated.†1 Poets, in all
ages, have advanced this claim to inspiration. There is not, however, any thing
supernatural in the case. Their fire is not kindled from heaven. It only runs
along the earth; is caught from one breast to another; and burns brightest,
where the materials are best prepared, and most happily disposed. The question,
therefore, concerning the rise and progress of the arts and sciences, is not
altogether a question concerning the taste, genius, and spirit of a few, but
concerning those of a whole people; and may, therefore, be accounted for, in
some measure, by general causes and principles. I grant, that a man, who should
enquire, why such a particular poet, as HOMER, for instance, existed, at such a
place, in such a time, would throw himself headlong into chimaera, and could
never treat of such a subject, without a multitude of false subtilties and
refinements. He might as well pretend to give a reason, why such particular
generals, as FABIUS and SCIPIO, lived in ROME at such a time, and why FABIUS
came into the world before SCIPIO. For such incidents as these, no other reason
can be given than that of HORACE:
Scit genius, natale comes, qui temperat astrum
Naturae Deus humanae, mortalis in unum--
---Quodque caput, vultu mutabilis, albuss & ater.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 9/50 mp. 115 gp. 177
But I am persuaded, that in many cases good reasons might be given, why such a
nation is more polite and learned, at a particular time, than any of its
neighbours. At least, this is so curious a subject, that it were a pity to
abandon it entirely, before we have found whether it be susceptible of
reasoning, and can be reduced to any general principles.†a
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 10/50 mp. 115 gp. 177
My first observation on this head is, That it is impossible for the arts and
sciences to arise, at first, among any people unless that people enjoy the
blessing of a free government.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 11/50 mp. 115 gp. 178
In the first ages of the world, when men are as yet barbarous and ignorant, they
seek no farther security against mutual violence and injustice, than the choice
of some rulers, few or many, in whom they place an implicit confidence, without
providing any security, by laws or political institutions, against the violence
and injustice of these rulers. If the authority be centered in a single person,
and if the people, either by conquest, or by the ordinary course of propagation,
encrease to a great multitude, the monarch, finding it impossible, in his own
person, to execute every office of sovereignty, in every place, must delegate
his authority to inferior magistrates, who preserve peace and order in their
respective districts. As experience and education have not yet refined the
judgments of men to any considerable degree, the prince, who is himself
unrestrained, never dreams of restraining his ministers, but delegates his full
authority to every one, whom he sets over any portion of the people. All general
laws are attended with inconveniencies, when applied to particular cases; and it
requires great penetration and experience, both to perceive that these
inconveniencies are fewer than what result from full discretionary powers in
every magistrate; and also to discern what general laws are, upon the whole,
attended with fewest inconveniencies. This is a matter of so great difficulty,
that men may have made some advances, even in the sublime arts of poetry and
eloquence, where a rapidity of genius and imagination assists their progress,
before they have arrived at any great refinement in their municipal laws, where
frequent trials and diligent observation can alone direct their improvements. It
is not, therefore, to be supposed, that a barbarous monarch, unrestrained and
uninstructed, will ever become a legislator, or think of restraining his
Bashaws, in every province, or even his Cadis in every village. We are told,
that the late Czar, though actuated with a noble genius, and smit with the love
and admiration of EUROPEAN arts; yet professed an esteem for the TURKISH policy
in this particular, and approved of such summary decisions of causes, as are
practised in that barbarous monarchy, where the judges are not restrained by any
methods, forms, or laws. He did not perceive, how contrary such a practice would
have been to all his other endeavours for refining his people. Arbitrary power,
in all cases, is somewhat oppressive and debasing; but it is altogether ruinous
and intolerable, when contracted into a small compass; and becomes still worse,
when the person, who possesses it, knows that the time of his authority is
limited and uncertain. Habet subjectos tanquam suos; viles, ut alienos.†2 He
governs the subjects with full authority, as if they were his own; and with
negligence or tyranny, as belonging to another. A people, governed after such a
manner, are slaves in the full and proper sense of the word; and it is
impossible they can ever aspire to any refinements of taste or reason. They dare
not so much as pretend to enjoy the necessaries of life in plenty or security.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 12/50 mp. 117 gp. 179
To expect, therefore, that the arts and sciences should take their first rise in
a monarchy, is to expect a contradiction. Before these refinements have taken
place, the monarch is ignorant and uninstructed; and not having knowledge
sufficient to make him sensible of the necessity of balancing his government
upon general laws, he delegates his full power to all inferior magistrates. This
barbarous policy debases the people, and for ever prevents all improvements.
Were it possible, that, before science were known in the world, a monarch could
possess so much wisdom as to become a legislator, and govern his people by law,
not by the arbitrary will of their fellow-subjects, it might be possible for
that species of government to be the first nursery of arts and sciences. But
that supposition seems scarcely to be consistent or rational.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 13/50 mp. 117 gp. 179
It may happen, that a republic, in its infant state, may be supported by as few
laws as a barbarous monarchy, and may entrust as unlimited an authority to its
magistrates or judges. But, besides that the frequent elections by the people,
are a considerable check upon authority; it is impossible, but, in time, the
necessity of restraining the magistrates, in order to preserve liberty, must at
last appear, and give rise to general laws and statutes. The ROMAN Consuls, for
some time, decided all causes, without being confined by any positive statutes,
till the people, bearing this yoke with impatience, created the decemvirs, who
promulgated the twelve tables; a body of laws, which, though, perhaps, they were
not equal in bulk to one ENGLISH act of parliament, were almost the only written
rules, which regulated property and punishment, for some ages, in that famous
republic. They were, however, sufficient, together with the forms of a free
government, to secure the lives and properties of the citizens, to exempt one
man from the dominion of another; and to protect every one against the violence
or tyranny of his fellow-citizens. In such a situation the sciences may raise
their heads and flourish: But never can have being amidst such a scene of
oppression and slavery, as always results from barbarous monarchies, where the
people alone are restrained by the authority of the magistrates, and the
magistrates are not restrained by any law or statute. An unlimited despotism of
this nature, while it exists, effectually puts a stop to all improvements, and
keeps men from attaining that knowledge, which is requisite to instruct them in
the advantages, arising from a better police, and more moderate authority.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 14/50 mp. 118 gp. 180
Here then are the advantages of free states. Though a republic should be
barbarous, it necessarily, by an infallible operation, gives rise to LAW, even
before mankind have made any considerable advances in the other sciences. From
law arises security: From security curiosity: And from curiosity knowledge. The
latter steps of this progress may be more accidental; but the former are
altogether necessary. A republic without laws can never have any duration. On
the contrary, in a monarchical government, law arises not necessarily from the
forms of government. Monarchy, when absolute, contains even something repugnant
to law. Great wisdom and reflexion can alone reconcile them. But such a degree
of wisdom can never be expected, before the greater refinements and improvements
of human reason. These refinements require curiosity, security, and law. The
first growth, therefore, of the arts and sciences can never be expected in
despotic governments.†b
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 15/50 mp. 118 gp. 180
There are other causes, which discourage the rise of the refined arts in
despotic governments; though I take the want of laws, and the delegation of full
powers to every petty magistrate, to be the principal. Eloquence certainly
springs up more naturally in popular governments: Emulation too in every
accomplishment must there be more animated and enlivened: And genius and
capacity have a fuller scope and career. All these causes render free
governments the only proper nursery for the arts and sciences.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 16/50 mp. 119 gp. 181
The next observation, which I shall make on this head, is, That nothing is more
favourable to the rise of politeness and learning, than a number of neighbouring
and independent states, connected together by commerce and policy. The
emulation, which naturally arises among those neighbouring states, is an obvious
source of improvement: But what I would chiefly insist on is the stop, which
such limited territories give both to power and to authority.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 17/50 mp. 119 gp. 181
Extended governments, where a single person has great influence, soon become
absolute; but small ones change naturally into commonwealths. A large government
is accustomed by degrees to tyranny; because each act of violence is at first
performed upon a part, which, being distant from the majority, is not taken
notice of, nor excites any violent ferment. Besides, a large government, though
the whole be discontented, may, by a little art, be kept in obedience; while
each part, ignorant of the resolutions of the rest, is afraid to begin any
commotion or insurrection. Not to mention, that there is a superstitious
reverence for princes, which mankind naturally contract when they do not often
see the sovereign, and when many of them become not acquainted with him so as to
perceive his weaknesses. And as large states can afford a great expence, in
order to support the pomp of majesty; this is a kind of fascination on men, and
naturally contributes to the enslaving of them.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 18/50 mp. 119 gp. 181
In a small government, any act of oppression is immediately known throughout the
whole: The murmurs and discontents, proceeding from it, are easily communicated:
And the indignation arises the higher, because the subjects are not apt to
apprehend in such states, that the distance is very wide between themselves and
their sovereign. "No man," said the prince of CONDE, "is a hero to his Valet de
Chambre." It is certain that admiration and acquaintance are altogether
incompatible towards any mortal creature.†c Sleep and love convinced even
ALEXANDER himself that he was not a God: But I suppose that such as daily
attended him could easily, from the numberless weaknesses to which he was
subject, have given him many still more convincing proofs of his humanity.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 19/50 mp. 120 gp. 182
But the divisions into small states are favourable to learning, by stopping the
progress of authority as well as that of power. Reputation is often as great a
fascination upon men as sovereignty, and is equally destructive to the freedom
of thought and examination. But where a number of neighbouring states have a
great intercourse of arts and commerce, their mutual jealousy keeps them from
receiving too lightly the law from each other, in matters of taste and of
reasoning, and makes them examine every work of art with the greatest care and
accuracy. The contagion of popular opinion spreads not so easily from one place
to another. It readily receives a check in some state or other, where it concurs
not with the prevailing prejudices. And nothing but nature and reason,†d or, at
least, what bears them a strong resemblance, can force its way through all
obstacles, and unite the most rival nations into an esteem and admiration of it.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 20/50 mp. 120 gp. 182
GREECE was a cluster of little principalities, which soon became republics; and
being united both by their near neighbourhood, and by the ties of the same
language and interest, they entered into the closest intercourse of commerce and
learning. There concurred a happy climate, a soil not unfertile, and a most
harmonious and comprehensive language; so that every circumstance among that
people seemed to favour the rise of the arts and sciences. Each city produced
its several artists and philosophers, who refused to yield the preference to
those of the neighbouring republics: Their contention and debates sharpened the
wits of men: A variety of objects was presented to the judgment, while each
challenged the preference to the rest: and the sciences, not being dwarfed by
the restraint of authority, were enabled to make such considerable shoots, as
are, even at this time, the objects of our admiration. After the ROMAN
christian, or catholic church had spread itself over the civilized world, and
had engrossed all the learning of the times; being really one large state within
itself, and united under one head; this variety of sects immediately
disappeared, and the PERIPATETIC philosophy was alone admitted into all the
schools, to the utter depravation of every kind of learning. But mankind, having
at length thrown off this yoke, affairs are now returned nearly to the same
situation as before, and EUROPE is at present a copy at large, of what GREECE
was formerly a pattern in miniature. We have seen the advantage of this
situation in several instances. What checked the progress of the CARTESIAN
philosophy, to which the FRENCH nation shewed such a strong propensity towards
the end of the last century, but the opposition made to it by the other nations
of EUROPE, who soon discovered the weak sides of that philosophy? The severest
scrutiny, which NEWTON'S theory has undergone, proceeded not from his own
countrymen, but from foreigners; and if it can overcome the obstacles, which it
meets with at present in all parts of EUROPE, it will probably go down
triumphant to the latest posterity. The ENGLISH are become sensible of the
scandalous licentiousness of their stage, from the example of the FRENCH decency
and morals. The FRENCH are convinced, that their theatre has become somewhat
effeminate, by too much love and gallantry; and begin to approve of the more
masculine taste of some neighbouring nations.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 21/50 mp. 122 gp. 183
In CHINA, there seems to be a pretty considerable stock of politeness and
science, which, in the course of so many centuries, might naturally be expected
to ripen into something more perfect and finished, than what has yet arisen from
them. But CHINA is one vast empire, speaking one language, governed by one law,
and sympathizing in the same manners. The authority of any teacher, such as
CONFUCIUS, was propagated easily from one corner of the empire to the other.
None had courage to resist the torrent of popular opinion. And posterity was not
bold enough to dispute what had been universally received by their ancestors.
This seems to be one natural reason, why the sciences have made so slow a
progress in that mighty empire.†3
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 22/50 mp. 122 gp. 184
If we consider the face of the globe, EUROPE, of all the four parts of the
world, is the most broken by seas, rivers, and mountains; and GREECE of all
countries of EUROPE. Hence these regions were naturally divided into several
distinct governments. And hence the sciences arose in GREECE; and EUROPE has
been hitherto the most constant habitation of them.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 23/50 mp. 123 gp. 184
I have sometimes been inclined to think, that interruptions in the periods of
learning, were they not attended with such a destruction of ancient books, and
the records of history, would be rather favourable to the arts and sciences, by
breaking the progress of authority, and dethroning the tyrannical usurpers over
human reason. In this particular, they have the same influence, as interruptions
in political governments and societies. Consider the blind submission of the
ancient philosophers to the several masters in each school, and you will be
convinced, that little good could be expected from a hundred centuries of such a
servile philosophy. Even the ECLECTICS, who arose about the age of AUGUSTUS,
notwithstanding their professing to chuse freely what pleased them from every
different sect, were yet, in the main, as slavish and dependent as any of their
brethren; since they sought for truth not in nature, but in the several schools;
where they supposed she must necessarily be found, though not united in a body,
yet dispersed in parts. Upon the revival of learning, those sects of STOICS and
EPICUREANS, PLATONISTS and PYTHAGORICIANS, could never regain any credit or
authority; and, at the same time, by the example of their fall, kept men from
submitting, with such blind deference, to those new sects, which have attempted
to gain an ascendant over them.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 24/50 mp. 123 gp. 184
The third observation, which I shall form on this head, of the rise and progress
of the arts and sciences, is, That though the only proper Nursery of these noble
plants be a free state; yet may they be transplanted into any government; and
that a republic is most favourable to the growth of the sciences, a civilized
monarchy to that of the polite arts.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 25/50 mp. 124 gp. 185
To balance a large state or society, whether monarchical or republican, on
general laws, is a work of so great difficulty, that no human genius, however
comprehensive, is able, by the mere dint of reason and reflection, to effect it.
The judgments of many must unite in this work: Experience must guide their
labour: Time must bring it to perfection: And the feeling of inconveniencies
must correct the mistakes, which they inevitably fall into, in their first
trials and experiments. Hence appears the impossibility, that this undertaking
should be begun and carried on in any monarchy; since such a form of government,
ere civilized, knows no other secret or policy, than that of entrusting
unlimited powers to every governor or magistrate, and subdividing the people
into so many classes and orders of slavery. From such a situation, no
improvement can ever be expected in the sciences, in the liberal arts, in laws,
and scarcely in the manual arts and manufactures. The same barbarism and
ignorance, with which the government commences, is propagated to all posterity,
and can never come to a period by the efforts or ingenuity of such unhappy
slaves.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 26/50 mp. 124 gp. 185
But though law, the source of all security and happiness, arises late in any
government, and is the slow product of order and of liberty, it is not preserved
with the same difficulty, with which it is produced; but when it has once taken
root, is a hardy plant, which will scarcely ever perish through the ill culture
of men, or the rigour of the seasons. The arts of luxury, and much more the
liberal arts, which depend on a refined taste or sentiment, are easily lost;
because they are always relished by a few only, whose leisure, fortune, and
genius fit them for such amusements. But what is profitable to every mortal, and
in common life, when once discovered, can scarcely fall into oblivion, but by
the total subversion of society, and by such furious inundations of barbarous
invaders, as obliterate all memory of former arts and civility. Imitation also
is apt to transport these coarser and more useful arts from one climate to
another, and make them precede the refined arts in their progress; though
perhaps they sprang after them in their first rise and propagation. From these
causes proceed civilized monarchies; where the arts of government, first
invented in free states, are preserved to the mutual advantage and security of
sovereign and subject.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 27/50 mp. 125 gp. 186
However perfect, therefore, the monarchical form may appear to some politicians,
it owes all its perfection to the republican; nor is it possible, that a pure
despotism, established among a barbarous people, can ever, by its native force
and energy, refine and polish itself. It must borrow its laws, and methods, and
institutions, and consequently its stability and order, from free governments.
These advantages are the sole growth of republics. The extensive despotism of a
barbarous monarchy, by entering into the detail of the government, as well as
into the principal points of administration, for ever prevents all such
improvements.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 28/50 mp. 125 gp. 186
In a civilized monarchy, the prince alone is unrestrained in the exercise of his
authority, and possesses alone a power, which is not bounded by any thing but
custom, example, and the sense of his own interest. Every minister or
magistrate, however eminent, must submit to the general laws, which govern the
whole society, and must exert the authority delegated to him after the manner,
which is prescribed. The people depend on none but their sovereign, for the
security of their property. He is so far removed from them, and is so much
exempt from private jealousies or interests, that this dependence is scarcely
felt. And thus a species of government arises, to which, in a high political
rant, we may give the name of Tyranny, but which, by a just and prudent
administration, may afford tolerable security to the people, and may answer most
of the ends of political society.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 29/50 mp. 125 gp. 186
But though in a civilized monarchy, as well as in a republic, the people have
security for the enjoyment of their property; yet in both these forms of
government, those who possess the supreme authority have the disposal of many
honours and advantages, which excite the ambition and avarice of mankind. The
only difference is, that, in a republic, the candidates for office must look
downwards, to gain the suffrages of the people; in a monarchy, they must turn
their attention upwards, to court the good graces and favour of the great. To be
successful in the former way, it is necessary for a man to make himself useful,
by his industry, capacity, or knowledge: To be prosperous in the latter way, it
is requisite for him to render himself agreeable, by his wit, complaisance, or
civility. A strong genius succeeds best in republics: A refined taste in
monarchies. And consequently the sciences are the more natural growth of the
one, and the polite arts of the other.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 30/50 mp. 126 gp. 187
Not to mention, that monarchies, receiving their chief stability from a
superstitious reverence to priests and princes, have commonly abridged the
liberty of reasoning, with regard to religion, and politics, and consequently
metaphysics and morals. All these form the most considerable branches of
science. Mathematics and natural philosophy, which only remain, are not half so
valuable.†e
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 31/50 mp. 126 gp. 187
Among the arts of conversation, no one pleases more than mutual deference or
civility, which leads us to resign our own inclinations to those of our
companion, and to curb and conceal that presumption and arrogance, so natural to
the human mind. A good-natured man, who is well educated, practises this
civility to every mortal, without premeditation or interest. But in order to
render that valuable quality general among any people, it seems necessary to
assist the natural disposition by some general motive. Where power rises upwards
from the people to the great, as in all republics, such refinements of civility
are apt to be little practised; since the whole state is, by that means, brought
near to a level, and every member of it is rendered, in a great measure,
independent of another. The people have the advantage, by the authority of their
suffrages: The great, by the superiority of their station. But in a civilized
monarchy, there is a long train of dependence from the prince to the peasant,
which is not great enough to render property precarious, or depress the minds of
the people; but is sufficient to beget in every one an inclination to please his
superiors, and to form himself upon those models, which are most acceptable to
people of condition and education. Politeness of manners, therefore, arises most
naturally in monarchies and courts; and where that flourishes, none of the
liberal arts will be altogether neglected or despised.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 32/50 mp. 127 gp. 187
The republics in EUROPE are at present noted for want of politeness. The
good-manners of a SWISS civilized in HOLLAND,†4 is an expression for rusticity
among the FRENCH. The ENGLISH, in some degree, fall under the same censure,
notwithstanding their learning and genius. And if the VENETIANS be an exception
to the rule, they owe it, perhaps, to their communication with the other
ITALIANS, most of whose governments beget a dependence more than sufficient for
civilizing their manners.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 33/50 mp. 127 gp. 188
It is difficult to pronounce any judgment concerning the refinements of the
ancient republics in this particular: But I am apt to suspect, that the arts of
conversation were not brought so near to perfection among them as the arts of
writing and composition. The scurrility of the ancient orators, in many
instances, is quite shocking, and exceeds all belief. Vanity too is often not a
little offensive in authors of those ages;†5 as well as the common
licentiousness and immodesty of their stile, Quicunque impudicus, adulter,
ganeo, manu, ventre, pene, bona patria laceraverat, says SALLUST in one of the
gravest and most moral passages of his history. Nam fuit ante Helenam Cunnus
teterrima belli Causa, is an expression of HORACE, in tracing the origin of
moral good and evil. OVID and LUCRETIUS†6 are almost as licentious in their
stile as Lord ROCHESTER; though the former were fine gentlemen and delicate
writers, and the latter,†g from the corruptions of that court, in which he
lived, seems to have thrown off all regard to shame and decency. JUVENAL
inculcates modesty with great zeal; but sets a very bad example of it, if we
consider the impudence of his expressions.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 34/50 mp. 128 gp. 188
I shall also be bold to affirm, that among the ancients, there was not much
delicacy of breeding, or that polite deference and respect, which civility
obliges us either to express or counterfeit towards the persons with whom we
converse. CICERO was certainly one of the finest gentlemen of his age; yet I
must confess I have frequently been shocked with the poor figure under which he
represents his friend ATTICUS, in those dialogues, where he himself is
introduced as a speaker. That learned and virtuous ROMAN, whose dignity, though
he was only a private gentleman, was inferior to that of no one in ROME, is
there shewn in rather a more pitiful light than PHILALETHES'S friend in our
modern dialogues. He is a humble admirer of the orator, pays him frequent
compliments, and receives his instructions, with all the deference which a
scholar owes to his master.†7 Even CATO is treated in somewhat of a cavalier
manner in the dialogues de finibus.†h
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 35/50 mp. 129 gp. 189
†i One of the most particular details of a real dialogue, which we meet with in
antiquity, is related by POLYBIUS;†8 when PHILIP, king of MACEDON, a prince of
wit and parts, met with TITUS FLAMININUS, one of the politest of the ROMANS, as
we learn from PLUTARCH,†9 accompanied with ambassadors from almost all the GREEK
cities. The AETOLIAN ambassador very abruptly tells the king, that he talked
like a fool or a madman ({lerein}). That's evident, says his majesty, even to a
blind man; which was a raillery on the blindness of his excellency. Yet all this
did not pass the usual bounds: For the conference was not disturbed; and
FLAMININUS was very well diverted with these strokes of humour. At the end, when
PHILIP craved a little time to consult with his friends, of whom he had none
present, the ROMAN general, being desirous also to shew his wit, as the
historian says, tells him, that perhaps the reason, why he had none of his
friends with him, was because he had murdered them all; which was actually the
case. This unprovoked piece of rusticity is not condemned by the historian;
caused no farther resentment in PHILIP, than to excite a SARDONIAN smile, or
what we call a grin; and hindered him not from renewing the conference next day.
PLUTARCH†10 too mentions this raillery amongst the witty and agreeable sayings
of FLAMININUS.†j
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 36/50 mp. 130 gp. 191
Cardinal WOLSEY apologized for his famous piece of insolence, in saying, EGO ET
REX MEUS, I and my king, by observing, that this expression was conformable to
the Latin idiom, and that a ROMAN always named himself before the person to
whom, or of whom he spake. Yet this seems to have been an instance of want of
civility among that people. The ancients made it a rule, that the person of the
greatest dignity should be mentioned first in the discourse; insomuch, that we
find the spring of a quarrel and jealousy between the ROMANS and AETOLIANS, to
have been a poet's naming the AETOLIANS before the ROMANS, in celebrating a
victory gained by their united arms over the MACEDONIANS.†11†k Thus LIVIA
disgusted TIBERIUS by placing her own name before his in an inscription.†12
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 37/50 mp. 130 gp. 191
No advantages in this world are pure and unmixed. In like manner, as modern
politeness, which is naturally so ornamental, runs often into affectation and
foppery, disguise and insincerity; so the ancient simplicity, which is naturally
so amiable and affecting, often degenerates into rusticity and abuse, scurrility
and obscenity.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 38/50 mp. 131 gp. 191
If the superiority in politeness should be allowed to modern times, the modern
notions of gallantry, the natural produce of courts and monarchies, will
probably be assigned as the causes of this refinement. No one denies this
invention to be modern:†13 But some of the more zealous partizans of the
ancients, have asserted it to be foppish and ridiculous, and a reproach, rather
than a credit, to the present age.†14 It may here be proper to examine this
question.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 39/50 mp. 131 gp. 191
Nature has implanted in all living creatures an affection between the sexes,
which, even in the fiercest and most rapacious animals, is not merely confined
to the satisfaction of the bodily appetite, but begets a friendship and mutual
sympathy, which runs through the whole tenor of their lives. Nay, even in those
species, where nature limits the indulgence of this appetite to one season and
to one object, and forms a kind of marriage or association between a single male
and female, there is yet a visible complacency and benevolence, which extends
farther, and mutually softens the affections of the sexes towards each other.†l
How much more must this have place in man, where the confinement of the appetite
is not natural; but either is derived accidentally from some strong charm of
love, or arises from reflections on duty and convenience? Nothing, therefore,
can proceed less from affectation than the passion of gallantry. It is natural
in the highest degree. Art and education, in the most elegant courts, make no
more alteration on it, than on all the other laudable passions. They only turn
the mind more towards it; they refine it; they polish it; and give it a proper
grace and expression.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 40/50 mp. 132 gp. 192
But gallantry is as generous as it is natural. To correct such gross vices, as
lead us to commit real injury on others, is the part of morals, and the object
of the most ordinary education. Where that is not attended to, in some degree,
no human society can subsist. But in order to render conversation, and the
intercourse of minds more easy and agreeable, good-manners have been invented,
and have carried the matter somewhat farther. Wherever nature has given the mind
a propensity to any vice, or to any passion disagreeable to others, refined
breeding has taught men to throw the biass on the opposite side, and to
preserve, in all their behaviour, the appearance of sentiments different from
those to which they naturally incline. Thus, as we are commonly proud and
selfish, and apt to assume the preference above others, a polite man learns to
behave with deference towards his companions, and to yield the superiority to
them in all the common incidents of society. In like manner, wherever a person's
situation may naturally beget any disagreeable suspicion in him, it is the part
of good-manners to prevent it, by a studied display of sentiments, directly
contrary to those of which he is apt to be jealous. Thus, old men know their
infirmities, and naturally dread contempt from the youth: Hence, well-educated
youth redouble the instances of respect and deference to their elders. Strangers
and foreigners are without protection: Hence, in all polite countries, they
receive the highest civilities, and are entitled to the first place in every
company. A man is lord in his own family, and his guests are, in a manner,
subject to his authority: Hence, he is always the lowest person in the company;
attentive to the wants of every one; and giving himself all the trouble, in
order to please, which may not betray too visible an affectation, or impose too
much constraint on his guests.†15 Gallantry is nothing but an instance of the
same generous attention. As nature has given man the superiority above woman, by
endowing him with greater strength both of mind and body; it is his part to
alleviate that superiority, as much as possible, by the generosity of his
behaviour, and by a studied deference and complaisance for all her inclinations
and opinions. Barbarous nations display this superiority, by reducing their
females to the most abject slavery; by confining them, by beating them, by
selling them, by killing them. But the male sex, among a polite people, discover
their authority in a more generous, though not a less evident manner; by
civility, by respect, by complaisance, and, in a word, by gallantry. In good
company, you need not ask, Who is the master of the feast? The man, who sits in
the lowest place, and who is always industrious in helping every one, is
certainly the person. We must either condemn all such instances of generosity,
as foppish and affected, or admit of gallantry among the rest. The ancient
MUSCOVITES wedded their wives with a whip, instead of a ring. The same people,
in their own houses, took always the precedency above foreigners, even†16
foreign ambassadors. These two instances of their generosity and politeness are
much of a piece.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 41/50 mp. 133 gp. 193
Gallantry is not less compatible with wisdom and prudence, than with nature and
generosity; and when under proper regulations, contributes more than any other
invention, to the entertainment and improvement of the youth of both sexes.†m
Among every species of animals, nature has founded on the love between the sexes
their sweetest and best enjoyment. But the satisfaction of the bodily appetite
is not alone sufficient to gratify the mind; and even among brute-creatures, we
find, that their play and dalliance, and other expressions of fondness, form the
greatest part of the entertainment. In rational beings, we must certainly admit
the mind for a considerable share. Were we to rob the feast of all its garniture
of reason, discourse, sympathy, friendship, and gaiety, what remains would
scarcely be worth acceptance, in the judgment of the truly elegant and
luxurious.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 42/50 mp. 134 gp. 194
What better school for manners, than the company of virtuous women; where the
mutual endeavour to please must insensibly polish the mind, where the example of
the female softness and modesty must communicate itself to their admirers, and
where the delicacy of that sex puts every one on his guard, lest he give offence
by any breach of decency.†n
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 43/50 mp. 134 gp. 194
Among the ancients, the character of the fair-sex was considered as altogether
domestic; nor were they regarded as part of the polite world or of good company.
This, perhaps, is the true reason why the ancients have not left us one piece of
pleasantry that is excellent, (unless one may except the Banquet of XENOPHON,
and the Dialogues of LUCIAN) though many of their serious compositions are
altogether inimitable. HORACE condemns the coarse railleries and cold jests of
PLAUTUS: But, though the most easy, agreeable, and judicious writer in the
world, is his own talent for ridicule very striking or refined? This, therefore,
is one considerable improvement, which the polite arts have received from
gallantry, and from courts, where it first arose.†o
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 44/50 mp. 134 gp. 195
But, to return from this digression, I shall advance it as a fourth observation
on this subject, of the rise and progress of the arts and sciences, That when
the arts and sciences come to perfection in any state, from that moment they
naturally, or rather necessarily decline, and seldom or never revive in that
nation, where they formerly flourished.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 45/50 mp. 135 gp. 195
It must be confessed, that this maxim, though conformable to experience, may, at
first sight, be esteemed contrary to reason. If the natural genius of mankind be
the same in all ages, and in almost all countries, (as seems to be the truth) it
must very much forward and cultivate this genius, to be possessed of patterns in
every art, which may regulate the taste, and fix the objects of imitation. The
models left us by the ancients gave birth to all the arts about 200 years ago,
and have mightily advanced their progress in every country of EUROPE: Why had
they not a like effect during the reign of TRAJAN and his successors; when they
were much more entire, and were still admired and studied by the whole world? So
late as the emperor JUSTINIAN, the POET, by way of distinction, was understood,
among the GREEKS, to be HOMER; among the ROMANS, VIRGIL. Such admiration still
remained for these divine geniuses; though no poet had appeared for many
centuries, who could justly pretend to have imitated them.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 46/50 mp. 135 gp. 195
A man's genius is always, in the beginning of life, as much unknown to himself
as to others; and it is only after frequent trials, attended with success, that
he dares think himself equal to those undertakings, in which those, who have
succeeded, have fixed the admiration of mankind. If his own nation be already
possessed of many models of eloquence, he naturally compares his own juvenile
exercises with these; and being sensible of the great disproportion, is
discouraged from any farther attempts, and never aims at a rivalship with those
authors, whom he so much admires. A noble emulation is the source of every
excellence. Admiration and modesty naturally extinguish this emulation. And no
one is so liable to an excess of admiration and modesty, as a truly great
genius.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 47/50 mp. 136 gp. 196
Next to emulation, the greatest encourager of the noble arts is praise and
glory. A writer is animated with new force, when he hears the applauses of the
world for his former productions; and, being roused by such a motive, he often
reaches a pitch of perfection, which is equally surprizing to himself and to his
readers. But when the posts of honour are all occupied, his first attempts are
but coldly received by the public; being compared to productions, which are both
in themselves more excellent, and have already the advantage of an established
reputation. Were MOLIERE and CORNEILLE to bring upon the stage at present their
early productions, which were formerly so well received, it would discourage the
young poets, to see the indifference and disdain of the public. The ignorance of
the age alone could have given admission to the Prince of TYRE; but it is to
that we owe the Moor: Had Every man in his humour been rejected, we had never
seen VOLPONE.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 48/50 mp. 136 gp. 196
Perhaps, it may not be for the advantage of any nation to have the arts imported
from their neighbours in too great perfection. This extinguishes emulation, and
sinks the ardour of the generous youth. So many models of ITALIAN painting
brought into ENGLAND, instead of exciting our artists, is the cause of their
small progress in that noble art. The same, perhaps, was the case of ROME, when
it received the arts from GREECE. That multitude of polite productions in the
FRENCH language, dispersed all over GERMANY and the NORTH, hinder these nations
from cultivating their own language, and keep them still dependent on their
neighbours for those elegant entertainments.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 49/50 mp. 136 gp. 196
It is true, the ancients had left us models in every kind of writing, which are
highly worthy of admiration. But besides that they were written in languages,
known only to the learned; besides this, I say, the comparison is not so perfect
or entire between modern wits, and those who lived in so remote an age. Had
WALLER been born in ROME, during the reign of TIBERIUS, his first productions
had been despised, when compared to the finished odes of HORACE. But in this
island the superiority of the ROMAN poet diminished nothing from the fame of the
ENGLISH. We esteemed ourselves sufficiently happy, that our climate and language
could produce but a faint copy of so excellent an original.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Para. 50/50 mp. 137 gp. 197
In short, the arts and sciences, like some plants, require a fresh soil; and
however rich the land may be, and however you may recruit it by art or care, it
will never, when once exhausted, produce any thing that is perfect or finished
in the kind.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 1 mp. 114 gp. 177
†1 Est Deus in nobis; agitante calescimus illo:
Impetus hic, sacrae semina mentis habet.
OVID, Fast. lib. vi. 5.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 2 mp. 117 gp. 179
†2 TACIT. hist. lib. i. 37.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 3 mp. 122 gp. 183
†3 If it be asked how we can reconcile to the foregoing principles the
happiness, riches, and good police of the CHINESE, who have always been governed
by a monarch, and can scarcely form an idea of a free government; I would
answer, that though the CHINESE government be a pure monarchy, it is not,
properly speaking, absolute. This proceeds from a peculiarity in the situation
of that country: They have no neighbours, except the TARTARS, from whom they
were, in some measure, secured, at least seemed to be secured, by their famous
wall, and by the great superiority of their numbers. By this means, military
discipline has always been much neglected amongst them; and their standing
forces are mere militia, of the worst kind; and unfit to suppress any general
insurrection in countries so extremely populous. The sword, therefore, may
properly be said to be always in the hands of the people, which is a sufficient
restraint upon the monarch, and obliges him to lay his mandarins or governors of
provinces under the restraint of general laws, in order to prevent those
rebellions, which we learn from history to have been so frequent and dangerous
in that government. Perhaps, a pure monarchy of this kind, were it fitted for
defence against foreign enemies, would be the best of all governments, as having
both the tranquillity attending kingly power, and the moderation and liberty of
popular assemblies.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 4 mp. 127 gp. 187
†4 C'est la politesse d'un Suisse
En HOLLANDE civilise.
ROUSSEAU.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 5 mp. 127 gp. 188
†5 It is needless to cite CICERO or PLINY on this head: They are too much noted:
But one is a little surprised to find ARRIAN, a very grave, judicious writer,
interrupt the thread of his narration all of a sudden, to tell his readers that
he himself is as eminent among the GREEKS for eloquence as ALEXANDER was for
arms. Lib. i. 12.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 6 mp. 128 gp. 188
†6 This poet (See lib. iv. 1175.) recommends a very extraordinary cure for love,
and what one expects not to meet with in so elegant and philosophical a poem. It
seems to have been the original of some of Dr. SWIFT'S†f images. The elegant
CATULLUS and PHAEDRUS fall under the same censure.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 7 mp. 129 gp. 189
†7 ATT. Non mihi videtur ad beate vivendum satis esse virtutem. MAR. At hercule
BRUTO meo videtur; cujus ego judicium, pace tua dixerim, longe antepono tuo.
Tusc. Quaest. lib. v. 5.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 8 mp. 129 gp. 189
†8 Lib. xvii. 4.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 9 mp. 129 gp. 189
†9 In vita FLAMIN., c. 2.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 10 mp. 130 gp. 190
†10 PLUT. in vita FLAMIN. c. 17.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 11 mp. 130 gp. 191
†11 PLUT. in vita FLAMIN. c. 9.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 12 mp. 130 gp. 191
†12 TACIT. Ann. lib. iii. cap. 64.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 13 mp. 131 gp. 191
†13 In the Self-Tormentor of TERENCE, CLINIAS, whenever he comes to town,
instead of waiting on his mistress, sends for her to come to him.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 14 mp. 131 gp. 191
†14 LORD SHAFTESBURY, see his Moralists.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 15 mp. 132 gp. 193
†15 The frequent mention in ancient authors of that ill-bred custom of the
master of the family's eating better bread or drinking better wine at table,
than he afforded his guests, is but an indifferent mark of the civility of those
ages. See JUVENAL, sat. 5. PLINII lib. xiv. cap. 13. Also PLINII Epist. Lucian
de mercede conductis, Saturnalia &c. There is scarcely any part Of EUROPE at
present so uncivilized as to admit of such a custom.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Foot. 16 mp. 133 gp. 193
†16 See Relation of three Embassies, by the Earl of CARLISLE.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. a mp. 623 gp. 177
†a Editions C to P add: I shall therefore proceed to deliver a few observations
on this subject, which I submit to the censure and examination of the learned.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. b mp. 623 gp. 180
†b Editions C to P add: According to the necessary progress of things, law must
precede science. In republics law may precede science, and may arise from the
very nature of the government. In monarchies it arises not from the nature of
the government, and cannot precede science. An absolute prince, who is
barbarous, renders all his ministers and magistrates as absolute as himself: And
there needs no more to prevent, for ever, all industry, curiosity, and science.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. c mp. 623 gp. 181
†c Editions C to K add the following: Antigonus, being complimented by his
flatterers, as a deity, and as the son of that glorious planet, which
illuminates the universe, Upon that head, says he, you may consult the person
that empties my close stool.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. d mp. 623 gp. 182
†d Or . . . resemblance: omitted in C and D.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. e mp. 623 gp. 187
†e Editions C to P: There is a very great connection among all the arts, which
contribute to pleasure; and the same delicacy of taste, which enables us to make
improvements in one, will not allow the others to remain altogether rude and
barbarous.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. f mp. 623 gp. 188
†f C to P insert: beautiful and cleanly.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. g mp. 623 gp. 188
†g Editions C and D read: was an abandon'd and shameless Profligate.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. h mp. 623 gp. 189
†h Editions C to P add the following: And 'tis remarkable, that CICERO, being a
great sceptic in matters of religion, and unwilling to determine any thing on
that head among the different sects of philosophy, introduces his friends
disputing concerning the being and nature of the gods, while he is only a
hearer; because, forsooth, it would have been an impropriety for so great a
genius as himself, had he spoke, not to have said something decisive on the
subject, and have carried every thing before him, as he always does on other
occasions. There is also a spirit of dialogue observed in the eloquent books de
Oratore, and a tolerable equality maintained among the speakers: But then these
speakers are the great men of the age preceding the author, and he recounts the
conference as only from hearsay.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. i mp. 623 gp. 189
†i This paragraph is not found in Editions C and D.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. j mp. 624 gp. 190
†j Editions C to P insert: 'Tis but an indifferent compliment, which HORACE pays
to his friend GROSPHUS, in the ode addressed to him. No one, says he, is happy
in every respect. And I may perhaps enjoy some advantages, which you are
deprived of. You possess great riches: Your bellowing herds cover the SICILIAN
plains. Your chariot is drawn by the finest horses: And you are arrayed in the
richest purple. But the indulgent fates, with a small inheritance, have given ME
a fine genius, and have endowed me with a contempt for the malignant judgments
of the vulgar.†1 PHAEDRUS says to his patron, EUTYCHUS, If you intend to read my
works, I shall be pleased: If not, I shall, at least, have the advantage of
pleasing posterity.†2 I am apt to think that a modern poet would not have been
guilty of such an impropriety as that which may be observed in VIRGIL'S address
to AUGUSTUS, when, after a great deal of extravagant flattery, and after having
deified the emperor, according to the custom of those times, he, at last, places
this god on the same level with himself. By your gracious nod, says he, render
my undertaking prosperous; and taking pity, together with me, of the Swains
ignorant of husbandry, bestow your favourable influence on this work.†3 Had men,
in that age, been accustomed to observe such niceties, a writer so delicate as
VIRGIL would certainly have given a different turn to this sentence. The court
of AUGUSTUS, however polite, had not yet, it seems, worn off the manners of the
republic.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. j Foot. 1 mp. 624 gp. 190
†1---Nihil est ab omni
Parte beatum.
Abstulit clarum cita mors ACHILLEM,
Longa TITHONUM minuit senectus,
Et mihi forsan, tibi quod negarit,
Porriget hora.
Te greges centum, Siculaeque circum
Mugiunt vaccae: tibi tollit, hinni-
Tum apta quadrigis equa: te bis Afro
Murice tinctae
Vestiunt lanae: mihi parva rura, &
Spiritum Graiae tenuem Camonae
Parca non mendax dedit & malignum
Spernere vulgus.
Lib. 2. Ode 16.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. j Foot. 2 mp. 624 gp. 190
†2 Quem si leges, laetabor; sin autem minus,
Habebunt certe quo se oblectent posteri.
Lib. 3. Prol. 31.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. j Foot. 3 Para. 1/4 mp. 624 gp. 190
†3 Ignarosque viae mecum miseratus agrestes
Ingredere, & votis jam nunc assuesce vocari.
Georg. Lib. 1, 41.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. j Foot. 3 Para. 2/4 mp. 625 gp. 190
One would not say to a prince or great man, "When you and I were in such a
place, we saw such a thing happen." But, "When you were in such a place, I
attended you: And such a thing happened."
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. j Foot. 3 Para. 3/4 mp. 625 gp. 190
Here I cannot forbear mentioning a piece of delicacy observed in FRANCE, which
seems to me excessive and ridiculous. You must not say, "That is a very fine
dog, Madam." But, "Madam, that is a very fine dog." They think it indecent that
those words, dog and madam, should be coupled together in the sentence; though
they have no reference to each other in the sense.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. j Foot. 3 Para. 4/4 mp. 625 gp. 190
After all, I acknowledge, that this reasoning from single passages of ancient
authors may seem fallacious; and that the foregoing arguments cannot have great
force, but with those who are well acquainted with these writers, and know the
truth of the general position. For instance, what absurdity would it be to
assert, that VIRGIL understood not the force of the terms he employs, and could
not chuse his epithets with propriety? Because in the following lines, addressed
also to AUGUSTUS, he has failed in that particular, and has ascribed to the
INDIANS a quality, which seems, in a manner, to turn his hero into ridicule.
----Et te, maxime CAESAR,
Qui nunc extremis ASIAE jam victor in oris
Imbellem avertis ROMANIS arcibus Indum.
Georg. Lib. 2. 171.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. k mp. 625 gp. 191
†k This sentence and the paragraph next following were added in Edition K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. l mp. 625 gp. 192
†l Editions C to P add the following quotation:
Tutti gli altri animai che sono in terra,
O che vivon quieti & stanno in pace;
O se vengon a rissa, & si fan guerra,
A la femina il maschio non la face.
L'orsa con l'orso al bosco sicura erra,
La Leonessa appresso il Leon giace,
Con Lupo vive il Lupa sicura,
Ne la Giuvenca ha del Torel paura.
ARIOSTO, Canto 5.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. m mp. 626 gp. 193
†m Editions C to P read: In all vegetables 'tis observable, that the flower and
the seed are always connected together; and in like manner, among every species,
&c.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. n mp. 626 gp. 194
†n C to O add: I must confess, That my own particular choice rather leads me to
prefer the company of a few select companions, with whom I can, calmly and
peaceably, enjoy the feast of reason, and try the justness of every reflection,
whether gay or serious, that may occur to me. But as such a delightful society
is not every day to be met with, I must think, that mixt companies, without the
fair-sex, are the most insipid entertainment in the world, and destitute of
gaiety and politeness, as much as of sense and reason. Nothing can keep them
from excessive dulness but hard drinking; a remedy worse than the disease.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. o Para. 1/2 mp. 626 gp. 194
†o Editions C to P insert the following: The point of honour, or duelling, is a
modern invention, as well as gallantry; and by some esteemed equally useful for
the refining of manners: But how it has contributed to that effect, I am at a
loss to determine. Conversation, among the greatest rustics, is not commonly
invested with such rudeness as can give occasion to duels, even according to the
most refined laws of this fantastic honour; and as to the other small
indecencies, which are the most offensive, because the most frequent, they can
never be cured by the practice of duelling. But these notions are not only
useless: They are also pernicious. By separating the man of honour from the man
of virtue, the greatest profligates have got something to value themselves upon,
and have been able to keep themselves in countenance, tho' guilty of the most
shameful and most dangerous vices. They are debauchees, spendthrifts, and never
pay a farthing they owe: But they are men of honour; and therefore are to be
received as gentlemen in all companies.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 14 Var. o Para. 2/2 mp. 626 gp. 195
There are some of the parts of modern honour, which are the most essential parts
of morality; such as fidelity, the observing promises, and telling truth. These
points of honour Mr. ADDISON had in his eye when he made JUBA say,
Honour's a sacred tye, the law of kings,
The noble mind's distinguishing perfection,
That aids and strengthens virtue when it meets her,
And imitates her actions where she is not:
It ought not to be sported with.
These lines are very beautiful: But I am afraid, that Mr. ADDISON has here been
guilty of that impropriety of sentiment, with which on other occasions, he has
so justly reproached our poets. The ancients certainly never had any notion of
honour as distinct from virtue.
Essay 15. THE EPICUREAN
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 1/16 mp. 138 gp. 197
ESSAY XV: THE EPICUREAN†1
It is a great mortification to the vanity of man, that his utmost art and
industry can never equal the meanest of nature's productions, either for beauty
or value. Art is only the under-workman, and is employed to give a few strokes
of embellishment to those pieces, which come from the hand of the master. Some
of the drapery may be of his drawing; but he is not allowed to touch the
principal figure. Art may make a suit of clothes: But nature must produce a man.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 2/16 mp. 139 gp. 197
Even in those productions, commonly denominated works of art, we find that the
noblest of the kind are beholden for their chief beauty to the force and happy
influence of nature. To the†a native enthusiasm of the poets, we owe whatever is
admirable in their productions. The greatest genius, where nature at any time
fails him, (for she is not equal) throws aside the lyre, and hopes not, from the
rules of art, to reach that divine harmony, which must proceed from her
inspiration alone. How poor are those songs, where a happy flow of fancy has not
furnished materials for art to embellish and refine!
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 3/16 mp. 139 gp. 197
But of all the fruitless attempts of art, no one is so ridiculous, as that which
the severe philosophers have undertaken, the producing of an artificial
happiness, and making us be pleased by rules of reason, and by reflection. Why
did none of them claim the reward, which XERXES promised to him, who should
invent a new pleasure? Unless, perhaps, they invented so many pleasures for
their own use, that they despised riches, and stood in no need of any
enjoyments, which the rewards of that monarch could procure them. I am apt,
indeed, to think, that they were not willing to furnish the PERSIAN court with a
new pleasure, by presenting it with so new and unusual an object of ridicule.
Their speculations, when confined to theory, and gravely delivered in the
schools of GREECE, might excite admiration in their ignorant pupils: But the
attempting to reduce such principles to practice would soon have betrayed their
absurdity.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 4/16 mp. 139 gp. 198
You pretend to make me happy by reason, and by rules of art. You must, then,
create me anew by rules of art. For on my original frame and structure does my
happiness depend. But you want power to effect this; and skill too, I am afraid:
Nor can I entertain a less opinion of nature's wisdom than of yours. And let her
conduct the machine, which she has so wisely framed. I find, that I should only
spoil it by my tampering.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 5/16 mp. 139 gp. 198
To what purpose should I pretend to regulate, refine, or invigorate any of those
springs or principles, which nature has implanted in me? Is this the road by
which I must reach happiness? But happiness implies ease, contentment, repose,
and pleasure; not watchfulness, care, and fatigue. The health of my body
consists in the facility, with which all its operations are performed. The
stomach digests the aliments: The heart circulates the blood: The brain
separates and refines the spirits: And all this without my concerning myself in
the matter. When by my will alone I can stop the blood, as it runs with
impetuosity along its canals, then may I hope to change the course of my
sentiments and passions. In vain should I strain my faculties, and endeavour to
receive pleasure from an object, which is not fitted by nature to affect my
organs with delight. I may give myself pain by my fruitless endeavours; but
shall never reach any pleasure.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 6/16 mp. 140 gp. 198
Away then with all those vain pretences of making ourselves happy within
ourselves, of feasting on our own thoughts, of being satisfied with the
consciousness of well-doing, and of despising all assistance and all supplies
from external objects. This is the voice of PRIDE, not of NATURE. And it were
well, if even this pride could support itself, and communicate a real inward
pleasure, however melancholy or severe. But this impotent pride can do no more
than regulate the outside; and with infinite pains and attention compose the
language and countenance to a philosophical dignity, in order to deceive the
ignorant vulgar. The heart, mean while, is empty of all enjoyment: And the mind,
unsupported by its proper objects, sinks into the deepest sorrow and dejection.
Miserable, but vain mortal! Thy mind be happy within itself! With what resources
is it endowed to fill so immense a void, and supply the place of all thy bodily
senses and faculties? Can thy head subsist without thy other members? In such a
situation,
What foolish figure must it make?
Do nothing else but sleep and ake.
Into such a lethargy, or such a melancholy, must thy mind be plunged, when
deprived of foreign occupations and enjoyments.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 7/16 mp. 141 gp. 199
Keep me, therefore, no longer in this violent constraint. Confine me not within
myself; but point out to me those objects and pleasures, which afford the chief
enjoyment. But why do I apply to you, proud and ignorant sages, to shew me the
road to happiness? Let me consult my own passions and inclinations. In them must
I read the dictates of nature; not in your frivolous discourses.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 8/16 mp. 141 gp. 199
But see, propitious to my wishes, the divine, the amiable PLEASURE,†2 the
supreme love of GODS and men, advances towards me. At her approach, my heart
beats with genial heat, and every sense and every faculty is dissolved in joy;
while she pours around me all the embellishments of the spring, and all the
treasures of the autumn. The melody of her voice charms my ears with the softest
music, as she invites me to partake of those delicious fruits, which, with a
smile that diffuses a glory on the heavens and the earth, she presents to me.
The sportive CUPIDS, who attend her, or fan me with their odoriferous wings, or
pour on my head the most fragrant oils, or offer me their sparkling nectar in
golden goblets. O! for ever let me spread my limbs on this bed of roses, and
thus, thus feel the delicious moments, with soft and downy steps, glide along.
But cruel chance! Whither do you fly so fast? Why do my ardent wishes, and that
load of pleasures, under which you labour, rather hasten than retard your
unrelenting pace? Suffer me to enjoy this soft repose, after all my fatigues in
search of happiness. Suffer me to satiate myself with these delicacies, after
the pains of so long and so foolish an abstinence.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 9/16 mp. 142 gp. 200
But it will not do. The roses have lost their hue: The fruit its flavour: And
that delicious wine, whose fumes, so late, intoxicated all my senses with such
delight, now solicits in vain the sated palate. Pleasure smiles at my languor.
She beckons her sister, Virtue, to come to her assistance. The gay, the frolic
Virtue observes the call, and brings along the whole troop of my jovial friends.
Welcome, thrice welcome, my ever dear companions, to these shady bowers, and to
this luxurious repast. Your presence has restored to the rose its hue, and to
the fruit its flavour. The vapours of this sprightly nectar now again play
around my heart; while you partake of my delights, and discover in your chearful
looks, the pleasure which you receive from my happiness and satisfaction. The
like do I receive from yours; and encouraged by your joyous presence, shall
again renew the feast, with which, from too much enjoyment, my senses were well
nigh sated; while the mind kept not pace with the body, nor afforded relief to
her o'er-burthened partner.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 10/16 mp. 142 gp. 200
In our chearful discourses, better than in the formal reasonings of the schools,
is true wisdom to be found. In our friendly endearments, better than in the
hollow debates of statesmen and pretended patriots, does true virtue display
itself. Forgetful of the past, secure of the future, let us here enjoy the
present; and while we yet possess a being, let us fix some good, beyond the
power of fate or fortune. To-morrow will bring its own pleasures along with it:
Or should it disappoint our fond wishes, we shall at least enjoy the pleasure of
reflecting on the pleasures of to-day.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 11/16 mp. 142 gp. 200
Fear not, my friends, that the barbarous dissonance of BACCHUS, and of his
revellers, should break in upon this entertainment, and confound us with their
turbulent and clamorous pleasures. The sprightly muses wait around; and with
their charming symphony, sufficient to soften the wolves and tygers of the
savage desert, inspire a soft joy into every bosom. Peace, harmony and concord
reign in this retreat; nor is the silence ever broken but by the music of our
songs, or the chearful accents of our friendly voices.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 12/16 mp. 143 gp. 201
But hark! the favourite of the muses, the gentle DAMON, strikes the lyre; and
while he accompanies its harmonious notes with his more harmonious song, he
inspires us with the same happy debauch of fancy, by which he is himself
transported. "Ye happy youth," he sings, "Ye favoured of heaven,†3 while the
wanton spring pours upon you all her blooming honours, let not glory seduce you,
with her delusive blaze, to pass in perils and dangers this delicious season,
this prime of life. Wisdom points out to you the road to pleasure: Nature too
beckons you to follow her in that smooth and flowery path. Will you shut your
ears to their commanding voice? Will you harden your heart to their soft
allurements? Oh, deluded mortals, thus to lose your youth, thus to throw away so
invaluable a present, to trifle with so perishing a blessing. Contemplate well
your recompence. Consider that glory, which so allures your proud hearts, and
seduces you with your own praises. It is an echo, a dream, nay the shadow of a
dream, dissipated by every wind, and lost by every contrary breath of the
ignorant and ill-judging multitude. You fear not that even death itself shall
ravish it from you. But behold! while you are yet alive, calumny bereaves you of
it; ignorance neglects it; nature enjoys it not; fancy alone, renouncing every
pleasure receives this airy recompence, empty and unstable as herself."
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 13/16 mp. 143 gp. 201
Thus the hours pass unperceived along, and lead in their wanton train all the
pleasures of sense, and all the joys of harmony and friendship. Smiling
innocence closes the procession; and while she presents herself to our ravished
eyes, she embellishes the whole scene, and renders the view of these pleasures
as transporting, after they have past us, as when, with laughing countenances,
they were yet advancing towards us.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 14/16 mp. 144 gp. 202
But the sun has sunk below the horizon; and darkness, stealing silently upon us,
has now buried all nature in an universal shade. "Rejoice, my friends, continue
your repast, or change it for soft repose. Though absent, your joy or your
tranquillity shall still be mine." But whither do you go? Or what new pleasures
call you from our society? Is there aught agreeable without your friends? And
can aught please, in which we partake not? "Yes, my friends; the joy which I now
seek, admits not of your participation. Here alone I wish your absence: And here
alone can I find a sufficient compensation for the loss of your society."
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 15/16 mp. 144 gp. 202
But I have not advanced far through the shades of the thick wood, which spreads
a double night around me, ere, methinks, I perceive through the gloom, the
charming CAELIA, the mistress of my wishes, who wanders impatient through the
grove, and preventing the appointed hour, silently chides my tardy steps. But
the joy, which she receives from my presence, best pleads my excuse; and
dissipating every anxious and every angry thought, leaves room for nought but
mutual joy and rapture. With what words, my fair one, shall I express my
tenderness, or describe the emotions which now warm my transported bosom! Words
are too faint to describe my love; and if, alas! you feel not the same flame
within you, in vain shall I endeavour to convey to you a just conception of it.
But your every word and every motion suffice to remove this doubt; and while
they express your passion, serve also to enflame mine. How amiable this
solitude, this silence, this darkness! No objects now importune the ravished
soul. The thought, the sense, all full of nothing but our mutual happiness,
wholly possess the mind, and convey a pleasure, which deluded mortals vainly
seek for in every other enjoyment.--
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Para. 16/16 mp. 144 gp. 202
But why†b does your bosom heave with these sighs, while tears bathe your glowing
cheeks? Why distract your heart with such vain anxieties? Why so often ask me,
How long my love shall yet endure? Alas, my CAELIA, can I resolve this question?
Do I know how long my life shall yet endure? But does this also disturb your
tender breast? And is the image of our frail mortality for ever present with
you, to throw a damp on your gayest hours, and poison even those joys which love
inspires? Consider rather, that if life be frail, if youth be transitory, we
should well employ the present moment, and lose no part of so perishable an
existence. Yet a little moment and these shall be no more. We shall be, as if we
had never been. Not a memory of us be left upon earth; and even the fabulous
shades below will not afford us a habitation. Our fruitless anxieties, our vain
projects, our uncertain speculations shall all be swallowed up and lost. Our
present doubts, concerning the original cause of all things, must never, alas!
be resolved. This alone we may be certain of, that, if any governing mind
preside, he must be pleased to see us fulfil the ends of our being, and enjoy
that pleasure, for which alone we were created. Let this reflection give ease to
your anxious thoughts; but render not your joys too serious, by dwelling for
ever upon it. It is sufficient, once, to be acquainted with this philosophy, in
order to give an unbounded loose to love and jollity, and remove all the
scruples of a vain superstition: But while youth and passion, my fair one,
prompt our eager desires, we must find gayer subjects of discourse, to intermix
with these amorous caresses.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Foot. 1 mp. 138 gp. 197
†1 Or, The man of elegance and pleasure. The intention of this and the three
following essays is not so much to explain accurately the sentiments of the
ancient sects of philosophy, as to deliver the sentiments of sects, that
naturally form themselves in the world, and entertain different ideas of human
life and of happiness. I have given each of them the name of the philosophical
sect, to which it bears the greatest affinity.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Foot. 2 mp. 141 gp. 199
†2 Dia Voluptas. LUCRET.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Foot. 3 mp. 143 gp. 201
†3 An imitation of the SYREN'S song in TASSO.
"O Giovinetti, mentre APRILE & MAGGIO
V' ammantan di fiorite & verde spoglie," &c.
Giuresalemme liberata, Canto 14.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Var. a mp. 627 gp. 197
†a Editions C to D: To the Oestrum or Verve. K to P: To the Oestrum or native
enthusiasm.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 15 Var. b mp. 627 gp. 202
†b Edition C: after our tumultuous joys.
Essay 16. THE STOIC
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 1/20 mp. 146 gp. 203
ESSAY XVI: THE STOIC†1
There is this obvious and material difference in the conduct of nature, with
regard to man and other animals, that, having endowed the former with a sublime
celestial spirit, and having given him an affinity with superior beings, she
allows not such noble faculties to lie lethargic or idle; but urges him, by
necessity, to employ, on every emergence, his utmost art and industry.
Brute-creatures have many of their necessities supplied by nature, being
cloathed and armed by this beneficent parent of all things: And where their own
industry is requisite on any occasion, nature, by implanting instincts, still
supplies them with the art, and guides them to their good, by her unerring
precepts. But man, exposed naked and indigent to the rude elements, rises slowly
from that helpless state, by the care and vigilance of his parents; and having
attained his utmost growth and perfection, reaches only a capacity of
subsisting, by his own care and vigilance. Every thing is sold to skill and
labour; and where nature furnishes the materials, they are still rude and
unfinished, till industry, ever active and intelligent, refines them from their
brute state, and fits them for human use and convenience.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 2/20 mp. 147 gp. 204
Acknowledge, therefore, O man, the beneficence of nature; for she has given thee
that intelligence which supplies all thy necessities. But let not indolence,
under the false appearance of gratitude, persuade thee to rest contented with
her presents. Wouldest thou return to the raw herbage for thy food, to the open
sky for thy covering, and to stones and clubs for thy defence against the
ravenous animals of the desert? Then return also to thy savage manners, to thy
timorous superstition, to thy brutal ignorance; and sink thyself below those
animals, whose condition thou admirest, and wouldest so fondly imitate.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 3/20 mp. 147 gp. 204
Thy kind parent, nature, having given thee art and intelligence, has filled the
whole globe with materials to employ these talents: Hearken to her voice, which
so plainly tells thee, that thou thyself shouldest also be the object of thy
industry, and that by art and attention alone thou canst acquire that ability,
which will raise thee to thy proper station in the universe. Behold this
artizan, who converts a rude and shapeless stone into a noble metal; and molding
that metal by his cunning hands, creates, as it were by magic, every weapon for
his defence, and every utensil for his convenience. He has not this skill from
nature: Use and practice have taught it him: And if thou wouldest emulate his
success, thou must follow his laborious foot-steps.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 4/20 mp. 147 gp. 204
But while thou ambitiously aspirest to perfecting thy bodily powers and
faculties, wouldest thou meanly neglect thy mind, and from a preposterous sloth,
leave it still rude and uncultivated, as it came from the hands of nature? Far
be such folly and negligence from every rational being. If nature has been
frugal in her gifts and endowments, there is the more need of art to supply her
defects. If she has been generous and liberal, know that she still expects
industry and application on our part, and revenges herself in proportion to our
negligent ingratitude. The richest genius, like the most fertile soil, when
uncultivated, shoots up into the rankest weeds; and instead of vines and olives
for the pleasure and use of man, produces, to its slothful owner, the most
abundant crop of poisons.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 5/20 mp. 148 gp. 205
The great end of all human industry, is the attainment of happiness. For this
were arts invented, sciences cultivated, laws ordained, and societies modelled,
by the most profound wisdom of patriots and legislators. Even the lonely savage,
who lies exposed to the inclemency of the elements, and the fury of wild beasts,
forgets not, for a moment, this grand object of his being. Ignorant as he is of
every art of life, he still keeps in view the end of all those arts, and eagerly
seeks for felicity amidst that darkness with which he is environed. But as much
as the wildest savage is inferior to the polished citizen, who, under the
protection of laws, enjoys every convenience which industry has invented; so
much is this citizen himself inferior to the man of virtue, and the true
philosopher, who governs his appetites, subdues his passions, and has learned,
from reason, to set a just value on every pursuit and enjoyment. For is there an
art and apprenticeship necessary for every other attainment? And is there no art
of life, no rule, no precepts to direct us in this principal concern? Can no
particular pleasure be attained without skill; and can the whole be regulated
without reflection or intelligence, by the blind guidance of appetite and
instinct? Surely then no mistakes are ever committed in this affair; but every
man, however dissolute and negligent, proceeds in the pursuit of happiness, with
as unerring a motion, as that which the celestial bodies observe, when,
conducted by the hand of the Almighty, they roll along the ethereal plains. But
if mistakes be often, be inevitably committed, let us register these mistakes;
let us consider their causes; let us weigh their importance; let us enquire for
their remedies. When from this we have fixed all the rules of conduct, we are
philosophers: When we have reduced these rules to practice, we are sages.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 6/20 mp. 149 gp. 205
Like many subordinate artists, employed to form the several wheels and springs
of a machine: Such are those who excel in all the particular arts of life. He is
the master workman who puts those several parts together; moves them according
to just harmony and proportion; and produces true felicity as the result of
their conspiring order.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 7/20 mp. 149 gp. 205
While thou hast such an alluring object in view, shall that labour and
attention, requisite to the attainment of thy end, ever seem burdensome and
intolerable? Know, that this labour itself is the chief ingredient of the
felicity to which thou aspirest, and that every enjoyment soon becomes insipid
and distasteful, when not acquired by fatigue and industry. See the hardy
hunters rise from their downy couches, shake off the slumbers which still weigh
down their heavy eye-lids, and, ere Aurora has yet covered the heavens with her
flaming mantle, hasten to the forest. They leave behind, in their own houses,
and in the neighbouring plains, animals of every kind, whose flesh furnishes the
most delicious fare, and which offer themselves to the fatal stroke. Laborious
man disdains so easy a purchase. He seeks for a prey, which hides itself from
his search, or flies from his pursuit, or defends itself from his violence.
Having exerted in the chace every passion of the mind, and every member of the
body, he then finds the charms of repose, and with joy compares its pleasures to
those of his engaging labours.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 8/20 mp. 149 gp. 206
And can vigorous industry give pleasure to the pursuit even of the most
worthless prey, which frequently escapes our toils? And cannot the same industry
render the cultivating of our mind, the moderating of our passions, the
enlightening of our reason, an agreeable occupation; while we are every day
sensible of our progress, and behold our inward features and countenance
brightening incessantly with new charms? Begin by curing yourself of this
lethargic indolence; the task is not difficult. You need but taste the sweets of
honest labour. Proceed to learn the just value of every pursuit; long study is
not requisite: Compare, though but for once, the mind to the body, virtue to
fortune, and glory to pleasure. You will then perceive the advantages of
industry: You will then be sensible what are the proper objects of your
industry.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 9/20 mp. 150 gp. 206
In vain do you seek repose from beds of roses: In vain do you hope for enjoyment
from the most delicious wines and fruits. Your indolence itself becomes a
fatigue: Your pleasure itself creates disgust. The mind, unexercised, finds
every delight insipid and loathsome; and ere yet the body, full of noxious
humours, feels the torment of its multiplied diseases, your nobler part is
sensible of the invading poison, and seeks in vain to relieve its anxiety by new
pleasures, which still augment the fatal malady.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 10/20 mp. 150 gp. 207
I need not tell you, that, by this eager pursuit of pleasure, you more and more
expose yourself to fortune and accidents, and rivet your affections on external
objects, which chance may, in a moment, ravish from you. I shall suppose, that
your indulgent stars favour you still with the enjoyment of your riches and
possessions. I prove to you, that even in the midst of your luxurious pleasures,
you are unhappy; and that by too much indulgence, you are incapable of enjoying
what prosperous fortune still allows you to possess.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 11/20 mp. 150 gp. 207
But surely the instability of fortune is a consideration not to be overlooked or
neglected. Happiness cannot possibly exist, where there is no security; and
security can have no place, where fortune has any dominion. Though that unstable
deity should not exert her rage against you, the dread of it would still torment
you; would disturb your slumbers, haunt your dreams, and throw a damp on the
jollity of your most delicious banquets.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 12/20 mp. 150 gp. 207
The temple of wisdom is seated on a rock, above the rage of the fighting
elements, and inaccessible to all the malice of man. The rolling thunder breaks
below; and those more terrible instruments of human fury reach not to so sublime
a height. The sage, while he breathes that serene air, looks down with pleasure,
mixed with compassion, on the errors of mistaken mortals, who blindly seek for
the true path of life, and pursue riches, nobility, honour, or power, for
genuine felicity. The greater part he beholds disappointed of their fond wishes:
Some lament, that having once possessed the object of their desires, it is
ravished from them by envious fortune: And all complain, that even their own
vows, though granted, cannot give them happiness, or relieve the anxiety of
their distracted minds.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 13/20 mp. 151 gp. 207
But does the sage always preserve himself in this philosophical indifference,
and rest contented with lamenting the miseries of mankind, without ever
employing himself for their relief? Does he constantly indulge this severe
wisdom, which, by pretending to elevate him above human accidents, does in
reality harden his heart, and render him careless of the interests of mankind,
and of society? No; he knows that in this sullen Apathy, neither true wisdom nor
true happiness can be found. He feels too strongly the charm of the social
affections ever to counteract so sweet, so natural, so virtuous a propensity.
Even when, bathed in tears, he laments the miseries of human race, of his
country, of his friends, and unable to give succour, can only relieve them by
compassion; he yet rejoices in the generous disposition, and feels a
satisfaction superior to that of the most indulged sense. So engaging are the
sentiments of humanity, that they brighten up the very face of sorrow, and
operate like the sun, which, shining on a dusky cloud or falling rain, paints on
them the most glorious colours which are to be found in the whole circle of
nature.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 14/20 mp. 151 gp. 208
But it is not here alone, that the social virtues display their energy. With
whatever ingredient you mix them, they are still predominant. As sorrow cannot
overcome them, so neither can sensual pleasure obscure them. The joys of love,
however tumultuous, banish not the tender sentiments of sympathy and affection.
They even derive their chief influence from that generous passion; and when
presented alone, afford nothing to the unhappy mind but lassitude and disgust.
Behold this sprightly debauchee, who professes a contempt of all other pleasures
but those of wine and jollity: Separate him from his companions, like a spark
from a fire, where before it contributed to the general blaze: His alacrity
suddenly extinguishes; and though surrounded with every other means of delight,
he lothes the sumptuous banquet, and prefers even the most abstracted study and
speculation, as more agreeable and entertaining.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 15/20 mp. 152 gp. 208
But the social passions never afford such transporting pleasures, or make so
glorious an appearance in the eyes both of GOD and man, as when, shaking off
every earthly mixture, they associate themselves with the sentiments of virtue,
and prompt us to laudable and worthy actions. As harmonious colours mutually
give and receive a lustre by their friendly union; so do these ennobling
sentiments of the human mind. See the triumph of nature in parental affection!
What selfish passion; what sensual delight is a match for it! Whether a man
exults in the prosperity and virtue of his offspring, or flies to their succour,
through the most threatening and tremendous dangers?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 16/20 mp. 152 gp. 208
Proceed still in purifying the generous passion, you will still the more admire
its shining glories. What charms are there in the harmony of minds, and in a
friendship founded on mutual esteem and gratitude! What satisfaction in
relieving the distressed, in comforting the afflicted, in raising the fallen,
and in stopping the career of cruel fortune, or of more cruel man, in their
insults over the good and virtuous! But what supreme joy in the victories over
vice as well as misery, when, by virtuous example or wise exhortation, our
fellow-creatures are taught to govern their passions, reform their vices, and
subdue their worst enemies, which inhabit within their own bosoms?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 17/20 mp. 152 gp. 209
But these objects are still too limited for the human mind, which, being of
celestial origin, swells with the divinest and most enlarged affections, and
carrying its attention beyond kindred and acquaintance, extends its benevolent
wishes to the most distant posterity. It views liberty and laws as the source of
human happiness, and devotes itself, with the utmost alacrity, to their
guardianship and protection. Toils, dangers, death itself carry their charms,
when we brave them for the public good, and ennoble that being, which we
generously sacrifice for the interests of our country. Happy the man, whom
indulgent fortune allows to pay to virtue what he owes to nature, and to make a
generous gift of what must otherwise be ravished from him by cruel necessity!
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 18/20 mp. 153 gp. 209
In the true sage and patriot are united whatever can distinguish human nature,
or elevate mortal man to a resemblance with the divinity. The softest
benevolence, the most undaunted resolution, the tenderest sentiments, the most
sublime love of virtue, all these animate successively his transported bosom.
What satisfaction, when he looks within, to find the most turbulent passions
tuned to just harmony and concord, and every jarring sound banished from this
enchanting music! If the contemplation, even of inanimate beauty, is so
delightful; if it ravishes the senses, even when the fair form is foreign to us:
What must be the effects of moral beauty? And what influence must it have, when
it embellishes our own mind, and is the result of our own reflection and
industry?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 19/20 mp. 153 gp. 209
But where is the reward of virtue? And what recompence has nature provided for
such important sacrifices, as those of life and fortune, which we must often
make to it? Oh, sons of earth! Are ye ignorant of the value of this celestial
mistress? And do ye meanly enquire for her portion, when ye observe her genuine
charms? But know, that nature has been indulgent to human weakness, and has not
left this favourite child, naked and unendowed. She has provided virtue with the
richest dowry; but being careful, lest the allurements of interest should engage
such suitors, as were insensible of the native worth of so divine a beauty, she
has wisely provided, that this dowry can have no charms but in the eyes of those
who are already transported with the love of virtue. GLORY is the portion of
virtue, the sweet reward of honourable toils, the triumphant crown, which covers
the thoughtful head of the disinterested patriot, or the dusty brow of the
victorious warrior. Elevated by so sublime a prize, the man of virtue looks down
with contempt on all the allurements of pleasure, and all the menaces of danger.
Death itself loses its terrors, when he considers, that its dominion extends
only over a part of him, and that, in spite of death and time, the rage of the
elements, and the endless vicissitude of human affairs, he is assured of an
immortal fame among all the sons of men.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Para. 20/20 mp. 154 gp. 210
There surely is a being who presides over the universe; and who, with infinite
wisdom and power, has reduced the jarring elements into just order and
proportion. Let speculative reasoners dispute, how far this beneficent being
extends his care, and whether he prolongs our existence beyond the grave, in
order to bestow on virtue its just reward, and render it fully triumphant. The
man of morals, without deciding any thing on so dubious a subject, is satisfied
with the portion, marked out to him by the supreme disposer of all things.
Gratefully he accepts of that farther reward prepared for him; but if
disappointed, he thinks not virtue an empty name; but justly esteeming it its
own reward, he gratefully acknowledges the bounty of his creator, who, by
calling him into existence, has thereby afforded him an opportunity of once
acquiring so invaluable a possession.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 16 Foot. 1 mp. 146 gp. 203
†1 Or the man of action and virtue.
Essay 17. THE PLATONIST
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 17 Para. 1/7 mp. 155 gp. 210
ESSAY XVII: THE PLATONIST†1
To some philosophers it appears matter of surprize, that all mankind, possessing
the same nature, and being endowed with the same faculties, should yet differ so
widely in their pursuits and inclinations, and that one should utterly condemn
what is fondly sought after by another. To some it appears matter of still more
surprize, that a man should differ so widely from himself at different times;
and, after possession, reject with disdain what, before, was the object of all
his vows and wishes. To me this feverish uncertainty and irresolution, in human
conduct, seems altogether unavoidable; nor can a rational soul, made for the
contemplation of the Supreme Being, and of his works, ever enjoy tranquillity or
satisfaction, while detained in the ignoble pursuits of sensual pleasure or
popular applause. The divinity is a boundless ocean of bliss and glory: Human
minds are smaller streams, which, arising at first from this ocean, seek still,
amid all their wanderings, to return to it, and to lose themselves in that
immensity of perfection. When checked in this natural course, by vice or folly,
they become furious and enraged; and, swelling to a torrent, do then spread
horror and devastation on the neighbouring plains.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 17 Para. 2/7 mp. 156 gp. 211
In vain, by pompous phrase and passionate expression, each recommends his own
pursuit, and invites the credulous hearers to an imitation of his life and
manners. The heart belies the countenance, and sensibly feels, even amid the
highest success, the unsatisfactory nature of all those pleasures, which detain
it from its true object. I examine the voluptuous man before enjoyment; I
measure the vehemence of his desire, and the importance of his object; I find
that all his happiness proceeds only from that hurry of thought, which takes him
from himself, and turns his view from his guilt and misery. I consider him a
moment after; he has now enjoyed the pleasure, which he fondly sought after. The
sense of his guilt and misery returns upon him with double anguish: His mind
tormented with fear and remorse; his body depressed with disgust and satiety.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 17 Para. 3/7 mp. 156 gp. 211
But a more august, at least a more haughty personage, presents himself boldly to
our censure; and assuming the title of a philosopher and man of morals, offers
to submit to the most rigid examination. He challenges, with a visible, though
concealed impatience, our approbation and applause; and seems offended, that we
should hesitate a moment before we break out into admiration of his virtue.
Seeing this impatience, I hesitate still more: I begin to examine the motives of
his seeming virtue: But behold! ere I can enter upon this enquiry, he flings
himself from me; and addressing his discourse to that crowd of heedless
auditors, fondly abuses them by his magnificent pretensions.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 17 Para. 4/7 mp. 156 gp. 212
O philosopher! thy wisdom is vain, and thy virtue unprofitable. Thou seekest the
ignorant applauses of men, not the solid reflections of thy own conscience, or
the more solid approbation of that being, who, with one regard of his all-seeing
eye, penetrates the universe. Thou surely art conscious of the hollowness of thy
pretended probity, whilst calling thyself a citizen, a son, a friend, thou
forgettest thy higher sovereign, thy true father, thy greatest benefactor. Where
is the adoration due to infinite perfection, whence every thing good and
valuable is derived? Where is the gratitude, owing to thy creator, who called
thee forth from nothing, who placed thee in all these relations to thy
fellow-creatures, and requiring thee to fulfil the duty of each relation,
forbids thee to neglect what thou owest to himself, the most perfect being, to
whom thou art connected by the closest tye?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 17 Para. 5/7 mp. 157 gp. 212
But thou art thyself thy own idol: Thou worshippest thy imaginary perfections:
Or rather, sensible of thy real imperfections, thou seekest only to deceive the
world, and to please thy fancy, by multiplying thy ignorant admirers. Thus, not
content with neglecting what is most excellent in the universe, thou desirest to
substitute in his place what is most vile and contemptible.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 17 Para. 6/7 mp. 157 gp. 212
Consider all the works of mens hands; all the inventions of human wit, in which
thou affectest so nice a discernment: Thou wilt find, that the most perfect
production still proceeds from the most perfect thought, and that it is MIND
alone, which we admire, while we bestow our applause on the graces of a
well-proportioned statue, or the symmetry of a noble pile. The statuary, the
architect comes still in view, and makes us reflect on the beauty of his art and
contrivance, which, from a heap of unformed matter, could extract such
expressions and proportions. This superior beauty of thought and intelligence
thou thyself acknowledgest, while thou invitest us to contemplate, in thy
conduct, the harmony of affections, the dignity of sentiments, and all those
graces of a mind, which chiefly merit our attention. But why stoppest thou
short? Seest thou nothing farther that is valuable? Amid thy rapturous applauses
of beauty and order, art thou still ignorant where is to be found the most
consummate beauty? the most perfect order? Compare the works of art with those
of nature. The one are but imitations of the other. The nearer art approaches to
nature, the more perfect is it esteemed. But still, how wide are its nearest
approaches, and what an immense interval may be observed between them? Art
copies only the outside of nature, leaving the inward and more admirable springs
and principles; as exceeding her imitation; as beyond her comprehension. Art
copies only the minute productions of nature, despairing to reach that grandeur
and magnificence, which are so astonishing in the masterly works of her
original. Can we then be so blind as not to discover an intelligence and a
design in the exquisite and most stupendous contrivance of the universe? Can we
be so stupid as not to feel the warmest raptures of worship and adoration, upon
the contemplation of that intelligent being, so infinitely good and wise?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 17 Para. 7/7 mp. 158 gp. 213
The most perfect happiness, surely, must arise from the contemplation of the
most perfect object. But what more perfect than beauty and virtue? And where is
beauty to be found equal to that of the universe? Or virtue, which can be
compared to the benevolence and justice of the Deity? If aught can diminish the
pleasure of this contemplation, it must be either the narrowness of our
faculties, which conceals from us the greatest part of these beauties and
perfections; or the shortness of our lives, which allows not time sufficient to
instruct us in them. But it is our comfort, that, if we employ worthily the
faculties here assigned us, they will be enlarged in another state of existence,
so as to render us more suitable worshippers of our maker: And that the task,
which can never be finished in time, will be the business of an eternity.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 17 Foot. 1 mp. 155 gp. 210
†1 Or, the man of contemplation, and philosophical devotion.
Essay 18. THE SCEPTIC
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 1/55 mp. 159 gp. 213
ESSAY XVIII: THE SCEPTIC
I have long entertained a suspicion, with regard to the decisions of
philosophers upon all subjects, and found in myself a greater inclination to
dispute, than assent to their conclusions. There is one mistake, to which they
seem liable, almost without exception; they confine too much their principles,
and make no account of that vast variety, which nature has so much affected in
all her operations. When a philosopher has once laid hold of a favourite
principle, which perhaps accounts for many natural effects, he extends the same
principle over the whole creation, and reduces to it every phenomenon, though by
the most violent and absurd reasoning. Our own mind being narrow and contracted,
we cannot extend our conception to the variety and extent of nature; but
imagine, that she is as much bounded in her operations, as we are in our
speculation.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 2/55 mp. 160 gp. 214
But if ever this infirmity of philosophers is to be suspected on any occasion,
it is in their reasonings concerning human life, and the methods of attaining
happiness. In that case, they are led astray, not only by the narrowness of
their understandings, but by that also of their passions. Almost every one has a
predominant inclination, to which his other desires and affections submit, and
which governs him, though, perhaps, with some intervals, through the whole
course of his life. It is difficult for him to apprehend, that any thing, which
appears totally indifferent to him, can ever give enjoyment to any person, or
can possess charms, which altogether escape his observation. His own pursuits
are always, in his account, the most engaging: The objects of his passion, the
most valuable: And the road, which he pursues, the only one that leads to
happiness.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 3/55 mp. 160 gp. 214
But would these prejudiced reasoners reflect a moment, there are many obvious
instances and arguments, sufficient to undeceive them, and make them enlarge
their maxims and principles. Do they not see the vast variety of inclinations
and pursuits among our species; where each man seems fully satisfied with his
own course of life, and would esteem it the greatest unhappiness to be confined
to that of his neighbour? Do they not feel in themselves, that what pleases at
one time, displeases at another, by the change of inclination; and that it is
not in their power, by their utmost efforts, to recall that taste or appetite,
which formerly bestowed charms on what now appears indifferent or disagreeable?
What is the meaning therefore of those general preferences of the town or
country life, of a life of action or one of pleasure, of retirement or society;
when besides the different inclinations of different men, every one's experience
may convince him, that each of these kinds of life is agreeable in its turn, and
that their variety or their judicious mixture chiefly contributes to the
rendering all of them agreeable.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 4/55 mp. 160 gp. 214
But shall this business be allowed to go altogether at adventures? And must a
man consult only his humour and inclination, in order to determine his course of
life, without employing his reason to inform him what road is preferable, and
leads most surely to happiness? Is there no difference then between one man's
conduct and another?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 5/55 mp. 161 gp. 215
I answer, there is a great difference. One man, following his inclination, in
chusing his course of life, may employ much surer means for succeeding than
another, who is led by his inclination into the same course of life, and pursues
the same object. Are riches the chief object of your desires? Acquire skill in
your profession; be diligent in the exercise of it; enlarge the circle of your
friends and acquaintance; avoid pleasure and expence; and never be generous, but
with a view of gaining more than you could save by frugality. Would you acquire
the public esteem? Guard equally against the extremes of arrogance and fawning.
Let it appear that you set a value upon yourself, but without despising others.
If you fall into either of the extremes, you either provoke men's pride by your
insolence, or teach them to despise you by your timorous submission, and by the
mean opinion which you seem to entertain of yourself.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 6/55 mp. 161 gp. 215
These, you say, are the maxims of common prudence, and discretion; what every
parent inculcates on his child, and what every man of sense pursues in the
course of life, which he has chosen.--What is it then you desire more? Do you
come to a philosopher as to a cunning man, to learn something by magic or
witchcraft, beyond what can be known by common prudence and discretion?--Yes; we
come to a philosopher to be instructed, how we shall chuse our ends, more than
the means for attaining these ends: We want to know what desire we shall
gratify, what passion we shall comply with, what appetite we shall indulge. As
to the rest, we trust to common sense, and the general maxims of the world for
our instruction.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 7/55 mp. 161 gp. 215
I am sorry then, I have pretended to be a philosopher: For I find your questions
very perplexing; and am in danger, if my answer be too rigid and severe, of
passing for a pedant and scholastic; if it be too easy and free, of being taken
for a preacher of vice and immorality. However, to satisfy you, I shall deliver
my opinion upon the matter, and shall only desire you to esteem it of as little
consequence as I do myself. By that means you will neither think it worthy of
your ridicule nor your anger.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 8/55 mp. 162 gp. 216
If we can depend upon any principle, which we learn from philosophy, this, I
think, may be considered as certain and undoubted, that there is nothing, in
itself, valuable or despicable, desirable or hateful, beautiful or deformed; but
that these attributes arise from the particular constitution and fabric of human
sentiment and affection. What seems the most delicious food to one animal,
appears loathsome to another: What affects the feeling of one with delight,
produces uneasiness in another. This is confessedly the case with regard to all
the bodily senses: But if we examine the matter more accurately, we shall find,
that the same observation holds even where the mind concurs with the body, and
mingles its sentiment with the exterior appetite.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 9/55 mp. 162 gp. 216
Desire this passionate lover to give you a character of his mistress: He will
tell you, that he is at a loss for words to describe her charms, and will ask
you very seriously if ever you were acquainted with a goddess or an angel? If
you answer that you never were: He will then say, that it is impossible for you
to form a conception of such divine beauties as those which his charmer
possesses; so complete a shape; such well-proportioned features; so engaging an
air; such sweetness of disposition; such gaiety of humour. You can infer
nothing, however, from all this discourse, but that the poor man is in love; and
that the general appetite between the sexes, which nature has infused into all
animals, is in him determined to a particular object by some qualities, which
give him pleasure. The same divine creature, not only to a different animal, but
also to a different man, appears a mere mortal being, and is beheld with the
utmost indifference.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 10/55 mp. 162 gp. 216
Nature has given all animals a like prejudice in favour of their offspring. As
soon as the helpless infant sees the light, though in every other eye it appears
a despicable and a miserable creature, it is regarded by its fond parent with
the utmost affection, and is preferred to every other object, however perfect
and accomplished. The passion alone, arising from the original structure and
formation of human nature, bestows a value on the most insignificant object.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 11/55 mp. 163 gp. 216
We may push the same observation further, and may conclude, that, even when the
mind operates alone, and feeling the sentiment of blame or approbation,
pronounces one object deformed and odious, another beautiful and amiable; I say,
that, even in this case, those qualities are not really in the objects, but
belong entirely to the sentiment of that mind which blames or praises. I grant,
that it will be more difficult to make this proposition evident, and as it were,
palpable, to negligent thinkers; because nature is more uniform in the
sentiments of the mind than in most feelings of the body, and produces a nearer
resemblance in the inward than in the outward part of human kind. There is
something approaching to principles in mental taste; and critics can reason and
dispute more plausibly than cooks or perfumers. We may observe, however, that
this uniformity among human kind, hinders not, but that there is a considerable
diversity in the sentiments of beauty and worth, and that education, custom,
prejudice, caprice, and humour, frequently vary our taste of this kind. You will
never convince a man, who is not accustomed to ITALIAN music, and has not an ear
to follow its intricacies, that a SCOTCH tune is not preferable. You have not
even any single argument, beyond your own taste, which you can employ in your
behalf: And to your antagonist, his particular taste will always appear a more
convincing argument to the contrary. If you be wise, each of you will allow,
that the other may be in the right; and having many other instances of this
diversity of taste, you will both confess, that beauty and worth are merely of a
relative nature, and consist in an agreeable sentiment, produced by an object in
a particular mind, according to the peculiar structure and constitution of that
mind.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 12/55 mp. 163 gp. 217
By this diversity of sentiment, observable in human kind, nature has, perhaps,
intended to make us sensible of her authority, and let us see what surprizing
changes she could produce on the passions and desires of mankind, merely by the
change of their inward fabric, without any alteration on the objects. The vulgar
may even be convinced by this argument: But men, accustomed to thinking, may
draw a more convincing, at least a more general argument, from the very nature
of the subject.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 13/55 mp. 164 gp. 217
In the operation of reasoning, the mind does nothing but run over its objects,
as they are supposed to stand in reality, without adding any thing to them, or
diminishing any thing from them. If I examine the PTOLOMAIC and COPERNICAN
systems, I endeavour only, by my enquiries, to know the real situation of the
planets; that is in other words, I endeavour to give them, in my conception, the
same relations, that they bear towards each other in the heavens. To this
operation of the mind, therefore, there seems to be always a real, though often
an unknown standard, in the nature of things; nor is truth or falsehood variable
by the various apprehensions of mankind. Though all human race should for ever
conclude, that the sun moves, and the earth remains at rest, the sun stirs not
an inch from his place for all these reasonings; and such conclusions are
eternally false and erroneous.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 14/55 mp. 164 gp. 218
But the case is not the same with the qualities of beautiful and deformed,
desirable and odious, as with truth and falsehood. In the former case, the mind
is not content with merely surveying its objects, as they stand in themselves:
It also feels a sentiment of delight or uneasiness, approbation or blame,
consequent to that survey; and this sentiment determines it to affix the epithet
beautiful or deformed, desirable or odious. Now, it is evident, that this
sentiment must depend upon the particular fabric or structure of the mind, which
enables such particular forms to operate in such a particular manner, and
produces a sympathy or conformity between the mind and its objects. Vary the
structure of the mind or inward organs, the sentiment no longer follows, though
the form remains the same. The sentiment being different from the object, and
arising from its operation upon the organs of the mind, an alteration upon the
latter must vary the effect, nor can the same object, presented to a mind
totally different, produce the same sentiment.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 15/55 mp. 165 gp. 218
This conclusion every one is apt to draw of himself, without much philosophy,
where the sentiment is evidently distinguishable from the object. Who is not
sensible, that power, and glory, and vengeance, are not desirable of themselves,
but derive all their value from the structure of human passions, which begets a
desire towards such particular pursuits? But with regard to beauty, either
natural or moral, the case is commonly supposed to be different. The agreeable
quality is thought to lie in the object, not in the sentiment; and that merely
because the sentiment is not so turbulent and violent as to distinguish itself,
in an evident manner, from the perception of the object.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 16/55 mp. 165 gp. 218
But a little reflection suffices to distinguish them. A man may know exactly all
the circles and ellipses of the COPERNICAN system, and all the irregular spirals
of the PTOLOMAIC, without perceiving that the former is more beautiful than the
latter. EUCLID has fully explained every quality of the circle, but has not, in
any proposition, said a word of its beauty. The reason is evident. Beauty is not
a quality of the circle. It lies not in any part of the line whose parts are all
equally distant from a common center. It is only the effect, which that figure
produces upon a mind, whose particular fabric or structure renders it
susceptible of such sentiments. In vain would you look for it in the circle, or
seek it, either by your senses, or by mathematical reasonings, in all the
properties of that figure.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 17/55 mp. 166 gp. 219
The mathematician, who took no other pleasure in reading VIRGIL, but that of
examining ENEAS'S voyage by the map, might perfectly understand the meaning of
every Latin word, employed by that divine author; and consequently, might have a
distinct idea of the whole narration. He would even have a more distinct idea of
it, than they could attain who had not studied so exactly the geography of the
poem. He knew, therefore, every thing in the poem: But he was ignorant of its
beauty; because the beauty, properly speaking, lies not in the poem, but in the
sentiment or taste of the reader. And where a man has no such delicacy of
temper, as to make him feel this sentiment, he must be ignorant of the beauty,
though possessed of the science and understanding of an angel.†1
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 18/55 mp. 166 gp. 219
The inference upon the whole is, that it is not from the value or worth of the
object, which any person pursues, that we can determine his enjoyment, but
merely from the passion with which he pursues it, and the success which he meets
with in his pursuit. Objects have absolutely no worth or value in themselves.
They derive their worth merely from the passion. If that be strong, and steady,
and successful, the person is happy. It cannot reasonably be doubted, but a
little miss, dressed in a new gown for a dancing-school ball, receives as
compleat enjoyment as the greatest orator, who triumphs in the splendour of his
eloquence, while he governs the passions and resolutions of a numerous assembly.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 19/55 mp. 167 gp. 220
All the difference, therefore, between one man and another, with regard to life,
consists either in the passion, or in the enjoyment: And these differences are
sufficient to produce the wide extremes of happiness and misery.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 20/55 mp. 167 gp. 220
To be happy, the passion must neither be too violent nor too remiss. In the
first case, the mind is in a perpetual hurry and tumult; in the second, it sinks
into a disagreeable indolence and lethargy.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 21/55 mp. 167 gp. 220
To be happy, the passion must be benign and social; not rough or fierce. The
affections of the latter kind are not near so agreeable to the feeling, as those
of the former. Who will compare rancour and animosity, envy and revenge, to
friendship, benignity, clemency, and gratitude?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 22/55 mp. 167 gp. 220
To be happy, the passion must be chearful and gay, not gloomy and melancholy. A
propensity to hope and joy is real riches: One to fear and sorrow, real poverty.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 23/55 mp. 167 gp. 220
Some passions or inclinations, in the enjoyment of their object, are not so
steady or constant as others, nor convey such durable pleasure and satisfaction.
Philosophical devotion, for instance, like the enthusiasm of a poet, is the
transitory effect of high spirits, great leisure, a fine genius, and a habit of
study and contemplation: But notwithstanding all these circumstances, an
abstract, invisible object, like that which natural religion alone presents to
us, cannot long actuate the mind, or be of any moment in life. To render the
passion of continuance, we must find some method of affecting the senses and
imagination, and must embrace some historical, as well as philosophical account
of the divinity. Popular superstitions and observances are even found to be of
use in this particular.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 24/55 mp. 167 gp. 220
Though the tempers of men be very different, yet we may safely pronounce in
general, that a life of pleasure cannot support itself so long as one of
business, but is much more subject to satiety and disgust. The amusements, which
are the most durable, have all a mixture of application and attention in them;
such as gaming and hunting. And in general, business and action fill up all the
great vacancies in human life.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 25/55 mp. 167 gp. 221
But where the temper is the best disposed for any enjoyment, the object is often
wanting: And in this respect, the passions, which pursue external objects,
contribute not so much to happiness, as those which rest in ourselves; since we
are neither so certain of attaining such objects, nor so secure in possessing
them. A passion for learning is preferable, with regard to happiness, to one for
riches.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 26/55 mp. 168 gp. 221
Some men are possessed of great strength of mind; and even when they pursue
external objects, are not much affected by a disappointment, but renew their
application and industry with the greatest chearfulness. Nothing contributes
more to happiness than such a turn of mind.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 27/55 mp. 168 gp. 221
According to this short and imperfect sketch of human life, the happiest
disposition of mind is the virtuous; or, in other words, that which leads to
action and employment, renders us sensible to the social passions, steels the
heart against the assaults of fortune, reduces the affections to a just
moderation, makes our own thoughts an entertainment to us, and inclines us
rather to the pleasures of society and conversation, than to those of the
senses. This, in the mean time, must be obvious to the most careless reasoner,
that all dispositions of mind are not alike favourable to happiness, and that
one passion or humour may be extremely desirable, while another is equally
disagreeable. And indeed, all the difference between the conditions of life
depends upon the mind; nor is there any one situation of affairs, in itself,
preferable to another. Good and ill, both natural and moral, are entirely
relative to human sentiment and affection. No man would ever be unhappy, could
he alter his feelings. PROTEUS-like, he would elude all attacks, by the
continual alterations of his shape and form.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 28/55 mp. 168 gp. 221
But of this resource nature has, in a great measure, deprived us. The fabric and
constitution of our mind no more depends on our choice, than that of our body.
The generality of men have not even the smallest notion, that any alteration in
this respect can ever be desirable. As a stream necessarily follows the several
inclinations of the ground, on which it runs; so are the ignorant and
thoughtless part of mankind actuated by their natural propensities. Such are
effectually excluded from all pretensions to philosophy, and the medicine of the
mind, so much boasted. But even upon the wise and thoughtful, nature has a
prodigious influence; nor is it always in a man's power, by the utmost art and
industry, to correct his temper, and attain that virtuous character, to which he
aspires. The empire of philosophy extends over a few; and with regard to these
too, her authority is very weak and limited. Men may well be sensible of the
value of virtue, and may desire to attain it; but it is not always certain, that
they will be successful in their wishes.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 29/55 mp. 169 gp. 222
Whoever considers, without prejudice, the course of human actions, will find,
that mankind are almost entirely guided by constitution and temper, and that
general maxims have little influence, but so far as they affect our taste or
sentiment. If a man have a lively sense of honour and virtue, with moderate
passions, his conduct will always be conformable to the rules of morality; or if
he depart from them, his return will be easy and expeditious. On the other hand,
where one is born of so perverse a frame of mind, of so callous and insensible a
disposition, as to have no relish for virtue and humanity, no sympathy with his
fellow-creatures, no desire of esteem and applause; such a one must be allowed
entirely incurable, nor is there any remedy in philosophy. He reaps no
satisfaction but from low and sensual objects, or from the indulgence of
malignant passions: He feels no remorse to controul his vicious inclinations: He
has not even that sense or taste, which is requisite to make him desire a better
character: For my part, I know not how I should address myself to such a one, or
by what arguments I should endeavour to reform him. Should I tell him of the
inward satisfaction which results from laudable and humane actions, the delicate
pleasure of disinterested love and friendship, the lasting enjoyments of a good
name and an established character, he might still reply, that these were,
perhaps, pleasures to such as were susceptible of them; but that, for his part,
he finds himself of a quite different turn and disposition. I must repeat it; my
philosophy affords no remedy in such a case, nor could I do any thing but lament
this person's unhappy condition. But then I ask, If any other philosophy can
afford a remedy; or if it be possible, by any system, to render all mankind
virtuous, however perverse may be their natural frame of mind? Experience will
soon convince us of the contrary; and I will venture to affirm, that, perhaps,
the chief benefit, which results from philosophy, arises in an indirect
manner,†a and proceeds more from its secret, insensible influence, than from its
immediate application.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 30/55 mp. 170 gp. 223
It is certain, that a serious attention to the sciences and liberal arts softens
and humanizes the temper, and cherishes those fine emotions, in which true
virtue and honour consists. It rarely, very rarely happens, that a man of taste
and learning is not, at least, an honest man, whatever frailties may attend him.
The bent of his mind to speculative studies must mortify in him the passions of
interest and ambition, and must, at the same time, give him a greater
sensibility of all the decencies and duties of life. He feels more fully a moral
distinction in characters and manners; nor is his sense of this kind diminished,
but, on the contrary, it is much encreased, by speculation.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 31/55 mp. 170 gp. 223
Besides such insensible changes upon the temper and disposition, it is highly
probable, that others may be produced by study and application. The prodigious
effects of education may convince us, that the mind is not altogether stubborn
and inflexible, but will admit of many alterations from its original make and
structure. Let a man propose to himself the model of a character, which he
approves: Let him be well acquainted with those particulars, in which his own
character deviates from this model: Let him keep a constant watch over himself,
and bend his mind, by a continual effort, from the vices, towards the virtues;
and I doubt not but, in time, he will find, in his temper, an alteration for the
better.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 32/55 mp. 170 gp. 223
Habit is another powerful means of reforming the mind, and implanting in it good
dispositions and inclinations. A man, who continues in a course of sobriety and
temperance, will hate riot and disorder: If he engage in business or study,
indolence will seem a punishment to him: If he constrain himself to practise
beneficence and affability, he will soon abhor all instances of pride and
violence. Where one is thoroughly convinced that the virtuous course of life is
preferable; if he have but resolution enough, for some time, to impose a
violence on himself; his reformation needs not be despaired of. The misfortune
is, that this conviction and this resolution never can have place, unless a man
be, before-hand, tolerably virtuous.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 33/55 mp. 171 gp. 224
Here then is the chief triumph of art and philosophy: It insensibly refines the
temper, and it points out to us those dispositions which we should endeavour to
attain, by a constant bent of mind, and by repeated habit. Beyond this I cannot
acknowledge it to have great influence; and I must entertain doubts concerning
all those exhortations and consolations, which are in such vogue among
speculative reasoners.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 34/55 mp. 171 gp. 224
We have already observed, that no objects are, in themselves, desirable or
odious, valuable or despicable; but that objects acquire these qualities from
the particular character and constitution of the mind, which surveys them. To
diminish therefore, or augment any person's value for an object, to excite or
moderate his passions, there are no direct arguments or reasons, which can be
employed with any force or influence. The catching of flies, like DOMITIAN, if
it give more pleasure, is preferable to the hunting of wild beasts, like WILLIAM
RUFUS, or conquering of kingdoms, like ALEXANDER.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 35/55 mp. 172 gp. 224
But though the value of every object can be determined only by the sentiment or
passion of every individual, we may observe, that the passion, in pronouncing
its verdict, considers not the object simply, as it is in itself, but surveys it
with all the circumstances, which attend it. A man transported with joy, on
account of his possessing a diamond, confines not his view to the glistering
stone before him: He also considers its rarity, and thence chiefly arises his
pleasure and exultation. Here therefore a philosopher may step in, and suggest
particular views, and considerations, and circumstances, which otherwise would
have escaped us; and, by that means, he may either moderate or excite any
particular passion.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 36/55 mp. 172 gp. 224
It may seem unreasonable absolutely to deny the authority of philosophy in this
respect: But it must be confessed, that there lies this strong presumption
against it, that, if these views be natural and obvious, they would have
occurred of themselves, without the assistance of philosophy; if they be not
natural, they never can have any influence on the affections. These are of a
very delicate nature, and cannot be forced or constrained by the utmost art or
industry. A consideration, which we seek for on purpose, which we enter into
with difficulty, which we cannot retain without care and attention, will never
produce those genuine and durable movements of passion, which are the result of
nature, and the constitution of the mind. A man may as well pretend to cure
himself of love, by viewing his mistress through the artificial medium of a
microscope or prospect, and beholding there the coarseness of her skin, and
monstrous disproportion of her features, as hope to excite or moderate any
passion by the artificial arguments of a SENECA or an EPICTETUS. The remembrance
of the natural aspect and situation of the object, will, in both cases, still
recur upon him. The reflections of philosophy are too subtile and distant to
take place in common life, or eradicate any affection. The air is too fine to
breathe in, where it is above the winds and clouds of the atmosphere.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 37/55 mp. 173 gp. 225
Another defect of those refined reflections, which philosophy suggests to us,
is, that commonly they cannot diminish or extinguish our vicious passions,
without diminishing or extinguishing such as are virtuous, and rendering the
mind totally indifferent and unactive. They are, for the most part, general, and
are applicable to all our affections. In vain do we hope to direct their
influence only to one side. If by incessant study and meditation we have
rendered them intimate and present to us, they will operate throughout, and
spread an universal insensibility over the mind. When we destroy the nerves, we
extinguish the sense of pleasure, together with that of pain, in the human body.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 38/55 mp. 173 gp. 225
It will be easy, by one glance of the eye, to find one or other of these defects
in most of those philosophical reflections, so much celebrated both in ancient
and modern times. Let not the injuries or violence of men, say the
philosophers,†2 ever discompose you by anger or hatred. Would you be angry at
the ape for its malice, or the tyger for its ferocity? This reflection leads us
into a bad opinion of human nature, and must extinguish the social affections.
It tends also to prevent all remorse for a man's own crimes; when he considers,
that vice is as natural to mankind, as the particular instincts to
brute-creatures.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 39/55 mp. 173 gp. 225
All ills arise from the order of the universe, which is absolutely perfect.
Would you wish to disturb so divine an order for the sake of your own particular
interest? What if the ills I suffer arise from malice or oppression? But the
vices and imperfections of men are also comprehended in the order of the
universe:
If plagues and earthquakes break not heav'n's design,
Why then a BORGIA or a CATILINE?
Let this be allowed; and my own vices will also be a part of the same order.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 40/55 mp. 173 gp. 226
†b To one who said, that none were happy, who were not above opinion, a SPARTAN
replied, then none are happy but knaves and robbers.†3
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 41/55 mp. 174 gp. 226
Man is born to be miserable; and is he surprized at any particular misfortune?
And can he give way to sorrow and lamentation upon account of any disaster? Yes:
He very reasonably laments, that he should be born to be miserable. Your
consolation presents a hundred ills for one, of which you pretend to ease him.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 42/55 mp. 174 gp. 226
You should always have before your eyes death, disease, poverty, blindness,
exile, calumny, and infamy, as ills which are incident to human nature. If any
one of these ills falls to your lot, you will bear it the better, when you have
reckoned upon it. I answer, if we confine ourselves to a general and distant
reflection on the ills of human life, that can have no effect to prepare us for
them. If by close and intense meditation we render them present and intimate to
us, that is the true secret for poisoning all our pleasures, and rendering us
perpetually miserable.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 43/55 mp. 174 gp. 226
Your sorrow is fruitless, and will not change the course of destiny. Very true:
And for that very reason I am sorry.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 44/55 mp. 174 gp. 226
Cicero's consolation for deafness is somewhat curious. How many languages are
there, says he, which you do not understand? The PUNIC, SPANISH, GALLIC,
AEGYPTIAN, &c. With regard to all these, you are as if you were deaf, yet you
are indifferent about the matter. Is it then so great a misfortune to be deaf to
one language more?†4
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 45/55 mp. 174 gp. 226
I like better the repartee of ANTIPATER the CYRENIAC, when some women were
condoling with him for his blindness: What! says he, Do you think there are no
pleasures in the dark?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 46/55 mp. 174 gp. 226
Nothing can be more destructive, says FONTENELLE, to ambition, and the passion
for conquest, than the true system of astronomy. What a poor thing is even the
whole globe in comparison of the infinite extent of nature? This consideration
is evidently too distant ever to have any effect. Or, if it had any, would it
not destroy patriotism as well as ambition? The same gallant author adds with
some reason, that the bright eyes of the ladies are the only objects, which lose
nothing of their lustre or value from the most extensive views of astronomy, but
stand proof against every system. Would philosophers advise us to limit our
affection to them?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 47/55 mp. 175 gp. 227
†c Exile, says PLUTARCH to a friend in banishment, is no evil: Mathematicians
tell us, that the whole earth is but a point, compared to the heavens. To change
one's country then is little more than to remove from one street to another. Man
is not a plant, rooted to a certain spot of earth: All soils and all climates
are alike suited to him.†5 These topics are admirable, could they fall only into
the hands of banished persons. But what if they come also to the knowledge of
those who are employed in public affairs, and destroy all their attachment to
their native country? Or will they operate like the quack's medicine, which is
equally good for a diabetes and a dropsy?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 48/55 mp. 175 gp. 227
It is certain, were a superior being thrust into a human body, that the whole of
life would to him appear so mean, contemptible, and puerile, that he never could
be induced to take part in any thing, and would scarcely give attention to what
passes around him. To engage him to such a condescension as to play even the
part of a PHILIP with zeal and alacrity, would be much more difficult, than to
constrain the same PHILIP, after having been a king and a conqueror during fifty
years, to mend old shoes with proper care and attention; the occupation which
LUCIAN assigns him in the infernal regions. Now all the same topics of disdain
towards human affairs, which could operate on this supposed being, occur also to
a philosopher; but being, in some measure, disproportioned to human capacity,
and not being fortified by the experience of any thing better, they make not a
full impression on him. He sees, but he feels not sufficiently their truth; and
is always a sublime philosopher, when he needs not; that is, as long as nothing
disturbs him, or rouzes his affections. While others play, he wonders at their
keenness and ardour; but he no sooner puts in his own stake, than he is commonly
transported with the same passions, that he had so much condemned, while he
remained a simple spectator.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 49/55 mp. 176 gp. 228
There are two considerations chiefly, to be met with in books of philosophy,
from which any important effect is to be expected, and that because these
considerations are drawn from common life, and occur upon the most superficial
view of human affairs. When we reflect on the shortness and uncertainty of life,
how despicable seem all our pursuits of happiness? And even, if we would extend
our concern beyond our own life, how frivolous appear our most enlarged and most
generous projects; when we consider the incessant changes and revolutions of
human affairs, by which laws and learning, books and governments are hurried
away by time, as by a rapid stream, and are lost in the immense ocean of matter?
Such a reflection certainly tends to mortify all our passions: But does it not
thereby counterwork the artifice of nature, who has happily deceived us into an
opinion, that human life is of some importance? And may not such a reflection be
employed with success by voluptuous reasoners, in order to lead us, from the
paths of action and virtue, into the flowery fields of indolence and pleasure?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 50/55 mp. 176 gp. 228
We are informed by THUCYDIDES, that, during the famous plague of ATHENS, when
death seemed present to every one, a dissolute mirth and gaiety prevailed among
the people, who exhorted one another to make the most of life as long as it
endured.†d The same observation is made by BOCCACE with regard to the plague of
FLORENCE. A like principle makes soldiers, during war, be more addicted to riot
and expence, than any other race of men.†e Present pleasure is always of
importance; and whatever diminishes the importance of all other objects must
bestow on it an additional influence and value.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 51/55 mp. 177 gp. 228
The second philosophical consideration, which may often have an influence on the
affections, is derived from a comparison of our own condition with the condition
of others. This comparison we are continually making, even in common life; but
the misfortune is, that we are rather apt to compare our situation with that of
our superiors, than with that of our inferiors. A philosopher corrects this
natural infirmity, by turning his view to the other side, in order to render
himself easy in the situation, to which fortune has confined him. There are few
people, who are not susceptible of some consolation from this reflection,
though, to a very good-natured man, the view of human miseries should rather
produce sorrow than comfort, and add, to his lamentations for his own
misfortunes, a deep compassion for those of others. Such is the imperfection,
even of the best of these philosophical topics of consolation.†6
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 52/55 mp. 178 gp. 229
I shall conclude this subject with observing, that, though virtue be undoubtedly
the best choice, when it is attainable; yet such is the disorder and confusion
of human affairs, that no perfect or regular distribution of happiness and
misery is ever, in this life, to be expected. Not only the goods of fortune, and
the endowments of the body (both of which are important), not only these
advantages, I say, are unequally divided between the virtuous and vicious, but
even the mind itself partakes, in some degree, of this disorder, and the most
worthy character, by the very constitution of the passions, enjoys not always
the highest felicity.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 53/55 mp. 178 gp. 230
It is observable, that, though every bodily pain proceeds from some disorder in
the part or organ, yet the pain is not always proportioned to the disorder; but
is greater or less, according to the greater or less sensibility of the part,
upon which the noxious humours exert their influence. A tooth-ach produces more
violent convulsions of pain than a phthisis or a dropsy. In like manner, with
regard to the economy of the mind, we may observe, that all vice is indeed
pernicious; yet the disturbance or pain is not measured out by nature with exact
proportion to the degree of vice, nor is the man of highest virtue, even
abstracting from external accidents, always the most happy. A gloomy and
melancholy disposition is certainly, to our sentiments, a vice or imperfection;
but as it may be accompanied with great sense of honour and great integrity, it
may be found in very worthy characters; though it is sufficient alone to
imbitter life, and render the person affected with it completely miserable. On
the other hand, a selfish villain may possess a spring and alacrity of temper, a
certain†f gaiety of heart, which is indeed a good quality, but which is rewarded
much beyond its merit, and when attended with good fortune, will compensate for
the uneasiness and remorse arising from all the other vices.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 54/55 mp. 179 gp. 230
I shall add, as an observation to the same purpose, that, if a man be liable to
a vice or imperfection, it may often happen, that a good quality, which he
possesses along with it, will render him more miserable, than if he were
completely vicious. A person of such imbecility of temper as to be easily broken
by affliction, is more unhappy for being endowed with a generous and friendly
disposition, which gives him a lively concern for others, and exposes him the
more to fortune and accidents. A sense of shame, in an imperfect character, is
certainly a virtue; but produces great uneasiness and remorse, from which the
abandoned villain is entirely free. A very amorous complexion, with a heart
incapable of friendship, is happier than the same excess in love, with a
generosity of temper, which transports a man beyond himself, and renders him a
total slave to the object of his passion.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Para. 55/55 mp. 180 gp. 231
In a word, human life is more governed by fortune than by reason; is to be
regarded more as a dull pastime than as a serious occupation; and is more
influenced by particular humour, than by general principles. Shall we engage
ourselves in it with passion and anxiety? It is not worthy of so much concern.
Shall we be indifferent about what happens? We lose all the pleasure of the game
by our phlegm and carelessness. While we are reasoning concerning life, life is
gone; and death, though perhaps they receive him differently, yet treats alike
the fool and the philosopher. To reduce life to exact rule and method, is
commonly a painful, oft a fruitless occupation: And is it not also a proof, that
we overvalue the prize for which we contend? Even to reason so carefully
concerning it, and to fix with accuracy its just idea, would be overvaluing it,
were it not that, to some tempers, this occupation is one of the most amusing,
in which life could possibly be employed.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 1 mp. 166 gp. 219
†1 Were I not afraid of appearing too philosophical, I should remind my reader
of that famous doctrine, supposed to be fully proved in modern times, "That
tastes and colours, and all other sensible qualities, lie not in the bodies, but
merely in the senses." The case is the same with beauty and deformity, virtue
and vice. This doctrine, however, takes off no more from the reality of the
latter qualities, than from that of the former; nor need it give any umbrage
either to critics or moralists. Though colours were allowed to lie only in the
eye, would dyers or painters ever be less regarded or esteemed? There is a
sufficient uniformity in the senses and feelings of mankind, to make all these
qualities the objects of art and reasoning, and to have the greatest influence
on life and manners. And as it is certain, that the discovery above-mentioned in
natural philosophy, makes no alteration on action and conduct; why should a like
discovery in moral philosophy make any alteration?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 2 mp. 173 gp. 225
†2 PLUT. de ira cohibenda.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 3 mp. 174 gp. 226
†3 PLUT. Lacon. Apophtheg.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 4 mp. 174 gp. 226
†4 TUSC. Quest. lib. v. 40.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 5 mp. 175 gp. 227
†5 De exilio.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 1/14 mp. 177 gp. 229
†6 The Sceptic, perhaps, carries the matter too far, when he limits all
philosophical topics and reflections to these two. There seem to be others,
whose truth is undeniable, and whose natural tendency is to tranquillize and
soften all the passions. Philosophy greedily seizes these, studies them, weighs
them, commits them to the memory, and familiarizes them to the mind: And their
influence on tempers, which are thoughtful, gentle, and moderate, may be
considerable. But what is their influence, you will say, if the temper be
antecedently disposed after the same manner as that to which they pretend to
form it? They may, at least, fortify that temper, and furnish it with views, by
which it may entertain and nourish itself. Here are a few examples of such
philosophical reflections.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 2/14 mp. 177 gp. 229
1. Is it not certain, that every condition has concealed ills? Then why envy any
body?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 3/14 mp. 177 gp. 229
2. Every one has known ills; and there is a compensation throughout. Why not be
contented with the present?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 4/14 mp. 177 gp. 229
3. Custom deadens the sense both of the good and the ill, and levels every
thing.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 5/14 mp. 178 gp. 229
4. Health and humour all. The rest of little consequence, except these be
affected.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 6/14 mp. 178 gp. 229
5. How many other good things have I? Then why be vexed for one ill?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 7/14 mp. 178 gp. 229
6. How many are happy in the condition of which I complain? How many envy me?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 8/14 mp. 178 gp. 229
7. Every good must be paid for: Fortune by labour, favour by flattery. Would I
keep the price, yet have the commodity?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 9/14 mp. 178 gp. 229
8. Expect not too great happiness in life. Human nature admits it not.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 10/14 mp. 178 gp. 229
9. Propose not a happiness too complicated. But does that depend on me? Yes: The
first choice does. Life is like a game: One may choose the game: And passion, by
degrees, seizes the proper object.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 11/14 mp. 178 gp. 229
10. Anticipate by your hopes and fancy future consolation, which time infallibly
brings to every affliction.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 12/14 mp. 178 gp. 229
11. I desire to be rich. Why? That I may possess many fine objects; houses,
gardens, equipage, &c. How many fine objects does nature offer to every one
without expence? If enjoyed, sufficient. If not: See the effect of custom or of
temper, which would soon take off the relish of the riches.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 13/14 mp. 179 gp. 229
12. I desire fame. Let this occur: If I act well, I shall have the esteem of all
my acquaintance. And what is all the rest to me?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Foot. 6 Para. 14/14 mp. 179 gp. 229
These reflections are so obvious, that it is a wonder they occur not to every
man: So convincing, that it is a wonder they persuade not every man. But perhaps
they do occur to and persuade most men; when they consider human life, by a
general and calm survey: But where any real, affecting incident happens; when
passion is awakened, fancy agitated, example draws, and counsel urges; the
philosopher is lost in the man, and he seeks in vain for that persuasion which
before seemed so firm and unshaken. What remedy for this inconvenience? Assist
yourself by a frequent perusal of the entertaining moralists: Have recourse to
the learning of PLUTARCH, the imagination of LUCIAN, the eloquence of CICERO,
the wit of SENECA, the gaiety of MONTAIGNE, the sublimity of SHAFTESBURY. Moral
precepts, so couched, strike deep, and fortify the mind against the illusions of
passion. But trust not altogether to external aid: By habit and study acquire
that philosophical temper which both gives force to reflection, and by rendering
a great part of your happiness independent, takes off the edge from all
disorderly passions, and tranquillizes the mind. Despise not these helps; but
confide not too much in them neither; unless nature has been favourable in the
temper, with which she has endowed you.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Var. a mp. 627 gp. 223
†a The remainder of this sentence does not occur in Editions C and D.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Var. b mp. 627 gp. 226
†b This paragraph does not occur in Editions C and D.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Var. c mp. 627 gp. 227
†c The two following paragraphs do not occur in Editions C and D.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Var. d mp. 627 gp. 228
†d This sentence does not occur in Editions C and D.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Var. e mp. 627 gp. 228
†e In place of this sentence Editions C and D read as follows: And 'tis
observable, in this Kingdom, that long Peace, by producing Security, has much
alter'd them in this Particular, and has quite remov'd our Officers from the
generous Character of their Profession.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 18 Var. f mp. 627 gp. 230
†f Gaiete de Coeur: Edition C.
Essay 19. OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 1/22 mp. 181 gp. 231
ESSAY XIX: OF POLYGAMY AND DIVORCES As marriage is an engagement entered into by
mutual consent, and has for its end the propagation of the species, it is
evident, that it must be susceptible of all the variety of conditions, which
consent establishes, provided they be not contrary to this end.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 2/22 mp. 181 gp. 231
A man, in conjoining himself to a woman, is bound to her according to the terms
of his engagement: In begetting children, he is bound, by all the ties of nature
and humanity, to provide for their subsistence and education. When he has
performed these two parts of duty, no one can reproach him with injustice or
injury. And as the terms of his engagement, as well as the methods of subsisting
his offspring, may be various, it is mere superstition to imagine, that marriage
can be entirely uniform, and will admit only of one mode or form. Did not human
laws restrain the natural liberty of men, every particular marriage would be as
different as contracts or bargains of any other kind or species.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 3/22 mp. 182 gp. 232
As circumstances vary, and the laws propose different advantages, we find, that,
in different times and places, they impose different conditions on this
important contract. In TONQUIN, it is usual for the sailors, when the ships come
into harbour, to marry for the season; and notwithstanding this precarious
engagement, they are assured, it is said, of the strictest fidelity to their
bed, as well as in the whole management of their affairs, from those temporary
spouses.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 4/22 mp. 182 gp. 232
I cannot, at present, recollect my authorities; but I have somewhere read, that
the republic of ATHENS, having lost many of its citizens by war and pestilence,
allowed every man to marry two wives, in order the sooner to repair the waste
which had been made by these calamities. The poet EURIPIDES happened to be
coupled to two noisy Vixens who so plagued him with their jealousies and
quarrels, that he became ever after a professed woman-hater; and is the only
theatrical writer, perhaps the only poet, that ever entertained an aversion to
the sex.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 5/22 mp. 182 gp. 232
In that agreeable romance, called the History of the SEVARAMBIANS, where a great
many men and a few women are supposed to be shipwrecked on a desert coast; the
captain of the troop, in order to obviate those endless quarrels which arose,
regulates their marriages after the following manner: He takes a handsome female
to himself alone; assigns one to every couple of inferior officers; and to five
of the lowest rank he gives one wife in common.†a
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 6/22 mp. 183 gp. 232
The ancient BRITONS had a singular kind of marriage, to be met with among no
other people. Any number of them, as ten or a dozen, joined in a society
together, which was perhaps requisite for mutual defence in those barbarous
times. In order to link this society the closer, they took an equal number of
wives in common; and whatever children were born, were reputed to belong to all
of them, and were accordingly provided for by the whole community.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 7/22 mp. 183 gp. 233
Among the inferior creatures, nature herself, being the supreme legislator,
prescribes all the laws which regulate their marriages, and varies those laws
according to the different circumstances of the creature. Where she furnishes,
with ease, food and defence to the newborn animal, the present embrace
terminates the marriage; and the care of the offspring is committed entirely to
the female. Where the food is of more difficult purchase, the marriage continues
for one season, till the common progeny can provide for itself; and then the
union immediately dissolves, and leaves each of the parties free to enter into a
new engagement at the ensuing season. But nature, having endowed man with
reason, has not so exactly regulated every article of his marriage contract, but
has left him to adjust them, by his own prudence, according to his particular
circumstances and situation. Municipal laws are a supply to the wisdom of each
individual; and, at the same time, by restraining the natural liberty of men,
make private interest submit to the interest of the public. All regulations,
therefore, on this head are equally lawful, and equally conformable to the
principles of nature; though they are not all equally convenient, or equally
useful to society. The laws may allow of polygamy, as among the Eastern nations;
or of voluntary divorces, as among the GREEKS and ROMANS; or they may confine
one man to one woman, during the whole course of their lives, as among the
modern EUROPEANS. It may not be disagreeable to consider the advantages and
disadvantages, which result from each of these institutions.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 8/22 mp. 184 gp. 233
The advocates for polygamy may recommend it as the only effectual remedy for the
disorders of love, and the only expedient for freeing men from that slavery to
the females, which the natural violence of our passions has imposed upon us. By
this means alone can we regain our right of sovereignty; and, sating our
appetite, re-establish the authority of reason in our minds, and, of
consequence, our own authority in our families. Man, like a weak sovereign,
being unable to support himself against the wiles and intrigues of his subjects,
must play one faction against another, and become absolute by the mutual
jealousy of the females. To divide and to govern is an universal maxim; and by
neglecting it, the EUROPEANS undergo a more grievous and a more ignominious
slavery than the TURKS or PERSIANS, who are subjected indeed to a sovereign,
that lies at a distance from them, but in their domestic affairs rule with an
uncontroulable sway.†b
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 9/22 mp. 184 gp. 234
On the other hand, it may be urged with better reason, that this sovereignty of
the male is a real usurpation, and destroys that nearness of rank, not to say
equality, which nature has established between the sexes. We are, by nature,
their lovers, their friends, their patrons: Would we willingly exchange such
endearing appellations, for the barbarous title of master and tyrant?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 10/22 mp. 184 gp. 234
In what capacity shall we gain by this inhuman proceeding? As lovers, or as
husbands? The lover, is totally annihilated; and courtship, the most agreeable
scene in life, can no longer have place, where women have not the free disposal
of themselves, but are bought and sold, like the meanest animal. The husband is
as little a gainer, having found the admirable secret of extinguishing every
part of love, except its jealousy. No rose without its thorn; but he must be a
foolish wretch indeed, that throws away the rose and preserves only the thorn.†c
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 11/22 mp. 184 gp. 234
But the ASIATIC manners are as destructive to friendship as to love. Jealousy
excludes men from all intimacies and familiarities with each other. No one dares
bring his friend to his house or table, lest he bring a lover to his numerous
wives. Hence all over the east, each family is as much separate from another, as
if they were so many distinct kingdoms. No wonder then, that SOLOMON, living
like an eastern prince, with his seven hundred wives, and three hundred
concubines, without one friend, could write so pathetically concerning the
vanity of the world. Had he tried the secret of one wife or mistress, a few
friends, and a great many companions, he might have found life somewhat more
agreeable. Destroy love and friendship; what remains in the world worth
accepting?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 12/22 mp. 185 gp. 235
†d The bad education of children, especially children of condition, is another
unavoidable consequence of these eastern institutions. Those who pass the early
part of life among slaves, are only qualified to be, themselves, slaves and
tyrants; and in every future intercourse, either with their inferiors or
superiors, are apt to forget the natural equality of mankind. What attention,
too, can it be supposed a parent, whose seraglio affords him fifty sons, will
give to instilling principles of morality or science into a progeny, with whom
he himself is scarcely acquainted, and whom he loves with so divided an
affection? Barbarism, therefore, appears, from reason as well as experience, to
be the inseparable attendant of polygamy.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 13/22 mp. 185 gp. 235
To render polygamy more odious, I need not recount the frightful effects of
jealousy, and the constraint in which it holds the fair-sex all over the east.
In those countries men are not allowed to have any commerce with the females,
not even physicians, when sickness may be supposed to have extinguished all
wanton passions in the bosoms of the fair, and, at the same time, has rendered
them unfit objects of desire. TOURNEFORT tells us, that, when he was brought
into the grand signior's seraglio as a physician, he was not a little surprized,
in looking along a gallery, to see a great number of naked arms, standing out
from the sides of the room. He could not imagine what this could mean; till he
was told, that those arms, belonged to bodies, which he must cure, without
knowing any more about them, than what he could learn from the arms. He was not
allowed to ask a question of the patient, or even of her attendants, lest he
might find it necessary to enquire concerning circumstances, which the delicacy
of the seraglio allows not to be revealed. Hence physicians in the east pretend
to know all diseases from the pulse; as our quacks in EUROPE undertake to cure a
person merely from seeing his water. I suppose, had Monsieur TOURNEFORT been of
this latter kind, he would not, in CONSTANTINOPLE, have been allowed by the
jealous TURKS to be furnished with materials requisite for exercising his art.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 14/22 mp. 186 gp. 236
In another country, where polygamy is also allowed, they render their wives
cripples, and make their feet of no use to them, in order to confine them to
their own houses. But it will, perhaps, appear strange, that, in a EUROPEAN
country, jealousy can yet be carried to such a height, that it is indecent so
much as to suppose that a woman of rank can have feet or legs.†e Witness the
following story, which we have from very good authority.†1 When the mother of
the late king of SPAIN was on her road towards MADRID, she passed through a
little town in SPAIN, famous for its manufactory of gloves and stockings. The
magistrates of the place thought they could not better express their joy for the
reception of their new queen, than by presenting her with a sample of those
commodities, for which alone their town was remarkable. The major domo, who
conducted the princess, received the gloves very graciously: But when the
stockings were presented, he flung them away with great indignation, and
severely reprimanded the magistrates for this egregious piece of indecency.
Know, says he, that a queen of SPAIN has no legs. The young queen, who, at that
time, understood the language but imperfectly, and had often been frightened
with stories of SPANISH jealousy, imagined that they were to cut off her legs.
Upon which she fell a crying, and begged them to conduct her back to GERMANY;
for that she never could endure the operation: And it was with some difficulty
they could appease her. PHILIP IV. is said never in his life to have laughed
heartily, but at the recital of this story.†f
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 15/22 mp. 187 gp. 236
Having rejected polygamy, and matched one man with one woman, let us now
consider what duration we shall assign to their union, and whether we shall
admit of those voluntary divorces, which were customary among the GREEKS and
ROMANS. Those who would defend this practice may employ the following reasons.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 16/22 mp. 187 gp. 237
How often does disgust and aversion arise after marriage, from the most trivial
accidents, or from an incompatibility of humour; where time, instead of curing
the wounds, proceeding from mutual injuries, festers them every day the more, by
new quarrels and reproaches? Let us separate hearts, which were not made to
associate together. Each of them may, perhaps, find another for which it is
better fitted. At least, nothing can be more cruel than to preserve, by
violence, an union, which, at first, was made by mutual love, and is now, in
effect, dissolved by mutual hatred.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 17/22 mp. 187 gp. 237
But the liberty of divorces is not only a cure to hatred and domestic quarrels:
It is also an admirable preservative against them, and the only secret for
keeping alive that love, which first united the married couple. The heart of man
delights in liberty: The very image of constraint is grievous to it: When you
would confine it by violence, to what would otherwise have been its choice, the
inclination immediately changes, and desire is turned into aversion. If the
public interest will not allow us to enjoy in polygamy that variety, which is so
agreeable in love; at least, deprive us not of that liberty, which is so
essentially requisite. In vain you tell me, that I had my choice of the person,
with whom I would conjoin myself. I had my choice, it is true, of my prison; but
this is but a small comfort, since it must still be a prison.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 18/22 mp. 188 gp. 237
Such are the arguments which may be urged in favour of divorces: But there seem
to be these three unanswerable objections against them. First, What must become
of the children, upon the separation of the parents? Must they be committed to
the care of a step-mother; and instead of the fond attention and concern of a
parent, feel all the indifference or hatred of a stranger or an enemy? These
inconveniencies are sufficiently felt, where nature has made the divorce by the
doom inevitable to all mortals: And shall we seek to multiply those
inconveniencies, by multiplying divorces, and putting it in the power of
parents, upon every caprice, to render their posterity miserable?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 19/22 mp. 188 gp. 238
Secondly, If it be true, on the one hand, that the heart of man naturally
delights in liberty, and hates every thing to which it is confined; it is also
true, on the other, that the heart of man naturally submits to necessity, and
soon loses an inclination, when there appears an absolute impossibility of
gratifying it. These principles of human nature, you'll say, are contradictory:
But what is man but a heap of contradictions! Though it is remarkable, that,
where principles are, after this manner, contrary in their operation, they do
not always destroy each other; but the one or the other may predominate on any
particular occasion, according as circumstances are more or less favourable to
it. For instance, love is a restless and impatient passion, full of caprices and
variations: arising in a moment from a feature, from an air, from nothing, and
suddenly extinguishing after the same manner. Such a passion requires liberty
above all things; and therefore ELOISA had reason, when, in order to preserve
this passion, she refused to marry her beloved ABELARD.
How oft, when prest to marriage, have I said,
Curse on all laws but those which love has made:
Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
But friendship is a calm and sedate affection, conducted by reason and cemented
by habit; springing from long acquaintance and mutual obligations; without
jealousies or fears, and without those feverish fits of heat and cold, which
cause such an agreeable torment in the amorous passion. So sober an affection,
therefore, as friendship, rather thrives under constraint, and never rises to
such a height, as when any strong interest or necessity binds two persons
together, and gives them some common object of pursuit.†g We need not,
therefore, be afraid of drawing the marriage-knot, which chiefly subsists by
friendship, the closest possible. The amity between the persons, where it is
solid and sincere, will rather gain by it: And where it is wavering and
uncertain, this is the best expedient for fixing it. How many frivolous quarrels
and disgusts are there, which people of common prudence endeavour to forget,
when they lie under a necessity of passing their lives together; but which would
soon be inflamed into the most deadly hatred, were they pursued to the utmost,
under the prospect of an easy separation?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 20/22 mp. 189 gp. 239
In the third place, we must consider, that nothing is more dangerous than to
unite two persons so closely in all their interests and concerns, as man and
wife, without rendering the union entire and total. The least possibility of a
separate interest must be the source of endless quarrels and suspicions.†h The
wife, not secure of her establishment, will still be driving some separate end
or project; and the husband's selfishness, being accompanied with more power,
may be still more dangerous.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 21/22 mp. 189 gp. 239
Should these reasons against voluntary divorces be deemed insufficient, I hope
no body will pretend to refuse the testimony of experience. At the time when
divorces were most frequent among the ROMANS, marriages were most rare; and
AUGUSTUS was obliged, by penal laws, to force men of fashion into the married
state: A circumstance which is scarcely to be found in any other age or
nation.†i The more ancient laws of ROME, which prohibited divorces, are
extremely praised by DIONYSIUS HALYCARNASSAEUS.†2 Wonderful was the harmony,
says the historian, which this inseparable union of interests produced between
married persons; while each of them considered the inevitable necessity by which
they were linked together, and abandoned all prospect of any other choice or
establishment.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Para. 22/22 mp. 190 gp. 239
The exclusion of polygamy and divorces sufficiently recommends our present
EUROPEAN practice with regard to marriage.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Foot. 1 mp. 186 gp. 236
†1 Memoirs de la cour d'ESPAGNE par Madame d'AUNOY.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Foot. 2 mp. 190 gp. 239
†2 Lib. ii. 25.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. a mp. 627 gp. 232
†a Editions C to P add the following: Could the greatest legislator, in such
circumstances, have contrived matters with greater wisdom?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. b mp. 627 gp. 234
†b Editions C to P add the following: An honest TURK, who should come from his
seraglio, where every one trembles before him, would be surprized to see SYLVIA
in her drawing-room, adored by all the beaus and pretty fellows about town, and
he would certainly take her for some mighty and despotic queen, surrounded by
her guard of obsequious slaves and eunuchs.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. c mp. 627 gp. 234
†c C to N add the following paragraph: I would not willingly insist upon it as
an advantage in our EUROPEAN customs, what was observed by MEHEMET EFFENDI the
last TURKISH ambassador in FRANCE. We TURKS, says he, are great simpletons in
comparison of the Christians. We are at the expense and trouble of keeping a
seraglio, each in his own house: But you ease yourselves of this burden, and
have your seraglio in your friends' houses. The known virtue of our BRITISH
ladies frees them sufficiently from this imputation: And the TURK himself, had
he travelled among us, must have owned, that our free commerce with the fair
sex, more than any other invention, embellishes, enlivens, and polishes society.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. d mp. 628 gp. 235
†d This paragraph does not occur in Editions C to K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. e mp. 628 gp. 236
†e Editions C to P add the following: A SPANIARD is jealous of the very thoughts
of those who approach his wife; and, if possible, will prevent his being
dishonoured, even by the wantonness of imagination.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. f Para. 1/2 mp. 628 gp. 236
†f Editions C to P add as follows: If a SPANISH lady must not be supposed to
have legs, what must be supposed of a TURKISH lady? She must not be supposed to
have a being at all. Accordingly, 'tis esteemed a piece of rudeness and
indecency at CONSTANTINOPLE, ever to make mention of a man's wives before him.†1
In EUROPE, 'tis true, fine bred people make it also a rule never to talk of
their wives. But the reason is not founded on our jealousy. I suppose it is
because we should be apt, were it not for this rule, to become troublesome to
company, by talking too much of them.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. f Para. 2/2 mp. 628 gp. 237
The author of the PERSIAN letters has given a different reason for this polite
maxim. Men, says he, never care to mention their wives in company, lest they
should talk of them before people, who are better acquainted with them than
themselves.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. f Foot. 1 mp. 628 gp. 236
†1 Memoires de Marquis d'Argens.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. g mp. 628 gp. 238
†g Editions C to P add as follows: Let us consider then, whether love or
friendship should most predominate in marriage; and we shall soon determine
whether liberty or constraint be most favourable to it. The happiest marriages,
to be sure, are found where love, by long acquaintance, is consolidated into
friendship. Whoever dreams of raptures and extasies beyond the honey-month, is a
fool. Even romances themselves, with all their liberty of fiction, are obliged
to drop their lovers the very day of their marriage, and find it easier to
support the passion for a dozen years under coldness, disdain and difficulties,
than a week under possession and security.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. h mp. 629 gp. 239
†h In place of "The wife, not secure of her establishment, will still be driving
some separate end or project," Editions P to C read: "What Dr. PARNEL calls, The
little pilf'ring temper of a wife, will be doubly ruinous."
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 19 Var. i mp. 629 gp. 239
†i Editions C and D omit the remainder of the paragraph.
Essay 20. OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT IN WRITING
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 1/12 mp. 191 gp. 240
ESSAY XX: OF SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT IN WRITING
Fine writing, according to Mr. ADDISON, consists of sentiments, which are
natural, without being obvious. There cannot be a juster, and more concise
definition of fine writing.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 2/12 mp. 191 gp. 240
Sentiments, which are merely natural, affect not the mind with any pleasure, and
seem not worthy of our attention. The pleasantries of a waterman, the
observations of a peasant, the ribaldry of a porter or hackney coachman, all of
these are natural, and disagreeable. What an insipid comedy should we make of
the chit-chat of the tea-table, copied faithfully and at full length? Nothing
can please persons of taste, but nature drawn with all her graces and ornaments,
la belle nature; or if we copy low life, the strokes must be strong and
remarkable, and must convey a lively image to the mind. The absurd naivety†a of
Sancho Pancho is represented in such inimitable colours by CERVANTES, that it
entertains as much as the picture of the most magnanimous hero or softest lover.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 3/12 mp. 192 gp. 240
The case is the same with orators, philosophers, critics, or any author who
speaks in his own person, without introducing other speakers or actors. If his
language be not elegant, his observations uncommon, his sense strong and
masculine, he will in vain boast his nature and simplicity. He may be correct;
but he never will be agreeable. It is the unhappiness of such authors, that they
are never blamed or censured. The good fortune of a book, and that of a man, are
not the same. The secret deceiving path of life, which HORACE talks of,
fallentis semita vitae, may be the happiest lot of the one; but is the greatest
misfortune, which the other can possibly fall into.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 4/12 mp. 192 gp. 240
On the other hand, productions, which are merely surprising, without being
natural, can never give any lasting entertainment to the mind. To draw chimeras
is not, properly speaking, to copy or imitate. The justness of the
representation is lost, and the mind is displeased to find a picture, which
bears no resemblance to any original. Nor are such excessive refinements more
agreeable in the epistolary or philosophic style, than in the epic or tragic.
Too much ornament is a fault in every kind of production. Uncommon expressions,
strong flashes of wit, pointed similies, and epigrammatic turns, especially when
they recur too frequently, are a disfigurement, rather than any embellishment of
discourse. As the eye, in surveying a GOTHIC building, is distracted by the
multiplicity of ornaments, and loses the whole by its minute attention to the
parts; so the mind, in perusing a work overstocked with wit, is fatigued and
disgusted with the constant endeavour to shine and surprize. This is the case
where a writer overabounds in wit, even though that wit, in itself, should be
just and agreeable. But it commonly happens to such writers, that they seek for
their favourite ornaments, even where the subject does not afford them; and by
that means, have twenty insipid conceits for one thought which is really
beautiful.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 5/12 mp. 193 gp. 241
There is no subject in critical learning more copious, than this of the just
mixture of simplicity and refinement in writing; and therefore, not to wander in
too large a field, I shall confine myself to a few general observations on that
head.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 6/12 mp. 193 gp. 241
First, I observe, That though excesses of both kinds are to be avoided, and
though a proper medium ought to be studied in all productions; yet this medium
lies not in a point, but admits of a considerable latitude. Consider the wide
distance, in this respect, between Mr. POPE and LUCRETIUS. These seem to lie in
the two greatest extremes of refinement and simplicity, in which a poet can
indulge himself, without being guilty of any blameable excess. All this interval
may be filled with poets, who may differ from each other, but may be equally
admirable, each in his peculiar stile and manner. CORNEILLE and CONGREVE, who
carry their wit and refinement somewhat farther than Mr. POPE (if poets of so
different a kind can be compared together), and SOPHOCLES and TERENCE, who are
more simple than LUCRETIUS, seem to have gone out of that medium, in which the
most perfect productions are found, and to be guilty of some excess in these
opposite characters. Of all the great poets, VIRGIL and RACINE, in my opinion,
lie nearest the center, and are the farthest removed from both the extremities.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 7/12 mp. 194 gp. 241
My second observation on this head is, That it is very difficult, if not
impossible, to explain by words, where the just medium lies between the excesses
of simplicity and refinement, or to give any rule by which we can know precisely
the bounds between the fault and the beauty. A critic may not only discourse
very judiciously on this head, without instructing his readers, but even without
understanding the matter perfectly himself. There is not a finer piece of
criticism than the dissertation on pastorals by FONTENELLE; in which, by a
number of reflections and philosophical reasonings, he endeavours to fix the
just medium, which is suitable to that species of writing. But let any one read
the pastorals of that author, and he will be convinced, that this judicious
critic, notwithstanding his fine reasonings, had a false taste, and fixed the
point of perfection much nearer the extreme of refinement than pastoral poetry
will admit of. The sentiments of his shepherds are better suited to the
toilettes of PARIS, than to the forests of ARCADIA. But this it is impossible to
discover from his critical reasonings. He blames all excessive painting and
ornament as much as VIRGIL could have done, had that great poet writ a
dissertation on this species of poetry. However different the tastes of men,
their general discourse on these subjects is commonly the same. No criticism can
be instructive, which descends not to particulars, and is not full of examples
and illustrations. It is allowed on all hands, that beauty, as well as virtue,
always lies in a medium; but where this medium is placed, is the great question,
and can never be sufficiently explained by general reasonings.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 8/12 mp. 194 gp. 242
I shall deliver it as a third observation on this subject, That we ought to be
more on our guard against the excess of refinement than that of simplicity; and
that because the former excess is both less beautiful, and more dangerous than
the latter.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 9/12 mp. 195 gp. 242
It is a certain rule, that wit and passion are entirely incompatible. When the
affections are moved, there is no place for the imagination. The mind of man
being naturally limited, it is impossible that all its faculties can operate at
once: And the more any one predominates, the less room is there for the others
to exert their vigour. For this reason, a greater degree of simplicity is
required in all compositions, where men, and actions, and passions are painted,
than in such as consist of reflections and observations. And as the former
species of writing is the more engaging and beautiful, one may safely, upon this
account, give the preference to the extreme of simplicity above that of
refinement.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 10/12 mp. 195 gp. 242
We may also observe, that those compositions, which we read the oftenest, and
which every man of taste has got by heart, have the recommendation of
simplicity, and have nothing surprizing in the thought, when divested of that
elegance of expression, and harmony of numbers, with which it is cloathed. If
the merit of the composition lie in a point of wit; it may strike at first; but
the mind anticipates the thought in the second perusal, and is no longer
affected by it. When I read an epigram of MARTIAL, the first line recalls the
whole; and I have no pleasure in repeating to myself what I know already. But
each line, each word in CATULLUS, has its merit; and I am never tired with the
perusal of him. It is sufficient to run over COWLEY once: But PARNEL, after the
fiftieth reading, is as fresh as at the first. Besides, it is with books as with
women, where a certain plainness of manner and of dress is more engaging than
that glare of paint and airs and apparel, which may dazzle the eye, but reaches
not the affections. TERENCE is a modest and bashful beauty, to whom we grant
every thing, because he assumes nothing, and whose purity and nature make a
durable, though not a violent impression on us.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 11/12 mp. 196 gp. 243
But refinement, as it is the less beautiful, so is it the more dangerous
extreme, and what we are the aptest to fall into. Simplicity passes for dulness,
when it is not accompanied with great elegance and propriety. On the contrary,
there is something surprizing in a blaze of wit and conceit. Ordinary readers
are mightily struck with it, and falsely imagine it to be the most difficult, as
well as most excellent way of writing. SENECA abounds with agreeable faults,
says QUINTILIAN, abundat dulcibus vitiis; and for that reason is the more
dangerous, and the more apt to pervert the taste of the young and inconsiderate.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Para. 12/12 mp. 196 gp. 243
I shall add, that the excess of refinement is now more to be guarded against
than ever; because it is the extreme, which men are the most apt to fall into,
after learning has made some progress, and after eminent writers have appeared
in every species of composition. The endeavour to please by novelty leads men
wide of simplicity and nature, and fills their writings with affectation and
conceit.†b It was thus the ASIATIC eloquence degenerated so much from the ATTIC:
It was thus the age of CLAUDIUS and NERO became so much inferior to that of
AUGUSTUS in taste and genius: And perhaps there are, at present, some symptoms
of a like degeneracy of taste, in FRANCE as well as in ENGLAND.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Var. a mp. 629 gp. 240
†a Editions C to K: Naivety, a word which I have borrow'd from the French, and
which is wanted in our language.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 20 Var. b mp. 629 gp. 243
†b The first clause of this sentence was added in Edition K.
Essay 21. OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 1/35 mp. 197 gp. 244
†a ESSAY XXI: OF NATIONAL CHARACTERS
The vulgar are apt to carry all national characters to extremes; and having once
established it as a principle, that any people are knavish, or cowardly, or
ignorant, they will admit of no exception, but comprehend every individual under
the same censure. Men of sense condemn these undistinguishing judgments: Though
at the same time, they allow, that each nation has a peculiar set of manners,
and that some particular qualities are more frequently to be met with among one
people than among their neighbours. The common people in SWITZERLAND have
probably more honesty than those of the same rank in IRELAND; and every prudent
man will, from that circumstance alone, make a difference in the trust which he
reposes in each. We have reason to expect greater wit and gaiety in a FRENCHMAN
than in a SPANIARD; though CERVANTES was born in SPAIN. An ENGLISHMAN will
naturally be supposed to have more knowledge than a DANE; though TYCHO BRAHE was
a native of DENMARK.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 2/35 mp. 198 gp. 244
Different reasons are assigned for these national characters; while some account
for them from moral, others from physical causes. By moral causes, I mean all
circumstances, which are fitted to work on the mind as motives or reasons, and
which render a peculiar set of manners habitual to us. Of this kind are, the
nature of the government, the revolutions of public affairs, the plenty or
penury in which the people live, the situation of the nation with regard to its
neighbours, and such like circumstances. By physical causes I mean those
qualities of the air and climate, which are supposed to work insensibly on the
temper, by altering the tone and habit of the body, and giving a particular
complexion, which, though reflection and reason may sometimes overcome it, will
yet prevail among the generality of mankind, and have an influence on their
manners.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 3/35 mp. 198 gp. 244
That the character of a nation will much depend on moral causes, must be evident
to the most superficial observer; since a nation is nothing but a collection of
individuals, and the manners of individuals are frequently determined by these
causes. As poverty and hard labour debase the minds of the common people, and
render them unfit for any science and ingenious profession; so where any
government becomes very oppressive to all its subjects, it must have a
proportional effect on their temper and genius, and must banish all the liberal
arts from among them.†b
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 4/35 mp. 198 gp. 245
The same principle of moral causes fixes the character of different professions,
and alters even that disposition, which the particular members receive from the
hand of nature. A soldier and a priest are different characters, in all nations,
and all ages; and this difference is founded on circumstances, whose operation
is eternal and unalterable.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 5/35 mp. 199 gp. 245
The uncertainty of their life makes soldiers lavish and generous, as well as
brave: Their idleness, together with the large societies, which they form in
camps or garrisons, inclines them to pleasure and gallantry: By their frequent
change of company, they acquire good breeding and an openness of behaviour:
Being employed only against a public and an open enemy, they become candid,
honest, and undesigning: And as they use more the labour of the body than that
of the mind, they are commonly thoughtless and ignorant.†1
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 6/35 mp. 199 gp. 245
It is a trite, but not altogether a false maxim, that priests of all religions
are the same; and though the character of the profession will not, in every
instance, prevail over the personal character, yet is it sure always to
predominate with the greater number. For as chymists observe, that spirits, when
raised to a certain height, are all the same, from whatever materials they be
extracted; so these men, being elevated above humanity, acquire a uniform
character, which is entirely their own, and which, in my opinion, is, generally
speaking, not the most amiable that is to be met with in human society. It is,
in most points, opposite to that of a soldier; as is the way of life, from which
it is derived.†2
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 7/35 mp. 200 gp. 246
As to physical causes, I am inclined to doubt altogether of their operation in
this particular; nor do I think, that men owe any thing of their temper or
genius to the air, food, or climate. I confess, that the contrary opinion may
justly, at first sight, seem probable; since we find, that these circumstances
have an influence over every other animal, and that even those creatures, which
are fitted to live in all climates, such as dogs, horses, &c. do not attain the
same perfection in all. The courage of bull-dogs and game-cocks seems peculiar
to ENGLAND. FLANDERS is remarkable for large and heavy horses: SPAIN for horses
light, and of good mettle. And any breed of these creatures, transplanted from
one country to another, will soon lose the qualities, which they derived from
their native climate. It may be asked, why not the same with men?†3†e
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 8/35 mp. 202 gp. 247
There are few questions more curious than this, or which will oftener occur in
our enquiries concerning human affairs; and therefore it may be proper to give
it a full examination.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 9/35 mp. 202 gp. 248
The human mind is of a very imitative nature; nor is it possible for any set of
men to converse often together, without acquiring a similitude of manners, and
communicating to each other their vices as well as virtues. The propensity to
company and society is strong in all rational creatures; and the same
disposition, which gives us this propensity, makes us enter deeply into each
other's sentiments, and causes like passions and inclinations to run, as it
were, by contagion, through the whole club or knot of companions. Where a number
of men are united into one political body, the occasions of their intercourse
must be so frequent, for defence, commerce, and government, that, together with
the same speech or language, they must acquire a resemblance in their manners,
and have a common or national character, as well as a personal one, peculiar to
each individual. Now though nature produces all kinds of temper and
understanding in great abundance, it does not follow, that she always produces
them in like proportions, and that in every society the ingredients of industry
and indolence, valour and cowardice, humanity and brutality, wisdom and folly,
will be mixed after the same manner. In the infancy of society, if any of these
dispositions be found in greater abundance than the rest, it will naturally
prevail in the composition, and give a tincture to the national character. Or
should it be asserted, that no species of temper can reasonably be presumed to
predominate, even in those contracted societies, and that the same proportions
will always be preserved in the mixture; yet surely the persons in credit and
authority, being still a more contracted body, cannot always be presumed to be
of the same character; and their influence on the manners of the people, must,
at all times, be very considerable. If on the first establishment of a republic,
a BRUTUS should be placed in authority, and be transported with such an
enthusiasm for liberty and public good, as to overlook all the ties of nature,
as well as private interest, such an illustrious example will naturally have an
effect on the whole society, and kindle the same passion in every bosom.
Whatever it be that forms the manners of one generation, the next must imbibe a
deeper tincture of the same dye; men being more susceptible of all impressions
during infancy, and retaining these impressions as long as they remain in the
world. I assert, then, that all national characters, where they depend not on
fixed moral causes, proceed from such accidents as these, and that physical
causes have no discernible operation on the human mind.†g It is a maxim in all
philosophy, that causes, which do not appear, are to be considered as not
existing.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 10/35 mp. 204 gp. 249
If we run over the globe, or revolve the annals of history, we shall discover
every where signs of a sympathy or contagion of manners, none of the influence
of air or climate.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 11/35 mp. 204 gp. 249
First. We may observe, that, where a very extensive government has been
established for many centuries, it spreads a national character over the whole
empire, and communicates to every part a similarity of manners. Thus the CHINESE
have the greatest uniformity of character imaginable: though the air and
climate, in different parts of those vast dominions, admit of very considerable
variations.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 12/35 mp. 204 gp. 249
Secondly. In small governments, which are contiguous, the people have
notwithstanding a different character, and are often as distinguishable in their
manners as the most distant nations. ATHENS and THEBES were but a short day's
journey from each other; though the ATHENIANS were as remarkable for ingenuity,
politeness, and gaiety, as the THEBANS for dulness, rusticity, and a phlegmatic
temper. PLUTARCH, discoursing of the effects of air on the minds of men,
observes, that the inhabitants of the PIRAEUM possessed very different tempers
from those of the higher town in ATHENS, which was distant about four miles from
the former: But I believe no one attributes the difference of manners in WAPPING
and St. JAMES'S, to a difference of air or climate.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 13/35 mp. 204 gp. 249
Thirdly. The same national character commonly follows the authority of
government to a precise boundary; and upon crossing a river or passing a
mountain, one finds a new set of manners, with a new government. The
LANGUEDOCIANS and GASCONS are the gayest people in FRANCE; but whenever you pass
the PYRENEES, you are among SPANIARDS. Is it conceivable, that the qualities of
the air should change exactly with the limits of an empire, which depend so much
on the accidents of battles, negociations, and marriages?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 14/35 mp. 205 gp. 250
Fourthly. Where any set of men, scattered over distant nations, maintain a close
society or communication together, they acquire a similitude of manners, and
have but little in common with the nations amongst whom they live. Thus the JEWS
in EUROPE, and the ARMENIANS in the east, have a peculiar character; and the
former are as much noted for fraud, as the latter for probity.†4 The Jesuits, in
all Roman-catholic countries, are also observed to have a character peculiar to
themselves.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 15/35 mp. 205 gp. 250
Fifthly. Where any accident, as a difference in language or religion, keeps two
nations, inhabiting the same country, from mixing with each other, they will
preserve, during several centuries, a distinct and even opposite set of manners.
The integrity, gravity, and bravery of the TURKS, form an exact contrast to the
deceit, levity, and cowardice of the modern GREEKS.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 16/35 mp. 205 gp. 250
Sixthly. The same set of manners will follow a nation, and adhere to them over
the whole globe, as well as the same laws and language. The SPANISH, ENGLISH,
FRENCH and DUTCH colonies are all distinguishable even between the tropics.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 17/35 mp. 205 gp. 250
Seventhly. The manners of a people change very considerably from one age to
another; either by great alterations in their government, by the mixtures of new
people, or by that inconstancy, to which all human affairs are subject. The
ingenuity, industry, and activity of the ancient GREEKS have nothing in common
with the stupidity and indolence of the present inhabitants of those regions.
Candour, bravery, and love of liberty formed the character of the ancient
ROMANS; as subtilty, cowardice, and a slavish disposition do that of the modern.
The old SPANIARDS were restless, turbulent, and so addicted to war, that many of
them killed themselves, when deprived of their arms by the ROMANS.†5 One would
find an equal difficulty at present, (at least one would have found it fifty
years ago) to rouze up the modern SPANIARDS to arms. The BATAVIANS were all
soldiers of fortune, and hired themselves into the ROMAN armies. Their posterity
make use of foreigners for the same purpose that the ROMANS did their ancestors.
Though some few strokes of the FRENCH character be the same with that which
CAESAR has ascribed to the GAULS; yet what comparison between the civility,
humanity, and knowledge of the modern inhabitants of that country, and the
ignorance, barbarity, and grossness of the ancient?†i Not to insist upon the
great difference between the present possessors of BRITAIN, and those before the
ROMAN conquest; we may observe that our ancestors, a few centuries ago, were
sunk into the most abject superstition, last century they were inflamed with the
most furious enthusiasm, and are now settled into the most cool indifference
with regard to religious matters, that is to be found in any nation of the
world.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 18/35 mp. 206 gp. 251
Eighthly. Where several neighbouring nations have a very close communication
together, either by policy, commerce, or travelling, they acquire a similitude
of manners, proportioned to the communication. Thus all the FRANKS appear to
have a uniform character to the eastern nations. The differences among them are
like the peculiar accents of different provinces, which are not distinguishable,
except by an ear accustomed to them, and which commonly escape a foreigner.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 19/35 mp. 207 gp. 251
Ninthly. We may often remark a wonderful mixture of manners and characters in
the same nation, speaking the same language, and subject to the same government:
And in this particular the ENGLISH are the most remarkable of any people, that
perhaps ever were in the world. Nor is this to be ascribed to the mutability and
uncertainty of their climate, or to any other physical causes; since all these
causes take place in the neighbouring country of SCOTLAND, without having the
same effect. Where the government of a nation is altogether republican, it is
apt to beget a peculiar set of manners. Where it is altogether monarchical, it
is more apt to have the same effect; the imitation of superiors spreading the
national manners faster among the people. If the governing part of a state
consist altogether of merchants, as in HOLLAND, their uniform way of life will
fix their character. If it consists chiefly of nobles and landed gentry, like
GERMANY, FRANCE, and SPAIN, the same effect follows. The genius of a particular
sect or religion is also apt to mould the manners of a people. But the ENGLISH
government is a mixture of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. The people in
authority are composed of gentry and merchants. All sects of religion are to be
found among them. And the great liberty and independency, which every man
enjoys, allows him to display the manners peculiar to him. Hence the ENGLISH, of
any people in the universe, have the least of a national character; unless this
very singularity may pass for such.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 20/35 mp. 207 gp. 252
If the characters of men depended on the air and climate, the degrees of heat
and cold should naturally be expected to have a mighty influence; since nothing
has a greater effect on all plants and irrational animals. And indeed there is
some reason to think, that all the nations, which live beyond the polar circles
or between the tropics, are inferior to the rest of the species, and are
incapable of all the higher attainments of the human mind. The poverty and
misery of the northern inhabitants of the globe, and the indolence of the
southern, from their few necessities, may, perhaps, account for this remarkable
difference, without our having recourse to physical causes. This however is
certain, that the characters of nations are very promiscuous in the temperate
climates, and that almost all the general observations, which have been formed
of the more southern or more northern people in these climates, are found to be
uncertain and fallacious.†6
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 21/35 mp. 208 gp. 252
Shall we say, that the neighbourhood of the sun inflames the imagination of men,
and gives it a peculiar spirit and vivacity. The FRENCH, GREEKS, EGYPTIANS, and
PERSIANS are remarkable for gaiety. The SPANIARDS, TURKS, and CHINESE are noted
for gravity and a serious deportment, without any such difference of climate as
to produce this difference of temper.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 22/35 mp. 208 gp. 253
The GREEKS and ROMANS, who called all other nations barbarians, confined genius
and a fine understanding to the more southern climates, and pronounced the
northern nations incapable of all knowledge and civility. But our island has
produced as great men, either for action or learning, as GREECE or ITALY has to
boast of.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 23/35 mp. 208 gp. 253
It is pretended, that the sentiments of men become more delicate as the country
approaches nearer to the sun; and that the taste of beauty and elegance receives
proportional improvements in every latitude; as we may particularly observe of
the languages, of which the more southern are smooth and melodious, the northern
harsh and untuneable. But this observation holds not universally. The ARABIC is
uncouth and disagreeable: The MUSCOVITE soft and musical. Energy, strength, and
harshness form the character of the LATIN tongue: The ITALIAN is the most
liquid, smooth, and effeminate language that can possibly be imagined. Every
language will depend somewhat on the manners of the people; but much more on
that original stock of words and sounds, which they received from their
ancestors, and which remain unchangeable, even while their manners admit of the
greatest alterations. Who can doubt, but the ENGLISH are at present a more
polite and knowing people than the GREEKS were for several ages after the siege
of TROY? Yet is there no comparison between the language of MILTON and that of
HOMER. Nay, the greater are the alterations and improvements, which happen in
the manners of a people, the less can be expected in their language. A few
eminent and refined geniuses will communicate their taste and knowledge to a
whole people, and produce the greatest improvements; but they fix the tongue by
their writings, and prevent, in some degree, its farther changes.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 24/35 mp. 209 gp. 253
Lord BACON has observed, that the inhabitants of the south are, in general, more
ingenious than those of the north; but that, where the native of a cold climate
has genius, he rises to a higher pitch than can be reached by the southern wits.
This observation a late†7 writer confirms, by comparing the southern wits to
cucumbers, which are commonly all good in their kind; but at best are an insipid
fruit: While the northern geniuses are like melons, of which not one in fifty is
good; but when it is so, it has an exquisite relish. I believe this remark may
be allowed just, when confined to the EUROPEAN nations, and to the present age,
or rather to the preceding one: But I think it may be accounted for from moral
causes. All the sciences and liberal arts have been imported to us from the
south; and it is easy to imagine, that, in the first ardor of application, when
excited by emulation and by glory, the few, who were addicted to them, would
carry them to the greatest height, and stretch every nerve, and every faculty,
to reach the pinnacle of perfection. Such illustrious examples spread knowledge
every where, and begot an universal esteem for the sciences: After which, it is
no wonder, that industry relaxes; while men meet not with suitable
encouragement, nor arrive at such distinction by their attainments. The
universal diffusion of learning among a people, and the entire banishment of
gross ignorance and rusticity, is, therefore, seldom attended with any
remarkable perfection in particular persons.†k It seems to be taken for granted
in the dialogue de Oratoribus, that knowledge was much more common in
VESPASIAN'S age than in that of CICERO and AUGUSTUS. QUINTILIAN also complains
of the profanation of learning, by its becoming too common. "Formerly," says
JUVENAL, "science was confined to GREECE and ITALY. Now the whole world emulates
ATHENS and ROME. Eloquent GAUL has taught BRITAIN, knowing in the laws. Even
THULE entertains thoughts of hiring rhetoricians for its instruction."†8 This
state of learning is remarkable; because JUVENAL is himself the last of the
ROMAN writers, that possessed any degree of genius. Those, who succeeded, are
valued for nothing but the matters of fact, of which they give us information. I
hope the late conversion of MUSCOVY to the study of the sciences will not prove
a like prognostic to the present period of learning.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 25/35 mp. 211 gp. 254
Cardinal BENTIVOGLIO gives the preference to the northern nations above the
southern with regard to candour and sincerity; and mentions, on the one hand,
the SPANIARDS and ITALIANS, and on the other, the FLEMINGS and GERMANS. But I am
apt to think, that this has happened by accident. The ancient ROMANS seem to
have been a candid sincere people, as are the modern TURKS. But if we must needs
suppose, that this event has arisen from fixed causes, we may only conclude from
it, that all extremes are apt to concur, and are commonly attended with the same
consequences. Treachery is the usual concomitant of ignorance and barbarism; and
if civilized nations ever embrace subtle and crooked politics, it is from an
excess of refinement, which makes them disdain the plain direct path to power
and glory.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 26/35 mp. 211 gp. 255
Most conquests have gone from north to south; and it has hence been inferred,
that the northern nations possess a superior degree of courage and ferocity. But
it would have been juster to have said, that most conquests are made by poverty
and want upon plenty and riches. The SARACENS, leaving the deserts of ARABIA,
carried their conquests northwards upon all the fertile provinces of the ROMAN
empire; and met the TURKS half way, who were coming southwards from the deserts
of TARTARY.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 27/35 mp. 212 gp. 255
An eminent writer†9 has remarked, that all courageous animals are also
carnivorous, and that greater courage is to be expected in a people, such as the
ENGLISH, whose food is strong and hearty, than in the half-starved commonalty of
other countries. But the SWEDES, notwithstanding their disadvantages in this
particular, are not inferior, in martial courage, to any nation that ever was in
the world.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 28/35 mp. 212 gp. 255
In general, we may observe, that courage, of all national qualities, is the most
precarious; because it is exerted only at intervals, and by a few in every
nation; whereas industry, knowledge, civility, may be of constant and universal
use, and for several ages, may become habitual to the whole people. If courage
be preserved, it must be by discipline, example, and opinion. The tenth legion
of CAESAR, and the regiment of PICARDY in FRANCE were formed promiscuously from
among the citizens; but having once entertained a notion, that they were the
best troops in the service, this very opinion really made them such.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 29/35 mp. 212 gp. 255
As a proof how much courage depends on opinion, we may observe, that, of the two
chief tribes of the GREEKS, the DORIANS, and IONIANS, the former were always
esteemed, and always appeared more brave and manly than the latter; though the
colonies of both the tribes were interspersed and intermingled throughout all
the extent of GREECE, the Lesser ASIA, SICILY, ITALY, and the islands of the
AEGEAN sea. The ATHENIANS were the only IONIANS that ever had any reputation for
valour or military atchievements; though even these were deemed inferior to the
LACEDEMONIANS, the bravest of the DORIANS.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 30/35 mp. 213 gp. 256
The only observation, with regard to the difference of men in different
climates, on which we can rest any weight, is the vulgar one, that people in the
northern regions have a greater inclination to strong liquors, and those in the
southern to love and women. One can assign a very probable physical cause for
this difference. Wine and distilled waters warm the frozen blood in the colder
climates, and fortify men against the injuries of the weather: As the genial
heat of the sun, in the countries exposed to his beams, inflames the blood, and
exalts the passion between the sexes.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 31/35 mp. 213 gp. 256
Perhaps too, the matter may be accounted for by moral causes. All strong liquors
are rarer in the north, and consequently are more coveted. DIODORUS SICULUS†10
tells us, that the GAULS in his time were great drunkards, and much addicted to
wine; chiefly, I suppose, from its rarity and novelty. On the other hand, the
heat in the southern climates, obliging men and women to go half naked, thereby
renders their frequent commerce more dangerous, and inflames their mutual
passion. This makes parents and husbands more jealous and reserved; which still
farther inflames the passion. Not to mention, that, as women ripen sooner in the
southern regions, it is necessary to observe greater jealousy and care in their
education; it being evident, that a girl of twelve cannot possess equal
discretion to govern this passion, with one who feels not its violence till she
be seventeen or eighteen.†m Nothing so much encourages the passion of love as
ease and leisure, or is more destructive to it than industry and hard labour;
and as the necessities of men are evidently fewer in the warm climates than in
the cold ones, this circumstance alone may make a considerable difference
between them.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 32/35 mp. 213 gp. 257
But perhaps the fact is doubtful, that nature has, either from moral or physical
causes, distributed these respective inclinations to the different climates. The
ancient GREEKS, though born in a warm climate, seem to have been much addicted
to the bottle; nor were their parties of pleasure any thing but matches of
drinking among men, who passed their time altogether apart from the fair. Yet
when ALEXANDER led the GREEKS into PERSIA, a still more southern climate, they
multiplied their debauches of this kind, in imitation of the PERSIAN manners.†11
So honourable was the character of a drunkard among the PERSIANS, that CYRUS the
younger, soliciting the sober LACEDEMONIANS for succour against his brother
ARTAXERXES, claims it chiefly on account of his superior endowments, as more
valorous, more bountiful, and a better drinker.†12 DARIUS HYSTASPES made it be
inscribed on his tomb-stone, among his other virtues and princely qualities,
that no one could bear a greater quantity of liquor. You may obtain any thing of
the NEGROES by offering them strong drink; and may easily prevail with them to
sell, not only their children, but their wives and mistresses, for a cask of
brandy. In FRANCE and ITALY few drink pure wine, except in the greatest heats of
summer; and indeed, it is then almost as necessary, in order to recruit the
spirits, evaporated by heat, as it is in SWEDEN, during the winter, in order to
warm the bodies congealed by the rigour of the season.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 33/35 mp. 214 gp. 257
If jealousy be regarded as a proof of an amorous disposition, no people were
more jealous than the MUSCOVITES, before their communication with EUROPE had
somewhat altered their manners in this particular.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 34/35 mp. 215 gp. 257
But supposing the fact true, that nature, by physical principles, has regularly
distributed these two passions, the one to the northern, the other to the
southern regions; we can only infer, that the climate may affect the grosser and
more bodily organs of our frame; not that it can work upon those finer organs,
on which the operations of the mind and understanding depend. And this is
agreeable to the analogy of nature. The races of animals never degenerate when
carefully tended; and horses, in particular, always show their blood in their
shape, spirit, and swiftness: But a coxcomb may beget a philosopher; as a man of
virtue may leave a worthless progeny.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Para. 35/35 mp. 215 gp. 258
I shall conclude this subject with observing, that though the passion for liquor
be more brutal and debasing than love, which, when properly managed, is the
source of all politeness and refinement; yet this gives not so great an
advantage to the southern climates, as we may be apt, at first sight, to
imagine. When love goes beyond a certain pitch, it renders men jealous, and cuts
off the free intercourse between the sexes, on which the politeness of a nation
will commonly much depend. And if we would subtilize and refine upon this point,
we might observe, that the people, in very temperate climates, are the most
likely to attain all sorts of improvement; their blood not being so inflamed as
to render them jealous, and yet being warm enough to make them set a due value
on the charms and endowments of the fair sex.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 1 mp. 199 gp. 245
†1 It is a saying of MENANDER, {Kompsos sratiotes, oud' an ei plattei theos
Outheis genoit' an}. MEN. apud STOBAEUM. It is not in the power even of God to
make a polite soldier. The contrary observation with regard to the manners of
soldiers takes place in our days. This seems to me a presumption, that the
ancients owed all their refinement and civility to books and study; for which,
indeed, a soldier's life is not so well calculated. Company and the world is
their sphere. And if there be any politeness to be learned from company, they
will certainly have a considerable share of it.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 2 Para. 1/10 mp. 199 gp. 245
†2 Though all mankind have a strong propensity to religion at certain times and
in certain dispositions; yet are there few or none, who have it to that degree,
and with that constancy, which is requisite to support the character of this
profession. It must, therefore, happen, that clergymen, being drawn from the
common mass of mankind, as people are to other employments, by the views of
profit, the greater part, though no atheists or free-thinkers, will find it
necessary, on particular occasions, to feign more devotion than they are, at
that time, possessed of, and to maintain the appearance of fervor and
seriousness, even when jaded with the exercises of their religion, or when they
have their minds engaged in the common occupations of life. They must not, like
the rest of the world, give scope to their natural movements and sentiments:
They must set a guard over their looks and words and actions: And in order to
support the veneration paid them by the multitude, they must not only keep a
remarkable reserve, but must promote the spirit of superstition, by a continued
grimace and hypocrisy. This dissimulation often destroys the candor and
ingenuity of their temper, and makes an irreparable breach in their character.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 2 Para. 2/10 mp. 200 gp. 246
If by chance any of them be possessed of a temper more susceptible of devotion
than usual, so that he has but little occasion for hypocrisy to support the
character of his profession; it is so natural for him to over-rate this
advantage, and to think that it atones for every violation of morality, that
frequently he is not more virtuous than the hypocrite. And though few dare
openly avow those exploded opinions, that every thing is lawful to the saints,
and that they alone have property in their goods; yet may we observe, that these
principles lurk in every bosom, and represent a zeal for religious observances
as so great a merit, that it may compensate for many vices and enormities. This
observation is so common, that all prudent men are on their guard, when they
meet with any extraordinary appearance of religion; though at the same time,
they confess, that there are many exceptions to this general rule, and that
probity and superstition, or even probity and fanaticism, are not altogether and
in every instance incompatible.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 2 Para. 3/10 mp. 200 gp. 246
Most men are ambitious; but the ambition of other men may commonly be satisfied,
by excelling in their particular profession, and thereby promoting the interests
of society. The ambition of the clergy can often be satisfied only by promoting
ignorance and superstition and implicit faith and pious frauds. And having got
what ARCHIMEDES only wanted, (namely, another world, on which he could fix his
engines) no wonder they move this world at their pleasure.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 2 Para. 4/10 mp. 200 gp. 246
Most men have an overweaning conceit of themselves; but these have a peculiar
temptation to that vice, who are regarded with such veneration, and are even
deemed sacred, by the ignorant multitude.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 2 Para. 5/10 mp. 200 gp. 246
Most men are apt to bear a particular regard for members of their own
profession; but as a lawyer, or physician, or merchant, does, each of them,
follow out his business apart, the interests of men of these professions are not
so closely united as the interests of clergymen of the same religion; where the
whole body gains by the veneration, paid to their common tenets, and by the
suppression of antagonists.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 2 Para. 6/10 mp. 201 gp. 246
Few men can bear contradiction with patience; but the clergy too often proceed
even to a degree of fury on this head: Because all their credit and livelihood
depend upon the belief, which their opinions meet with; and they alone pretend
to a divine and supernatural authority, or have any colour for representing
their antagonists as impious and prophane. The Odium Theologicum, or Theological
Hatred, is noted even to a proverb, and means that degree of rancour, which is
the most furious and implacable.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 2 Para. 7/10 mp. 201 gp. 246
Revenge is a natural passion to mankind; but seems to reign with the greatest
force in priests and women: Because, being deprived of the immediate exertion of
anger, in violence and combat, they are apt to fancy themselves despised on that
account; and their pride supports their vindictive disposition.†c
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 2 Para. 8/10 mp. 201 gp. 247
Thus many of the vices of human nature are, by fixed moral causes, inflamed in
that profession; and though several individuals escape the contagion, yet all
wise governments will be on their guard against the attempts of a society, who
will for ever combine into one faction, and while it acts as a society, will for
ever be actuated by ambition, pride, revenge, and a persecuting spirit.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 2 Para. 9/10 mp. 201 gp. 247
The temper of religion is grave and serious; and this is the character required
of priests, which confines them to strict rules of decency, and commonly
prevents irregularity and intemperance amongst them. The gaiety, much less the
excesses of pleasure, is not permitted in that body; and this virtue is,
perhaps, the only one which they owe to their profession. In religions, indeed,
founded on speculative principles, and where public discourses make a part of
religious service, it may also be supposed that the clergy will have a
considerable share in the learning of the times; though it is certain that their
taste in eloquence will always be greater than their proficiency in reasoning
and philosophy. But whoever possesses the other noble virtues of humanity,
meekness, and moderation, as very many of them, no doubt, do, is beholden for
them to nature or reflection, not to the genius of his calling.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 2 Para. 10/10 mp. 201 gp. 247
It was no bad expedient in the old ROMANS, for preventing the strong effect of
the priestly character, to make it a law that no one should be received into the
sacerdotal office, till he was past fifty years of age, DION. Hal. lib. ii. 21.
The living a layman till that age, it is presumed, would be able to fix the
character.†d
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 3 mp. 202 gp. 247
†3 CAESAR (de Bello GALLICO, lib. 4. 2.) says, that the GALLIC horses were very
good; the GERMAN very bad. We find in lib. 7. 65. that he was obliged to remount
some GERMAN cavalry with GALLIC horses. At present, no part of EUROPE has so bad
horses of all kinds as FRANCE: But GERMANY abounds with excellent war horses.
This may beget a little suspicion, that even animals depend not on the climate;
but on the different breeds, and on the skill and care in rearing them. The
north of ENGLAND abounds in the best horses of all kinds which are perhaps in
the world. In the neighbouring counties, north side of the TWEED), no good
horses of any kind are to be met with. STRABO, lib. 2. 103. rejects, in a great
measure, the influence of climates upon men. All is custom and education, says
he. It is not from nature, that the ATHENIANS are learned, the LACEDEMONIANS
ignorant, and the THEBANS too, who are still nearer neighbours to the former.
Even the difference of animals, he adds, depends not on climate.†f
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 4 mp. 205 gp. 250
†4 A small sect or society amidst a greater are commonly most regular in their
morals; because they are more remarked, and the faults of individuals draw
dishonour on the whole. The only exception to this rule is, when the
superstition and prejudices of the large society are so strong as to throw an
infamy on the smaller society, independent of their morals. For in that case,
having no character either to save or gain, they become careless of their
behaviour, except among themselves.†h
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 5 mp. 206 gp. 250
†5 TIT. LIVII, lib. xxxiv. cap. 17.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 6 mp. 208 gp. 252
†6 I am apt to suspect the negroes to be naturally inferior to the whites. There
scarcely ever was a civilized nation of that complexion, nor even any individual
eminent either in action or speculation. No ingenious manufactures amongst them,
no arts, no sciences. On the other hand, the most rude and barbarous of the
whites, such as the ancient GERMANS, the present TARTARS, have still something
eminent about them, in their valour, form of government, or some other
particular. Such a uniform and constant difference could not happen, in so many
countries and ages, if nature had not made an original distinction between these
breeds of men. Not to mention our colonies, there are NEGROE slaves dispersed
all over EUROPE, of which none ever discovered any symptoms of ingenuity; though
low people, without education, will start up amongst us, and distinguish
themselves in every profession. In JAMAICA, indeed, they talk of one negroe as a
man of parts and learning; but it is likely he is admired for very slender
accomplishments, like a parrot, who speaks a few words plainly.†j
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 7 mp. 209 gp. 253
†7 Dr. Berkeley: Minute Philosopher.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 8 mp. 210 gp. 254
†8 "Sed Cantaber unde
Stoicus? antiqui praesertim aetate Metelli.
Nunc totus GRAIAS, nostrasque habet orbis ATHENAS.
GALLIA causidicos docuit facunda BRITANNOS:
De conducendo loquitur jam rhetore THULE."
Sat. 15. 108.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 9 mp. 212 gp. 255
†9 Sir WILLIAM TEMPLE'S account of the Netherlands.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 10 mp. 213 gp. 256
†10 Lib. v. 26. The same author ascribes taciturnity to that people; a new proof
that national characters may alter very much.†l Taciturnity, as a national
character, implies unsociableness. ARISTOTLE in his Politics, book ii. cap. 9.
says, that the GAULS are the only warlike nation, who are negligent of women.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 11 mp. 214 gp. 257
†11 BABYLONII maxime in vinum, & quae ebrietatem sequuntur, effusi sunt. QUINT.
CUR. lib. v. cap. 1.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Foot. 12 mp. 214 gp. 257
†12 PLUT. SYMP. lib. i. quaest. 4.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. a gp. 244
†a This Essay was first published in Edition D.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. b mp. 629 gp. 245
†b Editions D to P add: Instances of this nature are very frequent in the world.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. c mp. 629 gp. 247
†c This paragraph was added in Edition K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. d mp. 629 gp. 247
†d This paragraph was added in Edition K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. e mp. 629 gp. 247
†e This paragraph is not in Edition D.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. f mp. 629 gp. 247
†f This note is not in Edition D.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. g mp. 629 gp. 249
†g This sentence was added in Edition Q.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. h mp. 629 gp. 250
†h This note was added in Edition K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. i mp. 629 gp. 251
†i This sentence was added in Edition K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. j mp. 629 gp. 252
†j This note was added in Edition K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. k mp. 630 gp. 254
†k This sentence and the previous one were added in Edition K.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. l mp. 630 gp. 256
†l This sentence was added in Edition K; and the next in Edition M.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 21 Var. m mp. 630 gp. 256
†m This sentence was added in Edition R.
Essay 22. OF TRAGEDY
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 1/28 mp. 216 gp. 258
†a ESSAY XXII: OF TRAGEDY
It seems an unaccountable pleasure, which the spectators of a well-written
tragedy receive from sorrow, terror, anxiety, and other passions, that are in
themselves disagreeable and uneasy. The more they are touched and affected, the
more are they delighted with the spectacle; and as soon as the uneasy passions
cease to operate, the piece is at an end. One scene of full joy and contentment
and security is the utmost, that any composition of this kind can bear; and it
is sure always to be the concluding one. If, in the texture of the piece, there
be interwoven any scenes of satisfaction, they afford only faint gleams of
pleasure, which are thrown in by way of variety, and in order to plunge the
actors into deeper distress, by means of that contrast and disappointment. The
whole art of the poet is employed, in rouzing and supporting the compassion and
indignation, the anxiety and resentment of his audience. They are pleased in
proportion as they are afflicted, and never are so happy as when they employ
tears, sobs, and cries to give vent to their sorrow, and relieve their heart,
swoln with the tenderest sympathy and compassion.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 2/28 mp. 217 gp. 259
The few critics who have had some tincture of philosophy, have remarked this
singular phenomenon, and have endeavoured to account for it.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 3/28 mp. 217 gp. 259
L'Abbe DUBOS, in his reflections on poetry and painting, asserts, that nothing
is in general so disagreeable to the mind as the languid, listless state of
indolence, into which it falls upon the removal of all passion and occupation.
To get rid of this painful situation, it seeks every amusement and pursuit;
business, gaming, shews, executions; whatever will rouze the passions, and take
its attention from itself. No matter what the passion is: Let it be
disagreeable, afflicting, melancholy, disordered; it is still better than that
insipid languor, which arises from perfect tranquillity and repose.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 4/28 mp. 217 gp. 259
It is impossible not to admit this account, as being, at least in part,
satisfactory. You may observe, when there are several tables of gaming, that all
the company run to those, where the deepest play is, even though they find not
there the best players. The view, or, at least, imagination of high passions,
arising from great loss or gain, affects the spectator by sympathy, gives him
some touches of the same passions, and serves him for a momentary entertainment.
It makes the time pass the easier with him, and is some relief to that
oppression, under which men commonly labour, when left entirely to their own
thoughts and meditations.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 5/28 mp. 217 gp. 259
We find that common liars always magnify, in their narrations, all kinds of
danger, pain, distress, sickness, deaths, murders, and cruelties; as well as
joy, beauty, mirth, and magnificence. It is an absurd secret, which they have
for pleasing their company, fixing their attention, and attaching them to such
marvellous relations, by the passions and emotions, which they excite.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 6/28 mp. 218 gp. 259
There is, however, a difficulty in applying to the present subject, in its full
extent, this solution, however ingenious and satisfactory it may appear. It is
certain, that the same object of distress, which pleases in a tragedy, were it
really set before us, would give the most unfeigned uneasiness; though it be
then the most effectual cure to languor and indolence. Monsieur FONTENELLE seems
to have been sensible of this difficulty; and accordingly attempts another
solution of the phenomenon; at least makes some addition to the theory above
mentioned.†1
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 7/28 mp. 218 gp. 260
"Pleasure and pain," says he, "which are two sentiments so different in
themselves, differ not so much in their cause. From the instance of tickling, it
appears, that the movement of pleasure, pushed a little too far, becomes pain;
and that the movement of pain, a little moderated, becomes pleasure. Hence it
proceeds, that there is such a thing as a sorrow, soft and agreeable: It is a
pain weakened and diminished. The heart likes naturally to be moved and
affected. Melancholy objects suit it, and even disastrous and sorrowful,
provided they are softened by some circumstance. It is certain, that, on the
theatre, the representation has almost the effect of reality; yet it has not
altogether that effect. However we may be hurried away by the spectacle;
whatever dominion the senses and imagination may usurp over the reason, there
still lurks at the bottom a certain idea of falsehood in the whole of what we
see. This idea, though weak and disguised, suffices to diminish the pain which
we suffer from the misfortunes of those whom we love, and to reduce that
affliction to such a pitch as converts it into a pleasure. We weep for the
misfortune of a hero, to whom we are attached. In the same instant we comfort
ourselves, by reflecting, that it is nothing but a fiction: And it is precisely
that mixture of sentiments, which composes an agreeable sorrow, and tears that
delight us. But as that affliction, which is caused by exterior and sensible
objects, is stronger than the consolation which arises from an internal
reflection, they are the effects and symptoms of sorrow, that ought to
predominate in the composition."
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 8/28 mp. 219 gp. 260
This solution seems just and convincing; but perhaps it wants still some new
addition, in order to make it answer fully the phenomenon, which we here
examine. All the passions, excited by eloquence, are agreeable in the highest
degree, as well as those which are moved by painting and the theatre. The
epilogues of CICERO are, on this account chiefly, the delight of every reader of
taste; and it is difficult to read some of them without the deepest sympathy and
sorrow. His merit as an orator, no doubt, depends much on his success in this
particular. When he had raised tears in his judges and all his audience, they
were then the most highly delighted, and expressed the greatest satisfaction
with the pleader. The pathetic description of the butchery, made by VERRES of
the SICILIAN captains, is a masterpiece of this kind: But I believe none will
affirm, that the being present at a melancholy scene of that nature would afford
any entertainment. Neither is the sorrow here softened by fiction: For the
audience were convinced of the reality of every circumstance. What is it then,
which in this case raises a pleasure from the bosom of uneasiness, so to speak;
and a pleasure, which still retains all the features and outward symptoms of
distress and sorrow?
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 9/28 mp. 219 gp. 261
I answer: This extraordinary effect proceeds from that very eloquence, with
which the melancholy scene is represented. The genius required to paint objects
in a lively manner, the art employed in collecting all the pathetic
circumstances, the judgment displayed in disposing them: the exercise, I say, of
these noble talents, together with the force of expression, and beauty of
oratorial numbers, diffuse the highest satisfaction on the audience, and excite
the most delightful movements. By this means, the uneasiness of the melancholy
passions is not only overpowered and effaced by something stronger of an
opposite kind; but the whole impulse of those passions is converted into
pleasure, and swells the delight which the eloquence raises in us. The same
force of oratory, employed on an uninteresting subject, would not please half so
much, or rather would appear altogether ridiculous; and the mind, being left in
absolute calmness and indifference, would relish none of those beauties of
imagination or expression, which, if joined to passion, give it such exquisite
entertainment. The impulse or vehemence, arising from sorrow, compassion,
indignation, receives a new direction from the sentiments of beauty. The latter,
being the predominant emotion, seize the whole mind, and convert the former into
themselves, at least tincture them so strongly as totally to alter their nature.
And the soul, being, at the same time, rouzed by passion, and charmed by
eloquence, feels on the whole a strong movement, which is altogether delightful.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 10/28 mp. 220 gp. 261
The same principle takes place in tragedy; with this addition, that tragedy is
an imitation; and imitation is always of itself agreeable. This circumstance
serves still farther to smooth the motions of passion, and convert the whole
feeling into one uniform and strong enjoyment. Objects of the greatest terror
and distress please in painting, and please more than the most beautiful
objects, that appear calm and indifferent.†2 The affection, rouzing the mind,
excites a large stock of spirit and vehemence; which is all transformed into
pleasure by the force of the prevailing movement. It is thus the fiction of
tragedy softens the passion, by an infusion of a new feeling, not merely by
weakening or diminishing the sorrow. You may by degrees weaken a real sorrow,
till it totally disappears; yet in none of its gradations will it ever give
pleasure; except, perhaps, by accident, to a man sunk under lethargic indolence,
whom it rouzes from that languid state.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 11/28 mp. 221 gp. 262
To confirm this theory, it will be sufficient to produce other instances, where
the subordinate movement is converted into the predominant, and gives force to
it, though of a different, and even sometimes though of a contrary nature.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 12/28 mp. 221 gp. 262
Novelty naturally rouzes the mind, and attracts our attention; and the
movements, which it causes, are always converted into any passion, belonging to
the object, and join their force to it. Whether an event excite joy or sorrow,
pride or shame, anger or good-will, it is sure to produce a stronger affection,
when new or unusual. And though novelty of itself be agreeable, it fortifies the
painful, as well as agreeable passions.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 13/28 mp. 221 gp. 262
Had you any intention to move a person extremely by the narration of any event,
the best method of encreasing its effect would be artfully to delay informing
him of it, and first to excite his curiosity and impatience before you let him
into the secret. This is the artifice practised by IAGO in the famous scene of
SHAKESPEARE; and every spectator is sensible, that OTHELLO'S jealousy acquires
additional force from his preceding impatience, and that the subordinate passion
is here readily transformed into the predominant one.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 14/28 mp. 221 gp. 262
Difficulties encrease passions of every kind; and by rouzing our attention, and
exciting our active powers, they produce an emotion, which nourishes the
prevailing affection.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 15/28 mp. 221 gp. 263
Parents commonly love that child most, whose sickly infirm frame of body has
occasioned them the greatest pains, trouble, and anxiety in rearing him. The
agreeable sentiment of affection here acquires force from sentiments of
uneasiness.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 16/28 mp. 222 gp. 263
Nothing endears so much a friend as sorrow for his death. The pleasure of his
company has not so powerful an influence.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 17/28 mp. 222 gp. 263
Jealousy is a painful passion; yet without some share of it, the agreeable
affection of love has difficulty to subsist in its full force and violence.
Absence is also a great source of complaint among lovers, and gives them the
greatest uneasiness: Yet nothing is more favourable to their mutual passion than
short intervals of that kind. And if long intervals often prove fatal, it is
only because, through time, men are accustomed to them, and they cease to give
uneasiness. Jealousy and absence in love compose the dolce peccante of the
ITALIANS, which they suppose so essential to all pleasure.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 18/28 mp. 222 gp. 263
There is a fine observation of the elder PLINY, which illustrates the principle
here insisted on. It is very remarkable, says he, that the last works of
celebrated artists, which they left imperfect, are always the most prized, such
as the IRIS of ARISTIDES, the TYNDARIDES of NICOMACHUS, the MEDEA of TIMOMACHUS,
and the VENUS of APELLES. These are valued even above the finished productions:
The broken lineaments of the piece, and the half-formed idea of the painter are
carefully studied; and our very grief for that curious hand, which had been
stopped by death, is an additional encrease to our pleasure.†3
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 19/28 mp. 222 gp. 263
These instances (and many more might be collected) are sufficient to afford us
some insight into the analogy of nature, and to show us, that the pleasure,
which poets, orators, and musicians give us, by exciting grief, sorrow,
indignation, compassion, is not so extraordinary or paradoxical, as it may at
first sight appear. The force of imagination, the energy of expression, the
power of numbers, the charms of imitation; all these are naturally, of
themselves, delightful to the mind: And when the object presented lays also hold
of some affection, the pleasure still rises upon us, by the conversion of this
subordinate movement into that which is predominant. The passion, though,
perhaps, naturally, and when excited by the simple appearance of a real object,
it may be painful; yet is so smoothed, and softened, and mollified, when raised
by the finer arts, that it affords the highest entertainment.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 20/28 mp. 223 gp. 264
To confirm this reasoning, we may observe, that if the movements of the
imagination be not predominant above those of the passion, a contrary effect
follows; and the former, being now subordinate, is converted into the latter,
and still farther encreases the pain and affliction of the sufferer.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 21/28 mp. 223 gp. 264
Who could ever think of it as a good expedient for comforting an afflicted
parent, to exaggerate, with all the force of elocution, the irreparable loss,
which he has met with by the death of a favourite child? The more power of
imagination and expression you here employ, the more you encrease his despair
and affliction.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 22/28 mp. 223 gp. 264
The shame, confusion, and terror of VERRES, no doubt, rose in proportion to the
noble eloquence and vehemence of CICERO: So also did his pain and uneasiness.
These former passions were too strong for the pleasure arising from the beauties
of elocution; and operated, though from the same principle, yet in a contrary
manner, to the sympathy, compassion, and indignation of the audience.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 23/28 mp. 223 gp. 264
Lord CLARENDON, when he approaches towards the catastrophe of the royal party,
supposes, that his narration must then become infinitely disagreeable; and he
hurries over the king's death, without giving us one circumstance of it. He
considers it as too horrid a scene to be contemplated with any satisfaction, or
even without the utmost pain and aversion. He himself, as well as the readers of
that age, were too deeply concerned in the events, and felt a pain from
subjects, which an historian and a reader of another age would regard as the
most pathetic and most interesting, and, by consequence, the most agreeable.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 24/28 mp. 224 gp. 264
An action, represented in tragedy, may be too bloody and atrocious. It may
excite such movements of horror as will not soften into pleasure; and the
greatest energy of expression, bestowed on descriptions of that nature, serves
only to augment our uneasiness. Such is that action represented in the Ambitious
Stepmother, where a venerable old man, raised to the height of fury and despair,
rushes against a pillar, and striking his head upon it, besmears it all over
with mingled brains and gore. The ENGLISH theatre abounds too much with such
shocking images.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 25/28 mp. 224 gp. 265
Even the common sentiments of compassion require to be softened by some
agreeable affection, in order to give a thorough satisfaction to the audience.
The mere suffering of plaintive virtue, under the triumphant tyranny and
oppression of vice, forms a disagreeable spectacle, and is carefully avoided by
all masters of the drama. In order to dismiss the audience with entire
satisfaction and contentment, the virtue must either convert itself into a noble
courageous despair, or the vice receive its proper punishment.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 26/28 mp. 224 gp. 265
Most painters appear in this light to have been very unhappy in their subjects.
As they wrought much for churches and convents, they have chiefly represented
such horrible subjects as crucifixions and martyrdoms, where nothing appears but
tortures, wounds, executions, and passive suffering, without any action or
affection. When they turned their pencil from this ghastly mythology, they had
commonly recourse to OVID, whose fictions, though passionate and agreeable, are
scarcely natural or probable enough for painting.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 27/28 mp. 224 gp. 265
The same inversion of that principle, which is here insisted on, displays itself
in common life, as in the effects of oratory and poetry. Raise so the
subordinate passion that it becomes the predominant, it swallows up that
affection which it before nourished and encreased. Too much jealousy
extinguishes love: Too much difficulty renders us indifferent: Too much sickness
and infirmity disgusts a selfish and unkind parent.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Para. 28/28 mp. 225 gp. 265
What so disagreeable as the dismal, gloomy, disastrous stories, with which
melancholy people entertain their companions? The uneasy passion being there
raised alone, unaccompanied with any spirit, genius, or eloquence, conveys a
pure uneasiness, and is attended with nothing that can soften it into pleasure
or satisfaction.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Foot. 1 mp. 218 gp. 260
†1 Reflexions sur la poetique, sec. 36.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Foot. 2 mp. 220 gp. 262
†2 Painters make no scruple of representing distress and sorrow as well as any
other passion: But they seem not to dwell so much on these melancholy affections
as the poets, who, though they copy every motion of the human breast, yet pass
quickly over the agreeable sentiments. A painter represents only one instant;
and if that be passionate enough, it is sure to affect and delight the
spectator: But nothing can furnish to the poet a variety of scenes and incidents
and sentiments, except distress, terror, or anxiety. Compleat joy and
satisfaction is attended with security, and leaves no farther room for action.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Foot. 3 mp. 222 gp. 263
†3 Illud vero perquam rarum ac memoria dignum, etiam suprema opera artificum,
imperfectasque tabulas, sicut, IRIN ARISTIDIS, TYNDARIDAS NICOMACHI, MEDEAM
TIMOACHI, & quam diximus VENEREM APELLIS, in majori admiratione esse quam
perfecta. Quippe in iis lineamenta reliqua, ipsaeque cogitationes artificum
spectantur, atque in lenocinio commendationis dolor est manus, cum id ageret,
extinctae. Lib. xxxv. cap. 11.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 22 Var. a gp. 258
†a This Essay was first published in Edition L.
Essay 23. OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 1/36 mp. 226 gp. 266
†a ESSAY XXIII: OF THE STANDARD OF TASTE
The great variety of Taste, as well as of opinion, which prevails in the world,
is too obvious not to have fallen under every one's observation. Men of the most
confined knowledge are able to remark a difference of taste in the narrow circle
of their acquaintance, even where the persons have been educated under the same
government, and have early imbibed the same prejudices. But those, who can
enlarge their view to contemplate distant nations and remote ages, are still
more surprized at the great inconsistence and contrariety. We are apt to call
barbarous whatever departs widely from our own taste and apprehension: But soon
find the epithet of reproach retorted on us. And the highest arrogance and
self-conceit is at last startled, on observing an equal assurance on all sides,
and scruples, amidst such a contest of sentiment, to pronounce positively in its
own favour.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 2/36 mp. 227 gp. 266
As this variety of taste is obvious to the most careless enquirer; so will it be
found, on examination, to be still greater in reality than in appearance. The
sentiments of men often differ with regard to beauty and deformity of all kinds,
even while their general discourse is the same. There are certain terms in every
language, which import blame, and others praise; and all men, who use the same
tongue, must agree in their application of them. Every voice is united in
applauding elegance, propriety, simplicity, spirit in writing; and in blaming
fustian, affectation, coldness, and a false brilliancy: But when critics come to
particulars, this seeming unanimity vanishes; and it is found, that they had
affixed a very different meaning to their expressions. In all matters of opinion
and science, the case is opposite: The difference among men is there oftener
found to lie in generals than in particulars; and to be less in reality than in
appearance. An explanation of the terms commonly ends the controversy; and the
disputants are surprized to find, that they had been quarrelling, while at
bottom they agreed in their judgment.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 3/36 mp. 227 gp. 266
Those who found morality on sentiment, more than on reason, are inclined to
comprehend ethics under the former observation, and to maintain, that, in all
questions, which regard conduct and manners, the difference among men is really
greater than at first sight it appears. It is indeed obvious, that writers of
all nations and all ages concur in applauding justice, humanity, magnanimity,
prudence, veracity; and in blaming the opposite qualities. Even poets and other
authors, whose compositions are chiefly calculated to please the imagination,
are yet found from HOMER down to FENELON, to inculcate the same moral precepts,
and to bestow their applause and blame on the same virtues and vices. This great
unanimity is usually ascribed to the influence of plain reason; which, in all
these cases, maintains similar sentiments in all men, and prevents those
controversies, to which the abstract sciences are so much exposed. So far as the
unanimity is real, this account may be admitted as satisfactory: But we must
also allow that some part of the seeming harmony in morals may be accounted for
from the very nature of language. The word virtue, with its equivalent in every
tongue, implies praise; as that of vice does blame: And no one, without the most
obvious and grossest impropriety, could affix reproach to a term, which in
general acceptation is understood in a good sense; or bestow applause, where the
idiom requires disapprobation. HOMER'S general precepts, where he delivers any
such, will never be controverted; but it is obvious, that, when he draws
particular pictures of manners, and represents heroism in ACHILLES and prudence
in ULYSSES, he intermixes a much greater degree of ferocity in the former, and
of cunning and fraud in the latter, than FENELON would admit of. The sage
ULYSSES in the GREEK poet seems to delight in lies and fictions, and often
employs them without any necessity or even advantage: But his more scrupulous
son, in the FRENCH epic writer, exposes himself to the most imminent perils,
rather than depart from the most exact line of truth and veracity.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 4/36 mp. 229 gp. 267
The admirers and followers of the ALCORAN insist on the excellent moral precepts
interspersed throughout that wild and absurd performance. But it is to be
supposed, that the ARABIC words, which correspond to the ENGLISH, equity,
justice, temperance, meekness, charity, were such as, from the constant use of
that tongue, must always be taken in a good sense; and it would have argued the
greatest ignorance, not of morals, but of language, to have mentioned them with
any epithets, besides those of applause and approbation. But would we know,
whether the pretended prophet had really attained a just sentiment of morals?
Let us attend to his narration; and we shall soon find, that he bestows praise
on such instances of treachery, inhumanity, cruelty, revenge, bigotry, as are
utterly incompatible with civilized society. No steady rule of right seems there
to be attended to; and every action is blamed or praised, so far only as it is
beneficial or hurtful to the true believers.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 5/36 mp. 229 gp. 268
The merit of delivering true general precepts in ethics is indeed very small.
Whoever recommends any moral virtues, really does no more than is implied in the
terms themselves. That people, who invented the word charity, and used it in a
good sense, inculcated more clearly and much more efficaciously, the precept, be
charitable, than any pretended legislator or prophet, who should insert such a
maxim in his writings. Of all expressions, those, which, together with their
other meaning, imply a degree either of blame or approbation, are the least
liable to be perverted or mistaken.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 6/36 mp. 229 gp. 268
It is natural for us to seek a Standard of Taste; a rule, by which the various
sentiments of men may be reconciled; at least, a decision, afforded, confirming
one sentiment, and condemning another.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 7/36 mp. 229 gp. 268
There is a species of philosophy, which cuts off all hopes of success in such an
attempt, and represents the impossibility of ever attaining any standard of
taste. The difference, it is said, is very wide between judgment and sentiment.
All sentiment is right; because sentiment has a reference to nothing beyond
itself, and is always real, wherever a man is conscious of it. But all
determinations of the understanding are not right; because they have a reference
to something beyond themselves, to wit, real matter of fact; and are not always
conformable to that standard. Among a thousand different opinions which
different men may entertain of the same subject, there is one, and but one, that
is just and true; and the only difficulty is to fix and ascertain it. On the
contrary, a thousand different sentiments, excited by the same object, are all
right: Because no sentiment represents what is really in the object. It only
marks a certain conformity or relation between the object and the organs or
faculties of the mind; and if that conformity did not really exist, the
sentiment could never possibly have being. Beauty is no quality in things
themselves: It exists merely in the mind which contemplates them; and each mind
perceives a different beauty. One person may even perceive deformity, where
another is sensible of beauty; and every individual ought to acquiesce in his
own sentiment, without pretending to regulate those of others. To seek the real
beauty, or real deformity, is as fruitless an enquiry, as to pretend to
ascertain the real sweet or real bitter. According to the disposition of the
organs, the same object may be both sweet and bitter; and the proverb has justly
determined it to be fruitless to dispute concerning tastes. It is very natural,
and even quite necessary, to extend this axiom to mental, as well as bodily
taste; and thus common sense, which is so often at variance with philosophy,
especially with the sceptical kind, is found, in one instance at least, to agree
in pronouncing the same decision.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 8/36 mp. 230 gp. 269
But though this axiom, by passing into a proverb, seems to have attained the
sanction of common sense; there is certainly a species of common sense which
opposes it, at least serves to modify and restrain it. Whoever would assert an
equality of genius and elegance between OGILBY and MILTON, or BUNYANS and
ADDISON, would be thought to defend no less an extravagance, than if he had
maintained a mole-hill to be as high as TENERIFFE, or a pond as extensive as the
ocean. Though there may be found persons, who give the preference to the former
authors; no one pays attention to such a taste; and we pronounce without scruple
the sentiment of these pretended critics to be absurd and ridiculous. The
principle of the natural equality of tastes is then totally forgot, and while we
admit it on some occasions, where the objects seem near an equality, it appears
an extravagant paradox, or rather a palpable absurdity, where objects so
disproportioned are compared together.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 9/36 mp. 231 gp. 269
It is evident that none of the rules of composition are fixed by reasonings a
priori, or can be esteemed abstract conclusions of the understanding, from
comparing those habitudes and relations of ideas, which are eternal and
immutable. Their foundation is the same with that of all the practical sciences,
experience; nor are they any thing but general observations, concerning what has
been universally found to please in all countries and in all ages. Many of the
beauties of poetry and even of eloquence are founded on falsehood and fiction,
on hyperboles, metaphors, and an abuse or perversion of terms from their natural
meaning. To check the sallies of the imagination, and to reduce every expression
to geometrical truth and exactness, would be the most contrary to the laws of
criticism; because it would produce a work, which, by universal experience, has
been found the most insipid and disagreeable. But though poetry can never submit
to exact truth, it must be confined by rules of art, discovered to the author
either by genius or observation. If some negligent or irregular writers have
pleased, they have not pleased by their transgressions of rule or order, but in
spite of these transgressions: They have possessed other beauties, which were
conformable to just criticism; and the force of these beauties has been able to
overpower censure, and give the mind a satisfaction superior to the disgust
arising from the blemishes. ARIOSTO pleases; but not by his monstrous and
improbable fictions, by his bizarre mixture of the serious and comic styles, by
the want of coherence in his stories, or by the continual interruptions of his
narration. He charms by the force and clearness of his expression, by the
readiness and variety of his inventions, and by his natural pictures of the
passions, especially those of the gay and amorous kind: And however his faults
may diminish our satisfaction, they are not able entirely to destroy it. Did our
pleasure really arise from those parts of his poem, which we denominate faults,
this would be no objection to criticism in general: It would only be an
objection to those particular rules of criticism, which would establish such
circumstances to be faults, and would represent them as universally blameable.
If they are found to please, they cannot be faults; let the pleasure, which they
produce, be ever so unexpected and unaccountable.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 10/36 mp. 232 gp. 270
But though all the general rules of art are founded only on experience and on
the observation of the common sentiments of human nature, we must not imagine,
that, on every occasion, the feelings of men will be conformable to these rules.
Those finer emotions of the mind are of a very tender and delicate nature, and
require the concurrence of many favourable circumstances to make them play with
facility and exactness, according to their general and established principles.
The least exterior hindrance to such small springs, or the least internal
disorder, disturbs their motion, and confounds the operation of the whole
machine. When we would make an experiment of this nature, and would try the
force of any beauty or deformity, we must choose with care a proper time and
place, and bring the fancy to a suitable situation and disposition. A perfect
serenity of mind, a recollection of thought, a due attention to the object; if
any of these circumstances be wanting, our experiment will be fallacious, and we
shall be unable to judge of the catholic and universal beauty. The relation,
which nature has placed between the form and the sentiment, will at least be
more obscure; and it will require greater accuracy to trace and discern it. We
shall be able to ascertain its influence not so much from the operation of each
particular beauty, as from the durable admiration, which attends those works,
that have survived all the caprices of mode and fashion, all the mistakes of
ignorance and envy.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 11/36 mp. 233 gp. 271
The same HOMER, who pleased at ATHENS and ROME two thousand years ago, is still
admired at PARIS and at LONDON. All the changes of climate, government,
religion, and language, have not been able to obscure his glory. Authority or
prejudice may give a temporary vogue to a bad poet or orator; but his reputation
will never be durable or general. When his compositions are examined by
posterity or by foreigners, the enchantment is dissipated, and his faults appear
in their true colours. On the contrary, a real genius, the longer his works
endure, and the more wide they are spread, the more sincere is the admiration
which he meets with. Envy and jealousy have too much place in a narrow circle;
and even familiar acquaintance with his person may diminish the applause due to
his performances: But when these obstructions are removed, the beauties, which
are naturally fitted to excite agreeable sentiments, immediately display their
energy; and while the world endures, they maintain their authority over the
minds of men.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 12/36 mp. 233 gp. 271
It appears then, that, amidst all the variety and caprice of taste, there are
certain general principles of approbation or blame, whose influence a careful
eye may trace in all operations of the mind. Some particular forms or qualities,
from the original structure of the internal fabric, are calculated to please,
and others to displease; and if they fail of their effect in any particular
instance, it is from some apparent defect or imperfection in the organ. A man in
a fever would not insist on his palate as able to decide concerning flavours;
nor would one, affected with the jaundice, pretend to give a verdict with regard
to colours. In each creature, there is a sound and a defective state; and the
former alone can be supposed to afford us a true standard of taste and
sentiment. If, in the sound state of the organ, there be an entire or a
considerable uniformity of sentiment among men, we may thence derive an idea of
the perfect beauty; in like manner as the appearance of objects in day-light, to
the eye of a man in health, is denominated their true and real colour, even
while colour is allowed to be merely a phantasm of the senses.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 13/36 mp. 234 gp. 272
Many and frequent are the defects in the internal organs, which prevent or
weaken the influence of those general principles, on which depends our sentiment
of beauty or deformity. Though some objects, by the structure of the mind, be
naturally calculated to give pleasure, it is not to be expected, that in every
individual the pleasure will be equally felt. Particular incidents and
situations occur, which either throw a false light on the objects, or hinder the
true from conveying to the imagination the proper sentiment and perception.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 14/36 mp. 234 gp. 272
One obvious cause, why many feel not the proper sentiment of beauty, is the want
of that delicacy of imagination, which is requisite to convey a sensibility of
those finer emotions. This delicacy every one pretends to: Every one talks of
it; and would reduce every kind of taste or sentiment to its standard. But as
our intention in this essay is to mingle some light of the understanding with
the feelings of sentiment, it will be proper to give a more accurate definition
of delicacy, than has hitherto been attempted. And not to draw our philosophy
from too profound a source, we shall have recourse to a noted story in DON
QUIXOTE.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 15/36 mp. 234 gp. 272
It is with good reason, says SANCHO to the squire with the great nose, that I
pretend to have a judgment in wine: This is a quality hereditary in our family.
Two of my kinsmen were once called to give their opinion of a hogshead, which
was supposed to be excellent, being old and of a good vintage. One of them
tastes it; considers it; and after mature reflection pronounces the wine to be
good, were it not for a small taste of leather, which he perceived in it. The
other, after using the same precautions, gives also his verdict in favour of the
wine; but with the reserve of a taste of iron, which he could easily
distinguish. You cannot imagine how much they were both ridiculed for their
judgment. But who laughed in the end? On emptying the hogshead, there was found
at the bottom, an old key with a leathern thong tied to it.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 16/36 mp. 235 gp. 273
The great resemblance between mental and bodily taste will easily teach us to
apply this story. Though it be certain, that beauty and deformity, more than
sweet and bitter, are not qualities in objects, but belong entirely to the
sentiment, internal or external; it must be allowed, that there are certain
qualities in objects, which are fitted by nature to produce those particular
feelings. Now as these qualities may be found in a small degree, or may be mixed
and confounded with each other, it often happens, that the taste is not affected
with such minute qualities, or is not able to distinguish all the particular
flavours, amidst the disorder, in which they are presented. Where the organs are
so fine, as to allow nothing to escape them; and at the same time so exact as to
perceive every ingredient in the composition: This we call delicacy of taste,
whether we employ these terms in the literal or metaphorical sense. Here then
the general rules of beauty are of use; being drawn from established models, and
from the observation of what pleases or displeases, when presented singly and in
a high degree: And if the same qualities, in a continued composition and in a
smaller degree, affect not the organs with a sensible delight or uneasiness, we
exclude the person from all pretensions to this delicacy. To produce these
general rules or avowed patterns of composition is like finding the key with the
leathern thong; which justified the verdict of SANCHO'S kinsmen, and confounded
those pretended judges who had condemned them. Though the hogshead had never
been emptied, the taste of the one was still equally delicate, and that of the
other equally dull and languid: But it would have been more difficult to have
proved the superiority of the former, to the conviction of every by-stander. In
like manner, though the beauties of writing had never been methodized, or
reduced to general principles; though no excellent models had ever been
acknowledged; the different degrees of taste would still have subsisted, and the
judgment of one man been preferable to that of another; but it would not have
been so easy to silence the bad critic, who might always insist upon his
particular sentiment, and refuse to submit to his antagonist. But when we show
him an avowed principle of art; when we illustrate this principle by examples,
whose operation, from his own particular taste, he acknowledges to be
conformable to the principle; when we prove, that the same principle may be
applied to the present case, where he did not perceive or feel its influence: He
must conclude, upon the whole, that the fault lies in himself, and that he wants
the delicacy, which is requisite to make him sensible of every beauty and every
blemish, in any composition or discourse.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 17/36 mp. 236 gp. 274
It is acknowledged to be the perfection of every sense or faculty, to perceive
with exactness its most minute objects, and allow nothing to escape its notice
and observation. The smaller the objects are, which become sensible to the eye,
the finer is that organ, and the more elaborate its make and composition. A good
palate is not tried by strong flavours; but by a mixture of small ingredients,
where we are still sensible of each part, notwithstanding its minuteness and its
confusion with the rest. In like manner, a quick and acute perception of beauty
and deformity must be the perfection of our mental taste; nor can a man be
satisfied with himself while he suspects, that any excellence or blemish in a
discourse has passed him unobserved. In this case, the perfection of the man,
and the perfection of the sense or feeling, are found to be united. A very
delicate palate, on many occasions, may be a great inconvenience both to a man
himself and to his friends: But a delicate taste of wit or beauty must always be
a desirable quality; because it is the source of all the finest and most
innocent enjoyments, of which human nature is susceptible. In this decision the
sentiments of all mankind are agreed. Wherever you can ascertain a delicacy of
taste, it is sure to meet with approbation; and the best way of ascertaining it
is to appeal to those models and principles, which have been established by the
uniform consent and experience of nations and ages.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 18/36 mp. 237 gp. 274
But though there be naturally a wide difference in point of delicacy between one
person and another, nothing tends further to encrease and improve this talent,
than practice in a particular art, and the frequent survey or contemplation of a
particular species of beauty. When objects of any kind are first presented to
the eye or imagination, the sentiment, which attends them, is obscure and
confused; and the mind is, in a great measure, incapable of pronouncing
concerning their merits or defects. The taste cannot perceive the several
excellencies of the performance; much less distinguish the particular character
of each excellency, and ascertain its quality and degree. If it pronounce the
whole in general to be beautiful or deformed, it is the utmost that can be
expected; and even this judgment, a person, so unpractised, will be apt to
deliver with great hesitation and reserve. But allow him to acquire experience
in those objects, his feeling becomes more exact and nice: He not only perceives
the beauties and defects of each part, but marks the distinguishing species of
each quality, and assigns it suitable praise or blame. A clear and distinct
sentiment attends him through the whole survey of the objects; and he discerns
that very degree and kind of approbation or displeasure, which each part is
naturally fitted to produce. The mist dissipates, which seemed formerly to hang
over the object: The organ acquires greater perfection in its operations; and
can pronounce, without danger of mistake, concerning the merits of every
performance. In a word, the same address and dexterity, which practice gives to
the execution of any work, is also acquired by the same means, in the judging of
it.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 19/36 mp. 237 gp. 275
So advantageous is practice to the discernment of beauty, that, before we can
give judgment on any work of importance, it will even be requisite, that that
very individual performance be more than once perused by us, and be surveyed in
different lights with attention and deliberation. There is a flutter or hurry of
thought which attends the first perusal of any piece, and which confounds the
genuine sentiment of beauty. The relation of the parts is not discerned: The
true characters of style are little distinguished: The several perfections and
defects seem wrapped up in a species of confusion, and present themselves
indistinctly to the imagination. Not to mention, that there is a species of
beauty, which, as it is florid and superficial, pleases at first; but being
found incompatible with a just expression either of reason or passion, soon
palls upon the taste, and is then rejected with disdain, at least rated at a
much lower value.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 20/36 mp. 238 gp. 275
It is impossible to continue in the practice of contemplating any order of
beauty, without being frequently obliged to form comparisons between the several
species and degrees of excellence, and estimating their proportion to each
other. A man, who has had no opportunity of comparing the different kinds of
beauty, is indeed totally unqualified to pronounce an opinion with regard to any
object presented to him. By comparison alone we fix the epithets of praise or
blame, and learn how to assign the due degree of each. The coarsest daubing
contains a certain lustre of colours and exactness of imitation, which are so
far beauties, and would affect the mind of a peasant or Indian with the highest
admiration. The most vulgar ballads are not entirely destitute of harmony or
nature; and none but a person, familiarized to superior beauties, would
pronounce their numbers harsh, or narration uninteresting. A great inferiority
of beauty gives pain to a person conversant in the highest excellence of the
kind, and is for that reason pronounced a deformity: As the most finished
object, with which we are acquainted, is naturally supposed to have reached the
pinnacle of perfection, and to be entitled to the highest applause. One
accustomed to see, and examine, and weigh the several performances, admired in
different ages and nations, can alone rate the merits of a work exhibited to his
view, and assign its proper rank among the productions of genius.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 21/36 mp. 239 gp. 276
But to enable a critic the more fully to execute this undertaking, he must
preserve his mind free from all prejudice, and allow nothing to enter into his
consideration, but the very object which is submitted to his examination. We may
observe, that every work of art, in order to produce its due effect on the mind,
must be surveyed in a certain point of view, and cannot be fully relished by
persons, whose situation, real or imaginary, is not conformable to that which is
required by the performance. An orator addresses himself to a particular
audience, and must have a regard to their particular genius, interests,
opinions, passions, and prejudices; otherwise he hopes in vain to govern their
resolutions, and inflame their affections. Should they even have entertained
some prepossessions against him, however unreasonable, he must not overlook this
disadvantage; but, before he enters upon the subject, must endeavour to
conciliate their affection, and acquire their good graces. A critic of a
different age or nation, who should peruse this discourse, must have all these
circumstances in his eye, and must place himself in the same situation as the
audience, in order to form a true judgment of the oration. In like manner, when
any work is addressed to the public, though I should have a friendship or enmity
with the author, I must depart from this situation; and considering myself as a
man in general, forget, if possible, my individual being and my peculiar
circumstances. A person influenced by prejudice, complies not with this
condition; but obstinately maintains his natural position, without placing
himself in that point of view, which the performance supposes. If the work be
addressed to persons of a different age or nation, he makes no allowance for
their peculiar views and prejudices; but, full of the manners of his own age and
country, rashly condemns what seemed admirable in the eyes of those for whom
alone the discourse was calculated. If the work be executed for the public, he
never sufficiently enlarges his comprehension, or forgets his interest as a
friend or enemy, as a rival or commentator. By this means, his sentiments are
perverted; nor have the same beauties and blemishes the same influence upon him,
as if he had imposed a proper violence on his imagination, and had forgotten
himself for a moment. So far his taste evidently departs from the true standard;
and of consequence loses all credit and authority.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 22/36 mp. 240 gp. 277
It is well known, that in all questions, submitted to the understanding,
prejudice is destructive of sound judgment, and perverts all operations of the
intellectual faculties: It is no less contrary to good taste; nor has it less
influence to corrupt our sentiment of beauty. It belongs to good sense to check
its influence in both cases; and in this respect, as well as in many others,
reason, if not an essential part of taste, is at least requisite to the
operations of this latter faculty. In all the nobler productions of genius,
there is a mutual relation and correspondence of parts; nor can either the
beauties or blemishes be perceived by him, whose thought is not capacious enough
to comprehend all those parts, and compare them with each other, in order to
perceive the consistence and uniformity of the whole. Every work of art has also
a certain end or purpose, for which it is calculated; and is to be deemed more
or less perfect, as it is more or less fitted to attain this end. The object of
eloquence is to persuade, of history to instruct, of poetry to please by means
of the passions and the imagination. These ends we must carry constantly in our
view, when we peruse any performance; and we must be able to judge how far the
means employed are adapted to their respective purposes. Besides, every kind of
composition, even the most poetical, is nothing but a chain of propositions and
reasonings; not always, indeed, the justest and most exact, but still plausible
and specious, however disguised by the colouring of the imagination. The persons
introduced in tragedy and epic poetry, must be represented as reasoning, and
thinking, and concluding, and acting, suitably to their character and
circumstances; and without judgment, as well as taste and invention, a poet can
never hope to succeed in so delicate an undertaking. Not to mention, that the
same excellence of faculties which contributes to the improvement of reason, the
same clearness of conception, the same exactness of distinction, the same
vivacity of apprehension, are essential to the operations of true taste, and are
its infallible concomitants. It seldom, or never happens, that a man of sense,
who has experience in any art, cannot judge of its beauty; and it is no less
rare to meet with a man who has a just taste without a sound understanding.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 23/36 mp. 241 gp. 278
Thus, though the principles of taste be universal, and nearly, if not entirely
the same in all men; yet few are qualified to give judgment on any work of art,
or establish their own sentiment as the standard of beauty. The organs of
internal sensation are seldom so perfect as to allow the general principles
their full play, and produce a feeling correspondent to those principles. They
either labour under some defect, or are vitiated by some disorder; and by that
means, excite a sentiment, which may be pronounced erroneous. When the critic
has no delicacy, he judges without any distinction, and is only affected by the
grosser and more palpable qualities of the object: The finer touches pass
unnoticed and disregarded. Where he is not aided by practice, his verdict is
attended with confusion and hesitation. Where no comparison has been employed,
the most frivolous beauties, such as rather merit the name of defects, are the
object of his admiration. Where he lies under the influence of prejudice, all
his natural sentiments are perverted. Where good sense is wanting, he is not
qualified to discern the beauties of design and reasoning, which are the highest
and most excellent. Under some or other of these imperfections, the generality
of men labour; and hence a true judge in the finer arts is observed, even during
the most polished ages, to be so rare a character: Strong sense, united to
delicate sentiment, improved by practice, perfected by comparison, and cleared
of all prejudice, can alone entitle critics to this valuable character; and the
joint verdict of such, wherever they are to be found, is the true standard of
taste and beauty.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 24/36 mp. 241 gp. 279
But where are such critics to be found? By what marks are they to be known? How
distinguish them from pretenders? These questions are embarrassing; and seem to
throw us back into the same uncertainty, from which, during the course of this
essay, we have endeavoured to extricate ourselves.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 25/36 mp. 242 gp. 279
But if we consider the matter aright, these are questions of fact, not of
sentiment. Whether any particular person be endowed with good sense and a
delicate imagination, free from prejudice, may often be the subject of dispute,
and be liable to great discussion and enquiry: But that such a character is
valuable and estimable will be agreed in by all mankind. Where these doubts
occur, men can do no more than in other disputable questions, which are
submitted to the understanding: They must produce the best arguments, that their
invention suggests to them; they must acknowledge a true and decisive standard
to exist somewhere, to wit, real existence and matter of fact; and they must
have indulgence to such as differ from them in their appeals to this standard.
It is sufficient for our present purpose, if we have proved, that the taste of
all individuals is not upon an equal footing, and that some men in general,
however difficult to be particularly pitched upon, will be acknowledged by
universal sentiment to have a preference above others.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 26/36 mp. 242 gp. 279
But in reality the difficulty of finding, even in particulars, the standard of
taste, is not so great as it is represented. Though in speculation, we may
readily avow a certain criterion in science and deny it in sentiment, the matter
is found in practice to be much more hard to ascertain in the former case than
in the latter. Theories of abstract philosophy, systems of profound theology,
have prevailed during one age: In a successive period, these have been
universally exploded: Their absurdity has been detected: Other theories and
systems have supplied their place, which again gave place to their successors:
And nothing has been experienced more liable to the revolutions of chance and
fashion than these pretended decisions of science. The case is not the same with
the beauties of eloquence and poetry. Just expressions of passion and nature are
sure, after a little time, to gain public applause, which they maintain for
ever. ARISTOTLE, and PLATO, and EPICURUS, and DESCARTES, may successively yield
to each other: But TERENCE and VIRGIL maintain an universal, undisputed empire
over the minds of men. The abstract philosophy of CICERO has lost its credit:
The vehemence of his oratory is still the object of our admiration.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 27/36 mp. 243 gp. 280
Though men of delicate taste be rare, they are easily to be distinguished in
society, by the soundness of their understanding and the superiority of their
faculties above the rest of mankind. The ascendant, which they acquire, gives a
prevalence to that lively approbation, with which they receive any productions
of genius, and renders it generally predominant. Many men, when left to
themselves, have but a faint and dubious perception of beauty, who yet are
capable of relishing any fine stroke, which is pointed out to them. Every
convert to the admiration of the real poet or orator is the cause of some new
conversion. And though prejudices may prevail for a time, they never unite in
celebrating any rival to the true genius, but yield at last to the force of
nature and just sentiment. Thus, though a civilized nation may easily be
mistaken in the choice of their admired philosopher, they never have been found
long to err, in their affection for a favourite epic or tragic author.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 28/36 mp. 243 gp. 280
But notwithstanding all our endeavours to fix a standard of taste, and reconcile
the discordant apprehensions of men, there still remain two sources of
variation, which are not sufficient indeed to confound all the boundaries of
beauty and deformity, but will often serve to produce a difference in the
degrees of our approbation or blame. The one is the different humours of
particular men; the other, the particular manners and opinions of our age and
country. The general principles of taste are uniform in human nature: Where men
vary in their judgments, some defect or perversion in the faculties may commonly
be remarked; proceeding either from prejudice, from want of practice, or want of
delicacy; and there is just reason for approving one taste, and condemning
another. But where there is such a diversity in the internal frame or external
situation as is entirely blameless on both sides, and leaves no room to give one
the preference above the other; in that case a certain degree of diversity in
judgment is unavoidable, and we seek in vain for a standard, by which we can
reconcile the contrary sentiments.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 29/36 mp. 244 gp. 281
A young man, whose passions are warm, will be more sensibly touched with amorous
and tender images, than a man more advanced in years, who takes pleasure in
wise, philosophical reflections concerning the conduct of life and moderation of
the passions. At twenty, OVID may be the favourite author; HORACE at forty; and
perhaps TACITUS at fifty. Vainly would we, in such cases, endeavour to enter
into the sentiments of others, and divest ourselves of those propensities, which
are natural to us. We choose our favourite author as we do our friend, from a
conformity of humour and disposition. Mirth or passion, sentiment or reflection;
whichever of these most predominates in our temper, it gives us a peculiar
sympathy with the writer who resembles us.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 30/36 mp. 244 gp. 281
One person is more pleased with the sublime; another with the tender; a third
with raillery. One has a strong sensibility to blemishes, and is extremely
studious of correctness: Another has a more lively feeling of beauties, and
pardons twenty absurdities and defects for one elevated or pathetic stroke. The
ear of this man is entirely turned towards conciseness and energy; that man is
delighted with a copious, rich, and harmonious expression. Simplicity is
affected by one; ornament by another. Comedy, tragedy, satire, odes, have each
its partizans, who prefer that particular species of writing to all others. It
is plainly an error in a critic, to confine his approbation to one species or
style of writing, and condemn all the rest. But it is almost impossible not to
feel a predilection for that which suits our particular turn and disposition.
Such preferences are innocent and unavoidable, and can never reasonably be the
object of dispute, because there is no standard, by which they can be decided.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 31/36 mp. 244 gp. 281
For a like reason, we are more pleased, in the course of our reading, with
pictures and characters, that resemble objects which are found in our own age or
country, than with those which describe a different set of customs. It is not
without some effort, that we reconcile ourselves to the simplicity of ancient
manners, and behold princesses carrying water from the spring, and kings and
heroes dressing their own victuals. We may allow in general, that the
representation of such manners is no fault in the author, nor deformity in the
piece; but we are not so sensibly touched with them. For this reason, comedy is
not easily transferred from one age or nation to another. A FRENCHMAN or
ENGLISHMAN is not pleased with the ANDRIA of TERENCE, or CLITIA of MACHIAVEL;
where the fine lady, upon whom all the play turns, never once appears to the
spectators, but is always kept behind the scenes, suitably to the reserved
humour of the ancient GREEKS and modern ITALIANS. A man of learning and
reflection can make allowance for these peculiarities of manners; but a common
audience can never divest themselves so far of their usual ideas and sentiments,
as to relish pictures which no wise resemble them.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 32/36 mp. 245 gp. 282
But here there occurs a reflection, which may, perhaps, be useful in examining
the celebrated controversy concerning ancient and modern learning; where we
often find the one side excusing any seeming absurdity in the ancients from the
manners of the age, and the other refusing to admit this excuse, or at least,
admitting it only as an apology for the author, not for the performance. In my
opinion, the proper boundaries in this subject have seldom been fixed between
the contending parties. Where any innocent peculiarities of manners are
represented, such as those above mentioned, they ought certainly to be admitted;
and a man, who is shocked with them, gives an evident proof of false delicacy
and refinement. The poet's monument more durable than brass, must fall to the
ground like common brick or clay, were men to make no allowance for the
continual revolutions of manners and customs, and would admit of nothing but
what was suitable to the prevailing fashion. Must we throw aside the pictures of
our ancestors, because of their ruffs and fardingales? But where the ideas of
morality and decency alter from one age to another, and where vicious manners
are described, without being marked with the proper characters of blame and
disapprobation; this must be allowed to disfigure the poem, and to be a real
deformity. I cannot, nor is it proper I should, enter into such sentiments; and
however I may excuse the poet, on account of the manners of his age, I never can
relish the composition. The want of humanity and of decency, so conspicuous in
the characters drawn by several of the ancient poets, even sometimes by HOMER
and the GREEK tragedians, diminishes considerably the merit of their noble
performances, and gives modern authors an advantage over them. We are not
interested in the fortunes and sentiments of such rough heroes: We are
displeased to find the limits of vice and virtue so much confounded: And
whatever indulgence we may give to the writer on account of his prejudices, we
cannot prevail on ourselves to enter into his sentiments, or bear an affection
to characters, which we plainly discover to be blameable.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 33/36 mp. 246 gp. 283
The case is not the same with moral principles, as with speculative opinions of
any kind. These are in continual flux and revolution. The son embraces a
different system from the father. Nay, there scarcely is any man, who can boast
of great constancy and uniformity in this particular. Whatever speculative
errors may be found in the polite writings of any age or country, they detract
but little from the value of those compositions. There needs but a certain turn
of thought or imagination to make us enter into all the opinions, which then
prevailed, and relish the sentiments or conclusions derived from them. But a
very violent effort is requisite to change our judgment of manners, and excite
sentiments of approbation or blame, love or hatred, different from those to
which the mind from long custom has been familiarized. And where a man is
confident of the rectitude of that moral standard, by which he judges, he is
justly jealous of it, and will not pervert the sentiments of his heart for a
moment, in complaisance to any writer whatsoever.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 34/36 mp. 247 gp. 283
Of all speculative errors, those, which regard religion, are the most excusable
in compositions of genius; nor is it ever permitted to judge of the civility or
wisdom of any people, or even of single persons, by the grossness or refinement
of their theological principles. The same good sense, that directs men in the
ordinary occurrences of life, is not hearkened to in religious matters, which
are supposed to be placed altogether above the cognizance of human reason. On
this account, all the absurdities of the pagan system of theology must be
overlooked by every critic, who would pretend to form a just notion of ancient
poetry; and our posterity, in their turn, must have the same indulgence to their
forefathers. No religious principles can ever be imputed as a fault to any poet,
while they remain merely principles, and take not such strong possession of his
heart, as to lay him under the imputation of bigotry or superstition. Where that
happens, they confound the sentiments of morality, and alter the natural
boundaries of vice and virtue. They are therefore eternal blemishes, according
to the principle abovementioned; nor are the prejudices and false opinions of
the age sufficient to justify them.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 35/36 mp. 247 gp. 284
It is essential to the ROMAN catholic religion to inspire a violent hatred of
every other worship, and to represent all pagans, mahometans, and heretics as
the objects of divine wrath and vengeance. Such sentiments, though they are in
reality very blameable, are considered as virtues by the zealots of that
communion, and are represented in their tragedies and epic poems as a kind of
divine heroism. This bigotry has disfigured two very fine tragedies of the
FRENCH theatre, POLIEUCTE and ATHALIA; where an intemperate zeal for particular
modes of worship is set off with all the pomp imaginable, and forms the
predominant character of the heroes. "What is this," says the sublime JOAD to
JOSABET, finding her in discourse with MATHAN, the priest of BAAL, "Does the
daughter of DAVID speak to this traitor? Are you not afraid, lest the earth
should open and pour forth flames to devour you both? Or lest these holy walls
should fall and crush you together? What is his purpose? Why comes that enemy of
God hither to poison the air, which we breathe, with his horrid presence?" Such
sentiments are received with great applause on the theatre of PARIS; but at
LONDON the spectators would be full as much pleased to hear ACHILLES tell
AGAMEMNON, that he was a dog in his forehead, and a deer in his heart, or
JUPITER threaten JUNO with a sound drubbing, if she will not be quiet.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Para. 36/36 mp. 248 gp. 284
RELIGIOUS principles are also a blemish in any polite composition, when they
rise up to superstition, and intrude themselves into every sentiment, however
remote from any connection with religion. It is no excuse for the poet, that the
customs of his country had burthened life with so many religious ceremonies and
observances, that no part of it was exempt from that yoke. It must for ever be
ridiculous in PETRARCH to compare his mistress, LAURA, to JESUS CHRIST. Nor is
it less ridiculous in that agreeable libertine, BOCCACE, very seriously to give
thanks to GOD ALMIGHTY and the ladies, for their assistance in defending him
against his enemies.
Hume: ESY Pt. 1 E. 23 Var. a gp. 266
†a This essay was first published in Edition L.
               (
geocities.com/br)