Characteristicks of
Men, Manners, Opinions, Times
Anthony, Third Earl of Shaftesbury
haracteristicks
OF
Men, Manners, Opinions, Times
nthony,
THIRD EARL OF SHAFTESBURY
Foreword by Douglas Den Uyl
LIBERTY FUND
Indianapolis
This book is published by Liberty Fund, Inc., a foundation established to
encourage study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals.
The cuneiform inscription that serves as our logo and as the design motif
for our endpapers is the earliest-known written appearance of the word
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 2001 Liberty Fund, Inc. All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
05 04 03 02 01 C 5 4 3 2 1
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of, 1671­1713.
Characteristicks of men, manners, opinions, times /
Anthony, Third Earl of Shaftesbury;
introduction by Douglas Den Uyl.
p. cm.
Originally published: 6th ed., cor., with the addition
of a letter concerning design.
London: Printed by J. Purser, 1737­1738. With new introd.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN 0-86597-294-x (hc: set)
ISBN 0-86597-295-8 (pbk.: set)
1. Ethics. I. Title.
B1386. C48 2001
192--dc21 99-045747
LIBERTY FUND, INC.
8335 Allison Pointe Trail, Suite 300
Indianapolis, Indiana 46250-1684
CONTENTS
Foreword vii
A Note on the Text xiii
VOLUME I
A Letter Concerning Enthusiasm. 1
Sensus Communis; an Essay on the
Freedom of Wit and Humour. 37
Soliloquy, or Advice to an Author. 95
VOLUME II
An Inquiry Concerning Virtue and Merit. 1
The Moralists; a Philosophical Rhapsody. 101
VOLUME III
Miscellaneous Reflections on the Said
Treatises, and Other Critical Subjects. 1
A Notion of the Historical Draught, or
Tablature of the Judgment of Hercules.
With a Letter Concerning Design. 211
INDEXES
Shaftesbury's Index 253
Index to This Edition 293
v
FOREWORD
A
nthony Ashley Cooper, the Third Earl of Shaftesbury, wrote
one of the most important and influential books of the
eighteenth century. Other than Locke's Second Treatise,
Shaftesbury's Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times,
first published in 1711, was the most reprinted book in English in
that century. A three-volume work, the Characteristicks was influential
not only in England but throughout Europe. Three centuries
later, Shaftesbury is most remembered--when he is remembered
at all--as the initiator of the ``moral sense'' school of
British ethical theory usually associated with another eighteenthcentury
thinker, Francis Hutcheson. Hutcheson, David Hume,
Adam Smith, and others of that era are connected to Shaftesbury
as part of a way of moral theorizing that emphasized sentiment in
moral experience.
The groundwork for that movement is certainly to be found in
the pages of Shaftesbury, but one would do well not to approach
these texts predisposed to a certain framework or perspective. In
doing so, one would miss a richness of style and substance, an exceptional
learning, and a subtlety of thought seldom paralleled in
the English language. Shaftesbury's essay ``An Inquiry Concerning
Virtue and Meriť' is the basis of his reputation. But it is a
work quite unlike the others in these volumes. The ``Inquiry'' is
deductive and reads like a formal treatise. Most of the other works
are discursive and literary in character. It would be difficult even
to classify some of the essays, such as the ``Miscellaneous Reflections.''
Indeed, when one considers the Characteristicks as a whole,
one finds here a collection of writings of great diversity. No doubt
this diversity was intentional on Shaftesbury's part. He tells us, for
example, that ``there is more need . . . to interrupt the long-spun
thread of reasoning, and bring into the mind, by many different
vii
viii FOREWORD
glances and broken views, what cannot so easily be introduced by
one steady bent or continued stretch of sight.''
It is, in fact, one of the intriguing features about Shaftesbury
that, although his remarks seem clear enough, efforts to identify
his full position on an issue can often be more complicated than
expected. For example, in ``A Letter Concerning Enthusiasm,'' we
find, apparently, an argument for vented, but moderated, enthusiasm
as part of a recommendation for religious toleration. Enthusiasm--which
at the time was usually connected to religion and
had a ring of ``fanaticism'' to it--was said to be natural to human
beings. Rather than suppress enthusiasm as some would recommend,
Shaftesbury argues for constrained tolerance. However, by
the end of the essay, we read that ``something there will be of extravagance
and fury, when the ideas or images received are too big
for the narrow human vessel to contain. So that inspiration may be
justly called divine enthusiasm; for the word itself signifies divine
presence, and was made use of by the philosopher whom the earliest
Christian Fathers called divine, to express whatever was sublime
in human passions.''
After reading ``A Letter Concerning Enthusiasm'' one is left with
more questions than answers. Is there a form of enthusiasm that
Shaftesbury finds unqualifiedly good? If so, is this enthusiasm like
the otherenthusiasm that worried so many in Shaftesbury's day? If
not,what is the difference? Is enthusiasm reallya feature of human
nature? This passage suggests that enthusiasm comes from outside
the human person.Towhat extent is enthusiasm a feature of Christianity?
The same passage is ambiguous about that question, but
it suggests an ancient, pre-Christian form of enthusiasm. If there
are non-Christian forms, is the Christian version a purer form of
enthusiasm? With respect to the number and variety of questions
it raises, this essay is typical of the others found in the Character-
isticks.
Not only do these writings open a number of questions for
exploration, but they raise them in diverse formats. The ``Letter
Concerning Enthusiasm'' is called a ``letter,'' but we have as well
(in Shaftesbury's own words) an ``essay,'' ``advice,'' an ``inquiry,'' a
FOREWORD ix
``rhapsody,'' and ``miscellaneous reflections'' on the preceding treatises.
Not only are different modes of reflective thinking represented,
but in the ``Miscellaneous Reflections'' Shaftesbury further
complicates matters by giving us thoughts about his own thoughts.
All this makes for fascinating reading, to be sure, but it also signals
some fascinating rereading. One can come back to these texts
over and over again and still find fresh insights. And the different
nature of these works, not to mention the subtle contours within
them, only adds to the enjoyment of rereading them. No wonder
the Characteristicks was so popular during the eighteenth century.
Why, then, would the Characteristicks eventually fall into such
obscurity? One can only speculate: are the different forms of writing
diverse ways of pointing to one message, are they refracted
glimpses from a single perspective, or could they be disparate and
only loosely connected points of view? Whatever the answer, there
is a certain degree of self-conscious subtlety that Shaftesbury has
put into this work to elicit these questions.This subtlety is endemic
to the sensibilities of the eighteenth century, but perhaps not so
to subsequent eras. This difference of temperament may in part
explain the Characteristicks' fall from favor. The work's messages
are perhaps multiple and not driven home with the same transparency
of purpose and objective as writings of later times. Indeed,
Shaftesbury calls upon the reader to reflect with him, a somewhat
more demanding task than asking only that the reader grasp a message.
Furthermore, Shaftesbury expects the reader to make some
effort, so the author is not compelled to please pre-existing tastes
or opinions. In this respect, Shaftesbury stands in contrast to the
modern author who ``purchases his reader's favour by all imaginable
compliances and condescensions.'' Shaftesbury writes less to
inform, instruct, or persuade than to move the reader to thought.
Yet despite the demands placed upon the reader for intellectual
reflection, there is nevertheless a peculiarly aesthetic quality to
Shaftesbury's array of styles and forms of writing. Indeed, the aesthetic
element looms large in Shaftesbury, and he has been credited
with pioneering some forms of modern thinking about aesthetics
and aesthetic experience. The eighteenth century itself was deeply
x FOREWORD
concerned with the aesthetic, in large measure, I believe, due to
Shaftesbury. One thinks of Burke's A Philosophical Enquiry into the
Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful (1757), but Hume,
Hutcheson, Smith, and others give aesthetic issues--or at least the
imagination--central importance in their theories.
For Shaftesbury, the companion to intellectual reflection is aesthetic
experience. These activities are not only mutually reinforcing,
but share certain dimensions. One is struck by the beauty of
any object of understanding, and the beautiful is itself a sign of an
order waiting to be grasped by the mind. Aristotle noted that the
most abstract thought is aided by and represented in the imagination,
and Shaftesbury is ever mindful of this insight. The Characteristicks
appeals to both intellect and imagination. But more than
this, Shaftesbury may have been one of the first to understand
that the modern world would be moved primarily by imagination,
however much he may have preferred the guidance of reason. Indeed,
it is here that the link to sentiment mentioned earlier is to
be found, for sentiment and imagination are themselves integrally
connected.
Believing that the modern world would be moved by imagination
and sentiment, Shaftesbury's task was to fashion a way to lead
the reader to intellectual introspection and reflection while engaging
the imagination. The aesthetic dimension was, therefore, the
link between intellect and imagination, sentiment and judgment.
One of the truly remarkable features of the Characteristicks is its
use of visual images--one for each essay, each volume, and for the
work as a whole.These images were carefully and meticulously designed
by Shaftesbury himself to represent, in visual terms, some
of the main themes of his writings. In the early editions containing
these images, the page numbers for the corresponding passages are
often included on the image itself.
The round frontispiece that serves as the image for the entire
Characteristicks refers to two passages in the ``Miscellaneous Reflections.''
Both are given originally in Greek, and, interestingly,
both originally appear in a footnote rather than the body of the
text itself. The first passage, from Marcus Aurelius, is:
FOREWORD xi
What view you take is everything, and your view is in your
power. Remove it then when you choose, and then, as if you
had rounded the cape, come calm serenity, a waveless bay.
In the frontispiece are ships in a harbor, which is the representation
of the ``waveless bay.'' The ships have presumably ``rounded
the cape'' as well. The second citation is from Epictetus and reads:
As is the water-dish, so is the soul; as is the ray which falls
on the water, so are the appearances.When then the water is
moved the ray too seems to be moved, yet is not. And when,
accordingly, a man is giddy, it is not the arts and the virtues
which are thrown into confusion, but the spirit to which they
belong; and when he is recovered so are they.
One sees in the frontispiece a water-dish with a ray striking it.The
Greek on the image itself can be rendered as ``what light can be
given,'' pointing further to the passage from Epictetus. The image
then, with the interpretative help given to us by Shaftesbury, can
not only offer us some insight into the text, but also serve as a way
of reminding us of the text in significant themes. And, in a manner
reminiscent of the emblem books of the preceding century, in
which didactic messages are reinforced with visual imagery, these
images encourage the sort of reflection that Shaftesbury more fully
elicits from the reader.
For almost the first time in an English edition since the eighteenth
century, this Liberty Fund edition produces Shaftesbury's
images as part of his text as they were originally situated. Certainly
these images were regarded by Shaftesbury to be as much
a part of the Characteristicks as the words themselves. That the
words could have appeared without the images for so long offers a
possible reason for scholarly inattention to the Characteristicks for
the last three centuries.What Shaftesbury sought to have function
together--namely, words and images--came to be separated and
specialized in later eras. Today, the so-called ``mixing of media''
represents something of a return to Shaftesbury's insight into the
presentation of ideas.
xii FOREWORD
The images are meant to help the reader sort through a rather
complicated text, but they are themselves complicated. For example,
in the frontispiece image, one finds a snake with its tail in
its mouth, the shield of Athena, a lion biting a column, a bridle
and bit, a scroll and book, a sphinx, and more. In this as in the
other images, all symbols are placed deliberately and, presumably,
have significance for accomplishing the ends Shaftesbury has in
mind. Exploration of the images leads to exploration of the text
and vice versa. But what exactly the symbols in these images signify
may not always be clear to the contemporary reader. Some
imagery may be particular to Shaftesbury himself or to his time.
There is, at present, little scholarship on this issue, with a notable
and helpful exception in Felix Paknadeľs ``Shaftesbury's Illustrations
of Characteristics,'' Journal of the Warburg and Courtnauld Institutes,
vol. 37, 1974. Shaftesbury's images are more complicated
and abstract than most of the emblem images in earlier emblem
books, but this fact onlyadds to our puzzlement over particulars in
Shaftesbury's case. Clearly, however, the aesthetic dimension was
of central significance to Shaftesbury.This Liberty Fund edition is
essentially the 1732 edition, including the ``Letter Concerning Design''
and ``The Judgment of Hercules.'' Together these essays help
us to appreciate Shaftesbury's desire to link imagery with broader
philosophical themes.
In the end, however, both with respect to the images and the
writings themselves, it is the reader's path to self-awareness that
Shaftesbury seeks to illuminate. His invitation to exploration is
an invitation to self-exploration. Significantly, the invitation is not
meant to pull one towards a truth outside of oneself. On the contrary,
as one rounds each cornerof the labyrinth that is the Characteristicks,
one takes another step on the path of self-exploration. As
the author of this challenging work declares, `` 'Tis not enough to
show us merely faces which may be called men's; every face must
be a certain man's.''
Douglas J. Den Uyl
2000
A NOTE ON THE TEXT
This edition of Shaftesbury's Characteristicks is based upon the
1732 edition. The Characteristicks was first published in 1711, but
was revised in 1713 by Shaftesbury before his death. The 1714 edition
is therefore the edition most often considered as the reference
point for other editions. It includes Shaftesbury's emblematic
images and ``A Notion of the Historical Draught or Tablature of
the Judgment of Hercules.'' Despite its inclusion in the 1714 edition,
it seems not to be the case that the ``Judgment of Hercules''
was meant for the Characteristicks. The emblematic images, however,
certainly were, for they were carefully designed in detail by
Shaftesbury himself. The ``Judgment of Hercules'' along with the
``Letter Concerning Design'' were meant for a separate publication,
but the latter gets included for the first time in the 1732 edition
and remains through the 1790 edition. The reason we have
chosen to include these two pieces in this Liberty Fund edition
has to do with our presentation of the emblematic images. The
images were designed to be part of the text of the Characteristicks,
but have been virtually invisible since the eighteenth century. To
include them now would seem to raise some interest in Shaftesbury's
aesthetic views and thus in any direct statements he may
have made about that matter. These two pieces offer some insight
to the modern reader who is now rather distant from Shaftesbury
himself. Moreover, these works (along with the images) were very
much a part of the eighteenth century's familiarity with this work.
A guiding principle of this edition has been to invite the modern
reader into it. Shaftesbury's main audience may have been
those who were educated but who may not have been specialists or
scholars. We therefore sought to produce an attractive ``readable''
edition. Apart from modernizing the letters, we have taken some
other steps to make the text accessible to modern readers.The text
of the Characteristicks contains many Latin and Greek quotations.
xiii
xiv A NOTE ON THE TEXT
Today, even scholarly audiences, unless specially trained, are not
able to read through these easily. In the Robertson edition--the
most familiar English-language edition of the twentieth century--
most of these passages have been translated in footnotes.We have
done the opposite. We have moved the Robertson translations
to the body of the text and the original language quotations to
the footnotes. Because Robertson was the most extant edition of
the twentieth century, we have kept his translations. However,
Dr. Evanthia Speliotis reviewed the translations of the Greek, and
Daniel Mahoney and Kathleen Alvis reviewed the translations of
the Latin to see if there were any egregious errors. They also did
the translations for those passages that Robertson somehow failed
to translate. Unless we found a serious error or other fatal flaw, we
retained the Robertson translation even if a ``better'' or more literal
rendering could be imagined.
This edition of the Characteristicks is in three volumes, as the
original was. Included is Shaftesbury's original index. This index
has sometimes been abandoned in later editions on the grounds
that it was an inadequate and outmoded search device. It was, however,
an index Shaftesbury did himself. It is often rather unusual in
its entries (see for example what he has listed under ``philosophy''),
and for that reason may be useful as a tool of interpretation. Rather
than transfer Shaftesbury's page numbers listed in the index into
our own, we have inserted them in brackets in the margins, with
the precise point where the page begins indicated by an inverted
caret A in the text. Shaftesbury's footnote cross-references also refer
to these pages. Including the original page numbers has an additional
advantage when it comes to the images. With each image
that began an essay, Shaftesbury offered the page numbers where
passages could be found that help to explain the meaning of the
image. Retaining the original page numbers allows this referencing
to be more easily accomplished.
Finally, we have sought to keep the text as free as possible from
scholarly apparatus and commentary. There are recent scholarly
editions of the Characteristicks in English, most notably the one
A NOTE ON THE TEXT xv
by Lawrence Klein for Cambridge University Press and the one by
Philip Ayres for Oxford University Press. These editions are well
worth consultation. The Liberty Fund publishing mission, however,
is one that generally seeks to minimize such insertions whenever
possible. In the end, our hope--somewhat like Shaftesbury's
own--is to have an edition that engages any educated reader as
well as the scholar.
VOLUME I
A Letter concerning ENTHUSIASM.
Sensus Communis; an Essay on the Freedom
of WIT and HUMOUR.
Soliloquy, or Advice to an AUTHOR.
VOLUME II
An Inquiry concerning VIRTUE and MERIT.
The MORALISTS; a Philosophical Rhapsody.
VOLUME III
MISCELLANEOUS REFLECTIONS on the said
Treatises, and other critical Subjects.
A Notion of the Historical Draught, or Tablature
of the Judgment of HERCULES. With a
Letter concerning DESIGN.
haracteristicks
VOLUME I
A Letter concerning ENTHUSIASM.
Sensus Communis; an Essay on the Freedom
of WIT and HUMOUR.
Soliloquy, or Advice to an AUTHOR.
Printed in the Year M.DCC.XXXII.
PREFACE
I
F the Author of these united Tracts had been any Friend to PREFACES,
he wou'd probably have made his Entrance after that manner,
in one or other of the Five Treatises formerly publish'd apart.
But as to all Prefatory or Dedicatory Discourse, he has told us his
Mind sufficiently, in that Treatise which he calls SOLILOQUY. Being
satisfy'd however, that there are manyAPersons who esteem these Intro- [iv]
ductory Pieces as very essential in the Constitution of a Work; he has
thought fit, in behalf of his honest Printer, to substitute these Lines
under the Title of A PREFACE; and to declare, ``That (according to his
best Judgment and Authority) these Presents ought to pass, and be receiv'd,
constru'd, and taken, as satisfactory in full, for all Preliminary
Composition, Dedication, direct or indirect Application for Favour to
the Publick, or to any private Patron, or Party whatsoever: Nothing
to the contrary appearing to him, from the side of Truth, or Reason.''
Witness his Hand, this Fifth Day of December, 1710.
A.A.C.A.N.A.AE.
C.M.D.C.L.X.X.J.
xxi
TREATISE I
V I Z.
A LETTER
CONCERNING
ENTHUSIASM,
TO
My Lord Sommers.
hat is to prevent one from telling
the truth as he laughs? * Hor. Sat. 1.
Printed first in the Year M.DCC.VIII.
*Ridentem dicere Verum
Quid vetat?
A LETTER , c.
MY LORD, Sept. 1707.
N
OW, you are return'd to . . . . . and before the Season
comes which must engage you in the weightier Matters
of State; if you care to be entertain'd a-while with a sort
of idle Thoughts, such as pretend only to Amusement, and have
no relation to Business or Affairs, you may cast your Eye slightly
on what you have before you; and if there be any thing inviting,
you may read it over at your leisure.A [4]
It has been an establish'd Custom for Poets, at the entrance of
their Work, to address themselves to some Muse: and this Practice
of the Antients has gain'd so much Repute, that even in ourdays we
find it almost constantly imitated. I cannot but fansy however, that
this Imitation, which passes so currently with other Judgments,
must at some time or other have stuck a little with your Lordship;
who is us'd to examine Things by a better Standard than that of
Fashion or the common Taste. You must certainly have observ'd
3
4 A LETTER
Sect. 1. our Poets under a remarkable Constraint, when oblig'd to assume
this Character: and you have wonder'd, perhaps, why that Air of
Enthusiasm, which fits so gracefully with an Antient, shou'd be so
spiritless and aukard in a Modern. But as to this Doubt,your Lordship
wou'd have soon resolv'd your-self: and it cou'd only serve to
bring a-cross you a Reflection you have often made,on manyoccasions
besides; That Truth is the most powerful thing in the World,
since even Fiction *it-self must be govern'd by it, and can only
please by its resemblance. The Appearance of Reality is necessary
to make any Passion agreeably represented: and to be able to move
others, we must first be mov'd ourselves, or at least seem to be so,
upon some probable Grounds. Now what possibilityAis there that a[5]
Modern, who is known never to have worship'd APOLLO, or own'd
any such Deity as the Muses, shou'd persuade us to enter into his
pretended Devotion, and move us by his feign'd Zeal in a Religion
out of date? But as for the Antients, 'tis known they deriv'd both
their Religion and Polity from the Muses Art. How natural therefore
must it have appear'd in any, but especially a Poet of those
times, to address himself in Raptures of Devotion to those acknowledg'd
Patronesses of Wit and Science? Here the Poet might
with probability feign an Extasy, tho he really felt none: and supposing
it to have been mere Affectation, it wou'd look however like
something natural, and cou'd not fail of pleasing.
But perhaps, my Lord, there was a further Mystery in the case.
Men, your Lordship knows, are wonderfully happy in a Faculty of
deceiving themselves, whenever they set heartily about it: and a
very small Foundation of any Passion will serve us, not only to act
it well, but even to work our-selves into it beyond our own reach.
Thus, by a little Affectation in Love-Matters, and with the help of
a Romance or Novel, a Boyof Fifteen,ora grave Man of Fifty, may
be sure to grow a very natural Coxcomb, and feel the Belle Passion
in good earnest. A Man of tolerable Good-Nature, who happens
to be aA little piqu'd, may, by improving his Resentment, become[6]
* Infra, p. 142, &c. and VOL. III. p. 260, &c.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 5
Sect. 1.a very Fury for Revenge. Even a good Christian, who wou'd needs
be over-good, and thinks he can never believe enough, may, by a
small Inclination well improv'd, extend his Faith so largely, as to
comprehend in it not only all Scriptural and Traditional Miracles,
but a solid System of Old-Wives Storys. Were it needful, I cou'd
put your Lordship in mind of an Eminent, Learned, and truly
Christian Prelate you once knew, who cou'd have given you a full
account of his Belief in Fairys. And this, methinks, may serve to
make appear, how far an antient Poeťs Faith might possibly have
been rais'd, together with his Imagination.
But we Christians, who have such ample Faith our-selves, will
allow nothing to poor Heathens. They must be Infidels in every
sense.We will not allow 'em to believe so much as their own Religion;
which we cry is too absurd to have been credited by any besides
the mere Vulgar. But if a Reverend Christian Prelate may be
so great a Volunteer in Faith, as beyond the ordinary Prescription
of the Catholick Church, to believe in Fairys; why may not a Heathen
Poet, in the ordinary wayof his Religion, be allow'd to believe
in Muses? For these, your Lordship knows, were so many Divine
Persons in the Heathen Creed,A and were essential in their System [7]
of Theology. The Goddesses had their Temples and Worship, the
same as the other Deitys: And to disbelieve the Holy Nine, or their
APOLLO, was the same as to deny JOVE himself; and must have
been esteem'd equally profane and atheistical by the generality of
sober Men. Now what a mighty advantage must it have been to an
antient Poet to be thus orthodox, and by the help of his Education,
and a Good-will into the bargain, to work himself up to the Belief
of a Divine Presence and Heavenly Inspiration? It was never surely
the business of Poets in those days to call Revelation in question,
when it evidently made so well for their Art. On the contrary, they
cou'd not fail to animate their Faith as much as possible; when by
a single Act of it, well inforc'd, they cou'd raise themselves into
such Angelical Company.
How much the Imagination of such a Presence must exalt a
Genius, we may observe merely from the Influence which an ordi-
6 A LETTER
Sect. 2. nary Presence has over Men. Our modern Wits are more or less
rais'd by the Opinion they have of their Company, and the Idea
they form to themselves of the Persons to whom they make their
Addresses. A common Actor of the Stage will inform us how much
a full Audience of the Better Sort exalts him above the commonA[8]
pitch. And you, my Lord, who are the noblest Actor, and of the
noblest Part assign'd to any Mortal on this earthly Stage, when
you are acting for Liberty and Mankind; does not the publick Presence,
that of your Friends, and the Well-wishers to your Cause,
add something to your Thought and Genius? Or is that Sublime
of Reason, and that Power of Eloquence, which you discover in
publick, no more than what you are equally Master of, in private;
and can command at any time, alone, or with indifferent Company,
or in any easy or cool hour? This indeed were more Godlike;
but ordinary Humanity, I think, reaches not so high.
For my own part, my Lord, I have really so much need of some
considerable Presence or Company to raise my Thoughts on any
occasion, that when alone, I must endeavour by strength of Fancy
to supply this want; and in default of a Muse, must inquire out
some Great Man of a more than ordinary Genius, whose imagin'd
Presence may inspire me with more than what I feel at ordinary
hours. And thus, my Lord, have I chosen to address my-self toyour
Lordship; tho without subscribing my Name: allowing you as a
Stranger, the full liberty of reading no more than what you may
have a fansy for; but reserving to my-self the privilege of imagining
youA read all, with particular notice, as a Friend, and one[9]
whom I may justifiably treat with the Intimacyand Freedom which
follows.
S E C T I O N I I
IF the knowing well how to expose any Infirmity or Vice were a
sufficient Security for the Virtue which is contrary, how excellent
an Age might we be presum'd to live in! Never was there in our
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 7
Sect. 2.Nation a time known, when Folly and Extravagance of every kind
were more sharply inspected, or more wittily ridicuľd. And one
might hope at least from this good Symptom, that our Age was in
no declining state; since whatever our Distempers are, we stand so
well affected to our Remedys.To bear the being told of Faults, is in
private Persons the best token of Amendment. 'Tis seldom that a
Publick is thus dispos'd. For where Jealousyof State,or the ill Lives
of the Great People, or any other Cause is powerful enough to restrain
the Freedom of Censure in any part, it in effect destroys the
Benefit of it in the whole. There can be no impartial and free Censure
of Manners where any peculiar Custom or National Opinion
is set apart, and not only exempted from Criticism, but even flatter'd
with the highest Art. 'Tis only in a free Nation, such as ours,
that Imposture has no Privilege; andAthat neither the Credit of a [10]
Court, the Power of a Nobility, nor the Awefulness of a Church
can give her Protection, or hinder her from being arraign'd in every
Shape and Appearance. 'Tis true, this Liberty may seem to run
too far. We may perhaps be said to make ill use of it.--So every
one will say, when he himself is touch'd, and his Opinion freely
examin'd. But who shall be Judg of what may be freely examin'd,
and what may not? Where Liberty may be us'd; and where it may
not? What Remedy shall we prescribe to this in general? Can there
be a better than from that Liberty it-self which is complain'd of?
If Men are vicious, petulant or abusive; the Magistrate may correct
them: But if they reason ill, 'tis Reason still must teach 'em
to do better. Justness of Thought and Style, Refinement in Manners,
good Breeding, and Politeness of every kind, can come only
from the Trial and Experience of what is best. Let but the Search
go freely on, and the right Measure of every thing will soon be
found. Whatever Humour has got the start, if it be unnatural, it
cannot hold; and the Ridicule, if ill plac'd at first, will certainly fall
at last where it deserves.
I have often wonder'd to see Men of Sense so mightily alarm'd
at the approach of any thing like Ridicule on certain SubAjects; as [11]
if they mistrusted their own Judgment. For what Ridicule can
8 A LETTER
Sect. 2. lie against Reason? Or how can any one of the least Justness of
Thought endure a Ridicule wrong plac'd? Nothing is more ridiculous
than this it-self. The Vulgar, indeed, may swallow any sordid
Jest, any mere Drollery or Buffoonery; but it must be a finer and
truer Wit which takes with the Men of Sense and Breeding. How
comes it to pass then, that we appear such Cowards in reasoning,
and are so afraid to stand the Test of Ridicule?--O! say we, the
Subjects are too grave.--Perhaps so: but let us see first whether
they are really grave or no: for in the manner we may conceive 'em,
they may peradventure be very grave and weighty in our Imagination;
but very ridiculous and impertinent in their own nature.
Gravity is of the very Essence of Imposture. It does not only make
us mistake other things, but is apt perpetually almost to mistake
it-self. For even in common Behaviour, how hard is it for the grave
Character to keep long out of the limits of the formal one? We can
never be too grave, if we can be assur'd we are really what we suppose.
And we can never too much honour or revere any thing for
grave; if we are assur'd the Thing is grave, as we apprehend it. The
main Point is to know always true Gravity from the false: and this
can only be, by carrying the RuleA constantly with us, and freely[12]
applying it not only to the Things about us, but to our-selves. For
if unhappily we lose the Measure in our-selves, we shall soon lose
it in every thing besides. Now what Rule or Measure is there in the
World, except in the considering of the real Temper of Things, to
find which are truly serious, and which ridiculous? And how can
this be done, unless by *applying the Ridicule, to see whether it will
bear? But if we fear to apply this Rule in any thing, what Security
can we have against the Imposture of Formality in all things? We
have allow'd our-selves to be Formalists in one Point; and the same
Formality may rule us as it pleases in all other.
'Tis not in every Disposition that we are capacitated to judg of
things.We must beforehand judg of our own Temper, and accordingly
of other things which fall under our Judgment. But we must
* Infra, pag. 61, 74.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 9
Sect. 2.never more pretend to judg of things, or of our own Temper in
judging them, when we have given up our preliminary Right of
Judgment, and under a presumption of Gravity, have allow'd ourselves
to be most ridiculous, and to admire profoundly the most
ridiculous things in nature, at least for ought we know. For having
resolv'd never to try, we can never be sure.A [13]
*A jest often decides weighty matters better and more forcibly
than can asperity.
This, my Lord, I may safely aver, is so true in it-self, and so well
known for Truth by the cunning Formalists of the Age, that they
can better bear to have their Impostures raiľd at,with all the Bitterness
and Vehemence imaginable, than to have them touch'd ever
so gently in this other way. They know very well, that as Modes
and Fashions, so Opinions, tho ever so ridiculous, are kept up by
Solemnity: and that those formal Notions which grew up probably
in an ill Mood, and have been conceiv'd in sober Sadness, are
never to be remov'd but in a sober kind of Chearfulness, and by
a more easy and pleasant way of Thought. There is a Melancholy
which accompanys all Enthusiasm. Be it Love or Religion (for there
are Enthusiasms in both) nothing can put a stop to the growing
mischief of either, till the Melancholy be remov'd, and the Mind
at liberty to hear what can be said against the Ridiculousness of an
Extreme in either way.
It was heretofore the Wisdom of some wise Nations, to let
People be Fools as much as they pleas'd, and never to punishA seri- [14]
ously what deserv'd only to be laugh'd at, and was, after all, best
cur'd by that innocent Remedy. There are certain Humours in
Mankind, which of necessity must have vent. The Human Mind
and Body are both of 'em naturally subject to Commotions: and
as there are strange Ferments in the Blood, which in many Bodys
* Ridiculum acri
Fortius & melius magnas plerumque secat res.
Hor. Sat. 10.
10 A LETTER
Sect. 2. occasion an extraordinary Discharge; so in Reason too, there are
heterogeneous Particles which must be thrown off by Fermentation.
Shou'd Physicians endeavour absolutely to allay those Ferments
of the Body, and strike in the Humours which discover
themselves in such Eruptions, they might, instead of making a
Cure, bid fair perhaps to raise a Plague, and turn a Spring-Ague or
an Autumn-Surfeit into an epidemical malignant Fever. They are
certainly as ill Physicians in the Body-Politick, who wou'd needs be
tampering with these mental Eruptions; and under the specious
pretence of healing this Itch of Superstition, and saving Souls from
the Contagion of Enthusiasm, shou'd set all Nature in an uproar,
and turn a few innocent Carbuncles into an Inflammation and
mortal Gangrene.
We read *in History that PAN, when he accompany'd BACCHUS
in an Expedition to the Indies, found means to strike aATerror thro'[15]
a Host of Enemys, by the help of a small Company, whose Clamors
he manag'd to good advantage among the echoing Rocks and
Caverns of a woodyVale.The hoarse bellowing of the Caves, join'd
to the hideous aspect of such dark and desart Places, rais'd such
a Horror in the Enemy, that in this state their Imagination help'd
'em to hear Voices, and doubtless to see Forms too, which were
more than Human: whilst the Uncertainty of what they fear'd
made their Fear yet greater, and spread it faster by implicit Looks
than any Narration cou'd convey it. And this was what in aftertimes
Men calľd a Panick. The Story indeed gives a good Hint
of the nature of this Passion, which can hardly be without some
mixture of Enthusiasm, and Horrors of a superstitious kind.
One may with good reason call every Passion Panick which is
rais'd in a Multitude, and convey'd by Aspect, or as it were by
Contact or Sympathy. Thus popular Fury may be calľd Panick,
when the Rage of the People, as we have sometimes known, has
put them beyond themselves; especially where Religion has had to
* Polyaeni Strateg. lib. 1. c. 2.
 Infra, p. 45 and VOL. III. p. 66 in the Notes.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 11
Sect. 2.do. And in this state their very Looks are infectious. The Fury flies
from Face to Face: and the Disease is no sooner seen than caught.
They who in a better SituaAtion of Mind have beheld a Multitude [16]
under the power of this Passion, have own'd that they saw in the
Countenances of Men something more ghastly and terrible than
at other times is express'd on the most passionate occasion. Such
force has *Society in ill, as well as in good Passions: and so much
stronger any Affection is for being social and communicative.
Thus, my Lord, there are many Panicks in Mankind, besides
merely that of Fear. And thus is Religion also Panick; when Enthusiasm
of any kind gets up; as oft, on melancholy occasions, it will.
For Vapours naturally rise; and in bad times especially, when the
Spirits of Men are low, as either in publick Calamitys, or during
the Unwholesomeness of Air or Diet, or when Convulsions happen
in Nature, Storms, Earthquakes,orotheramazing Prodigys: at
this season the Panick must needs run high, and the Magistrate of
necessity give way to it. For to apply a serious Remedy, and bring
the Sword, or Fasces, as a Cure, must make the Case more melancholy,
and increase the very Cause of the Distemper. To forbid
Mens natural Fears, and to endeavour the over-powering them by
other Fears, must needs be a most unnatural MeAthod. The Magis- [17]
trate, if he be any Artist, shou'd have a gentler hand; and instead of
Causticks, Incisions, and Amputations, shou'd be using the softest
Balms; and with a kind Sympathy entering into the Concern of
the People, and taking, as it were, their Passion upon him, shou'd,
when he has sooth'd and satisfy'd it, endeavour, by chearful ways,
to divert and heal it.
This was antient Policy: and hence (as a notable Author of our
Nation expresses it) 'tis necessary a People shou'd have a Publick
Leading in Religion. For to deny the Magistrate a Worship, or take
away a National Church, is as mere Enthusiasm as the Notion
which sets up Persecution. For why shou'd there not be publick
* Infra, p. 110, &c. and VOL. II. p. 100, 106, &c. 127, &c.
 HARRINGTON.
12 A LETTER
Sect. 2. Walks, as well as private Gardens? Why not publick Librarys,
as well as private Education and Home-Tutors? But to prescribe
bounds to Fancyand Speculation, to regulate Mens Apprehensions
and religious Beliefs or Fears, to suppress by Violence the natural
Passion of Enthusiasm, or to endeavour to ascertain it, or reduce it
to one Species, or bring it under any one Modification, is in truth
no better Sense, nor deserves a better Character, than what the
*Comedian declares of the like Project in the Affair of Love--A[18]
1You will manage it no better than if you undertook to be
rationally insane.
Not only the Visionarys and Enthusiasts of all kinds were tolerated,
your Lordship knows, by the Antients; but on the other side,
Philosophy had as free a course, and was permitted as a Ballance
against Superstition. And whilst some Sects, such as the Pythagorean
and latter Platonick, join'd in with the Superstition and Enthusiasm
of the Times; the Epicurean, the Academick, and others,
were allow'd to use all the Force of Wit and Railleryagainst it. And
thus matters were happily balanc'd; Reason had fair Play; Learning
and Science flourish'd.Wonderful was the Harmony and Temper
which arose from all these Contrarietys.Thus Superstition and
Enthusiasm were mildly treated; and being let alone, they never
rag'd to that degree as to occasion Bloodshed,Wars, Persecutions
and Devastations in the World. But a new sort of Policy, which extends
it-self to another World, and considers the future Lives and
Happiness of Men rather than the present, has made us leap the
Bounds of natural Humanity; and out of a supernatural Charity,
has taught us the way of plaguing one another most devoutly. It
has rais'd an Antipathy which no temporal Interest cou'd ever do;
and entaiľdAupon us a mutual Hatred to all Eternity. And now[19]
* Ter. Eun. Act. 1. Sc. 1.
1 Nihilo plus agas
Qum si des operam ut cum ratione insanias.
--Terence, Eunuchus, Act. i, Sc. 1.
 VOL. III. p. 59, 60, &c. 80, 81, &c.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 13
Sect. 2.Uniformity in Opinion (a hopeful Project!) is look'd on as the only
Expedient against this Evil. The saving of Souls is now the heroick
Passion of exalted Spirits; and is become in a manner the chief
Care of the Magistrate, and the very End of Government it-self.
If Magistracy shou'd vouchsafe to interpose thus much in other
Sciences, I am afraid we shou'd have as bad Logick, as bad Mathematicks,
and in every kind as bad Philosophy, as we often have
Divinity, in Countrys where a precise Orthodoxy is settled by Law.
'Tis a hard matter for a Government to settle Wit. If it does but
keep us sober and honest, 'tis likely we shall have as much Ability
in our spiritual as in our temporal Affairs: and if we can but be
trusted, we shall have Wit enough to save our-selves, when no
Prejudice lies in theway. But if Honestyand Wit be insufficient for
this saving Work, 'tis in vain for the Magistrate to meddle with it:
since if he be ever so virtuous or wise, he may be as soon mistaken
as another Man. I am sure the only way to save Mens Sense, or
preserveWit at all in theWorld, is to give Liberty toWit. NowWit
can never have its Liberty, where the Freedom of Raillery is taken
away: For against serious Extravagances and spleneAtick Humours [20]
there is no other Remedy than this.
We have indeed full power over all other Modifications of
Spleen.We may treat other Enthusiasms as we please.We may ridicule
Love, or Gallantry, or Knight-Errantry to the utmost; and we
find, that in these latter days of Wit, the Humour of this kind,
which was once so prevalent, is pretty well declin'd.The Crusades,
the rescuing of Holy Lands, and such devout Gallantrys are in less
request than formerly: But if something of this militant Religion,
something of this Soul-rescuing Spirit, and Saint-Errantry prevails
still, we need not wonder, when we consider in how solemn a manner
we treat this Distemper, and how preposterously we go about
to cure Enthusiasm.
I can hardly forbear fansying, that if we had a sort of Inquisition,or
formal Court of Judicature,with grave Officers and Judges,
erected to restrain Poetical Licence, and in general to suppress that
Fancy and Humour of Versification; but in particular that most
14 A LETTER
Sect. 3. extravagant Passion of Love, as it is set out by Poets, in its Heathenish
Dress of VENUS's and CUPIDS: if the Poets, as Ringleaders
and Teachers of this Heresy, were, under grievous Penaltys, forbid
to enchant theAPeople by their vein of Rhyming; and if the People,[21]
on the other side, were, under proportionable Penaltys, forbid to
hearken to any such Charm, or lend their Attention to any LoveTale,
so much as in a Play, a Novel, or a Ballad; we might perhaps
see a new Arcadia arising out of this heavy Persecution: Old People
and Young would be seiz'd with a versifying Spirit: We shou'd have
Field-Conventicles of Lovers and Poets: Forests wou'd be filľd with
romantick Shepherds and Shepherdesses; and Rocks resound with
Echoes of Hymns and Praises offer'd to the Powers of Love. We
might indeed have a fair Chance, by this Management, to bring
back the whole Train of Heathen Gods, and set our cold Northern
Island burning with as many Altars to VENUS and APOLLO,
as were formerly in Cyprus, Delos, or any of those warmer Grecian
Climates.
S E C T I O N I I I
BU T, my Lord, you may perhaps wonder, that having been
drawn into such a serious Subject as Religion, I shou'd forget
my self so far as to give way to Raillery and Humour. I must own,
my Lord, 'tis not merely thro' Chance that this has happen'd. To
say truth, I hardly care so much as to think on this Subject, muchA[22]
less to write on it, without endeavouring to put my self in as good
Humour as is possible. People indeed, who can endure no middle
Temper, but are all Airand Humour, know little of the Doubts and
Scruples of Religion, and are safe from any immediate Influence
of devout Melancholy or Enthusiasm; which requires more Deliberation
and thoughtful Practice to fix it-self in a Temper, and grow
habitual. But be the Habit what it will; to be deliver'd of it at so
sad a Cost as Inconsiderateness, or Madness, is what I wou'd never
wish to be my Lot. I had rather stand all Adventures with Religion,
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 15
Sect. 3.than endeavour to get rid of the Thoughts of it by Diversion. All I
contend for, is to think of it in a right Humour: and that this goes
more than half-way towards thinking rightly of it, is what I shall
endeavour to demonstrate.
Good Humour is not only the best Security against Enthusiasm,
but the best Foundation of Piety and true Religion: For if right
Thoughts and worthy Apprehensions of the Supreme Being, are
fundamental to all true Worship and Adoration; 'tis more than
probable, that we shall never miscarry in this respect, except thro'
ill Humour only. Nothing beside ill Humour, either natural or
forc'd, can bring a Man to think seriously that theA World is gov- [23]
ern'd by any devilish or malicious Power. I very much question
whether any thing, besides ill Humour, can be the Cause of Atheism.
For there are so many Arguments to persuade a Man in Humour,
that, in the main, all things are kindly and well dispos'd,
that one wou'd think it impossible for him to be so far out of conceit
with Affairs, as to imagine they all ran at adventures; and that
the World, as venerable and wise a Face as it carry'd, had neither
Sense nor Meaning in it. This however I am persuaded of, that
nothing beside ill Humour can give us dreadful or ill Thoughts
of a Supreme Manager. Nothing can persuade us of Sullenness or
Sourness in such a Being, beside the actual fore-feeling of somewhat
of this kind within our-selves: and if we are afraid of bringing
good Humour into Religion, or thinking with Freedom and Pleasantness
on such a Subject as GOD; 'tis because we conceive the
Subject so like our-selves, and can hardly have a Notion of Majesty
and Greatness, without Stateliness and Moroseness accompanying it.
This, however, is the just Reverse of that Character, which we
own to be most divinely Good, when we see it, as we sometimes do,
in Men of highest Power among us. If they pass for truly Good, we
dare treat them freely, and are sure they willAnot be displeas'd with [24]
this Liberty. They are doubly Gainers by this Goodness of theirs.
For the more they are search'd into, and familiarly examin'd, the
more their Worth appears; and the Discoverer, charm'd with his
Success, esteems and loves more than ever, when he has prov'd this
16 A LETTER
Sect. 3. additional Bounty in his Superior, and reflects on that Candor and
Generosity he has experienc'd.Your Lordship knows more perhaps
of this Mystery than anyone. How else shou'd you have been so
belov'd in Power, and out of Power so adher'd to, and still more
belov'd?
Thank Heaven! there are even in our own Age some such Examples.
In former Ages there have been many such. We have
known mighty Princes, and even Emperors of the World, who
cou'd bear unconcernedly, not only the free Censure of their Actions,
but the most spiteful Reproaches and Calumnys, even to
their faces. Some perhaps may wish there had never been such Examples
found in Heathens; but more especially, that the occasion
had never been given by Christians. 'Twas more the Misfortune
indeed of Mankind in general, than of Christians in particular,
that some of the earlier Roman Emperors were such Monsters of
Tyranny, and began a Persecution, not on religious Men merely,
but on all who wereA suspected of Worth or Virtue. What cou'd[25]
have been a higher Honour or Advantage to Christianity, than to
be persecuted bya NERO? But better Princes,who came after,were
persuaded to remit these severe Courses. 'Tis true, the Magistrate
might possibly have been surpriz'd with the newness of a Notion,
which he might pretend, perhaps, did not only destroy the Sacredness
of his Power, but treated him and all Men as profane, impious,
and damn'd, who enter'd not into certain particular Modes
of Worship; of which there had been formerly so many thousand
instituted, all of 'em compatible and sociable till that time. However,
such was the Wisdom of some succeeding Ministrys, that the
Edge of Persecution was much abated; and even that *Prince, who
was esteem'd the greatest Enemy of the Christian Sect, and who
himself had been educated in it, was a great Restrainer of Persecution,
and wou'd allow of nothing further than a Resumption of
Church-Lands and publick Schools, without any attempt on the
Goods or Persons even of those who branded the State-Religion,
and made a Merit of affronting the publick Worship.
* See VOL. III. p. 87, 88, 89. in the Notes.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 17
Sect. 3.'Tis well we have the Authority of a sacred Author in our Religion,
to assure us,A that the Spirit of *Love and Humanity is above [26]
that of Martyrs. Otherwise, one might be a little scandaliz'd, perhaps,
at the History of many of our primitive Confessors and Martyrs,
even according to our own accounts. There is hardly now in
the World so good a Christian (if this be indeed the Mark of a
good one) who, if he happen'd to live at Constantinople, or elsewhere
under the Protection of the Turks, would think it fitting or
decent to give any Disturbance to their Mosque-Worship. And as
good Protestants, my Lord, as you and I are, we shou'd consider
him as little better than a rank Enthusiast, who, out of hatred to
the Romish Idolatry, shou'd, in time of high Mass (where Mass
perhaps was by Law establish'd) interrupt the Priest with Clamors,
or fall foul on his Images and Relicks.
There are some, it seems, of our good Brethren, the French
Protestants, lately come among us, who are mightily taken with
this Primitive way. They have set a-foot the Spirit of Martyrdom
to a wonder in their own Country; and they long to be trying it
here, if we will give 'em leave, and afford 'em the Occasion: that
is to say, if we will only do 'em the favour to hang or imprison
'em; if weA will only be so obliging as to break their Bones for 'em, [27]
after their Country-fashion, blow up their Zeal, and stir a-fresh
the Coals of Persecution. But no such Grace can they hitherto obtain
of us. So hard-hearted we are, that notwithstanding their own
Mob are willing to bestow kind Blows upon 'em, and fairly stone
'em now and then in the open Street; tho the Priests of their own
Nation wou'd gladly give 'em their desir'd Discipline, and are earnest
to light their probationary Fires for 'em; we English Men, who
are Masters in our own Country, will not suffer the Enthusiasts
to be thus us'd. Nor can we be suppos'd to act thus in envy to
their Phenix-Sect, which it seems has risen out of the Flames, and
wou'd willingly grow to be a new Church by the same manner of
Propagation as the old-one, whose Seed was truly said to be from
the Blood of the Martyrs.
* 1 Cor. ch. xiii. ver. 3.
18 A LETTER
Sect. 3. But how barbarous still, and more than heathenishly cruel,
are we tolerating English Men! For, not contented to deny these
prophesying Enthusiasts the Honour of a Persecution, we have
deliver'd 'em over to the cruellest Contempt in the World. I am
told, for certain, that they are at *this very time the Subject of aA[28]
choice Droll or Puppet-Show at Barťlemy-Fair. There, doubtless,
their strange Voices and involuntary Agitations are admirably well
acted, by the Motion of Wires, and Inspiration of Pipes. For the
Bodys of the Prophets, in their State of Prophecy, being not in
theirown power, but (as they say themselves) mere passive Organs,
actuated by an exterior Force, have nothing natural, or resembling
real Life, in any of their Sounds or Motions: so that how aukardly
soever a Puppet-Show may imitate other Actions, it must needs
represent this Passion to the Life. And whilst Barťlemy-Fair is in
possession of this Privilege, I dare stand Security to our National
Church, that no Sect of Enthusiasts, no new Venders of Prophecy
or Miracles, shall ever get the start, or put her to the trouble of
trying her Strength with 'em, in any Case.
Happy it was for us, that when Popery had got possession,
Smithfield was us'd in a more tragical way. Many of our first Reformers,
'tis fear'd, were little better than Enthusiasts: and God
knows whetheraWarmth of this kind did not considerably help us
in throwing off that spiritual Tyranny. So that had not the Priests,
as is usual, prefer'd the love of Blood to all other Passions, they
might in a merrier way, perhaps, have evaded the greatestA Force[29]
of our reforming Spirit. I never heard that the antient Heathens
were so well advis'd in their ill Purpose of suppressing the Christian
Religion in its first Rise, as to make use, at any time, of this
Barťlemy-Fair Method. But this I am persuaded of, that had the
Truth of the Gospel been any way surmountable, they wou'd have
bid much fairer for the silencing it, if they had chosen to bring our
primitive Founders upon the Stage in a pleasanter way than that
of Bear-Skins and Pitch-Barrels.
* Viz. Anno 1707.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 19
Sect. 3.The Jews were naturally a very *cloudy People, and wou'd endure
little Raillery in any thing; much less in what belong'd to any
religious Doctrines or Opinions. Religion was look'd upon with a
sullen Eye; and Hanging was the only Remedy theycou'd prescribe
for any thing which look'd like setting up a new Revelation. The
sovereign Argument was, Crucify, Crucify. But with all their Malice
and Inveteracy to our Saviour, and his Apostles after him, had
they but taken the Fancy to act such Puppet-Shows in his Contempt,
as at this hour the Papists are acting in his Honour; I am apt
to thinkAthey might possibly have done our Religion more harm, [30]
than by all their other ways of Severity.
I believe our great and learned Apostle found less Advantage
from the easy Treatment of his Athenian Antagonists, than from
the surly and curst Spirit of the most persecuting Jewish Citys. He
made less Improvement of the Candor and Civility of his Roman
Judges, than of the Zeal of the Synagogue, and Vehemence of his
National Priests. Tho when I consider this Apostle as appearing
either before the witty Athenians, or before a Roman Court of Judicature,
in the Presence of their great Men and Ladys, and see how
handsomly he accommodates himself to the Apprehensions and
Temper of those politer People: I do not find that he declines the
way of Wit or good Humour; but, without suspicion of his Cause,
is willing generously to commit it to this Proof, and try it against
the Sharpness of any Ridicule which might be offer'd.
But tho the Jews were never pleas'd to try theirWit or Malice this
way againstAour Saviour or his Apostles; the irreligious part of the [31]
Heathens had try'd it long before against the best Doctrines and
best Characters of Men which had ever arisen amongst 'em. Nor
* Our Author having been censur'd for this and some following Passages concerning
the Jews, the Reader is referr'd to the Notes and Citations in VOL. III. p. 53,
4, 5, 6. And, ibid. 115, 116, &c. See also below, p. 282, 283.
 What Advantage he made of his Sufferings, and how pathetically his Bonds and
Stripes were set toview, and often pleaded by him, to raise his Character, and advance
the Interest of Christianity, any one who reads his Epistles, and is well acquainted
with his Manner and Style, may easily observe.
20 A LETTER
Sect. 4. did this prove in the end an Injury, but on the contrary the highest
Advantage to those very Characters and Doctrines, which, having
stood the Proof, were found so solid and just. The divinest Man
who had ever appear'd in the Heathen World, was in the height
of witty Times, and by the wittiest of all Poets, most abominably
ridicuľd, in a whole Comedy writ and acted on purpose. But so
far was this from sinking his Reputation, or suppressing his Philosophy,
that they each increas'd the more for it; and he apparently
grew to be more the Envy of other Teachers. He was not only contented
to be ridicuľd; but, that he might help the Poet as much as
possible, he presented himself openly in the Theater; that his real
Figure (which was no advantageous one) might be compar'd with
that which the witty Poet had brought as his Representative on the
Stage. Such was his good Humour! Nor cou'd there be in the World
a greater Testimony of the invincible Goodness of the Man, or a
greater Demonstration, that there was no Imposture either in his
Character or Opinions. For that Imposture shou'd dare sustain the
Encounter of a grave Enemy, isA no wonder. A solemn Attack, she[32]
knows, is not of such danger to her. There is nothing she abhors
or dreads like Pleasantness and good Humour.
S E C T I O N I V
IN short, my Lord, the melancholy way of treating Religion is
that which, according to my apprehension, renders it so tragical,
and is the occasion of its acting in reality such dismal Tragedys
in the World. And my Notion is, that provided we treat Religion
with good Manners, we can never use too much good Humour, or
examine it with too much Freedom and Familiarity. For, if it be
genuine and sincere, it will not only stand the Proof, but thrive
and gain advantage from hence: if it be spurious, or mix'd with
any Imposture, it will be detected and expos'd.
The melancholy way in which we have been taught Religion,
makes us unapt to think of it in good Humour. 'Tis in Adversity
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 21
Sect. 4.chiefly, or in ill Health, under Affliction, or Disturbance of Mind,
or Discomposure of Temper, that we have recourse to it. Tho in
reality we are never so unfit to think of it as at such a heavy and
dark hour.We can never be fit to contemplate any thing above us,
whenAwe are in no condition to look into ourselves, and calmly ex- [33]
amine the Temper of our own Mind and Passions. For then it is we
seeWrath, and Fury, and Revenge, and Terrors in the DEITY; when
we are full of Disturbances and Fears within, and have, by Sufferance
and Anxiety, lost so much of the natural Calm and Easiness
of our Temper.
We must not only be in ordinary good Humour, but in the best
of Humours, and in the sweetest, kindest Disposition of our Lives,
to understand well what true Goodness is, and what those Attributes
imply, which we ascribe with such Applause and Honour to the
DEITY. We shall then be able to see best, whether those Forms
of Justice, those Degrees of Punishment, that Temper of Resentment,
and those Measures of Offence and Indignation, which we
vulgarly suppose in GOD, are sutable to those original Ideas of
Goodness, which the same Divine Being, or Nature under him, has
implanted in us, and which we must necessarily presuppose, in
order to give him Praise or Honour in any kind. This, my Lord,
is the Security against all Superstition: To remember, that there is
nothing in GOD but what is God-like; and that He is either not
at all, or truly and perfectly Good. But when we are afraid to use
our ReasonAfreely, even on that very Question, ``Whether He really [34]
be, or noť'; we then actually presume him bad, and flatly contradict
that pretended Character of Goodness and Greatness; whilst
we discover this Mistrust of his Temper, and fear his Anger and
Resentment, in the case of this Freedom of INQUIRY.
We have a notable Instance of this Freedom in one of our sacred
Authors. As patient as JOB is said to be, it cannot be denied that he
makes bold enough with GOD, and takes his Providence roundly
to task. His Friends, indeed, plead hard with him, and use all Arguments,
right or wrong, to patch up Objections, and set the Affairs
of Providence upon an equal foot. They make a merit of saying
22 A LETTER
Sect. 4. all the Good they can of GOD, at the very stretch of their Reason,
and sometimes quite beyond it. But this, in JOB's opinion, is
*flattering GOD, accepting of GOĎs Person, and even mocking him.
And no wonder. For, what merit can there be in believing GOD, or
his Providence, upon frivolous and weak grounds? What Virtue in
assuming an Opinion contrary to the appearance of Things, and
resolving to hear nothing which may be said against it? Excellent
Character of the GOD of Truth! that he shou'd be offended at us,
for having refus'dAto put the lye upon our Understandings, as much[35]
as in us lay; and be satisfy'd with us for having believ'd at a venture,
and against our Reason, what might have been the greatest
Falshood in the world, for any thing we cou'd bring as a Proof or
Evidence to the contrary!
It is impossible that any besides an ill-natur'd Man can wish
against the Being of a GOD: for this is wishing against the Publick,
and even against one's private Good too, if rightly understood. But
if a Man has not any such Ill-will to stifle his Belief, he must have
surely an unhappy Opinion of GOD, and believe him not so good
by far as he knows Himself to be, if he imagines that an impartial
Use of his Reason, in any matter of Speculation whatsoever, can
make him run any risk Hereafter; and that a mean Denial of his
Reason, and an Affectation of Belief in any Point too hard for his
Understanding, can intitle him to any Favour in another World.
This is being Sycophants in Religion, mere Parasites of Devotion.
'Tis using GOD as the crafty Beggars use those they address to,
when they are ignorant of their Quality.The Novices amongst 'em
may innocently come out, perhaps, with a Good Sir, or a Good Forsooth!
But with the old Stagers, no matter whom they meet in a
Coach, 'tisA always Good your Honour! or Good your Lordship! or[36]
your Ladyship! For if there shou'd be really a Lord in the case, we
shou'd be undone (say they) for want of giving the Title: but if the
Party shou'd be no Lord, there wou'd be no Offence; it wou'd not
be ill taken.
* Chap. xiii. ver. 7, 8, 9, & 10.
 VOL. III. p. 125, 6, 7, 8.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 23
Sect. 4.And thus it is in Religion. We are highly concern'd how to beg
right; and think all depends upon hitting the Title, and making a
good Guess. 'Tis the most beggarly Refuge imaginable, which is so
mightily cry'd up, and stands as a great Maxim with many able
Men; ``That they shou'd strive to have Faith, and believe to the utmost:
because if, after all, there be nothing in the matter, there will
be no harm in being thus deceiv'd; but if there be any thing, it will
be fatal for them not to have believ'd to the full.'' But they are so
far mistaken, that whilst they have this Thought, 'tis certain they
can never believe either to their Satisfaction and Happiness in this
World, or with any advantage of Recommendation to another. For
besides that our Reason, which knows the Cheat, will never rest
thorowly satisfy'd on such a Bottom, but turn us often a-drift, and
toss us in a Sea of Doubt and Perplexity; we cannot but actually
grow worse in our Religion, and entertain a worse Opinion still of
a SupremeA DEITY, whilst our Belief is founded on so injurious a [37]
Thought of him.
To love the Publick, to study universal Good, and to promote
the Interest of the whole World, as far as lies within our power, is
surely the Height of Goodness, and makes that Temper which we
call Divine. In this Temper, my Lord, (for surely you shou'd know
it well) 'tis natural for us to wish that others shou'd partake with
us, by being convinc'd of the Sincerity of our Example. 'Tis natural
for us to wish our Merit shou'd be known; particularly, if it be
our fortune to have serv'd a Nation as a good Minister; or as some
Prince, or Father of a Country, to have render'd happy a considerable
Part of Mankind under our Care. But if it happen'd, that of
this number there shou'd be some so ignorantly bred, and of so
remote a Province, as to have lain out of the hearing of our Name
and Actions; or hearing of 'em, shou'd be so puzzľd with odd and
contrary Storys told up and down concerning us, that they knew
not what to think, whether there were really in the World any such
Person as our-self: Shou'd we not, in good truth, be ridiculous to
take offence at this? And shou'd we not pass for extravagantly morose
and ill-humour'd, if instead of treating the matter in Raillery,
we shou'd think in earnestA of revenging our-selves on the offend- [38]
24 A LETTER
Sect. 5. ing Partys, who, out of their rustick Ignorance, ill Judgment, or
Incredulity, had detracted from our Renown?
How shall we say then? Does it really deserve Praise, to be thus
concern'd about it? Is the doing Good for Glory's sake, so divine
a thing? or, Is it not diviner, to do Good even where it may be
thought inglorious, even to the Ingrateful, and to those who are
wholly insensible of the Good they receive? How comes it then,
that what is so divine in us, shou'd lose its Character in the Divine
Being? And that according as the DEITY is represented to us, he
shou'd more resemble the weak, *womanish, and impotent part of
our Nature, than the generous, manly, and divine?
S E C T I O N V
ONE wou'd think, my Lord, it were in reality no hard thing to
know our own Weaknesses at first sight, and distinguish the
Features of human Frailty, with which we are so well acquainted.
One wou'd think it were easy to understand, that Provocation and
Offence, Anger, Revenge, Jealousy in point of Honour or Power,
Love of Fame, Glory, and the like, belong only to limited BeAings,[39]
and are necessarilyexcluded a Being which is perfect and universal.
But if we have never settled with our-selves any Notion of what is
morally excellent; or if we cannot trust to that Reason which tells
us, that nothing beside what is so, can have place in the DEITY; we
can neither trust to any thing which others relate of him, or which
he himself reveals to us.We must be satisfy'd before-hand, that he
is good, and cannot deceive us.Without this, there can be no real
religious Faith, or Confidence. Now, if there be really something
previous to Revelation, some antecedent Demonstration of Reason,
to assure us that GOD is, and withal, that he is so good as not
to deceive us; the same Reason, if we will trust to it, will demonstrate
to us, that GOD is so good as to exceed the very best of us in
* Infra, p. 331. And VOL. III. p. 306.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 25
Sect. 5.Goodness. And after this manner we can have no Dread or Suspicion
to render us uneasy: for it is Malice only, and not Goodness,
which can make us afraid.
There is an odd way of reasoning, but in certain Distempers
of Mind very sovereign to those who can apply it; and it is this:
``There can be no Malice but where Interests are oppos'd. A universal
Being can have no Interest opposite; and therefore can have
no Malice.'' If there be a general Mind,A it can have no particular [40]
Interest: But the general Good,or Good of theWhole, and its own
private Good, must of necessity be one and the same. It can intend
nothing besides, nor aim at any thing beyond, nor be provok'd to
any thing contrary. So that we have only to consider,whether there
be really such a thing as a Mind which has relation to the Whole, or
not. For if unhappily there be no Mind, we maycomfort our selves,
however, that Nature has no Malice: If there be really a MIND,
we may rest satisfy'd, that it is the best-natur'd one in the World.
The last Case, one wou'd imagine, shou'd be the most comfortable;
and the Notion of a common Parent less frightful than that
of forlorn Nature, and a fatherless World. Tho, as Religion stands
amongst us, there are many good People who wou'd have less Fear
in being thus expos'd; and wou'd be easier, perhaps, in their Minds,
if they were assur'd they had only mere Chance to trust to. For no
body trembles to think there shou'd be no God; but rather that
there shou'd be one. This however wou'd be otherwise, if Deity were
thought as kindly of as Humanity; and we cou'd be persuaded to
believe, that if there really was a GOD, the highest Goodness must
of necessity belong to him, without any ofAthose *Defects of Pas- [41]
sion, those Meannesses and Imperfections which we acknowledg
such in our-selves, which as good Men we endeavour all we can
to be superior to, and which we find we every day conquer as we
grow better.
* For my own part, says honest PLUTARCH, I had rather Men shou'd say of me,
``That there neither is, nor ever was such a one as PLUTARCH''; than they should say,
``There was a PLUTARCH, an unsteddy, changeable, easily provokable, and revengeful
Man;  , ,   , ,
&c.'' Plutarch. de Superstitione. See VOL. III. p. 127.
26 A LETTER
Sect. 5. Methinks, my Lord, it wou'd be well for us, if before *we ascended
into the higher Regions of Divinity, we wou'd vouchsafe
to descend a little into our-selves, and bestow some poor Thoughts
upon plain honest Morals. When we had once look'd into ourselves,
and distinguish'd well the nature of our own Affections, we
shou'd probably be fitter Judges of the Divineness of a Character,
and discern better what Affections were sutable or unsutable to a
perfect Being. We might then understand how to love and praise,
when we had acquir'd some consistent Notion of what was laudable
or lovely. Otherwise we might chance to do GOD little Honour,
when we intended him the most. For 'tis hard to imagine
what Honour can arise to the DEITYAfrom the Praises of Creatures,[42]
who are unable to discern what is praise-worthy or excellent in their
own kind.
If a Musician were cry'd up to the Skies bya certain Set of People
who had no Ear in Musick, hewou'd surely be put to the blush; and
cou'd hardly, with a good Countenance, accept the Benevolence
of his Auditors, till they had acquir'd a more competent Apprehension
of him, and cou'd by their own Senses find out something
really good in his Performance.Till this were brought about, there
wou'd be little Glory in the case; and the Musician, tho ever sovain,
wou'd have little reason to be contented.
They who affect Praise the most, had rather not be taken notice
of, than be impertinently applauded. I know not how it comes
about, that HE who is ever said to do Good the most disinterestedly,
shou'd be thought desirous of being prais'd so lavishly, and
be suppos'd to set so high a Rate upon so cheap and low a Thing,
as ignorant Commendation and forc'd Applause.
'Tis not the same with Goodness as with other Qualitys, which
we may understand very well, and yet not possess. We may have
an excellent Ear in Musick,Awithout being able to perform in any[43]
kind.We may judg well of Poetry, without being Poets, or possessing
the least of a PoetickVein: But we can have no tolerable Notion
* Vol. III. p. 37. and 202, 203. in the Notes.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 27
Sect. 6.of Goodness, without being tolerably good. So that if the Praise of
a Divine Being be so great a part of his Worship, we shou'd, methinks,
learn Goodness, were it for nothing else than that we might
learn, in some tolerable manner, how to praise. For the praise of
Goodness from an unsound hollow Heart, must certainly make
the greatest Dissonance in the world.
S E C T I O N V I
OTHER Reasons, my Lord, there are, why this plain homespun
Philosophy,of looking into our-selves, maydo us wondrous
service, in rectifying our Errors in Religion. For there is a
sort of Enthusiasm of second hand. And when Men find no original
Commotions in themselves, no prepossessing Panick which
bewitches 'em; they are apt still, by the Testimony of others, to
be impos'd on, and led credulously into the Belief of many false
Miracles. And this Habit may make 'em variable, and of a very
inconstant Faith, easy to be carry'd away with every Wind of Doctrine,
and addicted to every upstart Sect or Superstition. But the
knowledg of our Passions in their veryASeeds, the measuring well [44]
the Growth and Progress of Enthusiasm, and the judging rightlyof
its natural Force, and what command it has over our very *Senses,
may teach us to oppose more successfully those Delusions which
come arm'd with the specious Pretext of moral Certainty, and Matter
of Fact.
The new prophesying Sect, I made mention of above, pretend, it
seems, among many other Miracles, to have had a most signal one,
acted premeditately, and with warning, before many hundreds of
People, who actually give Testimony to the Truth of it. But I wou'd
only ask,Whether there were present, among those hundreds, any
one Person, who having never been of their Sect, or addicted to
their Way, will give the same Testimony with them? I must not
* VOL. III. p. 39, 40. & 66, 67, 68.
28 A LETTER
Sect. 6. be contented to ask,Whether such a one had been wholly free of
that particular Enthusiasm? but,Whether, before that time, hewas
esteem'd of so sound a Judgment, and clear a Head, as to be wholly
free of Melancholy, and in all likelihood incapable of all Enthusiasm
besides? For otherwise, the Panick may have been caught; the
Evidence of the Senses lost, as in a Dream; and the Imagination so
inflam'd, as in a moment toA have burnt up every Particle of Judg-[45]
ment and Reason. The combustible Matters lie prepar'd within,
and ready to take fire at a Spark; but chiefly in a*Multitude seiz'd
with the same Spirit. No wonder if the Blaze rises so of a sudden;
when innumerable Eyes glow with the Passion, and heaving
Breasts are labouring with Inspiration: when not the Aspect only,
but the very Breath and Exhalations of Men are infectious, and the
inspiring Disease imparts it-self by insensible Transpiration. I am
not a Divine good enough to resolve what Spirit that was which
prov'd so catching among the antient Prophets, that even the profane
SAUL was taken by it. But I learn from Holy Scripture, that
there was the evil, as well as the good Spirit of Prophecy. And I find
by present Experience, as well as by all Historys, Sacred and Profane,
that the Operation of this Spirit is every where the same, as
to the bodily Organs.
A Gentleman who has writ lately in defence of reviv'd Prophecy,
and has since fallen himself into the prophetick Extasys, tells us,
``That the antient Prophets had the Spirit ofGOD upon them under
Extasy, with divers strange GesturesA of Body denominating them[46]
Madmen, (or Enthusiasts) as appears evidently, says he, in the Instances
of BALAAM, SAUL, DAVID, EZEKIEL, DANIEL, &c.'' And
he proceeds to justify this by the Practice of the Apostolick Times,
and by the Regulation which the Apostle himself applies to these
seemingly irregular Gifts, so frequent and ordinary (as our Author
* VOL. III. p. 66. in the Notes.
 See 1 Kings ch. xxii. ver. 20, &c. 2 Chron. ch. xviii. ver. 19, &c. And VOL. III.
p. 116, 117.
 1 Cor. ch. xiv.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 29
Sect. 6.pretends) in the primitive Church, on the first rise and spreading
of Christianity. But I leave it to him to make the Resemblance as
well as he can between his own and the Apostolick way. I only
know, that the Symptoms he describes, and which himself (poor
Gentleman!) labours under, are as Heathenish as he can possibly
pretend them to be Christian. And when I saw him lately under
an Agitation (as they call it) uttering Prophecy in a pompous Latin
Style, of which, out of his Extasy, it seems, he is wholly incapable;
it brought into my mind the Latin Poeťs Description of the SIBYL,
whose Agonys were so perfectly like these.
*Immediately her face changes, her colour flies, her hair falls
in disorder, her breast heaves and her heart swells with mad
passion; greater her stature seems,A and her voice not mortal, [47]
for she is breathed upon by the god now imminent.
And again presently after:
The prophetess rages monstrously in the cave, seeking to cast
from her breast the mighty God; so much the more he compels
the rabid mouth, ruling the wild heart, and moulds her
by his force.2
Which is the very Style of our experienc'd Author. ``For the Inspir'd
(says he) undergo a Probation,wherein the Spirit, by frequent
Agitations, forms the Organs, ordinarily for a Month or two before
Utterance.''
* Subit non vultus, non color unus,
Non comptae mansere comae; sed pectus anhelum,
Et rabie fera corda tument; majorque videri
Nec morale sonans: afflata est Numine quando
Jam propiore Dei
Virg. Aen. lib. 6. 47­51.
2 Immanis in antro
Bacchatur Vates, magnum si pectore possit
Excussisse Deum: tanto magis Ille fatigat
Os rabidum, fera corda domans, FINGITQUE PREMENDO.
Ib. 77­80.
30 A LETTER
Sect. 6. The Roman Historian, speaking of a most horrible Enthusiasm
which broke out in ROME long before his days, describes this Spirit
of Prophecy; Men vaticinate as if out of their minds, with fanatical
convulsions of the body.3 The detestable things which are further
related of these Enthusiasts, I wou'd not willingly transcribe: but
the Senate's mild Decree in so execrable a Case, I can't omit copying;
being satisfy'd, that tho your Lordship has read it before now,
you can read it again and again with admiration:
As to the future, the Senate enacted that if any one should
believe that such a cult wasAreligiously necessary to him, and[48]
that he could not without irreligion and impiety forego it,
he should inform the praetor of the city, who should consult
the Senate. If, with not less than a hundred present, the Senate
should give permission, the rites might be performed; but
there should not be more than five assisting at the sacrifice,
nor should there be any common fund, nor any master of the
rites, nor any priest.4
So necessary it is to give way to this Distemper of Enthusiasm,
that even that Philosopher who bent the whole Force of his Philosophy
against Superstition, appears to have left room for visionary
Fancy, and to have indirectly tolerated Enthusiasm. For it is
hard to imagine, that one who had so little religious Faith as EPICURUS,
shou'd have so vulgar a Credulity, as to believe those accounts
of Armys and Castles in the Air, and such visionary Phaenomena.
Yet he allows them; and then thinks to solve 'em by his
Effluvia, and Aerial Looking-glasses, and I know not what other
3 Viros velut mente captâ, cum jactatione fanaticâ corporis vaticinari.--Livy,
xxxix. 13.
4 In reliquum deinde (says Livy) S. C. cautum est, &c. Si quis tale sacrum solenne
& necessarium duceret, nec sine Religione & Piaculo se id omittere posse; apud Praetorem
Urbanum profiteretur: Praetor Senatum consuleret. Si ei permissum esset, cm in Senatu
centum non minus essent, ita id sacrum faceret; dum ne plus quinque sacrificio interessent,
neu qua pecunia communis, neu quis Magister sacrorum, aut Sacerdos esset.--
Livy, xxxix. 18.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 31
Sect. 6.stuff: which his Latin Poet, however, sets off beautifully, as he
does all.
Many simulacra of things, thin, manifold in number and
form, wander about in all manner of ways, which when in the
air they meet, easily conjoin,A like cobwebs or gold-leaf. . . . [49]
Thus we see Centaurs and limbs of Scylla, and shapes of
dogs like Cerberus, and the phantasms of those passed away
whose bones the earth enfolds; since everywhere float simulacra
of every kind, partly those spontaneously shaped by the
air within itself, partly those thrown off by various things.5
'Twas a sign this Philosopher believ'd there was a good Stock of
Visionary Spirit originally in Human Nature. He was so satisfy'd
that Men were inclin'd to see Visions, that rather than they shou'd
go without, he chose to make 'em to their hand. Notwithstanding
he deny'd the Principles of Religion to be *natural, he was
forc'd tacitly to allow there was a wondrous Disposition in Mankind
towards Supernatural Objects; and that if these Ideas were
vain, they were yet in a manner innate, or such as Men were really
born to, and cou'd hardly by any means avoid. From which Concession,
a Divine, methinks, might raise a good Argument against
him, for the Truth as well as the Usefulness of RELIGION. But so it
is:Awhether the Matterof Apparition be true or false, the Symptoms [50]
5 Rerum Simulacra vagari
Multa, modis multis, in cunctas undique parteis
Tenuia, quae facil inter se junguntur in auris,
Obvia cm veniunt, ut aranea bracteaque auri
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Centauros itaque, & Scyllarum Membra videmus,
Cerbereasque canum facies, simulacraque eorum
Quorum morte obita tellus amplectitur ossa:
Omne genus quoniam passim simulacra feruntur,
Partim sponte suâ quae fiunt aere in ipso;
Partim quae variis ab rebus cumq; recedunt.
Lucretius, iv. 724­737.
* Infra, pag. 117.
32 A LETTER
Sect. 6. are the same, and the Passion of equal force in the Person who is
Vision-struck. The Lymphatici of the Latins were the Nympholepti
of the Greeks. They were Persons said to have seen some Species of
Divinity, as either some rural Deity, or Nymph; which threw them
into such Transports as overcame their Reason. The Extasys express'd
themselves outwardly in Quakings,Tremblings,Tossings of
the Head and Limbs, Agitations, and (as Livy calls them) Fanatical
Throws or Convulsions, extemporary Prayer, Prophecy, Singing,
and the like. All Nations have their Lymphaticks of some kind or
another; and all Churches, Heathen as well as Christian, have had
their Complaints against Fanaticism.
One wou'd think the Antients imagin'd this Disease had some
relation to that which they calľd Hydrophoby. Whether the antient
Lymphaticks had any way like that of biting, to communicate
the Rage of their Distemper, I can't so positively determine. But
certain Fanaticks there have been since the time of the Antients,
who have had a most prosperous Faculty of communicating the
Appetite of the Teeth. For since first the snappish Spirit got up
in Religion, all Sects have been at it, as the saying is, Tooth and
Nail;Aand are never better pleas'd, than in worrying one another[51]
without mercy.
So far indeed the innocent kind of Fanaticism extends it-self,
that when the Party is struck by the Apparition, there follows always
an Itch of imparting it, and kindling the same Fire in other
Breasts. For thus Poets are Fanaticks too. And thus HORACE either
is, or feigns himself Lymphatick, and shews what an Effect the
Vision of the Nymphs and BACCHUS had on him.
*Bacchus have I seen in far-off stony places teaching his songs
(aftercomers, believe me!) and the nymphs conning them. . . .
* Bacchum in remotis carmina rupibus
Vidi docentem, credite posteri,
NYMPHASque discentes
Evae! recenti mens trepidat metu,
Plenoque Bacchi pectore turbidum
Od. 19. lib. 2.
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 33
Sect. 6.Evae! my heart trembles with the still-felt fear, and wildly
maddens (lymphatur) in a breast filled with Bacchus. [The
accepted reading is laetatur, ``exults.'']
*LYMPHATUR as Heinsius reads.
No Poet (as I ventur'd to say at first to your Lordship) can do any
thing great in his own way, without the Imagination or Supposition
of a Divine Presence, which may raise him to some degree of
this Passion we are speaking of. Even the coldALUCRETIUS makes [52]
use of Inspiration, when he writes against it; and is forc'd to raise
an Apparition of Nature, in a Divine Form, to animate and conduct
him in his very Work of degrading Nature, and despoiling
her of all her seeming Wisdom and Divinity.
Nutrient Venus, who under the gliding signs of heaven fillest
with life the ship-bearing sea and the fruitful lands. . . . Since
thou alone rulest the nature of things, nor without thee ariseth
aught to the holy frontiers of light, nor groweth anything
joyous or meet for love, thee would I have for helper
in framing the song I seek to build for this our son of the
Memmian line.
* So again, Sat. 5. ver. 97. Gnatia Lymphis Iratis exstructa: where HORACE wittily
treats the People of Gnatia as Lymphaticks and Enthusiasts, for believing a Miracle
of their Priests: Credat Judaeus Apella. Hor. ibid. See HEINSIUS and TORRENTIUS;
and the Quotation in the following Notes,   , &c.
 VOL. III. p. 32.
 Alma VENUS, coeli subter labentia signa
Quae mare navigerum, quae terras frugiferenteis
Concelebras
Quae quoniam rerum naturam sola gubernas,
Nec sine te quidquam dias in luminis oras
Exoritur, neque fit laetum neque amabile quidquam:
Te sociam studeo scribundis versibus esse,
Quos Ego de rerum naturâ pangere conor
MEMMIADAE nostro.
Lucret. lib. 1.
34 A LETTER
Sect. 7. S E C T I O N V I I
THE only thing, my Lord, I wou'd infer from all this, is, that
ENTHUSIASM is wonderfully powerful and extensive; that it
is a matter of nice Judgment, and the hardest thing in the world
to know fully and distinctly; since even *Atheism is not exempt
from it. For, as some have well remark'd, there have been Enthusiastical
Atheists. Nor can Divine InAspiration, by its outward Marks,[53]
be easily distinguish'd from it. For Inspiration is a real feeling of
the Divine Presence, and Enthusiasm a false one. But the Passion
they raise is much alike. For when the Mind is taken up in Vision,
and fixes its view either on any real Object, or mere Specter of Divinity;
when it sees, or thinks it sees any thing prodigious, and
more than human; its Horror, Delight, Confusion, Fear, Admiration,
or whatever Passion belongs to it, or is uppermost on this
occasion, will have something vast, immane, and (as Painters say)
beyond Life. And this is what gave occasion to the name of Fanaticism,
as it was us'd by the Antients in its original Sense, for an
Apparition transporting the Mind.
Something there will be of Extravagance and Fury, when the
Ideas or Images receiv'd are too big for the narrow human Vessel
to contain. So that Inspiration may be justly calľd Divine ENTHUSIASM:
For theWord it-self signifies Divine Presence, and was made
use of by the Philosopher whom the earliest Christian Fathers
calľd Divine, to express whatever was sublime in human Passions.
* VOL. III. p. 63, 64.
           . . . 
            , &c.
Phaedr.            
. Meno.          , 
  ,     ,    
. Apol. In particular as to Philosophers, PLUTARCH tells us, 'twas the
Complaint of some of the four old Romans, when Learning first came to them from
Greece, that their Youth grew Enthusiastick with Philosophy. For speaking of one
of the Philosophers of the Athenian Embassy, he says,   
           
CONCERNING ENTHUSIASM 35
Sect. 7.ThisA was the Spirit he allotted to Heroes, Statesmen, Poets, Orators,
Musicians, and even Philosophers themselves. Nor can we, of [54]
ourown accord, forbearascribing to a *noble ENTHUSIASM, whatever
is greatly perform'd by any of These. So that almost all of us
know something of this Principle. But to know it as we shou'd do,
and discern it in its several kinds, both in our-selves, and others;
this is the great Work, and by this means alone we can hope to
avoid Delusion. For to judg the Spirits whether they are of God, we
must antecedently judg our own Spirit; whether it be of Reason and
sound Sense; whether it be fit to judg at all, by being sedate, cool,
and impartial; free of every biassing Passion, every giddy Vapor, or
melancholy Fume. This is the first Knowledg and previous Judgment:
``To understand our-selves, and know what Spirit we are of.''
Afterwards we may judg the Spirit in others, consider what their
personal Merit is, andAprove the Validity of their Testimony by the [55]
Solidity of their Brain. By this means we may prepare our-selves
with some Antidote against Enthusiasm. And this is what I have
dar'd affirm is best perform'd by keeping to GOOD HUMOUR. For
otherwise the Remedy it-self may turn to the Disease.
And now, my Lord, having, after all, in some measure justify'd
ENTHUSIASM, and own'd the Word; if I appear extravagant, in addressing
to you after the manner I have done, you must allow me
to plead an Impulse. You must suppose me (as with truth you may)
most passionately your's; and with that Kindness which is natu.
Plut. Cato Major. Plato, Phaedrus, 241 E, seems here misquoted.The accepted
text means: I suppose you know that I shall be quite possessed ()
by the nymphs, to whom you have designedly exposed me [ . . . So much so because
of you, and even more from the gods, I have in me a passion to speak about
beautiful deeds.] Plato, Menon, 99 D: And, among them, we should say that the
politicians were specially rapt and inspired (). Plato, Apol. 22 B (slightly
misquoted). The right version would give: So I observed also about poets in a short
time that they did not compose out of wisdom, but from an instinct and an inspiration
() like seers and prophets. Plutarch, Cato Major, 22: He put a
spell upon young men, under which they give up other pleasures and amusements,
and are possessed by philosophy ().
* Of this Passion, in the nobler and higher sense, see more, VOL. II. p. 75, 76,
393, 394, &c. and VOL. III. p. 30, 33, 34, 37.
36 A LETTER
Sect. 7. ral to you on other occasions, you must tolerate your Enthusiastick
Friend, who, excepting only in the case of this over-forward Zeal,
must ever appear with the highest Respect,
MY LORD,
Your Lordship's, &c.
TREATISE II
V I Z.
ensus ommunis:
AN ESSAY
ON THE FREEDOM
OF
WIT and HUMOUR.
In a LETTER to a Friend.
* n the one side a wolf attacks, on the other a dog.
Hor. Sat. 2. Lib. 2.
Printed first in the Year M.DCC.IX.
*Hâc urget Lupus, hâc Canis.
AN ESSAY, c.
PART I
S E C T I O N I
I
HAVE been considering (my Friend!) what your Fancy was,
to express such a surprize as you did the other day, when I
happen'd to speak to you in commendation of Raillery. Was
it possible you shou'd suppose me so grave a Man, as to dislike all
Conversation ofAthis kind? Or were you afraid I shou'd not stand [60]
the trial, if you put me to it, by making the experiment in my
own Case?
I must confess, you had reason enough for your Caution; if you
cou'd imagine me at the bottom so true a Zealot, as not to bear the
least Raillery on my own Opinions. 'Tis the Case, I know, with
many. Whatever they think grave or solemn, they suppose must
39
40 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 1. never be treated out of a grave and solemn way: Tho what Another
thinks so, they can be contented to treat otherwise; and are forward
to try the Edge of Ridicule against any Opinions besides
their own.
The Question is,Whether this be fair or no? and,Whether it be
not just and reasonable, to make as free with our own Opinions,
as with those of other People? For to be sparing in this case, may
be look'd upon as a piece of Selfishness. We may be charg'd perhaps
with wilful Ignorance and blind Idolatry, for having taken
Opinions upon Trust, and consecrated in our-selves certain IdolNotions,
which we will never suffer to be unveiľd, or seen in open
light.They may perhaps be Monsters, and not Divinitys, or Sacred
Truths, which are kept thus choicely, in some dark Corner of our
Minds: The Specters may impose on us, whilst we reAfuse to turn[61]
'em every way, and view their Shapes and Complexions in every
light. For that which can be shewn only in a certain Light, is questionable.Truth,
'tis suppos'd, may bear all Lights: and one of those
principal Lights or natural Mediums, by which Things are to be
view'd, in order to a thorow Recognition, is Ridicule it-self, or that
Manner of Proof by which we discern whatever is liable to just
Raillery in any Subject. So much, at least, is allow'd by All, who
at any time appeal to this Criterion. The gravest Gentlemen, even
in the gravest Subjects, are suppos'd to acknowledg this: and can
have no Right, 'tis thought, to deny others the Freedom of this
Appeal; whilst they are free to censure like other Men, and in their
gravest Arguments make no scruple to ask, Is it not Ridiculous?
Of this Affair, therefore, I design you shou'd know fully what
my Sentiments are. And by this means you will be able to judg of
me; whether I was sincere the other day in the Defence of Raillery,
and can continue still to plead for those ingenious Friends of
ours, who are often censur'd for their Humour of this kind, and
for the Freedom they take in such an airy way of Conversation and
Writing.A[62]
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 41
Sect. 2.S E C T I O N I I
IN GOOD earnest, when one considers what use is sometimes
made of this Species of Wit, and to what an excess it has risen
of late, in some Characters of the Age; one may be startled a little,
and in doubt, what to think of the Practice, or whither this rallying
Humour will at length carry us. It has pass'd from the Men
of Pleasure to the Men of Business. Politicians have been infected
with it: and the grave Affairs of State have been treated with an
Air of Irony and Banter. The ablest Negotiators have been known
the notablest Buffoons: the most celebrated Authors, the greatest
Masters of Burlesque.
There is indeed a kind of defensive Raillery (if I may so call it)
which I am willing enough to allow in Affairs of whatever kind;
when the Spirit of Curiosity wou'd force a Discoveryof moreTruth
than can conveniently be told. For we can never do more Injury to
Truth, than by discovering too much of it, on some occasions. 'Tis
the same with Understandings as with Eyes: To such a certain Size
and Make just so much Light is necessary, and no more.Whatever
is beyond, brings Darkness and Confusion.A [63]
'Tis real Humanity and Kindness, to hide strong Truths from
tender Eyes. And to do this by a pleasant Amusement, is easier
and civiller, than by a harsh Denial, or remarkable Reserve. But to
go about industriously to confound Men, in a mysterious manner,
and to make advantage or draw pleasure from that Perplexity they
are thrown into, by such uncertain Talk; is as unhandsom in a way
of Raillery, as when done with the greatest Seriousness, or in the
most solemn way of Deceit. It may be necessary, as well now as
heretofore, for wise Men to speak in Parables, and with a double
Meaning, that the Enemy may be amus'd, and they only who have
Ears to hear, may hear. But 'tis certainly a mean, impotent, and
dull sort of Wit, which amuses all alike, and leaves the most sensible
Man, and even a Friend, equally in doubt, and at a loss to
understand what one's real Mind is, upon any Subject.
This is that gross sort of Raillery, which is so offensive in good
42 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 3. Company. And indeed there is as much difference between one
sort and another, as between Fair-dealing and Hypocrisy; or between
the genteelest Wit, and the most scurrilous Buffoonery. But
by Freedom of Conversation this illiberal kind of Wit will loseAits[64]
Credit. For Wit is its own Remedy. Liberty and Commerce bring
it to its true Standard. The only danger is, the laying an Embargo.
The same thing happens here, as in the Case of Trade. Impositions
and Restrictions reduce it to a low Ebb: Nothing is so advantageous
to it as a Free-Port.
We have seen in our own time the Decline and Ruin of a false
sort of Wit, which so much delighted our Ancestors, that their
Poems and Plays, as well as Sermons, were full of it. All Humour
had something of the Quibble. Thevery Language of the Court was
Punning. But 'tis now banish'd the Town, and all good Company:
There are only some few Footsteps of it in the Country; and it
seems at last confin'd to the Nurserys of Youth, as the chief Entertainment
of Pedants and their Pupils. And thus in other respects
Wit will mend upon our hands, and Humour will refine it-self; if we
take care not to tamper with it, and bring it under Constraint, by
severe Usage and rigorous Prescriptions. All Politeness is owing to
Liberty.We polish one another, and rub off our Corners and rough
Sides by a sort of amicable Collision. To restrain this, is inevitably
to bring a Rust upon Mens Understandings. 'Tis a destroying of
Civility, Good Breeding, andAeven Charity it-self, under pretence[65]
of maintaining it.
S E C T I O N I I I
TO describe true Raillery wou'd be as hard a matter, and perhaps
as little to the purpose, as to define Good Breeding. None
can understand the Speculation, besides those who have the Practice.Yet
every-one thinks himself well-bred: and the formallest Pedant
imagines he can railly with a good Grace and Humour. I have
known some of those grave Gentlemen undertake to correct an
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 43
Sect. 3.Author for defending the Use of Raillery, who at the same time
have upon every turn made use of that Weapon, tho they were
naturally so very aukard at it. And this I believe may be observ'd
in the Case of many Zealots, who have taken upon 'em to answer
our modern Free-Writers. The Tragical Gentlemen, with the grim
Aspect and Mein of true Inquisitors, have but an ill Grace when
they vouchsafe to quit their Austerity, and be jocose and pleasant
with an Adversary, whom they wou'd chuse to treat in a very different
manner. For to do 'em Justice, had they their Wills, I doubt
not but their Conduct and Mein wou'd be pretty much of a-piece.
They wou'd, in all probability, soon quit their Farce, and make
a thorow Tragedy. ButA at present there is nothing so ridiculous [66]
as this JANUS-Face of Writers, who with one Countenance force
a Smile, and with another show nothing beside Rage and Fury.
Having enter'd the Lists, and agreed to the fair Laws of Combat
by Wit and Argument, they have no sooner prov'd their Weapon,
than you hear 'em crying aloud for help, and delivering over to the
Secular Arm.
There can't be a more preposterous Sight than an Executioner
and a Merry-ANDREW acting their Part upon the same Stage. Yet
I am persuaded any-one will find this to be the real Picture of certain
modern Zealots in their Controversial Writings. they are no
more Masters of Gravity, than they are of Good Humour.The first
always runs into harsh Severity, and the latter into an aukard Buffoonery.
And thus between Angerand Pleasure, Zeal and Drollery,
their Writing has much such a Grace as the Play of humoursom
Children, who, at the same instant, are both peevish and wanton,
and can laugh and cry almost in one and the same breath.
How agreeable such Writings are like to prove, and of what
effect towards the winning over or convincing those who are suppos'd
to be in Error, I need not go about to explain. Nor can I
wonder, onA this account, to hear those publick Lamentations of [67]
Zealots, that whilst the Books of their Adversarys are so current,
their Answers to 'em can hardly make their way into the World, or
be taken the least notice of. Pedantry and Bigotry are Mill-stones
44 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 4. able to sink the best Book, which carries the least part of their
dead weight.The Temper of the Pedagogue sutes not with the Age.
And the World, however it may be taught, will not be tutor'd. If a
Philosopher speaks, Men hear him willingly, while he keeps to his
Philosophy. So is a Christian heard, while he keeps to his profess'd
Charity and Meekness. In a Gentleman we allow of Pleasantry and
Raillery, as being manag'd always with good Breeding, and never
gross or clownish. But if a mere Scholastick, intrenching upon all
these Characters, and writing as it were by Starts and Rebounds
from one of these to another, appears upon the whole as little able
to keep the Temper of Christianity, as to use the Reason of a Philosopher,
or the Raillery of a Man of Breeding; what wonder is it,
if the monstrous Product of such a jumbled Brain be ridiculous to
the World?
If you think (my Friend!) that by this Description I have done
wrong to these Zealot-Writers in religious ControAversy; read onlya[68]
few Pages in anyone of 'em, (even where the Contest is not Abroad,
but within their own Pale) and then pronounce.
S E C T I O N I V
BUT now that I have said thus much concerning Authors and
Writings, you shall hear my Thoughts, as you have desir'd,
upon the Subject of Conversation, and particularly a late One of a
free kind,which you remember I was present at,with some Friends
of yours, whom you fansy'd I shou'd in great Gravity have con-
demn'd.
'Twas, I must own, a very diverting one, and perhaps not the
less so, for ending as abruptly as it did, and in such a sort of Confusion,
as almost brought to nothing whatever had been advanc'd in
the Discourse before. Some Particulars of this Conversation may
not perhaps be so proper to commit to Paper. 'Tis enough that I
put you in mind of the Conversation in general. A great many fine
Schemes, 'tis true, were destroy'd; many grave Reasonings over-
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 45
Sect. 4.turn'd: but this being donewithout offence to the Partys concern'd,
and with improvement to the good Humour of the Company, it
set the Appetite the keener to such Conversations.A And I am per- [69]
suaded, that had Reason herself been to judg of her own Interest,
she wou'd have thought she receiv'd more advantage in the main
from that easy and familiar way, than from the usual stiff Adherence
to a particular Opinion.
But perhaps you may still be in the same humour of not believing
me in earnest. You may continue to tell me, I affect to be
paradoxical, in commending a Conversation as advantageous to
Reason, which ended in such a total Uncertainty of what Reason
had seemingly so well establish'd.
To this I answer,That according to the Notion I have of Reason,
neither the written Treatises of the Learned, nor the set Discourses
of the Eloquent, are able of themselves to teach the use of it. 'Tis
the Habit alone of Reasoning, which can make a Reasoner. And
Men can never be better invited to the Habit, than when they find
Pleasure in it. A Freedom of Raillery, a Liberty in decent Language
to question every thing, and an Allowance of unravelling or refuting
any Argument, without offence to the Arguer, are the only
Terms which can render such speculative Conversations any way
agreeable. For to say truth, they have been render'd burdensom to
Mankind by the StrictnessA of the Laws prescrib'd to 'em, and by [70]
the prevailing Pedantry and Bigotry of those who reign in 'em, and
assume to themselves to be Dictators in these Provinces.
*Must I always be listener only? is as natural a Case of Complaint
in Divinity, in Morals, and in Philosophy, as it was of old,
the Satirisťs, in Poetry. Vicissitude is a mighty Law of Discourse,
and mightily long'd for by Mankind. In matter of Reason, more is
done in a minute or two, by way of Question and Reply, than by a
continu'd Discourse of whole Hours. Orations are fit only to move
the Passions: And the Power of Declamation is to terrify, exalt, rav*
SEMPER ego Auditor tantum!
Juv. Sat. 1.
46 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 4. ish, or delight, rather than satisfy or instruct. A free Conference
is a close Fight. The other way, in comparison to it, is merely a
Brandishing, or Beating the Air. To be obstructed therefore and
manacled in Conferences, and to be confin'd to hear Orations on
certain Subjects, must needs give us a Distaste, and render the Subjects
so manag'd, as disagreeable as the Managers. Men had rather
reason upon Trifles, so they may reason freely, and without the
Imposition of Authority, than on the usefullest and best Subjects
in the world, where they are held under a Restraint and Fear.A[71]
Nor is it a wonder that Men are generally such faint Reasoners,
and care so little to argue strictly on any trivial Subject in Company;
when they dare so little exert their Reason in greater matters,
and are forc'd to argue lamely, where they have need of the greatest
Activity and Strength. The same thing therefore happens here as
in strong and healthy Bodys, which are debar'd their natural Exercise,
and confin'd in a narrow Space. They are forc'd to use odd
Gestures and Contortions. They have a sort of Action, and move
still, tho with the worst Grace imaginable. For the animal Spirits
in such sound and active Limbs cannot lie dead, or without Employment.
And thus the natural free Spirits of ingenious Men, if
imprison'd and controuľd, will find out other ways of Motion to
relieve themselves in their Constraint: and whether it be in Burlesque,
Mimickry or Buffoonery, they will be glad at any rate to
vent themselves, and be reveng'd on their Constrainers.
If Men are forbid to speak their minds seriously on certain Subjects,
they will do it ironically. If theyare forbid to speak at all upon
such Subjects, or if they find it really dangerous to do so; they will
then redouble their Disguise, involve themAselves in Mysterious-[72]
ness, and talk so as hardly to be understood, or at least not plainly
interpreted, by those who are dispos'd to do 'em a mischief. And
thus Raillery is brought more in fashion, and runs into an Extreme.
'Tis the persecuting Spirit has rais'd the bantering one: And want
of Liberty may account for want of a true Politeness, and for the
Corruption or wrong Use of Pleasantry and Humour.
If in this respect we strain the just measure of what we call
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 47
Sect. 5.Urbanity, and are apt sometimes to take a Buffooning Rustick Air,
we may thank the ridiculous Solemnity and sour Humour of our
Pedagogues: or rather, they may thank themselves, if they in particular
meet with the heaviest of this kind of Treatment. For it will
naturally fall heaviest, where the Constraint has been the severest.
The greater the Weight is, the bitterer will be the Satir. The higher
the Slavery, the more exquisite the Buffoonery.
That this is really so, may appear by looking on those Countrys
where the spiritual Tyranny is highest. For the greatest of Buffoons
are the ITALIANS: and in their Writings, in their freer sort of Conversations,
on their Theatres, and in their Streets, Buffoonery and
BurlesqueAare in the highest vogue. 'Tis the only manner in which [73]
the poor cramp'd Wretches can discharge a free Thought.We must
yield to 'em the Superiority in this sort of Wit. For what wonder
is it if we, who have more of Liberty, have less Dexterity in that
egregious way of Raillery and Ridicule?
S E C T I O N V
'
TIS for this reason, I verily believe, that the Antients discover
so little of this Spirit, and that there is hardly such a thing
found as mere Burlesque in any Authors of the politer Ages. The
manner indeed in which they treated the very gravest Subjects,
was somewhat different from that of our days.Their Treatises were
generally in a free and familiar Style.Theychose to give us the Representation
of real Discourse and Converse, by treating their Subjects
in the way of *Dialogue and free Debate. The Scene was commonly
laid at Table, or in the publick Walks or Meeting-places;
and the usual Wit and Humourof their real Discourses appear'd in
those of their own composing. And this was fair. For without Wit
and Humour, Reason can hardly have its proof, or be distinguish'd.
The Magisterial VoiceA and high Strain of the Pedagogue, com- [74]
* See the following Treatise, viz. Soliloquy, Part I. Sect. 3.
48 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 5. mands Reverence and Awe. 'Tis of admirable use to keep Understandings
at a distance, and out of reach. The other Manner, on
the contrary, gives the fairest hold, and suffers an Antagonist to
use his full Strength hand to hand, upon even ground.
'Tis not to be imagin'd what advantage the Reader has, when
he can thus cope with his Author, who is willing to come on a
fair Stage with him, and exchange the Tragick Buskin for an easier
and more natural Gate and Habit. Grimace and Tone are mighty
Helps to Imposture. And many a formal Piece of Sophistry holds
proof under a severe Brow, which wou'd not pass under an easy
one. 'Twas the Saying of *an antient Sage, ``That Humour was the
only Test of Gravity; and Gravity, of Humour. For a Subject which
wou'd not bear Raillery, was suspicious; and a Jest which wou'd
not bear a serious Examination, was certainly false Wit.''
But some Gentlemen there are so full of the Spirit of Bigotry,
and false Zeal, that when they hear Principles examin'd, Sciences
and Arts inquir'd into, and MatAters of Importance treated with[75]
this frankness of Humour, they imagine presently that all Professions
must fall to the ground, all Establishments come to ruin, and
nothing orderly or decent be left standing in the world. They fear,
or pretend to fear, that Religion it-self will be endanger'd by this
free way; and are therefore as much alarm'd at this Liberty in private
Conversation, and under prudent Management, as if it were
grossly us'd in publick Company, or before the solemnest Assembly.
But the Case, as I apprehend it, is far different. For you are to
remember (my Friend!) that I am writing to you in defence only of
the Liberty of the Club, and of that sort of Freedom which is taken
amongst Gentlemen and Friends, who know one another perfectly
well. And that 'tis natural for me to defend Liberty with this restriction,
you may infer from the very Notion I have of Liberty
it-self.
* GORGIAS LEONTINUS, apud Arist. Rhetor. lib. 3. cap. 18.   
     ; which theTranslator renders, Seria Risu,
Risum Seriis discutere. [To dispel serious matters with laughter, laughter with serious
matters.]
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 49
Sect. 6.'Tis surely aViolation of the Freedom of publick Assemblys, for
any one to take the Chair, who is neither calľd nor invited to it.To
start Questions, or manage Debates, which offend the publick Ear,
is to be wanting in that Respect which is due to common Society.
Such Subjects shou'd either not be treated at all in publick, or in
such a manneras to occasion no Scandal or Disturbance.The Publick
is not, on anyAaccount, to be laugh'd at, to its face; or so rep- [76]
rehended for its Follys, as to make it think it-self contemn'd. And
what is contrary to good Breeding, is in this respect as contrary to
Liberty. It belongs to Men of slavish Principles, to affect a Superiority
over the Vulgar, and to despise the Multitude. The Lovers of
Mankind respect and honour Conventions and Societys of Men.
And in mix'd Company, and Places where Men are met promiscuously
on account of Diversion or Affairs, 'tis an Imposition and
Hardship to force 'em to hear what they dislike, and to treat of
Matters in a Dialect, which many who are present have perhaps
been never us'd to. 'Tis a breach of the Harmony of publick Conversation,
to take things in such a Key, as is above the common
Reach, puts others to silence, and robs them of their Privilege of
Turn. But as to private Society, and what passes in select Companys,
where Friends meet knowingly, and with that very design
of exercising their Wit, and looking freely into all Subjects; I see
no pretence for any one to be offended at the way of Raillery and
Humour, which is the very Life of such Conversations; the only
thing which makes good Company, and frees it from the Formality
of Business, and the Tutorage and Dogmaticalness of the Schools.A [77]
S E C T I O N V I
TO return therefore to our Argument. If the best of our modern
Conversations are apt to run chiefly upon Trifles; if rational
Discourses (especially those of a deeper Speculation) have lost
their credit, and are in disgrace because of their Formality; there
is reason for more allowance in the way of Humour and Gaiety.
An easier Method of treating these Subjects, will make 'em more
50 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 6. agreeable and familiar. To dispute about 'em, will be the same as
about other Matters. They need not spoil good Company, or take
from the Ease or Pleasure of a polite Conversation. And the oftner
these Conversations are renew'd, the better will be their Effect.
We shall grow better Reasoners, by reasoning pleasantly, and at our
ease; taking up, or laying down these Subjects, as we fansy. So that,
upon the whole, I must own to you, I cannot be scandaliz'd at
the Raillery you took notice of, nor at the Effect it had upon our
Company. The Humour was agreeable, and the pleasant Confusion
which the Conversation ended in, is at this time as pleasant
to me upon Reflection; when I consider, that instead of being discourag'd
from resuming the Debate, we were so much the readier
to meet again at any time, and dispute uponA the same Subjects,[78]
even with more ease and satisfaction than before.
We had been a long while entertain'd, you know, upon the Subject
of Morality and Religion. And amidst the different Opinions
started and maintain'd by several of the Partys with great Life and
Ingenuity; one or other wou'd every now and then take the liberty
to appeal to COMMON SENSE. Every-one allow'd the Appeal,
and was willing to stand the trial. No-one but was assur'd Common
Sense wou'd justify him. But when Issue was join'd, and the
Cause examin'd at the Bar, there cou'd be no Judgment given. The
Partys however were not less forward in renewing their Appeal, on
the very next occasion which presented. No-one wou'd offer to call
the Authority of the Court in question; till a Gentleman, whose
good Understanding was never yet brought in doubt, desir'd the
Company, very gravely, that they wou'd tell him what Common
Sense was.
``If by the word Sense we were to understand Opinion and Judgment,
and by the word common the Generality or any considerable
part of Mankind; 'twou'd be hard, he said, to discover where the
Subject of common Sense cou'd lie. For that which was accorAd-[79]
ing to the Sense of one part of Mankind, was against the Sense of
another. And if the Majority were to determine common Sense,
it wou'd change as often as Men chang'd. That which was accord-
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 51
Sect. 6.ing to common Sense to day, wou'd be the contrary to morrow, or
soon after.''
But notwithstanding the different Judgments of Mankind in
most Subjects, there were some however in which 'twas suppos'd
they all agreed, and had the same Thoughts in common.--The
Question was ask'd still, Where? ``For whatever was of any moment,
'twas suppos'd, might be reduc'd under the head of Religion,
Policy, or Morals.
``Of the Differences in RELIGION there was no occasion to
speak; the Case was so fully known to all, and so feelingly understood
by Christians, in particular, among themselves. They had
made sound Experiment upon one another; each Party in their
turn. No Endeavours had been wanting on the side of any particular
Sect. Which-ever chanc'd to have the Power, faiľd not of
putting all means in execution, to make their private Sense the
publick one. But all in vain. Common Sense was as hard still to
determine as Catholick or Orthodox.AWhat with onewas inconceiv- [80]
able Mystery, to another was of easy Comprehension.What to one
was Absurdity, to another was Demonstration.
``As for POLICY; What Sense or whose cou'd be calľd common,
was equally a question. If plain British or Dutch Sense were right,
Turkish and French Sense must certainly be very wrong. And as
mere Nonsense as Passive-Obedience seem'd; we found it to be the
common Sense of a great Party amongst our-selves, a greater Party
in Europe, and perhaps the greatest Part of all the World besides.
``As for MORALS; The difference, if possible, was still wider. For
without considering the Opinions and Customs of the many barbarous
and illiterate Nations; we saw that even the few who had
attain'd to riper Letters, and to Philosophy, cou'd neveras yet agree
on one and the same System, or acknowledg the same moral Principles.
And some even of our most admir'd modern Philosophers
had fairly told us, that Virtue and Vice had, after all, no other Law
or Measure, than mere Fashion and Vogue.''A [81]
It might have appear'd perhaps unfair in our Friends, had they
treated only the graver Subjects in this manner; and suffer'd the
52 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 1. lighter to escape. For in the gayer Part of Life, our Follys are as
solemn as in the most serious. The fault is, we carry the Laugh
but half-way. The false Earnest is ridicuľd, but the false Jest passes
secure, and becomes as errant Deceit as the other. Our Diversions,
our Plays, our Amusements become solemn. We dream of Happinesses,
and Possessions, and Enjoyments, in which we have no
Understanding, no Certainty; and yet we pursue these as the best
known and most certain things in the World. There is nothing so
foolish and deluding as a *partial Scepticism. For whilst the Doubt
is cast only on one side, the Certainty grows so much stronger on
the other. Whilst only one Face of Folly appears ridiculous, the
other grows more solemn and deceiving.
But 'twas not thus with our Friends.They seem'd better Criticks,
and more ingenious, and fair in their way of questioning receiv'd
Opinions, and exposing the Ridicule of Things. And if you will
allow me to carry on their Humour, I will venture to make the Experiment
thro'out; and try what certain Knowledg orAAssurance of[82]
things may be recover'd, in that very way, by which all Certainty,
you thought, was lost, and an endless Scepticism introduc'd.
PART II
S E C T I O N I
IF a Native of ETHIOPIA were on a sudden transported into
EUROPE, and placed eitherat PARIS or VENICE at a time of Carnival,when
the general Face of Mankind was disguis'd, and almost
every Creature wore a Mask; 'tis probable he wou'd for some time
be at a stand, before he discover'd the Cheat: not imagining that a
whole People cou'd be so fantastical, as upon Agreement, at an appointed
time, to transform themselves by a Variety of Habits, and
* VOL. II. pag. 230, 231.
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 53
Sect. 1.make it a solemn Practice to impose on one another, by this universal
Confusion of Characters and Persons. Tho he might at first
perhaps have look'd on this with a serious eye, it wou'd be hardly
possible for him to hold his Countenance, when he had perAceiv'd [83]
what was carrying on.The EUROPEANS, on their side, might laugh
perhaps at this Simplicity. But our ETHIOPIAN wou'd certainly
laugh with better reason. 'Tis easy to see which of the two wou'd
be ridiculous. For he who laughs, and is himself ridiculous, bears a
double share of Ridicule. However, shou'd it so happen, that in the
Transport of Ridicule, our ETHIOPIAN, having his Head still running
upon Masks, and knowing nothing of the fair Complexion
and common Dress of the EUROPEANS, shou'd upon the sight of a
natural Face and Habit, laugh just as heartily as before; wou'd not
he in his turn become ridiculous, by carrying the Jest too far; when
by a silly Presumption he took Nature for mere Art, and mistook
perhaps a Man of Sobriety and Sense for one of those ridiculous
Mummers?
There was a time when Men were accountable only for their
Actions and Behaviour. Their Opinions were left to themselves.
They had liberty to differ in these, as in their Faces. Every one
took the Air and Look which was natural to him. But in process
of time, it was thought decent to mend Mens Countenances, and
render their intellectual Complexions uniform and of a sort. Thus
the Magistrate became a Dresser, and in his turn wasAdress'd too, as [84]
he deserv'd; when he had given up his Power to a new Order of
Tire-Men. But tho in this extraordinary conjuncture 'twas agreed
that there was only one certain and true Dress, one single peculiar
Air, to which it was necessary all People shou'd conform; yet the
misery was, that neither the Magistrate nor the Tire-Men themselves,
cou'd resolve,which of thevarious Modes was the exact trueone.
Imagine now,what the Effect of this must needs be; when Men
became persecuted thus on every side about their Air and Feature,
and were put to their shifts how to adjust and compose their Mein,
according to the right Mode; when a thousand Models, a thousand
Patterns of Dress were current, and alter'd every now and
54 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 1. then, upon occasion, according to Fashion and the Humour of the
Times. Judg whether Mens Countenances were not like to grow
constrain'd, and the natural Visage of Mankind, by this Habit,
distorted, convuls'd, and render'd hardly knowable.
But as unnatural or artificial as the general Face of Things may
have been render'd by this unhappy Care of Dress, and OverTenderness
for the Safety of Complexions; we must not therefore
imagine that all Faces are alike besmear'd or plaister'd. All is not
Fucus, or mere Varnish. Nor is the Face of Truth less fairAand beau-[85]
tiful, for all the counterfeit Vizards which have been put upon her.
We must remember the Carnival, and what the Occasion has been
of this wild Concourse and Medley; who were the Institutors of
it; and to what purpose Men were thus set a-work and amus'd.We
may laugh sufficiently at the original Cheat; and, if pity will suffer
us, may make our-selves diversion enough with the Folly and
Madness of those who are thus caught, and practis'd on, by these
Impostures. But we must remember withal our ETHIOPIAN, and
beware, lest by taking plain Nature for a Vizard, we become more
ridiculous than the Peoplewhom we ridicule. Now if a Jest or Ridicule
thus strain'd, be capable of leading the Judgment so far astray;
'tis probable that an Excess of Fear or Horror may work the same
Effect.
Had it been your fortune (my Friend!) to have liv'd in ASIA at
the time when the *MAGI by an egregious Imposture got possession
of the Empire; no doubt you wou'd have had a detestation
of the Act: And perhaps the very Persons of the Men might have
grown so odious to you, that after all the Cheats and Abuses they
had committed,you might have seen 'em dispatch'd with as relentless
an eye as our later European Ancestors saw theADestruction of[86]
a like politick Body of Conjurers, the Knights Templars; who were
almost become an Over-Match for the civil Sovereign.Your Indignation
perhaps might have carry'd you to propose the razing all
Monuments and Memorials of these Magicians. You might have
* VOL. III. p. 48, 49.
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 55
Sect. 1.resolv'd not to leave so much as their Houses standing. But if it
had happen'd that these Magicians, in the time of their Dominion,
had made any Collection of Books, or compiľd any themselves,
in which they had treated of Philosophy, or Morals, or any
other Science, or Part of Learning; wou'd you have carry'd your
Resentment so far as to have extirpated these also, and condemn'd
every Opinion or Doctrine they had espous'd, for no other reason
than merely because they had espous'd it? Hardly a SCYTHIAN,
a TARTAR, or a GOTH, wou'd act or reason so absurdly. Much
less wou'd you (my Friend!) have carry'd on this MAGOPHONY, or
Priest-Massacre, with such a barbarous Zeal. For, in good earnest,
to destroy a Philosophy in hatred to a Man, implies as errant a
Tartar-Notion, as to destroy or murder a Man in order to plunder
him of his Wit, and get the inheritance of his Understanding.
I must confess indeed, that had all the Institutions, Statutes, and
Regulations of this antient Hierarchy, resembled theA fundamental [87]
*one, of the Order it-self, they might with a great deal of Justice
have been suppress'd: For one can't without some abhorrence read
that Law of theirs;
For a Magus must be born of a mother and her son.
But the Conjurers (as we'll rather suppose) having consider'd
that they ought in their Principle to appear as fair as possible to
the World, the better to conceal their Practice, found it highly for
their Interest to espouse some excellent moral Rules, and establish
the very best Maxims of this kind.They thought it for their advantage
perhaps, on their first setting out, to recommend the greatest
Purity of Religion, the greatest Integrity of Life and Manners.
They may perhaps too, in general, have preach'd up Charity and
Good-will. They may have set to view the fairest Face of human
*           , 
 . [The Persians, and especially those of them who pretend to exercise
wisdom, the Magi, marry their mothers.] Sext. Empir. Pyr. Lib. 3. cap. 24.
 Catull. 87. Nam Magus et Matre & Gnato gignatur oportet.
56 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 1. Nature; and, together with their By-Laws, and political Institutions,
have interwove the honestest Morals and best Doctrine in
the World.
How therefore shou'd we have behav'd our-selves in this Affair?
How shou'd weAhave carry'd our-selves towards this Orderof Men,[88]
at the time of the Discovery of their Cheat, and Ruin of their Empire?
Shou'd we have falľn to work instantly with their Systems,
struck at their Opinions and Doctrines without distinction, and
erected a contrary Philosophy in their teeth? Shou'd we have flown
at every religious and moral Principle, deny'd every natural and
social Affection, and render'd Men as much *Wolves as was possible
to one another,whilst we describ'd 'em such; and endeavour'd
to make them see themselves by far more monstrous and corrupt,
than with the worst Intentions it was ever possible for the worst
of 'em to become?--This, you'll say, doubtless wou'd have been a
very preposterous Part, and cou'd never have been acted by other
than mean Spirits, such as had been held in awe, and overfrighted
by the MAGI.
And yet an able and witty Philosopher of our Nation was, we
know, of lateA Years, so possess'd with a Horror of this kind, that[89]
both with respect to Politicks and Morals, he directly acted in
this Spirit of Massacre. The Fright he took upon the Sight of the
then governing Powers, who unjustly assum'd the Authority of the
People, gave him such an Abhorrence of all popular Government,
and of the very Notion of Liberty it-self; that to extinguish it for
ever, he recommends the very extinguishing of Letters, and ex*
Infra, p. 118. and VOL. II. p. 320.
 VOL. III. p. 64, 65. in the Notes.
 Mr. HOBBES, who thus expresses himself: By reading of these Greek and Latin
Authors, Men from their Childhood have gotten a Habit (under a false shew of Liberty)
of favouringTumults, and of licentious controlling the Actions of their Sovereigns. Leviathan,
Part 2. ch. 21. p. 111. By this reasoning of Mr. HOBBES it shou'd follow, that
there can never be any Tumults or deposing of Sovereigns at Constantinople, or in
Mogol. See again, p. 171 and 377 and what he intimates to his Prince (p. 193.) concerning
this Extirpation of antient Literature, in favour of his Leviathan-Hypothesis,
and new Philosophy.
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 57
Sect. 1.horts Princes not to spare so much as an antient ROMAN or GREEK
Historian.--Is not this in truth somewhat Gothick? And has not
our Philosopher, in appearance, something of the Savage, that he
shou'd use Philosophy and Learning as the SCYTHIANS are said to
have us'd ANACHARSIS and others, for having visited the Wise of
GREECE, and learnt the Manners of a polite People?
His Quarrel with Religion was the same as with Liberty. The
same Times gave him the same Terror in this other kind. He had
nothing before his Eyes beside the Ravage of Enthusiasm, and the
Artifice of those who rais'd and conducted that Spirit. And the
good sociable Man, as savage and unsociable as he wou'd make
himself and all Mankind appear by his Philosophy, expos'd himself
during his Life, and took the utmost pains,Athat after his Death [90]
we might be deliver'd from the occasion of these Terrors. He did
his utmost to shew us, ``That both in Religion and Morals we were
impos'd on by our Governors; that there was nothing which by
Nature inclin'd us either way; nothing which naturally drew us to
the Love of what was without,or beyond *our-selves'': Tho the Love
of such great Truths and sovereign Maxims as he imagin'd these
to be, made him the most laborious of all Men in composing Systems
of this kind for our Use; and forc'd him, notwithstanding his
natural Fear, to run continually the highest risk of being a Martyr
for our Deliverance.
Give me leave therefore (my Friend!) on this occasion, to prevent
your Seriousness, and assure you, that there is no such mighty
Danger as we are apt to imagine from these fierce Prosecutors of
Superstition, who are so jealous of every religious or moral Principle.
Whatever Savages they may appear in Philosophy, they are
in their common Capacity as Civil Persons, as one can wish. Their
free communicating of their Principles may witness for them. 'Tis
the height of Sociableness to be thus friendly and communicative.A [91]
If the Principles, indeed, were conceaľd from us, and made a
Mystery, they might become considerable. Things are often made
* VOL. II. p. 80.
58 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 1. so, by being kept as Secrets of a Sect or Party; and nothing helps
this more than the Antipathy and Shyness of a contrary Party. If we
fall presently into Horrors, and Consternation, upon the hearing
Maxims which are thought poisonous; we are in no disposition to
use that familiar and easy part of Reason, which is the best Antidote.
The only Poison to Reason, is Passion. For false Reasoning
is soon redress'd, where Passion is remov'd. But if the very hearing
certain Propositions of Philosophy be sufficient to move our
Passion; 'tis plain, the Poison has already gain'd on us, and we are
effectually prevented in the use of our reasoning Faculty.
Were it not for the Prejudices of this kind; what shou'd hinder
us from diverting our-selves with the Fancy of one of these modern
Reformers we have been speaking of? What shou'd we say to one
of these Anti-zealots, who, in the Zeal of such a cool Philosophy,
shou'd assure us faithfully, ``That we were the most mistaken Men
in the world, to imagine there was any such thing as natural Faith
or Justice? for that itAwas only Force and Power which constituted[92]
Right. That there was no such thing in reality as Virtue; no Principle
of Order in things above, or below; no secret Charm or Force
of Nature, by which every-one was made to operate willingly or
unwillingly towards publick Good, and punish'd and tormented
if he did otherwise.''--Is not this the very Charm it-self? Is not
the Gentleman at this instant under the power of it?--``Sir! The
Philosophy you have condescended to reveal to us, is most extraordinary.
We are beholden to you for your Instruction. But, pray,
whence is this Zeal in our behalf? What are We to You? Are You
our Father? Or if You were, why this Concern for Us? Is there then
such a thing as natural Affection? If not; why all this Pains, why all
this Dangeron ouraccount? Why not keep this Secret toYour-self?
Of what advantage is it to You, to deliver us from the Cheat? The
more are taken in it, the better. 'Tis directly against your Interest
to undeceive Us, and let us know that only private Interest governs
You; and that nothing nobler, or of a larger kind, shou'd govern
us, whom you converse with. Leave us to our-selves, and to that
notable Art by which we are hapApily tam'd, and render'd thus mild[93]
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 59
Sect. 2.and sheepish. 'Tis not fit we shou'd know that by Nature we are
all Wolves. Is it possible that one who has really discover'd himself
such, shou'd take pains to communicate such a Discovery?''
S E C T I O N I I
IN reality (my Friend!) a severe Brow may well be spar'd on this
occasion; when we are put thus upon the Defense of common
Honesty, by such fair honest Gentlemen, who are in Practice so
different from what they wou'd appear in Speculation. Knaves I
know there are in Notion and Principle, as well as in Practice: who
think all Honesty as well as Religion a mere Cheat; and by a very
consistent reasoning, have resolv'd deliberately to do whatever by
Power or Art they are able, for their private Advantage. But such as
these never open themselves in Friendship to others.They have no
such Passion for Truth, or Love for Mankind.They have no Quarrel
with Religion or Morals; but know what use to make of both,
upon occasion. If they ever discover their Principles, 'tis only at
unawares. They are sure to preach Honesty, and go to Church.A [94]
ON the other side, the Gentlemen for whom I am apologizing,
cannot however be calľd Hypocrites. They speak as ill of themselves
as they possibly can. If they have hard thoughts of human Nature;
'tis a Proof still of their Humanity, that they give such warning to
the World. If they represent Men by Nature treacherous and wild,
'tis out of care for Mankind; lest by being too tame and trusting,
they shou'd easily be caught.
Impostors naturally speak the best of human Nature, that they
may the easier abuse it. These Gentlemen, on the contrary, speak
the worst; and had rather they themselves shou'd be censur'd with
the rest, than that a Few shou'd by Imposture prevail over the Many.
For 'tis Opinion of Goodness *which creates Easiness of Trust: and
by Trust we are betray'd to Power; our very Reason being thus cap*
VOL. II. p. 334 and VOL. III. p. 114.
60 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 3. tivated by those in whom we come insensibly to have an implicit
Faith. But supposing one another to be by Nature such very Savages,
we shall take care to come less in one another's power: and
apprehending Power to be insatiably coveted by all, we shall the
better fence against the Evil; not by giving all into one Hand (as
the Champion of thisA Cause wou'd have us) but, on the contrary,[95]
by a right Division and Balance of Power, and by the Restraint of
good Laws and Limitations,which may secure the publick Liberty.
Shou'd you therefore ask me, whether I really thought these
Gentlemen were fully persuaded of the Principles they so often
advance in Company? I shou'd tell you,That tho I wou'd not absolutely
arraign the Gentlemens Sincerity; yet there was something
of Mystery in the Case, more than was imagin'd.The Reason, perhaps,
why Men of Wit delight so much to espouse these paradoxical
Systems, is not in truth that they are so fully satisfy'd with 'em;
but in a view the better to oppose some other Systems, which by
their fair appearance have help'd, they think, to bring Mankind
under Subjection. They imagine that by this general Scepticism,
which they wou'd introduce, they shall better deal with the dogmatical
Spirit which prevails in some particular Subjects. And when
they have accustom'd Men to bear Contradiction in the main, and
hear the Nature of Things disputed, at large; it may be safer, they
conclude, to argue separately, upon certain nice Points in which
they are not altogether so well satisfy'd. So that from hence, perhaps,
you may still better apprehend why, in Conversation,A the[96]
Spirit of Raillery prevails so much, and Notions are taken up for
no reason besides their being odd, and out of the way.
S E C T I O N I I I
BUT let who will condemn the Humour thus describ'd; for my
part, I am in no such apprehension from this sceptical kind
of Wit. Men indeed may, in a serious way, be so wrought on, and
confounded, by different Modes of Opinion, different Systems
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 61
Sect. 3.and Schemes impos'd by Authority, that they may wholly lose all
Notion or Comprehension of Truth. I can easily apprehend what
Effect Awe has over Mens Understandings. I can very well suppose
Men may be frighted out of their Wits: but I have no apprehension
they shou'd be laugh'd out of 'em. I can hardly imagine that
in a pleasant way they shou'd ever be talk'd out of their Love for
Society, or reason'd out of Humanity and common Sense. A mannerly
Wit can hurt no Cause or Interest for which I am in the
least concern'd: And philosophical Speculations, politely manag'd,
can never surely render Mankind more un-sociable or un-civiliz'd.
This is not the Quarter from whence I can possibly expect an Inroad
of Savageness and Barbarity. And by the best of my Observation,
I have learnt, that Virtue isAnever such a Sufferer, by being [97]
contested, as by being betray'd. My Fear is not so much from its
witty Antagonists, who give it Exercise, and put it on its Defense,
as from its tender Nurses, who are apt to over-lay it, and kill it,
with Excess of Care and Cherishing.
I Have known a Building, which by the Officiousness of the
Workmen has been so shor'd, and screw'd up, on the sidewhere they
pretended it had a Leaning, that it has at last been turn'd the contrary
way, and overthrown. There has something, perhaps, of this
kind happen'd in Morals. Men have not been contented to shew
the natural Advantages of Honesty and Virtue. They have rather
lessen'd these, the better, as they thought, to advance another
Foundation. They have made Virtue so mercenary a thing, and
have talk'd so much of its Rewards, that one can hardly tell what
there is in it, after all, which can be worth rewarding. For to be
brib'd only or terrify'd into an honest Practice, bespeaks little of
real Honesty or Worth.We may make, 'tis true, whatever Bargain
we think fit; and may bestow in favour what Overplus we please.
But there can be no Excellence or Wisdom in voluntarily rewarding
what is neither estimable, nor deserving. And if Virtue be not
reallyAestimable in it-self, I can see nothing estimable in following [98]
it for the sake of a Bargain.
If the Love of doing good, be not, of it-self, a good and right
62 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 3. Inclination; I know not how there can possibly be such a thing as
Goodness or Virtue. If the Inclination be right; 'tis a perverting of it,
to apply it solely to the Reward, and make us conceive such Wonders
of the Grace and Favour which is to attend Virtue; when there
is so little shewn of the intrinsick Worth or Value of the Thing
it-self.
I cou'd be almost tempted to think, that the true Reason why
some of the most heroick Virtues have so little notice taken of 'em
in our holy Religion, is, because there wou'd have been no room
left for Disinterestedness, had they been intitled to a share of that
infinite Reward, which Providence has by Revelation assign'd to
other Dutys. *Private Friendship, andAZeal for the Publick, and our[99]
* By Private Friendship no fair Reader can here suppose is meant that common
Benevolence and Charity which every Christian is oblig'd to shew towards all Men,
and in particular towards his Fellow-Christians, his Neighbour, Brother, and Kindred,
of whatever degree; but that peculiar Relation which is form'd by a Consent
and Harmony of Minds, by mutual Esteem, and reciprocal Tenderness and Affection;
and which we emphatically call a FRIENDSHIP. Such was that between the
two Jewish Heroes after-mention'd, whose Love and Tenderness was surpassing that
of Women, (2 Samuel, ch. 1.) Such were those Friendships describ'd so frequently
by Poets, between PYLADES and ORESTES, THESEUS and PIRITHOUS, with many
others. Such were those between Philosophers, Heroes, and the greatest of Men;
between SOCRATES and ANTISTHENES, PLATO and DION, EPAMINONDAS and
PELOPIDAS, SCIPIO and LAELIUS, CATO and BRUTUS, THRASEA and HELVIDIUS.
And such there may have lately been, and are still perhaps in our own Age;
tho Envy suffers not the few Examples of this kind to be remark'd in publick. The
Author's Meaning is indeed so plain of it-self, that it needs no explanatory Apology
to satisfy an impartial Reader. As for others who object the Singularity of the Assertion,
as differing, they suppose, from what our Reverend Doctors in Religion
commonly maintain, they may read what the learned and pious Bishop Taylor says
in his Treatise of Friendship. ``You inquire,'' says he, ``how far a dear and a perfect
Friendship is authoriz'd by the Principles of Christianity?'' To this I answer,
``That the word Friendship in the sense we commonly mean by it, is not so much as
nam'd in the New Testament; and our Religion takes no notice of it.'' ``You think it
strange; but read on, before you spend so much as the beginning of a Passion or a
Wonder upon it.'' ``There is mention of Friendship of the World; and it is said to be
Enmity with God: but the Word is no where else nam'd, or to any other purpose, in
all the New Testament.'' ``It speaks of Friends often; but by Friends are meant our
Acquaintance, or our Kindred, the Relatives of our Family, or our Fortune, or our
Sect, &c.--And I think I have reason to be confident, that the word Friend (speak-
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 63
Sect. 3.Country, are Virtues purely voluntary in a Christian. They are no
essential Parts of his Charity. He is not so ty'd to the Affairs of this
Life; nor is he oblig'd to enter into such Engagements with this
lower World, as are of no help to him in acquiring a better. His
Conversation is in Heaven. Nor has he occasion for such supernumerary
CaresA or Embarassments here on Earth, as may obstruct [100]
his way thither,or retard him in the careful Task of working out his
own Salvation. If nevertheless any Portion of Reward be reserv'd
hereafter for the generous Part of a Patriot, or that of a thorow
Friend; this is still behind the Curtain, and happily conceaľd from
us; that we may be the more deserving of it, when it comes.A [101]
It appears indeed under the Jewish Dispensation, that each of
these Virtues had their illustrious Examples, and were in some
manner recommended to us as honourable, and worthy our Imitation.
Even SAUL himself, as ill a Prince as he is represented, appears
both living and dying to have been respected and prais'd for the
Love he bore his native Country. And the Love which was so remarkable
between his Son and his Successor, gives us a noble View
of a disinterested Friendship, at least on one side. But the heroick
Virtue of these Persons had only the common Reward of Praise
ing of human Intercourse) is no otherways us'd in the Gospels, or Epistles, or Acts
of the Apostles.'' And afterwards, ``Christian Charity'' (says he) ``is Friendship to
all the World; and when Friendships were the noblest things in the World, Charity
was little, like the Sun drawn in at a Chink, or his Beams drawn into the Center
of a Burning-glass: But Christian Charity is Friendship expanded like the Face of
the Sun, when it mounts above the Eastern Hills.'' In reality the good Bishop draws
all his Notions as well as Examples of private Friendship from the Heathen World,
or from the Times preceding Christianity. And after citing a Greek Author, he immediately
adds: ``Of such immortal, abstracted, pure Friendships, indeed there is no
great plenty; but they who are the same to their Friend  [at a distance],
when he is in another Country, or in another World, are fit to preserve the sacred
Fire for eternal Sacrifices, and to perpetuate the Memory of those exemplary Friendships
of the best Men, which have filľd the World with History and Wonder: for
in no other sense but this can it be true, that Friendships are pure Loves, regarding
to do good more than to receive it. He that is a Friend after Death, hopes not for a
Recompence from his Friend, and makes no bargain either for Fame or Love; but
is rewarded with the Conscience and Satisfaction of doing bravely.''
64 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 1. attributed to it, and cou'd not claim a future Recompence under a
Religion which taught no future State, nor exhibited any Rewards
or Punishments, besides such as were Temporal, and had respect
to the written Law.
And thus the Jews as well as Heathens were left to their Philosophy,
to be instructed in the sublime part of Virtue, and induc'd
by Reason to that which was never injoin'd 'em by Command. No
Premium or Penalty being inforc'd in these Cases, the disinterested
Part subsisted, the Virtue was a free Choice, and the Magnanimity
of the Act was left intire. He who wou'd be generous, had
the Means. He who wou'd frankly serve his Friend, or CounAtry, at[102]
the *expence even of his Life, might do it on fair terms. DULCE ET
DECORUM EST was his sole Reason. 'Twas Inviting and Becoming.
'Twas Good and Honest. And that this is still a good Reason, and
according to Common Sense, I will endeavour to satisfy you. For I
shou'd think my-self very ridiculous to be angry with any-one for
thinking me dishonest; if I cou'd give no account of my Honesty,
nor shew upon what Principle I differ'd from a Knave.A[103]
PART III
S E C T I O N I
THE Roman Satirist may be thought more than ordinarily satirical,
when speaking of the Nobility and Court, he is so far
from allowing them to be the Standard of Politeness and good
Sense, that he makes 'em in a manner the Reverse.
* Peradventure, says the holy Apostle, for a good Man one wou'd even dare to die,
   , &c. Rom. ch. 5. v. 7. This the Apostle judiciously supposes to
belong to human Nature: tho he is so far from founding any Precept on it, that he
ushers his private Opinion with a very dubious Peradventure.
 HORAT. Lib. 3. Od. 2.
 Inf. p. 130, 131, &c. 172.
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 65
Sect. 1.*Rare is common sense in men of that rank.
Some of the most ingenious Commentators, however, interpret
this very differently from what is generally apprehended.A They [104]
* Rarus enim ferm Sensus communis in illâ
Fortunâ
Juv. Sat. 8. v. 73.
 Viz. The two Casaubons, Is. and Mer. Salmasius, and our English Gataker: See
the first in Capitolinus,Vit. M. Ant. sub finem. The second in his Comment on M.
Ant. lib. 1. sect. 13, & 16. Gataker on the same place; and Salmasius in the same Life
of Capitolinus, at the end of his Annotations. The Greek word is 
[common sensibility], which Salmasius interprets, ``moderatam, usitatam & ordinariam
hominis mentem quae in commune quodammodo consulit, nec omnia ad
commodum suum refert, respectumque etiam habet eorum cum quibus versatur,
modest, modicéque de se sentiens. At contra inflati & superbi omnes se sibi tantm
suisque commodis natos arbitrantur, & prae se caeteros contemnunt & negligunt;
& hi sunt qui Sensum Communem non habere rect dici possunt. Nam ita Sensum
Communem accipit Juvenalis, Sat. 8. Rarus enim ferm SENSUS COMMUNIS,
&c.  &  Galenus vocat, quam Marcus de se loquens
; & alibi, ubi de eadem re loquitur,   ,
qua gratiam illi fecerit Marcus simul eundi ad Germanicum Bellum ac sequendi
se.'' [the moderate, customary and ordinary disposition of a man who in
some measure has regard for the common good and does not refer all things to his
personal advantage and also has consideration for those with whom he is engaged,
temperatelyand modestlyconfident of himself. But on the other hand all those men,
swollen and proud, think that they have been born only for themselves and for their
own interests and they little value all other men in comparison with themselves and
are indifferent to them. And these are such men who can be said rightly not to have
common sense. For so Juvenal Sat. viii understood sensum communem, For quite
rare is common sense, etc. Galen calls it Philanthropyand Kindness whereas Marcus
coins it common sensibility, and in another placewhere he employs similar terms for
measuredness and kindness in accord with which Marcus did the favor for the man
of going to the German war and at the same time of attending him.] In the same
manner Isaac Casaubon: Herodianus, says he, calls this the    .
``Subjicit ver Antoninus quasi hanc vocem interpretans,     
   ,   .'' [Herodian calls
this the mean and equal. Antoninus suggests, as if interpreting this thought, it is
necessary that he never permit his friends either to dine with him or to go abroad
with him.] This, I am persuaded, is the Sensus Communis of HORACE, Sat. 3. lib. 1.
which has been unobserv'd, as far as I can learn, by any of his Commentators: it
being remarkable withal, that in this early Satir of HORACE, before his latter days,
and when his Philosophy as yet inclin'd to the less rigid Assertors of Virtue, he puts
this Expression (as may be seen by the whole Satir taken together) into the Mouth
of a Crispinus, or some ridiculous Mimick of that severe Philosophy, to which the
Coinage of the word  [common sensibility] properly belong'd. For
66 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 1. make this Common Sense of the Poet, by a Greek Derivation, to signify
Sense of Publick Weal, and of the Common Interest; Love of the
Community or Society, natural Affection, Humanity, Obligingness,
or that sort of Civility which rises from a just Sense of the common
Rights of Mankind, and the natural Equality there is among those
of the same Species.
And indeed if we consider the thing nicely, it must seem somewhat
hard in the Poet, to have deny'd Wit or Ability to aA Court[105]
such as that of ROME, even under a TIBERIUS or a NERO. But
for Humanity or Sense of Publick Good, and the common Interest of
Mankind, 'twas no such deep Satir to question whether this was
so the Poet again (Sat. 4. v. 77.) uses theword SENSUS, speaking of thosewhowithout
Sense of Manners, or common Society, without the least respect or deference to
others, press rudely upon their Friends, and upon all Company in general, without
regard to Time or Place, or any thing besides their selfish and brutish Humour:
Haud illud quaerentes, num sine SENSU,
Tempore num faciant alieno. ,
[They do something without asking whether it is senseless or at an
inconvenient time imperceptibly]
as old Lambin interprets it, tho without any other Explanation; referring only to
the Sensus Communis of HORACE in that other Satir. Thus SENECA, Epist. 105.
Odium autem ex offensa sic vitabis, neminem lacessendo gratuit:  quo te SENSUS
COMMUNIS tuebitur. [Moreover, you will avoid hatred from offenses by provoking
no one unnecessarily: from which common sense will protect you.] And
CICERO accordingly, Justitiae partes sunt, non violare homines: Verecundiae, non offendere.
Lib. 1. de Off. [The function of justice is not to harm men, that of respect
not to offend them.] It may be objected possibly by some, particularly vers'd in
the Philosophy above-mention'd, that the   [common understanding],
to which the  [common sensibility] seems to have relation, is of
a different meaning. But they will consider withal how small the distinction was
in that Philosophy, between the  [conjecture], and the vulgar 
[perception]; how generally Passion was by those Philosophers brought under the
Head of Opinion. And when they consider, besides this, the very Formation of the
word  [common sensibility] upon the Model of the other femaliz'd
Virtues, the , , , [kindness, moderation, justice,]
&c. they will no longer hesitate on this Interpretation.--The Reader may perhaps
by this Note see better why the Latin Title of Sensus Communis has been given
to this second Treatise. He may observe, withal, how the same Poet JUVENAL uses
the word Sensus, in Sat. 15. Haec nostri pars optima Senss. [This quality of gentleness
is the best part of our sense.]
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 67
Sect. 1.properly the Spirit of a Court. 'Twas difficult to apprehend what
Community subsisted among Courtiers; or what Publick between
an absolute Prince and his Slave-Subjects. And for real Society,
there cou'dAbe none between such as had no other Sense than that [106]
of private Good.
Our Poet therefore seems not so immoderate in his Censure;
if we consider it is the Heart, rather than the Head, he takes to
task: when reflecting on a Court-Education, he thinks it unapt
to raise any Affection towards a Country; and looks upon young
Princes, and Lords, as the young Masters of the World; who being
indulg'd in all their Passions, and train'd up in all mannerof Licentiousness,
have that thorow Contempt and Disregard of Mankind,
which Mankind in a manner deserves, where Arbitrary Power is
permitted, and a Tyranny ador'd.
*So much for the young man whom fame gives out as proud
and puffed-up, and full of his relationship to Nero.
A publick Spirit can come only from a social Feeling or Sense
of Partnership with human Kind. Now there are none so far from
being Partners in this Sense, or Sharers in this common Affection, as
they who scarcely know an Equal, nor consider themselves as subject
to any Law of Fellowship or Community. And thus Morality
and good Government go together.ThereAis no real Love of Virtue, [107]
without the knowledg of Publick Good. And where absolute Power
is, there is no PUBLICK.
They who live under a Tyranny, and have learnt to admire its
Power as Sacred and Divine, are debauch'd as much in their Religion,
as in their Morals. Publick Good, according to their apprehension,
is as little the Measure or Rule of Government in the Universe,
as in the State. They have scarce a Notion of what is good
or just, other than as mere Will and Power have determin'd. Om*
Haec satis ad Juvenem, quem nobis fama superbum
Tradit, & inflatum, plenumque Nerone propinquo.
Juv. Sat. 8.
68 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 1. nipotence, they think, wou'd hardly be it-self, were it not at liberty
to *dispense with the Laws of Equity, and change at pleasure the
Standard of moral Rectitude.
But notwithstanding the Prejudices and Corruptions of this
kind, 'tis plain there is something still of a publick Principle, even
where it is most perverted and depress'd.Theworst of Magistracys,
the mere Despotick kind, can shew sufficient Instances of Zeal and
Affection towards it. Where no other Government is known, it
seldom fails of having that Allegiance and Duty paid it, which is
owing to a better Form. The Eastern Countrys, and many barbarous
Nations, have been and still are Examples of this kind.
The personal Love they bear their Prince, however severeAtowards[108]
them, may shew, how natural an Affection there is towards Government
and Order among Mankind. If Men have really no publick
Parent, no Magistrate in common to cherish and protect 'em,
they will still imagine they have such a one; and, like new-born
Creatures who have never seen their Dam, will fansy one for themselves,
and apply (as by Nature prompted) to some like Form, for
Favour and Protection. In the room of a true Foster-Father, and
Chief, they will take after a false one; and in the room of a legal Government
and just Prince, obey even a Tyrant, and endure a whole
Lineage and Succession of such.
As for us BRITONS, thank Heaven, we have a better Sense of
Government deliver'd to us from our Ancestors.We have the Notion
of A PUBLICK, and A CONSTITUTION; how a Legislative, and
how an Executive is modeľd. We understand Weight and Measure
in this kind, and can reason justly on the Balance of Power
and Property. The Maxims we draw from hence, are as evident as
those in Mathematicks. Our increasing Knowledg shews us every
day, more and more, what COMMON SENSE is in Politicks: And
this must of necessity lead us to understand a like Sense in Morals;
which is the Foundation.A[109]
'TIS ridiculous to say, there is any Obligation on Man to act
* Inf. pag. 298.
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 69
Sect. 2.sociably, or honestly, in a form'd Government; and not in that
which is commonly calľd *the State of Nature. For, to speak in the
fashionable Language of our modern Philosophy: ``Society being
founded on a Compact; the Surrender made of every Man's private
unlimited Right, into the hands of the Majority, or such as
the Majority shou'd appoint, was of free Choice, and by a Promise.''
Now the Promise it-self was made in the State of Nature: And
that which cou'd make a Promise obligatory in the State of Nature,
must make all other Acts of Humanity as much our real Duty, and
natural Part. Thus Faith, Justice, Honesty, and Virtue, must have
been as early as the State of Nature, or they cou'd never have been
at all. The Civil Union, or Confederacy, cou'd never make Right
or Wrong; if they subsisted not before. He who was free to any Villany
before his Contract, will, and ought to make as free with his
Contract, when he thinks fit.The Natural Knave has the same reason
to be a Civil one; and may dispense with his politick Capacity
as oft as he sees occasion: 'Tis only his Word stands in his way.--
A Man is oblig'd to keep his Word. Why? Because he has given hisA [110]
Word to keep it.--Is not this a notable Account of the Original of
moral Justice, and the Rise of Civil Government and Allegiance!
S E C T I O N I I
BUT to pass by these Cavils of a Philosophy, which speaks so
much of Nature with so little meaning; we may with justice
surely place it as a Principle, ``That if any thing be natural, in any
Creature, or any Kind; 'tis that which is preservative of the Kind itself,
and conducing to its Welfare and Support.'' If in original and
pure Nature, it be wrong to break a Promise, or be treacherous; 'tis
as truly wrong to be in any respect inhuman, or any way wanting
in our natural part towards human Kind. If Eating and Drinking
be natural, Herding is so too. If any Appetite or Sense be natural,
* VOL. II. p. 306, 310, &c.
70 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 2. the Sense of Fellowship is the same. If there be any thing of Nature
in that Affection which is between the Sexes, the Affection is certainly
as natural towards the consequent Offspring; and so again
between the Offspring themselves, as Kindred and Companions,
bred under the same Discipline and Oeconomy. And thus a Clan
or Tribe is gradually form'd; a Publick is recogniz'd: and besides
the Pleasure found in social Entertainment, Language, and Dis-A[111]
course, there is so apparent a Necessity for continuing this good
Correspondency and Union, that to have no Sense or Feeling of
this kind, no Love of Country, Community, or any thing in common,
wou'd be the same as to be insensible even of the plainest
Means of Self-Preservation, and most necessary Condition of Self-
Enjoyment.
How the Wit of Man shou'd so puzzle this Cause, as to make
Civil Government and Society appear a kind of Invention, and
Creature of Art, I know not. For myown part, methinks, this herding
Principle, and associating Inclination, is seen so natural and
strong in most Men, that one might readily affirm, 'twas even from
the Violence of this Passion that so much Disorder arose in the
general Society of Mankind.
Universal Good, or the Interest of the World in general, is a kind
of remote philosophical Object. That greater Community falls not
easily under the Eye. Nor is a National Interest, or that of a whole
People, or Body Politick, so readily apprehended. In less Partys,
Men may be intimately conversant and acquainted with one another.
They can there better taste Society, and enjoy the common
Good and Interest of a more contracted Publick. They view the
whole Compass and ExtentA of their Community; and see, and[112]
know particularly whom they serve, and to what end they associate
and conspire. All Men have naturally their share of this combining
Principle: and they who are of the sprightliest and most active
Facultys, have so large a share of it, that unless it be happily directed
by right Reason, it can never find Exercise for it-self in so
remote a Sphere as that of the Body Politick at large. For here perhaps
the thousandth part of those whose Interests are concern'd,
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 71
Sect. 2.are scarce so much as known by sight. Novisible Band is form'd; no
strict Alliance: but the Conjunction is madewith different Persons,
Orders, and Ranks of Men; not sensibly, but in Idea; according to
that general View or Notion of a State or Commonwealth.
Thus the social Aim is disturb'd, for want of certain Scope. The
close Sympathy and conspiring Virtue is apt to lose it-self, for want
of Direction, in so wide a Field. Nor is the Passion any-where so
strongly felt, or vigorously exerted, as in actual Conspiracy or War;
in which the highest Genius's are often known the forwardest to
employ themselves. For the most generous Spirits are the most
combining. They delight most to move in Concert; and feel (if I
may so say) in the strongest manner, the force of the confederating
Charm.A [113]
'Tis strange to imagine that War, which of all things appears the
most savage, shou'd be the Passion of the most heroick Spirits. But
'tis in War that the Knot of Fellowship is closest drawn. 'Tis in War
that mutual Succour is most given, mutual Danger run, and common
Affection most exerted and employ'd. For Heroism and Philanthropy
are almost one and the same.Yet by a small mis-guidance
of the Affection, a Lover of Mankind becomes a Ravager: A Hero
and Deliverer becomes an Oppressor and Destroyer.
Hence other Divisions amongst Men. Hence, in the way of
Peace and Civil Government, that Love of Party, and Subdivision
by Cabal. For Sedition is a kind of cantonizing already begun
within the State. To cantonize is natural; when the Society grows
vast and bulky: And powerful States have found other Advantages
in sending Colonys abroad, than merely that of having Elbowroom
at home, or extending their Dominion into distant Countrys.Vast
Empires are in many respects unnatural: but particularly
in this, That be they ever so well constituted, the Affairs of many
must, in such Governments, turn upon a very few; and the Relation
be less sensible, and in a manner lost, between the Magistrate
and People, in a Body so unAwieldy in its Limbs, and whose Mem- [114]
bers lie so remote from one another, and distant from the Head.
'Tis in such Bodys as these that strong Factions are aptest to
72 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 3. engender. The associating Spirits, for want of Exercise, form new
Movements, and seek a narrower Sphere of Activity, when they
want Action in a greater. Thus we have Wheels within Wheels. And
in some National Constitutions, notwithstanding the Absurdity
in Politicks, we have one Empire within another. Nothing is so delightful
as to incorporate. Distinctions of many kinds are invented.
Religious Societys are form'd. Orders are erected; and their Interests
espous'd, and serv'd, with the utmost Zeal and Passion. Founders
and Patrons of this sort are never wanting.Wonders are perform'd,
in this wrong social Spirit, by those Members of separate Societys.
And the associating Genius of Man is never better prov'd, than in
those very Societys, which are form'd in opposition to the general
one of Mankind, and to the real Interest of the State.
In short, thevery Spirit of Faction, for the greatest part, seems to
be no other than the Abuse or Irregularity of that social Love, and
common Affection, which is natural to Mankind. For the OppositeAof
Sociableness is Selfishness. And of all Characters, the thorow-[115]
selfish one is the least forward in taking Party. The Men of this
sort are, in this respect, true Men of Moderation. They are secure
of their Temper; and possess themselves too well, to be in danger
of entering warmly into any Cause, or engaging deeply with any
Side or Faction.
S E C T I O N I I I
YOU have heard it (my Friend!) as a common Saying, that
Interest governs the World. But, I believe, whoever looks narrowly
into the Affairs of it,will find, that Passion, Humour, Caprice,
Zeal, Faction, and a thousand other Springs, which are counter to
Self-Interest, have as considerable a part in the Movements of this
Machine. There are more Wheels and Counter-Poises in this Engine
than are easily imagin'd. 'Tis of too complex a kind, to fall
under one simple View, or be explain'd thus briefly in a word or
two. The Studiers of this Mechanism must have a very partial Eye,
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 73
Sect. 3.to overlook all other Motions besides those of the lowest and narrowest
compass. 'Tis hard, that in the Plan or Description of this
Clock-work, no Wheel or Balance shou'd be allow'd on the side
of the better and more enlarg'd Affections; that nothing shou'd be
understood to beA done in Kindness, or Generosity; nothing in pure [116]
Good-Nature or Friendship, or thro' any social or natural Affection
of any kind: when, perhaps, the main Springs of this Machine will
be found to be either these very natural Affections themselves, or a
compound kind deriv'd from them, and retaining more than one
half of their Nature.
But here (my Friend!) you must not expect that I shou'd draw
you up a formal *Scheme of the Passions, or pretend to shew you
their Genealogy and Relation; how they are interwoven with one
another, or interfere with our Happiness and Interest. 'Twou'd be
out of the Genius and Compass of such a Letter as this, to frame
a just Plan or Model; by which you might, with an accurate View,
observe what Proportion the friendly and natural Affections seem
to bear in this Order of Architecture.
Modern Projectors, I know, wou'd willingly rid their hands of
these natural Materials; and wou'd fain build after a more uniform
way. They wou'd new-frame the human Heart; and have a mighty
fancy to reduce all its Motions, Balances and Weights, to that one
Principle and Foundation of a cool and deliberate Selfishness. Men,
it seems, are unAwilling to think they can be so outwitted, and im- [117]
pos'd on by Nature, as to be made to serve her Purposes, rather
than their own. They are asham'd to be drawn thus out of themselves,
and forc'd from what they esteem their true Interest.
There has been in all times a sort of narrow-minded Philosophers,
who have thought to set this Difference to rights, by conquering
Nature in themselves. A primitive Father and Founder
among these, saw well this Power of Nature, and understood it so
far, that he earnestly exhorted his Followers neither to beget Chil*
See the fourth Treatise, viz. Inquiry concerning Virtue: VOL. II.
 Supra, pag. 49. And VOL. II. 80.VOL. III. 32, 35, &c.
74 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 3. dren, nor serve their Country. There was no dealing with Nature,
it seems, while these alluring Objects stood in the way. Relations,
Friends, Countrymen, Laws, Politick Constitutions, the Beauty of
Order and Government, and the Interest of Society and Mankind,
were Objects which, he well saw, wou'd naturally raise a stronger
Affection than any which was grounded upon the narrow bottom
of mere SELF. His Advice, therefore, not to marry, norengage at all
in the Publick, was wise, and sutable to his Design. There was no
way to be truly a Disciple of this Philosophy, but to leave Family,
Friends, Country, and Society, to cleave to it.--And, inA good ear-[118]
nest, who wou'd not, if it were Happiness to do so?--The Philosopher,
however, was kind, in telling us his Thought. 'Twas a Token
of his fatherly Love of Mankind.
*Thou, Father, art [es is the revised reading] discoverer of
things; thou givest us fatherly precepts.
But the Revivers of this Philosophy in latter Days, appear to be
of a lower Genius. They seem to have understood less of this force
of Nature, and thought to alter the Thing, by shifting a Name.
They wou'd so explain all the social Passions, and natural Affections,
as to denominate 'em of the selfish kind. Thus Civility, Hospitality,
Humanity towards Strangers or People in distress, is only
a more deliberate Selfishness. An honest Heart is only a more cunning
one: and Honesty and Good-Nature, a more deliberate, or betterregulated
Self-Love. The Love of Kindred, Children and Posterity,
is purely Love of Self, and of one's own immediate Blood: As if, by
this Reckoning, all Mankind were not included; All being of one
Blood, and join'd by Inter-Marriages and Alliances; as they have
been transplanted in Colonys, and mix'd one with another. AndA[119]
thus Love of one's Country, and Love of Mankind, must also be SelfLove.
Magnanimity and Courage, no doubt, are Modifications of
* Tu Pater, & rerum Inventor! Tu patria nobis
Suppeditas praecepta!
Lucret. lib. 3.
 Supra, p. 88. And VOL. II. p. 320.
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 75
Sect. 3.this universal Self-Love! For *Courage (says our modern Philosopher)
is constant Anger. And all Men (says a witty Poet) wou'd be
Cowards if they durst.
That the Poet, and the Philosopher both, were Cowards, may
be yielded perhaps without dispute. They may have spoken the
best of their Knowledg. But for true Courage, it has so little to do
with Anger, that there lies always the strongest Suspicion against it,
where this Passion is highest.The true Courage is the cool and calm.
The bravest of Men have the least of a brutal bullying Insolence;
and in the very time of Danger are found the most serene, pleasant,
and free. Rage, we know, can make a Coward forget himself
and fight. But what is done in Fury or Anger, can never be plac'd
to the account of Courage. Were it otherwise,Womankind might
claim to be the stoutest Sex: for their Hatred and Anger have ever
been allow'd the strongest and most lasting.A [120]
Other Authors there have been of a yet inferior kind: a sort
of Distributers and petty Retailers of this Wit; who have run
Changes, and Divisions, without end, upon this Article of SelfLove.
You have the very same Thought spun out a hundred ways,
and drawn into Motto's, and Devises, to set forth this Riddle; That
``act as disinterestedly or generously as you please, Self still is at the
bottom, and nothing else.'' Now if these Gentlemen, who delight
so much in the Play of Words, but are cautious how they grapple
closely with Definitions,wou'd tell us only what **Self-Interest was,
and determine Happiness and Good, there wou'd be an end of this
* Sudden Courage (says Mr. HOBBES, Lev. chap. 6.) is Anger. Therefore Courage
consider'd as constant, and belonging to a Character, must, in his account, be
defin'd constant Anger, or Anger constantly returning.
 Lord ROCHESTER. Satir against Man.
 The French Translator supposes with good reason,That our Author, in this Passage,
had an eye to those Sentences, or Maxims, which pass under the name of the
Duke DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULT. He has added, withal, the Censure of this kind of
Wit, and of these Maxims in particular, by some Authors of the same Nation. The
Passages are too long to insert here: tho they are otherwise very just and entertaining.
That which he has cited of old MONTAIGNE, is from the first Chapter of his
second Essay.
** VOL. II. p. 22, 23, &c. 78, 79, 80, &c. 87, &c. 139, 140, &c.
76 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 4. enigmatical Wit. For in this we shou'd all agree, that Happiness
was to be pursu'd, and in fact was always sought after: but whether
found in following Nature, and giving way to common Affection;
or in suppressing it, and turning every Passion towards private AdvanAtage,
a narrow Self-End, or the Preservation of mere Life; this[121]
wou'd be the matter in debate between us.The Question wou'd not
be, ``Who lov'd himself, or Who noť'; but ``Who lov'd and serv'd
himself the rightest, and after the truest manner.''
'Tis the height of Wisdom, no doubt, to be rightly selfish. And
to value Life, as far as Life is good, belongs as much to Courage
as to Discretion. But a wretched Life is no wise Man's wish. To
be without Honesty, is, in effect, to be without natural Affection
or Sociableness of any kind. And a Life without natural Affection,
Friendship, or Sociableness, wou'd be found a wretched one, were
it to be try'd. 'Tis as these Feelings and Affections are intrinsecally
valuable and worthy, that Self-Interest is to be rated and esteem'd.
A Man is by nothing so much himself, as by his Temper, and the
Characterof his Passions and Affections. If he loses what is manlyand
worthy in these, he is as much lost to himself as when he loses his
Memory and Understanding. The least step into Villany or Baseness,
changes the Character and Value of a Life. He who wou'd
preserve Life at any rate, must abuse himself more than any-one
can abuse him. And if Life be not a dear thing indeed, he who has
refus'd to live a Villain, and hasA prefer'd Death to a base Action,[122]
has been a Gainer by the bargain.
S E C T I O N I V
'
TIS well for you (my Friend!) that in your Education you have
had little to do with the *Philosophy, or Philosophers of our
days. A good Poet, and an honest Historian, may afford Learning
* Our Author, it seems, writes at present as to a young Gentleman chiefly of
a Court-Breeding. See, however, his further Sentiments more particularly in Treatise
3. (viz. SOLILOQUY infra, pag. 333, &c. in the Notes.
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 77
Sect. 4.enough for a Gentleman. And such a one, whilst he reads these
Authors as his Diversion, will have a truer relish of their Sense, and
understand 'em better than a Pedant, with all his Labours, and the
assistance of his Volumes of Commentators. I am sensible, that of
old 'twas the custom to send the Youth of highest Quality to Philosophers
to be form'd. 'Twas in their Schools, in their Company,
and by their Precepts and Example, that the illustrious Pupils were
inur'd to Hardship, and exercis'd in the severest Courses of Temperance
and Self-denial. By such an early Discipline, they were
fitted for the Command of others; to maintain their Country's
Honour in War, rule wisely in the State, and fight against Luxury
and Corruption in times of Prosperity and Peace. If any ofA [123]
these Arts are comprehended in University-Learning, 'tis well. But
as some Universitys in the World are now modeľd, they seem not
so very effectual to these Purposes, nor so fortunate in preparing
for a right Practice of the World, or a just Knowledg of Men and
Things. Had you been thorow-pac'd in the Ethicks or Politicks of
the Schools, I shou'd never have thought of writing a word to you
upon Common Sense, or the Love of Mankind. I shou'd not have
cited *the Poeťs Dulce & Decorum. Nor, if I had made a Character
for you, as he for his noble Friend, shou'd I have crown'd it with his
He fears not to die for his dear friends and fatherland.
Our Philosophy now-a-days runs after the manner of that able
Sophister, who said, ``Skin for Skin: All that a Man has will he give
for his Life.'' 'Tis orthodox Divinity, as well as sound Philosophy,
with some Men, to rate Life by the Number and Exquisiteness of
the pleasing Sensations. These they constantly set in opposition to
dry Virtue and Honesty. And upon this foot, they think it proper
to call all Men Fools, who wou'd hazard a Life, or part with any of
these pleasing Sensations;Aexcept on the condition of being repaid [124]
* Sup. pag. 102.
 Non ille pro caris Amicis,
Aut Patriâ timidus perire.
Hor. Lib. 4. Od. 9.
 Job, ch. ii. ver. 4.
78 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 4. in the same Coin, and with good Interest into the bargain. Thus,
it seems, we are to learn Virtue by Usury; and inhance the Value
of Life, and of the Pleasures of Sense, in order to be wise, and to
live well.
But you (my Friend!) are stubborn in this Point: and instead
of being brought to think mournfully of Death, or to repine at
the Loss of what you may sometimes hazard by your Honesty, you
can laugh at such Maxims as these; and divert your-self with the
improv'd Selfishness, and philosophical Cowardice of these fashionable
Moralists.You will not be taught to value Life at their rate,
or degrade HONESTY as they do, who make it only a Name. You
are persuaded there is something more in the Thing than Fashion
or Applause; that WORTH and MERIT are substantial, and no way
variable by Fancy or Will; and that HONOUR is as much it-self,
when acting by it-self, and unseen, as when seen, and applauded by
all the World.
Shou'd one, who had the Countenance of a Gentleman, ask me
``Why I wou'd avoid being nasty, when nobody was present?'' In
the first place I shou'd be fully satisfy'd that he himself was a very
nasty Gentleman who cou'd ask this Question; and that it wou'd beA[125]
a hard matter for me to make him ever conceive what true Cleanliness
was. However, I might, notwithstanding this, be contented to
give him a slight Answer, and say, `` 'Twas because I had a Nose.''
Shou'd he trouble me further, and ask again, ``What if I had
a Cold? Or what if naturally I had no such nice Smell?'' I might
answer perhaps, ``That I car'd as little to see my-self nasty, as that
others shou'd see me in that condition.'' ``But what if it were in
the dark?'' Why even then, tho I had neither Nose, nor Eyes, my
Sense of the matter wou'd still be the same; my Nature wou'd rise
at the Thought of what was sordid: or if it did not, I shou'd have a
wretched Nature indeed, and hate my-self for a Beast. Honour myself
I never cou'd; whilst I had no better a sense of what, in reality,
I ow'd my-self, and what became me, as a human Creature.
Much in the same manner have I heard it ask'd, ``Why shou'd
a Man be honest in the dark?'' What a Man must be to ask this
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 79
Sect. 4.Question, I won't say. But for those who have no better a Reason
for being honest than the fear of a Gibbet or a Jail; I shou'd not, I
confess, much covet their Company, or Acquaintance. And if any
Guardian of mine who had keptAhis Trust, and given me back my [126]
Estatewhen I came of Age, had been discover'd to have acted thus,
thro' Fear only of what might happen to him; I shou'd for my own
part, undoubtedly, continue civil and respectful to him: but for
my Opinion of his Worth, it wou'd be such as the PYTHIAN God
had of his Votary, who devoutly fear'd him, and therefore restor'd
to a Friend what had been deposited in his hands.
*So he paid it back, from fear, not from principle. Yet still he
proved the oracle true and fit to be Goďs voice, for he and
his house perished root and branch.
I know very well that many Services to the Publick are done
merely for the sake of a Gratuity; and that Informers in particular
are to be taken care of, and sometimes made Pensioners of State. But
I must beg pardon for the particular Thoughts I may have of these
Gentlemens Merit; and shall never bestow my Esteem on anyother
than the voluntary Discoverers of Villany, and hearty Prosecutors
of their Country's Interest. And in this respect, I know nothing
greateror nobler than the undertaking and managing some impor-A [127]
tant Accusation; by which some high Criminal of State, or some
form'd Body of Conspirators against the Publick, may be arraign'd
and brought to Punishment, thro' the honest Zeal and publick
Affection of a private Man.
I know too, that the mere Vulgar of Mankind often stand in
need of such a rectifying Object as the Gallows before their Eyes.
Yet I have no belief, that any Man of a liberal Education, or common
Honesty, ever needed to have recourse to this Idea in his
* Reddidit ergo metu, non moribus; & tamen omnem
Vocem adyti dignam templo, veramque probavit,
Extinctus totâ pariter cum prole domoque.
Juv. Sat. 13.
80 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 1. Mind, the better to restrain him from playing the Knave. And if
A SAINT had no other Virtue than what was rais'd in him by the
same Objects of Reward and Punishment, in a more distant State;
I know not whose Love or Esteem he might gain besides: but for
my own part, I shou'd never think him worthy of mine.
If my slave tells me, ``I have not stolen, nor run away,'' I
answer, ``You have your reward, you are not flogged.'' ``I have
not killed a man!'' ``The crows do not devour you on the
cross.'' ``I am good and honest!'' My Sabine bailiff shakes his
head and denies it.A1[128]
PART IV
S E C T I O N I
BY this time (my Friend!) you may possibly, I hope, be satisfy'd,
that as I am in earnest in defending Raillery, so I can be sober
too in the Use of it. 'Tis in reality a serious Study, to learn to
temper and regulate that Humour which Nature has given us, as a
more lenitive Remedy against Vice, and a kind of Specifick against
Superstition and melancholy Delusion. There is a great difference
between seeking how to raise a Laugh from every thing; and seeking,
in every thing, what justly may be laugh'd at. For nothing is
ridiculous except what is deform'd: Nor is any thing proof against
Raillery, except what is handsom and just. And therefore 'tis the
hardest thing in the World, to deny fair HONESTY the use of this
Weapon, which can never bear an Edge against her-self, and bears
against every thing contrary.A[129]
1 Nec furtum feci, nec fugi, si mihi dicat
Servus: Habes pretium, loris non ureris, aio.
Non hominem occidi: Non pasces in cruce corvos.
Sum bonus & frugi: Renuit, negat atque Sabellus.
Hor. Epist. 16.
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 81
Sect. 1.If the very Italian Buffoons were to give us the Rule in these
cases, we shou'd learn by them, that in their lowest and most scurrilous
way of Wit, there was nothing so successfully to be play'd
upon, as the Passions of Cowardice and Avarice. One may defy the
World to turn real Bravery or Generosity into Ridicule. A Glutton
or mere Sensualist is as ridiculous as the other two Characters. Nor
can an unaffected Temperance be made the Subject of Contempt
to any besides the grossest and most contemptible of Mankind.
Now these three Ingredients make up a virtuous Character: as the
contrary three a vicious one. How therefore can we possibly make
a Jest of Honesty?--To laugh both ways, is nonsensical. And if the
Ridicule lie against Sottishness, Avarice, and Cowardice; you see the
Consequence. A Man must be soundly ridiculous, who, with all
the Wit imaginable, wou'd go about to ridicule Wisdom, or laugh
at Honesty, or Good Manners.
A Man of thorow *Good-Breeding, whatever else he be, is incapable
of doing a rude or brutal Action. He never deliberates in
this case, or considers of the matter by prudential Rules of SelfInterest
and Advantage. He acts from his Nature, in a manner
necessarily, and withAout Reflection: and if he did not, it were im- [130]
possible for him to answer his Character, or be found that truly
well-bred Man, on every occasion. 'Tis the same with the honest
Man. He can't deliberate in the Case of a plain Villany. A Plum
is no Temptation to him. He likes and loves himself too well, to
change Hearts with one of those corrupt Miscreants,who amongst
'em gave that name to a round Sum of Mony gain'd by Rapine
and Plunder of the Commonwealth. He who wou'd enjoy a Freedom
of Mind, and be truly Possessor of himself, must be above the
thought of stooping to what is villanous or base. He, on the other
side, who has a Heart to stoop, must necessarily quit the thought
of Manliness, Resolution, Friendship, Merit, and a Character with
himself and others: But to affect these Enjoyments and Advantages,
together with the Privileges of a licentious Principle; to pretend to
enjoy Society, and a free Mind, in company with a knavish Heart,
* VOL. III. p. 161, 162.
82 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 1. is as ridiculous as the way of Children, who eat their Cake, and
afterwards cry for it.When Men begin to deliberate about Dishonesty,
and finding it go less against their Stomach, ask slily, ``Why
they shou'd stick at a good Piece of Knavery, for a good Sum?''
They shou'd be told, as Children, that They can't eat their Cake,
and have it.A[131]
When Men, indeed, are become accomplish'd Knaves, they are
past crying for their Cake. They know themselves, and are known by
Mankind. 'Tis not these who are so much envy'd or admir'd. The
moderate Kind are the more taking with us. Yet had we Sense, we
should consider 'tis in reality the thorow profligate Knave, the very
compleat unnatural Villain alone, who can any way bid for Happiness
with the honest Man. True Interest is wholly on one side,
or the other. All between is *Inconsistency, Irresolution, Remorse,
Vexation, and an Ague-Fit: from hot to cold; from one Passion to
another quite contrary; a perpetual Discord of Life; and an alternate
Disquiet and Self-dislike. The only Rest or Repose must be
thro' one, determin'd, considerate Resolution: which when once
taken, must be courageously kept; and the Passions and Affections
brought under obedience to it; the Temper steeľd and harden'd
to the Mind; the Disposition to the Judgment. Both must agree;
else all must be Disturbance and Confusion. So that to think with
one's self, in good earnest, ``Why may notAone do this little Villany,[132]
or commit this one Treachery, and but for once''; is the most ridiculous
Imagination in the world, and contrary to COMMON SENSE.
For a common honest Man, whilst left to himself, and undisturb'd
by Philosophy and subtle Reasonings about his Interest, gives no
* Our Author's French Translator cites, on this occasion, very aptly those Verses
of HORACE, Sat. 7. Lib. 2.
Quanto constantior idem
In vitiis, tanto levis miser, ac prior illo
Qui jam contento, jam laxo fune laborat.
[At any rate he was so much the more consistent in vice, and so far less miserable
than that other, who pulls now on a loose and now on a tight cord.]
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 83
Sect. 1.other Answer to the thought of Villany, than that he can't possibly
find in his heart to set about it, or conquer the natural Aversion he
has to it. And this is natural and just.
The truth is; as Notions stand now in the world, with respect to
Morals, Honesty is like to gain little by Philosophy, or deep Speculations
of any kind. In the main, 'tis best to stick to Common Sense,
and go no further. Mens first Thoughts, in this matter, are generally
better than their second: their natural Notions better than
those refin'd by Study, or Consultation with Casuists. According
to common Speech, as well as common Sense, Honesty is the best
Policy: But according to refin'd Sense, the only well-advis'd Persons,
as to this World, are errant Knaves; and they alone are thought to
serve themselves, who serve their Passions, and indulge their loosest
Appetites and Desires.--Such, it seems, are the Wise, and such
the Wisdom of this World! A [133]
An ordinary Man talking of a vile Action, in a way of Common
Sense, says naturally and heartily, ``He wou'd not be guilty of
such a thing for the whole World.'' But speculative Men find great
Modifications in the case; many ways of Evasion; many Remedys;
many Alleviations. A good Gift rightly apply'd; a right Method of
suing out a Pardon; good Alms-Houses, and charitable Foundations
erected for right Worshippers; and a good Zeal shewn for the
right Belief, may sufficiently atone for one wrong Practice; especially
when it is such as raises a Man to a considerable power (as they
say) of doing good, and serving the true Cause.
Many a good Estate, many a high Station has been gain'd upon
such a bottom as this. Some Crowns too may have been purchas'd
on these terms: and some great *Emperors (if I mistake not) there
have been of old, who were much assisted by these or the like Principles;
and in return were not ingrateful to the Cause and Party
which had assisted 'em. The Forgers of such Morals have been
amplyendow'd: and theWorld has paid roundly for its Philosophy;
since the original plain Principles of Humanity, and the simple
* VOL. III. p. 78, 79, 90, 91.
84 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 2. honestA Precepts of Peace and mutual Love, have, by a sort of spiritual
Chymists, been so sublimated, as to become the highest Cor-[134]
rosives; and passing thro' their Limbecks, have yielded the strongest
Spirit of mutual Hatred and malignant Persecution.
S E C T I O N I I
BUT our Humours (my Friend!) incline us not to melancholy
Reflections. Let the solemn Reprovers of Vice proceed in the
manner most sutable to their Genius and Character. I am ready
to congratulate with 'em on the Success of their Labours, in that
authoritative way which is allow'd 'em. I know not, in the mean
while, why others may not be allow'd to ridicule Folly, and recommend
Wisdom and Virtue (if possibly they can) in a way of Pleasantry
and Mirth. I know not why Poets, or such as write chiefly for
the Entertainment of themselves and others, may not be allow'd
this Privilege. And if it be the Complaint of our standing Reformers,
that they are not heard so well by the Gentlemen of Fashion; if they
exclaim against those airy Wits who fly to Ridicule as a Protection,
and make successful Sallys from that Quarter; why shou'd it be
deny'd one, who is only a Volunteer in this Cause, to engage the
Adversary on his own terms, and exposeA himself willingly to such[135]
Attacks, on the single condition of being allow'd fair Play in the
same kind?
By Gentlemen of Fashion, I understand those to whom a natural
good Genius, or the Force of good Education, has given a Sense
of what is naturally graceful and becoming. Some by mere Nature,
others by Art and Practice, are Masters of an Ear in Musick, an
Eye in Painting, a Fancy in the ordinary things of Ornament and
Grace, a Judgment in Proportions of all kinds, and a general good
Taste in most of those Subjects which make the Amusement and
Delight of the ingenious People of the World. Let such Gentlemen
as these be as extravagant as they please,oras irregular in their
Morals; they must at the same time discover their Inconsistency,
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 85
Sect. 2.live at variance with themselves, and in contradiction to that Principle,
on which they ground their highest Pleasure and Entertain-
ment.
Of all other Beautys which Virtuosos pursue, Poets celebrate,
Musicians sing, and Architects or Artists, of whatever kind, describe
or form; the most delightful, the most engaging and pathetick, is
that which is drawn from real Life, and from the Passions. Nothing
affects the Heart like that which is purely from it-self, and of its
own nature; such as the Beauty of Sentiments,A the Grace of Actions, [136]
the Turn of Characters, and the Proportions and Features of a human
Mind. This Lesson of Philosophy, even a Romance, a Poem, or a
Play may teach us; whilst the fabulous Author leads us with such
pleasure thro' the Labyrinth of the Affections, and interests us,
whether we will or no, in the Passions of his Heroes and Heroines:
*Like a Mage, he tortures, enrages, soothes, fills us with false
terrors.
Let Poets, or the Men of Harmony, deny, if they can, this Force
of Nature, or withstand this moral Magick. They, for their parts,
carry a double portion of this Charm about 'em. For in the first
place, the very Passion which inspires 'em, is it-self the Love of
Numbers, Decency and Proportion; and this too, not in a narrow
sense, or after a selfish way, (for who of them composes for himself?)
but in a friendly social View; for the Pleasure and Good of
others; even down to Posterity, and future Ages. And in the next
place, 'tis evident in these Performers, that their chief Theme and
Subject, that which raises their Genius the most, and by which
they so effectually move others, is purely Manners, and the moral
Part. For this is theA Effect, and this the Beauty of their Art; ``in [137]
vocal Measures of Syllables, and Sounds, to express the Harmony
* Angit,
Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet,
Ut Magus.
Hor. Epist. 1. lib. 2.
86 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 2. and Numbers of an inward kind; and represent the Beautys of
a human Soul, by proper Foils, and Contrarietys, which serve as
Graces in this Limning, and render this Musick of the Passions
more powerful and enchanting.''
The Admirers of Beauty in the Fair Sex wou'd laugh, perhaps, to
hear of a moral Part in their Amours.Yet, what a stir is made about
a Heart! What curious search of Sentiments, and tender Thoughts!
What praises of a Humour, a Sense, a je-ne-sçai-quoi of Wit, and all
those Graces of a Mind which theseVirtuoso-Lovers delight to celebrate!
Let them settle this matter among themselves; and regulate,
as they think fit, the Proportions which these different Beautys
hold one to another: They must allow still, there is a Beauty of
the Mind; and such as is essential in the Case.Why else is the very
Air of Foolishness enough to cloy a Lover, at first sight? Why does
an Idiot-Look and Manner destroy the Effect of all those outward
Charms, and rob the Fair-One of her Power; tho regularly arm'd,
in all the Exactness of Features and Complexion? We may imagine
what we please of a substantial solid part of Beauty: but were
theASubject to be well criticiz'd, we shou'd find, perhaps, that what[138]
we most admir'd, even in the turn of outward Features, was only a
mysterious Expression, and a kind of Shadowof something inward
in theTemper: and that when wewere struck with a majestick Air, a
sprightly Look, an Amazon bold Grace, or a contrary soft and gentle
one; 'twas chiefly the Fancy of these Characters or Qualitys which
wrought on us: our Imagination being busy'd in forming beauteous
Shapes and Images of this rational kind, which entertain'd the
Mind, and held it in admiration; whilst other Passions of a lower
Species were employ'd another way. The preliminary Addresses,
the Declarations, the Explanations, Confidences, Clearings; the
Dependence on something mutual, something felt by way of return;
the Spes animi credula mutui: all these become necessary Ingredients
in the Affair of Love, and are authentically establish'd by
the Men of Elegance and Art in this way of Passion.
Nor can the Men of cooler Passions, and more deliberate Pursuits,withstand
the Force of Beauty, in other Subjects. Every-one is
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 87
Sect. 2.a Virtuoso, of a higheror lowerdegree: Every-one pursues a GRACE,
and courts a *VENUS of one kind or another. The Venustum, the
Honestum, theA Decorum of Things, will force its way. They who [139]
refuse to give it scope in the nobler Subjects of a rational and moral
kind, will find its Prevalency elsewhere, in an inferior Order of
Things. They who overlook the main Springs of Action, and despise
the Thought of Numbers and Proportion in a Life at large,
will in the mean Particulars of it, be no less taken up, and engag'd;
as either in the Study of common Arts, or in the Care and Culture
of mere mechanick Beautys. The Models of Houses, Buildings,
and their accompanying Ornaments; the Plans of Gardens, and
their Compartments; the ordering of Walks, Plantations, Avenues;
and a thousand other Symmetrys, will succeed in the room of that
happier and higher Symmetry and Order of a Mind. The Species
of Fair, Noble, Handsom, will discover it-self on a thousand Occasions,
and in a thousand Subjects. The Specter still will haunt us,
in some shape or other: and when driven from our cool Thoughts,
and frighted from the Closet, will meet us even at Court, and fill
our Heads with Dreams of Grandure, Titles, Honours, and a false
Magnificence and Beauty; to which we are ready to sacrifice our
highest Pleasure and Ease; and for the sake of which, we become
the merest Drudges, and most abject Slaves.A [140]
The Men of Pleasure, who seem the greatest Contemners of
this philosophical Beauty, are forc'd often to confess her Charms.
They can as heartily as others commend Honesty; and are as much
struck with the Beauty of a generous Part. They admire the Thing
it-self, tho not the Means. And, if possible, they wou'd so order it,
as to make Probity and Luxury agree. But the Rules of Harmony
will not permit it. The Dissonancys are too strong. However, the
Attempts of this kind are not unpleasant to observe. For tho some
of the voluptuous are found sordid Pleaders for Baseness and Cor*
Infra, pag. 337.
 VOL. III. p. 173.
 VOL. III. p. 33. 182­186.
88 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 2. ruption of every sort: yet others, more generous, endeavour to keep
measures with Honesty; and understanding Pleasure better, are for
bringing it under some Rule. They condemn this manner: they
praise the other. ``So far was right: but further, wrong. Such a Case
was allowable: but such a one not to be admitted.'' They introduce
a Justice, and an Order in their Pleasures. They wou'd bring Reason
to be of their Party, account in some manner for their Lives, and
form themselves to some kind of Consonancy, and Agreement: Or
shou'd they find this impracticable on certain terms, they wou'd
chuse to sacrifice their own Pleasures to those which arise from a
generous Behaviour, a ReguAlarity of Conduct, and a Consistency[141]
of Life and Manners:
*To learn the measures and rules of the true life.
Other Occasions will put us upon this Thought: but chiefly a
strong View of Merit, in a generous Character, oppos'd to some detestably
vile one. Hence it is that among Poets, the Satirists seldom
fail in doing Justice to VIRTUE. Nor are any of the nobler
Poets false to this Cause. Even modern Wits, whose Turn is all
towards Gallantry and Pleasure, when bare-fac'd Villany stands in
their way, and brings the contrary Species in view, can sing in passionate
strains the Praises of plain Honesty.
When we are highly Friends with the World, successful with
the Fair, and prosperous in the possession of other Beautys; we
may perchance, as is usual, despise this sober Mistress. But when
we see, in the issue, what Riot and Excess naturally produce in the
World; when we find that by Luxury's means, and for the service
of vile Interests, Knaves are advanc'd above us, and the vilest of
Men prefer'd before the honestest; we then behold VIRTUE in a
new Light, and by the assistance of Asuch a Foil, can discern the[142]
Beauty of Honesty, and the reality of those Charms, which before
we understood not to be either natural or powerful.
* Et verae numerosque modosque ediscere vitae.
Hor. Epist. 2. lib. 2.
 VOL. III. p. 308, 309.
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 89
Sect. 3.S E C T I O N I I I
AND thus, after all, the most natural Beauty in the World is
Honesty, and moral Truth. For all Beauty is TRUTH. True Features
make the Beauty of a Face; and true Proportions the Beauty
of Architecture; as true Measures that of Harmony and Musick. In
Poetry,which is all Fable, Truth still is the Perfection. And whoever
is Scholar enough to read the antient Philosopher, or his *modern
Copists, upon the nature of a Dramatick and Epick Poem, will
easily understand this account of Truth.
A Painter, if he has any Genius, understands the Truth and
Unity of Design; and knows he is even then unnatural, when he
follows Nature too close, and strictly copys Life. For his Art allows
him not to bring All Nature into hisA Piece, but a Part only. How- [143]
ever, his Piece, if it be beautiful, and carrys Truth, must be aWhole,
by it-self, compleat, independent, and withal as great and comprehensive
as he can make it. So that Particulars, on this occasion,
must yield to the general Design; and all things be subservient to
that which is principal: in order to form a certain Easiness of Sight;
a simple, clear, and united View, which wou'd be broken and disturb'd
by the Expression of any thing peculiar or distinct.A [144]
* The French Translator, no doubt, has justly hit our Author's Thought, by naming
in his Margin the excellent BOSSU du Poeme Epique; who in that admirable
Comment and Explanation of ARISTOTLE, has perhaps not only shewn himself
the greatest of the French Criticks, but presented the World with a View of antient
Literature and just Writing, beyond any other Modern of whatever Nation.
 VOL. III. p. 180, 181, 182, 183, 260, &c.
 The   [What is easily taken in at a glance]; as the great Master of
Arts calls it, in his Poeticks, ch. 23. but particularly ch. 7. where he shews, ``That the
 , the Beautiful, or the Sublime, in these above-mention'd Arts, is from the
Expression of Greatness with Order: that is to say, exhibiting the Principal or Main
of what is design'd, in the very largest Proportions in which it is capable of being
view'd. For when it is gigantick, 'tis in a manner out of sight, and can be no way
comprehended in that simple and united View. As, on the contrary, when a Piece is
of the Miniature-kind; when it runs into the Detail, and nice Delineation of every
little Particular; 'tis, as it were, invisible, for the same reason; because the summary
Beauty, the WHOLE it-self, cannot be comprehended in that ONE united View;
which is broken and lost by the necessary attraction of the Eye to every small and
subordinate Part. In a poetick System, the same regard must be had to the Memory,
90 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 3. Now the Variety of Nature is such as to distinguish every thing
she forms, by a peculiar original Character; which, if strictly observ'd,
will make the Subject appear unlike to any thing extant in
the World besides. But this Effect the good Poet and Painter seek
industriously to prevent. They hate Minuteness, and are afraid of
Singularity; which wou'd make their Images, or Characters, appear
capricious and fantastical.The mere Face-Painter, indeed, has little
in common with the Poet; but, like the mere Historian,Acopys what[145]
he sees, and minutely traces every Feature, and odd Mark. 'Tis
otherwise with the Men of Invention and Design. 'Tis from the
many Objects of Nature, and not from a particular-one, that those
Genius's form the Idea of theirWork.Thus the best Artists are said
to have been indefatigable in studying the best Statues: as esteeming
them a better Rule, than the perfectest human Bodys cou'd
as in Painting to the Eye.The Dramatick kind is confin'd within the convenient and
proper time of a Spectacle. The Epick is left more at large. Each Work, however,
must aim at Vastness, and be as great, and of as long duration as possible; but so
as to be comprehended, as to the main of it, by one easy Glance or Retrospect of
Memory. And this the Philosopher calls, accordingly, the   [the
Beautiful].'' I cannot better translate the Passage than as I have done in these explanatory
Lines. For besides what relates to mere Art, the philosophical Sense of the
Original is so majestick, and the whole Treatise so masterly, that when I find even
the Latin Interpreters come so short, I shou'd be vain to attempt any thing in our
own Language. I wou'd only add a small Remark of my own, which may perhaps
be notic'd by the Studiers of Statuary and Painting: That the greatest of the antient
as well as modern Artists, were ever inclin'd to follow this Rule of the Philosopher;
and when they err'd in their Designs, or Draughts, it was on the side of Greatness, by
running into the unsizable and gigantick, rather than into the minute and delicate.
Of this, MICH. ANGELO, the great Beginner and Founder among the Moderns,
and ZEUXIS the same among the Antients, may serve as Instances. See PLINY, lib.
35. cap. 9. concerning ZEUXIS, and the Notes of Father HARDUIN in his Edition in
usum Delphini, p. 200. on the words, Deprehenditur tamen Zeuxis, &c. And again
PLINY himself upon EUPHRANOR, in the same Book, cap. 11. p. 226. Docilis, ac
laboriosus, ante omnes, & in quocumque genere excellens, ac sibi aequalis. Hic primus
videtur expressisse Dignitates Heroum, & usurpâsse Symmetriam. Sed fuit universitate
corporum exilior, capitibus articulisque grandior.Volumina quoque composuit de Symmetria
& Coloribus, &c. Vid. infra, p. 340, 341, 342. in the Notes. [A good learner
and painstaking, uniformly excellent in every branch. He is thought to have first
done justice to the majesty of heroes and first mastered proportion, but his bodies
were over-slender, his heads and limbs over-large. He wrote too on proportion and
colouring.]
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 91
Sect. 3.afford. And thus some *considerable Wits have recommended the
best Poems, as preferable to the best of Historys; and better teaching
the Truth of Characters, and Nature of Mankind.
Nor can this Criticism be thought high-strain'd. Tho few confine
themselves to these Rules, few are insensible of 'em.Whatever
quarter we may give to our vicious Poets, or other Composers of
irregular and short-liv'd Works; we know very well that the standing
Pieces of good Artists must be form'd after a more uniform
way. Every just Work of theirs comes under those natural Rules
of Proportion and Truth. The Creature of their Brain must be like
one of Nature's Formation. It must have a Body and PartsApropor- [146]
tionable: or the veryVulgar will not fail to criticize theWork, when
it has neither Head nor Tail. For so Common Sense, according to
just Philosophy, judges of those Works which want the Justness
of a Whole, and shew their Author, however curious and exact in
Particulars, to be in the main a very Bungler.
Unhappy in the sum total of his work because he will be unable
to explain the whole.
Such is poetical, and such (if I may so call it) graphical or plastick
Truth. Narrative, or historical Truth, must needs be highly estimable;
especially when we consider how Mankind, who are become
so deeply interested in the Subject, have suffer'd by the want of
Clearness in it. 'Tis it-self a part of moral Truth. To be a Judg in
one, requires a Judgment in the other. The Morals, the Character,
and Genius of an Author must be thorowly consider'd: And the
Historian or Relaterof Things important to Mankind, must,who*
Thus the great Master himself in his Poeticks, above cited:   -
           
,       . [Poetry is both a more philosophic
and a more real (weightier) thing than history; for poetry tells rather the universal,
history the particular. --Aristotle, Poetics chap. 9, 1451b.]
 VOL. III. p. 25, 259, 260.
 Infelix operis SUMMA, quia ponere TOTUM
Nescit.
Hor. Epist.3. lib. 3.
92 AN ESSAY ON THE FREEDOM
Sect. 3. ever he be, approve himself many ways to us; both in respect of
his Judgment, Candor, and Disinterestedness; e'er we are bound
to take any thing on his Authority. And as for *critical Truth, or
the Judgment andADetermination of what Commentators, Trans-[147]
lators, Paraphrasts, Grammarians, and others have, on this occasion,
deliver'd to us; in the midst of such variety of Style, such
different Readings, such Interpolations, and Corruptions in the
Originals; such Mistakes of Copists, Transcribers, Editors, and a
hundred such Accidents, to which antient Books are subject: it becomes,
upon the whole, a Matter of nice Speculation; considering,
withal, that the Reader, tho an able Linguist, must be supported
by so many other Helps from Chronology, natural Philosophy,
Geography, and other Sciences.
And thus many previous Truths are to be examin'd, and understood,
in order to judg rightly of historical Truth, and of the past
Actions and Circumstances of Mankind, as deliver'd to us by antient
Authors of different Nations, Ages, Times, and different in
their Characters and Interests. Some moral and philosophical Truths
there are withal so evident in themselves, that 'twou'd be easier
to imagine half Mankind to have run mad, and join'd precisely
in one and the same Species of Folly, than to admit any thing as
Truth, which shou'd be advanc'd against such natural Knowledg,
fundamental Reason, and common Sense.A[148]
This I have mention'd the rather, because some modern Zealots
appear to have no better knowledg of TRUTH, nor better manner
of judging it, than by counting Noses. By this Rule, if they can
poll an indifferent Number out of a Mob; if they can produce a Set
of Lancashire Noddles, remote provincial Head-pieces, or visionary
Assemblers, to attest a Story of a Witch upon a Broomstick, and
a Flight in the Air; they triumph in the solid Proof of their new
Prodigy, and cry, Great is truth and it will prevail.2
Religion, no doubt, is much indebted to these Men of Prodigy;
* VOL. III. p. 316, 320, 321. &c.
2 Magna est Veritas & praevalebit!
OF WIT AND HUMOUR 93
Sect. 3.who, in such a discerning Age, wou'd set her on the foot of popular
Tradition; and venture her on the same bottom with Parish-Tales,
and gossiping Storys of Imps, Goblins, and Demoniacal Pranks, invented
to fright Children, or make Practice for common Exorcists,
and Cunning-Men! For by that Name, you know, Country People
are us'd to call those Dealers in Mystery, who are thought to conjure
in an honest way, and foil the Devil at his own Weapon.
And now (my Friend!) I can perceive 'tis time to put an end
to these Reflections; left by endeavouring to expoundAthings any [149]
further, I shou'd be drawn from my way of Humour, to harangue
profoundly on these Subjects. But shou'd you find I had moraliz'd
in any tolerable manner, according to Common Sense, and without
Canting; I cou'd be satisfy'd with my Performance, such as it
is, without fearing what disturbance I might possibly give to some
formal Censors of the Age; whose Discourses and Writings are of
another strain. I have taken the liberty, you see, to laugh, upon
some occasions: And if I have either laugh'd wrong, or been impertinently
serious; I can be content to be laugh'd at, in my turn. If
contrariwise I am raiľd at, I can laugh still, as before; and with fresh
advantage to my Cause. For tho, in reality, there cou'd be nothing
less a laughing matter, than the provok'd Rage, Ill-will, and Fury
of certain zealous Gentlemen, were they arm'd as lately they have
been known; yet as the Magistrate has since taken care to pare their
Talons, there is nothing very terrible in their Encounter. On the
contrary, there is something comical in the case. It brings to one's
mind the Fancy of those Grotesque Figures, and Dragon-Faces,
which are seen often in the Frontispiece, and on the Corner-Stones
of old Buildings.They seem plac'd there, as the Defenders and Supporters
of the Edifice; but with all their Grimace, are as harmless toA [150]
People without, as they are useless to the Building within. Great
Efforts of Anger to little purpose, serve for Pleasantry and Farce.
Exceeding Fierceness, with perfect Inability and Impotence, makes
the highest Ridicule.
I am, Dear Friend,
Affectionately Your's, &c.
TREATISE III
V I Z.
SOLILOQUY:
OR, ADVICE TO
AN AUTHOR.
* nd you need not have looked beyond yourself.
Pers. Sat. 1.
Printed first in the Year M.DCC.X.
*Nec TE quaesiveris extr.
ADVICE, c.
PART I
S E C T I O N I
I
HAVE often thought how ill-natur'd a Maxim it was, which,
on many occasions, I have heard from People of good understanding;
``That, as to what related to private Conduct, Noonewas
ever the better for ADVICE.'' But upon farther Examination,
I have resolv'd with my-self, that the Maxim might be admitted
without any violent prejudice to Mankind. For in the manner AdviceAwas
generally given, there was no reason, I thought, to wonder [154]
it shou'd be so ill receiv'd. Something there was which strangely
inverted the Case, and made the Giver to be the only Gainer. For
by what I cou'd observe in many Occurrences of our Lives, That
which we calľd giving Advice, was properly, taking an occasion to
97
98 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. shew our own Wisdom, at another's expence. On the other side,
to be instructed, or to receive Advice on the terms usually prescrib'd
to us, was little better than tamely to afford another the Occasion
of raising himself a Character from our Defects.
In reality, however able or willing a Man may be to advise, 'tis
no easy matter to make ADVICE a free Gift. For to make a Gift
free indeed, there must be nothing in it which takes from Another,
to add to Our-self. In all other respects, to give, and to dispense,
is Generosity, and Good-will: but to bestow Wisdom, is to gain
a Mastery which can't so easily be allow'd us. Men willingly learn
whatever else is taught 'em. They can bear a Master in Mathematicks,
in Musick, or in any other Science; but not in Understanding
and Good Sense.
'Tis the hardest thing imaginable for an AUTHOR not to appear
assuming in this respect. For all Authors at large are,A in a manner,[155]
profess'd Masters of Understanding to the Age. And for this reason,
in early days, Poets were look'd upon as authentick Sages, for dictating
Rules of Life, and teaching Manners and good Sense. How
they may have lost their Pretension, I can't say. 'Tis their peculiar
Happiness and Advantage, not to be oblig'd to lay their Claim
openly. And if whilst they profess only to please, they secretly advise,
and give Instruction; they may now perhaps, as well as formerly,
be esteem'd, with justice, the best and most honourable
among Authors.
Mean while: ``If dictating and prescribing be of so dangerous a
nature, in other Authors; what must his Case be, who dictates to
Authors themselves?''
To this I answer; That my Pretension is not so much to give Advice,
as to consider of the Way and Manner of advising. My Science,
if it be any, is no better than that of a Language-Master, or a Logician.
For I have taken it strongly into my head, that there is a certain
Knack or Leger-demain in Argument, by which we may safely
proceed to the dangerous part of advising, and make sure of the
good fortune to have our Advice accepted, if it be any thing worth.A[156]
My Proposal is to consider of this Affair, as a Case of SURGERY.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 99
Sect. 1.'Tis Practice, we all allow, which makes a Hand. ``But who, on this
occasion, will be practis'd on? Who will willingly be the first to try
our Hand, and afford us the requisite Experience?'' Here lies the
Difficulty. For supposing we had Hospitals for this sort of Surgery,
and therewere always in readiness certain meek Patients whowou'd
bear any Incisions, and be prob'd or tented at our pleasure; the advantage
no doubt wou'd be considerable in this way of Practice.
Some Insight must needs be obtain'd. In time a Hand too might
be acquir'd; but in all likelihood a very rough-one: which wou'd by
no means serve the purpose of this latter Surgery. For here, a Tenderness
of Hand is principally requisite. No Surgeon will be calľd,
who has not Feeling and Compassion. And where to find a Subject
in which the Operator is likely to preserve the highest Tenderness,
and yet act with the greatest Resolution and Boldness, is certainly a
matter of no slight Consideration.
I am sensible there is in all considerable Projects, at first appearance,
a certain Air of chimerical Fancy and Conceit, which is apt
to render the ProjectorsAsomewhat liable to ridicule. I wou'd there- [157]
fore prepare my Reader against this Prejudice; by assuring him,
that in the Operation propos'd, there is nothing which can justly
excite his Laughter; or if there be, the Laugh perhaps may turn
against him, by his own consent, and with his own concurrence:
Which is a Specimen of that very Art or Science we are about to
illustrate.
Accordingly, if it be objected against the above-mention'd Practice,
and Art of Surgery, ``That we can no-where find such a meek
Patient, with whom we can in reality make bold, and for whom
nevertheless we are sure to preserve the greatest Tenderness and Regarď':
I assert the contrary; and say, for instance, That we have
each of us OUR SELVES to practise on. ``Mere Quibble! (you'll say:)
For who can thus multiply himself into two Persons, and be his
own Subject? Who can properly laugh at himself, or find in his
heart to be either merry or severe on such an occasion?'' Go to the
Poets, and they will present you with many Instances. Nothing is
more common with them, than this sort of SOLILOQUY. A Per-
100 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. son of profound Parts, or perhaps of ordinary Capacity, happens,
on some occasion, to commit a Fault. He is concern'dAfor it. He[158]
comes alone upon the Stage; looks about him, to see if any body
be near; then takes himself to task, without sparing himself in the
least. You wou'd wonder to hear how close he pushes matters, and
how thorowly he carrys on the business of Self-dissection. By virtue
of this SOLILOQUY he becomes two distinct Persons. He is Pupil
and Preceptor. He teaches, and he learns. And in good earnest, had
I nothing else to plead in behalf of the Morals of our modern Dramatick
Poets, I shou'd defend 'em still against their Accusers for
the sake of this very Practice, which they have taken care to keep
up in its full force. For whether the Practice be natural or no, in
respect of common Custom and Usage; I take upon me to assert,
that it is an honest and laudable Practice; and that if already it be
not natural to us, we ought however to make it so, by Study and
Application.
``Are we to go therefore to the Stage for Edification? Must we
learn our Catechism from the Poets? And, like the Players, speak
aloud, what we debate any time with our-selves alone?'' Not absolutely
so, perhaps.Thowhere the harm wou'd be,of spending some
Discourse, and bestowing a little Breath and clear Voice purely
upon our-selves, I can't see. We might peradventure be less noisyA[159]
and more profitable in Company, if at convenient times we discharg'd
some of our articulate Sound, and spoke to ourselves vivâ
voce when alone. For Company is an extreme Provocative to Fancy;
and, like a hot Bed in Gardening, is apt to make our Imaginations
sprout too fast. But by this anticipating Remedy of SOLILOQUY,
we may effectually provide against the Inconvenience.
WE HAVE an account in History of a certain Nation, who seem
to have been extremely apprehensive of the Effects of this Frothiness
or Ventosity in Speech, and were accordingly resolv'd to provide
thorowly against the Evil. They carry'd this Remedy of ours
so far, that it was not only their Custom, but their Religion and
Law, to speak, laugh, use Action, gesticulate, and do all in the same
manner when by themselves, as when they were in Company. If
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 101
Sect. 1.you had stoľn upon 'em unawares at any time, when they had
been alone, you might have found 'em in high Dispute, arguing
with themselves, reproving, counselling, haranguing themselves,
and in the most florid manner accosting their own Persons. In all
likelihood they had been once a People remarkably fluent in Expression,
much pester'd with Orators and Preachers, andAmightily [160]
subject to that Disease which has been since calľd the Leprosy of
Eloquence; till some sage Legislator arose amongst 'em, who when
he cou'd not oppose the Torrent of Words, and stop the Flux of
Speech, by any immediate Application, found means to give a vent
to the loquacious Humour, and broke the force of the Distemper
by eluding it.
Our present Manners, I must own, are not so well calculated for
this Method of SOLILOQUY, as to suffer it to become a national
Practice. 'Tis but a small Portion of this Regimen, which I wou'd
willingly borrow, and apply to private use; especially in the case
of Authors. I am sensible how fatal it might prove to many honourable
Persons, shou'd they acquire such a Habit as this, or offer
to practice such an Art, within reach of any mortal Ear. For 'tis
well known, we are not many of us like that Roman, who wish'd
for Windows to his Breast, that all might be as conspicuous there
as in his House, which for that very reason he had built as open
as was possible. I wou'd therefore advise our Probationer, upon his
first Exercise, to retire into some thick Wood, or rather take the
Point of some high Hill; where, besides the Advantage of looking
about him for Security, he wou'd find the Air perhaps more
rarefy'd, and sutableA to the Perspiration requir'd, especially in the [161]
case of a Poetical Genius.
*The whole band of authors loves a wood and shuns a city.
'Tis remarkable in all great Wits, that they have own'd this Practice
of ours, and generally describ'd themselves as a People liable
to sufficient Ridicule, for their great Loquacity by themselves, and
* Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemus, & fugit urbes.
Hor. Epist. 2. lib. 2.
102 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. their profound Taciturnity in Company. Not only the Poet and
Philosopher, but the Orator himself was wont to have recourse to
our Method. And the Prince of this latter Tribe may be prov'd to
have been a great Frequenterof theWoods and River-Banks; where
he consum'd abundance of his Breath, suffer'd his Fancy to evaporate,
and reduc'd the vehemence both of his Spirit and Voice. If
other Authors find nothing which invites 'em to these Recesses, 'tis
because their Genius is not of force enough: Or tho it be, their
Character, they may imagine, will hardly bear 'em out. For to be
surpriz'd in the odd Actions, Gestures, or Tones, which are proper
to such Asceticks, I must own wou'd be an ill Adventure for a Man
of the World. But with Poets and Philosophers 'tis a known Case:A[162]
*The man is either raving or composing.
Composing and Raving must necessarily, we see, bear a resemblance.
And for those Composers who deal in Systems, and airy
Speculations, they have vulgarly pass'd for a sort of Prose-Poets.
Their secret Practice and Habit has been as frequently noted:
They chew over mumbles with themselves and rabid silences.
Both these sorts are happily indulg'd in this Method of Evacuation.
They are thought to act naturally, and in their proper way,
when they assume these odd Manners. But of other Authors 'tis
expected they shou'd be better bred. They are oblig'd to preserve
a more conversible Habit; which is no small misfortune to 'em.
For if their Meditation and Resvery be obstructed by the fear of
a nonconforming Mein in Conversation, they may happen to be
so much the worse Authors for being finer Gentlemen. Their Fervency
of Imagination may possibly be as strong as either the Philosopher's
or the Poeťs. But being deny'd an equal Benefit of Dis*
Aut insanit Homo, aut versus facit--
Hor. Sat. 7. lib. 2.
 Murmura cm secum & rabiosa silentia rodunt.
Pers. Sat. 3.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 103
Sect. 1.charge, and with-held from the wholesom manner of Relief in
private;A 'tis no wonder if they appear with so much Froth and [163]
Scum in publick.
'Tis observable, that the Writers of MEMOIRS and ESSAYS are
chiefly subject to this frothy Distemper. Nor can it be doubted
that this is the true Reason why these Gentlemen entertain the
World so lavishly with what relates to themselves. For having had
no opportunity of privatelyconversing with themselves,orexercising
their own Genius, so as to make Acquaintance with it, or prove
its Strength; they immediately fall to work in a wrong place, and
exhibit on the Stage of the World that Practice, which they shou'd
have kept to themselves; if they design'd that either they, or the
World, shou'd be the better for their Moralitys. Who indeed can
endure to hear an Empirick talk of his own Constitution, how he
governs and manages it,what Diet agrees best with it, and what his
Practice is with himself? The Proverb, no doubt, is very just, Physician
cure thy-self. Yet methinks one shou'd have but an ill time, to
be present at these bodily Operations. Nor is the Reader in truth
any better entertain'd, when he is oblig'd to assist at the experimental
Discussions of his practising Author, who all the while is
in reality doing no better, than taking his Physick in publick.A [164]
For this reason, I hold it very indecent for any one to publish his
Meditations, Occasional Reflections, SolitaryThoughts, orother such
Exercises as come under the notion of this self-discoursing Practice.
And the modestest Title I can conceive for such Works, wou'd
be that of a certain Author, who calľd them his Cruditys. 'Tis the
Unhappiness of those Wits, who conceive suddenly, but without
being able to go out their full time, that after many Miscarriages
and Abortions, they can bring nothing well-shapen or perfect into
the World. They are not however the less fond of their Off-spring,
which in a manner they beget in publick. For so publick-spirited
they are, that they can never afford themselves the least time to
think in private, for their own particular benefit and use. For this
reason, tho they are often retir'd, they are never by themselves. The
World is ever of the Party. They have their Author-Character in
104 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. view, and are always considering how this or that Thought wou'd
serve to compleat some Set of Contemplations, or furnish out the
Common-Place-Book, from whence these treasur'd Riches are to
flow in plenty on the necessitous World.
But if our Candidates for Authorship happen to be of the sanctify'd
kind; 'tisAnot be imagin'd how much farther still their Charity[165]
is apt to extend. So exceeding great is their Indulgence and Tenderness
for Mankind, that they are unwilling the least Sample of their
devout Exercise shou'd be lost.Tho there are already so many Formularys
and Rituals appointed for this Species of Soliloquy; they
can allow nothing to lie conceaľd, which passes in this religious
Commerce and way of Dialogue between them and their Soul.
These may be term'd a sort of Pseudo-Asceticks, who can have no
real Converse either with themselves, or with Heaven; whilst they
look thus a-squint upon the World, and carry Titles and Editions
along with 'em in their Meditations. And altho the Books of this
sort, by a common Idiom, are calľd good Books; the Authors, for
certain, are a sorry Race: For religious Cruditys are undoubtedly
theworst of any. *A Saint-Authorof all Men least values Politeness.
He scorns to confine that Spirit, in which he writes, to Rules of
Criticism and profane Learning. Nor is he inclin'd in any respect
to play the Critick on himself, or regulate his Style or Language
by the Standard of good Company, and People of the better sort.
He is above the Consideration of thatAwhich in a narrow sense we[166]
call Manners. Nor is he apt to examine any other Faults than those
which he calls Sins: Tho a Sinner against Good-Breeding, and the
Laws of Decency, will no more be esteem'd a good Author, than
will a Sinner against Grammar, good Argument, or good Sense.
And if Moderation and Temper are not of the Party with a Writer;
let his Cause be ever so good, I doubt whether he will be able to
recommend it with great advantage to the World.
On this account, I wou'd principally recommend our Exercise
of Self-Converse to all such Persons as are addicted towrite after the
* VOL. III. p. 239, 240, 241 in the Notes.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 105
Sect. 1.manner of holy Advisers; especially if they lie under an indispensible
Necessity of being Talkers or Haranguers in the same kind.
For to discharge frequently and vehemently in publick, is a great
hindrance to the way of private Exercise; which consists chiefly
in Controul. But where, instead of Controul, Debate or Argument,
the chief Exercise of the Wit consists in uncontroulable
Harangues and Reasonings, which must neither be question'd nor
contradicted; there is great danger, lest the Party, thro' this Habit,
shou'd suffer much by Cruditys, Indigestions, Choler, Bile, and
particularly by a certain Tumour or Flatulency, which renders him
of all Men the least able to apAply the wholesom Regimen of Self- [167]
Practice. 'Tis no wonder if such quaint Practitioners grow to an
enormous Size of Absurdity, whilst they continue in the reverse
of that Practice, by which alone we correct the Redundancy of
Humours, and chasten the Exuberance of Conceit and Fancy.
A remarkable Instance of the want of this sovereign Remedy
may be drawn from our common great Talkers, who engross the
greatest part of the Conversations of the World, and are the forwardest
to speak in publick Assemblys. Many of these have a
sprightly Genius, attended with a mighty Heat and Ebullition of
Fancy. But 'tis a certain Observation in our Science, that they who
are great Talkers in Company, have never been any Talkers by themselves,
nor us'd to these private Discussions of our home Regimen.
For which reason their Froth abounds. Nor can they discharge any
thing without some mixture of it. But when they carry their Attempts
beyond ordinary Discourse, and wou'd rise to the Capacity
of Authors, the Case grows worse with 'em. Their Page can carry
none of the Advantages of their Person. Theycan no-way bring into
Paper those Airs they give themselves in Discourse. The Turns of
Voice and Action, with which they help out many a lame Thought
and incoherent Sentence, must here be laidAaside; and the Speech [168]
taken to pieces, compar'd together, and examin'd from head to
foot. So that unless the Party has been us'd to play the Critick
thorowly upon himself, he will hardly be found proof against the
Criticisms of others. His Thoughts can never appear very correct;
106 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. unless they have been us'd to sound Correction by themselves, and
been well form'd and disciplin'd before they are brought into the
Field. 'Tis the hardest thing in the world to be a good Thinker,
without being a strong Self-Examiner, and thorow-pac'd Dialogist,
in this solitary way.
S E C T I O N I I
BUT to bring our Case a little closer still to Morals. I might perhaps
very justifiably take occasion here to enter into a spacious
Field of Learning, to shew the Antiquity of that Opinion, ``That
we have each of us a Daemon, Genius, Angel, or Guardian-Spirit,
to whom we were strictly join'd, and committed, from our earliest
Dawn of Reason, or Moment of our Birth.'' This Opinion, were it
literally true, might be highly serviceable, no doubt, towards the
Establishment of our System and Doctrine. For it wou'd infallibly
be prov'd a kind of Sacrilege or Impiety to slight the Company of
so Divine a Guest, and in a manner banish himA our Breast, by re-[169]
fusing to enter with him into those secret Conferences, by which
alone he cou'd be enabled to become our Adviser and Guide. But
I shou'd esteem it unfair to proceed upon such an Hypothesis as
this: when the very utmost the wise Antients ever meant by this
Daemon-Companion, I conceive to have been no more than enigmatically
to declare, ``That we had each of us a Patient in our-self;
that we were properly our own Subjects of Practice; and that we
then became due Practitioners,when by virtue of an intimate Recess
we cou'd discover a certain Duplicity of Soul, and divide our-selves
into two Partys.'' One of these, as they suppos'd, wou'd immediatelyapprove
himself a venerable Sage; and with an airof Authority
erect himself our Counsellor and Governor; whilst the other Party,
who had nothing in him besides what was base and servile, wou'd
be contented to follow and obey.
According therefore as this Recess was deep and intimate, and
the Dual Number practically form'd in Us, we were suppos'd to
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 107
Sect. 2.advance in Morals and true Wisdom. This, they thought, was the
only way of composing Matters in our Breast, and establishing that
Subordinacy, which alone cou'd make Us agree with our-selves,
and be of a-piece within. They esteem'dAthis a more religiousWork [170]
than any Prayers, or other Duty in the Temple. And this they advis'd
Us to carry thither, as the best Offering which cou'd be made:
*Duty to God and man well blended in the mind, purity in
the shrine of the heart.
This was, among the Antients, that celebrated Delphick Inscription,
RECOGNIZE YOUR-SELF: which was as much as to say, Divide
your-self, or Be TWO. For if the Division were rightly made, all
within wou'd of course, they thought, be rightly understood, and
prudently manag'd. Such Confidence they had in this Home-Dialect
of SOLILOQUY. For it was accounted the peculiar of Philosophers
and wise Men, to be able to hold themselves in Talk. And it
was their Boast on this account, ``That they were never less alone,
than when by themselves.'' A Knave, they thought, cou'd never be
by himself. Not that his Conscience was always sure of giving him
disturbance; but he had not, they suppos'd, so much Interest with
himself, as to exert this generous Faculty, and raise himself a Companion;
who being fairly admitted into Partnership, wou'd quickly
mend his Partner, and set his Affairs on a right foot.A [171]
One wou'd think, there was nothing easier for us, than to know
ourown Minds, and understand what our main Scope was; what we
plainly drove at, and what we propos'd to our-selves, as our End,
in every Occurrence of our Lives. But our Thoughts have generally
such an obscure implicit Language, that 'tis the hardest thing
in the world to make 'em speak out distinctly. For this reason, the
right Method is to give 'em Voice and Accent. And this, in our default,
is what the Moralists or Philosophers endeavour to do, to our
* Compositum jus, fasque animi, sanctosque recessus
Mentis.
Pers. Sat. 2.
108 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. hand; when, as is usual, they hold us out a kind of vocal LookingGlass,
draw Sound out of our Breast, and instruct us to personate
our-selves, in the plainest manner.
*The prayer which a man utters within and secretly, when he
has prayed aloud for sound mind and credit, is for the speedy
death of a rich uncle.
A certain Air of Pleasantry and Humour, which prevails now-adays
in the fashionable World, gives a Son the assurance to tell a
Father, he has liv'd too long; and a Husband the privilege of talking
of his Second Wife before his First. But let the airy Gentleman,
who makes thus bold with others, retire a-while outAof Company;[172]
and he scarce dares tell himself his Wishes. Much less can he endure
to carry on his Thought, as he necessarily must, if he enters
once thorowly into Himself, and proceeds by Interrogatorys to form
the Home-Acquaintance and Familiarity requir'd. For thus, after
some struggle, we may suppose him to accost himself. ``Tell me
now, my honest Heart! Am I really honest, and of some worth? or
do I only make a fair show, and am intrinsecally no better than a
Rascal? As good a Friend, a Country-man, or a Relation, as I appear
outwardly to the World, or as I wou'd willingly perhaps think
my-self to be; shou'd I not in reality be glad they were hang'd, any
of them, or broke their Necks, who happen'd to stand between Me
and the least portion of an Estate? Why not? since 'tis my Interest.
Shou'd I not be glad therefore to help this matter forwards,
and promote my Interest, if it lay fairly in my power? No doubt;
provided I were sure not to be punish'd for it. And what reason
has the greatest Rogue in Nature for not doing thus? The same
reason, and no other. Am I not then, at the bottom, the same as
he? The same: an arrant Villain; tho perhaps more a Coward, and
not so perfect in myA kind. If Interest therefore points me out this[173]
* Illa sibi introrsum, & sub Lingua immurmurat: ô si
Ebullit Patrui praeclarum funus!
Pers. Sat. 2.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 109
Sect. 2.Road; whither would Humanity and Compassion lead me? Quite
contrary. Why therefore do I cherish such Weaknesses? Why do
I sympathize with others? Why please myself in the Conceit of
Worth and Honour? a Character, a Memory, an Issue, or a Name?
What else are these but Scruples in my way? Wherefore do I thus
bely my own Interest, and by keeping my-self half Knave, approve
myself a thorow Fool?''
This is a Languagewe can by no means endure to hold with ourselves;
whatever Raillery we may use with others.We may defend
Villany, or cry up Folly, before the World: But to appear Fools,
Mad-men, or Varlets, to our-selves; and prove it to our own faces,
that we are really such, is insupportable. For so true a Reverence
has every-one for himself, when he comes clearly to appear before
his close Companion, that he had rather profess the vilest things
of himself in open Company, than hear his Character privately
from his own Mouth. So that we may readily from hence conclude,
That the chief Interest of Ambition, Avarice, Corruption, and every
sly insinuating Vice, is to prevent this Interview and Familiarity of
Discourse which is consequent uponAclose Retirement and inward [174]
Recess. 'Tis the grand Artifice of Villany and Leudness, as well as of
Superstition and Bigotry, to put us upon Terms of greater Distance
and Formality with our-selves, and evade our proving Method of
SOLILOQUY. And for this reason, how specious soever may be the
Instruction and Doctrine of Formalists; their very Manner it-self is
a sufficient Blind, or Remora in thewayof Honestyand good Sense.
I am sensible, that shou'd my Reader be peradventure a Lover,
after the more profound and solemn way of Love, he wou'd be apt
to conclude, that he was no Stranger to our propos'd Method of
Practice; being conscious to himself of having often made vigorous
Excursions into those solitary Regions above-mention'd; where
Soliloquy is upheld with most advantage. He may chance to remember
how he has many times address'd theWoods and Rocks in
audible articulate Sounds, and seemingly expostulated with himself
in such a manner, as if he had really form'd the requisite Distinction,
and had the Power to entertain himself in due form. But
110 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. it is very apparent, that tho all were true we have here suppos'd, it
can no way reach the Case before us. For a passionate Lover, whatever
Solitude he may affect, can never be truly by himAself. His Case[175]
is like the Author's who has begun his Courtship to the Publick,
and is embark'd in an Intrigue which sufficiently amuses, and takes
him out of himself. Whatever he meditates alone, is interrupted
still by the imagin'd Presence of the Mistress he pursues. Not a
Thought, not an Expression, not a Sigh, which is purely for himself.
All is appropriated, and all devoutly tender'd to the Object of
his Passion. Insomuch that there is nothing ever so trivial or accidental
of this kind, which he is not desirous shou'd be witness'd
by the Party, whose Grace and Favour he sollicits.
'Tis the same Reason which keeps the imaginary Saint, or Mystick,
from being capable of this Entertainment. Instead of looking
narrowly into his own Nature and Mind, that he may be no
longer a Mystery to himself, he is taken up with the Contemplation
of other mysterious Natures, which he can never explain or
comprehend. He has the Specters of his Zeal before his Eyes; and
is as familiar with his Modes, Essences, Personages, and Exhibitions
of DEITY, as the Conjurer with his different Forms, Species,
and Orders of GENII or DAEMONS. So that we make no doubt to
assert, that not so much as a recluse Religionist, a Votary, or Hermit,
was ever truly by himself. And thusAsince neither Lover, Author,[176]
Mystick, or Conjurer, (who are the only Claimants) can truly or
justly be entitled to a Share in this Self-entertainment; it remains
that the only Person intitled, is the Man of Sense, the Sage, or Philosopher.
However, since of all other Characters we are generally
the most inclin'd to favour that of a Lover; it may not, we hope,
be impertinent, on this occasion, to recite the Story of an Amour.
A VIRTUOUS young Prince of a heroick Soul, capable of Love
and Friendship, made war upon a Tyrant, who was in every respect
his Reverse. 'Twas the Happiness of our Prince to be as great a
Conqueror by his Clemency and Bounty, as by his Arms and militaryVirtue.
Already he had won over to his Party several Potentates
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 111
Sect. 2.and Princes, who before had been subject to the Tyrant. Among
those who adher'd still to the Enemy, there was a Prince, who
having all the advantage of Person and Merit, had lately been made
happy in the Possession and mutual Love of the most beautiful
Princess in the world. It happen'd that the Occasions of the War
calľd the new-marry'd Prince to a distance from his belov'd Princess.
He left her secure, as he thought, in a strong Castle, far withinA [177]
the Country: but in his absence the Place was taken by surprize,
and the Princess brought a Captive to the Quarters of our heroick
Prince.
There was in the Camp a young Nobleman, Favourite of the
Prince; one who had been educated with him, and was still treated
by him with perfect Familiarity. Him he immediately sent for,
and with strict Injunctions committed the captive Princess to his
charge; resolving she shou'd be treated with that Respect which
was due to her high Rank and Merit. 'Twas the same young Lord,
who had discover'd her disguis'd among the Prisoners, and learnt
her Story; the particulars of which he now related to the Prince. He
spoke in extasy on this occasion; telling the Prince how beautiful
she appear'd, even in the midst of Sorrow; and tho disguis'd under
the meanest Habit, yet how distinguishable, by her Air and Manner,
from every other Beauty of her Sex. But what appear'd strange
to our young Nobleman, was, that the Prince, during this whole
relation, discover'd not the least Intention of seeing the Lady, or
satisfying that Curiosity, which seem'd so natural on such an occasion.
He press'd him; but without success. ``Not see her, Sir!'' (said
he, wonAdring) ``when she is so handsom, beyond what you have [178]
ever seen!''
``For that very reason,'' reply'd the Prince, ``I wou'd the rather
decline the Interview. For shou'd I, upon the bare Report of her
Beauty, be so charm'd as to make the first Visit at this urgent time
of Business; I may upon sight, with better reason, be induc'd perhaps
to visit her when I am more at leisure: and so again and again;
till at last I may have no leisure left for my Affairs.''
``Wou'd you, Sir! persuade me then,'' said the young Nobleman,
112 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. smiling, ``that a fair Face can have such Poweras to force theWill itself,
and constrain a Man in any respect to act contrary to what he
thinks becoming him? Are we to hearken to the Poets in what they
tell us of that Incendiary LOVE, and his irresistible Flames? A real
Flame, we see, burns all alike. But that imaginary one of Beauty
hurts only those who are consenting. It affects no otherwise, than
as we ourselves are pleas'd to allow it. In many Cases we absolutely
command it: as where Relation and Consanguinity are in the nearest
degree. Authority and Law, we see, can master it. ButA 'twou'd[179]
be vain as well as unjust, for any Law to intermeddle or prescribe,
were not the Case voluntary, and our Will entirely free.''
``How comes it then,'' reply'd the Prince, ``that if we are thus
Masters of our Choice, and free at first to admire and love where
we approve, we cannot afterwards as well cease to love whenever
we see cause? This latter Liberty you will hardlydefend. For I doubt
not, you have heard of many, who tho they were us'd to set the
highest value upon Liberty before they lov'd, yet afterwards were
necessitated to serve in the most abject manner: finding themselves
constrain'd and bound by a stronger Chain than any of Iron, or
Adamant.''
``Such Wretches,'' reply'd the Youth, ``I have often heard complain;
who, if you will believe 'em, are wretched indeed, without
Means or Power to help themselves. You may hear 'em in the same
mannercomplain grievouslyof Life it-self. But tho there are Doors
enow to go out of Life, they find it convenient to keep still where
they are. They are the very same Pretenders, who thro' this Plea
of irresistible Necessity make bold with what is another's,A and at-[180]
tempt unlawful Beds. But the Law, I perceive, makes bold with
them in its turn, as with other Invaders of Property. Neither is it
your Custom, Sir, to pardon such Offences. So that Beauty it-self,
you must allow, is innocent and harmless, and can compel no-one
to do any thing amiss.The Debauch'd compel themselves, and unjustly
charge their Guilt on LOVE. They who are honest and just,
can admire and love whatever is beautiful; without offering at anything
beyond what is allow'd. How then is it possible, Sir, that one
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 113
Sect. 2.of your Virtue shou'd be in pain on any such account, or fear such
a Temptation? You see, Sir, I am sound and whole, after having beheld
the Princess. I have convers'd with her; I have admir'd her in
the highest degree: yet am my-self still, and in my Duty; and shall
be ever in the same manner at your command.''
`` 'Tis welľ' (reply'd the Prince): ``keep your-self so. Be ever the
same Man: and look to your Charge carefully, as becomes you. For
it may so happen in the present posture of the War, that this Fair
Captive may stand us in good stead.'' A [181]
With this the young Nobleman departed to execute his Commission:
and immediately took such care of the captive Princess
and her Houshold, that she seem'd as perfectly obey'd, and had
every thing which belong'd to her in as great Splendor now, as in
her Principality, and in the height of Fortune. He found her in
every respect deserving, and saw in her a Generosity of Soul which
was beyond her other Charms. His Study to oblige her, and soften
her Distress, made her in return desirous to express a Gratitude;
which he easily perceiv'd. She shew'd on everyoccasion a real Concern
for his Interest; and when he happen'd to fall ill, she took such
tender care of him her-self, and by her Servants, that he seem'd to
owe his Recovery to her Friendship.
From these Beginnings, insensibly, and by natural degrees (as
may easily be conceiv'd) the Youth fell desperately in love. At first
he offer'd not to make the least mention of his Passion to the Princess.
For he scarce dar'd tell it to himself. But afterwards he grew
bolder. She receiv'd his Declaration with an unaffected Trouble
and Concern, spoke to him as a Friend, to dissuade him as much as
possible from such an extravagant Attempt. But when he talk'd to
herof Force, she immediatelyAsent awayone of her faithful Domes- [182]
ticks to the Prince, to implore his Protection. The Prince receiv'd
the Message with the appearance of more than ordinary Concern:
sent instantly for one of his first Ministers; and bid him go with
that Domestick to the young Nobleman, and let him understand,
``That Force was not to be offer'd to such a Lady; Persuasion he
might use, if he thought fit.''
114 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. The Minister, who was no Friend to the young Nobleman, faiľd
not to aggravate the Message, inveigh'd publickly against him on
this occasion, and to his face reproach'd him as a Traitor and Dishonourer
of his Prince and Nation: with all else which cou'd be
said against him, as guilty of the highest Sacrilege, Perfidiousness,
and Breach of Trust. So that in reality, the Youth look'd upon his
Case as desperate, fell into the deepest Melancholy, and prepar'd
himself for that Fate, which he thought he well deserv'd.
In this Condition the Prince sent to speak with him alone: and
when he saw him in the utmost Confusion, ``I find,'' said he, ``my
Friend, I am now become dreadful to you indeed; since you can
neither see me without Shame, nor imagine me to be without Resentment.
But away with all those Thoughts fromA this time for-[183]
wards. I know how much you have suffer'd on this occasion. I
know the Power of LOVE, and am no otherwise safe my-self, than
by keeping out of the way of Beauty. 'Twas I who was in fault;
'twas I who unhappily match'd you with that unequal Adversary,
and gave you that impracticable Task and hard Adventure, which
no-one yet was ever strong enough to accomplish.''
``In this, Sir,'' reply'd the Youth, ``as in all else, you express that
Goodness which is so natural to you. You have Compassion, and
can allow for human Frailty; but the rest of Mankind will never
cease to upbraid me. Nor shall I ever be forgiven, were I able ever
to forgive my-self. I am reproach'd by my nearest Friends. I must
be odious to all Mankind, wherever I am known. The least Punishment
I can think due to me, is Banishment for ever from your
Presence.''
``Think not of such a thing for ever,'' said the Prince, ``but trust
me: if you retire only for a while, I shall so order it, that you shall
soon return again with the Applause, even of those who are now
your Enemys,when they find what a considerable ServiceyouAshall[184]
have render'd both to them and Me.''
Such a Hint was sufficient to revive the Spirits of our despairing
Youth. He was transported to think, that his Misfortune cou'd be
turn'd any way to the Advantage of his Prince; he enter'd with Joy
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 115
Sect. 2.into the Scheme the Prince had laid for him, and appear'd eager
to depart and execute what was appointed him. ``Can you then,''
said the Prince, ``resolve to quit the charming Princess?''
``O Sir!'' reply'd the Youth, ``well am I now satisfy'd, that I have
in reality within me two distinct separate Souls. This Lesson of Philosophy
I have learnt from that villanous Sophister LOVE. For 'tis
impossible to believe, that having one and the same Soul, it shou'd
be actually both Good and Bad, passionate forVirtue and Vice, desirous
of Contrarys. No.There must of necessity be Two: and when
the Good prevails, 'tis then we act handsomly; when the Ill, then
basely and villanously. Such was my Case. For lately the Ill Soul
was wholly Master. But now the Good prevails, by your assistance;
and I am plainly a new Creature, with quite another Apprehension,
another Reason, another WILL.''A [185]
THUS it may appear how far a Lover by his own natural
Strength may reach the chief Principle of Philosophy, and understand
our Doctrine of Two Persons in one individual Self. Not that
our Courtier, we suppose, was able, of himself, to form this Distinction
justlyand according to Art. Forcou'd he have effected this,
he wou'd have been able to cure himself, without the assistance of
his Prince. However, he was wise enough to see in the issue, that
his Independency and Freedom were mere Glosses, and Resolution
a Nose of Wax. For let WILL be ever so free, Humour and Fancy,
we see, govern it. And these, as free as we suppose 'em, are often
chang'd we know not how, without asking our consent, or giving
us any account. If *Opinion be that which governs, and makes the
change; 'tis it-self as liable to be govern'd, and vary'd in its turn.
And by what I can observe of the World, Fancy and Opinion stand
pretty much upon the same bottom. So that if there be no certain
Inspector or Auditor establish'd within us, to take account of these
Opinions and Fancys in due form, and minutely to animadvert
upon their several Growths and Habits, we are as little like to continue
a Day in the same Will, as a Tree, during a Summer, in the
* Infra, p. 324. And VOL. III. p. 198, 199.
116 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. same Shape,A without the Garďner's Assistance, and the vigorous
Application of the Sheers and Pruning-Knife.[186]
As cruel a Court as the Inquisition appears; there must, it seems,
be full as formidable a one, erected in our-selves; if we wou'd pretend
to that Uniformity of Opinion which is necessary to hold
us to one Will, and preserve us in the same mind, from one day
to another. Philosophy, at this rate, will be thought perhaps little
better than Persecution: And a Supreme Judg in matters of Inclination
and Appetite, must needs go exceedingly against the Heart.
Every pretty Fancy is disturb'd by it: Every Pleasure interrupted
by it. The Course of good Humour will hardly allow it: And the
Pleasantry of Wit almost absolutely rejects it. It appears, besides,
like a kind of Pedantry, to be thus magisterial with our-selves; thus
strict over our Imaginations, and with all the airs of a real Pedagogue
to be sollicitously taken up in the sour Care and Tutorage
of so many boyish Fancys, unlucky Appetites and Desires, which
are perpetually playing truant, and need Correction.
We hope, however, that byour Method of Practice, and the help
of the grand Arcanum, which we have profess'd to reveal, this Regimen
or Discipline of theAFancys may not in the end prove so severe or[187]
mortifying as is imagin'd.We hope also that our Patient (for such
we naturally suppose our Reader) will consider duly with himself,
that what he endures in this Operation is for no inconsiderable
End: since 'tis to gain him a Will, and insure him a certain Resolution;
by which he shall know where to find himself; be sure of
his own Meaning and Design; and as to all his Desires, Opinions,
and Inclinations, be warranted one and the same Person to day as
yesterday, and to morrow as to day.
This, perhaps, will be thought a Miracle by one who well considers
the Nature of Mankind, and the Growth, Variation, and
Inflection of Appetite and Humour. For APPETITE, which is elder
Brother to REASON, being the Lad of stronger growth, is sure, on
every Contest, to take the advantage of drawing all to his own side.
And Will, so highly boasted, is, at best, merely a Top or Foot-Ball
between these Youngsters, who prove very unfortunately match'd;
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 117
Sect. 2.till the youngest, instead of now and then a Kick or Lash bestow'd
to little purpose, forsakes the Ball or Top it-self, and begins to
lay about his elder Brother. 'Tis then that the Scene changes. For
the elder, like an arrant Coward, upon this Treatment, presently
grows civil, and affords the younger as fair Play afterwards as he
can desire.A [188]
And here it is that our Sovereign Remedy and Gymnastick
Method of SOLILOQUY takes its rise: when by a certain powerful
Figure of inward Rhetorick, the Mind apostrophizes its own
FANCYS, raises 'em in their proper Shapes and Personages, and addresses
'em familiarly, without the least Ceremony or Respect.
By this means it will soon happen, that TWO form'd Partys will
erect themselves within. For the Imaginations or Fancys being thus
roundly treated, are forc'd to declare themselves, and take party.
Those on the side of the elder Brother APPETITE, are strangely
subtle and insinuating. They have always the Faculty to speak by
Nods and Winks. By this practice they conceal half their meaning,
and, like modern Politicians, pass fordeeply wise, and adorn themselves
with the finest Pretext and most specious Glosses imaginable;
till being confronted with their Fellows of a plainer Language
and Expression, they are forc'd to quit their mysterious Manner,
and discover themselves mere Sophisters and Impostors, who have
not the least to do with the Party of REASON and good Sense.
Accordingly we might now proceed to exhibit distinctly, and in
due method, the Form and Manner of this Probation, or Exercise,
as it regards all MenA in general. But the Case of Authors, in par- [189]
ticular, being, as we apprehend, the most urgent; we shall apply
our Rule in the first place to these Gentlemen, whom it so highly
imports to know themselves, and understand the natural Strength
and Powers, as well as the Weaknesses of a human Mind. For without
this Understanding, the Historian's Judgment will be very defective;
the Politician's Views very narrow, and chimerical; and the
Poeťs Brain, however stock'd with Fiction, will be but poorly furnish'd;
as in the sequel we shall make appear. Hewho deals in Characters,
must of necessity know his own; or he will know nothing.
118 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. And he who wou'd give the World a profitable Entertainment of
this sort, shou'd be sure to profit, first, by himself. For in this sense,
Wisdom as well as Charity may be honestly said to begin at home.
There is no way of estimating Manners, or apprizing the different
Humours, Fancys, Passions and Apprehensions of others, without
first taking an Inventory of the same kind of Goods within ourselves,
and surveying our domestick Fund. A little of this HomePractice
will serve to make great Discoverys.
Live at home and learn how slenderly furnished your apartments
are.1A[190]
S E C T I O N I I I
WHOEVER has been an Observer of Action and Grace in
human Bodys, must of necessity have discover'd the great
difference in this respect between such Persons as have been taught
by Nature only, and such as by Reflection, and the assistance of
Art, have learnt to form those Motions, which on experience are
found the easiest and most natural. Of the former kind are either
those good Rusticks, who have been bred remote from the form'd
Societys of Men; or those plain Artizans, and People of lower
Rank, who living in Citys and Places of resort, have been necessitated
however to follow mean Imployments, and wanted the
Opportunity and Means to form themselves after the better Models.
There are some Persons indeed so happily form'd by Nature
her-self, that with the greatest Simplicity or Rudeness of Education,
they have still something of a natural Grace and Comeliness
in their Action: And there are others of a better Education, who by
a wrong Aim and injudicious Affectation of Grace, are of all People
the farthest remov'd from it. 'Tis undeniable however, that the
1 Tecum habita, & nôris qum sit tibi curta supellex.
Pers. Sat. 4.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 119
Sect. 3.Perfection of Grace and Comeliness in Action and Behaviour, can
be found only among the People of a liberal Education. And evenA [191]
among the graceful of this kind, those still are found the gracefullest,
who early in their Youth have learnt their Exercises, and
form'd their Motions under the best Masters.
Now such as these Masters and their Lessons are to a fine Gentleman,
such are Philosophers, and Philosophy, to an Author. The Case
is the same in the fashionable, and in the literate World. In the
former of these 'tis remark'd, that by the help of good Company,
and the force of Example merely, a decent Carriage is acquir'd,
with such apt Motions and such a Freedom of Limbs, as on all
ordinary occasions may enable the Party to demean himself like
a Gentleman. But when upon further occasion, trial is made in
an extraordinary way; when Exercises of the genteeler kind are to
be perform'd in publick, 'twill easily appear who of the Pretenders
have been form'd by Rudiments, and had Masters in private; and
who, on the other side, have contented themselves with bare Imitation,
and learnt their Part casually and by rote. The Parallel is
easily made on the side of Writers. They have at least as much need
of learning the several Motions, Counterpoises and Balances of
the Mind and Passions, as the other Students those of the Body
and Limbs.A [192]
*Sound knowledge is the first requisite for writing well; the
books of Socrates' school will yield you the matter.
* Scribendi rect, sapere est & principium & fons,
Rem tibi SOCRATICAE poterunt ostendere CHARTAE.
Hor. de Arte Poet.
See even the dissolute PETRONIUS's Judgment of a Writer.
Artis severae si quis amat effectus,
Mentemque magnis applicat; prius more
Frugalitatis lege polleat exactâ;
Nec curet alto regiam trucem vultu.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
neve plausor in Scaenâ
Sedeat redemptus, Histrioniae addictus.
120 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. The Galant, no doubt, may pen a Letter to his Mistress, as the
Courtier may a Compliment to the Minister, or the Minister to the
Favourite above him, without going such vast Depths into Learning
or Philosophy. But for these privileg'd Gentlemen, tho they
set Fashions and prescribe Rules in other Cases, they are no Controulers
in the Commonwealth of Letters. Nor are they presum'd
to write to the Age, or for remote Posterity. Their Works are not
of a nature to intitle 'em to hold the Rank of Authors, or beA styľd[193]
Writers by way of Excellence in the kind. Shou'd their Ambition
lead 'em into such a Field, they wou'd be oblig'd to come otherwise
equip'd.They who enter the publick Lists, must come duly train'd,
and exercis'd, like well appointed Cavaliers, expert in Arms, and
well instructed in the Use of their Weapon, and Management of
their Steed. For to bewell accouter'd, and well mounted, is not sufficient.
The Horse alone can never make the Horseman; nor Limbs
the Wrestler or the Dancer. No more can a Genius alone make a
Poet; or good Parts aWriter, in anyconsiderable kind.The Skill and
Grace of Writing is founded, as our wise Poet tells us, in Knowledg
and good Sense: and not barely in that Knowledg, which is to be
* * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Mox & Socratico plenus grege, mutet habenas
Liber, & ingentis quatiat Demosthenis arma.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * *
His animum succinge bonis, sic flumine largo
Plenus, Pierio desundes pectore verba.
[By liberal arts would you acquire renown,
And rise to power by honours of the gown?
Strict in your life, of conversation chaste,
Far from the court with just precaution haste,
The haughty great but very rare attend,
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
And fly the luscious accents of the stage,
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Next let philosophy employ your thought,
And maxims learn the wise Athenian taught, etc.]
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 121
Sect. 3.learnt from common Authors, or the general Conversation of the
World; but from those particular Rules of Art, which Philosophy
alone exhibits.
The Philosophical Writings, to which our Poet in his Art of
Poetry refers, were in themselves a kind of Poetry, like the *Mimes,
or personated Pieces of early times, before Philosophy was in vogue,
and when as yet Dramatical Imitation was scarce form'd; orat least,
in many Parts, not brought to due perfection. They wereA Pieces [194]
which, besides their force of Style, and hidden Numbers, carry'd a
sort of Action and Imitation, the same as the Epick and Dramatick
kinds. They were either real Dialogues, or Recitals of such personated
Discourses; where the Persons themselves had their Characters
preserv'd thro'out; their Manners, Humours, and distinct Turns
of Temper and Understanding maintain'd, according to the most
exact poetical Truth. 'Twas not enough that these Pieces treated
fundamentally of Morals, and in consequence pointed out real
Characters and Manners: They exhibited 'em alive, and set the
Countenances and Complexions of Men plainly in view. And by
this means they not only taught Us to know Others; but, what
was principal and of highest virtue in 'em, they taught us to know
Our-selves.
The Philosophical Hero of these Poems, whose Name they
carry'd both in their Bodyand Front, and whose Genius and Manner
they were made to represent, was in himself a perfect Character;
yet, in some respects, so veiľd, and in a Cloud, that to the
unattentive Surveyor he seem'd often to be very different from
what he really was: and this chiefly by reason of a certain exquisite
and refin'd Raillery which belong'd to his Manner, and by
virtue of which he cou'd treat the highestA Subjects, and those of [195]
the commonest Capacity both together, and render 'em explanatory
of each other. So that in this Genius of writing, there appear'd
both the heroick and the simple, the tragick, and the comick
Vein. However, it was so order'd, that notwithstanding the Odd*
Infra, pag. 254 in the Notes.
122 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. ness or Mysteriousness of the principal Character, the Under-parts
or second Characters shew'd human Nature more distinctly, and
to the Life. We might here, therefore, as in a Looking-Glass, discover
our-selves, and see our minutest Features nicely delineated,
and suted to ourown Apprehension and Cognizance. No-onewho
was ever so little a-while an Inspector, cou'd fail of becoming acquainted
with his own Heart. And, what was of singular note in
these magical Glasses, it wou'd happen, that by constant and long
Inspection, the Partys accustom'd to the Practice, wou'd acquire a
peculiar speculative Habit; so as virtually to carry about with 'em
a sort of Pocket-Mirrour, always ready, and in use. In this, there
were Two Faces which wou'd naturally present themselves to our
view: One of them, like the commanding Genius, the Leader and
Chief above-mention'd; the other like that rude, undisciplin'd and
headstrong Creature, whom we our-selves in our natural Capacity
most exactly resembled.Whatever we were employ'd in, whatever
we set about; if once we hadAacquir'd the habit of this Mirrour; we[196]
shou'd, by virtue of the double Reflection, distinguish our-selves
into two different Partys. And in this Dramatick Method, theWork
of Self-Inspection wou'd proceed with admirable Success.
'Tis nowonder that the primitive Poets were esteem'd such Sages
in their Times; since it appears, they were such well-practis'd Dialogists,
and accustom'd to this improving Method, before ever Philosophy
had adopted it. Their Mimes or characteriz'd Discourses
were as much relish'd, as their most regular Poems; and were the
Occasion perhaps that so many of these latter were form'd in such
perfection. For Poetry it-self was defin'd an Imitation chiefly of
Men and Manners: and was that in an exalted and noble degree,
which in a low one we call Mimickry. 'Tis in this that the great
*Mimographer, the Father and Prince of Poets, excels so highly; his
*       ,      
,      .       
         ,     ,
    . [Homer, excellent in many other respects, is specially
so because he is the only poet who knows what part to take himself. For the
poet in his own person should speak as little as may be, for it is not his speaking
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 123
Sect. 3.Characters being wrought to a Likeness beyond what any succeeding
Masters were ever able to describe. Nor are his Works, which
are so full of Action, any other than an artful Series or Chain of
Dialogues, which turn upon one remarkaAble Catastrophe or Event. [197]
He describes no Qualitys or Virtues; censures no Manners: makes
no Encomiums, nor gives Characters himself; but brings his Actors
still in view. 'Tis they who shew themselves. 'Tis they who speak
in such a manner, as distinguishes 'em in all things from all others,
and makes 'em ever like themselves. Their different Compositions
and Allays so justly made, and equally carry'd on, thro' every particle
of the Action, give more Instruction than all the Comments
or Glosses in the world. The Poet, instead of giving himself those
dictating and masterly Airs of Wisdom, makes hardly any figure
at all, and is scarce discoverable in his Poem. This is being truly a
Master. He paints so as to need no Inscription over his Figures, to
tell us what theyare,or what he intends by 'em. A few words let fall,
on any slight occasion, from any of the Partys he introduces, are
sufficient to denote their Manners and distinct Character. From a
Finger or a Toe, he can represent to our Thoughts the Frame and
Fashion of a whole Body. He wants no other help of Art, to personate
his Heroes, and make 'em living. There was no more left
for Tragedy to do after him, than to erect a Stage, and draw his
Dialogues and Characters into Scenes; turning, in the same manner,
upon one principal Action or Event, with that regard to Place
andATime which was sutable to a real Spectacle. Even *Comedy it- [198]
self was adjudg'd to this great Master; it being deriv'd from those
Parodys or Mock-Humours, of which he had given the Specimen
in a conceaľd sort of Raillery intermix'd with the Sublime.--A
dangerous Stroke of Art! and which requir'd a masterly Hand, like
that of the philosophical Hero, whose Character was represented
in the Dialogue-Writings above-mention'd.
which makes him an imitator. Now, other poets are on the stage themselves all the
time, but their imitations are short and few.] Arist. de Poet. cap. 24.
* Infra, pag. 246, 253 in the Notes.
 Not only in his Margites, but even in his Iliad and Odyssee.
124 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. From hence possibly we may form a Notion of that Resemblance,
which on so many occasions was heretofore remark'd between
the Prince of Poets, and the Divine Philosopher, who was
said to rival him, and who together with his Contemporarys of
the same School, writ wholly in that manner of Dialogue abovedescrib'd.
From hence too we may comprehend perhaps, why the
Study of Dialogue was heretofore thought so advantageous to
Writers, and why this manner of Writing was judg'd so difficult,
which at first sight, it must be own'd, appears the easiest of any.
I have formerly wonder'd indeed why a Manner, which was
familiarly us'd inATreatises upon most Subjects, with so much Suc-[199]
cess among the Antients, shou'd be so insipid and of little esteem
with us Moderns. But I afterwards perceiv'd, that besides the difficulty
of the Manner it-self, and that Mirrour-Faculty, which we
have observ'd it to carry in respect of our-selves, it proves also of
necessity a kind of Mirrour or Looking-Glass to the Age. If so;
it shou'd of consequence (you'll say) be the more agreeable and
entertaining.
True; if the real View of our-selves be not perhaps displeasing
to us. But why more displeasing to Us than to the Antients? Because
perhaps they cou'd with just reason bear to see their natural
Countenances represented. And why not We the same? What
shou'd discourage us? Forarewe not as handsom, at least in ourown
eyes? Perhaps not: as we shall see, when we have consider'd a little
further what the force is of this Mirrour-Writing, and how it differs
from that more complaisant modish way, in which an Author,
instead of presenting us with other natural Characters, sets off his
own with the utmost Art, and purchases his Reader's Favour by all
imaginable Compliances and Condescensions.
AN AUTHOR who writes in his own Person, has the advantage
of beingAwho or what he pleases. He is no certain Man, nor has any[200]
certain or genuine Character: but sutes himself, on every occasion,
to the Fancy of his Reader, whom, as the fashion is now-a-days, he
constantly caresses and cajoles. All turns upon their two Persons.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 125
Sect. 3.And as in an Amour, or Commerce of Love-Letters; so here the
Author has the Privilege of talking eternally of himself, dressing
and sprucing himself up; whilst he is making diligent court, and
working upon the Humour of the Party to whom he addresses.
This is the Coquetry of a modern Author; whose Epistles Dedicatory,
Prefaces, and Addresses to the Reader, are so many affected
Graces, design'd to draw the Attention from the Subject, towards
Himself; and make it be generally observ'd, not so much what he
says, as what he appears, or is, and what figure he already makes, or
hopes to make, in the fashionable World.
These are the Airs which a neighbouring Nation give themselves,
more particularly in what theycall their Memoirs. Their very
Essays on Politicks, their Philosophical and Critical Works, their
Comments upon antient and modern Authors, all their Treatises
are Memoirs. The whole Writing of this Age is become indeed a
sort of Memoir-Writing. Tho in the real Memoirs of the Antients,
even when theyAwrit at any time concerning themselves, there was [201]
neither the I nor THOU thro'out the whole Work. So that all this
pretty Amourand Intercourse of Caresses between the Authorand
Reader was thus intirely taken away.
Much more is this the Case in DIALOGUE. For here the Author is
annihilated; and the Reader being nowayapply'd to, stands for Nobody.
The self-interesting Partys both vanish at once. The Scene
presents it-self, as by chance, and undesign'd. You are not only left
to judg coolly, and with indifference, of the Sense deliver'd; but
of the Character, Genius, Elocution, and Manner of the Persons
who deliver it. These two are mere Strangers, in whose favour you
are no way engag'd. Nor is it enough that the Persons introduc'd
speak pertinent and good Sense, at every turn. It must be seen from
what Bottom they speak; from what Principle, what Stock or Fund
of Knowledg they draw; and what Kind or Species of Understanding
they possess. For the Understanding here must have its Mark,
its characteristick Note, by which it may be distinguish'd. It must
be such and such an Understanding; as when we say, for instance,
such or such a Face: since Nature has characteriz'd Tempers and
126 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. Minds as peculiarly as Faces. And for an Artist who drawsA naturally,
'tis not enough to shew us merely Faces which may be calľd[202]
Men's: Every Face must be a certain Man's.
Now as a Painter who draws Battels or other Actions of Christians,
Turks, Indians, or any distinct and peculiar People, must of
necessity draw the several Figures of his Piece in their proper and
real Proportions, Gestures, Habits, Arms, or at least with as fair resemblance
as possible; so in the same manner that Writer, whoever
he be, among us Moderns, who shall venture to bring his FellowModerns
into Dialogue, must introduce 'em in their proper Manners,
Genius, Behaviour and Humour. And this is the Mirrour or
Looking-Glass above describ'd.
For instance, a Dialogue, we will suppose, is fram'd, after the
manner of our antient Authors. In it, a poor Philosopher, of a
mean figure, accosts one of the powerfullest, wittiest, handsomest,
and richest Noblemen of the time, as he is walking leisurely
towards the Temple. ``You are going then,'' says he, (calling him by
his plain name) ``to pay your Devotions yonder at the Temple?'' ``I
am so.'' ``But with an Air methinks, as if some Thought perplex'd
you.'' ``What is there in the Case which shou'd perplex one?'' ``The
Thought perhapsA of your Petitions, and the Consideration what[203]
Vows you had best offer to the Deity.'' ``Is that so difficult? Can any
one be so foolish as to ask of Heaven what is not for his Good?''
``Not, if he understands what his Good is.'' ``Who can mistake it,
if he has common Sense, and knows the difference between Prosperity
and Adversity?'' `` 'Tis Prosperity therefore you wou'd pray
for.'' ``Undoubtedly.'' ``For instance, that absolute Sovereign, who
commands all things by virtue of his immense Treasures, and governs
by his sole Will and Pleasure, him you think prosperous, and
his State happy.''
Whilst I am copying this, (for 'tis no more indeed than a borrow'd
Sketch from one of those Originals before-mention'd) I see
a thousand Ridicules arising from the Manner, the Circumstances
and Action it-self, compar'd with modern Breeding and Civility.
--Let us therefore mend the matter, if possible, and introduce the
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 127
Sect. 3.same Philosopher, addressing himself in a more obsequious manner,
to his Grace, his Excellency, or his Honour; without failing in the
least tittle of the Ceremonial. Or let us put the Case more favourably
still for our Man of Letters. Let us suppose him to be incognito,
without the least appearance of a Character, which in our Age is
so littleA recommending. Let his Garb and Action be of the more [204]
modish sort, in order to introduce him better, and gain him Audience.
And with these Advantages and Precautions, imagine still in
what manner he must accost this Pageant of State, if at any time he
finds him at leisure, walking in the Fields alone, and without his
Equipage. Consider how many Bows, and simpering Faces! how
many Preludes, Excuses, Compliments!--Now put Compliments,
put Ceremony into a Dialogue, and see what will be the Effect!
This is the plain Dilemma against that antient manner of Writing,
which we can neither well imitate, nor translate; whatever
Pleasure or Profit we may find in reading those Originals. For what
shall we do in such a Circumstance? What if the Fancy takes us,
and we resolve to try the Experiment in modern Subjects? See the
Consequence!--If we avoid Ceremony, we are unnatural: if we
use it, and appear as we naturally are, as we salute, and meet, and
treat one another, we hate the Sight.--Whaťs this but hating our
own Faces? Is it the Painter's Fault? Shou'd he paint falsly, or affectedly;
mix Modern with Antient, join Shapes preposterously, and
betray his Art? If not; what Medium is there? What remains for
him, but to throw away the Pencil?A--No more designing after the [205]
Life: no more Mirrour-Writing, or personal Representation of any
kind whatever.
THUS Dialogue is at an end. The Antients cou'd see their own
Faces; but we can't. And why this? Why, but because we have less
Beauty: for so our Looking-Glass can inform us. Ugly Instrument!
And for this reason to be hated.--Our Commerce and manner
of Conversation, which we think the politest imaginable, is
such, it seems, as we our-selves can't endure to see represented to
the Life. 'Tis here, as in our real Portraitures, particularly those
128 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. at full Length, where the poor Pencil-man is put to a thousand
shifts, whilst he strives to dress us in affected Habits, such as we
never wore; because shou'd he paint us in thosewe really wear, they
wou'd of necessity make the Piece to be so much more ridiculous,
as it was more natural, and resembling.
Thus much for Antiquity, and those Rules of Art, those Philosophical
Sea-Cards, by which the adventurous Genius's of the
Times were wont to steer their Courses, and govern their impetuous
Muse. These were the CHARTAE of our Roman Master-Poet,
and these the Pieces of Art, theAMirrours, the Exemplars he bids us[206]
place before our Eyes.
*Thumb your Greek patterns by night and by day.
And thus Poetry and the Writer's Art, as in many respects it resembles
the Statuary's and the Painter's, so in this more particularly,
that it has its original Draughts and Models for Study and Practice;
not for Ostentation, to be shown abroad, or copy'd for publick
view. These are the antient Busts; the Trunks of Statues; the Pieces
of Anatomy; the masterly rough Drawings which are kept within;
as the secret Learning, the Mystery, and fundamental Knowledg
of the Art. There is this essential difference however between the
Artists of each kind; that they who design merely after Bodys, and
form the Graces of this sort, can never with all their Accuracy, or
Correctness of Design, be able to reform themselves, or grow a jot
more shapely in their Persons. But for those Artists who copy from
another Life, who study the Graces and Perfections of Minds, and
are real Masters of those Rules which constitute this latter Science;
'tis impossible they shou'd fail of being themselves improv'd, and
amended in their better Part.A[207]
I must confess there is hardly any where to be found a more
insipid Race of Mortals, than those whom we Moderns are con*
--Vos Exemplaria Graeca
Nocturnâ versate manu, versate diurnâ.
Hor. de Arte Poet. v. 268.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 129
Sect. 3.tented to call Poets, for having attain'd the chiming Faculty of a
Language, with an injudicious random use of Wit and Fancy. But
for the Man, who truly and in a just sense deserves the Name
of Poet, and who as a real Master, or Architect in the kind, can
describe both Men and Manners, and give to an Action its just
Body and Proportions; he will be found, if I mistake not, a very
different Creature. Such a Poet is indeed a second Maker; a just
PROMETHEUS, under JOVE. Like that Sovereign Artist or universal
Plastick Nature, he forms a Whole, coherent and proportion'd in
it-self, with due Subjection and Subordinacy of constituent Parts.
He notes the Boundarys of the Passions, and knows their exact
Tones and Measures; by which he justly represents them, marks the
Sublime of Sentiments and Action, and distinguishes the Beautiful
from the Deform'd, the Amiable from the Odious. The moral Artist,
who can thus imitate the Creator, and is thus knowing in the inward
Form and Structure of his Fellow-Creature,will hardly, I presume,
be found unknowing in Himself, or at a loss in those Numbers
which make the Harmony of a Mind. For Knavery isA mere [208]
Dissonance and Disproportion. And tho Villains may have strong
Tones and natural Capacitys of Action; 'tis impossible that *true
* The Maxim will hardly be disprov'd by Fact or History, either in respect of
Philosophers themselves, or others who were the great Genius's or Masters in the
liberal Arts. The Characters of the two best Roman Poets are well known. Those
of the antient Tragedians no less. And the great Epick Master, tho of an obscurer
and remoter Age, was ever presum'd to be far enough from a vile or knavish Character.
The Roman as well as the Grecian Orator was true to his Country; and died
in like manner a Martyr for its Liberty. And those Historians who are of highest
value, were either in a private Life approv'd good Men, or noted such by their Actions
in the Publick. As for Poets in particular, says the learned and wise STRABO,
``Can we possibly imagine, that the Genius, Power, and Excellence of a real Poet
consists in aught else than the just Imitation of Life, in form'd Discourse and Numbers?
But how shou'd he be that just Imitator of Life, whilst he himself knows not
its Measures, nor how to guide himself by Judgment and Understanding? For we
have not surely the same Notion of the Poeťs Excellence as of the ordinary Craftsman's,
the Subject of whose Art is sensless Stone or Timber, without Life, Dignity,
or Beauty: whilst the Poeťs Art turning principally on Men and Manners, he has
his Virtue and Excellence, as Poet, naturally annex'd to human Excellence, and to
the Worth and Dignity of Man. Insomuch that 'tis impossible he shou'd be a great
130 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. Judgment and Ingenuity shou'd reside, where Harmony and Honesty
have no being.A[209]
BUT having enter'd thus seriously into the Concerns of Authors,
and shewn their chief Foundation and Strength, their preparatory
Discipline, and qualifying Method of Self-Examination; 'tis fit, ere
we disclose this Mystery any further, we shou'd consider the Advantages
or Disadvantages our Authors may possibly meet with,
from abroad: and how far their Genius may be depress'd or rais'd
by any external Causes, arising from the Humour or Judgment of
the World.
Whatever it be which influences in this respect, must proceed
either from the GRANDEES and Men in Power, the CRITICKS and
Men of Art, or the PEOPLE themselves, the common Audience, and
mere Vulgar. We shall begin therefore with the Grandees, and pretended
Masters of the World: taking the liberty, in favour of Authors,
to bestow some Advice also on these high Persons; if possibly
they are dispos'd to receive it in such a familiar way as this.A[210]
PART II
S E C T I O N I
AS usual as it is with Mankind to act absolutely byWill and Pleasure,
without regard to Counsel, or the rigid Method of Rule
and Precept; it must be acknowledg'd nevertheless, that the good
and laudable Custom of asking Advice, is still upheld, and kept in
and worthy Poet, who is not first a worthy and good Man.''     
       , &c.     
 .       ,   
 --. [For, we do not say that the virtue of the poets is like that of carpenters
or blacksmiths, etc. Rather, the poeťs virtue yokes itself to human virtue.
And it is not possible to become a good poet, unless one first has become a good
man.] Lib. 1. See below, pag. 278, 337 and 350, 351 in the Notes. And VOL. III. pag.
247, 248, 249, 273, 282.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 131
Sect. 1.fashion, as a matter of fair Repute, and honourable Appearance:
Insomuch that even Monarchs, and absolute Princes themselves,
disdain not, we see, to make profession of the Practice.
'Tis, I presume, on this account, that the Royal Persons are
pleas'd, on publick Occasions, to make use of the noted Style
of WE and US. Not that they are suppos'd to have any Converse
with Themselves, as being endow'd with the Privilege of becoming
Plural, and enlarging their Capacity, in the manner above
describ'd. Single and absolute Persons in Government,A I'm sen- [211]
sible, can hardly be consider'd as any other than single and absolute
in Morals. They have no Inmate-Controuler to cavil with 'em, or
dispute their Pleasure. Nor have they, from any Practice abroad,
been able at any time to learn the way of being free and familiar
with themselves, at home. INCLINATION and WILL in such as
these, admit as little Restraint or Check in private Meditation as
in publick Company. The World, which serves as a Tutor to Persons
of an inferior rank, is submissive to these Royal Pupils; who
from their earliest days are us'd to see even their Instructors bend
before 'em, and hear every thing applauded which they themselves
perform.
For fear therefore, lest their Humour merely, or the Caprice of
some Favourite, shou'd be presum'd to influence 'em, when they
come toyears of princely Discretion, and are advanc'd to the Helm
of Government; it has been esteem'd a necessary Decency to summon
certain Advisers by Profession, to assist as Attendants to the
single Person, and be join'd with him in his written Edicts, Proclamations,
Letters-Patent, and other Instruments of Regal Power.
For this use, Privy-Counsellors have been erected; who being Persons
of considerable Figure and wise Aspect, cannot be suppos'd
to stand as Statues or mereACyphers in the Government, and leave [212]
the Royal Acts erroneously and falsly describ'd to us in the Plural
Number; when, at the bottom, a single Will or Fancy was the sole
Spring and Motive.
Foreign Princes indeed have most of 'em that unhappy Prerogative
of acting unadvisedly and wilfully in their national Affairs: But
'tis known to be far otherwise with the legal and just Princes of our
132 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. Island.Theyare surrounded with the best of Counsellors, the LAWS.
They administer Civil Affairs by Legal Officers, who have the Direction
of their Publick Will and Conscience: and they annually
receive Advice and Aid, in the most effectual manner, from their
good People. To this wise Genius of our Constitution we may be
justly said to owe our wisest and best Princes; whose High Birth or
Royal Education cou'd not alone be suppos'd to have given 'em that
happy Turn: since by experience we find, that those very Princes,
from whose Conduct the World abroad, as well as We at home,
have reap'd the greatest Advantages, were such as had the most
controverted Titles; and in their youth had stood in the remoter
Prospects of Regal Power, and liv'd the nearest to a private Life.A[213]
Other Princes we have had, who tho difficult perhaps in receiving
Counsel, have been eminent in the Practice of applying
it to others. They have listed themselves Advisers in form; and by
publishing their admonitory Works, have added to the number of
those, whom in this Treatise we have presum'd to criticize. But our
Criticism being withal an Apology for Authors, and a Defense of
the literate Tribe; it cannot be thought amiss in us, to join the Royal
with the Plebeian Penmen, in this common Cause.
'Twou'd be a hard Case indeed, shou'd the Princes of our Nation
refuse to countenance the industrious Race of Authors; since their
Royal Ancestors, and Predecessors, have had such Honour deriv'd
to 'em from this Profession. 'Tis to this they owe that bright Jewel
of their Crown, purchas'd by a warlike Prince; who having assum'd
the Author, and essay'd his Strength in the polemick Writings of the
School-Divines, thought it an Honour on this account to retain
the Title of DEFENDER OF THE FAITH.
Another Prince, of a more pacifick Nature and fluent Thought,
submitting Arms and martial Discipline to the Gown; and confiding
in his princely SciAence and profound Learning, made his[214]
Style and Speech the Nerve and Sinew of his Government. He
gave us his Works full of wise Exhortation and Advice to his Royal
Son, as well as of Instruction to his good People; who cou'd not
without admiration observe their Author-Sovereign, thus studious
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 133
Sect. 1.and contemplative in their behalf. 'Twas then, one might have
seen our Nation growing young and docile, with that Simplicity
of Heart, which qualify'd 'em to profit like a Scholar-People under
their Royal Preceptor. For with abundant Eloquence he graciously
gave Lessons to his Parliament, tutor'd his Ministers, and edify'd
the greatest Churchmen and Divines themselves; by whose Suffrage
he obtain'd the highest Appellations which cou'd be merited
by the acutest Wit, and truest Understanding. From hence the
British Nations were taught to own in common a SOLOMON for
their joint Sovereign, the Founder of their late compleated Union.
Nor can it be doubted that the pious Treatise of Self-Discourse ascrib'd
to the succeeding Monarch, contributed in a great measure
to his glorious and never-fading Titles of SAINT, and MARTYR.
However it be, I wou'd not willingly take upon me to recommend
this Author-Character to our future Princes. WhatAever [215]
Crowns or Laurels their renown'd Predecessors may have gather'd
in this Field of Honour; I shou'd think that for the future, the
speculative Province might more properly be committed to private
Heads. 'Twou'd be a sufficient Encouragement to the learned
World, and a sure Earnest of the Increase and Flourishing of Letters
in our Nation, if its Sovereigns wou'd be contented to be the
Patrons of Wit, and vouchsafe to look graciously on the ingenious
Pupils of Art. Or were it the Custom of their Prime-Ministers, to
have any such regard; it wou'd of it-self be sufficient to change the
Face of Affairs. A small degree of Favour wou'd insure the Fortunes
of a distress'd and ruinous Tribe, whose forlorn Condition
has help'd to draw Disgrace upon Arts and Sciences, and kept them
far off from that Politeness and Beauty, in which they wou'd soon
appear, if the aspiring Genius of our Nation were forwarded by the
least Care or Culture.
There shou'd not, one wou'd think, be any need of Courtship
or Persuasion to engage our Grandees in the Patronage of Arts and
Letters. For in our Nation, upon the foot Things stand, and as they
are likely to continue; 'tis not difficult to foresee that Improvements
will be made in every Art and Science.The MUSESAwill have [216]
134 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. their Turn; and with or without their MAECENAS's will grow in
Credit and Esteem; as they arrive to greater Perfection, and excel
in every kind. There will arise such Spirits as wou'd have credited
their Court-Patrons, had they found any so wise as to have fought
'em out betimes, and contributed to their rising Greatness.
'Tis scarce a quarter of an Age since such a happy Balance of
Power was settled between our Prince and People, as has firmly secur'd
our hitherto precarious Libertys, and remov'd from us the
Fear of civil Commotions, Wars and Violence, either on account
of Religion and Worship, the Property of the Subject, or the contending
Titles of the Crown. But as the greatest Advantages of
this World are not to be bought at easy Prices; we are still at this
moment expending both our Blood and Treasure, to secure to
our-selves this inestimable Purchase of our Free Government and
National Constitution. And as happy as we are in this Establishment
at home; we are still held in a perpetual Alarm by the Aspect
of Affairs abroad, and by the Terror of that Power, which ere Mankind
had well recover'd the Misery of those barbarous Ages consequent
to the Roman Yoke, has again threaten'd the World with
a Universal Monarchy, andAa new Abyss of Ignorance and Super-[217]
stition.
The British Muses, in this Dinn of Arms, may well lie abject and
obscure; especially being as yet in their mere Infant-State. They
have hitherto scarce arriv'd to any-thing of Shapeliness or Person.
They lisp as in their Cradles: and their stammering Tongues,
which nothing besides their Youth and Rawness can excuse, have
hitherto spoken in wretched Pun and Quibble. Our Dramatick
SHAKESPEAR, our FLETCHER, JOHNSON, and our Epick MILTON
preserve this Style. And even a latter Race, scarce free of this Infirmity,
and aiming at a false Sublime, with crouded Simile, and mix'd
Metaphor, (the Hobby-Horse, and Rattle of the MUSES) entertain
our raw Fancy, and unpractis'd Ear; which has not as yet had leisure
to form it-self, and become *truly musical.
* VOL. III. p. 263, 264.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 135
Sect. 1.But those reverend Bards, rude as they were, according to their
Time and Age, have provided us however with the richest Ore.
To their eternal Honour they have withal been the first of EUROPEANS,
who since the GOTHICK Model of Poetry, attempted to
throw off the horrid Discord of jingling Rhyme. They have assertedAantient
Poetick Liberty, and have happily broken the Ice for [218]
those who are to follow 'em; and who treading in their Footsteps,
may at leisure polish our Language, lead our Ear to finer Pleasure,
and find out the true Rhythmus, and harmonious Numbers, which
alone can satisfy a just Judgment, and Muse-like Apprehension.
'Tis evident, our natural Genius shines above that airy neighbouring
Nation; of whom, however, it must be confess'd, that with
truer Pains and Industry, they have sought Politeness, and study'd
to give the MUSES their due Body and Proportion, as well as the
natural Ornaments of Correctness, Chastity, and Grace of Style.
From the plain Model of the Antients, they have rais'd a noble
*Satirist. In the Epick Kind their Attempts have been less successful.
In the Dramatick they have been so happy, as to raise their
Stage to as great Perfection, as the Genius of their Nation will permit.
But the high Spirit of Tragedy can ill subsist where the Spirit of
Liberty is wanting. The Genius of this Poetry consists in the lively
Representation of the Disorders and Misery of the Great; to the
end that the People and those of a lower Condition may be taught
the better to content themselves with Privacy, enjoy their safer
State, and prize the EqualityAand Justice of their Guardian LAWS. [219]
If this be found agreeable to the just Tragick Model, which the Antients
have deliver'd to us; 'twill easily be conceiv'd how little such
a Model is proportion'd to the Capacity or Taste of those, who in
a long Series of Degrees, from the lowest Peasant to the high Slave
of Royal Blood, are taught to idolize the next in Power above 'em,
and think nothing so adorable as that unlimited Greatness, and
tyrannick Power, which is rais'd at their own Expence, and exercis'd
over themselves.
* BOILEAU.
136 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. 'Tis easy, on the other hand, to apprehend the Advantages of
our BRITAIN in this particular; and what effect its establish'd Liberty
will produce in every thing which relates to Art, when Peace
returns to us on these happy Conditions. 'Twas the Fate of ROME
to have scarce an intermediate Age, or single Period of Time, between
the Rise of Arts and Fall of Liberty. No sooner had that
Nation begun to lose the Roughness and Barbarity of their Manners,
and learn of GREECE to form their Heroes, their Orators and
Poets on a right Model, than by their unjust Attempt upon the
Liberty of the World, they justly lost their own. With their Liberty
they lost not only their Force of Eloquence, but even their
Style and Language it-self. The Poets who afterwards arose among
them,A were mere unnatural and forc'd Plants. Their Two most ac-[220]
complish'd, who came last, and clos'd the Scene, were plainly such
as had seen the Days of Liberty, and felt the sad Effects of its Departure.
Nor had these been ever brought in play, otherwise than
thro' the Friendship of the fam'd MAECENAS, who turn'd a *Prince
naturally cruel and barbarous to the Love and Courtship of the
MUSES. These Tutoresses form'd in their Royal Pupil a new Nature.
They taught him how to charm Mankind.They were more to him
than his Arms or military Virtue; and, more than Fortune her-self,
assisted him in his Greatness, and made his usurp'd Dominion so
inchanting to theWorld, that it cou'd see without regret its Chains
of Bondage firmly riveted. The corrupting Sweets of such a poisonous
Government were not indeed long-liv'd. The Bitter soon
succeeded. And, in the issue, the World was forc'd to bear with
patience those natural and genuine Tyrants, who succeeded to this
specious Machine of Arbitrary and Universal Power.
And now that I am falľn unawares into such profound Reflections
on the Periods of Government, and the Flourishing and Decay
of Liberty and Letters; I can'tA be contented to consider merely[221]
of the Inchantment which wrought so powerfully upon Mankind,
when first this Universal Monarchy was establish'd. I must won*
Infra, p. 269, 270 in the Notes.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 137
Sect. 1.der still more, when I consider how after the Extinction of this
CAESAREAN and CLAUDIAN Family, and a short Interval of Princes
rais'd and destroy'd with much Disorder and publick Ruin, the
ROMANS shou'd regain their perishing Dominion, and retrieve
their sinking State, by an after-Race of wise and able Princes successivelyadopted,
and taken from a private State to rule the Empire
of the World. They were Men who not only possess'd the military
Virtues, and supported that sort of Discipline in the highest
degree; but as they sought the Interest of the World, they did
what was in their power to restore Liberty, and raise again the perishing
Arts, and decay'd Virtue of Mankind. But the Season was
now past! The fatal Form of Government was become too natural:
And the World, which had bent under it, and was become slavish
and dependent, had neither Power nor Will to help it-self. The
only Deliverance it cou'd expect, was from the merciless hands of
the Barbarians, and a total Dissolution of that enormous Empire
and despotick Power, which the best Hands cou'd not preserve
from being destructive to human Nature. For even Barbarity and
GoAthicism were already enter'd into Arts, ere the Savages had made [222]
any Impression on the Empire. All the advantage which a fortuitous
and almost miraculous Succession of good Princes cou'd procure
their highly favour'd Arts and Sciences, was no more than to
preserve during their own time those *perishing Remains, which
had for a-while with difficulty subsisted, after the Decline of Liberty.
Not a Statue, not a Medal, not a tolerable Piece of Architecture
cou'd shew it-self afterwards. Philosophy,Wit and Learning,
in which some of those good Princes had themselves been so renown'd,
fell with them: and Ignorance and Darkness overspread
the World, and fitted it for the Chaos and Ruin which ensu'd.
WE ARE now in an Age when LIBERTY is once again in its Ascendent.
And we are our-selves the happy Nation, who not only enjoy
it at home, but byour Greatness and Power give Life and Vigour to
* Infra, p. 239, 341, 342 in the Notes.
138 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. it abroad; and are the Head and Chief of the EUROPEAN League,
founded on this Common Cause. Nor can it, I presume, be justly
fear'd that we shou'd lose this noble Ardour, or faint under the
glorious Toil; tho, like antient GREECE, we shou'd for succeeding
Ages be contendingAwith a foreign Power, and endeavouring to re-[223]
duce the Exorbitancy of a Grand Monarch. 'Tis with us at present,
as with the Roman People in those *early Days, when they wanted
only repose from Arms to apply themselves to the Improvement of
Arts and Studys.We shou'd, in this case, need no ambitious Monarch
to be allur'd, by hope of Fame or secret views of Power, to give
Pensions abroad, as well as at home, and purchase Flattery from
every Profession and Science.We shou'd find a better Fund within
ourselves; and might, without such Assistance, be able to excel, by
our own Virtue and Emulation.
Well it wou'd be indeed, and much to the Honour of our Nobles
and Princes, wou'd they freely help in this Affair; and bya judicious
Application of their Bounty, facilitate this happy Birth, of which
I have ventur'd to speak in a prophetick Style. 'Twou'd be of no
small advantage to 'em during their Life; and wou'd more than all
their other Labours procure 'em an immortal Memory. For they
must remember that their Fame is in the hands of Penmen; and
that the greatest ActionsAlose their Force, and perish in the custody[224]
of unable and mean Writers.
Let a Nation remain ever so rude or barbarous, it must have
its Poets, Rhapsoders, Historiographers, Antiquarys of some kind or
other; whose business it will be to recount its remarkable Transactions,
and record the Atchievements of its Civil and Military
Heroes. And tho the Military Kind may happen to be the furthest
* Serus enim Graecis admovit acumina Chartis;
Et post Punica Bella quietus, quarere caepit,
Quid Sophocles & Thespis & AEschylus utile ferrent.
Hor. Epist. 1. Lib. 2.
[Not till late did the Roman apply his shrewdness to the books of Greece; and it
was when resting after the Punic Wars that he began to inquire what useful thing
Sophocles and Thespis and Aeschylus offered.]
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 139
Sect. 1.remov'd from any acquaintance with Letters, or the MUSES; they
are yet, in reality, the most interested in the Cause and Party of
these Remembrancers. The greatest share of Fame and Admiration
falls naturally on the arm'd Worthys. The Great in Council are second
in the MUSES Favour. But if worthy poetick Genius's are not
found, nor able Penmen rais'd, to rehearse the Lives, and celebrate
the high Actions of great Men, they must be traduc'd by such Recorders
as Chance presents.We have few modern Heroes, who like
XENOPHON or CAESAR can write theirown Commentarys. And the
raw Memoir-Writings and unform'd Pieces of modern Statesmen,
full of their interested and private Views, will in another Age be of
little service to support their Memory or Name; since already the
World begins to sicken with the Kind. 'Tis the learn'd, the able,
and disinterested Historian, whoAtakes place at last. And when the [225]
signal Poet, or Herald of Fame is once heard, the inferior Trumpets
sink in Silence and Oblivion.
But supposing it were possible for the Hero, or Statesman, to be
absolutely unconcern'd for his Memory, or what came after him;
yet for the present merely, and during his own time, it must be of
importance to him to stand fair with the Men of Letters and Ingenuity,
and to have the Characterand Repute of being favourable to
their Art. Be the illustrious Person ever so high or awful in his Station;
he must have Descriptions made of him, in Verse, and Prose,
under feign'd, or real Appellations. If he be omitted in sound Ode,
or lofty Epick; he must be sung at least in Doggrel and plain Ballad.
The People will needs have his Effigies; tho they see his Person
ever so rarely: And if he refuses to sit to the good Painter, there are
others who, to oblige the Publick,will take the Design in hand.We
shall take up with what presents; and rather than be without the
illustrious Physiognomy of our great Man, shall be contented to
see him portraitur'd by the Artist who serves to illustrate Prodigys
in Fairs, and adorn heroick Sign-Posts. The ill Paint of this kind
cannot, iťs true, disgrace his Excellency; whose Privilege it is, in
commonA with the Royal Issue, to be rais'd to this degree of Hon- [226]
our, and to invite the Passenger or Traveller by his signal Represen-
140 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. tative. 'Tis suppos'd in this Case, that there are better Pictures current
of the Hero; and that such as these, are no true or favourable
Representations. But, in another sort of Limning, there is great
danger lest the Hand shou'd disgrace the Subject.Vile Encomiums,
and wretched Panegyricks are the worst of Satirs: And when sordid
and low Genius's make their Court successfully in one way, the
generous and able are aptest to revenge it in another.
ALL THINGS consider'd, as to the Interest of our Potentates
and GRANDEES, they appear to have only this Choice left 'em;
either wholly, if possible, to suppress Letters; or give a helping hand
towards their Support. Wherever the Author-Practice and Liberty
of the Pen has in the least prevaiľd, the Governors of the State must
be either considerable Gainers, or Sufferers by its means. So that
'twou'd become them either, by a right Turkish Policy, to strike
directly at the Profession, and overthrow the very Art and Mystery
it-self, or with Alacrity to support and encourage it, in the right
manner, by a generous and impartial regard toA Merit. To act nar-[227]
rowly, or by halves; or with indifference and coolness; or fantastically,
and by humour merely; will scarce be found to turn to their
account. They must do Justice; that Justice may be done them, in
return. 'Twill be in vain for our ALEXANDERS to give orders that
none besides a LYSIPPUS shou'd make their Statue, norany besides
an APELLES shou'd draw their Picture. Insolent Intruders will do
themselves the honour to practice on the Features of these Heroes.
And a vile CHAERILUS, after all, shall, with their own Consent
perhaps, supply the room of a deserving and noble Artist.
In a Government where the People are Sharers in Power, but
no Distributers or Dispensers of Rewards, they expect it of their
Princes and Great Men, that they shou'd supply the generous Part;
and bestow Honour and Advantages on those from whom the
Nation it-self may receive Honour and Advantage. 'Tis expected
that they who are high and eminent in the State, shou'd not only
provide for its necessary Safety and Subsistence, but omit nothing
which may contribute to its Dignity and Honour. The Arts
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 141
Sect. 1.and Sciences must not be left Patron-less. The Publick it-self will
join with the good Wits and Judges, in the resentment of such
a NegAlect. 'Tis no small advantage, even in an absolute Govern- [228]
ment, for a Ministry to have Wit on their side, and engage the
Men of Merit in this kind to be their Well-wishers and Friends.
And in those States where ambitious Leaders often contend for the
supreme Authority, 'tis a considerable advantage to the ill Cause
of such Pretenders, when they can obtain a Name and Interest
with the Men of Letters. The good Emperor TRAJAN, tho himself
no mighty Scholar, had his due as well as an AUGUSTUS; and
was as highly celebrated for his Munificence, and just Encouragement
of every Art and Virtue. And CAESAR, who cou'd write so
well himself, and maintain'd his Cause by Wit as well as Arms,
knew experimentally what it was to have even a CATULLUS his
Enemy: and tho lash'd so often in his Lampoons, continu'd to forgive
and court him.The Traitor knew the Importance of this Mildness.
May none who have the same Designs, understand so well the
advantages of such a Conduct! I wou'd have requir'd only this one
Defect in CAESAR's Generosity, to have been secure of his never
rising to Greatness, or enslaving his native Country. Let him have
shewn a Ruggedness and Austerity towards free Genius's, or a Neglect
or Contempt towards Men of Wit; let him have trusted to
his Arms, and declar'd against Arts andALetters; and he wou'd have [229]
prov'd a second MARIUS, or a CATILINE of meaner Fame, and
Character.
'Tis, I know, the Imagination of some who are calľd Great Men,
that in regard of their high Stations they may be esteem'd to pay a
sufficient Tribute to Letters, and discharge themselves as to their
own part in particular; if they chuse indifferently any Subject for
their Bounty, and are pleas'd to confer their Favour either on some
one Pretender to Art, or promiscuously to such of the Tribe of
Writers, whose chief Ability has lain in making their court well,
and obtaining to be introduc'd to their Acquaintance. This they
think sufficient to instal them Patrons of Wit, and Masters of the
literate Order. But this Method will of anyother the least serve their
142 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. Interest or Design.The ill placing of Rewards is a double Injury to
Merit; and in every Cause or Interest, passes for worse than mere
Indifference or Neutrality. There can be no Excuse for making an
ill Choice. Merit in every kind is easily discover'd, when sought.
The Publick it-self fails not to give sufficient indication; and points
out those Genius's who want only Countenance and Encouragement
to become considerable. An ingenious Man never starves
unknown: and Great Men must wink hard, or 'twou'dA be impos-[230]
sible for 'em to miss such advantageous Opportunitys of shewing
their Generosity, and acquiring the universal Esteem, Acknowledgments,
and good Wishes of the ingenious and learned part of
Mankind.
S E C T I O N I I
WHAT Judgment therefore we are to form, concerning the
Influence of our Grandees in matters of Art, and Letters,
will easily be gather'd from the Reflections already made. It may
appear from the very Freedom we have taken in censuring these
Men of Power, what little reason Authors have to plead 'em as their
Excuse for any Failure in the Improvement of their Art and Talent.
For in a free Country, such as ours, there is not any Order or Rank
of Men, more free than that of Writers: who if they have real Ability
and Merit, can fully right themselves when injur'd; and are ready
furnish'd with Means, sufficient to make themselves consider'd by
the Men in highest Power.
Nor shou'd I suspect the Genius of our Writers, or charge 'em
with Meanness and Insufficiency on the account of this Lowspiritedness
which they discover; were it not for another sort of
Fear, byAwhich they more plainly betray themselves, and seem con-[231]
scious of theirown Defect.The CRITICKS, it seems, are formidable
to 'em.The CRITICKS are the dreadful Specters, the Giants, the Enchanters,
who traverse and disturb 'em in their Works. These are
the Persecutors, for whose sake they are ready to hide their heads;
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 143
Sect. 2.begging rescue and protection of all good People; and flying in
particular to the Great, by whose Favour they hope to be defended
from this merciless examining Race. ``For what can be more cruel,
than to be forc'd to submit to the rigorous Laws of Wit, and write
under such severe Judges as are deaf to all Courtship, and can be
wrought upon by no Insinuation or Flattery to pass by Faults, and
pardon any Transgression of Art?''
To judg indeed of the Circumstances of a modern Author, by the
Pattern of his *Prefaces, Dedications, and Introductions, one wou'd
think that at the moment when a Piece of his was in hand, some
Conjuration was forming against him, some diabolical Powers
drawing together to blast his Work, and cross his generous Design.
He therefore rouzes his Indignation, hardens his Forehead,
and with many fuArious Defiances and Avant-SATANS! enters on his [232]
Business; not with the least regard to what may justly be objected
to him in a way of CRITICISM; but with an absolute Contempt of
the Manner and Art it-self.
Avaunt, ye uninitiated crowd,2 was in its time, no doubt, a generous
Defiance. The Avant! was natural and proper in its place;
especially where Religion and Virtue were the Poeťs Theme. But
with our Moderns the Case is generally the very Reverse. And accordingly
the Defiance or Avant shou'd run much after this manner:
``As for you vulgar Souls, mere Naturals, who know no Art,
were never admitted into the Temple of Wisdom, nor ever visited
the Sanctuarys of Wit or Learning, gather your-selves together
from all Parts, and hearken to the Song or Tale I am about to utter.
But for you Men of Science and Understanding, who have Ears
and Judgment, and can weigh Sense, scan Syllables, and measure
Sounds; You who by a certain Art distinguish false Thought from
true, Correctness from Rudeness, and Bombast and Chaos from Order
and the Sublime; Away hence! or stand aloof! whilst I practise upon
the Easiness of those mean Capacitys and Apprehensions, who
* Infra, p. 329, 330. And VOL. III. p. 259, 277 in the Notes.
2 Odi profanum vulgus & arceo. Hor. Odes, I. iii. 1.
144 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. make the most numerous Audience,A and are the only competent
Judges of my Labours.''[233]
'Tis strange to see how differently the Vanity of Mankind runs,
in different Times and Seasons. 'Tis at present the Boast of almost
every Enterprizer in the MUSES Art, ``That by his Genius alone,
and a natural Rapidity of Style and Thought, he is able to carry all
before him; that he plays with his Business, does things in passing,
at a venture, and in the quickest period of Time.'' In the days of
ATTICK Elegance, as Works were then truly of another Form and
Turn, so Workmen were of another Humour, and had their Vanity
of a quite contrary kind. They became rather affected in endeavouring
to discover the pains they had taken to be correct. They
were glad to insinuate how laboriously, and with what expence of
Time, they had brought the smallest Work of theirs (as perhaps
a single Ode or Satir, an Oration or Panegyrick) to its perfection.
When they had so polish'd their Piece, and render'd it so natural
and easy, that it seem'd only a lucky Flight, a Hit of Thought,
or flowing Vein of Humour; they were then chiefly concern'd lest
it shou'd in reality pass for such, and their Artifice remain undiscover'd.
They were willing it shou'd be known how serious their
Play was; and how elaborateAtheir Freedom and Facility: that they[234]
might say as the agreeable and polite Poet, glancing on himself,
*He will seem in sport, yet really be toiling. . . .
And,
So that any man may hope the same success, toil greatly, and
work in vain at the same task,--so great is the might of the
sequence and connection in writing.
* Ludentis speciem dabit & torquebitur
Hor. Epist. 2. lib. 2.
 Ut sibi quivis
Speret idem, sudet multum, frustraque laboret
Ausus idem, tantum series juncturaque pollet.
Id. de Arte Poet.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 145
Sect. 2.Such Accuracy of Workmanship requires a CRITICK's Eye. 'Tis
lost upon a vulgar Judgment. Nothing grieves a real Artist more
than that indifference of the Publick, which suffers Work to pass
uncriticiz'd. Nothing, on the other side, rejoices him more than
the nice View and Inspection of the accurate Examiner and Judg of
Work. 'Tis the mean Genius, the slovenly Performer, who knowing
nothing of true Workmanship, endeavours by the best outward
Gloss and dazling Shew, to turn the Eye from a direct and steddy
Survey of his Piece.
What is there which an expert Musician more earnestly desires,
than to perform his part in the presence of those who are knowing
in his Art? 'Tis to the EarAalone he applies himself; the critical, the [235]
nice Ear. Let his Hearers be of what Character they please: Be they
naturally austere, morose, or rigid; no matter, so they are Criticks,
able to censure, remark, and sound every Accord and Symphony.
What is there mortifies the good Painter more, than when amidst
his admiring Spectators there is not one present,who has been us'd
to compare the Hands of different Masters, or has an Eye to distinguish
the Advantages or Defects of every Style? Thro' all the
inferior Orders of Mechanicks, the Rule is found to hold the same.
In every Science, every Art, the real Masters, or Proficients, rejoice
in nothing more, than in the thorow Search and Examination of
their Performances, by all the Rules of Art and nicest Criticism.
Why therefore (in the MUSES name!) is it not the same with our
Pretenders to theWriting Art, our Poets, and Prose-Authors in every
kind? Why in this Profession arewe found such Critick-Haters, and
indulg'd in this unlearned Aversion; unless it be taken for granted,
that as Wit and Learning stand at present in our Nation, we are
still upon the foot of Empiricks and Mountebanks?
From these Considerations, I take upon me absolutely to condemn
the fashionable and prevailing Custom of inveighingAagainst [236]
CRITICKS, as the common Enemys, the Pests, and Incendiarys of
the Commonwealth of Wit and Letters. I assert, on the contrary,
that they are the Props and Pillars of this Building; and that with-
146 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. out the Encouragement and Propagation of such a Race,we shou'd
remain as GOTHICK Architects as ever.
*IN THE weaker and more imperfect Societys of Mankind, such
as those compos'd of federate Tribes, or mix'd Colonys, scarce
settled in their new Seats, it might pass for sufficient Goodfortune,
if the People prov'd only so far Masters of Language, as
to be able to understand one another, in order to confer about
their Wants, and provide for their common Necessitys. Their expos'd
and indigent State cou'd not be presum'd to afford 'em either
that full Leisure, or easy Disposition which was requisite to raise
'em to any Curiosity of Speculation. They who were neither safe
from Violence, nor secure of Plenty, were unlikely to engage in
unnecessary Arts. Nor cou'd it be expected they shou'd turn their
Attention towards the Numbers of their Language, and the harmonious
Sounds which they accidentally emitted. But when, in
process of time, the AffairsA of the Society were settled on an easy[237]
and secure Foundation; when Debates and Discourses on these Subjects
of common Interest, and publick Good, were grown familiar;
and the Speeches of prime Men, and Leaders, were consider'd, and
compar'd together: there wou'd naturally be observ'd not only a
more agreeable Measure of Sound, but a happier and more easy
Rangement of Thoughts, in one Speaker, than in another.
It may be easily perceiv'd from hence, that the Goddess PERSUASION
must have been in a manner the Mother of Poetry, Rhetorick,
Musick, and the other kindred Arts. For 'tis apparent, that where
chief Men, and Leaders had the strongest Interest to persuade; they
us'd the highest endeavours to please. So that in such a State or
Polity as has been describ'd, not only the best Order of Thought,
and Turn of Fancy, but the most soft and inviting Numbers must
have been employ'd, to charm the Publick Ear, and to incline the
Heart, by the Agreeableness of Expression.
Almost all the antient Masters of this sort were said to have been
* As to this, and what remains of the Section, see VOL. III. p. 136, &c.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 147
Sect. 2.MUSICIANS. And Tradition, which soon grew fabulous, cou'd not
better represent the first Founders or Establishers of these larger
Societys, than as real Songsters, who by the powerof theirAVoice and [238]
Lyre, cou'd charm the wildest Beasts, and draw the rude Forests
and Rocks into the Form of fairest Citys. Nor can it be doubted
that the same Artists, who so industriously apply'd themselves to
study the Numbers of Speech, must have made proportionable Improvements
in the Study of mere Sounds and natural Harmony;
which, of it-self, must have considerably contributed towards the
softning the rude Manners and harsh Temper of their new People.
If therefore it so happen'd in these free Communitys, made by
Consent and voluntary Association, that after a-while, the Power
of One, or of a Few, grew prevalent over the rest; if FORCE took
place, and the Affairs of the Society were administer'd without
their Concurrence, by the influence of Awe and Terror: it follow'd,
that these pathetick Sciences and Arts of Speech were little cultivated,
since they were of little use. But where PERSUASION was
the chief means of guiding the Society; where the People were to
be convinc'd before they acted; there Elocution became considerable;
there Orators and Bards were heard; and the chief Genius's
and Sages of the Nation betook themselves to the Study of those
Arts, by which the People were render'd more treatable in a way of
Reason and Understanding, and more subject to be led byAMen of [239]
Science and Erudition.The more these Artists courted the Publick,
the more they instructed it. In such Constitutions as these, 'twas
the Interest of the Wise and Able, that the Community shou'd be
Judges of Ability and Wisdom. The high Esteem of Ingenuity was
what advanc'd the Ingenious to the greatest Honours. And they
who rose by Science, and Politeness in the higher Arts, cou'd not
fail to promote that Taste and Relish to which they ow'd their personal
Distinction and Pre-eminence.
Hence it is that those Arts have been deliver'd to us in such
perfection, by free Nations; who from the Nature of their Government,
as from a proper Soil, produc'd the generous Plants: whilst
the mightiest Bodys and vastest Empires, govern'd by Force, and
148 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. a despotick Power, cou'd, after Ages of Peace and Leisure, produce
no other than what was deform'd and barbarous of the kind.
When the persuasive Arts were grown thus into repute, and the
Power of moving the Affections become the Study and Emulation
of the forward Wits and aspiring Genius's of the Times; it wou'd
necessarily happen that many Genius's of equal size and strength,
tho less covetous of publick Applause, of Power, or of Influence
over Mankind, wou'd content them-Aselves with the Contemplation[240]
merely of these enchanting Arts. These they wou'd the better enjoy,
the more they refin'd their Taste, and cultivated their Ear. For
to all Musick there must be an Ear proportionable. There must be
an Art of Hearing found, ere the performing Arts can have their
due effect, or any thing exquisite in the kind be felt or comprehended.
The just Performers therefore in each Art wou'd naturally
be the most desirous of improving and refining the publick Ear;
which they cou'd no way so well effect as by the help of those latter
Genius's, who were in a manner their Interpreters to the People; and
who by their Example taught the Publick to discover what was just
and excellent in each Performance.
Hence was the Origin of CRITICKS; who, as Arts and Sciences
advanc'd, wou'd necessarily come withal into repute; and being
heard with satisfaction in their turn, were at length tempted to become
Authors, and appear in publick. These were honour'd with
the Name of Sophists: A Character which in early times was highly
respected. Nor did the gravest Philosophers, who were Censors of
Manners, and CRITICKS of a higher degree, disdain to exert their
Criticism in the inferior Arts; especially in those relating to Speech,A[241]
and the power of Argument and Persuasion.
When such a Race as this was once risen, 'twas no longer possible
to impose on Mankind, by what was specious and pretending.
The Publick wou'd be paid in no false Wit, or jingling Eloquence.
Where the learned CRITICKS were sowell receiv'd, and Philosophers
themselves disdain'd not to be of the number; there cou'd not fail
to arise Criticks of an inferior Order, who wou'd subdivide the several
Provinces of this Empire. Etymologists, Philologists, Grammari-
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 149
Sect. 2.ans, Rhetoricians, and others of considerable note, and eminent in
their degree, wou'd every where appear, and vindicate the Truth
and Justice of their Art, by revealing the hidden Beautys which lay
in the Works of just Performers; and by exposing the weak Sides,
false Ornaments, and affected Graces of mere Pretenders. Nothing
of what we call Sophistry in Argument,or Bombast in Style; nothing
of the effeminate Kind,orof the false Tender, the pointed Witticism,
the disjointed Thought, the crouded Simile, or the mix'd Metaphor,
cou'd pass even on the common Ear: whilst the NOTARYS,
the EXPOSITORS, and PROMPTERS above-mention'd, were every
where at hand, and ready to explode the unnatural Manner.A [242]
'Tis easy to imagine, that amidst the several Styles and Manners
of Discourse or Writing, the easiest attain'd, and earliest practis'd,
was the Miraculous, the Pompous, or what we generally call
the SUBLIME. Astonishment is of all other Passions the easiest rais'd
in raw and unexperienc'd Mankind. Children in their earliest Infancy
are entertain'd in this manner: And the known way of pleasing
such as these, is to make 'em wonder, and lead the way for
'em in this Passion, by a feign'd surprize at the miraculous Objects
we set before 'em. The best Musick of Barbarians is hideous and
astonishing Sounds. And the fine Sights of Indians are enormous
Figures,various odd and glaring Colours, and whateverof that sort
is amazingly beheld, with a kind of Horror and Consternation.
In Poetry, and study'd Prose, the astonishing Part, or what commonly
passes for Sublime, is form'd by the variety of Figures, the
multiplicity of *Metaphors,A and by quitting as much as possible [243]
*   ,     .    
    ,  . . . .     
,    .   , ,  ,
 ,      .       
,   ,  .     , , 
  , . Arist. de Poet. cap. 22. [The excellence of diction is
to be clear without being mean. Clearest is the diction which is made up of usual
words, but it is mean. . . . That is majestic and free from commonplace which
uses strange words. By strange I mean out-of-the-way words, or metaphorical, or extended
in usage; in fact all which are unusual. But if a man compose in such words
150 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. the natural and easy way of Expression, for that which is most unlike
to Humanity, or ordinary Use. This the Prince of Criticks assures
us to have been the Manner of the earliest Poets, before the
Age of HOMER; or till such time as this Father-Poet came into Repute,
who depos'd that spurious Race, and gave rise to a legitimate
and genuine Kind. He retain'd only what was decent of the figurative
or metaphorick Style, introduc'd the natural and simple; and
turn'd his thoughts towards the real Beauty of Composition, the
Unity of Design, the Truth of Characters, and the just Imitation
of Nature in each particular.A[244]
The Manner of this Father-Poet was afterwards variously imitated,
and divided into several Shares; especially when it came to
be copy'd in Dramatick. TRAGEDY came first; and took what was
most solemn and sublime. In this part the Poets succeeded sooner
than in COMEDY or the facetious Kind; as was natural indeed to
only, his composition will be either a riddle or gibberish: if he compose in metaphors,
a riddle; if in out-of-the-way words, gibberish too.] This the same MasterCritick
explains further in his Rhetoricks, Lib. 3. cap. 1. where he refers to these
Passages of his Poeticks.      ,    
   ,      . * * * 
          .
 '  . * * *          
. '         ,  
            
,     . * * *       
.    ,       
. [But as the poets, while uttering simple things, were thought to have acquired
a reputation through their style, the first (rhetorical) style was poetic in character
. . . ; and even now most uneducated men think that speakers of that sort speak
best. But this is not so. . . . For not even writers of tragedy use it any longer in the
same way, but, just as they changed from tetrameter to iambic metre because the
latter is the metre most like prose, so too they have abandoned such terms as are alien
to the style of conversation . . . and even the writers of hexameters have abandoned
them. So it is absurd to copy men who themselves no longer follow this fashion.]
That among the early Reformers of this Bombastick Manner, he places HOMER as the
Chief, we may see easily in his Poeticks: as particularly in that Passage, cap. 24. 
      ,    ,  
 . * * *        . [Further,
the thoughts and the diction must be well chosen. In all these points Homer set,
and well set, the example. . . . Moreover he exceeds all in diction and thought.]
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 151
Sect. 2.suppose, since this was in reality the easiest Manner of the two,
and capable of being brought the soonest to perfection. For so the
same Prince of Criticks *sufficiently informs us. And 'tis highly
worth remarking, what this mighty Genius and Judg of Art declares
concerning TRAGEDY; that whatever Idea might be form'd
of the utmost Perfection of this kind of Poem, it cou'd in practice
rise no higher than it had been already carry'd in his time;
``Having at length (says he) attain'd its Ends, and being appar*
    ,     , &c.
[Both Tragedy and Comedy were at first improvisations merely.] De Poet. cap. 4.
When he has compar'd both this and Tragedy together, he recapitulates in his
next Chapter,      ,    , 
.   ,      , .  
      , &c. [The changes which passed over
Tragedy, and the authors of them, are known; but Comedy, because it was not at
first taken seriously, passed unnoticed. For only late did the Archon grant a comic
chorus, etc.] Cap. 5. See VOL. III. p. 139 in the Notes.
       ,   
 , &c. [And tragedy ceased making many changes since it had its own
nature.] Cap. 4. So true a Prophet as well as Critick was this great Man. For by
the Event it appear'd that Tragedy being rais'd to its height by SOPHOCLES and
EURIPIDES, and no room left for further Excellence or Emulation; there were no
more tragick Poets besides these endur'd, after the Author's time. Whilst Comedy
went on, improving still to the second and third degree; Tragedy finish'd its
course under EURIPIDES: whom, tho our great Author criticizes with the utmost
Severity in his Poeticks, yet he plainly enough confesses to have carry'd the Style
of Tragedy to its full Height and Dignity. For as to the Reformation which that
Poet made in the use of the sublime and figurative Speech, in general; see what
our discerning Author says in his Rhetoricks: where he strives to shew the Impertinence
and Nauseousness of the florid Speakers, and such as understood not the
Use of the simple and natural Manner. ``The just Masters and right Managers of the
Poetick or High Style, shou'd learn (says he) how to conceal the Manner as much as
possible.''    ,     , 
.   ,   .    
,      .    
      ,      
,  ' .  ' ,       
   ,   . [So we must do it unobserved
and have the appearance of speaking not in an affected, but in a natural
way; for the one carries conviction, the other the reverse. For (with the latter) men
are on their guard, suspecting deceit, as they would be against adulterated wines.
Your style should be like the voice of Theodorus as compared with that of other
actors; for his seemed the very voice of the character, theirs foreign to it. The trick
152 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. entlyAconsummate in it-self'': But for COMEDY, it seems, 'twas still
in hand. It had been already in some manner reduc'd: but, as he[245]
plainly insinuates, it lay yet unfinish'd; notwithstanding the witty
Labours of an ARISTOPHANES, and the other comick Poets of the
first Manner,who had flourish'd a whole Age before this Critick. As
perfect as were those Wits in Style and Language; and as fertile in
all theVarietys and Turns of Humour; yet the Truth of Characters,
the Beauty of Order, and the simple Imitation of Nature, were in
a manner wholly unknown to 'em; or thro' Petulancy, or Debauch
of AHumour,were, it seems, neglected and set aside. A MENANDER[246]
had not as yet appear'd; who arose soon after, to accomplish the
Prophecy of our grand Master of Art, and consummate Philologist.
Comedy *had at this time done little more than what the antient
Parodys had done before it. 'Twas of admirable use to explode
the false Sublime of early Poets, and such as in its own Age
were on every occasion ready to relapse into that vicious Manner.
The good Tragedians themselves cou'd hardly escape its Lashes.
The pompous Orators were its never-failing Subjects. Every thing
which might be imposing, by a false Gravity or Solemnity, was
forc'd to endure theTrial of thisTouchstone. Manners and Characters,
as well as Speech and Writings, were disAcuss'd with the great-[247]
est freedom. Nothing cou'd be better fitted than this Genius of
is successfully performed if a man make up his diction by choosing from ordinary
conversation. Euripedes does this, and first gave the suggestion.] Rhet. Lib. 3. cap. 2.
*          (  
 , '     )     
  . [And, just as Homer is especially a poet in the serious
vein (for he composed his imitations not only well, but also in dramatic form),
so too he first sketched the outline of Comedy.] Arist. Poet. cap. 4. No wonder if,
in this Descent, Comedy came late. See below, p. 253. in the Notes. And above,
p. 198.
 The PARODYS were very antient: but they were in reality no other than mere
Burlesque or Farce. COMEDY, which borrow'd something from those Humours,
as well as from the Phallica below-mention'd, was not, however, rais'd to any Form
or Shape of Art (as said above) till about the time of ARISTOPHANES, who was of
the first model, and a Beginner of the kind; at the same time that TRAGEDY had
undergone all its Changes, and was already come to its last perfection; as the grand
Critick has shewn us, and as our other Authoritys plainly evince.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 153
Sect. 2.Wit, to unmask the face of things, and remove those Larvae naturally
form'd from the Tragick Manner, and pompous Style, which
had preceded:
*(Aeschylus) taught how to use high-flown language and to
strut in the buskin. After them (Aeschylus and Thespis) came
the Old Comedy.
'TWAS not by chance that this Succession happen'd in GREECE,
after the manner describ'd; but rather thro' Necessity, and from
the Reason and Nature of Things. For in healthy Bodys, Nature
dictates Remedys of her own, and proAvides for the Cure of what [248]
has happen'd amiss in the Growth and Progress of a Constitution.The
Affairs of this free People being in the Increase; and their
Ability and Judgment every day improving, as Letters and Arts
advanc'd; they wou'd of course find in themselves a Strength of
Nature, which by the help of good Ferments, and a wholesom
opposition of Humours, wou'd correct in one way whatever was
* Et docuit magnumque loqui, nitique Cothurno.
SUCCESSIT vetus his Comoedia.
Hor. de Arte Poet.
The immediate preceding Verses of HORACE, after his having spoken of the first
Tragedy under THESPIS, are;
Post hunc personae pallaeque reperior honestae
AEschylus, & modicis instravit pulpita tignis,
Et docuit, &c.
[After him (Thespis) Aeschylus, inventor of the mask and the becoming robe, laid
his stage upon beams of moderate height, etc.] Before the time of THESPIS, Tragedy
indeed was said to be, as HORACE calls it here (in a concise way) ignotum genus. It
lay in a kind of Chaos intermix'd with other Kinds, and hardly distinguishable by its
Gravity and Pomp from the Humours which gave rise afterwards to Comedy. But
in a strict historical Sense, as we find PLATO speaking in his MINOS, Tragedy was of
antienter date, and even of the very antientest with the Athenians. His words are, 
    , ,  ,    
 .    ,       
 . [But Tragedy is quite old here and did not, as people think, begin
with Thespis or Phrynichus. But if you choose to consider, you will find it a very
old invention of this city.--Plato(?), Minos, 320 E.]
 Of this Subject see more in VOL. III. pag. 136, 7, 8, &c.
154 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. excessive, or peccant (as Physicians say) in another. Thus the florid
and over-sanguine Humour of the high Style was allay'd by something
of a contrary nature. The Comick Genius was apply'd, as a
kind of Caustick, to those Exuberances and Fungus's of the swoln
Dialect, and magnificent mannerof Speech. But aftera-while, even
this Remedy it-self was found to turn into a Disease: as Medicines,
we know, grow corrosive, when the fouler Matters on which they
wrought are sufficiently purg'd, and the Obstructions remov'd.
*Freedom slipped into License and a violence which called for
legal restraint.
'TIS a great Error to suppose, as some have done, that the restraining
this licenAtious manner of Wit, by Law, was a Violation[249]
of the Liberty of the ATHENIAN State, or an Effect merely of the
Power of Foreigners; whom it little concern'd after what manner
those Citizens treated one another in their Comedys; or what sort
of Wit or Humour they made choice of, for their ordinary Diversions.
If upon a Change of Government, as during the Usurpation
of the Thirty, or when that Nation was humbled at any time, either
by a PHILIP, an ALEXANDER, or an ANTIPATER, they had been
forc'd against their Wills, to enact such Laws as these; 'tis certain
they wou'd have soon repeaľd 'em, when those Terrors were remov'd,
as they soon were, and the People restor'd to their former
Libertys. For notwithstanding what this Nation suffer'd outwardly,
by several shocks receiv'd from foreign States; notwithstanding the
Dominion and Power they lost abroad, they preserv'd the same
Government at home. And how passionately interested they were
in what concern'd their Diversions and publick Spectacles; how
* --In vitium Libertas excidit, & Vim
Dignam Lege regi.--
Hor. de Arte Poet.
 It follows--Lex est accepta, Chorusque
Turpiter obticuit, sublato jure nocendi.
[The law was submitted to, and the chorus fell scandalously silent, because it might
not sting.]
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 155
Sect. 2.jealous and full of Emulation in what related to their Poetry,Wit,
Musick, and other Arts, in which they exceľd all other Nations;
is well known to Persons who have any comprehension of antient
Manners, or been the least conversant in History.A [250]
Nothing therefore cou'd have been the Cause of these publick
Decrees, and of this gradual Reform in the Commonwealth of Wit,
beside the real Reform of Taste and Humour in the Commonwealth
or Government it-self. Instead of any Abridgment, 'twas
in reality an Increase of Liberty, an Enlargement of the Security
of Property, and an Advancement of private Ease and personal
Safety, to provide against what was injurious to the good Name
and Reputation of every Citizen. As this Intelligence in Life and
Manners grew greater in that experienc'd People, so the Relish of
Wit and Humour wou'd naturally in proportion be more refin'd.
Thus GREECE in general grew more and more polite; and as it advanc'd
in this respect, was more averse to the obscene buffooning
manner. The ATHENIANS still went before the rest, and led the
way in Elegance of every kind. For even their first Comedy was a
Refinement upon some irregular Attempts which had been made
in that dramatick way. And the grand *Critick shews us, that in his
own time the PHALLICA, or scurrilous and obscene Farce, prevaiľd
still, and had the CounteAnance of the Magistrate, in some Citys [251]
of GREECE, who were behind the rest in this Reform of Taste and
Manners.
But what is yet a more undeniable Evidence of this natural and
gradual Refinement of Styles and Manners among the Antients,
particularly in what concern'd their Stage, is, that this very Case
of Prohibition and Restraint happen'd among the ROMANS themselves;
where no Effects of foreign Power,orof a homeTyrannycan
* Lib. de Poet. cap. 4. de Tragoediâ & Comoediâ, scilicet,     
  ,      ,      
   ,   , &c. [Tragedy began with
the leaders of the dithyrambic songs; Comedy with the leaders of the Phallic songs
which are still customary in many cities, [and little by little have been expanded].--
Arist. Poet. IV.]
156 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. be pretended. Their FESCENNIN, and ATELLAN way of Wit, was
in early days prohibited, and Laws made against it, for the Publick's
sake, and in regard to the Welfare of the Community: such Licentiousness
having been found in reality contrary to the just Liberty
of the People.
*Men were vexed when bitten by its bloody teeth; the unbitten
too were anxious for the common weal; and even a law
and penalty were enacted against libelling any one in verse.
In defense of what I have here advanc'd, I cou'd, besides the Authority
of Agrave Historians and Chronologists, produce the Tes-[252]
timony of one of the wisest, and most serious of antient Authors;
whose single Authority wou'd be acknowledg'd to have equal force
with that of many concurring Writers. He shews us that this first*
Doluere cruento
Dente lacessiti: fuit intactis quoque Cura
CONDITIONE super COMMUNI. Quin etiam Lex
Poenaque lata malo quae nollet Carmine quemquam
Describi.
Hor. Epist. 1. lib. 2.
 To confirm what is said of this natural Succession of Wit and Style, according
to the several Authoritys above-cited in the immediate preceding Notes; see
STRABO, Lib. 1.   ,   ,   ,  
           
.   ,   , '   
 ,    ,  ,    
,     ,     ,   
 .           
 ,          
. [In fact, prose speech when carefully wrought is an imitation of poetic.
For in the first instance poetic style came forward and gained a name, and then
Cadmus, Pherecydes, or Hecataeus wrote in imitation thereof, giving up the metre,
but keeping other poetic features. Later writers afterwards, dropping these point by
point, brought the style down as if from a height to the present form, just as we
might say that Comedy sprang from Tragedy by being brought down from Tragedy
and its elevation to what is now called prosaic.--Strabo, i. p. 18.]
       ,  
   ,       , 
     . * * * *     
  ,   ,   
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 157
Sect. 2.form'd Comedy and Scheme of ludicrous Wit, was introduc'd upon
the neck of the SUBLIME. The familiarairy Musewas privileg'd as a
sort of Counter-Pedagogue, against the Pomp and Formality of the
more solemn Writers. And what is highly remarkable, our AuthorA [253]
shews us, that in Philosophy it-self there happen'd, almost at the
very same time, a like Succession of Wit and Humour; when in
opposition to the sublime Philosopher, and afterwards to his*grave
Disciple and Successor in the Academy, there arose a Comick Philosophy,
in the Person of another Master and other Disciples; who
personally, as well as in their Writings, were set in direct opposition
to the former: not as differing in Opinions or Maxims, but
in their Style and Manner; in the Turn of Humour, and method
of Instruction.
'TIS PLEASANT enough to consider how exact the resemblance
was between the Lineage of Philosophy and that of Poetry; as deriv'd
from their two chief Founders or Patriarchs; in whose Loins the
          
  .      ,    ,
&c. . . . . [First, tragedies were brought out to remind you of what
happens, and to remind you that events naturally happen thus, and that when a
thing has amused you on the stage, you must not be shocked at it on the larger
stage. . . . And after Tragedy the Old Comedy was brought out, using the freedom
of a teacher, and usefully warning us by its plain speech against pride. (For some
such purpose used Diogenes to borrow these points.) After this, observe what was
the Middle Comedy and the New, etc.--Marcus Aurelius, xi. 6.]
      ,      
,  ,     ,   ,
'  , .     .  
     ,   . 
  ,      . Id. . . [In this way we
must act all through life, and where things seem most worthy of trust we must strip
them and see their poorness, and get rid of the claptrap of which they are so proud.
For pride is a great deceiver, and when you think you are most occupied with serious
things, then it takes you in most. See at all events what Crates says even of
Xenocrates.--Mar. Aur. vi. 13.]
* See the Citations immediately preceding.
 Tunicâ distantia--Juv. Sat. 13. ver. 222. [The difference being one of dress only.]
158 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. several Races lay as it were inclos'd. For as the *grand poetick SIRE
was, by the consent of all Antiquity, allow'd to have furnish'd
Subject both to the Tragick, the Comick, and every other kind of
genuine Poetry;Aso the philosophical PATRIARCH, in the same man-[254]
ner, containing within himself the several Genius's of Philosophy,
gave rise to all those several Manners in which that Science was
deliver'd.
His Disciple of noble Birth and lofty Genius, who aspir'd to
Poetry and Rhetorick, took the Sublime part, and shone above
his other Condisciples. He of mean Birth, and poorest Circumstances,whose
Constitution as well as Condition inclin'd him most
to the way we call Satirick, took the reproving part, which in his
better-humour'd and more agreeable Successor, turn'd into the
Comick kind, and went upon the Model of that antient Comedy
which was then prevalent. But another noble Disciple, whose
* See above page 246. in the Notes. According to this HOMERICAL Lineage of
Poetry, Comedy wou'd naturally prove the Drama of latest Birth. For tho ARISTOTLE,
in the same place, cites HOMER's Margites as analogous to Comedy, yet the
Iliad and Odyssee, in which the heroick Style prevails, having been ever highest in
esteem, were likeliest to be first wrought and cultivated.
 His Dialogues were real POEMS (as has been shewn above, pag. 193, &c.).
This may easily be collected from the Poeticks of the grand Master. We may add
what is cited by ATHENAEUS from another Treatise of that Author.   
  ,      ,   -
 ,   []    ,   
'   .    '       
       . [ is how it reads
in Athenaeus's actual text, as found in the Loeb edition.--ES]    
    ``     -
 ,      ,     
     ;''    -
       .
Athen. Lib. 11. [(Plato) the man who vilified others in general, who while in his Republic
he rejected Homer and imitative poetry, himself wrote dialogues in imitative
style. Yet he did not invent that style. For Alexamenos of Teos thought of it before
him, as Nicias of Nicaea and Sotion say. Aristotle too writes thus in his book on
Poets: ``Therefore we must not say that the so-called mimes of Sophron are metrical
dialogues or imitations, or the dialogues of Alexamenos of Teos, which were the
earliest written of the Socratic dialogues.'']
 According to the two last Citations, pag. 252.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 159
Sect. 2.Genius was towards Action, and who prov'd afterwards theA greatest
Hero of his time took the genteeler Part, and softer Manner. [255]
He join'd what was deepest and most solid in Philosophy, with
what was easiest and most refin'd in Breeding, and in the Character
and Manner of a Gentleman. Nothing cou'd be remoter than his
Genius was, from the scholastick, the rhetorical, or mere poetick
kind. He was as distant, on one hand, from the sonorous, high,
and pompous Strain; as, on the other hand, from the ludicrous,
mimical, or satirick.
This *was that natural and simple Genius of Antiquity, comprehended
by so few, and so little relish'd by the Vulgar.This was that
philosophical MENANDER of earlier Time, whose Works one may
wonder to see preserv'd from the same Fate; since in the darker
Ages thro' which they pass'd, they might probably be alike neglected,
on the account of their like Simplicity of Style and Com-
position.
There is, besides the several Manners of Writing above describ'd,
another of considerable Authority and Weight, which had its rise
chiefly from the critical Art itself, and from the more accurate Inspection
into the Works of preceding Masters. The grand Critick,
of whom we haveA already spoken, was a Chief and Leader in this [256]
Orderof Pen-men. For tho the SOPHISTS of elder time had treated
many Subjects methodically, and in form; yet this Writer was the
first who gain'd Repute in the methodick kind. As the Talent of this
great Man was more towards polite Learning, and the Arts, than
towards the deep and solid parts of Philosophy, it happen'd that
in his School there was more care taken of other Sciences, than of
Ethicks, Dialect, or Logick; which Provinces were chiefly cultivated
by the Successors of the Academy and Porch.
It has been observ'd of this methodick or scholastick Manner, that
it naturally befitted an Author, who, tho endow'd with a comprehensive
and strong Genius, was not in himself of a refin'd Temper,
bless'd by the Graces, or favour'd by any Muse; one who was
* VOL. III. p. 248.
160 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. not of a fruitful Imagination, but rather dry and rigid; yet withal
acute and piercing, accurate and distinct. For the chief Nerve and
Sinew of this Style consists in the clear Division and Partition of
the Subjects.Tho there is nothing exalting in the Manner, 'tis naturally
powerful and commanding; and, more than any other, subdues
the Mind, and strengthens its Determinations. 'Tis from this
Genius that firm Conclusions and steddy Maxims are best form'd:
which, if solidly built, andAon sure ground, are the shortest and[257]
best Guides towards Wisdom and Ability, in every kind; but if defective,
or unsound, in the least part, must of necessity lead us to
the grossest Absurditys, and stiffest Pedantry and Conceit.
Now tho everyother Style and genuine Mannerof Composition
has its Orderand Method, as well as this which, in a peculiar sense,
we call the Methodick; yet it is this Manner alone which professes
Method, dissects it-self in Parts, and makes its own Anatomy. The
Sublime can nowaycondescend thus,or bear to be suspended in its
impetuous Course. The Comick, orderisory Manner, is further still
from making shew of Method. 'Tis then, if ever, that it presumes
to give it-self this wise Air, when its Design is to expose the Thing
it-self, and ridicule the Formality and Sophistry so often shelter'd
beneath it. The Simple Manner, which being the strictest Imitation
of Nature, shou'd of right be the completest, in the Distribution
of its Parts, and Symmetry of its Whole, is yet so far from making
any ostentation of Method, that it conceals the Artifice as much as
possible: endeavouring only to express the effect of Art, under the
appearance of the greatest Ease and Negligence. And even when
it assumes the censuring or reproving part,A it does it in the most[258]
conceaľd and gentle way.
The Authors indeed of our Age are as little capable of receiving,
as of giving Advice, in such a way as this: So little is the general
Palat form'd, as yet, to a Taste of real SIMPLICITY. As for the
SUBLIME, tho it be often the Subject of Criticism; it can never be
the Manner, or afford the Means.The Way of Form and METHOD,
the didactive or preceptive Manner, as it has been usually practis'd
amongst us, and as our Ears have been long accustom'd, has so little
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 161
Sect. 2.force towards the winning our Attention, that it is apter to tire us,
than the Metre of an old Ballad.We no sooner hear the Theme propounded,
the Subject divided and subdivided, (with first of the first,
and so forth, as Order requires) than instantly we begin a Strife
with Nature, who otherwise might surprize us in the soft Fetters of
Sleep; to the great Disgrace of the Orator, and Scandal of the Audience.
The only Manner left, in which Criticism can have its just
Force amongst us, is the antient COMICK; of which kind were the
first Roman Miscellanys, or Satirick Pieces: a sort of original Writing
of theirown, refin'd afterwards by the best Genius, and politest
Poet of that Nation; who, notwithstanding, owns the MannerAto [259]
have been taken from the Greek Comedy above-mention'd. And if
our Home-Wits wou'd refine upon this Pattern, they might perhaps
meet with considerable Success.
In effect,we mayobserve, that in ourown Nation, the most successful
Criticism, or Method of Refutation, is that which borders
most on the manner of the earliest Greek Comedy. The highlyrated
*burlesque Poem, written on the Subject of our religious
Controversys in the last Age, is a sufficient Token of this kind.
And that justly-admir'd Piece of ComickWit, given us some time
after by an Author of the highest Quality, has furnish'd our best
Wits in all their Controversys, even in Religion and Politicks, as
well as in the Affairs of Wit and Learning, with the most effectual
and entertaining Method of exposing Folly, Pedantry, false Reason,
and ill Writing. And without some such tolerated manner of
Criticism as this, how grosly we might have been impos'd on, and
shou'd continue to be, for the future, by many Pieces of dogmatical
Rhetorick, and pedantick Wit, may easily be apprehended by
those who know any thing of the State of Letters in our NaAtion, or [260]
are in the least fitted to judg of the Manner of the common Poets,
or formal Authors of the Times.
In what Form, or Manner soever, Criticism may appear amongst
* HUDIBRAS.
 The REHEARSAL. See VOL. III. p. 277. in the Notes, and Ibid. p. 281.
162 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. us, or CRITICKS chuse to exert their Talent; it can become none
besides the grosly superstitious, or ignorant, to be alarm'd at this
Spirit. For if it be ill manag'd, and with little Wit; it will be destroy'd
by something wittier in the kind: If it be witty it-self, it
must of necessity advance Wit.
And thus from the Consideration of antient as well as modern
Time, it appears that the Cause and Interest of CRITICKS is the
same with that of Wit, Learning, and good Sense.
S E C T I O N I I I
THUS we have survey'd the State of Authors, as they are influenc'd
from without; either by the Frowns or Favour of the
Great, or by the Applause or Censure of the Criticks. It remains
only to consider, how the PEOPLE, or World, in general, stand affected
towards our modern Pen-men; and what occasion these Adventurers
may have of Complaint, orABoast, from their Encounter[261]
with the PUBLICK.
There is nothing more certain, than that a real Genius, and
thorow Artist, in whatever kind, can never, without the greatest
unwillingness and shame, be induc'd to act below his Character,
and for mere Interest be prevaiľd with to prostitute his Art or Science,
by performing contrary to its known Rules. Whoever has
heard any thing of the Lives of famous Statuarys, Architects, or
Painters, will call to mind many Instances of this nature. Or whoever
has made any acquaintance with the better sort of Mechanicks,
such as are real Lovers of their Art, and Masters in it, must
have observ'd their natural Fidelity in this respect. Be they ever so
idle, dissolute, or debauch'd; how regardless soever of other Rules;
they abhor any Transgression in their Art, and wou'd chuse to lose
Customers and starve, rather than by a base Compliance with the
WORLD, to act contrary to what they call the Justness and Truth
of Work.
``Sir,'' (says a poor Fellow of this kind, to his rich Customer)
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 163
Sect. 3.``you are mistaken in coming to me, for such a piece of Workmanship.
Let who will make it for you, as you fansy; I know it to be
wrong. Whatever I have made hitherAto, has been true Work. And [262]
neither for your sake or any body's else, shall I put my hand to
any other.''
This is Virtue! real Virtue, and Love of Truth; independent of
Opinion, and above the WORLD. This Disposition transfer'd to the
whole of Life, perfects a Character, and makes that Probity and
Worth which the Learned are often at such a loss to explain. For is
there not a Workmanship and a Truth in ACTIONS? Or is the Workmanship
of this kind less becoming, or less worthy our notice; that
we shou'd not in this case be as surly at least as the honest Artizan,
who has no other Philosophy, than what Nature and his Trade have
taught him?
When one considers this Zeal and Honesty of inferiour Artists,
one wou'd wonder to see those who pretend to Skill and Science
in a higher kind, have so little regard to Truth, and the Perfection
of their Art. One wou'd expect it of our Writers, that if they had
real Ability, they shou'd draw the WORLD to them; and not meanly
sute themselves to the WORLD, in its weak State.We may justly indeed
make allowances for the Simplicity of those early Genius's of
our Nation, who after so many barbarous Ages, when Letters lay
yet in their Ruins, made bold Excursions into aA vacant Field, to [263]
seize the Posts of Honour, and attain the Stations which were yet
unpossess'd by the Wits of their own Country. But since the Age
is now so far advanc'd; Learning establish'd; the Rules of Writing
stated; and the Truth of Art so well apprehended, and every where
confess'd and own'd: 'tis strange to see our Writers as unshapen still
and monstrous in theirWorks, as heretofore.There can be nothing
more ridiculous than to hear our POETS, in their Prefaces, talk of
Art and Structure; whilst in their Pieces they perform as ill as ever,
and with as little regard to those profess'd Rules of Art, as the honest
BARDS, their Predecessors, who had never heard of any such
Rules, or at least had never own'd their Justice or Validity.
Had the early Poets of GREECE thus complimented their
164 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. Nation, by complying with its first Relish and Appetite; they had
not done their Countrymen such Service, nor themselves such
Honour as we find they did, by conforming to Truth and Nature.
The generous Spirits who first essay'd the Way, had not always the
WORLD on their side: but soon drew after 'em the best Judgments;
and soon afterwards the WORLD it-self.They forc'd their way into
it, and by weight of Merit turn'd its Judgment on theirAside. They[264]
form'd their Audience; polish'd the Age; refin'd the publick Ear,
and fram'd it right; that in return they might be rightly and lastingly
applauded. Nor were they disappointed in their Hope. The
Applause soon came, and was lasting; for it was found. They have
Justice done them at this day.They have surviv'd their Nation; and
live, tho in a dead Language. The more the Age is enlighten'd, the
more they shine. Their Fame must necessarily last as long as Letters;
and Posterity will ever own their Merit.
Our modern Authors, on the contrary, are turn'd and modeľd
(as themselves confess) by the publick Relish, and current Humour
of the Times. They regulate themselves by the irregular Fancy of
the World; and frankly own they are preposterous and absurd, in
order to accommodate themselves to the Genius of the Age. In our
Days the Audience makes the Poet; and the Bookseller the Author:
with what Profit to the Publick, or what Prospect of lasting Fame
and Honour to the Writer, let any one who has Judgment imagine.
But tho our Writers charge their Faults thus freely on the PUBLICK;
it will, I doubt, appear from many Instances, that this Practice
is mere Imposture:Asince those Absurditys, which they are apt-[265]
est to commit, are far from being delightful or entertaining.We are
glad to take upwith what our Language can afford us; and bya sort
of Emulation with other Nations, are forc'd to cry up such Writers
of our own, as may best serve us for Comparison. But when we
are out of this Spirit, it must be own'd, we are not apt to discover
any great Fondness or Admiration of our Authors. Nor have we
any, whom by mutual Consent we make to be our Standard. We
go to Plays, or to other Shows; and frequent the Theater, as the
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 165
Sect. 3.Booth. We read Epicks and Dramaticks, as we do Satirs and Lampoons.
For we must of necessity know what Wit as well as what
Scandal is stirring. Read we must; let Writers be ever so indifferent.
And this perhaps may be some occasion of the Laziness and
Negligence of our Authors; who observing this Need, which our
Curiosity brings on us, and making an exact Calculation in the
way of Trade, to know justly the Quality and Quantity of the publick
Demand, feed us thus from hand to mouth; resolving not to
over-stock the Market, or be at the pains of more Correctness or
Wit than is absolutely necessary to carry on the Traffick.A [266]
Our Satir therefore is scurrilous, buffooning, and without Morals
or Instruction, which is the Majesty and Life of this kind of
writing. Our ENCOMIUM or PANEGYRICK is as fulsom and displeasing,
by its prostitute and abandon'd manner of Praise. The
worthy Persons who are the Subjects of it, may well be esteem'd
Sufferers by the Manner. And the Publick, whether it will or no, is
forc'd to make untoward Reflections, when led to it by such satirizing
Panegyrists. For in reality the Nerve and Sinew of modern
Panegyrick lies in a dull kind of Satir; which the Author, iťs true,
intends shou'd turn to the advantage of his Subject; but which, if
I mistake not, will appear to have a very contrary Effect.
The usual Method, which our Authors take, when they wou'd
commend either a Brother-Author, a Wit, a Hero, a Philosopher, or
a Statesman, is to look abroad, to find within the narrow compass
of their Learning, some eminent Names of Persons, who answer'd
to these Characters in a former time.These they are sure to lash, as
they imagine,with some sharp stroke of Satir. And when they have
stripp'd these reverend Personages of all their share of Merit, they
think to clotheA their Hero with the Spoils. Such is the Sterility of [267]
these Encomiasts! They know not how to praise, but by Detraction.
If a Fair-One is to be celebrated, HELEN must in comparison be
deform'd; VENUS her-self degraded. That a Modern may be honour'd,
some Antient must be sacrific'd. If a Poet is to be extoľd;
down with a HOMER or a PINDAR. If an Orator, or Philosopher;
166 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. down with DEMOSTHENES, TULLY, PLATO. If a General of our
Army; down with any Hero whatever of Time past. ``The Romans
knew no Discipline! The Grecians never learnt the Art of War!''
Were there an Art of Writing to be form'd upon the modern
Practice; this Method we have describ'd might perhaps be styľd the
Rule of Dispatch, or the HERCULEAN Law; by which Encomiasts,
with no other Weapon than their single Club, may silence all other
Fame, and place their Hero in the vacant Throne of Honour. I
wou'd willingly however advise these Celebrators to be a little more
moderate in the use of this Club-method. Not that I pretend to
ask quarter for the Antients. But for the sake merely of those Moderns,
whom our Panegyrists undertake to praise, I wou'd wish 'em
to be a little cautious of comparing Characters.There is no need to
call up a PUBLIACOLA, or a SCIPIO, an ARISTIDES, or a CATO,[268]
to serve as Foils. These were Patriots and good Generals in their
time, and did their Country honest service. No offence to any who
at present do the same. The FABRICIUS'S, the AEMILIUS'S, the
CINCINNATUS's (poor Men!) may be suffer'd to rest quietly: or
if their Ghosts shou'd, by this unlucky kind of Inchantment, be
rais'd in Mockeryand Contempt; they may perhaps prove troublesom
in earnest, and cast such Reflections on our Panegyrists, and
their modern Patrons, as may be no-way for the advantage of either.
The well-deserving Antients will have always a strong Party among
the Wise and Learned of every Age. And the Memory of foreign
Worthys, as well as those of our own Nation, will with gratitude
be cherish'd by the nobler Spirits of Mankind. The Interest of the
Dead is not so disregarded, but that in case of violence offer'd 'em,
thro' partiality to the Living, there are Hands ready prepar'd to
make sufficient Reprisals.
'Twas in times when Flattery grew much in fashion, that the
Title of Panegyrick was appropriated to such Pieces as contain'd
only a profuse and unlimited Praise of some single Person.The antient
Panegyricks were no other than mereAly such Writings, as Au-[269]
thors of every kind recited at the solemn Assemblys of the People.
They were the Exercises of the Wits, and Men of Letters, who, as
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 167
Sect. 3.well as the Men of bodily Dexterity, bore their part at the Olympick,
and other National and Panegyrick Games.
The British Nation, tho they have nothing of this kind ordain'd
or establish'd by their Laws, are yet by Nature wonderfully inclin'd
to the same Panegyrick Exercises. At their Fairs, and during the
time of publick Festivals, they perform their rude Olympicks, and
shew an Activity, and Address, beyond any other modern People
whatever. Their Trials of Skill, iťs true, are wholly of the Body, not
of the Brain. Nor is it to be wonder'd at, if being left to themselves,
and no way assisted by the Laws or Magistrate, their bodily Exercises
retain something of the Barbarian Character, or, at least,
shew their *ManAners to hold more of ROME than GREECE. The [270]
* Whoever has a thorow Taste of the Wit and Manner of HORACE, if he only
compares his Epistle to AUGUSTUS (lib. 2.) with the secret Character of that Prince
from SUETONIUS and other Authors, will easily find what Judgment that Poet made
of the Roman Taste, even in the Person of his sovereign and admir'd Roman Prince;
whose natural Love of Amphitheatrical Spectacles, and other Entertainments (little
accommodated to the Interest of the Muses) is there sufficiently insinuated. The
Prince indeed was (as 'tis said above, p. 220.) oblig'd in the highest degree to his
poetical and witty Friends, for guiding his Taste, and forming his Manners; as they
really did, with good effect, and great advantage to his Interest.Witness what even
that flattering Court-Historian, DION, relates of the frank Treatment which that
Prince receiv'd from his Friend MAECENAS; who was forc'd to draw him from his
bloody Tribunal, and murderous Delight, with the Reproach of Surge ver tandem,
Carnifex! [Rise up at last, Death-dealer!] But HORACE, according to his Character
and Circumstances, was oblig'd to take a finer and more conceaľd Manner, both
with the Prince and Favourite.
Omne vafer vitium ridenti FLACCUS amico
Tangit, & admissus circum praecordia ludit.
Pers. Sat. 1.
[Roguish Horace makes his friend laugh, yet probes every fault, and, never refused
admission, plays about his inmost feelings.] See below, VOL. III. p. 249. in
the Notes.
 We may add to this Note what TACITUS or QUINTILIAN remarks on the Subject
of the Roman Taste: Jam ver propria & peculiaria hujus Urbis vitia poen in
utero matris concipi mihi videntur, histrionalis favor, & gladiatorum equorumque studia:
quibus occupatus & obsessus animus quantulum loci bonis artibus relinquit? [Now
the particular and characteristic vices of our city seem to me to be taken up almost
in our mother's womb, the enthusiasm for actors and the eagerness for gladiators
and horse races.] Dial. de Oratoribus, cap. 29.
168 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. Gladiatorian, and other sanguinary Sports, which we allow our
People, discover sufficiently our National Taste. And the Baitings
and Slaughter of so many sorts of Creatures, tame as well as wild,
for Diversion merely, may witness the extraordinary Inclination
we have for Amphitheatrical Spectacles.
I know not whether it be from this killing Disposition, remark'd
in us, that our Satirists prove such very Slaughter-men; and even
our Panegyrick Authors, or Encomiasts, delight so much in the dispatching
Method above describ'd: ButA sure I am, that our *dra-[271]
matick Poets stand violently affected this way; and delight to make
Havock and Destruction of every kind.
'Tis alledg'd indeed by our Stage-Poets, in excuse for vile Ribaldryand
other gross Irregularitys, both in the Fable and Language
of their Pieces; that their Success, which depends chiefly on the
Ladys, is never so fortunate, as when this Havock is made onVirtue
and good Sense, and their Pieces are exhibited publickly in this
monstrous Form. I know not how they can answer it to the Fair
Sex, to speak (as they pretend) experimentally, and with such nice
distinction of their Audience. How far this Excuse may serve 'em
in relation to common Amours and Love-Adventures, I will not take
upon me to pronounce. But I must own, I have often wonder'd to
see our *fighting Plays become so much the Entertainment of that
tender Sex.
They who have no help from Learning to observe thewider Periods
or Revolutions of human Kind, the Alterations which happen
in Manners, and the Flux and Reflux of Politeness,Wit, and Art;
are apt at every turn to make the presentAAge their Standard, and[272]
imagine nothing barbarous or savage, but what is contrary to the
Manners of their own Time.The same pretended Judges, had they
flourish'd in our BRITAIN at the time when CAESAR made his first
Descent, wou'd have condemn'd, as a whimsical Critick, the Man
who shou'd have made bold to censure our deficiency of Clothing,
and laugh at the blue Cheeks and party-colour'd Skins which were
* VOL. III. p. 256.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 169
Sect. 3.then in fashion with our Ancestors. Such must of necessity be the
Judgment of those who are only Criticks by fashion. But to a just
Naturalist or Humanist, who knows the Creature MAN, and judges
of his Growth and Improvement in Society, it appears evidently
that we British Men were as barbarous and unciviliz'd in respect
of the Romans under a CAESAR, as the Romans themselves were in
respect of the Grecians, when they invaded that Nation under a
MUMMIUS.
The noble Wits of a Court-Education, who can go no farther
back into Antiquity than their Pedegree will carry 'em, are able
however to call to mind the different State of Manners in some few
Reigns past, when Chivalry was in such repute. The Ladys were
then Spectators not onlyof feign'd Combats and martial Exercises,
but of real Duels and bloody Feats of Arms. They sat as Umpires
and Judges of theAdoughty Frays.Thesewere the Saint-Protectrices, [273]
to whom the Champions chiefly paid their Vows, and to whom
they recommended themselves by these galante Quarrels, and elegant
Decisions of Right and Justice. Nor is this Spirit so entirely
lost amongst us, but that even at this hour the Fair Sex inspire us
still with the Fancy of like Gallantrys.They are the chief Subject of
many such civil Turmoils, and remain still the secret influencing
Constellation by which we are engag'd to give and ask that Satisfaction,
which is peculiar to the fine Gentlemen of the Age. For thus
a certain Galante of our Court express'd the Case very naturally,
when being ask'd by his Friends, why one of his establish'd Character
for Courage and good Sense, wou'd answer the Challenge of
a Coxcomb; he confess'd, ``That for his own Sex, he cou'd safely
trust their Judgment: But how shou'd he appear at night before the
Maids of Honour?''
Such is the different Genius of Nations; and of the same Nation
in different Times and Seasons. For so among the Antients, some
have been known tender of the *Sex to such a degree, as notAto suf- [274]
* Contra, ea pleraque nostris moribus sunt decora, quae apud illos turpia putantur.
Quem enim ROMANORUM pudet uxorem ducere in convivium? Aut cujus mater-
170 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. fer 'em to expose their Modesty, by the View of Masculine Games,
or Theatrical Representations of any kind whatever. Others, on
the contrary, have introduc'd them into their Amphitheaters, and
made 'em Sharers in the cruellest Spectacles.
But let our Authors or Poets complain ever so much of the
Genius of our People, 'tis evident, we are not altogether so Barbarous
or Gothick as they pretend. We are naturally no ill Soil; and
have musical Parts which might be cultivated with great advantage,
if these Gentlemen wou'd use the Art of Masters in their Composition.
They have power to work upon our better Inclinations, andA[275]
may know by certain Tokens, that their Audience is dispos'd to refamilias
non primum locum tenet aedium, atque in celebritate versatur? quod multo
fit aliter in GRAECIA. Nam neque in convivium adhibetur, nisi propinquorum, neque
sedet, nisi in interiore parte aedium, quae gynaeconitis appellatur: quo nemo accedit, nisi
propinquâ cognatione conjunctus. [Whereas many things are respectable according
to our customs which the Greeks think disreputable. For what Roman is ashamed
to take his wife to a dinner-party? or who is there whose wife does not occupy the
first place in the house and go into society? Things are very different in Greece.
For a lady does not appear at a dinner-party except at a dinner of relations, nor
does she sit anywhere but in the back of the house, in what is called the gynaeconitis,
to which none but relations have admission.] CORN. NEP. in Praefat. See also
AELIAN, Cap. 1. Lib. 10. and the Law in PAUSANIAS, Lib. 5. Cap. 6. and the Story
of AELIAN better related, as to the Circumstances. Hinc de saxo Foeminas dejicere
Lex jubet, quae ad Olympicos Ludos penetrasse deprehensae fuerint, vel quae omnino
Alpheum transmiserint, quibus est eis interdictum diebus: Non tamen deprehensam esse
ullam perhibent praeter unam Callipatiram, quam alii Pherenicem nominant. Haec,
viro mortuo, cum virili ornatu exercitationum se Magistrum simulans, Pisidorum filium
in certamen deduxit; jamque eo vincente, sepimentum id, quo Magistros seclusos habent,
transiluit veste amissâ. Inde Foeminam agnitam omni crimine liberârunt. Datum hoc ex
Judicum aequitate Patris, Fratrum, & Filii gloriae; qui omnes ex Olympicis Ludis victores
abierant. Ex eo lege sancitum, ut nudati adessent ludis ipsi etiam Magistri. [Therefore
the Elean law bids hurl from a rock women who are caught at the Olympic
Games, or who have even crossed the river Alphaeus on the forbidden days.Yet they
say no one was ever caught except a certain Callipatira or Pherenice. She, after the
death of her husband, took her son Pisidorus to the games, dressed as a man and
pretending to be his trainer; and when he won, she jumped the rope which shuts
off trainers and dropped her cloak. Then when she was seen to be a woman, she was
acquitted by the indulgence of the stewards in honour of her father, her brothers,
and her son, all of whom had won prizes at the Olympic Games. But after that a
law was passed that trainers too must attend the games uncloaked.--Shaftesbury
has chosen to quote Pausanias in a Latin version.]
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 171
Sect. 3.ceive nobler Subjects, and taste a better Manner, than that which,
thro' indulgence to themselves more than to the World, they are
generally pleas'd to make their choice.
Besides some laudable Attempts which have been made with
tolerable Success, of late years, towards a just manner of Writing,
both in the heroick and familiar Style; we have older Proofs of
a right Disposition in our People towards the moral and instructive
Way. Our *old dramatick Poet may witness for our good Ear
and manly Relish. Notwithstanding his natural Rudeness, his unpolish'd
Style, his antiquated Phrase and Wit, his want of Method
and Coherence, and his Deficiency in almost all the Graces and
Ornaments of this kind of Writings; yet by the Justness of his
MORAL, the Aptness of many of his Descriptions, and the plain
and natural Turn of several of his Characters, he pleases his Audience,
and often gains their Ear,without a single Bribe from Luxury
or Vice. That Piece of his, which appears to have most affected
English Hearts, and has perhaps been oftnest acted of any which
have come upon our Stage, is almost one continu'd Moral;Aa Series [276]
of deep Reflections, drawn from one Mouth, upon the Subject of
one single Accident and Calamity, naturally fitted to move Horror
and Compassion. It may be properly said of this Play, if I mistake
not, that it has only ONE Character or principal Part. It contains
no Adoration or Flattery of the Sex: no ranting at the Gods: no blustring
Heroism: nor any thing of that curious mixture of the Fierce
and Tender, which makes the hinge of modern Tragedy, and nicely
varies it between the Points of Love and Honour.
Upon the whole: since in the two great poetick Stations, the
Epick and Dramatick, we may observe the moral Genius so naturally
prevalent: since our most approv'd heroick Poem has neither
the Softness of Language, nor the fashionable Turn of Wit; but
merely solid Thought, strong Reasoning, noble Passion, and a con*
SHAKESPEAR.
 The Tragedy of HAMLET.
 MILTON's Paradise Lost.
172 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. tinu'd Thred of moral Doctrine, Piety, and Virtue to recommend
it; we may justly infer, that it is not so much the publick Ear, as
the ill Hand and vitious Manner of our Poets, which need redress.
AND thus, at last, we are return'd to our old Article of ADVICE;
that main Preliminary of Self-study and inward ConAverse, which we[277]
have found so much wanting in the Authors of our Time. They
shou'd add theWisdom of the Heart to theTask and Exercise of the
Brain, in order to bring Proportion and Beauty into their Works.
That their Composition and Vein of Writing may be natural and
free, they shou'd settle matters, in the first place, with themselves.
And having gain'd a Mastery here; they may easily, with the help
of their Genius, and a right use of Art, command their Audience,
and establish a good Taste.
'Tis on Themselves, that all depends. We have consider'd their
other Subjects of Excuse. We have acquitted the GREAT MEN,
their presumptive Patrons; whom we have left to their own Discretion.We
have prov'd the CRITICKS not only an inoffensive, but
highly useful Race. And for the AUDIENCE, we have found it not
so bad as might perhaps at first be apprehended.
It remains that we pass Sentence on our Authors; after having
precluded 'em their last Refuge. Nor do we condemn 'em on their
want of Wit or Fancy; but of Judgment and Correctness; which can
only be attain'd by thorow Diligence, Study, and impartial Censure
of themselves. 'TisA *MANNERS which is wanting, 'Tis a due Sen-[278]
timent of MORALS which alone can make us knowing in Order
and Proportion, and give us the just Tone and Measure of human
Passion.
So much the Poet must necessarily borrow of the Philosopher, as
to be Master of the common TOPICKS of Morality. He must at
least be speciously honest, and in all appearance a Friend to Virtue,
thro'out his Poem. The Good and Wise will abate him nothing in
* Supra, pag. 208. & Infra, p. 337, 350, 351. in the Notes. And VOL. III. p. 247,
248, 249, 273, 282.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 173
Sect. 1.this kind. And the People, tho corrupt, are, in the main, best satisfy'd
with this Conduct.
Sometimes a play if it is embellished with sentiments and
welldrawn as to its characters, though it has no grace, no
weight of language, no art, delights the people more and
keeps theirattention better than verses with little in them and
well-rounded trifles.3 A [279]
PART III
S E C T I O N I
'
TIS esteem'd the highest Compliment which can be paid a
Writer, on the occasion of some newWork he has made publick,
to tell him, ``That he has undoubtedly surpass'd HIMSELF.''
And indeed when one observes how well this Compliment is receiv'd,
one wou'd imagine it to contain some wonderful Hyperbole
of Praise. For according to the Strain of modern Politeness; 'tis not
an ordinary Violation of Truth, which can afford a Tribute sufficient
to answer any common degree of Merit. Now 'tis well known
that the Gentlemen whose Merit lies towards Authorship, are unwilling
to make the least abatement on the foot of this Ceremonial.
One wou'd wonder therefore to find 'em so entirely satisfy'd with
a Form of Praise, which in plain sense amounts to no more than
a bare Affirmative, ``That they have in some manner differ'd from
themselves, and areA become somewhat worse or better, than their [280]
common rate.'' For if the vilest Writer grows viler than ordinary, or
3 Speciosa LOCIS, morataque rect
Fabula, nullius veneris, sine pondere & arte,
Valdius oblectat populum, meliusque moratur,
Qum versus inopes rerum, nugaeque canorae. Hor. de Arte Poet.
174 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. exceeds his natural pitch on either side, he is justly said to exceed,
or go beyond himself.
We find in the same manner, that there is no expression more
generally us'd in a way of Compliment to great Men and Princes,
than that plain one, which is so often verify'd, and may be safely
pronounc'd for Truth, on most occasions; ``That they have acted
like themselves, and sutably to their own Genius and Character.''
The Compliment, it must be own'd, sounds well. No one suspects
it. For what Person is there who in his Imagination joins not something
worthy and deserving with his true and native SELF, as oft
as he is refer'd to it, and made to consider, Who he is? Such is the
natural Affection of all Mankind towards moral Beauty and Perfection,
that they never fail in making this Presumption in behalf
of themselves: ``That by Nature they have something estimable and
worthy in respect of others of their Kind; and that their genuine,
true, and natural SELF, is, as it ought to be, of real value in Society,
and justly honourable for the sake of its Merit, and good Qualitys.''
They conclude therefore they have the height of Praise allotted
'em,Awhen they are assur'd by any-one, that they have done noth-[281]
ing below themselves, or that in some particular Action, they have
exceeded the ordinary Tenor of their Character.
Thus is every-one convinc'd of the Reality of a better SELF, and
of the Cult or Homage which is due to It. The misfortune is, we
are seldom taught to comprehend this Self, by placing it in a distinct
View from its Representative or Counterfeit. In our holy Religion,
which for the greatest part is adapted to the very meanest
Capacitys, 'tis not to be expected that a Speculation of this kind
shou'd be openly advanc'd. 'Tis enough that we have Hints given
us of a nobler Self, than that which is commonly suppos'd the Basis
and Foundation of our Actions. Self-Interest is there taken, as it is
vulgarly conceiv'd. Tho on the other side there are, in the most
*sacred Characters, Examples given us of the highest Contempt of
all such interested Views,of aWillingness to suffer without recom*
EXOD. Ch. xxxii. ver. 31, 32, &c. and ROM. Ch. ix. ver. 1, 2, 3, &c.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 175
Sect. 1.pence for the sake of others, and of a desire to part even with Life
and Being it-self, on account of what is generous and worthy. But
in the same manner as the celestialAPhaenomena are in the Sacred [282]
Volumes generally treated according to common Imagination, and
the then current System of Astronomy and natural Science; so
the moral Appearances are in many places preserv'd without Alteration,
according to vulgar Prejudice, and the general Conception
of Interest and Self-good. Our real and genuine SELF is sometimes
suppos'd that ambitious one which is fond of Power and Glory;
sometimes that childish one which is taken with vain Shew, and is
to be invited to Obedience by promise of finer Habitations, precious
Stones and Metals, shining Garments, Crowns, and other
such dazling Beautys, by which another Earth, or material City, is
represented.
It must be own'd, that even at that time, when a greater and
purer Light disclos'd it-self in the chosen Nation; their natural
*Gloominess appear'd still, by the great difficulty they had to know
themselves, or learn their real Interest, after such long Tutorage and
Instruction from above. The Simplicity of that People must certainly
have been very great; when the best Doctrine cou'd not go
down without a Treat, and the best Disciples hadAtheir Heads so [283]
running upon their Loaves, that they were apt to construe every
divine Saying in a Belly-Sense, and thought nothing more selfconstituent
than that inferior Receptacle. Their Taste in Morals
cou'd not fail of being sutable to this extraordinary Estimation of
themselves. No wonder if the better and nobler SELF was left as a
Mystery to a People, who of all human Kind were the most grosly
selfish, crooked and perverse. So that it must necessarily be confess'd,
in honour of their divine Legislators, Patriots, and Instructors;
that they exceeded all others in Goodness and Generosity;
since they cou'd so truly love their Nation and Brethren, such as
they were; and cou'd have so generous and disinterested Regards
* Supra, p. 29. & VOL. III. p. 53­56. & 115, &c.
 MAT. Ch. xvi. ver. 6, 7, 8, &c.
176 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. for those, who were in themselves so sordidly interested and un-
deserving.
But whatever may be the proper Effect or Operation of Religion,
'tis the known Province of Philosophy to teach us our-selves,
keep us theself-same Persons, and so regulate our governing Fancys,
Passions, and Humours, as to make us comprehensible to our
selves, and knowable by other Features than those of a bare Countenance.
For 'tis not certainly by virtue of our Face merely, that
weA are our-selves. 'Tis not WE who change, when our Complex-[284]
ion or Shape changes. But there is that, which being wholly metamorphos'd
and converted, WE are thereby in reality transform'd
and lost.
Shou'd an intimate Friend of ours, who had endur'd many Sicknesses,
and run many ill Adventures while he traveľd thro' the remotest
parts of the East, and hottest Countrys of the South, return
to us so alter'd in his whole outward Figure, that till we had for a
time convers'd with him, we cou'd not know him again to be the
same Person; the matter wou'd not seem sovery strange, nor wou'd
our concern on this account be very great. But shou'd a like Face
and Figure of a Friend return to us with Thoughts and Humours
of a strange and foreignTurn,with Passions, Affections, and Opinions
wholly different from any thing we had formerly known; we
shou'd say in earnest, and with the greatest Amazement and Concern,
that this was another Creature, and not the Friend whom we
once knew familiarly. Nor shou'd we in realityattempt any renewal
of Acquaintance or Correspondence with such a Person, tho perhaps
he might preserve in his Memory the faint Marks or Tokens
of former Transactions which had pass'd between us.A[285]
When a Revolution of this kind, tho not so total, happens at
any time in a Character; when the Passion or Humour of a known
Person changes remarkably from what it once was; 'tis to Philosophy
we then appeal. 'Tis either the Want or Weakness of this Principle,
which is charg'd on the Delinquent. And on this bottom it
is, that we often challenge our-selves, when we find such variation
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 177
Sect. 1.in our Manners; and observe that it is not always the same Self,
nor the same Interest we have in view; but often a direct contraryone,
which we serve still with the same Passion and Ardour.When
from a noted Liberality we change perhaps to as remarkable a Parsimony;
when from Indolence and Love of Rest we plunge into
Business; or from a busy and severe Character, abhorrent from the
tender Converse of the fair Sex, we turn on a sudden to a contrary
Passion, and become amorous or uxorious: we acknowledg
theWeakness; and charging our Defect on the general want of Philosophy,
we say (sighing) ``That, indeed, we none of us truly know
ourselves.'' And thus we recognize the Authority and proper Object
of Philosophy; so far at least, that tho we pretend not to be compleat
Philosophers, we confess, ``That as we have more or less of this
Intelligence or Comprehension of Aour-selves, we are accordingly [286]
more or less truly MEN, and either more or less to be depended
on, in Friendship, Society, and the Commerce of Life.''
The Fruits of this Science are indeed the fairest imaginable; and,
upon due trial, are found to be as well relish'd, and of as good
savour with Mankind. But when invited to the Speculation, we
turn our Eyes on that which we suppose the Tree, 'tis no wonder
if we slight the Gardenership, and think the manner of Culture a
very contemptible Mystery. ``Grapes, 'tis said, are not gather'd from
Thorns; nor Figs from Thistles.'' Now if in the literate World there
be any choking Weed, any thing purely Thorn or Thistle, 'tis in all
likelihood that very kind of Plant which stands for *Philosophy in
some famous Schools. There can be nothing more ridiculous than
to expect that Manners or Understanding shou'd sprout from such
a Stock. It pretends indeed some relation to Manners, as being
definitive of the Natures, Essences, and Propertys of Spirits; and
some relation to Reason, as describing the Shapes and Forms of
certain Instruments imploy'd in the reasoning Art. But had the
craftiest of Men, for many Ages together, been imploy'd in finding
* Infra, p. 333, 334, 335. and VOL. III. p. 184, 185, 186.
178 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. out a method toAconfound Reason, and degrade the Understanding
of Mankind; they cou'd not perhaps have succeeded better, than[287]
by the Establishment of such a Mock-Science.
I knew once a notable Enthusiast of the itinerant kind, who
being upon a high Spiritual Adventure in a Country where prophetick
Missions are treated as no Jest, was, as he told me, committed
a close Prisoner, and kept for several months where he saw
no manner of Light. In this Banishment from Letters and Discourse,
the Man very wittily invented an Amusement much to
his purpose, and highly preservative both of Health and Humour.
It may be thought perhaps, that of all Seasons or Circumstances
here was one the most sutable to our oft-mention'd practice of
SOLILOQUY; especially since the Prisoner was one of those whom
in this Agewe usuallycall Philosophers, a Successorof PARACELSUS,
and a Master in the occult Sciences. But as to Moral Science, or
any thing relating to Self-converse, he was a mere Novice. To work
therefore he went, after a different method. He tun'd his natural
Pipes not after the manner of a Musician, to practice what was
melodious and agreeable in Sounds, but to fashion and form all
sorts of articulateVoices the most distinctly that was possible.This
he perform'd byAstrenuously exalting his Voice, and essaying it in[288]
all the several Dispositions and Configurations of his Throat and
Mouth. And thus bellowing, roaring, snarling, and otherwise variously
exerting his Organs of Sound, he endeavour'd to discover
what Letters of the Alphabet cou'd best design each Species, or
what new Letters were to be invented, to mark the undiscover'd
Modifications. He found, for instance, the Letter A to be a most
genuine Character, an original and pure Vowel, and justly plac'd
as principal in the front of the alphabetick Order. For having duly
extended his under Jaw to its utmost distance from the upper; and
by a proper Insertion of his Fingers provided against the Contraction
of either Corner of his Mouth; he experimentally discover'd it
impossible for human Tongue under these Circumstances to emit
any other Modification of Sound than that which was describ'd
by this primitive Character. The Vowel O was form'd by an or-
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 179
Sect. 1.bicular Disposition of the Mouth; as was aptly delineated in the
Character it-self.The Vowel U by a parallel Protrusion of the Lips.
The other Vowels and Consonants by other various Collisions of
the Mouth, and Operations of the active Tongue upon the passive
Gum or Palat. The Result of this profound Speculation and
long Exercise of our Prisoner, was a Philosophical Treatise, whichA [289]
he compos'd when he was set at liberty. He esteem'd himself the
only Masterof Voice and Language on the account of this his radical
Science, and fundamental Knowledg of Sounds. But whoever
had taken him to improve their Voice, or teach 'em an agreeable
or just manner of Accent or Delivery, wou'd, I believe, have found
themselves considerably deluded.
'Tis not that I wou'd condemn as useless this speculative Science
of Articulation. It has its place, no doubt, among the other Sciences,
and may serve to Grammar, as Grammar serves to Rhetorick,
and to other Arts of Speech and Writing. The Solidity of Mathematicks,
and its Advantage to Mankind, is prov'd by many effects
in those beneficial Arts and Sciences which depend on it: tho Astrologers,
Horoscopers, and other such, are pleas'd to honour themselves
with the Title of Mathematicians. As for Metaphysicks, and
that which in the Schools is taught for Logick or for Ethicks; I shall
willinglyallow it to pass for Philosophy, when byany real effects it is
prov'd capable to refine our Spirits, improve our Understandings,
or mend our Manners. But if the defining material and immaterial
Substances, and distinguishing their Propertys and Modes, is recommended
to us, as the right manner of proceeding in the Discovery
of our ownA Natures, I shall be apt to suspect such a Study as the [290]
more delusive and infatuating, on account of its magnificent Pre-
tension.
The Studyof Triangles and Circles interferes not with the Study
of Minds. Nor does the Student in the mean while suppose himself
advancing in Wisdom, or the Knowledg of Himself or Mankind.
All he desires, is to keep his Head sound, as it was before. And
well, he thinks indeed, he has come off, if by good fortune there
be no Crack made in it. As for other Ability or Improvement in
180 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. the Knowledg of human Nature or the World; he refers himself
to other Studys and Practice. Such is the Mathematician's Modesty
and good Sense. But for the Philosopher, who pretends to be
wholly taken up in considering his higher Facultys, and examining
the Powers and Principles of his Understanding; if in reality his
Philosophy be foreign to the Matter profess'd; if it goes beside the
mark, and reaches nothing we can truly call our Interest or Concern;
it must be somewhat worse than mere Ignorance or Idiotism.
The most ingenious way of becoming foolish, is by a System. And
the surest Method to prevent good Sense, is to set up something
in the room of it. The liker any thing is to Wisdom, if it be not
plainlyAthe thing it-self, the more directly it becomes its opposite.[291]
Onewou'd expect it of these Physiologists and Searchers of Modes
and Substances, that being so exalted in their Understandings, and
inrich'd with Science above other Men, they shou'd be as much
above 'em in their Passions and Sentiments. The Consciousness
of being admitted into the secret Recesses of Nature, and the inward
Resources of a human Heart, shou'd, one wou'd think, create
in these Gentlemen a sort of Magnanimity, which might distinguish
'em from the ordinary Race of Mortals. But if their pretended
Knowledg of the Machine of this World, and of their own
Frame, is able to produce nothing beneficial either to the one or
to the other; I know not to what purpose such a Philosophy can
serve, except only to shut the door against better Knowledg, and
introduce Impertinence and Conceit with the best Countenance
of Authority.
'Tis hardly possible fora Student, but more especially an Author,
who has dealt in Ideas, and treated formally of the Passions, in a
way of natural Philosophy, not to imagine himself more wise on
this account, and more knowing in his own Character, and the
Genius of Mankind. But that he is mistaken in his Calculation,A[292]
Experience generally convinces us: none being found more impotent
in themselves, of less command over their Passions, less free
from Superstition and vain Fears, or less safe from common Imposture
and Delusion, than the noted Head-pieces of this stamp.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 181
Sect. 1.Nor is this a wonder. The Speculation in a manner bespeaks the
Practice.There needs no formal Deduction to make this evident. A
small Help from our familiar Method of Soliloquy may serve turn:
and we may perhaps decide this matter in a more diverting way; by
confronting this super-speculative Philosophy with a more practical
sort, which relates chiefly to our Acquaintance, Friendship,
and good Correspondence with our-selves.
On this account, it may not be to my Reader's disadvantage, if
forgetting him for a-while, I apply chiefly to my-self; and, as occasion
offers, assume that self-conversant Practice, which I have pretended
to disclose. 'Tis hop'd therefore, he will not esteem it as ill
Breeding, if I lose the usual regard to his Presence. And shou'd I
fall insensibly into one of the Paroxysms describ'd; and as in a sort
of Phrenzy, enter into high Expostulation with my-self; he will not
surely be offended with the free Language, or even with the Reproaches
he hears from aAPerson who only makes bold with whom [293]
he may.
IF A Passenger shou'd turn by chance into a Watchmaker's Shop,
and thinking to inform himself concerning Watches, shou'd inquire,
of what Metal, or what Matter, each Part was compos'd;
what gave the Colours, or what made the Sounds; without examining
what the real Use was of such an Instrument; or by what
Movements its End was best attain'd, and its Perfection acquir'd:
'tis plain that such an Examiner as this, wou'd come short of any
Understanding in the real Nature of the Instrument. Shou'd a
Philosopher, after the same manner, employing himself in the
Study of human Nature, discover only, what Effects each Passion
wrought upon the Body; what change of Aspect or Feature they
produc'd; and in what different manner they affected the Limbs
and Muscles; this might possibly qualify him to give Advice to an
Anatomist or a Limner, but not to Mankind or to Himself: Since
according to this Survey he consider'd not the real Operation or
Energy of his Subject, nor contemplated the Man, as real MAN,
and as a human Agent; but as a Watch or common Machine.A [294]
182 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. ``The Passion of Fear (as a *modern Philosopher informs me)
determines the Spirits to the Muscles of the Knees, which are instantly
ready to perform their Motion; by taking up the Legs with
incomparable Celerity, in order to remove the Body out of harm's
way.''--Excellent Mechanism! But whether the knocking together
of the Knees be any more the cowardly Symptom of Flight, than
the chattering of the Teeth is the stout Symptom of Resistance, I
shall not take upon me to determine. In this whole Subject of Inquiry
I shall find nothing of the least Self-concernment. And I may
depend upon it, that by the most refin'd Speculation of this kind,
I shall neither learn to diminish my Fears, or raise my Courage.
This, however, I may be assur'd of, that 'tis the Nature of Fear, as
well as of other Passions, to have its Increase and Decrease, as it is
fed by Opinion, and influenc'd by Custom and Practice.
These Passions, according as they have the Ascendency in me,
and differ in proportion with one another, affect my Character,
and make me different with respect to my-self and others. I must,A[295]
therefore, of necessity find Redress and Improvement in this case,
by reflecting justly on the manner of my own Motion, as guided
by Affections which depend so much on Apprehension and Conceit.
Byexamining thevariousTurns, Inflections, Declensions, and
inward Revolutions of the Passions, I must undoubtedly come the
better to understand a human Breast, and judg the better both
of others and my-self. 'Tis impossible to make the least advancement
in such a Study, without acquiring some Advantage, from
the Regulation and Government of those Passions, on which the
Conduct of a Life depends.
For instance, if SUPERSTITION be the sort of Fear which most
oppresses; 'tis not very material to inquire, on this occasion, to
what Parts or Districts the Blood or Spirits are immediately detach'd,
or where they are made to rendevouz. For this no more
imports me to understand, than it depends on me to regulate or
change. But when the Grounds of this superstitious Fear are con*
Monsieur DES CARTES, in his Treatise of the Passions.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 183
Sect. 1.sider'd to be from Opinion, and the Subjects of it come to be
thorowly search'd and examin'd; the Passion it-self must necessarily
diminish, as I discover more and more the Imposture which
belongs to it.A [296]
In the same manner, if VANITY be from Opinion, and I consider
how Vanity is conceiv'd, from what imaginary Advantages, and inconsiderable
Grounds; if I view it in its excessive height, as well
as in its contrary depression; 'tis impossible I shou'd not in some
measure be reliev'd of this Distemper.
*Are you swollen up with the love of praise? There are sure
remedies. . . . There are spells and charms by which you may
ease this pain and throw off a great part of your complaint.
The same must happen in respect of Anger, Ambition, Love,
Desire, and the other Passions from whence I frame the different
Notion I have of Interest. For as these Passions veer, my Interest
veers, my Steerage varys; and I make alternately, now this, now
that, to be my Course and Harbour. The Man in Anger, has a different
Happiness from the Man in Love. And the Man lately become
covetous, has a different Notion of Satisfaction from what
he had before, when he was liberal. Even the Man in Humour,
has another Thought of Interest and Advantage than the Man out
of Humour, or in the leastAdisturb'd. The Examination, therefore, [297]
of my Humours, and the INQUIRY after my Passions, must necessarily
draw along with it the Search and Scrutiny of my Opinions,
and the sincere Consideration of my Scope and End. And thus the
Study of human Affection cannot fail of leading me towards the
Knowledg of human Nature, and of MY-SELF.
This is the Philosophy, which, by Nature, has the Pre-eminence
above all other Science or Knowledg. Nor can this surely be of the
* Laudis amore tumes? Sunt certa Piacula--
Sunt verba & voces quibus hunc lenire dolorem
Possis, & magnam morbi deponere partem.
Hor. Epist. 1. lib. 1.
 See INQUIRY, viz. Treatise IV. of these Volumes.
184 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. sort calľd *vain or deceitful; since it is the only means by which
I can discover Vanity and Deceit. This is not of that kind which
depends on *Genealogys or Traditions, and *ministers Questions and
vain Jangling. It has not its Name, as other Philosophys, from the
mere Subtlety and Nicety of the Speculation; but, by way of Excellence,
from its being superior to all other Speculations; from
its presiding over all other Sciences and Occupations; teaching the
Measure of each, and assigning the just Value of everything in
Life. By this Science Religion it-self is judg'd, Spirits are search'd,
Prophecys prov'd, Miracles distinguish'd: the sole Measure and Standard
being takenAfrom moral Rectitude, and from the Discernment[298]
of what is sound and just in the Affections. For if the Tree is known
only by its Fruits; my first Endeavour must be to distinguish the
true Taste of Fruits, refine my Palat, and establish a just Relish
in the kind. So that to bid me judg Authority by Morals, whilst
the Rule of Morals is suppos'd dependent on mere Authority and
Will; is the same in reality as to bid me see with my Eyes shut,
measure without a Standard, and count without Arithmetick.
And thus PHILOSOPHY, which judges both of her-self, and of
every thing besides; discovers her own Province, and chief Command;
teaches me to distinguish between her Person and her Likeness;
and shews me her immediate and real self, by that sole Privilege
of teaching me to know my-self, and what belongs to me. She
gives to every inferior Science its just rank; leaves some to measure
Sounds; others to scan Syllables; others to weigh Vacuums, and
define Spaces, and Extensions: but reserves to her-self her due Authority,
and Majesty; keeps her State, and antient Title, of Guide
of life, investigator of virtue,4 and the rest of those just ApApella-[299]
tions which of old belong'd to her; when she merited to be apos*
COLOSS. Ch. ii. ver. 8.; TIT. Ch. iii. ver. 9.; 1 TIM. Ch. i. ver. 4, & 6. and Ch.
vi. ver. 20.
 LUKE, Ch. vi. ver. 43, 44. and MAT. Ch. vii. ver. 16. See VOL. II. p. 269, 334.
 Supra, pag. 107.
4 Vitae Dux,Virtutis Indagatrix.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 185
Sect. 1.trophiz'd, as she was, by the *Orator: ``Thou didst find out laws,
thou wast the teacher of character and method. . . . One day spent
well and under thy rules is better than an eternity of error.'' Excellent
Mistress! but easy to be mistaken! whilst so many Handmaids
wear as illustrious Apparel; and some are made to outshine her far,
in Dress, and Ornament.
In reality, how specious a Study, how solemn an Amusement is
rais'd from what we call Philosophical Speculations!--the Formation
of Ideas!--their Compositions, Comparisons, Agreement, and Disagreement!--What
can have a better Appearance, or bid fairer for
genuine and true PHILOSOPHY? Come on then. Let me philosophize
in this manner; if this be indeed the way I am to grow wise.
Let me examine my Ideas of Space and Substance: Let me look well
into Matter and its Modes; if this be looking into MY-SELF; if this
be to improve my Understanding, and enlarge my MIND. For of
this I may soon be satisfy'd. Let me observe therefore, with diligence,
what passes here; what Connexion and Consistency, what
Agreement or Disagreement I find within: ``Whether, according to
my present Ideas,Athat which I approve this Hour, I am like to ap- [300]
prove as well the next: And in case it be otherwise with me; how or
after what manner, I shall relieve myself; how ascertain my Ideas,
and keep my Opinion, Liking, and Esteem of things, the same.'' If
this remains unsolv'd; if I am still the same Mystery to my-self as
ever: to what purpose is all this reasoning and acuteness? Wherefore
do I admire my Philosopher, or study to become such a one,
my-self?
To-day things have succeeded well with me; consequently my
Ideas are rais'd: `` 'Tis a fine World! All is glorious! Every thing
delightful and entertaining! Mankind, Conversation, Company,
Society; What can be more desirable?'' To-morrow comes Disap*
``Tu Inventrix Legum, tu Magistra morum & disciplinae. * * * Est autem
unus dies bene & ex praeceptis tuis actus, peccanti immortalitati anteponendus.''
CICERO, Tusc. Quaest. lib. 5.
186 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 1. pointment, Crosses, Disgrace. And what follows? ``O miserable
Mankind! Wretched State! Who wou'd live out of Solitude? Who
wou'd write or act for such a World?'' Philosopher! where are thy
Ideas? Where is Truth, Certainty, Evidence, so much talk'd of? 'Tis
here surely they are to be maintain'd, if any where. 'Tis here I am
to preserve some just Distinctions, and adequate Ideas; which if I
cannot do a jot the more, by what such a Philosophy can teach me,
the Philosophy is in this respect imposing, and delusive. ForAwhat-[301]
ever its other Virtues are; it relates not to Me my-self, it concerns
not the Man, nor any otherwise affects the Mind than by the conceit
of Knowledg, and the false Assurance rais'd from a suppos'd
Improvement.
Again.What are my Ideas of theWorld, of Pleasure, Riches, Fame,
Life? What Judgment am I to make of Mankind and human Affairs?
What Sentiments am I to frame? What Opinions? What
Maxims? If none at all; why do I concern my-self in Speculations
about my Ideas? What is it to me, for instance, to know what kind
of Idea I can form of Space? ``Divide a solid Body of whatever Dimension,''
(says a renown'd modern Philosopher): ``And 'twill be
impossible for the Parts to move within the bounds of its Superficies;
if there be not left in it *a void Space, as big as the least part
into which the said Body is divided.''--
Thus the Atomist, or Epicurean, pleading for a Vacuum. The
Plenitudinarian, on the other side, brings his Fluid in play, and
joins the Idea of Body and Extension. ``Of this, says one, I have clear
Ideas.'' ``Of this, says the other, I can be certain.''A``And what, say I,[302]
if in the whole matter there be no certainty at all?'' For Mathematicians
are divided: and Mechanicks proceed as well on one Hypothesis
as on the other. My Mind, I am satisfy'd, will proceed either
way alike: For it is concern'd on neither side.--``Philosopher! Let
me hear concerning what is of some moment to me. Let me hear
concerning Life; what the right Notion is; and what I am to stand
to, upon occasion: that I may not, when Life seems retiring, or has
* These are the Words of the particular Author cited.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 187
Sect. 2.run it-self out to the very Dregs, cry Vanity! condemn the World,
and at the same time complain, that Life is short and passing!'' For
why so short, indeed, if not found sweet? Why do I complain both
ways? IsVanity, mereVanity, a Happiness? Orcan Misery pass away
too soon?
This is of moment to me to examine.This is worth my while. If,
on the other side, I cannot find the Agreement or Disagreement of
my Ideas in this place; if I can come to nothing certain here; what
is all the rest to me? What signifys it how I come by my Ideas, or
how compound 'em; which are simple, and which complex? If I have
a right Idea of Life, now when perhaps I think slightly of it, and
resolve with my-self, ``That it may easily be laid down on any honourable
occasion of AService to my Friends, or Country''; teach me [303]
how I may preserve this Idea: or, at least, how I may get safely rid of
it; that it may trouble me no more, nor lead me into ill Adventures.
Teach me how I came by such an Opinion of Worth and Virtue;
what it is, which at one time raises it so high, and at another time
reduces it to nothing; how these Disturbances and Fluctuations
happen; ``By what Innovation, what Composition, what Intervention
of other Ideas.'' If this be the Subject of the Philosophical Art;
I readily apply to it, and embrace the Study. If there be nothing
of this in the Case; I have no occasion for this sort of Learning;
and am no more desirous of knowing how I form or compound
those Ideas which are mark'd byWords, than I am of knowing how,
and by what Motions of my Tongue or Palat, I form those articulate
Sounds, which I can full as well pronounce, without any such
Science or Speculation.
S E C T I O N I I
BUT here it may be convenient for me to quit my-self a-while,
in favour of my Reader; lest if he prove one of the uncourteous
sort, he shou'd raise a considerable Objection in this place.
He may ask perhaps, ``Why a Writer for Self-entertainment shou'd
188 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. not keep his WritingsAto himself, without appearing in Publick, or
before the World.''[304]
In answer to this I shall only say, that for appearing in Publick,
or before theWorld, I do not readily conceive what our worthy Objector
may understand by it. I can call to mind, indeed, among
my Acquaintance, certain Merchant-Adventurers in the LetterTrade,
who in correspondence with their Factor-Bookseller, are
enter'd into a notable Commerce with the World. They have directly,
and in due Form of Preface, and Epistle Dedicatory, sollicited
the Publick, and made Interest with Friends for Favour and
Protection on this account. They have ventur'd, perhaps, to join
some great Man's Reputation with their own; having obtain'd his
Permission to address a Work to him, on presumption of its passing
for something considerable in the eyes of Mankind. One may
easily imagine that such patroniz'd and avow'd Authors as these,
wou'd be shreudly disappointed if the Publick took no notice of
their Labours. But for my own part, 'tis of no concern to me, what
regard the Publick bestows on my Amusements; or after what manner
it comes acquainted with what I write for my private Entertainment,
or by way of Advice to such of my Acquaintance as are
thus desperately embark'd.A[305]
'Tis requisite, that my Friends,who peruse these Advices, shou'd
read 'em in better Characters than those of my own Hand-writing.
And by good luck I have a very fair Hand offer'd, which may save
me the trouble of re-copying, and can readily furnish me with as
many handsom Copys as I wou'd desire, for my own and Friends
Service. I have not, indeed, forbid my Amanuensis the making as
many as he pleases for his own Benefit.What I write is not worth
being made a Mystery. And if it be worth any one's purchasing;
much good may do the Purchaser. 'Tis a Traffick I have no share
in; tho I accidentally furnish the Subject-matter.
And thus am I no-wise more an AUTHOR, for being in Print. I
am conscious of no additional Virtue, or dangerous Quality, from
having lain at any time under theweight of that alphabetick Engine
calľd the Press. I know no Conjuration in it, either with respect to
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 189
Sect. 2.Church, or State. Nor can I imagine why the Machine shou'd appear
so formidable to Scholars, and renown'd Clerks; whose very
Mystery and Foundation depends on the Letter-Manufacture. To
allow Benefit of Clergy, and to restrain the Press, seems to me to
have something of Cross-purpose in it. I can hardly think that the
QuaAlity of what is written can be alter'd by the Manner of Writ- [306]
ing; or that there can be any harm in a quick way of copying fair,
and keeping Copys alike. Why a Man may not be permitted to
write with Iron as well as Quill, I can't conceive; or how a Writer
changes his Capacity, by this new Dress, any more than by the
wear of Wove-Stockins, after having worn no other Manufacture
than the Knit.
SO MUCH for my Reader; if perchance I have any besides the
Friend or two above-mention'd. For being engag'd in Morals, and
induc'd to treat so rigorous a Subject as that of Self-examination;
I naturally call to mind the extreme Delicacy and Tenderness of
modern Appetites, in respect of the Philosophy of this kind.What
Distaste possibly may have arisen from some medicinal Doses of
a like nature, administer'd to raw Stomachs, at a very early Age, I
will not pretend to examine. But whatever Manner in Philosophy
happens to bear the least resemblance to that of Catechism, cannot,
I'm persuaded, of it-self, prove very inviting. Such a smart way of
questioning our-selves in our Youth, has made our Manhood more
averse to the expostulatory Discipline. And tho the metaphysical
Points of our Belief are by this method, with admirableA Care and [307]
Caution, instilľd into tender Minds; yet the manner of this anticipating
Philosophy, may make the After-work of Reason, and
the inward Exercise of the Mind, at a riper Age, proceed the more
heavily, and with greater reluctance.
It must needs be a hard Case with us, after having pass'd so
learned a Childhood, and been instructed in our own and other
higher Natures, Essences, incorporeal Substances, Personalitys, and
the like; to condescend at riper Years to ruminate and con over this
Lesson a second time. 'Tis hard, after having, by so many pertinent
190 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. Interrogatorys, and decisive Sentences, declar'd Who and What we
are; to come leisurely, in another view, to inquire concerning our
real SELF, and END, the Judgment we are to make of INTEREST,
and the Opinion we shou'd have of ADVANTAGE and GOOD: which
is what must necessarily determine us in our Conduct, and prove
the leading Principle of our Lives.
Can we bear looking a-new into these Mysterys? Can we endure
a new Schooling, after having once learnt our Lesson from the
World? Hardly, I presume. For by the Lesson of this latter School,
and according to the Sense I acquire in Converse with prime Men;
shou'd I at any timeAask my-self, What govern'd me? I shou'd answer[308]
readily, My Interest. ``But what is Interest? And how govern'd?'' ``By
Opinion and Fancy.'' ``Is every thing therefore my Interest which I
fansy such? Or may my Fancy possibly bewrong?'' ``It may.'' ``If my
Fancy of Interest therefore be wrong; can my Pursuit or Aim be
right?'' ``Hardly so.'' ``Can I then be suppos'd to hit, when I know
not, in reality, so much as how to aim?''
Mychief Interest, it seems therefore, must be to get an Aim; and
know certainly where my Happiness and Advantage lies. ``Where
else can it lie, than in my Pleasure; since my Advantage and Good
must ever be pleasing: and what is pleasing, can never be other than
my Advantage and Good?'' ``Excellent! Let Fancy therefore govern,
and Interest be what we please. For if that which pleases us be
our Good, *because it pleases us; any-thing may be our INTEREST
or GOOD. Nothing can come amiss. That which we fondly make
our Happiness at one time, we may as readily un-make at another.
No-one can learn what real GOOD is. Nor can anyone upon this
foot be said to understand his INTEREST.''A[309]
Here, we see, are strange Embroils!--But let us try to deal more
candidly with our-selves, and frankly own that Pleasure is no rule
of GOOD; since when we follow Pleasure merely, we are disgusted,
and change from one sort to another: condemning that at one
* VOL. II. p. 227. and VOL. III. p. 200.
 Infra, p. 339.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 191
Sect. 2.time, which at another we earnestly approve; and never judging
equally of Happiness, whilst we follow Passion and mere Humour.
A Lover, for instance, when struck with the Idea or Fancy of his
Enjoyment, promises himself the highest Felicity, if he succeeds
in his new Amour.--He succeeds in it; finds not the Felicity he
expected: but promises himself the same again in some other.--
The same thing happens: He is disappointed as before; but still has
Faith.--Weary'd with this Game, he quits the Chace; renounces
the way of Courtship and Intrigue, and detests the Ceremony and
Difficulty of the Pleasure.--A new Species of Amours invites him.
Here too he meets the same Inquietude and Inconstancy.--Scorning
to grow sottish, and plunge in the lowest Sink of Vice, he shakes
off his Intemperance; despises Gluttony and Riot; and hearkens
to Ambition. He grows a Man of Business, and seeks Authority
and Fame.--A [310]
*With what chain can I bind the ever-changing figure of
Proteus?
Lest this therefore shou'd be my own case; let me see whether I
can controul my Fancy, and fix it, if possible, on something which
may hold good.--When I exercise my Reason in moral Subjects;
when I employ my Affection in friendly and social Actions, I find I
can sincerely enjoy my-self. If there be a Pleasure therefore of this
kind; why not indulge it? Or what harm wou'd there be, supposing
it shou'd grow greater by Indulgence? If I am lazy, and indulge
my-self in the languid Pleasure; I know the harm, and can foresee
the Drone. If I am luxurious, I know the harm of this also, and
have the plain prospect of the Sot. If Avarice be my Pleasure; the
End, I know, is being a Miser. But if HONESTY be my Delight, I
know no other consequence from indulging such a Passion, than
that of growing better natur'd, and enjoying more and more the Pleasures
of Society. On the other hand, if this honest Pleasure be lost,
* Quo teneam vultus mutantem PROTEA nodo?
Hor. Epist. 1. lib. 1.
192 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. by knavish Indulgence, and Immorality, there can hardly be a Satisfaction
left of any kind; since Good-nature and *social AffectionA[311]
are so essential even to the Pleasures of a Debauch.
If therefore the only Pleasure I can freely and without reserve
indulge, be that of the honest and moral kind; if the rational and
social Enjoyment be so constant in it-self, and so essential to Happiness;
why shou'd I not bring my other Pleasures to correspond
and be Friends with it, rather than raise my-self other Pleasures,
which are destructive of this Foundation, and have no manner of
Correspondency with one another?
Upon this bottom let me try how I can bear the Assault of
FANCY, and maintain my-self in my moral Fortress, against the
Attacks which are rais'd on the side of corrupt Interest and a wrong
Self. When the Idea of Pleasure strikes, I ask my-self: ``Before I
was thus struck by the Idea, was any thing amiss with me?'' ``No.''
``Therefore remove the Idea, and I am well.'' ``But having this Idea
such as I now have, I cannot want theThing,without regret.'' ``See,
therefore, which is best: either to suffer under this Want, till the
Idea be remov'd; or by satisfying the Want, confirm not only this
Idea, but all of the same stamp!''A[312]
In reality, has not every FANCY a like Privilege of passing; if any
single one be admitted upon its own Authority? And what must
be the Issue of such an OEconomy, if the whole fantastick Crew
be introduc'd, and the Door refus'd to none? What else is it than
this Management which leads to the most dissolute and profligate
of Characters? What is it, on the contrary, which raises us to
any degree of Worth or Steddiness, besides a direct contrary Practice
and Conduct? Can there be Strength of Mind; can there be
Command over one's self; If the Ideas of Pleasure, the Suggestions
of Fancy, and the strong Pleadings of Appetite and Desire are not
often withstood, and the Imaginations soundly reprimanded, and
brought under subjection?
Thus it appears that the Method of examining our Ideas is no
* VOL. II. p. 127.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 193
Sect. 2.pedantick Practice. Nor is there any thing un-galante in the manner
of thus questioning the Lady-Fancys, which present themselves
as charmingly dress'd as possible to sollicit their Cause, and obtain
a Judgment, by favour of that worse Part, and corrupt SELF,
to whom they make their Application.
It may be justly said of these, that they are very powerful Sollicitresses.
They never seem to importune us; tho they areA ever in [313]
our eye, and meet us which-ever way we turn. They understand
better how to manage their Appearance, than by always throwing
up their Veil, and shewing their Faces openly in a broad Light, to
run the danger of cloying our Sight, or exposing their Features to
a strict Examination. So far are they from such forwardness, that
they often stand as at a distance; suffering us to make the first advance,
and contenting themselves with discovering a Side-face, or
bestowing now and then a glance in a mysterious manner, as if
they endeavour'd to conceal their Persons.
One of the most dangerous of these Enchantresses appears in a
sort of dismal Weed, with the most mournful Countenance imaginable;
often casting up her Eyes, and wringing her Hands; so that
'tis impossible not to be mov'd by her, till her Meaning be consider'd,
and her Imposture fully known. The Airs she borrows, are
from the tragick Muse MELPOMENE. Nor is she in her own Person
any way amiable or attractive. Far from it. Her Art is to render herself
as forbidding as possible; that her Sisters may by her means be
the more alluring. And if by her tragick Aspect, and melancholy
Looks, she can persuade us that Death (whom she represents) is
such a hideousA Form; she conquers in behalf of the whole fan- [314]
tastick Tribe of wanton, gay, and fond Desires. Effeminacy and
Cowardice instantly prevail.The poorest Means of Life grow in repute,
when the Ends and just Conditions of it are so little known,
and the Dread of parting with it, rais'd to so high a degree. The
more eagerly we grasp at Life, the more impotent we are in the
Enjoyment of it. By this Avidity, its very Lees and Dregs are swallow'd.The
Ideas of sordid Pleasure are advanc'd.Worth, Manhood,
Generosity, and all the nobler Opinions and Sentiments of honest
194 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. GOOD, and virtuous Pleasure, disappear, and fly before this Queen
of Terrors.
'Tis a mighty Delight which a sort of Counter-Philosophers
take in seconding this Phantom, and playing her upon our Understandings,
whenever they wou'd take occasion to confound 'em.
The vicious Poets employ this Specter too on their side; tho after
a different manner. By the help of this tragick Actress, they gain a
fairer Audience for the luxurious Fancys; and give their ERATO's,
and other playsom Muses a fuller Scope in the support of Riot and
Debauch. The gloomy Prospect of Death becomes the Incentive
to Pleasures of the lowest Order. Ashes and Shade, the Tomb and
Cypress, are made to serve as Foils to Luxury. The Abhorrence of an
insensibleAState makes mere Vitality and Animal-Sensation highly[315]
cherish'd.
*Give your genius play; let us take our pleasures; your life
(alone) is ours; you will (soon) be but dust, a ghost, a name.
'Tis no wonder if Luxury profits by the Deformity of this SpecterOpinion.
She supports her Interest by this childish Bugbear; and,
like a Mother by her Infant, is hugg'd so much the closer by her
Votary, as the Fear presses him, and grows importunate. She invites
him to live fast, according to her best measure of Life. And well
she may.Who wou'd not willingly make Life pass away as quickly
as was possible; when the nobler Pleasures of it were already lost
or corrupted by a wretched Fear of Death? The intense Selfishness
and Meanness which accompanys this Fear, must reduce us to a
low ebb of Enjoyment; and in a manner bring to nothing that
main Sum of satisfactory Sensations, by which we vulgarly rate the
Happiness of our private Condition and Fortune.
But see! A lovely Form advances to our Assistance, introduc'd
by the prime Muse, the beauteous CALLIOPE! She shews us what
* Indulge Genio: carpamus dulcia, nostrum est
Quod vivis: Cinis, & Manes, & Fabula fies.
Pers. Sat. 5.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 195
Sect. 2.real Beauty is, and what thoseA Numbers are, which make Life perfect,
and bestow the chief Enjoyment. She sets Virtue before our [316]
Eyes, and teaches us how to rate Life, from the Experience of the
most heroick Spirits. She brings her Sisters CLIO and URANIA to
support her. From the former she borrows whatever is memorable
in History, and antient Time, to confront the tragick Specter, and
shew the fix'd Contempt which the happiest and freest Nations,
as well as single Heroes, and private Men worthy of any Note,
have ever express'd for that Impostress. From the latter she borrows
what is sublimest in Philosophy, to explain the Laws of Nature,
the Order of the Universe, and represent to us the Justice of accompanying
this amiable Administration. She shews us, that by
this just Compliance we are made happiest: and that the measure
of a happy Life is not from the fewer or more Suns we behold,
the fewer or more Breaths we draw, or Meals we repeat; but from
the having once liv'd well, acted our Part handsomly, and made our
Exit chearfully, and as became us.
Thus we retain on Virtue's side the noblest Party of the Muses.
Whatever is august amongst those Sisters, appears readily in our
behalf. Nor are the more jocund Ladys wanting in their Assistance,
when they act in the Perfection of their Art, and inspire
some better Genius's in this kindAof Poetry. Such were the nobler [317]
Lyricks, and those of the latter, and more refin'd Comedy of the Antients.
The THALIA's, the POLYHYMNIA's, the TERPSYCHORE's,
the EUTERPE's willingly join their Parts; and being alike interested
in the Cause of Numbers, are with regret employ'd another
way, in favour of Disorder. Instead of being made Syrens to serve
the Purposes of Vice, they wou'd with more delight accompany
their elder Sisters, and add their Graces and attractive Charms to
what is most harmonious, Muse-like, and Divine in human Life.
There is this difference only between these and the more heroick
Dames; that theycan more easily be perverted, and take thevicious
Form. For what Person of any Genius or masterly Command in
the poetick Art, cou'd think of bringing the Epick or Tragick Muse
to act the Pandar, or be subservient to Effeminacy and Cowardice?
196 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. 'Tis not against Death, Hazards orToils, that Tragedy and the heroick
Fable are pointed. 'Tis not mere Life which is here exalted, or
has its Price enhanc'd. On the contrary, its Calamitys are expos'd:
the Disorders of the Passions set to view: Fortitude recommended:
Honour advanc'd: the Contempt of Death plac'd as the peculiar
Note of every generous and happy Soul; and the tenacious Love
of Life, as the truest Character of an abject Wretch.A[318]
*Is it so hard to die?
'Tis not to be imagin'd how easily we deal with the deluding
Apparitions and false Ideas of Happiness and Good; when this
frightful Specter of Misery and Ill, is after this manner well laid,
and by honest Magick conjur'd down; so as not to give the least
assistance to the other tempting Forms. This is that occult Science,
or sort of Counter-Necromancy, which instead of Ghastliness and
Horror, inspires only what is gentle and humane, and dispels the
imposing Phantoms of every kind. He may pass, undoubtedly,
for no mean Conjurer, who can deal with Spirits of this sort.--
But hold!--Let us try the Experiment in due form, and draw the
magick Circle. Let us observe how the inferior Imps appear; when
the Head-Goblin is securely laid!--
See! The Enchantress INDOLENCE presents her-self, in all the
Pomp of Ease and lazy Luxury. She promises the sweetest Life,
and invites us to her Pillow: injoins us to expose our-selves to no
adventurous Attempt; and forbids us any Engagement which may
bring us into Action. ``Where, then, are the PleaAsures which Am-[319]
bition promises, and Love affords? How is the gay World enjoy'd?
Or are those to be esteem'd no Pleasures, which are lost by Dulness
and Inaction?'' ``But Indolence is the highest Pleasure.'' ``To live,
and not to feel!'' ``To feel no Trouble.'' ``What Good then?'' ``Life
it-self.'' ``And is this properly to live? Is sleeping, Life? Is this what I
shou'd study to prolong?''--Here the fantastick Tribe it-self seems
* Usque adeone mori miserum est?--
Virg. AEneid. Lib. 12.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 197
Sect. 2.scandaliz'd. A Civil War begins. The major part of the capricious
Dames range themselves on Reason's side, and declare against the
languid SYREN. Ambition blushes at the offer'd Sweet. Conceit and
Vanity take superior Airs. Even Luxury her-self, in her polite and
elegant Humour, reproves the Apostate-Sister, and marks her as
an Alien to true Pleasure--``Away, thou drousy Phantom! Haunt
me no more. For I have learn'd from better than thy Sisterhood,
that Life and Happiness consist in Action and Employment.''
But here a busy Form sollicits us; active, industrious, watchful,
and despising Pains and Labour. She wears the serious Countenance
of Virtue, but with Features of Anxiety and Disquiet.What
is it she mutters? What looks she on, with such Admiration and
Astonishment?A--Bags! Coffers! Heaps of shining Metal! ``What! [320]
for the Service of Luxury? For her these Preparations? Art thou
then her Friend (grave Fancy!) is it for her thou toiľst?'' ``No, but
for Provision against Want.'' ``But, Luxury apart, tell me now, hast
thou not already a Competence?'' `` 'Tis good to be secure against
the fear of Starving.'' ``Is there then no Death beside this? No other
Passage out of Life? Are other Doors secur'd, if this be barr'd?
Say, AVARICE! (thou emptiest of Phantoms) is it not vile Cowardice
thou serv'st? What further have I then to do with thee (thou
doubly vile Dependent!) when once I have dismiss'd thy Patroness,
and despis'd her Threats?''
Thus I contend with FANCY and *OPINION; and search the
Mint and Foundery of Imagination. For here the Appetites and
Desires are fabricated. Hence they derive their Privilege and Currency.
If I can stop the Mischief here, and prevent false Coinage; I
am safe. ``Idea! wait a-while till I have examin'd thee, whence thou
art, and to whom thou retain'st. Art thou of Ambition's Train? Or
dost thou promise only Pleasure? Say! what am I to sacrifice for
thyAsake? What Honour? What Truth? What Manhood?--What [321]
Bribe is it thou bring'st along with thee? Describe the flattering
Object; but without Flattery; plain, as the thing is; without addi*
VOL. III. p. 198, 199, &c.
198 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. tion, without sparing or reserve. Is it Wealth? is it a Report? a Title?
or a Female? Come not in a Troop, (ye Fancys!) Bring not your
Objects crouding, to confound the Sight. But let me examine your
Worth and Weight distinctly.Think not to raise accumulative Happiness.
For if separately, you contribute nothing; in conjunction,
you can only amuse.''
WHILST I am thus penning a Soliloquy in form, I can't forbear
reflecting on my Work. And when I view the Manner of it with a
familiar Eye; I am readier, I find, to make my-self Diversion on this
occasion, than to suppose I am in good earnest about a Work of
consequence. ``What! Am I to be thus fantastical? Must I busy myself
with Phantoms? fight with Apparitions and Chimeras?'' ``For
certain: Or the Chimeras will be before-hand with me, and busy
themselves so as to get the better of my Understanding.'' ``What!
Talk to my-self like some Madman, in different Persons, and under
differentACharacters?'' ``Undoubtedly: or 'twill be soon seen who is[322]
a real Madman, and changes Character in earnest, without knowing
how to help it.''
This indeed is but too certain; That as long as we enjoya MIND,
as long as we have Appetites and Sense, the Fancys of all kinds will be
hard at work; and whether we are in company, or alone, they must
range still, and be active. They must have their Field. The Question
is,Whether they shall have it wholly to themselves; or whether
they shall acknowledg some Controuler or Manager. If none; 'tis
this, I fear, which leads to Madness. 'Tis this, and nothing else,
which can be calľd Madness, or Loss of Reason. For if FANCY be left
Judg of any thing, she must be Judg of all. Every-thing is right, if
anything be so, because I fansy it. ``The House turns round. The
Prospect turns.'' ``No, but my Head turns indeed: I have a Giddiness;
thaťs all. Fancy wou'd persuade me thus and thus: but I know
better.'' 'Tis by means therefore of a Controuler and Corrector of
Fancy, that I am sav'd from being mad. Otherwise, 'tis the House
turns, when I am giddy. 'Tis Things which change (for so I must
suppose) when my Passion merely, or Temper changes. ``But I was
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 199
Sect. 2.out of order. I dreamt.'' ``Who tellsA me this?'' ``Who besides the
CORRECTRICE, by whose means I am in my Wits, and without [323]
whom I am no longer my-self?''
Every Man indeed who is not absolutely beside himself, must
of necessity hold his Fancys under some kind of Discipline and
Management. The stricter this Discipline is, the more the Man is
rational and in his Wits. The looser it is, the more fantastical he
must be, and the nearer to the Madman's State. This is a Business
which can never stand still. I must always be Winner or Loser
at the Game. Either I work upon my Fancys, or They on Me. If I
give Quarter, They won't. There can be no Truce, no Suspension
of Arms between us. The one or the other must be superior, and
have the Command. For if the Fancys are left to themselves, the
Government must of course be theirs. And then, what difference
between such a State and Madness?
The Question therefore is the same here, as in a Family, or Houshold,
when 'tis ask'd, ``Who rules? or Who is Master?''
Learn by theVoices. Observe who speaks aloud, in a commanding
Tone: Who talks, who questions; or who is talk'd with, and
who question'd. For if the Servants take the former part; theyAare [324]
the Masters, and the Government of the House will be found such
as naturally may be expected in these Circumstances.
How stands it therefore, in my own OEconomy, my principal
Province and Command? How stand my Fancys? How deal they
with me? Or do I take upon me rather to deal with Them? Do I
talk, question, arraign? Or am I talk'd with, arraign'd, and contented
to hear,without giving a Reply? If I votewith FANCY, resign
my *Opinion to her Command, and judg of Happiness and Misery
as she judges; how am I my-self?''
He who in a Plain imagines Precipices at his Feet, impending
Rocks over his Head; fears bursting Clouds in a clear Sky; cries
Fire! Deluge! Earthquake, or Thunder! when all is quiet: does he
not rave? But one whose Eyes seemingly strike fire, by a Blow; one
* VOL. III. pag. 199, &c.
200 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. whose Head is giddy from the Motion of a Ship, after having been
newly set ashore; or one who from a Distemper in his Ear hears
thundring Noises; can readily redress these several Apprehensions,
and is by this means sav'd from Madness.A[325]
A Distemper in my Eye may make me see the strangest kind of
Figures: And when Cataracts and other Impuritys are gathering in
that Organ; Flies, Insects, and other various Forms, seem playing
in the Air before me. But let my Senses err ever so widely; I am not
on this account beside my-self: Nor am I out of my own Possession,
whilst there is a Person left within; who has Power to dispute the
Appearances, and redress the Imagination.
I am accosted by Ideas and striking Apprehensions: But I take
nothing on their Report. I hear their Story, and return 'em Answer,
as they deserve. FANCY and I are not all one. The Disagreement
makes me my own. When, on the contrary, I have no Debate with
her, no Controversy; but take for Happiness and Misery, for Good
and Ill, whatever she presents as such; I must then join Voices with
her, and cry Precipice! Fire! CERBERUS! Elyzium!--
``Sandy Desarts! flowery Fields!
Seas of Milk, and Ships of Amber!''
A Grecian Prince, who had the same Madness as ALEXANDER,
and was deeply struck with the Fancy of conqueringA Worlds, was[326]
ingeniously shewn the Method of expostulating with his LadyGoverness;
when by a discreet Friend, and at an easy Hour, he was
ask'd little by little concerning his Design, and the final Purpose,
and promis'd Good which the flattering Dame propos'd to him.
The Story is sufficiently noted. All the Artifice employ'd against
the Prince was a well-manag'd Interrogatory of what next? LadyFANCY
was not aware of the Design upon her; but let her-self be
worm'd out, by degrees. At first, she said the Prince's design was
only upon a Tract of Land, which stood out like a Promontory before
him, and seem'd to eclipse his Glory. A fair rich Island, which
was close by, presented it-self next, and as it were naturally invited
Conquest. The opposite Coast came next in view. Then the Con-
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 201
Sect. 2.tinent on each side the larger Sea. And then (what was easiest of
all, and wou'd follow of course) the Dominion both of Sea and
Land. ``And What next? reply'd the Friend.What shall we do, when
we are become thus happy, and have obtain'd our highest Wish?''
``Why then, we'll sit down peaceably, and be good Company over
a Bottle.'' ``Alas, Sir! What hinders us from doing the same, where
we now are? Will our Humour, or our Wine grow better? Shall we
be more secure, or at HearťsA Ease? What you may possibly lose [327]
by these Attempts, is easy to conceive. But which way you will be
a Gainer, your own Fancy (you see) cannot so much as suggest.''
FANCY in the mean while carry'd her point: for she was absolute
over the Monarch; and had been too little talk'd to by her-self, to
bear being reprov'd in Company. The Prince grew sullen; turn'd
the Discourse; abhor'd the Profanation offer'd to his SovereignEmpress;
deliver'd up his Thoughts to her again with deep Devotion,
and fell to conquering with all his Might. The Sound of
Victory rung in his Ears. Laurels and Crowns play'd before his Eyes.
--What was this beside Giddiness and Dream? Appearances uncorrected?
``Worlds dancing? Phantoms playing?''
``Seas of Milk, and Ships of Amber!''
'TIS easy to bring the Hero's Case home to our-selves; and see,
in the ordinary Circumstances of Life, how Love, Ambition, and
the gayer Tribe of Fancys (as well as the gloomy and dark Specters
of another sort) prevail over our Mind. 'Tis easy to observe how
they work on us, when we refuse to be before-hand with 'em, and
bestow repeated Lessons on the encroaching Sorceresses. On this it
is, that our offer'd ADVICE, and Method of SOALILOQUY depends. [328]
And whether this be of any use towards making us either wiser,
or happier; I am confident, it must help to make us wittier and
politer. It must, beyond any other Science, teach us the Turns of
Humour and Passion, the Variety of Manners, the Justness of Characters,
and TRUTH of Things; which when we rightly understand,
we may naturally describe. And on this depends chiefly the Skill
and Art of a good Writer. So that if to write well be a just pretence
202 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 2. to Merit; 'tis plain, that Writers, who are apt to set no small Value
on their Art, must confess there is something valuable in this selfexamining
Practice, and Method of inward Colloquy.
As for the Writer of these Papers (as modern Authors are pleas'd
modestly to style themselves) he is contented, for his part, to take
up with this Practice, barely for his own proper Benefit; without
regard to the high Function or Capacity of Author. It may be
allow'd him, in this particular, to imitate the best Genius and most
Gentleman-like of Roman Poets. And tho by an Excess of Dulness,
it shou'd be his misfortune to learn nothing of this Poeťs Wit,
he is persuaded he may learn something of his Honesty and good
Humour.A[329]
*For I do not fail when my study-couch or a colonnade has received
me. ``This is more right; if I do thus, I shall live better;
so my friends will be glad to meet me.'' . . . These are my
silent reflections with myself.
* Neque enim, cum lectulus, aut ME
Porticus excepit, desum MIHI: ``Rectius hoc est:
Hoc faciens, vivam melius: sic dulcis Amicis
Occurram.'' Haec EGO MECUM
Compressis agito labris.
Hor. Sat. 4. lib. 1.
 And again:
Quocirca MECUM loquor haec, tacitusque recordor:
Si tibi nulla sitim finiret copia lymphae,
Narrares medicis: quod quanto plura parâsti,
Tanto plura cupis, nulline faterier audes?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Non es avarus: abi. quid? caetera jam simul isto
Cum vitio fugre? caret tibi pectus inani
Ambitione? Caret mortis formidine & irâ?
Id. Epist. 2. lib. 2.
[And so I speak as follows to myself and try to remember in silence:--``If no abundance
of water ended your thirst, you would tell the doctors; seeing that the more
money you have, the more you want, dare you tell no one? . . . You are not avaricious.Very
good. But have other faults gone too? Is your heart free from unsatisfying
ambition? from the fear of death? from anger?'']
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 203
Sect. 3.S E C T I O N I I I
WE are now arriv'd to that part of our Performance, where
it becomes us to cast our Eye back, on what has already
pass'd. The Observers of Method generally make this the place
of Recapitulation. Other Artists have substituted the Practice of
APOLOGY, or Extenuation. For the anticipating Manner of prefatory
Discourse, is too well known, to work any surprizing effect
in the Author's behalf: PREFACE being become only anoAther word [330]
to signify Excuse. Besides that the Author is generally the most
straiten'd in that preliminary Part, which on other accounts is too
apt to grow voluminous. He therefore takes the advantage of his
Corollary or Winding-up; and ends pathetically, by endeavouring
in the softest manner to reconcile his Reader to those Faults which
he chuses rather to excuse than to amend.
General Practice has made this a necessary Part of Elegance,
hardly to be pass'd over by any Writer. 'Tis the chief Stratagem
by which he engages in personal Conference with his Reader; and
can talk immoderately of Himself, with all the seeming Modesty
of one who is the furthest from any selfish Views, or conceited
Thoughts of his own Merit. There appears such a peculiar Grace
and Ingenuity in the method of confessing Laziness, Precipitancy,
Carelessness, or whatever other Vices have been the occasion of the
Author's Deficiency; that it wou'd seem a Pity, had the Work itself
been brought to such Perfection, as to have left no room for
the penitent Party to enlarge on his own Demerits. For from the
multiplicity of these, he finds Subject to ingratiate himself with
his Reader; who doubtless is not a little rais'd by this Submission
of a confessing Author; and is ready, on theseA terms, to give him [331]
Absolution, and receive him into his good Grace and Humour.
In the galante World, indeed, we easily find how far a Humility
of this kind prevails. They who hope to rise by MERIT, are likeliest
to be disappointed in their Pretensions. The confessing Lover,
who ascribes all to the Bounty of the Fair-one, meets his Reward
the sooner, for having study'd less how to deserve it. For MERIT
is generally thought presumptuous, and suppos'd to carry with it
204 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. a certain Assurance and Ease, with which a Mistress is not so well
contented. The Claim of well-deserving seems to derogate from
the pure Grace and Favour of the Benefactrice; who then appears to
her-self most sovereign in Power, and likeliest to be obey'd without
reserve, when she bestows her Bounty, where there is least Title,
or Pretension.
Thus a certain Adoration of the Sex, which passes in our Age
without the least Charge of Profaneness, or Idolatry, may, according
to vulgar Imagination, serve to justify these galante Votarys,
in the imitation of the real Religious and Devout. The method of
*Self-abasement may perhaps be thought the properest to make
ApAproaches to the sacred Shrines: And the intire Resignation of[332]
Merit, in each Case, may be esteem'd the only ground of welldeserving.
But what we allow to Heaven, or to the Fair, shou'd
not, methinks, be made a Precedent, in favour of theWorld. Whatever
Deference is due to that Body of Men whom we call Readers;
we may be suppos'd to treat 'em with sufficient Honour, if with
thorow Diligence, and Pains, we endeavour to render our Works
perfect; and leave 'em to judg of the Performance, as they are able.
However difficult or desperate it may appear in any Artist to endeavour
to bring Perfection into his Work; if he has not at least the
Idea of PERFECTION to give him Aim, he will be found very defective
and mean in his Performance. Tho his Intention be to please
the World, he must nevertheless be, in a manner, above it; and fix
his Eye upon that consummate Grace, that Beauty of Nature, and
that Perfection of Numbers, which the rest of Mankind, feeling
only by the Effect, whilst ignorant of the Cause, term the Je-nesçay-quoy,
the unintelligible, or the I know not what; and suppose
to be a kind of Charm, or Inchantment, of which the Artist himself
can give no account.A[333]
BUT HERE, I find, I am tempted to do what I have my-self condemn'd.
Hardly can I forbear making some Apology for my fre*
Supra, p. 38.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 205
Sect. 3.quent Recourse to the Rules of common Artists, to the Masters of
Exercise, to the Academys of Painters, Statuarys, and to the rest
of the Virtuoso-Tribe. But in this I am so fully satisfy'd I have Reason
on my side, that let Custom be ever so strong against me, I
had rather repair to these inferior Schools, to search for TRUTH,
and NATURE; than to some other Places, where higher Arts and
Sciences are profess'd.
I am persuaded that to be a Virtuoso (so far as befits a Gentleman)
is a higher step towards the becoming a Man of Virtue and
good Sense, than the being what in this Age we call *a Scholar.
* It seems indeed somewhat improbable, that according to modern Erudition,
and as Science is now distributed, our ingenious and noble Youths shou'd obtain
the full advantage of a just and liberal Education, by uniting the Scholar-part with
that of the real Gentleman and Man of Breeding. Academys for Exercises, so useful
to the Publick, and essential in the Formation of a genteel and liberal Character,
are unfortunately neglected. Letters are indeed banish'd, I know not where, in distant
Cloisters and unpractis'd Cells, as our Poet has it, confin'd to the Commerce
and mean Fellowship of bearded Boys. The sprightly Arts and Sciences are sever'd
from Philosophy, which consequently must growdronish, insipid, pedantick, useless,
and directly opposite to the real Knowledg and Practice of the World and Mankind.
Our Youth accordingly seem to have their only Chance between two widely
different Roads; either that of Pedantry and School-Learning, which lies amidst the
Dregs and most corrupt part of antient Literature; or that of the fashionable illiterate
World, which aims merely at the Character of the fine Gentleman, and takes
up with the Foppery of modern Languages and foreign Wit. The frightful Aspect
of the former of these Roads makes the Journey appear desperate and impracticable.
Hence that Aversion so generally conceiv'd against a learned Character, wrong
turn'd, and hideously set out, under such Difficultys, and in such seeming Labyrinths,
and mysterious Forms. As if a HOMER or a XENOPHON imperfectly learnt,
in raw Years, might not afterwards, in a riper Age, be study'd, as well in a Capital
City and amidst the World, as at a College, or Country-Town! Or as if a PLUTARCH, a
TULLY, or a HORACE cou'd not accompany a young Man in his Travels, at a Court,
or (if occasion were) even in a Camp! The Case is not without Precedent. Leisure
is found sufficient for other Reading of numerous modern Translations, and worse
Originals, of Italian or French Authors, who are read merely for Amusement. The
French indeed may boast of some legitimate Authors of a just Relish, correct, and
without any mixture of the affected or spurious kinds; the false Tender, or the false
Sublime; the conceited Jingle, or the ridiculous Point. They are such Genius's as have
been form'd upon the natural Model of the Antients, and willingly own their Debt
to those great Masters. But for the rest, who draw from another Fountain, as the
Italian Authors in particular; they may be reckon'd no better than the Corrupters
of true Learning and Erudition; and can indeed be relish'd by those alone, whose
206 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. For even rude Nature it-self, in its primitive SimAplicity, is a better
Guide to Judgment, than improv'd Sophistry, and pedantick[334]
Learning. The Faciunt, nae, intellegendo, ut nihil intellegant, will
be ever apply'd by Men of Discernment and free Thought to such
Logick, such Principles, such Forms and Rudiments of Knowledg,
as are establish'd in certain Schools of Literature and Science.
The case is sufficiently understood even by those who are unwilling
to confess the Truth of it. Effects betray their Causes. And the
known Turn and Figure of those Understandings, which sprout
from Nurserys of this kind, give a plain Idea of what is judg'd
on this occasion. 'Tis no wonder, if after soA wrong a ground of[335]
Education, there appears to be such need of Redress, and Amendment,
from that excellent School which we call the World. The
mere Amusements of Gentlemen are found more improving than
the profound Researches of Pedants. And in the Management of
our Youth, we are forc'd to have recourse to the former; as an Antidote
against the Genius peculiar to the latter. If the Formalists of
this sort were erected into Patentees, with a sole Commission of
Authorship; we shou'd undoubtedly see such Writing in our days,
as wou'd either wholly wean us from all Books in general,orat least
from all such as were the product of our own Nation, under such
a subordinate and conforming Government.A[336]
However this may prove, there can be no kind of Writing which
relates to Men and Manners, where it is not necessary for the
Author *to understand Poetical and Moral TRUTH, the Beauty of
Sentiments, the Sublime of Characters; and carry in his Eye the
Model or Exemplar of that natural Grace, which gives to every
Action its attractive Charm. If he has naturally no Eye, or Ear, for
these interior Numbers; 'tis not likely he shou'd be able to judg
better of that exterior Proportion and Symmetry of Composition,
which constitutes a legitimate Piece.
Education has unfortunately deny'd 'em the Familiarity of the noble Antients, and
the Practice of a better and more natural Taste. See above, p. 286, &c. and VOL. II.
p. 184, 185, 186.
* Supra, p. 208.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 207
Sect. 3.Cou'd we once convince our-selves of what is in it-self so evident;
*``That in the very nature of Things there must of necessity
be the Foundation of a right and wrong TASTE, as well in respect
of inward Characters and Features, as of outward Person, Behaviour,
and Action''; we shou'd be far more asham'd of Ignorance and
wrong Judgment in the former, than in the latter of these Subjects.
Even in the Arts, which are mere Imitations of that outward
Grace and Beauty, we not only confess a Taste; but make it a part
of refin'd Breeding, to discover, amidst theA many false Manners [337]
and ill Styles, the true and natural one, which represents the real
Beauty and VENUS of the kind. 'Tis the like moral GRACE, and
VENUS, which discovering it-self in the Turns of Character, and
the variety of human Affection, is copy'd by the writing Artist. If he
knows not this VENUS, these GRACES, nor was ever struck with
the Beauty, the Decorum of this inward kind, he can neither paint
advantageouslyafter the Life, nor in a feign'd Subject,where he has
full scope. For never can he, on these Terms, represent Merit and
Virtue, or mark Deformity and Blemish. Never can he with Justice
and true Proportion assign the Boundarys of either Part, or separate
the distant Characters. The Schemes must be defective, and
the Draughts confus'd, where the Standard is weakly establish'd,
and the Measure out of use. Such a Designer, who has so little Feeling
of these Proportions, so little Consciousness of this Excellence,
or these Perfections, will never be found able to describe a perfect
Character; or, what is more according to Art, **``express the Effect
and Force of this Perfection, from the Result of various and mixt
Characters of Life.''AAnd thus the Sense of inward Numbers, the [338]
Knowledg and Practice of the social Virtues, and the Familiarity
and Favour of the moral GRACES, are essential to the Character
of a deserving Artist, and just Favourite of the MUSES. Thus are
the Arts and Virtues mutually Friends: and thus the Science of Vir*
VOL. III. p. 164, 179, &c.
 Supra, p. 130, &c. and VOL. III. p. 182, 3, 4, 5, 6. in the Notes.
 Supra, p. 208.
** VOL. III. p. 260, 261, 2, 3. in the Notes.
208 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. tuoso's, and that of Virtue it-self, become, in a manner, one and
the same.
One who aspires to the Character of a Man of Breeding and
Politeness, is careful to form his Judgment of Arts and Sciences
upon right Models of Perfection. If he travels to ROME, he inquires
which are the truest Pieces of Architecture, the best Remains of
Statues, the best Paintings of a RAPHAEL, or a CARACHE. However
antiquated, rough, or dismal they may appear to him, at first
sight; he resolves to view 'em over and over, till he has brought
himself to relish 'em, and finds their hidden Graces and Perfections.
He takes particular care to turn his Eye from every thing which is
gaudy, luscious, and of a false Taste. Nor is he less careful to turn
his Ear from every sort of Musick, besides that which is of the best
Manner, and truest Harmony.
'Twere to be wish'd we had the same regard to a right TASTE in
Life andA Manners. What Mortal, being once convinc'd of a dif-[339]
ference in inward Character, and of a Preference due to one Kind
above another; wou'd not be concern'd to make his own the best?
If Civility and Humanity be a TASTE; if Brutality, Insolence, Riot,
be in the same manner a TASTE; who, if he cou'd reflect, wou'd
not chuse to form himself on the amiable and agreeable, rather
than the odious and perverse Model? Who wou'd not endeavour
to force NATURE as well in this respect, as in what relates to a Taste
or Judgment in other Arts and Sciences? For in each place the Force
on NATURE is us'd only for its Redress. If a natural good TASTE be
not already form'd in us; why shou'd not we endeavour to form it,
and become natural?--
``I like! I fansy! I admire!'' ``How?'' ``By accident: or as I please.''
``No. But I learn to fansy, to admire, to please, as the Subjects themselves
are deserving, and can bear me out. Otherwise, I like at this
hour, but dislike the next. I shall be weary of my Pursuit, and,
upon experience, find little *Pleasure in the main, if my Choice
and Judgment in it be from no other Rule than that single one, be*
Supra, p. 309. and VOL. II. p. 227, &c.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 209
Sect. 3.causeAI please. Grotesque and monstrous Figures often please. Cruel
Spectacles, and Barbaritys are also found to please, and, in some [340]
Tempers, to please beyond all other Subjects. But is this Pleasure
right? And shall I follow it, if it presents? Not strive with it, or endeavour
to prevent its growth or prevalency in myTemper?--How
stands the case in a more soft and flattering kind of Pleasure?--
Effeminacy pleases me. The Indian Figures, the Japan-Work, the
Enamel strikes my Eye.The luscious Colours and glossy Paint gain
upon my Fancy. A French or Flemish Style is highly lik'd by me, at
first sight; and I pursue my liking. But what ensues?--Do I not for
ever forfeit my good Relish? How is it possible I shou'd thus come
to taste the Beautys of an Italian Master, or of a Hand happily
form'd on Nature and the Antients? 'Tis not by Wantonness and
Humour that I shall attain my End, and arrive at the Enjoyment I
propose. The Art it-self is *severe: the Rules rigid. AndAif I expect [341]
* Thus PLINY, speaking with a masterly Judgment of the Dignity of the then
declining Art of Painting, (de Dignitate Artis morientis) shews it to be not only severe
in respect of the Discipline, Style, Design, but of the Characters and Lives of the
noble Masters: not only in the Effect, but even in the very Materials of the Art,
the Colours, Ornaments, and particular Circumstances belonging to the Profession.
--EUPHRANORIS Discipulus ANTIDOTUS, diligentior qum numerosior, & in coloribus
severus.--NICIAE comparatur, & aliquanto praefertur ATHENION Maronites,
GLAUCIONIS Corinthii Discipulus, & austerior colore, & in austeritate jucundior, ut
in ipsâ picturâ Eruditio eluceat. * * * Qud nisi in juventâ obiisset, nemo ei
compararetur.--PAUSIAE & Filius & Discipulus ARISTOLAUS  severissimis pictoribus
fuit.--Fuit & nuper gravis ac severus pictor AMULIUS. * * * Paucis diei
horis pingebat, id quoque cum gravitate, quod semper togatus, quamquam in machinis.
[Antidotus, a pupil of Euphranor, was more painstaking than prolific, and was
austere in his colouring. . . . Athenion of Maronea is compared with Nicias, but
greatly preferred to him. He was a pupil of Glaucion the Corinthian, rather gloomy
in colouring, yet pleasant in his gloom, so that his cultivation comes out in his very
painting. . . . Had he not died young, no one could be compared with him. . . .
Aristolaus, son and pupil of Pausias, was one of the most austere of painters. . . .
Lately too we had Amulius, a severe and serious painter. . . . He used only to paint
a few hours a day, but that very seriously, for he always wore full dress, even on his
scaffolding.--Pliny, H. N. xxxv. (cc. 37, 40) 119­137.] One of the mortal Symptoms
upon which PLINY pronounces the sure Death of this noble Art, not long survivor
to him, was what belong'd in common to all the other perishing Arts after the Fall of
Liberty; I mean the Luxury of the ROMAN Court, and the Change of Taste and Manners
naturally consequent to such a Change of Government and Dominion. This
210 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. the Knowledg shou'd come to me by accident, or in play; I shall
be grosly deluded, and prove my-self, at best, a Mock-Virtuoso, or
mere Pedant of the kind.''
HERE therefore we have once again exhibited our moral Science
in the same Method and Manner of SOLILOQUY as above. To this
Correction of Humour and Formation of a Taste, our Reading, if it
be of the right sort, must principally contribute.Whatever Company
we keep;A or however polite and agreeable their Characters[342]
may be, with whom we converse, or correspond: if the Authors we
read are of another kind, we shall find our Palat strangely turn'd
their way. We are the unhappier in this respect, for being Scholars;
if our Studys be ill chosen. Nor can I, for this reason, think it
proper to call a Man well-read who reads many Authors; since he
must of necessity have more ill Models, than good; and be more
stuff 'd with Bombast, ill Fancy, and wryAThought; than filľd with[343]
solid Sense, and just Imagination.
excellent, learned, and polite Critick represents to us the false Taste springing from
the Court it-self, and from that Opulence, Splendor, and Affectation of Magnificence
and Expence proper to the Place. Thus in the Statuary and Architecture then
in vogue, nothing cou'd be admir'd beside what was costly in the mere Matter or
Substance of the Work. Precious Rock, rich Metal, glittering Stones, and other luscious
Ware, poisonous to Art, came every day more into request; and were impos'd,
as necessary Materials, on the best Masters. 'Twas in favour of these Court-Beautys
and gaudy Appearances, that all good Drawing, just Design, and Truth of Work began
to be despis'd. Care was taken to procure from distant Parts, the most gorgeous
splendid Colours, of the most costly Growth or Composition: not such as had been
us'd by APELLES and the great Masters, who are justly severe, loyal, and faithful
to their Art. This newer Colouring our Critick calls the florid kind. The Materials
were too rich to be furnish'd by the Painter, but were bespoke or furnish'd at the
cost of the Person who employ'd him; (quos Dominus pingenti praestat.) The other
he calls the austere kind. And thus, says he, ``Rerum, non Animi pretiis excubatur:
The Cost, and not the Life, and Art, is study'd.'' He shews, on the contrary, what
care APELLES took to subdue the florid Colours, by a darkening Varnish; ut eadem
res, says he, nimis floridis coloribus Austeritatem occult daret. And he says just before,
of some of the finest Pieces of APELLES, ``That they were wrought in four Colours
only.'' So great and venerable was SIMPLICITY held among the Antients, and so
certain was the Ruin of all true Elegance in Life or Art, where this Mistress was once
quitted or contemn'd! See PLINY, Lib. 35. See also, above, p. 144. in the Notes; and
p. 222.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 211
Sect. 3.But notwithstanding this hazard of our Taste, from a Multiplicity
of Reading; we are not, it seems, the least scrupulous in our
choice of Subject.We read whatever comes next us.What was first
put into our hand, when we were young, serves us afterwards for
serious Study, and wise Research, when we are old. We are many
of us, indeed, so grave as to continue this Exercise of Youth thro'
our remaining Life.The exercising-Authors of this kind have been
above *describ'd, in the beginning of this Treatise. The Manner of
Exercise is calľd Meditation, and is of a sort so solemn and profound,
that we dare not so much as thorowly examine the Subject
on which we are bid to meditate. This is a sort of Task-Reading,
in which a TASTE is not permitted. How little soever we take of
this Diet; 'tis sufficient to give full Exercise to our grave Humour,
and allay the Appetite towards further Research and solid Contemplation.
The rest is Holiday, Diversion, Play, and Fancy. We
reject all Rule; as thinking it an Injury to our Diversions, to have
regard to Truth or Nature: without which, however, noAthing can be [344]
truly agreeable, or entertaining; much less, instructive, or improving.
Thro' a certain Surfeit taken in a wrong kind of serious Reading,
we apply our-selves, with full content, to the most ridiculous.
The more remote our Pattern is from any thing moral or profitable;
the more Freedom and Satisfaction we find in it. We care
not how Gothick or Barbarous our Models are; what ill-design'd or
monstrous Figures we view; or what false Proportions we trace, or
see describ'd in History, Romance, or Fiction. And thus our Eye
and Ear is lost. Our Relish or Taste must of necessity grow barbarous,
whilst Barbarian Customs, Savage Manners, Indian Wars,
and Wonders of the Terra Incognita, employour leisure Hours, and
are the chief Materials to furnish out a Library.
These are in our present Days, what Books of Chivalry were, in
those of our Forefathers. I know not what Faith our valiant Ancestors
may have had in the Storys of their Giants, their Dragons, and
* Pag. 164, 165, &c.
 Supra, p. 71, 72.
212 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. ST. GEORGE's. But forour Faith indeed, as well as our Taste, in this
other way of reading; I must confess I can't consider it, without
Astonishment.A[345]
It must certainly be something else than Incredulity, which fashions
the Taste and Judgment of many Gentlemen, whom we hear
censur'd as Atheists, for attempting to philosophize after a newer
manner than any known of late. For my own part, I have ever
thought this sort of Men to be in general more credulous, tho
after another manner, than the mere Vulgar. Besides what I have
observ'd in Conversation with the Men of this Character, I can
produce many anathematiz'd Authors, who if they want a true
Israelitish Faith, can make amends by a Chinese or Indian one. If
they are short in Syria, or the Palestine; they have their full measure
in America, or Japan. Historys of Incas or Iroquois, written by
Fryers and Missionarys, Pirates and Renegades, Sea-Captains and
trusty Travellers, pass for authentick Records, and are canonical,
with the Virtuoso's of this sort. Tho Christian Miracles may not so
well satisfy 'em; they dwell with the highest Contentment on the
Prodigys of Moorish and Pagan Countrys.They have far more Pleasure
in hearing the monstrous Accounts of monstrous Men, and
Manners; than the politest and best Narrations of the Affairs, the
Governments, and Lives of the wisest and most polish'd People.A[346]
'Tis the same Taste which makes us prefer a Turkish History to a
Grecian, or a Roman; an ARIOSTO to a VIRGIL; and a Romance, or
Novel, to an Iliad. We have no regard to the Character or Genius
of our Author: nor are so far curious, as to observe how able he is
in the Judgment of Facts, or how ingenious in the Texture of his
Lyes. For Facts unably related, tho with the greatest Sincerity, and
good Faith, may prove the worst sort of Deceit: And mere Lyes,
judiciously compos'd, can teach us the *Truth of Things, beyond
any other manner. But to amuse our-selves with such Authors as
* The greatest of Criticks says of the greatest Poet, when he extols him the highest,
``That above all others he understood how TO LYE:   
       .'' Arist. de Poet. cap. 24.--See
VOL. III. p. 260. in the Notes.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 213
Sect. 3.neither know how to lye, nor tell truth, discovers a TASTE, which
methinks one shou'd not be apt to envy. Yet so enchanted we are
with the travelling Memoirs of any casual Adventurer; that be his
Character, or Genius, what it will, we have no sooner turn'd over
a Page or two, than we begin to interest our-selves highly in his
Affairs. No sooner has he taken Shipping at the Mouth of the
Thames, or sent his Baggage before him to Gravesend, or Buoy in
the Nore, than strait our AttenAtion is earnestly taken up. If in order [347]
to his more distant Travels, he takes some Part of EUROPE in his
way; we can with patience hear of Inns and Ordinarys, PassageBoats
and Ferrys, foul and fair Weather; with all the Particulars of
the Author's Diet, Habit of Body, his personal Dangers and Mischances,
on Land, and Sea. And thus, full of desire and hope, we
accompany him, till he enters on his great Scene of Action, and
begins by the Description of some enormous Fish, or Beast. From
monstrous Brutes he proceeds to yet more monstrous Men. For in
this Race of Authors, he is ever compleatest, and of the first Rank,
who is able to speak of Things the most unnatural and monstrous.
This Humour our *old Tragick Poet seems to have discover'd.
He hit our Taste in giving us a Moorish Hero, full fraught with
Prodigy: a wondrous Story-teller! But for the attentive Part, the
Poet chose to give it to Woman-kind. What passionate Reader of
Travels, or Student in the prodigious Sciences, can refuse to pity
that fair Lady, who fell in Love with the miraculous MOOR; especiallyconsidering
with what sutable grace such a Lovercou'd relate
the most monstrous Adventures, and satisfy thewondring AppetiteA [348]
with the most wondrous Tales; Wherein (says the Hero-Traveller)
Of Antars vast, and Desarts idle,
It was my Hint to speak:
And of the Cannibals that each other eat!
The Anthropophagie! and Men whose Heads
Do grow beneath their Shoulders. These to hear
Wou'd DESDEMONA seriously incline.
* SHAKESPEAR.
214 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. Seriously, 'twas a woful Tale! unfit, one wou'd think, to win
a tender Fair-one. Iťs true, the Poet sufficiently condemns her
Fancy; and makes her (poor Lady!) pay dearly for it, in the end.
But why, amongst his Greek Names, he shou'd have chosen one
which denoted the Lady Superstitious, I can't imagine: unless, as
Poets are sometimes Prophets too, he shou'd figuratively, under
this dark Type, have represented to us,That about a hundred Years
after his Time, the Fair Sex of this Island shou'd, by other monstrous
Tales, be so seduc'd, as to turn their Favour chiefly on the
Persons of the Tale-tellers; and change their natural Inclination for
fair, candid, and courteous Knights, into a Passion for a mysterious
Race of black Enchanters: such as of old were said to creep into
Houses, and lead captive silly Women.A[349]
'Tis certain there is a very great Affinity between the Passion of
Superstition, and that of Tales. The Love of strange Narrations, and
the ardent Appetite towards unnatural Objects, has a near Alliance
with the like Appetite towards the supernatural kind, such as are
calľd prodigious, and of dire Omen. For so the Mind forebodes, on
every such unusual Sight or Hearing. Fate, Destiny, or the Anger
of Heaven, seems denoted, and as it were delineated, by the monstrous
Birth, the horrid Fact, or dire Event. For this reason the
very Persons of such Relators or Tale-tellers, with a small help of
dismal Habit, sutable Countenance and Tone, become sacred and
tremendous in the Eyes of Mortals, who are thus addicted from
their Youth. The tender Virgins, losing their natural Softness, assume
this tragick Passion, of which they are highly susceptible,
especially when a sutable kind of Eloquence and Action attends
the Characterof the Narrator. A thousand DESDEMONA's are then
ready to present themselves, and wou'd frankly resign Fathers, Relations,
Country-men, and Country it-self, to follow the Fortunes
of a Hero of the black Tribe.
But whatever monstrous Zeal, or superstitious Passion, the Poet
might foreAtel, either in the Gentlemen, Ladys, or common People,[350]
of an after Age; 'tis certain that as to Books, the same Moorish
Fancy, in its plain and literal sense, prevails strongly at this present
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 215
Sect. 3.time. Monsters and Monster-Lands were never more in request:
And we may often see a Philosopher, or aWit, run a Tale-gathering
in those idle Desarts, as familiarly as the silliest Woman, or merest
Boy.
ONE WOU'D imagine, that *our Philosophical Writers,who pretend
to treatA of Morals, shou'd far out-do mere Poets, in recom- [351]
* Considering what has been so often said on this Subject of Philosophy, Learning
and the Sister-Arts, after that antient Model which has since been so much corrupted;
it may not be amiss perhaps to hear the Confession of one of the greatest
and most learned of Moderns, upon this Head. ``Scilicet assensuri isti sunt veteribus
Sapientibus, Poeticam     , severissimae Philosophiae
contubernalem esse; quos videmus omni curâ morum posthabitâ, quae vera
Philosophia est, in nescio quibus argumentatiunculis, in nugis sophisticis, in puerilibus
argutiolis,  denique   , quod suâ jam aetate Euphrades
Themistius conquerebatur, summam sapientiam ponere! Scilicet facundiae PERSII
virile robur, aut recondita illa eruditio eos capiet, quibus pristinam barbariem mordics
retinere, & in Antiquitatis totius ignoratione versari, potius videtur esse ac melius, qum
possessionem literarum, olim simili socordiâ extinctarum, memoriâ ver patrum magno
Dei immortalis beneficio in lucem revocatarum ex altâ hominum oblivione, sibi vindicare,
& pro suâ quemque virili posteris asserere! * * * * * * * Scribit
vero ARRIANUS, sapientissimum senem illum EPICTETUM, impietatis in Deum eos insimulâsse,
qui in Philosophiae studiis    sive Sermonis curam
tanquam rem levem aspernarentur: quoniam quidem, aiebat virdivinus,  
      . En Germanum Philosophum! En
vocem auream! Nec minus memorabile Synesii Philosophi praestantissimi vaticinium
tristi eventu confirmatum, quod mult ant ab ipso est editum, cum rationem studiorum
similiter perverti ab aequalibus suis cerneret. Disputans enim contra eos qui ad
sanctissimae Theologiae studia Infantiam & Sophisticen pro solidâ eruditione afferrent,
fatidicam hanc quasi sortem edidit. , inquit,    
  . Periculum est ne ejusmodi homines in abyssum
quamdam ineptiarum delapsi penitus corrumpantur. Utinam defuisset huic Oraculo
fides. Sed profect, depravationi illi, & hujus Scientiarum Reginae, & omnium aliarum,
quae poste accidit, occasionem quidem Gotthorum & Alanorum invasiones praebuerunt:
at causa illius propior ac vera est, ratio studiorum perversa, & in liberalibus
Disciplinis prava Institutio, ac Linguarum simul & universae literaturae melioris
ignoratio. * * * * * Atqui non in eum cert finem viri magni & praecepta
& exempla virtutum memoriae commendata ad posteros transmiserunt, ut ad inanem
aurium oblectationem, vel jactationem vanam inutilis eruditionis, ea cognosceremus:
verm ut suis nos lucubrationibus excitarent ad effodienda & in actum producenda
RECTI HONESTIque semina; quae cm  Naturâ accepissemus, vitiis tamen circumfusa,
& tantm non obruta, sic in nosiris animis, nisi cultura melior accedat, latent,
quasi in altum quendam scrobem penitus defossa. Huc spectant tot illaVolumina quae de
216 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. mending Virtue, and representing what was fair and amiable in
humanA Actions. One wou'd imagine, that if they turn'd their Eye[352]
Morali Disciplinâ Philosophi confecerunt. Tendit eodem & Graecorum Latinorumque
Poetarum pleraque manus; sed itineribus diversis. Quot sunt enim Poetarum genera
(sunt autem quamplurima) tot fer diverticula & viarum ambages e ducentium.'' [Of
course those authors are going to agree with the sensible old tradition that poetry
(is the shrine of the most august philosophy) is the close companion of the most
serious philosophy; we see that those authors who have neglected every case of manners
make claim to the greatest wisdom which is true philosophy in who knows
what pathetic little arguments, in sophistic jests, in juvenile quibbles, finally dishonorable
. . . pet phrases of dialectics which even in their own age Euphrades and
Themistius deplored. Of course, the solid hardwood of the eloquence of Persius or
that profound scholarshipwill overtake them towhom it seems more important and
better to preserve unspoiled barbarity with biting words and to remain in ignorance
of the whole of antiquity than that the possession of a liberal education, formerly
destroyed by the same kind of negligence and restored into the light from the deep
oblivion of men by the memory of our ancestors with the great kindness of immortal
God, should free them and sow something for future generations in the place of
their own characters. Arrian writes that the very old wise man Epictetus has accused
of impiety against the gods men who in their study of philosophy the narrating capacity,
disdained the care of speech as a trivial thing: whereas indeed that inspired
man was saying that it is characteristic of an ungodly human being to dishonor the
things that come from the grace of god. See the German philosopher! Hear the
golden voice! Not less remarkable was the prophecy of the very distinguished philosopher
Synesius proven by a sad event which much earlier was announced by that
very man when he saw that the science of these studies was being undermined in
a similar way by his own contemporaries. He announced this prophecy just as if it
were fate, opposing the sort of men who would bring to the study of the most sacred
theology silliness and sophistry in the place of genuine scholarship. The danger is
that, having fallen into an abyss of nonsense, they are utterly destroyed. There is a
danger lest men of this sort, having sunk deeply into an abyss one might sayof absurdities,
might mislead.Would this prophecy had failed to be creditable! But certainly
the invasions of the Goths and Scythians indeed offered an occasion for this corruption
of both the queen of sciences which come to pass later: But the cause of this is
more recent and is the true one, the perverted system of studies both in a distorted
education in the liberal disciplines and the ignorance of languages and at the same
time of the whole body of better literature. But certainly great men have not to this
end transmitted both the precepts and examples of virtues committed to memory
so that we would learn these things for the vain delight of ears or the empty boasting
of useless pedantry. Doubtless the seeds of moral goodness and honor which,
although we had received them from nature but nevertheless surrounded by vices
and very nearly obscured, lie hidden in our minds just as if remotely buried in a
deep ditch, unless a better cultivation should occur so that they might stir us in our
night labors to excavate them and present them in public actions. For this purpose
so many men scrutinize those volumes which the philosophers have made about
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 217
Sect. 3.towards remote Countrys, (of which they affect so much to speak)
they shou'd search for that Simplicity of Manners, and Innocence
of Behaviour, which has been often known among mere Savages;
ere they were corrupted by our Commerce, and, by sad Example,
instructed in all kinds of Treacheryand Inhumanity. 'Twou'd be of
advantage to us, to hear the Causes of this strange Corruption in
our-selves, and be made to considerof our Deviation from Nature,
and from that just Purity of Manners which might be expected,
especially from a People so assisted and enlighten'd by Religion.
For who wou'd not naturally expect more Justice, Fidelity, Temperance,
and Honesty, from Christians, than from Mahometans, or
mere Pagans? But so far are our modern Moralists from condemning
any unnatural Vices, or corrupt Manners, whether in our own
or foreign Climates, that they wou'd have VICE it-self appear as
natural as VIRTUE; and from the worst Examples, wou'd represent
to us, ``That all Actions are naturally indifferent; that they have no
Note or Character of Good, or Ill, in themselves; but are distinguish'd
by mere FASHION, LAW, or arbitrary DECREE.'' Wonderful
Philosophy! rais'd from the Dregs of an illiterate meanA kind, [353]
which was ever despis'd among the great Antients, and rejected by
all Men of Action, or sound Erudition; but, in these Ages, imperfectly
copy'd from the Original, and, with much Disadvantage,
imitated and assum'd, in common, both by devout and indevout
Attempters in the moral kind.
Shou'd a Writer upon Musick, addressing himself to the Students
and Lovers of the Art, declare to 'em, ``That the Measure or
Rule of HARMONY was Caprice or Will, Humour or Fashion''; 'tis
not very likely he shou'd be heard with great Attention, or treated
with real Gravity. For HARMONY is Harmony by Nature, let Men
moral training. The majority of Greek and Latin poets stretch their hands to the
same place but by different paths. For how many kinds of poets there are (moreover
there are very many) just so many are the branches and labyrinths of paths leading
there.] Is. Casaub. in Praefatione Commentarii ad Pers. See above, pag. 190, 191, &c.
and 207, 208, 286. and 298, 299, and 333, &c. and 338, &c. And VOL. III. p. 61, 78,
79, &c. and 239, 240, 241. in the Notes.
218 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. judg ever so ridiculously of Musick. So is Symmetry and Proportion
founded still in Nature, let Mens Fancy prove ever so barbarous,
or their Fashions ever so Gothick in their Architecture, Sculpture,
or whatever other designing Art. 'Tis the same case, where Life
and MANNERS are concern'd. Virtue has the same fix'd Standard.
The same Numbers, Harmony, and Proportion will have place in
MORALS; and are discoverable in the Characters and Affections of
Mankind; in which are laid the just Foundations of an Art and
Science, superior to every other of human Practice and Compre-
hension.A[354]
This, I suppose therefore, is highly necessary, that a Writer
shou'd comprehend. For Things are stubborn, and will not be as
we fansy 'em, or as the Fashion varys, but as they stand in Nature.
Now whether the Writer be Poet, Philosopher, or of whatever kind;
he is in truth no other than a Copist after NATURE. His Style may
be differently suted to the different Times he lives in, or to the different
Humour of his Age or Nation: His Manner, his Dress, his
Colouring may vary. But if his Drawing be uncorrect, or his Design
contrary to Nature; his Piece will be found ridiculous, when
it comes thorowly to be examin'd. For Nature will not be mock'd.
The Prepossession against her can never be very lasting. Her Decrees
and Instincts are powerful; and her Sentiments in-bred. She
has a strong Party abroad; and as strong a one within our-selves:
And when any Slight is put upon her, she can soon turn the Reproach,
and make large Reprisals on the Taste and Judgment of her
Antagonists.
Whatever Philosopher, Critick, or Author is convinc'd of this Prerogative
of Nature, will easily be persuaded to apply himself to the
great Work of reforming his TASTE; which he will have reason to
suspect, if he be not such a one as has deliberately endeavour'd to
frame it by the justAStandard of Nature. Whether this be his Case,[355]
he will easily discover, by appealing to his Memory. For Custom
and Fashion are powerful Seducers: And he must of necessity have
fought hard against these, to have attain'd that Justness of Taste,
which is requir'd in one who pretends to follow Nature. But if no
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 219
Sect. 3.such Conflict can be calľd to mind; 'tis a certain token that the
Party has his Taste very little different from the Vulgar. And on
this account he shou'd instantly betake himself to the wholesom
Practice recommended in this Treatise. He shou'd set afoot the
powerfullest Facultys of his Mind, and assemble the best Forces
of his Wit and Judgment, in order to make a formal Descent on
the Territorys of the Heart: resolving to decline no Combat, nor
hearken to any Terms, till he had pierc'd into its inmost Provinces,
and reach'd the Seat of Empire. No Treatys shou'd amuse him; no
Advantages lead him aside. All other Speculations shou'd be suspended,
all other Mysterys resign'd; till this necessary Campaign
was made, and these inward Conflicts learnt; by which he wou'd
be able to gain at least some tolerable insight into himself, and
Knowledg of his own natural Principles.
IT MAY here perhaps be thought, that notwithstanding the particular
Ad Avice we have given, in relation to the forming of a TASTE [356]
in natural Characters and Manners; we are still defective in our
Performance,whilst we are silent on super-natural Cases, and bring
not into our consideration the Manners and Characters deliver'd
us in HolyWrit. But this Objection will soon vanish, when we consider,
that there can be no Rules given by humanWit, to that which
was never humanly conceiv'd, but divinely dictated, and inspir'd.
For this Reason, 'twou'd be in vain for any *Poet, or ingenious
Author, to form his Characters, after the Models of our sacred Penmen.
And whatever certain Criticks may have advanc'd concerning
the Structure of a heroick Poem of this kind; I will be bold to
prophesy, that the Success will never be answerable to Expectation.
It must be own'd, that in our sacred History we have both
Leaders, Conquerors, Founders of Nations, Deliverers, and Patriots,
who, even in a human Sense, are noway behind the chief of
those so much celebrated by the Antients. There is nothing in the
Story of AENEAS, which is not equaľd or exceeded by a JOSHUA or
* VOL. III. p. 240, 241. in the Notes.
220 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. a MOSES. But as illustrious as are the Acts of these sacred Chiefs,
'twou'd beA hard to copy them in just Heroick. 'Twou'd be hard to[357]
give to many of 'em that grateful Air, which is necessary to render
'em naturally pleasing to Mankind; according to the Idea Men are
universally found to have of Heroism, and Generosity.
Notwithstanding the pious Endeavours which, as devout Christians,
we may have us'd in order to separate ourselves from the
Interests of mere Heathens, and Infidels; notwithstanding the true
pains we may have taken, to arm our Hearts in behalf of a chosen
People, against their neighbouring Nations, of a false Religion, and
Worship; there will be still found such a Partiality remaining in us,
towards Creatures of the same Make and Figure with our-selves,
as will hinder us from viewing with Satisfaction the Punishments
inflicted by human Hands on such Aliens and Idolaters.
In mere Poetry, and the Pieces of Wit and Literature, there is
a Liberty of Thought and Easiness of Humour indulg'd to us, in
which perhaps we are not so well able to contemplate the Divine
Judgments, and see clearly into the Justice of those Ways, which
are declared to be so far from our Ways, and above our highest
Thoughts or Understandings. In such a Situation of Mind, we can
hardly endure to see HeathenA treated as Heathen, and the Faith-[358]
ful made the Executioners of the Divine Wrath. There is a certain
perverse Humanity in us, which inwardly resists the Divine Commission,
tho ever so plainly reveaľd. The Wit of the best Poet is
not sufficient to reconcile us to the Campaign of a JOSHUA, or the
Retreat of a MOSES, by the assistance of an EGYPTIAN Loan. Nor
will it be possible, by the Muses Art, to make that Royal Hero appear
amiable in human Eyes, who found such Favour in the Eye
of Heaven. Such are mere human Hearts; that they can hardly find
the least Sympathy with that only one which had the Character of
being after the Pattern of the ALMIGHTY's.
'Tis apparent therefore that the Manners, Actions, and Characters
of Sacred Writ, are in no wise the proper Subject of other
Authors than Divines themselves. They are Matters incomprehensible
in Philosophy: They are above the pitch of the mere human
Historian, the Politician, or the Moralist; and are too sacred to be
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 221
Sect. 3.submitted to the Poeťs Fancy,when inspir'd by no other Spirit than
that of his profane Mistresses, the MUSES.
I shou'd be unwilling to examine rigorously the Performance of
our great *Poet,A who sung so piously the Fall of Man. The War [359]
in Heaven, and the Catastrophe of that original Pair from whom
the Generations of Mankind were propagated, are Matters so abstrusely
reveaľd, and with such a resemblance of Mythology, that
they can more easily bear what figurative Construction or fantastick
Turn the Poet may think fit to give 'em. But shou'd he venture
farther, into the Lives and Characters of the Patriarchs, the
holy Matrons, Heroes and Heroines of the chosen Seed; shou'd
he employ the sacred Machine, the Exhibitions and Interventions
of Divinity, according to Holy Writ, to support the Action of his
Piece; he wou'd soon find the Weakness of his pretended Orthodox
MUSE, and prove how little those Divine Patterns were capable
of human Imitation, or of being rais'd to any other Majesty, or
Sublime, than that in which they originally appear.
The Theology, or THEOGONY, of the Heathens cou'd admit of
such different Turns and figurative Expressions, as suted the Fancy
and Judgment of each Philosopher or Poet. But the Purity of our
Faith will admit of no such Variation. The Christian THEOLOGY;
the Birth, Procedure, Generation, and personal Distinction of the
DIVINITY, are Mysterys only to be determin'd by the initiated,
or orAdain'd; to whom the State has assign'd the Guardianship and [360]
Promulgation of the Divine Oracles. It becomes not those who
are un-inspir'd from Heaven, and un-commission'd from Earth,
to search with Curiosity into the Original of those holy Rites and
Records, by Law establish'd. Should we make such an Attempt, we
should in probability find the less Satisfaction, the further we presum'd
to carry our Speculations. Having dar'd once to quit the
Authority and Direction of the Law, we shou'd easily be subject
to Heterodoxy and Error, when we had no better Warrant left us
for the Authority of our sacred SYMBOLS, than the Integrity, Candour,
and Disinterestedness of their Compilers, and Registers. How
* MILTON.
222 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. great that Candour and Disinterestedness may have been, we have
no other Historys to inform us, than those of their own licensing
or composing. But busy Persons, who officiously search into
these Records, are ready even from hence to draw Proofs very disadvantageous
to the Fame and Characterof this Succession of Men.
And Persons moderately read in these Historys, are apt to judg no
otherwise of the Temper of antient Councils, than by that of later
Synods and modern Convocations.
When we add to this the melancholy Consideration of what
Disturbances haveA been rais'd from the Disputes of this kind;[361]
what Effusion of Blood, what Devastations of Provinces, what
Shock and Ruin of Empires have been occasion'd by Controversys,
founded on the nicest Distinction of an Article relating to
these Mysterys; 'twill be judg'd vain in any Poet, or polite Author,
to think of rendring himself agreeable, or entertaining, whilst he
makes such Subjects as these to be his Theme.
But tho the Explanation of such deep Mysterys, and religious
Dutys, be allotted as the peculiar Province of the sacred Order; 'tis
presum'd, nevertheless, that it may be lawful for other Authors to
retain their antient Privilege of instructing Mankind, in a way of
Pleasure, and Entertainment. Poets may be allow'd their Fictions,
and Philosophers their Systems. 'Twou'd go hard with Mankind,
shou'd the Patentees for Religion be commission'd for all Instruction
and Advice, relating to Manners, or Conversation. The Stage
may be allow'd to instruct, as well as the Pulpit. The way of Wit
and Humour may be serviceable, as well as that of Gravity and
Seriousness: And the way of plain Reason as well as that of exalted
Revelation. The main matter is to keep these Provinces distinct,
and settle their just Boundarys. And on this account it is that we
have enAdeavour'd to represent to modern Authors the necessity of[362]
making this Separation justly, and in due form.
'Twould be somewhat hard, methinks, if RELIGION, as by Law
*establish'd, were not allow'd the same Privilege as HERALDRY. 'Tis
* VOL. III. p. 71, 231, 337.
ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR 223
Sect. 3.agreed on all hands, that particular Persons may design or paint,
in their private Capacity, after what manner they think fit: But
they must blazon only as the Publick directs. Their Lion or Bear
must be figur'd as the Science appoints; and their Supporters and
Crest must be such as their wise and gallant Ancestors have procur'd
for 'em. No matter whether the Shapes of these Animals hold
just Proportion with Nature. No matter tho different or contrary
Forms are join'd in one. That which is deny'd to Painters, or Poets,
is permitted to HERALDS. Naturalists may, in their separate and
distinct Capacity, inquire, as they think fit, into the real Existence
and natural Truth of Things: But they must by no means dispute
the authoriz'd Forms. Mermaids and Griffins were the Wonder of
our Forefathers; and, as such, deliver'd down to us by the authentick
Traditions and Delineations above-mention'd. We ought not
so much as to criticize the Features or DiAmensions of a Saracen's [363]
Face, brought by our conquering Ancestors from the holy Wars;
nor pretend to call in question the Figure or Size of a Dragon, on
which the History of our national Champion, and the Establishment
of a high Order, and Dignity of the Realm, depends.
But as worshipful as are the Persons of the illustrious Heralds
CLARENCIEUX, GARTER, and the rest of those eminent Sustainers
of British Honour, and Antiquity; 'tis to be hop'd that in a more
civiliz'd Age, such as at present we have the good fortune to live in,
they will not attempt to strain their Privileges to the same height
as formerly. Having been reduc'd by Law, or settled Practice, from
the Power they once enjoy'd, they will not, 'tis presum'd, in defiance
of the Magistrate and Civil Power, erect anew their Stages,
and Lists, introduce the manner of civil Combat, set us to Tilt and
Turnament, and raise again those Defiances, and mortal Frays, of
which their Order were once the chief Managers, and Promoters.
TO CONCLUDE: The only Method which can justly qualify
us for this high Privilege of giving ADVICE, is, in the first place,
to receive it, our-selves, with due Submission; where the Publick hasA [364]
vouchsaf'd to give it us, by Authority. And if in our private Ca-
224 ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR
Sect. 3. pacity, we can have Resolution enough to criticize ourselves, and
call in question our high Imaginations, florid Desires, and specious
Sentiments, according to the manner of SOLILOQUY above
prescrib'd; we shall, by the natural course of things, as we grow
wiser, prove less conceited; and introduce into our Character that
Modesty, Condescension, and just Humanity which is essential to the
Success of all friendly Counsel and Admonition. An honest HomePHILOSOPHY
must teach us the wholesom Practice within ourselves.
Polite Reading, and Converse with Mankind of the better
sort, will qualify us for what remains.
The End of the First Volume.
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