Three treatises: the first concerning art; the second concerning music, painting, and poetry; the third concerning happiness
From The Art and Popular Culture Encyclopedia
Related e |
Featured: |
Three treatises: the first concerning art; the second concerning music, painting, and poetry; the third concerning happiness [1] (1744) is a text by James Harris.
Full text
PrSHc Library
T,
CONCERNING
A R
2i A
D I A L O G U E
To the Right Honourable the
Earl of Shaftesbury.
My Lord,
THE following is a Converfatiori in its kind fomewhat uncom^ mon, and for this reafon I have remembered it more minutely than I could imagine. Should the fame Peculiarity prove a Reafon to amufe your Lordfhip, I fhall think myfelf well rewarded in the Labour of. reciting. If not, you are candid enough to accept of the Intention, and to think there is fome kind, of Merit even in the Sincerity of my Endeavours. To make no Jonger Preface, the Fact was as follows.
B 2 A
£ Concerning A R T,
A Fr i e n d from a diftant Country hav^ ing by chance made me a Vifit, we were tempted by the Serenity of a chearful Morn- ing in the Spring, to walk from S — r — m %o fee Lord T?—mbr-~kes at JV-4t--n. The Beauties of Gardening, Architecture, Paint- ing, and Sculpture belonging to that Seat, were the Subject of great Entertainment to my Friend s Nor was I, for my own part, lefs delighted than he was, to find that our Walk had fo well anfwered his Expectations. We had given a large Scope to our Curiofi- ty, when we left the Seat, and leifurely ber gan our return towards home.
And here, my Lord, in paffing over a few pleafant Fields, commenced the Con- verfation which I am to tell you, and which fell at firft, as was natural, ori the many curious Works, which had afforded us both fo elegant an Amufement. This led us in- fenfibly to difcourflng upoh ART, for we both agreed, that whatever we had been admiring of Fair and Beautiful, could all be
referre4
A I)l AJLt)GltE. 5
referred to no other Caufe. And here, I' well remember* I called upon my Friend to give me his Opinion upon the meaning of the Word ART: A Word it was (I told him) in the Mouth of every one $ but for all that* as to its precife and definite Idea, this might ftill be a Secret -> that fo it was in fad with & thoufand Words befide, all no lefs common 3 and equally familiar, and yet all of them equally Vague and undetermined* To this he anfwered, That as to the pre- eife and definite Idea of Art, it was a Que* ftion of fome Difficulty, and not fo foon to be f efolved ; that, however, he could not con- ceive a more likely Method of coming to know it, than by confidering thofe feveral Particulars, to each of which we gave the Name. It is hardly probable, faid he, that Mufic, Painting, Medicine, Poetry, Agriculture, and fo many more fhould be all called by one common Name, if there was not fomething in each, which was common to all. It fhould feem fo, replied I. What then, faid he, fhall we pronounce this to be ? A% this, I remember, I was under
B 3 fome
6 Concerning A R r T i
fome fort of Hefitation. Have Courage* cried my Friend* perhaps the Cafe is not fo defperate. Let me afk you — Is Medi- cine the Caufe of any thing ? Yes furely, faid I, of Health. And Agriculture,
of what ? Of the plentiful Growth of Grain. And Poetry, of what? Of Plays, and Satires, and Odes, and the like.
And is not the fame true, faid he, of Mufic, of Statuary, of Architecture, and, in fhort, of every Art whatever ? I confefs, faid I, it feems fo. Suppofe then, faid he, we fhould fay, It was common to every Art to be a Caufe, — - Should we err ? I replied, I thought not. Let this then, faid he, be remembered, that all Art isCaule,
I promifed him it fhould*
But how then, continued he, if all Art be Caufe^ is it alfo true, that all Caufe is Art ? At this again I could not help hehtating. You have heard, faid he,
without doubt, of that Painter famed in Story, who being to paint the Foam of a Hone, and not fucceeding to his Mind,
threw
^ Dialogue. 7
threw his Pencil at the Fi&ure in a Fit of Paffion and Defpair, and produced a Foam the mod natural imaginable. Now, what fay you to this Fact ? Shall we pro- nounce Art to have been the Caufe ? By no means, faid I. What, faid he, if in- ftead of Chance, his Hand had been guided by mere Compulfwn, himfelf diffenting and averfe to the Violence ? Even here, re- plied I, nothing could have been referred to his Art. But what, continued he, if in- itead of a cafual Throw, or involuntary Com- pulfion, he had willingly and deliberately direct- ed his Pencil, and fo produced that Foam,
which Story fays he failed in ?- Would
not Art here have been the Caufe ? I
replied, in this cafe, I thought it would. It mould feem then, faid he, that Art implies not only Caufe, but the additional •Requifite of Intention, Reafon, Volition, and Confcioufnefs -, fo that not every Caufe is Art, but only voluntary or intentional Caufe. So, faid I, it appears.
B 4 And-
8 Concerning ART,
And fhall we then, added he, pronounce every intentional Caufe to be*Art ? I fee
no reafon, faid I, why not. Confider,
faid he ; Hunger this Morning prompted you to eat. You were then the Caufe, and that too the intentional Caufe •, of con- fuming certain Food : And yet will you refer this Confumption to Art ? Did you chew by Art ? Did you fwallow by Art ? No certainly, faid I. So by
opening your Eyes, laid he, you are the intentional Caufe of Seeing, and by ftretch- ing your Hand, the intentional Caufe of Feeling; and yet will you affirm, that thefe things proceed from Art ? I mould be wrong, faid I, if I did : For what Art can there be in doings what every one is able to do by mere Will^ and a fort of uninflrudled Inflinff ? You fay right, replied he, and the reafon Is manifeft. Were it otherwife, we mould make all Mankind univerfal Ar- tifts in every fingle A&ion of their Lives. And what can be a greater Abfurdity than this ? I confeffed that the Abfurdity ap- peared
A Dialogue. 9
peared to be evident. But if nothing then, continued he, which we do by Com- pulfion, or without intending it, be Art y and not even what we do intentionally, if it pro- ceed from mere Will and uninjlruSied In- ftinft - y what is it we have left remaining, where Art may be found converfant ? Or can it indeed poffibly be in any thing elfe, than in that which we do by life, Praffiice, Experience ', and the like, all which are born with no one, but which are acquired all afterward by Advances unperceived* I can think, faid I, of nothing elfe. Let therefore the Words Habit and Habitual y faid he, reprefent this Requifite, and let us fay, that Art is not only a Caufe, but an intentional Caufe , and not only an inten* tknal Caufe, but an intentional Caufe found- ed in Habit, or, in other Words, an habi- tual Caufe. You appear, faid I, to argue rightly.
But if Art, faid he, be what we have now afferted, fomething learnt and acquired; if it be alfo a thing intentional
or
io Concerning ART,
or voluntary, and not governed either by
Chance or blind Necejjity- If this, I fay,
be the Cafe, then mark the Confequences. And what, faid I, are they ? The jBrft, laid he, is, that no Events, in what we call the natural World, mull be referred to Art\ fuch as Tides, Winds, Vegetation, Gravitation, Attraction, and the like. For thefe all happen by Hated Laws ; by a curi- ous NeceJJity, which is not to be withftood, and where the nearer and immediate Caufes appear to be utterly unconfcious. I con-
fefs, faid I, it feems fo. In the next
place, continued he, we mull: exclude all thofe admired Works of the Animal Worlds which, for their Beauty and Order, we me- taphorically call artificial The Spider's Web, the Bee's Comb, the Beaver's Houfe, and the Bird's Nell, mull all be referred to
another Source. For who can lay, thefe
ever learnt to be thus ingenious ? or, that they were ignorant by Nature, and knowing only by Education? None furely, re-
plied I. But we have Hill, faid he, a higher Confideration. And what, faid I,
is
^ Dialogue, ii
is that? It is, anfwered he, this
Not even that Divine Power, which gave Form to all things, then ac7ed by Art, when it gave that Form. For how, continued he, can that Intelligence, which has all Perfection ever in Energy, be fiippofed to have any Power, not original to its Nature^ How can it ever have any thing to learn y when it knows all from the Beginning ; or, being perfedl and complete, admit of what is additional and fecondary ? I fliould
think, faid I, it were impoffible. If fo, faid he, then Art can never be numbered among its Attributes : For all Art is fome- thing learnt, fomething fecondary and ac- quired, and never original to any Being, which poffeffes it. So the Fad:, faid I, has been eftablifhed.
If this therefore, continued he, be true; if Art belong not either to the Divine Nature, the Brute Nature, or the Inanimate
Nature, to what Nature fhall we fay it
does belong ? I know not, faid I, unlefs it be to the Human, You are right, faid
he|
j 2 Concerning A R T,
he < for every Nature elle you perceive xi cither too excellent to want it, or too bafe to be capable of it. Befide, except the Human, what other Nature is there left ? Or where elfe can we find any of the Arts already Inftanced, or indeed whatever others we may now fancy to enumerate ? Who are Statuaries, but Men ? Who Pilots, who Muficians? This feems, replied I, td be the Fa&*
Let us then, continued he, fay, not only that Art is a Caufe y but that it is Man becoming a Caufe •> and not only Man* but Man intending to do what is going to be done„ and doing it alfo by Habit; fo that its whole Idea, as far as we have
hitherto conceived it, is Man becoming
a Caufe \ Intentional and HabituaL I con- fels, faid I, it has appeared fo.
And thus, faid he, have you had exhi- bited a fort of a Sketch of Art . You muft re- member however, it is but a Sketch : there! is ftill fomething wanting to make it a
finished
'i? Dialogue. 13
finifhed Piece. I begged to know what this was. In order to that, replied he,
I cannot do better, than remind you of a PafTage in your admired Horace. It is con- cerning Alfenus-y who (if you remember) he tells us, though his Tools were laid afide, and his Shop fhut up, was frill an Artift as much as ever.—*—
. — ,-,— Alfenus wafer omni Abjeflo injirumento Artis, claufdq-, tabema, Sutor er at .— ^— «- I remember,
faid I, the PafTage, but to what purpofe is it quoted ? Only, replied he, to ihew you ? that I mould not be without Prece- dent, were I to affirm it not abfolutely ne- ceflary to the being of Art, that it mould be Man actually becoming a Caufe j but that it was enough, if he had the Power or Capo* city of fo becoming. Why then, faid I, did you not fettle it fo at firft ? Becaufe, replied he, Faculties, Powers, Capacities (call them as you will) are in them- felves abftrad: from A&ion, but obfcure and hidden things. On the contrary. Energies find Operations lie open to the Senfes, and
cannot:
14 Concerning ART,
cannot but be obferved, even whether we will or no. And hence therefore, when firft we treated of Art, we chofe to treat of it, as of a thing only in Energy. Now we better comprehend it, we have ventured fomewhat farther. Repeat then, faid I, if you pleafe, the Alteration, which you have made. At firft, anfwered he, we reafoned upon Art, as if it was only Man actually becoming a Caufe intentional and habitual. Now we fay it is a Power in Man of becoming fuch Caufe; and that, though he be not aBually in the Exercife of fuch a Power. I told him, his Amende inent appeared to be juft.
There is too another Alteration, added he, which, for the fake of Accuracy, is equally wanting $ and that is with reiped: to the Epithet, Intentional or Voluntary. And what, faid I, is that ? We have agreed it, replied he, to be neceffary, that all Art fhould be under the Guidance of Intention or Volition^ fo that no Man a&ing by Com-* pulfion^ or by Chance^ fhould be called
A Dialogue. 15
an Artijt. We have. Now tho*
this, faid he, be .true, yet it is not fufficient. We muft limit this Intention or Volition to a peculiar Kind. For were every little Fancy, which we may work up into Habit, a fufficient Foundation to conftitute an Art, we mould make Art one of the loweft and moft deipicable of things. The meaneft Trick of a common juggler might, in fuch cafe, entitle a Man to the Charadter of ant Artift. I confefTed, without fome Lirru> tation, that this might be the Confequence. But how limit Intentions to a Kind or Species ? What think you, replied he, if we were to do it, by the Number and Dignity of the Precepts^ which go to the directing of our Intentions ? You mud explain, faid I ; for your Meaning is ob- fcure. Are there not Precepts, replied he, in Agriculture, about Ploughing and Sow- ing ? Are there not Precepts in Archi- tecture, about Orders and Proportions ? Are there not the fame in Medicine, in Navigation, and the reft? There are. And what is your Opinion of thefe
feveral
1 6 Concerning ART,
feveral Precepts ? Are they arbitrary and capricious ; or rational and Jleady ? Are they the Inventions of a Day ; or well- approved by long Experience ? I told him, I ihould conlider them for the mod as rational, fteady, and well-approved by long Experience. And what, continued he, fhall we fay to their Number ? Are they few ? Or are they not rather fo ?7umerous > that in every particular Art, fcarce any comprehend them all, but the feveral Ar- tifts themfelves ; and they only by length of time, with due Attendance and Appli- cation ? I replied, It feemed fb. Suppofe then We were to pronounce, that to every Art there was a Syjlem of fuch various and well-approved Precepts : Should we err ? No certainly. And fuppofe we fhould fay, that the Intention of every Artift, in his feveral Art, was directed by fuch a Syjlem : Would you allow this ? Surely. And will not this limiting of Intentions to fuch only, as are fo directed, fufficiently diftinguifh Art from any thing clfe which may refemble it ? -**-- In other
words,
f ^ Dialogue. 1 \j
words, Is it likely, under this Diftinction, to be confounded with other Habits of a trifling, capricious and inferior Kind ? I replied, I thought not.
Let us then fee, faid he, and colleclt all that we have faid, together. We have already agreed, that the "Power of affii?ig after a certain manner is fufficient to con- flitute Art, without the actually operating agreeably to that Power. And We have now farther held the Intentions of every Artift to be directed by a Syjiem of various and well-approved Precepts. Befides all this,' we fettled it before, that all Art was founded in Habit ; and was peculiar to Man ; and was feen by becoming the Caufe of fome Ef- fect. It mould feem then, that the whole
Idea of Art was this An habitual
Power in Man of becoming the Cause of some Effect, accord- ing to a System of various and well-approved PreceptsJ I replied, That his Account appeared to be probable and juft.
C §. 2 ;
1 8 Concerning ART,- \ %
§. 2. An d now then, continued he, as we have gone thus far, and have fettled between us what we believe Art to be ; lhall we go a little farther, or is your Patience at an end ? Oh ! no, replied I, not if any thing be left. We have walked fo leifurely, that much remains of our Way ; and I can think of no Method, how we may better amufe ourfelves.
M y Friend upon this proceeded with fay- ing, that if Art were a Cauf e > (as we had agreed it was) it muft be the Caufe of feme- i thing. Allow it, faid I. An d if it be ' the C aufe of fomething, it muft have a Sub- jett to operate on. For every Agent has need ^ of its Patient ; the Smith of his Iron, the r *^. Carpenter of his Wood, the Statuary of his Marble, and the Pilot of his Ship. I anfwered, It was true. If then,
faid he, the Subjects of particular Arts be thus evident : What Idea fhall we form of that univerfal Subjeff y which is common to all Art? At this Queftion, it muft be con- feffed, I was a little embarafled,
X
A Dialogue* 19
This induced him to afk me* How many forts of Subje&s I allowed of ? Here I could not help hefitating again* There
is nothing, continued he, fo difficult in the Queftion. You muft needs perceive, that all Natures whatever can be but either con- tingent or necejfary. This may be, re^ plied 1 1 but even yet I do not comprehend you. Not comprehend me ! faid he $
then anfwer me a Queflion : Can you con- ceive any Medium between Motion and No-* Motion^ between Change and No^Change ?
I replied, I could not. If not,
can you conceive any tiling hi the whole Order of Beings which muft not be either liable to thefe, or not liable ? Nothing*
Call thofe things therefore, faid he, W.hich are liable to Change and Motion^ con- tingent Natures - y and thofe, which are not liable^ necejfary Natures: And thus you have a Divijion, in which all things are in<* eluded. We have fo, faid I.
C 2 In
20 Concerning A R f ,
In which therefore, faid he, of thefe Na- tives rfiall we feek for this common Subject of Art ? To this, I told him, I was unable to anfwer. Refled, faid he, a little.
We have found Art to be a Caufe.
We have. And is it not effentialto every Caufe to operate ? or can it be a Caufe, and be the Caufe of nothing ? Impoffible.
Wherever therefore there is Caufe, there is neceffarily implied fome Operation.
There is. And can there poffibly be Operation, without Motion and Change ?
There cannot. But Change and
Motion muft needs be i?icompatihle with what is neceffary and immutable. They
muft. So therefore is Caufe. It muft.
And fo therefore Art. It muft.
Truth therefore, faid he, and Know- ledge 5 Principles and Demonftrations j the general and intelleftual Effences of Things ; in ihort, the whole immutable and neceffary Nature is no part of it reducible to a SubjeS of Art. It feems fo, faid I.
If
^Dialogue. 21
If therefore Art, faid he, have nothing to do with the Jleady, abjlratt, and ne- cejfary Nature, it can have only to do with the tranfient, the particular, and contingent one. 'Tis true, faid I; for
there is no other left. And mall we
then fay, replied he, it has to do with all contingent Natures existing in the Univerfe ? For aught, replied I, which to me ap- pears contrary. What think you, faid he, of thofe Contingents of higher Order ? fuch as the grand Planetary Syftem; the Succeffion of the Seafons ; the regular and uniform Courfe of all fuperior Natures in the Univerfe ? Has Art any Ability to intermeddle here ? No certainly, faid I. Thefe fuperior Contingents then, which move without Interruption, are, it feems, above it. They are. And fhall we fay the fame of thofe of lower fort; thofe, whofe Courfe we fee often inter- rupted; thofe, which the Strength and Cun- ning of Man are able to influence and con- troul? Give Inftances, faid I, of what C 3 you
22 Concerning ART,
you mean, I mean, faid he, Earth*
Water, Air, Fire ; Stones, Trees - y Ani- mals; Men themfelves. Are thefe Con- tingents within the reach of Art, or has Art here no Influence ? I mould think,
faid I, a very great one.
If this, continued he, be true, it mould feem that the common or universal Subject of Art was — all those con- tingent Natures, which lie within the reach of the Human Powers to influence. I acknowledge, faid I 3 it appears fo.
Thus far then, faid he, we have ad- vanced with tolerable Succefs. We have gained fome Idea of Art^ and fome Idea of its SubjeB. Our Inquiry, on the whole, has informed us, that Art is * — - an habi-* tual "Power in Man of becoming a certain
Caufe—— and that its Subject is every
fuch contingent Nature \ which lies within the reach of the human Powers to influence.
§•3
^Dialogue. 23
§. 3 . Tis true, faid I, this appears to have been the Refult of our Inquiry, and a full and ample one it feems to have been. A long one, replied he, if you pleafe, but not a full and ample one. Can any
thing, laid I, be wanting, after what you have faid already? Certainly, replied
he, a great deal. We have talked much indeed of Art, confidered as a Caufe - y and much of the SubjeB, on which it operates - 7 but what moves thefe Operations to com- mence, and where it is they end, thefe are Topicks, which we have as yet little thought of. I begged him then, that
we might now confider them,
He was willing, he faid, for his part, and immediately went on by afking, What I thought was the Beginning of Art ? I mean, faid he, by Beginning, that Caufe for the fake of which it operates, and which being fuppofed away, Men would be never moved to follow it. To this, I told him,
J was unable to anfwer. You will not
C 4 think
24 Concerning ART,
think it, faid he, fo difficult, when you have a little more confidered. Reflect
with yourfelf Was it not the Abfence
of Health, which excited Men to cultivate the Art of Medicine ? I replied, it was. What then, faid he, if the Human Body had been fo far perfect and felf- fufficient, as never to have felt the Viciffi- tudes of Well and III: Would not then this Art have been wholly unknown ? I replied, I thought it would. And
what, faid he, if we extend this Perfection a degree farther, and fuppofe the Body not only thus healthful^ but withal fo robujl, as to have felt no Uneafinefs from all Incle- mencies of Weather : Would not then the Arts of Building alfo and Clothing have been as ufelefs, as that of Medicine ? I replied, It feemed they would. But
what, faid he, if we bound not this Per- fection of ours even here ? What if we fuppofe, that not only Things merely necef fary, but that thofe alfo conducive to Ele- gance and Enjoyment were of courfe all implied in the Conflitution of Human Na- ture -,
y? Dialogue. 25
ture ; that they were all fteady, conflant, and independant from without, and as in- feparable from our Being, as Perfpiring, or Circulation : In fuch cafe, would not the Arts of Mufic, Painting and Poetry, with every other Art paffing under the Denomi- nation of Elegaiit, have been as ufelefs, as we have held thofe others of Medicine, Clothing, and Architecture? I replied, It feemed they would. It was then the Abfence of Joys, Elegancies, and Amufe- ments from our Constitution, as left by Nature, which induced us to feek them in thefe Arts of Elegance and Entertainment, It was. And what, faid he, are
Joys, Elegancies, Amufements, Health, Robuftnefs, with thofe feveral other ObjeBs of Defre, whofe Abfence leads to Art, but fo many different Names of that complex Being called Good, under its various, and multi- form, and popular Appearances ? I re- plied, It feemed fo»
If this then, faid he, be granted, it fliould feem that the Beginning or Prin- ciple
26 Concerning A R T,
ciple of Art was the Abfence of fomething thought Good; becaufe it has appeared that it is for the fake of fome fuch abfent Good that every Art operates - y and becaufe, if we fuppofe no fuch Abfence to have been, we fhould never have known any Art. I confefs, faid I, it feems fo.
But how then, continued he? If it be true that all Art implies fuch Principle, is it reciprocally true, that every fuch Principle mould imply Art ? I fee no
reafon, faid I, why not, Confider,
faid he. It might be thought a Good by fome perhaps, to be as ftrong as thofe Horfes, which are ploughing yonder Field $ to be as tall as thofe Elms, and of a Nature
as durable. Yet would the Abfence of
Goods, like tkefe, lead to Art ? Or is it not abfio'd to fuppofe, there mould be an Art of Impofibilites ? Abfurd, faid I, cer-
tainly. If fo, faid he, when we define
the Beginning or Principle of Art, it is not enough to call it the Abfence of fomething thought Good) unlefs we add 3 that the Good
be
^ Dialogue. 27
be a Good Pojfibk; a Thing attainable by Man ; a Thing relative to Human Life, and confident with Human Nature : Or does not this alfo appear a Requifite ? I replied,
I thought it did.
But ftill, continued he Is it a fuf-
ficient Motive to Art, that the Good dejired fhould be attainable? In other Words, does every Abfence of Good attainable lead to Art, or is our Account ftill too loofe, and Jn need of ftridter Determination ? Of none, faid I, which appears to me, Jlefleft, faid he ; there are fome of the pof Jible Goods fo obvious and eafy, that every Man, in an ordinary State of common na- tural PerfeBion y is able to acquire them, without Labour or Application. You will hardly deny but that a fair Apple, tempting to eat, may be gathered; or a clear Spring, tempting to drink, may be drank at, by the mere Suggeftions of Will and unin- JfruSed Inflinffi. I granted, they might* It would be therefore impertinent, laid he, to fuppofe that Gpods, like thefe,
fhould
2§ Concerning ART,
fhould lead to Art, becaufe Art would be fuperfluous, and in no refpect neceifary. Indeed, faid I, it feems fo.
If therefore, faid he, neither Irnpqflibks lead to Art) becaufe of fuch there can be no Art 5 nor Things eafily pojjible, becaufe in fuch Nature can do without Art : what is it we have left, to which we may refer it ? Or can it indeed be to any other than to that middle Clafs of Things, which, however pof- fible, are ftill not fo eafy, but to be beyond the Powers of Will, and Inftinc~t unin- ftructed ? I replied, It feemed fo.
That there are many fuch things, faid he, is evident part doubt. For what Man would pay Artifts fo largely for their Arts, were he enabled by Nature to obtain what- ever he defired ? Or who would ftudy to be {killed in Arts, were Nature's original Powers to be in all refpecls fufficient ? I told him, It was not likely.
It fhould feem then, faid he, according %o this Reafoning, that the Beginning, Mo~
five.
v^ Dialogue. 29
' tive, or Principle of Art ; that Caufe y which firft moved it to A5tion y and, for the fake of which its feveral Operations are exerted, is—— the Want or Absence of some- thing appearing Good; relative to Human Life, and attainable by Man, but superior to his natural and uninstructed faculties. I replied, I could not deny, but that the Account appeared probable.
§.4. Let this then, faid he, fuffice, as to the Beginning of Art. But how mall we defcribe its End? What is it we mail pro- nounce this ? My Anfwer, I replied, muft be the fame as often already ; which was indeed, that I could not refolve the Queftion. It mould feem, faid he, not fo difficult, now we have difcovered what Beginning is. For if Beginning and End are Contraries and oppofed, it is but to invert , as it were, the Notion of Begin- ning, and we gain of courfe the Notion of End. I afked him, In what manner ? Thus, faid he, the Beginning of Art has
been
30 . ' Cone er ?itng ART*,
been held to htfomething, which, iffuppofed away. Men would be never moved to apply to Art, By Inverfion therefore the End of Art muft be fomething, which, while fuppofed away. Men will never ceaje applying to Art $ becaufe, were they to ceafe, while the End was wanting, they would ceafe with Im-* perfection, and their Performance would be incomplete. To this I anfwered, That
the Account, however true, was by far too general, to give me much Intelligence*
He replied. If it was, he would endea^ vour to be more particular. And what, continued he, fhould we fay, that every Art, according to its Genius, will of courfe be accomplijhed either in fome Energy, or in {ome IVork; that, beiides thefe two, it can be accomplifhed in nothing elfe • and con* fequently that one of thefe muft of necefjity be its End? I could not here but anfwer him with a Smile, That the Matter was now much obfeurer than ever. I find
then, faid he, it is proper we fhould be more explicit in our Inquiries, and deduce our
Reafon-
A Dialogue. 31
Reafonings from fome clearer Point of View. I told him, It was quite necef-
fary, if he intended to be intelligible.
Thus then, faid he. You will grant, that every Art, being a Caufe, mujl be productive " of fome Effect-, for inftance, Mufic, of a Tune ; Dancing, of a Dance ; Architecture, of a Palace 3 and Sculpture, of a Statue. 'Tis allowed, faid I. You will
grant alfo, faid he r that in thefe Productions they are all accompliflied and ended: Or, in other words, that as Mufic produces a Tune, fo is it ended and accomplished in a Tune> and as Sculpture produces a Statue, fo is it ended and accomplished in a Statue. 'Tis admitted, faid I. Now thefe Pro-
ductions, continued he, if you will examine, are not like Units or Mathematical Points; but, on the contrary, all co7ifiJl of a certain Number of Parts, from whofe accurate Or- der is derived their Beauty and Perfection. For example $ Notes, ranged after fuch a manner, make a Tune in Mufic ; and Limbs, ranged after fuch a manner, make a
Statue
32 Concerning ART,
Statue or a Pidture. I replied, They dicL If then the Productions, continued he, of every Art thus confift of certain Parts$ it will follow, that thefe Parts will be either co-exiflent, or not; and if not co-exijlent, then of courfe fuccejjive. Affift me,
faid I, by another Inftance, for you are growing again obfcure. Co-exijlent, re-
plied he, as in a Statue, where Arms, Legs, Body, and Head allfubjiji together at one in- dividual Injlant : Succejfive, as in a Tune or Dance, where there is no fuch Co-exiftence, but where fome Parts are ever pajjing away t and others are ever fucceeding them.
Can any thing be faid to exifl, faid I, whofe Parts are ever pajjing away 1 ? Surely, replied he, or how elfe exift Years and Seafons, Months and Days, with their
common Parent, 'Time itfelf ? Or indeed
what is Human Life, but a Compound of Parts thus fleeting - y a Compound of various and multiform Anions, which fucceed each other in a certain Order ? The Fad:,
faid I, appears fo.
This
A Dialogue, 33
This then, continued he, being the cafe, and there being this Difference in Produc- tions, call every Production, the Parts of which exiji fmcejjively, and whofe Nature hath its Being or EJfence in a Tranfition, call it, what it really is, a Motion or an Energy— Thus a Tune and a Dance are Energies ; thus Riding and Sailing are Energies ; and fo is Elocution, and fo is Life itfelf. On the contrary, call every Production, whole Parts exifi nil at once, and whofe Nature de- fends not on a Tranjition for its EJfence, call it a Work, or Thing done, not an Energy
or Operation. -Thus a Houfe is a Work,
a Statue is a Work, and fo is a Ship, and fo a Pidture* I feem, faid I, to compre- hend you.
If then there be no Productions, faid he, but muft be of Parts, either co-exiftent or fucceffwe-, and the one of thefe be, as you perceive, a Work, and the other be an Energy*, it will follow, there will be no Production^ but will be either a Work or an D Energy,
34 Concerning ART,
Energy. There will not, faid I. But every Art, faid he, you have granted, is accomplijhed and ended in what it produces ? I replied, I had. And there are
no Productions, but Works or Energies ? None.
It will follow then, faid he, that every Art will be accomplished and ended in a Work or Energy.
To this I anfwered, That his Reafoning I could not impeach - y but that ftill the Di~ ftinCtion of Work and Energy was, what I did not well comprehend. There are
feveral Circumftances, faid he r which will ferve fufficiently to make it clear. I begged he would mention fome.
Thus then, faid he< — When the Pro- duction of any Art is an Energy, then the Perfection of the Art can be only perceived during that Energy. For inftance, the Per- fection of a Mulician is only known, while he continues playing. But when the Pro- duction
^ Dialogue. 35
dudtion of any Art is a Work, then is not the Perfection vifible during the Energy, but only after it. Thus the Perfection of the Sta- tuary is not fern during his Energies as a Statuary, but when his Energies are over; when no Stroke of the Chizzel is wanting, but the Statue is left, as the Refult of all. 'Tis true, faid I.
Again, continued he,— in confe-
quence of this, where the Production is an Energy, there the Production is of NeceJJity co-eval with the Artift. For how mould the Energy furvive the Man $ the Playing remain, when the Mufician is dead ? But where the Production is a Work, then is there no fuch NeceJJity. The Work may well remain, when the Artift is forgotten - y there being no more reafon, that the Statue and the Artift mould be co-eval, than the Man and the rude Marble, before it received a regular Figure. You feem now 3 faid 1^
to have explained yourfelf.
D 2 1*
36 Concerning A R T,
.If then, faidhe, Work and Energy* be made intelligible Terms, you cannot but perceive the Truth of what we before af-
ferted that every Art, according to its
Genius, mujl needs be accomplijhed in one of thefe -, that, except in thefe two, it can be ac- complijhed in nothing elfe ; and confequenfly
that ONE OF THESE MUST OF NECESSITY
be its End. I anfwered, That the
Reafoning appeared juftly deduced. So
much then, replied he, for the Ending or Accomplishment ofArt-, and fo much alfo for a long, and, I fear, an intricate Difqui- lit ion,
§.5. He had no fooner laid this, than I Was beginning to applaud him ; efpecially on his having treated a Subject fo copioufly, ftarted, as it were, by Chance, and without any apparent Preparation. But I had not gone far, before he interrupted me, by fay- ing, That as to my Praifes they were more than he deferved ; that he could pretend to no great Merit for having been, as I called
it,
'^ Dialogue. 37
it, fo copious, when he had fo often before thought, on what at prefent we had been talking. In fhort, fays he, to tell you a Secret, I have been a long time amufing myfelf, in forming an Effay upon this Sub- ject, I could not here forbear reproach- ing him, for having hitherto concealed his Intentions, My Reproaches produced a fort of amicable Controverfy, which at length ended in his offerings That, to make me fome amends, he would now recite me (if I pleafed) a fmall Fragment of the Piece $ a Fragment, which he had happened acci- dentally to have about him. The Propofal, on my part, was willingly accepted, and without farther Delay, the Papers were produced.
As to the Performance itfelf, it muftbe conferled, in point of Stile, it was fomewhat high and florid, perhaps even bordering upon an Excefs. At the time however of recital, this gave me lefs Offence, becaufe it feemed, as it were, to palliate the Drynefs of what had paffed before, and in fome fort D 3 to
3 8 Concerning ART,
to fupply the Place of an Epilogue to our Conference. Not however to anticipate, he began reading as follows.
"OArt! Thou Praife of Man, and €C Ornament of Human Life! PorTeffed of <c Thee, the meaneft Genius grows defend <c ing, and has a juft Demand for a Portion <c of our Efteem. Devoid of Thee, the cc Brighter! of our Kind lie loft and ufelefs, u and are but poorly diftinguifhed from <c the moft Defpicable and Bafe. When cc we inhabited Forefts in common with <c Brutes, nor otherwife known from them
- c than by the Figure of our Species j Thou
- c taughteft us to affert the Sovereignty of our
- c Nature, and to affume that Empire, for
- c which Providence intended us. Thou-*
- < fands of Utilities owe their Birth to Thee;
- c thoufands of Elegancies, Pleafures, and
- c Joys, without which Life itfelf would be
- c but an infipid Poffeffion.
"Wide and extenfive is the Reach
- fgf thy Dominion. No Element is
« there
^ Dialogue. 39
- there either fo violent or (ofukle, fo yield-
<c ing or iojluggijh) as by the Powers of its " Nature to be fuperior to thy Direction. <c Thou dreadeft not the fierce Impetuofity " of Fire, but compelled: its Violence to " be both obedient and ufeful. By it Thou " foftenefl: the ftubborn Tribe of Minerals, " fo as to be formed and moulded into " Shapes innumerable. Hence Weapons, " Armour, Coin ; and previous to thefe, " and other Thy Works and Energies^ " hence all thofe various Tools and Inftru- cc ments, which empower Thee to proceed " to farther Ends more excellent. Nor is
- c the fubtle A 1 r lefs obedient to Thy
£C Power, whether Thou willeft it to be a " Minifter to our Pleafure, or Utility. At cc Thy Command it giveth Birth to Sounds, " which charm the Soul with all the Powers " of Harmony. Under thy Inftrudlion it (C moves the Ship o'er Seas, while that <c yielding Element, where otherwife we " fink, even Water itfelf is by Thee cc taught to bear us -, the vaft Ocean to pro- cc mote that Jntercourfe of Nations, which D 4 Igno-
40 Concerning ART,
" Ignorance would imagine it was deftined " to intercept. Tofayhowthy Influence is sc feen on Earth, would be to teach " the meaneft, what he knows already. " Suffice it but to mention Fields of Arable u and Pafture ; Lawns and Groves, and " Gardens, and Plantations; Cottages, Vil-
- c lages, Caftles, Towns; Palaces, Temples,
■ c and ipacious Cities.
"Nor does thy Empire end in Subjects ic thus in-animate \ Its Power alfo extends "thro 3 the various Race of Animals, " who either patiently fubmit to become cc thy Slaves, or are fure to find Thee an ir- « refiftible Foe. The faithful Dog, the " patient Ox, the generous Horfe, and the
- c mighty Elephant, are content all to re-
" ceive their Inftrudions from Thee, and u readily to lend their natural htftinSis or " Strength, to perform thofe Offices, which " thy Occafions call for. If there be found w any Species, which are ferviceable when H dead, Thou fuggefteft the Means to in- i* vefligatd and take them. If any be fo
favage,
^Dialogue. 41
" favage, as to refufe being tamed ; or of
- Natures fierce enough, to venture an At-
w tack ; Thou teacheft us to fcorn their
- c brutal Rage -> to meet, repel, purfue, and
" conquer.
"And fuch, O Art ! is thy amazing « Influence, when Thou art employed only ?* on thefe inferior Subjects ; on Natures JSz- i* animate, or at beft Irrational. But when- cc e'er Thou choofeft a Subjeff more noble 9
- c and fetteft to the cultivating of Mind
<c itfelf, then 'tis Thou becomeft truly ami- << able and divine ; the ever flowing Source <c cf thofe fublimer Beauties, of which no " SubjeB but Mind alone is capable. Then " 'tis Thou art enabled to exhibit to Man- " kind the admired Tribe of Poets and of ? c Orators 5 the facred Train of Patriots and ? c of Heroes ; the godlike Lift of Philofo- fC phers and Legiflators; the Forms of wr- ? c tuous and equal . Polities, where private " Welfare is made the fame with public ; " where Crowds themfelves prove dik
c< interefted
42 Concerning ART,
<c interefted and brave, and Virtue is made " a national and popular Chara&eriftic.
"Hail ! facred Source of all thefe cc Wonders ! Thyfelf inftrudt me to praife <c Thee worthily, thro' whom, whate'er tc we do, is done with Elegance and Beauty - y " without whom, what we do, is ever grace-
<c lefs and deformed. Venerable Power !
" By what Name fhall I addrefs Thee ? " Shall I call Thee Ornament of Mind ; cc or art Thou more truly Mind itfelf? — cc 'Tis Mind Thou art, moft perfect " Mind - y not rude, untaught, but fair and " poliihed ; in fuch Thou dwelleft, of fuch " Thou art the Form -, nor is it a Thing " more poffible to feparateThee from fuch, " than it would be to feparate Thee from " thy own Exiftence."
My good Friend was now arrived to a very exalted Pitch, and was purfuing his Panegyric with great Warmth an d Fluency ; when we entered the Suburbs, our Walk
being
if Dialogue. 43
being near finifhed. The People, as we went along, began to look at us with Sur- prize ; which I, who was lefs engaged, having leifure to obferve, thought 'twas proper to admonifh my Friend, that he fhould give over. He immediately ceafed reading ; put his Papers up ; and thank'd me for flopping him at fo feafonable 3 Time,
§. 6. What remained of our Difcourfe palTed off with lefs Rapture, and was in- deed no more, than a kind of fhort Re- capitulation.
/?. He obferved to me, that our Inquiries had furnilhed out an Anfwer to four diffe- rent Queftions. For thus, faid he, if it be alked us, What Art is ? We have to Anfwer, it is — — an habitual "Power in Man, of becoming the Caufe of fome EffeB^ according to a Syjlem of various and well-- approved Precepts. If it be alked us, On whsxSubjedl Art operates ? We can anfwer, On a contingent^ which is within the reach
t
44 Concerning ART,
of the Human Powers to influence. If it be afked us, For what Reafon, for the fake of what Art operates ? We may reply, For the fake of feme abfent Good, relative to Hu- man Life, and attainable by Man, but fupe- perior to his natural and uninjlruBed Facul- ties. Laftly, if it be afked, Where 'tis the Operations of Art end? We may fay, Either in feme Energy, or in feme Work.
He added, That if he were not afraid of the Imputation of Pedantry, he could be almoft tempted to fay, That we had been confidering Art, with refpedt to ihofefour Caufes, fo celebrated once among Profeflbrs in the Schools. By thefe, upon Inquiry, I found that he meant certain Caufes, called the * Efficient, the -f Material, the % Finals and the. j[ Formal.
But
- P. 17. f P. 21. t p - 2 8 5 29.
I P- 34, 36.
A Dialogue,
45
But here, without farther explaining, he begged for the prefent that we might conclude, being fufficiently, as he faid, fatigued with the Length of what had paffed already. The Requeft was reafon- able I could not but own, and thus ended our Converfation 3 and foon after it our Walk.
The E N D,
TREATISE the Second :
A
DISCOURSE
O N
MUSIC, PAINTING,
AND
POETRY-
(49)
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER the First.
INTRODUCTION — Defign and Dijlribution of the Whole -—Preparation for the following Chapters,
CHAPTER the Second.
On the Subjects, which Painting imitates--*
On the Subjects, which Mufic imitates
Comparifon of Mufic with Painting.
CHAPTER the Third.
On the Subjects which Poetry imitates, but imitates only thro' natural Media, or mere Sounds ----- ^.- Comparifon of Poetry in this Capacity, firjl with Painting, then with Mufic.
E CHAP*-
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER the Fourth,
On the Subjects which Poetry imitates, not by mere Sounds or natural Media, but by Words fignificant -, the SubjeBs being fuch, to which the Ge??ius of each of the other two Arts is moft perfectly adapted. — Its Corn- par ifon in thefe Subjects, frfi with Paint- ing, then with Mufic.
CHAPTER the Fifth.
On the Subjects, which Poetry imitates by Words fignificant, being at the fame time Subjects not adapted to the Genius of either of the other Arts, — 7 - The : Nature of thefe
Subjects. The Abilities of Poetry to
imitate them.—-- Cgmparifon of Pqetry in refpeB of thefe SubjeBs, firft with Paint- ing, then with Mufic.
CHAP-
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER the Sixth.
On Mufic confidered not as an Imitation \ but as deriving its Efficacy from another
Source. On its joint Operation by this
means with Poetry. An ObjeBion to
Mufic folved.- The Advantage arijing to
it, as well as to Poetry, from their being united.--^-- Conclufon.
E 2
(S3)
DISCOURSE
O N
MUSIC, PAINTING,
and POETRY. |
CHAP. 1.
Introduction. Defign and Dijiribution of
the Whole. —Preparation for the following Chapters.
ALL Arts have this in common, Ch. L that they refpeff Human . Life. *~~* m — Some contribute to its NeceJJi~ ties, as Medicine and Agriculture $ others to its Elegance, as Mufk, Painting, and Poetry*
E 3 Now,
A Discourse on MUSIC,
Now, with relpeft to thefe two diffe- rent Species^ the ?iecejfary Arts feem to have been prior in time ; if it be probable, that Men confulted how to live and to fupport them/elves, before they began to deliberate how to render Life agreeable. Nor is this indeed unconfirmed by Fad:, there being no Nation known fo barbarous and ignorant* as where the Rudiments of thefe necejfary Arts are not in fome degree cultivated. And hence poffibly they may appear to be the more excellent and worthy, as having claim to a Preference, derived from their Seniority.
The Arts however of Elegance cannot be laid to want Pretenlions, if it be true, that Nature framed us for fomething more, than mere Exi/lence. Nay, farther, if Well- being be clearly preferable to Mere-being, and this without it be but a thing contemp- tible, they may have reafon perhaps to afpire even to a Superiority. But enough of this, to come to our Purpofe.
$.2.
PAINTING and POETRY. 55
§. 2. THE©efignof this Difcourfe is to Ch. Il treat of Music, Painting, and Poetry ; ^""^ to confider in what they agree, and in what they differ ; and which, upon the;
WHOLE, IS MORE EXCELLENT THAN THE OTHER TWO;
In entering upon this Inquiry* it is firft to be obferved, that the Mind is made confcious of the natural World and its Af- fections, and of other Minds and their Affections, by the feveral Organs of the Senfes (a). By the fame Organs, thefe Arts exhibit to the Mind Imitations, and imitate either Parts or Affections of this natural E 4 Wbrldi
(a) To explain fome future Obfervations, it will be proper here to remark, that the Mind from thefe Materials thus brought together, and from its own Ope-> rations on them, and in confequence of them, becomes
fraught with Ideas and that many Minds fo
fraught, by a fort ^Compact affigning to each Idea fome Sound to be its Mai^k or Symbol, were the firjl Inventors and Founders ^Language.
56 A Discourse on MUSIC,
3i. I. World) or elfe the Paffions, Energies, and
t^ other Affe&ions of Minds, 1 here is this
Difference however between thefe Arts and
Nature-, that Nature paffes to the Percipient
thro* all the Senfes : whereas thefe Arts ufe
only two of them, that of Seeing and that
• of Hearing. And hence it is that the fen-*
fible ObjeBs or Media, thro' which (h) they
imitate, can hzfuch only, as thefe two Senfes
are framed capable of perceiving • and thefe
Media are Motion, Sound, Colour, and
Figure.
Paint-
(b) To prevent Confufion it muil be obferved, that in all thefe Arts there is a Difference between the fenfible Media, thro" which they imitate, and the Subjects imitated. The fenfible Media, thro' which they imitate, mufl: be always relative to that Senfe, , by which the particular Art applies to the Mind -, but the Subject imitated may be foreign to thatSenfe, and beyond the Power of its Perception. Painting, for in- ftance, (as is fhewn in this Chapter) has no fenfible Media, thro' which it operates, except Colour and Figure : But as to Subjects, it may have Motions, Sounds, moral Affections and Aclions ; none of which are either Colours or Figures, but which however are all capable of being imitated thro 9 them. See Chapter the fecond, Notes (b), (c), (d}>
PAINTING WPOETRY, S7
Painting, having the Eye for its Or- Ch. I. gan, cannot be conceived to imitate, but thro' the Media of vijible Objefts. And farther, its Mode of imitating being always * motionlefs, there muft be fubftra&ed from thefe the Medium of Motion. It remains then, that Colour and Figure are the only Media, thro' which Painting imitates.
Music, paffing to the Mind thro' the Organ of the Ear, can imitate only by Sounds and Motions.
Poetry, having the Ear alfo for its Organ, as far as Words are confidered to be no more than mere Sounds, can go no fur- ther in Imitating, than may be performed by Sound and Motion. But then, as thefe its Sounds Jiand by * Compact for the various Ideas, with which the Mind is fraught, it is enabled by this means to imitate, as far as
Lan-
- See Note (a) Page 55.
58 A Discourse on MUSIQ
phi I. Language can exprefs ; and that 'tis evident "~ v ~"*"' will, in a manner, include all things.
Now from hence may be feen, how thefe Arts agree > and how they differ.
They agree j by being ^//MiMETiq or Imitative.
They differ, as they imitate by different Media; Painting, by Figure and Colour ; Music, by Sound and Motion; Painting and Music, by Media which are Natural; Poetry, for the greater Part, by a Medium* which is Artificial (c)+
As
(c) A Figure painted, or a Compofition of Mu- fical Sounds have always a natural Relation to that, cf which they are intended to be the Refemblance. But a Defcription in Words has rarely any fuch natural Relation to the fever al Ideas, of which thofe Wdrds are the Symbols. None therefore understand the Defcrip- tion, but thofe who fpeak the Language. On the con- trary, Mufical and Piclure-Imitations are intelligible to all Men.
Why
PAINTING and POETRY. 59
§.3. As to that Art, which upon the Ch. I, whole is mojl excellent of the three ; it muft be v "-"' v ~' obferved, that among thefe various Media of imitating, fome will naturally be more ac- curate, fome lefs ; fome will befi imitate one Subjedt; fome, another. Again, among the Number of Subjects there will be natu- rally alfo a Difference, as to Merit and De- merit. There will be fome fublime, and fome low ; fome copious, and fome Jhort ; fome pathetic, and others void of Pa/Jton-, fome formed to inJlruSi, and others not ca- pable of it.
Now, from thefe two Circumstances 5 that is to fay, from the Accuracy of the Imitation, and the Merit of the SubjeSi imitated, the Queftion concerning which Art is mojl excellent, muft be tried and de- termined.
This
Why it is faid that Poetry is not unwerfally, but only for the greater part artificial, fee below, Chapter the Third, where what Natural Force it has, is ex- amined and eftimated.
60 ^Discourse on MUSIC,
X
Ch. I. This however cannot be done, without " nr **^ a Detail of P articular s> that fo there may
be formed, on every part, juft and accurate
Comparifons.
To begin therefore with Painting.
CHAP.
PAINTING tfWPOETRY. 61
CHAP. II.
On the Subjects, which Painting imitates. — - On the Subjects, which Mujic imitates*—- Comparifon of Mujic with Painting.
THE fittest Subjects FoRCh.II, Painting, are all fuch Things^*^* and Incidents, as are * peculiarly cha- ratferifed by Figure and Colour.
Of this kind are the whole Mafs (a) of Things inanimate and vegetable-, fuch as Flowers, Fruits, Buildings, Landfldps — — The various Tribes of Animal 'Figures ; fuch
as Birds, Beafts, Herds, Flocks The
Motions and Sounds peculiar to each Animal
Species,
- P. 57*
(a) The Reafon is, that ihefe things are almoft wholly known to us by their Colour and Figure. Be^ fides, they are as motlonlefs y for the mofl part, in
Natyre y as in the Imitation.
62 A Discourse on MUSIC,
Eh. II. Species, when accompanied with Configura- T^^* - ^ tionSy which are obvious and remarkable (b)-* The Human Body in all its Appearances (as Male, Female; Young, Old; Handfome, Ugly ;) and in all its Attitude >s, (as Lying, Sitting, Standing, £$c. ) — — The Natural Sounds peculiar to the Human Species, (fuch as Crying, Laughing, Hollowing, &c.) (c)— All Energies, Pajjions, and AffeBjons of the
Souk
(b) Instances of this kind are the Flying of Birds, the Galloping of Horfes, the Roaring of Lions, the Crowing of Cocks. And the Reafon is, that though to paint Motion or Sound be impoffible, yet the Motions and Sounds here mentioned having an im- mediate and natural Connection with a certain vifible Configuration of the Parts , the Mind, from a Profpect of this Configuration, conceives infenfibly that which is concomitant \ and hence 'tis that, by a fort of Fallacy ', the Sounds and Motions appear to be painted alfo. On the contrary, not fo in fuch Mo- tions, as the Swimming of many kinds of Fifh ; or in fuch Sounds, as the Purring of a Cat; ; becaufe here is no (uchfpecial Configuration to be perceived.
(c) The Reafon is of the fame kind, as that given in the Note immediately preceding ; and by the fame Rule, the Obfervation mult be confined to
■ natural Sounds only. In Language, few of the Speakers know the Configurations ^ which attend it.
PAINTING and POETRY. 63
Soul, being in any degree more intenfe or Ch. II, violent than ordinary (d) All Anions
a?td Events, whofe Integrity or JVholenefs depends upon a jliort and ftlf -evident Sue- ceffion of Incidents [e) — •» Or if the Suc- ceffion be extended, then fuch ABions at leaft, whofe Incidents are all along, during
that Succejfion, fimilar (f) All Actions,
which being qualified as above, open them-
felves
(d) The Reafon is ft ill of the fame kind, viz. from their Vifible Effects on the Body. They natu- rally produce either to the Countenance a particular Rednefs or Palenefs ; or a particular Modification of its Mufcles-, or elfe to the Limbs, a particular Attitude. Now all thefe Effects zrefolely referable to Colour and Figure, the two grand fenlible Media, peculiar to Painting. See Raphael's Cartoons of St. Paul at Athens, and of his ftriking the Sorcerer Elymas blind : See alfo the Crucifixion of Poly crates, and the Suf- ferings of the Conful Regulus, both by S abator Rofa,
(e) For ofnecefftty every Picture is a Punftum Tempsris ^Instant.
(f) Such, for inftance, as a Storm at Sea ; whofe Incidents ofVifion may be nearly all included in foam- ing Waves, a dark Sky, Ships out of their erect Pofture, and Men hanging upon the Ropes. — — -
Or
64 <<& Discourse on MUSIC,
Ch. II. felves into a large Variety of CircumftanceS,
- m>/mmm ^ concurring all in the fame Point of 'Time (g)
All Aftiom which are known, and
known univerfally, rather than Aftions newly invented, or known but to few (V).
And
Or as a Battle ; which from Beginning to End pre- fents nothing elfe, than Blood, Fire, Smoak, and Diforder. Nowfuch Events may be well imitated all at once -, for how long foever they laft, they are but Repetitions of the fame.
(g) For Painting is notboundedin Exten- sion, as it is in Duration. Befides, it feems true in every Species of Compofition, that, as far as Perplexity and Confufion may be avoided, and the Wholenefs of the Piece may be preferved clear and in- telligible ; the more ample the Magnitude j, and the greater the Variety ', the greater alfo, in proportion, the Beauty and Perfeclion. Noble Inftances of this are the Pictures above-mentioned in Note (d). See Ariflot. Poet. cap. 7. c o it kocW d,v\w (pva-iv r* irpayfji.uT(&> op(^, del [Av &c. See alfo Characleri- ficks, V. I. p. 143. zn&Bojfu, B. 1. cap. 16, UAchilk d* Homer e eflfi grand, &c.
(h) The Reafon is, that a Picture being (as has been faid) but a Point or Infant, in a Story well known the Spectator's Memory will fupply the pre- vious and the fubfequent. But this cannot be done,
where
Fainting and poetry. 6?
!
And thus much as to the Subje&s of Chill.' Painting. ^ v_1 "~
§. 2. In Music, the fittest Sub- jects of Imitation are all fuch Things
where fuch Knowledge is wanting. And therefore it may be juftly queftioned, whether the moll cele- brated Subjects, borrowed by Painting from Hi{lory 9 would have been any of them intelligible thro 3 the Medium of Painting only, fuppofing Hiftory to have been filent, and to have given no additional Information.
I t may be here added, that Horace, conformably to this Reafoning, recommends even to Poetic Imi- tation a known Story, before an unknown.
Tuque
Reclius Hiacum carmen deducts in aclus, Quam ft proferres ignota, indiclaq; primus.
Art. Poet. v. 12S.
And indeed as the being underjlood to others, either Hearers or Spectators, feems to be a common Requi- fite to all Mimetic Arts whatever ; (for to thofe, who underftand them not, they are in fact ho Mimetic Arts) it follows, that Perfpicuity muft be Effential to them all ; and that no prudent Artift would neglect, if it were pofllble, any juft Advantage to obtain this End. Now there can be no Advantage greater, than the Notoriety of the Subjecl imitafed,
F and
66 A DiscotiRSE on MUSXC y
jCh. II. and Incidents, as are mofl eminently * cha* raBerifed by Motion arid Sound.
Motion may be either flow or fwifty
even or uneven, broken or continuous.-
Sound may be either foft or loud, high or Jow. Wherever therefore any of thefe Spe- cies of Motion or Sound may be found in an eminent (not a moderate or mean) degree? there will be room for Musical Imita- tion.
Thus, in the Natural or Inanimate Worlds Music may imitate the Glidings, Murmurings, Tofiings, Roarings, and other Accidents of Water, as perceived in Foun- tains, Catara&s, Rivers, Seas, &c. — —The fame of Thunder — -the fame of Winds, as well *;he ftormy as the gentle. — — In the Animal World, it may imitate the Voice of . fome Animals, but chiefly that of finging
Birds.- It may Mo faintly copy fome of
their Motions. — In the Human Kind, it can
alfa
PAINTING and POETRY. 67
alfo imitate fome Motions (i) and Sounds (k) ; Ch. I J and of Sounds thofe moji perfe£lly± which are expreffive of Grief 'and Anguijh (I).
And thus much as to the Subjects, which Mufic imitates;
§.3. It remains then, that we compare ihefe two Arts together. And here in- deed, as to Mafical Imitation in general, it muft be confeffed that ±— as it can, from its Genius, imitate only Sounds and Motions — » as there are not many Motions either in the F 2 Animal
(i) As the Walk of the Giant Polypheme, in the Paftoral of Acis and Galatea. — See what ample Strides be takes, &c.
(k) As the Shuts of a Multitude, in the Corona- tion Anthem of, Godfave the King, &c.
(I) The Reafch is, that this Species of Mufical Imitation moji nearly approaches Nature. For Grief, in moft Animals, declares itfelf by Sounds, which are not unlike to long Notes in the Chromatic Syftem. Of this kind is the Chorus of Baal's Priefts in the Oratorio of Deborah, Doleful Tidings, how ye, wound, &c,
68 A Discourse on MUSIC,
^h. II. Animal or in the Inanimate World, which ' J,r ~ vr ~*are exclujively peculiar even to any Species, and fcarcely any to an Individual — »- *a3 there are no Natural Sounds, which cha- raflerife at leafi tower than a Species (for the Natural Sounds of Individuals are ill
every Species the fame) farther, as
Mulic does but imperfeBly imitate even thefe Sounds and Motions (m) - — -On the contrary, as Figures, Poftures of Figures, and Colours chafa&erife not only every fen* Jible Species , but even every Individical% and for the moft part alfo the various * Energies
2xATa]fions of every Individual and
farther, as Painting is able, with the highefi Accuracy and Exatfnefs, to imitate all thefe Colours and Figures 5 and while Mufical
Imita-
- See Note (d) of this Chapter.
(m) The Reafon is from the DiJJimilitude be- tween the Sounds and Motions of Nature^ and thofe of Mufic. Mufical Sounds are all produced from Even Vibration, moll Natural from Uneven ; Mufical Motions are chiefty "Definite in their Meafure, moft Natural are Indefinite,
PAINTING and POETRY. 65
Imitation pretends at mojl to no more, than Ch. If the railing of Ideas Jimilar^ itfelf afpires to u raife Ideas the wry fame — - in a word, as Painting, in refpeft of its Subjetfs, is equal to the noblefi Part of Imitation, the imi- tating regular Aftions ponjijling of a Whole and Parts -> and of fuch Imitation, Muflc is
utterly incapable^ from all this it
muft be confeffed, that Musical Imita- tion is greatly below that of Painting, and that at bejl it is but an imperfeft thing.
As to the Efficacy therefore of Music, it muft be derived from another Source,, which muft be left for the prefent, to be eonfidered of hereafter *,
There remains to be mentioned Imi- tation by Poetry.
- Ch. VI,
F 3 CHAP.
r A Discourse on MUSIC.
CHAP. III.
On the Subjects which Poetry imitates, but imitates only thro" natural Media, or mere Sounds— -—Comparifon of Poetry in this Capacity, frjl with Painting, then with Mufc*
h.III.TJ30ETIC Imitation includes every
s^v-— ' JL thing in it, which is performed either by
Picture-Imitation or Musical; for
its Materials are Words, and Words are
f Symbols by Compact of all Ideas.
Farther as Words, befide their being Symbols by Compaft, are alfo Sounds vari- oufly dijlinguified by their Aptnefs to be rapidly or Jlowly pronounced, and by the refpeftive Prevalence of Mutes, Liquids, or Vowels in their Compofition ; it will follow that, befide their Compact-Relation, they
will
I See Note (a) Cbap.h
PAINTING and POETRY. 71!
will have likewife a Natural Relation to all Ch. III! iiich Things, between which and them- felves there is any Natural Refemblance. Thus, for inftance, there is a Natural Re- femblance between all forts of harjh and grating Sounds. There is therefore (ex- clufive of its Signification) a Natural Rela- tion between the Sound of a vile Hautboy* and of that Verfe in * Virgil,
Stridenti miferum Jlipuld difperdere Carfften.
or of that other in *\> Milton,
- .
Grate on their Scrannel Pipes of wretched Straw,
So alfo between the fmooth fwift Gliding of a River, and of that Verfe in || Horace,
r ^.. at m e
Labitur, & labetur in omne volubilis cevum<
And thus in part even Poetic Imitation
has its Foundation in Nature, But then
F 4 this
- Eel. 3. ver. 27. f In his
|1 Epift.2. 1, i. v. 42, 43,
I 72 A Discourse on MUSIC,
^h. III. this Imitation goes not far; and taken fp^"*^ without the Meaning derived to the Sounds from Cqmpaff, is but little intelligible, how- ever perfect and elaborate.
§.2. If therefore Poetry be compared with Painting, in refpe<3 of this its werely Natural and Inartificial Refem-r blance, it may be juftly faid that — —In as inuch as of this fort of Refemblance, Poetry (like Mufic) has no qther Sources,
than tbofe two of Sound and Motion-
• in as much as it often wants thefe Sources them/elves (for Numbers of Words neither have, nor can have any Refemblance to thofe Ideas, of which they are the Sym- bols) in as much as Natural Sounds
and Motions, which Poetry thus imitates, are themfelves but * loofe and indefinite Ac- cidents of thofe Subjects, to which they belong, and confequently do but loofely and
indefinitely charadterife them laftly, in
as much as Poetic Sounds and Motions do
but
»-.-. *■•: — - — 3 — : — *— J — - . .- . \. — : z — r - T %
t ?. 67, 68,
PAINTING and POETRY. 73
faut faintly refemble thofe of Nature, which Ch. Ill, are themfehes confefled to be fo imperfeB^
and vague From all this it will
follow (as it has already followed of Mufic)
that Poetic Imitation founded
in mere Natural Resemblance is much inferior to that of paint* jng, and at bejl but very imperfect.
§.3. As to the Preference, which fuck Poet 1 c Imitation may claim before Musical, or Musical Imitation be- fore that 5 the Merits on each Side may appear perhaps equal. They both fetcli their Imitations from -f Sound and Motion. Now Music feems to imitate Nature bet- ter as to Motion, and Poetry as to Sound. The Reafon is, that in Motions (a) Mujk
has
t ^ 57.
(a) Music has no lefs than five different Lengthy of Notes in ordinary ufe, reckoning from the Semi- fcrief to the Semi-quaver 5 all which, may be infi- nitely
74 -rf- Discourse on MUSIC,
Ch. III. has a greater Variety ; and in Sounds, thofc of Poetry approach nearer to Nature (b),
If therefore in Sound the one have the Preference, in Motion the other, and the Merit of Sound and Motion be fuppofed nearly equal ; it will follow, that the Merit of the two Imitations will be nearly equal also.
nitely compounded, even in any one Time, or Mea-
fure Poetry, on the other hand, has but two
Lengths or Quantities, a long Syllable and a Jhort, (which is its Half) and all the Variety ofVerfe arifes from fuch Feet and Metres, as thefe two Species of Syllables, by being compounded, can be made produce.
(b) Musical Sounds are produced by even Vibrations, which fcarcely any Natural Sounds are — on the contrary, Words are the Product of uneven
Vibration, and fo are moft Natural Sounds
Add to this, that Words are far more numerous, than Mufical Sounds. So that Poetry, as to Imitation by Sound, feems to exceed Mufic, not only in nearnefi sf Refemblance, but even in Variety alfo.
CHAP,
PAINTING and POETRY, 75
CHAP. IV.
On the Subjects which Poetry imitates, not by mere Sounds or natural Media, but by Words fignificant 5 the Subjects at the fame time being fuch, to which the Genius of each of the other two Arts is moft perfectly adapted. — Its Comparifon in thefe Subje3s 9 frji with Paintings then with Mafic*
THE Mimetic Art of Poetry hasCh.IV, been hitherto confidered, as fetch- ing its Imitation from mere Natural Re- femblance. In this it has been {hewn much inferior to Painting, and nearly equal to Music.
It remains to be confidered, what its Merits are, when it imitates not by mere Natural Sound, but by Sound fgnificant $ by Words, the compaft Symbols of all kinds pf Ideas, From hence depeifds its genuine
Force,
y6 A Discourse on MUSIC,
I Ch. IV. Force. And here, as it is able to find Sounds expreffive of every Idea, fo is there no Subjedi either of Pidhirer-Imitation, or Mufical, to which it does not afpire - y all Things and Incidents whatever being, in a manner, to be defcribed by Words.
Whether therefore Poetry, in this its proper Sphere, be equal to the Imitation of the other two Arts^ is the Queftion at pre- fent, which comes in order to be difcurTed.
Now as SuhjeBs are infinite, and thq other two Arts are not equally adapted to imitate all-, it is propofed, firft to compare Poetry with them in fitch Subjects, to which they are mofi perfectly adapted.
§.2. To begin therefore with Paint- ing. A Subject, in which the Power of this Art may be mofi fully exerted, (whether it be taken from the Inanimate, or the Animal, or the Moral World) mufl be a Subject, which is principally and eminently charaBerifed by certain Colourj,
Figures^
PAINTING and POETRY, 77
Figures, and Poftures of Figures — *- whofe Ch, IV. Comprehenfion depends not on a SucceJJion of' Events -, or at leaji^ if on a SucceJJion, on a
Jhort and felf evident one which admits a
large Variety of fuch Circumfiances, as all concur in the fame individual Point ofTime y and relate all to one principal A3 ion.
As to fuch a Subject therefore In as
much as Poetry is forced to pafs thro* the Medium of Compact, while Painting applies immediately thro' the Medium of Nature ; the one being underftood to all, the other to the Speakers of a certain Lan- guage * only in as much as Natural
Operations muft needs be more affecting, than Artificial- — — in as much as Painting helps our own rude Ideas by its own, which are confummate and wrought up to the Per- fection of Art ; while Poetry can raife no ether (a) than what every Mind is furnifhed
with
- Note (c) p. 58.
(a) When we read in Milton of Eve, that Grace vjas in all her Steps, Heav'n in her Eye, In ev'ry Gefture Dignity and Love- 3
we
78 A Discourse on MUSIC,
Ch.IV. with before — in as much as Painting mews all the minute and various concurrent Cir- cumjlances of the Event in the fame indivi- dual Point of Time, as they appear in Nature $ while Poetry is Forced to want this Circumftance of Intelligibility, by being ever obliged to enter into fome de- gree of Detail—— in as much as this Detail creates often the Dilemma of either be- coming tedious^ to be clear ; or if not tedious , then obfcure — — laftly, in as much &$ all Imitations more fimilar> more imme- diate^
toe have an Image not of tliat Eve, which Milton tonceived, but of fetch an Eve onIy i as every one, by his own proper Genius, is able to reprefent, front reflecting on thofe Ideas, which he has annexed to thefe feveral Bounds. The greater Part, in the mean time, have never perhaps beftowed one accurate Thought upon what Grace, Heaven, Love, and Dignity inean; or ever enriched the Mind with Ideas of Beauty, or aiked whence they are to be acquired, and by what Proportions they are confeituted. On the contrary, when we view Eve as painted by art able Painter, we labour under no fuch Difficulty ; became we have exhibited before us the better Con- ceptions of an Artist, the genuine Ideas of perhaps a Titian or a Raphael,
PAINTING and POETRY. 79
diate, and more intelligible, are preferable Ch. IV; to thofe which are lefs fo$ and for the •Reafons above* the Imitations of Poetry are lefs Jimilar, lefs immediate, and lefs in- telligible than thofe of Painting- — From
ALL THIS it Will folloWj that IN ALL
Subjects, where Painting can fully exert itself, the imita- TIONS of Painting are superior to those of Poetry, and conse- quently in all such Subjects that Painting has the Prefer rence.
§.3. And now to compare Poetry with Music, allowing to Mujic the fame' Advantage of a well-adapted Subject, which has already been allowed to Painting in the Comparifon juft preceding.
What fuch a Subject is, has already been * defcribed. And as to Preference, it
muft
- See Chap. II. §. 2,
80 A Discourse in MUSI'Q
Ch.IV. muft-be confeffed, that In as much as
Musical Imitations, tho' Natural, afpire not to raife the fa?ne Ideas, but only Ideas \\fmilar and analogous; while Poetic Imitation, tho' Artificial, raifes Ideas
the very fame in as much as the Definite
and Certain is ever preferable to the Indefi- nite and Uncertain ; and that more efpeci- ally in Imitations, where the principal (b) Delight is in recognizing the Thing
imitated
H P. 68, 69.
(b) That there is an eminent Delight in this very Recognition it f elf, abftracl: from any thing pleafing in the Subject recognized, is evident from hence that, in all the Mimetic Arts, we can fee
highly charmed with Imitations, at whofe Originals in Nature we are /hocked and terrified. Such, for in- ftance, as Dead Bodies, Wild Beafts, and the like.
The Caufe, afligned for this, feems to be of the following kind. We have a Joy, not only in the Sanity and Perfection, but alfo in the juft and na- tural Energies of our feveral Limbs and Faculties. And hence, among others, the Joy in Reasoning ; as being the Energy of that principal Faculty , our In- tellect or Understanding. This Joy ex- tends, not only to the Wife, but to the Multitude. For all Men have an Averfion to Ignorance and Error ;
and
PAINTING and POETRY. &x
imitated — it will follow from hence that — Ch.IV,,; fevEN in Subjects the best adapted to Musical Imitation, the Imita- tion of Poetry will be still more excellent.
and in fome degree* however moderate, are glad to learn and to inform themfelves.
He n c e therefore the Delight \ arifing from thefe Imitations ; as we are enabled, in each of them, to exercife the Reasoning Faculty ; arid, by com- paring the Copy with the Architype in our Minds, to infer that this is such a things and that, another; a Fact remarkable among Children, even in their firft and earlieft Days.
To, re yap [Ai[jt.i7<r2rci} 9 <rv[A(pVTQV roTg oiv^otairoi^ ai
- atJcov lj-), 7^ rung diatpspuo'i rwy aAAwy ^wwv, v ori
(Mpwsus ?&<; irgcarocs! xj to %uig£iv toT; fAiptipxin it&vtocs. 2v}ps?ov $\ rirk to avf/t.ftoiwQv eV* rtov sWwv* A yag aura Ai/th^w? ogtipev, ritm tx\ slxovus rccg potXiroi mgi€up£viz$, ^aigo^si) SeugvvTEq' oTov 3^/w» Tf pogtpois tcou ay^iuTocrcov^ 7% vexguv. *A*t<ov $1 >£ Tar*, on ^cavS'austv » povov ro7g (piXoo*o(pof? %$iroi 9 & AAo, ^ roTg aAAojj opoioog ' aAA* Isr* j3^p^u xojvwv?- <ni> ai>T*. A<» yap tsto p^a/^ycr* ra? elaovocg c^wre? 9 in cvpfixivsi ^Bca^vTocg fjt.avB'ccvsiv y£ cvX\oyi£e&ai f %i h*rw «Tov, 07* ar®- sWd©^. Arilt. Poet. c. 4*
G CHAP,
Zz A Discourse on MUSIC,
CHAP. V.
On the Subjetfs which Poetry imitates by Words fignificant) being at the fame time Subjefts not adapted to the Genius of
either of the other Arts The Nature of
thofe Subjetfs The Abilities of Poetry
to imitate them Comparifon of Poetry
in thefe Subje&s, firjl with Painting, then with Mujic.
Ch.V. T^HE Mimetic Art of Poetry A. has now been confidered in two Views — Firft, as imitating by mere natural Media ; and in this it has been placed on a level with Music, but much inferior to Painting It has been fince con- sidered as imitating thro' Sounds fignificant by Compatf, and that in fuch Subjects re- fpedtively, where Painting and Music have the fullefi Power to exert themfelves.
Here
PAINTING and POETRY. 8
Here to Painting it has been held inferior, Ch. V but to Mufic it has been preferred.
It remains to be conlidered ■ — -—what ether Subjects Poetry has left* to which the Genius of the other two Arts is notfo per- fectly adapted How far Poetry is able to
imitate them —and whether from the
Perfection of its Imitation, and the Nature of the Subjecls themfelves, it ought to be called no more than equal to its Sifter Arts ; or whether, on the whole, it fhould not rather be called fuperior.
§. 2. To begin, in the firii place, by comparing it with- Painting.
The SubjeBs of Poetry, to which the
Genius of Painting is not adapted, are ~ — -
all Actions, whofe (a) Whole is of fo
G 2 lengthened
(a) For a juft and accurate Defcription of 'Whole- fiefs and Unity, fee Ar'tft. Poet. Ch. 7&8. mdBoJu 9 his beft Interpreter, in his Treatife on the Epic Poem, B.II. ch. 9, io-, tu
84 ^Discourse on MUSIC, /
2h, V. lengthened a Duration, that no "Point of ~ vmm Time, in any part of that Whole, can be given fit for Painting ; neither in its Be' ginning, which will teach what is Subfe~ quent; nor in its End, which will teach what is Previous ; nor in its Middle, which will declare both the Previous and the Sub~ fequent. — — Alfo all Subjects fo framed, as to lay open the internal Conjlitution of Man, and give us an Infight into (b) CharaSlers, Manners, PaJJions, and Se?itiments.
The
(b) For a Defcription of Character, fee be- low, Note (c) of this Chapter.
As for Manners, it may be faid in general, that a certain Syjiem of them makes a Char after ; and that as thefe Syftems, by being differently compounded, make each a different Character, fo is it that one- Man truly differs from another.
Pa s s 1 o n s are obvious ; Pity, Fear, Anger ^ &c.
Sentiments are difcoverable in all thofe Things, which are the proper Bufinefi and End of Speech or Discourse. The chief Branches of this End are to Affert and Prove ; to Solve and Re- fute 1 to exprefs or excite Paffiom > to amplify In-
cidents >
PAINTING and POETRY. $ 5
The Merit of thefe Subje&s is obvious. Ch. V.^ They muft neceffarily of all be the moft affeBing*, the moft improving ; and fuch of which the Mind has the Jirongeji Corn- prehenjion.
For as to the affediing Part if it be
true, that all Events more or lefs affedi us, as the Subje5is y which they refpeft, are , more or lefs nearly related to us ; then fiirely thofe Events muft needs be moft af- feSling, to whofe Subjects we are of all the moft intimately related. Now fuch is the Relation, which we bear to Mankind '; and Men and Human Adtions are the Subje&s, here propofed for Imitation,
G 3 As
cidents, and to diminijb them. 5 Tis in thefe things therefore, that we muft look for Sentiment.
See Arift. Poet. c. 19. ? r , $\ x «1a rft AiaWv
- kvix 9 htroc V7tq ra Xoyn ie7 irotQawtEvourKvoti, Mef H
jS t»7cov, to, 7s uiro$iixvvvxi 9 x) to n Aufiv, x) to W0f}
86 ^Discourse on MUSIC,
Jh. V. As to Improvement — -there can be none furely (to Man at leaft) fo great, as that which is derived from a juft and decent Reprefentation of Human Manner^ and Sentiments. For what can more contribute to give us that Mqfler^Kjiowledge (c), with-*
out
(c) T N n I SATTON. But farther, befides obtaining this moral Science from the Con- templation of Human Life ; an End common both to Epic, Tragic, and Comic Poetry ; there is a pecu-. liar End to Tragedy, that of eradicating the PafTions of Pity and Fear. 9j Env &v t^y^tot, pifAvuris TrgdZjreus
twv tqistwv 7r&6-/?/AaJwv xaOa^o-iv, Arirt. Poet. c. 6. Tragedy is the Imitation of an Aclion important and per feci, thro* Pity and Fear working the Purga- tion OF SUCH-LIKE PASSIONS.
There are none, 'tis evident, fo devoid of thefe
two Pafions, as thofe perpetually converfant, where the Occasions of them are mofc frequent ; fuch, for infknce, as the Military Men, the Profeffors of Medicine, Chirurgery, and the like. Their Minds, by this Intercourfe, become as it were callous ; gain- ing an Apathy by Experience, which no Theory can ever teach them*
Now
PAINTING and POETRY. 87
out which, all other Knowledge will prove Ch. V. of little or no Utility ?
G 4 As
Now that, which is wrought in thefe Men by the real Difaflers of 'Life ', may be fuppofed wrought in others by the Ficlions of Tragedy ; yet with this happy Circumftance in favour of Tragedy, that, without the Difafters being real, it can obtain the fame End.
It muft however, for all this, be confefTed, that an Effect of this kind cannot reafonably be expected, except among Nations, like the Athenians of old, who lived in a perpetual Attendance upon thefe Theatrical Reprefentations. For 'tis not a fingle or cccafonal Application to thefe Paffions, but a con- Jlant and uninterrupted, which alone can leffen or re- move them.
It would be improper to conclude this Note, without obferving, that the Philofopher in this place by Pity means not Philanthropy, Na- tural Affeclion, a Readinefs to relieve others in their Calamities and Diflrefs ; but, by Pity, he means that Senseless, Effeminate Consternation, which feizes weak Minds, on the fudden Profpecl of any thing difafirous ; which, in its more violent Effects, is feen in Shriekings, Swoonings, &c. a Paffion, fo far from laudable, or from operating to the Good of others, that it is certain to deprive the Party, who labours under its Influence, of all Capacity to cloth ■Jeafl good Office.
A Discourse on MUSIC,
A s to our Comprehenjion?--^- there is no^ thing certainly, of which we have (ojlrong Ideas, as of that which happens in the Moral, or Human World. For as to the Internal Part, or Active Principle of the Vegetable, we know it tut obfcnrely -, becaufe there we can difeover neither PaJJion, nor Senfation. In the Animal World indeed this Principle is more feen, from the Paf- Jions and Senfations which there declare themfelves. Yet all ftill refts upon the mere Evidence of Senfe -, upon the Force only of external and unajjifled "Experience. But in the Moral or Human World, as we have a Medium of Knowledge far more accurate than this 5 fo from hence it is 3 that we can comprehend accordingly.
With regard therefore to the various Events, which happen here, and the vari- ous Caufes, by which they are produced---- ia other Words, of all Characters, Manners, Human Paifions, and Sentiments^ befides fhe Evidence of Senfe, we have the higheft
Evidence
PAINTING and POETRY. 89
Evidence additional in having an exprefsCh. V.,;
Confcioufnefs of fomething Jimilar within j\*"V" > *1 of fomething homogeneous in the Receffes of our own Minds ; in that, which conftitutes to each of us his true and real Self, *
These therefore being the Subje&s, not adapted to the Genius of Paintings it comes next to be coniidered, how far Poetry can imitate them.
And here, that it has Abilities clearly equoly cannot be doubted; as it has that for the Medium of its Imitation, through which Nature declares herfelf in the fame Subje&s. For the Sentiments in real Life are only known by Men's * Difcourfe. And the Chara5lers } Manner s y and Pajfiom of Men being the Prompters to what they fay -, it muft needs follow, that their Dif- fourfe will be a conjlant Specimen of thofe QharaBers, Manners and PaJJions.
Format
f E. 84, Note {b) y
tgo A Discourse on MUSIC,
ICh. V. * Format enim Natura prius ?ios intus ad
cmnern Fortunarum habitum ; juvat, aut impellit ad
tram : Poji effert Animi Motus, Interprete
Lingua.
Not only therefore Language is an ade- quate Medium of Imitation, but in Senti- ments it is the only Medium; and in Man- ners and FaJJions there is no other, which can exhibit them to us after that clear y precife and definite Way, as they in Nature •{land alotted to the various forts of Men, and are found to conftitute the fever 'al Cha- racters of each (d) %
§•3-
- Hor. de Arte Poet. v. ic8.
(d) It is true indeed that (beiides what is done by Poetry) there is fome Idea of Character, which even Painting can communicate. Thus there is no doubt, but that fuch a Countenance may be found by Painters for JEneas, as would convey upon view a,
mid 9
PAINTING WPOETRY. <
§. 3. To compare therefore Poetry , in Ch. thefe SubjeBs, with Painting- — In as much as no Subjects of Painting are * wholly fn-
perior
- ^ Sh 58. 75> 76.
jtm#, humane, and yet a &ywy Difpofition. But then this Idea would be vague and general. It would be concluded, only in the grofs, that the Hero was Giod. As to that Syftem of Qualities peculiar to /Eneas only, and which alone properly conjlitutes bis true and real Character, this would ftill remain a Secret, and be no way difcoverable. For how de- duce it from the mere Lineaments of a Countenance ? Or, if it were deducible, how few Spectators would there be found fo fagacious ? 'Tis here therefore, that Recourfe muft be had, not to Painting, but ta Poetry. So accurate a Conception of Character can be gathered only from a Succejfion of various, and yet confijlent Aclions ; a Succeffion, enabling us to tonjee- ture, what the Perfon of the Drama will do in the future, from what already he has done in the pajl* Now to fuch an Imitation, Poetry only is equals becaufe it is not bounded, like Painting, to/hort, and, as it were, injiant Events, but may imitate Subjects of any Duration whatever. See Arijl. Poet* cap. 6-
ETl 0*1 WO? f-W TO TOIHT0V, ^XoT TY\V TTpOKlpEtTlV 07To7oC Ti? l<TtV, iV ol$ «X £S~* J?)A0V, £i 7Tp00ll(>£~T<Zl V
(pivysi o xiyoiv. See alfo the ingenious and learned Bojfu, Book 4. ch. 4.
i2 A Discourse on MUSIC,
h. V. perior to Poetry ; while the Subjects, here p r " defcribed, far exceed the Power of Paint- ing in as much as they are of all Sub- jects the moft *f offering, and improving, and fuch of which we have the Jlrongejl
Comprehenjion further, in as much as
Poetry can moft % accurately imitate them — in as much as, befides all Imitation, there is a Charm in Poetry, arifing from its very Numbers (e); whereas Painting has Pre- tence
f P. %$, &c.
% P. 89, bV.
(e) That there is a Charm in Poetry, arifing from its Numbers only, may be made evident from the five or fix firft Lines of the Paradife Loft; where, without any Pomp of Phrafe, Sublimity of Senti- ment, or the leaji Degree of Imitation, every Reader muft find himfelf to be fenfibly delighted ; and that, only from the graceful and mnple Cadence of the Numbers, and that artful Variation of the Cafura or Paufe, fo efTential to the Harmony of every good Poem.
A n JZngliJh Heroic Verfe confifts of ten Semipeds, or Half-feet. Now in the Lines above-mentioned
the
PAINTING and POETRY. 93
tcnce to no Charm, except that of Imita- Ch. V.
tion only laftly, (which will foon be
- fhewn) in as much as Poetry is _ able to
cjjbciate Mufic, as a moft powerful Ally ; of which Affiftance, Painting is utterly in- capable From all this it may be
fairly concluded, that Poetry is not
only Equal, but that it is in fadi far Su- perior to its Sister Art of Paint-
§.4. But if it exceed Painting in Sub* jeffs, to which Painting is not adapted ; no doubt will it exceed Music in SubjeBs to
Mufic
- Chap. VI.
the Pakfes are varied upon different Semipeds in the Order, which follows ; as may be feen by any, whq will be at the Pains to examine
Paradise Lqst> B. I.
f Semiped 7
has its Paufe J — 6
fall upon j — — — 5
v- — - — 4
94 -^ Discourse on MUSIC,
Ch. V. Muiic not adapted. For here it has been
- preferred^ even in thofe Subje&s, which
have been held adapted the bejl of all.
§. 5. Poetry is therefore, on the whole, much superior to either of the other Mimetic Arts 5 it having been Jhewn to be equally excellent in the •f Accuracy of its Imitation - y and to imitate Subjects, which far surpass, as well in % Utility, as in || Dig- nity*
- Ch. IV. §. 3. f P. 89. % P. 86.
il See p. 83, 84. and p. 64, Note (g). See alfi P-59-
CHAP.
PAINTING and POETRY. 95
CHAP. VI.
On. Mufic confidered not as an Imitation, but as deriving its Efficacy from another
Source. On its joint Operation, by this
means, with Poetry. - An Objection to
Mufcfolved. The Advantage arijing to
it, as well as to Poetry, from their being united.-- — Conclujion,
IN the above Difcourfe, Music hasCh.VL been mentioned as an *Ally to Poetry, It has alfo been faid to derive its -f Efficacy from another Source, than Imitation. It remains therefore, that thefe things be ex- plained.
Now, in order to this, it is firft to be obferved, that there are various Affections, which may be raifed by the Power of
Mufic*
1 »i 1 1 1 ■ I ' m— i m il - ■ r. ii. 1 ' ,1 1 | | li 11 m i
- P. 93. f P. 69.
96 ^Discourse on MUSICy
Ch.VI. Mujic. There are Sounds to make us chearfuly or fad-, martial, or tender; and £0 of almoft every other AiFe&ion, which we feeh
It is alfo further obfervable, that there is a reciprocal Operation between our Af- feBions, and our Ideas ; fo that, by a fort of natural Sympathy, certain Ideas necefla- . rily tend to raife in lis certain Affections $ and thofe Affections, by a fort of Counter- Operation, to raife the fame Ideas.- Thus Ideas derived from Funerals, Tortures^ Murders, and the like, naturally generate the Affeftion of Melancholy. And when, by any Phyjical Caufes, that Affection hap- pens to prevail, it as naturally generates the fame doleful Ideas*
And hence it is that Ideas, derived from external Caufes, have at different times, upon the fame Perfon, fo different an Effedt. If they happen to fuit the Affections, which prevail within, then is their Impreffion ??ioJlfenJible, and their Effeft
mojl
PAINTING and POETRY. <) 7
mojl lofting. If the contrary be true, then Ch. VI, is the Effe<£t contrary. Thus, for inftance, a Funeral will much more affedl the fame Man, if he fee it when melancholy, than if he fee it when chearful.
Now this being premifed, it will fol- low, that whatever happens to be the Jlffeftion or Difpofition of Mind, which ought naturally to refult from the Genius of any Poem, the fame probably it will be in the Power of fome Species of Mufic to excite, But whenever the proper AffeBion prevails, it has been allowed that then all kindred Ideas, derived from external Caufes, make the mojl fenfible ImpreJJion. The Ideas therefore of Poetry muft needs make the moft fenfible Impreffion, when the (a) Affe&ions, peculiar \o them, are al- ready
(a) Quint il ian elegantly, and exactly appofite
to this Reafoning, fays of Mufic Namque &
voce &f modulatione grandia elate, jucunda dulciter,
moderate
H
98 A Discourse on MUSIC,
'h. VI. ready excited by the Mufic. For here &
~*~~ n - f double Force is made co-operate to one End* A Poet, thus ajjijiedy finds not an Audience in a Temper, averfe to the Genius of his Poem, or perhaps at bell under a cool In-* difference - y but by the Preludes,, the Sym- phonies, and concurrent Operation of the Mufic in all its Parts, rouzed into thofe nftry Affeclions y which he would moft d#re.
An Audience, fodifpofed, not only em- brace with Pleafure the Ideas of the. Poet, when exhibited - y but, in a manner, even anticipate them in their feveral Imagina- tions. The Superfluous have not a more previous Tendency to be frightned at the fight of Spedres, or a Lover to fall into Raptures at the fight of his Miflrefs y than a Mind, thus tempered by the Power of
Mufic,
moderata lenlter canity totaq\ arte confentit cum eorum, qiue dicuntur, Affectibus. Injl. Orator* 1. 1. cap. io.
PAINTING and POETRY. 99
Mufic, to enjoy all Ideas, which are fuitable Ch. VI. to that Temper.
And hence the genuine Charm of Mufic, and the Wonder s, which it works, thro* its great Profeffors (b). A Power, which confifts not in Imitations, and the raifing Ideas $ but in the railing AffeBions % to which Ideas may correlpond. There are few to be found fo infenfible, I may even fay fo inhumane, as when good Poetry is justly set to Music, jiot in fome degree to feel the Force of fo amiable an Union. But to the Mufes Friends it is a Force irrejijlible^ and pene- H 2 trates
(b) Such,- above all, is George Frederick Handel '; whofe Genius, having been cultivated by continued Exercife, and being itfelf far the fublimeft and moft univerfal now known, has juftly placed him with out an Equal, or a Second. This tranlient Tefti- mony could not be denied fo excellent an Artift, from whom this Treatife has borrowed fuch emi- nent Examples, to juftify its AiTertions in what it has offer'd concerning Mufic,
ioo A Discourse on MUSIC,
Ch.VI.trates into the deepeft Receffes of the Soul.
- PeBus inaniter angit,
Irritat, muket^faljis terroribus implet.
§.2. Now this is that Source ', from whence Mufic was -f faid formerly to de- ygoe its greatefl Efficacy. And here indeed, not in (c) Imitation, ought it to be chiefly cultivated. On this account alfo it has been called a % powerful Ally to Poetry. And farther, 'tis by the help of this Rea- foning, that the Objection is folved, which is raifed againfi the Singing of Poetry (as in Opera's, Oratorio's, &c.) from the want
of
- Horat.Epift. i. 1. 2. v. 21 r.
t P. 69. % P. 93.
(c) For the narrow Extent and little Efficacy c£ Music, confidered as a Mimetic or Imitative Art, fee Ch. II. §.3.
PAINTING and POETRY. 101
of Probability and Refemblance to Nature. Ch.VI. To one indeed, who has no mufical Ear, V- "^* W | this Objection may have Weight. It may- even perplex a Lover of Mufic, if it hap- pen to furprize him in his Hours of In- difference. But when he is feeling the Charm of Poetry Jo accompanied^ let him be angry (if he can) with that, which ferves only to intereft him more feelingly in the Subject, and fupport him in a jlronger and more earnefi Attention; which enforces, by its Aid, the feveral Ideas of the Poem, and gives them to his Imagi- nation with unufual Strength and Gran- deur. He cannot furely but confefs, that he is a Gainer in the Exchange^ when he barters the want of a fingle Proba- bility, that of Pronunciation (a thing merely arbitrary and every where different) for a noble Heightening of Affeffiions which are fuitable to the Occafion, and enable him to enter into the Subject with double Energy and Enjoyment,
h 3 §•
•*)
io2 A Discourse on MUSIC,
§. 3. From what has been faid it is evident, that thefe two Arts can never be fo powerful Jingly, as when they are pro* ferly united. For Poetry, when alone, muft be neceffarily forced to wafte many of its richeft Ideas, in the mere raifing of AfFeftions, when, to have been properljr relifhed, it fhould have found thofe Af- fections in their higheft Energy. And Mufic, when alone, can only raife Affec- tions, which foon languijh and decay, if not maintained and fed by the nutritive Images of Poetry. Yet muft it be re- membered, in this Union, that Poetry ever Jiave the Precedence - y its * Utility, as well as Dignity, being by far the more con* fiderable,
§.4. And thus much, for the prefent, £S to f Music, Painting, and Poetry ;
the
t Ch t V, §, 2. p, 83, t P. 55.
PAINTING and POETRY. 103.
the Circumftances, in which they agree, Ch.VI. and in which they differ; and the Pre-' vmm m Terence, due to one of them above the other two.
The END,
f
H 4
TREATISE the Third:
CONCERNING
HAPPINESS,
A
DIALOGUE.
CONCERNING
HAPPINESS,
DIALOGUE.
PART the First,
J. H. to F. S. I
NATURE feems to treat Man, Parti? as a Painter would his Difciple, *— -v— ■ to whom he commits the Out* Lines of a Figure lightly fketched, which the Scholar for himfelf is to colour and complete. Thus from Nature we derive Senfes, and Paffions, and an InteileQ:, which each of us for himfelf has to model into £ Character. And hence (the reverie
of
io8 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part I. of every Species befide) Human Characters -% ~ r alone are infinitely various ; as various in- deed, as there are Individuals to form them. Hence too, the great Diverfity of Syftems, and of Dodtrines, refpedting the Laws, and Rules, and Conduct of Human Life.
5 T i s in the Hiftory of thefe, my Friend,
you have fo fuccefsfully employed yourfelf.
You have been ftudious to know, not fo
much what Greeks, Romans, or Barbarians
have done - y as what they have reafoned, and
pi. what they have taught. ^Not_anEpkure
~ V has more Joy in the Memory of a deli-
^\ cious Banquet, than I feel in recollecting,
' what we have difcourf^d on thefe Sub-
o
jedts,
And here you cannot forget (for we were both unanimous) the Contemrjt, in which we held thofe fuperiicial Cenfurers, who profefs to refute ^ what they want even Capacities to corn£rehend. Upon the Faith of their own Boafting (could that be
credited)
A Dialogue. 109;
credited) Sentiments are expofed, Opinions Part I, demolished, and the whole Wifdom of ^ Antiquity lies vanquished at their Feet. Like Opera Heroes, upon their own Stage, they can with eafe difpatch a Lion, or dis- comfit a whole Legion. But alafs ! were they to encounter, not the Shadow, but the Subftance, what think you would be the Event then ? — Little better, I fear, than v/as the Fortune of poor Priam, when the feeble Old Man durft attack the Youthful Pyrrbus.
— * Telum imbelle fine iBu
Conjedt : rauco quod protenus cere repulfum, Etfummo Clypei neqiticcjuam umbone pependit ':
Among the many long exploded and obfolete Syftems, there was one, you may remember, for which I profeffed a great Efteem. Not in the leaft degree con- vinced by all I had heard againft it, I
durft
- /Eneld. I. 2. v. 544,
no Concerning HAPPINESS,
- art I. durft venture to affirm, that no Syftem
"" v ""*'was more plaufbk; that grant but its Principles y and the reft followed of courfe -, that none approached nearer to the Per- fection of our own Religion, as I could prove, were there occafion, by Authority not to be controverted. As you, I knew, were the Favourer of an Hypothecs fome- what -f different 5 fo I attempted to fup- port my own, by reciting you a certain Dialogue. Not fucceeding however fo happily in the Recolleftion, as I could wifh, I have fince endeavoured to tran- fcribe, what at that time I would have re- hearfed. The Refult of my Labour is the following Narrative, which I commit with Confidence to your Friendfhip and Can- dour.
^ §. 2. 'Twas at a time, when a certain A w Friend, whom I highly value, was my%*'» Gueft. We had been fitting together,
enter-
f Viz. the Platonic,
^Dialogue. rn
entertaining ourfelves with Shakefpear. Part I Among many of his Characters, we had^""* - * looked into that of Woo/fey. How foon, fays my Friend, does the Cardinal in Dif- grace abjure that Happinefs, which he was lately fo fond of? Scarcely out of Office, but he begins to exclaim
- Vain Pomp and Glory of the World 1 1 bate ye.
So true is it, that our Sentiments ever vary with the Seafon - 7 and that in Adverfity we are of one Mind, in Prosperity, of another. As for his mean Opinion, faid I, of Human Happinefs, 'tis a Truth, which fmall Reflection might have taught him long before. There feems little need of Diftrefs to inform us of this. I rather commend the feeming Wifdom of that Eaftern Mo- narch, who in the Affluence of Profperity, when he was proving every Pleafure, was yet fo fenfible of their Emptinefs, their In- fufficiency to make him happy, that he
pro-
f Shake spear's Henry the Eighth*
-
ii2 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part I. proclaimed a Reward to the Man, who -" v *"^ fhould invent a new Delight. The Re- ward indeed was proclaimed, but the De- light was not to be found. If by Delight, faid he, you mean fome Goody fomething conducive to real Happinefs y it might have been found perhaps, and yet not hit the Monarch's Fancy. Is that, faid I, poffible ? 'Tis poffible, replied he, tho' it had been the [Sovereign
I X jffiy^ ijMfr ^ n d indeed what wonder ?
Is it probable that fuch a Mortal, as an Eaftern Monarch ; fuch a pamper'd, flat- ter'd, idle Mortal > fhould have Attention, or Capacity to a Subjedt fo delicate? A Subject, enough to exercife the Subtleft and moft Acute ?
What then is it you efteem, faid I, the Sovereign Good to be ? It fhould feem, by your Reprefentation, to be fomething very uncommon. Alk me not the Queftion,
faid he, you know not where 'twill carry us. Its general Idea indeed is eafy and 1/ plain; but the Detail of Particulars is ^ ~ perplex'd
^Dialogue. 113,
perplex'd and long Paffions, and Opi- Parti.,
rlions for ever thwart us a Paradox ^ V ^M
appears in almoft every Advance. Befides, did our Inquiries fucceed ever fo happily, the very SubjeSl itfelf is always enough to give riie Pain. That, replied I, feems
a Paradox indeed. 'Tis not, faid he,
from any Prejudice, which I have con- ceived againft it ; for to Man I efteem it the nobleft in the World. Nor is it for being a Subjeft, to which rriy Genius does not lead me ; for no Subject at all times has more employ'd my Attention. But the Truth is, I can fcarce ever think on it, but an Unlucky Story ftill occurs to my Mind. " A certain Star-gazer, with his <£ Telefcope, was once viewing the Moon ; " and defcribing her Seas, her Mountains, " and her Territories. Says a Clown to c< his Companion, Let him fpy what he <£ pleafes -, we- are as near to the Moon, as " he and all his Brethren. 71 So fares ft alafs ! with thefe, our moral Speculations, Practice too often creeps, where Theory can foar. The Philofopher proves as weak,
yv
<l/WL a-fu? - c 3 a n & <
)
as
Vr 4 vK Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part I. as thofe, whom he moji contemns. A morti- •— v— ^ fying Thought to fuch as well attend it. Too mortifying, replied I, to be long dwelt on. Give us rather your ge- neral Idea of the Sovereign Good. This is eafy from your own Account, however in- tricate the Detail.
Thus then, faid he, fince you are fo
urgent, 'tis thus that I conceive it. The
\f Sovereign Good is that, the Pos-
/ session of which renders us Happy,
And how, faid I, do we poffefs it ?
Is it Senfual y or Intellectual? There
you are entering, faid he, upon the Detail
This is beyond your Queftion. Not
a fmall Advance, faid I, to indulge poor
Curiofity ? Will yor raife me a Thirft, and
be fo cruel not to all^y it ? 'Tis not,
replied he, of my raifing, but your own.
Befides I am not certain, Ihould I attempt
to proceed, whether you will admit fuch
i£ Authorities, as 'tis poffible I may vouch.
That, faid I, muft be determined
by their Weight, and Chara&er, Sup-
pofe 3
A DlALOGUt
pofe, faid he, it fhould be Mankind; PartL the whole Human Race. Would you not ^J think it fomething ftrange^ to feek of thofe concerning Good, who purfue it a thou- fand Wapi and many of them contra- dictory ? r I confefs, faid I, it feems fo. And yet, continued he* were there a Point, in which fuch Dijfentients ever agreed^ this Agreement would be no meari Argument in favour of its Truth and Juji- nefs. But where, replied I, is this
Agreement to be found ?
He anfwered me by afking* What if it fhould appear* that there were certain Original Characteristics and Pre- \ J conceptions of GooD^ which were Na* \ / tural, Uniform ant^Com^n fo alb A/ Men 5 which all recognized in their various K Purfuits-> and that the Difference lay only \ \ in the applying them to Particu- ■ v la&s ? This requires, faid I, to be
illuftratedi As if, continued he* a
Company of Travellers, in fome wide Foreft, were all intending for one City, I a but
1 16 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Parti, but each by a Rout peculiar to himfelf.
""" v ~"*^ The Roads indeed would be various, and many perhapsy^? ; but all who travelled, would have one E?td in view, 'Tis
evident, faid I, they would. So fares
it then, added he, with Mankind in pur- fuit of Good. The Ways indeed are Many, JC but what they feeki^ ONE .
For inftance: Did you ever hear of any, who in purfuit of their Good, were for living the Life of a Bird, an Infedfc, or a Fifh ? None. And why not ? It would be inconfiftent, anfwered I, with their Nature. You fee then, faid he, they all agree in this- — that what they purfue, ought to be confjlent, and agreeable to their proper Nature, So ought it, faid I, undoubtedly. If fo, \J continued he, one Pre-conception is dif- covered, which is common to Good in gene- ral It is, that all Good is fuppofed fome-
thing agreeable to Nature, This in-
deed, replied I, feems to be agreed on all hands.
But
yf Dialogue, 117 ':
But again, faid he, Is there a Man Part EI
fcarcely to be found of a Temper fo truly *"" *"*"" mortified, as to acquiefce in the lowejl, and Jhorteji Necejfaries of Life? Who aims not, if he be able, at fomething farther, fome- thing better ? I replied, Scarcely one.
Do not Multitudes purfue, faid he, infinite Objects of Defire, acknowledged, every one of them, to be in no refpect Necejfaries ? Exquiiite Viands, deli- cious Wines, fplendid Apparel, curious Gar- dens ; magnificent Apartments adorned with Pictures and Sculpture - y Mufic and Poetry, and the whole Tribe of Elegant Arts ?
'Tis evident, faid I. If it be,
continued he, it fhpuld feem that they all confidered the Chief or Sovereign Good, not to be that, which conduces to bare Exifience or mere Being ; for to this the Necejfaries alone are adequate, I replied they were.
But if not this., it muft be fomewhat / O conducive to that, which is fuperior to mere / v ' Being. It muft. And what, con-
tinued he, can this be, but Well-Bein g ? CT%
I 3 Well- A*^<
IiS Concerning .HAPPINESS,
Part I. Well-Being, under the various Shapes, in
"****** which differing Opinions paint it ? Or can
you fuggeft any thing elfe ? I replied,
T*°.cer?*J C ould not. Mark here, then, cqnr
. _v,/i tinuedhe, another Preconception^ in which
/ tthey all agree r-~ — r the Sovereign Good is
fomewhat conducive^ not to mere Beings but
to Well-Being. I replied, It had fo ap^
V^pearedf
Again, continued he. What Labour, what Expence, to procure thofe Rarities, which our own poor Country is unable to afford us ? How is the World ranfacked to its utmofl Verges, and Luxury and Arts imported from every Quarter ? — — Nay more — — --- How do we baffle Nature herr felf; invert her Order ; feek the Vegetables pf Spring in the Rigours of Winter, and Winter's Ice, during the Heats of Sum- mer ? I replied, We did. And yvhat Difappointment, what Remorfe, when Endeavours fail ? 'Tis true. If this then be evident, faid he, it fhould feem> that whatever wp delire as our Chief and
Sove-
^Dialogue. 119
Sovereign Good, is fomething which, as far Part I. as pojjible, we would accommodate to all Places**"~ >rm "\ and Times. I anfwered, So it appeared.
See then, faid he, another of its Cha- Jj \ raBerijlics, another P re-conception, ? & *%
But farther ftill What Contefts for
Wealth f What Scrambling for Property? What Perils in the Purfuit - 9 what Sollieitude
in the Maintenance ? And why all this ?
To what Purpofe, what End?— — Or is not the Reafon plain ? Is it not that Wealth may continually procure us, whatever we fancy Good; and make that perpetual^ which would otherwife be tranjient ? I replied, It feemed fo. Is it not far-
ther defired, as fupplying us from ourfehes $ when, without it, we muft be beholden to the Benevolence of others, and depend on their Caprice for all that we enjoy ? 'Tis true, faid I, this feems a Reafon,
A g a 1 n — Is not Power of every degree
as much contefted for, as Wealth ? Are not
Magiftracies, Honours, Principalities, and
I 4 Empire*
,
2Q Concerning HAPPINESS,
|Part I. Empire, the Subje&s of Strife, and ever-*
pV- . lafting Contention ? I replied, They
were. And why, faid he, this ? To
obtain what End ? Is it not to help us,
like Wealth, to the Poffefjion of what we defire? Is it not farther to afcertain, to fecure our Enjoyments- that when others would deprive us, we may hzftrong enough to rejijl them ? I replied. It was.
\^r
A Or to invert the whole— -t— Why are
there, who feek Receffes the moft diftant
and retired ? fly Courts and Power, and
r-* I fubmit to Parcimony and Obfcurity f Why
tC ^ all this, but from the fame Intention ?
1 1 ^ From an Opinion that fmall Pofieffions^
l*JL W^d moderately, are permanent that
ru-r -ir larger PoflefBpns raife Envy, and are more
- -^ frequently invaded—--—- that the Safety of
Power and Dignity is more precarious , than '~% . that of Retreat - ? and that therefore they have chofen, what is moft eligible upon the 'whole ? It is not ? faid I, improbable,
that they aft by feme fueh Motive,
Do
^ Dialogue, 121
Do you not fee then, continued he, two Parti. or three more Pre-conceptions of the Sove- reign Good, which are fought for by all, as ^ Eflential to conftitute it ? And what, >Lr>-«
faid I, are thefe ? That it fhould
not be tranfient, nor derived from the Will of others, nor in their Power to take away ; but be durable, felf derived, and (if I may ufe the Expreffion ) i ndeprivable. t^-
I confefs, faid I, it appears fo. But we have already found it to be con- ; fidered, asfometbing agreeable to our Nature $ - /u*^ condiicive, not to mere Being, but to Well- Being; and what we aim to have ac common date to ,all Places and Times, We have.
CsK&Ti
There may be other Chara&eriftics, , faid he, but thefe I think fufficient. See j^, then its Idea ; behold it ? as collected from-v^ -*t the Original, Natural, and Univerfal Pre* J^u±t conceptions of all Mankind, The Sove- ;w^ reign Good, they have taught us, ought to be fomething — — Agreeable to our Nature 5 Conducive to Well-Being $
r- . i n Cnctrnmg HAPPIXES S,
Parti. A :odate to all Places axd
■~ v "*- Times 5 Durable, Self-derived, and
Indeprivable. Your Account, laid I,
appears juit.
It matters, continued he, little, how
they err in the - :n if they covet
that as agreeable to Nt which is in it-
r'moil Contrary if they would have
- Durable, which is in itielf moll
Tranfient that as Independent, and their
own, which is moil precarious and
"Tis e if we know their
j&m enough, if we can dilcover, w
'tis they propcrfc the Means and Met
may be objure SB it happens. I an-
fwered, Their Aim was furficieni to prove it he had afTer r
Tis true, replied he, 'tis abundantly
- \: indent. And yet perhaps, even tho* this
were ever fo certain, it would not be al- together f: reign, were we to examine, ad; how r the fbeceed in ap-
ring thefe Umvcrjah tc J :r Sub*
it
A Dialog ue, 123
JeSs. Should they be found juji in the P
Application, we need look no farther s ~*~ vmm S
The true S<r;ereign G :uld of courfe
be Plain and Otrjious ; and we fhould have no more to do, than to follow the beaten ad 'Tis granted, replied I. But
what if thev er Time enough for
that, faid he, when we are iatisfied that they do. We ought firft to infonn our- felves, whether they may not poffibly be in the Right. I firbmitted, and begged
him to proceed his own Way.
§. 3. Will you then, faid he, in this Difquiiition into Human Conduct, allow
me this —That fuch, as is the Species
of Life, which even, 7 one cbocfes; iiich ids Idea of Hat>pimfs> fuch his Canceptx of the Sovereign Good ? I feem, faid I,
to comprehend You, but mould be You would illuftrate. His V
he anfwered, was no more than this
If a Man prefer a Life of Indufir be-
caufe he has an Id: a of Happinefs in JP if he prefers a Life of Gaie: from a
like
124 ■ Concerning HAPPINESS,
Parti, like Idea concerning Pleafure. And the
~ vmmm ^fame, we fay, holds true in every other
Inftance. I told him, It muft cer«
tainly.
And can you recoiled, faid he, any u>A/*/-Life, b ut what is a Life of Bii§njf x _ orjof ^.«tk '^ e ij ure ^ I anfwered, None. And
is not the great End of Bujinefs either Power, or Wealth ? * It is. Mull:
not every Life therefore of Bu/inefs, be either Political or Lucrative f It muft.
Again Are not IntelleB and Senfe,
the Soul's leading Powers ? They are.
And in Leifure are we not ever
feeking, to gratify one, or the other ?
We are. Muft not every Life there-
I f- fore of Leifure be either Pleafwrable, or
I + Contemplative? If you confine Pleafure,
^ faid I, to Senfe i I think it neceffarily muft.
y i / If it be not fo confined, faid he, we
' A confound all Inquiry, Allow it,
V
Mark then, faid he, the two grand
- ss and of
Leisure
Genera, the Lives of Business and of
A Dialogue 1251,
Leisure mark alfo the fubordinate Part I. •
Species \ the Political and Lucra- tive, the Contemplative and Pleasurable Can you think of any- other, which thefe will not include ? I replied, I knew of none. 'Tis po£-
lible indeed, faid he, that there may be other Lives framed, by the blending of thefe, two or more of them, together* But if we feparate with Accuracy, we mail find that here they all terminate, I replied, fo it feemed probable.
If then, continued he, we would be exact in our Inquiry, we muft examine thefe four Lives, and mark their Confe~ quences. 'Tis thus only we mall learn^ how far thofe, who embrace them, find that Good and Happinefs, which we know they all purfue. I made anfwer, It
feemed neceffary, and I mould willingly attend him.
§.4. To begin then, faid he, with the Political Life. Let us fee the Good,
ufually
- 26 Concerning HAPPINESS,
(Part L ufually fought after here. To a private
- Man, it is the Favour of fome Prince, or
Commonwealth ; the Honours and Emo- luments derived from this Favour; the Court and Homage of Mankind ; the Power of commanding others ---— - To a | Prince, it is the fame Things nearly, only
greater in Degree ; a larger Command -> a ftridler and more fervile Homage $ Glory,
Conqueft, and extended Empire Am I
right in my Defcription ? I replied 5
I thought he was* Whether then, faid he, all this deferve the Name of Good or not, I do not cc itrovert. Be it one, or the other, it affe&s not our Inquiry. All that I would afk concerning it* is this—-- Do you not think it a Good (if it really be one) derived from Foreign and External Caufes ? Undoubtedly, replied I.
It cannot come then from ourfelves, or be felf-derived. It cannot* And what
fliall we fay as to its Duration and Stabi- lity f Is it fofrm and lajling, that we can- not be deprived of it ? I fhould imagine, faid I, quite otherwife. You infift not
then.
A Dialogue. 127;'
then, faid he, on my appealing to Hi/lory. Part I, 'i You acknowledge the Fate of Favourites, L "" V ""Y of Empires, and their Owners. I re- plied, I did.
If fo, faid he, it fhould feem that this Political Good, which they feek, correfponds not to the Pre-conceptions of being Durable, and Indeprivable. Far from it. But
it appeared juft before, not to be felf- derived. It did. You fee then,
faid he, that in three of our Pre-conceptions it intirely fails. So indeed, faid I, it appears.
But farther, faid he— —We are told of this Good y that in the Pojfefjion it is attended with Anxiety, and that when lojl, it is ufually loft with Ignominy and Dijgrace; nay, often with Profecutions and the bit- tereft Refentments; with Mulcts, with Exile, and Death itfelf. 'Tis frequently, faid I, the Cafe. How then, faid he, can it anfwer that other Pre-conception, of contributing to our Well-Being ? Can that
contribute
28 Concerning HAPPINESS,
^art I. contribute to Well -Being, whofe Confe- " v ~"*""^ quinces lead to Calamity, and whofe Pre- fence implies Anxiety ? This, it muft be confefled, faid I, appears not probable.
But once more, faid he — — - There are certain Habits or Difpoftions of Mind, called Sincerity, Generofity, Candour, Plain-dealing, Juftice, Honour, Honefty, and the like. There are. And it has been generally believed, that thefe are agreeable to Nature. Afluredly.
But it has been as generally believed, that the Political Good, we Ipeak of, is often not to be acquired but by Habits, contrary to thefe ; and which, if thefe are Natural, muft of neceffity be unnatural. What
Habits, faid I, do you mean ? Flattery, anfwered he, Diffimulation, Intrigue: upon occafion, perhaps Iniquity, Falfhood, and Fraud. 'Tis poffible indeed, faid I,
that thefe may fometimes be thought necef- fary. How then, faid he, can that
Good be agreeable to Nature, which cannot be acquired, but by Habits contrary to
Nature f
^ Dialogue. 129;
Nature? Your Arguments faid I, Partly
feems juft. <— -v— %
I If then, faid he, We have reafoned rightly, and our Conclufions may be de- pended on; it fhould feem that the sup- posed Good, which the Political Life purfues, correfponds not, in any hijlance, to our P re-conceptions of the 'Sovereign Good. I anfwered, So it appeared.
§. 5. Let us quit then, faid he, thePoli* ticalLife, and pafs to the Lucrative. The Objedt of this is Wealth. Admit it.
And is it not too often, faid he, the Cafe, that to acquire this, we are tempted to employ fome of thofe Habits, which we have juft condemned as Unnatural? Such, I mean, as Fraud, Falfhood, Injuftice, and the like ? It mufl be owned, faid l %
too often.
Besides, continued he What fhall
we fay to the Efteem, the Friendship, and
Love of Mankind ? Are they worth having ?
K Is
130 Concerning HAPPINESS,.
Parti. Is it agreeahky think you, to Nature ', to ' m ~v mmJ endeavour to deferve them ? Agreeable, faid I, to Nature, beyond difpute. If
fo, then to merit Hatred and Contempt, faid he, muft needs be contrary to Nature. Undoubtedly. And is there any
thing which fo certainly merits Hatred and Contempt^ as a mere Lucrative Life y fpent in the uniform Purfitit of Wealth? I replied, I believed there was nothing. If fo, faid he, then as to correspond- ing with our Pre-conceptions f the Lucrative Good y in this fefpeca, fares no better than the Political It appears not.
v And what fhall we fay as to Anxiety? Is not both the PoJfeJ/ton and Purfuit of Wealth, to thofe who really love it, ever anxious? It feems fo. And why
anxious, but from a Certainty of its Infta- bility ; from an Experience, how obnoxious it is to every crofs Event ; how eafy to be loft and transfefd to others, by the fame Fraud and Rapine, which acquired it ta ourfelves ? — -This is indeed the tritefl: of
all
A Dialogue, 13:'
all Topics. The Poets and Orators have Part I long ago exhaufted it. 'Tis true, faid I, Wnr ^|' they have. May we not venture then,
faid he* upon the whole, to pafs the fame Sentence on the Lucrative Life* as we have already on the Political—- — - that it propofes not a Good, correfpondent to thofe Pre-conceptions, by which we would all be governed in the Good, which we are allfeekingi I anfwered, We might
juftly.
§.6* If then neither the Lucrative Life, nor the Political, faid he, procure that Good which \ e defire : fhall we feek - . it from the Pleasurable? Shall we make Pleasure our Goddefs?
— - — - Pleafure§ Whom Love attends^ and foft Dejire^ and
Words Alluring, apt thefleddieji Heart to bend*
So fays the Poet, and plaufible his Doc-< rine. Plaufible, faid I, indeed.
K 2 L?^
[32 Concerning HAPPINESS,
artl. Let it then, continued he, be a plea* ~ >rmmJ jur -able World-, a Race of harmlefs, loving Animals $ an Elyfian Temperature of Sun- fhine and Shade. Let the Earth, in every Quarter, referable our own dear Country j where never was a Froft, never a Fog, never a Day, but was delicious and ferene. I was a little embarraffed at this un- expected Flight, 'till recolle&ing myfelf, I told him, (but ftill with fome Surprize) that, in no degree to difparage either my Country or my Countrymen, I had never found Either fo exquifite, as he now fuppofed them. There are then it
feems, faid h£, in the Natural World, and even in our own beloved Country, fuch things as Storms, and Tempefls -, as pinching Colds, and fcorching Heats. I replied, There were. And confe-
quent to thefe, Difeafe, and' Famine, and infinite Calamities. There are.
And in the Civil or Human World, we have Dijtord and Contention*, or (as the
Poet
i D I A t O G U E,
Poet better * defcribes it)
Cruel Revenge, and rancorous Dejpite, Dijloyal Treafon, and heart-burning Hate.
We have. Alafs ! then, poor
Pleafure ! Where is that Good, accommo* date to every 'Time \ fuited to every Place ; felf-derived, not dependent on Foreign Ex* ternal Caufes? Can it be Pleasure, on fuch a changeable, fuch a turbulent Spot, as this ? I replied, I thought not.
And what indeed, were the World, faid he, modelled to a Temperature the moji exaB ? Were the Rigours of the Seaibns never more to be known ; nor Wars, De- vaftations, Famines cr Difeafes? Admit- ting all this, (which we know to be //»* pojfible) can we find ftill in Pleafure that \kngthened Duration, which we confider as Ian Efential, to conftitute the Sovereign
pood f Aflc the Glutton, the Drinker,
K 3 the
ISpencer's Fairy Queen, B. 2. Cant. 7. Stanz. 221
Concerning HAPPINESS,
the Man of Gaiety and Intrigue, whether they know any Enjoyment, not to be can- celled by Satiety ? Which does not haftily pafs away into the tedious Intervals of In- difference t Or yielding all this too,
' (which we know cannot be yielded) where are we to find our Good, how poffefs it in Age ? In that Eve of Life, declining Age, when the Power of Senfe, on which all de- fends, like the fetting Sun, is gradually for- faking us ?
I should imagine, faid I, that Pleafure was no mean Adverfary, fince you em- ploy, in attacking her, fo much of your Rhetoric. Without heeding what I faid, he purfued his Subject — Befide, if thi; be our Good, our Happinefs, and our End to what purpofe Powers, which bear n<
Relation to it ? Why Memory ? Wh
Reafon? Mere Senfation might have beei as exqui/ite, had we been Flies or Earti
Worms Or can it be proved other wifi]
I replied, I could not fay. No Ar\ maly continued he, pofjeffes its Faculties Ify
r CC:\
^ Dialogue, 13
vain. And (hall Man derive no Good Part from his bejl, his moil eminent ? From That, which of all is peculiar to himfelf ? For as to Growth and Nutrition, they are not wanting to the meaneft Vegetable , and for Senfes, there are Animals, which per- haps exceed us in them all.
§. 7. This feems, faid I, no mean Ar- gument in favour of Contemplation. The Contemplative Life gives Reafon all the Scope, which it can defire. And of all Lives, anfwered he, would it furely be the beft, did we dwell, like Milton's Uriel, in the Sun's bright Circle. Then might we plan indeed the moft Romanti c ~~ Kind of Happinefs. Stretch'd at Eafe, without Trouble or Moleftation, we might pafs our Days, contemplating the Uni- verie -, tracing its Beauty ; loft in Wonder ; ravifhed with Ecftacy, and. I know not what — -But here alafs ! on this fublunary, this turbulent Spot, (as we called it not long fince) how little is this, or any thing
like it, practicable ? Fogs arife, which
K 4 dim
36 Concerning HAPPINESS,
art I. dim our Profpe&s— the Cares of Life per- petually moleft us Is Contemplation fuited
to a Place, like this? It muft be owned, faid I, not extremely. How then is it the Sovereign Good, which fhould be Ac- commodate to every Place ? I replied, It feemed not probable.
But farther, faid he Can we enjoy
the Sovereign Good, and be at the fame time vexed) and agitated by Papon ? Does not this feem a Paradox ? I anfwered, It did* Suppofe then an Event were to happen — not an Inundation, or Majfacre — but an Acquaintance only drop a difrefpe£t~ ful Word-, a Servant chance to break a favourite Piece of Furniture — What would inftrudt us to endure this ? Contempla- tion, Theory, Abftradtions ? Why not, faid I ? No, replied he with Warmth, (quoting the Poet) not
- Wo all the Stars
Thou knew" ft by Name-, and all the Etherial Powers. Foi
- Par. Loft, B. 12* v. 576.
A Dialogue. 137
For does not Experience teach us, abun- Part] dantly teach us, that our deepeft Philofo- u, ~ v "" phers, as to Temper and Behaviour ', are as very Children for the moll part, as the meaneft and moft illiterate ? A little more Arrogance perhaps, from Prefumption of what they know, but not a grain more of Magnanimity 1 of Candour and calm Indu- rance.
You are fomewhat too fevere, faid I, in cenfuring of all. There are better and worfe among Them, as among Others. The Difference is no way propor- tioned y faid he, to the Quantity of their Knowledge ; fo that .Avhatever be its Caufe, it can't be imputed to their Speculations. — Befides, can you really imagine, we came here only to Think ? Is Affiing a Circum- ftance, which is foreign to Our Character ?
Why then fo many Social Affedliom,
which all of us feel, even infpite of our- felves ? Are we to fupprefs them All, as ufelefs and unnatural? The Attempt,
replied I, muft needs be found impra&i-
cable*
138 Concerning HAPPINESS,
?#rt I. cable. Were they once fupprejfed> faid j" - "*""" he, the Confequences would be fomewhat ftrange. We fhould liear no more of Fa- ther, Brother, Hufband, Son, Citizen, Ma- giftrate, and Society itfelf. And were this ever the Cafe, ill (I fear) would it fare with even Contemplation itfelf, It would certainly be but bad Speculating, among lawlefs Barbarians Unaffociated Ani- mals where Strength alone of Body was
to constitute Dominio7i, and the 'Conteft came to be (as * Horace defcribes it)
glandem at que cuhili 'a propter ,
TJnguibus & pugnis, deinfuflibus — -
Bad enough ? replied I, of all con- fidence.
It fhould feem then, faid he, that not even the best Contemplative Life, however noble its ObjeB, was agreeable to our present Nature, or conjiflent
with
- Sat. 3. 1, 1. v. 99.
A Dialogue. 139 ,
with our prefent Situation. I confefs, Part I,
faid I, you appear to have proved fo. But if this be allowed true of the Bejl % the moft Excellent •> what fhall we fay to the Mockery of Monkery y the Farce of Friars ; the ridiculous Mummery of being fequeftred in a Cloyjler? This furely is too low a Thing, even to merit an Examina- tion. I have no Scruples here, faid I, you need npt wafte your Time.
§.8. If that, faid he, be your Opinion, let us look a little backward. For our Memory's fake it may be proper to reca- pitulate. I replied, 'Twould be highly
acceptable. Thus then, faid he
We have examined the four grand Lives> which we find the Generality of Men em- brace , the Lucrative ', and the Political $ the Pleafurable, and the Contemplative. And we have aimed at proving that — - tofuch a Being as Man, with fuch a Body, fitch Affections , fuch Senfes, and fuch an In- tellect placed in fuch a World, fubjefl;
to fuch Incidents— not one of thefe Lives is
pro-
I 140 Concerning HAPPINESS,
I Part I. produdiive of that Good, which we find all .i"""""*"" Men to recognize thro' the fame uniform Pre-conceptions; and which thro' one or other of thefe Lives they all of them purfue.
§. 9. You have juflly, faid I, colle&ed the Sum of your Inquiries. And
happy, faid he, fhould I think it, were they to terminate here. I afked him,
Why? Becaufe, replied he, to in-
finuate firft, that all Mankind are in the wrong j and then to attempt afterwards, to fhew one's felf only to be right ; is a Degree of Arrogance, which I would not willingly be guilty of. I ventured here
to fay, That I thought he need not be fo
diffident- that a Subjedt, where one's
own Interejl appeared concerned fo nearly, would well juftify every Scruple, and even the fevereft Inquiry. There, faid he,
you fay fomething there you encourage
me indeed. For what ? Are we not
cautioned againft Counterfeits, even in Mat- ters of meaneft Value ? If a Piece of Metal he tender'd us, which feems doubtful, do
we
A Dialogue. 141'
we not heiitate ? Do we not try it by the Part I J Tejiy before we take it for Current? — And u ~" v ** - is not this deem'd Prudence ? Are we not
cenfured, if we adt otherwife ? How
much more then does it behove us not to be impofed on here ? To be diffident and fcrupuloufly exadt, where Impo/lure, if once admitted, may tempt us to a far wo?fe Bar- gain, than ever Glaucus made with Diotned ? ^ /y
What Bargain, faid I, do you mean ?
The Exchange, replied he, not of Gold for Brafs, but of Good for Evil, and
of Rappinefs for Mifery But enough of
this, fince you have encouraged me to proceed — We are feeking that Good, which we think others have not found. Permit me thus to purfue my Subjedi
§. 10. Every Being on this our Ter~
rejlrial Dwellings exifts encompa(jed with infinite Objecls - y exifts among Animals tame i and Animals wild; among Plants and Ve- getables of a thoufand different Qualities; among Heats and Colds, Tempefts and Calms, the Friendfhips and Difcords of
hetero-
14* Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part I. heterogeneous Elements What fay you ?
Are all thefe Things exactly the fame to it j or do they differ, think you, in their Ef- fects and Confequences? They differ^ faid I, widely. Some perhaps then, faid he, are Apt, Congruous, and Agreeable to its Natural State, I replied, They were. Others are In-apt, Incongruous? and Difagreeable. They are. And others again are Indifferent. . They are*
It fhould feem then, faid he, if this be 1 allowed, that to every individual Being* without the leajl Exception, the whole Ma fs of Things External, from the great eft to the medneft, flood in the Relations of either Agreeable, Difagreeable, or hidifferent. I replied, So it appeared.
f>
But tho' this, continued he, be true in the general, 'tis yet as certain when we defcend to Particulars, that what is Agree- able to one Species is Difagreeable to another - t and not only fo, but perhaps Indifferent to
A Dialogue; 143 ,
a third. Inftances of this kind, he faid, Part I* , were too obvious to be mentioned.
I replied, 'Twas evident* Whence then> faid he, this Diverfty ? — It cannot arife from the Externals — - for Water is equally Water ', whether to a Man, or to a Fijlo-y whether, operating on the one, it fuffocate, or on the other, it give Life and Vigour. I replied, It was. So is y^ ?
Fire, faid he, the fame. Fire, however various in its Confequences ; whether it harden or foften, give Pleafure or Pain. I replied, It was. But if this Z)/- Verfity, continued he, be not derived from the Externals, whence can it be elfe ? — » Or can it poffibly be derived otherwife than from the peculiar Conftitution, from the Natural State of every Species itfelf ? I replied, It appeared probable.
Thus then, faid he, is it that Every particular Species is, itfelf to itfelf the I cficJk Meafure of all Things in the U?tiverfe — that I. I as Things vary in their Relations to it, they
vary
144 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part I. vary too in their Value and that if their
Value be ever doubtful it can no way be ad~ jufted, but by recurring with Accuracy to the Natural State of the Species, and to thofe fever al Relations, which fuch a State of courfe creates. I anfwered, He ar-
gued juftly.
§. ii. To proceed then, faid he — Tho* it be true, that every Species has a Natural State, as we have afferted ; it is not true, that every Species has a Senfe or Feeling of it. This Feeling or Senfe is a Natural Eminence or Prerogative, denied the Vege- table and Inanimate, and imparted only to the Animal. I anfwered, It was.
And think you, continued he, that as many as have this Senfe or Feeling of a Natural State, are alienated from it, or in- different to it ? Or is it not more probable, that they are well-affeffied to it ? Experience, faid I, teaches us, how well they are all affe&ed. You are right,
replied he. For what would be more
abfurd,
,/f Dialogue. 141
abjure^ than to be indifferent to their own Part; Welfare 5 or to be alienated from it, as tho' - • *" v 1fS 'twas Foreign and Unnatural*? I replied, Nothing could be more. But, con-
tinued he, if they are welUaffeSied to this their proper Natural State, it fhould feem too they muft be well-affe£ted to all thofe Externals* which appear apt, congruous, and agreeable to it. I anfwered, They
muft. And if fo, then ill-affected of
averfe to fuch, as appear the contrary* They muft. And to fuch as appeaf
indifferent, indifferent* They muflv
But if this, faid he 3 be allowed, it will follow, that in confequence of thefe Appearances, they will think fome Exter-* rials worthy of Purfuit; fome worthy of Avoidance-, and fome worthy of neither* 'Twas probable, faid I, they fhould*
Hence then, faid he, another Divifion of Things external; that is, into Purfuable> Avoidable, and lndifferent—%. Divifion only belonging to Beings Senjitive and Animate^ becaufe all, below thefe,, can neither avoid L nor
146 Concerning HAPPINESS,
'art I. nor purfue. I replied, They could
1 ~ v ""~ ; not.
If, then, faid he, Man be allowed in the Number of thefe Senfitive Beings, this
Divifion will affect Man or to explain
more fully, the whole Mafs of Things exter- nal willy according to this Divifion, exijl to the Human Species in the Relations of Pur- fuabky Avoidable ', and Indifferent. I re-
plied, They would.
Should we therefore defire, faid he, to know what thefe things truly are, we muft firft be informed, what is Man's truly Natural Constitution. For thus, you may remember, 'twas fettled not long fince — that every Species was its own Standard, and that when the Value of Things was doubtful, the Species was to be jludied, the Relations to be deduced, which were confequent to it 5 and in this manner the Value of Things to be adjujled and apper- tained. I replied, We had fo agreed it. I fear then, faid he, we are en- gaged
A Dialogue. 147
gaged in a more arduous Undertaking, a Part I. ^1 Talk of more Difficulty, than we were at L ' firft aware of— But Fortuna Fortes — we muft endeavour to acquit ourfelves as well as we are able*
§. 12. That Man therefore has a Body, of a Figure and internal Structure peculiar to itfelf ; capable of certain De- grees of Strength^ Agility, Beauty, and the like ; this I believe is evident, and hardly wants a Proof* I anfwered, I was
willing to own it* That he is capable
too of Pleafure and Pain -> is poffefs'd of Senfes, AffecJions , Appetites, and Aver fans $ "this alfo feems evident, and can fcarcely be denied. I replied, 'Twas admitted*
We may venture then to range Him in the Tribe of Animal Beings. I replied, We might*
And think you> faid he> without Society \
you or any Man could have been born ?
Moft certainly not. Without
Society, when born, could you have been
L 2 brought
148 Concerning HAPPINESS,
^art I. brought to Maturity ? Moft certainly
'—v~— ' not. Had your Parents then had no
Social AJfeBions towards you in that peri- lous State, that tedious Infancy, (fo much longer than the longefi of other Animals) you mull have inevitably perifhed thro' Want and Inability. I muft. You
perceive then that to Society you, and every Man are indebted, not only for the Beginning of Being, but for the Continu- ance. We are.
Suppose then we pafs from this Birth and Infancy of Man, to his Maturity and
Perfection Is there any Age, think you,
fo felffiifficient, as that in it he feels no Wants? What Wants, anfwered I,
do you mean ? In the firft and prin-
cipal place, faid he, that of Foody then perhaps that of Raiment % and after this, a Dwelling, or Defence againft the Wea- ther, Thefe Wants, replied I, are furely Natural at all Ages. And is it not agreeable to Nature, faid he, that they fhould at all Ages be fupplied? Af-
furedly.
A Dialogue. 149
furedly. And is it not more agreeable Part I
to have them well fupplied, than-///? *"*"""
It is. And mojl agreeable, to have
them befi fiipplied ? Certainly.
If there be then any one State, better than all others, for the fupplying thefe Wants ; this State, of all others, mujl needs be mojl Natural. It muft.
And what Supply, faid he, of thefe Wants, fliall we efteem the meanejl, which we can conceive ? — Would it not be fome- thing like this ? Had we nothing beyond Acorns for Food-, beyond a rude Skin, for Raiment 5 or beyond a Cavern, or hollow Tree, to provide us with a Jewelling ? Indeed, faid I, this would be bad enough.
And do you not imagine, as far as this, we might each fupply ourfehes, tho' we lived in Woods, mere folitary Savages ?
I replied, I thought we might.
Suppose then, continued he, that our
Supplies were to be meyided — -for inftance,
that we were to exchange Acorns for
L 3 Bread-—*
Concerning HAPPINESS,
Bread — -Would our Savage Character be fufficient here ? Muft we not be a little better difciplined ? Would not fome Art
be requifite ? The Baker's, for example.
It would. And previoujly to
the Baker's, that of the Miller ? It
would. And previoujly to the Miller's,
that of the Hujbandman ? It would.
Three Arts then appear necejfary, even upon the loweft Eftimatiqn. 'Tis
admitted.
But a Queftion farther, faidhe— .Can, the Huibandman work, think you, with-r out his Tools? Muft he not have his Plough, his Harrow, his Reap-hook, and the like ? He muft. And muft not
thofe other Artifts too be furrifhed in the fame manner ? They muft. And
whence muft they be fumifhed? From their own Arts ? — Or are not the making Tools, arid the ujing them, two different Occupations ? I believe, faid I, they
are. You may be convinced, continued he^ by fmall Recollection. Does Agricul- ture-
A Dl ALOGUE. 151
iure make its own Plough, its own Harrow ? Part I. Or does it not apply to other Arts, for all *^ r "^ Neceffaries of this kind ? It does.
Again Does the Baker build his own
Oven ; or the Miller frame his own Mill ?. It appears, faid I, no part of their Bufinefs.
What a Tribe of Mechanics then,-feid he, are advancing upon us ? — Smiths, Car- penters, Mafons, Mill-wrights and all
thefe to provide the Jingle NeceJJary of Bread. Not lefs than fey en or eight Arts, we find, are wanting at the fewejl. It
appears fo. And what if to the pro-
viding a comfortable Cottage, and Raiment fuitable to an indujlrioits Hind, we allow a dozen Arts more ? It would be eafy, by the fame Reafoning, to prove the Number double, I admit the Number, faid I,
mentioned.
If fo, continued he, it fhouldfeem, that
towards a tolerable Supply of the three Pri- mary and Common Necejfaries, Food, Raiment y L 4 and
152 Concerning HAPPINESS,
l*art I. and a Dwellings not lefs than twenty Arte ^" v *" were y on tfye lowejl Account y requifte* It appears fo.
And is one Man equal, think you, to the Exercife of thefe twenty Arts ? If he had even Genius y which we can fcarce ima« gine, is it poffible he fhquld find Leifure ? - I replied, I thought not. If fo>
then zfolitary y unfocial State can never fupph tolerably the common Necejfaries of Life, It cannot.
But what if we pafs from the Necejfa* ries of Life, to the Elegancies ? To Mufic,
Sculpture, Painting and Poetry? • What
if we pafs from all Arts y whether Neceffary or Elegant^ to the large and various Tribe oi Sciences f To Logic, Mathematics, Aftro-* jiomy, Phyiics ? t- Can one Man, imagine you, mafter all this ? Abfard, faid I, im-? poffible. And yet in this Cycle of Sciences $md Arts y feem included all the Comforts, as well as Ornaments of Life ; included all conducive, either toBeing y or to V/ell-Being,
it
A Dialogue. 153;
It muft be confeffed, faid I, it has Parti, the Appearance.
What then, faid he, muft be done? In what manner muft we be fupplied? I anfwered, I knew not, unlefs we made a Dijlribution — Let one exercife one Art; and another a different — • Let^ this- Man ftudy fuch a Science ; and that Man,
another*- Thus the whole Cycle (as you
call it) may be carried eafily into Perfeo tion. 'Tis true, faid he, it may; and
every Individual, as far as his own Art or Science, might be fupplied completely, and as well as he could wifh. But what avails 3 Supply in a Jingle Inftance ? What in this cafe are to become of all his numerous other Wants'? You conceive, replied I, what I would have faid, but partially. My Meaning was, that Artijl trade with Ar* tijl 1 each fupply where he is deficient, by exchanging where he abounds -> fo that 3. Portion of every thing may be difperfed throughout all, You intend then a State,
m
[r 54 Concerning HAPPINESS,
r^rtl, faid he, of Commutation and Traffic, ~"~ v I replied, I did.
If fo, continued he, I fee a new Face of things. The Savages, with their Skins and their Caverns, difappear. In their place I behold a fair Community rifing. No longer Woods, no longer Solitude^ but all is Social, Civil, and Cultivated — And can we doubt any farther, whether Society .be Natural ? Is not this evidently the State, which can bejl fupply the Primary Wants I It has. ap-
peared fo. > And did we not agree
fome time lince, that this State, whatever we found it, would be certainly of all others the mojl agreeable to our Nature? We did. And have we not added, fmce
this, to ^the Weight of our Argument, by paffing from the Necejfary Arts to the Ele- gant; from the Elegant, to the Sciences? We have. The more, faid he,
we confider, the more fhall we be con- vinced, that All thefe, the nobleft* Honours and Ornaments of the Human Mind, with- out that Lcijure, that Experience, that Emu- lation,
A Dialog uf 155
htion, that Reward, which the Social State Parti. clone we know is able to provide them, could never have found Exiflen or been in the leaft recognized, Ind faid I, I believe not.
Let it not be forgot then, faid he, in favour of Society, that to it we owe, not only the Beginning and Continuation, but the Well-Being, and (if I may ufe the Ex- preffion) the very Elegance, and Rationality of cur Exiftence. I anfwered, It ap-
peared evident.
And what then, continued he?— If Society be thus agreeable to cur Nature, is there nothing, think you, within us, to ex- cite and lead us to it ? 'No Impulje, no Pre- paration of Faculties f It would be ftrange, anfwered I, if there mould not. 'Twould be a Angular Exception^ faid he, with refpedt to all other herding Species — Let us however examine — Pity, Benevolence, Friendfhip, Love -, the general Diflike of Solitude, and Defire of Com- pany 5
156 Concerning HAPPINESS,
)■ Part I. pany ; are tfhey Natural AffeBions, which
"""*"*""' come of themjelves -> or are they taught us by Art) like Muiic and Arithmetic ? I fhould think, replied I, they were Na- tural, becaufe in every Degree of Men fome Traces, of them may be difcovered. And are not the Powers and Capacities of Speech> faid he, the fame ? Are not all '. Men naturally formed, to exprefs their Sen- timents by fome kind of Language ? I re-» plied, They were.
If then, faid he, thefe feveral Powers, and Difpoftions are Natural, fo fhould feem too their Exercife, Admit it. And
if their Exercife, then fo too that State, where alone they can be exercifed. A&-
mit it. And what is this State, but the
Social? Or where elfe is it poffible to con- merfe, or ufe our Speech ; to exhibit Actions of Pity, Benevolence, Friendship or Love ; to relieve our Averfon to Solitude, or gratify our Defire of being with others? I re-
pliedj It could be no where elfe.
You
A Dialogue, i$j
You fee then, continued he, a Prepa- Parti. ration of Faculties is not wanting. We are - ^ r " fitted with Powers and Difpofitions, which have only Relation to Society ; and which, out of Society, can no where elfe be exercifed* I replied, It was evident. You have ken too the fuperior Advantages of the Social State, above all others. I have.
Let this then be remember'd, faid he, throughout all our future Reafonings, re- member'd as a firft Principle in our Ideas of Humanity, that Man by Nature is truly a Social Animal. I promifed it
fhould.
§. 13. Let us now, faid he, examine , what farther we can learn concerning Him* As Social indeed, He is diftinguifhed from the Solitary and Savage Species ; but in no degree from the reft, of a milder and more friendlyNzturc. 'Tis true, replied I, He is not. Does He then differ no more from
thefe
158 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part I. thefe feveral Social Species, than they, each
~ v """" - ' of them, differ from one another f Muft we
range them ally and Man among the reft,
under the fame common and general Genus ?
I fee no Foundation, faid I, for
making a Diftin&ion.
Perhaps, faid he, there may be none ; and 'tis poflible too there may. Confider a little — Do you not obferve in all other Species, a Similarity among Individuals ? a fiirprizing Likenefs, which runs thro' each Particular? In one Species they are all Bold; in another, all Timorous; in one all Ravenous; in another, all Gentle. In the Bird-kind only, what ^Uniformity of Voice y in each Species, as to their Notes ; of Ar- chitecture ' y as to building their Neftsj of Food y both for themfelves, and for fup- porting their Young ■? 'Tis true, faid I.
And do you obferve, continued he, the fame Similarity among Men ? Are thefe all as Uniform, as to their Sentiments and ASlions ? I replied, By no means.
One
A Dialogue. 159
Parti.
One Queflion more, faid he, as to the Character of Brutes, if I may be allowed the Expreffion — Are thefe, think you, what we behold them, by Nature or otherwife? Explain, faid I, your Queftion, for I do not well conceive you. I mean,
replied he, is it by Nature that the Swallow builds her Neft, and performs all the Offices of her Kind : Or is (he taught by Art, by Difcipline, or Cujiom ? She acts, re-
plied I, by pure Nature undoubtedly. And is not the fame true, faid he, of every other Bird and Beaft in the Univerfe ? It is. No wonder then, continued he, '
as they have fo wife a Governefs, that a uniform Rule of ABion is provided for each Species. For what can be more worthy the Wifdom of Nature, than ever* to the fame Subftances to give the fame Law ? It ap- pears, faid I, reafonable.
But what, continued he, fhall we fay as to Man ? Is He too actuated by Nature purely ? I anfwered, Why not ?
If
l6o Concerning H \ I N E S S,
iPart I. If He be, replied he *ange in Nature ',
_J '^ W that with refpedt to Afc« rz/i?;^, {he fhould follow fo different a Condudt* The Particu- lars in other Species, we agree* fhe renders Uniform y but in Our's, every Particular feems a fort of Model by himfelf If Nature,
faid I, do not a&uate us,. what can we fup- pofe elfe ? Ax t Local CuJloms y faid he, Na- ture ? Are the Polities and Religions of par- ticular Nations, Nature ? Are the Examples, which are fet before us; the Preceptors who inftruit us ; the Company and Friends, with whom we converfe, all Nature ? No furely, faid I. And yet, faid he,
'tis evident that by thefe, and a thoufand incidental Circumftances, equally foreign to Nature, our Adtions, and Manners, and Characters are adjufted. Who then can imagine, we are adtuated by Nature only ? I confefs, faid I, it appears con- trary.
You fee then, faid he, one remarkable DiflinBion between Man and Brutes in ge- neral — --In the Brute, Nature does all; in
Man,
^ Dialogue. 161
Man, but Part only. 'Tis evident, Partial
laid L "^^'
But farther, continued 'he — ■*- Let us confider the Powers-, of Faculties, poffeffed by each — -Suppofe I was willing to give a Brute the fame Bifiruttion, which we give a Mam A Parrot perhaps, or Ape, might arrive to fome fmall Degree of Mimicry ; but do you think, upon the whole, they would be much profited or altered? I replied, I thought not. And do you
perceive the fame, faid he, with relpedt to Man? Or does not Experience mew us the very reverfe ? Is not Education capable of
moulding us into any thing of making
us greatly Good, or greatly Bad-, greatly Wife, or greatly Abfurd? The Fad,
faid I, is indifputable.
Mark then, faid he, the Difference between Human Powers and Brutal — -The Leading Principle of Brutes appears to tend in each Species to onefingle Purpofe — to this^ in general, it uniformly arrives-, and here, M in
162 Concerning HAPflNESS,
] 3 art I. in general, it as uniformly fiops— At needs no
- ~* mm * J Precepts or Difcipline to instruct it ; nor
will it eafily be changed, or admit a 'diffe- rent Direction. On the contrary, the Lead- ing Principle of Man is capable of infinite Directions — •• is convertible to all forts of
Purpofes equal to all forts of Suhjefts -
neglected, remains ignorant, and void of every Perfection ——— cultivated, becomes adorned with Sciences and Arts^—czxi raife us to excel, not only Brutes, but our own Kind — with refpect to, our other Powers and Faculties, can inftrucl us how to ufe them, as well as thofe of the various Natures, which we fee exifting around us. In a word, to oppofe the two Principles to each
other The Leading Principle of Man, is
Multiform, Originally Uninjlrufted, Pliant and Docil — the Leading Principle of Brutes is Uniform, Originally InfirucJed ; but, in moft Inftances afterward, Inflexible and-
Indocil* Or does not Experience plainly
ihew, and confirm the Truth of what we aflert? I made anfwer> It did.
A Dialogue. 163
You allow, then, faid he, the Human PartL Principle, and the Brutal, to be things of different Idea. Undoubtedly. Do
they not each then deferve a different Ap- pellation ? I fhould think fo. Sup- pofe therefore we call the Human Principle Reason 5 and the Brutal, Instinct: would you object to the Terms ? I re- plied,^ I fhould not. If not, continued he, then Reafon being peculiar to Man, of all the Animals inhabiting this Earth, may we not affirm of Him, by way of Diftinc-* tion, that He is a Rational Animal? I replied.. We might juftly.
Let this too then be remember'd, faid he, in the Courfe of our Inquiry, that Man is by Nature a Rational Animal. I-promifed it fhould.
§. 14. In confequence of this, faid he, as
often as there is Occafion, I fhall appeal as
well to Reafon, as to Nature, for a Standard.
What, faid I, do you mean by Nature?
M 2 Its
j
164 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part I. Its Meanings, replied he, are many
" J ^ v ~"""^ and various. As it ftands at prefent Op- pofed, it may be enough perhaps to fay, that Nature is that, which is the Caufe of every things except thofe Things alone, which are the immediate EffeBs of Reafon. In other words, whatever is not Reafon, or the EffeB of Reafon, we would eonlider as Nature, or the EffeB of Nature. I an-
fwered, as he fo diftinguifhed them, I thought he might juffcly appeal to either.
And yet, continued he, there is a re- markable Difference between the Standard of Reafon, and that of Nature -, a Diffe- rence, which at no time we ought to for- get. What Difference, faid I, do you mean ? 'Tis this, anfwered he ^*— ■ In Nature, the Standard is fought from among the Many -, in Reafo?i, the Standard is fought from among the Few. You muft ex- plain, faid I, your Meaning, for I mull confefs you feem obfcure.
Thus
A Dialogue, 165
Thus then, faid he Suppofe, as an Parti.
Anatomift, you were feeking the Structure u
of fome internal Part To difcover this,
would you not infpect a Number of Indi- viduals ? I fhould. And would you not inform yourfeif, what had been dis- covered by others ? I fhould. And fuppofe, after all, you fhould find a MuU titude of Inftances for one Stru&ure, and a few Jingular for a different : by which would you be governed ? By the Mul- titude, faid I, undoubtedly. Thus then continued he, in Nature the Standard, you fee, exijis among the Many, I replied, It had fo appeared.
And what, faid he, were we to feek the Perfection of Sculpture, or of Paint- ing ? Where fhould we inquire then ? —
Among the numerous common Artifts, or among xk&few and celebrated ? Among, the Few, faid I. What if we were to
feek the Perfection of Poetry, or Oratory—- Where then ? Among the Few ftill.
M 3 What
Concerning HAPPINESS,
What if we were to feek the Per- fection of true Argument, or a found
Logic Where then ? Still among
the Few. And is not true Argument,
or a found Logic, one of Reafon's greateft Perfections ? It is. You fee then,
continued he, whence the Standard of
Reafon is to be fought 'Tis from among
the Few, as we faid before, in contradi- ftinction to the Standard of Nature. I confefs, faid I, it appears fo.
And happy, faid he, for us, that Provi- dence has fo ordered it happy for us, that
what is Rational, depends not on the Multi- tude ; or is to be tried by fo pitiful a Teft, as the bare counting of Nofes. 'Tis bappy,
faid I, indeed But whence pray the Dif- ference ? Why are the Many to determine in Nature, and the Few only, in Reafon ? To difcufs this at large, faid he, would require fome time. It might in- fenfibly perhaps draw us from our prefent Inquiry. I will endeavour to give you the Reafon, in as few words as poffible -, which fhould they chance to be obfcure, be not
too
A Dialogue.
too folicitous for an Explanation. I begged him to proceed his own way.
The Cafe, faidhe, appears to be this — In Natural Works and Natural Operations, we hold but one Efficient Caufe, and that confummately wife. This Caufe in every Species recognizing what is beft, and work- ing ever uniformly according to this Idea of Perfection, the Productions and Energies, in every Species where it ads, are for the moft ^zxt fimilar and exactly correfpondent* If an Exception ever happen, it is from fome hidden higher Motive > which tran- fcends our Compreheniion, and which is fctn fo rarely, as not to injure the general Rule, or render it doubtful and precarious* On the contrary, in the Productions and ^ Energies of Reafon, there is not one Caule but infinite — -as many indeed, as there are Agents of the Human Kind. Hence Truth being but one, and Error being infinite, and Agents infinite alfo : what wonder * they fhould oftener mifs, than hit the Mark ?— that Multitudes ihould fail, where one ale
M 4 {u&*
i68 Concerning HAPPINESS,
>artl. fucceeds, and Truth be only the Pofleffion of the chofen % fortunate Few? You
fecm to have explained the Difficulty, faid I, with Sufficient Perspicuity.
Let us then go back, faid he, and re- colled: ourfelves -, that we may not forget, what 'tis we are feeking. I replied, Moft willingly. We have been feek- ing, continued he, the Sovereign Good. In confequence of this Inquiry, we have dis- covered that all Things whatever exifl to
the Human Species in the Relations of either Purfuable, Avoidable, or Indifferent, To determine thefe Relations with Accuracy, we have been Scrutinizing the Human Nature ; and that, upon this known? Maxim, that every Species was its owm proper Standard \ and that where the Value- of Things was dubious, there the Species was to be jludied, and the Relations to be deduced, which naturally flow from it. The Refult of this Scrutiny has been — that we have firfl: agreed Man to be a Social Animal ; and fince^ to be a Rational So that if we
can
A Dialogue. 169
can be content with a defcriptive, concife Part I, Sketch of Human Nature •, it will amount u " - " v "" to this — that Man is a Social Ra-» tional Animal. I anfwered. It
had appeared (o.
§. 15. If then, faid he, we purfue our Difquifltions, agreeably to this Idea of Hu-r man Nature, it will follow that all Things will be Purfuable, Avoidable, and Indiffe- rent to Man, as they refped: the Being and Welfare of fuch a Social, Rational Animal I replied, They muft.
Nothing therefore in the firft place, feid he, can be Purfuable, which is de- JiruBive of Society. It cannot.
Ads therefore of Fraud and Rapine, and all acquired by them, whether Wealth, Power, Pleafure, or any thing, are evi- dently from their very Charafter not fit to be purfued. They are not.
But it is impoffible not to purfue many fuch things, unlefs we are furnifhed with Tome Habit or Difpofition of Mind, by
which
170 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part I. which we are induced to render to all Men ~** m ~ mJ their own> and to regard the Welfare, and Intereft of Society. : It is impoffible. But the Habit or Difpofition of ren- dering to all their own> and of regarding the Welfare and Intereft of Society, is Justice. It is. We may there-
fore fairly conclude, that Nothing is natu- rally Purjuabky but what is either correfpon- dent to Juflice, or at leaf not contrary. I confefs, faid I, fo it appears.
But farther, faid he — 'Tis poffible we may have the beft Difpofition to Society; the moft upright Intentions ; and yet thro' Want of Ability to difcern y and know the Nature of Particulars, we may purfue many things inconfiftent, as well with our Private Intereft, as the Public. We may even purfue what is Right y and yet purfue it in fuch a manner, as to find our Endea- v vours fruitlefs, and our Purpofes to fail. I anfwered, 'Twas poffible. But this would ill befit the Character of a Rational Animal. It would. It is
necef-
A Dialogue. 171
neceffary therefore, we mould be furniftied Part 1 with fome Habit or Faculty ', inftru&ing us ^-^^ how tQ difcern the real Difference of all Particulars, and fuggefting the proper Means, by which we may either -avoid or obtain them. It is. And what is
this, think you, but Prudence ? I believe, faid I, it can be no other. If it be, faid he, then 'tis evident from this Reafoning, that Nothing is purfuable, which is not correfpondent to Prudence. I replied, He had fhewn it could not.
But farther ftill, faid he — Tispoffible we may neither want Prudence, nor fujlice to direct us • and yet the Impulfes of Appe- tite, the Impetuofities of Refentment, the Charms and Allurements of a thoufand flat- tering Objects, may tempt us, in fpite of ourfelves, to purfue what is both Impru- dent, and Unjuft. They may. But if fo, 'tis neceffary, would we purfue as becomes our Character, that we fhould be furnimed with fome Habit, which may moderate our Exceffesy which may temper
our
172 Concerning HAPPINESS,
3 art I. our Actions to the Standard of a Social "~" v ~* J State, and to the Intereft and Welfare, not of a Part, but of the Whole Man. Nothing, faid I, more neceffary. And
1 what, faid he, can we call this Habit, but the Habit of Temperance ? You
name it, faid I, rightly. If you think
fo, replied he, then Nothing can be Pur- ftiable, which is not either correfpondent to Temperaitce, or at leaji not contrary. I replied, So it feemed.
Once more, continued he, and we have done— 'Tis poffible that not only Rejhitment and Appetite, not only the Charms and Al- lurements of external Objects, but the Ter- rors too, and Dread of them may marr the Refiitude of our Purpofes. 'Tis poffible.
Tyranny and Superftition may af- fail us on one hand ; the Apprehenfions of Ridicule, and a Falfe Shame on the other — ? Tis expedient, to withftand thefe, we mould be armed with fome Habit, or our wifeft beft Purfuits may elfe at all times be de-r feated. They may. And what is
that
J Dialogue 173
that generous, manlike and noble Habit ; Part ] which fets us at all times above Fear and ^ mm0 ^ m Danger -, what is it but Fortitude? I replied, It was no other. If fo
then, continued he, befides our former Conclufions, Nothing farther can be Pur- fuable, as our Inquiries now have fhewn us, which is not either correfpondent to For- titude, or at leaf not contrary \ I admit, faid I, it is not*
Observe then, faid he, the Sum, the Amount of our whole Reafoning — - No- thing is truly Purfuable tofuch an Animal as Man, except what is correfpondent, or at leaf not contrary, to Justice, Prudence, Temperance and Fortitude. I al-
low, faid I, it appears fo. But if no-
thing Purfuable, then nothing Avoidable or Indifferent, but what is tried and eftimated after the fame manner, For Contraries arc ever recognized thro 7 the fame Habit, one with another. The fame Logic judges of Truth and Falfhood; the fame Mufical Art, of Concord and Difcord. So the fame
Mental
174 Concerning HAPPINESS,
- art L Mental Habitudes y of Things Avoidable and
""*'*-' Purfuable. I replied, It appeared pro-
bable.
To how unexpected a Conclufion then, faid he, have our Inquiries infenfibly led
us ? In tracing the Source of Human
Action, we have eftablifhed it to be thofe Four Grand Virtues, which are efteemed, for their Importance, the very Hinges of all Morality. We have.
But if fo, it fhould follow, that a Life, whofe Purfuings and Avoidings are go- verned by thefe Virtues, is that True and Rational Life, which we have fo long been feeking , that Life, where the Value of all things is juflly meafured by thofe Rela- tions, which they bear to the Natural Frame and real Conjiitution of Mankind — in fewer Words, a Life of Virtue appears to be the Life according to Na- ture. It appears fo.
Bur
A Dialogue,
- 7$
But infuch a Life every Purfuit, every Part I, Avoiding, (to include all) every Adlion will of courfe admit of being rationally jujlified. It will. But That, which being
Done, admits of a Rational Jujlifcation, is the EfTence or genuine Character of an Office, or Moral Duty. . Forthuslong ago it has been defined by the beft * Au- thorities. Admit it. If fo, then a Life according to Virtue, is a Life according to Moras, Offices or Duties. It appears fo. But we have already agreed it, to be a Life according to Nature. We have. Obferve then: A Life ac- cording to Virtue, according to Moral Offices, and accord- ing to Nature, mean all the same Thing, tho* varied in the Ex- preffion. Your Remark, faidl, feems juft.
S- 15.
- B y Tally in his Offices, and by other Authors
of Antiquity,
176 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part L §. 1 6. We need never therefore,- re- plied he, be at a lofs how to chufe, tho' the Objedts of Choice be ever fo infinite and diverfifkd* As far as nothing is in- confijient with fuch a Life and fuch a Cha*- rafter > we may juftly fet Exiftence before Death , prefer Health to Sicknefs , Inte- grity of the Limbs, to being maimed and debilitated y Pleafure to Pain ; Wealth to Poverty; Fame to Dishonour; Free G Go- vernment to Slavery; Power and Magi- ftracy, to Subje&ion and a private State—— Univerfally, whatever tends either to Being, or to Well-Being, we may be juftified, when we prefer to whatever appears the con- trary. And when our feveral Energies, exerted according to the Virtues above, have put us in Poffeffion of all that we require : what then can there be wanting to complete our Happinefs - y to render our State perfectly confonant to Nature , or to give us a more Sovereign Good, than that which we now enjoy ? Nothing, re-
plied I, that I can at prefent think of.
There
^Dialogue.
l 79
- .Y w 1
There would be nothing indeed, faid\ ^ J -/
he, were our Energies never to fail; were all our Endeavours to be ever crowned with
due Succefs. But fuppofe the contrary
Suppofe the worfi Succefs to the mojl upT right Conduct ; to the wifeft Rectitude of Energies and A&ions. 'Tis poffible, nay Experience teaches us 'tis too often fad:, that not only the Purfuers of what is con- trary to Nature^ but that thofe who purfue nothing but what is JlriBly congruous to if % may mifs of their Aims^ and be frujirated in their Endeavours. Inquifitors and Monks may detefl them for their Virtue, and purfue them with all the Engines of Malice and Inhumanity. Without thefe, Pefts may affiid: their Bodies; Inunda- tions o'erwhelm their Property; or what is worfe than Inundations, either Ty- rants, Pirates, Heroes, or Banditti. They may fee their Country fall, and with it their braveft Countrymen; themfelves pillaged, and reduced to Extremities, or N periihing
/
78 Concerning HAPPINESS,
I Part I. perifhing with the reft in the general Maffacre.
• — * cadit & RipheuSyjuJliJJimus unus Quifuit in Teucris, & fervantiflimus cequi*
It muft be owned, faidl, this has too often been the Cafe.
Or grant* continued he, that thefe greater Events never happen— —that the Part allotted us, be not in the Tragedy of Life, but in the Comedy. Even the Comic
Dijirejfes are abundantly irkfome -**
Domeftic Jars y the ill Offices of Neigh- bours Suipicions, Jealoufies, Schemes
defeated — —The Folly of Fools $ the Knavery of Knaves ; from which, as Mem- bers of Society, 'tis impoflible to detach ourfelves.
Where
•^^NEID, 1. 2. V. 426.
A Dialogue.' 179
i
Where then fliall we turn, or what Part I.' have we to imagine ? We have at length placed Happiness, after much Inquiry, in attaining the primary andjujl Requifites of our Nature > by a ConduB fuitable to Virtue and Moral Office. But as to correfponding with our P re-conceptions (which we have made the Teft) does this Syftem corf efpond better^ than thofe other s, which we have rejected ? Has it not appeared from various Facts* too obvious to be difputed, that in many 'times and Places it may be abfolutely unattainable ? That in many* where it exifts, it may in a moment be cancelled, and put irretrievably out of our Power, by Events not to be reji/fed? If this be certain, and I fear it cannot be queftioned, our fpecious long Inquiry, however accurate we may believe it, has not been able to mew us a Good, of that Character which we require ; a Good Durable, Indepri*. vable, and Accommodate to every Circum-
Jlance — -Far from it Our Speculations
N 2 (I
1 80 Concerning HAPPINESS,
'art I. (I think) rather lead us to that low Opinion '^^ of Happinefs, which you may remember you * expreffed, when we firft began the Subject. They rather help to prove to us, that inftead of a Sovereign Good, 'tis the more probable Sentiment, there is no fuch Good at all. I fhould indeed, faid I,
fear fo. For where, continued he,
lies the Difference, whether we purfue what is congruous to Nature, or not con- gruous ; if the Acquifition of one be as dif- ficult, as of the other, and the PoJJejJion of both equally doubtful and precarious? If Qzjar fall, in attempting his Country's Ruin ; and Brutus fare no better, who only fought in its Defence ? It muft be
owned, faid I, thefe are melancholy Truths, and the Inftances, which you alledge, too well confirm them r
We were in the midft of thefe ferious Thoughts, defcanting upon the Hardfhips
and
T il " ■ • I ■ ■«.!■■ " I ■■ . -I
f See p. in.
-4 Dialogue. 181
and Miferies of Life, when by an Inci- Part I dent, not worth relating, our Speculations ' ***** were interrupted. Nothing at the time, I thought, could have happened more un- luckily our Queftion perplexed its
Iffue uncertain and myfelf impatient to
know the Event. Neceffity however was not to be refifted, and thus for the prefent pur Inquiries were poftponed.
N i CON-
CONCERNING
HAPPINESS,
DIALOGUE,
PART the Second.
BRUTUS perijhed untimely, and 'Part II Caefar did no more — Thefe Words w •v* ,, " ,, I was repeating the next day to myfelf, when my Friend appeared, and chearfully bade me Good-Morrow. I could not return his Compliment with an equal Gaiety, being intent, fomewhat more than ufual, on what had paffed the day before. Seeing this, he propofed a Walk into the Fields. The Face of Nature, faid he, will perhaps difpel thefe Glooms, No Affiftance, on my part, {hall be wanting, N 4 you
184 Concerning HAPPINESS,
art II. you may be allured. I accepted his Pro- ""*"*" pofal ; the Walk began ; and our former Converfation infenfibiy renewed.
Brutus, faid he, perijhed untimely r , and Csefat 'did no more 'Twas thus, as I re- member, not long fince you were expref- fing yourfelf. And yet fuppofe their For- tunes to have been, exactly parallel-
Which v/ould you have preferred ? Would you have been Ccefar or Brutus ? Brutus, replied I, beyond all controverfy. He aiked me, Why ? Where was the Dif- ference, when their Fortunes, as we now . iiipp -led them, were confidered as the fame f There feems, faid I, abflraft from kirns Fortunes, fomething, I know not what, imrinfically preferable in the Life and Cha- racter of Brutus. If that, faid he, be true, then muft we derive it, not from the Succefs of hi3 Endeavours, but from their Truth and Rectitude, fie had the Comfort to be confeious, that his Caufe was a juft pne. 'Twas impoffible the other fhould
have
A Dialogue. 185
have any fuch Feeling. I believe, Part II
faid I, you have explained it.
Suppose then, continued he, ('tis but merely an Hypothefis) fuppofe, I fay, we were to place the Sovereign Good in fuch
a Rectitude of Conduct in the Conduct
merely r , and not in the Event. Suppofe we were to fix our Happiness, not in the- actual Attainment of that Health, that Per- fection of a Social State, that fortunate Concurrence of Externals, which is con- gruous to our Nature, and which we have a Right all to purfue -> but folely fix it in the mere Doing whatever is correfpondent to fuch an End, even tho' we never attain, or are near attaining it. In fewer words — What if we make our Natural State the Stafidard only to determine our Conduct ; and place our Happinefs in the Rectitude of this
Conduct alone? On fuch an Hypothefis
(and we confider it as nothing farther) we Ihould not want a Good perhaps, to cor- refpond to our P re-conceptions -, for this, 'tis evident, would be correfpondent to them
all
t86 Concerning HAPPINESS,
irt II. all Your Doctrine, replied I, is fo
" v '"**'new and ftrange, that tho' you been copi- ous in explaining, I can hardly yet com- prehend you,
It amounts all, faid he, but to this
Place your Happinefs, where your Praife is. I afked, Where he fuppofed
that ? Not, replied he, in the Plea-
fores which you feel, more than your Difgrace lies in die Pain-r- — not in the cafual Prosperity of Fortune, more than your Difgrace in the cafual Adverfity— — but in juji complete Action throughout every Part of Life, what ever be the Face of Things^ whether favourable or the con-* trary.
But why then, faid I, fiich Accuracy about Externals ? So much Pains to be in- formed, what are Purfuable y what Avoids able ? It behoves the Pilot, replied he,
to know the Seas and the Winds; the Nature of Tempefts, Calms and Tides. They are the Subjects, about which his Art
is
A Dialogue. 187
is converfant. Without a juft Experience Part II, of them, he can never prove himfelf an Artift. Yet we look not for his Reputa-. tion either in fair Gales, or in adverfey but in the Skilfulnefs of his ConduB> be thefe Events as they happen. In like manner fares it with this the Moral Artift. He, for
a SubjeB, has the Whole of Human Life
Health and Sicknefs - y Pleafure and Pain ; with every qther poffible Incident, which can befal him during his Exiftence. If his Knowledge pf all thefe be accurate and exadt, fo too muft his Condudt, in which we place his Happinefs. But if this Know- ledge be defective, muft not his ConduEl be defe&ive alfo ? I replied, So it fhould
feem. And if his Conduct, then his
Happinefs ? ? Tis true.
You fee then, continued he, eventho* Externals were as nothing ; tho' 'twas true, in their own Nature, they were neither Good nor Evil; yet an accurate Knowledge pf them is, from our Hypothefis, abfolutely
necejfary.
188 Concerning HAPPINESS,
art II. necejfary. Indeed, faid I, you have
mmvmmm/ proved it.
He continued^ — Inferior Artifts may be at a fiand, becaufe they want Materials. From their Stubbornefs and IntraB ability^ they may often be difappointed. But as long as Life is paffing, and Nature con- tinues to operate, the Moral Artijl of Life has at all times, all he defires. He can never want a Subject fit to exercife him in his proper Calling; and that, with this happy Motive to the Conftancy of his Endeavours, that, the croffer, the harfher, the more untoward the Events, the greater his Praife, the more illuflrious his Repu* fation.
All this, faid I, is true, and cannot be denied. But one Circumftance there ap- pears, where your Similes feem to fail. The Praife indeed of the Pilot we all6w to be in his ConduB -, but 'tis in the Succefs of that Conduct, where we look for his Mapfinefs* If a Storm arife, and the Ship
be
A Dialogue, 189
be loft, we call him not happy, how well Part II foever he may have conducted. 'Tis then ^—v-"- only we congratulate him, when he has reached the defired Haven. Your
Diftin&ion, faid he, is juft. And 'tis here lies the noble Prerogative of Moral Artifts y
above all others But yet I know not how
to explain myfelf, I fear my Do&rine will appear fo ftrange. You may proceed,
faid I fafely, fince you advance it but as an Hypothecs.
Thus then, continued he— —The End in others Arts is ever dijlant and removed.. It confiits not in the mere Conduct, much lefs in a Jingle Energy ; but is the jujl Re- fult of many Energies, each of which are efTential to it. Hence, by Obftacles un- avoidable, it may often be retarded: Nay . more, may be fo embaraffed, as never pof- fibly to be attained. But in the Moral Art of Life, the very Conduct is the End, the very ConduB, I fay, itfelf, throughout every its minuteft Energy $ becaufe each of thefe, however minute, partake as truly of
ReBitude %
tgb Concerning HAPPINESS*
- art II. Re5iitude> as the largejl Combination of them ■>
if ^ rmJ when conlidered collectively. Hence of all Arts is this the only one perpetually complete in every Inftant, becaufe it needs not, like other Arts* Time to arrive at that Perfection, at which in every Infant 'tis arrived already. Hence by Duration it is not rendered either more or lefs perfedtj Completion^ like Truth, admitting of no Degrees, and being in no feftife capable of either Intenjion or Remijfion. And hence too by neceflary Connection (which is a greater Paradox than all) even that Happi^ nefs or Sovereign Good, the End of this Moral Art, is itfelf too~ in every Injlant) Confammate and Complete ; is neither heigh-* tened or diminijhed by the Quantity of its Duration^ but is the fame to its Enjoyers, for a Moment or a Century.
Upon this I fmiled. He afked me
the Reafon. 'Tis only to obferve, faid I, the Courfe of our Inquiries* — A new Hy- pothefis has been advanced — — -Appearing fomewhat ftrange, it is defired to be ex- plained—-
A Dialogue. 19I
plained You comply with the Requeft, Parti
and, in purfuit of the Explanation, make mm<m it ten times more obfcure and unintelligible, than before. 'Tis but too often the
Fate, faid he, of us Commentators. But you know in fuch cafes what is ufually done. When the Comment will not ex- plain the Text, we try whether the Text will not explain itfelf. This Method, 'tis poflible, may affift us here. The Hypo- thecs, which we would have illuftrated* was no more than this- — -That the Save* reign Good lay in Refiitude of ConduB -, and that this Good corresponded to all our Pre** conceptions. Let r : examine then, whether, upon trial, this Correfpondence will appear to holdj and, for all that we have advanced fince, fuffer it to pafs, and not perplex us* Agreed, faid I, willingly, for now 1 hope to comprehend you.
§. 2. Recollect then, faid he. Do you not remember that one Pre-conception of the Sovereign Good was, to be accommodate to all Times and Places 2 I remember it.
And
ig2 Concerning HAPPINESS,
trt II. And is there any Time, or any Place,
w ^ mmmJ whence ReBitude of Conduct may be ex- cluded? Is there not a right Adtion in Profperity, a right Aftion in Adverfity ? — May there not be a decent, generous, and laudable Behaviour, not only in Peace, in Power, and in Health; but in War, in Oppreffion, in Sicknefs and in Death ? There may.
And what fhall we fay tothofe other Pre-conceptiom to being Durable, Self- derived, and Indeprivable ? Can there be any Good fo Durable, as the Power of al- ways doing right ? Is there any Good con- ceiveable, fo intirely beyond the Power of others ? Or, if you hefitate, and are doubt- ful, I would willingly be informed, into what Circumftances may Fortune throw a brave and honeft Man, where it fhall not be in his Powerto adl bravely and honejlly ? Jf there are no fuch, then Retfitude of Con- due}, if a Good, is a Good Indeprivable. I confefs, faid I 5 it-appears fo.
But
ii Dialogue, 19;
But farther, faid he- — Another Pre- Part] conception of the Sovereign Good was, to be v / "" Agreeable to Nature. It was. And
can any thing be more agreeable to a Rational and Social Animal^ than Rational and Social Conduct f Nothing. But
Reclitude of Conduct is with us Rational and Social Conduct. It is*
Once more* continued he— —Another Pre-conception of this Good was, to be Con* ducive,, not to Mere-being, but to Well- being. Admit it* And can any thing, believe you, conduce fo probably to the Well-being of a Rational Social Animal, as the right Exercife of that Reafon, and of thofe Social Affections ? Nothing. And what is this fame Exercife, but the highejl Rectitude of Conduct ? Certainly.
§. 3. You fee then, faid he, how well our Hypothefis, being once admitted, tal- lies with our Original Pre-conceptions of the Sovereign Good. J replied, it in-
O deed
194 Concerning HAPPINESS,
art II. deed appeared fo, and could not be denied* " -v ^" - 'But who, think you*, ever dreamt of a Happinefs like this ? A Happinefs depen- dent, not on the Succefs, but on the Aim ? Even common and ordinary Life, replied he 3 can furnifh us with Examples. Afk of the Sportfman where lies his En- joyment ? Afk whether it be in the Pof- fejjion of a flaughter'd Hare, or Fox ? He would rejed:, with Contempt, the very
Suppofition He would tell you, as well
as he was able, that the Joy was in the Purfuit in the Difficulties which are ob- viated -, in the Faults, which are retrieved; in the ConduB and Dire&ion of the Chace
thro' all its Parts that the Completion of
their Endeavours was fo far from giving them Joy, that inftantly at that Period all their Joy was at an end. For Sportf-
men, replied I, this may be no bad Rea- foning. It is not the Sentiment, faid he, of Sportfmen alone. The Man of Gal- lantry not unoften has been found to think after the fame manner,
— Meus
A Dialogue. 195
- Meus ejl amor huic Jimilis ; nam Part II*
Tranfuolat in medio pofita, &fugientia capiat.
To thcfe we may add the Tribe of Buil- ders and Projectors. Or has not your own Experience informed you of Numbers, who, in the Building and Laying-out, have expreffed the higheft Delight 3 but fhewn the utmoft Indifference to the Refult of their Labours, to the Manfion or Gardens, when once finifhed and complete ?
The Truth, faid I, of theft Examples is not to be difputed. But I could wifh your Hypothefis had better than thefe to fupport it. In the ferious View of Happi- nefs y do you ever imagine there were any, who could fix it (as we faid before) not on the Succefs, but on the Aim? More, even in this light, faid he, than perhaps at firft you may imagine. There are Inftances innumerable of Men, bad as well as good, who having fixed, as their Aim, a certain CcnduB of their own, have O 2 fo
- Hor. Sat. II. L.i. v. 107.
196 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part II. fo far attached their Welfare and Happinefe to it, as to deem all Events in its Profecu- tion, whether fortunate or unfortunate, to be mean, contemptible, and not worthy their Regard. I called on him for Examples,
What think you, faid he, of the A£- faffin, who flew the firft Prince of Orange $ and who, tho' brought by his Conduct to the moft exquifite Tortures, yet confcious of what he had done, could bear them all unmoved ? Or (if you will have a better Man) what think you of that fturdy Roman, who would have difpatched Porfenna ; and who, full of his Defign, and fuperior to all Events, could thruft a Hand into the Flames with the fteadieft Intrepidity ? I replied, That thefe indeed were very un- common Inftances.
Attend too, continued he, tojEpi- curus dying, the Founder of a Philofophy,
little favouring of Enthufiafm " This I
<c write you (fays he, in one of his Epiftles)
- c while the loft Day of Life is paj/ing, and
- ,^ ' ' - / , -t i i^f ij^ji^ f- 4J thai
^Dialogue.
u that a Happy One. The Pai " my Body are ?iot capable of I cc tened. Yet to thefe we oppofe " the Soul, which arifes from t)
<c of our paft Speculations •" 1
confonant to this, in another PL
ing, that a Rational Adverjity u ter
than an Irrational Profperity.
And what think you ? Had he not
placed his Good and Happinefs in the fup- pofed ReBitude of his Opinions, would he not have preferred Profperity, at all rates, to Adverfty ? Would not the Pains, of which he died, have made his Happinefs
perfect Mifery ? And yet, you fee, he
difowns any fuch thing. The Memory of his paft Life, and of his Philofophical In- ventions were, even in the Hour of Death it feems, a Counterpoife to fupport him. It muft be owned, faid I, that you appear to reafon juftly. t
Pass from Epicurus, continued he, to
Socrates. What are the Sentiments of that
O 3 divine
i 9 3 Concerning HAPPINESS,
art II. divine Man, fpeaking of his own unjuft
'~ sr ~ mmJ Condemnation ? " Crito, fays he, if it
cc be pleafng to the Gods this way, then be
" it this way" And again " Anytus
" and Melitus, I grant, can kill me-, but " to hurt or injure me, is beyond their " Power" It would not have been be- yond it, had he thought his Welfare de- pendent on any thing they could do ; for
they were then doing their worft«*
Whence then was it beyond them?
Becaufe his Happinefs was derived not from without, but from within ; not from the Succefs, which perhaps was due to the Reditude of his Life, but from that Recti- tude alone, every other thing difregarded. He had not, it feems, fo far renounced his own Doctrine, as not to remember his
former Words ; that " To whom ever
<c all things, conducive to Happinefs, are de- < c rived folely, or at leaf nearly from him- " f e tf> an d depend not on the Welfare or " Adverfty of others, from the Variety of " whofe Condition his own mujl vary alfo : iC He it is, who has prepared to himfelf the
" mojl
A Dialogue. 199
" mojl excellent of all Lives He it is> who Part II
" is the Temperate, the Prudent , and the u
" Brave- He it is y who, when Wealth or
" Children either come or are taken away,
" will bejl obey the Wife Man's Precept
<c For neither will he be feen to grieve, nor cc to rejoice in excefs, from the Trujl and cc Confidence which he has repofedin himfelfi" — -You Ijave j. §ketch_at_leaft of his Mean- ing, tho' far below jjis own Attic and truly elegant Expreffioiu I grant, faid I,
your Example ; but this and the reft are but fingle Inftances. What are three or four in Number, to the whole of Hu- man Kind ?
If you are for Numbers, replied he ? what think you of the numerous Race of Patriots, in all Ages and Nations, who have, joyfully met -Death, rather than defert their Country, when in danger ? They muft have thought furely on another Happinefs than Succefs, when they could gladly go, where they faw Death often inevitable. Qr what think you of the many Martyrs O 4 for
200 Concerning HAPPINESS,
^art II. for Syftems wrong as well as right, who
- " Nr "" have dared defy the worft, rather than
fwerve from their Belief? You have
brought indeed, faid I, more Examples
than could have been imagined.
Besides, continued he, what is that Comfort of a Good Conscience, cele- brated to fuch a height in the Religion which we profefs, but the Joy ariiing from a Confcience of right Energies-, a Con- fcience of having done nothing, but what is confonant to our Duty ? I replied,
It indeed appeared fo.
Even the Vulgar, continued he, re- cognize a Good of this very Character, when they fay of an Undertaking, tho' it fucceed not, that they are contented; that they have done their bejl, and can accufe themfelves of nothing. For what is this, but placing their Content, their Good, their Happinefs y not in the Succefs of Endeavours, but in the ReBitude? If it be not the Redtitude which contents them, you muft
tell
A Dialogue. 201
tell me what 'tis elfe. It appears, Part II.
replied I, to be that alone.
I hope then, continued he, that tho' you accede not to this Notion of Happinefs, which I advance; you will at leaft allow it not to be fuch a Paradox, as at firft you feemed to imagine. That
indeed, replied I, cannot be denied you.
§. 4. Granting me this, faid he, you encourage me to explain myfelf — We have fuppofed the Sovereign Good to lie in Recti- tude of Conduct. We have. And
think you there can be Redlitude of Con- dud:, if we do not live conjijlently ? In what Senfe, faid I, would you be un- derstood? To live conjijlently , faid he, is the fame with me, as To live agreeably to fome one Jingle and confonant Scheme^ or Pur- pofe. Undoubtedly, faid I, without this, there can be no RecSitude of Conduct. All Rectitude of Conduct then, you fay, implies fuch Confijlence. It does.
And does all Confidence, think you, imply
fuch
202 Concerning HAPPINESS,
iPartll.fuch ReBitude? I afked him, Why
■J""*"* - — ' not ? 'Tis poffible, indeed it may,
faid fie, for aught we have difcovered yet to the contrary, But what if it fliould be found that there may be numberlefs Schemes, each in particular conftftent with itfelf, but yet all of them different, and fome perhaps contrary ? There may, you know, be a conftftent Life of Knavery, as well as a conftftent Life of Honefty ; there may be a uniform Practice of Luxury, as well as of Temperance, and Abfterniouf- nefs. Will the Confiftence, common to all ofthefe Lives , render the Conduffi in each, right ? It appears, faid I, an Abfur-
dity, that there ihould be the fame Recti- tude in two Contraries. If fo, faid he, we muft look for fomething more than mere Confiftence, when we fearch for that ReBitude, which we at prefent talk of. A conftftent Life indeed is requifite, but that alone is not enough. We muft de-* termine its peculiar Species, if we would be accurate and exafl:. It indeed ap«?
pears, faid I, neceffary,
Nor
A Dialogue. 203
Nor is anything, continued' he, more Part II. eafy to be difcuffed. For what can that peculiar Conjijlence of Life be elfe, than a Life, whofe feveral Parts are not only con- fonant to each other, but to the Nature alfo of the Being, by whom that Life has been adopted ? Does not this laft De- gree of Confiftence appear as requifite as the former? I anfwered, It could not
be otherwife,
You fee then, faid he, the true Idea of right Conduft. It is not, merely To live conjijlently ; but 'tis To live conjijlently with Nature, Allow it.
But what, continued he ? Can we live conjijlently with Nature, and be at a lofs how to behave ourfelves ? We cannot.
And can we know how to behave ourfelves, if we know nothing of what befals us-, nothing of thofe ThingS and Events, which perpetually furround, and affeft us ? We cannot, You fee
then,
204 Concerning HAPPINESS,
"Part II. then, continued he, how we are again fallen infenfibly into that Do&rine, which proves the Neceffity of fcrutinizing, and knowing the Value of Externals. I re-
plied, 'Twas true. If you affent, faid he, to this, it will of courfe follow, that, To live confidently with Nature, is y To live agreeably to ajujl Experience ofthofe Things, which happen around us. It appears fo.
But farther ftill, faid he. — Think you any one can be deemed to live agreeably to fuch Experience, if he feledl not, as far as poffible, the things moft congruous to his Nature f He cannot. And by the fame Rule, as far as poffible, muft he not rejeB fuch as are contrary? He
muft. And that not occafionally, as
Fancy happens to prompt , but fteadily, conjiantly, and without Remiffion. I fhould imagine fo. You judge, faid
he, truly. Were he to acft otherwife in the leaft inftance,, he would falfify his Profeffions y he would not live according to that Experience, which we now fup-
pofe
A Dialogue. 20 j
pofe him to poffefs. I replied, He Part II
would not. v— v—
It fhould feem then, faid he, from hence, as a natural Confequence of what we have admitted, that the EJfence of right Conduct lay in Selection and Rejection. So, faid I, it has ap-
peared. And that fuch Selection and
Rejection fhould be confonant with our pro- per Nature. 'Tis true. And be Jieady and perpetual, not occafional and in- terrupted. 'Tis true. But if this be the EfTence of Right ConduB, then too it is the Effence of our Sovereign Good, for in fuch Conduct we have fuppofed this Good to confift. We have.
See then, faid he, the Refult of our
Inquiry. The Sovereign Good, as
conftituted by ReBitude ofConducJ> has, on our ftri&eft Scrutiny, appeared to be this — ■ To live perpetually selecting, as far as possible, what is congruous to Nature, and rejecting what is
con-
sc6 - Concerning H A P P I N E S S,
Part II. CONTRARY, MAKING OUR END THAI 1
Selecting and that Rejecting only, 'Tis true, faid I, fo it appears.
§.5. Before we haften then farther, faid he, let us flop to recolledt, and fee whether our prefe.nt Concluiions accord with our former. — We have now fuppofed the Sovereign Good to be Rectitude of Con- duct, and this ConduSl we have made con- lift: in a certain Selecting and RejecJmg. We have. And do you not imagine
that the Selecting and Rejecting, which we propofe, as they are purely governed by the Standard of Nature, are capable in every inftance of being rationally justified?
I replied, I thought they were. But if they admit a rational Juftifcation, then are they Moral Offices or Duties >, for thus * you remember yefterday a Moral Office was defined. It was. But
if fo, To live in the Practice of them, will
be
- Sup. p. 175,
A Dialogue. 207
be To live in the Difcharge of Moral Offices. Part II.
It will. But To live in the Dif-
charge of thefe, is the fame as Living ac- cording to Virtue, and Living according to Nature. It is. So therefore is
Living in that Selection, and in that Rejec- tion, which we propofe. It is.
We need never therefore be at a lofs, faid he, for a Defcription of the Sove- reign Good. We may call it, Rec- titude of Conduct. If that he too
contracted, we may enlarge and fay, 'tis— To live perpetually Selecting and Rejecting according to the Stan- dard of our Being.— If we are for ftill different Views, we may fay 'tis . To live in the Discharge of Mo- ral Offices — To live according to
Nature To live according to
Virtue To live according to
Just Experience of those Things,
which happen around us. Like
fome finifhed Statue, we may behold it every way; 'tis the fame Objedr, tho'
varioufly
2o8 Concerning HAPPINESS,
J Part II. varioufly viewed ; nor is there a View, 1 *-"~~^~ m - J b u t is natural, truly graceful, and en- gaging.
§.6. I cannot deny, faid I, but that as you have now explained it, your Hypothefis feems far more plaufible, than when firft it was propofed. You will
believe it, faid he, more fo ftill, by con-
fidering it with more Attention. In the
firft place, tho' perhaps it efteem nothing really Good but Virtue, nothing really Evil, but Vice, yet it in no manner takes away the Difference^ and Diftintlion of other Things. So far otherwife, it is for eftabliihing their Diftindcion to the greateft Accuracy. For were this neglect- ed, what would become of Selection and Rejetfion, thofe important Energies, which are its very Soul and EfTence ? Were there no Difference, there could be no Choice* 'Tis true, faid I, there could not.
Again, faid he. It is no meagre, mor- tifying Syftem of Self-denial — It fuppreffes
no
^Dialogue. 209
no Social and Natural Affections, nor takes Part II. , away any Social and Natural Relations-— It prefcribes no Abftainings, no Forbear- ances out of Nature - y no gloomy, fad, and lonely Rules of Life, without which 'tis evident Men may be as honeft as withy and be infinitely more ufefiil and worthy
Members of Society. It refufes no Plea-
fure, not inconfiftent with Temperance
It reje&s no Gain, not inconfiftent with
Juftice Univerfally, as far as Virtue
neither forbids nor dijfuades, it endeavours to render Life, even in the moji vulgar Acceptation, as chearful, joyous, and eafy as poffible. Nay, could it mend the Condi- tion of Exiftence in any the moji trivial Cir- cumftance, even by adding to the amplefl Pofleffions the pooreft meaneft Utenfil, it would in no degree contemn an Addition
even fo mean. Far otherwife It would*
confider, that to negledt the leaft Acqui- fition, when fairly in its power, would be to fall fhort of that perfedl and accurate Condu5l y which it ever has in view, and on which alone all depends,
P And
2io Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part II. And yet, tho* thus exa& in every the minuteft Circumftance, it gives us no Soli- citude as to what Rank we maintain in Life. Whether noble or ignoble, wealthy or poor 5 whether merged in Bufinefs, or confined to Inactivity, it is equally confident with every Condition, and equally capable of adorning them all. Could it indeed choofe its own Life, it would be always that, where moft focial Affections might exteniively be exerted, and moft done to contribute to the Welfare of Society. But if Fate order otherwife, and this be de- nied ; its Intentions are the fame, its En- deavours are not wanting; nor are the Social, Rational Powers forgotten, even in Times and Circumftances, where they can leaft become confpicuous.
It teaches us to confider Life, as one great important Drama, where we have each our Part allotted us to aft. It tells us that our Happinefs, as Aviors in this Drama, conlifts not in the Length of our
Part,
A Dialogue. >2ii
Part, nor in the State and Dignity, but in Part IT. the j uji, the decent, and the natural Per- formance.
If its Aims are fuccefsful, it is thankful to Providence. It accepts all the Joys, de- rived from their Succefs, and feels them as fully, as thofe who know no other Happi- nefs. The only Difference is, that having a more excellent Good in view, it fixes not, like the Many, its Happinefs on Succefs alone, well knowing that in fuch cafe, if Endeavours fail, there can be nothing left behind but Murmurings and Mifery. On the contrary, when this happens, 'tis then it retires into itfelf, and reflecting on what is Fair, what is Laudable and Honejl (the truly beatific Vifion, not of mad Enthujiajls, but of the Calm, the Temperate, the Wife and the Good) it becomes fuperiour to all Events; it acquiefces in the Confcioufnefs of its own Rectitude -, and, like that Manfion founded, not on the Sands, but on the Rock, it defies all the Terrors of Tempeft and Inundation.
P 2 §. 7 .
212 Concerning HAPPINESS,
§.7. Here he paufed, and I took the Opportunity to obferve, how his Subjeft had warmed him into a degree of Rap- ture , how greatly it had raifed both his Sentiments and his Stile. No wonder, faid he. Beauty of every kind excites our Love and Admiration; the Beauties of Art, whether Energies or Works -, the Beauties of Nature, whether Animal or Inanimate. And fliall we expedl lefs from this Supreme Beauty ; this morale meiital, and original Beauty - y of which all the reft are but as Types or Copies? Not how- ever by high Flights to lofe Sight of our Subject, the whole of what we have ar- gued, may be reduced to this—
All Men pursue Good, and would be happy, if they knew how; not happy for Minutes, and miferable for Hours, but happy, if poffible, thro 1 every Part of their Exijience. Either therefore there is a Good of this Jieady durable Kind, or there is none. If none, then all Good muft be
tranfient
7f Dialogue. 217
tranjient and uncertain ; and if fo, an Ob- Part II j je£i of loweji Value, which can little de- v "" nr " ferve either our Attention, or Inquiry. But if there be a better Good, fuch a Good as we are feeking -, like every other thing, it mufi be derived from fome Caufe - y and that Caufe muft be either external, internal, or mixt, in as much as except thefe three, there is no other poffible. Now ajleady, durable Good, cannot be derived from an external Caufe, by reafon all derived from Externals muft fluctuate, as they fluctuate. By the fame Rule, not from a Mixture of the Two -, becaufe the Part which is external will proportionally dejlroy its EJfence. What then remains but the Caufe internal-, the very Caufe which we have fuppofed, when we place the Sovereign Good in Mind-, in Rectitude of ConduB; in juft Selecting and Rejecting? There feems indeed no
other Caufe, faid I, to which we can pof- fibly affign it.
Forgive me then, continued he,
^ould I appear to boaft We have
P 3 proved,
214 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part II. proved, or at leaft there is an Appearance ^^we have proved, that, either there is no Good except this of our own ; or that, if there be any other \ 'tis not worthy our Re- gard. It muft be confeffed, faid I, you have faid as much, as the Subjeft feems to admit,
§,8. By means then, faid he, of our Hypothefis, behold one of the faireft, and moft amiable of Objedts, behold the true and perfect Man : that Or- nament of Humanity ; that Godlike Being ; who, without regard either to Pleafure or Pain y uninfluenced equally by either Projpe- rity or Adverfty, fuperiour to the World and its bejl and worfl Events, can fairly reft his All upon the RecJitude of his own Conducl ; can conftantly, and uniformly, and manfully maintain it ; thinking that, and that alone \ wholly fufficient to make him happy.
And do you ferioufly believe, faid I, there ever was fuch a Character ? And
what, replied he, if I fhould admit, them
never
A Dialogue. ai£
never was, is, or will befuch a Character ? — Part II that we have been talking the whole time of a Being, not to be found ;
Afaultlef$MonJler,which the World ' ne'er faw?
Suppofing, I fay, we admit this, what then? Would not your Syftem in fuch a cafe, faid I, a little border upon the chimerical ? I only afk the Queftion. You need
not be fo tender, he replied, in expreffing yourfelf. If it be falfe, if it will not in- dure the Teft, I am as ready to give it up, as I have been to defend it. He muft be a poor Philofopher indeed, who, when he fees Truth and a Syjiem at variance, can ever be folicitous for the Fate of a Syftem.
But tell me, I pray-^ — Do you objeft to mine, from its Perfection, or from its Imperfection? From its being too excel- lent for Human Nature, and above it 5 or from its being too bafe, and below it ? It feems to require, faid I, a Perfection, to which no Individual ever arrived. That very Tranfcendence, faid he, is an P 4 Argu-
216 Concerning HAPPINESS,
'art II. Argument on its behalf. Were it of a mm>rmJ Rank inferior, it would not be that Per- fection, which we feek. Would you have it, faid I, beyond Nature 1 ? If you mean, replied he, beyond any particular or individual Nature, rnoft undoubtedly I would.— —As you are a Lover ©f Painting, you fhall hear a Story on the Subjedt.
"In ancient days, while Greece was " flourifhing in Liberty and Arts, a cele- " brated Painter, having drawn many ex- " cellent Pictures for a certain free State, % and been generoufly and honourably re- " warded for his Labours, at laft made " an Offer to paint them a Helen, as a f Model and Exemplar of the rnoft ex- " quifite Beauty. The Propofal was rea- " dily accepted, when the Artift informed " them, that in order to draw one Fair, <c 'twas neceffary he fhould contemplate u many. He demanded therefore a Sight "of all their fineft Women. The State, H to affift the Work, affented to his Re- "..queft, Thev were exhibited before
"Jiim>
A Dialogue. 217
cc him ; he fele&ed the moft beautiful ; Part IL " and from thefe formed his Helen, more " beautiful than them all."
You have heard the Fadt, and what are we to infer?- — Or can there be any other Inference than this that the Stan- dard of Perfection, with refpeffi to the Beauty of Bodies, was not (as this Artift thought) to be difcovered in any Individual^ but being difperfed by Nature in Portions thro* the many, was from thence, and thence only, to be collected and recognized 1 ? It appears, faid I, he thought fo. The
Pidture, continued he, is loft, but we have Statues ftill remaining. If there be Truth in the Teftimony of the beft and faireft Judges, no Woman ever equalled the De- licacy of the Medic e an Venus, nor Man the Strength and Dignity of the Farnhefan Hercules. 'Tis generally, faid I, fo
believed.
And will you, faid he, from this unpa- ralelled and tranfeendent Excellence, deny
thefe
zi8 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part II. thefe Works of Art to be truly and ftri&ly '"" V "- J Natural? Their Excellence, replied I,
mull be confefled by AH; but how they can be cajled fo ftri&ly Natural, I muft own a little ftartles me. That the
Limbs and their Proportions, laid he, arc fele&ed from Nature, you will hardly I believe doubt, after the Story juft related* I replied, 'Twas admitted. The
Tarts therefore of thefe Works are Na- tural. They are. And may not the fame be afferted, as to the Arrange- ment of thefe Parts ? Muft not this too be natural, as 'tis analogous we know to Nature ? It muft. If fo, then is the Whole, Natural. So indeed, faid I, it fhould feem. It cannot, re- plied he, be otherwife, if it be a Fa<ft be- yond difpute, that the Whole is nothing more, than the Parts under fuch Arrangement. Enough, faid I, you have fatisfied me*
If I have, faid he, it is but to transfer what we have afferted of this fubordinate Beauty, to Beauty of a higher Order-, it is
but
A Dialogue. 219
but to pafs from the External, to the Part II.
Moral and Internal For here we fay, by parity of Reafon, that no where in any particular Nature is the perfect Character to be feen intire. Yet one is brave ; an- other is temperate \ a third is liber ah, and a fourth is prudent. So that in the Multi- tude of mixed imperfect Characters, as be- fore in the Multitude of imperfecl Bodies, is expreffed that Idea, that Moral Stan- dard of Perfection, by which all arc tried and compared to one another, and at laft upon the whole are either juftified or condemned- — that Standard of Perfection, which cannot be but mofi Natural, as it is purely colle&ed from Individuals of Na- ture, and is the Teft of all the Merit to which they afpire. I acknowledge^
faid I, your Argument.
I might add, faid he, if there were Occaiion, other Arguments which would furprize you. I might inform you of the natural Pre-eminence, and high Rank of
Specific Ideas-, that every Individual was
2 but
220 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part II. but their Type, or Shadow; that the
Mind or IntelleB was the Region of Pof-
Jibles-y that what ever is PoJJible, to the
Mind actually Is; nor any thing a Non- entity, except what implies a Contradic- tion ; that the genuine Sphere and ge- nuine Cylinder, tho' Forms perhaps too 'perfect, ever to exiji conjoined to Matter, were yet as true and real Beings, as the grojfejl Objedls of Senfe -, were the Source of Infinite Truths, which wholly depend on them, and which, as Truths, have a Being moil unalterable and eternal. But thefe are Reafonings, which rather belong to another Philofophy -, and if you are fatisfied with- out them, they are at beft but fuperfluous.
He waited not for my Anfwer, but proceeded as follows. 'Tis thus, faid
he, have I endeavoured, as far as in my power, to give you an Idea of the perfeB Character : a Character, which I am neither fo abfurd, as to impute to myfelf ; nor fo rigorous and unfair, as to require of others. We have propofed it only, as an Exem-
2 P^AR
A Dialogue. 221
plar of Imitation, which tho' None Part Il.lj we think can equal, yet All at leaft may
follow an Exemplar of Imitation, which
in proportion as we approach, fo we ad- vance proportionably in Merit and in
Worth an Exemplar, which, were we
moft felfijh, we mould be Fools to rejedt ; if it be true, that to be Happy, is the ultimate Wijh of us ally and that Happinefs and Moral Worth fo reciprocally correfpond, that there can be no Degree of the one, without an equal Degree of the other. If there be
Truth, faid I, in your Reafonings, it can- not certainly be otherwife.
He continued, by faying The Pro*
ficiency of Socrates, and indeed of every honeft Man, was fufficient to convince us, could we be fteadfaft to our Purpofe, that fome Progrefs at leaft might be made toward this Perfection — How far, we knew not —
The Field was open The Race was free
and common to All — Nor was the Prize, as ufual, referved only to the Firft; but All, who run, might depend on a Reward,
having
222 Concerning HAPPINESS,
- art II. having the Voice of Nature, would they
- ~ V "- J but liften, to allure them,
- Nemo ex hoc numero mihi non donatus
abibit.
§. 9. Here he paufed, and left me to meditate on what he had fpoken. For fome time we pafled on in mutual Silence, till obferving me on my part little inclined to break it, What, faid he, engages you with an Attention fo earneft ? I was
wondering, faid I, whence it fhould hap- pen, that in a Difcourfe of fuch a nature, you fboyld fay fo little of Religion , of P/ovide?ice> and a Deity. I have not,
replied he, omitted them, becaufe not in- timately united to Morals ; but becaufe what ever we treat accurately, fhould be treated feparately and apart. Multiplicity of Mat- ter naturally tends to Confufion. They are weak Minds indeed, which dread a ra- tional Sufpence 5 and much more fo, when in the Event, it only leads to a furer Know- ledge, « 11 ■ . 11 ,. 11 1 11 » • * ' " **
- JEn£j.d. I. v. V. 305.
A Dialogue. 223
ledge, and often flrengthens the very Sub- Part II. jedt, on which we fufpend. Could I how- ever repeat you the Words of a venerable Sage, (for I can ckll him no other) whom once I heard differting on the Topic of Religion, and whom ftill I hear, when ever I think on him; you might accept perhaps my Religious Theories as candidly, as you have my Moral. I prefled him
to repeat them, with which he willingly complied.
The Speaker, faid he, whofe Words I am attempting to relate, and whom fot the prefent I name Theophilus, \v t > of a Chara&er truly amiable in every part. When young, he had been fortunate in a liberal Education ; had been a Friend to the Mufes, and approved himfelf fuch to the Public. As Life declined, he wifely retired, and dedicated his Time almoft wholly to Contemplation. Yet could he never forget the Mufes, whom once he loved. He retained in his Difcourfe (and fo in the Sequel you will foon find) a large
Portion
224 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part II. Portion of that rapturous, anti-profaic Stile, in which thofe Ladies ufually choofe to ex- prefs themfelves.
We were walking, not (as now) in the chearful Face of Day, but late in the Even- ing, when the Sun had long been fett. Ck- cumftances of Solemnity were not wanting to affect us ; the Poets could not have
feigned any more happy a running
Stream, an ancient Wood, a ftill Night,
and a bright Moonfhine. 1, for my own
part, induced by the Occafion, fell inlenfibly into a Reverie about Inhabitants in the Moon. From thence I wandered to other heavenly Bodies, and talked of States there, and Empires, and I know not what.
Who lives in the Moon, faid he, is perhaps more than we can well learn. 'Tis enough, if we can be fatisfied, by the help of our beft Faculties, that Intelligence is not confined to this little Earth, which we in- habit ; that tho* Men were not, the World would not want Spectators, to contemplate
its
cc
A Dialogue, 225 } »
its Beauty, and adore the Wifdom of its Part IF Author. «-*v*.
cc This whole Universe itfelf is but
<c one City or Commonwealth
" a Syjiem of Subjidnces varioufly farmed, <c and varioufly aBuated agreeably to thofe cc Forms* — - a Syftem of Subftances both
immenfely great and fmall, Rational^
Animal, Vegetable^ and Inanimate.
cc As many Families make one Village, many Villages one Province, many Pro- <c vinces one Empire ; fo many Empires, " Oceans, Wafted and Wilds, combined, " compofe that Earth on which we live, cc Other Combinations make a Planet or a " Moon; and thefe again, united, make " one Planetary Syftem., What higher " Combinations fubfift, we know not, cc Their Gradation and Afcent 'tis impof- " fible we fhould difcover. Yet the ge- " nerous Mind, not deterred by this Im- cc menlity, intrepidly paiTes on, thro* Re- " gions unknown, from greater Syftem
cc
.226 Concerning* HAPPINESS,
Part II. " to greater, till it arrive at that greatejl^ " where Imagination flops, and can ad- " vance no farther. In this laft, this <c mighty, this ftupendous Idea, it beholds <c the Universe itfelf, of which every " Thing is a Part, and with refpedt to "which not the fmalleft Atom is either " foreign or detached.
" Wide as it^s Extent, is the Wifdom " of its Workmanfhip, not bounded and " narrow, like the humbler Works of Art. " Thefe are all of Origin no higher than " Human. We can readily trace them to <c their utmofl Limit, and with accuracy " difcern both their Beginning and their iC End. But where the Microfcope that u can mew us, from what Point Wifdom cc begins in Nature ? Where the Telefcope " that can defcry, to what Infinitude it u extends ? The more diligent our Search, " the more accurate our Scrutiny, the " more only are we convinced, that our " Labours can never finiflij that Subjects
" inex-
A Dialogue. 225]
" inexhauftible remain behind, ftill un-Partlj 1 " explored. <— -v-*
" Hence the Mind truly wife, quit- <c ting the Study of F * articular \r, as know- " ing their Multitude to be infinite and in- " comprehenjible, turns its intellectual Eye cc to what is general and compreheniive, <c and thro' Generals learns to fee, and re- " cognize what ever exifts.
cc cc
It perceives in this view, that every Subftance, of every degree, has its Na- <c ture, its proper Make, Constitution or " Form, by which it a£ls y and by which " it fuffers. It perceives it fo to fare with " every natural Form around us, as with " thofe Tools and Inftruments, by which " Art worketh its Wonders. The Saw is cc deftined to one A&; the Mallet, to an- " other 5 the Wheel anfwers this Purpofe; " and the Lever anfwers a different. So " Nature ufes the Vegetable ', the Brute, " and the Rational, agreeably to the proper u Form and Confiitution of every Ki?td. The Q^2 " Vegetable
228 Concerning HAPPINESS,
■art II. cc Vegetable proceeds with perfect Infenfa bility. The Brute poffeffes a Senfe of " what is pleafurable and painful, but ftops~ " at mere Senfation, and is unable togofar- ,<c ther. The Rational, like the Brute, has " all the Powers of mere Senfation, but en- joys fuperadded a farther tranfcendent Fa- culty, by which it is made confcious, not only of what it feels, but of the ^Powers thdmfehes, which are the Sources of thofe very Feelings; a Faculty, which recognizing both itfelf and all Things elfe, becomes a Canon, a Corrector, and " a Standard UniverfaL
C€ Hence to the Rational alone is im~ " parted that Master-Science, of what " they are, where they are, and the End <c to which they are deftined.
" Happy, too happy, did they know " their own Felicity ; did they reverence <c the Dignity of their own fuperior Cha- cc rafter, and never wretchedly degrade €l themfelves into Natures to them fubor-
<c dinate*
<c
A Dialogue. 229!
« dinate. And yet alafs ! : 'tis a Truth too Part ii 1 <c certain, that as the Rational only are ^ -rvr " " iiifceptible of a. Happinefs truly excel- " lent, fo thefe only merge themfelves 11 into Miferies paft Indurance,
7 Assist us then, Thou Power " Divine, with the Light of that Re a- <£ son, by which Thou lighteneft the " World 5 by which Grace and Beauty is , " diffufed thro' every Part, and the WeW cc fare of the Whole is ever uniformly up- <c held ; that Reafon, of which our own is " but a Particle or Spark, like fome Pro- " metheanYixZy caught from Heaven above. cc So teach us to know ourf elves, that we c< may attain that Knowledge, which " alone is worth attaining. Check our <c vain, our idle Refearches into the Laws, " and Natures, and Motions of other Be- " ings, till we have learnt and can prac- " tife thofe, which peculiarly refpect our- " felves. Teach us to be fit Aftors in " that general Drama, where Thou haft flf allotted every Being, great and fmall, its
0^3 !' P ro -
>3<> Concerning HAPPINESS,
nit II. cc proper Part, the due Performance of which ^ r *" / " is the only End of its Exiflence?
<c Enable us to curb Desire within " the Bounds of what is Natural. Enable " us even to fufpend it, till we can employ " it to our Emolument. Be our fir/l " Work, to have efcaped from wrong Opi- cc nion, and bad Habit ; that the Mind, <c thus render'd fincere and incorrupt, may " with Safety proceed to feek its genuine " Good and Happinefs.
<c When we are thus previoufly ex-
" ercifed, thus duly prepared, let not our
€C Love there flop, where it firft begins ;
" but infenfibly condudt it, by thy invi-
cc fible Influence, from lower Obje&s to
" higher, till it arrive at that Supreme,
" where only it can find what is adequate
" and full. Teach us to love Thee, and
<c Thy Divine Administration
cc to regard the Univerfe itfelf as our true <c and genuine Country, not that little ca- ff foal Spot, where we firft drew vital
" Air.
A Dialogue. 23 1
<c Air. Teach us each to regard Himfelf Part II„|
" but as a Part of this great Whole ;
" a Part which for its Welfare we are as
<c patiently to refign, as we refign a fingle
" Limb for the Welfare of our whole
<c Body. Let our Life be a continued
" Scene of Acquiescence and of Grati-
cc tude; of Gratitude, for what we enjoy ;
" of Acquiefcence, in what we fuffer ; as
" both can only be referable to that con-
" catenated Order of Events, which can-
cc not but be bejl> as being by Thee ap-
cc proved and chofen.
"In as much as Futurity is hidden cc from our Sight, we can have no other " Rule of Choice, by which to govern our " Conduct, than what feems confonant to " the Welfare of our own particular Na- cc tures. If it appear not contrary to Duty " and moral Office, (and how mould we " judge, but from what appears?) Thou " canft not but forgive us, if we prefer " Health to Sicknefs ; the Safety of Life " and Limb, to Maiming or to Death. Ojt < c But
232 Concerning HAPPINESS,
'art II. " But did we know that thefe Incidents, " or any other were appointed us , were " fated in that Order of incontroulable "• Events, by which Thou preferveft and '"■ adprneft the Whole : it then becomes cc our Duty, to meet them with Magna- " nimity; to co-operate with Chearfulnefs " in what ever Thou ordaineft; that fo " we may know no other Will, than thine ", alone, and that the Harmony of our " particular Minds with thy Umverfal 9 <c may be fteady and uninterrupted thro' < c the Period of our Exiflence.
- c Yet, fince to attain this Height, this
cc tranfcendent Height, is but barely pot- " fible, if poffible, to the moft perfect cc Humanity: regard what within us is " Congenial to Thee-, raife us above our- <c felves, and warm us into Enthujiafm* cc But let our Enthufiafm be fuch, as befits cc the Citizens of Thy Polity; liberal, fC gentle, rational, and humane — not fuch / <c as to debafe us into poor and wretched 5 C Slaves, as if Thou wert our Tyrant, 2 cf not
A Dialogue. 233
cc not our kind and common Father ; Part II. " much lefs fuch as to transform us into cc favage Beafts of Prey, fullen, gloomy, <c dark and fierce ; prone to perfecute, to <c ravage, and deftroy, as if the Luft of <c MaiFacre could be grateful to thy Good- cc nefs. Permit us rather madly to avow " Villany in thy Defiance, than impioufly cc to aiTert it under colour of thy Service. " Turn our Mind's Eye from every Idea " of this Character ; from the Servile, Ab- u jed:, Horrid and Ghaftly, to the Gene- rous, Lovely, Fair and Godlike.
cc
" Here let us dwell jr-r r- be here our <c Study and Delight. So mall we be en- <c abled, in the filent Mirrour of Coniem- cc plation, to behold thofe Forms, which
" are hidden to Human Eyes that ani-
" mating Wisdom, which pervades and
6 f rules the Whole that Law irrefiftible,
cc immutable, fupreme, which leads the <f Willing, and compels the Averfe, to co- " operate in their Station to the general ff Welfare-™that Magic Divine, which
,"234 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Bart II. " by an Efficacy paft Comprehenfion, can { >~~v mmJ « transform every Appearance, the moft " hideous, into Beauty, and exhibit all " Things Fair and Good to Thee, " Essence Increate, who art of u purer Eyes, than ever to behold Iniquity.
" Be thefe our Morning, thefe our €C Evening Meditations — with thefe may
" our Minds be unchangeably tinged •
" that loving Thee with a Love moft dif- " interefted and fincere; enamoured of " thy Polity, and thy Divine Admi- " nistration ; welcoming every Event " with Chearfulnefs and Magnanimity, as <c being befi upon the Whole, becaufe or- " dained of Thee ; propofing nothing of <c ourfelves, but with a Referve that Thou <f permitteft; acquiefcing in every Obftruc- " tion, as ultimately referable to thy Pro-
<c vidence in a word,' that working this
<c Condud, by due Exercife, into perfed " Habit; we may never murmur, never " repine ; never mifs what we would ob- <c tain, or fall into that which we would
" avoid;
A Dialogue. 235
cc avoid ; but being happy with that tran- Part II.
" fcendent Happinefs, of which no one
" can deprive us ; and bleft with that Di-
" vine Liberty \ which no Tyrant can an-
cc noy; we may dare addrefs Thee with
<c pious Confidence, as the Philofophic Bard
« of old,
" ConduEl me, Thou, of Beings Canfe Divine, €C Where-e're Tm dejlitfd in thy great Dejign. " Affiive I follow on : forjhoidd my Will cc Rejt/i, Tm impious; but mujl follow JlilL
In this manner did Theophilus, faid he, purfue the Sub] eft, to which I had led him. He adorned his Sentiments with Exprefiions even more fplendid, than I have now employed. The Speaker, the Speech, the happy Circumftances which concurred, the Night's Beauty and Still- nefs, with the Romantic Scene where we were walking, all together gave the Whole fuch an Energy and Solemnity, as 'tis im- poffible you fhould feel from the Coldnefs of a bare Recital. I, continued he, for 2 my
f
236 Concerning HAPPINESS,
Part II. my own part, returned home fenfibly touched, and retained the ftrongeft Feel- ings of what I had heard, till the follow- ing Morning. Then the Bufinefs of the Day gently obliterated all, and left me by Night as little of a Philofopher, as I had ever been before.
§. 10. And is it poffible, faid I, fo foon to have forgotten, what feems fo ftriking and fublime, as the Subject you have been now treating? 'Tis Habit, replied
he, is all in all. 'Tis Praffiice and Exer-°< cife, which can only make us truly any thing. Is it not evidently fo, in the moft com- mon vulgar Arts ? Did mere ^Theory alone ever make the meaneft Mechanic ? And is the Supreme Artijl of Life and Manners to be formed more eafily, than fuch a mc ? Happy for us, could we prove it near fo eafy. But believe me, my Friend, good Things are not fo cheap. Nothing is to he had gratis^ much lefs that which is moft valuable.
Yet
A Dialogue. 237!
Yet however for our Comfort, we have Part I' this to encourage us, that, tho' the Diffi- ^^ r " culty of acquiring Habits be great and painful, yet nothing fo eafy, fo pleafant, as their Energies, when once wrought by Exercife to a due Standard of Perfection. I know you have made fome Progrefs in Mujic. Mark well what you can do, as a Proficient this way— You can do that, which without Habit, as much exceeds the wifeft Man, as to walk upon the Waves, or to afcend a Cliff perpendicular. You can even do it with Facility 5 and (left you fhould think I flatter) not you yourfelf alone, but a thoufand others befide, whofe low Rank and Genius no way raife them above the Multitude. If then you are fo well affured of this Force of Habit in one Inftance, judge not in other Inftances by your own prefent Infufflciency. Be not fhocked at the apparent Greatnefs of the perfeB Moral Character, when you com- pare it to the Weaknefs and Imperfection of your own. On the contrary, when thefe
dark,
238 Concerning HAPPINESS,
art II. dark, thefe melancholy Thoughts aflail
- "--* you, immediately turn your Mind to the
Conlideration of Habit. Remember how
eafy its Energies to thofe, who pojjefs it ;
and yet how impracticable to fuch, zspof
fefs it not.
It mufl be owned, faid I, that this is a Satisfaction, and may be fome kind of Affiftance in a melancholy Hour. And yet this very Dodtrine naturally leads to , another Objeftion. — Does not the Difficulty of attaining Habit too well fupport a certain Affertion, that, defend Virtue as we will, 'tis but a Scheme of Self denial?
By Self denial y faid he, you mean, I
fuppofe, fomething like what follows
Appetite bids me eat ; Reafon bids me for- bear -If I obey Reafon, I deny Appetite;
and Appetite being a Part of myfelf to deny it, is a Self denial What is true thus in Luxury, is true alfo in other Subje&s , is evident in Matters of Lucre, of PoWer, of Refentment, or whatever elfe we purfue
by
A Dialogue, 239
by the Dictate of any Paflion. You Part II.
appear, faid I, to have ftated the Objection juftly.
To return then to our Inftance, faid he, of Luxury. Appetite bids me eat ; Reafon
bids me forbear If I obey Reafon, I deny
Appetite — —and if / obey Appetite, do I not deny Reafon ? Can I act either 'way, with- out rejecting one of them ? And is not Reafon a Part of my f elf, as notorioufly as Appetite ?
Or to take another Example — - 1 have Depolite in my Hands. Avarice bids
me retain Confcience bids me reftore. Is
there not a reciprocal Denial, let me obey which I will? And is not Confcience a Part of me, as truly as Avarice?
Poor Self indeed muft be denied* take which Party we will. But why (hould Virtue be arraigned of thwarting it, more than Vice her contrary ?- — Make the moil of the Argument, it can come but to
this — -
240 Concerning , HAPPINESS,
Part II. this If Self-denial be an Objection to
Virtue, fo is it to Vice-— If Self-denial be no Objection to Vice, no more can it be to Virtue. A wonderful and important Con- clufion indeed !
He continued by faying, that the Soul cfMan appeared not as a Jingle Faculty, but as compounded of many that as thefe Fa- culties were not always in perfect Peace one with another, fo there were few Ac- tions which we could perform, where they would be all found to concur. What then are we to do ? Sulpend till they agree ?- —
Abfurd, impoffible. Nothing therefore
can remain, but to weigh well their feveral Pretentions; attend to all, that each has to offer in its behalf; ' and finally to purfue . the Dictates of the Wijejl and the Beft, This done, as for the Self-denial, which we force upon the reft ; with regard to our own CharaBer, 'tis a Matter of Honour
and Praife with regard to the Faculties
denied, 'tis a Matter of as fmall Weight, as to contemn the Noife and Clamours of a
mad
A Dialogue, 24
mad and fenfelcfs Mob, in deference to the Part fober Voice of the worthier, better Citi-* v- * v " zens. And what Man could be juftified, fhould he rejed thefe, and prefer a Rabble ?
§. 10. In this place he paufed again, and I took occafion to acknowledge, that my Objection appeared obviated. As the Day advanced apace, he advifed that we might return home; and walking along leifurely, thus refumed to himfelf the Dif- courfe.
I dare fay, continued he, you have feen many a wife Head fhake, in pronouncing that fad Truth, how we are governed all by
Interest. And what do they think
fhould govern us elfe ? Our Lofs, our
Damage, our Dijintereft? -Ridiculou*
indeed ! We fhould be Idiots in fuch cafe, more than Rational Animals. The only Queftion is, where Intereft truly lies : for if this once be well adjufted, no Maxim can be more harmlefs.
R »f
- 42 Concerning HAPPINESS,
lit II. " I find myfelf exifting upon a little " v "" J " Spot, furrounded every way by an im-
" menfe unknown Expanfion. Where
cc am I ? What fort of Place do I " inhabit ? Is it exactly accommodated, " in every Inftance, to my Convenience ? "Is there no Excefs of Cold, none of " Heat, to offend me ? Am I never an- <c noyed by Animals, either of my own <c kind, or a different ? Is every thing " fubfervient to me, as tho' I had ordered
c< all myfelf ? No — nothing like it
" the fartheft from it poffible. The
" World appears not then originally made " for the private Convenience of me alone? — ?c It does not. — But is it not pofiible fo to " accommodate it, by my own. particular
J c Induftry? If to accommodate Man
" and Beaft, Heaven and Earth, if this be cc beyond me; 'tis not poffible. — What cc Confequence then follows ? Or cart
. " there be any other than this if I feek
(C an Liter eft cf my own* detached from that
" of
A Dialogue. 243 '
" of others \ Ifeek an Inter eft which is chi- Fart II <c mer j ca i y an d can never have Exijlence ? m ^ r "
"' How then muft I determine ? Have " I no Intereft at all ? — If I have not, I cc am a Fool for flaying, here. "lis a " fmoaky Houfe, and the fooner out of <c it, the better. — -But why no Intereft? — > cc Can I be contented with none, but one " feparate and detached ? — Is a Social <c Interest joined with others fuch an cc Abfurdity, as not to be admitted ? The " Bee, the Beaver, and the Tribes of herd- " ing Animals, are enough to convince " me, that the thing is, fome where at u lea/I, poffible. How then am I afliired,
" that 'tis not equally true of Man ?
<c Admit it ; and what follows ? — If fo, " then Honour and Justice are my cc Interest— then the whole Train cc of Moral Virtues are my In te- cc rest; without feme Portion of which, not even Thieves can maintain Society,
R 2 " But
cc
• 244 Concerning HAPPINESS,
l ?art II. " But farther ftill — I flop not here—
I purfue this Social Inter efl, as far as 1
« can trace my feveral Relations. I pafs
" from my own Stock, my own Neighs
" bourhood, my own Nation, to the whole
" Race of Mankind, as difperfed through-
" out the Earth. — Am I not related to them
€c all, by the mutual Aids of Commerce ;
" by the general Intercourfe of Arts and
c< Letters 5 by that common Nature, of
<c which we all participate? Again— : —
" I muft have Food and Clothing.
" Without a proper genial Warmth,
" I inftantly perifh. Am I not rela-
" ted, in this view, to the very Earth
" itfelf ? To the diflant Sun, from
cc whofe Beams I derive Vigour ? To that
" ftupendous Courfe and Order of the infi-
" niteHojl of Heaven, by which the Times
" and Seafons ever uniformly pafs on ?■ —
" Were this Order once confounded, I
<c could not probably furvive a Moment ;
" fo abfolutely do I depend on this common ge-
(< neral Welfare.
" What
A Dialogue. 245
" What then have I to do, but to Part I]
" enlarge Virtue into Piety? Not*- - "^
- only Honour and Jii/lice, and what I
" owe to Man, is my Intereft -, but Grati- <c tude alfo, Acquiefcence, Resignation^ Ado- <c ration, and all I owe to this great Polity, m and its greater Governor, our com- « mon Parent.
€ * But if all thefe Moral and Di- " vine Habits be my Interest, I " need not furely feek for a better. I " have an Intereft compatible with the
cc Spot on which I live 1 have an In-
cc tereft which may exift, without altering " the Plan of Providence ; without mend- cc ingy or marring the general Order of <c Events — I can bear what ever happens, " with manlike Magnanimity ; can be <c contented, and fully happy in the Goody " which I poffefs ; and can pafs thro' this " turbid, this fickle 2 . fleeting Period, with- <c out Bewailings, or Envyings, or Mur- €C muringSj or Complaints*"
And
Concerning HAPPINESS,
And thus, my Friend, have you my Sentiments, as it were abridged ; my Sen- timents on that Subject, which engages every one of us. For who would be un- happy ? Who would not, if he knew hew, enjoy one perpetual Felicity ? Who are there exifting, who do not at every inftant feek it ? 'Tis the Wifh, the Em- ploy, not of the Rational Man only; but of the Sot, the Glutton, the very loweft of our Herd. For my own Syftem, whe- ther a juft one, you may now examine, if you think proper. I can only fay on its behalf, if it happen to be erroneous, 'tis a grateful Error, which I cherifh and am fond of. And yet if really fuch, I fhall never deem it fo facred, as not wil- lingly, upon Conviction, tQ refign it up to Truth,
Little pafs'd after this worth rela- ting. We had not far to walk, and we fell into common Topics. Yet one Obfer-
vation
^Dialogue. 247
vation of his I muft not omit. 'Twas Part II
what follows. When we are once, ^ m ~ v ~ m
faid he, well habituated to this chief, this moral Science, then Logic and Physics become two profitable Adjuncts: Logic y to fecure to us the Poneffion of our Opinions; that, if an Adverfary attack, we may not bafely give them up : Phyjics, to explain the Reafon and Oeconomy of Natural Events, that we may know fomething of that Univerfe, where our Dwelling has been appointed us. But let me add a Saying (and may its Remembrance never efcape you) while you find this great, this Majier-Science wanting, value Logic but as Sophijtry, an4 Phyjics but as Raree-Jhew ; for both, aflfure yourfelf, will be found nothing better.
'Twas foon after this that our Walk ended. With it ended a Converfation, which had long engaged us ; and which, according to my Promife, I have here en- deavoured to tranfcribe.
THE END.
Advertifement to the Reader.
rT*H E Author has chofen to feparate all Notes from his firji and third 7rea- tifes, and thus fubjoin them to the E?id 9 becaufe thofe T!reatifes, being written in Dialogue^ from their Nature and Genius admit not of Interruption. One of his Reafons for adding Notes was, to give Weight to his AJJertions from the Autho- thority of antient Writers. But his chief and principal Reafon was, to excite (if pojfible) the Curiofty of Readers, to exa- mine with flriBer Attention thofe 'valuable Remains of antient Literature. Should he obtain this End, he Jhall think his Labours (juch as they are) abundantly rewarded.
NOTES
O N
TREATISE the Firft;
C ONCERNING
A R T.
NOTE I. p. 6. All Art is Cause.] Artis maxume proprium, creare & gignere. Cic. de Nat. Deor. 1. 2. c. 22. *Er* ^ T 9C^ 'iroiiToc rrsa: yev&riv. All Art is employed in Produc- tion, that is, in making fomething to be. Arijlot* Ethic. Nicom. 1. 6. c. 4.
The aclive efficient Caufes have been ranged
and enumerated after different manners. In the
fame Ethics, they are enumerated thus — dflix ydp
^Qxtviv sivoci (pv<rig 9 ^ dvoiyxTi, >£ tv)(y\' tli.il vx$ 9 x)
7rdv to SI dvQpum. The fever al Caufes appear to be
Nature, NeceJJity, and Chance ; and befides thefe, Mind
or Intellect, and whatever operates by or thro" .Man.
1. 3. c. 3. The Paraphrafl Andronicus in explaining
this laft PafTage, Uoiv to $1 dvQpumt, adds lw ts^wu,
v aXM Tig irpot]r]$ y as for inffance Art^ or any other
human Action.
Alex-
NOTES on Treatise the Fir/!.
Alexander Aphrodisiensis fpeaks of effi- cient Caufes as follows : 'AAA* pm rx.wpm ^» woiWHXy (p6(nq rs, vtf riyyv, *} wpoa/pgffiff. The Caufes, which are Jiriclly and properly efficient, are Nature, Art, andtach Man's particular Choice ofAclion.
- ■*;! Yfyuff p. 160. B. Edit. Aid.
In what manner Art is diftinguifhed from the reft of thefe efficient Caufes, the fubfequent Notes will attempt to explain.
Note II. p. 6. Of that Painter famed in Story, &c] See Valer. Max. 1. 8. c. n.
Note III. p. 12. Art is Man becoming a Cause, Intentional and Habitual.] Ari- ftotle, in his Rhetoric, thus accurately enumerates all the poffible manners, either direct or indi- rect, in which Mankind may be faid to acl or do any thing* Tldvls; $ri 7r^ac]ra(ri irocvroc, roc fx\v 9
- d* aula?' roc di, di aula? ruv fxiv av [a* di aulas',
roi y*h J*a ri%w wpalrv(n 9 roc Si i£ 'ocvdyw rut £>' i% ccjocyxYi;, roc [Av fiioc, roc S\ (pCtrsr w'n 7rctv1cc y o<rx p% $1 aula? repair kg 1, roc juev, octto rv%yq' roc $\ % (pu<TH' roi Js £/<%. "Ocra Jg ft aula?,- y-oci uv aVJol ccilioi, roc [Av £l tQo$, roi £1 Si ogefyv' xoci roc ph $tol Xoyirmnv ogifyv, roc $1 JI dkoyirov. to S\ fl ph C»An<rtff, /xe7« Aoj/a o£?£t? olyo^M — - aXoyoi $ ogz%£iS<> ppyi xaj l?riQvpioc, ure ttgcvIoc o<toc 7rpd1r)f<7iv, dvocy- m Trgalrew dl di]i&$ t7r\<x, % Sid Tifpfw, J*c& €/av, Jia
NOTES on Treatise the Firjl.
All Men do all Things either of them/elves , or #<?/ 0/ themfelves. The Things ivhich they do not of them/elves, they do either by Chance ; or from Neceffity ; <7#^ /fo • Things done from Neceffity, they do either by Compulfeon, which is External NeceJ/ity, or by Nature, which is Internal. So that all Things ivhatfoever, which Men do not of themfelves, they do either by Chance, or from Compulfeon, or by Nature.
Again, the Things, whuh they do of themfelves, and $f ivhich they are themfelves properly the Caufes, feme they do thro* Cuflom and acquired Habit, others thro* iriginal and natural Defre. Farther, the Things done thro\ natural Defre, they do either thro' fetch Defer* affifled by Reafon, or thro' fetch Defer e devoid ofReafon, If it be afeifled by Reafon, then it affumes the Denomi- nation of Will; on the contrary, the irrational Defer es
ere Anger and Appetite.
Hence it appears that all Things whatever, which Men do, they neceffarily do thro o?ie of thefe feven Caufes, either thro' Chance, Compulfeon, Nature, Cu- ftom, Will, Anger, Appetite, Arijl. Rheu 1. i. c. io.
It remains, agreeably to this Enumeration, to eonfider with which of thefe Caufes we ought to arrange Art.
As to Chance, it may be obferved in general of all Cafeual Events, that they always exclude Inten- tion or Defegn ; But Intention and Defegn, are from
Art
NOTES on Treatise the Firft.
Art infeparable. Thus is the Difference between
Art and Chance manifeft.
As to External Compulsion, we have it
thus defcribed Bixiw $\ ? a y d^x/i sgwOa/. That is
an Ad of Compulfiony the efficient Principle of which is from without 9 independent of the Doer. Ethie. Nic. I. 3. c. 1. Again, in the fame Treatife, I. 6. c. 4. we are told of the Works of Arty that they are fuch, £>v n a\yy\ & 7? noivvV, the efficient Principle of which is in the Doer or Agent. Thus therefore is Art diftinguifhed from Compulfion.
These two Caufes, Chance and Compulfiony are mentioned and confidered in the Dialogue, Pages 6 and 7.
Nature, or rather Natural Necessity, is that Caufe, thro' which we breath, perfpire, digeft, circulate our Blood, ' &c. Willy Anger y and Appetite ', are (as already obferved) but fo many Species of Natural Desire, confidered either as affifted by Reafon, or elfe as devoid of it. Now tho' Natural Defire and Natural Neceffity differ, becaufe in the one 'we acl fpontaneoujly y in the other not fpontane- oufyy yet both of them meet in the common Genus Gf Natural Power. Moreover this is true of all Na- tural Power y that the Poiver itfelf is prior to any Energies or Acts of that Power. 'Oj yoL% U 7a ttq\- XctKtg jjgiv, y\ TroW&ytiq ctxx<rou y rug <XHrQwnq lXc£&Q~ jusv, «AA' dvdc'7roi\iv y '£%ovles lp££»i<ra/A£0a, « p££wr«- pivoi zxopw. For [to inflance in the natural Powers of Senfaticn] it was not from often feeing , and often
hearingy
NOTES on Treatise the Firft. 255
hearings that we acquired thofe Senfes ; but on the con- trary, being firft pojfejfed of them, we then ufed them, not through any Ufe or Exercife did we come to pojfefs them, Arijl. Ethic. 1. 2. c. 1.
Now the contrary to this is true in the cafe of any Powers or Faculties not natural, but acquired by Cuftom and Ufage. For here there ate many Ener- gies and Ads, which muft necefTarily precede the Exiftence of fuch Power or Habit, it being evident (as is faid in the fame Chapter) that U 7uv opotoov ivscyuuv ui tfyiq yfyvovloci, from fimilar and homoge- neous Energies, it is that Habits are obtained. So again, in the fame Place, & y&^ feT'pMvlots 7rmsTv 9 ravloc ttomijIsS |W,av9«vo^£u' olov onco^ofxH]fjsg oix6$oy.Oi yivovlou, yux\ niQugi'£ov]sg xiQocgircci The Things which we are to do by having learnt, we learn by doing. Thus . by building Men become Builders, and by praftifmg Mujic they become Muftcians.
Thus therefore is Art diftinguifhed from all Natural Power of Man, whether Natural NeceJJity, Will, Anger, or Appetite. But Art has been already diftinguifhed from Chance and Com- pulsion. So that being clearly not the fame with fix of thofe feven Caufes by which all Men do all Things, it muft needs be referred to the feventh, that is, to Custom or Habit.
It muft be obferved, the natural Caufes or Powers in Man, confidered as diftinct from Art, are treated in the Dialogue, Pages 8 and 9.
And
256 NOTES on Treatise the Firji*
And now as we have fhewn Art to be a certain Caufe working in Man, it remains to mew how it is diftinguimed from thofe other Caufes befide Man, which we fuppofe to operate in the Univerfe. Thefe are either fuch Caufes as are below him, like the Vegeta- tive Power, which operates in Vegetables, the Sen- fitive in Animals ; or elfe fuch Caufes as are above him,' like God, and whatever is elfe of Intelligence more than human.
The Causes below us may be all included in. the common Genus 0/* Nature; and of Nature we may fay univerfally, as well of Nature without us as within us, that its feveral Operations, contrary to thofe of Art, are not in the leaf degree derived from Cuftom or Ufage. Thus the Author above cited — - Qy<|b yoL^ i-coy (p\xm ovluv csAAw? JOi^/Jar tnov XiQo?
av pvgiocxi? avlov iVi^y n; a,m pmlwv, ah ro ttu*
- m%. None of thofe Things, which are what they are by
Nature, can be altered by being accujlomed. Thus a Stone \ which by Nature is carried downward, can never be accujlomed to nount upward, no not thd* any one Jhould ten thoufa?id times attempt it by throwing the Stone upward. The fame may be faid of accufioming Fire to move downward. Ethic. Nicom. 1. 2. c. 1. Again, in the Works of Nature, fuch as Trees, Animals, and the like, the efficient Principle is *//-
tally united to the Subjecls, wherein it operates.
h dvloTg £p£8o-i Toivla, rviv d^w. Ethic. Nicom. 1. 6» c. 4. But in the Works of Art, fuch as Statues or Houfes, the efficient Principle is difunited.from the Subjecls, and exifts not in the Things done or made,
but
NOTES on Treatise the Firft.
but in the Doer or Artifl — m y\ apx* m *» n-oiSVJij aAAa /xjj h 7w iroixpivu. Ethic. Nic. 1. 6. c. 4. It is indeed pofllble that, even in Works of Art, the Subjecl arid efficient Caufe may be ««/ta/, as in the Cafe of a Phyfician becoming his own Patient, and curing himfelf. But then it muft be remembered that this Union is xara truju^eSwoVj merely acci- dental, and no way effential to the conftituting of Art, confidered as Art. By this therefore is Art clearly dirtinguifhed from Nature, whofe Defi- nition informs us that it is — oif/jn rii kcc\ mVx t* xwbT&m x} ygs[At7v tv w uVap^et irpuluc 9 xaG* oc\J]o x) pvi v.M arvpG&rMQs. A certain Principle or Caufe of moving and ceafing to move, in feme Subjecl wherein fuch Principle exijls immediately, ejfentially, and not by way of Accident. Arift. Natur, Aufc. 1. 2* c* 1.
The C au s e s, which are of Rank supeRiour to Man, fuch as the Deity, can have nothing to do with Art, becaufe being (as is laid in the Dialogue, p. 11.) perfeSf and complete, and knowing all from the Beginning, they can ne\ , admit of what is additional and fecondary. Art therefore can only belong to Beings, like Men, who being imperfecl Know their Wants, and endeavour to remove them by Helps fecondary and fubfequent. It was from a like Confideration that Pythagoras called himfelf a Philosopher, that is to fay (according to his owA Explication of the Name) a Lover and Seeker of what was wife and good, but not a PorTerTor«> which he deemed a Character above him. Con- fonant to this we read in Plato's Banquet, OeJ*
9fHS
NOTES on Treatise theFirft.
f&p, &c. No God phihfophize s, or defires to become wife, for He is so already. Nor, if there be any other Being wife, doth he phihfophize for the fame Reafon. On the other hand, neither do the Indocil phihfophize \ for this is the Misfortune of Indocility, without being virtuous, good or prudent, to appear to onefelf fufficient in all thefe Refpecls. In general there- fore, he who thinketh himfelf in no want, defireth not that, which he thinks himfelf not to need. Who then, faid Socrates to Diotima, (the Speaker of this Narration) Who are those who philoso- phize, if they are neither the Wife nor the Indocil? That (replied fhe) may be now confpicuous even to a Child. They are those of middle Rank,
BETWEEN THESE EXTREMES. Plat. p. 203.
torn. 3. Edit. Serrani.
Here we fee (agreeably to what is faid in the Dialogue, pages n. and 12.) that as to acquired or fecondary Habits, fome Beings are too excellent for them, and others too bafe , and that the Deity above all is in the Number of thofe tranfcen- dent, and is thus, as a Caufe, diftinguifhed from Art.
There are, befides the Deity and -Nature now fpoken of, certain other external Caufes, which are mentioned in the firil Note as diftincl: from Art ; namely Chance and Neceffity. But of thefe hereafter, when we confider the Subjecl of Art.
Note
N O T E S on Tr e at ise the Firft. Note IV. p. 13. Faculties, Powers, &c.
ARE OBSCURE AND HIDDEN THINGS ENER- GIES and Operations lie open to the
Senses.] 'Ei o\ %$ hiysiv rt ixotrov TtTIcoy, ol&v
\l TO VQ'&lMV, IS Ti" TO dt&TiJtKOVy 7rp6"lfp2V ItTHj- XS7TlWy Tl TO V0£iV, XOt) TV' TO d&Qf.Vi&OLl* 7TpO-
Ifpat J^ nal ,<ra(f>£s-«p«» wpoff '^aaj twv Sumpim luri ui zvepysioti. yrooevlvy^dvofAsv y&p aVJai?, xai toV $vva,pEi<; ano t»7wv i7rivoxpsv. If we are to ex- plain what each ofthefe things are, as for inftance, ivhat the intelligent Principle , what the fenfitive, we muft firft inquire what it is to think, what to fee, hear, and life the Senfes. For with refpecl to us Men, the Energies are prior and more evident than the Powers, becaufe it is in the Energies we are firft cmverfant, and comprehend the Powers from them. Therttift. in lib. 2. de Anima, p. 76. Edit. Aid. Fol.
Note V. p. 15. Are there not Pre- cepts, &c. ] Vid. Plat, in Min. torn. 2. p. 316^ 17. -Edit. S err an.
As to thofe low Habits here mention'd, from which we diftinguifh Art by the Number and Dignity of its Precepts, they fall in general under the Deno- mination of MxlaioTsxyia, of which ^uintilian gives the following Account. Ma7«io7e^v/« quoque eft quadam, id eft, fupervacua Artis Imitatio, quce nihil fane nee boni nee malt habeat, fed vanum laborem : qualis illius fuit, qui grana ciceris, ex fpatio diftante miffa, in acum continuo & fine fruftratwie infer ebat • quern, cum fpeftafifet Alexander^ donafje dicitur ejufdem S 2 legit-*
<*
i
NOTES on Treatise theFirft.
leguminis modio. Quod quidem pramium fuit illo opere digniffimum. Inft. Orat. 1. 2. c. 20.
Note VI. p. 17. An Habitual Power in Man of becoming the Cause of some Ef- fect, ACCORDING TO A SYSTEM OF VARIOUS AND WELL-APPROVED PRECEPTS- ]
The Peripatetic Definition of Art is "E£»£ ^/7<£ AoT« dhyiS-xs 7rom7uiV) — ati efficient Habit : , joined with found and true. Reafon. Ariftot. Ethic. Nic 1. 6. c. 4.
The Stoic Definition, as we find it in Sext. Eftipir. adverfus Logicos, p. 392. is, 2uru/*« h xoila,Ar,tyzuv IPysyvfAWnrfASiim Trgog r\ reX©* wwyiro* im h roo (3t«. Thus tranflated by Cicero in Die- denies de Grammat. 1. 2. Art eji Perceptionum exerci- tatarum colleclio, ad unum exitum vita utilem perti- nentium. And again by Quintilian^ Inft. Orat. \. 2. C. 18. Art em conftare ex perceptionibus confentientibus & coexerchatis ad finem utilem vita. The fame De- finition is alfo alluded to in the Academics of Cicero^.
1. 2. c. 7. where it is faid Art vero qua potejl
effie^ nifi qua non ex una; aut duabus,fed ex multis animi perceptionibus conjiat?
There is a third Definition of Art cited by Shiintilian in the fame piace, and afcribed by him to
Qleanthes — An ejl potejias via (id eft, ordine) efficient*
Now if we compare thefe Definitions with that in the Dialogue, we (hall find them all to correfpond.
The Habitual Power in Man of becoming the Caufe of fime Effecl, is .the, fame as "Efys 7rot7ilian in the
Peripa-
NOTES on Treatise the Firft.
Peripatetic Definition. According to a Syfl 'em of 'vari- ous and well-approved Precepts, is the fame as p{\oi Xoy* aX^aj. For found and true Reafon muft needs be the Bafis of allfuch Precepts.
Again, as to the fecond Definition-.— The Words
Tvrvpoc, xalaA^swv [a.SyJlem of ' Comprehenfions, ox of certain and evident Truths'] correfpond to the latter Part of the Definition in the Dialogue — According to a Syjtem of various and well-approved Precepts. The Word zFyEyvpvKo-p-cvuv [that is to fay, worked in by Habit and Excercife] correfponds to the firft Part, that Art is a Caufe founded in Habit. And the reft [7r£>oV t) tiX<&,'&c. that is to fay, a*SyJlem which has refpecl to feme ufeful and ferviceable End or Purpofe in Human Life'] , mews the Syftem here mentioned to regard Practice and Aclion, not Theory and Specu lation. And thus does it correfpond with the Defi- nition of the Dialogue, where it is faid that Art is an Habitual Power not of merely contemplating and knoiving, but of becoming the Caufe of feme Effect. It is not indeed exprelfed in the Dialogue, that this Effecl: has refpecl: to the Utility of Human Life, be- caufe this latter Circumfiance is referved to the Defi- nition of the final Caufe of Art, given page 29.
As to the third Definition of Art, poteflas via efficiens, a Power operating methodically, it may be obferved, that by being called an operating Power, it is diftinguifhed from Powers purely fpeculative ; and as it is faid to operate methodically, or in a Road and regular Procefs, it is diftinguifhed from Chance as well as blind Neceffity. And thus far it correfponds S 3 with
NOTES 0* Treatise the Firjl.
with what is ofFer'd in the Dialogue. But it does not appear from this Definition, whether the Power therein mentioned be Original and Natural, or Se^ condary and Habitual, becaufe Powers of either fort may operate methodically. And perhaps Cleantbes intended not to diftinguiih fo far, but took Art in that larger and more general Senfe, adopted fome- times by the Stoics \ as when they defcribe Nature her/elf to be a Ilu^ rc^^nxov o$ca (dccoi^ov irgog ytvsa-iv, an artificial Fire, proceeding methodically to Production or Creation, For it is not to be imagined, they in- tended by this to infinuate that Nature was a Fire, which had learnt by Habit fo to operate. On the contrary, by artificial it is probable they intended no more than fome active efficient Principle, working with ReaJ on, Order, and Method -, of which Principle they confider'd Fire to be the properejl Vehicle, as being of all Bodies the moll fiubtle, and that into which the reft are all ultimately refolvable. Vide Diog. Laert. 1. 7. Seel. 156. Cic. de Nat. Deor. 1. 2. c. 22.
Note VII. page 22. It should seem that the common or universal subject of art was- — All those contingent Natures; which lie within the reach of human Powers to influence.]
The Cause here treated is the Material,
the "TA',1, or c T7rox£t]w,£vov, or to eg a yw(\&\. t*
Of a Contingent, we have the following Defini- tion — — As^w <T ii>£iX£ojZl 9 xj TO EvJfp^P^flW, ou
H
NOTES 0* Treatise tbeFirJt.
diet rxT cUvvxtov. I call that a Contingent, which not being necefjary, but being fuppofed to be, there will follow nothing impojjible from fuch Suppojition. Arift. Anal, prior. 1. i. c. 13.
That this is true in Works of Art, is evident. It is not necefjary, that a given Fragment of fuch a Rock mould affume the Figure of Hercules : but there follows nothing impojjible, if we fuppofe it fo figured. 'Tis for this reafon, that the Subjecl of Art is in the Dialogue called a Contingent,
But however, to explain the whole of what is faid in this Place, it is necefTary to go backward, and deduce what we would fay from fome remoter Considerations.
The Peripatetics held the End or Aim of their Philofophy to be the difcovering and knowing the
&%y}»i the primary and creative Principle of all Things. They purfued this Inquiry, by beginning their Contemplation from thofe things, which are to usfirjl in the Order of our Comprehension, and fo amend- ing gradually to that which is truly firfl, in the real Order of Beings.
The fir ft and original Objecls of our Compre- henfion are thofe nearer and more immediate, viz. the Objecls of Senfe, with which we are fur- rounded on every Side. Thefe Objecls we perceive to be all in motion -, and the Motions are multiform, various, and often oppofite to each other. The Con- S 4 fequences.
NOTES on Treatise the Firft.
fequences of this we perpetually behold. By -fuch Motions we fee that not only the mere local Site of thefe Beings is changed, but their very Bulk, and Figure, and Qualities; nay more than this, even
the Beings them/elves are made to feparate and perijb, while new Beings arife from the Re-afTemblage of the fcattered Parts, which Parts different Motions can as well concrete, as difunite. The Beings or Gbjecls of the Character here defcribed, the Peripatetics denoted un- der the common Appellation of the ra, xwpzva, >£ (pS&Jlx, the Beings moving and corruptible*
From thefe moving and perijbable Cbjecls, they palled to thofe fublinier and more tranfcendent Objects of Senfe, which they faw adorn the Heavens. Here likev/ife they difcovercd Motion ; but then this Mo- tion was uniform and conftant t the Be- ings moved, fave in the relation Oi As therefore they beheld no Change in the . EJJence of thefe Beings, they deemed them [ their Hypothecs , incorruptible, and out of them Ci i- bliihed another Clafs of Beings, that is to fay, the rd kiwpeva x&i a<p$ufla 9 the Beings moving and in* corruptible.
From thefe fublimer Objects of Senfe, they palled to Objecls of pure Intellecl ; to Bodies devoid of all Motion, and of all Quality, fave that in- feparable one of Figure j fuch Bodies for inftarice as the Cube, the Sphere, and the reft of Bo- dies mathematical. From mathematical Bodies, and the Truths refulting from them, they paflfed to the Contemplation of Truth in general; to the Soul, and its Powers both of Intuition and Syl-
kgization ;
■ N O T E S on Treatise the Firjl.
logization ; to Being univerfal, and above both Time land Place ; and thus at laft to that fupreme Caufe 9 the great Principle of the whole, which is ever the fame, immutable and eternal. The feveral Objecls of this intellectual Comprehenfwn they ftiled not merely a<pQxp]x y but ol(pQ<x,flx *j awvj/U, Beings incorrup- tible and immoveable.
In this manner did the Peripatetics fpeculate. And hence was it they eftablifhed to themfelves three Species of Philofophical Employment one about
Beings motionlefs and eternal •> another, about Beings moveable and eternal-, and a third, about Beings moveable and perijhable. The firft they held the proper Employment of the Metaphyfician ; the two laft of the AJlronomer and the Naturalijl.
Aio rpzTt; cci Traoty pulsion* ri p\v ttspi omivtuqv* v
<$£, 7TSg) XlVXpSVOV p£V, ol(p $ Ot (i\ OV $1* V\ Js, 7TZ(H T&
(pSoifict. Idcirco Tres funt Traclationes \ una, de im- mobili-, altera de eo, quod movetur quidem, fed eft interitus expers ■ tertia de rebus, interitui obnoxiis. Ariftot. Natural. Aufc. 1. 2. c. 7. Ato ^ Tgs7$ oCl Trgocypcilnoa' r\ ju,£y, 7rso\ >uvx pivot hJ (piccolo,' v $£ 7T£gi wvy/xeva, ol(p$rotfloL $£• r) J«, 7T£g\ aMiirnloi >£ Sl(pSocp7u. Themiflii Paraphrafis in he.
This threefold Subjecl of Philofophic Inquiry is elegantly explained in the following Paflfage.
T* §1 to ri\(§f £$""* TY\q 'ApirolsXixris (p iAo<roV UO')(Yl\), 1 W TWV TTCCVTOOVl $Yipwf>yov olirUv 7 tSjv #el *t) w<raul«$ fp£«<r«v oItto- NOTES on Treatise the Firjl. foixvvcri yxg 7rdv1oov dp^/Vf xj CLVUtAOlJoV £% iKimq £\ ra, ttolv\oc iroctocy^oci, Tivoc $1 roc ayovloc vpoiq ilg rxro to te'A®* ; (Paph oft ?i JjJWxaAja tow h X^ vt p >b /t**ta)3oA?7 virxwovluv' loiocvroc Je eo roc Iv y>£V£(T£l Hy (Propel. 0C7T0 yocp T*7c0l>, , Jiflt jU,£(T«V [AOC- Be[aolImuv~ 9 clvccfofjiEv I«y7»? eVI roc del >£ uxrocvloos t^s" ocGodpocrxq vq-ici$ 9 E7n T*/jy trptalw 7roiv7oov ctwyv. Udcrn; yocp xivria~ius 9 8 xaT gV/av aVw?, 5 xoI« 7roiov 9 fi KOcla TQTTQVy TCC jUSV £l» y£V£<T£l ><J (p^OPOC Y.0c\oi 7rdc<TCCV wvwiv Y.ivvvloci 'roc Je gvpgcvioc ytxloc, y^ovw rriv xccloi, rQirov. AiO ^'/5>J IvTQOtlu); 00*£V£lV OLTCQ TWV 7roXVTP07TOOg MllitfAlMV gTTl TCt KXid fXlOCV 9 K, [AOVYjV X.lVnO~lV Y.IVV [*£VOC, Xj 8TW$ in) THN AKINHTON KA£ AEI niAX- TH2 EXOT2AN APXHN. Aj*j*ov« £& r#s xoflifyQ£uts 9 P»X2. Edit. Tenet. 8vo, 1545. The Author of the Dialogue has had Reference to this threefold Divijion of Subjects, as may be feen in that Part of his Dialogue, which gives occafion to the prefent Comment. He has chofen however to flile the roc 'oWv»«, or Heavenly Bodies rather Contingents of higher Order than Beings necejfary y as imagining the former to be their truer Character. It may be here added, that the Peripatetics con- fined 3>u(tk or Nature ', for the moll part, to this Earth of our's, where they confidered her as the active Principle of Life in Plants and Animals. Hence therefore they diftinguifhed not htxEffefts&om thofe of Art 9 ~ by their Necejfity (for the Effeels of both they treated' as contingent) but from the Caufe in 2 Natural NOTES on Treatise the Firfi. Natural Subjects operating within, in Artificial with- out, as has been already oberved, p. 256, 257. I t may be farther added, that they placed thefe Efiecls of Art and Nature, and indeed all other Contingents whatever, in a middle Rank between Things Neceffary, and Things Impofiible. The Rea- fon was evident. Things Neceffary could not but be ; Things Impofiible could not be ; but Contingents were rcc iv^e^oy.svoc >«} livoci >cj pn tivat 9 that is, were equally fiuficeptible both of Being and Non-being* But yet tho' all Contingents admitted on their Hypothecs both of Being and Non-being, yet they fuppofed fome to have a greater Tendency to Ex- igence, and others to have a lefs. The firft Species; of thefe they filled rol w hn ro -rroXv the Things which happen for the mojl part -, the laft, roi iir sAarlov, the Things which happen lefs frequently. Now as it is evident that both Nature and Art opener obtain their End, than mifs it (for complete Animals are more frequently born than Monfters, and the Mufician, if an Artift, ftrikes oftener the right String than the wrong) hence it was, that they ranged the Efiecls of Nature and Art among thofe Contingents which were rol cog lv\ to ttoAu, Contingents of greater Frequency. But yet as thefe Effecls were not from the Hypothecs neceffary, and contrary to thefe upon occafion happened, hence it was, that whenever either Nature or Art became Caufes of the t« eV gAa-rJo:', thofe rarer Events, in fuch cafe they f Nature and Art J were confidered by NOTES o» Treatise the Firft. by thefe Philofophers as Virion nxloi (ru,a|3£j3i»jtoV Caufes by way of Accident , and not according to their own EJjence and diftinguifhing Character. In fuch Instances it was that they affumed the Name of T^'x" or ' Avloixoflov, Fortune or Chance, tu^» having moftly Preference to Works of Men, vvlopoclov to Works of Nature. The Inftance£ given by Themijlius, in Cafes of Chance and Fortune, are as follow. A Tile falls from a Houfe. The End of its falling is to arrive at that lower Place, whither Nature would carry it by the common Law of Gravity. In falling it ftrikes and wounds a Paf- fenger. This lajl Event is from Chance. Again, a' Man digs in his Garden, to plant. In digging, he dilcovers a hidden Treafure. This lajl Event is from Fortune. And thus, adds Themijlius, r oi'Jly iracifyq 7% (aicc, aAAy jueu xaQ* ocvjr.v ai1*a, aAAa <5e Kara <TVfj^sQriKog. The fame individual A£f ion is the Caufe of one Thing from its own peculiar Character 9 and of another Thing, by way of Accident. And again, iri jU,EV SV *j TCOU 8TW? Wp(Zoilv6v\<dV Y\ TW (jWlt/ ?1 TW -TTDOtXlOSVlV <X,{]lctV 7TW$ StfTsTvy GtAA' 8 X^S"' ^ulxv . 8 }^ th'Iwv p^a^fv kte 7r^o»iA3-iv o ai^ww^p, »te w xsgocpis xxlwiyjy), aAA' ei a^« xala avpfisPwos. — 0/* thefe Events we may call Nature or Human Will in a man- ner the Caufe, but yet not fo from themfelves, and ac- cording to their own peculiar EJfence ; for it was not for the fake of what happened that either the Pajfenger went forth, or the Tile fell downward, but if any thing' it was by Accident. Themift. in lib. 2. Natur. Aufcult. p. 26. Edit. Aid. See alfo Ariflot. Natur. Ah I cult. La. c. 4, 5, 6. It NOTES on Treatise the Fhji. I t mud be here obferved, that koctoc <ru i a|3£|3Ws' [by accident] means in no Part of thefe Quotations accidental, as {landing for cafual -, for this would be mere Tautology, as to what is here faid concern- ing Chance. It means rather fomething by way of Appendage \ fomething Adventitious ; in other Words, it means Accident ', as adhering to Subjiance 9 without which it can have no Beings tho' fuppofe it ahfent or taken away, the Nature of Subjiance is no way affecled. It was in this Senfe, the Peripatetics fuppofed Chance and Fortune to be Accidents or Ap- pendages to Nature^ and Mind. According there- fore to them, the Suppofition of Chance and Fortune was fo far from excluding Nature and Mind from the Univerfe, that they demonflrably proved their Exigence in it. For admitting their Account of Chance and Fortune to be juft ; if we grant the Acci- dents to exift, much more muft we grant the $ub- jeffs, and this too with that fuperior Dignity and Priority of Exiflence, which is evidently due to all Subjects above their Accidents. Well therefore did the Philofopher conclude tire gov fya. to n 'A-JTO^aTov,
- * Tux* t» N», *) rriq ^uVeco?. Subfequent in Ex-
- Tis evident that all Men, without the leaft
- fo Living according to Nature ; farther
- £) rig elvTi} y\ 'ivpoioc, &c. See alfo the fame Author,
- . fame Truth, they would all recognize it as one, their
- and worfe ; but Perception by the Intellecl, like Truths
- X l ^ y-ovov, Ivoc Tjrpa^'/j? to crau7a) tu^ttov ; Did I ever
- 7rpw&sj iavlvi to wponQh •urom' wf£ uttsTv, lyu
- 2 iiKOiWS ■•"
- ^v Alexander Aphrodisiensis, fpeaking of the
- E7ri<rYip'/i £tpv)l<zi, Tirccpet ro he; 'E7risroi<riv ri^ocg >£ o'pov